Hannah R. Goodman's Blog, page 12

To Market, To Market

Confession: I spent nearly $12,000 to market my debut, Survival Colony 9.

Don’t believe me? Here are my numbers:

Publicist retainer: $5800

Publicist expenses: $225

Website hosting: $60

Website design: $850

Swag design: $100

Swag printing: $280

T-shirts: $120

Launch party game: $70

Launch party cake: $170

Curriculum guide: $500

Giveaway items: $600

Mailing supplies: $200

Postage: $400

Professional dues: $180

Conference fees: $250

Travel: $300

Miscellaneous: $1545

Total: $11,650

Why did I do it? Peer pressure, I guess. Everyone told me that if I wanted my book to do well, I had to spend tons of money (and time; I’ll get to that momentarily) promoting it. Even though Survival Colony 9 was coming out from a major publisher, I was told that these days, authors had to bear the brunt of marketing costs. I figured if everyone else was doing it and I didn’t, then my poor little book baby would be doomed to a life of miserable failure. So like many an anxious parent who pays for pricey private schools and SAT prep courses so Junior can go to Harvard, I dumped much of my advance (after taxes) on selling my wares.

The result?

Survival Colony 9 sold neither better nor worse than many a debut. It turns one year old today; it’s out in paper; the sequel, Scavenger of Souls, will appear next summer. To my mind, that’s success.

But if you ask me whether any of the dollars I poured into marketing contributed to sales, I can’t tell you. There’s really no way to connect the dots, to determine whether marketing scheme X translated into units sold Y. I wish I had a time machine so I could test whether the book would have done any worse (or better) with zero marketing on my end.

But money is one thing. Time is another—and to me, as to many a writer, it’s an even more precious commodity than dollars and cents. Like most authors, writing isn’t my only gig; I have a full-time job, plus a full-time wife and children. Writing books, much less marketing them, can’t be allowed to take over my life. Yet that’s exactly what happened in the six months surrounding my debut: I can’t even begin to enumerate the hours I spent blogging, tweeting, emailing, driving, speaking, and what-notting in the name of making contacts, creating my “author brand,” and selling myself and my book. All I know is, I really wish I had that time back. I could have been writing instead. Or, better yet, living.

So what have I learned?

Only this: like everything else in writing, the decision whether (and how much) to market your books is a personal one. Just as there are no hard-and-fast rules about how to structure your story or shape your characters or place one word versus another on the page, there is no one-size-fits-all approach to marketing the products of your imagination. If you have money and time to spare, use it as you please. If you love tweeting or blogging or speaking at schools, go ahead and do it. The harsh reality is that of the thousands of books published each year, most will sell modestly at best no matter what the writer does. Leaving aside books published by big-name authors, the few books that hit it big will not necessarily be the few that were promoted the most. In fact, those few will likely be a surprise to everyone, including the marketing experts in the publishing industry.

So think things through before throwing yourself body, soul, and pocketbook into the game. Be realistic; invest your time and money wisely; avoid scams (buying Twitter followers, etc.); don’t believe anyone who says s/he has a sure-fire way to become a top seller; don’t attempt activities in which you have no interest or confidence. Be yourself.

And keep writing. That’s the only thing you can control.

Don’t Call Me Disingenuous

The phone call came late in the morning, or maybe early afternoon. I’m not sure anymore. Time has softened the sharp edges of my memory. I won’t go into detail or burden you with emotional baggage that isn’t yours to take. A few years back someone important to my life decided to end his. They say you’re never the same after something like that.

They’re right.

Days and months passed. The grief lost its weight but never disappeared. I couldn’t look in the mirror without thinking I’d failed. My morning commutes were full of tears. Things you’d never expect would set me off. A song, a billboard, a thought. Grief is hard. Just when you think you’ve found a way to overcome, it’s back, as immense and devastating as before. This particular “event” came after a long line of disappointments. I use the term “disappointments” loosely. Imagine trying to rebuild your house after a bomb exploded inside of it. Yeah, this shard will make a great bed. Bring all the shards. Make sure the pointy sides are up. That’s what I mean by disappointments. That’s life, it knocks you down and it kicks the shit out of you. It doesn’t let up. It doesn’t let you catch your breath, it just kicks and kicks and kicks.

I’m getting to the writing part, I promise.

Two years before the “event” I became a writer. It wasn’t so much the need for release, I found inspiration through other writers. And I had this manuscript…it featured an “event” strikingly similar to my real life.

