Simone Pond's Blog - Posts Tagged "my-writing-life"
Freelance monkey for sale
For the past month I've been freelancing in advertising. Years ago I tried to make a career in advertising when I didn't know how to do what I really wanted to do, which is write. Now I do it to pay the bills. I can say this freely and unabashedly without losing a potential gig because the people who hire me already know this. They knew it before I did.
Freelancing has been a wonderful tool as I navigate through this current chapter of life -- the one about becoming a full-time author. Advertising has been the bane of my existence and the blessing. I don't love the industry, and often question the moral and ethical aspects of it, but I've been doing it a long time and do my job pretty well -- and there is always work. This last opportunity came up when I was in the middle of my first draft for the third book. At first I wasn't going to take the gig because I've been struggling with my writing (third person is a challenge for me), but seeing the dollar sign got the wheels spinning. Money does have a sorta magical zing to it, doesn't it?
Here's my mantra with regards to money and cultivating my creative life: 1) The more money I make, the less time I spend in advertising and 2) The less money I spend, the less time I spend in advertising.
The common denomenator?
Pretty obvious, huh?
Spending less time in advertising.
So I took the gig because I wanted the money -- I didn't need the money, which is a blessing in itself (go back to rule #2 if you want to know why I didn't need the money).
The work has been interesting and the people great. I've been chatting with other authors, two who are currently working on their novels, and another who's launching his second this winter. We're everywhere, chilling in the shadows, waiting for our big break so we can quit the day job.
The gig ends in three days and then it's back to full-time writing (some of you may have heard a sigh of jubilation). Since I only had an hour here or an hour there to write, I'm at the point where I'm desperate to get back to it. The job not only provided me with more money to spend less time in advertising, but it reinvigorated my desire to finish this draft. There's something to be said about having the thing you love being removed from your daily routine. I want it back!
And I'm gonna love it and hug it and pet it and squeeze it.
Freelancing has been a wonderful tool as I navigate through this current chapter of life -- the one about becoming a full-time author. Advertising has been the bane of my existence and the blessing. I don't love the industry, and often question the moral and ethical aspects of it, but I've been doing it a long time and do my job pretty well -- and there is always work. This last opportunity came up when I was in the middle of my first draft for the third book. At first I wasn't going to take the gig because I've been struggling with my writing (third person is a challenge for me), but seeing the dollar sign got the wheels spinning. Money does have a sorta magical zing to it, doesn't it?
Here's my mantra with regards to money and cultivating my creative life: 1) The more money I make, the less time I spend in advertising and 2) The less money I spend, the less time I spend in advertising.
The common denomenator?
Pretty obvious, huh?
Spending less time in advertising.
So I took the gig because I wanted the money -- I didn't need the money, which is a blessing in itself (go back to rule #2 if you want to know why I didn't need the money).
The work has been interesting and the people great. I've been chatting with other authors, two who are currently working on their novels, and another who's launching his second this winter. We're everywhere, chilling in the shadows, waiting for our big break so we can quit the day job.
The gig ends in three days and then it's back to full-time writing (some of you may have heard a sigh of jubilation). Since I only had an hour here or an hour there to write, I'm at the point where I'm desperate to get back to it. The job not only provided me with more money to spend less time in advertising, but it reinvigorated my desire to finish this draft. There's something to be said about having the thing you love being removed from your daily routine. I want it back!
And I'm gonna love it and hug it and pet it and squeeze it.
Published on July 27, 2014 17:17
•
Tags:
my-writing-life, writing-inspiration
An open book
Is it possible to have postpartum depression if you've never given birth?
Since I launched my last book, I've been feeling a lot like what the Mayo clinic says happens to some women after giving birth: "a jumble of powerful emotions, from excitement and joy to fear and anxiety. But it can also result in something you might not expect — depression."
Hand raised! Yes. Yes, that's me. Only I didn't have a baby. I had a book. I should be celebrating, right? I guess some people do. I tried, but a wall of depression got in the way. (Mothers: I'm not saying writing and publishing a book is anything close to making and birthing a baby, I'm just saying I relate to the symptoms of postpartum depression, except for the joyful part and breastfeeding.)
