Adventures in Querying: Where is the Chubby Hubby Ice Cream When You Need It?

Ben and Jerry's has the most amazing flavor of ice cream called Chubby Hubby. It is a single pint of decadent saturate-your-sorrows in 35 grams of sinful artery-clogging saturated fat and it's-probably-better-if-you-don't-read-the-rest-of-the-nutritional-information yum-inny goodness.

For several years, it was my favorite fallback when things weren't going so well. Call it depression's best friend and my waistline's worst enemy. I could easily eat a pint (or two) all by myself when I was upset. After today's twenty-ninth check of my author email, it is perhaps advantageous for my britches and my overall general health that Chubby Hubby is no longer available in my area.

I just received another rejection for another query letter of my newest book. I know you might be saying "Big whoop....someone else said no to you.....move on." Believe me, I get the sentiment. I tried that approach for about five minutes as I wrote my Thank You letter to the kind assistant who sent the rejection letter on behalf of the oh-so-busy agent. But after I hit the 'Send' button, it hit me. This rejection letter was yet another paving stone in the road of this journey of mine that has been my entire life in the making.

<Sound the dramatic music now, if you please....>

I have read enough blogs over the years to know that most writers are CONVINCED they were destined to be a writer ever since they were knee-high to a grasshopper. Right after they unplugged from their mother's nipple and moved onto solid foods, they picked up the pen and began the path to their future career. At that point, I was still dragging around my bangy (blanket), believing the Cookie Monster was a real person, but what the hey. I was a kid.

As far as my grasp on my future grown-up career, I couldn't say with any level of certainty that I knew what I wanted to be in my adult years as I was learning my A-B-C's and delving into the wonders of easy arithmetic. I was pretty much all over the map with my career options up until just a few years ago.

My aspirations for the future began with marine biology, slid into mathematics, dallied in the arts, and a million other possibilities as I explored the world. I even contemplated becoming a mermaid once, but I heard the pay was appalling and the benefits mere fish food.

The point is, making grown up decisions when you are a kid, especially decisions that affect the rest of your life was neigh impossible. I was impressionable and was tossed around by the winds of other's influence. What I should want for my future and what I was allowed to dream for myself was invariably tainted by the pressures of those around me. Writing - as in being a writer - wasn't even a blip on my horizon.

It didn't matter that I loved it or that I pursued it all the time in the shadows of everything else that swam within the margins of my conscious brain. It wasn't considered a "responsible career." I allowed myself to be pushed in other directions.

All the while I was poking at the possibilities that the future had to offer me, in the background of my uncertainty and throughout my endless exploration of life, I wrote. Stories, poems, ditties. Some were good. Some were not.

Regardless of the quality, everything I did, everything I wrote, had a vast daydream lurking behind it. Even as I pursued the hard sciences and pushed my intellect the brink of utter overload, I brought imaginary worlds into being and hid their existence in the notebooks and papers that littered my bedroom, my car, my backpack, and sometimes the napkins that were my only source of paper. My dreams were my playground and my solace.

I craved those worlds and the promise they offered. I read voraciously, further stimulating the imagination that ran unchecked in my untamed mind. Never once do I remember consciously thinking "I am a writer" or "I want to be a writer when I grow up." Writing was something I simply could not help but do whenever and wherever possible.

In fact, I had teachers, faculty, and friends telling me writing wasn't my thing when they saw me scribbling in my notebooks. I was anything but a writer. So I made sure to write when no one was looking. The thing was, writing was inescapable. Like a fungus on wet, socked feet.

It was like a wooing lover that would not relent its sway over me, until finally, one day the truth dawned on me. I was the little writing crack whore who only felt satiated with a pen and paper in her hand. I could only find that sense of completeness and accomplishment when I was immersed in the written word. It was my burning desire. Let other people embrace the rat race and the corporate ladder.

World building. That was my utopia. It had only taken me my entire life to come to that understanding about myself.

Now back to Chubby Hubby and the consummate 'no'.

