Every so often I am reminded that I am not like all the other children. By which, I mean that I do not suffer from the same set of confidence issues that many of my writer peers deal with. This is not to say that I don’t have my own personal set of writer neuroses, or that I have always believed my work is amazing, but simply that I am not and really have never been subject to imposter syndrome.
I suspect part of this comes out of my Open School background where I was taught to believe in my bones that I could do anything I wanted to do, if I was willing to work hard enough for it. It is worth noting that I was not taught that I would be good at something from the start, that I was inherently talented at everything, or that I wouldn’t experience a lot of failure along the way. In fact, I was taught and internalized that it would take hard work, that I would have to face a lot of failure, and that talent mattered much less than being willing to do the work. I was also taught methods for realistically assessing my progress toward my goals and the necessity of accepting responsibility when I fall short.
As I said, I’ve never had imposter syndrome. I have had any number of moments where I fell short and realized I needed to work harder to reach the next level with my writing. Then I went on to do that work and moved on and up. It’s been a hard slow climb—I’ve got five hundred rejection letters that speak to that—and there’s still a lot of room for me to grow and improve, but I think that it’s fair to say with twelve published novels and dozens of short stories under my belt at this point that I’m making my way up that wall. I’m just taking a different route than those of my peers whose issues include dealing with imposter syndrome.
There is no one right path to becoming a successful writer or artist. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.
1) Park on a level surface. Unhook safety chains and lift ball hitch lever. Lower front stand cranking shaft by flipping lever. Reset lever. Crank down front wheel until ball pops free. Move car. Crank front wheel until trailer is mostly level.
2) Open trailer door and pull the tubs out, and the bed shelf supports. Find the level in the buckets and finish leveling the trailer—note: roof of trailer is not flat and cannot be used to level the trailer.
3) Put all (four) trailer feet down by pulling them out horizontally and turning them down. To adjust heights, put your foot on the lever and the the trailer foot will release.
4) Walk around the trailer and unlatch all four corner latches.
5) Find the crank in the buckets and insert into the slot to the left of the trailer door. Start cranking clockwise(?)–it will require a bit of oomph to get it started moving. Keep cranking until it is all the way up.
6) The bed shelf supports slide into slots on the lower frame, then a right angle piece slots into the upper trailer frame.
7) Pull the beds out by the handle near the center of the bed edge. You may need to pull up a little bit to get them out. The bed supports will then slide into pressure slots under the bed. These are stiff and may require a tap with a mallet to get them in.
8) Set the trailer step by pulling up and out. Make sure it is properly seated before stepping on it!
We usually put the floor mats out too, to avoid getting too much dirt inside the trailer. Go inside the trailer and pull out the stove (skip this as stove is not currently in trailer).
9) Flip the kitchen counter upright.
10) Pull the cushions off the seats and remove the table (set it on one of the beds). Flip the seat backs up (if the beds aren’t all the way pushed out you can give them a little shove) and replace the cushions. Set the table on one of the seats or out of the way. Under the bed mattresses are the canvas over-the-bed supports.
11) The bed shelf tent support will slot onto the angled frame and you can use the support to push the angled frame up and away from you. The other side of the support fits into a circular slot on the ceiling with a button to keep it in place. You may need to push hard to get it to fit in. This should set up the frame for the beds. Repeat with the other bed.
11A) To set up the door, close the lower portion of the door. Reach up to the ceiling of the trailer and unlock (turn) the clips holding the door up.
11B) The door will swing down. Try not to hit yourself.
11C) Mate the lower and upper door halves. There is a hinged portion at the top of the door to give you some flexibility in inserting the top of the door into the lower portion.
11D) Once the two door sides are mated, push the door firmly towards the outside of the trailer until it snaps straight. Turn all the latches to hold the door in place.
11E )Lock the two halves of the door together with the steel latch.
11F) Connect the Velcro on the outside of the door to be snug all around the door frame.
12) On the outside of the trailer, go around and cover the four telescoping main supports with the canvas using the Velcro tabs.
13) Under each bed platform there are a series of buttons to hook elastic loops onto. Secure all buttons
14) Make sure all the zippers are down as far as they go. Plug any small gaps with a bit of cloth.
15) Double check footings, door connections, that bed shelves are locked in place.
16) You’re done.
To take camper down reverse the process, make sure to do ALL the steps.
Dear Writers: You should be reading your contracts at least as many times and at least as closely as you do your prose or poetry. Because that misplaced comma that has you so freaked out in your story? That’s not half as bad as the misplaced comma in your contract.
