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The Mania of the “Best of” Lists
A Small Indiscretion has been included in the long list of 86 titles culled from the year’s finest fiction, a few of which will make the cut for the short list and be entered into Tournament of Books 2016.
I am thrilled with this news. I am grateful to whoever it was who placed me among so many authors I admire, and I am relieved not to have been overlooked. I am also dismayed that so many fine books are not on this or any other list; I am appalled that we look to lists to tell us who’s worthy, and who is not.
The post with the long list for the Tournament of Books 2016 asks readers to vote on their favorite work of fiction published in 2015, whether it’s on the list or not. Favorite, not best. That’s a step in the right direction. But when I asked myself that question–what was my favorite work of fiction published in 2015?–I was stumped.
Why? Because any book I read from beginning to end is my favorite while I’m reading it. If I’m drawn in by the voice, if I’m delighted by the sentences, if the characters feel human, if I even once pull out my pen to underline, then the book is worthwhile. And a worthwhile book will always be a favorite, because it has given me one of the most meaningful experiences of living, one unlike any other, the gift of being lost in a novel.
Asking me to choose a favorite book is like asking me to choose a favorite among my four children; they are all my favorites. Each has challenged me, surprised me, delighted me, disappointed me, made me laugh, made me cry, blessed me with immeasurable, and particular, joy.
We are a society that loves to compare, to rank, to win. There’s no way around it. But I would like to say to every single one of the writers out there who managed to pull off the improbable feat of finishing a novel and publishing it in 2015: You are a favorite. There are readers out there for whom your book mattered, not because it was the best book (there is no such thing as a best book, just as there is no such thing as a best child), but because it meant something to them personally; it moved them, it reminded them, it let them leave their own life for a little while and enter a different world. It gave them joy.
May you all have holidays full of novels and joy.
Jan
p.s. At the risk of an unforgivable duplicity: If A Small Indiscretion was the only novel you read this year (maybe because it was written by your best friend/wife/old flame/daughter/cousin/niece/neighbor), and it was a memorable reading experience, then by all means throw in a vote. That’s the equivalent of voting that your only child is your favorite.
http://www.themorningnews.org/post/vote-for-your-favorite-novel-from-2015
The Good, the Bad and the Mortifying of the Book Tour
The first question friends asked when I announced that my book was to be published was whether I’d be going on a book tour. I asked my publicist the same question. Her carefully practiced response was that Random House was very excited to orchestrate an extensive local tour, but they didn’t plan to send me anywhere outside driving distance (and they wouldn’t be paying for my gas). So much for the glamorous writing life.
The Good: Random House did arrange dozens of events and I read at Indie bookstores all over the West Coast. Friends and family came out and cheered me on and put me up, invitations rolled in from book festivals, writing conferences and charity organizations. Since January, I’ve chalked up nearly fifty events, with audiences ranging from 3 to 300, including stops in L.A., San Diego, Seattle, Bellingham, Missoula, Minneapolis, Boulder, Napa, Mendocino, Sacramento, and Burning Man. I’ve done 20 local book groups, and my book was picked by the San Francisco Chronicle for their members only Book Club, moderated by the paper’s Book Editor. I spoke at my kids’ school, my high school, and a school for disadvantaged youths in Newark, New Jersey. I’ve done virtual events and podcasts and radio spots and newspaper interviews. I overcame my fear of public speaking and learned that I love to talk to people about writing and literature. I lost ten pounds from the stress of it all. I made lots of new writer friends. I managed to get through it without a single case of bed bugs, all but one event was well attended, and my kids still more or less remember who I am. I learned that people still care about language and stories and authors and books.
The Bad:
I gained back the ten pounds from the stress of it all. I got behind on writing and life. I worried about what to wear and spent too much money on new clothes. I missed home. At book festivals and conferences, I often had that adolescent feeling of being the newcomer, the only one who wasn’t reuniting with old friends. At a festival in Missoula, I had an interior room at the Holiday Inn with a window that looked out not at big Montana sky, but at the Book Fair at which my book was for sale. It became a perverse pass-time to watch potential readers picking the book up, reading the jacket copy, then putting the book down and moving on.
