I became a doctor because I loved science and wanted to save the
world. Not because I enjoyed dressing up, was good at public speaking or
even had nominal social graces.
I was the geek girl at the front of the class in elementary
school, the charter member of the band club in high school, and as nerdy in
college as I was in high school. I’m sure you’ve seen my type and so can
understand how I loathed this yearly night of torture.
The other ladies at the table were all in their evening
gown regalia. I had been very careful to not wear the same dress by accident or
repeat a dress from a few years before. Such an accident could lead to months
of embarrassment. My heels were right and reasonably comfortable and I’d even
managed to stay upright as I walked in. My hair was still decent after a long
day of call and for once, even my make-up fit in with the evening’s format. And
to make the night even smoother, I’d as of yet to make a Star trek
joke or snort when I laughed. I was feeling optimistic. And that’s when it
happened.
Dr. Stiff, the cardiologist, (the names have been changed for
the sake of privacy) leaned slightly in my direction and said. “Dr. Atha, I’ve
been told you dabble in writing.” He smiled politely and waited for my
response.
I could feel the corners of my mouth lift at his remark. I
smiled nervously and excitedly at the same time. I couldn’t help it. The mere
mention of writing makes me giddy! But then I realized the inevitable. I
started to sweat. I gripped the stem of my wine glass tightly in my fingers. I
became mildly tachycardic. My breathing picked up.
“Yes. I write a little in my free time,” I answered
but then I broke eye contact and studied the band. I looked over his head
and waved to someone I didn’t even know at the back of the room. They raised
their eyebrows and smiled hesitantly but politely waved back. The
room was loud and I desperately hoped Dr. Stiff would drop it and not disturb
the rest of the conversation going on at our table. I signaled the waiter
for another glass of the bubbly.
“What you do you write about? Do you have a pen name?” He asked as I cursed the innate curiosity of cardiologists around the world.
The waiter didn’t come and my glass remained empty. I reached
for my husband’s glass. After all, he didn’t need it as bad as I did. The CEO
of the hospital was looking at me now and two of the wives were waiting
expectantly as well. The nun had leaned forward to listen better. The pit of my
stomach dropped to my knees.
Avoidance wasn’t possible. I was trapped.
I took one more sip of the champagne and cleared my throat.
“Vampires,” I say. And then my cheeks flamed and all the air conditioning in
the world wouldn’t have lessened the deep red that colored my face.
‘Doctors do not write about vampires,’ my mother had told me.
‘This is not a good career decision.’ Her words burned in my ears.
I was mentally pleading with the band to play louder. I
was beseeching the Good Lord for help. Knock the electricity out! I begged. Let
some drunken dancer fall! I prayed internally. Desperately, I glanced towards
my husband but his mouth was full of salad and he’s a firm believer
in the ‘chew each bite 32 times club.’ I could expect no help from him.
My best friend, another vampire lover and doctor
but with far more suave than myself, was seated next to the CEO. He had
strategically set by her with the hopes of recruiting her to our group. I
glanced desperately her way, mentally wishing her to fake a seizure, but her
expression looked more like the proverbial deer in the headlights. I was on my
own.
“What was that?” Dr. Stiff repeated, his hand to his ear.
I leaned forward and whispered it again. “Vampires.”
The middle-aged cardiologist raised his eyebrows and shook his
head at me. He still hadn’t gotten it. Perhaps he was in denial.
“Vampires,” I speak louder this time. “I write vampire novels.”
Just my luck, the band ended their riff at that exact moment and
my voice broadcasted across our entire section. Dr. Stiff stared at me
wordlessly, shocked clear down to his plaid underpants. I could almost see his
brain spinning as he wondered if he’d heard me correctly. Looking quizzically
at his wife, she nodded in affirmation and turned her back to the table,
finding a sudden and new interest in the band but not before I could
see the smirk on her face.
