June 2016

June has been a busy month.  Lots of planning the rest of the year (plans laid in November always change by this time of year), and classes are now in full swing of the summer semester.  So, more changes.

The two books in the works have slowed due to homework assignments.  Not that nothing new is coming.  Thorndale (part two) is in revision.  Release to come in August.  Also, Risqué Gamble is coming in October.  That cover is still in the works.  Mitch is being moved from November to December.

Also, SNI: Thorndale (part one) is on sale until June 26th!

 . . .

It came to my attention that I use terms like "punch out" and the like a lot.  As if I do not take writing seriously.  I assure you, there are few things that I take as seriously as my own work.  Not simply because I do it, but because this is a time honored tradition: storytelling, and there are so many before us now who paved the way for the way for new ways to say/convey things, ideas, provoking situations, etc.

What I don't take seriously is: me.  And I aim to keep it that way.  I, myself, am not a joke or carnival side thought.  However, I will not take myself so seriously that I forget I am human, therefore, often erroneous, fallible, but, under the right circumstances, a helluva good time!  To top it off, I also strive for great things.  It is what keeps the head up when everything else seems to be crumbling down.

 . . .

I do have one question, though.  How do authors get the question: Where do you get your ideas?  Ninety percent of the time people find out I write--for a living--I get one flabbergasted look and, "there any money in that?" response.

My only retort by then is, "yeah, sometimes." Sometimes, depending on the company, I keep that to myself for some off-handed smart-alecky remark.  What I do is what I do.  The rest of life, I am who I am.  And laughter is so much better than a stern jaw until some achievement is reached.  Life is too short for that.  Live in between the highs, toboggan the lows so that momentum aids your return to better days, and always make room for those quirky things that give smiles their voice . . . or bark.

But, seriously, people get that question???

Must be the difference in how we carry ourselves . . .

~ See you on the bookshelves!

Funny thing came across the desk last week . . .

Got a submission call in my in-box some days ago. Quite frankly, it is intriguing.  So, yay or nay?  Of course!  With American Necropolis in the works and Thorndale 2 in the sifter, I have time to punch out a short story due by the end of this month.  It ties into American Necropolis anyway, as one character seems destined for a little limelight of their own.

So, am happy to announce Enigma-6 is on the way.  And, if it does not pan out with the submission call, the short story will be placed at the end of an American Necropolis book for anyone out there to enjoy a second ride.


~ See you on the bookshelves!

So . . .

The last hour (maybe it was two) of April saw SNI: Thorndale (part two) validated for Camp NaNoWriMo.  Brought home my second NaNo win in a row, and my first Camp participation.  After several years of little better than good intentions, this was a major feat--at least, for this side of the screen.  Rarely have I sighed just that way, when the prompt lit green with "validated."

But, this is now May and things keep going.  Rolling, growing, changing, shifting, evolving.

American Necropolis is a start and stop kind of project.  Temperamental at best, stalled at worst.  'Mitch' is . . . my personal Everest.  Thorndale 2 is drafted, but not done.  It needs a rewrite for timing reasons.  This is the journey, Folks.  Where most may see this list as problems, they are merely personal challenges.  And, well, I enjoy the test!  (obviously . . .)

I am fleshing out a more detailed outline for American Necropolis and revamping a clearer path for Thorndale 2 tonight.  August is still the projected the release date for Thorndale 2--beginning or end, not yet decided.

Plans for this month include American Necropolis drafted and Thorndale 2 revamped, ready for revision next month.

Best thing to do, treat every day like NaNo (my most favorite challenge as it forces me to get out of my own way) and just write-it-down!

October is set to see three books released: American Necropolis: Formations (Horror/Post-Apocalyptic), Risqué Gamble (Romance-Contemporary/Erotic), and Broken Command (Thriller/Mystery).

~ See you on the bookshelves!

Sneak Peek on the covers:

The Month of April . . .

Starting with Camp NaNo, this month got off to a roaring hello.  Thorndale part two is well underway and doing fine!  However, I stalled out in the middle of the month--not from "writer's block," but rather family matters.

Gathering together to clear out an overdue storage unit, the reunion's end felt more like an estate sale.  I dropped my schedule in the wake of such a feeling and focused on the items pulled from the cover of dust.  In it, scattered among half the boxes and piles, barely taped, yet aptly coated in the filth of neglect were things each of us had believed to be lost.  For myself, the most dear is my first novel.  The first one that I dared to complete, I should say.

