All posts by Alethea

Pervasive Sexual Innuendo

Alethea Kontis, mermaids, , , ,

As promised last month, when I got off on a Hunger Games tangent, this is my actual, intelligent post about Team Edward vs. Team Jacob. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The King of Hearts recommends beginning at the beginning, and so I shall.

So this novel I wrote (Enchanted) comes out next month, and the reviews (which I read) are pouring in from every direction. These reviews are all over the place–from one star to five stars–but that’s good. I don’t want everyone to love my book. I want some people to love it and some people to hate, because that sparks a conversation, and conversations make the world go round.

But this post is not about reviews. This post is about sex.

One reviewer on Goodreads (who shall remain nameless only because I lack the energy to hunt it down), mentioned that she couldn’t even finish Enchanted because of all the pervasive sexual innuendo.

Now, I’m a fan of reading about sex, but I don’t write about it. And that’s okay. There are plenty more authors (here on this website, even!) who are more talented than I when it comes to writing sex scenes. I like the cheesy, embarrassing, falling in love part of the relationship. I write YA, so this is not a problem. (I also have no problem with YA titles that include sexual situations, so let’s not go there.)

But I was baffled that this novel I wrote was apparently SO RAUNCHY that a reader couldn’t even finish it. And I wasn’t even trying.

GO, ME!!!

My curious cat was satisfied when another reader–who also hated the book–went on at length about why, including and explanation all the “pervasive sexual innuendo” that permeated the first part of the book. (Thank you.)

The hero of Enchanted, Rumbold, grew up as a spoiled brat prince with no mother and a misogynist dad. He had all of life at his fingertips, money was no object, and–oh yeah–he couldn’t die until the frog curse kicked in on his eighteenth birthday. When eighteen came and went and the curse didn’t kick in, he just got frustrated and lashed out.

If you were an eighteen year old boy with all the money and power you could ever want and you couldn’t die, what would YOU do?  WHATEVER YOU WANTED, right? So he did.

Then the curse kicked in, during which time he met the love of his life, and he worried about what she might think of his incredibly sordid past…

(That’s about all I can tell you without getting into spoiler territory)

So here’s what I think: This all boils down to being a matter of Team Edward versus Team Jacob. While I never finished reading Twilight (I didn’t care for Bella and Edward made no sense to me), I’ve consulted with many folks who have. They agreed that it’s fair to say that Edward is the Celibate Guy Who Waits Forever For His One True Love and Jacob is…well…a Wolf.

I never had cause to think of it before, but Rumbold is definitely a Team Jacob kind of guy. He was young. He was a mess. He had opportunities. He took them. He had all the starry-eyed romance ripped from his life when he was a child, and then when he actually found it, he put a lot of work into picking up the pieces.

I suspect this is why Edward made no sense to me. From what little of Twilight I read, he spent about a century and a half alone and going to high school. (Seriously, how much does a guy have to hate himself to go through that torture?) If there was a particular reason that Edward wasn’t looking at every pair of legs that walked by, then I might have been a little more emotionally invested in his character.

I’m guessing that all the Rumbold-haters in the audience are probably of the Team Edward persuasion. But even in my fantasy stories I have to be realistic.

Girls, Ladies, Young Women: The guy you find, that one guy for you, is not going to be perfect. Don’t try to make him perfect. But he’s going to want to be a better man, for you, and that’s what matters.

Those of you on Team Jacob — I highly recommend placing your preorder for Enchanted right now.

Those of you on Team Edward…well, you’re just going to have to wait for the sequel.

Which Team are you? Or do you want to fight with me about Twilight? Bring it on. Conversations make the world go round.

 

Team Katniss

Alethea Kontis, mermaids, , , ,

So here’s the deal. I had this great post all ready to write about “insta-love” in YA novels (my new favorite term), followed by an actual, intelligent discussion of Team Edward and Team Jacob.

And then The Today Show ticked me off while I was at the gym (again…why can’t they change the channel?) and I decided to write up this fanatical little rant about The Hunger Games. As the film comes out this weekend, it seemed fitting. (And hell yes, I’m going to see it on Sunday.)

I loved every book in this trilogy. Loved them. It still bugs me that they’re written in first person present tense (if you ever have the urge to do that, PLEASE DON’T), but they are gorgeously written and incredibly fun…which is how it became this huge, colossal entity. (Unlike Twilight, the popularity of which still baffles me.)

