A reader's comment jolted me into the realization that I haven't blogged here since last December. Whaaaa? Truth is I forgot I even had a blog - much less that anyone would be reading it. (hey, but I have ten followers. Guys, let's plan an intimate get-together at a nice restaurant). So, what's up? Well, I was very, very late turning in the manuscript for the second Monstrumologist book. So late, in fact, that I think my editor was beginning to doubt it was ever going to happen. Is it as scary as the first book? Hmmm. Maybe in a different, more soul-shaking sort of way. I would definitely say it's not as gory. There is gore, natch, but it doesn't appear quite as frequently. More of an angsty sort of horror story than in your face blood and guts. It did freak me a little while writing it, and on the whole I think it's better written than the first - with a story that's more linear and less damned talky.
What else? Well, on the Alfred front - nothing. Nada. Poor Al. Always had high hopes for that kid.
What else? Oh, I have learned it is very unwise to Google yourself.
I am going to Washington in a couple weeks to pick up the Printz Honor at the ALA annual conflab. That will be nice, but I doubt not near as nice as the night I came home after getting the word and being surprised by my wonderful wife and son with a homemade sign. I actually cried.
I am also now currently looking for a real job, because this writing thing just ain't panning out the way I had hoped it would six years ago when I thought I was that good. If anyone stumbles across this and you're looking for an underpaid freelancer to join your team, drop me a line. I do really good work for almost no money (and I have the royalty statements to prove it).
Anyway, beginning work now on the third installment of the monster series, and hopefully this one will get to the publisher on time.
Got the blogging done. As Forrest would say, "One less thing."
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Author Strikes Back! (Again!)
Here's an oldie but a goodie. I remember when I read this I printed it off and ran (literally) to my wife, crying out that I and my new series were DOOMED.
By far, critics have been at their most wicked when it comes to Teddy Ruzak, a character I first envisioned long before I ever published my first novel. He's been with me for a very long time and, since he is mine, I feel a little protective of him.
Plus the fact that this reviewer is a total bitch.
Here it is (in italics - my replies in bold)
Teddy Ruzak spends the first chapter of THE HIGHLY EFFECTIVE DETECTIVE telling us about all the fictional detectives he emulated as a child. But by the time he starts his own agency he's completely oblivious to the need for training, experience, or a license. This is your first clue that Yancey is putting humor over plot. The unlicensed agency is named The Highly Effective Detection and Investigation Company because Ruzak thinks the acronym is clever -- which clues you in about the quality of that humor.
Actually, there were only TWO he mentions. When I went to school, the elements of fiction were character, plot and setting. In terms of plot, there was exposition, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution. In short, you cannot "put" humor over plot. Either the plot is humorous or it is not. Bitch.
The first client isn't bothered by THE DIC's amateur status because he knows that a more professional agency would refuse to handle his case. He's seen an SUV mow down goslings crossing the road and he wants 'the murderer' brought to justice. With the help of a waitress-turned-secretary and a sympathetic deputy, Ruzak does his best to trace the car. It turns out to be the getaway vehicle in a kidnap and murder case, although for a large portion of the book it doesn't seem as though that crime is being seriously investigated.
Both the title and the blurb on the back aim at fans of Monk, "The Defective Detective," so I'm going to go with that parallel. I've watched Monk and you, Teddy Ruzak, are no Adrian Monk. Monk is a savvy and experienced ex-police officer. His quirks might be played for broad humor, but they are also unmistakably portrayed as the problems of a damaged, mentally ill man.
Okay. My character is a damaged, emotionally ill man. And technically it is not a parallel, only a comparison or similarity. A parallel would be . .. oh never mind.
Ruzak, on the other hand, is just ignorant and idle. He passively lets things sweep along, "waiting for a break in the case or a break in the monotony of my life." The book is much longer and slower than it needed to be because, as Ruzak admits, "I'm too trusting and maybe a little lazy."
He solves the case by outwitting the bad guy. No wait. He outwits TWO bad guys. Not bad for someone ignorant and idle. You are taking a single sentence out of context to prove a point that is contrary to how the book actually turns out. Politicians, certain talk show hosts and a slew of preachers do this - you, as a reviewer, never should. It is ignorant. And it is lazy. Perhaps the character reminds you of yourself and that's why you have such open animosity toward him. I'm not shrink, but that's how it strikes me. Plus, I have a deep suspicion that you are, like Ruzak, somewhat on the rotund side.
