Busy Busy - and WTF was she thinking?

I've been a bit slack on the blogging scene recently. I've been a bit busy y'see.

Since my last entry, I've had a birthday. Yay!, read a truckload of books - notably Nicola Cornick and Mary Balogh, installed new windows and AC upstairs, had a mammogram and ultrasound check up, and last but not least - been invited to join some friends on holiday in Italy for 10 days in September!

Guess which one I'm most excited about?

Of course now I'm thinking why the Hell did I choose to get the windows replaced this year of all years! Perhaps I could have left them another year... or three.

But the land costs of the trip to Italy aren't THAT high... and if I can find a cheap airfare....

In the midst of all of this kerfuffle, I'm still working close to full time and trying to recapture my love of writing.

It's not going well - the writing side of things, that is.

Granted, I've been trying to write 1500 words almost every night since late 2005 - and perhaps it is time to take a break. Lord knows I'm not managing anything like those numbers now.

But something happened a few weeks ago that has made me really cynical about what constitutes a writer. The question is, is someone a writer simply if she writes or does she need to be published to have the right to call herself one?

I used to think it was pretty simple actually. But maybe it's not.

Here's what set me off.

Someone I know has ventured into publishing on the strength of her FFs. I know this because it was trumpeted very loudly on FB some weeks ago.

Frankly I was shocked to hear this because her stories were never ones I'd rated particularly highly - for a whole bunch of reasons that I won’t go into here.

I asked myself how on earth could she have gotten herself published? And it struck me that perhaps her writing had vastly improved in the years since we'd corresponded and that she HAD managed to attract the attention of an agent - the lucky devil.

My second reaction was ‘How bloody dare she?’

Sighh. I know that makes me a very bad person. Or maybe just terribly insecure.


Now fast forward a few weeks. After the fanfare on FB died down, I discovered that this has been a self-publishing venture. Knowing this should have relieved me. But she has gone all out with it- to the extent she has set up a website to publicise and sell the book herself.

‘Hmm I don’t think so’ I thought and found a free excerpt on the site instead. This was one selected from an earlier story, presumably to showcase her talents to the punters before they part with their cash

I’m ashamed to say that I pounced on it - and then I gaped in disbelief.

Y’see, it was really, really bad. It was quite simply chock-a-block with the most basic mistakes a novice writer can make. I know this because I’ve made all of those mistakes myself. But I also know that I don’t make those particular mistakes any more.

Of course that is just my opinion.

I mean, what do I know? I’m not agented. I’ve never sought publication (although maybe one day…). It’s just me being a bit ‘sour grapey!’ isn’t it?

Well no. Actually it’s a little more than that.

This whole exercise has gotten right up my nose. She seems to believe she is a Writer (with a capital W… You know, a proper one?)and is enjoying playing Gracious Author to her fan.

She’s got the fancy website, gorgeous artwork highlighting the older stories, accompanying music, a glowing bio about her writing influences - including how she is responding to the urges of her worldwide fans to publish, her intention of using a particular linking device in all her future books etc etc.

I think I might vomit.

It’s a pity she hasn’t spent her time learning how to write well, rather than focusing her energies on 'getting her name and writing out there' to quote her.

So is she a writer?

Is she kidding herself? Is she going to take a financial bath?

And why should I care?

Is it because I desperately want to earn the right to call myself a writer - and know it is true?

I'm not sure I know the answer to this one. All I know is that seeing her stuff out there leaves me with a slightly nasty taste in my mouth.

Snark.