Gratitude in Writing

Writing doesn't happen in a vacuum. If it does, all too often, it isn't much good. Ideas that are challenged grow wings - so long as the challenging is done with respect and love. Any of you who've looked at my books and taking any note of the huge list of acknowledgements in the front. know I thank the same people over and over again. That's for a reason. They're the people I can count on through thick and through thin to talk me down from whichever writing ledge I may be staring down. Fellow Word Whores Jeffe Kennedy and KAK and former Word Whore Carolyn Crane will all give me the straight skinny my stories and/or ideas.

I'm lucky in that I have a local critique group that meets in person. Lisa Wanttaja, Darcy Carson, DeeAnna Galbraith and Melinda Rucker Haynes work their backsides off combing whatever I'm writing to make sure I'm making sense and the stories hold together. The great thing about this group is that it's been meeting since before forever. These ladies know me and my writing. Sometimes, it means they know what I *meant* to say but failed to. Sometimes, it means they can nail me for taking the easy way out of a conflict conundrum. When I can't see the forest or the trees, they're terrific at prodding me out of my rut and help me think differently about what I'm doing.

I have some of the best editors on earth and I am grateful for each and every one of them. Even my copy editors - ask any of my crit partners. I complain about my CEs. I do. And then I get over myself and seriously evaluate everything my copy editors suggest because the entire point is change my brain about how the story went together. It's the old sales technique: If there's a better way to make your point, you'd want to know about, right? Damn it. NO. . . Eh. Yeah. Yeah, I do. But I'm gonna grumble about it! It's all in the name of building a better book.

My family. My parents. My husband. My cats. All of them. These are the people who haven't (and who still don't) kill me for getting lost in my stories. They're now my biggest cheerleaders. My mother would be knocking on your door to hand sell my books to you if she liked to fly more than she does.

But you know what I'm most grateful for? You guys. Readers. Thank you. Seriously, thank you.

Thanks for All the Tips

In the realm of things to be grateful for as far as career goes, I have far too much stuff to list. Because of that, I'm going to go for two people who might not expect to show up on a posting about gratitude, but both have had an impact on my writing.

First: Elizabeth Boyle and subsequently RWA- I won't say how many years ago it was, but it was before Elizabeth had been published, much less before she became a New York Times best selling author. She and I worked for a large software company that shall not be named. We belonged to an email group of writers within the company. Elizabeth sent out an email inviting anyone who wanted to sit in on a local RWA meeting. I went and have been a member ever since. I can't say enough about the generosity of RWA members. It was at those meetings that I learned the difference between external conflict and internal conflict. I found my critique groups (I've been through a few - because no one group will be a good fit for all people - nor will all people be a good fit for an existing critique group. Gotta find the right vibe.) It is entirely safe to say that were it not for RWA, I wouldn't likely be published. Therefore, without Elizabeth sending out an email invitation to a group of writers, I wouldn't have found and joined RWA.

My second debt of gratitude goes to a kid I grew up with, as much as a pair of Air Force brats can grow up with one another. He and I may have been siblings in a previous life and the fact that we weren't siblings in *this* life meant that we could be friends. The kind of friends were it doesn't matter how much time has passed since last you spoke - the minute you get on the phone or see one another in person - it's as if no time had passed at all. As kids, he and I came up with stories, all science fiction, all action oriented. If no one was shooting at us or chasing us down in our playground spaceship, the story wasn't going right. I grew up to go to acting school and to become an author. He grew up to go to the Air Force Academy where he studied astroengineering and astrophysics. He became a test pilot, worked on satellite systems, and eventually ended up working in the Pentagon. Right about the time I started seriously working on the story that became my debut novel, I hadn't had a chance to talk to him in a few years. But I needed some physics reality checking for my story. I emailed. And had an answer almost immediately. He was one of the people I called right away when I got the call that the book he'd helped me with was going to be published.

I am very lucky to have a group of good friends who've seen me through rejections, rewrites, self-doubt and yet more rewrites. They've been here for me when I needed an emergency read on a project. We've all worked together through any number of books. I'm grateful for every single one of them - but I get to see them and talk to them all reasonably often. I get to tell them thank you on a regular basis.

Not so with Dr. Kurt "Spuds" Vogel, LtCol, USAF (retired). So I wanted to say thank you, today. I'm grateful for the kind of friend who'd see me through from the time we were kids running around school playgrounds with Lego guns (on weekends, when no one would call the police on us for pretending we had blasters) to now - and still agree to answer my science questions. We still don't talk as often as we should, really. Though he did manage to butt dial my phone and leave a muffled message. He informs me I was listening in on the Pentagon and a couple of guys should be by shortly to. . . oops. Someone at the door.

Thankful: the Non-definitive List

I really don't even know where to start with the thankfulness and blessings thing. So, I'm just going with the things that pop into my head, not in any sort of ranking of importance:

1. A day off work. Nowhere special to be, nothing that needs to be done. No life and death problems to solve, no phone summoning me out of the house. Jammies 'til noon if I feel so inclined.

2. Living in a small town. We actually went into town on Friday, the Viking and I, although we are pretty much anti-Black Friday. There were no maddened crowds, no pepper spray, no shoving matches. We walked down main street and looked at the stores. We popped into the jewelry store to see if they could clean a tarnished silver chain and the jeweler treated us like we were the most important customers in the world and charged a pittance. We popped into the kitchen store, browsed around, and bought nothing. We went into the good juju store and bought incense. We sat down in the cafe and had a cup of excellent espresso. Everybody was relaxed and smiling and friendly.

3. Leftovers. There is nothing quite like leftover turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy and green bean casserole. And pie. Lots, and lots of pie.

4. Family. College Boy is home for a few days. Guitar Boy is hanging out. The Viking is home. Thanks to phones and internet the rest of the far flung family is available at the touch of a few buttons.

5. The Cat. Even though we caught her up on the table eating the butter, even though she seems possessed the last few days with some particularly mischievous demon, I'm still grateful for the warm purry fur ball.

6. Internet friends. I'm sometimes astonished at the generosity and support writers show each other, and profoundly grateful to all those who have assisted me with my writing, in ways large and small.

7. Gnarly Head Old Vine Zin. 'Nuff said.

8. Books. My book shelves stacked and double stacked with favorites old and new. All of the books waiting to be read, in paper or electronic. Books written by people I "know" because of Twitter. Truly, this seems like magic to me sometimes.

9. Novel ideas bouncing around in my head and creating new ideas every time they collide. There is nothing quite like the lovely buzzing of a plot coming together half in-half out of the subconscious.

10. Flowers, out of season. A bright splash of color on the windowsill.

11. Plenty of wood for the winter, and a woodstove to burn it in. Nothing pushes back the darkness like the warm and toasty glow of a fire.

12. The trees and mountain and sky I see when I look out of my writing window.

Well, I could go on and on for a very long time, so I'll stop there. Your turn. What things are you especially thankful for today?