You will be unsurprised to read that I think my books are good. If you know me well, or any author well, you will probably also be unsurprised to read that I have difficulty stating openly that I think my books are good. However, I realised today that waiting for people to ask before I tell them is missing an opportunity; not to sell my books, but to do something much more important.
Greenstar Season 3 is almost ready. Simon and I have finished the final proofing, so I’m preparing versions of the print inner and ebooks for release. Which means skimming the text again for sneaky formatting and typesetting errors.
While Season 3 is a comedy, it’s not all slapstick and giggles. One moment in particular made me tear up when we wrote it. And again when I did the first edit. And again when I did the polishing. So, if the scene still gets me on the umpteenth read-through, it must be good, right?
But, that isn’t the inference I’m hoping you’ll draw today.
I didn’t have to pick that scene to make my point. I could have picked a scene that still makes me laugh despite reading the joke three times in the space of a day looking for errant commas. But I didn’t. I picked the one that made me cry.
And not just cry: cry about something that wasn’t real; cry about something that I could change by typing a few words.
I chose that scene because there is a belief in Western society that men aren’t allowed to cry.
So, I’m pushing back. I’m a lawyer with a string of court wins under my belt, so not weak or insignificant, and I’m fine with publicly stating I sometimes cry at sad things.
Sometimes I don’t, and that’s fine too.
But sometimes I cry, without losing any claim to being a man.