August 2010

The first question--and these are in no particular order--is from reader Amanda who wanted to know why some authors choose to use a nom de plume. She was inquiring specifically about established authors using pseudonyms, and the answer is pretty straightforward. When an established author is getting ready for a fresh start--new publisher, new genre, etc.--they may decide that a change of name is in order. (There are some authors who find that their original publisher actually owns their name, even if it is their birth name, which is both strange and unseemly, but such is the nature of publishing at times.) Usually, the various pen names are attached to specific genres. For instance, Eleanor Hibbert wrote Victoria Holt books--straight up Gothic romances, Philippa Carr--historical family saga, and Jean Plaidy--royal biography. That made it extremely easy for her to build a following in each genre without carrying any specific expectations from her other pen names. And people knew that buying a Victoria Holt book would never give the same experience as a Jean Plaidy. (The odd exception is The Queen's Confession, an "autobiography" of Marie Antoinette, which was published under Victoria Holt rather than Jean Plaidy. It seemed more "Plaidy-like", but it may have been the only first-person royal narrative and thus read more like the Holt books.) Hope that helps!

So I'm revising Julia Grey #5 right now, and it's a strange thing, this revising. I used to hate it. HATE IT. The necessity of revising symbolized imperfection to me. I didn't write it correctly the first time, so it had to be rewritten, went my thinking. I wanted each first draft to be turned in, pristine and finished. (This is directly related to the fact that when I was in school, I turned in rough drafts and never once revised a paper. I remember turning in my senior seminar paper for my history degree in college--all fifty pages--and getting the draft back with an 'A-' marked on it. My first thought was, "Good enough." No WAY was I spending a minute longer than I had to with George S. Patton and Martin van Creveld. Worthy men, I'm sure, but I was 22 and had a wedding to plan.)

Anyway, suffice it to say, I got into the habit of turning myself inside out for as good a first draft as I could possibly fashion. That lasted until I mentioned this quirk to my editor on the phone one day. She went very quiet for a moment and then said, "You do realize that's a very good way to kill yourself?" She patiently explained that first drafts were FIRST drafts for a reason and that revision was my friend. Since then, I have actually learned to LOVE revising. Seriously, it's my bestie. But it does require a level of focus that first draft writing doesn't. This is when I concentrate on finding holes in logic and plot and character and plugging them firmly. By the time I finish the day's work, I am bleary-eyed and a little punchy and everyday things seem infinitely more difficult, like I'm living underwater and moving at half-speed. I occasionally forget to do things--like blog yesterday. Oops. But here are a few bits of randomness you might enjoy:

*I got word yesterday that RT gave Dark Road to Darjeeling four and a half stars and a "Top Pick" designation. Woot!

*I just finished reading Carolyn See's Making a Literary Life. If you are a writer, hang with writers, think you might want to write in your next life, RUN out and get this book and tell everyone to leave you be until you've read it. It's divine. REALLY. It's the best sort of writing advice, but I'm not going to tell you why because you need to read it yourself.

*I am intrigued by children's literature. I find myself occasionally buying copies of things I haven't read for thirty-five years just to reacquaint myself with old friends. Right now I am reading Mary Poppins, and if you think she's anything at all like the Disney version--well, HA. She's prickly and touchy and snappy, and I adore her. (This is particularly good for writers, I think, the reading of good children's literature. Authors of children's books have to break things down to the essentials and they often do it in the most unexpected and inspiring ways. I seldom read good kids' books without being freshly motivated for my own work.)

So that brings me to my question: what children's book influenced you the most? For me, the book I remember reading when I was a child was Little Women. I know I read other things, but when I close my eyes and think of being a kid, that's the book I recall. (And yes, that's where the March family in my series gets its name. In every book I write, I also include an homage to Agatha Christie by naming a character after one of hers because Death on the Nile was the first mystery I ever read.) What about you? What book from your childhood still touches you?

For most of my life, I thought I was supposed to be a writer. Now I know better. I was born to be a crusader, a woman with a purpose, with a cause to champion and a wrong to right. I have a MISSION, people, and I will not be ignored. What is it, you ask?

Chest hair. I’m serious. I miss chest hair. I am fed up to the back teeth with manscaping, and the next guy who takes a razor to his pectorals better watch out. I honestly don’t know how it all started. I understand the need to clean up around a beard or tidy up the neck after a haircut—and believe me, no one deplores the back hair more than I do. If you take off your shirt and it looks like you are still wearing a sweater, put your clothes back on and we will never speak of it.

But to take a perfectly glorious chest and WAX IT BARE is just wrong. (My excessive use of capitals should make it very clear how serious I am here.) The masculine chest is a beautiful thing, and the hair on that chest is merely the very excellent cherry on the manly goodness beneath. To remove it is just WRONG and, frankly, very upsetting to those of us who are fans. The attraction is a primal one. It reminds us of how we’re different. Forgive me for speaking from a hetero-girl perspective. It’s the only one I’ve got, but it’s immutable. I could wax rhapsodic on the subject, and frequently do. The line of hair that leads from the navel south is worth a sonnet alone. So, if you have a man in your life threatening to defuzz, show him this and school him in the error of his ways, and if all else fails, hide the Nair. I mean to reverse this trend to hairlessness, one denuded chest at a time.

The fine gentlemen over at the Project Rungay blog posted an editorial from China Vogue's September 2010 issue, and I can barely tear myself away from it long enough to work. (But work I have been, my dears! Been twisting myself into knots over revisions, quite literally--as my chiropractor can tell you. I got crunched and cracked today, which did not feel nice but will be divine by tomorrow.) Anyway, Vogue. China. Delicious things that I want. Seriously--one of each.