Romancing the Blog | Romance Authors and Readers Who Blog

The idea for this column came a few days ago when I had a doctor’s appointment and looked at the book I planned to take with me. The cover showed a close up of a shirtless man wearing a sword belt diagonally across his chest. Not too bad, I thought as I realized I would be reading it in the waiting room. It brought to mind an obvious topic: the joys and woes of romance covers.

I’ve been reading romances for more than 15 years. The book I took to the doctor’s office isn’t the first book I’ve carried around with a cover featuring shirtless men wearing kilts or armor. I usually have no problem taking books to work or on errands. I don’t mind people seeing the cover of the book I’m reading. I don’t use paper, fabric, or leather book covers to hide a book’s cover art.

But every now and then, I see a book and can’t help but think, Geez. This cover is ridiculous.

Why are so many romance covers lurid or showing people in awkward poses? When I see a cover with a man kneeling on one knee and a woman balanced precariously on his leg, writhing in apparent passion (or pain), I don’t think, There must be a lovely romance inside. I think, Ouch. That’s gotta hurt.

I read somewhere that books with lurid couple covers sell better than those without them, but I’m not sure how this conclusion was reached. I’d like to see a test where the same book is offered with two covers, one featuring a torrid couple clinch and the other with different art—or at least a couple that’s not . . . well, coupling.

Coupleless covers can be interesting. Many terrific covers feature the hero, the heroine, a landscape, flowers, cartoons, and more. Stepback covers are also nice. I’d love it if more books had covers like these. I’ve seen some amazing covers lately. But there are still some covers that make me cringe.

I’m not suggesting a ban on couple covers. I’m actually partial to a good couple cover. But it would be nice if the people were wearing realistic clothing. Is a warrior really going to wear a sword belt across his chest without wearing a shirt underneath it? Setting aside the fact that a bare chest would have no protection in battle (and that’s a lot to set aside), I think the belt would chafe a bit. But maybe that’s just me.

Let’s have more realistic poses, too. Bring on the couples who don’t make me (1) wonder if the characters are trapeze artists, or (2) hope they have medical insurance. Perhaps cover artists could test a pose beforehand by doing it themselves for 10 minutes to see how comfortable it is.

Since I’m discussing my wishes, could the people on the cover have the same hair color, eye color, and build as the main characters? I recently read a book where the hero had black hair, not the dark blond hair shown on the cover. And it’s kind of irritating to read about a lush heroine when the cover model could be mistaken for a stick figure.

People say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. To some extent, I agree. In the end, the story is what really counts. I buy books written by auto-buy authors no matter what the cover looks like. But some covers make it all too easy to be judgmental. Romance has come a long way since I started reading it more than 15 years ago. It’s time for romance covers to do the same.

In 1996, only months after leaving a lucrative career behind to launch my own literary agency, I wandered into a movie theater with my stepsister. The film was one I knew nothing about, but we purchased tickets because unlike the other movies playing that day, it hadn’t sold out. So I flopped down in my seat and tried to relax, while in the background of my mind numerous anxieties needled at me. You know, basic entrepreneurial territory for a new business owner: fears about paying the bills, somehow finding good clients, and making my fledgling business work. As I munched on my popcorn and sipped my Diet Coke, I had no idea that what would appear on the screen would turn out to be a very serendipitous thing—the voice of… an agent. Suddenly, with Jerry Maguire, all my fearful struggling and heartfelt dreaming had been given a voice, and with it, Jerry Maguire became my rock n’ roll idol.

After all, consider some of these nuggets of wisdom a la Jerry:

“Fewer clients, more personal attention.”

(To Rod Tidwell, after he’s prostrated himself before the other side in a negotiation) “What I suffered was an up at dawn pride shattering siege that I will never fully tell you about….”

“Show me the money!” (Not an expression of Jerry’s own philosophy, but rather of his determined willingness to grovel, if necessary, to keep his client from leaving.)

