Goodbye, Bruce

On October 24, I woke up to a phone call from my husband. He very calmly explained that he needed me to pick him up and take him to urgent care because he’d been in a car accident on his way to work…at 4:30AM. He’d been trying to reach me ever since then but, since my phone goes on Do Not Disturb mode from 7PM to 6AM, I’d missed his first thirty-eight calls. He assured me that he wasn’t severely injured, just had bad whiplash and wanted to have his shoulder and neck examined.

So I drove out to pick him up at the Whataburger across the street where the accident had occurred. The driver who had hit him ran the red light, smashing into his truck at the driver’s side tire. My husband was fairly certain his truck, a Mazda with over three hundred thousand miles on it, was totaled. As I drove him to urgent care, we fell silent. That truck had been given to him as a gift from his aunt right around the same time we started dating. There were a lot of memories associated with it (I called it Bruce, he called it Betsy). Of course, we were thankful he and the other driver were okay, but it was sad and kind of surreal to realize that we’d never drive that truck again.

The PA at urgent care took an x-ray of my husband’s shoulder and said everything looked normal. She suggested rest and Ibuprofen to help with the inflammation. We spent the rest of the day processing everything that had happened, trying to plan our next steps. My husband was sure he’d be able to borrow a work truck until we could find a replacement vehicle. Once the officer who was present filed his report, which had witness accounts stating the other driver was at fault, we would be receiving a call from their insurance and hopefully a check.

Or so we assumed.

Well, the other driver called their insurance and said my husband was at fault. Which prompted a call from our insurance. My husband hadn’t thought to get the names and phone numbers of the witnesses since it had all been included in the police report, but now he was being asked to contact those witnesses and have them call our insurance so they could corroborate his story. The officer’s report, my husband found out, hadn’t been filed yet and probably wouldn’t be for another week or two. As you can probably imagine, we were feeling really discouraged at this point. After venting a little to my mother-in-law about the situation, she suggested we contact an accident attorney or personal injury lawyer. So we did.

Updated 11/16: Two and a half weeks later, agents from both insurance companies have assessed the damage done to Bruce/Betsy and confirmed it as totaled. The police report has been filed. Now, we’re just waiting for the other driver’s insurance to accept liability and contact us with a) Bruce/Betsy’s estimated worth and b) a check to cover “pain and suffering.” My husband’s work needed their truck back so he’s driving a rental, the cost of which falls under “pain and suffering” as well as the physical therapy he’s been doing for his neck (a problem with his alignment was discovered upon a second visit to the doctor).

My husband’s been on the look out for a new truck but it’s dangerous to get our hearts set on anything when we don’t have a price range, or even a guarantee that we’ll get enough for a down payment. (We have some money saved up but not nearly enough.) At the beginning of this adventure, I started off with an almost zen-like peace, confident that God knew our plight and was actively working for our good. I still believe He’s working, but I’m struggling to hang onto that peace, especially because all we can do right now is wait.

It’s kind of funny. Around this time last year, we were dealing with my husband’s torn meniscus. I’ll be wary next year when fall rolls around. (Just kidding, but not really.) Oh, life is challenging, isn’t it? Challenging and unpredictable and wonderful all at once. This being the month of thanks, I’m trying to focus on all the good things we have. Like a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, food in our fridge, jobs, relatively good health, and one working car. That’s more than a lot of people can say. I have to remember that.

We’re really looking forward to Thanksgiving, when we get to see both my husband’s extended family and mine. My parents and siblings will be staying at my house for the whole weekend. It’ll be a tight squeeze and there will be a mess to clean up once Monday rolls around, but I know it’ll be a lot of fun. Things always seem a little brighter when family comes to visit.

If I don’t post anything else this month, happy Thanksgiving everyone!

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Promotion

It turns out there’s a lot more to book promotion than spamming social media with pictures of a book and the first few lines of a nice review.

While I’m waiting to hear back from my editor, I’ve been reading up on different ways to utilize social media. There’s a lot I didn’t know about! For example, there’s such a thing as book trailers? That blew my mind when I first heard about it. I’ve been dabbling in photo editing and making mock book covers. Surely, I thought, I can figure out how to make a short promotional trailer or GIF. 

