Indie Review

So last week I got my first, professional, real writer, ubber important, highly anticipated book review. It's something I've been anxiously awaiting since I submitted my manuscript 10 weeks ago. Literally on pins and needles waiting because I've been unsure how my work would be received and how I'd be critiqued. True, everyone who has read my book has loved it. Has raved about it. Even had a hard time believing I wrote it. But all these people were family members and friends. So in essence they had to be nice and their opinions are semi-biased. And they aren't professional readers/writers so they can't necessarily give me a valid critique. Friends and family aren't going to tell me I suck, have no business writing and should never pick up a pen ever again. Like it just doesn't happen.

Or so I thought.

Two weeks ago I had a bit of a run-in with a nay-sayer. My friends throw a St. Paddy's day party every year where we all get together, wear obnoxious Irish-themed t-shirts, and drink green beer all night. It always a great time but also filled with drunken antics. This year was no different and a lot of people showed up. One in particular I did not enjoy seeing. One of my friend's boyfriend--who is seriously a pompous asshole and the recipient of a great many eye-rolls among me and my friends due to his political rants and opinions ( want an example? He believes the teachers in the Philadelphia school district have the cushiest jobs in the world and they should stop complaining and picketing job cuts and just try and get another job. If you live in the area you know how insane and asinine this statement is. Oh and he's not a teacher nor does he live in Philly) that he likes to post on Facebook--cornered me the second he walked in.

"I'm about 1/3 of the way through your book! Erin got it for Jamaica and I stole it and started reading it. It's so good. I don't ever read. Like I can't sit in a chair and read but yours is so good. I'm glued to it I swear!"

Obviously, this was a very very nice remark. Albeit he didn't buy the book himself--he's also a pretty cheap bastard--and was preventing my friend from reading it, but coming from him this was pretty much the tops. And I was touched and started rethinking my opinions on him. Maybe I sold him short. Maybe he isn't that bad!

He immediately followed up that statement with this.

"But you know, there are a lot of mistakes."

Oh thank yo.......What now?

"Excuse me," I asked thinking I heard him wrong.

"Yeah, there were a lot of typos and stuff."

Yep, he went there.

"Well can you name one," I said, feeling my face instantly get hot and bright red. Also felt like everyone in the room suddenly got quiet and was listening. Which made me feel ten times worse.

"Not really but there were a lot. But it's still good," he said, giving me a nice pat on the shoulder. I was really tempted to rip his arm right off his body and start beating him with it.

Luckily my best friend was close by and prevented this from happening. She stepped in and told him off saying, " So what! No one is perfect! All books have mistakes! And when is your book coming out again?"

That shut him up for the rest of the night, thank God, and I stayed away from him just in case I still had the urge to maim him. Actually heard from one of my friends later that he was down in their basement for the rest of the night singing my praises and telling everyone to buy the book. So he kind of redeemed himself. KIND OF.

Getting told something like that, especially to your face and in front of a group of people, is nothing less than verbal and emotional assault. And I'm not exaggerating or overreacting.  For a writer, your work is almost like a child. You form it and cultivate it for months and months--or in my case years. Everyday, you add more and more to it and slowly it grows and grows until finally it's ready to be "born" to the public. Literally, a book release is almost like giving birth--I am making this analogy because I feel like I went through postpartum depression for two week immediately following my book release. It's a lot to finally give up the writing process and finally allow people to read it. It's a lot of pressure as well.  And telling a writer that there are mistakes or typos is like telling a mother that their child is fugly. It is a direct insult.

I'm not saying I don't appreciate constructive criticism. In fact I actively look for criticism and opinions. My writing process is all about hearing and taking advice from my peers. I made major changes to my book all based on the opinions of friends. But to bring something up like that at a party, where we were surrounded by people, was only meant to hurt me and be-little my work. Maybe that's not what he intended--which I now believe is the case--but he really put his foot in his mouth with this one.

