Monday Madness: Make Sure You Love It

The inspiration for this post came to me at 2:35 a.m. Sunday morning as my brother and I were trying to get back to Arkansas. At this point we'd been on the road for 22 hours straight (driving to Minnesota and back) to return my nephew home. What a way to end a honeymoon, eh?

But as I was nodding away over a cup of convenience store (and mildly disgusting) coffee, an interesting point crossed my mind:

There's a reason writers are not paid hourly. I just received the check for my short story ($25) and it boiled down to me earning about one dollar for every hour I worked on that story. At minimum wage I would have gotten $181.25. (I like the latter amount better.) However, if you think about how much time you spend working on a NOVEL...OMG.

If you're lucky or extremely talented/famous or all of the above, you might get a good hourly wage once that advance rolls in. However, I'm sure that most of us writers are always going to be underpaid in the scheme of things. (That's why you REALLY have to love what you're doing.)

So, let's say that you're one of those blissfully organized writers and write for at least two hours a day every day. That's 730 hours a year. That does not include the time you spend brainstorming or editing. So, for the sake of fairness, let's add another 730 hours to that total. (And, really, we all know that's being frugal.) That's a total of 1,460 hours. (Yep, that's totally being conservative. Most people I know work on their stories WAY MORE than that.) If you work on your novel for one year, just for the writing/editing/revising stage, you would need an advance of at least $10,585 to earn minimum wage for your efforts. (Note that the total STILL does not include querying/researching agents and editors, etc.)

The question is, can you live off of $10,585? (Sure, if you live in a cave, snub modern conveniences and shoot your dinner.)

Now, if you're a full-time writer, working 40 hours a week (including all your revising, editing, querying, etc.) then you would work 2,080 hours a year. Which means you would need a $15,080 advance to make minimum wage. In the light of some authors receiving six figure advances, you might scoff at my paltry number. But in most cases, a fledgling author is more likely to see one of my calculations on their advance than six figures. So, repeating some words to the wise: Don't quit your day job AND make sure you love writing...because all those sleepless nights and aching fingers might not pay off in the way you expected.

The Greatest Love Story of All Time

Warning: Jaded alert!!!

It's the greatest love story of all time.

Nope, I'm not talking about Twilight. (Not yet, anyway.) I'm talking about Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. You know, in modern day publishing presses, R&J could be considered a YA in some aspects. After all, the main characters are 13-14. (I hope you knew that.) It's got all the angst and OMG-no-one-understands-us element. As well as the idea that LOVE is the most important thing in the entire universe. So, important, in fact, that it's worth stabbing yourself in the chest over.

I watched the modern day remake of Romeo and Juliet with Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes last night with my fiance. Back in the days of my youth (as in, high school) it was one of my favorite movies. (OMG, so romantic, right?) Last night it just pissed me off to the point where I turned to Fiance and said, "If you kill yourself because I die, I will go to hell and kick your A$$!" To which he replied with something very sweet and mollifying, "Darling, if you died I wouldn't kill myself, but I would feel pretty damn dead inside." (Romance as only a country boy can provide. P.S. I love it when he calls me darling.) Aw. Kissy kiss.

Now, I love romance as much as the next gal (devouring books by Teresa Medeiros like it's nobody's business), but it comes to a certain point where romance morphs into obsession/insanity. And I just can't tolerate that. True love exists. Soul mates exist. But true love isn't about sacrificing everything (including your life... hello, R&J; hello, Bella) for it to work. It's about compromise. It's above give and take. And, to top it off, it's about realistic expectations of yourself and the other person. So, really, the whole reason R&J ticks me off is because everything could be avoided by approaching love with maturity. Talking to the 'rents, for one. Juliet could have just let her father disown her and cast her into the streets like he threatened instead of devising this whole "fake death plan." (Which, really, would the end have been any different? She would have never spoken to her parents again.) I'm sure Romeo would haven't just left her begging on the streets, for crying out loud. And was it love or obsession that drove them to commit suicide? Romeo at the beginning of the play/movie was "in love" with Rosalind. And then he sees Juliet and BAM! Love at first sight! I don't think it was his heart that was reacting to Juliet, but another "part belonging to a man."

R&J and, yes, Twilight, give teens an unrealistic expectation of love. And sometimes I wonder if crap like this is the reason 50% of marriages fail nowadays. The moment one or the other starts thinking, OMG they totally wouldn't kill themselves/turn into a vampire for me, it's over. Love can be crazy and it can be thrilling, but lasting love isn't about the adrenaline rush of forsaking everything else for another person; it's about knowing that there will be times when you will be mad at each other, when you will wish that other person wasn't breathing down your neck all the time, when you get sick of their annoying habits...and you wouldn't want it any other way.

My prediction: If R & J hadn't done themselves in, they would have been divorced within a year. And Bella and Edward? It's going to be one freakin' long eternity (not in a good way).

Immortal Love

Since I've finally admitted that I just might be a romance writer, I've been thinking a lot about love lately. But not the beginning of love--the part of the emotion that is so focused on in most novels--but the end.

Does love really end? Or is that phrase “I don’t love you anymore” a lie? Because, once we’ve started, can we really stop loving someone?

If you look at this world--all the divorces and breakups--you can easily answer yes. But I think there is more to it than that final good-bye. Love, no matter how we fight it, lingers. And you find yourself thinking about that person. Wondering what they are doing and how they are getting on.

