Running the Race--Carolyn R. Wilker

Carolyn R. Wilker

If you’ve ever engaged in any kind of sport, you know that just going out and doing it produces one result. If you were to prepare for the sport, warm up your muscles, learn the right way to do it, and get in a lot of practice, you may get a different result—perhaps success. 

When I was a young school girl, I found running races and doing the high jump challenging. My legs were shorter than many of my classmates, and I didn’t have the same amount of energy. With practice, I ran faster and jumped higher and further than before. I gained strength and became a better runner, more able, for example, to make it to first base in a game of softball, without being tagged out.

For those who don’t write, such comparisons may lack meaning. “Can’t you just write?” they ask. And my answer is that writers pay their due. Linda Hall, novelist from New Brunswick, practised on shorter news pieces first, probably writing words in the thousands and honing her writing ability even further before beginning a first long work. Likewise, N. J. Lindquist, author of young adult fiction and mysteries, began writing as a young girl, submitting stories to the newspaper. And perhaps Jayne E. Self, winner of the mystery category in the recent writing contest sponsored by The Word Guild, has always read mysteries and later began to write Murder in Mum Harbour.

Coming to writing a little later in life, I discovered that there’s much to learn, which helps me understand why an author can be preparing for many years before sending out a first book-length manuscript for publication. Just like practising piano or learning to hit a ball and run fast so I wouldn’t be tagged out. Getting the muscles in tune, warming up, and focusing on improvement.

Soon after I attended my first writer’s conference, The Word Guild came into being and made it possible for members to learn all they can about writing, using gifts given to us and being responsible in using that gift by presenting our best work.

Being part of a writer’s organization, I met other writers, had access to learning tools and workshops, conferences and mentors—writers who may not have necessarily known they were mentors. All good models for a novice to learn from. 

The Word Guild has grown too and expanded its writing contests, stressing excellence in writing, that we as Canadian Christian writers may be taken as seriously as our writers south of the 49^th parallel, and that we as Canadian Christian writers in our own country have as much opportunity to share our messages as our fellow Canadians, whether we write for secular or Christian markets.

In 2011, after much writing practice, editing and revision, my first book, Once Upon a Sandbox, was published. I cannot say I’m done running this race, if one can even call it a race; there’s always more to learn, and yet in submitting my book to the Life Stories category of the contest, I sucked in my breath and let my book go into the nether regions to be judged by people I did not know. To see where my work stood among so many others. I was delighted that my book was shortlisted and to be part of that anticipation on the gala evening.

Whether we call it a race or not, we’re developing our writing muscles and focusing energy on our craft, as a pianist or a ball player would work toward the best use of their talents. Using gifts we were given and developing them further, we strive to do our best so that our message reaches the world in its best possible form.

So if you’re a writer, exercise those muscles; sit down and write. The world waits. 

The Word Guild Awards Gala, June 13th, 2012, Mississauga, Ontario-- shortlisted books

Author of Once Upon a Sandbox

Editor of and contributor to Big Ideas for the Big Stage

My single resolution for 2010 - Lindquist

It’s pretty simple. My resolution for this year is that I’m going to ask for help. At least once a week, if possible. From people who aren’t married to me and didn’t come into this world because of me, and therefore don’t owe me anything.

I’ve never really liked asking for help. Don’t actually like asking people for anything, if it comes to that.

I grew up as an only child who spent an inordinate amount of time around older people, as well as an adopted child who very likely had some trust issues. So I became self-sufficient at a pretty early age. If I wanted to know something, I tried to find the answer by myself, usually through books.

I still tend to be that way. Of course, now that we have the internet, it’s even easier to find things out. For example, chances are 100% that if I go to my doctor to get his opinion on something, I’ve already got a list of all the possibilities from my own research.

But there are some things you can’t find in books. And some kinds of help where you need another person.

I also firmly believe that we were created to be in community, which implies needing each other, and that implies helping one another, which involves asking for help…

Earlier this week, I blogged about the fact that most people actually want to help others, but that we’re often too embarrassed to confess our need. But that’s not why I don’t like to ask for help. I don't at all mind acknowledging that I have needs. The reason I don’t like to ask is because I’ve had people say no. Well, a bit more than no….

