sartorias: (handwritten books)
Con or Bust offer:

At last, book three of The Change is coming out in mid-May. We will be sending a personalized copy to the winner of the auction.

view and comment on the post there.

SmithSher_Brown_Rebel_133x200_Final

Welcome back to Las Anclas, a frontier town in the post-apocalyptic Wild West. In this perilous landscape, a schoolboy can create earthquakes, poisonous cloud vipers flock in the desert skies, and the beaches are stalked by giant mind-controlling lobsters.

The tyrant king Voske has been defeated, but all is not peaceful in Las Anclas. Ross’s past comes back to haunt him, Jennie struggles with her new career, Mia faces her fears, Felicite resorts to desperate measures to keep her secrets, Kerry wonders if Las Anclas has really seen the last of her father, and shy Becky Callahan may hold the key to a dangerous mystery.

In Rebel, long-held secrets of past and present are revealed, family ties can strangle as well as sustain, and the greatest peril threatening Las Anclas comes from inside its walls.
sartorias: (desk)
Some thoughts about Danny by Steven Harper and an interview.

I think he makes the magical realism element work with a tough subject--whereas another book, one getting max publicity, from a very popular writer, doesn't.

Kid Logic

Apr. 17th, 2015 10:34 am
sartorias: (desk)
Yesterday I went up to visit some relatives, and my mom gave me a scrapbook of keepsakes. Now that she's finally retired, she's been going through old family photos and miscellaneous stuff. She's never been much of a packrat, so I was curious to see what she'd saved. A lot of it (most) had to do with ancestors, like a xerox copy of the daily journal my three-greats grandfather kept from 1883-1919 (and then duly kept by his daughter until her death in 1930); as you'd expect from a Lutheran farmer it's terse, rarely more than one line, but kept up every single day for all those years.

There was also me-related stuff, like the printed program of performances I danced in, and some of my letters home from Europe when I went to study, but one had me laughing out loud, and then reassessing events, because I'd never known about it.

I had a great-uncle (recently deceased at 97) who, with my paternal grandmother, were the only two people who went to college in both sides of an enormous family. Most of the elder generation, especially on my mother's side, were done with school by thirteen, at which time they were put to work. So my great-uncle had always had a special status in the family.

Well, I don't recall all the details, probably one of the rare paternal-relations get-togethers, when I was around fourteen. My great-uncle, always a kindly man, must have asked me better questions than the run-of-the-mill adult questions at that time ("What are you studying in school? "Ancient Poisons and Methods of Instant Death" "Mmm-hmm, that's nice, do you have a boyfriend yet?") because I must have said tersely something about writing. And he must have sounded genuinely encouraging, because there's this letter my co-writer on a historical novel (also 14) wrote to him asking for advice about us getting published. I don't know why I didn't write him myself--too anxious, I guess. Anyway, at the bottom of this letter, my friend exhorted him not to tell my parents because they thought our writing was a waste of time.

My great-uncle, unknown to me, had sent this letter to my parents, and in his handwriting at the bottom, he said, "Shame on you parents!"

So now I know why I got a book called Writing to Sell for my birthday that year--a book I devoured with passionate intensity, and which steered me wrong in so very many ways.

Anyway, I was trying to recover the logic train behind our surprising decision to write to him. He was a professor in social work, he didn't write fiction. I don't even know if he read it. But it somehow made sense to us to come up with this plan, and for my co-conspirator (who he never met) to write him out of the blue for advice on publishing what to us at the time was a masterpiece of two years and four drafts of hard work. (Not the least of which was my typing it all up laboriously on an ancient manual typewriter with a ribbon that dated back to WW II.)

I was thinking about that this morning when reading a review excoriating the bad books that kids read. I've said before that I think kids should read what they want, and that they will grow out of a lot of their favorites as time goes on, blah blah, but the subject that engrossed me was kid logic.

The specific review started off by slagging Divergent, and its with plot holes you could drive a truck through, and conversational patterns so overused you can quote ahead not only where it's going, but even how it will be said, and the writer wondered why the teens who adore it do. The gist of the review was that kids are getting more stupid, they used to be smarter in days of yore.

While it's true that educational standards in the US have taken some falls in the past decades (and I fought against them for my twenty years in the teaching trenches) I do think there are some upsides, and that is that I think more kids are reading, because there are more books aimed at all kids of readers. And the educational system no longer insists that there is one way to learn, and everything else is wrong.

