Hello, Wonderful Writers!
 
The author journey is long. Long. It takes forever to get an agent. Even when you sign with one, it can take months to years to sell your book. Then you wait for it to come out. And to get the next book deal. In between, there are a lot of things to wait for: people to read and give you feedback, wait times until reveals and announcements, delays in getting an answer so you can move on to something else.
 
This process takes a LONG time.
 
But, it’s not all an endless, sweaty slog along a dusty trail. I swear. There are many bright spots along the way. Today, I want to talk about something else that happens during the writing journey: a bunch of seemingly inconsequential events that actually are really important.
 
I learned this concept as a psychology pre-doctoral intern, leading a CBT psychotherapy group for people in recovery from addiction. One of our therapy concepts was Seemingly Inconsequential Decision: or, the little, unimportant choices we make daily that keep us stuck in a loop that replays our addiction. The decision to get gas here instead of there (because here just happens to be near the market where we buy our cigarettes or the bar we like to stop at after work). The decision to skip a workout, which leaves more time open, which means we might get bored, which increases the chances that we’ll want to hang out with the wrong crowd. In therapy, by helping clients see how these seemingly unimportant events are actually important, they gain greater insight and more muscle to power forward in their recovery.
 
Right now you’re probably like: 1) what does this even have to do with writing? and 2) I thought this was supposed to be motivational; how is this positive?
 
I’m getting there, I swear!

Trail Marker 2: I joined a critique group that I located through those materials. That group wasn’t the best fit for me, so I ended up joining another one, which also wasn’t the best fit for me, so I found another one in the summer of 2013. In that group, I noticed an old friend, the wonderful Cristina Dos Santos, who I’d lost touch with maybe seven years prior, but who was apparently writing. I reached out to her, and she invited me into her writers’ group.
 
Trail Marker 3: That group was the right fit. Those ladies are now some of my best friends. Now, I have all these new best friends!
 
Trail Marker 4: One of them told me about a small press looking for stories for an anthology. So I wrote one, and that ended up being my first accepted story. That wasn’t the end of my journey; getting into an anthology wasn’t my end goal, but it was a fabulous success that motivated me and led to more opportunities. One of the authors on that anthology became one of my current CPs; we still trade manuscripts.​​

I came to writing at a time when I was tired, worn out, burned out. I’d just finished my degree in psychology, which involved many years of classwork, exams, and applying for multiple training positions—many of which required competing against other students for scarce spots. For a decade, I did little for me other than my absolute necessities. I missed sleep, I missed parties, I missed trips. I stayed home when everyone else went and had a good time.

I told myself it was worth it.

And ten, a decade later, I was done, and instead of feeling energized, I was tired. And so I wrote. I wrote not knowing if I’d finish my first book. I wrote not knowing how to write at all, not really, not the way that works for fiction, but I did it anyway. And before that first book was done, I was ready for more and ready to put myself out there. My first queries met with only rejection, which was appropriate—they were terrible—but at that time, I didn’t understand how to make them better. All I knew was that I wasn’t good enough, which was hard. I thought of giving up, but as the stress built—from work, from rejection, from everything else in life—I needed to get it out, and so I wrote.

​Three years in, I finally found my writer tribe, and they taught me SO much. And then life happened, reminding me that utter ruin is just around the corner. No matter how well you prepare and how hard you work, you can still end up with nothing. Then life took people I loved—including my cheerleader—and bestowed disease on people I can’t bear to lose. And the rejections kept coming, as if everything in my life was okay. As if could handle one more letdown. And I coped with the stress the only way I knew how; I wrote. Until the day I didn’t get a no. That day, four years into my journey, I got a yes. 

My first yes.

My mom still had cancer, and the future was still uncertain, but my story was going to be published in a real book, and it was the most incredible moment of my life. Even to this day. I will never forget what that email was like. I had leveled up. New things were now possible. Everything was possible. I’d done it. And I was more motivated than ever, and so I wrote.

I didn’t sleep for about two weeks after that, because every time I tried, that excitement came back. And it was a good thing, because for the first time in over a year, I was not-sleeping for a good reason. The stories filled my brain, and I woke up, tired but exhilarated, and I wrote them. 

That one yes helped ease the no’s that came right after, but then something amazing happened. Another yes. And then another one. And then, a maybe—from an agent. An agent! My first requests came in, and I was sure it was going to happen. It. I’d be a writer. For real. And so I wrote.

