Baseball

 

         If you followed this blog last fall, you know I like baseball. This year's season is just getting started and Saturday was the first time I watched a game. Now, the guy I live with thinks watching baseball on TV is like watching paint dry. I admit it is slower than the sports he likes to watch. But, I figure if I have to suffer through endless football (college and pro) and basketball games (March Madness), he can indulge me with a few Saturday afternoon baseball games.

In my mind, baseball equals summer. Since the season has started, summer is just around the corner so we'd better not have any more snow! My favorite team has always been the Tigers. I grew up in a Detroit suburb so how could I not like them. (Second fav team, St. Louis Cardinals—because of my mom who grew up there.) Summers in my teens meant lying in the shade with my little transistor radio tuned to Ernie Harwell for his play-by-plays. When I got older, I went to games in the old Briggs (then Tigers) stadium. I don't pretend to know all the players these days, but I sure knew them way back then. Al Kaline, Norm Cash, and Rocky Colavito. Mickey Lolich, Willie Horton, and Bill Freehan. And who can forget Mark "the Bird" Fidrych and the infamous Denny McLain?

         I've always followed the home teams of wherever I'm living. When we lived near Kansas City, I followed the Kansas City Royals. The year of the I-70 series between the Royals and the Cardinals tested my loyalty, as I'm sure my mom's was tested in the 1968 World Series between the Tigers and the Cardinals. When we lived in Chicago, I rooted for the Cubbies. I'm a sucker for the underdog. Still, the Tigers will always be my favorite team.

         Why I like baseball is complicated. Maybe it's the slower pace that is so refreshing in this hurry-up world. Baseball ranks right up there with Mom and Apple Pie as American staples. Another reason is that I can follow baseball. I know the rules. Plus, baseball reminds me of my mom and her mother. Gram took me to my first major league baseball game in St. Louis. She taught me how to keep score, which came in handy when my son's Little League team needed a scorekeeper.

         So why "muse" about baseball besides just liking it? (As far as I'm concerned that should be enough.) Last week, I wrote about second chances. In baseball, the players get many chances. I have to admire guys who get up to bat again and again, trying to connect with the ball. They don't give up. They strike out, fly out, get tagged out, and keep on trying. A corollary could be drawn between baseball and writing. We keep getting up to bat (sending manuscripts to editors and/or agents). Sometimes, we make it to the farm team (small publishers) and sometimes the majors (NY's big pubs). And many, many times, we don't make it at all. Yet, despite rejections, we suck it up, put our egos on hold, and try again.

       

 In the end, all that matters is we keep getting up to bat.

A Writer's Struggle

            I read a blog last Friday that really resonated. Robin LaFevers wrote The Writer’s Life is Full of Second Chances (or: Abandon Despair, All Ye Who Enter Here) on Writer Unboxed (a great blog, BTW). There was one line that made such an impression I had to share it. She said, "Just as we must dance as if no one is watching, we must write as if no one is reading."

            It's about taking chances, writing that novel for yourself, writing what you love (the book of your heart), even if you believe there is no market, that no publisher will ever take a chance on it. So, why did the blog make such an impact on me? I write futuristics. Not hard science fiction, more space adventure. Not a high-volume market. But that isn’t why I felt such a connection to LaFevers’ blog post. It was the part about second chances.

            There was a time when my writing took a back seat to what was happening in my life. Still, I kept at it. Sort of. Then, writing was shoved into the trunk. I carried it around with me, thought about it, but didn’t do much. Then, writing was moved to the garage and finally stuck in the basement. Out of sight, out of mind. I had no energy left to even think about my stories. When “life” returned to normal, I had the time to write and discovered another truism—use it or lose it. I’d lost that creative spirit. The muse said bye-bye and I never noticed. (I guess she got tired of being ignored and went to inspire someone who appreciated her—like Suzanne Collins, J.K. Rolling, or the above-mentioned Robin LaFevers.)

