Fear of Success: Can it keep you from trying?

I have sent out very little work since I gave up my full-time freelance job so I could write romance. That doesn’t make a lot of sense. All of those years when I had that weekly writing deadline for my non-fiction work, I kept wishing I had the time and the energy left to work on my fiction.

Then suddenly I had the time, and I wrote some, but not regularly. And the manuscripts I had finished, that I could have polished with the things I had learned over those years, I didn’t touch them either. When people tried to encourage me to send out something, I always had an excuse at the ready.

Then I gave in and sent off a query to Silhouette. Got a quick request for the complete. (They just skipped right over asking for the first three chapters.) My story made it up the ladder, but was finally rejected. (Wasn't the first time that had happened either.) The editor wanted to know if I had something else along the same style ready, and I didn’t. I could have written something else, but I didn’t do that either.

After a couple of years of nothing, one of my writing friends who had asked about what I was writing or what I had out there, listened to my normal excuses and then informed me that I was a great writer. I blushed and smiled. And then she added, ”...that wants to go nowhere.” Huh? “You are afraid of success,” she said matter of factually. “You’ve stopped finishing work, stopped writing most of the time at all, and you never send anything out unless someone twists your arm.”

I disagreed completely, and she kindly changed the subject. Good friends know when to back off. (Smile) But then a few weeks later another friend said almost the same thing to me. And then a few months later two more said it also.

Okay, that many people have to be on the right track at least. Right?

Maybe not.

So to prove them wrong, I recently sent out a query to a really top agent. Then I went in a panic...knowing the rejection was on the way. I had kind of set myself up to fail...top agent...query for a manuscript that was only half completed. Something I always tell new writers not to do. (I did tell the agent right off that it was only half finished.)

So of course I would get rejected. I sat around waiting for that rejection to come, nerves on edge. And then one night while I was in bed tossing and turning thinking about that coming rejection instead of sleeping, this cold lump formed in the pit of my stomach and I had one of those light bulb moments.

I wasn’t really dreading a rejection. I was hoping for one. Hoping that agent would send me a thanks but no thanks.

If I didn’t get a rejection, then I would have to prove to myself that I could still complete a manuscript. And if she signed me and sold that story, then I would have to prove that I could do it again, and then again. And then what if I couldn’t do it again, not even the second time? And what if the reviewers hated it? What if other writers hated it, if my family and friends hated it? What if the agent made a mistake and thought it was good, and then the publisher believed her, and they printed it and the whole world found out my writing sucked?

Those kinds of thoughts rushed through my head until I actually became sick. I got out of bed and stayed up a long while before I finally was able to go turn in and go to sleep. The next day I started the morning with a few things settled in my mind.

I love to write romance stories! Too many people have told me my stories are good. All of them can’t be wrong or wouldn’t be telling me a lie out of kindness. I do want to hold one of my books in my hands; to walk into a store and see one of them on the shelve with my name on the front cover. So what if everyone doesn’t love it, or even like it. That’s just life. There are novels that I’ve heard others say were great that I didn’t like at all. Liking a story or not is just a matter of personal taste. So that’s how it should be taken. I also wanted to help my husband support our family. Since I wasn’t freelancing any more, I wasn’t brining an income into the household.

And the most important thing I had settled in my mind was that I could do it. I can write a novel. I’ve done it several times, and it hasn’t killed me and the whole thing didn’t fall apart, and the world didn’t even end. (Smile)

So darn it, if success is waiting for me, I’m going to welcome it with open arms. And if it’s not...then it will just be fate and not from a lack of trying on my part. I can deal with that...and without guilt and wondering what could have been.

I’m not going to let fear hold me back any more!

Oh, and that query I sent that top agent. Well, she liked it a whole lot, and asked to see the first three chapters. She liked those too, and is now waiting for me to complete that manuscript. Success better watch out...because I’m on the hunt. (Smile) I might not find it, and that’s fine too, but I’m not going to hide from it any more. I think I’ve kind of reached the next level of “Life is Too Short”! (Smile) Took me long enough!

Making Time for Yourself

Sometimes we seem to forget that we are important, that we owe ourselves a little time and attention. I know this is something that both women and men are guilty of it, but more women seem to do it than men. We put our children first, our husbands first, our friends, our jobs, our housework, our pets, our bills, even the things we volunteer for. Then last and least, if there is a second of time left, we think about ourselves.

