Sleepy Sunday — and boy, do I need it! I spent the better part of the week running from here to there, with a long train ride taking longer than expected, no time to compress before the semester started, and with two computers (home and work) to be repaired, I got through that admirably.

As I sit here in front of my new computer with horribly coffee that we ourselves did not roast, I think the secret to my calm about writing lately has three sources:

Living as if I’ve already been published (which I have, if you include short stories and flash fiction;
Making sure I have a lot (queries, submissions and the like) out there;
Not writing novels for a while (although I’m sending one to dev edit soon, the last of my backlog) and sticking with shorter writing.

Driving myself, I’ve noticed, doesn’t get me any closer to success, but it does make me grumpy. But at the same time, I can’t let it go completely.

The best use of my time

I have decided to quit NaNo this year. Not because I can’t finish it, but because I don’t need to finish it. I have serious editing to do on everything I write because a bad habit of mine has been pointed out to me (telling rather than showing). My past dev editor didn’t pick these problems up, but the current publishing editor (who missed the problems in my query materials) did. Go figure.

I need to learn to deal with these myself because I don’t know if I can afford another dev edit on the same document. I need to get better, and someday I might be good enough to publish.

I’m scared I’ll never be good enough to publish, but if I can’t find the problems in my writing, I know I’ll never be good enough to. Becoming Kringle can wait — the best use of my time right now is re-editing.

Seeking clearness

I want to hear your thoughts. I’m thinking about where to go with my writing.

I have come to the point where I need to think seriously about whether to continue writing and whether to continue my quest to be published, which are related but seperate things. 

Thoughts:

1) One doesn’t write novels “for oneself”. The rough draft of a novel is about 80,000 to 100,000 words. I write about 1000 words in an hour when I’m in the groove; much fewer when I’m not. This doesn’t count the number of hours editing and re-editing, which I would estimate at least another 60 hours. 

2) If I could share with people for free, I might be inclined to keep writing. I have trouble getting my friends (that’s you!) to beta-read or read for the heck of it. The time I tried serializing on WattPad or that other platform way back when, nobody read. People don’t read much anymore, I’m told. 

3) It’s easy to say “If I get an agent/get published/get readers then that’s a sign from God that I’m supposed to keep writing.” What if I don’t get these? Is it a sign that I’m not supposed to work toward getting published anymore?

4) I will be working with a publishing coach, probably to pursue the self-publishing route. But the recommendations are likely to be “find some friends to read it, and have them write reviews”. This bothers me because a) it seems like gaming the system and b) #2 above.

5) Without people to share my stories with, I’m losing the thrill. I want you to know my characters. They’re like family to me — the immortal lawyer Luke and his Denisovan consort Su, the dark Grzegorz, the droll Weissrogue, edgy Kat, and others. 

I need your thoughts and your help.

A Really Short Poem

Note to readers: I’d like to call this Elegy, but only if it plants doubt rather than certainty that the subject is dead. Anyone want to weigh in?

At the reservoir,

Fishing pole in hand,

I tell a story to the wind you’ll never hear.

To know is to know is to know –

We could have argued that

All afternoon over coffee and tea,

But the distance between

Is words and stories and seas.

I tell a story to the wind you’ll never hear.