Sheryl Sorrentino

Who Will Clean Up Your Mess When You Die?

December 14, 2012
Death. The word alone sends shivers up our spines. It conjures images of faceless, hooded entities wielding calling-card scythes; fire and brimstone; and lonely graveyards on dark, thundery nights. But the reality is far more mundane, at least for those scurrying survivors who must make quick decisions about travel and funeral arrangements, and long-range ones about settling a loved one’s affairs.

The death of a close friend or family member is a time of upheaval and sorrow, one where we try to bring our “best game” to whatever challenges loom ahead. My brother’s untimely passing two weeks ago triggered an unplanned cross-country trip at the busiest time of year; nasty discussions about the pros and cons of cremation; and the seemingly-impossible task of finding a suit, underwear and socks in an empty house so cluttered with ten years’ worth of foodstuffs and hoarded paper goods, it could have doubled as a neighborhood mega-mart.

This started me thinking about the responsibility we each have in planning for our own eventual demise. We all know death is an inevitable part of life—the only variables being “when,” and “how”—not “if.” So why do so few of us take time to put our affairs in order? Do we think death will somehow elude us? That it won’t be our problem once the time comes? Or do we simply choose to bury our heads in the proverbial sand and not think about it at all?

While we all “front” to some degree during the daylight portion of our lives, our true colors inevitably reveal themselves in the harsh glare of nightfall. Only then does it become obvious whether we gave any real thought to the raw vulnerability of those we leave behind. No matter our age, there are appropriate steps we should take to prepare for our unavoidable transition from this earth, so as not to unduly burden our loved ones with excessive bills, preventable disagreements, extra work, and unwarranted stress. There are the obvious things we can and should do, like leaving a will, health care directive, and power(s) of attorney; designating direct beneficiaries for some or all of our financial accounts; and leaving clear instructions as to where to find important people and papers. But there are more subtle preparations we can and should make—tough conversations to be had with those closest to us about our wishes and preferences, and who within our extended circle of friends and professional colleagues should be contacted when our time comes.

And then there’s the pesky matter of stuff. How much dusty, accumulated junk will you leave behind for your devastated loved ones to sift through? Or, to put it another way, how much of their time will you rob with the daunting task of clearing out your worldly possessions? Ask yourself, too, whether you are leaving behind any bombshell surprises for them to find. Remember, death honors no “closely-guarded secrets;” your unsuspecting loved ones will uncover your skeletons while clearing out your closets during their darkest hour.

One needn’t dwell on death to comprehend its inescapable odds. You can opt for a haphazard “express check-out” from your earthbound motel, leaving it to those closest to you to pack and load your life’s baggage. Or, you can take a few simple steps every now and again to declutter, purge, and smooth their way through a predictably difficult time. The choice is yours, but like life itself, it won’t last forever.

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

Can Anyone Become a Victim of Abuse?

December 10, 2012
I recently re-released my second novel, An Unexpected Exile, a mostly lighthearted story about a mismatched couple who indulge a mutual sexual obsession while embroiled in a politically-charged culture clash. But it also deals with a much more serious issue: Domestic abuse.

My protagonist, Risa Weinberg, is not your stereotypical abuse victim. Self-centered, attractive, and financially independent, she is under no economic or social compunction to remain in a relationship with (much less marry) an abusive man. And yet, she stays with Arturo long after his aggressive tendencies become obvious and inevitably spin out of control.

Their relationship starts off innocently enough: Arturo is endearingly persistent; Risa is skeptically reserved. The first time they have sex, Arturo proves himself an expert and earnest lover. (To put it bluntly, he blows Risa away in bed.) Besides which, he is chivalrous and gentlemanly: He calls frequently, rushes over at a moment’s notice, and meets Risa at the bus stop after work each night to carry her bags.

But Risa detects an ambiguous undercurrent of control behind Arturo’s actions. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but Arturo’s behavior leaves her both flattered and vaguely unsettled. It gradually becomes clear that he uses sex as a tool to control and antagonize. And each overlooked infraction lays the groundwork for further escalation. In Arturo’s mind, to love a woman is to possess her, dominate her, and cleverly bully her. He’s a smart guy and a master of manipulation—even when disadvantaged by a language barrier. Little by little, he chips away at Risa’s self-confidence using a toxic brew of passionate sex and legitimate adoration.

