Shelf Reflection

"Books! Books! All the books I'll need! All the books, all the books
I'll ever want." — "Time Enough at Last", The Twilight Zone

One of my least favorite sentences to hear is "We need to get rid of some books."

I bet that made some of you twitch, too. When my wife said this to me recently, my immediate reaction was denial. What do you mean we have to get rid of books? They're books! Unfortunately, the clear, simple logic of that argument is a bit too simple and oddly unconvincing, and while I may object to the necessity of the task, I'm not actually delusional. Not about this, anyway. As I looked around our apartment, even I had to admit that we have a book problem.

The thing is, I've never considered it a problem. Out of all the vices I could be into, collecting books is the most harmless. They're books. Books are good, worthy things. The more, the better — except when you're getting ready to move, or when you need to make more space in your apartment to, you know, live in. I've gone through a book cull each time I've moved, the most severe of them when we relocated from NYC to Philadelphia. Years of living in the publishing capital of the world tends to fill your shelves to bursting with free books, plus you attend a lot of readings and book launches of fellow writers. I'm also incapable of walking past a table selling used books without stopping (or at least slowing enough to survey the offerings), and there are many such tables lining New York's sidewalks. No matter the cost, no matter the diminishing space, I have never felt guilty about bringing home a new-to-me book, or an old favorite.

When we reached Philly, we had a smaller, but still large book collection. We immediately filled three Billy bookcases and an Expedit room divider from IKEA, with some room to grow. It turns out that only encouraged me; the books soon grew beyond those arbitrary boundaries, ending up in stacks on the floor and windowsill of my office. Many, many stacks. Serving on an award committee tends to fill your apartment quickly with free books, plus I began participating in a lot of panels, readings, and signings — often bringing home more books than I sold. Whatever, they're books.

So yeah, okay. Now I see that we have a problem. But I guess I'm the one with the issue, since I'm the one bringing most of these books in. It's not quite on level of hoarding, and it's hardly indiscriminate, but I definitely have more books than I have time to read, and that's been the case for a while. I'm a collector: I used to have a vast, nigh legendary VHS collection, which was decimated in the same NYC to Philly move, the essentials replaced on the much more compact DVD. I still have a sizable laserdisc collection, likely the next to be winnowed down. I have more than 200 8-bit Nintendo cartridges, painstakingly acquired and curated — which I will never get rid of. But the books are different.

I'm a writer now, but I was always a reader first, and I still am. I love books. They're what made me pursue writing in the first place! My wife loves books, too, but she doesn't seem to need to keep more than a couple shelves' worth of her best favorites around. Why can't I let them go?

It's not so much the possibilities that each book offers, though I like always having many books to choose from. Part of it is the fear that I'll want to reference a book I've read already and it won't be there. Or I'll want to reread a section or a story, and I won't be able to find it. I also want to keep around copies of books I've enjoyed to lend to people. I like being surrounded by books — it's part of my identity, there on display to all: I am a reader.

After pondering the situation a lot in the past week, I've decided that I like owning books. When I was a kid, we couldn't buy new books very often, so most of my reading came from the library. The small collection of books I had — built up from dime sales at the library, trips to the Salvation Army, yard sales, and gifts — was precious to me. I reread those books over and over again, and I still own many of them today. But somewhere along the way, once I could afford to buy books, the act of having them became more important than the act of reading. The more books I owned, the less I valued each one.

Having all those books to choose from at any time was pointless because I rarely picked any of them over some shiny new book I had just purchased, or my latest selections from the library. The books have become limiting, and as I consider each individually, I've discovered that my collection more reflects what I used to want to read instead of what I want to read right now. Still valuable perhaps, but I've been carting around some of these for more than 15 years, unread. Perhaps that ship has long sailed. I have accumulated a lot of short story collections, but I'm mostly reading YA novels these days, and my interest in reading short stories has waned a bit. Time to move on.

We're being much more ruthless on this go round, but I still have trouble discarding books for any number of reasons: That one's out of print. That one was written by a friend. That one is signed. That has a cool cover. That book wasn't that bad. Where do I draw the line? What I've come up with is a system that still varies from case to case, but boils down to keeping only favorites that I plan to reread, unread books I am definitely still interested in reading (and even some of those may be discarded if I can get them from the library), some books written by good friends, books I feel like holding onto for sentimental reasons, and signed/personalized books that I like. That latter category is the trickiest — I am really torn over passing on signed books, but I actually do have a lot of them now, and I want to prize the ones I decide to keep.

