In case you’ve ever wondered, this whole writing novels thing isn’t for sissies. It’s hours of time in solitary, scratching away on a notepad with a pencil or pen, banging away on the keyboard of a computer, agonizing over some damn scene that will not cooperate, pacing around the house trying to get your blood flowing again, only to sit down and go back to the same agony in hopes that you have a breakthrough, and the thing begins to move better (which it does - eventually).
Then there are the dreams (as in the ones you have while sleeping) - the ones that solve some writing problem, and the ones that replay your agony in your sleep. I like the first kind - surprise, surprise.
I am, as if you couldn’t tell, in the depths of writing agony right now. It won’t last and I know that. I’m an old hand at this. I just wish to hell it would shorten its run. I’m ready for the light at the end of this particular tunnel.
I was published once before and it worked out okay (from a sales perspective), but then some bad things happened in my personal life (involving the death of my mother) and some other bad things happened with my then agent (which actually only came about because of the break I took because of my mother’s illness and death).
So, here I am, in the desert once again, agent-less.
Make no mistake, the agent-less status is my doing - I let my old agent go.
No, you don’t do that because you had a bad day. You don’t even do that because you think you got a slightly bad deal on the last book. Not even.
You only do that, ever, as the absolute, last resort of all last resorts. You only do that after you have thought everything through rationally, reasonably, patiently, weighing all your options - while you’re sober. You only do that when you’ve tried everything and nothing else works. You only do that when not having an agent will be no worse than having your current one. That’s the *only* time you ever do that. So, don’t do that unless *all* of the above has occurred to you.
Why?
Because agents are too hard to get.
No, it is not easier to get an agent once you’ve been published. It just isn’t.
Is.
Not.
So, for all the aspiring writers out there, don’t delude yourselves into thinking that the previously published have some easier deal than you. Unless your name is something like John Grisham, Nora Roberts or Janet Evanovich (or others in the same galaxy of stars). If you live in that galaxy, then and only then can you call your own shots; but, it isn’t easier for the rest of us.
So, I must finish this manuscript first and foremost, and it must be wonderful (and it will be, by God). Then I will go out and query and do my best to find that agent who loves my work.
Before you Google the name on this blog - no, I was not published under this name before, and I’m not telling you what that name was. I’m not telling because I left that behind me. I’m writing something different now and it doesn’t need to be associated with the life I had before tragic circumstances re-routed my universe.
Being a person who believes in her dreams, I wasn’t about to give up on mine just because the world temporarily got the better of me. It was temporary after all. As Vincent Gardenia says in “Moonstruck” (playing the role of Cosmo Castorini) - “Everything is temporary!” [Writer credit: John Patrick Shanley].
The writing dream lives, and I work through all the solitary, crap days of sitting on my bum and pounding this keyboard and honing those passages until I just can’t stand it anymore.
And sometimes on nights like these, I take a break, put on a little Joni Mitchell “Night Ride Home” and pour myself a glass of Glenmorangie Quinta Ruban (neat), and wait for the edge to wear off.
Maybe I’ll write some more tonight, or maybe I’ll just *be* for a while, let my mind drift and unwind.
Then tomorrow I can start fresh. Maybe find that breakthrough. See the light at the end of this particular tunnel.
Take me home, Joni.
Bottoms up!
Polla filia,
J.F.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
I HAVE ONLY MY DREAMS
"But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
- W.B. Yeats "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"
Of late, I have noticed (again) how many people have no idea what most writers go through along the path to their dreams.
First of all, most of us never make a living with this work. Most of us have day jobs to pay the mortgage and put food on the table. The lucky ones reach a day where they can quit the day job and live off of their words. They are in an elite minority. More elite still are those who make it big. Yet, so many people think only of the ones who make it big.
In spite of not making our primary living off of our work, those of us who are published at least once (in my case) and who do make some money from it - we are professional writers. Some of us are card-carrying voting members of the Author's Guild (like me).
Those of us who do it sacrifice a lot for it. We work insanely hard to do what we love.
It is not a hobby. Please do not insult a working writer by treating them as if their work is some hobby.
It is about the love not the money. It is about living our dream.
Make no mistake, my goal is to make enough money to do this full-time - and to be paid very well for it. I will work my touchie off to get there, because to be able to write full-time would be the ultimate. Again, the main thrust of the dream is about the creative work itself. The money is a means to that end. To that end, I will never give up. I will never quit. For now, though, it does not support me financially.
My Dream began as far back as I can remember - at least when I was the age of five - maybe before that. I always deeply desired to write books. When it burns in you at that young age - before thoughts of guile, or before ego has you in its grip, it's a calling as true as any.
When I was 15 I worked in the Austin Public Library shelving books at night after school and on weekends - for FREE. The City could not pay someone under the age of 16 for that work. So I volunteered. I did it because as soon as I turned 16, I wanted to be first in line for a paying job as a page. The job was so important to me that I did it for free for a year. It was a good investment - I got the paying job when I turned 16. I worked in that job all through high school at nights and on weekends for part-time minimum wage.