One day when I was in junior high, I was having trouble with the math problems we were supposed to be doing in class. I’d missed a couple of days of school, and although I’d read the directions in my math textbook, my computations simply weren’t working.

Let me preface this by saying I was a good student, usually second or third in my class, quiet to the point where people assumed I was shy, never making waves. However, I did tend to miss a day or two of school each month, due to a vague kind of not feeling well, involving nausea and stomach aches. Now, I know it was likely a lactose-related problem. As a baby, I was put on buttermilk because I couldn’t drink milk. But that connection was never made, so no one, including our doctor, had any idea why I frequently didn’t feel well.

Back to the math class. Realizing I couldn't solve the math problems on my own, I put my hand up. The teacher walked over and asked me what I wanted. I said, “I missed a couple of classes and I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong. Could you please help me?”

And right in front of the entire class, my teacher exploded. “You think you can just miss school whenever you want and all you have to do is ask for help, don't you? You don't care what you missed. You think you’re special because your dad owns a store…” and on and on for several minutes, in a very bitter, very cold voice.

I sat there, numb, wondering what on earth I’d done wrong. I hadn’t skipped school; I’d been sick. I didn’t feel I was better than anyone else. I was completely stunned. And all I wanted to do was melt into the floor of the room.

In truth, I’d never liked the teacher, but that was more because I was a little afraid of her than for any other reason. Okay, the actual truth is that, for some reason, I was terrified of all my teachers throughout school, though I really don’t know why. But I still liked most of them well enough, and some I liked a lot. But not her.

While we all sat in shock, trying to pretend nothing had happened, the bell rang to end the class. Since the rest of the kids were as surprised as I was, nobody said anything to me, other than, “What on earth was that all about?”

But I had learned an important lesson. Asking for help can be dangerous. Not everyone wants to help you.

We lived in a very small prairie town, so after school that day, I walked downtown, as I often did. One of my friends lived on Main Street above the post office, so we’d go for a soft drink and then she’d go up to her place, and I’d walk down the rest of the street to our store, and say “Hi” to my dad, and then usually walk the five or six blocks to our house.

After school that day, for some reason I can't recall, I was alone on Main Street near the restaurant we congregated in when I saw my teacher walking toward me. Short of ducking inside the nearest store, I couldn’t avoid her. I did, however, move as close to the street edge of the sidewalk as I could. I would have passed by without looking at her, but she addressed me, and I stopped, keeping my distance. She apologized for what she’d said in class. Said she didn’t really know why she had said it. I said it was okay, and got away from her as fast as I could. And neither of us ever referred to that episode again.

Years later, thinking about that day, I realize there’s every possibility it wasn’t me, but my parents, that my teacher was angry with. She was a single parent who had to work to support her family. My dad owned a clothing store, and while we weren’t well-off, both of my parents dressed well, they hung around with the doctors and bankers in our town, and they gave an impression of success. My mother stayed at home and looked after the house and my dad and me. And had a nervous breakdown when I left for university. But that’s another story.

I expect my teacher saw me as a pampered, only child, and it was very likely a case of the "grass looking greener" combined with my teacher's having a really bad day. None of us know what’s actually going on in anyone else’s life. We just assume we do, and invariably we think “they” have it better or easier than we do.

The memory of that moment when my teacher berated me in front of my classmates for asking for help has stayed with me over the years, and I’m sure it enforced everything I’d already learned about not asking for help. Not exactly a good lesson for someone who wanted to become a writer, since writers are told "No" by editors and other people with regularity.

Of course, I've been told "No" after asking for help by other people too. But never quite so forcefully. However, each time, I've come away feeling as though it was wrong of me to ask.

And I realize that this feeling of my being at fault because I was bothering people by asking for help has to be a lingering effect from that unexpected encounter with my teacher. And I simply have to get over it.

So, in 2010, I’m going to ask for help. And if I get a "No," that’s okay. I’ll just ask someone else. I can do this. I’m not in junior high any more.


