Happy belated Hallowe’en, from your friend the Doctor (and his friend, the Doctor)!

If you’ve been wondering what I’ve been up to, the answer is: busy busy busy. Here’s what I wrote this month:

• At the Intergalactic Academy, I interviewed Karen Sandler, and wrote about the teens of Terra Nova.
• Also at the Intergalactic Academy, I reviewed Ready Player One by Ernest Cline, Circus Galacticus by  Deva Fagan, Crossed by Ally Condie, and The Always War by Margaret Peterson Haddix.
• At YA Highway, I wrote about my evolving attitudes toward workshop feedback.
• The Young Adult Review Network featured my short story, “Elsie and the Wild Boys.”
• And I wrote my first fanfic in a decade, “The Honeymoon of River Song.”

Yes, I’m a dork. Had you ever any doubt?

Today was the last day of BEA. As my trip to New York winds down, I’m inevitably becoming reflective on the whole thing–my first big in-person immersion into THE BIZ which I hope to be a part of.

My first thought is an easy one: I met a tremendous number of tremendous people this week. Kirsten Hubbard and Kaitlin Ward were pretty much my partners in crime for most of the trip, and I’ll really genuinely miss them and hope we keep in touch and get to share writing soon! Kody Keplinger is even fiercer and more fabulous than I imagined–at her signing for SHUT OUT, I passed her a post-it that said “Phoebe luvs Kody” in a little heart and damned if I didn’t mean it. Emilia Plater was adorable and full of love and I wanted to keep her in my pocket and take her home (though it would have to be a very big pocket; she’s a tall girl). Sumayyah Dawd and Sarah Enni were bright and brilliant and we really, really need to do a DC-metro meet-up before I leave the area forever. Michelle Hodkin was kind and inspiring, and Hannah Moskowitz was sharp and fantastic (and I spent most of the trip inhaling Gone, Gone, Gone on the subway, to boot) and Claire Legrand was elegant and funny and Sam and Paula were fun and perceptive and Paula’s son Milo knew a remarkable amount about Wookies. And it’s one a.m. and I’m probably forgetting someone and I’m so, so sorry if I did. You were awesome, too.

I got lots of books, and heard people discussing books, and that was great–is always great. But I had a disarming experience or two giving out my card. People took it, noted my name–said that they knew me. And insinuated that, while they liked my reviews and respected my thoughts, they feared them, too.

What a weird feeling.

Weird because I spent a lot of my time being scared of everyone. I’m shy, you see. Always have been. And that shyness became social anxiety sometime around high school. I spent a lot of my time wrestling with it, trying to be aware of it enough that I can overcome it, but not so aware of it that it’s crippling. I don’t think of myself as a scary person, who does and thinks scary, intimidating things–because I’m usually so busy being intimidated by others!

But I suppose I understand. I’m opinionated, and honest, and upfront about how opinionated and honest I am. I spent a lot of time on the subway this week thinking about reviewing, about being “scary”, about how reviewing fits into my life these days. I can honestly say I’ve been honestly reviewed at this point. I’ve felt the sting, the defensiveness, the urge to correct.

But spending so much wonderful time talking about books this week, discussing the nuts and bolts of stories and why they make us passionate, I still wouldn’t trade my position as an opinionated author/blogger for the world. Because as much as I like the authors I met as people, I’m not here for authors-as-institutions. I’m here for the books–the stories. And I understand defensiveness, and how hard it is to separate your books from yourself. But critical discourse and deliberation and careful consideration of craft can only ever result in better books.

On my first night here in the city, I went to the Teen Author Carnival. On one panel, the authors were asked if there was anything they’d change about their books. Kody Keplinger began to talk about a review she’d gotten, one that discussed Judy Blume and the ending of her book and how the ending was a little neat, how the reviewer wished it had been messier. And how she thinks of that now when she writes, about messy endings and emotional realism.

Standing there (smelly and tired from a long bus ride), I began to feel a lump in my throat. Because she was talking about my review.

I know not every author I’ve reviewed has felt that way–agreed with me about my criticism, been able to glean something from it. I don’t expect them to, and in a narrow way, I still don’t write specifically for writers. I understand that they can’t change their books after publication, and so many authors feel that they can’t learn from reviews at all.