I realize that every writer has to make their bones, and usually the road to doing that is paved with rejection after rejection. The platitude is always tossed about that writers need to have a thick skin. While that may be true, part of me says even rhinos with their thick, plated skin can be killed so thick skin alone isn't so great a defense. Having "thick skin" suggests you are not allowed to feel bad when bad things happen, and that is a load of crap. That is how people end up leaping off of buildings....because they believe they have to "handle things" in silence and put on a brave face when they are feeling anything but brave.

Rejection hurts. It's why there are so many songs dedicated to the subject. The best way to deal with it (in my humble opinion) is first, to be honest about it. It sucks. Pretending that it doesn't isn't helpful. Next, have a great group of people who can be there to support you when the rejection happens. I am not talking about people who will tell you to stop feeling what you are feeling, and I am not talking about people who will help you wallow deeper in the sorrow than you would on your own. I am talking about level-headed friends and/or family who will listen and then help you see that the light at the end of the tunnel is hope and not an on-coming train.

For me, it was my family. My mom is a Chicken Soup For the Soul contributing author who has seen her share of triumphs and disappointments in her admirable writing career. My dad is a fellow writer and my faithful morning writing partner who has seen me through many a dry spell. And then there is my sister who is a brilliant blogger and all around great friend. They were all there to lift me out of my Chubby Hubby fog and set me back on my feet again. And let me not forget my faithful little pommies who know that sometimes puppy kisses really are the best medicine.

Whatever you do in this crazy race, don't do it alone, friends, and don't give up. Yes, it is hard. Falling on your fanny sucks, but luckily, fannies are padded so bouncing back from a fall is not as hard as you might think when you have helping hands to lift you up.

A great story will get you far. Perseverance will get you farther. See you at the finish line.

************

If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to connect with H.L. Stephens on Google+, Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter. Also check out H.L. Stephen's mystery series The Chronicles of Mister Marmee. Book 1 - The Case of Jack the Nipper and book 2 - The Case of the Wayward Fae are available in print and eBook format at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other online retailers. Coming Soon! Book 3 - The Case of the Monkey's Misfortune.

The Next Big Thing: A Raven's Touch by Linda Bloodworth - a new YA Paranormal Ready For Release

Today, I am happy...no happy is too tame a word....I am flipping thrilled to support my friend and fellow author Linda Bloodworth spread the word about her new YA Paranormal book release for her debut novel, A Raven's Touch. I have known Linda for many years now, and I have been there to witness the miracle of birth of this incredible book, from the first few chapters to the final amazing product you see below.

I could bubble and gush without end about what a great person Linda is, but it is her writing that deserves our focus today. We all have the chance to ride the wave of the first novel in what is sure to be a fantastic series (hint, hint).

So, without further ado, continue reading below for more information about Linda's book, A Raven's Touch, and don't forget to stop by her release party on December 28th for a chance to win a lot of cool prizes!  

 

Bullied through high school, seventeen-year-old Justice St. Michaels is grateful for the help of her best friend Moira O’Fhey. Their only wish is to graduate high school, leave the sleepy town of Fallingbrook and all that happened behind them. The Heavens have other plans. Between growths on her back and being involved in explosive school fights, nothing seems to make sense. When an unexpected encounter with Darien Raventhorn causes worlds to collide it exposes the truth about Justice's real identity. To avenge a family death, Justice must embrace her birthright, and slay a demon before all Hell breaks loose.

 

This is a book you don't want to miss! Are you already in the middle of a great read right now? Well, add A Raven's Touch to your Goodreads TBR List.

 

Otherwise, if you are not currently engaged, take the plunge and treat yourself to this new up-and-coming author and buy A Raven's Touch on Amazon.

 

Here is a little bit about the author:

Linda Bloodworth loves chips, like really, ketchup to be exact. Ketchup chips are only found in Canada (from what I understand). Luckily for Linda, she lives in Toronto with her husband and three fur babies. In between writing, debating for hours about the Oxford comma, and the misunderstood semi colon; Linda enjoys camping and getting away from the city on day trips.

