Category Archives: Writing

In Which She Muses About ‘Celebrity’

Despite the fact that I have worked in the book business for mumble-mumble years (good gods, has it been seventeen!?) and I know perfectly well that Editors and Authors Are Real People, I still have to work through the ‘yikes Famous Person’ veil that descends over my eyes when I meet one. I am, as previously mentioned, deathly shy, which makes self-promotion a challenge to say the least. It also means I have a permanent inferiority complex.

Brendan Cathbad Myers is someone whose work I’ve read since he published essays about druidry in Wiccan Candles, a now-defunct Canadian publication. (You can still read his articles, though, on his web site here.) His articles demonstrated to me that there was a deeply philosophical and ethical aspect to Paganism, above and beyond the basic foci (and petty arguments) that seemed to resurface again and again.

I tend to write and publish material that has a practical application focus to it. His work is on a completely different level academically and intellectually. (His work is stuff I wish I could write. And maybe did, once upon a time in university, before I was swayed by the need for not-101 books about alternative spirituality.) So when we finally came face to face on Saturday night in the resto-bar where we were waiting for a table, I was expecting someone different. Instead, he was excited to meet me.

(Funny story: I walked into the dark and crowded area with Blade and Silly Imp and waved at everyone, including someone who I knew was Brendan from his author photo. Brendan turned to another friend of mine and said, “Who did I just wave back to?” “That would be the famous and best-selling local author Autumn!” t! replied enthusiastically and on purpose because he knows how uncomfortable I am with having fuss made about me.)

We were both excited and a bit nervous. I admire his books immensely, and he appears to like mine. Which boggles my mind, because they’re so simple as compared with his own. Apples and walnuts, I suppose; you can’t really compare such different things. We were both thrilled to meet a fellow Canadian and pagan author, and we began to chatter away. He has such wonderful experiences to share, and a sense of wonder and appreciation pervades his conversation when he shares stories and thoughts.

We talked a lot about our experiences publishing, which isn’t a surprise. We shared our frustration about the very real needs of the intermediate to advanced readership within the alternative spirituality market that aren’t being met because publishers are more interested in putting out basic books that appeal to a broader cross-section of the market. I can’t argue with their reasoning; it makes sense on a piece of paper. There will always be more people in the beginner stages of study than those who choose to continue through. At the same time, however, one of the most common requests in esoteric bookshops is “Do you have something that’s more advanced than this?” He told me about his current publisher, about whom he has nothing but positive feedback to share, and I’ll certainly look into them as I develop ideas that the publisher I’ve worked won’t touch.

We talked about the festival experience, and the need for people who have more experience under their belts to hook up and share their own experiences and thoughts. It’s hard to find stimulation when you’re the one teaching all the time. And we talked a lot about responsibility and ethics and values and other cultural themes related to his most recent book, The Other Side of Virtue (which I glowingly review in the upcoming Summer 2008 issue of WynterGreene Magazine. The short version: Brilliant, insightful, valuable. Read it.).

At the end of the evening it was hard to leave someone I’d just met and with whom I’d made such a wonderful connection. And it was truly wondrous to meet someone whom I consider an established and respected authority only to discover that he was just as eager and nervous about meeting me. I am an idiot. There is a lesson here, if only I’ll absorb and remember it. On the way to the restaurant Silly Imp told me she’d met and worked with Thorn Coyle recently, and that she thought we two were a lot alike. This was another source of ‘yikes’, as Coyle is another huge name who I respect immensely. I suspect that I will never shake the feeling that I’m a kid masquerading as a confident and qualified adult.

Apart from Brendan fitting into the group remarkably well, it was really, really good to (a) be out after dark, and (b) be out with friends deliberately ignoring what time it was. I’m paying for it now but it was good at the time, and I’d do it again (just not any time soon). We all have such a hard time scheduling things that it was remarkable to have us in one place to begin with. The only downside to the evening was that HRH couldn’t share it with us. I know he and Brendan would have hit it off rather well.

I’m feeling even more excited about the Hamilton festival now that I’ve met Brendan.