Yes, you can stop loving someone. But not in a day. Or a month. Maybe not even a year. Because it takes a lot to kill love. Unlike falling in love--which can happen suddenly and unexpectedly--denying love takes work. Because love does not go away on its own. It has to be driven away. Whether by cruelty, indifference or a replacement. And it walks away, slowly, never running, always looking back with a question in its eyes. “Are you sure you want me to leave?”

People who disagree--well, you're fascinating. It must be lovely to walk away from love without regret or remorse. To blithely walk away from that person whom you proclaimed was your everything. I've done it, and I cannot describe the pain. A necessary agony, yes, but one that I never want to go through again.

This question of how love fades--either quickly or slowly--intrigues me. It makes me wonder if others can get over it faster than some. How tenacious is it?

I know that love has a different face for each person. It can be a mind-consuming inferno or a slow burn, but, either way, it affects you.

I've been thinking about writing a short story, perhaps an allegory, on the issue of how to fall out of love. There's a wiki-how on it (which, if you're looking to stay in love with someone, you should probably glance at as well and make sure you DON'T do those things). Hmm. The ideas are swirling. (And, if you've guessed, it probably will be a sad story.)

Giving Jade a breather . . .

Jade is exhausted. And, honestly, so am I. I feel bad for all the things that I've put her through in such a short space of time. Chapters 21 through 25 are nothing but confrontation after confrontation. She meets up with Drake again (there's a lot of questions and answers there), and then Mikkay shows up, along with Jade's advisors (more questions, evasions, half-truths and one astonishing revelation) and then straight from there Jade goes to her parents' castle and is accused of being some kind of demon by her mother (oh, and Jade learns that Gemera, the queen, isn't really her mother. Eeek!). And then they have to of course meet with Jade's father and discuss what they are going to do about Darion (because he's started a war/genocide in the human lands) and Jade has to make some big decisions about who she is going to trust. 

::Huge breath::

So you understand why Jade needs a break (and so do I). So I'm giving her a quiet moment, where she can just be a scared, overwhelmed teenager. Of course, this moment has its purpose (developing the relationship between her and Drake). So, here it is for your breathing (and mine) pleasure. 

Mikkay's lips curled back from her pointed teeth. Glaring at him, she pulled me aside and whispered, “Whatever choices you make about the Slayer, girl—don’t give him your heart.”

With a final nod, she marched from the room. The sound of her staff striking the stone floor could be heard for a long time after she was gone. I met Drake’s eyes, and his lips curved into his half-smile.

Before he could say anything, I said, “I don’t want to talk anymore.” I sighed, running my hands through my tangled hair. “All we’ve done is talk, and the only thing I’ve learned is that I shouldn’t believe anything anyone says.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” And then his arms were around me. Warm. Strong. Comforting. Just the touch, the affection, made me want to weep. How I needed someone to lean on! Someone to share this burden with me. I should have pulled away—especially after Mikkay’s warning—but I leaned my head on his chest instead. Beneath my cheek, his heart thudded. My arms snaked around him and soon I was embracing him tightly. He didn’t mention it. His breath stirred my hair, and his fingers circled over my back. Not demanding, just giving. How long had it been since I had felt such a touch? It seemed like a century ago.

I don’t know how long we stood there, but it was too soon when Drake pulled back. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he murmured, “You should get some rest. You look exhausted.”

I nodded. I was exhausted. But what I wanted more than sleep was to forget—to forget for a moment who I was . . .and who Drake was. I looked up, staring into the honeyed depths of his eyes. He gazed down at me, and for once I thought I might have seen the scarred dragon beneath the dragonslayer veneer. The vulnerability. The need. And before I could rethink my rash decision, I pulled his mouth to mine.

I tasted his surprise. And his pleasure. It was just the faintest brush of lips at first, and then with a growl that shivered through my veins, Drake increased the pressure. His tongue slipped into my mouth and tangled with mine. Moaning, I arced my body into his. I nipped his lips. I thrilled at his gasp, his hungry groan. My hands traveled over his back, tracing the hard ridges of his muscles. His hands mimicked the movement, but dipped lower still, gripping my buttocks, grinding me into the evidence of his arousal.

Want flamed in my veins with an intensity that frightened me. Stars, how I wanted Drake! No—more than wanted—I needed him. I broke the kiss, intending to ask him to join me in my chamber, when Mikkay’s warning echoed in my head: Don’t give him your heart. And I knew, without a doubt, that if I took Drake to my bed I would end up loving him. I jerked free of his arms, backpedaling until a chair stood between us. I gripped the backrest until my knuckles turned white.

Drake, eyes blazing like the sun, took a step toward me. Confusion wrinkled his forehead. “Jade—“

“Don’t,” I rasped. “Please don’t, Drake.”

Pain iced his features. His eyes turned cold. “You’re going to let that old snake’s words keep you from me, Jade? Keep you from the little happiness that could comfort you in this dark time?”

Tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t reply.

He cursed, but then his half-smile pulled at his mouth. “Don’t worry about giving me your heart, Jade,” he said. “Because I gave you mine first.” Turning on heel, he left.

The tears flowed freely.

Ok, so maybe it isn't such a quiet moment. But at least it's a break from all the dialogue going on. :)