Insecure Writers Support Group Blog for January 8, 2020
[image error]Since New Year’s Day was the first Monday of the month, the blog’s a week later than usual this month, something that allowed me to get back on board.
I have been noticeably absent these past few months. My father died October 1, and it’s been difficult to pick up the many pieces of what I considered normalcy in my life. Losing Dad wasn’t the first loss I suffered last year. By the end of 2019, twelve people I called friends had joined him. Sometimes trying to find normal again is like trying to put toothpaste back into a tube. You can’t. You have to move on and try to find whatever can pass as a new normal for you. It’s a slow process, but one I’m working on.
January 8 question – What started you on your writing journey? Was it a particular book, movie, story, or series? Was it a teacher/coach/spouse/friend/parent? Did you just “know” suddenly you wanted to write?
For me, writing a book was a dream for as long as I can remember. I knew I wanted to write; the catch was getting up the nerve to give it a try. I’d written some poetry and done technical writing, but what I wanted was to craft a novel, something that would live on, long after I was gone.
When I retired from teaching, the writing bug was stronger than ever, and I opted to do something about it. I had a vivid imagination and enjoyed reading, so when the opportunity presented itself with a chance to write a real book and get it published, I jumped at it. Of course, my first pitch failed, but when I entered a second pitch-fest, I got interest from a small publishing house, and after revisions, I sold my first book, then another, and so on.
But it wasn’t all roses and sunshine. I was shafted by at least two small publishing houses, had another close, and finally, had one swallowed up in a merger that tossed little fish like myself to the garbage. I valiantly continued writing and trying to court new publishers, but eventually realized that the only one making money on my writing was them, not me. With more than a little trepidation, knowing I still wanted to write, I requested my rights back and self-published. I haven’t looked back. Fire Angel, my first book, looks far different now than it did in 2013, but the things I learned have made it a much better story.
Why do I write? For the money? Not bloody likely since I don’t make much. I write for a number of reasons, but the primary ones are to entertain others and just do something. For me, writing provides an escape from the terrifying reality that surrounds me. I’m aging, and my body reminds me of that on every cold, damp day. My Facebook feed is flooded with news of one calamity after another–fires out of control, plane crashes killing hundreds, mass shootings in schools, the looming threat of a third world war. Does the bleakness of a world gone mad affect my writing? It does, but not always in a negative fashion. I like to think there is still some good out there, rational minds who’ll realize we’re destroying ourselves and our planet. That’s why, regardless of the plot, my books offer hope and a happily ever after.
This will be my seventh year as a published author. During that time, my writing ability has undergone change. I’ve learned from others, honed my skill, and as I continue to write, I use everything I’ve learned to the best of my ability. No one can predict the future. We all have to hope good will overcome evil and that there will be positive news this year. In the meantime, I’ll continue to vanish inside my head and crank out stories with a happy ending.
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