Book-Nerds vs. Science-Geeks

This is one that’s been on my mind for a while. While labeling individuals is rarely productive, I often ponder certain categories or types (recognizing the variability within any given category). So first, let’s define our terms.

A book-nerd is pretty straightforward—someone who loves books. They devour books, possibly spending more on them than they do on food. Generally, book-nerds are somewhat eclectic in their tastes, sampling everything from literary fiction to romance to horror to non-fiction. They worship the written word.

A science-geek (and for the sake of this post, I’m going to include math-geeks, even though they don’t always coincide) is analytical, loves technology, and wants to know how everything around them works. They are often (but not always) big readers as well, possibly to the same extend as many book-nerds.

In fact, there is some overlap between the two groups. I know some science-geeks who are definitely book-nerds. What I want to talk about is another subset of the geeks—those who do read, but don’t qualify as book-nerds.

These are people who read voraciously, but probably don’t have much interest in Shakespeare, Dickens, or anything else considered classic. Probably not much in the field of literary fiction, either. Doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate literary qualities, but more often than not, they’ll be reading (you guessed it) science fiction and fantasy.

What’s important to these readers? For one thing, consistency in all aspects. Heaven help you if you commit a continuity error. For another, worlds and characters worth coming back to—thus the ubiquitous serial nature of the genres. They also want what every other reader wants—a good story with proper development.

It seems like the YA publishing industry is dominated by book-nerds. That’s okay, and probably as it should be. After all, they need to make their living on books, so it’s best if they love them, preferably in wide variety. But sometimes I wonder if even agents who rep the speculative fiction genres are part of the book-nerd/science-geek overlap and don’t necessarily get the straight-up science-geek readers.

It’s kind of like the film industry. Traditionally, a sci-fi or fantasy movie will only get respect for effects, makeup, costumes, and maybe music. Some people assume that the fans don’t care about good screenwriting or acting as long as there are enough explosions. So the budget goes toward effects and explosions. Character development is glossed over. The end result might make money, but gets little respect.

There is a place for science-geeks in the world of literature, though. And I’m always excited when I find an excellent book that speaks to that part of me (rather than the book-nerd part … I’m an overlapper in some respects). I’m always on the lookout for more. Books that use sci-fi or fantasy elements as more than window dressing, but still have a great story at the core.

Got any recommendations?

Humility is Sexy

Disclaimer: I’m not a literary agent. I don’t really know what they think, beyond the thoughts they put out there on their blogs and Twitter feeds. (I do not listen to the haters who think agents are an elitist clan of devil spawn who take joy in crushing the dreams of aspiring writers.)

But I think they would agree with the title of this post. Let me explain why.

First, you have to understand humility. Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t beating up on yourself. It isn’t saying your writing is crap, especially right after someone has complimented it. It is not a lack of confidence. I grew up with this simple definition:

You can definitely believe you know a few things while acknowledging there’s room to know more. I have a student who epitomizes this. With all her accomplishments, she could easily have the biggest head on campus. Yet bragging would never occur to her. She does what she does, no big deal, but if you compliment her, she’ll thank you.

She doesn’t tell you all the reasons why your compliment is misplaced.

So, why do I suspect agents find humility sexy? I’m sure they want confident writers who believe in their ability (well, most of the time—we all have moments of doubt) and don’t have to be talked down from the ledge every other day. Confidence is not the opposite of humility—arrogance is.

We’ve all seen arrogant aspiring writers. The ones who lash out at anyone who dares criticize their masterpiece. Who insist it’s your fault for being dense if you can’t keep track of their fifteen different narrators. Who don’t care if you tell them word counts much over 100k make publishing pros twitchy—not a single word can be cut from their 450k word debut thriller. Who say they will never change X about their novel (title, character’s name, their vision of printing the whole thing in Comic Sans) no matter what a publisher says.

It ain’t sexy.

(Okay, those were extreme examples, but even when you scale them back, I’m thinking they’re not too attractive.)

Humble writers do their research on the publishing industry and don’t blame ‘the system’ for all their problems. They handle critique like a pro, not giving in to every beta reader’s whim, but being open to possible improvement. They’ll aspire for greatness, knowing there will always be more to learn, and never claiming they’ve already arrived and why haven’t you acknowledged it yet?!

Is there anything that helps you find the balance, neither tearing yourself down nor puffing yourself up? Working with my tailor-made, long-term critique partners helps me—more on that soon.

