The Dream

Sometimes when I run across a bit of news about authors or the publishing industry that I find interesting, I share it with my husband. I mean, it’s not like we’re overflowing with material for conversation around here. Yesterday was just such a morning. I told him about the comments I’d read over on Bookends regarding royalties. In case you want to read, the eye-opening information isn’t contained in the post itself, but in the comments section, where authors have weighed in with their personal experiences. Anyway, sharing this with hubby was a mistake. I should know by now not to tell him anything that reflects negatively on writing or the quest for publication. Why? Because his response was, “So, what’s the point in trying?” Meaning: so why even waste your time trying to write something publishable and then try to get it published?

I realize he gets tired of the house not being as tidy as it maybe should be. Not to mention hastily thrown-together meals on those days when I’m stressed because the writing isn’t going well. Or when it is going well and I write most of the day and let everything else around here go begging. In his perfect world, I would meet him at the door with a smile, the mail, and a cup of coffee in hand and tell him supper is on the table and he can eat just as soon as he’s ready. Our ideas of a perfect world don’t often mesh.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s always been supportive, in that he allows me the space to let things go longer than they should so I can sit here at the computer and pursue my dream.

I wonder if it would have been better to leave him in the dark about the industry and the reality. All these years I’ve been telling him the truth, and sometimes he turns that knowledge against me. Maybe it would have been better to let him think that if I get published with one of the big houses, we’d be rolling in money and our worries would be over. Because that’s what most people in the general public think, you know. That when you get published, money is thrown at you by the handfuls. That’s the image that’s been perpetuated by the popular media, in movies mostly, and sometimes on tv. Ha. If they only knew.

The thing is, hubby doesn’t like to see me stressed. He doesn’t like to see me sit here for endless hours in my robe with the blinds closed, cave-like, while the sun is shining outside. He doesn’t like to see me knock myself out year after year, doing something that may never reap any reward. He thinks I’d be happier if I lived my life like a so-called normal person. But what about those days when I’m on top of the world because a scene or chapter has fallen perfectly from my fingertips to the page? What about the incomparable high of a project completed, of seeing my words in print? What about the notes from readers that make me feel I may just be worth something after all? Doesn’t all that count for anything?

Anyway. Yesterday, I spent several hours feeling sad because I knew hubby would be happier if I gave up writing altogether. Part of me wishes I could oblige him, but I’ve tried it before—giving up, that is. It didn’t work out. Not for me, anyway. Writing is the one thing I have that is all mine. It’s the dream I strive for, keep reaching for. Without dreams, there is only grim reality and the daily tedium of keeping up with the house and the family’s needs. I have needs, too, and I’ve reached the age where I’m just selfish enough to try and fulfill them. No one, not my husband or my children, can give me everything I need to make me truly happy. Only I can do that. This realization came only after many years of struggle. There was a time when I had to fight for my right to pursue my dream. Eventually, I won ground, and I don't see any reason to give it up again.

Devon

Mid-Week Hodgepodge

Tonight was elimination night on American idol. Scott McIntyre was sent home. No matter how much I know these people need to go, it's always sad when it happens. Last week, I was keeping my fingers crossed it would be Megan. That girl shouldn't be allowed to sing in the shower, in my opinion. Then, when she was voted off, her goodbye tribute made me tear up. Yeah, I'm just a mushy old sentimental jerk. One thing though, after last week I've finally decided about the final four. I have a feeling Adam is going to win and I'm beginning to think he deserves it. But I can't decide between Kris and Danny for the number two spot. Danny started off being one of my favorites, but now I'm leaning toward Kris. Allison Iraheta definitely deserves to be one of the final four. The girl gives a solid vocal performance week after week. A final note about Idol. I hate this "judge's save" thing they've come up with this year. All they've done is add more drama. And they can only do it up to the final five. Well, this renders it worthless. In past seasons, all the people who were voted off before they should have been were sent home while in the Top 5. According to these new rules they've dreamed up, the judge's save can't be used once they get to Top 5. So what's it worth? It wouldn't have saved Chris Daughtry. It wouldn't have saved Tamrya Gray. I know I'm leaving someone out, but maybe it'll come to me later.

Moving along... Have you heard about readers boycotting all e-books priced above $9.99 over on Amazon? If not, you can read all about it over on Galleycat. One commenter stated that it was necessary for the publishers to charge high prices because of all the overhead involved and because Amazon takes such a huge cut. I have to admit that my brows took a hike north at that one. What overhead? Once you have a digital copy of a book, there's no overhead involved. A gajillion copies of that book could go out to consumers with no material expense involved whatsoever. And as far as Amazon taking a huge cut--all I can say about that is, my book is listed at Amazon in Kindle format for $4.80. Comparatively speaking, I get paid nearly the same in royalties from the $4.80 Kindle edition as I do from, say, a download sold for $6.00 at Fictionwise. I just think some of the prices for e-books out there is a little over the top, but I really don't have enough info to make a compelling argument for or against. So, you'll have to look at the facts and make up your own minds on this one.

