Cathy's take on books, writing, and life.
The last book in my Blaze trilogy, THE PLAYERS’ CLUB, is even now winging its electronic way to my editor. It has been a long, hard, unbelievably strange journey to get this series completed, and I have to say, it feels like I just climbed Everest.
Thanks for being there for me. Now, I’m off to bury my head in my pillow. When I wake up, it’ll be a brand new day. And a brand new book, which I hope to tell you about soon…
MWAH!
So, I’m on Twitter. (You can find me here.)
I’m checking it every day now… which is saying something, considering I’ve disappeared from the “Twitter-verse” for months at a time. Every week or so, I’ll post something. More often, I’ll re-tweet something that somebody else has posted, that’s funny or interesting.
Why am I on Twitter, you ask?
I have no bloody idea.
Okay, that’s disingenuous. I’m on Twitter because it’s supposed to be good for promotion. It’s a good way to build your platform. (And yes, I feel like I need to take a bath in Lysol for both those previous statements.) Bottom line: I’d like to build my business, and a lot of my writing friends are on there, and it’s a good source of to-the-minute info. So I’m on the damned thing.
But I’m not, you know, active. And I supposed I should be, so I started trying to figure out why I’m not more active.
There are two types of people on Twitter, at least visibly. (There is probably a third category of those who lurk like I do, but that’s the whole point of lurking: no one sees you.) The first type are the ones that really appear to be promoting. Those are the people who post about their next signing, or latest review (or, ahem, blog post, which is making me re-think posting this on it.) And that’s all they post. For a while, it’s okay, but pretty quickly it becomes ickily similar to The Friend Who Only Calls When He Needs Help Moving.
I don’t want to be that guy, obviously.
The other type are the true Twitterati. They understand hashtags and use them with ironic and humorous results. (”I hate my job. #cubicleprisoner!”) They seem to be holding conversations with a dozen people at once, they post interesting videos or relevant news clips, they drop witty little non sequitirs and they seem to be on at all hours of the day. They’ve got tons of followers. And best of all: they seem real, like people you’d want to hang out with at the bar at National.
Or, you know, hang out with your friends at a nearby table while they’re hanging out at a bar at National. So you could tell people later that you saw so-and-so, and a million people stopped by.
And she really is that cool in person.
And why weren’t you sitting with her?
Because she was one of the Cool Kids.
And that’s when it hits me. I have been weirdly Twitter-phobic because to me, Twitter is like a crowded, chaotic party where I know very few people.
So, basically, it’s like hell, online.
So I force myself to go. I lurk, eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. And when I return home, I occasionally think of the cool, witty things I could’ve said, if I weren’t afraid of looking stupid.
Which is stupid, if you think about it.
I’m not saying shyness isn’t a valid condition. It is — I know people who medicate for it. I’m also not saying that if I need to promote my writing, which I do believe in, then I’d better suck it up and get out there, glad-handing.
What I am saying is, Twitter is just a conversation. If I want to avoid it, then I can. But if I’m avoiding it because I’m feeling awkward around the “Cool Kids”…?
Oh, no. Oh, hell no. I’ve spent too long out of high school to start being intimidated by that crap. And too long recognizing that it’s just my crap that’s holding me back.
So see you online, tweeps. Tweet ya later. 
P.S. There’s a great article, 7 Tips for Becoming a Twitter Badass, that is definitely worth a read if you don’t want to become one of those first types… what my brother would poetically call a “douche.”
I’ve been having an identity crisis.
First, the writing…
For those of you keeping track, I’m still working on a trilogy for Harlequin Blaze. Due to the past three years, during which some really ass-kicking bad stuff happened all at once, I am hideously, horribly, shamefully late on this contract.
The trilogy is about a group of guys, called The Players’ Club, who basically approach life as a cross between Fight Club and The Bucket List. Sort of extreme wish fulfillment as a means of personal growth. (Don’t know about you, but I would totally join that club!) Anyway, I’m just finishing up the third book, Finn’s book… Scott and Lincoln, heroes of book one and two, are already complete. There will be revisions, but clearing out this contract is a huge step for me. So big, huge YAY there!
