She said what???

From the mouths of babes . . .

I was presenting a workshop recently, and I was approached by a woman who had attended one of my workshops. She asked a few questions about something I’d said, and then she hit me with something I was totally unprepared for.

“When did you stop attending events like this and start presenting?”

I had to think for a minute. “I started presenting at conferences about 12 years ago,” I said. “But I still attend workshops when I see one that looks really useful.”

The woman shook her head, her eyes wide. “You still go to writing workshops?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “Does that surprise you?”

She sort of “harrumphed” and folded her arms. “I’ve been coming to these things for three years and I could probably teach most of these classes. I’ve read every book on writing ever written, just about, and I’ve got at least eight books finished.”

“How many books have you published?” I asked. I figured she’d have at least a few in print, and maybe she was just looking for the opportunity to be part of a conference in a different way.

“I have one published, but I have eight finished.” She sounded sort of defensive.

“Great,” I said, trying to be enthusiastic. I was getting a really strange vibe from this lady, and I wasn’t sure what she wanted from me. “Who published your first book?”

“I did.” She dug into a canvas bag she was carrying and produced the finished product. She handed it to me as if it were gold leafed and she was afraid I’d damage it.

The cover art was amateurish, to be polite. The design felt almost lopsided and the colors looked muddy. I don’t recall the title of the book because it was really hard to read. And when I looked at the back cover, I found two typos that were set in bold type.

Now, lest my self-published friends think I’m ragging on self-published books, the point of this particular blog is not her book, but rather, it is her attitude. I’m sure the story was fine, maybe even really good, but this woman acted as if this one book meant she knew everything about writing.  Her very words to me hinted (not so subtly) that this is how she felt, too.

I know how this feels. When my first book was published, I felt like I had it all figured out and that my success as a writer was guaranteed. But there is an old adage in the publishing world: The second book is twice as hard as the first. And that is so true. I went six years between my first novel and my second. It’s not that I wasn’t writing – in fact I wrote a lot. But I became afraid. What if this one wasn’t as good as the first one? What if I couldn’t make the magic happen again? What if I wasn’t as good as I thought I was? What if, what if, what if? It paralyzed me, and that made it easy for me not to even try for a while. But I couldn’t stay away, and eventually I had to try again, but I needed reassurance.

So I went to conferences. I went to workshops. I read books. I worked with other writers. These things allowed me to see what my strengths were, identify those areas I needed more work, and helped me to build up those skills that needed a bit more muscle. Even now, these events remind me that I do know a lot about writing, but also remind me that I will never know everything.

I understand this woman’s desire. I understand that she wants validation of her dream. We all do! But the idea that you’ve learned it all and you could teach it all is sort of silly, especially with only one book in print. Yes, you know a lot, and no doubt this woman could talk about her self-publishing experiences, but it takes a bit more than that before conference organizers and workshop hosts invite you to come and present.

The writers I know who are invited to events like this have worked hard for many years to develop the skills they demonstrate in their books and present in their classes. They have tried different ideas, adopted some, rejected others, and have shown through their successes that they understand elements of writing at a very intimate level. And they didn’t show up somewhere, announce that they knew everything, and demand to be allowed to present.

I wish this woman well, and I hope that she is successful – whatever that may mean to her – but the minute you suggest you don’t have anything else to learn, you’ve just proven how little you know.

Mother’s Day

I used to write a lot of poetry, but in recent months, I’ve focused on so many other areas that I haven’t written much of it lately. But I’ve been looking over some of what I wrote in the past, and in honor of Mother’s Day, I’m posting this one – I hope you enjoy!

Belated Mother’s Day

The storm blew the baby bird

from the safety of its nest

to the lawn where my children found it

while exploring after the rain.

 

My youngest daughter

from the tenderness of her child’s heart

scooped it from the wet grass

then called me, saying “Don’t let it die.”

 

So small, it had no feathers

just tufts of spiky down

that shot out in a dozen illogical directions

from the sides of its bald head.

