This Canadian program was very lively and, I think, constructive. Such perky hosts! Please click the image to the left to hear the audio. (I come on at about 24:50.) Excerpt below:

“Ultimately, [What About the Boy?] is an honest depiction of what can happen when you refuse to accept a narrow range of unpleasant options and instead gamble everything on your determination to prove ‘em all wrong. You see, the idea that motivated Judy and me was that we were going to beat this thing. Our boy was going to be OK. When we set out to do that, we enjoyed some very upbeat, optimistic times, and we achieved exciting things with our son. Seeing him walk for the first time, when he was 39 months old, was one of the high points of my life. But in the end we also paid a price, and the book shows that side of the coin, as well. Whether we made bad choices, whether the professionals should have provided better guidance—these are questions readers can decide for themselves. But in short this is about what happens, and ways of responding, when you have a challenge that is resistant to your best efforts to overcome it.”

Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.

— As You Like It, Act II. Scene I

My dad was fond of tossing off quotations from the classics, and this one was probably his favorite. Or maybe I heard it a lot because I spent too much time telling him about my problems. My response to this philosophy was probably a bored shrug.

In those days I knew a little about adversity, knew we all encounter difficult patches (or worse) in life, knew not to indulge in self-pity when events failed to follow my script. But I didn’t see the point of looking for silver linings. Resolution was the thing that interested me.

That’s why, when I became the father of a baby who had major problems, it never once occurred to me to look on the bright side. My kid depended on me! Quite obviously, he needed something that wasn’t being provided. The doctors weren’t losing any sleep trying to understand the situation. The only remaining line of defense was his mother and me. So we devoted the next several years to the challenge of setting things right.

That response still makes sense to me. All of us take steps to deal with our problems. If we have a toothache, we go to the dentist. If we’re lonely, we seek out friends. If we don’t have enough money, we save or try to get more.

So far, so good, but not all problems have such obvious remedies. What do we do when Plan A fails? Do we just try harder? Do we attack from some new direction?

Sometimes the thing never goes away.

Ultimately, that is why I thought What About the Boy? needed to be written. Not just because one kid in six has a developmental problem of one sort or another, but because people untouched by disability have other difficulties that they may argue are even worse. While some lives are easier than others, no one has much reason to feel complacent. I don’t mean for this to bring you down, but if trouble isn’t besetting you right now, it’s coming. It’s on the exit ramp from the freeway. Don’t be surprised when it shows up.

So when someone suggests that my book might be for only a very narrow, niche market, I feel stumped. “Wait!” I want to yell. “I forgot to tell you about the vampires!”

Of course, reading fantasy (or humor, adventure, etc.) can be a nice diversion that empowers us to come back and cope with our issues a little longer. I have no argument with that. It’s just that I wanted to do more than cope. I wanted to win.

My son Joseph achieved significant improvements. His quality of life today is measurably better because of the interventions his mother and I pursued.

But we wanted more. We believed–I still believe–that it was reasonable, right, and just to want more, to claim more, to expect more. We believed a full recovery was his birthright.

When we could not bring that about via human resources, we listened to people who showed us Scripture promising that God answers prayers. We didn’t want to hear other interpretations, those extolling the virtues of patience, fortitude, even brokenness.

This problem broke us. Judy died. My own life then took an unexpected course and–as a direct result of Joseph’s disability–has been transformed in remarkable ways. And yet I still fail to see how this is in Joseph’s interests.

I hope the story in WATB illustrates the importance of taking a stand when doing so seems right. I expect readers will see that, over time, devotion to a good cause may not always inspire the use of good sense. But I feel that something more is yet to be learned here. Maybe I’m still too close to it.

Although I’d much prefer not to single out anyone’s writing in this way, the following bit of promotional copy for a self-published novel illustrates a problem that’s doing a lot of damage. I found this on a nicely printed postcard next to a display copy of the book in question, and the first paragraph grabbed my attention. Apparently, the book it describes is a somewhat cerebral thriller tied in with recent history. Reading it, I felt a tug of interest. This book might be good!

Then came the second paragraph on the card, which begins:

Struggling with his own disillusionments and staying out of danger, _____’s search for the original treaty is complicated by his intense attraction to a Spanish dancer while at the same time being pulled closer to the woman who’s been in his life…

I reacted to that sentence as if it were badly played music. It destroyed the interest that the first paragraph had created.

Surely I’m not the only one who’ll respond this way. There’s a time for overlooking flaws in execution. (A children’s music recital comes to mind.) But someone offering work for sale to the public is held to a higher standard. And a writer’s ad copy for it is supposed to represent his very best efforts. Given the enormous number of competing books available to read, it must shine. If it doesn’t, readers have little incentive to venture further. I felt disappointed. I’d been in the mood to discover something new and exciting.

In view of the preference that that the mainstream publishing industry has for the tried-and-true (e.g., clones of the last bestseller, writers who already have an established fan base), we can’t count on it for anything new and exciting. More so than in the past, indie authors have an important role to fill.

Actually, just a few moments earlier that evening, I’d been discussing this very problem. My friend Lynda (author of Writing for the Web) and I were discussing books with a new acquaintance at a reception. I mentioned that many indie writers have wonderful imaginations, original stories, engaging points of view—and I admire that, since I don’t view my own writing as being particularly creative—but they blow it all by failing to pay attention to basic questions of grammar and delivery. I know I’m not alone here. In the blog post cited below, Mary Kay Shanley observes that “most self-published books would be wonderful first drafts.” No doubt, that’s why the San Diego County Library does not accept self-published books for its collection, even as gifts.

In other words, there’s a tendency to generalize and make assumptions, even without reading a book’s promotional copy or opening pages. Poor quality is not confined to self-published works. However, that’s where the world is learning to expect it.

The lady with whom I shared my feelings about this agreed politely, and then pinned my ears back by saying, “Too bad they can’t all be like us.”

I don’t mean to hold up my own writing as some kind of standard. If you want deathless prose (the stuff Alexander Pope described as being “what oft was thought but ne’er so well expressed”), look elsewhere. The point is just that the simple communication of ideas, feelings, moods, and experiences is at risk when, to use the above example, a writer doesn’t seem to know what the subject of her sentence is.

Having an audience with whom to communicate is then also at risk.

And since WATB was the book the above library declined for this reason, I can’t avoid taking this personally.