An Unexpected Exile tells a cautionary tale of lust gone awry while exposing the darker side of romantic love. Granted, Arturo devolves into a bigger and bigger A-hole, and Risa makes poor decision after frustratingly poor decision as the story progresses. But these two are not supposed to be likeable characters; their starkly entertaining gambol into abusive territory is meant to sound a warning bell.

Perhaps Risa’s curiously low self-esteem is the real cause behind the predicament she finds herself in. But like many single women approaching thirty, her sense of worth is inextricably tied to her ability to “partner-up” before it’s too late. Never having found her perfect mate, she tries her hand at love with an imperfect one. But Arturo’s tumultuous passion quickly transforms into aggression—an unlucky trap that could ensnare virtually any woman, given such a perfect storm of well-aligned circumstances and innocent delusions. Like most women who participate in abusive relationships, Risa plays an equal role in this dysfunctional dance and must reckon with the consequences of her actions.

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

The Legend of Doofus O'Reilly, One Badass Cat

November 17, 2012
One week ago today, I had the gut-wrenching experience of having to euthanize my cat of nearly fifteen years. Sadly, he declined quickly the last month of his life, and sprouted an orange-sized tumor in less than a week. But he lived a good life of almost seventeen years’ duration, during which time that annoying, furry creature won my heart and earned my grudging respect.

His name was “Heathcliff” back in 1998 when I rescued him from my mother-in-law (who was about to return him to the pound to an uncertain fate). The name called to mind the passionate, tortured romantic in Wuthering Heights. But my husband equated it only with the wisecracking cat of Sunday funnies fame. Perhaps my little dude was a bit of both, but mostly he was a big, friendly nitwit. So my husband began calling him, “Doofus O’Reilly,” which I immediately transformed to a more dignified-sounding “Dreyfus.”

Dreyfus was a big, strong, good-looking guy with a soft white tummy and piercing green eyes. But he was more than just a pretty-boy: He had substance. Now that he’s gone, I’d like to impart some important life lessons he taught me during his short time on earth:

1. Passion equals happiness. So what if you're missing your claws? Use your mouth! Take risks! There are worlds to be conquered, tall walls to be scaled. We all have disabilities, both obvious and invisible. Adjust. Make do. But for God’s sake, go for it!

2. Freedom is everything—so stand your ground. Never let anyone push you around. You’ve got to fight for your rights, so learn how to make the most of what you’ve got. And remember, whenever you turn your back for a few seconds, others will come along and try to whittle away your freedom. So don’t forget to mark your territory each and every day, if only to let 'em know you're still here.

3. A little charm—and luck—go a long way. Bad things will happen, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still have fun. Even if you’re headed for the firing squad, bide your time and chill. Observe your tormentors. Then, when an opening presents itself, bob and weave, show off some moves. But whatever you do, draw some attention! Who knows? A sympathetic soul might happen along and notice you, and it only takes one savior to turn the whole damned thing around.

4. Be intractable, yet teachable. Life’s essentially a battle of wills. The successful ones often get where they are through sheer tenacity. But don’t break too many rules out of pure stubbornness, because if you jump on a forbidden kitchen counter or scuzz up the wrong bed one time too many, they’ll send you away. While you shouldn't let closed doors deter you, you still need to remain open. So allow others to impart their wisdom and civilize you every now and again. Walk the straight-and-narrow just enough to show ‘em you’re no dummy, then choose your battles wisely and hang tough till the bitter end.

5. Make friends, because your one “special person” can never be all things. Even those who love you most have their own lives to live and problems to solve. Give ‘em some space, and use those opportunities to hang with neighbors on their deck or commune with the cute calico next door. We’ve all got unmet needs. Friends can help fill in the gaps!

