Category: Fiction

The End . . . is Really the Beginning

endandbeginningI’m doing the last bit of fiddling with Stepping Out before handing the manuscript off to the editor at Orca.  This book will be released as part of their Limelights Series. There’s always a sense of accomplishment at this stage of the game. And a feeling of completion too.

But, in fact, this particular end is the beginning of a process that goes on for many months.  From here, the next step is waiting for editorial feedback and tackling the revision notes. There are always revision notes, and there’s never any way to tell ahead of time how complex they’ll be.   I never sweat it. I happen to love revising (I usually revise at least once and often multiple times before sending a manuscript in), and I welcome feedback, so, for the most part, editorial revisions are a guaranteed good time. At this stage, the heavy lifting (fresh writing) is done; it’s a matter of fine tuning.

Once I’m finished with the editorial revisions, there’s generally a stretch of down time until I see page proofs and then get a glimpse of the cover. It’s always exciting to see what kind of visual the art department comes up with.

Some time after page proofs and the cover comes the actual release day . . . then the official book launch . . . followed by professional reviews . . . and the most important thing of all: reader feedback.

So as I type ‘the end’,  I can’t help thinking of my readers who, a year or two from now, will pick up Stepping Out and start at the beginning.

In my world, the end is the start of good things to come.

The Writing Top Ten List

top10tenAt the beginning of a writing career, we’re pumped, we’re dreaming big dreams, we think we know what to expect. Most of us hedge our bets by joining groups and organizations. We study the industry, we debate self-publishing versus traditional, we pour over Twitter feeds of writers we admire. We set writing goals and career plans.  We jump in with our eyes wide open. We are prepared.

And then we end up in the trenches wrestling muddy alligators and the rose colored glasses we didn’t even know we were wearing get smashed, leading to a particularly painful realization:  we didn’t know squat when we started out and we know only marginally more than squat now.

But this is what I know for sure:

1. Everything takes longer than you think it should. First drafts, first sales, editorial feedback, royalty cheques.

2.There’s never a perfect time to write a book. Unless you’re a hermit living on the side of a mountain (in which case you have other issues to deal with), there’s always something pulling at you – everything from minor inconveniences to major life events. It will always be this way. Always.

3. The muse is real and not as fickle as you think. She shows up when you put your butt in the chair to write. She takes off when you surf Twitter or CNN or get too involved in email. She may not always be at her best but none of us operate at 100% efficiency all the time. Cut her some slack but take a seat. Your presence feeds her.

4. Some days writing is about as easy as using a toothpick to sculpt a piece of art out of a chunk of cement. And doing it blindfolded. Writing is work. Work isn’t always fun.

5.  Meg Cabot said, “You aren’t a $100 bill. Not everybody will like you.”  Not everybody will love or like your book either, even if it’s well-crafted with loveable, relatable characters and a page-turning premise.   I don’t like cake. I don’t need to taste it to know and I hate it when people try to guilt me into eating a piece. Which leads to realization 5 a) If somebody doesn’t want to read my book, chances are they know best.

6. People your real world with a range of characters. I’m blessed with a number of writer friends who get this gig, but I also have friends who don’t write, can’t relate, and couldn’t care less about sell through figures, contract issues or option books. They care about me. And they care enough to help me stay grounded in the real world.  Which leads to this:

7. Breathe fresh air once in a while. I need to recharge away from my desk regularly, and I do it best outside when I have nothing more pressing to do than stare at the clouds and daydream or maybe dig in the garden. A trip away helps too, though that hasn’t been possible lately (see number two).

8. Control comes down to 26 letters. All I can control is how I arrange the letters on the page. That goes for my tweets, my Instagram or Facebook presence, and anything else I say on social media.  The rest of this gig is pretty much a crap shoot and out of my control.  Wishing it were different is a waste of energy.

9.The best promotion is a good book. And as Bob Mayer added, “Better promotion is more good books. Everything else is secondary.”

10. Finally – reading is never a waste of time.  Without readers, we wouldn’t need writers.  And that would put me out of a job.

 

My February Reads

P1000911The snowdrops are up, my winter clematis is in bud, and the air carries hints of warm earth and flowers.  We’re walking around in hoodies enjoying the nearly spring-like conditions. Things could change – we’ve had snow flurries in February the last couple of years – but the temperatures are unseasonably mild, the hummingbirds are flitting from the pear trees to the kiwi vines, and I’m dreaming about what I’ll plant in the garden in a few months.

But for now, though, I’m staying indoors where I’m focusing on work, family, and books.

