Devon Trevarrow Flaherty's Blog, page 64

The Rise and Fall of Mount Majestic, by Jennifer Trafton and published in 2011 by Puffin Books. Illustrated by Brett Hellquist.

So, this book has great reviews. On Amazon, it maintains five stars. On Goodreads, four. The truth is, I want to give it at least four stars, but I just don’t think I can. While Mount Majestic is creative, lighthearted, playful (with language and story), and fun, it is also–oh, I so hate to say it–half-baked.

At first, I thought I was going to absolutely love this book. The writing immediately struck me as clean and immensely imaginative. Almost every page has something to love. In fact, the best part of Mount Majestic is the creativity. You really want to fall into a world of sleeping giants and poisonous tortises and pepper on sweet potato soup. And even the smaller creative flourishes are great. However, I quickly started feeling like what I was reading was not a published book, but an earlier draft. Every page felt unpolished, like it was full of great ideas but just hadn’t reached its potential yet. I wanted so badly for an editor to have hit the copy hard and for Trafton to have re-written weak dialogue, hashed out places and characters, and thought harder about the lay of the land.

Let me be specific about four things. First, I found her conceptualization of the size of things (and space) to be confusing and contrary. In order to introduce a person to a giant and to new creatures, and to a fictional place, the author has to have a very clear idea herself of the exact size of those things and the layout of the land. I was super confused by how fast people would get up and down a mountain or get from town to town. If we had a better sense of how small the island was, at the beginning, it might have been better. But on the other hand, I don’t think an island with such diversity of creature and landscape, containing a “mountain” could be as small as she needs it to be. Plus, she’s not always consistent. It might take a day to get from the forest up the mountain, but twenty minutes to run back down the other side. And the giant? One moment, I had the impression that he was as long as their world, and then the next someone was gazing at his whole face with the light of a lantern. It just didn’t make sense. A giant hair, on that scale, would be tremendously thick, let alone the size of an eye. Think about it.

Second, i didn’t think Trafton lingered on things long enough to let them develop. I know this is children’s lit, and in some ways I appreciate the quick pace. But I was often whisked away from a new character or a setting without ever really feeling I had visualized it. The pace was just too fast for me to enjoy the world or get to know the characters. (And a pet peeve of mine: she sometimes delayed telling us the way something or someone looked until much later. I hate when authors do that, because the reader has already developed their internal picture of it or them, and changing that is unpleasant and distracting.)

Third, I had the feeling while reading this that I was being fed medicine with a dose of sugar. And it’s not that I don’t think stories can have a moral, it’s just that these ones were so obvious that they distracted me. I would like to have gotten to the very end and thought later, “Oh, the shrinking guy found out how big he was!” As it was, Trafton spoon-fed it to me as the story unfolded, so that I was constantly on the look-out for the allegory. If this doesn’t bother you, you’ll find yourself with plenty to think about and discuss.

And fourth, I was not happy with the ending. I have to admit, I was warned by my ten-year-old daughter about this. She read the book first, and when I asked if she liked it, she said she didn’t, “because of the ending. You’ll see.” So although I don’t want to give anything away, here, I’ll just vaguely say that I found the ending to be wandering and forced. It wasn’t what happened at the end that I didn’t like; it was the way it was handled. (Although I think most kids between 8 and 14 would NOT appreciate WHAT happens at the end; it’s too ambiguous.) Another thing: there really were three endings, and I thought the last one was by far the best. The other two could have been discarded.

So like I already said, I really wanted to love this book. And there were definitely things I appreciated and enjoyed about it, and that you would probably, too. I wouldn’t discourage others from reading it, especially since the overall reviews are very high. But I won’t be re-reading it. It bums me out to see a story and an author with so much potential and just not enough editing.

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QUOTES:

“Of all the words that have ever been invented, that is the worst. All of the terror in the world hangs on the word might” (p42).

“I promise that I’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about, and you promise me that you won’t worry until I do. Okay?” (p117).

“And as bad as a sleeping giant is, it is not the worst possibility” (p230).

The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Volumes 1 and 2, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and compiled by Barnes & Noble Classics. The material was originally published between 1887-1927. This version, with an introduction by Kyle Freeman, appeared in 2003.

For a collection of works, this one is tremendously steeped in history and widely adored. Therefore, to enhance your experience should you choose to read any of it, I would like to give you a little history and background. I went in blind and researched as I wondered, and found some very enhancing things out. And I adored the footnotes in the Barnes & Noble edition (I only wish there had been a little more). So here it is:

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle lived a very full and interesting life. He was born in Scotland in 1859 and had a childhood of trials and hard work, among nine siblings, a determined mother, and a drinking father. He had some Jesuit schooling before going to Edinburgh University to study medicine. He became a ship’s physician, from a whaler to West Africa, and settled in England, where he established a medical practice and started writing. The first Holmes novel, A Study in Scarlet, was published in 1887. Conan Doyle continued to practice medicine and to write, and wrote another Holmes novel and twenty-four stories–published in periodicals–before killing Holmes off in “The Final Problem,” at Reichenbach Falls, in 1893. He continued to write, this time historical novels and medical themes, and traveled to South Africa as a war time physician. He wrote a treatise on the Boer War and was knighted for it, then wrote another Holmes novel, which was to have taken place before the untimely death of the hero. In 1903, however, Conan Doyle brought Holmes back to life and wrote another couple series and another novel about him (totaling 52 stories and four short novels). Meanwhile, he wrote other works on history, nonfiction, and spiritualism. He did some work to exonerate wrongly accused criminals, and served as a war correspondent across Europe. From that point until his death, he traveled and lectured on spiritualism.

When Conan Doyle started writing about the private detective, Holmes was a self-proclaimed anomaly, something that didn’t exist anywhere in the world or at any point in history. However, there was already groundwork laid for the detective novel, most notably by Edgar Allan Poe and Emile Gaboriau. Some say that detective novels may have started as early as One Thousand and One Nights or even Ming dynasty China, but the detective story as we would recognize it really didn’t surface until the 1700s. It was those eighteenth century writers who would influence Edgar Allan Poe to create the detective, C. Auguste Dupin. And shortly on his heels, Emile Gaboriau created Monsieur LeCoq. Between them and Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens, Sherlock Holmes–perhaps the most famous of all fictional detectives–was born, and then fed into the Golden Age of Detective Fiction in the 1920s and 30s.

