Addicted to Words is Getting a New Name!!!!

I've been doing a lot of soul searching, blog soul searching, that is. And I've come to the conclusion that ADDICTED TO WORDS is a little stale. I've decided it's time to take this blog to the next level. 

But don't worry. I'll still be keeping my posts real and authentic. I won't commercialize or sell-out. 

First, let me introduce my new and improved blog, and my new bloggy name..

 Welcome to

The Teenybooker

I hope you like it here. It feels "write" to me and that's how I roll around here, so make yourself at home and let's get to it. 

 

Hello World!

I am so sorry for my very long absence. I sort of fell right off the blog world and into a dark, lonely place called the "the hole of no writing!" It was horrible.

I wish I could tell you some magical story about how not writing for a year -- YES! one whole year -- produced a bunch of scribbles on virtual paper that amount to a book. Or that the eight, you read that right, eight different beginnings to Evade (SEEK book 2) were a year well spent...

..but alas, no. Though, I am writing steadily now, so stay tuned for more on that.

However, I am not here to talk about that. I'm writing this blog not to brag or teach, not to cheer you on or pump you up (which all writers need so "You can do it! Keep going!), but to tell you about my own personal battle with myself.

After I published Search (SEEK book 1), I dedicated much of my time to promoting it. As a good author does...

That's my job, right? I mean that's what all the big writing blogs tell self published authors to do, right? Promote the heck out of your book!!!! If you're not on twitter with at least one hundred million followers and you're not blogging everyday and you're not posting, posting, posting, tweeting and hashtagging on your Instagram, then you're never going to sell any books!

I mean...

How?

I had no life. No time to write a grocery list let alone my next three books.

I was exhausted. I felt like a complete failure. I'd social media-ed my way to #6 in my book's category (temporarily), I'd done it! Hooray. But the moment I'd take a day to spend with my kids and family, my book would slip #64, #98, #102.

Oh, no I'm off the top 100! No one will find my book here.

And then came the remorse. The comparing myself to every other writer above me.

"How are they doing it?" I'd tearfully ask my husband.

He'd say something supportive. Offer a million reasons why I wasn't measuring up to my competition...

Did you catch it?

I was thinking of other books and other authors as my competition. 

That's where I went wrong. Only I didn't know it then. I was looking at my writing as a sell-off. Of course I was miserable. And who wouldn't be depressed comparing themselves to names like Collins, Rowling, Asher and Roth? It didn't matter that they had seemingly endless marketing budgets, I still felt I should be able to measure up.

All I needed was my time, right?

So naturally I became discouraged when my kids, house, husband and school took more and more of my focus (as it should be!). I spent a small fortune publishing this book, how could I not advertise it?

Mistake number two. Again, I learned the hard way. And one more thing to drag me further and further away from writing, away from all the things I loved. Until finally, I was numb and just stopped caring if anyone ever bought my book, ever read my book. In order to protect myself from the pain of my own self-perceived failure I withdrew from everything in the book world. I canceled book signings, deactivated accounts on social media and just stopped writing almost completely (I don't know that I'm capable of not writing anything, it's how I make sense of my world) but I wasn't being productive.
 
I was hurting. Heartbroken that I'd let myself down. I'd done my research. I knew how to sell books, so I thought. But when it came to choosing between spending time with my family or sitting at the computer to plug my book and slog my blog, I chose family.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't find that balance.

For a long time I couldn't understand why. Why couldn't I be like other authors who are also moms. They really had it all together. They were advertising, blogging, vlogging, and they had kids. It had to be me.

I spent a good six months thinking that was true. But I was also still thinking that I was in competition with the world. But around the six month no-writing mark I received a letter. A wonderful letter. A letter from a fan. A young girl, eleven years old (my target audience!) had read Search and was so in love with it, she took the time to write an actual letter on notebook paper with purple ink. It was the most wonderful thing! And after lines of praise from my sweet fan she reminded me how much she was looking forward to the next book.