 

Want to stay in touch? Visit Linda on her website here, or connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+!

 

************

If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to connect with H.L. Stephens on Google+, Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter. Also check out H.L. Stephen's mystery series The Chronicles of Mister Marmee. Book 1 - The Case of Jack the Nipper and book 2 - The Case of the Wayward Fae are available in print and eBook format at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other online retailers. Coming Soon! Book 3 - The Case of the Monkey's Misfortune.

When Being 'A Day Late and a Dollar Short' Ceases To Capture How Far Behind You Are

I used to love the phrase when I was a kid.

"A day late and a dollar short"

It seemed so jingly. So fun. So easy to catch up to if you just tried hard enough. After all, it was only a day and a dollar. How hard could it be?

Well, I am no longer a kid and that jingly tongue delighting phrase holds new meaning for me now that I know just how far behind you can get in this world and how many chances can pass you by without you even realizing it.

I am coming to the publishing game a little later in life than I wish I had. I am by no means Grandma Moses in age, but there are still times when I wish I had "found myself" a little closer to twenty than forty. But life is funny that way, and things worked out differently, so I am adapting and reveling in what I consider my second chance at a happy ending. The thing is, the journey there can be difficult. Just take a look at fairy tales. They are fraught with sticky predicaments and missed opportunities. How many times have you wanted to bop the hero in the back of the head because he or she missed their chance time and time again? Thankfully it always works out in the end, and that is what I strive for. That happy ending. I still, however, am marveling at my missed moments along the way.

Fun example...........

Few major publishers are accepting unsolicited work these days. One must have an agent or face the unending wall of defeat of ever getting published by the big-name publishers. Every so often, though, they relent and open the doors to all hopefuls and allow a stream of submissions without an agent presenting them.

In 2013, Tor Books UK opened their doors in just such a manner. It was unprecedented. This past May (2015 mind you), I happened upon the Tor blog post that announced their brave move. Of course seeing the date on the post, I scoured for any caveat announcing the closure of said opening. Surely to goodness after such a long time, they would not still be allowing such a flood of submissions. Try as I might, I could find nothing on their blog retracting the offer.

I was elated! I had just finished my first full fantasy novel and was starting the edit. I worked and worked to get it polished and was just getting ready to send it to an editor for their review. My hands were tingly with anticipation. I knew I would have to wait 4-6 months before submitting it anywhere else, but this was Tor after all. I couldn't help myself. I went back to the blog post to re-read what had been my beacon of hope for so long.

And there is was........the caveat that wasn't there before. How had I missed it? I had looked. I had read and re-read. I could hear the WHAA-WHAA that all losers hear when they miss out. The sad part is, Tor had closed the door to submissions four months before I found their post. So much for being a day late and a dollar short. I was four months late, and there was no catching up to that one.

This was not the first time that I have found myself in the sad, sad place of discovering just how late to the game I am. There have been other missed opportunities like the writing competition where the benefactor died two months before the winner could be announced. Yes, that competition was ended, and no winner was announced, and no.....it is way too depressing and rich to make up. There are others, which I won't enumerate, but what I will say is this.

Sad or not. Ridiculously naive or not, I find myself undaunted by these missed chances. Why? Because at some point, in my modest little hopes and dreams, I think it is possible to catch up. Eventually, I will have a story ready, and I will be there when the window is open and ready. I will be there to submit, and maybe, just maybe, I will be one of the lucky bastards who are chosen to go to the next level. Maybe I will barrage them with the plethora of stories that I will have written and edited waiting for "next time" to roll around. Who knows.

The point is, the race is not always won by the fast runners or even the strong runners, but by the ones who persevere. Sometimes that means us slow pokes that start at the back of the crowd. The ones who keep plodding along, sweating like pigs with red, shiny faces. Graceless though we may appear to be, we keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Yes, I was disappointed by the Tor Books UK discovery. I so wanted to submit to them, but it is not the end of the world, and it certainly is not the only opportunity I will ever have. It just wasn't my time, and I obviously wasn't ready. I am keeping the faith, and in the meantime, I am writing.