As for kid logic, what excites us when young, what seems true and reasonable, can at this end of a lifespan seem like such alien thinking. So very much is new, and immediate: the patterns we see as kids are going to change, and change again.

But I love trying to recover that dazzle and passion, however it came out. (And when I need a laugh, I pull out one of the tattered drafts of that gaspingly bad masterpiece, and snort over a page or two.)
sartorias: (Fan)
I got my wires crossed, and I thought the Kaleidoscope fundraiser was starting in another month, but in fact it has 18 days to go.

Rachel Brown and I are planning to submit a story to it that will take place in the same universe as our YA dystopia coming out next year from Viking. Needless to say, the Kaleidoscope project gets enthusiastic thumbs up from us.

If this is your thing, a few bucks would help--or even just spreading the word, if cash is tight.

Ditto Podcastle.

Thanks!
sartorias: (Default)
The authoress has bestowed wonderful pains upon its composition [Shirley], and she has been rewarded accordingly. It has been slowly written, carefully digested, touched and retouched, reviewed and revised, corrected in manuscript and in proof, and in this respect it is a pattern to our modern novelists, who gives their scribblings to the press with all their imperfections, as they flow from their gold pen, scarcely troubling themselves to amend defects in grammar or remedy tautologies.

I took that from a review of Charlotte Bronte's Shirley in 1849. I think it is easy to forget how new the novel is (as we understand it), and how much newer the concept of editors, copy-editors, proof-readers and the like.

The book I was reading was The Brontes: The Critical Heritage, edited by Miriam Allott. Not only reviews but discussions in private letters, both by Charlotte and others, such as Thackeray. This snapshot of early and mid-Victorian readers and reviewers as they try to deal with the question of the 'Bells' gender (some thought that line of inquiry totally irrelevant), morals, ethics, the purpose of books, and especially, what to make of that masterpiece of id-vortex, Wuthering Heights, makes absorbing reading.

But stepping out from the Brontes and taking a look at publishing, which that passage quoted above inspired me to do, caused me to think about the purpose of the editor--and how that purpose has been bypassed by much of the flood of e-book publishing appearing now.

It's too simplistic to say that self-edited e-books are automatically trash. In any discussion I've sat in, the first hands to start waving belong to those who are quick to point out that there is plenty of balderdash out there that has been edited to a fair-thee-well, and the second wave of hands want to make sure everyone knows that editors nowadays either don't have the time to edit, or don't know how to--were hired straight out of business school for their marketing training, and boo-ha boo-ha.

Then there are those who say, in effect, "Who cares about proofing and copyediting? Most Americans are so badly educated they wouldn't know a grammatical mistake, and can't spell." Anyone who has listened to some of the jaw-droppingly awful dangling modifiers tripped out by first-at-the-site newsvamps, richly caparisoned by grammatical vagaries ("Appalled and horrified, the bodies of the dead laying around . . .") might nod judiciously.

Whatevs, as a teen I was talking to the other day said. "I read what I like."

And what I have been liking lately is the work of the self-published Andrea K. Host (there should be an umlaut over the o in her last name, but I have no idea how to make one outside of Word). Her latest is And All the Stars , which I simply devoured while on the train and bus this past couple of days, and even while standing at red lights as I strolled along Broadway in New York City.

It's a YA apocalypse, very different from some of the familiar patterns appearing of late. Do I think she would benefit from an editor and copyeditor? Yes, but only in the sense of making a smashing good read even better. The best editors are able to see what the writer can't always, due to living inside the story; the danger of turning to other writers for editing is that they might assume they are editing but in fact they are trying to make the story theirs. Well, that's collaboration--and a whole nother topic, but I just got the phone call and it's time to flit to another state.

Will catch up again when I reach Martha's Vineyard. I have some nifty photos to share.
sartorias: (Default)
The authoress has bestowed wonderful pains upon its composition [Shirley], and she has been rewarded accordingly. It has been slowly written, carefully digested, touched and retouched, reviewed and revised, corrected in manuscript and in proof, and in this respect it is a pattern to our modern novelists, who gives their scribblings to the press with all their imperfections, as they flow from their gold pen, scarcely troubling themselves to amend defects in grammar or remedy tautologies.

I took that from a review of Charlotte Bronte's Shirley in 1849. I think it is easy to forget how new the novel is (as we understand it), and how much newer the concept of editors, copy-editors, proof-readers and the like.