But again, like my best friend said, no one is perfect. I myself have found plenty of typos in books. Actually I live for finding typos in books--its makes me feel intelligent. All books have mistakes and writing a book does not make you a God. That is what editors are for. Editors are paid to take a magnifying glass to your manuscripts and look for those little oversights. And an editor is something I did not have with this first project. I did all my editing myself--with the help of two of my writer friends-- thinking I didn't need someone else to do what I was fully capable of doing. Now I see and know that was a mistake and have learned from it.

So, yes my book does have mistakes and typos. And an editor is almost as essential as the content. It doesn't make the book or story unreadable and I know it's still good.

So when I got an e-mail from my publisher telling me that my review from Kirkus Indie Review was complete, I was really anxious. And not in a good way.  I was terrified I was going to get slammed in a very public way. One bad review can damn a career for life. It can kill a book forever. And once it's out there, it's out there and there's no taking it back. In fact, my publisher warned me of that before hand--that once a review was done and published, it was done. For good or bad.

My hands were trembling uncontrollably. My pulse was racing and I thought I was going to throw up all over my work computer. I almost didn't open the Word attachment I was sent with the review. Took me a full five minutes to calm down enough to click the link and download it. Felt like forever for the page to load which made my anxiety even worse.

Finally it did.

And this is what it said.

KIRKUS REVIEW

In this notable debut penned by his granddaughter, a World War II veteran recalls action in the Pacific fleet.
Ten months after Pearl Harbor, young but gung-ho Robert J. Steinmetz convinced his parents to sign off on his Navy enlistment. “Steiny,” as Philadelphia working-class buddies called him, plunged from civilian shipbuilder to Shipfitter, Third Class, aboard the USS Gear ARS 34. The Navy issued these sailors only Marine knives for their assignment to plug holes in sinking ships. “Not even worth real weapons,” he concludes—“the lowest of the low.” He survived seven invasions and battles that forever changed him, hiding his anguish from family members for nearly 70 years. Fortunately, Steiny turns out to be a gifted storyteller. Jena Steinmetz, who began this as-told-to memoir as a project for her English degree, deftly captures her grandfather’s language and personality, as if readers are listening across the kitchen table. Despite a number of typos and editorial lapses that seem to have survived the production process, she demonstrates skill and judgment in transforming extemporaneous talk into fluid prose. Sentence fragments fill the book yet enhance conversational tone rather than hinder readability. Dialect, such as “nuttin’ doin’,” flavors the narrative without overshadowing it, and though some characters swear like sailors, it never feels heavy-handed. Steinmetz also uses novelistic techniques to control the presentation, opening with tense sailors below deck hearing gunfire, then backfilling Steiny’s childhood, enlistment and shipmate bonding. Steiny recalls events with remarkable clarity, and as Steinmetz writes with rich detail, summoning all the senses, the short chapters and poignant scenes propel readers, while time shifts help connect wartime and civilian life. A circle of blood on a white parachute evokes the Japanese flag, food tastes like gasoline, melting metal hisses, and rotting corpses, fresh paint and Iwo Jima’s sulfurous odor assault Steiny’s nose. Most painfully, screams of the fallen and handfuls of clinking dog tags haunt him: “It’s the sounds that still scare the man out of me,” he admits. Readers will quickly care about Steiny, making his postwar life relevant in vignettes that range from harrowing to heartwarming.
A grand tale told well.

And this is how it felt

Cannot explain it.

Felt like flying. Soaring through the clouds and never coming back down. My heart was racing all over again, but for a completely different reason. To be told by someone in the industry that your work was a "grand tale, told well" and it was a "notable debut" is pretty huge.The reviewer understood and got every single nuance I incorporated and saw my work as exceptional. It is a complete affirmation of all my hard work. Made me think," Wow....I am good at this!" Just huge. Beyond huge. Who knew a few hundred words could make you the happiest girl in the world.

If the only general critique they could give me was the typos and editorial lapses, then I count myself lucky. And thanks to my jackass "friend", I was already prepared for it. I got the worst of it to my face and it was barely a blip on my radar by the time I read it in the review. Thankfully, the reviewer saw beyond it and judged me on my work and the story. Which is simply fantastic. Really, I should thank him for lessening the blow.

Literally made my year. Maybe even my life.

And it's made me think about my next project.

Stay tuned :)