A Thousand Words

by G.M. Malliet

The other day on a writers' listserve the question was asked: Does a writer really need an author photo for the jacket of his/her book? As I recall, the poser of the question (no pun intended) was reluctant to provide her publisher with a photo--either out of modesty or privacy concerns, not because she had two heads or something. I didn't participate in the discussion because, frankly, my immediate thought was, “Yes, of course an author needs a photo!” It wasn't until I thought about it later, though, that I wondered if that were really true.

I have bought hundreds of books without knowing or caring what the author looked like.  I tend to buy books based on reviews, and the occasional recommendation of a friend with similar tastes to mine. Unless it’s a self-help book (Lose ten pounds and ten years!) what the author looks like seems hugely irrelevant.

Having picked up a book while bookstore browsing, I will probably idly flip to the photo on the back. I don't recall ever buying a book on the basis of the photo, however. I may have been turned off if I'm wavering over the purchase and the author looks just a tad too pleased with him/herself, or certifiable, or vaguely illiterate.

I had a lot of fun with author photos in my second book, Death and the Lit Chick, so I may just be asking for it here in asking you to help me decide on mine. But my new editor has asked for a black-and-white for my first book in a new series, and I'm just plain tired of the color photo I've been using. (What was I thinking, with the pearls, anyway? Yikes!) This time, I didn’t want to go for a studio portrait. I just wanted to be, well, myself, wearing pretty much what I wear when I write. No pearls.

This posing business is all much trickier than it appears. First requirement, I would say, is that the author somehow look like a writer rather than a professional ice skater, for example. Many authors fulfill this need by holding a pen or sitting at a computer, although I would maintain that holding a Starbucks cup would be more authentic. Second, the photo should be appropriate for the type of writing the person does--a children's author should probably not scowl, for example. A thriller writer should look thrilling.

And again, while the photo may not cause someone to buy a novel, it should not actively discourage a sale, either. This is someone in whose company you’re going to be spending at least a few hours, after all.

Here are the results of my “photo shoot.” Please cast your vote for 1, 2, 3, or 4 below.

My First Mystery in the Days of Mail

by Julia Buckley
Back when I was a kid--maybe first or second grade--my parents entered me in a children's book-of- the-month club. Of course this was long before e-mail or even computers, so it was when the notion of mail was still almost glamorous, even exotic, to a child who had no correspondents. I looked forward to that brown package every month with great excitement, and when it arrived and I opened it, there was always some great new book inside, with crisp pages and new-smelling ink.

I was reminiscing today about those earliest books--the first ones I read alone. I think the one pictured here--BIG MAX--may have been my first mystery.

Big Max was a wonderful book: the tale of a detective who traveled by umbrella and was hired to solve a case for the King of Pooka Pooka, who had lost his beloved elephant.

I can still remember the joy of getting BIG MAX and reading it again and again, but also the thrill of mystery. I'm not sure if I figured out the ending or not, but I know it was satisfying, even to my seven-year-old self. Eventually I moved on to such sophisticated fare as Nancy Drew and Cherry Ames, and after that I read single-title suspense novels by authors like Mary Stewart, Phyllis A. Whitney and Victoria Holt.

Big Max is still in print and available to a whole new generation of children (and perhaps future mystery lovers). Thank you, Kin Platt, for my first mystery reading experience.

Inkspot News - November 27, 2010

G.M. Malliet will be part of a multiple-author event at Loews Hotel, Annapolis, on Dec. 5. Valet parking available!

Read Between The Wines

@ Read Between the Wines
126 West St, Annapolis, MD

Authors appearing:

Donna Andrews  *  Charlie Boyle  *  Anna Hart and Cherlynn Conetsco  *  Kimbra Cutlip  *  Jon Franklin

Thomas Kaufman  *  Richard LaMotte  *  G.M. Malliet  *  Lisa McCue  *  Ellen Nibali

Sarah Pekkanen  *  Cynthia Polansky  *  Lucia St.Clair Robson  *  Daniel Stashower  *  Marcia Talley

Tickets:  $25 in advance (by Dec 3rd) or $30 at the door

Proceeds benefit the artistic excellence and educational outreach programs of the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra.

A long time ago the Pilgrims sailed,

To find a brand new land.

They wanted to worship God themselves,

Not by the King's command.

So begins an eight-verse epic poem written by yours truly in November of 1971. I was a fifth grader at Norfolk Elementary School in Massachusetts, steeped so deeply in the lore and legend of the Mayflower, Squanto and Governor Bradford that I felt as if I, too, had planted my shiny black-buckled shoe upon the famous Plymouth Rock.

Growing up in the Bay State it was hard to avoid the Pilgrims. The wide-brimmed hat sported by Pilgrim men (called a capotain) was on signage for our highways, the state flower bore the same name as the Pilgrims' sturdy ship, and Plimouth Plantation, the living history museum replicating a 1627 English village and Wampanoag settlement, was the default class trip for hordes of school children, including those of us from Norfolk Elementary.