You know how they say when you clear something out of your life, you’re making space for something new? (They do say that. Okay, feng shui people say that, and my friends from Berkeley.) Well, “something new” has slowly been making its presence felt: an urban fantasy series first, then maybe a YA trilogy.
I am so stoked about the concepts for these stories, it’s ridiculous.
Which brings up the other thing about writing…
With all the chaos and the drama that have been swirling around my life for the past three years, I’ve felt like my writing was beyond blocked. When you’re blocked, it’s like your gas tank is empty. This was like someone stripped my car. For a while, I was even beginning to think that I perhaps should consider a different vocation. (I’d always been a decent secretary, for example.)
I got to the point where I would’ve talked to anyone, gone through any hazing, practically sold my soul to get my writing back.
Fortunately, this wasn’t necessary. Blind, fantastic luck wound up nudging me into Danielle LaPorte and her Firestarter Sessions… which, strangely, lead me to a fantastic few sites about business and getting unstuck, including Havi Brooks’ The Fluent Self that I mentioned before, and recently Naomi Dunsford’s Ittybiz, to name a few. Between them, I wound up realizing what was getting me stuck and how to get out of it — as well as what energized me.
I love, love, love teaching about writing.
If I’m at a conference, I will talk shop to absolutely anyone, from the greenest newbie to a VP of book marketing. (I sorta wish I’d realized that’s what he was before I got into that conversation!)
I was feeling drained because I was plugging away at my writing with no hope and no energy. Now, I’m working on my contracted manuscripts, my new writing project, and now… this tiny, new, amazing thing.
I’m teaching again.
If you’ve been reading my blog at all, you’ll probably realize that about 90% of it was writing related… either publishing industry stuff, or writing life or writing attitude, or whatever.
In the next few weeks, I’m going to be shifting that stuff, plus my writing teaching stuff, over to its own blog. I’ll tell you all about it, but I am so frickin’ excited, I could pop. So I wanted to give you a heads up now.
I also wanted to thank you for reading, both this and my books. It’s been a rough road, but it’s nice to know I’ve got friends out there who have my back, and I don’t think I say thank you enough, especially for all the support you’ve given.
Thank you, guys. And believe me… you’re going to be hearing from me soon.
Last week, I started writing about my 12 steps for writers. This week is part two, steps 4 through 6… where the actual “work” begins. Fun stuff!
Please note: these are based on the steps of most anonymous programs. Even if you don’t follow it as a “program” I hope you can find some useful stuff here. If not… well, I’ll be writing about other stuff soon. Just take what you like and leave the rest.
So, here we go…
4. Made a searching and fearless inventory of our strengths and our weaknesses.
This is where you write a list of your assets and defects, and you need to be as honest and clear-sighted as possible. Working this with someone you really trust, like a critique partner or writing coach, might be your best bet. You need to list what you rock at, like characterization, and what could frankly use work, like passive voice, a tendency to push deadlines or a criminal overuse of adverbs.
It’s helpful if you make sure that for every thing you see as a defect, you list something you’ve got as an asset. Trust me, they’re probably equal, even if you don’t believe it right now. Besides, in this business, you’ll probably have people lining up to knock you down. Why join the crowd?
Appreciate yourself. If you don’t, no one else will.
This might also be a good time to list what you do well and what could use work in your career… right down to your attitude. Oh, and the final thing? You don’t keep this list in your head. You’re a writer. Write it down.
5. Admitted to ourselves, to another human being and to our Higher Power exactly what our strengths and flaws are.
Admit to myself? Check.
Higher Power? Check.
Another human being?
Hmmmmm. Guess I know what I’m doing at my next crit meeting.
Of course, the funny thing is, they already know, usually before I do, what my strengths and weaknesses are. However, this way they’ll feel no compunctions about mentioning it the next time they see my work. Helping me help myself, as it were! I think it’s valuable to recognize our strengths, and own them. If you can’t be proud enough to say what you’re good at with your friends, as well as be open about your weaknesses, how the heck are you going to promote your work, right?
6. Were entire ready to have our Higher Power remove all these defects.
Think of it like dieting. You could really want to lose those twenty pounds. You could tell all your friends you want to lose those twenty pounds. But despite your best intentions, varieties of exercise regimens and nutritional programs, the damned pounds don’t go anywhere.
