The Poodle Skirt: What it should teach me about writing, Pt 2

You all should remember this poodle skirt from yesterday's post. Here it is if you want to read it again: Poodle Skirt

All caught up now? Great.

Most of you can already see where this is going, but I have to get it out anyway. I've shared with you the utter dread and torture and agony that was the making of said skirt, and I told you why I did it. Not for the joy of it. Not for accolations.

But because I love my daughter.

When you love someone it sometimes means you sacrifice. Not your soul, not your self-worth, not your ideals or your morals, but you do sacrifice. The time and energy I sacrificed weren't for this stupid skirt--it was for my daughter. My 12-yr-old, smarter-than-me, slightly snarky, occasionally disobedient, stubborn, talented daughter.

Friday, in my post-skirt recovery, I realized that if I was willing to sacrifice so much to do a project I hated, why was I so hesitant in my writing--which is something I love? I used to think I was good with deadlines, that they made me work harder so I could meet them. But somewhere along the way, after seeing self-imposed deadline after deadline slide by, I realized that's not the case. So it wasn't that I had basically only one day to make the skirt.

Is it because I like to sew? Not particularly, and I'm not particularly skilled at it. But I do love to create things, and sewing just enables an aspect of that. But I got no pleasure from creating this skirt, so that's not it either.

Basically it came down to my girl. I did it for her. Only for her. Not for me. Not for the satisfaction of doing it but because I didn't want to see her disappointed if it was something I could actually do for her.

So if it's the person who matters most to me, what about the people who are waiting for my next book?

I'm not talking about nameless, faceless fans who I adore but in a distant non-stalkerish way. I'm talking about the kids who have reached out to me to say how much they love my series and can't wait to see what I do next. I'm talking about the little girls who've received my books as gifts and read them over and over. The ones I know by name. The ones I love.

And what about my writing career in general? My publishing goals? My plans for the future? Surprisingly, little of that really has to do with me. I don't want fame and fortune (though a little fortune would be nice, let's be honest) or to be on numerous bestseller lists. I've told you before I like being invisible. (you may now ask if I like it so much why use my real name to publish--and that plays into the part that's really about me, the part where I have to stand for what I say and my goals to improve with each project)

And then there's the fact that I write for my kids. There's so much I want them to learn and so much I want them to know, but one of the biggest things is that each of us needs to be able to follow our dreams. If what you're doing isn't what you love, then why are you doing it? I want them to pursue their dreams, to make success out of them. And how can I properly teach that if I don't live the example of it? Because the failure comparison of do it because I didn't just doesn't cut it.

Lastly, there's the most spiritual and personal reason why I write and publish. Because I know with absolute certainty that it's my calling in life. It's my part in God's plan. I have two callings--mother and writer--in that order. And I love God, so the progression goes that I should be willing to sacrifice to fulfill my part in His plan.

But, yeah, that's a lot of self-imposed guilt there and I'm only human. I'm going to backslide sometimes, make mistakes, and have to own them. Like right now. I don't care if the world never knows my name. But someday I'm going to have to answer for the things I did and did not do, and I feel there should definitely be more effort on my part in that regard.

I want to be able to say that I tried my best. Right now, this is not my best. Not my very best.

I know I get hung up on my first drafts, wanting them to be perfect and needing as little revision as possible. My new goal is to just finish the dang things. Become a fantastic RE-writer. Stop letting my doubts dictate my actions. Write for 5 hrs a day. The kids are in school, what's stopping me but me? So what if I chuck 95% of it later. That's 5% more than I'm doing now. It's still progress.

"You miss 100% of the shots you don't take."

It's high time I start applying what I know, push through my personal issues, and just write. Because of the love.

The Poodle Skirt: What it should teach me about writing, Pt 1

This is a poodle skirt. And you say, "Yes, I know it's a poodle skirt, but what's your point?"

My point? I hate this skirt. Loathe it. Detest it. It's seriously the only thing I hate more than...I don't even know--anything.

