Rift Jump by Greg Mitchell

 Rift Jump by Greg Mitchell

The day Michael Morrison died was the day his life began.

A sinister threat is growing in the void between realities, and Michael has been recruited to stop it. Ripped from his own violent life, he is sent rift jumping to other worlds seeking out the agents of the Dark and putting them to an end by any means necessary. The love of his life, Sara, joins him as he battles Civil War space ships, sea serpents, superpowered humans, and even his own duplicate from a parallel timeline.

But the darkness he fights is growing within him too, calling him to the same destiny as every other Michael from every other world. If he is to change his fate, he must learn to love, to forgive, to trust, and to let the man in the Stetson guide him to become the warrior of the Light he was always meant to be.

Interview with Greg Mitchell

How did you get started writing fiction?

Because I find non-fiction boring. :p As a child, I actually wanted to be a Disney animator (back when they still drew their cartoons), then I wanted to write and draw comic books. My art was never quite up to my standard, though, and I felt really limited in the stories I could tell. Then I set my sights on making movies, but then I was also limited. I had these really huge concepts, but couldn’t find the money to finance the films. I began taking my silver screen stories to prose, where there is no budget. The sky’s the limit. I think in writing fiction, I’ve finally found a way to tell stories where there are no boundaries.

Why did you choose to sign on with Splashdown Books?

I’ve known Grace for awhile and had always wanted to work with her on a project. Have a little jam session. I admire and respect her and what she’s done with Splashdown a great deal. When I started writing Rift Jump, I knew that there was no way a traditional or “typical” Christian publisher would ever take it. It’s very strange, kinda gritty, and a hard genre to nail down (even I have trouble describing it!) and I feared none of the mainstream types would know what to do with it, marketing-wise. Heck, I wasn’t even sure Grace would know what to do with it, but I sent it to her nonetheless and, to my joy, she readily accepted it.

What are your contact links: web sites, blogs, Facebook, Twitter links, your book's page, etc.?

I’m everywhere!

Website: http://www.thecomingevil.blogspot.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/thecomingevil

Twitter: http://twitter.com/TCEauthor

To order Rift Jump: http://www.splashdownbooks.com/darkwater/rift-jump

Visit the following blogs on this Splashdown Blog Tour for Rift Jump by Greg Mitchell.

Grace Bridges            

Fred Warren               

Caprice Hokstad       

Paul Baines                

Travis Perry               

R. L. Copple               

Keven Newsome         

Kat Heckenbach        

Ryan Grabow              

Frank Creed                

Stay Tuned

Splashdown Books, my publisher, is trying something new to us. All of us SB authors will join in a twice a month blog tour of a newly-released SB book and an older title. We're just getting started so we may experience a few glitches as we go.

I don't follow blog tours generally, but I've been checking out the sites of my fellow authors this morning and enjoying the results. My own glimpse of Greg Mitchell's Rift Jump posts tomorrow (and will stay up through the weekend), but if you're curious now, you can start with Kat Heckenbach's site (on my Blogs I Follow list) and then follow the links she's posted at the end of her interview. Every blog will have something different about the book and the author, so take a few minutes to jump around the Internet while you're drinking your coffee. You may accidentally enjoy yourself.

It's certainly more fun than waiting for Farmville to load 4 times.

TUTAW: You Won't Be There

A long, long time ago, a published author told me odds are, I won't be there when a reader picks up my book. I won't be standing beside them in the store. I won't be sitting next to them when they turn the first page. I won't be able to explain anything they don't understand.

This led to my first rule in accepting critiques: don't argue.

I will not argue with a crit partner when she brings up something that bothers her. I may ask more questions to get to the root of the problem, but I will not try to explain what I meant and leave it at that.

Because I won't have that chance with a reader.

If my meaning isn't clear, it's my fault. I'm the writer. I'm the one with something to say. It's up to me to say it as clearly as I know how.

It's true some people will never understand me. Not because of any lack on their part or my part but because our life experiences are so different we have no point of common ground on which to build. Those people will glance at my stories and move on. I'm OK with that. I suspect they are, too.

However, there is no reason for the vast majority of people, especially those people who would normally read my genre, to misunderstand me. My meaning should be clear, even if the meaning is "I'm not going to give you a definitive answer to that question."

TT: Be very careful how often you do that, btw. It irritates the snot out of people.

You've been warned. You won't be there. Write accordingly.

Staring at God

The Big Guy and I are having a staring contest over at

The Cheesecake Thickens.

Right here, too:

It should surprise none of my readers that I am a verbal person. My college years were spent learning therapeutic communication. My learning style is primarily auditory (which means I rocked at lecture classes). I think in words, not pictures, and certainly not emotions.

I have, at times in my life, been at a loss for words. Generally bad times. The most vivid was the year I spent so angry at God all I could say to Him was The Lord's Prayer. I said it sullenly, but I said it. I was like those disciples who remained after Jesus' hard teaching turned the crowds away. "Where else can we go?" they asked. "Only You have the truth." I don't like you very much, but You're all I've got, so I better stick close, you big meanie. OK, that part wasn't in the Bible story, but I'm sure some of them were feeling it. 