Oh, I figured it out. It just took me five hours. (If interested, you can see the finished product here.) Finding the right royalty free pictures, editing them, applying filters and the right text took time. Finding an easy to use website that was also free took some time too. (I tried to make an actual movie clip but couldn’t find the right images for free, so I went with the GIF creator.) My incompetence frustrates me sometimes, but now that I know how to do it, I can do it again and much quicker! That’s the encouraging part.

While reading about all these different methods of book promotion, I started to feel overwhelmed. There’s so much information out there, so many different things to try. How am I supposed to keep track of it all? Plus, the concept that readers want to get to know me before they decide to give my book a try keeps popping up. It makes me want to run and hide. I’ve heard that before but I’ve somehow been able to convince myself that, if my book is amazing, it’ll sell itself. (That’s why we write, right? So that we don’t have to talk to people? The John Green quote on my home page says it so beautifully.) Starting a blog was hard enough. The idea of being interviewed is downright terrifying.

But things are changing, especially the way advertising works. I have to study up if I want to keep up. All of these different tactics might make my head spin now, but I have to believe that I’ll conquer it. I’ll learn, slowly but surely, what works for me and the book and what doesn’t. I’ll pick up a skill or two (might even get better at public speaking!) in the process and become a better person in the end. I have to see it that way, I have to be hopeful, otherwise I’ll spiral into an anxiety attack. This is what I wanted. This is what I’ve been dreaming about and praying about and working toward for all these years. Maybe I didn’t know what it was going to require of me then, but I do now. So let’s get started! (Before I lose my nerve…)

Two kinds of people

People are frustrating.

They cut you off at the intersection. They slow down on the freeway to stare at the van that’s stranded on the side of the road, creating unnecessary traffic. They tell other people your secrets. They post rude and angry things on their social media sites. They argue about things that aren’t that important. They demean you and your beliefs. They ignore and sometimes brush away your advice, even though you care so deeply about them. They betray you and then come crawling back when they need help. They say hurtful things in a flippant and oblivious manner. They text constantly when they’re supposed to be hanging out with you. They interrupt every event by forcing all those involved to take a picture. They throw tantrums when they don’t get what they want, even though they’re adults and they’re supposed to be mature. They disrespect people of authority. They ignore their children and complain about their parents. They give into their child’s demands and do everything for them. They give you unwanted and sometimes awkward advice. They poke around your private matters and try to fix things for you…

But people are also really great.

They notice you’re having a rough day and cut you some slack when you snap or make a mistake. They reach out to you with a random, encouraging text even though it’s been ages since you’ve spoken. They force you to go out and have fun when you’re down in the dumps. They chat with you for hours about books and movies and characters who don’t exist. They stay up late to cry and pray with you when your world is falling apart. They hold you when you cry and cheer you on when you’re discouraged and work hard beside you and celebrate your successes with you. They give you flowers and cards and balloons when it’s your birthday, even though you were trying to keep it a secret. They acknowledge your hard work with a smile or a thank-you. They love you unconditionally and make you feel important when you don’t think too highly of yourself.

People are flawed, complicated, unfinished, searching, wielders of unimaginable power; the power to influence. Think before you act. Listen before you speak. What kind of person will you be? How will you influence the lives around you?

On the subject of querying

I met an editor thanks to my grandmother.

She heard about a creative writing class being taught at a community center in Phoenix and thought it was something I’d be interested in. She paid the fee and told me to have a good time. This was the first writing class I’d ever taken. Up until then, all I’d learned about creative writing I’d picked up from my favorite authors. I was excited to learn more about the writing process and get a glimpse of the publishing world. More importantly, I wanted to meet the teacher. She was an editor. As shy and awkward as I was, I was suddenly determined to talk to this person and get her to look at my fledgling manuscript. She would be honest with me. She wouldn’t have any bias whatsoever. If I didn’t have any talent, she would tell me. And if she told me I should give up and choose another career path, I would do it. (Or so I kept telling myself.)

