Identity Crisis

*sigh*

If you're a semi-regular reader of the dish, you can probably tell that mimi has been going through a funk. An existential crisis. A "who am I, and remind me why I'm writing this blog?" moment. Or moments. Or months, if you want to be candid about it.

All mimi can claim is an insane work schedule and, indeed, a bit of an identity crisis. For the blog, that is. mimi has always been a Jill of All Trades type rather than a one-and-done personality. Likewise, the dish covers everything from writing to teaching to home life to rants about whatever gets mimi's goat that particular day. Once upon a time, it featured yummy-looking men every Friday in a popular feature called "The Bed List/The Dinner List." Hmm. Revivals are good for Broadway...

At any rate, identity is being considered and reviewed as we speak. By the time school starts (because that's really New Year's Day every year if you're a teacher type), mimi should have herself and her blog figured out. Then we'll be back to our regularly scheduled posts. Sound good?

Fresh Apples

mimi has been a hardworking girl for lo, these many years, and since this is the last year of National Board bonus money, it was time to upgrade. The nice people at the Apple store have sent me (courtesy of my credit card, of course) this lovely wee MacBook.

So shiny! So pretty! So fast! mimi is v. excited about possibilities and has already downloaded a fresh new copy of Scrivener so she can keep working on the book that is taking foreeeeeeeeeever to revise. Maybe revising will be more fun now that I have a new toy. Let's hope.

The Word Series

Props to Novel-T, which has created a lineup of American literature-inspired T-shirts. The baseball-themed shirts feature iconic characters and writers, like Hester Prynne, Moby-Dick and Captain Ahab, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, and writers Whitman, Poe, and Thoreau. Each "jersey" features an icon befitting the player, like a whale (duh), a Captain's "C," paintbrushes, and a raft. My favorite is the international "no" circle/slash for Bartleby the Scrivener, who would, of course, "prefer not to." Clever, clever stuff. English teacher squee out of control, basically.

Even better, Novel-T donates $1 of the purchase price of each shirt to 826NYC, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6 to 18 with their creative and expository writing skills. Now that's a team I can get behind!

It's About Danged Time

A friend sent me a link to this brilliant ad campaign for, of all things, tampons. The model in the first ad is actually a former intern at JWT who helped design the concept of the ad campaign. Clearly, she gets it (unlike the idjit who came up with the "have a happy period" tagline, who probably thinks we all dream of the day we can wear white during that time of the month and spin and go salsa dancing). The second spot just nails the American obsession with demographic testing. Funny stuff!

Rev. Robertson FAIL

I can't even begin to describe the ridiculousness that is Rev. Pat Robertson's comment on the Haiti earthquake, so I'm going to let this letter from the Minneapolis Star-Tribune say it for me:

Dear Pat Robertson, I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I'm all over that action. But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I'm no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth -- glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven't you seen "Crossroads"? Or "Damn Yankees"? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there'd be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox -- that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it -- I'm just saying: Not how I roll. You're doing great work, Pat, and I don't want to clip your wings -- just, come on, you're making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That's working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
Best, Satan
LILY COYLE, MINNEAPOLIS

Lily Coyle, whoever you are, if I lived in the frozen hinterlands you would totally be my BFF. Sarcasm WIN, with a tip of the hat to C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters.

Roundup

Closing the book on 2009--it's been a good year. Interesting. Weird. Frustrating. You know, the usual. I did manage to read 135 books (some re-reads, but mostly new titles). I'm finally unstuck with the current WIP, and even though it's moving more slowly than I'd like, it's moving. We took a family trip to Washington, DC (awesome!), rode/survived the train, built a jillion memories. Tonight, we're dropping the ball and watching fireworks at our friends' house and hoping to stay out of trouble, haha.

New decade tomorrow, fresh start, clean slate. Gotta love a new year.

Logjams

mimi has finally had a breakthrough of sorts. I had to go all low-tech, printing out a calendar, but I can see holes in ye troublesome mauscript and now have some inkling of what to do with them!

See, this is the trouble with a NaNo book. You get so busy lunging from beginning to end, you don't see the pitfalls because you skip right over them. I've set a book in the fall and given my heroine an October birthday, and yet her birthday doesn't get a single mention aside from the sentence where she mentions that she was born during the World Series. And since this is a book about a woman recovering her identity, she'd probably have issues with being alone and divorced on her birthday. Hmm. There's a scene or two right there.

