One Year On

One year ago today, I woke up with an idea in my head and frantically typed 5,000 words of a story that would become THE TRAVELERS.

That day, I thought a lot of things about my writing self.

I thought that writing was some silly endeavor I had to try to get out of my system.
I didn't know that writing was something absolutely ingrained in me, desperate to be let free.

I thought that those 5,000 words were captivating, stunning, AWESOME.
I didn't know that they weren't (but I'd learn to make them better.)

I thought that I'd just write this one book and be done with it.
I didn't know I'd write this book, then write another one, then dream up the skeleton for a third, before the year was out.

I thought there was no way I'd ever show my book to anyone.
I didn't know that the handful of people I ended up showing my book to would become absolute lifelines for me, writing and otherwise, and very dear friends.

I thought that, when those people gave me constructive criticism, I would curl up in a ball and die.
I didn't know that the critique-and-revision stage would turn out to be my absolute most favorite part of the whole process.

I thought that writing and blogging about it would make me even more disconnected than I already planned to be.
I didn't know that so so many of you would find my little blog, like reading what I have to say, and support me along the rocky road that I've only just started out on. (Hi, followers! I really do love each and every one of you.)

I thought that writing was ridiculous because it didn't match up with all the career goals I'd had (and achieved!) before.
I didn't know that becoming an author was a dream living deep inside me that I never knew I had.


I thought that all writing this book would accomplish was losing me sleep and buoying me through a tough year.
I didn't know writing would become part of how I think, the way I look at the world, and who I am.

And, just because you might be wondering....

I thought my book would suck.
It doesn't.


Oh! And those five thousand words? Only one sentence out of them survived to make it to the manuscript I'm querying now. (Yeah. I had a lot to learn.) But that sentence, still perfectly intact, is one of my favorites in the whole book - and looking on my first notes dated one year ago today, I know it was in me from the very beginning:

Could it be possible to belong to someone she had never met?

So, even though I was hating on Past Me something fierce on Monday, today, on my one-year-writerversary, I want to give Past Me a great big hug. She's absolutely changed my life.

Your turn! Tell me what reflections and revelations you've had on your writerversaries. Can't wait to tear up at all your sweet stories.

Wishing for a Writer's Deus Ex Machina

I don't know when to quit. With this book, anyway.

I wish there was some mechanism, a whooping alarm or a decisive trap door or something, that would sound off when I've sent my last query on THE TRAVELERS. You know, the last one I should reasonably send. Before I go into delusional writer's territory, querying a book that will Just Never Make It.

I know all the inspirational stories. Everyone rejected J.K. Rowling. Brodi Ashton queried a hundred agents. Elana Johnson queried 188 (one hundred and eighty-eight!) before she found her agent.

But maybe (probably) I'm not Brodi Ashton or Elana Johnson. Maybe I'm not talented enough. Or my first novel is too first-novelish. Or people don't care if the main character gets fed through a woodchipper.

I went through all the things listed in this post for how to tell if it's time to put your novel away, and I thought they maybe applied to TT. But I didn't know if I really felt that way, or if it was rejection-based disappointment flapping its jaw.

So when do I give up? When does this novel get lovingly wrapped in paper and stuffed in a drawer?

How did Beth Revis, who has NINE drawer-novels, know when to put each of them away?

In the lowest of the query trenches (form rejections on my subs!) the answer felt like, "Right now, you idiot, how could you have even thought you should query this piece of garbage?"

This sign would have helped. Maybe a good business to market to writers?

So, I tried to declare my own Deus Ex Machina (yes, I'm aware that's the opposite of how it works. Shut up.) And I said that if my project wasn't pulled for the next round of the Miss Snark's First Victim Baker's Dozen Auction, I'd put it on the shelf, forget about it for now, and pour myself fully into ONE. It had a 10% chance of being pulled from contest slush, so I thought it would at least be a definitive "yes" or "no." (I want to say very clearly for the record that all my CPs thought that this idea was completely moronic.)


And then a crazy thing happened. The ladies doing the choosing pulled TT from the slush and decided to put it on the auction block. There went my big plan for knowing for sure when to quit. The auction goes live to crit on Friday and to agents on Tuesday, and it just might be the big opportunity for me that it was for these ladies last year.