 "Wow," you say, "that's a lot of emotion about a stupid skirt."

And I agree. Completely.

If you're a long-time follower then you know that I have made some interesting comparisons to aspects of my life and how they relate to my writing. Bear with me because I'm about to do it again.

You see, last Friday was our school's Homecoming. And my daughter, who is part of the band/marching band, told me Tuesday that they had decided everyone needed a poodle skirt for the parade Friday.

Tuesday. She told me Tuesday. Afternoon. On our way out of town for a dentist appointment.

So I grumbled. And I griped. Why couldn't they have come to this conclusion a week ago? A month ago? It's not like nobody knew when Homecoming was, or that they would be in the parade. And I admit it--I'd hoped her ineligibility status might prevent her from marching in the parade. That way I wouldn't have to drop everything and make a skirt she'll probably only wear once. But no such luck.

I scoured the fabric selections at Walmart Tuesday afternoon because it's the only place with fabric and picked out a sweet floral print because they didn't have decent prices on any solid colored fabric. And because I know my daughter I knew I'd have to make an underskirt to shield her legs from the netting because she'd gripe about it being scratchy. Yeah, I know.

Wednesday I had a full schedule and couldn't do anything about it, but I did manage to make the poodle applique. But I started on the skirt first thing Thursday. I measured. I cut. I dug out more fabric. I measured and cut some more.

I found that the pretty floral print I'd bought at the store wouldn't work for the skirt. I hadn't bought enough fabric, which is a mistake I hardly ever make. Usually I have tons leftover. So I dug into my reserves and found the solid red pictured above. I probably still have enough of that leftover to make a tablecloth for my 8-seater dining room table. The underskirt? Easy--an old sheet. The netting? Less easy--I hate working with netting or tulle but I managed it.

Then I started to piece it all together and sew. I put in movies to listen to in order to break up the monotony. Occasionally I got up and ate or got more water or went to the bathroom or changed out the movies. But mostly I sewed. And sewed. And sewed.

The skirt was almost complete by the time my daughter got home from school. Mind you, I've made skirts before. Usually I do a simple elastic waist and hem it up. Really, really basic. The last one I made my youngest took me about 15 min start to finish. This skirt?

Oh. My. Goodness. It had a waistband. It has a zipper. I don't have a zipper the right length. I measured and cut for the size up from my daughter's size and the waist was tiny. TINY. My daughter is 12 and does not have a tiny waist. When she tried it on it was easily 3 inches too small. After all that work?

I grumbled a bit louder. I fantasized about going down to the school and yelling at the adults in charge of the band and the parade stuff. Details like this need to be worked out well in advance, not 3 days before.

My waistband solution? I ran a seam deeper into the top of the skirt, measured her, cut off the top of the skirt so there was a bigger opening, and measured again.

And still botched it. Now it was too big. Slid right off her not-quite-yet-hips and puddled on the floor. By this time I was fed up with the whole project, but no way was I going to put this much time and effort into the dang skirt and give up there. Safety pins. Yes, the skirt is still too big for her and if it ever fits it will likely be too short. I ran up to town and while the girls were in their drama class I bought a zipper. That night I came home and sewed it in. I'm not fast with zippers so it took until after they'd gone to bed.

But, finally, late Thursday night, the poodle skirt was done. And I LOATHED IT. In fact, I'm still considering burning it.

Because I hate that stupid, awkward poodle skirt.

But I love my daughter.

*Part 2, how this relates to writing, will be up tomorrow.

Oh, hi.

I haven't meant to not be here lately. In addition to my wildly exciting desire and drive to write, I've been hit with a couple of fastballs. First my back decided to freak out and stop working properly, and then, before my back got better, my immune system crashed--and let bronchitis and a sinus infection in. Rude.

I'm still working on getting better, and I haven't let it derail my writing plans so soon after committing to them, but it did slow me down. Hey, I'm as human as the next girl.

