Wednesday, February 5, 2014

THE WAGONS ARE CIRCLING

Getting that first book written is hard to describe.  Being able to say I've written a book, pretty darned satisfying.   And then...  Publishing the first book is high up there, probably near the top.  It's so cool to see that first book and hold it in your hands.  Then comes the first book-signing where so many of your friends line up and buy your book.... Sniff... hard to explain how wonderful that felt.

After writing a handful of books, it's still uber exciting to get a book published and see that wonderful cover and hold it in your hands.   After publishing several books the excitement remains because each new book is such a big part of the author (I know I write dark fantasy and creepy critters), but really-truly these books are a big part of me.   Actually, I went to a psychic in Disney World in October and she shocked me when she said I had a dark side.  MOI?  Not really.... is all I could think.  But then, the psychic said, this dark side is vented by something you do creatively.  WHAT!?  How cool!  I told her I write dark fantasy books.  Well!  We chatted like crazy after that.

By now you're wondering what the heck does this have to do with wagons circling.  After the writing of books -- comes the reviews.  And while my hide is pretty darned tough, that very first review (if not glowing) slices into our tender, baby-fresh skin.   That's when you realize that being a writer is the best choice ever, because your author friends/critique partners/beta readers, etc. start to circle the wagons to buffer the blow of a less than stupendous review of your baby.  That's the benefit of being part of this amazing, giving, wonderful group of people.  We all want to see each other succeed, and as far as my industry friends go, they would more often than not drop whatever they're doing if any one of us needed something.  And a first review that stings?  The wagons start to circle and we form a supportive link that takes the sting out of almost anything that threatens our tender egos.

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