On cheap wine and editor taste

What’s it like to get a bunch of wine snobs together with a bunch of cheapskates when it just so happens they’re the same people?

That’s what yesterday evening was like for me.

I love good wine, and I love a good bargain. Those two things sometimes coexist at the Grocery Outlet (a surplus retailer with 130 stores in 6 western states offering discounted prices on everything from toothbrushes to lobster tails).

The wine section at the Grocery Outlet is a bit like going to Vegas. Sometimes you toss in a few coins and come out with a lovely little gem of Italian Sangiovese with just the right notes of strawberry and oak.

Other times you check the label to see if you accidentally purchased oven cleaner.

The gamble is worth it, since most wines are under $10, with plenty of bargains to be found in the $2.99-$3.99 range.

A few times a year, they offer 20% off all their wines. Cheapskate wine snobs look forward to these events because if we can just figure out which wines are the real gems, we can buy entire cases for pennies on the dollar.

This was the thought behind a dinner party at a friend’s house last night. Seven of us gathered with nine bottles of recently purchased Grocery Outlet wine and a plan to find the best ones in the bunch.

We intended to determine the best bargains and race back at 7 a.m. the next morning to fight the other cheapskate wine snobs for the good stuff.

But here’s the funny thing – none of us agreed on which wine was “the good stuff.”

I was fond of the 2008 Unsung Heroes Petite Verdot from South Australia. My friend Larie fell hard for a quirky little white blend from California with a ghetto label. Pythagoras – who isn’t generally a wine fan – loved an Italian Pinot Grigio that didn’t have a word of English printed on the bottle.

And while the two Spanish reds I expected to adore fell flat in my opinion, they drew great praise from several members of the group.
It reminds me of an analogy someone shared when I first started submitting my writing to editors and agents.

“Don’t think of it as the editor rejecting you because it’s bad,” she urged. “Think of it more like you’re around a big dinner table with a bunch of editors, and the one next to you passes on your green bean casserole because she doesn’t particularly care for green beans, but the editor at the other end of the table happens to love them.”

It put things into perspective for me. Yes, there are always things we can do to grow and improve as writers, but rejection doesn’t always mean you suck. Sometimes, it just means you offered the editor a spicy Shiraz when she happened to want a citrusy Sauvignon Blanc.

We all have different tastes – even editors and agents. This is a subjective business. The trick is to keep that in mind, and remember that somewhere out there is the person who will love every last drop of whatever you’re pouring.

On that note, I must go practice my kung-fu moves. If the other cheapskate wine snobs think they’re getting their hands on that Petit Verdot, they’ve got another think coming.

The downside of dream agents

It’s been two weeks since my post on query stats, and I’m still stunned by the hits it keeps getting. If I’d known you were so fascinated by my rejections, I would have blogged about the cute guy in seventh grade who laughed and said I looked like a boy.

My favorite thing about the query post is the discussion in the comments. I want to elaborate on something I wrote there, and also to tell you why you should ignore me.

Here’s my original comment:

If I were going to query agents again, I'd divide them into groups: 1) the dream agents, 2) the ones you'd still be delighted to work with, and 3) the ones you're a bit ambivalent about. Then add a fourth group, which would be one or two you really aren't interested in at all. Query that fourth group first just to test the waters. If you get a lot of "send it now!" responses, you might have something hot on your hands and should probably go right ahead and query group 2 and maybe even 1. If responses are lukewarm or negative, start working through your list from 3 to 2 to 1. By the time you hit group 1, you've refined your process and won't risk making an ass of yourself in front of the very agents you adore most. I should also add that you should NEVER query before you're ready. Polish and research and do the very best you can, but understand that you're still going to miss a few things on that first round of querying.

While I stand by what I wrote, I want to add a caveat – you may not know who your dream agent is yet.

Most authors invest a lot of time in deciding which agents to query. You gather names from Agent Query. You pore over discussion forums at Absolute Write. You read blogs. You stalk agents in the grocery store to see if you have the same taste in cereal.

Even then, you’ll only have half the story. Here’s why:

Discussion forums about agents draw a limited range of participants.
The Bewares, Recommendations & Background Check forum at Absolute Write is a great way to learn what people are saying about agents on your query list, but you’re only hearing a few perspectives. Authors who’ve left agents under unhappy circumstances seldom share those details publicly, as they gain nothing from doing so. Likewise, authors in happy marriages with agents don't always report back to those forums to gush.

Hearing from authors in the midst of the querying process can give you a feel for agent response times and rumors circulating in writing communities. But remember you’re not always getting a complete picture of what it’s like to work with that agent.

