The Last Friday

Missed you last Friday. No, really. I'd much rather have been keeping up with my posting on MMW than working a double shift.

I know I've talked about this before, so I won't bore you with the details. The short version is I took a job at the local Dollar General to offset my husband's income. Then I got promoted. Then I got promoted again. Then my husband took a pay cut in the form of a job closer to home that pays less, so my income became more important. Now I'm feeling really stuck, in so many ways. The only light I see at the end of the tunnel is to write and publish enough books to create income that way so I can come back home.

Because I really don't feel like I spend a lot of time at home. Even my days off (the ones I don't get called in to work) are spent half expecting the phone to ring. I need a job that doesn't need *me* so much, but in a town of less than 10k people, the options are slim.

Now that my schedule is so insane, and I still have a home and family and those lingering dreams of writing, I've had to start seriously considering what to let go. I hate that, but it's like when you bring home a newborn and their demands take over your life. You have to decide if you're going to wash the dishes, do that load of laundry, or just snuggle the baby and see to their needs.

For me, my weekly post here at MMW has become that load of laundry I just can't get done. I hate it, but there you are. Fortunately these mommies are a strong group. They can easily carry on without me. :) I'll still be around to lurk, linger, and comment if the moment arises, but I will no longer hold that coveted Friday spot that I've loved so much.

So, thank you to MMW for giving me a place. Thank you to my readers for reading, enjoying, and commenting on my posts. Thank you for the wonderful environment we've created on this blog. And please remember me.

Cheri

No-No NaNo!

As much of a good girl as I am, I've probably been a tad more rebellious than I should have been. Sounds like a contradiction, huh?

A year or so ago, my husband related to a coworker the story of how my young women leaders (ages ago when I *was* a YW) tried to discourage us girls from wearing all black to church. They gave many reasons why they felt it was inappropriate, but my nicest clothes were black and I've always looked good in that color. My skirts weren't short. My tops not tight. I felt their quibble about the color was out of place. At least we were attending, right? I could have been in bed on a Sunday morning like my brothers, or sitting at the TV. Instead I was at church. So I blew them off, wore what I wanted, and secretly smiled at the pursed lips and disapproving looks.

The coworker (of my husband) was impressed that I lived my standards but still rebelled. I never saw it that way. I'm sort of a do-it-my-way person. I've found a system that works for me and I'm good with it.

Why am I telling you this? Well, it sort of leads into what I'm doing this month. You see, while everyone else seems to be on the NaNoWriMo wagon, that particular plan isn't going to work for me. Rather than not participating at all, I'm joining a few of my fellow "rebels" for Tristi Pinkston's No-No NaNo.

If you haven't met her, or don't know her books, Tristi is a genius. As well as being a talented author and editor, she does wonders to motivate her fellow writers--me being one of them. I have three books I need to finish before February (at least rough drafts) but I've started on each of them at least a little, so I can't technically fit into the traditional NaNo standard. Tristi's No-No NaNo is perfect for me this year.

So, if you've been on the fence about this month, or feeling a tad bit of envy for those writers with the chance to start a brand new project Nov 1--come join us! It's going to be fun!

My Review: A Timeless Romance Anthology: Winter Collection

About the book: Six Award-Winning Authors have contributed brand new stories to A Timeless Romance Anthology: Winter Collection. A collection unlike any other, readers will love this compilation of six sweet historical romance novellas, set in varying eras, yet all with one thing in common: Romance.

The Road to Cavan Town by Sarah M. Eden, set in 1864 Ireland, combines Eden’s sense of humor with her signature sweet romance. Alice Wheatley walks each weekend into town, accompanied by Isaac Dancy. And while Alice finds herself falling in love with the gentleman, unfortunately he has his eyes set on the belle of the town, Miss Sophia Kilchrest. Alice must find a way to turn Isaac’s eyes toward her.

Regency author Heidi Ashworth’s delightful story, It Happened Twelfth Night, set in England 1812, follows Luisa Darlington who discovers the man of her dreams, Percy Brooksby, isn’t in love with her as much as she thought he was. When Percy’s friend, the mysterious foreigner, Mr. Flynn, visits for the twelfth night holiday, he promptly sweeps Luisa off her feet, quite literally. Luisa is left catching her breath in more ways than one.

