Monday, November 30, 2015

The Incarcerated Teen Book Drive...

So a few weeks ago, I went into Cook County Juvenile Detention Center to talk to some of the girls who would be participating in our forthcoming survivor testimonial writing workshop. I happened to bring a few copies of my books because I wanted them to see what came out of the workshop when I participated in it.

They signed up for the workshop, but more than anything, they were excited about the books. "We get to keep these? For real?" Their advisor told me they don't really get new books often, and sometimes they have to re-read the same ones. So I said, "Do you want me to put a call out to my author friends on Twitter and see if any of them might have a few paperbacks to donate?" Immediately she said, "Yes. That would be amazing."

Well, I put that tweet out and it got retweeted (the last I checked it was maybe 242 times?) and holy cow did the awesome YA community respond! Agents and editors and publishers and authors and bloggers and bookstores and readers and publicists. It was extraordinary.

And here is how it all played out...

I had to have a convo w/ my mail carrier (Thanks, Reggie, for giving me my own bin!)
This was delivered to my house on the 3rd day after my tweet

My kids were really into this project
The dog was less excited

And today I dropped off the first batch which they were thrilled about!
Batch #2 will be delivered in 2 weeks.

So I just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who sent me books. I will do this book drive again next year. It means so much to me and to all the staff and teens at Cook County. You are all EXTRAORDINARY and make me believe in the goodness of the world.

A million thank you's to my donating friends!!! 

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

"I suggest that you remove the suggestion box..."

Tomorrow will mark the two-month mark until the release of OTHER BROKEN THINGS. When I was writing that book a few years ago, I whispered to my friend Asher, "This is the one that holds a lot of my heart. This is the one. What if I can't create anything like this again?" He laughed and said, "So what if you can't?" Which is very Asher. This book was my special one, I thought. It was special because it was both easy and very hard to write. It was personal and difficult stuff of mine on page, but it was true to me, which made it feel important. 

I have now received four trade reviews for this book. For those who are not writers, these are the "professionals" weighing in on your books. My trade reviews have been good...and terrible. 

Here's the good (start with the positive, as my dad always tells me):

"Other Broken Things.
Advanced Review – Uncorrected Proof
Desir, C. (Author)
Jan 2016. 256 p. Simon & Schuster/Simon Pulse, hardcover, $17.99. (9781481437394).

In Desir’s latest, Natalie’s a fresh-out-of-rehab high-school senior beginning the 12-step program. Brash, unrepentant, and far from kind to herself, Nat strikes up an unlikely friendship—and possibly something more—with 38-year-old Joe, from her local AA group. Her journey toward recovery brims with bumps and potholes: old friends who haven’t dropped their drinking habits, parents who fail to offer the support system she needs, and the truth about what happened that fateful night that she doesn’t want to face. Though Nat’s relationship with her father could have used a bit more development, there is much to recommend here. The frank, sometimes profanity-laced prose suits the subject matter and will engage reluctant readers. Nat’s penchant for self-destructive behaviors, including her pursuit of Joe, only augments a reader’s sympathy and curiosity for what motivates her. In Nat—a female counterpart to Sutter Keeley of Tim Tharp’s The Spectacular Now (2008)—Desir crafts a portrait of a teenage alcoholic that is honest and unsparing."—BOOKLIST