The book I was reading was The Brontes: The Critical Heritage, edited by Miriam Allott. Not only reviews but discussions in private letters, both by Charlotte and others, such as Thackeray. This snapshot of early and mid-Victorian readers and reviewers as they try to deal with the question of the 'Bells' gender (some thought that line of inquiry totally irrelevant), morals, ethics, the purpose of books, and especially, what to make of that masterpiece of id-vortex, Wuthering Heights, makes absorbing reading.

But stepping out from the Brontes and taking a look at publishing, which that passage quoted above inspired me to do, caused me to think about the purpose of the editor--and how that purpose has been bypassed by much of the flood of e-book publishing appearing now.

It's too simplistic to say that self-edited e-books are automatically trash. In any discussion I've sat in, the first hands to start waving belong to those who are quick to point out that there is plenty of balderdash out there that has been edited to a fair-thee-well, and the second wave of hands want to make sure everyone knows that editors nowadays either don't have the time to edit, or don't know how to--were hired straight out of business school for their marketing training, and boo-ha boo-ha.

Then there are those who say, in effect, "Who cares about proofing and copyediting? Most Americans are so badly educated they wouldn't know a grammatical mistake, and can't spell." Anyone who has listened to some of the jaw-droppingly awful dangling modifiers tripped out by first-at-the-site newsvamps, richly caparisoned by grammatical vagaries ("Appalled and horrified, the bodies of the dead laying around . . .") might nod judiciously.

Whatevs, as a teen I was talking to the other day said. "I read what I like."

And what I have been liking lately is the work of the self-published Andrea K. Host (there should be an umlaut over the o in her last name, but I have no idea how to make one outside of Word). Her latest is And All the Stars , which I simply devoured while on the train and bus this past couple of days, and even while standing at red lights as I strolled along Broadway in New York City.

It's a YA apocalypse, very different from some of the familiar patterns appearing of late. Do I think she would benefit from an editor and copyeditor? Yes, but only in the sense of making a smashing good read even better. The best editors are able to see what the writer can't always, due to living inside the story; the danger of turning to other writers for editing is that they might assume they are editing but in fact they are trying to make the story theirs. Well, that's collaboration--and a whole nother topic, but I just got the phone call and it's time to flit to another state.

Will catch up again when I reach Martha's Vineyard. I have some nifty photos to share.
sartorias: (Default)
An older article, and the upward spiral of YA's popularity sparked this set of questions. Other than that, the withering heat makes it difficult to hold two thoughts together! But at least we're at the last couple months of summer, I keep thinking.

Kids

May. 13th, 2012 08:11 am
sartorias: (Default)
Happy Mother's Day to all who mother. Today's post is Adults who loved young adult literature--why, what suggestions do you have?

I'd like to flush some recommendations out of the woodwork besides highly publicized urban fantasy series, but on the other hand, if people want to talk about those, fine!

I've been using Kindle to explore YA of a century ago and more. One of the reasons why I can't read the 'steampunk Victorian' series is because the Victorian veneer is so thin. There is a huge audience who loves modern people in historical dress up novels. I tend to reach for the ones that try to evoke the worldview as well as the details of a different time, so of course the Real McCoy is going to do that. With all its warts.

The thing is that Victoriana is not all repressive conformity. It's such a variety, from the cheerful crudities of Jorrocks (extremely popular at the height of the period) to Kipling (much later, but very difficult to peg into any hole) to the sharp insight of George Eliot.

The YA of the later years seems to have flourished around the school story. And a writer almost unheard of now, who wrote a tremendous amount for girls, was L. T. Meade. Her stuff was impossible to find except at high prices in this country. I still haven't seen a print copy of any of her books. But these, like those of Talbot Baines Reed, are surprisingly good reading. The latter is a strong influence on Wodehouse, with mostly funny school stories for boys. L.T. Meade also wrote school stories, but the interesting thing about hers is that she began writing when schools for girls were becoming more common.

They'd been around for a long time--we have Jane Eyre as evidence for that.Ditto finishing schools. But general education for females seems to have taken off latterly in the century, and what Meade writes about are all kinds of schools. She never sets anything at Girton (which was a new experiment when she was writing, and it gets referred to it that way in a couple of her novels.) She makes up schools--from bigger ones to small schools run out of a home by either widows or by wives of indigent professors.