What the Hunger Games is NOT, is a trilogy of romance novels. Sure, there are romantic elements in it, but there are more romantic elements in Castle, and that still qualifies as a Crime Drama. The Hunger Games is dystopian science fiction fantasy. Horror, even. It’s a story of surviving your teenage years–which the majority of us seemed to manage without 23 other people desperately trying to kill us (despite how it felt sometimes).

So it really tees me off when faces like the dolts on The Today Show start spouting crap about “Team Gale” and “Team Peeta” like the books are some kind of Twilight clones. A few of my guy friends actually  stopped reading after the first book, because they were exposed to all this “Team” stuff and were afraid that’s what the books devolved into.

*sigh*

There is only one Team in The Hunger Games, and that is Team Katniss.

Period.

As I ranted on Facebook, The Hunger Games is not about finding a boy. It’s about taking responsibility and finding the strength in yourself to do what needs to be done. This is a really important talking point for teenagers that is now regrettably swept under this stupid “Team” rug.

YA author Malinda Lo agreed with me, in this article she wrote for “Enchanted Ink” before Mockingjay was even released. The “Teams” thing had already started up then. And while Malinda points out how fun it is to take a side, it’s a little silly when it’s NOT THE POINT OF THE BOOK.

No doubt this whole Peeta vs. Gale thing is perpetuated by Twilight-savvy publicists who’ve never read a page. All they see is, “What stupid thing can we say that will get young people talking?” Well, I’m talking. And what I’m saying is this:

The Hunger Games was, is, and will always be ABOUT KATNISS.

Cute boys will come and go, but strong girls will always be number one. Always.

I am Team Katniss.

That is all.

 

2012 Marlene Contest Finalists Announced!

mermaids, ,

The Washington Romance Writers have just announced the finalists for the 2012 Marlene Contest. The Waterworld Mermaids would like to congratulate all the finalists. Well done!
(With special hugs to Mermaid Denny S. Bryce — we’re all proud of you, fishy-girl!)

Series Contemporary
Kelley Brown, DATING MS. WRIGHT
Nancy S. Evertz (Nan Dixon), SOUTHERN COMFORT
Ami Weaver, THE CHRISTMAS BRIDE

Single Title
Kimberly Kincaid, IT‚S NOT YOU (WRW Member)
Heather Nickodem, CAT ON A HOT STEEL FLIGHT DECK
Lisa Slabach, ENTER STAGE LEFT

Romantic Elements
Susan Bickford, SYNCHRONY’S CALL
Lisa Chaplin, BUTTERFLY ON THE TIDE (WRW Member)
Kim Hernandez/Kimberley Troutte, EPICENTER

Historical
Erin Brauer, SWEET SURRENDER
Mayo Lucas, DEALER’S CHOICE
Jennifer McQuiston, WHAT HAPPENS IN SCOTLAND
Betty Trovarelli, THE WICKED EARL OF WESTFIELD
(There were two double ties: two 99s and two 98s.)

Paranormal
Denny S. Bryce, GIDEON (WRW member)
Traci Douglass, SEAL OF FATE
Angela Quarles, MUST LOVE BREECHES

Young Adult
Carla Cullen, THE FALLEN PRINCESS
Sera Phyn, SING, SWEET NIGHTINGALE
Kimberly Savage, GRACE AND THE GUARDIAN

On The Quality of Skin

Alethea Kontis, mermaids

I’m going to begin this blog post the way I hate people starting emails: with an apology.

I am sorry. I was wrong.

I have, in the past, on numerous occasions, stated vehemently that I do not read reviews for my books. Yes, I will skim through them if my editor sends them to me, because she has taken the time to collect them and copy them and mail hard copies to me, and ignoring her hard work would be a disservice. But I do not want to be one of those people who checks Amazon or Goodreads every day hour minute for affirmation. I do not want to yell and scream and tilt at windmills because some reader called me out for something they obviously misconstrued, or gave me one star in revenge because I cheated during the sixth grade spelling bee. I do not want to be weeping in a ball on the tiles in my bathroom because some major publication found me lacking, or misspelled my name, or worse: didn’t mention me at all.

