Laughing at Fear (of Success)

Happy Halloween, BtO readers!

In honor of the day, I thought I'd spend a few moments reflecting on the fears that sometimes block our path. Not so much the legimate fears of the scary monsters of the writing business -- tough deadlines, fickle markets, and the ever-popular rejection -- but the subtle terrors that can take up residence in our subconscious and cause us to defeat ourselves.

I'm talking in particular about fear of success.

By it's very nature, Big Success is scary. It puts a writer out there in uncharted waters. It makes her visible in a way that modest, middle-of-the-pack achievement never can. It pushes her out of the safety of her current peer group and creates a profound shift in the way she will be viewed by friends and family.

It tempts the gods to smite us (you've read your mythology, right?) and inspires our internal editor (vicious harpies though they are) to shriek, "Who do you think you are?"

It also comes with larger risks, because no one makes as loud a belly flop as the highest divers when they enter the water at the wrong angle. And Big Success can't be achieved in the service of the status quo, can't be found in safety.

So just for today, try and root out any fear of success rooted in your psyche. Dress it up it a silly costume (like one of those so many insists on humiliating their poor pets with), and look at it for what it is. Then have yourself a good laugh, roll your eyes, and get yourself back to the kind of risk taking that this life (and sometimes Big Success) are all about.

In other words, get out of your own way and trust that this business will offer impediments enough.

Can This Story Be Saved? Perspective 101

Sometimes, a project's just not working. You might come to the conclusion yourself, or it might be painfully visited upon you in the form of rejection (or gigantic revision letters and/or concerned calls from your agent) but failures of perspective strike nearly every writer now and then.

I can't tell you how many times I've been blinded by the white heat of the creative process, an impending deadline, or the need to hook up a new writing contract. But this close, quick work too often takes its toll. Fear, too, muddies the water and at times gives way to desperation. And let me tell you, desperation attaches its reek to the written word and stinks up the whole project.

Often, however, months or even years later, after the emotion's had a chance to dissipate, the writer can reread the work and, Wham, Bam, really see it for the first time. Objectively, with all its strengths and flaws revealed. Suddenly, the solution is obvious, and the story can be rewritten with a singular clarity of purpose.

In many cases, the manuscript can be saved, sometimes succeeding beyond the author's wildest dreams. Think of this: Jane Austen's beloved Pride & Prejudice was written in 1796 and 1797 (when the author was only 21-22 years of age). Afterward, it was quickly rejected, but in 1809, Austen revised and sold the book, which was published following Sense & Sensibility to lasting acclaim.

In this day and age, however, it's tough to imagine building a career waiting around eleven years to gain perspective on a failed piece of work. So what's an author to do to put "wisdom" on the fast track?

1. Putting the troublesome story aside to work on other projects is often helpful. Instead of flogging the dead horse interminably, go and till another field. Try writing something very different: nonfiction instead of fiction, historical rather than contemporary (or any different genre), a short story or article or poem rather than a novel. After accomplishing useful work in another area, come back and check your "horse" for signs of life (or, alternately, the realization that the poor thing should be buried, at least for the time being).

2. Review notes from beta readers, judges, agents, or editors. Often, our emotions (pride and prejudice among them!) prevent us from really comprehending what the reviewer meant. I distinctly recall pulling out months'-old judges' sheets I'd originally thought completely idiotic and suddenly seeing the truth in them. After heeding the suggestions, I revised and quickly sold the manuscript.

3. Try tricking your brain into thinking you're reading someone else's story. Format your manuscript like a real book, using landscape orientation, two columns, narrow margins, a smaller font, and single spacing. Then print it out and pretend you're simply reading it for pleasure. Where did you get bored? Or roll your eyes in disbelief? Oftentimes, the solution will jump out at you.

One last bit of advice: Never throw away a story that's not working. Always keep an archived copy, because you never know when it make tickle your unconscious and motivate you to revise and resurrect the thing.

Does anyone else have a great tip to share for gaining perspective on a project that's not working? I'd love to hear from you.

Reflections on a firestorm (3 Questions for Sherry Jones, author of "The Sword of Medina")

Fourteen months ago, authors and others in the publishing industry were stunned to hear that Random House was pulling the plug on a six-figure, two-book deal, the fiction debut of journalist Sherry Jones, a matter of weeks before the first book was set to hit bookstores. The news touched off a firestorm of controversy, raised some tough questions, and threatened to drown the book in a flood of the very misconceptions and prejudices Jones had hoped the story would dispel. Ultimately, Jones reached a settlement with RH, and brave Beaufort Books stepped up and released The Jewel of Medina last October. This month the sequel, The Sword of Medina, is in bookstores.

