Thirsty

Guest Post by Christina St. Clair. Please visit her here.

This is a love story of sorts, but not the traditional boy meets girl, they get hot for one another, they eventually tumble into the bed and live happily ever after.  Such a beautiful fairytale, we all know, does not exist in real life, especially in relationships which, in order to deepen, take work, persistence, insight, and time.

So it is with the writing life, at least so it has been with mine.  Writing seemed a way I might quench a longing I couldn't even name.  When I was at my father's funeral in England, I began telling stories to my small nephews.  It seemed to me perhaps I could turn this interest in story-telling into a refreshing way of living.  How hard could it be?  I became convinced my words would be worthwhile enough for people to pay me money, enabling me to live freely, roam the world, and never again have to work in a nine-to-five job.  Success would surely come.

My first children's novels, I wrote feverishly, full of excitement.  I studied the genre, I attended workshops, I went to writers' conferences, I joined the SCBWI, I constantly read the best in children's literature.  I sent out my manuscripts time and time again.  The result was hardly any affirmation, and certainly no novels accepted for publication by major publishers.  I did get a monetary award for a YA historical fiction novel, which convinced me my novel would sell.  It did not.

Yeah, well--I can see other writers nodding their heads…

My thirst did not abate, but after twenty years of effort, I was ready to throw in the writer's towel, heartbroken at all the rejections, convinced of the utter futility of continuing.  Along came a writer friend, Eddy Pendarvis, who, like me, was a big fan of Pearl Buck's work.  It aggravated us that Buck never received sufficient acclaim for her writing achievements.  In spite of winning a Nobel Prize in literature, her work was strongly criticized by the literary establishment, and still is today.  We wanted to find ways to promote her best works, to acclaim this woman of high achievement and high principled altruism.  Doesn't that make you think of children's literature writers?  We little knew where our ideas would lead, but we wrote a children's story.

Eddy led the way.  She knew a Chinese scholar, Berlin Fang, who'd helped translate Peter Conn's Pearl S. Buck, A Cultural Biography into Chinese.  Berlin suggested we send our work to the Chinese publisher.  It seemed an unlikely hope, but we gave it a try.  We were offered a contract to complete the work: no royalty agreements, no definite yes to publication, merely an agreement the book might be something this publisher could use if we got it to them on time in the length they wanted.  No money, friends said, for all that work.  Don't do it!  When you have hardly made a penny for your work for years, it didn't seem a big deal to decide we weren't in this for the big bucks, but for the Buck book (forgive the pun).  We had nothing to lose.

While we sipped tea at Tim Horton's, we talked about what to write, nurturing each other's suggestions, eventually coming up with twenty chapter ideas.  A lot of reading and research ensued.  If ever I love to do something, it is looking up facts, and letting them blossom into who knows what.  It was pure nectar following leads, trying to get facts straight, writing something tailored for Chinese students.

Our deadline loomed: we met in Hillsboro, WV, where Pearl S. Buck was born, to participate in the Pearl S. Buck International Writers' Conference.  Eddy orchestrated our participation, and Eddy insisted I come along.  What a good friend!  Others too ( Kitty Griffin, Marie Manilla, Laura Bentley, Philip St. Clair, Kathy Combs, Jim Gifford, Susan Caldwell to name a few), have turned my writing life from arid desert to crystal waters.  Eddy had obligations to fulfill at the event, but in between, we worked feverishly, putting our chapters together, smoothing out the writing, trying to get rid of the overlapping ideas we'd both used.  As I recall, at the end of the evening before we retired to our tiny room in a B & B, we sipped on fruit wine (Yes, Kathy, I am still drinking wine).

Eddy fed our completed chapters to Berlin who, with great mastery of both languages, translated them into Chinese.  We agreed on a three-way split of royalties.

Before long, we sent the best version we could manage to the publisher.  It seemed to take forever, but eventually a contract arrived.  We signed it.  The book we co-authored, Between Two Worlds: a Biography of Pearl S. Buck, was eventually released by the Shanghai Foreign Language Education Press in China as an English/Chinese reader.

