Musings

 One of the funny parts of writing is how it has this very. long. internship. It's self led, unpaid, and largely low stakes, but make no bones about it, the unpaid lead up to a writing career is an odd time of self policing, tone watching, hopeful posting, and an evolution both of writing style and in the style one presents of themselves. 

It's been a long time for me since I blogged regularly. Mostly, the problem with blogging is that the advice is to not overshare. 

Which is pretty hard. How do I not talk about my WIP which is literally carving itself from my flesh? That's not entirely an overstatement, by the way. When I draft a novel, I have to drive myself to bring the words to life. It's an act of will, lost sleep, and pure stubbornness to be the person to see this thing into reality. 

But then don't talk about it because it might be embarrassing if you query too early and it crashes and burns--or so the advice goes.

Which means I can put up a projects page that will read "Secret Project A, status: Classified. Secret Project B, status: Classified (but very not at the same stage of Secret Project A. Secret Project C, Status: YOU GUESSED IT: CLASSIFIED!"

But is that any better than "A Really Great Novel, status: Querying agent 151, rejections: 100, pending: 51"?

I don't have a good answer for this because I'm given both sides of the coin: share more and share nothing. Obviously, the answer is somewhere in the middle.

Last year I started querying a novel I had put A LOT of work into. A Lot. More than usual. Probably three times as much as usual because I've been worried that I don't put in enough work before querying. Let's just say sometimes it's more than just the amount of work one puts into a book. I have never received such fast, sharp Nos. They came in hours and days rather than weeks and months. Clearly, I hit a nerve, just not the one I'd hoped. 

I stopped querying that piece because 2020 went pear-shaped in an awful hurry. 

I wrote a proposal (thanks, no thanks. Your writing is great, but this isn't quite what I want)

I wrote another book (why not? make it the most ridiculous thing to exist)

Then I entered a pitch contest (why am I such a sucker for pitch contests???) (oh, right, it's because I have five novels, complete and revised that I still love even if I haven't found the right outlet for them). 

I revised a whole novel (a big revision, too). 

I saw an opportunity to do something fun so I wrote a short (classification: Cute as hell (yes, that is an inside joke)). 

And now I stand at the edge of revising my ridiculous novel. I probably love it too much in it's broken rough draft form, but I also love it too much to let it stay broken and hiding in the dark of my hard drive. 

Bigger than I thought

I'm working on a big revision right now. It's for a big book. It's not like anything I've ever written. It's so much not like anything I've ever written that I keep putting it off. It scares me. 
What if I completely fail this really beautiful idea?
What if I'm just not as good as I've always thought I was and the real reason I normally write fluff is because I'm scared to learn that I'm not good enough to write anything else? If I don't try, I won't know, right?

These are the the thoughts plaguing me as I tackle this monster, and by monster I mean a three part story that MUST be a three part story, and each part is about 90K, so I can't just smoosh them all together into one really long book. 
And it's full of pain and jealousy and duty and family and revenge and forgiveness, and I never write like this, so I must be screwing this all up. 

I feel like a fool for hoping. I feel like an idiot for trying. And I'm completely convinced that I'm just falling flat on my face, and everyone can see it except me.

Someone very helpfully suggested I send it to a beta. 

I did. I sent it to beta readers in 2017. My betas loved it. They thought it was great, but in 2017, I could see where it needed something more. More depth, more character, more something. It's taken me 2 years to figure out what that something is, and I love it even more, but as I'm standing here trying to implement that SOMETHING, I'm terrified that I can't do it. I'm terrified that I'm just flinging words around in the hopes that something sticks to the wall. 

So that's me, scared that I'm destroying an idea I love and thinking I'll never write another story like this one. Which just means I'm a writer with the kinds of worries a writer has. 

This is an Insecure Writer's Support Group Post. You can visit the Ninja Captain here, and don't forget to say hi to this month's cohosts: Gwen Gardner, Doreen McGettigan, Tyrean Martinson, Chemist Ken, and Cathrina Constantine.