Also: Books are meant to be read and shared, and so in some ways, I'm freeing these books from their dusty captivity to hopefully inspire and delight other voracious readers. Another thing that's consoling me through this difficult process is the fact that eBooks are so accessible now. I am not a big fan of them — I still prefer paper, obviously — but I know I can call up an old book quickly if I need to. I have a lot of unread eBooks too, but at least they're only taking up space on cloud storage. I suspect that from now on, most of my new book purchases will be eBooks, unless I already know that book deserves a place on our shelves forever, and I'll continue to rely heavily on the library, which remains the best way to get free books. If I love a book enough to shell out for the hardcover even after I've read it, as I did recently with Jaclyn Moriarty's A Corner of White, then I know it's truly a keeper.

Where do you draw the line? How do you approach a dreaded book purge? Please share your tips for keeping strong and making those hard decisions below!

I ♥ Reviews

One of the most thrilling and terrifying things about being an author is knowing that strangers are going to review your books. If you're lucky, someone is going to pick your shiny ARC from a teetering pile of review copies — that's a fire hazard by the way, you should probably do something about that — and  write a review for a newspaper, blog, or trade magazine. Hopefully it will be a good one, and people who probably have never have heard of you will order your book. Then, in the ideal world that I'm imagining here because I'm a writer and I'm allowed, they'll read your book too and review it on Amazon and Barnes & Noble and Goodreads and tell their friends and family about how amazing you and your book are.

No doubt this scenario is entirely possible for a good many excellent books, but the harsh reality is that for every glowing review of the novel you and many others worked on for years, there will be many more middling reviews and some fairly scathing ones. Maybe a lot of scathing ones. Fortunately, authors have developed healthy coping mechanisms to deal with situations like this. Wine (and whining) are two of the most traditional methods, but the best protection for your fragile ego is abstinence: not reading reviews at all.

Oddly enough, though writing often requires inhuman levels of discipline, authors are notoriously undisciplined at things like: a) avoiding Twitter while writing, b) avoiding Facebook while writing, c) not checking Amazon rankings constantly to see how your book is selling, d) not checking Goodreads, and of course, e) writing.

"Don't read reviews" is probably very good advice, but like all writing advice, it really depends on the individual author. I was never interested in following that particular suggestion, because I actually love reviews. It's not because I'm a masochist (but isn't some measure of that necessary to be a writer, too?), but because reviews — any review, good or bad — is evidence that someone read your book, thought about it, and took the time to write about it. (Sometimes it's also evidence that someone bought your book, which is always a happy thing.)

Personally, one of the reasons I write is that I want to be read. I started out writing science fiction and fantasy short stories. For about five years I collected rejection slips, which don't necessarily indicate that your story was read all the way through, or at all. When I finally started selling fiction to small magazines and anthologies and websites, there was no way to know if anyone had ever seen my stories, let alone read them, and after a month most of those magazines had vanished from time and memory. In a few instances, a story of mine was mentioned in a review with lots of other stories, and might have gotten a short sentence or two, like, "This magazine also includes a story by E.C. Myers," or "This story had words!" In exactly one instance, I met someone who had just read one of my stories in an international magazine then came to a reading right after specifically to meet me, and yeah, that felt pretty good.

Having novels out in the world has been a completely different experience. I know people are reading Fair Coin and Quantum Coin because they're posting reviews and ratings all over the internet where they're very easy for me to find, whether I want to or not. (I do.) That's exciting, and I'm fascinated by how different people have wildly varying reactions to the same material; why are some people raving about last weekend's Hollywood blockbuster, Man of Steel, while I think it was a devastating failure in every conceivable way and a stunning example of how not to tell a story?

I enjoy the collaboration between author and reader, and I think I can learn a lot and continue to improve as a writer by reading reviews, especially from smart readers who read dozens of YA books each week for their blogs. I mean, they're basically free critiques, right? But then, I have a fairly thick skin for such things; I've been through intense writing workshops like Clarion West, and I participate in writing groups that dole out constructive, but honest and often harsh, criticism. Forgive me a brief flare of indignant frustration if you pan my book, but the moment passes quickly and believe me, your review is appreciated and I respect your viewpoint.

So I actually do check for reviews pretty frequently — too frequently. I read all of them, and I share the favorable and/or thoughtful ones on my website and on Facebook and Twitter. It's always nicer when someone likes my books, but if you didn't: I'm sorry it didn't work for you, and thank you.

There's often talk online that suggests reviews aren't meant for authors, but I'm always happen to see one pop up, particularly now when my books have been out for a while and they aren't getting as much attention anymore. So don't be shy: Please post your reviews on Goodreads and Amazon and Barnes & Noble! I want them for more than a potential sale that might result from the word of mouth. Whether they encourage me that I'm not a sham, or inspire me to improve, reviews can help make my next book better.

Oh, but there is one rule about reviews that I do follow, which I think every author should adhere to: Do not respond to negative reviews!

