After last Friday's post, I feel a lot better about my new life as a published author. And it's all due to YOU. My blog friends. Listen now, as I break out into song, but please by all means hear Josh Grobin.
You lift me up....
Sorry, I'll stop now.
Anyway, in trying to deal with all those twisted emtions, stepping away from the blogs for awhile was a given. I had to. Besides the fact I was a dribbling sniveling mess, one of the reasons I decided to take a hiatus was because of all the pressure (real or imagined) that people expect you to blog about important stuff once you're published. That you "know" things other writers don't. That the wisdom you've gained should be shared with everybody else. And believe me, if I had it, I would have shared it. See, but the problem was, I ain't no smarter now than I was before September 29th. It's still the same incoherent babbling.
The other reason I needed to take a hiatus was because my father is not doing so well. He's had a few ups and downs over the last few years, but this last bout (since I published actually) has had him in and out of doctors offices and hospitals at least twice a week so it's been a lot of emotional upheaval in more ways than one. He's holding his own for the time being, has an appointment with another specialist after the holidays, so hopefully they can figure out what the f*ck is wrong with him. (He's had ALL the tests, ALL the scans, ALL the bloodwork, and no one can give him a definitive answer why he feels like shit all the time.) So I'm over there a lot. (My life with my parents has always been complicated and whether they support me in my book writing is neither here nor there. They're still my parents and I do love them dearly.)
The third reason I needed to step away for awhile is I needed to get on with the process of finishing the next novel in my series -- THE DUKE'S DIVORCE. Between The Monster and being at my parent's beck and call, it's been a little dodgy finding the time to really get the flow I'm looking for, but I can report, I am now at 68,736 words, so I'm 2/3 done.
Any published author will tell you, after the first book comes out, there's this INCREDIBLE mind numbing PRESSURE to produce another book, whether traditionally pubbed or indie. And I took the responsibility of placing it on myself. Let me just say, there were a few days where I thought I was really going to throw in the towel. Ask Bridget, she can attest to the upheaval with email I sent her. I thought I was going to explode.
But, I found out, I can only write a book so fast, or slow, they all come out one word at a time. And even then, sometimes for every 15 written, I have to delete 14. You know how it goes.
Anyway, what this rambly post means, is that, I guess I'm still on hiatus, but I've found my feet, so to speak. I can stand upright for now. I can breathe. I can tell you stuff, just because I can, because I know you'll listen and I don't have to impress you. I can just be me. I may not be around like I used to be, but I'm still here. I love you guys, I really do, and I wouldn't be where I am without each and every one of you.
You lift me up...
Sorry. I'll stop now, but you know what I mean. And sorry in advance for making that song stick in your head for the rest of the day.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
What Happens to Us?
I've been floating around the blogs the last few days and ran across an interesting thread from published authors that's really resonated with me. I was going to keep silent on it, but I've found, yeah, I need to say something.
It's an interesting phenomenon that happens to writers after they become published. Elana Johnson, Tahera Mafi, Michelle Davidson Argylle, and Jody Hedlund have all voiced their emotional upheaval. I felt the same thing after my book showed up on the Kindle. I was overwhelmed with how many books were bought, yet down-hearted that it wasn't enough. But what did I expect? I would sell a million copies overnight, that one of the agents who rejected me would call and say, "oh yes, I was so foolish to let you go, let me offer you a contract now", that I would become the next overnight sensation because I had finally self-published this "thing" that I'd been working on for two years.
I know there are differences between indie authors and traditional authors, but the feelings are basically the same. I take from Elana, lost and alone. I put my book out there and waited for the accolades, the kudo's the press, and nothing. I take from Tahera, that giddy feeling of going into a bookstore (although, I have to check my Kindle stats every 3 hours) and staring at the cover, feeling the pride, yet not wanting to be conceited about it. I take from Michelle the overwhelming jealousy over what someone else has. My own crazy insanity that another author got 57 reviews overnight and I only had three for two months.
I have done something no one else in my family ever did, but my family doesn't care. Not one note of congratulations, not one encouraging e-mail. NOT ONE. Like, who cares, it's just Anne, being Anne again, just another one of her hare-brained schemes to make money (I refer back to my catering business -- they all said I couldn't do that either.) This hurts so badly you can't imagine. My own family doesn't give a shit that my name is on a book. That it's being read by 182 people whom I've never met. If that doesn't make you a little emotional, then nothing will.
