When We are Wanted

When you spend long enough doing a certain thing, no matter what it is, I think, you put down roots.  You meet people.  And you find things you might not have been looking for, but now would never, ever trade. 

Blogging has been like that for me.  I'm not sure why I started that first LiveJournal in 2004, exactly, except that I enjoyed writing, enjoyed being read, and thought making money off of blogging was a thing (uh, yeah).  And while I haven't exactly hit the financial motherlode, I have discovered exquisite treasures that I never expected.

Story Sessions, an online community of writers run by Elora Ramirez, is one of those things.  A few of my online friends had taken Elora's intro ecourse, Story 101, and I like what I saw of them and their writing enough to give it a try myself.  I enrolled in 101 in the spring of 2013, and have never looked back.  I went on to take Elora's next course, Story 201, and participate in online retreats and workshops. 

The writing part of Story Sessions is good.  It's really good.  Like, really good.  If you want help discovering your voice, discovering your why, pushing past fear, and finding your legs in the publishing industry, then Story Sessions is for you.

But that's not the greatest treasures that I've found here.

No, for me, it's the community itself, these amazing women, that are the unlookedfor diamond that fell, shining through the dust of excavation, into my lap.

So many people roll their eyes at me when I tell them that I met some of my best friends online.  That's not real community, they think or say.  Remote community can't ever compare to local community.

For a long time, I thought the same thing.  I thought that online community was lesser, less than.  I ached because I failed to find the in-person kindreds that I'd found in the women of Story Sessions.  I thought there was something wrong with me.

This June, though, those digital hands and feet grew flesh and blood.  I flew to Texas to take part in the annual Story Sessions retreat, and those women who were my "lesser" community, my "not as real because it's online" kindreds, stormed into my life and swept me off my feet with their unconditional love and caring.

I went into the retreat lonely, desperately lonely.  My soul has been leading me on walkabout, as you know, and to my dismay I've had to abandon the local friendships and attempts at friendships that I'd been selling myself to.  Not because there as anything wrong with those local people, not because they didn't or don't try hard to love me, but because (through no fault of their own) I felt wrong around them.

I went to Texas nursing this long-gaping wound of being different-in-a-bad-way, broken, of always being the outsider.  When I got to the retreat, I expected to be disappointed, to find myself the outsider once again.

And --

there were no outsiders.

These women, these women, they put their hands in my hands, rubbed my shoulders, pulled their fingers through my hair.  They celebrated my newborn book, and my heathenry.  They looked into my eyes and heard my words and found no fault there.

They saw me, and loved me -- as is.

No caveats.  No conditions.  No "I'm worried about you" or "you're on a slippery slope."

(Did you know that Story Sessions is a Christian community?  Doesn't sound like the "Christian" communities I hear way too much yuck about way too often.)

This condition-less love and acceptance -- well, I didn't expect it.  I hoped for it, but life had taught me that it was likely out of reach for me.

But it exists.  It exists for me, and for you.  It's out there, and it's powerful beyond the imagining.

In Texas, I found women who celebrate my quirks and eccentricities and odd little passions.  I found women who run after me, literally, when I run away, who see my soul weeping when I hide my tears.  I found women who reminded me of the sacred truths of my glorious soul, and who continue to remind me when I forget.  I found women who tell me that I am beautiful-in-all-ways, and mean it.  I found women who cry with me, who rage with me, who will not, cannot accept injustice.  I found women who I can snuggle on the couch with without wondering if I'm doing the wrong thing, and who love how I don't love small talk.  I found women who ask me to howl at the moon with them.

I found women that I'd bleed for.  I found the women that would bleed for me.

I found the artists and renegades and lovers and world-changers.  And because of them, I remembered that I am one myself.  
 

So -- if you're looking for a writing community, well, Story Sessions is a good one.  Story 101 is running for its final time, so this is your last chance to get in where it all began.

But be careful, because you're not only getting a writing education when you sign up.  You just might find that you've found your courage, and the holiness in the darkest places of your soul, and some of the truest friends that you could ever have hoped for.

Online community is real.  It is true and authentic and alive.  And the folks you meet online have the powerful ability to slip quietly into your heart and turn your life upside down in the best of ways.

