“A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.”
Writing can be a lonely occupation. Writing groups give encouragement, direction, and a place to commiserate when the inevitable rejection comes. For the past several years I’ve been limited to online support groups for writing, and those are wonderful, but there’s just something about meeting face to face with other writers.
I’ve been blessed to have access to a local group, NOLASTARS, in nearby Shreveport. They are affiliated with RWA, Romance Writers of America. While the focus is on romance, membership in NOLASTARS is open to serious writers in other genres. NOLASTARS is a well established group and has events throughout the year. It’s a wonderful group! RWA offers a long list of benefits accessible online to members.
I’ve found online friends and help as well. The amazing Sarah Tipton edited my YA I wrote for National Novel Writing Month, NANOWRIMO 2017. (Anyone else getting excited for NANOWRIMO 2018? Let’s do it!) Sarah was a godsend. I could not have managed without her. Her website is www.sarahtiptonbooks.com.
Diana L. Sharples gave me an incredible amount of useful feedback on another of my books. She has also been an encouragement at the exact right moment.
Diana has a book coming out this month! She has been a busy bee with several releases this year and more to come soon. I am enjoying her book, Finding Hero. If you like YA Mysteries, you should check it out. It’s available for preorder here.
I found both of these wonderful online friends through Facebook. It’s good to have friends to help you along the journey.
Where do you find support for your creative pursuits?
It wasn’t the first time Rain had kissed a boy, but it felt like a first kiss, warm and tender with just enough spark, the hint of electricity letting her know she should be careful. She pulled back. The wonder on his face, the naked adoration, goose-pimpled her flesh. If he had told her in that exact moment she was beautiful, she would’ve believed him.
I hoped to have this first draft finished by the end of January, but guess what? I was so near the end I could practically taste it. It was right there. Then, in a flash of sudden insight, I discovered a fatal plot flaw. My main character’s inner goal was not quite enough.
This is frustrating. Back tracking is the pits, but I console myself with the idea that it will be a better story in the end. I know how to fix it. The solution came to me as soon as I recognized the problem. It will take time, though.
Another funny thing about this book is that the closer I think the end is, the further away it gets, like one of those telescoping scenes in a movie where the end of the hall stretches far into the distance. I am committing to get this draft done by the end of February. When the dust finally settles, I suspect the story will need massive cuts but I’m trying not to think about that. I lost two weeks to migraines, but still managed to crank out the words on the other days, albeit slowly compared to previous months.
The amazing Diana Sharples has been advising me, and I appreciate her so much! I was a bit scared to approach her when she posted looking for a reader for one of her current works in progress. I read her book, Running Lean while researching eating disorders for one of my previous young adult novels and liked it. Diana has five, yes five, books coming out this year. She is a busy woman. And she is fabulous. Check out her site here.
My To Be Read pile is growing to prodigious proportions, but that’s fine with me. So many good books and zero calories! Slated for this month’s Book Breaks, posted Wednesdays on Instagram and the blog, are When We Were Worthy by Marybeth Mayhew Whalen, The Secret Life Of Sara Hollenbeck by Bethany Turner, and Love and Other Consolation Prizes by Jamie Ford. I’m undecided about my fourth selection. If you have a suggestion, please post in the comments.
This one wouldn’t be upset by a little thunder. She would probably scare any storm that dared to cross her path. Rain could picture her out in the middle of a tornado, commanding it to depart, her hair wild and swirling as the wind obediently blew its way right out of her path.
I haven’t quite finished the rough draft I’m working on, but I am getting near the end at a word count of 66K. I did stop and delete a bit when the story wasn’t unfolding to my liking. As I near the end of this draft, another story idea has popped into my head so I am sure there will be no lack of novels for me to write. I hope to get one or two of these polished up enough to pitch in 2018.
Have you made any goals for 2018?
