The Difficulties With Passions

Okay, I confess. Some days the rainbows and unicorns and shiny baubles of finally getting a publisher who wants to publish your book aren't enough. They scare away your doubt crows right enough but the bloody things keep coming back.

So what you sold six books this year? That doesn't mean readers will buy ANY of them.

You're just one of thousands trying to get people to buy your book. You'll never get noticed.

You only write boring contemporary romance and not even erotic contemporary romance at that. No one's interested in  that kind of thing.

Your characters are too left field. People won't identify with them.

Write much hotter otherwise you'll miss the 50 Shades boat.

Write something else otherwise you'll miss the 50 Shades boat.

You're missing the 50 Shades....Oh, too late. It's gone. Sucker.

These are just some of the wonderful crows that have been pecking me of late. Now I did know that everything suddenly wasn't going to get magically better upon having something accepted (I DID! It's true!). Or that I'd never have crises of confidence again. Or that things would get a hell of a lot easier. I DID know that.  It's just that, well, all the above doubts didn't really become real until your release date looms closer and you realise that following your passion and making it your profession has some unforseen difficulties. Like the stakes becoming a LOT higher and the possibility of failure that much more frightening.

Because I don't write to make a little bit of pin money to fuel my habit for antique doilies. Or because dashing off a couple of romances into between G&Ts is a good way of passing the time. Or because I can't find a real job and have to do something.

No. I write because I have to. Because I can't stop. Because after years of being a good-ish librarian, I want to be a GREAT writer. (okay, so not great as in Tolstoy/Hemingway great. Great as in 'woohoo, that was a damn good read' great. Got it? Good).

Oh yeah and I'd like to make a living from it. If that's not too much to ask.

And this is the difficulty with passions because if it doesn't come to pass, then you've got so much more to lose.

Anyway, given my personality type and my ability to worry about/over-analyse everything, I've decided that being a writer is very probably the worst thing for me to be doing. But what else can I do? It's the only thing I've ever wanted to be.

I guess the only thing to do, when the doubt crows circle, whether published or unpublished, is to keep writing more stories. Try not to let the doubts and fears and worries paralyse you. Keep looking forward, not back. *tells self*

What do you guys do with the doubts? Chocolate? Retail therapy? Alcohol???

Hiding

I know, I've been gone for a wee while. Two weeks of mad writing, closely followed by a full-on doubt spiral and crash. No reason for it, just....Well, actually, I tell a lie. The trigger was a narrow miss on finalling in a contest. Which I should NOT have got so wound up about but did. Mainly because the margin was so narrow and it would have been another opportunity to get more than the first 3 chapters of a story before an editor... Sigh. One door closes and another shuts. Story of my life...

Anyway, laying low at the moment, trying to get some inspiration back again while I battle with non-writing stuff that's getting me down. Not to mention wrestling with the continual question:

Why, oh why, do I want to be a writer again???

The Ten Percent

This was meant to be a fabulous motivational post for but since this week has been disappointing writing-wise, I've kind of lost any motivational type attitude. Not that I had much to start with.

This year has been a hell of a year. Lots of very, very hard stuff to deal with. Lots of hard work put in. Don't get me wrong, I've learned a lot and the few successes I've had have been wonderful. But the sad fact is that there aren't enough successes to balance out all the crap.

It all comes down to that ten percent. If getting published is 30% talent, 30% hard work, 30% persistence, then that last 10% is luck. And you might have all the above but if you don't strike that last 10% you may as well not bother. Now, I don't think I'm a bad writer. I have some lovely contest successes as testament to the fact that people like what I write. And also lovely comments on the chapters I've written for New Voices. I know people would like to read what I write. This year I've also put in a lot of hard work to make my stories better. Learning craft has been difficult for me, applying it even harder. But I think I've made progress. And I've been pretty persistent. I've written over 10 books in the past couple of years - some twice!

But no one will get to read them if you don't get the 10%. Luck. The right editor, the right story, the right time. Some people hit it straight away. Some people don't. Guess which group I fit into? I don't set out to write bad stories. Every time I write a story I'm wanting to blow someone's socks off. But sadly, for me, the socks have stayed firmly on. I just haven't hit that 10% yet. And the sad truth of the matter is this:  I may NEVER hit it. Because that's the beauty of luck.  

