Still waiting...

It's still November, but only barely. Thanks to all who nominated WINGS OF LIGHT for the Whitney award. It is now officially up for the 2011 books in the General Youth Fiction category.

Some people are waiting for Christmas. Some people are waiting for finals to be over, or for the holiday break. Some people are rushing to get everything done in the next four weeks.

And I'm... feeling very much in limbo. Waiting. Waiting for my TCRG exam results. Waiting to hear from the agent who was kind to me. Waiting to see if good things are on the horizon, or if I'm back to being the same girl I was this time last year.

I have lots of good things in my life, don't get me wrong. It's just that I've been working hard for specific things, and now all I can do is wait to see what happens next.

I know I need to get busy too. And I will. It's not like I'm not busy... I just feel like I'm waiting.

In the meantime, thank you all you wonderful people who have made each day brighter.

November observations

It's been a different kind of November this year. Here's something I learned from my pool of author friends, and it seems to be true. Agents and publishers make decisions around Thanksgiving.

I'm not saying they don't make decisions all year round, but as writers, we sometimes get it in our heads that no one works in November and December. At all. Which simply isn't true.

I just heard from a fellow writer that her manuscript she submitted to a publisher nearly a year ago was accepted the other day. And another author reminded me that he signed with his agent a week before Thanksgiving. And another author recently signed with a big house last week. There are more stories than that, these are just a few.

I've been speculating as to why this is, and all I can come up with is National Novel Writing Month. As writers, we tend to view November as our sit-down-and-write-a-ton month. It's therapeutic- I mean, an excuse to write for hours on end is sort of like unlimited chocolate for a month. And it's professionally helpful- we get a good jump on a novel- or keep writing on that novel we've already started.

So where does that leave the book industry professionals? Good question. Here's where I jump to speculation. I would suggest that there are fewer queries in the month of November than any other month of the year. It's a guess, not a fact, but still something to consider.

And to support my theory of agents and editors having more time in November- I have received a handful of rejections from queries I sent out last April. Why November?

But more exciting by far, I was lucky enough to receive a full editorial letter from an agent with suggestions on how to make my book more marketable. Wow. I can't tell you what an honor that was. Even if she doesn't decide to sign me at the end of the process, I learned a lot. And after spending many hours with the piece, it is better for her efforts. That is priceless.

Of course, my heart nearly flattened when I read a rejection letter this morning- before I realized it wasn't from the same agent. Note to self- always read to the end of the form rejection letter so you know who it's from.

But still, it supports my theory that agents have a little more time in November. Here we are two days before Thanksgiving and I'm getting a rejection from a query sent last April (again). Oh yeah, I should mention that I stopped sending queries after April.

So instead of spending the month immersed in NaNoWriMo- I've done sort of a half and half. Half writing, half editing. And half dancing, half remodeling the front of our house and half housecleaning/laundry. Don't even bother mentioning my fraction skills. I've probably spent half the month helping my older boys with math homework too.

Are you taking November off of querying because you think it's a pointless month? My advice- if you're ready, go for it.

The Impossible Dream

Have you nominated a book for the Whitney Awards? Click on over and do. It's easy, and it's something you can do to encourage authors of your choice.

Yes, Wings of Light is eligible, should you feel inclined to make my day.

I've been thinking about writing goals, and general book industry things. The goal of writing in general has never been something I had stress too much about. I love writing.

It's figuring out how to juggle the industry and what I'm going to focus on there that is a little more ominous.

Do I spend a lot of time promoting the book I have out right now and hope that somehow a few more people discover how awesome my series is? It is awesome. I feel good about the soundness of the Alvor series.

Or do I let the marketing flop have its way and look to the future as I write yet another book and get back on the big house publishing horse?

It's a tough one. I usually lean toward the latter. If there is one thing that is clear in my mind, it's where I want to end up in my writing career. Sure, I'm not there- but the goal is. And I'm stubborn enough to keep working toward that goal. Loyal enough to not sway from what I want. And stupid enough to think that it's possible.

Shrug. I'm a writer.

And the beauty of writing- it has no time limit. I never have to quit.

I guess that's the beauty of life. No matter what it is, we all have the choice to make goals and keep them. To make life worth more because we put more into it.