Here’s what I’m reading this month:

On the Kindle: Man Enough: A Return to Salt Spring Island by EC Sheedy

At the Gym: The Late, Lamented Molly Marx by Sally Koslow

In the Office:  We Killed – The Rise of Women in American Comedy by Yael Kohen

Books read to date in 2015:  12

 

 

My November Reads

curtains-from-outside-at-nightOctober’s sunshine and clear skies have disappeared and the wind and clouds have arrived.  A bitter rain is slapping against my office window as I write this, and though it’s not quite four o’clock, it’s almost dark outside. So I’m drawing the curtains early today. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. I’m not exactly cocooning (I have too much work for that), but I am cutting back on my commitments, especially at night.  I’m using that time to catch up on some writing, and to read. Here’s what I’m dipping into right now:

At the gym:   Heroes Are My Weakness by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

On the Kindle: With Love & Light: A True Story about an Uncommon Gift by Jamie Butler

Beside the bed: Delancey: A Man, a Woman, a Restaurant, a Marriage by Molly Wizenberg

Books Read to Date in 2014:  63

 

Ready, Set, November

ready_set_goNovember is a month for abbreviations and productivity. At least in my world, it is.

There’s PiBoIdMo, which is short for Picture Book Idea Month. The idea is to come up with a picture book idea every day for the month of November.  There’s also NaNoWriMo, which is short for National Novel Writing Month. The concept is similar though the word count is longer – produce a 50,000 word rough draft of a novel in 30 days. That’s 1666 words a day. Every single day. Weekends included.  Unless you want to take weekends off. In that case, you’ll need to write about 2500 words a day for the next four weeks.

A lot of people sign up for these things. Some people do it every year. A few people I know do both NaNoWriMo and PiBoldMo.   Somewhere in there they find the time to go on social media and post about ideas generated or daily word counts.  And to congratulate or post encouragement to others too.

It’s all good. Really, it is. But, honestly, it makes me tired just thinking about it. And leaves me feeling vaguely guilty. I average 1000 – 1200 words a day four or five days a week. Weekends are for chores, for groceries, for meal planning and all that good stuff.  Even if I intend to write on weekends, I rarely do, though I’ll often find myself mulling a character, a plot twist, or an upcoming scene.

I’d like to change that. For one, I have a novel that’s almost done, and another one to start and finish by March 2015. I have a major feature due at the beginning of December too.  So this November, I’d like to up my productivity and boost my idea quotient. I’d like to clean out my in box and clean off the top of my desk. Hit the gym, stop eating wheat and do 100 push ups every day. Finish my Christmas shopping. And maybe finish the needlepoint that’s been sitting in the closet since 2008 too. In other words, I’d like to kill the month of November.

Just call me LeMeWriMa or Lean Mean Writing Machine.  Or, if you’d rather, go with the pros and check out these sites: http://taralazar.com/piboidmo/     and http://nanowrimo.org/

 

My October Reads

fall2013 007The squirrels are gone from the attic, the garden is put to bed, and the soup pot is already seeing action. In a few days we’ll set our clocks back an hour to standard time. Not everyone appreciates the fewer hours of daylight, but I don’t mind.  It’s a little lighter in the morning but darker earlier at night. That means more time to read!  What’s not to love about that?  My ‘to-be-read pile is higher than my fridge so I’m looking forward to sitting by the fire and losing myself in a good book.

Here’s what I’m reading this week:

On the Kindle:  Walking Home by Sonia Choquette

Beside the Bed: What I Love About You by Rachel Gibson

At the Gym: Beautiful Lies by Lisa Unger

 

Books read to date in 2014: 57

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Overheard This Week

                                    That’s the hard part over with.

140474989The next time I do a writing workshop, I might use this sentence as a story prompt.  The possibilities are endless. It could be said by an exhausted cyclist cresting the top of a particularly gruelling hill. Or a gardener who has finally dug out the ground for a new pond. Or perhaps a set of parents serving birthday cake at a child’s birthday party after the games and gifts are over with.

Of course, if it’s fiction and it’s the story kick off, the expected cake walk won’t happen.  The cyclist will meet a swarm of bees on her downhill glide. The gardener will learn ponds were recently banned by his townhouse strata council.  The parents will face a dilemma when one child isn’t picked up after the party ends.

In other words, things won’t go as planned.   Maybe that’s why overhearing that phrase made me smile.

It was a sunny summer afternoon.  I was walking in the park. Ahead of me were two twenty-something girls, clearly having a good time. They were accompanied by a photographer.

“That’s the hard part over with,” said the just-married bride to her bridesmaid.

