Wow. What a year. Many significant milestones: a 75th birthday, a couple of 50s; and a 30th wedding anniversary. Throw in a couple of out-of-town concerts and work-related travel, and we were gone more than we were here, which meant for a lot of fun visits with family and friends. Toss in a couple of hospital stays for me, and it was a well-rounded year, that's for sure.
On the writing front, I sent one manuscript off to an editor, and another out to Beta Readers. Sadly, none of the Betas got back to me (which does a real number to one's confidence. Fortunately, I've been in this business long enough to learn to soldier on). The editor, on the other hand, did a great job, and I've been reworking MS with her insights in mind, with a mind to publishing this year. I also want to get the sequel out (and in a twist of fortuitous fate, just yesterday I had an offer from two people willing to Beta read, so I sent it off to them today. Fingers crossed!), so that is my work-toward for 2018.
When not completing final polish or revisions, I'll be completing the third book in the above series, My Forever Love, featuring Maggie and Joe. I'll also be researching cover artists (or Photoshop) and developing a publishing plan and schedule, among other businessey things. I'm looking forward to it, to stretching my wings and expanding my knowledge and skill-set.
In the old days (pre-Amazon), writers working towards publication finished manuscripts and mailed query letters to editors and agents, seeking someone willing to take them, and their work on. It could take months, if not years, to find an agent or editor willing to take on a new writer, and more months if not years for that book (or a different one if the first failed) to actually make it to print. That's still true for many writers. For others, those who choose to self-publish, it's quicker.
Self-publishing offers a certain freedom traditional publishing does not. It's also brutally challenging.
Trad published writers have, as part of their royalty-paid publishing contract, no upfront costs to have in-house editors scar up their manuscripts; copy-editors proof the final version; proof-readers ensure the first few rounds of edits and copy-edits missed nothing; cover artists to create covers to House specifications; publicity arms to market the book; distributors to get it into the hands of readers. Self-published authors can get all that help, too. Provided they can afford it.
That is the biggest challenge self-pubbed authors face: upfront costs. Which is why Beta Readers are so valuable.
Having a few sets of different eyes on a manuscript before it goes off to an editor means an author has an opportunity to work out the worst of the kinks and confusion, before having to pay a professional editor to slash, dice, and dissect a manuscript. The less work an editor, and then copy-editor, has to do, the less expensive it is for the author. Betas are Golden. They see the manuscript in its fledgling form; their opinions/initial impressions/keen eyes and bewildered "huh?"s offer authors a chance to see the book as others see it. Not as the author sees it.
By the time I'm ready to send a manuscript to a reader, I've stopped seeing the problems. Otherwise I wouldn't send it. I'm too close to the story, to the characters, to the structure. I can't see the forest for the trees. I'm like the Crazy Cat Lady who doesn't notice the litter box odor permeating the house or cat hair festooning every level surface; I see only my precious kitties. Beta readers are the SPCA.
They come in, and wrinkle their nose, mutter "yuck" as they step on and around fresh and dried hairballs; collect saucers of hardened wet food and sour milk to be disposed of. They notice the big Tom lounging in the fruit bowl and skittish kitten squirmed between the fridge and wall. They see the fleas hopping in the carpet, and yellow stains on the wall where that big Tom cat marked his territory. They're the first line of defense in Cat Justice. Editors are the prosecutors. Readers the Judge. And Jury. The End, is just the beginning of a manuscript's journey. Just as 2018 is a new journey for all of us.
Whatever 2017 was like for you, may 2018 be better. May you put into action a plan to achieve whatever your heart dreams of. May good people fill your life. May you be a good people in other people's lives. May you dream a dream, and make that dream happen.
Dream.
Plan.
Execute.
Achieve.
Be who you know you're meant to be.
Be awesome.
Deborah
There is no advancement to him who stands trembling because he cannot see the end from the beginning. ~E.J. Klemme
Showing posts with label writing.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing.. Show all posts
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
A Writer's Best Friend is...
...another writer. Really.
This hit home for me today as I was
lunching with a friend who is also a writer. After sharing our adventures in
parenting and everyday life, we moved on to shop talk: Current and future
projects, industry successes and not-so-successes, personal goals and yes,
challenges. I do not remember exactly what she said, but it prompted a dark
confession from me:
I had finished, but not shopped a couple
of manuscripts because they felt "too familiar" to me, as in: I
feared I had written a stories similar to books I had read at some point in my
past, though I could not recall titles, authors, or even when
I might have read these other books though it would have been prior to the
1990s. I had even Googled premises and read dozens and dozens of back cover
blurbs of similar era, similar set books to see if my fear was valid. To date
it had not proved out, still I worried. She very kindly did not laugh aloud.
What she did do was reassure me that this
is normal. I probably had read the books before—during the many phases of
writing, revisions, and edits on my stories.
After reading some passages
multiple times, and the manuscript in its entirety twice—or fifty times—it would
begin to feel distinctly familiar, and that unless I had literally propped
someone else's book in front of me from which to transcribe whole sentences and
passages, I need not fear plagiarizing anything.
"There are limited tropes, limited
inciting incidents, limited combinations of relationships"...When writing
about people, you just might have a sister, cousin, mother, father, brother, or
uncle, etc. acting as either compatriot or antagonist to a protagonist and
doing similar stuff in similar locations as other novelists, but what matters
is your voice and execution. In short: You can't worry about that stuff.
I do.
The Melania-Michelle fiasco is a prime
example of how one should not copy someone else's stuff if one wants to be
taken seriously. And I want to be taken seriously, hence my interest in clean
writing, and heightened appreciation for good people who offer sage advice when
it's needed.
Good writers, good people, offer support,
and the occasional gentle knock-up-side-the-head when necessary (Thank you,
Roxanne!). Not so good writers attempt to pass other writers' work off as their
own. I am grateful to enjoy the company of the former and every time I sit at
the computer to work I strive to earn my place among them, because at the end
of the day, it is why I write: to tell my stories, not someone else's.
Deborah
Great is the road I
climb, but…the garland offered by an easier route is not worth the gathering. ~Propertius
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Bear up, and Write
Today Belgium. A few months ago, Paris. Almost fifteen years ago, 9/11...it is sickening. And damn near paralytic.
In the aftermath of 9/11 I was emotionally paralyzed. I slipped into a writing slump, unable to focus on my frivolous hobby when others suffered so. Writing had suddenly become...inconsequential, and selfish in the face of incomprehensible violence and tragedy. I shared my anguish and inhibition in the CompuServe Writer's forum where I used to hang out daily (and still pop in periodically, if only to lurk), and one very wise writer advised me, in very kind words, to bear up; it was my duty to write.
In the aftermath of 9/11 I was emotionally paralyzed. I slipped into a writing slump, unable to focus on my frivolous hobby when others suffered so. Writing had suddenly become...inconsequential, and selfish in the face of incomprehensible violence and tragedy. I shared my anguish and inhibition in the CompuServe Writer's forum where I used to hang out daily (and still pop in periodically, if only to lurk), and one very wise writer advised me, in very kind words, to bear up; it was my duty to write.
I cannot, some fifteen years after the fact, recall her exact reply, but I do remember its essence:
You must write, if not for yourself, then for people who, whether directly affected by terrorism and war or not, still face daily struggles ranging from routine to monumental and seek escape from pain, loneliness, anxiety, boredom, or overwhelming responsibility if only for the time it takes to read a chapter, a novel, or watch a movie. You owe it to them to continue to write, to help distract them from whatever they seek to forget, so they can restore and refresh in order to resume whatever trials they must. You can't NOT write. That, would be selfish.
