seeds of self doubt

The limited feedback I have been getting from "Year of the Dog" has made me all a-bloom. The garden of my ego has blossomed to new splendor-- my work might actually be loved, appreciated and respected. Heck, I might even be a successful, well-known author/illustrator.

But, small things, like frost in the night, creep in. A patronizing message on a message board. A tepid review calling my book "comfortable." The disinterest of relatives because it's "kid's things." An innocent e-mail asking where to get my book as it is not stocked anywhere. These small things water the seeds of self-doubt, encouraging them to grow into dominating weeds.

The balance between pride and humbleness is hard to accomplish. As satisfaction fills me and the feeling of self-importance does not seem so unreasonable, the whispers begin. "Who do you think you are?" it scoffs, "You think you're all that? Please don't make me laugh."

For low self-esteem and insecurity has plagued me and pushed me. You'll never get published. You can't make a living on children's books. No one is going to like your books. You're never going to make it. Fear of failure made me want to prove that I could do what was doubted. Yet, the same impetus that pushed me to work harder is the same force that won't allow me to feel peace or pride with my endeavors.

Robert, of course, has been the great equalizer. Whenever the secret demons push me to dejection, he shines a light on them. "When are you going to be as proud of yourself as I am of you?" he says to me and the tears burn in my eyes. And, I realize that the demons are just rabbits sneaking into the garden. I'll probably never get rid of them, but I can't stop trying to grow flowers because they steal a bit of lettuce.

Happy Year of the Dog!

It's the Year of the Dog! Chinese New Year has arrived. Traditionally, a Chinese tray is filled with candy that is eaten on New Year's Eve--the idea being that if the tray is filled with sweet things, the year will also be filled with sweet things.

While I don't have the traditional tray, my New Year's Eve has been quite satisfying. In honor of my starred Booklist review, my editor at Little, Brown sent me some gourmet Chinese New Year-inspired chocolates. These delectable goodies were quite appreciated. (Thanks, Alvina!)

The other sweetie I received is an e-mail from a reader. While it is perhaps not as tasty, it is just as fulfilling:

Our family wishes to send its heartfelt thanks to you
for writing "Year of the Dog." We all loved your
latest book, especially our almost 10-year-old
daughter, Wendy. Wendy and her younger sister,
Sara, 8 yrs., were both born in China and adopted
when they were young. Wendy has already shared the
book with her best friend. I can't truly capture my
daughters' delight in the story -- it has been the
perfect story at a perfect moment in their life.
(Briefly, your book caught us while we were preparing
for the Chinese New Year, completing Science Fair
projects, and discussing life long questions related
to friendship, identity, and transracial adoption
issues).

We all remember reading and listening to your Ugly
Vegetable book many times. I hope you can imagine the
delight when my daughters' realized that the book that
Grace wrote in Year of the Dog was this family
favorite. There was much excitement in our family.
"We know that book!!"

Thanks so much. We are looking forward to your future
books and truly love the books that you have written
and illustrated. Sara still loves to look at the
book you illustrated about shapes, especially the last
page with the hong baos on a tree.

Wendy has renewed her enthusiasm to write and draw.
She's a wonderful, creative girl who told me last week
me that "I started as a seed and now I am a seed with
roots waiting to blossom." Your book provided
something special to her. Thanks again, my best
wishes, Mary

I think it's going to be a sweet year!

and on i go

I have returned. For a week. And then I’m off to Portland, Oregon to continue my attempt at a “Year of the Dog” tour.

And how has it been? Well, as a “Year of the Dog” promotional tour, I’d have to say it leaning towards the failure end. And oddly, not for lack of interest or fans. The schools I visited had ordered their books months ago and since “Year of the Dog” was not scheduled for release until Feb., didn’t order any. And the bookseller at the Chinese New Year event had never had an author come before, so conservatively brought only 25 copies of the book to sell. They were gone in a flash. I was a tiny bit annoyed as I had traveled a LONG way for the event and the attendance was 700+ people. A lot more books could’ve been sold. But the book people knew that and were very nice, so I gave myself a mental slap for being a snot (on the inside). It would've been horrible if none or only some of the books had sold, so even if I wasn’t quite satisfied, best to be grateful.

However, as an exercise in ego gratification, the tour is already phenomenal success. Nothing is more touching or rewarding then seeing hundreds of the cutest Asian girls looking at you with stars in their eyes. And having their parents say, “She LOVES your books. She sleeps with “The Ugly Vegetables” at night and we’ve read “Dim Sum For Everyone!” so many times that the binding is worn out.” And to hear it not once, but a number of times. It’s a heady experience, one that is uplifting and humbling at the same time.