I remember sitting at my keyboard absolutely terrified of the rewrite. I knew it was a story I needed to tell but suddenly the manuscript was personal in a way I’d never imagined. I made several attempts, writing up to the “event” before chickening out and shutting it down. There must be five or six partials floating in my hard drive. I just couldn’t push through my own emotions to make it happen. This one scene determined everything. I had an obligation to make it perfect. Like it would somehow bring him back if I got it right. This thought left me frozen with terror. How could I do it right when I’d failed the first time—the time when it truly mattered?

There wasn’t a catalyst or some burst of courage that finally forced me to sit down and write. It happened on an ordinary day, as these things do. I remember sobbing as the words emerged and the scene took shape. It came out in the way of grief—disjointed, frantic, breathless.

Now, I won’t say it’s perfect, but that scene is something I’m proud of. There are all kinds of courage, and having the courage to write what terrifies you is something I admire. People always ask me when I knew I was a writer—that moment defined it for me. If you aren’t bleeding for your work, you might be doing it wrong.

I released a book a few weeks ago, one that I’ve worked on for over six years. When I say I’m residing in this awkward place of bursting euphoria of debilitating dread, you know what I mean. I’m facing that same fear again, the freezing terror that any artist feels when they release their work in to the world. What if people think I’m a fraud? I can’t exactly preface my book with a note that says I promise I know what I’m talking about. The emotions found in these pages? They’re real. They come from a place of horrible knowing.

My part of the story is done. I climbed the mountain and left my flag in the dirt. It’s time to let go and breathe for half a second before I return to that dark place of writing that’s all too true.

Say what you want about Stepping Stones, it is art, after all. Just don’t call me disingenuous.

KACEY VANDERKARR has a penchant for fantasy and frequently listens to the voices in her head—most of whom are teenagers. Her favorite place to write is an old salon chair in her kitchen, with coffee in one hand and adoring cats sprawled across her arms. She prefers her music loud and her skeptics quiet. When she’s not writing, Kacey coaches winterguard, works as a sonographer, and hangs out with other weirdos like her at the Flint Area Writer’s club. In addition to her novels, The Reflection Pond Series, Antithesis, and The Stone Series, Kacey’s short fiction is featured in Sucker Literary Vol III, Ember: A Journal of Luminous Things, and Out of the Green: Tales from Fairyland.

Blog * Twitter * Facebook * Goodreads

Self-Loathing And Two Spoonfuls Of Nutella / @StephanieKeyes

You know the moment. The one where a great friend of yours gets an incredible publishing deal. Their book is going to be made into a movie starring some actor so hot you could fry an egg on his chest. They have everything they’ve ever wanted.

Ugh.

Courtesy of eliantART and Deviant Art Creative Commons- Licensed Under Creative Commons Attribution License

For me, I used to greet those days with a healthy dose of self-loathing: “I’m just not a good enough writer.” I’d avoid my current manuscript in favor of an unnatural relationship with the Nutella jar. Okay, I’ll admit I only allowed myself two (even) spoonfuls of the stuff, but still. Every last bit of hazlenutty goodness symbolized my own failure and not a “special treat” as my son calls my vice.

It didn’t matter how much wonderful feedback I received on my writing… I’d fallen into the trap of playing the comparison game. That’s a dark hole most writers are intimately familiar with. The pattern continued until there were these ugly fringes of bitterness that wove themselves into the border of my personality, threatening to take over. I hated them.

And then one day I stopped and looked in the mirror and said: “No more.” I meant it, but I didn’t believe it.

That day an email from my editor came. It included the words “so well-written” and “perfect for the market.” Normally, this would be the kind of thing I dismissed with a “they don’t really mean it.” Not that day. I went back to the mirror, stared into my own eyes, and said four words that would change how I handled rejection.

“I’m a good writer.”

Courtesy Pixabay Open Source Images

For a moment, nothing happened. Obviously, the heavens weren’t going to open up and rain down confetti. Still, I said it again: “I’m a good writer.” I repeated the phrase. I kept speaking the words out loud until I smiled. A real smile. A genuine smile.

Because that was it, the root of my problem. It wasn’t that I was jealous of anyone’s success. Not at all. It was the opposite. Instead, some distant part of me believed that because I hadn’t experienced the same triumphs, it meant I couldn’t write. That someone would come along, kick me out, and say: “You don’t belong.”