One of the interesting facts always worth mentioning about Sherlock Holmes, is that his creator thought he was barely worth while. It is the reason Conan Doyle tried more than once to end the series. He thought his time and effort would be much better spent writing historical pieces and, eventually, about the afterlife. Many of the Holmes stories were written because of a clamoring fan base. Because that is part of this story, too: Holmes was intensely popular from the very first story. People begged for more Holmes. They still do.

And another interesting tid-bit: serious fans and Holmes academics treat Sherlock as a historical figure. It is done in jest, on some level, but it is a common convention which began as early as the series’ genesis. I mean, let’s think about it. Holmes lived in a real place, full of real details and even some real characters. The stories were “written” by the character’s likewise fictional friend and helper, Dr. Watson, who “published” the exploits in periodicals as case notes for the clamoring public. The stories themselves played to all these conventions. It was a sort of genius, really. And between that, the scientific complexity of his methods of detection, and some extremely well-drawn and fascinating characters, a tour de force was born.

I walked into the complete collection of the Holmes stories from the BBC’s totally awesome Sherlock series, after the third season. In no way could I completely separate what I read, therefore, from what I had so admired on my TV screen. Basically, the Sherlock of the books looked, in my head, like Benedict Cumberbatch, and Watson looked like Martin Freeman. And so on and so forth. Seems the whole world is having a Sherlock revival, lately. Between Sherlock and Elementary and the Robert Downey Jr. movies, one can hardly avoid them.

So here is, first of all, what I have to say about the 1200+ pages of Holmes.

After only one or two stories, I found the beginnings obnoxious and cloying. For one, Watson is always a little too in awe, a little too like, “Tell me again, Holmes! I’m a complete idiot!” Which has been interesting for the franchise, because actors often interpret him at one of two ends of the idiot spectrum. But I said we were talking about the books, and we are. Watson aside, the introductions got super-super old, and if I had to read “this is perhaps the most fascinating or complex or scintillating case we ever had” one more time…

Another thing that got me every time: reading into people’s natural appearance. Now I know that life is just never as simple as a detective novel, and this cleanness is part of what draws people to read the stuff. But I have never been able to determine from the shape of someone’s nose that he is cruel, and I don’t suggest that anyone try it. It’s borderline bigotry. And it’s just weird. But even beyond their appearance, every single character wore their heart on their sleeve, right on down to the brain fever. Something bad happen at 221B Baker Street? You can bet there was going to be a run through town in disheveled clothes, a poorly-jotted note, and brain fever. No stoics and no mystery there. And the dead faces! Must everyone die with horror stuck on their face and a note clasped in their hand?!?

So when I first picked up these books, years ago, I was so discouraged by the artificiality of the deductions that I put it back down. While I’m sure many people admire the reasoning, I was distracted by the cleanness. Everything always fits together. A spade is always a spade. The clues are always clues and never just a pile of ash or a dropped ring. At the time, though, I think I was missing the point of what I would come to love about the Holmes stories: the characters. Holmes and Watson. Even Mycroft and Moriarty (in a more chilling way). But really just Sherlock Holmes. He is one of the most interesting characters ever written. I’m just telling it to you straight. Somewhere between the genius and the quirks, the drug use and the autism, lies a riveting personality that seems anything but fake, everything but fictional.

And really, the stories and novels are well-written. There are passages of beauty, moments of suspense, and many, many quotables. In fact, it’s basically addictive. And it creeps into your own reality. You become a your-life detective.

Now, you want to recall that these stories were written and published over a lifetime. That does create some inconsistencies, and there are pinnacles to the collection (like The Hound of the Baskervilles) and low points (like “The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone” and “The Adventure of the Three Gables”). Reading from the Barnes & Noble collection, however, Freeman keeps you abreast of some of these issues in the introduction and in the footnotes.

All in all, then, I recommend reading The Complete Sherlock Holmes. Not like while you’re laying out on a beach, blanket, perhaps, because it’s going to take you some time. But still, read it. If you are a fan of detective fiction, then definitely. If you are not, then even so.

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Yeah, so there are a lot of Holmes knock-offs, fan fiction, and entertainment. As for movies and shows, I narrowed it down to this:

Sherlock, the BBC series with Benedict Cumberbatch, season 1, 2, and 3 (so far). Of course, I love it. It’s why I picked up Conan Doyle in the first place. It’s rated at like a 9.8 on IMDB, so I’m clearly not the only one enjoying it. Check it out, if you haven’t already.
Sherlock Jr., the silent move with Buster Keaton. So, I almost turned it off when I realized that it was silent film. Then I almost turned it off when I realized it wasn’t really about Sherlock Holmes. But I’m glad I stuck with it for the forty minutes it took to expose myself to a gem of silent cinema. Turns out, it’s a bout a regular ol’ guy who gets framed for robbery and loses his sweetheart, and when turning to detective novels doesn’t help, he falls into a dream world where he is Sherlock Jr.  In the end, it’s a romantic comedy, and I thoroughly enjoyed the early acting, special effects, innovations, etc.
How Sherlock Changed the World, from PBS. Sorry, I really like PBS, but this was terrible. Actually, I can’t say that with finality, because I couldn’t even finish it. Just a repetitive opinion piece.
Murder by Decree ,1979. Pretty sure this is a classic. It blends fiction with reality, and I’m not sure that I like the idea. I mean, Jack the Ripper was a real disgusting guy, he was never apprehended, and the people who died were also very real. To put all this in a glass with a fictional detective and stir? I dunno. It’s not the only time is was done, or even the first. But considering that Jack the Ripper was killing during the publication of Sherlock Holmes (which was serialized), is interesting. If you want to see a classic? Fine. Otherwise, ehn.
Sherlock Holmes and A Game of Shadows, 2009 and 2011, starting Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law. Yeah, fine. OK. Within the first five minutes, my husband, who has never read a Holmes story in his life, said, “I’m pretty sure Holmes wasn’t an action hero.” That’s about it in a nutshell. Whereas Sherlock and Elementary plop Holmes into a modern setting, these two movies keep it historical… and yet, the whole thing is more modernized than any of the other ones. You know, they sexy it up, make it violent and Kung Fu-y, and blow up everything the camera crosses. So it’s entertaining, I guess. And I actually think Downey and Law do a decent job at acting. But, yeah. Fine. OK.

