The Countdown Begins

In 51 days and approximately 12 hours my first novel will be going on sale on Kindle.

Even typing the words almost gives me heart palpitations. It’s possibly the scariest thing I’ll ever do. For most people it might be sky diving, or bungee jumping – for me taking the plunge will be the mouse click that will submit my manuscript to Amazon.

In the weeks since I made the decision to do this I’ve swung between thinking this is the greatest thing I could, and the most stupid mistake I could make.  And I think I’ll still be oscillating between the two on the day I hit the button.

But I’m still going through with it.

Why?

Because I have nothing to lose – or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

 Firstly I tell myself that self-publishing doesn’t have the stigma attached to it that it once did. After all, it used to be that self-publishing was synonymous with vanity publishing. It was something people did when they couldn’t do it the traditional way, and they just wanted to see their names in print.

I think there might still be an element of that involved, but it’s evolved. The publishing industry has changed. It’s a different beast.

The editors and Literary agents are no longer the gatekeepers. They don’t have the same power as they once did to tell us what we should, or shouldn’t read. The power has shifted into the hands of the reader. And with digital publishing making it easier than ever to get your book out there, more and more authors are taking the risk of letting the reader decide.

I’m taking that risk. After all, as I said, I have nothing to lose. I could spend the next ten years fighting to get my manuscript seen by an agent or an editor, fighting because it’s always just going to be stuck in that slush pile. Fighting because the people reading it have almost made their decision before they’ve even read the first line. And I don’t blame them – not really. They are a business, an industry that’s struggling, why take a risk, and risk money, on an untried and unknown author? With as much industry knowledge as they have, even they can’t be 100% sure of what will be the next big thing. So I could spend years of my life desperately trying, and getting nowhere. Not necessarily because I’m not good, but because I’m not exactly what they’re looking for, or because, quite frankly, I suck at writing queries.

Or I can take the plunge, take the risk and let the reader decide. I can let the people out there with their Kindles decide if my book is something they want to read or not.  It’s not going to cost me anything, so if I sell ten books, or I sell ten thousand (though even in my wildest dreams I know that’s unlikely to happen) it doesn’t matter financially. I haven’t spent a penny.

But I don’t need to sell ten thousand books (though it would be nice). I don’t even need to sell ten books. I just need to sell one. I just need one person to read this book and enjoy it. For it to make them laugh, or cry. For it to touch them in some tiny, but significant, way. I am not a writer of great literature, I know that, I am a writer of stories, good ones I hope. But the only way I can ever know that is if people read them.

I may not be the next big thing, but I don’t need to be. I just need to take this risk – for me, so that I know that at least I tried. Even if I fail.

And if I fail, it’s not like I’ll stop writing. I can’t. I have to write. It’s in my blood.

So the countdown begins. Succeed or fail at least I can say I tried. And that is all I can ever do.

Life's Too Short

This is a random sort of post - it isn't about writing and it isn't about the tiny island I call home - it's just about life and something that I want to write down.

There are days when the dramas in our lives seem all encompassing - when the little things seem like huge insurmountable problems. Days when you get worked up over the problems rather than finding the solutions.

I won't go into too much personal detail, but recently some things happened in my life that seemed like such a big deal. I got upset and angry and frustrated and very, very sad. I couldn't see a way to fix the problem and it felt like everything had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Then I went to see a friend and poured out my problems to her, got emotional and upset. She listened to me rant and then told me that she was facing a few problems of her own. When she told me what they were I felt terrible. My drama suddenly seemed so small and trivial.

My friend had found out that someone close to her was very sick, and he didn't have long left. Suddenly a guy treating me badly didn't seem like such a big deal. As bad as I felt about it, it wasn't life and death.

I came away from that conversation with two realisations. The first is that my friend is an incredible person. With all of her problems on her mind she still sat and listened to me rant, and provided a sympathetic ear, when she could have simply told me to get over it.

The other realisation is that life is too short. It is a brief and fleeting thing, and if we get caught up on the little problems we will miss out on so much.