6. No matter what happens, forgive. Crazy bitch lady all stressed out and not paying attention to you? Get out of her way, then come back later and nuzzle. Vet turned you deaf? You’ve got every right to be furious; but eventually, you'll have to come around or else you'll be the one who's shunned. Life’s too short to stay mad, and nobody likes a sourpuss. So get over yourself already!

7. Never Go Down Without a Fight. Even when you’re sick; even when you’re old. Even if you’re doomed! Muster that last ounce of strength and courage, and show ‘em what you’re made of. Look death straight in the face, then try to claw and crawl your way out of its path. Someone or something is gonna kill you anyway, so whatever you do, don't make it easy! They’ll remember your final act long after you're gone. And that's the stuff legends are made of.

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

An Author's Confession

November 8, 2012
I have had a sad revelation. My second novel, An Unexpected Exile, isn’t as good as my other two. There, I’ve admitted it. I released AUE too impulsively, out of a misguided sense that I needed to quickly follow up my first book, Later With Myself: The Misadventures of Millie Moskowitz, with something “light” and “commercially marketable” (since Later With Myself so clearly isn’t either). But I’ve learned a few things since I wrote my first book, while the painstaking effort I put into my third novel, The Floater, taught me what it truly takes to produce my best work. I recognize that Later With Myself isn't as polished, perhaps; but it possesses something even more important: a sort of untouchable raw honesty you don't want to mess with.

A Goodreads friend and fan imparted these words of wisdom, originally spoken by Maya Angelou and popularized by Oprah Winfrey: “When you know better, you do better.” I know better than I did a year ago. Much as I hate to repeat that stupid writers’ mantra, “show, don’t tell,” AUE clearly suffers from an excess of telling. My third-person narrative is wooden and bombastic—too much of the lawyer in me seeping through to genuinely capture my protagonist’s fragile soul. When I re-read An Unexpected Exile, I feel like a mother observing her two-year-old who hasn’t yet spoken her first words. There she is, blessedly good-looking but hiding a squelched emotional complexity only a parent can appreciate. I know these admissions might be considered scandalous by the many “fronters” in this fake-it-or leave-it (a/k/a “fake-it-till-you-don’t-make-it”) world of self-publishing. But I offer myself—and my flawed second novel—as examples of works in progress.

Perhaps I shouldn't admit this about my own creation, but if a child of mine hadn’t uttered a sound after two years, would I allow shame or embarrassment keep me from helping her learn to express herself? No, I’d look inward first, to see whether I’d done something wrong. Then I’d do everything humanly possible to identify the problem and take corrective action to unleash her full potential. As a professional, I feel compelled to correct this baby's birth defects; as her mother, I believe An Unexpected Exile has the potential not only to speak, but to sing. A bit of an oddity, AUE's sociopolitical chick-lit that irreverently exposes the blurred lines between pleasure and abuse, lust and obsession, all in the context of a riotous inter-American culture clash. (Think, “Fifty Shades of Green Card.”) I brought her into this world prematurely, and as a result, she’s the “runt” in my litter of three. But she only needs a bit more love and attention to really shine. Not that she’ll ever be “marketable,” mind you. All three of my books suffer a doomed fate called “lack of widespread commercial appeal.” But I’m willing to accept my children for who they are. And popularity is highly overrated, if you ask me—in publishing as on the playground.

If you like my books, it won’t be because they are predictable or formulaic; it will be because each has something unique to say. I like to think my novels draw the curtain to offer a glimpse of compelling characters performing their particular, peculiar roles in this crazy script we call life. My writing (hopefully) provides the one-of-a-kind literary lighting, music, and backdrops to make them enjoyably entertaining; but—word of caution to the prim—don’t expect costume design, because my characters perform on stage in their underwear. Sometimes, they even strip naked.

An Unexpected Exile re-opens in a week or so. Give it a second chance; you might actually love it.

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

What the Self-Publishing World Needs

October 27, 2012

I came across this article in HuffPost Books yesterday while perusing Facebook (thank you, Glenda Bixler, for posting!): "Are Self-Publishing Authors Killing the Publishing Industry?" http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/10.... Its author, Melissa Foster, argues that we self-published types are “devaluing the written word” by selling our books so cheaply ($.99 to free as e-books), relying on “gimmicks” to gain sales, and having “mismanaged expectations.”