I have yet to watch and review:

Young Sherlock Holmes
The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes
Elementary, season 1, 2, and 3

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QUOTES

Volume 1

“‘What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence,’ returned my companion, bitterly. ‘The question is, what can you make people believe that you have done?'” (p93, A Study in Scarlet)

“Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth” (p102, The Sign of Four).

“…it is difficult for a man to have any ohect in daily use without leaving the impress of his individuality upon it in sich a wat that a trained observer might see it” (p102, The Sign of Four).

“I have a curious constitution. I never remember feeling tired by work, though idleness exhausts me completely” (p146, The Sign of the Four).

“Dirty-looking rascals, but I suppse every one has some little immortal spark concealed about him. You would not think it to look at them” (p160, The Sign of Four).

“My dear fellow,…. life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence” (p225. “A Case of Identity”).

MORE QUOTES TO COME…

Volume 2

 

 

The idea for this blog post originated somewhere in my brain after I had read Stephen King’s On Writing and before I stumbled across a particular article on writers and money. In other words, some time in the past five to ten years.

A couple weeks back, I found a link to THIS ARTICLE on another author’s blog. It is a lengthy post about money and writers, and it is excellent. It’s entertaining and humorous, which is important when you are trying to talk to artistic types about their finances. It is also wonderfully practical and wise. If you are a writer or an author (full-time, part-time, just-started, old-hat, self-pubbed, or query-sending), I would love for you to read it. Something in it may be the advice that you really need, right now.

And while I thoroughly enjoyed the laughs and the refresher on the financial front, this article also got me thinking about a theme of my own writing life: being a mom/writer. You see, among the advice that John Scalzi (in the article) gives us, he tells us not to quit our day job and to marry someone who can support us (financially and otherwise). Sure, he got a lot of flack for suggesting that people marry for money (which is not as simple as the naysayers suggest), but the point is to set yourself up, if possible, to make very little money from writing and to work very hard at it. In the end, though, I found myself resonating most with the one comment from a woman who sort of suspected that his advice wouldn’t work as well for “girls.”

Ever since I read On Writing, I have had this image in my head of Stephen King walking in the front door from work to his 1960s ranch with old carpet, dropping his overcoat on the hall table, and wading through his wife and kids straight up the hall to the closet at the end. There, he opens the door and sits down to a tiny desk in the tiny space. He spends the whole evening and night writing, as his wife feeds the kids, throws a plate of food at her husband, wrangles the kids into the bath and pjs, and the house falls silent and dark. I have shared this On Writing inspired vision, before.

It has sort of a romance to it, an allure somewhere between Charles Dickens and Benjamin Franklin. We get it. He didn’t quit his day job. He worked really hard, really long hours, in sometimes odd and inconvenient circumstances. And while I tremendously respect King and Franklin and all those other hard-working people–and it is also entirely possible that King did a lot more in his paternal evenings than sit at a desk–I have come to believe that the scene just isn’t the same for moms, and that it almost can’t be.

A pipedream.

Call me kooky, but in this climate of equality, I actually believe women and men are different. It goes back to their physiology, from their hormone balances to their brains. And yes, I dare speak in generalizations, because I believe generalizations are important and helpful. (See article HERE for my defense of generalizations.) There is always an exception to the rule. There are always gradations. Men and women should have equal rights. Yes, yes, yes. But what I’m talking about here is a near-universal experience that mothers do what mothers feel they have to do (unless they are broken). Which includes launder the costume, sew on the Girl Scout patch, nurse the baby, buy fruit and veggies, read to the child. For oh-so-many biological reasons (from the inter-connectivity of our corpus collosum to the strength of our thighs), we care. We also see how A gets to B. We see, in fact, how A, C, D, E, F, G, X, Y and Z get to B. This is why most fathers would be content to lay on the couch next to the basket of laundry (perhaps snuggling a child or just unwinding) while a mother would stand there and fold while listening to her daughter’s science report and catching up on the latest episode of Sherlock. It’s not, at root, a matter of drive. It’s a little bit a matter of goals. Most husbands have simpler goals. Go ahead, ask them. Women? They are complicated on so many levels, including their goals. They can see it all stretched out ahead of them in an intricate web, and they think, “I have to do this and this and this and this and this… today.”

Thank goodness, because in most households, it is still the mother that makes the world spin. But what happens when mom works? Or mom is single? Or–heaven forbid–mom wants to work for herself (like be a writer)? Well, then, hold the phone, because I don’t think it’s going to work to cross our genders here. Women need a different pattern to use to accomplish these things, plain and simple.

Most mothers will never (as long as they have people to care for) be able to walk in the front door, head to a desk in the back of the house, and write all night. To expect them to is to not recognize their immense strengths and their immense obstacles. It is to suppress the feminine in favor of the masculine, instead of celebrating the wonderful combinations of each inside of all these people. Moms are not usually so great at compartmentalizing. They have needs to meet, often complicated and far-reaching, and they are going to meet them, come hell or high water.

For us mom/writers, then, we have at least two sets of goals that are yanking on us at all times, demanding that we give them our all.

