Mammogram Time

Yep, that's right. I had my annual mammogram this morning. It'll be an annual event until I die or have my right breast removed.

It's the crap a breast cancer survivor faces.

I was in and out in roughly a half hour. A nice young lady named Michelle took the pictures and ran back to speak with the radiologist. Part of that half hour is giving the radiologist a chance to check my pics and compare them to the last several sets. Make sure there's no hinky business that need a further exam by ultrasound, a needle biopsy, or a core.

With the ultrasound, I only get slimed. The other two hurt like a mother.

Even though the mammogram is an annual, expected event, the fear comes out. The night before, I lay awake in bed and wonder if this will be the time the medical team will find something again. No matter what I do, what techniques I try, what sleep aid I take, rest doesn't come.

I went to the diagnostic center on four hours of sleep this morning. Luckily, it's only a mile from our house. If I didn't have to cross a major highway, I could walk there.

A couple of hours after I got home, I was out cold in my recliner. The exhaustion from fear eventually catches up with me.

I just wish I could avoid the fear.

Fear and Trying New Things

It's no secret that I've been looking at some alternative ways of spreading my stories. And I'm looking at some awesome possibilities that scare me to death.

Do I take the plunge? What happens if it doesn't work? What happens if it does? Can I maintain momentum?

I had a lot of problems with the one book a month Publishing Challenge. A lot of it was trying to sustain my pace of writing and editing when I couldn't get the fuck out of the apartment and away from my family just to think thanks to the fucking pandemic.

Then came a major move when we bought a house. The only saving grace was that the move was only across town.

But now, I'm roughly halfway through 2021. This was supposed to be a write-only month, but I still have a huge pile of prep work to finish for the paperbacks. (I have to pay the POD distributor extra to revise a paperback, so I really try to make sure they're right.) And I'm literally working on four novels at the same time.

So am I using the scut work to shy away from a new distribution idea? Yeah, I am.

Which is stupid. I should be jumping in with both feet. My fear makes it even more important that I try the new thing.

And I need to do it now.

How to Give Your Mother a Heart Attack

Ah, the story about Genius Kid's car I mentioned on Wednesday...

 

Any parent knows the terror of a teen with a driver's license. However, Genius Kid has always been an excellent driver. Safety-conscious. Aware of his responsibilities. When he was about to leave the house, I'd say, "Be careful." He'd roll his eyes, and I would add, "It's not your driving I worry about, sweetie. It's the other assholes on the road."

 

So, Monday night, Darling Husband got a text from GK. It read, "I was just in an accident."

The last time I saw that particular expression on DH's face was the night his mother died. For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

DH texted back, "Are you okay?"

GK: "Yeah. I'll call you in a while."

 

It was a tense couple of hours before GK was back at his barracks and called us.

Sure enough, it was another asshole who rear-ended GK. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and there was another soldier with GK, who insisted on calling the cops. Their sergeant stepped in as the parental figure and helped GK with the details. Our insurance company jumped on the situation that night. GK dropped off his car at the auto body shop today. If all goes well, GK will be able to depart on his holiday leave next Friday as planned.

But those two hours waiting for GK to call were the worst in my life.

 

Even though DH pointed out the kid was well enough to text us.

Goes to show your child is never too old for you to worry about them.

Sunshine on Snow

After Saturday's snow, the world looks pristine and white. Why does this appearance please us writers, but a blank white screen does not?

Maybe because we don't look beneath the surface of our computer screens. Maybe because we're scared to.

Like footsteps across the field, our typing mars the surface of our screen. Inside our head, the idea resides in crystalline perfections forever. Once we commit to writing it, we see the flaws. In fact, we focus on the flaws rather than work with them.

Understand that the flaws are like the silent, sleeping trees in the picture. Yes, their stark blackness ruins the pristine surface of the snow across the field. However, they are beauty in their own right. And they are waiting for conditions to change in order to grow and flourish.

So keep typing. Your black slashes on a blanket of white will become something beautiful as the seasons turn.

Stay on Target! Stay on Target!

Red Leader's Force ghost has been hovering over me lately, extorting me to, of course, "Stay on target!"

While finishing Hero Ad Hoc doesn't compare to blowing up the Death Star, I find myself running into the same trap of fear Red Squadron faced in their attack. I'd hoped to finish the novel last week when I had some relatively free time.

But doctor appointments start up again today. In fact, I've probably been to my first appointment and gone by the time you read this. And I'm beginning to feel like I'm never going to finish this damn book.

I've even resorted to working on Hero De Novo and another unnamed project just to feel like I'm moving forward. It's only a hundred to two hundred words every day or so, but it is enough to spur me back to Hero Ad Hoc.