Allow me to offer the self-published author’s perspective:

1. Price: As anyone who has self-published through Amazon’s subsidiary, CreateSpace, knows, the price point for a typical, 300-some-odd-page paperback is between $12 and $15, if you want to earn a royalty north of pennies. Amazon takes a good chunk of change from each sale, as do the sellers in their “extended distribution” network (many of whom, it would seem, do not even report their sales back to Amazon). As unknown, untested authors, we are competing with mainstream best-sellers going for $8.99. So forgive us for trying to get a leg-up the only way possible, i.e., by competing in the e-book marketplace. (I've priced my Kindle downloads at just $1.49 for this very reason, and predictably, most of my own sales have been e-books, not paperbacks.)

2. "Gimmicks": Most people don't realize that self-published writers have no bricks-and-mortar distribution (unless we’re prepared to go door-to-door to Indie booksellers and twist their arms to stock a copy or three of our books on consignment), and we’re given no publicity (other than that which we can generate ourselves with our own time, effort, and money). So, yes, we need to get creative in order to get the word out. My good friend and fellow writer, Alretha Thomas, recently staged a “Wedding March” in which fifty-some-odd women of all shapes, sizes and colors dressed up in wedding gowns and paraded down the Santa Monica promenade to promote her novel, Married in the Nick of Nine. You cannot imagine the dedication, effort, and money that went into planning this event in order to attract a crumb of media coverage (she did get noticed by director Ron Howard, as well as local radio station KFWB!). So, if someone came up with the bright idea of giving away a Kindle to sell a few more books, I certainly cannot fault them. (I’m only mad I didn’t think of it myself.)

3. "Mismanaged Expectations": I agree that most—if not all—self-published authors go into this business pie-eyed and totally unrealistic. I foolishly thought my first book, Later With Myself: The Misadventures of Millie Moskowitz, would “go viral” and rescue me from the stress and soullessness of the legal profession. Boy, was I wrong! What it has done is give me an outlet to showcase a different set of more personally rewarding talents. Now, I am simply content to have my work read and recognized, and thankful that I (usually) earn enough money as a lawyer to support my (flimsy) literary marketing efforts. But far be it for me to judge anyone whose goals or dreams are more lofty than mine.

Where I wholeheartedly agree with Ms. Foster is in her assertion that self-published authors need to put out reputable, well-edited work. This has been a pet-peeve of mine from the beginning. The crap that floods the self-published marketplace gives all of us a bad rap and turns off many readers (rightfully so) to self-published books across the board. The frequent lack of editing or any other form of quality control muddies the waters to such a degree that those of us who might otherwise rise to the top find ourselves swimming uphill in an ocean sullied with sludge. But this is not surprising, given the limited resources and lack of professional contacts we self-published writers possess. What the self-publishing world really needs is an affordable screening process that could legitimize the work of those who actually have what it takes—something like a “Good Housekeeping Seal” for the self-published. (Hey, maybe I’ve just found my new calling!)

As for the “poor publishing industry,” perhaps when agents and traditional publishers are once again willing to take a chance on competent, talented new writers who have something different to say (and offer fair compensation to the more established ones who’ve developed a following but fall short of “superstar” status), the self-publishing world will become a last resort for those who probably shouldn’t be in this game in the first place. But that’s not going to happen any time soon. Unless you’re a celebrity or a politician, a genre writer (with vampire connections), or someone with an already-established following (reaped through self-publishing!), you will not be given the time of day from an agent. They might at least have the decency to tell us when we suck. As it is, they simply ignore us.

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

What's With the Pseudonym?

October 19, 2012
I recently reached out to media trying to pitch a by-lined article (that’s an article placed in a print or Internet outlet where credit is given to the author, along with a nice “plug” about his or her book). I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that virtually no one answered (they never do), but I was surprised by the one response I did get:

“O why the pseudonym. If YOU have something to say, say it. Otherwise shut up.”

