EVIDENCE OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES

Beautiful books & wine missing smiling faces....

I woke up this morning and could have immediately kicked myself. Not for waking up. That’s a good thing! But for what I didn’t do last night. You see, I have this wonderful critique group, T.J. Bennett, Wanda Dionne, Joni Rodgers and Colleen Thompson. (You should check out their books for some great reads!) We meet, regularly; all of us try to get together twice a month. We read and discuss pages of current writing projects, which is good, but we also talk the writing biz and sometimes that is what is so sorely needed … a place and people to talk to about the vicissitudes of the writing life, the changes in our fortunes as we wend our way, each of us on our journey. We talk over our struggles to fit our writing lives into our other life responsibilities, like the demands of family and other employment. Sometimes it’s difficult for someone outside of your field, whether it’s writing or something else, to understand the particular process that’s involved, how it works, how and under what conditions it’s accomplished. Writing a book is like that, requiring of a certain, highly individual process. There are five of us in my critique group and each of us has a different way of getting a book done, and because we’re doing the same sort of work in the same field, we can commiserate, support and encourage each other in ways that are so meaningful. It’s so relieving when you’re feeling low about your job, to have somebody, or in this case four somebodies, who are familiar with the territory, to help you talk the trouble through.

But it’s also thrilling to have four somebodies to celebrate the highest, most exciting moments, too. I can’t say in words how much it has meant to me to share the joyful launch of  EVIDENCE OF LIFE with my critique sisters. They were there, literally, from page one and saw the novel through more incarnations than I can remember. If my blood, sweat and tears is wrought into every page, so is theirs. They are tireless, generous and loving midwives to my process, which brings me to our meeting last night and the reason I’m upset with myself this morning.

Yesterday boxes filled with the final copies of EVIDENCE OF LIFE came, and the book is beautiful. I held the fruit of all my labor in my hands. I think I may have danced a little happy dance with it. Earlier this week, I had picked up the lovely wine bottled in its honor by Gary Rodgers, the husband of critique partner Joni Rodgers. I knew I was hosting last night’s critique meeting and I had it all planned. I would serve each of my partners a signed book and a glass of wine with a frozen blackberry as a condiment.  (I have Jerusha, Joni’s lovely daughter to thank for the condiment idea!) And I did. And it was lovely! But did I take a picture? Even one photograph to commemorate the occasion? No! Can you believe it? And it was such a lovely moment, and it won’t ever come again. And all I have now is this rather sad “morning after” picture … a box of books, a few bottles of the wine—posed. So sad. So now I’m sending my critique sisters my apologies. They earned their books and bottles of wine, but I should have made a picture. They earned that, too. It was a Kodak moment if ever there was one, only Kodak and I were asleep at the wheel. But before I drag off to sit deeper in my slough of despond, and in case you’re wondering, the wine was wonderful. And the frozen blackberry added this little piquant kiss of the summer sun … it was just lovely! And you didn’t take a picture? No, I didn’t … honestly, what was I thinking….

Balancing Is Not an Act!

 

Yesterday I attended a chapter meeting of the West Houston RWA. I’m not a member but tagged along at the invitation of two of my critique partners, authors Colleen Thompson and TJ Bennett, who were kind enough to include me. I had a special reason for going to this meeting, and it was because Joan Reeves, super-successful author of many super-fun and sexy romantic titles was the speaker. I had met Joan before, virtually, last summer through her Slingwords blog that I was led to from uber-successful Joe Konrath’s blog. I was in fact-gathering mode at the time, trying to absorb all I could about how to indie publish my work. To say I was naïve would be an understatement and finding Joe Konrath and then through his blog to be led to Joan’s Slingwords blog was just a gift. Without the support of the wealth of information they (and their followers) share, and the guidance Joan has so generously provided to me through our email correspondence, the learning curve would have been a lot sharper and more painful!

I went to that meeting feeling overwhelmed. It’s nothing new. I’ve been plagued with this sense ever since my first novel went live last August. I’m haunted by the notion that I am never going to master the skills necessary to keep all the multiple plates—actual writing + the process involved in artfully showcasing via cover, cover verbiage, endorsements etc. + formatting + marketing, which entails all the various social networking venues (also requiring of a cogent framework)  spinning and maintain my balance. If I can ever even learn mastery of these skills—how best to use the tools that are available—that’s another question.