It is what I consider a fan-fiction nightmare . . . not of sci-fi show or fanciful cartoon or superhero rage from TV/Screen, even a book's characters', but of another outlet just the same.  Fan-fic, being that I was a fan.  Sadly--admittedly--I cannot bear to watch it anymore.  That being said, the fascination still heralds a time, rather phase in life, and one which I devoted so much of myself to complete.

In the last week, I have kept the first notebook of the work close, and the last few pages of the book loose-leafed in a binder on my desk.  Before me, I splayed the pages of an unfinished print out of what I had attempted to type up on an old word processor (also found in time's mire, though the disks have been lost--what little was found, I dare think to be corrupted, but will still try at a later date).

I truly believe that we, as writers, tend our ideas and grown them in different ways.  In a time where I craved to write, but lacked feasible content, back in August or 1998, I sat in the front row of a college math class and dabbled with a few 'characters' of which I adored from fandom.  I even scribbled across their names so that I may write in piece from passing glances.  My instructor thought I kept impeccable notes (as my grade was good), but, oh, little did they know!  Ha, ha, ha.  It was merely writer's fancy; not a love of numbers.

Back then, when ideas were fledgling specters on the wind, I wrote my story out in play/script format--though I left out the Scene locales and used hyphens instead of parentheses for action/notes.  Descriptive narrative was too steep a task.  But, this allowed for growth of an idea and the pages numbering 1-14, soon numbered into the 500s by April the following year--and my goal of writing a novel was now manageable feat.  I did not consider this work a novel for years . . . decades.  It was born from fandom infatuation and not in prose as we all see literary works to be.  So, I believed myself a fool and, over time, this novel lost . . .

Numerous boxes later, a week of inhaling dust, brushing off dead spiders, one mummified rat, and shooing countless, resilient, stinkbugs (they survive bug bombs, just so you know), remorse of a lost work culminated to rekindled nostalgia last night.  At the bottom of a box I was sifting, and beginning to deem trash, lay the missing five notebooks of a dream I had made flesh all those years before.  In February of 1999, I had set down, oblivious to all life but an idea, and rewrote the pieces of a broken story into a completed manuscript (script being the operative word, here).  I slept 1.5-3 hours a day, ate nearly never, and, eight weeks later, had turned eight drafts into a cohesive work.  To this day, my heart and soul lay on those pages.  And it is truly a spiritual experience to visit them again.

So much so that returning to Thorndale after such a reading of the past (and playing old cassettes from those same months or far, far beyond them--talking mix tapes from '88 here) has seemed to be a returning from a pilgrimage.

The untitled work will be retyped, as it lays inked in code (those lovely blocks for spaces and special characters no computer or human can pronounce, between each words, and some letters.  I have 215 pages of this which I have read this week.  highlighters work great in separating the line contents from the blocked interaction--like picking apart the Borg cube).  However, at a later date as well.

This past week has been a greatly awakening experience, one which has restored a deeply confused heart.

~ See you on the bookshelves!

Off to a roaring start on my first Camp NaNo.

3,773 words.  Am finding it most difficult to be unhappy with that beginning.  The fun of it, however, is keeping it going!  This has also gotten me thinking of another NaNo ‘topic.’

NaNoWriMo takes alot of flack for being the challenge that it is.  If you do not find it something which fits in your life, by trying to meet the demands on signup or by merely attempting to reach the 50k on your own (I did this for many unsuccessful years before joining the fray with a username), there is no harm, no foul.  This is a challenge.  Either you meet it head on and conquer or you try and learn.  Not every challenge is suitable for each and every one of us.

But, slamming the gathering as folly or delusion is not needed, if you could not reach the summit.  50k is not a Sunday jaunt through the notebooks, and the challenge is never more than you make it out to be.  I am finding that the Camps allow for more breathing room as the word count is adjustable—so is the November juggernaut, if you do not care about validation.  That, my friend, is a fierce type of freedom all its own.

For those attempting the mound that seems ill-advised, this test is quite simple.  Write the way which is best for you.  If planning makes the trail easiest and the words flow fastest, then plan.  Never stop.  Make scene cards, lists, bios, notations on the day’s work so that you can fine tune that moment next time you settle in to scribe.  If ‘pantsing it’ is more your style, blank page, no outline, no plot lines or the any such, than, you, those rare, freedom fed muses, write!  And write to your soul’s content.  This is not for the popular notion.  Never was.  It began as a dare for the challenge-ready; those few who banded together to test themselves and meet those like-minded, eager to test their literary prowess.  Essentially, it was a group looking to drink, feast heavily on treats of the chocolate persuasion, or toss chaos into their gullet to match the surmountable word count of the day, and laugh as they did so, cheering each other on with every page.  It was comradery.  A rare bond for such solitary an art.