Cardboard foil character needs some work as well. She's basically a cutout evil blonde right this minute. Hero's impossibly heroic, too. Need to bang him up a bit as well. Good. Torture I can manage. Finally, finally I get some movement.

Too bad the novel squirrels are playing hell with my sleep schedule. Can't sleep, so I'm not waking up when I'm most productive. Waking later, so my morning is rushed and crazy. Oy. At least I have some direction now. That's gotta mean something.

Redesign in Progress!

As you can see, we're undergoing a revamping here at the dish. A new look always takes some tinkering, so be looking for expanded book and blog lists as the days pass. Let me know what you think about the new look!

Revision Blues

I used to be so positive about revising. I loved printing out copies of a draft on the backs of old paper, whipping out a favored pen--in purple, turquoise, hot pink, or some other fun color--and having at it. Revised pages had notations, additions, scribbles up the margins and on the back, arrows pointing hither and yon as I moved around sentences and paragraphs. With my first book, my key revision tools were a pair of scissors and a roll of Scotch tape. I literally cut-and-pasted the opening to that book to cure a bad case of backstory dump.

Now I'm in the doldrums, to borrow an image from one of my favorite children's books. I can't seem to move forward or back. My tools have upgraded since the scissors and paste days (all hail Scrivener!), but now the process is bogging down. I'm not sure exactly why, but I suspect the culprit is (gulp) NaNoWriMo.

A peek at the sidebar lists three books, all in the revision stage. These three books were all birthed during the frenzy that is NaNoWriMo. None is complete. Their stories are--I did manage to get to "The End" on all of them, but they're in varying states of crazy. Read long enough, and you'll find plenty of all-caps notations like SOMETHING NEEDS TO HAPPEN HERE or NEEDS A BETTER TRANSITION or something like that. My mind knew where to go, but NaNo doesn't provide you with enough time to mull over things, and let me say, my natural writing process involves lots of mulling. I spend twice, even three times as much time thinking over a chapter as I do committing it to paper.

I think the problem lies in the discovery. I am a seat-of-the-pants style writer. I have a general idea of where I'm going (usually a very clear opening scene and an equally clear closing scene, with a lot of mist in the middle), so I've found it easy to write a general synopsis of the book. As I go along, ideas will pop up that I incorporate into that bare skeleton. I used to cut up the synopsis, too--I'd tape pieces onto separate sheets of paper representing future chapters, then when inspiration struck, I'd scribble that dialogue snippet or piece of business on the appropriate chapter and go on my merry way. In that way, Scrivener works as an electronic replacement of my battered red clipboard. I can jot ideas on a new card and rearrange at will as the book takes shape. I'd keep at this, chapter by chapter, as surprises revealed themselves, characters did unexpected things, and odd bits of business found their homes. Writing that way, every book built momentum toward the conclusion I'd already envisioned, and first drafts were darned close to finished length. Then, out came the pens.

Now, I have three "finished" plots, thanks to NaNoWriMo, and the revision has been painful. I think my brain thinks those books are complete and doesn't really want to fool much with them. Of course, when you reread you find all kinds of wrong that need fixing, but it takes so much longer than it used to (or seems, anyway). It's not fun. And I used to be the "Revision is FUN!" poster girl. Hmm.

So, do I abandon NaNo and the rush of getting something completed, or go back to my old, slow ways? Anyone else out there have the same issues? mimi could use some help.

Emo Vampires

My thoughts exactly. Sort of. "I'll be back when the world grows a pair...of fangs." *snerk*

I <3 School Supplies!

I don't know about you, but I've always been way more excited in the Office Depot or the Staples than I have ever been in the shoe department. Yes, I'm warped. But still, there's something about fresh, new Dixon Ticonderoga pencils, Pink Pearl erasers, and riffly sheets of notebook paper that just gives me the shivers. New school supplies mark the beginning of an unblemished school year, where I can teach everything perfectly and all my students soak up the learnin' like baby sponges. One week in, and it's all screwed to hell (so much for perfectionism), but right now, it's still perfect. And that makes me very happy indeed.