"Gr 9 Up—Seventeen-year-old Natalie's story starts with "I'd cut a bitch for a cigarette," hooking readers immediately. In this gritty and honest tale, Nat's struggle with sobriety starts with court-ordered AA meetings and community service after a DUI incident. She is a fighter, literally. Her parents' demand that she quit boxing leads to her drinking. Nat fills the holes in her life with booze and sex. Without an addiction, she feels lost. Enter Joe, the sexy, 30-something would-be sponsor Nat bums cigarettes off of during meetings. Though Joe tries to shut down Nat's outrageous flirting, the sexual tension is palpable, foretelling the inevitable train wreck. Desir writes the relationship as an ill-fated May/December romance between two addicts. If Nat and Joe do not have alcohol, they will find something else to quench their needs. In this case, they find each other, until that implodes. While this situation lends itself to controversy, it also invites conversation. Other plot threads—losing friends and reuniting with others, relapses, and Natalie's parents' rocky marriage—round out the recovering addict's experience. Facing her demons, Nat evolves from a rightfully angry teen to a wiser, emotionally stronger young woman able to stand on her own without a man or alcohol, and readers will cheer for her success. Not for the faint of heart (Joe's rock bottom story involves a dead hooker), Natalie's story is told without judgement and with an uncanny understanding of the 12-step program. This is sure to appeal to fans of Nic Sheff's Tweak (S. & S., 2008), Koren Zailckas's Smashed (Viking, 2005), and the-like. VERDICT This title deserves a place on high school shelves."—School Library Journal

Here's the terrible (and there is really no sugar-coating "terrible" here):

(Simon Pulse; ISBN 978-1-4814-3739-4; 1/12/16; Spring 2016 catalog)

Seventeen-year-old Natalie is a rich kid in the throes of addiction, fresh off a DUI conviction and court-ordered rehab. She flings herself headfirst into an obsession with Joe, a man more than twice her age whom she meets in AA, and dabbles in her former life, trading sex to her ex for vodka. What she really wants is to return to the boxing ring, a hobby forbidden by her father, who's more concerned with his own reputation than with reality. Unfortunately, Natalie's attention is so narrowly focused on her attraction to Joe and getting high when she gets stressed out that little ink is spent exploring her passion for the "sweet science"or its role as an outlet for her turmoil. Desir (Bleed Like Me) compresses Natalie's story into a book-long AA meeting, pushing forward rapidly while glossing over scenes that might have provided more depth to her characters. Even the revelation of a secret that Natalie has been holding doesn't land with the intended impact."—Publisher's Weekly

Author: C. Desir
Despite a drunken driving charge, a stint in rehab, and an unshakeable thirst for vodka-induced oblivion, 17-year-old Natalie is not an alcoholic. The label doesn't fit, not for Natalie and certainly not for her father, who is hellbent on keeping up appearances in their wealthy Chicago suburb. Yet when Natalie returns from a court-ordered trip to rehab, her old life doesn't quite seem to fit right either. While ticking off Alcoholics Anonymous meetings on her court card, Natalie develops a relationship with a much older recovering alcoholic, a white guy. (Natalie specifies the racial makeup of the AA group but never directly reveals her own.) Joe breaks through Natalie's tough-girl facade and forces her to face the truth. Natalie's growing feelings for Joe muddy the waters. Distancing herself from destructive, party-girl friendships and resisting the temptation to drink when the going gets rough are difficult. Owning up to her mistakes and assuming responsibility for creating a healthy, new life is even harder. Readers will likely find Natalie's snarky, profanity-laced narration appealing and will easily relate to her struggle to navigate treacherous teen waters rife with unhealthy relationships, temptations, and self-doubt. Unfortunately, the May-December romance between Natalie and Joe is both predictable and clich├ęd, and it distracts from topics that would have been far more interesting to explore, such as Natalie's passion for boxing. A teen-issue book with loads of potential that only achieves mediocrity. (Fiction. 14-18)"—Kirkus
And here's a picture of Lenny Kravitz making some eggs so we can all have a palette cleanser.

