Thanks very much to Forrest Schultz, who reviewed Discovering Ren on his blog for The Lost Genre Guild! Glad you liked the novel, Forrest. | "...there is a level of sophistication even in the magical clashes in these battles that is rarely equalled in fantasy. And here and there in the story are found thought-provoking discussions of spiritual and theological matters." |
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Other than perhaps starving, or pounding one's head on the keyboard, I don't think there's an activity more iconic of the author's life than the book signing. Think of the movies that feature authors as characters - pretty much every one of them introduces the character as an author by showing him or her at a book signing. It's like showing Big Ben to say, "Hey, we're in London," or maybe the loaf french bread sticking out of the shopping bag to say, "Hey, I just bought groceries." Most authors look forward to the idea of a signing as much as finally convincing your family that your writing career isn't a total waste of time, maybe as much as cashing the first royalty check. It's a milestone, a rite of passage, something that's expected, something that makes you a grown-up, "real" writer. Or, so we tell ourselves. But, all you writers and authors out there, just how many book signings have you actually been to? C'mon, be honest. Maybe you stood in line for John Grisham, or E.L. James, or J.K. Rowling or Jim Butcher or Joss Whedon (I'd totally stand in line for them), but mid list authors? local authors? people you've never heard of? Unless the author in question is friend or family, you probably haven't shown up. I'm fortunate to live in a town with a vibrant cultural life, and I see listings in the newspaper pretty much every week of local author appearances, but I admit that the only one I've gone to was for a friend in my writing group. I'm going to be doing an "appearance" (that's what they call these events, apparently) at Broad Street Books, the official bookstore cafe from one of my alma maters, on May 9, 2013 at 5:30. Having picked a date and begun the appropriate publicity, I'm now facing yet another existential crisis (jeepers, how many of these can creative people endure?): What on earth do I do when the actual event takes place? Do I show up, Sharpie marker in hand, and grin like a stupid idiot (yes, apparently)? Do I try to read from the book? Do I just drink coffee and try to blend in and hope no one actually tries to talk to me? We're told that readers want to "interact" with authors these days. They want contact, they want to know that the author is a "real" person. Except I'm not entirely sure they really want authors to be "real" people. I think they might possibly want authors to be more than real people with silly foibles and mixups and what did I do with my phone and why is there a stain on my sweater? I think that people want contact, yes, but they want contact with the magic-making that is storytelling. Once upon a time, the bards and singers and storytellers of a culture were revered because they could weave magic into words and conjure reality out of memory or legend. They were thought to be a little odd, a little fey because they were in touch with the invisible, and formed a lifeline to the world of the past or that of the gods or ghosts or supernatural that their listeners craved to know. Is it so different today? Think about it - if you could meet your favorite author or movie maker or actor for drinks on your porch, would you know exactly what to say? Would you want to know that this person who connected you with something outside of reality accidentally put a dark sock in the white laundry yesterday? Or are you really looking for a conduit to that magic that reshaped your perception and left a mark on your soul? Why would you collect that signature on the title page if it weren't some kind of totem, ensuring that you will always have that connection, no matter what else changes? Pity us poor authors, who flounder and dread this moment when we come face-to-face with a reader. We don't know what to do or who to be in order to meet your expectations. I've gotten lost in a parking garage (on numerous occasions), so how on earth can I be your bridge to another world? I'm terrified that you'll come, and I'll be brutally disappointed if you stay home. I'll smile, and be shy all at once. After all, I put part of my soul out in the world for you. I hope you like the book. Peace. Recently I had the pleasure of getting away from it all. (Well, away from almost all - I brought along my other half to keep things interesting.) Last month I went to When Words Count Writer's Retreat with the goal of finishing the sequel. At that point, I had 110,000 words written and I figured I was within 5,000 of typing "The End" on the first draft. Oh, sure, I knew I had weeks (months) of editing ahead of me, but I just wanted to get the darn thing done. Finite. So I packed up my laptop, farmed out the kids, and dragged my so-supportive spouse up to Vermont for good food, skiing, conversation, and wine in front of the fire. And of course, the best laid plans mean something unexpected will happen. In this case, it was a conversation with the founders of the retreat about the storyline I had in mind for the ending. Short version? It just didn't work. Too complicated, too diffusive of tension, too many characters in the climatic scenes. I'm a writer that listens to criticism, even if it makes my skin crawl to hear it, because the only time it ever bothers me is if it's got some basis in reality. I mean, I asked for their opinion on how to strengthen the ending, so I could hardly be surprised when they offered suggestions. So, it was time to murder my children. Or, it was time to surgically remove the benign but rather unattractive growth that had appeared on my lovely sequel (it really is pretty good, by the way). Out came ten chapters and 30,000 words. It hurt, but I never hesitated. I already knew it was the right thing to do. I'd done it before. I could fill entire novellas just with my edits. The only thing bothering me now is that I've just