Val over at Obsidian Bookshelf asked a while ago how often an author has to publish to stay relevant. There are some interesting answers and be sure to check out the thread over there. I remembered this thread when I started feeling overwhelmed by keeping up with author releases.

What stands out to me though is that lately authors seem to be publishing at lightening fast rates. Gone are the lengthy waits of six months to a year for your next author piece. With the instant publishing of electronic publishing (and decreasing quality of cover art, editing, and proofreading), there are dozens of new books every day in every genre. Lately it seems you can’t trip over your front step without falling on an author or aspiring author.

To that, I can only say thank god. As a reader, I love authors. So write, write, write.

Yet the caveat to that is that I’m finding I can’t keep up with even favorite authors, let alone new ones. In the past two months, there have been a total of 32 short stories, novellas, anthologies, novels, and free reads by authors that I consider “auto buys.” And believe me, this is not an extensive list. It’s still in single digits.

This list doesn’t include the some dozen + new releases being touted within the upcoming month and I’m left with fatigue trying to keep up with a list to buy, let alone read, and all those new authors? Yea good luck. All of this and I consider myself a pretty fast reader.

I can see why the novella is the best selling length. Who has time to sit down and a read a novel anymore? I’ve started checking page count and actually had to remind myself that I read for *PLEASURE* and thus, word count doesn’t matter. If it takes me *gulp* a week to finish a book, it’s ok.

And honestly this has nothing to do with reviewing. It’s just the fear of getting so far behind on the never ending crush of new releases that I’ve totally given up on my old release pile.

With new books introduced every single day and authors publishing numerous times a month, how does any reader keep up? How do you even –remember- all the new releases, names, titles, publishers?

I know everyone likes to say there is no competition within writing since it’s about individual choice but come on. There are only so many hours in my day and dollars in my budget I can allocate to reading and if I can’t keep up with my favorite authors, how am I ever going to discover that rare gem?

How do you do it? Because frankly I’ve already forgotten the title of the new JCP I wanted to buy and there’s a new Lethe Press that caught my eye and somewhere I forgot where I put my copy of The Coming Storm…and well.. you get the picture.

And authors – while I adore you (really I do) – why are you publishing so fast and so much? I promise I’ll still read your new releases even if you don’t publish 2 a month. I pinky swear.

Everyone’s heard about writer’s block and the many ways that writers fight it and try to get past it.  It’s something that every single writer experiences at one time or another and each time it’s a matter of either pushing past it or waiting it out.  Sometimes the words just don’t want to come and forcing them makes it even more difficult.

Lately I’ve started to wonder…is there a similar experience for reviewers?  Let’s call it “reviewer’s block” for lack of a better term.  Reviewing is most definitely a form of writing so it makes sense that at times it would be…well difficult.  I’ve experienced this myself quite a few times and am curious to see if others agree with me.  I’ve noticed that my reading patterns definitely have a cyclical nature to them, but so does my ability/motivation to review.  There have been times where writing a review comes easilyand I could whip out several in the span of just a few days.  Hell I’ve had a couple months in the past where I wrote a review every single day!  Then there are the other times when it seems close to impossible to form thoughts about a book to put together a review.  Where each word is like pulling teeth.

I’ve read several books recently that I haven’t reviewed and I’ve been pondering why.  It’s possibly because the books just didn’t elicit very much of a reaction from me.  They weren’t bad by any means, but they were okay reads, something to pass the ungodly number of hours I spend on the train commuting.  A few years ago it would have been nothing to read the book, decide I’m never going to read it again, pass it on and never give it a second thought.  But since I entered the world of reviewing, I’ve gotten to the point where I feel actual guilt for each book I read that I don’t review!  But then I think of how there just aren’t enough hours in the day and wonder why I feel like I must torture myself to write a review when I feel like there really isn’t much to say beyond, “It was an okay read but nothing spectacular.”

At the same time, I’ve definitely learned something about myself that I had a suspicion about but now I know it’s fact.  I don’t really enjoy having a long list of books I must review.  The more books I have to review, the slower I seem to go!!  It might be because it seems like an unsurmountable task to get through, even though I can logically admit that slowly but surely I’d make it through.  My brain instead gets sidetracked on other books or other projects and the poor books I’m meant to review don’t get finished.  And the books I do read don’t get reviewed either!  Rock, meet hard place, y’all have a lot in common.

As the weather improves and we enter the awesomeness of summer, at least in my hemisphere, I don’t think my pace with reviewing will necessarily increase, but right now I’m hoping to get over the top of the hill and go back to a steady pace of reviewing.  I will defeat my reviewer’s block!  Right?

Are there others out there that have had the same kind of experiences?  Do you find that you go through phases where you just can’t put together a review to save your life?  What did you do to get back into the reviewing groove?  Do you think it’s possible to simply burn out on reviewing? 

I find this a pretty interesting question because it seems that excerpts are pretty common place. They’re on publisher sites, vendor sites, promo blogs, review blogs, author sites. If you want to read an excerpt for a book, either upcoming or published, there are any number of sources to get to it.

But what also strikes me is I wonder how often readers actually take advantage of this. I know that I skip lengthy excerpts entirely and only read those by authors I know -and well it’s always a nice thing to leave a note encouraging authors, after all they work hard for our entertainment. But excerpts mean very little to me honestly.