What to do when things go wrong in a pitch contest

I made a video from the Writing Cave. I talk a little bit about revisions but mostly about Pitch Wars and what to do if you don't get picked for PitchWars.

Good luck, and happy writing!

I used to be a writer like you, but then I took a contract to the knee

I know I’ve sort of already talked about how the time for writing shrivels up as soon as you sign a contract, so people stop writing on their blogs, but life after contract can really mess with your ability to produce words of all kinds.

And when the words don’t come, a writer doesn’t feel like a writer. All over the internet—right now—there are memes that basically say you’re only a writer if you write EVERY SINGLE DAY!!! I know, that’s sort of a gold standard, but it’s also, for some of us, completely impossible. I simply cannot write every single day. I work 10 hour shifts, ride herd on a child reluctant to eat dinner/brush hair/teeth/do homework/clean her room, cook the foods, and other wise do all the things that make a normal house a normal house.

So yeah, sometimes, I don’t have any words at the end of a day—after all, I can only throw hot dogs at my daughter for dinner so many nights in a row. It happens. But the world is busy stuffing this idea that only true writers—writers who really deserve success—are even capable of writing every day. It’s as if I’m only a really real writer if I punish myself by toiling on my novel every single day. Now, not to put too fine a point on it, but there’s a word for that—insane. Because that’s what I’ll be if I write at the end of every day.

And this impossibility adds to the impostor syndrome many writers are already feeling because not only is the editor “just being nice” but now I can’t even manage to write every day? Total fake.

Oh, but there’s more (there’s always more). When I do have time to write, instead of running off into the sunset capturing some new novel, all that “free time” is now shoveled into editing that novel that just got the contract.

And editing is something of a shock initially. Every comment from the editor (you know, the one just being nice?) feels like a personal attack. So not only are the words not coming, there’s independent confirmation that all the words you ever made sucked. It all confirms the self fulfilling prophecy of mediocrity.

This, to some extent happened to me to the point that I haven’t finished a new novel in two and a half years. I’m hopeful to finish a rough draft real soon, but this is a big reason why writers with newly minted books seem to dry up and blow away with the dust.

In truth, like all things in publishing, it’s different for everyone. Good luck, and keep your chin up (it’s easier to breathe when the water is closing in over you if you keep your chin up).

Being my own third wheel: The Bio

Welcome back to my weekly series about Life After the Contract where I talk about the things that happen after you have a contract that largely go untalked about. Last week I talked about how as soon as a contract exists you need a bazillion things previously not needed, causing a huge emergency time rush. One of the most agonizing things is the biography.

Under normal circumstances, I don’t mind talking about myself. In fact, I tend to think of myself as a key eyewitness in my life. Perhaps my deductions into the reasoning behind certain actions are somewhat amateurish leading to the occasional emotional outburst (hey, if I were a professional, I’d be able to channel that stuff properly), but otherwise, I’m something of an expert.

But once there is a needed to describe myself to other people as though it isn’t me doing the describing… let’s just say it got interesting. Oh, and did I mention that I basically needed it yesterday?

In a nutshell, the bio has to tell the world who you are, why anyone should care, and what you’ve done. And you have a very short space to do it in. Oh, and did I mention that there are literally millions of people who have written bios, and no one is ever going to pick up your book base off your bio? But everyone knows that some people might pick up your book based off your bio, it just depends on if it can stand out (which is different for every person, because, you know, some people like Papyrus font and some people would like to burn Papyrus from every word processor).

And it’s traditionally done in third person.

I talk about myself as though I am not myself? Which sort of makes me feel like I should wear a sign along the lines of “Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain. She is in no way biased about this bio currently being read.”

In short it makes me crazy to talk about myself like that. Worse, if a writer had been at all prepared—and as people will no doubt recall, I was not—this should already have been written. Which means a writer with contract in hand has a sudden need to talk about themselves as if they were someone else bragging about themselves and might potentially be suffering from the solid sting of embarrassingly knowing they should have done something sooner. This knowledge that you should have written it already REALLY give the imposter syndrome some nice material to work with. And, because you’re rushing, it’s not your best work. Which means, you might be pushing that imposter alarm a few more times. *sigh*

In short folks, learn from my fail.

