OK - today is the 9Th day of November. I have a simple question -
What the hell happened to the rest of this year?
Ever since my mother-in-law died the end of July, the days have been flying past. School started, my daughter had a birthday, my husband had a birthday, I had a birthday, my mother turned 90 - all events that sped past so fast none were given the attention they warranted. Especially my mother's 90Th birthday.
My whole family came to town. Once again, I felt left out of everything. It would be nice to not feel like the outsider inside of my own family. But I've grown comfortable on the outside looking in. Some of the observations of my family become fodder for my characters.
I am still trying to market book one, and I have a new story percolating. Problem? It isn't a fantasy story. It's more of an adventure/romance. I don't normally write pure romance. I can't come up with enough story to carry a romance only book. There has to be a hook for me to want to invest the mental energy to harvest.
Soon, the holidays will be here. Am I ready? No. This will be a hard time for my hubby and his family - the first Christmas without Sue. I don't know what to do to help my kids with the sadness they are going to have the next few weeks. All suggestions are welcome.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Yes, I know... it's been a long time!
Wow.
I knew it had been a long time since I blogged, but May? I really thought it had only been a few weeks. Time flies when I work too much. So, a quick recap...
June and July were work, work, work. We had a big July 4Th event which actually went rather well. So well, Steve and I decided to take two weeks vacation. After a lot of back and forth we decided to go out to the Pacific Northwest and drive down the coast.
Just as we got heavy into the planning phase, Steve's mother died. Very unexpected and very painful. Steve originally wanted to cancel everything, but I think his mother would not have wanted us to stop our plans because of her death. We made some alternate arrangements and here we are.
Flying into Seattle, we spent the first day wandering the city with friends. Did some of the regular tourist stuff, like the Space Needle, but also wandered into small stalls in the Pike Place Market for infused oils and vinegar and marvelous breads. Had lunch in a little out of the beaten path restaurant and ate the most incredible White truffle chicken salad I have ever had. The sun came out in the afternoon and we continued to wander the waterfront.
Second day was spent picking up the rental car, finishing up Seattle (we tried to find the Deadliest Catch fleet to no avail) and then to Mt. Rainer National Park. The volcano played peek-a-boo all day, but we saw awesome giant redwoods and cedar at the Garden of the Patriarchs. Then we headed to Portland and family!
I knew it had been a long time since I blogged, but May? I really thought it had only been a few weeks. Time flies when I work too much. So, a quick recap...
June and July were work, work, work. We had a big July 4Th event which actually went rather well. So well, Steve and I decided to take two weeks vacation. After a lot of back and forth we decided to go out to the Pacific Northwest and drive down the coast.
Just as we got heavy into the planning phase, Steve's mother died. Very unexpected and very painful. Steve originally wanted to cancel everything, but I think his mother would not have wanted us to stop our plans because of her death. We made some alternate arrangements and here we are.
Flying into Seattle, we spent the first day wandering the city with friends. Did some of the regular tourist stuff, like the Space Needle, but also wandered into small stalls in the Pike Place Market for infused oils and vinegar and marvelous breads. Had lunch in a little out of the beaten path restaurant and ate the most incredible White truffle chicken salad I have ever had. The sun came out in the afternoon and we continued to wander the waterfront.
Second day was spent picking up the rental car, finishing up Seattle (we tried to find the Deadliest Catch fleet to no avail) and then to Mt. Rainer National Park. The volcano played peek-a-boo all day, but we saw awesome giant redwoods and cedar at the Garden of the Patriarchs. Then we headed to Portland and family!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Wow
Lots of things going on, which is why this hasn't been updated in a while!
Work is busy, but we have a bit of a down week this weekend, so I can spend some time with the family, the horses, and most important - the new book.
CATALYST is with my awesome editor. For the next six weeks, he will be dissecting and correcting my baby. The good part is - I know he loves the story and will not try to swing things away from what I am trying to accomplish. A good editor is a price beyond measure. JD is great, I am so lucky God sent me in his direction.
Still trying to get noticed by a publisher, but I know that will happen when God is ready. It's a good story and I know it will resonate with someone.
