Tag Archive | writing

Writing a Book is Hard

I wrote this thing, this book-type thing. It’s a memoir of my years in retail management, and I’ve been working on it for over five years now. Today, I finished it. I’ve done all I can do by myself. I’ve written, re-written, re-organized, cut and pasted and added and deleted. I’ve read it and re-read it, had a few people read early versions that bear little resemblance to the manuscript now sitting beside me. And I think it’s done. I mean, of course, it’s not DONE done. I’m sure there will be more edits in the future. But I feel good about it (as good as one can feel about their own writing). It FEELS done. I think the major revisions are done, and now it’ll be tweaking to take out boring sections, flesh out good sections, building up the themes. For that, I need people.

My husband will be first, and I know he will be supportive and encouraging, and gentle in his suggestions. I’ve got a former co-worker in mind too, to make sure I wasn’t unfairly harsh or critical of our team. She’s a smart, well-read woman whom I trust to be honest but kind. And then I need someone who’s not related to me and who wasn’t part of that retail world, and I’m still pondering that. How do you find a good beta reader?

Then, I have to figure out what steps to take next. It would seem that memoirs are hard to sell, based on what I’ve read from agents. They need to be exceptional, and I’m not convinced I am, or that my story is. I’m a good writer, but does this story stand out? Why would a reader pick my book? What would they get from it? Is my story different enough from so many others? Would an agent even consider me without a strong platform? What the heck IS a platform anyway?

I’m still trying to find answers to those. And I’m pondering self-publishing too. It would be quicker, and I know that most of my former co-workers would love to read it. But I can’t help it: there’s a part of me that wants the validation of traditional publication. It would mean that someone out there valued my writing, thought it was worthy of sharing with the world. But why does that matter to me? Why can’t my own opinion be enough? Because I’ve seen too many self-published books that should never have been published, and I don’t want people to put me in that category.

So I’m going to find the list of memoir-friendly agents that I made, and I’m going to start researching. What do I lose by trying? (I mean besides my self-esteem and confidence.) Maybe I’ll get rejected 100 times, and then I’ll reconsider self-publishing. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll find that one agent who thinks it’s worthy. Wouldn’t that be something?

A Literary Evening, and a Hat

Sep30

So last night, I got to hang out with a best-selling author. No biggie, right? Ha! Many years ago, my mom started writing to Nancy Thayer, who writes women’s fiction and has now written more than 20 books and whose latest, The Guest Cottage, was one of Huffington Post’s favorite beach books. Well, through those letters, a friendship grew. It helps that Nancy has some family locally, so she comes through our area periodically. A while back, she invited my mom to come to an alumni event at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, and since Mom doesn’t drive and I love Nancy’s books too, I got to tag along.

The reception was first, full of people who already seemed to know each other. Nancy recognized Mom immediately and gave her a big hug; I got a hug too, after a quick, awkward “do we shake hands or do we hug” moment. We chatted for a few minutes, then left so she could work the room. After that, we moved to the auditorium to listen to a conversation with Nancy and a local journalist/writer. That was fun too, but the best part came after. Nancy had invited us to join her afterward for drinks, so we got to party with the author! We were with one of her old friends, who was delightful, and another couple who had driven five hours to meet Nancy. Nancy’s nephew joined us too, and I found out he’s a musician, working with a band and recording an EP. His name is Andrew Foshee and he’s a singer/songwriter with a great folky sound. He’s got a few songs on iTunes now, and I’m looking forward to hearing his new music.

It was just a really fun night talking with smart, interesting people about books and music and life, and I realized I don’t do that very often. And I think I should. Maybe not every weekend, but more than I do right now.

And in between, I’ll keep knitting. I worked on this hat last night during the reception and finished it this morning. Funny story about this one: I got carried away last night and just kept knitting, so the body of the hat was 7″ instead of 6″, which meant that this morning I played a scary game of Yarn Chicken. I won, but it was too close for comfort! I won’t try to repeat that. One of the cool things about this pattern is that it’s reversible. The “wrong” side looks like a nifty seed stitch pattern.But I still prefer the “right” side.This is the Slouchy Broken Rib Hat and it’s one of my favorites.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go shelve my newly-signed Nancy Thayer books!

