Realities and the Rearview Mirror

Two realities about book writing and publishing have been on my mind lately: (1) There’s a first book in everyone, but a second one in a very few; and (2) 98% of all books published don’t sell 200 copies.

So to celebrate this Friday’s release of my first novel, The Precariousness of Done, which, if reality is truth, will be my only book and sell miserably, I’m going to pull back the curtain on myself, my writing, etc., and fully answer a few questions posed to me last fall by my publisher.

Self-promotion does not come easily to me, nor does talking about myself, but I stepped outside my comfort zone the moment I sent out that first round of query letters–all of which went unanswered. My comfort zone is now far in the rearview mirror, and book number two and the elusive 2% may actually lie ahead of me, so I’m going to keep my eyes on the road and get back to writing. I hope you find something entertaining, informative, or useful in the following interview:

1. What was it about the Spanish language that drew you in? What is it about Spain (and specifically Spanish culture) that interests you?

Life and the world are larger than what fits in the palm of your hand, and what took me to Spain for the first time (during high school) was the desire to experience what was beyond the reach of my fingers. What has kept me going back to Spain during the thirty years since high school are the sound of Castilian Spanish to my ears, the tastes and smells of Spanish food and drink, and the firmness of the embraces of the Spanish friends I have made over the years.

2. How does being fluent in Spanish change your writing? How does it affect you and your view of the world? (You can speak about how knowing a second language in general affects these things.)

Studying a second language makes you more proficient at your first one, increases your vocabulary, and opens your eyes to the world beyond your borders. Stereotypes are eroded or destroyed altogether. Every Spaniard isn’t a bullfighter. Spanish and Mexican cultures are distinct; the word taco in Spain means “cussword.” The translations of other Spanish words and phrases enhance my writing and provide a richer and fuller cultural experience for my readers: There’s nothing wrong with using the American expression “when pigs fly,” but in Spain an unlikely event happens “when frogs grow fur.”

3. What is your writing routine like?

I am an obsessive-compulsive night owl whose creativity waxes as daylight wanes. I rarely write during the day, but use that time instead for research and brainstorming. I also edit as I write, and most—if not all—of the sentences in my upcoming novel were rewritten in excess of one hundred times before anyone else set eyes on my manuscript. That comment brings me to this one: Don’t fall in love with a sentence, and never ever marry one. Cast aside any and everything that isn’t working and don’t consider the time you spent as “wasted.” Time is never wasted if you learn something along the way. And as someone for whom writing well is exceedingly difficult and unnatural, I must exercise my writing muscles every day. Easier to stay in the groove than get in one.

4. What does writing mean to you? What does it do for you? Can you also answer this question as it pertains to having OCD (In what ways does this make it more challenging or otherwise)?

I began writing twenty years ago, and when I did, I had only one goal in mind: to write something I wanted to read. I never intended to write for anyone else, and I wrote about what I knew, including obsessive-compulsive disorder (from which I have suffered my entire life) and the Spanish language (having lived in Spain after graduating from high school). My first novel grew out of a personal challenge to see if I could write something someone else wanted to read. Having achieved that goal (fingers crossed), what keeps me motivated is trying to repeat my success while growing as a writer. Speaking honestly, I marvel at those writers for whom writing is easy. For me, it’s often a tedious, soul-sucking process that leaves me riddled with self-doubt. My obsessive-compulsive disorder, which manifests itself in “checking, locking, rattling—generally, being ‘done’ with anything,” further complicates the process and slows my pace. But as is often the case with a disorder, tendency, etc., there are significant “positives” that come with having OCD, especially as a writer: attention to large and small details in storytelling, manuscripts with clean grammar and punctuation, and the essential need to read a sentence or paragraph for clarity’s sake just one more time.

5. What is something you want people to know about the Spanish language and/or culture?

Spaniards are addicted to tradition.

Generally, native speakers of European Spanish and Latin American Spanish understand each other, but the many Spanish dialects and accents and the pace of conversational speech can present significant challenges for even advanced learners.

In Spain, it’s not unusual for grown children—even 30-year-olds— to still be living at home.

6. Do you have any advice for aspiring authors?

If writing is your hobby or emotional therapy, beware of turning your avocation into your vocation.

Hire a professional editor. And if you’re pleasantly or smugly surprised by the small number of edits he or she suggests, consider hiring a different editor.

Be genuine, emotional, and fearless. Draw from your personal experiences, changing the names of persons and places as necessary. If the folks in your life are offended, they can write their own books.

The publishing world owes you nothing, and your manuscript, whether solicited or unsolicited, is only your baby. Agents and publishers are overwhelmed by the heaps of manuscripts they receive (on a daily/weekly/monthly basis), and they are often looking for any reason to reject you. Don’t submit anything (even a query) until its perfect.

