The F Word

 

This blog has been quiet for a while now. In part because I have been focused a lot on turning forty this year and in part because I have been too busy with being a mom and a photographer while waiting to hear back from a second publisher about a thriller I finished earlier this year.

The first publisher I queried recently responded with a pretty rejection letter that included a personal note which defined my manuscript Nuka as “culturally rich”. With all the talk in the air of cultural appropriation I find myself in a possible predicament with the book having Inuit characters and a northern theme and even though my husband and children are Inuit  (I am not ) and so I am taking steps to decide whether or not to go forward with publication.

I have been seeking the opinions and input of members of the Inuit community and first sending my manuscript to northern publishers who I feel would best input whether or not I should go forward with publication. throughout creation of the manuscript I welcomed feedback from the community through my social media statuses.

In other news I have been studying the craft of writing as always through books dating back to the early eighties (that’s another blog)  and working on a re-write of my first feature film but at my age, excuses for not writing and engaging of the craft of at least thinking about writing count for nothing. Did I mention I’m turning forty? (Yes, that’s weighing heavily on me these days). I may create a count down to forty project, it’s up in the air.

I figured by now I would have published a few books, had more articles produced, written more short stories but in truth the stories do not write themselves and I have always been more focused on family than career since I hit thirty-two. My first children’s book did not get the type of distribution I hoped for and as a result I pulled it off the market. I had my pity party. I’m over it now and have moved on to other projects. Most of which, until today were still in the thinking stage.

For a long time I had a basement office, which I finally invited my husband to let him turn it into a man cave, or whatever it is men do with basements when their wives aren’t hogging that space. As a result I have bags of books to give away that I also swore I would have read by now when I bought them. (There are only about four bookcases worth of books in this place to begin with, maybe five if I count the ones I have aside that I still plan to read.)

I have written a few extra paragraphs onto a manuscript I started around 2012 but I don’t count that as progress, the fictitious child is still trapped in a negligent home and the siblings are still at war with one another. However, if I make good starting today this book may be done by year’s end yet. (Update: the child is being rescued and it could be a happy ending yet.)

In doing things I love, mothering, housecleaning (kidding but it’s a necessary evil), taking the kids to the library and going out for coffee I have found it difficult to leave my camera behind. I have discovered that it takes a few seconds to tell a story from start to finish with a single image than it does coming up with the right word for a sentence when the one that comes to mind fails to meet its purpose and the minute hand on the clock ticks like a dreadful fading pulse as if every metaphorical breath could be the character’s last if I don’t think up another word and fast.

I’ve been doing a lot of freelance photography work and for a while I feared that I might actually enjoy photography more than writing. I realise now that’s not possible (for me) as I have finally found my way back to the keyboard and to you the reader without whom this blog would just be a bunch of pixels wasting away. And now, coffee.

Writing Literary Fiction

 

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