What Is Enough For Me

Okay, so I've been doing a lot of thinking and working, and working and thinking about publishing. I always seem to, and I always seem to find some new light or think of something in a new way. I guess I shouldn't be surprised by this anymore, but I still am!

So I have traditionally published a series with Simon & Schuster. I enjoyed the experience, and I like working with an agent to sell my books to bigger publishers. I am hoping for future sales in this market. In fact, I just turned in a novel last week that I hope is "the one!"

Additionally, I have begun a journey into self-publishing. I have enjoyed it too. There are things I can do with my self-published titles that I can't with my S&S titles. Marketing, playing with price, and buying ads are the biggest things I've noticed so far.

I've also been networking and hob-nobbing with some Indie authors. They are fun people, and very determined and hard-working. I've also noticed--and it's all coming from ME, not THEM--this need to constantly be selling my books.

I've felt this pressure since self-publishing. Not from other authors, but in general. I've realized that I don't like it.

Selling books is not why I write books. I have no grand illusions of making a million dollars. I don't write to make money. I don't want that to be the focus of my writing.

But I've struggled with this, because the amount of money you make nearly determines your success or worth in almost any field, publishing included.

This thought of writing because I love it, and publishing because, for me, it's a needed process that comes with writing has been re-iterated this past weekend. I want to share my work with readers--hopefully readers that will love the stories I write as much as I do.

To me, that is the purpose and goal of my writing. It's also why I publish. I've been having a hard time identifying what would be "enough" for me. More money? I already knew I wasn't writing for money. But what is it? What drives me to write and publish? What is enough?

I think I've identified at least one piece of this perplexing puzzle. The reader connection. See, I got a review from The Deseret News, which is one of the big newspapers in Salt Lake City. The reviewer loved ELEVATED. She connected to it. She got out of it what I got out of it. She read and loved what I wrote and loved.

She said, in part: "It is easy to flow from the first word to the last without ever putting down the book. Johnson shows outstanding talent in this form, and her words are beautiful, important and deeply felt." (You can read the whole review here.)

It was a magical moment. It's like the reader and the author experiencing, breathing, and existing in the same space for the time it takes to read the book.

And that, I realized, is enough for me.

What do you think would be enough for you?

Why I Write

Okay, so over the weekend, my husband and I went to see the movie Saving Mr. Banks. I am not ashamed to admit that I teared up a few times (okay, maybe I'm a little ashamed).

I thought it was an absolutely fantastic movie, from the brilliant acting to the progression of the plot. I'm not interested in debating the truthfulness of it, or anything like that. I thoroughly enjoyed it from an entertainment perspective.

From an author perspective, I understand how and why Mary Poppins felt like family to P.L. Travers. I found her character complex -- and at one point I leaned over and asked my husband if we're supposed to like her.

Because she never allowed anyone into her life. And she was cold, and unyielding, and sometimes I didn't like her. But by the end, I loved her and I loved that she got to see her Mr. Banks saved.

I felt a connection to her as an author. I started writing to alleviate some of the negative emotions in my life, and often that is still why I continue to craft stories. So to see her past, witness her tragedy and pain, and see how she used writing to tame those in her life reminded me so much of myself.

I am in a much better place now than I was when I started writing over 5 years ago, but I often still call on those negative emotions to help me take my characters to the brink of disaster.

I really enjoyed Saving Mr. Banks, from both a personal and writerly position. Have you seen it?

Why do you write?

Why I Started Writing

Okay, so today is the "Why You Started Writing" Blogfest. I found out about it on Alex's blog, but I think there are a few people acting as hosts. (You can see the list and follow the blogfest here.)

Here's a brief overview of the guidelines: Tell us all where your writing dreams began. It all started somewhere and we want you to tell us your own unique beginnings.

For me, I started writing in December 2007. I was about to turn 30, had skipped English as a senior in high school, earned a mathematics minor in college, and had been teaching elementary school for 8 years. I wanted a record of the first three decades of my life. Earlier that fall, I had gone through a devastating loss, and I still hadn't quite recovered from it (sometimes I think I'm still not over it). And as I started writing, I realized something amazing. The black feelings inside wormed their way out.

The world took on new color. I didn't have to live with those debilitating emotions anymore, because they found life on the page. Thus, the writing of fiction began. And my struggles and emotions and angst landed in the most reasonable place: a young adult.

That's why I started writing. I keep writing because it makes me happy. And I often say that the reason I pursued publication is because I'm a pit bull. I often don't see the point of spending time and energy on something unless I see it through to the end.

So after I'd written my third novel, I thought, "Well, I better figure out how to get a book published." And off I went.

