One of the big words
in publishing is “Branding.” You must have a brand, a writer is
told again and again. At the West Virginia Book Festival, I attended
last month, in the self publishing workshop with Jane Friedman,
branding crept in to the lecture.
Oh, branding, I have
resisted the thought. I don't want to be narrowed down to one thing.
I want to be a fiction writer. I pick up a thought from Phil Vischer,
the creator of Veggie Tales, in his book, Me, Myself and Bob. After
losing his dream for a while, he finds he must be like a jelly fish,
floating where God leads. Yes, I think, go where God leads me, don't
be conformed to a rut, or in the literary world, a brand.
Still, I am a good
student, and fight that rebellious spirit. I do want success, of
course. I'd be lying to say I wasn't seeking a little bit of fame. I
think any writer that pursues this publishing journey has to have a
little bit of the dream of success to put oomph behind all that goes
into promoting oneself. I won't cast dispersion, but anyone who says
otherwise is maybe not telling the truth.
I envisioned with
Main Street, my first book I wrote, of financial riches, well, maybe
not riches, but more independence. I would write historical fiction
only. I chose the pictures of the house I grew up in that my dad took
with his Instamatic, as my symbol of Gables and Gingerbread, my first
brand, of stories. Houses built with gables, the pitched roofs
displaying the intricate designs, called Gingerbread. I thought first, stories about how the families or men who built these kind of
houses would be an intriguing series. I drove around eastern Ohio for
my job at the time and saw several houses like the one I grew up in,
which were not common across the line in Pennsylvania, where mine is.
The Martha and Tom
story grew in my imagination. The turn of the last century and its
progress blossomed into a story of isolationism, protecting a way of
life, and hatred with a worldly and godly sorrow in response to
actions. I didn't want to be preachy, but I am a Christian, so my
world view is through those eyes. I can't deny my beliefs. An atheist
admitted to me, he liked the story, but his life didn't change, yet.
I thought these
stories would be my brand, only. I encountered a house south of
Fowler, Ohio, that I set my next story in. I haven't finished
Country, yet, although I started it for National Novel Writing Month
in 2011. I had a strong beginning with low clouds, storms, prodigal
daughter and the good daughter, but not haughty. Christina is loving
and loves to serve her family and God. I got lost in the historical
detail and where the story needed to go. I have a better idea, but I
don't feel it is it time, yet.
I chose as my
symbol, the Gingerbread house or as I came to find out is really a
Carpenter Gothic, like in the painting, American Gothic. We knew that
at one time the boards lay up and down, like the house in the
background of the farming couple, and you can see the gable, too.
In the year 2012,
the seeds for Summer Triangle came to me. At first, I had no idea how
personal it would be. No, I didn't become pregnant, but the other
underlying theme is a mother's worry about her adult children following the faith in which they were raised. 2012 an abyss opened for me. I wanted my writing to save me from working
outside the home. I had too much on my plate and I needed rest.
It didn't come. I
left a home health job because the travel became ludicrous, as well
as all the preparations for the Affordable Health Care Act. I
imagined a steady 7-3 or as it turned out, 3-11, job close to home
would ease some of the tension. Nursing home world ended up being one
of the most disrespected jobs I ever did. Staff was always suspect
and never to be believed. When I heard how much people paid to have a
loved one stay there, I almost cried. Short staff is to be expected,
but when it was scheduled that way, my mind was blown.
I had many rewards,
though, from working there. I adopted mothers when I missed mine so
much. One man always had the most beautiful proposals for me. I could
only say I'd stay until the wind changed. Another couple adopted me.
My residents and families rejoiced with my writing. They returned
the love I feel for them.
I surrendered to
God's will, that He wanted me there for some reason. Well, I had to
do that almost every day. I had to pump myself up in the mirror for the first half year. And I often wanted to run screaming from the
building, like Scarlett in Gone with the Wind, the Atlanta hospital
scene. The last time I said, “God, You want me here, I will do your
will.” I read an ad in the paper for a home health job in New
Castle.
I e-mailed my resume
and the next morning after I prayed that again about God's will, I
read my e-mail, a response to my resume. I knew the director. She remembered me from when I was
a co-leader for my oldest daughter's Girl Scout troop. My caring and
compassion shown to my daughter let her know she wanted me on staff. I took the job and
to borrow from Robert Frost, it has made all the difference.
So back to the
branding. Today, I felt I had to put the historical stories, the
Gables and Gingerbread stories, on hold. I needed to follow through
with the story started in Summer Triangle. But what is my brand, now?
I cringe at saying women's fiction, Christian fiction or as the
library loves to tag it, inspirational fiction. I write about messy
lives. Not everyone follows Jesus. Some die and we don't know. How
far does forgiveness or the stubbornness of mankind go in rejecting
God's promise of eternal life through His son, Jesus? Theologians
have tried to answer that question for centuries.I don't want to speculate.
Of the choices
above, I like inspirational. Don't we all want to inspire people?
Though, I prefer writer of good stories. Is that a brand?