What Writing YA is Really Like

Oh, my. It’s the summer of Let’s Insult YA Authors, Readers, and Teenagers in General.

First, there was this now-infamous article in the Wall Street Journal. It could have had some valid points, but if so, they got obscured in sweeping generalizations. (BTW, I shop at Barnes & Noble all the time, I live in the YA section, and I find all kinds of books that aren’t dark or about “vampires and suicide and self-mutilation.” In fact, I regularly walk out with books that just about any parent would find appropriate for a 13-year-old.)

Then there was this rather odd article titled “Writing Young-Adult Fiction” by Katie Crouch and Grady Hendrix (co-authors of The Magnolia League). Their backgrounds are in literary fiction and journalism, respectively, and they got tagged to write their YA novel. The article seems like it should be about what it says—writing YA fiction. By the end, I wasn’t sure what it was about, other than their book.

I began to feel like something strange was going on with this line:

It would be creepy if we included explicit sex scenes with glistening young skin and heaving young bosoms, but we keep it on the clean side. This isn’t Twilight. No slutty werewolves here.

Um, I’ve read Twilight—the whole series, in fact. As I recall, there’s one off-page sex scene in the fourth book. So I began to suspect that these authors haven’t read the books. If they haven’t read those, do they know anything about the YA market, really?

Then they mention how odd it is that they’re “being paid good money to be literary predators and come for people’s children.” Now I get the feeling they don’t know many (any?) teenagers in real life, either.

Overall, it seems their experience of writing a YA novel was a lot of giggling and silliness and hurry-up-and-get-it-done-ness. Writing their own wish-fulfillment fantasy, the “high-school experience we never had.”

Okay, that’s their experience. Good for them.

I haven’t gotten paid for my YA writing yet, but I think I’ve done enough now to speak to my own experience. Here’s what YA writing is like for me.

I live in fear of letting my students down. My students range from 14 to 21, and they read almost exclusively YA (aside from what their English teachers assign them). They are my little microcosm of the YA market, from voracious to reluctant readers, straight-A students to strugglers, jocks to theater geeks—with a ton of overlap within and between categories.

I’ve had students literally slam a book down during silent reading time. They hate it when characters do stupid things just for the sake of the plot—and yes, they do notice. They hate feeling talked-down to. They loathe dialogue that feels like a trying-too-hard adult wrote it.

You know what they like? Some actually like a clever turn of phrase, a well-crafted description. One girl asked me to recommend a book that would help push her vocabulary and comprehension. (I recommended The Monstrumologist.) Some want to be writers themselves. They like characters that are complex and twist stereotypes. They like stories that feel real, even (or especially) when they involve fantastic elements.

So I work my butt off. I draft, revise, run it by readers (both students and adult YA readers/writers), and revise again. Whatever I can do to make it real. If you didn’t figure it out already, I talk to teens (students, cousins, whatever) about books. I talk to them about life.

I talk to them like they’re people … because they are.

There’s the key, I think. I’ve known some (well-meaning) teachers who talk to teens like they’re still in elementary school. Teens aren’t adults yet, but they also aren’t children. I’ve found they’ll usually live up to high expectations … or down to low ones.

The best YA authors (and I’m certainly not placing myself among them) have high expectations for their readers. The read can be light or dark, funny or intense, about mermaids or cutting.

Just respect your readers. They’re pretty smart cookies … even the ones who don’t like math class. 😉

Potential Pitfalls: Writing Blind (v2.0)

Perhaps some of you wondered why this post was labeled “v1.0” … here’s the answer.

There’s another way of interpreting “writing blind” beyond an awareness of the audience—awareness of the plot.

If you’ve been hanging around online writers’ communities, you’re probably familiar with the terms planner and pantser. It’s not so much “either-or” as it is a spectrum. On the extreme planner end you have writers who outline chapter by chapter, construct copious background notes, and have everything clearly laid out before they write the first scene. On the other end, you have writers who truly fly by the seat of their pants. They sit down with just the barest seed of an idea—maybe the main character, or a slice of a premise—and start writing.

At that extreme pantser end of things, we run the risk of writing blind. Having no idea where the plot is going, and thus writing scenes that go nowhere.

Even at that extreme, this pitfall is still only potential. If we recognize that major editing will be required after the first draft, once the story has found its shape, it can work out just fine. But there’s a key:

Somewhere along the way, we’re not writing blind anymore.

