Never give up, never surrender…. until you’ve tweaked and rewritten and second guessed it to death. Or the deadline comes. Whatever. See you guys if I survive.
My morning in haiku.
Fresh hot coffee.
on white tee-shirt.
this late in manuscript
is not so brilliant.
Three dogs scratch at door.
To ignore means poop on floor.
Work paused, either way.
I look up one thing
Internet is so helpful
Look! There are LOLcats!
Recently, for reasons that I will let you wonder about, I have begun a vain attempt to wedge a small gap between Rosemary Clement-Moore the (amazing! talented!) author of (award-winning!) books and what let’s call, for purposes of this post, “Private Life Rose.”
Here’s the first problem with that process. There IS no part of me that is not a writer. I wrote stories before I ever dreamed anyone but my friends would read them, without an inkling how you became an author AS A JOB. Heck, even my Barbie dolls were always going on space-faring, dragon-slaying, Evil Empire Defeating adventures. (The Barbie Mobile Home, with just a little paint and some decals, made a great Millennium Falcon.)
Those of you who do any kind of art–heck, those of you who dance, or play sports, or weave baskets underwater know what I mean. What you love to do is intrinsic to who you are. Private Life Rose is still a storyteller and nothing short of a brain transplant would change that.
However, there’s a difference between the writer/artist and RCM the Published Author who doesn’t really want people to know that all her efforts to house train her latest dog have met with utter failure. (Oops. Now you know.)
So there’s that. I had an online social life long before I had to think about things like a professional image or an author “brand.” Pretty much, what you see is what you get with me. The only difference is that online, I have the benefit of a delete key which saves me from posting things that I have a tendency to blurt out when I’m in public. So it’s not that I’m a *different* person online. But I am slightly more edited.
That doesn’t mean I’m fake, just that I’m aware if I say something like “I have to pee like a racehorse” in person, it’s not going to be preserved forever on the Internet. Though that’s not really true anymore, because anyone can Tweet: Ha! @rclementmoore just said she has to pee like a racehorse!
Which is the other thing. In the WiFi world we live in, we–all of us, not just people with a professional public image–are not entirely in control of our online content. If I’m at an event, anyone can take my picture. And it’s a sure bet, the one where I’m making a face like this…
…will be the one that ends up tagged on Facebook. (There was this time I was at a party at a convention and I was telling a story. Someone snapped a pic. Not a big deal, except that (a) I was standing in front of All The Liquor Bottles In Texas and (b) I was making a weird face so that I look like I had drunk All the Liquor in Texas.
Which I hadn’t.
Not that night, anyway.
I don’t care that you guys know I drink. But I would like you to think I look adorable when I do.
Though I actually like this one, where Sarah Rees Brennan is looking at me like I’m crazy and she can’t move far enough away without causing an inter-author incident.
Which if you’ve ever talked to Sarah Rees Brennan, or seen one of her dramatic book reenactments, is kind of ironic, her looking at anyone this way. (I adore Sarah, and UNSPOKEN is one of my favorite books of 2012.)
So… Where was I? Oh yeah. Online vs. Offline.
It’s not so much that I care to keep my Offline Life a secret from readers. What you see is what you get with me. You know my mom lives with me (or me with her, depending on who you ask). That my dog is a revenge pee-er. That I’ve rented my upstairs apartment to Sister Maria Von Trapp. (Minus the singing.)
That I was a nerd long before it was cool, back when I had to keep it a secret or get beat up after school.
It’s not even that I worry about someone from college showing up on my blog and posting in the comments: Hey! Rosie*! Remember that time you drank All The Liquor In Texas and we had to carry you home on your shield?
It’s far more likely that someone will show up and say: Hey! Remember when you wrote all that Mary Sue Star Wars fan fiction in junior high? Or I’ll get a Tweet from my mother that says: Hey, little missy! Remember to pick up toilet paper while you’re at #Target!
That last one will never happen. My mother doesn’t know how to use hashtags.
*If you ever call me Rosie, in person or online, I will never speak to you again.
In case you missed it, I announced Wednesday that I’d sold two new books to Delacorte. (Yay!)
The announcement came complete with pie charts. I really love charts. They can express all kinds of ideas. Brilliant things. The world is a better place with graphs, charts and grids, and I’ll tell you why: It keeps my right brain self and left brain self from killing each other.
