Book Trailers

I never did a book trailer for Deathday.  I find most to be somewhat cheesy, amateurish, and most importantly, they don't make me want to read the book.

The trailer below is an example of how great a book trailer can be.  It's for Patrick Ness's A MONSTER CALLS, which I read and loved.  I think you'll love it too. That is all.

Bits and Bobs

I don't really have anything specific to write about today, but it seems like THINGS are happening.  Lots of things.  All the things.  And it's kind of exciting.

Don't Ask Don't Tell is finally over.  This makes me happier than states allowing gay marriage.  Being a patriot means upholding the constitution.  And the constitution has not ever and will not ever institutionalize the oppression of any group.  Every single person who claims to be a patriot while simultaneously trying to deny basic, unassailable rights, is a hypocrite of the highest order.  That's all I'm going to say about that.

Remember that kerfuffle last week about the authors who were supposedly asked to remove a gay character from their book?  Turns out it may not have been true...at least not in the way it was portrayed.  It's turned into a game of he-said/she-said that I'm, quite frankly, not interested in.  Any agent that discriminates against anyone, won't be an agent for long.  And any author who tries to manipulate readers, bloggers, and other authors in order to make a name for themselves, won't be writers for very long.  However, what I am interested in is the response.  A lot of other agents rallied and claimed that YA is a super inclusive group, that homophobia isn't really an issue in publishing.  To which I call bullshit.

Listen, people may not be sitting around trying to figure out ways to keep gays or blacks or muslims or christians out of books, but there is a subconscious vein discrimination in publishing and YA.  Every time someone says, "Gay books are harder to sell," or "Black protagonists aren't popular in bookstores," they're discriminating.  There ARE publishers who take chances.  There ARE writers who sell these stories.  Hannah Moskowitz recently sold an MG book featuring a gay protagonist.  In fact, it's about a kid who's breaking into a high school prom to meet the guy he's got a crush on.  But to suggest that there's no discrimination in YA or publishing is ridiculous.  The excuse that books with black protags don't sell well, therefore it's best to put a white girl on the cover, isn't just discriminatory, it's insulting.  It's insulting to readers, to writers, and to anyone with half a brain.

I know publishing is a business, but it's also more than that.  Especially in YA, we're reaching out to kids.  We're showing them the world.  If we wrap a book about a black girl in a cover featuring a white girl, we're telling black girls everywhere that they're not as good.  If we eliminate gay characters from books, we're telling gay kids they're not worthwhile.  So, you know, there's that.

Here's a happy thing:  I got new dogs!  Matt and I adopted Chewie (the obese Pomeranian) and his buddy Rory (the maltese/poodle).  They came as a package deal and they're super sweet.  The surprise was finding out that Rory is deaf.  I'm not sure if the shelter knew, but it was pretty clear to me and Matt that he couldn't hear.  They're a handful, but totally sweet and awesome.  Chewie clearly needs to shed some pounds.  He's supposed to be like 5-7 lbs and he's currently approaching 17lbs!

Enjoy some pictures :)

Chewie chillin'

Matt and Rory about to nap.

Rory and Chewie excited for a walk.

Blog Chain - You Gotta Have Faith

I don't know how I'm going to follow Christine's blog chain.  Seriously, reading all those stories was awesome.

But it's my turn and I have to come up with something :)

In writing, we talk a lot about grabbing the reader from page 1.  From the first paragraph, the first sentence.  I spend a lot of time working on my first paragraphs because I know that agents and editors are pretty much going to decide whether they want to keep reading based on that.  It's the first impression.  A crappy first page is like walking into an interview in your underwear.  So it's important to grab your reader right away.

But what about those books that don't?

What are three books you would tell people that they need to keep reading even if they aren't immediately sucked in by the first page?