I'm not angry at God (much), but I'm tired. I've said everything I know how to say. I've pleaded, I've begged, I've railed and I've cried. I don't have any more words. 

I'm watching people I love do stupid things. I'm watching people I care about go through intense trials. I'm fighting my own exhaustion and interrupted schedule and losing. My garden dies for lack of rain, and I find dead sparrows in the parking garage stairwell. Every little pain seems amplified into mortal wounding and I'm tired of talking about it. Even to God.

So, He and I stare at each other. I don't understand what He's thinking or doing (I never have), but I'm not going anywhere and neither is He. I've said it all. It's His turn to speak, if He chooses. I'm listening.

Maybe you've been there, too.

The Joys of Cutting

Just reset my WIP word count and I'm pleased to announce I've lost 4K words. Don't worry. I plan to add about 80K more, so you'll have plenty to read when I'm done. "Telling" got cut. Way too much telling.

I discovered it's very easy to cut things if, instead of just "deleting," I move them to a "future events" file. I trick my brain into thinking I'll use them somewhere else, and then I don't mind removing them from where they are. Odds are, I'll never use any of it in its entirety, but don't tell my brain, OK? This is working.

Took two tries to get started writing last night, but the second was moderately successful. I'm back at the part where Rhami is going two directions at once (pg 38 - Oi) and I'm pushing past it. My first draft had them arrive way too soon (over-sight) and consequently, I'll have to rearrange a bit to get the timeline back in sync. It's wibbly-wobbly, so shouldn't present too much of a problem.

I'm going to have to write a TUTAW (The Ugly Truth About Writing) about the hard work involved in planning. I sort of did such a post a month ago, but I have more to say. Or maybe just more organized things to say.

Speaking of organized...

We Splashdown folks are working on a how-to book (seriously hoping that's not a secret) and I'm contributing a chapter. Talk about pressure. Allow me to explain.

Teaching requires mastery. Lots of teachers don't know this, which is why America's education system is in the mess it's in.

I'm no master at writing. At best, I'm an idiot savant. Mostly an idiot with flashes of brilliance. That doesn't mean I have the foggiest notion how to transmit those momentary flashes into something concrete and replicable (Is that a word? Spell check offered it). Yet, I'm asked to comment on a topic with enough authority to justify purchase by a student of writing. Pressure indeed.

It is reminiscent of my college English days, except this time, I understand what the teacher wants from me.

TT: Poor Mrs. Warren. I really had no idea, dear lady, and you tried so hard to explain. It's not your fault. My brain was saturated with the arrogance of youth, frozen yogurt and the dazzling novelty of social interaction. You couldn't have gotten through with hot fudge and pecans. I'm very sorry.

I've written the first draft of that how-to chapter. My deadline was last Saturday, but we all got a slight extension, so I'll be fiddling with it over the weekend. I suspect at some point, we'll play Mad-Hatter's-Tea-Party for editing purposes and I'll be rewriting as well as editing for others. At least I hope so. Even I know I'm not ready for publication after two drafts.

My Bed, My Enemy

Mom tells a story from my childhood when my cat jumped on a hamster cage in the middle of the night. The cage fell over, the hamster escaped briefly, the cat protested the loss of a snack and I slept through the whole thing, even though it happened in my room.

Those days are long gone.

I may be legally blind, and what I smell is more often in my brain than in the air, but my ears work just fine. Unless I'm absolutely exhausted or drugged on Benedryl, I hear everything both inside and outside my house.

I hear the cats moving around in the basement. I hear the dog sigh in her sleep. I hear the wind in the trees, and I hear the train crossing the tracks in the wee hours of the morning. You'd think I'd be used to the train by now. I'm not.

I know how to "go to bed." For the most part, I turn off everything "stimulating" one hour before I lie down. No TV. No books. No radio. No intense activity, although I do a little tidying so I won't stay awake worrying about what needs to be done in the morning.

My eyes burn. My eyelids are heavy. My mind seems calm (although how can one truly tell with a mind?).

I lie down, I turn off the light, and everything wakes up. It's like those old baby dolls with the weighted eyes only in reverse. I stand up; I'm tired. I lie down; I'm still tired, but sleep is impossible.

I know all the experts say to get up and do something, but I don't. I'm mentally prepared to toss and turn in a darkened room at 2 AM, but I can't handle the thought of sitting in a chair at the same time. I always have the chance I'll fall asleep lying down. That will never happen in one of my chairs.

I suspect part of it is the heat. Can't really sleep when I'm either throwing off covers for being too hot or flailing around for covers when the air kicks on. That's an every 90 minute cycle.

I suspect part of it is July 4th. I never sleep well with either the threat of fire or the intermittent noise. My neighbors don't just set their death-makers off at once. Oh, no. Near as I can tell, they space them out every 15 to 30 minutes just to guarantee I'm awake. Last night, I'm pretty sure they left to buy more around midnight so the fun could continue until I had no chance whatsoever for a decent night.

Hey, at least the house is still here, right?

