I feel humbled and so excited to see Cattywampus chosen for American Bookseller Association's 's Indie Next List for Fall 2020!! 💙 Indie stores and the books they support are near and dear to my heart, so I consider this a huge honor and a privilege. Thank you, independent bookstores! (Don't forget to support your locals, y'all!)
I love music—all sorts—with every fiber of my being. I tend to hum, finger drum, sing, and whistle my way through the day, so it’s not surprising that it’s impossible for me to write without a great playlist that vibes with my story theme!
While I was writing Cattywampus, I actually had two playlists; one for drafting and another for edits, that contained over 60 songs combined! They included a lot of my favorite regional artists, old folk songs, and songs that really captured a mood or emotion I needed for a scene.
I love seeing writer’s musical inspiration, so for anyone interested, here’s a short version of Cattywampus’ writing playlist!
Also, a gargantuan thank-you to everyone who came to Cattywampus’ online launch! Social distancing is rough, but this was the next-best thing to having a room crammed full of smiling faces, and I was thrilled to see everyone. It was so much fun to chat with Julie Abe about her fantastic debut, Eva Evergreen Semi-Magical Witch and hear about her world-building process, and I really loved answering questions attendees asked about the process of writing our books!
Watching attendees guess at the “Two truths and a lie” questions was my favorite bit. <3
A big thanks to Ballast Book Co, and to Nathaniel for being such a wonderful host! And a big thank-you to Julie, for the amazing conversation!!
:::fist pump::: SUCCESSFUL LAUNCH!!
Cattywampus and Eva Evergreen Semi-Magical Witch, surrounded by cups, donuts, jellybeans, flowers from the author’s garden, and party blowers
Collage of author dropping signed copies into local Little Free Libraries, as an act of debut-day celebration earlier this week!
The past couple of weeks have been BUSY, y’all! CATTYWAMPUS celebrates its book birthday in THREE DAYS (cue internal screaming and excitement), and that means lots of wonderful book=related things have been happening!
On July 15th, I got to participate in ABA’s (American Booksellers Association) Virtual Ci8 Indies Introduce panel along with several other amazing kidlit authors! It was a huge honor to have Cattywampus chosen, and the experience was so much fun. I particularly enjoyed hearing the insights and heart behind some of this year’s fantastic debuts. (I’m reading through the books now, and so far I’ve read and absolutely adored You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson, A Wolf For a Spell by Karah Sutton, and Legendborn by Tracy Deonn! I can’t wait to enjoy the rest.)
Ash (smiling in kiwi print shirt) talking with Chelsea Bauer of Union Ave Books in Knoxville, Tennessee, with an ASL in interpreter talking in an animated way
Also a total blast has been recording a Writing Villains panel for the first ever online Middle Ground Book Fest, whose videos are available here as resources for writers, parents, and educators! I can’t overstate what a gift this is to the community (and myself!) as we move into a really strange/unprecedented school year. The organizers and my fellow presenters really knocked it out of the park and gave so generously of themselves, and it was really cool to participate.
Now the big excitement…THIS WEEK IS THE WEEK!! CATTYWAMPUS hits the shelves this Tuesday Aug 4th, and this week has been a blur of my own books arriving, signing pre-ordered copies at the bookstore, and realizing this is really (finally!) happening!!
The journey from first draft to fully published book is long, and full of long nights/tears/effort, but if I had it to do all over again, I’d roll up my sleeves and get to work in a heartbeat. This book is a love letter to my home region, as well as to anyone struggling to find their own homespun magic, and I hope with all my heart it amuses, inspires, and strengthens your love for yourself in your community, dear reader!
Ash sitting cross-legged wearing a blue mermaid-print shirt and a mask, signing copies of CATTYWAMPUS with a Sharpie at one of their nearby bookstores! Photo credit: Nathaniel at Ballast Book Co
They’re here!!
(Cover illustrator Abigail Dela Cruz &the design team did a fantastic job!!!)
A launch celebration chat/event next Sat (8/8, 4pm PST) hosted by Ballast Book Co, with myself and Eva Evergreen Semi-Magical Witch author Julie Abe!
Live Stream: Erica Waters and Ash Van Otterloo in conversation, hosted by Malaprops in Asheville, NC on August 14th, 6pm EST (3pm PST)
(Stay tuned for more exciting announcements which are still in the works!)
Last but not least…Here are the winners for today’s preorder/library request Cattywampus swag drawing packages!!!
A big thank you to all who participated, and happy congrats to Lisa F and Esme W, the winners of today’s drawing. <3
I hope you’re doing well and hanging in there through this difficult year, and please know that you absolutely matter in this world. Much love!
-Ash
Large evergreens stretching up to the sky at one of the author’s favorite places to chill.
I cut my teeth on betrayal. Or at the very least, I lived with the ghost of it as a creepy companion, like children might keep an imaginary friend.
Let me explain: I was raised in an expansive extreme-fundamentalist community in the evangelical south. I was socialized as girl, and with that came certain expectations: my role in life was to submit, to obey, to stand up for Right (but only as Right was defined by others), and to look forward to a life of relinquishing agency and following the orders of leaders who I often observed to be abusive and corrupt.
The adults around me loved me, but it was very clear in my mind at all times that they loved and unconditionally supported a certain version of my body and self: one that propped up and served an often exploitative patriarchal ideology. Stepping outside that prescribed role meant straying into an arid no man’s land of “love the sinner, hate the sin” (or, more often expressed, “I don’t agree with your lifestyle choices, but I love you.” )
It was a smug, arm’s length love, and once you got the label, it was a stink that often didn’t rub off at a community level—at least not until you betrayed yourself by recanting. And even then, folks still viewed differently for the rest of your life, concerned you might backslide into “dangerous” queer behavior.
If you wanted to be in the circle of community, it was important to perform your prescribed role.
(I’m not sharing to illicit sympathy—it’s just how it happened, and therefore important backstory.)