Book publishing is a business, and a book, much like a new burger at McDonald’s, is a product created and submitted for public consumption. No matter how brilliant or creative or famous the chef is, there’s no guarantee that the consumer will eat the sandwich.

I find several world-beating authors to be nearly unreadable, including Hemingway and Kerouac. Fight the urge or need to be someone else. Find your own voice.

The Toxic Parent Quiz

(Warning: Brutal Honesty Ahead)

I have severe obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD): things-must-be-placed-“correctly” OCD, “Don’t touch that!” OCD, I-rarely-leave-the-house OCD, I-rattle-doorknobs OCD, and I-often-despise-myself OCD. But I did not kidnap the Lindbergh baby, I did not shoot JFK, I did not vote for Trump, and I did not ruin the Star Wars franchise by making The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi.

In other words, don’t lay the bad things that happen in this going-to-hell-in-a-handbasket world at the feet of my mental disorder. And don’t blame me for your baggage, your issues, your mistakes, and your miserable life. Yes, certain family member, I’m talking to you.

Newsflash: If you want to see the person who makes my wife cry, scream, and curse after she hangs up the phone because you have bullied her into silence and frightened her into pretending everything is fine, take a hard look in the mirror. Take an even harder look in that mirror if you want to see the person who my wife has had to parent since she was just your little girl. Go ahead and tell her again that she should have married someone else, that I was the reason she didn’t visit you when our son was a baby, and that your relationship is a mess because of me. Borrowing a quote about you from my wife, I say, “You’re batshit crazy.”

Another newsflash: Of the 100 times she’s called you, 99 of them were because I, holding the cordless handset, asked her if she should call you. And if you think her visits to see you were her idea, think again.

Ironic, isn’t it?

And that irony begs at least two questions: Why did I encourage my wife to stay in touch with you? and Are you a toxic parent?

The first question is easy to answer and a poor reflection on my ignorance of the nitty-gritty of my wife’s childhood. I wasted so much time projecting my feelings about my relationships with my own, divorced parents onto my wife’s “relationship” with you. Even though I’m grown, I still need my parents in my life . . . in different ways than when I was little, but I miss them terribly, living far away from each of them as I do. I had a hard time believing that my wife has wanted little, if anything, to do with you since before I met her. So I nudged and hinted, but it has been painfully obvious for several years now that my wife’s old scars are still very painful and that you are hell-bent on injecting guilt and heartbreak into her life as you make everything about you. So, I’m not going to hand my beautiful lady the phone any more or encourage her to visit you. That batshit is over.

Answering the second question requires help from Holly Chavez, a freelance writer, journalist, entrepreneur, and woman I have never met. In her article, “13 Signs Of A Toxic Parent That Many People Don’t Realize,” which is available here, she presents 13 situations. I re-formed those situations into a quiz, which my wife took regarding your behavior. After answering yes to 12 of the 13 questions, her conclusion was clear: You are a toxic parent.

For the readers of this post who would like to take my Toxic Parent Quiz, whether about themselves, their parents, or others who touch their lives, here it is:

(Substitute the pronoun “she” to fit the particular situation.)

Does she provide you with affirmation and security?
Is she overly critical?
Does she demand your attention?
Does she make toxic “jokes” about you?
Does she cause you to justify terrible behavior?
Does she not allow you to express negative emotions?
Does she scare even you, her adult child?
Does she always put her feelings first?
Does she co-opt your goals?
Does she use money and guilt to control you?
Does she give you the silent treatment?
Does she ignore healthy boundaries?
Does she make you responsible for her happiness?

For explanations of the 13 situations, as well as suggestions on how to manage toxic persons, click over to Holly Chavez’s article, “13 Signs Of A Toxic Parent That Many People Don’t Realize.” (Source: http://www.lifehack.org/350678/13-signs-toxic-parent-that-many-people-dont-realize)

Of course, no parent is perfect. No child is perfect. And none of us is entitled to perfection when it comes to family. But imperfection is not toxicity, and at some point it’s ridiculously unhealthy, emotionally speaking, not to distance yourself from that toxic someone or to remove him or her from your life. Easier said than done, I know, but you must try.

I have no doubt that if my mother-in-law created some sort of Loving Daughter or Son-in-law Quiz, my wife and I would fail it with flying colors. We’re both okay with that. What we’re not okay with is the 92.3% (12/13 X 100) chance of regretting answering the phone. At least for now, there’s a 0% chance of that.

Ain’t call blocking great?

Continue reading

The Dreaded First Edit: Part 1

On January 27, 2017, I entered into an “Agreement Between Publisher and Author . . . Whereas the Parties are desirous respectively of publishing a work provisionally entitled The Precariousness of Done (the “Work”), which title may be changed only by mutual consent.”