At the moment, I feel like I'm going into a casino and playing the slots. I have had a few wins to keep me going - small returns to give the illusion you're succeeding - but no jackpot. Sometimes I don't get any in a row. Sometimes three. Once, I had four. Yet I keep missing out. And I'm getting to the bottom of the change in my cup. I could go get some more of course, but my bank account is on zero. I'm a gambling addict, betting what little confidence I have in my writing on a change in luck that may never happen.

Okay, so it might change. You never know. You might give up right before it happens for you! Well, I can safely say that is not the case now. It will not be happening for me in the near future. So I could actually give up now, safe in the knowledge that for the next year at least, I wouldn't have missed out on anything.

And you know what? I just don't know if I can do another year. My change cup is empty and so is my bank account. I've written books I was so confident in I was all but writing out my sale story, only to end in rejection. I've written books that I thought would never get anywhere that have won contests. So now I can't tell what's good anymore and what isn't. My instinct has gone. The vacuum of being unpublished has sucked it all away.

I've always been an emotional girl. Up and down, that's me. Writing just makes the downs more intense because I actually care too much about this thing. And as for the ups...well, there haven't been many. I wish I could detach myself. I wish I had a hard skin and could shrug off the downs. Maybe if I'd built up to it I would have. But I started off really well so that when the downs came, my skin wasn't thick enough to cope. Still isn't.

Anyway, this is a long-winded way of saying that at the end of the year, I'm going to have to sit down and reconsider whether I want to continue doing this. True, I haven't been doing this as long as many and if you've been doing this for years, I salute you.You are incredible people and I wish I had your staying power. But I'm not sure I do. I'm not sure I can keep gambling on the ten percent.

I was so hoping that my journey would end happily. That I would have a sale story to tell. But life doesn't happen that way. No matter how much we want something, no matter how much we think we deserve it, it doesn't mean we'll get it. Sometimes - unfortunately - there is no HEA.

A Post About Rugby (No, Really)

If you had told me two weeks ago I would be writing a blog post about rugby I would have told you you were mad. I am not a ruby fan. I never watch it. I know the ball is oval, that you need to score a try to earn points and that you can earn more points by kicking a goal. I know that the big huddle of men on the field is called a scrum. But that's it. Up until yesterday, I didn't even know that the first five eight is a position, not the first man who's over 5'8. :-)

This is unheard of for a NZ'er. Especially during the World Cup. What world cup you ask? Well, the Rugby World Cup. It's kind of a big deal here because we've been hosting it (no, not me personally though I could use the $100 million or so revenue that's apparently been generated). Plus the fact that we are a really tiny country and rugby is just about the only team sport we can compete on the world stage and stand a good chance of actually winning. Which we did on Sunday night.

Now, as I said, I never watch rugby but it was difficult to get away from the final game since we were in it and we were supposed to walk all over poor, old France. In actual fact, France nearly walked all over us. I could not watch the game. Jackie, who actively dislikes rugby, could not watch it because I was too damn nervous. In fact, it was ridiculous how invested I was in this game. I played computer games while trying to ignore the howls from the living room, my little heart leaping every time there was a cheer.

What's this got to do with writing? Hang on, I'm getting there. Anyway, we finally won. By one point. And I was watching the commentary afterwards and hearing what they were saying and thinking, wow, this game is a little like writing for publication. The same nervousness (as you wait on a submission), the same grim determination to hang on when everything looks like another big rejection, the same sense of helplessness when the other team score....
And then the commentary started talking about this one, particular All Black. Two weeks earlier, Stephen Donald had been watching the cup on TV, having a beer and doing a spot of whitebaiting (fish, if you don't know what whitebait are). He wasn't in the Cup squad and had been told pretty firmly he wouldn't be either. And yet two weeks before the big final, due to injuries concerning other players, he got a couple of calls on his mobile - which he didn't answer because he was too busy with his whitebait. Eventually when he did, the news was that he had been called up onto the squad. Then on the night, after more injuries, and he was called onto the field. Then he kicked the goal that earned us the Cup. From zero to hero in two weeks.