I find excerpts don’t offer much unless the selection is the very beginning. Picking up in the middle of a random scene frustrates me, even if it’s an obvious scene because I don’t appreciate it. I know going in I’m going to lack the appropriate context so why bother? If it’s at the very beginning it’s too early into the book to know if the voice, writing style, or characters are going to develop or perhaps annoy.

So what does an excerpt offer? It’s supposed to give the reader a glimpse into the novel. Entice you to want to read more. But really, does it ever? I wonder
if the size matters. A smaller excerpt can keep the short attention span we all have but longer excerpts may get readers involved in the story more. Does it matter?

If you read excerpts, you do often buy books based on them?

I honestly think the title, cover art, and blurb are the essential keys to getting someone to buy a book. After that, it’s up to the writing to deliver but I’m curious what others think.

So… what do you think of excerpts? Good, bad, immaterial?

No I’m not talking about elections, especially since politics is at the very top of my list of topics that I like to stay away from. Instead what I’d like to discuss for a bit are the sites out there that provide a water cooler of sorts for readers to gather and discuss books, and how the ratings seem to be a bit skewed at times.

I have a very OCD brain, so when I discovered LibraryThing a few years ago it made me insanely happy. Perfect, I thought to myself, a place online where I can create a catalog of my books so I can cross reference what I have and group and sort and just revel in the list of my thousands of ebooks. And I’m not joking when I say thousands, but then I’ve talked about that here before. LibraryThing has a very spreadsheet-like layout which works really well for me and I simply adore it. At the time I didn’t know about Goodreads but I’ve also started to use that as well. There’s yet another site called Shelfari that I don’t use but it’s the same concept and I’m sure there are others out there. All of the sites are used by readers to create a catalog of books they own, read, want, need, love, etc.

In addition to creating lists upon lists, readers are able to provide ratings of books and their own reviews. In general, all of the sites have become a great resource for readers, a place to gather and discuss books in all their glory. Goodreads in particular has really taken off in this area, and there are groups and a plethora of interesting conversations going on through the site among readers from all over the world.

The ratings in particular are quite useful, from my perspective. Not many readers want to sit down and write a review, but a lot more are willing to put a star rating on a book with just a simple click. And some even jot down a few quick thoughts to let other readers know what they thought of a book. Just like with review sites, the ratings are always subjective and each reader is very different. Similar to on Amazon, all ratings are combined together to create an average score for a book that any reader will see at the top of the information about a book.

Along with readers, there are also a lot of authors that are active on sites like Goodreads. This makes sense of course since authors are very often avid readers themselves. By adding their own books to the site catalogs, authors gain a promotional tool and provide readers with information about their stories. However lately I’ve noticed an interesting trend. Many times I see an author add their own work to the site, and also provide a rating. Now, authors put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into their writing and most of the time feel that their published work is deserving of a high rating, and rightfully so. But when it comes to a site where readers are rating a book that they’ve read, is it fair for authors to be providing a rating of their own work? Of course an author is going to give their own book 5 stars, but what does that then do to the rating overall? Do readers realize when they are looking at an average score, that it could be based on a few reviews from readers as well as a rating from the book’s own author?

I’ve heard that some authors feel it just doesn’t look right not to have a rating for a book in their catalog, so they rate their own book as well using the 5 star rating. I don’t recall ever seeing a site provide the option to say, “I can’t rate this because I’m the author” or “I’m the author so I’m going to rate this but don’t include it in the average rating.” From an author’s perspective, they really aren’t given an alternate option on these sites. Of course, since the sites really are designed more for readers that seems fair. I find it interesting when I see a book with a 4.5 overall rating but then when looking into more of the detail find that most of the ratings are 3 stars or lower but with the 5 star rating from the author the average stays up high. I’ve learned to always take the average rating with a grain of salt and pay more attention to the details, but not everyone takes that time.

Do you think it’s fair for authors to provide 5 star ratings of their own books? Do you look at the overall rating of a book on these sites? Would your desire to purchase/read a book be affected by the overall rating? Should these sites provide an alternative for authors?

*And for those that might be curious, the picture above is indeed an iPhone but it’s not *my* iPhone and yes, it really does ask you to rate an app when you are deleting it from your phone. Crazy, I know.

While a lot of us appreciate two dicks more than just one, today I’m going to talk about two authors instead of one. I have a lot of respect for authors, especially those that work well with others. Not only do they have to worry about what they write, but add another person with their own ideas, preferences, and habits to add into the mix. How does this work?

This is especially fascinating for me when I realize that sometimes it makes no sense. I can like an author’s solo work really well but not so much the efforts with another writer, or vice versa. Sometimes authors come together to offer a stunning piece of fiction and sometimes it just doesn’t blend well and readers get whiplash going back and forth.

No doubt it’s a complicated process and so I reached out to several authors and asked them to answer three questions. I only chose three because everyone is super busy with life and I hoped limiting the questions to three would make it fast and easy for everyone. I was surprised and gratified by the great response. Authors were eager and happy to share their experiences. In fact save one author, everyone responded. So first of all, thank you so much to the busy authors who took time to offer their opinions and insights. I know I can’t be the only one rabidly curious about the writing process.

Of the answers I received, most said the process is very natural and easy. Most agreed their co-writer never wrote something they disagreed with, which is incredibly impressive. Maybe these authors are being kind (since you know I was going to quote them) but they all seem genuinely excited to write with their co-authors. I can imagine anything from excitement to trepidation so their answers are pretty interesting.