 

It looked like Einstein

they named it Albert

and wrapped it in the softest dish towel

and set it in a bowl in my daughter’s room

 

I knew the possibility of survival

was remote, at best.

I went into the garden

collecting earthworms and strawberries

 

I crushed them in my kitchen

with a mortar and a pestle

which are typically reserved for grinding

basil and mint leaves

 

I mixed it up with water

and fed it to the orphaned bird

with a glass eye dropper I had purchased

from the pharmacy down the street.

 

For three days, I played surrogate to Albert

before the bird lady from the rescue center

called to take the orphan

off my hands and into hers.

 

We drove to her home

Albert in the bowl, on my lap

surprised, the bird lady said he looked healthy

and she told me, “You’re a good mom.”

World Book Night – My Version

Let me begin by saying I LOVE the concept of World Book Night! What a totally awesome idea! Encourage reading and literacy by giving away free books! It’s completely genius as far as I’m concerned.

The concept of being a World Book Night book giver is simple. First, you sign up for your area and, if approved, second, you select the book you’d like to give away. Third, you choose the book store where you’d like to pick up your books, and finally, you identify a location where you would like to hand out your books. Easy!

I signed up to do this last year, but because my life was chaos at that time, I wound up not being able to participate, and I chose to have my books donated to a worthy charity. This year, I was determined to be part of the fun! I signed up early, selected my book (GOOD OMENS by Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaimon – two of my favorite British writers), and chose to give them away at the new City Creek Center in downtown Salt Lake, a very upscale shopping and dining destination that I thought would be a good source for readers and people who supported literacy and books.

I picked up my box of books the day before the event from a rather surly book store clerk (she treated me surlily – okay, sorry, inside joke). However, I was still very excited about the opportunity to participate in this important event. At about 6:30 p.m., I arrived at my destination and began handing out books to anyone who wanted one. I was standing just inside one of the main entrances near an indoor stream, and thought I had a prime spot.

According to mall security, I didn’t. I needed to be outside on the public sidewalk. Something to do with having permits and competing with mall businesses. I was slightly miffed, but I guess it’s a policy or something, so I relocated outside. There were planters with wide edges, benches, and a light rail station that was fairly busy, and I figured this wouldn’t be a bad place to catch folks. I should clarify here that I am not in any way a sales person. I get uncomfortable trying to force something on people, even something as awesome as a free book. When I go to book signing events, I’m as likely to talk about someone else’s work as I am to say anything about mine. If someone asks, that’s one thing, but I hate feeling pressured by someone, and I hate feeling that I’m pressuring someone, so this was really a challenge.

What I discovered is that the clear majority of folks I offered a book to were so skeptical that, before I could even tell them that the book was free and there were no strings attached, they put their hands up and said “No” to me and walked away. I started telling people “I’m not selling anything, it’s just a free book for  World Book Night,” and most of them still walked away, either ignoring me like I was panhandling, or glaring at me like I’d said something offensive.  A few of them did stop and show an interest, and what’s funny was how often, after handing them the free book, how many of them asked, “How much is it?” Um . . . free?  Then, when I said, “Have a good night,” rather than, “Can I interest you in outrageously priced cleaning supplies?”  a few people acted completely surprised!

I managed to give away 18 of my 20 books before the mall security guy came out to tell me I couldn’t put my box on the edge of the planter, but I could put it on the bench 20 inches below. At that point, my allergies were getting the better of me, and I decided to call it a night.

If I were to do this again, and the good news is I have a year to think about it, I would do it with a few other people who were giving away different books. I would have posters that said World Book Night on them, along with the website www.worldbooknight.org so those walking by could quickly look it up and see that I didn’t have any ulterior motive to offering them a free book. For me, it was uncomfortable and scary, and despite my support for this organization and it’s work, I will really have to consider how I approach this if I decide to do it again next year.

Zounds!