That is my NaNo, as it is for most every WriMo who signs in to log their chances.  And, how, I have added gastro-chaos to the mix of words (there is a thread for that, can read of other exploits on the forum).

Throwing my name into the madness that is so named NaNo is not done for ‘prestige.’  I do not think there is such a thing in NaNo or the Camps.  We are writers.  We gather for that and that alone.  Winners get fun and ooogle-worthy colours on their yearly badges.  If you test, yet come short (a friend of mine missed validation by seven words—he could have added a sentence and resubmitted, but chose to let the words fall where they may), there are still fun and festive colours to adorn your wall of effort.  I wear a badge for a most miserable of years.  50-some words.  That is it.  That is all of my 1650 written words that I logged.  That was the year after my son was born and I did not contribute to my much needed discipline to meet NaNo as it required.

What it requires is: attention.

In one of my creative writing classes in college, the instructor had tacked to the rear wall of the classroom a sign.  Flimsy poster bord as it may be, it was still a sign.  It stated; simply: Due dates are closer than they appear.  NaNo fears feed on this premise, that the sign was, as it is: true.

Still, NaNoWriMo and its younger Camps, are merely what you make of it.  If you enter into the count wary and timid, it will visit your fears and shortcomings upon you.  That is what every type of challenge does.  But, even the most meek of writers, I have seen, win.  It is achieved in sticking to the goal of one word after another, of the dreams of seeing that graph bar reaching the top, and in the diligence of the writer to keep at it!  Doubt never won a NaNo.

Last year, I found myself homeless (spouse and I, our son off visiting family, whom we joined six weeks later, when work allowed).  I sat down at spouse’s work, the laptop, a notebook, and an outlet to make due.  I could have sat there, let self-pity have the party well stocked and waiting.  Instead, I wrote.  I tried.  Words did not always come.  Some days, 5, 7, 12, 22, others, I pushed and I pushed hard.  I focused all I had into the one thing I could control: my own decisions.  I chose to write.  I demanded I keep my mind on the one thing in life I could conquer, when all else seemed to be failing around me.  On the last day, I had nearly 5k to complete.  On more than two previous days, I had met the word count with 10k, 7.7k.  I knew I could do it!  But, I was scared.  In the hotel room we had scraped enough to pay for for a night, spouse off, they lounged watching TV, stopping to give me support anytime I slumped back from the keys.  At least, when I needed it most.  I scrapped, I pulled, I pecked out the words, dry of all energy and focus left to me.  I was spent and down.  The ticker in the corner of the screen, on the other hand, showed I was making progress.  Four hours left to the deadline, and I had 2.4k left to write.  And hour later, .4k.  I wrote faster with each tick of the word count.  And I validated.  I came up short, as often it does.  Somehow, a few hundred words are continually lost to that device.  So, I wrote.  Anything that fit, just to make it cohesive, and tried again.  Ended with 50.6k to validate with 50,021 words.  And with time left.  But, I had met the beast, and I had won—in a time in life where anyone would be justified to give up and walk away.

But, there is more to NaNo than a mere word count.  There is support.  On their forums, I voiced my dismay, when I wanted to log out of the challenge and leave for good.  Within minutes, of busy catchups and word-sprints and worries of their own, WriMos answered the posts.  They encouraged me—often when I was alone and needed the welcome and warmth of words.

So, yes, NaNo is not for the faint of heart scribe.  But it is what you put into it.  You come in with a dreamer’s heart and want and drive, my friend, NaNo is a golden road to the joy of a lifetime.  And, along the way, people to meet you never knew you needed.  There are potlucks and TGIO parties, Brainstorming luncheons, one Region has a chili cookoff to usher in the first words!

This challenge is merely the front door to a community of likeminded wordsmiths who love a good test, and healthy does of ‘what did I get myself into.’

Welcome to the fray.  We have plenty of paper, pens, and powerstrips.  WriMos, each and everyone…

Pre-Camp NaNo Waffle . . .

Well, here's to hoping that dance is over.  I could not, just could not, decide on which project to take on for the thirty day challenge.  Fleshed out the cover art (my new favorite time waster) for American Necropolis.  Any information on that series will come as the words begin to add up.  Can't put everything out there all at once, or even ahead of the project.  Outline for eleven books has been done.  SNI: Thorndale (part two) is outlined, a working cover: made, and plot holes filled.