Those are terrible character traits for a detective, and the characters around him aren't that sympathetic either. For instance, my interest in Felicia the secretary waned quickly at her many absences and disappeared entirely when she laughed at the description of a crushed, dying bird.
The absences you are referring to regarding this unsympathetic character are as a result of her being a single mom trying to raise a mentally handicapped kid. Boy, talk about unsympathetic! No wonder you hate her!
In summary, there's barely any action, a blindingly obvious mystery, and a main character who, in his own words "barely possessed the intellectual wherewithal to tie his own shoes."
Um, the character didn't say that. It was another character. Facts! Accuracy! I understand you were having a great time roasting my character alive and doing your utmost to dissuade readers from buying my book, thus depriving me of a livelihood and everything, but there were plenty of REAL flaws in the book you might have pointed out. Instead, you made it clear that one, you do not like single moms with mentally challenged children; two, you do not like humor (especially when it's sprinkled over plot like powdered sugar); and three, you do not like trusting people and you view it as a character flaw.
The last thing I would like to point out is "blindingly obvious" is one of the weirdest expressions I've ever heard. If something is obvious, doesn't that mean you can see it clearly? How about "glitteringly obvious" or "Obviously obvious"?
Oops, I'm putting humor over my Reply.
By far, critics have been at their most wicked when it comes to Teddy Ruzak, a character I first envisioned long before I ever published my first novel. He's been with me for a very long time and, since he is mine, I feel a little protective of him.
Plus the fact that this reviewer is a total bitch.
Here it is (in italics - my replies in bold)
Teddy Ruzak spends the first chapter of THE HIGHLY EFFECTIVE DETECTIVE telling us about all the fictional detectives he emulated as a child. But by the time he starts his own agency he's completely oblivious to the need for training, experience, or a license. This is your first clue that Yancey is putting humor over plot. The unlicensed agency is named The Highly Effective Detection and Investigation Company because Ruzak thinks the acronym is clever -- which clues you in about the quality of that humor.
Actually, there were only TWO he mentions. When I went to school, the elements of fiction were character, plot and setting. In terms of plot, there was exposition, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution. In short, you cannot "put" humor over plot. Either the plot is humorous or it is not. Bitch.
The first client isn't bothered by THE DIC's amateur status because he knows that a more professional agency would refuse to handle his case. He's seen an SUV mow down goslings crossing the road and he wants 'the murderer' brought to justice. With the help of a waitress-turned-secretary and a sympathetic deputy, Ruzak does his best to trace the car. It turns out to be the getaway vehicle in a kidnap and murder case, although for a large portion of the book it doesn't seem as though that crime is being seriously investigated.
The above paragraph is a description of PLOT. However, certain elements that are described here are humorous. Hah!
Both the title and the blurb on the back aim at fans of Monk, "The Defective Detective," so I'm going to go with that parallel. I've watched Monk and you, Teddy Ruzak, are no Adrian Monk. Monk is a savvy and experienced ex-police officer. His quirks might be played for broad humor, but they are also unmistakably portrayed as the problems of a damaged, mentally ill man.
Okay. My character is a damaged, emotionally ill man. And technically it is not a parallel, only a comparison or similarity. A parallel would be . .. oh never mind.
Ruzak, on the other hand, is just ignorant and idle. He passively lets things sweep along, "waiting for a break in the case or a break in the monotony of my life." The book is much longer and slower than it needed to be because, as Ruzak admits, "I'm too trusting and maybe a little lazy."
He solves the case by outwitting the bad guy. No wait. He outwits TWO bad guys. Not bad for someone ignorant and idle. You are taking a single sentence out of context to prove a point that is contrary to how the book actually turns out. Politicians, certain talk show hosts and a slew of preachers do this - you, as a reviewer, never should. It is ignorant. And it is lazy. Perhaps the character reminds you of yourself and that's why you have such open animosity toward him. I'm not shrink, but that's how it strikes me. Plus, I have a deep suspicion that you are, like Ruzak, somewhat on the rotund side.
Those are terrible character traits for a detective, and the characters around him aren't that sympathetic either. For instance, my interest in Felicia the secretary waned quickly at her many absences and disappeared entirely when she laughed at the description of a crushed, dying bird.
