Why I Write

Darian Wilk recently posted a wonderful review of Painted Black, and also gave me an opportunity to write a guest post for her blog.  In it, I explore what it was about the streets of Chicago and the people who live there that inspired me to tell this story.  I hope you will click the link to read the whole article.

There is also a week left to WIN A FREE COPY of Painted Black by entering the giveaway on her site.

I have always felt an affinity for the disenfranchised, the outcast, the underdog. Volunteer work with the homeless seemed a natural outlet for this calling. Fully intending to pursue this option, I researched before relocating and discovered The Night Ministry in Chicago had a mission statement that spoke to me. Their goal is to build relationships that empower people to meet their own needs. They do that while “recognizing the uniqueness, dignity, and value of each person.”

This was exactly what I wanted to do: to “be” there when someone needed to talk, laugh or share their tears. To try to feed their hunger, physical and otherwise.

I’m not good at preaching, debating social issues, or advocating political change, although there is a place for all of those. I am good at writing. Storytelling. And the alienated and overlooked in our society are filled with stories that deserve to be heard.

The problem is no one wants to listen. Not to them, not to anyone standing on a soapbox trying to make everyone listen. There are many reasons why people want the homeless to remain mute and invisible. Most commonly it is because it makes us uncomfortable to think something as horrible as homelessness could happen to good people. It’s so much easier to think a homeless person is there simply due to some deficiency on their part: mental illness, addiction, lack of ambition. Those issues are often factors but the person who is homeless is in many ways, at some level, no different from anyone else.

So my effort to tell the important tales, to spread the lessons I learned on my journey, needed to find a voice that people could hear without being reminded of their own vulnerability. For me that voice is found in fiction, and in this particular case, suspense fiction.  ….read more

via Darian Wilk.

What a Way to Make a Living

I’m pretty sure Rebecca O’Connor and I would be great friends if we knew each other.  The sentence quoted below is enough to make me think so (she’s a tequila advocate, people!–go Rebecca) but the sentiments she expresses in her post makes me positive it’s true.

I read this post right after my morning walk with my dog, Sophie where I was conversing with myself about my future.  It’s been almost a year since I decided to go part time at work so that I could concentrate on my writing.  The part time work has dwindled down to next to nothing, and some weeks is nothing.  Freelance writing is not going to support me in the foreseeable future. Without a college degree or technical knowledge which would make me an expert in some field, it could be years before that would be possible. If ever.  There are a lot of people out there vying for writing jobs who are willing to do it for next to nothing.  “Next to nothing” does not pay the electric bill.

As for the income potential of my novel Painted Black, unless I’m lucky–and I’ve never been very lucky–a first novel is more about establishing the foundation of a career rather than earning a living.  I don’t expect to see any measurable income made from the book this year.  Maybe not ever.  The income potential lies in getting book two out.  And three, and….  If I’m a very good girl and live long enough, I may actually see royalty checks one day.

So why am I still doing it?  Because I’m mad at myself for not doing it earlier in my life when I had more time to build a reputation.  Because I love not having a full time job to go to.  Because I love my characters and the message I’m trying to convey. Because this is what I want to do with my life, damn it, and I’m tired of being too timid to go for it.

And if that means I may find myself forfeiting my mortgage or selling most of my worldly possessions, then all I have to say is, “Hi, Mom.  Is the guest room ready yet?”

So now you are thinking, “Okay, Little Miss Glass-Is-Pretty-Much-Empty-So-Bring-Me-Some-Tequila. So what do you say to someone insane enough to walk away from her day job to write for a living?”

via A Letter to My Friends and Family | Rebecca K. O’Connor.