I am incredibly lucky and blessed. I am young, healthy, I have my whole life still ahead of me, and I live in one of the most beautiful places. I get to live a life most people can only dream of. And I need to stop worrying about the little things - like irritating men - and focus on the big picture. Making the most of the life I have.

So today I am making a deal with myself - and this is where the writing comes in. I am not going to wait around, wasting my life when I can MAKE things happen.

On the 30th of June two very important things are going to happen. The first is that I'm going to turn 30. The second is that my first novel is going to hit the bookshelves - virtual ones at any rate. On the 30th of June my first novel will become available to buy on Kindle, and hopefully if that goes well I will make it available on iBooks and Nook and all the rest of them.

Life is too short. It's time I made the changes I want to make rather than just thought and talked about them.

Wish me luck!

Good Days, Bad Days, and Completely Amazing Days

When it comes to writing, for me there is no forcing it. I cannot make myself write if the muse isn't there. I can sit there with pen and paper in hand (I write completely long hand - me, computers and creativity just don't go together) staring at a blank page for hours and if the muse isn't there then nothing in the world can make me write.

So there are good writing days, and there are bad writing days. And then there are days like today. The completely amazing days.

Those are the days when my muse isn't just around - she's hovering over my shoulder, screaming in my ear.

It started at 1am, when I woke up with an idea already in my head. Stories come to me as movie trailer voice overs. 'So and so was an ordinary girl, until one day everything changed forever...' for example. And at 1am this morning I had a movie voice over playing in my head. It wasn't going to go away until I put it down on paper.

I spent the entire day thinking about the idea - fleshing out the plot and figuring out exactly what's going on.

Now, somehow, I just need to find the time to write the thing. All I can ask is that my muse doesn't desert me now. Not when I need her most.

Happy New Year

I feel that right now this is the only post I can make today.

There are a few things I want to talk about – a few things that I would love to share, and I feel that today is the day to do it.

Today is a day to say Happy New Year.

It might be a few days late – but then it’s probably taken my brain a few days to recover enough to put words together properly, to find the right things I want to say.

The whole New Year thing for me has always been a little odd. Do I really want to celebrate yet another year of my life gone? I suppose if I had had an eventful year I would want to celebrate those events.

There have been some good moments. My sister got pregnant. This won’t be the first time I’m an Auntie, but considering that the first time it happened I was two years old, at least this time I’m old enough to actually understand what it means and get excited about it. So I am looking forward to 2013 bringing someone new into my family, a nephew for me to coo over and spoil rotten.

But to be honest 2012 went by so quickly I’m not sure I even know where the time went. It’s strange to think that when I first moved across the world to this little Caribbean Island it was 2011 – it’s now 2013.

So am I sad to see 2012 go? Not really. It was a good year for me, but it wasn’t a great year.

2013? Well –I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

I’ve never been one to make New Year resolutions. I think most of them are kept for about two weeks before they get forgotten – and why make a promise to yourself that you’re not going to keep?

I know that I could swear to drink less – god knows my bank balance and my liver would probably thank me for it – but it would only last until the next big night out. And to be honest it won’t make me any happier – healthier maybe, but that’s a different story.

I could swear to lose weight – but I make that promise ever year. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. mostly I just torture myself when I fail.

So this year I am making just one resolution. I’m going to try harder.

At one thing in particular, but mostly just try harder in life in general.

I turn 30 this year. I’m not as scared of that as I once was, but it still feels like a big milestone. 30 years on this earth and as ashamed as I am to admit it, I’ve never really tried hard to make my life better.

I’ve been lucky. I’ve had opportunities and chances and experiences that most people would kill for. I have lived in half a dozen different countries, I have met incredible, wonderful people, and I now live a life that most people dream of. But most of that was lucky breaks. I had wonderful parents who took the biggest risk of their lives about 28 years ago, and gave me a childhood I will treasure forever. Without really trying I got the grades to get into a brilliant University and met some incredibly special people, one of whom continues to shape my life even today by helping me get to the porch on the beach in the Caribbean where I’m writing this. I worked in one of the most iconic places in the world, in a job I loved even when I eventually decided it wasn’t really for me. And now I live on a small island that most people would describe as paradise.