There are patterns in her stories, as one tends to find in writers who turned out a lot. The most frequent pattern is the "bad" or "wild" girl who won't be tamed. There's one in almost every single book. The main thing I noted is that the so-called bad girl, except I think in one, always has a good heart. And she isn't always tamed. Her adversary in many of these is the perfect Victorian girl, what we would call deeply repressed. And a lot of these don't get a happy ending, unless they learn to relent. Though in most respects the manners and mores are what one expects for the time (but oh, the details of daily living, manners everyone understood, etc!)this thread of breaking free is a constant, and these books were apparently very popular.

The best school stories are a rich fund of Victoriana, full of interesting characters, but scrupulously divided by gender. I guess that kept them safe for kids. (Also, these writers weren't great with adult stuff. I only read one of Meade's romances. It was drippy, dreary, a Grand Misunderstanding that should have been wrapped up by chapter two dragged out for an entire book.)

Kids

May. 13th, 2012 08:11 am
sartorias: (Default)
Happy Mother's Day to all who mother. Today's post is Adults who loved young adult literature--why, what suggestions do you have?

I'd like to flush some recommendations out of the woodwork besides highly publicized urban fantasy series, but on the other hand, if people want to talk about those, fine!

I've been using Kindle to explore YA of a century ago and more. One of the reasons why I can't read the 'steampunk Victorian' series is because the Victorian veneer is so thin. There is a huge audience who loves modern people in historical dress up novels. I tend to reach for the ones that try to evoke the worldview as well as the details of a different time, so of course the Real McCoy is going to do that. With all its warts.

The thing is that Victoriana is not all repressive conformity. It's such a variety, from the cheerful crudities of Jorrocks (extremely popular at the height of the period) to Kipling (much later, but very difficult to peg into any hole) to the sharp insight of George Eliot.

The YA of the later years seems to have flourished around the school story. And a writer almost unheard of now, who wrote a tremendous amount for girls, was L. T. Meade. Her stuff was impossible to find except at high prices in this country. I still haven't seen a print copy of any of her books. But these, like those of Talbot Baines Reed, are surprisingly good reading. The latter is a strong influence on Wodehouse, with mostly funny school stories for boys. L.T. Meade also wrote school stories, but the interesting thing about hers is that she began writing when schools for girls were becoming more common.

They'd been around for a long time--we have Jane Eyre as evidence for that.Ditto finishing schools. But general education for females seems to have taken off latterly in the century, and what Meade writes about are all kinds of schools. She never sets anything at Girton (which was a new experiment when she was writing, and it gets referred to it that way in a couple of her novels.) She makes up schools--from bigger ones to small schools run out of a home by either widows or by wives of indigent professors.

There are patterns in her stories, as one tends to find in writers who turned out a lot. The most frequent pattern is the "bad" or "wild" girl who won't be tamed. There's one in almost every single book. The main thing I noted is that the so-called bad girl, except I think in one, always has a good heart. And she isn't always tamed. Her adversary in many of these is the perfect Victorian girl, what we would call deeply repressed. And a lot of these don't get a happy ending, unless they learn to relent. Though in most respects the manners and mores are what one expects for the time (but oh, the details of daily living, manners everyone understood, etc!)this thread of breaking free is a constant, and these books were apparently very popular.

The best school stories are a rich fund of Victoriana, full of interesting characters, but scrupulously divided by gender. I guess that kept them safe for kids. (Also, these writers weren't great with adult stuff. I only read one of Meade's romances. It was drippy, dreary, a Grand Misunderstanding that should have been wrapped up by chapter two dragged out for an entire book.)
sartorias: (Default)
I've gotten into a conversation with a couple of people, and it boils down to: what are the important elements of a YA novel now? Everyone agrees that what makes a story "young adult" is changing--and it's not just the inclusion of cuss words, or sex, both of which have appeared in Problem Novels going back to the late sixties, though they weren't so much in fantasy or sf or many strands of mainstream.

One person maintains that it has to be about young adults--with YA characters. Another feels that it can be about one teen, the rest adults, but as long as the teen is the viewpoint character, it's okay.

I asked a couple of teens, and one said: romance. There has to be a girl and a guy, or maybe a girl and two guys, and her BFF to talk with, or maybe two girls and one guy . . . (you get the idea) and the other teen said it has to be funny, that she's sick of serious books.

Sooooo . . . what do you think the elements of a YA novel?

