When Sarah Rees Brennan asked me to write a companion essay to her piece on the many issues women face in self-promotion, I had just returned from a trip to Austin, Texas, where I was promoting my most recent novel, Inheritance, at the Austin Teen Book Festival. I was about to leave for Wordstock, a book festival in Portland, Oregon, to continue this promotion. I began writing this essay in my friend’s house near Seattle, where I had just done a bookstore event, and was about to drive back to the Portland area for another book festival.
It seemed weirdly meta to write a post about self-promotion while in the midst of self-promotion — and kind of disturbingly appropriate.
In Sarah’s essay, she wrote about the criticisms and flat-out threats that she and many other women writers receive, partly in reaction to their promotional efforts. I’ve been fortunate in that I haven’t received threats of violence, although I have been on the receiving end of various mean-spirited messages via social media outlets. Because of this, I’ve learned to avoid Googling myself, and I never read reviews of my books that haven’t been vetted by someone I trust. This is a self-defense mechanism, because frankly it hurts my feelings when someone attacks me and my books, and I’d like to avoid feeling bad about myself.
I can already hear someone on the internet saying, “What a wimp. Criticism is good for you and you should grow a thicker skin.”
I will freely admit that I’m a wimp when it comes to criticism. I have to save my ability to take it (and what a loaded phrase that is) for people who are criticizing my work with an eye to helping me improve it. My editors, agent, and critique partners give me plenty of feedback in time for me to shape my writing.
But I don’t believe that creative individuals should have to grow thicker skins. I believe that if you’re out there creating art, you should make sure you’re as open and thin-skinned as possible, so that you can feel every damn thing that arises in you. You need to be able to fully experience those emotions so you can use them in your work, but only within reason. I draw the line at letting mean-spirited criticism into my mental space.
The problem is, the more you put yourself out there, either via simply producing more novels or by promoting the ones you’ve already published, the more criticism is thrown at you, and the unending barrage can wear you down. It can feel like walking into an ice storm. No matter how good your cold weather gear is or how experienced you are at weathering the storm, you have to keep your eyes open so you can keep moving forward. It’s impossible to avoid every freezing barb of ice, and when it stings you in the eyes, you can’t help but wonder if it’s worth it.
I have to constantly remind myself that I’m putting myself out there for a reason; that I chose this; that I can always choose to turn away.
As Sarah pointed out, “The less successful and promoted-elsewhere you are, the more important social media is to you.” My publisher has been very supportive of me and my novels, which are all about queer girls, and I’m often reminded of how rare it is to have that publisher support since my books are not about the straight white male norm. But of course there’s always someone who’s getting more support, and I’m also fighting against the tide of the mainstream, which rarely pays much attention to people like me.
Nevertheless, there’s also always someone who’s getting less support, and who is even more marginalized. I think I’m riding in the middle of the pack right now, and because I believe in my books–I wouldn’t write them if I didn’t–I want to promote them to the best of my ability. I want to break out of that pack. Doesn’t every writer?
That’s why, in addition to all my traveling this fall, I blog a lot. I came out of a career in freelance writing, so I’m very familiar with turning out articles quickly. I used to be an academic, so I’m good with research. For the month of October on my website–LGBT History Month–I focused on LGBT YA, both to highlight an underrepresented minority and because this is what I write. Part of me is a former academic/journalism nerd who just wants to write analytical articles about a subject I’m interested in, but of course another part of me is an author of LGBT YA novels who hopes that people who read those articles will buy my books.
I know that I’m walking a fine line when it comes to online self-promotion. I’m certain that if I slip down the slope to “too much” self-promotion (whatever that is), someone will tell me. I’ve learned to be afraid of getting emails from strangers full of complicated analyses of how my books didn’t work. I’ve learned to be afraid of seeing the message icon light up on Tumblr, because I’ve gotten nasty notes there. I’ve learned to be wary of clicking on links people send me on Twitter, because sometimes they lead to mean-spirited reviews of my work.
But I have to remember that despite these pitfalls, I’m actually living my dream. I am writing novels–about queer girls!–and they’re being published, and I’m being invited to book festivals and my blog posts are getting shared and readers come to my events and say, “Thank you for writing your books. They gave me hope.”