And so, after three months of watching and waiting for the "big break", I finally came to the conclusion, there's nothing any different about being a writer than there is about being a chef, or a cab driver, or a doctor, lawyer, Indian chief. When the next day dawns, you put on your pants, brush your teeth and go to work. I just happen to work from home, downstairs in my basement.
The expectations that life is going to change in some dramatic way after we are published are fed to us, by us, by other writers, in where we read about the debut author snagging that million dollar movie deal. We want to be JK, Stephanie, Kristen. We want it to be us. Desperately. (And if you say you don't, you're lying. Okay that's a blanket statement, so I take it back, but we all do think at least once, how fab it would be to be famous.) We want the awards, the fame, the hype, but when it doesn't come (to most of us) we're left feeling out of sorts in our own skin, and wonder who it was that we could blame for lying to us, who told us this was the way life was going to be when you get published.
And we find, it was only ourselves.
Yes, I do take pride in all I've accomplished, but what I need to remember is, I'm just a writer who wrote a book. Sure, I'll be jealous, and afraid, and excited, and overwhelmed by all these crazy emotions. The feelings of abandonment, despair, elation, joy, and trepidation are just the natural process of evolving from writer to published author. Kind of the same feelings after you've had a baby.
But what I've found through these last three months, is to just let it go, and get on with what I do best. Love my daughter, pen my next stories, and catch up with the laundry.
What else is there really?
It's an interesting phenomenon that happens to writers after they become published. Elana Johnson, Tahera Mafi, Michelle Davidson Argylle, and Jody Hedlund have all voiced their emotional upheaval. I felt the same thing after my book showed up on the Kindle. I was overwhelmed with how many books were bought, yet down-hearted that it wasn't enough. But what did I expect? I would sell a million copies overnight, that one of the agents who rejected me would call and say, "oh yes, I was so foolish to let you go, let me offer you a contract now", that I would become the next overnight sensation because I had finally self-published this "thing" that I'd been working on for two years.
I know there are differences between indie authors and traditional authors, but the feelings are basically the same. I take from Elana, lost and alone. I put my book out there and waited for the accolades, the kudo's the press, and nothing. I take from Tahera, that giddy feeling of going into a bookstore (although, I have to check my Kindle stats every 3 hours) and staring at the cover, feeling the pride, yet not wanting to be conceited about it. I take from Michelle the overwhelming jealousy over what someone else has. My own crazy insanity that another author got 57 reviews overnight and I only had three for two months.
I have done something no one else in my family ever did, but my family doesn't care. Not one note of congratulations, not one encouraging e-mail. NOT ONE. Like, who cares, it's just Anne, being Anne again, just another one of her hare-brained schemes to make money (I refer back to my catering business -- they all said I couldn't do that either.) This hurts so badly you can't imagine. My own family doesn't give a shit that my name is on a book. That it's being read by 182 people whom I've never met. If that doesn't make you a little emotional, then nothing will.
And so, after three months of watching and waiting for the "big break", I finally came to the conclusion, there's nothing any different about being a writer than there is about being a chef, or a cab driver, or a doctor, lawyer, Indian chief. When the next day dawns, you put on your pants, brush your teeth and go to work. I just happen to work from home, downstairs in my basement.
The expectations that life is going to change in some dramatic way after we are published are fed to us, by us, by other writers, in where we read about the debut author snagging that million dollar movie deal. We want to be JK, Stephanie, Kristen. We want it to be us. Desperately. (And if you say you don't, you're lying. Okay that's a blanket statement, so I take it back, but we all do think at least once, how fab it would be to be famous.) We want the awards, the fame, the hype, but when it doesn't come (to most of us) we're left feeling out of sorts in our own skin, and wonder who it was that we could blame for lying to us, who told us this was the way life was going to be when you get published.
And we find, it was only ourselves.
Yes, I do take pride in all I've accomplished, but what I need to remember is, I'm just a writer who wrote a book. Sure, I'll be jealous, and afraid, and excited, and overwhelmed by all these crazy emotions. The feelings of abandonment, despair, elation, joy, and trepidation are just the natural process of evolving from writer to published author. Kind of the same feelings after you've had a baby.
But what I've found through these last three months, is to just let it go, and get on with what I do best. Love my daughter, pen my next stories, and catch up with the laundry.
What else is there really?
Friday, December 2, 2011
Happy Birthday Monster Child
Seven years ago today at 7:02 am, weighing in at 7 pounds 7 ounces, and 17 and a quarter inches, (don't know what it is with the 7's, hope they're lucky) my Monster was born (after 28 hours of labor I might add.)