My reading goal for the next year is to post a book review every Wednesday. My current TBR list leans towards contemporary, southern, and women’s fiction, with a few others thrown in but that’s not to say it won’t grow and change as the months roll by. There is always room for more books, and all bookworms know that the book list is never complete, right?
When I find a book I think people might like, I have to share. And on that note, if you have a book you absolutely love, tell me about it. I read several books a week, usually. Most of my favorite finds come from friends’ recommendations.
From the books I reviewed on my blog this year, I have listed a few notables. There were many more books that I never reviewed, but I restricted myself to only those I posted about in 2017.
Two books made the most impact on me, one was The Pursuit of God by A. W. Tozer. This is a classic that I don’t recall reading before, and the simple language spoke to me in a profound way. I consider it worth rereading every year.
Finish: Give Yourself the Gift of Done by Jon Acuff was an eye opener. One of the first things I did while reading this book was to cut my goals in half. I did this and my productivity has vastly improved with higher word counts than I was able to reach before. This nonfiction book is chock full of good advice. If you haven’t read it yet, grab yourself a copy for the upcoming year’s goal setting.
If I have to pick one novel I reviewed that I liked the best, it would be A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman. This book made me laugh and cry. Beautifully written characters and a heart-squeezing story. Loved it.
A new to me author who consistently delivers is Lisa Scottoline. While legal thrillers are not usually my first pick when I look for new reads, I enjoyed all of hers that I read. Every one I read was satisfying. It’s a rare author that can keep me coming back book after book. As much as I enjoy reading, I can be fickle and have a low tolerance for books that don’t grab me right away. I reviewed Damaged.
The best young adult I read this year was Free to Fall by Lauren Miller. Loved the premise, the characters, and the literary and Biblical allusions.
Lauren Graham’s memoir Talking As Fast As I Can was wonderful. If you are a Gilmore Girls fan you will probably like this small book.
One of the main reasons I read is for the comfort that a good story brings. I like action and mystery, but some days I simply want a good story. Books that fit into that slot for me were Like A Watered Garden by Patti Hill, an old favorite, and Redbird Christmas by Fannie Flagg, which I had not read or listened to before. I love that Fannie reads her own books. She has such a story teller’s gift.
I posted about a few shows and Netflix series, and the one I would like to mention is 13 Reasons Why. All the teens were watching this and talking about it. I also wrote a follow up post Talking With Your Teens about the series. The book was on my list, but I couldn’t bring myself to read it. I will probably try to get to it sometime this year.
So that’s my list for 2017. What were your favorite or most notable reads? Do you have any books you would like for me to review?
Wishing you a year blessed with many, many good books.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” said Rain. She wished they could go back to just sitting in the quiet, not saying anything.
Will stood, fists clenched at his sides before he visibly relaxed, and let his arms hang loosely. Rain expected him to come and sit beside her, or look at her, or say something. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away into the late afternoon shadows, leaving her sitting there alone on a cool concrete bench in his dead mother’s garden.
At 40,000 words, the rough draft of this novel is about half way through my plot outline. Hmmm. May need to trim a bit. I usually write short and then add. I’m not good at math, but even I know at this rate the story would be way too long.
Last month I took advantage of nanowrimo fever to try and keep up the momentum I established a few weeks earlier after reading Finish by Jon Acuff. One of his suggestions was to cut your goals in half, so at half done I feel pretty good about my progress. Except when I don’t feel good about it. Ha! Do you ever beat yourself up for not being as good, as fast, or as brilliant as someone else?
This morning I told my daughter I was a bit sad and depressed for no apparent reason. I wondered if it was because I wasn’t cranking out the high word counts I saw others producing.
Obviously, I was feeling a little sorry for myself and enjoying some sour grapes when I said, “Other people are getting to be all fabulous because they won nanowrimo and here I am still poking along.”
She said, “But you’re already fabulous, mama.”
We laughed. So much for whining about not winning. I guess maybe I don’t need to “win” at everything. As long as I stay fabulous.