N. J. Lindquist

N. J. blogs on life at BlueCollarWriter.com

N. J.'s tips for writers at WriteExcellence.com

N. J. directs Write! Canada

N. J.'s latest book hotapplecider.ca

The movement to re-engineer writers - Lindquist

Writers—especially those who aspire to write books—are currently being told that the publishing industry is undergoing a massive change. That they need to take control of their destinies. That publishers expect them to sell up to 65% of the print run of their books. That it's only going to get worse.

As if it wasn't already difficult enough for us poor struggling writers who mostly just want to know that someone out there somewhere enjoys or benefits from our words!

I've watched enough CSI to know what it's like to be buried alive, and I feel somewhat like that. Terrified. Gasping for air. Hoping for someone to save me, but not sure there's any reasonable hope. Wondering if the joys of writing, and the delight of being read, are worth the agony of trying to be published.

I made a list of key things the typical aspiring author needs to do these days. I may be missing a few.

1. Be aware of all of the market trends (current topics, genres that are popular, etc.).

2. Know which agents and publishers are looking for what.

3. Stay current on new ways to publish. Should you give away your internet rights… look for a publisher who does ebooks... decide whether to go with one who does POD... go along with the Google settlement or not....

4. Read the work of others writing in your genre or niche and be able to tell your agent or publisher how your work compares to theirs.

5. Write several books each year that are not only unique and current, but also so well-written that they will barely need any editing by the publisher.

6. Create a “platform” by becoming known as an expert in your area of choice by writing articles or short stories for magazines, blogging, appearing on radio and TV programs, speaking to groups all over North America, actively appearing on the internet in relevant or popular social media sites, and doing everything else you possibly can to ensure that when your book actually comes out, it will sell lots and lots of copies.

What do I think of these expectations? Well, let's just go with "unrealistic."

I see four primary issues:

1. Psychology. The majority of the authors I know (and I know a lot of authors) are the very last people you’d want to hire to do publicity. Sure, there are exceptions, but a whole lot of them are sensitive, shy, introspective introverts. Being with people for a long period of time exhausts them. Talking about themselves and their writing terrifies them. “Selling” themselves or their books embarrasses them. Yes, they believe in what they do. And they think their work is good. But they don’t want to have to tell people it’s good. They need other people to tell them! They thrive on being told that someone wants to read their work.

I've been at mystery conventions and other conferences where authors were in the washroom literally throwing up out of nervousness because they had to be on a panel in a few minutes. A panel set up to help them become better known to readers who wanted to know about them. Not a difficult venue.

2. Finances. Most writers barely make any money at all. What's the average? $5,000 a year or something? Which means they either have an inheritance, a spouse with a real job, or another job themselves. Even in the best case, assuming you're an author who's able to focus on writing without having to starve—where do you find the money to do all the marketing you're supposed to do? Do you know what an ad costs in a magazine? What a really good website designer charges? The cost of traveling to do booksignings or attend conventions around the country? Sure, you can do things on the cheap, and hire your second cousin's son to do your website, or do it yourself, but the truth is that you usually do get what you pay for.

3. Time. If you want to write well, you have to focus on writing. And rewriting. And reading. And thinking. And writing some more. You can’t write well if your mind is spinning with all the other things you “should" be doing, like tweeting and posting on all the social media sites and keeping your website up-to-date and writing blogs and reading other people’s blogs so you can write comments so someone else will see your comment and check our your blog....

Unless you're writing something that meshes with the blogging and tweeting, doing all those things is going to make it ten times harder for you to write—especially if you’re writing a novel or a complex nonfiction book.

Plus you likely have other responsibilities, such as a family, parents, friends, etc. There simply aren’t enough hours in the week to do everything that authors are currently being expected to do. It defies logic.

4. Skillset. Not one of us has all of the skills that are needed to write, market and publicize a book. Sure, most of us can do a little bit here and thee. But no one will ever do everything well. Or, if we force ourselves to work at getting good at it all, the chances are excellent that we’ll become so exhausted we’ll simply burn out. Writers need to understand that this is a business, yes. But trying to be a one-man or one-woman business isn't going to make you successful. And the bottom line is that in order to do quality work, writers need to be able to focus on writing.

So where do we go?