She looked like a chipmunk, slept like an owl, and ate like a baby gorilla. I guess now I know where she gets her love of animals from. She was a lot of fun back then, I'd dress her up in her little outfits and we'd go to all sorts of places. We could never go anywhere without being accosted by at least 5 little old ladies who wanted to ooh and ahh over the most beautiful baby in the world. Kind of like a hot guy with a puppy on the beach, but not.
Evertime we went to my parents house, my father would make me take off her shoes and socks so he could kiss her toes. Yeah, I know, eewww, but hey, he's my father. My mother bought her all kinds of "princess" attire because, well, what else do you buy for a baby as beautiful as this?
During the last 7 years, I never thought my life would become what it has. There's been a lot of ups and downs, moves, changes in lifestyle, that I never thought I would ever do, but you know how it goes -- a baby changes everything. Truthfully, if she wasn't around, I think I would still be stuck in a restaurant somewhere spending my paychecks on shoes I would only wear once, dating the wrong kinds of men, and trying to keep up with Giada and The Barefoot Contessa. I can say without any doubt, I never would have written, or finished, any of my books, let alone published them.
The Monster has kept me grounded through all the joys and triumphs, bad times and uncertainty. For such a litle person, she's kept my head on straight, because it's not about ME anymore, it'a all about HER. And I don't even think I have to tell you how spoiled she is.
I can't tell you how much I am in love with her because that would take volumes. I thank God everyday for allowing me to have her in my life. She's smart, kind, a whizz at baseball, loves math (of all things), reads voraciously, (wonder where she got that from), forgets when I yell at her, writes me love notes all the time, and has an appetite the size of a grown gorilla. (The kid could eat macaroni and cheese for breakfast, lunch and dinner.)
Happy Birthday Monster Baby! You've made all my dreams come true.
She looked like a chipmunk, slept like an owl, and ate like a baby gorilla. I guess now I know where she gets her love of animals from. She was a lot of fun back then, I'd dress her up in her little outfits and we'd go to all sorts of places. We could never go anywhere without being accosted by at least 5 little old ladies who wanted to ooh and ahh over the most beautiful baby in the world. Kind of like a hot guy with a puppy on the beach, but not.
Evertime we went to my parents house, my father would make me take off her shoes and socks so he could kiss her toes. Yeah, I know, eewww, but hey, he's my father. My mother bought her all kinds of "princess" attire because, well, what else do you buy for a baby as beautiful as this?
During the last 7 years, I never thought my life would become what it has. There's been a lot of ups and downs, moves, changes in lifestyle, that I never thought I would ever do, but you know how it goes -- a baby changes everything. Truthfully, if she wasn't around, I think I would still be stuck in a restaurant somewhere spending my paychecks on shoes I would only wear once, dating the wrong kinds of men, and trying to keep up with Giada and The Barefoot Contessa. I can say without any doubt, I never would have written, or finished, any of my books, let alone published them.
The Monster has kept me grounded through all the joys and triumphs, bad times and uncertainty. For such a litle person, she's kept my head on straight, because it's not about ME anymore, it'a all about HER. And I don't even think I have to tell you how spoiled she is.
I can't tell you how much I am in love with her because that would take volumes. I thank God everyday for allowing me to have her in my life. She's smart, kind, a whizz at baseball, loves math (of all things), reads voraciously, (wonder where she got that from), forgets when I yell at her, writes me love notes all the time, and has an appetite the size of a grown gorilla. (The kid could eat macaroni and cheese for breakfast, lunch and dinner.)
Happy Birthday Monster Baby! You've made all my dreams come true.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Happy Thanksgiving
I just wanted to wish everyone a very happy, safe, and fulfilling Thanksgiving holiday.
I also wanted to say, I'm going to be taking a hiatus. There're so many things I've been needing to get done, and I'm finding 24 hours in a day is just not enough. Something has to be set aside for the nonce, and I'm afraid, my darlings it's you. As I'm sure you've noticed in the last few weeks, I haven't been around to many of your blogs and I do apologize. It's not you, it's me. I just can't seem to find the time.
I'm hoping to get everything accomplished by mid-December, but one never knows how long this "stuff" will take. And if I don't see you before Christmas (which I sincerely hope not) I want to wish you all the best and brightest for the holiday season.
I will have posts up on my author web-site if you feel the need to stop by and see my shiny face. I only post on Monday over there.
So, I hope all your NaNo dreams come true. I pray you all have a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner. I wish the best holiday season for you and your family.
I'll talk to you all soon.
