Yep, it’s that time again. Actually, it’s a little late for me to get started on Rocktober. But here we are. The days are counting down and …

I have space at The Rock of Pages for Rocktober this year. Lots of space.

If you’re an author of Rock Fiction, come on over and write me a guest blog about anything, although we all seem to like the “how I named my rocker” posts.

If you’re a reviewer or reader, I’ll gladly reblog any reviews you’ve written. Send it on in HTML and we’ll get it up.

If you’re not an author, reviewer, or reader but want to do something else, holler. It’s Rocktober, so pretty much anything goes. It’s about what happens when books and music — all music, not just rock and roll — collide, so have at it.

As I try to do every year, let’s have this year’s Rocktober outdo last year’s.

I first noticed it a year or two ago: unless it was a fantasy set in a different world or a Regency romance, almost every book I worked on was guaranteed to have a gun in it. Mystery? But of course there were guns, and not merely the service weapons that cops carry and, hopefully, rarely remove from their holsters. No, I was seeing guns that were pulled out. Pointed at people, safety off and finger on the trigger. Guns that were discharged, often with muzzle flares and smoke coming off the tip afterward and even more often with no regard for that thing called aim. Or concern for collateral damage — you know, the people and things that will be killed, ruined, damaged by a bullet that didn’t hit its intended target.

There was rarely, if ever, anything approaching safety other than flipping the gun’s safety off.

Always flipping the safety off.

Now, I belong to a sportsmen’s club, almost exclusively so that my kid has a close and really darn good archery range. I have shot, on occasion, myself, although the 12 gauge shotgun in July — which definitely had a safety that couldn’t be flipped, at least by my fingers — proved that my elbow injury interferes with what is essentially a fun activity. There is something very satisfying about finding you measure up to a target, although those flying orange ones continue to give me nightmares. They don’t move nearly that fast when you are merely watching!

At my club, and at the clubs friends and family have taken me to as a guest, and at the club we’ve been to with the Scouts, and even on the archery ranges, safety is the Number One concern. Reverence for the gun, for what it can do, comes a close and related second.

There’s nothing approaching safety or reverence of the weapon in any of these books. Guns are … taken for granted. Everyday objects that are essential to keep the hero safe.

Now, maybe that familiarity is part of the culture. I’m not entirely certain. I know that my club is full of cops, who use the range to keep their skills sharp. So you’d think if there’s a setting in which guns would become second-nature, this would be it. But… nope. The number one rule is safety: always point the gun downrange. Never put your finger on the trigger until you are ready to shoot. And more. So much more. Safety comes first. Reverence for the firearms is a close and related second.

My neighbor is a cop. His wife was hit by a drunk driver on the highway a few years back, and the first thing that happened when the police arrived was she said to the responding officers, “My husband is on the job. This is his car. There’s a firearm in it.”

We don’t see this in fiction. We see people whipping guns out, firing at will. We almost never see characters open the action, eject the spent cartridge.

In almost every book, we see guns.

This bothers me.

It bothers me every time I flip on the news to hear of another shooting.

It bothers me every time I have to go to school or my temple. Cameras. Sign-in procedures. Show a driver’s license. Ring a doorbell. Wave to the cop on the campus.

Now, I’m not going to go so far as to say that as fiction writers, we have a responsibility to change this country’s gun culture (for the record, a lot of my international clients have guns in their manuscripts, as well). Every single person, regardless of who you are, has a responsibility to help change the gun culture.

The best way is through education. If you’re going to write a book that has guns in it, know what you’re talking about. Take a class at a sportsmens club; many offer classes to non-members. Talk to your instructor, make friends with someone who shoots. Since I joined the club, I’ve been surprised by how many friends and family have outed themselves to me as fans of recreational shooting. Every single one is willing to take me out, teach me a few things, give me practice. I’m grateful for their offers. These are ambassadors of firearms. The message is simple: educate yourself. Learn to do it right. Have fun with it.

Put yourself in your protagonist’s shoes. How does it feel to pull that trigger, knowing someone may die? How does it feel to be reliant only on a gun for protection? Most of these fictional characters don’t spend hours and hours on a range, perfecting their aim. Yet somehow, in the movies and in fiction, their aim is always true. The bad guy dies.

Ever stop to consider what you’d do if you missed? What you’d do if a gun was pressed to your own temple?

When I was in grad school, I had a friend. He wrote mysteries. Before he got to grad school, he drove a cab. He had guns pointed to his head. And let me tell you, his reaction, each and every time, was the sort of thing I have never seen in fiction. Ever. Because our heroes need to keep their cool. They can’t panic. They can’t give in to their body’s natural reaction.

How true to life is that?

So here’s my challenge. While I don’t believe it’s incumbent on us fiction writers to write firearms entirely out of our fiction, it’s incumbent on us to be completely solid in our fictional uses of them. That’s the first part of the challenge: write what you know. Old advice, right? Flip that around: learn about what you want to write about. Guns. Cooking. Fancy chairs if your hero is a wedding planner. Know your stuff.

But also, while guns are always going to be vital in certain books, see if you can come up with climaxes and penultimate scenes that don’t involve guns. Can we get away from the trope of the abused ex-wife who pulls a gun and shoots her abuser dead? Let’s think about what would happen in real life if that happened: the survivor would be taken to jail while the situation was sorted out. And the kids? Quite possibly (but not always) thrown into the system, at least temporarily.

