Hectic Weeks

Last week was extremely busy, and this coming weekend is going to be even more so. Despite all the craziness--mostly involving the dentist, a Girl Scout Thinking Day costume, a belly dance performance and a contest submission--I did manage to get another scene written for Shifts last week. I'm going to work on the next scene a little tonight, though the cold I caught isn't helping matters.

I remember one time I was so miserable with a cold, I wrote a cold into the manuscript--infected one of my characters just for...I don't know...spite, maybe. But a cold doesn't fit into any part of the scene I'm writing now, so even if misery loves company, I won't have any this time around.

At least after this weekend, the kids' piano Festival will be over for another year, as will my younger daughter's Irish Dance recital. Maybe after this weekend, I can make up for some lost time--though as the contest submission was for a writers' contest, I can't exactly say that I made zero progress this last week-and-a-half.

Casualties of Writing

You've probably heard the rule "kill your darlings." It doesn't mean that you have to nix every sentence that you find particularly grand and wonderful. While every writer may have a tendency to wax flowery and verbose now and then, not everything that comes out of those wild moments of inspiration is garbage. It's just that sometimes we love our work so very much that we lose the ability to see when something we wrote just isn't hitting the mark--or when it's hit the mark so hard that the mark has been obliterated.

I've thrown out pages before, and I'll do it again. It's just sad that the words on the page--or this blog, for that matter--represent minutes of my life that I'll never get back. I hate throwing out words because when I do that, I'm throwing away minutes, half-hours, hours of precious time. But when it's necessary to make the story better, it's necessary, full stop.

What brought this on? I'm about to kill a page. Not too much of a sacrifice; it could have been a whole scene or chapter. But I didn't get a lot of writing time today, and man, do I hate to throw it down the virtual shredder.

I started the scene in the wrong place, is all. Sometimes it's necessary to expend effort on something that later must be ditched. If it helps you find your starting point or better understand a character or situation, then it was worth the sacrifice. The paragraph or page or scene was a casualty of writing. But it's okay; revision is part of writing. Often, it's not the writing that's great, but the rewriting.

Pages

Between what I wrote during the wee hours last night and the last couple of hours this afternoon, I've got almost eight pages for today. This last scene, which I wrote in two sessions, wrapped up one...no, two...of my plot threads, and comprised the end of Chapter 13--all twenty pages of it. I'm past the middle of the book, and now things are moving rapidly toward the climax. Literally. There's a big sex scene coming up in Chapter 15...but that's still about a week away. I'm averaging about a chapter per week lately, which is good. If I can keep up this pace and still get the kids through their schoolwork, the book should be finished by about May 1.

It's so good to be writing in the Ondine universe again, and so good to be nearly finished with my trilogy. No matter what happens, at least I'll have done that. An entire epic fantasy trilogy. Cool. At this stage, I'll celebrate whatever accomplishments I can.

Now I need to go run a few errands, while it's still daylight.

Roses for the Writer

I got nearly five pages today, and during the afternoon, at that. Gary came home early from his work to take the kids to their piano class (it helps when you're one of the owners of the business) and so I was alone in a quiet house for a whole hour-and-a-half. I worked through the must-putter-online stage and into making actual pages before they got home, but most of the pages I got today actually came into being after the family had returned. About three-and-a half pages into the scene, Gary walked into the room with a big bouquet of roses. I wasn't quite done with my scene, but...no way was I going to yell at my husband when he had roses in his hands! He can interrupt me with tea, food, or flowers if he wants. It's the surest way not to get snapped at...approach the feral writer with caution, preferably bearing gifts. Well, the roses are not a standard day's fare--they're for Valentines' Day, but hey, it bears noting that I can be successfully bribed.

And then, of course, I do love the man. After sixteen years together, I'd better. So, all in all, a good day. The roses are beautiful. So are the five pages.

Into the Frying Pan

A blog reader asked a good question the other day. Exactly how did I get myself into this mess, anyway? Okay, maybe mess wasn't the exact term used, but...basically, who the heck am I and how did I get into the writing gig?