Oh, yes, Jerry issued many priceless quotes on his journey toward complete manhood, and in the end, we all loved cheering him on as he became a better person. But against the backdrop of Jerry’s nascent goodness there was certainly a much more shadowy and duplicitous figure—Bob Sugar, his arch-nemesis. From Bob’s firing of Jerry (his own mentor, by the way) in a public restaurant, to his rushing back to the office in order to nail down all of Jerry’s clients, Bob Sugar embodied the stereotypical cutthroat, heartless agent. And therein is the problem: the film’s depiction of the vile-hearted Bob Sugar does not exist in a vacuum. The fact is that most media portrayals of agents depict them as greedy, sleazy, backstabbing scum; a cabal of people-users willing to run over their own mothers for a buck. Just a few Hollywood depictions come to mind: Entourage, Sunset Boulevard, Phone Booth, The Big Picture, Spinal Tap.

About now you’re thinking, “Wait?! Is Deidre Knight about to issue an appeal for revisionist touchy-feely agent portrayals in Hollywood?” Not at all. But I do wonder if these negative and stereotypical portrayals don’t influence the way authors perceive me and my compatriots. Although the heartless, scumbag agent is a stock character from central casting, how can it not impact perceptions and influence attitudes? How can it not breed an atmosphere of mistrust?

A group of agent friends and I have been discussing this very issue, and consequently we’ve shared some of our war stories, since all of us have our own lowest agenting moment to recall—much as authors have their own low moments to share. For me, probably my worst agenting moment came a few years ago when I was pregnant with my second child, a very high risk pregnancy. I sent a note to my entire client roster, letting them know of my plan to keep things running, giving full disclosure. Well, almost immediately upon receipt one of my authors hit reply—not even changing the subject line, mind you—and fired me. Others have had similar experiences of authors choosing inopportune moments to fire them or to raise a big complaint. I had a client who called her publisher on 9/11 to complain that she’d not received her author copies—and spoke sharply and insensitively to her editorial staff.

Also, many readers of my own blog are surprised to realize that I receive hate mail almost every week. Yes, that’s right: hate mail. This year I had to call the police out in Iowa and have them investigate one woman—a true Jesus Freak (she thought she WAS him) after she issued a death threat against me. And there are the people who write back diatribes about agents in general, and how greedy and evil the lot of us are. Or maybe it’s personally directed, as in, “You have no taste, Ms. Knight. I’m amazed you’ve ever sold anyone’s book!”

I suppose the final answer is that there are always going to be self-centered, thoughtless people. But I wonder if actions like the ones I’ve described might come more easily if you believe the person on the receiving end has no heart. If you’ve been steeped in numerous cultural images of an agent as someone who does nothing but walk over people to get what they want. It’s something to think about.

The truth of the matter is that most agents are truly authors’ advocates, and they take that role very seriously. They find it rewarding to protect authors or would-be authors from the rugged and unforgiving terrain of the publishing world. They love what they do—they thrive on it—and they’re tough as nails in negotiations. But they aren’t without feelings or a heart, despite how they’re so often portrayed in all forms of the media.

So, I’m not sure there’s any particular conclusion to be reached here. Except to remember that although we may have to reject an author, or may not love a concept—or may even fail at placing a work—we are still the greatest advocates writers will have or can ever have. Editors come and go, and their loyalty is by necessity to the publishers who employ them, but it’s the countless Jerry Maguires who battle it out on behalf of writers everywhere.

This issue has been touched on here and on other blogs, but I thought I’d throw in my two cents. The issue? Do authors back away from making their romances too realistic? Previously, it’s been discussed that topics will be brought up (such as child abuse, etc) and then miraculously glossed over. So the question is where is the line?

Two books come to mind as examples of either copping out on the character development or copping out on the ramifications of the actions within the book. Both books are excellent. But each has a portion that drives me insane.