From the press kit:

A'isha, the youngest wife of the Prophet Muhammad, charmed him with her wit and intelligence, eventually earning the confidence and respect of her husband and the community. When Muhammad dies without a successor, A'isha and her sister wives are devastated with grief and struggle in their new roles as Mothers of the Believers without his presence. Even worse, the Muslim community is thrown into turmoil as a Bedouin army threatens its very survival.

After losing his Prophet and then his beloved wife, Ali, the Prophet's only surviving heir, is torn. The newly chosen leadership of the faith is pressuring him to swear allegiance to them, while others urge him to seek power himself so he can lead the Muslim people as Muhammad intended. Ali fears if he does not take action, Muhammad's successors and their corrupt advisors could endanger the survival of Islam and all of its followers.

Before dying, Muhammad left his jeweled sword, al-Ma'thur, to A'isha, telling her to use it in the jihad to come. But what if the jihad is against her own people? After twenty years of distrust and anger, can A'isha and Ali come together to preserve the future of their people and their faith--or will their hatred of each other destroy everything Muhammad worked to build? This climactic sequel to the controversial The Jewel of Medina returns to 7th century Arabia to discover whether, after fighting a civil war, a people can ever truly heal.

It's been a big year, but Sherry found a moment to share a few thoughts on staying true and pushing through...

We have to start by catching up. How the heck are you? Tell us about the roller coaster ride you've been on since the enormous controversy over the publication of The Jewel of Medina.
"Roller coaster" pretty much sums it up. A year ago, I was getting death threats, directly and online, and trying to keep my British publisher after his home office was attacked. I got several nasty reviews from U.S. critics who, by and large, never even discussed The Jewel of Medina but focused on the controversy. I had hate mail from Islamophobes offended by my portrayal of Islam and the Prophet Muhammad. But I tried to keep my goals in sight.

I wrote The Jewel of Medina not only out of a huge respect and regard for A'isha, the book's protagonist and the most famous and influential woman in all of Islam, but also out of a desire to demonstrate that oppression of women is not Islamic. The Sword of Medina shows how women's considerable rights under Muhammad were eroded by the male power structure after the Prophet's death. Both are feminist books. They're also books that I hope will help eliminate hatred by helping non-Muslims understand Islam and its founders. So even as I've been attacked by various factions for mostly political reasons, I've kept love and peace in mind. The result is that I've been able to rise above the nastiness and speak around the world about women's rights, women in Islam, Islamophobia, and, of course, free speech, which as a journalist I hold very dear.

The Sword of Medina continues the compelling story of A'isha, the youngest wife of Muhammad, after the death of the Prophet, taking us back to 7th century Arabia and tossing us into the middle of a civil war. You haven't backed down a bit from the story, but did the events of the past 18 months influence your approach to the material?

I wrote The Sword of Medina before the controversy erupted, and had turned it in to Random House before I learned of their decision to "indefinitely postpone" publication of both books. Since I'd already done most of the research and I already knew my characters, The Sword of Medina practically wrote itself. But in the wake of the controversy, I'm glad I made some of the choices I made for the sequel. I was aware, for instance, that Ali, Muhammad's cousin and A'isha's nemesis, comes off as a jerk in The Jewel of Medina. Of course he was much more complex than that, but the story is from the point of view of A'isha, who didn't like him. In The Sword of Medina, I included Ali's voice. As a result, both he and A'isha are deeper, rounder, fuller characters -- and the Shi'a version of events gets told as well as the Sunni version, which prevailed in the first book.

You must feel like you've climbed a mountain with these two books, my dear. A phenomenal way to begin a career as a novelist at a pivotal moment in the publishing industry -- and in the world. Where will you go from here?
I've always had many more ideas than time to execute them. The same holds true now. I'm working on another historical fiction novel and I have at least one more in mind after that, but I also have contemporary fiction in mind. The themes that seem to excite me the most are women's rights and the huge influence of religion on societies. I worked as a journalist for thirty years and I never lost my idealistic hopes of making a positive difference in the world. I hope to do the same now through fiction.

Visit Sherry's website for more.

Making Friends with the Revision Process

BtO reader Lark asks us:

I've heard some authors say they never have them, others talk about 10+ page revision letters. If an agent or editor "loved" the work, what kind of revisions are they likely to want?