Time for me to quit belly aching and get back to work on this novel.
Stay fabulous, y’all!
By the way, what do you think of the new mini book break reviews I’ve been posting? Do you like them?
“Mother,” Rain said, “did you really grow up here?”
Rain knew the answer to the question, but wanted to feel her mother out. She wanted to ask her mother what was she thinking and when could they leave, but it was better to not approach the topic directly. You had to take your time. Mother could be skittish and ornery, especially when her back was pushed up against the wall of unrealized hopes and tattered dreams.
“Yes, I did,” said Mother, letting the sheet she was spreading on the daybed fly out with a snap. It caught the air and bellowed before settling onto the mattress. She had chosen to stay in what Aunt Linda called the sunroom, an old converted porch now walled in, the open end graced with windows all along the backside.
“I have history here. So do you.”
If there was one thing that Mother had plenty of, it was history. Rain was a little too acquainted with particular chapters of Mother’s history, or at least her version of it, which seemed to be subject to varying interpretations and in a constant state of revision. History was not Rain’s favorite subject.
“How long do you think we’ll stay here? We need to find a place before school starts.” In case her mother forgot, she added, “And where you can get a job.”
Mother wouldn’t stay long in this kind of place. That was stone cold fact. It was much too tame and boring. It was no wonder she had wanted to get out, and the small shabbiness of the town also explained why she had never brought them back here.
“Why did you bring us here?” The question popped out before Rain could stop herself.
“I wanted to show you where I came from.”
“That shouldn’t take long.”
Mother laughed and snatched up a crocheted throw pillow, bopping Rain on the head with it. Rain grabbed it and returned the favor. Before long they were squealing and jumping on the bed in a full out pillow fight. They tussled and rolled, laughing until, exhausted and happy as puppies in a pile, they flopped back onto the bed, arms entwined. Doran Bea favored Mother in looks, but Rain could always make Mother smile, at least for a little while. Sometimes a little was enough. Sometimes it was all you were going to get.
Rain listened to the quiet of the house, and to their breathing, until the two separate exhalations matched up.
Her mother said, “I know what you’re doing.”
Rain kept her focus on the ceiling joists above her head. A string of spider webs clung to a crossbeam, and bits of dust were caught up in the construction, the edges of the sticky gossamer creation lose and floating.
“You don’t have to try so hard. You know I love you, right?”
The automatic, expected response tumbled from Rain’s lips, reassurance her Mother wanted to hear. “I know,” she said. “I love you, too.”
There was not the slightest doubt that her mother loved her. She told her so every day. But then, Mother always gave her love away easily.
Taking advantage of nanowrimo fever, I am busily working away on a brand new book, the third in a series. So far, I am liking this one. A while back I started a new and productive writing routine that seems to be working for me. Perhaps the atmosphere in the writer community will help me keep the daily practices I have established over the last several weeks. It can’t hurt, right?
Before I started on book three November 1st, I finally finished the rough (very rough) draft of my second book.
It was a tough one, but I did it. The subject matter was hard for me to write about but I am glad I did. It feels good to finish.
I sped up my writing quite a bit after I read Finish by Jon Acuff. I did a Book Break review of Finish here.
I read some good advice about dictation and realized I have not been doing it wrong and that freed me up tremendously. Tech still frustrates me from time to time, but that’s part of the package.
You might have noticed a few changes to the blog. I’ve been enjoying Instagram, and decided to post my instareviews here as well under the title of Book Break. My super awesome technically gifted son did that magic code writing thing so it does it automatically, if I remember to tag it properly. Tell me what you think. I love the nifty little coffee cups he put in the titles. I will try to post the longer book reviews from time to time, but needed to streamline things and spend more time writing.
Any changes in your life lately? Have any tips on how to succeed and make it to finished?