Grief Takes Away So Much

Aug30

This morning, as I lazed on the couch with my cup of tea, I was idly scrolling through Twitter when a tweet caught my eye. “It didn’t surprise me, when my parents were dying, that I couldn’t write. But it shocked me…that I couldn’t read.” It was a teaser with a link to a NY times column, and it was so unexpected, and so close to home.

Four years ago, I was working full-time as a retail manager, but I was also a bookaholic. I read as much as I could. I’d grown up with books, worked in my mother’s used-book store for years, even went to a seminar for antiquarian book dealers. And even though I was no longer in the business, I still loved books. All kinds of books. My parents and I shared a lot of authors, too, mostly mysteries/thrillers. We shared Ridley Pearson, Carol O’Connell, Philip Margolin, Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, Kathy Reichs, Linda Fairstein, and so many more. I shared a lot of fiction with my mom: Maeve Binchy, Nancy Thayer, Elin Hilderbrand, Kristin Hannah.

Then, as many of you know, my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. I still worked, but managed to get out to Arizona for a few visits. I remember one trip, on the way there, I read my first Lee Child book. Lee Child was my dad’s absolute favorite author, and he’d said this book was the best. I read it, and it was thrilling and gripping and tense, and I had a grand time talking to my dad about it when I got there.

My dad died in spring of 2012, and I stopped reading. For a very long time, I didn’t really read anything. I watched a lot of TV, I played stupid games on my phone. I learned to crochet a few months after my dad died, and that was my outlet. Then knitting. It was creative and soothing, and didn’t remind me of him at all.

Over time, I started picking up books again. My mom and I still share a fondness for fiction, and we swapped what we called “light, frothy books”. They were fun, didn’t require much thought, didn’t challenge me or push any of those grief buttons. I’m so glad I had you, Jane Green and Emily Giffin, Sophie Kinsella and Susan Wiggs, Debbie Macomber. I still love you, still read you all religiously.

I shared some YA books with my daughter. I’ve always loved YA books, and even though these were often darker subject matter, it was okay because it was different. Thank you, Sarah Dessen, Rainbow Rowell, Laurie Halse Anderson, Veronica Roth, Suzanne Collins.

After a couple of years, I started reading heavier books again, ones that made me think and cry and feel extreme emotions, and it was good. And just the other day, the boy and I went to the library, and I came home with six books, and I plowed through five of them within a week. It felt marvelous to fall into books like that again, to get that feeling of utter escape, that feeling where you close the book and you’re still thinking about the characters hours later.

For so long, I wrapped myself in the soft cushion of yarn crafts, and it saved me. I still love it, still knit more than I read, probably. But I think I’m at a point where there’s more of a balance. I can be a knitter AND a reader. A yarnaholic AND a bookaholic.

But I still can’t read mysteries. Well, no. I take that back; I’ve read a few. Harlan Coben is still a favorite. But they’re few and far between. I’ve never read another Lee Child book. I have an O’Connell and two Fairsteins in my To-Be-Read stash, and I pick them up periodically, read the description, and put them back. They’re too dark. There’s too much pain and anger and ugliness in those worlds. And of course, they still remind me of my dad. I think I’ll get back to them, someday. Until then, there’s still a whole wide world of books to explore, and I’m so relieved that I could find my way back to it.

What I Can’t Show You

May5

I’ve got a lot of secret knitting going on. I’ve finished a baby present, but I can’t show you yet. I’m making good progress on my sister’s project bag, but I can’t show you that either. I frogged my light gray mesh scarf and restarted it with fewer stitches and bigger needles, but I don’t have enough knit to make it worth taking a photo. Lots of knitting, but no proof!

What I can share is that I pulled up my memoir manuscript the other day and started reading through it. I was pleasantly surprised: it’s much closer to being “done” than I remembered. I made it about halfway through and was really only making minor changes. The not so pleasant part: now I’m convinced it’s terrible and boring and no one could ever possibly find it interesting. The cycles of writing, right? I think I’ve just reached a point where I need to find an unbiased reader to tell me what’s working and what’s not. So I’ll plow through the second half and figure out where to go from there. All you other writers out there, where/how do you find a good beta reader or critique partner?

