My WiP is making me fat. Jelly Bellies are not calorie-free, and when I’m drafting, I eat them like it’s my job.
I am currently working on my fourth young adult manuscript. At no point has the process become any easier.
If my house caught fire, I’d save my laptop before my wedding album. (I’d save my husband before my laptop, though, so I’m not entirely heartless.)
I feel intensely proud when my daughter says she wants to be a writer when she grows up.
I feel intensely uncomfortable when an acquaintance asks if I’ve sold my manuscript yet.
In the name of research, I Google things that should probably have me committed. Or arrested.
I am most motivated by kissing scenes. If I know there’s one coming up, it’s easy to push through to that point.
One of the best parts of my writerly life is reading the work of my CPs. I’ve lucked into relationships with some of the most talented and amazing writers around.
My WiP scares the shit out of me. Daily. (I think that means I’m doing it right?)
My agent is so savvy. She makes me laugh and she makes me think and she makes me a stronger writer. I feel fortunate to be able to work with her.
If I don’t eventually land a book deal, I will be heartbroken. I’m not one of those people who writes solely for the joy of it. I want to produce quality, sellable stories. I want a profession.
More often than not, the Dorothy Parker quote I hate writing, I love having written, sums of my process perfectly.
What are your writerly truths?