Archive for the ‘Writing Process’ Category

There are people out there who get paid to follow the odds. They are called risk assessment managers. They base their entire careers on following statistics and making (supposedly) impartial judgements based on those statistics. They determine if someone gets a loan, job, contract, etc. These people are dream killers. These people are not artists.

Artists tend to thumb their noses at the status quot in my opinion because they’ve never been a part of it, willfully or otherwise. They don’t fit. This exclusion automatically changes their very perception of reality. So having “realistic expectations” that the rest of normal society seems to understand is a foreign concept to them. It needs to be.

To function as an artist, to be able to think outside of the box (or look at the box and see a chicken, or decide that there is an entire universe in the box, or the box is just an illusion to distract mankind from the overlords of dystopia), reality needs to keep its distance from abstract thought processes and creative problem solving.

If you’re too busy fixating on reality, you can’t concentrate on being creative. For any artist, that can be debilitating. Why create something if no one but you is ever going to appreciate it? There, you’ve already given up.

Again, in my opinion we already have enough risk assessment managers. We have more than enough people who are perfectly happy to go with the flow. We have too many people who give up before even trying because the odds are against them. We will always need more dreamers, more artists, more envelope pushers, more progressive thinkers.

Reality isn’t going anywhere. Sooner or later you need to face it. Make it a positive reflection of your efforts, not some insurmountable wall that impedes them. Don’t give up. You’re better than that.

Just about any writer will tell you that they spend a lot of time alone. It’s kind of job requirement. The alternate universe in a writer’s head feeds on that solitary existence. It gains more credence with less outside stimuli…well, most of the time. There is a bit of a loneliness factor. It has nothing to do with interacting with normal people. I do that all the time. It has to do with interacting with other writers.

I was invited to a local writer’s guild. The lady who invited me was very nice, as were all the other women there. It was a romance writer’s guild, officially a local chapter of the RWA. That was fine with me. My work is a mystery/romance series, maybe with a higher body count than a typical romance, but with an ongoing love story nevertheless.

However, I only went that one time. I did not join. As with most “official” clubs, it was resided over by a set of officers, specifically one domineering president. They also had homework.  I’m sure writing exercises are great. I just know I’ll never do them if I’m not getting paid for it. Overall, the whole experience felt stifling rather than comforting.

There’s a closer, general writing club with a different organization, but it’s during the day when I’m working at one of my W2 jobs. So the search continues.

I know of two other writers in my area. Debbie helped with editing on Book 1, and she’s an award winning published poet. The other is Nick. He’s a screenwriter who does a lot of work with production companies in the Cities on the side.  I love talking to both of them, but I’m still a bit shy about looking them up and injecting myself into their social lives. It feels desperate.

Such is the conundrum. Emotionally awkward people trying to make connections with other people who are also probably emotionally awkward, but no-one wants to be a bother, wear out their welcome, stick their necks out.

Maybe this is why Hemingway was hammered all the time. I don’t know about you, but I’m way more social when I’m shitfaced. Probably not as intelligent-sounding, but definitely more social. Perhaps a writer’s round table at the local watering hole on a weeknight might be in order. That requires contact and invitations, doesn’t it? Maybe I should have a beer first and think about it…maybe two.

Oh, validation, you sweet siren, always sucking me in and making me feel special again…

After my complete failure at the last Author Event, I had extremely lowered expectations about this one. To make it worse, a friend of the Hubby’s popped into town to socialize, so I had to arrive to the shindig all by myself.

I was expecting no one when I called the librarian. She said two people for sure were very excited. By the time I started reading, there were 5 including the librarian (The librarians don’t always come to these things, which is fine. They have lives, but I’m elated when they do stick around). Hubby came late to round it out to an even half dozen. Hey, I’ll take it.

It’s not the number so much that’s important to me. It’s that wonderful question: “So when are we gonna get to read the next book?”

It was barely above zero last night, but these people came to my Author Event specifically to ask that question.  Their only agenda is to find something to read. My only agenda is to give them something to read and maybe make a few bucks doing it.

It’s a simple relationship on the surface. The problem is my delivery system is stunted. I know there are multitudes of other veracious readers out there looking for books exactly like mine. I just need to make sure they can find me. I need to become known to them.

Marketing is my ugly dealer. I only get my fix through her.  It’s a tawdry system.

On the bright side, Milltown Public Library pulled out all the stops on the spread again. Their small village library is on the cusp of a very ambitious (and very necessary) expansion project. If you’ve got some loose change laying around, or maybe a rich old uncle looking to make amends for his wicked life, think about dropping off a few bucks for the cause.