I was taken aback, not by any criticism or forcefulness within the post because there was none, but by the writer's perspective. I would like to say I immediately opened Word and went to work, but I can't say as I did. It took me a few days to wade past my grief and disbelief far enough to recognize the wisdom in those words.
Writers write. It's their job, the same as firemen and women fight fires, police police, and nurses nurse, regardless of personal feelings or trauma. Most writers--war correspondents and on-the-ground journalists aside--are not front line workers, but they still play an important role in an individual, or community, or nation's ability to access necessary or critical information, and the strength and resources necessary for healing. Something as simple as a message contained in a Tweet or Facebook post alerting friends and family to an individual's wellness--or not--can inspire relief, or communal giving, and sadly, sometimes grieving. A poem can incite peace or humor, a slogan or essay fury or forgiveness. Words are powerful.
Coincidentally, the year before the towers fell and her insightful encouragement, that same woman's powerful skills as a writer had helped me cope with punishing pain and depression born of botched abdominal surgery that nearly resulted in my death.
Anemic and stitched hipbone-to-hipbone, I could barely move out of bed or off the sofa. Fitful sleep offered escape only so long. Even if I managed to slumber twelve hours, there were an equal number of excruciating hours to fill, and the stack of novels I had prepared prior to surgery for the estimated six-week recovery time--extended to six months following the near-hemorrhage that halved my blood pressure and decimated my red blood cell count--offered no respite. Not one could hold my interest long enough to distract me from the pain and lethargy--until I pulled out an old favorite: OUTLANDER.
Yes, it was Diana Gabaldon who, in 2000, not only drew me out of my misery and into adventurous 18th-century Scotland, but a year later also gently challenged my belief of writing as a selfish occupation, and suggested I instead view it as it is: a gift, meant to be shared. And share I will.
I do not possess the knowledge, expertise, or skill set necessary to exterminate terrorists (much as I would like to), but I can write. And write I will. Because the moment anyone compels me or anyone else, through violence, or threat, or simple criticism to give up something dear, like writing, or travel, or a latte in a favored coffee shop with friends, they win. And as my mother once told my eldest son:
I cannot let you win this battle, because if you do, we both lose the war.
Deborah
They never die, who have the future in them. ~Meridel Le Sueur
*This post is dedicated to the victims and families of the Brussels attack. Eendracht maakt macht. L'union fait la force. Unity makes strength.*
I was taken aback, not by any criticism or forcefulness within the post because there was none, but by the writer's perspective. I would like to say I immediately opened Word and went to work, but I can't say as I did. It took me a few days to wade past my grief and disbelief far enough to recognize the wisdom in those words.
Writers write. It's their job, the same as firemen and women fight fires, police police, and nurses nurse, regardless of personal feelings or trauma. Most writers--war correspondents and on-the-ground journalists aside--are not front line workers, but they still play an important role in an individual, or community, or nation's ability to access necessary or critical information, and the strength and resources necessary for healing. Something as simple as a message contained in a Tweet or Facebook post alerting friends and family to an individual's wellness--or not--can inspire relief, or communal giving, and sadly, sometimes grieving. A poem can incite peace or humor, a slogan or essay fury or forgiveness. Words are powerful.
Coincidentally, the year before the towers fell and her insightful encouragement, that same woman's powerful skills as a writer had helped me cope with punishing pain and depression born of botched abdominal surgery that nearly resulted in my death.
Anemic and stitched hipbone-to-hipbone, I could barely move out of bed or off the sofa. Fitful sleep offered escape only so long. Even if I managed to slumber twelve hours, there were an equal number of excruciating hours to fill, and the stack of novels I had prepared prior to surgery for the estimated six-week recovery time--extended to six months following the near-hemorrhage that halved my blood pressure and decimated my red blood cell count--offered no respite. Not one could hold my interest long enough to distract me from the pain and lethargy--until I pulled out an old favorite: OUTLANDER.
Yes, it was Diana Gabaldon who, in 2000, not only drew me out of my misery and into adventurous 18th-century Scotland, but a year later also gently challenged my belief of writing as a selfish occupation, and suggested I instead view it as it is: a gift, meant to be shared. And share I will.
I do not possess the knowledge, expertise, or skill set necessary to exterminate terrorists (much as I would like to), but I can write. And write I will. Because the moment anyone compels me or anyone else, through violence, or threat, or simple criticism to give up something dear, like writing, or travel, or a latte in a favored coffee shop with friends, they win. And as my mother once told my eldest son:
I cannot let you win this battle, because if you do, we both lose the war.
Deborah
They never die, who have the future in them. ~Meridel Le Sueur
*This post is dedicated to the victims and families of the Brussels attack. Eendracht maakt macht. L'union fait la force. Unity makes strength.*
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
The End
Popping my head up out of my writing hole *blink, blink* to wave hello *waves* and confirm I am yet of this world. When I am not lost in a world of my own creation, which is exactly where I have been the last few months. .
Since October I have spent a lot of time in Georgian Britain. 1798 and Scotland, to be exact, and I could not have had more fun.
The Georgian era was a period of extravagance and paucity, male domination and wigs, war, political posturing, love, jealousy, heart-break, infidelity, and family shenanigans and secrets. So the only thing that really sets it apart from present day is the lack of electricity, running water, Smart phones and automobiles. Other than that, it's still a Kardashian world wrapped up with a historical bow minus gender reassignment; blood-letting being more the medicinal norm of the day.
That is not to say that people back then did not experience identity issues, or engage in physical, or sexual interests outside expected parameters (heterosexuality); they just did not admit openly to it under fear of persecution. Sodomy was a hanging offense, and yet despite the very real threat to their lives should they be found out, men of that era still established locations to congregate for the sole purpose of initiating assignations, meeting places known as Molly Houses.
A Molly House did not make it into my novel, the majority of which is set at my hero's fictional family estate in Scotland: Camberleigh Castle. There is reference, however, to a very real madhouse, Greatford Hall, a private insane asylum to which my heroine narrowly escapes involuntary admission.
The story was a delight to write, and I am only mildly saddened that I typed THE END yesterday at 7:35 PM, just fifteen minutes before I had to be at yoga class. Mildly saddened, because I know the real work has only just begun, and despite having typed THE END, I will revisit this story and its characters many times during revision and final edits before it ever totters off to Beta Readers and eventually, one day, an agent or editor's Inbox.
Oddly enough, this novel originated as a blog post for an annual Internet writing challenge held in April known as Blogging from A to Z Challenge. Tentatively titled A Darling for a Duke, the story grew from a seed of a scene I wrote for day B. Read it here.
That is the nature of writing. One never knows where she/he will find her inspiration. I wrote that initial scene back in 2013 and forgot about it until October 2015 when I was ready to return to the novel-writing trenches after a lengthy hiatus and I was reviewing the variety of partial scenes I'd written at various times over the years that never made it beyond a couple of pages, looking for something that resonated. Bollocks and Beginnings resonated, and...the rest is history, or more accurately in this case, Historical Romance.
So, if you have ever wondered where writers get their ideas, from experience, I can attest that ideas are...everywhere. It is what happens after the idea that counts: action. One simply has to sit down and work from Bollocks and Beginnings, to The End.