Finding the Right Agent

I'm borrowing this month's topic on how we found our agents because I'm not sure that I've ever blogged about it. On the surface, it isn't all that interesting because it was a fairly typical process, as by the book as you can get: I sent query letters to a bunch of agents, and eventually I got an offer. Of course, it sounds simple—perhaps even easy—when you describe it that way, but during the actual process it is simultaneously all-consuming, exhilarating, and devastating. You are thinking about it obsessively while trying not to think about it at all. As with most stages of publishing, it's a roller coaster ride with many emotional highs and lows; the key to making it to the end of the ride is staying on the coaster with your eyes wide open. Strap yourself in, don't look down, and hold on tight!

E.C. Myers: Reading Between the Lines

I'm so excited to be joining the League of Extraordinary Writers! I feel like Bad Horse (the Thoroughbred of Sin) has just invited me to join the Evil League of Evil, only this group seems relatively low in the evil department so far. So maybe it's more like joining the Justice League of YA specfic.

I always have a hard time with introductions, mostly because I hate talking about myself. I mean, everything you need to know about me is in the bio on my website, right? But I didn't want to just copy that, and then I realized there's actually a lot of stuff that didn't make it into that bio. So I decided to read between the lines a little and share some more personal stuff that my "official" bio merely alludes to.

E(ugene).C. Myers is the author of Fair Coin and Quantum Coin, young adult science fiction novels published by Pyr.

Yes, this is true! (Thanks again, Pyr!) The reason I decided to use my initials for fiction publications is because when I first started writing short stories, I Googled “Eugene Myers” and “science fiction” and came up with this. I didn’t want to get mixed up with that, so pseudonym! Plus, I’ve never really been fond of the name Eugene (at least, until I saw Tangled), but I definitely am one. Occasionally I still publish non-fiction work under my real name though. What’s my middle name, you might wonder? Charles. To make matters worse, I inherited this name from my father, so when I want to be pretentious, I go by Eugene Charles Myers, II.

He was assembled in the U.S. from Korean and German parts

This is probably the best thing I have ever written, or ever will write. (Well, I hope that isn’t true.) My mom is from South Korea, my dad had German heritage, and well, you can figure out the rest, especially if you read YA.

Alternate explanation: I am an android.

and raised by a single mother and a public library in Yonkers, NY

I owe so much to the influence of my awesome mother, who raised me and my older sister on her own, and the Yonkers Public Library system is more responsible for me becoming a writer than anything else. Sadly, the local library I grew up with (the Getty Square Branch, in the dodgy part of town) closed and relocated to a shiny new building, but I sometimes look for some of the books I remember at its new incarnation as the Riverfront Branch, which is fortunate to have a terrific YA librarian. The first science fiction book I remember reading and loving is Interstellar Pig by William Sleator.

where he survived an improbable number of life-threatening experiences—most miraculously, high school—with ample scars as proof.

If only I were exaggerating! How many times have I nearly died and/or suffered egregious harm? In order: I spilled boiling hot water all over myself (age 3), my family was supposed to be on a plane to Korea that was shot down, (age 5), I burned myself with fireworks (age 5), I was hit by a car (age 8), I nearly drowned (ages 9 and 11), high school (age 14-17), and my arm briefly caught fire (age 33). There are probably many other brushes with death that I’m not even aware of, as if this weren't enough. Really, there are probably very few alternate universes where I’m around, so I like this one a lot.

After a year in software development on Wall Street, he began a career in cable television and helped deliver quality women’s programming for nine-and-a-half years.

Yup. I worked at Lifetime Television, first as a tape librarian, then as a digital media manager. My favorite movie title there was Mother, May I Sleep With Danger?, with My Stepson, My Lover in a close second. I have also been a doorman, worked in the dining hall, worked as a communications specialist fixing people’s phones, designed and maintained websites, managed an office, and edited videos. Writing is by far the best job ever.

He attended the Clarion West Writers Workshop in 2005 and is a member of the professional writing group Altered Fluid.

Two of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

He currently lives with his wife, two doofy cats, and a mild-mannered dog in Philadelphia.

Marrying my wife was the best decision I’ve ever made. And then I didn’t have much of a choice on the rest… :)

In his increasingly scarce free time, he blogs Star Trek Re-watch reviews with Torie Atkinson at TheViewscreen.com, reads slush for Nightmare Magazine... ...reads constantly, lurks on the internet, plays video games, and pursues other extracurricular activities that prevent him from getting enough sleep.

Free time? What’s free time, precious? I do love watching movies (some of my favorites: Superman, Donnie Darko, Dark City, Pleasantville): and TV (The Twilight Zone, Fringe, Darkwing Duck) and playing video games, but those are low in my priorities these days. Still, I’m slowly working my way through a bunch of games, including The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, but my favorite genre is platform games like Super Mario Bros. I get about five or six hours of sleep a night.

