Just Sheep In Wolves’ Clothing. May 9, 2009

 “Obstacles are those frightening things we see when we take our eyes off our goals.”

Henry Ford

Being human, it’s all too easy to talk ourselves into and out of things; especially when venturing outside of our comfort zones — you know, those times we’re sure we’re delusional in lieu of inspired, scribblers instead of writers, fooling ourselves instead of honoring our proclivities as we measure success and worth in ways that turn perfectly good dreams into the playthings of children.

When we’re staring into the eyes of our dearest dreams, it’s easy to convince ourselves to give up or to run like hell in the opposite direction, a.k.a., in the direction of the safe and familiar (and adult), whether or not it makes us happy to do so. It’s safer not to put ourselves out there, not to risk failure, not to expose our soul and its multi-colored dreams, not to let ourselves believe we may have what it takes to reach our goals — because falling short could be quite a painful wake-up call, indeed.

What if we don’t make it to our chosen destination? What if Fate and Destiny conjoin in a conspiracy against us with a different outcome in mind?

At least it won’t be because we turned tail and ran. It doesn’t mean we’ll stop writing. And, as long as we keep writing, we make new hope, new possible outcomes, new destinies.

The truth is, there are many, many aspiring writers and only so many books published in a year — approximately 172,000 — and only 1000 of those books sell over 50,000 copies. (Yikes.) Looking at it that way, it sounds sort of bleak …

And yet, it sounds possible. Compared to many other things, such as a singing career (when your singing voice shatters glass), winning 186 million in the state lottery, or owning an elephant AND a zebra, it’s possible. With hard work, sacrifice, doubting moments, inspired moments; with seeing obstacles, if you have to see them, as no more than a shirt and a pair of jeans tossed over a chair; it’s just a shirt and a pair of jeans throwing a respectable shadow, not a midnight marauder waiting to pounce.

Fear is like that; it throws a shadow much larger than the concern, itself. It’s just sheep in wolves’ clothing, life’s well-meaning tests to see if we really, really want something and if we really, really mean it.

It’s the only way to weed out some writers from others as we circle 172,000 musical chairs, poised to spring when the music stops, our sparkly manuscripts hugged to our hearts.

There’s an easy way to lose that chair, and to give up your chances: by seeing those obstacles as wolves in sheep’s clothing, instead. To question yourself endlessly, doubt yourself completely, to turn perfectly good dreams into nightmares. All you’ll do is waste precious time you could be investing in writing, reading and learning craft.

All you’ll do is become your own dream-killer, before fate and destiny have a chance to take over the reins. Thinking about it that way, being an unrequited writer has much more appeal. And, riding the wild dream no matter how it turns out, whether or not it leads to publication, will result in the greatest gift of all: being true to yourself and your dreams, because, as we always hear, it’s the journey, not the destination that counts. It’s also the journey that makes for the BEST writing.

“What comes from the heart, goes to the heart.”

Beethoven

Lucky for us, we can write all about it; we can weave our fear and hope into a poignant pattern that resurrects the dreams of both writers and readers. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream, you know. Who would want it any other way?

” … To feel the width and amusement of human life: not to strain to make a pattern just yet: to be made supple, and to let the juice of usual things, talk, character, seep through me, quietly, involuntarily, before I say Stop and take out my pen.”

 Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary

And so I whisper comforts to myself, as my partial in hard-copy makes its excited way to the big city, New York City, along with my hopes and dreams: at least you continue on the wild ride. At least the journey is exciting and inspired. Don’t forget; don’t forget to value that.

I won’t.

I promise.

A King’s Ransom. April 23, 2009

It’s been a good, hard few months. These moments, below, are the defining ones:

1) I’ve toiled over my quirky YA novel, The Girl Next Door, seven days a week since November 2008. Time not spent on life’s basics (or tending to dogs and horses) was spent in a sort of mental pilates, making TGND tight and lean.

I’m tired, but happily so. I’m very pleased with the end results, too. It ‘s amazing how abilities and skills solidify from one novel to the next — it’s what a writer always hears about, but to experience the process as it’s happening is pure magic.

Writing skills can morph into writing gifts if a writer is willing to put in the work. And even if you already have a knack for writing, still, it takes work.