Still, looking back, little tells peppered my life: Every Tuesday for a while, I dressed up as a boy named Eric “so my little sib could know what it was like to have an older brother.” I had a fascination with horror re-runs, which I watched at my grandparents’ house, and with characters I now recognize were queer-coded. I wore approved conservative t-shirts that were several sizes too big in the name of ‘modesty’ to feel comfortable with my body. I obsessed over the gritty sadness in the voice of Jennifer Knapp, a Christian alt-rock artist who later came out as a lesbian. In conservative college, nearly every single friend I gravitated toward was in the closet. We joked about queerness, dangerously close to The Line, often. These were creative, childish ways of keeping my soul intact, and as “cringe” as they ring now, I have to hand it to myself—it did the trick.
But there were still ominous reminders, constantly, that rejection lurked. A bisexual visitor to our youth group was gossiped about mercilessly and never came back. Jennifer Knapp was put through the conservative ringer when she came out. The radio told me gay people were “an encroaching threat.” Incorrigible kids were sent to conversion camps. Altar calls were held for demons of homosexuality to be cast out of those “being tempted.” One of my college friends, an enthusiastic leader and dedicated student, was unceremoniously kicked out of school for being gay. My dorm hall was scandalized when someone’s computer history had lesbian content. Two weeks later, she dropped out of school. No one talked to the openly butch girls at school for fear of being associated and called to the disciplinary office.
When you were young, constant aggression and microaggressions kept your behavior in line, along with a heaping dose of physical and verbal punishment. When you were older, same, but with lasting social and often economic consequences.
Love and acceptance had a ticking clock, and a clearly defined expiration date. It lasted as long as you could grit your teeth and hold out.
(Irony: carousing with your straight boyfriend was mostly fine, provided no one found out about it. In fact, some folks might feel relieved on your behalf: you’re batting for the right team! )
Enter J.K. Rowling. In the midst of this, local churches held book burnings of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. It’s noteworthy that magic was largely forbidden in my childhood, which naturally meant my most purposefully rebellious act was seeing the first Harry Potter movie at the dollar theater. Everyone was obsessed with the books and films, and the college crowd was no exception.
Rowling’s magic broke so many rules. You could be different! Somewhere, there were people—YOUR PEOPLE, just waiting to do marvelous, glorious acts of daring and creativity that you didn’t have to suppress. Fight Voldemort, defend the muggles, insert yourself in between the lines, and find safety within the thick, dreamy walls of Hogwarts.
In my early twenties, I worked up the courage to divorce myself from fundamental extremism and became outspoken about it, knowing darned well it would mean losing many relationships. (I did.) Bowls of ice cream and HP movies saw me through.
In my mid-twenties, I came out to my trusted community as bisexual, and then pan. I questioned out loud gender roles and how itchy they made me feel, and felt my soul chafe at polarized gender identities within the pagan community. (The word TERF wasn’t on my grid yet.) I threw HP themed Halloween parties for my then-tiny children, and told them they could be anything they wanted: Don’t let the muggles grind you down.
I lost friends when I came out.
In 2007, Dumbledore was GAY, and we all congratulated ourselves for having inferred the correct subtext: Hogwarts was a safe place for queer folk.
I used HP as a comforting, familiar escape when dysmorphia and an unnamed frustration with my own body and presentation kept rearing its head. It was a substitute and haven from the urge to burn my skin, starve myself, rage at the mirror, and roar over the indignity of feeling dishonored.
As I devoured books and articles on social justice, history, culture, gender theory, racism, religion, deconstructing toxic worldviews, and healing psychology, the familiar HP books were often the only fiction my exhausted, stretched-out brain could process.
When I hit thirty, I fell into a deep and frustrating depression, and I began to write as a healing/coping exercise. Lots of my friends began coming out. A found-family (if often long-distance) started to form. I began to recognize signs that one of my children wasn’t cis. My sibling came out to my parents with me in the room, and it went exactly as expected: you are loved, but you are less to us. That’s…a very tame version (shared with permission.)
A friend I’d always felt kinsmanship with came out as non-binary, and my head struggled to process pronoun changes. Partly, because I wanted desperately to ask for that for myself, and doubted anyone would honor it. And the prospect of another round of rejection? It seemed worse than dysphoria. Internalized ideas that I was damaged—that I would cause damage, that my want to self-express was damaging—dogged my heart and mind for several years.
I made friends who were unabashedly accepting and self-expressing. I began to express my truths “I don’t identify strongly as ‘man’ or ‘woman’, honestly” very bluntly, and lost ties with my extended family, eventually my own parents. My found family and I bonded, mourned, tattooed, analyzed, and processed through the canon of Harry Potter. (Among other books, of course.) It gave us a common room. It was our accepting Burrow. And even though we were adults, many of us with children, the Potterverse was a reparative form of play and healing nostalgia.
Donald Trump won the election. In an act of furious grief, like so many people at the time, I shaved my head. And, as a happy accident, I started to recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror. Meanwhile, JK Rowling was trashing the Trump administration on Twitter.
There were more protests at a local level (I lived in TN at the time) than there ever had been, and lots of signs had HP and muggle themes. We marched together.
The winter I started editing CATTYWAMPUS, I listened to all the HP books on audiobook in an endless loop. My kid was harassed at school. Potter-themed Halloween parties with our local queers and heathens were a touchpoint and a balm for my entire family.
A friend and I started a magic-themed kidlit podcast, Raising Hermione, unpacking the problems of white feminism, our culpability as white folks socialized as women, weaponized tears, making space for girls to live their truth…and problems within HP’s own limited worldview.
But still. It was a safe-feeling lens. This highlights my own white-perspective error: It’s one thing to see someone else burned by goofy rep. It’s another thing entirely to be the one getting zinged.
And then, JK started liking TERF-themed tweets. It was a gut-punch.
