This was something that Sue Grafton said to me years ago, but at the moment, I’m having trouble following her advice. 

Let me explain what she meant.  A literary slut is a writer who’ll say “yes” to every invitation, every request.  You want me to fly out to Kalamazoo to speak at a conference for 30 people?  Sure!  Drive eight hours to talk to 25 people at a library?  Of course!  Cut into my precious writing time to teach a week-long workshop?  Count me in!  The events we writers are invited to speak at may not even be related to books, but we’re so flattered to be asked, that we start to sound like that character from Annie Get Your Gun who sings, “I’m just a girl who cain’t say no…”

In short, we turn into literary sluts.

I’m writing this as I quietly suffer an anxiety attack over what I’m scheduled to do tonight.  Months ago, I agreed to emcee (and play fiddle in) a charity concert in my local opera house.  Now, I love to play my fiddle, and this is a terrific charity.  But this gig has required months of thought and preparation, plus rehearsals with my band.  The emcee job has forced me to come up with prepared remarks and I’ve spent a day hunting down good musician jokes.  Also, there’s just that overall  general overall stress of knowing I’m about to walk out in front of 600 people tonight and will have to keep the program running smoothly.  After it’s over, I’m sure I’ll be glad I did it. 

But in the meantime, it’s seriously cut into my writing time.  More important, it’s cut into my thinking time.

All this while I’m supposedly taking a five-day breather from promoting my book.

I look at my schedule for the next two months.  Not only am I traveling on book tour over the next three weeks to Texas, NY, California, Arizona, Georgia, and South Carolina, I also have to pop back home one day to do a quick speech for the Maine Innkeeper’s Association, and after that teach a morning class in Boston, teach a weekend workshop on Cape Cod, head to Milwaukee for a Library event, speak at a University Women’s fundraiser, speak at yet a different Women’s Club event, fly back to NYC to attend a writer’s banquet, and then head home to clean house so I can host a big fundraiser for Family Planning of Maine. 

That’s all in the next two months.  Plus there’s Thanksgiving and Christmas to prepare for.  I haven’t even told you what’s on the calendar after December.

Needless to say, there’s not much time to write.

My husband has finally told me ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.  “You’ve got to start saying no,” he tells me.  Luckily, I listened to him, because over the past two days, I’ve had phone calls inviting me to, 1) join the board of a major statewide organization and, 2) play fashion model at a local fundraiser. 

I regretfully said no to both.  I say regretfully, because both are great organizations, and I really did want to help out.

But I’ve reached the point where the writing is suffering.  I don’t have time to think about my characters.  I haven’t had time to write even a single paragraph — not in weeks.  My deadline is looming like a big black cloud on the horizon — still in the distance, but I know it’s there.

I know there are other writers who, in the midst of building their careers, feel compelled to accept every invitation, attend every conference.  And if you can manage it, that’s great.  But it’s easy to lose control of your schedule, and maybe the time has come to re-think the balance between writing and promotion.

Maybe it’s time to stop being a literary slut and stay faithful to what brought us to the party in the first place: writing our books.