As the years passed, I remained like this, but family obligations increased. I began to realize things about this industry too, unsavory things, and the love affair downgraded from the honeymoon stage to something far more realistic, and at times, daunting. Regardless, I’m naturally resilient, and it takes a lot for me to throw in the towel on something that I enjoy.
I had to find my tribe. Did I need a readers group and a social media presence? Did I need to maintain my website for further engagement? But first, I had to ask, “Who are my readers?” How could we find each other? I needed to let you all know that I was here. Where are the readers who enjoy a deep exploration of humankind, unapologetic sensual scenes, and detailed writing? This is how I write. It’s not purple prose—it’s me. I have always been very descriptive in my style. Hell, I even speak that way when relaying a simple visit to the grocery store. Sometimes, much to my friend or husband’s chagrin, I have told them everything – but there’s a purpose to the narrative, it always is, and one would never know that for certain unless they read it for themselves. I will discuss everything from the mildly chewed, dried piece of pink bubblegum stuck beneath the handlebar of the wobbly-wheeled shopping cart, to the sad, rotting crimson tomato resting amongst its healthy brethren, trying to trick me into buying it by turning on its ‘good’ side, and hiding its dimpled, maroon bruise from unsuspecting eyes.
Where are these people who dig that stuff? Where are the readers who enjoy riding shotgun with the characters because of all of the aspects and elements infused in each page, mixed with contemporary settings and situations? I WANT YOU RIGHT THERE. I want you to see it. Smell it. Hear it. Taste it. Feel it.
Where are the readers who are okay with slow burns? I needed to find them, too, and I did, but I know there are more out there. When I did find some of the first members of said tribe, they joined my newsletter and readers’ group, reached out to me to thank me for a book I’d written, and thus, the love affair began. Some became Street Team members and others Beta Readers, or both. Some of us even became friends. During that same time, I was trying to put together the best support team for myself, too. For instance, I went through different editors. This was a quest within itself.
Some may not have been the best match for either my personality or writing style. I can’t speak for every author, but for me, I have to like my editor as a person, and I have to enjoy working with them, and I need for them to know what they are doing. Their service is not free, nor would I expect it to be, but regardless, for the type of author and person I am, whatever editor I had – I knew we had to basically choose each other. I knew we’d eventually be friends, too, and I can’t be friends with someone who does not deliver, who does not respect my writing style, or doesn’t yoke well with me overall.
Case in point: If you are familiar with my work, then you already know I often write topics that might make people uncomfortable, and you have to be comfortable with my writing to deal with, endure, however you wish to say it, a 300+ page book that is full of grit, graphic details of pain, violence, sex, mental anguish, and everything else I’ve decided to throw in there that may make you squirm. I also did a lot of character head-hopping early in my career, so that was something that needed to be addressed, too. Sidenote: (I cringe when I read some of my earlier work due to this prior head-hopping habit, but I’m thankful for the learning experience all the same.) Make no mistake though, I am not a shock jock writer.
This wasn’t contrived, and I needed an editor who was also comfortable in their own skin and could see my vision, too. No prudes allowed. They needed to give constructive feedback and suggestions, but not try to change what I was trying to convey. If I say it’s oozing blood, then that is what I mean. Period. They couldn’t be put off by topics of race relations, criminal behavior and the like, either, and most importantly, they could not try to kill my voice. Kill the spelling and grammar mistakes. Teach me why this paragraph, or even entire chapter, doesn’t work. Tell me this is a word dump and advise me to scrap it. Let me know that I need more details of what is going on in this scene, and less in another, but don’t kill my vision. I am who I am, and I express myself how I express myself. This is my art.