Here are some of the responses:

When writing with another author versus writing alone, how much of one or the other’s style comes across? Or do you try to blend them into a new style?

My and Anna’s style are very similar anyway.  We’re sort of two peas in a pod about a lot of things.  For our first co-authored story, All the Things You Are, we each took a character and were responsible for writing that character’s POV.  (I had Bryant, since he and I are from the same part of the country. J) In our second story, Equinox, we only used one POV, so it was really unique the way that worked.  I had the framework of the story but couldn’t get the character voice, so Anna wrote a large portion of the narrative within my plot framework, and then I went back through and filled in the blanks or wrote little branching-off tangents.  I don’t know if we consciously try to blend our voices, but we edit each other’s work, so I’m sure it blends naturally at a certain point.

Is the process natural or difficult for you?

It depends. Most of the time, my and Anna’s vision is usually pretty similar, or at least fills in the blanks where the other person couldn’t figure out what to do, so for us it’s more natural. If we disagree on things, we usually talk it out and run through the pros and cons of both visions, and usually will either go with whomever makes more sense, is more invested in their idea, or find a third path neither of us had thought of.  Kennedy and I still plan to try to write together someday, and fuck knows how that’s going to turn out.  You’ve seen us on Twitter.

What happens if you don’t particularly like something your co-author has written?

I ask questions and try to phrase things as mildly as possible.  “I’m not really sure about this section.  It feels kind of off to me.  What were you trying to get across here?  How can we do it differently?”  I try to articulate exactly what bothers me, and then give her first swing at revising it.  If she can’t figure it out or asks me for suggestions, I’ll give them.  She treats me pretty much the same way.  We’re just generally very nice to each other. J  Sometimes I like what she’s written, but I’ll suggest improvements anyway just because I see some way it could possibly be even better.  We build off each other very well.

M. Jules Aedin who has a two new stories (one co-written with author Anna Linden) in the Curious anthology out now. Apparently ze has a hive mind with hir co-author and best friend. Two minds like Aedin’s? That’s some scary shit.

What about someone also pretty new to the co-authoring business like the fabulous Sean Kennedy (I must pimp his Tigers and Devils, it’s that good). He and Catt Ford recently put forth a joint effort in Dash & Dingo, which has gotten generally rave reviews about the blogsphere. Here’s a great case where I’ve like the individual work of the authors a lot but jointly, I wasn’t so sure about it.

When writing with another author versus writing alone, how much of one or the other’s style comes across? Or do you try to blend them into a new style?

Catt and I usually work on separate bits and pieces of the story, but when we pass them onto each other we are forever editing, rewriting or deleting from it –  so at the end of the process we kind have developed a new style together by incorporating both of us into the writing.  It’s not like, ‘oh, you do this chapter, and I’ll do the next’ –  otherwise it would be just disjointed and wouldn’t flow at all.  It’s a long laborious process, but it never gets boring – at least, not until the professional edits come through and you’re so sick of reading the damn thing you never want to see it again.  That passes, though.

Is the process natural or difficult for you?

I actually think it’s more difficult for me than it is for Catt.  She writes whatever comes into her head, at whatever point that the story comes to her.  When I write my own books or stories I write very linearly – I might get an idea for a later conversation or event, and jot down lines or ideas, but I still write the story as it progresses and then go back and edit edit edit much later to make it all cohesive and make sure the beginning matches everything that follows.  So when I get pieces from Catt, my mind is just screaming at me, ‘wait, where’s this from? Is this meant to be after such and such, or before this and that? How do we get from here to there?’ Luckily Catt is able to fill me in on that, or I would probably just go and sit on the couch and never write again.

What happens if you don’t particularly like something your co-author has written?

Ha, we just went through this recently while working on the sequel to Dash and Dingo where Catt didn’t think what I had written fitted in with the story.  We both take each other’s criticisms very well, although we both feel guilty about doing it.  Often the one who says something should be fixed or removed is the one going ‘are you okay? Would you like me to make you a cup of spiritual tea?’ (as we are not even in the same hemisphere to provide the real thing) long after the other person has moved on and isn’t even thinking about it anymore.  We both have extreme guilt complexes.  Fortunately, it doesn’t seem to happen that often, or Dash and Dingo’s adventures would have ended at book one.

From the lovely Mx. Aedin’s and funny Mr. Kennedy’s contributions, it’s clear there is a wide range between these partnerships. But no dirt yet. I can just imagine Sean and Catt one-upping their apologies to each other. Thankfully the general consensus is a great effort. From there, I was really curious about some long time writing duo’s. What about some of those really well known authors that work together all the time. Several very nicely replied with gracious answers.

First up I asked Dianne Fox, most well known for writing of her own and with Anah Crow. Although this duo seems like two very different personalities to mix, their style apparently is a lot easier than you’d think. Be sure to check out their upcoming “Tatterdemalion” coming this Tuesday from Samhain and will be reviewed the same day here on TDB.

When writing with another author versus writing alone, how much of one or the other’s style comes across? Or do you try to blend them into a new style?

The style of writing that comes through when I write with my co-writer is definitely different from either of our individual styles. We don’t necessarily *try* to blend them into a new style — it’s far more natural than that. We simply write differently together than we do apart. We also tend to write different kinds of stories together than we do individually.

