Upload: 29 Feb 2016

After a quick title change (went back to the original) and cover update, SNI: Thorndale (part one) is uploaded to the retailers!!!

1-3 days and it will be open for sales.  For Google Play, 1-5 days and B&N shoppers, may take 1-10 days.  However, will be posting the moment I get confirmation.

....maybe I wish I could say I was going to party tonight, raise a few and toast a piece well done, or maybe just sit back and take in the rejuvenation of a silent night with no writing done, and a moment of closure and peace after the years of putting this together.  But, NOPE! Got another three books already on the desk and pages in the works.

For March, the goal is to finish two pieces (novels) already written.  And one novella of a much longer series to be written.

Last night, I took time off from revision to play.  Just to write a fledgling idea that was little better than a daydream, for the sheer fun of writing's sake.  No deadlines, no further thoughts of the work required at the finish of its pages, I simply wrote to move the pencil and draw with words the make believe that is creation.  Gods, was it FUN!!!

And, I have a forth book to work on this month.  Actually, Book In A Week challenge is coming up.  As I am not a fan of supplying head shots, I'm not going to enter officially.  But, I did not enter my first four NaNo's either.  But, I answered the challenge.  I think, with 'Broken Command,' I'm going to answer it again.

Best tip I could give, and have gotten, for making this work is: always keep something being written.  99% of successful writers are so because they never stop.  They always put out more.  I wish you the best, should you fall into that 1% able to retire with houses in three countries off of just one book or short story.  Ha, ha, not likely, but not going to say it has not happened--or could.

As for my side of the screen, there will still be work being done, papers shuffling, pencils, pens, and crayons scratching, keys stroking the diodes beneath to lighten or dim the display above.

~ See you on the book shelves!

Revising has brought about a few observations (as it always does) . . .

#1) Murdering your darlings.

               I once read that finishing a novel is like taking a child out into the yard and shooting it.  This is not far off.  Imagination can be a helluva thing, and this feels the same.  In revision the phrase given above stems from the feeling of sacrificing the story, its heart, soul, and all we wished to convey for structure.  Oh, how I can attest to that march of red...but, it has its purpose.

#2) Substance is nothing without setup.

              The greatest lyric line I have ever heard, comes from Miranda Lambert's Mama's Broken Heart.  "Word got around to the barflies and the Baptist"  In itself, it is quite eloquent, but, taking in the entire verse prior to it... POW!  It is perfection!!  Substance is, in deed, nothing without setup.  And it bears repetition.

#3) Writers are full of themselves.

              True.  And false.  How we want it, how the characters need it, and how the language requires it rarely ever align.  I'm vowing to keep the characters whole and their story true.  At the same time, skill of craft dictates I strive to improve my usage.  Over time, as always, there will be an evolution in the words I place on the page.  Ego, I hang outside for those no idea days, where I can dress it up as a scarecrow and name it Fred.

#4) There will be times in revision where you will regret (rue) the day you ever said, "I'll fix it later."

              Guess what.  It's later!  And the first rule of writing--just get it on the page--has come back to bite you in the arse.  Trust me, been there.  Am here.  Solution?  Fix it.  This is where you can stop the world and nit pick it into place and polish to your heart's content.  Just . . . stop while the shine is good.  Then give it a twenty-four hour rest before doing it again.

Some pages are all post-its...takes six to do it. One page has eight.  This is not where we writers waver and bend to breaking.  This is a writer's trial by fire and where we become tempered to get this right.

For a lot of years, I wrote under pseudonyms.  I never cared for people to know I did this--as a hobby and for print.  It was never an, oh, I do this, kind of thing.  People made such a big deal about it that I kept to my comfy little cubbyhole.  A hand-me-down desk in my apartment's back room.  That was where I lived, where I played, where I worked; where I wrote the most horrible slosh while waiting for that proverbial lightning strike.

That, my friend, is life.  Never was it glory.  And it's still not.  I do this now because it is still me.  The only change: I want to tread on my own name.  And, that, I do because I am who I am.  I never wish to be anyone else.  In Tarot, the Fool emerges for a journey, a great adventure of discovery.  At a certain point of that, he casts off trappings (picked up along the way) for his, once again true self.  My wheel came around.  Ha, ha.