Normally, I'd chalk up my reluctance to finish to my usual "don't want the story to end" mindset. However, the majority of this book was written after my breast cancer diagnosis.

Yep, a mere fifty thousand words in the last three months. Which is low for me, but hey! Given the circumstances, that's actually pretty good!

I don't know if it's superstition, premonition, or what, but I feel like something's going to happen when I finish this book.

Like everything's going to change.

Which is weird because life is constant change.

It is fear, but a different type of dread. I wish I knew what the hell Red Leader was really trying to tell me. As Luke Skywalker can tell you, Force ghosts are rarely clear in their exhortations and even less cooperative.

Unless it's Yoda blowing up the frickin' Tree of Knowledge.

How Can You Have a Lack of Ideas?

I've had a vague sci-fi idea in the back of my mind for some time now. So I asked my friend Jo, who designs both computer games and board games as well as writes superhero novels, for some recommendations on books for game theory. And he gave me a ton of reference links and material.

That led to him asking about the idea, which I really couldn't explain because I'm not sure at this point. And who knows? It might fizzle before it becomes fully formed. But if it does congeal, I'll add it to my idea folder.

But this is how my brain works. I'm wrapping up the Bloodlines series. I've started the Justice series. The first book of the 1-888-555-HERO series is almost done. I'm two-thirds of the way into another book that will become another series. Then there's the Four Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse which I was writing while sitting in the student pick-up line last year (which won't be happening this year now that GK is driving himself to high school).

And that all led to our conversation of how can a writer NOT have ideas. I mean, the list above will keep me busy for at least two years. That doesn't even begin to count my ideas under Alter Ego. Nor doesn't it count the ideas sitting in my idea folders. And what about the sci-fi ideas I already have outlined that I may publish under a different name for marketing reasons?

Jo's pretty much in the same boat. In fact, most writers I know have a mega-ton list of ideas sitting in a paper file, a computer file, or both.

So what's happening when someone says they're blocked and can't come up with ideas?

Generally, it goes back to the single biggest stopper of a writing career--FEAR! Fear of not having the big idea. Fear of readers hating the story after you've put so much work into it. Fear of wasting time and not making any money.

If it's not fear, maybe you have to face the fact you're a one-book-idea person. If you don't believe that's the case, then guess what? We're back to the FEAR issue.

Yep, FEAR is that freaking insidious. And you have to find a way to drive back the forces of darkness.

"How?" you ask. All I can tell you is what works for me. Take a break. Take a shower. Take a walk. But my number one cure for coming up with an idea?

Clean my teenage son's toilet. Trust me. You'll want to do just about anything besides that!

Finish Things

I've heard this advice from a lot of long-term pro writers I respect. Dean Wesley Smith repeats this piece quite frequently under Heinlein's Rules of Writing. But I don't think it really sunk into my brain until Neil Gaiman posted a picture of this phrase written in Sharpie on his hand. And I was reminded of the term this week on Will Wheaton's blog.

This summer, I've been sending quite a bit of work to my formatter and my cover artist. My formatter commented that she'd been backed up the last couple of months and this wasn't her normal busy period. I replied that I couldn't vouch for any other writers, but I was simple trying to finish all the projects I started three years ago.

Yep, in ten days, it will be three years since the insane odyssey of trying to sell our house in Texas and moving to Ohio began. Things went wrong. Then more things went wrong. And then a few more.

Through it all, I kept writing. I just didn't have the focus to edit, much less publish, what I was writing. On top of that, I was so stressed out I'd get stuck on one piece, so I'd set it aside and start something else. That happened a lot.

So I've got a ton of idea pieces sitting on my hard drive in various states of completion. I'm trying to finish them as fast as I can. And I'm keeping other people busy and paid, too.

And the spice, aka words and money, must flow!

Seriously though, the older more experienced pro writers are right. The hard part is finishing what you start. I had life shit hold me back. Don't let your own fear hold you back.

Trad Publishing Is Bonkers Over the Author Earnings Report

The ninth quarterly Author Earnings Report came out Monday. For those who've been sailing around the Caribbean for the two years (oh, wait! that's one of AE's authors, and it's only been for the last couple of months), AE is a project put together by SFF writer Hugh Howey and his partner Data Guy.

Basically, these two gentlemen have developed spiders that crawl through the Amazon book data and scrape info concerning the sales of genre books on a given day. They then spreadsheet and smoosh and extrapolate whatever's happening in the wilds of Amazon to the book industry. The really cool thing is they make the raw data available for the public so we can also spreadsheet and smoosh and extrapolate to our little hearts' content, too.