What gets me hot may not get you hot.
In my opinion, Pythagoras is the dreamiest thing since the ’07 Sunnyside Pinot Noir from Amity Vineyards, but I realize he’s not every woman’s ideal. Good thing, or I’d be in a lot more fistfights.

It’s the same with agents. Agent Rachelle Gardner had a great recent blog post in which she asked authors to share the most important things in agent/author relationships. Though plenty of us swooned over our agents, we didn’t agree on what made them spectacular. Some listed communication as the most crucial thing, while others judged by industry connections or editing abilities. We all have different preferences, and what makes an agent amazing in my eyes may not be the same thing you’re looking for.

Fixating on one agent closes your eyes to other great prospects
There are plenty of terrific agents with high profile blogs, hysterical Twitter feeds, and great word-of-mouth in writing communities. Just remember they’re not the only cats in the sandbox. When I queried agents, I made sure my list included a good mix of those whose every online word I’d devoured, and those whose names I couldn’t have picked off wanted poster at the police station.

I’ll be honest – I didn’t know a ton about Michelle Wolfson when I first queried her. What little I’d read was positive, but it wasn’t until later in the process that I discovered what a great catch she was.

In my opinion, an agent with a great passion for your writing and a shorter sales record is a hotter commodity than the one with a million sales and only a tepid interest in your book. You may be surprised to discover your perfect match is an agent you’ve never heard of before.

What are your thoughts? If you’re currently unagented, do you have a dream agent? Are you open to other possibilities? For those who have agents already, did you end up with the agent you thought you’d have? Please share in the comments.

I’m going to go find that cute seventh grade guy on Facebook to see if he still thinks I look like a boy.

One person's pleasure is another person's crotch pain

Pythagoras is shopping for a new bike seat.

Apparently, his nose is pressing uncomfortably against his man nuggets (I’ll pause for a moment while you laugh as hard as I did at the fact that “nose” is the technical term for the front of a bike seat. Done? Let’s continue).

For those who don’t know, my husband is a fitness junkie. A competitive cyclist who recently branched into triathlons, his idea of “a quick bike ride” is 90 miles up the side of a mountain.

The seat on his tri-bike looks a bit like a medieval torture device. This is the one he currently trains on:

Looks painful, no?

So when he said he wanted a more comfortable one, I was picturing the banana seat from the Schwinn I had as a kid.

When he showed me the new seat he has in mind, I choked on my wine.

“That’s your idea of comfortable?” I demanded.

“It’ll shift the pressure to my sit-bones in the aero position,” he explained. “A lot of urologists recommend this type of saddle.”

“Didn’t they use something like that to torture Mel Gibson in Braveheart?”

He ignored me and went back to his online search for bike seats (or “saddles” as I’ve been told I should call them).

Obviously, the nomenclature of cycling isn’t the only thing I fail to grasp. I honestly don’t get how any of those seats can be deemed “comfortable,” but I suppose it’s all in the eye of the nut holder.

I’ve seen the way Pythagoras looks at me after I’ve spent twelve straight hours at my computer performing a complex ritual of blogging, tweeting, and writing several chapters of a manuscript.

“I’d kill myself if I had to do your job,” he told me once.

Hey, at least I don’t have a nose in my crotch, but I do see his point. What seems like torture to one person is another person’s idea of fun.

Do you have people in your life who see your pursuit of writing as the equivalent of sticking bamboo up your nostrils and soaking your face in grapefruit juice? Is there anyone close to you who enjoys something you cringe just watching? Please share in the comments.

I have to go confirm with my husband’s doctor that his new bike seat won’t render him useless to me.

Sometimes, love just ain't enough

Last week, I invited readers to ask questions.

I answered most in the comments, but one caught my eye from blog reader Alexa. She asked:

If you believe in your book, but you've gotten a lot of rejections, at what point do you say, "It's not them, it's me" and revise or scrap the manuscript?

I told her I needed to mull it over, and that’s what I’ve been doing. Mulling. Did you know mulling involves copious amounts of Sauvignon Blanc?

After a full week of careful contemplation, here’s my answer:

It depends.

Don’t you hate that? And don’t you hate that I feel compelled to constantly remind you “every author’s journey is different, and you can’t judge yourself by someone else’s experience.”

Now that we got that out of the way, I’ll tell you my experience. And I’ll tell you the two things that can help you figure out the answer to that question for yourself.

In the last eight years, I’ve written nine full manuscripts and six partials. With every single one, I believed I had a shot at publication.

