On Rejection

For those who don’t know, I have been querying The King’s Blade since it was rejected (twice) from Pitch Wars. The querying has been off and on while I struggle with working more hours than my mental health can handle, reviving this blog and my Instagram, working on my new WIP, keeping up with an ever-growing TBR, and trying to function as a human. But over the course of the months, fading into years, that I’ve been querying this manuscript, I’ve racked up 20 rejections. All of them have been form rejections. I have had no requests for additional pages.

The agents who have rejected me have been from large and small agencies. They’ve been agents I would label “dream agents,” and agents I thought would love my book based on their wish lists. They’ve been agents I’ve admired from afar based solely on who they are and how they present themselves, and others who have clients I aspire to be. In short, it feels like the whole of publishing has rejected me. Without a single request for more pages.

To be clear, this has nothing to do with the agents who have rejected me my book. I know it’s dangerous to write about rejection when you’re querying, but I have always tried to be honest here and honestly, writing is my only outlet right now. I don’t feel like I’m part of the writing community. I don’t know how to be relevant and as such, I don’t feel like I have anyone to turn to. I just have this blog, and my journal, and my silent screams lobbed against the bathroom wall.

The twentieth rejection came on my 31st birthday, which just so happened to be last Friday. Even if I wanted to tell you who it was from (which I don’t), I couldn’t. At some point, form rejections seem to feel like little blurs against your heart. They blend into each other, a watercolor of despair. I used to have a policy that to stave off the pain of rejection, as soon as I got one, I’d stop whatever I was doing and hop to sending another query letter to someone else on my list.

At form rejection twenty, I didn’t hop to do anything. In fact, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I lost all sense of time and feeling.

Happy Birthday to me.

It took a few days for the self-degradation to kick in. I was on my way to work Monday morning when it started to creep. Thirty-one-years old, it said, with nothing to show for it. Nothing that society says you should have: no husband, no house, no baby. And nothing that you want: no agent, no book deal, no way into the space you long to occupy. Just two, failed, self-published books in a series you can’t even finish and are likely going to pull, that you went into debt for and which brought you nothing. You have no social media following, you are not welcome in the writing community, no one talks to you on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. You’re not relevant and no one is interested in you or what you’re doing. You’re screaming into an abyss saying, “See me!” It’s pathetic. No one sees you. You’re nothing and no one and that’s what you’ll always be. Nothing and no one. As mediocre now as you always were.

And this is all your fault, because instead of taking what little talent you possessed and running after your dreams, you disappeared into the bottom of a rum bottle. While your peers from UNC pursued PhD’s in English literature and composition and MFA’s at Iowa and found themselves with publishing deals from the Big 5, you perused the liquor aisle, the only question on your mind being, “What will get me the drunkest, the fastest?” What will bring me to oblivion?

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

So it’s no surprise that no one cares when you curl into a ball in the women’s bathroom and sob against the drywall. It’s no surprise when tears drip onto the federal brief you’re working on, splashing your green edits into globs across the page as tiny little whimpers slip from your throat. Somewhere on the outside, you realize you sound like a wounded animal, and you wonder if this is the sound a dream makes when it dies.

No one cares because even though there’s no way they could know, you’re sure they do know this is your fault. That those twenty form rejections were a thing you earned. A thing you deserved. Because you deserve nothing and no one. That is your brand. Nothing and no one.

This is what rejection feels like for me. It is lonely. It is primal. It is ugly. It does not feel like character building, or something I should be grateful for. It does not feel like a story I want to tell, yet here I am, telling it, because it is the only story I currently have to tell. Somewhere, the insidious whispers that could belong to my various mental illnesses, or my upbringing, or the despair that’s curled around rejection, tell me to shut up. They tell me to give up. They tell me that because I am nothing and no one, no one wants to hear me, let alone read me. They tell me that my words make people uncomfortable. They tell me my concept is bad, my pages are bad, my query is bad. It’s time to stop this madness, they say. It’s time to shut up and close up. Time to shelve this dream.

But I can’t shut up. I am a storyteller. I always have been. I probably always will be. And maybe it is my fault that I lost so much time, but building a life on blame is no way to build a life. And quitting… well, that would be my fault, too.

So I guess I won’t. At least not today.

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The Dreaded Bad Review

I’ve been thinking about this post for awhile and have hesitated to write it. The thing is, this is a sensitive topic. It’s sensitive because there’s a line that should exist between authors and reviewers. Reviewers should never feel intimidated or bullied or pressured into giving anything except their honest opinion of a book. As an author, when you ask for an honest review, you should understand that’s what you’re going to get. And it’s not always sunshine and rainbows. Some people aren’t going to like your book. It’s simply the way of things. Welcome to authorhood, you’ve arrived.

