At any point from about 1989 to this moment, if you would have asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have told you: “I want to be a writer.”
Not even an author. I didn’t even want to be published. Just wanted to sit in a room with a typewriter or a massive computer circa 1990 and write. This is an introverted extrovert’s dream. Or at least this introverted extrovert’s dream.
Last week, Relevant published a blog post by Jeff Goins. You can read it here (but can you wait, just real quick?), but the gist is that people have dreams and that’s all fine and well, but they need muscle behind them. I think he alluded to Eminem at one point, so you understand where I’m going. You have one life. Live it. Don’t be scared of what you’ve been commissioned to do. Or, as Uncle Frederich says: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” He says it better than me. Go figure.
I was so glad that Jeff Goins pushed submit on his blog entry, because he forced me to write this post. Back in July, I became part of a two person team that started writing a book.
A fiction book.
Commence your groaning now.
Ok. Now, it’s my turn. Megan (whom I have been friends with for about two years and probably eternity on some plane) and I have been working on this book (with the wonderful Amy as our illustrator general), and we’re going to publish it ourselves next October (10/11/12). In order to publish it ourselves, in addition to be completely crazy, we have to market it ourselves, we have to generate interest in it ourselves, and of course, we had to write it ourselves. The fun part was writing, and now apparently, the hard work begins.
We had a meeting with a wise man who knows infinitely more about any of this than we do, and he implored us to have a ‘thing’. A gimmick, if you will. That makes it sound cheap, but don’t worry, because what I’m about to tell you will drown out the cheap and just make me sound generally certifiable.
Megan and I have assumed pen names (can you hear 7th grade Erin jumping for joy?), and basically, we have assumed the online personalities of (wait for it) two eighty year-old women who pen letters to each other and have decided to write a novel to stay out of the assisted living home.
Can you imagine what this is like for me? To just broadcast my crazy all over the internet? It’s worse than when my parents grounded me from the Valentine’s Dance. It’s just so much worse.
Here’s where you come in. Today starts our social media push to “generate interest”. Do you know how ridiculous I feel talking to you about this? It cannot be measured. So here’s what I’m asking. If this kind of thing interests you (i.e.: fiction, hopefully what amounts to a good story, people doing stuff on their own, or just because we’re friends…), we would love you til the day we died if you’d follow us on Twitter (@wyattandwynn) or ‘like’ us on Facebook (facebook.com/wyattandwynn). And if you have friends who are interested in grown women turning into some version of Grey Gardens/Golden Girls on display via the internet, we’d love it if you’d tell them about the book and about our alternate personalities: Wyatt & Wynn.
We’re going to be doing a Kickstarter campaign (because, dag yo, self-publishing be expensive), and we’re going to have a newsletter where we’ll be doing some fun surprises before the book releases (in 400 years). So if that is your bag, we’d love to see your social media-ed face on either of our internet homes. If not, we have great respect for that, as there are a lot of places on the internet I do not care to tread (i.e.: CosPlay forums, anything having to do with community gardening, and MySpace). I’m going to commit to NOT badgering you on this blog about the book, although it’s only my lifelong dream, so please don’t be annoyed if I mention from time to time. I mean, I guess you can be, but don’t expect me to sympathize with you.
I’m kidding. I’m a total people pleaser. There will be much sympathy.
There are people who have inspired me just in general in my life, who I’ve probably never taken the time to thank. These people are my dear friends and family, who were (at least feigning like they were) excited when I told them about this project, listened to me beat it to death, but truly just encouraged me, either with specific words or actions, or just being themselves and living their dreams out so other people who are frightened can see that it can, in fact, be done. There are people who are helping us in ways we can’t repay (literally, because we don’t have the money), but we hope one day we can. It’s amazing the group of people who I call friends, because you wouldn’t believe how absolutely talented they are, and how generous they are with their giftings. There is so much more I can (and WILL) say about this, but I hope that for now, a simple and very heartfelt ‘thanks’ is heard from me, to you.
So there it is. We’re writing a book. It’s the first of seven. It’s called The Last Beholder. It’s written by two old broads named Wyatt & Wynn. We couldn’t (and can’t) do it without a group of wonderful people who we love and love us. There is so much gratefulness in my heart, I don’t even understand how to process it. We’re actually really excited about it, despite my nervousness/reluctance to tell people of its existence. We think the story is great, and I hope you do too.
If you need me, I’ll be throwing up somewhere. Thanks, internet, for letting me spill my guts.