I've been consumed with 1st, 2nd and 3rd round edits for my upcoming release: FAR FROM PERFECT through Montlake Romance. As a result, this post has not been as…er…researched or planned out as my previous posts. Something struck me while I was editing. There's a moment where the heroine is holding a death certificate in her hands, and she's reflecting on what it means and how official that slip of paper makes everything.
That got me thinking. We get a certificate when we enter this world, and we get a certificate when we leave it, and neither has a huge impact on us at either point. Checking in; checking out. Where do we go in between?
See? Completely random.
Next random thought: My family and my friends don't take me seriously. This pertains to my writing career. My children and siblings will not read my work. (Ouch) When I first got the offer from Carina Press for HEART OF THE DRUID LAIRD, my daughter's first comment was, "Now, you aren't paying them to publish your book, are you mom? Because…" Because I don't know any better? Because I'm that desperate? Because what, oh fruit of my womb who caused me three days of labor and delivery hell? Well, I don't really expect my son to read my books. They're romance, and he's a guy who reads the classics. My sister won't read them because the thought of reading sex scenes written by her little sister ooks her out. My other sister is just as bad.
Speaking of my sister…she emailed me the other day to tell me that this guy she knows is published, and he has these postcards with his book cover on the front and a blurb on the back. She tells me I should do that. Head to desk, then against wall, then on laptop. I tell her I have them, plus magnets, plus paid for ads in several publications… "Oh? When did you do all that? I want to see the postcards." Keep in mind I gave her one as soon as I got them, which was months ago.
A teacher friend was on her laptop the other day, and I asked her to go amazon to "like" my upcoming release. She did, and then clicked my name and the Druid book came up. Her expression of surprise, "Oh, look at all these reviews you have…wow." Okay, like this book has been out since last September. I did tell everyone I know. They just didn't take me seriously, or can't see me as anything other than who I am in the day job? Gah.
At what point will I be a "real" writer?
Do the rest of you writer types face this? Readers, at what point does a writer become bona-fide in your eyes? How many books does it take for that transformation to occur?
I'm not sure there's a magic number. When people find out I'm a writer I often find myself having the following conversation: "So, you're a writer. Have any books published?" Me: "Yes, I have ten published books." Blank surprise. It's as if they can't conceive of someone having that many books published and yet not being Stephen-King famous.
ReplyDeleteYeah, exactly! That kind of stunned look, like they're thinking one of two things: You're not good enough at writing to quit your day job, or...they just don't believe it!
ReplyDeleteI'll let you know when/if I get there, Barbara. I know the head::desk feeling well!
ReplyDeleteWhat a great post! My sons and hubby don't read any fiction so it was no biggie when they didn't read mine. My husband does like to hand out my cards to his business acquaintances, which is totally sweet. When they ask if he's read the book, he replies that he's waiting for the movie (LOL). But...other people I know don't seem to consider digital publishing as "real" publishing. One woman gave me the card of her relative who was involved in publishing in case I wanted to investigate being really published. She had the best intentions and I totally appreciated the sentiment but... I am actually really published. Really.
ReplyDeleteOh, I know what you mean, Janni! My other sister said "Maybe some day it will be real..." (Regarding my first book.) I'm like. Wait. It s "real." I have a contract, and I get royalties...OK, not big royalties... Snort.
ReplyDeleteCindy, how many do you have out now? And you still feel like I do, eh? Gah.
ReplyDelete40-some. And yep. Sorry!
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