by Janis Patterson
I love writing. I love the excitement of creating my own
world, my own people, and my own story. Writing is perhaps the most wonderful
fun anyone can have.
Unfortunately there is a lot more to being a writer than
writing, and therein lies danger, for me at least.
I admit I’m somewhat slapdash. I will write three, maybe
even four novels before I even think about publishing them. That’s one of the
many, many reasons I am now self-publishing almost exclusively. I don’t like
bending my schedules to the dicta of others. Never have, which accounts for my
erratic and somewhat colorful employment history. However – if one is going to
sell books, one must have them out there, which means doing a certain amount of
non-writing work.
And that’s my problem. Currently I have two novels to put
out this month (a gothic romance, THE HOUSE IN THE PINES) and a traditional
mystery (MURDER IN DEATH’S WAITING ROOM), another traditional mystery which is
fully edited and needs only to be laid out the way I want so it can go to the
formatter (MURDER AND MISS WRIGHT), and another gothic romance needing a little
rewriting and polishing before entering the publishing pipeline (THE MASTER OF
MORECAMBE HALL).
I am also a couple of weeks late starting the new novel, a
Western romance that is as yet untitled.
And I do want to start writing so very badly – but I’ve made a rule that
I don’t start a new book while in the midst of editing, etc. I’ll have four
books going at once in the writing stage, but the publishing takes too much
concentration and I do them one at a time. Oh, and totally aside from
writing/publishing I have a family and a life that also take time.
So that’s where it begins. I hate having to do things I
don’t feel like doing (yes, I am spoiled – always have been) and it’s amazing
how many non-writing things simply HAVE to be done. The car needs servicing. There’s a
Matterhorn of laundry accumulating. The dog has a vet appointment. I have a
doctor’s appointment. The Husband wants my special pot roast for supper.
There’s the yard, and the dusting constantly lies in wait, though it’s not true
I could bring in a fair crop on top of the bookcases in the parlor…
See what I mean? Entropy. Once I start side-stepping, it
gets easier to side-step, more and more doesn’t get done and it gets harder and
harder to catch up.
So I have discovered a solution. Cheat. Last night while The
Husband watched TV I sat at my desk and stared back at the basilisk glare of my
computer, accomplishing nothing. I didn’t want to accomplish anything except go
sit by The Husband and split a bag of popcorn while watching some mindless cop
show. Instead I could not restrain myself and started on my Western romance.
The words just spilled from my fingers in a joyous flood and my spirits began
to lift. All of a sudden sitting at the computer seemed fun once more. I was
working again.
And my decision was made. I am going to spend part of each
day writing, no matter what other publisher-related chores need to be done. The
hard part will be stopping, but I’m sure I can do that and go on to the other
stuff. At least, I think I can. Discipline has never been easy for me. But
we’ll see. I’ll let you know how it turns out.
