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This post originally appeared on the Bachelors Degree Online site.

Latin-American literature, in spite of its prolificacy and influence, sadly enjoys less academic recognition than its European-American counterparts in the "Western" canon. Though authors hailing from a diverse selection of countries with a diverse selection of opinions, insights and experiences earn plenty of national and international awards, they remain largely overlooked when it comes to slapping together syllabi.

While familiar names such as Pablo Neruda and Gabriel Garcia Marquez enjoy "household name" status amongst literary types, plenty of readers are missing out on lesser-known authors with some amazing things to say and share. Though not a comprehensive list, the following selections provide a decent introduction to the eclectic literature of Hispanic North, Central and South America. Use them as a starting point to explore a wide range of cultures, histories, politics and plenty more.

1. Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair (1924) by Pablo Neruda: Pretty much any of Pablo Neruda’s poetry collections could have ended up on this list, but this one in particular stands out as the one that finally piqued critical attention. Considered one of the greatest poets in the Spanish language, his push into the literary consciousness was published when he was only 19. At the time, mainstream audiences considered the overt, unapologetic sexuality contained within the collection something scandalous.

2. The Aleph and Other Stories (1949) by Jorge Luis Borges: This short story collection by one of Argentina’s literary gems takes readers on a fantastic voyage through space, time and some of the most hauntingly beautiful surrealist landscapes. Fantasy fans with a love of magic realism and mind-bending takes on parallel universes, the supernatural, immortality, theology, identity and other rich themes would do well to pick up Borges’ masterpiece. It will certainly stimulate the imagination in numerous exciting ways.

3. The Burning Plain and Other Stories (1953) by Juan Rulfo: Fifteen short stories offer readers an incredibly human glimpse into the lives of rural Mexican families and individuals. Reviewers enjoy how the tales shift from traditional structures to something a little more anecdotal to the more experimental homages to pop art. No matter how he chooses to convey the message, though, all of Rulfo’s tales illustrate the harsh reality and extreme poverty that many of Mexico’s inhabitants face.

4. Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon (1958) by Jorge Amado: Sweet, poverty-stricken Gabriela falls for a Syrian barkeep named Nacib Saad while Brazil divides over its cacao exports. The nation’s tense struggle between tradition and modernization provide an interesting — if not outright satirical — backdrop for their odd little love story. For readers not terribly interest in matters of romance, the book provides an interesting insight into the social, political and economic history of a massive, sometimes volatile, region of the world.

5. Hopscotch (1963) by Julio Cortazar: The title of the novel refers to Cortazar’s brilliant use of structure. It boasts 155 chapters, which readers can either take chronologically or skipping between them, resulting in a few different endings. Narrator Horacio Oliveiera meanders through Paris nightlife, engaging in philosophical, bohemian discussions with his lover and friends, contemplating the nature and value of existence itself.

6. One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967) by Gabriel Garcia Marquez: Easily one of the most recognized, beloved and studied works of Latin-American literature, the lush One Hundred Years of Solitude blends the tenets of the modernist, magic realist and Vanguardia movements into one memorable novel. Drawing from Colombian history — especially as it pertains to the city of Macondo — he weaves the intricate tale of seven generations. All of them experience some form of bizarre hardship in a way that mirrors the city’s real-life struggles.

7. Conversation in the Cathedral (1969) by Mario Vargas Llosa: As Odria’s dictatorship plagues Peru, characters hailing from vastly different sociopolitical backgrounds intertwine. Through discussions at a bar known as the Cathedral, two men express their own experiences and opinions regarding the volatile political climate. Along the way, they also attempt to untangle the complex issues surrounding the role one’s father played in the death of a major underworld instigator.

8. The Obscene Bird of Night (1970) by Jose Donoso: Slowly, deftly, this novel explores questions of time and its intimate, essential relationship with life. Magic realism, a staple component of many notable Latin-American works, relays the traditional Chilote tale of the Imbunche — driving home its eerily supernatural theme. Existential crises, it seems, can bring out the ravaging monster in many people.

