Monthly Archives: April 2013

Book Review: The Night Circus

I loved it. I almost didn’t finish it. I’m so confused.

http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/505089719

Bottom line: I had issues, but would recommend giving it a shot* 🙂

*(As A.M.B. noted, I might not recommend shelling out a lot of money for it, but read a sample, borrow it from a friend, get it from the library… try before you buy, maybe? You might love it)


Sensual Writing

I’m not talking about sexytimes. Sorry if I got you excited, there. Maybe in another post, hmm?

No, this post is a little bit “here’s what I do” and a bit more “what do you do?” Again, not sexytimes. Honestly, I don’t think we know each other well enough to share that. What I mean is, we’re going to discuss how we work sensory experiences into our writing. Yay!

Engaging a reader’s senses immerses her in the story, making it real in her mind. This is one advantage books have over film. Movies give us everything in terms of sight and sound (and I think that “everything” is a point against them, too), but can’t bring us the somehow-pleasant rotting leaf and moss smell of an autumn forest, or let us experience the flavor of a fresh blueberry bursting in our mouths (or in a character’s, but the reader experiences it too). They can show us an actor touching a fluffy bunny and saying, “ooh, fluffy!” and smiling, but a book can let us feel that fur that’s so soft it almost seems to disappear under our touch. Books rock, guys, and as writers we have incredible power to build a world that’s not only seen and heard, but experienced completely. You can’t tell me that’s not magic.

Mmm, forest...

Mmm,  autumn forest…

Well, then. On to the senses, how I as a reader like to see them used in books, how I use them when writing, and how you lovely people feel about this (if you care to participate, and I know you want to).

Sight is fairly obvious. Unless your characters are blind, they’re going to give us a visual description of what’s happening around them.  Sight is powerful; most of us rely on it heavily in real life. Sight-words bring visions to our minds of beauty or horror. Sometimes we go overboard; I’m sure we’re all guilty of it when we have a particularly powerful vision for a scene and want the reader to understand every nuance. But when I’m reading, I don’t need to be told every little detail about a setting or a character or what someone is wearing. It gets boring, and over-description is best left in first drafts. But then, too little visual description can leave a reader feeling cold or lost, with nothing to anchor him to the scene. One approach that can be very effective is to let a few details speak for the whole. Lace doilies and meticulously organized knick-knacks tell a reader that a room is fussy (and probably its owner, too), even if every teacup in the collection on the wall isn’t described in detail, and even if we don’t say “the room looked fussy.”

Another tip I’ve found useful when it comes to visual descriptions: specific language trumps vague, both because it’s often more concise and because it’s more accurate. “Big, fancy house” takes up more space and tells us less than “mansion,” and sounds clumsy in most contexts.   “Topiary” brings a more refined picture to mind than “bushes cut into shapes of animals and geometric thingamabobs.” When it comes to colours the options are almost limitless, and specific names for colours tell so much more than “light ____.” Amethyst or violet, cerulean or navy, butter or lemon?  Changing one word can add great depth to the world your reader sees, for better or worse.* Oh, and speaking of light, it’s a great tool for creating atmosphere, too. Harsh, soft, dim, bright, cool, warm, blinding, direct, filtered… Lovely.

Hearing is probably the next-most frequently used sense in writing; in a dialogue-heavy piece it might be the most important. Obviously characters hear others speaking, but what do they hear in those voices? Hesitation? Confidence? It’s important, beyond what the words themselves tell us. In a close perspective what a character thinks she hears can be wrong, and that makes things interesting, too.

What else do characters hear, and what does that tell us? The sound of a horse’s hoofs scuffing through drifts of pine needles and dry leaves indicates that this road isn’t used often.  A frantic heartbeat betrays anxiety even when a person is presenting a calm demeanour (assuming our POV character is close enough to hear it, obviously; noticing it from across the room is just weird). What they don’t hear can be just as important. A forest shouldn’t be silent; noticing a lack of animal noises might have saved a few of my characters a lot of trouble. Does music play a part in your writing? I don’t mean what you listen to while you type, I mean for the characters. Music conveys meaning and adds much to the atmosphere. Use your power wisely.

