Chapter 75.1: All Right, Already!

I swear, ever since my birthday I've had odd little reminders that it's time for me to seriously pursue my intended career writing fiction. There's the aforementioned receipt of an Irish-American encyclopedia that includes three pieces I wrote. Then there were other reminders that popped up about an editor I've worked with in the past and a profile subject who contacted me about her upcoming book signing.

The writer, who I'll interview this weekend, writes historical fiction set during the American Revolution. I've interviewed her before and she's been a wonderful resource for marketing materials that I might use as a template for my own novels. More importantly, she loves the era she writes about and there's nothing better than interviewing people who really has a passion for what they do.

Then I ended up sitting on the train next to a lawyer who's written a novel and is working on his second and is also shopping a screenplay that he wrote with his brother. He and I chatted a bit about finding agents [he has one that he found via a client], our mutual love of writing and our particular ways of writing -- he compiles entire folders, like case briefs, of characters, for example -- as his client [who looked guilty to me] listened inattentively.

But my point is that I feel like there's been an element of divine intervention involved in the scant days since my birthday: a reminder that the window of opportunity for my becoming a published novelist of not just one but several books is starting to close. Intuitively, I know that it doesn't happen without my putting the time in. I've written the book. People have read it, enjoyed it, and suggested ways to make it better. I've made lots of edits to improve it. It's almost ready. But I need to start shopping it around. Soon.

I'm reminded of that joke about the guy who's drowning and several boats come by and offer help, but the guy keeps saying: "No, God will save me." I think I've gotten the message.

Chapter 72.3: Even More Competition

This story from the Los Angeles Times made me wince. It hadn't occurred to me that in addition to the writers' strike consigning us all to a springtime of reality shows sprouting up like weeds, it will also pose a new challenge to authors (like myself) hoping to break into the ranks of the publishing world.

Those people who are able to spin teleplays to us over the TV screens are looking for something else to fill their time as the strike continues. So they've turned back to the novels they said they'd write "eventually." Well, Eventually has arrived, and these people should have the discipline to actually finish their work, unlike the people like me who have strong drafts that need a little tweaking but who put that off to do things like attend a Burns Supper on a Saturday night and recover the next morning (to read, mostly).

Ok, that's not so bad. People have to enjoy life in order to write well about it. And I'm not truly threatened by the "increased" competition that's out there, primarily because the industry is so difficult to get into any way that these other writers don't really scare me. What's another hundred zombies (ick) when you're already up against ten thousand?

So bring it on, writers' strike! Challenge me! Challenge us all. As long as we all get some good books out of it, I say: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the competition, I will fear no evil.