To me, the kids are more important than being the one who is ultimately responsible for the ex’s downfall. Put the gun away. Find another conflict, another way to bring things to their highest point of tension and breaking point. Maybe it’ll lack the drama of a gun, but … well, think MacGyver. What sort of situation can you create that sets the situation on its peak, but doesn’t involve a gun?

I’ve been writing again — over 8k since last Friday, which isn’t bad when you consider how busy my life is — and there are going to be no guns in my manuscript. There could be, easily so. But I want my story to be realistic, and frankly, guns will be the antithesis to the world in which my story is set. They don’t fit here. People working problems out in different ways do.

So I challenge you: can you come up with a story that leaves the guns at home? Can you educate yourself so if you do use guns, the experts won’t laugh, shake their heads, and toss your book aside?

Small changes, yes. But if everyone makes a small change, won’t it add up to be one big change?

…and there it was again. A post in a writer’s group on Facebook. “I got a bad review! Oh, no! What do I do!”

I don’t understand why it’s so hard for us to understand how to respond: you do nothing.

However, this turned out to be the exception. A few others in the group did a bit of digging into the reviews this book had generated. “You need an editor,” a bunch of people responded. “Every single review that’s been posted mentions the bad proofreading.”

So… I chimed in. “I’d be glad to proof your book for you. I actually do a fair number of proofing books that have been published but have gotten dinged for bad reviews.” The author asked for my rates. I gave them and told her that if they were too high for her, I’d work with her to reach something she could afford. Implicit in that was the idea that I ain’t working for Oreos. I extended the offer to anyone in the group in need of what I can do for them.

And then… the thread bogged down. The people who told her to do nothing, including editing her book. The people who loudly told her to unpublish the book and have it edited. A few told her to take advantage of the people offering their services (at that point, it was me and someone who offered to let a friend do it. No clue what the credentials were, which means there probably weren’t any).

My favorite was the author who said the reviews had been left by editors who were trying to drum up business.

Wow. Just… wow.

I doubt that author’s going to reach out to me, to be honest. Look at all that advice, and look at all those opinions. How does a person know who to trust?

By the time I gave up on it, people (again, of dubious qualification) were offering to proof this poor book for free. A debate was raging over the spelling of the title. But it’s a fantasy book, and in fantasy, you can take liberties with certain spellings.

But once again, it makes me wonder. It makes me wonder about so many things, I get bogged down, myself.

* What’s it take to raise above the noise and prove how very good I am at what I do and help more of these people?

* Is it worth hiring a staff of really good subcontractors to reach out to these authors and offer a Post-Publication Oh, No service? If so, what would be a fair charge?

* How the heck do I even find a staff of really good subcontractors? Most of the people I talk to have their own client lists, their own full calendars. The folk who are struggling often (but not always) reveal themselves in various ways to not be up to my standard with their knowledge base. Sorry, but if you’re sourcing on Facebook for help, you’re not West of Mars material.

And more.

I get both sides of the equation. I do. Good editing isn’t cheap. Finding a good editor isn’t easy, especially when you have been surrounded by the wrong people — the ones who bog you down in false flattery. That makes it hard to hear a good editor’s truth. It makes you feel like maybe you threw an awful lot of money away. That maybe you’re not as good as you thought you were.

I get it. I do.

But I also get the idea that if you want to make a serious go of a career as a writer, you can’t get bogged down in this false flattery. You can’t get bogged down by the bad reviews. You need to assemble the best team you can to help you be the best writer of the best book. Nothing else should be your goal. Ever.

So that when you are in that “Oh, no! Bad review!” panic, the advice to do nothing is the right advice. Because let’s face it: you can fix a poorly edited book. You can’t fix the online reviews that talk about how poorly edited your book is. (well, if you unpublish and then republish under a new title, you can, but even that has serious pitfalls.)

It’s your career. Get it right before you hit that PUBLISH button.

It was supposed to be a quickie road trip. In, out. Lots of time in the car and not nearly enough with the family. But when you’re with your favorite cousin (sorry gang, but ’tis true. Always has been), when air traffic goes down in DC, stranding a teen roughly the same age as your own and you want to be backup just in case the next three planes don’t fly (two didn’t), well, the short little visit got to be longer.

What’s this got to do with writing and editing? Well, I’m a day behind, that’s for sure! I’d planned to take last Friday off for the long trip down. And I’ll admit that I’d played with the idea of staying to yesterday. Just hadn’t expected to.

But more to the point. I run out of fingers and toes, those essential counting implements, when I try to think of the number of author friends and clients who have tried to write a short story or novella, only to realize there was more story there than they originally wanted to tell. Same thing for the friends and clients who outline before they write. The story takes hold and takes over.

And that’s my point today (although I really really want to rant about the misspelled book title. Seriously? People, you give literature a bad name!). To give in, to cede control every now and then. Let the story take you where it needs to go. Let it reveal itself, its twists and turns, its neat little character traits, to you. Let it be the proverbial onion that you peel away, layer by layer, ring by ring.

This is a first draft technique, to be honest. I’ve edited books where the author has let the plot get away from them and they haven’t been able to see it happening. (In these cases, I advocate scene cards) Their book turns into a hot mess and it’s next to impossible for me to straighten it out because at this phase, I don’t know what story you are trying to tell. Only you know which elements of the unwieldy plot are the ones you want to bring out. I can only make suggestions and hope they are the right ones.

