A writer's family life...
I've found that readers are curious over how a writer's life might vary from theirs. I thought it'd be fun to do a few blogs on just that. And because I'm such a family person, I wanted to start with...
Writers and their families.
Now understand, most of my comments aren't about the dh (dear husband) or my sons.
I have three sons, by the way. They're now 19, 21, and 25. And I'm a grandma. Of a grandson. Yeah, the male gene is strong in my family. Maybe that's why I often write from the male pov...
Anyway, the husband and sons are super supportive, encouraging and proud.
This is more about my whacky extended family.
How many times have I written something – a scene straight out of the family history – and a reader or reviewer will state (with utter conviction) that it could never happen that way.
No one would put up with that. (She hasn’t met me, apparently.)
No family could be so dysfunctional.
Seriously, has she ever talked to anyone!? All families are dysfunctional in some ways.
There’s always a crazy aunt or uncle tucked away, or an odd niece or nephew that no one mentions aloud.
It doesn’t bother me so much any more because it gives me more fodder for my stories.
My grandma used to say that if families were laundry hung out to dry and it started to rain, everyone would pull in their own laundry. I suppose in the hills that means we like our own familiar problems.
We’ve learned to deal with them.
To accept them.
It’s everyone else’s problems that seem so weird to us.
Maybe that’s what some reviewers or readers are missing when they criticize an unlikely character or plot point. That their problems - aka life experiences – aren’t the same as mine. They aren’t the same as yours. They aren’t the same as anyone’s, because we’re all unique.
Now, talking about unique...
Here are some awesome comments or observations from my own darling family members.
My mother, without ever reading a single one of my books, was fond of saying, “Some day you’re going to get raped on your doorstep.”
She never elaborated beyond that, and I never asked, and now she’s gone, so I guess I’ll never know what thought processes brought her to that prediction.
My stepfather (who raised me and is my “Dad”) wanted me to give up this nonsense of writing and try selling Mary Kay cosmetics instead. It really was a compliment from him, since he considered me well practiced enough in the make-up department to make a living at it.
Note: I should add that these days he’s all about me being a writer. At 82, he’s obsessed with trying to discover how much money I make, instead of convincing me to quit.
My real father, who I didn’t know until I was 18, wondered why I didn’t just get a ghost-writer to do some of my books so I could have more free time.
Hmmm. Do you think readers would notice if someone else wrote for me?
This is the same guy who insists he could write better love scenes, based on his personal experiences. (Isn’t that gross?)
And he also thinks I got published because (in his opinion, not mine) I’m cute.
Now seriously, isn’t that the main criteria that all publishers consider when buying a book?
One of my aunts usually wants to know when I’ll be on Oprah. She doesn’t understand why I don’t just "do it." Just go on the show and talk about my books. It’d be great promo, after all.
Anyone got Oprah's number?
My other aunt wants to know if I’ll ever write a novel.
Yeah, that’s exactly what she said.
I don’t know what it is I’ve been writing, but apparently, to her, they aren’t novels. Maybe she thinks they’re comic books.
Who knows?
My sis, who I love dearly, keeps telling people that I’m #1 on the New York Times.
God love her, she doesn’t understand that there is a HUGE difference between dangling loosely on to the lower end of the list, which is where I’ve been, and landing solidly in a key position. To her, it’s all the same old, same old.
But oh, to be in such a position! Don't I wish.
My other sister has made it clear that she’s not interested in hearing anything about my writing.
So I don’t mention it, and neither does she.
My brother listens with half an ear, and then often launches into a joke totally unrelated to anything I was saying. He’s a real comedian.
A brother-in-law and his wife, when told by my sister-in-law that I’d made that oh-so-exciting tail end of the NY Times, turned their backs without a single word and walked away.
Yeah, it was meant as a snub, and embarrassed my poor sister-in-law a lot.
Me, I’m used to that from them.
I hope I don’t sound bitter because I’m really not.
Not all of my relatives are insensitive or obtuse. This whole writing gig is a very strange thing to most people. Without saying it aloud, most of my family considers me the odd one, the niece (or aunt or sister or daughter) that no one talks about.
To them, I'm what makes our family dysfunctional.
You gotta love that!
Now, when the whole writing thing is mentioned, it's usually with a question.
The question I get asked most often is, “Where do you get your ideas.”
Which must mean that not everyone has a ton of stories in their heads, kicking around and demanding life.
I wonder how anyone sees the fighter with the swollen cauliflower ears, the crooked nose and the sparkling flash of determination in his eyes, and doesn’t rewrite him as a romantic figure.
Who could possibly have watched “Kiss the Girls” without imagining an Alpha boyfriend at odds with Morgan Freeman as he sets out to save the heroine?
Is it possible for someone to see a man carrying a child on his shoulders, or a woman struggling with her Great Dane, or a couple whispering close together, without plotting out a story to showcase that particular scene?
My family certainly doesn’t. I’m not sure they’d even notice any of those brief glimpses into a plot.
They see mundane; I see the kernel of an idea.
They see ten or twenty seconds of time; I spin it into a four hundred-page story.