The commentary afterwards talked a lot about Stephen Donald. About how, when you think it's all over, when the country has forgotten you, opportunities can come along and you can suddenly find yourself right in the middle of it again. That these opportunities come when you least expect them to. Apparently sport is full of these moments, but, from what I hear from other writers, writing is like this too. That right when you least expect it, when you've got your hundredth rejection, something comes round the corner that you never thought would happen.

I hope that's the case. Because right now, I'm feeling a little like Stephen Donald. I'm sitting on my couch with my beer (no whitebait though cos I hate fish. Okay and replace the beer with a martini, cos I don't like that either!). I'm watching the Cup on telly and cheering everyone else on, wishing I was there too and wondering if I've missed my chance. I hope not cos unlike Stephen Donald, I have been training really, really hard. And one thing's for certain - if the call ever comes, I won't be too busy fishing to answer it. :-)

Climbing Mt Ngauruhoe

Holidays over. Phew. And a new month, which is even better, cos July has been, quite frankly, a stinker.

Yep, you guessed it, moany post alert! I haven't had one for a while so I figure I'm due one.

Keeping going with this writing stuff hasn't got any easier I'm afraid. I've stoppped thinking of climbing Everest. I'm now thinking in terms of Ngauruhoe. This is a mountain in NZ - for all you LOTR fans out there, it's Mt Doom. Which is a very appropriate title.

Why the change? Well, with Everest if you have the right equipment and skill level, and the weather is on your side, you can get to the top. I admit that in my forays up Everest my skill wasn't great, nor my equipment the best. But then you don't know these things until you fall off. The other thing I needed was the weather but somehow or other, the right combination of skill, equipment and weather has never lined up favourably for me. However, the thing about Everest is that I mostly enjoyed climbing it.

But I'm not these days which is why it feels like I'm climbing Ngauruhoe instead. This is a mountain comprised totally of shale. Climbing it is like climbing a massive sand dune. One step up, two steps back. There's no joy in climbing it (at least, when I actually did climb it years ago, I hated every moment of it), because all you do is trudge and keep trudging. What you need to get to the top is dogged determination and the belief you can do it.

And that's what I'm struggling to find. Dogged determination and self belief. One step forward is always accompanied by two steps back. It's dispiriting.Which makes it hard to keep going. What's the point when no matter how hard you climb, you don't get any higher?

So, what do you all do when you're feeling this way? Got any tips for me? God knows I could use 'em! :-)

Trying to Get Back Up Again

Well, I did think I would do a few more posts than this but my inspiration to write continues to go up and down like a lady of the night's underpants. Plus, my direction and confidence are wavering all over the place. It's frustrating. The worst part is not having anything else out there. If you haven't got anything on submission, it's like there isn't any hope and I hate that.

I do actually have a good many finished mss all stacked up on my harddrive but they all suffer from the same problem - chronic lack of coherent conflict. Yes, it's a medical condition. Incurable. Or given that the course of treatment is rewriting them completely, pretty much incurable. Am I being too hard on myself about them? Possibly. But I don't want to send anything that I'm not happy with. True, I'll always have doubts with whatever I send, but when I can see glaring faults, I just can't do it.

So what I'm left with is starting something new or rewriting. And at the moment, I am too daunted to do either. It all feels too hard. Especially writing plain old contemporary romance. Category makes this easy because that's all they publish. But if you don't write category or paranormal, or urban fantasy, or steampunk, or erotica, or suspense, how do you make your contemporary romance different to eveyone elses? Do publishers even want plain old contemporary, internal conflict driven romance? Or do you have to put a spin on it?

Sigh. Some days it's easier just to take to one's bed and eat chocolate. Happy Easter everyone.

Dark Night of the Soul

Hey everyone, back again from holiday. But unfortunately coming back to a bit of a downer so excuse the ranty post. Heard from the ed while I was away and although it was a very nice, long email, it was full of all the things I'm doing wrong and not much about what I'm doing right. And actually, not sure there's anything I'm doing right at the moment. My major problem seems to be characters that aren't instantly understandable and relateable, and thus are unsympathetic. Big yays for me.

