I have discovered the joys of networking. Among my new "friends on Facebook, I have established authors, spoken word artist, aspiring writers and book reviewers. Writers from every genre have graciously allowed me to become a fly on their walls. I even picked up my very own "Literary Fairy God-Mother". A professional editor who read a brief prologue of mine and helped me to tweak it. Gotta love a woman who with a few minor edits makes me better.
There is so much more to this writing gig than just typing words into the computer.
What I've learned this week:
Since I started sharing about my literary aspiration, quite a few of my friends have come out of the closet. A guy I went to high school with is an independent author. He utilizes both print and e-publishing. Another friend, who is an accountant, clued me into the fact that she had self-published a book years ago and would like to get back into writing. Still, another friend shared that she was not a writer, but her 13yo daughter was already showing signs of being a wordsmith. I love it. If I can help someone else to feed their creative soul with words, I can justify every breath I take.
Also learned that many established writers are willing and eager to offer advice and encouragement. I don't want to become a cyber stalker, so I tend to just write little notes when someone accepts my friend request. In response, I have received a fair number of commercial posts to buy this book or that. But I have also received personal words of support. I can't tell you how thrilling it is to read a post from someone whose book is sitting on your shelf. Those post, somehow, make me feel one step closer to making my dream a reality.
I think my favorite new friends are the pre-published authors. More than anyone else...we understand each other. Non-writers watch in fascination as we agonize with finding just the right words to breath life into our characters. Established writers can become so jaded that they forget the hunger. But another writer who is just beginning to work up the courage to share their words with others...gets it. I don't know if there will ever come a time when I look at a book contrast with bored disdain. But I doubt, for a writer, if anything can compare to the rush of that first book deal.
Finally, I'm learning that all e-publishing is not created equal. To be honest. I never thought about submitting to an e-publishers. In my mind, I kinda classified them as a step sib to "real book publishing". I couldn't have been more wrong. Not only is e-publishing a million dollar industry, but for some genre, it is the ONLY option. For someone like me, who wants to introduce paranormal plots that have a little more flavor than True Blood or Twilight, e-publishing may even be the best choice.
One of my mentors sent me a comparison chart of some of the major e-publishers. Reputable companies aren't too much different that print publishers. The process of sifting the gold from the dross is pretty much the same. On the other hand, there are companies that allow a writer to sell their work, no matter how poorly written, without external review. It might be nice to have an ebook to sell to family and friends, but even with a small readership, my pride would want a fresh set of eyes to evaluate my work. Hell, my name is on that book. I want to be published, but I also want to be remember. And not for putting out second-rate trash.
Dak and Elise got pushed to the side this week. PortiadeMoncur.com should be online in the next week or so. I'm working the last edits on a series of shorts that I'll offer online. As for writing, I'm working on breathing life into a friend's fantasy. Have a few interviews lined up with interracial couples. Been a while since I was with a white boy, wonder if the rules have changed. Doubt it ;-)
Happy writing,
Portia
NaNoWriMo is over and I didn't make my goal of 50,000 words. Between my contemporary short story, historical novel and all my blogging, I still only achieved a final word count of 34.857 But, when I think about it, I don't feel like a loser. Matter of fact, NaNo gave me a few things that I desperately needed.
The first thing I got from NaNo was a writing community. The writers old and new that joined my Facebook groups are amazing. From Reena with her stockpile of writing software to Jen with her perpetual cheer leading, I know that I wouldn't have done so well without the support of others who had entered November Madness. Friends and family are great, but there is nothing like having another writer understand your frustration when the words aren't flowing. Or having a writer friend give a cyber high-five when you work through a difficult scene. If you aren't part of such a community, feel free to join mine on Face Book: The Writers' Block group, The Writers' Block page (Education and self promo for Indie Authors and aspirings.)
I also think I will be writing on a more regular now that NaNo is over. Who knew that writing everyday made sustaining a thought easier? Not me. Up until now, I've written when the mood struck me. Having to sit down to the computer and churn out 1667 words a day was daunting, but it soon became a habit. One that my husband and children grew to expect and even respect. Now that I've grown accustomed to writing everyday, sometimes only a couple hundred words, I think I may actually finish the pile of unfinished manuscripts in my desk drawer. And that would be nice as my website went live last week and I have readers and a publisher waiting for me to get kick it up a notch.
She'd caught her man pleasuring himself with the help of a little Internet porn. She took it as a personal attack against her ability to satisfy him. I fell out. She could not be serious. She was yelling and screaming because he was jerking off! I couldn't wrap my mind around that one. This woman is so beautiful I used to feel invisible walking next to her. Yet, she was the one with all these insecurities that I'm sure were based in her imagination. It never occurred to her that he might just want an uncomplicated orgasm. That he might just enjoy touching himself. There had to be something wrong with her, for him to do this madness.