But critical discussion around books generally can lead to more conscientious craft, a more thoughtful approach on the next book, and deeper writing. And I still want to be a part of that dialogue. No book is ever perfect, but we can talk about what an author’s done right, and wrong, and how to avoid mistakes in future books, and how to be more thoughtful as writers and storytellers. Writing’s not a monologue, but a conversation between writers and readers. And I still want to be a part of that, on both sides–still stubbornly refuse to give up my reader’s mantle.

So I’m okay with being scary, I guess. And for facing the scary future, too–one in which someone, inevitably, will teach me the truth about my own writing, too. Because it’s not about me, or even you. It’s about the words, and what they make us feel and think, and how they speak to us. It’s about working to write damn good books, and working to make damn good books even better.

Onwards.

Hi, guys! I’m editing.

If you're anything like me, you will zoom in on this image to try and read the text. Because you are nosy. 'scool.

I just looked at the clock and realized it was almost midnight and I hadn’t written a blog post yet. I could write about slashing and burning my book, but that’s boring. Really–talking about editing? Snooze. What works for me isn’t likely to work for you, anyway.

But I was just listening in a bit to someone’s twitter conversation, and it seemed to be ripe fodder for a post, because it’s something that’s been on my mind a lot. They were talking about Across the Universe by Beth Revis, and how they think it’s not really sci-fi.

Hmm.

I’ve encountered this sort of argument before, but it seems to be a recent one in YA. I’m used to arguing genre with literary types, who want to proclaim that any book that’s good couldn’t possibly be science fiction, even if it has, like, talking squids in space. But this argument is different. It’s not precisely the same sort of qualitative argument–these parties are likely to argue, in fact, that certain YA genre books are not, in fact, science fiction because they don’t think they’re particularly good science fiction.

I’ve heard arguments that those writing YA dystopian novels are just opportunistic phonies riding a trend wave toward fame. They think it’s clear that the writers in question Have Not Done Their Research because they can find world building flaws or because they’ve seen certain tropes before. And I’ll admit, I’ve been annoyed by the shoddy world building in certain books, or found aspects implausible (I’m looking at you, Delirium). I even kinda didn’t like some of these books.

But I’m still fine with calling them sci-fi.

Because of these aforementioned arguments with literary types about genre, I generally subscribe to what I like to call the “Calling a Utopia a Utopia” system of labeling sci-fi. Basically, if a work has any of the tropes commonly recognized as science fictional, it’s sci-fi. Aliens? Sci-fi. Spaceships? Sci-fi. Genetic engineering? Sci-fi. Apocalypses? Sci-fi.

I think this works two ways: it avoids weasely arguments that only define as science fictional works that suck, and it brings genre definitions more in line with the common sense way that most readers–both mainstream, and genre–actually interact with books and television. Because, you know, when my mom says she loves sci-fi she doesn’t mean only hard sci-fi where every aspect of the world building is perfectly considered (in fact, she mostly means B-movies on the SyFy channel), and when my friend says she hates it, she mostly means Star Trek leaves her cold.

Anyway, the reason this all troubles me, and quite a bit, at times, is that I’m a big sci-fi nerd. I’ve been searching for YA science fiction for years, and mostly came up completely empty until recently. And so, while I haven’t loved every sci-fi or dystopian release, I’ve been really happy to see some sort of push in publishing for the type of books that I love. For the first time, there might be room at the cool kids’ table for a dork like me.

And this dork isn’t a terribly huge hard SF fan. In fact, I really wonder if the soft science fiction that I’ve been reading since I was twelve–Katie Waitman or Megan Lindholm or Anne McCaffrey or Elizabeth Moon or Sherri S. Tepper–would pass muster with a lot of these objectors if these writers didn’t have tradition on their side. Because some of their world building is occasionally holey. Because sometimes the SF is used as atmospheric window dressing for a character-driven story. Because sometimes their books are a bit cliche, like psychic soulmates and effortless FTL travel and stuff

We have a term for this guys. It’s not “not science fiction.” It’s soft sci-fi (and it’s awesome).

Of course this is personal, too. I’ll tell you: I’ve done my homework. I always bristle when people are ignorant about the genre they’re writing in, but I’ve read every piece of YA space opera I’ve been able to get my hands on. I have an adolescence spent reading Frederick Pohl and a young adulthood spent reading Octavia Butler behind me. But the science fiction in Daughter of Earth isn’t perfect (though I’ve worked hard to make it work), and I can’t really pretend that I coined the term generation ship or anything like that. And I worry that my credentials are going to be held up to the light and judged and, feh, you know what? I love stuff like Alien Nation and Star Trek even when they are filled with rubber forehead aliens, because they thrill me. I just love all that spacey, alienish stuff.

