I Want A New Drug

Some people say you should write what you know. It makes sense, doesn’t it? After all, you can deliver a more compelling story if you’re familiar with the subject.

My editor told me from day one to expand out of my comfort zone and do just the opposite.

When I wrote Unlikely Venture, I had a storyline in my head. Okay, that’s not exactly true. I had about a HUNDRED stories in my head before landing on the ONE, and even then I flip-flopped around until I landed on the right resolution. I decided to take a few risks when developing the story but I was always anchored to my original ideas. Two books later, I’ve sufficiently escaped the confines of that comfort zone. I went in directions that I’d have never considered before and I love the result. Hopefully, you all will as well…

Creating…is an addiction.  One I can’t fight.

Now I sit at my laptop scratching my head. Heightened drama, more intrigue, more plot twists…yes, The Venture Series in totality exceeded my expectations. But now what? I’ve written my first contemporary romance series, and though I am completely invested in my characters, it’s…over. Time to say goodbye. Sigh.

Courtesy of www.mikefook.com

Courtesy of www.mikefook.com

I liken it to a breakup. You spend years with someone and eventually part ways because you both want different things out of life. All the time you invested is lost and you need to refocus that energy on developing a new relationship. It’s nerve wracking. How are you going to find someone you think is just as perfect as the former Ms. or Mr. Right? There’s a whole lot of effort involved and you might need to expand your horizons and level set your expectations. You also have to open yourself to the possibility that there may be more heartbreak on the horizon before you find THE ONE.

But then one night, the stars align and you run into the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. The initial fear and apprehension may linger…after all, if something is too good to be true…well, you know how that saying goes.

As time goes on, you realize your life would be meaningless without this person and if you hadn’t opened your eyes wide enough to make a change, you would have missed out on meeting your true soul mate. You took a risk and it paid off.

I came to this realization after receiving some sound advice from a fellow author. She opened my eyes to a world where I need to challenge myself and embrace new ideas and direction. It makes perfect sense!

I need to disrupt my writing process, to dig deep and continue mastering my craft. It will take time, dedication and patience (which is always in short-supply). But I’m committed to my end goal…and diversification will be a key driver.

Courtesy of www.rlsbb.com

Courtesy of www.rlsbb.com

Who says authors aren’t entrepreneurs???

Resounding success is not found overnight, nor is it the result of “playing it safe.” It’s about the journey, not necessarily the destination (unless the destination is the NYT Bestseller list!). And it’s always the biggest risks that pay off the most.

Jagged Little Pills, Al Bundy and Microfiber

“When the world slips you a Jeffrey, stroke the furry wall.” – Infant Sorrow

GHTTG_Soundtrack

I’ve had a couple of Jeffries shoved down my throat over the past few days.  Nearly impossible to swallow.  They’d been kind of lodged in my throat, not cutting off my breathing but jagged enough to remind me they were still ever-present.  Until I decided to take matters in my own hands.

Last night, I decided I’d had enough so I coughed them up and spit them out.  Then, I grabbed my laptop.  That’s the metaphorical “furry wall” for me.  The cobwebs of self-pity cleared and keyboard therapy commenced.

Pity parties suck and they’re never any fun, no matter how many martinis you consume.  Just FYI…

After all, there are so many other things that can turn that frown upside down!  And in my house, you never have too far to look…and how apropos that we’re on the topic of stroking.

I walked into the playroom to check on George, since he was being strangely quiet for long enough that alarm bells started going off in my head.  And there he was, sprawled on the couch and pulling an Al Bundy.

Crikey, am I dating myself with that reference???

I tried to keep a straight face but jeez…the image was just too much for me to handle.  The diaper didn’t stop him either.  No regard for the fact that he’s not potty-trained…he was having a grand old time on the MICROFIBER couch.  No wonder why he was being so quiet.  I should have known something was up.

 

I Do Love Being The Master Of Someone Else’s Destiny

I wouldn’t exactly label myself a control freak.  True, I like things done a certain way (fine, MY way) and in my time.  But it’s not like I fall apart if they don’t go according to my set schedule.  I may get a little crabby, but I’m not completely unreasonable or unyielding.  I’m just…regimented.  =)

Sometimes, though, it would be nice to set the stage for a scene in my life and then dictate exactly how I want it to play out.  And then…the scene actually unfolds the way I’ve imagined it.

This secret desire to exercise control over a situation – could this be why I enjoy writing so much?  Ah, to be the master of someone ELSE’S destiny, since it’s abundantly clear that there is so much in my life that’s outside the scope of my influence.  Maybe it’s therapeutic for me to seek refuge with my laptop after a particularly grueling episode of the nighttime bathing ritual, where nobody listens, the bathroom is soaked, sopping wet towels are strewn about and the counter and sink are trimmed in peppermint-flavored Crest.  Yelling doesn’t help, threats are futile.

Perhaps I found a way to channel all of that pent-up frustration into something constructive.  During those long dark moments, I remember that even though things don’t always play out according to my plans, I still have the power to dictate what’s going to happen next in the lives of my characters.  And that’s definitely worth something.

It doesn’t completely make up for my lack of sanity, but it makes the constant struggle a little easier to bear.  At the very least, the angst feeds my creativity.

I Left My Beloved Laptop In A Fitting Room Yesterday…Senility Is Setting In Sooner Than Anticipated

Wine

I would say that I get one solid hour of stress-free, uninterrupted writing time per week.  That doesn’t mean I only write during that one hour; it only means that I don’t have seven other things cooking simultaneously.  I can’t tell you how much I love this time.  My daughter throws back handsprings.  I type.  Hard and fast.  Generates a lot of curious stares.  Sometimes a few comments.

Yesterday was no exception.  I churned out pages and pages of backstory.  Smiling, sighing, giggling, clapping.  It was a super-productive tumbling class.  But instead of celebrating the completion of a very challenging storyline once I got home, I nearly had a coronary.

My laptop was gone.  Not in the car, not in the house.  Not ANYWHERE.

My heart literally stopped for a few seconds…until I called Justice and found out I left it in the fitting room.  As an aside, I never leave my laptop on the car because I’m afraid someone will break in and steal it.  Ironic, huh?

I haven’t fully recovered…the palpitations have slowed but I’m still reeling.  Even three glasses of wine did nothing to settle my nerves.  I should have opted for the vodka.

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