Writers Never Die -- Or Retire

I'm at a strange crossroads. I'm sort of retired, but not really because writers never actually retire. Not as long as their brains function.

In a couple of weeks I will receive -- gulp! -- my first Social Security retirement check. I have already received my Medicare Health Insurance card. I am officially old. A couple of months ago I eased out of my "other" writing job of writing and editing a monthly small business magazine. I still do a little work for it -- proofing and some rewriting -- but it is no longer a priority in my life. I work part-time for an animal rescue group keying and logging in medical and adoption data. But my main job now is my novel writing, so I've transitioned back to that. For a couple of decades all I did was write novels for a living. Then I hit a dry spell or impasse -- I'm not sure what it was. I just know that what I wanted to write and what the editors at the publishers I'd been working for wanted were two very different things. So, I stopped writing novels and concentrated on writing non-fiction again. I had been a newspaper reporter before I sold my first novel.

Here I am back at writing novels full time and doing a bit of work for the animal rescue organization. And I'm eligible for Social Security. Yikes! How did I get here? And why don't I feel retired?

Well, of course, I'm not retired. And God willing, I won't be until I'm incapable of writing or dead. Even after death, writers don't instantly fade from the landscape. Our writing endures. For the vast majority of us, it won't endure forever as with such luminaries as Dickens, Poe, Shakespeare, Austin, etc. But our work will linger for a good long while after we're gone. It will remain nestled in readers' brains and hearts and they will smile when the recall "that book" they so enjoyed or "those characters" that made them sigh or smile or cry a little.

When you're writer, you can't turn off your ideas. Even when I was writing nonfiction mostly, I was dreaming up fiction stories or rewriting the ones I was reading. It's like eating for us. You can go a while without it, but then you have to indulge or wither away.

So, here I am at the crossroads of retired and still working. I know a lot of people are here with me. Most of them, however WANT to retire and simply can't because it's not financially feasible. I can, but I don't want to, so I won't. I'll keep working, keep writing, keep plotting, keep looking for more readers for my books.

It's an odd place to be, though. Every day -- even weekends -- I feel that I must work as I have for so, so many years. Today is Sunday and I haven't written on my novel-in-progress yet and I might not! Maybe that is my form of retirement. I will take days off. I won't write on Sunday and maybe not even on Saturday. (Yes, I know, I'm writing now. Just go with this.) That seems like a good step toward retiring. I might even go away for a few days and not take my laptop so that I don't write while I'm gone. 

Baby steps. That's the ticket! I'll take baby steps toward slowing down and not feeling that I must work every day or perish. That go-go attitude kept my mortgage paid, the lights and heat on, and food in the fridge. I've lived a blessed life, being able to make my living as a writer since even before I graduated from college.  I know this. I've known it every day when I sat down at the computer (or typewriter, back in the day) and set to work. Breaking away from that every day routine will take some effort, but I feel I should do it. I should retire a little.

Now if I can just make those characters in my head be quiet for a day or two at a time, this might just work.

Work. There. I said it again. See what I mean? Oh! I just thought of a killer scene for the book I'm plotting! Jeez Louise. This retirement business is tricky.

Why We Read

Infectious Reading

I recently read an interesting article by the ever-interesting novelist Neil Gaiman about the importance of reading. Often, I see posts on Facebook and other places wherein people fret about the younger generations not appreciating reading and preferring to play video games. This fretting flies in the face of huge sales of Harry Potter books and many other adventure novels aimed at children and teens.

I'm of a mind that there will always be avid readers, just as surely as there will always be those who can't bring themselves to read more than a caption under a photograph or instructions on how to play a new game.

Gaiman quotes Rebecca Solnit, who asserted that "a book is a heart that beats in the chest of another." That's so very true, and it's why many people not only enjoy books, but also films, TV, and video games. A book, however, gives you a wholly different journey because, when done well, it allows you to know someone else's mind, feelings, and experiences. You don't just "watch." You live and breathe with a character or characters.

As Gaiman puts it, "books are the way we communicate with the dead. The way that we learn lessons from those who are no longer with us, that humanity has built on itself, progressed, made knowledge incremental rather than something that has to be relearned, over and over. Fiction is the lie that tells the truth..."

He cautioned against preaching and writing what you wouldn't be that interested in reading. Difficult tasks. That might surprise some, but writers know it's true. The need to "preach" hinders us all. We have beliefs and truths we want to present in every novel, but if we hammer home these "lessons," we risk alienating our readers. Likewise, every writer has written "fluff" to fill out a book. Fluff is usually scenes that go on too long and serve no real purpose other than to add pages, relating information the writer has recently learned and feels compelled to share even it's boring to others, or fascinating facts that end up stopping the book's narrative. To take the editing pen and strike out paragraphs and whole pages takes courage, but is necessary. Like cutting out a cancerous growth.

Lessons or ideas should be sprinkled in, rather than poured into book pages. Otherwise, you will over-season and ruin your original, good recipe for a well-told tale.