I hope that this is the case for you, no matter what digital hook you may hang your hat upon.  It has been one of my greatest privileges and joys to discover it for myself.

If you're interested in the final run of the ecourse that started it all, you can learn more about Story 101 here.

*this post contains affiliate links

My Perfectly Imperfect Book Launch

I wrote a book.  And published it.  It's out there in the world right now, being both read and not read, as books are.  People own it.  This is exhilarating.  This is terrifying.

So.  Wondering how my indie book launch went?  Here's the good, the bad, the ugly, and the next-thing, plus a brief reflection on what I'll do differently the next time around.

The Good

Nearly 5,000 people downloaded a free Kindle copy of The Light Between Us.  A couple purchased a print copy, and a nice handful bought the Kindle edition after the freebie period ended.  It was ranked in the top 100 books in the free Kindle store, and was #1 and #2 in a couple of the free romance categories.  My expectations were exceeded by lightyears upon lightyears.  This is not just good.  This is really, really, really (really!) good. 

Also, my mother downloaded my book and read it in about a day, and then wrote to tell me that she loved it.  I can't tell you how much this means to me. 

And actually, she wasn't alone in reading The Light Between Us in a single day or so -- a number of you did.  Thank you and thank you and thank you for downloading your free copy, for reading, for the kind words you've sent me way, and for sharing my book with your friends.  I am deeply grateful. 

The Bad

I got a couple of less-than-glowing reviews.  This is not the bad thing -- opinions all over the map come with the territory of sharing your words with the world. 

The bad thing is that said reviews mentioned that my manuscript is rife with copy-editing errors.  After the first review, I scoffed.   

Editing errors?  I thought.  Are you serious?  I am a skilled writer and editor.  I graduated with honors in creative writing.  I'd never make the rookie mistake of launching a book that's less than polished, thankyouverymuch.

After the second one-star review, I stopped scoffing.  I went back into my manuscipt and started reading.

And -- felt my stomach plummet as I realized that those reviewers were right.  There really were a number of embarrassing copy-editing mistakes.  Missing words, misspellings, errant punctuations, and so forth.  And more than one or two.  

As Ruth, the protagonist of The Light Between Us might say, oh. shit.

(Humorous aside: one of these reviewers said that she was disappointed in my book's editing because my blog is so polished.  I almost never edit my blogs.  Shhh.)  ;)

The Ugly

Nearly 5,000 people own a copy of my book -- a book that I've just realized is, in spite of all my skills and editing efforts, rife with copy-editing errors.  That's not good.  This is not the ugly part, though.  

The ugly part is that this fact has filled me with shame.  My body is both weak and heavy with it.  My nerves are on edge, as if I've drunk a gallon of coffee (I haven't).  I want to hide and never stop hiding.  I want to weep.  I want to punch myself in the face.  I literally don't know how I'm going to look my family in the eyes at our Father's Day celebration later today.

(Grammar errors aside, these two reviewers also hated the story and/or characters.  Interestingly, this does not bother me at all.  I believe in my story, and have no qualms about others disliking the plot or Ruth or language choices or any of it.  Maybe the copy-editing stuff hits me so hard because that is something that's in my control?  And I do idolize my precious control.)

The Next

Okay.  Breathe, Beth, breathe.  
This is not the end.  You haven't killed your career before it even got off the ground.  

So, what's next?  Well, you'd better believe that I'm going back in for another round of copy-editing on The Light Between Us.  That's the beauty of indie publishing -- it's easily fixable.  I just hope that I don't have to eat too much grammar-flavored crow.  

And after that, I'm going back to work on my next novel.  I've mentioned it before -- a YA contemporary fantasy based loosely on Celtic myth involving magick, druidesses, and portals through time and space.  Oh yeah.  It feels like it'll be a much longer story than The Light Between Us (which is about 66,000 words, a short novel).  I'm currently 30,000 words into the Celtic-ish fantasy and am feeling like I'm only about a third into the plot.  Sign up for my newsletter if you'd like to get some sneak peeks sent to your inbox.  I might post an excerpt of two here on the blog as well.