Until I figure that out, it’s back to the couch I go with my ~~little~~ big furry friends. I’ll do some proofreading, a bit of knitting. I’ve discovered Gilmore Girls, which I’ve never seen before, and I’m loving it. It’s fabulous knitting TV. The husband’s not a fan, though, so I’ll try to keep it to daytime bingeing. These two don’t complain!

Time for a Break

Apr28

Saturday was craft show day. It was from 10-4 and it was in a more affluent part of town, with the promise of lots of shopping moms. I had a friend with me and she helped me create a more compelling table display than I’d done the last couple of shows. My hopes were high. Oh, and did you notice, I played with my hair again? Apparently I’m no longer a natural blond (I know, who knew?) so I’m trying to grow out all the processed stuff and find my real color. I had some leftover bleached blonde, so my fabulous hairdresser MIL gave me teal tips. Love them! Of course, my own mother’s reaction was different: “What happened to your hair??” LOL. Can’t win ’em all, right?

Anyway, yeah, I thought the table looked good. I had a selection of bags and lightweight spring hats, as well as spring mesh scarves and some cute baby hats. Too bad people decided they didn’t want to attend this show. It was slow all day long. I had three super wonderful friends from my old Coldwater Creek days show up, and that was such a treat. Plus they bought a couple of things! Other than that, I had ONE sale. Sigh. There just wasn’t much traffic. One vendor packed up and left at 1:30. But I did make table, and I had fun with my friends, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

It also clarified something for me: I’m slowing down on shows for now. It seems clear that spring/summer months are not good for the kind of things I love to make, and I don’t want to completely change my crafting outlook to cater to that. Plus, I was stressed out before these last two shows. I was worried about whether I’d have enough stuff, or whether it was the “right” stuff, and I felt guilty working on anything for myself or my family. That’s not what I want my knitting life to be, and I’m so grateful that I have the ability to step back. So for now, I’ll be knitting for fun. I’m still going to work on my Etsy shop, and I’ll still do the Etsy at the Exchange events when I can, but no more paid craft shows for now. I’m signed up for a big one in October and I might just let that be the next one.

I had another epiphany of sorts over the weekend, too. Another Creek friend, Terri, invited me to a dinner theater show, and we had a marvelous time catching up. We hadn’t talked one on one in ages, but she said she loves to follow along with what I write on Facebook so she felt like we were still close. At one point she asked me about the retail memoir I’d been working on. I’ve been working on that thing for that last four years, I think, and I keep working and leaving it and coming back and leaving again. But Terri’s question, and the fact that she’s not the only one who’s said they’d love to read it, made me realize that I’ve got something going on with this writing thing. No, I’m no literary genius. But I do love it, and I think I do connect with readers sometimes. So I’m bringing writing back into my life, more than just this blog, and I’m going to do my best to finish revising my manuscript. Maybe then I’ll be brave enough to start querying agents, or maybe I’ll just share it with friends and family. Who knows. I think for me, the process is the most important part.

Thanks for listening, friends. I know this was a more introspective post, less fun knitting talk, but I promise, there will be fun stuff in days to come. Still yarn, always yarn, but writing talk too, maybe even manuscript excerpts. And puppy photos, too. Today is Captain Jack, my furry little baseball fan.

Retail Memories: A manuscript snippet

Jul24

This is scary. But I’m going to do it anyway. *deep breath* I spent several years working retail, and my company is closing soon. I’ve been working on a memoir about my retail escapades, and today I thought for Throwback Thursday I would share a little snippet. You meet a lot of customers over seven years and many of them were good. And many were…not. *Please note, names have been changed!*

***

I hate to say it, but when it came to outright rudeness, some of our older customers took the prize. I don’t know if it was the mindset of “I’ve lived this long so I can say what I want”, or if we truly just lose our filter as we age, but there were a lot of insensitive women out there. Sometimes it was a minor snub: ignoring us when we talked to them, using a cold voice to tell us, “No. I don’t need your help.” Sometimes they were flat-out mean, like Martha and Hazel.