I seem to like characters that act too much like real people, with all their sad, stupid flaws, rather than aspirational characters that are flawed but ultimately act in more sympathetic ways than real people ever do. This is not bad, by the way, simply one of the requirements of the genre. Because, really, when you read romance, you do not want to read about everyday people being dumb. You want to read about fundatmentally good people who come to see the error of their ways and do the right thing in the end. Not that my characters don't do that, it's just they're not as instantly understandable as the category requires.

So, here I am, working on my synopsis for my next sub, wondering if I've made my characters too complicated again, whether they're instantly understandable, whether they're acting in extreme ways, is there too much sexual tension, is there not enough, is this even worth submitting because it's obviously a huge load of crap... Should I give up this stupid writing thing and take up macrame instead.

Sigh. I should add that in fact, there was one thing I'm okay at and that seems to be emotional scenes. Though since they don't tend to come along until a bit later in the story and as I've had two partials rejected, I haven't even had a chance to show those off of late either.

So there you have it. Welcome home, Jackie.

And no, there was no mention of my NV entry. Everyone else seemed to like it so I'm not sure what the problem with it was. No doubt something I haven't even scratched the surface of yet, that will lead to undiscovered new territories of rejection potential...

Climbing Everest

I've been thinking about how tough this business is the past couple weeks - while I've been waiting unsurprisingly - and wondering at what point people give up. Is it worth the constant feeling of impatience? The feeling of sickness when you download your email in the morning? The disappointment when there is no answer yet again? And then building up to it all over again the next day?
This morning I was doubting it was worth it. Because surely all this stress and doubt isn't good for you. It's certainly been a killer for my inspiration and creativity.

And then also this morning, as I was trying to figure out whether to keep going or not, I happened to have a good talk to a very wise friend of mine. This friend does a lot of hiking and climbing and he told me about a NZ climber he knew who nearly got to the top of Everest but experienced a disaster when a storm hit him and his climbing partner. His partner died and he lost all half his foot and lots of fingers to frostbite. Apparently this climber, after coming back down from Everest, descended into bad depression, alcoholism and nearly took his own life. But he was a strong guy and pulled himself back from the edge, got fit again, and went back to climbing mountains because that's what he loved to do. This is, I know, in no way, shape or form akin to writing. I'm not going to die if I don't get published and I certainly won't lose a limb waiting in the slush (except my mind maybe!). But it struck a chord with me because this journey certainly feels, in many ways, like climbing Everest. What makes it worse is that I nearly got to the top once, only to be turned back before summitting. And the hell of it is, when you get turned back, you know that the only way to get back up there is by climbing the whole bl**dy thing again. There are no quick routes. There is no helicopter to get you part way up. You've got to start climbing - again! - from the very bottom.

The thing about this NZ climber that really struck me though - and this is true for most climbers - was his mental toughness. He lost so much and yet pulled himself out of the darkness and got back out there because climbing is what he loved to do. How much discipline and determination would that take?
My point with this is that if this is what I want, I'm going to have to cultivate a bit of mental toughness myself. And I have to remind myself that the thing about climbing Everest is that with every ascent, you learn more about the route you're climbing, the weather, the dangers, and perhaps a few good handholds here and there. You're more prepared for the journey. And you're more determined - you're not going to let that mountain beat you. It's that preparation and that determination that will - hopefully - get you to the top.

Getting published has been a dream since I was little, and it's been two years since I've been actively pursuing this dream. And it's hard work. Really hard work. Everest is the world's highest mountain and it's a b*tch to climb. I've had to start from the bottom five times - and it's worse now than it was because now I know how hard it is and how long it takes. But I am tough. I will keep climbing. And I really hope that the view from the summit is worth it.

Alrighty, that was a very long-winded analogy wasn't it? Don't mind me, this is an extended pep-talk to myself but if it helps any of you then that's all good. If anyone else is climbing Everest and needs a hand, I'm here. I've got ropes, oxygen for when we get really high, and lots of freeze-dried food.