This year, in the midst of a pandemic, Trump attacking trans health rights, a national outcry about police brutality against Black folks, and global job crisis, the thing Mama Rowling decided to use her platform for was: an essay-long message about how trans and nonbinary folks are confused, harmful, damaging, and, in a word, wrong. The timing was awful: I’d dropped my guard, and it felt like a blow to the chest (even though I saw it coming.) Helping my kid process it added another layer of heaviness to an already-heavy year.
And a beautiful thing happened. My community and found-family immediately kicked the TERF out of The Burrow. We realized that our parties and tables and conversations and podcasts and soul-searching had never been JK’s doing to begin with: we who had already experienced a thousand rejections in the world had built a community based on trying to listen, trying to accept, trying to hold space, trying to honor the deep magic in one another. Of course. We’d read queerness into JK’s narratives as a rallying point, but it had always been us, speaking truth to ourselves, within that framework.
She can’t kick us out of magic; it was never hers to own or keep. We were always writing our own beautiful stories between the lines.
Magic has always been about the subversion of ‘normal’ expectations, overthrowing oppressive rules and systems in need of reform, and the dedication to healing the whole self at the risk of being burned at the stake for it. Hogwarts doesn’t own magic. It never started there. Marginalized people have always created our own magic, and we’ll continue to do so. We’ll write until no one lives in a closet under the stairs with the fear of neglect and rejection.
And the way we make sure we don’t repeat the mistakes of our aggressors is by continuing to believe that no one single person or people group owns “magic”. We listen. We listen more. We center Black voices. We center Indigenous voices. We listen to Black trans women. We respect that there are many experiences within a single identity. We refuse to sacrifice one child’s safety for the sake of soothing our own anxieties and hidden prejudices.
We’ll make mistakes, and hope the next generation who reads our work feels loved enough to question us, too. <3
Ballast Books has graciously agreed to team up for CATTYWAMPUS’ pre-order campaign! ALL copies pre-ordered through their store will be signed with a brief note from me, and the first thirty pre-orders will include one special vinyl swag sticker designed by my talented buddy Sarah, just for my readers!
Read MoreHey witches, werewolves, and plant obsessed daydreamers! I hope you’re well, and finding your way safely through this tough spring!
At the prompting of a friend (Hi, Julie! :waves:) I’ve searched my extremely “lived-in” house high and low for my remaining five brain cells, and with their power combined, they’re composing an update!
I’m so excited to announce that I have a ghost story, A TOUCH OF RUCKUS, coming in autumn of 2021 , just in time for Halloween! Here’s the summary: “A peacemaking girl burdened by her prideful family's secrets finds solace in ghost hunting with her non-binary crush inside a nearby forest. But when the ghosts reveal that the forest's existence is threatened, she must find the link between how they died and her own family's secrets.”
Writing it has been special for so many reasons: I adore spooky things, cozy mountain autumns, the woods, and stories about old and new relationships and how they shape us.
Also, A TOUCH OF RUCKUS has a non-binary, or enby (Non-binary = NB = enby, get it? Cool, huh?) character, whose experience of gender identification is very similar to my own! Both characters are strong, kind, and brave, each in their own way, and I can’t wait for you to meet them. <3
You can add it to Goodreads here! Watch for cover reveal and more news in coming months!
I’m extremely honored and humbled to be chosen as one of five ABA’s Indies Introduce Summer/Fall 2020 Middle Grade debuts list! Independent bookstores are so vital to promoting diverse and fantastic books across the country (my own local booksellers are my go-to people for chatting and recommending great titles based on my current bookish needs!), so it was deeply touching to know Cattywampus captured their imagination and hearts.
A very heartfelt thanks to Chelsea Bauer at Union Ave Books in Knoxville, and to everyone else for their thoughtful, exciting blurbs!!
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Cattywampus, Ash Van Otterloo
“Cattywampus has everything: friendship, enemies, a very charming raccoon, magic, ancient family feuds, and zombies. Set in Appalachia, this is the story of Delpha and Katybird, two girls coming of age in very different situations. Funny, smart, and inclusive, the only way to describe this book is as a good ole’ southern yarn!”
-Chelsea Bauer, Union Avenue Books (Knoxville, TN)
“This is a really funny story about two budding witches from rival Appalachian families who accidentally bring their feuding ancestors back from the dead. But as they rush to send their witch relations back to rest, they discover they have a lot more in common than they thought. This is a great friendship story and I love that it includes an intersex character.”
-Lauren Nopenz Fairley, Curious Iguana (Frederick, MD)
“Two young girls are becoming witches in rival witching families. Delpha McGill and Katybird Hearn are learning forbidden magic when they accidentally awaken a graveyard full of zombies, who all rampage throughout Howlers Hollow, their ancestral home. Now, Delpha and Katybird must combine their inherited and personal magic together to reverse their hex spell. Will their new magic mix be in time and will their powers be enough to save their homes and families? To find out, read this fun, folksy, fantastic, and fable-like debut about friendship against all odds and the power of even the most unlikely connections.”
-Drew Durham, Books Inc. Palo Alto (Palo Alto, CA)
If your family is anything like me, life has probably become a weird balancing act between work, school, and not going catching cabin fever for the last several months! It’s been a tricky and tough (and sad/scary!) time for so many people. In case you’re the sort of person who manages their anxious feelings with pictures of plants, projects, and sunshine, I thought I’d share mine with you, as a small “I love you, and I hope you smile sometime today!”