My Greek great grandmother, the great Mama Mitchell, once said: “Never let strangers upset you.” I wholeheartedly agree with this statement. But I know myself. I knew, even when I was a little girl, that I could never be a doctor because I would get too emotionally involved. I would never be able to survive the loss of a patient. I knew I could never be a teacher for risk of losing my patience. I still remember crying on the steps one New Year’s Eve when some contest sponsored by fruity cultists threw the best story I’d ever written out with the bathwater. That rejection broke my heart like a cruel boyfriend.

To succumb to any amount of fear and terror and sadness is giving those strangers power over me. The only one who deserves power over me, is ME.

So every time I opened that envelope in the mail, or clicked the link on a Google Alert, I had a kind of out-of-body experience. I pretended I was reading something written about someone else. If it was bad, shrug. If it was good, shrug and smile. I blogged about them or not, and then I moved on. I did not let them define who I was, or shape the person I would become.

This winter, I started booking a blog tour. I started talking to bloggers. I followed the tweets of people who had gotten hold of ARCs at ALA, or from the publisher. I gave away (and am still giving away) books on Goodreads. I watched YouTube videos where exceptionally cute and excited young women slaughtered the pronunciation of my name. I made some amazing new friends, and I asked these wonderful people if they please wouldn’t mind helping me get the word out about my debut novel. They said yes. Yes, they would help this crazy woman who played dress-up achieve her dream of living in a fairy tale.

And then they sent me their reviews.

In so many ways, a review isn’t just whether your book is awesome or sucks. Okay, yes, those reviews do exist as well, but it takes as much effort to read those reviews as it does to forget them. A review that a blogger posts on their personal blog isn’t just a job they do for a magazine. It’s a bunch of hours they’ve taken out of their life to dedicate solely to you and your work. You have put your book out into the world, and people are allowed to have insights on it. They are entitled to their opinions. They have feelings. These reviews are written by people, and these people matter, no less than you or me.

As you know, I have my own saying about strangers: Strangers are just best friends I haven’t met yet. Ignoring their hard work and points of view would be a disservice.

YA author David Macinnis Gill posted a beautiful essay on his website about how it’s okay for authors to be thin-skinned. It’s this quality that makes us the emotional people we are, which translates into the emotional people we write, and we wouldn’t have us any other way. David doesn’t like to read reviews, terrific or otherwise. Once upon a time, I wouldn’t blame him.

But I’ve seen a vast demesne from the window of my Tower at the Top of the World, a sprawling network of bibliophiles who think and feel and speak and read and love and hate and pass it on. I want to celebrate them and their achievements. I want to listen to them. I want to hear what they have to say. I want to enable them in any way I can. So I started reading reviews.

I can’t tell you how humbled I am at what I’ve found: good and bad and everything in between. One woman scolded the AlphaOops Halloween book as not being appropriate for young children. “Kids these days dress up as fairies, firefighters, astronauts, etc. so they aren’t used to seeing all of these scary creatures.” It is to laugh, right? And yet, another woman wrote about how her son was having a tough time learning his letters, but after a week of reading AlphaOops, he knew them all. A two year old in California loved it so much, he destroyed the copy his mom had checked out from the library…and she admitted this to everyone on Amazon. My Nana’s review is still there too, in all caps, complete with misspellings and details on her trip to the dentist.

Enchanted, even thought it won’t be in stores for another couple of months, is already getting significant blog attention (in no small part to the very lovely cover, thank you Harcourt). Kirkus, ironically, hated the cover but granted me a star for the “wizardly grace of my storytelling.” On the flip side, a woman on Goodreads (who is completely entitled to her opinion, so please let’s leave her to have it, thank you), stopped reading Enchanted because of its horrible pervasive sexual innuendo. (I’m still scratching my head at that one. And yes, she was reading the correct book.)

Most recently, a review from Embrace You, a multicultural webzine, almost brought me to tears. Not because it was such a wonderful, heartfelt review–which it was–but because the reviewer (Kai) saw something in the book that I had never realized. “There’s emphasis on the meaning of loss,” she wrote, “in death, to marriage, and in magic.” I have never been taken so aback as I was when I read that someone I did not know had seen something in my writing–in me–that I had never seen.

Maybe all those years of avoiding reviews has grown me a thick skin, but I doubt it. I still cry when I open my annual Valentine’s gift from my daddy, or when I see the fairy goddaughters giggling together on the couch and miss my little sister like a lost limb. I’m pretty sure I’m still the same old me, only nowadays I wear a tiara and read book reviews. And that’s okay.