I put this out because this is how this works.  This is also a pass/fail of self-publishing.  If I flop, don't take my advice.  If I make it, solely on my own, use the bits of this you need and blaze your own trail.  I will raise a beer for you either way.  A toast to Success is always a worthwhile drink (even if you missed for the moment, the next bit of effort may win the prize).  Never stop.  Never give up.  Never turn your back on yourself, but, mostly, your characters.  Ha, ha!  They never go away and know where you live.

--See you on the bookshelves!

Stirring from the underside . . .

It has been a long time since I last posted here.  Have moved two states since then, graduated from college, went back into the workforce for little more than a year, and am raising a wonderful son.  Have also left the workforce, trying to get back into it, and won first Nano!  That novel is next on the rehab (revision) list.  Hope to have that out in March sometime.  Title: Rebellion's Price.

As for now, 'Mitch' is finally finished (aim to revise sometime in Sep-Oct).  SNI: Torin (part one) is being finished for a postponed release in February.  Aimed to get it into print as well as e-book, but, will have to delay that option for now.  Still looking.

Cover art for Torin-P1 is done.

Sad news, The Forest Green has been dropped by Alfie Dog Limited.  Was not selling well, so was a mutual step down.  Wish them the best and was great fun being a part of them while it lasted.

So!  Onward and upward as the rubber band snaps.  On my FB: Fox R. R. Haddock, I've posted an excerpt of the coming Torin-P1.  Here it is (without the format issues! haha):

            Hair of murky brown pulled into a banded leather tie; eyes shining as if polished, Torin spied the building, seemingly lost in thought.  Sinclair knew better.  She was listening.  He, too, could hear the chants.  Outside the boundaries Torin had set as safety, men no one else could see eyed them from ghostly cowls.  They dotted the landscape about the castle.

           Sinclair kept kindness at his lips as Torin let out a breath, not unlike most she had ever taken.  She turned for her hand to shake his with a firm awareness.  Behind them, over the short cut grasses and under slumbering skies, gathered their oak brethren.

            “Stay clear,” Torin prayed for her clansmen's safety, “and await their signal.”

            “Will do,” Sinclair agreed, not looking forward to seeing his distant kin going into the property which had once been a place of her demise.  Blood made no-never-mind to him.  Torin was a sister.  They had simply met too late to have enjoyed it.  “Be safe,” Sinclair hushed as Dion sauntered over, reflective stripe of the medium’s black jumpsuit dull in comparison with their ice-white hair.

            “Ready?” David asked.  Torin gave a short, dutiful nod as she let go of her Scottish brother.  How much, David did not fully know—yet.  “Alright,” David looked scantly between the two of them.  Behind Sinclair stood gathered a number of man in green robes and gold belts of braided cord.  Their purpose, David did not agree with.  SNI had their own source of protection and could withstand the efforts of any entity.  The team had—many times—in the twelve years David had overseen them.

            “Why don’t you stay out here,” David pointed verbally, “unless we call you?”

            “Sure thing, Boss,” a hooded man from the back spoke for the group.  Sinclair smiled despite his own masterful demeanor.  Torin, David had to look twice, was biting back a snicker; her face turned away to hide the strangle of such a smile it may have matched Sinclair’s—had it lived.

            “We’ll be here,” Sinclair affirmed, joyfulness no longer seen.  The man’s eyes, David acknowledged, were on the team’s newest, and apparently least known, addition.  “SNI will have no interference from us, Mr. Dion,” Sinclair finalized, eyes finding the man which he addressed.  “You have my word.”

            “Thank you,” David turned to lead Torin away.  Sinclair’s jaw puffed at the sides from the distance inserted from where she had just stood.

            “Torin,” Sinclair halted her steps.  Torin walked back to where she had been.  Sinclair stepped closer for one final hug—prayed it wasn’t.  “You are loved, Child.”

            Torin returned his embrace with a grip that carried more sentiment than she could justly convey.  “By my word, Brother,” she said into the fold of Sinclair’s downed hood.  “We’ll raise a pint at the end.”

            Torin let go, taking her place among the American team.

            ‘Scotia, Cerridwen, I charge you both with her care,’ Sinclair sighed.  With every step Torin took closer to the tower, he felt a strumming, stirring of what was always awake.  And waiting.

