Deadlines Don't Scare Me!

I've done it!

I have finished the first round of edits on time!

Shortly after my last post, I received a red-slashed package in my e-mail. I knew what to expect, but it didn't cushion the blow of seeing all those red marks spattering my hard work. 

I can't speak for other writers, but I, for one, thrived in the face of such a challenge. I was given a little over a week to complete the corrections, and I dove right in with a great cannonball splash.

Even though I barely spoke to my family for a week, and my housecleaning suffered, I had a blast! This writing thing is such a cursed blessing. I'm loving every single ounce of it. Even the hair-pulling parts. Such a whirlwind of emotions. One moment frustrating, the next, exhilarating. 

The whirlwind won't stop at the editing process. Once Wallflower is all pretty and polished to a mirror shine, I have to market my book. 

That's a full-time job in itself. I must admit, I don't have a clue where to start. So many avenues. So many websites. How do I get my foot in the door? How do I get on that list everyone seems to be on for invitations to guest blog and interview? How do I become an active participant in selling Wallflower?

Though it may be mind-boggling now, don't get me wrong. I'm enjoying every minute. Next step: Round two edits. I'll keep you posted.

Shut up Murphy!

Have you ever heard of Murphy's Law?

The contemputous and fictional Murphy states "If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong."

This seems to be our mantra since we moved to Oregon...No, actually since Billy and I have been together. Life or fate or whatever you want to call it seems to have a bottomless sack of monkey wrenches to hurl into the gears of our well-oiled plans, no matter how small. The bigger and more important the plan, the more monkey wrenches we can expect.

The latest wrench?

I'm writing this entry from our brand new laptop. We were forced to spend a chunk of our precious tax return on this infernal, but utterly necessary contraption since our other dinosaur decided to join the ranks of instinction last week. As with any of our wrench-riddled life lessons, this one was unexpected and expensive.

Meanwhile, I couldn't get online. I couldn't check my email. I wondered if my publisher had contacted me. I pictured said publisher huffing and puffing at their desk because their newest venture was being...difficult. I imagined the worst: Finally getting online only to behold an angry email sprinkled with expletives about how ungrateful and unprofessional I behaved. This nightmare email always ended with YOU'RE FIRED! (Yes it was in all caps in my nightmare as well.)

You can imagine my relief when no such email was found once I was able to return to the www. 

In fact, NO email was found from my publisher at all...Now my fright has turned to panic with a chaser of disillusionment. What are they waiting for? My release date is scheduled for mid April. Hadn't we better get going on the editing?

Oh well. No news is good news, I suppose. In the meantime, I'll happy pluck away at my latest project, "Furthermoore." And I'll be doing it on my new $500 japanese-made monkey wrench. I'm not exaggerating when I say that as I prepare to finish this post with my fingers curled stiffly over the keyboard, I cast my perturbed, puckered puss skyward and ask Mr. Murphy to go pick on somebody else for a while.

Bye all!

The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Boy oh boy, do I have news for you!!   

After five years of querying agents, researching publishers and slogging through slush piles across the country, I've landed a book deal for Wallflower!!

Yes, you heard me right. Wallflower has found a home.

I've signed up with Bradley Publishing. They believe in me and my book and they have eagerly offered to market Wallflower to the masses in the form of e-book and paperback.

Let's pause here a moment and reflect. Take a deep, satisfied breath in the realization that I am going to be a published author. Zen...

Wow, what a feeling.

I can't wait to get going on the editing process. Yes, I know it's going to be difficult. Yes, I know that I may not like some of the mutilations...I mean, changes they suggest for the manuscript, but it is a necessary evil. In reality, I welcome such input. I don't get a lot of writer-to-writer interaction here in this not-so-upscale RV park or in Salem for that matter. I'm simply desperate for some writer show-n-tell. It's what I live for, after all.

In a few months, I'll have a book cover to post on my website and a novel to market. I'm just so proud. I imagine it feels like raising a baby to adulthood and watching all your hard work strike out on its own to change the world.

I did it. I'm a legitimate author.

Stay tuned for my adventures in editing. Today is the first day of the rest of my life and I'm ecstatic!

Afraid of Fear

I was just reading a novel by Mary Higgins Clark in which her character states that Emily Dickinson may have been a better writer if she was able to face her emotions instead of being afraid of them. I've been dealing with that very same thought in my own writing lately.

