Point 1 and The Best Books of 2012... and Why I'm Not Telling

Okay, I totally brainfarted out over the weekend and forgot to talk about the big surprise - aka Point 1 from my post the other day.  Go over to Killer Chicks right now... then come back and read the post for today.  Oh and SQUEE!
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I don't do best books lists.  Sorry if you stopped by hoping I'd pony up with the deets.  Suffice it to say, I read 90 books in 2012 and picking out the top 5 or 10 wouldn't do justice to the other 80-85.  I read books I loved and books I didn't.  I put a few of them aside without finishing them and I won't really go into the deets about those either.

If you're interested in seeing the books I read, and the stars I gave them, head over to my Goodreads page.  I think you can get to the list by clicking that widgety thing on the right.  Most of them are 4 or 5 stars.  I think there's a three in there somewhere.

I love books.  And I read everything.  So putting together a top ten list would be like asking me which apple I liked best and then me throwing oranges and bananas into the mix.  Having said all that, though, let me tell you that I have certain authors I can't get enough of.  If you've been around long enough, you've heard me gush.  You can tell who they are by looking over my reading lists for the past few years and seeing the same names over and over.

And I have friends now that have books published, and I love all of them as much as I love all their books.

So, if you're looking for a 'best of' from me, sorry to disappoint.  And if you want a book recommendation, tell me specifically what you're looking for and I'll point you in a direction.  Want a light SF author?  Read Gini Koch's Alien series.  Want a quirky, fun mystery?  Check out JB Lynn's Hitwoman series.  Want something gritty?  Larry Correia  With monsters?  Larry Correia.  With alternate history and magic?  Larry Corre... you get the point.

Want an all-around awesome author who generally writes something having to do with the paranormal or the supernatural or the strange?  My long-standing writerly crush is on Seanan McGuire (aka Mira Grant).

But see?  Now I've gone and started naming names, which makes me wonder who I forgot, who I'm inadvertently offending, and who might be frowning right now because I didn't drop his or her name.  Which is why I don't do these lists.

Like I said - want to know what I think about the books I've read, go to Goodreads.  Or ask me privately.  But understand something else - I'm not necessarily all that objective about the books I read.  Maybe because I'm a writer.  Or maybe I'm just weird.

What about you?  Can you pick the best books you read in 2012, or are you like me and pretty much liked everything?

Oh and for those of you who didn't follow the link up there, the big surprise is that I am the newest Killer Chick.  SQUEE!  

Blowing Smoke Up Your... Armpit

Okay, I was thinking about this recently and even more this morning, so I thought I'd write up a little post about the idea...

Idea:

When you write a query letter, you're supposed to put a little something in there to personalize the thing.  Where you found them, why you want to work with them, what it was about the agent or agency that drew you to them.  I don't want to disparage the practice - because well, hell, people do like to know that you've done your homework.

Oftentimes, though, such a paragraph comes out sounding like you're trying to blow smoke up someone's... armpit.  No matter how sincere you actually are trying to be.

So I leave it out.

Besides, after 8 years of querying, I'm not exactly sure where I found a particular agent initially, the whys of wanting to work with them are so numerous that detailing them would take more than a paragraph, and again, the what it is about a particular person that drew me to them are lost to the sands of time and my squonky memory cells.

Plus, telling someone that one article they wrote back in 2006 really blew my skirt up makes me seem like I'm just a Google junkie - which leads me back to the perceived sincerity (or lack thereof) issue.

Idea 1.2 (corollary):

When you truly love a writer and/or their work, and you go all fangirly in your reviews, you could possibly maybe sound like you're blowing smoke.

And there you are back at the sincerity issue again.  Bleh.

So, in the interest of cutting through the bull-pucky, let me just come right out now and say this one stone-hard fact:

I do not blow smoke up anyone's... armpit... for any reason.  If I tell you I like your work, I like it.  If I get all fangirl and SQUEE, it's the truth.  And if I do happen to say why I chose to send you my query, I'm telling it because I mean it.

Conversely, if I don't like something, I stay silent about it.  Because my mother always told me that if I couldn't say anything nice, not to say anything at all.  And she's one hell of a wise woman. 

Oh, and just for the sake of making this clear: please, for the sake of all things you hold sacred, don't blow smoke up my as...armpit either.

K?

Reviews

So if you haven't heard about the kerfluffle yet, the NYT discovered a guy who was taking money from self-published authors and churning out positive reviews for them.  Correction, the guy started out doing reviews himself and then started hiring people to do the reviews for him.  All positive, all the time from the sounds of it.