In case you're wondering, it's mind numbing to shelve books. What isn't mind numbing is keeping up with all the authors, being exposed to all those books, knowing what they are all about, seeing which ones are being read most often, and all the other things I learned working in the library. Better still, I was making money I desperately needed and I was doing it in a world of BOOKS!! It was a writer's heaven!
It was also difficult with all my school work I had to do and keep up with - especially when my friends were out doing "fun" things because they did their school work and then didn't have a job. Still, I made good grades and worked in the Austin Public Library because it was part of the road to My Dream.
I have for the last several years sacrificed relaxing "vacations" for research trips, outings with friends and family for blocks of writing time at home, and innumerable other "fun" things in order to find the blocks of time I need to write while holding down a full-time job. There is my day job, my writing, my workouts and sleep. There is time for little else. I covet the "extra" hours I get to write - all those nights, weekends and all the vacation time which I parlay into time to "work" on writing. Admittedly, I cheat sleep for more writing time far too much.
It is what you do to reach your goals - to attain The Dream. It is a sacrifice, and there are so many days when I want a break from the demands of it all, and from the fatigue; but, I never want to jettison the writing. My frustration always manifests itself in wanting to be rid of the day job! HA! It is both the thing which allows me to write (by keeping me in food with a roof over my head), and the biggest obstacle to the fullness of My Dream.
Paradox.
In spite of it all, my writing time is always joy to me, no matter how compressed it must be, no matter how dog tired I am. To me it is to live within My Dream even if I can only live there for a few hours.
Polla Filia,
J.F.
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
- W.B. Yeats "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"
Of late, I have noticed (again) how many people have no idea what most writers go through along the path to their dreams.
First of all, most of us never make a living with this work. Most of us have day jobs to pay the mortgage and put food on the table. The lucky ones reach a day where they can quit the day job and live off of their words. They are in an elite minority. More elite still are those who make it big. Yet, so many people think only of the ones who make it big.
In spite of not making our primary living off of our work, those of us who are published at least once (in my case) and who do make some money from it - we are professional writers. Some of us are card-carrying voting members of the Author's Guild (like me).
Those of us who do it sacrifice a lot for it. We work insanely hard to do what we love.
It is not a hobby. Please do not insult a working writer by treating them as if their work is some hobby.
It is about the love not the money. It is about living our dream.
Make no mistake, my goal is to make enough money to do this full-time - and to be paid very well for it. I will work my touchie off to get there, because to be able to write full-time would be the ultimate. Again, the main thrust of the dream is about the creative work itself. The money is a means to that end. To that end, I will never give up. I will never quit. For now, though, it does not support me financially.
My Dream began as far back as I can remember - at least when I was the age of five - maybe before that. I always deeply desired to write books. When it burns in you at that young age - before thoughts of guile, or before ego has you in its grip, it's a calling as true as any.
When I was 15 I worked in the Austin Public Library shelving books at night after school and on weekends - for FREE. The City could not pay someone under the age of 16 for that work. So I volunteered. I did it because as soon as I turned 16, I wanted to be first in line for a paying job as a page. The job was so important to me that I did it for free for a year. It was a good investment - I got the paying job when I turned 16. I worked in that job all through high school at nights and on weekends for part-time minimum wage.
In case you're wondering, it's mind numbing to shelve books. What isn't mind numbing is keeping up with all the authors, being exposed to all those books, knowing what they are all about, seeing which ones are being read most often, and all the other things I learned working in the library. Better still, I was making money I desperately needed and I was doing it in a world of BOOKS!! It was a writer's heaven!
It was also difficult with all my school work I had to do and keep up with - especially when my friends were out doing "fun" things because they did their school work and then didn't have a job. Still, I made good grades and worked in the Austin Public Library because it was part of the road to My Dream.
I have for the last several years sacrificed relaxing "vacations" for research trips, outings with friends and family for blocks of writing time at home, and innumerable other "fun" things in order to find the blocks of time I need to write while holding down a full-time job. There is my day job, my writing, my workouts and sleep. There is time for little else. I covet the "extra" hours I get to write - all those nights, weekends and all the vacation time which I parlay into time to "work" on writing. Admittedly, I cheat sleep for more writing time far too much.
It is what you do to reach your goals - to attain The Dream. It is a sacrifice, and there are so many days when I want a break from the demands of it all, and from the fatigue; but, I never want to jettison the writing. My frustration always manifests itself in wanting to be rid of the day job! HA! It is both the thing which allows me to write (by keeping me in food with a roof over my head), and the biggest obstacle to the fullness of My Dream.
Paradox.
In spite of it all, my writing time is always joy to me, no matter how compressed it must be, no matter how dog tired I am. To me it is to live within My Dream even if I can only live there for a few hours.
Polla Filia,
J.F.
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