Touch starts us moving into the less-often-written senses, and that’s a shame. There’s a real danger of sensory overload if we use it too much, but touch adds a lovely dimension to any description. The texture of cloth tells us something about its quality. How had a friend squeezes someone in a hug says a lot about their relationship and their emotional reaction to whatever else is happening. There are many ways to describe pain, all of them pulling the reader deep into the experience, and all in slightly different directions.  I dare you to try to write a really good sex scene without describing touch. Really, do it and I’ll give you a gold star. Usually, though, if you want your reader to be truly immersed in the scene, you’re going to need to let them feel it.

Tip: If you’re not feeling confident about describing touch when you write, practice it in your head as you go about your day. Have a headache? Figure out exactly how you would describe that particular pain to someone who’s never had one. No, it’s not a pain in your head. It’s more, and it’s more specific. It’s connected to things this person has experienced or imagined before. There’s creeping pain, stabbing pain, squeezing pain, twisting pain, pain that feels like an upset stomach in your head… you get the idea. When you pet your cat or dog (or companion cactus, whatever floats your boat), choose words in your mind that describe the experience, and go beyond soft, coarse, or prickly. It will start to come naturally.

Smell. I have a smelly character. That is, one who notices smells more than some people might. She gets that from me. My perception of the world is filtered through my nose; one of my favourite parts of walking Jack on cold days is smelling the different woods that people are burning in their homes. Some are pleasant and campfire-like; some remind me of pipe smoke, and one house burns something that smells like cat pee. Gross. This character inherited that trait from me, and it makes some scenes very fun to write. Again, too much can be overwhelming, and timing is everything: she wouldn’t report on the smell of a vase of flowers if someone was attacking her with it, but she noticed the foul breath of the guy who was crushing her. A character (or narrator) only needs to tell us what’s important in the moment and affecting the story directly. But the world, to me, comes into sharper focus when I know what it smells like.

I’ll admit it, I neglect taste. With so much smelling going on, I rarely think it adds anything. Maybe that’s a mistake. I use it, but not nearly as much as smell; after all, there are usually only so many things that end up in a person’s mouth, and I don’t need to describe every meal.  I do have heartleaf bark, which smells sweet and tastes bitter,  but nothing really huge. Anyone here have a wicked example of how you’ve used taste in a scene? Do share. Another personal note on taste: it needs to be realistic, or I’ll laugh at the description. “His lips tasted like cherries” only makes sense if he was eating them moments before the kiss, or he’s using fancy lip gloss that makes me ask some very distracting questions. Otherwise, just no.

Also, I will totally think of this guy.

Taste doesn’t always have to be about food or kisses, either. I’d love to give you a direct quote from “Bag of Bones,” but parts of my Stephen King collection have gone missing. Much of the story is set at a house on a lake, in an area with a dark, mysterious history, and more spooky atmosphere than should be legal. The taste of the lake water is used several times; not so much that it bacomes an “oh, jeez, not again” thing, but it’s a unifying element. Whether the main character, Mike Noonan, is swimming, remembering, fantasizing, having a premonition or experiencing a horrifying vision of a long-since-past death, there’s that odd, metallic taste (and smell, they’re related) tying everything together.

Heck, let’s talk about another book that I think uses every sense to build a world that’s so deep and rich you could swim in it. I had trouble getting through The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern for various reasons, but the world the author created kept me coming back even when the plot and characters didn’t grab me. From the first pages, the circus is described so beautifully that it breaks my heart to know I’ll never visit it. The visual descriptions are astounding, the stark colour palate of the circus striking, the important set pieces and characters so real you can almost touch them. But there’s so much more. I can’t think about the circus without smelling the warm caramel and popcorn in the air, hearing the silk tents flapping in the breeze, feeling the warmth of that mysterious bonfire on my skin. And the food… Oh, the food! Never have you tasted anything like this in real life. I’m sure some people think the description was boring or over-done, but I just wanted to wrap myself in that world and fall asleep, and I don’t say that about many books.