The partial Shakespearean quote reads: “Zounds, I was never so bethumped by words . . .” Perhaps a bit out of context, but I am very clear on the concept. I need to clarify first that this isn’t a complaint by any means! I don’t know when I’ve been happier, and a good deal of that is due to the fact that I am – indeed – bethumped by words.

I’ve just finished the final, final revisions (at least on my part) for my young adult novel THE DEEPEST BLUE which will come on in October of this year. Right there, I’m a pretty happy camper.

This book has been a long time coming, and I don’t mean the publishing process (though certainly, there is a little bit of that involved). I started this book in 2006, and early into the first draft, my dad passed away. The scene I was writing at the time had to do with the main character losing his own dad, and that just became too much for me to contend with.  At the same time, I was struggling with my own beliefs in my writing ability, and for a variety of reasons, it was easy for me to put this book, and all my writing, on a shelf. That shelf turned out to be pretty big. In fact, it lasted almost three years.  I’ll save part of this story for another post, but suffice to say that I took a renewed interest in it, sent it out, collected a lot of rejections, and ultimately in December of 2011, it sold to a wonderful publisher.

A few months ago, not sure what my employment status was going to be, I took a work for hire project. My job is to write the last three books in a nine-book series about a former secret agent type guy (sort of like Jason Bourne, only my character is a pretty upstanding guy who hates killing unless there is no other alternative). I am having an absolute blast with this project, and the first book is now almost 70,000 words long. I’m becoming a faster, more efficient writer because of this project. The edits from THE DEEPEST BLUE are informing my writing on this project, and overall, it has been a very meaningful addition to my writing life. The deadlines are rigid, and it forces me to write almost every day to stay on top of my work load. It also forces me to balance my life between a full-time job, my writing projects, and my family. The level of growth I’ve experienced is profound, and I’m grateful to the publishers for granting me the opportunity.

Now another piece of the puzzle has fallen into place. My young adult novel, DEATH’S KISS, has sold to another publisher and I will begin working on those revisions within a few weeks. The publisher wants to release this book in September of this year, so I will have two books coming out within a month of each other. Those revisions will take place while I work on the second and third books in my work for hire project.

And the point to all of this is that, with limited exception, this is exactly how I’ve wanted my life to be for more than 15 years. Now I am here. Now it is happening. There is little to my life that I would change, but believe me, I understand the risks. I also know how very fortunate I am, but I know how hard I’ve worked for this as well. I’ve had a lot of support from friends and family, but I was the one who had to sit down at the keyboard and spill my brains through my fingers.  My life is bethumped by words, and that is exactly how I want it to be until I fall over dead at my keyboard, nose on the F key.

The Cure for What Ails Ya!

A theme has developed in my life in recent weeks that has caused me to pause and consider something crucial: What is wrong with me?

Let me explain -

Over the years, I have spent literally thousands of dollars on motivational tapes, books, DVDs, and even in-person workshops. A majority of the time, these things were recommended by well-meaning friends who for some reason believed that I was either unhappy, or that I lacked motivation, or that this was the cure to whatever was wrong in my life. So I would read said book, watch said DVD, listen to said tapes, and walk into said workshops with an open mind, a willing heart, and the belief that my life would be improved by these gurus of goodness. Gary Smalley, Tony Robbins, Napoleon Hill, Robert Kiyosaki (of Rich Dad, Poor Dad fame), and even Richard Paul Evans (of Christmas Box fame – whom, by the way, I went to high school with). These guys (and a few women) were all highly successful, and here they were, willing to share their intimate secrets of success with me. This had to be the answer, right? After all, with millions of success stories out there, these folks must really know their stuff, right?

                         

 

So having spent all this money, and time, and energy reading, and listening, and going to drafty hotel conference rooms with 500 other eager little beavers like myself, you’d think that I would have all the answers to happiness. You’d think I’d be so blissed out that absolutely NOTHING could cause me to worry, or frown, or experience unhappiness ever again. I mean, all it takes is applying what these near-immortals say to your everyday, hum-drum life and, suddenly, everything will be perfect. These fonts of knowledge know it all about success, after all, right?

