Alice is hosting a carnival, and this month’s theme is “something different.” This interests me because recently my life has taken a turn in a new direction. I’ve been a writer all my life, and finally, in the past few years, I found a publisher for my contemporary novels. I even started a series. Then, when I was almost finished with the second book in my series, something strange happened. I’ll call it intuition. Most people act on intuitive impulses at least once in a while, right? Or is it just me?
Following this inner guidance was difficult because it was anything but logical. Logic said I needed to finish that second book in the series, the book of my heart, the book that I’ve wanted to write forever and finally was writing, finally saw how it would end. So my head said, you’re just nervous. But you’re a professional. You know what you need to do. Get to work.
About this time, I became obsessed with an egg on Twitter. @gypsywriter was my first Twitter handle, and I’m sorry to say I abandoned it almost immediately for the story I was writing about a band of time-traveling Gypsys. I didn’t pick up Twitter again for another few years and when I did I chose a different handle. My real name, or close enough. No @gypsywriter for me. Still, I didn’t deactivate the account.
As @CynthiaHarriso1 gathered tweeps and spun tweets; @gypsywriter remained silent. She still remains silent. She cannot tweet. She can be followed but she cannot follow. She is an egg whose egg-ness cannot be rectified. For a few weeks, I asked people for help, I Googled, I tried things that had been suggested. Nothing worked. She’s an egg forevermore. Fine. I have a life beyond this egg thing. I have a perfectly fine Twitter feed sans the egg.
But this was enough of a wake up call to the Gypsy that had remained in a file for too long. I posted the first scene on my blog. I’ve been looking to change my blog anyway, and it seemed like a good way to revise. Scene by scene I did that for a few weeks. I even bought cover art that seemed to bring my book to life. Then it was Christmas and I put a link to my Word file on the blog as a holiday present to readers.
A few days ago, I went ahead and published Gypsy on KDP. The speed with which this happened surprises me even now as I sit here. I am also perplexed. Because Gypsy is a paranormal story and I write contemporary fiction with sprinkles of romance and humor. So, now what? Without quite knowing it, I have become an author who works in two distinct genres. I understand that not many people do that. It’s not smart in the business sense unless you are Nora Roberts or J.K. Rowling.
It’s like Stephen King putting out a book of poetry. Or Stephanie Meyer writing erotica. On a much smaller scale. Which is probably my saving grace. My work is not widely read. My name is not in any literary lexicon. I can get away with it. And I intend to, because I am always up for something new.