2) We lost a bunch of photographs a few years ago when an old computer crashed. We certainly learned the hard way. At the time, I was devastated. I’ve often thought wistfully about those photographs.

I lost photos of old friends, photos of a friend who passed too young, some wedding photos, pet photos (some of the pets having since crossed the Rainbow Bridge) and photos from the apartment where we used to live, including our first Christmas lights together and a 9/11 memorial I’d started on the apartment lawn in the dead of night. (Originally being an East Coast girl, 9/11 hit hard. I’d also worked on the 79th floor of the World Trade Center after college.) The memorial was against the apartment rules, but they bent the rules for a whole week.

Just a few weeks ago, I came in from flaking the horses to see my husband bent over some strange device on the kitchen counter with a hard drive laying next to it. I still don’t know what it was, but it was miraculous; it accessed ALL the photographs we thought were irretrievable.

Wow.

I’ve spent the last few weeks going through the pictures a little at a time, surprised by the emotions that shadow these images, on the verge of tears (both happy and sad) — to see old friends, former lives, former selves — and to see my animal babies, their likenesses captured so clearly it feels like, in a small way, they’ve come back to me.

The photos have even seeped into my dreams, and in my dreams, whether they be about horse, dog or cat, I remember scents, mannerisms, barks and meows I’ve been unable to hold onto in my waking life.

It’s both salty and sweet

how the heart remembers in dreams

what the waking mind can’t keep.

I kept a hank of Takoda’s tail (my first horse) who died of colic in July of 2007, although it broke my heart to cut it even after he was gone. I vacuum-sealed the hair in a plastic bag to keep his scent close, but even so, the scent disappeared.

Gone is really gone.

3) Querying is tough. Chasing the dream is tough. You toil and research and pray. You put in the work and hope for good results, but even then, you can’t be sure. For writers, that’s part of the journey; it builds character and characters. It’ll prove you to yourself in one way or another, holding up a mirror to both your writing and your fortitude (or lack thereof).

The query process is curiously endowed with more than its original, intended aim. I understand why it drives some writers crazy. I understand the intensity and the despair. Nothing of great importance comes easily, and perhaps it shouldn’t. But perspective and a bird’s eye view remain a querying writer’s best friends.

No doubt about it — staring your dreams in the face is heady stuff. You roar, you soar, you crash, but you still burn. You rise up from the ashes humbled but determined and even more sure that you’re the real deal: you’re a writer. You need no ones permission. You are who you are. Now, you REALLY know.

Sure, you could quit. Go ahead — quit. Seriously. Most likely you’ll find you can’t quit for long. You’re a writer, you know. Pens and paper, keyboards and fingers, words and thoughts, they go together like up and down, on and off, light and dark.

Rejection is tough, dream-chasing is tough, remaining steadfast is tough. And yet, there’s no other choice. We want to master our craft. We want to share new worlds. We want to be published, yet not sell our souls nor sell out.

All these things and more rear their subterranean heads; important things withheld in the past and those who withheld them. Feelings of not being good enough. Voices from long ago, critical or incredulous or condescending. Self-doubt, heavy as an avalanche, along with the dizzying flight of believing in yourself and your abilities during those crystal-clear, this-is-why-I’m-here moments.

The query process is literally haunted by one thousand ghosts.

If you’re a querying writer, validation can be hard to come by. Please feel free to plug yourself into the letter below:

Dear My Querying Self,

You ROCK for hanging your lily-white a** in the wind and sailing your work out there. Sure, it can feel like TORTURE at times, but you have to keep putting your work out there — it’s the only way to get to HERE.

I admire your courage and cajones, by the way. They’re just what’s needed to make magic happen, on or off the page.

The world can always use more magic, more understanding, more connection, more alternate worlds that teach us what’s important in this one. Do what you need to do, amigo, but whatever you do, don’t give up.

I know it can look bleak down there in the query trenches, but we got where we are now because of those rejections — they paved the way to that one YES that changed everything — EVERYTHING. The process made you tougher. It made the writing better. It was sooooooo worth it.

You want proof? See this book I’m holding in my hands? That’s YOUR first novel! So keep querying, keep dreaming, keep hoping and keep working — but most importantly, KEEP WRITING.

With gratitude and admiration,

Your Published Self From The Future — I owe it all to you!

