Writing, Publishing, and Facing Fear

Writing

I've been writing for a good portion of my life. I say that I started writing when I was eleven, but it really was before that. I started writing when I was probably six. I got down my World Book Encyclopedia, read up on dinosaurs, and wrote a short (not sure how long, actually) essay on dinosaurs based on what I'd read. I did it to show off to the adults in my life, who thought it was pretty cool. Seems like I tried to illustrate it as well, but don't really remember. 

Words, writing, stories...they've all been a part of my life for always. 

When I was eleven, I began to think seriously that writing was the thing I should do as, perhaps, a career. I also had teachers who encouraged me. I wrote my first sci-fi story when I was twelve, mostly because I got the idea that I could do it as well as anybody, and wanted to see if I was right. Apparently, I was because I got two stories published in the school magazine. A lot of my early stuff was me mimicking those who I admired. I attempted the cool logic of Asimov (that was rough...he knew more than...well, any of us). I worked on imagery based on Bradbury (it's his fault that my story telling is sometimes flowing) and dabbled in epic tones I'd picked up from Burroughs. 

I began to write every day, and even wrote a mystery novella when I was thirteen (it was lost. If I become famous, perhaps one day someone will find a spiral bound notebook with a photo of an owl on the cover in their attic. Hopefully, they will take it to Antiques Roadshow and the experts will recognize it as my lost novella. It'll be worth more because it's handwritten. Good luck!). 

Then I worked on the high school literary magazine for three years. It was awesome, and I published several stories. I look back on them now and sort of cringe a bit, but there you go. A girl's gotta start somewhere. 

The writing continued until I got married. I lost my voice. My muse left in disgust. My bravado was replaced by uncertainty in my craft and my skill as a writer. I could blame my ex-husband, who shot me down a lot, but ultimately, I blame myself for allowing him to shoot me down. I was young, and doubted myself just enough to hold on to his lack of support. I wasted ten years because I became afraid. 

Fear is a killer. 

After my divorce, I went back to school. School is a great place to find your courage. I was surrounded by people who were writers like I was. My professors were awesome. I published two stories while in undergrad, and wrote two plays between undergrad and my Master's program. The hard part was maintaining any sort of writing routine. I was raising two small children, teaching grammar (full-time by the time I was working on my Master's), going to school, and trying to find time (ha) for a personal life. I had periods where I wrote consistently, and other periods when I just had nothing. I marvel at people like J.K. Rowling. She has a discipline that I do not, and it shows. She has a world-famous series of books, and I have---a career at a local technical college and lots of bills. 

Lack of discipline is also a killer. 

Since grad school, I've continued this sporadic writing thing I do. I start a blog. Then I lose interest. I write a little on the side, and then stop. I get so frustrated with myself. 

Currently, I'm working (slowly) on a book with my friend and co-writer, Melissa. I'm so happy she is a patient woman who also struggles with the things I struggle with. This may mean that our project will be years in the making. At this point, that's ok. It doesn't matter as long as our product is readable, publishable, and, most of all, gets us a table at Dragon*Con (John Barrowman better watch out!). This project has really made me contemplate my lack of discipline and work to figure out how to get past it. 

I also took a challenge this week from someone I've befriended on Twitter. I follow a lot of writers who are either self-published (which isn't always as bad a thing as I once believed) or are published in magazines. He said something about the undead and I responded by saying, "The undead have no dignity." This lead to a discussion about how awesome a title that was, and then he threatened to steal the title if I didn't use it within a week. I took that as a challenge, and we agreed to both write stories from that title. This was Wednesday night. He cranked out a 1200 word story in less than two hours---and (as I discovered the next morning) he was drunk. The crazy part is that it's a really good story! I took a bit longer and wrote sober (promise). Yesterday, I finished a 1928 word story. It took me hours of thinking and feeling my way through this microcosm world I'd discovered. I was thrilled, but realized that I was basically an out-of-shape writer. Still, I did it, and, so far, my trusted readers are giving positive feedback. 

Publishing

The last time I was published was back in 2010, and, sadly, I was not paid. That's the toughest thing, especially when you are still figuring how to get published. Lots of places will publish you if you are willing to accept no pay. It's easy to talk yourself into believing that getting published in this no-pay situation will get you out there so that other, paying publishers will notice you. That's kind of like the message a lot of those movies from the studio era of Hollywood tried to present. Go to Hollywood, get a job at a restaurant where, supposedly, producers and directors eat a lot, and you will get noticed if you have talent (my question is how these folks can see your talent when you're simply delivering food, but I digress). Word to new writers--paying publishers will not see you on a non-paying magazine's site. They will see you if you submit your stories to their paying magazine. In a way, my publishing with no pay is a way I held on to my fear. 

Loosing your babies on the world is scary because there are going to be people who really don't like your babies. 

Soon, life took over again, and I stopped writing or trying to be published. I was scared and it was a lot of work I wasn't disciplined enough to keep at. Publishing was a "one day" sort of thing, not a right now thing. 

Facing the Fear

My drunk friend had no idea that I was in that mode. He just challenged me to write. And I did. I kept thinking of something Neil Gaiman said--"One word in front of the other," every time I bogged down and wanted to stop. I wrote during classes when I wasn't dealing with students. I wrote in my office between classes. When I didn't write, I was thinking. Gina gave me suggestions as I bounced ideas off her. I sent my story to several people who are slowly commenting (Thank you. Love you.), and I sent it to my now-sober-drunk friend. He read it, and almost immediately suggested that I send it off to a magazine. 

I was floored. 

I know I'm a good writer. If I were not such a good writer, I wouldn't have my millions of readers on this blog (right, guys?!). Still, it was an experimental story. I was just messing around, right?! 

He sent me a couple of suggestions for possible magazines that might pick it up---and they pay! So I went and looked at the magazines. The submission requirements were not difficult, and soooo...

A draft of my story has been sent to Apex Magazine! If this magazine rejects me, I'm on to another and another (after some rewriting, I'm sure). No more sitting back and saying, "One day." 

So, in thirty days or so, I should have an answer. For now, I'm going to move forward and try not to worry. I'm hoping for good news, but maybe I've already gotten good news, and that is that I need to not fear and just do this.