9. I, the Supreme (1974) by Augusto Roa Bastos: Like many highly regarded Latin-American authors, Paraguayan Augusto Roa Bastos found narrative inspiration in his nation’s tempestuous history and layered culture. His exceptionally experimental, frequently lauded novel questions the validity and stability of a dictatorship, pulling elements directly from then-current politics. Although he understandably took some liberties with reality, the result eventually defined an entire genre.

10. Kiss of the Spider Woman (1976) by Manuel Puig: This tense stream-of-consciousness novel is also an essential read for those who enjoy or want to learn more about LGBTQIA literature as well. Taking place almost completely in dialogue, the narrative focuses on a gay window-dresser and a political revolutionary sharing a Buenos Aires prison cell. Deep philosophical discussions help the pair pass the time and learn more about the world around them, which eventually leads to both romance and tragedy.

Read the rest of the post on the Bachelors Degree Online site.

Today has been a bit of blur. As a consequence, I’ve not had the time to sit here and compose a post until the last minute. I’m only telling you, dear readers, because I’ve been trying stick to a Thursday posting schedule. Just a little FYI for those interested. With that out of the way, I should get to the point of this post. I want to share some writing tips with you. They are not original to me. I’ve found them here and there. In fact, some have been rehashed many times by writers and teachers alike to help you make your writing better.

I’m certainly not your sage or your guru seeking to pass on the tried and true wisdom that I’ve inculcated and use regularly in my own practice. No, not at all. I’m here in the trenches with you. I’m learning — and rehashing — this advice as I move forward in my own writing endeavors. The path of the working writer is often plague with uncertainties and questions about one’s legitimacy as a writer come up quite a bit. As I’ve said before, it can be helpful to revisit the basics from time to time. There are certain times when you actually gain a new insight from a hackneyed and worn tip. Let’s see what you think about that.

The Tips

Write What You Know – Ah, here we go. I’m starting with the "big one." I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen this tip. I swear, I think there has been a book writing about this one mega tip. All of the objections, all of the praise, and all of the careful thinking that have occurred because of this simple tip. Yet, it makes good sense. It’s a good starting point for any writer to focus on those things they know the most about – or that you’ve become familiar with through research and the like. It comes down to establishing authority. This is how people will buy into the story you’re trying to convey or accept the information you wish to convey.

Watch Your Adverbs and Adjectives – I’ll admit this one trips me up often. It is a battle to draw together the right mix of strong nouns and verbs so you can eliminate many of those adverbs and adjectives that can protract your prose and make it clunky. Cut out most of those words ending in -ly and you’re probably on the right track. Now, this can be a fine line for many of you. (Of course, for me, it’s a more of a blurry line!) You may be thinking that if you cut out all of those types of words that your prose will lack the interesting descriptive details that make words worth reading.

Use The Active Voice (Or Avoid The Passive Voice) – This another of the "big ones." I was reading another article about the passive voice earlier today. Didn’t think I’d be talking about it myself. Like "write what you know," using the active voice is a valuable tip for any beginning writer. The gist of this one is to have the subject of your sentence directly producing the action of the verb. The passive voice reverses this order. (Examples: Active voice – The boy hit the ball. Passive voice: The ball was hit by the boy.) Look at the source of the action. In this case, the boy is the active agent that "hits." By placing the ball front and center, you diminish the strength of the action.

Get A Handle On Your Grammar and Spelling – This tip is so basic that I almost skipped it. I could have talked about other aspects of the craft or may even addressed something like writer’s block but I decided to get back down to the foundation. My advice to you is do what ever is necessary to address issues with spelling, punctuation, and grammar. These are the essential building blocks for any writer. Study the rules, get some books on grammar and usage (Strunk and White comes to mind), and just learn to proofread and self-edit.

And More…

Those are just four tips. I could have laid some more out there; the number of great tips is huge. Still, I wanted to give you something to start with. I close by wishing you luck in your writing endeavors. I also wish all of you a Merry Christmas. I’ll be back with one last post on December 31st — the last post of 2010. Until then, have fun writing.

This is a reprint from Shaun Kilgore‘s blog. 