            It took a while but my creative energy came back. I issued an e-version of Switched, finished the sequel (which will be released shortly), wrote a YA futuristic, began a detective series, and I write this blog each week. How did I persuade the muse to return? I told myself to forget the career. I remembered the fun I had writing stories with my best friend in high school. We only shared them with each other. No turning them in for a grade in English class, no sending them to a magazine editor for publication. We wrote because it was fun. So that’s what I did to rediscover my spirit. I wrote for myself. It was very liberating. The enjoyment came back.

            Throughout that difficult time, there must have been a tiny part of me that still hoped I wouldn’t be a one-book wonder. I never completely left the business. I kept up my membership in Romance Writers of America and my local chapter, but I rarely read trade magazines, ignored most of the writer loops, and pretty much went silent on the remaining ones. I hardly ever attended meetings. But when I did, I got kicks in the pants from writer friends about not giving up. Slowly, the desire to share what I wrote returned. Writing what I enjoyed was the key. That and the admonition from Galaxy Quest, “never give up, never surrender”.

            I’m reminded of another movie quote, this time from Field of Dreams. “If you build it, they will come.” It certainly has for Robin LaFevers with her teen assassin nun in Grave Mercy. Doesn't that premise sound intriguing? It's definitely on my to-read list.

            Time will tell if this is my second chance. In the meantime, I’m still writing. I’m still having fun.

Conferences

     Conferences, conventions and trade shows are part of every industry. For a writer, there are so many that it's hard to decide which to attend—if any. Those on the national level, like Romance Writers of America's annual conference each summer, are usually very structured with several workshops scheduled each hour. I went to my first RWA conference in 1994 in New York City. Talk about overwhelming. Most of the time I was agog. OMG, was that Nora Roberts??? I gushed "I love your books" to my favorite authors. I met real, live editors and big name agents. Sheesh, I was so green. I went to every workshop before going into an information coma. There was so much to learn I didn't want to waste a single moment. I had no writing income so I felt like I had to justify the expense of the conference, hotel and airfare. I got smarter with subsequent conferences.

     For many years, I went to a regional conference called Autumn Authors, held in Chicago. It wasn't too far to drive from southwest Michigan, was less expensive than the national conference, and an amazing group of authors presented workshops in a more relaxed atmosphere. There were also opportunities for new authors to present workshops plus time to connect with other writers. I was so sorry when AA ended.

     At the opposite end of the spectrum from the national conference is Mid-Michigan RWA's Retreat from Harsh Reality. Now, that's a laid-back event. One multi-published author (this year, Eileen Dreyer) gives two talks and is available throughout the rest of the weekend. While the national conference is professional attire, the Retreat is T-shirts and blue jeans. It's a time to recharge one's creative batteries, a chance to catch up with friends and meet new ones, and just hang out with about fifty other writers.

     Each type of conference has a purpose, just as writers have different needs at different times in their writing careers. A national conference offers opportunities to meet editors and agents, learn firsthand what's happening in the industry, and (for newbies) learn basics of writing. Regional conferences are smaller in scope but offer some of the same opportunities. A small, intimate retreat can also be an introduction to writer conferences.

     Trade shows, like the American Booksellers Association and its affiliates, like the Great Lakes Booksellers Association, are opportunities for writers to interact with booksellers. Then, there's the RT (Romantic Times) Booklovers Convention, geared toward (you guessed it) readers. I've never been to the last but understand that writers and readers have an amazing time.

     Did you notice that one of the common threads is the opportunity to get together with others? Writing is a solitary profession. We write our stories alone, wherever we can carve out a space (a home office, the kitchen table, a coffee shop). We learn to shut out external sounds—either through strength of will or earplugs—and let our imagination take us to another place, another time. While our characters are very real to us, they exist in our heads. Eventually, we need to interact with real people who do the same things we do, people who really understand us.

     This month, I'm heading to Mid-Michigan's Retreat where I'll get together with like-minded people, have lunch (breakfast or dinner) with the amazing Eileen Dreyer, and get re-energized. All that and an amazing Friday Night Chocolate Fest.

     Do you go to conferences, conventions or trade shows? Why?

Adventure Books

Where were all the great adventure books for kids when we were growing up? I'm talking about books for the 10-14 year old reader. I'm talking about stories we could have identified with when we were that age. A difficult age. Not really a child but not an adult. There have always been lots of stories for little kids. What happened to the interesting books when we were in fifth through ninth grades?