Without going into my life history and boring everyone stiff, here's the short version. I started writing at about age five--short stories and such. Nothing all that stellar, but at least it established the habit of writing creatively. I wrote my first novel at the age of sixteen--a short, sweet little confection about unicorns, which shall forever remain in my closet--unless someone drags it out after my death just to see how bad it was. I messed with that for about eight more years, as I went through college and tried to have a "normal" career as a nurse. About the time I got burnt out on the nursing, I got married and decided to have a couple of kids. During that time frame I wrote another novel--another closet feature I'd be embarrassed to have anyone read nowadays. Good practice, though. I racked up lots of rejections from agents during that time--thank goodness. If anyone had actually picked up that turkey of a book, I'd be really worried about his or her judgment.

The real training ground began during the period from 1997 to about 2001, while my two kids were small. As soon as I could reliably leave them with their father for entire weekends without me, I started attending writers' conferences and pitching my third novel to agents. A few looked at it and I got a few encouraging compliments. No takers, though.

During this time I also got a few good comments (one was even from Marion Zimmer Bradley) on short stories I wrote and sent to the various fantasy magazines. But again, no sales. With MZB, I apparently missed it by a hair. I got the rejection letter that read, "This is a perfectly good story...unfortunately I have already purchased something similar...."

When I could not sell any of my short stories, I started a miniature book business, Pookatales Press, and sold the short stories in mini-book format for mini-book collectors and collectors of dollhouse miniatures. This didn't result in a large print run, as I hand-bound the volumes myself, but it did give me a way to be paid for my stories at last, and gave me experience in running my own small business.

My fourth novel was called Aspects of Illusion, and garnered some attention from an editor at Roc, who said if I revised it, she'd look at it again, or alternatively, she'd look at anything else I wrote. Now I was finally getting somewhere! I went to more conferences, took more classes, notably agent Don Maass's "Breakout Novel" classes, revised again, and finally hit the jackpot. The revised fourth novel gained the attention of Bob Mecoy during the fall of 2002. He became my agent and has stuck with me ever since, for which I am eternally grateful. Aspects of Illusion is the first of an epic fantasy trilogy. I have since written the middle book, called Shadows of Memory, and currently I'm halfway through the third book, Shifts of Perception. Unfortunately, all we've managed to get for these books are compliments partnered with regrets from publishers that they did not have a spot to offer us in the lineup. Epic fantasy has proven to be a hard sell, and these books are fairly lengthy, which no doubt doesn't help matters. First-time authors have a hard time publishing at lengths of more than 100,000 words. I am finishing the trilogy because I still believe in it, and because maybe at some point its day will finally come.

In 2006-2007, I wrote a new book in the urban fantasy genre, called From the Ninth Wave. This one is sleek and fast, and happens to be in a genre that is still hot and still doing well in the marketplace. In December of 2007, I completed the last revisions that Bob asked for, and by now it'll be going out to publishers. I'm at the wait and see stage with this one, so while I'm waiting to hear the initial feedback on it, I'm finishing the epic trilogy so it's done and out of the buffer. Next on the docket is to plot a second book in the urban fantasy world of my character, Brenna Callahan, so if someone picks up the first one, there'll be the possibility of more Brenna books in the future.

That's about it! No awards, no legitimate publications, no track record except that of hard work and stubborn, stubborn persistence. My entire career to date is riding on this new book--so any positive energy sent in its direction is greatly appreciated! In a few months, weeks, or days, we'll have a much better idea of just how much longer I'll be an unpublished writer. The one sure thing is that I'll be a writer for the rest of my life, and one day, my books will be on the shelves. Then I'll be out of the frying pan and into the fire.

New Blog

I've created an additional blog for the people who are interested in environmental or green issues, the locavore lifestyle, gardening, etc. That way, if you just come here for the writing-related posts and don't really want to see the other, you'll get mostly writing-related posts. Or if you'd rather read about the green stuff but don't care much about the writing, you can go to Green By Choice and read my environmental musings there. If you're into both...right on. A few things may occasionally slip from one blog onto the other, but for the most part, I'll try to keep the subjects separate. Either way, thanks for reading.

Time

A writer's time is one of the most delicate and precious things in our lives, and yet somehow it seems as though it's the easiest thing to have taken for granted.

I've read published writers' blogs which detail what must, to them, be a really perplexing problem. They're successful, some of them so much so that they hardly have time to write due to all their other writing-related responsibilities--press, online interviews, chats, book tours and signings, travel to and from the above, and the ever-present edits. Some have more than one series on the table at any given time, and they're expected to do both.

