Writerly Wednesday – Catalina the Brave (Poem)

I am most certainly not a poet, but during my last semester of college, I was forced to write poems. Although I doubt I’ll ever strive to publish a book of poems, or even count myself as a poet, I do appreciate the art of it. I enjoyed learning to take a story and fit it into stanzas. Poems breathe a little differently than prose, which made them a little tricky. Overall, it was a really nice class and I look forward to writing a few more poems in my future.

Here is one I workshopped back in March:

Weekdays from eight to three she is like everyone else.

Her best friend is Tucker

Sometimes they climb up the slides together

But only when they think

you can’t see them.

 

She can spell her name

But only if you remind her what the first letter is.

C — as in Cat.

That’s actually the first three letters of her name

But you aren’t counting.

 

Monday at lunch she ate the crust

Off the marmalade sandwich her father had forgotten to trim.

You put what snacks she didn’t eat in the filing cabinet.

Storing them like food for winter—

A rainy day drawer of sunshine Sunny D.

 

That way on Wednesday when she turned to you

And told you she wished she had fruit snacks

You could give them to her.

Daddy sent them special for you. Isn’t he the best?

She was pleased. Your heart somehow felt lighter.

 

Days passed and suddenly it was the end of that first week

She brought in a build-a-bear

And stood in front of the class, swaying back and forth

Clutching the animal like a shield.

She is a three year old built of enough kisses to last a lifetime.

 

Together you sat on the bench next to the carpool line.

At your request, she counted how many blue cars drove by.

She kicked her chubby legs back and forth,

Still gripping the teddy bear.

It is pink, like the laces on her light-up Dora sneakers.

 

Now the color stands for

So much more than it ever did before.

It is the emblem of a battle lost,

A tear-stained teddy stuffed with

The fabric muffled words of a warrior.

 

Her daddy arrived red-eyed and unshaven

She was the proud owner of his only smile.

In that moment, you thought of the drawer filled with snacks

Of the lopsided pigtails, crust encircled sandwiches

And the build-a-bear stuffed with mommy’s voice.

     | Catalina the Brave |

 

 

 

 

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0cf4b5_f96085ede92143278d8874b405bce387~mv2Hello! My name is Brianna Joy Crump and I am a twenty-two-year-old writer from Raleigh. North Carolina. I am a recent graduate from Gardner-Webb University where I received my BA in English with an emphasis in creative writing. While in college, I wrote nine and a half novels, as well as multiple short stories and a handful of poems. I am currently rewriting one of my novels and hoping to pursue agents and publishing come the fall. For more information, feel free to contact me on social media or check out my website.

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Story Time Saturday – That One Time We Played Hide & Go Seek: A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a very large group of college students.

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The college students in question.

It was Friday night and they were incredibly bored. Their university, although fair of campus,  possessed only one stoplight and lacked sufficient entertainment. Everything closed at 10 pm, save for the Walmart and the Cookout, both of which were at least a twenty-minute journey from their place of residence. And so it was decided that they should busy themselves in some other form of merriment. Since Netflix had long ago lost is luster, they turned their fickle attentions to a new wonder–the convocation center.

 

Since the gym was used for serious athletic prowess, they knew better than to be seen sullying such a place with their own meager skills. They decided instead to explore this new territory in an invigorating game of hide-and-go-seek. They waited until late at night after all had left, then they set out.

Since the gym was used for serious athletic prowess, they knew better than to be seen sullying such a place with their own meager skills. They decided instead to explore this new territory in an invigorating game of hide-and-go-seek. They waited until late at night after all had left, then they set out.

After a few rousing games, it was decided that they should play sardines. For those of you who have lived this life and yet never experienced such a game as this, let me explain. Sardines is a game in which one player hides away and must be found by every other player. Once found, the finder must then hide alongside the original player until all, save one, are hidden. The name originates from the cramped conditions of the hiders, resulting in an experience similar to that of canned sardines.

Rules were set out. It was said that the players should avoid hiding in offices, places shut tight behind already closed doors, and all bathrooms. The hider was chosen and the game began.

The convocation center is a maze of circles, one on the main floor and one on the basement level. The Gymnasium sits directly in the center of the circle and can be entered from many different entrances set along the path of the outer circles. Although seemingly simple, this structure can become confusing to a newcomer. There are many hallways branching off of the main circle these often lead to many smaller wings of the gym. These hallways are often begun by swinging doors set within alcoves of the greater walkway. It was one such alcove which our initial hider chose this night.