But the first thing that helps me determine if I’m right or I’m delusional is perspective – that is, input from people who are not emotionally tied to the story.

I get that from my two critique partners (writers themselves) and three beta readers (masters at spotting “issues”).

When I finished writing MAKING WAVES two years ago, I thought it was pretty solid. Then I handed it off to those guys.

They trashed it.

I thought my heroine was quirky. They thought she was immature and weird.

When I reread it, I had to admit they had a point. I revised the hell out of the story, adding scenes, tweaking descriptions, and working to make the heroine more sympathetic. The book eventually sold as part of my three-book deal with Sourcebooks, and it’s scheduled as my debut next August.

But that’s only half the story

Because recently, I opened MAKING WAVES for the first time in over a year. It’s due on my editor’s desk soon, and I wanted to do some final polishing.

And that’s when I got the second thing on my list – perspective. (For a writer, I suck at coming up with new words.)

But now I’m talking about the perspective you get when you take a break from your own work. When you set it aside, ignore it for awhile, and write a new manuscript or two.

This time around, I realized I hadn’t gone far enough rehabbing my heroine. Despite my critique partners’ feedback that first time, deep down I thought, “they just don’t get her.”

But with two years of distance between my brain and the original writing, I was able to separate myself from what I meant to write and what I actually wrote. I made new tweaks, added 5,000 words to the story, and am preparing to send it to my editor.

I’m sure she’ll have changes of her own. It’s possible she’ll insist my heroine would be more compelling with a third arm (in which case I will politely ask if she prefers it to protrude from her forehead or her stomach).

Does that answer your question? Not totally, right? Because it comes from the obnoxious, happily-ever-after perspective of an author who sold the novel.

So let me confess something:

While I adore MAKING WAVES with every fiber of my being, and I’m thrilled it’s being published, it’s not my favorite book I’ve written.

That honor belongs to a book I wrote in 2006 – the one that originally snagged offers of representation from four agents. Two of those agents shopped it to editors, and maybe a dozen of those editors professed to love it.

But the book never sold.

Was it me? Was it them? Was it aliens?

I honestly don’t know.

I still believe in that book. So does my brilliant and talented agent, Michelle Wolfson.

But we’ve both come to accept that the time isn't right for it.

You can work hard to get the perspective of others and the perspective of distance. That’s a crucial part of figuring out if your manuscript has problems.

But sadly, that’s not always enough.

And as gut-wrenching as it is, a smart writer learns how to move on, write something new, and set the beloved project on the back burner with the heat on low.

Have I depressed you all now? I feel like I should tell a penis joke to lighten the mood. Anyone know a good one?

On talent, success, & bra throwing

Wednesday night, we saw Colin Hay in concert.

You may recall he was the front-man for ‘80s band Men at Work. They won a Grammy in 1983 for best new artist and had a few chart-topping hits including “Down Under.”

Now, Colin Hay plays solo acoustic shows in small towns where many audience members would be hard pressed to name any of his solo tunes.

The second he took the stage, I was dumbstruck. He’s one of the most talented performers I’ve ever seen – and I’m a concert whore, so I don’t say this lightly. His voice was breathtaking, his guitar playing flawless, his showmanship hysterically entertaining. If I hadn’t been reluctant to part with my favorite bra, I might’ve thrown it.

Colin Hay on Wednesday night.

From his jokes, it’s clear he’s aware of the irony in going from sold-out stadium shows to a tiny stage in Central Oregon.

But though his position on the charts has changed, his talent hasn’t. Regardless of how many tickets he sells, he’s an amazing musician.

I can’t help but see a tie to writing. Deep down, don’t we all hope for superstardom? Don’t we all want our books to sell at auction for ridiculous figures, to ascend the bestseller lists and have Oprah and Letterman bitch-slapping each other over the first interview?

But the reality is that it happens for very few artists – musicians or writers. For every performer like Sting or Bono or Steven Tyler whose superstar status spans 30 or 40 years, there are guys like Colin Hay. No less talented, but with careers that have gone a decidedly different direction.

Part of me wants to feel sad about this.

Part of me says Are you kidding? A talented artist making a living doing what he loves? What’s sad about that?

I’ll admit I wouldn’t mind seeing my name on a bestseller list someday. Though I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen, I have very little control. I can work hard and hone my talent, but the odds are slim I’ll ever be driven to book signings in a limousine with throngs of fans beating on the windows and throwing Pop Tarts.

I’m OK with that.