An Unexpected Proposal by Annette Lyon is a captivating romantic novella, set in remote Wood Camp, the snowy canyon of Logan, Utah, 1880. When Caroline Simpson is forced to thwart the aggressive advances of Mr. Butch Larson, she discovers that her long-time friend, James, has genuine affection for her. But as stubborn as Caroline is, she minimizes the feelings he’s awakened in her, and it takes almost losing James to admit her true feelings for him.

In Joyce DiPastena’s charming medieval story, Caroles on the Green, we enter England of 1151, in which Lady Isabel has a dilemma. She promises herself that she’ll marry the man who sent a ring hidden in her pastry since the man she truly loves, Sir Lucian de Warrene, has proved to be impossible and exasperating. To forget him, Isabel sets her eyes on other eligible men, only to face another confrontation with Lucian—who isn’t about to back off and leave her to her newest plot.

Donna Hatch’s enchanting novella, A Winter’s Knight, begins when Clarissa Fairchild’s coach just happens to break down in front of the most forbidding estate in the county, that of Wyckburg Castle, a place where young brides have been murdered for generations by their husbands. Clarissa is horrified yet curious all in the same breath. When she meets widower Christopher de Champs, Earl of Wyckburg, she must decide if she should flee or uncover the greatest secret in the county about her handsome rescuer.

In Heather B. Moore’s exciting turn-of-the-century story, A Fortunate Exile, Lila Townsend finds herself the victim of a broken heart—broken by the most notorious bachelor in 1901 New York City. If that isn’t bad enough, her father sends her to Aunt Eugenia’s remote farm where Lila must wait for her father’s anger to subside and the gossip columns to find new fodder. When Lila meets her aunt’s boarder, Peter Weathers, she discovers a man who isn’t afraid to stand up to her formidable family and take a chance on a woman with a sullied reputation.

My thoughts? Simply perfect. If you're looking for some clean romance that just might get your heart racing, look no further. Each story was masterfully crafted--each author should be commended. This one is definitely worth your time. I only wish it was longer!

Story Distraction

Here is today's "red herring" post, because I've got something going on right now in my family that has me completely in knots, so rather than discussing that we are going to get a teaser of my newest story idea.

If you've been here longer than a week, you will recall I get a new story idea about every other day. :)

            A king must have sons. Verity heard her father’s words in her head—words he used to justify unspeakable acts. She let the words play with her thoughts while she watched him from across the table, his handsome face illuminated by candles that somehow erased the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth.

            Verity let her gaze slide from her father to the man speaking to him. Lord Bakkus was a greasy, fat man with eyes that missed little but hid much. Verity wondered if her father knew—if he even noticed—the cunning of Bakkus’s smile. Or did her father’s attention stray far from Lord Bakkus’s lovely young daughter?

            Bakkus waved away the servant with the tray of wine. “As I was saying, your majesty, I believe you and I can do a great deal for one another.” He leaned back in his chair and belched. “In fact, I know I have something you want.”

            Verity’s father’s eyebrows knit together. “And what is that?”

            Bakkus didn’t even look at his daughter, but barked, “Come here.”

            She obeyed, of course, and moved to stand just at his right. Verity wondered if he’d planned even that—how the candlelight played with her golden hair and soft white gown. She knew what he would offer her father, but what did Bakkus have to gain from it?

            “Melody, my youngest,” Bakkus said. “She comes from a long line of good breeders. Her mother gave me four strapping sons to build my territory, and two lovely daughters to add to my wealth. Melody’s older sister has given her husband six strong sons. Which is more than any of your women have done for you.”

            Bakkus leaned forward, a little too eagerly in Verity’s opinion, to watch her father’s face. Verity could see the deep frown in his profile as her father looked at the minor lord. He’d struck a nerve, certainly. Verity wondered how many people knew of her father’s struggle to have a son.

            “What would you want in return?” the king asked.

            Verity saw the gleam of satisfaction hit the lord’s eyes for the briefest of instants. Did her father see it? Probably not. His gaze had wandered back to Melody’s heart-shaped face. And other qualities.