Slowly the players gathered. In order to remain unseen from the walkway, they needed to press against the door for which the alcove was created. This gathering continued for some time, as sardines is not a particularly fast game and the gym is not a particularly small place.

Some stood, some sat. Nearly half a dozen players had gathered when they heard it, the sound of footsteps. A somber hush fell over those hiding–for the object of this game is to remain completely out of sight.

Without warning, the inside door of the alcove was hauled open and the hiders were laid bare, not by one of their friends–but by a complete stranger. Much to their surprise, it was a boy–clearly just trying to exit the men’s basketball locker room. He laughed and the group of embarrassed girls scrambled away, hastily trying to explain themselves. ‘Twas quite mortifying. Needless to say, from that moment onward, they were quite careful about when they played games in the convocation center–lest they be caught once more.

I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading my incredibly anticlimactic story. 🙂

Also, that’s a picture of Ellen perched on a vending machine like a bird. You are welcome.

 

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0cf4b5_f96085ede92143278d8874b405bce387~mv2Hello! My name is Brianna Joy Crump and I am a twenty-two-year-old writer from Raleigh. North Carolina. I am a recent graduate from Gardner-Webb University where I received my BA in English with an emphasis in creative writing. While in college, I wrote nine and a half novels, as well as multiple short stories and a handful of poems. I am currently rewriting one of my novels and hoping to pursue agents and publishing come the fall. For more information, feel free to contact me on social media or check out my website.

5 Reasons Why You Should Be An English Major – With Star Wars

We love what we do. I don’t know that the history or science majors dislike what they do necessarily, but you never really hear them trying to recruit other undecideds to join their group. In the English department, and I can only speak of mine, we are an inclusive bunch. You don’t know what you want to do with your life? Oh, you should be an English major! You aren’t sure about that business degree? Oh, be an English major! You have a cold? Be an ENGLISH MAJOR! We want everyone to get to experience the wonderful classes and literature that we have over the last four years.

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We have the best class discussions. Although the topic may be Science-FictionLiterature we are constantly on the lookout for plot ideas and they come to us in waves. We joke about “what if” and spout plot twists without thought. We can turn any conversation into a genre conversation. We have deep feelings about Hamilton and Harry Potter. We are not afraid to color outside the lines, letting our class discussions go where they will in an effort to figure out exactly how we feel about a text.  Every discussion can and probably will reference something from Star Wars.

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We have the best people. My peers, even my teachers, are going places. Sometimes I sit in class and listen to my fellow English majors talk about their projects and I just know I’m in the presence of a future best-selling author. That’s so cool. Looking at your classmates for not just who they are now, but who they will be in ten years. I’m not sure any other major, aside from perhaps theater, really puts you in a situation where you feel that way. As an Engish major, you are constantly on the brink, or perhaps sitting next to, greatness.

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We aren’t competitive. Okay, so again, I can only speak of GWU, but I know our department is this way. We are always in support of each other’s writing career. We want our friends to do well, there is enough space on the world’s bookshelf for all of us. We follow each other on social media, talk easily and freely about our writing projects, get equally uncomfortable when we have to workshop with one another and celebrate each other’s successes. The only thing we compete over is who can make the wittiest comment.

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We are all weird together. We can laugh about dragons and witches and faeries. Plots and ideas are always taken seriously. Harry Potter is everyone’s favorite book series and if it isn’t it soon will be. We all have our own favorite author and we fangirl/boy over them constantly. We get overly excited when we find out that other people have read and love the same series as we do. We all equally love and hate workshop. We watch the same TV shows, play the same video games, critique the same movies and over analyze absolutely everything in between. We all have the same dream, we will just accomplish it in creatively different ways.

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0cf4b5_f96085ede92143278d8874b405bce387~mv2Hello! My name is Brianna Joy Crump and I am a twenty-two-year-old writer from Raleigh. North Carolina. I am a recent graduate from Gardner-Webb University where I received my BA in English with an emphasis in creative writing. While in college, I wrote nine and a half novels, as well as multiple short stories and a handful of poems. I am currently rewriting one of my novels and hoping to pursue agents and publishing come the fall. For more information, feel free to contact me on social media or check out my website.

Writerly Wednesday – Instagram Captions

This is about to be motivational so buckle up kids!

