But I use a spreadsheet. Seriously. It has five categorized tabs and dozens of rows and without it, I would miss all my deadlines, lose all my pitch ideas, and go insane. I updated it this morning. I have filed twelve (12) pieces that haven't been published yet, most of which I expect out in the next month. At least that many again have been assigned to me.
This is not me bragging, I swear. I've been wanting to write this post for a while, and I feel like I've been writing breadcrumbs of it in many recent posts. What I want to say is that being prolific has been primarily a job (and not a very hard one at that), rather than a cotton-candy dream come true, and I don't expect you, friends and readers, to give a damn about every last thing I'm publishing. But I want to say it at length.
Here's the truth: I didn't know, before I started reviewing books, that other writers considered it difficult to review books. I have said this to writers fairly frequently in the past six months, and they always laugh. Sometimes they laugh a lot. But it's true. Reviewing books is simply not difficult for me; I can usually knock out a review in about two hours. Most of the reviews of mine you've read, if you've read any, were accomplished in about that time, with minimal editing. A small percentage took longer or required more time for editors to work on them with me. Another small percentage needed no editing at all.
^ NOT EGO. I'm trying to tell the truth. I didn't know I had an unusual knack for book reviews until several months into this, and even now, I only believe that I have an unusual knack based on evidence, not ego. I thought everybody who liked to read and write could write reviews as well or better than I could with the same amount of effort. It turns out that this is not true, but I still don't really understand; all I do is read, and then narrate and assess what I observed.
This is the nature of a talent, I think: the talented person is pleasantly bewildered about why other people struggle with the task.
The reasons I started regularly writing reviews in the first place:
- It was exciting to get free books in the mail
- It took a lot less time to write reviews than other things
- I hoped to establish a reputation that would lead to more bylines & opportunities
- I hoped to get into publications I couldn't get into with stories or essays
- I believe I have enough experience as a reader to be a helpful critic
Those are in priority order. That is, the free books in the mail was, and still is, my primary motivation for reviewing. (Like most free things, it's a hassle and a blessing all at once.)
If I'm honest, though, it's all spun out of control. In July, eight of my reviews appeared in online and print publications, along with an article about craft books and a Medium piece I couldn't place elsewhere. That's ten bylines, or one every three days. In 2015 I had two bylines in the entire year, or one every 183 days.
It puts me in an odd position to be promoting my writing so frequently, so relentlessly. Here's why:
a) When so many of my words get published, I don't know how to say that one piece is more important to me, more worth my friends' and readers' time, than another. Especially when those pieces regard the writing of other people! You worked hard on your book, and even if my review of your book was just an average effort for me, I don't want you to feel bad. Plus, reviews I don't really care about sometimes end up getting me more attention than reviews I do care about. So I must promote them all equally, just in case.
b) I don't expect that MY friends will want to read my words constantly. It'd be crazy to ask them to read so much just because they like me. The barrage of reviews is more for me, for editors considering my work, and for the writers and publicists of the books I've reviewed, than it is for my friends. You won't hurt my feelings if you don't read me. If I ask about a particular piece, it's because I'm curious about that piece, not because I'm assuming you'll read all my stuff.
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| A review, three essays, two read/feedbacks, and a list of interview questions. I did six of these items between Friday night and Sunday afternoon. |
c) It looks like I'm doing an insane amount of work, when I'm not. I mean, I work almost every day, and sometimes I work like hell for a few days straight (friends followed with interest my weekend to-do list, above), but mostly I don't work that hard. Remember I said earlier that it takes me around two hours to write a review? Let's say that review is for a 300-page book, which let's say it took me six hours to read. Together, that's a day's work. Even if I only spent half the weekdays in a given month reading and reviewing, I'd still be able to review 10 books a month. That's a big number for people who don't read very often or very quickly, but the volume of work (for me) is a lot less than it looks like. It's basically a part-time job.
A part-time job that I've manifested out of absolutely nothing, and that has continued to expand like Tetsuo in the past eight months. And the fruits of that job have to be visible every time I get on social media.
The point is, I'm not a coal miner. This is not one of the hardest jobs out there, not even close. I'm just a fast reader. And I LOVE the work I'm doing. I love it more than I've ever loved a job in my life, except when I volunteered at the library in high school. I'm amazed and grateful that all this has come about, but although I love writing criticism, my real dream is to write books. I don't know if I'm closer to that dream after all this work. I hope so, but I don't have any evidence yet.
In sum: promoting the work is part of the job, but if you're a friend, you don't necessarily have to pay attention to it; much of the credit for my current incessant bylines is owed to luck (the talent I was given to find reviewing easy), and I'm grateful for every bit of it; and my publication record looks like a lot more work than it is.
All that said: if it looks like a frenzy of publication, that assessment is correct. As I've explored in great detail elsewhere, part-time work is basically all I'm capable of without melting down, so I'm almost at capacity. My career as a reviewer has a momentum of its own now, and I'm proud of that, but I feel a little like a cartoon character stuck to a rock that's rolling down a hill. The pile of ARCs for read and review is piled accusingly next to me as I write this. About half of them are assignments. I feel certain I can get to them all, and that I might even strike gold with placement for some of them. But after the sheer relentlessness of the bylines and deadlines in July, the pile just looks like a lot of trouble.
All I'm doing is keeping up. I'm never finished. Which is great, because it means my work is getting noticed as being worth something. But it's also stressful and tiring. And lovely. And hard. And exhilarating. And scary. And fulfilling. And so forth.
Out in the world (oh, the irony):
I reviewed Sketchtasy, a book very far from my own life experiences, for Gertrude Press. I'm looking forward to doing more for Gertrude because it is badass. The book, too, by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore, is badass. Fans of Girl who have grown up may like it.
I reviewed irradiated cities by Mariko Nagai, which won Les Figues Press's NOS contest for 2015, for the Los Angeles Review. I strongly recommend this book. It's beautiful and hard and fascinating.
I reviewed Echoes of Understorey by Thoraiya Dyer for Locus. I admit I did not love this book, but I admired it a lot.
I interviewed Brad Listi, a well-known figure in the indie lit scene, for my Entropy series. He was extremely polite and clever. People have enjoyed this interview more than average.
I got tired of pitching an article about my New Retail experience with eye gel, so I posted it on Medium. Shortly thereafter, Medium contacted me to say they'd like to feature the article and put it behind a paywall. So any views you give it will (I think?) give me a little bit of money.
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