Things I'll Do Differently Next Time

I plan on continuing to publish independently.  Because, well, I value that independence.  I make the rules.  And yeah, while that means that the burden responsibility falls on me when things go wrong, it also means that I get to keep all the profits and positives, too. 

I think I did pretty well for a first run, especially considering that I hadn't written a speck of fiction since 2010 before The Light Between Us.  But there are a few things I'd do differently:

• Refuse to be a slave to the deadline.  I announced that my book would be available on June 14, and then thought I had to meet that deadline come hell or high water.  And when it became apparent that I could do with a few more days before launch, I thought I couldn't take those days.  I forgot that, as an indie publisher, I set the rules.  So I pushed to get the book out, rushed the last round of edits, and stressed stressed stressed.  Next time I'll just give myself the extra days.
• Not get enough sleep.  I am a chronic not-sleep-enough-er.  I covet my time, and hate giving any of it up, even for something as important as sleep.  And I'm sure that this affected my editing capabilites.  Sigh.  Oops.  Sigh again. 
• Enlist more editing help.  I had a number of talented folks beta read The Light Between Us -- but not for editing.  I thought I could do that all myself, and knew that I couldn't afford to hire a copy editor (a good editor, like this fabulous one, charges around $2,000 -- yikes).  But I was wrong; I needed more editing eyes.  For my Celtic-ish novel, I already have a manuscript trade lined up with a fellow writer, in which we'll swap books and tear them apart, both for copy-editing errors and plot/characterization/inconsistencies/etc. 
• Consider not reading my reviews.  Or have my husband screen them for me, so he can point out what might be helpful criticism (like those reviewers who pointed out copy-editing issues -- as hard as that was to hear, it's also true, and I appreciate that, so thank you) versus the less constructive I just despise your writing opinions.  And yes, while I'd also miss out on reading positive reviews, I'm okay with that because I'm so hard on myself that I tend to have a difficult time truly believing praise.  Also, a dear friend pointed out to me that Brené Brown doesn't read her books' reviews and comments on her YouTube-d talks because the negative ones put her to bed for days.  And she's Brené Brown.  
• Writing this blog post.  If you've been reading my blog for any length of time, you've probably heard me talk about what a lifeline words are for me, particularly publicly processing my junk in this space.  So here I am, showing up, feeling the hard things, sifting voices, and writing my soul into sanity.  And now that I've finished, my body isn't vibrating as much, and I know this is going to be okay.   

Let me just say again -- publishing a book is terrifying.  And exhilarating.  And terrifying.  What a roller coaster I've been riding since baring my book to the world on Thursday.  Was my launch perfect?  Not by a long shot.  But I did it.  I did it.  And so can you.  That pie in the sky you've been eying?  It's not nearly as unreachable as it seems right now.  That ember of a dream you've been tending?  Fan it into flame.  Because it's important.  Because it matters, and you matter.    Because you can.  We can.  Let's hustle, and keep hustling.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be touching up The Light Between Us, and then diving back into my Celtic-ish creation.  In short, I'll be doing the work.   

What about you?

note: sometime between the time when I read the one-star reviews and now (prior to the publication of this post) one of said reviews disappeared.  not sure what happened there.  ah well. 

Owning My Awesome: 4 Key Tools for Writing a Novel in a Month

I blame my father-in-law.

He's the one who put the idea in my head, you see.  A screenplay and fiction writer (check out his stories here), one night as we gathered at his and my mother-in-law's house for dinner, he mentioned romance novels.

He knew a lady, he said, that was a good writer trying to self-publish her work, but no one was buying.  Then she'd heard how lucrative the romance fiction market was so, after doing a bit of research, she churned out a few romance novels of her own.  And -- they sold.  Like, a lot.  She's now completely sustained on income from her words.

I'd been missing writing when he told me this.  Writing fiction, that is.  Reading and writing stories has been in my blood since birth.  I studied creative writing in college, and have more than a few of my own NaNoWriMo novels, not to mention a host of poetry and short stories, under my belt. 

But I quit writing, back in early 2011.  Writing fiction had turned into a devastating trigger for my eating disorder.  It got to the point where the choice was between my health and my words.

