This Is Not That Age

Dear Loyal Type M Reader. Shelley Burbank here on this lovely Friday afternoon, writing from Guam. 

I hope your January has gone okay. I know that doesn't sound very optimistic/enthusiastic, but the way things are going lately, it feels like the best we can hope for is "I'm okay. Are you okay? Do you need any support? Hugs? A giant glass of Chardonnay?" 

I'm okay. 

I was able to successfully upload my novella files to Amazon KDP. I've been wishy-washy about the idea of self-publishing, but I figured this 100-page mystery would be a good test of my ability to assimilate to the publishing landscape circa 2026. Dear Reader, I managed, and I'm happy to report that Strawberry Moon Mystery is officially visible on Amazon, available to pre-order, and the publication date is set for January 28! 

This is a mock-up of a Facebook ad that may end up as a post because . . . Facebook.

This entire Strawberry Moon operation is an experiment in self-publishing AND seeing if offering a shorter story at a lower price will tempt new readers to give Olivia Lively a chance to delight them. I'll keep you all posted on how it plays out for me as I do some but not a ton of marketing. My Facebook ad account is a whole 'nother topic. I made the graphic above using Canva. Facebook is giving me a bit of trouble because of my living in Guam. I just can't go into it right now. I don't have the fortitude. I'm tired of talking [whining] about Big Tech.

But I Have Something Good to Share Here

Sometimes I feel as if I'm being a "Debbie Downer" about the writing life, even though my motivation is to offer clarity, honesty, and realism about the state of publishing right now. I realize that my writer friends out there are all-too aware of the literary landscape, so I'm realizing maybe no one needs to hear me yammer on about it. 

Happily, there's something good that I'd like to share. With all this craziness going on in the industry right now and with me wondering, like SO MANY writers, if there is even a point of pursuing publication, I came to a realization: Even if nothing big ever comes of my writing and publishing life, I am GLAD, at nearly 60 years old, that I spent my life writing. It has been my passion for as long as I can remember. It's given me a focus to my life and so many hours of pleasurable work/practice that I can't be sorry I spent all the hours I did. I've also enjoyed meeting other writers, being part of the community. We learn with and from each other, and I'd like to take that to the next level in my remaining years. 

The biggest takeaway from all this is that I have no intention of stopping, even if there's nothing more in it for me than putting my work up on Amazon and ordering some Print On Demand copies for my own bookshelves. 

In other words, I'm once again approaching writing as an art and a craft, not a paying career. I'm giving up that dream. Artists create, even if no one "buys" it or admires it. Artisans create and strive for perfection, even if there's no real market for the pieces offered. 

For a long, long time I thought this was a cop-out attitude. "It's okay to write for pleasure" seemed like a phrase someone who wasn't serious about the writing craft or didn't have enough talent to succeed would throw out there. Now, I'm embracing this idea again, the writing for pleasure idea, only with one  important (I believe) caveat--storytellers need listeners, and listeners deserve the respect of our best efforts. 

It's not enough to write simply for our own pleasure. We should write with the reader in mind, even if that means one reader. Or two. Or a few hundred. In other words, we should still take our work seriously, the way any serious artist approaches their work, the blank paper, the mound of unformed clay, the musical notes dotting the staff lines, the wool in its raw and unspun state. 

Understanding I am part of a story-telling tradition stretching back thousands of years gives me pride and meaning and hope. It also adds a bit of pressure. Knowing I'm not working to SELL but rather to CREATE, I want to bring beautiful, meaningful books and stories into the world. Not just another throwaway, skim it and toss it, same old-same old book. Not some AI slop. I'm not saying my two novels are throwaways. These books did challenge me in the writing, they do have some thematic elements of which I'm happy, and they are written in a style that doesn't embarrass me. They are solid, decent genre fare. 

But is that the best I can do?

I don't think so. I think the books and the novella are the best I could do at the time, but now I'm excited to stretch even further, and with my new resolve, I can move forward now without having to worry about "writing to market" and current trends and all that jazz we are forced to consider when we actually think we can make money on this gig. 

In other words, I'm free. 

I've given up the stupid capitalist dream of making money from my writing. Yes, I said it. I've always believed in capitalism, but I'm beginning to feel the love of money IS the root of all evil. Some people DO succeed in having a paying career, but it's getting so much harder that honestly? I'd rather go back to worrying about craft and art and a solid style and having something to say...instead of marketing and PR and everything that goes along with trying to exchange story for dollar bills. 

Is This Failure Talking?

