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The
Toughest Question I’ve Ever Been Asked…
From www.writingplayground.blogspot.com
Move over, players, Rocki's
here and she loves this playground!!
Hi everybody! Thank
you for letting me climb onto your swingset for the day. I am delighted to be here at the Writer's
Playground. My
dear friend Marilyn invited me over and I truly hope
that I can give you all a little push from behind and
maybe some balance on the teeter-totter that is our business.
Marilyn asked me to write about anything
of interest to aspiring authors, be it craft, writer's
life, industry or the secret handshake that will guarantee
a short path to publication. All right, let's do them all. Quickly. Craft: read
and write. Writer's life: spring for a massage whenever possible. Industry: constant state of flux. Secret handshake: yeah,
right.
In truth, I decided that today I would
take a shot and try to answer the toughest question I've
ever been asked.
About six months ago, my local RWA chapter
hosted an Ask The Author night, putting four of us
in the hot seat to answer anything. I settled
into my spot on the panel, looked out a sea of my dear
friends and loving faces, certain that no one in this
group could hit me with a question that could stump,
embarrass or confuse me. One of my chaptermates, a woman I've watched work diligently
into the PRO ranks – even after she suffered the
sudden, unexpected loss of her husband and life transformed
her into a single mother with no warning – looked
directly at me and asked, Rocki, have you lost the joy?
Naturally, I handled that with a great
deal of dignity and complete professionalism. I
burst into tears.
I had lost
the joy. And,
worse, everyone could see it. How
can this be, they asked. You're
published! You're multi-published by multi-publishers,
contracted for the foreseeable future, writing for
a living, basking in the glow of a name that is bigger
than a title on the cover of award nominated books. WHY
AREN'T YOU HAPPY?
Because in every writer's world, be
they pubbed, unpubbed, epubbed, prepubbed, postpubbed
or Ÿberpubbed, there are dark days. I'm not talking about museless afternoons
where the words don't come, or a week where life interrupts
the flow of writing, or even the two week write-strike
brought on by some nitwit judge who denied you a contest
final because you used the word eyes instead of gaze
and your margins were off a quarter inch. No, I'm talking about months (or worse) when the joy of writing
is suddenly, inexplicably and totally sucked right out
of you. It happens to all of us, no matter where
we are on the publication path.
The hardest part about my winter of
discontent was that I am not, in any way, shape or form,
an unhappy person. Optimist is an understatement on my list of character traits. My
glass isn't half-full; it's overflowing with the good
stuff, bubbling with delight and must be shared with
the entire table. I've
been accused of being phony and I remember that indictment
hurt: I'm not a phony. I really am a happy, enthusiastic, optimistic person. But happiness and enthusiasm and optimism
suddenly disappeared from my work and it was scary.
This was not depression. This was not a moment of malcontent. I simply hated what I was doing for a
living and couldn't figure out why. There
were lots of factors that started it: disenchantment with certain business partnerships, an inability
to agree on a story with one of my publishers as the
deadline grew closer, disappointing royalty statements,
and, of course, a couple of characters who just couldn't
leap off the page like they were supposed to. I wrote a book that nearly killed me. Actually, rewrote
a book is more accurate – for every page forward
I produced, I had to go back and revise the six that
came before. When
I managed to finish and send that one in, I instantly
started another. This
one had an entirely different set of problems – ones
that stemmed from the line, the publisher, and a third
party who placed limitations and constraints that chafed. It
wasn't easy, it wasn't fun, it wasn't particularly profitable
and it sure as hell wasn't anyone's dream job during
those months.
My face must have shown the strain,
my shoulders slumped, my frown lines deepened. Maybe
I made one too many sarcastic comments in the chapter
meeting, maybe I rolled my eyes when someone waxed poetically
about the thrill of a good rejection. God, I hope not. But, my joylessness was obvious to all.
I couldn't answer the question, except
to acknowledge that it was a wake-up call. I realized
that the loss of enjoyment in my career scared the
life out of me. Being
who I am – a woman of action, not reaction – I
decided that I had to figure out where the joy was hiding,
and how I might get it back where it belonged: in my heart.
First, I asked myself the hardest question
of all: Do I still want to write? No matter how I cut it, no matter how
I stacked the cons (the pile was high), the answer
was YES. Then I looked at what was bothering me
and how I could change it. I
made some major changes in my career, none of which was
easy, and all were a little scary. Then,
I made some demands – created whitewater where
there had never been any, asked for some things I'd never
thought I could get. And
finally, I dug to my deepest creative center and challenged
myself to come up with my biggest and best idea for the
next book.
Then some magic happened. I clicked with a new agent. The proposed idea was approved in 35 minutes. The story began to pour out of me. The publisher sent a cover so perfect
it left me speechless (no mean feat, I assure you). In the meantime, the book that almost killed me was published
to some lovely, strong reviews. (It's Thrill Me
To Death.) The other one that almost killed me sailed through with no
revisions and ended up being one I love (Thunderstruck - not out yet). And best of all, I began to turn on my
computer with anticipation and excitement each morning,
not dread. With joy, not fear or boredom or discontentment.
I wrote and wrote, falling more deeply
in love every day with my hero, my story, and my job. And
I sent an email to my chaptermate and I thanked her for
asking me the most difficult of personal questions, and
forcing me to make some tough decisions.
Make no mistake – the dark days
of a writing career will come. They
will arrive with thunder and clouds and they are going
to drench you with doubt and dismay. They may take the
shape of a difficult book, a contentious relationship,
a sickeningly bad cover, a shocking rejection, an inexplicable
contest score, a lousy paycheck, a poorly motivated hero,
a boring manuscript. They all might happen at the same time.
No might about
it: they WILL happen at the same time.
Your job is to go back to the basics: Ask yourself why you write. Conjure up that fresh, high-concept idea. Force
yourself to finish the hard books. Change
the things you can – even if it means ending a
relationship, walking away from a critique partner, or
saying no to a volunteer project that cuts into your
writing time. Take
control and take action and recognize that this happens
to everyone. Chocolate,
wine and friends are invaluable at this time, too. And, of course, a good book!
I believe that knowing how to coax a
little bliss back into your work is far more valuable
in the long run than craft tips, industry info or a even
the secret handshake. I
believe that the strong survive, but the joyous thrive.
xoxo
Rocki
www.roxannestclaire.com
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