That said, I strive to speak openly here about the emotional experience of this whole writing journey, and I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t speak on the extremely emotional experience of receiving a bad review. Before we begin, however, I want to emphasize this isn’t a “sub-blog post” or something of the sort. This isn’t a direct response to any particular bad review I’ve received and “bad” is pretty subjective anyway. I think we can universally acknowledge that a one-star review is bad, but I’ve seen authors who also struggle with four-star reviews. Authors, as a breed, tend to be perfectionists, and anything less than perfect can sting.

Your Book Isn’t Going to be for Everyone

The best thing about art is that it’s completely subjective. The worst thing about art is that it’s completely subjective. Some people are going to be on the same wave length as you. They’re going to “get” your work and love it. Others aren’t. That’s okay. It just means humanity is diverse and beautiful and lovely and we all have different likes and dislikes. It’s what makes us interesting. And messy. And glorious. It’s important to try and keep that in mind when the inevitable bad review comes knocking.

It’s really interesting to me to see the responses I’ve received on The Wheel Mages. Some people think my world building is great, the best part about my writing. Others think it’s confusing. Some people think my style is unique and refreshing. Others think it’s stilted. Some think my characters are well-developed and believable. Some people think they’re one-dimensional and unnatural feeling. Some people think I defy conventions. Others think I play into tropes. If I take a step back and look at it all laid out before me, the differences can be a beautiful thing. They prove what I already knew: that humans are marvelously complex beings with diverse interests and tastes.

Developing a Thick Skin is a Real Thing

So if you’re involved in the writing community at all you’re going to hear that you need a thick skin. I’m sure I’ve said it about a billion times. It’s true. Very, very, very true. This industry is not necessarily the kindest one that ever was. But then again, life doesn’t happen to be particularly kind, at least not 100% of the time. Developing a thick skin is important, but so is simply being able to build yourself boundaries.

For example, some authors don’t read reviews at all. I don’t have enough self control for this, but I’m a new author. Maybe after I’ve been through this half a dozen times I’ll be able to ignore reviews too. For now, I can’t. If you can, awesome. If you can’t (like me), be prepared. Remember to build yourself boundaries. It’s okay to not check every day for new reviews. It’s okay to know you’re in a bad place and couldn’t handle it if you got a bad one. Heck, it’s okay to have someone pre-screen them for you (if you have someone that generous). Taking care of yourself is important. You’re important, and you are more than your words. Just because someone didn’t like your book doesn’t mean they don’t like you (they don’t know you, likely). Even if your main character is a self-insert character and people say they hate her, it’s still not personal. <– This may have been for myself. Regardless, you are more than your words.

Let it Sting

This is the hardest part for me, and it’s the hardest advice to give. Because it does hurt. The first time I received a bad review of my published work (which is infinitely worse than receiving criticism of something you can fix, so unpublished writers, sorry to tell you, it doesn’t get better), I crawled into bed and didn’t emerge for 29 hours. I didn’t cry because that’s not a thing I do much, but I did run my failings as an author over and over in my mind. I felt terrible about so many things: about inflicting this scourge of a book on the rest of humanity; about being insulted on the internet; about potentially hurting someone’s feelings or at the very least wasting their time; about how angry I was and how ungrateful and selfish and stupid and unworthy. I felt like I should never write again. I felt like my voice didn’t matter and then felt selfish and vain for ever thinking it should matter in the first place. What a narcissist I am, thinking someone should care what I have to say. What an arrogant, egocentric asshole I was for then being angry when someone didn’t “get me.” Every nasty thing I could say to myself was said. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t move, I just played this grotesque game with myself. It. was. awful. So telling you to accept that is hard, because I know what it feels like and it’s not pleasant.

What I really wish I could say is for you to just brush it off, mutter to yourself that person doesn’t know what the hell he/she/they is talking about and move on with your life. But I can’t tell you that for several reasons.

First, the reviewer probably does know what he/she/they is talking about. They are reading tons and tons of books, and they know what they like and don’t like. They also probably know a little bit about what a book should have. They know what world building is and pacing and plot and such. A lot of reviewers are writers themselves. That’s part of the reason it hurts so much to receive a bad review. I think for me, most of the sting of a bad review comes from being able to recognize that something in that review was true, at least for that individual, and that hurts because I feel like I’ve failed as a writer. Failure sucks.