It's a funny thing, writing these projects we love. The littlest thing can get us down, make us want to host a manuscript-based bonfire party. But then something else can bring us right back to loving our manuscript, and save it from a future in the drawer for another week, or another month.

And the only thing we know for certain is that nothing about this business is easy - not even knowing when to quit.


Have you ever drawered a project? How did you know when it was time? Were you as much of a drama queen about it as I've been?

How Critiquing Has Transformed Me as a Writer

Hi there! If you happen to be Mr. Michael Bourret, agent extraordinaire, please click over here to read all about how your incredible client, Brodi Ashton, gave the unflappable Gina (and me, too!) full-on permission to 'stalk' you. I promise, Gina and her manuscript are worth your while.


 When it was time for betas to look at my work, I have to admit, I felt a little stressed. See, betas, or critique partners, typically trade work. That means each of them spends and hours  (well, good ones, anyway)  reading and brainstorming and nitpicking and scrutinizing work that isn't theirs.

So, on top of the rearranging and compromising and ignoring the housework I ALREADY do in order to write my own darn book, I have to somehow squeeze out *more* time for critiquing someone else's book? In the case of Gina's book, it turned out to be a few hours a week, no small potatoes when you have a day job. Normal critiques - like the one she had to slog through with THE TRAVELERS - probably took much more time.

My husband asked me why me and critique partners were willing to put hours and hours worth of computer time, and agonizing, and franticallly emailing and rewriting and REreading (Gina has read so many versions of the same three things, it makes me crazy for her. In a few ways.) on a book that isn't ours.

I shrugged and said, "That's what we do."
An awesome critique pair is just two people who really understand that writing, and writing good stories well, is essential to the soul. Each wants their work to be torn apart by someone else so that we can build it up to be better.

It took me awhile, though, to realize that while Gina was definitely making me a better writer, but that critiquing Gina's stuff was also doing SO much for improving my subsequent revisions and, ultimately, my new WIP.

Critiquing someone else's work:

• Helped me learn how to plot and pace. With fresh eyes on a new story, one that didn't already exist, perfect, in my own head, I was really able to analyze what happened, when, and how quickly, and recognize when one of my own darlings was slowing down the plot in my own book too much, or just not serving a purpose.
• Got me to fall in love with characters in a different way.  Of course, I didn't write Gina's characters, but I was working so hard to make sure their story was told in the best way possible that I wanted their characterization to be solid. Everything from the way they moved and smiled to the words that came out of their mouths had to fit my ideal vision of them, and taught me to be mindful of whether my characters were doing the same.
• Taught me to look for things like rhythm, sound, feel, and VOICE . Again, since I didn't already have Gina's book in my head, I read a lot of stuff out loud to see how it sounded, how it flowed. Soon after, guess what? I started doing it on my own stuff, now even as I'm drafting.
• Gave me an absolutely ruthless eagle eye for: passive voice, repetitive sentence structure and word choice, purple prose, unclear phrasing, run-on sentences, etc. Not because Gina uses very much of that at ALL, but because it was partly my job to eradicate it, as she so kindly did so many dozens of times for me. Ahem. I mean, hundreds. (Oh, God, sorry Gina.) 
• Showed me that criticism does not equal doom, and in fact, if you have a good CP, it is a gateway to being held up and cheered on. For example: That time Gina made me rewrite and then re-rewrite that scene? Check out the email she sent me when I finally nailed it:

(Yeah, I framed that sucker in scrapbook paper and hung it above my desk)

Last, but most importantly, critiquing made me a cheerleader for another soul who's trying so, so hard to make it in a really tough industry. When you've been through so many ups and downs connected to something so close to your heart, and you know your crit partner truly loves your book (even if she doesn't love Davis) and believes it it almost as much as you do, there's a strange sort of friendship that forms. You know she'll read your query letter twenty times, or cheer you on in contests that she's entered too, or answer the same neurotic email, with slightly different wording, over and over again. It's a friendship that knows that the best gift ever is a book by a real live person who struggled as much as you are now, and a handwritten note of encouragement for your inspiration wall.

(Yes, Gina did write on the inside of the card, but I'm going to hold off on showing you that till we're both published. You're going to die. And then I'll auction it off for charity, because I'm awesome like that.)
(Hey, a girl can dream, right?)

And that? Is worth every. single. hour.

Photo Credit: Mike Stimpson 2010 via Creative Commons License. Thanks, Mike!