At some point, we have to figure out where we’re going. Otherwise, we’re going to end up with 200k words of episodic scenes and no end in sight. Characters may still throw curve-balls, unexpected twists may emerge, changes may be required. That’s all okay and part of the fun. But we need to get a bead on the main conflict and resolving it.

Of course, being a super-extreme planner … well, that’s another potential pitfall.

All you pantsers out there, what methods do you apply to your madness? What’s your editing process like once the first draft is done?

The Hunger Pangs—Bonus!

Thanks to those of you who’ve been reading “The Hunger Pangs” over the past couple of weeks. I’m sure my student appreciates the kind comments. She also wrote the following list of Eiffie’s Rules of the Hunger Games. Hope you like it!

1. I will not call Katniss “Robin Hood.”

2. I will not ask Plutarch Heavensbee if his house is black and yellow.

3. Gale is not Taylor Lautner.

4. I will not sing “The Hanging Tree” to Katniss’s mom or the Gallows.

5. I will not call Finnick “Percy Jackson” or “Poseidon.”

6. I will not say “crazy” in front of Annie.

7. I will not ask Katniss where her band of Merry Men is.

8. No, Peeta will not make a free cake for you.

9. I will not ask the Gamemakers to play Chutes and Ladders with me.

10. Do not call President Snow “Snow White.”

11. Do not cross out Bird in the book To Kill a Mockingbird and replace it with “Jay” and give it to Katniss.

12. Do not call Glimmer “Britney Spears.”

13. Do not attempt to stand in the rain hungry outside Peeta’s house and hope he will give you bread and fall in love with you.

14. I will not set Katniss on fire and call her “the girl on fire” while she’s screaming.

15. Do not say, “Look! It’s Taylor Lautner!” to [redacted] when it’s actually Gale.

16. I will not call Katniss “Tweety.”

17. I will not wear my “Down with the Capitol!” T-shirt to the Capitol.

18. District 13 is not the setting of Resident Evil.

19. President Coin isn’t on the quarter, and don’t call her “George Washington.”

20. Don’t call Prim “House,” or her mother, for that matter.

21. Don’t tell Cinna that you like Ralph Lauren better.

22. I will not play with Katniss’s bow or Finnick’s trident.

23. Don’t tell Peeta that he can “frost your cake any day.”

24. Don’t call Beetee “Jimmy Neutron.”

25. The Arena isn’t a place to watch hockey.

26. I will not call the Mutts “Scooby Doo.”

27. I will not sell morphling to Johanna Mason.

28. Don’t call Darius “Darius Rucker” and expect him to sing country songs.

29. I will not call the Peacekeepers “hippies.”

30. Don’t try to see Finnick Odair in his underwear.

Short Story: The Hunger Pangs (Part Nine)

And now, the conclusion!

Part Nine: The Beginning of the End

A bunch of centaurs with spears charge towards Pita and me, forcing us out of the cave.

“This is the entrance to Narnia! Do you guys belong in Narnia? No!” a centaur rants at us.

The centaurs keep chasing us until we’re by the Cornastupia. Pita and I hide in the golden horn so the centaurs can’t get to us. However, Baito and Blove come towards the Cornastupia since they’re being chased by a pack of werewolves.

“Aaah! We’re being chased by Jacob’s pack of werewolves!” Baito screams.

Sure enough, Jacob and his werewolf pack from Twilight are after Baito and Blove, and they quickly overtake them.

“That’ll teach you to mess with Bella!” Jacob yells.

“But we didn’t mess with Bella, we just asked who she was!” Baito screeches. Baito and Blove are both pretty bloodied up and they look miserable. I take out my bow and arrows. I head over to the pack of wolves and shoot both Baito and Blove in the head.

“Hey, thanks for killing them for us!” Jacob says.

I nod, and soon the wolf pack goes away. Pita and I are the only contestants left. I don’t want to kill Pita. He just stopped being annoying.

“Katnip, I don’t want to kill you,” Pita admits.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“There can only be one winner,” the voice in the sky says.

I walk over to a bush of berries. They’re nightlock berries, and they’ll kill you when they hit your stomach. I hand Pita a berry and keep one for myself, and we both swallow them.

We die. Take that, Crapitol!

* * * * *

Hope you enjoyed it. And finally: Eiffie’s Rules of the Hunger Games.