Ouch! The original message was riddled with typos and misspellings (e.g., “pseodnymn”), but that didn't strike me so much as the sheer hostility embedded within these few words. This publisher’s utter lack of professionalism aside, I felt this guy deserved an answer. After all, here I was pitching a piece on racism to mainly Black publications. I could see why a Black man (I’d assumed he was Black) might be offended by an obviously white woman writing such an article behind the protective veil of a pseudonym. So I apologized for offending him, and explained myself.

As many of you know, I’ve been an attorney for nearly 25 years and am my family’s sole breadwinner. The law gig pays the bills, so I choose to keep my livelihood separate from my writing “career” (which is more in the nature of an unpaid labor of love). When people Google me looking for an attorney, I want them to find my law practice, not my fledgling fiction.

I made the decision to use a pseudonym when I released my first novel, Later With Myself: The Misadventures of Millie Moskowitz. This story, while fictional, is highly personal and discloses many embarrassing facts about my own childhood and my (now deceased) father’s life. However, it wasn’t intended as a “tell-all” memoir; I admittedly tried to safeguard my family's privacy and avoid damaging my professional reputation if the book wasn't well-received. At the same time, I wanted to honor my mother’s memory by publishing my story under her maiden name. Since then, I have developed a modest following as "Sheryl Sorrentino," and now consider it something of a "brand."

One bright spot on “Sheryl Sorrentino’s” uphill journey to literary stardom was when the Midwest Book Review requested a copy of The Floater back in August. However, despite several diligent follow-ups on my part, they have since ignored me. Meanwhile, I regularly check the MBR website to see whether, by sheer miracle, they posted a review of my book. During one such neurosis-driven search, I stumbled upon the following, under their “Getting Reviews for Self-Published Books” tab:

“By the way . . . an author who writes using anything but his or her own name, an artist, actor, musician etc that uses anything but their own names are lying and 'cheating'.” [Sic]

I resisted the urge to edit these grammatically questionable lines and email my improved version to their Editor-in-Chief because, more to the point, MBR apparently won’t review my brilliant third novel, simply because it is pseudonymous! With all the other obstacles I have faced trying to get recognized as a talented, self-published writer, now you're gonna tell me there's some sort of stigma to using a pseudonym? Tell that to Mark Twain, Anne Rice, George Orwell, Lewis Carroll, Pablo Neruda, Ayn Rand, Joseph Conrad, and J.K. Rowling (real name, Joanne Rowling—the “K” doesn’t stand for anything)! http://www.11points.com/Books/11_Auth...

As for my by-lined article, the newspaper man who sent that email turned out to be white, Jewish and widowed. He located my picture online and said I was “cute.” He wanted to “pen pal a bit”—even told me about his “hobbies/passions.” I guess it’s easier for a 50-year-old woman to land a man than a break in this lousy business. Too bad I’m not in the market for a "virtual boyfriend;" maybe then he might have published my article!

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

Let's Have a "Look Inside" . . . at the Author's Note!

October 12, 2012
This week, The Floater got the best birthday gift I could have imagined, an endorsement from New York Times bestselling author Ken Morris (writer of financial thrillers Man in the Middle and Deadly Trade, as well as Blind Allegiance to Sarah Palin). He called The Floater “The Rocky of legal dramas,” and remarked that “attorney and protagonist Norma Reyes . . . is often beaten down but never knocked out." It gets better: "Gritty and necessarily graphic, The Floater is a well-written and spellbinding ride through Lilly Ledbetter-glass ceilings and racial barriers. Shocking, uplifting, and enlightening, The Floater is a dramatic tour de force."

Wow. What more could I have possibly hoped for? (Okay, how about three or four more in-depth reviews popping up on Goodreads and Amazon—each of them displaying a sensitive grasp of my story and contributing unique insights to the collective conversation The Floater now seems to be generating? Check and done!)

