Banana Peelin' with Jeannie Mobley

I feel so incredibly fortunate to be a part of this week's author's, book birthday blog tour. (Whew! Say that five times fast! Actually, scratch that. I  just tried and it wasn't too difficult.)  Ya know, my husband is a huge football fan. Me, not so much. Each Fall and Winter I am exposed to the muffled crowd cheers and the spurts of "yeah, baby!" screams, but rarely do I participate.

When I do choose to root and hoot, it is because there is a reason, a purpose. Like if I find out that so-in-so's quarterback was raised on a banana boat and though he had nothing, he helped little old ladies cross the street until he was drafted to the NFL, I'll watch. It interests me. I hope they do well because they have worked hard or they are nice people.  That is how I feel about this week's author. I have not read her book yet, but I will read it as soon as I can get my paws on it AND I will also buy all of her subsequent work because of the story she shares with us today. I am a loyal, rootin', hootin', fan of this week's author, Jeannie Mobely!

 On August 28th, I celebrated the release of my debut novel, KATERINA'S WISH. Like most debut authors, this was hardly the first manuscript I wrote, or even the first one I sent out in the world seeking publication. And like so many who came before me, my road to publication was strewn with banana peels.

The manuscript that was to become KATERINA'S WISH, however, had some fairly unique slip ups of its own, that I don't think are common to most writers. Most authors think of their first books as their beloved children. That is not quite my story.

The idea for KATERINA'S WISH began with a dream, in which a fish granted me a wish. It was a very vivid, realistic dream, and I woke and lay in bed thinking it would make a good novel. But what  really stuck with me about the dream, and what I set out to capture in my novel, was not the characters or setting, which I changed, but rather a feeling. I was intrigued by the idea of writing a book in which a seemingly magical wish is made and ultimately comes true, but maintaining ambiguity about whether the things that happen are the result of the wish and its magic or are because of what the characters do once hey believe magic helping them.

I wrote a reasonable story, but I didn't capture the feeling, and so I was disappointed with it. I thought I might be able to improve it, but my critique group all liked it as it was, so, against my better judgment, I sent it to my agent. She liked it enough to circulate it, but it came back from four or five editors with the same comments--it was underdeveloped, too skeletal, too simplistic in the plot. My agent and I agreed that it should be pulled from circulation and revised to address those concerns before going out again. Actually, it is what she said, and I nodded my head as if agreeing, but inside I was thinking, "See everybody, I told you so. This manuscript is garbage."

Those of you familiar with tropical fruit, will at once spot many little flashes of yellow in the above paragraph. I, of course, didn't see them for several years.

The first was not trusting my own instinct, and being wooed into disregarding my judgment because it was the easiest rout to go. So I KNEW the story wasn't what it should be, or more importantly what it COULD be, and I sent it out anyway. This has probably been my biggest self-sabotaging flaw throughout my writing career. It is my special cocktail: one part impatience, one part ego, one part laziness, and two parts banana peels. Slippery every time!

Thus far, I think my experience isn't that unique, but what happened next is where it gets weird. I tried to read over the manuscript with an eye toward revision--after all the editors had told me what they wanted. It should have been easy, but as I read, I was filled with a strong revulsion to it--embarrassed that I had ever  thrust such a dreary thing onto my agent and other industry professionals. The characters were dull, the setting more dull, the plot the dullest of all.  Horrified that I had showed it to anyone, I buried it deep in the bottom of a drawer and wrote something else. This slip landed me right on my tailbone!

First, I wrote a flippant little tongue-in-cheek fantasy about a girl who dooms the world with her birthday wish. I thought it was hilarious, so much more interesting than that last ugly manuscript I didn't want to think about!

This manuscript was my rebound relationship--something totally different, uncharacteristic for me, out of control and careless. My agent told me she wanted to strangle my  main character, and asked, "What about Magic Carp?" (the original title of Katerina's Wish).

I got it out, read the first paragraph, and wanted to puke. The revulsion was stronger than ever. So I put it away and went back to an old pet project of mine, one of my favorite story ideas that I originally wrote years ago, before I had the writing chops to pull it off. I wrote happily, savoring my favorite characters, my lovely setting, my exciting and twisting plot.