Then the big disappointment. The day the call came, but it wasn’t the real call. It was my lowest point of all. Everything that had happened in the months prior came down on me, and it was like all that potential I’d seen had been smoke and mirrors. I cried. Then I stopped. And the info from the call that wasn’t the call was running through my brain, and before the redness had left my eyes and the stuffiness had left my nose, I wrote. 

The possibilities and potential weren’t gone. More good things came. The competition, the call that was the call, then the offer. With these things came more excitement than I can capture in words, but they brought stress and uncertainty and self-comparison and not-measuring-up. At times, I realized that, though six years had passed since I typed the first words, I almost felt like I was in the same place. And so I wrote, because nothing eases the stress of being a writer like writing, like the story in my head.

In mere months, my book will be out, and I have no clue what that road will be like. It will definitely be exciting, and I’m sure I’ll have more sleepless nights—the good ones—but I’m sure I’ll have some of the bad, too. But I’ll be okay, because over the eight years since I started this “hobby,” I’ve learned so much, I’ve met incredible people, and I have a fabulous team behind me (including my mom, who’s doing well!). I can’t control what people will think of my book. All I can control is what I do next. The thing I’m most grateful for is that the writing never stopped being fun, exciting, and energizing. It’s still the thing that gets me through. I really hope people love my book, but if they don’t, there will be another book. I don’t know that, not yet, but I know it all the same. And, in the meantime, I’ll write. Because what else am I going to do?

NB: Last month, I wrote a post about my journey, and this is the same story, but not a story of dates and milestones. In some ways, this is the real story. To all the Wonderful Writers out there, if you’re looking for your cheerleader, let me be it. As long as you’re writing, you’re a writer. As long as you don’t quit, you can’t fail. And, never forget: You can do it! You can write!

​Happy New Year, Wonderful Writers! I took a break from posting during December so I could focus on writing/editing and also enjoy the holidays. I hope you all had a fantastic holiday season and are ready for a new year of writing, reading, and moving forward toward your goals.

The start of a new year is a time when I always stop and think about where I am and how I got here. I often reflect on my path to my first career as a psychologist and all the things I accomplished. My favorite way to do this is to reflect on all the things that I’ve done/achieved or are happening now that weren’t part of my life 1 year ago.

For writing, for example, one year ago, I didn’t have the book deal for my debut novel, TEN AFTER CLOSING. I sit here writing this post on January 8th, and the offer came the evening of January 9th. It’s hard to put myself back to what it felt like to be in that place, waiting to see if my first experience with submission would go well or end in disappointment. Out of all my writing challenges, the hardest time was the interim between my agent telling me we had very strong interest on my book and the day the offer came. 

When I first started writing, which was late 2010, I started as a hobby. I literally had a conversation with myself about how I needed a new hobby, and I thought it would be fun to see if I could write a novel. I finished my first one about a year later, and I already knew I wanted to pursue a career in writing. (You can read my post about how I queried pretty much as soon as I finished that book, even though it was not even close to ready, right here. LOL!) I didn’t start 

long ​as necessary to reach whatever success is waiting for me. But back then, it just felt so daunting. 

- Fall 2010: Started writing November, I think)
- Summer 2011: Told a dear friend I was writing, and she wrote me a note with my favorite inspirational phrase
which will sound familiar if you follow my posts): You can do it! You can write!
- December, 2011: 1) First book done (but not  fully revised; I finished revisions in summer 2015. Starting with book three, my revisions started taking way less time, but my first two books were a hot mess and I still had SO 
much to learn.)  2) First (highly misguided) queries sent.
- January, 2012: Asked a writer, who was a friend of a friend, for some info/resources, and found my first critique
group through SCBWI.
- July, 2013: Connected with my writing group! (YAAAAYYYY!!!!!!!!!)
- November, 2013: Second book done (but not fully revised; I finished revisions in Feb. 2016).

​So, as you can see, between my first words on that first blank page and:

- First ‘yes’ on anything: just over 4 years
- First book contract: 5.5 years, 
- Agent offer: 5.5 years, 7 books, and 9 short stories
- Contract on TEN AFTER CLOSING: 6.5 years, 9 books, and 9 short stories
- The release of my book BROKEN CHORDS: 7 years, 11 books, & 9 short stories
- The release of my book TEN AFTER CLOSING: almost 8 years, 12+ books (I’m not sure what my drafting schedule will be this 
  Year)

If someone had told me, the day I started my first book, that it would take more than 5 years to get an agent and almost 8 for my first official novel to come out, I doubt I would have been like, “Yeah. Sign me up for THAT, please.” I would maybe have curled up into a ball and cried. I might never have started. 