Most of the techniques and terms I heard about in this class were things I already knew; she just gave them names. But the most rewarding part of the class was that she gave us her contact information at the end, and told us to email her if we ever needed someone to edit our work. I thought this was perfect! I didn’t even have to give her the speech I’d been preparing. I let some time pass before I contacted her, partially because I didn’t want to sound desperate and partially because I wanted to read through my manuscript one more time. Once I was convinced it was as perfect as I could make it, I emailed her. I got a response about a week later. She was interested in my story. She wanted to take a look.

I worked with her for five to six months. She edited through my work, we met up at a nearby Barnes and Noble to talk about some of the things I could improve or take out of the manuscript, then I went home and worked on it. Then I emailed her again with the newest version and waited for her to have time to look at it. All the while, she was convinced I had talent and could get my story published. It was a dream come true. An adult, a professional, thought I could make it as an author! It was all the validation I needed. I saw her one more time with the third and final version of my manuscript, and she declared that there was nothing else she could teach me. Not really, but she said it was as polished and neat as it could possibly be. She gave me some tips on query letters and some good articles to read. Then she wished me the best of luck, telling me I could email her any time with questions or future projects.

And so my querying journey began. I had very high hopes despite the voice of reason at the back of my mind, murmuring that I should probably prepare myself for a few rejections. I spent several weeks doing research on the elements of a perfect query letter, reading query letters that succeeded in hooking an agent, and applying some of those elements in a letter of my own. I spent several more weeks doing research on agents, hunting for the select few who advocated for my genre and had published books similar to mine. I made lists, I wrote and rewrote my query letter until I thought it was perfect, edited through my manuscript one more time, and then I began emailing agents. I must have emailed at least fifty agents. Then came the horrible period of waiting. I lost track of the months and the many times I checked my email, holding my breath as the page loaded, wondering if that day would be the day when I would be discovered and my dreams would come true.

That day, unfortunately, never came. Instead, I received a plethora of polite rejections and assurances that just because one agent wasn’t interested didn’t mean no agent would ever be interested and that I should keep looking for that perfect fit. After almost a year of this, I had experienced a range of emotions from confusion to anger to determination to hopelessness to self-deprecation. I read more articles, did more research, worked on my query letter some more, and tried again with another fifty or so agents. I kept telling myself I had been stupid to hope I would hit gold on the first try, but maybe the second time would be different. No such luck. More polite, sickening, heart-breaking rejections. Then one kind agent added something else to their rejection letter: a website for beta readers. The only people who had read my manuscript at this time were me, the editor, and my sister.

Any shyness or insecurities were tossed out the window then. I couldn’t understand how a manuscript could be liked and approved by an editor, and then not get any bites in the agent pond. I needed to be bold. I needed to try something different. So I joined this writers’ forum and got a few beta readers for my manuscript. And then I found out the truth. My editor had been nice. Too nice. I still had a lot of work to do if I wanted my story to appeal to the age group I had in mind. I admit that I was officially done at this point. The amount of work I still had to do was overwhelming. I thought, “There isn’t enough time in the world to fix everything that’s wrong with this story!” I took a break from it. I dabbled in other stories and edited through older manuscripts, but my heart wasn’t really in it. I kept thinking, “Why does it matter? No one will ever read these stories anyway.”

It wasn’t a good time in the life of Becca. I was pretty much questioning my whole existence. Ignacio from Nacho Libre summed it up best. “Precious Father, why have you given me this desire to wrestle and then made me such a stinky warrior?”

But there was something about this particular manuscript, this story about faeries and a minotaur tyrant who wanted to take over the world and a group of friends who were closer than sisters and were strong enough to bring down the big bad together. Something about the magic of this island, the battles, the lessons, the drama. There was so much this story could teach young adults, so much hope it could give even though it was set in a mythical world. I thought of J K Rowling and all the rejections she received before Harry Potter was published. And look how that turned out for her! It was a major success and is still touching the lives of people to this day. (I don’t think I want to be as famous as J K Rowling, but I still greatly admire her work.)

I gave up on querying, but I didn’t give up on my writing. Obsessing about getting published was sucking the joy out of creating new worlds, characters, and plots. I went back to the basics, the simple task of putting words on paper. I kept my beta readers, though. With them, I slowly began to improve my craft.

