A lot of people assume that an author creates a main character who is really the writer herself, though maybe a little bit in disguise. And that the supporting characters are really friends and relatives of the author. (My sister thinks she is the sister in my new book, Child of Mine, but she couldn't be further from the truth.)
I am not my main character. She is Katie, a thirty three year old midwife who longs for a baby of her own. She is strong willed, independent, bright, and athletic. She knows what she wants and will do anything to get it. She thinks she was terrible in algebra but excelled in science and school.
I am not thirty three years old. I'm actually about to turn forty five, which, trust me, is nothing like being thirty three. I do not long for a baby of my own, in fact, I have two teenaged daughters, ages eighteen and fifteen. Like Katie, though, I went through a lot of infertility treatment, but our stories are not the same. The reasons for our infertility are completely different, and we went through different treatments.
A lot of people think of me as strong willed. I'm not sure I am. I don't always know what I want, but when I do want something -- like to publish this book -- I find a way to do it. I am not athletic, as a matter of fact, I'm writing this on an unusually mild January day and I should be outside walking for exercise, but I am in my robe and pajamas and it's 10:45 in the morning. I do not like to get sweaty and out of breath!
I am not a midwife. I was terrible in science and never even took Chemistry in high school because I barely made it through Biology. But I am obsessed with pregnancy and birthing and love birthing television shows. I had two completely different births myself and am fascinated by all things pregnancy. If I was any good at science, I probably would have become an L&D nurse or a midwife. But alas, I am just destined to write about them.
Katie thinks she was terrible at Algebra. I know I was terrible at math. The difference between us is that I was truly terrible at math and did not go to an Ivy League college, but she did.
I am passionate about Katie. And while we may share some traits, I think she's everything I am not. I don't know if I wrote her that way subconsciously, or whether she just turned out like that. But I do love her. I hope you will, too.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
The Similarity Between Writing a Novel and Going through Inferility Treatment
What do writing a novel and going through infertility treatment have in common?
You're probably thinking NOTHING.
I've done both. I went through infertility treatment twice -- to conceive both my daughters -- and I've written a novel, Child of Mine, (coincidentally about infertility) to be published in March.
When you go through infertility treatment, as when you attempt to write a novel, you learn quickly that your hard work -- no matter how hard it is, how long you try, how many hours you toil -- may result in nothing.
That's the opposite of everything we hear growing up. If we try hard enough, we will be successful. If we work long enough, we will be rewarded. If we just keep at it, we will get better and better and eventually it will all work out.
Except in both instances, infertility and writing a novel, these adages are not necessarily true.
The first time I went through infertility treatment, once we discovered the problem and followed the necessary course, I got pregnant quickly. The second time I went through infertility, it took months and months, pregnancy losses, and much more aggressive treatment. I was shocked. Hadn't I done enough the first time around? Wasn't I still young enough to have a baby? Why was it turning out this way? What if -- what IF -- I could never have another baby, what if my daughter would be an only child? The what ifs pounded in my brain and didn't let up until I was thirty six weeks pregnant and knew that no matter what, this baby would be born.
Truth be told, Child of Mine is not my first novel. I won't even say what number it is, because that would make you think I am either crazy or not actually a very good writer. (I am.) I've tried for years to write a novel that agents would fall in love with, that editors would fall in love with, that readers would fall in love with. And each time, I found out that particular work was not right. It was the most frustrating experience of my life, other than, of course, infertility. I wondered if I would ever get published? Would I ever see my name on the cover of a book? Would anyone ever like it enough to write me an email and say that they enjoyed it?
And then, just like in infertility treatment, when you think you can't bear to do it again, I tried once more. And this time I got an agent. And she loved my work. And other people started reading it and saying, "I love your work." And like with the positive pregnancy test, I couldn't believe it. And like someone who's gone through miscarriage, I didn't want to tell anyone, lest I jinx it.
But now, like my pregnancy at thirty six weeks, my novel is here to stay. I conquered the I-can't-get-my-novel-to-work-right struggle and I conquered the I-will-never-have-a-baby struggle even though at times I wasn't sure I 'd conquer either. I still don't know how the novel will be received, but I do know the pregnancies produced two beautiful girls. I was lucky with those, truly lucky. Maybe I'll get lucky with my novel, too.
You're probably thinking NOTHING.
I've done both. I went through infertility treatment twice -- to conceive both my daughters -- and I've written a novel, Child of Mine, (coincidentally about infertility) to be published in March.
When you go through infertility treatment, as when you attempt to write a novel, you learn quickly that your hard work -- no matter how hard it is, how long you try, how many hours you toil -- may result in nothing.
That's the opposite of everything we hear growing up. If we try hard enough, we will be successful. If we work long enough, we will be rewarded. If we just keep at it, we will get better and better and eventually it will all work out.
Except in both instances, infertility and writing a novel, these adages are not necessarily true.
The first time I went through infertility treatment, once we discovered the problem and followed the necessary course, I got pregnant quickly. The second time I went through infertility, it took months and months, pregnancy losses, and much more aggressive treatment. I was shocked. Hadn't I done enough the first time around? Wasn't I still young enough to have a baby? Why was it turning out this way? What if -- what IF -- I could never have another baby, what if my daughter would be an only child? The what ifs pounded in my brain and didn't let up until I was thirty six weeks pregnant and knew that no matter what, this baby would be born.