            Bakkus was looking at her now. Why? Verity wondered. That gleam was back in his eye. She almost shook her head. He couldn’t want what she thought.

            “I propose an exchange,” Bakkus said to the king. “A daughter for a daughter.”

So, what do you think? Should I continue to explore Verity's dark world?

Moments

My computer moves at a snail's pace. By the time the "New Post" page appears so I can start typing, I've forgotten what I was going to say.

Where was I?

I'm probably not alone in this, but I've found that the less writing I get done the more um, shall we say creative, my dreams get.

Like the hypnosis-zombie apocalypse dream.

Or the I'm-in-a-friend's-wedding-and-hate-my-dress dream.

I've been working a lot. Last week I clocked over 50 hours. This week wasn't as bad, but I still squeezed a double shift in on Tuesday. That's not my favorite thing by a long shot, but you do what you have to do, right?

My writing is suffering and it frustrates me. I had planned to write a book in September. Now I'm looking at the dwindling days left in the month and drastically reshaping my schedule. Right now I hate having an outside job. I hate anything that drags me away from my writing. And, most of all, I hate being so tired all the time that even when I am home I have no energy or my back hurts too much to sit in the chair.

And even those start to feel like excuses after a while. Even when the pain is so bad I can't even stand up straight.

Can I express how much I'm looking forward to General Conference? Probably not. I've missed a few Sundays of church because of work, and I really don't want to miss that weekend. I need the recharge. I need that overwhelming infusion of the spirit.

My husband just took a job that will mean a significant pay cut, even though it's closer to home and he'll be spending much less in gas commuting to and from work. So it really doesn't look like I'm going to be able to quit my job any time soon.

I keep telling myself that if writing is so important to me, I will FIND the time to get my projects done. I will MAKE the time.

Right now I'm just struggling to make time to get dressed and go to the grocery store before work. :/

My Daughter's Teacher Gave Me Homework

Only a writer/mom can walk into her 3rd grader's parent-teacher conference and come out with homework. 

 I admit that, for me, going to my youngest child's parent-teacher conferences is a bit of a guilty pleasure. Somehow, I gave birth to an angel and she lives among us. I hear things like "she's so sweet" or "I just love her" or "she gets along with everyone" and the like. A couple years ago she was the hit of her class because she befriended an Autistic boy and helped him with his work. But this was nothing to her. She made a friend--that was it. And she could help him, which is something she loves to do more than breathe. She loves to help.

 But I digress. We had particular fun this last conference because the teacher spent 5 min correcting a 91% in Spelling that should have been 100%. (really, 100.5%, but who's counting?) It just made me laugh that she knew my little girl so well that she looked at the 91 and thought "this is not right" and set about researching and fixing it. 

 Anyway, as he is wont to do, my husband informed the teacher that I'm a writer--and I have 3 published books. And, as my manager, he is going to spend the next few months getting me into schools for author visits and maybe line up some other speaking engagements.

 So Mrs. Smith got really excited, and suggested I come to the class and teach a series of mini classes on the different aspects of writing--outlining, plotting, story structure, hook, etc. As we gradually made our way to the door she kept talking about how great it would be to have a published author helping out her class. 

 Then she turned to me and said, "Why don't you write them a story? Just a short thing, about friendship (the classroom theme) and when you come you can read it to them."

Sure, I said. (why? no idea) So...I have homework. And she promised she wouldn't forget, so I have to have my assignment completed when she comes calling.

 And I just realized the perfect story for them. Would it be wrong to send it out to an editor first? I might get a better grade. :)

This is what Happens

When you have too many irons in the fire, so to speak.

I sat comfortably this morning, confident I had a post scheduled for today--only to finally check in and realize that I don't.

So...

Thursday was a day I set aside just to write. I planned it, announced it, and got all ready to go. My mind was swirling with ideas. I have a short story to edit, and wanted to get it done or mostly done Thursday.

That was the plan. The reality? Not so much.