 

If it isn’t fiction, it isn’t for me – that has been my writing mantra for so very long. I can sit at my laptop and type type type away for hours on a piece of prose, but ask me to caption something for Instagram and I’m finished.

I can’t.

I freeze up.

I don’t know if any of you have seen my Instagram account…it’s sad. The pictures aren’t really sad. They’re nice and pretty, but I’m terrible at coming up with things to say about what I’ve taken a picture of. I mean, let’s be real, sometimes we have a pretty fiiinnnne selfie or we have a damn good picture of leaf and we just want to post it…but what do you say? I’ve never been one of those people who can post a selfie and caption it with a Bible verse. It just seems odd to me. It’s not that I don’t love the Bible, it’s just that it’s always appeared a tad bit odd to me that we would slap a verse on something that is more or less vain. We are literally just posting a picture say, “Hey, look how cute I am. Also, Jesus.” I’m sure I’m guilty of this somewhere along the line. It’s easy to do, but as a writer shouldn’t I be better at this? Shouldn’t I have something witty, poetic, or overall profound to say about my average looking, nice lighting, interesting angle photo of a leaf?

Yes. I suppose I should.

This is the moment where this blog post can head one of two ways, I can either bash myself and fall into a spiraling pit of writerly dispair or I can fix my makeup, stand a bit straighter and get over it. And, as fun as the first choice sounds, I should be mature about this. I shall pout another day. Today is about me, and others like me (insert your name here), realizing that our worth as a writer does not exist on social media.

Okay, I get that I am telling you this on a blog so I somewhat just canceled myself out, but I need you to use your fantastic imagination and pretend that I am sitting across from you, sipping coffee and giving you a pep talk. Help me, help you. Let me, help me.

I’m preaching to the writer choir when I say:

YOU WILL NOT BE THE BEST WRITER AT EVERYTHING. I know, shocker! I’m just gonna pause for a second and let you think about that.

Done? Any tears?

I hope not. I hope that isn’t a surprise to you. It isn’t to me, but I sometimes appreciate the reminder. And boy, do I get reminded of it! Every single day in poetry class I am reminded that I am most certainly not the best poet. I don’t get it. It seems like work to me and I hate that. I like when words come naturally. When they flow. Poetry does not do that for me- but it does it for other people. There are people in my poetry class who are really good at what they do and I low key envy them. And that’s good. It’s a warm and tingly sort of envy, the sort of envy that tells you that your peers are off to big places.

Just because they are headed to big places doesn’t mean you aren’t too. Just means you’re going different big places. Or you’ve missed the big places bus and you have to wait to catch another one. Either way, as writers we will not be the best at every single thing. There are some people who are great at writing captions for Instagram photos. They just say everything they want to say and make it seem so flawless and lovely. I AM NOT THAT PERSON. I will probably caption my Instagram photo, “Me with my dog” before I will ever come up with something sparkling and well versed.

img_4033Also, sidenote, look at how cute my dog is!

Anyway…

I may not be the best poet or the best Insta captioner or the best blogger, but I can write a book. And an okay short story. And I can bake some pretty sassy chocolate chip cookies if I do say so myself…and I do.

You see, we all have our own talents. If you struggle with something as a writer and you don’t want to ride the struggle bus anymore- GET OFF. Work on it. Practice makes perfect, or at least it makes practiced. If something bothers us enough, we will work on it.

We are worth more than a caption on a semi-artsy picture of a leaf. We are writers. We write. Plain and simple. That doesn’t alway mean having the right words or the exact phrase or the sweetest rhyme. Sometimes being a writer is stumbling around until you hit gold. Sometimes, being a writer is just filling a blank page with words.

And that’s just fine. In fact, it’s better than fine. It’s how things are meant to be.

Here’s to all my poetic picture captioners. 

Here’s to all my “me and my dog” people. 

Here’s to all my selfie and Jesus humans. 

You do you.

We all have different words inside of us. Be a writer. Write. 

And now some words from Yoda, because he always says it best:

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0cf4b5_f96085ede92143278d8874b405bce387~mv2Hello! My name is Brianna Joy Crump and I am a twenty-two-year-old writer from Raleigh. North Carolina. I am a recent graduate from Gardner-Webb University where I received my BA in English with an emphasis in creative writing. While in college, I wrote nine and a half novels, as well as multiple short stories and a handful of poems. I am currently rewriting one of my novels and hoping to pursue agents and publishing come the fall. For more information, feel free to contact me on social media or check out my website.

