I had planned to write this really exultant post about how literary agent Nathan Bransford helped me to realize what kind of books I’m writing, via his post “Book Club Fiction”:

Around the publishing industry there has long been a hankering for a certain type of book that is both literary and yet commercial, familiar and yet exotic, well-written but not too dense, accessible but with some depth. They are books that are kind of tough to categorize, because they don’t exactly fit into any one genre. I’d often hear people calling them either literary commercial fiction or commercial literary fiction.

But during my last trip to New York I heard an apt label for this category: book club fiction*. And lots of editors want it.

My first reaction: AWESOME! That’s exactly what I want to achieve with both my writing and my blogging. And I’m not just saying that because Nathan Bransford says that’s what editors are looking for!

But then EVERYONE AND THEIR MOMS said “Thanks, Nathan, you’ve just described my genre!” And suddenly I didn’t feel so original anymore…

Pardon me if I’m a little less than coherent today. It’s the first day this week that I haven’t needed allowed myself to nap. Don’t get me wrong, naps are great, but should a twenty-two year old really need to nap at 9:30 am, just two hours after she’s woken up? I think not.

In fact, I’m a little worried about how tired Andy and I have been, particularly in the mornings. I was never this way before, except for a few nights in college when I’d procrastinated studying for a big exam or writing a paper until the night before. But now we’re like zombies in the morning, hitting snooze at least twice before we finally get up to stumble around our bedroom. It’s gotten worse in the past couple weeks, but if I’m being honest, it’s been a problem for the past few months. We tried opening our blinds to let in more natural light, and that helped a bit during summer, but with fall here and winter fast approaching, it’s no longer enough. Mostly because light doesn’t come until well after we’ve woken up and I’m taking Riley out on his morning walk.

We get seven to eight hours on a regular basis, both take vitamins — Andy’s better about it than I am, but he’s usually the tireder one — and eat decently well. So what’s the problem?! I honestly don’t know, but it is starting to worry me. We’re going to look at new mattresses this weekend, since we’re currently sleeping on an innerspring mattress that he’s had for over ten years, but there’s no guarantee it’ll help…

Cross your fingers for me?

What really brought me here was not to beg for your good vibes. (But please, please send them.) What brought me here was the realization that I don’t write happy things.

Okay okay, here on the blog, sure, stuff is mostly happy. Because I’m a generally happy person. I think I got most of my angst — and thus most of my angsty blogging — out during my teenage years, and I have since obliterated/privatized/forgotten about those blogs. Of course, I do have most of them backed up on my computer, because hey, sometimes it’s fun to go back and see how BOO HOO EMO you used to be.

But in terms of my fiction writing — you know, the stuff I want to make a living off of? — I rarely ever write happy things. My main characters are usually angry, sad, or both. Someone important to them has died. And no one really laughs, because snorts and sarcastic chuckles don’t count.

WHAT’S UP WITH THAT, YO?

I don’t go into any of my stories thinking, Hmm, how can I make this really, REALLY emo? They just kind of come out that way! I never thought it was a problem — frankly I thought it was because sad things are easier to write than happy ones — but the more I think about it, the more I realize the signs have been there all along.

Sign #1: my mom sitting me down one day during my junior year of high school and asking if I needed to see a psychologist, because my two award-winning stories were about (a) a woman in an abusive relationship who wants to commit suicide, and (b) a girl who makes a pot of coffee for her brother every morning, despite the fact that he’s been dead for years.

HMMMMM…

There’s no real resolution to this issue, other than my looking a little harder, digging a little deeper, and finding that happy place within me that can produce less depressing fiction that still rings true to my voice.

But you tell me: Isn’t it really weird?! Or am I overreacting?

# # #

On a completely unrelated note, OMG CHECK OUT THE SEKSY. Since I can’t afford one right now, I’m making small tweaks to Winnie so that she and I are both happier. Most recently I lowered the Hardware Acceleration in her Display Settings (say what?? I know) because ever since I upgraded to iTunes 8.0 and Firefox 3.0, they mess each other up and I end up with half of Demi Lovato’s album cover in my Gmail window.

Dear Universe,

Please publish me soon so that I can reward myself with a new Macbook laptop. Also so I can stop feeling like a huge failure and waste of life.

THXBYE,
Kristan

As of today, I got JBU up and running, so I now blog here, there, at iluv2read, and potentially at The Dieline.

Folks, this is what happens when you give your daughter her first computer at age two and a half.

In honor of the new month, I created a new masthead, just like I do… every month. :P

I also decided to archive all the previous mastheads, because I like them, and who knows, maybe someone else will too.

This month’s tagline (”let the poverty begin”) is in honor of my new part-time schedule, which starts in two weeks and means I’ll be earning 40% of my current salary (hence POVERTY) but writing a lot, lot more (read: MORE POVERTY). I’m really excited, but scared sh*tless at the same time.

On a related note, I’m sending my short story The Eraser out to a contest today. Wish me luck?

In a recent radio interview, Dooce talks about how a blog must have soul to attract a loyal fan base. Just like with a TV show or book, the writer of a blog must develop characters that readers care about in order to draw the audience back day after day (or week after week, depending on the frequency of the posts).

I think that’s why I realized after just a couple weeks that my blog couldn’t be merely professional. Not only was it unsatisfying for me to write only about writing or reading, but I can’t imagine that those topics would satiate any normal reader for very long. (Whatever “normal” is.)

So that makes me wonder, who are my characters, and what about them is compelling? Of course, I think my friends and family are interesting — that’s why they’re my friends and family! — but do you? Should you? Have I done enough (or anything) to make them interesting?

I think that’s what I need to be more mindful of in the future, both for this blog and for my fiction writing (which features a slightly different kind of “friends and family”). Even if every post or story doesn’t flow as part of some larger linear stream, there needs to be some sort of narrative that holds it all together. There needs to be something that readers can connect to, follow, remember.

I’m not sure that every blogger puts this kind of thought into what they type into their content management system before hitting “Publish.” I know I usually don’t. But I think that’s part of what makes Dooce so successful, and unique.