Oh, great. I've failed again. First, I felt as though I hadn't sold enough books, that no one cared about them and now I realized, while my numbers weren't in the millions (or even the tens of thousands) I had still sold a good number of books and there were people--kids, the people I started writing for in the first place--reading and liking my book and waiting for book two.

That's when I realized I'd been such a fool. A self-absorbed fool. More concerned with the numbers than the people. I was ashamed. I'd let everyone down.

But that shame on top of the guilt did nothing to pull me out of my hole. And to make matters worse, more people--more fans! I had fans? What?--kept contacting me, asking how the next book was coming.

If I'd been writing like good little author should, I would've been thrilled. Instead, I just kept wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Comparing myself to everyone else every chance I got. And yes, I'm ashamed to admit it, I even punished myself for publishing my book in the first place.

It no longer mattered that it had been my lifelong dream realized. It didn't matter that it was something I should've been proud of no matter what, because let's face it, not everyone has the Chutzpah to write a book.


But you know the real kicker about this deep dark hole of no writing I'd dug myself?

It was so unlike me. I'm not a Debbie Downer. I'm not even a frowner. I'm a cheerful and positive thinker who is always smiling and even in the midst of this sad pity party I was still happy, in real life. Until someone would ask how my writing was going.

"Oh, I'm working on a few things," I'd say without my usual upbeat smile.

So, how was I going to drag myself out of it? Where had I gone wrong? I started thinking, analyzing, critiquing my own performance as an author. And for a long time I didn't get it. And the answer to unlock my jail of wordless sorrow came gradually at first, and then all at once.

"I am not writing to impress other authors. I owe them nothing," I said it out loud to myself.

That's when I realized how I'd been viewing my work.
I finally understood why I felt as though I'd somehow failed. I had been so strong and so brave as I battled my dyslexia to learn to write, I'd kept my resolve while I studied and suffered through my degree in English Lit. I'd taken the time and money to have a professional edit my work, to have a professional format it, to have a professional design the cover with a professional model by a professional photographer (thanks, Honey for funding my dream!).

I'd put all of my book's success or failure on my shoulders. I'd hired pros to do everything else. It had to be me. Right?

I own that.

But then why was I such a wreck even when it was doing well? And if I'd willing stopped advertising twenty-four seven, why did think that it was my poor book's failure?

It wasn't until I was honest with myself that I really understood my misery. Yes, I wrote the book . I hadn't yet understood that I'd also been searching for validation, an atta boy, good job, I guess you're not dyslexic after all from the people in my past.

Which, makes absolutely no sense at all! Were my teachers supposed to come back from the dead and tell me how proud they were of me for finally finishing my nine grade project? PLEASE DON'T MR. EDWARDS, I BEG YOU! DON'T HAUNT ME!

But essentially that's what it was. I had this dream as a small child, that I would someday show everyone that I wasn't stupid just because I had a learning disability. That someday I'd be able to read and write and one day I'd show the world the wonderful stories that had been hiding in my head...

And I did. But the world didn't care.

And now that I know that's what I was expecting. I no longer care. Because that was a little girl's dream. I'm not that little girl anymore. I'm not alone anymore. I'm not trapped in a world I don't understand anymore. I can read and write and I wrote book.

That's enough.


Thanks for reading my painful awakening. And for anyone who might be out there wondering... I am writing Evade (SEEK book 2). I'm loving it so far thanks to one sweet girl who wrote to me again with her awesome ideas.

Selene, I've put your ideas to good use and I can't wait to share them with you!

The Writer’s Maze: Survival Tips for Writers

It’s that scaretastic time of year again, when zombie writers emerge from their dens after a long summer’s hibernation. What are they in search of? Editors, agents, and publishers—OH MY! I’ve already talked about the Writer’s Maze to traditional publishing, but there’s something more you need to know about Fall for Writers. 

 

Besides the cornstalks of wonderful query-writing fun, there’s another correlation between this time of year and being a writer. Halloween for writers can be terror incarnate with the assembly of freaks on the prowl. 