This has been the most exciting seven years of my life. There were so many milestones along the way. Meeting new people, learning new things, small successes. Yes, there was a lot of stress, waiting, and the challenge of so many rejections. If I put all my rejections into this time line, we’d have AT LEAST 120 additional bullets. AT LEAST. But still, it’s been an amazing seven years. It’s been more fulfilling, rewarding, and FUN than I would have ever imagined. 

I love writing, and I can’t even picture what my life would be like today if I hadn’t had that conversation with myself about needing a new hobby (or if I picked something other than fiction like, say, knitting. Hmm… Yeah. That would have been different, but I’d probably have a lot of cool sweaters and blankets by now.)

So, no matter where you are on your writing journey, I wish you success, but more than anything, I hope you are having FUN! And remember, the only way to fail, is to stop before you reach your goals. 

You can do it! You can write!

Hello, Wonderful Writers!
 
It’s NaNoWriMo time! If you’re a writer and you’re reading this, you probably know what NaNoWriMo is. If not, here goes: November is National Novel Writers’ Month, and each year, all November long, writers all over the world commit to completing the first draft of a manuscript, usually 50-thousand words long, though some of us commit to longer works. The web community around NaNo is super fun, and if you’re a writer who isn’t familiar with it yet, definitely check it out.
 
I’ve been doing NaNo for a few years now, and I spent the last couple weeks of October getting my next WIP all plotted and set up in Scrivener so I was able to jump in and start writing on November 1st. This process, which is something I do for all new MSs, got me thinking about plotting versus pantsing.
 
I know this is one of the hottest debates writers can have, and I’m not here to try to lure anyone over to the side of the Jedis (*cough plotter cough*). Seriously, though, as a die-hard plotter, I wanted to share a perspective that has been on my mind for some time. Plotters are pantsers who do their pantsing before they sit down to start a draft.

So, for my plotting friends out there, next time someone asks you the dreaded question, just tell them you’re both. Because plotters are just pantsers who do the pantsing before they sit down in front of that blank page.
 
Good luck to all of you doing NaNoWriMo 2017. I hope you all “win!” See you on the other side.
 
And, as always, I will end with the motto spoken to me by my dear friend, who has been gone for over four years now (which I actually can’t believe): You can do it! You can write!

Happy September, Wonderful Writers! 

Before I get started, a HUGE thanks to Amber Gregg for hosting my  ​It's a Writer Thing series on her lovely site.

It’s been a whirlwind this summer, what with my first time as a Pitch Wars mentor and all the work I’ve been doing on my own books. I finished my second manuscript for the year in August, which was my 11th book in total. Holy moly! But, finishing my latest MS got me thinking about productivity.

I acknowledge that I’m a fast writer, but I owe my productivity to something more important: I practice finishing books.

​flirting with us from across the coffee house. Keeping us up at night. So how can we be blamed for jumping ship on the current work in progress? I get it. I love all my new ideas, and boy do I have a to-be-written-list burning a hole in my brain. But let’s not forget what comes after the tough middles: the alluring endings! They deserve to be written. We owe it to them not to lose steam halfway through.

But if we let new ideas seduce us, we’ll never learn our process for finishing. I will repeat that and turn it into a statement: All writers need to learn their own process for finishing books. Here’s why.

​And it must be practiced. The preparation is part physical but it’s also hugely mental. As a result of this mental Cross Fit, something very important happens: They learn what to expect. 

​When they get back out there next time, and when it gets tough, they have figured out what to look out for in their bodies, how to harness their bodies’ power, and how to focus their brains. 

They have a Not-Quitting Process. A Finishing Process. They can say to themselves: This is just like last time, and last time I got it done. I can do that again. 

Writers need that too. 

We need to practice starting, middling (Is middling a verb? Well it is now!), and finishing. And we need to do it with more than one book. Inevitably, the current WIP will start to feel boring. The shine will be off. Maybe we’ll write ourselves into a corner or a whole maze of corners. And, lo and behold, there’s Shiny New Idea winking at us all sultry and pretty. But, like a marathon runner who can predict his rhythms during a race, we need to predict ours when it comes to the marathon of writing a book. 

you they were running a marathon today and they’d never trained a day in their life, you’d be like whaaa…? And if they couldn’t do it, you’d be like: “Uh, buddy, you’ve never done this before. Go easy on yourself.” So, why beat yourself up for not finishing a manuscript when that’s a skill that takes learning, too? Don’t beat yourself up; practice.

