We’ve heard it said (we’ve even said it ourselves): great writers write because they can’t help it, to tame the screaming muse. They’d rather write than do anything else in the world. Charles Dickens could write while entertaining dinner guests. Stephen King can apparently write while sleeping (no doubt having nightmares). Scott Turow wrote his first book while acing Harvard Law School, and his second book on a Chicago commuter train while starting a family and building a law career. These are people whose muses wouldn’t shut up.

Then there are the rest of us.

Once upon a time, Kathi had a nice career working for publishers as an author escort. Escorts handle the local logistics of author tours, guiding tired scribes through media appearances and book signings. Kathi—whose first love was music—made a name for herself as the escort with the best mix tapes in the days before downloads. A special favorite of baby-boomer authors, she began hearing stories of their abandoned dreams in former bands. She sent a fax to a dozen writers she especially liked, inviting them to join her in playing a rock & roll show to raise money for charity at a major book convention. They all said yes, and the Rock Bottom Remainders (a band that now includes Dave Barry, Stephen King, Scott Turow, Amy Tan, Mitch Albom, Ridley Pearson, Roy Blount, Jr., Greg Iles, Sam Barry, and Charles Dickens—none of whom knew each other before the first rehearsal) are still together eighteen years later.

A few years later, the Remainders were invited to play at a snooty writers’ conference—let’s call it Bluenose Ridge Author’s Retreat. The band showed up in time for a lavish welcome party—but only the “authors” were invited. So Kathi, the organizer of the band, sat in her room while her band mates were feted. It sucked. “This sucks,” she thought, only in more colorful, literary language. “If I have enough imagination to start this band, I have enough imagination to write a novel.” So she did.

Sam was, shall we say, “not a good student” when he was younger. Along the way he was politely asked to leave his high school—and then there were the arrests . . .

For many years the thing that motivated Sam to accomplish his goals, including writing and getting published, was one of the great motivators of all time: the imagined high school reunion scene. You know the one: you walk in and everyone turns, amazed to see you now that you are important, famous, rich, and noble beyond compare. Not to mention the beautiful woman on your arm. In keeping with his earlier pattern of not going to class, Sam never actually attended any of his high school reunions. No matter. The motivation was imagining the scene. Imagination is a powerful force.

Most of us, including the illustrious Dickens, King, and Turow, have experienced rejection and put-downs, real and imagined, deserved or undeserved. Spite, anger, or proving a point at your high school reunion may not be the most positive motivation for writing and striving to get published, but boy oh boy, it’s amazing how much energy these feelings can provide. The good news is that if you do get published, (and also get some helpful psychotherapy), you can move on to more constructive and positive incentives for your work . . . like writing your second book.

For most of us, the writing doesn’t follow the muse; it’s the other way around. So sit down and start writing. Once you’re on a roll, the muse will appear. Unlike putting on a bad rock & roll show (and we’ve put on quite a few by now), you don’t have to let anyone see your work until you are ready, so—unlike the Rock Bottom Remainders—you don’t have to worry about looking foolish in the eyes of the world. One thing we can promise is this: your book will never get finished if you don’t start it. And then what will you say to everyone at the high school reunion? – Kathi and Sam

This was the question written in the subject line of the long-awaited email I received two years ago from my soon-to-be editor.  “Long-awaited” because I had first developed a relationship with Sheila Barry, then the editor-in-chief of Kids Can Press, over six years earlier.  “Soon-to-be” because she was letting me know that Kids Can was going to offer me a four-book contract for my children’s book series about a girl who loves words.

“Daisy’s Perfect Word” is a wonderful culmination of my long journey.  My desire to write children’s books began when I was in third grade, thanks to an amazing school librarian who introduced her students not just to books but also to the authors who wrote them.  I thought it was incredible to be able to create a world in which a child could lose him or herself.

Although I always loved making up stories, as a young adult I gravitated to the world of journalism, which was fast paced and exciting.  And at the point in my life, even though fiction intrigued me, I wasn’t at all sure that I had any talent for it.

I was fortunate to work as a news assistant in the Washington, D.C. bureau of the The New York Times and then worked for several different papers as a reporter.  This training definitely taught me about the power of words – a theme of my books – but also about the importance of developing personal connections.  Reporters know that you always get better information if you interview someone in person.  If that’s not possible, the next best option is to talk over the phone.  Electronic communication is the last choice, because you can’t hear the pauses, inflections, hesitations or enthusiasm through the computer.