But two things I came away with yesterday… 

One: I am not alone. Everyone involved in this new publishing world feels overwhelmed to some degree. (It isn’t just me being totally dense after all! At least not all the way!) Joan talked about how the indie landscape is changing, and not just yearly, but weekly, even daily! Back when I was a flight attendant I had a supervisor who gave me a piece of advice in reference to running (literally!) a four-course dinner service on a short flight. I’ve never forgotten it and it applies here: Do what you can do, and what you can’t do, don’t, and don’t worry about it!

The second thing...

Don’t waste your time doing anything that does not resonate with your soul no matter who tries to tell you otherwise. Follow your own inner guide, your own sense of what works for you. You don’t have to explain or apologize. Your way is your way, and it is to be honored and respected, revered even. You don’t have to be proficient at every level of social networking, or what-have-you, regardless of what form it takes. You only have to be true to yourself, and I believe when you are, bit by bit, the bridge to your goal, whatever it might be, is built. There is no magic bullet, no guarantee or sure-fire formula for success other than the magical, sure-fire way you create for yourself.

And Last...

Where are my manners? Thank you to everyone yesterday at the West Houston meeting. It was lovely. I enjoyed meeting everyone and got so much out of the discussion plus came home with two great reads!

Life with a side dish of lemons: the remedy

 

So, on Sunday, ten days into my Mac experience, I got the message in fourteen languages to shut down. In IBM speak, it’s like the dreaded blue screen. Had all gone as expected, I would have rebooted and the Mac would have cleared up the issue and zoomed into life, but all did not go as expected. Turns out there’s something haywire with the RAM. I took it for repairs yesterday and on the way home stopped in at the drugstore, came out and the car wouldn’t start. Now it’s in the shop, too. Lemons. Life is handing me lemons. The nerve! I love my Mac; we had bonded, and I love my car; it’s paid for. All that love . . . squeezed now into lemons. Squeezing my dollars! Sitting on the curb, waiting for the mechanic, I wished for a diversion. Something to take my mind off its tendency to worry. I tried calling both sons, but they were each one traveling in separate parts of the country and without cell service. I sat some more and wished for my Kindle.

Reading, it’s the best diversion

No matter what is happening in my life, from a one-lemon tiny trouble to a five-lemon, full-blown disaster, I have always sought refuge in reading. I can read anytime, anyplace, almost anything--the side of a cereal box, a clothing label, a recipe--and, even if it’s only for a moment, I’m transported. My brain and heart rest in the words, the story. Reading is restorative. Words have the power to create imagery, a pseudo-reality that is different from the one you’re standing in and that interlude, however brief, takes you out of yourself, providing a respite. Joan Reeves blogged recently about this, not reading so much, but about Happiness Amidst Life’s Lemons. In fact, I read her post yesterday, after the mechanic jumped my car, followed me to the garage, and then brought me home. (I wish it were just the battery.) But before that, sitting on the curb waiting for rescue, I wished for my Kindle. If I could have read something, it would have stopped my mind from chewing over the lemon rind so to speak, until I had scared myself with every possible scenario up to and including, or nearly, becoming homeless as the result of being served so many lemons. Where will it end? I asked myself. Why me? I said. What next? Can it get worse? (That’s a bad one to ask!)

If only I'd had my Kindle. . . .

I could have been reading, Jane I’m Still Single Jones, by Joan Reeves, say, a recent download (A romantic dream of a high school class reunion story that zipped along like a fun evening spent with a group of wry and entertaining characters, and cleverly spiced with little nuggets of wisdom that gave me pause. I love Joan’s voice!) Had I been reading that, I might have been smiling.   I know I would have been engaged. Or I could have been reading Innocent Deceptions, a historical novel by Gwyneth Atlee aka ColleenThompson, another recent Kindle download. Reading that would have transported me back to the Civil War era and a story of love and betrayal. (Watch for more of her historical and romantic suspense releases in the near future. Her latest release, Phantom of the French Quarter, is an eerie and atmospheric tale of love and murder). Or I could have taken another look, at Crazy For Trying, by Joni Rodgers. I read that on my Kindle not long ago, loved it and reviewed it here. (Look for her latest release: The Hurricane Lover, a stunner of a literary thriller coming to Kindle this month.)



Instead. . . .