Which means that yes, I advocate going nuts on your first draft. I say often enough that first drafts are for finding out where the story ends. Then, through revision and work with beta readers, figure out how to make the beginning and middle match your ending. (If you get into trouble along the way, or if you think you’ve got it but aren’t 100% certain, then you should bring in a content editor, either myself or a good friend of mine.)

Writing is a craft, remember.

But it’s in this early stage that short becomes long. This is the time to give control to the story. To extend your trip by a day because you truly don’t want to leave (is a move in my future?) or to turn a short story into a novel.

Then go back and winnow it down. Figure out what you put there because you, the author, need to know this information. Figure out what of that information helps you create a living, breathing character but is stuff the reader doesn’t need to know. Less experienced authors, you will be surprised by this! More experienced authors, you’re scoffing and saying yes, you get how it is. But stop scoffing a moment and go back to a time when you were struggling with this concept. And then take a good, hard look at your own manuscripts. Just to be on the safe side.

My extended trip gave me a lot to think about. It widened my horizons (and let me set foot in another National Park… another one I’ve got unfinished business with) and let me experience things I hadn’t expected to.

I’m a better person for it. And when I sit down to write and edit, it’ll make me a better writer and editor.

Happy writing. Happy revisions. And don’t forget to book your editing slots; fall’s filling up!

At the start of the summer, I decided that I was going to have a cardio summer at the Hoity Toity Health Club. It sounded like great fun: try to bike 300 miles and either walk or elliptical for 30. I had from the first day of summer vacation until the last to accomplish this.

And, me being me, the idea was really to see how many miles over 300 and 30 I could get.

But about halfway through the summer vacation, I realized something: while the challenge was a great way to motivate me to get myself back into the gym on a routine basis — the underlying reason for this silliness — I was neglecting something extremely important: strength training. And it was starting to show. Bones were beginning to dislocate, and I was having pain.

It was, of course, time to regroup, refocus, and yes, throw the challenge out the window.

I don’t like to say I failed so much as I came to realize I had to pursue a better path. I had to adjust to the circumstances and improve the situation.

So I did. No big deal. Fewer miles got walked and pedaled. Weights began to be lifted. I haven’t fully recovered my strength, but I’ve stopped the worst of the carnage.

Likewise, when we’re writing, sometimes, we have to throw the plan out the window and regroup. Yes, we may have to do it on the fly. Sometimes, we may get to the end of our first draft and look up and think, “Well, this ending doesn’t line up with the beginning.” We may have to work up a set of scene cards and take a good, hard look at the project from that viewpoint. Outlines may meet the recycle bin.

It’s not always as easy as waking up to realize that while you slept, you have a new dislocation that’s making it feel like someone sunk a knife into your butt and the pain’s radiating down your leg.

But sometimes, it is.

Doesn’t matter, though. What matters is that you can take that deep breath and do what’s best for your book. Yes, you may have spent hours or days or weeks on your outline, only to have to abandon it and fly by the seat of your pants. Maybe you realize that you began flying by the seat of your pants and deviated from the outline, and now you need to go back.

Doesn’t matter.

What matters is having the smarts and the guts and the dedication to regroup and realign. To delete pretty writing or scenes that make you laugh or cry.

Keep the focus on telling the best story you possibly can, and be ruthless in your pursuit of that goal. What isn’t important here is where you planned to end the journey. It’s what you learn about yourself, about your book, along the way.

I promise your book will be better for it. And just maybe, so will you.

Yes, I love Mondays! I have for a long time: it used to be that the house would empty out and I’d get my solitude to work in. But it’s summer vacation and that means the house is rarely empty during the work week right now. The kids are old enough, though, to let me work like they’re not around — although they are interesting people, so I like to see what they’re up to, who they are online with, what games they’re playing, what they’re making me for lunch (hey, that actually worked a time or two!).

In terms of work, because I don’t like to wrap a project over a weekend when I can avoid it, Mondays mean starting a fresh project. A new manuscript, a new set of characters (or some old friends), another chance to spend time shaking my head in admiration of my client’s genius.

Speaking of genius, I just discovered the utter brilliance of the creative minds behind one of my all-time favorite shows: the name of lead character John Crichton. Yeah, I’m behind the 8-ball on this one … or am I? Do you guys get the brilliance? I am blown away.

Know what else blows me away? I checked my Amazon numbers for the books, to discover that someone had paid money for a copy of Mannequin! As you know, for some reason, it’s free everywhere BUT Amazon. That winds up in Mannequin being my most returned book at Amazon–people are pretty clearly making it free their own way, instead of helping me out and reporting it to them as free elsewhere. So to see a copy sold and not returned always makes me happy.

After the Pennwriters Conference last May, I started writing again. I’ve jumped projects — I think I got started on a comfort project until I could get back into the discipline and mindset of writing, and now I’m working on something serious. Not sure when you’ll see it. Definitely not Rocktober 2015, and most likely not April 2016, either, unless I pick up the pace. Which I’d like to do, but evenings this summer have been spent running the kids around. Namely the son. And namely Ultimate frisbee, a game which I’ve grown to really appreciate.

It’s your turn to blow me away: I still have a few spots open in August, so jump on soon. I can’t believe there are still open dates! This is usually the start of my busy season, and I’m hoping that after the best first half of the year ever (except May, for some reason — and yes, the dreaded June is still included in that count!), things don’t slow down. I’m on a roll over here, but I need you to keep it going.