That's a terrific question. I well remember, after the initial rush had faded in the wake of my first novel sale, receiving a box from my editor containing the battle-scarred manuscript, which was marked up for revisions. The delivery followed a phone conversation touching on some more general points she hoped I would address. (Throughout my career, I've never received the "revision letter" a lot of authors bemoan. At some houses, they're de rigueur, but for me, phone calls from the editor have always been the way.)

But back to the box in the mail. I decided to go through the manuscript and mark the location of every editorial note with a green sticky note. By the time I'd finished, the manuscript - all 500 pages of it (ten years ago, it was no great shakes if your historical romance was 120 or 125K words) looked as if it had grown moss. Seriously, there were suggestions on nearly every page, and we're not talking copyedits but commentary regarding character consistency, flat or jarring dialogue, sexual tension (or lack thereof), hooks for the end of not only every chapter but each scene, etc.. It was a wonderful and incredibly rare (editors seldom can spare the time or have the patience do edit on this level, especially nowadays) crash course that was the best education I could have possibly received at that juncture.

It was also scary as hell.

"But I thought it meant she liked my book when she bought it!" I wailed after looking at the Mountain O' Moss and trying to imagine how long it would take me to get through it. And what might happen if I failed to address each requested change. Would she yell at me? Bad-mouth me to all the other editors? Fly to Texas, spit in my eye, kick my dog and steal my firstborn child? Or, WORSE YET (cue the gasping) kick me out of the published author club by canceling my book?

As I painstakingly worked my way, page by page, through those revisions, it gradually dawned on me that -- hey, wait a minute -- the editor was actually on my side, the book's side, and the side of its potential readers. The changes I was making were sharpening the book's focus, ramping up its impact, and, what's more, making me a far better writer as I absorbed the lessons gleaned from her experience working on countless other novels. By clapping onto the fact that we were working as a team in the service of my novel's success, I totally changed my attitude about revisions. Instead of dreading them, I came to see them as a sign I had an editor who really cared about the story.

I've never again had to do such extensive edits, but when I do get those calls, I welcome them (after a few minutes of feeling bruised and misunderstood, anyhow) as the chance they are to make my manuscript the very best book I can.

Scott Jeffrey's "5 Powerful Decisions to Transform Your Business" (tweaked for the writing life)

I've been keeping one eye on Scott Jeffrey's Enlightened Business blog lately, and last week I saw something that blew my mind a little. These "5 Powerful Decisions to Transform Your Business" will radically change my 2010 business plan. (And YES, you need a business plan if you're in the business of writing! My dad always said. "Plan your work, work your plan." We'll return to that topic at the end of the year.) Scott's original post makes great sense for any company, but here's my tweak on it, applying the same principles to the soul proprietorship that is the corporate body for most working authors.

#1 Decide to focus on your best customers.
This is that "laser like focus" Colleen talks about, and it goes beyond cultivating a readership. It also speaks to the relationships we build with our publishers.

#2 Decide to focus on building a highly functional team.
Three essential teammates for writers: A smart, aggressive, like-minded agent. A smart, supportive, and collegial critique group. Domestic allies who understand what you do. Team-building with those key people is a whole 'nother post. Watch this space.

#3 Decide to grow from within.
Scott's post talks about a "corporate culture" that aligns core values. For a company of one, that means being the industry you want to work in. Organized. Optimistic. Perseverant. That's not what you do; that's who you are. Seriously sit down and consider your artistic philosophy, then embrace and embody it without apology or compromise. To thine own self be true -- all other ground is quicksand.

#4 Decide to be the best at something.
"This decision requires sacrifice and focus," says Jeffreys. Boy howdy. Does it ever. Malcolm Gladwell hypothesizes that you're the master of a craft after 10,000 hours of practice. And you've really got to LOVE doing something if you're going to put in that kind of mileage. What is it about this work that gives you that little chill of yes? Dialogue? Sense of place? Untying a Gordian knot of a plot? I think that frisson becomes an affinity at about 3,000 hours. After 6,000 hours, the affinity becomes a knack. Somewhere around 9,000 hours, that knack becomes a strength. And once you become a master, that strength becomes your brand.

#5 Decide on a more compelling future for your organization to rally around.
The publishing industry has undergone a seismic shift in the last 12 months. We're in the wild, wild west now, my darlings. Anything is possible, so why not envision something wonderful? What is the real essence of what we all want for this industry? For me, it largely comes down to fair pay for good art. Writers have to envision that future and earn it.