Metaphor

Libba Bray, the author of the Gemma Doyle trilogy, is in the last stretch of her current project and has an amusing (and, alas, very recognizable) metaphor for the process to share in a blog post entitled ‘Writing a Novel, A Love Story’.

No, this is the part where I become convinced that I could advertise on Craig’s List for gangs of homeless gerbils to run across my keyboard in an agitated, looking-for-the-water-tube state, and they would do a better job. This is how it goes. Every. Single. Friggin’. Time.

In fact, writing a novel is very close to falling in love. How so? I’m glad you asked.

Replace “novel” with “book in general” and yes, there it is: a decent and humorous summary of the process.

*facepalm*

My life just keeps getting more and more interesting. Unfortunately it’s in the Chinese curse sort of way.

Yesterday my internet access went down, thanks to Microsoft sending out an XP patch that didn’t play nicely with ZoneAlarm, the firewall I and millions of other people use. I spent sixty-nine minutes and 28 seconds on the phone with an unintelligible person manning an outsourced help desk last night. We finally got things back up and running.

And then this morning, the laptop died. It’s dead. D-E-D.

For those of you keeping score, that leaves me with no computer. None. I am stealing time downstairs on HRH’s computer to tell the world that yes, I am actually alive, but I sure as heck can’t work down here. I may come down to check Gmail tonight, but apart from that, nothing. Looks like I’m writing longhand during this afternoon’s writing jam with Jan.

Mitigating today’s severe technological ARGH was the wonderful wedding ceremony I performed yesterday for Scarlet and Blade, with the assistance of HRH, Jess, and Winterwolf in the ritual. It was a wonderful day with perfect weather and a lovely potluck buffet afterwards. I like performing marriage ceremonies for friends; I’m allowed to play with them during the ritual.

Right. I can’t stay here any longer. It’s claustrophobic and very damp. If you need to get in touch with me, do it by phone.

ETA: It’s 11:14 and Blade has just finished closing up the ADZO tower HRH borrowed ages ago and has been hanging on to in order to transfer the last few files to the second ADZO tower he officially acquired. I have internet (and proper browsing via Firefox, thankyouverymuch, first thing I installed), a functional computer, and thanks to my external hard drive that I love with much love I’m fine backup-wise. I can even use my external monitor again! I have a whole desk in front of me instead of a laptop! Speaking thereof, we’ll try a reinstall XP on the laptop and kick it back into shape. I’ll lose a couple of pictures but that’s about all. Muah-hah. I’m still installing Thunderbird and setting up my email addresses even now. Did you miss me?

In Which She Remembers That She’s A Writer

Or, Hey, I Remember This!

Total word count, YA music novel: 1,204
(That would also be total new words today.)

I set my freelance profile to ‘vacation’ after uploading my latest MS evaluation, because I needed some brain space and some time to work on my own material. When I only have two or three days a week to work and at least two end up being devoted to freelance for someone else, my own stuff keeps getting pushed aside and I’ve been getting somewhat resentful. So today, after dealing with the printer and doing some final research and character name assignment this morning, I just finally made myself sit down and start writing.

Do you know long it’s been since I wrote? And I don’t mean editing my stuff or handling rewrites or whatever. I mean the creating kind of writing. And it’s been even longer since I did it with fiction.

I felt a bit awkward going in. The opening scene probably won’t make the cut in the end. But I learned a couple of new things about my protagonist, and some more background leading up to the current state of affairs. (I had no idea she’d recently won a concerto competition, for example, or carried a photo of her cat in her viola case. But apparently she has and does.)

I’m going to need an icon for posts related to this book.

A Look At The Non-Fiction Writing Process

Specifically the writing of a technical book, but it has lots and lots and lots in common with writing any kind of non-fic book.

What is it like to write a technical book?

It goes into detail regarding the author’s experience scheduling, outlining, editing, working with reviewers and co-authors, losing track of info that’s in there somewhere, the staggering amount of time that goes into it (no, don’t work out the per-hour breakdown of your flat fee, it will make you weep), and other associated issues.