I have grumbled and griped about my lack of success, judging it on coveted awards, promotional budgets and envy of peers. But, in the presence of my youngest devotees, those complaints are disgraceful. Yes, of course this is a business, of course I need to make money. But that’s not the reason I became a children’s book creator. The ability to connect with children is.

So, with those thoughts soothing my irritated soul, the tour will continue…and perhaps (if I am lucky) I’ll get to sell some book on the way!

surprise success

On the morning of my exhibit opening, both Robert and I had a difficult time getting out of bed. Robert, because of his treatment and me, because of my dread of a tumbleweed opening. But, up we got, though a bit later than planned, and on we went (and arrived late-sorry!).

But what had been giving me cold chills turned out to be one of my most heartwarming experiences. People came. A lot of them. The word had gotten out through the school, libraries and newspaper and had alerted some of my core fans, who came out in packs. The museum (obviously surprised) ran out of books immediately. Good friends, Luke & Ranida, drove from Arlington and brought "Year of the Dog" cookies to take the place of the ones I din't have time to make.

And Robert was disgusted with me. "If you ever put down one of your events ahead of time like you did this one," he said, "I'm going to shake you. You disrespect your venue, your fans, and your work when you do that."

It's true, of course. Confidence in your failure is an insult to those who believe in you. Yet, self-assurance is hard to achieve simply out of good manners.

the motion of promotion

Today, I finally received my author copies of Year of the Dog. Hooray! Now what to do with them...

While I am planning to just give my books away to friends, family,and charitable causes, my new marketing book says, "Resist the temptation to send books to your friends and family. Send to book reviewers, some producers and key bookstore buyers, instead." Hmm, I'm drawing a blank here. I don't know any reviewers, producers or key bookstore buyers. Well, I know some, but I'm uncomfortable thrusting my book upon them in a such an obvious "make people buy my book" way.

And I guess that is my issue with promotion and marketing. The naive part of me wants to believe that if my book is good enough, it'll find its audience and sell well on its own. But the reality is that no one will buy your book if they don't hear about it and it's not the best books that do well, it's the ones that "yell" the loudest. And I care too much about my books to let them slip into the out-of-print graveyard without a good war-cry.

So while I have not exactly embraced marketing, I have decided that we must at least hold hands. With the help (and prodding)of my sister, I've contacted groups and set up events in Seattle, Portland, and possibly San Diego and Arizona to try to push "Year of the Dog." I've sent out some postcards to friends and colleagues (and key bookstore buyers as suggested). I've written an article on why I wrote the book and offered it to publications. To me, this is marketing at full force--going full throttle into battle.

But, a brief perusal through marketing resources show me that my attack is not even a mere fistfight. It seems like if you really want to wrestle, you have to promote with every breath, view every conversation as an opportunity to sell. One resource sites an example of a woman who sold her book to every passenger on her airplane flight. The author wrote this in tones of admiration, but I was horrified. How obnoxious is it to have goods forced upon you when you can't even leave?

I want my books to do well, I want to promote them so they get the attention I feel they deserve. But I don't want to transform the labor of my work to boorish behavior. It's literature, not rock music.

But perhaps that's what my problem is and why I am not as successful as I could be. And really, I have no right to be condescending. Because, even though there is line between being a rat in the rat race and a mouse trying to find your way through the maze, you're still a rodent through and through.

Congratulations, it's a book

Even though Amazon has it as not yet released, my editor sent me bound and finished copy of "The Year of the Dog" (thanks, Alvina!). Well, as Anne of Green Gables would say, this marks an epoch of my life.

This book is my first novel. So, it is almost as if I am getting a book published for the 1st time. I can no longer sport my jaded "been around the block" attitude. It's like I'm a new mom, again.

Because I imagine creating books is a bit like the birthing process. You have the exciting conception with its ecstasy of inspiration, the long publishing pregnancy (Is something wrong with the book? What do you mean it needs more dialogue?) and then the climatic birth (Congratulations, it's a book!).

And new babies do get attention. I'm a little nervous about the attention my new baby will get. What will people think of it? I love it, Robert loves it, my family loves it. But of course, we are a bit biased.

So, I tremble in fear of the judgment of impartial reviewers. I realize that book reviews are somewhat like sending in your child's college application to Harvard. A few get that starred entrance. Others are politely waitlisted with a tepid response. And then, some are flatly rejected.

However, an Ivy League education is no guarantee of future success...just like a starred review. I have to remember that. I just have to believe that I created my book with the best that I had in me and in the end, that is all I can do.

Still, I hope the reviews don't give my book diaper rash.

ode to obuchowski

A couple of weeks ago I received and e-mail from my editor of "The Year of the Dog" (my first novel). "We're going to push the release date of your book up," she wrote me, "Instead of February as planned, we're going to release Dec. 20th--so there's time for it to get to the stores before Chinese New Year."