Funny thing, self-loathing is. It can make you internalize anything if you let it. It can even take hold, the way the ivy in my backyard has, until it’s nearly impossible to kill.

But it was not that day. “I’m a good writer.” I spoke the words until I believed them.

There’s a psychological exercise where a person holds his or her arms out to their side and repeats the phrase: “I’m a good person.” A second person then tries to press down the speaker’s arms. Usually, the second person can’t press the speaker’s arms down–at least without a fight.

In that same exercise, however, if the speaker says, “I’m a bad person” their arms can usually be pushed down immediately without a resistance.

That’s the power of the Human Psyche. When we say we’re a bad person or a bad writer in this instance, we actually start to believe it. That core belief drives everything. How we write, how we interact with others in-person and on social media… It messes with our lives.

Our lives are too precious to waste on a negative outlook.

Since that day in front of the mirror, I’ve had friends get fabulous book deals. I’ve continued to feel genuinely happy for them. I do not have a Hollywood-hot actor portraying one of my characters in this year’s blockbuster. Still, when I pass the mirror, I glance at it, and smile. I don’t even need to say the words now. It was never about them anyway.

I just needed to learn how to find my voice. And believe in me.

Courtesy Pixabay Creative Commons Open Source License

 

Oh, and I still eat Nutella–let’s be honest. But now it’s my go-to for special occasions, not self-doubt.

Stephanie Keyes grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She’s the author of the YA Fantasy series, The Star Child, which currently includes The Star Child, After Faerie, The Fallen Stars, The Star Catcher, and The Last Protector, all from by Inkspell Publishing. She will also release the forthcoming novellas The Boy In The Trees (November 2015) and A Faerie Wedding: A Star Child Companion Novella #4.5 (February 2016).

The Star Catcher took first place in the 2014 Dante Rossetti Young Adult novel competition (Mythological Category). The Fallen Stars was a 2013 semi-finalist in the Kindle Book Awards. The Star Child has topped the Amazon best-seller list several times since its 2012 release. She is an active member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI).

Website | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

Waiting For Godot

After working mainly from my home office for the last almost 12 years, I now work at an office two days a week, and not only is it to help with my clinical hours towards my license to become a psychotherapist, but it also has been a nice respite from my life as a writer. Those of you who have read previous posts know that I’ve been going through a major shift/change/artistic crisis of sorts, and so this change of scenery is quite welcome and needed for me. I work there to replace all the endless hours of staring at my screen waiting for inspiration, waiting for my agent to tell me “sold!”, waiting for a contest to say “Yes!”, waiting for goddam Godot!

But in my Gemini, dual-nature, I shed my writer-self to be my therapist-self with some ambivalence. Part of me wants to scream to the entire building of three offices of co-workers, “Dammit! I write and I’m pretty good and you should buy my books for yourself, your friends, your family, hell, anyone you know!”

And so, I did confess to someone in the office that I am, in fact, a writer and then a little later, when asked the routinely-asked question all writers get from non-writers, have you been published? I responded with, yes, I do, in fact, have things published. Then, upon an office wide Google search, I was discovered, found out—I have a secret, double-life as published, YA author.

When one of my colleagues asked where he could buy a copy of my books, at first I insisted that he shouldn’t…then I confessed that Amazon carries all of them…then, because I felt worried (insecure) that if he bought them and hated them, he’d resent the money he’d spent, I gave him all three books before he could hit the buy button on Amazon.

So the following day, after I gave all three of my books (that have been published) to the particular colleague, who is a gentleman older than my father and who I respect very much as a doctor and therapist, I felt that stomach-dropping sensation one gets when getting a case of the Oh-Nos.

As I handed them over, I told my pounding heart to chill, but it was too late; the assault began.

He’s going to hate them.

He’s going to think I’m a terrible writer.

He’s reading them to be nice.

This is a terrible idea.

This is a disaster.

He’s are going to think, thank God she’s going into psychotherapy because this stuff sucks.

In the days that followed, the older gentleman colleague showered me with compliments. “Great writing! Great metaphors! Great stuff! I can picture teachers reading this with their students!”

Then one day he came in and announced that he had finished the book and he wondered what I thought of the idea that maybe my book was a little dated. You know, because coming out isn’t a big deal any more, right? He went on about this, but I pretty much went somewhere else, not physically, but mentally; I continued to stand there, leaning against the cabinet that contained all of our CBT worksheets and therapy note sheets while my spirit went somewhere else, somewhere vague and cloudy. Somewhere dark.