Among them are these phrases, which resonated with me:

There’s a non-linear relationship between pages and work […]. Do you have a quiet place completely free from interruptions where you can work? Don’t be surprised if you lose 15 or 30 minutes of flow every time you’re interrupted. That seems like a lot, but if you’re keeping a lot of stuff in your mental workspace, and someone calls or pops in to ask if you can help them with something, you might find yourself becoming extremely irritable and impatient — I do anyway — and that feeling itself is as much of a productivity killer as the interruption.

Feedback

Once a week or so I get e-mail from a reader. That is, a reader of the book-type thing I write, not just the on-line stuff that falls out of my brain during the day. They’re generally positive things, thanking me for putting my books out there and communicating information that has struck a chord with the reader, enabling them to think about something in a different way and make positive changes in their lives. While I’ve had feedback about all of them, the green witch book and the spellcraft book have garnered the most feedback. All of them touch me, reminding me that launching a book into the aether actually does create ripples that can change things. An author doesn’t generally get to see the changes made in people’s lives, so the feedback is doubly precious. It encourages me on a professional level, and on a spiritual level.

Today I got a wonderfully written letter from a reader (waves at T. E.) that could have described me, had my life not taken a significant turn five years ago. She’s got the education and in-house writing and editing experience, and is thinking about making the switch to the freelance writer’s life. (How many of you are laughing right now?) She is being very intelligent, asking someone who does it for a living what it’s like.

Something Tal and I trade back and forth when we’re frustrated is a comment about the life we’ve chosen. We have lots of them to draw from: feast or famine, less stressful environment for a more stressful schedule, and so forth. But in the end, we always cap it with, “But I’d rather be doing this than anything else.” Sure, I’d like a steady and reliable paycheque every two weeks. But I’m not willing to sign away the flexibility and freedom I have to obtain one. Yes, it’s incredibly stressful not being able to count on the arrival of a cheque at a certain time in order to budget properly. Going out and trying to drum up business is stressful too, especially for someone as shy as I am. I know freelancers who have a day job to make certain there’s money coming in (like Tal, for example) and I know freelancers who have so many clients knocking at their door that they have to turn them away (like Amanda). A lot of it depends on your area of specialization. And I certainly couldn’t be doing this on my own; having a significant other who brings money into the house is of immense value. (Although there have been more years than not where we’ve both been freelancing, which is also stressful, and not really ideal.) Having a significant other who is now working at a job with Benefits! is also a huge relief. On the other hand, having to do business for other people to keep money coming in is frustrating when you’re trying to write/finish writing books to shop around; a lot of my work is work that can’t be/won’t be paid off for a couple of years yet. It’s hard to accept that one is doing work that will be (probably) recompensed at an undetermined point in the future. Not that I’d know; I haven’t worked for myself (i.e. writing my own unassigned stuff) in, well, I can’t remember how long.

So yes, it’s hard. But it’s also preferable to the kind of stress I experience working full-time somewhere else. I like the variety of things I work on. I enjoy being in control of my environment. I like having a cat on my lap as I work. I like being able to ignore the telephone or screen my calls. I like being able to break when I need to without people watching my empty desk chair and timing me. I like dealing with people almost exclusively via e-mail. There’s the self-motivation problem, but I do have a pattern that I am now aware of thanks to chronicling my exploits here in the Owlyblog, and the motivation thing actually isn’t as much of a problem as I think it is when I’m in the middle of it.

Full moon Wednesday night, summer solstice this afternoon, Mercury direct again. If this were a fairy tale, all my cheques would arrive in my mailbox at once today. As it is, I’ve had messages this morning from two of my clients telling me my invoices have been processed, and in sixish weeks I’ll have payment. (Ironically, neither of these clients are the local one who processes in two weeks, she says, tearing at her hair.)

Today: another evaluation. I’m going to see if I can get it done in one day. I’ve managed to whittle the turnaround time to about six to eight hours, but I never have consecutive hours to devote to something so it gets broken down into a day and a half. Nothing like justifying a flat fee to force your learning curve.