When I was at the Austin Teen Book Festival at the end of September, I was on a panel about young adult science fiction. I was excited about it because I wasn’t being ghettoized into an LGBT panel; the other panelists’ novels were all about straight people. However, I knew that I still had to out my books and by extension myself, because even if the packed room didn’t necessarily seem to have any queer women in it, I knew they were there. I wanted to speak up for them, to acknowledge that they–that we–exist, and that we belong in a mainstream panel, that we shouldn’t be marginalized.
Let me tell you: It was kind of a frightening experience. I live in the San Francisco Bay Area, and I’m completely out in my real life and online. Before I was a YA novelist, I was managing editor at AfterEllen, which is the world’s largest entertainment news site for lesbians and bisexual women. I am OUT. But in Texas, at that panel, for the first time in a long time I felt a weird pressure to stay silent.
Later on, a lesbian writer I know who attended the panel told me she too felt that the room had a bit of a hostile vibe. It wasn’t an overt thing at all–nobody said anything homophobic to me–but several people did tell me later, “You are brave for being so open about your sexuality.”
I’m going to guess that this is something straight writers don’t have to face: The belief that acknowledging who you are is a courageous thing to do. It is inordinately strange, and it strongly implies that you would be safer if you shut up about it.
At the end of the book festival there was a mass signing, in which every author who came was available to sign their books for readers. A woman who immediately set off my gaydar came to my table and asked me why I’d mentioned, during my panel, that Sarah Waters had inspired me. I told her it was because before I read Waters’ Tipping the Velvet, I had never encountered a novel about lesbians in which the lesbian characters had full lives–in which they could fall in love and wind up in a happy relationship rather than dead.
Leaning closer to me, the woman asked in a lowered voice, “Is this because you’re a lesbian?”
I was charmed by her question because I could tell she was gay, and she seemed to be whispering a secret to me through a keyhole. I smiled and said, “Yes. Yes, I’m a lesbian.”
She said, “Thank you so much for saying what you said at the panel. I never knew books like yours existed. I’m so glad you’re out.”
I told her, “You are the reason I came to this festival.”
And she was. No matter how disconcerting it is to be forced to come out over and over again, both in real life and online, no matter how frustrating it is to get homophobic messages or reviews, I have to remember that there are queer women out there sitting silent in the audience, or reading quietly online, who have never heard of my novels. Queer women who have never realized that they could read books about queer women who are allowed to fall in love and have happy, fulfilled lives.
This is what self-promotion is about for me: finding readers who want to read my books. My books are for them. I have to do everything I can to make that connection.
Tags: books, feminism, malinda lo, sexism, writing
She said, “Thank you so much for saying what you said at the panel. I never knew books like yours existed. I’m so glad you’re out.”
Ahhh. This is so so lovely. And this is why BOOKS MATTER. Representation matters! There are people out there who don’t know they aren’t the only one who ____. And books – along with movies, tv, everything.. but I have a special place in my heart for books – can help them realize, it isn’t just them.
I really liked this article a lot. Thanks for writing. (and now I want to check out Malinda Lo’s books!)
Oh man, I wrote to Malinda Lo once after reading Adaptation and she wrote back; it floored me. She’s very kind.
Me prior to age 30: “Queer women who have never realized that they could read books about queer women who are allowed to fall in love and have happy, fulfilled lives.”
Thanks for this article, and for your writing. Now off to get all the books!
So true! Ash is excellent, too.
Malinda how about at Boston I introduce myself and then you talk because YES. Awesome.
Thank you for being you. You are making a huge change in this world. I find it so disheartening that this is an issue, but we need to talk about it and we need it to change. Thank you Mallina Lo for writing books that matter and are also absolutely wonderful books.
Hear hear! Well said. Love your books. I would love to see a Huntress series!!!! Big hint.
Strongly seconded. Loved both Ash and Huntress.
Well, this article on self-promotion has effectively recruited at least one new reader; brb ordering all of these books.
Well, this article on self-promotion has effectively recruited at least one new reader; brb ordering all of these books.