Now, I asked you all (if you wished) to bring us a sample of how you use sensory input in your writing, so I guess it’s only fair that I share, too.  I came up with one example for you that used all five senses. Please bear in mind that this is a small, unusually sense-tacular portion of a larger scene; I don’t usually pile it on like this, but this poor girl has been sleeping in the woods, frightened out of her mind, for several nights. She deserves to be a little overwhelmed by civilization, dammit, and it serves as an example of what I mean. From chapter 10. Not a professional driver, not a closed course, feel free to try this at home:

… 

After a few nights on the road, the room was like heaven. My exhausted mind passed over most of it, taking in only the white wing chair and sofa facing a stone fireplace, a few shelves of books, and the most glorious bed I’d ever seen. Fluffy pillows crowded next to the headboard, and thick quilts waited folded at the foot, begging to be snuggled into. When I took off my boots, the carpet was soft and deep under my feet. “Oh,” I groaned, and flopped face-first onto the bed. Sleep began to crowd my mind as soon as my face sank into the feather mattress.

“You go ahead,” Aren said from somewhere very far away. “I’ll sleep on the chair.”

“Hmrflphmrmbn.”

“Pardon?”

My head weighed a thousand pounds, but I lifted it to tell him, “I said, ‘that’s not fair, you take the bed.’” I mashed my face back into the sheets, then lifted my head again to add, “it’s all so clean!”

I heard him moving around the room, but couldn’t open my eyes. “I think I’ll be more comfortable on the chair than you’ll be on the sofa,” he said. “Go ahead and sleep, I’ll see what they have to eat around here.” I barely understood his words, and was only vaguely aware of a blanket being pulled up over my shoulders.

The most beautiful scent greeted me when I woke, clean and floral. As much as I wanted to stay curled up in that beautiful bed, I had to see where it was coming from; after three days on the road, I knew it wasn’t from me. My hair was thick with grease,  my skin felt like it had a layer of dirt and smoke ground into it, and the perfection of my surroundings was only making it more bothersome. If only it was a—

“A bath!” A door I’d been too distracted to notice earlier stood open, revealing the edge of a tub in a tiny room, steam rising from the water that filled it almost to the brim.

“Excellent timing.” Aren sat in the chair, clean and shaved and wearing fresh clothes. Anyone who’d seen us enter the inn would hardly have recognized him.  “I asked them to prepare a bath for you. Nothing personal, I just thought you might like one.”

“That’s all right, I know I stink.” My legs insisted that it wasn’t time to get up, and only reluctantly carried me past him to the bath. I cleaned my teeth with one of the mint-flavored cloths stacked at the edge of the wash-basin, double-checked that the door was closed tight, then stripped off my filthy clothes and stepped into the tub.

The water was hot enough to turn my skin a deep pink as soon as I slipped in, but I didn’t care. I was happy to let it burn the grime of the previous days out of me. I soaked until my skin wrinkled and used the heavy bar of soap to scrub every inch of myself twice over.

… 

So there you go. Things we see, things we hear (or don’t really hear), feeling comfort and heat, the scent of the bath (and after this, the food) that are needed so badly, tasting mint in an icky mouth, all filtered through one character’s perceptions. This is why I like reading and writing first-person stories. I love the immediacy and the meaning.

One more thought, on using the phrase “I heard.” This is most often a no-no; we don’t usually need everything to be filtered through a character’s perceptions so obviously, and it adds a layer of separation between the reader and the scene, which you probably don’t want. “The hippopotamus plunged from the turret” is more immediate than “Dilbert Von Slanglesteen saw the hippopotamus plunge from the turret.” So why did I use it up there? Because the character’s personal experience is what’s important, the contrast between hearing and not seeing. Like any rule, it’s made to be broken; just make sure you have a darn good reason for doing it.

Well, that concludes today’s post. Probably nothing you didn’t already know, of course, but it’s a topic I love and one of my favourite parts of editing- that’s where I add and subtract these things, playing until it all makes my happy.

Go on, now. Talk to me!

*Note: you take your chances with more obscure colour descriptions. Google tells us that “puce” is a dark pink (or something to do with fleas, apparently), but it just makes some people think of (puke) green/brown. If you use a numbered paint chip reference or an obscure descriptive name  that only has meaning to you, you’ve lost me. Telling me that her dress was “flower-coloured” doesn’t help. Or that “his eyes were the colour of a windy day.” So… invisible? With things blowing in them? What?**

**More colour footnote! The words you use to describe colours can bring emotional impact or affect how the reader sees things. So if I describe a car as “baby-poop brown,” you’re going to know I probably don’t think much of it. I assume that if I used the factory name, it would sound better. If not, the factory really needs to get on that.