The absences you are referring to regarding this unsympathetic character are as a result of her being a single mom trying to raise a mentally handicapped kid. Boy, talk about unsympathetic! No wonder you hate her!
In summary, there's barely any action, a blindingly obvious mystery, and a main character who, in his own words "barely possessed the intellectual wherewithal to tie his own shoes."
Um, the character didn't say that. It was another character. Facts! Accuracy! I understand you were having a great time roasting my character alive and doing your utmost to dissuade readers from buying my book, thus depriving me of a livelihood and everything, but there were plenty of REAL flaws in the book you might have pointed out. Instead, you made it clear that one, you do not like single moms with mentally challenged children; two, you do not like humor (especially when it's sprinkled over plot like powdered sugar); and three, you do not like trusting people and you view it as a character flaw.
The last thing I would like to point out is "blindingly obvious" is one of the weirdest expressions I've ever heard. If something is obvious, doesn't that mean you can see it clearly? How about "glitteringly obvious" or "Obviously obvious"?
Oops, I'm putting humor over my Reply.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Author Strikes Back!
First, a confession: I troll the internet daily for mentions of my work. I scan amazon sales numbers and reviews. I look at Shelfari and LibraryThing and Goodreads.
The good reviews make me positively glow. The bad reviews . . . Well, I am human, despite what my big brother used to think. They hurt. They make me mad. Sometimes I begin angry responses, and never post them. Why? Because it would elevate these snarks, make them feel more important than they really are. Not that I am important myself, but it's awful easy to be a critic and damn hard to produce a book worthy of their wrath.
But I thought, why not vent your rage here on your blog? Since these people hate you anyway, what are the odds of them ever reading it? Slim to none.
So, without further ado, the Author Replies to His Critics.
(These will be actual reviews posted here and there on the internet. I am not revealing where I found them because the last thing I want to do is increase their readership!)
FIRST UP:
"The synopsis sounded exciting… if I remember it correctly it spouted something like “shocks frequent and shrouded in a splattery miasma of blood, bone, pus, and maggots,” what I got however was a drug out description of a mentally unstable “Monster Dr.” and his too young ward that was as equally dull as his mentor.
How drug out was it exactly?? Hum.. I guess I would equate it to the duration of a double root canal, performed in a third world country, while using Orajel as an anesthetic. IT WAS RIDICULOUS!!! As a matter of fact, a book that should have taken me all of a day to read has yet to be completed…after 2 weeks of forcing myself to get interested I finally just gave up. 50% was all I could muster and even that was pushing it.
I almost feel sorry for “Rick Yancy,” his previous books where actually enjoyable, but after reading this slop I seriously doubt I will venture into any of his make believe worlds again.
The only positive I can give is a big ‘ol “WaaHoo” that I didn’t actually shell out dough for this stinker, even though in the end I did fell like I paid for it…in headaches and heavy sighs.
Save your money peeps…buy a dictionary…it’s much more interesting."
My Reply: How often do critics (particularly blog critics at the end of the very long tail) compare books they don't like to root canals? What a shop-worn, hackneyed comparison, my dear. Couldn't you come up with something a bit more original, like "as drug-out as the removal of a hangnail by a podiatrist"? (I hear this is excruciating).
I've lost count of how many reviewers, who hold me and other writers to the highest standards, can't even get the simplest facts straight. For example, my name is spelled Y-a-n-c-E-y. Hard to see how you can get it wrong when it's ON THE COVER OF THE BOOK and PRINTED ON EVERY FREAKIN PAGE. The devil, I suppose, is in the details. And one other very odd thing, dear reviewer, is putting my (misspelled) name in quotation marks. What's that about?
I may write slop, but at least I write in full sentences. Also, what's it with "peeps"? It sounds like you are straining to hard to be cool.
FYI: All fiction is "make-believe" Your use of the phrase is redundant.
And boring . . . why? Why is it boring? You never explain. What is the criteria for boring? What made the characters dull? Their failure to resemble Edward or Jacob? I would take you as a Team Jacob member . . . so edgy and tormented. Right or wrong?
BTW, your online picture makes you look fat.
The good reviews make me positively glow. The bad reviews . . . Well, I am human, despite what my big brother used to think. They hurt. They make me mad. Sometimes I begin angry responses, and never post them. Why? Because it would elevate these snarks, make them feel more important than they really are. Not that I am important myself, but it's awful easy to be a critic and damn hard to produce a book worthy of their wrath.