Over the past few days I’ve been going over novel contracts for a new project. I’ve been posting notes on how I think about contracts and why reading them carefully is so important. This post gathers all of that information in one place.
We (writers) tend to focus heavily on craft to the occasional detriment of the business side of publishing. Contracts are vitally important and signing a bad one can be deeply harmful to both your career and your psyche. So far, I have been lucky in that I haven’t yet hit a bad clause in a contract that I couldn’t live with or get changed. But part of that “luck” is knowing that there is a point at which walking away makes more sense than signing, and being willing to push on stuff you don’t like. This is one of the reasons why I’m glad to have an agent, and why my first criteria for an agent is contract comprehension and negotiation. It’s much easier if you’ve got an agent to do the bad cop side of things.
Without further ado some random thoughts while reading contracts:
Just finished the third pass through the new contracts. This one was quickly cross comparing clauses with previous contracts. I.e. have I signed something like this before without it blowing up. If yes, hooray! If no, lets double check that bit there. Next up, close read of the whole thing with notes. Whee.
Beyond the important who gets paid how much for what stuff, one thing the boilerplate part of a publishing contract represents is a sort of archaeological record of previous author flame-outs. Also, previous publisher flame-outs, rights grabs, etc. It’s instructive reading in that way as well.
The how have things gone wrong with this publisher’s past deals portion of the reading is especially critical for smaller houses. (Catherine Lundoff reminded me of this bit)
Finished 4th pass (close read) through new book contracts. Brain melty now, so, I’m off to kill orcs for a bit (Shadows of Mordor). Next up: Reeading critical bits (things I’ve flagged on this or previous passes). Hopefully by this time tomorrow I can actually sign the things.
Finally, in response to a question about whether my agent shouldn’t be taking care of this:
Rule 1 of agents and contracts: No matter how good your agent is and how much you trust them, it’s still YOUR contract and your work on the line.
I like and trust my agent. I’m very happy with my publishing house and I adore my editor. Verifying everything is still part of my job. If your book is truly successful, that contract could be a big part of your life for the next 20 years. If it’s a smash hit, that contract could be a part of your heirs lives 20 years after you’re dead. You want it to be solid and as favorable as you can get it.
Post Script: This time I’ve done six passes through the latest contracts. Now I just need to briefly discuss two paragraphs with my agent to verify my reading and I can sign them and get them out the door.
We lost our wonderful black cat yesterday completely unexpectedly. Laura went to get her for snuggles and found her cool and stiff. I think she might already have been dead when I took the picture of her in the Friday cat blogging immediately below this. It’s the position she was in when we found her tonight—curled up in one of her favorite spots. She was fat and grumpy and a bully who beat up the other cats, but she was also a sweetheart who loved to snuggle with her people and had a marvelous diesel engine purr. I’m in a complete state of shock as I write this. She hadn’t given any indication of poor health. A cat we loved is simply, suddenly gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it except mourn her. That’s the second cat we’ve lost in four months and I’m kind of broken about it. Please people, hug your loved ones and tell them how much they mean to you. You never know when the chance will be gone forever.
Here’s what she looked like when we brought her home.
Move over old man! (Spot passed not long after this)
She approached napping with reckless abandon.
Sprawl!
She was an explorer and too smart for her own good.
I conquered the kitchen!
I is in your drawers walking on your stuffs.
Hey there, want to bring me some treats?
I like treats.
I really really like treats!
Keep the plates coming thumb-monkey, I’m just getting started.
She possessed a certain gleeful malevolence.
If I was your size, I’d eat you. You know that right?
I am secretly the dragon Toothless.
It my chair, back off.
My puzzle my rules.
But she could also be playful.
All shall love me and despair.
She was utterly devoted to her nap partner. (Asleep on Laura’s chest)
She didn’t take shit from anybody.
Well, most of the time.
She could look grumpy in the most elegant of circumstances.
She adored the sun.
And the radiators. Here she is on a low bench I made so she and Meglet
could get up and down more easily as they got older.
She was very interested in the neighbors.
This is her watching robins build a nest above the window.
She was gluten free and knew which shelf she belonged on.
Adored the screen porch or anywhere she could be above other cats.
I am the queen of the bathroom!
Did I mention she knew how to sprawl.
Dignity was not her long suit.
Really really not her long suit.
She loved to hang out in our reading nook.
Or anyplace with defensible borders, really.
She had a talent for looking bored.
And for being comfortable in her skin.
This is how I saw her the most often—peering over the edge of a basket