If Fantasy is hard to sell, why are fantasy character's talking to me?

A few days ago I read a post from a friend. Her agent told her Fantasy was a hard sell right now.

Well, great. I've got three of them jockeying for finger time. And they aren't being nice about it.

The first manuscript I finished is a fantasy. In an age before a plethora of internet research tools, no it wasn't that long ago - sheesh, I didn't have the time to spend hours at the library. My kids would have thought it was great at first and then forcibly rebelled after a couple of weeks.

Me, get lost in research? I have no idea what you're talking about.

So anyway, I decided to do fantasy. I set up the social structure, climate, terrain, abodes and everything else that goes with creating a world. I have glossaries, maps and calendars to keep it all straight.

I knew there would be sequels at some point, even knew which character it would be. That was my Nano last year. And then in true writer fashion another idea had me chasing a completely different stick.

All the while the third book in the series was swirling on the edges, so I started that to shut it up.

Okay, so now I'm in it.  I've got a contemporary, I want to finish, not to mention it has a better chance of selling in this market.

My bully warriors won't be quiet. T'nok isn't a bully, but his stupid brother, Keegan is.  Their ladies are more polite, but still chatty And the secondary characters? Oh heaven help me.

The original is mocking me. 'You created us. Deal with it.'  Hang my head.

So I need to round this unruly lot up and corral them somehow so I can finish the one that has a chance of sale, or do I give in and work on them in turns?

No wonder I don't discuss my writing with the general populous. I'd be stuck in a looney bin.

How do you handle more than one story at a time?

I'm them

When I was young I marveled at the aunts. They were living libraries. Ask them any family related question from medical conditions to birthdays and one, if not all, of them would know. Mom didn't know?  No problem, one of the aunts would, or vice versa.

Today it hit me. I'm one of the family walking libraries.

I should have seen it last year. My mother-in-law died and my sisters-in-law and I were fielding questions ranging from, 'When did grandma get this?' to 'Who's this picture of?'  In my defense I was in shock.

Today as I sat in a doctor's office with my son for the first time in over two years it came around and slammed me in the back of the head.  I know and, more amazing still, remember all of his asthma medications, what years he took them and which ones don't work anymore. My son was seeing this doctor for the first time for his asthma and wanted back up. That and instructions on how the doctor should write the scripts for our insurance made his eyes cross.

I know basic medical information on every family member of this generation, and my friend's kids. Privacy? What's that when mom's get to talking.  I remember how old they were when they started driving, dating, their first heartbreak and greatest personal achievements.  I've become one of the aunts.  I'm the keeper of what came from where and who got what, when and how.

And then I wonder why my short-term memory isn't what it used to be? LOL

As a writer this data base serves to deepen and strengthen my stories.  There is a bottomless reservoir of emotion, facial expressions and silly, wonderful laughter.  I'm pretty sure none of them would see themselves in any of my books. My characters are an amalgam, not featuring any one person in my life too pointedly.  Still they are there and it makes my heart smile.

Write, read, edit, repeat. When the cycle ends.

I've been doing the write, read, edit, repeat waltz for so long I never thought to see the end of a project, let alone two.

But here I stand. Safe Harbor was first to launch and I must admit to feeling a little ill at first. My baby, out in the cold, cruel world. Hey, there's a bit I should fix. Can a manuscript ever be clean enough? Pried from my fingers it's in print.

Now Escape to Love is in the chute on its way to print. The editing witch has pin pointed half a dozen things that maybe would be better this way or that. She's talking to the wind. Until the proof copy comes there is little to be done.

So here I find myself standing on the ledge of, gasp, promotion. Have I mentioned I'm afraid of heights?
Believe it or not, I'm something of a recluse, perfectly content to type away and let someone else deal with promotion. Scared? Who me? You bet your life I am.

Is it that I don't believe my work is solid? I know that it is.

Don't want the world to see it?
Nothing could be further from the truth. If I had the money I'd hand my books out for people to read and enjoy. I love them so much, I want you to love them too.

Afraid of criticism? Not really. I don't like every well-written book I pick up. So it stands to reason, as improbable as it seems, not everyone is going to get or like my work.  Having run the gauntlet of on line contests and reveiw by my most wonderful writing group (The Writin' Wombats) I've developed a pretty thick skin.

When it comes to blowing my own horn, selling myself as the next great up and comer, a voice nags at me.  I was raised with Midwest values and work ethic. Do your job. Do it well. Don't brag. Doing a good job is reward enough. Okay, that's leaves me hanging in a precarious position.

I wish I had a touch of my friend, Judi Fennell's enthusiasm. She's gone all out with her Mer-series beginning with In Over Her Head.  She's a real people person and it shows. The woman glows and then she smiles and everyone in the room is happier just for being there.

Pat Bertram has been an example of sheer force of will. More Deaths Than One launched her and I don't  think she's slowed down enough to notice a door might have been closed.

I mention and envy these two, because I'm shy. Not painfully so, but in new situations it's close. This is a new situation.  I'm inherently not a joiner, which in this business is a liability.  My watch and see M.O. won't serve me in this model.  So here I stand, wondering if I should take a leap of faith, or slide off the ledge from a seated position?

How do you go about breaking through into new situations?  How do you face your fears?