Is the process natural or difficult for you?

It’s definitely very natural. We’ve been writing together for years now, longer than either of us has been published. Maybe in the beginning it was more difficult, but I don’t think so. I remember it always feeling very natural and *fun* to write together.

What happens if you don’t particularly like something your co-author has written?

I don’t think that’s ever happened. I’d tell her that I didn’t like it. More often, what happens is that something one of us writes doesn’t work for a particular story — she has a tendency to go off on tangents, and I have a tendency to simplify too much. We call each other on it, and talk about the best ways to fix those sections of the writing to bring it back in line with the story as a whole. We’ve been working together long enough that if either of us was going to be thin-skinned or tentative about those sorts of things, we’d have gotten over it long before now!

So it seems it’s pretty natural and they clearly know each other well enough that they can be honest. I totally agree their writing style is very different together than apart. And yet I find their joint books can vary pretty widely as well. Keeps the intrigue going for sure. What about another long time co-author like Madeleine Urban who frequently writes with several other authors. I’ve liked several books she’s done with other authors and it’s hard to choose.  I wonder if it’s like cheating to write with all her other co-authors?

When writing with another author versus writing alone, how much of one or the other’s style comes across? Or do you try to blend them into a new style?

I think my writing style specifically blends well with other authors’, which is why I’ve done well with several different writers as partners. I believe (though they may disagree), that the other writer’s style comes across more strongly, because I try to weave my writing into theirs. It definitely blends, though, because I’ve had readers tell me that my writing on my own is very different than with co-authors, and that the writing really varies from co-author to co-author. The overall goal is to blend and make a writing style that is utilizes the strengths of both authors and shores up the weaknesses of both authors.

Is the process natural or difficult for you?

Co-writing is more natural to me than writing on my own. Perhaps it’s a matter of motivation, but I also take a lot of enjoyment from collaborating, and I’m very close friends with each of my co-authors. It can be great fun, writing together, and such a great way to learn and improve as a writer, whereas I end up just staring at a blank sheet, intimidated, if I’m trying to write on my own. If it weren’t so natural for me to collaborate on writing, I don’t think I would have seen as much success as I have with three different combinations (Abigail Roux, Rhianne Aile, and Ariel Tachna). I’ve pretty much quit all solo writing, although I won’t rule it out forever.

What happens if you don’t particularly like something your co-author has written?

Depends on the co-author and what the “something” is. Sometimes I just edit it. Sometimes we talk it over. A few times it’s come down to a mutual agree to disagree, and the item is either left as is or removed altogether. In the end it’s all about collaboration. The writing wouldn’t exist at all without both our contributions.

I was also curious about Bethany Brown and her work with Ashlyn Kane. I’ve read both their joint work and individual and Kane did a fabulous short piece in the curious anthology. You can find their books and information at their lovely website here.

When writing with another author versus writing alone, how much of one or the other’s style comes across? Or do you try to blend them into a new style?

Well, I’m not sure about anyone else, but I find that the reason that Ashlyn and I work so well together is becasue we were friends first. We worked together for at least a year before we even entertained the idea of writing a book together. Which makes it so much easier when we run into problems. We have no problem telling each other when something doesn’t work.

Is the process natural or difficult for you?

Our writing styles are fairly similar. Well, at least they are now. I can barely remember if they were different when we started. It also helps that we seem to share the same brain. Seriously, we do. It’s easy for us to break up scenes. If someone comes up with a really neat idea, they get to write it. If someone needs help, they ask.

What happens if you don’t particularly like something your co-author has written?

You need to make sure you talk about all plot point beforehand so that there is no confusion where the story is going. Plus, that way if something really doesn’t work, your co-author can tell you that you’re being an idiot.

You should also make sure you both have the same handle on the characters-it’s no good if one of you has one view of the character and the other takes them in a totally different direction.

The most important thing that you need to do when you have a co-author is talk. Communication is key.

Plus, if you’re on good terms with your co-author, you can whine until the agree to look over the novel you wrote on your own.

So there you have it. Most like their co-authors (shocking!) but it seems some find it more natural than others. There are only a thousand more questions I wanted to ask but can’t overwhelm them too much. They do have to actually write something for our entertainment as well.

What about you peanut gallery?
Do you like co-authored pieces?

(Dicks, man.)

Not the body part, but the dude. You know the guys I’m talking about: the bad boys, the anti-heroes, the tools, the jerks and the mean boys. The guys you hate to see your hero hook up with, even though you can totally sympathize with the smoldering hot appeal.

But how much is too much? What crosses the line from Bad Idea Boy to Intervention Time? And where do you, as the reader draw that line? At what point does smoldering danger erupt into charred and blackened ruins?

In some ways, the phrase I love to toss around in my reviews–”unlikeable protagonist”–is inadequate to describe the ways in which protagonists can fail as characters and still appeal to a reader.

I tend to measure toolitude along two axes: likeability and interestingness. And this is going to be way easier with examples, so let’s get to it.

Bad Boy #1: Unlikeable But Fascinating

Look, there are plenty of truly great romances out there where one of the parties is a Grade A certifiable jackass, but the important thing is that the jackass in question is fascinating. He keeps you reading because you want to know what makes him tick; he’s not just Darth Vader in assless chaps, but a full-blown, three-dimensional human being, flawed and difficult but compelling to watch, nonetheless.