At 3am my husband woke up to find we had no power AT ALL in the house. He checked the breakers and everything was fine, just no electricity. At 5:30 we both got up, partly because we were overly warm and uncomfortable in bed and partly because it was time to get my oldest up for seminary. Which he does online since we live 30 miles from the church. Ya, that wasn't about to happen. We got all the kids up for school and got ready by flashlight/candlelight. Hubby called the power company. A truck showed up around 7. Hubby went to work, the kids caught the bus to school, and the puppy and I waited. I finally returned to bed with a headache and listened to the power company truck in the alley.

Suddenly, the ceiling fan came on. The bathroom light. Yes! Power is restored. I waited a few more minutes to see if the guy would come to the door and tell us what had happened. Nothing. Not a peep from the dog, who barks incessantly if someone comes to our door. My headache and I drift off to sleep.

The next thing I know it's 11am. We have power, but I feel rotten. Bad sleep will do that to you. So I take some time to wake up and get going. Announce to FB that I'm signing off for the day to get some writing done. Sure, the kids will be home from school soon (it's now about 1pm) but I can still work. I can shut myself in the office while they do chores and stuff and get some done. I can even write later while they are in bed. My schedule is not completely derailed.

Then I get a call. Can I come in at 2pm for a meeting to discuss my benefits? Yes, because I need to. But I'd rather not. Sigh. I get ready to leave.

I'm sitting in the waiting room and my boss calls my cell phone. Can I come in to work at 3pm? Forget that I have a meeting. Forget that I have dough rising at home for cinnamon rolls (which, by the way, did not survive). Forget that I have edits to do. I have to spend the evening at work.

Rush through my meeting. Hurry home. Throw my work clothes in the dryer and put together dinner for the kids for later. Leave them a note begging apology and also begging them to get along.

In all of that, I did write a couple of heart wrenching scenes for The Lost Princess. So I guess the day wasn't an epic fail. Sometimes I feel like that's what I get for making writing plans. It's almost like going to the temple. I've got to keep it a secret, sneak up on it, if I want to actually accomplish anything.

Mama said there'd be days like this.

And Now Back To My Regularly Scheduled Life

It's September 5th (when I'm writing this). The kids are back in school. Work has settled down finally and I have a couple of days off this week. Today, I was up by 9:30am and had only a few things to do because my plan was to WRITE.

So why am I sitting here at 2:21 pm preparing this blog post?

I can't write. And I don't know why.

As you may remember, I spent essentially the whole spring and summer editing and preparing The Tyrant King for publication--which I finally accomplished--with a lot of help from some very knowledgeable writers, readers, editors, and friends. I also started a job this summer and am now the acting asst manager at the local Dollar General store. (yes, that was a fast ride--I'll tell you about it sometime)

Lately all my other "hobbies" have gone by the wayside. Video games. Movies/TV shows. I actually did watch/play a little after work yesterday but only because I had a sinus headache that would fell an elephant and just wanted to veg.

Today I feel pretty good. But I can't get my brain in the right place to pick up my writing again. And now, the kids will be home in less than an hour. And I'm starting to feel slightly panicky.

Where did my muse go? It doesn't feel like she's gone far. I'm totally smitten with some of the ideas I've had over the past few months for new stories and ways of improving old stories. But right now there's an open .doc sitting on my computer and I'm here. Why?

How do you do it? We all have busy lives, and I'm a firm believer in the idea that you *make* time for what's important to you. So how do you make time to write. And, once it's there, how do you get back into the writing groove?

Great News!

First of all, The Tyrant King is available in paperback! Check out the shiny new Amazon PAGE!

Ok, now that that's out of the way. :D

I'm overflowing with new writing ideas lately, and I'm really happy to have time Saturday night to actually write. So I want to know what everyone is working on. Feel free to chime in and leave in a comment what your current project is.

Ready? Go!

Last Night

I dreamed about a little girl with a heart wrenching memory of the day her mama left. This girl lived on a farm with her dad, but dad never explained what happened. He just told her to not ask questions. So she didn't. But she didn't let it go, either.