The Gobi Desert

About 150 pages into her last novel, The Buccaneers, Edith Wharton wrote in her diary,

What is writing a novel like?
1. The beginning: A ride through a spring wood
2. The middle: the Gobi desert
3. The end: A night with a lover
I am now in the Gobi desert.

Honey, I'm camped there with you, and I think the camel ran off.

One plus to meeting tête-a-tête with Dream Agent at RWA National is the immediate feedback on the current projects. One minus is the conversation in all its nonverbal communicative glory...the facial expressions that disabuse you of any hopeful notion you might have concocted from an email exchange or even a phone call. That, alas, was the result. Instead of WIP 1, we're shifting to WIP 2...the one that's stranded in the Gobi sans camel. Urk.

WIP 2, aka "the baseball book," died the death before the end of my second go-round with NaNoWriMo. Great premise, not enough steam. Rereading said WIP during the train ride home, I realized that it suffered from several flaws: the backstory dump. The excessive navel gazing (all women's fiction has a degree of navel gazing, but...). The trips to nowhere. The pointless scenes.

Thankfully, the idea engine is slowly cranking to life. The endless construction project next door to Daddy's house gave me an idea for my foil character. I was able to extend a surprise metaphor and make it work better. The characters are becoming rounder and less cardboard. Okay, so I have to rewrite the whole thing. It can't get sold if I don't, right?

Sadly, Wharton never finished The Buccaneers--she died when she was about 3/5 of the way through. Let's hope the same won't be true for me.

#writerfail Redux

For all I adore technology, I'm not a first adopter. It took a couple of years before I finally bought a cell phone, and I was practically the last person I knew to start texting. Although I belong to several email loops, I was a Facebook holdout until recently. I'm still on the fence about Twitter. After reading Jennifer Weiner's post about Alice Hoffman and how not to use Twitter at Huffington Post today, looks like I won't purchase my tickets to the Twitterverse anytime soon.

The short version: well-known novelist Alice Hoffman (Practical Magic, Here on Earth, and many more titles) erm, disagreed with her hometown paper's review of her latest novel, The Story Sisters. Maybe disagreed isn't the word, for her response went way beyond mere disagreement. After unloading on the critic and the paper in a series of tweets, she finally tweeted the critic's name and phone number and encouraged her readers to call up Mean Ms. Critic and complain. Vociferously. Then she nuked her Twitter account and sulked off for some pasta with a chocolate chaser. (I guess. Okay, I'm projecting here. That's what I do when the mean girl hurts my feelings.)

The lesson to be learned from all this, writer friends, is that you don't have to be unpublished to suffer from a classic #writerfail. Unlike the yet-to-be-published crowd I carped about in my earlier #writerfail post, Ms. Hoffman has "made it." She's a bestselling, multi-published author. A couple of her books have been made into movies. She's allegedly reaping the glorious benefits of publication, yet her Twittersnit proves that on the inside, she's no different from the rest of us when it comes to her work. She's defensive, cranky, and willing to lash out to protect the baby.

And that's the problem, isn't it? I marvel sometimes that I, and fellow writers, get so bent out of shape when faced with conclusive proof of our lack of universal acclaim (rejection, bad review, hack-and-slash critique session, etc.). As readers, we're quick to reject and belittle writers and genres we just don't care for, so why should we, as writers, take everything so freakin' personally when faced with the fact that some reader out there just doesn't like us? We can't all be the popular girl at the dance. Right now, all the cute boys (NY publishers) are dancing with the hot goth chicks (the paranormal/urban fantasy writers) and the edgy techno boys (e-publishers) are making out with the erotica gals while we romantic comedies/chick lits/Western historicals sigh at the ceiling at the edges of the publishing gym. Our lack of dance partners doesn't make us any less wonderful, just not the flavor of the month. And seriously, people who get all cranky about getting their coffee just so don't have any business acting like spoiled brats when someone else expresses a preference.

Perhaps that kind of reaction is self-inflicted. We writers go on about how our current WIP is our "baby" and then react like tigresses when we realize someone thinks it looks like a lizard. Someone will. That's the nature of the beast. The big question is, are you writer enough to write for yourself? If so, a bad review won't be the end of the world, or the beginning of an online snit that will last into time and all eternity. If you're writer enough, you're already worrying about the next project.