For example, the scarers, the creeps in costume who hide in plain sight and don’t yell boo until you’re not looking. The ghosts, friends who only bring their crazy out on the internet. Then there are the goblins, the creepy men who stalk you on Facebook and Twitter and pretend they’ve read your book - which hasn’t been published yet – so they can flirt with you. The witches, self explanatory. And the trolls, the people who stalk you on the internet leaving bad reviews and rude comments, the schoolyard bullies who’ve grown old but haven’t grown up.  

But there are those people who are even scarier than all those others put together. The clowns. The clowns are those who pretend to be your close friend, but who don’t really have your best interest at heart (and no, this isn’t a vengeful post to take a stab at someone who’s wronged me). This is a collaboration of stories real-life friends have told me, rumors I’ve heard at writer’s conferences, and mixed-in tidbits of my own personal experiences. 

In a self preservation fashion, I’ve compiled this silly, yet gloriously satisfying, Fall for Writer’s Survival List. Complete with descriptions, curses and cures. Keep this handy by your desk for your own protection.

The Scarers: Are people whom you don’t consider a friend, but rather a trusted acquaintance, can be a professor, a freelance editor under your employ, a book-cover designer, an author, or anyone else considered an expert in their field whom you trust to give you honest advice about your career. 

Note: I am not a scarer because I am not considered an expert by any stretch of the imagination.

            Curse: The scarers are so named because of their gift for crushing a writer’s dream with their own tales of “Getting published is hard and can take years” or “Not everyone who wants to be a writer gets published.” 

WARNING: Actual sayings have been paraphrased for the general audience as an example of what a scarer might say, but be warned any person who utters a phrase meant to discourage you is a scarer. 

            Cure: Play deaf immediately. The scarers only power is just a scare tactic and their curse only works if you listen to them. The curse works like a tapeworm planted in your ear, designed to gnaw through your brain until it’s devoured every drop of courage, resilience and confidence you once possessed. If you encounter a scarer, plug your ears and hum, “Just keep writing, just keep writing. Just keep writing-writing-writing. What do you do? You write, write.” 

The Ghosts: The ghosts are the people you know in real life, who are perfectly charming and lovely in person, but they get online and suddenly they’re Debbie-downer. Everything sucks and the whole world is out to get them…and you, why? Because they’re paranoid narcissists with nothing better to do with their lives than dream up scenarios (which probably makes them good writers) of literary global doom and publishing world conspiracies. You know the ones who claim they had the idea for Harry Potter or To Kill A Mockingbird first? Yeah, them. 

Curse: The ghost’s only hope of scaring you from another realm is if you follow them through the looking-glass. That’s right stay away from all mirrors in which you relate to or resemble their delusions at all. That is what the ghosts want, company in their haunting pity party. 

            Cure: Focus on reality. In the realm of the living, the ghosts can’t hurt you. If you remember who you are and what’s real, you’ll survive a ghost attack no problem.

The Goblins: If you haven’t had the unfortunate encounter with a goblin yet, count yourself lucky. For me personally, goblins came as a surprise because no one warned me of their existence. Goblins are like dirty old men (though age really isn’t a requirement to be a goblin) groupies for authors on social media. There are a few ways to recognize a goblin. One, if they POKE you on Facebook. Two, if they Instant Message you saying things like “You’re prettier and younger than I imagined you would be from your book” or “I think you look sexy, Beautiful, we should totally talk.”

Curse: Freaky nightmares in which you imagine yourself having to hide on the internet because you’re too afraid to be in the public’s eye any longer. You feel isolated and alone because there’s no way this is happening to your friends too. They would’ve mentioned it, right? Well, not necessarily, a goblin attack is embarrassing and not everyone wants to discuss it. Some writers find it easier to cope by simply taking a shower and never mentioning goblins again.

            Cure: Expose the goblins. A goblin loses his power in the lime-light. That’s right, many goblins are married or in committed relationships and don’t want anyone to know that they’ve been IMing and POKING around with writers. Screenshot your goblin attack and show the world what’s really going on. 

NOTE: I don’t really recommend the screenshot thing, only because I myself am too chicken to do it. I have been a victim of a number of goblin attacks and I merely run and hide. But if you’re braver than I and decide to do so, please tag me in the post so that I might revel in your courageous glory. 

