If You Love an Author

Look. I’m going to be really frank here, because I think we’ve been friends long enough that I can do that. And if we haven’t, I hope you’ll bear with me for a minute, because this is really important.

If there is an author in your life, and that person happens to be important to you on ANY level, but especially in a familial or close relationship, there are some things you should know.

I’ve avoided this subject for a while, for various reasons, one of them being an inherent belief that I have no business telling someone how to love anyone else. But in a recent moment of clarity, I realized that that is not what I’m about to do. What I’m telling you isn’t how you should love them, but rather, the most important way you ought to be showing that love. Because authors are emotional, sensitive people who pour those emotions and those sensitivities into our work for the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD to read.

What we write is so much more than just words on a page, or a screen, or in a book. These stories often come from the very depth of our souls, distributing pieces of ourselves to everyone who reads them. Luckily, for every slice of ourselves we give away, we grow new, grander ones to share.

Since we are writing to share our deepest, most intimate souls, the hope is we will be joined in this special place by our closest, most beloved people in the world. Our spouses. Our children. Our parents, siblings, extended families, and closest friends.  

Because our stories mean so very much to us, it’s difficult to understand why our loved ones wouldn’t be absolutely dying to read our newest (or oldest) work. But all too often, our loved ones aren’t even interested. And that lack of interest, of support—to us—translates to a lack of personal value.

If you love an author—for whatever reason and in whatever capacity—read their work. I don’t care if you buy it, tweet it, Facebook it, share it, talk about it, or even review it (all of which you should ALSO be doing, but that’s another blog). READ IT. Do not offer explanations or excuses about why you “can’t” or tell them you’ll get to it when you have more time (next year, perhaps?). You might as well be telling them you “can’t” find the time to love them. (And let’s not talk about how short life really is here.)

FACT: Time it takes the average author to write a book = 6 months to one YEAR  .

FACT: Time it takes the average reader to read that same book = 4-6 HOURS (7 if it’s long or you’re a slow reader).

FACT: The average American wastes approximately that much time every week (if not every day) watching TV and/or surfing the internet.

If you love an author, value the time they have spent dedicating themselves to their stories. Read his or her work. Do not make excuses. We are smart people. And you are missing out on the best parts of us.

And that, my dear friends, would be the saddest story of all. 

The Benefits of Practice

Well, actually, it’s pretty much everything. I mean, practice keeps us on our toes, right? But since this will be our third move in two years, and since two of those moves have been major, cross-country moves, I’m starting to feel like an expert this time around.

I’m getting good at packing. Not that I wasn’t good before—I’ve moved so many times in my life, that I’ve lost track of how many homes I’ve lived in. And that’s okay. But when it comes to boxing things up—yeah. I’m getting there.

I’m also getting good at throwing things away. I know it sounds funny, but this is not a strength I’ve always had. I’m something of a packrat—or I used to be. I kept everything, even broken Rubbermaid containers, because I didn’t want to have to buy new ones. But broken containers do me no good when we’re moving, and so away they go. Along with the bench I’ve kept in the garage for the last year, planning to paint it. I love it, but it’s damaged, and heavy, and will cost more to transport than it’s worth, and so…it too goes.

Since we’re selling our house in Texas, I’m getting good at quick cleaning. Not because my house is always spotless, but because we’ve learned tricks on where to hide our dirty clothes and how to load the dishwasher in record time.

Another thing I’m learning through practice is how to juggle everything else in life and still get my packing done. For instance, this weekend, my husband and I took a day off to visit a beach we’ve been wanting to get to, but that is just far enough away that we’d put it off. We were gone all day, so we didn’t get any packing done, but we didn’t feel guilty, because we have a Texas bucket list which is also important.

Even though all of the above mentioned things seem to be all about moving, I think the practice idea is true for EVERYTHING. Writing. Reading. Playing an instrument. Sports. Whatever. The more you do a thing, the better at it you become.

And now I need to figure out how to actually plant new roots and stay put, because people, I do not want any more practice with moving.

What about you? What are you currently practicing? 

Forcing Myself to Learn

So, you know how my publisher went out of business last fall? At the time, I knew very little about self-publishing. But thanks to the good people at Rhemalda, I knew a LOT more about publishing than I had before I signed with them. They were very good to keep me involved in the process, patiently explaining all the hows and whys of everything they did, and because of that, I learned. And I took that knowledge with me.