There is another phrase I have grown to love as I have gotten older.

Never give up. Never surrender. Whether you are coming to the game early or late, it is a good motto to have because life can knock you on your assets at any stage of the game. You just have to decide whether you have it within yourself to get back up on your feet, wipe off the dust, and get back in there, or give up altogether and walk away for good. I have seen a lot of writers take the second path. I guess I am just a bit too stubborn to know when to give up. Here's hoping you are too.

************

If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to connect with H.L. Stephens on Google+, Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter. Also check out H.L. Stephen's mystery series The Chronicles of Mister Marmee. Book 1 - The Case of Jack the Nipper and book 2 - The Case of the Wayward Fae are available in print and eBook format. Coming Soon! Book 3 - The Case of the Monkey's Misfortune.

Adventures in Querying: Receiving the First of Many Bloody Noses

We've all had that dream. No, I am not talking about the dirty bathroom dream where all of the stalls make the use of an outhouse at the yearly fair seem like a delightful prospect. Nor am I referring to the dream where you are walking naked through your old high school during peak rush hour and you can't seem to find your locker. I am talking about the dream so many writers have about sending out their first query letter. It usually goes something like this.

You send out the letter to the big-wig agent. (It is of course your first attempt.) They read it and immediately call you up and offer a billion dollar contract for your stupendous piece of literary art. You, without hesitation, accept the outrageous offer and within months find yourself on the set of the movie adaptation of your book. Okay, so the dream might vary a smidge for some, but the concept is pretty much the same. There are no disappointments, and there are certainly no bubble deflating rejections.

We writers want to be heard. We want an audience for our stories. The problem is, there is a universe of noise that stands between us and the people we so long to connect with. For many, the agent is the one who helps us navigate through the rivers of crap. The hard part is finding someone willing to take the risk on our work, and timing is everything.

Cold, hard reality check in 3, 2, 1...........

Unfortunately, none of us are clairvoyant. We can't know what the "right time" is for the agent we hope is the "right fit". Oh sure, there is that lucky writer soul that comes along and strikes at the perfect moment just after morning coffee but before the bran muffin hits in all its unforgiving glory. Just like there are people who get record deals because the executive happens to hear them singing in the bathroom stall right next to them. (I am so NOT that person.)

The reality for the rest of us is that luck like that doesn't exist. We have to work our butts off to get noticed. We have to jump up and down, find the right words, and sometimes make asses of ourselves to get any attention. And sometimes that means we are going to get punched in the nose for our efforts at some point in time.

The other night I got one of my bloody noses. Its not really the first bloody nose I have received, and I sure as heck know it won't be my last. It still stung. My heart still hurt a little. My eyes got teary, and for a moment...just a brief little moment, I felt bad about the blow.

I got the email late at night - sent at 10:21 p.m. I was up reading someone else's book on my e-reader when the notice came in. I should have left the email for the morning when I would have been more equipped to handle what I had read. The thing was <true confessions here>, I had been waiting and hoping for weeks, so my curiosity got the best of me. The next thing I knew, my face was bloodied, and I found myself sitting up in the middle of the night wondering what I had done wrong.

The letter wasn't particularly bad, but it wasn't particular good either. It read much like what you would expect from someone returning an entrée they weren't satisfied with. I don't think I will forget the line I am afraid I will be passing. I could almost see the crinkle of distaste in the agent's lip. I have said the same thing after finding a hair in a dish. No thanks, I think I'll pass.

Needless to say, it took me a while to get to sleep. I had to staunch the blood flow before my head hit the pillow. I knew I wasn't going to bleed to death, but when you get hit with disappointment after such high hopes, it is easy for things to spiral out of control, especially in the middle of night. I grabbed my Kleenex, and I started thinking.

The story I am trying to sell is different from the current market stream. There are no vampires, werewolves, or zombies. There is no magic in the story at all. Just a gritty teenager and a really bad ass story with a lot of heart. (Gotta defend the story here folks. Bear with me.) My point is, sometimes "different" isn't what people are looking for. Some of the biggest names in the business got turned down when they first sent out their queries. Their big breaks came during chance encounters at writers' conventions after being turned down time and time again. Or it came when they ditched convention and self-published. So the query letter isn't always a guaranteed win.

