The Shadow Warriors

This evening, I have an "event" at a Rhode Island library. This will be a three person panel of female crime writers talking about "the new heroine." We get to sell books afterward. The audience is usually rapt enough and since I have joined toastmasters, I feel more confident doing these gigs.

One problem is that I have only one book in print, The Shadow Warriors, which came out first in 2000 as an e-book, and then in 2003 in print. Kids, that's a long time ago. I've written three books since, none of which are sold yet. Hence, this blog's title, "suck it up."

It's difficult to remember the book at times, since I began writing it in 1993. That's how long this so-called writing career has been on and off track. So this afternoon I dug out my copy and browed through it in order to be able to discuss the characters and scenes with some degree of freshness. It's actually a pretty good read, even better than I remembered. Isn't that something? It's the latest one, Festival Madness, that I worry about now, but it's only first draft and can be fixed. Problem is, I'm getting so depressed about not selling the last two books that I think my writing is beginning to sound a little depressed, too. You know, it's what's in your head that comes out on the page and well. . . you know.

Not good, and no amount of sucking it up is going to lift the depression. And here's another thing. The California book isn't really coming to me, but the Afghanistan book is--a book I don't even want to write, not qualified to write, yadda, yadda, and yet it's calling my name.

I am reading Three Trapped Tigers and revelling in the author's command of various voices, all in the first pages. Zowie. That's talent.

Why do I think my writing would be better if I ran around drinking, smoking, drugging and chasing men? Raising hell? Did Emily Dickenson? Hell, no.

Think about that for a while.
Sucking it up big time.

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