See there, I’ve said it again: I read book reviews. Mea culpa. The Princess Was Wrong Day. Mark your calendars.

And now I’d like to thank you all for taking the time to read me. Happy Monday to you. xox

 

Write What You Know

Alethea Kontis, Motivation, Writing

“Write what you know.”

Ugh.

I hate this cliche bit of writing advice. I first heard it as said to Jo March in Little Women, and then again and again as I dove into the deep, Olympic swimming pool of the writing world.

The trouble with this advice, as with all cliches, is there’s quite a bit of truth in it.

Which is so annoying.

How does one write about magical worlds and special girls with secret powers and evil queens and glittery unicorns when one lives in THIS world? I mean, look around. This world is full of dirty clothes and dirty dishes and traffic jams and bathroom scales and taxes. Taxes, for goodness sake.

Ugh. No way.

The work around this (for me) was to make my life magic. This sounds impossible, but it’s really not. What do you want your forte to be? Become the expert in that field. Vampires? Steampunk? Space Flight? Mermaids? Look it up. Research it. The more you do…the more you find things that parallel your own life.

Trust me. It’s creepy, but true.

There’s another cliche: “Art imitates life.” That one’s true too.

For me, it was the fairy tales — true allegory if there ever was some. Once I sunk my teeth in deep enough, it wasn’t hard to see the parallels in my own life. I am a third child of a third child and a first child of a first child. I was a lost girl in a dark wood who came out the other side a princess. My youngest sister traveled the world to find her fortune, and now jewels fall from her mouth whenever she speaks. My father, the storyteller, once used fairy tale logic to hide top secret information in plain sight. And my mother…well…this is my mother.

‘Nuff said.

Happy Solstice!

Alethea Kontis, mermaids, , ,

I love this day of the year. THIS, more than January 1st, is my New Year’s Day.

The Winter Solstice is the shortest day of the year, followed by the longest night. (Thus the Yule Log, to light the darkness and keep evil spirits away.)

But what this means ultimately is that after tonight, THE DAYS START GETTING LONGER.

Winter is so difficult. Many of us love the darkness (especially those of us who suffer from migraines), but it’s tough to fight those Circadian Rhythms that tell us to be tired when it starts getting dark outside. It feels like 10pm, but it’s only 6:30. You know what I’m talking about.

Then there’s SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) and the general depression that the holidays bring to a lot of people…its a tough time of year, folks.

Today I would like you all to take a minute to yourself and light a candle. If you don’t have a candle handy (silly person), then sip a cup of tea/cocoa/coffee and close your eyes. Take a deep breath. And think about your inner light. What is it that makes you happy in this world? What makes you smile every time you see/hear/smell it? What memories keep you going? What inspires you? How do you inspire others?

We all have lights inside us that shine brighter than any Yule Log. What we have to remember — as I learned from growing up in the South — is to not “hide that light under a bushel.”

Take this day to remember how amazing you are. And, f you are so inclined, take a moment to remind someone in your life how amazing they are, as well.

Happy holidays, everyone!

xox
Princess Alethea Mermaid

Do You NaNo?

Alethea Kontis, Motivation, ,

Welcome to November 1st, my watery denizens. You know what that means!

Yes, in writerly circles, November 1st marks the advent of NaNoWriMo— National Novel Writing Month. In short, those who sign up (I believe you can still sign up today) pledge to attempt to write 50,000 words in the month of November.

I’m not sure why November was chosen as opposed to say, August, when there are no Holidays and people are expected to go to parties and shop for the holiday season of their choice…but that wasn’t up to me.

My handle on NaNo (as it is affectionately called) is Princess Alethea. I will also be tweeting some of my progress and writing sprints under the #NaNoWriMo hashtag.

I have participated in NaNoWriMo every year since 2005, and I have yet to get to 50,000 words. But I still participate every year, and I am still proud when I look at my word count come December 1st.

Now, there are all sorts of theories about how NaNoWriMo should work. Like writing, THERE IS NO ONE WAY TO DO IT. Should you try to write 50,000 words this month? Absolutely. Should you commit seppuku if you do not achieve this goal? Of course not.The purpose of NaNoWriMo is to teach you to find that elusive BUTT in CHAIR state, and get used to it. In the month of November, you will feel what is like to be a full-time writer. If writing is your goal, these are good habits to have. If you are already a writer, these are good habits to remember. This is why I sign up and play the game, every single year.