Short Story: Unassigned Rabbit by Abigail Shaw

I thought this story was a fun way to kick off my morning, so I’m going to share it with all of you. I think I’m going to spend my day wondering what happened next…

Short Story: Unassigned Rabbit. (by Abigail Shaw at High Heels and Dinosaurs)


Manic Monday

First of all, thank you to all of you who commented, liked, or otherwise showed support last night when I mentioned my kid’s cough. It means a lot to me.

As many of you might have predicted, his cough was better this morning, because why would it stick around when the doctor needed to hear it? But we went to the ER anyway, a very nice doctor saw us, and the poor kid might have a lingering case of strep (even though he has no fever and is at this moment running around the yard yelling, “BUT SHE’S MY WIFE!”). So antibiotics it is to try to get rid of the itty-bitty pustules in his throat, and holy CRAP that’s a disgusting word. That’s going on the list, which you can still feel free to add to. Ugh.

What was I saying? Oh, right. So that took up most of the day, because the hospital is 45 minutes away, ER’s are busy, and then there was McDonald’s and the library. I was going to post something a bit more substantial today about why I don’t feel qualified to post writing advice, only personal experience and example, but my brain is too fried to do it. Basically, I’m an unqualified bum, and maybe I’ll expand on that another day. 🙂

Oh, speaking of the library, which should I read first?

20130429-163601.jpg


Well, That Was Quick…

Today, I mean. Probably because I slept a big chunk of it away after the Demon Headache dug his filthy claws into my cranium and reduced me to a quivering mess of stupid. That bastard.

On the other hand, today and tonight kind of can’t go quickly enough. I’m going to have to take my older son to the emergency room tomorrow to see if he can get a puffer or something for this cough he’s had for a month, which OTC medicine isn’t touching. Why the emergency room? Because right now it takes a MONTH to get in to see our doctor. She’s great, but I really can’t wait that long. The poor kid’s not complaining, but it’s getting worse, and he’s going to be missing school if it doesn’t go away soon. This happens every time he gets sick; his little brother’s cough goes away after a week, but S’s can last for three or more. It’s so unfair.

If you’re the praying type and would care to add healing and a restful night for my poor kid to your list tonight, I’d certainly appreciate it. 🙂


Let’s Wrap This Week Up!

I hope it’s been a good one for all of you. For me, it’s been about the same as it always is, which is pretty fine by me. Spring is coming, if somewhat reluctantly. I’m ripping my hair out over revisions and edits, but that’s a good thing (long-term, I mean), and things are looking good. I might have tightened things up too much… we’ll see if my CPs give me a “Whaaaa–?!” for not giving enough information. Odds are, it’ll be fine. What else… Oh,  Captain America helped me do the dishes a few days ago, and now he’s playing “Garbage Dump” on the living room floor. Can’t beat that! WIPpet Wednesday left no one in the story bleeding, crying, vomiting, or trapped in a dragon cave, which is a nice change of pace.

(It’s not ALL that horrible stuff. That just makes for really fun teasers)

In other news, I’ve been nominated for a couple of blog awards, both of which require me to nominate 10 or 11 other bloggers. It sounds like fun, but I really don’t know which of you are into these things, or who’s done them already. It’s a problem. I’m honoured to be nominated (SOMEBODY LIKES ME!), but I don’t know who to share the love with. Hmm…

On to next week! Here in DtP land, I mostly have no idea. On Tuesday we’re going to have a discussion about using senses in writing to create… well, everything. Yep, I said discussion. I’m not a professional or an expert, and you guys have as much to offer as I do. So if you have a scene (or part of one) from your own work that shows off your sensory scene-building skills, polish that sucker up and bring it for show and tell! If you’re not a writer but you have an example from a book you’ve read, or would like to share your own preferences as a reader, bring those, too. Care to confess how the smell of your own feet inspires you when you’re writing the sexy stuff? Maybe just keep that to yourself. Over there, in the corner.  Keep going. There you go. No, keep your shoes on.