Second, reviews can actually help your writing if you’re open to them. Don’t get me wrong, you’re probably not going to be open to them right away. But after the initial sting has worn off, a bad review can help you improve future books, so simply brushing it off isn’t always the wisest approach. This is especially true if the reviewer is in your target audience.

Third, if you’ve been hurt by a review, you’re probably not going to be able to simply move on. Period. You might be able to mask some of the pain (guilty), and if you have to do that for a little, do that. But eventually, you should confront it. Storing pain isn’t a great decision (trust me, I’ve got years of it I’m dealing with).

It’s okay to let it sting, to take a few days off, to recenter yourself. But get back up. It’s like falling off a bicycle (or horse, in my case). Confront the pain, but don’t let fear of falling stop you from doing something you love. You’re going to fall. Again and again and again. Learn to tuck and roll and protect yourself as best you can. When you fall hard, heal, then go right back out. Life is too short to let the voices in your head control you. And at the end of the day, those voices are yours. The review or the reviewer didn’t put them there. You did. Your experience, your self-doubt, your insecurities, those are what did that. Battle them. Valiantly. You deserve no less.

Do Not Engage the Reviewer

Seriously. Don’t do this. It’s an extremely bad look. Especially if you asked for the review. In my view, there is little more distasteful than an author coming for a reviewer. And if your reviewer is a teenager because you write YA or MG or what have you, please remember you are the adult in this situation and act accordingly. You’re a professional. Be professional. No matter how hurt you are.

I know it’s hard. Trust me, there have been reviews I’ve received where I’ve wanted to ask questions. To try and explain myself. To tell the reviewer if they’d just read a little bit more they’d see I was about to twist that trope or that wasn’t quite the way they thought it was or or or… Don’t do it. You had the words to make your point and for that person, you didn’t. There is nothing to discuss and it’s only going to turn out badly for you. There will be other reviewers and other reviews. Some of them will likely laud the very things that particular reviewer didn’t like. It will be confusing and annoying and frustrating. But it’s not your place to make a case or state a claim. And it’s not the place of your friends or fans, either. Of course you can’t control the actions of others, but if someone approaches you asking if they should/could come to your defense, the most professional response is to tell them you’re okay, thank them for their support, but explain it’s unnecessary. It’s part of being an author. This isn’t a courtroom. This is Goodreads.

Build Your Community

This is another biggie you’ll see on refrain in the writing community, and it’s also extremely true. Having a community of other writers to vent to is crucial in this business. Because it’s a hard business and when you do receive the dreaded bad review, you’re going to want to have someone (or several someones) to talk/scream/weep to. Fellow writers are great for this because they understand the sting in the way perhaps even your friends and family don’t. They understand it on a visceral, personal level, and good writing friends will be able to act as a crutch or talk you off the ledge or commiserate with you on the level you need. Having these people around will help you get what you need off your chest without doing anything rash (like… uh… coming at the reviewer). Writing pals are a Godsend. Make lots of them.

You’re not a Failure

You might feel like one. But you’re not. If you need it, take a few days off from whatever you’re working on to absorb the hurt, and then expel it however you do. I know that when I receive a bad review, then try to work on something immediately thereafter, it affects everything. I received, for example (again, not calling anyone out, just an observation), a review about my style once. Specifically, that it was stilted and this reviewer didn’t like that. I went to edit the same day, thinking my armor was well enough intact to get what I needed to get done, done. But nope. Everything I read that day felt fake and awkward and didn’t flow and was terrible and gross. My brain was doing a weird brain thing where it was absorbing my insecurities and bringing them to life.

Good news is I was able to recognize what was happening and put the pen down before I destroyed everything I’d written by trying to be a writer I wasn’t. It’s true that certain aspects of my style are stilted. I was trained to write postmodern literary fiction. It’s not necessarily a flowing style (as much as postmodernism can be defined as anything), and it does sometimes find itself out of place in the YA/NA fantasy world. Some people find this refreshing, some people find it off-putting. But it’s how I write. It’s what makes me unique. Was the reviewer who critiqued my style correct? Yep, absolutely. Does that mean I should change? Not today, it doesn’t.

Who knows, though, what tomorrow will bring. The only thing to do is to make sure there is tomorrow.

Keep writing.

❤ Always,

Aimee

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Next week on the blog: I’m going to the RWA Day of YA in Orlando! And I’ll hopefully talk about it! The Wheel Mages is up for an award, too, so I’ll be revealing the results of that 😛 Don’t want to miss it? Don’t forget to follow!