I chewed my virtual nails, pondered all sorts of even graver consequences, indulged in brief acts of self pity, and tried calling my kids so I could serve them a few of my lemons, all of which only increased the sour taste. When I could have been reading. I’m not sure what the lesson is, but I think it goes something like this . . .  don’t leave home without your Kindle (or e-reader of choice) and don’t share your lemons. As Joan suggests, make lemonade. Maybe she’ll even share the recipe she mentions in her post. Oh, and I wouldn’t mind at all if, as a diversion, you were to read my books on your Kindle, too. The Volunteer and The Ninth Step aren’t exactly a laugh a minute, but the stories, the suspense just might hook you in. At the least, you’ll be transported to another world where the lemons aren’t your own.

If this post looks wonky, blame it on the old PC.....

 

Discipline, the four-letter word that isn't

 

Experienced sort of....

I’m new to the indie publishing venture and I don’t mind admitting I’m a little overwhelmed in combination with being excited to see what happens and enthusiastic to be part of something new and innovative. I love that I’m engaged at near the ground floor level in an endeavor that seems to square the playing field for all who care to enter the game. My author story isn’t different from dozens of others. I’ve written for a number of years and placed first in numerous contests. I’ve queried an inordinate number of agents and received increasingly complimentary and ever-more detailed--so-called positive rejections and invitations to rewrite and resubmit.

No walk down the aisle.

I once had an agent who, while she was new to the profession, was also wonderfully supportive and believed in my work. She actually sold a novel of mine only to have the deal fall through. A second novel she represented made it into committee at one of the big-six houses. That didn’t work out either, and, anyway, as the saying goes, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. A rejection is a rejection regardless how glowing the terms and a bridesmaid is not the bride! So, what a joy to have this indie avenue open, to take into my own hands the fate of a novel I’ve authored. The only difficulty was (and remains) how ignorant I am of the process, how it works, the best way(s) to go about it.

My brain doesn't have an app for that!

 So I researched. I read everything I could find. It took me several weeks to feel confident enough to start. I garnered inspiration and encouragement, too, from Joan Reeves of Slingwords fame and successful indie author Karen McQuestion. Still, it required patience and diligence. I’m not the most computer literate person. Nor did I understand the intricacies of social networking, a purportedly major key to the marketing success of e-books. I’m still struggling to get the hang of it and determined to overcome my resistance, my heartfelt belief that my brain doesn’t have an app for that--the likes of Facebook and Twitter, I mean!

When The Ninth Step finally went live, I emailed my mentor, who is also a many-times successful author and creative writing professor and my first publisher. In the note I told her that as the result of my indie publishing experience, I had conceived a new respect for what she did for me and many other authors when she founded a small regional press and took us on, authors whom she believed in. She gave us our first opportunity, handling acquisition and editing responsibilities, as well as contracts, book cover design and hundreds of other details. In short she oversaw what I now know is a complicated process and she did it not just for one book but for many--by herself. This seems incredible to me now.

Dreams require devotion.

As with any new process, I’m sure this one, too, will get easier with practice. Right now, I’m struggling to find a balance--that social networking thing against the need, the desire, the resolve to write. I can see how the networking can become addictive especially if one is a bit obsessive. Which leads me to the point of this post, that being a writer requires a bit of obsession. Paraphrasing Goethe, building a foundation underneath a dream requires devotion. You have to be a little crazy, I think, a little single-minded. You have to be persistent, stubbornly persistent. And you have to be disciplined. The d word. Few like it. So few in fact, it ought to be shortened to four letters.

Help along the way.

 What got me thinking about this was a post last week from Joan Reeve’s blog, where she shares some advice that was given by well-known author Robert (Dick) Vaughn during a workshop she attended, that the bridge between talent and success isn’t networking (I’m paraphrasing again), it isn’t even talent. It’s work discipline. Discipline with a capital D. I was relieved when I read this . . . that it wasn’t social networking skills I needed but discipline. I might not like it, but discipline is something I understand, over which I have control. Imagine, the d word--something so simple can be so effective. For a really terrific kick in the discipline pants, I suggest reading a little book written by Steven Pressfield called Do The Work. He nails it. And for some great tools, check out this blog post at Boxing the Octopus from author Colleen Thompson. Getting the work done is sometimes really difficult. I'd love to know your thoughts, to hear whether you have any tricks that work for you. Who knows, maybe they'll help someone else too!