Then, one night, you’re in so much pain or frustration or whatever that something in you finally snaps and goes, damn it, I am so over this. You’re not trying to fit into that dress, impress that guy, shut up your family. For whatever reason, you decide you’re sick of continuing as you were.
Then the suckers go away. Maybe so slowly you don’t notice, but they do finally take a hike.
Somehow, you find what works for you, it sticks, it’s easier somehow. And the pounds will finally go away. Why? Because you were ready. No matter how badly you wanted it before, or how hard you worked, until you were ready to go all in, it wasn’t going to happen.
This process happens gradually, when you’re really ready, not when you want to be ready.
The good part? It does happen.
7. Humbly asked our Higher Power to remove our shortcomings.
This is related to the whole “letting go” concept. This isn’t where you bow down with your head on the floor and mumble “please, help me to finally stop telling instead of showing” and wham! The Defect Fairy smacks you with the enlightenment stick, and suddenly you land on the New York Times bestseller list.
“Humbly” in this case means ’seeing what’s really there’ — what’s good, and what needs work. That means no puffed up ego, too fragile to face what you do wrong. It also means no false modesty, pretending you completely suck so nobody will throw stones at you.
This step also says that no amount of force, or pressure, or superhuman effort on your part is going to make these suckers vanish any sooner.
This isn’t a passive step. You’re going to keep doing the footwork… keep asking your crit partner to whip out the red pen, keep snapping a rubber band on your wrist when you’re tempted to check your Amazon ranking, keep writing at least one page a day even when you really, really don’t feel like it.
But no matter how hard you try, if you think you’re in charge of it, the compulsion’s going to ride you like a cowboy, and not in the fun way. Instead, you’re going to let it go. It’s going to disappear, so you’re not going to worry about it anymore, beyond doing whatever tool you’ve decided to use.
And then, out of nowhere… your compulsive, painful, sucky defects are going to be gone.
Next week: part 3, where we look at our past and move toward our future. Let me know what you think so far!
I’ve seen tongue-in-cheek versions of the 12 steps for writers before, usually with snarky and amusing plays on a 12 step program. (Example: “6. Were entirely ready to have the editor hack the manuscript into little pieces of rotting sushi.”) However, I promised myself that one day, I’d have the guts to post what I feel would be a helpful “12 Step” blog, specifically for writers, adapted from the 12 steps of most Anonymous programs.
So, today’s that day. I’m breaking this down, three steps at a time, so it’s easier to absorb. And like they say in Program: take what you like, and leave the rest.
The 12 Steps for Writers
1. We admitted we were powerless over our writing careers — that our lives had become unmanageable.
We can’t control our print runs. We can’t control our covers. We can’t control stupid copy edits, raving reviewers, or even if the agent we’re querying had a bad breakup and wants to use our precious manuscripts as the backing for her dartboard. We certainly can’t control the future of print, the pricing of e-books, or an author’s increasing responsibility in the face of a really challenging and changing publishing environment.
That’s not to say we’re helpless. But at the end of the day, no matter how many promo dollars we spend, how many revisions we made, who we’re published with, and who we know, there are no guarantees about how the book’s going to do once it’s out of our hands.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Here’s where I’m probably going to get some comments.
I’m a fairly spiritual person, but even so, I didn’t make a point of asking anybody for help with anything. And, yeah, insanity followed… that wasn’t working out so well. Basically, recognizing that I did not have control over the people, places and things in my writing career was a big one. Then figuring out that, even if I didn’t, perhaps something else could. Not committing to the idea, or anything. Just being open to the idea.
For the record: atheists and people who tend to recoil when anything “religulous” crops up are actually able to work a Program successfully. Considering our profession, fate, luck, karma or “the Universe” are perfectly acceptable alternatives — although as a general rule, you assume that whatever the “Power” is, it’s
a) bigger than you are, and
b) not out to get you. That’s important.
The point is: the Power is not you. On the plus side, it isn’t your agent, editor, Amazon, or the Big 6 either… so don’t let them try to take over that spot. And trust me, some will want to.
3. Made a decision to turn our work over to the care of a Higher Power as we understood it.
(I know. Again with the Higher Power.)