My critique group hated it. I mean, hated it. One said the plot was predictable, another hated the main character, the third said she could only keep reading because she had to, as my critique partner. The forth smiled kindly and didn't offer a scathing criticism, but kept asking, "What about Magic Carp? I really liked Magic Carp."

Uugh. I hit a new low. How could I ever make it at as a writer if I was this blind? The things I loved, others hated. The thing I hated, everyone else loved. What was wrong with me?

By the time I got Magic Carp out again, nearly two years had passed. Two years without a manuscript on submission, because I couldn't come up with anything that I loved and others loved as well.  So, feeling doomed and at the end of my rope, I pulled Magic Crap (as I was affectionately calling it) out again. I read most of the first chapter before dissolving into tears and deleting the entire file from my hard drive. I absolutely couldn't face it.  Couldn't. Face. It.

So, I began the rewrite from scratch, not revising anything old, but starting over completely. I hated the character. I hated the plot. I hated the ugly, boring, awful setting. And mostly, I hated myself for being such a total loser that I couldn't see the difference between good and bad.

Except for that last part--the scarring self-loathing part--my revulsion turned out to be a good thing. Because my failure to identify with the character meant I wasn't sinking into her character as I wrote, so I could focus more on my craft--on the actual words I was putting on the page. And as for hating the ugly, boring, awful setting? Well, that's exactly how the MC feels about her setting, so it wasn't too hard to capture her misery.

Still, I kept sending chapters to my critique group, thinking, "this is the chapter where they will finally agree that this is boring garbage and I can stop writing it."  But my critique partners kept telling me it was great, they loved it, they couldn't wait to see what happened next. And I kept saying, "really? It isn't horribly dull?"

I tried to quit several times, and was nagged into continuing by those critiquers. I flung manuscript pages across the living room in three-year-old tantrum style more than once. I angrily scribbled out passages so hard that the pen went through the paper and scarred the table top.  Yeah. I was totally mature about it all. It was, without a doubt, the most miserable six months of my writing career thus far (and hopefully ever!) But at the end of it, I sent the manuscript to my agent, who said she loved it, and who sent it to an editor, who also loved it, and it sold.

This is not a trajectory to publication that I would wish on anyone, but the lesson I learned, all too late in the process, is to trust the advice of others. I know, this contradicts my earlier statement, to follow my own feelings, but I think I had to learn a balance.

I struggled for months after the sale of the manuscript, because I still didn't like the main character. Trina seemed dull, utterly flat, predictable. And yet, everyone who liked the book talked about how much they liked her. I was at an utter loss as to why, until my agent told me, '"you can't see what's great about her, because she's too close to you. She's just like you, so she seems ordinary and predictable to you, but what makes her a great character is what makes you a great person."

Of course, being wrapped in my own loathing and self-pity, I thought, "oh, great, I'm just as boring as my character." And I spent a long time feeling guilty and hypocritical, because the theme of KATERINA'S WISH is to persevere and make your dream happen, against all odds, and the manuscripts that were my dreams were moldering in a drawer while the one I didn't believe in was getting published.

In the immortal words of Homer Simpson, "Doh!" That was my final banana peel. Because I was just like Trina. I had achieved the dream of publication against some pretty large odds--working through and persevering with the manuscript that had promise, even when I couldn't see it. Putting my faith and determination into something, even when it wasn't coming easy to me.  How could I not see that?

 I finally saw it when the book was all formatted and my first pass pages came to me. These are camera ready pages, looking exactly as they will in the final book.  By then, it had someone else's title (my editor came up with it),  the artist's vision on the cover and interior pages, the designer's choice of font, etc.  In other words, I got some separation because it was no longer my manuscript, it had transformed into Simon and Schuster's book. And I read through and discovered, "there's some good stuff in here. So that's what they've all been talking about!"

I feel pretty good about the book now. I can embrace it, and it's characters.. It is my debut novel, the critics have spoken well of it, and it's got one sweet, tough character who people love, and who might even be a bit like me. And as for all those banana peels? I'm using them as compost to fertilize the garden of my muse.

Banana Peelin' with Natasha Yim

Icing on this writer's cake is Thursday's Banana Peelin' author, the wonderful, Natasha Yim!
After reading this, I have to wonder, is there anything this woman can't do? Persistence must be her middle name.

