This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by
Goddess Fish Promotions. Natalie Johanson will be awarding a signed physical copy of book (US only) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
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I love to write. I jokingly say writing keeps me sane. I have so many stories, people, places, things swirling around in my head I need to get out and on paper. I love building the worlds I imagine or the people I create. Each person is a little part of me, or...at least who I wish I could be. That doesn’t always mean I
can write. Or that what I’m writing is any good. Sometimes I want to write; I have the drive to put something on paper and craft a masterful story but I can’t think of a damn thing to say. I sit there and stare at the forsaken curser, blinking at me like it’s judging me for my inability to type anything.
Sometimes I’m writing something and I’m looking at it thinking I’m a damn genius. I’ll re read it days later and laughing at my hilarious dialogue. “Damn I’m good,” and I pat myself on my back. Then I remember the piles, well metaphorical piles since everything is electronic now, of rejection letters. And I’ll look at what I’m writing and think: “is it
really that good? Or am I that delusional? What’s wrong? What am I doing wrong?”
Writing is hard. And it sucks. Having the thick skin to keep submitting your writing is even harder. You work so hard to get the stories from your head down onto the paper. You cry and bleed, (those paper cuts are brutal) you drink way too much caffeine and you pour your heart into your masterpiece. You send it off to the editor, which can be even more terrifying, waiting for the harsh mark of the red pen. You look at all the red marks and try not to take it personal. All the changes are needed. But all you see are the editor is telling you what you wrote before wasn’t good enough.
Yes, I know that’s not what they mean. But it’s hard not to feel like that for a minute. I mean…this is personal to me. I wrote this! This is my baby! I made this! I’ve created and nurtured this thing. Be nice to it. But you get past that. You gather your wounded pride back together and polish up your writing…you send your precious baby off again. And you’re met with rejection after rejection.
It’s really hard to find the courage to keep writing after that. The definition of crazy is doing the same thing and expecting a different result after all. Even now, years later, and my precious baby is in the hands of a publisher, I still feel like that sometimes. I was rejected for years. Over and over and over. I lost count of how many email responses of “not right for us but the market is subjective” I received. Or “it doesn’t fit our catalog right now but the market is subjective”. Or the worse one yet, “I wasn’t intrigued enough to want to request more”. Ouch man. That’s what every writing wants to hear. “Your writing bored me.” *Insert image of me clutching my chest*. Want me to twist that knife a little for you?
So, how do you keep going? How does anyone?
You say “fuck them” and keep going. That’s how. Maybe with a strong shot of tequila for good measure.
The market is huge. There are so many readers out there and every day someone new is picking up a book. There are millions of publishers. So, you keep tweaking that query letter. Keep changing up your pitch. The best thing I learned was to have someone read your work and describe your own book back to you. Sometimes they pick up on things you never noticed.
I used to pitch and describe my book as a fantasy adventure about a girl fighting to save her kingdom. Then my friend read my manuscript and I asked her to describe it to me. She told me my book was a coming of age story about a girl trying to find acceptance for herself and realize who she really is. I stared at her with an open mouth because yes, my book
was that. I just hadn’t seen it. So, don’t let yourself fall into a stagnant pit and keep changing, altering, searching for that hook that works.
And send it to everyone you can think of. Prepare yourself for a lot of no’s. Don’t let that get under your skin. Now, I could say something inspiring about how JK Rowling was rejected tons of times but, let’s be real. JK Rowling I am not. But the sentiment remains. Rejection is going to hurt but remember, fuck them, and keep going.
Remind yourself why you write. I write so I can stay sane. So I can have book with my name on it sitting on my shelf. I want to be able to point at it and say, “I made dis”. I write so I can build the world that’s been in my head since I was 10, and read
Green Rider, and was pissed the king didn’t end up with the heroine so, I decided I would write one where he does. Because fuck ‘em.
Sometimes writing really sucks. Then other times, it’s all I can think to do with myself.
Rose Trewin is on the run. Pursued by memories of her father, she runs from city to city, seeking normalcy. But Rose can’t escape her past, or the magic running through her veins, the magic that allows her to slip through the shadows unnoticed. The magic her father once used to mold her into a mercenary sent to destroy his enemies.
Now her magic is growing and changing, becoming something new and untamable. Rose is unable to rest. Wolves wrapped in fog follow her relentlessly along the countryside. Desperate, she uses her magic to escape, but the shadows are pushing her towards the center of a conspiracy.
Now, her country teeters on the brink of a civil war as a Lord Governor gathers power against the king. An enemy, with magic similar to her own, emerges in the chaos of political intrigue. Faced with a country at war and a king brought to his knees, Rose must accept who she is and harness her powers in order to save her country and herself.
Read an Excerpt:
Nico, back in that small clearing, was limping backward with his sword held defensively in front of him. A strange man paced back and forth in front of Nico, a sword held in one hand and a dagger in the other.
It is not my problem, she thought to herself and started to pull back, but stopped. When did she become this callous? She’d done terrible things in her past, more to stay hidden from her father but when did that make her soulless? She watched Nico struggle to stay on his feet. He had been kind to her, had tried to help her, and Rose had been about to leave him to his death. When had she become so cold?
Rose growled at herself and dropped into the mists of her shadows. She would not let herself become that person. Her head pounded, and Rose grit her teeth against the ache. It was a few quick steps through the darkness and Rose was back in the clearing with Nico and the mercenary. Rose stayed in the shadows, a shapeless form flowing in the darkness, looking and waiting.
Two were following Nico but only one was here. Where was the other?
“Where is it?”
Nico shook his head and adjusted the grip on his blade.
“The information you stole, where is it?” the man sneered. “I’m killing you either way, but if you could save me the time of hunting down any partners you have…”
The man raised his sword, and Rose saw her moment. She emerged from the shadows, saw stars as the pain in her head exploded, and kicked out hard with her foot. The clearing echoed with the man’s scream as her foot crashed into his knee.
About the Author: Natalie Johanson grew up and lives in the valley of Salt Lake City surrounded by the beautiful Rocky Mountains. Her days are spent trying to herd her two cats, Holmes and Watson. Natalie’s summers are spent camping with her fiancée or doing obstacle races with her best friend. She usually spends her winters hiding from the snow. This is the first of what will hopefully become a trilogy, but sometimes the characters do what they want.
Website:
http://www.nataliejohanson.com
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/nataliejohansonauthor
Instagram:
http://www.instagram.com/natalietheauthor
Links to buy:
Publisher:
https://widopublishing.com/product/shadows-voice-by-natalie-johanson-2/
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/194796612X
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