So where does that leave me? You might think right where I was before I sent out my letter, but you would be wrong if you took that path of assumption. In truth, I am better off than I was before I hit the send button on my computer. Yes I got a little banged up, but the truth of the matter is, I believed enough in myself and my writing to take a risk. I received a 'no' from the agent, but that doesn't mean it is the last time that agent will ever hear from me. As a matter of fact, sometimes being gracious and a bit tenacious is the best response in the face of a rejection.

The very first thing I did was send a 'thank you' note to the agent while the tears were fresh. That person did after all take the time to read through the stuff that I sent out. Courtesy is quickly becoming a lost art, so a positive response on my part certainly can't hurt. It might even make a lasting impression.

I have a choice in all of this. I can either curl up into a tiny ball and cry until my tear ducts swell shut and cease working, or I can be like the badger dog and hold on for dear life. I like badger dogs. They are tenacious, and they don't give up. It is how they survive. After all, badgers are mean, and they take no prisoners. The realm of publishing that I have stepped into is a lot like the badger....mean and unforgiving sometimes....or so I have heard. I have to find a way to survive as I follow this path to my dreams.

So here's to bloody noses, however many I receive, and here is to never giving up as I count my blows. One of my favorite authors, who has been a great encouragement to me, received over fifty rejections before his first book was picked up. That's a lot of Kleenex. Guess I better go buy a few more boxes because I am in for the long haul. See you around folks!

************

If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to connect with H.L. Stephens on Google+, Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter. Also check out H.L. Stephen's mystery series The Chronicles of Mister Marmee. Book 1 - The Case of Jack the Nipper and book 2 - The Case of the Wayward Fae are available in print and eBook format. Coming Soon! Book 3 - The Case of the Monkey's Misfortune.

Adventures in Querying: The Art of Being Patient....Are We There Yet???

I thought when I saw puberty and all its trappings disappear into the rear view mirror of adulthood, I would somehow gain a greater sense of patience and a zen-like ability to wait for the things that truly mattered. As though impulse control increased the older I got. <Queue the maniacal laughter>

Though it is true I have developed a mature approach to a great many segments of life that require my patience:

- waiting in line at the store
- waiting for my refund check to arrive from the tax man
- waiting for a bathroom stall to open up when the Go-Go Bran Muffin cart is handing out free samples at the mall

There are new areas where patience has yet to become a concrete virtue for me in my adult years, however. Waiting for an answer from my query letters is one of them.

It is reminiscent of my childhood vigil for Christmas Day to arrive. Somehow I just knew that each time I looked at the calendar, it would hasten the approach of that magical morning, as though observation changed the outcome of the principles of physics and what we understood of the passage of time. I was light years ahead of Schrodinger and his crazy old cat at the tender age of five. I checked the calendar half a dozen times a day or more starting the day after Thanksgiving. The weird thing was, Christmas never seemed to get there any faster.

Having sent out my first query letters, one would think I would be afraid to look for an answer (since most people tell me I should expect at least a few dozen smacks in the face before I get my first nibble). Yet day after day, I find myself checking my email incessantly looking for the tell tale response from the agents I submitted to. It's almost sad.

I find excuses to hit the send/receive. I need to clean out my inbox (which I hardly ever do.) I need to update my settings (again, a rarity). The list of "valid" reasons is as endless as my childhood energy once was. I know I have weeks to wait, but part of me can't help it. Even if there is a rejection in the missive, I don't want to miss it - not one, single solitary word of it. Why? The answer is quite simple.

It took me years, decades really, to discover what I wanted to do with my life. I was always a writer, scribbling away on sheets of paper at all hours of the day and night when that was the mode of expression. But in the "real world", I pursued other avenues. I studied math and science. I even excelled in those areas. I got my degree in engineering. I have worked for a software company for almost a decade, but in all that time of going to school and studying the hard, challenging topics that everyone said I would fail at, I never felt that burning passion. I just wanted to prove the nay-sayers wrong, and I did. But that isn't the same as finding your one great love.