Other than that, who knows? Maybe a book review. I was going to wait and post one when I finish The Night Circus, but that might never happen, so maybe something else I’ve read recently.  Or a photographic tour of our sad little garden-to-be. Or the story of how a publisher lost a paperback sale yesterday by charging a butt-load of money for an e-book. Or chickens! Why not?

I don’t even know what’s coming for WIPpet Wednesday. That’ll be the first of the month. Awkwarrrrrrrd…

And with that, I leave you. I feel like I should leave you with something happy. How about…

A cat in a shark suit riding a roomba?

Someone posted this on my facebook wall, and I think it’s nearly perfect. First of all, it’s a cat who apparently has no problem wearing a stupid costume, and it is quite happily riding a roomba around like this is completely normal. Am I the only one who imagined a “Haters Gonna Hate” caption under him? He knows he’s a badass, and he doesn’t care what you think. And then there’s his sidekick, who happens to be a duckling, which is both absurd and wonderful. Really, I think the only flaw in the video is the dog. He looks sad and embarrassed, and the added element just takes away from the balanced surrealism of the rest. /end critique/

There’s a version that cuts it off before the dog, but I thought the original creator of the video deserved the views. I’m too nice.

In conclusion, cats are awesome. If I had another point I was trying to make today, that video just made me lose it.

Have a great weekend!


Inspiration for Writers Spending Themselves in a Worthy Cause

This is perfect.

Melissa Janda - A Time to Write

After reading Jill London’s post about some of her favourite quotes, I decided to share one that I love by Theodore Roosevelt.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how theodore-roosevelt_114086tthe strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never…

View original post 29 more words


Music, Stories, and Much Appreciation

I’m going to be honest: I had no idea what to post today. Much as I would have liked to post pictures of something uplifting like signs of spring, I have none to show that aren’t man-made, and how depressing is that? I thought about bumping Tuesday’s post up to today, but that just seemed like cheating. Random facts about myself? Who cares, right?

But today demanded something, if only because this blog has reached 100 followers, and we need to party.

Not a huge number by most standards, no. But I didn’t expect more than about five, so this is big. And I’m blessed with some of the best blog readers around. Really. I never expected to have people commenting on my posts the way you do, and I love it. You always have something to add, or some way to make me smile, and I appreciate that. There’s no reason you all should want to be here reading my ramblings and word-vomit on a regular basis; I’m nobody special, especially when it comes to the writing stuff. I’m an amateur, a nobody, but you folks encourage and inspire me every day, here and through your own writing.

I’m going to stop before I tear up. What I’m saying is, thank you. All of you, whether you comment or lurk. I’m glad you’re here.

*AHEM*

So, what to do today, besides get disgustingly mushy over a group of people who are mostly strangers to me?

A party needs music, right? And music is important to writing. THEME BONUS!

I know from reading your blogs that many of you have songs that in your minds represent your characters in some way. Many of you have entire play-lists devoted to each of them, a feat which requires more attention and organizational skills than I possess. There are several songs that remind me of my characters, too; I won’t go into all of that here, but I’ll share one that gave me a strange experience, and that I continue to love. It would be great if any of you wanted to share your own songs and experiences in the comments (and no judging people based on music they love, please. I hate that.)

Let’s rewind back to November. There I was, typing like mad for NaNoWriMo, trying to get a first draft of Torn out into the computer. I’d just got my iPhone back in the summer and was LOVING it. You see, I’d never had a working iPod or MP3 player, so having all of my favourite music at my fingertips was just blowing my mind. Yes, I’m easily amused.  I was having fun buying songs I liked on the radio and then exploring more from those same artists.

I had a few Marianas Trench songs already, and spent some time listening to iTunes song samples for others. Hey look, there was a song called Ever After! How nice. Sample was interesting, I bought the song. Because, hello, affordable music.

I listened to it. I freaked out. Seriously. If you remember looking out your window one day late last November and seeing something weird flailing about, that was me. I was out there. Freaking.