“No kidding”, the bridesmaid responded. “It’s a cake walk from here.”

I managed not to laugh. I hope the rest of that bride’s day was a ganache-filled fantasy and all her wishes came true. Because happily ever after is rarely a cake walk.  In fact, it’s probably safe to say she’ll have some hard work ahead.

bride-and-groom-walking-in-a-park

Reading Preferences Showed Early

sue-barton-senior-nurseOver the last week, I’ve been writing material for a series of guest blogs that will upload to various sites throughout the month of September, coinciding with the release of The Art of Getting Stared At. (I’m grateful to the bloggers for hosting me and when I get blog dates, I’ll share them.)   A number of questions focused on the book itself but others were more general.  Several people wanted to know my favorite book as a child.

That was a tough question to answer.  I read early and voraciously, and my tastes changed as rapidly as I grew. I didn’t have just one favorite book. I had a series of favorites.  But as I gave the question some thought, it occurred to me that my natural inclinations were obvious early on.

For the most part, even as a kid I gravitated to two types of books:  contemporary stories that dealt with serious issues or over-the-top glamor romps. A close third was mysteries. I was a loyal Nancy Drew fan.

By the time I was 11, I’d fallen in love with a series of Sue Barton nurse books. She had red hair (how glamorous) and helped save lives (how meaningful).  Though it was toned down somewhat, there was gritty realism in those books.  There was also realism in With Love From Karen about a young girl with cerebral palsy, and in a novel called Mrs. Mike about a 16-year-old Boston girl who moves to the Canadian wilderness, falls in love with a Mountie and copes with extreme hardship. At the same time, I escaped with a series of books about Donna Parker who visited relatives in Hollywood, traveled overseas, and talked a lot about clothes.

The serious/light split continued into my teens as I went through an Ann Rand phase, took up with depressing Russian novelists (Anna Karenina was a favorite) and scared myself silly with Sybil.  At the same time, I devoured the rags to riches story of A Woman of Substance by Barbara Taylor Bradford, Once is Not Enough by Jacqueline Susann and any Sidney Sheldon book I could find.

Maybe that’s why when people ask me to name a favorite book or favorite author I’m as likely to say Jodi Picoult as I am Jennifer Crusie. Or maybe Jojo Moyes or Kristan Higgins. It depends on the day. It depends on my mood. It just . . .  well . . . depends.

And don’t ask me to name my favorite food either. That’s another impossibility. 

Rewards can be a Long Time Coming

DSC00518Years ago, a friend and I rescued dozens of plants from a city lot not far from where I live. The lot was being gutted in preparation for an apartment block. Over a period of weeks and with permission from the builders, we went in and dug up lilacs, hydrangeas, and reams of smaller things like California poppies and Shasta daisies. We also rescued a number of peony bushes. They were old and we weren’t sure they’d survive the move.  They did, though it took years to nurse them back to productivity.  But now, every spring, I’m rewarded with handfuls of blooms to bring inside.  Tangible evidence, as one friend said, of the reward of hard work.  Those peonies are also a reminder of my early gardening days, when I felt like anything was possible, slugs notwithstanding. Those days when the garden felt more like a blessing than a chore.

Coincidentally, I’ve spent the last few months revisiting and readying for publication an adult novel I wrote years ago.  Much of it was done when my daughter napped, and after I’d spent the morning writing magazine articles or assembling radio documentaries.  Back in the days when I felt like anything was possible, publishing climate notwithstanding.  Those days when the writing felt more like a reward instead of a responsibility.

At some point in the coming months I hope to have “What Lainey Sees” uploaded and for sale under my other writing name – Laura Tobias.  When it hits the Amazon shelf, it will be tangible evidence of the reward of hard work. And the pleasure of the journey itself.

ANDYRooney quoteveryone-wants-to-live-on-top-of-the-mountain-but-all-the-happiness-and-growth-occurs-while-youre-climbing-it-12

My June Reads

DSC00073The vegetable garden is planted and my chiropractor is several hundred dollars richer.  Between rain days and other commitments, I’d let the beds go a little too long this year. The weeds were tenacious, the soil still on the heavy side, and my back and hips didn’t appreciate it.  Needless to say, by the end of each day, I was ready for a hot bath, a cold drink and a good book. In fact, there were moments with the sweat rolling down my forehead that all I could think about was the book waiting for me inside.  It was a good reminder of the simple joy a book can bring.

Here’s what I’m reading these days:

On the Kindle:  The Misremembered Man by Christina McKenna

At the Gym: Unraveling Isobel by Eileen Cook

Beside the Bed: The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

Books read to date in 2014:  36