Saturday, May 26, 2007

The Solitary Life of a Writer...until publication by Margot Justes

I write because I love to see words create an image, capture the imagination. I have learned how to tell a story.

As writers we sit in our offices, or in tiny spaces reserved just for us. Solitude..we are in harmony with our environment. I won't even have a phone in my office.

We tell our stories, but all of us want to get published, to get validated. Think about what happens once you get that phone call.

It happened to me, Echelon Press said yes. Nirvana hit, I was going to be published. Did I think what was going to follow, absolutely not. My name was going to be in print. My books were going to be sold. But were they? Who is going to know about me, my name is not Nora Roberts or James Patterson (I guess that's good, the James part at least) I will not automatically be on the best seller list.

Karen Syed, my publisher said work on your name recognition, start now. Is she right, absolutely, she is the expert. Now comes the dilemma, the solitude evaporates, and we must suddenly throw ourselves into the public arena.

We must blog, write articles, create contests, make public appearances, attend conferences and promote our books. Does that make us better writers, maybe, does that get our name out there in cyberspace, nationally and locally, absolutely. Do we collectively grow stronger, more assured, I believe so.

We learn how to promote ourselves, because that is what we are selling. But the dichotomy continues, writing is a solitary endeaver, selling that writing most assuredly is not.

Till Saturday,

Margot Justes
A Hotel in Paris
Echelon Press, June 2008

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