Becoming "A Writer"

A lot of people have asked me how it was that I became "A Writer" seemingly overnight. To which I reply, "Magic."

The real answer:
Just because I never shared it with you, doesn't mean I wasn't doing it. ;)

The truth is, most writers, even the newbies, have been closet writers or even clueless writers for years. I have always written. When I was little, I'd write silly stories. In high school, I kept a journal. In college, I wrote a ton of papers, took writing classes, and cranked out lots of drama-filled emails. In corporate America, I was paid to write web copy, sales letters, collateral, white papers, executive communications, blah, blah, blah... My point is, I may not have been writing romantic, fantastical, super-de-duper stuff, but the fact remains, I was still writing.

So, the more accurate question to ask is: When did you decide to write fiction full time?

Oh, ho, ho - now that's the proper inquiry!

After being laid off from "a large computer company" (CYA, folks) due to an acquisition, I took stock of my situation and figured, if there was ever a time to focus on what I've always wanted to do, it was then. So, with severance in hand, I clicked open MS Word and started typing. Two months later, I had finished the first draft, joined an amazing critique group, and begun the editing process.

Fast forward to today: 5 projects in the hopper, 3 agents looking at Autumn Leaves, and 1 husband who encourages me to pursue this as a career. (He's a keeper.)

To sum everything up, my choice to become "A Writer" wasn't as spontaneous as some would think. It's been part of me; in the blood flowing through the hands flying over the keyboard. I have always been a writer and even if I don't become a literary superstar, I will always be one.

Why I Want a Husky for my Bday

Apollo 79 - Mission to Patience

Patience is a virtue, or so they say. At present, three agents are reading my manuscript. Will I be virtuous?

Do I have a choice?

Beyond the bouncing off walls following calls from New York, I'm now trapped in a state of stasis. Surrounding me is a vacuum of dark despondency highlighted with small points of light, like stars, of optimistic prediction. Navigating in this space-like environment can be treacherous. Am I to be swallowed by the negative blackness of self-doubt or burned alive by the manic flames of delusion?

There has to be a happy medium, perhaps on a friendly planet, not too close to a sun and not too deep into the void. Patience lies here; within the rich soil of restraint, flowing in the waters of acceptance, and blowing in the winds of tolerance.

To me, patience is a mission; a goal to be achieved, a place to be uncovered. We are all faced with situations requiring it, but not all of us are able to find it. I'm sure there are some that disagree - comment freely.

Moving Fun

Quick Update (in case you've missed me):

I'm currently engulfed in the process of moving. It's amazing how that small two-syllable word, "moving," can conjure all kinds of fun things like backaches, migraines, and dust-bunnies (my nemesis).

Hmm... it's kind of like saying the word, "dentist." Immediately after hearing it, rampant images of needles, suction tubes, and annoying water-squirter-thingies being shoved into my mouth traipse across my consciousness, sending shivers down my spine.

OK. Enough of that. The truck's pulling up to the house now as I speak, um, type. I must conclude my mind meanderings for the time being and turn the focus back to my recent house guests. Odious boxes, the time has come for you to disappear.

Sympathetically Insane

Today on Nathan Bransford's blog, he mentioned Sympathetic vs. Unsympathetic Characters.

Very apropos. I'm toying with an idea for a new book centered on an obsessed, sometimes violent, but otherwise amiable woman who makes deleterious decisions costing her all she holds dear, including her sanity. This is where the question of how to make your protagonists/antagonists resonate with others comes into play.

Is craziness so far off for any of us?

Is obsession the same as passion?

For myself, writing goes far beyond the simple, "I like to do it." IS that the same as saying I'm obsessed?

Let's look at the symptoms:

1 - I do it for hours every day. Even weekends and holidays.

2 - I talk about it as much as possible keeping in mind that not everyone can relate... or cares for that matter.

3 - My characters are real to me. “Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” EL Doctorow

4 - It's hard not to do it. When away from my computer, I keep a note pad with me so I can jot down mannerisms or funny observations.

Okay, it would appear that I am, in fact, obsessed. Therefore, I can relate to my character. But will others?

Comments and suggestions are certainly welcome. Also, does anyone have any good reading recommendations for stories told from the villain's perspective?

Success at a Meyer Level

Catalyst:
http://www.style.com/vogue/feature/2009_March_Stephenie_Meyer/

If you read Stephenie Meyer's bio, you'll find that in 6 months her first book was dreamt, written, represented, and sold. Mind-blowing.

How does one achieve this level of success in the literary world?
Let's call it the Meyer level.

1 - Her books are fantastic. They are sweeping and fluid in spite of other authors' criticism of her technique.

2 - She has a bit of controversy surrounding her. Come on, she's a nice Mormon girl writing about eternally-damned-blood-sucking vampires. Okay, okay... I'll give in... Edward has a soul. (yes, that is me in the pic ;))

3 - She's approachable. Well, maybe not in the literal sense, but her story's voice is very easy to get along with.

4 - She's super lucky. She even says so on her website.

As much as I would love even an ounce of her acclaim, here's hoping that this NorCal girl will create a new level of success: the Heskett level.

Thanks for reading!

Look at me - I'm blogging.

So, here's the conundrum: do I blog regularly or use the time to keep tweaking my manuscript?

Granted, the first draft only took two months to complete, but I've spent almost the same amount of time revising it. Any thoughts?

Another question that has been plaguing me for some time now is: when do you walk away? My mother keeps referring to my novel as a painting. Too many strokes on the canvas and it's ruined. (She's an Art History graduate - so the metaphor works for her.)

I guess the mark of a great artist is knowing the exact time to sit back and say, "Finito!" ... or something like that. How does that happen? Do the words start to glow and rise up off of the page? Does the choir of angels begin to sing? Does your computer crash and the only draft left is buried in a random file on your external hard drive?

Hmm... (imagine me pondering like Rodin's "The Thinker")