Now I’m getting ready to release Birthright, the sequel to Descendant, and I’m really missing my Rhemalda family. Besides the support and friendship, I am realizing all over again how much I have left to learn. Some days it’s overwhelming. But I still know the things they taught me, and I’m adding to that arsenal of experience every day. I have some amazing, wonderful, talented friends who are patient and kind, and who have all contributed in one way or another to my success as an author. Without them, I couldn’t do this. Not the way I need to.

Even so, there’s a lot that I still don’t know. I can’t continue to ask others to help me with certain things, or have them do it for me. I have to figure out how to be a grown up author. And it’s both scary and exhilarating at the same time. There’s a certain feeling of accomplishment with each mountain of frustration I conquer and each new thing learned.  

I’m not going to lie. Publishing a book is hard. That’s why publishing houses hire entire teams of people. But I’m getting there. I’m forcing myself to learn it. Because I have no idea what’s in my future, and knowing these things can only help me grow.

Suddenly, I remember what it’s like to be in high school again, and I have a renewed sympathy for my young adult children who are having to do this kind of learning in every aspect of life. It’s hard. It’s scary. It’s exhilarating.

What about you? What scary things have you learned lately?

One of the many things I've learned this month.

The Thing About Dreams (and Some GREAT Deals on books)

I’ve been thinking about dreams this week, and what people will often do to achieve them. How far we travel, how hard we work, the sacrifices we willingly make, all for dreams that may—or may not—turn out the way we hope.

That’s the thing about dreams. They generally don’t work out the way we plan them in our heads.

If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you probably already know I’m a dreamer. My dreams tend to be grandiose and maybe even unrealistic on some levels, and yet on other levels, I openly acknowledge that sometimes it’s the ability to dream, the hope it inspires, and the journey I’m traveling that makes me truly happy. And I’m really very okay with that.

I want to be a bestselling author who makes millions of dollars. There. I said it. Seriously, I don’t know a single author who would turn that down. But that’s not why I write. In fact, it’s not why MOST of us write. Some friends of mine have posted beautiful thoughts about dreams and how they change over time. How some dreams might have to be retired to make room for new ones, and how one friend realized she writes to share a bit of her soul with others.

I don’t write to make money, and that’s a good thing. If that was why, I would have been forced to quit years ago. I don’t write to please others, teach a lesson, push an agenda. I write to tell a story. I write because the very act of creating soothes me, makes me whole. I write because it’s part of who I am.

I will always dream. I will always hope that someday I’ll write that book that takes off. Someday, I’ll make enough money to buy my vacation island in a tropical somewhere. Or a yacht. Or, you know, pay off my house and send my kids to college.   

But if that never happens, it’s okay. I may have to make room for other dreams that can be more lucrative, but I don’t think I’ll ever truly be able to stop writing. And so the dream lives on.

What about you? Why do you dream?

PS. This week, you can get a boxed set of seven romantic suspense books for .99 here. This is a SERIOUSLY great deal. Don’t miss out! Also, if you haven’t grabbed your copy of Elana Johnson’s latest release, Elevated, it’s not too late. And if you haven’t snagged your copy of DESCENDANT yet, better hurry! BIRTHRIGHT comes out in a little over a month. 

Lost and Found: Focus. Mine.

Lately I’ve struggled to find my focus as an author. Oh, I’ve been somewhat productive, but every accomplishment has been hard won in so many ways. Every word I’ve written has felt forced, every edited page as though it’s taken days.

There was a time when I loved writing. In so many ways it was like breathing to me. Everything that happened in life, for good or bad, was material for more writing, and motivation to finish yet another manuscript. And then I moved. And life took over. And writing fell down the priority list out of necessity.

The problem is those necessities have since calmed—we’ve really found our feet in our new place—and my inability to write should have ceased by now. The new problem is that I’ve fallen out of my good writing habits, and into bad ones wherein I am easily distracted by the internet, books by other people, church responsibilities, decorating, and…well, just about anything that can possibly be a distraction. Except cleaning. (That’s a downside too.)

And I’ve decided it’s time. Time to reorganize my thoughts. Time to reset my habits. Time to take control of my writing again. Time to be more productive.

After reading this post (thanks Elana!) I am reminded that taking control is really not as hard as I’ve convinced myself over the last year and a half. It’s simple. And it’s up to me.