I’m just as guilty of this as others. (Smile)

I started putting my husband’s needs first when I married at the ripe ol’ age of seventeen. Just before I reached nineteen I had our first child, a son. Of course he had to come first too. (Smile) A daughter came a few years later. A few years more and I begin to write romance novels. Of course that fell into place after the cooking and the dishes, and running children to school and practice and the volunteer work at those schools. (No matter how little time I had, I found it hard to say no when someone asked me to do something.)

It was okay. I was young. There would be plenty of time for me later.

More years went by...no... they flew by. I was still running children back and forth, trying to cook huge family meals like Mom, and still do volunteer work, write, and keep my house decent--I had given up on spotless.

A couple more years and I added a full-time freelance writing job to my schedule. With it came a killer weekly deadline, but at least a good paycheck arrived every week as well. Most of my volunteer work took the hit. There just weren’t enough hours in the day. My romance writing took a hit as well, a big one, and ended up pushed completely aside.

More years went by at the speed of light, and still there was no time for me. In fact, there was less, since my parents had added me to their family late in life; I was now a woman with children and parents that needed care. As my children needed less, my parents needed more.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that my weight crept up each year, that by the time I was thirty I had high blood pressure and needed medicine to control it.

A few more years went by. My health got worse. I added high cholesterol and diabetes to my list.

My parents are both gone. (I miss them so much!) My first-born left home, is about to finish college, and is getting married soon. My youngest will begin her last year of high school in August. The freelance job is gone, and yet other things always pile in.

The key is, that it will always be that way, if we let it. I will admit that it’s a recent discovery, and I’m still kind of new to this all, but I’ve learned to say no, and I’m learning to put me first. If we push ourselves until we pay for it with our health, then what good are we to anyone? We have to take care of ourselves first before we are fully able to help others.

That means I make time to write now, for me, what I want to write, what I enjoy writing. I make time to work out, every day. (So, I don’t like that part of my day, but it’s important.) I also make time to relax, to watch a good movie now and then, to curl up in bed an hour early and just read. I might not do these things as often as I should, but I have a feeling I’m going to get better at it.

I hope after reading this, you’ll get better at it to. (Smile) Try to do it sooner instead of later!

Just Getting It Written

I’ve heard many well-known writers say that it’s best to just get it written, that even bad writing on a page is better than a page with nothing on it. I went back and forth through the years, sometimes agreeing with them, and other times not agreeing with them at all.

I've found there are actually two kinds of bad writing though. The kind I did years ago when I wrote my first two romance novels. And then there’s the kind I do now when I’m taking part in a writing challenge or just pushing myself, allowing the words to come and blocking that editor from my mind--and sometimes knocking her off of my shoulder. (Smile)

I’ve tried to rewrite those first couple of novels, and I’m going to do it one day just because they were my first. But there’s nothing easy about it. No matter how I try to justify it when I look at those choppy scenes and cut-out characters, I find it hard to think that starting with a blank page would be harder than saving these dear-to-my-heart-but-oh-so-bad novels. To be honest, when I wrote the first one, I had no idea what plot was, what real conflict was, or even point of view. Thankfully, I’ve come a long way baby. (Smile) So maybe really bad writing from someone who doesn’t know what she is doing--at all--can be worse than a blank page.

Then there’s the story I’m working on now, that I’m trying to just get written. I’m not allowing myself to go back and rewrite as I go, or to over think every little detail. When I’m done though, that rough draft will no doubt be better than those polished first efforts of long ago. So now, at the place I am, bad writing is definitely better than the blank page. Of course I do a lot of prewriting in my mind before any words hit that screen, which helps.

Do I regret those first couple of manuscripts I completed?

Not on your life!

Those were my schooling. Those were the stories that carried me to where I am now. I learned as I went. Each page, and sometimes each word, was a lesson.

Hmmm, maybe anything is better than a blank screen. Without those learning efforts, no matter how rough, I wouldn’t be the stronger writer I’ve become. I guess anytime you have the choice to sit there and stare at that little blinking spot on that blank screen, or to type words, typing words is the best choice. At least that’s my story on the subject for this moment on this day, and I'm sticking to it. (Smile)

Leaving a Comment for a Comment

Okay, so this is my first blog. I warned every one of that when I wrote my first entry. So when comments came in to my e-mail from the blog site, at first I hit reply and answered. But they all bounced back. After a few I figured out that things just didn’t work that way with blogs. But for some reason, it never came to mind that I could post a comment here on my blog in reply to a comment left from someone. Talk about a duh moment. Hehehe

But I’m really proud that I’ve figured that out now. Sometimes in life, we just have to laugh at ourselves. I’m good at making myself laugh. (Smile)

Characters That Pop Out of The Shadows

My first romantic suspense is also a paranormal story; it’s hard for me to write any story without something paranormal showing up in it. While I've been working on this newest manuscript, all of these other paranormal type characters have stepped out of the shadows. Suddenly my three main characters for this story, who were each going to have a book, now have friends who all want their own books, too. I've taken a break from the writing to get to know these new guys and gals. And what fun it is.

