If I Can Make It There...

Crazy Gym Lady: He's a lawyer, so he doesn't do things like Excel.

I haven't been doing Crazy Gym Lady quotes lately, because I'm trying to practice tolerance. Which, for me, means not paying attention to her. But I couldn't resist this one.

There's been a lot of discussion about the RWA National Conference coming this summer. Mainly people being aghast at the costs. It takes place in New York City, so prices are higher. The hotel rooms are $211/night for double occupancy, which seems to be shockingly high to many people. The registration fee is higher, because the hotel costs are higher.

At this point, people start working their budgets. They look at outlay and profit. Investment and return. I see a lot of people discussing whether they'll sell enough books, or get a high enough advance to justify the outlay. If you're responsible about your finances, this is what you do, you weigh your cost versus your benefits.

The problem is, attending a convention like this brings mainly intangible benefits.

The success gurus all say that, if you want to be successful in your field, you should hang with the very successful people in your field. They advise to do whatever it takes just to be in the same room with the millionaires and billionaires. Now remember, these are usually people giving advice on businesses like real estate, investment banking, stock brokerage, entrepeneurial ventures. They regard the opportunity to get a 30-second piece of advice from one of the giants as invaluable. From being around them, you learn the realities of their lives and their business. So you actually know whether a lawyer uses Excel. Unfortunately for aspiring folks in these fields, it's very difficult to get near the giants. They are simply not accessible, much less willing to give even less than a minute of their time.

It seems to me that people don't recognize the opportunity RWA offers this way.

The millionaires in our field? They show up. They give keynote addresses. Susan Elizabeth Phillips gives an annual workshop on the secrets of writing a bestseller. I sat in the bar next to Nora Roberts while she had drinks and discussed the business. She also offers a seminar where people can ask her anything at all. Linda Howard chatted with me in the elevator. These are our millionaires, hanging out in the hotel bar and offering advice freely.

This just doesn't happen in other fields. Even other genres.

I met Annie Proulx six or seven times, easily. She lived near my town and occasionally attended literary events. Every single time she was reintroduced to me, she acted like she'd never seen me before in her life. And this was not a big town. My friend, RoseMarie, and I were working up a great idea for an anthology about bars in the West. I asked Ms. Proulx if she'd be interested in contributing. She laughed in my face. Then glanced at some of the people she considered to be "real writers," sneered and walked away.

Yeah, she's a cantankerous type, but she wasn't the only Big Name Writer to behave this way. When people get to be Very Important, they can become this way. Wanna-bes in their field are only so much dirt beneath their feet. They're not going to help you.

Not like in RWA.

I included the photo above from two years ago at the convention, because these two fabulous authors, Jeri Smith-Ready and Cynthia Eden, became my friends. They're not in the millionaire crowd yet, but they're headed that way. They weren't the Mean Girls, hanging only with the successful authors. And I know they never will be. They received help along the way and they offer help. Which is what it's all about.

This kind of thing? It's beyond price.

Forget the Prince, Give Me the Beast!

I'm guest-posting today over at Cynthia Eden's blog, as part of her October Halloween blog party. Come party with with us!

That Time of Year

This year, I'm resolved to take more photos.

All of my pictures from last year are from other people's cameras. (And no, we have no idea what Jeri Smith-Ready is doing in this picture. My theory is vampire dog, but you never know....) But then I was crazy busy/stressed last year. Hopefully this year will involve less of me running around like a manic person.

Tonight, the lovely and serene Cynthia Eden will host a pajama party, I believe. That ought to make for good photo opportunities.

Stay tuned - I'm off to Orlando. Save me now...

World Domination: Phase II

So, I mentioned the other day that an epublisher offered to buy this erotic novella of mine.

You might have missed it, buried as it was amidst my other angst. I would not blame you if you were skimming at that point. At any rate, I'm signing the contract today and they'll publish my naughty take on Beauty and the Beast in early summer. I'll use the pen name Jennifer Paris, which is half of my pron name. And no, I didn't misspell pron. You pretty much have to use the word that way to defeat the icky-bots that crawl the web looking for that kind of thing. As it is, people search for bizarre stuff on writer's websites. Here's an example from Meljean Brook. I just love how she offers the searcher alternate scenes.

I'm sure you know, but your pron name is the name of your first pet combined with the first street you lived on. Technically I'd be Stormy Paris, but that's just a little too.

My friend Cynthia Eden gave me excellent advice on the pen name question. She said that if I want to differentiate my "Super-Sexy tales" from my other stuff, then go for the pen name, but own up to it, to take advantage of my networks, such as they are. Cynthia delights me that she refers to a BDSM story as a "Super-Sexy tale" - she's this charming combination of polite Southern lady and frankly sensual writer. Cynthia put it well when she said that, after all, these are just gradations of what we're writing. KAK also talked me out of my tree, to own this and be proud.

I'm thinking back to a time, must be over ten years ago, when I bought this ebook "Writing Pron for Fun and Profit." I never got around to reading it. It was kind of dull and the first part didn't tell me anything I didn't know. But I've always had the idea that I should try this. For fun. Profit would be nice. Then Samhain put out a call for an anthology of Red-Hot Fairy Tales. I was between novels, so I wrote up Beauty and the Beast. I always wanted to know exactly what made him so Beastly.

Samhain turned me down on the anthology. Another friend, Dawn McClure, who writes for Samhain pointed me to Loose Id. (She also pointed me to one other high-profile epublisher who turned out to be uncommunicative and unprofessional - very odd.) So far, Loose Id has been wonderful to deal with. I think it's a good fit.

And, what do you know? Their logo is a lizard, which has become the good luck emblem of our new Santa Fe lifestyle.

