|Now Biff, I want two coats of polish on my draft this time!|
Forget everything you know, or think you know, or even might have read on this blog.
Writing is easy.
It’s easily the easiest thing you can do, and the easiest of the easy ways to make money, win friends, influence people and achieve lasting fame.
Writing—If it were any easier they’d have to call it breathing.
Ten years ago, I finished a book—Tears of Heaven. I wrote the last words, hit the save button, and sat back in a beautiful bliss of self-satisfaction that can only be duplicated under the care of medical professionals and strong narcotics. After all, this was the novel that all publishers and agents were looking for when they had to settle for lesser authors.
|Yeah, you deserve a break.|
I had a story, from start to finish. A compelling protagonist, an obstacle for her to overcome, a nice little narrative—beginning, middle, and end. Some friends became enemies, some enemies became friends. At the end the main character was richer from the experience!*
Two-and-a-half years ago, at the urging of my friend (and now editor) Shawn, I submitted Tears of Heaven to Marci Baun, owner of Wild Child Publishing. Bells rang and trumpets sounded when I hit the send button. The skies open, the heavens shouted and angels, literally, began to sing.
That’s how easy writing is. You get an idea, you commit it to paper, you send it off to a publisher and you sit back while the fat cash and awards start rolling in and reviewers everywhere sing your praises.
The only thing missing from this scenario was a print version of the book and a new cover to go with it. Well, friends, fans, and general acquaintances your wait (and mine) is now over. My first novel will be in print and available for purchase from fine book retailers everywhere starting November 19th.
|Updated for your reading pleasure!|
I’d like to say that this is the thrill of my life. That’s I’ve fought, and scratched and struggled and begged and pleaded to get to this point. That I’ve refined my craft, and taken my criticisms along the way. That it was a bumpy, herky-jerky ride where at times it felt like three of the wheels had come loose and I was out of control on a mountainside road with a sheer fall of hundreds of feet just inches away.
I’d like to say that, but that’s not writing. Writing is easy. And it just keeps getting easier.
*Apologies to Stewie Griffin.