Oh, and lots of chocolate. :-)

Vent of the Month Plus the Adventures of Hoo the Incredible Blue Octopus

I'm trying to get into writing my Naughty Frenchman but I have to say, I'm having a 'what's the point' week. The waiting is killing me - it always does - and even though I have lots of stories in the works, I'm feeling a bit directionless. I always get a bit like this as things drag on - usually just after submitting I'm fine for a few weeks and then doubts etc start to kick in. Targetting only one line does mean that you can't do anything else but write while you're waiting, and yes, writing IS the thing to do, but I can't help feeling that while it drags on I'm kind of standing still.

At my last RWNZ meeting, people asked me how I was getting on and one person said to me, 'oh, but you're nearly there aren't you?'. Thing is, I've been 'nearly there' for a whole year now. And in fact, there is no such thing as 'nearly there'. You're either there or you're not. As the lovely Karina Bliss told me, it's like being pregnant. You can't be nearly pregnant, you either are or you're not. I'm not.

It does not help that Dr Jax is currently gallivanting around Acapulco at a conference while I am at home with the kids. Not that I mind the kids (most of the time), it's just that I'd rather be the one at Acapulco! Unfortunately my place with Dr Jax has been usurped by a small, blue, stuffed octopus called Hoo. My daughter gave him the toy to keep him company and so far, the wretched thing has seen way more of Acapulco than it has any right to. Witness these pictures.

So, while my husband and a tiny blue octopus are having fun in sunny Acapulco, I shall while away the time trying to write Chapter 1 of the Frenchman for the fifth time (yes, it's taking me that long to get it right! Grrr).

Oh yes, and NTAI.

Anyone else finding the NTAI hard at the moment?

Riding the Rollercoaster

Hmmm, despite my happy 'I love rejections' post, the crows of doubt have come to roost again. Par for the course. No surprises there. To be honest, the constant ups and downs are very tiring. It does tend to be my personality (hello! Gemini!) but I have been kind of thinking, 'do I need stress like this in my life?'. At the very beginning of the year I did tell my husband that I wished I'd never started submitting. That the whole rollercoaster ride was getting a bit much for me.

Then again, I guess that's the hazard when you go after your dreams. It's going to be tough and disappointing, and you will wonder why on earth you thought it was a good idea. Especially when your goal is just as far off as it ever was.

Anyway, this is not a play for sympathy or anything, just a little vent. Sunday morning musings. I am trying to resist the urge to reread my partial, just to make sure I'm as happy with it now as I was when I sent it off but that way lies madness. I have finished the full and the basic conflict seemed to hang together okay which is a good sign but you just never know.

Oh well, will stop moaning. How's everyone else doing? What do you do when the rollercoaster gets too much for you?

Submission Doubt

I've put up my scarecrow again because I've got submission doubt and need something to scare away the crows.
These are particularly ornery ones I have to say. It wasn't so bad the first time around because I was just so pleased to have had a full request. And true, the first lot of revisions were pretty intense but then, woohoo, I'd made it to the full-with-revisions stage and that was a great achievement.

But now I'm starting over and I'm wondering if I can do it again. Published authors must get this when it's time to submit that second book and you have to prove that the first one was more than a fluke. Obviously I'm not at that stage yet but the full-with-revisions is a pretty high benchmark to have to repeat. What if I can't? What if they don't like the story? I think it's better than my rejected manuscript - I've learned so much since then - but what if I've missed something vital?

Well, as Michelle S told me, the only thing I can control is the writing. I have to trust that it's a good story and hope that they'll want to see the rest of it. So I shall, which is why I'm continuing with writing the rest of it. And if it isn't then ONE of my stories will get there. I'm damn well going to make certain of it.

I'd just like to say a big thanks at this point to all the lovely people who visit my sorry blog, and to all the other lovely people on the eHarlequin and Mills and Boon forums who have wished me luck. You guys are the best. Determination gets you a long way in this business but it certainly helps having other people being determined with you. So, thanks.

Anyway, I have had confirmation that my partial was received so it's on with the waiting. And the NTAI. :-)

PS. Did you know that the guidelines for Mills and Boon have been updated? Here they are here.