At age 6, she decides she's going to find her mama. There are letters in her mother's handwriting and a return address on the envelope. So she is going to that return address. (setting--it's like the 1920's midwest) And she goes alone. She hasn't learned to read yet, can't write, and therefore can't get herself there. Along the way she meets interesting and helpful people, and finally reaches her destination.

When she's reunited with her mama, this little girl learns that her mama was called away for some important reason. She didn't want to go, she had to go. And she'd written those letters to her daughter to explain how much she loved and missed her, and that when her duty was done she would return home.

Dad, the uncommunicative type, was waiting until the girl went to school and learned to read to share these letters with her.

When I woke up this morning, this concept was heavily on my mind. The first thing I noticed was the obvious plot hole--what would take a mother away from her family in a way that she couldn't soon return? Obviously, I can make this work in a fantasy setting. Perhaps the mother is a gifted healer and her services are needed by the king--making her pretty indispensable and making it impossible for her to go home. Or there's some intrigue and she has to go into hiding to protect her family. Obviously, though, if she's in hiding, there's no logical reason she'd put a return address on her correspondence.

But, returning to the more contemporary time--what would take a mother away from her family?

Can you think of a reason?

Unprovoked Blessings

This week I posted on my (admittedly) seldom-used Mommy BLOG about an amazing gift my Heavenly Father gave me. And because I usually post about the "writer" side of this blog, I'm going to spend a few minutes talking about the "Mormon" and "Mommy" parts. :) You'll probably want to read about my experience and then come back to this page and finish my post here.

Go ahead. I'll wait.

Ready? Ok.

I don't talk about my miscarriage much because it's not something I like to dwell on--just like I don't talk about being robbed at gunpoint when I was 20 or being inappropriately touched by a member of the family I was babysitting for when I was 18. These are negative things. They happened--I dealt with them and moved on. I credit my faith with that. But still, these experiences helped to mold and shape me into who I am today. And, sometimes, it's something you need to talk about.

We named her Lily. She'd actually died at about 8 to 10 weeks, but we didn't know until I started spotting and went to see the doctor. He did one of those invasive ultrasounds and saw that there was a body, but no heartbeat.

I will never forget the image on the monitor of my still, silent baby. It was July 17, 2002.

The doctor offered me the choice of going through the procedure to have the baby's body removed or to wait and let my body expel her on its own. Neither idea appealed much but I couldn't stand the idea of her tiny body dropping into the toilet on some unsuspecting day. So we opted for the procedure.

When we went to the hospital later that night, the nurse gave me something that would "fog my mind" so that I wouldn't remember the procedure. It didn't work.

I remember everything. I remember the sound of the machine as it sucked her from me. I remember looking into my husband's face because he was trying to keep my mind engaged so I wouldn't focus on what was happening. I also don't believe my daughter's body becoming medical waste is much better than it becoming sewage. But first trimester miscarriages are common--almost normal--so I didn't think to ask if there were any other options.

The doctor assured me I was healthy, that these things "just happen," and that I'd likely go on to have healthy pregnancies after this. I was even right on target with statistics, since one in every 4 (or 5, I don't remember which he said) pregnancies end in miscarriage, and that was my fourth pregnancy. My daughter Rianne was born a couple years later.

So while I get to confuse every doctor when they ask my medical history (I have had 5 pregnancies, I have 5 children, but I had one miscarriage--because my second pregnancy was twins), beyond that it almost never comes up.

Until this week. Until my vision. Until I met her.

I had lingering questions. I wondered about her. I wondered if we could really, truly count someone who's heartbeat I've never heard or felt as part of our family. I know now. God has granted me this incredible, unexpected gift, and I am so very grateful I fail to find the words to adequately express it.

Best of all, I know Lily is safe. I know she is favored and protected and I don't have to worry about her. I worry constantly about my children here on earth, and it's kind of a relief to know I don't have to harbor those same concerns about my heavenly daughter.

And I can still remember how it felt to hold her in my arms (in my vision). It was such a real, tangible experience I can't simply call it a dream.

Please, a Little Help?

In the exciting craziness that is the last few days of actually launching a novel, I have a question and I NEED your help. This is the back cover for The Tyrant King:

What does this mean to you? Does it interest you in the story? Are you worried about what the devastating loss may be?