So what have we learned today? Write what you know. Write what you love. Learn the Southern belle's secret weapon: the indulgent smile. Practice saying, "Bless your heart" instead of "F you." And for goodness' sake, eat the pasta and chocolate before you tweet.

Sinfully Tagged

"Sometimes you can learn more about a person by what they don’t tell you. Sometimes you can learn a lot from the things they just make up. If you are tagged with this Meme, lie to me. Then tag 7 other folks (one for each deadly sin) and hope they can lie."

Pride: What is your biggest contribution to the world?

I'm breathing, aren't I?

Envy: What do your coworkers wish they had which is yours?

My shoe collection.

Gluttony: What did you eat last night?

Coq au vin. In Paris.

Lust: What really lights your fire?

Depends on the day of the week. The men just come and go. You know, "If it's Tuesday, it must be Gerard Butler."

Anger: What is the last thing that really pissed you off?

The overwhelming intelligence of the American electorate. I mean, how dare they be so thoughtful?

Greed: Name something you keep from others.

My solution to world conflict. I'm holding out for the best offer since I am, after all, me (see PRIDE).

Sloth: What's the laziest thing you've ever done?

Convinced all the neighborhood kids to paint my house, inside and out, while I drank lemonade on the porch Tom Sawyer style.

Threes

I guess today I can officially close the book on my youth. First Ed McMahon (how many years have I heard that voice?), then Farrah Fawcett (all the girls wanted her hair, all the boys just wanted her), then Michael Jackson ("'cause this is THRILLER...thriller night!"). Michael Jackson's taking the most effort to process, though. He's not that much older than me! Of course, we all watched him grow up, from being the high sweet voice of the Jackson Five, to the disco phenomenon of Off the Wall, to the self-styled King of Pop. Is there anyone my age who didn't adore the "Thriller" scene in 13 Going on 30 because we'd all practiced that routine over and over and over?

Strange how passages make us think more about our realities. Tonight, though, let's celebrate the talent of three people who made us laugh, dance, and dream.

Off to the Races

The reworked idea for The Five Step Plan and the proposal for Life After Little League are now on their way to Dream Agent. Let's hope she's happier with the rework--if she is, I can salvage some main story elements. If not, we're talking total rebuild (which I'm not wanting to do, but...). Now I'm back to the YA ideas. Who knew designing an entire fictional high school would be so complicated! That "write what you know" advice sure can throw a wrench in the works when you're not looking.

My Spicy Sweet Chili Self

Dream Agent, bless her heart. After a few rounds of email tag (how did I manage this before BlackBerry?), we finally manage a business call. And it's a doozy.

She looooooooooves the high concept hook of my proposal she has in house. The execution, not so much. As in, not crazy about the inciting incident, not completely wowed by some other story elements, not really feeling the narrative/dialogue balance. Just not. But looooooooooooooves the high concept hook. What can I come up with to re-vamp the story and make it fly?

You ask so little. But I am a professional (even though I must get this obligatory whining off my chest), so I will dive in and try something different. I already have a couple of possibilities, courtesy of Kel and middle sis, and I'll probably pick up a couple more before I actually start writing. That, I'll manage. Why? Because I'm Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos.

Let me 'splain, Roocy. After breaking the bad (but not unrecoverable) news, Dream Agent and I launch into a conversation about authors and markets and so on, and we agree on a mutual sense of "meh" for the currently white-hot paranormal/urban fantasy/sex with things that sprout fangs or claws and also that one wildly popular author of much more regular women's fiction doesn't do it for either one of us. I can read and enjoy her, but she's just not my cup of tea. Not an auto-buy. I'm trying to figure out why, exactly, when I glom onto a metaphor and say, "It's like she's Lay's Potato Chips, and I'm Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos." DA busts out laughing and says "Exactly!! You are Spicy Doritos!!" We agreed, Lay's are awesome, and I said I had no problem eating Lay's if there were no other choices, but if it came down to Lay's and the Doritos, I'm all over the Doritos.

And that's a good thing, DA reassures me. Better to be me than another chip, even if that chip is wildly popular and a fixture on BookScan. Too bad the book she has isn't showing off enough of my spicy, my sweet, or my chili self. Guess I got some work to go. Good thing school's out--I have a deadline in two weeks for a proposed revamp, another proposal sent, and a general outline and character sketch for the YA series. Nothing like relaxing all summer, huh?