Friday, November 18, 2011
On The Grille -- Book Review House of Diamonds
On Today's Menu -- Karen Jones Gowan & HOUSE OF DIAMONDS
I recently finished Karen's book HOUSE OF DIAMONDS, the follow-up to her UNCUT DIAMONDS. I probably should have read the first book first. I sort of kind of knew H of D was a sequel, but didn't really think about it until I got into it and realized I was missing part of the story.
As the book opens, Marci (the main character) is facing a sort of mid-life crisis: inasmuch as she is the mother of seven (yes 7!) children, her husband is away on business (yet when he's home, he's also a high ranking member of their church and therefore not around very much), her passion about her writing is forcing her to make choices about her life she's not quite comfortable with, and her house seems to be falling apart around her ears.
I felt for Marci. As a non-practicing member of any faith, I was struck by how much Marci relied on God to provide the answers to her questions. (She's a Mormon.) And when her sister's child is diagnosed with a brain tumor, that faith is sorely tested. (This part of the book made my heart bleed. As a mother, I felt the pain and anguish poor Cindy had to go through with Baby Jordan.)
Marci tells a tale of hardship, but also incredible hope that one day she will be able to work on her dream -- of becoming a writer. With 7 kids, and an almost non-existent husband, I felt her pain. As a woman, I could so understand her need for "me" time. As a writer, I could definitely feel her frustration that there was simply just not enough time in the day. Add to that, a memorable conversation in K-mart at Christmas with a snobby college professor (who I so wanted to smack upside the head), and poor Marcie's passion for writing is subsequently squashed. I felt so bad for her.
And let me just say, that not having read the first book, I was uncertain of why she picked HOUSE OF DIAMONDS for her title. I didn't get it, and looked for some measure of metaphor throughout. Not until the very last page did the title come into play and I thought it was very apt.
I liked this book. I could relate to Marci and her struggles. It almost felt autobiographical at times and that lent it an endearing quality. This book also gave a lot of insight in what it means to be a Mormon, (something I had absolutely no idea about, other than the fact they can't drink coffee) and how in times of great stress people of faith seek comfort.
I have a few questions for Karen --
Is this book autobiographical? In some aspects it must be, you seem to draw from personal experiences.
Both Uncut Diamonds and House of Diamonds are highly autobiographical, although details of certain instances have been tweaked for narrative flow and fictional purposes. During all those years of me (like Marcie) wanting so desperately to write and being unable to find the time, guess what I wrote? Pages and pages in my journals, and these are what I drew from in writing the two Diamond novels. If I wanted, I could continue the saga of the McGills as they pull up roots in central Illinois and move to San Jose, CA, and then to Utah where the children have come of age. Because it's all there in my head, my heart and my journals.
Is the story about Baby Jordan true? This really ripped my heart out.
This story is very much the truth, and my sister who Cindy is based on was good enough to send me copies of the journals she kept during this time. Descriptions of what the doctors were doing and even things that were said to her are taken directly from her journals. It was such an intense story on its own it required very little fictionalization.
And what about the "professor" and his cutting Marcie down in K-mart - that she would never be a real writer? Had someone said those awful things to you? (This read so "real" to me, I couldn't help feeling upset at his insensitivity.) And if so, how did you manage to put those feelings aside and write a book?
This did not actually happen, although there was an arrogant college professor who was a member of JAW, my writing group. The scene where Marcie presents her ideas about Stephen King and the professor's subsequent scoffing really did happen. I just exaggerated and made him even more of a jerk than he already was, because that is just oh so satisfying! But let me say that House of Diamonds is set in the 1980's and the entire writing/publishing world was much different back then. It was difficult for a woman to break in, especially one from a little Midwestern town. Back then women went to New York to be writers, because they often had to work in the industry, or know someone in the industry to get a book published. So even though he didn't say those words to me, it's the kind of sentiment that was often expressed about a wife and mother wanting to write, even a decade after the women's liberation movement.
Thanks so much, Karen for allowing me the privilege of reading HOUSE OF DIAMONDS.
You can find Karen's books here at Amazon
and here at B&N
Also, House of Diamonds is available at the new online bookstore CeleryTree.com in all formats.
And there's a 2 for 1 sale! Preorder print book House of Diamonds from the publisher's website and get Uncut Diamonds for free!
I recently finished Karen's book HOUSE OF DIAMONDS, the follow-up to her UNCUT DIAMONDS. I probably should have read the first book first. I sort of kind of knew H of D was a sequel, but didn't really think about it until I got into it and realized I was missing part of the story.