I have that passion when I write. I feel that burning ember in my breast whenever the ideas begin to flow. I feel the yearning to create drawing me like a lover, ever beckoning, always ready to embrace me. It is my place of ultimate joy. So with each query letter comes that sense of hope and anticipation. Perhaps this time I will receive an answer that will enable me to remain in my lover's arms indefinitely.

Yes, I expect the rejection, but with it comes an opportunity to learn and improve my craft, and I have a choice to pick myself up and try again. If I can weather all those years of study followed by countless years of working in a job that is not my first love, I can navigate my way through a few dozen rejection letters. I am not afraid to "make my bones". I am just a afraid of never trying and giving myself and my writing the chance they deserve. Getting a rejection letter isn't failure. Failure only comes when I throw up my hands and give up on my dreams.

************

If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to connect with H.L. Stephens on Google+, Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter. Also check out H.L. Stephen's mystery series The Chronicles of Mister Marmee. Book 1 - The Case of Jack the Nipper and book 2 - The Case of the Wayward Fae are available in print and eBook format. Coming Soon! Book 3 - The Case of the Monkey's Misfortune.

What Makes an Author "Real"?

I have experienced some low blows in my life; you know the kind that leaves you reeling once it has been delivered......where you wonder what you have done to deserve such a whammy. I won't bore you with the details of the myriad pains I have experienced over the years because frankly, I prefer not to relive those inglorious moments. Punishing myself with their recollection does me no good except to remind me of the feelings of helplessness I felt during those moments when I wish the words I hold so dear had come more readily to my lips.

Rather than relive those times, I strive to move forward, leaving those events and the people who perpetuated them in the dust of my forward momentum. I always have the option of writing about such moments later of course; masking the villains of my past in some well-cloaked character where the outcome of the confrontation is somehow more glorious in my fantasy world than it felt at the time in my reality. But in the here and now, I must find ways to cope as a professional....as a person....as a tender-hearted soul who has the capacity to be hurt by the thoughtless words of another.

The other day I experienced another one of those low blows but from a direction I never would have expected. I was urged by a woman a few months back (with great enthusiasm mind you) to contact a particular organization that works with children; an organization with whom she had strong ties. The woman was familiar with my novels and thought I would be a perfect candidate to participate in a program this organization hosted every year. It was called "Author Day." It was a day when authors were invited to come and talk to the children to share everything with them and their parents. The authors were able to share their dreams, their motivations, their bodies of work, their history....whatever they felt led to surrender of themselves. It was a day of exploration for all involved. It was a day to give of oneself, or so I imagined such a day would be.

I remember what I was like when I was a child. I loved to read. For me, books were a place where magic existed, in all its wonder and power. Books held more appeal to me than anything else; television, movies, the mall, video games could not entice me the way the pages of a book could. A book could take you anywhere in the universe, and I took advantage of that limitless transportation every chance I got. If I had ever been granted the opportunity to meet any of the authors that I loved as a child, I probably would have died from sheer delight. So to have the opportunity to go and speak to children who obvious were being brought up in an atmosphere of book-loving was a chance I couldn't turn down.

Now here is the caveat I must share before continuing with my tale. I am very shy, so it took me almost five months after I was given the name of the organization to gather up enough nerve to look the place up online. It took me another day to get the nerve to pick up the phone and call. But I did it. I have two novels on the market. I have people from all over the world who are reading my books. I had nothing to be ashamed of. At least I didn't think I did. I dialed the number and introduced myself to the woman who answered the phone. She was very nice but wasn't the coordinator. I was forwarded to the lady-in-charge's voice mail, and I left my message. I was on cloud nine. I had really done it. I had taken the risk, and I knew in my heart it would pay off. Then I got the callback and so began the building of my mortification.

The woman who called me back was thrilled I had called her. I was a local author. How fabulous! I had two novels. How great!