The first book is really more of a historical mystery than a romance, but the author is a romance author and the book has much of the elements of a romance. In it, something quite horrific happens to the young son of the main characters. Now I’ve seen on other boards, this aspect debated as to whether or not it should have been included. My feelings are just the opposite. I often read forensic mysteries so I don’t gross out easily. Once the child was out of jeopardy, everything is fine. He is psychologically fine with the slight disability he was left with; he suffered no health problems that such an injury would likely cause in the early 1800’s. Once the dramatic moment is over, everything is once again fine. And this is a minor point in an excellent book.

The next book has a more worrisome problem for me. In it, a very popular romance author sets up a duke who is emotionally closed off. He discovers he is dying and goes off on his own. In his journey, he discovers love. It is a beautiful book, very poignant. The author handles very well how to save the hero from impending death—this is a given that the hero will live. But in the last chapter, everything, I mean everything is wrapped up in beautiful sparkly paper with a gorgeous bow on it. Right down to the actress heroine he loves turning out to be the long lost granddaughter of nobility and of proper lineage to be a duchess. Everything is so dang perfect I expected Disney forest characters to start dancing across the page! I recommend the book to friends with a warning not to read the last chapter.

A friend of mine who is currently marketing her first book has a partial. On the first page she mentions maggots (as a medical device). She has another friend who is a published author (I mean a major published author who takes lots of risks). The published one continues to tell her she can’t have maggots on the first page of a romance.

So the question of the day is why don’t authors always take the actions to the full consequences? Are they concerned that the reader will not accept it (to steal from my friend’s blog—“are romance readers wimps?”)? Or do they often become so enraptured with their characters they want everything to turn out perfectly for them?

JOURNAL OF A NEWLY PUBLISHED AUTHOR

September 20, 2005

I’m just on the verge of officially becoming a published author. My first book, CAPTURE THE SUNRISE, debuts in November 2005. I’m excited, scared and exhilarated with anticipation and dread. In the almost two years since receiving THE CALL and signing my first contract, I’ve discovered that I love writing even more…but I also hate it! An antithesis…but one that describes my love-hate relationship with this gift of imagination that has totally taken over my life.

There are so many things I love about the writing process. I love creating intricate plots in which complex realistic characters not only discovery who they are, but also find true love in the process. I not only write stories in hope that my readers can escape for a few precious hours from the pressures and frustrations of the modern world we live in, but I write stories that contains some important message about hope and love.

Like most of you who write for and read ROMANCING THE BLOG, reading and writing are an essential part of my life. For some, it’s a hobby; for others, it’s a career that can consume every waking hour and linger in dreams at night.

BUT…

I also hate writing. I hate the hours of television I miss, I hate the freedom to get up and got to a movie, I hate deadlines and revisions, but most of all I hate the times when a story refuses to flow freely from this often fickle creative mind I’m supposed to possess.

How is it that the same story I’d planned and started with such anticipation is now a laborious task way pass deadline!!!!

I’m new to the crazy world of the published author and the journey from THE CALLl to bookshelf has been an interesting and rewarding one. I’ve heard that the second book is always one of the most difficult to write. I’m going to confess that this one has been difficult. A few weeks ago, I even reached the stage when I believed that I may just be a one book wonder, but I know my creative juices are still flowing since I’ve already completed outlines for my third and fourth books. And the voices have started to tell their story. I can feel that familiar excitement and quickening of my heartbeat. I have more stories to tell!

Yesterday, a close friend gave me some good advice. She told me to put the story away for a few days and then got back to it.

I took her advice. For three whole days I didn’t write

September 25, 2005

Today, I turned on my computer, open a copy of my current WIP, and finally started to work again. The time away from my writing has helped. I’m all excited again and ready to put my finger on the keyboard.

Writing is a complex process. English poet, John Keats once said that writing poetry should come as naturally as leaves to a tree. Some interpret this to mean that Keats found the process of writing easy. However, those who’ve read Keats’ letters on the writing process would know that the process for him was never an easy one.

