Cross-posted from my personal blog)
So over on twitter, they often have what they call #writechat.
Basically, it’s like a chat room. They were talking about the difference between an author and writer.
One tweet, can’t remember the exact words, but it was that you’re an author once you’re published. Before that, you’re a writer.
This is where opinion is going to come into play, and a lot of it will be personal preference, I think.
Now people can call me an author…and I don’t care. I am, there’s no reason saying other wise.
But if somebody asks me what I do? I’m a writer.
When I sit down to work, I’m writing a story. I’m not authoring. “Authoring”, if you think about, seriously, doesn’t that sound kind of stodgy…pretentious? Um…it certainly doesn’t sound like what I’m doing when I write, IMO. I’m writing, and unless I’m banging a character’s head against a brick wall, I’m having fun. I’m just writing…and I’m a writer.
Here’s the thing… for me, getting hung up on what label somebody applies to me, or any other group of writers, is a waste of time. This is just my opinion, of course. Nobody has to agree. But why worry on the label? There are books to be written. Published, unpublished, there are always books to be written. Published, unpublished, you can always improve your craft. Published, unpublished, you can always seek to improve.
The book matters more than the label… or at least, I think it should…
And in other news… I’ve got a book out… BROKEN
Quinn Rafferty is working as a bounty hunter and bail bondsman in St. Louis when a new neighbor catches his eye. He’s tempted by her beauty—but he knows from experience that anyone desperate enough to live in his building is damaged goods. Besides, he has his own soul to mend before he can worry about anyone else.
Sara Davis is on the run, but not for the usual reasons a woman goes on the lam. She’s not an abused wife, and she’s not a criminal. But she does have a plan for her future. And as much as she finds herself attracted to her gruff, tough neighbor, she can’t risk telling him the secrets she’s hiding. There’s just too much at stake.
Driven to desire…
But Quinn must get closer to Sara when she turns out to be the target of his new missing persons case, and he discovers that there is something more complex and dangerous to her than he thought. Now, both Quinn and Sara will have to expose their true feelings—as well as their fragile hearts—if they hope their love will survive…
He opened the door—
And stopped dead in his tracks as somebody all but fell into his arms. Somebody…a woman. And not Theresa.
He caught her just above her elbows, automatically steadying her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft and low.
Then she lifted her face and Quinn found himself gazing into the biggest, brownest eyes he’d ever seen in his life. Feeling a little dazed, he studied her face while she stammered out another apology.
Quinn barely heard it.
He was too busy staring at her mouth. A very pretty mouth, a cupid’s bow mouth slicked with deep, vibrant red. Under his hands, he could feel silken smooth skin and unable to resist, he stroked a thumb along her inner arm.
Her skin was soft, soft and warm. He was also pretty sure she had the creamiest, most flawless skin imaginable. Her shoulder-length hair was a shade caught between blonde and brown, nondescript, but for some reason, he found himself thinking about tangling his fingers in that hair and holding her head still while he kissed that red-slicked mouth.
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