Hello, awesome readers!
I recently wrote about the quirky side of writing and how sometimes the voices in your head are assholes because they make you feel like you are the outsider. The outsider of what, you ask? The outsider of your own life. Maybe it’s just me.
If you missed it, the post is called The writer life. Wear running shoes.
Today we’re going to visit the other side of writing. The side that feels like a hot bubble bath on a cold day, with candles and wine and soft music. But not the kind of music you hear in elevators. I’m talking about the music that makes you feel happy to be alive.
A little Johnny Cash, perhaps? What about Adele or The Beatles or Led Zeppelin or Bach? I’m easy. Although not heavy metal. I don’t understand that
shit style of music.
These are the days when the voices are actually working WITH you instead of judging you.
These are the days I live for.
But in the voices’ defense, I NEED them. Because of them, I have this library of my own thoughts.
I call these my headbooks and I’ve been writing in them ever since I realized that no, wax crayons are NOT, in fact, for picking your nose. (It was a big day.)
So here’s what’s going on …
I have a publisher that’s interested in one of my book projects, a memoir for single mothers.
Chronicling my journey of single parenting and self-discovery, this book combines humor with reflection, and covers topics such as guilt, dating, and why putting tennis socks in your bra is never a good idea.
The publisher and I had a scheduled conference call to discuss the book yesterday but had to reschedule to Monday. No biggie because at the time I was in the flow, working on another book project: a non-fiction book about success and leadership. (This is a client project.)
And then there are these two literary agents that I’m in communication with. I shouldn’t go into the details but I will anyways because I’d love your opinion.
So here’s my … shall we call it a dilemma?
One of the agents is also interested in the single mom memoir but has suggested that I expand it to target women in general, instead of writing it from the single mom perspective. It’s a good suggestion and I’ll make that decision after my call with the publisher on Monday.
That said, the single mother aspect is an important one and it’s a project that’s close to my heart because single mothering is a difficult job and I – like many – are finding the light at the end of the tunnel and I would love the opportunity to share my experiences and even shed some light on the daily challenges that single mothers are faced with.
Oh. I may have just answered my own question. I’m pretty sure that I’m going to stick with Plan A and suggest a sequel to the agent. What do you think?
This agent is also interested in another book project that I’m working on. It’s the story of a woman serial killer and writing it keeps me up at night. In case you’re wondering, the answer is no. It is not a memoir.
The second agent that I’m speaking with thinks I should develop the blog post, The House That Found Me, into a book. If you haven’t read it, it’s the story of how I went to an auction to look at a lawn mower and ended up bidding on the house.
This conversation has been going on for several months and to be honest, while I do plan on developing this into a coming-of-age story about the 18 months that I spent in a Century-old house, I’m just not sure that it should be next on my “to write” list.
Yeah, so that’s what’s going on. One book publisher. Two literary agents. Four book projects.
More news at 11.
No wait! I’ll be sleeping at 11.
How about just, stay tuned …
Follow this blog with Bloglovin.