Have I simply failed? Maybe. Maybe I should care what everyone else (including you) thinks, but sorry. I don't. 

What I've learned--and what so many publishing insiders and professionals are talking about lately--is that I grew up smack at the apex of the "Golden Age of Publishing," a time when publishing houses gave out decent advances, nourished their authors' careers, and readers gobbled up books like candy. 

This is not that age.

The world has moved on, as Stephen King says in his Dark Tower series. The publishing world has moved on, the wheel has turned, and that is okay. 

I hope that by sharing my new resolve and outlook, others who may be feeling the same about the writing life and their chances of "making it" in this industry will be heartened or even inspired to continue the pursuit of the craft of creative writing, not for money or fame, but for joy of the craft and respect of the reader. Let's focus on crafting the most excellent books and stories and forget about sales and popularity.

Rediscovering the Joy of Writing

 

Happy Friday! Shelley here, once again, from Guam where I'm finding inspiration in the oddest places, like this moldering, broken balustrade overlooking the ocean from high atop a cliff covered in tangled vegetation and littered with trash--beverage containers, plastic bags, tattered towels, even a computer screen coming apart at the seams. 

There must be a story here at the end of the narrow path winding through the overgrown lot. A former resort hotel? Or the vacation compound of a wealthy Japanese family destroyed in some long-ago typhoon? I could probably research and find out, but I'm not sure I want to. I'd much rather imagine. 

Often there's a strange beauty in the broken things. A piquant nostalgia for what once was and could have been. An acknowledgment of a particular failure and the world and life moving on just the same. 

JOY 

Conflict--external or internal--is the heart of story. We put our characters through the proverbial wringer, squeezing the emotions from their arcs, pinning them up to dry on the narrative clothesline where they once again take shape, billowy like sheets or white, button-down shirts. They come off the line at the end of the day smelling like sunshine and grass with a faint, clean whiff of Ivory soap.

In our own creative journeys, we writers and artists also find ourselves conflicted. We are dumped into crucibles of our own making or of someone else's. The heat's turned up. We're bashed around. At this point, we must either adapt, change, or (metaphorically) die. 

I recently went through an intense period of creative questioning, searching, and ultimately changing, fueled by reflection on the last several years which involved publication of two novels; social media engagement and marketing; disappointing royalty statements; learning how to use a graphic design app for making marketing materials like headers, social media images, and reels; an experiment with Facebook ads (these worked but I disliked the process); wrangling with an expensive website that required coddling and fixes too often for my liking; and countless hours reading and listening and studying and watching "experts" on the topics related to "selling your books" and the publishing industry in general.

My conclusions? Marketing makes me miserable. A creative life doesn't have to be this hard. A mailing list is key. The publishing industry is a hard, cold, capitalist business. A really, REALLY good book sells itself by word of mouth. Social media is a dumpster, and it's on fire every single second of every single day. A total waste of time. 

My a-ha moment? When I remembered I got into this because of my love of books and my desire to craft stories. I realized nobody can "beat" me at THIS game, the game of writing (as opposed to the game of publishing.) 

If I continue to write, I win. 

If I continue to learn my craft and improve, I succeed. 

This isn't a unique perspective. We've all heard it before, but when it hits you, really hits you, that you don't care anymore if you ever make a living from your writing, or even if you ever sell another copy of your book, you feel a particular and awesome joy. The joy of creativity, purpose, and play. 

AM I JUST A LOSER?

I know what some of you are thinking (because I've thought it myself about myself and others. Yup. Not proud). People who have failed resort to this sort of thinking to make themselves feel better. 

I nod and say in reply, Yeah. And what's wrong with that? 

Is it more noble to feel terrible every day? Is it more worthwhile to pout and rail about the unfairness of life and publishing? Does it serve creativity to concentrate on failure and despair rather than joy? Is suffering somehow a better, more elevated outcome than happiness? 

How perverted that perspective!

Given the choice, I'll take happiness in my creative life, thank you very much. Publishing's game continues on. Rules change. Someone's gonna "win" and many are gonna "lose," and I'll watch from over here on the sidelines, stoic and detached, while others fight it out. I'd rather concentrate on my craft--something within my control--and revel in this lightness I'm feeling. 

I haven't felt this good about my writing life in several years. I'm listening to podcasts and reading articles on craft not on marketing. I'm enjoying the challenges of narrative structure, of thematic choices, and progressive plot complications. I'm about to rip my current short story to pieces and start all over again, and I DON'T CARE how long it takes me to get it right.

So, if you are struggling with these same dilemmas and are feeling like all this marketing and social media and striving are sucking the joy out of your creativity, consider setting all that aside, at least for now, and focusing just on the work for awhile. 