added a good six months if I'm lucky to my timeline. I haven't even had the launch party for Discovering Ren, but already I'm looking ahead to having the sequel out by the end of this year. Publish or perish, that's how it goes. The end was in sight, but now it's somewhere around a bunch of bends. Am I sad? A little, I suppose, but mostly I'm back where I was before the retreat. I want to finish this thing. And I am relieved that when it is done, it will be a far better, more satisfying book than it would have been otherwise. Peace! I have a friend in my weekly writer's group who makes doughnuts whenever there's a school snow day. Nowadays her kids are in college and she rules over an empty nest, but she's kept up the tradition. And you may be aware that we in CT have had a lot of snow days in 2013. (I think my kids have been home from school 13 days already, and there's another storm predicted for next week! AUgh.) In the aftermath of the Blizzard of 2013, I was desperate for things to do indoors with the children. We had 34" of snow followed by a dreadful icy rain that turned everything into a giant solid glacier. You couldn't even go sledding in all the snow. It was dreadful. Increasingly frantic, I finally remembered my friend's tradition and for only the second time in my life made doughnuts. You can see the result here. And not just doughnuts, but chocolate glazed doughnuts. Yes, they were fat-laden sugar bombs. Yes, they had tons of completely non-nutritious calories. And yes, all twenty of them were gone inside of two days. But here's the thing: they were a heavenly treat. They were fun to make. They made my family happy when we were all ready to climb the walls and pick fights with each other. What's more, they were the size that doughnuts USED to be (2-1/2") before everything got super sized. It's true. If you look at a recipe from, say, pre-1980, you'll discover that ALL doughnuts were this size. Don't believe me? Just go to a cooking supply store and ask for a doughnut cutter. You'll see there is a "standard" cutter (the 2-1/2" size) and "jumbo," "large," "extra-large," or something similar. Of course, if you've been inside a Dunkin' Donuts in the last decade you'll be shocked to compare their monsters with my petite little confections. (Yes, there really is a conspiracy to get you to overeat.) My point? It's OK to indulge. The issue isn't whether to make the doughnuts, or eat the doughnuts; it's what kind and how many. Good, homemade doughnuts aren't evil. (High fructose corn syrup is evil, but that's another story.) The key to practicing moderation is, well, moderation. Pick the right time, the right size, the right number, and stick to things that indulgent but not self-destructive. We can apply the doughnut lesson to so many things in life. Substitute "watching TV," "staying up late," "forgetting the laundry," or any number of things we're not supposed to do all the time, and the fundamentals remain the same. As this winter hangs on, and on, I might make doughnuts again. More likely, I'll forget the laundry and the vacuuming to work on the sequel (more on that in my next post). Either way, there's no reason to feel guilty. Peace. Great news on the interview front for my speculative fiction fans out there: I'm happy to present Morgan Busse, whose novel Daughter of Light (Marcher Lord Press, 2012) has come in for some good reviews - well, make that GREAT reviews, since it currently has a five-star rating on Amazon! Like everyone I've had the privilege to interview, Morgan is a lovely person as well as a talented writer, and as she herself points out, writers are really people, too, you know. Morgan invites you to spend some time on her web site/blog, getting to know her a bit better. There's lots to explore, and of course she'd love you to buy her book. Read on for more! Morgan L. Busse writes speculative fiction for the adult market. She is the author of Daughter of Light, the first in a series from Marcher Lord Press. Morgan lives in the Midwest with her husband and four children. You can find about more about Morgan at www.morganlbusse.com I admit - little things make me crazy. I mean, seriously, blinkin' batshit crazy, if I let them, and too often I do. I went nuts the other day looking for the pink comb and hairbrush that I use every morning to coax the snarls that form in my children's hair overnight. I knew that if I DIDN'T FIND THAT COMB, there would be you-know-what to pay the following day as I was trying to get everyone ready for school and out the door. By the time my five-year-old found both implements I was practically foaming at the mouth, and has spent the previous twenty minutes pacing every room in the house except the one where the items were actually located, muttering and crying. It's not a moment I'm proud of. I find that I'm very susceptible to getting sucked into the momentary insanity, and start thinking and behaving completely irrationally. And later, I'll beat myself up over it, wishing it hadn't happened, wishing I hadn't yelled at some child or other resident of my home for doing something really dumb but minor (such as disassembling the pump of the bathroom soap dispenser such that it's now unusable), wishing I had more patience and control. And then I pray, "God give me patience," and you know what? He responds by offering yet more opportunities to practice. Such as finding someone has ripped off the plastic finger grip on the brand-new window shades... you get the idea. Of course, the worst, absolute worst I ever get is when I'm faced with stupid technology problems. Even normal, sane, calm people become full-fledged lunatics when it comes to computer issues. You know what I'm talking about. Don't try to deny it, or I'll say "printer driver installation" and watch your blood pressure tick up just thinking about it. I have a very good friend who is as rational and conscientious as they come. He served as a senator's chief of staff for years. Once when I told him how I had been trying to cook a grilled cheese sandwich in a skillet, and when I flipped it over it flew up into the air, turned sideways, and fell into the