These last few weeks have been like trying to walk up a rocky crag without any shoes, alone in the rain, with a four-hundred pound backpack. Maybe that's a bit dramatic. Okay, the backpack is fifty pounds. At the bottom of this sadness is the fact that reality isn't matching my expectations. Also, the radio silence from friends has been slightly discouraging (seriously, if you ever want people to avoid you like the plague -- publish some books). But underneath the superficial junk is the glaring fear that I'm not good enough. Good enough for what? Still trying to figure that one out.
Many authors/artists/musicians go through similar feelings after releasing work into the world. Months of being alone in your head, hunched over the laptop and listening to people who aren't really there can seem like a form of madness, and when you finally come up for air to share your precious work with the world, it's freaking scary and weird. And it's worse when the reception doesn't look like Carrie Bradshaw's. Maybe I need me a Samantha?
The last couple of days have been better. I'm not hitting the refresh button on my sales page six hundred times, and I've stopped checking for new reviews. It's time to take the needle off the record and chill out. Anything worth something takes time. If I could buy a virtue it'd be patience.
Writing about this stuff might seem weak, but I've found (like my tagline says) that when I expose my demons they lose their power over me and I can live again.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
Since I launched my last book, I've been feeling a lot like what the Mayo clinic says happens to some women after giving birth: "a jumble of powerful emotions, from excitement and joy to fear and anxiety. But it can also result in something you might not expect — depression."
Hand raised! Yes. Yes, that's me. Only I didn't have a baby. I had a book. I should be celebrating, right? I guess some people do. I tried, but a wall of depression got in the way. (Mothers: I'm not saying writing and publishing a book is anything close to making and birthing a baby, I'm just saying I relate to the symptoms of postpartum depression, except for the joyful part and breastfeeding.)
These last few weeks have been like trying to walk up a rocky crag without any shoes, alone in the rain, with a four-hundred pound backpack. Maybe that's a bit dramatic. Okay, the backpack is fifty pounds. At the bottom of this sadness is the fact that reality isn't matching my expectations. Also, the radio silence from friends has been slightly discouraging (seriously, if you ever want people to avoid you like the plague -- publish some books). But underneath the superficial junk is the glaring fear that I'm not good enough. Good enough for what? Still trying to figure that one out.
Many authors/artists/musicians go through similar feelings after releasing work into the world. Months of being alone in your head, hunched over the laptop and listening to people who aren't really there can seem like a form of madness, and when you finally come up for air to share your precious work with the world, it's freaking scary and weird. And it's worse when the reception doesn't look like Carrie Bradshaw's. Maybe I need me a Samantha?
The last couple of days have been better. I'm not hitting the refresh button on my sales page six hundred times, and I've stopped checking for new reviews. It's time to take the needle off the record and chill out. Anything worth something takes time. If I could buy a virtue it'd be patience.
Writing about this stuff might seem weak, but I've found (like my tagline says) that when I expose my demons they lose their power over me and I can live again.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
Published on December 11, 2014 18:14
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Tags:
my-writing-life, personal-thoughts-on-writing, publishing
Words are eternal
I haven't posted in a while because I've been too dark. I decided to drive up to Ojai — my favorite place on earth — to get right with myself, and God. There's something magical up here in these mountains.
I just read a post from one of my favorite authors, Hugh Howey, regarding the self-publishing industry. I was so inspired by his words that I had to write a new post. He's the reason I decided to stop torturing myself with trying to publish the traditional route.
A few years ago, I had been shopping around my memoir (the one that died a horrible death). I had just received my fiftieth "thanks, but no thanks" and I felt like giving up. Instead, I put the memoir down and picked up my fiction manuscript I had started a while back. A little scrappy thing called The City Center. While I was at a writer's conference I had spoken to an agent and she liked the first ten pages, but asked me why there were people living inside the city center and I didn't know. Yikes. So I started brainstorming ideas and rewriting my manuscript, but I just couldn't come up with a solid reason about why they were inside the damn center.
Until one day in church, I heard the answer. It came to me like a bolt of lightning. I scribbled it down on a piece of paper and from that point I was able to finish my manuscript. Once it was in a good place, I started drafting my query letter. Yes, I was going to start querying agents again. Surely I'd have better luck. This book wasn't about my depressing alcoholic life. It was a dystopian sci-fi in the same vein as The Hunger Games. It'd be a hit! But when I started writing the query letter I got sick to my stomach. I just couldn't — no matter how hard I tried — come up with a reason to put myself through that torture again.