So, which did I choose?  Sadly, I didn't.  I let my boy delegate my workload.

Yeah, wow, I know.  I know.  But, he, also, really wants to help me write it, too!  He thinks American Necropolis ought to be done in April, but, wasn't sure....  Oh, how he reminds me of someone.  Ha, ha, ha.  Pointing to the notebooks, the decision came out as SNI: Thorndale (part two) for April Camp NaNo and American Necropolis for June Camp NaNo.

And, yes.  I've so little else to blab about right now.

~ See you on the bookshelves

Late Night . . .


Spent the night polishing (and refreshing my memory) an old novel nearly 75% complete.  A romance.  It was a dare.  Ha, ha.  Nothing against the genre, though.  Yes, I have read three or four--it's a work thing.

Moving onto another chapter, my attention wandered . . . and back to cover art, I went.  American Necropolis was calling!  And, I think I did it proud.  So much so, yup, may have guessed it, I waffled back to it for my Camp NaNo project.  600-some words I have done on it.  None will be counted in the Word file for the challenge.

Makes sense, I guess.  Thorndale 2 still has plot holes . . . characters not talking about them yet . . .  Just being honest, here.  They are not telling me jack!

So, hopped up on caffeine and chocolate Oster bunny, I sit down to at least write an update . . . before heading back to the romance novel . . . or sleep.  0437 . . . probably sleep . . .

Good night.

March: the past.

Camp NaNo is coming up.  Ha, ha, had had so many plans to have so much work done by now, leading into the fray of words to page as is the glorious tradition.  But, yeah, no, nothing go done to my liking.  So, got to piddling around the workshop that is my bedroom table--or kitchen counter, or steps (whichever suites my fancy) and looking back at what I have once planned before.  Don't know about habit, but I am most certainly a creature of nostalgia.  And I find the most vivid expanse in that of meaning.

Okay, enough, enough.  Where I once thought I had two good ideas for work, I found I had twenty-two.  Sweet!  Career, yeah, well, we'll see.  That, I leave to time's mercy, as I am merely a writer feeding a hobby (compulsion).

So, good, fears abated of a short writing life.

As for Camp NaNo, I hope someone reading this is competing, too.  Best of luck!  SNI: Thorndale (part two) is in the loading gate.  (chuckles)  How I had another great novel blazing to start there, but, its heat has dwindled.  For now, that one sits back to solidify to a more sustainable option.

With luck, Thorndale will be out with part one by July.  Ha, ha, learned better about timelines the first time through revision.

Another thing else I've learned . . .  Actually, I am forced to realize this year after year of continued challenges: my writing stamina is not as I pretend it to be.  Really need to train the attention span.  ;)

I burn out on things often, and, as of yet (since October), I've yet to relax and breathe between the rushes.  And, prepping Thorndale 1 was a feat!

So, I have parked myself at the desk and set down all I wish to work on this year.  My little red box holds only six scene lists.  The goal: to ride the wave that was a NaNo win in November and published novel in March *three months late).  Honestly, however, I think April heralds a new wave.  These waning days before Camp begins, I intend to spend dreaming.  That blissful delight which is placing words on paper for the fixated enjoyment of the muse--and to really enjoy the ride!

Or, I may colour.  Or . . . glue popsicle sticks together.  Whichever keeps the muse feeling young and enjoying the work.

Because, that is what it is ultimately about.

So, good morning to you all (and by good morning, I mean goodnight).

~ See you on the bookshelves!

Pancakes?

Nah, Mate, Captain Crunch.  At the desk.

Actually, those had been the plan for the morning (afternoon), until I noticed my email.  SNI: Thorndale (part one) has gone LIVE! at all venues.  Woo-hoo! pretty much covers it.  Ha, ha, ha.

To be honest, this feeling of elation matches that of starting a new book, in the zone and putting out a flawless open.  Heh, the trick is to keep the rest of the book that way.  And I so look forward to the challenge.

American Necropolis (also book one of a series) has begun.  Three stand along books are on the schedule, along with a compilation of shorts and poems.  SNI: Thorndale (part two) will be on the desk in the coming months.  I have no plans to make a two part book wait each to a year.

If I can keep pace with my ideal schedule, there will be a book out nearly every month for the duration of 2016.

We shall see...

~ See you on the bookshelves!

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.