I'm really just checking in--to let you know I'm still here and going strong for 2012. But the kids are going to be home any minute so I gotta fly. :)

May Day

Actually, that was 2 days ago. And I'm really not in any kind of panic. Mostly. :)

It's May now, and we're winding down the school year and my writing time. I don't get any writing done in the summer when the kids are home, so I'm really not planning to do any from May 26th through August 20th (or whenever school starts again). This is a self-preservation technique to save me the stress and aggravation of trying to write and not succeeding.

But my plans have been a little redesigned.

Last week, I posted about my writing doubts while I waited for the publisher to get back to me for The Tyrant King. They did, with a list of suggested changes and a request to resubmit when I make the changes. At first, I was sad. I mean, I didn't WANT to have to do any more work on it, but that night as I was driving (another epic story for another day) to an author event one of the more inspirational songs I use spontaneously played on the radio. For me. I know it was just for me. :) And I'm honest enough to admit my writing isn't perfect, and the story DOES have issues, so I'd much rather fix them now rather than have it published full of plot holes. (slight exaggeration) So while I wait to hear back from my beta readers for my e-book, The Wild Queen, I'm going to work on fixing The Tyrant King--with the hope of resubmitting it by the end of this month.

What has changed? My 3rd planned e-book, The Price of Love, has been put off indefinitely. And I'm not going to start The Lost Princess, my (hopefully) 3rd print book, until I've resubmitted The Tyrant King to the publisher. I'm still hoping to get it all done this month, but I'm also cutting myself a little slack.

I may also be writing a little into June. Hopefully the kids will forgive me. :)

Back on the (Writing) Wagon

I don't think I've ever had two characters who caused me so much frustration before. Some of you have been introduced to them, though I noticed I've gotten a few more followers lately. Cool.

Anyway, I'm talking about Lucien and Roweena. Roweena, of course, is the main character in The Wild Queen. Or is she? Can you have a character that is the TITLE character without being the MAIN character?

I ask myself this a lot, actually. Funny thing is, I do the same thing in The Tyrant King--because who on Earth would go for a tyrannical protagonist? That would be some seriously misunderstood dude.

But Roweena and Lucien have driven me in circles, tied me in knots, and made me crazy. Ideas pour into my brain like water, but writing them becomes struggled and stilted. Ugh. My first problem? I had a "Wild" queen who really wasn't wild. She was in her early youth, untamed and all, but once disaster struck and she married she became quiet, docile--not at all "my" Roweena.

And I have a sneaking suspicion Lucien is the main character, because he's the one who sees the narrative through from beginning to end. But I always write about girls for girls. Now I'm writing about a boy for girls. I'm going to need a LOT of male perspective, here.

There's nothing wrong with Lucien. I quite like him. He's flawed, but brave. Noble but insecure. Handsome, but--no, he's handsome lol.

The worst part now is that I set myself a goal, then let frustration and life interrupt me, and now I feel bogged down because I know I won't turn out a quality narrative AND reach my goal. And that just stinks.

Have I mentioned it's June 16th?

A is for...(toldja I'd catch up)

ABOMINABLE...AS IN SNOWMAN. This is a photo from Valentine's Day 2008 when we had an official snow day. But it fits.

As a writer, my productivity is deeply affected by external influences. So, family stresses, weather, financial issues--all of this plays into how productive a writer I am. And, you know what? I AM TIRED OF THE SNOW.

It's April, people. (Another A word :)) This morning the weather man announced we'd have 5-10 inches in our area of UT over the next two days. Please don't misunderstand--I grew up in Phoenix, Az. I understand the importance of moisture to a metropolis full of people. I get it. I also desperately want it to be Spring now.

I want to feel the sun shine on my face. I want to feel a warm breeze. I'm tired of feeling like an arctic resident.

The abominable snowman is on my roof, and I want him to take a hike.

Ok, I love rain. Rain is good. Even cold rain. Can we have rain, please?