I don't have any of those responsibilities yet, but I have others, and mine are such that sometimes I truly wonder whether if I ever get to the level of published-author-in-demand, I'll be able to meet all the writing-related responsibilities due to my current level of non-writing-related responsibilities. I'll make it, somehow. I'll have to, therefore I will. There's not really a choice in the matter. But at the moment, I admit the prospect of juggling all those balls is a little daunting. And to think I once thought just getting a publishable manuscript into the hands of an agent was the most challenging hurdle to face.

I'll cope. I'll find a way to do it all. But just once, I wish we could value my writing as the important career it is, and find a way for me to give it the attention it deserves, every day. Actually having it bring in some income will help, but even before that happens, I have to find a way to have my cake and eat it, too. If I could draw a salary for all the things I'm currently responsible for, my price would be simply this: time. Time to write, time to create, and maybe even a little time to just be.

Major Re-org

I went through my chapter outline for Shifts of Perception and decided to do some shuffling of scenes in chapters 1 - 12. It's not so much that things were in the wrong order--they weren't--but some of the chapters were extremely long, while the last one was short. That isn't a problem and I've certainly read plenty of books with wildly varying chapter lengths, but for whatever reason, my test readers seem to like it if my chapters have a consistent length. More importantly, each chapter also has to end in such a way that a reader will want to keep reading. Not always a cliffhanger, necessarily, but a definite intriguing note that makes people wonder what's going to happen next.

Kudos to Patricia Briggs and her latest success, Iron Kissed, which not only made but topped the NYT bestseller list and is one of the type of books I just mentioned--the type that keeps you wondering what happens next, so that you have a very hard time putting the book down.

Snowflakes and Feathers

Four pages today, all told. I know I've stayed up late again, but even though that's not great, at least I have progress to report. I had several writing sessions at different intervals during the day (Tuesday). It was a snow day; my older daughter and I didn't even go to dance class due to the snowy roads and the fact that one of my rear tires has sprung a slow leak. So I stayed home and made as much progress as I could.

I helped my younger daughter write a report for Science, working on the book after she and her father left in the 4-wheel drive pickup for her dance class. Something about knowing I have lots to do and have to learn to be productive in smaller chunks of time just flat did it for me today. Every time I sat down to write, I did a lot more writing than internet browsing, and got into flow right away without any trouble. In this wee hour of the morning, I have four new pages to show for it, and a completed chapter as a result. Moxie is on Sunday, and this time I will have pages to bring that are not just another rewrite of something the ladies have already read.

At least in part, I owe my productivity to the new featherbed we got to go on top of the latex topper we got to go on top of our failing pillow-top mattress. I know, I know. I'm like the Princess and the Pea. I just keep adding layers onto the mattress, hoping it will help. But even the Huz, who'd never admit there was anything wrong with the old mattress, slept better last night with the new featherbed, so maybe we've finally found the combination of layers that will work until we're rich enough to buy a new mattress. At least this is definitely an improvement, and I'm betting that if I sleep better, I'll write better. Really? You think?

Working Hours

I shifted my schedule enough last night that I went to bed at about 1 a.m. and got up at 10:30 a.m. (with allowances for a two-hour interruption between 3 and 5 a.m. where I woke up from the mattress being uncomfortable and remembered I'd promised to send an important email to a group I belong to. Time sensitive stuff, so I couldn't delay it or it would have messed up somebody's plans for the day. My schedule has never been stellar, and time management is my Achilles' heel. I'm always working hours when I should be sleeping, and sleeping hours when I should be working. Comes from having started my adult working life on a night shift, I guess, but even now, years later, it has still carried through and done me no favors. I beat the 20-somethings for crazy hours. Well, now I need to change it for good and work hours that are more...ah...normal.

Another obstacle for me is the homeschool. I need to work with my kids for a certain amount of time each day, and even when they're supposed to be working independently, they need more structure in their day. So I'm trying a new system--or maybe it's an old system. Anyway, it involves visual aids and, literally, working hours.

I have two hourglasses. Today, I put one in the kids' homeschool office and one in my office. I got the kids started working and turned their hourglass over, then went upstairs to my office and turned mine over. When my sand ran out, I went down to check on them and see how much progress they'd made. As this is a Saturday but we're playing the catch up game, if they make enough progress they get to go to a movie tonight. And the hourglass in their office lets them know exactly how much time they've got left until Mom appears to lower the boom. The hourglass in my office keeps them from cheating the time on their hourglass.