What I’m not saying is that women should do all the house chores and work and raise the kids, alone (unless you are single a mom). Modern American society demands than men meet more than the work-and-lawn expectation of our not-so-distant past. I’m also not saying that laundry, cooking, or vacuuming are lady chores. But women do tend to fill those roles more than men. The distribution of work and chores in your house is between you and the other people in your house. Mom can change the oil while dad sweeps the floor. Mom can even be a doctor while dad stays home. That is not at all my point. My point is that women feel differently, think differently, and even act differently, and–whether from thousands of years of adaptation or from the artistic hand of a great Creator–that makes women really great at some things and less equipped for others, and the same with men. It doesn’t mean we can’t change, or question, or embrace differences.

Well, I’m not going to solve this for anyone, here, right now. I’m just going to make some suggestions and invite conversation.

Sure, set times for writing, and stick with them. Don’t do other things during that sacred time. Shove that time in late at night, early in the morning, in your lunch break, wherever you can squeeze it.
Let other things go. You have to lower your expectations on some front, maybe many. Let go of the Pottery Barn-ready family room. Let go of the rented-pony birthday parties. If that’s a laugh, let go of the dishes or the laundry: do it less often. Make simpler dinners. I’m totally not joking. Sacrifices have to be made. Just make sure you’re still meeting the most important needs, like being with your kids and making sure they are safe.
Kick guilt to the curb. You have to. You were never going to be the perfect mom, anyways. Give yourself grace, give your kids grace, give your husband (or whomever) grace. If you really struggle with this, I suggest a 12-step program like Celebrate Recovery.
Set goals, not deadlines. Deadlines have their place, for sure, but I have found it most helpful to concentrate on one writing project at a time and just go for it, hard. Don’t slacken and don’t give up. But if Johnny is home with the vomits, you aren’t missing some huge writing deadline, you’re just waiting until tomorrow to write chapter 23.
Accept that you are a mom AND a writer. They are not, as I said in an article HERE, mutually exclusive. But it is different than being a dad and a writer. Tailor your expectations to fit the real demands of your life and your goals.

Of course, all writers have an up-hill battle of it. My ADHD, migraines, and blood-sugar issues are regular and rather rough bumps on my road to career-author. I also happen to need nine hours of sleep per night to keep those migraines at bay. Plus, things happen to me. All the time. And they happen to you, too. In fact, all these “bad” things inform our writing, they inform our career, they inform who we become.

Being a struggling mom/writer will be a part of my voice as an author, which is part of why I think having this discussion is important: I want to hear those nurturing, feminine, mom voices! I want young, hard-working women to go from pipedream to published. And I don’t think the encouragement for that can come by trying to cram all that estrogen and boobs into a guy-shaped box.

We won’t write exactly like Bob and George and John, and we probably won’t get there the same way, either.

What has happened to time?

(Despite the fact that it is now flying by at exponential speeds (which I am told gets worse and worse as you age)?)

I don’t know about you, but time here has busted right up.

You see, I have ADHD. (Surprise! Just kidding. I write about this like once every five minutes.) Among the features of the ADHD brain, many of us exhibit something called “ultrafocus.” It is the flip-side to all that distractibility, where we can’t settle at all. During ultrafocus, we become absolutely absorbed in something, so that it is hard to pull us out. ADHD patients say that during ultrafocus they forget the time, they forget to eat, pee, or sometimes even move, and they get a lot of only one thing done. This is me, and my daughter and son. When I’m really painting, or my daughter is really crafting or my son is really LEGO-ing it, there is no snacking or showering or conversing in a meaningful way.

So this chop-chop day is totally messing with me. With my rhythm. With my natural self.

How so chop-chop?

I wake up to a pressing list of things that I have to do to get myself presentable and awake and my kids clothed, fed, clean, and prepared for their days. Then I have to get all of us in the car and to school. Then I get to work (home or wherever). At some point, I eat lunch. If I’m lucky, there are no doctor appointments, grocery runs, or banks to visit during this time. Then, less than six hours later, I turn around and drive back to the school, then manage after-school things, and drive back home. I walk in the door from there and have less than an hour to get dinner on the table. Then dinner. Then dishes. Sometimes there is another thing, like Girl Scouts, that squeezes in here. Then helping with homework, reading, planning, then assisting toward bed (for like another hour). I’m left with a couple scrappy hours before I get to bed.

I’m not complaining about what I have to do in a day. For the most part, I chose this. In fact, I continue to choose it. What I am realizing is having an enormous impact on my psyche and whatnot, is that I was never meant to operate in small pieces. In my dream world, I would roll out of bed and onto my typewriter, still in PJs, and find cereal like eight hours later. I would go to bed, late, with ink smudged on my face and paper cuts on my fingers. The next day, I would spend morning till night hiking the Eno with the family, picnicking, and swimming, and reading like a whole novel together before watching The Lord of the Rings. The next, running errands from dawn till dusk. Overall, I might spend weeks forgetting to return calls while getting a book done. Days incommunicado while baking and decorating and stuffing goodie bags for a birthday party.

What you won’t catch me asking for is “five minutes” to do anything. Or a wish for ten things done in ten days in half-hour increments.

Oh wait, that’s my life. That’s modern life.

The only thing I can do to combat this intrusion on my biorhythm and personality is to realize that I am an ultrafocus person living in a shattered-day world. Then, try and make as many choices as possible in favor of more long bits and less short bits. My first choice: to work toward goals and not deadlines. Right now, every hour I have to work, I will be doing the same thing, over and over, until it is done. If I’m in an editing stage, I will be editing all six hours for however many days until it’s done. When things have to be released in pieces (like Tweets or Wattpad sections), I will tackle them in long, passionate swaths and let the internet (through scheduling) do the hard part of throwing them out onto the internet every four days. And no more of this “two minutes for Facebook.” Yuck. And what to do with those ten minutes here and there between things? Okey, so I haven’t figured it all out, yet.

I can’t stop that final school bell from demanding that I leave Clement dangling from a cliff and hie me over to the carpool lane. I can celebrate that I can get so absorbed in my art that I have tremendously productive times. That I thoroughly enjoy it while I’m there. That I have these wonderful kids and this wonderful house and this wonderful husband and, and and. And that I live in a time of modern conveniences and freedoms and opportunities. I’ll make this work, despite–in spite of–the modern inconveniences.