It's not surprising that a young girl who feverishly penned poems, short stories, soap operas, and magazine advice columns should turn her attention to the most famous immigrants of all.

What is surprising is what happened after I wrote the poem.

I recall the noisy auditorium of the school, the kids antsy to go home for Thanksgiving break, and me, wearing a plaid dress no doubt, ushered by my teacher up to the front of the assembly. Did I read the poem slowly, emphasizing the dramatic moment when the Pilgrims nearly starved? Or did I hurry through the verses, eager to get back to my seat?

Here is what I do remember: knowing deep in my core that I am a writer. It's a feeling as solid as Plymouth Rock itself, one that reviews, contracts, and sales figures can't touch, and for that I am grateful.

Today I'm taking a little detour with my daughter before joining the rest of my family for the holiday. A pilgrimage, if you will, down the coast to Plymouth. Having been born and raised in Maine, my kids missed out on the whole Pilgrim-related indoctrination.

Fortunately it's a heck of a long ride. Happy Thanksgiving!

Revealing The Woman Behind the Curtain

Recently I was incensed by an ignorant blog posting written by Maura Kelly on behalf of Marie Claire magazine. In fact, I was so enraged, it moved me to write a very personal piece on Babble ‘n Blog, my personal blog. The piece was extremely well received.

A short time later, I re-posted several political items from Facebook friends to my Facebook wall. The last re-post was a very short political statement with a very funny picture and statement. All postings triggered several lively discussions. While most of the people commenting on the last post agreed it was humorous, one reader cautioned me to remember that my readers might not believe what I do. That comment also started a lively discussion wherein the consensus was that we all are allowed to believe what we believe and to say what we believe, as long as we are respectful of one another.

But here is the million dollar question:  How much information about ourselves should we, as published authors, put out there?  Of course, we all know better than to post our telephone numbers and home addresses, but what about our personal beliefs?  Will letting readers in on our real selves cause them to flee from our work in droves?  Maybe. After all,  I’ve never viewed Mel Gibson the same since his drunken bigoted tirade, let alone recent accounts of abuse. Others will still flock to his movies.

But I’m not talking about drunken, abusive behavior here, or criminal activities.  I’m talking about basic viewpoints like political affiliations, religious beliefs and social attachments.  Would a reader of any of my series really stop reading my work because I’m a Democrat, a defender of gay rights, and voted in favor of the legalization of pot in California?  Who knows.  It’s not like I’m saying child porn should be distributed on newsstands, but to some folks, I might as well be.

The invasion of social media into our daily lives has allowed authors to be in touch more intimately with their readers, and vise versa.  Many of my readers have written to say they love getting to know me through the shared details of my life. But maybe all this personal information has also shattered images readers have established through the reading of our books.  If we allow it, they get to pull back the curtain and see us as we really are – not wizards at all, but everyday people with everyday lives, loves and heartbreaks, and opinions. 

But when is it too much information?  For some, any glimpse into their personal lives is too much to reveal. While others gladly share a lot. I found it interesting that my sharing the scars of childhood was celebrated, while sharing who I voted for was not.  They are all important pieces of me.

I’ve always been someone who has worn my emotions on my sleeve. I’m not good at facades. They take too much energy to maintain. 

Sue Ann Jaffarian

www.sueannjaffarian.com

Follow me on Facebook and Twitter

Holidays, Food, and Character Traits

Thanksgiving’s in a few days, for Americans. It’s like the "om nom nom" starter’s pistol for the season that lasts through the beginning of January. This is why I finally joined a gym.

I’m a pretty good cook, and I like working in the kitchen. I’ve been saying for years that the first Thanksgiving after my maternal grandmother passed, her spirit touched my hands and gave me her gravy-making skills. Watching that smooth, rich, brown gravy come together exactly as planned was a beautiful moment.

Some of my characters are good cooks. In my first (trunked awaiting rewrite) book, the horror plot was relieved by lots of good cooking. In my Falcone and Driscoll series, not as much, although I do manage to work in how to make homemade Sicilian pizza.

Other hobbies of mine, like knitting and playing musical instruments, aren’t as universal as cooking and eating. After all, Patricia Wentworth created the best detective-who-knits in Miss Silver. Is there a musician detective? I don’t recall one.

I’ve learned a few things as my characters have informed me of their talents and quirks. I know the techniques of cello playing, how to research someone’s ancestry, online RPGs, navel piercing, and all-natural foods.

Have you ever been so interested in a book’s MC that you wanted to learn to do what they do? In my own case, I got so irritated at Miss Silver’s continual “knitting in the Continental manner” that I taught myself that method. (I knit a lot faster now, and two-color knitting is a breeze.) Have you ever researched something for a book and ended up incorporating the skill into your real life?

I’ll be happy to share my recipes with anyone. And then we can head to the gym together.

NUD or NOT?

