An Author is Born: the Process
Karen Telleen-Lawton -- August 26, 2006
Karen's tale of getting from manuscript to book signings.
It's paparazzi time.
Those myriad hours in libraries combing through books, documents, and illustrations are ancient history. Vanished are the decisions about whom to best represent Rattlesnake Canyon's multifaceted stories and what questions would best elicit nuggets of wisdom. The congenial hours of interviewing hang like soft-framed photographs in my memory, while the endless vortex of time consumed pouring over voice recordings retreats into the background.
My internal struggles about how to present the big picture, how to get it on the page, have disappeared. The draft upon draft upon draft, attacking superfluous words, discarding verbose and flowery descriptions, and searching for the perfect word -- it seemed never ending, but it has ended. My writing groups have spoken their piece, and claimed their rightful places as truth tellers as well as loyal supporters. The digital scissors have done their job, and the little clippings unceremoniously trashed, or dutifully filed for some nebulous future.
My files overflow with magazine submissions for articles trumpeting the chosen experts of my book. Several choice articles frost the thick sludge of rejections. Periodic updates from my agent gather dust-bytes in some far reach of my computer: those national publishers who had the audacity to reject my crowning work. Nevertheless, their spare words of praise and support and their exhortations to persevere remained with me. Those good words buoyed me through the tedious work of proofing and checking with the local publishers who said Canyon Voices was just want they wanted for their portfolio. A proposal, an acceptance and a match, a good match.
Even the stress of these last few months is beginning to abate. It's true, my nerves frayed as deadlines loomed. How many errors are too many? One is too many, I knew, for there would always be another. I see one now, mocking me every time I open the book. My husband is sworn to secrecy; will anyone else notice?
But now I can chuckle at its audacity, that glaring blemish. The hard work of making the publishing marriage work is fading in the glory of the present. It's time not for regrets but for reviews, parties, and paparazzi.
The fiction of the future is the yellow brick road I now skip upon, in the midst of my honeymoon. This published book is my trousseau; the praise of friends is my rice and birdseed. I can handle whatever challenges arise. Just please don't let there be silence.
Check out www.CanyonVoices.com and join the celebrations in Santa Barbara, Pasadena, Carpinteria, Montecito, and Los Olivos in September and October. (See "Events" on the web site.)