Because I know the story, I can't tell whether what I think may be a potential flaw is actually a flaw. Or whether it's misleading. And whether I want to purposely mislead my readers (if it is misleading to them) so that when they read the book they will be relieved.

Or if I'm maybe worrying too much about it. :P

Input, please. I'm grateful for your expressed opinions.

It Takes Time

Fifteen years ago yesterday, I labored my firstborn son into this world. As I watched him blow out his candles yesterday and open his gifts, I realized the incredible young man he's becoming was not an overnight event--but a process.

There was a time when I worried about this boy. He was 9, 10, 11 years old, and had issues with keeping secrets, sneaking food, and hiding things. And that was at home. At school it was even worse. This was the boy who wanted to quit school in the middle of 3rd grade. We talked with him, counseled with him, spoke to his teachers, his bishop, we prayed for him. We did everything we knew how to do.

Then he turned 12 and things began to change. It was a change that came from within him, something we nurtured and encouraged any way we can. Now he is shining from the inside out, showing the world the wonderful person I always knew him to be.

He is one of my most important WIP's.

Because everything in my life leads back to writing, I couldn't help connecting this to the process of creating a book. You start with that initial draft, that first creation--and let's face it we may secretly know there are flaws but, for the most part, we're in love. It's beautiful; perfect--our babe in arms. Then you start revising (raising) your little babe and find flaws.

A stubborn streak.

An issue with school, either academically, socially, or both.

These aren't fatal flaws, but sometimes working through them can be so frustrating we may consider throwing in the towel. But we can't, of course. We must push through--we must work with the issue and (hopefully) make it work for us rather than against us. Many times we are inspired or buoyed up by an outside influence. Many times we can't make it through without them.

Whatever you are doing with your life--raising a child, writing a book, or both--remember that it is a process. There will be ups and downs. There will be times when even a tiny part of you wishes you could give up. But right now I'm seeing glimpses of the future, and I'm pretty sure it's all worth it.

I'm not done with my son--or any of his siblings. :) I'm still in the trenches of high school, pre-dating questions, middle school, training bras, shaving and please, dear heaven, use your deodorant! But motherhood, just like writing, is my higher calling.

And I'm sticking with it.

It's me, Kinda

I was really debating posting here at all today, since my internet connections last about 20 min and I worked this morning and have literally been at the computer fighting internet and password issues for 2 hrs.

But, as it turns out, I do have something to share. :)

As the release for The Tyrant King gets closer, I've been furiously working on the back cover copy for the print book. You know, that's where you usually find what the book is about, maybe a snippet from the book itself to draw you in, perhaps a little about the author.

Happily--and largely because Facebook could not distract me lol--I have revised my back cover copy to a point where I am happy with it. I don't know why things like book summaries, descriptions, back cover text, or query letters are the hardest things to write, but they are. So this is a huge leap for me to actually be *happy* with my text. I really hope you are, too. :)

Her heart paused, but Krystal remained defiant. “You lie. You would never do such a thing to my child.”

            “You think not?” He laughed again and she drew back. “I’ve sworn an oath to annihilate my dear cousin’s present and future, take over his kingdom and his crown, and fulfill my father’s dreams. And you think I would hesitate to murder his offspring? Come now, Krystal. I know you are smarter than that.”

Krystal’s peaceful life as queen of Fayterra is shattered when a stranger arrives with a connection to Jareth that threatens to change everything. Soon her loved ones are threatened, her people are under attack, and Krystal must face a devastating loss.

As the future becomes bleaker and the mystery continues to unravel, Krystal’s enemies will learn just how far she will go to defend the people she loves.

And if you haven't had a chance to check out the FIRST CHAPTER, don't miss out!

The FUN Part!

We spend a lot of time as writers talking about the hard stuff--learning your craft, honing your craft, editing, writing drafts, querying, writing query letters, wait, I had a point here.

Oh, yes! The FUN parts of writing.

It's different with every writer, really, but here are the two parts of writing that I love.

One, the first draft. Where you're meeting your characters for the first time, throwing them into tough situations and finding out what they're made of. Great fun, great stuff. I can do it in a month if I push myself. And I have.