Deborah
There is a time for departure, even when there is no certain place to go. ~Tennessee Williams
.
Since October I have spent a lot of time in Georgian Britain. 1798 and Scotland, to be exact, and I could not have had more fun.
The Georgian era was a period of extravagance and paucity, male domination and wigs, war, political posturing, love, jealousy, heart-break, infidelity, and family shenanigans and secrets. So the only thing that really sets it apart from present day is the lack of electricity, running water, Smart phones and automobiles. Other than that, it's still a Kardashian world wrapped up with a historical bow minus gender reassignment; blood-letting being more the medicinal norm of the day.
That is not to say that people back then did not experience identity issues, or engage in physical, or sexual interests outside expected parameters (heterosexuality); they just did not admit openly to it under fear of persecution. Sodomy was a hanging offense, and yet despite the very real threat to their lives should they be found out, men of that era still established locations to congregate for the sole purpose of initiating assignations, meeting places known as Molly Houses.
A Molly House did not make it into my novel, the majority of which is set at my hero's fictional family estate in Scotland: Camberleigh Castle. There is reference, however, to a very real madhouse, Greatford Hall, a private insane asylum to which my heroine narrowly escapes involuntary admission.
The story was a delight to write, and I am only mildly saddened that I typed THE END yesterday at 7:35 PM, just fifteen minutes before I had to be at yoga class. Mildly saddened, because I know the real work has only just begun, and despite having typed THE END, I will revisit this story and its characters many times during revision and final edits before it ever totters off to Beta Readers and eventually, one day, an agent or editor's Inbox.
Oddly enough, this novel originated as a blog post for an annual Internet writing challenge held in April known as Blogging from A to Z Challenge. Tentatively titled A Darling for a Duke, the story grew from a seed of a scene I wrote for day B. Read it here.
That is the nature of writing. One never knows where she/he will find her inspiration. I wrote that initial scene back in 2013 and forgot about it until October 2015 when I was ready to return to the novel-writing trenches after a lengthy hiatus and I was reviewing the variety of partial scenes I'd written at various times over the years that never made it beyond a couple of pages, looking for something that resonated. Bollocks and Beginnings resonated, and...the rest is history, or more accurately in this case, Historical Romance.
So, if you have ever wondered where writers get their ideas, from experience, I can attest that ideas are...everywhere. It is what happens after the idea that counts: action. One simply has to sit down and work from Bollocks and Beginnings, to The End.
Deborah
There is a time for departure, even when there is no certain place to go. ~Tennessee Williams
.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Saturated
I've been scarce lately. Online, that is. My family still finds me routinely annoying in person, but fortunately they love me enough to pretend I'm interesting.
Interesting.
I've been musing that word for a while now, as it is in essence the reason I've been avoiding social media for months. I no longer find it interesting. I'm numb. Saturated. Cooked. Boiled. Sodden...however you want to describe it, I am full to here with Social Media. So, for peace of mind and care of soul, I have consciously stepped back, stopped adding to incessant online noise and turned inward, and toward, more personal interactions.
I joined Yoga. With a friend. It's wonderful. Not only the flexibility and relief from tension I'm enjoying, but the twice-weekly face-to-face chats I have with my friend. I love it. I love her. There's some conversations you just can't have over a smart phone. Texts and voicemail messages have their place, but they should not replace real relationships. I'm also writing more. It feels good.
I am not saying that I don't love Social Media. OK, I am saying that I don't love Social Media. But nor do I hate it. I'm simply full, uncomfortable the way one is after over-indulging on Turkey, mashed potatoes, and wine at Christmas dinner. I need to get up and walk it off, unbutton my jeans and breathe, vow to drink nothing but Kale juice and water for the next six months until I can sit down again without feeling like I might pop. So...
If you've wondered, I am here. Just not Here. As much.
For now.
D.
Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be, because sooner or later, if you are posing, you will forget the pose, and then where are you? Fanny Brice
Interesting.
I've been musing that word for a while now, as it is in essence the reason I've been avoiding social media for months. I no longer find it interesting. I'm numb. Saturated. Cooked. Boiled. Sodden...however you want to describe it, I am full to here with Social Media. So, for peace of mind and care of soul, I have consciously stepped back, stopped adding to incessant online noise and turned inward, and toward, more personal interactions.
I joined Yoga. With a friend. It's wonderful. Not only the flexibility and relief from tension I'm enjoying, but the twice-weekly face-to-face chats I have with my friend. I love it. I love her. There's some conversations you just can't have over a smart phone. Texts and voicemail messages have their place, but they should not replace real relationships. I'm also writing more. It feels good.
I am not saying that I don't love Social Media. OK, I am saying that I don't love Social Media. But nor do I hate it. I'm simply full, uncomfortable the way one is after over-indulging on Turkey, mashed potatoes, and wine at Christmas dinner. I need to get up and walk it off, unbutton my jeans and breathe, vow to drink nothing but Kale juice and water for the next six months until I can sit down again without feeling like I might pop. So...
If you've wondered, I am here. Just not Here. As much.
For now.
D.
Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be, because sooner or later, if you are posing, you will forget the pose, and then where are you? Fanny Brice
Thursday, July 30, 2015
I Want, I Will
My daughter and son-in-law are moving over 700 kms this coming weekend to start new jobs in a city much closer to family and friends. Changing jobs and moving is not particularly unusual, but the speed at which Daughter and SIL implemented change in their life, is.
They decided in late June they wanted to move closer to family. By mid July they had each interviewed for and accepted new jobs, resigned from old ones and gave notice to their landlord. The weekend after they accepted their new positions, their basement suite was devoid of their belongings save an air mattress and necessary clothing/hygiene items to sustain them until they find new lodgings, patched and painted (by SIL and his mother and father), and in the last couple of days they shampooed the carpets and cleaned the suite; tomorrow they depart. It took all of two weeks.
Two weeks from interview to gone, and only four weeks from the time they decided to make a monumental life-style change, to when they'll be living it. And that is the beauty of being young, childless, and mortgage-free. They have the ability to just pack up and go where the Want and Will take them.
Want and Will, critical ingredients to making anything happen, whether it's a job change, house change, marital-status change, diet-exercise change, hair-style change. Without Want, there will be no Will, because Will will not flourish in lack of Want. But if you Want it...
Ever woke up on a Sunday morning to discover the coffee tin empty? Did you settle for sipping hot water while you flipped through the local hardware store flyer, or did you throw on a hat and sweatpants and drive as far as you needed to find A) an open coffee shop, or B) an open grocery store? (Guilty).
How about waiting in line, or redialing like mad, or taking a day off work just to grab tickets to your favorite concert artist? Ever pay more than face-value just so you could go? Beg, borrow, or moonlight to come up with the cash? Sacrificed lattes for a month, or girls' night to afford the price of admission? Yeah. Me too. Because Want gives you the Will to make it happen. But what if there's something you Want that just isn't happening, no matter how much Will you apply?
You give up writing.
Just joking!! (if you didn't snort or get the joke, you're not a writer, but that's okay).
Seriously, if you're not seeing results for something you Want despite pouring your Will into it, maybe it's time to step back and reassess. I've done that with my writing.
