New Beginnings…

Today’s post features a lovely fellow writer, Rebecca Emin - www.rebeccaemin.com.

Rebecca Emin lives in Oxfordshire, with her husband and three small children. Her debut novel, ‘New Beginnings,’ is being published by Grimoire Books today. Isn’t that exciting? Rebecca has finished her second novel ‘When Dreams Come True’ which is also for older children.

 Rebecca enjoys writing flash fiction and short stories and has had several flash fiction stories included in fundraising anthologies. ‘A Knowing Look and Other Stories’ is a collection of Rebecca’s short stories which was published in November 2011. 

Rebecca is also an author for Ether Books who publish short stories and essays to mobile devices via the Ether app.

Pop in and see what’s happening on her website – there are giveaways and prizes up for grabs.

 Rebecca – I wish you every success with your writing!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Writing is a dangerous business.

Writing is a seriously dangerous business.

Once it’s in your blood, you’ve had it. There is no escaping that irresistable urge. Take it a step further and you’re in even more trouble… Start thinking up a specific article, a story. Before you know it, your entire brain downs tools to get involved.

Forget normal life – work deadlines, hungry children… a pot on the stove. It all fades into the background while your WIP dances centrestage in the auditorium of your mind. Until it is finished / edited / polished and emailed, it becomes the hub around which the rest of live revolves.

A novel is even worse. That puts your life on hold for months, sometimes years at a time.  The characters come alive in your head with such force that instead of sleeping, you watch movies of the next chapter that kick in the moment your head hits that pillow. The world in your head is stunning in its technicolour brilliance, while reality looks on bleakly with nothing to say. 

It doesn’t end once it’s emailed off to some editor / agent / publisher. Then the email addiction kicks in. It doesn’t matter that there was no response 2 minutes ago, maybe if I check again there’ll be an email waiting for me. You never know, you know.

So friends. Please tell me I’m not alone.

A slap from the soggy sock, reality

 When it dawned on me that I was born to write, I thought I had something special to offer. I knew it would only be a matter of time till my books were on the shelves and I was working on number 4… 5… 6…  Even my first few rejections were scalps on my belt, scars that put me in good company of all those rejected writers who are now bandied around millions of homes at bedtime.

Then I joined Twitter.

And found myself in the trenches with dozens, no… hundreds of others, just like me. Hopefuls with heads full of stories, dreaming of the day we snag the attention of an agent, a publisher. Bravely picking ourselves up after yet another No  Thank You, brushing up our queries and trying again.  And again.  And again.

Somewhere in all this I lost my sense of special.  Turns out I’m not unique or alone in my dreams. A drowing voice in a noisy sea of many fish. 

Yet, you know what else I’ve discovered?  Here in the slush and mud of I-wanna-be-published are some of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the joy of getting to know. Writers with immense talent, characters honed by patient (and sometimes not so patient – go on, admit it…) waiting. Wordsmiths generous with everything they’ve learnt along the way, happy to share tools, always picking each other up and plodding on cyber-hand-in-hand.

And then I got it. Just because we share the same dreams & hopes, does that make each of us any less special? Do we still have a unique contribution to make to the hallowed halls of the published? Here’s the test – dump us all in a room with an alligator and ask us to write about it. No two stories will be the same. I see the alligator through eyes coloured by a life’s worth of experiences… and so do you. The khaki green of his back that I see, is different to the shade of green you see. The possibilities are infinite. 

And so are the opportunities waiting for you and I. Let’s go get ‘em!

Fruitful waiting

All writers know what it means to wait. And wait. And wait some more… Waiting to hear from agents, publishers… All the while trying not to hope too much that this could be the one, this could be the Big Break. Only to have it all come crashing down in a two line form email. We vow off writing, throw in the keyboard and take up knitting. Two days and three scarves later, we just can’t help ourselves. We start all over again – the next agent, publisher…

Talk about an emotional rollercoaster!  Well – that’s the end of it for me.

No more writing? No more hankering after publication, fame and fortune? Of course not! I can’t stand knitting scarves.

No – what I mean is this: today marks the end of fruitless waiting.  From now on I’m going to keep churning out stuff. Does it matter that I’m working on my second novel before anything has happened with #1? Nope.  Does it matter that I’m only 3 assignments into my Writing for Children and Teenagers course? Not at all. Little Tiger Press – get ready for my stuff!

Sometimes I am a finely tuned waiting machine and other times I am a jittery bag of hope and despair that checks my email every two minutes. But from now on… I will be productive.

Here’s wishing you all the best as you pursue your dreams!

You want to publish my book? No thanks!

I’ve either just made the best decision of my life – or the worst!

I’ve walked a long journey with my novel Shackles.  This journey includes being accepted for publication in South Africa by one of the three major Christian publishing houses – only to be told a year later that the market had changed and fiction publishing in SA was no longer viable. At the beginning of this year, one of the other SA Christian publishers said they will publish it if it is still available – when the market changes… The third doesn’t do fiction. So my options in SA are all out.

Enter… a friend of a friend in America.  Let’s call him Mike.  Mike loved my work and offered to publish it via Booksurge on my behalf. He had dreams of establishing his own publishing house and was just busy putting his own book (non-fiction) through the process.  At first I justified it to myself as not being self-publishing – after all, Mike was publishing my book, not me. He even had a name for his publishing house.  But the more I looked at it, the more I just knew that it still boiled down to self-publishing.

Being on Twitter has opened up a world of agents, published writers, yet-to-be-published writers, publishing houses… I’ve had such a new perspective on the whole industry. I’ve come away with two certainties:

1. Self-publishing is good for those who have a platform. (I don’t.)
2. Self-publishing your own book paints it black in the eyes of agents and traditional publishers and will adversely affect future publication prospects.

So… this week I made the decision and told Mike no thanks. I’m so grateful for his interest in my book, his high opinion of Shackles has boosted my confidence in my work.  But with the long term goal of being published traditionally firmly in my sights, I’m simply not prepared to go that route. Even if I have to wait. And wait some more. And some more.

Question:  Have I made the biggest mistake of my life?  Or not?