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ON REJECTIONS—AND OTHER LITERARY DISASTERS

By Natasha Yim


We’ve all heard those success stories, right? The ones where debut authors wrote their 300 page novels in 6 weeks, sent their manuscripts to the first agent they found in the Writer’s Market, got a response in two days, and an offer for acquisition a week later. The stories that make you want to gag, cry, rip your hair out in frustration as you continue to labor over Chapter Three in a novel that’s taken 5 years out of your life. And if that success story belonged to a friend, you battle the demons of ambivalence as you graciously congratulate your friend and wish her the best of luck, while behind closed doors, you scream, “Why couldn’t it have been me???” at the writing Gods for all the literary injustice that you—and only you—have suffered.

Well, I’m here to tell you I’ve been there. And back. I’ve tumbled into the black hole of despair when it seemed like my writing was on the train to nowhere, and obsessively checked my email 20 times a day in the hopes that today was the day I got a positive response from an editor or agent (waiting for the mailman is soooo last decade). But perseverance is the name of the game in this business, and all good things can come to those who wait.

Take my picture book, Goldy Luck and the Three Chans, for instance. It’s a multi-cultural twist on the Goldilock tale. I first began writing the story in 2005, and revised and re-revised it for over a year until I felt confident enough to send it out to 5 different publishers. A couple rejected me rather quickly, two others made me wait 3 months, and the 5th, Tricycle Press, I never heard back from. Finally, after 7 months, I wrote a letter of inquiry to the editor, and received a fairly quick response from another editor that Editor 1 had left the company, but had passed on my manuscript before she left. Editor 2 really liked it and wanted to take it to acquisitions. I was on Cloud 9. Somebody liked my work! She had some great editorial suggestions, and we made several rounds of revisions. We revised, we emailed back and forth, then...nothing. My emails went unanswered. No more communication. I panicked. Did my last revision suck? Did she hate it so much she couldn’t bear to tell me, and decided that if she just ignored me, I’d go away?

Then one day, while considering whether I should attend the Book Passage Children’s Writer’s Conference in Corte Madera, California, I noticed that Editor 2 was on the faculty list. That was it. I was going to the conference. I was going to find out what happened to my manuscript. I was going to hulk around in dark shadows and stalk this editor. As it turned out, I didn’t have to be the creepy writer trapping the hapless editor inside a bathroom stall while she made empty promises to get me a contract so she could escape back into the Land of the Living. Coincidentally, she sat at my table for lunch and we got to chatting about Goldy Luck. She was really nice...and warm...and generous. She spent an hour with me giving me line by line feedback, and invited me to re-submit to her when I was done with revisions. See, it pays to go to writers’ conferences. I was back on Cloud 9. Three months later, I sent her my revisions. Then...nothing. I emailed to ask if she had received my manuscript, and got a quick response from the publisher’s assistant. Editor 2 had also left the company. Crap. And Double Crap. All that work! All that time!

However, not to be deterred, I asked for the name of another editor. I emailed Editor 3. Had she heard about Goldy Luck? Tricycle Press was, after all, a small publishing house. Editor 3 wrote back. Yes, she had. She was at the acquisitions meeting when it was presented. And Editor 3 was interested. But nobody could find the manuscript, so could I send another copy?

To make a long story—well, not quite as long—Editor 3 and I worked on the manuscript for another year and a half, then in August 2010, I finally got the phone call every writer dreams about. I got to hear those beautiful words, “We want to publish your book!” By this time, Tricycle Press and it’s parent company, Ten Speed Press, had been purchased by Random House, so it was now an imprint of RH. Not only was I getting a contract, I was thrilled to say I was going to be published by Random House, one of the Big 6 publishers! How exciting was that!

Not exciting enough, the literary Gods decided. We’ll just throw a few more bumps her way so she’ll really appreciate what it takes to get published. A week after I signed my contract, RH decided to close down Tricycle Press. My path to publication suddenly stalled Big Time. Contract cancelled. End of story. Well, I could have let it end there. But I didn’t. Did I wallow in drink? Hemingway would have. Tennessee Williams would have. But I’m a teetotaler. So, I did what any sober writer in her right mind would do. I sent the manuscript back out. This time to my former editor at Charlesbridge Publishing who had published my first book, Otto’s Rainy Day. Editor 4. Charlesbridge doesn’t publish many folk or fairy tales, but the editor was intrigued by the multi-cultural angle.

