I'm only 62.7% insane for doing this.

So here's the thing. I'm committed to doing this, and I'm going to. But on occasion I think about my workload and get overwhelmed. Surely that never happens to anyone else.

I'm not usually overwhelmed by my writing career (it's the other stuff on my plate,)  but today I was (excuse the line of thought typing) thinking about: finishing the book and edits and betas and then trimming and edits and queries and agents and edits and editors and edits and...

...my other books in my head... and trilogy concepts I can't seem to figure out...

Phew.

I've just finished Wings by Aprilynne Pike, and loved it. Craft wise it was the perfect novel for me to read. I read up on her and her publishing story and thought of my other author-inspirations and their stories and started to get scared. About my writing! Which is so much less overwhelming than the rest of my life. And I wasn't scared because I don't want to do this or don't think I can, but because it's... a lot of work and I'm slightly busy.

So I decided to kick myself with some self-affirmation.

Blurb Attempt, aka What my book's about in a rough sort of way

Authors are supposed to have a practiced back-cover-blurb (called a copy) description of their novel in case they run into an agent or editor and they want to pitch their work.

Eventually I will make one and it will be concise, intriguing, and fresh. Sadly it does not exist yet. This soooo does not count as a blurb I'll pitch with, but here goes a first attempt.

Auralie Rocher pretends the bronze statue of a World War I soldier is her boyfriend. She visits him everyday in the woods surrounding Petercove Preparatory Academy.  Surrounded by opulence and  spoiled classmates, Auralie obsesses over her dream of being the orchestra’s concertmistress, never dreaming someone could stand in her way.  

Immediately after the audition of her life, Auralie learns she has a fearsome inheritance, that the unspeakable tragedies in her childhood made her stronger than she could imagine, and that her boyfriend isn’t so pretend anymore.

He’s alive. And he’s in love with her. And still very, very bronze.

There's your taster of what I'm writing. No, it doesn't mention my intricate geology-based magic system, but them's the breaks, eh? 

What's in a title?

Recently I learned that many authors do NOT get to choose the title of their books. Usually they have input and/or veto power, but they rarely come up with a title on their own.

This is comforting to me.  I’d rather not choose my title.

It’s impossible to decide on something. I need a title that will sell, but I also want something with atmosphere. I don’t trust myself to come up with one.

So far I’ve thought of Doughboy, My Bronze Boyfriend, and neither one of them is right. Not by half. So please ignore my bad titles, because I’m not really committed to them. I’m committed to my characters.

How This Happened

When I moved to Austin, TX in 2012 I visited the library before buying groceries. True story.

I read a lot, mostly YA fiction. Once or twice I’d thought I could make a novel-length story of my own, but dismissed the idea. In March of 2013 I decided I could do it. I was good at writing, so if I combined that talent with a drive to keep working and learning and invested time writing my tush off… I would get published some day.

My mind needed a place to roam and frolic. I needed somewhere far away from my full-time housewife/Mommy of two children under the age of two job. My uber-fabulous, wonderful, brilliant and supportive husband encouraged me. Possibly his motivation grew from my literal loss of mental faculties and daily tendency to devolve into an angry creature children fear. Eventually  I learned I not only wanted this other way to spend my time, I needed it. And that made it okay.

So it began.

I watched Brandon Sanderson’s creative writing lectures onWriteAboutDragons, read dozens of writing craft how-to books, visited hundreds of blogs, found the podcastWritingExcuses, visited author panels, researched publisher’s market and how to snag agents, etc.

I plotted my first book. Not my decade-ago previous attempt resulting in ten pages of honestly horrible fiction, but an actual novel. Characters, scenes, and chapters were born BECAUSE I MADE THEM. Then I wrote them onto pages.

Suddenly I loved my life.

I tried NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month– you’re supposed to write 50K words), got 35,000 words in before everyone in my household got sick, and had to quit. But not bad for a person with my workload! I’m proud of myself.

Then I bought Scrivener. To be more precise, I begged my husband to get it for me for Christmas and he did. Thanks again, Dearest! My brain is much happier now. As is my laptop. Combined with Dropbox (try writing a novel when your files are spread across three computers and I guarantee an aneurism), my writing woes have shrunk.

All I need now is more time to write, or in lieu of such, more will to make the time to write. Wish me luck.