Well, not really. She just happened to write a sequel (back in the day) to To Kill a Mockingbird which she thought little of. She, and the world, believed the manuscript was lost and Lee decided to quit the writing life, all in the 50s. Sure enough, some sixty years later, her lawyer finds the second novel attached to a manuscript for To Kill a Mockingbird.

The book, Go Set a Watchman, will be published in July in both paperback and ebook, and the paperback run will be 2,000,000… to start. It takes place twenty years after Mockingbird and features the familiar characters of Scout and Atticus Finch, and also the sleepy Southern town where it all began. The publisher says nothing will be changed. (You can pre-order it already on Amazon, for around $25.00.)

With Mockingbird a Pulitzer prize-winning classic of American literature, a small part of its (and Lee’s) popularity and endurance has been due to mystique. For fifty years, the literary world has puzzled how a writer on top of the world decides never to produce again. (See a previous article I wrote on it, HERE.) Harper Lee has been the most famous of the Finding Forester authors (along with J. D. Sallinger) and her quiet and extended life has done nothing to decrease the curiosity and interest. Just a couple years ago, the world erupted with Lee buzz again, on the fiftieth anniversary of her novel. A new generation wondered how she could walk away, and why.

Publishing the second book, now, is an enormous risk. Not financially, of course, and I sincerely hope that Lee’s publisher and lawyer are not making light of Lee’s reputation and wishes just for this ridiculously lucrative deal. I really, really hope that this book is awesome and cohesive with the first. The risk lies in what could happen to Lee’s legacy and to her privacy, both of which have weathered the past fifty years by remaining silent. Of course, every author takes these risks with every book they publish. Authors are a courageous bunch and it’s a vulnerable life. It’s just rare that so many millions will be watching with bated breath.

And I will be watching. Despite of, or maybe because of, all the hype, I’ll be grappling for a first edition in July and I’ll be stretched out on a beach blanket finding out, after all this time, what has happened to Scout and the state of literary success.

Later this week, I am going to write a bummer of a post on how moms are almost excluded from a work-and-write lifestyle. Next week, I plan on reviewing Conan Doyle and sharing how I am mad at the internet. So I thought we should have a bit of uplifting, first, and talk about the sheer joy of writing and publishing.

It’s insanely easy to forget to enjoy something. Just a few repetitions (in fact, sometimes even on the first time ’round), and many of us are caught up in the “grown-up” side to things. The money. The time spent. What else we should be doing (the guilt). The competition. The comparison. The details. The execution. The cons. The complications.

When we were kids, we didn’t have any of these things on our minds when Christmas approached, or we left for a family vacation, or we got a new toy. He just felt happy. We were in touch with our positive emotions and very little severed us from them. Then we grew up, right? We came to understand too much, and we shouldered our responsibilities. As a bonafide adult, I just don’t see things the way I used to. In some ways, I am wiser. But I have long wondered just how much of our carefree spirit we can take with us into adulthood, or how much child-likeness we can cultivate, there.

A couple years ago (actually, maybe it was last year, time is getting more confusing to me the older I get), the head pastor of our church did a series on enjoying more. For a few months afterwards, I went about my daily life asking myself the question, “How can I enjoy this more?” When I was driving on my way to carpool: How can I enjoy this more? (Answer: Notice the scenery and the sky, turn on my favorite tunes, bring along an iced tea.) When the school called a snow day: How can I enjoy this more? (Put down that to-do list! Build a fort with the kids and sit in it with them. With popcorn and hot chocolate. And board games.) When finishing up a novel for review: How can I enjoy this more? (Answer, get comfy, slather on some chapstick, and remember that I like reading, not that it’s a race to the finish.)

That last example and last answer is what I’m getting at. Yes, it is extremely helpful to switch things up a bit to calm ourselves down and enjoy life, but it is also often just as important to remember that this is fun! When I think enjoy more, I think, remember what it is I ever enjoyed about this. I also think, notice the details and slow down, smell the roses.

I am at a place, as a writer, where I have forgotten, to some degree, that I love my job. I have donned so many hats as a publisher, editor, and entrepreneur, that I have grown worried and crotchety. I am thinking of all those other things: the money, the time, the deadlines, the goals, the guilt, the competition, the comparison, the details, the execution, the cons, the complications. And oh, the distractions! For this reason (and the frustration of trying to tie up a book while being sick after sick after sick), Devon Trevarrow Flaherty and Owl and Zebra Press has adopted a new business plan. Here it is:

Work to the goal, not the deadline. (For me. I’ll talk more about this in the coming weeks.)
Remember I like this. I even love this.

So how can I enjoy my job more?

Spend more time actually writing. And remind myself how fun that is.
Spend less time on the internet, webbing and building my platform. Although I consider this task to be necessary and maintenance is a part of that, I could easily lob off some of the less-successful and most-hated avenues I have been following to web stardom. For me, this includes YouTube and some of the online writing communities. Etc. (On the flip side, remember that I like blogging, etc. and spend most of my online time and effort there.)
Choose projects that I enjoy. This includes the particulars (like designing the book cover or sketching the illustrations) and the bigger picture (as in, write books I am going to like writing or adopt projects that are very interesting to me). Remind myself that I chose those projects, that I like doing them, and that persistence and completion will be a reward–or a pleasure–all its own.
Set up work so that enjoyment is maximized. Grab that green tea. Drop the needle down on some Mozart. Open the windows or, heaven forbid, drag your typewriter out to the porch. Do what it takes to be comfortable and give life’s tasks that little flourish, that spark.
Save the best for last. Or not. I am the type who likes to get the unpleasantness taken care of up front. So that’s cool. However, there are times when tackling a more pleasant “to do” would help you move forward. Like on a gray day, or during PMS, or whatever. Don’t keep putting the fun stuff off until you run out of time to get to them.
Cultivate thankfulness. Seriously. You have so much to be thankful for. I do, too. And I find this to be true, in the particulars, as well as food, clothing, and shelter (not to mention people). My husband and I play a game, when we are both grumpy. We just start listing, back and forth, things we are thankful for. We get creative. We get specific. There are no rules except to by honest. It’s a great game.
Cultivate contentment. Understand your place in the world and the universe. Accept it. Embrace it, even. And, per number six, be thankful for it. Make sure you are taking time to de-stress and to enjoy the (other) things you enjoy. Yoga. Hiking. Painting. But more importantly, live one day at a time and with patience, kindness, compassion, and love. (Woo. We got a little spacey there, huh?)