I’m so happy for you! Don’t mind the green, it’s a seaweed wrap

Sometimes, in my youth, I imagined that one day, all of my dreams would come true, and I would get a sort of ticker tape parade where everyone honored me and my accomplishments. As I got older, the confetti parade morphed into the book deal and the signing with an agent and all the trappings of success in publishing. Obviously, this is all some sort of dream. It’s not like confetti launches when you sign a contract (how cool would that be?).

To make things somewhat worse, right after signing, not only is there no confetti parade, there are no great lights blinking over your head to let everyone around you suddenly know that you’re a signed writer and your really, real book will be out in the world (soon—okay, soon by some very lengthy scales). There’s nothing to see, and for many writers, there won’t be a thing to even hold in your hand for a year, so it doesn’t feel real.

And then, to make it worse, all around people are having what looks like the Confetti parade. They have the Signed With AWESOME AGENT posts; the I SIGNED A 6Figure Contract; The MY BOOK LANDED ON THE NYT Bestseller list. Oh, it’s exhausting sometimes to hold your little candle of success up in the world so noisy and filled with blowtorches of success—and wishing your little candle was more like a Hollywood special effect. But it isn’t (well, not yet you tell yourself, but there’s this feeling that it might never come true). And then after being inundated by all this noise, all this bluster threatening to blow out your little candle of success, there comes One More Person with GREAT News.

Oh, dear folks, I will tell you jealousy is an emotion you are not supposed to have. It’s not supposed to exist. I’m supposed to be a gracious and magnanimous person. And I am—most of the time. Right after I signed, I suffered from this emotion I’m not supposed to feel. I’d been taught that jealousy is bad. I’m supposed to ignore it. I’m supposed to be able to “just get over it.” So there it is, jealousy in all its hideous—shameful—presence. And the book that lands on the bestseller list is a fan fic of a fan fic, widely panned by critics as the worst stinking pile of poo ever, and it’s selling 100,000 copies a day.

UGH.

And I’m jealous of that pile of poo, an unenviable position to begin with, but the very act of being jealous is also shameful. AAAAGH!!!

There is only one response: grin and bear it. If I can’t manage that, then I’ve got to find a way to at least make sure that there is no evidence I ever suffered from that shameful emotion. So it’s time to crawl into a hole, or become a smiling automaton.

This is what society has dictated, and, if you’ve been watching social media, any other responses are absolutely skewered in the public view. So writers with contracts drop out of the race. They hide. They take the shameful emotion and hide the fact that they ever had it. Because we aren’t supposed to be jealous—we’re supposed to be happy.

I know, it’s not very original, but it’s the truth, sometimes, the emotions are hard to deal with. And if you're wondering, this might be among the reasons a writer drops off the radar.

Congratulations! You’ve signed a contract! Welcome to Imposterville, Population 1

Pretty much the first set of feelings I had as a “really, real” writer was imposter syndrome. I felt like a fake. Worse I felt like the acquisitions editor was “just being nice.”

This is laughable.

It’s not that acquisitions editors sit around drinking scotch and smoking cigars—I mean, that’s a lovely pastime, but sometimes there’s real work to be done—but they certainly aren’t the evil overlords looking to destroy the world and crush the hopes and dreams of writers. Well, not today at least. So yeah, the idea that the person trying to acquire my book was just being nice rather than being a professional trying to convince me to sign a contract is, in retrospect, kind of naïve.

But there it is, I felt like I’d somehow bamboozled my way through the gate. Largely, this was because I didn’t know what to expect or that there were even people in the world who might like my book. I had over 200 letters telling me that my books weren’t what people were looking for, that in this crowded market, they weren’t likely to stand out, and that the premise seemed engaging but the actual book was in the unenviable position of not having been fallen in love with (It’s okay, poor book, there’s a special lobster for your too).

So I thought I was a fake. And if I’m a fake, so is the contract.