The Mortifying:
I was invited to do an event at a beer garden in Sebastopol. Random House put me up in a hotel. The hosting bookstore sent three booksellers who set up an elaborate display, including a huge stack of books, a custom poster, and a microphone and lectern in an alcove of the beer garden. A new writer friend and her sister arrived and bought books, and one other person sat down. We waited ten minutes, but nobody else came. Patrons of the beer garden looked at me curiously as I began to speak, figured out I was an author, and went back to their pints. The silver lining: there was beer, and afterward, the writer, Sere Halverson, stayed on and commiserated. We’ve remained friends, and we’re planning a joint event next year when Sere’s wonderful new novel, All the Winters After, is released. Rest assured, it won’t be in a beer garden.
Literature Lover’s Giveaway
“Advice for wives circa 1896: The indiscriminate reading of novels is one of the most injurious habits to which a married woman can be subject. Besides the false views of human nature it will impart . . . it produces an indifference to the performance of domestic duties, and contempt for ordinary realities.”
—Dept. of Speculation, by Jenny Offill
Congratulations to November’s book-bag-scarf giveaway winners, Kristen Spain and Julie Galvin.
December’s Giveaway is a signed copy of A Small Indiscretion along with four highly acclaimed novels from 2014:
- Life Drawing, by Robin Black (my personal favorite novel of 2014)
- Ruby, by Cynthia Bond (Oprah’s Book Club Pick)
- Frog Music, by Emma Donoghue (Author of Room, now a major motion picture)
- The Paying Guests, by Sarah Waters (short-listed for the Man Booker Prize)
The one thing to do on Sunday for a stress free week
I thought I’d share an essay I published on MindBodyGreen about transforming worry into action. It seemed to resonate with readers, as it was shared nearly 5,000 times. I hope some of you will find it helpful as the holidays approach and our frantic lives grow even more frantic: The One Thing You Need to Do on Sunday for a Stress Free Week.
Dept. of Speculation, by Jenny Offill
I devoured Jenny Offill’s second novel, Dept. of Speculation, in one day, and cried over it eating my lunch. A novel narrated by a novelist, other writers, especially, will love it for the liberties it takes with structure and point of view. Readers will love it for the vulnerability, wit and intelligence of its narrator as she unfolds, in quirky, richly drawn fragments, the story of a marriage as it moves toward a crisis point. Read the New York Review of Books review.
The Evolution of a Book Jacket
A few words of gratitude
The last year has had the ups and downs, fear and thrills, panic and joy of the craziest roller-coaster ride, and it’s only because of your amazing support that I’ve stayed securely in my seat as my novel has made its way into the world.
You’ve thrown me book parties and hosted me for book clubs and listed me in your auctions and poured me fine wine. You’ve sent me nice notes about what the book has meant to you, and you’ve recommended it to friends. You’ve been a fan on Goodreads and talked the book up at your local bookstores. You’ve left me beautiful reviews on Amazon and lined me up for speaking engagements. You’ve signed up for this newsletter and followed my Facebook author page, and you’ve posted and tweeted and liked and linked and shared. You’ve spread the word about my events and turned out en masse all over the country, then joined me afterward for a beer (or two).
I’ve never felt so loved and supported, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Jan

Who chooses a book’s cover? Or: sex sells
I’m often asked at readings and book groups who decides what a book’s cover will look like. From what I can tell, this depends on the publisher, the editor, the author and the book. When Jonathan Franzen launched Freedom at the Herbst theater in San Francisco, he turned the book face in, away from the audience, because he hated the cover so much. “No birds,” he’d told his publisher, apparently, but a bird ended up on the cover anyway.
I was much luckier. Although my contract stipulates that my publisher has final say over the cover design, it was clear from the start my editors weren’t going to insist on a cover I didn’t like. Still, it was a long and difficult road. I was asked to submit covers I liked, and any ideas for directions. After a couple months of silence, I received a cover design, FedEx, at the hotel in Hawaii where we were vacationing with my husband’s family after Christmas. I’ll admit that receiving that first FedEx package thrilled me; the cover didn’t.