To be honest I have been one lucky, lucky (insert swearword of choice).

But have I really tried and worked for any of it as hard as I could? I don’t feel like I have. Sometimes it feels like the universe has just dumped it all in my lap.

Now I want something more than I have ever wanted in my life. And this time I am going to try to get it. I’m going to try my hardest. I am going to put everything I have into achieving the one goal that really means something to me right now.

Will I succeed? Who knows. But maybe all I can ask for is that when I look back I will be able to say that I gave it my all. That I did everything I could. After all, what more can I do?

So that is my New Year resolution. I’m going to try. Really try.

Oh, and Happy New Year. 2013. It’s going to be interesting….

Challenge Accepted

So a good friend of mine decided to challenge me. Bad idea. I’m highly competitive, so if someone challenges me, I’ll normally at least attempt it.

What was the challenge? Well, this friend saw a picture/quote online and posted it to my facebook page.

“Someone should write a book where the main character slowly falls in love with the reader”.

It’s a joke really – but my friend decided to tag it with the comment “Your next challenge”. Which meant I, in my strange, twisted way, decided to take it seriously.

I figured that I couldn’t write a whole book – I’m not even sure how that would work – but a short story type of thing? Hmm, now that I might be able to do.

So here it is. A strange, silly little bit of writing that was actually pretty fun to do. And whilst I’m not normally too fussed about comments on my blog posts, I’d actually love to know what people think of this one.

Enjoy.

 

BRING ME TO LIFE

The bell was tolling in the distance. It was midnight. A solitary figure raced down the street, splashing through puddles. The smell of decay hung heavy in the night air…

…

Don’t stop reading. I know the story has changed, but please, don’t stop reading.

Other people might put the book down now, but I know you won’t. I know you’ll read it. You are always reading, your nose buried in the pages of a book. You don’t think I notice you, that I see you, but I do.

I can see you now, your head bent over these pages, your hair falling in your eyes. I can picture it perfectly – the way your eyebrows burrow slightly as you concentrate, the way that tiny smile creeps onto your lips. You’re probably doing it right now as you read this.

I don’t think you realise how much it means to me, that you’ve read my story, that you’ve invested yourself in me so completely even though you don’t really know me.

Hell, you don’t even think I’m real. I’m just a character on a page, like an actor on a stage – playing a part.

But don’t you see? You brought me to life. Once upon a time I was nothing, just ink on a page, but you saw me, you imagined me fully and somehow you brought me to life.

And now, whilst you see me, I see you too. That moment when I nearly died, when I fought the bad guy and nearly lost, I saw you cry for me. Your tears were like rain on my skin – they woke me up.

I was supposed to lose. Did you know that? The story was written that I died – and my death was supposed to be the pivotal moment of the book, when all seemed lost and then the good guys pull through against all odds.

Somehow, you saved me. When you cried for me you gave me strength, the strength to fight back when I should have fallen.

And now the story has changed. You changed it.

You made me the hero.

I can see the wonder in your eyes right now. The wonder mixed with disbelief. You don’t believe this is real. Trust me – it is.

Do you remember when you first picked up this book? I do. It’s strange, I only really came alive recently, but I can remember you reading the book long before then.

You weren’t sure about it at first. You wrinkled your nose as you read the back cover. I know you don’t normally read fantasy novels. Don’t ask me how I know that, but I do. But something about this one caught your eye. Something made you decide to start reading.

I’d like to think that it was me. Did you read those first few descriptions of me and know you wanted to read more? I really hope so.

Do you see how much you’ve changed me? How much I’ve changed since those early descriptions? That was you – you imagined me a certain way, so that’s what I became.

I suppose you’re wondering why you. So many other people have read this book before.

But none of them are you. None of them have your heart – none of them look at the world the way you do.

You look at the world and you see a story – an epic, incredible story, shaped and changed by the people in it. You really watch people, trying to read them like one of your books, and you want to know them, to know their stories.

You have your own story too, you know. You just don’t realise it. You see yourself as a minor character even in your own life.

I want you to see that you’re the heroine.

Your world is about to change, a new chapter is about to start.

