Agonies of a Young Author

I've become resigned. It's no longer frustrating, no longer amusing, just another fact of life.

I have the worst luck in travel.*

Don't believe me? Here's evidence. And here. And I suspect that there are more in the archives, but I am lacking the motivation to troll through them all. (Feel free yourself, though.)

Anyways, I am stuck in another airport. More cancellations, more delays, a couple of missed connections... yeah, it's all here.

BUT-- I am going to Portland. To the book signing. The weather is predicted to be rainy and cold, and I have scarf and boots in preparation. I have artsy jewelry. I have brightly colored clothing. I have ... dammit, I don't have my book, I packed in the checked bag! Grrrrrrrr. Well, I will have a torrid Gothic romantic mystery by Louisa May Alcott when I get to Portland. (*grumble, grumble*) I will have a spiffy hotel (I'm obsessed with Embassy Suites. Yay Embassy Suites!) And tomorrow, I will have the newest Kate Daniels. Cosigned by the authors.

So, not thinking about the stupidity of air travel, thinking about the amazing two-day literary excursion in store.

Oh, they're calling me. Fascinating. Well, off to board the little silver sausage tube they call a plane. See you on the other coast!

*Correction: Air travel. I have the worst luck in air travel. Luckily, my car loves me.

Write Now:
What I'm listening to: "Hey, Soul Sister" by Train on the airport speakers.
What I want most: Some food. Real food, not airport stuff. To be in Portland. To escape the airport.

It's the night before the conference!! Well, actually, it's the night before my roadtrip to the conference. I'm driving five hours up to Lancaster, PA to attend the Pennwriter's Writer's Conference. But before you feel sorry for my numbed posterior, here's something you should know...

Secret: I love roadtrips.

I actually like driving five, six hours to go someplace. It doesn't feel as long to me as you might imagine. With my location on the East Coast, I can easily dash up to Richmond, D.C., Baltimore, or Philly. I can  also scoot down to Durham (next week's conference!) or across state to Charlotte or anywhere I want to go. I really can go pretty much anywhere, and I try to follow through.

Since last summer I've put almost three thousand miles on my adorable Rosie Gambler, Roadster. I am determined to drive and drive and drive until I drive my car into the ground (because want else is it for? Girl's gotta go places.)

So! Agenda:
this weekend--Lancaster, PA
next weekend-- Durham, NC
following day-- Portland, OR (this will require a plane-- I'm not THAT addicted)
same week- heartland of Texas
following week-- home to California for month of June
month of July-- Prague creative writing summer school!!! And Russia!!!
month of August-- possibly travel for a week, then back to VA

Oh yeah. I gotta good summer. Good good summer.

Write now:
What I'm listening to: Panera diner music
What I want most: to get going!!

Oh, I am home, I am home, I am home!!

Right now:
What I'm listening to: The Fray
What I want most: SLEEP!

Today's my birthday!!

Happy 21st to me.

Can't believe that I already 21. It sounds so old, and I still feel so incredibly young at some times. And then I think, "I'm only 21?" because I feel so incredibly old at some times. Therefore, all age is relative, and it's stupid to assign a number to life experience.

But one benefit of being 21 I am not enjoying at the moment- I am currently somewhere over the Atlantic, and probably fast asleep instead of drinking myself into oblivion. (I scheduled this in advance) So very sad.

Would it be weird to ask for a mimosa with my airline breakfast of fake egg and hard croissant?

Anyways, I am taking today off, because of my birthday and because of the travel. I may be around tomorrow, I may not. We'll see how things go.

So tip back a double or two in my name, and be sure to toast to my health.

Right now:
Where I am located: 30,000+ miles up, above the birds, but below the interesting stuff, like outer space
What I want most: Maybe a 7-7. Or a Lemon Drop - I've always wanted to try one of those. Or maybe something fruity like a Mai Tai or a Pina Colada. Ah, who knows. I probably will have to try them all over the next few weeks (and months).

Sometimes life ignores the page and jumps right into your face. And you get caught off-guard because you have been stuck in your head thinking that the world you create is better than the world you live in.

It's not.

They say that truth is stranger than fiction but life can be more wonderful.

I won't say anything more than that--it would take away the specialness. But as a writer the event reminded me that what I create is meant to mimic the variety of life, not replace it with my words.

And I think I really needed that.