And I don’t feel like I’m in any position to judge whether another speculative author deserves to sit with me under a genre umbrella or not (even if I might not like particular books etc. etc.). I’m just glad, really glad, that people are reading and writing books in the genre that I care about–and honestly, if you love sci-fi, I think you should be, too. Because even if the sci-fi books that are out now aren’t working for you, they represent a shift in publishing, a shift toward an environment where young adult sci-fi has a chance to find an audience for once, and that creates the possibility of harder SF being accepted, too, whereas once it was all sparkly vampires. It’s an exciting time to be a nerd.

I guess what I’m saying is, viva la (imperfect, implausible) spaceships.

How to be using the goodreads?!

I’ve been meaning to put this post together for awhile, but then a blog post by Beth Revis where she shares social media tips got my butt in gear. goodreads.com, a social networking site focused on books, can be a pretty intimidating place for an author. The community there is very reader-centric, with its own mores, and a heavy focus on consumer book reviews (scary!). Having been a member there as a reader for over three years, I thought I’d share some tips on the best ways to use the site to connect with readers.

The first step is to look over the page the goodreads staff has provided on their author program. I’d highly recommend that you follow their instructions on building an author profile (complete with linked books, videos, a stream of your blog, and so on). I’d also recommend that you take advantage of their suggestions for networking with readers:

Take control of your profile
Make your profile a dynamic destination for curious readers. Here are some of the features you can use on your profile. Here’s what they recommend:

• Add a picture and bio.
• Share your list of favorite books and recent reads with your fans!
• Write a blog and generate a band of followers.
• Publicize upcoming events, such as book signings and speaking engagements.
• Share book excerpts and other writing.
• Write a quiz about your book or a related topic.
• Post videos.
• Add the Goodreads Author widget to to your personal website or blog to show off reviews of your books.Promote your books

Get the word out!
Here are some of the promotional tools available on Goodreads:

• Sign up to advertise your book to up to the Goodreads Community—4,400,000 readers!
• List a book giveaway to generate pre-launch buzz.
• Lead a Q&A discussion group for readers.
• Participate in discussions on your profile, in groups and in the discussion forums for your books.

The tools provided by the goodreads staff are very effective. In a quick poll of my goodreads friends (some of whom are very highly ranked reviewers on the site), many cited the Author Q&A boards as favorite places to connect with writers. They enjoyed the opportunity to engage in book-centric discussion with the creators of books themselves.

They also recommended that you (yes, you) try to be like Margaret Atwood. Oh, if only we could all exude such awesomeness!

But taking advantage of goodreads built-in opportunities doesn’t need to be the end of your site participation. Now, keep in mind that a lot of authors don’t do goodreads very well. Some authors use it as an opportunity to repeatedly spam readers, sending them recommendations for their books over and over again, or ending every message or comment with something like, “Don’t forget to pick up my book, an April 2012 release with Jerky Writer Press!”

Writers, let me tell you: spamming people is not cool. And it’s also not a very effective way to sell books. I think of this as the “butt-brush factor.” Paco Underhill, a researcher who studied the sociology of mall lay-outs (no joke), wrote that women who are jostled from behind in a store are most likely to bolt from the mall without having bought a thing.

WHAT CONSTITUTES GOOD OR BAD STORE DESIGN?

UNDERHILL: A lot of women are uncomfortable in narrow aisles–what I call the “butt-brush” factor. If you want them to stop and browse where there’s a high rate of conversion to purchase, you need to have wide aisles.

Having an author spam you when you really just want to talk about books is kind of like having your butt touched. Leave “wide aisles” around your readers–give them space so that they don’t feel violated.

Another way to create these “wide aisles” is to be careful about responding appropriately to reviews. This really boils down to one thing: don’t respond to negative reviews given to your books or books by your author-friends. I know that it’s hard–I know that sometimes you really, really want to correct misinformation, or give a reviewer career advice, or maybe even show that you can roll with the punches.

Don’t. Just don’t!

