Ramblings

A FRIEND'S RETIREMENT

I've worked with Jim C. for over thirty years. We grew up together in the same department. We've been through my father's death, my mother's stroke, my husband's heart attack and several operations. His mother's illness and subsequent death. The birth of his two children and their graduation from college. The recent move of his daughter to California. 

After over thirty years together, he retired at age 55 to start another journey in his life. That was a week ago. I don't hear his laugh anymore or share a cup of coffee with him when we can spare the time. There have been times when I start to walk to his office, then remember that he's gone. 

I feel empty inside without Jimmy. I'll be there for several more years, and although I have wonderful co-workers, he was a special man and a special friend. He made a very difficult job more bearable with his humor. I'll miss him every day that I have left before I can retire, too. 

Oh sure, we made the mandatory promises that we'd keep in touch and get together, but it'll never be the same. Time will distance our connection, but it'll never diminish the special place I have for him in my heart. 

We've all had special people that have touched our lives. Maybe we grew up with them, maybe we went to high school with them or shared a dorm room in college, maybe we've worked with them. Pick up the phone. Find that connection and rekindle it. 

Don't just keep your friends in your heart. Keep them nearby.

Chris Wenger

7/23/04

Writer at Work

A writer writes! That’s what a writer does. Every day. 

For me, it’s important to keep my “head” in the story. If I have too many starts and stops, I lose my flow, my momentum, and the magic that occurs when the story is buzzing constantly in my head disappears like a paycheck. 

With that said, I have a full time job that I receive a regular paycheck for. I also get paid vacations, insurance benefits and a pension. But when I’m done with my job for the day, I don’t have a brain cell that’s working. I don’t want to even turn on my computer. I just want to inspect the inside of my eyelids horizontally on the couch. 

But then I remember that a writer writes. Every day. 

I drag my ample butt into my beautiful office (pictures to come!) and soon the magic returns. I am back into my story and time flies. 

Writers write! 

My First Booksigning - February 10, 2005

My book signing at Barnes and Noble in Dewitt was a wonderful success! I couldn’t believe all my friends, family,relatives, neighbors and co-workers who turned out (along with about ten or so people who I didn’t know!) 

I sold 140 copies of THE COWBOY WAY and made theSyracuse, New York, best sellers’ list (#7)for the week of February 13th!! 

My sincere thanks to everyone who made this event such a special evening for me!!

How I Became an Overnight Success in Just Twelve Really Long Years

Let me tell you how I first got into the business of writing. . .

Twelve years ago I wandered into a local writer’s conference. I didn’t know a soul, but I knew when I sat down (mistakenly at the head table!) I was home.

This was on Saturday, June 6, 1992, and it was the first conference of the Central New York Romance Writers. When two real live New York editors spoke (Catherine Carpenter and Melissa Senate), I soaked up every word. I took copious notes. I was euphoric, floating. This was “it”. I WAS GOING TO WRITE A BOOK.

After the conference, I couldn’t wait to go through all the stuff I got in a big, plastic bag. I studied every bookmark, every tip sheet, anything and everything they’d given me.

In their speeches, they related what they liked to see in a submission. Okay, no sweat. I could do this. I told myself I’d have a book out in a year. What could be so difficult?

Duh.

Flash forward to January 21, 2004, at approximately 2:15 p.m. I am sitting in my office at the Pit of Despair and my husband, Jim, calls. He tells me that Susan Litman from Silhouette Special Edition called and wanted me to call her back.

I interrogated Jim: How did she sound? Did she sound happy? What exactly did she say? Did it sound like a sale? Tell me every word. Don’t leave out a thing.

“Chris, will you just call her back?” He laughed his dialogue.

After twelve years, I knew that if I were going to be rejected again, I wouldn’t get a phone call. The rejection would come in the mail like the other fourteen or so manuscripts had (yes, fourteen).

Two beats short of a heart attack, I dialed Susan Litman. I got her voice mail. Damn! I left a message that I wouldn’t move from my chair until she called me back.

Minutes later she did.

“Officer Wenger.”

“This is Susan Litman from Silhouette Books.”

(Heart attack.)

“I have to know, did you move from the chair?”

“Not a muscle.”

“I have good news for you...”

In my line of work, which is law enforcement/criminal justice, people get nervous when they hear screaming, so I burst a couple blood vessels keeping it all in. I babbled and gushed instead.

Twelve years. Twelve years of trying and failing. Twelve years of rejection and frustration. Twelve years of questioning why me, a semi-intelligent person with a dual master’s degree and a successful thirty-year career, couldn’t pull together a publishable book.

Why didn’t I quit?

I did. Approximately 4,380 times.

Why did I keep going back to it?

Pride maybe. Maybe Polish stubbornness. Maybe it was all the money I’d spent on conferences, books, workshops, computers and the like.

Maybe it was the wonderful people I’d met along the way. Writers, published and unpublished, who generously shared their time and talent to help me. They critiqued my work, gave me ideas, gave me suggestions, and recommended writing books.

They also gave brilliant workshops, let themselves be taped so I could learn while driving my car during a snowstorm or in a traffic jam. They wrote terrific books that I studied and highlighted and talked to them about later. They were chapter officers, newsletter editors, and worker bees.

I couldn’t have done it without them. They all collectively helped me achieve my dream.

I did my part. I worked. I studied. I pumped thousands of dollars into the economy. I kept at it.

I didn’t give up, and I’m proud of that.

Did things change for me after “the call”?

Within a week of becoming an overnight success, I was asked to critique three manuscripts, judge a contest because they needed “a pub”, asked to be a moderator at National, and asked to speak at a chapter meeting. I was a whirling, but that was okay. I’m going to give back and help other writers achieve their dream, too.

I’ve also done revisions, joined loops galore, joined PASIC, PAN and something else that I don’t remember. I called Erin at RWA to get a pink first sale ribbon to wear at National. I got glamoured-up for a professional photo, hired a website person, did art fact sheets. I received cards, flowers and gifts. I wrote thank you cards. I toasted myself with enough Blue Nun to float the QE2. I also started Diet Number 18,326.5 so when I met Susan Litman in Dallas she won’t think that Christine Wenger is a writing team.

I want to sell a second book, a third, a seventy-third, but I’m just too damn busy being a published author.

How old will I be in the next twelve years?

Chris

(originally written for “PASIC Basics”, Summer, 2004, newsletter)