For some of the more repetitious questions that family asks, I've come up with pat answers.
Here we go.
Family: “I’d write a book if I had the time.”
My reply: “I’m a slug with tons of idle time on my hands. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
Family: “Are you going to make your book into a movie?”
My reply: “I already have and it’s out tomorrow. Wanna buy an advance ticket?”
Family: “Where do you get your ideas?”
My reply: “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Or
My reply: “It’s a secret, but I’ll sell you one idea for a hundred bucks.”
Or
My reply: “Well, you see, I have this magic eight-ball...”
Or (my personal favorite)
My reply: “It came to me in a dream.”
Family: (in a whisper) “Have you ever actually done (this, or that, or any of those things) that you have in your book?”
My reply: a roll of my eyes and I walk away.
Seriously, do they think I was once married to a preacher, and a gynecologist, and a vet, and detective and... all of my other heroes?
Do they believe I drove my car off a pier, or got attacked by a lunatic?
Maybe they've forgotten when I used to be a prostitute? Or that art gallery I owned ?
Maybe I forgot to tell them when I was in college to become a nurse, or when I taught school.
Sheesh.
Family support (from my extended family) is an elusive thing.
But my husband is my biggest fan. Every aspect of the business fascinates him. He believes in me, and is never surprised by any new success.
My sons are the same. They’re forever carrying my books to any new females they meet – coworkers, instructors, friends, etc...
To be a writer, you have to have a thick skin. This is not a business for sissies. Trust me on this. As dysfunctional as my extended family usually seems, I learned to deal with them long ago.
Publishing isn’t any different.
But I do give them key spots in my books on a regular basis. So the next time you read a character that you think is too over the top, a scene you can’t believe played out quite that way, or a plot point that is too far fetched, stop and wonder if the writer is channeling an experience with a beloved relative.
In the case of my books, it’s nearly guaranteed.
In the writing community, it’s common knowledge that we don’t get support from family, but rather from our peers.
So support me, already – by sharing your own experiences.
If you’re a writer, how does your family, extended or otherwise, react to your profession? (And even if you aren’t yet published, it’s still a profession.)
If you’re not a writer but you are a reader, what does your family think of it?
Are they tolerant of the time you spend with your nose in a book?
Do they consider you too fanciful, or try to insist that you read something more literary than a romance novel? (That one really burns me up!)
What reactions in general have you gotten from friends or family concerning romance novels – the writing and reading of them?
While you're thinking of those replies, know this: To my family, I'm the odd one, that strange relative they whisper about, the nutty "always has her head in the clouds" daydreamer that no one can understand.
I'm the writer.
You gotta love it!
Hugs!
Lori
Writers and their families.
Now understand, most of my comments aren't about the dh (dear husband) or my sons.
I have three sons, by the way. They're now 19, 21, and 25. And I'm a grandma. Of a grandson. Yeah, the male gene is strong in my family. Maybe that's why I often write from the male pov...
Anyway, the husband and sons are super supportive, encouraging and proud.
This is more about my whacky extended family.
How many times have I written something – a scene straight out of the family history – and a reader or reviewer will state (with utter conviction) that it could never happen that way.
No one would put up with that. (She hasn’t met me, apparently.)
No family could be so dysfunctional.
Seriously, has she ever talked to anyone!? All families are dysfunctional in some ways.
There’s always a crazy aunt or uncle tucked away, or an odd niece or nephew that no one mentions aloud.
It doesn’t bother me so much any more because it gives me more fodder for my stories.
My grandma used to say that if families were laundry hung out to dry and it started to rain, everyone would pull in their own laundry. I suppose in the hills that means we like our own familiar problems.
We’ve learned to deal with them.
To accept them.
It’s everyone else’s problems that seem so weird to us.
Maybe that’s what some reviewers or readers are missing when they criticize an unlikely character or plot point. That their problems - aka life experiences – aren’t the same as mine. They aren’t the same as yours. They aren’t the same as anyone’s, because we’re all unique.
Now, talking about unique...
Here are some awesome comments or observations from my own darling family members.
My mother, without ever reading a single one of my books, was fond of saying, “Some day you’re going to get raped on your doorstep.”
She never elaborated beyond that, and I never asked, and now she’s gone, so I guess I’ll never know what thought processes brought her to that prediction.
My stepfather (who raised me and is my “Dad”) wanted me to give up this nonsense of writing and try selling Mary Kay cosmetics instead. It really was a compliment from him, since he considered me well practiced enough in the make-up department to make a living at it.
Note: I should add that these days he’s all about me being a writer. At 82, he’s obsessed with trying to discover how much money I make, instead of convincing me to quit.
My real father, who I didn’t know until I was 18, wondered why I didn’t just get a ghost-writer to do some of my books so I could have more free time.
Hmmm. Do you think readers would notice if someone else wrote for me?
This is the same guy who insists he could write better love scenes, based on his personal experiences. (Isn’t that gross?)
And he also thinks I got published because (in his opinion, not mine) I’m cute.
Now seriously, isn’t that the main criteria that all publishers consider when buying a book?