Why? Because I could have sworn the song was about Aren. Not just about him, but about the story I’d written, the one I was working on, and (just to really melt my brain), a couple of lines that could symbolically reference something planned for book 3.  The emotional tone is bang-on for the character. Not only that, but “Ever After” is one of the threads that runs through Bound and ties things together, thematically speaking.

HOLY CRAP.*

It’s kind of a weird piece in some ways. It’s one of these songs they do that takes bits and pieces of others on the album and smooshes them together to make something that works. I kind of love that idea, but that’s not the point. The lyrics probably don’t mean much to some people, and to others they’ll mean something that, oddly enough, is not related to my effing books (I know, shut up about it already, right?)

It’ll never be a single, that’s for sure. But it opens an album that’s been getting me through a lot of writing sessions. I don’t know why I find this music so relaxing when most of my real-life stress is caused my yelling and whining, but I do. 😉

Want to hear it? You don’t have to, it’s OK. But if you’re curious, here you go. Oh, and fair warning, there’s a CUSS WORD. I have a strange and disturbing kind of love for the way Josh Ramsay says f*ck, but some of you might not appreciate it so much. 😉

There you go. Probably means nothing to you, right? That’s what I thought. I love that about music, though. It’s a different experience for every listener, and meanings change based on our own experiences, mind-sets, and emotional states. A song that makes you think of a book you’ve read or a character you’ve written might make me think of something from my childhood, or someone I knew in high school. Maybe you love it, and I get nothing out of it. There’s so much room for interpretation. Also, music is kind of a mystery to me. I appreciate it, I like what I like, but as to how it’s written or why the sounds work together? You might as well ask me about astrophysics. I have no clue.  But I can still appreciate it, even if my musical preferences aren’t impressively obscure.

So there you go. One song that would have caused me great embarrassment if I’d been in public when I first heard it, and that continues to give me chills.

Your turn!  One song, one character, and tell us why you make that association. Also, some good party music, if you’d like to throw that in there. Bring your best party hat, fancy cupcakes, whatever your drink of choice is, and let’s celebrate you guys. Because you’re the most bestest. 🙂

*CRAP is not the word that was in my mind, I’m just trying to keep it civil, here.


WIPpet Wednesday- The Other Side

WIPpet Wednesday! *happy dance*

Really, my favourite regularly-scheduled blog day of the week. It’s fun, the people are great, and hey, it’s on Wednesday, so it helps me remember to put the garbage out. Bonus!

I really wasn’t going to post this one, because when you get to chapter 24, you get spoilers. I do love this moment, though, and after all the crap I’ve put my characters through in the past few weeks of Wednesdays, I’ll let them have this. But don’t worry, the crap will be a-flyin’ soon, and there’s a lot more story to go. I think all you need to know for this bit is that they’re at a fancy-schmancy party, Kai is a good friend of Aren’s who’s been pestering him about this, and this is not a love triangle. Just throwing that out there. 😉

So SPOILER ALERT!!! (not that you didn’t see it coming, right?)

From Chapter 24:

It took me a minute to find Rowan in the group. She stumbled in her high shoes and laughed, and a young mer woman with green hair took her by the hand to pull her along. My heart twisted in my chest, and Kai smirked. “You poor bastard,” he said, and stepped forward to show Rowan to her seat.

The dress she wore hugged her body in all of the right places and the colour made her skin glow. She turned back to me and smiled, and at that moment she wasn’t cute or pretty. She was perfect.

Dude. Really? Really? 

Anyway…

Want to join in the fun? The rules are simple: post a snippet of a work in progress that somehow relates to the day’s date. Be creative if you want (like April 24 could = 2 paragraphs from page 4, or 24 lines from anywhere, or…). When you’re done, post your contribution at the link here, and be sure to visit everyone else and let them know you were by. Oh, and thank KL Schwengel for hosting, ’cause she’s kind of great. 🙂


I’ve Got a Dream

Some of you will disagree with everything I say here, and that’s okay. I hope this doesn’t get too depressing for anyone. It’s not meant to be. This is what happens when reality gently taps me on the shoulder and reminds me of what’s important. (I’ve re-written this post four times already, I’m done.)

Let’s start with this, because it’s amazing:

Damn, I love me some Flynn Rider.