This means I have to write in one-hour increments, which is hard for me. At the end of an hour, I'm just getting warmed up. But I don't have a choice at this point. I'll just have to learn how to get into flow faster, and be grateful that I get any time at all to write during the day. After all, some writing is better than no writing. Problem is, none of this takes housework or errands into account...but no system is perfect, and this is just a starting point. We'll see where we can go from here. From what I see today, we've all made some progress.

News and Happy Dance

Okay, here's one of the moments I've been waiting for. I emailed my agent Wednesday; he replied Thursday that From the Ninth Wave is finally in a marketable condition! No more rewrites--at least, not until an editor at a publishing house picks it up. Now he's going to start showing it around the Big Apple, and hopefully it will find a great home with a publisher. Whoohooo!

This might be the one that does it. Now I just have to wait and see, and let Bob take it from here. In the meantime, I'll be working on the second half of the last novel in my epic fantasy trilogy. I'd like to get Shifts of Perception finished as soon as I can, just in case Ninth Wave makes it. And I need to work on the plot for the second Brenna book--assuming I'll need one. Busy, busy, busy....

In other news, I performed (bellydance) at a coffee house earlier tonight. It was fun--this was my third time performing bellydance in public, and it seems like each time I do it, I get a little less nervous. I'm hoping this is a good omen for some future time in which I have to do some kind of press or something for the novels...ah, we're back to the novels again.

Optimism abounds at the moment. Bob likes the book; ergo, all is right with the world (or at least this little part of it). Everything else will take care of itself in due course.

De-cluttered

The new bookcase came in, and I've nearly got all my books shuffled around the way I want them. I love it. It's going to be so much easier to work in my office without all the clutter and stacks of papers and books. I'm so pleased at the way it's turning out. I can even open my door and still not hit a bookshelf--the wall I put the new bookshelf on was just long enough to hold two bookshelves and still allow the door to open. Helps that they're quite tall and not extremely wide. After months of clutter, finally there's a place for almost everything and almost everything is in its place. Sigh.

I've caught up on a lot of reading--now I only have one borrowed book left in my house where before there was a pile of them. I've also read Patty Briggs' new book, Iron Kissed, twice--once for myself and once aloud to my husband. My daughters will want to borrow it next.

Now if I can just finish writing the magical battle scene I'm stuck on for the Oantra book, Shifts of Perception, I'll be almost back on track. And one day soon, I'm going to have to work up the courage to call my agent and ask him if this last rewrite of From the Ninth Wave was good enough for him to start showing it to publishers.

Many thanks in advance to everyone who's been sending along good thoughts. I appreciate them more than you can imagine.

Happy New Year

My resolution: to get a publisher's contract this year. It's time.

I've spent some time trying to de-clutter my office, and I've come to the conclusion that I need yet another bookcase. It shouldn't come as a surprise, when I've been steadily collecting books for reference and pleasure all this time, but I already have four tall bookshelves in the office. I can't fit in more than two additional bookcases, and I'd really rather add no more than one. If I added two, my armchair would either have to go out (leaving only the desk chair in the room--not preferable) or I'd have to set the armchair in front of one of the bookcases--also not preferable. So somehow I have to make do with only one more, and if things expand beyond that, I'll have to figure out some other arrangement in the closet, I guess. Anyway, the main thing is that I can't function in the clutter anymore, and I have to fix it. It's gumming up the writing gears...or something...and I need to be working on the last Oantra book before I get the final verdict on Ninth Wave. Reorganizing the office will facilitate so many other things that I can't and won't put it off any longer. I've already done two of the bookshelves and am working on the third--that's how I realized that I have to have another one.

Before I moved my stuff into this office, I faux-painted the walls myself. Hours of work. Now those walls will be mostly covered by tall bookshelves. Sigh. Oh, well. I guess I need the books more than I need faux-painted walls. And I can still see some of my handiwork here and there behind the all-important writers' resources.

One of these days, I'll list the books I used for reference on the Brenna book alone, and it'll be obvious why I need another bookshelf. At least reference books are better than bridesmaids' dresses--I'll definitely use the reference books again.

Promises Kept

I finally got out to do the mother/daughter date with my younger daughter tonight. I'd had to put it off for a very long time due to various constraints.... Okay, the writing was a big part of why I kept putting it off. Deadlines will eat up resources, especially time. But I had a promise to keep, and I'm relieved that it's been kept at last. She needed time with me, and I needed time with her, and she needed to know that she'd been put on the top of the priority list. We had a lot of fun; she wanted to go shopping at the mall, have dinner, and go to an arcade. We managed it all, plus a few errands that also needed doing. It was a very long outing, and now I need Tylenol and a hot pad for my neck and shoulders--they always bother me if I'm on my feet for too long. But it was worth it. She's worth it.