In 1997 I started writing a coming-of-age story set in 1912. In 1999 I finished it, all 1000+ pages of it, quite an accomplishment given I had four children aged newborn to nine at the time. I then spent the next year editing it down to 140,000 words. In 2001 I landed a literary agent who had me pare it down more. Though I wasn't happy about carving more out of my baby, and in some cases excising entire chapters and sub-plots, I did it. Satisfied with the 120,000 word result, said agent put the manuscript on submission. I wrote the sequel. Eleven editor rejections later, agent advised me the first manuscript hadn't sold, so to shelve the sequel and write something else. I did. Agent was not interested. Agent and I parted ways, and I started querying agents again. A few more rejections, and I shelved all three books. And wrote nothing else. That was 2005. (Four kids playing different competitive sports and a full time job kind of sucks the energy for anything but sleep in the down time).
Fast-forward to 2010. Kids are older. Two have graduated. I revise and decide to start querying first book again, while I write something completely different. Different characters. Different setting. Different time period. It's almost finished when I develop a serious health-issue related to my full-time paid job. I step back, reassess, and decide to shelve all writing, and work, and focus on my health and family. Four years later, in a different home in a different city living a different life-style, the only thing that remains the same is my Want to write. So I am back in the query trench with book one, revising book two, and writing book five, again in a completely different setting and time period than either book one, two, or four (though they're all historical romances; the third is psychological thriller). Why?
Because when I stepped back and reassessed my writing goals, I came to the conclusion that I Want to write, but I am not as attached to a specific time period, setting, or genre, as I am to the craft itself, with the ultimate goal of being published. If that means I change genre, time-period, setting, my wardrobe, or the location of my desk in my office to make it happen, that's what will happen.
Because I Want it, I will Will it.
A day, a week, a year...what the hell, it's been 18 years, and the Want to write has not abandoned me. I will not abandon it. And it Will happen.
DA
He that would have fruit must climb the tree. ~Thomas Fuller
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Summer Tidings
Summer is my favorite season. The hotter the better. While my dear hubs grumbles and lumbers around like a polar bear meandering the Sahara in search of water and shade, I bask like a lizard in the glow of 90+ degrees. I would make a good Tropical transplant. Hubs, not so much.
This summer is one of the best so far of the last few years. 2011 was work/health-related drama and trauma; 2012 ushered in total life-style turmoil as we faced a big move for work. 2013 was a mixed bag of emotions as our house lingered on a flat real-estate market, a glitch in our move plans that enabled us to help with Daughter's wedding; and trust me, it's easier to plan/organize/and assist with a wedding when you live in the same town, than it is when you're 400 miles away (as I'm learning this year). 2014 proved insane as the house finally sold and we ended up homeless for two months. Summer 2015, however, is proving to be the summer that makes up for it all.
Youngest graduated in June. Sister hosted the fantastic family BBQ held to celebrate said youngest's accomplishment (who am I trying to fool? It was a party for Hubs and I to recognize OUR achievement in seeing four children through a combined 52 years of schooling. Go us!), and soon our family will come together again to celebrate mine and Hub's 20th wedding anniversary. And that's only a small part of the delight this summer brings.
Also on the agenda:
Bridal shower and Stag for soon-to-be-Daughter-in-Law and Son respectively
A 50th Birthday celebration for friends
Trip to Softball City to cheer on cousin's daughter who's playing in Western Canadian Fastpitch Championship
Helping Daughter move back to BC
Helping Mother move closer to me (after four years she finally SOLD!)
and
A San Diego trip with friends.
To say I'm excited, is to say Donald Trump likes to express his opinion. It's a stellar summer so far, and will only get better. Surprisingly, with all the big events to attend/plan/organize, I am writing. More than ever. And loving it. Busy is, as busy does. Speaking of busy...
Have to run. Son's lacrosse game starts in twenty minutes.
The white light streams down to be broken up by those human prisms into all the colors of the rainbow. Take your own color in the pattern and be just that. ~Charles R. Brown
This summer is one of the best so far of the last few years. 2011 was work/health-related drama and trauma; 2012 ushered in total life-style turmoil as we faced a big move for work. 2013 was a mixed bag of emotions as our house lingered on a flat real-estate market, a glitch in our move plans that enabled us to help with Daughter's wedding; and trust me, it's easier to plan/organize/and assist with a wedding when you live in the same town, than it is when you're 400 miles away (as I'm learning this year). 2014 proved insane as the house finally sold and we ended up homeless for two months. Summer 2015, however, is proving to be the summer that makes up for it all.
Youngest graduated in June. Sister hosted the fantastic family BBQ held to celebrate said youngest's accomplishment (who am I trying to fool? It was a party for Hubs and I to recognize OUR achievement in seeing four children through a combined 52 years of schooling. Go us!), and soon our family will come together again to celebrate mine and Hub's 20th wedding anniversary. And that's only a small part of the delight this summer brings.
Also on the agenda:
Bridal shower and Stag for soon-to-be-Daughter-in-Law and Son respectively
A 50th Birthday celebration for friends
Trip to Softball City to cheer on cousin's daughter who's playing in Western Canadian Fastpitch Championship
Helping Daughter move back to BC
Helping Mother move closer to me (after four years she finally SOLD!)
and
A San Diego trip with friends.
To say I'm excited, is to say Donald Trump likes to express his opinion. It's a stellar summer so far, and will only get better. Surprisingly, with all the big events to attend/plan/organize, I am writing. More than ever. And loving it. Busy is, as busy does. Speaking of busy...
Have to run. Son's lacrosse game starts in twenty minutes.
The white light streams down to be broken up by those human prisms into all the colors of the rainbow. Take your own color in the pattern and be just that. ~Charles R. Brown
Thursday, September 19, 2013
The End is only the Beginning...
This week's been about "finishing". Finishing All That Matters, the sequel to Everything That Matters. Finishing reviewing Beta Reader comments and typo/spelling error notes on ETM and tidying it up for submission. Finishing my "library". Oddly enough, it is the library I am--currently--most excited about.
Refuge...research area; a place to be, or be productive. How about you? Do you have a special place to read, or if you're a writer, write? If you're a writer, are you, like me, on the quest for publication, or busy juggling publishing demands? Please share in the comments!
Deborah
Every noble work is at first impossible. ~Thomas Carlyle
Refuge...research area; a place to be, or be productive. How about you? Do you have a special place to read, or if you're a writer, write? If you're a writer, are you, like me, on the quest for publication, or busy juggling publishing demands? Please share in the comments!
Deborah
Every noble work is at first impossible. ~Thomas Carlyle
Friday, September 13, 2013
Celebrate the Small Things Friday!
I've been MIA most of the summer, busy with daughter's wedding, multiple long road trips, and attempting to sell the house, the first of which came to a successful and oh, so wonderful conclusion--I have an awesome son-in-law!; the second plum wore me out; and the latter proved less than successful. And yet I'm celebrating it.
You see, my husband's presence is currently needed in his old work place, so his relocation requirement has been suspended temporarily, meaning we're able to take the house off the market and allow our kids to focus on school instead of a cloud of anxiety wondering where they're going to live in a month, or three. We'll re-list in the spring with a plan to move next summer, but all I can say is thank dog we did not sell this summer. If we had, the kids and I would be, as we were most of last year, separated from my husband by over 400 miles, only in reverse. Now we get to live under one roof, at least until the work concerns are sorted out. So, yes, I'm celebrating--not the issues that led to his being back in his old office--but that we can live as a family again for at least a little while (and he can help the kids with math, 'cause dog knows that's not my strong suit).
