Dear Saint Jude (confessions of a writer)
I’m not a “big-name” writer by any stretch of anyone’s imagination. I’m a tiny fish in a very large pond, but of late I am discovering that even small fish have sensitive psyches. Sometimes, when I am struggling with a book, I wonder whether other mid-list writers are sweating as I am. Are they questioning their ability to write their book the way they envision it? Running out of synonyms for “said” and “walked”? Waking up at 3 a.m. with the deflating realization that the love scene will never work? Wondering they have lost their “touch” or their “voice?” Or (gulp) their next contract? I agonize over whether my editor will like my last scene. My hero. My character arc. But then I have to ask, “Why am I doing this?” Am I writing this story for my editor, or for me? Is it my creative vision that’s important here, or the marketing department’s estimate of potential sales? Should I change to a more currently sellable genre such as paranormal? Urban fantasy? Young adult thril...