And the Seed of Doubt Returns

Here I am again. I've returned to the doubt that plagues all writers, despite their accolades and successes. I hate this, but I cant' escape it.

What is the best way to publish my book? Which book should I publish first? Should I hold out for something that can be fantastic, or take publisher suggestions and get the book published? Should it be one, or two? Can I make the second half follow the format acceptable to today's publishers?

What to do, what to do?

The only thing I can't do is the thing I sometimes want to do the most--give up. Quit. Stop writing. Live a "normal" life.

But then, if I was normal I wouldn't be extraordinary now would I?

This may be Frustratingly Cryptic, but . . .

The things we feel most deeply are the things we find hardest to share. I feel safe making that statement because I know I am not alone. For years I found it very hard to show my faith, to express my beliefs, because they are the most private, personal things about me. It is the same with my writing, and has been for a long time. I didn't share it at first--ever. Writing was my secret; it was something that was wholly and completely mine. Something that no one could take away. And in a time in my life when everything else could be taken--my sense of self, my freedom, my safety--I guarded it with my very life.

Sharing came gradually, and it became habit. I would share everything I wrote with my closest friends, a practice that once literally saved my life. By the time I turned 18 sharing my writing became so normal I had several poems published. But still I was keeping back the most precious, private part of my works.

In my youth, I developed a world separate from my life. I could escape there; I could live there and express my truest self. And I protected it. The process of outgrowing that world took years. And several edits. My world and I grew apart. I found safety in real life; I found security and love and protection. The distinction between fantasy and reality grew clearer and clearer.

And, finally, I could share it.

I'm pretty certain I won't be a NaNoWriMo winner this year. My train of thought was not only sideswiped it was derailed, fell off the bridge and sank under the torrential Atlantic waves. It was a spectacular crash; I'm sure I'll share it sometime in the future when the raw hurt has dulled to a mild ache. It will probably come in some form of my writing that will leave my readers weeping for the suffering of my main character. It is how I express. It is how I share.

Writers, like most artistic types, are sensitive creatures. We feel deeply. We see clearly. And sometimes the two intermingle. So, for just a little while, I'm going to be sensitive.

Do all LDS authors go through this?

I've hesitated posting this, because it is intensely personal, but here goes. Do all LDS authors face such spiritual adversity trying to get published? And does that adversity ease at all once you've published one or two books?

I've been on a roller coaster of highs and lows ever since accepting my place in Heavenly Father's plan last April. At least the role of my writing. It wasn't an easy acceptance. I've done a lot of kicking and screaming to get to this point. But finally I accepted what He has in store for me, and the blessings I've been getting all say it's going to be big.

I have a book on the cusp of publication and have been smacked down by direct opposition more times than I care to count. This is personal you guys. I'm talking misdirected emails, flagrant red herrings--and not just at me but at the people involved in seeing my book in print.

Case in point: A few weeks ago I got an email from the designer who did my cover and is also doing the interior book design. She wanted me to send her the most recent draft of the book. She didn't have it. A MONTH BEFORE I had sent it to my liaison who had then sent it to her and wrote me back saying she had. And it vanished into cyberspace. In utter exasperation I vented to my husband that it felt like I was being targeted, like little gremlins were purposely sabotaging my work. He immediately felt impressed to give me a priesthood blessing, during which I was told I was right. After that I started saying a little prayer every time I sent an email even remotely book related.

Three weeks ago my liaison started her final read-through of my book. She has to read it before it goes into print. Call her my editor, for these purposes. The next week I emailed her for an update and she said she was on page 200 and really liking it. She sent me a couple more emails saying she was really enjoying it and asking if another author could also look at it. After two weeks of silence I emailed again; she's still around page 200. Work and family keep distracting her. And I know why.

I'm fasting tomorrow. I've asked my kids to pray for the book to be published soon. I've got people asking almost daily when it will be available for purchase. And I've started responding by asking them to pray for it. There's nothing short of divine intervention that's going to see my book published now.

So I ask again. LDS authors, is it always like this??