The best gift I ever received as a writer: family support. Also an update from the query trenches and some fresh memes.

Nicknamed “Tule fog” after the tule reeds that grow in the damp foothills, the fog is expected to carry into this weekend.

So you wrote a book. Now what? For many people, the vicissitudes of the publishing industry make traditional publishing unappealing, not to mention improbable. So you’ve decided to self-publish! Ex…

I love books about the writing life. In fact, they are one of my favorite ways to procrastinate from living the writing life (by, you know, actually writing). I want to know every famous writer’s writing routine, favorite beverage while writing, where they wrote, what they wrote with, even the name of the human/animal/epic tragedy that inspired them to write. Writing is a vocation that inspires awe. We like to imagine that it involves some kind of magic (and really, I’m half convinced Stephen King’s works are actually written by a sentient Ouija Board, because he’s clearly channeling something). So let’s talk about the writing life, or at least my writing life (please share yours in the comments, and if you have a sentient Ouija Board, may I borrow it? Pretty please?) But first: This post is part of the Insecure Writers Support Group (IWSG) blog hop. On the first Wednesday of every month, we IWSG-ers share our doubts, fears, struggles, and triumphs. Our awesome co-hosts this month are  Jennifer Lane, Jenni Enzor, Renee Scattergood, Rebecca Douglass, Lynn Bradshaw, and Melissa Maygrove. Each month our fearless leader (Ninja Captain Alex J. Cavanaugh) gives us an optional question to answer. This month’s question is, When you began writing, what did you imagine your life as a writer would be like? Were you right, or has this experience presented you with some surprises along the way? My So-Called Writing Life: In the Beginning Back in 2019, about 5 years into My So-Called Writing Life, I wrote about my fantasy writer life vs. the (spoiler alert!) much less impressive reality. That post is called Living the Dream, and it might give you a chuckle. As for how I really imagined life as a writer back when I first started: I’m not sure. I don’t think I imagined it at all. I just… started. (The story of why I started is in my first-ever IWSG post, Talent is Overrated.) A little ways in, though, I developed a near-daily writing practice, read everything I could get my grubby fingers on about writing fiction, joined a writing group, and began to make real progress. Look at me, living my dream! Look at me, writing everyday just like Uncle Stevie and his sentient Ouija Board told me to! Look at my self-discipline and commitment to my craft! Day after week after month after year. Writing every day, blogging every week, finishing a novel, starting another novel, writing and publishing short stories. I was doing it, baby! How’s that saying go? Oh, yeah: Pride goeth before a fall. My So-Called Writing Life Episode 2: Reality Bites The fall came in 2023 in the form of: burnout. So much burnout. Also disillusionment. Querying my first novel didn’t go well, I was stalled out on revising my second novel, and I started to wonder: what’s the point? Why am I giving up my mornings and weekends to an activity that is exhausting and frustrating? I kept going, but my motivation was on life support. Then came 2024. I was going to finish the Revision from Hell. I was going to self-publish my first novel if I couldn’t find an agent. I was going to get my lifelong dream back on track, baby! Then I got sick. Then I took a new executive-level job, packed up my life, and moved back to my home state of California–and didn’t write for the rest of the year except for IWSG posts. Now 2025 is almost over. I’ve been learning how to manage a demanding job, a chronic illness, and the rest of my life, including writing. I’m trying to rebuild my routines in a more sustainable way, and my enthusiasm and joy are returning. I’m querying my first novel again, this time with some significant improvements to the book, and I’ve even gotten a partial request. I’m still working on the Revision from Hell, and I’ve made slow but substantial progress. I’m moving forward. So, to come back to this month’s question: I imagined my life as a writer would be one of steady forward motion, just like the productivity gurus promise. Burnout and writer’s block were for lesser mortals. My surprise was learning that I am actually a lesser mortal and am not, in fact, invincible. I have been humbled, but I’m still soldiering on. Writing update Querying Much of my focus since September has been querying my time travel romance/romantic suspense mashup, Vanishing, Inc. Here are my query stats so far (including an early attempt in 2021): My plan is to query agents through mid-January, then a few small presses. If at that point I still have no good prospects, I will start the process of self-publishing. I believe in my story, and I think at least a few other people will like it. I don’t care that much about money; I just want it to be read. Fresno LitHop I made a rare public appearance last month, reading from my short story, “Walk Me Home,” at Fresno LitHop. (I wrote about this story in last month’s IWSG post, along with the terrifying real-life event that inspired it.) Note: my public appearances are rare, not because I’m a mysterious recluse but because I am a nobody. Anyway, here’s me at Mi Cafesito in Fresno, reading from “Walk Me Home”: Yes, I do have a bad case of RBF (Resting Bitch Face) – why do you ask? Special shout out to Marsha Ingrao at Always Write, who drove up from Visalia for my reading. Marsha and I have been blogging friends for years but had never met in person. I wish we’d gotten a picture together. Thanks, Marsha, for supporting me! The memery I wasted a bunch of time on Reddit a couple of weeks ago and harvested tons of memes from the r/meirl subreddit. My loss of time is your gain of laughs. Today’s theme: Me in real life, just like the subreddit says. Here we go: After decades of caregiving, I am now allergic to responsibility. I’ve gone so far off the deep end, sanity is a distant memory. And finally, anyone with the misfortune to be at my local Planet Fitness yesterday can attest to this one: That’s it for me this month. Drop a comment and tell me about your writing life. Or your life in general. It’s bound to be more interesting than mine. May your perseverance always be stronger than your insecurity (or may you find a sentient Ouija Board. Whatever it takes to get the job done.)

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