Case in point: Justin from Divas Las Vegas. Justin is self-centered, egotistical, high-maintenance, unstable and plays fast and loose with the truth and yet at the same time, he is fascinating. You can plop Justin down in the middle of the Sahara with a compass and a crust of stale bread and you just know five days later he’s King of Persia. And you will show up at his court to watch him be fed small sweet pickles by heavily muscled men, and you will be dying–dying!–to hear how he got there. Justin is just that kind of boy. You forgive him so much because he is so frequently a trainwreck in motion.

Another case in point: EM Forster’s Maurice. The title character is not very likeable at all. At all! He’s self-centered and conflicted and makes selfish and terrible decisions aimed at protecting his perch on the shelf at the top of the closet, next to the hat boxes. But at the same time, watching him come to terms with his sexuality and making an attempt to come to terms with his desires and the choice he has to make as to how he will lead the rest of his life–makes Maurice intriguing. Just like with Justin, you can’t look away, but for entirely different reasons. Watching Maurice grow is one of the rewards of the story.

Bad Boy #2: Unlikeable But Redeemed

If a protagonist is just being mean for the sake of meanness, or never gets past his meanness and moves on, I’m out. If he never grows as a person, if he never matures and locates the stepladder that lets him get over himself, he’s not gonna get my stamp of approval. But if he can pull it together? That’s an interesting guy.

For instance, in Twice the Cowboy, Twice the Ride, Manuel skates perilously close to Mean Boy territory a couple of times, but as the story unfolds, you learn that it’s wariness and cultural differences that are contributing to the appearance of meanness. That knowledge, and how Manuel communicates it to his partner, Jesse, and Jesse’s consideration of it–whether it explains everything and whether Manuel’s worth sticking around to watch mature–contributes a wonderful undertone of depth and realism to the love story. And yes, eventually Manuel does grow and try and really gets outside his comfort zone for Jesse, because they are in love. And it works.

Similar idea: Alec in Ellen Kushner’s Swordspoint. I know it’s a time-honored classic, but come on, show of hands, who thought Alec was kind of a dick for two-thirds of the book? Hm? Hm?

And yet, during that last third, it’s like he cracks open his ribcage and rips out handfuls of heartmeat to throw at his and Richard’s enemies, and it’s not just redeeming, it’s an absolutely stunning act of redemption that breaks your heart. Especially if you read “The Death of the Duke”, the novella that’s currently included in the mass-market paperback version. Get your hankies out.

Both these guys, Manuel and Alec, are what I consider examples of The Bad Boy Redeemed. Without the redemption–

Bad Boy #3: Unlikeable and Unredeemed

–you get Cam, from K A Mitchell’s Diving in Deep. Now, I get that the reader’s supposed to understand he’s locked away from his feelings and deep in the closet and working manfully through his issues to be the boy Noah can take home to his family but…but but but, Cam’s a tool. If I was Noah’s friend and saw that relationship going down, I’d be taking him for some carbs and talking to him about Bad Choices With Nice Abs. I didn’t want the two of them to end up together. Really, I didn’t.

This was a case where I simply couldn’t find the redeeming qualities underneath the thick layer of tool. And Cam really wasn’t as fascinating as Cam thought he was, regardless of how many coffee tables he destroyed using Noah’s admittedly ecstatic person. Cam was so mean. So mean. Noah might have forgiven him, but I never did.

But that isn’t to say Diving in Deep is a bad book; on the contrary, it features some of the hottest sex I’ve ever seen (did I mention the coffee table? I need to mention the coffee table. And the desk. Holy moses). An unlikeable protagonist is in no way a death knell for a book. But a bad boy left unredeemed is something that requires a very strong workaround.

I mean, even while I wanted Noah to leave Cam’s ass, I could respect why Noah stayed; Cam’s unredeemed dickness and Noah’s addiction to it were both realistic, and the strength of the rest of the storytelling is actually enough to support that. It’s a daring move, and one Mitchell made pay off.

Bad Boy #4: Unlikeable, Uninteresting and Unread

But sometimes, nothing can save a protagonist. Take, for instance–yes, I’m a horrible person–John Simpson’s The Ghosts of Stanton Hall. Fantastic premise: man inherits haunted manse complete with on-site crematorium (oh come on, like I’m the only one who thinks that would rock), sleeps with butler, lawyer and the ghost haunting the ancestral mansion. Now, I’m sorry, John, but Ryan could’ve decided to fuck a doorknob and it wouldn’t have made him any more likeable or interesting. He is dry, selfish, shallow and not particularly intelligent. We’re told he’s handsome, but then again, so’s a well-made pair of shoes, but it doesn’t make you want to have sex with them*.

Then there are the good guys who make bad decisions. They’re a whole separate breed.

Bad Boy #5: The Temporary Bad Boy (Good Man, Bad Brain)

There’s definitely something to be said for a guy who comes across all gleaming teeth and perfect abs, then makes a major mis-step. It humanizes him somehow, to see a soft, squishy fallible underbelly.

