Like, Try, Why

by Michelle Gagnon

My publisher has a new community called, "Epic Reads," which has an awesome feature. Every week they post a "Like, Try, Why" where they pick a few uber-popular books (or TV shows, or movies) and offer suggestions for the perfect follow-up read. This is so perfect for someone like me, who tends to start reading more and more slowly as I approach the end of a book that I'm loving; and I get downright teary when the book ends and there's nothing else like it on my TBR pile.

So here's an example of one of their recent "Like, Try, Whys":

Too perfect, right?  Because once I'd run through everything Kristin Cashore had written, I was in such a fantasy groove I really wanted something similar, but for once Goodreads wasn't coming through for me.
And now, I know: The Girl of Fire and Thorns.



So for a fun exercise today, see if you can come up with at least one, "Like, Try, Why." Doesn't have to be long, in fact the more concise your "why" is, the better!

Anyway, here's mine:

If you Like:                                 Try:                                                                                            

WHY:
Because Banished is dark and so well-written, with a slightly misfit heroine who's just discovering that she not only has powers, but that there are evil forces keen to use her for them, and that in fact she's part of a powerful legacy. And the sequel, Unforsaken, is awesome too!

Really hoping this provides more fuel for my TBR pile!

xoM

The Last Word

A few nights ago, I participated via Internet in a big teen lock-in and got a question I hear frequently: why did I choose to end ASHES the way I did?  Now, for those of you who haven't read the book, never fear.  I won't ruin it by telling you HOW it ends.  Let's just say that I broke several rules, and I did that on purpose.  In fact, the end breaks enough rules that a recent Horn Book article talked specifically about this: that the "shocking" conclusion was among the "coolest" examples of an author being "daring enough (or heartless enough, depending on your tolerance for sad endings) to let their protagonists face seemingly insurmountable obstacles and find that they are, indeed, just that." 


Which is pretty darned cool in and of itself.


But, back to the question.  Why did I do that?  Well, whenever I'm asked, I always ask the question right back, not because I'm being coy but I want to hear what or how people think/feel/react.  The answer I hear most frequently is that I did it to make people buy the sequel.  EEEEHHHH!  Wrong.  (Although it's true that my editor and I went back and forth about this--he was a tad nervous about breaking SO many rules--when I explained why, he was right on board.)  Some people think I'm trying to be shocking just for the sake of being shocking, and that's also wrong, but it's a tad closer to what I was thinking and trying to convey.  Going for that emotional gut-punch isn't far off.


Let's think, though, about what good beginnings and endings do for us.  A great beginning grabs our attention, right?  But a fabulous beginning sentence or paragraph also sets the tone for the novel; it hints at what's in store.  For example, one of my favorite beginning lines of all time belongs to William Gibson's cyberpunk classic, Neuromancer:  "The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."  Oh, my goodness, is that evocative or what?  You instantly "see" that sky; you know what color it is; you also know that we're talking a lot of light and tech because only a ton of light--and that means, a big city--has the ability to wash out a black sky and bright stars.  (Or skies are muddy orange; I've noticed this in places like New York, where I wonder if people even remember that looking up is fun to do.)  Regardless, that line sets up the entire book.  You've garnered tons of information from fifteen words.  Fifteen.  That's amazing.


Similarly, a great last line (or last couple of lines) sends the reader and the book on her way, and if the writer is very skilled, evokes the mood the writer wants you to walk away with.  For example, at the end of Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak, poor mute Melinda, who's found not only courage and closure but her voice, has the last word: "Let me tell you about it."  


Hand's down, though, I think that Libba Bray is fabulous at these type of send-off last lines/last paragraphs, and IMHO, her best work can be found in her Gemma Doyle series.  All her last lines are great, but my particular favorites (lines and paragraphs) can be found at the end of A Strange and Terrible Beauty: 


"The wind shifts, bringing with it the smell of roses, strong and sweet.  Across the ravine, I see her in the dry crackle of leaves.  A deer. She spies me and bolts through the trees.  I run after her, not really giving chase.  I'm running because I can, because I must.  


Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop."   


This is a perfect send-off for that first book because it is all about beginnings and a young woman daring to break the rules.  This end does, in fact, set up the beginning of the next book and helps you understand where this series is headed.


Most often, when I reach the end of a book I'm writing, I know what the last line is because I knew it from the beginning, and the whole book has been a journey to that last line.  The one time I was a little surprised by where I ended up was at the end of SHADOWS, not because the line hadn't been "said" in my head already but because it wasn't the last line/scene but the penultimate scene.  When I got to the end, though, and penned what I had imagined the last line ought to be, it just didn't feel right.  Just didn't.  I realized after a few minutes that the book's journey had really ended the scene before.  So I switched them around, and now I do think that SHADOWS ends in a way that both evokes what I want to people to feel and summarizes the journey.  (I'm sure you'll tell me if I'm right.)