School is almost over for the year. Standardized test scores are in and we are ready (almost) for summer. Daughter has lots planned - son intends to work and save for a car.
Not too much else to post, I really have some words burning for book two of the trilogy. I have to strike while the words are hot!
Work is busy, but we have a bit of a down week this weekend, so I can spend some time with the family, the horses, and most important - the new book.
CATALYST is with my awesome editor. For the next six weeks, he will be dissecting and correcting my baby. The good part is - I know he loves the story and will not try to swing things away from what I am trying to accomplish. A good editor is a price beyond measure. JD is great, I am so lucky God sent me in his direction.
Still trying to get noticed by a publisher, but I know that will happen when God is ready. It's a good story and I know it will resonate with someone.
School is almost over for the year. Standardized test scores are in and we are ready (almost) for summer. Daughter has lots planned - son intends to work and save for a car.
Not too much else to post, I really have some words burning for book two of the trilogy. I have to strike while the words are hot!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
10K Miles from ATL
Still leaving, still breathing, and still humpin it to get through the second and third periods
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
In Memory of Dreamette...
I hate when I have to work so hard I cannot write.
The month of April is when I am working at my real job the hardest. Usually the weather is awful, when is good for my normal business (special event rental) but also the wildest. Tornadoes, high winds, hail - you name it we get it in the spring. And nothing ruins a good event event quicker then any of the aforementioned weather problems.
Last weekend was one of our biggest spring events. There were lots of tents, lots of alcohol and lots of bad weather. The wind was blowing a small gale. The rain came down in sheets. The mud was everywhere.
At my 'side' job, we kept the horses inside in anticipation of the weather. Across the street, the broodmares were turned out for a short time to allow them to stretch their legs. Mares who are about to foal are miserable. Just like pregnant humans. One mare delivered in early March. The other two were due in early May.
Dreamette was 22 years old. A champion broodmare, she was due for her latest baby the first part of May. Last Saturday during a large spring thunderstorm, she was struck by lightning and killed instantly.
Karma is relentless. Even if Dreamette had been kept inside last Saturday, she wouldn't have been safe. The same storm that hit the paddock also hit the barn, exactly outside the stall she would have been standing in.
I have never truly understood mares who are only used for breeding purposes. It has always seemed like a waste of a good horse. But I can understand grieving for a lost friend and a lost child. She was a star in her own world, producing babies that excelled in their breed. Her last year's foal stands alone in the front pasture, looking for a mother he will never smell or hear again. That, my friends, is worthy of mention.
People think animals are dumb. They consider horses put on this planet for their amusement or abuse. But, they are also mothers, and sons, and daughters, and friends, and companions.
Somewhere Dreamette and the foal who never was are running free, enjoying God's much greener pastures. Free from pain or worry, they will run forever, Dreamette waiting for her other children to join them. May they run free forever.
The month of April is when I am working at my real job the hardest. Usually the weather is awful, when is good for my normal business (special event rental) but also the wildest. Tornadoes, high winds, hail - you name it we get it in the spring. And nothing ruins a good event event quicker then any of the aforementioned weather problems.
Last weekend was one of our biggest spring events. There were lots of tents, lots of alcohol and lots of bad weather. The wind was blowing a small gale. The rain came down in sheets. The mud was everywhere.
At my 'side' job, we kept the horses inside in anticipation of the weather. Across the street, the broodmares were turned out for a short time to allow them to stretch their legs. Mares who are about to foal are miserable. Just like pregnant humans. One mare delivered in early March. The other two were due in early May.
Dreamette was 22 years old. A champion broodmare, she was due for her latest baby the first part of May. Last Saturday during a large spring thunderstorm, she was struck by lightning and killed instantly.
Karma is relentless. Even if Dreamette had been kept inside last Saturday, she wouldn't have been safe. The same storm that hit the paddock also hit the barn, exactly outside the stall she would have been standing in.
I have never truly understood mares who are only used for breeding purposes. It has always seemed like a waste of a good horse. But I can understand grieving for a lost friend and a lost child. She was a star in her own world, producing babies that excelled in their breed. Her last year's foal stands alone in the front pasture, looking for a mother he will never smell or hear again. That, my friends, is worthy of mention.
