Saturday, March 30, 2013

Stop Number Three

Wow, stop number three on the Fat Chance book tour! Have you been following along? We still have over a week of stops to go on the tour and  I can't wait to see it all unfold!

The newest stop on the tour has the usual author spotlight/bio, but also features a review of the book.
You can find it over at Living In Your Own World, so go on and have a look. I promise it's worth your click ... I cried.

Curious now? Okay, go read it.
I'll wait here.

Back now?
What did you think?
I'd love to hear in the comments!

In the meantime, I'd really like to tell you what *I* think.
Because I've been thinking.

So far, I'm honestly still a little dazed. I like to think that things like this will never grow old to me, that I'll never truly get used to it. That I won't ever be jaded. And I intend to try as much as possible to sink into every new experience, to feel every bit of it and not let any of this dream-coming-true go to waste.

I've wanted to write since I was a child, growing up in a little house or apartment (we moved a bit) in a small town in Central Florida. The dream followed me into every drugstore (you know the paperback racks?), every bookstore, every library. Every computer I owned was a storage center for stories and poems, and when I didn't have one, I'd write the old way with paper and pen. (Well, if that doesn't sound aged ... "the old way!")

But you know that dream, that childhood dream. Every child has one, they each have some desire in their hearts and we encourage them even though we doubt they'll ever make it. We say, "Oh, sure honey, you're going to be the best rock star ever," or we smile down at little bouncing curls and we say, "That's right Sally, you will be President someday." But really, we don't mean it. We just think children are innocent, and no one wants to crush the innocence of a child (well, most of us don't, anyway). We can't bring ourselves to tell them that most of the time, a dream is just that, a dream, and that there isn't much chance of bringing a dream to life.

Then again ...

Every now and then, that happens. Every now and then, a little boy or girl who wants to be famous grows up to be famous. Every now and then, a child who wanted to be an astronaut really grows up and becomes an astronaut. Or a soldier/marine/airman/etc.

Sometimes, dreams can come true.

But what about a child who wants to be successful in the art field? A child who wants to be a sculptor, or a painter, a singer, or am actor?

Or a writer?

Those children have an entirely new destiny. They aren't just striving to make it in a field that requires adequate knowledge and expertise. They need something more. They need creativity, they need spunk, they need really thick skin. Why?

Because being an artist means you don't have a set rule of what's "good" and what's "bad." You have only the opinions of the public you're reaching out to, only the individual thoughts and feelings that meld together and create THE PUBLIC.

You're under review, every moment, every second, every day. Every move, and every opinion. As a writer, that means every word, from your facebook status to your twitter feed. And the reviews aren't always good. In the few short months I've been a published author, I've encountered good reviews and I've encountered bad. I've gotten things like:

"this is badly wrote"
(From a reviewer a while back, and may I say, that is one of my favorites to this day. Because the review was ... well, I like to think of it as "goodly wrote." If you know what I mean.)
"this isn't even worth copying"
(someone who apparently tried to right-click and copy one of my PicPrompts and couldn't because I've disabled that function. Because I won't make it easy for a THIEF to STEAL from me.)

But then there are the others, the good ones, the ones that encourage us as writers to keep typing when the words won't come, to keep thinking when the plot's all wrong, and chase a dream everyone might have deemed "impossible." There are the reviews that "get" the characters, who understand what the writer was saying, who relate and love an imperfect story with perfectly imperfect characters.

Those reviews? Those little "thank you's" from people who were touched by something I wrote, those people who take the time to tell me that my characters reached into their hearts and made an impact?

They touch me right back. They influence my next characters, my next stories. They inspire me to reach farther, to dig deeper, to try harder. They bring a little squeeze to my chest, they bring a smile to my face. They bring happy tears to my eyes.

And that? That's what keeps the stories coming.

So to anyone who has taken the time to thank me for telling them a story, let me just take a second to 

Thank You

for your support.
Thank you.

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