Right now:
Where I am located: a restaurant in Burlad, the only wi-fi hotspot in the entire county
What I'm listening to: some 80s power ballad from the radio
What I want most: to keep this feeling with me for a while

A few weeks ago I interviewed for the writing consultant position at campus Writing Resource Center (which I got! Still excited.) One of the questions I've mulled over a few times since then:

What is your greatest writing strength?

At the time, I was unprepared to answer that particular question, and rather than let the silence stretch longer than the taffy it was already resembling, I spoke about how I had a "natural" voice. A debatable point, but moving on.

Now I wish that I had spoken of how my greatest strength in that I put writing first. Writing is essentially the number one priority in my life (I'm not counting God and family here) and it's foremost in my thoughts. It's the quest that I've chosend, the one that involves life and death and all things in between. It's a one way train ride, with no stops along the way.

So I should have spoken of my loyalty, of my dedication. I should have explained my focus, and my drive. I should have explained that this is a passion, a hobby, a career, and a life calling, all tied up into one black hole of a package. It sucks you in, and you don't know what kind of person you might come out on the other side.

But you can bet it's gonna be one hell of an experience.

Right Now:
Where I am located: hotel room in Tutova, Romania
What I want most: Cappicino. I've become addicted since I got here.

There are just some people out there that I want to slap for being stupid, narrow-minded, shallow idiots. Therefore, somewhere in the world, someone is just itching to slap me. So can one actively pursue mind-broadening experiences? And how?

We always talk of travel as a life changing opportunity. Sometimes we add in community serevice, or reading, or those big ones like marriage and kids and baptism and moving. But can you find something daily to so to make your mind broader by topics, not events?

I speak mainly of course of the needs of a writer, that class of people that need to draw on a cast collections of various and random inspirations. And I need an accepting mind to acquire all that I can/ Not to say that a writer can't make judgements, but all reconnaissnace should be objective, even if the final report is partial.

So how does one achieve this? And is there any possibility for an answer?

Sometimes I regret that I can't write a better book because I don't have the wisedom and experience of age. So I try to actively pursue those qualities ahead of my time. But I don't really know what steps I should take, or that I succeed.

So I guess I'll just keep plogging, and blogging, my way to a final sort of approximation.

Over and out.

Right now:
Where I am located: in an apartment in Burlad, Romania
What I am listening to: "Change" by Puya

It's the 200th post!!!!



Thank you to all the readers of Agonies, you totally make this blog what it is! Thanks for being a great community, and I hope to have your help in taking us to 300 and beyond.



It's such a great feeling to know that Agonies has made it this far. When I started this blog over a year ago, I had no plan in mind and no clue what kind of lasting impact I would create for myself. I can't imagine what the face of Agonies is going to look like in a year, and the idea that we might be around for five or ten years is simply... astounding. I can't picture what that scenario would look like, yet I know it's totally possible with readers like you. So thank you. I'm so deeply humbled.

With much love,
Shelly

Right Now:
Where I am located: an apartment in Burlad, Romania
What I'm listening to: P!nk "I Don't Believe You"

I was reading my FundsforWriters email the other day while waiting in the airport, and found an article on how house-sitting can be beneficial to writers. Since you can go anywhere with writing, you can easily turn a house-sitting gig into a mini personal writing retreat.

I've thought about retreats a lot lately, as I posted earlier, and the idea of house-siiting sounds just perfect. There would be the possibility of extended stays, and sometimes could be combined with pet sitting, so companionship wouldn't be a problem. Watering plants wouldn't be any hardship; in fact it would be a little like playing house Victorian style, with all the air of refined gentility and none of the nasty feminist issues or the reminders of the modern world like a real job.

The article writer said the they were house-siiting year round, didn't even have a place of their own, simply moved from house to house year round. Some aspests of this lifestyle I would find utterly terrifying and/or incredibly stressful, but it would be neat to try it out for a year or two. Perhaps after grad school, to take a unofficial sabatical and turn my dissertation into a publishable book (whether my thesis in question happens to be academic or creative in nature, the sentiment still applies.)

In any case, it''s an opportunity to keep in mind. I wouldn't be adverse to following through when the right time comes.

Right now:
Where I'm located: 30,000 feet up (posted later)
What I want most: Airplane pretzels, the kind with lots of salt.

and all through the hotel, we were all passed out snoring, not excepting the mouse...


Did I say that I would have time to relax and reflect and write?


ahahahhahahahahahahaha.