But getting back to Mr. Morris, he also mentioned that he thinks the “Author’s Note” posted in the “Look Inside” feature on Amazon is ill-advised and might deter sales. Hmmm. This is the second time I have included a note at the end of one of my books to offer background information about my story, clarification of certain material contained in the book, and a personal message to readers. In this case, as a result of early feedback from test readers suggesting that the descriptions of “raw sex” and references to excrement contained within The Floater's pages might be troubling to some, I chose to elucidate my reasons for including explicit scenes that leave little to the imagination.

Perhaps in light of Mr. Morris's observation, my end note could use a re-thinking, but that begs the bigger question of whether comments I intended solely for actual readers of my book should be displayed on Amazon for the entire world to see. Know that I, as the author, get no say as to what Amazon decides to display on its site. In fact, they have twice screwed me over with their poor choices in this regard—first, by posting the Epilogue to Later With Myself: The Misadventures of Millie Moskowitz, thereby giving away the ending, and now by printing the final pages of The Floater and thereby divulging—to quote Mr. Morris—"a spoiler of sorts" and my “sort-of apology” for some of The Floater's more graphic scenes.

Pondering the appropriateness of using "author's notes" to elucidate and explain a writer's intentions, I did some quick online research. According to the blog, Ink Splatters - LuCarly’s Fan Fiction Journal (http://lucarly.livejournal.com/3993.html), “the author's note is basically the author communicating to their readers and letting them know any information they should know.” And a contributor to the website Writer’s Beta commented, “I personally love it when an author takes the time to put an ‘author's note’ into the book. it makes it feel so much more like they're writing it for you.” (http://writers.stackexchange.com/ques...)

While I remain convinced that my note is both suitable and warranted, I liken it to the words a woman might whisper to her lover following an especially rousing tumble in the hay (“Sorry I farted in your face, darling, but your stunning cunnilingus performance made me lose all control.”) Such intimacies are never intended—or appropriate—before the shared act; only after someone has invested their time and effort in partaking of our imperfect delicacies do they earn such heartfelt requests for understanding and acceptance.

Calls to the publisher (Createspace) and Amazon provide no redress. Each claims not to be responsible for the selection of material. I was told I can reduce my “Look Inside” sample (with no guarantee which portion will be eliminated), or remove the “Look Inside” feature altogether (not a good option, since many prospective buyers—myself included—rely on these samples to gauge a writer’s talent and decide whether his or her ramblings deserve any further investment of time).

So, beware fellow self-publishers: If you’ve got spoilers, secrets or other sweet-nothings intended only for the faithful, these are all fair game for unauthorized disclosure on Amazon. I feel a bit “busted” right now—like Mitt Romney must have felt after his shameful “47%” comment got plastered all over the Internet. (And just as my personal "Author’s Note" might cost me a few prospective purchasers, I hope Romney’s remarks give voters something sobering to consider between now and election day.)

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

On Growing Wings and Learning to Walk

October 4, 2012
The Floater is two months old today. I would have likened the release of my latest book to pushing a baby bird out of the nest. Perhaps in the best of worlds, this would be true—I’d give it a little shove, and it would fly away on ever-strengthening wings. (Unless it’s weak or ill-conceived, in which case, I’d watch in horror as it floundered, then crashed to the ground.)

But I now see why launching a book is often compared to the birth of a baby. You force this thing—this newly liberated being—out into the world while it is still entirely dependent on the tireless commitment of its creator for survival. Hopefully, after about a year or so, it begins to totter on its own wobbly legs. (Unless it is defective, in which sad case that “baby” might never walk on its own.) If a particular story strikes a well-balanced chord, it will resonate and find a new place in the world. Eventually, this thing becomes an independent entity that takes off in directions of its own making.

But like a child, a novel is molded and influenced by those who interact with it along the way. Publishing a book is only the beginning—like sending your little one off to school. It is the reviewers, bloggers and media who essentially define what a book is (and isn’t). Although for better or worse, my words are now imprinted on 356 pages of text, my story is anything but stagnant. In a very real sense, it is a living, breathing entity that will take on the energies and opinions of those who bother to read and remark on it. Each time a reviewer focuses on a particular angle or espouses a unique viewpoint, The Floater becomes a bit of that thing. And just like a child in school, positive comments reinforce her ability to flourish in the universe, whereas negative ones (think of the kid who is labeled “slow” or “stupid”) will cause her to flounder. It is a fascinating, painstaking, and unpredictable maturation process that is now largely out of my hands.