[Edited to Add: I had to lock it as this post, for some reason, was attracting mountains of spam]
sartorias: (Default)
I've gotten into a conversation with a couple of people, and it boils down to: what are the important elements of a YA novel now? Everyone agrees that what makes a story "young adult" is changing--and it's not just the inclusion of cuss words, or sex, both of which have appeared in Problem Novels going back to the late sixties, though they weren't so much in fantasy or sf or many strands of mainstream.

One person maintains that it has to be about young adults--with YA characters. Another feels that it can be about one teen, the rest adults, but as long as the teen is the viewpoint character, it's okay.

I asked a couple of teens, and one said: romance. There has to be a girl and a guy, or maybe a girl and two guys, and her BFF to talk with, or maybe two girls and one guy . . . (you get the idea) and the other teen said it has to be funny, that she's sick of serious books.

Sooooo . . . what do you think the elements of a YA novel?
sartorias: (Default)
So here I am sixty years old (geez, I still don't believe that) reading stuff printed for teens, for a jury.

And that's a problem. It's not a new problem. But it's one I have to think about every day while I do this.

There's a lot published for kids which kids enjoy that I don't. I've seen the storyline, the characters, too many times. I see the prose cheats that used to shuffle me right along where the author wanted me to go (Something behind her eyes told him that she was . . .) . . . if I pull far enough out, I see the stories we tell each other over and over in our culture right now: they reflect each other because they work for a great many readers.

So what do I think is award worthy? There's the Newbery Award problem--something that adults think exquisitely written, subtle and deep and meaningful . . . and that kids find boring, or a total turnoff. "Well they should be reaching for better books . . ." "They have to learn taste some time . . ." "We need to expand their thinking and vocabulary . . ." all the shoulds come trotting out, and yes, there's a point in it. Learning is about exposure to great art as well as to science, math, yadda. But too many times you give kids books they are not ready for, and it turns them off reading, or they get through it, shrug, and say, "I would rather read Captain Underpants." I was not the only teacher whose Newbery award winners sat untouched on the classroom shelves, while kids delved into worn-out popular books that never win plaudits for literary greatness.

I keep coming back to this conversation I had with someone at Fourth Street last summer, when the subject of the Norton came up, and recommended reading. She said if she were a SFWA member, she'd nominate Jo Walton's Among Others. I pointed out that it's a book for adults, and probably will be a candidate for adult awards.

She said something to the effect of, "I don't care about awards--I never pay attention to them. Here's what's important to me. If that book had been written when I was fourteen, it would have been life changing, I would have read it to pieces. As it is, I've read it three times just this year alone."

Whatever anyone thinks of Among Others (as adult or YA, as a good book or indifferent) that conversation keeps coming back to me. What kind of book would I have reread reread to pieces at fourteen? Or sixteen. Or twelve. I am enough in touch with my younger self (and I still have a lot of my reading notes) to gauge what I might have liked back then that I don't necessarily now.

Like Divergent--I couldn't force myself through it, the worldbuilding was so utterly unconvincing. I could see the author's hand shoving the writerly Legos around in order to create maximum teen angst--the backdrop made Hunger Games's iffy world look complicated. However, at fourteen, I would have gobbled both books down.

Yet I don't think I ever would have reread Divergent, though I might have reread Hunger Games when I was in an angry mood. (I remember the books I reread in those moods, as a teen.)

What works for one is not going to work for all, obviously. But I think that conversation crystalized my thinking: I need to be looking for the books that not only throw me back into my younger self, but give me that sense that I would have walked back to the library to check it out again and again.
sartorias: (Default)
So here I am sixty years old (geez, I still don't believe that) reading stuff printed for teens, for a jury.

And that's a problem. It's not a new problem. But it's one I have to think about every day while I do this.

There's a lot published for kids which kids enjoy that I don't. I've seen the storyline, the characters, too many times. I see the prose cheats that used to shuffle me right along where the author wanted me to go (Something behind her eyes told him that she was . . .) . . . if I pull far enough out, I see the stories we tell each other over and over in our culture right now: they reflect each other because they work for a great many readers.