The agreement is 24 pages long.

Page 24 contains a “TENTATIVE PUBLISHING SCHEDULE,” which “depends on the extent of editorial revisions/corrections, and publisher’s, author’s and printer’s schedules. The following dates are based on a publishing agreement finalized by February 5, 2017:

First Edited Proof: March/April 2017
Final Edited Proof: March/April 2017
1st Interior Design Proof: April/May 2017
Final Interior Design Proof: May/June 2017
First Cover Versions: June/July 2017
Final Cover Proof: June/July 2017
Book to Press: July/August 2017
Printer’s Proofs: July/August 2017
Books Shipped: July/August 2017
Limited Release: July/August 2017
Public Release: Fall 2017

(Limited release is the date copies of your book are available to you, as well as available for preorder from [name omitted], amazon.com and bn.com. Public release is the date your book ships and is available for order from brick and mortar chain stores. Public release is generally scheduled two to three months after copies are received because it takes a number of weeks for your book to be reviewed by Barnes and Noble and other buyers, and additional time for your book to appear in buyer databases.)”

The first task to be completed on that tentative schedule began simply, with this email from my publisher:

“March 23, 2017

Dear Tony:

I am attaching the 1st EDITED PROOF of Precariousness for your review. We have edited the manuscript for grammar, mechanics, usage, and general content. We have used Microsoft Word Track Changes feature for this edit. In case you are unfamiliar with this feature, I have attached instructions on how to use it. Please note that we have not included the “clean” file mentioned in the instructions, but I’ll be happy to send one if you prefer. Some authors who aren’t familiar with tracking find the clean file easier to work with. Just let me know.

It is important that you read the instructions about the Track Changes feature before you begin responding to the edit.

Do not be concerned with spacing between paragraphs or other formatting elements at this stage. We will address formatting, indentation, margins, and other design elements at the design stage.

SPECIAL NOTES: None at this time.

IT IS CRITICAL that you work with the attached file in Microsoft Word, not with your original manuscript file or any other file. If you work with a previous or another file, we will have to edit the manuscript from scratch, and there may be delays and more production costs.

When your review is complete, please email the proof to me at your earliest convenience. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to call me at [phone number omitted]. Thank you!

Very truly yours,

[name omitted].”

When I opened the attached file, simple flew out the window and then straight to hell: Microsoft Word Track Changes feature is a visual nightmare for this severe obsessive-compulsive author–changing, checking, rechecking, re-rechecking. Accepting or rejecting my editor’s changes are another matter, for another post.

The instructions about the Track Changes feature got me started; the suggestions from those who have used it–thank you Adam and Noah–let me chew through the edit and make peace with it. An uneasy truce: other proofs (scary, final ones) will be coming.

If you’re a writer who is starting the process I am well into, and you need help, please don’t hesitate to contact me.

If you’re an obsessive-compulsive who is struggling every day as I am, I’m here for you, too.

Welcome to the blog of Tony Houck…

…and I thank you for visiting. Stay a while. Browse. Read. Smile. Scratch your head or shake it. Comment. Follow.

I’m introverted and hesitant to ramble or waste your time.

In that spirit, let me quickly explain that unsalted gems is a term used at family-friendly gem mines, that I suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder, that I am addicted to the language and culture of Spain, and that the purpose of this blog is to inform and entertain my readers. To them, I extend a sincere invitation to provide feedback and share their stories.

My Story, which further discusses unsalted gems, OCD, etc., is available for those who wish to read it. I leave that decision up to you.

As an obsessive-compulsive who is embarrassed by his disorder, and not a person who gravitates toward self-aggrandizing tendencies, I’ve had to step outside my comfort zone for my first post. Although it’s an excerpt from my unpublished novel, which is not a memoir, the passage is short on meism but long on insight into the world of an obsessive-compulsive. OCD manifests itself in different ways, of course, but what follows is a place to start….

 

CHAPTER SIX

07:43 h

      A bottled gas delivery truck clanged past the open window, but Thomas was already awake. Staring at the clock he had watched throughout the night, he sat hunched on the side of the bed, his forearm resting on the nightstand. He dared not move the travel alarm, so he pinched it lightly between his index finger and thumbnail, which quivered over a small button split into half-moons marked ALARM and SET.