But I thought, why not vent your rage here on your blog? Since these people hate you anyway, what are the odds of them ever reading it? Slim to none.
So, without further ado, the Author Replies to His Critics.
(These will be actual reviews posted here and there on the internet. I am not revealing where I found them because the last thing I want to do is increase their readership!)
FIRST UP:
"The synopsis sounded exciting… if I remember it correctly it spouted something like “shocks frequent and shrouded in a splattery miasma of blood, bone, pus, and maggots,” what I got however was a drug out description of a mentally unstable “Monster Dr.” and his too young ward that was as equally dull as his mentor.
How drug out was it exactly?? Hum.. I guess I would equate it to the duration of a double root canal, performed in a third world country, while using Orajel as an anesthetic. IT WAS RIDICULOUS!!! As a matter of fact, a book that should have taken me all of a day to read has yet to be completed…after 2 weeks of forcing myself to get interested I finally just gave up. 50% was all I could muster and even that was pushing it.
I almost feel sorry for “Rick Yancy,” his previous books where actually enjoyable, but after reading this slop I seriously doubt I will venture into any of his make believe worlds again.
The only positive I can give is a big ‘ol “WaaHoo” that I didn’t actually shell out dough for this stinker, even though in the end I did fell like I paid for it…in headaches and heavy sighs.
Save your money peeps…buy a dictionary…it’s much more interesting."
My Reply: How often do critics (particularly blog critics at the end of the very long tail) compare books they don't like to root canals? What a shop-worn, hackneyed comparison, my dear. Couldn't you come up with something a bit more original, like "as drug-out as the removal of a hangnail by a podiatrist"? (I hear this is excruciating).
I've lost count of how many reviewers, who hold me and other writers to the highest standards, can't even get the simplest facts straight. For example, my name is spelled Y-a-n-c-E-y. Hard to see how you can get it wrong when it's ON THE COVER OF THE BOOK and PRINTED ON EVERY FREAKIN PAGE. The devil, I suppose, is in the details. And one other very odd thing, dear reviewer, is putting my (misspelled) name in quotation marks. What's that about?
I may write slop, but at least I write in full sentences. Also, what's it with "peeps"? It sounds like you are straining to hard to be cool.
FYI: All fiction is "make-believe" Your use of the phrase is redundant.
And boring . . . why? Why is it boring? You never explain. What is the criteria for boring? What made the characters dull? Their failure to resemble Edward or Jacob? I would take you as a Team Jacob member . . . so edgy and tormented. Right or wrong?
BTW, your online picture makes you look fat.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Tour Ends
So I'm home, finally - after hundreds of miles and multiple airports, hotels and some really bad food and a thousand faces and stacks of books and some very, very cool kids, parents, media specialists, bookstore owners, surly airline employees, screwed-up flights, lonely nights in strange rooms ("What city am I in again?"), long long-distance phone calls to home, obsessive checking of Amazon numbers, all-wise, all-knowing cab drivers, long lines, cramping fingers, dry mouth, saying the same things so often that your mind actually begins to wander as you speak, symptoms of hypochondria ("My tummy hurts; do I have a tumor?"), insomnia, weird dreams, no dreams, stupid dreams, bad coffee, bad turbulence, bad hair . . . and why can I never get the temperature in a hotel room just right?
A big, huge, ginormous thank you to everyone who came to see me (even those kids who were made to by their school), told me jokes, talked about books, life, writing, monsters, swords, and everything else under the sun. Thanks to my wife and kids, whom I missed terribly and who joined me for part of the journey - feel so much more normal when they're with me.
All of it so worthwhile when someone tells me how much they like my work. Writing is a solitary business, and at times very, very lonely. Easy to forget you're asking communicating with someone other than yourself . . .
I am tired, but richer for everyone I met. Back to the world of monsters and the horrors they bear.
A big, huge, ginormous thank you to everyone who came to see me (even those kids who were made to by their school), told me jokes, talked about books, life, writing, monsters, swords, and everything else under the sun. Thanks to my wife and kids, whom I missed terribly and who joined me for part of the journey - feel so much more normal when they're with me.