I say all the time that I have the best clients. And I do. (Like attracts like, after all!)

Case in point: over the weekend, a newish client wanted me to alter my Word Document Only policy. It didn’t seem to be the sort of issue we’ve had in the past with people asking us to edit .pdfs or PowerPoints, so I was willing to consider it. I know a bunch of my clients use this format, so … I was curious to address this client’s concerns about my Word Only policy.

I sent an e-mail to a bunch of clients. Well, I sent a lot of e-mails; there was no group e-mailing involved.

And here’s the proof of how amazing my clients are. Every single one I sent the inquiry to got back to me, if not that night then the next morning.

I appreciate the speed, especially since I am not always that fast on the uptake (I wish I could be. Lately, I feel like I’m swimming through molasses). And what my clients had to say was enlightening. I learned a heck of a lot from them and once again, I am in awe of the folks who choose to hire me to edit their manuscripts.

So in the end, I turned down the request to edit in something other than Word. I probably lost a client, which means I’ve got room in August for anyone who is amazing, personally, and wants to work with me so their fiction can be every bit as awesome as they are.

And yes, all these superlatives are making me smile. Jett sent me a review over the weekend in which she complained that every single detail was perfect, incredible, amazing, beautiful, and more. I kinda get where that author was coming from, with all that praise. Doesn’t sound like it made for good fiction, but it sure makes for a happy editor over here. And happy editors work better and harder for their awesome clients.

You all know I’m a music lover, so “summer strains” could refer to some really cool music I’ve been listening to. And go ahead and boo me, but the new Five Finger Death Punch single cracks me up, especially once you know the backstory to it.

But no. Sadly, summer’s a tough time for me. The pulls of being outside, the need to work, the kids underfoot — I sadly live in a place that leaves us almost 100% dependent on cars to get around — and in need of supervision lest they become sucked into their computer screens and the games and manga that are filling their days. It’s tough. It’s very tough.

The good news is that my clients continue to be amazing, and my calendar continues to be full. June was my best ever June, although still the worst month of the year. New opportunities are still knocking and I’m doing my best to fit them all in, but how much can one girl cram into her life? Especially when, this summer, I’m spending three days a week in parks… when it’s not raining. Feeding the troops is a challenge even though we’re all good cooks, and then we have to get out the door. The past two weeks, one’s walking in when two are walking out. Crazy busy. It’s a strain, yes. It’s tough.

And I do love it. Well, not all this rain (can we send it to California please?) or the desire to be outside. But the job, the clients, the fiction. My kids crack me up, and they are smart enough to find themselves good friends. This is the good kind of summer strain: the strain on my pantry as everyone feeds themselves!

So blogging may be scarce. Paying work always takes precedence. The new admin over at The Rock of Pages still needs to get up and running and to pull Jett back into writing the reviews she owes me, you, and the authors she made promises to.

Lots going on… it’s all good. Except the rain.

And in all this, I do have openings in my schedule for August! Leaving them open will mean finishing up some of these in-progress projects but the simple truth is I need the editing every bit as much as I love to do it. It’s hard to get lazy and procrastinate when people are depending on you. But wait until you see what I’m cooking up now! You’re going to like it, especially those of you re-thinking your publication plans in light of the changes Amazon is making.

Stay tuned and keep sending your manuscripts and your friends my way. It all works out, and character is what we gain from the summer strains.

So last week, I was full of the news that I was named one of the best freelance SFF editors out there. I’m still very flattered by that.

But this week, I’ve got more cool news for you. I’m leaving Chez West of Mars and making another personal appearance! The wonderful folk at Three Rivers Romance have invited me to come speak and present my workshop on what makes a great review.

Which means that yes, if I can fit it into my crazy busy life, I’m totally available for speaking engagements, workshop presentations, even to be editor-in-residence at your weekend retreat or conference. And you know what? I love to get out and interact with authors. So much so that a friend and I are looking into running our own retreats.

I have a couple other irons in the fire, as well. Things you may not expect from me unless we’ve worked together for any length of time… Things you’ll like.

Come join me. If you can’t make it to TRR this weekend, why not invite me to your next meeting or conference? I’d love to do it and as any of my clients can tell you, I have plenty to say. Wait. Let me put that in a better light ’cause I’m not really the blabbermouth I just made myself out to be. I have plenty of experience I’d be glad to share.

And here you thought I liked to sit (or stand) behind a monitor all day. As much as I do, I like to get out and see people, too.

We made it, the kids and I. Another school year wrapped up, more report cards filled with grades I surely never achieved (unless I remember wrong, which is a possibility), and … time to sleep in, even for an hour.

Just an hour.

It’s the first day of summer vacation. Instead of getting up at 5:30 like I do during the year to provide backup alarm systems, I was up at …

Ready?

Wait for it.

You know it’s good.

Five.

Five freaking a.m.

I may as well put the time to good use, so if you’ve got a manuscript that needs to be edited, drop me a note. I’ve got extra time on the summer calendar, but it’s not going to last. I laugh that my clients like to send me their babies to work on while they’re off having a great vacation, no worries about anything, and they come home, recharged and renewed, ready to go. It’s a smart strategy and I swear, the finished products or the revised drafts that cross my desk again for more thoughts and help are all better for it.

I like that strategy, writer friends.