So we're not supposed to point out our terrible reviews or talk about them because...well, because I guess maybe people think that they'll go away? As if I could shake off a professional saying this book I put all my heart into "only achieves mediocrity." As if other people aren't seeing that in trade reviews and wincing a little, feeling sorry for me, and secretly grateful it didn't happen to them. 
Most people who know me by now know that I tend to live out loud. The reason I do this is not only to demystify the absurd notion that writers (or frankly human beings) are perfect and always only make good life choices and have great things happen to them, but also because not saying out loud the things that hurt, or the things that I'm carrying around, is a death sentence for me. If I don't bleed hurt or process things out loud or talk about the things that aren't easy (whether with my people or in public spaces), then they become locked inside of me in little drawers of toxicity and the results are incredibly unhealthy. 
So yeah, I got some super shitty reviews. Good ones too, but honestly, I'm me and I'm not thinking about the good ones, I'm thinking about the horrible ones. Which brings me to the way that the universe works (or maybe God, for those who are believers), because I have long held the belief that the world lines up in the way it needs to for us to keep moving forward.
And thus these terrible reviews of mine happen to be coming on the heels of me reading Elizabeth Gilbert's BIG MAGIC which is a book I can't recommend enough for every human being doing anything creative in their life. Here's Gilbert talking about 'being on top':
"I mean, if you cannot repeat a once-in-a-lifetime miracle—if you can never again reach the top—then why bother creating at all? (...) But such thinking assumes there is a "top"—and that reaching that top (and staying there) is the only motive one has to create. Such thinking assumes that the mysteries of inspiration operate on the same scale that we do—on a limited human scale of success and failure, of winning and losing, of comparison and competition... Such thinking assumes that you must be constantly victorious—not only against your peers, but also against an earlier version of your own poor self. Most dangerously of all, such thinking assumes that if you cannot win, then you must not continue to play."
These words, which are really about Gilbert's Eat Pray Love success, ended up being the perfect ones for my own failures. Because they reminded me of why I play in the first place, of what I'm trying to do with my writing, of who I'm trying to reach, of what living a creative life means. And the truth is, that it doesn't mean reading reviews. Good ones or bad ones. These get in the way of my creative life. Even the good ones because they do not steer me in a direction toward growing as a writer.
I have learned more about writing in the past 11 months from my agent than I have in the past 11 years. And this is a little bit of a love note to Barry Goldblatt who has figured out that if I'm not passionate about what I'm writing, I'm not living a good creative life. So he gets on the phone with me and says, "Are you passionate about this? Do you care about this?" and when I say, "I don't know," he says, "Then why should anyone else care?" And those are the words that are hard to hear but make me grow. Because that is really how I find my way into living my best creative life. 
How do we continue to play when a professional implies we're on the B-squad or worse, we don't belong on the field at all? We take it outside of the human realm of failure and success and bring it into a universal realm. Reviews cannot and should not make or break us. Giving them power to do so compromises who we are as creative people. As Gilbert says, "What does any of that have to do with the quiet glory of merely making things, and then sharing those things with an open heart and no expectations?"

Thanks for reading this long post. I remain your "well-meaning but deeply flawed" friend.

Monday, September 28, 2015

Love Blind Cover Reveal

Hi friends! Do you remember that time I told you about writing an almost love story with Jolene Perry? Well, hey, it's coming out in May of 2016 and we have a cover and we've done copy edits and things are plugging along! So here's the cover and the blurb and basically you all need to be a little excited because I wrote an ALMOST love story and that's a really big deal for me since I want to ruin everything regularly with my writing.

So here goes:

Super cute, right? I thought so too!

And here's the blurb:

It starts with a list of fears. Stupid things really. Things that Hailey shouldn’t worry about, wouldn’t worry about if she didn’t wake up every morning with the world a little more blurry. Unable to see her two moms clearly. Unable to read the music for her guitar. One step closer to losing the things she cares about the most.
For a while, the only thing that keeps Hailey moving forward is the feeling she gets when she crosses something off the list.
 Then she meets Kyle. He mumbles—when he talks at all—and listens to music to drown out his thoughts. He’s loaded down with fears, too. So Hailey talks him into making his own list.
 Together, they stumble into an odd friendship, helping each other tackle one after another of their biggest fears. But fate and timing can change everything. And sometimes facing your worst fear makes you realize you had nothing to lose after all. 