A giant patch of dead nettle near my house…they’re “weeds,” but they’re PRETTY weeds. I love their green-to-deep-purple gradient! They’re related to stinging nettles (and you can often find stinging nettles near them, since they like the same environment), but these guys are harmless. :)
![The art wall that’s been growing at my house during quarantine! Only one of these drawings (a raccoon fella) is mine—the other creations are the folks I live with. <3 It makes me smile every time I pass it to grab another cup of coffee. [Photo: various drawings and paintings, including Bob’s Burgers/Adventure Zone/Steven Universe/Raven Cycle fanart, Breath of the Wild landscapes, and felt flowers]](images/IMG_20200512_113931_zemsqpxt826ai3c20730t8.jpg)
The art wall that’s been growing at my house during quarantine! Only one of these drawings (a raccoon fella) is mine—the other creations are the folks I live with. <3 It makes me smile every time I pass it to grab another cup of coffee. [Photo: various drawings and paintings, including Bob’s Burgers/Adventure Zone/Steven Universe/Raven Cycle fanart, Breath of the Wild landscapes, and felt flowers]
![Doing a little arc welding! We had some spare bits and bobs around from old box springs/etc, so I welded them together to make a base for a movable cinder block firepit for our back yard. Arc welding is a lot like coloring or hot gluing, but with FIRE! (Don’t try it alone without supervision ;) ) [Photo: the author smiling dorkily with an arc welding hat and gloves on, holding a mug with a unicorn on it]](images/IMG_20200503_192822_d02qpgncduhx8msc7jviw8.jpg)
Doing a little arc welding! We had some spare bits and bobs around from old box springs/etc, so I welded them together to make a base for a movable cinder block firepit for our back yard. Arc welding is a lot like coloring or hot gluing, but with FIRE! (Don’t try it alone without supervision ;) ) [Photo: the author smiling dorkily with an arc welding hat and gloves on, holding a mug with a unicorn on it]
![COOL, right?? The trick is to keep your hand steady, and keep the weld stick the right distance away from the metal so you don’t accidentally melt it into a pile of useless goop! [Photo: arc welding a metal frame]](images/image-asset_zf7n3z2evtrg6v2hry3qa7.jpg)
COOL, right?? The trick is to keep your hand steady, and keep the weld stick the right distance away from the metal so you don’t accidentally melt it into a pile of useless goop! [Photo: arc welding a metal frame]
![A very smol, stickyboi [Photo: brown garden slug with flowering weeds in background]](images/IMG_20200424_174015_z02ibiavdwoicjhzenv0mu.jpg)
A very smol, stickyboi [Photo: brown garden slug with flowering weeds in background]
![My dear friend Heather sent me her pattern for a nice face mask—too help keep me from breathing on the people around me!—which I used with some leftover fabric to make a new face mask. I feel kind of like Westley from Princess Bride when I wear it, which is an added bonus. Take THAT, virus particles! I’m a community protector AND dashing-looking! When we can put them away (or when we wear holes in them, whichever comes first), my sibling plans to turn all our masks into a nice hiking picnic quilt. [Photo: sewing table with mask pattern and mermaid print fabric]](images/IMG_20200426_125726-(1)_si7qdguceggbrbny8smzfv.jpg)
My dear friend Heather sent me her pattern for a nice face mask—too help keep me from breathing on the people around me!—which I used with some leftover fabric to make a new face mask. I feel kind of like Westley from Princess Bride when I wear it, which is an added bonus. Take THAT, virus particles! I’m a community protector AND dashing-looking! When we can put them away (or when we wear holes in them, whichever comes first), my sibling plans to turn all our masks into a nice hiking picnic quilt. [Photo: sewing table with mask pattern and mermaid print fabric]
![I can’t say how many comfort pans of buttermilk cornbread I’ve made in the past little bit, but the number is in the “a LOT” range [Photo: yellow cornbread in cast iron skillet next to black eyed peas and rice with pot liquor]](images/IMG_20200406_213928_v0xwrbvmzicec2gauofbef.jpg)
I can’t say how many comfort pans of buttermilk cornbread I’ve made in the past little bit, but the number is in the “a LOT” range [Photo: yellow cornbread in cast iron skillet next to black eyed peas and rice with pot liquor]
![Sophie Hatter is growing SO MUCH, and is still curious and gentle! She and the dog/cats are spoiled and happy right now, from all the attention they’re getting. [Photo: cute, small wild type ball python wrapped around kid’s shoulder]](images/IMG_20200425_142243_tipgp4ahtoxnqdi0f03jac.jpg)
Sophie Hatter is growing SO MUCH, and is still curious and gentle! She and the dog/cats are spoiled and happy right now, from all the attention they’re getting. [Photo: cute, small wild type ball python wrapped around kid’s shoulder]
![While we’re really missing the friends and family we used to play games with, Telestrations and DnD have become a way of LIFE lately. [Photo: pictionary-style game answer that reads “Seagull brings sacricice of lemon to angel mermaid goddess”]](images/IMG_20200428_223614_h4ikbro50yb4r6rjr263me.jpg)
While we’re really missing the friends and family we used to play games with, Telestrations and DnD have become a way of LIFE lately. [Photo: pictionary-style game answer that reads “Seagull brings sacricice of lemon to angel mermaid goddess”]
![Pajamas my spouse got me for my birthday! [Pic: author making a silly face while wearing ‘Scary Stories to tell in the Dark” print pajamas’]](images/image-asset_xs58nbp5d87qifnhuipjpg.jpg)
Pajamas my spouse got me for my birthday! [Pic: author making a silly face while wearing ‘Scary Stories to tell in the Dark” print pajamas’]
![A sneak peak at part of some pre-order giveaway swag for CATTYWAMPUS that my brilliant, talented friend Duckie.Louise created! Stay tuned for a giveaway announcement soon! [photo: slightly blurred digital artwork of an adorable raccoon chomping a cheesy slice of pizza, and jelly beans surrounding the word ‘Cattywampus’]](images/image-asset_3tucep3dxza3zahfsxpwyb.jpg)
A sneak peak at part of some pre-order giveaway swag for CATTYWAMPUS that my brilliant, talented friend Duckie.Louise created! Stay tuned for a giveaway announcement soon! [photo: slightly blurred digital artwork of an adorable raccoon chomping a cheesy slice of pizza, and jelly beans surrounding the word ‘Cattywampus’]
Parting note:
The virus that’s causing so much stress for all of us is affecting some communities more disproportionately than others, due to long-standing inequality issues. If you’d like to help out, consider giving to places that are doing good work. <3
The are two unshakable truths about writers (and people in general):
It’s Dangerous to Go Alone
We Love Us A Good Personality Type Sorting Tool
So today, as #authorlifemonth celebrates writer friends, I thought it would be fun to present a variety of ways that our personal supportive approach can show up in one another’s lives! Our uniqueness makes the world go ‘round, and each individual strength can buoy and sharpen our creative work when we learn to appreciate the love that’s being sent our way for what it is.