Every test I’ve ever taken (Which is a lot, because you know who gets to be early test subjects for graduate students in communication and behavioral science? Other grad students in communication and behavioral science.) puts me in a dead split between right/left brain dominance.
According to popular theory (two words that pretty much negate all credibility), I can use both types of intelligence–logical and intuitive–equally well. But what it mostly seems to mean is that someday they will find my comatose body in a department store dressing room because my brain has imploded trying to decide whether to purchase a dress that I love vs. the one that is practical.
So I make pro/con lists for just about everything. (And I do mean everything.) I keep notebooks with my ideas. I write down everything so I can sort it and find it when I need it.
This is where the white board comes in. When I rough in my book plot, my beloved white board chart gives me a visual, spacial framework that I can then fill in with my right-brained creative genius.
Except here I am. Staring at this:
Most intimidating thing ever.
Here’s what I don’t get. I’ve written seven books. My left brain KNOWS I can write a book. I have empirical evidence of the fact that I can write a book. And they’re not even BAD books. They’ve gotten starred reviews and awards and stuff.
So how come every time I sit down to “Chapter One” and a blank page, I’m convinced I have no CLUE what I’m doing. I’ve just been faking it all this time.
Call it the inner editor, call it the Id vs the Superego, call it cognitive dissonance, call it whatever…. Staring at a blank anything can make a task seem so overwhelming that just about anyone can get this kind of standing-on-the-high-dive paralysis that threatens to defeat you before you even get started.
The only thing to do–and trust me, I know–is to start filling in the blanks. Make a chart. Make a list. Make a mind map. Make a Pinterest Board full of inspiring images. Start filling in the empty spaces with nonsense, and sooner or later, it’s not so empty and intimidating any more.
These are all the things that have happened since I sat down to write this post at 8:23 a.m.
08:35 The Fed-Ex van arrives. Dogs go crazy.
08:40 The package contains my edits on Texas Gothic. I go crazy.
09:00 Cease hyperventilating, resolve to finish iLesson and Genreality post for tomorrow before further freak out.
10:13 Business phone call.
10:45 Leaf-blower-of-doom arrives. Dogs go crazy. I go crazy.
11:10 Two dogs need to go out.
11:15 Family phone call.
11:20 Two more dogs need to go out.
11:21 One dog doesn’t finish business outside, so finishes inside. Wipe up floor.
11:30 I break a (full) glass. Sweep floor, mop, sweep again, vacuum, mop one final time for slivers.
12:00 Cannot remember Hemingway quote for iLesson. Google “Hemingway on writing.” Spend an hour reading amusing but irrelevant quotations and anecdotes.
12:05 Explained to Mom that “⌘C” is useless without “⌘V”. (Sorry Mom. But that was kind of funny.)
12:30 Lunchtime. Mom makes her lunch. Dogs go crazy.
1:05 pm Consider running away to Key West to live with bottle of scotch and house full of polydactyl cats.
1:14. Have abandoned original post, and thanks to reader suggestion, gone in a different direction.
People say to me (a lot) “I wish I could just stay at home and write without the distractions of a full time job.” To which I say, there is no such thing as a world without distractions. And these are just the things I can’t control. I didn’t mention the temptation distractions, like Supernatural on TNT every morning or the sale at the mall or “just one game” of Rock Band.
I say with embarrassment that I spent my time much more productively when I had a “day job” and could only write at night. I wrote more in those stolen two or three hours than I sometimes do now all day. I guarded my writing time preciously, knowing I only had that much, and no more.
Even now, I sometimes don’t even bother trying to produce new prose during they day, but stay up late to write when dogs, moms, and lawn services have gone to bed. I know writers who get up at 4 am to write before their kids wake up for school.
Make the most of your time, however much time you have. Don’t be afraid to guard that time, and stress the importance of it to your family… and to yourself!
One of the problems coming up with blog topics, is that writers, contrary to public image in the media (I’m looking at you, Richard Castle.) Our day-to-day lives aren’t really that exciting. I mean, they are, in the sense that we have a really cool job making stuff up, controlling our little fictional universes, like demigods. But with the exception of certain crime fighting crime novelists, it just doesn’t make good television, watching someone sit on their butt staring at a computer 8 to 10 (to 12 to 18) hours a day.