Two months later, in March 2011, Editor 5 (Editor 4 had now become head honcho since I’ve worked with her so passed the story on to Editor 5), contacted me. She loved the story. More revisions. Another acquisitions meeting. Another stall. Now, it’s the Marketing Department. Folk and fairy tales aren’t usually Charlesbridge’s thing. Do they want to take Charlesbridge into a different realm? Oh, to be a fly on the wall of that discussion. In the end, they decided to table any decisions till the fall. Another 3 months of waiting!

Finally, in October 2011 (Oct. 5, at 8:05 am. to be specific—you tend to remember these things), my agent Karen Grencik (Red Fox Literary Agency) called and told me Charlesbridge wanted to publish the book! As of this writing, she is still negotiating the contract which we hope to finalize and have signed by the end of the month.

The moral of the story: Believe in yourself as a writer, believe in your story, and never give up. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from Richard Bach, “A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.” Enjoy the journey!

Natasha Yim is the author of Otto's Rainy Day (Charlesbridge Publishing, 2000), Cixi, The Dragon Empress (Goosebottom Books, 2011), and the upcoming Sacajawea of the Shoshone (Goosebottom Books, Oct. 2012) and Goldy Luck and the Three Chans (Charlesbridge Publishing, 2014). She has also been published in the children's magazines, "Highlights for Children", "Appleseeds", and "Faces", as well as in adult local and regional magazines and newspapers. Her ten-minute plays have been performed in venues around Northern California, Los Angeles, and at the Short+Sweet Ten Minute Theatre Festival in Sydney, Australia.

natashayim@natashayim.com
www.natashayim.com
www.natashayim.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com/natashayim.author

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I am so thrilled to have had you on the series Natasha! Thank you so much for taking the time to share your experiences.  Becoming a published writer appears not to be for the faint of ! (I think I need to start working out!)  Good luck to you and congrats on your new book deal! You Deserve it, and that's with a capital "D".

Gumption Junction

     Okay folks. This is it. 2012 is here. It will not go down in history as the year the world ended as my husband unfortunately believes to be true ("Why paint the kitchen? The world is going to end this year anyways")...Oh, no. It's much bigger than that. This is the year of Gumption Junction.

     Gumption, which happens to be my favorite word because I like saying -gump-, is practically  my middle name passed down to me a generation from my paternal father. Yes, my father and I are both genetic recipients of this thing called gumption. A person with gumption often possesses a thing I like to refer to as the gumptious focus. This focus can also be described as mono-vision, having your blinders on, etc. As I see it, the gumptious focus can be a wonderful and beautiful thing. It'll  get you where you want to go that's for sure. With this focus, I have:

• believed myself capable of singing solo at my sixth grade graduation (sorry class of '92)
• traveled to the ends of the earth to study Spanish (Que barbaridad!)
• become a skilled gardener (thank you Home Depot for your dead plant return policy)
• learned to sew (here's to you stitch taker-outer thingy)
• found the most rustic and perfect and beautiful kitchen table complete with two leaves, a bench, four chairs that we can guarantee won't tip over on our poor guests (story for another time), all at a bargain of a price. If you don't believe how glorious my table is, just see for yourself. Cue the singing angels:

See how it shines? It's magical. You can sit and eat there ALL DAY LONG.

The point is, once I set my mind to it,  I just can't stop myself people. I get things done. Is it productive? Yes. Is it annoying to all around me? Why, yes. Is it normal? Definitely... not?
With that said, Gumption Junction, I have plans for you.

Not only do I promise in 2012 to be a better:

wife
mother
daughter
sister
brother
student
recyclist
bicyclist

...I am determined to go full force into the world of children's literature. If you doubt my gumptious focus, I have just ordered a set of 250 free business cards to prove it. They read something along the lines of...

