Lilith Saintcrow

I’m thinking it’s PMS. Up late again last night and cranky like a big cranky thing today. Normally I’m not sweetness and light, you understand, but today I just feel like EVERYONE NEEDS TO BACK AWAY AT LEAST THREE STEPS AND JUST TOSS THE CHOCOLATE (GENTLY) IN MY DIRECTION. And working out just makes me feel like I can take on the world and throttle everything that even remotely irritates me.

So, in lieu of actual postage I will give a goodie! The folks at Razorbill would like to know what you think of the cover for Strange Angels. To see the lovely, lovely cover, just click through the cut–and tell me what you think, eh?

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I’m finally (just got a chance to start it last night) reading Justin Gustainis’s Evil Ways, the second Morris & Chastain Investigation. (Yes, that Quincy Morris.) I’m currently on page 195 and enjoying myself immensely. Huge bonus: this book boasts an appearance by Mac, of Dresden Files fame. (You’ll also hear about a certain reporter.)

Justin can tell a hell of a story and is very deft with pacing. There’s some things I’d do differently on a craft level, of course, but that’s true for any book. What’s important is that I’m two-thirds of the way through the book and wishing I could slow down to savor it, which is a rare and wonderful thing for me.

So, if you’re looking for a great urban fantasy read with enough in-jokes and high-octane action (not to mention good solid research and some damn fine writing and plotting) to make any sane reader scream with joy…look, I can’t make it any plainer, I LOVE THIS BOOK.

I’m going to dive back in now. Expect to hear more tomorrow!

Today I got up late and cranky. It was my own damn fault for staying up to watch a Masterpiece Theater Jane Eyre last night. The Selkie was right–this is one damn fine Jane Eyre. My heart still belongs to Orson Welles as Mr. Rochester, but the Jane in the Masterpiece Theater one–Ruth Wilson–does a very good job and is lit wonderfully well. (Quick trivia–Lucy from the current Narnia movies is the young Jane. Which alone almost makes it worth watching.)

ANYWAY. I got up late and cranky and it was a horrid effort to push myself through the morning workout. The only thing that saved me was habit. Good intentions will fail; habits have a much better chance. The art of discipline, I think, revolves largely around taking control of one’s habits and making them your helpers instead of your master.

I can pretty much tell the only thing that’s going to get me through the wordcount I need to squeeze out today is habit, too. *headdesk* So, erm, off I go. Fifteen hundred words today or bust. I’ve got to get this book finished.

First of all, I’d like to draw your attention to this excellent post by Caitlin Kittredge, The Myth Of The “Expert”. She makes two incredibly valid points: that a writer expecting to “go professional” needs an agent, and to be careful when selecting one. Blogging does not an agent make. Sales make an agent–sales and the willingness to fight to get your author the best deal. And I think this is one of the truest damn things Caitlin has ever said (among a great many true things):

Here’s the truth–as a new writer, you really need an agent. You could lose count of the myriad ways to be screwed without one, and let’s face it, paying someone 15% commission to decipher legalese, negotiate subrights and beg editors for extensions on our behalf is worth every damn penny.

I love my agent (and not just because she is likely to be reading this). As one of my editors said, “I love M., and she kicks my ass come contract time. I mean, she’s doing her job and we both know it, but DAMN, she kicks my ass! And I love it!” My agent is both a friend and a business professional who is invested in my success. She’s worth that fifteen percent. Hell, she’d be worth twenty-five. And that’s saying something, because I’ve got kids to feed.

A good, professional agent is worth their weight in gold, platinum, diamonds, or any other horribly valuable thing you care to name. But you the writer are responsible for doing your research and being conscious that this is a business relationship as well as (ideally) a friendship. Do not confuse the two relationships, and do not presume that since someone is “friendly” or has a blog, that they will be a good agent.

Anyway, that’s not what I set out to write about this fine fair snow-dappled Friday. Let’s talk about that rare and wonderful creature, the beta reader. Lots of you have asked me what beta readers (sometimes referred to as betas) are.

A beta reader is a critique partner who you can trust with your work when it’s in the raw draft zero stage. This may not sound like much, but it is huge. The wrong kind of critique can kill a work in those tender first stages, and someone with an emotional agenda can eff up your love of your work beyond repair.

A good beta reader:

* understands your style and voice, and understands the difference between them and a crutch
* can read for structure; they can pinpoint where the structure of your work has broken down
* can give feedback in a clear, constructive, supportive fashion
* has no harmful emotional agenda when it comes to your work
* has a communication style that meshes with yours.

