I'd promised when I began this blog that I'd write about why I began writing. But I do so much better writing about something that makes me angry or something technical like herbal remedies or concoctions. To sit down and write about why I began writing, when I had no formal training, seems a monumental task. But I'll try.
First, I started this blog because my book was being published and I was told I needed a website, a Facebook page, a Twitter page, and a blog. And if I could do more I should do more. Turns out there are only about 16-17 working hours in a day, and I couldn't do much more. I was never told what to put on the blog or website or FB page or Twitter, and to everyone offering the advice that query was irrelevant. But to me it was most relevant. What in the world was I going to say to people each week or each month even? How as I going to get followers? And if I was lucky enough to get followers what was I going to discuss to keep them following? Honestly, it's all so complicated it sent me into a depressive tailspin once the book was actually published.
But that's what happened when the book was published. Let's go back . . . oh, I don't know, about 16 years. My youngest son was 2 and I was feeling rather cut off from the creative world. Not that bearing and raising children isn't creative. It can be, very much so. But in high school I had acted for four years in a place called The Society Hill Playhouse in downtown Philly. And although I read a lot and had always listened to a wide variety of music, I missed Shakespeare, and the power of words, and using my body as a creative tool.
I knew I didn't want to get back into acting, but I'd always loved writing, and here's the clinker, I'd always had voices in my head. Some of you won't know what that means, but some of you will. And it's as annoying as it sounds. They weren't the type of voices that told me God was angry at gay people or that I had to get a hammer and take it to the Redbox at the local supermarket. But they were demanding, and expressive, and persistent.
So I'm wanting to be creative and I'm reading a lot of sci-fi and fantasy, and urban fantasy/horror, because that's what I'd always loved. And I start feeling like the voices in my head need to tell a tale, they're getting rather itchy and chatty. And so, late one night I open a page in an old version of Word and I write a short story about a support group (I hadn't even started my own therapy yet!) for vampires meeting in a local recreation center. I showed it to my brother's girlfriend, who was an English major, and she liked it. It was probably awful, but she was kind and I don't think I cared. I'd finally found an outlet for the talking in my head and I doubt anything could have stopped me.
Then one night I allowed other voices to come forward and I wrote the first paragraph to Love and War — and Eternally Damning Prophecies; under the working title "Extremely Lucky." In my head it was a short story, but as it turns out I don't do 'short' very well.
The first pages completed was the beginning of chapter eight or nine; it was Romeo and Dru looking for something in the woods and discussing the sexually ambiguous undertones to Alice in Wonderland. And the experience was so freeing and liberating and wonderful that I couldn't stop. Writing didn't make the voices go away, but it calmed them. Made them coherent and legible in a way they weren't before.
After that I would stay up late and wake up early to write. I would write every time I was alone, and every time my husband took the kids somewhere. I'd read about other writers and their work ethic, and how they got published, and read the books my favorite author's read. I started telling people I was writing a book, and they would ask me about it, and I was embarrassed and happy at the same time.
I gave the first draft of the book to my best friend, my cousin and my husband. I think it was probably awful as first drafts can sometimes be, but they enjoyed it and saw merit and were proud of me. And their enthusiastic reinforcement helped keep me going. It wasn't just the positive comments though. It was like I said, all the voices had relaxed. They waiting patiently while still being eager to be heard.
Okay, that's the first part in writing and publishing Love and War —and Eternally Damning Prophecies. More to come . . . soon!!
— River
First, I started this blog because my book was being published and I was told I needed a website, a Facebook page, a Twitter page, and a blog. And if I could do more I should do more. Turns out there are only about 16-17 working hours in a day, and I couldn't do much more. I was never told what to put on the blog or website or FB page or Twitter, and to everyone offering the advice that query was irrelevant. But to me it was most relevant. What in the world was I going to say to people each week or each month even? How as I going to get followers? And if I was lucky enough to get followers what was I going to discuss to keep them following? Honestly, it's all so complicated it sent me into a depressive tailspin once the book was actually published.
But that's what happened when the book was published. Let's go back . . . oh, I don't know, about 16 years. My youngest son was 2 and I was feeling rather cut off from the creative world. Not that bearing and raising children isn't creative. It can be, very much so. But in high school I had acted for four years in a place called The Society Hill Playhouse in downtown Philly. And although I read a lot and had always listened to a wide variety of music, I missed Shakespeare, and the power of words, and using my body as a creative tool.
I knew I didn't want to get back into acting, but I'd always loved writing, and here's the clinker, I'd always had voices in my head. Some of you won't know what that means, but some of you will. And it's as annoying as it sounds. They weren't the type of voices that told me God was angry at gay people or that I had to get a hammer and take it to the Redbox at the local supermarket. But they were demanding, and expressive, and persistent.
So I'm wanting to be creative and I'm reading a lot of sci-fi and fantasy, and urban fantasy/horror, because that's what I'd always loved. And I start feeling like the voices in my head need to tell a tale, they're getting rather itchy and chatty. And so, late one night I open a page in an old version of Word and I write a short story about a support group (I hadn't even started my own therapy yet!) for vampires meeting in a local recreation center. I showed it to my brother's girlfriend, who was an English major, and she liked it. It was probably awful, but she was kind and I don't think I cared. I'd finally found an outlet for the talking in my head and I doubt anything could have stopped me.
Then one night I allowed other voices to come forward and I wrote the first paragraph to Love and War — and Eternally Damning Prophecies; under the working title "Extremely Lucky." In my head it was a short story, but as it turns out I don't do 'short' very well.
The first pages completed was the beginning of chapter eight or nine; it was Romeo and Dru looking for something in the woods and discussing the sexually ambiguous undertones to Alice in Wonderland. And the experience was so freeing and liberating and wonderful that I couldn't stop. Writing didn't make the voices go away, but it calmed them. Made them coherent and legible in a way they weren't before.
After that I would stay up late and wake up early to write. I would write every time I was alone, and every time my husband took the kids somewhere. I'd read about other writers and their work ethic, and how they got published, and read the books my favorite author's read. I started telling people I was writing a book, and they would ask me about it, and I was embarrassed and happy at the same time.
I gave the first draft of the book to my best friend, my cousin and my husband. I think it was probably awful as first drafts can sometimes be, but they enjoyed it and saw merit and were proud of me. And their enthusiastic reinforcement helped keep me going. It wasn't just the positive comments though. It was like I said, all the voices had relaxed. They waiting patiently while still being eager to be heard.
Okay, that's the first part in writing and publishing Love and War —and Eternally Damning Prophecies. More to come . . . soon!!
— River
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