When I returned to my body, he was going on about “Cynical? Is that the word? Cynical. Your voice in the book is very cynical…”

I left again, feeling stripped of any label that would be associated with writer, author, hell, human.

When I returned again, he was still going on, this time about the portrayal of the shrink, Josephine, in the story, “And that Josephine! She was one-dimensional. I mean everything she said was so trite…”

I don’t remember what I said back, but whatever it was, it wasn’t the truth of what I was feeling or thinking. The truth was this:

Do you have any idea how hard it is to not only write a book, but also to then share it with the world?

Eventually I went back to my office, but before I did, he reeled in another colleague, and repeated every single piece of feedback to her, finishing with an ironic, “You really should read this book.”

And she said some things back, most of which bounced off my somewhat numb self. One thing stuck: “Oh no. Coming out is definitely still a big deal.” Then she threw empathetic eyes at me, and I smiled back…with great effort.

That was not even a week ago and with each passing day, his words echo and echo through my brain, his words touch a deeper part of my mind where things can accumulate unless I properly take them out, look at them, and accept them for what they are and what they are not.

After falling into and coming out of the deepest depression of my life last year, I know that when the darkness comes, it’s a sign that something within me is off. Something within me is looking at the situation, which has triggered the darkness, with some distortion, but that there is also some value in what I am feeling.

When I take step back and use my logic mind, I can see that my colleague wasn’t trying to hurt me, wasn’t intending to send me into a deep dark depression. And, yes the critique wasn’t the most positive about my work…but he did say I was a good writer and he was enthusiastic about the books, enough to share them with people. Besides, I’ve been critiqued before, had worse things said about my writing, so why did his words sting so badly?

Because the words pricked at the insecurity within me about these particular books. I know that I wrote them a long time ago. I know the stories aren’t the most profound or deep or even the best that I can do now. And I’m frustrated that the work I know is that is better, deeper, stronger is stuck in my computer, not shared with the world.

My frustration isn’t with my dear colleague but with the situation—with the reality that I’m still waiting for Godot.

In the meantime, check out the books my colleague hated enjoyed:

My Sister’s Wedding

My Summer Vacation

Fear of Falling

Let’s Talk About Sex (in YA)

“I’ll never write young adult fiction because you can’t have sex in it.”

I was at a cocktail party when I heard this. The speaker was an academic enrolled the MFA program at the nearby university. I was invited because I’d befriended his wife and our kids went to the same school. But when he found out that I was also a writer, of young adult fiction, he made that statement.

Perhaps you’ve been in a similar situation, where someone, oftentimes another writer, makes blanket statements about YA without really knowing what they’re talking about or taking the time to ask you, the expert. My response?

He actually walked away before I could respond, which is probably why I felt the need to write a piece about sex in YA.

So here’s the truth: teens are having sex. According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, the likelihood of sex increases with each school grade level, from 32 percent in ninth grade to 62 percent in 12th grade. And even for those who are not having sex, they likely have friends who are. They hear stories about it in the hallways, they see hyper-sexualized pictures online and in the media, they watch movies and play video games. In other words, sex is out there.

If we take a moment to think about our own upbringing and unpack the things we were told about sex, it’s often a variation of one of these themes:

“Wait until you’re married.”

“Sex is dirty.”

“Girls who have sex are sluts.”

“It’s your job to say, no.”

“Be safe or you’ll catch a disease.”

“Getting pregnant will ruin your life.”

Very rarely are young people told that sex is a normal, healthy activity that they might even enjoy. Instead, they’re often scared into thinking something will terrible will happen if they engage in sex. Meanwhile, their hormones are at full-throttle, making it nearly impossible, biologically speaking, to say, no.

Where does YA fiction fit in?

YA books allow the reader to experience another teen’s life in a safe environment. Through the story, they learn another teen’s thoughts, their hopes and dreams, and their fears. They see the teen interacting with their family and friends, with teachers, crushes and other members of society. Because of this, YA fiction is the perfect place to explore topics like sex. And there are many excellent YA books that do. With that in mind, here are a few tips for writing sex in YA:

Be real. Most early sexual encounters aren’t the stuff of Harlequin romances. Often they’re awkward, bumbling, nerve-wracking affairs. There is usually some anxiety involved in having sex with someone for the first time, even if you’ve had sex before. There are also some logistics involved, like condoms, that should be part of your narrative. Or, if your characters are engaging in unsafe sex, the feelings and motivations involved in that decision should be explored. Remember there are actual teens reading your book and they have a lot of questions.