Of course, that means that summer’s my busiest season of the year. Even though I’ve got two kids underfoot, it winds up being very productive for me. (Guess I’m motivated by the idea of, “Guys, let me hit my page count and we’ll go to the pool for a few hours.”)

Take advantage, especially once I succeed at this sleeping in stuff. Less tired means less cranky means more productive, despite promises of going to the pool. Means better editing for you and paying off my landscaper for me.

The best-laid intentions of mice and men… radio silence has fallen over here, and not just on the blog. I’ve got a list of e-mails to answer that’s a mile long.

So what’s going on? What the radio silence?

Life’s been a whirlwind. The conference. An edit that was really tough, tougher than expected. Out of town for a family event. A kid sick ALL. WEEK. LONG. And a weekend that should have been the first R&R in eons that … wasn’t. Nope. It was spent making sure Sick Kid got the right diet so he’s no longer Sick Kid. Really, it’s not that hard to make rice, buy bananas, grab the packet of cheese sauce and insist the noodles be eaten plain until this passes. And it finally did, thankfully. Nine days of school left, and I’m sure Sick Kid will spend a chunk of them making up what he’s missed. Talk about derailing your grades at the last minute. Yikes.

I’ve got a ton of stuff to blog about. I’m making notes. I just need the time and the energy to do it all…

As always, it’s all going to be worth it. If you want to challenge my time management, go on ahead and book dates. I got ’em open and once school’s out in nine days, I expect things to shift for the better. These five-thirty wakeups are killing me.

Nine more days.

I’ll be breaking radio silence more fully soon.

As I was prepping for my workshop — on all things reviews — something dawned on me: book publicity has changed. I have lists here on the site of the guest blog posts I’ve written over the years and of the interviews I’ve given. They go back years and while some of these sites are no longer active, or even in existence, it’s still proof I once took time to promote myself as a writer.

Since I returned to editing and made it my full-time focus, I have faced the double-edged sword of time management. Thankfully busy with editing, the self-promotion has fallen by the wayside. And in the time since I made that shift, promotion has changed.

Guest blog posts and interviews aren’t happening nearly as often as they used to. Now, it’s the book blast. The cover reveal.

Promo has become impersonal once again.

And it probably dovetails with the dropoff in interest in the Featured New Book Spotlight and Lines of Distinction. I’ve actually had authors send me their canned blast information to post for these features.

Umm… yeah, thanks, but … no. I’m asking for the personal touch. As a reader, I like to get to know authors. As a reader and blogger, I don’t like to see the exact same thing posted all over the Internet. The folks who are coordinated enough to get their message out on the same day (and I don’t mean Thunderclap, which I think is one of man’s stupidest inventions) both amaze me with their organization and … well, it’s irritating to see the exact same thing again and again. Same post. Same headline. Same content.

Know what happens to an editor when her eyes glaze over? It ain’t pretty, folks. There might be stuttering and drool involved. There’s definitely the shutting of tabs and windows and marking items in my feedreader as read even though they aren’t. Well, they sort of are. I mean, there’s a first for everything…

It wasn’t that long ago we were talking about this new transparent age. Where authors could connect with readers, and readers could connect with authors.

Oh, I know. The stories of stalking and trolling have put the chilling effect on us all.

But why are we standing for it? Why are we not fighting back? It’s not that hard. Look at Lines of Distinction. As an author, you KNOW what your favorite lines in your book are. Highlight ’em here. The only personal information you’re giving away is a marked preference for your own words. I’m not asking you to go out on a limb. Not with Lines of Distinction. It’s about your book and only your book. It’s meant to be easy promo that doesn’t make people’s eyes glaze over (we won’t go near the drool).

I miss the personal touch. I miss when people used social media to be social.

Guess I’m old school, but I’m all for bringing it back. You with me? Use those links. Lines of Distinction. The Featured New Book Spotlight. Feature yourself.

And like I said to Stevie, I got your back.

I do it every other year, and every other year, it’s completely different.

I’m talking about the Pennwriters Annual Conference. Every other year, it’s held in my backyard of Pittsburgh. I get to sleep at home, escape early from the chaos, and have some good decompression time. And I drive a lot. Half hour each way, but so totally worth it. Plus, driving down on Saturday, Octane was rocking hard and the music was blasting and it was a super way to start the day.

Anyone who’s been a repeat offender at Pennwriters (or any other convention, I’m sure) will agree with this: even when the faces are mostly the same, the conference experience never is. There’s always something new to explore, someone new who makes a difference.

Two years ago, I spent most of the conference sitting in a hallway, wrangling authors who were going to pitch agents and acquiring editors. I had a ball, don’t get me wrong, and not just because a number of my conference buddies amused me by telling me that they hadn’t realized I was even in attendance. And, as always, I learned a lot.

This year, it was totally different. I couldn’t deliver the SIX baskets I’d collected for the Chinese Auction until Friday morning, so as soon as I tossed kids out the door and onto the school bus, it was into the car to get the baskets set up.

I spent the morning doing that, helping my friend and subcontractor Mary get all the baskets together. We had another Susan helping us and it was friendly and companionable and comfortable. What a super way to ease into the event.

A month out, I’d planned to skip the two lunches the conference offered: one for only those who’ve achieved Published status and the other was for the unwashed masses. I hate class structure like that, and I think that in this age of transparency and a changed publishing model, the need for this structure is over. So I’d expected to have a quiet lunch by myself in the hotel restaurant.