Several weeks ago I had carved out a few days for uninterrupted writing, and I was firmly committed to making significant progress on my new book. I already had the first five chapters written (about 10,000 words) of Uneasy Spirits, the sequel to my historical mystery, Maids of Misfortune, and my goal was to get another 4-5 chapters done. I started out well, briefly reviewing my outline, and then I began writing the chapter where my protagonist, Annie Fuller, was to travel from the O’Farrell Street boarding house she owned to the residence of Simon and Arabella Frampton, spiritualists she is investigating. This would require her to take a horse car from her neighborhood north of Market Street to the Rincon Hill neighborhood, south of Market, where the Framptons were renting a house. I started on the first paragraph, and two days later, I only had about 600 words written.

You see, I got lost in the streets of San Francisco, doing research.

The first detour away from writing started innocently enough. I wanted to find the name of the horse car company Annie would have been riding in 1879. First I did a google search, looking for sites on early San Francisco transportation. I eventually found out that there were two routes that went near her house and would take her within a few blocks of her destination, the Central Railroad Company (horse cars ran on rails), and the South Park and North Beach Company. Of course I also read about the history of horse cars in general, learned about when horse cars began to replace omnibuses in San Francisco, located a lovely picture of a horse car from the South Park Company, and read about the history of Rincon Hill/South Park district. One morning of writing gone.

After lunch I pulled out my book of historical San Francisco maps, and, with a magnifying glass, began to go through the maps for the 1860s and 1870s. Uneasy Spirits opens in October of 1879, just a few months after the events of Maids of Misfortune, therefore I needed to know what routes existed in that year. Of course there wasn’t an 1879 map, that would be too easy, but two maps did have streetcar routes marked on them. One was from 1864, which actually had the title “The Railroad Map of the City of San Francisco,” the other was dated 1873. What I discovered was that the Central Railroad went right past Annie Fullers’ boarding house and would pass just two blocks from the Frampton house, so the Central Rail it was. Now that I was sure of the route, I pulled out pictures I had taken the month before when I last visited San Francisco to attend the Bouchercon mystery conference. I had walked between Annie’s house and the Frampton’s place, providentially taking the same route that the horse car would take, and I had snapped a number of pictures on my husband’s iPhone so I would have a sense of the terrain.

Unfortunately, I am not a native San Franciscan. While I visit the city as frequently as I can and have read numerous books on the city, I don’t know the streets the way a native would. I don’t have childhood memories of which section of California Street is the steepest, I haven’t had to calculate whether it is closer to go straight down O’Farrell to Market or turn at Taylor, I don’t have a sense of how long it would take me to get from Kearney to the Embarcadero. I have to look up this kind of detail on a map, or research them in person. In addition, reconciling the streets in 2010 with the streets of 1879 (particularly when most of places where people lived and worked in 1879 were destroyed in the 1906 Earthquake and Fire) is not easy. Flipping back and forth between my pictures, the printed historical maps, and google street map, I pictured riding a horse car down Taylor, across Market, down Sixth, and getting off at Folsom.

But then I had to hit the pause button on my imagination. I had taken the photos in the morning, but Annie and Kathleen would be traveling in the late afternoon, so I had to look up to see approximately when the sun would be setting in San Francisco mid October and what the weather was probably like (again thanks to google). I then rewound my imagination and took the trip again with the sun low in the sky. Suddenly my first day of writing was over and I had written only 135 words.

The next day. after actually writing a few paragraphs of dialog between Annie and her maid as they traveled to the Framptons, what diverted me was not the horse car route or the terrain, but the look and feel of Folsom Street in 1879. I did more research on the neighborhoods of Rincon Hill and South Park, whose character as the wealthy part of town had been undermined by a bad municipal decision to cut through Second Street. I had noticed when I walked between Annie’s place and the Framptons that the 700 and 800 blocks of Folsom had seemed so much longer than the block on O’Farrell where Annie lived. I needed to know why, and if this was a modern configuration or one that would have existed in 1879. It took me hours, but I finally found out that difference in length was due to the original city land surveys, which made the blocks south of Market Street 4 times the size of those north of this main thorough fare. However, I also discovered that the city then divided those blocks into 6 lots each, which were then subdivided in a variety of patterns by subsequent real estate speculators. Phifft, there went the second morning.