The first report came out with very little fanfare except among indie writers. It showed that we were selling a pretty decent chunk of e-books on Amazon. It reassured us that this e-book self-publishing thing wasn't a flash in the pan.

As more reports came out, trad publishing pundits first made fun of the reports. They called it wish fulfillment. But with each successive report, the laughter died, and the complaints about their collection methodology began. As more reports rolled in, the complaints became shriller.

With the latest report (mind you, this is all being done by a couple of guys as a hobby), certain insiders are calling for AE to be audited. So what's behind all the mockery and complaints?

Fear. Simple unrelenting fear.

More and more of trad publishing's normal news channels are reporting falling sales. Let's face it--the savior over Christmas for the trad publishers was the popularity of adult coloring books. There hasn't a major fiction blockbuster since Fifty Shades of Gray in 2012.

The AE report shows where those missing sales are going, the pockets of indies. And this terrifies the Manhattan literati. So much so that Porter Anderson is calling for the duo to be audited and Lee Child mocks them for inaccuracy.

If indies were as inconsequential as many in trad publishing believe, then there is no reason for the uproar. But that screaming gets louder with each successive report. The fear has gone from general unease to full-blown panic.

What does this all mean?

To me, not a damn thing. I've played with their raw data enough to confirm what I already knew. I've gone from making a week's worth of groceries in my first year of publishing my work to paying for my son's oral surgery out of pocket.

Now. if you will excuse me, I need to write and publish a few more books because GK needs his wisdom teeth out this summer.

Taking Care of Medical Business

The reason I didn't get a post written this morning was because I was too busy freaking out. As long-term readers know, DH was diagnosed with colon cancer twenty years ago. He was scheduled for a colonoscopy this morning. And that old, irrational friend FEAR was back with a vengeance.

Every time DH goes in for this procedure, FEAR insidiously creeps into my gray matter. What if the doctor finds something? What if its cancer? What if DH doesn't beat it this time?

It doesn't help that a writer I liked and respected, Jay Lake, passed from the same disease a year ago. It doesn't help that a good friend of DH's was diagnosed two months ago. Those incidents are just snacks to FEAR.

Thankfully, Doctor Y doesn't have hang-ups  about ex-attorneys watching him work. Under HIPPA, DH had to sign off on me being an observer, which he rather enthusiastically did. (Yes, we have a weird relationship.) Watching the inside of DH's large intestine on HD TV was pretty cool. Even better, DH came through with flying colors.

In fact, DH did so well he doesn't have to go back for five years. Maybe I'll take up Doctor Y's offer to let me drive the camera next time. *smile*

Why I Don't Talk About My Writing Process

In case you don't follow Dean Wesley Smith or Joe Konrath (and frankly, if you're indie publishing or want to indie publish, you should be), both of them are talking about their writing process.

In Dean's case, he's been doing a writing in public series for August. He's a true panster, and for a hybrid like me, it's interesting watching him go through his day.

Yesterday, Joe came clean on four humor books he published under a pseudonym. In his case, he was trying to find the fun in writing again by doing doing something crazy and off-the-wall. He claims he blew his own rules of indie publishing out of the water, but is still making money on these books. (Personally, I don't think he did break his rules, but that's a post for another day.)

So, two different experiments, two experienced writers. But it's the comments that are most educational.

Basically, writers are afraid to let their freak flag fly. "Oh, my god, what would people think of me?" "I'll ruin my career!" "You can't write that fast! The book won't be any good!"

*sigh*

I give both Dean and Joe a lot of credit for growing a damn thick skin over the years. They don't let the stupid comments from people get to them. And I really do admire them for that.

I, on the other hand, am so fucking sick of confrontation. After the kerfluffle when I announced I was going indie, I've been actively avoiding most writers.

In the year since I quit the day job and started writing full-time, I've been working pretty damn hard to improve my craft. Writing faster. Trying new forms such as short stories. Experimenting with styles and techniques. And I'm getting the same comments from writers as Dean and Joe. "Oh, my god, what would people think of you?" "You'll ruin your career!" "You can't write that fast! The book won't be any good!"

Which means I'm down to a handful of people I can talk writing with. And it isn't anything I've actually done "wrong." It all comes down to the other people's fear.

So if you ask me for advice, you might only get a platitude from me until I get to know you better. Nothing personal, but I don't want your fear.

Now, if you can let go of the fear-monster and want to try something new, Joe's running a challenge at his blog. Write a short story, edit it, format it, create a cover, and upload it to Amazon within eight hours. Once it goes live, e-mail Joe the link and he'll mention you on his blog. I did it in seven hours and thirty-four minutes, but I got side-tracked looking at cute bulldog pictures. A lot of people did it much faster.

