Onward to the Lost Planet

Yesterday I wasn’t in the mood to write.  Yes, I know:  it always seems as if I’m in the mood to write, but that’s not always true.  Yesterday was one of those days when the words were stuck in the back of my mind, and the urge to get them out on a page was ranking somewhere below scrubbing the sleep from my eyes.

It happens.  You get off somewhere in the ether, you find your mind wandering to other things, other stories, and the urge to write sort of vanishes.  With the things that have been happening to me the last couple of weeks I don’t find it all that unusual that getting back into my stories has been a bit difficult.

I sort of found myself putting around, therefore, and when I came time to get into Fantasies in Harmonie, it was a tough slog.  Write a little, then a distraction.  Write a little, then I’d see something shiny.  Write a little, then think of another story to work on.

On and on, into the night it went.

Here’s the thing, thought:  I kept writing.  Though I didn’t feel like writing, I kept at the story.  I’d do a paragraph, then something else for a few minutes, then back in to do two or three paragraphs.  Though there wasn’t any grand “Write Like a Madwoman for Hours” feel, it kept going–

Until I finally reached a point where I said, “It’s late, and this seems like a good place to stop the story.”  Once I checked out what I’d written for the night, the final word count was almost twelve hundred words.  As I told some people later, it wasn’t bad for someone who wasn’t in the mood to write.

I want to get back into the swing of writing like I mean it.  Sure, it sounds like I’m working hard, but the last year has seen me struggling through my writing.  A year of steady writing, and it seems like I have to kick myself in the butt to get it going.  I could point to several things happening in my life that make it that way, but a big part is that I’m wanting a lot, and I’m not getting there the way I want to get there.  I want it all, and I want it now.

I’m being impatient.

I’m looking for that lost planet, the one called Success, the one that says, “Okay, you can write, and you can even enjoy it, and you can spend the rest of your life doing it, and you won’t have to worry about editors and ISBNs and publication platforms.  We gotcha covered, chickie.”  And I get up in the morning and pull up my Scrivener files, and I drink my coffee and look over what it is I want to do for the day–

And I write.

That planet is out there; I just have to find the place.  It would help if my ship were ready to go–

Maybe I should write on up.

Countdown to Expectancy

Blogging, Blender, Scrivener . . . wait, that’s not right.  If only there were something I could use for my writing, then I’d get the Three B’s alliteration, and I’d have a great start to the day.

That was pretty much my yesterday.  Knocked off my blog posts–which went very well–and then editing Replacements, breezing through the penultimate chapter.  I have one more to edit, then one, maybe two, to write, and that story is a wrap. At least for the first edit.  I’ll give the story a better pass through later, and start looking at what I could do as far as a cover is concerned.  Maybe by that time I’ll have this 3D scene stuff down, and I can start working on covers.

One can only dream.

I was tripping through my author’s page the other day, and saw the milestone I placed there for Her Demonic Majesty.  Novel was submitting for consideration on 9 October, 2012.  It’s now, as I writing this, 16 December, and the time is slowly running out.  Given those thirty-one days in a couple of months, I’ve said that if by the end of 12 January, 2013, I haven’t received a reply from Harper Voyager, I’m not getting one.

Ninety Day Hath Submission; Sorry, Babe, But You Ain’t Winnin’.

You’re not suppose to think these things.  You’re suppose to think that by the end of November you’re going to wake up and find a message in your inbox saying that your novel was one of several that were picked for ebook publication–oh, and congratulations!  That’s what you’re suppose to keep thinking; that this is the time I make the big time.

I have a friend over in Second Life.  She’s a therapist, which I didn’t know until about a year ago.  Here I was in that virtual world all this time, and she’s probably analyzing me the whole time.  Not really, but it’s fun to imagine . . .

Anyway, she’s always on me about going the self-publishing route.  She tells me that the reason I’m so eager to get published by an “established house,” is that I’m looking for recognition from someone who I imagine as being a member of an elite community, and this badge will signify that I have “succeeded”.

To a certain extent, she’s right.

Let us face the fact:  just about anyone can self-publish these days.  Ten years ago stories about daughter-stepfather trysts, college girls addicted to giving their instructors–male or female–oral sex, and women being gang-fucked by werewolves would have ended up on various website catering to those particular interests; these days they end up on Smashwords and/or Amazon.

There’s nothing wrong with any of the above–hey, you should see what my first story sale was–but for some writers, it’s does make them feel as if their accomplishments are rendered small because, when they see their book appear on a list of  recommended reading, their science fiction epic is sharing space with a story about a bored housewife who’s used witchcraft to take over her son’s body because she has a fantasy about impregnating his college-aged girlfriend.

Definitely doesn’t feel the same as finding your novel on the shelf next to William Gibson.

The thing is, we need to step beyond this belief.  The real recognition comes from people who by your stories, and better yet, enjoy them.  Even if Harper Voyager were to pick up my novel, does that mean it’ll sell?  Maybe.  The HV deals indicates they’ll edit and format and put up your ebook, and give it a few shots of publicity.  None of this guaranties sales–it just pats your ego on the head and tells you that, yeah baby, you’re there.

But if a book sees the light of day, and yet is never read, does that mean it was really published?

Talk to me in a few weeks and maybe I’ll have this figured out by then.