Enjoying a warm cup of coffee on this brisk morning I am musing about what a writer is expected to be. Before I started writing I thought that a writer was like JR Ward or Laurel Hamilton. Someone who is kick ass on the cover and whose words magically appear on paper for them to print. I wanted to do that. Be all cool looking and writer stories people would enjoy.
When I sat down to write my first book I was stumped. It took two years to finish six chapters. In my defense I had crappy editors and the fear factor of being ridiculed was a huge part of it. I would submit my work to people I trusted and was shot down with negative comments. This kept me from writing for a bit but not for long.
The road to greatness didn’t let this turn me away from finishing my work. It was a nagging at the back of my brain. My characters were screaming scenes and lines at me and I was crazy keeping them all in my head. Sitting here in the solarium Looking at how I want to be viewed as a writer. but it doesn’t change the fact that once I start releasing my photo you as the reader will see me as that and not the real was I am when I am writing. Strangely, I am OK with this. I don’t think any author wants you to imagine them sitting in front of their computer in boxers and a cup of coffee.
I would like people to see me as a phantom of words. Writing the novels of the night by candlelight in my masquerade mask. My solarium curiously set up like Box 5 overlooking the scenes of my characters acting out in the accordance to my wishes. This is how I would ask you Think of Me. It is all I ask of you.