About five years ago I wrote a science thriller. It had a lot of sex in it. I sent it off to agents and was stoked when two really, really famous agents (and dozens of regular agents) agreed to look at the manuscript. The famous ones even gave me some valuable advice--along with their rejections. I was flattered and grateful. Ultimately nobody wanted to represent me, though. All except for the one lady who offered me representation halfway through reading the book. When she finished the novel, she said, "never mind".
Over the years I've been trying to make the book less of a "never mind". I started by reading and analyzing a bunch of science-type thrillers. I deleted a lot of the sex (sadly). Then I devised a mystical Dan Brown type subplot (not involving the Vatican or the Masons, thank you). I also toughened up my female protagonist. I finally finished refining the final draft of this lean and action-packed novel a few weeks ago.
When I'm close to finishing a story, I always have a recurring dream. I dream about packing stuff into boxes. In real life, filling up boxes for a move is an exhausting pain in the ass. But my packing dreams are anticipatory, pleasurable--a metaphor for the excitement of moving on to another project.
Unfortunately, this time, my packing dream was premature. When I collected all the chapters, and did a word count of my thriller, I discovered it was only 66,000 words! That's way too short for a modern thriller. I tried to tell myself a short novel was okay. After all, Michael Crichton's debut, The Andromeda Strain was 66,000 words too.
It's a bad idea for a writer to make up excuses for why it's okay to buck trends, or to compare oneself to some long-time, bestselling author. So after a day-long delusion, I gave up on pretending I was the new Crichton. It's back to the computer to bulk up my novel. I'll invent a few more characters, add a bit of fluff. I'm hoping to finish up my thriller in the next couple of weeks.
Then I'll return to writing some sexy (and short) BDSM novellas. I can't wait!
Extreme Writer's Block
I suppose most writers have trouble writing now and again. I've blogged about some small cures for writer's block. I'm blocked sometimes. I get sick of rewriting and rewriting and rewriting, or life gets in the way. Often it's just laziness and aversion to pain. Like most writers, I push through. But some folks just can't. I have two acquaintances like that.
I know a woman who planned to write an autobiography. She had an extraordinary past, well worth reading about. She proudly told her children she was writing the book for them. She collected files and created a special room to write in. But she didn't write. Decades after making the choice to be a writer, her files and special room stand dusty and unused. She tells her children she has writer's block.
And then there's a man who tells his family he's going to write a travel book about certain sacred religious sites being destroyed by parking lot style progress. It's an important and controversial project. His family is in awe. They call it "His Book"--in caps. He quit his job to spend three years exploring these holy places. And three years after that? Not one word on a page. He also says he has writer's block.
Given that I get a lesser form of the malady, you'd think I'd be sympathetic. But I'm not. These folks are trying to collect on prestige they aren't entitled to. It's a form of narcissism. How long can a writer have writer's block before they shouldn't call themselves a writer? I'm not sure. But it's not years. It's not decades. If writer's block is so severe that it's paralyzing, then do something else! Don't call yourself a writer. There are plenty of other, easier ways to be creative or to give life meaning. The supposed status of being a writer comes with a high price. The actual work is often tedious and hard (and rejected).
Grandiose delusion from fake achievement bugs me. It's commonplace, though. Like when folks say they have a master's degree--having done everything but the thesis. Huh? Isn't writing the thesis important? Isn't that proof of successful study? Hey, if the actual thesis is irrelevant, I want me some admiration for being an Olympic-quality sprinter. I've got everything but the speed.
Best wishes for the new year!
I know a woman who planned to write an autobiography. She had an extraordinary past, well worth reading about. She proudly told her children she was writing the book for them. She collected files and created a special room to write in. But she didn't write. Decades after making the choice to be a writer, her files and special room stand dusty and unused. She tells her children she has writer's block.
And then there's a man who tells his family he's going to write a travel book about certain sacred religious sites being destroyed by parking lot style progress. It's an important and controversial project. His family is in awe. They call it "His Book"--in caps. He quit his job to spend three years exploring these holy places. And three years after that? Not one word on a page. He also says he has writer's block.
Given that I get a lesser form of the malady, you'd think I'd be sympathetic. But I'm not. These folks are trying to collect on prestige they aren't entitled to. It's a form of narcissism. How long can a writer have writer's block before they shouldn't call themselves a writer? I'm not sure. But it's not years. It's not decades. If writer's block is so severe that it's paralyzing, then do something else! Don't call yourself a writer. There are plenty of other, easier ways to be creative or to give life meaning. The supposed status of being a writer comes with a high price. The actual work is often tedious and hard (and rejected).
Grandiose delusion from fake achievement bugs me. It's commonplace, though. Like when folks say they have a master's degree--having done everything but the thesis. Huh? Isn't writing the thesis important? Isn't that proof of successful study? Hey, if the actual thesis is irrelevant, I want me some admiration for being an Olympic-quality sprinter. I've got everything but the speed.
Best wishes for the new year!
New Ebook Publishing Partnership: Cosmo Red Hot Reads from Harlequin
Harlequin and
Cosmopolitan magazine have just announced a new partnership to publish novella-length eBooks. Called Cosmo Red Hot Reads
from Harlequin, this digital first series will launch May 2013.
Red Hot Reads is actively looking for authors who can write the Cosmopolitan fun, fearless female sensibility in a contemporary sexy romance.
Writing guidelines can be found at www.harlequin.com/harlequincosmo.
Red Hot Reads is actively looking for authors who can write the Cosmopolitan fun, fearless female sensibility in a contemporary sexy romance.
Writing guidelines can be found at www.harlequin.com/harlequincosmo.
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