Let’s Talk: Pirating

Note: I haven’t been able to keep up here much lately because the launch of The Blood Mage is quickly approaching, but I hope to catch up with all you lovelies soon! In the meantime, enjoy a somewhat humorous story with a happy ending and a serious message.

A couple of days ago, my very enthusiastic mom posted a message on her Facebook page and tagged me in it. The message informed me she had obtained a free copy of my upcoming novel The Blood Mage.

She was excited, because she’s been dying to read the second book in my series. I was mortified because I had no idea how this had come to pass.

The thing is, the only people who have copies of my second book are reviewers. I sent out ARCs to book bloggers, bookstagrammers, booktubers, vloggers, etc. last weekend. Buuuut I sent out digital copies, meaning pirating is a thing that could easily happen. I trust 99% of reviewers to do the right thing with an ARC and not reproduce or redistribute it, but I was worried I’d made a bad call when I saw this.

My frantic, rambling thoughts went something like this: Holy shit, someone has pirated my book and put it on some website for people to download before it’s out. But how could this happen? I’m not famous enough for someone to pirate my book. Does this mean I’m a little bit famous now? Should I be honored? Alarmed? Oh. My. God. If someone with an ARC is responsible that means there is an uncorrected proof floating out there somewhere on the interwebs.

Seriously. My immediate concerns were not of a financial nature. I was mostly just concerned about readers getting their hands on something that wasn’t the best possible version. The Blood Mage isn’t even back from the copy editor yet. It was hard for me to to send ARCs out at all because I knew they were not final. It makes me cringe to think anyone is reading something that isn’t 100% as good as it could be (which is why I never reread my published works because as my writing evolves, the standard of “as good as it could be” shifts).

The only reason I finally DID manage to send ARCs out was because I talked to some book bloggers who convinced me y’all know what to expect when it comes to ARCs and even though it might twist my gut a little to send something not at its peak, I understand the economic advantages of doing so. Still, it was difficult, so to think someone had put an uncorrected proof out there for anyone to read at any time for ever and ever was horrifying.

Shortly after my mom posted this most of terrible of things, my brother sent me a text message demanding to know how our mother had obtained a book he, too, has been excited to read. I started to panic. Rapid fire messages were sent to my mom demanding to know who, what, when, where, and how she’d gotten this alleged book. I was halfway through drafting the DMCA Take Down Notice I’d need for when I figured out what website would dare host such a thing, when my mom informed me she’d obtained the “book” from a website called Instafreebie.com.

Deep sigh.

For those who don’t know, Instafreebie is a website where authors (most usually self-published authors) can upload their books or excerpts of their books to distribute for no cost to readers. I’ve used it in the past for running promotions and currently you can obtain an excerpt of The Blood Mage right here. Anyone who follows me on Twitter knows that excerpt has been my pinned tweet for awhile.

My mom, bless her, thought she’d somehow downloaded the entire book but after inspection, realized what she had, was, in fact, only said excerpt. Crisis averted.

But this whole event got me to thinking: What does it mean to pirate a book?

I mean, book sharing is a definite thing in the book community. There are libraries, obviously, and you can exchange books on your Kindle, and you can trade books with friends. These are activities that are usually encouraged by authors, right? Plus, authors in general, but especially self-published authors, give their books away for free all the time. So what’s the big deal?

I’m being 100% serious when I tell you I legitimately asked myself this question yesterday. Mainly because I knew if I ranted on Twitter someone else would ask it eventually so I’d better have an answer. But I digress.

Okay. So what’s the big deal? Well… first of all, it’s stealing and that’s super uncool. If I decide to give my book away it’s a gift. If you decide to pirate it, it’s stealing. Pretty simple.

Right, but pirated or obtained through legitimate means, I still end up with a free copy so does the distinction really matter?

Well, as Lukas, one of the main characters in my new book (which I hope you will BUY) says, “Distinctions always matter.” But more than that, this particular distinction is about timing.

Promotions are run with timing in mind. Books aren’t given away for free or low cost whenever or wherever, forever. There are windows to create buzz or just to show appreciation. But they’re short. They’re short because people are mostly impatient. It’s why we’re not all taking the grocery stores for everything they’re worth like the savvy folks on Extreme Couponing. Most people don’t want to wait. Promotions are run banking on this fact.