As the publishing industry goes through major changes (see WriteWithExcellence.com), I believe writers need to work together to take on the responsibility of forging new paths for themselves. I don't think the answer lies in trying to become one-person publishing machines. But neither do I believe writers can afford to be as naive and dependent as many have been in the past—taking whatever contract is offered and being thankful just to get our work in print. Instead, I believe we need to seek out a new model that will help us all achieve our primary goal: to write something worthwhile that will be enjoyed by or benefit other people.

It's a new day. Let's talk to one other and throw out ideas and then work together to find a new model that works.

N. J. Lindquist
WriteWithExcellence.com

http://twitter.com/WriteExcellence

Listening with your mind and your heart - Lindquist

“Some people are uncoachable,” said the speaker, who was giving tips on mentoring others.

I nodded in agreement. I'd recently been thinking the same thing, and it was good to hear him affirm my thoughts.

Now, I've known for years that many people don’t want to be taught. But those aren't the ones he was referring to. He was talking about people who've actually come to you for advice and information.

The speaker said he tries very hard not to invest much time into a person who asks him a question and then doesn’t let him respond, or clearly ignores what he says, even if that person is offering to pay for his time. It's just not worth the frustration.

I totally agreed. Over the years, I’ve come across a number of people who, after coming to me for advice, clearly ignored my response. Oh, they may have let me get a few words out, but their body language and comments quickly led me to realize the question was simply an excuse for them to tell me what they thought was the right answer. I can only assume they wanted me to agree with them, and that was that. And when I didn't wholeheartedly agree, they wrote off everything I had to say. They weren't there to learn from me, but to get my affirmation for what they wanted to do, or maybe to impress me with their ideas.

It’s strange, really. I’ve never felt anyone has to ask for, accept, or act on my advice, but if they don’t even want to hear it, why waste my time by asking for it in the first place? Why not simply come and tell me what they think?

Let me give a fictitious example.

I find writers are some of the worst people for doing this. Especially new writers who have an idea (usually for a book).

So let's suppose I’ve just spoken to a crowd about some aspect of writing about your personal experiences. A person comes up and says to me, “I’m writing a book about my life. I was raised in a Christian home but I rebelled against God and my life was a mess. Then I became ill and prayed and God healed me. What do I need to do to get my book published?”

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that what most people asking this question want to hear is, “I know just the publisher for you! I’ll introduce you to the acquisitions editor, and I’m sure he'll be interested,” or “Just self-publish your book with X, and it will sell like wildfire.”

How likely is it that I’m going to say either of these things? 100% against. For starters, a good story is a dime a dozen. We all have at least one good story in us. But few of us know how to tell our story so well that others will take the time to read it, and fewer still know how to write with both creativity and excellence.

So my response is likely to contain titles of books they ought to read, joining The Word Guild, starting small with articles and stories and working up to a book, etc. Some people will listen and nod and ask great questions and go away with a few things to think about. Others will listen for a moment, but at the very first opportunity, they'll tell me they're going to go ahead and write the book their way and it will be a bestseller because God gave them the idea. Then they'll look at me as if daring me to disagree.

I used to waste my time and energy trying to help them understand the reality of the publishing industry. But eventually I learned it wasn't worth my time unless the other person was actually listening. Now, I just wish them good luck and move on to someone who actually wants my advice. It's so freeing to do that!

I used to feel that whenever I saw a need, it was up to me to try to meet that need. I always felt that I was the "responsible one." But I no longer feel that way. Maybe it has to do with getting older and realizing that my time is the most valuable thing I have, so I have to spend it very carefully.

And I also know that I have to stay coachable myself, because being uncoachable, or "having an unteachable spirit," as another person phrased it, is an all-too-common human characteristic, affecting everyone from the four-year-old who ignores her mother’s warning not to take the toy away from her baby brother, to the baseball player who won’t try his batting coach’s advice, to the doctor who won't listen to what the patient is trying to say. Any time we feel we feel we know everything we need to know about a topic, we’re in danger of becoming unteachable.

How do we avoid this?

By learning to set our own ideas aside for a time and listening with an open mind and a humble heart. We especially need to do this if we’ve asked someone for advice, if we’re talking to someone in authority over us or in a close relationship with us, or if we're with someone who might have first-hand insights into a topic we're learning.

If we assume we'll never know all there is to know about a subject, and go through life with teachable spirits, we’ll make new, amazing discoveries every day.