Dear Prospective Student,

I spent eighteen years looking forward to high school graduation. My entire academic career was a timeline leading up until that moment. That diploma. So I had eighteen years to decide what I would do after high school.

Where I would go.

What kind of job I wanted.

College?

Where?

I had 18 years.

And by the time I reached the end of those eighteen years I was really ready to head out. I didn’t cry at my high school graduation. I didn’t care. Didn’t even bat an eye at it because, by the end of those eighteen years, I knew what I wanted. I even knew what college I wanted to attend and everything—In fact, I decided that when I was in the 8th grade. I had enough time. Eighteen years was more than enough time.

So I graduated.

I went to Gardner-Webb University. I’ve spent four years here.

Let me begin this by saying that four years is not enough time.

I’ve spent four years learning and making friends and stressing myself out. And now they expect me to have all of my shit together. Leave and get a job. I’ll be honest with you, I’m not ready to go yet. I just haven’t had enough time. I’m not sure anywhere else can compare to what this place means to me. This crap heap of a place that GWU calls “Decker Girls Dorm” has been my sanctuary for four looooonnnngggg years. It smells and the water is usually either too hot or too cold, there is never a washer open and the dryers are always broken, BUT it’s my crap heap. It’s home. I love it. I even love the fact that there is carpet on the walls. It’s weird, I know, but I’m used to it now. I like the comfort of the “Decker funk”—if my clothes didn’t smell like Decker then what would they smell like? As much as I didn’t want it as a freshman, I want it now. I was just a kid then, I didn’t know any better. I wanted shiny and new. I wanted it to smell fresh and have bright lighting. I was stupid. I don’t want those things. I want cozy and quirky and smelly and dark and haunted and creaky and cold and lived in. I want Decker.

And here’s another thing: I love my friends. I love yelling down the hall to see if someone is home, I love impromptu Cookout runs and being peer pressured to skip classes. Singing in the car is one of my favorite things and I don’t know what I’ll do when I don’t have a car full of friends to do it with anymore. I enjoy having adopted sisters and knowing that they just “GET IT.” I love making funny videos and playing board games. I love snow days and decorating our hallway for the holidays.

This has, without a doubt, been the best four years of my entire life. And I’m supposed to just put everything in a box and leave. They want me to just release this white knuckled love that I have for my school and for the beautiful community that creates it. I had to wade through eighteen years of crap just to stumble into happiness and it only lasts four years. I don’t want it to have an expiration date.

That sucks.

Today is my last first day of classes at GWU.

In 120 days I am going to have to leave this place.

I will leave professors and classes, some of which have altered my entire world. The English Department is absolutely fantastic. You won’t find kinder, sweeter, lovelier people anywhere. I belong with them. They are my team, my kindred spirits, my humans. We can laugh and joke and be weird together because we all have the same fantastic and almost (but not quite) unattainable dream of being teachers and writers. We want to go on to do great things. I want them to go on to do great things—and I know that they will. I know the people in my English classes will go one to do and write things that will change lives.

And perhaps this is all because we are in a place that has changed ours.

Which is why in 120 days I—we—will have to leave. Turns out, for many of us, greatness is located outside of Boiling Springs, North Carolina. I shouldn’t be surprised. After all when I stepped onto this campus four years ago I knew that I’d eventually have to let it all go. But I didn’t love it then like I do now. I didn’t understand how a place could turn into a home. I’ve never experienced that before, not without my biological family playing a role. This was, after all, completely mine. And that cycle doesn’t end when I leave.

There will be a new group of scared freshman; maybe you will be one of them. These freshmen, with their bright faces and lanyards slung securely around their necks, will never know that I was even here. Even though this is my home. Even though I have eaten at those tables, read those books, tripped over that loose paver, gone sledding on that hill, stressed over those finals and eventually walked across that stage—it won’t remain mine. Gardner-Webb University is home and I don’t want to be abandoned by her, but she also belongs to thousands of other people. I guess all I’m saying is: I wish I had the same eighteen years now that I did then. From birth, all the way through elementary school, middle school, and high school, all I wanted was a place to really belong. And I found it here. At Gardner-Webb University.