My first step in that direction: a solid business plan. I can't wait to sit down on Dec 26 to work on mine with my annual "Plan Your Work, Work Your Plan" breakfast of coffee and Christmas cookies. These five transformative rules have seriously adjusted my thought process and just might make 2010 my best year ever.

We live by decision. It's that simple. Large and small choices shape an office environment, a day, a career, and ultimately a life. That's the terrifying, thrilling possibility for transformation in every moment.

Sunday Groove (Remember that thing called a "weekEND"?

Plenty of hard information headed your way this week. Just for today, can you surrey? Can you picnic? Easier said than done, but go outside and give it a try...

Back to the Basics

This weekend I'm attending Todd Stone's Novelist Boot Camp, a hands-on workshop covering practical strategies for writing and revising. I'm really enjoying it, but then, I'm a sucker for any workshop that gives me tools for looking at the overarching structure of my work in progress and dynamics of its characters, etc. Basically, Todd points to one of his helpful charts or makes some comment that helps me connect with earlier learning, and bang! My brain's off to the races as I think about some critical element that needs to be worked into my book.

I think that far too often, working writers lose touch with improving our craft. Overwhelmed with juggling the promotion of a new release, edits for a manuscript, and the creation of a new story (among other tasks) we fail to make time to revisit the touchstones that helped us sell books in the first place. It's not that most writers get lazy or complacent (writers as a group are remarkably insecure, in fact, because of the built-in instability of the business). We're simply overcome by the incredible amount of multitasking needed to keep the boat afloat.

Now and again, though, the universe sends the writer a sign (often in the unsubtle form of a poor review, major revisions, or an unexpected rejection) that reminds one it may be time to revisit the fundamentals and pay close attention to the elements of craft. I heed those warnings because I'd far rather being one of the more experienced authors in a workshop than being one of those whose very best work is receding in the rear-view mirror.

Are there any particular writing books or workshops you find yourself revisiting when you're in need of a craft boost?

Sweet Deal (It's not always about the money)

I'm out of town and up to my neck, but I wanted to chime in at least a little this week. About 18 months ago, I posted the bit below, and I got an email earlier this week from a reader who pointed out that with the dramatic shifts in the marketplace, it's even more true now than when I wrote it...

According to the legend at the bottom of every deal report from Publisher's Marketplace, a "nice deal" is $1 - $49,000, a "very nice deal" is $50,000 - $99,000, a "good deal" is $100,000 - $250,000, a "significant deal" $251,000 - $499,000, a "major deal" is $500,000 and up. The legend is basically a waste of space, of course, because only a tiny fraction of authors make it past "good", and even those lucky ducks who do recognize the difference between the $100K and $250K per annum lifestyle. If PM actually wants to make this information useful, to give authors (and agents and editors) some actual frame of reference, they need to break those first two levels down to bite size and label anything over $150K "Neenur Neenur Neenur".

A far more accurate system for quantifying your latest advance: "The Real World Book Deal Descriptions" from John Scalzi's Whatever blog, which still cracks me up years later.

$0 to $3,000: A Shitty Deal. Because that's what it is, my friends. Possibly the only thing worse than a shitty deal is no deal at all. Possibly.

$3,000 to $5,000: A Contemptible Deal. The deal you get when your publisher has well and truly got your number, and it is low.

$5,000 to $10,000: A "Meh" Deal. It's not great, you know. But you can pay some bills. Get a few of these, and a tolerant spouse with a regular income, and you can tell your day job to piss off. This year, anyway.

$10,000 to $20,000: A Not Bad Deal. Note that "not bad" here should be said with a slight appreciative rise of the eyebrows and a small approving nod -- this is the level at which the money begins to look not embarrassing both to writers and non-writers. A couple of these, and you'll definitely be punting the day job (I did, anyway).

$20,000 to $100,000: A "Shut Up!" Deal. This needs to be said in the same enviously admiring vocal tone as a teenage girl might use to her girlfriend who is showing off the delicious new pumps she got at Robinsons-May for 30% off, or the vocal tone (same idea, lower register) Jim Kelly used when one of our number admitted to having at least a couple of deals in this range. With this kind of money, you don't even need a supportive spouse to avoid the Enforced Top Ramen Diet (although, you know. Having one doesn't hurt). But it's not so much that the other writers actively begin to hate you.

$100,000 and above: "I'm Getting the Next Round." Because if you're at this level, you can buy and sell all the other writers at the table. Get 'em a friggin' beer, for God's sake (ironically, this is the only level not thought up at the bar, but in the cold hard light of the next morning, by Shara Zoll).