Yeah, there are days when I am going to plod through work. Or just have a crappy day. There are many tasks that I don’t particularly like. For example, I have to clean out the tub, do dishes, mop, and fold laundry. All the time. These are my absolute LEAST favorite house chores. As a writer, I avoid editing, dealing with others on the internet, dealing with others (period)… and every novel seems to get to the point where I’m sick of it (after several edits or a long time-investment and no conclusion in sight). But I really think that, if I want it bad enough, I can do even those things with a cheerful heart. Certainly, then, I can remember my first love, and I can recall how awesome writing is, how awesome my kids or my husband or my car is, and I can enjoy the best job in the world. Life’s just too short to hurry through it in a bad mood.

In anticipation of the publication of my second novel, I have retired the book website for Benevolent, and launched a website for Devon Trevarrow Flaherty books (in general). Yeah, yeah. I know I already have a blog, but The Starving Artist is for platform building and for getting readers and writers and publishers to engage with me: the author, the brand. Plus, I have an awful lot to say about books and writing. ;)

The new site will be where readers go to check out my books and to link between them. It’s a way to keep abreast of Flaherty book news, and also to bring the books to your book club (or write a book report about The Night of One Hundred Thieves). All the cool authors have them.

http://www.devontrevarrowflahertybooks.com

Now, for the Starving Artist-style (rather one-sided) discussion.

Do I need two websites? Do I need a website at all?

Well, we have talked about this before. And I have pointed you to more than a few indie-publishing books that would say that, yes, you should have a professional and as-large-as-you-can-handle space carved out for you in the internet. Let’s remind ourselves why. Basically, we want to sell books (whether we are a publisher or an author. It’s in all of our interests). Books sell on the internet, these days. And, more importantly, readers are on the internet, these days. Even if they purchase from a brick-and-mortar, they are likely to do their research online, be advertised to online, and/or join reading communities online. Therefore, if you want to sell more books (and make a living and enable yourself to be a career writer or publisher), you need a presence online. It is called a platform.

This could technically begin and end with your book listing, especially on some of the wider-reaching book distributors, advertisers, and/or communities. Pop up on Amazon and Goodreads and you have a lot of ground covered. However, there are two more things to consider: branding and webbing.

Modern sellers of absolutely anything are advised to create a brand that people identify, enjoy, trust, and are loyal to. There is very little ability to do that with just a sales listing. Modern authors are strongly encouraged to expand their platform with social media, because it is the way that modern readers are finding books and authors (not so much book tours or bookstore fronts). It is also free, or almost-free. A listing in the New York Times or a Kirkus review is NOT free or anywhere close to free. For the $18 price of a domain name, you can create a virtual universe for your brand: you. And with the modern tools of blog creation (WordPress, Blogger, Tumblr, Weebly…), anyone can do it. Or, you could skip the blog and head to Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, YouTube, Reddit, Buzzfeed, Slideshare, or About.Me (or others). Or, you could create your own combination of a few social media tools that interest you and fit with your time investment and brand. The point is, you want readers to identify you, to enjoy you, to trust you, and to become loyal to you. That’s going to take some work, some maintenance, and some professionalism.

By “webbing,” I mean to indicate the modern idea of putting little tendrils of information out into various directions on the internet. This activity increases the touch-points a reader can stumble upon out in the webiverse, therefore creating a sort of virtual web to catch them. Once they are snagged on a line of the web, they are drawn inward by your links, eventually to the very center of this web: through your brand, to your books. It’s a simple idea, and it must work to some extent. The question for each of us remains, which social media are working best, how are they best utilized, and how much time does an author or publisher need to invest to their maintenance? The answer to all three of these questions is not only a little ephemeral, but also not static. Change with the times. Keep up to date in your field. Be fluid. And once you’ve done your best, don’t worry about it.

Still, why on earth would an author need two websites?

I like to blog. So I have a blog that fits my brand and my job, about writing, reading/books, and indie-publishing. This is, I think, one of the cornerstones for my author platform. On the other hand, my books are not The Starving Artist. The Starving Artist is just a great way for me to connect with people to build that identification, enjoyment, trust, and loyalty. What we bloggers are warned against it creating a blog for shameless sales. Blogs work best when they are thematic and when they add something to the reader’s life. (Oh, this phrase is so overused right now.) In general, blog readers will not flock to your (or my) blog if it is a steady stream of advertisements for your books or updates on your books (or randomness. Note that you could potentially create a successful writing- or publishing-process themed blog). Blog readers are looking for enjoyment and enrichment (and for consistency and quality).

On the other hand, I feel the need to have a space somewhere where an interested reader or potential reader can connect with information about Devon Trevarrow Flaherty and her books. I don’t think this is best served with a writing, reading, and publishing blog called The Starving Artist. I like the idea of having an engaging and informative, authoritative website for people who like or are considering buying my books. It is true that all the cool authors have them. (Stephen King. J K Rowling. Amy Tan. Barbara Kingsolver…) As an author or publisher, you could always leave your information to what is listed on your Amazon Author page and on Google and Wikipedia (if you get that far). Call me controlling, but I like the idea of having the official page. And one with breadth, at that. Nowhere else on the internet is there a “Making of the Cover” and a book club discussion guide, etc. I would like to be loaded and ready for the surge of future fans. I also like throwing that additional tendril out onto the internet.

So there it is, folks. An apologetic for the new site. It’s part of my master plan to become a career author. Many more schemes on the way, because, as we know, this is an absorbing and arduous work.