Authors run promotions hoping some people will download their books for free and like them enough to talk about them to their friends, family, internet acquaintances, etc. and those people will eagerly buy the book at full price. Or, if they have a series, they hope they can give the first book away for free and people will enjoy it enough to continue the series. Simple. But if the book is pirated (the horrifying unproofed ARC issue aside), then it’s available for free all the time and the author loses out on the whole point behind targeted promotions and timing.

Key point here: The author loses out. Look, I grew up in the time of Napster (I’m dating myself, aren’t I? Youngins’, here’s a Wikipedia article), so I know the allure of free stuff and the counter-culture argument behind screwing “the man”. I get it. But when you pirate the work of an artist, you’re not only hurting the big corporations, you’re also hurting the little guy (read: the artist). You’re actually hurting them the most because they’re less likely to be able to absorb the hit when compared to a big publishing house or a record company or in the case of indie artists, many simply don’t make enough sales to afford to lose any.

And honestly, if you are into art, then you should support artists the same as you support anyone else. By buying their product.

In conclusion: Support artists. Don’t steal their things.

❤ Aimee

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Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Dear College Writing Professors

Dear College Writing Professors,

It’s been almost a decade since I sat in your classrooms, bright-eyed and full of hope and naivete. A decade. Wow. Hard to believe how time flies.

I wanted to let you all know that I’m still here doing that thing y’all taught me how to do–write. I’m doing something else these days, too. Publishing.

My first book debuted last year. It’s young adult. And genre fiction. And self-published. I might have broken some rules in the last decade. But there are no teen girls crying in bathtubs! So there’s that.

First, I want to thank you. Joking aside, so many of your lessons can be found between the pages of my debut novel. You were right when you said I wasn’t ready to publish at twenty. I had so much growing up to do, still do, really. My second book (which will be released in July) is better than my first, and I hope they continue to improve until the last.

Much of who I am today is thanks to you. You taught me how to pay attention and the fundamentals of craft. I recently read through the notes y’all left on some of my short stories, and I’m amazed how you managed to see through the clumsy mess of the young writer I was to the writer I could be. Seeing the potential of someone is hard, and I sometimes wonder if anyone ever recognizes that quiet but important skill. So, thank you. So much.

There are a few things I wish I’d known before this trial by fire that is the publishing world, though. Self-publishing wasn’t a thing a decade ago (I distinctly remember laughing with peers over the absurdity of “vanity publishing”), so I’m not here to talk about the method of publication, but the industry as the giant, problematic beast it is and has, apparently, always been.

See, the thing is, we never talked about publishing. We all thought about it, constantly. Sometimes we even discussed it in hushed whispers, but it wasn’t really a part of our college writing lives. It seemed a little like repressed sexuality–that thing a lot of us think about but don’t feel comfortable discussing for whatever read-between-the-lines reason. But the thing is, like repressed sexuality, not talking about it makes us think about it more, then when we’re confronted with it we don’t really know what to do.

Manuscript. Query letter. Agent. Publishing house. Check. I did gather that. I didn’t do that and that’s on me for better or worse, but we all know there is a lot more that goes into this business than those things. A lot I wish I’d had a better handle on before I jumped in with both feet.

For example, genre fiction is a thing that happens. And of course craft is craft across genres, but there are conventions at play in genre fiction that aren’t at play in literary fiction. It seems basic, but knowing that would have helped.

On a larger scale, though, some rules of decorum when approaching the industry would have really come in handy, because I’m honestly still a little lost. How are we supposed to act? What are we supposed to say to agents, to editors, to other authors, to readers? A simple list of dos and don’ts for approaching this book-making machine to tape above my computer would have been nice.

Granted, I think some of my confusion has been caused by how rapidly technology and social media has advanced in the last ten years, and I imagine not all of my concerns could’ve been addressed in your classes. Still, professionalism basics would have been good to know. [As an aside to liberal arts professors in general, please teach or at least encourage your students to learn how to use a copier. Seriously, I’m really proud of the fact that I can quote Yeats, but that didn’t make me feel any smarter when I couldn’t figure out how to un-jam a copier.]

Also, publishing is confusing. I know that now, but because we didn’t talk about it much, I sort of thought it might be simpler than it is. It certainly seemed linear. Manuscript. Query letter. Agent. Publishing House. Barnes & Noble (Borders back then, too!). Got it. But that’s not really how it works. There are conferences and workshops and expos and networking and connections to be made. There are market trends and charts and fads and movements. There are now Twitter pitches (again, I know you probably didn’t see that one coming, I don’t think a lot of us did). There are small presses and large presses, vanity presses and self-publishing. None of which we ever seemed to talk about. There’s a whole vocabulary I never knew existed.

