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Writing from the Boonies
When my first book was accepted for publication, I bored all my friends in Williams Lake with my incessant talking about its progress.
"Look at what that editor did! Here's the cover, isn't it great? The proofs have arrived!";
It wasn't until the book was in print and thrust into my friends' reluctant hands that I realized that, except for a kind librarian and a supportive bookstore owner, no one in my town knew or cared a hoot about writing and publishing.
We had a well established Art Society, a flourishing pottery club, The Woman's Institute and a dozen churches, but there was no group for writers. So I stopped talking about my writing and went back to work at a 'real' job where the after-work blithering wasn't literary, but the companionship was great.
When my second book came out, I joined the Writers' Union of Canada and registered for the AGM-three days of meetings, workshops, socializing, dancing, listening to other authors and a windup barbecue at Pierre Berton's home. I intend my fellow Puddlers no disrespect when I say that once I mentioned that I was going to Pierre Berton's house, I finally became a writer in their eyes.
"Pierre, eh? I've seen him on TV. Say 'hi' for me, will you?";
Then people started asking me questions (after they'd inquired about Pierre's state of health), including one of the toughest questions for a writer to answer: "So, when's your next book going to be ready?"; That was when I stopped talking about my current writing project. People didn't really want to know about the rejections, the delays, the rewrites, the lengthy process from idea to book. They mostly just wanted to know about Pierre Berton.
Just as I didn't understand much about ranching or forestry: my neighbours didn't understand much about my new writing world.
In those days, we had no Internet or e-mail. So at the Writers' Union AGM it was a relief to find people talking about rejections at breakfast, movie rights at lunch, and swapping stories of editors from hell during dinner. I still try to attend the AGM every year. Those yearly meetings and contacts with friends I met there have kept me going through the lonely dark winters of my early career.
I admit I am sometimes jealous of the busy schedule of the children's writers in Vancouver who have easy access to meetings, socializing and can participate in literary events such as WOTS and the International Writers' Festival, but if I can't get to those meetings and events, at least now I can 'talk' to other writers on-line. Sometimes I even behave like the senior writer I am and offer advice!
Writing from the boonies, I've learned there are other writers near you, but they may still be in the closet, so you have to make an effort to do the things other writers do, even if it means buying a plane ticket or driving 500 km to go to a meeting or a conference.
Or you can form your own writers' group. A good writers' group is a thing of wonder where ideas flourish. My writing group keeps me focused on the fact that I am a writer, that writers write and so, in the words of my first mentor, Robin Skelton, I should stop whining and 'get on with it.'-Ann Walsh
[BCBW 2007] "Essay"
"Look at what that editor did! Here's the cover, isn't it great? The proofs have arrived!";
It wasn't until the book was in print and thrust into my friends' reluctant hands that I realized that, except for a kind librarian and a supportive bookstore owner, no one in my town knew or cared a hoot about writing and publishing.
We had a well established Art Society, a flourishing pottery club, The Woman's Institute and a dozen churches, but there was no group for writers. So I stopped talking about my writing and went back to work at a 'real' job where the after-work blithering wasn't literary, but the companionship was great.
When my second book came out, I joined the Writers' Union of Canada and registered for the AGM-three days of meetings, workshops, socializing, dancing, listening to other authors and a windup barbecue at Pierre Berton's home. I intend my fellow Puddlers no disrespect when I say that once I mentioned that I was going to Pierre Berton's house, I finally became a writer in their eyes.
"Pierre, eh? I've seen him on TV. Say 'hi' for me, will you?";
Then people started asking me questions (after they'd inquired about Pierre's state of health), including one of the toughest questions for a writer to answer: "So, when's your next book going to be ready?"; That was when I stopped talking about my current writing project. People didn't really want to know about the rejections, the delays, the rewrites, the lengthy process from idea to book. They mostly just wanted to know about Pierre Berton.
Just as I didn't understand much about ranching or forestry: my neighbours didn't understand much about my new writing world.
In those days, we had no Internet or e-mail. So at the Writers' Union AGM it was a relief to find people talking about rejections at breakfast, movie rights at lunch, and swapping stories of editors from hell during dinner. I still try to attend the AGM every year. Those yearly meetings and contacts with friends I met there have kept me going through the lonely dark winters of my early career.
I admit I am sometimes jealous of the busy schedule of the children's writers in Vancouver who have easy access to meetings, socializing and can participate in literary events such as WOTS and the International Writers' Festival, but if I can't get to those meetings and events, at least now I can 'talk' to other writers on-line. Sometimes I even behave like the senior writer I am and offer advice!
Writing from the boonies, I've learned there are other writers near you, but they may still be in the closet, so you have to make an effort to do the things other writers do, even if it means buying a plane ticket or driving 500 km to go to a meeting or a conference.
Or you can form your own writers' group. A good writers' group is a thing of wonder where ideas flourish. My writing group keeps me focused on the fact that I am a writer, that writers write and so, in the words of my first mentor, Robin Skelton, I should stop whining and 'get on with it.'-Ann Walsh
[BCBW 2007] "Essay"
Submitted on October 10, 2007 in By David.