The true writer possesses an imagination that I can only call fanciful. We are indeed special people. The elements of our stories often come to us in the craziest ways, a process we often don’t have control over…and that’s the easy part. Characters come to us in our dream, while we’re walking on the streets, while in the shower, in the middle of teaching a class on Elizabethan theatre, but they come. It’s the process of moving these images and ideas from our over-active creative storehouse that is often the most difficult part of our craft.

Do I love writing?
Yes!
Do I hate writing?
Yes!

But until the voices in my heard and the images I see in my mind’s eyes stop finding their way there, I can NEVER give it up!

We at RTB would like to call your attention to “Open Blog Night”. Because we’ve enjoyed our special guests so much, we’ve issued an open invitation for columns. You don’t need a blog, or even a website. If you’d like to write a column for RTB, please go here for more information. Thank you.

by Yolanda Sfetsos

There was a time when I considered myself (exclusively) a horror writer. Maybe even dark fantasy or suspense could be my genre. Somehow, with every tale, whether short or long, darkness managed to seep into the storyline. Surely that placed me in the horror department, right? Yet, when I started writing full length novels – after successfully completing a lot of short stories and even winning some online contests – everything changed.

Something clicked.

Just as my reading started to extend into what was fast becoming known as paranormal romance, I started to realise that my writing could easily fall under this particular category. I mean, there were vampires (always vampires!) and werewolves and demons, plus an assortment of other creatures starring in the stories I was unleashing on the page. And there was always a love interest… amongst all the other mechanics associated with the characters sweeping out of my mind and the plots they found themselves captured into, I always had a heroine and a hero.

An unusual love when the dark situation occurring around them was throwing obstacles in their way.

I sincerely hope that the interest in paranormal romance continues for many years to come. Not just because I wish to seek publication in this genre someday, but also because I enjoy reading them so much.

Who would’ve thought that werewolves, demons and dragons could be sexy?

The rise of authors like CT Adams and Cathy Clamp, Katie MacAlister, MaryJanice Davidson, Kelley Armstrong, Kim Harrison, Lori Handeland, Rachel Caine, Charlaine Harris and the always appreciated Laurel K Hamilton, have managed to tear through the walls of what romance was moulded into thirty or forty years ago. Not only to establish otherworldly creatures as protagonists, which reflect so much about our own fears, paranoias, ambitions and psyche. But also the evolution of what a woman in the 21st century has become and how her interests have shifted.

Though we’re not all facing the decision of whether to keep that hunky vampire in our lives, or worried about the werewolf trying to seduce us during the next full moon – we’ve all got flaws, capacity for love and a life we like to live to the fullest.

So, I’d just like to thank the above authors and the many others I’ve failed to mention or still haven’t discovered. Thanks for making reading so much fun and keeping the inspiration alive in the passion for writing that lives inside me. There’s nothing more valuable to an aspiring writer than the inspiration keeping the dream of publication alive.

It’s also great for me to finally be able to say out loud: “I’m a romance writer!” without an air of embarrassment in the admission. In what I hope has become a new path, not just a trend, beneficial to me as both a reader and a writer!

*For information on how you can submit to Open Blog Night, click here

People sometimes ask me how I went from a Master’s program in Art History to selling commercial fiction. To them it seems like a big jump from academia to romance novels. But it never seemed that way to me. My focus is still the same: the power people have to tell stories in words and images.

And to me if these stories are commercial, if they’re popular, if they are what’s pejoratively called “low culture,” that really means they’re successful. They’ve reached their audience, they’ve touched someone’s life. Whether told in stained glass or in the pages of a Harlequin Romance, stories have the power to move us, to shape our lives and to give us hope. Shakespeare wrote for the groundlings and Dickens was paid by the word. A book that keeps hundreds of readers up nights turning its pages is a book that’s succeeded on every level. Popular isn’t a dirty word.