Another thing I'm celebrating is a return to routine. I feel like I can finally relax and focus on things other than nicks and dings in the baseboard and smudges on the walls and windows; weeds in the flower beds, dust on the furniture, cat hair on the rugs and sofa, and whether I remembered to flush the toilets or leave the lights on in the basement for the showing; or to book hair appointments and call the florist or limousine service to confirm orders and pay deposits. To add a little shimmer to my simpler September, Summer decided to stick around and keep things toasty. Sun and warm temperature lover that I am, this pleases me to no end.
A few other reasons I'm tapping my toes and humming this week:
I resumed a workout routine.
I'm back to work on my novels.
I'm reading someone else's novel.
I bought a chair, ottoman, and side table to furnish my "library" (moved my office to an empty bedroom to reinvent my old office space as a sitting room). Will post pics once order arrives and is set up.
A few friends either have new books out, or debut books coming out in the near future.
My boys continue to excel in school and at home despite the emotional upheaval they've had to face the last year.
Christmas is only 102 days away!
What's got you humming this week?
Deborah
It's astonishing in this world how things don't turn out at all the way you expect them to. ~Agatha Christie
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Priceless Tidbits
When you live in a small rural town with an even smaller library, the Internet is often extremely helpful, if only to help narrow the focus to one or two excellent resources the librarian can have brought in, or one can order online. And every now and then, you come across a priceless tidbit that requires no pre-ordering, as I did today.
What was I looking for?
The name of a ship that traveled from New York to the UK in late September or very early October 1914. As Britain was at war by this time (WWI having begun less than two months prior) passenger ships were few and far between (many having been confined to port due to threat of German U-Boats, or converted to troop ships to transport soldiers to the Front). But lo and behold, through a circuitous route of webpages, I stumbled upon something better than a ship's manifest (that simply lists passenger names, or ports of call), I found a diary kept by someone who actually completed the very journey my character would have had to take was she truly alive in the day.
The ship's name?
RMS Olympic, first of the three sister-ocean liners launched by White Star Line (the other two being the ill-fated Titanic, and Britannic). And the real person? Clarence V. Mitchell, who traveled to Britain, and on to France to join the Military Ambulance during the early months of WWI. Learn more about him and his experience, here.
There is a place for the Internet in research. Hopefully you won't spend hours scrolling and clicking to find a single name as I did, but sometimes you might. Such is the craft of writing.
Deborah
Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to industry. ~Benjamin Franklin
What was I looking for?
The name of a ship that traveled from New York to the UK in late September or very early October 1914. As Britain was at war by this time (WWI having begun less than two months prior) passenger ships were few and far between (many having been confined to port due to threat of German U-Boats, or converted to troop ships to transport soldiers to the Front). But lo and behold, through a circuitous route of webpages, I stumbled upon something better than a ship's manifest (that simply lists passenger names, or ports of call), I found a diary kept by someone who actually completed the very journey my character would have had to take was she truly alive in the day.
The ship's name?
RMS Olympic, first of the three sister-ocean liners launched by White Star Line (the other two being the ill-fated Titanic, and Britannic). And the real person? Clarence V. Mitchell, who traveled to Britain, and on to France to join the Military Ambulance during the early months of WWI. Learn more about him and his experience, here.
There is a place for the Internet in research. Hopefully you won't spend hours scrolling and clicking to find a single name as I did, but sometimes you might. Such is the craft of writing.
Deborah
Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to industry. ~Benjamin Franklin
Monday, July 8, 2013
Live. Laugh. Love.
Live. Laugh. Love.
These three words crown the French doors leading to my deck. I put them there, in plain view of the living room sofa and recliner, to remind me what's important in life.
When things get tough, as they do at times, I only need to look up: Live, Laugh, Love.
And I do.
Deborah
All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection. ~William Faulkner
These three words crown the French doors leading to my deck. I put them there, in plain view of the living room sofa and recliner, to remind me what's important in life.
When things get tough, as they do at times, I only need to look up: Live, Laugh, Love.
And I do.
Deborah
All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection. ~William Faulkner
Thursday, June 13, 2013
The Hard Way
My first novel, Everything That Matters, is in the competent hands of a BETA reader, but that does not mean I am resting on my laurels, or lounging by the pool (if I had one) sipping Electric Lemonade (mix me one?). No, I am hard at work on ETM's sequel, All That Matters, and when I say hard, I mean the last few writing sessions have been, shall we say, excruciating? (imagine solving a rubix cube while wearing a blindfold).
That's the problem with resuming a partially completed draft some two years after you set it aside; you've lost the flow. It's kind of like coming into the theater half-way through a movie--you don't have a solid grasp of the story-line, or clear understanding of the characters' motivation. So you have to rewind, which in novel-writing means you print off what you have and read it in its entirety, figure out where the holes are, and decide how best to fill them. This is easier said than done.
At least for me.
I am, usually, a linear writer. This means I start at the beginning and write chapter by chapter to The End. But with All That Matters, for some reason, about part way through I started writing chunks(actually, I know why I started writing in chunks--I was working full-time at a day job; with family and other obligations, I had very little free time after work to write, so I squeezed it in at work before my shift (and after if I had to wait on my car-pool partner) or during my lunch hour, but I did not have the MS at work, so I wrote whatever scenes popped in my head and emailed them home to paste into the main body), which means...
I have a number of out-of-sequence scenes that require bridging. Bridging? Connecting scenes to tie the chunks to the rest of the story in what will eventually be--hopefully--a coherent and seamless story. Some people, like Diana Gabaldon, are adept at doing this. I am not.
I'm a ladder climber, not a rock climber. I prefer moving ahead one rung at a time, not feeling my way along a rock face looking for hand and foot holds, yet that is, metaphorically, what I am doing. So I am moving slower than normal, and I have to pause periodically to figure out where I am in relation to where I have to go, so I can determine the best--not necessarily the quickest--route to the next anchor to tie off my line. Fortunately, today was a good day and the bridging scene not as difficult to write, unless you count the tears when I wrote a particularly emotional section (love those moments!). More importantly, I am happy.
I love a challenge. I love writing. And ATM allows me to delight in both.
What about you? If you're a writer, are you linear, or chunk? And if a reader, can you tell when you read a story if the author wrote it in chunks, or a straight go? No? Me neither. And I hope when ATM is all said and done, no one (except you of course) will know it wasn't as smooth to write, as it should be to read.
I welcome your comments!
Deborah
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it without knowing what's going to happen next. ~Gilda Radner
That's the problem with resuming a partially completed draft some two years after you set it aside; you've lost the flow. It's kind of like coming into the theater half-way through a movie--you don't have a solid grasp of the story-line, or clear understanding of the characters' motivation. So you have to rewind, which in novel-writing means you print off what you have and read it in its entirety, figure out where the holes are, and decide how best to fill them. This is easier said than done.
At least for me.
I am, usually, a linear writer. This means I start at the beginning and write chapter by chapter to The End. But with All That Matters, for some reason, about part way through I started writing chunks(actually, I know why I started writing in chunks--I was working full-time at a day job; with family and other obligations, I had very little free time after work to write, so I squeezed it in at work before my shift (and after if I had to wait on my car-pool partner) or during my lunch hour, but I did not have the MS at work, so I wrote whatever scenes popped in my head and emailed them home to paste into the main body), which means...