Whew, baby! Just realizing that I have a back-logged guest post from before I went all disappeared from the flu and bronchitis. Many apologies to Sandra Danby, whose post was supposed to coincide with the release of her first novel, last month.

I am intrigued that she wrote a book that seems very similar to the one I have been writing for the past couple years (The Family Elephant’s Jewels, about seven siblings who discover, after their mother’s death, that she has been keeping secrets from them their whole lives) and also that her cover looks similar to The Touch (my serialized Wattpad novel). I also happen to be fairly obsessed with trees. Great minds think alike.

So here, hopefully better late than never, is the guest post by author Sandra Danby. Her novel, Ignoring Gravity, has been out since late November, and is now available in paperback and ebook. (Notes: Sandra Danby lives in England and Spain. She turned her childhood love of stories into an English degree and became a journalist. She now writes fiction full-time. Her short stories and flash fiction have been published online and in anthologies. Ignoring Gravity is her first novel)

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What is it with trees?

I didn’t start out to write about trees, but as I got further into writing my debut novel Ignoring Gravity, I realised trees were a recurring image. I had written them into the story naturally, but when I sat down and thought about it, I realised the ‘tree thing’ made sense. I was writing a novel about adoption, identity, secrets, and hidden shame that separate two pairs of sisters. And then I realised I was writing about family history too. One of my early readers asked “What is it with you and trees?”

My starting point was a thirty-year-old woman, Rose Haldane, six months after her mother has died. She is with her sister clearing out a wardrobe when they find a diary and discover Rose was adopted as a tiny baby. And she didn’t have a clue. In their mother’s handwriting they read: “October 17th 1968. I’m going to adopt a baby when she is born. It’ll be my precious secret.” Rose knows it means her. So her mother lied to her, her father too. Rose realises all her relationships have changed: her sister Lily is not a blood relative at all, nor her beloved grandmother Bizzie. Unknowingly, Rose has lied every time she ticked the “no family history of heart disease” box on insurance forms and financial statements. The family tree she has always taken for granted suddenly becomes the centre of her identity. For me, the stride from family tree–the forms which all family history researchers complete–to a real live tree, was short.

The family tree, the networking of roots and branches, stretching wide, unseen beneath the earth and hidden by leaves, is an ideal image for the twists and turns of Rose Haldane’s heritage. That’s why there is a tree on the front cover of Ignoring Gravity. The tree which inspired the design is living, tall and strong, in Wimbledon Common in London. It stands alone on a quiet part of the common, tall and over-arching. It must be hundreds of years old. Oak trees can live in excess of 1000 years. One day, as I sheltered from the rain, I noticed the pleasing effect of leaves against the sky. The tree on the front cover of Ignoring Gravity represents those leaves. The family tree imagery also explains why I was interviewed about the book sitting beneath an old gnarled tree, on a cold windy March day.

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Ignoring Gravity by Sandra Danby, is available now in paperback and e-book at Amazon.

Connectedness, second in the series of novels about ‘Rose Haldane: Identity Detective,’ will be published in 2015.

Check out the book trailer for Ignoring Gravity HERE.

Also, visit her award-winning BLOG about fiction, short stories, writing and reading; follow her on Twitter @SandraDanby; like her at Facebook.

View her Interview Beneath the Tree, below.

There’s just no way for me to keep up with every book and writing and indie publishing site on the internet. There are too many, to begin with. And stuff on the internet tends to be transient. It’s in its nature. So I don’t have time to follow every blip on the screen. I tend to follow crowds of people here or there (like to Facebook or Twitter or Goodreads) and then check on things when they are pointed out to me, say in a Writer’s Digest article. Saves me time.

The other day, I was randomly reading writing blogs (which I am told I should be doing much more regularly) and I noticed that the person listed their book for sale at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Indiebound. Huh. What is theese–how do you say–“Indiebound?” (That was in a French accent.) And listed right up there next to Amazon and Barnes and Noble! Seemed to me this author must have found it important, to list it. So I clicked on the link to their book and discovered something really pretty cool.

Maybe you already know all about it? Maybe I’m that last lady on board? For those of you as slow as I am on the up-draw, Indiebound is a website that doesn’t exactly sell books, but points you to where you can buy books locally. And it’s a big site. I, of course, immediately looked up my own book, Benevolent, and there it was, listed at all the local bookshops. Click on the store of your choice, and Indiebound re-directs you to the bookstore’s website, where–at least in the case of my closest bookstore–I can order the book online or check on its inventory in the store. Worst case scenario, I suppose you might have to make a call.

Oh, and I had to use author name to search when it didn’t pop up under title. So you might want to try that if at first you don’t succeed.

I am extremely thankful to Amazon for providing such an enormous and accessible platform for selling both my Kindle and paperback books (as I am to Barnes and Noble and Smashwords and Diesel and Apple and a few others). But at heart, I have always pulled for the locals. I buy from my local bookstore, regularly. I launch there. Back in the day when they had a cafe, I wrote at a table there. (Alas. They have cut back over the years.) I mention their name when I list my availability…

…but so far, that has only been important to people who live near me. Now, I’m happy to say, I will be able to list Indiebound with my book’s availability, and the reader will have the option of purchasing the book locally. Of course, the book is still printed with Createspace–which is Amazon’s printer–but I notice that even the snootiest bookstore in the area (they won’t let me read there because of the “affiliation”) carries by book in theory.

And I say in theory because I want to make it clear that there is no way all these local bookstores are carrying the book you might be looking for on their shelves. But these days, they have access to whatever book you might want. They are linked to either Amazon’s or Diesel’s (Kobo’s) stock. so they can just order it for you. Of course, this makes them the beneficiaries, sharing in the profits that otherwise Amazon would keep as the retail seller of the book. (Amazon still gets paid for being the printer, obviously, and the wholesale seller.) Eyes wide open, folks. But it’s still a cool thing, I think.