Thank you for reading.
More news to come.

2013

Began the year sick as a dog. Then the phones died. Now, husband is sick again. And we're gearing up to move -- and get my business going.

So, how's the writing? Good!

'Deconstructed' is coming along. 'Mitch' is just about finished.

Word counts are short for last month, but are still on track for February. Cannot wait to get 'Mitch' ready for revision. Is long overdue...

08 December 2012

Long time, no blog.  Life with a little one is something else.  LOL.  Am loving it.  Made Nano a little . . . interesting, though.  Instead of 50k, I hit 13.  Better than nothing, so I'll take it.  The story is still going.  In fact, it's quite complex for a seat of the pants novel it started out to be.

I sent out another submission tonight.  Poems.  Now, it is a waiting game.  Best time to get some more projects done.  For the new year, I've come up with 5:

"Mitch" -- my 100k novel I've not yet finished.
"Deconstructed" -- the Nano not yet whole, but doing a damn fine job of showing its depth.
"SNI: Thorndale" -- a paranormal drama (book 4 out of 10+).
"Rage" -- zombie book.  Why not, they're fun!
"Risque Gamble" -- the romance I was dared to write by a high school friend (let's stick to traditional, because, frankly, I suck at smut).

On top of those, deadline of 300 days, starting twenty days ago-ish, I've pulled out a short story to revise and flesh out the way I wanted it, before trying to write to the confines of a publisher who had already filled their allotment.  So, goody!  I get to put it right and the way I should have in the first place.  The error in writing it is mine -- I should have written for me first and foremost before submitting.

“Better to write for the self and have no public than to write for the public and have no self.”

 ~ Cyril Connolly

(Critic & Editor 1903-1974)

This is a lesson, sadly, I still find myself learning as time goes on.  Not often, mind you, but even infrequently is enough to know I've forgotten to remember this.  In everything I've written for the sheer joy of creating a written work, I've written solely for myself.  And, when people did come across those, the acclaim was there (base of the matter in writing: having readers appreciate the written words).

Writing for submission calls or to fit within word counts, that is where I keep falling short in 'getting it right.'  Again, that is a clue to see above advice.  Write for yourself.  Write the story your characters have to share.  Ignore the limits, the critics (that inner one's a bitch), and the helpful friends.  In short, F--- the rest and write what your characters know.  All the rest is details -- and those are for the editing.

So, here I sit, sneaking what time I can while the baby sleeps to post a lesson (re)learned and start placing a story back to the tale it was meant to share.  This is a good life -- the life of a writer.

PS: Practice more on writing cover letters, synopsis, and queries.  The business end of the job is by far the most tedious.

21 May 2012

The Forest Green is now available on Alfie Dog Limited.  So far the results have been positive.  But, can't rest on laurels, so, added 2 new projects to the mix.

Raising a little one and writing at the same time has been . . . difficult at best.  Most days, nothing gets done outside of fleshing out what the outline/plot needs.  And, to be honest, am a bit behind in the fantasy project for the anthology.  Luckily, it's by way of open submission call, so I could finish it as time permits and send it out as a stand alone flash novel/novella.

Outlining a new flash novel now, too.  It will start as flash; hoping it grows from there.  On top of that, finished a contest piece -- just needs to be typed then sent.  Will do that today.  And, have a short story being piddled with.  Whatever it takes to get the muse out of unemployment . . .

Life is good!

Writing time simply has to be made, found or stolen.  Once that's figured out, it's smooth sailing.

P.S. No word on Holbrook's (MC) story, but it's still early.  Takes longer to get a yes than a no.  So, taking no news and not exactly bad news.

25 April 2012

Has been way too long since I've been active on here.  Time flies when the sh*t hits the fan -- but in a good way.  Have been working on more projects, new and pending alike, while juggling family life.  My hat is off to single parents.  Holy crap.

Anyway, sent out another submission.  I do hope this one comes back with an acceptance letter.  Will see soon enough.

25 March 2012

My, how things change with a newborn.  But, at the same time, they don't.  Testing new waters with Flash Fiction.  Submission went out a few minutes ago.