The vast majority of reviewers will construe author presence on negative reviews as threatening. They’ll see it, correctly or not, as an attempt to stifle conversation. I know that it feels really unfair, but it’s an ugly truth of the author-reader relationship: readers interpret authors as having power in these kinds of exchanges (and they do have the legitimacy of a publisher or readership behind them, even if writers see the power differential differently) and so get kind of freaked out by these butt-brushes. It’s a really, really good idea to refrain from commenting completely if you don’t want to totally alienate readers who might be watching the exchange. If you can’t do that, my biggest recommendation would be to set up a goodreads profile, and then avoid the site completely.

As a note, some goodreads members view all author interactions on reviews this way. They cite this Ilona Andrews blog post, and discuss how any reminder of an author’s presence makes them uneasy, even if they liked a book. I think these feelings are stronger in YA, thanks to the recent #YAMafia dust-up, and they’re certainly not the feelings of all reviewers on goodreads (some reviewers, of which I’m one, really love when an author tells them they liked a review. I mean, Megan McCafferty tweeted me. Squee!), but I think that it’s worth being aware of these feelings, and to know that they’re issues of debate within the community.

So if you can’t respond to reviews, and you can’t spam readers, what can you do?

You can use the site as a reader, of course!

This might seem counterintuitive, that utilizing a site like this as a reader could possibly help you sell books. As Beth Revis said in her blog post:

I didn’t to add it because, really, I mostly just use GoodReads to keep track of what books I’ve read and what books I want to read. I set up the author page there, but do very little to maintain it. So I definitely welcome any others who would like to share!

But ironically, using goodreads in this way is a terrific way to connect with potential readers. Because the books you love are sometimes (though not always) a pretty good indication of the way that you write. I’d recommend that, minimally, any author on goodreads list their favorite books with a small paragraph or two explaining why you love them. Maggie Stiefvater is one of many authors who does just that. Jessica Day George is another, and her brief (mostly positive, but occasionally negative) reviews are a great way of learning about the things she values in writing. Sherwood Smith is one of my favorite author/goodreaders in this regard. Her profile makes it clear that she’s a reader (like us!) and is really there because she loves books:

I’m here on Goodreads to talk about books, as I’ve been a passionate reader as long as I’ve been a writer–since early childhood.

I’m not going to rate my own books–of course I love them, or I wouldn’t have written them. If anyone is interested in what I was trying to do with this or that book, I’ll put that under my own ‘review’ of my stuff–otherwise, I’m mostly here to talk about my own reading.

I will never bombard this list or any other hounding people to read my books.

The benefit of adding reviews is that it makes your profile useful to readers on another level. goodreads members are there to talk about books–honest, and fairly intelligent discussion is the cornerstone of the community. I would always rather add an author as a friend if I know that I’ll also get smart, like-minded (or not! Discussion and disagreement are exciting when we’re talking about books) book recommendations from them, rather than just spam. And I love Sherwood’s idea of adding her thoughts as a review of her own books. Here’s an example of what she does, on her review of Wren to the Rescue:

I wish they would show the original covers, which are so very much nicer.

This series was conceived when I was in high school. What happened was, a friend from Dutch Indonesia asked me somewhat wistfully to write a story with a heroine who wasn’t tall, with pure white skin and golden hair and blue (or emerald) eyes. So I proposed writing a story about a brown girl with brown eyes and dark curly hair . . . but another friend scolded me, saying that a WASP like me should not presume to write about a minority heroine, as I did not know the least about how minority people felt while living in WASP-majority America.

So I compromised, letting Wren’s stripey hair be a secret signal for the fact that she wasn’t all white–in later books I slipped in her brown skin, and made her short and round, rather than tall and elfin.

I kept all that when I rewrote it for publication in 1990

This adds utility and interesting content to her profile, whereas the practice of just rating your own book five-stars and saying something like, “Duh! I WROTE it!” adds nothing.

One last caveat, on positive-only reviews. Readers understand why some authors choose to never negatively review a colleague’s book. For the most part, we respect that, even if we feel differently. But do keep in mind that in a community that values thoughtfulness and discussion, really gushy, unbelievably positive reviews on every single book you’ve read are viewed as a little eye-roll worthy. They’re not really useful, and kind of just noise. Again, we understand why a practice like that exists, and you’re not required to negatively review anyone (though it might increase the utility of friending you for readers if you do). It’s just kind of silly, and not in keeping with the general tenor of the site.

What is in keeping with it is respectful, lively discussion and a love of books. And you love books, right? So hop in.