last february, i had this bright idea. it involved writing and its evolution of stored dreams (and word docs).
like most writers, i have writing archives, where dozens of beginnings to manuscripts and a few completed ones spend retirement. for those that skipped that stage of its life and were sent out to demanding editors, these chapters are stapled with their rejection letters. most writers possess them, a necessary part of process that i have fully come to accept.
today, i am a writer. that's my job (enter snoopy doing his happy dance). this part of my writing journey - the years that didn't involve endless pages of interpretive thoughts on great works of american literature - began at least 20 years ago in the romance genre. i was going to be a romance novelist; after all, it was romantic. and i had seen romancing the stone a million times, and i had known how the plot would end. i was searching for my own jack. i faithfully joined georgia romance writers, attended the meetings, even joined critique groups, but something just didn't mesh. i loved every second of it, but i could never write the end. i finally got the message: this isn't your genre, judy. find another way.
and so i did. i sat down and tried to figure out what i loved most in this world. and then i heard my mama's voice. the stories, the history, the truths she imparted on a daily basis, much that fell upon deaf ears. i loved travel, people, the past, old people, quirky stories - those stores you just can't make up. stories that will die if these deaf ears continue to be oblivious. and that is where you find me today - traveling and discovering unique tales of a people who make destinations so darn interesting. and in my travels, i met carlos.
long story short, i fell in love with carlos, his story, his family, his life - and as a writer, you should never let anything like that ever go to waste. so i'm not.
so i took the idea and submitted it to a publisher. in may, a publisher said, "i like this. maybe it will work."
part 2 of snoopy's happy dance!
now, it's july, and i'm not only in the heat of summer, and in the heat of the process. my path to publishing is real; the contract has been signed and returned, and i've had time to do some mind-processing (one of my workflows, i've come to discover) and it's time to buckle down. it's odd that you spend a lifetime dreaming of this moment, and now that it's here, you're scared senseless. time flies. sources evade. sure ideas wither.
so with an anticipated publishing date of august 2015, i'm hot on the trail of the following: moonshine in the mountains, north georgia mountains, old folks, young folks, copper stills in the moonlight, revenuers, spirits, carlos lovell, distilleries, recipes, new folks who can't get enough of those old folks, - and none of that rot-gut stuff allowed (carlos says so), etc. you get the picture.
first stop, the libraries: university of georgia, university of north carolina, clarkesville library,etc. next stop, well, i haven't figured that out just yet.
i invite you to come along on this pathway. for on the days when i just need to vent and explode - with words that have nothing to do with moonshine and history - i hope to find you here, exploding with me.
like most writers, i have writing archives, where dozens of beginnings to manuscripts and a few completed ones spend retirement. for those that skipped that stage of its life and were sent out to demanding editors, these chapters are stapled with their rejection letters. most writers possess them, a necessary part of process that i have fully come to accept.
today, i am a writer. that's my job (enter snoopy doing his happy dance). this part of my writing journey - the years that didn't involve endless pages of interpretive thoughts on great works of american literature - began at least 20 years ago in the romance genre. i was going to be a romance novelist; after all, it was romantic. and i had seen romancing the stone a million times, and i had known how the plot would end. i was searching for my own jack. i faithfully joined georgia romance writers, attended the meetings, even joined critique groups, but something just didn't mesh. i loved every second of it, but i could never write the end. i finally got the message: this isn't your genre, judy. find another way.
and so i did. i sat down and tried to figure out what i loved most in this world. and then i heard my mama's voice. the stories, the history, the truths she imparted on a daily basis, much that fell upon deaf ears. i loved travel, people, the past, old people, quirky stories - those stores you just can't make up. stories that will die if these deaf ears continue to be oblivious. and that is where you find me today - traveling and discovering unique tales of a people who make destinations so darn interesting. and in my travels, i met carlos.
long story short, i fell in love with carlos, his story, his family, his life - and as a writer, you should never let anything like that ever go to waste. so i'm not.
so i took the idea and submitted it to a publisher. in may, a publisher said, "i like this. maybe it will work."
part 2 of snoopy's happy dance!
now, it's july, and i'm not only in the heat of summer, and in the heat of the process. my path to publishing is real; the contract has been signed and returned, and i've had time to do some mind-processing (one of my workflows, i've come to discover) and it's time to buckle down. it's odd that you spend a lifetime dreaming of this moment, and now that it's here, you're scared senseless. time flies. sources evade. sure ideas wither.
so with an anticipated publishing date of august 2015, i'm hot on the trail of the following: moonshine in the mountains, north georgia mountains, old folks, young folks, copper stills in the moonlight, revenuers, spirits, carlos lovell, distilleries, recipes, new folks who can't get enough of those old folks, - and none of that rot-gut stuff allowed (carlos says so), etc. you get the picture.
first stop, the libraries: university of georgia, university of north carolina, clarkesville library,etc. next stop, well, i haven't figured that out just yet.
i invite you to come along on this pathway. for on the days when i just need to vent and explode - with words that have nothing to do with moonshine and history - i hope to find you here, exploding with me.
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