The adults in our lives told us to read or gave us books like Robinson Crusoe, Robin Hood, Little Women—classics that were written long before our time and in a manner that required so much concentration we lost sight of the story. Where were the books written in our time? The only ones I remember were stories about teen girls in early Michigan by Elizabeth Howard, like Peddlar's Girl and North Winds Blow Free.

Maybe there were other books written then that I knew nothing about. We lived in a rural area where the library for our school (2 whole classrooms for K-8^th grades) consisted of a 3-shelf bookcase in each room. The public library was ten miles away. The county bookmobile came to our school once a month, I think, or maybe twice. My grandmother always sent a book for birthdays and Christmas. I know she meant well, but the books were the above-mentioned classics that never held my interest. While I enjoyed my mom's Nancy Drew collection, the books were written in the 1930s—more than a little before my time. A rumble seat? Ri-ight. I could really identify with that.

Where were the Harry Potters, the Katniss Everdeens, the Percy Jacksons, the Gallagher Girls? Today's books have characters who act and sound like contemporary kids. They have fantastic adventures. Their lives have at least a touch of reality that the reader can identify with. More than anything, though, I think it's the voice in which the stories are written that captures the reader's attention. The classics were written in the style of their time—the 1800s. They weren't classics then. They were just good stories. Then.

I am fascinated by all the books available for kids today. How to choose what to read next must be a problem for them. What a problem to have! Maybe an interested teacher or librarian who knows a kid well enough will recommend one—the way the bookmobile librarian did for me with the Elizabeth Howard books. More likely, it's one of their friends saying, "Hey, you gotta read this."

How I envy them this wealth of books. Or not. I can read those books, too.

What books do you remember from your pre- or early teen years?

After Vacation

Is it just me or do other people suffer from post-vacation letdown? After being away from home for over two weeks, I really wanted my routine back—not to mention sleeping in my own bed. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed our trip to Florida and South Carolina where we visited with family and friends, saw great sights, fished (not me), shopped (so not me), ate terrific seafood (definitely me) and basked in the warmth of the Florida sun. Of course, the warm weather followed us back to Michigan so it wasn’t like returning to brutal cold and snow. (Is this weather weird or what? Seventy degrees in March?)

The laundry is finally finished. (How do two people generate so much laundry?) I’ve sorted the mail and taken care of bills. The house was left in fairly good order. So why don’t I feel like doing anything? It seems like such an effort getting back to what used to be my routine. My husband did drag me kicking and screaming (sort of) to the fitness center the day after we returned. I guess he thought I didn’t do enough walking through antique stores with my sisters while he was throwing out those lures for the smart fishies.

On Saturday, I got the prod I needed. I went to our local writers’ meeting (the Mid-Michigan chapter of Romance Writers of America). Something special happens when a bunch of writers get together. All that creativity permeates the air, seeps into my pores, and I come back rejuvenated. I’m ready to do what's essential for a serious writer: put butt in chair and fingers on keyboard. Writers write. We may moan and groan about writer’s block or the disappearing muse or vacation letdown. But, in the end, if we don’t put those fingers on the keyboard or pencil/pen to paper, we’re not doing our job, we're not writers. Last week, I wrote about play. Now, it’s time to get back to that work-in-progress. No more excuses.

How do you get over vacations?

Play

One of the most enjoyable things we did on our vacation to Florida was go on a dolphin-watching tour. It was so much fun! I always knew dolphins jumped out of the water, but I didn’t realize how much they play. They leap and twist and race alongside tourist boats for fun. They say, of all the animals, dolphins are most like humans. It got me thinking about how humans play.

As children we played. When my uncles and their families visited we would have baseball games in the field behind our house (the same place Mom used to flood in the winter so we could ice skate). My dad’s brothers were a lot younger than he was. In fact, one of my uncles is only 10 years older than me. When you’re a kid and your uncles are in their twenties, they seem so cool. And they played baseball with us. Dad never played. He was the movie maker. Our play is forever memorialized on 8mm film.

