The Misguided Advice Of Loved Ones...

First off, let me shout out a big ol' thanks in Shiloh Walker's direction for her blog last week on the matter of BAD WRITING ADVICE. It was a much needed and welcome reminder that writing is as individual as the person who writes it.

Are we bound by absolute indisputable rules?

No, not as some would have you believe. Not all techniques work the same or the best for everyone- not everyone writes the same stories or about the same things or in the same genres.

Thank Heaven for small favors because otherwise there wouldn't be books worth reading if we all wrote exactly the same. Where's the fun in that? There would be no such thing as a "fresh voice." What would agents and publishers do? The discovery of fresh new voices is what keeps the business alive and thriving. It's what creates best-selling authors and gives us big names to follow because they are unique in their storytelling ablility.

And guess what? I bet they didn't follow all the hard and fast rules of writing to get where they are.

I'm sure you're wondering if this is leading anywhere...Do I have some brilliant thought or idea to toss your direction today? I suppose I do, but I won't know for sure until I get there myself...hahaha!

No, seriously— I do have something I'm pondering over today and that is a little something I call MISGUIDED ADVICE.

Family and friends are always good at giving you advice, cheering you on or offering words of wisdom or common sense to help us through in life and well, all the aspects of it. Sometimes I think they step off the crazy train because they don't THINK before they speak- or write.

It wasn't that long ago that I was emailing with a friend (who's name shall not be known)- and was telling her how hard it was for me to get back into my writing, that I just wasn't in the "right" place to write the stories I love the most. Mind you, this friend is old enough to be my mother— is in fact the mother of a very dear friend of mine— but she can be very critical and opinionated about just about any subject matter you talk with her about. I love her dearly, but the conversation she and had back and forth in this email was hurtful and stirred up my defenses in regard to the genre I write.

I write romance. I'm fairly sure you're aware of that the same as I am if you've been following me for very long. I have, from a very early age, considered myself a romance novelist. I feel no shame in that, though there are days where I don't feel very romantic or feel that I have any romance in my own life. There are days when real life puts the honkers on it and makes me wonder why I put so much value in love and romance and writing about it when my own life is NOT one big neverending fairytale. I'm sure we've all been there and felt that way...as if we know NOTHING about real love, real happiness, real joy.

There are days when I'm so tired or busy with all the other things that I HAVE to do, that I don't even want to think about it, even though I hope that it does exist. I want to believe, but there are days that I'd just as soon toss all that silly fluff out the window and be done with it because I'm just so mentally and emotionally drained from all the things in everyday life.

I thought I expressed this eloquently and in a way that my friend would understand. That writing romance is hard when you don't feel like you have a grasp on the subject matter. Instead I got miguided advice from someone who thinks she's an expert on the matter because she has college degrees in library science and business and worked for years as a librarian. I got remarks like—

"Have you ever thought about writing something besides love stories? I'm not trying to be negative, BUT....I was a librarian and we classified books in different categories and those definitely had a category. They always say to write what you know and if romance is not something you know, then it has to be hard to write about it." (OUCH! Thanks a LOT!)

"Maybe you should start calling your books under a different genre, it could make a world of difference. Maybe you should stick with the label of fiction rather than love stories. If it's just called a love story or romance, it's automatically tossed aside as airport trade; fluff reading or trash or nothing with quality. It would never be read closely enough to be called a classic. If a book is just labeled as romance it deserves a bad rap. Call them fiction and focus on the life stories but never call them romance or love stories."

Wow....just WOW.....

She also implied the only women who read romance novels are unhappily married women like she was in her youth...then she closed off by saying that she felt like she "discouraged" me though it wasn't her intention and that she guessed it would all depend on the mood I was in when I read it, but that it really was meant in a positive way..... Pretty amazing when you add to it that this friend of mine believes in soul mates. Hmmmm....Sounds bitter to me...

It's taken me MONTHS to compute this in my brain, and my HEART, that someone I consider a good friend would say such a thing...Honestly...the fact that she has college degrees and was a librarian doesn't weigh that heavily on my opinion. She's like so many others who see romance novels as trashy, bodice rippers. She devalued every romance author I know and love as though what they write is dirt and though I'm not published, that lumps me in there too and it really makes me mad because I KNOW for a fact there are a LOT of talented, wonderful writers in my genre and her "professional" opinion leaves me begging the question—

Is the misguided advice of loved ones always worth it? No- its like bad writing advice...sometimes its well-meaning, but its not always valuable in a productive, positive way. We just need to remember to weed out the bad parts so it doesn't choke and stifle our inspiration and creativity. Bless their tactless, thoughtless hearts...they don't always know what they're talking about.