People think animals are dumb. They consider horses put on this planet for their amusement or abuse. But, they are also mothers, and sons, and daughters, and friends, and companions.
Somewhere Dreamette and the foal who never was are running free, enjoying God's much greener pastures. Free from pain or worry, they will run forever, Dreamette waiting for her other children to join them. May they run free forever.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Triumph and Tragedy
Why do women feel the constant need for cutting each other down?
That is a rhetorical question which has nothing (or everything) to do with this entry. Recently I received a publisher's response from a house I had honestly forgotten I had submitted to. The fact that is was a negative isn't the story. It's what they said that is the subject of my posting.
Once I read their comments I remembered why I sent a query to them. They promised a honest assessment of their rejection. Now, I'm getting used to the "no thank you" letters from publishers. However, what I am having a problem with is what they said next.
They told me I had no story development in the 50 pages I submitted.
Wow. Low blow.
Now, I will confess the opening is probably the only part of my book even I struggled with. My awesome editor (who shall remain nameless except to say that he is my hero) had me cut a lot of the opening right away. That ended up being about eighteen pages, which I am slowly working out my frustration concerning by blogging. But now, even he admits more needed to be lost. And that's probably my fault.
As a writer, I have a hard time separating myself from what I write. I have spent a long time developing this story. These characters have been living in my head for years and I feel a duty to tell their story as honestly and deeply as I hear it internally. To know that I have to separate myself from this and look at the story from a commercial side is hard.
Which in a very round about way brings me to the opening sentence. Girls, in a nutshell, can be very cruel. It is one reason I am not an extremely verbal person. I've never run in the popular group, most people think I am stuck up when I am actually only paralyzingly shy. Girls are like sharks. They swim around in packs looking for weaknesses they can exploit.
Currently my daughter is experiencing the painful lesson that teenage girls are two faced, and it is painful to see her bewilderment at the sudden changes in those she thought her friends. Why do others have to cut down the smallest in the herd? I tell her to try and let it go, but she is just like me. She takes everything way to personal.
Thin skinned people are in for a hard time in this highly competitive culture we live in . Whether they are writers or painters or poets or twelve year old girls, we have to choose what we allow to injure us and to always remember that it can only damage our souls if we let the barb penetrate that deep.
Women are cruel, publishers are even crueler, but teenage girls are killers.
That is a rhetorical question which has nothing (or everything) to do with this entry. Recently I received a publisher's response from a house I had honestly forgotten I had submitted to. The fact that is was a negative isn't the story. It's what they said that is the subject of my posting.
Once I read their comments I remembered why I sent a query to them. They promised a honest assessment of their rejection. Now, I'm getting used to the "no thank you" letters from publishers. However, what I am having a problem with is what they said next.
They told me I had no story development in the 50 pages I submitted.
Wow. Low blow.
Now, I will confess the opening is probably the only part of my book even I struggled with. My awesome editor (who shall remain nameless except to say that he is my hero) had me cut a lot of the opening right away. That ended up being about eighteen pages, which I am slowly working out my frustration concerning by blogging. But now, even he admits more needed to be lost. And that's probably my fault.
As a writer, I have a hard time separating myself from what I write. I have spent a long time developing this story. These characters have been living in my head for years and I feel a duty to tell their story as honestly and deeply as I hear it internally. To know that I have to separate myself from this and look at the story from a commercial side is hard.
Which in a very round about way brings me to the opening sentence. Girls, in a nutshell, can be very cruel. It is one reason I am not an extremely verbal person. I've never run in the popular group, most people think I am stuck up when I am actually only paralyzingly shy. Girls are like sharks. They swim around in packs looking for weaknesses they can exploit.
Currently my daughter is experiencing the painful lesson that teenage girls are two faced, and it is painful to see her bewilderment at the sudden changes in those she thought her friends. Why do others have to cut down the smallest in the herd? I tell her to try and let it go, but she is just like me. She takes everything way to personal.