Dearest Prospective Student, as you visit different schools think about what you want out of the next four years. For you, just graduating high school, four years is a very very veeerrrrrrrrry long time. I’m here to tell you that it isn’t. Don’t breathe! Don’t blink! Careful or you’ll miss it. Before you know it you will have four years worth of academic knowledge and a lifetime worth of memories. Find where your heart belongs and then bury it there. Live in the messiest dorm, make the oddest friends, laugh until you cry and grow to new heights. Wherever home becomes, make it yours—because you only get it to keep it for so long.

Best of Luck,

Brianna Joy Crump

 

P.S. Don’t wear your lanyard around your neck. 😉

 

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0cf4b5_f96085ede92143278d8874b405bce387~mv2Hello! My name is Brianna Joy Crump and I am a twenty-two-year-old writer from Raleigh. North Carolina. I am a recent graduate from Gardner-Webb University where I received my BA in English with an emphasis in creative writing. While in college, I wrote nine and a half novels, as well as multiple short stories and a handful of poems. I am currently rewriting one of my novels and hoping to pursue agents and publishing come the fall. For more information, feel free to contact me on social media or check out my website.

Writerly Wednesday – Why I Chose Not To Self-Publish

Let me preface this by saying: I loved working with my editor, my cover designer, and Reedsy. The experience was flawless. This is just about me as a writer… 

This past June I received a random email about a website called Reedsy. It was completely out of the blue. I still have no idea how they got my email-I sort of like the idea of it being fate. Anyway, I received an email from Reedsy explaining that they knew I was a writer and wanted to offer their editing, publishing, overall wonderful services to me. I was skeptical. I visited the website, it was colorful and organized looking. They offer editing services of all kinds as well as graphic design and layout offers. Turns out Reedsy is a network of freelance, supposedly qualified, resume flashing professionals offering to help indie writers become the best they can be. Still skeptical, I did my traditional “Is ______ a scam” Google search and came back with really nice reviews.

Okay, so it wasn’t a scam. Even so, I’m a broke girl living in a lonely world, so I brushed it off. But I kept thinking back to it.

Told myself to forget about it and move on with my life. A few days went by, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’d been writing on and off for a while, but I mostly felt stuck. I’d written novel after novel, continuously beating my own time frame and exceeding my word count goals, but it wasn’t really enough. Being just a writer wasn’t enough. It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy just writing, but I knew that I eventually needed to stop and try to push something into the publishing world. I couldn’t just keep writing novels because with every new one I became further from Astridia- which was/is the novel I want to try to publish first. The more I thought about my writing career, the more I knew that I needed to take a leap of faith and do something to benefit myself.

I told my dad about Reedsy.

He is my writing soundboard and I knew that if I approached him with Reedsy he would either talk me down or encourage me to pursue it. I also knew that if he encouraged me to pursue it, that I would. His faith in my work and in me is a magical thing. If he told me I could do it, I might actually be able to move mountains. He was excited about it and thought it was a great idea and so I seriously began looking into using their services.

Because Reedsy is made up of freelancers, all the prices are individual and tapered to your specific project. I had to submit a brief, which is pretty much a summary of your novel, a list of your characters, your genre, your budget, your time frame and your desired services. One you have a brief, you can send it out, five freelancers at a time, and receive price quotes. I knew that I didn’t have a ton of money to spend on this (again, broke girl in a lonely world), but I wasn’t really taking it too seriously at that point. I sent out my brief and waited. a few days later I received an email from one of the editors that I’d chosen, a fantastic editor named Nicole Ayers. She let me know right away that she was going to be busy over the weekend but that she’d get right back to me with a quote as soon as she was able. I knew as soon as she sent me that message that I wanted to work with her. She was friendly and her message took all the tension and uncertainty right out of the experience. I told my dad that I really liked Nicole and that I wouldn’t make any decisions until she got back to me. A few more quotes and messages came in, but I was already pretty sure what I wanted. When Nicole offered to do both sets of edits for me, both copyediting and proofreading, I knew I wanted to work with her. The experience was really new and I wasn’t interested in having to brief another editor, I was satisfied with her doing both rounds. Since I am, as we’ve clarified, very broke, I couldn’t afford her price on my own. BUT, I have the best grandparents in the world and they offered to help me since they know writing is what I want for my future. With my grandparent’s help, I was able to schedule my editing sessions in advance with Nicole for October.