It also begs the question of how much longer the romance genre will be treated like the black sheep of the writing industry family. What did we do to deserve that honor? And why does it seem more like a punishment?

Have a great start to the week Peeps!

Write On!

Has It Been THAT Long?

Wow, nearly a month has gone by since my last blog. Sadly, the reason that's the case is because I haven't had much to say.

Things have been hectic since the 4th of July, though I didn't mention it in the previous post. We had car trouble coming back from my parents' on the 4th and have been dealing with the bank, the insurance company, the mechanic, etc ever since.

Seems our Corolla's engine had taken all it could take and the o-rings gave out- as my husband called it. Of course, the car had almost 170,000 miles on it and it had done good to make it as long as it did. The quickest solution was to buy another car after refinancing our loan through the bank, but we ran into many a hiccup, not because our credit was bad or anything. No, that was great, but the bank just wanted to willy-nilly the process because we "didn't ask for enough" on our refinance- so, not to get into the long technicals, but we did eventually get a loan of sorts that actually paid off our home equity loan, allowed us to buy another vehicle and get our Corolla fixed.

As for the *new* vehicle- it's a 2002 Kia Spectra, white, with only 54,000 miles on it. The only hitch in the plan to buy it was that it had had a front end wreck and the guy had to fix it, so that took a bit of time and in the meanwhile we borrowed hubby's dad's truck for a couple of weeks.

Of course, on top of that, the guy had a couple of Toyota engines, one already out of the car body, with only about 67,000 miles on it that he said he could drop in our Corolla, so now that we have the Kia, we're just waiting on the Corolla to be done as well and we'll have two vehicles~ fingers crossed that once I FINALLY get back to practicing driving and get my license, the Kia will be mine. In fact, I've already named him- yes- HIM, since I'm female and well, if men can name their cars after women, I'm naming mine after a male- a favorite "hero" of a favorite book.

Here's my reasoning- it's called a "spectra" which puts me in the mind of a spectre, so I decided that the name Jasper suits it- from a ghost character in one of my favorite YA novels called Strut by Bruce and Carole Hart. He was a rockstar from the 60's who died too young and believes his "unfinished business" is to help redheaded 17 y/o Holly Hannah become a rockstar in a battle of the bands competition.

I LOVE that story for so many reasons, on so many levels, even at 35 and so- I'm dragging the ghost of Jasper Rollins from the book and breathing him to life- in a way, as my Kia Spectra. Call me crazy- I don't care. LOL

Mix into all this a trip to Beech Bend Amusement Park, back to school shopping for ALL those supplies & new clothes to replace what the kids have outgrown, washing all the new clothes and typical preparation- meeting the teacher at Open House, filling out forms, etc and I'd have to say I was honestly GLAD to see July go. It was too busy with not a chance to sit and take a breather.

It was also too much of a distraction to be able to work on my revisions. My determination and concentration melted in the heat or was stifled by an absolute lack of time alone to work quietly.

Yes...I can honestly say that until Sunday evening for maybe 45 minutes to an hour while hubby and the kids were gone to the grandparents' so Little Man could get his hair cut before school started, I hadn't had a moment of quiet, much cherished and sought after alone time just for me ALL summer. I was so thrilled that I threw myself in the tub for a long overdue extended hot shower that I could actually enjoy because I didn't have someone pecking at the door saying "I need to use the potty," or "What are you doing?"

It was almost like getting spa treatment! Haha!

Today was my official first day to myself though, as I'm sure you can tell.

They gotta go back, back, back to school again...whoa whoa, they gotta go- back to school.....again! LOL

So, my day has been nice- quiet... I put them on the bus, did 2 miles on the Gazelle, which I also haven't done in MONTHS, showered, started laundry, and have just been taking me time to breath time..... Going to eat lunch and then fall into one of my manuscript files and start getting my head back in the game.

Have a wonderful Tuesday, but most definitely take it easy with these scorching temperatures we're supposed to have the next few days! Drink plenty of fluids and don't be out in it if you don't have to!