Is the sex necessary? Does it add to your character’s development? Is it integral to the plot? Does it change the course of the story? Sex shouldn’t be treated like a token act that’s trotted out to keep the story interesting. It should enhance the story and advance the plot.

Sex can be good and it can be bad, but if it’s violent or non-consensual, you need to deal with it. This one seems obvious, but I’ve come across more than a few books where a rape or attempted rape scene occurs and the plot and characters continue on as if it never happened. Don’t include sexual assault unless you’re prepared to fully explore it. If your story is about sexual assault, treat it with sensitivity and make sure you know what you’re talking about.

Be prepared for push back. There may be editors who want the sex toned down or cut altogether. They may want you to pull a TWILIGHT where your characters disappear into the darkness to do mystical things that may or may not be sex. I’m not a fan of the allusion of sex because I think it feeds misconceptions. But editors know that it’s a lot tougher to sell a story to parents and librarians when there is sex involved, so be prepared to defend your artistic license and deal with the fallout.

Remember it’s all about relationships. There is great opportunity for tension and conflict around sex. Should we do it? Am I ready? Does he want to also? Will having sex change our relationship? Will it bring us closer together? Break us apart? Will he treat me differently after? Will I feel different? What will my friends think? My parents? Whether it’s the best thing to ever happen, or if it’s a mistake, don’t miss the opportunity to develop character and increase the tension in your story.

Now, for some required reading. Listed below are examples of books that cover a wide range of sexual experience. Each of them are great examples of the topic done well.

IF I STAY by Gayle Forman

FOREVER by Judy Blume

ON THE JELLICOE ROAD by Melina Marchetta

PERFECT CHEMISTRY by Simone Elkeles

SPEAK by Laurie Halse Anderson

STORY OF A GIRL by Sara Zarr

THE DUFF by Kody Keplinger

THE FAULT IN OUR STARS by John Green

Tell me your thoughts on sex in YA. Have you ever gone all the way? Any tips you’d like to share with the rest of us? Don’t be shy…

Laura Lascarso’s debut novel COUNTING BACKWARDS, which deals with mental illness, won the 2012 Florida Book Award gold medal for Young Adult Literature. Her e-novella series RACING HEARTS tells the story of two star-crossed lovers thrust into the world of competitive car racing. Follow her on Twitter @lauralascarso and enter here to win a free copy of Racing Hearts 1.

When Success Doesn’t Look Like Your Writing Dream

When Success Doesn’t Look Like Your Writing Dream

by Kimberly Mitchell/@KSMitch17

2014 was a tough year for me as a writer. I had a manuscript I had a lot of confidence in and delivered it to my agent early in the year. She loved it and immediately sent it out. I felt like I was walking around with my fingers crossed for months, waiting for an offer. And waiting. And waiting. And then rejections and more waiting.

Writers know we’ll encounter rejection. We know it’s all part of the process of honing our craft, paying our dues on that hard road to publication. We also know that the knowing doesn’t make rejection easier. I felt my desire to write slipping away. The current manuscript I was working on languished in murky middle ground and the ending lacked focus.

Come to think of it, I felt on murky middle ground and lacking in focus.

Towards the end of 2014, I had lunch with a good friend, who also happens to be a local social media influencer. She encouraged me to get more involved in the local writing community, especially with a group called Arkansas Women Bloggers. She didn’t tell me to stop focusing on writing for children; she simply asked me to lift my head a little from the narrow race I’d been running and have a look around.

I decided she was right. I needed a change, or I was in peril of not writing at all. When I set my goals for 2015, they looked quite different from the previous year. Typically, my yearly goals look like this:

1) Outline X novel

2) Finish revising Y novel

3) Come up with storyline for Z.

If I feel ambitious, I might add, read a book on writing.

This year, in addition to working on my novel, I would commit to maintaining my blog by posting at least once a week. This doesn’t sound like much, but if you’ve ever run a blog, you know it’s hard to maintain momentum. I also committed to look for other blogs where I could guest post, and local blogs or magazines I could pitch articles to. I even set a day and time – every Monday afternoon would be dedicated to these ventures.

Two-thirds of the way through the year, I’m proud to say I’ve far exceeded my own expectations. I’ve had the privilege of guest posting for Latin@s in Kidlit, All the Way YA, and Pine Manor College. I’ve also blogged professionally for a few local companies and gotten paid for those posts.