The Witches: Although this title pretty much speaks for itself, let’s review. Witches always seem to be around, a part of their magic I suppose. They brew up their potions of trickery and manipulation. They might even disguise themselves as a friend in need, only to feed you a poison apple of sabotage.

Curse: A witches curse can be hard to spot because you may not know that you’ve encountered a witch until you’ve hung yourself on the clothesline in the town square and the villagers have come to watch you swing. The witch may tell you to query an agent that clearly doesn’t even represent your genre, or they might suggest you enter your work in a contest even though it’s obvious your work isn’t ready. Or worse yet, a witch may read your work and steal your ideas. 

            Cure: Sadly, there is no foolproof cure for witches, they’re magic remember? But you can always arm yourself in knowledge and guard yourself well. Make sure you’re not being gullible. You must know for certain when your stuff is ready, and when it isn’t. And most importantly, if you’re worried someone else (who is maybe further along in their career than you) might steal creative mojo from you, don’t share your ideas and stories with them until you’re ready to publish so at least you’ll get the credit for being original. 

The Trolls: Everyone’s got trolls and it doesn’t matter what you do professionally, there’s always someone who wants to knock you down and tell you what a giant piece of crap of you are. Actors, singers, producers, publishers, editors, writers, everyone—everyone has known a troll or two in their lifetime. The hardest thing about a trolls right now is the ease at which they can bad-mouth their victims. The internet is one giant playground for a troll to find people to bully and putdown. 

Curse: The only power a troll has is if you start to doubt yourself and believe in what they say. If you for one second begin to see yourself through the troll’s eyes, then he’s won and you’ve lost a piece of yourself to fear.

            Cure: The best defense against a troll attack is to know who you are. I’m not suggesting that you maintain perfect confidence about yourself and your writing abilities throughout your career. I’m saying admit who are to yourself before you put yourself out there for the world to pick you apart, be okay with who are and arm yourself with that knowledge. If you know who you are and a troll tries to tell you you’re something else, you’ll know better than to believe him. 

The Clowns: The clowns are the scariest predator of all if you ask me. These clowns are meant to be serious, knowledgeable experts in their fields, but once you get up close to them you can see their makeup and then they squirt you in the face with the plastic flower in their lapel. They discourage you with words like “only five percent of writers find success” or “you shouldn’t write because you want to make a career of it, you should only write because you love it.”

Curse: If you’ve encountered a clown you’ll know because you’ll lose your nerve and quit the game before you even have a chance at winning. 

            Cure: Laughter is the best medicine to fight off a clown. Though they claim they want to be taken seriously (they even advertise how smart they are with their degrees and accomplishments in their bios) their nay-saying is evidence of their cynicism and you should never – under any circumstances – succumb to the skeptical intimidations of a clown. Laugh at them and walk away. 

Now you know, don’t be a writer that falls for tricks this fall, be a writer who’s well informed and stand tall when you submit your work. And if that doesn’t work, throw the book at the monsters and run like hell, there’s always another path to success. 

Happy Halloween!

 

  

To Three or Not to Three: The Coordination of the Series

The coordination of the series is a delicate, and almost controversial, subject; because it involves the ever sneaky use and placement of that dastardly little punctuation mark we call the comma. To coordinate the structure of a sentence using three or more components one must first use caution and become fully aware that there will be commas involved.

In academia, the rules are simple; a comma is always required when coordinating a series of three or more components. For example:

   There are five different types of lettuce: Butterhead, Crisphead, Looseleaf, Romaine, and Celtuce.

Note that due to the excessive number of lettuce types, it is impossible to avoid using a comma when creating the series. However, if one wishes to be more specific when mentioning the various kinds of lettuce, and some of their unique characteristics, one could avoid the use of commas completely.  

   Butterhead and Crisphead types of lettuce have crisp leaves that form compact hearts.

   Looseleaf and Romaine types grow best in cool weather and do not form significant hearts.