Truth be told, Child of Mine is not my first novel. I won't even say what number it is, because that would make you think I am either crazy or not actually a very good writer. (I am.) I've tried for years to write a novel that agents would fall in love with, that editors would fall in love with, that readers would fall in love with. And each time, I found out that particular work was not right. It was the most frustrating experience of my life, other than, of course, infertility. I wondered if I would ever get published? Would I ever see my name on the cover of a book? Would anyone ever like it enough to write me an email and say that they enjoyed it?
And then, just like in infertility treatment, when you think you can't bear to do it again, I tried once more. And this time I got an agent. And she loved my work. And other people started reading it and saying, "I love your work." And like with the positive pregnancy test, I couldn't believe it. And like someone who's gone through miscarriage, I didn't want to tell anyone, lest I jinx it.
But now, like my pregnancy at thirty six weeks, my novel is here to stay. I conquered the I-can't-get-my-novel-to-work-right struggle and I conquered the I-will-never-have-a-baby struggle even though at times I wasn't sure I 'd conquer either. I still don't know how the novel will be received, but I do know the pregnancies produced two beautiful girls. I was lucky with those, truly lucky. Maybe I'll get lucky with my novel, too.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Beginnings and Endings
Welcome to my blog! This is a beginning, for me and for you, as we start to learn about each other.
There are so many beginnings in life. Besides being born (kind of a big one!) there is beginning to walk, beginning school, beginning to drive, beginning college, beginning a family...the list goes on and on...(and I've left out a ton of beginning steps along the way!)
This year brings two big beginnings for me and I'm not sure I can qualify one as bigger than the other. They seem equal in my eyes. In no particular order, one is my older daughter's freshman year of college; the other is publishing my first novel.
Time-wise, my daughter definitely came first! Her birth was what I thought was the end of a long journey of infertility (I came to find out that wasn't true, exactly, more to come!) and the beginning of our lives as a family unit. We had lots of beginnings with her, of course, and I've savored every one. (Okay, I admit, I could live without the beginning of toilet training.) But the biggest beginning, by far, has been the beginning of her adulthood, which started in September when she left for college about a six hour drive from home.
Rebecca has always been the independent sort, and she's traveled and spent many summers away from us at sleep away camp, so I knew she would be fine. But still, beginning college is a big step, both for her and for us. It's taken me a while to get used to her not being here. She is very busy, living the beginning of her adult life as a college student, going to class, joining clubs, meeting friends, working. It's the beginning of a lifetime of separation, of the very real possibility that Rebecca may not live near me ever again, that she will have a rich life full of other people and ideas and experiences that I won't know about or experience myself.
The other beginning is my novel, Child of Mine. The novel is younger than Rebecca -- thankfully -- but still, a journey of all its own. I started this novel four years ago, when Rebecca was in ninth grade. It took me a year to write, and then a year to edit, and then another year and a half of my amazing agent trying to get a publisher to take it, and then months until we decided that we would publish it anyway, as an ebook, through the agency's ebook division, because it's good. Because it tells a story that so many are familiar with -- the desire to begin a family.
I'd love to hear about your beginnings. What are you trying to begin right now? What are some of your best beginnings? Some of your worst? Contact me using the form on my web site and we can talk.
Judy
There are so many beginnings in life. Besides being born (kind of a big one!) there is beginning to walk, beginning school, beginning to drive, beginning college, beginning a family...the list goes on and on...(and I've left out a ton of beginning steps along the way!)
This year brings two big beginnings for me and I'm not sure I can qualify one as bigger than the other. They seem equal in my eyes. In no particular order, one is my older daughter's freshman year of college; the other is publishing my first novel.
Time-wise, my daughter definitely came first! Her birth was what I thought was the end of a long journey of infertility (I came to find out that wasn't true, exactly, more to come!) and the beginning of our lives as a family unit. We had lots of beginnings with her, of course, and I've savored every one. (Okay, I admit, I could live without the beginning of toilet training.) But the biggest beginning, by far, has been the beginning of her adulthood, which started in September when she left for college about a six hour drive from home.
Rebecca has always been the independent sort, and she's traveled and spent many summers away from us at sleep away camp, so I knew she would be fine. But still, beginning college is a big step, both for her and for us. It's taken me a while to get used to her not being here. She is very busy, living the beginning of her adult life as a college student, going to class, joining clubs, meeting friends, working. It's the beginning of a lifetime of separation, of the very real possibility that Rebecca may not live near me ever again, that she will have a rich life full of other people and ideas and experiences that I won't know about or experience myself.
The other beginning is my novel, Child of Mine. The novel is younger than Rebecca -- thankfully -- but still, a journey of all its own. I started this novel four years ago, when Rebecca was in ninth grade. It took me a year to write, and then a year to edit, and then another year and a half of my amazing agent trying to get a publisher to take it, and then months until we decided that we would publish it anyway, as an ebook, through the agency's ebook division, because it's good. Because it tells a story that so many are familiar with -- the desire to begin a family.
I'd love to hear about your beginnings. What are you trying to begin right now? What are some of your best beginnings? Some of your worst? Contact me using the form on my web site and we can talk.
Judy
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