Thank you everyone for your very kind comments and email messages of encouragement. They really are lovely to read, and a true lift to my spirits! The sun is shining today, and I think we have weathered our little storm of homesickness for the most part. The children are happier, at least, and that in turn makes me happy.
I've been following a discussion on
Dear Author about the relationship between the reader and the author, and whether authors should comment on or thank reviewers, what reviewers owe authors if anything, and so forth. In the comment thread it's all got a bit hostile, which is par for the course I find when there are 100+ comments, but the whole debate has really got me thinking, and opened my eyes in some ways.
Until recently I had no idea that thanking a reviewer for a review was undesirable. I cottoned on, thankfully, and I don't do it anymore, but I suppose I wish I could. I did it to begin with out of politeness, even if the review was bad or even atrocious, simply because I am thankful that someone took the time to not only read my book, but to offer her opinion on it. Honestly, I think for most authors, that's it. We're not trying to turn reviews into some kind of commodity.
But after thinking about it for awhile, I realized that I have thanked reviewers because really, I would love to get into a discussion about one of my books, NOT to explain to the poor, stupid reader how she didn't get it but so should have, but to have an honest, lively debate. I had a terrific email exchange with someone who HATED my book. Hated it so much, in fact, she wrote Mills & Boon and asked them to make me stop writing. I am not kidding. But you know what? I addressed the problematic parts of the book for her, and we emailed back and forth, exchanging ideas about why she'd hated the book so much, and in the end we came to an agreement of sorts and she went back and finished it. I didn't enter into the email exchange to convince her my point of view was right, or she shouldn't have hated my book. I simply wanted to tell her where I was coming from in writing it, and she told me where she was coming from while reading. Really, it's been a highlight of my experience with readers, and she still doesn't like the book. Totally fine.
I think part of the problem with interaction between readers and writers is they do not come to a discussion as equals. And it might be that the perceived inequality is only in people's minds, but as long as someone feels it's there, it might as well be. To have a proper (and by that I mean respectful, interesting, and engaging discussion) you need to come to it accepting and believing that everyone has a right to express her opinion, and the reader's perception of the book is as valid as the writer's intent. It's not a session to convince someone of your rightness; it's a discussion of different views. Of course, it helps if you come into that kind of discussion with an open mind, willing to change your opinion--on both sides, readers and writers.
Anyway. That's a lot of my rather flabby thoughts. I'm procrastinating, clearly! But as a reader I love having those discussions with authors. Love, love, love it. And I'd love it as an author too. Tear my book apart! Tear it to shreds if you like, only do it respectfully, allow me a chance to respond, and be willing to engage in a two-way conversation. (And I'm not meaning to imply that this needs to happen in a review setting, which is a different thing altogether.)
Labels: readers, reviews, writing life
posted by Kate Hewitt at
Hello again! I've been reading about various changes in the publishing world, from big-name authors deciding to self-publish to big-name publishing houses deciding to offer self-publishing services... it's all a bit alarming as well as exciting, and I thought I'd try a little experiment of my own. I've written a serial, Out in the Country, for the wonderful magazine The People's Friend, and as it has already been published and the rights have reverted to me, I thought I'd offer it to my readers... free! Since a little anticipation can be a good thing, I thought I'd run it the way serials normally run, which is one installment or chapter a week. The serial is only 8 installments, so this isn't too long-term a thing. Anyway, here is the deal: if you'd like to receive the serial installment, just send me your email at katehewitt@kate-hewitt.com with 'serial' in the subject line. I'll send you an installment (and nothing else, don't worry) once a week for eight weeks. Simple, right? And to whet your appetite, here is the first scene of the first installment:
Lynne Marshall looked around her dining room table and smiled. Outside she heard the muted roar of New York City’s constant traffic, but here in her apartment there were more comforting sounds: her daughter Molly’s trill of excited laughter, the warm murmur of her in-laws’ conversation, followed by her friend Sarah’s answering chuckle.
Of course, there were missing sounds from this table. Her husband Adam’s rich baritone voice, gently teasing their only daughter while his eyes held hers, had been absent for a year and a half. Yet the consuming ache of that sudden loss had lessened with time, and now Lynne silently counted her blessings, even as she felt the first fizz of anticipation for the future.
“Lynne?” Sarah broke into her thoughts, her eyebrows raised. “I was just asking you if you’ve been to Molly’s school?”
“I’ve seen the outside,” Lynne replied, “but I wasn’t able to go in--the city’s schools are so careful about security these days.”