Many bad things happened to me as a child. Although I had a privaledged upbringing, my mother was still abusive. It took me thirty-five years to find my calling as a writer and I credit my horrendous mother and difficult childhood for leading me to writing. But the sentence I read in MHC's book struck a cord with me. I am afraid of my own emotions and I know it's negatively affecting my writing.

If I can't face my own emotions, how can I possibly expect to convey them to the reader?

You'll find this situation a lot in the world of writers. Most successful or memorable writers and poets were successful and memorable because of their tormented minds; Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe and Ernest Hemingway just to name a few. Where would we be without the products of their tortured psyche?

Everyone's had it rough in their life. I'm certainly not going to sit here and wax superior on my mental issues. Writers are an eclectic bunch, that much is certain. It's because of their torment and obstacles and abuse that their message is so relateable. But I have some work to do. Somehow, I have to stop being afraid of crying and welcome the tears. I have to stop being terrified of terror and write about it. Somehow--and I don't know how--I have to trust the world and people and myself. Somehow I have to close my eyes and allow myself to fall backward, trusting that something will catch me.

Until I can let the trust in, my writing will only be good. It will never be profound.

Am I alone in feeling this way? Are there other writers out there who feel that something is missing from their writing? Would Sylvia have written as well if she were mentally stable? Would Ernest have touched as many hearts without the alcohol? If Edgar hadn't suffered great losses, would his lyrics have been lost in time?
What are your thoughts? Do you consider yourself a tortured artist or does beauty determine your prose?

Is Unique a Good Thing or a Bad Thing?

Greetings followers and friends!

I have two dilemmas to pose to you today and keep this in mind: I ABSOLUTELY WANT YOUR INPUT ON BOTH.
Ready? Great.

Recently a writer friend took the time to read a short story of mine. She enthusiastically enjoyed it and when I asked her what she thought of my style, she replied, "It was entertaining and easy to read." Now, I'm all for the "entertaining" portion of her response. It was the "easy to read" part that irks me. It's not the first time someone has mentioned that my writing is "easy to read".
Why does it irk me, you ask?
Well, I'm not sure if I should take such a statement as a compliment or an insult. When they say "easy to read", does that mean that my writing flows with no obscure thesaurus words to snag your brain on or does it mean that my writing is elementary level like something my twelve-year old daughter might hastily scribble for English class???
There's a big difference there. I certainly don't want to slather my query letters all over the internet if the response is going to be "What a sweet kid" or "Awww, isn't that cute. She's trying to write."

Dilemma #2 is still in the realm of dilemma #1, but resides somewhere on a side street:

Have you ever noticed all the books that end up on Oprah's nightstand are heart-wrenching, soul-searching, Kleenex-consuming epic tales?
I don't write like that. I write for entertainment purposes. When I sit down to read a book or watch a movie, the last thing I want is a good cry. But these are the best-sellers, folks. These are the reasons we have Pulitzers.
Secondly (and this is directed to the fellow writers out there,) have you noticed how established authors can break every steadfast law of writing once they've built a name for themselves? Gone are the days of adhering to the publishers rules of "good writing". Sure! Use all the adverbs you want. Have a field day with dangling participles and head-hopping POV changes.
For an author looking to be signed to a deal for the first time, such offenses are a death sentence.
I do not write stories to stir long-buried emotions or to tackle the crimes of humanity. I offer my readers a fun, adventurous read. Apparently, I'm the only writer on the planet to do so.
So here's my question to you: Is my unique, non-life-altering writing style going to keep me from getting signed or is it going to set me apart from the herd of conforming sheep??
In the writing world, is "unique" a good thing or a bad thing?
Your input on the subject would be greatly appreciated. If you'd like to see a sample of writing for research purposes or otherwise, please see my website under "Creations".

NaNo Fever

It's that time again. November is National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo) and anyone who's been writing for six months or more knows about the NaNo challenge: 50,000 uncensored, unscripted words in 30 days.
Last year I missed this event. I had just finished a novel and I wanted a breather. As I watched the month progress without me participating, I was delighted (and I'll admit, envious) of my writing buddies progress and excitement. I lived vicariously through them, offering words of encouragement when they stumbled and cheers when they succeeded. All the while I vowed to be a part of the great NaNo adventure in 2011.
Has it already been a year???
Now I feel hurried to pick a project and run with it. At first I was going to use the challenge to finish my NIP, but that wouldn't fit the spirit of the exercise. If I wanted to do it right, I'd have to start from scratch.
Mind you, this is no problem. I have what I like to call my "Safety Deposit Box". It's a list of all the novel and short story concepts I've come up with over the years, and I have plenty. At last count, I have 24 novels waiting to be born. It shouldn't be a problem picking one, should it?
Riiiigghht.
I love them all. Where shall I start?
There are a few I can eliminate on the basis that they are short stories, not novel-length. A few more I can eliminate since they require a more seasoned writer and plenty of research to pull them off properly. That leaves about 15 choices and only a few days in which to make my choice. Oh how I hate choices!
So, are you joining the insanity this year? Do you think you can handle 50,000 words or will you crack-up under the pressure?
Find me on Facebook or on the NaNoWriMo website (see above link). I'm listed under both as "Jennifer B. Fields. We can crack-up together, cuz I'm doin' this, baby!
Best of luck to you crazy writer-types.