Well – here’s the thing they don’t know: Me.

Recently, I found one of those great picture/quote memes on Facebook that struck a chord with me. It read “Don’t expect anyone to know your journey, especially if they’ve never walked your path.” I’ve heard something like this before, and it’s similar to the ancient cliché of “Never judge a man (or woman) until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.” But this is more to the point. How can these people tell me what will work for me when they don’t know me? And that goes to my well-intentioned acquaintances as well. My journey and your journey have never been the same, and they never will be. We may have similar paths at times, and we may have similar experiences, but we are uniquely different human beings, and based on that, I don’t know where you’ve been, nor do you know where I’ve been.

I’ve made no secret about many aspects of my life. I’m quite open about the fact that I struggle with bipolar disorder and chronic depression that requires I live my life in a certain way, and that I take medication to help me manage the symptoms. I used to keep this information under wraps because I was embarrassed about admitting it. But I came to understand that that’s like being embarrassed to have diabetes, or cancer. I didn’t choose to have this disorder, I certainly wouldn’t wish it on anyone else, but it’s not like I can close my eyes, click my heels three times and make it go away.

One of the things I’m not so open about is that I also suffer PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) from being sexually assaulted at the age of 22.  I causes me to have reactions that are more extreme to certain circumstances. I won’t bore you with the details (and I also don’t like putting that information out in public because I’ve actually had a few people try to test the information and it’s ended with very bad results). What all of this amounts to is the fact that, as much as I want these books and tapes and videos and workshops to change my life, they can’t change my brain chemistry.  And since neurobiology hasn’t figured out how to modify my brain chemistry either, I figure I can’t really be upset at these people.

So I find other ways to achieve what I want. I deal with the symptoms of my outrageous brain, and keep moving in the direction that I know I was meant to go. I also realize that some truly amazing writers had the same screwed-up neurobiology that I have, and many of them managed to live extremely successful lives.  The list of writers, artists, musicians, and actors who have been diagnosed, or are thought to have had bipolar, is long and filled with a stellar assortment of people. There are the tragic cases of those who couldn’t, or wouldn’t manage the disorder, but there are many who – without the help of goodness gurus – led (or are leading) wonderful lives.  It’s nice to think I’m in such upper-class company! I take comfort, and inspiration, in knowing that the key to my happiness isn’t going to cost me the price of a book or a video or whatever.  The key to my happiness, to my success, is to accept who I am with all my warts and flaws, and to know that I’m the one steering the ship. There is nothing wrong with me because the motivational stuff didn’t work for me. I’m just on a different journey – one that no one but me is on. And I’m okay with that.

 

 

The Surprising Results of Going Public

People are funny critters. Just when you think you’ve got them figured out, they’ll turn around and do something to show you that you really had no idea about them.

Back in July of 2012, I made a public statement about my mission and my purpose: Within 5 years, I’m going to make a living off my writing. Now, when I say this, let me be clear that I realize my books alone will not be enough necessarily. Then again, I could get really lucky, but that’s not entirely up to me. My plan includes things like: doing some work-for-hire that pays me to write, being very aggressive about marketing my books, teaching workshops and classes, and offering critique and mentoring services. All of this involves or is directly related to writing, and it was always part of the plan.

Recently, I put a post on Facebook about this public declaration, and I mentioned it again to certain family and friends. I brought it up for several reasons. First, in the past 8 months since I made my declaration, many good things have happened that have made me feel more secure than ever that this is not only a good call, but it’s the right one. I’ve had two books come out (one new, one rereleased), I’m finishing the final touches on a third book to come out this fall (The Deepest Blue), I’ve started doing work-for-hire that is sharpening my skills and helping me earn a little more money, and I’ve had some very positive feedback from another publisher on a fourth book. In February I taught a workshop that went very well, I’ve been invited to do several presentations in the coming months, and I’m being asked to start teaching writing classes again through LifeLong Learning at the University of Utah. The second reason I brought up my declaration was that I believe if you don’t restate your goals, it’s easy to forget you have them. It’s sort of the “out of sight, out of mind” philosophy.