N. J. Lindquist is a popular inspirational speaker and the award-winning author of five coming-of-age novels for teens, two adult mysteries set in Toronto, and a regular column in Maranatha News, as well as the co-editor of Hot Apple Cider. She blogs at bluecollarwriter.com, offers advice for writers at writewithexcellence.com, and tweets at twitter.com/NJ_Lindquist

Neil Armstrong, My Grandmother's Death, and the Sewing Machine - Lindquist

40 years ago this week, I watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon, went to my grandmother’s funeral, and listened in astonishment as God told me to learn how to sew. Three things I’ll never forget.

I had turned 21 that January and graduated from Brandon University in the spring. I’d worked the previous summers, but that year, for some reason, no jobs appeared, and to be honest, I wasn’t all that concerned. I had a student loan and a teaching fellowship for grad school in the fall, and I appreciated having time to read mysteries and goof off before the heavy stuff began. Plus I could always work a bit in my dad’s clothing store.

When my grandmother died in Winnipeg, my dad and I drove the two and a half hours from Souris for the funeral. My mother was already there. We stayed at my aunt’s apartment, and I vividly remember my aunt and my parents buzzing around getting ready for the funeral while I sat mesmerized by what was happening on the TV. The others were aware, in a distant way, of the space flight, but after a week of hospitals and many hushed conversations, their minds were completely focused on the here and now of the funeral.

Just moments before we had to leave for the church, I watched Neil Armstrong walking around on the moon. When we stepped out of my aunt's apartment building, I looked up at the sky. How impossible it all seemed. Could a man really be walking on the moon?

Less than two hours later, we watched my grandmother’s coffin being set down into a rectangular hole in a new cemetery just off the Perimeter Highway. The place didn't look like a cemetery to me, but more like a large park with sprinkling of small plaques and flowers and a few trees dotting it.

Again, I was transfixed. How impossible it all seemed. Was that really my grandmother in the coffin. Was it only her body? Was her soul actually in another place none of us could see? Like Neil Armstrong walking on the moon?

Two days after the funeral and the moon landing, we were back home in Souris, and God told me I needed to learn how to sew.

Did I really hear his voice? Well, not the way I might hear my dad’s voice. But I was quite sure the little voice in my mind was God speaking to me. And I knew for sure that learning to sew wasn’t my idea.

My mother didn’t know anything about sewing. She could manage a button and maybe a hem that was coming down, but anything more than that and she hired someone to do it for her. And then there was the fact that my father owned a clothing store. In fact, I’d been helping choose the clothes to put in the store for years, and I got my own clothes at wholesale prices. Why should I learn to sew? I’d never even considered taking home economics.

But I knew beyond any doubt that God wanted me to learn.

Being a fairly independent person, I went to a local store that carried a small selection of sewing materials and chose the easiest pattern and the cheapest fabric they had. When my parents asked me what I was doing, I told them I wanted to learn to sew. As far as I knew, they'd never recognized God's voice talking to them, so I didn’t say anything to get them worrying that I was hearing voices.

I followed the directions on the pattern, cutting out the material and sewing the seams with a needle and thread. It was a dress with only two pieces—back and front—and wide sleeves—kind of a short muu muu. The material was red with various dots all over it.

To my surprise it worked. It even fit, although I never wore it out of the house—not with that material!

I then found a fairly easy pattern for pants with an elastic waistband and a top without sleeves that opened like a vest and had a sash. No buttons, zippers, or frills. I chose some inexpensive yellow material that I sort of liked and went to work, again sewing it all by hand. Once more, it fit. This one I actually wore in public.

For my third attempt, I chose a really nice red polyester material and a pattern for a dress with short sleeves and buttons down the front. I made the dress by hand, right up to sewing on the buttons, but my mother paid someone to make the buttonholes. It was quite wearable and the seamstress was impressed.

Summer ended and I went off to university, my sewing done for now.

A year and a half later—a whirlwind year in which I started, then dropped out of grad school, ended up in Bible college, took a summer course in teaching, and found myself teaching high school English—my father bought me a sewing machine for Christmas. Not long after that, he sold his clothing store and retired to Brandon.