One of my aunts usually wants to know when I’ll be on Oprah. She doesn’t understand why I don’t just "do it." Just go on the show and talk about my books. It’d be great promo, after all.
Anyone got Oprah's number?
My other aunt wants to know if I’ll ever write a novel.
Yeah, that’s exactly what she said.
I don’t know what it is I’ve been writing, but apparently, to her, they aren’t novels. Maybe she thinks they’re comic books.
Who knows?
My sis, who I love dearly, keeps telling people that I’m #1 on the New York Times.
God love her, she doesn’t understand that there is a HUGE difference between dangling loosely on to the lower end of the list, which is where I’ve been, and landing solidly in a key position. To her, it’s all the same old, same old.
But oh, to be in such a position! Don't I wish.
My other sister has made it clear that she’s not interested in hearing anything about my writing.
So I don’t mention it, and neither does she.
My brother listens with half an ear, and then often launches into a joke totally unrelated to anything I was saying. He’s a real comedian.
A brother-in-law and his wife, when told by my sister-in-law that I’d made that oh-so-exciting tail end of the NY Times, turned their backs without a single word and walked away.
Yeah, it was meant as a snub, and embarrassed my poor sister-in-law a lot.
Me, I’m used to that from them.
I hope I don’t sound bitter because I’m really not.
Not all of my relatives are insensitive or obtuse. This whole writing gig is a very strange thing to most people. Without saying it aloud, most of my family considers me the odd one, the niece (or aunt or sister or daughter) that no one talks about.
To them, I'm what makes our family dysfunctional.
You gotta love that!
Now, when the whole writing thing is mentioned, it's usually with a question.
The question I get asked most often is, “Where do you get your ideas.”
Which must mean that not everyone has a ton of stories in their heads, kicking around and demanding life.
I wonder how anyone sees the fighter with the swollen cauliflower ears, the crooked nose and the sparkling flash of determination in his eyes, and doesn’t rewrite him as a romantic figure.
Who could possibly have watched “Kiss the Girls” without imagining an Alpha boyfriend at odds with Morgan Freeman as he sets out to save the heroine?
Is it possible for someone to see a man carrying a child on his shoulders, or a woman struggling with her Great Dane, or a couple whispering close together, without plotting out a story to showcase that particular scene?
My family certainly doesn’t. I’m not sure they’d even notice any of those brief glimpses into a plot.
They see mundane; I see the kernel of an idea.
They see ten or twenty seconds of time; I spin it into a four hundred-page story.
For some of the more repetitious questions that family asks, I've come up with pat answers.
Here we go.
Family: “I’d write a book if I had the time.”
My reply: “I’m a slug with tons of idle time on my hands. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
Family: “Are you going to make your book into a movie?”
My reply: “I already have and it’s out tomorrow. Wanna buy an advance ticket?”
Family: “Where do you get your ideas?”
My reply: “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Or
My reply: “It’s a secret, but I’ll sell you one idea for a hundred bucks.”
Or
My reply: “Well, you see, I have this magic eight-ball...”
Or (my personal favorite)
My reply: “It came to me in a dream.”
Family: (in a whisper) “Have you ever actually done (this, or that, or any of those things) that you have in your book?”
My reply: a roll of my eyes and I walk away.
Seriously, do they think I was once married to a preacher, and a gynecologist, and a vet, and detective and... all of my other heroes?
Do they believe I drove my car off a pier, or got attacked by a lunatic?
Maybe they've forgotten when I used to be a prostitute? Or that art gallery I owned ?
Maybe I forgot to tell them when I was in college to become a nurse, or when I taught school.
Sheesh.
Family support (from my extended family) is an elusive thing.
But my husband is my biggest fan. Every aspect of the business fascinates him. He believes in me, and is never surprised by any new success.
My sons are the same. They’re forever carrying my books to any new females they meet – coworkers, instructors, friends, etc...
To be a writer, you have to have a thick skin. This is not a business for sissies. Trust me on this. As dysfunctional as my extended family usually seems, I learned to deal with them long ago.
Publishing isn’t any different.
But I do give them key spots in my books on a regular basis. So the next time you read a character that you think is too over the top, a scene you can’t believe played out quite that way, or a plot point that is too far fetched, stop and wonder if the writer is channeling an experience with a beloved relative.
In the case of my books, it’s nearly guaranteed.
In the writing community, it’s common knowledge that we don’t get support from family, but rather from our peers.
So support me, already – by sharing your own experiences.
If you’re a writer, how does your family, extended or otherwise, react to your profession? (And even if you aren’t yet published, it’s still a profession.)
If you’re not a writer but you are a reader, what does your family think of it?
Are they tolerant of the time you spend with your nose in a book?
Do they consider you too fanciful, or try to insist that you read something more literary than a romance novel? (That one really burns me up!)
What reactions in general have you gotten from friends or family concerning romance novels – the writing and reading of them?
While you're thinking of those replies, know this: To my family, I'm the odd one, that strange relative they whisper about, the nutty "always has her head in the clouds" daydreamer that no one can understand.
I'm the writer.
You gotta love it!
Hugs!
Lori
posted at 3:17 AM
