Finding My Brand. Do I Have To?

Writing across genres does not align with marketers telling us to create one concise branding package. So…what? Am I just one thing?

11 months ago, I joined the legion of writers who are also mothers. In my limited time so far this year, I’ve prioritized my novel: making final edits, refining my pitch package, sending to beta and sensitivity readers. I’ve also been desperately trying to return to this newsletter. But I have a dilemma…

Who am I and what is my brand?

The publishing industry wants writers to pick a brand and stick with it. Think Kristin Hannah, George RR Martin, Stephen King, etc. When a reader says, “Have you read the latest Dan Brown?” you know exactly what that means.

But my ideas and ambitions don’t fit neatly into one category. Especially now that I’m a writer and a mother. Do I write about motherhood? Do I stick with historical fiction? What about speculative and creative nonfiction and all the other things I want to write? Do I need to keep these interests separate? How could I possibly do that?

During my MFA program, Rick Moody, author of Garden State, Ice Storm and many more, once said he did not stick to a suggested code or brand and lost a lot of money because of it. Of course, he’s also been widely criticized for his bluntness, but he has over a dozen books published and seems to write what he actually wants to write. Clearly “finding your brand” is a personal choice. Sometimes just being who you are is your brand?

What I’ve learned while writing with a baby

They’re terrible writers. Ha, kidding, she can’t even read yet.

Having a baby is very, very time consuming. Any spare moment I have, I am desperate to keep editing my book or trying to contain one cohesive thought. For months I’ve been trying to write anything of substance for this newsletter. So today, you get this: What I’ve learned while writing with a baby.

Me in early 2025, writing while our baby girl naps on my chest.

Writing is still hard, but I love it.

Why do I keep coming back to this hard thing? Why do we persist even when things get hard? For me, writing is about the process, the creativity, the challenge of getting my own ideas, feelings, and impressions out and onto the page. It’s something I do for me, so why would I give that up? (Or ever ask a machine to do it for me?)

I did not lose myself like I feared I would.

Parenthood is affecting my memory and my focus has definitely shifted and I now have the ability to remember a precise-yet-ever-shifting nap schedule and can hear our baby’s grunts, cries, yammers through five different walls, and yet I cannot recall what I was just about to tell you…

Love really is the answer.

There are reasons why tried-and-true storytelling always revolves around good versus evil. We are in constant battle against our weakest selves (evil), tempted to give into things that are easy like hate and violence and complacency. Whereas love (goodness!) can feel harder because it requires us to give away parts of ourselves and risk being selfless, un-indulgent, and thoughtful—possibly for nothing in return.

Listen, I mean really, truly listen.

I hear the sounds she’s making, but only when I started to actually listen, did I figure out a sleep schedule. What we learned: Don’t jump at every whimper. Don’t be so reactive. Don’t assume I know what she wants without really listening first to how and what she’s communicating. (I feel like this lesson goes for all humans, all the time.)

I can achieve a lot in very little time.

A few minutes here, some mental work there… while feeding her, while on our daily walks. If I can write for 2 or 10 minutes, that feels amazing. If my hands are busy, I put my mind to work. Playing with blocks? I’m envisioning scenes. Changing diapers? I’m working through plot problems. This, I believe is what Lauren Hough means by what is and isn’t writing.

My office. Where I do my daily stroller-nap-walk-run-writing-sessions.

And miraculously…

As I draft this piece with pen and notebook, she is playing beside me—a coveted, rare moment (of which I am trying to cultivate more) where she’s not ripping pages or chewing on my pen. Now she’s crawling to my bookshelf and I’m saying, “You can look and touch, but we don’t eat books.”

Quitting meta is the best decision.

Now I spend my precious focusing on our daughter, my family, my writing. I worry less about things over which I have no control. I read our local newspapers and watch Central Oregon Daily. I am aware of national headlines (mostly via Substack writers, which, yes, Substack is skyrocketing into top social media position), but I’m also much more engaged in my own community in real life, which feels nice.

I am not who I used to be.

My younger self would be shocked to know I am married and a mother. Sometimes I go looking for her, my previous self, but I’m not sure how well that serves me. For one thing, I can no longer afford to be so cynical. And I have changed. Of course I have. My body created an entirely new human. That feels like something worth writing about.

So what’s my brand?

I don’t know. But here are things I’d like to write about, here on Odd Fodder and elsewhere:

• Historical things, specifically about Lake Tahoe and the American West

• Literary things, meaning serious topics with serious writing

• Speculative fiction, writing that is experimental, fun, unexpected…

• Essays about nature, life, motherhood, being a writer, anything I want! The question is, Do I write about me as a writer, as a mother, woman, human, nature lover, partner, writer? Oooh, did I say that last one twice?

If you’re along for the ride, this Odd Fodder may get odder, but I’ve never been very good at fitting into molds. So I want to thank you for reading. For indulging me and my writing. What a treat it is knowing you are there, just on the other side, reading these words. I do not take that lightly. I cherish your trust, time, and support.

Book Update: The Change-Up in medias res

The day before my scheduled C-Section, I finished another draft of my novel and had sent 30 query letters to agents: 12 of whom replied. One even said, “This is exactly the type of story I’m attracted to, but the first pages didn’t draw me in.”

The first pages, of course.

That comment consumed my sleep-deprived brain. Our baby was born, but I didn’t have an agent, and in the middle of the night during the darkest winter months between newborn screams and my own desperate cries–wishing I could just sleep–I stayed awake and let my mind wander…

The first pages must be remarkable.

So, I took my finished draft and pulled the most interesting chapter to the front. Just cut and copied it forward. Which immediately made my novel more interesting because now it starts in medias res, meaning, “in the midst of things” or starting in the middle of a narrative or plot. Duh, of course. Why hadn’t I done that before?

Because I was fixated on a linear plot and then I had a baby…

Anyhow, NOW this book feels even tighter than before. And once again I’m heading down the agent search path. I will do my best to return to monthly newsletters. That is my fervant hope and promise.