All of it so worthwhile when someone tells me how much they like my work. Writing is a solitary business, and at times very, very lonely. Easy to forget you're asking communicating with someone other than yourself . . .
I am tired, but richer for everyone I met. Back to the world of monsters and the horrors they bear.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
More from the Road
Last night had a nice time at Schuler Books in Okemos, signing books and chatting with fans. Now on to Nicola's Books in Ann Arbor and Borders in Novi. Tired, road-weary, but energized about getting the word out about The Monstrumologist. Looking forward to the harvest, as it were.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monsters in Chicago - The Monstrumologist Tour Continues
I'm getting ready for my last day here in the City of the Big Shoulders, hitting multiple stores before heading to the airport for Michigan. Spoke with two school groups, signed a bunch of books, met some terrific teachers and media specialists. Thanks to Glen Crest Middle and Juarez Academy High for the hospitality and to the students - you guys were great!
My confidence grows each day that I'll get to the bottom of this mystery wrapped in a riddle, that the day will come when I'll have the truth about Will Henry and his disturbing journals. Hopefully, before I reach the 13th journal . . . I keep picking it up. But I don't crack it open. Maybe I'm worried about what I'll find . . . or won't find there. They seem to progress in chronological order, and perhaps the 13th is the key to unlocking the case, but I can't bring myself to look for fear of what I might find there.
Word continues to spread about the book. Bloggers are writing about it, boards are beginning to discuss it, and I hope the giveaway by the publisher on Amazon and Sony e-readers will pay off in the sense that a lot of people will be exposed to Will Henry's tale. Someone somewhere out there knows something, and hopefully they'll come forward.
My confidence grows each day that I'll get to the bottom of this mystery wrapped in a riddle, that the day will come when I'll have the truth about Will Henry and his disturbing journals. Hopefully, before I reach the 13th journal . . . I keep picking it up. But I don't crack it open. Maybe I'm worried about what I'll find . . . or won't find there. They seem to progress in chronological order, and perhaps the 13th is the key to unlocking the case, but I can't bring myself to look for fear of what I might find there.
Word continues to spread about the book. Bloggers are writing about it, boards are beginning to discuss it, and I hope the giveaway by the publisher on Amazon and Sony e-readers will pay off in the sense that a lot of people will be exposed to Will Henry's tale. Someone somewhere out there knows something, and hopefully they'll come forward.
Friday, September 25, 2009
On the Road
I've been traveling since Monday on The Monstrumologist roadtrip. First stop Books & Books in Miami, then Tuesday radio interviews, Wednesday two great visits with students in the Sarasota area, Thursday a signing at Barnes & Noble in Orlando, now in Greenville for the Southern Independent Booksellers Association meeting. Thursday was the best day - because I got to be with my family! I miss them very much tonight.
I've been spreading the word about Will Henry and his strange journals, hoping that the more the word spreads, the more likely it will be someone, somewhere will know something and be able to help answer these questions which have been haunting me. Was his name really William James Henry? Was he really originally from Mass.? Could he have been, as he claimed, 131 years old and a former assistant to a doctor who studied real-life monsters?
One student I spoke with suggested I scan a page from his journal and post it on the website. Perhaps someone might recognize his handwriting. I think that's a terrific idea and will get something up when I get back from the tour . . .
Things are progessing nicely on the edit of the next three journals, but just cracking them open has created so many more leads that I don't when I'll have the time to track them all down. This is where the power of the internet and its social web may prove the key to solving this vexing puzzle . . .
Is it real?
Is Will Henry's story true?
And if it is . . . oh I don't want to think about that.
I've been spreading the word about Will Henry and his strange journals, hoping that the more the word spreads, the more likely it will be someone, somewhere will know something and be able to help answer these questions which have been haunting me. Was his name really William James Henry? Was he really originally from Mass.? Could he have been, as he claimed, 131 years old and a former assistant to a doctor who studied real-life monsters?
One student I spoke with suggested I scan a page from his journal and post it on the website. Perhaps someone might recognize his handwriting. I think that's a terrific idea and will get something up when I get back from the tour . . .
Things are progessing nicely on the edit of the next three journals, but just cracking them open has created so many more leads that I don't when I'll have the time to track them all down. This is where the power of the internet and its social web may prove the key to solving this vexing puzzle . . .
Is it real?
Is Will Henry's story true?
And if it is . . . oh I don't want to think about that.
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