“Like Twilight?” the neurosurgeon next to me questioned. “My
twelve year old daughter loved Twilight. I guess there’s probably a lot of that
stuff out there right now.”
“Not exactly like Twilight,” I said. “More Stephen
King-ish or Anne Rice-ish,” I offered.
“Maybe I’ll buy a copy for my daughter. She loves all this
vampire stuff,” he answered back obviously not hearing what I was
saying.
The entire table froze, their forks and spoons held eerily in midair. The nun’s hand grazed her Crucifix.“Oh. No. Um. My stuff isn’t really appropriate for twelve year olds.” I choked out a little too loudly. The
“You mean it’s for adults?” he questioned.
Now I really had their attention. Even the next table over was
listening in. Everyone including Dr. Stiff’s wife, Ima Stiff, was
looking at me incredulously. The band was only a distant buzzing in the
background. My head was spinning. My blood pressure was at stroke level and my
husband was consuming his salad at a rate of 5 chews per mouthful. His face was
crimson with the effort.
“Yeah,” I stammered. “I was looking for realism. What I was
really trying to do was to convey the sheer terror of meeting a vampire face to
face...”
“Is there a lot of violence?” the good doctor interrupted.
“It’s a horror story, so yeah,” I answered.
“And a LOT of sex,” my progressively inebriated friend across
the table piped up. The stress had finally gotten to her. I forgave her
instantly knowing she was trying to help.
The occupants of the table were still staring at me as if I had
sprouted black wings from my back and was about to begin levitating when my
husband pulled me to my feet and motioned to the dance floor. He just had to
dance the cha-cha, he explained to the table. “We love the cha-cha,” he said
again as I, red-faced and sweaty, smiled nervously to the table. And then we
escaped onto the dance floor and put the entire experience to our backs.
I’d like to say we went back to the table after our awkward
dance interpretation ended but I’d be lying. Instead, we cha-cha’ed to
the other end of the dance floor and escaped out a side entrance. We didn’t
even bother to stop and get my wrap. Instead, I texted my friend to grab it for
me.
Well okay, I embellished the story a little. We really didn’t
cha-cha. It was more like a drunken two step mixed with a waltz that got us out
the door but I’m sure you get the picture.
That was a year ago and luckily, I still have a job at the
ultra-conservative Catholic hospital where I’m employed. The nuns look awry
when I pass them in the hospital but otherwise, I’ve suffered only
the occasional laughter behind closing doors and the too large smiles
when someone mentions my writing career like its really funny joke.
The point, you ask?
If you’re a struggling writer (like me) and haven’t, as of yet,
managed to land a major publishing deal (like me), you are probably still
working. And even more likely, you are working in an environment where being a
little different (such as being a writer at all) sticks out like a sore thumb.
Write paranormal romance or horror? Odds are you might even be considered
strange!
And I can nearly promise you that somewhere and at some time,
someone is going to bring up your writing when you least expect it.
So you’ve got to learn to coexist in the real world and the
writing world. This co-existing is very difficult for emerging authors in part
because he or she is dependent at first on the local support that they receive
from family and friends. Their first sales are usually from people they know
and it is those sales that begin to boost you up in the ratings on sites like
Amazon and other e-book sites. So how do you maintain some type of professional
distance at work and still manage to engage the people you know?
Here are a few pointers
from my own experiences:
- Get
a pen name.
It really does help and I personally don’t think it’s a cop out.
I’m not selling enough books to support myself yet so I still have to work.
Most likely you will too. If you have a professional career and you write on
taboo subjects, it will help to keep your two worlds separate. Imagine someone
being treated for cancer and they Google the doctor’s name only to find links
to vampire erotica or horror stories. I think it’s acceptable to want to keep
these different parts of your life separate. It doesn’t mean you’re ashamed of
your second career or of your writing, only that you respect your current
employer enough not to bring any undue criticism onto their business
as well.