1.  Any book by Melina Marchetta...but especially JELLICOE ROAD.  Every time I see someone reading a book by Marchetta, I tell them that they need to give it 50 to 100 pages.  That's a lot.  It's a lot to ask someone to give a book 100 pages.  But Marchetta is an author in whom I have faith.  Recently, my friend Trish was reading THE PIPER'S SON.  She said she wasn't into it, and I told her to give it about 75 pages.  A little bit later she told me that on page 62, she became invested.  Marchetta isn't the kind of author who grabs you from page 1.  She weaves a web of characters.  They take time to trap you.  Every Marchetta book I've read has that "A-ha!" moment where all the pieces make sense.

2.  THE KNIFE OF NEVER LETTING GO.  The thing about this book by Patrick Ness is that the dialog uses broken dialect.  The first time I read it, I nearly quit, and when I see one of my friends read it or when I loan my copy out, I make sure to tell them to give the book a chance.  Don't let the dialect distract you from this amazing story.  And it is amazing.  One of the best YA series ever.

3.  THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF KAVALIER AND CLAY.  I know this one might be a stretch for some, since it won the Pulitzer in 2001, but when I read it, it took me 2 months to get through the first 200 pages and about a week to get through the remaining 450.  It's a dense book, and Chabon makes every word count.  But in the beginning, there's a lot to take in.  It's not an easy book to just sit down and read for twenty minutes before bed.  It requires some patience and dedication.  But it's ultimately worth it.  Chabon's book about two young men who bond over comic books is one of the best books I've ever read.  And if I hadn't had some faith, I would have missed out.

So that's it!  I could actually go on forever, about books that need some extra patience, but three is all I have time for.  What about you?  What books would you recommend that maybe need some faith on the part of the reader?  Drop some titles in the comments, and then head on over to Sarah's blog tomorrow to find out what kick-ass titles she's going to recommend.

Blog Chain - Write Now!

Blog chain time!

Christine picked the topic for this round (Thanks a lot, Christine) and here it is:

Since we are all writers, I thought it was about time for us to stretch our creative muscles and do a little writing. So, take the following topic and go crazy! Show us what you've got. Your story can be as long or as short as you choice.

The topic: A dark and stormy night.

I'm just going to dive in, so here goes.

The biggest thing I ever set fire to was a house.  But the house deserved it.  I promise.  I swear.  On the life of my best friend.  Not that you'll believe me.  No one ever does.

 But I gotta tell someone what happened and it might as well be you.

 Theo and I rode our bikes down the steep hill with our hands in the air and the wind blowing across our sweaty noses like there wasn't nothing else in the whole universe that was worth doing.  Truthfully, there wasn't.  I mean, sure if you asked my mom, she'd have told you that I should have been mowing the grass or cleaning the wet leaves out of the gutter or doing my homework even.  But moms have to think like that.  They're hardwired to put everything practical over all the best parts of life.  Sometimes I wondered if having babies made moms forget how to have fun at all.  Just thinking about it made me never want to have a kid. 

 "Jones!" shouted Theo as he kicked on his brakes and skidded to a stop at the bottom of the hill.  I flew right by him and just about crashed into Mr. and Mrs. Pond's mailbox on account of I was looking at what Theo was pointing at.

 It was a house.  On the corner of Song and Canterbury.  There hadn't been a house there the day before.  Or the day before that.  I'd lived in Pascal my entire life--fifteen years--and there'd never been anything on the corner of that street but the occasional lemonade stand.  I should know.  I had one there myself when I was eight.  Made four dollars.

 Except there it was, plain as the fear in Theo's eyes. 

 The house itself wasn't much to look at.  Two stories.  The paint falling off of it in patchy bits here and there like a dog with mange.  But, and you can call me a liar if you want or tell me I need to get my head examined--don't think I haven't already thought it--I swear that the windows watched me, that the walls breathed.  I forgot I was on my bike and I turned to run.  Damn near busted my front teeth in when I fell and hit the pavement.  Not that I felt it.  The primeval part of my brain, the part left over from when every day was life or death, was screaming at me to run.  Run fast.  Run far.  Run and don't stop running until I reached safety or collapsed from exhaustion.  Just run. 

