IWSG - The Platform Under Your Feet

I started blogging as a sort of exercise in  'whistling in the dark.' Not knowing anything about writing - not knowing any writers - I threw myself out there and started something out of nothing. When you think of it, that's what writing is all about. You can't learn how to write until you do it. There's no other way.

Just like there's no way to build an author platform other then getting out there and making connections. CJ Lyons, at last year's Pennwriter's Conference sent a shock around the room when she said that an author platform is not a blog or twitter or facebook pages or any other material thing. An author platform is your audience. It's people. And it takes time and nurturing to build those relationships.

But it's even less mercenary than that. I have a writer friend in Missouri, a lovely state I have never visited. I have another writer friend (who recently had a possum problem in her bathroom) in Australia. Another friend is a killer gardener as well as an awesome writer, living in Kentucky (where I also haven't been - I need to get out more.) These people are cool and smart and funny and dangerously talented. And I would never have found them if I hadn't started whistling.

So, THANK YOU, fellow Insecure Writers. You don't know how vital you are.

D is for Derailed

It's a IWSG and A-Z Challenge Mash Up!
Today being the first Wednesday of the month it's Insecure Writer's Support Group and this post is also brought to you by the letter 'D'

DERAILMENT
I've been thinking about the things that derail my writing and I realize that there are some 'triggers' that lead to my going off track. I'm hoping that I can recognize these triggers ahead of time and maybe circumvent them. Though, of course, sometimes derailments just happen. The important thing is to just get back on track.

Here are the things that derail me:
Fights
I have fights with my children sometimes. Often, it's my fault, after all I'm the adult in the relationship and I should know better. But somehow I slip into a behavior that leads to frustration. Do I need to mention that this revolves eating and bedtime? Which is just before my writing time? By the time everyone is abed and I should be ready to write, I can't - or don't. I often need medicinal ice cream or whiskey (or both) I'm steaming and frustrated and huffing and puffing enough to blow a house down.
The only thing I've discovered to get through this is to go for a run. But then I'm exhausted. It's all too easy to let the writing slip off the radar.

Rejection
You know all the reasons why rejections should NEVER make you give up as a writer. Still, I can admit that getting a rejection makes it real hard to sit down and concentrate on the WIP. It's like the evil inner editor voice gets louder, "want proof that you suck? just happen to have a form rejection on a full request right here..."

Good News/Good feedback
Maybe this is just me, but sometimes when something good happens (I get a full request, someone at a conference likes my pitch, I get a really positive crit) it also derails me. I know that might be weird, but it makes me stop. Almost like I'm not sure how to react. Lethargy sets in and I think to myself, 'I'm doing gooooood." Thankfully, it doesn't last. The next derailment comes soon enough, jolting me into action. But it makes me wonder if that's what happens when a really popular author comes out with something substandard - is it this 'good news' derailment at work?

So, what derails you from writing? And how do you get back on track?


D is also for Drugstore

IWSG - When To Stop*

Insecure Writers Support Group is a monthly bloghop - check out the other participants here.

*Which is not the same thing as Giving Up.

So, on my birthday I got a rejection from an agent I really respect. Not the first, or the last time that will happen, I know. Then the next day, I got a rejection on my full. An AWESOME agent who I 'met' at a conference and who has had my full for months. It was a form rejection, though a kind one.

Unlike the 13 rejections that came before it, this one took the wind out of my sails (and the air from my lungs, the sparkle from my eyes - you get the drift.)

While struggling to recover, I tried to parse why this one affected me differently. Here's what I came up with:

1) Rejections hit in weird ways. It has to do with where you are in your day, what you've accomplished or not accomplished, if your kid drew on the wall with a black sharpie, it all has an affect.

2) This was a rejection on the full ms. Which means that I can't fool myself into thinking that the query just wasn't strong enough. The query was fine - it got a full request. The problem is in the writing. (I can hear you saying, but it's just not right for that agent, doesn't mean it's not right for another agent - I know, I'm getting to that.)

3) This was an agent and an agency that I really wanted. I didn't realize how much until I got the rejection - how much hope I'd pinned on it. It's disheartening to find that an agent that you 'connected with' doesn't connect with your work.

Aside from all the usual disparaging thoughts - I suck as a writer, my book sucks, the agent sucks (strangely, I never really think that) - a new thought emerged, "Maybe it's time to stop."

Stop querying this book. Stop thinking that this book is the one that's going to be published. Is it time to let in the thought that this might be one of (many) books that I write that goes nowhere?

Well, duh, of course that's (very) possible. But while I was blood-sweating-and-tear-ing over it, it seemed like it was THE ONE. And I got so much positive feedback, much more than I expected, from other writers and editors. I believed in the book.