These two women (I don’t want to use the word “ladies”) were the bitchiest couple of women I ever had to help. They were friends, probably in their late 70s, and they typically shopped together. Martha had short brown curly hair and a permanent scowl on her face. Hazel was beautiful: gorgeous thick platinum hair, porcelain skin, big eyes, wide smile. She had to have been a knockout when she was young. Hazel was in better health so she drove them to the store. When they were there, they demanded the full attention of at least one associate for their entire visit. Being older, often it was easier for them to call us than come in. If we were really lucky, they would use three-way calling to call us together.

“This is Bonny, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, I need another pair of those pants.”

Of course I knew who it was. We had caller ID on our phone. But the idea that she expected me to know her instantly, and know what pants she was talking about, irked me.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s Martha!” she snapped. “Hazel needs another pair of those jeans she bought!”

At that point, I would hold back my sigh and start looking her up in the computer to try to figure out which pants she was talking about.

“Can you tell me which jeans they were, Martha?”

“The black ones! Hold on, let me get Hazel on the phone.”

By the time Hazel joined us, I was looking through her profile. “Okay, Hazel, you need another pair of the classic waist straight leg in size 16?”

“No no no, I need the petite 16.”

“We don’t have that in the store. You bought the 16. You would have to order the petite and have it sent to you.”

“I don’t think that’s right. I’m sure I bought a petite.”

Martha couldn’t hold it in. “Well, we bought it there the other day!” No you didn’t. “Maybe whoever helped us that day knew how to find things.” Said with contempt and derision. Yep, that was me. “But if you can’t manage to find it, then fine. Order it and send it to her.”

“I can’t do that, Martha. You’ll have to call customer service.”

“Oh no! I’m not doing that! They’ll charge me shipping and there’s no way in hell I’m paying shipping just because you can’t find the right pants!”

Logic and reason were useless. If I tried to tell them that we weren’t allowed to place orders over the phone (which was true and I did try to explain sometimes), one of them (usually Martha) carped that we did it before and they couldn’t always get in the store and they were our best customers.

Resistance was futile. It made it difficult when they called asking for things we didn’t have, items they’d seen in some other store’s ad and were convinced were ours. At least once, Martha insisted that we carried other brand names so of course we would have these pants she’d seen at Macy’s. While we realized part of the problem was honest confusion borne of age and mental decline, their attitudes and the way they spoke to us made it very difficult to be sympathetic.

For a long time, I thought Martha was the ringleader in their antics, since she took charge when they came in. Then one day I helped Hazel when she came in without Martha and realized they just had different styles of bitchiness. Martha was overt, always looking for a fight. Hazel was a queen who expected to be catered to, and would speak with a cutting forcefulness if we didn’t comply with her requests. More often than not, it wasn’t worth the effort to argue with them. We tried our best to anticipate and meet their needs in hopes that they would go peacefully, because in the long run, we knew we would end up doing whatever they wanted.

***

So there you have it. Just one encounter of many. I’d love feedback if you have it. Just be constructive and not cruel, if you don’t mind!

When I grow up, I want to be…

Jul5

I’m so jealous of my husband. Alex actually knows what he wants to be when he grows up. He’s worked for a local software company for over 15 years, but in his heart, he wants to focus on his woodworking and build custom furniture. He’s thinking ahead, trying to plan it out so that it will actually be feasible in the future. But me? It depends on the day, and to be honest, I don’t know what my future will hold, or even what I want it to hold.

I quit my full-time job about two years ago to be a stay-at-home mom. I’d been in retail management for six years and I was beyond burnt out. Add in some family crises, and the job became even less important. We revised our budget, cut back a lot of expenses, and let loose of a lot of stress. It was wonderful–it’s been wonderful–in so many ways. I am beyond grateful that my husband has been willing to let me take this time to focus on family. I’m grateful that my kids have accepted the sacrifices I ask them to make so we can live within our means.

For the first few months, I worked on a book. I’d started a memoir about my retail adventures while I was still working, and I was inspired to finish it while the memories were still fresh. Once (I thought) it was done, my time opened up in front of me. Most people would see it as a huge blessing, and part of me did. But part of me saw it as huge pressure too. Alex and I had talked about my writing, and how this was the best opportunity for me to focus on it. And it was. It is. So why didn’t I revise my book, edit and polish it, and start querying agents?