"Great," I thought, "It's coming out sooner." Then I realized, it's coming out sooner.

Quickly, I e-mailed my web genius friend Jon Obuchowski.

"Hey, Jon," I write, "Remember how I wanted my new website to launch with the release of my book? Well the release is Dec. 20th..."

I could hear the screams through cyberspace.

But he did it. The new website (go and see it:www.gracelin.com) is up and running. Today. With the release of my book. Even after the long nights of the robertssnow website, Jon continued to burn the midnight oil on gracelin.com.

THANKS JON!!!

i'm the illustrator

For the past 3 years, Ki-Ki and I have sold my books at a booth at the RISD Alumni sale. It's been fun, lucrative and puzzling.

The puzzling part is because everytime a buyer asked to get a book autographed they always asked Ki-Ki to sign it. Well, not every time--but 8 out of 10 (we counted). People assumed she was Grace Lin. Apparently, she looks more like a children's book illustrator than me.

This was issue we pondered deeply. Why? Was it her demeanor? Did she act more friendly? Younger? Older? What do people think children's book illustrators look like? Do they think they are soft, granny-like ladies with grey hair? Sexy, thin a la Teri Hatcher in Desperate Housewives? Whatever they think, Ki-Ki looks more like it than me.

So, this year we decided to challenge their preconceived notions and labeled ourselves.



This was quite successful. In fact, I think we sold more books because so many people were amused by our shirts.

blah, blah, blog

The other day, I was the guest for the Foundation for Children's Books Conversations With...Author and Illustrator Series. So, it was an open forum conversation with me!

So, I talked a lot. It was quite nice actually. I'm never confident about which rung I am on the ladder of my career but this talk let me look down and see how high I've climbed. Others have climbed (much) higher and faster ( and some people get the elevator), but my view isn't too bad.

We spoke mainly about my books and Robert's Snow, but during the converation we also discussed my blog.

Which brings up the question, why do I blog? Why am I laying bare so many details of my life and soul to a faceless audience?

Perhaps it's therapy. But I also think it's because as an author I am compelled to write down the moments that are important to me. And to share them.

I guess, somehow, it's not enough for me to write and paint things and stick them under my bed. I feel a need to connect to someone no matter how few. I think that is the way it is when you are in the creative field. It's not enough just to write a book, you want it to be published--you want people to read it. The truth is creation is incomplete unless it's shared.

It's like the old philosphical question, if a tree falls in the middle of the forest and no one knows about it, did it really fall? Who knows? The truth is if no one sees it or hears it, no one cares. And in a way, it might as well not exist. I am like a mushroom in that forest. Sometimes I get trampled on, sometimes I grow but I want to feel like I exist. I want to feel like it matters. That I matter.

Seems like a desire worth blogging for.

good fortune

Some time ago a couple of friends and I made a list of the ten things we wanted accomplish in our lifetime. In an attempt to free ourselves from guilt, we nixed goals such as "fight cancer" and made the list be a personal achievement list. In other words, we were writing down our most personal and most ego-gratifying wishes.

One of the things that I listed was "have one of my books made into a theatrical performance." Well, since then I have had that privilege happen to me not once, but twice. The first time was in Portland, Maine when a group put on the play performance of The Ugly Vegetables. And the second time is most recently in Philadelphia where a dance preformance of Fortune Cookie Fortunes was produced.


The Union of Hearts and Cultures is an annual event put on by the FCC-DV. It's an event that promotes diversity, mixed heritages and races. The performance of Fortune Cookie Fortunes was going to be the highlight event and I the guest of honor. I couldn't wait to see what they created.

And it was wonderful. Truly gratifying. Yes, the performers were kids and teenagers, but they danced and held themselves like professional adults. In front of a packed auditorium, waiters danced and tossed trays and fortunes came to life. The ending joyful dance was completed with the cast throwing fortune cookies out to the crowd. I could see the hours of work behind the dancing, the costumes, and the sets which emulated my work so much that there were swirls in the sky. It really was delightful and I was honored they performed my book.


Sometimes when you get things that you want, they fall hollow or the satisfaction is fleeting. It seems like it's human nature to move onto the next wish, the next goal. As I cross "have one of my books made into a theatrical performance" off my list, I catch myself doing that. Almost immediately, my next thought was to look over the other unfulfilled wishes...and I stop myself. It's so easy to lose the good stuff, so easy to lose the pride and self confidence. And it's even easier to take it for granted. So, maybe, instead of rushing onto the the next ambition, I'll just savor my good fortune and try to hold onto it for a while.