Of course, the guy and his minions never bothered to say in the review that it was a paid review.  He just threw the reviews out there as actual opinions from real readers.  And therein lies the rub.

Remember the other kerfluffle from a couple years ago?  The FCC or some other such government agency decided we bloggers all needed to state publicly whether we received any compensation for the reviews we were posting.  So we all started putting up disclaimers and swearing on a stack of classics that our reviews were the honest truth, so help us Rand-McNally.

:shrug:  This guy publicly admits to running a service where he pulled the wool over the customer's eyes and not a damn thing happened.  In fact, if you read the NYT article (which I won't point to but it's easy enough to locate on your own), it seems as if the journalist is holding this dude up as a shining example of entrepreneurial genius.  :barf:  He was a con artist working with other con artists and for other con artists.  There's nothing good or heroic or genius about that. 

But don't worry too much, folks.  Karma eventually got this guy.  He's selling motor homes in Tulsa (or mobile homes, or something... I forget what but it's definitely not paying him the $28K per month he made shilling good reviews for books). And I like to think karma will get those authors who paid him - because eventually the truth will come out as to whether their writing was actually any good.

Anyway, the point I was actually headed to is one where, as my husband put it a few moments ago, "Don't people realize reviews are just other people's opinions?"*  Sure, reviews can help us evaluate a product before we buy it, but in the end, we're really just taking someone else's word for how awesome or horrible that product is.  And 9.9 times out of ten, we're taking the word of someone we don't know from Adam.

So how do we know if their opinions are actually any good?  We all have to make that determination on our own.  Personally, I stopped reading reviews almost entirely - partly due to this behavior I posted about on Sunday.  I want to know something about a book or a product, I look to people I already know I can trust.  (Like my blog pals.)  If no one I can trust has experience with what I want to know about, I search the web - reading reviews, sure, but also paying close attention to what the people are actually saying.

Sometimes I get screwed.  I buy the product and it's not everything the reviews said it would be.  But most of the time, I get exactly what I expected.

I don't know.  Maybe this guy did such wicked awesome business because some writers are so desperate for awesome reviews they're willing to pay out the nose for them.  Perhaps this all came about because it's less time consuming to pay some service to give you 5 stars than it is to write a book worthy of 5 stars (or less painful than admitting that perhaps your book wasn't as good as you thought it was).  I get it. 

And maybe this guy got away with it at all because people have stopped making judgment calls on their own.  I dunno.

What do you think**? 

*Hubs' incredulous reaction came from the idea that anyone would actually pay to have positive opinions thrown up online.  And also from the fact that he rarely takes anyone's opinion as gospel without facts and evidence to back it up.  :happy sigh:  That's my guy.

** I've already formed my opinion.  I'm just inviting discussion.  =o)

Freaking Out a Little

Okay, so here's the deal.  You might've guessed that I'm smack in the middle of a crisis of self-confidence.  (Or you might not have.  I skipped posting a lot of the worst of it.)  I know it's not rational, but right now, I think everything I write sucks.  In fact, the little voice in the back of my head... You know the one... keeps telling me that everything I've ever written sucks and the future ain't lookin' too good either. (Henceforth, this place shall be known as the ES Zone.)

Enter yesterday morning.  I opened my Outlook and watched the universe deposit a shiny new email in my 'Agent' box.  (Yes, I'm such a geek. I trained my Outlook to place anything with the word 'query' in the subject into its own box.)  Of course, with as negative as I've been feeling, it had to be a rejection.

Except it wasn't.

You'd think my first reaction would be one of glee.  You know, jumping around, doing the Snoopy dance, celebrating a little before I sent my awesome packet out.  My reaction wasn't even close to that.  I think my first thought was 'Sunuvabitch' and then, 'How in the world am I going to send out a quality packet with any confidence if I think everything sucks right now'.  I couldn't even look at the damn thing to make sure I was wrong.  Hell, I'm at the point where I even think my grocery lists are lame.

Don't get me wrong.  I know I loved this story when I first wrote it.  I loved it even more when I rewrote it to make the middle sing.  Now?  Well, the ES Zone doesn't allow for love.  It sure as hell doesn't allow for objectivity.  It just sucks everything into the same pool and leeches the wonder out of it.

So, I was freaking out a little.

I didn't tell my husband.  I didn't say a word to Mom.  I just ran around on the little hamster wheel in my head, thinking "As god is my witness, I don't know what to do."  I debated sending out a blanket email beseeching people for help.  I briefly pondered the idea of writing the nice agent a lovely letter asking her to be patient while I rewrote everything I'd ever written - because, of course, I stink on ice.

