4 posts tagged “author”

Today was one of those days when I didn’t feel well--inside or out.

Yesterday, after arriving home and while removing groceries from the car I my head on the garage door while walking onto the garage.  It hadn’t lifted all the way and for some strange reason I didn’t see it.  That strange reason was that I was in a hurry.

I’m always in a hurry.  As a wife, and mother to 3, time is in short supply for me.
Add to that that I’m a published author, painter and psychotherapist—well let’s just say, “It gets crazy.”

I woke up this morning to a dull headache, despite the two 8 hr Tylenol I took.  That was probably due to having stayed up—past midnight—to watch the movie, Onegin, based on Pushkin’s book, Evgenii Onegin.  

All this took place after working for hours on my computer.  As a writer I’m always writing—that is when I’m not picking up children, helping with homework, counseling them on peer issues—and then there’s cooking, washing clothes—you name it I’m doing it.  And let’s not forget I still have my book that I’m working hard along with my publisher to publicized and market.

It’s a lot.

I was tired when sitting down to write this blog despite having slept until 2pm.

My husband was glad that he can provide a life wherein I can do it.

I still don’t feel I’ve done enough.

There’s so much to do.

I had no ideas on what to write.

They headache is still with me.

Oh, and let me add, I’m observing Ramadan.

And then I thought of this prayer—for accepting our humanity.

I had read it three nights ago when assisting my 9th grader with their religion assignment.  

My heart warmed while re-typing it.  

I’ve listed it below.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Prayer for Accepting Our Humanity

I am a person like no one else in
 the world.

I am the people I have met.
I am the mistakes I have made
   and the wisdom I have gained
I am the lessons I have learned
  and the good ones I have given.
I am the good times in my life
   and the bad ones too.
I am the emotions I have felt
  And the thoughts I have
     thought.
   
God I am the life I have lived.
Although it’s not a perfect one,
understand that I’m doing the best
      I can
      With what you have given me.
Because all that I have to work
     with…is me.
      
                     (Tom Moore
                     Dreams Alive, p. 24
                     and
                     The Catholic Faith Handbook
                     For Youth, p. 52)
 

Yesterday I read the details of a writer’s experiences over a few days when all went awry.  She wrote of e-mails carrying her newsletter not going through to readers, and then of her receipt of rejections from three agents. Yes, she wrote “…three agents.”  I was extremely touched at the writer’s honesty. Life’s not easy for me and I’m published.

This is not to say all is going bad in my life. Neither was all going terribly in this writer’s life.  But the travails of those recent days were emotionally harrowing. And I have had my share of downers so I could relate.
 
The writing life—the path of the writer/author, published or not—is one of conflict.  It is from our conflicts—bother inner and outer—that we write.  Question is, how much conflict is too much?

Sometimes I feel it is overwhelming.  I’m sure this writer felt the same during her days of hell, as she entitled them. For me the struggle is an inner one. The writer of the article was getting it from all around.
But my lot can always, has and will eventually change.

Change is the one constant upon which we can all depend—the ultimate transformation being death.
In a way the writer of the article went through a small death. I did too in reading her story.
It reminded me of all the times I have and did crawl in bed and pull the comforter over my head.

In that I am published and I have thoroughly enjoyed working with my publisher, I have much to be, and for which I am extremely grateful.  Yet the internal critic, the voice inside my head speeds on talking, mumbling, shouting and complaining.  Nothing is ever right, from the critic’s perspective. As a result I am forever stretching to attain perfection—both within and outside of me.
I am now reminded of the old saying, “Perfection is the enemy of good.”

I need to be working on my next novel.

Well perhaps I feel I should be.

Or rather I want to be.

But alas, I am tired.

Needs.

Should’s.

Want’s.

The mind has a way of blurring the boundaries separating the three.

After working with my publisher, who also happens to be my editor, and a good one at that, from January 2007- May 2007 to get my book ready to go to press—and then spending June until now on drumming up publicity—working this time working with the director of marketing, I want a break.  Again I am grateful for so much assistance from my publisher. At a time when most authors cannot call up their publisher and speak to the movers and shakers of the company, I am always well received when calling them.  I am truly grateful.

Yet, I’ve lost count of how many days I have sat down to my computer, and didn’t rise until 8 hours later.  I’ve had to learn the new rules of marketing and public relations over the internet.  I am told that where the two are separate entities in the old, pre-internet world of doing business, they have now merged.

It is work being a writer. We are called to task each day--whatever phase one is in as an author—novice attempting to refine her or his skills at crafting stories, writer with a story and trying to get an agent or publisher, newly published author, or seasoned writer published thrice time double thrice.

It was nice on this morning to turn on my computer and when checking my e-mails read this story of a writer’s struggles—a story filled with honesty to which many, if not all of us and on many days can and do attest.

Thank you, Hope, for your humility and honesty.