I have a number of out-of-sequence scenes that require bridging. Bridging? Connecting scenes to tie the chunks to the rest of the story in what will eventually be--hopefully--a coherent and seamless story. Some people, like Diana Gabaldon, are adept at doing this. I am not.
I'm a ladder climber, not a rock climber. I prefer moving ahead one rung at a time, not feeling my way along a rock face looking for hand and foot holds, yet that is, metaphorically, what I am doing. So I am moving slower than normal, and I have to pause periodically to figure out where I am in relation to where I have to go, so I can determine the best--not necessarily the quickest--route to the next anchor to tie off my line. Fortunately, today was a good day and the bridging scene not as difficult to write, unless you count the tears when I wrote a particularly emotional section (love those moments!). More importantly, I am happy.
I love a challenge. I love writing. And ATM allows me to delight in both.
What about you? If you're a writer, are you linear, or chunk? And if a reader, can you tell when you read a story if the author wrote it in chunks, or a straight go? No? Me neither. And I hope when ATM is all said and done, no one (except you of course) will know it wasn't as smooth to write, as it should be to read.
I welcome your comments!
Deborah
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it without knowing what's going to happen next. ~Gilda Radner
Friday, May 24, 2013
Celebrate the Small Things Friday
Another great week and wonderful things to celebrate…
1) I
am half-way through the initial review pass of ALL THAT MATTERS, and I cried
too many times to count; I even had to walk away from the edits because I was
so emotional. This is definitely worth celebrating. It's also kind of surreal.
2) I
bought three new novels last week, and started reading the first, THE MARRYING
SEASON by Candace Camp, a delightful—so far—read. Up next are Stuart Woods's STRATEGIC
MOVES, and Dan Brown's INFERNO.
3) I
already received two RSVPs for daughter's bridal shower.
4) I
had another showing last week, as did my mother (we both have our homes listed
for sale); no offers yet, though the feedback was positive.
5) Sons'
third-term report cards arrived—both boys have As and Bs.
6) I
learned how to "optimize" Search Engines by adding a plug-in to my new website and adding keywords to help make it easier to "find" on
the web.
7) Daughter
and soon-to-be son-in-law popped in for surprise visit.
8) Daughter
starts her new job Monday!
9) Eldest
got to go shopping for a new fridge this week after his old fridge expired (always
look for the silver-lining!).
10) Had
a good phone chat with an out-of-town friend (who will be an in-town friend
once I get moved!)
11) Enjoyed
a coffee date with a current in-town friend.
12) Everyone
I know is safe and their homes intact. My prayers to the people of Oklahoma.
13) Youngest
child's visits to Chiropractor seem to have helped.
14) Received
information on an employment contract I'm considering.
15) The
last load of laundry is in the washer.
16) Oh,
and the sun shone today, after a two-day deluge.
I truly appreciate this Celebrate the Small Things Friday
routine. It's an inspiring way to end a week—by reviewing and recounting the
good things, no matter how small, instead of rueing the bad. If you're a
blogger and interested in participating, check out VikLit's blog. If you're a
reader, you can play along at home—all you need is a notepad and pen. J
And if you're of a mind, please share in the comments what you're celebrating
this week.
Take care and stay safe,
Deborah
Stop worrying about
the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey! ~Barbara Hoffman
Friday, May 17, 2013
Friday Round Up
Well, it's been a busy week. And a good week. I created more pages on my website, and I started reviewing (and editing, of course, because I can't read without fixing) the sequel to Everything That Matters.
All That Matters is about 3/4 complete (245 pages or so) and I haven't looked at it in a few years. Amazing what a few years can do to one's perspective.
The over-writing is glaring and obvious. And much as I'd like to skim the story to figure out where I left the reins dangling, I have to clean as I go. I'm that way with housework, too.
I start in the kitchen, but on the way to the bedroom to put away the folded laundry left on the counter, I end up clearing the dresser top. And making the bed. Then running the half-full laundry basket downstairs to top up the washer load. Back upstairs, I leave the hamper in the hall as I reroute to the kitchen and resume tidying. At some point, I'll return the hamper to its proper place and while I'm in the bedroom, I'll probably clean the closet, or realize the en-suite mirrors need a spritz and swipe. This is how I work. Circuitous, yet methodical.
I see a mess, or something out of place, I must tidy it or put it away, before moving on to the next thing. The same is true with writing.
I must clean (edit) what I encounter so I can move on to the next thing.
What about you? Are you stack and sort later kind of person, or do you need to put things away as you go? If you're a writer, are you able to skim the existing story on the way to the holes that need filling aware you'll come back and edit later, or do you edit as you go?
Please share. I welcome comments!
Deborah
Without the aid of prejudice and custom, I should not be able to find my way across the room. ~William Hazlitt
All That Matters is about 3/4 complete (245 pages or so) and I haven't looked at it in a few years. Amazing what a few years can do to one's perspective.
The over-writing is glaring and obvious. And much as I'd like to skim the story to figure out where I left the reins dangling, I have to clean as I go. I'm that way with housework, too.
I start in the kitchen, but on the way to the bedroom to put away the folded laundry left on the counter, I end up clearing the dresser top. And making the bed. Then running the half-full laundry basket downstairs to top up the washer load. Back upstairs, I leave the hamper in the hall as I reroute to the kitchen and resume tidying. At some point, I'll return the hamper to its proper place and while I'm in the bedroom, I'll probably clean the closet, or realize the en-suite mirrors need a spritz and swipe. This is how I work. Circuitous, yet methodical.
I see a mess, or something out of place, I must tidy it or put it away, before moving on to the next thing. The same is true with writing.
I must clean (edit) what I encounter so I can move on to the next thing.
What about you? Are you stack and sort later kind of person, or do you need to put things away as you go? If you're a writer, are you able to skim the existing story on the way to the holes that need filling aware you'll come back and edit later, or do you edit as you go?
Please share. I welcome comments!
Deborah
Without the aid of prejudice and custom, I should not be able to find my way across the room. ~William Hazlitt
Friday, May 10, 2013
If it's Friday, it must be time to Celebrate The Small Things!
I joined Celebrate the Small Things Friday blog hop a while ago. The inspiration of Viklit over at Scribblings of an Aspiring Author. And great inspiration it is!
I have much to celebrate this week. On Monday, I finished the second-pass polish edits on my novel, Everything That Matters, and on Wednesday I sent it to a second Beta reader. And yesterday, I started building my website. I'm only so far as choosing a Word Press theme and creating two pages--the first page and the author bio page.
Building a website is not so easy as the "one click" advertisement. There's a lot that goes into a website...style, content, pictures. But I'm learning, and actually enjoying the process. Now If I can figure out how to link this blog to my website...or maybe I'll have to import the content to the website? I know not. Yet. But I will. Soon. And that's another thing to celebrate...persistence!
My mother will confirm, I have it (persistence) in spades, the ability to keep at a problem--like why can't I buy my own car?--until I succeed (thanks, Mom! (and dad, whose comment, "You can stop her buying a car but you can't stop her growing up (or some variation thereof--it's been a few years. Okay, thirty))), and though at times my bull-headed refusal to give up on some things has caused me, and maybe others, more than a little grief, it has also served me well.
I never give up on my kids. Ever. Even when they want me to.
I've never given up on writing, even when I wanted to.