Instead, I cleaned.  I scrubbed the kitchen floor by hand.  I dust-mopped and swept and vacuumed.  I beat rugs until I was covered in a thin layer of dust.  When I was too tired to move, I flopped on the couch and read while I watched TV.  Later, I delved deeper into my family tree - discovering a spot where my suspicions were confirmed.  (I knew at some point I'd find cross-breeding in my direct descendent line.)  Finally, as my husband was heading off to the nice warm bed I wanted to climb into, I screwed my courage up, pulled my big girl panties on, and got to work.

I'm trying to forge through the ES Zone - re-reading with an eye toward fatal errors, but not changing anything major because I know I'm being Super Subjective Sally right now.  My fingers itch to wipe everything away and start over - using someone else's brain and hands because mine suck so bad - but I'm pushing ahead.  Just because I'm in the ES Zone doesn't mean I actually suck.  I'm just not objective at the moment.  (Yeah, yeah.  I don't suck.  I'm just not being objective. That's the ticket.)

Here's hoping the agent isn't hanging out in the ES Zone herself.  Now THAT would truly suck.

If all goes well, the submission materials will be going out today or tomorrow.  Wish me luck.

Update: 6:55pm - Submission package sent.  I looked everything over and I did the best I could.  Thanks, Everyone, for your well wishes and luck.  We'll see how it goes from here.

Jury Duty - a Recap

Running on little sleep isn't the best way to start a drive, nor is it the best way to approach the idea of sitting in court all day. Like any event, however, the prospect of jury duty had my mind racing Thursday night. What would it be like? Would I see anybody there I knew? Would I know the defendent or the victim or the witnesses? What would happen if I thought one way and the rest of the jurors thought another? And just what does one wear to jury duty in a rural community?

What can I say, once my mind latches onto something, it's damn the torpedos and full steam ahead.

Anyway, I threw on some clothes, climbed into the car and headed out. After getting some much needed fuel (gas for the car and coffee for me), I hit the open road. Other than having to drive into the sun, it was a nice trip. No real jerksticks on the highway, and thankfully, no snow. (Last night we got snow, but that's best left to another post.)

I arrived at the courthouse with about ten minutes to spare. I thought I got there early. Early enough to at least get a parking space, that is, but after driving around the lot with no luck, I parked up the street and around the corner. Good thing I decided to wear sneakers and not my high-heel boots. I wasn't chic, but I was comfortable.

After locating where I was supposed to be (What is it with people not giving clear instructions?), I got into line with the rest of the jurors for the trip through the metal detectors. No big deal unless you happen to be standing next to a guy who makes a joke about all the guns he had to leave in his pick-up. You should've seen the look on the officer's face.

"I don't know this guy," I said, with a half-smile on my face. (Okay, yes, I did know him, but if it's a choice between denying my acquaintance and getting frisked, I'm disavowing all knowledge.)

I made it through the metal detector without further incident, only to have them take away my coffee. How's a gal supposed to sit through jury duty without a hot cup of French Vanilla cappucino?? And it was at the perfect sipping temperature, too. I really think that they should've warned us not to bring beverages. The notice said no cell phones and no pocket knives, so why not say 'no beverages', too? I wasn't the only one who lost out, but I should take comfort in the fact that my coffee had company on the lonely table where we were forced to say goodbye.

By the time I got into the courtroom, it was packed. Lucky for me the people of this community seem to have an aversion to the front row - like it was a classroom and sitting in front would get them picked sooner. Feh. I slide onto my own personal bench and commenced reading before the big show began. I made it through the acknowledgements before three large farmers pushed past me and lowered their bulk onto the seat. (And the wood wasn't the only thing groaning in protest, let me tell you. I tried to make myself thinner, but positive thoughts and exhaling only get a gal so far.)

With the jurors uncomfortably ensconced in our judiciary pews, a man looking like Santa Claus after a hard night of drinking took center stage - right in front of me. He began explaining the video we would have to watch about the process, and I was overcome by a wave of halitosis the likes of which would curl the hair on a skunk's butt. I started chewing gum just to convince my nose it wasn's so bad.

So here I am, squeezed between Clem the farmer and a hard oak bench, with Pepe the Baliff hitting every breathy consonant he can manage. Thank goodness the video started before I lost consciousness. Most of what was given in the video could've been gleaned by watching one episode of Law & Order, but I did learn a couple things. 1) If during the jury selection process, you're asked a question you don't feel comfortable answering in public, you can ask to answer it in private. 2) If you have a question for any of the witnesses, you can write it on a piece of paper and hand it in to the judge, who will ask the question for you.