Ha, Ha, Ha, took me since 8:30 p.m. (now 2:40 a.m.) to type up the final draft and name it.  Oh, how the little things become anything but when you're feeding and diapering (sometimes simultaneously, it seems) a little one.  Life as a mother is grand.  I honestly would not change it.  Our little guy is the love of my life -- hubby a close tie.

I hope the story does well...

Now, back to mommy work.

12 March 2012

Titanic show marathon, sweet!  Not that it helps move the pen any . . .  Ha, ha, yeah, woe are the distractions we writers face: tv, radio, kids (sometimes a valid excuse, unless you're watching them sleep), lack of kids, pets, lunch, looking for our keys . . .  All mundane and all take the greatest amount of time from the day.

If I had to go meet family at a restaurant, I'd take my notebook and jot done any and everything while waiting for the appetizers, or the family to show up.  Same goes for getting an oil change, new tires, a doc appointment, laundry mat, and so on.  But, gods, when home on my own -- left to my own devices -- I lose all direction sometimes!  Infomercials take precedence over my work.  That's just sad.

How do we get so off tract???

Guess only the gods know, because everyone I know has not a clue.  Just so odd that the simplest, pay-no-attention-to thing takes center stage when we have something so much more important to do.  I would not go as far to call every writer a procrastinator -- not all the time -- but the label hits awfully close at times.

We can be fickle beings, have timid muses and ideas that live only to be fleeting, but, we do get the job done . . . when we finally get our arses out of the 'oh, look, shiny' loop of distractions.  And, I guess that is the biggest obstacle of writing: the writer with the attention span of a gnat.

But, the pen must keep moving.  So, time to turn off the boob tube (unplug the phone, lock the door; close the curtains) and get it in gear.  Besides, what's a obstacle but a challenge in need of besting!

Bring it!

08 March 2012

Hard to believe our little guy has been with us for 2 weeks now.  Main reason I've been MIA this whole time.  Wouldn't trade it for the world, though.  We love him to death!!!

As for work, yeah, I don't know how people leave the house after having kids.  So hard to put them down (for one reason or another).  My hat's off to those who do.

So far, nothing got printed for the hospital -- not that I got much of any sleep there to begin with -- and very little writing has been on the table since returning home.  But, I did get some work done on a screenplay and some sifting/editing done on my novel.  Tonight, 2 hours since I first logged on was spent changing diapers and feeding our little guy, I found a few more publishers for flash fiction.  I have some free-writes that can be turned into something more.  And I look forward to doing so.  Down side, between diapers and feeding, I lost a story idea for another market.  I hope it returns tomorrow, when hubby takes our son for a few hours.

They love Daddy time and I'll get used to not being needed 24/7 when hubby is home on his weekend.  Would be nice.  But, for the most part, I guess I will work when I'm dead -- or once in a while when Daddy time comes around -- or if I can sneak to the pen and pad while he's sleeping.  ;)  hard to do, but I keep trying!

Here's to balance in work and home.  May the tipping point not be too hard to find.

Honest Insecurity

Years back, I once searched (and searched and searched) for another writer to let me know I was not alone in wondering if I was competent enough in writing to keep on this track.  Even after years of publishing history behind me, I wondered about this.  At times, yes, I obsessed over it.  Was I really good at what I did?  Were my stories worthy of print and readers?  That's all I ever want for them, even now.

What I found, however, was that it was a kind of taboo topic.  Apparently, to be a 'good writer' you hide this aspect of the life.  And, yes, every writer feels this at one point or another.  They just keep it hidden -- some better than others.

I bring this up, because there are new writers coming up that may be searching for the same as I once did.  Yes, the wonder/worry is there.  No, you're not alone.  Yes, you are worthy of readers.  Just stay true to yourself.

Today, I was reminded of this ever present teeter from an email with my publisher.  "...high quality material" was mentioned and I could not help but feel (after a short burst of giddiness) that maybe they had the wrong person.  Me?  Did I count among the writers they mentioned?  Really?  Did they sign me by mistake??? (HAHAHA, no, thank the gods!)  It was just that eager and ambitious novice that rattles about the bones.  They are always there, always striving to meet the next bar, and each one raised after that.

