On Incremental Growth

You may remember that roughly a million years ago, I wrote an essay about my chives plant, in which I noted that I'd had my chives plant for fifteen years, which at that point, was almost half my life. The chives did finally die from bugs, alas, but I went back to their parent plant and got another chunk, so at least my current chives are genetically related to the old ones.

For a long time, though, I kept plants around mostly for aesthetic reasons. It didn't much matter if they died because I could always go out and get more. I could grow new ones. After all, even plants in the wild die all the time.

But lately, my perspective has changed. Weirdly enough, it was because I had to repot my aloe plant. It had been in a plastic pot, but it had gotten so big and heavy, that the pot had the tendency to try to capsize, and I had to prop it up with a rock. So I bought a heavier clay pot, and when I pulled out the roots, I discovered that the aloe had actually become rootbound. And it occurred to me, that although I'd killed many other plants in my life, clearly I was doing something right with this aloe.

And then I thought to myself, maybe we're friends. Not just general friends, like I am with all the trees, but real friends. Close friends. And then I looked around at all my other plants, and realized all of them were happy. Not just alive, or hanging on by a thread, but like they weren't just an aesthetic anymore. They were happy to be here, and I was happy to have them.

So I decided they all deserved names. It took me several days, but please let me introduce to you my plants:

From left to right:

Spiderplant, Cornel; ponytail palm, Eleanor; alacasia, Weil; begonia, Jean-Paul; chives, Jeanu; bonsai, Søren; aloe, Simone; lamb's ear, Albert; inch plant, Tahani; begonia in a jar, Michael; philodendron, Chidi.

The only plant I have yet to name is my jasmine plant, who currently is living her best life in full bloom outdoors.

I think sometimes I forget or am unable to see the value in the small things. It can be easy to overlook how incremental actions add up over time. How brushing my teeth everyday means I still have teeth, and will for the duration of my life. How playing piano for only a few minutes here and there has grown my skill immeasurably. How each word I write plays a role in improving my skill as a writer. How putting a single dish in the dishwasher makes my house just a little bit cleaner.

Each action on its own feels like it means nothing. It is a single choice, a forgettable action, something that just happens, sometimes with intention and sometimes without. But when viewed over time, these little actions add up, and together become a much larger thing. A clean house, a new skill, a relationship.

Taking time to water my plants every few days means they survive and grow and thrive. It's a habit. A thing I do because I'm supposed to, because I chose to have plants. But then suddenly, I realize they've been my friends for years. Years which, if those plants were to die, would take that same number of years to replace.

Incremental growth is still growth. Incremental change is still change. Even if it's hard to see while it's still happening.

July Cat News: Meet Freya!

Our new cat is named Freya. Her story is the kind of story that might make you angry, so if you don't feel like being annoyed at humankind, skip ahead. 

We found her in the neighborhood across the street from our house. She was yowling bloody murder at the back door of a house that had recently been listed for sale. It was night, and there are coyotes here, and we knew the house had been mostly empty for months, so we snagged her and took her home. The next morning, I contacted the realtor on the listing, told him we'd found the cat, and asked if she belonged to the owners of the house, thinking that perhaps the cat had been upset by the packing and escaped.

While we awaited his reply, we did some digging. One of the other neighbors said that the family had gone through a messy divorce, which is why the property had been mostly empty for months. The cat had appeared roughly around the time the house went up for sale, and the neighbor had been feeding her outside. The cat was very sweet and cuddly, and we quickly discovered she was declawed. We had her checked for a microchip (none) and checked all the local Facebook groups & SPCA pages for any missing cat posts (also none).

When the realtor got back to us, he reported that the family said the cat was a stray they had been feeding and had suggested we take her to the SPCA. The cat was left alone, outside, declawed, trying to get back into a very specific house—we deduced that the most likely story is that the family abandoned her when they left. And then they had the gall to tell us to take her to the SPCA, which they could have easily just done themselves.

Long story short, we have a new cat. She's sweet and gentle, loves humans, likes Blueberry, although, is uncertain about the other cats. And given the personalities of the rest of the crew, I don't blame her lol.

Blueberry has been having a grand old time this summer. There is a lake near us with no houses on it, part of a state park, so we have been taking evening trips over to wade in the water and schniff all the schnoffs. He's very popular and gets many hugs from children, meets lots of friend-shaped frendos, and occasionally rolls in something dead. It's close by, so an easy adventure, plus there is nothing quite like an evening stroll along a lakeshore as a way to relax for the whole family.

The cats are a little less pleased, what with Freya's arrival. Buck is very confused about what exactly is going on and spends most of his time glaring suspiciously at empty rooms and hissing at nothing; Wilfred is trying to befriend everyone despite their resistance; and Rowan just wants to be left alone—she spends most of her days outdoors. The good news is that the vet says everyone is adapting as well as can be expected, everyone is healthy, and Rowan is one of the healthiest 18-year-old cats he's ever seen.

