Tag Archives: books

What Now?

4 Apr

I’ve loved books forever. As a young girl, I was never without something to read. Whether it was a library book (best smell in the world, in my opinion) my brother’s tattered MAD Magazines or the back of a cereal box, I devoured words. Books allowed me to escape into a world of my own choosing; they took me on adventures, they let me be somebody else for a little while when it was too painful to be me.

As a kid, my dream was either to become a concert pianist or a writer. I ended up pursuing music because I was pretty good at it, although I don’t think I was ever competitive enough to make it as a concert artist. Instead, I became a piano teacher. Truthfully, I’m glad I chose that path as it allowed me the chance to raise my four children while I worked from home.

My other dream–the writing dream–never did die out, though. For years I fantasized about writing a novel but never did anything about it–either I was too busy or the fear of failure stopped me before I even wrote that first sentence. That changed when my youngest daughter was diagnosed with cancer. I’ve beaten that story into the ground so I won’t rehash it, but I will say that experience was the turning point for me. The lesson was obvious: time is short so follow your passion.

I got to it. I began blogging. I published an essay in a small magazine and one in an online publication. Nothing big, but it was a start. I blogged some more. Then I sat down and began writing a novel. I blogged some more and got better at my writing.  I joined a writer’s group and shared my stuff. They liked it. Now, ninety thousand words later, I have actually finished a novel.

Now what?

Here comes the hard part. Being new at this trying to get your noel published game, it’s like I’m starting back at square one. Everyone has opinions on what to do: send out queries; find and agent; no, no–don’t do that–self publish instead! I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who can help you.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what happens. I wrote a novel and I loved the process of writing it. I didn’t do it for the money or the glory (well maybe a little.) I did it because there was something inside of me pushing to get the story out. I did it because I couldn’t not do it any longer.

Dear readers, I thank you for hanging in there with me over the past several years, always encouraging me to keep going. I value your support more than I can ever express. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

Now if I can only come up with a decent title for the damn thing.novel on desk

 

 

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My Literary Addiction

26 Sep

nancy_drewIn the past two weeks alone, I’ve read three complete novels. You’re probably wondering how I can find the time to read that much with close to fifty piano students, three kids still at home, a household to run, and a novel to write, but you see—a drug addict will always find her fix. And that’s what reading is to me—a fix, an escape, a downright cheap and easy way to flee my often complex reality.

I remember when I unearthed my deep love of books—or more aptly, my love of escapism. I was in the in the fifth grade, and although I had always loved reading a variety of books and authors, I hadn’t yet become obsessed with reading until I discovered The Nancy Drew Mysteries by Carolyn Keene on the shelf at the public library. I was instantly hooked. I fell in love with Nancy because she was everything I thought I wasn’t—pretty, self assured, smart and independent. She drove around in her little “roadster” solving mysteries with the help of her two close girlfriends and a father who loved and encouraged her. It was easy to lose myself in that idyllic utopia that had eluded me in my own life.

My fifth grade teacher soon became concerned that I was limiting my literary horizons by reading only Nancy Drew Mysteries. Mr. Robinson, whom our fifth grade class had fittingly nicknamed “Robin Red Beard,” because of his scraggly red beard, was a balding, pale-skinned hippie who wore earth shoes and faded Levis and although he had a booming voice, he was a gentle giant. He took me aside one day and gently suggested it was time to branch out and read other genres. He then handed me a copy of “The Witch of Blackbird Pond” by Elizabeth George Speare. At first I resisted. Give up my beloved Nancy Drew for a book about a witch in the 1600’s? I think not!

But because I wanted to please my beloved Mr. Robinson, I began to read it, and you can probably figure out the rest of the story. That was the end of Nancy for the time being and the opening up of a whole newsounder literary world for me which included books like “Summer of the Swans,” by Betsy Byers, “The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler” by E.L. Konigsberg, and “Sounder” by William H. Armstrong. I’m not sure if he even realized it, but Mr. Robinson had given me the key to the candy store.

blackbird pondmixed up files

A few years later when I was in junior high, I secretly rekindled my love affair with Nancy Drew until one embarrassing day at the public library when the man helping me check out my tall stack of mysteries narrowed his eyes at me.

“Aren’t you a little old for these?” he teased.

I was mortified. “They’re for my little sister,” I said, stammering. I don’t even have a sister.

Sure they are,” he said with a knowing smile.

I was so humiliated that when I got outside the library I dumped the whole lot into the big metal book return box and didn’t pick up a Nancy Drew mystery until many years later when my two oldest girls were in elementary school. One Christmas I bought a box set of her mysteries as a present for them and I was so excited to watch them fall in love with Nancy that I couldn’t wait to see their excited faces on Christmas morning.

“Nancy Drew?” Leah said with a scowl after tearing open the box. “Ewwww, Mom! I hate Nancy Drew—she’s so old fashioned!”

My heart sank. It turned out that neither girl was interested in reading my beloved Nancy. The entire box set ended up on the shelf, untouched and unread until years later when I finally donated them to the same library where I began my love affair with her over forty years ago.

You win some and you lose some, I guess. My daughters’ Nancy Drew turned out to be Harry Potter and that’s just fine. It doesn’t matter what they read, as long as they read.

Thank goodness there are some addictions in life that are good for you.

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