 "Theo?"  I'd known Theo Parker my whole darn life.  He didn't talk much and repelled girls like he was surrounded by an anti-girl field, but he was my best friend.  The kind of friend my dad told me I'd look back on when I was ancient like him and be thankful I'd had.  And in all the time I'd known him, I'd never seen that look on his face.  Not ever. 

 I wished I hadn't seen it then. 

 "Stop it, Theo, you're freaking me out."  I got up and winced when I brushed my hands off on my jeans.  They were scraped and bleeding and there were bits of gravel and sand buried in the cuts.  It stung like fire ants but I had to get to Theo.  He was taking slow, deliberate steps toward the house on the corner of the street.  But that wasn't what scared me.  Even as his feet moved, he resisted.  That's what was on his face.  The fear.  The terror.  The absolute certainty that he didn't want to go near that house, didn't want to go in it.  That doing so would be death.

 "Jones?" called Theo.  "You gotta help me.  I…I don't know what's going on.  C'mon, Jones."

 I ran to Theo and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him as hard as I could.  Tear ran down his cheeks and dripped onto his shirt.  I couldn't budge him.  "This isn't funny," I said. 

"I'm not playing," said Theo.  He reached the sidewalk in front of the house.  "Jesus, Jones, what's going on?"  Theo was screaming for help.  I figured that any moment Mrs. Pond was gonna come running out of her house in that yellow dress she was always wearing, and tell us to shut up so she could watch TV, but no one came.  In fact, there wasn't a single sound.  Not a bird, not a car, not even the wind.  It was like everything had been put on mute.

 "Hold on, Theo," I said.  Without thinking, I took a run at Theo and tackled him to the ground.  We went down in a tangle of arms and legs and, at one point, I lost one of my sneakers.  Theo fought me, he bit me, but I refused to let him go. 

 But the house was stronger than I was. 

 Theo punched me so hard in the nose that my eyes burned and I couldn't see or swallow or breathe.  Hot blood poured into my mouth as I groaned and fell backward.  That's when Theo got up and turned back to the house.  One foot in front of the other, he walked up the weedy path until he was standing at the front door.

 "Theo!" I yelled and tried to stand.  Vertigo rushed through me and I teetered to the side.  I thought I was going to throw up but I gritted my teeth and straightened up.  "Theo, come back!"

 The front door of the house opened up.  The hinges creaked as it swung inward.  Despite the sun and the heat, I was cold.  Theo screamed.  It was raw and tore from his throat like no sound I'd ever heard in my entire life.  A stain of urine spread across the front of his pants and down his leg. 

 And then it stopped.  The scream. 

 I blinked and Theo was gone.  The door was closed.

 The house remained.

 Truthfully, I don't know how long I was standing there in the middle of the road.  I might have stood there all night long if a car hadn't come down the hill and nearly run me down.  It was Mr. Goodman.  He honked his horn and yelled something foul at me as he jerked the steering wheel and went around me. 

 Maybe it was my imagination--though I'm pretty certain it wasn't--but I could have sworn I saw Theo standing in the window, looking at me like he was the house's eyes.  Like he was the house. 

 That's when I knew I needed to save my best friend and get rid of that house forever.    

 As I picked up my bike and got on it, my hands screaming with pain, my nose stuffed full of dried blood, and bruised like an overripe plum, lightning arced across the sky and thunder followed shortly.  It began to rain.  I hoped I had enough gasoline.  

Annnnnnnd done.  Sorry for the suckage.  I thought I was posting tomorrow so I didn't have time to come up with something more fun.  Anyway, if I haven't put you to sleep, go check out Tere's awesome space adventure, and then head over to Margie's blog tomorrow to find out what kind of story she's going to spin.  Until next time!

Diversity Now

This.  Read this.  Then come back.

Allegedly, two authors submitted a book and were told by an agent that if they removed a gay character, that the agent would represent them.  I only say allegedly because the authors won't reveal the agent (and I'm on the fence about whether or not they should), making their story unverifiable at this time.  I wouldn't be surprised though, to find out that it's true.