In a nutshell, once you let go of the idea that you can control everything, and adjust your attitude to believe that maybe, just maybe, things are going to work out… your next step is to make the conscious choice . Say, “I have no control over this, but I believe things are going to work out.” Then (and here’s the tricky part)… you let things work out. Stop worrying. Quit with the ulcer. It’s out of your hands, it’s going to work out, and you’re going to get the hell out of the way and let it.
Maybe you won’t get signed with your dream agent or editor; then you’ll sign with someone that really is perfect for you, but you didn’t know that when you were picking out your “dream” agent. It’s the assumption that things work out for a reason. It’s the ability to reduce your stress no matter what’s going on with your career.
While deceptively simple, these three steps are really, really, SUPER hard. Especially when you’re a working writer and your family’s income depends on getting contracts, making sales, and having some modicum of success.
Since I’ve started letting go, though, I’ve discovered that 1) I’m able to write more productively and with better creativity, 2) I’ve stopped letting stuff bother me the way it used to, and 3) I feel better than I have in years.
Next week: steps 4 through 6, or where you actually start to “work” a program.
First, a quick update: I’ve been working hard on a trilogy of books for Harlequin Blaze, a series I seem to have been working on forever. Life has been intervening in a huge way, and I’m finally learning how to roll with it instead of letting it roll me. Only took me thirty-something years, but there we go. I’m really excited about moving forward with the writing projects, especially when I’ve got a YA trilogy, an urban fantasy series, and a tween chapter book series all clamoring to get out of my head.
After a series of stressful incidents in the past two years, I found myself questioning everything. I mean, everything. Especially when, having an ugly argument with someone close to me, a nasty slash came out:
“What the f*** do you know? YOU WRITE PORN FOR A LIVING!”
Yeah.
Said friend almost immediately apologized, looked just as surprised that the statement popped out as I was hearing it. Nonetheless, it hit me right in the tenders, as it were. One of those barbs that sank in and promptly got infected.
Suddenly, all my insecurities jumped in. They ganged up and started questioning:
1) why I was writing sexy, which I’d never really intended, never felt comfortable with, and don’t seem to be successful at,
2) why I was thinking of writing funny, which I’m really comfortable with, but which no one can sell at gunpoint right now, and
3) why I’m writing at all, when there are bills piling up, this “pursuing your bliss” is a ton of crap, especially when
4) it’s not like I’m curing cancer, or helping the planet, or doing anything at all resembling “being of service” which would at least make this whole pointless exercise somehow noble.
(My insecurities, I’ve noticed, are bullies. But well organized bullies. Like the mob.)
Like I said, I’ve been going through a lot. People outside my situation have been looking at me with shock and horror and giving me the “man, you must need a drink” look. It hasn’t been fun.
The thing is, I don’t drink. I don’t do anything chemical. I’ve even cut back on my chocolate intake after discovering too much sugar gives me migraines. (A sad, sad day indeed!)
Instead, I read.
During all this, I’ve been mainlining J.D. Robb. I now own every single book in the “In Death” series, and for a while there, I was reading one book a day, starting over when I got to the last book. Before that, it was Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files series. I’ve read the P.C. Cast House of Night series, the Twilight series, J.R. Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon… the list goes on and on.
I did whatever needed doing. I took care of basics: my son, myself. And I read my ass off.
I’m convinced it saved my sanity. In a roundabout way, it really did save my life.Which brings me to the epiphany.
Novels are shoulders to cry on, friends who “get” us, things to help us get through it. When I feel like crap, my human friends know — and recommend what to read.
My friends, human and literary, got me through it.
I’m proud of being a fiction writer. What we do is important. We do help people. Hell… we do save lives.
Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.
I’m stuck.
It’s not that I’m blocked. I could pound out draft in a blink. It would make no sense and go nowhere, but by God, I could make page count! That might work for NaNo… but for a contracted novel, not so much. Worse, considering this is a complete re-write of a completed crap draft.
I’ve been stuck like this before. Hell, I’ve been stuck on almost every project I’ve worked on. About two-thirds of the way into any project, I become convinced it’s utter and complete bunk, that I should throw in the towel, toss out MS Word and become either a Buddhist nun or a WalMart greeter. I tend to like what I’ve written later. Like, six months after it’s published.
That’s not helpful in the short run.