Try it. I dare you. In fact, I double-bulldog dare you.

Fear of Failure

Last night, I was working on Blood Sacrifice when I realized I need a scene that tied the primary climax of Blood Magick into the events of this story. For the first time in writing this book, I simply wrote a two-page prologue without overthinking it.

Why all the problems with this particular book? What it all comes down to is fear of failure. I've never let this fear stop me before, but now, it became a HUGE problem with Blood Sacrifice. It's been so bad that I'm finally admitting to you all, this is the third fucking draft of this book.

What has happened to me with this novel? It hasn't been just one thing. Phillippa was literally the first character to pop in my head for the saga that eventually became the Bloodlines series. As a result, I'm super-protective of her, which if she were a real person, she would kick my ass for doing so.

This story is not a new romance, or a continuation thereof, like the other couples in the series. Phil and Alex were parted by circumstance beyond their control, only to have successive events drive them further and further apart. Part of me is very nervous about the getting the nuances of a reunion story just right.

Then there is the plot itself. Blood Sacrifice is the major turning point in the over-arching saga where the reader learns just what those damn nanites are turning Sam into (even though she's not in the book) and the ramifications of her transformation.

So what it comes down to is I'm putting so much pressure on myself to be perfect that nothing has been working quite right.

Until last night. The proverbial lightbulb went off, I wrote the prologue, and I know what to do with the story now to fix my previous dissatisfaction.

Then this morning, Dean Wesley Smith posted about a personal anecdote that really hit home. I wasn't the me who loves to make up stories in the driver's seat. It was the fearful, tentative kid who tried to be perfect in the hope that her mom would love her.

A few choice expletives went through my head at that realization.

But I have passed the halfway point and I'm on the downhill slide. The right person is in the driver's seat again. I'm feeling pretty good about the story.

Now, I just have to get Phil and Alex out of Hell...

A Very Odd Day

Yesterday, I finally got up the nerve to register Angry Sheep Publishing on Bowker and acquire a hundred ISBNs.

"Why, when you can get them for free from Smashwords?" you ask.

Because I want those ISBNs registered under MY company's name, not someone else's.

Except I held off on pulling the trigger for nearly a month. Not because of the cost (I'd saved up the money from the last couple of months' receipts), but because of the fear. Acquiring ISBNs made the whole business process TOO real. I lost my last business thanks to the economic insanity of 9/11 and the Enron collapse following on the heels of the tech market crash. All three events in 2001 did a number of the Houston economy.

I don't want to lose another business to factors beyond my control. Stupid, I know. Everything in publishing, but the actual writing, is beyond my control.

Then Bridget McKenna, a regular commentor at The Passive Voice, let me know that my books were mentioned in Amazon's latest newsletter. I can't confirm this since I don't subscribe to Amazon's newsletter.

The whole thing was very odd to me, not that I question Bridget's veracity, but because my sales are not in the Amanda Hocking/J.A. Konrath atmospheric levels.

D.H. believes it may be their way of apologizing for the kerfluffle over Creating a Business Plan for the Indie Writer. I think someone was assigned to physically verify that the rest of my books weren't smurched from the public domain and got hooked on one of the stories.

Whatever the reason, the odd mix of fear and excitement made sleep elusive last night.

Pet Peeve Alert - Whiny Writers

I'm about to have a rant, so if you don't want to read it, click away now.

Okay, you're still here. Don't say I didn't warn you...

I've been getting some shit from other writers lately that's pissing me off. It's the "I can't possibly do X" whine, a particularly pernicious meme in the writer community.

I understand that there's a big difference between "I don't wanna do X" versus "I can't possibly do X."

"I can't possibly do X" translated means "I'm too fucking lazy or too fucking scared to try to do X."

And no, I'm not talking about self-publishing, though this rant could apply.

I've had someone say she could make money writing erotica like I do, but she can't write about kinky stuff. Who the hell said she had to?

Other people have mentioned that they love A/B/C genre and wished they could write it. Then write A/B/C genre! "It would take too much time to research."

My personal favorite (which set off the rant)? Someone told me today that I should write Y genre because I would be good at it and then proceeded to give me a plot.

Me: "It's your plot idea. You write it."

Someone: "I can't write Z the way you do."

Then fucking learn! Somehow I managed to put that thought a little more P.C., but then the truth came out. She was too lazy to study Z.

Here's the moral of the story:

If you want to do something, you try and fail, then I'll be there with a box of tissue and some chocolate. But if you can't even fucking try?


STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!

Can Somebody Remove My Amygdala Please?

Currently re-reading - Storm Front by Jim Butcher

Within the last week, the subject of fear has come up on my life.  A lot.