Writing-wise, I'm taking a little time off to clean and organize my office. It had become a horrible pit into which only fools and desperate writers dare enter. But I cannot function any longer in the clutter, and it must be set to rights. Then I will continue to work on the third Oantra book, Shifts of Perception, until I hear from Bob about the latest incarnation of From the Ninth Wave. If I've gotten it polished enough this time, it should start to go out to publishers soon. Then we'll see.

Done, Again

I finished the last round of edits from Bob and the Moxie. Now here's hoping it's really the last round--before an editor at a publishing house gets hold of the manuscript, anyway.

In the morning, it's out the door. Again.

Now I'm looking forward to Christmas shopping, cleaning my office, and going to see The Golden Compass--not necessarily in that order.

Projects

Unless I missed something, I finished Bob's edits on Saturday. Sunday I met with the Moxie and passed a copy of the revised manuscript of Beyond the Ninth Wave to them. They're going to do a quick read-through and get it back to me in the next couple of days, and I'll be mailing it out this week. Wednesday is technically the end of the six weeks I had for revisions. Tonight I need to read through the existing synopsis and see whether my manuscript changes need to be reflected in it, or whether it's still okay the way it is. And I need to do my own quick skim-through of the manuscript to see whether I think it flows well. Sometimes I still catch things to change, like a word here or a phrase there, but I think that's pretty much the case with most writers. The work is never really "done", but eventually you have to shove it out the door anyway.

Next I need to help the kids get caught up on their schoolwork, get my house and office clean and in shape for the holidays, and get the shopping and mailing done for Christmas cards and gifts. I knocked some of that off the list today after the Moxie meeting, but there's more still to do. I also have quite a few holiday-related craft projects, some of which need to be completed by mid-month for a kids' activity. We're going to be making holiday clothespin dolls and yule logs (with fake tea lights, of course). Should be fun.

And then, provided there are no more necessary changes to Ninth Wave, I'll go back and write more on the third Oantra book, plus work on plotting for the next Brenna book. (See, I'm being optimistic here--I'm assuming I'll need a second Brenna book.)

Edits Have Arrived

Bob's edits came in the mail today. The person who delivered the box stuffed it into the space below the mailbox and on top of the newspaper receptacle, which, if it had been raining, would have ruined it. They're supposed to bring a package up to the door and set it close to the house if it won't fit in the mailbox. Grr. Thank goodness it wasn't raining or snowing today.

It's funny--the edits I had slated for myself are actually more extensive than the ones Bob has asked me to make. It wasn't as bad as I feared, nor did he want anything very elaborate. He did want me to eliminate one of the remaining two of Brenna's movie references, so I guess they all need to go. Here's why: as movie/TV references are pop culture references, they will end up dating the book too much if I leave them in. Now that he's explained it, I can understand. One of my crit partners even mentioned the same thing earlier, but I didn't think it would be a problem. Since Bob says it is, I'll bow to his greater wisdom and remove them all. But I will miss Brenna's movie quotes. They were a quirky part of her character that I liked.

There are some changes I won't be able to make without damaging the worldbuilding, but I think I can at least re-work the references in question so their significance is more apparent. I'll do just what he wants as long as it doesn't knock anything important off kilter, and if that happens I'll find a work-around or a compromise if possible. It helps that Bob used to be an editor; this is good practice for when I have to consider changes for an editor at a publishing house. Bob did tell me that I don't have to make the changes verbatim; his corrections are more like guidelines rather than actual rules.

Hah! Movie reference.

One By One

Okay, I'm knocking edits off the list I made...one by one. After talking to Bob on the phone, I had made a list of about six different minor issues that needed to be addressed in From the Ninth Wave. At this point, I've finished trolling for adjectives and eliminated all of the extraneous ones. The ones I kept needed to stay because they clarified some description or otherwise made a difference to the readers' understanding of something. The ones I eliminated were in places where I had two or three when I really only needed one, or the noun was strong enough to stand alone and ditching the adjective didn't paint too austere a picture.