What? You mean writers can actually make money writing and blogging?

I’m currently pitching a few more ideas to my network of bloggers and letting a few others simmer. In one way, I’m more excited about writing than I’ve ever been. My personal blog isn’t going to break any hit records, but I’ve been more consistent and the stats back that up. This week I even signed a contract with an awesome local non-profit to be a blogging ambassador for them for the next year. A contact I made, incidentally, by attending a local chamber meet and greet. It turns out, networking does work.

It hasn’t all been smooth sailing, though. That manuscript I was going to revise in the first few months of 2015? I’m still slogging through it. That first draft of the new middle grade story I was going to knock out this summer? I’m on page 20.

I still only have 24 hours in my day, and let’s be real, 8 of those are for sleeping. I teach, partner a marriage, stay involved with friends and family. Something has to give, and for now, it’s the amount of time I spend on my middle grade novels – my first love, the reason I always wanted to be a writer.

It’s an uneasy balance, but finding another writing outlet that has drawn me into a supportive community locally and brought in a little extra income is hard to beat.

So for the next four months, I’ll continue to walk out my goals for 2015, starting at the end of this month by attending the Arkansas Women Bloggers Conference for the first time. I’ll pursue blogging personally and professionally, and I’ll work on my own stories, knowing that for a season, my time with my children’s novels will diminish a little.

I’m not going to lie. A little success feels good, even if it’s not the success I expected or hoped for.

And my dream of being a published children’s author? That dream lives on for another day.

Kimberly Mitchell is pursuing writing and life in Northwest Arkansas. When she’s not writing and blogging, or teaching preschool fitness, she’s cheering on the Razorbacks, playing soccer, and scheming ways to travel the world. Follow her on Twitter @KSMitch17 and check out her blog for updates on all of the above.

#Wattpad #ShortStories #YALit #AmWriting

#Wattpad #ShortStories #YALit #AmWriting #WritersHelpingWriters Check out chapter 1 of MY BIG FAT BROKEN HEART http://ow.ly/QUaJ2

#Wattpad #ShortStories #YALit #AmWriting

#Wattpad #ShortStories #YALit #AmWriting #WritersHelpingWriters Check out chapter 1 of my piece MY BIG FAT BROKEN HEART http://ow.ly/QUang

ow.ly/QR9pJ The Act of Starting Again @T

ow.ly/QR9pJ The Act of Starting Again @TheRosieDavid “real writers don’t try — they do.” Or do they? #amwriting #writerslife

Starting Again (Again)

It’s been a while since I’ve typed THE END on a first draft. I’ve written, but I haven’t finished any long-form piece of fiction in a few years, and that really, really bugs me.

I’ve tried. And in typing that, I already have this voice inside my head telling me that real writers don’t try — they do.

Real writers nut through the hard times and just finish the damn thing. Maybe move on from there and smoke a celebratory cigar.

I guess I used to be a “real” writer (minus the cigar). I prided myself on my knack at churning out a quick draft. Three months (the length of a season, as Stephen King advised) and I’d have my very own shitty first draft, ready for massive edits.

But these days, well… I’ve started (and quitted) more projects than I’ve finished.

And here I am, starting another WIP. There are all the usual jitters, but also a mean little voice reminding me of all the manuscripts I’ve started, but left half-done. All the stories that I let run out of steam and turn into unfinished failures.

I worry a lot — that I won’t get it right, that I’ll get lost in the jumble of words and not be able to hack my way out. I worry that this novel will end up like the others: just another abandoned Scrivener file, untouched and unloved and abandoned because I just couldn’t stick it out.

So there’s that.

But hey, there’s also this: I have today. I have this story, and it’s one that actually caters to things that I feel natural writing about. The others were stretches for me, and while I think it’s good to flex the muscles a bit, there’s something to be said for a project that feels as natural and welcoming as sinking into a warm bath.

Maybe I’m fooling myself. Maybe I need to fool myself. Maybe that’s what it takes to finish anything at all — equal parts ass-in-chair time, inspiration, and self-delusion.

And for sure, I can control at least the first part of that equation.

 

 

Rosie David is a writer, artist, and book sniffer. When she’s not writing YA novels (most of which have kissing in them), she’s usually reading YA novels (most of which also have kissing in them). Lately, she lives in Indianapolis with her husband, two dogs, one cat, and the occasional goldfish. You can find her at @TheRosieDavid.