I don’t know if we didn’t talk about it because we weren’t ready and you knew that or if we didn’t talk about it because you wanted to create an environment in which we weren’t tainted by the business side of things. I understand both reasons, but honestly, the secrecy wasn’t very helpful.

Maybe I shouldn’t feel this way. I went to school to become a writer, not an author, and I did learn that. But I mean… we all wanted to be authors, right? At least for those of us who advanced through the program, you knew our endgame was author, correct? Would it have hurt us so much to hear a little bit about the business we were likely headed for?

Because at the end of the day, this is a business. Much more goes into it than art. It’s branding and marketing and readings and seminars. It’s continued education on craft but also on being a savvy businessperson. Honestly, I might not have taken advice to consider a business or marketing class. Knowing me, I probably wouldn’t have, but there are plenty of writing students out there smarter and savvier than I am who would benefit from that tidbit.

At the end of the day, I want you to know I’m proud to have been your student. I’m proud to have learned as much as I did, and I’m extremely grateful for the knowledge you gifted me. But I’ve also made some pretty big mistakes when it comes to this whole writer to author thing, and I was hoping that maybe in the future, you could address the elephant in the room, too. Although now you might just direct your students to Twitter.

Respectfully,

Aimee

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On Internalized Sexism and Writing

…Odeth, the only woman person I’d ever known to smile as infrequently as me, returned it…

~ Revisions, The Blood Mage

#ThingsOnlyWomenWritersHear was trending on Twitter today, and it made me angry–so here’s a blog post.

As I scrolled through the above hashtag, a few things occurred to me–I’m not alone (bittersweet), and many of these things have not only been said to me, but have been said by me. To/about other women writers and to myself.

Internalized sexism is a thing, y’all.

Just last week, I was having a conversation with another writer about friends of his who write romance but are working on something different. My immediate, knee jerk reaction, was to say, “They plan to publish under a different name, I hope.”

Yeah, I’m an asshole. That is sexist AF. Women can be sexist. I have a lot of sexist tendencies. They show up in my work (see the above). That revision didn’t come until my seventh draft of The Blood Mage. It took me SEVEN revisions to realize I’d quietly pinned the expectation of smiling onto female characters only.

Why is that? Short answer: society.

I was fortunate unfortunate enough to somehow be part of a conversation between two nineteen year old boys last night as they tried to convince me, “It used to be a man’s world.”

No. It is still a man’s world. And though we try to fight it, we must still live in it, so women have learned to adapt. We have bills to pay and families to support and dreams to nurture. So we learn to survive in a world that isn’t for us. In small ways and large. We smile and bat our eyes and try to change things, but some of the “way things are” trickles in. We internalize the words fed to us by our oppressors.

Smile. Be grateful. Be humble. Don’t be so negative. God, that’s dark. Your female characters are too weak, too emotional, write more like a man. Too autobiographical. Oversharing. It’s a good thing your boyfriend doesn’t read. Your character is unlikable. She’s too soft, now too hard. How can she have never thought about marriage? Maybe women just aren’t good writers. A sexually aggressive female lead? Disgusting. Don’t cry. Why don’t you ever cry?

These and a million others are constantly circling in my head, and at the end of the day, we write what we know. When what we know includes all this garbage, it’s no surprise we find internalized sexism in our work and in our lives. It’s no surprise I turn my nose down at romance writers or find myself debating the likability of female characters with my female friends. It’s no surprise I don’t balk at Chekhov’s description of female characters as “young and silly” but wonder if I should publish a short story describing men as lovers of things beautiful and broken.

Just because it isn’t surprising, however, doesn’t make it right. As writers, it’s our responsibility to ask hard questions, not only of those around us, but of ourselves as well. We need to read from the perspective of craft, and ask ourselves why we’re feeling some kind of way about that leading lady. Is she poorly written or has society made us feel that women like her are off-putting? Do we not like that romance novel because it falls into a problematic trope or because our own sexuality makes us uncomfortable?

And, above all, we need to educate. Ourselves and those around us, especially girls. Tune out society. Do you. Be fearless. Be brave. Be strong. Fuck, be weak. Be kind. Be smart. Be you. Don’t let anyone tell you who to be. We need to tell our girls that their bodies are theirs and their voices are theirs and their stories are theirs. We need to stop policing how women “should be” and just let them be.

And to all the men who thought that we of course needed a counter-hashtag #ThingsOnlyMaleWritersHear, go ahead and take a seat for a minute, we’re having a serious conversation.

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