So yeah. I’m off to start work on a new manuscript while I wait for edit notes on Birthright. I have a good idea, and I think I can actually turn that idea into a story. It’s all about focus, and I think it’s about time I found mine.

Have you ever lost focus on your goals for a long period of time? How did you find it again?

Half-way Failed

So remember how at the beginning of the month I was all excited and had big plans for NaNoWriMo? And remember how I was all gung-ho about drafting book 3 in the DESCENDANT series this month?

Well. In case you’re wondering how it’s going, it’s not.

Let me explain: Kids with the flu, husband out of town, other stressful drama, late nights, early mornings, and a complete lack of inspiration=no words.

Well, I mean, I have like 3100 and change, but…it’s the 12^th. I should realistically have 24,000+.

I’ve never started NaNoWriMo and not finished. Never not written the expected 50,000 words. And guess what? I don’t plan to give up now.

What? You don’t think I can do it? I’m really very behind, and this week, I will be leaving town for five days—five more days of no writing. I’ve half-way failed, and yet…I still have hope. I know I can do it. Don’t ask me why or how, but after having written an number of books already, and having won NaNoWriMo each time I’ve participated before, I’m fairly certain I can actually still do it.

This year it may come down to me writing furiously at 11:00 pm on November 30^th to finish at the very last second, but—I believe I have it in me.

I believe I’m up to the challenge.

What about you? What’s your most difficult challenge these days?

Let the Countdown Commence in Three, Two, One…

That’s right people. There are three days left in October. Halloween is only two days away, which means I will stock up on delicious, horribly non-nutritious snacks which I will desperately need for the month to follow.

No, I will not be trick-or-treating, and I don’t believe my children will either. Sadly, I fear we may be past that phase of life.

*sobs*

In lieu of the trick-or-treat stash, I shall be making the trek to Sam’s Club (because there is no Costco closer than three hours) to buy a giant bag of sugar-filled junk, and then I will dress up and sit on my porch to hand out half of it. The other half will be greedily and desperately stashed. I’m seriously going to need it. (Just like I needed all those adverbs!)

That’s right. The month following Halloween? November. Otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month. (At least, in America. I don’t know about my foreign friends, but hey—I think this could be a global thing. Anyone can participate!)

I have a few ideas, and two or three or six books that need to be written. So yeah. I plan to draft one of them in November. Please bear with me if I neglect this blog (though it’s not currently in the plans) and definitely stop by on November 6^th to enter in a massive, super fun contest to celebrate the release of the second edition of DESCENDANT, which also includes BONUS material.

This means that a whole LOT Of writers and authors will be signing out of social networking and neglecting blogs, housework, family, and holiday decorating in order to write entire novels in thirty days or less. Me included.

If you’re participating, friend me on the NaNoWriMo site. If not, enjoy your relaxing, craze-free November. It’s good to know the rest of the world still functions while we create worlds and then blow them asunder.

Let the countdown commence…

Totally Random Thoughts (October 2013 Edition)

Fear happens when we have something to lose. So how brave would we be if we believed—even for just one day—that we would win?

Trust is a gift of faith that is, more often than not, destroyed by imagination and insecurity, rather than reality.

A hero is someone who you know will always show up for you, even when they can’t necessarily save you or your world.

The most popular TV shows, movies, and books elicit strong emotions from people watching/reading. It is those strong emotions, along with strong questions, that keep us those characters in our heads, feeding our need to continue returning to watch the next episode, sequel, or volume. Or, barring that, it feeds our desire to continue watching or reading things by those same creators.

Sometimes a walk on the beach or a drive to nowhere is the best way to see the best parts of the world.

Any thoughts you’d like to add?

Summer of Cray-Cray

Oh my gosh. Today, I looked at a calendar, and realized it’s September already. Not just barely September, either. The month is almost halfway over already. I keep looking again, staring at the calendar, wondering how in the heck this happened. How is summer already over?

*shakes head*

Mind boggled. Anyway, this summer has been every bit as eventful as last summer. And that’s saying something big—because last summer was CRAY-CRAY. So yeah. Here’s a short recap.

DESCENDANT was released.

I spent time in Utah conferencing and promoting and visiting. 

We moved. Again. (Still in Texas, different house.)

Did some promoting in Texas.

Due to my first agent’s phenomenal success as an author, I signed with a new agent—who I also love.