Thin skinned people are in for a hard time in this highly competitive culture we live in . Whether they are writers or painters or poets or twelve year old girls, we have to choose what we allow to injure us and to always remember that it can only damage our souls if we let the barb penetrate that deep.
Women are cruel, publishers are even crueler, but teenage girls are killers.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
If Patience is a Virtue, Then I Have None!
I have come to the conclusion that I HATE TO WAIT!!!
First, I am waiting to be published. That one single process alone would be enough to test the patience of a saint. Nothing I can think of compares to the long term agony of waiting to hear from a publisher whether they think you are good enough to take a chance upon. Granted, they get more requests in a day than I get spam emails, but still...
I spend half my day at my regular job waiting for the mail to come. Just to see if any of the many people who owe me money have sent any. I get tired of tell my creditors, "not today maybe tomorrow." I just want to be caught up again with all our bills. I want to be able to set some money aside to grow old on.
Right now, I am waiting on a customer to return a credit card authorization form. I sent it more than an hour ago. How long can it take to write down a few numbers and fax it back? Now I am going to be stuck in traffic on the way home, still have to drive to the barn (20 additional minutes in another direction) and I had told my daughter we might go out to the tack store in Roswell. CRAP!
That is the part of being a mom I have a hard time with. When I get home, all I really want to do is take a nap! Not drive all over creation running kids here and there. True, my son takes a good deal of this burden by picking up his sister when I ask, but right now his car is broken and I don't have the money or time to fix it.
Have you ever heard the expression, "Just when I got it all together..."? That's how I feel right now. Money is tight, my kids are demanding, my business is having a hard time, the economy stinks, my son needs a job, my daughter is whiny and everything seems like I need to tie a knot in my rope and hang on.
That's when I need to submerge myself the most in my writing. When everything seems to be falling apart, the stories flow. Is there a corollary between suffering and the creative process? Of course there is. Look at Van Gogh. Look at Michelangelo. When an artist is suffering in their own private morass is when the greatest creations are made. Look at the Sistine Chapel. Look at "Starry Night".
Into every one's life suffering comes. How you deal with it is what makes the difference. I need to turn my problems over to my Higher Power, the Living God. Only He will bring peace to my soul. He gave me a talent and I thank Him everyday for my blessings. Now, I need to learn to praise Him for the suffering.
First, I am waiting to be published. That one single process alone would be enough to test the patience of a saint. Nothing I can think of compares to the long term agony of waiting to hear from a publisher whether they think you are good enough to take a chance upon. Granted, they get more requests in a day than I get spam emails, but still...
I spend half my day at my regular job waiting for the mail to come. Just to see if any of the many people who owe me money have sent any. I get tired of tell my creditors, "not today maybe tomorrow." I just want to be caught up again with all our bills. I want to be able to set some money aside to grow old on.
Right now, I am waiting on a customer to return a credit card authorization form. I sent it more than an hour ago. How long can it take to write down a few numbers and fax it back? Now I am going to be stuck in traffic on the way home, still have to drive to the barn (20 additional minutes in another direction) and I had told my daughter we might go out to the tack store in Roswell. CRAP!
That is the part of being a mom I have a hard time with. When I get home, all I really want to do is take a nap! Not drive all over creation running kids here and there. True, my son takes a good deal of this burden by picking up his sister when I ask, but right now his car is broken and I don't have the money or time to fix it.
Have you ever heard the expression, "Just when I got it all together..."? That's how I feel right now. Money is tight, my kids are demanding, my business is having a hard time, the economy stinks, my son needs a job, my daughter is whiny and everything seems like I need to tie a knot in my rope and hang on.
That's when I need to submerge myself the most in my writing. When everything seems to be falling apart, the stories flow. Is there a corollary between suffering and the creative process? Of course there is. Look at Van Gogh. Look at Michelangelo. When an artist is suffering in their own private morass is when the greatest creations are made. Look at the Sistine Chapel. Look at "Starry Night".
Into every one's life suffering comes. How you deal with it is what makes the difference. I need to turn my problems over to my Higher Power, the Living God. Only He will bring peace to my soul. He gave me a talent and I thank Him everyday for my blessings. Now, I need to learn to praise Him for the suffering.
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