“As well as they should be,” Kathy, her mother-in-law, chimed in. “What with all the school crime there has been...” She turned to Molly. “Are you nervous, sweetie? At least the security’s for your protection.”
“Not a bit,” Molly replied firmly. Her eyes glinted with fierce pride, and determination and excitement radiated from her. It was, Lynne thought affectionately, almost catching. Molly had been studying for the last five years for tomorrow, the day when she’d finally begin teaching, and according to her, transforming New York City’s schools, student by student. “Remember, Granny,” Molly continued, “I grew up right here in the city. I went to a public high school--”
“Yes, but you went to one with selective admission!” Sarah interjected with a smile. “You’ll find a high school with less rigorous standards a bit different.”
“Exactly why I applied for the position at Cooper High School,” Molly replied. “I want to reach the kids who aren’t being reached--not the ones that are happy to be there.”
“That’s our girl,” Graham,Lynne’s father-in-law, said with a chuckle. “You remind me so much of Adam. Always determined to make a difference.”
There was a moment of quiet as they all remembered Adam, silently acknowledged his absence. Then Kathy turned to Lynne.
“And we need to celebrate your new start! Are you terribly excited, Lynne?”
Again Lynne felt that fizz of anticipation as she thought about her own new beginning. “I’ve been so busy arranging travel plans, I haven’t had time to think of it properly,” she admitted. “But I am starting to feel excited--Jess has been giving me the updates by phone and e-mail.”
“I can’t believe you’re really going,” Sarah said, and Lynne wondered if she was imagining the wistful note in her friend’s voice. Sarah had been her best friend in the city for fifteen years, but Jess had been her friend forever... or least since they both were six.
“I can’t believe I am, either,” she said, keeping her voice light. “It’s all happened so quickly!”
Just two months ago Jessica had rung her with her plans to open a country hotel in Perthshire. It had been a long standing ambition, although Lynne had always though it as more of a daydream they’d both indulged in over the years more than anything else. Jess had a successful career as an editor for a culinary magazine in Edinburgh, and Lynne had been busy with her life in New York. She’d never thought her friend would throw it all in for a risky business venture.
“Rob’s got it all planned,” Jess had informed her, all bright, breezy optimism. “He has an investor--Guy somebody--who’s really keen. Hotels with sports amenities are all the rage now, you know--”
“What do you know about sports, Jess?” Lynne asked dubiously, and Jess had just laughed.
“Absolutely nothing, of course! That’s Rob’s specialty. I’ll take care of the kitchen, and we just need someone to front the house... add the homey touch.” She’d paused meaningfully, yet it had still taken a full minute for the penny to drop.
“Me?” Lynne asked, her voice rising to a squeak, and Jess laughed again.
“Yes, you! Just think of it, Lynne. We’d have such a grand time together, and this is something we’ve talked about doing--”
“Talked about,” Lynne agreed, “but I never thought...” She trailed off, remembering the dream they’d once had of opening a hotel together. “We were little more than school girls,” she protested, even as she felt herself imagining it, picturing colour schemes, flower arrangements, special weekend offers... “It’s ridiculous!”
“Maybe so, but I feel like being ridiculous,” Jess answered with determined recklessness. “I’m forty-six years old, and I’ve played safe my whole life. I want to do something, even if it’s risky... even if it’s ridiculous!” She paused to let this sink in before adding, her voice turning serious and somehow knowing, “Don’t you?”
Did she? Lynne didn’t answer, the phone still pressed to her ear, as she considered the question. For twenty years she’d been Adam’s wife, maintaining his home, helping his career as one of the city’s most prominent architects, living in his shadow. She didn’t regret a single minute of it, yet now the possibility of doing--being--something different held a new and surprising appeal. “Maybe...” she allowed, and she could almost picture Jess smiling, carried along by her own enthusiasm.
“It’ll be fantastic, Lynne. Just what both of us need. Rob’s got it all sorted...”
Rob, Lynne knew, was Jessica’s fiancé. They were planning to marry at Christmastime. Lynne had never met him; she hadn’t actually seen Jess in several years. Yet time nor distance mattered when they’d plaited each other’s hair--and tugged hard on those plaits--in primary school back in Scotland.
In the end, the decision had been surprisingly easy to make. She’d hung up the phone and gazed around at her spacious, airy, empty apartment, and realised suddenly how little she had holding her in New York City. Of course, there was Molly, determined to transform the city’s schools, but Lynne knew her daughter would be busy with her own life--and perhaps needed her own space.
There wasn’t much else to keep her rattling around in this apartment, wondering what to do next.