Writing Tips (Sometimes): Ariele's Hot Take On Writing To Market

This is part of my series of essays for writers. Get them delivered to your inbox by signing up here!

Family photo! Me, Blueberry, and Josh last winter <3

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “write to market” bandied around the indie author community quite a bit. It’s a popular phrase, and while there’s a bit of fuzziness in how it’s defined, it generally means: understanding the currently popular genres and tropes, and then writing books that reflect the currently popular genres and tropes.

Essentially, you’re analyzing market trends and trying to guess what direction readers want to go in, and then producing a product that aligns with your analysis. Do they want more fantasy romance with enemies-to-lovers tropes and lovable characters? Or do they want more gritty fantasy romance with love triangle tropes and dark themes?

Writing to market is a difficult and challenging endeavor, and the authors who do it well tend to have a solid, excited, devoted audience of readers who are always looking for the next best thing.

Despite many well-known author-influencers in the industry swearing by this method and technique, it definitely doesn’t work for everyone. I’ve met many an excellent writer who has done in-depth analyses of the market, written books that align with the most popular tropes and themes, and still not been a huge success.

Recently, I was watching a Master Class with Bob Iger, who is the CEO of Disney, and he said something that really stuck out to me. In his segment on anticipating what your audience wants, he said, “One of the most interesting and perhaps challenging aspects of creative storytelling is that you’re often giving consumers what they want before they actually know they want it, and certainly before they express the fact that they want it. That takes a lot of instinct; it also takes a lot of courage, because you’re telling a story to an audience hoping that they want it, but not knowing going in whether they do or not.”

He followed this up by saying that while there’s real value in understanding a marketplace, collecting that information in order to decide what story to tell is a waste of time. “I don’t think you ever learn enough from data about what a marketplace would want in terms of story, or how a marketplace would even react to a story. That decision needs to be based more on a gut instinct and on a confidence you have in the creative entity that’s telling the story.” [Any quotation errors are mine; I scribbled it out in pencil.]

In his case, the “creative entity that’s telling the story” might be Pixar or Marvel or whomever. But in our case, that’s us. We are the creative entity that’s telling the story.

So sure, doing market research is great. Read books in your genre. Read books out of your genre. Read books that haven’t been printed in a hundred years. Read stories that only exist in digital form, on Wattpad or Tumblr or whatever. Watch TV, watch movies, play video games.

But I truly do not believe that writing to market is the key to success. Writing something that’s amazingly unique and new and never-before-seen is also not the key to success.

The key to success is learning to trust in your gut and to have confidence in the entity that’s telling the story (that’s you).

If you look back through history at the writers and authors who were most lauded for their time, the writers who are considered literary geniuses, the writers who have made a ton of money, the writers who are still read by kids in school today—even the writers who aren’t read in school, but made a steady, reliable income from their work. They read a lot, and they wrote a lot (for the most part)—but most of all, they focused on being the best writer they could, and staying authentic to their own voice and their own art.

Is that a guaranteed path to success? Nah.

But there isn’t a guaranteed path to success as an author. We work in a speculative industry. So that’s what we have to do: speculate.

So if you think that writing to market sounds like the best thing ever—do it. And if it sounds awful and miserable and like you’d rather jump off a bridge in the middle of winter in Antarctica, then forget about it.

And for me: I plan to continue leaning into writing things that I love, and focusing my creative energies on producing work that makes me happy. And I’ll hope that one day, eventually, I’ll write something that will make a lot of other people happy too.

Blueberry with his favorite toy of all time: an old shoe with treats stuck inside it.

I Don't Write YA Novels

Lately, I have gotten a few new reviews on my books that say things like:

  • “This book is probably written for teens” (Aria)

  • “Even though the protagonists are men, I think the book might appearl to teens.” [sic] (As if YA books don’t have male characters ha) (Sundered Sky)

  • “I am sure YA readers will love it” (Sundered Sky)

  • “an action packed young adult science fiction creature feature” (Tentacles and Teeth)

And I just want to say: I don’t write YA.

None of my books are YA.

The Young Adult (YA) genre of fiction has one of the most broad and vague definitions in the whole of literature. Essentially, YA books are stories written about teens for teens. It is a category designed to bridge the gap between children’s books and adult books.

But despite that vague definition, here’s the thing: my books aren’t about teenagers. Nor are they written for teenagers.

I don’t write YA.

To be clear, I have no issue with teenagers. I also have no issue with YA. I’ve read an obscene amount of it, myself. But I don’t write in the genre.

My youngest character is 19. My oldest character is 65. Most of my characters are between 25 - 40. I do have a series of children’s books for elementary aged children that is not part of my brand, but again, not YA.