I pray I exhibit as much authenticity when my time rolls back around.

Read Hope Clarke’s story, Hope’s Hell, in Volume 7, Issue 38 September 23, 2007 at:

http://www.fundsfor writers.com/FFW.htm
While there check out her website: FundsforWriters
 
 

In all my years of writing, to craft my stories and then writing to improve my skills at crafting stories no one ever talked about the amount of writing a published author must do in an effort to publicize her or his works.

Perhaps that is because when I started writing stories, and in the years that followed wherein I labored at refining my skills at crafting fiction, no one, at least not those of us in my writing classes, realized the grasp that the internet would take on our lives, as both consumers, and anyone working to reach consumers.

I began writing seriously twelve years ago, although unbeknownst to me my apprenticeship in the field had actually begun three years prior.

During the years since, we in America have gone from exhibiting a continuum of timidity toward conducting basic social functions of meeting other individuals on-line among the few trailblazers who jumped at the opportunity to conduct various financial matters over the internet, to a society that now lives, breathes, learns and creates and communicates with family and community on-line.  
                                                                      
The internet is what connects us with the world, like it or not, and our dreams, and ourselves.  No reputable businessperson would attempt to sell anything today without first establishing an internet presence. Whenever we hear of someone, whether by word-of-mouth, over the radio or see them on television, we look to the internet for information that legitimizes what we have been told.  No longer do the traditional forms of media, newspapers, television, and magazines satiate our appetites always craving to know the latest on who is who and what is going on about them.

Yet the internet and its assistance to authors, especially fiction writers, is rarely, if ever discussed in writing circles, and little to none in institutions teaching us to refine our skills at creating stories—MFA Programs in Writing and the like. Even the non-traditional, low-residency programs, speak little of it--academic institutions where the use of the internet maintains of the viability and usage of such programs, speak little of this important and vital information we must acquire, better yet, develop a working knowledge of how it intersects with and influences our ability as aspiring writers to sell our product—stories, novels, essays, poems, etc.

Why is this?

I suppose as with any and everyone, change forces us to look at ourselves, and what we are about. More importantly it asks of us who we are, and tests the fiber of our commitment to what it is we say we are about.

The internet puts literary artists to the test. How much are we willing to part with the words we craft and hone into stories and essays, both conveying our thoughts and feelings toward the larger effort of getting our message out to the world? Or did we choose this art form as a way to work out the question of identity at the expense of readers who purchase our books?

Yesterday, at the suggestion of my internet publicist, I released a book into the wild.  I did it through using the website, bookcrossings.com.  

Basically you register with bookcrossings.com as you would with facebook.com or myspace.com. Once a member you give the title of the book you are going to release, and the name of where you have left it. The site manger configures the actual address according to the information you have given.  

I left a copy of the book I wrote, Keeper of Secrets…Translations of an Incident, in a café in Berkeley.

On leaving the café at 6pm—the internet publicist and I were the last patrons and they were trying to close—the person closing up noticed the book, and asked, “Did one of you leave your book?”

My publicist and I exchanged giddy glances.  In addition to the book I had left a $10 bill in the back flap for the finder to have a cup of coffee or tea and a pastry on me. I included this in the instructions given on bookcrossings.com and in the front of the book where I signed my name.

The publicist remained silent as I disclaimed owning the book.

The café worker, a little puzzled, glanced at the book, as we looked on, I wondering whether the worker would be the person who would become the book’s owner.

Once outside the publicist explained that she had remained silent because months ago she had gone to the counter in the café’ and asked if she could leave with them a copy of another client’s book she was promoting, and they give it to the person—a person who had read on bookcrossings.com about the book being left at the coffee shop—who would come there and ask for it. The person behind the counter had said, “No.” That person had been the worker who had seen us out, asking if one of us had left the copy of my book.

And now she had my book, essentially not knowing I had left it.

She may have later figured out I was the owner of the copy. A color photo of me is in the back flap. That’s also where I left the money.  The publicist said, “She’ll probably take the money,” and leave the book.

This morning I received an e-mail from a member of bookcrossing.com. They were so excited at what I had done, despite stating they probably would get there in time to get the book.  They live outside of Berkeley and weren’t sure they’d be coming in today for Mass as they usually did.

The person added they had researched Keeper of Secrets…Translations of an Incident and felt it to be a thought-provoking read.  The person praised my venture—that I had released something positive into the universe—and considered the $10 an added treat. They wished me blessings on my week ahead.

I would like to have sold a copy of my book.  Isn’t that the name of the game in America?  What I did goes against the grain of all we are taught in the publishing business. Don’t give your writing away.  

But the internet is forcing us to change our ways of doing business.
And I need blessings.  

What to do?

I’ve already spoken with workers at the Starbucks near where I live.  Their manager arrives tomorrow morning at 8:30.  I’ll speak with her about leaving a copy of Keeper of Secrets…Translations of an Incident there too.