The Eff It Book

Here’s a brief list of things NOT to learn from me:

1. Engaging your brain filter when speaking

2. Holding beverages in such a way that you don’t spill them on yourself or others

3. Writing alpha males

4. Walking in heels

5. Saying NO

And here are some things you could possibly learn from me:

1. Speaking in front of a crowd without having a panic attack

2. Disengaging your TMI filter

3. Writing when you don’t feel like it

4. Exercising when you don’t feel like it

5. Writing your Eff It Book

Let’s focus on the last one. What is an Eff It book, you might ask? Why, it’s when you reach the point in your writing career where you’ve tried on a lot of hats, but they all look stupid. You’ve probably been trying to follow all the rules and are getting frustrated by a continued stream of rejections. One day, you say “Eff It! I’m going to write the story I want to write just how I want to write it.”

And that’s how Beulah Land and the Happy Hour Choir was born.

I’m not advocating that you write your Eff It Book first. Maybe you’re a better writer than I am. Maybe you’re one of those people who gets her first book published. More than likely, however, you’re going to have to write a lot and learn even more. Your Eff It Book is your voice. If you look at what you’ve written up until this point, you should be able to find some hints of your voice, but your Eff It Book is your voice. Here’s an abbreviated timeline of how I finally got there:

1. Ill-fated historical western romance(1999-2000)—This was my first attempt at a romance novel after I’d read tutorials from both Kathryn Falk and Leigh Michaels. Oh, the complaints I got on this one! First draft: your hero’s not manly enough. Second draft: your hero’s mean and unlikable. Bah. I didn’t have the voice for historicals anyway.

2. Southern fiction piece, aka The Plotless Wonder(2001)—I had some idea of where I needed to go, but I didn’t have all of the tools. This one actually had a couple of bites from an editor and a couple of agents, and it was the piece I submitted as part of my graduate school application. It also had NO PLOT WHATSOEVER. So that happened….or, in this case, didn’t.

3. My attempt at a Harlequin American(2003ish)—At this point I’ve been teaching. I’ve birthed a baby. I see Harlequin has a home and hearth line, and I think I can do small towns. Then I write the hero as a mortician. Kathleen Sheibling, the editor to whom I pitched this story, has the patience of Job. She requested a partial, and I got a really well thought out rejection from Harlequin. It wasn’t a revise and resubmit, but it really showed me what I did well and what I so did not. At this point I had external plot, but that internal plot? Not so much. Also, as it turns out, funeral directors aren’t really what the typical Harlequin reader seeks. Imagine that. The good news: Even though I scrapped the story, it came back to me later when I had THE EPIPHANY.

4. Ill-fated paranormal(2005ish)—I thought to myself, “Self, paranormal is hot. you like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What could possibly go wrong?” Oh so many things, Gentle Reader. First, I decided to write about psychics—not a big market for those. Then I put my villain in a wheelchair—he could handle himself, don’t worry. This time I had plot. I had GMC. I still didn’t have a good story. Why? I don’t have the voice for paranormal, and I don’t write alpha males. I should’ve realized the importance of an alpha male hero in a paranormal novel, but, since that’s not my preference, I didn’t put 2 and 2 together until I got the infamous “Man up!” critique.

5. Beulah Land and the Happy Hour Choir(2009-2010)—By the time I got to Beulah, I had been writing stories for at least 20 years. I’d been trying to write something publishable for about 10 years. I’d read every book there was to read about writing. I’d entered contests. I’d submitted my work for critiques. I’d even started my Master in Professional Writing. The critiques had worn me down. Some of the critiques were similar, but so many others were coming from all directions. Nothing made sense other than how I obviously wasn’t any good at writing since I had a stack of rejection letters and had yet to even final in a contest, much less win one. So I got mad. I was sitting in a Mary Buckham/Dianna Love class over in Alabama and thinking about a hymn and thought to myself,

“What would it be like if you were actually named Beulah Land, but you couldn’t seem to do right?”

The rational part of me said, “That involves religion. It might tick people off!”

And the crazy, frustrated, irrational part of me responded, “Eff it! I’ll write what I want to write. It’s not like what I’m doing has worked so far.”

I took all of my frustrations from rejections, critiques, and attempting to make something out of The Plotless Wonder (#2) above, and I shoved them back into the scary recesses of my mind. I told myself to write a story for the love of story. That’s not to say I didn’t plot the story or fill out character sketches or any of the other responsible author things to do. Rather, I didn’t attempt to tailor the story to anyone else’s guidelines.

Lo and behold, if I didn’t win the Duel on the Delta and final in the Maggies. I tweaked the story some more and found representation and finaled in the Golden Heart. All of those accomplishments gave me the confidence to look at my work and find what about it was….mine. One day as I was driving back from the preschool, I had THE EPIPHANY. I gasped then shouted, in that way only writers really do, “Oh, hell! Ginger Belmont is the body at Dec Anderson’s funeral home, and The Fountain is where Romy and Julian sing karaoke! The Satterfields go to church with Ginger!”* Three of my stories were interconnected! I dusted off the cow story that I’d started as a Superromance but abandoned. I took the mortician’s story and revamped it as southern fiction instead of a romance. Voila! My mind had created a community, and I hadn’t even realized it.

Now it’s on to the realm of editing, but at least I have some idea of who I am and what kind of writing makes me happiest. That’s an important clue, you know: the writing that makes you happiest is probably the writing you do best.

So, tell me, my lovelies, have you written an Eff It Book?

Feel like writing one now?

*It’s best to have THE EPIPHANY alone. People look at you funny when you shout statements like that or, “Son of a motherless goat! P.J. Gets her hair cut by Presley, and Mrs. Morris, oh she of the dead cat, is one of the elders in the First Baptist Church. And she’ll be the lone voice of reason!” They haven’t committed me yet, but there’s still time.