While I wait to hear back after submitting my first book proposal, I’ve been working hard on a second book for the series. I did a character interview for this second novel some time back. Skimming through the materials, I got that little heart squeeze of emotion. Here’s a peek into what my character had to say about herself.
“You are only as good as your last failure. I hate fake, but sometimes, a lot of times, I am that fake person. Most of the time. I don’t know any other way to be. If I wasn’t what they wanted, then no one would be happy with me.”
My heart already hurts!
I am, once again, crying as I write a book draft.
I use my phone and dictate my stories, quirky though my iphone is at recording, because it is small and portable. This isn’t a perfect solution, but it’s the best I can do at the moment. I still struggle with writing by dictation. On the rare days that I find typing physically comfortable, words flow with ease. Am I the only writer who thinks through their fingers?
I am planning a series of three novels. They are not a continuation of one single story, but stand alone as individual stories of friends.The teen characters from my first young adult novel make an appearance in this second book. As the teens grow, paths diverge. For a time.
This second novel is a story about friendship, deep struggles, and learning to love yourself. This story is particularly difficult to write. My MC battles an eating disorder and poor body image, echoes of my own teenage years.
I got a pleasant surprise as I worked on filling out the plot for the second book. A character walked on for a bit part and took over the third book in the series! I love it when characters decide to show up almost fully developed. It only becomes a problem when they take over the whole story, but that’s another blog post.
Originally, I planned for the third novel to be the story of my aspie boy character’s foray into romance. Then his girlfriend came on stage and made the story her own. It’s the same story, but told from the girl’s perspective. Having a boyfriend with asperger’s makes her already complicated life, shall we say, interesting. Only the barest of a skeleton for the third book in the series exists so far, but it’s coming along nicely considering I’m not even supposed to be working on book three yet.
The day to day difficulty lies with the project I’m supposed to be working on. Isn’t that always the way? But I am committed and slogging away. The stories must be told and cried over, even if I’m the only one to shed a tear.
P.S. The first book dealt with the grief of losing a parent while navigating the ups and downs of the teen world. The family dynamic including a teenager with high functioning autism added to the story line. I cried buckets.
Are you working on any projects? What characters make you cry?
I was ready. My book was finished, revised, and edited. My book coach encouraged me to go to this year’s writers’ conference and make an agent appointment, so I did.
I bought shoes, got a bad haircut, and actually ironed clothes. This was serious.
Months in advance, I did the research and prepared myself to meet a literary agent or publisher. I wrote a one sheet, printed my first four chapters in correct format, and had lists of questions to ask for the ‘extra’ time left over after my pitch. After reading about the available choices, I listed three, understanding I would get one of them. Since I registered early, I would probably get the first one I listed. In case I didn’t, I continued to read online a bit about each person so I could easily bring up topics to chit chat about. Pleased, I realized I had plenty of conversation fodder. I had this.
Then I got there.
Things were going well at first. Arriving early, I had plenty of time to spare. I felt fine, if tired. Sleep had eluded me, but no worries. Instead of sleeping, I listened to relaxing music and did deep breathing to Paul Cardall’s Be Calm. Who needs sleep? I’d faced bigger challenges on less sleep and succeeded. I could probably even get a blog post out of this experience like other writers do, sharing wisdom I garnered from the meeting.
Finding out I had three appointments threw me for a sec, but no problem. I had planned to meet with anyone, remember? I was prepared.
Another poor soul who was waiting to pitch her book looked as if she were about to come unglued. I felt bad for her. I traded business cards with the other writers in the waiting area. We reassured each other that we would be fine. This wasn’t so tough.
My name was called. Even though I had done my homework, I did not recognize the agent I was directed to. After a few seconds, it became apparent this was the one person in the room who I did not have an appointment with that day. No problem. We exchanged pleasantries and exited the room. It turns out I had been confused with another Donna. No big, I didn’t miss anything because I was early.
My actual turn came. I floundered at the beginning, but I was sure to find my footing soon, right?