And maybe it’s because it’s February in the PNW and I’m craving my native southern sunshine, but I’m sorting the Writer Types into LIGHT SOURCES.
These types are based on people watching, interactions with my own (dearly beloved) writer circles, and information that I’ve shamelessly yoinked and reinterpreted from other personality typing systems (MBTI, Big Five, Enneagram, D&D alignments, etc. You know. SCIENCE.)
My suspicion that everyone utilizes some of every type, but tends to have one they really shine at.
LET’S GO INTO IT.
Spotlight CPs not only believe in you, but they also won’t stop until everyone else does too. They’re a little extroverted, want to see you succeed, and tend to know how to work a room! The mantra of The Spotlight is: “LOOK AT THE CREATIVE GENIUS MY FRIEND HATH WROUGHT! SEE THEM! APPRECIATE THEIR GLORY!!” And honestly, where would we be without these people? We all love bragging on our CPs, but The Spotlight has it down to an art form. They can help you form connections with other people without missing a beat or breaking a sweat.
How to appreciate Spotlights: Thank them, and remember to return the favor. While you both know you’ll never rock it quite as hard as they do, they tend to notice and appreciate the effort.
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Drafting is weird. You have to go spelunking into unexplored parts of your brain, searching for the perfect plot twists and figuring out where the dead ends are. There be monsters. Never fear: Flashlight CPs have got your back! The Flashlight tends to have a unique combination of qualties: they’re non-judgemental, they give solid feedback in real-time, and they’re down for the gritty exploration of your plot ideas (before the tourist safety rails are added). It’s no wonder that Flashlights tend to make excellent ride-or-die CPs!
How to appreciate Flashlight CPs: Be there for their journey, too, and let them know they’re essential. Every Frodo needs a Samwise!
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Everyone has that one CP friend who can eyeball the problem you’ve been spinning your wheels on for days, and summarize exactly what you’re trying to convey. Laser Pointer CPs tend to conserve their energy, and then, when you need them most, they focus a concentrated beam of problem-solving precisely where it’s needed. To the untrained eye, conserving might look like disinterest or detachment, but showing up for you in a focused moment of problem-solving is the Laser’s way of communicating a deep level of belief in your writing, and care for you as a person! They wouldn’t expend that kind of concentrated effort unless they really admired you!
How to appreciate Laser CPs: trust that their need for space isn’t personal, and be sure to appreciate them in front of others! Given their quiet, pinpoint nature, it’s often easy for their care and skills to go overlooked!
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I’m not gonna lie; I have no idea how Hearth CPs do it. Hearth CPs are warm, welcoming, gracious rallying points for other writers. They eat/live/breathe/sweat/radiate team ethic, start challenges, respond often, build community effortlessly, and are incredibly socially adept. They’re good at connections, helping people find networks, boosting community morale, and communicating with clarity and grace. Their Twitter account isn’t a place to dump thoughts; it’s a living room for others to gather in.
How to Appreciate a Hearth CP: Check in with them quietly from time to time, and see how they’re doing. Remind them they get to be human too!
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Ah, writers. Where would we be without our dark, dramatic feels and dark nights of the soul?
Occasionally, we fall through the rotten, twisting staircases of our imaginations and need an accepting friend to listen without judgement, then toss us a line and fish us out of the basement. Gothic Candelabra CPs take some time to find (you can’t blast new friends with your writing fears full throttle, after all), but once they identify themselves, they can lend a trustworthy ear and offer a hopeful glow of wisdom/objectivity.
How to appreciate Gothic Candelabra CPs: Don’t take them for granted. Remember them when you’re feeling successful and happy, too. Resist the urge to use them as your therapist, and practice healthy communication rather than dumping on them. Don’t ghost them when they’re sad.
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The Firework CP is a brainstorming machine, always playing the “what if” game, planning exciting new events, thinking up perfect merch angles, and spinning 23 plot plates at once. If you’re stuck on ideas, you shan’t be for long! They’re hyper creative, enthusiastic, and planning your next dozen steps on your author journey in their sleep!
How to appreciate the Firework Show CP: Tell them they’re brilliant (they are), remind them to work on finish their WIP (they probably aren’t), and credit their skills when recalling to others what inspired your brilliant projects!
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End of the Tunnel CPs are possibly the most underappreciated (and most important) of all the CP types.
They’re having none of your crappy excuses about why you can’t finish your draft. They DM you and tell you to stop doinking around and go write already. They show up, they’re consistent, they finish things, and, by golly, they’re going to make sure you do, too. They do this because they believe in you, they like you, and they understand that the world could use your valuable stories and perspective. They’re a little bit scary. That’s okay. They need to be.
How to appreciate the End of the Tunnel CP: finish your danged draft already! DO IT! DO IT NOW!!
That wraps it up! Which CP are you? A hybrid of a few of these, or something else entirely?
Remember to love and support your fellow writers, and, for gosh’s sake, go finish your @%@%& WIP!
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[ED, abuse, dysphoria, suicide mentioned briefly]
Compliments do such heavy lifting as multitaskers, I’m surprised my Food Daddy, Alton Brown, hasn’t featured them on Good Eats. And not surprisingly, once you dig into the nature of compliments, they tend to be propelled by the needs of the giver, not the receiver. It broadcasts a LOT about our own filters.
We use them to:
To ease our own social anxiety
To alleviate the fear of the unknown
To put a fine point on our perceptions so life feels safer
To butter people up when we want something (including friendship or intimacy)
To build rapport
To say “I mean you no harm!”
To disarm or gain power in a conversation
As a shortcut around unresolved issues
To express joy over our own surprise or delight
To off-gas relief (“oh, you bought a new dress!” [subtext: Thank God, I was worried you were getting depressed!])
