Category Archives: The Never Prayer

My Completely UNAUTHORIZED Interview With Charlaine Harris

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To steal from Wikipedia: Charlaine Harris is a New York Times bestselling author who has been writing mysteries for over twenty years.

She is big time.

If you don’t know who Charlaine Harris is, either you’ve been in prison, in the hole, for years on end ala Papillion, or you only watch PBS documentaries on badgers. Not even the honey badger, just badgers.

 

Charlaine Harris penned the Sookie Stackhouse series of wonderful, southern vampire books that HBO turned into the True Blood series. But even before Sookie hit like a tsunami, Charlaine was writing books and books and books.

I talked with her at the 2012 Romantic Times Book Lovers Convention and she was wonderful and kind and supportive. This was the question:

Aaron: Charlaine, how do I as a writer handle the emotional storms of writing? How can I handle the ups and downs?

And her answer changed my life. It took a little while to sink in, but when it sunk in, it hardened into concrete. Quick-dry cemented, right down into the cracks and crevices of my soul. Charlaine said you have to believe in your story and your characters and you have to share that with the world.

It is my job to write my story and to share it. Not sell books, not get a huge publisher and make millions, though that certainly would be nice, but that’s not what this game is about. My job is to write a quality story with memorable characters and share it with the world.

I know what you are thinking. Duh. But it’s not just duh, nope. When the fear hits, when the rejections all dump on us like acid rain, if I can remember my primary purpose, I can weather those storms.

Because this adventure is not about me. It’s not about Aaron Ritchey. It’s about my story and my voice and my characters. I’m not here to sell me. Selling me is frightening because, dude, I am damaged goods. I’m the 1978 Dodge Dart rusted out.

But my story, my characters, Lena Marquez, the heroine of The Never Prayer, she’s tough, she’s fragile, she’s forced into impossible situations, and yet she emerges strong and healed and good. I’m here to share her story with as many people as I can. Not everyone will be interested, and that’s fine. But those that do connect with her, they will emerge from my book, hopefully a little more strong, a little more healed, a little better.

Thank you so much, Charlaine, for talking with me. And here is a link to her Amazon page. She is a woman with a generous heart.

My Dirty, Twisted, Nasty Secret About The Writer’s Life

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Writers have a hard time with reality. I mean, why do you think we spend our time in other worlds, with other people, doing things that aren’t real at all?

Do you know why? Because reality is hard. Reality is so, so, so…real. Like my daughter. To get her to eat, we gave her dipping sauces. Do you know what she said? She said, “Dipping sauces are too dippy.”

Reality. Too dippy.

A week ago, (my book is one week old!) I had a huge book launch, sold out of books, lived the dream. Me. Published. With an ISBN of my very own that I will tattoo onto my flesh. Everyone saying, “You must be so excited, so proud, so satisfied, to have accomplished this great thing.”

I nod. I agree. On this blog, look at the pictures of me, signing books, living the dream.

 

 

 

 

 

I look happy and ecstatic, don’t I? I loved all the people, all of my friends, all of my fellow writers and readers living the dream of a book getting published. Because any book that gets published is a miracle. I look happy in those pictures because I love the people in my life, and most times, they love me back.

But do you know the truth?

All of those things; praise, signings, book launches, tattooed ISBNs on pale skin. All of those things are great, good, wonderful.

But they aren’t the best part of writing. In a very real sense, they are a distraction. The best part of writing I do alone. And there is no praise, there are no claps on the back, nothing but me and the words and the story and the characters.

Because in order to have the book signings and launches and praise be at a level that would truly satisfy me, I would have to be standing in the Coliseum in Rome, Italy, surrounded by the literati of our age, throwing roses and money and offers of midnight trysts.

Like I said, I have a hard time with reality because I expect reality to match what I can imagine. And it rarely does.

But when the writing is good, and I mean, toe-curling, keyboard-smoking, Metallica-pounding good, that is when the writing is worth the effort and I tiptoe into heaven.

The only reward for writing is writing. And on some days, that is more than enough. And reality, or my version of it, is sublime.

Hey all, I have some flash fiction over at a fellow Crescent Moon Press’ blog.  Come check it out!  It’s about a broken girl and her undead step father.  And one good thing.

http://kateevangelistarandr.blogspot.com/2012/04/page-one-one-good-thing-by-aaron.html

Heavenly Fridays – The Angels That Helped Me Get Published

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My book is one day old today. I have a newborn. And yes, the work, oh Lord, the work, but I get to sleep in one long six-hour chunk. My human newborn babies never let me sleep that long.

 

 

The Never Prayer has a page for acknowledgements, but of course I couldn’t get everyone in there. I got some, but not all.

So this post, on Heavenly Friday, is for the angels who helped me get a book published, and in this hard, old world, getting a book published, any book, is a miracle. And it takes angels to git ‘r done.

First off, since I love angels who are atheists, I have to thank my publicist, Bree Ervin. She had faith in the book, and she had faith in me, and all along, I thought she was my Plan B for publicity. Nope, she is Plan A. Ain’t got no other plan but her.

I thanked Chris Devlin in the acknowledgements, but I gotta thank her again. Chris pulled double-duty, first as my inspiration to query, then as my loyal, dogged, Girl Friday who helped me with the day-to-day madness of trying to birth a book. She is part angel, part mid-wife, all woman. Yes, she gets dual thanks because she did twice the work.

My daughters, Asha and Ella. They were angels of death. But in a good way. They made me die to my old self. They took away all my time so I had to prioritize. I couldn’t lay around watching bad movies (Curly Sue) any more. Fatherhood carved away all of the distractions and focused me, tempered me like steel. Angels are messengers from God and my daughters brought the message of who I really am.

Becky Hodgkins. I had not queried a single agent and I had been writing for ten years, and I told Becky I was going to give up. And she said words that were sent by God. Hard words. Another angel of death. “Aaron, don’t quit without trying.” ‘Trying’ in the writing business means writing and marketing and seeking publication for a lifetime. Becky laid down a life sentence. But the words of God are not supposed to be easy. They are supposed to be true. And her words rang with Divine truth.

The next angels that helped me, well, these angels meet in bars on Tuesday nights and are more devils than angels, really. And yet, they have guided me, those devils. Jeanne C. Stein, Mario Acevedo, Warren Hammond, Tamra Monahan, Terry Wright, Tom and Margie Lawson – thanks for the devilish advice delivered on the breath of angels.

Lastly, the archangel in my life, my wife Laura. Again, I was going to give up, and she said more words ordained by God. She told me I lived most of my life in fantasy. And that writing, getting published, was a very real thing, the most real thing I could do. Yes, it would be scary. Yes, it would be hard. But it would be real.

Ain’t nothin’ like the real thing, baby. Thanks Laura. And thank you to all of my angels out there.