That’s right, I deluded myself into believing that the whole book getting published thing wouldn’t happen, and that all of this was just a big joke. Lucky for all parties involved, I decided that I wouldn’t be the first to break and call it a joke, and that I would follow all of my contractual obligations leading up to the release of my book. In my head, it became some sort of complicated game of chicken.

You might ask why it was that I was so convinced of this was fake. There are some precedents in my life where I’d been led along like something was real and had the rug ripped out from under me, but for the most part, those were little events—right up until it was a thing I’d been working on for a decade. When that fell through, I sort of lost faith in the Universe. (Sorry Universe, it’s me not you? No wait, that time it was you.)

But I had to look at myself and accept a few things: I had some signs of classic depression, and more than a little bit of clinical anxiety. Depression and anxiety were the ones telling me that my writing had sucked and that my work wasn’t worth anyone’s time and effort. All those rejection letters had just given my anxiety the words it needed to really hunker down and make some logical sense. My anxiety and depression had convinced me that other people, the ones saying nice things about my book—the ones offering me contracts for my book!—were lying about liking it.

Clearly, they weren’t. The book got published—much to my surprise—and now there are a bunch of copies out in the world. And it’s sort of amazing and wonderful, and more than anything, I’m glad I decided to follow along and jump through the hoops to get my book published, because, I like my book. I never expected to be in a place to admit that I love my own books, but I do, and that one in particular.

So pretty much this goes down as a learn from my fail. I wasted a ton of head space and time thinking they were going to pull the plug. And pulling the plug does happen in Publishing, NONE of the signs were there. Literally none.

I’ve talked to a ton of writers and this isn’t an isolated incident. Mine might have been stronger than many, (mine might have been actually a weak case all things considered, I just like to build mountains out of mole hills) but it’s not an isolated feeling. Imposter syndrome is real, and it will warp your mind.

The Arrow of Time Points in a Circle

I’ve noticed something in my time in the Bloggosphere: I’ll be following a writer, they’ve just signed with their agent, they’ve just released their first book into the world, and then crickets. They were all over the place, and then, suddenly, dramatically, they’re gone. The blogging records are really good right up until release day. When I was querying madly and trying to figure myself and my own writing out, I always wondered why that was. Why did they get to that spot and stop? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to ramp it up?

And to be truthful, some writers get to that point and they did ramp it up—with promotions for their book. They completely stopped writing about all the things I’d gone to their blog for: writing tips and how to, and the like.

I get it. You publish a book, and it’s time to sell the book. I get that. I really do. But the thing I was always curious about were the thoughts writers had after releasing a book.

And then I looked back at my own blog and saw EXACTLY the same thing. *Sigh*

Turns out, I’m not all that special. Turns out, I’m just like all the other writers. Turns out, I have many of the same insecurities and fears as all the others. Turns out that when things got rough, I abandoned my blog because as writers, we’re supposed to happy and supportive and exciting. Turns out, it’s easier to go silent than it is to process the feels while you’re in a place that many other writers are envious of.

With writing, there are some things you’re allowed to shout from the rooftops, and there are things you’re supposed to hide (terms of contracts, for instance). So I’m going to start a series of blog posts that I intend to go from now through the start of NaNoWriMo (you are getting ready, right?) to cover some of the things that don’t get talked about as much (largely because they’re boring).

What they will be: A look at writing; what’s changed about writing since publication; a look at some of the challenges after publishing that don’t get talked about a lot; ways to cope; thoughts on strategy; learn from my fail; and quite a bit of Just Keep Swimming (sorry, it’s the nature of the beast).

What it won’t be: Woe is me, look at how my success ruined my life (because it didn’t, but there are definitely feels, and those feels are very real elephants come to trample you and your muse).

This’ll be a weekly engagement (should I say weakly, my blogging hasn’t been that good lately), and I’ll intersperse some other posts (reviews, costume related, fangirl moments—you do know Flash season 3 airs in October, right?).

If there’s anything specific you’d like me to talk about, send me an email, comment here, hit me up on Facebook, carrier pigeon—I’m easy to contact, and I want this series to be a resource for people going through the process. I know that parts of this topic exist in the blogosphere, but they were often stories about “when I was a young writer” and not nearly that much about the way publishing is now (and publishing changes faster than a model during fashion week—but it’s all the same which is paradoxical and complicated). 

