Because I can do better, that's why

I've never shared this story except with my family and a couple of my writer pals, but I did something rather unusual after turning in my last contracted manuscript to my Harlequin "Love Inspired" editor: I admitted that I didn't believe what I had given her was my very best work.

I'd been laboring under a tight deadline, and I'd run out of time. So the day before it was due, I overnighted my manuscript to New York City. It wasn't perfect, but I figured that was okay because my editor was bound to ask for one or two small revisions. When I addressed those, I'd have an opportunity to tighten up the story. And then by the time I mailed in the revised manuscript, I'd have produced a novel I was as proud of as I was of my first three books.

Things didn't go according to my plan. My editor called to say that she "loved" the book and that she was sending off the paperwork so somebody would cut me a check for the "on manuscript acceptance" portion of my advance.

What followed was the most humbling experience of my career. I admitted to my editor that I wasn't satisfied with the manuscript I'd sent her. Then I asked if I could have it back for two weeks.

Not necessary, she said. I love the book you've written.

But I can do better, I insisted. Please let me have it back.

She was plainly shocked. She was very familiar with authors requesting deadline extensions, but I gathered it was the first time an author had asked for a manuscript back after she had accepted the final submission. She tried to talk me down from what she no doubt believed to be an odd case of nerves for a previously-published author, but in the end she gave me two more weeks. I worked twelve- and sixteen-hour days, but when I sent that puppy back to New York, I was happy with it.

That book, At His Command, was published in the autumn of 2008. While it's my least favorite of all my books (because it was Book Three of a six-author "continuity series", and I had to weave in subplots and minor characters that appeared in the other books), I'm still very proud of it.

Those of us who aren't kids anymore can remember the TV commercials Orson Welles did for Paul Masson wines some thirty years ago: "We will sell no wine before its time." Well, I promised you all a brand new novel this month, and the month is almost over. Until this morning, I still thought I could pull this off: I'd simply run through the manuscript one more time to check for typos, and then I'd spend the next couple of days formatting and uploading it to Amazon's Kindle Store and Barnes and Noble's Nook catalogue and so on. But I've been uneasy about this planned release for the past week or so, and my conscience is now demanding that I give the book some more time.

Look, I know I don't belong on stage with the world's best romance writers. But I like to think I'm a decent writer who has occasional flashes of brilliance, and more than a thousand of you (yes, really!) have written or e-mailed to tell me that you have enjoyed my novels. So please take me at my word when I say this new book is simply not finished yet. "Good enough" is not good enough for me, and I don't think it's good enough for you, either. So if it takes two more weeks or even a whole month of polishing to make sure this novel is the best I'm capable of offering you, then I am going to take that time.

Your understanding and patience will be very much appreciated. If you want to follow my progress, be sure to watch this blog and my Facebook page.

Getting published the quick and easy way

More and more aspiring authors are abandoning the rocky path to winning contracts from publishers and are hopping on the bus to self-publication. If you haven't heard traditionally-published authors grumbling about that, you just haven't been paying attention. "That's not publication," one of my fellow Harlequin authors sniffed after learning that our mutual acquaintence had paid to have her novel made into a softcover book. "All she did was have her manuscript printed and bound."

But that is publication, albeit of the do-it-yourself variety. And what's wrong with that?

Plenty, according to many of my traditionally-published friends. "She's self-published," they'll sneer, implying that the writer in question is unworthy to call herself a published author. "Real" authors will scratch out the upstarts' eyes sooner than they'll make room on their pedestals for those who have "cheated" in the publication game and declared themselves winners.

Maybe we traditionally-published authors should get over ourselves. It makes our profession look ridiculous when we preen and all but beg to be adored. Our attempts to elevate ourselves in the eyes of the world by pointing out the unworthiness of self-published authors to share our pedestal is mean, and few things are as pathetic as our childish insistence on receiving the full measure of adulation we believe we have earned by selling books to traditional publishing houses.

So what if "just anybody" can call herself an author these days? How does that hurt those of us who get published the hard way? It's not as though self-published romance novels are going to knock our books off the shelves at Target and WalMart.

I am not endorsing self-published books. Self-published books are notorious for being poorly written and badly (or completely un-) edited. My neighbor's cat could write a novel tonight and publish it tomorrow--which is, in a nutshell, the reason I don't read self-published books. But I'll defend Fluffy's right to find her own way into print, and I won't bristle when she calls herself a published author. My self-esteem does not hinge on anybody's work but my own.

Maybe I'm sensitive to this issue because even before I started writing, I never put authors on pedestals. To me, they were professionals not terribly unlike dentists or schoolteachers. Yes, getting published the old-fashioned way requires talent, dedication and hard work. But aren't those the essential ingredients for success in most other careers? Being a traditionally-published author may not be as common an occupation as being an accountant, but in my experience, the only people who view authors as a higher order of humankind are authors.

I wish traditionally-published authors would stop lording it over the rest of the world--and by the rest of the world I mean those who aspire to be published and those who are self-published. If Fluffy the cat wants to print ten copies of her novel and call herself published, so what? I submit that any traditionally-published author who has a problem with Fluffy trying to horn in on our "glory" has an ego sorely in need of a little healthy deflation.