I'm most excited about going to work on a Thursday, which is generally a hard day anyway, that will now double as a second Monday after a holiday. Good times await, I'm sure.

OK, I Did It

I did. I won't do it again, I'm sure, but I did it.

I went to Amazon to look at Star of Justice.

I know. I said I wouldn't, and I big fat went and did it anyway.

Fortunately, nothing has changed, except it now says there are four books in stock. That means for those of you waiting for them to be "in stock" to buy, you may now buy.

Still have two reviews. My rank is somewhere in the 1.3 million area (first time I looked at that). I assume that's where I started.

That's fine. I'm good with that. I'm not looking anywhere else. Just sleep-deprivation getting the better of me.

Happy 4th, everybody. Hope you enjoy flirting with death this evening. I know I won't.

A Rant Is Brewing

I'm not lost yet. I have a few threads of self-control waiting to snap, but they're fraying rapidly.

I could comment on the stupidity of married people. Don't you understand you're our example? It's up to you to show us singles that the whole "becoming one" thing is worth it.

You're failing miserably.

I could comment on the stupidity of people in general. Don't you understand that three weeks of no rain and 100+ temperatures translates into "don't set off bottle rockets and Roman candles in your backyard," even if it is the Fourth of July? And really don't do it past 11 PM on a work night, or I will call the cops on your drunken buttocks, you selfish morons. And I'll give them a reason to book me into jail because you'll have had a little accident in the wait.

TT: I asked God to just kill them. Or at least maim them severely enough to have to go to hospital and leave me in peace. He didn't. He's nicer than I am, which is why you should all be grateful I'm not God.

I could go on ad nauseum about the loading issues I'm having with my computer and the Internet. It isn't just Farmville now. I can't tell if my DSL is acting screwy again or if some update didn't load properly, and frankly I'm at the end of whatever rope I'm not hanging myself with.

But, since I have those few threads wrapped so tightly around my self-control it's turning blackish-purple, I won't rant. No point. Doesn't change a thing.

Have a great Fourth, people. Try not to blow yourselves up. Or don't. Don't really care at the moment.

I need a nap.

The Lost Princess

In my continuing search for an alternate title for Elementals, I'm considering The Lost Princess.

Yes, it's been done before, but hear me out.

1) It has been done before. An Amazon search yields four titles, meaning I increase my odds of getting seen by people looking for something else. It could also be said I risk losing attention as a potential reader gets distracted or confused by those other titles, but I may be willing to take that chance.

2) It could apply to either princess. Glorya certainly gets physically lost and Dyana is the prodigal sheep. Am I mixing my parables?

Why not go for the plural, then? Because "princesses" sounds stupid and is annoying to hiss at people. Better to keep it simple and singular.

3) I'm not finding any one or two words to express the multiple dualistic elements of the story. I considered "Essentials," but it sounds like a feminine hygiene product or a line from Victoria's Secret. I'm not OK with people finding that in a search. Suggestions from my test readers tend to focus on one or the other of the story lines, depending on their preferences, so I'm not getting anywhere that way. I've been thinking of it as Elementals for so long, I'm nearly useless in calling it anything else.

4) Finally, it pays homage to one of my favorite authors and favorite books: George MacDonald's The Lost Princess, which I found in my Amazon search, btw. Of course, there is only one princess in that story (Agnes is a shepherd's daughter) but nothing is perfect.

I'm not devoted to the idea, but it's the best I've managed so far.

Why change it? You've asked that before. I'm not sure I should, but since I have creatures called "elementals" in Star of Justice, I don't want readers to think that this book has anything to do with that world other than the same author. It doesn't. I don't even have a sequel planned for Elementals, although a few ideas have floated about in the empty space between 3 and 4 AM.

Which reminds me I'm once again cycling through insomnia, so beware. Crankiness always follows lack of sleep for the turtle.

How to Write a Review

Dear Readers, you've been pestered by authors you know to not only read their book(s) but to write a review for it.

How scary!

You're not a writer. You got C's in English and that was because the teacher liked you. You can't remember the last time you wrote a thank-you note, let alone an essay. Best just to nod politely and scuttle away when your author friend is distracted, right?

Wrong. It doesn't have to be hard to write a review. It doesn't have to take all day, or even require spell check (which Amazon may actually have).

A review is for another reader. They don't expect you to write a treatise on the book. They don't expect you to sum it up for them. In fact, they'd rather you didn't. Amazon prefers reviews be fewer than 300 words. This post will be longer than 300 words.

Think of it as a "comment" about the book.

Just tell one thing you liked and one thing you didn't. That's not hard. The more specific you are, the better, unless you give away secrets. That's no fun for anybody.

Some examples: "I liked how the main character was always cracking jokes at the worst time." "I keep thinking about the story and wondering what they're doing now." "I loved the dragon! He was so cool!" Well, that one isn't terribly specific, but sometimes that's what you've got.

What you didn't like? Some examples: "She kept using 'like this' or 'like that.' It got on my nerves." "The story got pretty complicated in the middle. I had to stop and reread a couple times to make sure I understood." "I hated the ending. I prefer happy endings." OK, that's almost a plot-spoiler but it counts.