Although, commas are not as sneaky as they would have us think, they – unlike decent poker players – have a tell. The presence of an upcoming comma can be heard like an air raid siren if one knows what to listen for. In a series where three or more parallel coordinate elements are present, one can hear the slight change in pitch – the warning – that a comma is coming and then, there it is—the pause, the telltale sign that a comma has been used.

Nevertheless, beware the renegade! There are those who will omit the comma from the three-or-more rule in an attempt to dash those pesky smudges that dirty up a perfectly good piece of writing. They are the rebels of the literary world, the rule breakers, and the hoodlums, out to make a writer’s job even more complicated than it already is. But, do not be fooled lest your grades will suffer. Do not leave out the serial comma before the coordinating conjunction, it is but a trap.

Digging up The Dead: The Tale of The Manuscript That Wouldn’t Die

You know those old manuscripts you have lying around? The ones that you wrote when you first started writing and you didn’t really know what you were doing? The manuscripts you’re supposed to stash away in some imaginary drawer (because, let’s face it, nobody writes on paper anymore), and pull out years down the road, after you’ve found success and have oodles of books in all major bookstores?

Yeah, that’s the one.

Have you ever considered rewriting/editing/revising one? Or maybe you’ve already done it?

I have a question for you, “Did it work?”

The reason I ask, is because I am not “a success,” at least not yet. I am still a floundering author who’s just doing her time writing and writing and writing etc… etc… etc…

I work hard at it. I write daily. I read everything, including how-to books. I’m finishing my English degree in creative writing (12 more credits woo-hoo-hoo!) and I’m preparing to begin my Masters program next spring. And I have the most awesome writing group (Love to my SFWG sisters!!!), no seriously, they are the best. 

With all of that writing I’ve accumulated close to fifty stories, all of which have great potential to become books. They have strong premises, vivid settings, and solid plots, but none of them move my pulse the way one of my very first stories did (a series of four books). 

I tried and tried to rewrite this old tale and though I had requests from editors and agents, all returned with polite rejections or revise and resubmit notes, I still couldn’t get these stories where they needed to be. Instead I buried them. Every dear character I loved so much, I just shoved down to the depths of my “writing” folder and just kept on writing. I haven’t touched them or looked at them for more than a year. 

Since then, I’ve written three other full manuscripts, all in various stages of rewriting disaster, and a few dozen more short stories (many have novel potential), but through each new manuscript came the cries of my ghostly protagonist from her lonesome, word-doc grave. “Don’t leave me, Candie. I’ll haunt you forever if you do,” she moans. 

I kept telling her, “There’s no hope for you. I can’t save you. You’re dead, so die already!”

But she won’t listen. 

And then, one day not long ago, I happened on an amazing photographer, Chris of CJC Photography, on Facebook and we got to chatting. He suggested I take a look at his portfolio to see if any of his photos might be a good match for one of my works. 

Just look at how delicious his works are...

   

Well surprise, surprise and who do you think I saw staring back at me? That’s right, my dead and buried protagonist. Only she wasn’t dead, she was very much alive and glaring at me with her willful eyes. I was mesmerized, caught under her spell and I couldn’t turn away. And when I finally did, I found even more pictures, pictures of her with her heartthrob hottie, pictures of her in her native world, and pictures of her with the sister (whom I also love!) she's trying to save. Four perfect pictures for four very-not-perfect manuscripts. 

It was a battle I couldn’t win. My protagonist would not let me walk away. And in that short little time span of maybe an hour, chatting with Chris and going over price and rights etc… I walked away (wallet considerably lighter) the proud owner of four amazing cover photos and a new plan.

See, my original idea for this series was to seek traditional publishing, and that actually encumbered me and my storytelling abilities. Because I knew, thanks to many knowledgeable friends, that in order for my series to be marketable and to acquire agent representation that these books had to have certain qualities and they had to be in a definite “hot right now” sub-genre. 