There’s a reason I was never much one for modern art. I enjoy art, visual and written, that lacks pretensions. Art that has value beyond its status as art; in other words anything but art-for-art’s-sake. A convoluted “literary” novel may have been written by the most intelligent person on the planet, but it’s not going to hold my interest. I just want someone to tell me a story, a really good story.

I think rather than being ashamed, as a lot of people who have never read a romance expect us to be, those who write, sell and enjoy romance should be proud. These are compelling stories, stories that deal with universal drives, with the much cherished pursuit of happiness. With all the best and brightest things that make us human. Plus, they’ve got sex scenes. You gotta love that.

I was, at one point in my unlamented academic career, writing a paper on Spenser’s Faerie Queene, a long and lovely allegorical poem. C. S. Lewis wrote a wonderful monograph on it, which he prefaced by saying he hoped this wasn’t the first time you were reading the Faerie Queene. He hoped you read it first on holiday on a riverbank under a tree. And even then he hoped it had reminded you of other stories you’d read in the nursery. I wanted to use Lewis in my paper, but was told I couldn’t because his scholarship was out of date. Obsolete in this post-modern, deconstructionist world. And yet, I’m confident his THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE will never be out of date. Like Lewis I believe that the greatest works of literature are the ones we experience, rather than merely read.

Similarly, I once had a professor (who was actually at Oxford with J. R. R. Tolkien) tell me just how ridiculous Tolkien was considered for taking time away from his serious academic work in order to write “children’s stories.” But tell me, which work is he remembered for? Any story that has the power to capture our imagination, to take us into a world of happily ever after, will live on in one way or another, whether it’s on the shelves for a lifetime or a month.

Stories, the ones that grab our heartstrings as well as our minds, are eternal. So tell me a story, and make it a good one.

1. I am always entertained.

If I’m in a queue somewhere, or in a waiting room, or stuck in traffic, I always have an imaginary world to think about. Even better, I always have a hot imaginary man to think about who will (usually) do exactly what I want him to do. My characters amuse me hugely. Even when they’re in horrible pain. And when they stop amusing me, I make them go away for a little while. Try doing that with relatives.

2. I get to buy whatever book I want.

All the time. And read them anywhere. Erotica, Shakespeare, a magazine about tattoos—it’s all research, baby.

3. I write to please.

When I’m writing category romance I know my reader wants a heroine to identify with, a hero to fall in love with, an emotional story with an upbeat tone, great sex, and a feelgood ending. I know she wants to be cheered up by my story, she wants to be swept away and escape for awhile, she wants to find a new world and people she likes to be with. I write to give other women pleasure. I love that idea.

4. The RNA and RWA conferences.

They are such a hoot. And I love Rita night. Thousands of women looking fantastic, and all the men’s toilets are converted to women’s. How cool is that?

5. People assume I am really good at sex.

I know this drives some authors crazy, the stereotype that romances are steamy and therefore that romance authors have dirty minds. But you know what? I love it. People look at my husband with surreptitious respect. People are not surprised when I mention the word “vibrator” in mixed company or am filmed for national TV saying “cunnilingus” (this actually happened). People see a smile on my face and they assume I have a very, very interesting life.

6. I can spend hours debating a single sentence with myself.

And there is nothing more pleasurable for a perfectionist than nitpicking. Some things in life will never be perfect: my skin, my job, my car (well, my car is nearly perfect) my schedule, my perpetually dirty floors…but sometimes I can make a sentence do what it has to do perfectly. It’s so rewarding.

7. I am so, so in love with the English language.

We’ve got the unabridged Oxford English Dictionary online at the school I teach at. Every visit is like dallying with a fascinating lover who has a million tricks up his sleeve. Etymology, usage, history, new additions…give it all to me, sugar. The English language is one of humankind’s most extraordinary inventions and you know what? I’m a pro at using it. Wow!

8. There are times when everything you put down on the page is absolutely correct.

Not many. But man, when they happen, it’s better than anything else, even some of the stuff I talked about in number 5.