I don't quit friends, though some have quit me.
I stick with healthy eating, and exercise, even when I'd rather not (which is almost daily).
I insist on working to keep my house clean, even when history (and long-haired cats and negligent teenagers) has proven it a pipe dream to achieve beyond the amount of time it takes me to let aforementioned critters loose in the house again.
And I continue to blog not knowing if anyone reads. (Hello? *waves*)
Other delightful things I'm celebrating this week:
Hubby's home.
Daughter landed an awesome job.
I wrestled Word and my printer into submission to create custom Bridal Shower Invitations (for said daughter who's getting married this year! *gulp*)
The sun is shining, and has shone all week, with temperatures more understandable in late July than early May--not that I'm complaining, because I'm definitely not.
#3 child and I helped my mom with her lawn and weed-whacking.
I bought chocolate. And red wine. And tonight I'll indulge in both with sister who's coming over to help stuff and address Shower invites for mailing.
What about you? What is one quality you possess that some might attach a negative connotation (stubborn vs. persistent) that has served you well? And, what are you celebrating this week?
Please share in the comments. I love to learn what bright spots are lighting people's lives.
Take care!
Deborah
The happiest excitement in life is to be convinced that one is fighting for all one is worth on behalf of some clearly seen and deeply felt good. ~ Ruth Benedict
I have much to celebrate this week. On Monday, I finished the second-pass polish edits on my novel, Everything That Matters, and on Wednesday I sent it to a second Beta reader. And yesterday, I started building my website. I'm only so far as choosing a Word Press theme and creating two pages--the first page and the author bio page.
Building a website is not so easy as the "one click" advertisement. There's a lot that goes into a website...style, content, pictures. But I'm learning, and actually enjoying the process. Now If I can figure out how to link this blog to my website...or maybe I'll have to import the content to the website? I know not. Yet. But I will. Soon. And that's another thing to celebrate...persistence!
My mother will confirm, I have it (persistence) in spades, the ability to keep at a problem--like why can't I buy my own car?--until I succeed (thanks, Mom! (and dad, whose comment, "You can stop her buying a car but you can't stop her growing up (or some variation thereof--it's been a few years. Okay, thirty))), and though at times my bull-headed refusal to give up on some things has caused me, and maybe others, more than a little grief, it has also served me well.
I never give up on my kids. Ever. Even when they want me to.
I've never given up on writing, even when I wanted to.
I don't quit friends, though some have quit me.
I stick with healthy eating, and exercise, even when I'd rather not (which is almost daily).
I insist on working to keep my house clean, even when history (and long-haired cats and negligent teenagers) has proven it a pipe dream to achieve beyond the amount of time it takes me to let aforementioned critters loose in the house again.
And I continue to blog not knowing if anyone reads. (Hello? *waves*)
Other delightful things I'm celebrating this week:
Hubby's home.
Daughter landed an awesome job.
I wrestled Word and my printer into submission to create custom Bridal Shower Invitations (for said daughter who's getting married this year! *gulp*)
The sun is shining, and has shone all week, with temperatures more understandable in late July than early May--not that I'm complaining, because I'm definitely not.
#3 child and I helped my mom with her lawn and weed-whacking.
I bought chocolate. And red wine. And tonight I'll indulge in both with sister who's coming over to help stuff and address Shower invites for mailing.
What about you? What is one quality you possess that some might attach a negative connotation (stubborn vs. persistent) that has served you well? And, what are you celebrating this week?
Please share in the comments. I love to learn what bright spots are lighting people's lives.
Take care!
Deborah
The happiest excitement in life is to be convinced that one is fighting for all one is worth on behalf of some clearly seen and deeply felt good. ~ Ruth Benedict
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Did it!
I finished the edits on Everything That Matters (working title). At least I believe so.
I still have to print off another hard copy and review, ensure I did not miss any nits found by my daughter, or miss--or double-up-on--chapter numbers, headings, etc., but as far as the heavy work goes (as in, rewriting the majority of the first two-thirds of the book) I'm done. And I owe it all to my daughter, and the A to Z Challenge.
My daughter--who is a tough critic, known for tossing novels with misspellings or implausible storylines--actually like this version. She's read other versions. She did not like those versions. But this one...this one she said dragged her in and held her, all the way to the end. That is a much bigger achievement than you might believe. My daughter is smart, well read, and not afraid of The Truth, which is why I asked her to read it. I knew she wouldn't blow daisies up my...
Daughter's "thumbs up", and tackling the challenge, gave me the confidence, impetus, and consistency I needed to work through distractions and insecurities to The End. I even forwent the Canucks game tonight--first game of the first round of playoffs--to finish the edits, not that I have anything to regret. The Canucks lost. And I won. *happy dance*
Of course, I have no idea what the future holds for my novel, or for me, and that's okay. All that matters is I keep moving forward, one hip-gyrating dance-step at a time!
How about you? What are you celebrating today, or this week? Who do you have in your corner, willing to toss darts, or confetti, as necessary? Please share. I have extra confetti, and the darts are safely stored away.
Deborah
Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much ~Helen Keller
I still have to print off another hard copy and review, ensure I did not miss any nits found by my daughter, or miss--or double-up-on--chapter numbers, headings, etc., but as far as the heavy work goes (as in, rewriting the majority of the first two-thirds of the book) I'm done. And I owe it all to my daughter, and the A to Z Challenge.
My daughter--who is a tough critic, known for tossing novels with misspellings or implausible storylines--actually like this version. She's read other versions. She did not like those versions. But this one...this one she said dragged her in and held her, all the way to the end. That is a much bigger achievement than you might believe. My daughter is smart, well read, and not afraid of The Truth, which is why I asked her to read it. I knew she wouldn't blow daisies up my...
Daughter's "thumbs up", and tackling the challenge, gave me the confidence, impetus, and consistency I needed to work through distractions and insecurities to The End. I even forwent the Canucks game tonight--first game of the first round of playoffs--to finish the edits, not that I have anything to regret. The Canucks lost. And I won. *happy dance*
Of course, I have no idea what the future holds for my novel, or for me, and that's okay. All that matters is I keep moving forward, one hip-gyrating dance-step at a time!
How about you? What are you celebrating today, or this week? Who do you have in your corner, willing to toss darts, or confetti, as necessary? Please share. I have extra confetti, and the darts are safely stored away.
Deborah
Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much ~Helen Keller
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Z is for…
Final day, final letter of the A to Z Challenge. This is...
Z – END
Thank you so much for sharing this challenge with me. You
are the reason I write.
Deborah
It takes two flints to
make a fire. ~Louisa May Alcott
Monday, April 29, 2013
Y is for Yippee! and You
Second to last day of the A to Z Challenge, and I am almost all lettered out. And totally chuffed.
I decided to sign up for A to Z to
challenge myself—no, to prove to myself, that I was better. Healed. Well enough
to pick up the stiff, dry and cracked reins of my authorial dreams, get back in
the saddle, and regain my balance, rebuild the strength and suppleness of mind
and creativity atrophied after a couple of painful years, literally and
figuratively. And Yippee! I am.
This is my twenty-fifth post for the month of April.
Tomorrow will be the last post of this challenge, but not the last post of this
blog. More importantly, I have proven to myself that I am able, I am capable,
and I can find the time/space necessary to write, even if it's only a 500-word
blog post. Now it's time to take off the kid-gloves and get busy polishing my
MS for the editors that requested it.