My other favorite part of writing is still relatively new--seeing my work in print. It's like magic. It gives you a feeling you've never had before, even if you've published before. Every book is new and each experience is sweet.

I'm sitting, at this moment, on the cusp of that second experience. The Tyrant King is being formatted for printing/e-books. Literally tingling in anticipation of the magic. For those of you who don't know (or don't remember lol), this has been a while in coming.

I submitted my manuscript to the publisher of my first book last year. They sent it back requesting changes. No big, they did that with my first one. The changes took me longer than I'd planned, but I eventually sent it back to them. And waited. Though I harbored some doubt, I was reasonably confident they would publish me a second time.

Boy, was I wrong.

On the anniversary of the day The Peasant Queen was ACCEPTED, The Tyrant King was REJECTED. By then, I'd listened to my doubts enough that I'd determined to self publish it. To that end, I hired an editor and got the wheels turning for the cover art and lined up my friend to help with formatting and typesetting.

Still, the rejection hurt. It was hard to take, even though I had an alternative plan and was already moving forward with it. After several months, I can say now that I'm glad they rejected TTK because it's SOOO much better after being taken apart by a seasoned editor.

In just a few weeks, I'm going to be doing the new book dance with my hubby and kids. It's those moments that help make all the hard work worth it.

It's Friday Again

So, lots has changed here in Oklahoma since I last checked in. I started a new job--part time cashier--that is great and necessary (and honestly it's a miracle I even got hired) but it DOES significantly cut into my writing/editing time. While I try (still) to sort out my new schedule and fit writing in there somewhere between family, work, and the intense physical pain related to being on my feet all day, I thought I would share some fun things with you all.

First, my wonderful and talented editor got the final edits back to me for The Tyrant King. I'm almost halfway through the manuscript, and I have three whole days off next week to finish my corrections and send the book to my incredible friend Karen for typesetting.

Then, GASP--we will have a book!

Second, because I missed my planned June 20th publication date I posted the FIRST CHAPTER FREE on my website. Check it out and enjoy!

If you're new here, The Tyrant King is the sequel to my traditionally published first novel, The Peasant Queen. You can check TPQ out HERE or--if you haven't yet--read the alternate ending HERE.

That's all the goodies I have for you this week. Maybe next week I'll have details on my actual release date for TTK--and I will definitely share the information about my blog tour this September.

I Slept In But I'm Calling it Research!

This week has been one of huge adjustments to my personal schedule. Monday I started a part-time job, and getting home late and exhausted every night has messed up my mornings. My great plan to be up at 7:30 so I can have a morning with my kids and start work (writing) at 10am got flushed.

But I haven't given up. Neither, apparently, has my brain. (I'm really hoping once I adjust to the schedule I'll get up and write again.)

Early this morning I started dreaming about a fantastic new main character. I'm going to blame my sis-in-law and our feverish plotting of our joint blog tour this coming September--her first book and my second-ish--because MEL writes about pirates. Yep, you guessed it--I had a pirate dream.

My main character was amazing. Feminine but tough, sassy but stylish. She had a best friend who disapproved in an I-love-you-and-don't-want-to-see-you-killed sort of way, and also the best friend hated seeing the main character dress like a man as she did before battle. And the MC had a love--a man who supported her and felt she ruled his world. I think he was a pirate too, or at least a privateer.

The world they roamed was one of fantasy--like Earth of old but with some definite extras. So describing it was a mixture of the familiar and unusual. And she had a ship and a loyal crew. But one flaw my MC has is she relies heavily on being underestimated--and you know that's the sort of thing that will come back and bite her in the end. Eventually someone WON'T underestimate her, and then she'll really be in trouble.

I woke up a few times during the dreams but was always able to refresh her in my mind. So I lay there for extra long trying to iron out the details I wanted to keep--and pull some essentials from my subconscious. Like her name. Which, unfortunately, has been lost in the recesses of my mind.

So, yes. I slept in this morning. But I'm calling it research. :)

Right Brain, Left Brain

I feel like this post is a bit Dr Seuss--One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.

