Creating art and fiction is a matter of heart.
When I was in high school, I had an AP English teacher I respected, Mr. B. My mother suggested I submit a monologue I had written about the fall season to the local paper, as the end of summer had arrived. I gave it to my most trusted teacher for a review before submitting it. Well Mr. B read my piece and described it as “pointless” and “meaningless.” I wish I still had it today–now that I have stopped giving in to voices like that one.
Unfortunately, I didn’t submit the piece about changing leaves and cool breezes–I deleted it, in fact–and the following week, the paper published a “pointless” and “meaningless” piece of prose about the beauty of fall.
Clearly, my english teacher didn’t understand because if he had–if he had understood anything at all about the student hanging on his every fascinating word in class–maybe he would have dialed back his remarks. He wounded a 16 year old girl, without friends, and whose major joy in life at the time was… writing meaningless things. This was to the tune of dozens of files and folders on my computer for all sorts of creative musings. Books. Characters. Short stories. Even an entire series I planned by the time I graduated. (No, it wasn’t this one, but maybe it will be one day).
Fast forward to all these years later.
By some miracle, I was spared more painful criticism that might have turned me away from the art of writing permanently. And now, I simply don’t entertain opinions that are not motivated to make me a better writer, artist, or human being.
No writing is ever wasted, you used to say. Even if something doesn’t work out and you end up throwing it away, as a writer you always learn something…
Sigrid Nunez
Last night as I took a look at the first thumbnails from my (brilliant) cover artist, I had a thought. To me, this is not “just” my first book. This is a place I went in my head after work to stay sane during COVID. It is a labor of love to build a nuanced magic system and over a dozen detailed character profiles. It is love that would have me rewrite a book entirely from beginning to end, rather than give up on it. It is love that motivates me to put out the money to have the book made Real.
You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby…
A writer creates a novel because they love something about it: the world, the characters, the theme, or the place or time in which it is set. Making a book go from in your head and planned to 90,000 words worth of physical paper with a cover and a price tag makes a dream a tangible thing. The process has made my book Real.
…But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.
–The Velveteen Rabbit
Now, I promise to only embrace the critiques that help me grow, but forgive me, opinionated reader, for ignoring that which is intended to be insulting. Pardon me, critics, if negative things said will never ever again convince me to give up. Forgive me, angry readers, if I keep evolving to be better in the face of haters. Long ago, I stopped giving away my power to people who just don’t understand.
“Becoming” is the story of what Anna Carter evolved to be despite fear, struggle, and hesitation. After abuse and neglect. Even when she was doubted and underestimated. She became more.
My love for her and her story is expressed by 8 edits, 4 drafts and 2 versions. I’m pretty sure if this first book were a stuffed animal it would look somewhat worse for wear.
…and now it is becoming Real.
All my love and gratitude,