But back to ASHES: this is the G-d's honest truth about why I ended it the way I did.  It's actually kind of artsy-fartsy, but my reasoning went like this: ASHES is a book about what happens when the world falls apart.  Nothing remains that you recognize; all the niceties are swept away.  Alex has to endure in that world, where all the old rules no longer apply.  So my feeling was if she has to do that, why should you get a break?  I wanted you to experience the same kind of shock and dislocation she does, that moment when you finally, truly understand that nothing will ever be the same again.


That's why I did it.  Do I succeed?  I dunno; you tell me.  But I sure hear enough from people who are FRANTIC to find out what happens next; who are so shocked and upset they want to yell and scream at me (that's fine; just be civil); who think about throwing their books or Kindles across the room (some actually do).  All that's good because that means you felt something.  You weren't indifferent.  You weren't . . . oh, cool.  You were . . . SAY WHAT?


All good.  Mission accomplished.  That you care is all and the best a writer can hope for.

The Most Mortifying Moment of My Life

by Michelle Gagnon

Pre-faint. I fell into the lap of the woman yawning behind me. She sure woke up quick...

One of my all-time favorite books (and a popular gift for friends who write) is called, MORTIFICATION: WRITERS' STORIES OF THEIR PUBLIC SHAME.

It includes vignettes from such storied authors as Roddy Doyle, Michael Ondaatje, and Val McDermid on the most embarrassing experiences they've ever had during their writing careers. For example, did you know that Margaret Atwood's first-ever book signing took place in the Men's Socks and Underwear section of a department store? Or that some of Chuck Palahniuk's fans started throwing dinner rolls at him during an event in San Francisco? And apparently Stephen King was once forced to sign so many books that his fingers cracked and started to bleed.

Up until last October, my most mortifying moment as an author occurred at a local bookstore, when not a single person showed up for my reading.

And then along came Litquake.
Litquake is San Francisco's premier literary festival, a week-long celebration of the written word that features hundreds of authors reading at dozens of events. More than 16,000 people attended last year. Being asked to participate is a big deal, particularly for one of the most coveted spots.
And for the 2011 series, I was included in a great one, entitled, "These Mean Streets: Reality and Fiction Collide."
I was the only woman appearing on a slate with a former mob informant; the terrific writer, working PI, and all around great writer David Corbett; and a slew of other big names. The event was being held at Tosca Cafe, one of my favorite bars in San Francisco.

All in all, it was shaping up to be an exciting evening. Thanks largely to the fact that the event would be happening in a bar, I even managed to convince several friends who don't ordinarily attend readings to come along.

You can never predict how big the crowd will be at one of these events, but that night, Tosca was packed. Standing room only, easily a couple hundred people in the room.

I was nervous, and hadn't slept terribly well the night before. Too nervous to eat very much all day, in fact. So I did what any sane person would do--I drank a glass of wine to calm myself down.
I was scheduled to be the third reader of the evening. I sat through the first two, my mouth dry, palms slick with sweat, tapping the pages of my chapter on the table (to the growing irritation of my friends).

And then, it was my turn.

I've performed in hundreds of dance performances, and have participated in dozens of author events over the past few years. One thing I know: the minute I get up there, the nervousness dissipates and I'm fine.
So there I was, standing in front of a microphone with a spotlight bearing down on me, facing this hot, crowded room.

Initially, everything was clipping along just fine. I read the first few pages of my chapter, and the crowd seemed appreciative--at least, no one was heckling or throwing things at me.

In the middle of page five, the words started swimming before my eyes. I paused and tried hard to force them back into focus. They refused to cooperate. I realized that for the space of at least a minute, I hadn't said anything. Panicking, I tried to collect myself. I stood up tall, found my place, and got through another paragraph.

I've never fainted before in my life--never even came close. But next thing I know, I'm lying on my back with a total stranger inches from my face, yelling, "Were you locking out your knees?"

Which even in retrospect doesn't seem to be the first thing you should ask someone who has just passed out cold.

Thankfully, there was an open booth behind me. According to my friends (who delighted in detailing the exact order of events after I'd recovered slightly), I said, "I'm dizzy," then sat down hard in the booth behind me. After which I proceeded to plummet ungracefully into the lap of the woman occupying the banquette (featured in the photo above, right before we became much better acquainted).
And of course, this was the one and only time that I'd decided to wear a dress for a reading. Meaning that I pretty much flashed the entire audience. Thank God I was wearing tights.

My friends helped me outside and plied me with glasses of water and relatively fresh air (there were a lot of smokers around). Strangers came out to check on me. The rest of the reading proceeded inside; sadly, I missed most of it. As a favor, the event organizers let me get up and finish my story at the very end of the evening.