In Chris Owens’ Bareback, when Tor did That Thing (look, I’m not going to spoil it for you; go read the book, it’s outstanding. Five stars) was there anyone who didn’t wince? I bawled like an infant. Seriously, my partner came flying in from the other room to see if I’d been injured. And while it hurt to read about what he and Jake went through, at the same time, I loved watching how they handled Tor’s misstep. I understood why he did it and how much he had to grow to move past that moment and be the man Jake truly deserved, so that I could love the sequel, Natural Disaster, that much more. (Seriously. Five more stars! Love those books.)

Sarah Monette’s The Bone Key is a haunting and thought-provoking collection of ghost stories with a somewhat wishy-washy protagonist, Kyle Murchison Booth. And Kyle really only became fully real to me in the story “Elegy for a Demon Lover”, where he lets an incubus into his home.

You and I know full well that that’s a horrible idea, and so did Kyle; right from the start he knew something was off but he was so desperate for the contact, so anxious to keep having the guy all to himself that he prayed his instincts were wrong. That they weren’t, of course, lends the story nearly all of its punch. The remaining impact is driven by Kyle’s heartbreak and loneliness both before his incubus’ arrival and after, when his departure leaves Kyle alone in his sumptuous but ultimately empty apartment.

They’re good men who toy with terrible ideas but ultimately emerge from their experiences with the same essentially likeable and loving personalities they went in with. And who doesn’t sometimes wish their good guy was, well…a little bad sometimes?

Next time, lest we get all tangled up in dangling genitalia: unpleasant lesbians! Come for the frigidity, stay for the hair pie!**

*Unless it does, in which case I am going to respect your informed, consenting choice from over here. *shoefucker powerfist*
** Show of hands, who needs that on a t-shirt for an ex-girlfriend or two?

Today is our last installment of the Celebrating GLBT Literature series where readers offered their insight. I’m posting a comment as it’s own topic because I’m not sure everyone saw this buried in the threads and it offers some really great recommendations and thoughts.

Reader Cary:

I’ve enjoyed reading what everybody had to say about why they like GLBT lit. Hope it’s okay if I chime in with some of why I like it.

1. It is a kind of outsider lit, queer culture being something outside of the mainstream in some ways and yet very much part of the larger culture. (Some of the m/m romances I read these days are set in a world where same sex pairings are unremarkable — even firemen and cops having virtually no issues about gay coworkers. I don’t know that world, but it’s lovely that so many writers seem to, and maybe over time writing about that world may usher it into being.) I always feel myself to be a non-mainstream, more fringe person, and I like books that cover the gamut of life, but from a sort of sideways, semi-outsider perspective, which is something I especially like about GLBT literature.

2. How I found it. (Not that anyone asked.) I first fell into m/m books back in the early 1970s, when Mary Renault’s books were coming out in paperback and I was in high school probably. (So long ago, it’s all a bit misty and vague.) I loved Renault’s classical world themes, Ancient Greece and Alexander the Great, and they had these amazing romances between men. Did I know of such a thing before reading them? Well, I remember my best friend telling me he’d happened upon his brother and a male friend in the shower together, and I did know what that meant, even in junior high. In the classical world Mary Renault depicted, m/m pairings were mainstream, but in her contemporary or near-contemporary novels like The Charioteer, what a contrast — the ostracism of the m/m pairings. That’s what got me going on m/m from my high school days: gay friends and Mary Renault. (I didn’t know my best guy friends in high school were gay until later years, but that we all loved The Persian Boy was a big clue.) Have to admit that I thought the m/m pairings in Renault’s book were HOT, but I also thought back then that it was not okay to think that. (Transgressive.  ) In late 70s/ early 80s, I was hanging out with lesbians in law school (talking about women’s issues, naturally, in those days) and read some lesbian authors (for the sexual politics  ). Ten years ago or so, I started actively seeking out GLBT books again and found myself just really drawn to stories of gay life in particular. Ethan Mordden, Paul Russell, Christopher Bram, Mark Merlis, Patricia Nell Warren, Christopher Isherwood, John Preston, Allan Hollinghurst, Pat Barker, David Leavitt, Jim Grimsley, Jay Quinn, Michael Thomas Ford and so many others that just took me places I’d never been but that spoke to me and fascinated me. Mystery writers like George Baxt, Richard Stevenson, Joseph Hanson, Michael Nava and John Morgan Wilson. Impractical to try to name all the many, many other writers I came to know and admire (and my apologies if I’ve messed up any of the names). With the rise of e-books (and the way my home is just too full of print books and that I’ve exhausted my local library’s supply of GLBT books), I’ve been more on the light reading than the literature side lately and finding many new authors to enjoy.

3. It’s that never quite fitting in like you’re “supposed to” thing that I identify with very strongly in GLBT books. For romance in particular, I enjoy the m/m, because I don’t compare myself (as a woman) to the men in the romances, while in a m/f or f/f romance, I always feel a need to compare and I just don’t identify well with most of those heroines. When I was younger, I liked the m/f romances, but I just can hardly read them any more. And I always have liked the GLBT books for the alternate views of society and the courage of the characters and the authors.

4. And you never know what strangely transgressive things you may run into in GLBT writing. It makes me chuckle still how shocking I found George Baxt’s first Phoenix Love mystery. A Queer Kind of Death, I think it is. That book ran me into boundaries and expectations I didn’t even know I had. I won’t spoil it for anyone who might decide to seek it out. It was published maybe in the 1960s. It’s actually clever and delightful — and transgressive. I like to know that authors are capable of true originality that can still be accessible story telling.