9. I can see myself learning.

With every word, every story, I learn something. There aren’t many other areas of life that are so challenging and frustrating and wonderful. But when I look back on my earlier drafts, I realize how far I’ve come. And I hope that in a few years’ time I’ll look back at what I’m writing now and realize the same thing.

What’s your number 10?

Because I’ve got my back to the deadline wall, have to write a welcome speech for a writers’ conference, and am suffering from yet another allergy attack from hell, I’m going to take the easy way out of doing a column, and declare this Katie’s Official Romance Questionnaire Day.

Answers are not mandatory, but as an avid romance reader (we won’t go into overworked writer), I’m curious to see other people’s takes on romantic fiction. Answers to be in essay form, and show your work. You have one hour beginning…NOW!

Question 1: What romance, if any, can you quote passages from?

Question 2: What subjects/treatments/pet peeves make you angry?

Question 3: What level of sensuality are you comfortable with?

Question 4: If you were pregnant with the missing amnesiac cowboy sheikh’s twin’s secret baby, would you sign yourself up in the nearest mail order bride program?

Question 5: What ethnicities do you think are under represented in romances?

Question 6: Have you ever had to defend your reading choices?

Question 7: What’s your guilty secret pleasure read?

Question 8: What’s the last romance that made you cry?

Bonus Point Question: Of all the romances you’ve read, which fictional hero would you most want to lay claim to?

Recently a reader and aspiring author asked me, “Do you feel successful?” She went on to say that, having just finished the first draft of her very first novel, the fact that I’ve sold more than fifty books blew her away. From her point of view, I am extremely successful. Successful in a way that she can’t even wrap her mind around.

But she was curious–how did I feel about my accomplishments? Did I feel like I’d reached my life goals? Was I living my dream? Was I happy?

I guess the short answer is, it depends on what day you ask me.

Some days, I recognize that I really am living my dream. I earn a living from my writing. Not an extravagant one, but a comfortable one. I’ve been publishing consistently for many years, and I’ve gotten the chance to write books that were important to me, exploring issues and characters that interested me. When I get a glowing review or a heartfelt letter from a reader, I know I’m doing what I set out to do, and I feel really lucky and, dare I say it? Blessed. If that’s not success, I don’t know what is.

Then there are those other days …

Like when I get assigned a new editor because my old one got promoted and she’s too important to bother with me now. (Okay, I know that’s not exactly the true case, but that’s how it feels.) Or when the publication of my next book gets delayed yet again because my book is set in Texas and some other author–one more famous than me–has a book out set in Texas that month.

And when my most recent proposal has been sitting on my editor’s desk for months, and she doesn’t return my call.

And when I get three rejections in one day. Two are from editors who don’t even want to read my book. And one of them misspells my name.

And I meet a nice person at a booksigning, a person who is obviously an avid romance reader, who looks at me blankly and says, “Is this your first book?” when it’s, like, my thirtieth.

Then I start to wonder–Just what the hell am I? Chopped liver? And I come to the conclusion that yes, indeed, I am chopped liver. I don’t matter. I could stop writing tomorrow, and probably no one would notice. Those are the days when I contemplate a meaningful career in the food service industry.

I’ve accepted the fact that my life is a blend of “successful” days and “chopped liver” days, and I will never feel one-hundred-percent successful 24/7, no matter how many books I sell or how high my advances go. I imagine Nora Roberts has a bad day now and then, when she wonders if she’s chopped liver.

So do I feel successful? Moderately so, though I see much room for improvement. Am I happy? Yeah, most of the time.

I try to explain all this to the aspiring author, but I’m not sure she gets it. I can see it in her eyes. She believes a career in publishing–maybe even selling just one book–will solve all her problems and make her deliriously happy, and she wants me to validate that belief. Not that selling a book or lots of books isn’t a very nice thing. But “success,” I’ve discovered, is mostly something that comes from inside.

So, do you feel successful? If not, what would it take to make you feel that way?

My father sold Herbalife.