I mention this because that first long-ago contact with Sheila resulted in the most lovely rejection letter, in which she let me know what she liked about the manuscript I had submitted and what needed some work.  She offered to chat with me via email or by phone.  I jumped on the opening and told her I would love to set up a time to talk.  And we did.  She asked me to send her more stories.  And, of course, I did that too.

But it still took years before we would be able to work together – years in which I compiled a nice stack of rejection letters from other publishers but also years in which I learned more about writing for children by being part of a wonderful writing group and by raising three daughters of my own.

During this period, of writing and waiting, it helped to have two stalwart cheerleaders.  The first is my friend Ruth, an accomplished children’s book author, who invited me into her writing group and who became a mentor.  She gives great advice, tells me when something is good and when it’s not, and told me I would be published some day.   The second is my husband, Dan, who always believed we would one day be holding a book with my name on the cover.

Finally, after staying in touch for many years, I submitted a picture-book manuscript to Sheila.  After mulling it a while, she wrote me to say, “I think it wants to be a chapter book.”  Because I trusted her opinion, I decided to try rewriting it as a chapter book and found that I loved the freedom to expand the story and characters.

Around the same time, I went to a writing conference and heard a successful children’s book author say that she always thought in terms of how a singular book could work as a series.  So I tried that, too.  I submitted my revised story as an early chapter book, with eight additional ideas for books that could follow.  Kids Can ended up buying four.  Along with benefiting from Sheila’s careful and thoughtful editing, I also was paired with a fabulous illustrator and a wonderful art director, both of whom contributed hugely in making my book so appealing.

I know that my story is unusual in that I didn’t have an agent help me get my contract but instead had a wonderful editor-in-chief and an experienced children’s book author to guide my journey.  I do believe there are other would-be mentors out there who want to help and who will reach out if they see someone promising.  Always reach back and engage.  Make that phone call, follow up on any interest an editor or more experienced colleague shows, submit more stories, go to that conference and take full advantage of any openings you get.  If someone will take the time to meet with you in person or to talk to you on the phone, do it.  It just may result in “Champagne?” – Sandra

I soothed myself for a moment thinking of films I’ve loved that were based on novels written by women, starting with “To Kill a Mockingbird” (even if the book’s female lead was thrown over for her father) and the entire Jane Austen ouvre.

(PLEASE list your favorites in the comments, so I can add them to my tbw list.)

Then I started wondering why women authors are often ignored in the film-making world. The obvious answer would be commercial viability, but the Twilight series movies by Stephanie Meyer grossed over 2.5 BILLION dollars according to The Numbers, and The Hunger Games grossed $250 million in its first 10 days, the highest ever for a non-sequel film, if Hollywood Reporter is to be believed.

Part of the problem, of course, is that women are dramatically underrepresented among the cadre of those deciding what films ought to be made, and which will be considered for awards. Only 3.6% of directors, 13% of writers, and 21.6% of producers of American films are women. At this years Cannes there is not a single film directed by a woman in competition, for the second time in three years. In the 64 years of the Festival, Jane Campion is the only woman ever awarded the Palme D’Or. For “The Piano.” Almost two decades ago.

So I don’t often do this, but I clicked through and signed a petition created by Women and Hollywood calling for an industry-wide discussion about the underrepresentation of women in film. Signing puts me in the company of Gillian Armstrong, the award-winning director of “Little Women” and “Charlotte Gray” – both based on novels written by women. Of Susanna White, director of the Emmy-nominated “Jane Eyre” BBC miniseries. Delia Ephron. Debra Zimmerman. Gloria Steinem. Care to join us?

And do share in the comments here which woman-written books made into movies you’ve most enjoyed! – Meg

The things that can happen when we go down different paths.

My debut novel, Daughters Who Walk This Path, really began life as a short poem I wrote in June 2009. That poem was titled Silence Speaks. At the time, my day job was as a newly minted Social Worker in child protection services. The role guaranteed a constant exposure to heart-wrenching stories of child sexual abuse and I struggled to fall and stay asleep. Working on the novel every night, sometimes through the night, became my outlet. This is why I have often said that in the beginning, I really wrote the novel for me.

The truth was that prior to this time, writing a novel had not been on my list of things to do. I did love words since I became an avid reader at a young age and started writing mostly autobiographical poems when I was twelve. But as far as I was concerned, life had other plans for me.

Over the course of eight months, the novel grew from scribbles of random thoughts to a manuscript I shared with a few close friends. Their encouraging words spurred me on to work on it some more and a year later, I had a complete manuscript. I also had no idea about what to do with it.

By then, I had read on many writing sites that most, if not all writers, had those first, starter manuscripts tucked away somewhere, never to see the light of day. I decided that I too would put my starter novel away. At least, I had proved to myself that I could write a novel. Who was I, to think that my story was good enough to be published?

