First week of the New Year has come and gone, and I have yet to spend much time thinking about it. I have a good excuse (don’t we all). I’ve been out west the last few weeks, spending holidays with my new grandson. He manufactures enough drool in one day to fill a 55-gallon drum and I find the experience somewhat fascinating. Has to be a cottage eco-industry here somewhere.
I’m not much of a resolution person, but I’d be lying if I didn’t think about a need to hit the refresh button. Last year found me spending way too much time on social media, and not enough time on the reason I showed up in the first place, writing stories. Upside, I am slowly building a twitter following of like-minded individuals, my blog is attracting more followers every month, though Pinterest has become the equivalent of social media crack. I’ve learned more this past year with respect to the craft. Be surprised how much we think we know, but don’t. And to throw a few marbles on the hardwood floor beneath our feet, the industry continues to evolve, with heavy influences of Darwinism in which established species grow stronger and organisms able to uniquely specialize, inherit the earth.
The past two years, I resolved to finally get published. After popping out a few good yarns and lassoing a fine agent who remarkably still believes in me, the wizard of publishing Oz is still looking for that damned broom, and the hot air balloon that promised to bring me home is lying deflated on the ground like all those plastic Santa’s littering front lawns. This Dorothy has a few things to work on before Glinda agrees to bop me with her wand.
Many friends and colleagues think I should go indie. Couldn’t be any easier in today’s times. Amazon practically makes it hands-free. Self–publishing support businesses are prolific “As Seen on TV” ads on late night programming. They have apps for it. Last time I rode down to indie-ville to see how it’s going, I ran into a locust swarm of biblical proportions. Where did they all come from? Who sent them? How do I floss it from my teeth?
It’s a sign that I’m still a work in process. All those returned manuscripts with “imaginative story, pretty good,” really means “not good enough”. Need to slap that hard hat on, put on the day glow hazard jacket, and get my ass back out there. Might to need to contract a few new critique partners.
- Write, write, write. There is a reason trees produce so many nuts. Most end up in the food chain, but a few make it to a tree.
- Write better, and with good intention, remembering it’s about the story, not just being heard.
- Finish what I’ve started. I’m notorious for rewriting old stuff, while cranking out a new project. Multitasking has proved to be more distractive than I can handle.
- Stay close to my agent. Embrace the Yoda that she is, and listen for once.
- Attend Social Media Rehab. Structure it to enhance finding a potential target audience, not splatter blast the internet like invisible dark matter.
I head back to the solitary writing cave in early February. Like superheroes in need of an energy charge, my bodily levels of radon from the basement office has dwindled to critical levels.
What’s your list for 2015 look like?
While you’re working on that answer, my grandson has already soaked the drool cloth, and I have to go find a dry one.