Because talent and success can’t be measured by book sales or the number of concert seats filled. I know that for every blockbuster book atop the lists, there are dozens more that are every bit as good – maybe better – that just don’t have the magic marketing formula to fly off the shelves.

It’s enough for me to know I’m damn lucky. I’m getting to do what I love – to slap words on a page and make a few people smile, to even make a little money doing it.

Though my dreams of grandeur might entertain me, it’s the lure of just doing what I love that keeps me going.

That, and the fantasy of giving Oprah a wedgie if I ever make it on her show.

How about you? If you never write a runaway bestseller, are you OK with that? Is it enough just to know you’re a writer, that you’re talented enough to create a book in the first place?

I’ll leave you with this song from Colin Hay. If you like it, go buy it on iTunes. Do it now.

A ski racer, a singer, and an author walk into a bar

I write humorous fiction, so generally speaking, I try not to get too serious on this blog.

But occasionally I’ll have a point I want to make, so I’ll warn you that today’s entry may not make you laugh (unless I decide to insert the word “scrotum” at random intervals, which come to think of it, would be funny).

Pythagoras has been involved in ski racing since he was a wee tot, so he loves the Olympics. Yesterday was the women’s downhill, and as many expected, American Lindsey Vonn won gold.

While Pythagoras is thrilled, he noted that several of Vonn’s competitors routinely beat her on the World Cup circuit. There’s no question Vonn is incredibly talented (scrotum), but that doesn’t mean the German racer who finished eighth yesterday won’t kick her butt again next week.

To the outside world, ski racing seems simple – if you’re the fastest, you win. Period. The clock doesn’t lie.

But there are other factors to consider. Yesterday, Vonn chose to race on men’s skis, and as it turned out, the terrain on the course was rough – perfect conditions for that equipment. (scrotum) But had she chosen different skis or a different wax, or had a competitor not gotten behind on a turn, things could have ended differently.

It wouldn’t have been a reflection of Vonn’s talent either way – just the circumstances. Though winning proves Vonn is indeed a tremendous athlete, not winning doesn’t mean the others aren’t every bit as good.

Here’s another example: a friend of mine loves American Idol, so sometimes I watch if there’s wine involved. Last night, the judges whittled the field from 50 to 24, and the blogosphere is abuzz with speculation that so-and-so didn’t make it because the producers limit the number of singers with a certain hair color, skin color, or vocal style.

While there’s no doubt the final 24 contestants will make many singing missteps along the way (scrotum), the decisions at this stage aren’t just about who’s the best singer. With a room full of similarly-talented singers to choose from, the judges are most certainly considering factors that have nothing to do with vocal skill.

What does this have to do with writing? I’m getting there. (scrotum)

Over the years, I’ve critiqued work for a number of unpublished writers. Sometimes I’ve found myself thinking, “she’s so good, why isn’t she published yet?” Likewise, I’ve seen plenty of authors beat themselves up over rejections from agents or editors or critique partners. “If I were better,” they tell themselves, “I’d be published by now.”

But it doesn’t always work that way. While it’s true that authors who achieve publication tend to be talented, that doesn’t mean the ones who aren’t there yet aren’t every bit as talented. Someone else’s success doesn’t diminish your talent.

This is something I have to remind myself as well. A few years ago, I sold my first book to Silhouette Bombshell and had already cashed the check and written two follow-up books when the line was cancelled. None of my books hit the shelves. Convinced I needed an agent, I wrote a new book and began querying. Four amazing agents offered representation, one of whom described my book as “an easy sale.”

But guess what? The book didn’t sell. And none of the feedback from editors said the writing wasn’t good enough. In one case, we were told the publishing house already had something too similar. In another case, the editor just didn’t like the subject.

I’m not making excuses here (scrotum). Believe me, there’s room for improvement in my writing, and I work hard at that every day. But I also know that if a writer doesn’t get published quickly, it’s not necessarily because he or she isn’t talented. Surely I must have some talent to secure a previous book deal and the interest of multiple agents, but for whatever reason, I’m not published. Yet.

Luckily, I now have the most amazing agent on the planet, Michelle Wolfson, who remains confident we’re almost there. I believe it too, so I try not to take rejections personally.

I thought of this last night as I watched a sobbing American Idol hopeful receive his rejection news. “You did nothing wrong,” the judges insisted. And he really hadn’t. But they still picked 12 other male vocalists over him. Yes, the others were talented, but their selection doesn’t mean the other guy is less talented.

The most important thing an author can have isn’t talent or a good agent. It’s perseverance. It’s the ability to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and say “just because someone else won this time doesn’t mean I won’t win next time.”