My agent and I liked the concept (the red scarf, below) but we wanted something more striking, and asked for iterations. Instead, after another protracted silence, we got the cigarette (right, below) and after we rejected that, the pearl necklace. I started to get worried, and wrote a long document with excerpts from the book highlighting various tropes that might be appropriate for a cover (lighting, photographs). My editors were, as always, gracious and accommodating, and the art department went back to the drawing board. A half dozen more concept sketches arrived, this time electronically, but none were quite right. Time was running short by then, and I was starting to panic. I found a freelance designer whose covers I liked, my publisher approached her, and in another incredibly gracious and generous move, hired her. The new designer found a photo we liked, the Random House art department improved the text treatment, and we had the final cover within two weeks.
When it came time to consider the trade paperback cover (Feb. 9th 2016), we all agreed we wanted to try something new. The art department sent a photo of a girl sitting on a bench with her legs crossed, and high heels on the ground. I thought it was an attractive image, but I worried the heels were cliched. We considered a photo of a couple in trench coats, and an image I found of a girl standing before a flooding Seine in Paris holding an umbrella.
I posted a survey on Facebook which received more than 300 responses. Many liked the trench coats but worried the man looked like a flasher. Some, including most of the men, flat out loved the girl’s legs. Others wondered if it might send the wrong message, and whether Annie Black’s legs and toes would be so perfectly manicured. The red umbrella received twice as many votes as the other two covers on Facebook, but Random House felt that photo was too neutral and quiet; they wanted something bolder. So I agreed to the original legs, but at the eleventh hour, the rights to that photo could not be secured.
The Random House art department saved the day by finding a different photo of a woman’s legs—grittier, edgier, more real, with no high heels. My agent and I liked it right away, and to everyone’s relief, we had consensus. Many of you who voted on the original photo of the girl’s legs left comments along the lines of: “Sex Sells.” You might just be right.

Baby steps toward a feature film
I don’t want to name names until we’re a little further along, but I’m happy to report that a fabulous Hollywood producer has optioned the film rights to A Small Indiscretion, a well-known writer is on board to adapt the book into a screenplay, and an independent film company has expressed interest in financing the project. Now we just need a few more folks to sign on the dotted line. This is still a long shot at this point, but if it were to actually happen, I’d get an Executive Producer credit and a role in the adaptation. No idea what that really means, but I do know that fingers and toes are officially crossed.
The Woman Upstairs, by Claire Messud
This book is not for everyone, but The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud blew me away. If you like an intimate narrator with an intelligent and emotionally authentic voice, flawed (i.e realistically drawn) characters, and brilliant sentences, give it a whirl. Here’s one of my favorite quotes:
“Above all, in my anger, I was sad. Isn’t that always the way, that at the heart of the fire is a frozen kernel of sorrow that the fire is trying―valiantly, fruitlessly―to eradicate.”
NaNoWriMo: Set a timer and write a novel with me in November?
I just signed up for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo): “On November 1, participants begin working towards the goal of writing a 50,000-word novel by 11:59 PM on November 30. Valuing enthusiasm, determination, and a deadline, NaNoWriMo is for anyone who has ever thought about writing a novel.” Anybody else want to join in?
I’ve never done this before, and I already have hundreds of pages of material, so I’m cheating a little, but I thought it might be a good kick in the pants for my second novel, The Safest City. I’m sharing my commitment to write 1,500 words every day in November here in the hopes that it’ll help keep me honest. I’m going to work to get back to a habit I established with the first novel: set a timer for 45 minutes each morning and begin, even if it means writing about the weather. For more on that trick and others, you can check out my list in Writer’s Digest: 9 Practical Tips for Finishing Your First Novel.
“The scarf I was wearing had been hand-colored a blunt red. It was tied around my neck like a choker, like a noose, but it wasn’t me who was about to hang.”
—A Small Indiscretion
Book-Bag-Scarf November Giveaway
Looking for a holiday gift for a voracious reader? As a thank you to all of you for subscribing to my newsletter, I’ll be holding a drawing for two holiday gift packages that include:
- a silk scarf in a color I like to call “Indiscretion Red”
- a sling-style book bag in black cotton canvas
- a copy of the hardcover of A Small Indiscretion, personally signed by yours truly
Cilck the red button below to enter (you don’t have to type anything, just click). We’ll draw two names in November, alert the winners by email, and announce them next month.
Thank you for reading and for cheering me on. See you in December, 50,000 words richer.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Jan