See? Simple. You're looking at 15 minutes, tops. Unless you get carried away. You may find you like writing comments about a book. Just keep in mind - no spoilers. Save those for that blog you're going to start for book reviews.

Give it a try. Amazon is really easy for review posting and it is the biggest online seller of books. You'll never have to avoid your writer friend again.

Star of Justice Pronunciation Guide

Yes, I gave you one.

I posted at The Cheesecake Thickens and I'll post it over at Ranunculus Turtle the Facebook Page.

I'll also print it here, just in case you missed it:

I had one. Created it years ago. I left it out of the book because...well, because I had enough of the "high fantasy" genre flags with a map, a quest, a story that took days instead of hours and a world different from Earth. I just didn't want that last nail in the coffin of sub-genre labeling.

TT: Not sure why I object to the label "high fantasy." It should appeal to the elitist in me. Maybe it does and that annoys me.

I also had a high enough page count I couldn't justify adding another two just so people could pronounce made-up words. I made a mistake. Not my first.

Readers appear to be more comfortable with a pronunciation guide. I've had three specifically ask for one, and I've had two others respond with "Oh, that's how you say that?"

Yes, that's how I say that, but it doesn't have to be the way you say it. I come from a State where creek and crik are the same thing (a tiny running stream, in case you're not a Kansan). You can pronounce my made-up words any way you like and I don't mind.

But, for those who absolutely, positively believe the only way to pronounce a made-up word is the way I pronounce it, here ya go:

PRONUNCIATION GUIDE:
Aerion (AIR-ee-on)
Aeriad (A-ree-ADD)
Caissa Ocren (CAY-shuh OH-cren)
Dryad (DRY-ad)
Ehsu (EH-soo)
Flamas (FLAHM-ahs)
Galena (Guh-LAY-nuh)
Gamaliel (Guh-MAY-lee-el)
Golor (GAH-lahr)
Gowan Rudebec (GOW-an Ruhd-a-BECK)
Grambage Garralar (GRAM-badge GAR-uh-lahr)
Indira Sampath (in-DEER-ah SAM-path)
Manarot (MAN-ah-row)
Merritt MacEwan (MARE-it mac-YOU-en)
Naiad (NIGH-ad)
Neriadim (NARE-ee-ah-DEEM)
Oread (OR-ee-ad)
Nauvoo Vehle (NOW-voo VELL-uh)
Radiac (RAY-dee-ack)
Rhami Harvarkoset (RAH-mee HAR-VAR-koh-set)
Shanti (shawn-TEE)

See, Kansans tend to emphasize the first syllable of a two syllable word. That's really the trick to pronouncing any word in my world. If there's a word you don't see up there and want to, leave me a comment. I'll be happy to tell you how to pronounce it the Kansas way.

* * *

If you go to Facebook, "like" my page while you're there, will ya?

Speculative Faith and Kat Heckenbach

My good friend and vicious editor Kat Heckenbach guested over at Speculative Faith yesterday about mixed messages and preachy fiction.

While I would normally give her inordinate amounts of compost for suggesting opposing ideas can be equally true, she makes a good case for balanced presentation of opposing ideas. Check her out over there, and if you like what you read, check out her book Finding Angel (I helped edit) to see how she uses balance in her own writing.

You won't be disappointed.

She also mentions the Iguana's Winter, another excellent read for YA and adult. If you think the name is familiar, Iguana designed the cover for Star of Justice. He also just produced Winter as an audio book, so if you prefer your reading in the "out loud" category, Winter audio is for you.

Nervous

I intend to donate a copy of Star of Justice to my high school alma mater Cair Paravel. My first plan is to send them a copy with a nice letter, but it occurred to me it might need a bit more fanfare than that. My brain went to press releases, student gatherings, something with a podium and flashbulbs.

Yeah, I don't get it, either. I'm not generally one for grand daydreams of fame, but, hey, it's where my brain went.

It was followed almost immediately by the "wow, I don't know how to make that happen and it sure seems like a lot of work for such a small thing" dismissal, so I switched back to Plan A. At least, my waking mind did.

Last night, I dreamed I did the big book reveal at my high school and it was a total flop. Met with criticism, derision, contempt and in one case downright snobbery, I was thoroughly snubbed and humiliated by friends and family. Loads of fun.

Not that I think such a thing would actually come to pass, but it's nice to know my streak of self-doubt continues alive and well.

The Winner!

H.A. Titus won the Star of Justice ebook from my guest post at Melissa Finnegan's blog. A big thank-you to Melissa for having me and a "huzrats!" to Heather.

For those still interested in an ecopy, Smashwords.com is the cheapest place to order and they offer it in any ereader format. I haven't figured out how to load it to Nook, but it shows up just fine on mom's Ipad.

It occurred to me today (why am I always late in thinking of these things) to collect interview questions. I get tired of the same old "how do you get your ideas?" so I'll gather other questions to ask and answer. Problem solved.