To express our own insecurities and fish for affirmation [“Your hair’s so nice. Mine could NEVER do that.”]
To reinforce our special lens of someone’s nature, especially if we’re intimidated by them [“You’re so tiny. You must be SWEET.”]
And sometimes, to snatch the teeth right out of the mouth of someone else’s agency [“You’re like, really pretty.”]
And anyone in their right mind would stop reading right here, saying, “I give compliments because I want other people to feel good!”
Sure, Jan. Me too. :wink:
Real talk, no shame: We all give compliments because we want to feel more comfortable, even if it just means putting a nervous person at ease so we can relax too. And that makes total sense, given that we’re social creatures, and most of us are afflicted with enough empathy to compel us to soothe a crying child or include the new kid (hopefully). When one of us wins, we all win, and that’s a good thing.
So…here’s where we get into the weeds.
There’s a big difference between complimenting someone’s choices (“I love your bag!”) or self-expression (“Damn, Slick, you’re rocking that new hair!”)…
…and projecting a compliment through several filters of your own baggage and bias about something that person has no control over. Like their shape, color, accent, looks, mannerisms, or body.
(I have a suspicion that writers are particularly inclined to this, as we tend to have scads of empathy, we literally describe things for a “living,” and we love playing gods armpit deep in our own make-believe. You know it’s true. And you fucking love it, you brilliant raging megalomaniacs.)
And while it’s true that we have no power over others’ perceptions of us, we do have power over whether or not we catapult our fantasies about other people across their personal boundaries.
Nice people. Folks with their own rich lives and selves, who are just trying to drink their fifth cup of coffee for the day, minding their own damned business. Folks who may smile politely but spend the rest of the day recovering from a well-intended “kindness.”
This gets especially dicey once you step outside your own cultural sphere and into an event (like a Book Fair or writer’s retreat or a signing) that’s full of people with different experiences, cultures, and worldviews. And since most of us really want the Group to win, the last thing we want is to disrupt someone’s equilibrium or hack away at helpful footbridges.
My hope is to compile a quick reference list here, drawn from my experiences, research, and the experiences of my friends and loved ones.
So, here are some reasons to Not Comment on the Bodies of Others Unless Invited:
It’s Not Your Body.
That’s it. That’s the list.
We all find ways to make peace with the nonexchangeable skinsuits we’re issued at birth. Our bodies carry subtexts of eating disorders, disability, illnesses, racial trauma, body dysmorphia, abuse recovery, infertility, cultural wounds, unresolved grief, and social trauma…while housing joy, bliss, energy, and creativity. These are things you can only understand once you’ve earned a person’s trust, not wheedled your way into it.
A chronically ill person may not want a comment on their weight loss.
A trans person’s skin might crawl at the same gendered compliment that your SIL beams over.
A person with an eating disorder might benefit from your smile over simply being with them.
It’s best to not assume.
Personal anecdote: My whole life, I’ve been slathered with comments about my face, sometimes in bubbling exclamations and sometimes sneered…”Noxema girl” “Disney Princess” “Girly girl” “Anime character” And in my younger years, “1950s Pinup girl” and “Barbie doll.”
Dear reader: I am nonbinary. And unfortunately, since social convention dictates that anyone discouraging such compliments be swamped with even MORE of them (because such protests must surely mean the kindness is working!), the person insisting on the “truth” of their very specific version of me to me usually tends to double down. Despite my saying “I don’t love that take,” or that my clothes weren’t coding feminine, or my lack of makeup, or, or, or. It can be difficult to disabuse someone of their initial read of your body.
These days, it sparks an eye-roll and the decision that it’s probably time to shave my head again. In past years, though, especially in my 20s? Purging, self-harm, suicidal ideation, society anxiety, anger at myself, many tears, and frustration over not feeling at home in my own body or culture. And sometimes caving to the pressure to perform a persona that felt crappy to me.
As much as we love building characters…
You can’t tell a person’s character from their body. Your interpretation of their body may be wildly (painfully) different from their own story and experience. And while we can’t be personally and directly responsible for the feelings of others, if our goal is truly to build (real) understanding and rapport, it would be best to leave people’s interpretation of their own meat suits to themselves. If they decide to, they will share it with you. Or not.
This forces us to do what we do best: Be creative in our communication.
We can take an interest in other people’s life stories, in recognizing their lovely nuance and layers without taking shortcuts, by denying our own anxious need to put a fine point on them too quickly.
We can give genuine feedback and, once we understand the goals others have set for themselves, we can affirm them loudly and often.
From observing people who have developed skills around this, I’ve realized that the fastest way to get to their level is to work on my own anxiety (a definite work in progress). Once my lizard brain is quiet, it makes it easier to observe things I’ve missed, and ask interesting questions and make observations bourne from curiosity rather than fear.
I’ve got a love/hate relationship with Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year. Some years, I find myself listening to choral music, Sufjan Stevens, and Christmas Queens; snuggling my spoiled animals; and actually feeling the warm socks on my feet. I nibble pieces of my BIL’s (surprisingly good, it’s strange magic) fruitcake or nurse hot toddies. Go, hygge!
But other years, I end up antsy and wandering (definitely not trespassing in cow pastures) outside in the cold dark, rolling troubling ish over and over in my mind like it’s a fidget spinner in 2017. Maybe it’s the pressure of an impending brand new year combined with having less daylight to distract myself with. But my gut knows something has to give, and it won’t let me rest until I’ve put a finer point on what’s niggling me. It’s a antsy mental pacing that looks a lot like uncomfortable animals going into labor (literally or metaphorically)…the only way out is through.
It’s not that I blame Solstice. It’s just that I just suspect the prolonged darkness has a way of bringing the truth to light.
And this morning, as I was coughing over the (ill advised) five drops of peppermint extract I put in my coffee, it struck me that Winter Solstice is a lot like Dark Night of the Soul/All is Lost beats in a story plot. Remember in elementary school when kids would get too loud/rowdy in the cafeteria, and someone would turn the lights off? People got quieter, in theory. Darkness slows us down and forces us to focus only on what’s right in front of us (which is, unfortunately, sometimes burnt pizza and lukewarm milk).
