The Platform Conundrum

4 Responses »
Sep 082010

Dear Future Agent,

I have a secret to share. It may shock you.

Then again, probably not.

See…(and this is kind of embarrassing to admit)…but (deep breath) I. Am. Not. Famous.

I’ll give you a minute to digest that little piece of information. Because really, the Holy Crap factor was probably enough to knock the wind out of you. You know, while you laughed at me. So I understand if you need to compose yourself.

Right now, dear Future Agent, you are probably asking yourself why you should give a damn about me and my Regular Peeples status. Or not. After all, we haven’t been formally introduced yet. Or perhaps we have and I just haven’t quite convinced you yet. So in reality, you are probably busy cycling through your inbox while fending off off over-zealous writers with good intentions and big dreams who may have sent you cookies instead of a properly formatted query letter, wishing it was five o’clock so you can get home and pop the cork on a bottle of wine, skip the glass, and stick a bendy straw in there. You know, after you have served the kids dinner. (I’m going out on a limb here and guessing you will be a mom. And if you are doing that bendy straw thing, we are soooo a match made in heaven.)

But back to the me Not Being Famous and why you should care thing. You see, before I find you I have to be told to keep looking by others. “This is a subjective business…” “Other agents opinions may differ…” “What doesn’t work for me may be perfect for another agent…” Oh wait. It’s been three weeks and two days. Which means I can cross too more off my list. I know my query is solid (maybe). I know my writing has promise (right?). I know I will not be a word-diva when it comes to revisions (which I think is major bonus points, yes?) I could focus on the fact that I just got turned down again or I can remind myself that these two passive rejections are playing their karmic roles in getting me closer to the day I find you. But instead, I think I’ll focus on the fact that my (solid) query is missing something. That my (promising) writing isn’t even going to come into play for many of the agents who shall come before you because of that pesky little platform thing. And seeing as I don’t really have one to stand on, why ask for more if I don’t have enough to get me past Go to collect my Monopoly money?

You already know, dear Future Agent, that Non-fiction and Strong Platforms go hand in hand. That there is plenty of rhyme and reason for the current system. I get it, too. But I have to admit that the whole situation kind of has me in a pickle similar to the Gotta Have Credit to Get Credit situation I found myself in when I was young and stupid enough to jump on the first credit card offer that got me a free T-shirt on my college campus; I’m not famous enough to garner the attention of many agents looking for famous enough people to garner the attention of publishers looking for people famous enough to sell books. So they have (and will continue to) take a pass on me. No matter what they may think of my writing or my claims that my old job, this blog, and my twitter addiction could be considered a platform.

And that’s okay. It sucks. But it’s okay.

Because one day, you will take a chance on me. And I’ll do that little happy dance every writer does when their own future finally slows down enough for them to grab hold. And then I can dream bigger and work harder (while trying to remedy that Not Being Famous thing while taking breaks from that working and writing thing, of course.) Until then, I’ll continue to nurse my bruised ego, marvel at the fact that the girl who was so unsure of herself has grown into the woman who is sure enough to continue this soul-crushing exercise as long as it takes, and wait.

I may not be famous (enough) yet, but I’m stubborn as hell. Which means I’m not going to let my cute little platform (or lack thereof) get in my way.

Sincerely,

Me

New (Query) Truths

1 Response »
Jul 302010

Hit send. Hit send. Hit send.

It’s the twitter mantra of the brave who have made it to the land of The End on their respective projects. There’s plenty of talk of nerves and sweaty palms and hyperventilation and total and absolute fear. I’ve heard it can be paralyzing, that fear. I’ve even seen ongoing twitter conversations in which one writer would be cheered on by a cast of supportive friends until they finally ignored the nerves just long enough to HIT SEND.

And then the twittersphere erupts in silent cheers and exclamation points of happiness.

So I was a little surprised when I realized how easy it actually is to Hit Send. I haven’t had one nerve go haywire or had to wipe a sweaty brow. I’ve just, quite simply, hit send. And it isn’t until the response appears in the inbox that the nerves hit, the palms get sweaty, and the hyperventilating begins because it is at that very moment that I have lost all control over what will come to be.