Kat has sent Draft Two of Seeking Unseen, so that will keep me busy reading for a few days. I'm three pages in and already looking better, Kat. Don't remember those "sparkling green eyes" being there the first time, but I sure like them.

Have a great day, everybody. Gotta go read.

Letting Go

You would think I learned this with Elementals, but I guess turtles need more reminders than your average elephant.

TT: I'm considering Cleft as a final title for Elementals. I got it from Obadiah 2 - 4: "The pride of your heart has deceived you, you who live in the clefts of the rocks and make your home on the heights, you who say to yourself, 'Who can bring me down to the ground?' Though you soar like the eagle and make your nest among the stars, from there I will bring you down..." The verses refer to the destruction of Edom, but they remind me strongly of the Avese. Thoughts?

I tried something new with Price of Justice. Instead of putting things into a separate note file, I wrote them into the mss with the understanding I would take them out later if they didn't fit there. I hoped it would be a time saver.

Big mistake.

I have conclusively proved my writing style is lean with tendency to plumping, like a Ballpark Frank. Or the body reconstruction scene from The Fifth Element where they build Lelu out of a couple of cells. I write the skeleton first and I go back and add ligaments, then muscle and finally skin to hold everything together. If you're lucky, I'll throw some clothes on it, but not always. Cue Merritt's curtsy.

I tried to reverse the process by including everything I could think of in the first draft believing I would cut it later. Well, the cutting is what's getting in the way. What do I cut? Which part is too much? Is any of it necessary? Arrgh!

When I let go and slice down to the bare bones, I move forward. I also lose all the info I jammed in there in the first place, and I'm sure some of that will go back later. So I've wasted more time than I saved.

So be it. Lesson learned. Again.

I'll reopen my notes file and move those chunks of flesh over there while I figure out what kind of bones this baby has.

It's half-written but it's only just begun. Sigh.

The Hard Work

People think writing is hard work. They're half right. It is hard to sit down and write. However, it is impossible to sit down and write without thinking.

I'm finally thinking about Price of Justice. I thought I had thought about it, but not nearly enough.
Star of Justice occurs on another world. That world has native inhabitants and you get to meet a smattering of half-breed versions of them. You discover a slice of Ah'rahk's history, but mostly you follow after Caissa as she stumbles around trying not to die.

Price of Justice is a far closer look at Ah'rahk. You'll meet full druids, fauns, neriadim, draken and an aeriad or two. You'll cover more territory - from far eastern Barrens to southern York to the western Steppes to Draklan. You'll meet real wizards and sorcerers and learn the difference between the two. At least, I hope you will.

Problem: I have to create all those people and places and I haven't done it. Not really.

I figured this out when rereading my WIP and noticing that the same person is traveling both east and west at the same time. Apparently, I don't know where he's going, which would explain why he can't get there.

I'm solving this problem by keeping my map of Ah'rahk open in "Paint" while I write. Every time we move, I check the map to see where we're going. If I don't know, I stop and think until I do. I make changes to the map and we all proceed.

A painstaking process, yes, but it's becoming rather fun. That's good. If writing isn't fun, it isn't worth it.

Ironically, the hardest part is changing my mind. I keep forgetting I haven't actually published this book yet. I can make all the changes I want, as long as they don't conflict with Star of Justice in an improbable way. Not sure why I can't keep this in my head but I keep losing it.

Maybe I'm thinking too hard.

Hello!

I just noticed I've added a couple of "followers" to this blog. Howdy, folks! Here's hoping you'll find some entertainment value here.

There's still a chance to win a free ebook of Star of Justice at Melissa Finnegan's blog. Just leave a comment there and you're entered. You don't have to have a Kindle to make use of an ebook. Kindle has a free download program for your mac or PC that allows you read on your computer. We also have a straight .pdf file version that you can read with Adobe. We probably have other versions, too. Can't have too many ways to read an ebook.

Wow. I sound like I know what I'm talking about, don't I? It's really just "blah blah, Adobe" to me. I'm throwing words out and hoping they land in some kind of rational order.

Anyhoo... Welcome. God's blessings on you and yours.

Write to the Point with Robynn Tolbert

I'm guesting at Melissa Finnegan's Genesis 50:20 blog today. If you're interested in a free ebook of Star of Justice, stop by and leave a comment to enter her giveaway (and make me look less friendless).

Thanks!

PS: This is the potentially sarcastic interview I agonized over, but Mom's wisdom ruled out and I toned it down a bit. *evil grin*

Renewed

I finished Great Expectations this weekend and was reminded what a true masterpiece of story-telling looks like. A co-worker finished reading Star of Justice and tells me she wanted to re-read it immediately, so I've gotten my kudos for the week. I'm not only waiting for Kat Heckenbach to send her second draft of Book II for edits, but I'm supposed to be writing a non-fiction article of 3000 words by the end of June, so I'm in the wonderful-for-procrastination-purposes position of having other things to do than write on my book.

Which means I'm ready to write on Price of Justice.