Seriously. There's a lot of truth there. But we need to go one step beyond that and recognize that there are a lot of intangibles that have to be considered when striking a book deal, whether it's your first or forty-first.

I placed my first novel with a small literary press. (A book presciently titled Crazy for Trying .) I had no agent, so I fielded The Call on my own.

"What sort of advance were you hoping to receive?" asked the editor.

"Advance?" I gasped liked I'd been goosed. "Oh, I never expected you to offer me an advance."

He cleared his throat and quietly said, "Um...Joni? You're not supposed to tell me that."

"Ah. Right. I meant..." (Backpedal, girl, backpedal!) "I meant eight million. Yeah, eight million is what I usually get."

The fact is, getting published by this prestigious little press was -- well, it was beyond stepping stone. It was elevator. It was oil rig. It was flying buttress. It was the vital difference between being a writer and being an author. In the course of that phone call, I went from being Joni Rodgers to being Joni (Crazy for Trying) Rodgers.

The editor offered me $4K, I gratefully accepted it, and took my kids to DisneyWorld. I've gotten bigger advances for subsequent books, but that was the biggest deal I ever signed.

The bottom line isn't always the bottom line in book deals. Getting that first book properly published is a huge, crucial step. Any advance is gravy on top of that critical career biscuit, and as you go forward, there are other concerns worth compromising for. Working with a particular editor. Building a relationship with a publishing home. Signing with a smaller press with a more motivated and personalized PR plan.

On the flip side, I was watching Suze Orman's spiel on PBS the other day, and she said two things that really resonated with me: "You are not on sale." And "Stop doing things that make you feel like a liar." It's really tough for me to be assertive about my own value, especially in the realm of ghostwriting, but homegirl here ain't no bargain basement. I'm good at what I do, and I work insanely hard at it. If I sign a deal that strips me of my self-respect, I am forcing every word and faking every smile. That doesn't serve anyone well.

It's been ten plus years since I struck that first book deal -- a nice deal, a sweet deal -- and I've learned a bit from every contract since. A good deal is not just in the dollars. It's in how I feel about my work, where it goes, and how it gets there.

Increasing Your Productivity

BtO reader Suzan Harden wants to know:

Have you become faster in writing a first draft as you gain more experience? What tips would you recommend for us newbies besides having a detailed outline (and other than sending the family to the in-laws and the dogs to the kennel)?

My first manuscript (written with a co-writer) took seven years to write. My first novel that sold (my fourth manuscript overall) took about a year. Subsequent full-length books have taken between five and nine months, depending on the length and complexity of the project, time needed for research, and how desperate I am to meet some deadline.

So how does one shorten the length of time necessary to produce a manuscript?

1. Set a goal and work backward from it.
I knew I wanted to put out two books a year whenever possible. If it takes me a month to write a proposal (about 50 pages plus synopsis) and a month to revise/edit, the leaves me four months writing time for the bulk of the manuscript. Once I get moving on the book, I figured I can reasonably write at least five new pages per day any five days per week for a net gain of about 100 pages per month. Four months, therefore, equals a 400-page draft and six months, a complete manuscript. At least, it works that way in theory.

In reality, it takes me longer than a month to nail down the proposal (part of the reason that publishing two big books a year doesn't always happen for me). This is the point at which I'm establishing characters, framing the story, and figuring out not only what happens but what themes I'm exploring. I tend to do lots of big-picture work, such as webbing, creating sociograms, collaging, and/or brainstorming with critique partners and my agent at this point. This all saves me time in the long run, and in a lot of ways, it's the most exciting, truly creative part of my process.

One time-saver that can be worked into the planning stage is thinking about several connected books and their overarching story, if you plan to do a series, all at once. This makes things much faster when you go to write the latter books, since you'll already know some of the characters and your overall direction.

2. Create a personal "sense of obligation."
I'm very motivated by deadlines. I despise being late for anything, to the point where it gives me nightmares. I put this aversion to good use by telling my agent, "I'll have this proposal to you by ______________." Even though she won't hold me to it, I will. I promise my editor to have projects turned in by a certain date and sign a contract to that effect. But even before I had obligations to publishing professionals, I trained myself for them by setting my own deadlines. I would have a manuscript finished before, i.e., the cut-off to enter the Golden Heart or by the end of my summer vacation. (As a teacher, I worked on a manuscript throughout the school year, then finished it during the summer break, when I had a chunk of uninterrupted (or less frequently interrupted) time. My self-imposed deadlines (written on my calendar in ink) were absolutely rigid in my mind, which turned out to be very good training.

