“To write something, you have
to risk making a fool of yourself.”
~ Anne Rice
 |
| Yep, I'm in the back on the left. Ms. Rice in the front. |
I’ve
had the honor and pleasure of meeting Ms. Rice a few months ago, sat down and
spoke with her and those words are rather appropriate for me. We spoke during the long weekend event several times. So very cool! Made the entire trip worthwhile. Oh, and met her son Christopher (also an author) as well.
Perhaps others
who read this post today will feel the same way about what she said about writing.
As
writers, we encounter a varying amount of praise to criticism, great reviews to
comments bordering on bullying, or success to failure with sales. I don’t know
about other authors, but my stories are my babies for the time I’m writing
them. A while back, I had to learn to let them go and move on to the next one
and not get too attached to them. But darn! There are some characters I’ll
defend and love to the end, and have a hard time letting them go. If I have to
make a fool out of myself keeping them around, so be it.
I
think any creative hobby or profession is always a risk. Heck! Life is a risk
every day, but add to the equation putting something out for public consumption
is scary stuff. Take making a sale out of the picture for this discussion, and
you’re still left with anyone like what I’ve written? How about the plot? Is it
original? Do the characters pop off the page—have depth and are they likeable?
Or do we just say screw it, I’m writing for what I like and if I never sell a
single copy, and I’m okay with that?
I’ve
been a published author for three years and in this time I’ve not only evolved
in my writing but I’ve also noticed an evolution in the romance genre. I’m mean
look at what Ms. Rice did back in the 70’s with her writing. Vampires have
evolved from her Lestat. And look at E.L. James. Despite what anyone thinks of
the famous, insanely popular trilogy, she did bring the idea of the BDSM
lifestyle more into mainstream. She’d been bashed for writing the story as fan fiction
and she still persevered and probably felt like a fool for dealing with the
criticism along the way, but she’s smiling now. All the way to the bank.
I
plan to keep making a fool of myself.
Here’s
a snippet from my latest foolish attempt at writing, The Misadventures of Dick Grewcock.
Enjoy and I’ll see you next month.
Dick
never realized becoming a vampire would be such a depressing let down. Before
making the choice, he read all the books concerning the transformation process,
what happened before, during, and after. He watched movies, some of the worst
and best. The decision came easy. The difficult part required finding the
perfect sire. From everything he’d learned on the subject, for optimum results
of an undead after-life, one had to select an experienced and ancient vampire. Their
blood was evidently purer. The biggest problem he faced had been where the hell
did he find one?
The
Internet? Word of mouth? No. An old,
dark castle? Forget that one. Florida is
fresh out of dank and dreary medieval manors. Surprisingly, he did locate a
bona fide vampire. At least the advertisement suggested the existence of one.
Andreaus Vladimirescu, the owner of Vamps ‘R Us, Dick later learned, believed
in branding his company. Even the VRU emblem plastered on the wall entering the
lobby was used on all marketing materials. Dick assumed discretion was the
moniker for the vamp community, but how wrong his presumption turned out. Of
all places to look, Dick found the elder vamp through the Yellow Pages six months ago. At first he thought the ad nothing
more than a possible Goth cult-like nonsensical scam, but soon learned
otherwise after he met Master Vlad. So began the journey to the dark side.
After exhaustive weeks of preparation, the deed was done and led him to
tonight’s visit.
The
walk down the long hallway brought back memories of the first visit to meet
Master Vlad. Dick remembered the high anxiety he experienced, the anticipation
of finally getting what he coveted—becoming a sexy, young-looking thirty-two
year old, virile and immortal vampire. With the trip tonight, the euphoric mood
faded and in its place, anger.
With
a deep breath to calm his nerves before crossing the threshold of the private
office, Dick’s heart sped up, thumping hard against his ribs. Thank goodness he
ate before arriving, or his legs would have given out. The tall, female
assistant closed the door behind him.
“Mister
Grewcock, how are you this evening?” The six foot plus, pasty male vampire
asked. Vlad stood in front of the mini-bar, holding a decanter. “Care for some?
It’s fresh.” He grinned and poured a glass of blood.
“No,
thanks. We need to talk.” Dick’s voice sounded edgy to his own ears. Actually,
irritation with a bit of anger described his tone. He had to keep composure or
else he knew the older vampire could vanquish him as easily as he had turned
him. Dick wanted his old life back, not have his existence wiped off the face
of the Earth.
“Of
course, Mister Grewcock. Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”
Dick
sat in a chair positioned askew at the corner of the massive, cherry wood desk.
Upon sinking down, way down, quite a bit lower than the piece of furniture in
front of him. The position put him a couple inches off the floor. The Shaq
couldn’t tower over Vlad sitting in this chair. Perhaps his imagination played
tricks on him again. Lately his senses acted out of whack, misfiring at the oddest
moments, another reason for his visit to Master
Vlad, as the ancient vamp preferred to be addressed.
Sucking
in a deep breath before speaking, Dick’s voice squeaked. “I want my money back
along with my life, the old human one.” He stumbled over a few of his words
while keeping his eyes lowered. Speaking this way was so out of his comfort
zone. He peeked up sheepishly and caught the ancient one staring.
Cynthia Arsuaga
Erotic Romance Author
Hello and welcome back to another post about life and my musings on it. Have you ever been so upset about how things were going for you, only to find out about someone who had it much worse? I have... my best friend, Anna Coy. And each time, I feel like giving up, I think of her. You may remember a post I did a while ago about my friend and I writing text messages about what we were grateful for. The daily pick-me-ups were wonderful for helping us get through some tough times.
Anna and I grew up in the same small town. We sat by each other in government class and attended the same church. During my senior year, she was my best friend. But like any friendship, time and space pulled in different directions. Anna was working as a singer with bands in California for a few years and then in Costa Rica. Her voice was Joan Jett with the bluesy of Aretha. I literally broke the cassette tape of her singing. 
She'd also gone on to develop and teach the "Whole Body Breathing System". Her work was being used by practitioners around the world. She'd even worked with Deepak Chopra and Dean Ornish and had been a personal coach for years. I looked up to her and celebrated her many successes.
We kept in touch...by phone and letters...then through email and text. While we each had been living our lives, she'd had some tough times. She'd broken her neck and had a plate put in to keep the spine in place. After the second break, she'd asked me to come visit her. She'd been in pain and was very scared about surgery to repair the new break. It turned out that she had every reason to be worried. The screws holding the old plate in place had punctured her esophagus and her vocal box was damaged. In addition, she had nerve damage. Her whole life was about to change. 
And so was mine....For during my week-long stay with her, I wrote my second book and edited my first book. Seeing Anna going through such a life-changing event with the possibility of death, I decided to take a chance on my own. 
Thank you for sharing a little of your day with me. I hope you have a wonderful Valentine's Day and until we meet again next month!!