Once I had a bestselling author explain to me that he can't write and promote books at the same time. For him, writing required the creative side of his brain where promoting (marketing) required the more analytical, businesslike side. I'm not a bestselling author by any stretch of the imagination, but I totally understand what he means.

For me, it's writing and editing.

Drafting that first pass of any manuscript requires you to let loose your creative side, to plot, dream, challenge, and grow that part of your brain.

Editing, however, requires a more detached, analytical view of your work. You can't afford to LOVE it while you're trying to FIX it. Some things have to change; others need to be ditched completely.

This month I have divided my time up between writing and editing. Between working on edits for one book as I get them back from my editor, I'm working on the first draft of another book. And it's HARD. I find myself trying to draft while having a serious plot block (like a writer's block, but with the plot--not knowing what comes next), or going back through what I've already written to answer a question--like what is the character wearing--and wanting to edit it as I go. It takes an extreme sense of control to not give in to the impulse. Yes, I'm still working on it.

Yesterday I had an awesome breakthrough about my plot problem and I'm so excited to charge right through the current block.

Who's willing to bet that tomorrow I get another round of edits back for the other book? :)

The More I Learn

The better I will be (hopefully). :)

My primary focus lately has been on editing. The learning curve got so steep I almost fell off. Seriously. I put what I thought I knew into The Tyrant King, had test readers and self edited it until I didn't think I could do any more to it. Then an actual editor got their hands on it, and it's a whole new ballgame.

First off, I don't know nearly as much as I thought I did. That one wasn't must of a surprise. It's kind of like all the rules I was following were for mainstream fiction and not so much for fantasy. You actually write fantasy a little different.

I also have a huge problem with repetitive words. Not the same word every time, but sections of the story where I use a word over and over. Not too easy to do a whole MS search for those when they vary with each section. (no lie, I also had a lot of repetitive words throughout the MS that I could search and replace) And the word "said." I was told it was pretty much an invisible word, but, apparently, you can use invisible words too many times.

I'm not saying any of this to freak you out. And you can't really use my editing experiences to take apart your MS. All writers are unique. I'm only using these examples to illustrate what I don't know.

Most of you are aware I have a traditionally published novel. The problem there is that I learned almost nothing through their editing process. (which is actually something else I suspected) I also think that contributed to the fact that they didn't accept the sequel. Looking at my MS from an outside POV I'd have to say I probably would have thought it had too many problems to publish.

Editing is golden. Even though the learning curve is steep, I'm really getting a lot out of it. Not that any of this is easy. It's hard to feel like you've got the best thing you can do only to have someone pick it apart and tell you everything that's wrong with it. What I am learning, though, is that what I thought was my best wasn't. Yet.

Now if only I could work out my comma handicap...

Punching the Clock

As most of you know, for months now I've struggled with some personal frustrations with my writing progress. Some I've shared here, while others I've posted on my author BLOG. I want to emphasize most of this has been self-inflicted. I've been feeling stagnant, unworthy, and untalented.

I am starting to wise up.

Part of that is due to the encouragement of some really amazing people in my life, but--as I'm sure you know--the only ones who can fix me are me and God. So I've been working on that aspect of my life, too. God's wonderful that way. Patient. Forgiving. Full of encouragement for the future.

Wednesday night we had a family meeting. I explained to the kids my new writing schedule and, more importantly, WHY I had a new writing schedule. And now I'm going to explain it to you.

I have spent a great deal of time calling my writing a career while treating it as a hobby. While I know writing is not a get-rich-quick scheme, I have been too obsessive and consequently frustrated by the lack of revenue. I'm not talking about hundreds of dollars. I'm talking about any dollars. At. All.

As usual, a change in direction required a change of thinking. On my part. I've worked enough jobs to know if you want to get anything out of it, you have to put something INTO it. If I want to make money--even just enough to supplement our family income a tiny bit or be able to afford to continue writing--I have to WORK for it.

I have this quote on my FB wall: Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. ~Thomas Edison

Well, I for one am tired of missing opportunities because I'm too dense to recognize them for what they are.

I also know I'm not the only one who's had an epiphany this week. Share yours. You may end up helping someone else. :)