Celebrated holidays with the fam.

Spent more time in Utah, this time mostly visiting family and friends.

Got reacquainted with my boat, which still lives in Utah for now.

Also visited Jackson Hole (and Yellowstone) with my besties. Hey, it’s research!

 Attended WorldCON in San Antonio (which, by the way was PHENOMENAL for networking, and rocked a 15 on a scale of 1-10).

Finished drafting book 2 in the DESCENDANT series. Yaaayy!

My publisher announced they are closing. (BOOOOO!)

(Also, still no definite decisions made yet—but no worries, you’ll all be the first to know as soon as I do.)

And now school has started, and people are gearing up for fall. And I? I don’t know what I’m doing for sure, but I do know one thing. It’s time to write another book. (And hey, maybe someday I'll get one of these all my own!)

So yeah. That’s my plan. What about you? What’s your goal now that summer is over?  

Where I Was Standing

Word is spreading about my publisher’s recent announcement that they are closing. I have only had days to process, and because there are a lot of details and options to sift through, I can’t tell you with any certainty what will happen next with my newly released baby, DESCENDANT. (But don’t worry—I won’t let it just disappear!)

I’ve remained relatively quiet about this news because frankly, I’m a bit in shock. Less than a week previous to receiving this notification, my publisher and I discussed details about me turning in the sequel to DESCENDANT, which is about finished. Also, the way I found out was… less than ideal.

You see, I was at WorldCON, a science fiction and fantasy convention which happened to be held in San Antonio this year. It was midnight, and I was attending a social gathering, surrounded by other authors, fans, readers, and generally AWESOME people. At some point, amongst our giggling and chatting, I pulled out my phone to friend one of my new acquaintances on Facebook and my eye landed on a notice in the private Rhemalda Authors Facebook group. I won’t go into details, but I will just say the notice was lengthy, detailed, and devastating. And yes, I saw it first on Facebook.

Standing in a dark room, surrounded by excessively happy people, the floor fell out from under me. And for a few very long seconds, I couldn’t breathe.

I don’t remember exactly what happened next, but I handed my phone to a friend, who whispered something to my brother and cousin (who both awesomely accompanied me to the Convention—along with my awesome friend), and then all these arms enveloped me in a giant group hug while I cried.

When the fog lifted and the arms were removed, a swarm of supportive people joined in. Not just my family, but so many other supportive people, some of whom hardly knew me at all, but who were genuinely concerned for my welfare and happiness. Everyone in that place hugged me at some point, even though few of them knew why.

I received support from a woman who works for a company specializing in publicity, from a number of successful authors, from a Hugo winning artist, and also an editor. I was serenaded with a Monty Python sketch, and saluted, and cheered on, and held up until the tears turned to laughter, and my feet somehow found the floor again.

That night, a friend reminded me that there are no mistakes, only happy accidents. And by the time he said it, I knew that no matter what road I choose from here, I am going to be okay. My career is still moving forward, and I can still look forward to celebrating enormous success.   

The world righted itself because I realized that no matter what happens, I will never have to stand alone.

In the days that followed, I received more proof in the form of messages, phone calls, texts, and emails and so much verbal support I almost can't keep up with it. 

There will be news in the future, and soon I will go through the painful process of making decisions and figuring out details. But for now, I am more than okay. I am amazing and wonderful and zen. I’m happy with all my future possibilities. And I attribute that in large part to where I was standing when I got the news, and where I continue to stand daily. Completely surrounded by love.

Why Are You In It?

Every once in a while, the publishing world breaks out in highly publicized debates about big publishing versus small publishing versus self-publishing. It’s not a new argument. Not a new debate. And most people in the industry have super strong opinions one way or another about whatever roads they deem worthy or unworthy or right or whatever.

And I get it. We’re all entitled to our feelings and our opinions and our ways of thought. I have some of my own even. The thing is that we are all here to survive a different journey, and we are so much better off for the many available choices of roads. I could share my opinions and experiences and whatever whatever, but the thing is, it doesn’t matter. Because even though I’m writing with building a career in mind, that career isn’t necessarily the reason I create.

I write because I love it. It frees me. It makes me think deeply and notice the small things and observe people and situations and places. And also, it clears my head of all the voices. And those voices are the thing that make me believe that I was absolutely put on this earth to create, so it’s like a vicious cycle that boils down to this: I write to stay sane.