I thought I would start writing last night. I took the laptop and the turtle-shaped flash drive into the bedroom (away from the Internet and the newest Farmville release Jade Falls) and settled in for what I hoped would be a few productive hours of writing.

It wasn't quite what I expected.

I had to remind myself of what I have already written. It's changed so much in my head, I can't remember what's on paper anymore. That led to a strong realization that I need to edit while I go, which I simply cannot do on the laptop with that little finger-mouse-pointer thing. I hate those. Then Skamper decided the space between the laptop and my belly was exactly his size so I had to deal with a cat hair arm rest that didn't appreciate the use. Within minutes of turning on the computer, I had five fuzzballs within five feet staring at me with a "what'cha doing, ma?" intensity that was quite unnerving. Miss Kitty didn't join because apparently some ghost had entered the house and she was the only one capable of chasing it around and around.

I suffered another setback when I couldn't find my map of Ah'rahk or even remember where I last saw it. That was an intense two minutes, but I found it in a totally logical place. I need to draw more detailed maps of the specific areas my characters travel this time around. The wide-view is no longer adequate.

Not willing to be completely distracted (though Jade Falls whispered), I turned off the laptop and fetched that monster binder you've seen on FB for some pen and ink time.

I did (I hope) resolve some important issues in the first four chapters, mostly by staring at the ceiling while the cats stared at me and considering all the possible story implications. I also uncovered a few issues I'll have to think about some more. Yes, this time I took notes.

I am now prepared to make useful edits on the first 73 pages of the currently written 406. Those are double-spaced pages, by the way. I haven't hit the 100K mark yet in actual words. Fresh writing will come soon enough once these modifications are made and the cats will just have to adapt to the change of location.

So hurry up, Kat, or I might accidentally make progress on my own WIP. Can't have that, can we?

Warning: Christian

Hello. My name is Robynn and I'm a Christian. I will write Christian books. Find out why over at

The Cheesecake Thickens.

or right here:

I'm a member of several online writers' groups, and recently, one of them posed the question, "should Christian books carry a warning label?" To be honest, I cannot for the life of me remember which group or really any of the particulars. I mostly scanned from the sidelines.

The trigger incident involved an author getting a nasty review because he failed to clearly identify his fiction novel as "Christian," even though three of the tags applied to the novel contained the word "Christian" (I'll save a rant on the -ehem- silliness of readers for later). The author countered by creating a tongue-in-cheek warning to all that his book might contain material known to incite riots in avowed atheists or something to that nature. Good on him.

The thread bounced around a bit, with some authors being pro-warning and some pro-"undercover Christianity" - as in avoiding any and all trigger words that might cause a Christ-hater to "go off" and stop reading, thus getting some Christianity into the reader by accident, as it were.

Wow. I sound a bit harsh there, don't I? Guess I have some issues of my own.

I faced this question for the first time when a person I later learned to be an atheist asked me what "Christian fiction" was. He caught me off guard, but I answered, and, I think pretty well for me, a book that expresses a Christian worldview.

I'll warn you upfront. I'm a Christian. It doesn't matter what genre I choose to write. My writings will stem from a Christian worldview. Do I mind? No. Will you mind? Maybe. Is that my problem? 

Absolutely not.

Jesus Himself said the world would hate Him and most people will reject Him. Why should I gritch and moan because they reject me because of Him? I'd rather proclaim Him before men and be cursed by them than be denied by Him before God.

I do have to point out the irony of an atheist complaining about Christian fantasy, though. Isn't that where all Christian writing should be? In the same genre with false, mythological beings like Ra and Gaia and Zeus? I would think atheists would be thrilled to have Christians writing fantasy. We're doing half their work for them.

I guess there's no pleasing some people.

* * *

Are you reading this on FB? Have you "liked" my author page, Ranunculus Turtle? Why not? 

P.A. Baines Talks About Alpha Redemption

Not here. I suppose I should ask him, but then I'd have to ask other people, and it would become this whole big thing. Sigh.

Anyway, read his interview here and read my review of his book here (if you're interested). I compared it to cauliflower soup, which, if you've ever had cauliflower soup, you know to be high praise indeed. Anything I compare to food is good.

Enjoy!

Why I Don't Read Reviews

I'm referring here to reviews of my own books. I'm also no longer saying "I won't read reviews," because I have read two of them despite all my good intentions.

I'd like to have three bullet-pointed reasons deftly arranged, but it boils down to this: reviews are for readers, not writers. The same way funerals are for survivors, not the deceased.

You have an opinion about my work, but I'm not entitled to know it, nor are you required to share it. If you like my book, great! Glad to hear it. If you don't like my book, great! Glad to hear it. I don't expect everyone to like my book. Oddly enough, I'm not that arrogant.

A review is given after the book is published. I can't make changes after that point. What you like remains the same; what you don't like remains the same. How can reading your praise or censure make one ounce of difference to me where this book is concerned? It can't. It can only make the difference to other readers who might like it or dislike it like you did.

I'm not saying don't review my book. Please, review away. Be honest. Tell what you liked and what you didn't. I'd ask you not to share spoilers, but, again, that's your choice. You don't need me to read your review to make it valid.