This last point is one of the most critical. There are communication styles, some of them mesh and some of them don’t, and it’s hard to trust your work to someone who you can’t understand and give the benefit of the doubt to.

It took me two decades to find my beta (the Selkie) and I prize her about as much as my agent. I can trust a work to her in the zero-draft or unfinished stage, and I can be sure she’s not going to stick a passive-aggressive emotional knife in me OR the work. She functions as a sort of backstop and polishing phase where I can make a novel or a short story absolutely as good as possible before I send it out into the world to get rejected rudely or cut to shreds by my lovely editors.

The Selkie will highlight repeated words, mark plot holes and sometimes suggest fixes, check facts, make invaluable little smiley-faces on a manuscript when she likes something, give me an overview of the strong points and the weak points of a work, and just generally make it better. I can trust her with a raw book or short story and say, “I don’t know what’s wrong with this. What do you think?” And I can be sure of getting an honest answer couched in a diplomatic way. I can also trust her to patiently listen to me go on and on about imaginary people and situations over drinks–as I so often do, and as she does in return.

A beta reader is called “beta” because they get to see the beta version of your work, before it’s polished and ready to be submitted to agent or editor. This is a high trust and the beta reader is conscious of it.

My job, when it comes to the Selkie reading my stuff, is to take a deep breath and consider everything she says. My job is also to remember that she’s doing me a favor by taking time out of her life to read my stuff, so I’d better listen to what she has to say. I am also required to be a good friend and not go off the deep end because she is seeing the warts on this piece of work I’ve agonised over for months or weeks. (I’m convinced the woman has sheer diplomacy for blood.) In short, the beta street goes both ways; to get a good beta/friend, it can’t hurt to BE one.

Good betas and good beta-writer relationships do not grow on trees. The Selkie and I did not get to this point right away. There was a prolonged period of us getting to know each other, and getting to know each other’s work, since I’m honored to be one of her beta readers. We also had to work to learn each other’s communication styles, which happen to mesh rather nicely. We generally agree on what we mean when we say certain things. The commitment is to honesty–but not the acid hurtful one-upmanship that passes for “honesty” in so many “friendships” or critique partnerships.

I’ve seen some beta-writer relations that don’t depend on a friendship, too. The truth, given diplomatically but not hurtfully, is the basis for each and every one of them. I’ve also seen some beta/writer relationships tank spectacularly because one person (or both) falls through on the deal. It’s never a pretty sight.

A beta isn’t like an editor, thought they do have some editing functions. Sometimes I ask the Selkie for a general read to find plot holes, sometimes I ask her to be on the lookout for certain issues, sometimes (like with the current crop of short stories) I hand the damn things over to her and say, “Bash these on the head and make them behave, mmmkay?” Part of my responsibility when I hand over my stuff for the beta read is to say clearly what I want–and to be satisfied when I get what I ask for. This is, again, a communication thing. If I want a hard, multi-level edit/read, I need to ask for it–and take her schedule into account, since she’s got her own work. This is just professional courtesy. If, on the other hand, I want just a general scan for plot holes and characterization wrong notes, I need to speak up and say that–and not be disappointed when I get it back and realize what I should’ve asked for was a hard read.

In short, the Selkie is a reader who is also a fellow writing professional. She can take a look at my work through several different “lenses” and pinpoint the flaws in it through each lens, and then give me feedback to fix those flaws in an adult, reasonably diplomatic (but always honest) way. If it sounds like a hell of a balancing act, it is. This is why betas don’t grow on trees, and if you find a good one, dear fellow writer, cherish them with all your might. Buy them drinks and be a good friend/beta in return. A good beta can teach you more about writing than you ever thought possible.

And, you know, it’s really fun to snark and industry-gossip over drinks with your beta. Because they by and large understand what it’s like to live with a head full of imaginary people and all-too-real rules of grammar. They understand when your deadlines are chewing your ass like rabid alligators and your characters aren’t cooperating, and how the hell are you supposed to finish all this anyway? Maybe you should just give it up and move to Bermuda.

And this is when the Selkie usually says, “Oh, Jesus, Lili. Just sit down and do the damn work. But before you do, have another hors d’oeuvre, and let me tell you about this story I’m writing about a rat-sticking sailor and his lady love, who can call storms…”

Yep. Love your beta(s). Cherish them. And be a good one in return.

Nuff said.

May 2009 be happy, healthy, and wonderful for all of us.