3. Come to terms with my individual pace.
In my heart of Hermione Granger-like hearts, I'm a competitive, Type A creature, as I suspect most authors are. I remember looking around myself, thinking this is cool. I can write a book every six to nine months without killing myself or driving off family and friends. Yet, I looked around and saw that some authors were published three, four, five, or more books in a year. And let's not get started on La Nora (who has the nerve to write as skillfully as she does swiftly.) I had to accept that, as Joni likes to say, I am an orchard not a factory, and that, beyond a certain threshhold (every writer has one) I would be spitting out work that's less than my best and hating the whole process. I'd rather go back to teaching (another career I really enjoyed) than do that.

4. Sell your children off for scientific experiments.
Let's face it, kids are real time-sucks. Spouses, too, and friends, parents, pets, so if you really want to increase your writing speed ---

Wait. Seriously. This solution only seems like a good idea in the heat of frustration or the occasional, deadline-spawned nightmare. You do not want to end up falling dead over your keyboard at the age of whatever, only to find out you completely forgot to live a life.

I hope that this has helped a little, Suzan (and thanks for the great question.) I know that National Novel Writing Month is fun and motivational for a lot of people, but it leaves me feeling frustrated and defeated. As you discover your own process, you'll find bits and pieces of many different approaches that work well for you and others that clash. The trick is in picking the good and tossing the latter.

If anyone else has tips for increasing productivity, I'd love to hear yours!

BtO Contest: Win Linda Cowgill's The Art of Plotting

A friend gave me a brand, spanking new copy of Linda Cowgill's guide for screenwriters, The Art of Plotting: Add Emotion, Suspense, and Depth to Your Screenplay and asked if I'd like to give it away on the blog.

I seriously thought about swiping it for my own, but since my to be read pile threatens to scrape the ceiling, I've restrained myself.

To be eligible to win the drawing, all you have to do is post a comment telling us what future writing-related topics would you like to see us discuss in future posts here on Boxing the Octopus.


Linda Cowgill is a screen and TV screenwriter, instructor, and author of several books on writing. You can read more about her here.

Palindrome for the soul ("Lost Generation" by Jonathan Reed)

Yo, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum: Thoughts on Life as a Galley Slave

This morning, I received the galleys, or page proofs, for my March release, Touch of (cue ominous music) Evil. Since I only completed edits about a month ago and went through it again for copyedits two weeks back, I have to admit, I wasn't exactly thrilled to see it darken my door again so soon, especially since galleys always have a fairly short turnaround, and I'm working on getting a couple of proposals shaped up for submission.

But galleys matter. Really matter. They're the very last line of defense for your readers, and it's up to you to save them from any missed typos, screw-ups introduced during the editing process, and continuity errors. They're the last chance to wash the face and tie the shoelaces of this project you've sunk hundreds of hours into creating before you send it out into the world.

Give your galleys short shrift, and problems will come back to haunt you, if not in the guise of angry reader letters, then in lackluster reviews or more importantly, a lost opportunity for repeat business from readers jerked out of the story by your sloppy workmanship. Some writers might think, "Well, it's my job to write the story, and the editors' job to clean it up," but in the mind of most readers, the buck stops with the person whose name graces the cover of the book.

So there'll be no rum for me, or wine or vodka either, until I finish and not a lot of yo-ho-hoing, either, only sustained and serious concentration on a story as I wish it luck and send it on its way.

It's a goodbye for me as well, for this will be the last time I read the novel I've read so many times before. Many of my colleagues read their books as soon as they're in print, but I'm always afraid I'll spot some error that slipped past me, ones that can't be fixed. Besides, by the time this book appears, I'll be immersed in other projects, and as a writer, I much prefer looking forward and not back.

If anyone has any brilliant tips for improving your focus on galleys, I would love to hear them. Otherwise, I'll see you on the other side!

Jane Campion's brilliant "Bright Star"

Jerusha pried me out of my office to see "Bright Star" on Saturday afternoon, and it was quite lovely. Every frame of this movie is so beautiful, every word of the script so meticulously crafted...it momentarily displaced my almost unshakable hatred for the Regency period. (All that standing on ceremony at the expense of practicality and compassion makes me want to smack somebody.) Check it out. With Kleenex.

Bright Star, Would I Were Stedfast
By John Keats

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art---
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors---
No---yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever---or else swoon in death.