In the same way that Winter Solstice requires sitting still with the present, the All Is Lost moment asks the character to face what they’ve been running from since the start of the story: what’s working for them (which they’re denying) and what isn’t (which has now been wrenched from their stubborn grip). Their circumstances have funneled them down their own web of rationalizations to face the monster of truth at its center. They dislike themselves. They don’t believe they’re worthy of support. They have to face their irrational fear of horses. They have to sit with it. There’s no escape.
For the peaceful crones and stew-making Yodas among us, a long night can mean cozy contemplation. To my (deep) chagrin, this a fascinating story make it does not…
But for troubled Main Characters, long nights are claustrophobic and damning and full of despair. The differences between cozy acceptance and wallowing despair aren’t actually circumstantial, though; they’re internal. The difference is surrender vs extinction flare behavior: the wizened character accepts reality for what it is, and the Growth Arc Character goes into that dark night kicking and seething. (What we’re here for)
Humanity’s lizard brains crave stories about people who aren’t handling the truth well. We want people who are going through all seven stages of grief over the death of their terrible pet beliefs, tantrumming and bargaining and trying to wheedle their way around the inevitable. This could be because we’re all secretly a little bit sadistic. But it could also be that we crave low-risk experiences of ourselves (via empathy for the MC) spending honest time with ourselves and coming out the other side (mostly) intact. Books are intentional dreaming.
Stories might be preparation for our own (actual) longest nights, and I doubt it’s a coincidence that stories were/are often told around hearths and campfires and bonfires (or by the light of Netflix), in the darkness.
Happiest of Solstices to ya, book family. May your mugs stay warm and all your darlings be properly tormented and riddled with internal conflict! Blessed be.
** If anyone is also obsessed with choral/world/folk tunes about winter, please enjoy this gift of a playlist.
When I was a kid, I cherished a bootleg copy of Her Majesty the Queen of Angst, Megan Follows, starring in her epic role as Anne of Green Gables.
Ten-year-old me was completely conflicted between idolizing both Anne and Gilbert, so naturally, I watched the tension riddled ridgepole scene over and over until the VHS wore out. Her fierce competitive spirit and desire to prove herself resounded so strongly with me, and even though I knew she would topple off the roof, I always held my breath, hoping (for the sake of our collective pride) that she wouldn’t. I wanted her to triumph. But I needed to see how her dear ones enveloped her in celebration and love when her ambition produced mixed results.
Trying to get started as a writer can feel a lot like that. On the one hand, Diana Barry (your one precious life) is pleading with you to keep your feet in the real world. On the other hand, Josie Pye is clawing at Gilbert’s annoyingly sturdy-looking arm and you’re a tornado of ambitious indignant feelings you don’t understand yet (make of that wordy metaphor what you will.)
Here’s what I learned from my own experiences querying, revising, and in my debut year thus far, which I offer humbly in the hope it lends you a little solace in your journey:
Thing One: Connection is important. Years ago (several attempts before my debut), I briefly entertained the notion of insulating myself and producing a creative work untainted by the influence of others, producing something truly unique.
<crickets>
It’s probably no shock that the results were hilarious and appalling. Someday, I’ll share lines from this groundbreaking work, for our mutual amusement. (Life lesson: There is nothing new under the sun, and our little mortal lives are too short to reinvent the wheel. What humanity does have going for it, though, are shared experiences and cumulative skill wisdom, which are a crime to not take advantage of!)
After this realization, I had to face my root worry: I felt I didn’t have enough time to read. Which meant I had to peel back the assumption that “real” reading meant curling up with a hardback on the couch with a stalwart attention span, during the free time I didn’t have. It was a bad belief onion layer situation, and there were tears.
At that point, I was drowning in small children, cheerio baggies, and diapers. Audiobooks became my lifeline. I listened in the shower, while I did laundry, in the car, and while I battled insomnia. I stopped suffering through novels that didn’t speak to me. And writing suddenly started to flow again, and my own voice germinated from the many.
My second lifeline became small critique groups and mutuals online who were at similar points in their querying journey. It helped immensely to know that other writers that I admired and cherished were struggling with similar issues as me. Some growing pains aren’t unique, and normalizing common struggles continues to help me detach from my pride a bit and gain perspective.
I had precious few schedule cracks to jam writing and reading time into, but when they presented themselves, I learned to notice them and take advantage of them. Eventually, I knocked entire items off my schedule and carved time for them.
Thing Two: I can’t bargain my way into a good manuscript.
So, this is the paradoxical counterbalance to connectivity: if you lean too hard into the writing community, it can take on its own expansive life and eventually edge you out of, well, writing.
Besides the normal pitfalls of comparing one book’s rough draft with others’ final product, I found it could be easy to feel that talking about being a writer was getting me closer to having a novel that might snag an agent’s eye. Ha! , you laugh. I would never! But listen, twenty rejections in, your mind starts playing tricks on you, and superstitious bargaining behavior creeps up on you like a pair of bad underwear. It’s a whole brutal thing.
Remember the first day of middle school? Everyone’s moody and nursing insecurities, and you’re studying the intricate social mores and folkways of your peers like an anxious hawk to figure out how to blend in (in a good way) and stand out (in a good way). It’s an odd hybrid of elementary school (follow the rules!) and high school (individuate!).
Being a new writer is similar. There’s a lot of imitation going on, and a lot of experimentation to see what serves you and doesn’t. A friend on Instagram commissions artwork for their WIP; another person live-tweets their flights to conferences and pitches their book exclusively in person. A late-night panic google produces articles about elevator pitches, hashtag games, newsletters, viral tweets, retreats, writing clubs, merch, making 856 writer acquaintances, vlogs, podcasts, blogs…
And it can all seem like a little much, especially if it all seems necessary. (Fellow writer, you have ALL my empathy. I’ve cried quarts over this very thing.) Eventually, I was incredibly relieved to realize that none of the extras are crucial to writing a novel.