As I watch my baby float toward earth with furiously flapping wings, I pray she lands safely on two feet, and not with a splat. (And I hope it doesn’t take her twenty-some-odd years to get there!) For assisting The Floater on her journey toward solid ground, I owe a world of thanks to Dawn Paul of Houston Style Magazine (http://www.stylemagazine.com/attorney...) for her wonderful article and keen positioning (“Attorney and Author Puts a Different Spin on the Legal Fictional Novel”); to Elizabeth and Shannon, the first bloggers to post their perspectives in Don’t Take My Books Away http://donttakemybooksaway.wordpress.... and Giraffe Days (http://www.giraffedays.com/?p=14171); and to Hispanically Speaking News (http://www.hispanicallyspeakingnews.c...) for its early coverage. Special thanks go to my publicist, Lauren Covello of Smith Publicity, without whose insights and efforts this media attention would not have happened. And most importantly, here's wishing my girl, Norma, a happy birthday!

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

On Giving Bad Reviews

September 28, 2012
And by “bad,” I don’t mean poorly-written (that’s a subject for another day). I mean those scathing one- and two-star reviews some people post when they didn’t enjoy a book for whatever reason. Now, I have no problem stating my case if I don't like a particular book. But when faced with the pesky dilemma of whether to imprint an already negative review with fewer than three stars, I have recently found myself unable to do it. Having been on the receiving end of a few such critiques, a one or two-star branding feels like the final twist of a knife that's already been bloodied from ripping a fellow author’s innards to shreds.

It’s quite easy to trash someone else’s work from the cushy comfort and privileged anonymity of the reader’s armchair. But like anything else we do in life, it pays to be mindful of our motivation and—whenever possible—kind in our delivery. It is therefore important when voicing our views to first examine our motives. Are we being deliberately catty, inflammatory, and unkind in order to fan the flames of dissent for its own sake? Or do we wish to share well-reasoned opinions in an attempt to broaden a discussion and better inform others of otherwise unexamined viewpoints?

I will admit that if I find myself not enjoying a popular book, I'll seek out one- and two-star reviews to see whether anyone else felt the same way. And if I am debating whether to read a book, I’ll definitely check out a few bad reviews (along with several good ones) to see if they strike a chord, as they often tend to be more honest than the syrupy five-star postings from friends and fans.

But if there’s one thing the backlash from that recent “anti-Mohammed” film, Innocence of Muslims, has taught me, it’s that even one person’s negative opinion can have far-reaching emotional and tangible impact. Putting aside for the moment my puzzlement over why a crude, amateur video should carry such weight among the faithful (unless there is no such thing as a rational, psychologically secure “true believer” ), careless comments can hurt and inflame those emotionally invested in a particular subject matter. And lest we forget, no one is more irrationally invested in a work of fiction than the author herself.

Having now traveled the path of self-published novelist thrice over, I find myself unable to damn another's work with just one or two stars. I’ll admit it’s tempting when faced with a traditionally-published but really bad book that is generating a lot of hype (think Fifty Shades of Grey—which I have not read, but for which I have imbibed an unavoidably strong whiff from ubiquitous blogs and reviews). Joining the ranks of tortured writers has opened my eyes to how painfully difficult—and just how brave—it is to place one’s blood and guts on paper for the entertainment and appraisal of others. So from now on, if I don’t like a book enough to give it at least three stars, I think I’ll hold my tongue. I’ll leave the one- and two-star reviews to the "haters" among us (of which there will always be plenty). Now I understand why my mother admonished, “If you haven't got something nice to say, don’t say anything at all!”

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 

Musings on Motherhood and Nakedness

September 21, 2012
I made my daughter try on some mail-order bras last night, which was a battle unto itself. My daughter is going through—shall we say—an uncooperative stage, so anything I ask her to do is typically met with resistance. I consider this fairly normal behavior for a twelve-year-old, and try not to let it upset me.

