State of the Beck

Thanks for your e-mails (you know who you are!). I figured I’d answer some of those questions here since a lot of them were the same. I’ll still answer your e-mail, of course, but I’ll link you here for more general information.

Yes, I am happy we finished writing WHEN YOU DON’T SEE ME. Not because it was a bad experience. It was an emotionally draining experience. No, it is not because I no longer enjoy writing with Tim and Jim. I LOVE writing with Tim and Jim. Along with all the pleasure, there will be conflicts. Creative people can be hyper-sensitive, especially when they are creating. So yeah, things can get tense, and I’m probably the worst in the “bitch about it” arena, because that’s part of my Aries nature. Aries reacts, then moves on. We are the child of the zodiac, so think of a toddler who doesn’t get something she wants. She may yell and cry, and an hour later she’s forgotten the whole incident. That’s me. (I mean “an hour” figuratively, of course.)

No, the novel is not about September 11. The book has characters who were affected by September 11. We did not want to set a novel in 2003 New York City and pretend things hadn’t changed. That’s most of the reason why writing the book was sometimes draining. I’ve posted before (but you might not always read here) that a single, tiny part of a novel can reflect many, many hours of research. For this novel in particular, it was important to me to be respectful of people living in New York and affected by that event while I was getting inside a particular character’s head. So I spent hundreds of hours reading blogs and articles and viewing video and photographs. There’s no way that couldn’t impact me (see “hyper-sensitive,” above).

Closely related to the “react and forget” quality I mentioned… Yes, I saw that author’s request. A long time ago, that same writer asked for something else. Both Tim and I offered our assistance and as I recall, we were somewhat publicly rebuffed. So no, I was not inclined to offer help again. I’m sorry if I sound all cryptic about this. I don’t criticize or try to humiliate other authors in a public forum.

Which leads into another of your questions… Do I hold grudges? It sounds that way, but not if holding a grudge implies malice or ill-intent toward the one “who done me wrong.” I never wish ill for anyone. I’m not boasting about it, since it’s more often because I don’t want to waste my limited energy on negative crap. There’s also the matter of self-preservation, as I believe what I give out I’ll get back multiplied.

As I said, I let go of small hurts, misunderstandings, or tense moments almost instantly, especially if I’ve roared out an Aries reaction to them. Happened. Dealt with. Forgotten. If brought up again by someone else, I may remember the incident, but it evokes very little emotion from me. In fact, more often than not, it’ll make me laugh at myself for the way I reacted in the first place.

But big offenses, especially toward someone I love? I don’t dwell on those events, but they stay in the filing cabinet of my brain. If the offending person returns to my life, I’m more than willing to open that drawer marked “Pissed Me Off” and remind myself of the information filed there.

On to happier things.

I suddenly realized last week, because of a conversation in which the Lambda Literary Foundation was mentioned, that it’s almost time for the 2006 Lambda finalists to be announced. I was thrilled that the awards hadn’t crossed my mind! Titles would have had to be nominated by December 1, I think, by their authors or their publishers. The fact that it didn’t occur to me to nominate SOMEONE LIKE YOU in gay romance or gay fiction or whatever category it might have been qualified for is MAJOR. It means I’ve grown indifferent after my disappointment that five novels I helped write (though nominated by others as well as by us) were never finalists. I’m sure there are a lot of great people associated with the Lambda Literary awards, and there are many good authors who were never even nominated, much less became finalists and winners. Whatever. I’m glad this whole process has stopped being part of anything I think about related to my work. Yeah, it’d be nice to get peer recognition. But that will never even begin to compare to how good it makes me feel when readers react to things I (or we) have written.

When I say I like reader reactions, I don’t mean I thrive on praise and flattery. I LOVE praise, don’t get me wrong, but I’m open to hearing what people don’t like, too. Sometimes I learn from those things–even if what I learn is, “No, I stand by my (our) decision to have written it that way.” I have gotten somewhat thicker-skinned over the years, but my priorities have never shifted. Here’s the order of where I place my responsibility:

to the work itself–the story and the characters
to my writing partners (and to myself, as a writer)
to the publisher, if I already have a contract

If I am respectful to all those relationships, then it will just naturally follow that readers will know how much I respect them. Nowhere in that equation do I consider the people who dismiss or disrespect what we do because of its genre, or because they don’t like the cover, or because they think happy endings suck, or because they don’t like our publishers, or whatever fuels their arbitrary insults. Those people are in the mental filing cabinet drawer marked, “Let Me Know When You Write and FINISH Your Masterpiece, Poser.”

Yes, I’m excited to be working on a second Coventry novel. The writing is slow, but that’s okay. My brain never shuts off. As long as I’m thinking about the novel–coming up with scenes and characters and possibilities–I’m not worried about how few words I’m producing. They will come. No, the book is not about Keelie. Though you may see some of the people you met in Coventry, you’ll be meeting new folks, too. I’ll do my best to write a good story and give you some characters you’ll care about. I already care about them, and that’s a good thing!

And yep, I AM going to the gym, even without the perfect shoes. Mostly my mind is empty when I’m there (okay, except for the occasional–OMG, LOOK AT THAT GUY!)–but when I’m in the water? That’s where I sometimes do some of my most productive mental writing.

Thanks for your questions and for your continuing interest in me and my writing.