But I mentioned that I was skipping the organized lunches and talks to a friend I meet with monthly. And suddenly, I had a lunch date.

Fast forward to the conference. I’m sitting in a chair, waiting for my friend, and … someone walks up. She’s going to have lunch by herself. Or… she was. She joins me.

A minute later, there’s still no sign of my friend. Good thing because Mary shows up with a buddy, one of the best storytellers I’ve ever met.

And lunch for one became five. It was not a quiet lunch. Not even close.

That’s how the weekend went. Good people around me at all times. Some were new faces. Some were old. Some were connections I’d made over ten years ago in an entirely different venue. But I never felt alone, never felt lonely or lost or ignored, even when I was sitting by myself.

I gave my first workshop. It needs some tweaking and probably broken into two different sessions altogether. But I’m also booked for next month to give it again. I was asked to do an online workshop and while I think that may not come to be — my credentials seemed to ultimately be disappointing, since I’m not an acquiring editor — at least I was asked.

Someone asked me where I see myself in five years. I’ve been thinking about that. I see myself doing more of this. More talks. More networking. More editing. More success.

That was the texture of this year’s conference. Last time, it was about helping others calm their nerves, about finding them time for expanded opportunities. This time, it felt like I’ve been waiting for it to feel.

My favorite line of the weekend? “I’ve been seeing this West of Mars everywhere, it feels like.”

YES. Hey, did I tell you I have editing dates open this summer?

Last week, one of my friends and clients — we’ll call her Stevie — got a rejection from a literary agent. She asked me for my interpretation (“Hey, she strongly encourages you to query others so yes, I’d say she’s encouraging.” I am very helpful at times, aren’t I?) and then said she wasn’t happy with part of her latest WIP.

So no surprise that Stevie crops up on Facebook saying she feels like a fraud. And no real surprise when a bunch of other writer friends — published in various ways, as always — chimed in that they feel the same way.

I threw sparkles and unicorns at ’em ’cause I recognized what was happening: our buddy IWI, or Inherent Writerly Insecurity.

It’s part and parcel of the curse of being a writer. The self-doubt. The feeling like you can’t replicate past success, even if the success is something only in your perception. Hell, I feel it. I worry I’ll never be able to create a character as wonderful and alive as Trevor Fucking Wolff. And with a name like that, are you surprised?

The question really becomes how we deal with it. If we can learn to embrace the Inherent Writerly Insecurity enough to make it work for us. No one as amazing as Trevor? Throw that gauntlet DOWN, folks. I’m THERE. (I’d like to think I did it with T, the bass player for Ice Cubes in Hell and yes, it took me THIS long to realize I have two amazing characters who are bass players and whose names begin with the same letter. We’ll get to author signatures another time, though. And if you haven’t met T, pick up Broken. For sale at all your favorite retailers for a whopping 99 cents.)

This is a hard lesson to learn, to make IWI work for us. To view it as a challenge, and the fact that not everyone can do what I do is part of what makes the world such a wonderful place. Takes all kinds, right?

So.

Since you ain’t me, here’s what I tell my clients, all those Steves and Stevies, who drop into my inbox to lean on my really strong shoulders:

It’s okay to feel this way. Hell, you wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t.

But yes, it’s you who created everything you see on those pages at B&N, Amazon, and GoodReads. You really did accomplish that, and it is proof you are not a fraud. Frauds always get found out. Always. Trust me. I’ve pulled back more than one curtain on people who try to call themselves Oz. I know whereof I speak, and I know damn well, having seen the work you send my way, that you’re NOT a fraud.

What you’re listening to right now is the nagging voice of doubt. We all have it, even the people who aren’t authors. For us, though, who take every phone ring that’s not an agent offering representation as a rejection, who take every glance at our sales reports as a rejection even though we just checked thirty seconds ago, well… we let those demons in. We let our breath catch every time the phone rings. We keep checking the sales reports.

We have to be more diligent than the rest of the world about our fears and doubts. We can’t let them cripple us.

That doesn’t mean that every now and then, we don’t need to spend a day (or, better yet, an hour … okay, ten seconds) beating ourselves up because what’s in our head doesn’t transfer to the page with the same eloquence it danced across our brains. I think that taking a step back and listening to the doubt can be a good thing. It helps push us forward — see above about Trevor and T and the way I intend to make other characters as alive and vivid as those two.

Use it. Inherent Writerly Insecurity should be nothing more than another tool in our arsenal, another way in which we can connect to characters of all shapes, sizes, temperaments, and talents. Let it power your character’s flaws, their own sagging self-confidence.

Don’t let it get you down. Don’t let it cripple you.

You are made of stronger stuff than this. I promise.

And I got your back. More than anything, I got your back.

If you follow West of Mars on Facebook, you’ve seen mention of my new desk, which lets me go from standing to sitting with the push of a lever.

I love being able to stand and work. And dance and work (because you know me and the Spotify’s always jamming away when I’m working and it really is unfortunate that it’s open window season right now because my neighbors who walk their dogs might be serenaded by a certain standing-and-dancing-while-working certified tone-deaf editor).

I didn’t think I’d like it this much. Standing.

But know what I’ve learned? Sitting effs up my posture something fierce. My shoulders sit back again, my head is high, my spine is lengthened, my gut pulled in, abs activated. I want to be in here, standing at my desk. Weekends, evenings… I want to be here. I really do.