Oh yeah; my point. You might have a bit of a wait. Unless the book is in stock (and using Benevolent as an example, I believe it is in stock at only one brick-and-mortar), the store will have to order it for you. Seems to me this should take no time at all, and my experience with my local bookstore is just a few days for a book. However, I know of at least one person who ordered my book at a different local bookstore and after a few weeks I asked her to cancel the order and I sold her one direct and discounted. (That’s me doing customer service. Or damage control.) In the case that you are still reading another book or you have a month before your beach vacation, ordering local and waiting a week can be perfect. But when you forgot all about it until you read that last page of Sherlock Holmes Volume I in the dead of night, and now it’s a new (bleary-eyed) morning and you need a fix? Indiebound can tell you if the book (Sherlock Holmes Volume 2) is already on the ground somewhere within a car’s drive (if you follow a few rabbit trails). If it’s not, you’re left hanging. Patience is a virtue.

Also, the site contains a blog, a bestsellers list, an “Indie Next” book recommendation, and Indiebound posters and tee shirts, for starters.

I encourage you to check out Indiebound HERE, and to consider purchasing some of your books locally, supporting (a little) your local economy, looking into an actual face once in awhile, hitting the pavement with the soles of your feet. While you’re at it, you could even walk amongst the bookshelves, running a finger over all the pretty spines, pausing over the employee’s recommendations, and breathing in deeply that book glue and paper smell.

I have been struggling with a whole category of writing advice, for the past year-and-a-half. That’s about to come to an end, and I’m going to coin a new term in order to end it. I’m also going to ask that you let me capitalize whatever I darn well want to, just so I can get my point across, clearly. This is exciting, isn’t it?

Let’s start with Point of View (POV). In writing (and reading), POV is “the position of the narrator (the character of the storyteller) in relation to the story being told.” (Thanks, Wikipedia.) It is one of the Narrative Modes, which also includes Voice and Tense. POV can be First Person, Second Person, or Third Person, or sometimes Epistolary, Serial, or Flashback. The Narrative Voice “describes how the story is conveyed” and can be Character, Viewpoint Character, Objective, Omniscient (including Universal Omniscient), and Subjective or Limited Omniscient. Let’s set aside Tense for the duration of this article.

Now, when I wrote the article “POV and Other Narrative Modes,” I meant to settle issues once and for all. However, looking back, I failed to actually define POV or Voice (although I did plenty of other defining). This has cost me. You see, I find that when critics of my work (including the invited critics) talk about me “changing POV,” they are not, in fact, talking about me changing POV. It’s something subtler. Something harder to put a finger on.

We’re going to call it Focus.

And it’s somewhere between POV and Voice.

Think of it like you’re a filmmaker. Actually, the analogy is a common one. Your camera–where it is placed and which direction it’s shooting–that’s the Narrative Mode. Are you right in the action? Are you up on a distant hill? Are you in Bob’s nostril? POV and Voice both work together to give you this sense. POV tells you who is narrating for you. Voice tells you how much they know.

Actually, I think a lot of the confusion of this situation arises from people using “Point of View” to refer to “Voice.”

But more importantly, there is a distinct separation between the Voice and this other thing that people keep referring to in my work with the wrong term. Let’s get personal: when I have an omniscient narrator (usually in the third person), they can know anything, go anywhere, read people’s minds, open their mail, flit in and out of worlds. That’s their right. But when I give the reader whiplash by whisking from one character’s head or one space to another, I have violated the Focus, which is something I just made up so that we can finally talk some sense, here.

Back to that video camera. It’s all set up to give us a sense of where we are, we’re filming, and the dialogue and narration are telling us what’s going on and letting us how much we know compared to the characters. The camera is focusing on Bob. Then, while Bob is still talking, it focuses on Sally. We’ve gone cross-eyed. Wait!? I thought…?! Or the camera is facing into a family room and we are watching an argument, then all of a sudden we are staring out at the pool deck.

It’s not that the writer can not change the Focus of the story, or even of any given scene. They can! They can focus first on Bob and then on Sally. They can take us to the family room and then to the pool deck. They can tell us every little dirty secret and the history of the world. They just need to do it with skill and finesse. And they can’t (at least conventionally) change POV, Voice, or Tense.

It’s also about being consistent in your Focus throughout a given work. If we are always in Bob’s head, then in chapter one hundred and four get some internal dialogue from Sally, the reader is going to be distracted and annoyed. Unless it is really that well-executed and purposeful. Because there is always an exception. But for the most part, I think I get into trouble about Focus, not Narrative Mode. And with Focus, the judgement is fairly subjective. And I can sort of do whatever I want. As long as the reader understands me. And I’d like it to be beautiful, as well.

Let me give you an example. The Night of One Hundred Thieves is Third Person (they, he, she), Universal Omniscient (knows everything about everyone, including thoughts, even history and the future), Past Tense (did, ran, sat). “Ingrid let her mind leaf through her memories while her body wound through the narrower, more shadowed corridors of the castle. She circled around the main apartments and through the family living spaces.” Then, within one paragraph of this sentence, Ingrid runs into her pupil’s cousin and the Focus is shifted to him and his sister. In fact, Ingrid disappears completely within several paragraphs. The scene always remains Third Person, Universal Omniscient, and Past Tense. The Focus flits about, which I used in this novel (successfully or otherwise) to emphasize the number of thieves involved in the robbery, to compare and contrast their motives and circumstances, and to give place–Kentwend–the most solid feeling of all.

To recap:

Point of View is the direction from whence you are viewing the story.
Voice is what (or how much) that POV is able to tell us, the reader.
Focus is the perspective that the Narrative Mode takes, and it can change frequently or not at all. Whose brain are we in, right now? Who are we thinking about? Who or what are we focusing on?

My advice? Really wrap your brain around this. Choose wisely your POV, Voice, and Tense when beginning a story. Write it down somewhere visible, even, so that you remember throughout the writing process. Then do your magic with Focus, focusing here, focusing there, taking us in and out of people’s lives and situations, and do it in your voice (which I mean as “distinct style”), but make sure to do it clearly, artfully, and consistently.