I know, I know. We all thought I had my answer. Self-Publishing was definitely the way to go when it came to The Caspian Chronicles, right? Right? Well, maybe not. I don’t know. The last time I was so torn on a decision, I was trying to figure out if I should break up with my high school boyfriend or not (I did). That was three years ago… today, actually. Wow. Time flies. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that apparently this is the time of year when I question my decisions in life, and this year’s dilemma is the self vs. traditional publishing one.
Yeesh, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to write out a blog post like this. Over a month, in fact. There’s something freeing about this type of post, where I can just sit down and let whatever I’m feeling pour out. I don’t need to worry about you guys not gathering everything I’m saying because there isn’t really anything for you to gather. I guess what I mean is that I’m not teaching, I’m just talking. It’s hella relaxing, I’ll tell you what.
Lately, I’ve noticed that a lot of people in my life seem to discredit the fact that my writing–and everything that goes along with it, from research to marketing and more–is actually work. I’ve had people say to me, over and over again, “Wow, you’re so lucky, you just get to sit around and write all day!” And, I mean, yeah. I am lucky. Or, at least, I will be when that’s my full time job and I’m able to support myself with it. But, the thing is, even when I do reach that point, it isn’t going to be all fun and games. In fact, it’ll be less fun and games than it is right now.
Do you know what the most important point in a book is? Spoiler: It’s the climax. Do you know the most important thing to be able to write as an author? Double spoiler: Also the climax. Do you know what I absolutely drop the ball at every time? Triple-dog spoiler: The Climax.
You know how, when you’re little, you hear somebody say something once and, no matter how incredibly wrong that thing is, you believed it wholeheartedly? For example, when I was in the fourth grade, one of my friends “informed” me that babies were made by the mommy and daddy running around their bed naked. Yeah. And for literal years I honestly thought that was how babies were made. Even when I was old enough to think, “Huh, that doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense,” I couldn’t be convinced otherwise… Well, until one fateful day in health class when they showed us a video chronicling the life of a baby from conception to birth. That… changed things. *shudder*
“The allure of the shiny thing” is a term coined by the writing professor I had for my first two semesters here at college, Marcia Brenner. This magnificent woman (a woman who graced the world with my favorite quote of all time: “Trump is like the Krampus of politics. We got him because we were bad.”) has bestowed upon me most of the life-changing knowledge about writing that I’ve gained so far while I’ve been attending college. All of my other teachers are great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s Marcia that has literally changed my writing life for the better. She’s the one who taught me about rewrites, and the different writing forms, and the allure of the shiny thing.
Ever since I returned to school from my winter break, I’ve noticed that my motivation to work on my novel is somewhat lacking. That seems to be how it goes with me, though. Over summer and winter breaks, I’m a force to be reckoned with when it comes to my writing. At school, on the other hand, I can barely complete my writing assignments without a break every five seconds, much less get any work done on my novel. It’s frustrating, to say the least. My goal is to have it published by the end of my senior year (which is next school year), and how will I reach that goal when I can’t even bring myself to pull up the document on my computer? You’d think that majoring in Fiction Writing would mean that I would have a lot of time and motivation to work on my own personal projects, but no. Most of my time is taken up by reading classic literature as they attempt to mold us into the next great American author.