As a writer, I sit alone in a room and think, and then put words on paper. It's not exactly riveting, believe me.
But as a writer who eventually wants to SELL her books, I must overcome my solitary tendencies. I must stand in front of a crowd and talk about writing. I must somehow make the process seem scintillating instead of stultifying.
Isn't writing like comedy: the more you analyze it and pick it apart, the drearier it becomes?
Anyway, I hope I'm not completely dreary later this week when I speak at Sleuthfest, the annual convention of mystery writers held in southern Florida. (It's on South Beach this year. Aren't we chic and happening?)
I'm on one panel; moderating another. Now that I have a couple of these events under my belt, I'm not actually physically sick anymore at the prospect of public speaking. Although, God knows, I'd make an impression if I hurled at the podium. Bet they wouldn't forget me then. "Hey! There's the woman who wrote Mama and the Murderer!'' She splattered me earlier today.''
Hmmmm . . . one of the panels IS on marketing, and writers are always looking for a way to stand out from the crowd. Projectile vomiting just might be the path to publishing success!