07:45 h

      Thomas took a shallow breath, held it, and pressed the button before the alarm could ring for the fifth time. Five would have been bad: It wasn’t one of his numbers. After letting the echo fade, he pressed the button again and then stared at the display, holding his breath again. “It’s there,” he whispered.
      “It” was a little bell above the colon that indicated the alarm was turned on. A lingering touch—he had a proclivity for lingering touches—could have turned it off altogether, but his nail had been quick. He exhaled. The alarm was ready for tomorrow morning, and it was important that it was…irrationally important, anxiety-provokingly important. He lifted his elbow off the nightstand and sat back. “It’s done.”
      But no amount of physical distance could have taken his mind off that bell or prevented his daily battle with “it,” as even a master of self-control is helpless against spasmodic contractions of the diaphragm. He leaned forward. “It’s there.”
      It was there. He clearly saw it and the speck of dust on it, but couldn’t take his eyes off it. He tried to lean back. “It’s done…It’s there— It isn’t.” He sighed and checked it again. The thoughts became reflexes.
      “I see it…It’s right there.” He leaned back, but before his spine could straighten, he threw himself forward. “Damn. Last time,” he promised emptily with all his heart and rechecked it.
      In the distance a driver laid on the horn, but Thomas was already beyond the tipping point again. “Not there. Damn it, shit, hell. Last time, I promise.” He re-rechecked it, but was soon lost in the bell once again.
      “It’s there— No, I see it. Fight it. It’s not, check it later…I might forget. Last time, I promise.” He re-rechecked it again, raised his eyes to heaven, and then smacked himself on the head. At that moment, he wasn’t sure whom he hated more. “Guaranteed done, no matter what. I promise.”
      There was no way in hell he was done.
      “You’re not getting anything else from me— I promise just one last time.” He checked it, but he wasn’t really seeing at it anymore. Something similar to the difference between hearing and listening.

07:47 h

      “It’s there, it’s there, it’s there, it’s there,” Thomas insisted, desperate for the relief that often came with repetition in fours. He could have afforded to change his ticket if he had 1 € (about $1.30) for each time he’d repeated something four times in September alone.
      He had other “lucky” numbers of course, but in eights, fifteens, seventeens, twenty-twos, thirty-ones, thirty-sevens, fifty-ones, fifty-sevens, and seventy-sevens things took quite a while longer, and he had to get going. No, four usually did the trick. Besides, the higher numbers were better suited for such things as turning off headlights, wiping down the bathtub, blowing dust off the television, walking across a room, and closing bottles. He could have stayed in Las Rozas forever if he had 1 € for each time he had mashed the refrigerator handle.
      He took several deep breaths, trying to reset the brain that wasn’t getting the message.

      —Why? is a question answered only by theories about the cause of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD).
      Many researchers attribute the disorder to biological abnormalities. Perhaps the neurochemical serotonin can’t transmit its message to neighboring nerve cells because the receptors on those neurons are faulty, resulting in the reuptake of serotonin. Maybe the part of the brain that initiates certain actions lacks a specific protein. Possibly a prior immune response to the streptococcus bacteria produced offending antibodies. These are but three possibilities.
      Advocates of a psychological cause suggest that OCD sufferers repeatedly wash their hands, check locked doors, etc., to relieve anxiety provoked by illogical doubts and fears that intrude into their thought processes, and though the anxiety re-emerges, they associate short-lived relief with the washing, checking, etc., negatively reinforcing those actions. The cycle repeats, encouraging the obsessions and compulsions, although sufferers take no pleasure in them, and the disorder intensifies.
      Whether abnormal biology, psychology, or, more likely, a combination of the two is to blame, the many forms of OCD make it one of the more prevalent mental disorders in the United States, afflicting millions, and many more have never been formally diagnosed.

07:48 h

      Thomas wiped the “pollution” off his finger and wagged the tip of it across the display, playing peekaboo with the bell. “There, not there. There, not there.”
      Muttering stares were often just fists to the chest, but taps and rubs could be like paddles to a fibrillating heart and restore normal rhythm to his dwelling brain; for Thomas, abnormal was normal. The additional stimuli helped curb his anxiety, so he relied heavily on the sense of touch during his private struggles, but in public the behaviors drew embarrassing looks, so he disguised them.
      When tapping and rubbing didn’t provide the necessary relief, the situation worsened still, and he was often forced into momentary, even persistent surrender. But if he was playing beat the clock or if the task was especially difficult, he resorted to more severe behaviors to increase the stimulus. Metal zipper pulls were tugged so hard they bent. Plastic caps were tightened until they bulged at the sides; often they were so tight that he had to open them with pliers. The violent rattling of the side door used to shake and wake the house.
      Thomas was incredibly sorry about breaking the doorknob.

07:49 h

      “It’s there.”
      The next few moments were critical, so Thomas sat breathless, motionless, fearing the unexpected, even the rumble of his stomach.

07:50 h

      On to the bracelet, the shirt tag, the drawstring in the pajama pants, in that order. In that order.
      The day had just begun.
      He was exhausted.