There’s Something about the Library

Shelves of books both calm and energize me. I’m surrounded by the words of other authors. It’s like walking through a forest of stories.

We have two libraries in our home, and yet I rarely write in them. One is fairly open, and the kids will traipse through. Hard to concentrate. The other resides in our guest bedroom, where my wife often works. That means I do my writing in our bedroom, sitting on our bed.

I think I need to change that.

Right now I’m sitting in our nearest public library. My wife and our youngest daughter are in storytime. I don’t usually accompany them. I stay home getting work done. But here, surrounded once again by books but not distracted by the trappings of my own home, I’m getting so much more writing done.

I’m here about once a week. Our oldest son participates in a teen D&D club that meets here. I’ll bring him and set up my laptop in one of the open work areas. Even though it’s often noisier than my bedroom, I concentrate so much better. It shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m surrounded by books. My writing speed will routinely close to double.

And all that tells me that perhaps, if I want to up my output, I need to change where I’ve been writing. There’s something about the library.

It’s kind of amazing to me that I’m still learning ways to do my writing better!

How about you? Have you found certain places are better for your creativity? Do you do better in public or private?

Just What I Needed…

So I hate my son.

Lately I’ve dabbled with cozy fantasy, and I’ve really enjoyed it. Legends and Lattes has made the rounds as a good book. My wife got it for me for Christmas. And its tone and setting were just perfect. It’s exactly what I needed!

If you don’t know the book, here’s what you need to know about it: An orc adventurer retires and opens up a coffee shop.

That’s it. That’s the book.

High fantasy. Low stakes.

That’s the tagline. And it works.

So I was talking to my son about the book and how much I enjoyed it. I’ve also recently enjoyed a comic series about a retired adventurer running a tavern, and just backed a Kickstarter campaign with a similar premise.

And my boy goes, “Why don’t you write a book like that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know enough about coffee or taverns.”

“So what about writing about a book shop in a fantasy setting?”

It’s not the book I was planning to write. It’s not like I need more ideas. We’re planned out for the next five years for projects.

That said, I’m far enough ahead on what needs to be written, that even with last month being a dud in my writing schedule, I can set aside some time to just write something for fun. Not what has to be written. Not the next book in a series. Just a novel just for me.

Well, assuming it’s any good, I’ll clean it up and send it out into the world.

But this has been a breath of fresh air. I’ve been writing it more slowly than others, but I think that’s simply the pace of this particular story.

So it’s my son’s fault, putting another story idea in my head. And so it goes.

Let’s see where this leads…

Well, that didn’t last long…

Every month, I said. Every month I’d draft a piece of fiction. That’s what I pledged to do in 2023.

Well, January’s about done.

…

Sigh.

So, I had two projects to complete for writing this month. I was going to outline the next six-book series.(No, no spoilers yet!) I’ve… kind of done that. It needs more work, but outlines now exist. I was also going to draft a novella, one last piece for Madelyn of the Sky. And that… well, I have two pages written.

Woo.

So, what happened?

Continue reading “Well, that didn’t last long…”

I don’t want to be an author anymore.

When I was young, I wanted to write books. I wanted to be an author. The word was almost magical. Imagine, someday having a book with my name on it. Oh, that would be a dream come true!

And I gotta tell you… it is. I currently have five novels on the market, and plenty more on the way. I’m creating worlds, and people are joining me in those worlds. It’s the best job in the world. I want to do it full time.

I don’t want to be an author anymore.

I am an author.

I don’t have to focus on becoming. I already am. And that… is hard to get through my skull.

See, it’s not something I have to work to attain. I am an author. I’ve got published books. People buy them. No, I’m no bestseller. I can’t support my family with my unique combinations of sentences yet. I’m working toward that.

But… I’m already an author. I don’t have to become it. I am it.

This last week, I sold some books at a small conference. A person approached me. “Are you a writer?”

“Yes,” I responded. Confident. I didn’t need to think about it. I’m not trying to be a writer. I don’t have to work to become one. I am one. Already.

And—um—brain. Broken.

This is important. I’ve read pitches from writers: “I want to be a writer!”

Guess what? You wrote a book. You’re already a writer. Tell me about the story, not about you. No offense, I want to know what the book’s about before I buy it. If who you are informs the book—like, your book’s about an alien invasion from inside of books, and you burned books to save humanity, well, I’m interested. Otherwise, tell me about the book.

But if I’m an author already, if I carry myself as someone who has told a story that is worthy of other people’s time, they’re more likely to be interested.

“This book is full of adventure. It’s about Madelyn of the Sky. She fights for people that others would rather forget. She’s snarky and fun and uses a blade and her wit. Oh, and she has magic powers she doesn’t understand. She fights dragons and flying pirates and princes and… oh, just check it out.”

I’m not focusing on becoming. Just look at the book. Do you see? It’s good.

So I don’t want to be an author anymore.

I already am an author. I don’t want for something I already have.

I’m an author.