It occurs to me that, after being in the business for ten years and having this same situation occur, that I’m a slow learner. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing, over and over, and expecting different results. So I’m finally analyzing what I’m doing, and, like George Costanza, I’m making different choices.
1. No more isolating. If I can’t trust my perception, then I need to start relying on my critique partners for fresh eyes and a good, healthy thwap of common sense.
2. Feelings aren’t facts. I feel crappy about my work? Okay. But I need to write anyway. Not an entire novel in a day. Just seven pages… one scene. No matter how I’m feeling.
3. Focus on what I can control. If I start thinking about how the book will do, or how my career is doing, or what sort of sales or what’s my next contract or or or… I freeze up. I can’t control that. I can barely control my characters. All I can control is typing one word after another; putting one page of brainstorm after the next. Little things. Keep it simple.
For someone who has made a career of making life difficult, keeping life simple might just be my hardest challenge.
Oh, and for those of you who are interested in “destuckifying” – I got the term from this absolutely fantastic site, fluentself.com. It is totally worth reading, and I adore her voice. I’m also looking forward to her ideas on marketing, which she calls “biggification.”
I get the feeling I’ve got a lot more changes in store, in my writing and my life, coming up pretty soon. I’m looking forward to finding out what they are. (And, of course, sharing them with you!)
I didn’t post the last week or so because I’ve been in a funk, wrestling with a book that just hasn’t been cooperating. I’ve been making the horrible, dreadful discovery that I need to become more of a “pantser” (a notion that has the control-freak plotter in me hiding deep in the trenches and preparing for siege.) Some other stuff wasn’t going well, and I started to realize that it’s like the old adage: “When Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” Well, when my writing’s not happy…
So a good friend pointed out that, when she’s stuck, she writes out a gratitude list. Initially, I wanted to just smack the crap out of her, but as I started to slowly pull myself out of the muck, I realized she was right. So here it is: the gratitude list. Here are the reasons I can think of for being grateful for choosing writing as a profession and a way of life.
I’m sure there are more things, but that’s enough for now. What about you? Why are you grateful you’re a writer?
Quick post today. I’ve been on a reading binge, and next week I’ll be posted my awe for the goddess of romance (and mystery, I’ve discovered) genre fiction, Nora Roberts. But today, I just wanted to post two links I’ve read relatively recently.
The first is a link to “I Write THOSE Books — Keeping it Positive.” It’s easy to get bogged down with all the “haters” who think that romance fiction is not only formulaic, but literally written by a template that supposedly gets mailed out by romance editors, like some kind of Mad Lib novel. It’s easy to get discouraged when books we slave over don’t make enough to get us out of day jobs, or are disregarded as pulp, froth, and lazy fiction. I love that Holly Jacobs, one of my very favorite authors and a dear friend, is quoted with her wonderful, inspiring take on life in general.
http://www.popsyndicate.com/books/story/i_write_those_books–keeping_it_positive/
The next is a link that’s just fun. While not perhaps in the “positive” mindset, it’s also a hysterical send-up of Regency romance cliches. Sometimes, simply laughing is enough to help me put all the rest of the negativity at bay. Enjoy!
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5263464/1/A_Regency_Romance_in_2_minutes
I was setting up to write today, at the library, when I saw a book in the biography section that touted it was “the book the movie YES MAN was based on.” I figured I’d flip through it, and wound up getting hooked.
YES MAN is an autobiographical account by British humorist Daniel Wallace. It’s strangely uplifting, a really fun read. Here are just a few quotes that I wound up loving:
“I wanted to turn the clock back and shout yes to all the things I’d mumbled no to.”
“I discovered that someone else had had the exact same idea but had actually gone to the trouble of patenting and marketing it. Damn the organized and resourceful!”
“He was someone who had it all, but had decided that he didn’t need most of it.”
“I had discovered that it’s not necessarily positive thinking that changes your life, but positive doing.”
Since I’m generally an adventure-adverse introvert who sees reading a novel as an almost giddy, gleeful pleasure and the highlight of my day (in my defense, I’m a writer and the work-at-home mom of a small child), the idea of saying “Yes!” to pretty much anything seems daunting. But maybe worthwhile.
What do you wish you’d said yes to?