My brain emptied itself, thoughts completely scattered. My hands flopped around on the table as if I could gather those thoughts back somehow, but every coherent speck of intelligence was gone. Poof. I was tongue-tied, stammering. This from the lady who talks to people in the checkout line and has long conversations with telemarketers.
The agent was exceedingly gracious and kind.
I did not throw up or cry. I did not dump hot coffee on her. So that was good. As a friend told me, the encounter probably wasn’t as bad as a sharp stick to the eye.
I don’t know why I was so anxious, unless it was because my little subconscious was screaming, “This may be a pivotal moment and the next ten minutes is likely to have an impact on your ability to deliver the message God has given you to share with the world of suffering children and the timer is running right over there, numbers flying by.”
Now, I realize this was overly dramatic, but it was my subconscious whispering. It’s hard to reason with such a thing. Realistic Donna understands that my ability, or lack of, in any given situation is not capable of derailing God’s plan. I am simply not big enough to have that kind of impact. To place such importance on self displays an arrogant lack of trust and faith.
I made it through this rite of passage. No one was injured. And she asked to see my work. Maybe she will like it. All I can do now is wait and see.
In the meantime, I plan to trust in the process knowing it will all work out while I happily dig into my next project.
All writers know first drafts are less than perfect. In fact, they are usually awful. Crappy first drafts are par for the course.
At Walmart one day I was shopping with my son. I saw a Smiling Pile of Poo Bank. Jokingly, I said, “When I finish the rough draft for my novel I should treat myself by buying this to hold all the money I earn when I’m a famous author.”
He took it off the shelf and put it in the buggy. “I’m buying it for you.”
“No, no,” I said. “I have to finish the draft first.”
“You will,” he said.
“What if I don’t?”
It gave me the warm fuzzies to think he had faith in me. The guy must believe I could write a novel if he parted with cash to purchase such a thing.
I’m not really sure if having this bank represents earnings I will make selling books. Perhaps, being empty, it better represents all the money I have spent attempting to learn the craft of novel writing.
The Pile of Poo sat in a central place. I saw it every day. We all saw it every day. If I had been good and worked on my novel, the face smiled encouragingly at me. On the other hand, on days I could have written but didn’t, I swear that pile of poo mocked me with its big, round bugeyes and sly, silly grin. Plus, now my son was invested, having bought that pile of poo for me. He is a grown man, but he is still my kid. If he had enough faith in me to buy a ceramic bank with his own money, I had to be worthy of that pile of poo.
It was about this time last year when I heard back from an agent. My full manuscript had been requested, but in the end was turned down. I wasn’t entirely sure what the issue was, so I hired book coach Sarah Hamer to help me.
Here we are many months later with about 40,000 words added to the story. Many of these words were written 500 at a time as I kept to my daily minimum goal. Over time I did pick up speed, learning to use speech to text and making adjustments to current challenges.
New characters walked onto the stage, and the plot is better. I decided to change from Middle Grade to Young Adult, and hopefully corrected any major story flaws.
Finally, my draft is finished! You know what that means. Now I get to begin re-writing and editing.
And my Smiling Pile of Poo will be here to encourage me every step of the way.
Oh, and by the way, one of my other boys bought me this lovely first draft notebook, trusting I have another story in me waiting to be written.
It’s wonderful to have supportive kids, even if they give me lots of crap, I mean poo.
I’ve been fairly good at keeping my goal of writing every day. This has been a challenge. Adjustments were necessary.
The physical act of writing became too much. I have always been a person who thinks through my fingers, so to speak, which made writing fiction using speech to text challenging. It made me want to pull my hair out. To solve this problem I decided to switch gears for a bit.
There are times when you have to take a step back. To leave projects undone goes against my nature. It was hard for me to abandon my fiction long enough to figure out the best way to get words on paper, but it had to be done.
