I can’t believe it’s been a year since I last posted. I’ve been busy getting my book finished and edited and am currently querying after close to two years of work.
Querying is not for the faint of heart which I’ve said before. I value the feedback I might get at the same time I dread the rejection letters. With each new letter I send a prayer and a wish for a miracle. While I love my novel, I realize it will take a special person to see me and my novel for what we are. A promise of things to come? An interesting idea for a mystery?
I know I love what I do and want to share it with everyone far and wide.
For those of us entering the world of writing, it’s an intimidating and herculean place. If you’re anything like me, there’s much to be scared of, and much to be anxious about.
The thrill of writing collides with the real world outlook and our dreams of being published can be dashed into the rocks of reality. As someone who has trod the path to plead with agents to simply glance at my work, only to be turned away every (yes, every) time, it’s incredibly hard to keep going.
I realized I keep going for the love of writing. I picked up writing a year ago, so it’s not a surprise that my first round was a dismal failure. But, I’m not giving up. I have fallen in love with my characters and I can’t wait to see what they do next.
In a prior post, I mentioned Janet Evanovich liked my Tweet, and I still ride its coattails. I have loved Ms. Evanovich since I picked up my first Stephanie Plum book nineteen years ago. She has been my inspiration and my mentor from afar. I have dreamed of having conversations with her and when I picked up her book, “How I Write,” the manner in which the book is put together is like I’m having a conversation with her myself. It’s like I can ask her all the questions I long to ask her, and I found I have more questions! About how she reached her style, how did she find her voice, how often did she want to give up? Mostly I want to beg her to read my book and tell me if there’s any hope, or if I’m completely off base with my dream and I should just go back to selling at Victoria’s Secret, (yes, I actually did this many years ago.)
All of us want reassurance in our writing. All of us want to know if we have something special or if ours is simply another in a long list of [enter genre here]. I want the validation that comes with an agent, perhaps that’s why I’m still sticking my neck out there. I want someone to fight alongside me and help me slay the dragons in the publishing world. I’m not asking to build an empire, I’m asking to be included in a world of people I have admired for years. I know there is a place for me at the table. I know that I can reach readers and introduce them to my characters, and they will love them as much as I do.
Stay tuned on my journey to publishing, I may not be there yet, but I will be.
This isn’t so much an in depth deeply moving post as much as it is a celebration of life for my girl Bailey. She’s made it to the ripe old age of 19, which is roughly 92 in human years. She’s the best cat we’ve had and when I think back on my life before it’s really hard to remember it all. She’s been here since 2002 and I pray that she remains healthy for as long as she can.
I feel selfish asking for more time with her, but the thought of her not being here after 19 years is just something I can’t fathom in my life. As a semi-religious person, I know that I will see her one day. She’s going to join my other cats in the big litter box in the sky.
So, join me in celebrating Bailey aka Boo for the time she has left with me.
We are all settled in our new location. As I write this I have the window open to the street out front so I can listen for my 7 year old who is playing with the kids across the street.
I’m taken back in time as I listen to them all play. They argue. They yell over each other. The ride their bikes up and down the street. They pretend to be on horses and want to name them.
I’m transported to my childhood. Playing with my next door neighbors. Running up and down the court until mother calls us in for the night. In high school we would play hide and seek after dark.
My 16 year old and her friends have taken up the baton of hide and seek in the neighborhood and I smile at the memories. Happy that she’s not too old to be a kid again.
My mom would lean out the door and whistle for us to come home. This usually began the Exodus of kids heading home for the evening to get ready for school again tomorrow, or to meet outside at such and such a time if it was summer.
For a moment tonight I’m a kid again. Running to knock on the door of Tanya & Tara seeing if they can join me and Andy as we play out at the man hole cover in the middle.
I’ve had to take a break from my writing, all the while in the back of my head is a ticking clock. It’s reminding me that time is passing me by, while I settle my new house, and anticipate the upcoming school year. Fingers crossed my little will be sitting in class this year instead of my living room. I don’t think I can do another year of this.
In the mean time I’m watching lots of Forensic Files and planning out story lines.
This week, or last, I can’t remember, I tagged Janet Evanovich in a tweet and what a wonderful surprise was given me when she liked it!!! I think I cried. (See the bottom of this post for screenshot.)
The tweet was displaying a few tidbits that were at the end of her Kindle Book, One For the Money, indicating that it took her two years to develop the book, and the second image was how she wrote for ten years (three complete novels) before she made her first sale.
Those of us querying and praying and hoping that this next agent will like us, get a new sense of hope when we learn about our favorite established writers who began just like us. I know that Stephen King mentioned his humble beginnings in his book, On Writing, and it’s amazing to see where it all began for them.
I say that partly tongue in cheek because I’ve reached a crossroads. My new novel is finished but I’m stuck on determining which genre it is. Romantic Suspense or a Soft-Boiled Cozy are my options. My only difficulty tends to be, with the first genre mine isn’t romantic enough and the problem with the second is it’s too romantic. Thus you see my dilemma.
Either way when I pick it up again in a week or two of letting it sit it’s with the knowledge that something is going to have to be added. Which is fine since I’m under my word goals and when I finished I knew this.
I’m still here. I’ve been querying my book, to no result. *sigh* It’s hard when you’ve poured your heart and soul into a work and no one wants to see it. I’m trying to keep my chin up while pressing on.
It’s interesting to me too. I’ve begun a few other projects all the while revising and rewriting my original. I get some started but then lose interest. That is until the one I’m currently working on. I’m very very excited about this one.
I’ve also been reading Stephen King’s book, On Writing, and I’ve felt things fall into place in my mind. I haven’t finished his book yet, hello ad/hd, but it kickstarted a desire in me that I haven’t felt since I began writing Giving Cheek last fall.
My life is about to be upended in a few short months as we move to a new state. I’m currently surrounded by boxes and empty cupboards and closets and a laundry list of things that have to be done before the truck comes.
So, I’m figuring out how to mesh the two together. How do I get my writing time in, my packing time, my daughter’s school time, my daughters activities? Something is going to have give at some point and it’s probably going to be the writing. It will be put on hold while life transitions to a new phase.
I’m really okay with that. My hope is that in the fall the girls will be back in school and I will have the quiet I need to dedicate myself to writing and editing and enjoying my new found love of writing. Because I do love it. I am excited about it and I haven’t been this excited in a long time.
Sitting here reading advice from a Mystery writer mentor while perusing the site and advice of a different author whose work I admire, about rewriting and revising and showing versus telling. It’s all too much for my brain at almost 8:30 am on a Monday morning.
So, instead I come here and write. Where I’m not being judged. Where no one is determining if my plot or arc are working together. I don’t even know how to break all this down.
I have a wonderful lady editing my work currently and will give out her information if someone should ask for it. I’m waiting to hear back from her before I make all the changes all at once. I want to hear her opinion and her corrections before I do my major overhaul.
Trying to talk myself back from tears at this entire process. If only writing were as easy as simply putting words out on paper and everyone liked it, agents included. 🙂
Ah, if only.
The other reason the tears are near the surface is because my Bailey has been diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and her kidney’s are a bit quirky. She’s now on special food, medication, and I have to give her fluids 2-3 times a week. She’s due for a recheck in a couple of weeks.
It’s hard to see her, knowing her life is winding down, and there’s not anything I can do about it. Excuse me while I go find the tissues again.