Write What You Mean and Mean What You Write

“A simple concept, one would think.”

Spring 2025

I grew up in an era when human contact was essential at the beginning of any relationship when meeting new people at school, at work, or in a social setting. There was no Tinder, Snapchat, LinkedIn, Facebook, or Insta to log into and monitor within the hours of each day.

I did watch closely—more out of curiosity than anything else—as my adult children navigated their own social and professional lives through these various platforms, especially during the pandemic.

I remember one conversation with my kids that started off with this question; “Is it considered cheating if you snap chat with a person while dating someone else?” I chewed on this for a while following our debate. Way back when I was dating, if my boyfriend was reaching out to other girls during our courtship to “check in” or “converse”—was that not cheating? The conclusion to our deep discussion was that we all agreed—to disagree—that the world we lived in today is a whole new social and professional universe.

When searching then researching literary agents, it suddenly dawned on me that this must be what it was like to online date. While reading bios and studying the faces of potential literary agents to partner up with. Recalling one agent who declared to love to cook while both her cats watched—which I thought an odd attribute to list for any agent seeking to sign on new clients.

When I finally “came out” of the literary closet and admitted my dream of becoming a writer to anyone who would listen, I likened it to announcing that I was pregnant. My success, in their eyes, would solely depend on me producing a book/a baby to hand to over to them. No acknowledgement given for the countless hours of writing, editing, and marketing. It would be the book at the end of that very arduous gestational period that would prove that I am, in fact, a writer.

Looking back to September 2024, I could now clearly see that it was birthing my book and my own vanity that was the real driving force in signing on with a publisher over twenty-five hundred kilometers away and in another country.

I knew that there would be relationship challenges. I understood that open communication was the key to any long-distance relationship, and that miscommunication, deliberate or not, is the leading cause of relationship death. (think Romeo and Juliette.) My rule of thumb has always been “Say what you mean and mean what you say”. A concept I have faithfully lived by, which has been the cause (my mouth) for the demise of many of my past relationships, both professionally and personally.

On their website, their mission statement emphasizes building personal relationships with a vanity of authors worldwide, across a range of many genres. In my personal experience legally framed within the four corners of that contract—my author’s worth—began with the financial investment I was willing to contribute to our relationship. Coming to this bottom line conclusion when important marketing decisions—my book’s pricing, discounts offered, and the prerelease date—were made with no collaboration or input from the author of The Deafening Sound of Sorrow. Even more baffling was the dictated official release date of my debut book from the powers that be. 

I found myself right back in that jungle! My back up, my hands gripping both hips, my head turned slightly to see that key performance target clearly stamped on my back = Book Sales. Cloaked under that publisher’s shadow while waiting further direction, via email, from them on what I was contractually expected to do next. Once again having to readjust my footing to that all too familiar “Know My Place” stance. A stance I knew well from muscle memory after surviving that corporate jungle. Having no other choice but to move towards that rock, with that ever present hard place lingering behind me. 

From a book sales standpoint, releasing The Deafening Sound of Sorrow on the anniversary of Kerrie’s murder may have made “marketing common sense.” But it literary contradicted the very creative purpose of why I wrote my book: to change the narrative surrounding my friends horrific and brutal murder, by turning the focus away from the crime, and steer it more towards Kerrie’s beautiful memory, the friends we shared, and the hope for a better tomorrow she inspired in others. 

I don’t begrudge any corporation for trying to improve its bottom line. But in today’s socially detached and impersonal world, where honest communication and open collaboration are key elements in building and maintaining any relationship, writers have to be oh so very cautious with who they climb into literary bed with. 

Wannabe writers don’t have the luxury of just writing—we are forced to diligently vet every publisher and literary agent. Having to finely comb through every marketing scam, contractual word written, and sales pitch spoken, searching for those deliberately misleading, cleverly hidden legal meanings. It’s no wonder so many wannabe writers are overwhelmed—some even giving up—having to always be on guard, protecting themselves against those false marketers, scammers, and those oh so very clever vanity presses disguised as traditional/hybrid publishers.

Throughout my blog series, what I’ve been trying to honestly point out—or write out—is what many people don’t “get” about declaring oneself a wannabe writer seeking publication: it’s a lonely occupation with very few rewards and less success. The many hours of blood, sweat, and—yes—sometimes tears poured into writing doesn’t necessarily guarantee the dream payoff. Add to that the constant emotional effort required to rebuild self-confidence, keep self-doubt at bay, and push forward after every setback. 

It takes a unique kind of persistence and resilience for any wannabe writer to simply just keep writing.

The many many lessons I learned over the past year—entirely on my own—holding myself steady (and, once again, keeping my mouth shut) while making my way through those tangled vines of the publishing jungle has been well worth the knowledge and experience I gained—mapping out the much different path I plan to take when publishing Cedar & Snow.

Regardless of how many copies of The Deafening Sound of Sorrow are sold, I will write this: I will keep doing what I have always loved to do: Just Write and..,

I mean it.

Coming up next: Everything Happens for a Reason (spoiler alert: It truly does.)