I'm taking my breaks when I can, so happy holidays y'all! I'll see you later.


Right now:
Where I am located: My bed.
What I want most: SLEEP!

In my Life Writing class one day, a girl shared a powerful piece that impressed and moved us all. When questioned, she said that to get the emotion out on the page, she literally had to get away. She drove until she could drive no more, found the first (decent I presume) hotel, and checked in for the weekend. Just to write.

That example resonates so powerfully with me at times. Sometimes the idea of just driving and driving until the road chases me has the strongest appeal. I try to leave campus occasionally, try to get out of my dorm and my school life and my head full of academia, but going to the local Barnes and Nobles or Starbucks doesn't always have the same effect as a total escape. Today I'm almost regretting that I didn't have more time in Atlanta so that I could have written in the hotel room, but between exhaustion and travel stress I slept the whole time. And it was wonderful, filled with white fluffy down dreams.

My trip to Romania is one where I could arrange to weekend out to Bucharest or to a nieghboring country, but I am tempted to ignore that siren call. THis is a service trip, not a vacation, and while treating myself with nex cities wouldn't be a crime, the whole tenure of this trip is more reflective, more sedate. So spending the entiere weekend holed up in some corner fo the hotel writing would not be a bad thing either. Treating my trip to Romnain as a mini writing retreat would not be a bad thing.

Plus, it's just buggerly cold. Do I really want to be sight-seeing in 20 degree weather?

Right now:
Where I am located: Charles de Gaulle airport
What I want most: coffee and a croissant.

What I write and what I wnat to write are two very different things.

I came up with the idea for a book series a few days ago, and have been playing with it ever since. On the plane, I actually did something, and plotted out all four. I think that it would be worth pursueing... exxcept I know exactly what kind of book covers they would end up with-- all pink and yellow, with cutesy cursive font and some glitter starbursts by the title.

Nothing against the chick lit genre. I've read it, and enjoyed it. I don't even mind writing it, but I don't want to be known for it. In a competitive business like publishing, branding is everything. having one writer write several different genres under the same name is bad for business because it confuses the reader. When you pick up a Janet Evanovich, you know exactly what kind of book you are getting. Same with Tom Clancy, or Jane Austen, or Sylvia Plath. These names have been branded, recognizable for the type of book they offer. I've already picked out the associations I want for the name "Shelly Holder" and the books I plotted out aren't it.

I've said beofre that I would only publish under my own name, but now I wonder if that wasn't overly hasty. I want to write these books I mentioned. I would enjoy writing these books, and I would enjoy having readers, and I would enjoy haivng readers buy these books, and be excited about these books. And realistically, any sort of money that I could earn from writing would be great. To butcher Sherman Alexie's original line*: "I'm a literary author that writes mainstream to pay the rent."

So we'll see what happens. There's every possibilty that when I get a literary manuscript done, the publisher won't let me publish under "Shelly Holder" in the first place, so I guess I can only write, and figure all the rest out later.

So I should get back to plotting.

* Originally Sherman Alexie said "I'm a poet that writes fiction to pay the rent."

Right now:
Where I am located: Charles de Gaulle airport
What I'm listening to: Snow White playing in the duty free shop
What I want most: Food? Sleep? to get to Romania... finally??

Quite a while back ago, and the very primordial soup stage of this blog, I wrote on how writing is the ultimate job because it is limitless in topic. Now I'm writing on how writing is limitless because it can travel anywhere.

I don't have to be tied to a physical location to be a writer. I don't have to be at a specific place to fulfill the expectations that come with being a "writer." I am still a writer if I am at home, I am still a writer if I am in a coffee shop, and I am still a writer if I am halfway across the world in a small Romanian town. And I can write at any of those, or more, places. I can still blog, I can still create, I can still edit, and I can still dream up a plot. I am not tied down; I am not limited.

As a writer, I am never limited. As a writer, the only boundaries that I have are the ones that I have created for myself. I am the only person responsible for my writing, and in that way I know that I am unlimited.

I can only be a writer. There is no other career so perfectly created to suit my temperament. As I said in my older post: Writing IS the ultimate job, because it is all others, and none at all.

It's one of those genres that I never really understood and never really got into. I haven't read much, and I certainly only tangetially write it, mostly because I happen to be somewhere else when I write a diary-esqe entry.