I chose my health.  I walked away from fiction. Forever, I thought.

But I've been missing it.

So when my father-in-law mentioned romance fiction, I thought, why not?

Because romance novels are not serious.  They are fun and light and entertaining, even when there's conflict.  They end happily as a rule.

So I gave myself a month.  Try your hand at romance, I told myself.  Something you've never done before.  A genre you never dreamed you would write.  No pressure, no need for no one to ever read it.

And -- I did it. 

I did it.

Without triggering anything.

I wrote a damn novel, you guys.  And not a bad one either, if I do say so myself.

It'll be published soon.  June, I'm hoping.  I'll let you know when it's available.

And now -- I'm writing another one.

I'm writing books.  Sans triggers.

So what's different?  Why in 2011 was it a choice between life and living dead, a choice between fiction words and health, when now I'm sitting down nearly every day to churn out words and I'm okay?

A few things are different.  Big things.  Here they are -- my four key tools for writing that I didn't have (or didn't quite have) in 2011:

1. Community.  I'm not writing in a vacuum anymore.  Okay, I wasn't writing in a vacuum in 2011, either.  I had a few writer friends I'd met through Twitter, and we cheered each other on.  But now I have a lot more community.  I have a digital family of Story Sisters (and seriously, this group is the bomb -- please check it out).   I have friends and family who know I'm working on a novel, who ask me how it's going and urge me on, people who I can complain to and celebrate with.  People who care.  This is vital.
2. Accountability.  Accountability is an aspect of community, but is not the same.  It is more direct and deliberate than encouragement, and a little less nice (but no less kind).  It is more kick-you-in-the-ass and pass-the-chocolate than yay-let-me-hug-you.  I send my words every day to my husband, and update my word count here and with my amazing friend (who is also a writing coach).  I tell other friends I'm working on a novel.  I post my progress on Instagram and Facebook and Twitter.  I have people who will challenge me if I try to abandon my goal out of fear or boredom or {insert your favorite excuse here}.  These people are my word doulas, and I need them if I'm going to get through my book-birthing.
3. Believing in myself.  This is something that I completely lacked in 2011, and is absolutely key.  I felt guilty for taking time to write, when I could be doing something more "productive."  You know, like working in a traditional job that, no matter how awesome it was, sucked all of this ISFP's energy and left nothing for my dreams and passions, or my loved ones.  And while I do have guilt now, too -- this time of the you-are-a-bad-mom variety -- I push it aside because a) I love doing this work, b) I believe in my words and these stories, and c) I am drive by the very real and optimistic hope of being able to provide for my family by working damn hard at something I love doing.  I'm owning my awesome.  Working on Made last year was huge in how it taught me that my ideas matter, can impact many, and can provide income for my family.
4. Doing the work.  I am getting this shit done.  It's scary.  I procrastinate a lot, spend a good bit of time letting fear lead me to while away time on Facebook.  But when push comes to shove, I do the work.  I do it.  Every weekday, I send my sweet son to play at a drop-in childcare (which he adores -- no crying on the drop off with this guy) and hurry away to a nearby coffees shop where I spend a few hours punching out words.  That's where I am right now, in fact -- writing this post, and then getting to work.  In 2011, every morning I'd wake up and tremblingly wonder, "Will I write today?"  Now, this is not a question.  I will write today, and I will write 2,000 words today.  And then I go do it.  I guess that old "apply the seat of the butt to the seat of the chair" advice really works, huh?

That's how this mama churned out a light but textured and engaging romance novel in one month (stay tuned for its release -- June-ish!).  That's how I'm currently in the process of penning a delicious (and terrifying to write due to said deliciousness) novel loosely based on Celtic myth.  Has there been risk?  Oh yeah.  Paying for childcare, investing money in something that might come to nothing?  That's been scary, damn scary.

But it's also been worth it.  Even though our financial situation is tenuous at the moment, my husband fully supports my writing.  I'm following my dream.  The first big dream I ever, ever had (other big dreams included being a mega horse breeder, and becoming an astronaut and exploring the universe -- those are dreams currently on the back burner).  And that has meant everything.