A Challenge

Here we are, running headlong into another month which means it's time for another installment of Insecure Writer's Support Group. Stop on by the Ninja Captain's blog and say hi or jump on the linky. This month's co hosts are Tamara Narayan,Tonja Drecker, Ellen @ The Cynical Sailor, Lauren @ Pensuasion, Stephen Tremp, and Julie Flanders!

More and more, my words are dogged by doubt.

Well, I mean, that’s unfair. My words were always filled with doubt, but now I can see where those doubts come from: now I know the shape of them.

It’s a funny thing that by the time you know enough about writing, you know to be careful with it, when really, when we’re writing our early drafts what we really need is to be wildly carefree. We need to throw our words around, send them where we will, experiment with the emotions of a scene.

But you’ve heard all this before, and this probably isn’t helping except to reaffirm that these feelings we have are real and other people have them too.

So here’s something new. A challenge. Are you still with me?

I’m always talking about learning how to not compare myself to others? How when I compare myself to others, I only disappoint myself? Well, there’s someone else I keep comparing myself to, and it drives me nuts. I keep comparing myself to me. I compare my rough drafts to my finished novels. I compare my scenes on paper to the ones in my head. And the most annoying thing about comparing myself to me is that I always find myself wanting.

Like I did a good job back then, but that ain’t happening again. I’m convinced the thing that makes the stuff suck between the idea and the words is that the idea and the words pass through me, like I’m some filter of suckage.

Of course the rough draft isn’t going to be anything like a polished published novel. Why do I even compare them? It’s like I forgot all those intermediate steps I took to make it all the way to the end.

Of course my ideas aren’t going to translate perfectly to the scenes in the novels. Those scenes are just guideposts anyways.

So I need to challenge myself to stop comparing me to me. No big deal. This should be totally easy.

Spoiler alert: Totally not easy!


Also, did I mention I'm running a little giveaway for my book? Just comment on this link (FB link) for a chance to win an eCopy of Acne Asthma and other Signs You Might Be Half Dragon!

The funny thing about writing...

People may or may not know this about me, but I love playing Halo. I'm a big fan (right up until the whole not getting split screen time, 343!). When I first started playing, I had also been playing a game called Fable. Now, I LOVE Fable, and I LOVE Halo.

But these two games have rapidly diverging systems.

With Fable, you get to spend your time developing how you level your character, so at the end, you are a uniquley you version of yourself. As you level, the challenges become less challenging because you become more powerful. Miss a mission early in the game and it's a cake walk later.

See, in Halo, you never level up. Never. You occassionally get cooler more badass toys, but you never level up.

The game never makes your character better. The difficulty never gets easier. In fact, the game doesn't really change (some levels are stupid easy, and some levels are ridiculously hard). But the truth is, the only thing that gets better in playing Halo is the player. The game still requires that you make good choices in the moment and that you stick to proven tactics until an elite with a force sword warms your spine through your bellybutton.

Writing is a lot more like Halo.

I used to think it was more like Fable, but it's clear to me that's not how it works. You can "level up" as a writer, but that's not going to save you from reaching into the cliche chum bucket. it's not going to help you rid your work of purple prose. Sometimes, the goal of an edit is to make it to the next save point before you die, so the next time you die, you're a little closer to the target.

One big frustrating thing about writing is that you can have success that's followed by not success. You can be rejected after you've "published well." It's pretty terrifying, but that's just the way it is, so maybe it's time to get back out there and write!



For those of you interested in winning a free ecopy of Acne, Asthma, And Other Signs You Might Be Half Dragon, pay attention: all next month there will be opportunities to win my ebook as I go around celebrating the release of my second book Of Pens and Swords!

Sequels, the lament

I love sequels. I love getting to take those characters out on another hair-brained adventure. It's the nature of us as humans to crave very strongly the "Same but Different" feel that a really good sequel is supposed to give you. I love sequels.