However, an inspiring conversation with an old friend during a July 2010 visit to Nigeria made me rethink my position about seeking publication. I thought to myself that there had to be a reason why I had gone down this writing path. I had to give myself a chance. I could not quit without even starting.

On August 16, 2010, with an equal mixture of dread and anticipation, I sent out queries to literary agents in the United States. That same day, I received a request for a full manuscript. Exactly one week later, I had an offer of representation from one of the agents I had queried. I was ecstatic and thus began the second part of this incredible journey.

In May 2011, Daughters Who Walk This Path was bought by Penguin Canada. The novel was published on April 10, 2012. Following the exciting news that the novel was Costco Canada’s buyer Catherine Bergeron’s pick for the month, on May 5, 2012, the novel debuted on the Globe and Mail Bestseller’s list.

As I write this, my head is still spinning from all the things that have happened in such a short time. One thought that often comes to my mind when I think of this unlikely journey, is what would have happened if I had kept that first manuscript tucked away in the bottom of my drawer.

I guess, we’ll never know. – Yejide

I didn’t realize it at the time, but when I got my first real job I already knew the most important thing about being a novelist. My dream back then was to write for magazines, and I started pitching story ideas to an editor whose name I got off the masthead of a magazine I saw in a doctor’s office. (Okay, so I didn’t have the prestigious career path thing totally figured out.) I had one idea in particular that I thought was just perfect for the magazine. The editor was polite and asked me to put my pitch in writing. When I hadn’t heard back two weeks later I gave him another call. He apologized: he hadn’t quite gotten around to it, he’d let me know in a week or two. Two weeks later, not having heard from him, I checked in. He’d been busy, asked for another couple of weeks, didn’t call. Again, I called back, and was put off—nicely. So it went, until a few months later he finally called me. “Was I happy where I was currently working,” he wanted to know. I was a secretary, sitting right outside the glass wall of her boss’s office, making a hash of invoices and contracts. “Um, why?” I asked, feeling my boss’s eye on me. I’d already been reprimanded for too many personal calls. The editor invited me to come in to interview for a position.

Later he told me he’d figured anyone that persistent would make a good journalist. The funny thing was, I hadn’t seen myself as that terrier-with-a-bone type. I was just following up. I believed I had a good story and that therefore the magazine must want to print it.

It wasn’t long before I tried to write a novel, but it was very long before I actually sold one. Embarrassingly long—it took more than two decades. When I finally told friends that I had a book deal, they invariably said, “You must be so thrilled.” Relieved was the truer, more accurate word. Finally! By the time Prosper in Love was making the rounds of agents (and please note the plural “rounds”—I tried with draft after draft) I knew a lot about publishing. I’d worked in magazines for years, had lots of friends who worked in book publishing, had several who’d published books. I’d even, in despair and loneliness, been through an MFA program. I had a card file box filled with agents’ names, contact info, and detailed notes on which writers they represented. I’d been at it for so long, with various attempts at different novels, that many of those agents had two or three agencies listed and crossed out, a record of their own career paths.

I took to heart the very nice notes from agents all along the way, telling me all the good things about my writing and that I was really very close. Plus, I had that magazine career to bolster my confidence: people had paid me for my writing. But while grimly proud of my perseverance, I was haunted by one very specific nightmare: that I was one of those sad cases, a writer who had no idea that she wasn’t good enough. Within one month, two separate writing friends told me they were afraid I might be the one in my generation who deserved to be published but for one reason or another never was.

It’s such a cliché: It only takes one. But that’s what happened: one  (delightful! brilliant!) agent liked my book. In short shrift, three also delightful and clearly brilliant editors wanted to bid on it.

Fine, so it didn’t just “happen.” I had forced myself to sit down and take a hard look at what was in my manuscript after all those years, and had really tried to think about what wasn’t: what was in my head but which I hadn’t managed to get on the page. I wrote another draft. When I reread it, I felt, really for the first time, that I’d done my best, that it was all there, and that if this one didn’t sell, I’d put it away, satisfied with myself at least, and move on to the next one, which I’d actually already started between drafts.

As I struggle to finish that novel, what I try to remember when I sit down to write is not the hard-won knowledge about writing that comes from years of doing it, nor is it the joy and confidence that came from finally selling a book. Sometimes, knowing too much about the business can work against you. No, I take a deep breath and try to recapture that crazy, foolish, ignorant innocence that I had all those years ago, that belief that if I came up with something, people would want to read it—and that I shouldn’t give up until they could. – Deborah

What poem are you carrying with you? – Meg