When you've finished something, send it out and see if anyone bites. Then forget about it and get back to the page . . . where the joy lives. 

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For more on creativity, purpose, and nurturing a creative life, check out my once-per-month, free newsletter, PINK DANDELIONS. This month's issue is below. Click to read. 

And So It Begins

Happy New Year, one and all!

I hope your New Year's Eve was as pleasant as mine (spent quietly with friends, eating and playing board games). I stayed up to see the New Year in and then went off to bed, grateful to have gotten through another year that brought me a bit closer to my goals and hoping that the world will be a better, safer, kinder place for all us in 2016. But my Type M colleagues have already written eloquently about that.

I do want to pick up a thread that Rick began – New Year's resolutions. I used to have a long list, categorized in order of importance (A,B,C) and even broken down into “do-able tasks”.  I still like the idea of thinking about what it is that I really want to achieve. And breaking each goal down into small tasks that I can act on does get me up and moving when I'm overwhelmed by the enormity or complexity of what I want to achieve. As I have been working on my non-fiction book, thinking about the tasks (what I need to know and where to find that information) has kept me on track. Remembering my goal – to finish the book – has kept me from wandering off and spending another year or two reading about topics that intrigue me but that are only marginally relevant to this particular book. Remembering that this book is a top priority (an A rather than a C goal) has kept me from pushing it aside and working on something else that would be easier and less demanding of my time and effort.

My old strategy for making New Year's resolutions has something to be said for it. But what I have realized after many efforts to make and keep a long list of resolutions is that I should give attention to the few that will bring me to the end of the year feeling good about who I am both as a writer and a person. One resolution that I make each year is to treat my body better – more healthy food and less sugar, more exercise and fewer long sessions in front of the computer when the only part of my body moving is my fingers. This resolution – never fully achieved and subject to numerous lapses during each year – is the one that makes me feel hopeful each new year when I get a “start over” and distressed and annoyed with myself when I realize at the end of the year that I'm still human and imperfect. In 2015, I learn to love Brussels sprouts, but I ended the year by munching my way through numerous candy canes.

This year, my top resolution is to be more tolerant of my imperfections. I will continue to work on eating more fruits and veggies and getting up from desk and out the door to walk – or at least getting in my 30 minutes of aerobics before I sit down at my desk. I will walk down the hall at work to fill my environmentally friendly water bottle and I will drink that water even though I don't love it because being semi-dehydrated affects ones ability to think. I will be gentle with myself on those days and nights when I go to bed late, eat poorly, and get no exercise at all.

Under this heading of being more tolerant of my imperfections, I will also remember to treat my envy with respect. Here, I'm referring to the envy that most of us (unless we are saints) feel toward those who seem to have what we want. I will remember that even though I feel twinges of envy when I look on the success of other writers who make the bestsellers lists, receive nominations and awards, have their books made into films and television series, and gets recognized when they stop to admire the display of their books in airport bookstores – I will remember that the best use of my very human envy is to think about how I define success and what I am willing to do or give up to achieve it. After careful consideration, I'm pretty sure I don't want people to recognize me when I'm walking through an airport, but I wouldn't mind spotting my book in an airport bookstore or seeing someone reading my book on a plane. I'd like an Edgar (maybe two, one for fiction and another for nonfiction) and I'd like to make the New York Times bestseller list. And although I intend to market smarter in 2016, I will continue to focus on writing better because I believe quality is important.

My second resolution: I will learn to clip my cat Harry's nails. Or, rather, I will become better at persuading Harry to allow me to clip his nails. I'm up to two or three nails at a time now. I will get to one paw at a time before the year is over. This may seem a low-value resolution, but it is important. Harry likes to sit on my lap, especially when I'm sitting in front of my computer. When his nails grow too long, I am pricked when he jumps from the floor or steps from the desk onto my lap. I am pricked again when he stretches his paw up to touch my neck. This is a sign of feline affection – and Harry's love of stretching (a habit I am trying to emulate) – but it has sent me to my collection of casual, at-home-tops with high collars when I don't have the time to try to clip nails and no visit from his pet sitter or to the vet is upcoming. Besides, clipping his nails myself will save me a bit of money. And, as much as I love him, avoiding being scratched by my cat may keep me healthier. So I will work on my nail clipping technique.

Resolved:  This year, I will be more tolerant of my failures and celebrate even small successes. I will give myself more credit for what I'm trying to achieve and less scorn when I sometimes stumble.

Cheers!