Sunday, February 6, 2011


If you are at all familiar with the Myers Briggs Personality Type, then you know that, according to the theory, all people fall into one of sixteen personality type. I am proud to say that I am an ENFP. Say it with me… E… N… F… P. I love being this personality type. We love people and we love ideas, as long as we aren’t expected to focus on the details. In short, we are horrible writers! Sitting alone with a computer is a challenge… thank goodness we have out characters to keep us company. We love an idea of a book and get started, only to find the pull of another story catching our attention. (And of course by “our” and “we” I mean “I”.) But here’s the problem with me being me. When I have been focused on one project for a long time, I tend to get distracted by… um… anything else. I once read a list of bumper sticker slogans for the different MBPTs and the ENFP goes something like, “Yeah, I can get that to you… oh my, what a pretty bird… anyways, what were we talking about?”

Why am I rambling about my personality type? I have this new book… the beginning of a new series, and while it’s still YA, it’s a total departure from The Partizans. It’s kind of a thriller/pre-dystopian plot, and I am totally obsessed with the structure of it right now. I think it may have more to do with the fact that working on my query letter and writing my synopsis is more about the technical side of getting published and less about hanging out with my characters. It’s taking all kinds of control to attempt to stay focused on finishing up all the loose ends of the book and getting it ready to go out to agents. I keep wanting to just send it out so I can say I did it and move on to the next project. I suppose this is good training. Once I get an agent and eventually a contract, I will have to stay focused regardless of my personality tendencies. After all, I don’t think a publisher or agent would accept the “My ENFP made me do it” excuse.

You know the old saying, “What doesn’t kill us will make us stronger?” Yeah… I think, when I get through all the crossing “I”s and dotting “t”s, that I will be able to lift poor plot structure from the abyss and carry shallow characters to the point of redemption without breaking a sweat. Unless, of course, I see a pretty bird.

Happy Superbowl everyone!!! Be BOLD!

Thursday, February 3, 2011


There is a saboteur at work today! I have taken a short break from working on my novel to accommodate for some life changes and now, as I return to work, I am left with a mind-numbing lack of motivation. I know what I need to do, but it’s like I have work block… much bigger than writer’s block. So, being who I am, I decided to try to figure out the root cause of why my get up and go is in the corner blowing strawberries and I have come up with one answer. Being a writer is hard. I’m not complaining. I’m just stating a fact. Coming up with an idea, for me, is easy. Creating back story is a breeze. Even sitting down and pounding out the first draft comes as naturally as breathing. And that is where it ends. From that point forward, being a writer is a labor of love. Stray but a little from your focus and you begin to wobble under the weight of it all. I’m bored with doing research on agents, though I know it’s important to ensure my chances of finding the right match. Editing has become a bad word around my house and forget about the word syn…syn… synopsis. (It took a lot of effort just to type the word.)

But here’s the thing. The difference between a published novelist and an unpublished writer is persistence. Pushing through the negative thoughts, the mental and physical fatigue, making time in an already hectic life to repay those who have offered crits, and making sure that no one gets left at school because I’m living in a writing bubble are just a few of the things a writer must deal with on a daily basis. And I wouldn’t change it for anything. I was born to write. I am destined to be published and I am blessed to have the support carry on.

So it’s time to call back the muse, fire up Pandora and pull that writer’s fedora tight to my head and be who I am meant to be. Saboteur be damned!