During my brainstorming lunch with Classy Christie Craig last Wednesday, I admitted that part of my problem with my current wip was my own fear.  For some reason, I've invested too much of myself in this project, and I'm scared it won't be perfect, won't meet the picture I envision in my mind, won't be accepted by the people I present it to.

Over the weekend, I read an article on the Forbes website about a woman whose amygdala was destroyed by disease.  Since the amygdala is the part of the brain that triggers fear, she has no experience with fright.  Unfortunately, as a result, she gets herself into situations most of us would avoid.  Dangerous situations.  Like guns and knives dangerous.  But scientists hope that by learning more about this woman, they will develop techniques and drugs to help people whose amygdalas are in overdrive, people that have anxiety disorders and PTSD.

Then today, when I picked up the latest copy of Witches & Pagans, publisher Anne Newkirk Niven's editorial concerning subtle effects of cultural fear hit me in the gut.  As Ms. Niven wrote, the "battle for Pagan civil rights begins at home."

We writers fear rejection.  Like the folks with PTSD, our amygdala goes into overdrive over a perceived threat to, not our physical well-being, but to the well-being of our all-too-fragile egos.  And to paraphrase Ms. Niven, the battle for validation of our work begins at home.  We must see ourselves as worthy of publication in order for it to happen.

As my mentor Colleen Thompson has repeatedly said, every writer needs a kernel of arrogance to make it in the publishing business.  And it's that kernel of arrogance that will cut the engines of our amygdalas back down to idle and allow us to write and submit our work.

When Fear Rules

Currently reading - Poisoned Kisses by Stephanie Draven

Skip on over and read Bruce Schneier's blog on terrorism and security.  I'll wait.
...

I agree with Bruce.  In my opinion, the terrorists have already won.  They've forced us to do things that are totally against our ideals.

So what does this have to do with writing?

We let other people's fears affect us.  "What makes you think you can write?"  "Do you know what the odds are of actually getting published?"  "Why are you wasting your time with that bullshit?  Get a real job!"

It takes a lot of courage to write down your ideas.  It takes even more courage to let other people read your words.  And you don't have to worry about swinging from the end of a rope for your writing like Thomas Jefferson did.  Remember that little thing he wrote?  The Declaration of Independence?

My greatest worry in today's current atmosphere of fear is that I will have to be concerned about the hangman's noose.

Self-Sabotage

Currently reading - Undead and Unfinished by MaryJanice Davidson

Bob Mayer has been blogging excerpts from his book, Warrior Writer, over at Genreality.

(Sidenote: Bob will be the education speaker November 13th at the West Houston RWA meeting. See the WHRWA website for more info.)

Recently, he wrote an interesting piece on self-sabotage, on how we writers allow our fears to become our greatest enemy to our goals. That's right. It's not the agents who don't get our work, the editors who only give assignments to their friends, or the other writer who got the contract that should have been ours.

99.99% of the time, we are our own worst enemy.

Think of the times you got a request from an editor and didn't send in the manuscript. Think of the times you could have finished that short story and decided to watch American Idol instead. Think of the times you could have dropped the query in the mail or pressed 'Send' and the little voice in the back of your head said, "This sucks. They're just going to laugh at you."

No one said writing was easy (and if they did, they probably aren't writers). What's even harder is taking a flashlight to the deep, dark crevices of your psyche and figuring out what's holding you back.

I'll be perfectly blunt. My problem is fear of success. I had a mother who constantly told me I couldn't outshine other people or they wouldn't like me. I had a guidance counselor who said the problem with me was that I was too smart for my own good after I scored a near perfect score on a state aptitude test. In the farming community where I grew up, I was mocked by my peers for simply wanting to learn something besides the best combination of pig breeds to produce the leanest pork. Getting the old recordings out of my brain is even harder than the writing.

What about the rest of you? Anyone care to admit their greatest fear when it comes to writing?

Stalling Activities

Every writer has her stalling activities for avoiding a task she doesn't want to deal with. I've found a new one--sending out queries.

*shakes head*

This is a new one for me. As I said in my last post, I'd planned on starting the edits to AV&T this week. I literally have not looked at the ms since I finished the first draft. I'm a little afraid to. I was tickled with the first version, coming with what I thought were clever little bits. Now I fear my cleverness is, well, pretty fucking lame. I don't really know though because I'M SCARED TO OPEN THE FREAKING FILE.

So what did I do? I sent out the next set of queries for ZL.

*shakes head again*

Normally, I have the opposite problem. Jump into the edits to avoid the queries.

So what am I going to now? Um, I think I hear some chocolate calling my name. . .