That was three years ago.

I’ve come a long way since then, and I’m not the only one who thinks so either. My beta readers and fellow members of writers’ forums seem to think so too. I’m still not done with the faerie manuscript. I’ve managed to finish three other stories, but I’m still figuring out the best way to tell this story (The Sentinel’s Test). I’ve gotten confident enough in my other manuscripts to try querying again. I still haven’t gotten anything other than polite rejections, but I’m surprisingly okay. The desire to be discovered is still there, just buried a little deeper. I have a slightly more realistic picture of the publishing process and what it’s going to take for me to hold my printed book in my hands. It’s going to be hard, but I know now that I can’t allow myself to get discouraged. Or if I do get discouraged, I can’t stay there for too long.

As Richard Bach said, “A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.”

Surrounding myself with other authors and aspiring authors has helped. (Thank you, Twitter!) It turns out, I’m not the only one who has gone through this. That is always good to know. Hopefully, someday I’ll be finishing my querying journey and adding to this post. Someday, I’ll get my happy ending. For now, I’m just going to keep writing.

On the subject of erotica

There is a possibility that I’m overreacting, but I have to get this off my chest. Are my manuscripts not going to get as much attention as some other books because I don’t write explicit sex scenes?

I’ve read some pretty incredible books that didn’t include sex. Their plots, characters, and sweet love story arcs were spectacular without graphic love-making scenes. I don’t know, maybe I’m generalizing but, nowadays, it seems like that’s all I see on promotional book websites and social media accounts.

“Read my book. There’s a naked man on the cover who’s super ripped.” “Read my book. It takes place at a whorehouse.” “Read my book. It’s a coming of age story about a girl who loses her virginity.” “Read my book. It’s about a passionate threesome this girl had one night.” “Read my book. It’s about a man who saw a woman on the street, their eyes met, and they just had to have each other.”

Oh. My. Goodness.

People complain about cliches, unoriginal plot lines, unrealistic characters, boring villains, and lack-luster hooks in the writers’ forums I’ve been involved with, but doesn’t the overwhelming amount of sex in today’s literature bother them? With so many wives complaining about their husbands who have “too much” of a sex drive, I find the sex-crazed women in some of these advertised books to be a little unrealistic. There can only be so many ways to describe the act of making love without things becoming repetitive or unoriginal. But no, I don’t hear anyone complaining about this other than myself and the rest of the conservatives.

I know humans are sexual beings. We were created to crave intimacy with our significant others. It’s one of the greatest things about being alive. I’m a newly wed. I get it. But it’s already in our movies, in our TV shows, screaming at us through our music, staring at us through our magazines, dancing across our computer screens, and being published in trashy adult books. New writers shouldn’t have to include it in their work to get the attention of an agent. There shouldn’t have to be sex in a book in order for it to be considered good by the general populace.

Sex isn’t the only thing that sells. What about artful story-telling? What about incredible world-building or the creation of intriguing places no one’s ever heard about? What about the brave heroes and heroines we all want to grow up to be like and those unshakable friendships they had? What about presenting the constant struggle between good and evil in new and exciting ways? What about those fun controversial topics, characters going through real-life problems, people uniting despite their differences to fight a common enemy? Shouldn’t all those things be more important than how well your pillow talk looks on paper or how many sexual positions you know?

All right, I’m getting off my soapbox now.

I know that not all authors write erotica. I know not every book ever written has a sex scene in it. It’s just frustrating, not to mention discouraging, when I continue to encounter books with adult content on the websites of agents and new authors. They outnumber every other book genre ten to one. I’ve set some boundaries for myself and established parameters when it comes to my writing that will help keep my conscious clear without staying too close to the “prude” or “tween” or “spiritual” line. I strive to appeal to multiple groups of people without compromising my morals. It’s hard sometimes but I believe it’s worth it. There has to be a group of people somewhere out there who looks for books like mine. That’s who I’ll write for. I just have to keep looking for agents who will like and champion my sex-free manuscripts.

 

P.S.

If you like reading or writing erotica, that’s your deal. I’m not judging or looking down on you. I’m just venting about my frustrations as an undiscovered writer.