Right up until the moment I'm the one writing it.

With sequels, part of the problem is that we've been training to write the first book in a series, not the last book or the middle book. One thing we have going for us is that there are some really amazing sequels out there:

The Empire Strikes Back

and, umm, you know, that other sequel...

Okay, I'm gonna level with you, there are very few sequels that make me happy that I'm dealing with a sequel. There's something about sequels that make me tremble in fear. Largely, the biggest fear is that people lose their ability to tell stories. For instance, the reboot of StarTrek: the absolute pinnacle of the movie (for tension purposes) happens 15 minutes before the end, and then Spock goes and punches out Khan. *sigh* And this is a common problem in sequels. The actual beats are misinterpreted by the very people in charge of making the sequel. And I live in fear that I'm also making those mistakes.

Of course, the real problem with writing a sequel is This Song!


(That's what we do in Hollywood)




(And everybody knows that the sequel isn't quite as good...)

M is for Mourning: A to Z challenge writing advice

H for Holding back and I for imposter

Comparisons

So I’m sure everyone’s heard about how we shouldn’t compare ourselves to others. We always seem to be looking over the other the fence and thinking things aren’t going the way we’d hoped or planned. It’s a hard place to be to think we aren’t as smart/pretty/successful/strong/financially stable/whatever the new thing is today. It’s easy to compare ourselves to others, but it’s also toxic.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to the Amazon pages of my fellow writers to see how my book is comparing to them. I’ve wasted a ton of time reading other people’s success stories for how quickly they found their agent and sold their perfect book and how everything was roses and then lamenting how my path had gone up until that point. But even an old bat can learn new tricks, and I’m starting to understand.

With agents and publishing, there are so many reasons things don’t work out. A really big one is that sometimes the book isn’t ready, but even more commonly, it’s just that the book isn’t super special to an agent or editor. I can’t tell you guys how many times I’ve been reading through the entries on a pitch contest and absolutely fallen in love with an entry—to the point of “I would buy this based on this description alone”—and those entries get no requests.

Does it suck?

Oh yeah, it sucks.

Is it fair?

Ah, now that is an interesting and complicated question. Is it fair? In a heartbeat, no. But you know what else isn’t fair? I have friends who have written books and their writing is a million times better than mine. They write lyrical works of art, carefully constructing story arc and pacing. I write explosions and car chases, magic and wizards, and dragons(except for my contemporary stuff). Is it fair that I got a publishing contract for my car chases and dragons when those beautiful books that will make you cry make the rounds in the slush piles to no avail? Is it fair to be rejected because an agent had a bad day and your book reminded her of why she was having a bad day? It isn’t fair. If books sold by some metric that measured “how good a book is” who’s would we use anyway?

I know people who hate Twilight. I know people who didn’t commit suicide because they read Twilight and wanted to know how the next book went. Is it fair?

Life isn’t fair. But, I offer this other bit of terrifying observation on the fairness of life: If life really were fair, then you would have deserved all of the bad things that have ever happened to you.

So smile! Life isn’t fair. Maybe you don’t deserve your success, maybe you do. Who are any of us to judge? Life really isn’t fair, so try to enjoy the path your feet are on.

When you check and your name isn't on the list

Right, so there you are. You entered a contest, and now, the world has moved on and you didn’t get to the coveted agent round.

I feel for you.

I feel for you because I’ve been in your shoes. And what makes it harder is that sometimes those people go on to getting agents, and you feel like that could have been you.

It’s hard to be objective at this moment in life because you just received a blow. When you get cut from something, it feels like you were attacked. It feels like someone took your dream out of your heart and used it to park a tractor on. When I was rejected, I’d always feel like the world had just spit me out and keep on going.

I felt worthless.

I felt like a crappy writer regardless of what anyone else said.

I hated feeling so disregarded, because I felt like I was ready. I was ready for the big leagues. This is what I’d tell myself. I’d watch those contests trying to feel supportive of my friends and CPs, but in truth, I often had a sick green monster on my shoulder.