I still believe in it. I wrote the kind of book I want to read. And maybe that's where the problem lies. Maybe, at this time, it's not right for the market, and no agent is going to connect with it.

The other problem is how much of a time suck querying BookEnd has become. NOT because it takes so long to send out a query - but because of the time I spend obsessively checking out new agents, checking in to QT forums and other forums, following agents on twitter, checking agent blogs - looking for crumbs of information that may somehow give me a clue, some idea how to get in. This kind of behavior feels like work, feels like accomplishment, but it's just keeping me from writing.

So, I've decided to stop querying BookEnd. I still have one full out there, and some outstanding queries. But I'm putting the breaks on it, at least until I can pull my gnat-attention span away from it and solidly onto my wip. It's one of my March Madness goals, and one I intend to keep for a long time.

So, what do you think? When is it time to move on?

Birthday Cake and March Madness

So, I got a really huge rejection today. Will talk more about this tomorrow on my Insecure Writers' Support Group post (because that's where whinging and sobbing and beating of chest belongs) but for now I'll just say, I'm flattened. I have tackled my pancaked ego in the following ways:

Ate the rest of my birthday cake. For breakfast.

Joined March Madness. Denise Jaden and other awesome authors are hosting this month long blogfest/challenge. It's simple, as all good ideas are. You set your goals for the month. You check in EVERY DAY. You become accountable to a group of people and make friends in the process. Also, you get to support each other. It's a win win. And it's the kick in the pantalones I need. What will you do this month to stave off the darkness?

Here are my goals for March:

1) To stop obsessively querying/tweaking and basically wasting time worrying about my finished ms. I need to concentrate on the new project and stop procrastinating with the last project.

2) To write faithfully, every day, at least 500 words, on the new wip.

3) To not be completely flattened and derailed by no answers and rejections for finished ms. It's what's been keeping me from concentrating on the new wip and it must stop.

4) To read and comment on at least 3 blogs a day.


What will you do this month to stave off the darkness?

ISWG - Smile Damn You Smile

I'm going to do something unusual today for this month's Insecure Writer's Group. I'm going to be positive. Now, don't worry, it won't last. I also won't be entirely positive (you, know, so you still recognize me) but I have to admit, I'm feeling pretty good.

I got a rejection this morning and it was like water off a duck's back. The reason was a combination of a) I didn't love love love the agent, only liked him lots and b) I expected to get the rejection. Not in a pessimistic way, but in a realistic way. That's how I'm feeling, realistic. Lots of people will reject my ms. I only need one person to love it (though if it could be 2 or 3, I'd be psyched.)

I'm coming to believe that this is ok, that it's not a reflection of my work. Duh, right? But it's a big step for me. I'm also thinking beyond this book. I'm thinking it's not the end of the world if this book doesn't go anywhere. I'm still writing. I'm still blogging and participating. It's such a small shift of perception but inside me it's huge.

So, are you there yet?

Insecure Writer's Support Group - Too Much of a Good Thing?

It's the bane of unpublished writers attending holiday cocktail parties. Not what to wear or if you should take your life into your own hands and try the egg nog - I wouldn't if I were you - no, it's the innocent sounding question, "So, what do you do?"

Lots of blog posts deal with the topic of whether or not to cop to the W label, and there was an interesting take on the subject on Nathan Bransford's forums a while back. My own take is that I don't use the 'w' word when I'm in non-writer company. It takes too long to explain properly, and causes misunderstandings (wait, so I can't go to Barnes & Nobel and pick up your book?)

It's even taken me a long time to say 'writer' to my own friends and family. But the hardest part isn't that they are not supportive or don't take me seriously. The hardest part is how completely and utterly they believe I will succeed.

It's irrational. They have NO REASON to believe that I'll do more than futz around with manuscript after manuscript until I either give up or am dropped off at the nearest Center for Delusional Old Ladies. Their unconditional support can feel - at times - like an albatross. Another cart load of people to disappoint if I fail.

I know this is a purposefully negative view of what should be a source of comfort, but does anyone else ever feel like unconditional support can seem like insincere support? Or am I being a total freak?

When I give crits or talk to other writers about their work I get really specific about why what they are doing is worthwhile. I don't want them to feel warm and fuzzy, I want them to believe.

That's what I want from my (sometimes) blindly supportive friends and family (Mom, talking to you here.) I want to believe.

What about you? Is unconditional support what you want? Or are you a freaky bag of contradictory needs like moi?

This is a (totally awesome) blog hop started by the incomparable Alex J. Cavanaugh. You can find the list of participants after the jump.

