Confessions of a writer

“I stood in front of the mirror – cleanser in one hand, wad of tissues in the other; desperately trying to hold it together. Trying to hide the gut wrenching disappointment from my unsuspecting family – all immersed in the early morning buzz of normality; as I battle wits with the overwhelming weight of failure. Of course I had experienced rejection before; the initial butterflies at the sight of a name on an incoming email or letter in the post; followed closely by the tidal wave of nausea. Usually however after about ten minutes of cussing and using the lord’s name in vane I would bounce back with a new level of resolve; all the while spouting how it was their losses not mine.

But – inevitably comes that moment in time when the big one hurts; or in my case – a double whammy! This morning’s post held a new level of self destruction. A neat little letter, with a picture of a penguin; I knew straight away what it meant. It of course was thanks but no thanks with little else. Made all the more devastating by the fact they had my entire manuscript rather than just a submission query. Then the big one – in the literal sense. A package from a courier – the writing on the front – my own! There was only one way I would get a package from myself; sure enough – my manuscript from Random house. The letter was mildly more informative; but with a twist. “We don’t often take children’s books”...it said. I barfed! Had I been barking up the wrong genre tree? I had after all this time thought I was writing for Teens or at the outside – Young Adults. Certainly with the some what sensual content of several of the chapters I wouldn’t want my children as younger ones to read it. Now I wasn’t only gutted but also doubly confused.

Then the realisms started to hit me. I had in all honesty never expected a New Zealand Publisher to be interested in my work. After all, the lack of parochial NZ place names, cultural references and lack of comments about silver ferns and kumera was always going to have it on the back foot! But the bigger sickening picture? The only place it would ever truly belong, accepted or even considered was a country slumped in a Publishing down turn with a pool of writers a hundred times bigger than here.

The final crush was when I looked back at my blotchy sodden face and considered the over baring truth. Maybe I wasn’t really a writer at all. Maybe, just maybe I was as I always knew just a mum, with a job who liked to write. And just maybe I needed to accept that my destiny – in a parochial country the size of hours – was the same as it always had been. Where it has been for the last forty – five years: at home.

I sucked in a calming breath and flung the cold water at my face. I reached for the ever dependable make-up and painted on the lie that said it was after all just another day. Another struggle in the cold confessions of a writer”

Post it Notes!

I've decided that blogs and twitter appear to be a bit like a post it note. There's a pretty high potential for them to become a medium to just communicate with yourself...gutted!!!!

Hiding in wholes

It's amazing what lengths a writer will go to when trying to find that head space to write. With five teenage kids, a job and a gregarious husband...you can go to exstremes. I'm eternally grateful to the inventors of the i-pod and The Verve and Muse for their help in creating the head space I need...

A short womans guide to pruning tall trees!!

Hey everyone..this is my first of many posts. My first completed novel- The Castle is out there in the agent search wilderness! Its sequal - The Portal is well on the way. Join me in this journey as a little kiwi tries her hand at the publishing game and all its highs and lows .....