Half an hour later, and the video is over. (And they didn't even hand out popcorn.) At this point I'm starting to be glad they took my coffee away because I have to use the bathroom, and I don't know when they're going to give jurors a potty break. The baliff tells us to relax for a few minutes while the officers of the court finish preparing. Fine by me. I break out the book - hoping in the back of my head that after the defense attorney sees the title, he'll veto me for the trial. (I really didn't think about what a book called Make Her Pay would mean when I took it. It was just next up in my TBR pile.)

Two paragraphs later, the judge arrives and the sheepish look on her face was enough to tell me something wasn't quite right. Then the lawyers arrive, and they all look embarassed. The only person up there who looked at all happy was this skinny guy in a denim shirt and blue jeans. Once the judge proceeds to tell us we're being dismissed, and the prosecutor explains that the victim decided not to testify - locked herself in her house, in fact - I realize why the jeans guy is so smug. He's the defendant.

Objectivity went right out the window after that. Thank goodness I didn't actually have to decide the fate of that guy. His whole attitude seemed to exude 'Neener, neener, neener... you can't catch me'.

Of course, my take on the situation could be wrong, but on the drive home, I concocted the whole scenario of a date rape wherein the woman is too ashamed to testify against her rapist, and the asshole gets away with it. Wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened. On the other hand, he could've looked smug because he was in the right all along and his accuser couldn't face up to the lies she told. After looking at his attitude, though, I'm more inclined to think the former is true.

The best thing about the whole experience was I got some first hand knowledge of what the process is like, and I got some good character studies that may be useful in future stories. The baliff could definitely find his way into a book, and the defendent may work as part of an amalgam to give depth to a villain. Even the prosecutor - who couldn't have been older than 25 - would make a great secondary somewhere along the way.

With names and faces changed to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent, of course.

;o)

Objectivity

I don't have a whole lot of time this morning. Well, not the amount of time I usually have, since I have to be in court by nine. I did want to address a couple things this morning while I do have some time, though, and both have to do with objectivity.

A couple of days ago I posted a link to this whole FTC business. I didn't say much about it, but it's definitely a concerning little piece of government. Read what Janet Reid has to say about it, and then check out the Wired article on the issue. And if you've got a couple hours and a lot of aspirin, read the Official FTC PDF on the rules. Apparently if you receive anything for free and then review it on your private 'citizen' blog, and don't mention that you received it for free, you could be subject to FTC scrutiny and fines.

Like getting a book from an author, which you then read and love and want to tell your blog buddies about. As if the only reason you would be giving the author a good review is because they gave you that book. As if objectivity were impossible in the face of such an extravagant gift.

Umm... yeah.

Of course, according to what I understand of the rules, remuneration doesn't have to be in the form of a freebie. If you're associated or have some type of relationship with the person who wrote the book, and you give them a good review, you have to disclose that, too. Good will and friendship is payment, too, doncha know. Problem is, when I read a book by a person I've got a relationship with - however minimal - it doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to give that person a good review. More often that not, I do, but it's not because I like the person. It's because I like their books.

Anyway, the FTC has stepped in it. Not to mention the government taking just one more little piece of American freedom in the name of protecting it's rube-like citizens. One commenter at Janet Reid's post said something about complying with the rules is no big deal. Of course it isn't a big deal to say where you got the product you reviewed. That isn't the point. It's the principle of the thing.

I admit to not always being the most objective person on the planet. I try, but sometimes I fail. Which brings us around to the second thing I wanted to talk about: Jury duty.

I thought about this off and on since I made the call that told me the court case was actually going to happen and that my presence was needed there this morning. I live in a small town inside a county with a small populous. Everyone knows everyone else in one way or another. (Think 'Six Degress of Kevin Bacon' but more rural.) While I don't get out much and don't circulate amongst the who's who of this place, I know who they are, and frankly, I don't always like the things they do. We have some petty and small minded people in this town. We have drunkards and druggies and petty criminals. What I'm going to have to steel myself against today is Guilt By Association.

Part of being a juror is holding fast to objectivity. Regardless of how I may feel about Barney Assinine and his brood, I can't let myself feel anything regarding anyone with the last name of Assinine. (Because frankly, I think everyone is related to everyone else here - unless they're like me and were raised out of state.) Each person is an individual, and what one person may or may not have done to me and mine isn't cause for damning the whole lot of them.

I'll let you know how I make out.

Have a great day and wish me luck. I think I might need it.