Know what else I’ve learned? I’m actually less physically tired at the end of the day. Not just the end of the work day. The end of the day. And somehow, that’s translated into sleeping better. And then, come 5:30? It’s not been quite as hard to get up, although I still yearn for the days when 5:30 was bedtime.

Easier awakenings, in turn, make it easier to get to the gym. The gym, of course, is vital to my wonky joints and while I’m not quite back into my old routine, I can say that my workouts are harder and I’m getting more out of them. I’m starting to rebuild the strength I have lost over the past year or two. It’s a long road back and maybe after two or three weeks, it’s premature to say, but dude. It’s all about attitude, right? And if I feel strong…

And my focus? Through the roof! I’m more productive than ever, which is amazing. (Motivation, however, continues to lag, but that’s another story and the next obstacle to get tackled.)

All for a desk that lets me stand or sit. (and dance. Don’t forget the dancing.)

Dance your days away. Take care of your own health. Try something new; you may be as pleasantly surprised by the results as I have been.

There’s real unrest in our world these days. We all turn on the news and see it: earthquakes, terrorists, riots, injustice.

We feel protected from it. It’s happening over there, on other people’s Facebook feeds, on Twitter, on the news. It’s not happening here.

Except, you know what? The suspicion these situations breeds manages to worm its way into our consciousness anyway. It may be happening there, but what if it’s going to happen here? When does the hammer fall, when it is my turn to face evil or hardship? When do the zombies bang on my door and try to eat me?

When I went to bed last night, I wouldn’t have believed that people have grown so suspicious so fast. Rude, yes, like the jerk who turns exercise bikes into his own personal charging station at the Hoity Toity Health Club.

But so damn suspicious of each other?

It’s sad.

And it’s powered by words. By Tweets, by status updates, by conversation we have with each other.

Words have power. Anyone who’s ever listened to a caring adult whisper, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Go on, say it. You’ll feel better” knows the mantra simply isn’t true. Words hurt.

Like Seether says, Words as Weapons.

Into this new environment comes one other element you may not have expected. I sure didn’t: the loss of the ability to joke.

Case in point: One of the small businesses who works for West of Mars made a post on Facebook that he was trying to squeeze more work into the end of the month. I made a comment about him learning to stretch time. Turn on your TV. Super hero shows are full of characters stretching time. We are big Flash fans around here, and time is very much an element in that show. Go to the movies. Hello, Matrix? And that’s an old one.

An innocent comment. A compliment, really. If anyone could figure out how to make time stretch out so he could pack more into a day, it’s him.

I admire this guy. I like him. I respect him. And most of all, I trust him and the work he does. That’s why I employ him.

But… apparently, not everyone holds him in such high esteem. Accusations began to fly about him padding his billable hours.

Umm… what? Seriously?

First off, if you don’t trust the guy, why do you interact with him? Or is it that this new culture we’re in doesn’t allow for that sort of rational thought? Are we all are being brainwashed into not trusting the cops, teenage girls who may beat you up after the movie you’ve shushed their chatter during, people who’ve pulled their hoods up over their heads, your own friends… it’s sad. What happened to community? To the simple idea of trust?

Second, why so negative? You’ve just jumped to a conclusion that has zero basis in fact, and, in fact, has been disproven time and again concerning this particular man. It worries me that you are willing to read something so unethical into one of the most upright people I know.

The problem, folks, lies with you, who misinterpreted the compliment.

Yeah, okay, I was wrong to have underestimated the culture of fear and suspicion we’re now living in. I was wrong to have not realized it’s sitting in my backyard, even after someone I haven’t spoken to since 1991 used a Facebook friendship to wound a bunch of people I love.

When I paid the compliment, it never entered my mind that anyone would consider the worst about this man. It … I still can’t get my brain around it. I just can’t. James, pad his hours? JAMES????

What sort of crack are these people smoking? I mean, really.

Sticks and stones may break bones. No argument there. But the rest of that mantra is simply wrong. Words can and do harm us. Sometimes, words can wound deeper and harder than a stick, a stone, a bullet, a sword ever could. Because we survive those wounds, seemingly intact, and yet we carry the pain with us.

Those so-called friends of my service provider have done more damage than they expected. They didn’t just hurt one man and possibly his business. They’ve hurt me, too, beyond belief. And while they don’t give a damn about me — like I’d even want them to, watching how they treat our mutual friend — it’s too bad that they don’t give enough of a damn about this guy to see a compliment as a compliment, and to trust his good word and the actions that back him up as being above the deplorable behavior they’re so quick to accuse him of engaging in.

James, I’m sorry. As I’ve said, I meant to pay you the highest of compliments. I can only control the words I write, the words I say. I can’t control how others interpret them.

As a wordsmith, I know this. I work with clients daily to make sure their intent is crystal clear. I had thought my intent concerning you was every bit as clear. In my eyes, you’re a superman. And as we all know from super hero TV shows and movies, supermen accomplish the impossible.

Supermen accomplish the impossible.

Except, I guess, this time.

I was HOT there for awhile. A long while, actually. Clients were throwing manuscripts at me right and left, I was about a week behind for two months, and I had the best February and March ever. Whew, it was awesome.

But… for some reason — and on a timeline that seems to fluctuate — editing goes in cycles. Sadly, this last cycle is ending and things are looking … slim around here. Quiet. It’s a cooling off period, all right.