A week later, during the closing party, Litquake impresario Jack Boulware informed me that they've never had an author faint before--apparently it was the talk of the organizing committee. So much so that they're debating naming an honorary award after me next year. Word is still out on whether it will be bestowed for passing out or remaining conscious.

So now, should the editors of MORTIFICATION ever contact me, I can assuredly put Stephen King's most embarrassing moment to shame.

I'd love to hear about your most mortifying experience, either during and event or really, at any point in your life. Please. It will make me feel better.

Side note: My publisher just released a FREE prequel novella that includes a sneak preview of my upcoming release DON'T TURN AROUND. It can be downloaded to pretty much any eReader or smartphone out there by clicking here.

The One Place I Always Feel At Home

by Jennifer Archer

"A library is a good place to go when you feel unhappy, for there, in a book, you may find encouragement and comfort." -E.B. White

There’s a scene in my novel THROUGH HER EYES, in which sixteen-year-old Tansy, on her first day at a new high school, escapes to a remote corner of the library during the lunch hour to avoid having to eat alone in the cafeteria. When I wrote that scene, I knew exactly what Tansy was feeling because I once did the very same thing. I moved to a new city and started a new school at the beginning of my junior year in high school, and I hid out in the library during my lunch period for the first several days. 

Everything at Amarillo High School felt foreign and unfamiliar to me – except the library. The second I stepped into that hushed room full of books, I experienced a sense of calm and comfort. I’d found the one place in the building where I could let down my guard, relax, and just be myself. I was surrounded by old friends – the hundreds of characters I’d come to know through years of reading.

Since then, my fondness for libraries has only grown stronger. There was a time when I even entertained the idea of becoming a librarian. I’m sure that career involves stressors that only those who do the job can understand, but I still fantasize sometimes about spending my days amongst the shelves and stacks. Such a peaceful workplace seems a rarity in our hustle-bustle world. But libraries and librarians offer us so much more than a place of calm. They provide information on a variety of topics, learning materials, and entertainment. I can spend hours in a library and never get bored.

Because I can’t imagine life without libraries, I wondered how they came to be such a fixture in our American communities so I did a little research.  According to History Magazine: 

“The oldest library in America began with a 400-book donation by a Massachusetts clergyman, John Harvard, to a new university that eventually honored him by adopting his name. Another clergyman, Thomas Bray from England, established the first free lending libraries in the American Colonies in the late 1600s. Subscription libraries - where member dues paid for book purchases and borrowing privileges were free - debuted in the 1700s. In 1731, Ben Franklin and others founded the first such library, the Library Company of Philadelphia. The initial collection of the Library of Congress was in ashes after the British burned it during the War of 1812. The library bought Thomas Jefferson's vast collection in 1815 and used that as a foundation to rebuild. It wasn't until waves of immigration and the philosophy of free public education for children that public libraries spread in the US. The first public library in the country opened in Peterborough, New Hampshire, in 1833. Philanthropist Andrew Carnegie helped build more than 1,700 public libraries in the US between 1881 and 1919.”

Sometime after the Civil War (approximately 1876), the American Library Association was founded, and Melvil Dewey developed and published a method of classifying and organizing materials within libraries called the Dewey Decimal Classification System. During this period, the profession of “librarian” became more recognized with Katharine Sharp’s involvement in the founding of the library school at the University of Illinois. Mr. Dewey recommended Ms. Sharp for the job, and she is now considered to be one of the most important library educators in American history.  

In the decades since, libraries have changed and adapted with the times. Computers, the internet, the e-reader – all have altered the way libraries operate. But one thing hasn’t changed since the late 1600’s when the first lending libraries in America opened their doors: Libraries and librarians strengthen our communities and enrich our lives.  

~I am honored to have been chosen as a Featured Author for The Spirit of Texas Reading Program – Middle School during the upcoming school year.  This Texas Library Association sponsored program is in its first year. The TLA website states:

“The original idea for the Spirit of Texas Reading Program came from Texas author, Andrea White. Mrs. White envisioned a more robust, dynamic relationship between Texas libraries and Texas authors/ illustrators where authors and illustrators constantly came into Texas libraries either in person or via the internet to talk to students about their books and the writing process. With the help of librarians Natasha Benway (South Regional Public Library), Rose Brock (Coppell ISD), Renee Dyer (Weslaco ISD), and Jennifer Smith (East Central ISD), Mrs. White’s original idea was further developed to include an interactive website, original programming by Texas librarians, and annual awards for Texas authors/illustrators. The Spirit of Texas Reading Program began in 2011. The name “Spirit of Texas” was chosen because the program hopes to encourage a greater understanding of what it means to be a Texan and an appreciation for the literary works of and about Texas and Texans.”

For more information about this wonderful program, visit the Spirit of Texas website.