One might argue that a review will make my next book stronger. How, exactly? The next book won't be like this book. I've changed. The story has changed. The characters may have changed. Besides, I have crit-partners who regularly beat me upside the head for doing stupid, annoying things in my writing. I have a wide variety of test readers ready to berate me for being too predictable, too obscure or too wordy. I've encouraged them to be as honest as possible, and I listen when they speak.

So, I truly thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews of my book. I'm gratified when you enjoy it, and I'm understanding when you don't. I hope your words make a difference to future readers or to readers who should not read my book because they would hate it like you did.

Your words are for them, not for me.

I respect that.

Things I've Learned Since Publishing a Book

I'd heard about that point in the final editing process where you'd rather set your head on fire and put it out with a sledgehammer than read your mss one more time. I hit that point about four years ago, but I tried to squash my indifference and focus on the task at hand this April with Star of Justice.
Considering what I've found, I failed miserably in the squashing and allowed indifference to win out. So I'm making a checklist for the next book.

1) Run spell check on the entire document. Especially important for made-up names. Just be sure to spell them correctly the first time. This brings me to the addendum to 1): pay attention to spell check while running it.

2) Run grammar check on the entire document. This one will have you banging your head over every fragment of dialogue, but it will catch some (few) things. Not as many as you might hope. I also never trust it's suggestions, but it's a good way to make sure you're saying what you mean to say.

3) Run "find" for everything you can think of, in an orderly fashion, with a checklist. In fact, 1) should probably be "keep a checklist of things to check." Extra spaces, extra punctuation, words that should be italicized or capitalized. Words that shouldn't be italicized or capitalized. If you think of it, write it down and "find" it. Every time.

4) Keep a list of things to check and check them off when you've checked them. I found a couple of things I meant to check or change, yet apparently failed to check or change. Do you know how irritating it is to think of doing something and fail to actually do it? Yeah, you probably do.

5) Read the entire document (yes, I mean that) in a format other than the one you normally use. Really read it, too, not just skimming. I spotted the missing period while reading Star of Justice on my Kindle. Stupid me failed to note the spot, and despite my best efforts, grammar check and "find," that period insists on remaining missing. I figure it's God's way of humbling me.

6) I'd say ask someone else to help, but, frankly, I'm the best judge of this kind of little, piddling stuff. I'd rather save my friends for bigger issues like content and clarity than waste them on comma searches. I love you guys that much. You're welcome.

That's what I've got so far. Feel free to add any suggestions I may have missed. I am once again forcibly reminded how fallible I am. I'm also inclined to run grammar check on this post.

Sleep Disturbance

About two years ago, my eyes started going numb when I get too stressed. I don't know how else to describe it except it's just like when the eye doctor puts those anesthetic drops in my eyes for the glaucoma test. Except it doesn't go away in a couple hours. It goes away when I get unstressed and that usually involves getting more sleep.

They started doing it last week, so I scheduled some vacation time. I've been dealing with it all weekend yet I haven't been able to take any naps or go to bed earlier than normal because of a busy schedule this weekend.

Last night I went to bed about 9:30 in the hopes of staving off some eyelid issues today.

My neighbor, who has been away for the last 10 days on vacation and returned Friday night, started cleaning out his car at 10 PM. He turned his second car's brights on, opened his storage shed and unpacked.

Let me explain that his driveway is four feet from my house. His storage shed is directly outside my bedroom window. I got to listen to every scrape, every door slam, every hinge squeak and every cell phone call he made until after 3 AM. I got to squeeze my eyes against the halo of light coming in around my bedroom curtains. And I got to enjoy his friends coming over around midnight to chat with him for an hour or so.

Had I known he intended to take all night to do this, I might have turned my fan on at 10:15 and been able to sleep. As it was, I would drift off and wake up again forty-five minutes to an hour later to another new, fun noise.

Why didn't I go out and talk to him, you ask? What good would it do? He wasn't breaking any laws.
He can have a light on at night. He wasn't making an unusual amount of noise. For once, he didn't have his car stereo on. He just chose the most ridiculous time possible to clean out his car. Am I supposed to give him grief for poor judgment?

So, I get to face a Monday of stressed-out phone calls from customers who tried to deal with our broken website over the weekend, and a mountain of paperwork left over from dealing with last week's customers dealing with the same broken website, on a two hour nap instead of a nine hour rest while my eyes refuse to focus and occasionally close without my permission. My neighbor, who is a teacher, gets to go to bed and sleep the day away.

Pray for me today. My customers will need it.

On a brighter note, a file I've been trying to upload to my publisher for the last two weeks chose last night to finally launch. Thank You, Lord.

Choices

After several years of quiet, my phone lines are acting up again. Spotty Internet connections, a mysterious "line in use" message that blocks incoming and outgoing calls and cannot be accounted for, considering I've unplugged everything that uses a "line" that I know about, and a monthly bill that increases like kudzu in South Carolina.

