Thanks so much for hosting my tour for my latest novel Me Tarzan—You Jane. It’s a pleasure stopping by a fellow author to talk about my writing process.
I often compare my writing process with a butterfly’s birth, from a nugget of an idea (the egg) to a butterfly (the finished novel). And like a butterfly, my novels go through 4 stages:
1. Create 1st draft.
2. Once finished the 1st draft, it goes to my critique group. Carefully reading through their suggestions I create the 2nd draft.
3. 2nd draft is sent out to my beta readers for one more read as 3rd draft.
4. 3rd draft is sent to my editor who will add the final touches. 4th draft is completed and voila the butterfly is here!
I’ve published 5 novels and have several in different stages of being finished, but not two manuscripts have gone through the same writing process. From the first days on my writing journey, every manuscript left me with memories of its birth in ways I hope to never forget, but most importantly it touched and shaped me. When I started on my 1st novel my husband thought I had an affair because I was always hiding what I was doing on the computer, too scared and almost ashamed for even trying my hand at writing. Eventually I told him the truth. He was visibly relieved and said, “Oh, that. You’re writing romance. Why the secrecy?” I never felt so much despair as I did during the second novel when about 2/3 into the 1st draft my main characters went mute. That all went away when I wrote the 3rd novel in only ten days (granted, it was meant to be a short story, which later evolved into a full novel). Until the last novel, I never had the synopsis done before the novel was fully written. And the list can go on.
I have notebooks and pens all over my house which allows me to jot ideas as they come to me (dear family, please forgive burnt dinners and unfinished laundry). I tend to pile stuff on my desk, then go through cleansing mode as soon as I finish a story. I don’t freak out (anymore) if I don’t hit a certain number of words a day. Instead I pound the keyboard when the muse strikes, mostly at night and during weekends. I don’t force myself to stay with one story at a time. Instead, I embrace all voices, all stories at once.
For those of you out there trying your hand at writing/painting/knitting/ whatever it is you’re passionate about, keep doing it in ways that work for you and make you happy. There is no wrong or right way of doing it. Do it because you love it, because it makes your heart soar and your butterflies dance. Creativity is a special gift. Treat it as such.
Thanks for hosting me and good luck to everyone!
For more info about author Camelia Miron Skiba please visit
Me Tarzan — You Jane
Camelia Miron Skiba
Publication date: December 6th 2014
Genres: New Adult, Romance
2015 DREAMS Awards Finalist
2015 RONE Award Finalist
Moving on doesn’t always have to mean goodbye.
Widowed makeup artist Jane Sullivan is more comfortable keeping her husband’s memory alive than dating a pool full of sharks. Ella, her 4 year-old daughter, is her whole world.
When Jane meets Lucas Oliver, famous cover model, it’s hate at first sight. His playboy persona rubs her the wrong way.
Accustomed to every woman fawning over him, Lucas is drawn to the shy, uncompromising single mom and completely melts at the sight of Ella. He is determined to convince Jane that sometimes a second chance can mend a broken heart.
Ever since I began writing and publishing books I’ve been on the run, always trying to write the next page, the next chapter, the next book. Every story was another journey, another discovery of what I could do and another evolution. All these years my motto was it doesn’t matter who I am or where I come from, but what I leave behind is. I thought I have it all figured out.
Socrates, one of the biggest philosophers to ever grace humanity once said, “I am talking a crock of s***.” I had no idea this expression dated hundreds of years ago and belongs to him, but who am I to argue with him? Needless to say, after some soul searching I realized my motto was a . . . pot of smelly stuff. I had a meltdown because, if you think about it, why would what I leave behind matter more than who I am here and now in this very moment? How will I ever know if what I left behind mattered with no way of seeing it? How am I gonna enjoy it? Think Socrates; does he know how much he touched humankind? Does he know people still remember him centuries later? And if he knows, does it make a difference?
I’m not sure. Frankly I doubt with all my heart it makes any difference to him. He’s gone, like I’ll be gone one day and instead of beating myself up to leave something behind me, I’m going to learn how to live here, now and totally enjoy it. No more worrying about tomorrow, but live today. No more five-year plans, but rather let the sun soak my skin, the air fill my lungs and the grass touch my feet. After all, I only live once.
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