(So today I could change it up and tell you about the last three days I spent lying on the bathroom floor, in between calls to Ralph on the porcelain phone. It would be TMI, but at least it would be dramatic.)
But if you’re reading this blog, chances are you’re a reader, so you know that living in your head really IS exciting, in a way that TV can never fully catch. Not until they invent five sense surround sound-smell-taste-touch-ovision. And as much as I love movies, and you know I love movies, there’s nothing like vicariously living in adventure in the pages of the book. It’s probably as close to Avatar as I’ll ever get. (As hard as it is to reconcile that I’ll never get to ride a pterodactyl.)
For me the writing experience is very much like creating that surround-o-vision movie in my head. The challenges come from keeping it exciting for you and putting all those senses, the full 5D role-playing experience, into words that will transmit it into your head like an avatar interface. Put in those terms, that’s a pretty damn exciting job.
Even if I’m not solving crimes on the side.
I spent the weekend at the DFW Writer’s Conference, and it was a good one. I can say that because, except for teaching classes and lending my shining, celebrity presence, I didn’t have anything to do with organizing the thing. The conference committee worked extremely hard to pull off an excellent conference. Multiple tracks of programing from a wide range of authors and other professionals, six agents taking one-on-one pitches, two lunches with entertaining speakers, a wealth of information, smoothly run, despite inevitable hiccups… Kudos to those guys.
The next conference, by the way, is set for April 9-11, 2010. Mark your calendars.
I spoke on Writing for Teens (Even if you Aren’t One). I joked on Twitter that this meant I had to pretend I know what I’m doing. As people have asked me to speak on this subject, I’ve had to retroactively figure out what it is that makes Prom Dates From Hell (et al.) a good *YA* book. Because I just wrote a book *I* wanted to read. So it’s only the ‘writing for teens’ part that I feel like a bit of a fraud. But not really, beause I *have* done a lot of research into it. Just after the fact. I *do* know what I’m doing as far as writing a good book is concerned.
I hope Mom doesn’t read that. There’s a Dutch word for the curse you give yourself when you say that you’re good at something. I really did grow up being told by my mother that I was brilliant and could do anything, but I should never compliment myself, or I would curse myself and lose whatever I’d just been bragging about. No wonder I’m so neurotic. Which is why I joke about these things. Because promotion is all about telling people how great you/your books are, and I guess I’m trying to dodge the curse by equaling things out!
Yes, promotion is hell for me. Though I’m not special. The keynote speaker at the conference was Bob Mayer, who mentioned in his speech that on the Myers-Briggs Personality test the "writer" type is the polar opposite from the "marketer" type. One more reason why writing is something of a masochistic profession.
Seriously. The other irony is that a lot of writers tend to be Type A control freaks. We like to write because on the page we have complete and utter control of the universe. It’s like being God and Dungeon Master combined. But if course where the *business* is concerned, once you have turned in the best book possible… you really have zero control. You can do promo, and Twitter, and do blog tours and build buzz–which, don’t get me wrong, does help–but ultimately, you have no control over whether Meg Cabot or Stephanie Meyer (or both) are going to release a book with your *same title* the week after your book comes out. :-)
Writers have to LOVE to write. Otherwise, it’s not worth it. Very few of us get paid enough to make it worth all the stress, angst and hassle. But most of us would do it for our own pleasure even if we weren’t getting paid. (Which is why I respect writers who write only for themselves or their friends.)
But of course, if you do want to be published professionally, there’s a whole other level of stuff you’ve got to do. Join a critique and/or professional education group. Go to workshops and conferences. Read books about writing and selling your book. Pay attention to what’s on the market, and how books are selling.
Though ultimately, it comes down to the craft. What you write. DO you write? Or do you just talk about writing and go to workshops and read books about writing.
Writers love to write. I guess that what *I* got out of the conference this weekend, being around such good energy from other writers is just that reminder. It’s not just about being hungry to sell. It’s about loving what we do.
So answer in the comments: What are YOU good at? It can be some part of the writing craft you do well, or some other hobby or sport. Go on. If someone asks, it’s a curse loophole. I checked. Tell me something YOU do well.
I’ll draw a name from the comments to win a copy of the latest book I loved: Going Too Far, by Jennifer Echols.