When Mediocracy is Good Enough

I watch America's Got Talent every week, crying when a contestant gets a standing ovation or the gold buzzer. Excited that they found their courage to take the step and share their talent with the world. But not all have that something. Most of them are average people hoping and dreaming they have that something special.

Aren't we all like that or am I the only one? Hoping deep inside, there is a talent that you can share with the world. Not to be famous, or make money but to be really really good at something. I have tried to learn so many things in my 60 some years. Ice skating, (could not do it) music--piano and the guitar and finally realized I am not musically inclined. Same with singing--my father told me to give it up. Ouch. And then I dreamed of acting but instead was given backstage duty in my senior play. I tried out for cheerleading, couldn't do the flips, and so I tried color guard. Not a chance. The list goes on. Is yours similar?

Then I turned to my love of writing. Surely someday I would be another Stephen King. Someone would read my book and make it into a movie. I'm sure all writers dream that dream. I'm no different. Finally reality stumbles through my door and reminds me that a zillion people write books. Few rise to stardom. Few books turn into Hallmark movies. Instead you must read reviews that make you cry, market into a vast void of emptiness and pat yourself on your back that at least you "did it."

I count the years I have left to pull out of average--out of mediocracy. Maybe if I studied harder. Wrote more often. Hired more editors. Maybe, maybe. Maybe I'm just not that good.

Ugh.

Like my musical ability or my physical abilities, maybe these other talents I'm trying to cultivate will always be hobbies and nothing more.

The question is: Is that ok? Can I live with being an average writer, photographer, etc. What if the one thing I'm good at will never be publicly applauded or recognized? What if the one thing I'm good at will always be between God and me? Is that enough?

Of course I know the answer. It's the answer that pops up each time after I work through another meltdown. Another reality check.

I have one audience and that is always enough. His applause deafens anything the world can bring at me.

When Self-Publishing Looks You in the Mirror

I can't believe I'm writing this post. Maybe I am because I want to make 2017 count. Maybe because I wasted time last year or maybe because I made major writing changes in the past six months. Who knows but as I type these words, part of me is screaming to run.

For over ten years, I've been against self-publishing. I felt it was only a last resort, not a viable option. I'd seen too many books with poor editing, misspelled words, and horrible plots. I didn't want to be one of those writers.

Was I a snob or what? Only Traditional for me. An agent. A publishing house. I wanted to be a real author. How else would I be valid?

Oh, I had it bad. 

If you read my last post, you remember I parted ways with my agent and have grown tired and frustrated and disillusioned with the writing process. My first novel was published traditionally. Since then, I've had what you call close but no cigar moments.

I realize a lot of factors come into play with the acceptance of any book, article etc. I also realize how scary it is to think your book is good enough to send out  without a team of experienced publishing people behind it.

But I also hope one or two more people might want to read what I have to say. That's all. I'm not expecting an avalanche of readers. Already did that and have found if you don't do the marketing, not much happens. So either way, it is work.

After spending so many hours, months and years in the publishing industry, starting with buying and selling books in my bookstore, noting what sells, what returns, and then finally writing myself, I'm not a newbie. I understand what it takes to sell. 

Not trying is giving up, though. 

Last night, a good writer friend and I played with a sample cover to start the process. I've written a suspense book and asked for her input as she was my beta reader. I told her I had a year to do this. I need that time to learn, ask questions, push my fears aside, and pray.

Publishing this book might be the last book I ever publish. Or not. For now I'm taking that first step. A baby one. Of course. But at least I'm doing and that's what counts. 

In the meantime, between panicking over this post and process, I'm writing a story for my granddaughter like I said I would. A romance. A modern-day find-your-prince book.

Just can't stop writing. Hope you don't either.