half-inch-wide gap between my stove and the counter, where of course it was dusty, ruined, and inaccessible. In complete seriousness, he responded, "Yeah, these so-called 'inanimate objects?' Total lie." Thus was born in my imagination the idea that there are little demons lurking about that do things like ruin your lunch, steal your comb, and mess with your computer. It's a useful conceit when you write supernatural fiction, but what about in daily life? Well, if you have ordered a print copy of Discovering Ren, you've already discovered that the page numbers and headers my editor and I so lovingly and carefully created and inserted and proof-read the digital copy, magically disappeared. Poof. Gone. And we're flummoxed as to why. Demons, I say. If you do happen to have one of these number-less copies, consider it a rare edition, because it's going to be fixed. And soon. ASAP, in fact. My husband says, it will encourage you to read it in one sitting! And in the meantime, I'm taking this as yet another sign that God is trying to teach me how to be patient, and to just ride out the little things. After all, the words are there and they are great. Numbers? Well, we're getting there. Peace, all. There are times when it's just awesome fun to be a writer. Recently, I had the opportunity to guest post on Lora Innes's blog about the love life of a dead twenty-one-year old Revolutionary War officer - if you live anywhere near Connecticut, you'll know I'm talking about Nathan Hale. This assignment grew out of my involvement with the Connecticut Sons of the American Revolution putting together a new exhibit in the Nathan Hale School House in New London, Connecticut. We knew about Lora's amazing web comic featuring our State Hero, so we asked her to do a "prequel on the wall." She did a fabulous job, and I encourage everyone to go see it. It just happened that I did a lot of research into Nathan's "social network" in New London, so when she was looking for someone to tackle the topic of his romances, I stepped up. Boy, it was a blast, and I can see from my web traffic that I've got a bunch of Dreamer fans visiting here. Welcome to all, and I hope you come back for more! If you're new to either Nathan Hale or the Dreamer, I hope that my guest posts will inspire you to become a fan. It's projects like these that make all the hard work (yes, writing is real work!) worthwhile. Peace! Well, this is fun! This week I'm posting my interview with Yvonne Anderson, whose sci fi Gateway to Gannah series is available from Risen Books. Her first novel, Story in the Stars, was a finalist for the ACFW's (American Christian Fiction Writers) Carol Awards. Pretty good stuff. The next book in the series, Words in the Wind, is out now, and the third and fourth are in production. So if you like what you're reading about, you'll have a lot more to look forward to! Yvonne, like me, is a "late entry" into the fiction-writing world, having pursued other vocations prior to starting her writing career. It just goes to show that writers may come from all over, but always from within. You can connect with Yvonne at her web site, or follow her blogs at Novel Rocket and Speculative Faith. Of course, she'd love you to purchase her novels, or ask for them at your local library. Read on to hear what she has to say about her work and herself! Yvonne Anderson, creator of the Gateway to Gannah space fantasy series, is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), The Lost Genre Guild, Independent Author Network, and International Thriller Writers, and serves as contest administrator for the Novel Rocket blog, named four times to Writer’s Digest’s list of the 101 Best Websites for Writers. She lives in rural Ohio but spends most of her time on the planet Gannah, researching her books. This week I'm participating in a writers-around-the-world blog hop, in which writers of all types answer questions about their work. I was tagged by fellow Cogwheel author Paul Freeman, whom I interviewed in December 2012, and whose epic fantasy novel Tribesman is really a must-read. You can visit his blog here to read his Next Big Thing post. If you'd like to participate in this blog hop, please contact me. Now, read on for more! My father loves to say that life is what happens when you're planning something else, and he's pretty much right. Best laid plans and all. I had really, really hoped to be done with the first draft of Sequel #1 (ack, my kingdom for a title!) by the end of 2012, but alas, no such luck. I was delayed for a month by illness in November, and then the holidays are never a great time to accomplish much of anything except eating and drinking. I was just starting to get my arse in gear when bang, my mother had hip replacement surgery and then a heart attack while in the hospital. Good news is that if you're going to have a heart attack, the best place to do it is while you're already in the hospital. She's home now, and recovering nicely. Still very scary, and very distracting. And then, of course, I've come down with some upper respiratory virus brought home by my children. Daddy is sick too. I've now lost track of time, as my carefully planned schedule shattered and fell to pieces. Thankfully, I do have my writing to fall back on. The "day" job work, as much as I enjoy the paycheck, isn't nearly as soul-satisfying. In an act of defiance of the universe, I spontaneously decided to enter a "first look"-type writing contest whose deadline was today. The contest fee supports a good cause (the local writers conference) and I figured I could use the critique. And, since the finalists will have one week to submit a polished MSS in March, I figured that if by chance I got that far, I could use a deadline to keep me on track! Also, I'm very happy to share with you an interview I recently gave to Mandy Barnett. She has a nice author interview series going on, and I encourage my gentle readers to visit her blog for more great stuff. Detours are just detours. If you keep the destination in mind, you'll be on the right path, even if it seems to lead you the wrong way. |
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