Friday, September 28, 2012

Inspiration

The little incidents in everyday life often bring with them vast opportunities for inspiration. A trip to the grocery store, to the dentist, or to the doctor's office for a check-up, while mundane activities in and of themselves, carry the possibility for a multitude of little scenarios that may turn into a poignant moment, a thrilling chapter, or serve as the basis for an entire book. Let me explain.

For me, inspiration rarely strikes in front of my computer. Nor does it bloom while in the throes of a tense or frustrating moment, although I'm learning as I grow older that if I can just keep my head from exploding in the face of laziness and/or incompetence, I can usually glean a nugget of insight that will serve me well later.

A Solitary Life began after a trip to the local post office to mail a book to my daughter--and to buy stamps. That was the day I learned that priority mail is pretty much the only option left to me to mail anything anywhere and is, in fact, about three cents cheaper than putting my package on a stage coach bound for the hinterlands that will take almost twice as long to arrive at its destination. So I mailed my package priority, which required a lot of writing and stamping and stamping and stamping. And, by the way, I said to the clerk as she stamped, I need stamps. Now, I have no preference when it comes to the stamps I will affix on the envelopes I use to pay the man who mows my yard. I'm sure that a plain brown Liberty Bell is as handy and efficient as a majestic aerie of eagles. But that day, I was offered the opportunity to buy Cherry Blossoms (!) and (?) which were produced and laid on the counter for my inspection with the same flourish that a street peddler might use to flash a display of fake Rolexes from the inside flap of his coat. "Don't tell _____ we have these," the clerk whispered to her co-worker. "He'll sell them to just anyone." I bought the stamps and left perplexed and confused but happy. I knew this little scenario would serve me well and it did when Mary Margaret made her appearance the next day. Her story started with the reading of my horoscope and quickly moved to the post office scenario, a mundane moment that gave me joy in writing about it.

A conversation with one of my daughters, a snarky remark from my son, a frustrating moment in traffic, or a funny incident at the library are all opportunities for inspiration. Sometimes I make a note to myself so that I won't forget or write a longer description of the incident in my journal. Mostly, though, the memories come to me as my characters develop on the page and find themselves in similar situations. As I spend more time writing, I am finding simple joy in frustrating moments. It helps to remind myself that I am a writer, that I have the ability to channel my frustrations and turn them into bittersweet or illuminating vignettes later. In fact, I can't wait to see where yesterday's insurance debacle at the doctor's office takes me.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

In the beginning. . .

Writing has always been an integral part of my life. No matter where I've lived or what I was doing, writing has been a constant. I've been a student, an editorial assistant, and a ghostwriter (I've also worn many, many other hats); I've written short stories, poetry, essays, and novels; I'm a reader and an editor and a life-long learner. And now, I am an author.

I've recently come to discover that being a writer is not the same thing as being an author, and being an author is not necessarily the same thing as being a writer. There is a subtle difference that's difficult to put my finger on. I just know that when I published my first novel through Create Space and uploaded my manuscript to Kindle, something shifted in me. The writer became the author and my responsibilities changed as did my perspective on what having a book out there in the universe means.

It was hard letting Ripple go. I had no such trouble with Minshew the Dragon Dog or Thunder which were published at the same time. Launching Ripple, however, felt like I had lopped off a part of me and set it adrift on a barge to risk rapids or flaming arrows or even worse, dead calm. I had put a part of me out there to be picked clean or to be cherished or to be (please God) read. And then I waited. And I'm still waiting.

The next book jumped into my head pretty quickly. In fact, I've written two more novels since publishing Ripple last December. The first, The Plan, is a zombie thriller written specifically with my youngest daughter in mind. Her love of all things creepy and Scottish presented a challenge that I was happy to take on. (I'm still editing and hope to have a final product by Christmas.) And then Mary Margaret made her presence known and I wrote her story in A Solitary Life over the course of three weeks in late April and early May. This time, I recruited editorial and design assistance to put some polish on my ideas and to help me make that subtle shift from writer to author once again. A Solitary Life will go live on Kindle and Amazon.com on October 1.

Sometimes I think it's difficult to wear both hats at once: writer and author. For me, being a writer means countless hours sitting at my computer while the words flow and tumble. Being an author means hauling out the map and navigating unfamiliar terrain, meeting new people, and talking. As a writer, I can let my characters speak through me while I drink coffee and type. As an author, I have to speak for myself and my work and I have to have a plan for my books' journeys out in the world. And then eventually, I just have to let go and hope that I have set them on the right path. That's the hard part for me, letting go. Perhaps if I had a publisher, seeing them off would be easier, knowing that they are being chaperoned by a caring soul. But I'm trying to find another way to do this, to be a happy writer and a successful author. I'll let you know how that goes.