On the one hand, this is good. It can mean time to work on my own fiction. Time to develop promotional opportunities for some of my authors, who could use the boost. (What else is on my To Do list? All sorts of stuff, really, but those two examples pretty well encompass things.)

On the other hand, it also means less income. Thankfully, the new windows are in and paid for, so it’s time to save up for the annual real estate/school taxes that’ll be due in August, and oh, yeah. Food.

For anyone who’s been holding off on engaging me, now’s the time. I’ve got openings really soon, and they go all the way through the summer. It’s hard to believe it’s April and my summer’s not starting to fill up, but… it’s April and my summer’s not starting to fill up.

Take advantage. Keep an editor employed. And in the meantime, I’ll be exploring new things, expanding others, and generally making this place better than ever.

Most of you know I’m a Scout leader and that I go with the Troop on camping trips. What you don’t know is that last fall, we organized into a BSA Venturing Crew and I’m the fearless leader. This past weekend was our biggest trip yet, for all that only one third of my Crew came along.

This isn’t to talk about my spectacular dudes, although I could do that for days, but to offer what is ultimately a lame excuse for not posting some Lines of Distinction that are waiting to be posted, or to update what’s arrived here for the Pennwriters Conference baskets, something I also need to do.

I’m exhausted. And, of course, it being Monday, I have a new edit to start. And a kid to pick up from honor society induction practice today.

Have I mentioned I need a nap?

So stay tuned, stay put. All that’s coming, in my usual slow but steady manner. I’m here at my new Varidesk, standing and sitting and plugging along.

Let me tell you, if you’ve got a kid of either gender who is between the ages of 14 and 21, you may want to look into Venturing. In my five years as a registered Scouter, this was truly the best trip I’ve been on.

I sat down last night to write a post. It’d be my usual Says the Editor type of post, pithy and fun and the sort of thing that one of you would submit to the Passive Guy so I could get the free promo and pack my schedule and work my tail off and redo my family room, now that the windows are taken care of.

But something funny happened.

It happened last week, actually. I sat down, put the laptop on my lap (go figure. They tend to work better from that position, or else I have weird arms), and … opened a Word file I hadn’t touched for almost one entire calendar year. I believe the date on the file was April 14, 2014, actually.

Yes, your editor friend found her way back to her fiction.

Oh, I’ve done this off and on over the past couple of years. I’ll start to work on something, start to write — I have a whole other project I’ve played with, off and on, for awhile now — and then get distracted or overwhelmed or just plain worn out. Staring at a screen all day doesn’t exactly make me want to stare at a screen all evening. Playing with other people’s words doesn’t exactly inspire me to turn off that editor part of my brain and do the sort of crappy first draft that’s necessary for my own writing process. Running the kids from activity to activity doesn’t exactly… You get the idea. It’s a full life I lead. It’s a good life and I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.

But I’d be happier if I was writing, creating, letting characters run amok in my brain instead of it being full of the daily struggles of worrying about taking care of a house and two kids and myself and a business and all the other stresses of life. In that vein, I had it easier in the old incarnation of my life. And yes, the further away I get from the old incarnation, as I fix the problems I was left to discover, the more relieved I am that life took such a drastic turn.

I do miss writing. I miss my characters. And heck yeah, I miss those royalty statements. Even though I love editing with a passion I thought I’d never feel, it is an engagement with a book in a different way than when I’m engaging as the writer. The book I’m editing right now blows me away with its vision and creativity — as do they all, but this one in particular makes me shake my head in amazement at the quality of the ideas and the ability of the author to go to these places. There are many times a day when I sit back and envy and admire my authors and their storytelling abilities.

At some point, I’ll find that elusive balance between editing all day — the challenge of seeking out weaknesses and trying to build a better infrastructure, better word choice, better sentence structure, deeper characterization — and my own writing — that head rush of watching characters do what I wasn’t expecting, the lip-pursing moments when I fight for the right word or idea.

But for now, like so many of my clients, I struggle. And I remind them that I feel their pain even as I put them first. Not just because it pays my bills. But because it fulfills me in a way writing can’t.

Just as writing fulfills me in a way editing can’t.

I mentioned already that I’m headed to the Pennwriters Conference this year. I wish I could attend more conferences, and I’d love to host all my writer friends and their readers for a fun-filled weekend, too.

But both of those ambitions are down the road, for when my kids are older and need me around less.

Right now, I have a promo opp that’s all about my author friends — and the conference attendees. It’s easy and it’ll cost only what you are willing to invest.

I am seeking books — print copies or else fancy-styled flashdrives* with your e-book(s) on them — for auction baskets. I’ll make a lovely little note about what books (and their authors) for the outside, and one (or more, depending on how many baskets I’m able to make) lucky winner will take home YOUR book.

Got a book you want to include? Drop me a note. Got an e-book? Drop me a note.

The idea here, folks, is to get your name out to a wider reading audience. I know… what’s the value of reaching writers and not readers? Well, because the smart writers among us are voracious readers. The smart writers among us are super networkers, not afraid to tell our friends to read such-and-such because it’s a great book, or a great example of this literary technique or this or that is handled really well and it’s a super example.

In other words: a good book in the right hands can create the sort of buzz we all want. People talking in positive ways about our books.

All it’ll cost you is the price of postage and your book. That’s not too much to ask for a chance to find a wider audience, is it?

I didn’t think so.

*Flashdrives in fun, custom shapes are a super promotional item.