3.29.16 - It really did make all the difference.

3.17.16 - On Wanting to Quit

“I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over.
Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.”

– Kurt Vonnegut

Not too long ago, I saw a writer quit. 

I’ve seen this happen before. And every time, I’m struck to the core, completely aghast.

You can’t help putting yourself in the author’s shoes, wondering what’s driving the decision. Money is always a huge component — if you’re not making money, it’s very hard to justify the time and effort you’re spending, but I don’t know a lot of authors who would stop writing if they weren’t getting paid. It’s part of our souls, something we’re compelled to do.

But for a writer to actually quit — there’s more to it than the living.

Is it fear of success? Of failure? Actual desperation and depression, a cry for help?

I don’t think you can ever fully know the reason a writer — an artist — decides to walk away from their art. It’s a heartbreaking decision, no matter how you cut it, both for the artist and for the fans.

I think the first time I saw a writer publicly quit was my debut year, when an author I followed religiously started to unravel. Here I was, on top of the world, unable to connect with this author’s struggles. I couldn’t imagine wanting to walk away, couldn’t imagine what had happened to spoil this glorious job. 

A decade later, I see the struggle that author was having all too clearly.

I’ve been though my own turmoils. I’ve lost faith in myself, I’ve lost faith in the industry. I too thought about quitting. I got myself stuck in the middle of a huge creative quagmire, when nothing was working and everything I touched seemed to blacken, curl up, and die. It wasn’t a fun time.

That’s when I read Julie Cameron’s THE ARTIST’S WAY and realized how ungracious I was being toward my gift. At the end of the 12 weeks, I’d found my voice again, and had the energy and faith to start over again.

So when I saw my writer friend quit, I reached out immediately. This is part of what I said:

No one, and I mean no one, is a successful author because of either conference attendance OR swag. The only thing that brings success is writing, more and more and more, getting better with each story finished and never giving up. Cultivate readers, not other writers. Treat your writing like the job it is. Invest in yourself: your brain energy, your reading, your awesomeness. Most importantly, get a book called THE ARTIST'S WAY by Julia Cameron. Do the work, religiously. I guarantee you'll feel differently about your career after. I did. And remember, we all go through this.
 

Let me emphasize one point: We all go through this. We do. We lose the forest for the trees and the words turn to muck and we can’t see a path, any path, that allows us to feel like a success.

And that’s okay.

You’re allowed to have fallow times. You’re allowed to walk away for a bit. The seesaw balancing act authors have to do now, coupling the business with the art, takes its toll. Hang up your laptop for a while. Walk away from your story. 

Use the time wisely. Walk. Meditate. Journal. Read. Develop a yoga practice. Volunteer. Adopt a pet. Do The Artist’s Way. But figure out what it is that’s really holding you back.

Be honest with yourself. Honesty is the only path out. Figure out if your expectations of your career are realistic, or if you’re just sitting back waiting for lightning to strike. 

If this is your path, you will find a way back to the page. Remember that everything happens for a reason. You may need to change genres. You may need to change agents. You may need to take more time off. 

But be gentle with yourself.

This is a big decision. And thankfully, it doesn’t have to be final.

In case you’re wondering, both writers I mentioned in this piece are still writing and publishing. They didn’t need to quit.

Like me, they simply needed a break. 

3.3.16 - On Finishing and Beginning

I finished my 17th novel this week.

I’m a bit starry eyed at that number — I’m only 2 away from starting #20 (20!), which, at some point early in my career, was the litmus test number. At 20 novels, I’ll feel like I’ve actually arrived.

At 20 novels, I’ll feel, at last, like I’ve accomplished something real. (We’ll see about that, won’t we?)
 

When my first came out, back in 2007, I was at a cocktail party in New York at my editor’s house, and a true professional, Kat Martin, told me that you couldn’t count yourself as a real writer until you had four novels under your belt. Some authors would have taken that the wrong way; I took it as confirmation of what I already knew. Everyone can write one good book. To do it again and again and again takes a strange combination of humility and ego and fearlessness and hubris, all tied together with yarn weaved from the hair of your Muse.

 It’s not easy. It’s not. But dear Lord in heaven, it is fun to try. 
 

When I finished, late Sunday afternoon, I had all the usual emotions: happiness, relief, a strong desire for a LOT of wine, which was quickly followed by that bizarre, hollowed-out moment when your realize the story no longer belongs to you. It’s gone, into the ether. Yes, there will be revisions; yes, there will be rereads. I don’t know if it’s the same for every author, but when I type The End, my mind immediately turns to the next story. It’s so immediate, in fact, that I have to force myself to take a day, breathe, live a little, before I open the new manuscript and lose myself again. 

So in the spirit of taking a day off, yesterday I printed out said book (600 pages later), put said book, the book’s notebook, and all the supporting research material into it’s own lovely zipper folder, then cleaned my office, sorted some tax material, had a multi-hour staff meeting with Assistant Amy wherein we planned world domination for NO ONE KNOWS (coming March 22!), read half of Lisa Gardner’s FIND HER, and waited. Because I knew what was going to happen.

And sure enough, around 9 pm, a line appeared in my head. And the next book began to percolate.
 

Now, to be fair, I already know what this book is about. It’s the second of the duology started with WHAT LIES BEHIND. It picks up right where WLB leaves off, as a matter of fact; the prologue of the new book is the epilogue of the last, just so we’re all on the same page. It’s the continuation of the story, in which Samantha Owens has been targeted by a killer nicknamed Beauty.   

I already know several things about this book. Technically, the Scrivener file shows 3200 words already written. It’s actually rather nice to have a bit of a head start—and yes, I agree, it’s cheating a little bit. But the words and notes in the file are almost a year old (I wrote the original opening line March 13, 2015, according to the Book Journal), so who knows it they’ll stand the test of time?

What’s funny is my line from last night is similar to the opening line I wrote down a year ago. That’s a long time for a line to live in a writer’s head. I’ve had the opening scene tucked in the back of my mind all this time. I hope I can do it justice.

Stephen King says a truly worthwhile idea doesn’t need to be written down.

He’s right. 
 

So today, with the file open, the Book Journal updated, I sally forth into a brand new world, returning to my girls, Taylor Jackson and Samantha Owens. Gosh, it’s good to be home!

Hello, #18!

3.2.16 - Wanna read Chapter 1 of NO ONE KNOWS - and win an iPad Mini?

Now's your chance! Click here to start reading. The first page is killer – kinda literally . . . 

3.1.16 - Literary title taken quite literally . . .