As the book opens, Marci (the main character) is facing a sort of mid-life crisis: inasmuch as she is the mother of seven (yes 7!) children, her husband is away on business (yet when he's home, he's also a high ranking member of their church and therefore not around very much), her passion about her writing is forcing her to make choices about her life she's not quite comfortable with, and her house seems to be falling apart around her ears.
I felt for Marci. As a non-practicing member of any faith, I was struck by how much Marci relied on God to provide the answers to her questions. (She's a Mormon.) And when her sister's child is diagnosed with a brain tumor, that faith is sorely tested. (This part of the book made my heart bleed. As a mother, I felt the pain and anguish poor Cindy had to go through with Baby Jordan.)
Marci tells a tale of hardship, but also incredible hope that one day she will be able to work on her dream -- of becoming a writer. With 7 kids, and an almost non-existent husband, I felt her pain. As a woman, I could so understand her need for "me" time. As a writer, I could definitely feel her frustration that there was simply just not enough time in the day. Add to that, a memorable conversation in K-mart at Christmas with a snobby college professor (who I so wanted to smack upside the head), and poor Marcie's passion for writing is subsequently squashed. I felt so bad for her.
And let me just say, that not having read the first book, I was uncertain of why she picked HOUSE OF DIAMONDS for her title. I didn't get it, and looked for some measure of metaphor throughout. Not until the very last page did the title come into play and I thought it was very apt.
I liked this book. I could relate to Marci and her struggles. It almost felt autobiographical at times and that lent it an endearing quality. This book also gave a lot of insight in what it means to be a Mormon, (something I had absolutely no idea about, other than the fact they can't drink coffee) and how in times of great stress people of faith seek comfort.
I have a few questions for Karen --
Is this book autobiographical? In some aspects it must be, you seem to draw from personal experiences.
Both Uncut Diamonds and House of Diamonds are highly autobiographical, although details of certain instances have been tweaked for narrative flow and fictional purposes. During all those years of me (like Marcie) wanting so desperately to write and being unable to find the time, guess what I wrote? Pages and pages in my journals, and these are what I drew from in writing the two Diamond novels. If I wanted, I could continue the saga of the McGills as they pull up roots in central Illinois and move to San Jose, CA, and then to Utah where the children have come of age. Because it's all there in my head, my heart and my journals.
Is the story about Baby Jordan true? This really ripped my heart out.
This story is very much the truth, and my sister who Cindy is based on was good enough to send me copies of the journals she kept during this time. Descriptions of what the doctors were doing and even things that were said to her are taken directly from her journals. It was such an intense story on its own it required very little fictionalization.
And what about the "professor" and his cutting Marcie down in K-mart - that she would never be a real writer? Had someone said those awful things to you? (This read so "real" to me, I couldn't help feeling upset at his insensitivity.) And if so, how did you manage to put those feelings aside and write a book?
This did not actually happen, although there was an arrogant college professor who was a member of JAW, my writing group. The scene where Marcie presents her ideas about Stephen King and the professor's subsequent scoffing really did happen. I just exaggerated and made him even more of a jerk than he already was, because that is just oh so satisfying! But let me say that House of Diamonds is set in the 1980's and the entire writing/publishing world was much different back then. It was difficult for a woman to break in, especially one from a little Midwestern town. Back then women went to New York to be writers, because they often had to work in the industry, or know someone in the industry to get a book published. So even though he didn't say those words to me, it's the kind of sentiment that was often expressed about a wife and mother wanting to write, even a decade after the women's liberation movement.
Thanks so much, Karen for allowing me the privilege of reading HOUSE OF DIAMONDS.
You can find Karen's books here at Amazon
and here at B&N
Also, House of Diamonds is available at the new online bookstore CeleryTree.com in all formats.
And there's a 2 for 1 sale! Preorder print book House of Diamonds from the publisher's website and get Uncut Diamonds for free!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
In Case You Didn't Hear
My fabulous friend, J. Bridget Chicoine, has recently been signed with Rhemalda Publishing. UNCHARTED: Story for a Shipwright will hit the shelves next October, but let me tell you, I've had the honor of reading this book, and you need to put it on your TBR list right now. Bridget is a literary genius, and writer extraordinaire, and you will not want to miss this book.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I'm at Nicki's Today
I'm over at Nicki Elson's today where we'll be dishing about writing, naturally, my overlapping series concept, and why I love a good corset.
It's going to be a good time.
Oh, and she did the magic with YouTube and found my most favoritest song in the whole world, so there's that too.
Hope you'll stop by!
It's going to be a good time.
Oh, and she did the magic with YouTube and found my most favoritest song in the whole world, so there's that too.
Hope you'll stop by!
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