Darrell James

A few weeks ago, Jimmy Kimmel—on Jimmy Kimmel Live, national television— proclaimed November 17th as NATIONAL UN-FRIEND DAY (NUD) His cause: "to put and end to the foolishness of social networking.” The subsequent campaign that he mounted would have rivaled that of any modern day political incumbent, rallying the support of celebrities and garnering widespread support across university campuses.

Together, on one glorious day, with surgical precision, the aim was to set about, cutting loose all the people, who in a weak and delirious moment of un-sobriety, we so casually and carelessly Friended on Facebook. Stomp out the OMGs, the LOLs. Rid ourselves of Farmville and Mafia War requests (which, well, kind of makes his point.)…

Still, the man was serious (or sort of), because that’s the kind of guy he is. He even went so far as to have War create a music video to underscore his message.

Now, I know that Jimmy has a lot of things to juggle, what with the joke telling and all. So I’m sure that it was a simple oversight on his behalf that he selected November 17th, my BIRTHDAY, as his day of social reckoning. (BTW, Jimmy: I’m still waiting for the card.)

So, as the NUD campaign gained momentum, I began to wonder…

How will it effect my Big Day? Will I wake up on my birthday, expecting well wishes from friends and family, only to find that I am suddenly alone in the cyber universe, adrift, without having a clue who baked brownies today or whose cat is now wearing shoes made of Dixie Cups. OMG, LOL!

As the days ticked down toward, and past, the Ides of November, I began to sweat.

I did I tell you!

For Jimmy had masterfully manipulated the power of the media. And support for NUD had reached viral frenzy…

When the big day finally arrived, I awoke early, grabbed a cup of coffee, and fired up Facebook.

To my joy and wondrous surprise (something like Christmas) not only had I NOT lost any of my Facebook Friends, but there were two welcome requests for Friendship waiting. And, the birthday wishes had already begun rolling in.

Now, it’s my custom (call it my creed) that if someone writes me a personal message on Facebook, I always respond with a personal reply. Well, the birthday wishes kept coming, and so did a few more requests for Friendship (that I happily accepted). Family, writer friends, reader friends, and those who I have found or have found me through the marvel of modern technology. They poured in from across the country, from Canada, from Italy, from Germany, and as far away as Queensland Australia. And before the day was over I had responded to more than 140 birthday greetings. All Friends.

I tuned in to Jimmy Live that evening (which BTW: isn’t really ‘live” at all….just sayin’). He was still claiming victory, even showing a tote board to display the grand tally of Unfriended.

Well, perhaps, somewhere in the distant cyberspace, there are those souls who have been banished to “Un-Friend Land”. My heart goes out to them. To you, huddled masses, misfortunates of cyber-warfare, I say: “Come over to my Facebook page. There’s always room for one more, or two more, or however many more of you there might be…Come! (At least until I hit my 5000 friend limit.)

As for you Mr. Jimmy (the Kimmel, who doesn’t even have a Facebook page) when your heart finally thaws and you find yourself alone on your cyber iceberg, with only a few discarded Farmville and Mafia War friends to drink with, take out a page. Send me a request. I’ll welcome you in. Because… well… because that’s the kind of guy I am… I got Friends!

Thanks for all the birthday wishes, Facebook Buddies!

Bells and Buzz

For years I worked in human resources, and one of my biggest challenges was getting managers to complete their employees’ performance reviews in a timely and effective manner. While emphasizing the positives, managers had to include “Here's what you could do better.” Hard message to deliver when almost everybody thinks they’re giving their all and wants the bigger raise tied to the performance rating.

Of course, performance ratings should be tied to objective, measurable goals. One time I joined a company that used a very subjective essay style of performance appraisals. In an appraisal for a dentist, I read one sentence summing up her skills and three sentences about the wonderful kuchen she baked for the department. Geez Louise. I had to laugh, but we changed the company’s rating methodology pretty darn quick.

Training for performance reviews always included the instructions that any employee who was meeting expectations should be rated a “3.” In fact, most ratings should be a “3.” Remember the bell curve in statistics? Any manager who rated their employees all fives or even all fours was not doing their job—and, yeah, I was the one who got to tell them that.

But now I’m an author, and I’m looking at all my ratings on Amazon and Goodreads. It’s a little harder to be happy with a “3” even though I should be. Ratings affect sales. Sales might be higher if everyone rated my books “5” or even “4.” Now I prefer the fives, appreciate the fours, welcome the threes, and tolerate a couple twos.

I’m happy people are taking the time to rate my book. It creates buzz, or at least the beginnings of the “b” sound. Ratings mean I have readers. Readers are good. Readers who publish ratings are even better. Readers who publish reviews are the most interesting. Of course, they’re a little like the kuchen—very subjective. But then writing is subjective: to tastes, to trends, to popularity, etc.

So I’m going with the old adage: There’s no such thing as bad publicity. Ratings and reviews are publicity. Therefore, I love them, regardless.

And I’m going to love my bell curve, too.