We have already scheduled the author for this year's event, but we would love to have you come for the day and meet the children.

My heart was bursting at the seams. I was so excited.

Do you know such and such an author?

Um, no but I was a fast learner. I was certain I could find their work and read it before the event.

Oh....I see.

I could feel things cooling off. Not every author in the world knows every other author. We are not all related.

Well, who is your publisher?

I gave her my answer. I was published through an indie publisher and I gave her their name.

Oh.....I see.

Question after question whittled away at her 'respect' of my work. At my accomplishments as an author. I could feel the disapproval settle into her voice as she gave me the final blow.

I don't mean to disappoint you but we generally only host nationally recognized authors who have won prestigious awards like the Caldecott award. You are welcome to come and see the authors speak and share with the children what your dreams are. We will send you information. If you don't hear from us though, it is just because things have been all booked for the year.

There was the raw, bare truth. I wouldn't be hearing from them because somehow, I didn't fit into their mold of what a "real" author was. I found myself wanting to explain. I found myself wanting to defend my work. All I did was thank her in a small voice and hang up, knowing I would never hear from her again; knowing she would never hear from me. The truth is, it wouldn't have mattered what I said to her. She had already made up her mind what I was worth without ever seeing what I had written. It would probably surprise her judgmental little heart to know that some of the most popular books today started as indie published books; books that she has either applauded or criticized but would undoubtedly recognize as "legitimate" works because they were picked up by one of the big 5 publishing houses. But that fact didn't make the authors more "real" than they were when they first wrote their books. It just meant they got more exposure and more attention once they were published through those avenues.

I am not saying that I will be one of those indie authors that gets picked up in such a way, but I will tell you this. It doesn't get more "real" than what I do every day for my craft. On the weekends, I get up at 5:30 to write. If I am lucky, I can get in around 5,000+ words over the two days before I go about the rest of the many tasks the weekend holds. There have been weekends where I have been graced with over 10,000 words, but I cannot ignore the other tasks that are on my list.

I have a fulltime job as a technical writer/tester/designer for a software company, so I don't have a lot of free time during the week to write. What little time I do have left during the weekday after chores and family time, I spend in promotional and PR tasks. Twitter, Facebook, blogging, Goodreads, Website updates. The works. I am a one woman show. I don't have a team. There is just me. You tell me I am not a real author, that the work I do isn't "real", and I will have a few choice words for you that aren't polite to say in any company, mixed or otherwise. I may not have one of the big 5 publishers as my banner to wave YET, but it doesn't mean I am not the genuine article, and it doesn't give anyone the right to be cruel or unkind to me. Finish two novels that are over 120,000 words a piece, polish them, edit them, and get them ready for market and perhaps then we can talk. Until then, hold your peace because all you are is an armchair critic who has no concept of what it takes to do what I do EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE!

Some day, I will be one of those big name writers. Why? Because I refuse to give up, and I refuse to stop writing. Eventually, the agencies and publishers will get tired of seeing my name come across their desk, and they will take the time to read that first chapter of my work, because trust me, that is all it will take. And when that day comes (and it will) the people like the woman who let me know I wasn't good enough to participate in her "Author Day" event will start calling me. I just hope when that day comes, I show more compassion, humility, and grace than they ever showed me.

So why the rant? The message is simple. It is so easy to pass judgment on others; to dismiss them without a thought or a care for how it might make that other person feel. It is easy to do when you are the one with all of the power and authority in the situation, but remember. The table can turn so quickly, and you can find yourself facing the same person you spurned, asking them to help you instead of the other way around. If you can show kindness even in the letdown, please do so. That simple act may just be your salvation one day when you need it the most.

Remember the ripples in the pond. Whatever you send forth may be the very thing that returns to you a hundred fold. Make sure it is a reward worth receiving.




If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to join the community by clicking 'Join this site' on the right or by following via Google+. Checkout H.L. Stephen's novels 'The Case of Jack the Nipper' and 'The Case of the Wayward Fae', available at Amazon or Barnes & Noble.