In my new novel. SOLITARY HORSEMAN, I dealt with three "lessons." With so many, it was a delicate mission to keep them under rein so they didn't trample my story. Throughout, I had to remind myself why we read -- to immerse ourselves in another place, time, and body, so that we emerge different than when we entered that fictive world. Also, and this is no small thing, to entertain and delight. When I write, I craft scenes that I hope will compel readers to keep turning the pages, but also to elicit smiles, frowns, and maybe even a giggle or longing sigh. This happens when readers "become" the characters; when they forget where they are and what they're doing and take breath for breath with the character in the book.

I recall when I read THE STAND by Stephen King. In it, a deadly disease was killing off most of the population and symptoms started off with people coughing. I had been reading the book during my break at work. When I went back to work, a co-worker walked past me and coughed. My heart froze and my gaze snapped to the person as a sickly fear slithered through my mind with the thought, He's infected! Of course, in the next instant I was back in my own world and laughing at myself even as I marveled at Mr. King's ability to wrap me up so tightly in his fictive world.

That my friends, is talent. And that is also why we read.

Riding on Skirt Hems

Thank You, Ladies

   Every writer has other writers to thank for inspiration, encouragement, and lessons learned. Although I have a Bachelor’s degree in journalism, I learned how to be a novelist from other working writers and from books I fell in love with and wanted to emulate.   I’ve studied – and still do, occasionally – novels as my textbooks. Authors such as Phyllis Whitney, Mary Stewart, and Victoria Holt sparked my interest in romantic suspense. I examined their sentence structure, their dialogue, and their expertise with mood setting and describing characters and action sequences.

  Janet Dailey and Sandra Brown fired my imagination with contemporary stories of people who were more familiar to me – more realistic and sexier. I can’t begin to count how many hours I’ve spent going over and over certain paragraphs and snippets of dialogue penned by these women. They were my able tutors.

   LaVyrle Spencer’s books challenged me to write straight from the heart, elevate my prose, and take risks. To me, her novels are works of art. 

  Lately, I’ve taken lessons from E.L. James, Sylvia Day, Roni Loren, Katrina Halle, and Mia Sheridan. To say that I’m obsessed with the “Fifty” novels would be a gross understatement. I’m enamored with each one of them and totally “gone” for Christian Grey.

  There are so many wonderful writers whose stories and characters cling to my mind long after I finish their books. When I write, I aspire to join them in their stratosphere. Sometimes I make it up there with them, and let me tell you, the view from there is addictive. Visiting that place makes me work harder and learn more as a writer so that I can breathe that rarefied air.

I Love Writing -- Except When I Don't

I Love You. I Hate You.


Ah, the writing life. I'm in the final third of a novel that I've been writing since last year. Ugh. I used to think of myself as a fast writer. I don't anymore. I think that's because of advanced age, but it could also have something to do with advanced wisdom. I'm more critical of my writing because I know more about the art.

However, there are days when writing is nothing short of torture. When each word is like a tooth extraction. When I delete more than I keep. When I wonder what's going on . . . have I lost it? Whatever "it" is?

Today? Well, today the writing is going fairly well. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Another handful of chapters and I can write "The End." Then begins the rewriting, revising, editing, and rewriting again. I'll be glad to reach those stages because I'm eager to jump into my next book.


I still love writing. I love daydreaming about upcoming scenes. I love creating new characters. I love plotting a new book. And most days, I love writing page upon page on a book that I've been dreaming and scheming about for weeks or even months.

There are also days when I look back and try to figure out what I've done wrong. Why do some writers take off and sell, sell, sell? Why didn't any of mine strike that perfect chord in millions of readers? I read the bestsellers in my field and I just don't see how most of them are better writers than me. On those days, when writer's blues grip me, it's difficult to march on. Even telling myself to be grateful for what I have accomplished often isn't enough to pull me out of the doldrums. Oh for those days when I was just beginning and believed beyond a shadow of doubt that I would "break out" with my next book and find a larger, more devoted
reading audience!

Nowadays I just hope for a decent number of reviews on Amazon, knowing that getting to the magic number of 50 (when Amazon takes notice) will be nearly impossible, no matter how much money I spend on promoting the book.

That's something that never changes in this writing life. The next book is always so much more promising than the one you're trying to write. It's the dangling of that carrot . . . the greener grass on the other side of the fence . . . the glimmer of a gold ring as you ride the carousel. It's what keeps us all writing -- when we love it and when we hate it -- the temptation of better days and better stories ahead of us.

Going Bump in the Night

You Won’t Believe This, But . . .

    Since my Mind’s Eye series deals with psychics and spirits, I’m often asked if I really believe in ghosts. I can tell you, in no uncertain terms, that I do. Mainly because of what I’ve experienced at the Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, AR.

