Emotional Roller Coasters + #WritersBlock ~ #amwriting #writerslife

"Writers Write" -- until they don't, or can't, for some reason.  This is a re-post of the story I shared originally on fellow author Casi McLean's blog, as part of her "Authors Bare All" (ABA) series:

There are a lot of posts and articles about various tricks and exercises which can be used to combat writer’s block, but this isn’t one of them.  It’s really more my personal story of fighting my way back to writing after walking away from it for a while.

A lot of authors are very prolific, turning out several books a year, but I’m not one of them.  It usually takes me an average of a year’s time to write a full-length manuscript.  It takes a lot out of me, too, even though I do derive pleasure from the process when things are going smoothly.  But, of course, writing, and life, don’t always go smoothly.

My new release and an event with
some literary stars were some of the
highlights of the summer of 2016!

My fourth novel, Haunted Souls, came out the summer of 2016, and I spent a lot of time doing promotional events that summer—including signing books with an author idol, Mary Higgins Clark!  Then suddenly it was October, a popular month for my combination of ghost mysteries and romance, and as usual, I over-scheduled myself with both online events and author panels and talks.  My writing, which had taken a back seat to a new release over the summer, stalled out completely.

For me, once that happens, it can be a challenge to get back.  I had the idea, I had the first few chapters, I had an outline, I’d done the research…but I couldn’t seem to force myself to sit down and actually type words.  So I decided I would participate inNaNoWriMo…not with the goal of actually finishing the novel, but with the goal of getting the required word count in daily, which would equate to 50,000 words in a month’s time.  This has worked for me before, and as I get on a roll, it gets easier.  And so I began.

It was going great.  And then my Dad found the tumor, around Thanksgiving.  My inspiration for word counts dwindled.  I kept trying for a while, but by the time I found myself thinking “just write 100 words today”, and still dreading it, I decided enough was enough.  I have fans who are looking for my next book, and I’m eternally grateful for that and loathe to disappoint them.  But I’m also not locked into any million-dollar contract that says I have to submit a book at a certain time, either.  So I closed the Word document and threw myself into other things.

One of those things was going through the final part of the college decision-making process with my older son…college visits, campus tours, etc.  Then there were also the senior class events which became more frequent as the spring went on.  I spoke with my Dad a lot, visited him in D.C when I was able, and tried to hold it together.  He lost the battle in April, and then I set about helping plan a funeral while grieving.

My older son graduated in June, and I was determined to spend as much time with him, and the family, as I could the summer before he left for college.  Occasionally I thought of my unfinished manuscript, but even looking at it seemed too overwhelming.  Losing the only parent I had left, having a son finish high school and prepare to leave home…it was an emotional roller coaster and all I could do was hang on tight, savor the memories, and work on making new ones.

After my son was successfully set up at his new home away from home, I started thinking about writing again.  I missed it.  My characters still wanted their story told.  I had over 50,000 words done already.  But I was scared.  Could I even still write?

I told myself I’d just read it.  One chapter a day, to get reacquainted with the story.  I liked what I had.  And while I didn’t exactly “write” every day, I did make changes, take notes, edit, etc., all the while letting the pieces of the plot sink back in, along with the finer details.  And when I got to that last sentence, right in the middle of a scene, I just picked it back up.  Slowly at first, but then I gained momentum.

So, I’m back at it, going strong, and I’m really excited about that.  And very relieved that I haven’t “lost it”—I just needed time.

Back at it!
Please share your story, fellow authors!

Saying Goodbye to My #Dad #grief

The tumor appeared right after Thanksgiving, a hard marble on the side of his neck.  By March, it had grown to the size of a softball, and chemo and radiation had begun.  But my father lost his battle with throat cancer last week, at the end of April, and I'm still reeling with grief, shock, and the finality of saying goodbye.  Of never hearing his voice again, never laughing with him again, never hugging him again.

Reading The Night Before Christmas, 1970

So I thought I'd dedicate my blog post today to a few of the stories about my dad that relate to my love of reading, and by extension, my desire to become an author myself.

I absolutely credit my dad with my passion for reading.  He loved to read.  So beyond just reading picture books to me as a child, my father made sure I had stacks of novels, chosen to match my interests, once I could read myself.  He would visit the library each week, and head straight to the Children's Librarian, who would help him pick out the weekly haul.  Usually, the subject matter revolved around horses and young riders (Winter Pony, Summer Pony, Misty of Chincoteague, The Blind Connemara), animals in general (Benji, The Incredible Journey, Charlotte's Web, A Cricket in Times Square), mysteries and adventures (Encyclopedia Brown, all the Choose Your Own Adventure books, Baby Island)...but sometimes other genres and subject matter made it into the pile, just by virtue of the sheer amount I could read in a week.  It was difficult to keep up with.

So when I was in second grade, a book titled Jane-Emily, by Patricia Clapp, came home from the library.  The tag line read "A ghost story...and a love story".  I.  Was.  Hooked.  I'd found my ideal mix of elements: a spooky haunting, mixed with romance (in this case, a very sweet romance, set in the early 1900s).  I read it over and over again.  I made my best friend read it.  Since then, we're both still scared of those silvery reflecting balls that sit on pedestals in yards.

Jane-Emily introduced me to paranormal romantic suspense, and this childhood favorite has made a lifetime mark, impacting what I write as an author--yep, combinations of ghost stories and love stories, although the romantic element in my novels is decidedly steamier, as my books are meant for more mature readers.  But I still go back to revisit Jane-Emily from time to time--my copy from eBay sits on the bookshelf--and I even read it to my two boys when they were little.  And I may never have discovered this book without my Dad's dedicated trips to the library to keep me reading for pleasure.

The second story is from a family vacation to Bethany Beach (where I now get to sign books on occasion) when I was around 12 years old.  We made sure I had my usual stack of books to tide me over for the week, but since it was summer and we spent the days relaxing, I read even faster than usual.  I was done in the first three days, and four more days with no new reading material just wasn't acceptable.  At that time, the main strip of Bethany consisted of just a few stores, certainly no independent book stores.  But the Five and Dime had a display of Nancy Drew Mysteries.  Some I'd read, but a few I hadn't.  My father purchased the ones I had not yet read.

Those lasted another 24 hours, and then we were back to square one.  At this point, he started inquiring about libraries, and we were directed to a little mobile library, literally a trailer, serving the summer residents of Bethany Beach.  They made it very clear that they didn't allow vacationers without permanent summer addresses to borrow books.  The risk of loss, keeping track, etc.  I don't remember if my father wore them down with an argument, or just left some cash as collateral, but I do remember I walked out of there with a bunch of books.

Bethany Beach, 1970...well before my
Nancy Drew Mystery days

Good memories.  Even as adults, we traded titles we enjoyed, and he would pass along all the new releases he'd picked up at the bookstore.  I know every time I find a book that pulls me in, and takes me on a fabulous journey, away from the stress of everyday life, I'll think of him, and thank him silently for fostering my love for stories.