> I took a workshop with Alex Kava, not because she's a national and international bestseller of psychological suspense novels, which she is, but because she's just so darned nice.
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> I first met her at a signing where I didn't buy her book (thrillers scare me silly) but where she graciously exchanged ideas with me.
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> So when I read that she would head a workshop at my Nebraska Writers Group conference, I attended with my partner, Jack Loscutoff.
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> Alex's a Nebraska girl made good, all right, just as down-to-earth and practical as I remembered.
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> She likes to problem-solve, so we listed words that described our writing and ourselves as writers. Then, as a group, we brainstormed. And listened to Alex share her publishing experiences.
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> I raised my hand and complained about my career which seemed to be going downhill: first a novel with a major publisher, then a memoir with a university press, then a book-length poem with a little publisher, then a biography self-published.
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> "Why did that happen?" Alex asked.
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> "You tell me!"
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> Of course she couldn't. But as she shared her publishing experience, I began to see why. Publishers think like businesspeople; if a house lands one good seller, it wants another book of the same kind. My debut novel sold well, and if I'd written another similar book, I might be an author of four novels instead of four books, each different from the other.
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> The thought depressed me, but only for a moment. Alex told us to pick the three best words from our lists. As I studied my words, I saw three rising: "bitter" and "sweet," then "rebel." With a start, I recognized that's what my writing was, that's what I was, a BitterSweet Rebel. I released my shackles; they clattered to the floor.
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> There I sat, no longer the discontented writer of four disparate books. Instead, I became a cheerful rebel proud of the thousands of bittersweet words I've written.
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> I studied Alex as she drew the workshop to a close. She's pint-sized, and she looks as though she grew up in the country outside Silver Creek, Nebraska. Which she did. I knew she was matter of fact and practical. But what a surprise to discover that she was also a wizard capable of turning turn my dross into gold!
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> Thanks, Alex.
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