A lesson learned from Snow White

If you've read the fairy tales, then you might understand the danger of comparing yourself to others. Remember that wicked queen in Snow White? She could have been a happy person if she had just quit asking that mirror who was the most beautiful of them all. I mean, really. People do get older. What did she expect?

Of course, you probably aren't one of those people who talk to mirrors and expect to get answers. And you may even have become resigned to the fact that eventually, you're going to see a few wrinkles here and there. But when it comes to your writing, what then? Do you glare at your hazy reflection on your laptop screen and ask, "Why did that writer get a book deal while I've been slaving away for six years with nothing? What's better about his writing?"

Actually, there might not be anything better about his writing, but you just fell into the trap of comparison. It's a dark hole, and no writer will ever find success in it.

The truth is, there are a myriad of reasons why any one editor or agent accepts a manuscript on any given day. Sure, you've educated yourself so that you aren't the goofball who sends fiction picture books to houses that publish adult nonfiction self-help. Yes, you've honed your craft so that you don't send in faulty work, hoping professionals will ignore your horrendous plots, shallow characters, or unrealistic dialogue. And you rewrite and run it past our critique group until it's as perfect as you can make it.

But sometimes, it isn't that your work is poor. Sometimes it's just not what that one person who is slogging through the slush pile is looking for. And sometimes, someone else's work is. That's okay. It's part of the way publishing works. If you're producing good work, someday you'll be the one freed from the slush.

So take a lesson from Snow White and avoid comparison. Enjoy the success of your writing comrades, but focus on your writing. Take heart. Your writing is as unique to you as your own finger prints. Some people will like it, and some won't, but it's born out of who you are. That's just the way it should be and the way it will be if you don't give up.

Paying the price

As we remember the sacrifices of the military men and women in our country, it's also a good time to reflect on how those sacrifices have directly affected our quality of life. Thank a veteran or remember a veteran for the freedom you have, and have a great 4th of July!

Where have you been?

And the answer to that question is, right here, actually. I've been homeschooling and drawing rather than writing. Well, that's not entirely true. I have been writing for Examiner.com and I've been working on my picture book manuscripts. After organizing them and their submission records into one handy (albeit enormous) three-ring binder, I'm pushing a few of them back out into the slush piles. It feels good.

Also, after six months of nagging doubts about my middle grade novel, I finally solved a problem that's been bugging me, so it's back to work with that now that I have it worked out in my mind.

So what have you been doing with your summer?

Sometimes you just have to get even with the inner editor

The writer was knocking out the story. She was excited because she had finally gotten past awful chapter seven and was in the zone, happy and oblivious. Then she heard a knock at the door. Not knowing better—the writer never seems to learn—she innocently opened the door with a smile on her face.

Standing before her was a figure wearing one of those fake Groucho Marx glasses-nose-and-mustache numbers to hide her true identity. The writer recognized her anyway. It was the inner editor. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun like it always is, and she had twelve yellow number two pencils sticking out of it like an intellectual porcupine. She pulled off the disguise and peered over the reading glasses sitting on the tip of her nose, carefully tapping a manicured fire-engine red finger nail on her cold, curving smile.

"I can't believe you wrote this." She snorted.

The writer felt confused. She had to pull herself out of the story-world she had been in and back to reality in order to answer. "What do you mean?"

The inner editor sashayed over to the computer and pointed a long, accusing finger. "This. I mean, apart from the obvious grammatical mistakes, it just doesn't flow. What were you thinking?"

The writer felt her creative juices begin to evaporate under the inner editor's withering gaze.

The inner editor pressed her advantage.

"There's no way you can go any further until you get this thing fixed. And as penance, you're going to have to go back and rewrite every chapter you've written so far at least ten times until I'm satisfied." She leaned against the desk, shaking her head sorrowfully. "Don't think you can get any substandard writing past me. I saw the notes you made about chapters eight and nine. The plot is implausible, the characters shallow, and the dialogue ridiculous. I doubt it's worth putting it down on paper. In fact, I'm thinking we need to junk this whole project and start over from scratch."

The writer's eyes glazed over. She was almost completely paralyzed now, caught in the evil clutches of the inner editor.

"And don't think you can blame me for any of this drivel. It's all your fault. You're the writer, after all." The inner editor smirked before checking her impeccable manicure.