Friday, September 18, 2015

Publishing, man, what are you gonna do?

I've had several conversations with authors of late that have gone along these lines:

Me: How are things going?
Author: Eh, not so great.
Me: I'm sorry to hear that. Can I do something?
Author: Probably not. Publishing, man, what are you gonna do?

And now I'll tell you a secret, because I work on both sides of the desk in this industry, this conversation is happening with a lot of people in publishing: editors, agents, publishers, publicists, etc. It's not super hard to figure out one of the primary reasons people feel a bit of uncertainty in the state of publishing has to do with the exponential growth in number of books being published and our inability to mirror that exponential growth in terms of readers.

The tottering TBR pile is no lie. I know readers/bloggers who read 5-7 books a week and still can't keep up. On the one hand, I'm all, "yay! books for every kind of reader!" and on the other hand, I'm all, "wow, how can you possibly find YOUR readers when there are so many other books out there for them to pick up instead of yours?"

When I first started editing romance, my prolific authors released 3-4 books a year. Now, for them to make the equivalent income, they have to release 9-12. And it's a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy that their sales are decreasing because lots of other romance authors are releasing 9-12 books a year and so it's harder to break through and sell as much. And I have no judgment on this one way or another because people have to eat and pay their bills and the reality is that we're a little stuck with this system until something collapses or a bunch of people decide they're not doing that anymore. Systems of dysfunction continue to work until someone or several someones buck the system. It's the way it goes.

But here's what I do want to dissect and call shenanigans on—I've heard multiple authors say to me, "If I don't release X number of books a year, then I'm worried I'll disappear." STAHP with this. If you write remarkable books, people will not forget you. People don't forget remarkable books or authors they love. If you churn out multiple books that you and your readers all feel meh about, yeah, I can see how you might disappear. But if you bring your best self to the table, you will be invited back no matter how long it's been since the last time you sat down.

But Christa, you say, what about my grocery bill and rent? Yes. Good point. You're trying to make a living doing this. So are a lot of people. I think being a starving artist blows. But I also think that we need to acknowledge the reality of the state of publishing. There are several people who work in publishing who have 2-3 jobs. It sucks. No doubt about it. It's totally unfair. But saying it's unfair doesn't really change anything. My roller derby rink closed down and so now I don't get to dress up and be badass and I've gained 10 pounds. It's unfair, but it's life. Stomping your feet and being pissy about it doesn't change the facts.

Well, you say, then what the hell am I supposed to do? GOOD QUESTION. And here's what I ask everyone who is in this industry and feels a little adrift with their failures or with things overpromised and underdelivered or with their lack of critical praise: what is your goal post? How do you define success? How do you want to make your mark?

Then step back and see if that's achievable for you. I mean making the NYT list is a lot different than making a living as a writer which is a lot different than being critically acclaimed which is a lot different than creating work that seeks to change/challenge the injustices of the world. So what is it you really want? And what can YOU do to get there? Don't list a bunch of stuff that is out of your control, consider what is in your control and start there. Also, you may want ALL the things I've stated above, but you need to prioritize for yourself because very, very few people get to eat all the desserts at once and even if they do, a lot of them end up a little miserable because every dessert after that makes them think of that one time they got to eat all the desserts.

The other day, a friend said, "The NYT list is pretty achievable if you do a 99-cent sale and a BookBub and some FB ads and a bunch of blogger promo." And there was a part of me that thought, "Well, yes, maybe, but what if you wrote a rape book with a half-black male protagonist that starts with a graphic blowjob scene and you're giving 50% of your proceeds to a writing workshop for rape survivors and you don't really want to drop your price or spend money on a BookBub ad because how will that help rape survivors?" Do you see what I mean about figuring out where your goal post is?