While I was teaching, I made most of my clothes. For the first two years of marriage, my husband attended university and I took a correspondence course in writing. God took care of our financial needs. And I sewed pretty well anything we needed, from curtains to duffel bags for camping.

Later, when my husband was hired by IBM and needed tailor-made suits because of his broad swimmer’s shoulders, I learned to make men’s suits. I also made most of our first son’s clothes, including his sleepers, as well as myriad other things, from a bassinet to bedspreads to hangings for the walls.

I haven’t done as much sewing in recent years, but it’s so handy to be able to hem a pair of too-long pants, change up a garment that isn’t quite right, or throw together a costume.

Was it a good idea for me to learn to sew?

Absolutely.

Do I still think God told me to learn?

Who else knew how useful the ability to sew would be for me?

But then, I also believe God showed various people how to do the things necessary to get a rocket ship to the moon, and—even more amazing—back to earth again!

And I believe that this life is only a prelude to the next one, and that it’s completely possible for a soul to be gloriously alive while the body it lived in for a time is decomposing in a grave.

The problem is that God doesn’t always tell us why He wants us to do something—just that we should do it. And it’s up to use to go ahead in faith, just as Neil Armstrong and the rest of the crew acted in faith, believing that a rocket could actually get people to the moon.

So my best advice, for anyone, is to listen to God’s gentle voice and do whatever He says.

N. J. Lindquist

http://bluecollarwriter.com

http://twitter.com/NJLinquist

http://facebook.com/njlindquist

http://writewithexcellence.com

Looking at the Flip Side

Yesterday, I discovered something new about myself.

I've always told people I hate doing research. I thought it was true. I know other novelists who set their books in real locations and do meticulous research - even traveling around the world - to make sure that every single nuance of their books is accurate, from the names of streets and restaurants to the way their characters talk and dress. Just thinking about having to do all that work makes me tired.

And yet, I’m not a lazy person. Far from it. So, why do I hate doing research?

Yesterday, I had an epiphany. It’s not so much that I dislike doing research as it is that I like creating new worlds. And I realized that every one of my novels is in its own world in some way or another.

My four Circle of Friends novels are set in a small town in the prairies I named “Wallace,” not unlike the towns in Manitoba and Saskatchewan where I grew up in and taught school. It isn’t any of those towns, but it has little aspects of each in it because I know how it feels to live in a small town.

I had great fun creating Wallace - deciding where Main Street would be and where the school would be and where each of my characters would live; figuring out where the highway would be, and so forth. I drew it all out on a piece of Bristol board, creating my own map. Later, I found the map very helpful in unexpected ways. Just looking at it, picturing what the town would look like if it was real, gave me additional ideas for the plots.

In Time of Trouble is set in the suburbs of a city, but I never use the name of the city. It’s a bit like Toronto, but not really. In a way, it could be any city. All I know is that I see it in my head as I wrote. I see the characters driving or walking on the streets. I see the house they live in. The image of Shane in the playground leaning against the swings is particularly strong. I not only see it, but I can smell the air and feel the coldness of the metal pole and the falling snow.

The Manziuk and Ryan mysteries are set in Toronto, but it’s a mythical Toronto. I give the police jurisdiction over the entire area, and ignore a lot of the red tape that would hamper a real police investigation. That's because my focus is on the character and the plot, and I'm not trying to give a picture of a realistic Toronto police investigation. At the same time, I did do a lot of research on forensics and other relevant aspects of the plot and the people involved. While working on Shaded Light, I had fun creating an estate that used to be owned by a mafia family. I had a ball when writing Glitter of Diamonds, creating my own baseball dome and team and a sports radio station.

But what made me realized I love creating worlds is that I recently wrote a children’s fantasy, The Misadventures and Tribulations of Princess Persnickety. For that book, I got to create everything – a whole new planet, the kind of beings who live there, all the lands and cities and vegetation and everything. And doing that was very, very cool.

And the funny thing is, I actually did a ton of research in order to create a logical, interesting new world.

So I'm no longer going to consider myself someone who hates doing research. Instead, I now know that I’m really someone who loves to create new worlds. And I can't wait to create more.

Hmm. I wonder how many of my other weaknesses are actually strengths if looked at from the other side?