A couple of things to address:

PLANNING: A lot of folks plan what they’re doing for NaNo prior to the month. They have an outline and a writing space and time in their schedule.

I hate these people.

I usually have a general idea of what project I want to work on going into November, but that’s about it. This year, I got  a second dayjob as a sub at an afterschool program. It sounds crazy (and is), but it also forced a routine into my schedule. I told the bookstore that I could work 9-2 on the weekdays, and assorted weekends. The days I had off at the afterschool program, or the bookstore, would just be writing time. Hooray! My days were going to go from up in the air all the time to a set schedule. I had PLANNED TIME for writing. I told the afterschool program that I could start on November 1st. This was PERFECT.

Apparently, Murphy (my guardian angel) heard the word “perfect” and slapped me down for it. One manager at the bookstore got spirited away to help open more bookstores, and the other manager got fed up with this situation and quit. Suddenly, instead of quietly slipping into a position of less responsibility, as of Saturday I will be the only acting Manager on the premises. Yeah. Oops.

SO you haven’t planned. So you have a wrench somewhere in the works. Who cares? I have a secret: your life will never be perfect, and you’re still going to have to find a way to shove the writing in between the cracks. Make this promise to yourself, just for this month, and see what you can do. I dare you.

CHEATING: Some people say that if you 1.) continue a novel already in progress, 2.) don’t finish your novel in 50,000 words or 3.) write “shark shark shark shark turtle shark” for 24 pages, you’re CHEATING. You know what? I don’t care about this either. Princess Alethea Mermaid’s rules say that if you write 50,000 words in November, whatever those words are, you’ve “won.” Of course, Princess Alethea thinks if you only write 24,000 words in that month, you have also “won.” I mean, come on. In what other month have you written 24,000 words? (Except you horrible prolific people. Just humor me here, okay? Don’t rub it in.

Go on, jump in the deep end! The water’s fine. We’ll be swimming/flailing/treading water right alongside you. Are you with me? xox

Semantics by Alethea Kontis

Alethea Kontis, Free Read, , ,

“What are you doing out here?”

It had taken him long enough to find her. Holly felt Jacob’s touch on her shoulder but did not turn around. Time was too fleeting. She wanted to revel a little longer in the chill of the dark Spring night, the giggle of the creek below her, the crunch of the grass under her feet. Charlie’s mind hadn’t gotten the grass quite right yet.

“I was scolded for talking to the children,” she said. “So I came out to catch fireflies by the water.” She scooped up a lightning bug that had rested on the branch beside her, serenely blinking like an empty street on the day after Christmas. Holly remembered Christmas, and the little girl who had dreamed about it once. Holly had taken her name.

“Technically it’s not catching when you don’t chase them,” said Jacob.

“Technically it’s not chasing when they wait to be found.” Even after so long, it was ever the argument with them.

“It’s not really a creek,” he said.

“It’s not really night either, but you don’t hear me complaining.” Holly opened her palm and let the firefly escape, leaving nothing on her fingertips but wishes and dew.

“I’m not complaining,” he said. “Just stating the facts.”

“Facts have no business here,” said Holly.

Continue reading →

#amwriting

Alethea Kontis, Motivation, ,

There’s a hashtag on Twitter for authors who are writing: #amwriting.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been #amwriting lately, and it’s gone to my head. I need to cut it out. Get with the discipline. Have some accountability.

“Good lord, this sounds like Weight Watchers,” I say to myself at this point, which may sound a lot like what you’re saying to yourself right now.

Sometimes I get annoyed when writers post their word metrics. But why? I can read them or ignore them, at my whim. What’s important is that the writer is WRITING, and those metrics hold them accountable to not only themselves but the rest of the world.

And so, for at least the next month, I challenge you to come along with me and post your word metrics. Be honest. Be realistic. Do it every single day. Remember — even six words is better than nothing. Just like climbing those stairs is better than sitting on your butt.

I wrote 1544 words yesterday. As soon as I go post that number on my blog, I’ll start writing again and see how far I can get.

Are you guys with me?

How much have you written today?

Project: Saturday (sequel to Enchanted)
Deadline: Dec 31, 2011
New words written: 1544
Present total word count: 12,844 words