I could go into the personal scars this has left behind–thanks to an overheated room, I know what it smells like when you have exploding vitamins and please, never offer me Vitamin B of any kind. It’s EVIL–, but I’ll save you the nightmares. He’s tried to sell a lot of things in his time. None of them really took off with the high return value he expected. Not a single, solitary one.

But that’s my Dad. He has always had pie-in-the-sky pipe dreams of making it big, preferably while doing as little as possible. Not that he’s lazy, but it’s a dream after all. If he had bookshelves, they’d be full to falling of business books about either getting rich quick or learning how to make the most of opportunities and government money. And, thanks to all that reading, he’s practically an encyclopedia on fiscal topics of all kinds. To mention one is to invite hours of discussion on how-tos, how-nots and believe me, there’s no how-to-escape.

I love my father, but growing up with his eternally unrealized dreams–which were always big–gave me a very practical bent. My family’s lack of any but emotional riches made me completely pragmatic. I’m a stick. I’m cheap and not likely to be parted from my money without a court order or acts of violence.

At the end of this month, I will celebrate what I’ve come to call my “writing” anniversary, the time of year when I began writing with publication as a goal, and with that in mind, I’ve been taking stock like I do every year and came to the conclusion that I’m more like my Dad than I realized; I have pipe dreams.

Aren’t I dreaming big–phenomenally huge, actually–by hoping to have a writing career? Throwing good money after “bad” for eight years, spending on submissions and supplies for a career that isn’t going anywhere that I can measure to anyone outside the field? Aren’t my bookshelves overflowing with “research” that I read and discuss incessantly? Have I been the pot calling the kettle black? Should I start harping on myself–as I long ago quit harping on my Dad–to find something more realistic to dream about?

I recently began a list with my CP of the things that we as writers need to remember to have a “complete” romance. Elements of Romance that should be in most every book–not a formula, but a list of craft skills we should master. It’s depressingly huge. And I’m not even remembering everything. Add to that, though I’m not published, I find myself answering questions and even writing articles on how to approach or handle some of these elements in our writing. This has much to do with the fact that I actually enjoy discussing craft, sicko that I am. I’m a veritable Craft Pimp. Ask anyone. It’s difficult to shut me up once I get rolling.

And I fear I’ve become just like the old man. The really shocking realization is that I’m not considering that a bad thing. I think a lot of us are like my Dad.

We have pipe dreams and about seven-eighths of the time, that’s all they are. A string of failures held together by hope and a desire to see the best in the worst of rejections. We all consider quitting. Every year around this time, I start fingering old manuscripts and wondering why I torment myself. I ponder quitting. I get to varying levels of depression. This year was, admittedly, harder than the others to end. But I’m thinking it’s time to put a cap on the misery that I–and probably a lot of you–have been feeling as the years pass by. Just throw out the worry, the fear that my dreams–like my fathers–will remain utterly unrealized.

To that end, I have to take a long hard look at what I’ve been doing and see that however many resemblences I see, writing is not the same kind of dream my father chased. Unlike Dad’s varied machinations and grand plans, it requires a lot of work and daily retooling. I bang my head on my desk if I have to, to get the story right. The work is never ending–and personally rewarding, when I consider how good it feels to finish, knowing it’s good enough to show someone–and riddled with frustration. There is nothing quick or easy about writing for publication. Sure, it might never ever amount to anything financial; I need to be okay with that. In fact, I’m pretty sure I AM okay with that. It makes me happy and satisfies me as a person. How many people can say that about something they do? And mean it?

So, I accept that publishing is my Pipe Dream. It just consists of a pipe I haven’t seen before.

As for my career, I’ll just have to become a plumber. After all, they know that pipes, unlike most things in this world, bend. They change direction and take you places you didn’t know you wanted to go. Who knows where we might end up if we have the right wrench at the right time?

So, I’m beginning Year Eight with a u-pipe and….possibly even a dose of vitamin-b. After all, maybe Dad was onto something.