N. J. Lindquist

www.njlindquist.com

N. J. blogs on life at http://njlindquist.wordpress.com/

N. J. blogs on writing at http://bluecollarwriter.wordpress.com/

Do I Really Need to Be Passionate About My Writing? – Lindquist

A few lines I read in a book recently took a huge load off my shoulders. Well, not literally. More accurately, they stopped my brain from pacing around and around in circles inside my skull. They opened a door in my mind and let all my anxious thoughts escape, freeing me.

For years, I’ve heard that you need to figure out who your target audience is and write books, blogs, articles, etc. all geared to that market. It’s called branding. And these days you hear it everywhere. In fact, I even tell people that myself. It’s good advice.

Donald Maass, literary agent and author of the book, Writing the Breakout Novel, says you need at least four novels that appeal to one particular audience before your audience starts to “know” you (i.e. you break out from the pack). I’ve heard other authors say it took them 5 or 6 or even 7 similar books to get known in their field.

It makes perfect sense. You want to be remembered, and it’s easier to be remembered if you have one dominant characteristic. When you think Tupperware, an image of good plastic storage bowls and other dishes comes to your mind. You don’t have to wonder if you’re talking about dishes or shelving or raincoats.

So when you think N. J. Lindquist, you should think… Ah, there’s the problem. What exactly should you think?

I’ve had a number of conversations with editors and agents who’ve asked me what I write, but when I started to tell them, held up their hands and said, “Just give me the one book you’re passionate about writing.”

And I flounder. I honestly don’t know which book I’m passionate about writing!

At this moment in time, I have no fewer than 20 partially written books.

I pull out the file folders and plastic bins they sit in, and I gather them on a table in front of me. At one time or another, I’ve obviously been passionate about all of them. But at this moment, do I feel any passion at all? No, mostly what I feel is bewilderment. What's wrong with me that I have 20 books I want to write? And why, when I start to think about working on one of them, do the rest all start shouting in my head, “What about me?” “Don’t forget about me?”And from not being passionate about any of them, all of a sudden I’m passionate about ALL of them, and I want to write them all, at once, right now.

Argh!!!!!!

So there I was a few weeks ago reading Barbara Sher’s book, Live the Life You Love (which I heartily recommend you read right after her other books I Could do Anything If I Only Knew What It Was, and, if you’re anything like me, Refuse to Choose: A Revolutionary Program for Doing All That You Love), and there on page 77, she said, "When you start doing the work you were born to do, you don’t feel passion. What you feel is that nothing is missing." (From Live the Life You Love, Barbara Sher, page 77)

Comfort? Like an old friend you can sit down beside and not have to worry whether you combed your hair or if you have stains on your shirt.

Comfort? Like the feeling that you're in the right place at the right time.

And I realize that this is exactly what I feel. Comfort. About each one of my 20 or so books. Comfort about not having to focus on one type of writing.

Maybe my brand should simply be “woman who has all sorts of interests and writes what she pleases.” So what if I never break out or have a best seller. So what if I'm not held up as an example of how a writer should behave. I have a feeling I'll have a lot of fun.

Now all I have left is to figure out how to write 20 – okay, what if we start with four? – books at the same time. One book on writing; one contemporary novel; one adult mystery; and one children’s fantasy chapter book. And I can keep up my blogs, too. After all, I have so much more to say about being healthy and loving your family and dressing for success and country music and baseball and elderly dogs and celebrating your creativity and… Oops getting a little lightheaded. But this is me!!!!

If you want to know what I’m thinking about life in general, read here.

If you’ve read my newest book Hot Apple Cider and want to comment, go here…

To read the opening to my children’s fantasy, click here.

If you’re interested in my advice about writing, go here.

I recently blogged on "point of view" in fiction on Fiction Matters.

My regular column on the body of Christ is in the Maranatha News.

My main website is here.

P. S. The photo shown here was taken at the UrbanThink bookstore in Orlando Florida where I was signing my mystery novel, Glitter of Diamonds, a couple of weeks ago.

P. P. S. I will post pictures of my signing of Hot Apple Cider at ICRS in Orlando on the Hot Apple Cider site.

P. P. P. S. My teen books are feeling neglected, so here's a link to them.

Off to have fun and be comfortable. :)