Hitting Send doesn’t scare me. But I’ll be honest. There are plenty of nerves, two very sweaty palms, and some slight hyperventilating going on as I click the email open to see what’s in store.

Hiding on the Internet

8 Responses »
May 142010

So I’m on the computer, procrastinating as usual before I do my actual writing when I come across a Blog Frog discussion that got me thinking.

Heather from SITS (The Secret is in the Sauce) asked who regretted sharing their blog with family and I chimed in saying that I have no regrets because they don’t know…yet.

Here’s the deal: If I get a book deal, the cat’s out of the bag. I refer to the blog a few times and admit that I have selected a few of my favorite posts, which are already included in the manuscript. To me, the book and the blog are linked because they are both extensions of myself. That being said, there is a lot of shit I wouldn’t be blogging about right now if I knew my mother-in-law or Tia or Madrina were sitting down to read.

Like the word shit. Or my favorite potty mouth tag for when I say things like fuck.

And yes, both words are perfectly peppered throughout my manuscript for just the right amount of seasoning.

Which takes me back to why I’ve kept the book and the blog a secret from my family and yet shared it with the world.

  • You don’t know me. So judge away. Point and laugh when I say something stupid or grimace when I talk about my weight. Either way, it’s all good and we can still respect each other in the morning.
  • They do know me. Which means that if I had started this blog, or the book, knowing that Aunt Bonnie or Tia Elvia were going to be peaking over my shoulder to see how things were going, I would never have had the chance to get comfortable with my own voice. I would have automatically censored myself like I do at family functions. And that really would have made for voiceless writing.
  • By  the time La Familia gets wind of the book and the blog, I won’t care. (Ok, so maybe I will, un poquito) I can make a big announcement warning them all that I say bad things on my blog and in my book and they’ve been warned so don’t read it and bitch ‘cuz it’s not gonna change. And then they can peek and bitch and I can remind them I warned them and then they’ll grumble and say things like “aye, Míja”and then we can all move on.

So really, it should all work out in the end.

And side note? This is me thanking the publishing industry for creating such a long and drawn out process for getting a book on the shelf at Borders or Barnes & Noble. And my muse, for drawing the process out even longer. Because really? The longer I have to prepare for the Mexican mess that’s gonna come with La Familia learning I say fuck in public is not gonna be pretty.

So no, Heather. I don’t regret anything.

Yet.

Short story (much) longer

14 Responses »
May 032010

IMG00058-20100501-2233

I wasn’t going to go. There really wasn’t a point, after all. I mean, I don’t do reviews. I don’t really have time to make IRL friends out of the people I already talk to online. And my spare time should be dedicated to that getting famous/book deal thing I’m kinda invested in, so do I really need to be spending a weekend with a bunch of women I probably have nothing in common with in the name of networking and social media at something with a cutesy name like Bloggy Boot Camp?

looney tunes bloggy boot camp

Answer: You bet your ass.

Here’s the deal: When you have familiar avatars and scary-impressive numbers attached to every tweet your send out, it’s bound to intimate the little fish in the pond who might wonder if responding to something your super-famous-self said or if you are even going to see the comment from not-so-famous us. So we follow. We lurk. We type and delete and then figure we’ll try again later when our numbers get just a bit bigger.

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But those avatars are tricky little fuckers. They’re teeny. They can be grainy. They might not look so much like the In Real Life you. And that’s when people like me walk up to people like you and forget about the numbers and the followers and the influence and just smile and say “hello” and tell people like Loralee that her purse kicks absolute ass before realizing who I was talking to.

Because it’s that easy.

katja presnal bloggy bootcamp

And that hug Tiffany said she wanted before bloggy boot camp? Ya know…the one she sent me a tweet about? Yeah, she remembered!