I know there is nothing I can tell you that will make it better, but I’m a writer and by default, I believe the impossible is merely difficult.

Publishing, the business side of writing, makes no logical sense. It just doesn’t. So when you get a rejection and you can’t figure out why a manuscript you feel is inferior gets the big agent and a contract in three days, it’s not what you think. Sometimes people win the lottery, but you don’t see them doubting their self worth when they don’t win the jackpot.

But with writing we do. It’s bizarre, but it’s part of writing. And maybe, just maybe, there is something that could be made more perfect about your manuscript. Or maybe your writing is Ah-May-Zing, but your story is a portal with a pretty typical other world. No matter how much I love those, no one is buying them in publishing, and that trickles down the castle walls.

Chin up. Write more. One thing about publishing: when you do get your break, the first thing they are going to ask you is “What else do you have?” Be sure you have something else, so get back to writing, even if your heart is feeling a bit broken.

Insecure, but keeping our heads up

It's another installment of Insecure Writer's Support Group! Jump on over and say Hi to the Ninja Captain, Alex, and be sure to swing by the co-hosts, Allison Gammons, Tamara Narayan, Eva E. Solar, Rachel Pattison, and Ann V. Friend, and say Hi! 


This month, I think it might be good to acknowledge that the writing journey is hard. I know, duh, Rena, we get that it's hard. There's a whole support group for it!

But it's true it can be hard.

And it can be amazing. This might be one of the hardest professions to try to be part of--the internship is a bit rough--but it's amazing. We writers create amazing things. We take people and we transport them to other worlds, other lives--we create within the people who read our works a sense of connectedness with the world around them.

I mean, wow. Step back for a minute and take that in. If you're writing, if you've written, you've already accomplished so much.

Yeah, the business is hard. Didn't get a request. Didn't hear back. Beta readers weren't kind to you. Reviews were terrible (like for real, yo, what is the deal with some reviewers?). But they aren't writing. Those things are a side effect of writing. They are the Con trail after your plane of awesome flies by. The bad parts of writing are the blisters and bruises you get when you play soccer (or football if you're from any country besides the US). 

But even with the bad bits, the bits that make us wring our hands and worry and fret, Writing is amazing.  We've all seen this meme, but it's true for everything, not just ballet. Writing is hard, but it is amazing.

Get back out there and write people.  

Insecure just talking about myself

It's that time again, so close the circle and join with the ninja captain, Alex and his cohosts, Sandra Hoover, Mark Koopmans, Doreen McGettigan, Megan Morgan, and Melodie Campbell as we take another journey through the lands of insecurity and writing:

 

One thing about self promotion: you talk about yourself a lot. Which sometimes is good, and sometimes, well, it gets uncomfortable. It’s not that I don’t want people to go out and buy the book. It’s not that I don’t think the book is worth talking about or not worth getting attention. But if it’s not the book, then what is it?

Which sort of led me to a startling realization:

It’s me. I’m the one I don’t think is really worthy of being talked about. The whole insecurity around my self-promotion is that I feel like I shouldn’t be hogging all that cyber space and that I might really need to keep my mouth shut and listen to other people. What gives me the right to take up all that time and space with something “Oh look at me, I wrote a book and published it! Aren’t I a super special snowflake?”

Of course, it is hard to write. Publishing is a major milestone in any writer’s life, so why am I sort of hesitant to take up that lime light and pour it over myself? I’ve never had a hard time taking up all the space in any room I was in, but I’ve never asked people to pay for something either. I’ve never really worked retail or marketing. I’ve always been the person with the zingers or the funny story. I’ve never been the person who stands up front and says “This is awesome and you should all buy it. I can tell you that it’s awesome because I wrote, so I am completely unbiased.” Despite living my whole social media career as a wallflower I’ve been tweeting, facebooking, and generally sending spam into the world in the hopes that someone will see it and connect with my book.

This makes my tummy turn, this marketing, and it makes me doubt myself and my ability. So yup, that’s what I’m insecure about. How do you handle the unhappy feels that come with not just being in the spot light but gobbling up all of it (and hoping people buy your book)?