So what do I think is award worthy? There's the Newbery Award problem--something that adults think exquisitely written, subtle and deep and meaningful . . . and that kids find boring, or a total turnoff. "Well they should be reaching for better books . . ." "They have to learn taste some time . . ." "We need to expand their thinking and vocabulary . . ." all the shoulds come trotting out, and yes, there's a point in it. Learning is about exposure to great art as well as to science, math, yadda. But too many times you give kids books they are not ready for, and it turns them off reading, or they get through it, shrug, and say, "I would rather read Captain Underpants." I was not the only teacher whose Newbery award winners sat untouched on the classroom shelves, while kids delved into worn-out popular books that never win plaudits for literary greatness.

I keep coming back to this conversation I had with someone at Fourth Street last summer, when the subject of the Norton came up, and recommended reading. She said if she were a SFWA member, she'd nominate Jo Walton's Among Others. I pointed out that it's a book for adults, and probably will be a candidate for adult awards.

She said something to the effect of, "I don't care about awards--I never pay attention to them. Here's what's important to me. If that book had been written when I was fourteen, it would have been life changing, I would have read it to pieces. As it is, I've read it three times just this year alone."

Whatever anyone thinks of Among Others (as adult or YA, as a good book or indifferent) that conversation keeps coming back to me. What kind of book would I have reread reread to pieces at fourteen? Or sixteen. Or twelve. I am enough in touch with my younger self (and I still have a lot of my reading notes) to gauge what I might have liked back then that I don't necessarily now.

Like Divergent--I couldn't force myself through it, the worldbuilding was so utterly unconvincing. I could see the author's hand shoving the writerly Legos around in order to create maximum teen angst--the backdrop made Hunger Games's iffy world look complicated. However, at fourteen, I would have gobbled both books down.

Yet I don't think I ever would have reread Divergent, though I might have reread Hunger Games when I was in an angry mood. (I remember the books I reread in those moods, as a teen.)

What works for one is not going to work for all, obviously. But I think that conversation crystalized my thinking: I need to be looking for the books that not only throw me back into my younger self, but give me that sense that I would have walked back to the library to check it out again and again.
sartorias: (Default)
Some thoughts about the Harry Potter phenomenon.

I did not get a chance to read LJ yesterday, and now my flist is too long to catch up on, so I hope everyone in the US has had a great Thanksgiving.
sartorias: (Default)
Some thoughts about the Harry Potter phenomenon.

I did not get a chance to read LJ yesterday, and now my flist is too long to catch up on, so I hope everyone in the US has had a great Thanksgiving.
sartorias: (Default)
and the snap of the real.

New young adult novel from Small Beer Press by Delia Sherman, and what makes a book real?
sartorias: (Default)
and the snap of the real.

New young adult novel from Small Beer Press by Delia Sherman, and what makes a book real?
sartorias: (Default)
The line between YA and adult fantasy has been blurring. I've been talking about it with various people, with a variety of answers. So I interviewed a writer who recently launched a YA novel, after having published one for adults. In both, we began with teenage protagonists, but the stories played out very differently. Check it out here.

All discussion welcome--I really want to get into this--though my response time might be off, as I am in motion today (shifting from Martha's Vineyard to Boston).
sartorias: (Default)
The line between YA and adult fantasy has been blurring. I've been talking about it with various people, with a variety of answers. So I interviewed a writer who recently launched a YA novel, after having published one for adults. In both, we began with teenage protagonists, but the stories played out very differently. Check it out here.

All discussion welcome--I really want to get into this--though my response time might be off, as I am in motion today (shifting from Martha's Vineyard to Boston).
sartorias: (Default)
The unnamed agency in our previous post has chosen to come forward to present their perception of our exchange. We confirm that it was the agency we referred to. We stand by every word we wrote in our original article.

We did not wish to name them, because we preferred to focus on the larger issues. We did not spread rumors about them, and we don't know who did.

This is why we went public: After the initial exchange a month ago, we spoke in private to a number of other writers, without mentioning the name of the agent or agency. There was an overwhelming response of "Me too!" Many other writers had been asked by agents and editors to alter or remove the minority identity of their characters, sometimes as a condition of representation or sale. Sometimes those identities had been altered by editors without the writers' knowledge or permission.


That response, and posts like
Malinda Lo's recent statistics
make it clear that the problem is much larger than a couple of writers and one specific agency.

We urge you all to continue focusing on the bigger picture.

Discussion is welcome, but please keep the discussion to issues and not personalities.

EDITED TO ADD: Anonymous innuendo against anyone involved in this exchange is being deleted. So are personal attacks. The sooner we can get back to the real issue, the better.

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