Winging it today, because I’ve tried three different openings and none of them stuck. I was going to blog about pens, but I’m waiting on that one until the ink cartridges I ordered arrive. They were due yesterday, so my optimistic side want to say they should be here any day now, and my pessimistic side wants to know when they’re going to get here already. The there’s the suspicious side that wonders if the mail carrier put them in our neighbor’s box instead (I’ve had the pen I ordered at the same time for over a week now) by mistake. Odds are fifty-fifty that I will find them on my doorstep when I arrive home.
Today, I ran a scene from Her Last First Kiss by Critique Partner Vicki, and got back the tough-but-useful sort of response that first stings, but, dangit, does make things better. So, I’ve been doing that, and I like this angle better than what I’d originally had, which may be why it’s harder to come out of the story space to write a blog entry. These things happen. It’s not that I mind, exactly, (the redoing of a scene, that is; I do mind waiting for the ink cartridges, because I am a newly converted fountain pen lover and I want to play with my inky toys, dagnabit) but that, sometimes, getting to The End of a book feels very far away while firmly in The Middle.
Breaking things down into manageable bites helps. All I need to do is focus on one scene at a time, and put them all together in my bullet point draft. It’s messy-ish, may not make sense to people who are not me (or Critique Partner Vicki; N has yet to see one of my bullet point drafts, so we will see how that goes. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other, and we get there. That’s how it works. I’m not nervous about Never Having Another Book Released Ever Again, because that’s not the issue. There will be a next book. There will be next books, plural. I got this. I’ve written books before, I’m writing books now, and will be writing books in the future. I got this. If I don’t find the right fit in traditional publishing, I can go the indie route, and I don’t have to please Every Reader Ever (pretty sure that’s not even possible) – only my readers, so that’s a lot of pressure off, right there.
Finding my readers, well, there’s a thing we can talk about if we want. In publishing years, I’m basically
dead starting fresh, it’s been that long since my last release. Life will do that sometimes, and even in the times when I feel like it might be easier to just stay down, as it were, the stories don’t stop coming, the desire to see them published doesn’t go away, so okay. This is what I’m doing. The stories are going to be told. The books are going to happen. That’s not the question here. I certainly hope that readers who like my blog and my articles and other posts would like my fiction as well.
Some won’t, and that’s fine. As the late Eugenia Price once said, not every writer can please every reader; that’s why there are so many of us. There’s a lot of truth there, and it helps keep things in perspective. It’s not an “if” in my mind, but a “when.” When the draft is done. When the next draft is done. When the book goes out in the world, to meet a nice publisher and make beautiful book babies, or stride boldly into the teeming throngs on its own, seeking readers where it may find them.
My goal, when I began this iteration of Typing With Wet Nails, was to be honest about the writing experience. It’s rough sometimes, fun other times, sometimes both at once, and every point in between. It’s not something I can put down or turn off (I’ve tried; it did not go well.) It’s something I am. These are the stories I have to tell, and they are the stories that are going to get out of my head and into the hands of readers. Every step in that direction is progress. Including this one.