Archive for July 2013 | Monthly archive page
When I decided I wanted to join the ranks of indie publishing last spring, my initial plan was to release my first book, OPERATION SNAG
MIKE BRAD, around my birthday in October. I thought having a book out by my 42nd birthday sounded like an excellent idea.
Plans changed, and I decided to test the publishing waters with a holiday novella, out in November, instead.
Then I sold DIVA IN THE DUGOUT to Turquoise Morning Press. Today, I got word that they’ve set DIVA for release the week of Oct. 15 — just a week after my birthday (Oct. 7).
Turns out I’ll have a birthday book after all.
The universe really does have a sense of humor, doesn’t it?
On another note, it’s all happening so quickly! With final edits due Sept. 1, I’m going to be hard at work in August.
Welcome back to another My Sexy Saturday. I’ve really been having fun with this blog hop, and I hope you are, too.
The rules are simple:
Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!
Last Saturday, I shared a deleted scene from “Diva in the Dugout,” the book I just sold to Turquoise Morning Press. I signed the contract last Thursday. It’s my first sale. I was — and still am — very excited.
But this week, I’m going back to my holiday novella, “Home for the Holidays.” Here, Cher and Derrick just arrived at an Italian restaurant for dinner. This is the evening of the day they met up again at the accident scene.
I normally go the seven paragraph route, but this week I picked just seven sentences. I think they’re good ones. I hope you agree.
When they were seated at DeLuca’s, Cher dove into the basket of garlic bread with the enthusiasm Derrick usually saved for more carnal pursuits. Come to think of it, her moan of pleasure as she licked the butter from her fingers reminded him of a woman enjoying herself in bed. When her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned again, Derrick squirmed in his chair.
He tried cooling himself off with a sip of water. “You really love that bread, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” She savored another bite before leaning across the table to whisper, “Sometimes, I dream about it.”
“Home for the Holidays,” coming to e-bookstores near you in November 2013.
You’ve probably heard the saying “Drummers do it with rhythm” — or some variation thereof. A quick search of Google revealed “Geologists do it in the dirt,” “Writers do it until their hands cramp” T-shirts and other products emblazoned with “Ham radio operators do it with frequency” and “editors do it with style.”
I’d like to add one to the list: Romance writers do it in fabulous shoes.
I didn’t go to RWA Nationals last week, but I saw plenty of pictures — and great shoes figured in many of them. Bestselling author Cherry Adair and Fellow Starcatcher (the 2011 Golden Heart class) Kimberly Kincaid are known for fabulous footwear. And just ask any of the Rubies about their shoe collections.
Naturally, when I prepped to have my official author photo taken this week, I had to dig out my own pair.
Gorgeous, right? The Boyfriend sure likes them … even if they make me taller than him.
Problem is, I can’t walk in the darn things.
I’m tall — 5 feet, 10 inches — so in heels I top 6 feet. And I’ve never liked being taller than all the girls and most guys in a room.
Consequently, I’ve never bothered to learn how to walk in high heels. I live in sneakers and flats.
It’s not that I don’t love pretty shoes, because I do. I have countless pairs of sandals and boots in my closet, in pretty much every color of the rainbow.
And I can drool over Manolos with the best shoe horses in the stable … although I doubt I’d ever drop that much cash on anything that didn’t come with an electrical cord. Gadgets are allowed to cost most of a paycheck, not shoes.
On the rare occasions I do wear heels, my ankles wobble like a kid playing dress-up with Grandma’s clothes. Worse, I live in constant fear of falling flat on my face, breaking an ankle and/or exposing my underwear to the world.
Thank goodness none of those misfortunes befell me Tuesday. Maybe that’s because I actually wore flip-flops to our photo spot, then changed into the pumps when it came time to take the pictures. When we traipsed across the parking lot to a different location, on went the flip-flops again.
Now that I’m on the verge of — cough — romance superstardom, I probably ought to start practicing walking in sky-high heels. (Save the cards and letters. I know selling one manuscript does not a superstar make … but a girl can dream.)
Or maybe I can start a new trend. I hear Bedazzled flip-flops are all the rage … somewhere. Out there. At least in the unexplored corners of my mind.
Who’s with me?
Vive la comfy footwear revolution!
Four days after signing a contract for DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, I’m still riding the high that comes with a first sale. But in the quieter moments (read: when I’m not jumping like a maniac and talking 3,000 miles a minute), I find myself wondering: What just happened here?
Yes, I’ve been working hard — writing new stuff, revising stories that still need help and, perhaps most importantly, opening myself up for rejection by putting my babies out there.
I’d also decided — not so long ago — to take the plunge into indie publishing. I signed up for a self-publishing class online. I hired a web designer and started working with a cover artist. I lined up an editor for HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS and sent OPERATION SNAG
MIKE BRAD out to several readers.
Of course, I hadn’t completely given up on a more traditional path. After all, so many folks these days are doing both. Last Monday, I entered Bree and Mike’s story, OVEREXPOSED, in the Golden Pen. The goal was to get feedback to better prep the entry for GH2014. (I wasn’t satisfied with its 2013 scores, even though it landed in the top quarter. I wanted another GH final under my belt.)
But I no longer hung all my hopes on landing an agent/finaling in a contest/selling my book to a publisher. I opted to take my career into my own hands.
Funny how life works, isn’t it? My book deal found me only after I stopped looking for it.
The day after I entered the Golden Pen, I got the email from Turquoise Morning Press; on Thursday, I inked the deal. (I believe that makes me ineligible for the next Golden Heart competition. Correct me if I’m wrong, please. I hate to have wasted an entry fee.)
Did anyone get the license plate number of whatever sent me spinning in a completely different direction?
Is it simply that, as Depeche Mode says, “God has a sick sense of humor”? Or is something else at work?
They — whoever “they” are — say that love finds you when you least expect it. Does the same principle apply to book deals?
Or maybe there’s something to visualization, to the principle of “acting as if.” That’s what these cards I found at Target the other day seem to suggest.
I also have some personal experience with visualization.
After chatting with me about my goals, Jenn emailed me this paragraph for me to consider:
I see a woman who is confident. She is glowing with happiness, she is vibrant. I see a woman who is fit, she is active, she enjoys the outdoors with her dogs and she practices regular yoga. She is lighter, she may even be at her goal weight! I see a woman who enjoys food. Food has lost it’s power over her. She is excited about her future as a writer. She is independent and she believes in herself. I see a woman who is a writing finalist, carrying a new MacBook. I see a woman who is a traveler. She is surrounded by people who love and support her, and she is connected with her family.
As best I could, I took our vision to heart and acted as if I’d already achieved the success I sought.
And guess what?
The fit, active yoga devotee is still mere pipe dream. Most days, I’d rather veg on the couch … or in a chair at Starbucks. The part about food losing its power over me hasn’t materialized yet, either, though I wish it would.
But the part about writing that I highlighted in purple? Spot-on.
I did become a Golden Heart finalist a few months later (and found out I’d won the Beacon on the very same day). I’ve also gotten not one but TWO new laptops since then. (Okay, the first one was reconditioned … but the current one is all mine. Never-been-owned, fresh out of the box — and I love it, even if I’ll be paying for it for a long, long time.)
While I can’t say for sure how big a role our visualization played in my success, it does make me wonder. Perhaps I should start imagining myself as a fit, active yoga lover who doesn’t let food control her.
It’s worth a shot, right?