So there. I said it. Doesn’t matter which path I choose or how I find my success. The point is that I’m sane, and that’s what matters. And I’m proud of the quality of work I’m learning to produce. I’m successful in so many little ways, and I plan /expect/ am working toward more success in the future. So I’m going to take the advice of Caitlin at All the Write Notes and make my excited face as often as I can, and I’m going to remember how many successful roads have been traveled by Jennifer Armentrout, and be grateful for my publisher and my agent, and all the other people working hard to help me make good things happen, and I’m going to stand up and dance. Because people, I’m in it for the insane-sanity of the thing.  

And really, I don’t know of anyone who can argue with that. So tell me, why are you in it?

Fight Like a Turtle

This past weekend my family dragged ourselves out of bed a little more than an hour before dawn (yes, you read that right—BEFORE) and drove to a nearby national park. Rangers were scheduled to release a clutch of recently hatched baby turtles into the sea, and since we’ve missed several other releases, we were determined to make this one—as it is very possibly the last of the year.

Seeing those little guys crawl toward the water was worth getting up for.

 

I’m not going to get into the details of how these particular turtles are an endangered species and how every sighting/nest is supposed to be reported and yadda yadda. Let’s just say that the rangers incubate the eggs (the mothers abandon them) and then, when they hatch, release them in a safe environment to give them the best chance for survival.

So the ranger takes these tiny little turtles, which are smaller than my palm (a kid-sized palm, FYI) and sets them on the sand. Then each little turtle has to crawl a distance of what must seem like miles to them, in order to reach the water that will be their home. They struggle. And they crawl. And crawl and struggle, until finally, a good and powerful wave sweeps up and picks them up off the sand…

Pushing them backward.

So, they craw and struggle some more until the next wave picks them up. Every once in a while, one manages to stay afloat long enough so that the wave carries it out to sea, but most of them end up fighting a battle that basically pushes them back as often as it carries them forward.

Still they fight, and they crawl, and they move on their own with zero help from the hundred or so people watching. And wouldn’t you know it, eventually, every single one of them manages to not only reach the water, but to remain in it.

Because be it instinct or encouragement from peers, those little guys never once thought to give up. They just kept crawling until they found their own wave that would carry them out to where they needed to be.

As I witnessed this miracle of life, the sun came up over the water and turned the water to gold and the sand to burnished copper, leaving me with one parting thought.

Humans can learn a lot from turtles. 

Evolving Readerly Taste

In my last post, I talked about how my decorating style has changed, and how even though my tastes have evolved, I am still very much the same person. And the whole decorating topic has made me think about the evolution of my tastes as a reader, and as a writer as well.

As a kid, I loved the mystery of Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. But fundamentally more important to me were the hints of romance I found in those stories. I think I would never have loved Nancy so much if it hadn’t been for her relationship with Ned. As I grew, I found random other books at the library and read them. I was not a horribly picky reader, but the one consistent, most memorable thread throughout is romance.

After a number of years spent reading to my children, but not for my own pleasure (weird, I know) I came across an audio book at someone’s home, and listened while I nursed my babies/cleaned my house/bottled jam/accomplished other important things. It was a family drama type story but it involved and included romance. So naturally, I finished the entire series, and then another one. This led to many trips to the library, which led to me deciding to try writing myself.

Several years later, I read a little of everything, depending on my mood, and write YA almost exclusively (for now). But in all my choices of reading and writing, that single consistent thread remains. It boils down to who I am at the core, and what matters to my most subconscious self.

I have evolved over the years as both a reader and a writer, but when I really think about it, my basic tastes and preferences remain very much the same. I like romance. And kissing. And anything that involves feelings. All other criteria will likely change and move and shift, but that one important thread will always remain the same.

So what about you? What one thread stays consistent in your reading choices?

A Wider View

Ever since we moved into this new house, I’ve been on a little bit of a decorating kick. Part of it might be a driving need to make this place feel like home, even though we are far away from everything we know and everyone we love. But I think another part is very much a cycle of style.

I feel myself (and my family) moving away from colors that are easy and “trendy” and moving into ones that are bright and bold. Maybe it’s because we just did a brave, bold thing, and it’s a bit of a hangover from living this new life. I’m not sure. But I find myself gravitating toward color and patterns and other new ideas that I might not have ever considered in the house where everything was normal and comfortable and…the same as it had been since we built that home.