Over the summer I “wrote” the rough draft for a non-fiction book using my iPhone. There are oh-so-many bits of hard won knowledge I would like to impart to my children, or my children’s children, so I decided to make a record of my thoughts on education and homeschooling. This helped get me into the groove of transcribing thoughts without a keyboard or pen. It felt unnatural to write fiction using this method. Using verbal skills to give motherly advice was not an issue. I’m sure the kids will come to appreciate all those nuggets of wisdom someday.
Once the nonfiction project was drafted, I returned to novel writing and found speech to text a little more cooperative. It is still awkward and tedious, but I’m getting better at it. Practice makes perfect, or if not perfect, at least manageable. If only it would transcribe purposeful dictation as well as it records my frustrated, unladylike utterances.
And y’all, I have met new writing buddies! In any difficult journey, finding people who support you, believe in you, and cheer you on helps keep you focused on your calling. Go visit Linda and Rachel on their blogs and tell them “hey” from me.
I’ve found a couple of other writers who I hope to spend time with soon, sharing stories and sugar laden, caffeinated treats. I need my crit partners! Producing a marketable work takes support and help from many fronts, at least it does for this girl.
My writing coach, Sarah Hamer, has been wonderfully patient with me. I appreciate her guidance and support dearly. If you need a little help with writing projects, check out her site here.
It’s time to start considering the editing process, and with that in mind I am trying to outfit my writing space. I purchased an anti-fatigue mat to use with my standing computer desk. My standing desk is an IKEA computer desk we found on craigslist and adapted. I went by Office Depot and tried out the line of Serta computer chairs and was happy to find a comfortable chair. They even have a couple made for shorter people like me!
My eldest found a cool adjustable desk. Smartdesk moves from sitting to standing with the push of a button. It is on the wish list.
Now all I have to do is finish the last twelve chapters of the rough draft for the current rewrite of Nina’s story and I will be ready to begin edits. Right after I get some new glasses.
Today I am guest hosting Literacy Musing Mondays Linkup. Do you have a link to share? Book reviews, writing, anything literacy related is welcome. Please share with us!
How has literacy impacted your life? This is one of my answers.
I’d heard it often enough, and I knew it to be true. Words have power. A good speaker can motivate, a book open your mind to new possibilities, an essay expand your horizons. Even a small word of encouragement can keep one on course. I knew it and I believed it.
I used words to try and talk to people. I asked and informed, explained and requested understanding. It was frustrating. Then I wrote a story. I wrote a story about my child’s day. I had no intention of having it published or really doing anything with it. I need to make it clear that this was no earth shattering prose. It was only a simple, every day essay. The kind you would see on a mom blog.
I tucked my essay into my Bible study book. I don’t remember why the leader asked if anyone had anything to share, but I felt that nudge in my spirit. I ignored it. Speaking out was not my thing. She asked again. No one knew I had that sheet of paper in my book, about my frustration, or my writing. Then she asked again. By this time, people were looking around. I couldn’t read it out loud myself, so I handed it to her and asked her to read for me.
People cried. More than that, my son’s world changed because the story, a plain little story about a little boy who liked things all boys like, had drawn others into his world. So they made room for him in theirs.
There are journeys impossible to fathom unless you walk them, and battles only understood from an altered perspective. Story lets the reader experience connection. Our point of view shifts. Suddenly we can see something we never saw before. Perception becomes clear. Truth is revealed.
Words and story can open hearts. Words can build community. Sometimes, words can simply make a little boy feel accepted.
And the whole world changes.
Now it is time to linkup to Literacy Musing Mondays. This link up is for all bloggers who love to write anything literacy related such as essays about the love of reading and/or writing, book reviews, or posts about fun literacy activities. All family-friendly posts are welcome. 😉
Carolyn features some sweet books about bears. I love all of her selections! You don’t want to miss this one either. Plus, it really is worth it to visit Carolyn’s fun site!
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