There is violence in my stories. In one book, the main character cuts off the head of another human. My characters fight monsters, both of the monstrous and the human varieties. There is murder. Swearing. Rage.

I don’t write YA.

Yet, I am often introduced as a YA author, libraries have put my books in the YA section, and I keep getting reviews that say my books are YA—from people who have presumably actually read the books!

I’m not sure why people think my work is YA.

I’ve thought about it a lot, because it bugs me. I think there are a few possible reasons:

  1. No one actually knows the definition of a YA book. I don’t feel like it should be that complicated, but if a book is about an adult, it’s not YA.

  2. I am a woman. I’ve read a number of articles and spoken with quite a few women writers who all claim that their books are shoved into the YA section or presumed to be YA, despite graphic content and very not-YA-appropriate themes, because of the author’s perceived gender.

  3. I don’t write graphic sex scenes. Although, even books with graphic sex scenes are sometimes classified as YA, like Sarah Maas’s work which is definitely not YA.

  4. I don’t write super dark stuff.

  5. I’m grasping at straws here, but maybe it’s because I write about themes of people figuring out who they are? Which is absolutely not an activity that is restricted to teenagers.

I don’t write YA.

The reason this is important to me is because how our books are labeled matters. For example, they say there is a dearth of women scifi and fantasy writers, but what are we supposed to do about it if our books are always being shoved into the YA section?

Not to mention, since I don’t write for teens, I can put all kinds of scenes in if I want to. Sex scenes, violence, murder, swearing. My work is not guaranteed to be “safe,” and I wouldn’t want a teen picking up and reading something that isn’t teen-appropriate. I don’t even know what teen-appropriate is! I’m not a parent and I haven’t spent that much time with teens as an adult.

I don’t write YA.

But sometimes, I want to write about the cozy, gentler side of life, too. I don’t want to have to make my books super dark and horror-filled, or sexy and steam-filled, just to be put back into the adult section (not that it would even necessarily work if I tried that strategy).

And I know writing this blog post is probably not going to fix anything, lol.

But I just want to make it clear in case you didn’t know: I don’t write YA.

For your reference:

  • Askari (Land of Szornyek): 21 years old

  • Aria (Aria’s Song): 25 years old

  • El (Rove City): 21 years old (I think lol)

  • Jack (Rove City): 26 years old

  • Maybelle (Rove City): 24 years old

  • Penny (Rove City): 65 years old

  • Sophia (Rove City): 40 years old

  • Eloita (from unpublished fantasy series): 27 years old though I’m considering aging her more just because I can

  • John & Quin (Zirian Chronicles): several hundred years old because their species lives longer than humans, but their human equivalent would be in their late 20s/early 30s

  • Mabel (my favorite character from Ariele’s Fairy Tales): 45 years old

I don’t write YA. And I certainly won’t hold it against anyone who makes the mistake of thinking I do. But the least I can do is make sure I’ve posted it somewhere publicly for all to see.

If I haven’t said it enough times already, let me say it once again: I don’t write YA.

Even if your teenager likes my books. Even if you think they are safe and appropriate for your teenager to read. Even if you think a teenager you know might enjoy them.

That’s great! But they aren’t YA.

Because I don’t write books about teens for teens.

I don’t write YA.

These are the MidJourney illustrations of the characters from my most recent book of original fairy tales: The Swamp Hag of Blackrock Fields.

Writing Tips (Sometimes): Shoving Your Reader Over A Cliff (Metaphorically Speaking!)

Let’s talk about cliffhangers! I already wrote about this on my blog a while back, if you want to check that out, but I wanted to take a few minutes to add to my thoughts on the topic. And if you want to get these delivered straight to your inbox, click here!

Cliffhangers are a hot topic in the writing and reading world, and what’s interesting, is that people tend to have extremely intense feelings about them. And usually, their feelings are “I hate this!”

But I recently encountered a book (Ledge, by Stacey McEwan) and all of her readers kept referring to this “crazy” cliffhanger at the end, but they loved it. They loved it so much they all rushed out to preorder the next book in the series. So being the curious type, I bought the book to find out what made this book so damn special, that it could have a cliffhanger that no one hated.

Imagine my surprise, when I found—it wasn’t a cliffhanger! At least, not in the way I personally understand cliffhangers.

This got me to thinking: people use the word “cliffhanger” in several different ways. And there’s not much nuance or consistency behind it. I personally don’t like certain types of cliffhangers, but the one at the end of Ledge is great, and does what the author intended—which is make you want to dive right into the second book of the series.

So I sat down and contemplated the various types of cliffhangers. What types of story elements might be called a “cliffhanger” and what is one supposed to do?