I like that novice.  They care nothing of pay.  All they want is to have an audience for the work.  That flame is pure love for the process and to see it through to a desired outcome.  When the work is finished, I let them relish in a 'great work for the ages' before I edit the hell out of it (never trust a rough draft).

The battle is won and lost in editing.  Writing what story is in you to tell, that is you -- your heart, your muse, your own self.  Hone that.  Cast off the worry about anything that may cross your mind, I know that insecurity takes many, many forms.  The story is what matters.  Write it.  Polish it -- work it out like a finely trained athlete.  It will be ready.  You already are.

So, for today, I will enjoy that lingering warmth in that novice while I work on the next set of projects.  Never rest on laurels, they are temporary.  Keep moving, keep growing, KEEP WRITING.

The work is what matters.

19 February 2012

What a three days!  The Forest Green was picked up by a publisher and we have a date for the birth of our son!

Right now, I'm still wrangling my mind around the fact he'll be here soon -- three more days.  It is so surreal . . .

So, yes, time to back things up a bit.

1.  Signed with Alfie Dog Limited three days ago.  The Forest Green is a young adult short story rooted in the paranormal.
. . . Halloween night, Jacob Strom heads out into the woods alone.  Two years later, Frank breaks curfew to search for answers about his friend's disappearance.  But, land keeps secrets -- so does its ghosts . . .

Will post direct link when it's up for download . . . (was the piece submitted on the 13th)

2.  An hour after ending my dry streak (Hell Yeah!!!) is was time for doc visits.  As over the moon as I was over being picked up by Alfie Dog, I'm simply god-smacked now.  Our family will be one member larger Wednesday!

Ha, ha, two game changers in one week.

We've celebrated both, well, publication, and still wrangling with the reality of having a family . . .

'Mitch' is still being worked on -- I'm never without a project.  And am happy to say more progress has been made in her journey.  Honestly, in an effort to keep stress to the bare minimum, I'm a little reluctant to delve too deep into the novel.  It's fraught with emotion and  pitfalls.  Any strong work will have to wait until the little guy is here (and, hopefully, napping).

On the other hand, there are a few more short stories on the way.  And maybe some reworking a novel outline.  . . . I was dared a while back to write a romance (not my forte, but not my worst either) and am still trying to iron out the plot-line for it.  It's been started, and isn't bad, but it needs more life than the traditional take allows it.  (Wicked Grin)  A few more tweaks and it could be ready to go . . .

But, first, the new pieces, 'Mitch,' and the novella (stalled, but eager).

15 February 2012

Heard back on the latest submission (sent out the rejected piece to another pub the day it was kicked back).  They returned with a revision request!  HA! HA!  Am so on over the moon right now . . .  This is a good day!  Despite the embarrassment (cringes).  Typos I should have caught are the worst -- and missing words.  Can't believe I did that, but they liked it enough to reconsider should I fix it.

I am forever grateful!

Can never proof read enough . . .

As for tonight, it's back to the novella.  Seems like a good night to work with zombies. ;)

13 February 2012

Valentine's Eve.  Husband's off to work and I'm doing what I can to further mine (this dry streak has to end some time or another, but only if I keep trying).

I found another hopeful publisher -- there's always another publisher -- for the piece kicked back tonight.  Am hoping for good news.  Though, yes, still taking the rejection as a half win.  Being commended on a piece worth reading and conveyed assurance that it would be picked up soon from another pub is a good thing.

So, cheers to the piece! May it find a home soon.


P.S.  Allow for the little pleasures/at-a-boys.  They're what can keep you going when you begin to wonder.

Never doubt yourself, though.  You write because it's what you do.  No one can take that away.

Submission Update: 11 Dec. 2011

Heard back from the charity anthology.  Another no.  Which then brought the response of, "I'd like to know why you're in such a dry streak lately," from my husband.  Never before have I ever gone so long without any takers.  Usually, one, maybe two subs and I'm off and running.

I almost agree with him.  I wonder, but don't really want to know a reason.  Streaks come and go with no rhyme or reason.  Will be happy when it ends, though.  That, I promise! Ha ha ha.

For now, I'll keep plugging away and writing for my tastes -- no one else's.  Think I have been putting things in for the pub more than I'd like to admit to myself right now.  Time I threw that out the window and wrote solely for me.  It's the one selfish act of writing.  It is, also, what pays off.  Writing for yourself allows you to pour yourself into the work.  That energy and feeling breathes life into the page.