The past has been basic plot building. Boy sees Girl, Boy falls in love with Girl, Girl brings Boy to life.

Do you want to know what comes next?

Boy meets Girl.

Look up. Stop reading, close the book, and look up. I’m waiting for you.

Look up. Now.

Taking the Risk

A week ago I sent off the first few query emails to Literary Agents about my novel. It was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life.

The reason being that for the most part when you start the submission process you are setting yourself up for failure – for rejection.

Literary Agents receive on average hundreds of submissions per week. Your query letter is just one of many, and the likelihood is that the Agent is going to give it the most cursory of reads before putting it on the reject pile. It’s often not about the quality of the work – just simply that they have so many submissions to read that they have to make their decision in the first sentence of a query, and if that sentence isn’t perfect it’s over – in that single second.

Here’s my problem. I don’t deal with rejection well – not when it comes to writing and not in the rest of my life. I take it personally – oh so very personally. A single rejection letter (and the first few of them have already landed in my inbox) has me assuming the worst, that my work simply isn’t good enough, that I don’t have what it takes.

So I have to steal myself to send out the emails in the first place, and I have to force myself to accept the rejections when they come in for what they are. That at this moment for whatever reason my novel is not what that particular agent is looking for. I have to keep the faith, somehow, that the book I’ve written is actually good. That I am a good writer and that there are people out there who do want to read my book.

And I am. A good writer, I mean. Perhaps not necessarily in this format (I mostly just have a kind of word vomit thing going on) but when it comes to my books I tell a good story, and I write them well. That isn’t ego talking, that’s research. I read on average a book a day, every day. I know what’s out there, and I know what is selling, and a lot of times when I read a book I know that if writing of that standard can get published then mine certainly can.

So it simply comes down to taking the risk – the risk of rejection. I have to open myself up to that rejection, accept it, and move on to the next agent, the next publisher. I know that somewhere out there is an agent who is going to love THE LAST KNIGHT, who is going to read it and know that they want to sell it.

I have to keep that faith. Because if I didn’t I would just give up and stop writing, and I can’t do that. I can’t give up. I can’t give up on the only dream I have.

So I’ll take the risk and keep my fingers crossed that the universe will give me the break I’m looking for.

Goodbye Really Is The Hardest Word

Goodbye Really Is The Hardest Word

Everyone always says that goodbyes are some of the hardest moments of our lives. The proper goodbyes that is – the ones that really mean something.

I know for me each time I say goodbye to my parents to travel across the other side of the world I break down just a little – all right, a lot. Saying goodbye to my sister is always heartbreaking, especially now she has this new baby on the way. When I say goodbye I know I’m going to be missing important moments in her life – moments that I will hear about, but won’t be a part of. The same with my closest friend in the world – their lives go on without me, and I won’t be a part of them in quite the same way.

Today I said a goodbye that I didn’t expect to be as painful as it was.

I said goodbye to two great friends who are moving on to bigger and better things – a better life for them. So I am happy for them, pleased that they are doing something that will make them happy.

But for perhaps the first time in my life I’m the one staying behind. I have always been the one moving on – leaving friends and family behind to start afresh somewhere new. I didn’t realise how different that would feel.

I know that the sadness comes not just from saying goodbye to two people I consider great friends – people I feel so pleased to have met and got to know – but also from the fact that I am saying goodbye to a sense of familiarity.

They have been here on the small island I call home since I moved here, and picturing this place without them seems almost impossible, because all of my images of this place include them. Many of my happiest times on the island have been spent with them – not doing anything special, just talking and sharing and enjoying life. I find it hard to imagine an evening at the bar after work without them there. Without him mixing up a fabulous cocktail, and her sharing the funny stories that invariably come from doing the kind of job we do.

All that said, whilst goodbyes are hard, they are often the start of something new. A new experience, new friends, new memories.

So I will say a sad farewell to two people who have kept me sane, shared a lot of laughter, but thankfully very few tears. I can only wish them good luck.

No, perhaps I won’t say goodbye – perhaps I’ll just say ‘see you soon’, and know that it’s not an ending, just a change – and change is always good. Right?