Interaction Required

Hi! Remember me?
Yes, it's been awhile, but I'm still here...plucking away. My family and I are struggling. Although we now have jobs and can pay our measly bills, we're still living in a 22ft travel trailer with three dogs. For those of you keeping count, that's three people + three dogs divided by 22ft of cramped space and stale air. Dog hair and B.O. are the biggest issues. Obviously when I'm not writing, I'm cleaning. And might I say, "Thank God for a good vacuum!" And Swiffer Dusters,
And disinfecting wipes,
And (last but not least) air freshener!
Although my life is anything but settled, I'm still writing. I have commandeered the tiny, fold-down table in the trailer as my desk territory. I have my laptop. I have my printer and I have a coffee pot. What more could a girl ask for?? Well, perhaps a door. You know, a door that is attached to four walls providing privacy when said door is closed.
But I digress.
We're as settled as can be until we can afford a house of our own. We'll get there...eventually.
Now I'm turning my efforts toward getting to know my new town and community. It's easy for me to make friends. Harder to keep them once they find out how...eccentric I am. I think Salem will be different in that department. There are plenty of people here who are the same brand of eccentric as me, if not more so. That's why we chose Salem. It seems to be where "my kind" migrates.
We've been here four months and I've noticed my need for interaction is growing increasingly urgent. I need to be with other writers. I crave stimulating conversation on the subject I've devoted my life to. I cannot tell you how hard that is to find. Once I do find it, I weep for the person on the receiving end of my deluge. Think about it: I've been holding all of this in for...how long?? Months? No, years! I'm going to be a chattering time-bomb of repressed ideas, expressions and dreams.
How can any writer contain themselves with such riches?
Easier than I can, apparently.
Since I've been in Salem, I've met two women who have always dreamed of writing a book. One of those women has a list of story ideas waiting to be written...but she doesn't do it!
How is this possible?!?
When I was starting out, there was no way I could ignore my muse until a later, more convenient time. You don't argue with your muse! A writer is ruled by their muse, so much so that it robs them of sleep, gets them in trouble at work, makes them pull to the side of the freeway when an idea hits them.
I have another example that irks me. The other day, I watched the Lifetime movie about J.K.Rowling's story. If the movie is accurate, she wrote all seven Harry Potter books and left them sitting in a box (albeit a decorative box) for ten years before she let anyone have a peek at it.
That would drive me insane!
I want everyone to read my books. At this point, anyone will do. And Heaven help the person who shows a glimmer of interest in my work. I'm shoving stories at them left and right. "Here, read this. You'll like this one. Here's a short story. Do you like Fantasy stuff? Try this one."
Sure. I sound desperate, but the truth of the matter boils down to two things:
1.) As Stephen King said in his book "On Writing", everyone needs their Ideal Reader, someone who will read their stuff and be perfectly honest about what they read.
2.) Writers need the interaction of other writers. If they're anything like me, they might implode if they don't get the interaction they need. More so if you're an introverted writer. You could be a literary genius, but if you don't get out there and meet people, no one will ever know you exist.

I thought that was the end of my post, but as I reread, I felt the need to add a critical piece of advice. When you're talking to a writer who is spilling their creative guts to you about their work, listen to them. Don't shut them off or find some way to get away from them (unless they're creepy, and you know what I mean by creepy.) Perhaps they're just like me. They haven't had a kindred spirit to talk with. Once the initial barrage is over, your relationship could have the potential for give-and-take.
Too often I've met writers who don't care about anybody else's stuff. Their work is all that exists to them. Sure, your time is valuable, but you might be looking at your Ideal Reader. The motor-mouth you meet at a party could be your most valuable critic in the future. Give 'em a chance. You never know...