I also think we spend a hella lot of time beating ourselves up about things that other people seem to be achieving/getting that we're not. And I really get it—we all want to be adored and we all want to be perfect. But the social worker in me would say that this is all bass-ackwards. You need to go at this from a strengths-based perspective. What is the best thing that you're bringing to the table? Do more of that. Inevitably it'll get you to a place you belong or can find contentment with. I mean, really, who knew that Carrie Mesrobian and I could actually find a sponsor to support our podcast where we talk about sex and books? Believe me, I was a little blindsided by it too. But our podcast is something I love and I think maybe that's why it worked out. (Although, it could just be our midwestern accents).

Finally, the other day, I read this excellent post in NY Magazine that was a "Should I give up on writing?" Q&A. It tackles everything I've said above in a much more eloquent and succinct way. Mostly because blogging really isn't my strength and I don't do much of it anymore so I feel rambly and uneven.

So...go forth, duckies, and be gentler on yourself. There are lovely and amazing things about every single one of you.


Monday, July 27, 2015

For Ashley: On truth and bearing witness

This weekend I was among the faculty at the Midwest Writer's Workshop. It is a very good workshop. Smart and dedicated people. Writers who love writing and want to get better. And the faculty was truly amazing. One of whom was Ashley Ford. I have been a fan of Ashley for quite some time. I appreciate her authenticity and honesty and her willingness to speak about difficult things. And I was very much looking forward to meeting her for the first time.

I think I've mentioned that I'm an awkward hugger who doesn't let go.
But I had a question. One she really only got to half-answer, so don't hold her to this. :) One that I've been thinking about over and over again when it comes to writing personal essays, to telling your truths online and in public forums. How do you tell your truth, be authentic and courageous, and protect yourself at the same time? Protect yourself from people's toxicity or blame or hatred or disbelief.

And Ashley answered beautifully. She explained that telling her truths have opened doors and windows so we're not locked into a house of shame. That readers write her and say, "yes, me too, thank you, I'm so glad I'm not alone." And for Ashley, enough of that happens that it makes everything worth it.

This, I understand. This, I feel so much. Every letter I get feels like a gift. I am humbled by people telling me their stories. I feel deeply grateful to have garnered that level of trust. If the New York Magazine Cosby piece this morning did nothing else, I hope that it opened people's eyes to the solidarity of survivors. To the power of multiple voices coming together and saying, NO MORE. And even as I say this, even as I'm so proud of this chorus, I'm equally devastated that it's taken so many voices for people to finally pause.

Which brings me to my second question. The harder question, in some ways. The question about vicarious trauma and carrying the stories of survivors in our own skin. Because I think to a certain extent we all do that. We all read something that breaks our hearts and we all take a little piece of that on. We slip it into our selves and it hurts for a while, and then it becomes something we know now. And I believe it's important that we know these things. I think the choice to bury our heads in the sand is a poor choice, one that stops change from happening, one that perpetuates pain and suffering. Knowledge has always been my base of power. It is for most of us. But sometimes, reading the stories of 35 women who have been assaulted by one man hurts so incredibly much. And I don't know what to do with that hurt. Where to put it.

So I asked Ashley that too. And she answered beautifully again. She said, "When people tell you their stories, they aren't asking for anything from you therapeutically. They're asking you to bear witness. So you take a moment and you honor their story. And you bear witness to their truth. And that is all they need from you."

Which is all to say, survivors who have shared their stories, privately, publicly, in whatever way you have been able to: thank you. I hear you. I sit in solidarity with you. I am your witness.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Wisdom from my 40th Year

So tomorrow is my birthday and as I reflect back over the year I turned 40, I thought it might be worth dropping some things I learned (because we can always still be learning!).

On Writing:

1. Publishing is difficult and unpredictable and wonderful. It is not fair. You will likely always be looking up, wishing for more. This is good if it fuels the work. It isn't good if it stops you from getting your shit done. We all have one job: keeping people reading. You do that however you do that, but if you find yourself mired in shit that has nothing to do with that one job, it is a good idea to refocus.

