Picking around the rubble.

Sometimes, when life hands you lemons, they are actually hand grenades painted yellow to throw you off your guard.

How, as aspiring writers, are we to avoid this so that we can get on with our work?

We don't, because if it was that damned easy there would be no reason to write about it.

After finishing my first novel, I came to the realization that in order to progress in life I was going to have to don the mantle of minor miracle worker. This mantle is one part ditch digger, three parts pyramid brick layer, and six parts draft horse. I still have on my plate (I will get a bit personal here, so as to provide context): a troubling financial future, impending graduation (if I can get my act together), ailing family members, and trouble at home. This situation is hardly unique, but it is difficult, emotionally involved, energy and resource draining, and somewhere in it all time and energy must be mustered to write.

The only solution I have found is time management. That is it. No magic words, no fairies in bottles.
Just plain old fashioned time management. It helps, I am terrible at it, but it helps.

So, if you find yourself swamped, but have a burning desire to create, do not despair. Do not sacrifice what is important to you for something else. Sit down, prioritize, plan out a schedule and most of all STICK TO THE DAMN THING. (as much as possible)

I have more thoughts on this subject, but for a later time. Just got off work and am a bit tired.
Good luck.

The Agency Hunt and Letting Go

There are many, many steps on the road to becoming an author. It involves patience, dedication, and a rather thick skin.

I say this because I am about to take the next, most dreaded step.

Agent hunting.

We all done shuddering now? Good.

In all of my time, few things have caused me this much tension and stress, but at the same time few things have left me with such a sense of excitement.

But with a third draft of a manuscript, the first couple chapters of another work, and a compilation of short stories in the pipeline I figured it was time to get off my lazy ass and get something done and take the steps to putting things into print.

It is not the fear of judgment or rejection that has stayed my hand this long. Nay, it is the fact that once it sits in its new shiny dust jacket and its new spot on the shelf, then it is no longer my private joy, but one I must now share with the world.

It is simultaneously heart breaking and beautiful and the only thing I can think to compare it to right now is of a mother letting go of their child's hand on that first day of school, or a father's hug to that same child on the day they graduate and enter into the world.

Once those steps are taken, the baby you have nurtured is off to make its own decisions and in turn have opinions formed about them.

A pure moment for pride and sorrow to grip one's heart and give one pause where action is needed.

Thus I address the envelope and once more read over its contents with a heavy heart. The long weeks of waiting are all that lie ahead as the children of my mind try find their way in this world.