On the Horns of a Dilemma

 

You’ve heard of being on the horns of a dilemma—big rascal that he is. Not a good place to be. 

 

I was conflicted about the lady in the Assisted Living Apartment who I felt was being mistreated. (I wrote about it in my other blog, https://www.wishonwhitehorses.com) What to do? I was upset regarding her treatment. How much will I get the caretaker in trouble? I know people don’t act for those reasons. 

 

And then another dilemma. A publisher contacted me, saying they wanted to talk to me. I had submitted a manuscript to Europe Books because someone pointed out that they were taking submissions for a specific time frame where I fit. What the heck, I submitted a book based on ancient mythology that I thought might appeal to a European audience. I forgot about it until I got the email. 

 

The editor and I Zoomed for 40 minutes while this beautiful young Italian woman spieled off what she liked about my book. I was impressed that she had read it. She knew the names of my characters and named various scenes she particularly liked. She told me that it would be distributed in Italy, German, Portugal, and England. It would be taken to several book Fairs, submitted for awards, etc., etc. With my permission, she was going to present it to the deciding publishing group. 

 

The following day I received a contract.

 

All the things they were going to do for me, it sounded awesome.

 

The trouble was I had to purchase 200 books at retail price.

 

The books would sell for 14.90 GBP (British Sterling). That is $20.47. Total would be 2,980 GBP $4,094.81. 

 

If my book sells 500 copies, I will get that money back. 

 

I sat with it for a day. I thought, well, if you have a book professionally edited and with cover art, it would be that expensive. Two hundred books sitting in my garage? The chances of selling 200 books at $20.47 plus shipping is about like filling a colander with water to save it.

 

In publishing, a rule of thumb is, money should roll toward the author, not the other way around.

 

Thanks, but no thanks.

Write The Music You Need to Hear

 

“Write the music your inside you needs your outside you to hear.”

--Eric Whitacre

I figure most of you are here because you are either a writer (Isn’t everybody?) or want to be one.

 

The plethora of bloggers online tells me that people want to write and want to be heard (Read). Yeah, me, included. 

 

We want our lives to mean something, and we want to contribute something.

 

Although sometimes we need to write because we need to hear what we have to say. (Perhaps that ought to be private.)

 

I don’t know if you’ve heard me speak of Morning Pages (Julia Cameron’s term). In her book, The Artist’s Way, Cameron describes morning pages as that writing we do before doing the real work. It is clearing away the static so we can hear the music.

 

You know, sometimes you write something, and in reading it, later on, you wonder who wrote it. Sometimes you’re proud of it, sometimes you embarrass yourself.

 

Shit happens.

 

I’ve heard that there are only three rules for writing.

 

Unfortunately, nobody knows what they are.

 

So, there you have it, folks. Make your own rules. Write your little hearts out. It will make you a better writer and a better person. 

 

Readers do expect something, though, and they have a right to find it. People are attuned to a story, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. Follow the Hero’s Journey, and it will stand you in good stead. I think the concept of the hero’s journey began long ago when a storyteller stood at the campfire with the people eager for entertainment. The hunter who brought home the bacon would get attention, but the one who embellished the story got more. The one who died on the hunt was popular, too, for he met a consequence that didn’t bring home the bacon. The trouble was, someone else had to tell the story for him. That’s where you need a great obituary writer. Gosh, when I think about it, most obituaries I’ve heard were boring. Now, that doesn’t do the person justice. They’ve had a life. They loved, wept, had children, hardships, victories. (Born somewhere, educated somewhere, married, survived by.) I’m feeling sad for them.

 

People want to hear how the hero/heroine got kicked out of Paradise and had to find herself in the world. He/she had to endure hardships, and the stakes were high, the consequences extreme. He/she would, hopefully, come home victorious and bring honor to the tribe.

 

This morning, I searched the internet for an eye doctor, and I noticed that I was drawn to the ones that wrote a bit about themselves. I guess I ought to write something about myself on my blogs. I always figured reading whatever I wrote would tell my reader about me. Still, truthfully, I didn’t know how to sell myself without sounding like a moron.