Maybe you're like me and have such lofty goals/dreams that they seem impossible to catch. It's okay. If you don't know what you want, you'll never get it.

I make imaginary people.

Some have imaginary friends. I make imaginary lives.

Which sounds crazy.

I love it.

You guessed it. I've drunk the writing juice and I'm riding the wave again. I'm in love with my character. Love who she is and what's happening. I don't know how I survived seven months without writing. It's like going without chocolate.

The horror.

But now I'm thinking about my story. Wanting more time with it. Which is why this post is going to be short. I need to get back to writing.

And, note to all you writers out there, bring the cord of your netbook with you when you leave the house. Yes, even the dentist's office has a place to plug in, if you bring the CORD. Darn the dead battery anyway.

Oh, and my poor seven-year-old with an infected tooth that made half his face swell up. He had it pulled today. I was going to let him play a game on my computer before I realized it was dead. He's recovering. He's going to have a black eye from the infection- at least that's what the dentist said.

Sad.

Okay, enough rambing. Back to work!

It was a dark and stormy night...

NaNoWriMo The best excuse out of the whole year to write starts tomorrow. Are you going to do it?

There are contests for people who write the most words. Support groups for people sprinting through a novel in a month.

Me? Uhm, I'm celebrating by actually getting my laptop and flashdrive out of hiding. If I can find my flashdrive. It's been SEVEN months since I last wrote.

I feel like I'm at an AA meeting. My name is Laura Bingham and I haven't worked on a novel for seven months.

Wait, I just found my pink flashdrive. (Why couldn't have been green?)

Now I want to plug it in and see if the story I started is still any good. Maybe I'll start over. It would be the perfect excuse...November starting tomorrow and all.

Then the question is, can I still write?

Yes, the seven month writing diet was painful. Necessary for studying for my TCRG exams, but agonizing all the same. And yes, it turns out this was a successful weight-loss strategy, not that I intended it to be, but as long as we're talking about diets...

But now that the diet is officially over, it's time to see if my brain still knows how to string a story. There's only one way to find out. I can't believe I'm nervous that I might have lost my touch. Maybe I wont' be any good at it any more. Writing might have been one of those flukes.

Even if it was, there's no way I could live without it. Bring on November. I'm ready.

The Day After

Never before have I seen so many worn blue Ar Rinci Foirne books; clutched in front, opened and fervently studied, or sitting hopefully on the exam table before all items were required to be removed from the candidates' tables.

There was no need to present a badges labeling candidates for the October Vancouver TCRG exams. The nervous energy prior to the written exam would have kept any normal human out of the area. All of us standing there as if either impending doom or eternal glory awaited the outcome of what we were about to undertake.

The anxious air was thick.

I'll admit, sweat trickled down my spine.

Then off to the races. Two hours have never gone by so quickly. The intensity of answering each question felt so focused that by the end, I could not even remember what all of the questions were. Each one held my absolute attention and there was no room in my head for any other thoughts.

Then another half hour waiting in the hall for the next test.

My legs shook for a full ten minutes. I don't even know why, except that every ounce of me wanted to pass all of these tests and two hours of sheer focus must have taken its toll.

They played 19 set tunes twice while we wrote down their names, time and bars. This was the easy part of the night. Until I realized that one of my questions had been answered wrong and after scribbling my four different guesses, there was no more room on the space provided for my final answer. Hopefully the panel will have a magnifying glass to read what I wrote.

And then the days to follow were filled with dancing and studying. A little sleep and a quick bite in between, but not much else.

At the end of my last test, my panel leader told me I could go relax and enjoy the rest of my day. I could be happy. She told me I could be happy.

And where I thought I would be instantly filled with a rush of relief, I found that she was right, I did feel happy. Later as I flew over San Fransisco I found another feeling. Deep gratitude. So strong I could not do it justice in words. This is the feeling that has stayed with me since the end of my test.

My brain is still recovering from overdosing it with Irish dancing, but my heart is filled with gratitude. The whole experience taught me more than I could have ever projected. It changed me. And in spite of my flaws and weaknesses, I have no honest regrets. I came and gave what I could, and left with more than I had.

Stolen Inspiration

Read it. Believe it. As far as I can tell, it's all true.

“What nobody tells people who are beginners — and I really wish someone had told this to me . . . is that all of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, and it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase. They quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know it’s normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”