So yes, I went public on Facebook about my objective – and I was totally blown away at the responses I got and who gave them to me.

What caught me off guard the most were two writing friends – one of whom I truly consider a mentor – who pretty much said, “Are you crazy? You can’t make a living at this, obviously. We don’t, so how can you?” I’m sort of paraphrasing there, and to give proper credit, my mentor did come back later and say “If anyone can do it, I know you can.” But the initial response was sort of . . . well, shocking. One of the writers tolde me how many books over how many years he/she had written (I don’t want to give anything away), and how he/she had never been able to make a living off his/her writing by itself. One very sarcastic comment said “You’re much braver than I am.” My thought was, “Then why are you saying your a writer. Writers have to be brave just to do what we do in the first place.”

My initial reaction was – and still is to an extent – “Well, I will show you!” I am not only committed to doing this, but the more people tell me “You can’t” the more dedicated I am to proving them wrong! After a while, though, I began to understand their responses for what they were: their own fears on my behalf. In a way, I’m touched that they care enough about me to worry like that, but I am also just a tiny bit offended that I don’t get just a little more credit for having researched this and knowing what I’m getting into. It’s not like I just decided last July to become a writer. I’ve been doing this (for better or for worse) for 17 years. I’ve made many, many mistakes, and I’ve learned a great deal about this whole insane industry along the way.

It would be easy to think that I’ll never be able to succeed solely on my writing, but that was never what I committed to in the first place.I know that I will have to do more than rely on just my books. My mission is to have my “work” be writing-related. I will write, and I will still pray to the great gods of publishing to give me J.K. Rowling’s status. But I will also teach others, because I enjoy doing it and because I’m good at it. Mentoring has always been a huge aspect of my writing life, it’s just that now I will not do it for free because I’m tired of being taken advantage of. This is my career, my profession, and my LIVELIHOOD. What I do has a value, so I’m committing to be paid what I’m worth.

I have to say that I was equally surprised by the positive comments I received. Friends from around the world, some of whom I know only through Facebook, offered words of support and encouragement. They expressed their faith in me and told me I was doing the right thing by following my heart. Cousins and aunts and uncles all chimed in their support as well. One of the messages I received actually came by phone. The daughter of a friend of mine who had read Kiss Kiss Bark told me that because of me, she wants to be a writer when she grows up. Um – yeah. Tugged my heart strings. My family has long been supportive (for the most part, but that’s another blog for another time), and so my restatement of my objective was pretty much met with “Yeah, yeah. We know already,” but I guess that’s what I expected.

The point, I guess, is this: I make my goals public because I want the support. The surprise to me was that I needed to be challenged, too. Have someone say “You can’t,” only makes me yell, “Oh yeah? Watch me!” And as the good news continues to roll in, I will look forward to sharing it with everyone, whether or not they believe in me or support me. Like I said, aggressive marketing!

Where Do You Get Your Ideas?

One of the most common questions most writers are asked is the “Where do you get your ideas?” question. In a way, it’s a flattering question. It’s like seeing an outfit that you really like that someone is wearing and asking, “Where did you get that?” It’s a compliment.

How a writer gets his or her ideas is as unique as the writer him or her self. For some writers, a certain place will trigger an idea, like an old building or a quiet spot in the mountains. Some writers get inspiration from an interesting person they spot at the grocery store or walking through the mall. And others will overhear a piece of dialog that sparks their interest and generates a concept for a story. Or it could be any combination of these things and more. But the typical result is that the inspiration strikes and the writer begins asking, “What if?” or “What about it?” – and from there, the story ideas start to take off.