I hope said editors forgive me delaying submission; I needed
to ensure I was physically capable of managing time and writing requirements
should I receive a positive response to my manuscript. No sense applying for a
job I am physically incapable of performing, and these opportunities are too
precious to squander (haste, often makes waste). So, it is with a light heart
that I look forward to May, and another Yippee! when I have a shiny MS to
submit. There is only one other stop my MS needs to make before it goes to the
editors…you.
Yes. You, aka Beta Reader. Someone who loves to read, in
particular romance, and is willing to read and offer constructive criticism,
i.e. "Your heroine started out strong in the first chapter, but by chapter
three she devolved in a sobbing patsy, see pg () and her reaction to []."
Or, "I just can't buy into the hero. He's too nice/nasty/geeky/vague/cliché/standoffish.
For example…" Or, "Your heroine's father has multiple personalities;
he went by George in the second chapter, Gary in the eighth, and Rufus in the
final chapter. ;)", or, "You seriously need to work on homonyms, she
prayed for peace, not piece!" (Okay, maybe not _that_ critical. Writers
are tender-hearted folks; a simple highlighting of misspelled or grammatically
incorrect words will do. J).
So, if you're interested in reading the finished manuscript
and providing feedback on the story, characters, spelling/grammar, etc., and
can do so in a timely manner (two-to-three-week turn-a-round would be great), please
email me (forgive the long form address (but not the spammers that make it
necessary)):
debaanderson at gmail dot com
Thank you.
Deborah
The harder the
conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheaply, we esteem
too lightly; 'tis dearness only that gives everything its value. ~Thomas
Paine
Saturday, April 27, 2013
X is for Xenophobia
So close to the end of the A to Z Challenge...letter X today...
Xenophobia = Chauvinism, intolerance, racism, prejudice; it makes or breaks character, and fiction.
So, when writing fiction, whether historical or contemporary, do your homework. And don't always play nice.
Good fiction, especially historical fiction, contains elements of bad behavior and politically incorrect policy; don't be afraid to write it like it was. When reading historical fiction, please, resist the urge to judge character behavior, thought, and language against today's standards. What we value now was not necessarily valued then, just as our accomplishments and failures of today will no doubt be some future writer or reader's head-shaking research of bygone days. And if you want to read excellent fiction where historical fact is seamlessly weaved into great story, check out Diana Gabaldon. She's truly one of the masters of historical fiction.
Deborah
Our ignorance of history makes us libel to our own times. People have always been like this. ~ Gustave Flaubert (1860-1880)
Xenophobia = Chauvinism, intolerance, racism, prejudice; it makes or breaks character, and fiction.
Martin Luther King Jr., Oprah Winfrey, Norma Ray, the suffragettes, gay men and women...past and present examples of real-life individuals and groups fighting for recognition, respect, and the same rights persons of other colors, genders, or marital status, enjoy. And whether we like it or not, xenophobia is necessary to certain types of fiction, in particular historical.
The men and women of earlier eras did not think and behave, or experience the same privileges we do now. In Canada, women have had the right to vote in federal elections for less than one hundred years. 1918 was the year the Canadian Government passed the Women's Franchise Act. American women had to wait a little a longer--August 26, 1920 to be exact. In Britain, women gained a partial victory when women over thirty-years-of-age who met minimum property qualifications were granted the right to vote; their younger, and less affluent brethren had to wait another ten years to achieve the same entitlement. And though it's unlikely any of the women old enough to cast a vote in those initial election years are still alive, their victory is relatively recent when measured against centuries of recorded human history; and antique privilege when held up against the existing fight for gay marriage and against racism and religious persecution.So, when writing fiction, whether historical or contemporary, do your homework. And don't always play nice.
Good fiction, especially historical fiction, contains elements of bad behavior and politically incorrect policy; don't be afraid to write it like it was. When reading historical fiction, please, resist the urge to judge character behavior, thought, and language against today's standards. What we value now was not necessarily valued then, just as our accomplishments and failures of today will no doubt be some future writer or reader's head-shaking research of bygone days. And if you want to read excellent fiction where historical fact is seamlessly weaved into great story, check out Diana Gabaldon. She's truly one of the masters of historical fiction.
Deborah
Our ignorance of history makes us libel to our own times. People have always been like this. ~ Gustave Flaubert (1860-1880)
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
T is for Trends and Target Market
A to Z Challenge letter T...
Vampires. Cowboys. Shape shifters. Shape-shifting cowboys and vampires. Sweet. Sexy. Erotic. Down-home and jet-setting; traditional, e-pub, and Indie. The latest trend in Romance novels is…everything, and anything.
Vampires. Cowboys. Shape shifters. Shape-shifting cowboys and vampires. Sweet. Sexy. Erotic. Down-home and jet-setting; traditional, e-pub, and Indie. The latest trend in Romance novels is…everything, and anything.
Traditional publishing rules—whereby editors and Houses
decide what readers want and then publish accordingly—no longer apply, not in a
tech-savvy world where readers can choose from an endless array of content,
and, bonus, via online-downloads, pay 1/10th what they might for
hard copy from a bricks and mortar retailer. And choose they are.
50 Shades of Grey is one example. Author Amanda Hocking,
another. E-books have turned publishing trends on their proverbial ears.
Cheaper and quicker access—costs varying from free to $0.99
or $4.99 on an e-book that is immediately downloadable to a Kindle, iPad, or
Kobo—translates to readers with shorter attention spans, and conversely,
greater willingness to try something different, venture out and take a risk on
a new author. So what does this mean for writers?
It means there has never been a better time to saddle up and
ride west into the New Frontier. There's gold in them thar hills! Just remember...your
target market.
Just because trends are exploding like dynamite in a gold
mine, doesn't mean an author can toss all caution to the wind. One must prepare
appropriately, the way pioneers consulted maps no matter how crude, and followed
signposts, to their intended destination. For an author, the target market is
the book's destination, so to speak.
A cowpuncher with a thousand head of cattle to sell does not
drive the herd to a sheep auction, any more than an author of erotica attempts
to sell a novel to Bethany House. So, once an author has typed The End, and
completed all editorial updates on a manuscript, the next step is to determine
the Target Market—who buys this type of book—and either query
like-minded agents/editors, or, if going the self-pub route, package and
promote the book to catch the interest of intended readers.
My novel, Everything
That Matters is intended for the same market that snaps up Debbie Macomber and
Linda Lael-Miller novels; mainly female readers aged 18 to 98 who enjoy emotional,
family-orientated reads heavy on tradition, light on "heat" (intensity/detail
of sex scenes). It is not intended for Young Adult Fantasy readers, or fans of
Michael Slade.
If you're a writer, forget trends and know your target
market. Write the story that speaks to you, and then look in the mirror and at
the books similar to yours. Who are you, and where do your books belong? Now
find an agent/editor/or self-pub niche that will best get your book to the
people like you that read books like yours—your
target market.
If you're a reader, do you stick to the tried and true, or
venture into new territory (Fantasy vs. Romance vs. Horror vs. True Crime, etc.)?
Do you read traditional hard copy, or e-books, and do you choose your reads by trend,
time-period, author, or whatever looks interesting in the rack at the checkout?
Please share!
I look forward to comments.
Deborah
You cannot dream
yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge one for yourself. ~James
A. Froude
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