I’m getting to write my own rules for these characters, who aren’t your normal everyday people. In the mix there is a vampire, a werewolf, a witch, well a few of each really. And then there are these guys who were genetically altered. I can make them each able to do, or not do, what ever I like. (Smile)

I want to get to know these new and unusual characters well before I write any more for now, since at least a couple of them are going to show up in this first book of the series.

So I’ve been clipping out pictures, filling out character charts, and making my family wonder why I’m talking aloud sometimes, saying things as if I were someone else. I’ve also been walking around mumbling to myself, things like... "That would never work.” or "He would never do that." or “That would be perfect and pull all of the tension and conflict together.” After which I usually run toward the computer or grab the closest thing I can write on and anything I can write with. Honestly though, they should be used to such actions out of me by now. (Smile)

I think these stories should be a whole lot of fun to write! I’m going to be spending the next year, probably longer, with a number of really great characters. I hope I get to share them one day.

Life is Too Short

I’ve heard that a million times, in conversations, in songs, in movies. I haven’t thought a lot about it though. Even though I’ve had health problems for a few years now, and I know death happens. I’ve lost my mother, my father, a brother, all of my grandparents, and more aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends than I can mention. I still figured, mostly, that I had plenty of time left. (I bet we all think this.)

And then a couple of weeks ago, a fellow romance writer who I knew through some on-line groups, died. She didn’t have cancer, she wasn’t old, there wasn’t a terrible car wreck, she simply got the flu, and then things went down hill from there.

I spent some time looking through old messages she had written. They were normal messages. The kinds we send out every day about writers block, falling off the diet wagon, plans for her next book...just totally normal stuff. And then she was gone. It was like someone just erased her away, and her website is there, but she isn’t, and no more messages come from her e-mail address, and when I send a question to one of the groups we belonged to together, she doesn’t reply.

I know her novel is sitting in her computer unfinished. Her notebook of ideas for articles and stories will never be jotted in again...and she’ll never get the chance to finish that novel, or start another piece of writing. What’s done is done, and what’s left undone will stay that way.

Those thoughts made me open my own folder of ideas. I glanced through them, and there are some good ones in there. (Smile) I looked at the MSS I have started, and I realized that I don’t want to leave them unfinished. I like my characters and I want to tell their whole story.

So I’ve decided to work a little harder, maybe write a little faster, and to let some other things slip. Who says there’s anything wrong with a sink full of dirty dishes, and the world won’t fall apart if I don’t judge a contest for a while, there's really nothing wrong with saying no, and I doubt I’ll be missed that much if I suddenly start posting fewer messages on those on-line groups.

I have a great excuse after all; I’ve got stories to tell. (Smile)

Rewriting Old Work

Okay, so I was thrilled to have that new scanner. I was so glad that I could finally get those old completed manuscripts in the computer. (I actually started out writing Westerns romances, then switched to contemporary.)

I got the first one in. And…

Oh my!

Either I’ve gotten much better at writing since that story was finished, or I’ve gotten to be a much better judge of writing. And I sure hope it’s the first reason, and not the second.

Basically the story is a good one. Strong plot, good conflict, great characters, some things do need a little fix here or there. But the writing! It needs the most work. Okay, so it’s not that bad maybe. I’ve seen worse, right? I think I just feel a little overwhelmed and unsure of where or how to start. I guess the only place to start is with page one and see how much is wroth saving and how much isn’t. It’s almost 500 pages long, so I have plenty of cutting room to spare. (Smile)

Now the question is, do I really want to scan those others in? Or just let them die in the shadows, covered with dust and forgotten? Hmmmm? Good question. (Smile)

Having Another Computer is a Great Thing!

