Showing posts with label stalking Nora Roberts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stalking Nora Roberts. Show all posts

Thursday, September 19, 2013

My Writing Space

This is the first in a new series called My Writing Space.

(You can find all the posts by clicking on the My Writing Space link in the "Popular Calamity Jane Series" box to the right)

I’m hoping it will become a collection of pictures/descriptions of the places (desks, offices, coffee houses, airports, coffins, whatever) where different writers get work done. Where the magic occurs.

Where the sobbing and banging of the head against the wall happen too.

Spatial organization – oh, let’s face it: ANY type of personal organization – is appealing to me. I believe heavily in efficiency and love to hear about new tools or ways people have found to organize their time, space, lives. Writing or any other part. Yeah, it’s a little geeky. But hey, I’m a geek, no big secret there.

So I have some writer friends lined up to participate in upcoming weeks; to share about their writing spaces, tools, habits and anything else that may apply. Both my published and unpublished writing peeps, because they’re all awesome.

I’m going to try to see if I can get Nora Roberts to send me a picture of her writing space – but since she probably has a restraining order out against me from the whole RWA incident, that probably won’t happen.  Alas…

But this week, to kick it off, I thought I would start with my personal writing space.

First, let’s be clear, if I was Nora Roberts, and had sold 400 million (no kidding) copies of my books and had my own personal stalker, this would be my writing space/cabin:


Because, right? Seriously awesome.  Plus the walls come up if you need to get rid of your stalker. Helpful feature.

I didn’t have a real writing space at all until this summer. Before then, I wrote wherever: at the kitchen table, at Starbucks, but mostly on my couch with a little plastic TV tray holding my laptop. But once my back and neck started giving me problems from multiple hours of slumped-over “grandma sitting” as my hubby called it, we decided to get me a desk.

After consulting Craig’s List, this is what we came up with – a sweet, little writing desk.


We decided to put it downstairs in the corner of our living room. Our thinking was: I would be sort of out of the way, but not so far gone that our four kids would burn down the house. Plus, putting it there enabled me to meet my pathological need to have the wall at my back in order to get anything done. (Maybe my next series should be: “All the Ways Janie is Crazy”)

I also have a bulletin board and whiteboard (both which can be slid behind my entertainment center that is right next to my desk), a lamp, and a couple of motivational posters, which basically say this (but not as pretty):




My writing space is definitely still a work in process. I know I still need:

1) A better chair. The folding one I have now is terrible (it's not the one in the picture).
2) Some sort of electrical zapping device that shocks me if I start looking at Facebook or Pinterest or any other social media when I should be writing
3) A conveyer belt that will take my coffee mug over to the kitchen and refill it.

I guess nothing’s perfect. But here’s the AWESOME thing I’ve found about having a dedicated writing space:  When I sit down at my desk to write, my brain gets all serious.

Because writing is the only thing I do when I’m at this desk, there’s a kind of muscle memory that happens when I sit down here. Everything just sort of clicks on.  A dedicated writing space hasn’t solved every writing issue I have, but it has certainly been a start. And I'm glad I have it.

You know, just until Nora Roberts and I go in on our writing cabin together.

I look forward to hearing about and sharing the writing space of other authors. Next week will be fellow debut Harlequin Intrigue author, and my buddy, Barb Han. If you’re a writer and got a space (great or otherwise) you're willing to share, let me know and I’ll get you scheduled on here too.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Cinderella At the Ball - My First RWA Conference Experience

Last week I attended the Romance Writers of America annual convention. I hadn’t planned to go. But when three weeks before the conference  I suddenly found myself with a publisher who wanted to wine & dine me while there, I decided I was awesome  to attend.


A well-attended Harlequin workshop
Hey, especially since it was in Atlanta, my old high school stomping grounds.  Plus, my parental units are in Georgia = free babysitting.

There were about 2500 people (I’ll admit, mostly women) in attendance. The different types of romance writers present ran the absolute gamut: from sweet, inspirational romances to the type of stuff I cannot even think about without blushing.

We came together to celebrate and learn and meet and commiserate.  And I must say, it was wonderful.

Here was a group of women who understood almost every issue I have that involves writing. Joys such as: writing while children are screaming for dinner, the challenges of your “writing space” being the living room couch, and writing a sex scene when you know your mom is going to read it.

Everybody understood my problems and I understood theirs. I walked into a sisterhood I never knew I needed. But I know now.

My SOLD! Ribbon

It was my first RWA conference, although I didn’t wear the little
ribbon they gave me for my name tag that said so (btw, I don't wear a
t-shirt saying “I’m a tourist!!!” when I go to a new city either). But I did proudly sport my SOLD! ribbon indicating that I had sold my first book.

I was able to attend workshops about Surviving You First Book Deal, Boosting Energy & Beating Stress (more vegetables? Gross), Developing an Online Presence (wait, you want me to use social media MORE than I do now? Is that possible?), and Ergonomics for Writers (You mean sitting hunched over a computer for twelve hours in a row is not good for me?).

Plus there were workshops on self-publishing (which was, by far, the best attended workshops), pitches, plots, dialogue, research, serial killers, forensics, queries, steampunk and dozens of other topics. I didn’t make it to any of those, sadly.

Heather Long, Delores Fossen, Bab Han
Although the RWA convention itself was great, the really fabulous part for me was going there as Harlequin Author. I’ll never get tired of saying it… “Janie Crouch, author.”

Well, almost author. Soon. You know, in April 2014. But that little not-quite-published-yet detail didn’t matter to Harlequin. They brought me in like one of the family.

I got to go to parties and receptions and lunches and dinners, even a pajama party – all paid for by my publisher. Author-only stuff, like the famous (amongst writers) Harlequin soiree this year held at the Ritz Carlton.  I must admit, I felt important. Appreciated. Like Cinderella at the ball, except there were no pumpkins at midnight.

I was able to meet my delightful editor face-to-face and am looking forward to having a long and fruitful relationship with her. She’s tiny and fun. I'm sorry I don't have pictures us.


Nora Roberts& stalker on the dance floor
Plus, I got to see Nora Roberts (arguably the biggest name in contemporary romance) dancing to It’s Raining Men at the Harlequin Author party! I had to keep my distance due to an earlier... er,... stalking event, but we still did a "walk-by photo shoot". That woman can dance!

More importantly (yes, even more important than Nora Roberts dancing), I met the wonderful ladies of the Intrigue line. All of them highly successful authors, yet they still took me – someone they had never met and never read – and treated me like one of their own.  We laughed and sang and took crazy pictures and chatted for hours. They offered invaluable advice, and I’m thankful. I hope to be friends with these ladies for years to come.

Intrigue Authors - a true sisterhood
...or something. :-)
I left RWA counting my blessings: To have a book finished and new one in the works. To have a publishing contract. To have a husband and family who support me in all my neuroses.  And to have new friends who understand exactly where I am and where I'm trying to get. 

Cinderella at the ball, indeed. And no pumpkins in sight.