But I can’t work like that. I’ve learned that about myself. I can’t write (okay, I can but I don’t like to) what everyone else is writing this minute. In fact, I try really hard to write new and fresh stories (impossible, I know) but somehow every time I’m working on something it suddenly becomes a popular topic (Does this happen to you? WTF?). The only exception has been this one series. It has never been a mainstream subject (I’m pretty sure, at least not in my lifetime), and it’s had its claws in me for so long I have scars. 

How could I walk away?

As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now (from all of this rambling, maybe?), I have decided to dig it up and revive my old dusty four-part story and… wait for it… self-publish it. 

Ta-da!

I know some of you might say, “That’s a bad idea. Just move on and write something new.” 

I’ve tried that remember. I have plenty of manuscripts I could be revising, polishing and sending out with laborsome queries, but this story won’t die. 

And besides, my friends, family, critique partners (who suffered through many rounds of revision madness with me), and beta readers are all saying, “Do it! Publish it!” 

And so, without further ado, I’m going to revise, edit and clean it the heck up (and OH what a mess it is!). Then I’m going to publish my gloriously chaotic series my way, the way I’ve always seen the story, messy and gritty, lovely and untainted, all of it, as it should be.

I have to let my girl have her day in the sun. She deserves to shine, even if it’s only for me. 

“So rise, my obnoxiously-loud dead protagonist, wake from your slumber and go be the awesome badass I always meant you to be!”

Now, you'll have to wait for my cover reveal to see my amazing photos, and I'll let you know when I get close to publishing what my title and release date are, but until then...

Have you self published? I’d love to hear from you, please talk to me! Tell me it’s all going to be okay. 

Or if you’re like me and have a story that wouldn’t die, I’d also love to know your experience, did it work? Are you still working on it? Or are you in corner talking to imaginary unicorns?

Ah! Either way, even if I go mad, I’m publishing this blasted thing. But it would sure be nice to have some company along the way. 

Find me on Twitter and Facebook – let’s talk!

THE WRITER’S MAZE: The Reason You’re Not Published

I’ve talked about writing a book for my entire life, as many people have, but underneath those empty words swam an oozing puddle of fear. Fear that I wasn’t good enough, fear that I wasn’t smart enough, or the right kind of person to write a book. I played with writing over the years, right up until the day I had my epiphany.

On that day I stood on the back porch, staring into the early morning sky, considering the dream I’d had the night before. It was a dream of characters I’d been imagining my entire life. I’d made up stories and plays about them, who they were and where they lived, what their lives were like. But on that night the story ended. 

I couldn’t stand to let it go, but I was so bewildered I didn’t know what else to do. And then, like a lightning bolt of clarity, it came to me. I asked myself, “Five years from now am I still going to want to write that book? In ten years will I still feel the same?”

The answer was an unquestionable, “YES!”

My mind raced in so many directions at once, I didn’t know which thing to think about first. “Was I going to do this? Was I really about to write an entire novel?”

“Yes I was, because I had to. My characters were dying and the only way to save them was to immortalize them on paper.”

But I had a problem. I didn’t know how to write a novel. I could write okay, I did write for a small newspaper. No one had booed me away yet. But a book…an actual book? I was way out of my league.

Then I thought of all the writers, real-life published authors, I knew and I called them. “How do I write a novel? What do I do first?” I asked.

Looking back I see fear in my hesitation. I wanted someone to guide me. I was so frightened I’d make a mistake.

AND, OH BOY DID I! Can I get an Amen?

I had not a clue. I’d taken a few creative writing classes in school, but this…this one-hundred thousand word (I know, right?) novel was something entirely new. It took me eight months to write the outline alone. And a year after that I hired a friend to edit my wonderful masterpiece, without even revising it first. I sent it on its way as soon as I typed THE END.

Looking back, I’m so glad I did (sorta). I was simultaneously terrified she’d say it absolutely sucked. Part of me wanted her to so I could return to my cowardly life where I didn’t have to put my hopes and dreams on display for other people to critique. But the other part of me wanted her to say there was hope. And that’s exactly what she did – bless her heart – I know that so-called manuscript was awful, but she looked at it with teacherly eyes and returned it to me covered in bloody ink stains. Entire pages slaughtered by the swipe of a red pen, as though they’d meant nothing.