Oh, and Doritos are buy one, get one free at Publix this week, starting today. Omen? I think so. I'm stocking up on purple bags.

Block, or What?

More cleaning of the cabinets today, since les élèves are taking an exam, and of course I get sidetracked by a book. Miracle's Boys, by Jacqueline Woodson. One thing leads to another, I end up at her website, and I find this: 

I don’t believe there is any such thing as Writer’s Block. I think it’s just your mind telling you that the thing you’re writing isn’t the thing you really want to be writing. If this happens to me, I start writing something else. 

Okay, she has a point. I just wish it weren't quite so, erm, pointy. I'm a big one for avoiding work. Doodling, planning, scheming, but not actually writing. Does that qualify as a block? The difference between me and Jacqueline Woodson (who really is a fine writer for young people--do check her out ASAP) is that she's productive. I'm not. I make a fine case for wanting to be a writer. Actually doing the writing? Not so much. 

It's interesting, since I was all kinds of productive during NaNoWriMo. Getting up at 4:00 and slapping on the headphones was a great way to get a story out. Once it's down, though, I lose steam. That, or get sidetracked by another idea. Since new ideas are always far more interesting than the work required by revision, I get sidetracked. Easily. Woodson might claim that the new idea is what I should be writing (that thought sure is seductive!), while the "write every day no matter what" crowd would say I'm a dilettante. I think I'm both, but I've never been a clear judge of my own character. 

What say you, writer types? Do you stick with a book until the bitter, multi-revised end, or do you flirt with the new guy when he sashays through your cortex?

Tigger vs. Eeyore

Normal me:

Today me:

My sisters would find this whole discussion trés interessant, since they are both self-confessed Eeyores, ready with an "Oh, bother!" at many of life's travails. I, on the other hand, tend to be that annoying optimist who looks for the pony at the bottom of the pile of manure. You know, bouncy trouncy flouncy pouncy fun-fun-fun-fun-fun!!

Except for lately. It's probably the constant drain of too much stuff in the house and seemingly no time to get it all straightened out--and that's not even considering the schoolwork and the mom tasks and the taxi driving and the writing--but I have been way tired lately. And way tired usually ends up with not much happening at Chez mimi, creative or otherwise.

Maybe it's spring fever. It certainly is gorgeous out there--trés distracting. Aside from a visit from the pharma fairy, any ideas on how to get the bounce back?

#writerfail

As a writer still camped on the canyon rim across from PublishedLand, I’m very lucky to have landed a fabulous agent. A combination of research, timing, and luck managed to part the clouds and let the angels sing for me, and I assume that any writer still looking for an agent would be serious about making the right match. That means researching what they represent, reading their contracted authors, following their blogs, meeting them in person (if at all possible), and then sending in a query, crossing your fingers, and praying for the heavens to open for you, too. Then I heard about #queryfail.

In case you’re unaware, last month two brave literary agents, Colleen Lindsay and Lauren MacLeod, hosted #queryfail on Twitter. All day long they, and several agents who tweeted separately, posted snippets from queries they’d received that pretty much guaranteed their authors a “no” response. The stated aim of #queryfail was education. Learn what not to do and improve your chances of success.

The agents conducting #queryfail waxed a bit silly during the discussion. Who wouldn’t? When authors inform you the Almighty ordered them to submit, or that their work amalgamates every trend currently burning up the NYT list into a ghastly literary train wreck, or that Oprah would love it if she ever got off her high horse to read it, or it’s so good I couldn’t stop writing and now it’s 700,000+ words, you’ve gone on beyond passion. It’s a simple business fact that publishers cannot buy your work, no matter how unique or transcendent or whatever you believe it to be, if that publisher does not sell that kind of book. Period. This appears to be simple logic to me, but then again, when creative passion and logic collide, logic is often left bleeding by the side of the road.

Writers, no surprise, were hurt and angry from hearing the truth. They wanted to hurt back the way they’d been hurt. So when Jessica Faust offered to host an #agentfail day on her Bookends blog, hundreds of authors took her up on it.

