Guest Blogger ~ Tosca Lee

Tosca is a former Mrs. Nebraska-America 1996, Mrs. Nebraska-United States 1998 and first runner-up to Mrs. United States and has been lauded nationally for her efforts to fight breast cancer. In her spare time, Tosca enjoys cooking, studying history and theology, and traveling. She currently resides in Nebraska with her Shar Pei, Attila

What novelist in their right mind shuns great book buzz? Or doesn’t feel euphoria over an enthusiastic review? Or doesn’t keep letters from readers whose lives have been changed?

Not me. I dreamed of this. Changed lives, yes. Buzz? Bring it. Reviewers smitten by my clever prose and moved to lavish praise?

Oh, if you insist.

Really, do go on.

Seriously. Have at it. It’s safe—I’m not writing at the moment. Like chocolate binges a week after the high school reunion (I just had mine last summer—that’s me: Miss Voted Most Likely To Become a Librarian), I’m in the clear zone. So lay it on thick.

Late one night ten months ago, I dragged myself home from Newark—tired, bloated, grouchy, stinky… and on deadline. I had two solid days at home before my next work trip, and 5,000 words to write.

Why then, the next day, did I want to do nothing but pick my cuticles, read my mail and watch Battlestar Gallactica episodes?

Fatigue is probably among the top three reasons not to write on any writer’s procrastination list (along with sudden onset of gout, spontaneous junk drawer cleaning and inspection of the hair follicles on one’s knees).

Fatigue, I am used to. I confronted it in my days of technical writing, during my pursuit of the Epic Fantasy Novel That Will Kill Me (still unfinished), Demon’s early drafts and subsequent rewrites. But now I was published. Everything had changed. I was wise to the ways of writerly misconduct and on to myself.

So how, then, did I find it especially convenient to watch another Simpsons episode, to contemplate dying my hair purple—again? Why the sudden fascination with the more obscure features of the DVR menu and, when duty kicked in and I sat down at my desk, the sense that I was digging my heels in like a mangy shar pei on his way to the groomers?

Because I was afraid. Fearful I could not live up to Demon’s praise or the encouragement of friends. Worried that I might be delusional and, worse, let down the readers who, touched by something in my first book, expected meaningful more.

I didn’t realize for a long time that it was indeed fear that had crept up the back of my calves and twined about my waist and latched on with tiny suckers to the back of my skull. But that’s what it was, whispering in my ear that I was a fraud, questioning my word choice, my sanity, and whether I was dying of cancer and just didn’t know it.

I know of only two ways to remedy fear: as a Christian, pray—and enlist the prayer of friends. Trust God and take some pressure off yourself. Do away with the enemy. Really. He’s just so unnecessary. And as a writer—write. That’s what we do.

Also, stop thinking about your readers. I’m sure there’s something patently wrong with this advice, but it’s the only thing that got me through Havah. Write with all the uncensored honesty you have.

Pour out the beauty, the ugliness, the questions, and bleed the fear. Time enough for censoring later (there was plenty of that with Havah). I meant it in the dedication when I said I wrote that book for you, but while I was working, you were not with me. I was alone in the beginning of the world with the adam, and with God.

Perfectionism… I’m not sure it’s all bad, personally. My friends will argue that I’m this side of mentally ill, but I’d like to think there’s genius in and time for perfectionism. Nitpicking has its place. But it isn’t while you’re writing. Honesty is messy. Let it out.

In the end, we are the only ones who jointly own this thing we have done in conjunction with the creative hand of God. In the end, you are the one sitting alone, naked with The One. Like a prayer prayed out loud for the benefit of others, we are the ones who suffer the loss of that intimacy if we worry about sounding right to those around us.

So go ahead. Pray, be honest, and keep writing.

Havah, the Story of Eve
By Tosca Lee
Published by NavPress (October 10, 2008)

ISBN-13: 978-1600061240

What was it like to be the first woman on earth, to wake to a brand-new creation---and Adam? Why did she become so beguiled by the serpent? In this lyrical retelling of the biblical narrative, Lee brings Eden to life, revealing the dawn of mankind from Eve's viewpoint!

To read a review of Havah, the Story of Eve, click here.