This is something I think I am forgetting with prompt driven projects.  I need to work harder to correct that.

Upside: The pub was enthusiastic (by email) that the piece was a good read.  But, failed due to limited space.  At least they enjoyed looking it over!

05 February 2012

Well, news is news I guess.  Lol.  We are now on baby watch.  The little one is expected anytime in the next few weeks -- a little early, but still in good time.

So, work is on hold until up is no longer down.

29 January 2012

Not been on in a while.  Have rather enjoyed the electronic hiatus.  With pregnancy getting near the end and fatigue taking over, it's been a slow, slow life around here.  I set aside all new work to take care of the little one to be and rest up for his big arrival.  Days are counting down, now!

My novel has seen some progress.  Mainly typing up what I've already written.  Something about pen and paper makes writing truly transform into an art form than typing.  I'll never trade them for the keys.  Is a much more personal, spiritual connection to the work.  Plus, in a storm, you can write by candlelight.

Getting things ready for the next few weeks . . .  Hoping he waits the full month.  And working when I can around the nesting.

15 January 2012

Well, that perfect pub wasn't doable as I had hoped.  I could not get the piece trimmed enough to make it into their preferences.  1k is a lot to cut, and it just was not happening -- not without killing the work.

So, found another place to submit.  Will see how it turns out.  Am hoping for the best (fingers crossed).

Submission Update: 07 January 2012

Got the 'no' I was waiting for, hoping for.  Though, to be honest, I think it was almost a yes (in which case I would have let them have it).  The piece was rejected after 'several' reads.  That alone is quite a boost for me and the work.  I've not written bad (proof right there), it's simply a timing thing.  So, I thanked them and am now off to finish the formatting for the other publisher.

This is what it takes to get out there: a non-stop push to support the work.  The day I give up on any one piece I've written, that had better be the day I die.  I do not put words on the page, I pour myself into them and give it all I have.  Where else would any story get its life, if not from the writer who creates it?

Time for work.  Time to hold up the piece and let it shine . . . and progress on the next story(s).

09 January 2012

Becoming a writer is not a fast track to riches, fame, and all the glitter to be held between the two.  Most people think otherwise.  But, for every writer who makes it to the top of the pile there are about a thousand more who scrape by paying their dues just to have the job.

When I started out, I made nothing.  I worked, wrote, and focused on getting through high school then college.  Still, I plugged away, getting published wherever I could.  Usually, that meant non-paying poetry markets, short stories, or essays.  My mistake, however, was not keeping a pen name with any true loyalty (privacy was the greatest luxury back then) and not keeping track of when and where the pieces went.  A few of the contributor copies are in storage, in another state.

Anyway, when people ask what I do, their eyes go wide and comment about how well I must do or famous I must be.  To be honest, it is rather odd, being on the receiving end of gawking.  The fun comes later, when they bring up the money one could make being a best-seller.  At which point, I kindly smile and explain to them that that is not the norm.  Most of of writer folk make too little or just enough.  In fact, for a month's worth of work here, 1-2 short stories -- when they are picked up -- can bring in $20-100.  All depends on if/when they are accepted (the market can be fickle) and where.

So, for me, the income is not high in that style of writing.  Some others could make it more lucrative, but not by much.  Writing is a work of self and soul.  We do it because we love it.  And because it is what we do, deep inside, not simply killing time.  Labor of love comes to mind, though it has a much deeper seat.

When I am asked why I did it.  Why waste my time on something so utterly worthless (a bad corner performer makes more)?  I smile and let them wonder.  But honestly, I write because I would never want to do anything else.  My characters are my pride and joys.  The lives they live, the emotions they feel, they are as true to reality as you and I.  Giving them that chance to live and breathe is beyond the words that fill the page.

I would do it for free -- have . . . and do.  Once while working in a movie theater, I wrote half a novel on the folded sections of brown paper towels I could tear from the roll.  Was a sequel.  Actually, I wrote two sequels that way.  If that is not an example of the writer's heart, I don't know what is.  But, that is what and why we do what we do.

Well, at least for this writer.