Thank you to everyone that participated in this series, it’s been truly wonderful!

Today we have the perspective of two long time readers.

Val Kovalin @ Obsidian Bookshelf blog

What do you love about GLBT literature?

Two (or more) guys together are hot!

The power struggles between same-sex lovers are more interesting than the old m/f fiction clichés.

To pursue a same-sex relationship in an intolerant world involves risk and courage, and that’s interesting.

What would you like to see more of?

Like Tam, I’d love to see more diversity of setting. The settings should be vivid with landmarks, climate details, and a flavor of the place. As a reader, I am continuously dismayed at how many m/m stories are set in some generic, unspecified American city or sometimes a generic British city. Good examples of vivid settings include the way Lynn Lorenz described New Orleans in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, or the way A.M. Riley and P. A. Brown describe Los Angeles.

I’d love to see more interracial romances and multi-cultural romances, especially Hispanic culture. I’d love to see a lot more professions represented in realistic detail instead of just the usual vague mentions of self-employed “artist”, “writer”, “nebulous business executive”, “inherited wealth”, and my favorite –  ”owner of a BDSM club”. I mean, what does that involve exactly other than slinking around after hours at the club, looking cool? What about zoning laws, liquor licenses, and all the real world details?

In short, I think I’d like to see more real world details in m/m fiction. Sometimes it all seems too sketchy as if the writers are in so big a hurry to get published that they’re barely filling in any background to these plots at all.

And Kris @ Kris ‘n Good Books

What do you love about GLBT literature?

I’ve got to admit that when I first started reading GLBT fiction, primarily in the form of m/m romance and erotica, there was something so illicit about the whole genre that really tantalised and, yes, titillated me as a reader. However, what made me keep returning to it – and all but ditch m/f romance and erotica – was my overall sense that the relationship seemed more equal in m/m. I hadn’t realised how tired I was of what appeared to be the imbalance of the pairing in m/f; that is, it was always the woman who seemed to compromise more, to give up more, to get the HEA or the HFN.

Perhaps this is just my own prejudices as female being brought down upon the genre? Who knows. Yet, I don’t think this inequality exists in m/m to the extent that I perceived it in m/f. I really like that.

Associated with this, is my attraction to strong male characters. I’m not saying that I like my characters perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I think that when someone is dealing with such an inherent aspect of themselves such as their sexuality and the acceptance thereof it brings an honesty and strength to that person. I have a great admiration for that and nothing hits my happy reader buttons more than seeing two such men fall in love. I’m a sap. *g*

As a long time romance reader, I’m also enjoying the freshness that discovering GLBT fiction has brought to some of my favourite sub-genres such as fantasy, urban fantasy, speculative fiction and crime/thriller. Being a voracious reader, anything different is always good, including the exploration of GLBT themes within these sub-genres.

What would you like to see more of?

Well, I ranted about this the other day so I guess I’d better be consistent.  LOL.  I’ve been craving a story on the theme of mental illness.  The background to this was that I was suffering majorly from my own problem, which is depression.  At that time, all I wanted was a romance that would not only meaningfully engage with the subject, but also give me the happy, feel good ending.  A little light relief.  A little hope.

I did get some great recommendations in the comments for that post, although it is surprising how few books there are on this theme given the prevalence of mental illness in the community.  Maybe it’s not a sexy enough topic??

In all honesty, though, I am a mood read so I swing widely from one sub-genre to the next.  In addition to the above, at the moment I’m also wanting some good high fantasy stories along the lines of Lynn Flewelling’s Nightrunner series, M L Rhodes’ Draegan Lords series and Sharon Maria Bidwell’s The Swithin Chronicles.  Any suggestions welcomed!

We got back several responses and some we’re still waiting on. However we didn’t have email addresses for everyone so if you’d like to participate – which we’d love to be able to share different opinions from all kinds of readers, including authors who are readers too -please feel free to write up your own answers and contact us at threedollarbillreviews@gmail.com.

We’ll be continuing our series of celebrating the GLBT genre on Friday posts until all of the wonderful submissions we’ve gotten are shared. Some weeks we’ll offer more than one answer.  This series has sparked a lot of interest and some great discussion already. Past weeks have reader Tam offered insight into m/m romance, and author Jules Aedin wanting to see more diversity. This week we have a new author and long time reader to share their thoughts in the dual role of reader and new writer in this genre.

What do you love about GLBT literature?

I’m so glad you clarified “GLBT literature” because that phrase brings to mind classic works like the ones on jessewave’s list, most of which I’ve not read.  Hey, no one has ever accused me of having class.  Also, while I appreciate what all the letters in GLBT stand for, I can only speak to the “G” element (the m/m).

In some ways, what I love about this literature is what I love about any literature: a good story and well-drawn characters.

I’ve been giving this a lot of thought (which is why it’s taken so long for me to respond), and I think what it comes down to is that I just enjoy two men together.  That’s not terribly deep, and I wish I could respond with something brilliant and more meaningful. But I read for pleasure, and reading about men pleases me greatly.

I’ve grown disenchanted with the female protagonist over the years, with a few notable exceptions.  I do like that strong, ass-kicking woman you find in urban fantasy and while she’s become her own stereotype, it’s quite different from the norm. She’s a bit more manly, yes?   This probably goes hand in hand with my own journey of self-discovery, as I realize that even though I am definitely a woman, I’m not very feminine.