I was so happy that hubby was getting a computer of his own, and that this one in the office was going to be mine alone--at last. But things have been better than I thought they would be. Notice the time of this post as proof. {Smile} It’s after nine-thirty and I’m on the computer. Of course, I would normally be fast asleep by this late. Hey, when you have to get up at four in the morning, nine is late. {Smile}

There’s more good news also. Hubby’s computer came with a kick-butt all in one printer. All of those old, long-ago finished manuscripts that I did on my Brother WP can now finally be scanned into a computer. That old Brother WP did save to a floppy, but too late I learned that it saved the files in a way that nothing but the same old brand and model of Brother WP could read. What a blow. But now with this new scanner, and some time and work, I can scan each printed up manuscript into the computer in Word. I wish doing rewrites and making them worth reading would be as easy as scanning them in is going to be. {Smile}

Okay, so I could stay here longer and write more if I wanted to tonight, but since the words are starting to blur and I have to cook for a small army tomorrow, maybe enough is enough and I should give up. “Night, night,” she said with a yawn.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

I hope all of your wishes come true in 2005!

He Quit Smoking and I Get to Write More

I'm sure you don't get what one has to do with the other, but it's still true. {Smile} I’ll explain.

My husband has smoked since he was eleven-years-old. Yes, you read that right. So he's been smoking for almost thirty years--more than two packs a day for probably the latter half of that time. I never really believed he would be able to quit. Not that he hasn't tried.

Oh, he has tried! So many times.

He watched my mother die from lung cancer after smoking for most of her life. That was terrible enough that he tried even harder afterwards to stop, but never made it for more than a day or so.

This go around though, he tried the patches. You have to wear them every day for two and half months. People say they are expensive, but I figured it up, and they didn't cost any more than those cartons of cigarettes. (And if they had cost three times as much, but worked, they would have been worth every cent.) I will admit to you that I figured he'd open the first box, start with the best intentions, and then before week one was up he'd be standing in line at Smoky Joe's for a nicotine fix.

I almost wanted to get my hopes up when he had made it through the first week, but didn't dare. And then week three came and I started to hope just a tiny little bit. And then week four, and hope was flowing. By week six, I really wanted to believe this was it. Some how each week went by, and he didn't give in or give up, and then suddenly we were down to the last box and the last patch.

I felt the ground beneath me tremble a little when we pulled that last patch off of his shoulder. He was on his own now. No more training wheels. I just knew he was going to fall, and hard. So I held my breath and waited. (Of course I never let him know that I had any fear or doubts at all.) Day one, day two, day three. Solid as a rock. Day four, day five, day six. A couple of hard ones, but he didn't even tilt to the side. Day seven, day eight, day nine. I exhaled. My muscles relaxed. I’m more proud of him that I can put here in words.

But what, you ask again, does all of this have to do with writing more? A lot. I promise.

See, the deal is that I had told hubby that if he was ever able to quit smoking, he could have the money he spent each month on cigarettes, and do what ever he wanted with it. What he wanted was a new computer. Mind you, I don't think there is anything wrong with the one in my office, but being male and all, he wanted more power!

So last week he got his wish. A kick-butt computer all of his own. I even bought him a new desk and chair for Christmas, which he has already opened since he had to have a place to set the new computer and sit himself. {Smile} His computer is in the living room, so the office and this computer are now all mine! That means in the evenings or on the weekends, if I get the urge and have the time, I can write away. Since I spend so many hours a day keeping up with the e-mail groups I run, and answering mail, or even working on my website, I'm hoping some extra hours at the computer will mean some extra chapters. I guess that would give me a good goal for 2005. {Smile}

Another Thanksgiving Come and Gone

I cooked too much, ate too much, and stayed busy too much. And yet somehow I managed to get a little writing done now and again, so I’m not complaining. (Smile.) The most important thing is though, that I enjoyed Thanksgiving with my family and friends.

So often now it seems we get so caught up in the busy and rush of the holidays that we forget they are holidays--times that should be enjoyed, savored, like a good piece of fried chicken that you gnaw down to the born and then lick your fingers clean after. (Smile.) I know you get it, but the chicken is the holiday and all of the good things that come with it. (Smile.)

I’m going to make sure I think of things that way this month, since today is the first day of December. I’m going to take time biting through that crispy golden brown crust, savoring each bite of that moist tender meat, not leaving even the tiniest piece on the bone, and then spend time making sure each finger is clean. I’m going to get e v e r y t h i n g out of that piece of fried chicken that I can.

There was an empty spot at my Thanksgiving table this year. One very dear smiling face that always loved my cooking so much. We are human you know, and that means there’s no guarantee that we, or any bite of that chicken, will be here next year, or the day after Christmas--or even tomorrow. Now is the time to feast! Not on fried chicken, but on love, family, hugs, friends, laughter, long talks--seemingly unimportant little everyday moments that pass without the spotlight or the blaze of glory they are worthy of.