Bad Days - Insecure Writer's Support Group

I'm pretty sure I'm doing Alex Cavanaugh's blogfest, Insecure Writer's Support Group all wrong. Instead of writing inspirational stories of how I overcame some issue, I spend my post time moaning and whining and generally being miserable.

If you were hoping I'd say 'But not this time!' then you are going to be disappointed. Because I got no sleep last night and sleep makes me seriously half-empty.

My three year old came in to sleep with us, probably due to some post-halloween sugary imbalance. For about an hour I withstood her elbows and sticky hands on my face. Then I carried her to her bed and tucked her in. She was dead asleep. Then I tossed and turned for three hours, unable to get up, unable to play bookworm and unable to go back to sleep because I was busy worrying. I worried about finishing my revisions. I worried about how long it's been since I got a full request from my agent girl-crush that I still haven't sent because I'm not done revising (it's been six months. I suck). I mentally composed the email I'm going to eventually send to said agent when I'm ready, then discarded it as seriously stupid. I also managed to squeeze in some worry about the new wip I started for NaNo. It just goes to show how effective I can be as a multi-tasker when the task is worrying myself into an early grave.

Due to this lack of sleep, I'm completely useless today. I can barely keep my kids from playing in traffic. And my NaNo word count is hovering under 300. Today is a wash.

I know it will be better tomorrow after Tylenol PM has sorted out my insomnia, but I hate days like today. They seem like such an unnecessary waste. Do I need to have this total breakdown to get to some other 'better' place? Or, as aforementioned, do I just suck?

What about you insecure lot? What are your bad days like?

Insecure Writers' Support Group - Permission to Give Up

You know how some people are afraid of speaking in public? How they are just not able to get behind a podium without shaking like jello and spilling the water all over the mic, shorting out the entire sound system?

That's not me.

In fact, I've gotten up on that stage and presented everything from budget projections to speed networking (like speed dating but without the creepiness.) But that was for clients. I can talk any kind of nonsense in front of any number of people as long as I'm representing someone else. But as myself, as a writer?

Naked. Completely, uncomfortably and embarrassingly naked. That's how I feel. So when I realized I wanted to be a writer, I tried to come up with some structure, some thing that would give me the authority to say I'm a writer.

Yep, your looking at it. This blog. Then I went out and made bloggerly friends and read a ton about the industry. I went to a conference. I went to another conference. I blog-hopped. I lurked and commented and stalked. I was faking it until I made it. And I felt pretty good, pretty official and kosher.

Until I started getting rejections. I KNOW it's part of the process and I shouldn't take it personally. Tell that to my ego which is cowering under the (imaginary) BElieve in YOUrself embroidered pillow next to my desk. Insecurity for writers is a daily work hazard.

So I'm going to share with you my secret for soldiering on. Ready? I contemplate giving up. I think about what it would look like, feel like to just stop and say "I'm done." I let the idea of never doing this again fill my soul.

After I graduated from college I moved to England with my boyfriend. I was going to graduate school  in my favorite city in the world with the man I loved. It was going to be AWESOME. Until immigration deported my boyfriend (long, long story) and I was left alone with two duffle bags full of useless stuff and not a soul to talk to. I tried to be a grown up, find a flat, store my duffle bags, figure out what bus went to my school. But I was so lonely, so completely freaked out about not knowing ANYONE that I often cried (ok, ok wept is more accurate) myself to sleep.

I didn't know how to fill my time while I waited to see if boyfriend would be allowed back in (wrong visa, delays at consulate blah blah). One day I took the train to Oxford. it was shagging down rain. I got on the Oxford sightseeing double decker anyway. I sat behind the driver, watching him give his pater into the mic while me and a couple of Japanese tourists tried to make out the dreaming spires through rain smeared windows. The rain dripped onto my head until it drove me crazy. I went back to the train station and called my dad.

Now, brace yourself. This is before email/text/cell phones. I used a payphone with a phone card that you shoved into a slot. I cried at Dad. I told him how I was feeling and everything that had happened and why everything was so terrible. And he said the magic words.

"So, come home."

Nothing stops a weepy tizzy faster than some common sense. I could go home. I could give up. It would be easy to do. He'd pick me up at the airport and we'd forget all about this little adventure. By giving me permission to say "I give up." Dad made me realize that was the last thing I wanted to do.

I stayed for almost five years. My boyfriend eventually was allowed back in the UK. And, reader, I married him.

Go on, imagine what it would be like to throw the writing towel in. If it fills you with relief then, yeah, maybe its time to take a break. But, if like me, it makes you nauseous, like you'd rather suffer any indignity other than that, then - congrats - I confer upon you the title of 'writer.'