“And the hotel is up and running?” Kathy asked, drawing Lynne back to the present and the circle of smiling faces around her table. She shook her head.
“Not yet. The financing is in place, the property has been found, but I’ll be coming over in the preliminary stages, to help decorate and organise, that sort of thing.”
“Well, we know you’re good at that!” Graham chimed in jovially, and Lynne acknowledged his remark with a smile.
“I’m sorry Jason couldn’t be here,” she said to Molly. Her daughter had been dating the same boy from university for three years, and he was now finishing his graduate degree in New Hampshire. “I’m sure he’ll want to hear all about your first day tomorrow.”
“He promised to call me in the evening.” Molly’s face was flushed with excitement, although Lynne saw her nibble her lower lip, a nervous habit from childhood that she’d never been quite able to break.
“I’m sure you’ll have plenty to tell him,” Sarah said. “How many students are in your classes?”
“Thirty-two,” Molly admitted with a tiny grimace. “They’re short staffed, and they have the maximum in every class.”
Sarah nodded, and Lynne wondered--not for the first time--just what her daughter was signing on for, teaching in one of the city’s most challenging schools. She’d given up trying to dissuade Molly from taking such a difficult first teaching post long ago; she knew if Adam had been here, he would have encouraged her to take the most chaotic classroom in the city and work her magic on it, as he’d done with his own life’s work of transforming some of the city’s most unappealing buildings into both fascinating and functional places to live and work.
“Anyway,” Molly said, “Jason’s coming to visit in two weeks. By that time I should be settled at Cooper.”
“Are you going to look for an apartment?” Sarah asked. “I suppose you’ll have to share...”
“Actually,” Lynne broke in, “Molly’s staying right here, and looking after things for me while I’m gone. That way I don’t have to sublet.”
“That makes sense,” Sarah said after a moment, and Lynne rose from the table.
“I think it’s time for cake,” she said brightly. “Sarah, pour us all another glass of champagne, and I’ll get the plates.”
She bustled into the kitchen, and after a moment she felt rather than saw Sarah standing in the doorway, and turned.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes, fine. We’re just waiting for you to come in so we can have a toast.”
“Lovely--”
“I’m going to miss you,” Sarah said abruptly. She turned away and busied herself with taking forks from a drawer. ‘This is all so sudden, isn’t it?”
“And not forever,” Lynne reminded her gently. “I’ve only signed on for a year, Sarah. I’ll be back in the city before you know it.”
Sarah’s bright blue eyes met Lynne’s with a directness that she wasn’t sure she liked. “Lynne,” Sarah asked, “are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Lynne couldn’t help but feel slightly stung. Sarah was ten years older than her, and often acted like a mentor, but she didn’t need this kind of advice now. “Yes, I do. I want a change, Sarah. I need one.” She paused, drawing a breath. “Ever since Adam died, I feel like I’ve been waiting. Waiting for the next thing, except I don’t even know what that is.”
“I’m sure that’s a natural way to feel,” Sarah replied. “It doesn’t mean you have to go haring off to--”
“Haring off, as you put it, is exactly what I feel like doing,” Lynne cut her off, smiling, although there was a certain determination sparking in her eyes. “Now, Sarah, you’re one of my best friends. I don’t know want to say goodbye to you under a cloud.”
Sarah’s face softened and she gave Lynne a quick hug. “No clouds, promise. I’m just going to miss you, is all.”
“I know.” Lynne returned the hug before gathering up a stack of plates. “I’ll miss you too.”
Back in the dining room Kathy and Graham still sat at the table, but Molly had risen and was standing in front of the window, the city lights from outside washing her in a pale, luminous silver. Lynne saw her daughter’s gaze rest briefly on the framed photograph of Adam before she spun away with a cheerful laugh.
“Champagne and cake! Shall we have a toast?”
“Absolutely.” Lynne raised her own glass, still fizzing with bubbles. “To Molly, as you start teaching at Cooper High School, that you’ll transform not just one student, but a whole classroom!”
“Hear, hear,” Sarah said, and raised her glass to take a sip. Kathy and Graham followed suit.
“And to Mum,” Molly added quickly, “and your adventure in Scotland, that you’ll transform not just one guest, but a whole houseful!”
They clinked glasses, the sound ringing through the room in a cheerful chorus. Lynne sat back and sipped her champagne, the bubbles fizzing through her.
Her adventure in Scotland, she mused happily. Yes, that sounded just about right.
Like it? Shoot me an email and I'll send you the rest of the installment!
Labels: The People's Friend, writing life
posted by Kate Hewitt at
