Funny how life gets in the way sometimes, huh? I guess I don't really have any excuses since technically I'm not working right now, nor have I been since last January. I say "technically" because while I don't have a full-time job that I officially have to show up for every day, I am in fact writing full time. Just not on this blog, obviously.
My first novel came out a year-ago last month. My second novel came out in November. My third novel would be out now, but I'm in the running for a major publishing deal so I'm holding onto it until I know something for sure.
Since my first book came out, I've been inundated with friends, acquaintances, even strangers who have all given me the same, "I've always wanted to write a book. You did it, so I'm going to write one too." I don't even know how to respond to this. Part of me wants to be offended, and another part of me is flattered in that whole "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" way. My response made me question why I would take this negatively. Normally I try to think the best of people, and I always want to encourage people to follow their dreams. Then it hit me. Most of the people who have approached me with their oh-so-logical "well, you did it, so I know I can too" attitude haven't had the lifelong dream of writing a book. It's a whim. Nothing more. I guess that's what upset me. Because, trust me, it has been a lifelong dream of mine to become a writer. It's almost as if they're implying that my dream has little worth because it is so easy to achieve. (Yes, I know this is my overactive imagination hard at work. I don't think anyone really thinks this deep down.)
I started preparing for this in primary school. I decided I would make my own greeting cards. From there I started writing plays for my barbie dolls to act out. As I got older, I began writing short stories, skits, and such for school. At 12 I was making feature films with my parents' VHS recorder (you know the huge ones that have to rest on your shoulder). My sister and cousins played the starring roles, the supporting cast were our cabbage patch kids.
Once I made it to junior high and high school, there was no denying - I was a writer. Friends would commission short stories from me as keepsakes. My parents allowed me to attend a writing seminar at our local college. I was the youngest person in attendance and received a number of funny looks from my college-aged fellow attendees. I still managed to make a good impression on the author leading the seminar who told me to "keep it up." In high school, I was lucky enough to be included in a round-table discussion with none other than Maya Angelou. At the time I was too starstruck to form any intelligible questions, but the experience was worth so much to me.
My senior year of high school I was given a choice - take AP calculus and be assured to make it into the top 10 of my class, or take creative writing and be downgraded to top 25. I figured it's all just numbers (both calculus and my graduating position) so I signed up for creative writing. During the year I wrote and illustrated a children's book, wrote short stories on a weekly basis and learned the art of critiquing other writers. The lessons were invaluable. I also began entering essay-writing contests on top of my ever-growing mountains of homework.
When selecting my college, I took stock of all the universities that had so kindly offered me scholarships. A number even wanted me for their honors programs. The final decision wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. University of Arkansas had one of the top creative writing departments in the country. Decision made. (The fact that it was close to home also helped out too.)
I enrolled as an English and journalism double major with an emphasis on creative writing. Yes, the course work made it the equivalent of triple-majoring. I didn't care. I worked my ass off and learned so much from those most esteemed professors. I made the Dean's list during my hardest semester. I earned the only compliment one professor had ever been known to give during my fiction workshop. I wrote a play during another class which was produced and performed at the university theater. My journalism professors trusted me enough to refer me to any newspaper in the country. Too bad I had decided against the newspaper path. Creative writing was calling my name.
Since graduating I've never stopped writing. I've written film/literary/music reviews for an online newsgroup as well as my local paper. I wrote two sitcom pilots for Bravo. (Neither was produced, but I wrote them and am still proud of them.) I write two blogs. I've got at least 4 more novels planned for the near future and I belong to a group of fellow novelists who I can go to when I need help, motivation, critiquing, or just a good swift kick in the butt.
So, as you can see, I've done the leg work. I know writing. I understand it. Writing and me, we go way back. I'm never further than about ten feet from my Strunk & White. I'm not saying someone shouldn't write a book just because they didn't major in English. Some of our greatest works wouldn't exist if that were the case. Just know that when you approach me with the attitude that what I've accomplished in my life was easy, it hurts, and it's certainly not true. For my friends who have started down their own paths as writers and are taking it seriously, you know what I mean! It ain't easy!
And on a much happier note, I give you my dream shoe...I figure I achieved my dream of becoming a novelist, maybe someday I can achieve the dream of owning these babies.
Yes, the Manolo Blahnik Sedaraby D'Orsay in silver, with the 4" heel, not the 3 1/2".Let's just take a moment to bask in its glory.
*sigh*
*drool*
*longer sigh*
*touches the screen longingly*
Their story:
If shoes were a religion, these would be the Holy Spirit. They're enigmatic. They inspire. They shine. Oh, look at how they shine.
So, if any of you, my loyal, beautiful, lovely, terribly intelligent readers has an extra...oh...$800 laying around, I accept paypal, Visa, Mastercard, American Express, Discover, Diner's Club, cashier's check, regular check, money orders, cash, pennies... I thank you in advance.
Stepping off my shoebox,
Jenmac
