Editing as a form of Revisiting

I have been participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this April, pledging 60 hours to editing a book (which turns out to be all five) by the end of the month. I can only edit as much as my writing knowledge and my fallibility let me, and my husband and co-pilot looks at them afterward (more slowly than I do). I MAY HAVE TO PAY SOMEONE TO EDIT.

The fun part, though, is that I get to revisit some of my favorite people — the thoroughly modern psychologist Lilith (yes, that Lilith) and her consort, the fey Adam (yes, that Adam); Lilith’s father Luke, a 6000-year-old supporter of humanity and suspected Serpent in the Garden; Adam and Lilith’s daughter Angel, the iconoclastic creator of immortal cats; the practical botanist Jeanne and her younger and mystical lover Josh and their relationship with Gaia; Amarel, who was born on the point between human and Archetype, old and young, and male and female.

If you’ve read the previous paragraph, you will catch some of the issues that may prevent me from getting published — subverting the Garden of Eden to find a different message; a young transgender individual (who will fall in love); an exploration of No One True Religion; an older plump woman in a relationship with a much younger man.

Other issues stay hidden: a battle plan without bloodshed; corporate plots to bury opposition; liberals that act in opposition to their morals; no vampires, werewolves, or over-the-top sex scenes.

I worry that this isn’t “marketable”, because it’s not urban fantasy, romance, or sword and sorcery. It’s not what the Sad/Rabid/Dead Puppies want to see. I write about the Peaceable Kingdom and our failures in getting there. If you know of someone who will publish this (not self-publishing yet) let me know.

In praise of being ordinary

Yesterday I showed my students a Ted Talk by Brene Brown, a psychologist. She spoke about invulnerability as a major deterrent to well-being in the US. The major factor she cited as the root of invulnerability in the US was the need to be extraordinary.

Think about it: writers not only want to be published, they want to be on the NY Times Bestsellers’ list. That list has only so much room on it, and by its nature it does not mark the best books, but the best sellers. How many hurdles does an author need to jump to get on this list? An agent has to read an excerpt of the book and declarable it marketable. “Marketable” has less to do with its quality than it does how well the book will sell. Then the agent shops the book to potential publishers, who evaluate the book in terms of — yes, marketability. Not that the agent or publisher will ignore quality, but the final criteria is marketability.

I understand this — my book may be the result of blood and sweat and fantasy, but to the publishing industry, my book is a potential moneymaker. As there are a limited number of publishers in the fiction market, the best strategy is conservative — that is, choosing books similar to those that have already sold.

I have had to give up my need to be extraordinary to have the courage to write at all. I would love to be published, but I also know I write on beloved topics that don’t sell well in the mainstream — a pacifist ecocollective, the tension of living with diversity, alternate religious myths, Reason as a deity in the pantheon of human deities, and more. An all-too-human utopia that has become Brigadoon because of its secrets.

I would like to be published, but I know I will struggle. I know I will get more letters that say “… but it’s not what we’re looking for at this time.” And I will relax in my status as ordinary and write some more.

Calling all Creatives

To any reader who considers themselves creative:

1) Describe the moment that you first considered yourself creative.

2) Describe how others reacted to you at that moment.

My story — I could give any number of anecdotes for the first question, but I will pick the moment I wrote my first poems in third grade. My third grade teacher taught us poetry forms, including diamante, sonnet, and haiku; I enjoyed building words into new structures and quickly took to the tasks.

My third grade teacher, I suspect, thought me her prodigy and posted one of my poems on her classroom door. Some classmates and many teachers stopped me in the hallway to tell me it was a nice poem. My sister, ten months older, was livid. My parents hardly acknowledged my accomplishment because they worked hard to keep my sister from low self-esteem.

(Edited for ambiguous pronouns and nouns in the last paragraph, like a good writer 😉 )