Archive for the ‘Writing Process’ Category

I wasn’t a big reader as a little kid. I simultaneously fell in love with both mysteries (Thank you Henry Shlesher and Agatha Christie) and romances (Thank you Kathleen Woodwiss and Sandra Brown) while in high school.

To be honest, the act of writing has never been difficult for me. I’ve started lots of fictional stories in my life. It’s the act of finishing that has always been the problem. As mentioned in other posts, I am a HUGE procrastinator. I can stall like nobody’s business. I can rationalize myself out of just about anything that resembles work, and wrapping up the loose ends of a story is work.

Then there’s the fear of success/failure. Exposing myself to others with this whole writing business is extremely uncomfortable for me. If no one knows you’re a writer, it’s so much safer. I had lots of other things in my life that seemed more acceptable than being a writer of all things. It didn’t become a necessary compulsion until a few years ago. I blame it on the voices in my head refusing to stay hidden any longer… and a hard winter.

My husband and I had just bought an old drafty building out of which to run our business. It was a bitch to heat. Combine that with my wonderful husband catching a succession of colds that lasted from November to March, and you’ve got the makings for a difficult home life. Also that winter, my sister gave birth to my beautiful niece. On the one hand, I was thrilled. On the other hand, I was internally devastated. My sister and I had both been trying to get pregnant at the same time. It was the beginning of my realization that I would probably never conceive a child by conventional means. My reality was starting to suck.

Enter the voices. They started out as many fantasies do, from a regular outlet in my life. At that time it was a TV show. So I started building an alternate universe for the show in my head. It wasn’t the first time I had done that. I remember in elementary school creating a new cousin for the Dukes of Hazzard. I hope those of you who are as nuts as I am can relate. If not, too bad.

Anyway, so I began this alternate universe for this show in my head and would let my mind go there whenever I needed a break from reality. The more things would suck, the more I went there. When I had done this before in my life, I would create one episode of the TV show, and that would be it, but not this time. One episode turned into four. I could rewind and fix everything in my head, all the characters’ dialogue, scenery, props, plot twists, everything. It became distracting. I would mentally vacate from conversations with real people. I would go off alone and fixate on this illusion for sometimes twenty minutes, maybe an hour at a time if I could get away with it. I began to think I was crazy. Go to Part 2

It got there late. Not good form. Going to have to work on that. I had ten people present, which surpassed Luck’s numbers by two, so that was good. I couldn’t have asked for a more engaging audience. They were wonderful. Considering how many books they bought, I should kiss butt just a little bit. The questions they presented were insightful, and they were very attentive during my readings. Thanks for coming, guys! Enjoy reading the books!

Tonight is the first reading of the second book, and the second reading I’ve done in public ever. Am I nervous? Well, yah. I’m also really excited. They did a beautiful write up for me in both local papers, and I told everybody and their cousin about it, so I hope more than eight people show up, which is what I had at the last reading.

I sincerely wish I could be one of those people who can get up in front of strangers without any trepidation, and just charm them all into liking me and buy all my books. Alas, such is not the case. The very reason I even write to begin with is to hide in another world. I don’t feel comfortable having people know who I am.

When I read, I don’t often look up. I know this is bad. I need to engage the audience, which requires eye contact. Like most mid-westerners, I’ve been raised to believe that direct eye contact is rude. That’s why, when you see two old farmers hanging out after church and having a conversation, they are looking at the sidewalk. Only salesman and politicians make direct eye contact. I guess I have to admit I’m a salesman of sorts.

I’ve been told that I read too fast. That’s because I’m probably trying to get it over with.

But I understand the reasons for the reading. It’s a free sample of what you get with the books. My voice may sound like Fran” Drescher with a head cold, but I must be doing something right. When I read, I can hear (because I don’t look up enough) people grunting in affirmation, or laughing appropriately, or gasping when something exciting happens in the story. So my delivery can’t be too painful to experience. Must be the material.