Yet, I'm starting to have affection for the topic. It's a growing interest for me, and I think that if an opportunity to be a travel writer comes my way, I would certainly try it. It'd be ideal, really, with a life goal of going to every single country in the world. It'd certainly be interesting if I ever manage to rent a yacht so I can circumnavigate the globe. And it certainly adds depth to whatever kind of writing I'm doing-- from academic to non-fiction to fiction and poetry-- from sheer life experience and a background in descriptive language.

Many of the authors that I study in class, including a lot of the Victorians like Trollope, wrote books on their travels. Ann Radcliffe published a travelogue on her trip through Holland and Germany, and Dickens wrote about Italy and America.

Clearly then, don't I have a duty to continue in this worthy tradition?

(snicker)

Anyways, it's a thought that I've been batting around between two furry paws like string. Amusing, but light-hearted at the moment. I have a lot on my plate, and I should go ahead and check a few points off my to-do list before I add on anything else.

I used to be the type of person that could be incredibly productive on a plane. I could breeze through three or four books, especially on the longer international flights. Then books got difficult, so I could watch three or four movies and a couple of TV episodes.

Now? Now, I hardly pack anything for in-flight entertainment, because I know I will conk out like a bear going into hibernation before we even lift off. There is no productivity, there is no reading, there is no writing, there is only sleep.

Lots and lots of sleep.

I'm not sure why this always happens now- is it because I am usually coming out right after mid-terms or finals to go home for the holidays? Or because I am now traveling on my own, so I have to think (read: worry) about logistics like catching the shuttle and checking in and getting the right gate and all other travel sundries?

Anyways, on this trip I have brought several books and a blank journal. I delude myself that I am going to write on the plane- even drank two whole sups of coffee in hopes that it would stave off the cloud of oblivion that rests on my horizon. But the cloud is wide, and deep, and darker in color than I expected, and all the caffeine in the world might not be enough to break up the sleep seratonin raindrops.

And perhaps I will dream of my manuscript.

Right now:
Where I am located: probably somewhere mid-Atlantic (I scheduled this post-- aren't I clever?)
What I want most: sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep. lol

and not just because my plane was delayed, although that is a theme for the next blog post or two.

But situations like these are always the ones that yield unexpected results. Two guys standing behind probably formed a life-long friendship because of the three hour conversation that they started up. Even I, introverted as I sometimes can be, am tempted to talk to people because the frustration is high but the inhibitions are low. Like wanting to tell Melvin at the hotel desk "Thank you for being so kind all the time. I saw you three weeks ago when I was delayed overnight during Thanksgiving, and you were just as friendly back then." Or telling people where to go and how the hotel shuttles work, because I literally did this not three weeks ago. And striking up a conversation with a really nice woman while waiting for said hotel shuttles.

It was at this point when I walked away to board the big green and white bus that I realized that I had missed out on a valuable marketing opportunity. There we were, with nothing to talk about but friendly enough to be genuinely interested in one another, and I didn't have a business card with me.

I've thought about it a lot lately, especially since going to the conference. I am one writer in a million writers, who all have blogs and websites, so how am I going to stick out? By meeting me, and being first struck by my personality, and then following up with my writing. Ergo, I need business cards.

Something very simple, black on white, my name and my website. And all I would have to say would be, "It's been great chatting with you. If you are ever interested, I would love for you to visit my website. Have a safe flight."

Business cards. Because it's all about the marketing.

Right now:
Where I'm located: hotel room, Atlanta
What I want most: sleep. and clean clothes.

The horror! The shame! The travel-sty!

I WAS right- delays here in Richmond, delays in Paris likely.... so who knows where in the world Shelly Holder will end up tonight. Perhaps in Iceland like that last international trip I took (no joke, long story, that's another blog post.)

It's ridiculous to the point of amusing now. I have come to accept that any travel involving me, my person, my baggage, or any derivative in between is going to have something funky going on. Or multiple somethings. Or any combination thereof.

The Maternal Figure doesn't like me using the "c" word, but wouldn't it be funny if I wrote a story about a girl who was cursed with bad travel juju? =)

Well, one good thing came of my delay- I had time to read my email, and found a new writing opportunity in a campus email. Since I'm in absentia at the moment, I sent over a resume, and links to the blog and the website. Hopefully that does the trick until I can get back and fill out whatever sort of application there might be.

So until later, whenever and wherever that might be.

Right now:
Where I am located: gate terminal
What I want most: a decisive decision either way- I'm delayed, I'm not delayed. Which one is it?