But I wasn’t deterred. I thought I can do this; all I have to do is learn… so I went back to school.

Over the next few years (you can read all about it in my older posts), I educated myself on how to become a writer (still working on it!). But there was still this nagging fear that I wasn’t good enough, or I wasn’t the type of person who could be a writer. And then I tried using positive affirmations, “I’m confident I can and will become a successful writer. It’s only a matter of time.”

Back and forth, up and down, my doubts and confidences would struggle. Someone would give my writing a compliment and I’d think, okay, I’m on the right track. But sooner or later that fear, that ridiculous insecurity from childhood (read here and here) crept back.

Sure, I learned to move forward, to keep writing. I joined writer’s groups and attended conferences. I submitted my work for critique and even hired editors again, despite my fear of the red pen. Each time the feedback got a little better, more encouraging with advice for how to fix my authorly shortcomings. At the same time, my friends were getting signed by agents and selling multiple books to BIG publishing houses.

And here was little ol’ me, floundering around for a lifesaver, drowning in a sea of uncertainty. Oh sure, I had agents and editors interested in my work, and though they ultimately turned me down, they had really wonderful compliments and words of encouragement for me to keep writing. They said I was so close. 

Ugh! I felt like the rejected contestant on American Idol, “Thanks. You’re really sweet and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but YOU SUCK!”

I pretended it didn’t hurt, after all “It’s only a matter of time before someone says YES.” Right?

That part was up to me, but I didn’t know it then and before I could figure it out life happened (read here) and my writing came to a dream-crushing halt.

“It’s over,” I told myself. Though, to everyone else I said I was just taking a break to focus on life, that I’d come back to it [my writing]. But honestly, I wasn’t so sure. I felt broken, defeated, and hopeless.

All of my friends were moving forward and I was not. I was standing still and they were (and still are) zooming by me on their way to success. And I’m so happy for them, truly.

But what I felt, at being left behind through no fault of my own, was overwhelming despair.

I tried to keep writing, when I could, but it wasn’t the same. My flame had been snuffed and no matter how much I tried to reignite it, it only gave a tiny flicker of my original dream. I needed a miracle.

Miracles are funny things. I used to think of them as being a momentous event, like Moses parting the Red Sea, but I’ve come to realize that miracles can take time. A miracle might be happening right now, because as I scribble this down I understand where I went wrong so clearly. 

Let me back up. A year ago next month I attended one of my favorite writer’s conferences, The Dallas Fort Worth Writer’s Conference, and I pitched a couple of projects I’d been working on despite neither of them being completely “polished.” I told the agents and editors, who seemed genuinely interested in my projects, that I was close (I do NOT recommend pitching before it’s absolutely ready!). 

I went home and got straight to work, but once I delved in an irrational fear consumed me. I had allowed my circumstances to become my excuse for my inability to finish what I’d started and ultimately I never submitted anything. I closed the projects away in a folder on my laptop that I still have yet to reopen. 

I’m sure the agents and editors have never given me or my projects another thought, but it doesn’t help knowing that I promised to deliver something, and I haven’t. That only makes me feel like more of loser. 

And this is where I believe the miracle is happening, right here…right now I’ll admit for the first time that the reason I have not finished the books is because of fear and weakness, not my circumstances.

I have allowed myself to become one giant, walking, talking excuse because I AM AFRAID.

I am so afraid I’ll never get published that I gave up trying.

And here is my confession, which I have just discovered about myself, “I am the only reason I am not published!”

And if you’re like me, you’re the only thing standing in your way too.

I see people bitching and moaning all over the internet about these agent rejections or that editor’s notes. I see people gripe when someone critiques their work. But the truth is…

If we truly want to be published, we have to stop buying into that fear and get busy changing what needs to be fixed in order to get published. PERIOD.

If the world is saying you’re not ready, then YOU’RE NOT READY. Accept it and move forward. Take it from me, denying it only makes you stuck. And I’ve been stuck for far too long. It’s time to dig myself out and make my dreams happen.

Because no one else is going to.

Stay tuned...