Scrotum.

The fine art of funny

Um, so I was kinda kidding in Monday’s blog post when I mentioned penis jokes. But apparently my humor missed the mark (or more likely, people who read my blog are perverts) because I’ve had several emails from people wanting to know when I’m going to get to the penis jokes.

Fine, Grandma – I”ll tell one in just a minute, OK?

First, I want to talk a bit about humor.

Since I write humorous fiction, a good portion of my writing time is devoted to trying to be funny. Sometimes it comes naturally, and sometimes . . . well, not so much. Other times I’m funny when I don’t mean to be.

This actually ties to my point yesterday about everything being subjective.

I work with an amazing group of women who serve as critique partners and beta readers for me. My critique partners, Linda Brundage and Cynthia Reese are both PHENOMENAL writers with whom I swap ideas, critiques, and general bitching. My three beta readers are all book nuts with eagle eyes and strong opinions they’re not afraid to share with me. To say I couldn’t do this without all of them would be a disgusting understatement.

Recently, all five women critiqued my newest manuscript, BELIEVE IT OR NOT. They all did a bang-up job catching plot holes and typos, but on top of all that, they were all more diligent than usual about flagging scenes that were funny.

As one of my beta readers put it, “I thought it might be helpful for you to see what made me laugh so you’d know if there were any long stretches without humor.”

I thought it was a terrific idea, and Lord knows I love to know what makes people chuckle.

But here’s the funny part – they were all amused by different things. One beta reader had a clear fondness for any jokes that were alcohol-inspired. One critique partner loved all the deadpan humor, while the other seemed to gravitate toward the more goofy stuff. Still another reader kept laughing at things I hadn’t realized were funny. The third beta reader – pervert that she is – giggled like a fiend over all the raunchy stuff.

It was a terrific reminder for me that not everyone has the same sense of humor, but if I do my job right, I can make sure there’s something in my books to tickle everyone’s funny bone.

OK, OK . . . keep your pants on, Grandma. Here’s your penis joke:

An old man and an old woman are sitting together at their nursing home.

“Bet I can tell how old you are,” says the old woman.

“No way,” says the old man.

“Sure,” she replies. “Pull down your pants.”

Intrigued, the old man complies. The woman studies him thoughtfully for a moment.

“You’re 89 years old,” she reports.

“Wow, how did you do that?” he asks, buttoning up his pants.

“You told me yesterday.”

My drinking club has a book problem

For more than a decade now, I’ve been a member of a book club.

OK, if you want to split hairs, it’s probably more of a wine club that loves to read. Nevertheless, we’ve been together an awfully long time, sharing our mutual fondness for reading, eating, and drinking (not always in that order).

We get together once a month and read selections ranging from classic literature to bestsellers to poetry to smut. We’re proudly devouring an Emma Holly erotica title for Valentine’s month, which will be followed in March by Kathryn Stockett’s critically acclaimed novel THE HELP.

Eclectic tastes, to say the least.

Over the years, we’ve eaten a lot of great food, consumed oceans of wine, and have watched our membership fluctuate between six and 20+. There’s a 25-year age difference between our eldest member and our youngest, and our group includes women with wildly different lifestyles, political views, and beverage preferences.

It goes without saying that we often have vastly different perspectives on the books we read. That’s the whole point, really.

Last August, we read Tiffanie DeBartolo’s HOW TO KILL A ROCK STAR, an amazing novel released in 2005 from Sourcebooks. If you haven’t read it, go buy it right now.

Our discussion became heated when one member dared to suggest she didn’t particularly care for the narrator. In a room full of readers who had developed a sisterly love for this character over the course of 352 pages, this was akin to calling the sister a skank. I had to remove the wine bottles from the table in case a fight broke out.

For the most part though, it was a fun discussion, and a good reminder of one of the key mantras of the publishing industry:

It’s all subjective.

What one reader, editor, or agent hates, another may fall in love with. We all want to believe there’s a magic bullet in publishing – a “right way” or a “wrong way” to read a book or to write one. Believe me, I’ve seen plenty of feedback from editors and it never ceases to amaze me how varied it can be. These are smart, accomplished, professional editors with extensive careers in publishing. They certainly don’t all agree on what makes a good book or a bad one. Why should we?

So I’ve learned not to take it personally when an editor rejects my masterpiece, or a book club member hates a book I picked, or when my brilliant and talented agent sends me back to the drawing board to rewrite the marketing hooks I was so certain were perfect.

Just don’t question my taste in wine, OK? Thems fightin’ words.