Finally, there's an article over at Writer Beware about self-published authors and pod (print on demand) books. The article reinforces the fact that most book-buying readers, distributors, etc. see all pod books as products of vanity presses. This is a fact because I've seen it for myself on reader forums, and speaking as an author with a pod book that is NOT self-published, this makes me see red. Never mind that there's an emerging segment of small, independent presses out there who are putting out print on demand books, or the fact that these books are NOT self-published and the publishers are NOT vanity presses. As long as booksellers like Amazon--who just happens to own its own vanity press--allows self-published books to be listed for sale along with everything else on the market, the pod stigma is not going away anytime soon.

Okay. I'm taking a deep breath now and calling it a night. Happy tomorrow, people!

Peace,

Devon

Disappearing Post

My apologies for posting something last night and then whisking it down this morning. It had song lyrics (the entire song) and I was afraid I was stepping on some copyright issues, so I took it down.

While I'm here, might as well spout off a bit. It snowed last night, then again today. There's nothing on the ground right now. It all melted when it got daylight. But the temperature fell below freezing last night, and it's supposed to be even colder tonight. These crazy climate changes are playing ruin with everything that grows in this region for the past several years. Every year, the temperatures get into the 70's and sometimes even the 80's in March, tricking everything in nature to think it's summertime and forcing it to grow. Then, an April freeze comes along and all the unsuspecting, beautiful plants and flowers, even small trees, get frozen where they stand. It's very discouraging, not to mention heartbreaking to watch the plants and flowers get killed year after year.

I know we're not supposed to complain about Mother Nature, but her little surprises are becoming habit. Later on, we'll probably have another drought. It's getting so we can't even grow any decent vegetables here in farm country.

I'll stop griping now because it never helps a thing. I'm going back to writing. Here's hoping the rest of the week has a better outlook.

Devon

A Simple Cake Recipe

Easter is only a week away so I thought I'd share a recipe for a simple to make, yet yummy, dessert. I got this from a Kroger mailing. About twice a month, I receive an envelope from them with coupons and recipes. They send special mailings for holidays.

Pockets of Lemon Cake

Cake: 1 white cake mix.

Filling: 1 (3.4 oz.) box lemon instant pudding & pie filling, prepared

Frosting: 1 (16 oz.) can lemon or vanilla frosting and 1 (8 oz.) container frozen whipped topping, thawed

Preparation: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 13X9 inch pan with flour no-stick baking spray. Prepare cake mix as directed on package. Spread batter in prepared pan. Drop pie filling by heaping teaspoonfuls evenly onto batter.

Bake 30 to 40 minutes or until edges pull away from pan and top is golden. Cool cake in pan for 45 minutes or until completely cooled.

Combine frosting and whipped topping in medium bowl; blend well. Spread over cooled cake. Refrigerate any leftovers.

Makes 16 servings.

It doesn't get much easier than that, and that picture is making me hungry. :o)

Enjoy!

Devon

Twitter-Tweeter, Jibber-Jabber

Last night I received an email from Twitter, informing me that someone was following (or whatever they call it over there) my profile. Until then, I'd forgotten that I'd signed up for that. And the only reason I did sign on was to try and see all the brewhaha known as #queryfail.

Well, I never did see the agent postings, nor could I make sense of how to navigate the site. Rather than waste time trying to figure out how to take part in yet another time suck, I clicked out of it and never went back. Pretty much the same thing happened with Facebook. I don't see what all the excitement is about, so I won't be doing it.

Back when everyone was first getting into MySpace, I was resistant to that, too. But, finally, I broke over and created a page for myself. At first it was foreign territory but, eventually, I learned how to add a few bells and whistles to my page and found the perfect layout to complement my book cover. All of that took time. Lots of time. Now that I'm familiar with the workings of MySpace, I no longer spend much time there. If I get a notice of a friend request or comment, I sign in and okay them, then I'm out again. I just don't see the big attraction.

Lately, I've been wondering just how many more ways people are going to come up with to "communicate" via cyberspace. I feel I already spend enough time keeping up with my friends via email, doing this blog, keeping abreast of my other favorite blogs, and keeping my web site current. Is it just me, or does anyone else feel we may be getting an overload of communication and information out there? Some people, and I'm not only talking about writers, but editors and agents, spread themselves so thin among all these new communication and information sites, I wonder how they ever have time for writing or editing and agenting. No wonder we don't have time to do everything we need to do, we waste most of it. One strange side effect of having so much information and personal glimpses into the lives of editors and agents is that when I sit down in front of my keyboard these days, I no longer feel like it's just me and my story. As I write, I sense all these industry professionals looking over my shoulder, and it's a tad inhibiting to the old creativity.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I'm against these things. I'm just saying I think we need to pick and choose the things we feel are worthwhile and stick to those. I love keeping up with my friends over email, and I love doing this blog. But that's pretty much where I draw the line. Any more than that is seriously interfering in the time I should be working on my manuscript or attending to home and family.

Peace,

Devon