THIS: ” I believe that if you’re out there creating art, you should make sure you’re as open and thin-skinned as possible, so that you can feel every damn thing that arises in you.”
YES, wonderful, important, true.
Also, my god your book covers are gorgeous.
Thank you for writing this! I’m currently a college senior who dreams of one day writing YA sci-fi/fantasy about queer and trans* youth, and it was writers like you who made it possible for me to have that dream. Thank you for all that you have done and continue to do. You give me hope.
Malinda, I am from Austin and I attended the Austin Teen Book Festival with my 3 teenage daughters. I am very sorry to hear that you felt a hostile vibe during your panel. This saddens me because it does not represent Austin which is known for being welcoming and accepting. Also, the fact that you are rightly proud of who you are “but in Texas” you felt a “weird pressure to stay silent” makes me shake my head at what a preconceived notion people from out of state must have of us Texans. (We are as diverse as the LGBT community, I promise.) I did not attend your panel, but did attend the first “I Made You A Mixed Tape” panel of the day that included Sara Farizan, author of If You Could Be Mine. Sara spoken openly and candidly about being a lesbian author and she was the hit of the panel. The buzz coming out of that room was how impressive she was: smart, witty and interesting. It was no small feat considering she shared the dais with heavy hitters Sara Dessen and Lauren Myracle, among others. She appeared totally comfortable up there and I dearly hope that was reflected right back to her by the audience. It was an honor to hear her speak. I only wish your experience at your panel could have been just like that. If you return next year, I will make a point to attend your panel with my girls. Sci Fi may not really be our thing, but supporting great women authors is!
I don’t want to dump all over your comment, but I think it’s kind of gaslighting to suggest that feeling a hostile vibe about coming out to a big crowd is about “a preconceived notion people from out of state must have about […] Texans”. I think it is much more likely that those who have a great deal of experience of hostile, homophobic environments, felt there was a slightly hostile vibe because there was, in fact, a slightly hostile vibe.
oops I’m in love with Malinda Lo now
FemSlash Fridays: The-Toast.net edition
I can’t wait to read all your books. It’s gonna happen!
Malinda, I loved what you said about being thin-skinned. As a writer of novels myself, I have told myself over the years to “buck up, sweetheart, you can take it,” but really there’s no reason to. I am who I am. Being sensitive and open is what makes me a good writer.
Susan Gabriel
author of The Secret Sense of Wildflower (historical, southern, coming of age) starred review, Kirkus Reviews and voted a Best Book of 2012
This totally made my cry.
Thanks for the work you put into your blog. I only recently read–and was so delighted by–Adaptation and Inheritance, and I keep finding links to your blog on Twitter. I’m never sorry I took the time to click and read. You are a rockstar.
Thanks for the work you put into your blog. I only recently read–and was so delighted by–Adaptation and Inheritance, and I keep finding links to your blog on Twitter. I'm never sorry I took the time to click and read. You are a rockstar.
I also can’t wait to read your books – I got them all after reading an article in Bitch that mentioned them but haven’t started any of them yet. Bumping to the top of the list!
I read your book Ash and absolutely loved it! It’s one of those rare kinds of books that doesnt have a very narrow focus on being a lesbian and the social taboos around it, and it means more than I can say to be able to read a book about a queer character whose personality and existence isnt reduced to the fact that she’s queer. As long as you keep writing I will continue to buy your books and recommend them to my friends!
This has been a weird process of coming out, over and over. And it’s been a process of smile and fake it, a lot. Living smack in the middle of Indiana, I’ve had teachers blithely tell me they changed the ending of my book for their class because “it’s a conservative area.” A parent literally, physically removed their child from my presence. There’s always that moment where I hesitate to say anything, and I hate that.
But you’re so right, it’s absolutely worth it for the teens who are so relieved to meet someone else who’s queer, who just needs a hug and a hello, and a lifeline to get to the next stage of their life. So we do it, and I’m so glad you do it, so well. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you, I love all of your writing.
Thank you for this eloquent post, Malinda, and reminding me of the merits of self-promotion. Love the story about the Austin Teen Book Fest. Huzzah!
Beautiful.