Must be meant to be.

Perky

I don't believe in writer's block so much.

But there are certainly days when the words flow and days when they don't so much. I don't really understand why.

Some mornings I wake up knowing what I'll write in the blog -- down to particular words and phrases. Other days, like today, my brain doesn't seem to have much in the way of thoughts, much less words. Sometimes, like today, I'll plug in the camera and see if I took a picture I forgot about, which is often the case. This was sunrise on Wednesday. A subtle rose and gold one, full of promise. Of course, that day the promise turned out to be full-on meetings, so I never did get to sit and write. What was on the camera got lost in the busyness of the day.

Which was okay. Consulting is a feast or famine gig and the beginning of the year tends to be lean. More work is always better. As it is, people in the company are sniffing around the corners of the hallways (this is completely metaphorical since many of us, like me, work from home), searching out crumbs of work. The fear level is higher this year, with the backdrop of financial uncertainty. (I would make an extreme promise to scream the next time I see or hear the phrase "in this economy," but since I know it's likely to be in the next hour, I must be Zen. See my serene smile?)

Cynthia Eden, a fine writer and a really lovely friend, says she's sneaking out of town this weekend, in the hopes that a change of scenery will perk her up. She lives in Florida, so I imagine her heading to the beach, which sounds really wonderful.

I suspect we all need perking up this time of year. Whether it's the low light or, for those of us in winter, being stuck indoors a lot, January is just a long and unperky month.

It seems inescapable that our moods cycle. I think often of people who are chronically ill and how their caretakers will always refer to "good days" and "bad days." David, who likes to find a reason for everything, says that something must affect people to make some days good and others bad. Okay, maybe. But whether it's biorhythms or the chemistry of what you ate last night or the barometric pressure or whether you produced enough endorphins from running or whatever, it remains that we all have good days and bad days. Those of us lucky enough to be healthy just experience this as feeling up or kind of blue.

We just don't get to be perky every day. Not without chemical assistance.

The challenge is to salvage what you can from the non-perky days. Take the time to rest. Forge ahead anyway. Do like Cynthia and find a change of scenery.

The perky is out there. Even in this economy.

Not Meant to Be

When I started this blog, I made myself a deal that I could blog about whatever was on my mind at that moment.

This was mainly intended to cut myself some slack and relieve some of the pressure that I imagined posting every day would create. After all, I have rules about my other writing: how much I need to write every day, what I can work on. All designed to keep me focused and moving forward. For the blog, while I keep a list of ideas for those days when my mind is blank, I thought it would be easier just to "let" myself write about whatever struck my fancy.

It's become a very different exercise over time. Several times, I've hesitated to write what was on my mind, because I thought it might annoy people or because it felt too intimate to throw out there. At those times, I reminded myself of my rule, which now had a double edge. Not only could I write whatever was on my mind, I should. It's been interesting, because those things I most hesitated to throw out there are the ones that people have commented on most. And usually not in a mean way.

My friend commented that this is like public journalling. And while I bridle at that idea, I think she has a point. Perhaps all personal essays are a form of public journalling. While I don't regard myself as an especially confessional person, it is important to me to explore life through writing. My head is the only one I get to be inside, so I am my own experimental subject. Subject A. All of my observations are terribly subjective and I have an "n" of one.

Alas.

A couple of readers have commented that lately I "sound" weary or stressed. My first reaction was to clean that up. Some of it is vanity, I suppose, wanting to present a good front. I also want this to be interesting and I suspect my angst isn't all that fascinating.

But I go back to the rule. Life isn't always about the perkitude.

Last night my dream prom date rejected me. I got The Email, which is the antipode of The Call. If it's true that the agents call only if they're interested, then it's equally true that, once they have your full manuscript and are deciding whether to represent you, they only email if it's a no.

It's a long an detailed email, full of really useful feedback and some less so. This is one of the hardest parts of the writing business, deciding which criticisms to take and when to stick to your own belief in what you're trying to do. It's easy to be too stubborn, to refuse to change in the face of good advice. You also run the risk of trying to be everything to everyone, following everyone else's direction until what you've written is, at best, no longer your own, and at worst, a muddled mess of nothing.

The wonderful author Cynthia Eden (who has a new book coming out that she's giving away, so I'm giving her a shameless plug here) gave me some good advice. She said she uses the rule of three: that if she gets the same criticism three times from different sources, she takes a hard look at it. This is maybe simple advice, but it comes at a good time for me.

I still have my other potential prom date, so we'll see how that goes. We'll see what her criticisms are, as she did indicate she had things for me to fix. Which is fine, if they'll really improve the book and if her plan is a good one.

The worst thing about not getting invited to the prom, is the fear that you'll never get to go. Which is, of course, a complete loss of perspective. There are other proms, other dances. Hell, you can put on a pretty dress and dance in your living room. Just because you thought something was coming together in a seredipitous way, that it might be meant to be, doesn't mean it is.

My friend, the writer Julianne Couch, says she doesn't believe in "meant to be." In the same breath she worried about a piece of carpet being unhappy, since it was uselessly stored in her garage. "You don't believe in fate, but you believe in the sentience of inanimate objects?" I asked her. She blinked at me and said "Yes, I just don't believe in the big animate carpet in the sky directing our lives."

I don't either. Carpet is carpet. I think it's fair to say it's "happiest" when its doing a carpet job. I write for much that same reason. And I'm reliably informed by writers who write for a living that I'm lucky that my salary is not connected to what I write; I have a freedom they don't have.

Today, Subject A will revisit her goals as a writer. Interesting that my heroine is always seeking to answer the same question: what do I really want?

So many things.