That's when I started reading Hugh Howey's story about his self-publishing journey and I thought maybe I could take that route. I had already self-published a couple of humor books and a book of essays, and though they were more personal and not marketed, I knew I had it in me to give it a shot. Only I wanted to take a more professional approach. I realized if I wanted to have any inkling of success, it'd be like running my own business. I voraciously studied the self-publishing industry and marketing. When I finally felt like I kinda sorta maybe knew what I was doing, I published The City Center.
Two years later, I have three published works and all three have hit Amazon's bestseller list in their category many times. I still haven't hit my childhood dream of making the NY Times bestseller list and I'm not making a living from my royalties (yet), but the fact that I have published works floating around in the world — and that readers enjoy them — is the greatest joy of my life (I just wrote this to Hugh Howey). I’ve been writing since I was a little girl. I started blogging in 2006 and wrote to a tiny audience. And I still do. But that doesn’t matter. Sometimes I get caught up in the world and read too many articles about building my platform, or how to reach a wider audience, or how to be the best friggin’ marketing genius ever in the entire world. And after I spin around in the cycle for a day or two, I dry off and get back to what really matters: writing. God gave me a desire to write. I’m going to fulfill that every single day of my life. Regardless if anyone is reading, buying or talking about my work. Success comes and goes, but words are eternal.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
I just read a post from one of my favorite authors, Hugh Howey, regarding the self-publishing industry. I was so inspired by his words that I had to write a new post. He's the reason I decided to stop torturing myself with trying to publish the traditional route.
A few years ago, I had been shopping around my memoir (the one that died a horrible death). I had just received my fiftieth "thanks, but no thanks" and I felt like giving up. Instead, I put the memoir down and picked up my fiction manuscript I had started a while back. A little scrappy thing called The City Center. While I was at a writer's conference I had spoken to an agent and she liked the first ten pages, but asked me why there were people living inside the city center and I didn't know. Yikes. So I started brainstorming ideas and rewriting my manuscript, but I just couldn't come up with a solid reason about why they were inside the damn center.
Until one day in church, I heard the answer. It came to me like a bolt of lightning. I scribbled it down on a piece of paper and from that point I was able to finish my manuscript. Once it was in a good place, I started drafting my query letter. Yes, I was going to start querying agents again. Surely I'd have better luck. This book wasn't about my depressing alcoholic life. It was a dystopian sci-fi in the same vein as The Hunger Games. It'd be a hit! But when I started writing the query letter I got sick to my stomach. I just couldn't — no matter how hard I tried — come up with a reason to put myself through that torture again.
That's when I started reading Hugh Howey's story about his self-publishing journey and I thought maybe I could take that route. I had already self-published a couple of humor books and a book of essays, and though they were more personal and not marketed, I knew I had it in me to give it a shot. Only I wanted to take a more professional approach. I realized if I wanted to have any inkling of success, it'd be like running my own business. I voraciously studied the self-publishing industry and marketing. When I finally felt like I kinda sorta maybe knew what I was doing, I published The City Center.
Two years later, I have three published works and all three have hit Amazon's bestseller list in their category many times. I still haven't hit my childhood dream of making the NY Times bestseller list and I'm not making a living from my royalties (yet), but the fact that I have published works floating around in the world — and that readers enjoy them — is the greatest joy of my life (I just wrote this to Hugh Howey). I’ve been writing since I was a little girl. I started blogging in 2006 and wrote to a tiny audience. And I still do. But that doesn’t matter. Sometimes I get caught up in the world and read too many articles about building my platform, or how to reach a wider audience, or how to be the best friggin’ marketing genius ever in the entire world. And after I spin around in the cycle for a day or two, I dry off and get back to what really matters: writing. God gave me a desire to write. I’m going to fulfill that every single day of my life. Regardless if anyone is reading, buying or talking about my work. Success comes and goes, but words are eternal.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
Published on January 14, 2015 11:28
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Tags:
hugh-howey, my-writing-life, personal-thoughts-on-writing, self-publishing