Here's how I have convos with myself...
Me: Oh my God, did you see...?
Me Also: Yes, now get back to work.
Me: But...
Me Also: How do you keep people reading?
Me: Writing good books.
Me Also: Right. Carry on with that.

On Time:

2. No one is on time anymore. I think we live in a world of "over-promise and under-deliver" now. I've done this myself, because I don't like saying no and I bite off more than I can chew. I would like to say no more and pretend I'm not Wonder Woman. Everyone should do this. Everyone should also be respectful of other's time. A lot of people are not. It's okay, it happens, but I'm sorry goes really far.

On Faith:

3. The loud people do not speak for the rest of us. Most of us are quite fine with how you want to live and how you want to have a relationship with God or if you want to have one. As Momastery's Glennon Boyle Melton says, "Everybody's in, baby." That's the way God works. Anyone who tells you different has their own agenda. Look closely at agendas. Look at them the same way you look to see who's funding research studies. EVERYBODY IS IN when it comes to God.

On Anger:

4. I've been fighting against sexual violence for a long time. I will always work toward making this better for other survivors. But the fight drains me. Arguing on social media or even in real life—it's exhausting to me. However, I realize that talking with rape survivors, honoring their stories, helping how I can, that is what rejuvenates me. Yesterday, my friend Courtney pointed this out and I loved it: "Anger doesn't have the fuel that love does. It can't last as long." That might not be true for other people, but it's true for me.

On Parenting:

5. Show up. Ask questions. Talk to your kids about difficult things. Play, read, yell, apologize. Acknowledge that it isn't always awesome, acknowledge that sometimes it is. Have a life that isn't completely woven into theirs. Be patient when they give you lice.

On Friendship:

6. Ask for help. Offer help. Tell your people you love them. Laugh and cry and find the people who won't judge you for either. Don't put anyone on a pedestal. Don't think they're more amazing than they are. We're all flawed. It's okay. Everybody is still in.

On Courage:

7. Do something you didn't think you could do. Something very specific that is maybe a little crazy. You don't have to do something risky every day—because honestly, we're not extreme sports junkies—but this year, pick a thing. For me it was roller derby. For Julio, it was quitting his job. For Mandie, it was running a half-marathon. For Carrie, it was starting a podcast. One. Thing. That's it.

That's it. Love you, friends!


Monday, March 2, 2015

Thank you, my dear friends...

I'm writing this blog with tears in my eyes and a heart that is three sizes bigger than it was an hour ago. I got a letter in my inbox tonight. A series of letters, actually. Love letters from friends. I almost couldn't read them, I feel so incredibly unworthy of them at this moment. And yet I did read them. Every last one. And they meant the world to me. They mean the world to me.

I am carrying a lot right now. For different reasons, I am having a rough go of it. Julio sent me to Florida with my parents to "soak up sun and get better." I want that for me too. But it is hard to put down the things we carry, as much as our friends tell us they are there for us.

Tonight, I didn't have to put anything down. It was taken from me, and I remembered that I am not alone. None of us are. Writing is such a strange and lonely business sometimes. But there is no community that is better. There are no people who are greater at sitting beside you and saying, "yes, I understand, I have been there."

The other day I texted a friend and said, "I don't know how to ask for help because I don't know what I need. I would call you, but I have nothing to say." He responded, "Which is kind of everything. I am here. You're enough."

I have lost so many people. I have messed things up and made myself impossible to love, and still, tonight, I got a series of notes in my inbox that said, "you are loved." Last week, I got a text saying "you are enough."

I don't know how to say thank you. I don't know how to tell the people I love how much I love them. I don't know how to give them all that I want to, all that they deserve. I want to be a better friend. I want to be a better wife, a better mom, a better sister, a better daughter.

I have nothing to give in this moment beyond my gratitude, and a promise to try harder to take away the burdens from others as they always have found a way to take away mine. Thank you, my dear, dear friends, the ones in my inbox, and the ones who have stayed in spite of me. I love you all.