Life, liberty, and the pursuit of writing

Wealthy writer is kind of an oxymoron, sort of like slutty nun or diet ice cream.  Yes, a good writer can become wealthy and, judging by some shlock out there that has garnered movie deals, even bad writers can become wealthy.  But it is all too easy to be a good to great writer and wallow in anonymity (and the concomitant poverty) due to myriad factors of publicity, chance, circumstance, and so on.  There are literally millions of books on Amazon competing for a reader's attention.  Getting someone to notice your book without lots of money to advertise it is like sitting in the back of a giant classroom, raising your hand, and shouting "Pick me! Me!" in a very tiny voice.  So, considering the sacrifices one makes to pursue writing (or any artistic pursuit for that matter), I sometimes get the idea in my head that I should return to a full time job.  It was with this thought that I began a conversation with a friend who recently quit her full time job to pursue, well, her life.

Now let me be clear.  I was born on the fourth of July.  I am a tremendously independent person.  I would never advocate mortgaging your home or going on public assistance in order to fulfill your dream of becoming a unicycle rider in the circus.  On the other hand, if you can sustain yourself through your art or some other non-soul-sucking means, is it worth giving up your dream to have certain luxuries?  This was the conversation I had with my friend.  Her approach was this: put (fill in the blank with desired luxury material possession) plus the full time job you would need to obtain it on one side of the scale, and put your artistic pursuit on the other.   No matter how I varied this imaginary desire (Mercedes Benz and FT job, Nikon D3X and FT job, date with Johnny Depp and a...oh, wait, that's another imaginary desire), writing always sent that little mental balance tray kerplunking down like a block of parmegiano on grandma's table on pasta Sunday.

In a much earlier post, I shared some of the vocations and avocations I've engaged in over the years -  pursuits as disparate as taxi driver and actress.  Whenever I participated in something creative I felt far more comfortable in my skin no matter what I was being paid (or not being paid).  Whenever I participated in endeavors that weren't creative, I would make mental notes of those experiences so that I might use them later as reference for a character I might someday play or write about.  In this manner I would attempt to transform the banal and drab into something with the potential for color.  There was no question of where my heart lived.

Ursula LeGuin once wrote of the quandry of explaining "How do you write?".  For many writers, myself included, the process is intuitive.  I can discuss grammar, spelling, and punctuation but I can't explain the process of writing anymore than I can explain how I breathe.  I know the basic mechanics of both but I'd be hard put to go into great technical detail.  I don't approach writing in a linear way.  Words (and music) were things I was born with.  I might keep notes and draw sketches when I write, but I don't create extensive outlines or plan everything out step-by-step.  Everything comes from someplace within. It's almost as if I "meet" my characters one day, I "hear" their problem or dilemma, and they tell me their story.  All the time I am listening to them, I am aware that my characters are a part of me, but that part is magnified into a whole person with exaggerated flaws or talents, new quirks and, sometimes, a taste for disco fries.

So don't expect to see me trolling LinkedIn with a three page resume any time soon.  I feel compelled to tell my characters' stories.  And I am happiest when I'm doing that. 

Winter is coming....again....and again.

I don't need the Starks to tell me winter is coming, all I have to do is look out my window at, grrrrrr, more snow. 

Now those of you who love skiing, skating, Malamutes, and other things that take you out into the cold (willingly!) may not understand how I feel about the white stuff.  Here's a good analogy:  The amount of snow that falls in New Jersey is in direct proportion to the intensity of my desire to move to the south of France.  (Ah!  La Mole.  But that's another story.)  I'd even settle for Florida despite my deep seated fear of alligators and men who wear white shoes and belts.

And what's with naming snow storms after Greek gods and Roman mythology? Oh boy!  I can hardly WAIT for snowstorm "Maximus".  (Hello, Expedia?  When's the next flight to Tampa?).  Perhaps I shouldn't be wary of Maximus; Wiley (thrown in there because there is no "v" in Latin) sounds like he might be a very tricky storm to deal with.  Visions of Acme anvils of snow clobbering the Northeast fill my head when I hear that one.

Well, for some ungodly reason, my grandparents left warm, sunny Italy many moons ago, left the cactus fruit voluptuously falling to the ground, left the verdant olive groves and pregnant grape vines, and moved to...New Jersey?  Sheesh, grandpa.  When they changed your name in Ellis Island, they should have changed it to Stark.

TWO BOOKS published this year!

Want to know about self-publishing?  I'm not-so-rapidly becoming an expert.  (Although some would argue that two books in one year is not too shabby in the rapid department). 

It's been a learning process and a journey....book covers (been through two graphic designers), formatting (learn about this BEFORE you write), and - the high bar of all obstacles - advertising.

It is with a mind to jumping this high bar that I'm asking you to SHARE this blog!  Please?  Pretty please with ink on top?  I would also appreciate reviews on Amazon.  If you've read one or both of my books, your opinion is solicited, esteemed, and appreciated.  I will even bake you a cake if you'll come pick it up in Jersey.  (No, sorry, it isn't "Joisey".)

I sincerely appreciate your support, your readership, your comments and reviews.  I'm currently working on a sequel to the first Brandy novel but it's going slowly because my pc crashed and FOUR back up drives failed to restore my files (I think one of the back up drives messed up the hard drive...but that's another story titled "Do Not Buy cheap Clickfree or Seagate Backup Drives").

Hugs to you all!  Please be patient while I redo this blog!