Living in Dystopia

Please welcome Eugene Myers as our guest blogger today! His debut, FAIR COIN, came out in March of this year, and the sequel, Quantum Coin, just came out this month.

I attended what was considered to be a “rough” high school, though it probably wasn’t any more dangerous than any of the other public schools in Yonkers. We had fewer knifings than some of the others, anyway. But the acts of violence got bad enough in my senior year that the school district could no longer ignore them, so they decided on “random” metal detector sweeps of classrooms to deter students from bringing weapons to school. One of the classes they selected was my AP American History class, which was basically filled with the top 30 ranking students; strangely enough, all the metal detector wands picked up were the 3.5” floppy discs most of us carried around to store their work, which were incidentally erased by the sweep.

That year, we had a new principal, who had either come from a notoriously troubled school, or had previously been a prison warden, depending on whom you asked. He implemented stricter rules as soon as he arrived, including mandatory student IDs. But many of the changes that were supposed to protect students only made our lives harder while enabling the administration to keep better tabs on us. Moreover, it seemed like a unilateral punishment of everyone for the actions of a few—making us all feel like criminals. The metal detector incident in particular gave me the impression that the school didn’t truly want to find any weapons, because that would require them to deal with the situation and the media attention that came with it.

It was unsettling, a warning sign of more changes to come, but despite some efforts to improve conditions through subversive articles in our independent (ie. rogue) high school newspaper, me and my friends let it go. We were going to escape soon, so it wasn’t worth fighting the system too much. And indeed, soon after graduation, metal detectors were installed at all the entrances, and the school more closely resembled a totalitarian police state.

I bring this up, even though it dates me and makes me feel old—all this went down circa 1995—to illustrate my theory that one of the reasons why dystopian YA is so popular is because many kids live in dystopias today. I’m probably not the first to draw this comparison; the closest I can find online right now are essays about high school in Buffy the Vampire Slayer being a literal hell, with graduation equating the Apocalypse.

But if this idea is new to you, think about it: In most cases, teens are forced (by their parents and city governments) to go to school every weekday, where they have no power and little independence. Their schedules are strictly regimented and school administrations make the rules, some of them entirely arbitrary, enforcing them by meting out punishments like detention, suspension, expulsion, black marks on school records, revoked privileges, and other “disciplinary actions.” Lately schools have even been implementing camera surveillance, RFID tracking of students’ whereabouts, and even monitoring of students’ activities through their laptops and tablets. Kids can be suspended just for drawing on their desks, and then there’s the rampant peer bullying that so often goes unchecked by the powers that be. For some kids, life at home may not be much better. No wonder that adults are so often regarded with distrust in fiction and in life.

Granted, this comparison paints a bleak picture of our adolescent years, and represents an oversimplification of the broad dystopian genre, but my point is that even kids at the best schools and the happiest homes can relate to many of the problems dystopian protagonists face—and share the same hopes and fears. There’s the anticipation of escape at the end of it all, that if you play by the rules you can lead a better life one day, as well as the fantasy of defying the rules and improving everyone’s lot. You hang on until graduation or until you’re eighteen, thinking that it will all get better once you’re out of your school, your parents’ house, your hometown, and on your own.

Though my YA books, Fair Coin and Quantum Coin, are science fiction, they are not dystopian. But the protagonists do visit some dystopian parallel universes, including an alternate contemporary world where the United States is at war with the U.S.S.R., China, and much of Europe. The biggest problems for teens living in this dark, but eerily familiar version of the U.S. are a mandatory curfew and the fact that all of them will be drafted into military service as soon as they graduate high school—which, by the way, is in session on Saturdays. In the midst of a war, the protagonists from our universe are most shocked to find that high school lasts all summer long. They don’t even get a senior prom. It’s more shocking still that the teens who occupy that universe simply accept all this as the norm; it’s the only life they know, and what choices do they have, anyway?

We all experience our own private dystopias every day, whether it’s a restrictive school, an oppressive work environment, or a bad relationship. By reading dystopian and young adult fiction, we can feel less alone and more hopeful; these stories offer not only a temporary escape from our problems, but they can help inspire and empower us to seek a permanent escape from the darkness in our lives.

What dystopian elements do you see around you?

E.C. Myers was assembled in the U.S. from Korean and German parts and raised by a single mother and a public library in Yonkers, New York. He has published short fiction in a variety of print and online magazines and anthologies, and his young adult novels, Fair Coin and Quantum Coin, are available now from Pyr Books. He currently lives with his wife and a doofy cat in Philadelphia and shares way too much information about his personal life at ecmyers.net and on Twitter @ecmyers.