After lunch, I wrote a few more paragraphs getting Annie and Kathleen down Folsom to the Frampton’s house, but then I was completely derailed as I threw caution to the wind and dove into the research necessary to determine what style this house would look like, given that it would have been built in the mid1850s (which is when this neighborhood flourished). Between a number of books written on the history of San Francisco architecture, a historical picture of a mansion on Folsom, and several sites on the internet, I finally decided on the Italianate style and determined the architectural details and the proper color scheme for the period. Day two of writing was gone, my nice window of writing opportunity had ended, and I had managed to write only 620 words.

So, was all this research necessary, and was it necessary that I do the research right then?

Yes and No.

I certainly could have done the research later, concentrating on the dialog in the scene and filling in any details later about the name of the horse car, the route they took, and so forth. One downside of having learned so much detail about San Francisco transportation is that I might have been tempted to do an information dump, the bête noir of historical fiction. Even more likely, I might never even use this chapter, deciding later that it will speed up the pace of the book to start right out at the Framptons, skipping how Annie got there.

Yet, I would argue that I needed to do that research, and I needed to do it then, even if the whole chapter disappears and much of the detail I learned never makes it on the page. Even if the reader doesn’t need to know that someone who got off at Folsom would be able to see the Twin Peaks if they looked west up that street, or that Italianate houses had sturdy decorative brackets along their roof lines, I needed to know. Because it is details like this that fuel my creative imagination.

When I can picture the horse car Annie would ride or what Folsom Street would look like, then what I write will ring true, even if every detail I end up writing is a complete fabrication. Because ultimately what I write is just that—fiction. I don’t really know what the 800 block of Folsom looked like in 1879, and even if I did (say for example I found a picture), I might describe it differently to make it fit into my plot. And I don’t really know how it feels like to ride on a horse car, and even if I got to ride in one today, I wouldn’t experience it the same way someone of that time period would.

With a pinch of an old picture, a dollop of a nineteenth century newspaper story, mixed in with four years researching and writing a dissertation on women who worked in San Francisco in 1880, added to a very large portion of having lived for sixty years and the important ingredient of an active imagination, I can make the reader believe they are truly experiencing the past. That is the alchemy of creative writing, and doing research as I write, not in some fill-in-the-blank manner later on, is one of the ways I do my job well.

What about you? How do you use research when you write, whether you are writing historical, contemporary, or science fiction? And, how much detail do you as a reader want when reading about a time and place that is not your own?

This is a cross-posting from M. Louisa Locke‘s The Front Parlor.

This editorial, by Arielle Eckstut and David Henry Sterry, originally appeared on Publishers Weekly on 12/20/10.

Yes, Virginia, we’ve entered a new digital age in publishing. But there’s another major change afoot.

America was founded by a scrappy bunch of determined, motivated, fed-up citizen soldiers who revolted against an unjust system that benefited the few at the expense of the many. Like them, a new 21st-century group of brave outsiders has decided to revolt against the often unfair elitism of modern publishing. We call them Citizen Authors.

Sure, some of these brave new Citizen Authors are Harvard graduates with megaspeaking careers and fancy titles. But most Citizen Authors aren’t college professors, graduates of M.F.A. programs, or even relatives of someone in the publishing industry. Instead, they are veterinarians, entrepreneurs, schoolteachers, bartenders, soccer moms, firefighters, goth teenagers, and foodies determined to write their way to success.

Citizen Authors have two things in common: (1) a dream of having a book published, and published well, and (2) the will to make it happen by whatever means necessary. Some Citizen Authors self-publish, some e-publish, some partner with small, medium, and megapublishers, and some do all of the above. There’s Seth Godin, who uses his creativity to package, market, and publicize his books in unique and savvy ways that embrace a grassroots methodology. There’s Robert St. John, who depends on his local following to successfully publish and produce gorgeous illustrated books that defy all publishing conventions about the coffee-table book market. There are Patricia Konjoian and Gina Gallagher, mothers with a passion to help other mothers despite no "expertise" in their topic.

Read the rest of the editorial on Publishers Weekly.

Workman published Arielle Eckstut and David Henry Sterry’s The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published: How to Write It, Sell It, and Market It… Successfully last month.