Then the other day, my kids and I cleaned out the garage and finished unpacking a number of our remaining boxes (the ones not in storage) and as we did we found bits and pieces of our past. Things we’ve collected on vacations or that we’ve just simply loved. And we got them out because in our life of uncertainty, we have a strong need to have little reminders of the familiar and the happy things from before.

And in doing so, I realized something. Yes, we’re thinking bold and bright, changing up colors and ideas, but as I lined the tops of our kitchen cabinets with bottles of sand and sea shells we have collected from all over the world, I realized that color aside, the core of our style, the core of our family, is very much the same.

Turns out, my fairy collection goes well with our new beach-esque color scheme, and our art pieces still move us to smiles. So while our style has evolved and cycled in a big way, we are still who we were before. Just maybe more open, more conscious, and with a bigger, wider view of things.

And I think maybe that is exactly the point.

But, um, I’m still looking for a desk for my office, so if you have a great tip on where I should look, I’d love to know.

It's Moving Week and Brave by Sara Bareilles

That's right, it's here. My second moving week this year. And once again, I'm going to take the week off from blogging because of a combination of me being crazy busy and not having a solid internet connection/finding my computer/hooking up stuff and whatever whatever.

So instead, please enjoy this fabulous new music video, Brave by Sara Bareilles. I love this song, and I think we should all do exactly this. Let's all be brave and let the words fall out!

I'll be back next week. Hopefully. Happy end of May!

 

If You’re Going to Do Something, Do it Right

We’re moving this week. I know, I know, we just did this, right? But that's life. I was hoping to be moved in by now, or at least mostly moved in. But the renovations weren’t quite done in time to make our first, or second closing date, so we pushed forward with a third, and have still had to hang out while the last details were finished (minus cleaning, which will probably fall to us now).

*crosses fingers everything is really finished for real*

The problem we continue to run into is that some of the subcontractors have dragged their feet on making deadlines, and then been lazy about the finish work. And, these poor guys because they now have to deal with an annoyed and irritated me, who is very intolerant of lazy/messy finish work.

It’s not that I’m mean or unable to be pleased. It’s just that I have this very firm belief that if you’re going to do something, and if that thing is going to have a deadline, you should do it right and within the time allotted. And if you are not going to finish in time, communicate about why and STILL do it right from start to finish.

Writers, artists, professionals of every variety and choice—we all have projects. Our projects have deadlines, and specifications, and each of us has someone who will hold us accountable (or we should, anyway) for finishing our projects, and finishing them the right way.

I expect this of myself, though I don’t generally get paid for my work immediately after turning it in (or finishing or whatever),  so it’s difficult for me to expect less of people who are immediately getting paid. Because really, I believe we should always, always, always strive to do our BEST WORK, in everything, regardless of circumstances.

So tell me. When is the last time you pushed a deadline, and what did it take to make sure you turned in your best possible work?

Worth the Work

I’m not going to lie. The next month is going to be crazy busy for me. Yes, the fact that my book is officially “released” into the world is part of it. I’m currently in Utah to celebrate that, and also to attend and present at my all-time favorite writing conference. Those things, along with a little visiting and socializing, will take up the first half of my May. And THEN…

Moving. Again.

Yes, yes. We did just move. Uh huh. It has only been six months. Here it is: from crappy rental house—into nice home-we-will-own.

It’s a lot of work, and a lot of stress. And a lot of brainpower. But in the end, we believe all the work and stress will be worth it. Kind of like it’s worth all the work and stress it has taken for me to see this book through the publication process. And worth what it's going to take to find time to write the next one.

I believe that all the best things require sacrifice and hard work.

So what about you? What hard thing do you believe is worth working for this spring/summer?

Something Everyone Can Be

The final address at the Teen BookCon was given by author Sharon Draper. This was the speech I most needed to hear that day. I’ve never met Sharon, nor heard her speak, and the awesome thing is that she was speaking to teenagers, about teenagers—teens who write, and teens who don’t. And I just happened to be pretending to be a teen, so it worked out.

Author problem #347: I have zero experience in talking to teens.  (This is one of the reasons I crashed Teen Book Con.)

Besides being an author, Sharon has taught school for 30 years, and her vocal skills show that experience. She was engaging and funny. She read out loud several pages from her books—segments that absolutely hooked the audience. But more importantly, she was profound.