I love that you can find m/m in every genre, sci-fi, mystery, romance, etc.  I’ve read a greater variety of story types since discovering m/m than I ever would have otherwise, and mostly I’ve been pleasantly surprised.

I love the process of discovery between two men. This happens whether the characters are virginal or experienced, coming out of the closet or dancing in the streets, alphas or twinks.

There is an element of surrender in m/m lit that I find really attractive.  This can be completely sexual, of course, but it is also emotional and mental, and it can happen to one or both protagonists.  I don’t like this aspect of het romance, maybe that’s the feminist in me. But with two men? It’s touching, engaging, and hot.

What would you like to see more of?

At the risk of sounding like a bad punster, I’d like to see longer and meatier books.  So many are in that 7k – 25k word range and while I enjoy those at times, I really like to get involved in what I read.  Those are over before they begin.

In e-books, in particular, I’d like to see better editing.  I don’t mean to suggest that all, or even the majority, of these books are badly edited, but enough of them are to make it noticeable.  This runs the gamut from basic grammar and punctuation errors, to consistency and story structure.

Finally, I’d like to see gay characters in mainstream fiction.  I would love to see gay main characters (not just secondary ones) in the urban fantasies I read.   Wouldn’t it be nice if the things we love about GLBT literature were not hidden away from the general reading public?

Wren @ http://wrenboudreau.blogspot.com/

We got back several responses and some we’re still waiting on. However we didn’t have email addresses for everyone so if you’d like to participate – which we’d love to be able to share different opinions from all kinds of readers, including authors who are readers too -please feel free to write up your own answers and contact us at threedollarbillreviews@gmail.com.

We’ll be continuing our series of celebrating the GLBT genre on Friday posts until all of the wonderful submissions we’ve gotten are shared. Some weeks we’ll offer more than one answer.  This series has sparked a lot of interest and some great discussion already. Last week reader Tam offered insight into m/m romance and this week we have an author to share their thoughts in the dual role of reader and writer in this genre.

What do you love about GLBT literature?

Well, I AM GLBT.  Ahaha, and yeah, I’m pretty much all the letters in that acronym.  It’s a long explanation.  At any rate, it’s my family, my home.  It’s the same thing I love about reading a story set in a town I’ve lived in—the little cues of familiarity, the feeling of being more connected with the story because you know what they’re talking about.  I love when there’s a book that really connects to that experience, that minimizes the exotic, eroticized freak show aspect in favor of not only depth of character but depth of experience.  Being gay isn’t all pride parades and dodging haters with baseball bats (although where I’m from, there’s plenty of that too), so I’m always extra happy when there’s an author who takes the time to really get inside the nuances of what it’s like.  I tend to gush about them when it happens.

What would you like to see more of?

Unfortunately, somehow “GLBT literature” is seemingly becoming synonymous with (primarily m/m) “romance,” and I feel like there’s a lot more that could be written about the experience of being GLBT without involving romance as the central plot device, as much as I enjoy the romance novels.  So I would like to see more books—even within the romance genre, but particularly in more varied genres—exploring more parts of being gay than just, you know, sex.  Authors who identify as GLBT themselves tend to do this more than authors who don’t (obviously, since they understand the experience more intimately by having lived it), but I have faith that straight authors can be nuanced in their exploration of the GLBT identity as well.

Between the Lines - Transgender Comic

Also, I would really love to see more focus on Transgender characters.  That is the part of my identity that I feel most strongly about, and the T’s often get thrown under the bus in relation to the gay rights movement.  It makes me so incredibly happy when there are Transgender characters in a book, especially when they’re the main character.  I know it gets confusing for people who are into m/m for the “two guys together is hot” thing, trying to figure out if it counts as a “real guy” or not (which… please don’t say that aloud to anyone transgender. Please), but there is already plenty of cisgendered m/m out there for those folks.

IN ADDITION, I would love to see more characters of color.  I hear white authors talk about how they don’t know enough about what it’s like to be a person of color to write these characters, but I remind them: Many of them are straight women writing gay men.  And while they do have the whole “part of the anatomy I like to have sex with” thing in common, they don’t know what it’s like to be a gay man any more than they know what it’s like to be a person of color.  A little research will help out just fine.  Also, I’d like for some of the characters of color to be in relationships with other characters of color, not always the white/of-color interracial pairing.  I could go into a long explanation of why, but then I’d have to charge you for the sociology courses I’ve taken.   The short version is this: There is a sad pattern of racism within the gay community that views a white partner as “the most desirable” partner, and I’d like to see some of our fiction start setting that right.

And other additions: People who aren’t gorgeous, people who aren’t necessarily young, people who are in the working class or poor (without being reduced to a fetish), people who have physical, mental, and emotional disabilities…

So I guess basically, “More diversity.”  I’d like fiction that explores the full experience of being GLBT and fitting into more than one category, and that does it with respect and attention to detail.

M. Jules Aedin @
http://www.twitter.com/mjaedin – on Twitter
http://mjules.net –  website
http://mjaedin.livejournal.com -  professional blog

We got back several responses and some we’re still waiting on. However we didn’t have email addresses for everyone so if you’d like to participate – which we’d love to be able to share different opinions from all kinds of readers, including authors who are readers too – please feel free to write up your own answers and contact us at threedollarbillreviews@gmail.com.