The learning process, the stamina-building is normal, natural, and necessary. 

Therefore, my biggest motto is: Finish what you start. Everything you start. Then, one day when you’re all successful professional authors and you have deadlines or an editor waiting for an option book, your game will be in place. You’ll be able to say, Yes, I can get that to you INSERT  YOUR DEADLINE DATE HERE. I’ve got a process. I’ve done this before. Deep breath. Here goes.

Hello, wonderful writers!

I wrote about the Big R—rejection—several months back, but as we get closer to Pitch Wars, I find myself reflecting on the OTHER Big-R: revision. That’s what Pitch Wars is all about, after all. Revision Warriors!

Many authors dislike revisions, but I love the process. And I’ll emphasize that last word: process. So, in order to help inspire everyones’ Revision Warrior Mojo, I thought I’d address some myths about revision.

MYTH 1: The most important part of writing is the drafting process.
A couple years ago, I responded to a poll that asked what authors preferred: drafting or revising. I replied that I liked drafting better, and I meant it, but that was before I wrapped my brain around revisions and the magic that happens during the process. The best parts of my books arise during revisions. I’m a plotter, so I have a strong concept before I start, but revision is where I really see my work for the first time. For that reason, I visualize character and theme in a whole new light. Things emerge that I was too close to see during drafting. Each pass allows me to think about a different aspect of my MS.

​Everyone who reads my blog knows I love creative reality TV. So, this time, I’ll draw from cake decorating shows (which I can’t watch too often because, OMG, cake cravings are evil!). You know how they get the cake to a certain point, and it looks really good? The shape is there, the fondant is in place, some detail work has been done. It looks like it’s ready to hand over to the customer. Then the chefs take that foundation and go to town, turning the creation into something truly breathtaking. That’s how I think of revision.

A first draft a cake with the layer of fondant but no detail work. The shape is there and the base color, maybe some embellishment, but that’s nothing compared to what it will be when we’re done.

MYTH 4: Revision=singular.
I usually use the plural because, for me, it’s a multi-step process. I do a pass for big stuff—plot holes, inconsistencies, and scenes I forgot to show. Then there are character passes. Passes for theme, etc. Not to mention the fact that as we really immerse ourselves in revision, we sometimes get the best ideas ever—maybe inspired by something our CP said or from our very own heads. 

Now, this is the part you may not want to hear, but these shiny new ideas often require us to go back and do a major overhaul to our books. But don’t panic, because it’s totally worth it.

My debut novel, TEN PAST CLOSING, is a great example of this latter point. When I was accepted into Pitch2Publication in 2016, my mentor pointed out that some of my chapters weren’t working. Initially, I had many POVs (and I love multi-POV books, don’t get me wrong), but she felt they diluted the story of my two MCs too much. Interestingly, I knew there was a problem with the book; the romance between my MCs wasn’t working. Her input helped me see that I could make better use of that word-count real estate and write in scenes that supported the chemistry between my MCs. This was an exciting revelation for me, because the romance was literally one of my magic cookies. Though it meant swallowing some hard feedback and a commitment to a ton of work, I know that she gave me the input I needed to bring out the best in my book.

MYTH 5: Revision is about finding what isn’t working.
Revision is partly about finding what isn’t working, but it’s also about finding the magic, keeping an open mind and letting the insights wash over you. Remember that beautiful cake that needs all the final detail?

Some people really stress over getting their first draft just right, but I don’t. Though there are stories about authors who plotted so thoroughly they drafted their book in a finished form, this is something that maybe .1% of authors can do. But we don’t need to. (That sounds like an awful way to write a book. I mean, let’s talk about pressure. Right? To aim for perfection right off the bat…) I love knowing I’ll have plenty of shots making my book everything I want it to be. It prevents me from getting too hung up on something that’s not working right at this very minute. I’ll have another chance to nail it, and I trust that the right idea will come to me as I continue to work the process. 

Trust the process. 

It may be messy, but it always gets me there. Even if I’m not having any particular challenges with an MS, I know I’ll be doing a lot of rewrites because I always come up with exciting new ideas once I dig into revisions. Even if I think I’ve just written the best book of all time, and I can’t imagine changing a thing, it happens. Every time. Heck, in my most recently-revised book, I did 3.5 major revisions. So, I start each draft with a mindset of acceptance toward all the extra work I’m going to do, and I don’t sweat it when that work arrives.

