In Pursuit of Writerly

Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia. ~E.L. Doctorow

I’ve written a handful of short stories and novellas, plus four full-length novels—almost five, actually—but we’re not gonna address the WIP at the moment because I am totally sick of that fucker.

I think it’s safe to say I’m “officially” a writer now. So I have a question, when exactly do I start to feel “writerly”?

You know—writerly.

What does it mean to be writerly??

I don’t know …exactly.

Like Oscar Wilde, maybe? All suave and snappy, with those killer quotes that still have zing a century later. Or for a more modern example—you know, someone actually still ALIVE— JK Rowling is pretty snappy, too. Have you ever seen an interviewer get the best of her? Seriously, the woman is the queen of writerly wit.

Oh, and there’s always Stephen King. He’s the epitome of writerly. Don’t get me started. Let’s just do the Wayne and Garth grovel right now.

Diana Gabaldon, also mega-awesome. Plus, she’s actually gotten to touch Sam Heughan. I don’t know if that qualifies as writerly or not, but who the hell cares?

Ahem, back to being writerly.

Is it just money and fame I am talking about then? Well, maybe. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t be looking down my nose at either, but I don’t think that is it. Or at least not all of it.

Money is cool and all, and recognition is even better. Have you met a writer yet who wasn’t needy as hell, at least secretly? I thought not. Recognition is huge for us.

Hmmm, maybe writerly it supposed to be feeling that you are a part of this big community down through the ages. This secret club that includes everyone from Shakespeare to the above luminaries and on down to people like….me?

Maybe I am just suffering from romance writer insecurity? You know, how other genres treat us like a slightly embarrassing second cousin who twirls around a stripper pole for extra cash now and then. Somehow, despite the fact most of the great, enduring stories in the world revolve around romance, the romance genre is always introduced with a slight sneer, and is expected to walk onstage with a properly bowed head. Even Diana Gabaldon has gone out of her way to make it abundantly clear she is most definitely not a romance author. You know, just in case anyone was wondering.

It is true that me and my writer buddies aren’t exactly the Algonquin Round Table. But then again, I wouldn’t want us to be. I like us the way we are. See, I write PNR, aka paranormal romance, so there is this huge bonus that most of my contemporaries are geeks, like me.

They fangirl over Jensen Ackles just as much as I do, or more (you know who you are, Veronica!). And they don’t look at me like I’m crazy when I argue that 10 was the best doctor, but no one should skip 9. They understand the answer to the universe and everything will always be 42. And that it’s a knight’s duty to sample as much peril as he can.

See, we’re really not all about the sex—though I have had some interesting conversations about peanut butter and butt plugs…

But besides all that, like any other proper writers; we agonize over characters’ lives as if they were family members, cry when they hurt, get pissed when things conspire against them; though, technically, since we create the characters and situations that hurt them, it’s us inflicting their pain …so you know…

Yeah, we’re pretty much cray-cray.

Hey, hold on now. *peers at quote above*

Oh, this is what writerly feels like.

Apparently, I’ve arrived and I never knew.

Yay, me.