Speaking personally, I find story ideas everywhere! This is great, because I’m never at a loss for things to write, but it can be a little annoying because at times I am overwhelmed with ideas! But how do these odd collections of inspiration turn into solid stories?  I’ve talked before about the “story behind the story” that led to the creation of the crime/horror novel “Beautiful Monster” so I won’t go into that one again. How about the young adult novel I have coming out in October, “The Deepest Blue” – because it has a good story.

It actually started with my oldest daughter when she was 15. Her biological dad had remarried a few years prior, and she was struggling with the new arrangements when she visited him. She had a step-mom, two step-sisters, and a new little half-brother. Over a period of time, she felt that she was being singled out and picked on (which a lot of teenagers feel in that situation). But for her, it became so bad that she came to my husband and I one day and told us that she wanted her step-dad to legally adopt her. This was not a spontaneous decision. She explained that she had been wanting this for more than a year, but that she just hadn’t found the courage to ask. After some nastiness back and forth between the two families, she finally got her wish.

A few years later, my step-son came and asked me to adopt him. It was not a complete surprise since his biological mom had pretty much dropped out of his life a few years earlier. There wasn’t a fight like there had been for my daughter, and in the end, I became his legal mom not long after he turned 16.

Having watched two of my children go through this process, an idea began to formulate in my head. What if a boy only had one parent, and then lost that parent unexpectedly? What if he had to choose a new parent, but then had to stand up for himself and for what he knew was best for him? The ideas evolved. The story took shape. Pretty soon, I was off and writing. One of the hardest parts of writing this book was that, just before I had to write the scene where the boy sees his father dead (dad gets hit by a drunk driver), my own father passed away. I was at his house within an hour of when he passed and sat with his body off and on for hours while waiting for the funeral home representatives to arrive and take him away.  Needless to say, writing those scenes became nearly impossible. It took me almost two years before I could finish this book. Even now, when I read the scene where the main character sees his father’s lifeless body for the first time, I become very emotional.

(That’s my dad!)

So how about the book I’m working on now? Well, there’s quite a story behind this one too, but it isn’t nearly so personal.

Early in my writing career, I had a contract to write an educational book for kids about Napoleon. I was hundreds of hours into the research, writing, and revisions on this book. In fact, the final revisions were being polished up to submit to my editor when I got a call no writer wants: the publisher had been bought out by another publisher (as was common in the 1990s), and the series that my book was part of had been discontinued. The editors were being let go or reassigned, and the contracts were being cancelled. I was allowed to keep the advance I’d been given, but there would be no finished book. SAY WHAT?? Yeah – it happens.

For years I let the research just sit and molder. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything with it because at first I was so angry, then so depressed, and then finally so exasperated by it that I just didn’t care anymore. But there were pieces of the research I’d done that stuck with me. There were details that would never go into that first book that I found quite compelling, and I would return to them over and over again. One piece of history that I knew wouldn’t go into that book was the information about the French executioners. They lived as social outcasts, even though they were paid quite well by the monarchy for the job they did. Even after the French Revolution, the executioners made a good living from the Republic, but they were completely ostracized by French society. Their children could not attend public schools, they were not welcome in shops or cafes in the towns or villages, and executioner’s daughter could only marry an executioner’s son.

This information has rattled around in my brain for years, and it has finally begun to take shape. I’m playing with several ideas, but already I know the book is entitled “The Executioner’s Daughter” and I know a great deal about this feisty young woman. She isn’t going to play by the rules that society has forced on her. She is going to have a little revolution of her own with far-reaching impact. I don’t know if the book is speculative fiction, or if it might even be Steampunk. (I envision my main character looking something like this.)

If you’re not familiar with Steampunk, I invite you to check it out on the internet. It is a subculture that fascinates me! It could also use some better literature.

So where do ideas come from? Well, pretty much anywhere and everywhere.  I don’t think it’s so important to know where they came from as it is to identify how best to use them! It’s not so hard as you think. Mix some mismatched concepts together, swirl around, and then ask “Why?” and “What if?” and “Then what?” – and then let it fly!