I really only have this to say:  Any agent or editor who tried to force me to remove a gay character or a black character or a Muslim character or a disabled character, because they were worried the book wouldn't sell, is an agent or editor I wouldn't ever work with.

I'm on the agent hunt right now.  And when I created my list of agents, I sought out those who published books by authors who were courageous.  Books that pushed the boundaries.  Those are the agents I want to work with.  The kind of people who get handed a book by their author that might be a tough sell, and then go out sell the crap out of it.  Those are the kinds of people I want to work with.

And I think that the agent who suggested these authors remove gay characters from their books is probably going to find it difficult to remain an agent for long.  Karma's like that sometimes.

Sometimes I think some agents take their roles as "gatekeepers" too far.  They only want to take books to editors that are 100% guaranteed to sell.  Where's their adventurous spirit?  Where's their drive to push the boundaries?  Andrew Smith has a book coming out next month called STICK.  I'm going to do a full fledged review of it as the date grows closer.  It's exactly the kind of book I'm talking about.  Fearless, courageous, amazing.  And probably the kind of book that a lesser agent might have had difficulty placing.  But his agent found it a home.  And his editor helped bring it to the world.  And when you read it, you're going to be really grateful that not everyone is as close-minded as the agent who requested those changes.

I'm done here.      

Explanations

You must give them.

Mysteries are fun.  They're compelling.  They make for great stories.  Something strange is happening, and it's up to our heroes to figure out what's going on and stop it.

As a writer, if you string your reader along with a mystery, you have a responsibility to explain to your readers what is going on.

Take MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS.  Great, fun book.  Agatha Christie presents us with a murder.  She goes through the suspects.  Then she tells us who the murderer is.  (I'm being deliberately vague in case someone hasn't read it.)  However, what if she had stopped there?  Told us who the murderer was but not why the murder had been committed.  That'd be okay, right?  WRONG.  The mystery isn't just WHO killed a man, but WHY.

I've been watching TORCHWOOD: MIRACLE DAY over the last ten weeks.  I've been a fan of the DOCTOR WHO spinoff for some time.  But I was blown away by the miniseries CHILDREN OF EARTH.  It was a 5 part series that was a nearly perfect example of how to tell a story.  The conceit was simple, the stakes insanely high, the pacing brutal, the explanation simple and clear, and the conclusion compelling.  I had high hopes for the second series which involved a day when people stopped dying.  It was a wonderfully high concept idea.

Writers, when your editor and agent talk about a high concept idea, this is what they're talking about.  An idea that can be distilled to one line.  Miracle Day is about what happens when people on Earth stop dying.  You can imagine the implications.  Easily understand it.

My problem with the show was that I spent ten weeks following this.  I expected to find out who caused the miracle and why.  If you don't want to know anything about it, stop reading now. I won't spoil any specific plot points, but be warned.

Last night the show concluded and we learned HOW the miracle came to pass, but the WHO was left vague.  There was even a scene when one of the characters tried to explain what was happening and another looked at him and said, "You have no idea what this is, do you?"  And they left it at that.

Was it alien?  Was it terrestrial?  Who know?  And they're never going to tell us.

As an audience member, I was left feeling ridiculously unsatisfied.  As a writer, I was embarrassed.

Now, I'm not saying that a story can't have a central conceit that goes unexplained.  Hell, I did it in my own book.  I asked the readers to accept that in my world, every person got a letter warning them 24 hours before their death.  But I never made the book about trying to find and stop the letters.  My book was about the implications of getting such a letter.  In early draft, my characters did try to find the source of the letters.  My agent and editor wisely helped me realize that no answer I gave would ever be satisfactory.

If Miracle Day had been about the world once people stopped dying, and focused only on that, the why or the who wouldn't have necessarily mattered.  But that wasn't the case.  This show was set up as a mystery. THING A happened.  By the end of the series, we were promised that THING A would have an explanation.  That promise was never fulfilled.  Not only is that sloppy, but it's irresponsible.