She said something like (I’m totally paraphrasing): Some people are born with a natural talent for writing. Others work very, very hard to learn how to write because they love it and it’s what they want to do. But not everyone is meant to be a writer, and that’s okay. Everyone has something they are either good at, or something they love enough to work hard on, and that is a good place to focus. Not everyone needs to be a writer.

But everyone, EVERYONE can be a reader. Besides novels, there is nonfiction, and magazines and short stories and biographies, and a million other types of books to choose from. Those people who don’t think they’re readers just simply haven’t found the right books or the right materials.

Shannon’s words made me think of my fifteen-year-old daughter. For years, she has insisted that she is not a reader. That she doesn’t like reading at all. But, um, right before The Hunger Games movie came out, she read through the entire series in ONE WEEK. (Not a reader? WHATEVER!) Yeah. I agree with Sharon. Everyone can be a reader.   

Isn’t everyone in the world just looking for a good story? What do you think?

When You Think You Stand Alone

Remember when you were in high school and there was that one group of popular kids? Remember wanting so badly to just be accepted, or to fit in, but feeling like every time you tried, you fell flat on your face?

That feeling of standing alone in a crowded room, screaming, while the world ignores you—it happens to adults, too. I was reminded of this last week when talking to a friend who’d experienced a similar thing in a working-environment. The difference, I think, is that as teenagers, we don’t have the same understanding of the world as the adult versions of ourselves. This makes it both better, and worse.

Better, because usually our adult selves have other people in our lives. People who love us and who depend on us and who are there to make sure our world continues turning. We have that knowledge somewhere in our mind (however deep it’s buried) that we are all people. And people are complex, with insecurities and self-confidence issues, and fear of the unknown.

But it’s worse as an adult because no one—no matter our age—wants to be thrown into a time-warp and sent back to high school. No one.

Here’s the thing. That clique? The so-called “cool kids club”? It’s not really all it’s cracked up to be. It’s fueled by drama, angst, pain, fear—and very, very rarely by joy. Because the people who feel true joy are the people who don’t feel the need to gather their friends into a group and hold tight to the boundaries. People who feel joy are the people who want to share that joy with everyone. People who have true self confidence don’t feel the need to cut others down or stomp on their opinions or words or work or thoughts. People who feel true joy are the people who are a joy to be around.

And those people attract others who know how to find joy. That particular group grows so fast that it ceases to be a group, and tends to be a whole lot of individuals just being friends. Those friends, being individuals, never have to stand alone because they stand for something much, much bigger. An equality of living and a sharing of life, love, happiness, and friendship.

Those individuals will always attract others, and because of that, there is no high-school-themed-clique-style-drama required.

My point is, just be yourself. The best self you can be. And you will never have to stand alone. Unless there are zombies coming. Then you better learn to run fast. 

You Are Adequate. No, Really, You Are!

I’ve been stuck lately. Seriously handicapped in my ability to create, because in a creative field like writing, everything I do, everything I produce, comes from inside of me. My head, my heart, my innermost-hidden soul. And, um, turns out, it’s hard to dig into my hidden soul when I’m trying so hard to just function in this entirely new environment.

It’s a problem.

I’ve tried a lot of tricks that have worked for me in the past. Working out. Going for a drive. Shopping. Long bubble baths. Walking on the beach (which is new, and usually the most inspiring thing I can think to do). Yeah. Not so much.

And then…

In cleaning off a shelf, I came across my to-be-read pile, the one that has grown enormously since I moved, due to the fact that I also haven’t done any reading. And I thought, “hey, can’t hurt.” I picked one by an author who has always inspired me to be a better writer, and I read a page. Then a chapter.

And I remembered all the reasons I am inadequate, all the reasons why I will never write something so amazing as what this author writes, and all the reasons why I should probably bury my head in the sand (now that I live by a beach) and quit.

Then I opened my computer and got back to work.

Because I also remembered that the reasons I will never write the way that author writes is because I am ME. And I can write something incredibly amazing and wonderful, but absolutely different from her. I have the ability to do great things and to be awesome, all by myself. And I am the only one who can figure out how to overcome my issues and be better, be artistic and profound and better than remarkable.

I can be adequate.

It’s my choice.

And yours. Choose to be adequate. And get back to work.