I am blessed to be part of a group of writers who serve as readers, cheerleaders, advice-givers, and all-round support system for one another. These women, some newly published, some soon-to-be-published and some yet-to-be-published, are honest, smart, funny, caring, and young. That last quality may seem irrelevant, but I see it in neon letters as bright as a Vegas marquee because it is the quality that separates me from my writing friends. I think they would describe me as honest, smart, funny (at least occasionally), and caring. But no one can truthfully describe me as young.
Sometimes I fear that difference diminishes my chances of succeeding in the genre we all love. The romance writers I know who belong to my generation are genre stars who have been publishing for decades, not aspiring novelists hoping for a contest win or a call from an agent.
I’m all too conscious of Time’s winged chariot, and I admit there are days when the writing is not going well that my age becomes an excuse to give up on the dream. My inner critic rants not only about the lack of plot and the ineptitude of my writing but also about the futility of a woman of my years trying to break into romance. I think longingly of the time when I was only a reader of romance fiction and limited my writing to genres I could reasonably expect to be unaffected by my years.
I’m all too conscious of Time’s winged chariot, and I admit there are days when the writing is not going well that my age becomes an excuse to give up on the dream. My inner critic rants not only about the lack of plot and the ineptitude of my writing but also about the futility of a woman of my years trying to break into romance. I think longingly of the time when I was only a reader of romance fiction and limited my writing to genres I could reasonably expect to be unaffected by my years.
Imagine my surprise when I read that Pearl Wolf, whose debut romance novel, Too Hot for a Spy, was published by Kensington in March of this year, is 79. Wolf has a second Fairchild novel scheduled for release in 2010 and four more books in the series planned. Reading her story revealed my concerns for the pitiful excuses they were. Thomas Edison famously said, “None of my inventions came by accident. I see a worthwhile need to be met and I make trial after trial until it comes. What it boils down to is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent perspiration.” Ms. Wolf provided the inspiration. Now I’m perspiring heavily as I struggle with a synopsis and query letter, and I’m saying here in my very first Just Janga blog in front of you and God and everybody that by summer’s end I will be querying for The Long Way Home and be well on my way with Book 2.
Have you ever found inspiration unexpectedly?