Fear. Plain and simple.

Rejection is part of writing, every writer knows that. I try to brace myself for it, but it always knocks me down a little. And at that time, I think I knew I wasn’t emotionally strong enough to push through that process.

Now it’s two years later, and I’ve worked on the book a lot more. I’m venturing into the world of writers and agents in social media, and maybe it’s time to take that leap. I could finish this book, maybe find an agent and get it published, or self-publish. I’ve been writing for years, so maybe I could pull out the two completed manuscripts I’ve got in my closet and see if they’re worth revising. I could be a writer when I grow up.

But. Wait. In those two years, I’ve also started doing some freelance proofreading, and I love it. I was a copy editor in both high school and college, and English has always been my strong suit. I read widely and voraciously, and correcting spelling, grammar and punctuation is second nature to me. I love taking another writer’s work and polishing it so it shines. I’ve worked on four books so far and would love to do more. There are a lot of freelance websites out there, and if I put forth the effort to bid on jobs, I could probably make a bit of money from it. And when the kids are a bit older and I don’t need to be home so much, I could find a permanent proofreading position.

Hold on, though. I have a passion for yarn, for crochet and knitting. I have visions of a sunny, friendly yarn store where I could spend my days helping people with their own crafting. Alex and I have talked about a joint venture, a storefront where we have both yarn and furniture displayed for sale. We even have a potential name and we’ve scouted out buildings that would work well.

Picture an end table with a lacy runner decorating it, or a coffee table holding bowls of yarn and vases of handmade wood knitting needles. Picture a mannequin wearing a scarf decorated with a wood scarf pin. It’s a relaxing vision, a happy vision. It would allow Alex and I to spend time together, sharing our love for making beautiful pieces. It would keep me from having to answer to a boss, like I would with a “real” job. The kids could work there too, after school and summers. Maybe the dog would be mellow enough to come to work with me sometimes.

I think of doing this and smile. It would be a hard choice, though, with unreliable income, less time off, not much freedom to be spontaneous. I’d have to learn how to run a business, which isn’t why I would do it. I’d do it to be with yarn and other yarn-lovers, to create a space that’s lacking in my neighborhood.

So what do I do? How do I decide what to focus on? I know I can have all these things in my life to some extent, but I feel like I’m supposed to have a goal. What should I be working toward? How do I figure out which one is my true passion?

It’s all Twitter’s Fault

Mar25

I resisted Twitter for a very long time. I couldn’t see the appeal. I did sign up once and immediately some strange guy wanted to follow me, and that creeped me out. But I kept seeing links with fun tweets, and my husband would sit there and read Twitter and laugh and laugh. Finally, it got to be too much. Fine. I’ll join Twitter, dang it.

Well, hey, did you know there are a bunch of yarn people all over the world on Twitter? I found more everywhere I looked, and they were saying and doing really cool things! Then people started commenting on my tweets, and I discovered you could interact with people! Truly a whole new world, to find all those like-minded people.

But it got even better, because I started following other cool people. I’m a reader and a writer, so I found a lot of awesome authors on Twitter and found out most of them are just real people! Sarah Dessen is one of my favorites because she’s very down to earth and funny. I told a few of the authors when I read and loved their books, and got an immediate response. I got brave enough to start commenting on their tweets, and it was such a thrill when they replied. Think how much cooler it was when a few authors I really admire started following me (ME!) on Twitter! (Thanks, Katherine Center and Elin Hilderbrand and Nanny Diaries girls McLaughlin Kraus, you all rock.)

Twitter was my gateway drug, because next was my Facebook business page for bonnyknits which let me find some customers for my yarn treasures. I went from there to Etsy, and though it’s still a trial effort, I’ve enjoyed it. Somehow from there I ended up with this blog, and between all the social media sites, I’ve connected with so many talented, smart, funny, clever people in so many different fields. I can feed all my different interests and not feel like I have to fit into one specific category.

Sometimes a hobby can make you feel isolated, if those around you just don’t understand, and you can’t find your “people”. I’ve found my people online, and I love it. Now if only I could tear myself away from the fun of it all to get back to my knitting.