    During that particular weekend, my friends and I heard about a room that the hotel wasn’t renting out because everyone who had stayed in that room awakened to find that the doorknob had been removed from the inside. The hotel staff would come to the rescue and open the door for them and replace the doorknob, which was often found by housekeeping under the bed or in the closet. We speculated that guests were pulling a prank to bolster all the ghost stories surrounding the hotel. However, we decided to find the room in question.

    After midnight we went to the designated floor and crept down the hall. The room was at the far end of it. Halfway down the corridor, all the lights went out. It wasn’t pitch-black. We could make out each other in the dim light cast from the moonlight streaming through the window. Giggling, we were making “ooooh-aahhhh” noises to each other when we realized it was getting very, very cold! So cold that we could see our breath fogging the air. I remember shivering and wondering, What the heck?!

    My girlfriends and I stared at each other, round-eyed and quivering, as realization dawned. Was there a spirit near us? I could hear my pulse booming in my ears and I hugged myself to ward off the chills and sudden fear.

Then, with a soft pop, the lights all came back on and the area instantly began warming up. Within a minute, it was all back to normal.

    Except we weren’t.

    Like the chicken we were, we ran from that hallway and couldn’t wait to get into our room a floor below. We sat up most of the night jabbering about our experience and asking ourselves over and over again, “Did that just happen?”

That’s just one odd experience I’ve had in Eureka Springs. Don’t even get me started about the café table that rose up and floated!

Believe!

Birth Announcements

The Birth of a Notion

    So, writers start off with an inkling . . . a notion, if you will, of a story . From there characters are created and placed within the story outline. Scenes are imagined. Dialogue is designed. Places are positioned. A book blooms and comes to fruition.

    Then the real labor begins. Pushing that baby out so people can see it! Unlike the birth of a child, when people gather around to “ooh” and “aaah” and strangers say, “Can I see your baby? Let me see your baby,” a book’s birth is a lonely chore. Few if any people arrive uninvited to praise your newest production.

    Listen, I used to think I had it bad when I birthed a book for a print publisher like Harlequin or Avon. I had autograph parties and I went to book signing after book signing. I visited bookstores and put my books at eye level. This was NOTHING compared to what ebooks writers go through. At least with printed books they are out there. Everywhere. Every bookstore (although bookstores are disappearing fast!) and every library. With ebooks, if you don’t let people know – one by one – then your book will be read by a handful of people who actually know you or are related to you.

   Money begins flying out from PayPal for blog tours, advertising, contests, etc. You spend hours writing to blogs and asking them (how to ask without sounding as if you’re begging when that’s what you’re doing – BEGGING?) to read and review your book. Of course, they already have their favorite authors (and it’s always a long list) and they don’t have time to read or review anyone else. They will be happy to post an excerpt for a small price (which all adds up over time to be a big price – often you end up spending more than your book made in sales). Or they are already part of an author’s “posse” and too busy promoting her books, leaving no time for yours.

    And so here I am. Trying not to beg, but failing. Asking you, “Want to see my baby?” “Will you read my baby?”

   Pretty please?

   It's pathetic, really. But necessary. So, the next time you see a mention about a book on Facebook or get an e-mail about a book's release, don't sigh and hit delete. First, think to yourself, "Poor dear," and then read the e-mail or message, consider supporting that author by buying the book, and (this is the important part) WRITE A REVIEW on Amazon or wherever the book is sold.

   I heard the wonderful author Pat Conroy say one time that every year he purchases a book of poetry, a book by an author he's never read before, and a debut novel. I think that's a wonderful goal as a reader and I try to follow through and do the same every year. It does my reader's heart good.

  

Perfection, Please. NOT!

Perfect Is Dull

  Good books have good conflicts – both internal and external.

  When I created the main characters my Mind’s Eye series, I purposefully gave them numerous flaws and both internal and external problems because these characters had to fuel several books. I had planned on three novels for sure – and possibly more.

  One reviewer was reluctant to read the first two because I mentioned that my hero struggled with his feelings for the heroine and wasn’t sure he could be faithful to her. This completely turned off the reviewer, even though I explained that the hero was actually in love with the heroine, but he was trying to keep up some defenses because he expected her to leave him. Conflict. That’s what that is – character conflict that is rooted in past experiences.

  The reviewer’s stance made me think that she was missing out on a lot of good books! If the hero had to fall madly in love with the heroine and have no qualms or insecurities about it, then it’s all on the heroine to fuel the conflict. How is that fair? I suppose the heroine has to be the same way – in love and sure of it. So, where’s the conflict? Has to be all external, which can be less than stellar.

  However, I understand some of these “I won’t read a book that has . . .” reader rules. I used to say I would not read a book with a love triangle or one where the hero does dastardly things. I have since read those and enjoyed them! A good writer can destroy your preconceived notions and "rules" about what you think constitutes a tale well told!

  So, if you’re setting up reader rules – be careful. You’re missing out on the “spice” of trying something new. Give writers a chance to win you over! Allow them to court you. Maybe you’ll spurn them in the end, but at least you will have tasted something sinfully different.