So there's my story. What's yours? Why did you start writing? Why do you keep writing? Are you pursuing the dream of publication?

Why I Write Young Adult

Okay, so this is a new series I'm starting. No trifecta. #dangitall

Just me. I'm calling it my "Why I" series, and it'll range from writing topics to food to Why I Dye My Hair. Okay, that one is lame, but you get the gist.

Today: Why I Write Young Adult

So I started writing just after Thanksgiving in the year 2007. I never wanted to be a writer (I know, that's like a cardinal sin or something). I hated English. I took the AP test as a junior in high school for the sole purpose of being able to skip English as a senior.

I did not take English in college. I majored in Chemistry Education before switching to Elementary Ed, with a math minor.

That's like, as far from English as you can get.

So I'm teaching school. Raising my family.

Then something devastating happened to me. I won't bore you with the details. But I will say that I vanished. Became ghostly. I disappeared inside my pain. My days were gray. My husband would ask me how my day was, and I couldn't answer.

Because it was just another day and I'd made it through.

I'm sure we've all had times like this in our lives. And if you haven't, color yourself lucky.

So, I'd been living-but-not-living for about three months when Thanksgiving came around. Two weeks later, I'd be turning 30.

So I sat down to write a personal history of the first three decades of my life. And it was theraputic. I could get the yuck out in words.

When the personal history was done, I immediately started writing a novel. It was not something I knew how to do. I'd never looked at books as more than an escape.

And as I was writing my first (very terrible) novel, I realized that all the angst, depression, etc. inside could live on the page. And if it was living on the page, then it wasn't living inside me.

What better character to carry that angst, confusion, anger, hopelessness, mingled with some rays of light (I'm not all thunderheads and frowny faces), than a teenage girl? I mean, seriously.

So that's why I write YA (almost always girls). It's the perfect place for me to unload my emotional baggage. Betcha didn't think I was going to go there, did ya?

Well.

Why do you write in the genre you've chosen?

Impossibilities

The best thing about writing is the fact that we can make the impossible possible.

For example, I was watching Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat the other day with my girl kidlet. She's sort of a freak for anything dancing and singing related. And I realized that I am too. I was all belting out these songs and stuff, and I got a little teary.

Sheesh. Now I'm crying at musicals!

Anyway, this is why. I would love to be on stage, singing and dancing and wearing all that stage makeup. Maybe. But I never will -- and my complete lack of dancing ability and my tone deafness are only two reasons why.

Becoming a Broadway performer is an impossibility.

But through writing, I can do anything!

Anything that doesn't require research, that is. *wink* (Hey, I'm nothing if not realistic.)

What about you guys? What can you do while writing that you would/could never do in real life?

Why I Started Writing

Christmas and the end of the year always have me contemplating my life. So since you're all privy to the inner workings of my mind, you get to come along for the journey.

Today: Why I Started Writing.

Disclosure: I'm not someone who's always wanted to be a writer. When I was growing up, I didn't feel this desire to pen words. In fact, I abhorred English classes and opted out of them my senior year. I went into Chemistry as a freshman in college. English? Writing? Humanities? A big fat "no thank you."

I think this is like, one of the seven deadly sins or something, so if you want to stop reading here, feel free.

But anyway, I didn't want to be a writer. I wanted to teach. You see, I had imagination. I spent hours making the roll for my "class." I wrote kids' names on the board. I gave grades. I was born to be a teacher.

And I am.

It's awesome. I love it.

So fast forward to Thanksgiving, 2007. Well, okay, back up a bit. The August before that I suffered a horrific personal loss.

And I disappeared.

I got up each day and got the kids ready for school. I went to work. I existed. But only in shades of gray, in world with no color, no emotion, no nothing. If you ask me what happened during those four months, I can't tell you.

I was alive, but not living.

My husband would ask me how my day was (as he knew I wasn't whole, but didn't know how to put all my broken pieces back together), and I'd simply look at him. I had no words. Because it was just another day and I had made it through.

So Thanksgiving came. I was going to be 30 in two weeks, so I decided to sit down and write my personal life history (cuz I'm into family history and stuff). And I found that when I sat at the computer and poured words onto the screen, I could live.

Really live.

And so I finished my personal history of the first 30 years of my life and immediately opened a new document and began writing another story.

And thus, how I started writing.

Because I don't do anything halfway, I've since determined that I want to be a published author. And so I'm pursuing that.

But you know what? No matter what happens in 2010, no matter if I get a book deal or I don't, I know one thing.

I am already a successful writer. Because writing provided a light in a dark dark place when I couldn't find the exit.

And that's better than a book deal.

But I'll take a book deal too, pretty please. *wink*

So, my dearest readers and beloved friends, why did you start writing?