Get your ‘ish’ together or get a real job.
I am tired. I am tired of writing. No. In actuality, I am tired of writing only to have who I perceive to be talentless, little “Twilight” knockoffs writing a book of useless drivel and fan fiction, awarded with a publishing contract. Let’s be fair. We read. Romance, paranormal, sci-fi, mystery, whatever…but we read. Whatever our reasons, we still do. And while most of the time, the works are ones we enjoy; we very rarely want to read the same book…again and again and again and again. Unless it extraordinary. Exceptionally extraordinary. But we are in society where “talent” is a measure of how many followers or book sales you have, regardless of the structure, plot, hell, even the grammar and spelling in your book. I am not the best when it comes to grammar. I struggle. My mom has to proof my rough drafts, because that part of my education is sorely lacking, but I try to put the best product I can out there.
So, that being said, I am tired. It’s an uphill battle. A raging battle, one that I may not return from, because I am so tired. But all is not lost. As an avid fan of “The Doctor,” (before David Tennant), I am always empowered at the last moment when all seems darkest. So, in this darkest of moments, the calm before the storm, the moment before the last star in the galaxy is snuffed out and I remain the lone person in the Universe, I give in. Notice, I did not say I give up. Give in as I realized that I don’t have to quit. So what if I am not getting the sales I used to or want? So what if I have four unpublished manuscripts sitting on my desktop? And so what if I just can’t get past this little, well, large, massive, yawning hole of a writer’s block and finish the sequel my readers are yearning for?
It’s there, in me, waiting…waiting for me to care, to not be so tired, to not give up—so I give in. To the urge to write, to the urge to do what I want to do in life. I was never the little girl dreaming of being a teacher. I wanted to write. But my very practical patriarchal upbringing set me on a different path. I teach because I am good at it and I want to inspire the youth to seek their own fortunes. I write because I don’t know who I would be if I didn’t. The only time I have ever experienced true love is when I write the last word to a novel. And begin with the first word of another.
So I write. And read, and laugh, and cry, and bitch, and moan, and bitch some more. Because that’s what you have to do in this business of writing. Read what you write, see what’s out there. You don’t want to be that knockoff bitch…but that’s a story for another time. It burns me to see how inundated the market is with self-published books. Books that with a bit of execution and style would be amazing, but alas poor Ulrich (or whatever his name is, was), the overall product is sorely lacking. I don’t consider myself to be the best paranormal writer out there. Just like my photography (when I try my hand at it), the way it looks in my mind is never the way the photo eventually turns out. Similarly, the countless plots, and characters, and settings in my head, never seem to pan out just the way I imagined. Sometimes, they’re better, other times—well, I just scrap the book.
The Blue Moon Trilogy was never meant to be—a trilogy that is. It was supposed to end with Layla as a short story. But my imagination got the best of me and well, the end result was a three-book series (and an introductory prologue) which received rave reviews. And it was all because I gave in—to that little voice, that overwhelming urge, that undeniable yearning, to write.
So, whenever the day seems the darkest, or you can’t get your brain in gear to write the words you had been holding onto all night, or even if the kids are driving you mad…don’t forget to give in…and write.
New cover for Tala (Book one in the Blue Moon Trilogy). Look for book two, Maikoda, coming this December!
Vampires, Werewolves and Demons. Oh My! 