By Christine Son
Writing is wonderful. Magical, even. With words, one can create imaginary worlds. Can delve deep into a character’s head. Can render a fictional scene from a true event that had gone horribly awry in real life. Writing can result in delicious, popcorn entertainment. And it can move a reader so that she recognizes that what she’s experiencing is art in its purest form. I love writing. I obsess over it. And in hindsight, I love even the difficult bits of the process, the word glut-filled nights when I think that my novel-in-process will never go anywhere. I love how writing makes me feel, how it opens up my perspective and makes me more empathetic. As isolating as the exercise of writing can be, it’s also a strangely humanizing activity, one that makes me feel more connected to the rest of the world.
Publishing, on the other hand, is another bag altogether. It’s a business that’s hideously generous with rejections. Hideous, as in having something like a 99% rejection rate for fiction writers. With those kinds of odds, I’m much better off at a craps table in Vegas. Still, I was foolhardy enough — and, like most writers, unreasonably optimistic — to think that I might creep into that glorious one percent. And after years of work, no sleep, a two-foot stack of rejection letters and a divine miracle, I did. My first novel, OFF THE MENU, sold to Penguin, and I celebrated as if I had just won Powerball. I celebrated as if I had achieved something better than winning Powerball because I had. My husband jumped up and down for joy. Literally. My friends congratulated me and told me that I was awesome. My coworkers (unfortunately, I have an arduous day job) gawked at me enviously. Life was good. It was better than good.
Fast-forward thirteen months to eight weeks before publication. My publicist told me that my first book signing was going to be August 15th, and suddenly, I felt exactly the way I’d made my characters in OFF THE MENU, which is to say that I was gripped by paralyzing fear. After all, it’s one thing to hide away at home and write, to have my baby safely within my grasp. It’s a different thing entirely to have that work out in the public where everyone can see it. I kept thinking, what in the world have I done? What had possessed me to push so hard to get my book before an audience that might judge? What if my friends laughed at me? Or worse, thought I was a hack? A fraud? The self doubt that was plaguing me was made worse by the fact that everyone was telling me to laud myself, a characteristic that my Korean parents — who had adopted genteel Texas sensibilities — had spent their entire lives telling me not to do. It’s unseemly, they said. Terribly uncouth. And yet, as an author, I have to sell myself. I know that. I knew it even when I was praying that a publisher would notice me. And still I went for it. And still I was terrified when everyone was telling me that I should be nothing but thrilled.
Of course, I am thrilled that OFF THE MENU’s out on bookshelves now. But I’m still anxious and nervous and all the other nail-biting emotions that go along with having such a personal piece of me out there. Maybe all authors feel this way. After all, we want our readers to enjoy our books. To feel like they can escape from the real world for a few hours. To feel uplifted and inspired and entertained. In a way, having my novel in the public is like hosting a party. I want everyone to be happy and taken care of. And if that’s why I push myself so hard to make my second book better than the first, and the third better than them all, then maybe this anxiety isn’t such a bad thing.
Read more about Christine here.
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OMG I hadn’t thought about that. What would I do if I had a book signing tomorrow? I’m not sure that the anxiety goes away. And can I keep all those characters in my head? I heard that at your second book signing, it’s all about the first book. At your third, it’s about the second.
As far as those Neanderthals that could be laughing somewhere, they probably won’t go so far as to come to the book launch. Unless they are relatives, and then, what can you do? You can’t call security, you’d hear about it for the next ten years at the Christmas dinner table.
Positive thoughts to you and your book signings. Have fun.
by Lynn
on August 19th, 2008 at 5:59 am
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Ahh, Christine. I know that feeling EXACTLY. My first signing was 1 month ago. I was terrified for the simple things, spelling someone’s name wrong, spelling my own name wrong, saying something stupid…
I’ll tell you, it get’s easier with each experience. Three weeks ago, I did my first public signing at a Borders Books. I was still REALLY nervous. I felt a lot better after selling all twenty of their books and bringing in ten more from my stock. I was even able to hold conversations with strangers in discussing my characters and the plot.
I did an event last weekend (my fourth) and I was relaxed and enjoyed it thoroughly. It could have been the alcohol, since we held it at a martini bar. Which, by the way, was an excellent venue for a book signing.
Congratulations and ENJOY your wonderful accomplishment.
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Congratulations, Christine, from one Berkley Babe to another.
I’ve got a few months before I have to worry about book signings, but I did my first panel this weekend, and that was a pretty freaky experience, too. Having to explain why my books are funny (Humor in Mysteries), what the subplots are and why I chose them (Depth Charge; Using subplots to create depth - who knew I had depth?!) and disecting my beginnings and endings to explain how I started with a punch and ended with a bang, made me doubt myself all over again. Hopefully, by the time the book comes out in November, all those people will have forgotten how stupid I sounded, and will give the book a try anyway!
by JennieB
on August 19th, 2008 at 7:56 am
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Jennie, you bring up a great point about panels. I’ll be doing a small panel at a library here near St. Louis. I’m not concerned about that. BUT, I was just assigned a panel at Bouchercon. My stomach is already doing flip flops and I don’t REALLY know what the subject is yet.
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Yeah, that’s the reason I signed on to do a whole bunch of panels at this small local conference: I was prepping for Bouchercon. As it turns out, I won’t be going, but I didn’t want to come to it cold.
Advice: when you find out the topic, do as much research on it as you can, and come up with a couple of gems. Say as little as possible, dribble those brilliant statements out one at a time, and everyone will think you’re a genius.
Seriously, it’s better to say less than more, at least until you feel comfortable. Don’t give yourself a chance to babble (I did). And take deep breaths. Remember that you know more about your book than anyone else, and the people in the audience have no idea who you are or what you might be an expert on. And if possible, get to know the other people on the panel beforehand. You’ll be so much more comfortable in front of the audience if you’re comfortable with the other panelists. Communicate by email - chances are you will anyway, as the moderator will (or should) give you some idea what to do to prepare - but try to meet up with these people briefly during the part of the conference that comes before the panel, too. It really makes a difference. I did two panels with people I’d never met before, and one with people I knew, and the difference was amazing. The difference in how I felt about it, anyway; I may have sounded just as stupid for all of it. E-mail me if you want to talk more.
by JennieB
on August 19th, 2008 at 3:38 pm
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Thanks, y’all, for the encouragement! So, the signing was a big success, and I’ve been able to sleep more than three hours a night since then. All the feelings of trepidation are still there, just on a much, much lower scale. Good luck to all of you, and a big thanks to the gorgeous, unbelievably talented Tasha Alexander for having me!!
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