And ya wanna know what happened when I opened my mouth? (Aside from making an ass of myself when I heard Katja speak and realized it wasn’t just a cute red head at my table but Katja herself, that is. Because that’s when I turned back to Theresa and loud enough for Katja to hear and said, “OMG. I just realized who I was sitting next to! She’s Katja!” Which I’m sure is a moment Sugar Jones can relate to. Ask her about Patrick Duffy if you weren’t at Bloggy Boot Camp.)

I connected with people. I laughed with them. I learned I wasn’t the only mom-writer there who thought it was going to be a waste of time and left totally high on renewed energy and lots of new dreams.

bloggy boot camp

Then there was meeting Carolyn McCray for dinner on Saturday after the conference and before the cocktail party and showed up with my heart in my throat while trying to not sound like I had no clue what I was talking about with her, Dee Dee and Piper Heiney.  I’m thinking I survived, but I may need that vodka Dee Dee provided in her little swag bag to get over any glitches in my portion of the conversation that now make me do some face-palm action.

I was only there because Dr. Lynne  Kenney thought it might be a great idea to give it a try and I reluctantly signed up. (And I can’t thank her enough for making me try something new.)

bloggy boot camp

I may have been the picture of confidence but I’ll tell ya a secret. I freaked before I got there. Becca, Melanie, Michelle, Chelsea, and Shey were okay with the fact that I packed a week’s worth of clothes so I could have choices and blend when I got to the Xona Resort, which was nice because I seriously looked like an asshole next to the people flying in from other states with those adorable little over-nighter suitcases. (Note to self: I will not be repeating this mistake next year.)

(Okay, that was a total lie.)

bloggy boot camp

I may not give a damn about SEO (mainly because thinking about it makes my head hurt) or have plans for monetizing the blog. But I did learn to keep an open mind when entering into each and every new situation. Because as I listened to authors who blog talk about making their dreams a reality and to presentations on vlogging and branding yourself, I realized I fit right in with every other mom blogger in the room with me as we work on leaving our marks in the world with our words and figure out how to stay sane while doing it.

bloggy boot camp

I'd like to thank the academy (again)

No Responses »
Apr 202010

This post originally appeared on www.bookieboo.com.

bookieboomemberWhat an exciting evening! I just logged on to write my weekly post and all logical thoughts flew out the window when I saw my photo on the left side and the word “editor” staring right back at me! Thank you, Leah, for this fantastic opportunity!
So should I, like, make a speech or something? You’re supposed to make speeches when things like this happen, right? Okay. Gimme a second here to think…
Ready?

“Um, *tapping mike*, “Is this thing on? I’d like to thank this opportunity to thank Bookieboo, for believing in me and my ability to inspire other moms getting started on their quest to healthier habits even though my bum is still (almost) as big as it was a year ago. You have no idea how much this means to me. And my platform as a wanna-be-author. But really, Leah? It’s an honor to be a part of such a fabulous site. This is what support is all about.
I’d also like to thank The Husband. If it wasn’t for his support, and his job, I wouldn’t even have a computer, Internet, or a gym membership secured with the sole intention of kicking my own ass into shape. There’s also the Bodybugg I stopped using, the dietitian I finally hired, and the spendage required for sports bras to keep my DD’s from knocking me out cold whilst doing the Zumba classes. I love you, Sweetie.
Mom? I can’t forget you! And Buttercup? You are not going to understand why you wanting to play with Mama’s tummy pudge as you fall asleep (much like one would gently massage a stress ball at work) is not on my List of Favorite Things in the World, for a very long time. I love you, and don’t tell anyone I ever said this, but every pound I gained carrying you and haven’t been able to lose since? Yeah, baby, every single one of those pounds and every single stretch mark was worth it.
And of course, I can’t forget The Academy (aka Bookieboo members!) This entire community is an incredible source of support for any mother who reaches out asking for it. You ladies rock!”

There. That was my speech. And before I take my bow, I’d like to leave you with the one thought that took me almost a year to embrace: No matter what the scale says, you are a success every day you keep trying.

So keep at it, ladies. I know I’m going to.

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