Those guys have dreams. Perhaps not realistic dreams, but they’ve got ’em. Don’t we all? I know I do, and I know (because I’m a little psychic because I read your wonderful blogs) that many of you share my dream. Not for me– for yourselves.

We want to write. We want other people to read and love what we write, and we’d really like to get recognition and at least a wee bit of money for that. We want to see our books on a shelf and go, “Yes, that’s mine. I did that.” And then if you’re me, dissolve into a puddle of tears because this is what you’ve always wanted.

Doesn’t sound like so much to ask, does it? Some of you are laughing right now because you know that it IS a lot to ask, and it’s a hard dream to have. And it’s a dream that an unbelievable number of people share, all of them caring as much about their work and believing in it as hard as I do mine. I find this very humbling.

It’s a great dream, don’t get me wrong. When you love what you’re doing and there are examples in front of you every day of people just like you making it, getting their books published and turning into massive bestsellers, you think, why not me? When you get to the part where you’re collecting rejections, there are stories of those very same authors and books getting  just as many rejections. You think, “it’s part of the process.” Well, I assume you do. I don’t have much experience with this part yet, but I will, one way or another. We all do, if we put our stuff out there.

We maintain hope, but  at the same time, we understand that for most of us, it’s not going to happen. Whether because we’re deluding ourselves when we think our work is good enough (not you guys, your work is the cat’s pajamas. I’m saying me and those shady-looking writers over there), or because of a variety of factors beyond our control*, we’ll be lucky to see our beloved words in print.

Oh, we can skew the odds in our favor, for sure. We can read up on writing craft (and read everything else we can get our grubby mitts on and learn from), we can make our work the best it can be, we can market the heck out of it, we can go to conventions** and meet agents or editors who just might remember us if we make a super-good impression, we can spend hours and days crafting the perfect query letter. We can hire great editors and take their advice, we can find amazing cover artists and devise the perfect pricing strategy. It makes a difference. It doesn’t guarantee success.

Depressed yet? I’m not.

There’s a kind of freedom, for me at least, in knowing that the odds are long and the road hard, in understanding that some things are beyond my control, and that that’s absolutely, perfectly fine. It helps me understand the difference between goals and dreams. Writing the best books you can and doing the best you can for them, that’s a worthwhile goal. Having a bestseller that’s made into a blockbuster movie and then there’s the money and let’s say a super hot actor falls in love with the author behind it all (hey, why not, right?) is a dream. If it keeps you going, it’s a good dream. It’s not a reasonable goal, though, and we’re all going to be mighty disappointed if we make that kind of luck and success a goal we expect to achieve.

Optimism is necessary, and it’s fantastic. Realism is, too, but in a different way. I say we need both.

This brings me to another, tangentially related topic. You know those people who seem to pop up on every agent’s blog asking what the next big thing is going to be, as though they can write it to order and be guaranteed an agent/contract/publication/bestseller? That’s hilarious, isn’t it? Kind of adorable.

There’s a reason they say to write what you love, and to write because you love it, not because you think you could be the next Stephanie Meyer if only you could catch the wave of the next trend in publishing. Odds are you’ll put a lot of work into something you don’t actually care about, and have little to show for it. No matter what you do, books that aren’t as good as yours will probably rise higher. It sucks, but it happens (not mentioning any names). But if you love what you do, believe in your stories and feel passionately that this is what you’re meant to be doing, you’re not wasting your time. Whatever level of commercial or critical success you achieve (or don’t), you’ve done something worthwhile.

I like that idea.

So yes, I’ll polish up this book that I’m working on, wash its face and send it out into the world, telling it to play nice with the other kids (but not too nice) and not to trade its carrot sticks for cookies in the lunch room. And then I’ll get back to work on the next one, because that’s what I do.

Publishing may sometimes seem like an exercise in futility (and I’ve deleted paragraphs outlining why this is so, you’re very welcome), but writing never is. Not if it’s what you love.

*(that agent just signed someone and doesn’t care to add another just now; your book isn’t on-trend and the publisher doesn’t want to take a chance; you decide to self-publish and through the whims of fate and Amazon your book never gets any exposure)

**If you can do this, I’ll try to only hate you a little for it.


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