Tag: books

Production Draft!

~ M. L. Rio

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So, it’s been pretty quiet here for a while, and that’s because I’ve been hard at work on the last revisions for Villains. And with the help of copious amounts of coffee and five (count ’em, five) different editions of King Lear, I got my final final draft turned in to my editor today! Which means that we’re one step closer to the finish line. There’s still a lot to be done, but now that the text itself can be handed over to copy editors, we get to start talking about fun stuff like art and blurbs and rough front. More soon.

Let me tell you why the new Norton Shakespeare should be at the top of your Christmas list.

~ M. L. Rio

I’ve always been a Riverside girl. I spent hours with my face buried in a much beloved (and very patient) director’s copy until my parents bought me my very own to celebrate my high school graduation. I was ecstatic to find a gently used copy here in London after leaving my own at home. The Riverside–my Shakespearean security blanket–will probably always have a place on my shelf and in my heart. (We’re talking Shakespeare here. I’m allowed to be a little sentimental.)

But last night, I and the other MA candidates in Shakespeare Studies at King’s College London were invited to attend the launch party for the Norton Shakespeare Third Edition, and let me just tell you, I might be a convert. After Stephen Greenblatt (the general editor on this project and a name you should know if you’re in the Bardly business) gave us the background of this remarkable book, KCL’s very own Gordon McMullan got up to give us a digital tour. That may not sound exciting, but I and–judging by the small stifled gasps of excitement and murmurs “Oh my God, this is everything I’ve ever wanted” from the row behind me–my fellow graduate students were absolutely gobsmacked. Jaws on the floor. I’m fairly certain a few of us were on the verge of tears. Why? Because Norton has literally changed the face of Shakespeare scholarship.

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In his brief speech, Professor Greenblatt said something that stuck with me. To fully experience Shakespeare, he explained, you need two things: wonder and resonance. Of course, in a room full of academics resonance is paramount. We have to understand what we’re reading–not only linguistically, but culturally, historically, metaphysically, [insert adverb of your choice here]. And the new Norton edition, with textual and performance and editorial notes and timelines and illustrations and family trees amassed by an army of amazing editors, has more than made that possible. But their commitment to preserving the wonder of Shakespeare’s words is equally important. Instead of the cramped, claustrophobic two-or-three-column text we’re used to seeing in any hard copy of the Complete Works (usually printed, as Greenblatt joked, on ‘cigarette paper,’) the Norton Third Edition presents a clean page, in one column, with minimally intrusive footnotes. The Complete Works is not usually what I reach for when I want to curl up and revisit my favorite scenes of Merchant of Venice purely for pleasure, but Norton may have changed that. For the first time we have a Complete Works where the wonder doesn’t get buried by the resonance.

You might be wondering how useful such a streamlined book is really going to be. Sure, it might make for a more pleasant reading experience, but aren’t you sacrificing function for form? Luckily for us, Norton refused to make that compromise–and this is where the digital edition comes in.

Any purchase of the Norton Third Edition includes a unique registration code to access and download the digital edition. And as someone who’s been combing through the content for the better part of four hours, let me tell you, that it is absolutely worth it. Norton has brought Shakespeare into the digital age. Of course, all of the texts have been available online since the advent of the internet, but never like this. Norton’s Bookshelf application provides the user with an absolutely dizzying array of features, all (somehow) without sacrificing that clean, beautiful interface that keeps the wonder intact. With the digital edition you get not two versions of Hamlet, but four. You can look at the different Quarto pages of Romeo and Juliet side by side. You can even click on First Folio facsimiles, voice recordings, and pertinent performance notes, all tucked neatly in the margins. You can click on troublesome words for definitions, you can take notes and place bookmarks and highlight in three different colors. Don’t want to do any of that? You can hide it all have nothing but the words on a plain white screen if you feel your wonder starting to waver.