The dictionary was unhelpful in this matter, because all it suggested was that a cliffhanger is a suspenseful ending. And all things considered, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, especially when you’re writing a series.

But the nuance here for me, is that suspenseful is different than disappointing. I like to keep my readers in suspense if possible! But I don’t want to disappoint them.

So how? How do I create that end-of-story suspense without disappointing my reader? 

For me, the answer is in understanding the different types of “cliffhanger” endings, and how many readers feel about them.

Type 1: The Truncate

The first type of cliffhanger is what I think most people hate. This is when a story ends before the climax of the book, or before the main conflict of the book is resolved. The book that pops in mind for me was Cinder by Marissa Meyers. Now, plenty of people loved this book. It has a great premise, an interesting character, strong world building, and is a unique approach to a fairytale retelling.

But it ended very abruptly, in what felt like it was mid "dark night of the soul moment," without answering the main question of the book. Some readers dove right into Book 2 as a result; I opted not to, because I didn’t want to subject myself to the same disappointment multiple times in a row.

This is where true cliffhangers get tricky. Does it create the suspense you’re going for? Or is your reader going to get mad and put the series down, never to return?

Type 2: The Embankment

The second type of cliffhanger is an embankment. In this type of narrative, some kind of resolution is reached, but there is little to no falling action. We may find out what happened at the end of the book—the character arc may have been resolved, or the climactic moment solved—but the book ends immediately thereafter.

I’m going to use one of my own books as an example of this: City of Dod in the Land of Szornyek series. In this book, the characters get to the end of the story. They fight the big battle. They survive, more or less, at great cost to themselves. But then the book ends with the characters facing a journey. There is little to no falling action, no resolution of some of the subplot arcs—it’s just GIANT BATTLE… The End.

This type of cliffhanger can still be frustrating to some readers, especially those who like resolution to the subplot threads as well as the main plot in a single book. However, it can also be a good way to pull the reader into the next story.

Type 3: The Flabbergast

A flabbergast is exactly what it sounds like—“Well, I didn’t see that coming!”

The cliffhanger at the end of Ledge by Stacey McEwan, I think qualifies as a flabbergast. The book takes you through the climactic moment, and then even has some falling action as some of the other questions are resolved, and then something crazy happens right on the last page, during the resolution.

When this type of ending is combined with an embankment, it can create a double whammy for the reader, making it feel even more like a cliffhanger ending.

Hopefully, in most cases, these types of endings are both satisfying, and also create that kind of suspense that makes the reader want to run out and buy the next book in the series.

Type 4: Threads

Truthfully, I don’t think threads are really cliffhangers at all, but they are a way to create suspense that pulls the reader into the next book, so I’m including them.

Threads are when the author deliberately leaves questions unanswered at the end of a book. The characters will go through the climactic moment, have the classic falling action, denouement, and but still have some questions when all is said and done.

I think most readers can tell the difference between threads and cliffhangers, but there are some threads that are pretty big questions—especially series arc threads which leave huge questions hanging over the character’s heads.

There are different types of threads, but the thing they all have in common is that they start in one book, and end in a later one. The longer the series, the more threads there are likely to be.

Threads can be found in every genre, but are especially common in science fiction and fantasy. For examples of threads, check out a series like Millenium’s Rule by Trudy Canavan, or Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan.

Type 5: Fizzlers

Fizzlers are simply endings that suck. Endings that leave us disappointed and bitter and frustrated with the author at how the story played out.

The whole story was there—the beginning, middle, end; the conflict, falling action, resolution—but it just… fell flat.

Whether or not an ending sucks is a very personal and subjective question. But I think there is a subset of readers who will refer to shitty endings as “cliffhangers” even if they are nothing of the sort.

Fizzlers can look like a lot of things. They can have the resolution happening offstage, so you don’t see it. They can have unbalanced, disappointing rising action and climaxes—like when you’re playing a video game, do all the work to get to the final boss, only to kill the final boss in like five seconds. Sometimes, instead of making forward progress on solving their series arc problem, the characters go backwards. Sometimes a favorite character is killed off.

But the thing that remains constant is that the reader was disappointed.

Sometimes a story is just not what the reader hoped for. And that’s okay. Not every book is for every person.

Choosing To Use A Cliffhanger

There are lots of reasons why a writer might choose to use a cliffhanger at the end of their book (or at the end of a chapter or scene!). Perhaps it was just right for the story. Maybe they like cliffhangers. Maybe it’s to get the reader to pick up the next book. Maybe it’s common in the genre they’re writing in.

Despite the general rage toward cliffhangers, if you want to use one, feel free! They can be a useful tactic for creating suspense in your story.

But, I recommend knowing what type of cliffhanger you’re using, and understanding what impact it has on the narrative and the reader.

That way, when you shove your reader off the cliff, you can do so with confidence.