It seems to me that as we age we “play” for something—a goal, a reward. When we play golf, we strive for a lowest score or when we play baseball or football, it’s the highest score we aim for. We play poker for money. But, do we ever play for no reason at all?

Have you watched how little children play? My grandchildren play dress-up. My granddaughter (4 ½) makes up stories that go along with whatever costume she wears. She insists I play the minister to marry her and her imaginary groom. Then, I get to be the clerk at the honeymoon hotel. Kids run and play with no incentives, no rewards, no keeping score. When/how did we lose that?

I love playing with the grandkids. No pressures, no keeping score. Just play for the sake of play. It’s a freedom I seldom experience. The only other thing I can compare to that freedom of play is when I begin writing a new book. The joy, the newness, the excitement of an adventure stretching out in front of me waiting for me to discover where the adventure is going and how the characters are going to get there. I’ve mentioned before that I’m more a pantser than a plotter so each story starts with a premise and I go with it. Eventually, I remind myself that this is my job, that finishing the book and sending it to an editor is the objective, that there is an incentive (selling the book to a publisher) and that brings about a reward (sales).

But, for a brief time, I can enjoy playing.

How about you? How do you play?

Meeting New Authors

One of the amazing aspects of being a member of Romance Writers of America is the camaraderie between members. I noticed this when I joined waaay back in 1993. Not just a warm friendliness but a truly genuine desire to help one another. One such author is Michele Stegman. She posted on an RWA loop about an opportunity for authors to tell how they met their husbands which she posted on her blog all during February. As I hope you recall, I participated. What a terrific way to be introduced to new readers. Turn-about is fair play so I would like to introduce you to Michele.

Welcome, Michele Stegman! Thanks for stopping by and sharing your passions.

I think it is wonderful when an author has a passion about something and puts it into her books.  For instance, a friend likes to do beadwork and wrote a book where the heroine does beadwork.  Another author writes books about quilters.

  I have a lot of interests, as you will see with a quick look at my website. www.michelestegman.com Two of my passions are hand spinning and weaving. As an author of historical romances, I enjoy “living in the past” as I card and spin up a fleece, then use the yarn I spin to weave a shawl or scarf.  And I think it is wonderful to know the name of the animal a piece of my clothing came from!

Before the Industrial Revolution (late 1700’s) a lot of time was taken up with spinning and weaving.  It was the only way to make cloth for clothing.  In some colonies, there were even laws about how much wool each person, including men and children, had to spin each week.

Clothing, bedding, and linens, are listed in old wills as important items that are passed on to the next generation.  A well made, homespun dress might last two or three generations.

But very seldom do I read anything about the heroine, or anyone else in a book, spinning or weaving.   I seldom see a spinning wheel or spindles in movies, either. 

So have I put a lot of spinning and weaving into my own books?  Well, I’m working on it.  In my next book, Conquest of the Heart, set in 1067 England, there is some mention of it.  And I’ve started a book about a woman whose profession is a hand spinner in 1665. 

Another passion of mine is cooking and baking and I have made use of this passion in my books.  In Fortune’s Foe, the heroine is a disaster in the kitchen and has to be rescued by another woman, who becomes the heroine in the next book in the series, Fortune’s Pride.  In Mr. Right’s Baby, my heroine also likes to bake--which is much appreciated by the hero.  What are your passions?  Do you like to read about them in romance books?  Or, if you are a writer, do you include your hobbies and passions in your writing?

Michele Stegman loves history and enjoys writing historical romance.  She also enjoys living her history in an 1840’s log cabin complete with spinning wheel, looms, and her own homemade soap.  Her daughter calls the place “Pioneer Village.”  But Michele appreciates modern technology, too, and could not get along without her laptop and iPad!

Mr. Right’s Baby is Michele’s only contemporary romance, a genre she never planned to write.  But one day she was driving along and the whole plot for the book popped into her head and she knew she had to write this one!  Mr. Right’s Baby can be found at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102049 and http://www.amazon.com/Mr-Rights-Baby-ebook/dp/B00655TAFA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1330303934&sr=1-1

For information on Michele’s other books as well as her passions (on her My Art page) visit her website at www.michelestegman.com