The writer shook herself, and a spark appeared in her eyes. "Hey," she said. "That's right. I am the writer."

The inner editor flinched. "Now, now. I didn't mean you were in charge, or anything like that. You need me or you wouldn't ever produce a decent manuscript." She began to edge toward the door, but she wasn't quick enough. The writer grabbed her by the collar and gave her a quick shove into the hallway. The editor stumbled away, trying to regain her footing. "Hey! That is no way to treat an editor!"

"Out!" The writer was back in control. "When human resources sends you to Acapulco because you're a pest, you need to stay there until I ask for your help during rewrites." The writer began to shut the door, but paused for a moment. "Oh, and by the way. No one is going to pin writer's block on me when you're really the culprit. Scram!"

The inner editor scurried down the hallway, picking up number two pencils that had worked loose from her bun as the writer shut the door firmly behind her. She dusted her hands and took a deep breath. A sense of freedom, nay, of creativity, washed over her like a cool rain. She sat down at the keyboard, fingers poised for only a moment before they began to tap the keys.

An oldie but a goodie: Appeasing the publishing gods

Feverish drum beats echo through the sultry jungle night as natives bearing torches, like a line of wavering fireflies, make their way up the side of a rumbling volcano. The tropical breezes drift past unnoticed as they climb past trees and around boulders, each clutching a sacrifice to his or her breast.

Finally, as they attain the rim, the reverberation of seismic activity throws them to the ground. Their chief is the first to struggle to his feet.

"My fellow writers!" he thunders to the crowd, "we must appease the publishing gods. Have you your sacrifices?"

As one, their affirmative cry rises over the grumble of the volcano.

"And are they first drafts, unedited and pure in their original form, printed on pastel paper in colored inks so they are sure to get the attention of an editor?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Are you certain you have made no attempt whatever to research which publishers might be interested in your genre or type of writing?"

"Yes!" The natives are in a wild frenzy by now, waving their manuscripts over their heads.

"It is time!" shrieks the chief. "Throw your sacrifices into the volcano. The publishing gods must be appeased!"

In a cascade of colorful papers completely lacking sufficiently postaged self-addressed stamped envelopes for return responses, the manuscripts plunge into the fiery depths where they are incinerated before they can touch the molten maelstrom below. A wailing keen fills the darkness as the natives hurry down into their jungle huts.

"Do you think we'll hear anything this time?" one native whispers to his neighbor.

"Absolutely. This time I added a handwritten note about how my kids and wife loved my story. I'm guessing they'll get back to me in less than two weeks. By the way, I'm looking for an illustrator for my picture book. Can you recommend anyone?"

New Blog/Website

I am so excited about my new website. This new WordPress site is fun because it is easy (at this point). It combines all the things I love: photography, writing, music and video! And, it is making my walk to work much more interesting because now that I have my cellphone camera, I can document cool and interesting things every day. I don't seem to have a lot of words to say about them, yet, but I am enjoying looking at my world in a fresh new way!

LauraKnoerr.com -- the website

Book review of 'Phillipa Knickerbocker Glory and the Ice Cream Castle'

Saturdays hold a special lure for Phillipa, for they are the day on which her mum always makes her a special ice cream treat called a Knickerbocker Glory. What girl wouldn't like giant glasses loaded with ice cream, sprinkles, and fruit?

Phillipa loves Knickerbocker Glories so much that she's sure she could eat them every day, but one Saturday when she closes her eyes to savor the creamy goodness on her tongue, she gets a surprise that she hasn't bargained for. Sheopens her eyes to find herself in a strange, sticky tunnel which leads to a magical land complete with castles and a queen who wants Phillipa's help in tasting ice cream.

Phillipa agrees to do the queen's bidding, but as flavor after flavor pours out of the ice cream making machine, will Phillipa finally discover that, as much as she loves ice cream, there is such a thing as too much?

Phillipa Knickerbocker Glory and the Ice Cream Castle is a self-published book by new UK author Sarahjane Funnell. A nicely bound paperback containing colorful illustrations by Amie Bilsby, Sarahjane's book will appeal to the younger girl who loves ice cream, castles, and a little fantasy for good measure. Visit Sarahjane's website for more information about her book or to download Phillipa Knickerbocker Glory coloring pages, recipes, and desktop images.

A copy of this book was provided by the author for this review. There was no compensation received for this review, and the opinions expressed, whether positive or negative, are my own.