The published book, beautifully illustrated on good stock, filled us with satisfaction.  We three (two writers and one translator) received royalty checks for about $200 each--not a huge sum, but a reminder of the power of friendship, persistence, connectedness.  For me, as well, this book gave hope for other writing projects.

My urge to write had definitely been encouraged.  I rewrote, reformatted, revised and sent out tighter versions of two young adult novels.  I gave up worrying about the outcome, I stopped needing anyone to tell me my work was good enough, and I accepted whatever happened.  At last, two publishers offered me contracts.  Instead of Harper Collins or Holt (do they even exist anymore?), my books got taken on by Bloodmoon and Rogue Phoenix.

The big publishers didn't want my novels, which certainly humbled me, but these e-publishers with funky names said yes.  At first, I felt despondent:  Blood moon, I muttered to myself, Rogue Phoenix?  But, you know, it's been a wonderful experience.  The editor and publisher, Christine Young (RoguePhoenix), has given me insightful suggestions greatly improving my historical fiction novel.  Marlene Satter (aka Lee Barwood), my editor at Bloodmoon, whose supernatural novels inspire me, is a psychic soul mate.  Her book, Some Cost a Passing Bell, available on Amazon, is a book about mystical gifts used for love of Mother Earth.

I believe I can hear the universe chuckling.  I am laughing too, no longer concerned about money or recognition, simply enjoying the process, whether good and bad, for no doubt I have become a better writer, and hopefully I am a deeper person.  I feel as if I am drinking sweet water from a freshly dug well.

A Writer's Place: Musings on Workspaces

I'm filling in today for Fran, who was lucky enough to escape the gray Pittsburgh winter for a few days. She'll share her magical writing space in the country when she returns.

I've especially enjoyed this month's theme and the opportunity to peek into the places where so many talented people create. I've long recognized that I'm a voyeur of sorts - like many writers, I like to listen in on conversations in restaurants, observe the behavior of others in stores and airports, and stare at old photos of people I've never met and wonder about their lives. And, as it turns out, I especially like to look behind the scenes at the private worlds of writers. I'm grateful that I've been able to glean ideas useful for my own work processes (like Jenny's magic board and Susan's project subfolders) and studio (I'm drooling over Carol H.'s colorful bins and lovely antiques).  Most of all, though, I'm grateful for the reassurance that I'm not alone! Lots of other fabulous writers work amongst clutter, and even a bit of disorder. Thank you all!

Perhaps my biggest take-away, though, has been a reminder that writing can happen anywhere. You don't need an expensive or perfectly arranged office, top of the line electronics and fancy gadgets, or even utter peace and quiet. All you need are the simplest of tools - a pen or pencil, some scraps of paper, a place to park your body - and focus. Which is why I've spent some time the last few days putting pen to paper in my comfy chair. And when the dog barks or the phone rings, I just remind myself that Scott Turow wrote the bestseller Presumed Innocent on the train while riding back and forth to his job as an attorney - and my distractions are minor compared to those on a commuter train.

Still, if you're like me - you might feel like lusting over more writers' studios anyhow. So here are some extra resources.

The UK's Guardian has an unbelievably fabulous series on the workspaces of creative people (mostly writers but also some illustrators and musicians), both historic and contemporary. You can check out the little table and chair where Jane Austen penned her classics or the interesting shed where Roald Dahl worked or dozens of other intriguing work rooms.

Check out the interesting (and often funny) book above by the author of The Omnivore's Dilemma and Food Rules: An Eater's Manual (among others). It details Pollan's design and construction of a really lovely backyard writing shed - despite his complete lack of architecture and carpentry skills. Along the way, he muses about lots of other topics too.

The blog Apartment Therapy features workspaces pretty regularly. Here's a recent roundup of of at-home writing areas.

Photographer Jill Krementz has created this wonderfully evocative photo essay of the rooms where many prominent writers penned or typed their beloved tomes.

I also love Jo Packham's book Where Women Create. She has a whole series of related books - tasty eye candy and also good ideas to borrow.

And finally, if you're still craving somewhere away from home to get some work done (and you live in or near the right cities), check out the writing spots available to rent inexpensively through the organization The Writer's Room.