To piggy back on Amie’s post yesterday. . . I thought of another great way not to write . . . FEAR. Fear of the next book. Fear of your last book. Fear of never writing or selling again. I have been in the tangled mits of this for some time now. It’s almost a manic, panic, crippling emotion.

You start to second guess every word you put down, every plot you work out, every story you create. And if you let it, it can stifle the writing right out of your life.

If you get out of the habit of reading, researching, writing, you may lose whatever rhythm you once had, whatever impetus to conjur up other worlds and frankly lose your freaking mojo. . . and to a writer, to me, that is a fate worse than a bad review.

But everntually those characters, hell even your muse, will bitch-slap you and make you sit up and remember that you are a WRITER. In order to be that, you need to WRITE. So if need be you pick up a pen and paper and jot down some notes. Or have a brain-smash session with someone to iron out details of one of your free-floating ideas. Plot out that book you thought about writing, but maybe wanted to hold off for a while. . . as long as you WRITE!(and it doesn’t hurt to have a couple of good friends who kick you in the ass even when they are on a deadline!)

So my comment on Raine’s blog last Friday got me to thinking.

If you’re NOT going to put any time into it(writing), you might as well quit.

I mean what’s the point to keep going if you’re not going to write and all you’re going to do is whine about not having any writing time? I’m sorry but put up or shut up–yes I’m obviously one of the people Raine blogged about above because I don’t want to hear that “I don’t have time” bullshit! There are lots of us out there who “don’t have time” that fucking make the time because it’s important to us.

And while I was um a bit hormonal *coughbitchycough*, I think there’s something valid there.

So how do you NOT write a book? Here are a few ways I came up with in no particular order. Feel free to add your own.

1. Put everything and everybody above your writing: You MUST make time to write. Those words don’t just magically appear on their own. I’m not saying kick your family or job or housework to the curb (but if you can get away with it, go for it).

2. Spend so much time studying the craft that you don’t actually write. This is a cop out. The best way to learn the craft of writing…is to write. Duh.

3. Whine about not having time to write. I don’t want to hear you whine, because believe me when I say everyone has a life to deal with–I have two kids and a day job (a house and two cats). I find time. You can too. Allison Brennan wrote with three or four kids, and a stressful full-time job in the California state government. If you really want to write, you’ll make time.

4. Don’t read. This is an even bigger duh than #2. And believe it or not, I actually know of authors who don’t read. There was even a period after I started writing when I didn’t read–I actually think this is normal BUT if you want to be a writer you have to read AND write.

5. Quit. This one needs no explanation.

So why am I posting all this? Why be such a mean girl? Because I LOVE what I do. I LOVE being a writer, despite the hardship, the deadlines, the rejections, the setbacks…all of it. Now, I’m going to go dump my Alpha Smart and do some editing so I can update my meter.

Feel free to add your own, or argue with me. And then, go read this. And then, come back and tell me what you think.

A mini-rant, since I haven’t used the soapbox in a while.  I try to avoid the ____ thing, but sometimes it just rears up and grabs me by the gluteus maximus.

I’ve come across this a few times while blog-hopping (when I should be writing), and it’s always plucked just the wrong nerve with me.
And no, it’s not that I’m MS. Perfect, and always say just the right thing or phrase it just the right way.
And yes, I’m sure people mean well when they offer advice.  It’s just that we may want to be a little more careful with the manner we choose to offer it.

It usually starts with the phrase, “If you can’t ___ ___ ___, then you probably shouldn’t be in this business.”

I may be contrary by nature, but my instinctive reaction to such statements is, “Well excuse the ___ out of me, but who the ___ died and named you Wizard?!”

I’ve heard it applied to everything from being patient, to the amount of time it takes you to rebound from rejections, to how many words a day you should be writing, to going to conventions, to taking harsh critiques, to meeting deadlines with time to spare, etc.  And I gotta tell ya—it chaps my ___.

Different people react to different situations in different ways.  So while a struggling author might fail to luck into the biz right away, or take rejection too much to heart, or not meet an ideal word count with their writing attempts, it also might be true that they have family issues at that time, or they’re in physical pain, or unable to use their hands/fingers, or can’t see well, or have an elderly parent to care for, or children and no one to help, or they’re working two or three jobs, or don’t have the luxury of a support system, etc., etc.  And however large your molehill may be, don’t piss on the smaller ones.  It ruins the ___ view.

It’s one thing to tell someone that ‘people who can manage this or that seem to fare better in the business’, or ‘if you have trouble with this aspect of the game, you might want to work on it as much as possible’.  But to tell someone, “if you can’t ___ ___ ___, then you should probably take your toys and go home…”

Please.  Stop.  Just ___ stop.  Your way is NOT the only way, and more than one author has made it with more than one liability.

Warning someone about a rough road is one thing.  Laying down a spike strip is something else.

A few years ago, an agent blogger posted a jaw-dropping list of e-query faux pas she’d encountered.

I couldn’t help but feel sympathy. I mean, agents get the same nonsense in unbelievable amounts day in and day out. Personally? Something like that would drive me batshit crazy. Talk about Groundhog Day! While the list was pretty standard fare, a couple of items were simply outrageous. And here I’d thought I’d seen it all.

Check out this little snippet:

-Titles that make no sense
- Huge word counts on genre or YA novels (that have a limited word count - if you did your research)
- Dear Sir or Madame
- Dear Editor !?!?
- Will you publish my novel (no)
- Not putting your contact information on the page (duh)
- Not telling me what the book is about
- Telling me more about your graduate work than your writing- Dropping names of colleges/professions in the first line (who gives a crap?)
- Telling me that you are uniquely qualified to write a novel (everyone is)
- This is the next… (add anything here)
- attaching files to an email that I didn’t ask for
- Asking me if, when I [say] “Mail this to me” I mean [U.S.] mail. (I do)
- Requesting any sort of deposit for your manuscript (!?)
…
- Assume that if I send a rejection, that it was, in fact, on purpose and not a “huge mistake” because you “know we are meant to work together.” (heeby jeebies)
- When I say I’m interest[ed] in Middle Eastern/Persian books - I don’t mean terrorist novels.

Okay, I’ll fess up. I actually did ONE of the above many moons ago, but don’t ask which one ’cause I’m not telling!

So how about you? Reaching back to your newby days, have you ever committed any of these cardinal sins? Or are you guilty of something even more egregious, something that’s not even listed up there? Come on. Fess up. I promise I won’t poke fun at you.

NOT!