Next on my “let me see if I can self-publish journey” I began looking for graphic designers. I searched and searched, finding that a lot of the artists specialized in drawings or paintings. Since I adore pictures, I wanted something photography based. Finally, I found someone I really liked, Rachel Lawston. I recognized quite a few of the people she’d worked on covers for and I thought her art was fantastic. As is the custom with Reedsy, I briefed and waited. She got back to me and offered me a really great price- I was sold. I accepted right away. I’ll never forget riding in the car with my mom on the way to work and receiving the email with her price, I was already so interested in working with her that I was on cloud nine when I found out I really could.

Fast forward to October 1, 2016 – I send my novel Astridia to Nicole for first round editing. She kept it and worked on those edits until the 20th. She was FANTASTIC. She was willing to work around me, understanding that I would have a week of free time in late October for my fall break and arranging her editing schedule so that I could make first round revisions during my off time. She was great. Serious, go hire her.

October 1st was also my start date for the cover with Rachel- Also the best. She sent me a form and I filled it out, telling her my preferences for cover, size, publishing company and other small details like color and feel. Then the waiting began.

About a week and a half later I received a few different cover choices. Although they were beautiful, I wasn’t in love. Another few days passed and Rachel struck gold. She sent the cover I chose and a few other choices. I automatically knew which one I liked, but I wanted input from other people so I sent some text messages asking for votes. I’ll include those pictures here:

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Almost everyone chose the one I did, so I let Rachel know. She went to work, changing a few small details. Initially, I wasn’t sure about the fingernail polish so she was awesome enough to remove it. Once it was gone, I missed it- so it stayed. This is our finished product.

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My name has never been so big on anything. Ahhhh! I love it. I can’t say it enough. So pretty. So cool. PERFECT!

Rachel was fantastic and has remained really involved even after the cover was finished. Couldn’t have asked for a better cover designer, I was blessed!

Nicole continued to work on editing the novel. I revised what she sent me and then returned it to her for second round proofreading. I received the clean manuscript on the 21st of November, just two days before my 22nd birthday.

I’m pretty sure I was working with the best two ladies in the business, just saying.

Anyway, while all this was happening, I was shooting for a December 15, 2016 launch date. I was planning to put the book on amazon and see what happened. Try to promote and sell it myself. I figured that if it were to get enough traction then I could use those sale numbers when querying agents. I WAS WRONG. What I didn’t know was that if your book has been published, even self-published, it is really hard to get representation. Literary agents don’t want it. They want pure, unseen content. I found this out a little late in the game and I was seriously sad to have to call off my self-publishing venture. I wanted to self-publish, I wanted to give Astridia a shot. BUT, I needed to give her a fair shot. I needed to query agents first, everyone seemed to agree. Even Google, whom I trust. 🙂

So I didn’t self-publish and I don’t plan to. It isn’t that I think I’m too good for it because I’m not. It’s just that I think I’m too early in the game to self-publish without first trying to do traditional publishing. My dream is to be a published author, Barnes & Noble-style. Much to my own dismay, self-publishing won’t really get me there. Plus, I’m not sure Astridia is ready– but that is a separate post in and of itself.

I say (write) all of this to say that I wouldn’t change a thing. I loved my experience with everyone on Reedsy, it was fantastic. They were fantastic. Truely, ten out of ten, would recommend. I learned so much about myself and about my book through this experience. It wasn’t wasted time or money, it was such a fantastic learning experience. I wish all of the creative writing emphasis people at GWU could have the opportunity to have a graphic designer bring their book to life. Or have a talented editor shape their book into a better product. We should seriously consider teaming up with the graphic design people in communications and see if they would work with the novel writing people. It would be great. It was an adventure I wouldn’t trade, or do differently, for anything in the world.

 

Just thought I’d share about my own experience and tell other writers about Reedsy. I am not paid or sponsored by them or by either of the two lovely ladies that I mentioned, I just really enjoyed my experience working with them and wanted to talk about it. 

 

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0cf4b5_f96085ede92143278d8874b405bce387~mv2Hello! My name is Brianna Joy Crump and I am a twenty-two-year-old writer from Raleigh. North Carolina. I am a recent graduate from Gardner-Webb University where I received my BA in English with an emphasis in creative writing. While in college, I wrote nine and a half novels, as well as multiple short stories and a handful of poems. I am currently rewriting one of my novels and hoping to pursue agents and publishing come the fall. For more information, feel free to contact me on social media or check out my website.