P.S. I’m really sorry about the a** in the wind thing, though.

Postcards From Query Road. March 18, 2009

I think and think for months and years. Ninety-nine times, the conclusion is false. The hundredth time I am right.” 

Albert Einstein

As a struggling (but still-hopeful) writer on Query Road, there’s nothing to stop you from taking your car at one hundred miles an hour and plowing it into the next tree, as you gather rejection letter after rejection letter. Symbolically and deep down, where those crises of confidence and self-esteemless moments lurk, it stings to have The Gatekeepers of Hopes and Dreams not even slam the door in your face, but refuse to open it in the first place. 

While we as writers try hard not to take it personally, it can take an uber-steady will to separate rejection from our hopes and dreams. As we hope agents will make at least a little fuss over our polished offerings, and dream of one day holding our book in our hands all fresh and pink and full of promise, there remains a fine, sketchy line between heart and publication.

So, put it on cruise-control, worthy writers, and take in the scenery. It’s really true what they say about it not being the destination but the journey. As you bravely collect rejection letters yet remain steadfast in your quest, you are learning, growing, marinating, maturing and earning your “masters degree” in self-confidence, hard work, persistence and patience — all things that will not only make you a better writer, but a better person who writes. 

And a better driver as you cruise down Query Road, bopping to the tunes and spying the perfect turn-off for a picnic — a writer has to eat, after all — where, on the grassy slope, the light bulb goes off, as you’ve just thought of an idea for your next novel.

What a lucky writer you are, indeed.

 “It’s not that I’m so smart, it’s just that I stay with problems longer.”

Albert Einstein

The Scream Heard ‘Round The World. March 11, 2009

Partial Pancakes.

Not to jinx anything, but I recently received agent requests for my YA novel, The Girl Next Door. And, the responding agents are agents from my list of “Dream Agents”.

Did you hear that scream, and wonder what it was? That was me.

O-M-G.

Presently, the first three chapters of my novel are in an agent’s hands on exclusive.

I am so excited.

I woke up late on Saturday morning and groggily kissed my husband goodbye (he had to work this weekend, too) with my face still hurting from smiling so much the day before.

He said, “There’s a surprise for you in the kitchen, almost-published writer.”

The truth was, I’d woken up in the first place because the scent of whatever the heck he was cooking had wafted into the bedroom, first waking up the terriers who then began the usual routine of licking my face and grabbing my nose to wake me up, too — all in the hopes of getting some of whatever smelled so good. 

It was Partial Pancakes!

I had one big ol’ pancake in my hand and was just about to bite down when I thought, camera! just in the nick of time.

My husband promised to give me the recipe to post here, but they’re roughly pancake/waffle batter with added vanilla, chocolate chips, sweetened flake coconut, (toasted first), cooked in the waffle thingamajig. 

I have to say, the terriers were quite disappointed when they couldn’t have a piece, due to the chocolate chips.  

Sometimes snuggling back under the covers is the next best thing.

(Estrella, who is an endless source of love and amusement.)

I know how weary a writer can get on Query Road, receiving form rejection after form rejection. Just the day before, with another Dear Author rejection in my hand, I was wondering what the heck I was thinking.

And then, the floodgate opened — out of nowhere.

There’s a life lesson in all of this, of course, because if we’re not growing, we’re not living. And the lesson is, let other people say no to your dreams, but whatever you do, don’t you be the one saying no.

You never know what fabulous things are just around the bend, my huckleberry friends, and you’ll never know, unless you tell yourself YES.  

I’m going to end this post with a little bit of “corn”, because as my good friend Carly Marchelier likes to say, a little bit of corn never hurt anyone.  

Moon river, wider than a mile
I’m crossing you in style some day.
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way.

Two drifters, off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see.
We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waitin’ ’round the bend
My huckleberry friend, moon river and me.

Moon River

(Photos by Emily Murdoch)

Bless The Querying Writer. March 9, 2009

 

the deed is done

the gauntlet thrown

the friend of yes

the foe of no

and while their fate

in limbo goes,

bless the querying writers

in between

a rock and a hard dream,

wearing their stories

on their sleeves

and just returned

from imaginary lands

still warm to the touch

of their trusty pens.

 

 

Poem and photos by Emily Murdoch.