Let me just say, my tent on the canyon rim got much more comfortable after reading some of those posts. Although I’d agree with some of the more reasonable advice—the “no response means no” policy could use a look, if for no other reason than courtesy—I also learned that some writers, frankly, don’t have what it takes to become published. I’m not talking about the quality of the storytelling; I’m talking about the modicum of professional behavior necessary to swim, or even float, in the shark tank of publishing.

An agent’s job is to glean the wheat from the chaff, measure the wheat properly, then find exactly the right bakery to turn that wheat into wholesome, or nourishing, or guilty-but-sinfully-tasty bread. That’s it. They don’t owe authors anything except that they live up to their stated policies regarding submission times. Whether the “I’ll pass” comes on a postcard, a note scribbled in the margins of your query (I’ve gotten one of these), a form rejection, or something personalized, that’s the answer—even if it’s not the answer you want to hear. Agents don’t have to explain why. Have you ever read the back cover copy of a book in a genre you like and decided immediately that it wasn’t going to be your cup of tea? Agents do the same whenever they tackle the next towering batch of unsolicited queries. Unlike we readers and writers, however, they have to do this several hundred times a week on occasion—not including the work they have to do to market their current client list. You think response times are ridiculous now? Imagine how long they would take if every single query, no matter how nutso, required a personal “It’s not you, it’s me” response carefully crafted to let the author down easily, without any bruising of tender egos.

I have a pretty keen imagination, but I have a hard time wrapping my head around that concept. If you’re a writer who is serious about a career in publishing, you will get criticized. If an agent doesn’t do it, an editor will (assuming your work makes it that far). If your book is published, trust me, some reader will hate it. And probably explain why in dripping, sarcastic detail on Amazon. To paraphrase egregiously from Dennis Miller, the publishing world is tough. Wear a cup.

Unfortunately, it seems many writers just don’t understand that concept. If you read some of the anonymous #agentfail comments, you could convince yourself that agents were bloodthirsty, amoral prima donnas who wake up every morning determined to develop new recipes for fricasseed baby author. If you’re in that camp, my question to you is, Why would you want one of those evil harpies repping your work? Yegods.

After reading pretty extensively on agent blogs and writer blogs and publishing blogs (I told you I did my research) on the #queryfail/#agentfail dynamic, I’ve come to this conclusion. Some writers will never be published simply because they just don’t get it.

Hurt by a rejection, so you badmouth the rejector, her taste, her agency, and every author she ever bought? #writerfail

Posting vicious personal comments on an agent because you didn’t like the form of the rejection she sent? #writerfail

Publically questioning in blogs and on email loops the professionalism of an agent or editor because she lacks the vision to understand your unique gift to the world in the form of your current WIP? #writerfail

Criticizing an agent for revealing a personal life beyond the work day in which she keeps up a blog, tweets on Twitter, spends time with her family on vacation, or takes pictures of her dog instead of chaining herself in her office cave to mine for your gem of a manuscript? #writerfail

The point of writing, folks, is to write. You don’t instantly become more of a writer because someone publishes your work. Your knowledge base won’t suddenly increase when you get the call. Your talents won’t blossom into something different. You’ll be the same you, working in the same pajamas, nibbling on the same chocolate. Your outer circumstances change if you get an agent, or the call, but your inner writing life will be just as fraught with doubt and anxiousness and soaring days of wonderfulness as they are now.

If your whole writer identity centers on getting published, you can make that happen. There’s fanfiction and internet posting—one site called Publetariat looked interesting—and POD and self-publishing that will guarantee you exposure and maybe some readers outside your circle of trusted friends and family. If you’re focused on selling to a professional publishing house, whether electronic or print, get in line. Do your research, submit to the right people, cross your fingers, and pray. The right project needs the right time and the right place, folks. If you’re not doing the work to pinpoint what those are, you can’t rail at the publishing world for thwarting your dreams. At that point, you’re the biggest roadblock you have. #writerfail

Mark Twain said, “We can secure other people’s approval if we do right and try hard; but our own is worth a hundred of it, and no way has been found of securing that.” And he’s exactly right. Your opinion, your love for what you do, is the thing that should bring you joy in this, your chosen art. You are a writer because you write. If nothing else, remember that.

Are you still here? The post’s over! Wasting all your writing time infosnacking on the Internet? Classic #writerfail! Get back to your manuscript!