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I don’t mind admitting that I was one of those dramatically gasping graduate students. It’s difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t spend their days immersed in Shakespeare how truly revolutionary this is. It’s like having the Folger and the Globe and all their combined resources in your pocket. Something so comprehensive and exciting and easy to use is not only going to keep legions of graduate students from sobbing over their dissertations because they have to visit twelve different libraries just to access the resources they need. It’s also going to make Shakespeare accessible in an unprecedented way to a whole new generation of students and researchers and educators and theatre practitioners. The potential is unlimited.

I think it’s safe to say that Norton has done something tremendous here. They’ve not only given us Shakespeare, but they’ve given us Shakespeare for the twenty-first century, and to their eternal credit, they’ve kept both the wonder and the resonance intact. It’s a brave new world.

#TenThingsNotToSayToAWriter

~ M. L. Rio

This hashtag is currently trending on Twitter, and while most of the writers in the Twittersphere are using it to vent their frustration, some words of wisdom have also come up in discussion. One of the most common complaints among writers seems to be that people who don’t write assume, as soon as you identify yourself as a writer, that writing is merely a hobby–something you do because you have enough money or enough free time that you don’t have to hold a “real” job.  In my experience it’s been almost exactly the opposite. Writing is my real job, and anything else I’ve done to make money has simply served to support my fledgling career as a writer. Understandably, it’s annoying when anyone says, “So you’re not working.”

What’s most interesting to me about this discussion is the criteria the general public assigns to “real” writers. The line of inquiry to determine whether or not you’re a real writer usually goes something like this: “So you’re a writer. Anything I would have read? Why haven’t I heard of you? Can I buy it on Amazon?” Basically, unless you’ve been on a New York Times Bestseller list, you don’t get to call yourself a writer without being given the third degree on a daily basis. Someone watching the debate unfold was curious enough to ask Joanne Harris–author of Chocolat and Gentlemen and Players (a personal favorite of mine), among others–why these questions are perceived as rude. Her answer was pithy and on point:

“If someone tells you they’re a professional writer, it’s generally impolite to then assume it’s a hobby…”

What, then, should be the benchmark for a “real” writer? Publication? Sales? Certainly there’s a difference between a published novelist and someone who’s writing Star Trek fanfiction in their spare time. But how do we make the distinction? Harris goes on to explain that it may be more complicated than Twitter has, thus far, been willing to allow. The simple act of writing doesn’t necessarily make you a writer, but you don’t have to be J. K. Rowling to call yourself a writer either. There’s a difference, she says, between learning to think of yourself as a writer, and telling other people that’s what you are:

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Perhaps it’s time we start approaching the term “writer” with fluidity in mind. If you write, indeed, you are a writer. It’s not unlike being an athlete–it’s something you can do and call yourself without receiving any sort of paycheck, or something you can make millions doing and add the designation of “professional” to the title. But until such a time comes when the terminology is clearer, let’s try giving writers the benefit of the doubt. If someone identifies themselves to you as a writer, it’s likely that’s they’ve gone through at least part of the process Joanne Harris is talking about. They’re confident enough in their craft to call themselves a writer, and they probably don’t do it lightly. So, if you’re curious, avail yourself of the #TenThingsNotToSayToAWriter tag on Twitter, have a good laugh, and know what questions not to ask next time you find yourself face to face with another inkslinger.

Announcing my first novel!

~ M. L. Rio

So thrilled to share the news that my first novel, If We Were Villains,  is going to be published by Flatiron Books–an imprint of Macmillan–sometime in the next year or so.

This book has been my life for almost two years now, and after so much writing, editing, revising, and so many long conversations with my fabulous agent at DCL, I’m both thrilled and humbled to say that this story is coming to life! I’m so lucky to be working with Flatiron Books, and between my wonderful agent and now my equally wonderful editor, I couldn’t have asked to be in better hands. We’ve got a long way to go yet, but I can’t even articulate how exciting it is to be taking the next step down the road to publication.

More soon!

M