MYTH 6: I need to figure out the whole thing myself.
I had the utmost pleasure of hearing my editor, Alison Weiss of Sky Pony Press, speak at an SCBWI Metro NY workshop this past winter about the beauty of the collaborative relationship. She said that when she’s choosing projects, she specifically looks for ones where she can make a contribution. I love that idea. The incorporation of outside input is an inherent part of the process. It’s supposed to happen. Our editors aren’t cursing the authors whose books need their expert feedback; they want to share in this with us. Once I heard that, I went from being excited to work with her to wanting to jump up and down in the middle of the workshop audience. (I didn’t, though. Dignity remains intact.) And the same thing goes for input from critique partners or workshop leaders or whoever helps you. We need that fresh set of eyes, and it’s fine that they raised questions we never thought of. That’s the whole point; they’re going to see things we didn’t. 

Getting feedback and jumping into revisions is challenging, but it is also the most exciting part of the process. It’s where everything can literally change. It’s where the magic happens. So, whether you’re undertaking the process as part of a competition like Pitch Wars or in response to input from an agent you met at a conference, or a CP, remember: The fact that they came up with stuff you hadn’t thought of doesn’t mean you didn’t do it right the first time. This is a process. It will take several passes to get you there, but that’s just fine. That’s the way it goes. We don’t need to nail it the first time, and we don’t need to do it alone. We shouldn’t go it alone. 

By this time next month, I’ll be elbow deep in MG submissions in Pitch Wars, and I can’t wait.

Until then, remember: You can do it! You can write!

Hello, Wonderful Writers! Not too long ago, someone in the Electric 18’s group shared a video by Brene´ Brown, Ph.D. I majorly LOVE this woman’s work. In case you’re not familiar with her, she’s a researcher who focuses on studying shame and vulnerability. If you haven’t read her books, I really recommend them all. She talks about how being vulnerable is one of the most courageous things we can do, that vulnerability comes with great rewards, “because vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, trust, empathy, creativity, and innovation.”
 
That’s right.
 
What she’s discovered through her research is that without vulnerability, we cannot create. If we’re going to make art, or put ourselves in the “arena,” as Teddy Roosevelt called it, then there is “one guarantee. You will get your ass kicked. If courage is a value you hold, this is a consequence. You can’t avoid it.” And who does this ass-kicking she speaks of? The critics. There are many kinds of critics (and I highly recommend you hear her talk or read her books for the full discussion), but today I want to focus on one—the worst critic.

The worst critic, she tells us, is ourselves.
 
I’ve always loved doing art. Drawing, painting, crafts. You name it. Back in my teen years, I did a lot of sketching. There’s nothing like a perfectly-sharpened pencil and a blank sheet of paper. There’s nothing, alright—nothing scarier. I’d sit there, thinking about what I wanted to draw, the tip of my pencil hovering over the page, and I’d be stuck. What if my drawing was a ginormous failure? What if the image I had in my head didn’t match up with what I achieved on the page? What if my subject was sucky or corny or boring? And of course, even though there was no risk of this happening—like ever, because I was never taking my sketch pad out of the safety of my house—but what if someone saw this sucky, corny, boring hot mess of a drawing? In my head, even if I locked up my pad in a steel safe, I could catastrophize until I ended up at school with the sheet of paper somehow magically glued to my butt, unbeknownst to me, out in the world for all to see.

Yeah. It gets scary in there sometimes.

So, what did I do in response to these “gremlins?” I armored-up. I still put pencil to page, but I didn’t draw my own creations. I copied photos or book covers. Someone else already decided those pictures were worth making, so I played it safe and copied them. Sure, I was practicing my skill, and I got better at drawing, but I wasn’t creating. I wasn’t making art. Thinking back now, it would have been better if I had made a terrible version of the awesomeness in my head, even if the outcome was cringe-worthy. Better because it would have been mine. I would have made art.
 
Now, I’m creating a new kind of art with my stories, and I can’t help but wonder if this is the same process that causes us to get stuck. That causes us to stall partway through a work in progress. Are we so afraid of making a sucky, corny, boring hot mess of a book that we can’t create? Is our fear of vulnerability causing us to armor-up so securely that all we do is cut off the natural flow of our wondrous imagination? And all this even before a single soul has laid eyes upon what we’ve written—all except for ourselves. The worst gremlin of them all.