Then there were the content edits. My character had the habit of making occasional movie references. I had to eliminate any of those that undercut an otherwise tense scene. It's really too bad; thinking in terms of movie quotes was my heroine's way of lightening the mood when things got too tense for her, and it showed who she was as a character. But if she did it in a place where it also diffused the tension for the reader, it had to go. Even my favorite one--a quote by Milady DeWinter from Disney's The Three Musketeers. Dang it. I know, I know. Kill your darlings. Well, I only kept two in the entire book; neither was a direct quote, and neither diffused the tension because they didn't come in the middle of a crisis. Tricky little bit of work, that was.

As for the rest, I still need to go through and find a few places where I can spice certain things up here and there, and I need to find all the places where I somehow managed to make my point twice. That's going to be trickier for me to find, but I'll do it. I should be nearly done with this round. I'm hoping it's the last until a publisher gets her/his hands on it.

Hanging With the Dog

I worked on the edits last night (Friday) until late, got four hours' sleep and then had to take the kids to a club meeting in the morning. Then we went to a movie matinee, and by the time we got home, I just wanted to take a nap. Four hours' sleep just doesn't do it for me. So I napped for another three or four hours in the middle of the day, then got up and worked on the book again in the evening. There were the usual family interruptions, and then I wanted a late night snack. So after everyone else had gone to bed, somehow the dog and I ended up hanging out downstairs for a while. She doesn't always want to go to bed when everyone else does, either. Now I've just let her into the kid's room that she sleeps in--after another 2-hour nap on the couch--and I'm about to finish my last two chapters worth of adjective-slaying. Yes, in the middle of the night. I have always been a night owl to one degree or another. I need to fix that, but as long as I have edits to do, I'm not going to try to fix my broken schedule. I'll do whatever works. The dog doesn't seem to mind, and now that she's gone to bed at last, the cat is in my office with me, snoozing on the ottoman next to my desk. One snoozy animal or another.... Even asleep, they're good company. Makes me feel a little less like a vampire, though whether I'll ever be a perky morning person is another question altogether.

Priorities

I'm still blasting adjectives. At this point I'm a little over halfway done, and should now be able to finish a bit more quickly and move on to the few plot-related things that Bob and I discussed on the phone.

The past two weeks have been really busy for me, between my manuscript corrections, critting another Moxie member's manuscript (for her first book, which she has finally finished after a lot of hard work), getting costumes, etc. ready for Halloween, and then getting ready for our annual bellydance Hafla (sort of a party/bazaar/performance all in one) this weekend. My older daughter and I performed in one group dance and one duet, and since our bellydance wardrobes are still fairly limited, I had to do some costuming in order for us to have something special to wear this year.

Someone asked me why I spent a few days making costumes for the Hafla rather than working on my manuscript, when I had a deadline. The biggest reason is that my daughter isn't going to be an early teen forever. There will probably come a day when she no longer thinks performing on stage with Mom is cool--when she wants to do her own thing and hang out with cooler people than me. This Hafla only happens once a year, and other performances are rare for us. I have no way of knowing what will change in the next year or even the next month. (This is a teenager, after all.) Once I have the sought-after book contract, things will change in ways I may not be able to predict. If this should happen to be the only time we ever get to do a dance performance together, then I wanted it to be special. I needed (needed, not wanted) a new top for my costume, and she wanted something new as well. It took time--one of my most precious resources--but it was worth it. She loved the new top I came up with for her, and she looked wonderful in it. It made her look and feel pretty and raised her confidence, so it was worth every minute of my time. We shared a fun experience that brought us closer as mother and daughter, which made it priceless. The costumes and practices cost me many hours, but if I'd begrudged those hours, I could have regretted it for the rest of my life. Now that the Hafla is over, I'm back at work on my novel, and I'll still finish within the three-to-six week deadline Bob gave me. He said, "three weeks--six if you want to have a life." Well, I do want to have a life, and I want to live it in a state of balance.

Priorities. They need to be in balance, or else what's the point? I could easily be a workaholic. I could focus on the writing to the exclusion of every other pursuit or hobby. But I have the feeling that if I did that, I'd end up like so many other driven writers often do...with a dry well. And one day when my kids had fled the nest and gone off to live their separate lives, I'd wonder whether it was all worth it. I don't want to wonder what might have happened if I'd been more involved with my kids or the activities I love. I also don't want to wonder what might have happened if I'd been more devoted to my career. I want both, and somehow I will have both.