Writing Wrongs

April 27, 2005

The other day, Jenn asked where she might find my books. That�s the thing. The only place to find them is on my hard drive. And a backup CD-R. And a couple of other just-in-case storage places.

But not on the shelves. Although I think D. may have a printed copy of False Impressions somewhere (and really, D., you should burn that).

Lately, this bothers me less and less. I�ve seen many of my friends scale the publication wall. I�ve seen more than I care to slam into that wall and not recover. Publication doesn�t really solve any problems, you just inherit new ones to go along with the old �how do I get words on the page and have them make sense� set of problems.

I�m happy where I am right now and have come to accept my apprenticeship may be a long one. Actually, it may be without end. (Okay, true, I have published short stories and magazine articles, but no books.) Still, I feel as though I�ve crossed that hurdle, the one where:

Published = chosen one
Unpublished = I suck pond scum

I don�t believe it anymore. I�ve seen too many good books (and no, I�m not talking about my own) get passed over, inexplicably. I know that simply changing all my �to be� verbs in my copy will not guarantee publication. I know that following a set of �rules� won�t either.

A lot of it has to do with craft, and studying craft. That I don�t deny. And one thing about not being published is I have the luxury of exploring both craft and genres. I have time, and plenty of it.

And that�s kind of cool. I don�t know if I would have rediscovered my love of young adult fiction if not for time. I�m not sure I would have attempted The Boys� Club (coming along nicely, at least in quantity of words, that is).

I know it�s hard for some people to understand why you�d stick with something for so long (eight years so far, thank you) without major results. But then, I don�t understand why some people crochet afghans. Granted, an afghan can keep you warm and you could sell it on eBay, but still . . . a four hundred page manuscript could come in handy. Think kindling. Or fish wrap. (Do people still wrap fish?)

It took a while for me to reach this place, the one where I�m happy doing what I�m doing, where I don�t measure myself against other people�s successes. Would a book contract be nice? Sure. Do I need one to be happy? No.

In the meantime, I�ll keep writing. But remember, if you ever need to start a bonfire . . . you know who to call.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 10:54 a.m.

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