But to my dismay, this atypical peek at her unclad upper body revealed a pretty bad case of bacne (you know, those horrible, pimply bumps that can mysteriously sprout up across one’s upper back). I mentioned this to my husband a little later, thinking we’d discuss the best cream or ointment to clear it up. Instead, he became upset—with me! He as much as accused me of being a bad mother because I do not have the type of relationship with our adolescent daughter where I regularly see her naked.

True, we have had some issues with pre-teen cleanliness in the past. But my daughter is very private where her body is concerned, and I have deliberately chosen to respect that. I have taught her all about feminine hygiene, and from there, I have trusted her. I assume that if something is wrong, she will let me know—and let me see. Until then, I see no need for jailhouse-like cavity searches or strip-downs. Does this make me a neglectful mother? I’d really love it if readers would leave a comment and weigh in.

As a female, I understand all-too-well the angst and humiliation that surround adolescence and the myriad physical and emotional changes it entails. The notion of my own mother inspecting my naked twelve-year-old body against my will makes me cringe. My mom never did that to me. But my husband’s reaction got me thinking—had she been a “neglectful” mother? So I asked my hubby whether his mother had conducted regular bodily inspections on either of his two sisters, and he admitted that she had not, at least not to his knowledge. But then he pointed out that she, too, had been less-than-stellar in her mothering.

Boy-oh-boy. I know people love to point the finger at mothers for virtually all the world’s ills, but that got me wondering, am I fulfilling a legacy of maternal neglect with my own daughter? Do other mothers of twelve-year-old girls share a physical closeness that my daughter and I lack? My maternal grandmother died in childbirth when my mother was only three years old, so she was raised largely without maternal affection or care. Somehow, despite this, she managed to turn out loving to a fault. But—and this is a big but—she wasn’t especially attentive or effective in her parenting. I’d always assumed this was because she was overwhelmed with three rowdy kids and a cheating, abusive husband. But perhaps she simply didn’t know how. Could it be that, as a result of my own inadequate upbringing, I am falling short as a parent myself?

I have always treated nudity as a normal part of life—and par for the course in my household. I’ve tried to set an example for my daughter of being comfortable in my own skin (no matter how flabby or wrinkly it may be). While I do not parade around the house in the buff, neither do I act ashamed if she happens to walk in on me undressing, and I certainly have no problem with her seeing me in my underwear. More importantly, I have always spoken candidly with my daughter about our shared female body parts and their respective functions.

Last night, I licked my marital wounds while swathing calamine lotion on my daughter’s back. Today, I will rub it with alcohol and sprinkle some menthol-y medicated powder on top. If that doesn’t work, I’ll ask her pediatrician for the name of a good dermatologist. But I still see no compelling reason to subject my daughter to impromptu inspections or bathroom barge-ins; I will continue to respect her personal space and bodily privacy to the degree she wants. I think this sends an extremely important message—one that many girls on this planet do not receive—that our female bodies belong to us and us alone. We need not display them for anyone else on demand, and we certainly need not be touched when or where we don’t want. Sure, as a mother, I get to break these rules every now and again if my child's health or safety is at issue. Nonetheless, when all is well, I see no need for routine psychic intrusions. If that somehow makes me a bad mom, then I stand guilty as charged.

Posted by Sheryl Sorrentino.

 
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Sheryl Sorrentino: Real Fiction for Real Women™


Sheryl Sorrentino is a practicing attorney by day who unexpectedly discovered her passion for writing after learning of a long-deceased half-brother in 2007. She is the author of five novels (Later With Myself: The Misadventures of Millie Moskowitz; An Unexpected Exile; The Floater; Stage Daughter and Stop & Frisk) with a sixth (Smarter Than That) slated for release Spring of 2017. She lives with her husband and teenage daughter in the San Francisco Bay Area. You can learn more about Sheryl Sorrentino by visiting her Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/sheryl.sorrentino#!/pages/Sheryl-Sorrentino/249323025094995. Follow Sheryl on Twitter at @SherylSorrentin.

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