Leaping Back Through Time

That's what I've decided to do.

No, I haven't built a time machine or a quantum leap accelerator- but I have decided I need to put my priorities in order and well, I know I'm in the middle of writing one story that I've left unfinished in my lackadaisical haze- set in modern times, but I'm contemplating submitting my historical romance with paranormal elements, so I need to get it in the best shape I possibly can.

And that's why I have given myself over to another time and place in recent days- rereading my manuscript and making necessary adjustments in late 1790's Virginia.

I'm wandering the sandy coastline, knowing the mist hides an apparition brought on by guilt, or perhaps a soul at unrest... I can't be sure. Chilled breezes sweep in, sand and surf enveloping me in this other world- a world that rose up within me and came to life the moment I set it in words with each clickity-clack of the keyboard. I've been away for a while, having forgotten myself as a writer, forgetting how this story haunted me until it was finished.

This one stuck to me like glue for months, even before I started writing it, all the while I researched the time period, it hovered around me during the day and then followed me to bed at night- not just the story, but the characters, the setting.

I guess it needed me... Needed me to tell it, to write it, to release it, just as all the stories I write do. For me it's such a personal process and though I joke that it's like having multiple personalities, sometimes it really IS like that.

A few years ago they wouldn't shut up, but for a while now the characters- the voices in my head- have hushed- absolutely clammed up. They've lain dormant for well over a year- since the infamous Misplacement of my Mojo and the Hibernation of my Butterfly.

I'm starting to think they knew I needed a mental break from them. You can only hear so many voices telling you this, that and the other before it makes you a little batty. Mwhahaha!

But, perhaps that's what I needed all along.

And perhaps now is the time for me to travel backward for a bit- into a time I can't possibly know, but that seems to know me, call to me, embrace me.

Perhaps the things I feel have gone missing will wash up on the shores of the past and I can pull them back into my present once I'm done.

Off to wander the misty haunted shores....

Where DOES the Mojo Go?

When it doesn't feel like you have "it" anymore, where does it go?

Does it disappear? Do we "lose" it?

Or does it simply vacation on us from time to time, hiding when Life overshadows it?

Mojo is different for everyone, but we all have something that drives us—something that, just like anything worth having, is worth searching for. Especially during those times when we feel the most lost- it's then we should seek it and draw from it or we might never understand our full potential or what we're truly capable of.

In the past year or so, I've not followed that advice—at all—I honestly hadn't been thinking about it that way.

So many times, Life sets our Mojo on the back burner or up on a shelf- one of those items that when we get so caught up in our lives, we sometimes forget where we placed it, even though it's essential to who we are to a great extent.

Well, my Mojo has been on vacation for a long time (too long) and I'm trying hard to find it again. This year I declared it felt like my year for change and so far, I've done nothing to prove to myself that it is. I swing back and forth between courage and fear—swing like a pendulum do—

And it's not just my Mojo who's gone missing. My inner butterfly has wrapped herself up in her wings and forgotten how to fly. Strong, brave and beautiful enough to soar toward her dreams, she is also fragile enough to fall and doubt herself more times than I care to count.

But there's a light at the end of this tunnel. I look for signs in all things around me and last week, during a yard sale we had while I was up visiting my family, there it was~ a sign—

Never in my life have I been able to photograph a butterfly SO close up, but this one seemed drawn to me and kept lighting on the quince bush near where I was sitting on the swing with my sister. I don't know what kind it is- the outer wings that you can see were a brown/gray with orange spots, but I was unable to get it to sit still long enough to capture the backside when it's wings were spread wide- the upper wings were still dark brown/gray, but the lower set had metallic blue. I've researched online this morning and the closest I've come to identifying it is as a pipevine swallowtail, though this one doesn't have the extra "tips" on its tails and it has a lot more orange spots than most I've found images of.

Either which way, it's a butterfly with metallic blue on it's wings (which is personally significant to me) and well, it kept coming back around and when I got too close it would fly toward me and then flutter away, as though it were playing a game of chase with me when I tried to take more pictures of it. Needless to say, it meant something. I'm not sure WHAT yet, but I'm looking forward to finding out.

Here's to finding my Mojo and to drawing my butterfly out of her hiding place, too. Happy Thursday!