                            Elizabeth Stevens Omlor
                           Children's Literature Author and Enthusiast

 These mail order business cards (that also mention how they were free on the back, by the way. I didn't dare spend the extra $3.50 to have the plain, white back option), will be ready to be tossed into lonely, street gutters and mingle in trashcans with half finished Diet Cokes at SCBWI conferences (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators- that's right. I'm now a member! P.S. Should I have said half-full Diet Cokes? Does that qualify me as a pessimist? Shucks.)

     And thanks to the current state of the California budget, I will be taking a semester off from school and therefore have a little extra time on my hands to not only read, write and participate in challenges such as Julie Foster Hedlund's 12 x 12 in 2012 , but to...find an agent! I will submit and submit and submit some more until I find one poor soul to represent me. That's right! This I do know. How do I know? Not only did my Yahoo! horoscope tell me so, but this is the year of Gumption Junction.

Happy New Year!

FEAR OF THE BANANA PEEL V. TWAIN

Well hello there. I'm back. A little older, a little wiser, and a bit chubbier.

During this last winter holiday, while others' noggins were dreaming of dancing, sugar plum fairies, my dreams were filled with scenes of post-holiday writing contest triumph.

Dancing in this noggin of mine were one-way conversations such as...
"What? I won?  Me? No! But I just started writing! It couldn't be? I don't deserve it. This is all happening so fast!"

Also dancing in this noggin of mine were visions of  my writing career taking flight due to the recent successful contest outcome. Agents would hear of this novice writer who just happened to win the contest, with such raw talent.  I would then be jetted off to book signings and school visits, and speaking at conferences about how I began my writing career.

Outside of this noggin of mine, in real life, my husband would ask as we awaited the contest results,"Are you excited? Are you nervous?"
"I would just be happy to be one of the top three finalists, honestly" I  admitted.

Ah... but 'twas all a dream. A dream right up there alongside one curious, nocturnal encounter/one night stand with Agent Skinner from X Files or my confusing delivery room dream where I gave birth to my husband.
Not only did I not make the top three contest finalists, but I didn't even make the top SIX contenders! Yikes!

Was I disappointed? Ashamedly, yes!  I didn't even want to eat a piece of fudge to soothe my pain!(Not even fudge? Good Lord, help the girl!) I was able to pin my disappointment on the fact that this was my first public writing experience and I guess I was looking for some kind of approval or better yet, some kind of sign that I was on the right path.

Of course, I am not suggesting my entry was stronger than the others submitted by any means. Honestly, I did not deserve to win. All of the entries were so creative and unique. I am still in awe of how polished these writers were (as well as amazingly supportive towards others in the group).  You should read these other entries at at Susanna Leonard Hill's blog. (I especially loved the Fishmas and Jelly Bean versions.)

After the contest results were released I came to the very rational conclusion that writing just wasn't for me.  My mind tried to calculate all of the wasted hours spent writing stories and revising them, with bouts of spousal spats and the occasional neglected child.  Was writing now another hobby to go by the wayside like my short stint of snow globe collecting or my Tae Bo workout regimen?

With well-intentioned, encouraging words such as, "Don't be upset. You're not that bad. You're all right" (insert the truth hurts, guttural sobs here) and "Besides, you can't quit now.  I just got you a SCBWI membership"(insert snort laugh here), I drooled my way to sleep, hoping to wake up with a clearer head.

Lucky for me, rational thought made a strong comeback after a few, good hours sleep.

What effect did rational thought have on my outlook you ask? Well, let us return to the oh-so-relevant title of my blog: Banana Peelin' shall we?

My contest entry and loss is my first public banana peel slip in the writing world.  I took a risk by putting my work out there and it didn't pan out the way I had hoped. I faced my biggest fear and insecurity: Having someone read my work and say, "Hmmm... What is she thinking? SHE wants to be a writer? She stinks!"

Not finishing top in a contest makes this fear seem to be more of a reality. It is a humbling experience to say the least. But thankfully, it is also motivating. 

Mark Twain said, "The only difference between a published author and an unpublished author, is the published one didn't give up." Although my fearful and insecure-self  might have given up after a contest loss or critique or ten, my rational-self feels motivated to continue working on her writing abilities.

However,with that being said, I am very aware that I will continually face the great internal debate:

                                    FEAR OF THE BANANA PEEL V. TWAIN

I have to believe that this is the greatest struggle for anyone pursuing their dream.