The point of a pen name in today’s world is so that it cannot be
traced back to you and in the age of Google that can be very difficult. I’ve
relaxed my standards a little these days as I’ve grown accustomed to being
connected at work to my writing but if you choose your name
correctly, it can be done. Set down at the computer when you’ve
chosen a suitable name and Google the name every way you can think of. Google
it with the full pen name and then with just the initials. Then try it with the
pen name and half of your real name. Type in every combination you can think of
and see if you are able to trace it back to yourself.
- Don’t
ask your co-workers to be your beta readers.
It puts them in a difficult position. These men and women have
to work with you routinely. It’s not their job to tell you that your latest literary
work is not up to your usual par. Even worse, they may tell you the work
is good when, in fact, it is not. That is a travesty! I can promise you
it is much better to find out your writing is only so-so before it hits the
press than afterwards. Find true beta readers who do not know you and are
impartial. In my experience, there are many such readers on a variety of
networking sites who would be willing to help you. Start by setting up an
author Facebook page and forming a circle of readers who are interested and
willing to help.
- Find
some friends apart from your work environment who can appreciate your
outside interests.
As I mentioned before, I work in a Catholic hospital as
a physician and most of my fellow doctors have absolutely no interest
in the paranormal. I can see their eyes glazing over when I start talking about
my research into vampire lore. Boring them with such details will
only widen a gap that I don’t want to exist. So I save my vampire
discussions for the paranormal readers that I’ve met at book signings and other
functions.
- Join
some writing groups or a book club in your area.
Try to find a local successful author that you can connect with.
If nothing else, their success will inspire you and inspiration is a commodity
you can’t live without if you’re going to try to break into the writing world.
If you’re a romance writer, join a romance writing club. Don’t join a
horror novel club if you write romance and vice versa. If you write
horror, you will not likely be well received in a romance group. It’s possible
that the confounding stares could scar you for life. I made that mistake once
and it was ugly!
Writing clubs are a great place to find beta readers who have an
interest in your genre. They know what works in that genre and what doesn’t. A
few authors are able to cross genres but it’s truly hard to do,
especially when you are first starting out.
- Don’t
pimp your books out to your co-workers.
No one likes high pressured sales and no one enjoys
feeling obligated to read a book that they would never normally read just
because they know you. If a co-worker asks about your work, happily give them
the names of your books and where to find them but then resist the
urge to ask them if they got your book and if they liked it. Trust me; you do
not want to know if they didn’t!
And when all of the above fail to keep your writing
career and the career that actually pays the bills separate and it
will fail at times, try the following:
Be confidant in what you wrote and take pride in your
accomplishments! Nearly everyone thinks to write a book at some point in
their life but most people never take the time to do so.
If someone makes a snarky remark or laughs at your attempts at
writing (and they will), just smile politely and walk away. It will only add to
your air of mystery! Grow a really thick skin. Remember, you’re a writer.
You’re supposed to be a little odd!
About DL Atha:
DL Atha, having the good fortune to have been raised in rural
western Arkansas, resides there still with her husband and three
children where together they enjoy the farm life.
She earned her MD in 1999, and currently enjoys the practice of hospital
medicine and wound care which she performs full time in a nearby town.
She is currently working on the sequel to Blood Reaction.
For the Sake of Revenge was her first venture into non-medical fiction.
A few of her favorite things are chocolate, anything old
but especially old houses, gardening, and horses.
Her least favorite things are getting up early, anything that happens before
nine a.m. and constricting clothing.
Get in touch with DL
ATHA:
https://twitter.com/DLAtha2
http://bookblogs.ning.com/profile/DLAtha
https://www.facebook.com/ForTheSakeOfRevengedlatha
Purchase DL
ATHA's books:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/dlatha
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4877830.D_L_Atha
http://www.amazon.com/DL-Atha/e/B005018RJU/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1408311205&sr=8-1
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/blood-reaction-d-l-atha/1101002201?ean=9780979335600
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