The only non-negotiables are the following:
Honing your craft, implementing good feedback, and (of course) writing.
Maintaining a kind and respectful attitude toward others.
Being willing to try again. And again.
That’s it. Those are the things.
That’s not to say none of the trappings of the writing community are useful! But your book doesn’t need them. Your book needs you. So when you’re considering (perhaps frantically) what to participate in, it’s helpful to get clear on what serves you personally and brings you joy.
Social people might gravitate toward lots of conventions because it gives them energy (which helps them write their book). Or you might be challenging yourself to build some plot conversation chops, and retreats help you practice! Strategically identifying what serves you is like the 8th-grade realization that parting your hair down the middle is never going to work for your enthusiastic cowlicks. (Not that I ever served the world a mangled Posh Spice hair part. :cough:)
Ultimately, our wellbeing is what matters. Which dovetails nicely with:
Thing Three: I need a life beyond writing.
One of my (many) obsessions is cultural lore. And one of my favorite snippets is a 7th-century Irish poem called the ‘Cauldron of Poesy.’ Bear with me; there’s a related point.
There’s a notion that all humans are born with three energy centers, or brewing cauldrons, inside them: the first in the pelvis (upright at birth), the second in the gut (tipped sideways at birth and turned slowly through joy and sorrow), and the third (in the head, upside down at birth and only inverted through wisdom gained from contemplating the contents of the second). The rare people with all three cauldrons firing are supposedly master poets and bubbling with inspiration.
I love this mental picture with every atom of my being. Not only is it totally in line with common wisdom like “All work and no play…”, but it’s basically an invitation or a dare. “So you think you want to tell stories? First, you have to live one.” It reminds me that my baseline worth is as a human being, not a human doing, and that the point of life is living it. Writing can be part of that living, but it’s not the sum total of it.
I get to have relationships that don’t revolve around writing (or propping up my writer's image). I can do things that feed my soul and marrow, that remind me of my own wildness. I can collect and curate ideas and observations and sorrows and devastating blows that serve no purpose at all other than to remind me that I’m participating in the human experience. Not everything has to be a grind. Not everything needs a higher purpose. Living is its own terrible miracle.
Paradoxically, this experiencing also tends to make me a better writer. (Go figure.) It’s almost like the Universe wants us to be healthy and balanced or something. Rude.
![The art wall that’s been growing at my house during quarantine! Only one of these drawings (a raccoon fella) is mine—the other creations are the folks I live with. <3 It makes me smile every time I pass it to grab another cup of coffee. [Photo: various drawings and paintings, including Bob’s Burgers/Adventure Zone/Steven Universe/Raven Cycle fanart, Breath of the Wild landscapes, and felt flowers]](images/IMG_20200512_113931_a4pj6smu2rnhvv57xo623o.jpg)
![Doing a little arc welding! We had some spare bits and bobs around from old box springs/etc, so I welded them together to make a base for a movable cinder block firepit for our back yard. Arc welding is a lot like coloring or hot gluing, but with FIRE! (Don’t try it alone without supervision ;) ) [Photo: the author smiling dorkily with an arc welding hat and gloves on, holding a mug with a unicorn on it]](images/IMG_20200503_192822_h0wcbae0fu37iu0eu34f70.jpg)
![COOL, right?? The trick is to keep your hand steady, and keep the weld stick the right distance away from the metal so you don’t accidentally melt it into a pile of useless goop! [Photo: arc welding a metal frame]](images/image-asset_imfmvttdaynuziejumhvkr.jpg)
![A very smol, stickyboi [Photo: brown garden slug with flowering weeds in background]](images/IMG_20200424_174015_c2va0jq5m6vqq6fq2626fx.jpg)
![My dear friend Heather sent me her pattern for a nice face mask—too help keep me from breathing on the people around me!—which I used with some leftover fabric to make a new face mask. I feel kind of like Westley from Princess Bride when I wear it, which is an added bonus. Take THAT, virus particles! I’m a community protector AND dashing-looking! When we can put them away (or when we wear holes in them, whichever comes first), my sibling plans to turn all our masks into a nice hiking picnic quilt. [Photo: sewing table with mask pattern and mermaid print fabric]](images/IMG_20200426_125726-(1)_vnw0tfh8fon2d2x4frwz0q.jpg)
![I can’t say how many comfort pans of buttermilk cornbread I’ve made in the past little bit, but the number is in the “a LOT” range [Photo: yellow cornbread in cast iron skillet next to black eyed peas and rice with pot liquor]](images/IMG_20200406_213928_vrfunawxe7qfyqw0hu2w2b.jpg)
![Sophie Hatter is growing SO MUCH, and is still curious and gentle! She and the dog/cats are spoiled and happy right now, from all the attention they’re getting. [Photo: cute, small wild type ball python wrapped around kid’s shoulder]](images/IMG_20200425_142243_6ao7yb685vaw3skbh0pofb.jpg)
![While we’re really missing the friends and family we used to play games with, Telestrations and DnD have become a way of LIFE lately. [Photo: pictionary-style game answer that reads “Seagull brings sacricice of lemon to angel mermaid goddess”]](images/IMG_20200428_223614_qsxc3rkebed3arugkvx2f3.jpg)
![Pajamas my spouse got me for my birthday! [Pic: author making a silly face while wearing ‘Scary Stories to tell in the Dark” print pajamas’]](images/image-asset_esjqhqeeyv8z00z2w7spf7.jpg)
![A sneak peak at part of some pre-order giveaway swag for CATTYWAMPUS that my brilliant, talented friend Duckie.Louise created! Stay tuned for a giveaway announcement soon! [photo: slightly blurred digital artwork of an adorable raccoon chomping a cheesy slice of pizza, and jelly beans surrounding the word ‘Cattywampus’]](images/image-asset_px4yv77ygrigkzdt8q6r8n.jpg)