I'm "this close" to switching to cable. Except I hate cable. I hate paying for channels I don't watch. I hate ugly lines connected to my house. I hate that I apparently still have to have some kind of interface box or something? We had those when cable started in the 80's. Have we really not found a better way in 30 years? Come on!

I don't want to switch to anything. I hate changing services. I hate start-up fees and special deals that only last 3 months and then you get the REAL bill and dealing with sales people who don't speak English 'cause even if the words are English, I don't speak "tech." I don't know what "wi-fi" is or "DSL" or "single channel service." Argh!

Cable is no better. It's just a new set of lines and boxes that will go bad and have to be replaced for more money. I know this, but I don't want to switch to some other phone company to find out they still use ATT lines, so I still have all these line problems. I HATE TECHNOLOGY!

I appreciate the irony that I'm using technology to say that.

Which begs the question, why are my phones down when my Internet is working? Aren't they THE SAME LINES?! I don't understand, and when I don't understand, I get cranky.

Stay out of my way today. I am not happy.

On a slightly brighter note, Big Brother installed my new storm door last night. It's beautiful, it's functional, and it's much, much warmer. Thank you, Big Brother.

My First Guest Post - I Think?

Sure feels like my first. Maybe my first since publishing. Yeah, let's say that.

Anyhoo, hop over and leave a comment or two. Love to see ya.

Thanks! 

Write to the Point with Caprice Hokstad

I think I have a guest blog post somewhere out there today, but I'm not seeing it yet.

In the meanwhile...

One of my favorite authors gets interviewed about one of my favorite fantasy series on a blog I will visit as a guest myself next month.

Check it out, and if you haven't yet, check out Caprice's newest book, Blood and Brine, also available from Splashdown Books in print and ebook formats.

Book Giveaway - Star of Justice

Not from me. Not yet, anyway.

The giveaway is from my friend and editor Kat Heckenbach aka The Hacker. She needs trivia questions about fantasy books and she's willing to give away one copy of my book to get 50 questions (if I understood her rules correctly. I'm sure she'll edit me if I'm wrong). If she gets more than 50, the winner may get more than one free book. Get moving, people.

One entry only.

One trivia question plus correct answer from a fantasy book of your choice equals one entry.
Deadline: June 27

Her email (and a complete run-down of the rules) is listed at her website. While you're there, go ahead and "follow" her blog and, while you're at it, click "like" on her Facebook author page. Make my book worth something, will ya?

Way to go, Kat.

Too Little-Too Much?

It's been a while since I've taken a vacation day. Last year, maybe? I honestly can't remember.

TT: I'm suddenly craving bacon. What does that mean?

I need to take some vacation days.  It's getting harder to be chipper and up-beat at work and at home. Timing is always a problem, though. We have a couple of official "busy" times at work, but the rest of the time is fairly busy, too. My leaving means much of my stuff won't get done until I get back. Then I have to work harder to catch up, and I need another vacation.

I had this trouble at my old job, too. I never took more than two days off in a row, and I usually ended up with days leftover at the end of the year. I don't consider myself a workaholic, but my schedule tells a different story. 

Of course, what I do with my vacation is another issue. What I'd like to do most is sleep, but that isn't as easy as it sounds. I never go anywhere because I won't leave the critters. If weekends are any indication, I can't handle more than two days off anyway. I tell myself I want to be alone and recharge, but then I wander the house feeling bored or depressed. It's ridiculous, really. Much easier to just go to work and not think about it.

I guess I'm saying I hope to schedule some vacation soon. A couple days where I will give myself permission to not take a shower or leave the bed except to eat take-out food (or dispose of take-out food). Maybe I could catch up on my reading.

Roots

I'd like to say all my gardening time this weekend inspired these writing reflections, but that would be a lie. This was my (rejected due to word count) test run guest post for Tiffany Amber Stockton's blog.
I wanted readers of general romance to know I'm not that different from them, except for my tendency to impale potential love interests with crossbow bolts.

I chose a different topic for Tiffany, so you can read about my romance roots over at

The Cheesecake Thickens.

or here:

My writerly roots are in romance. I started with Barbara Cartland novels. Anything with 18^th century fashion on the cover. Cookie-cutter, yes, but my favorite parts were the clothes. Odd, since I hate dressing up.

TT: Yes, Kat, this is why the scene with the clothesman in Daughter of Anasca is so long.

I read Louis L’Amour, who also manages a fair bit of romance in his westerns. I learned to admire manly, independent men with grit under their fingernails and dirt on their pants. Helps to know how to ride a horse and wrestle a bull, too.

Anne McCaffrey came next, a fantasy/sci-fi writer who always managed to sneak a little boy-meets-girl into her stories about fighting dragons and artificial intelligence. Danger might fall from the sky, but men and women will always find time to woo and marry.

Through it all, George MacDonald, C.S. Lewis’s “master,” instilled a love of fairy and natural wisdom that masquerades as magic in a cold, unfeeling world.

I like a little romance in my action/adventure/mystery novels. I like the energy a feisty exchange between genders can bring to a story. I especially like showing that love is more than chemistry, more than circumstances, and more than fate. Love is a choice, and, more often than not, love is a hard choice.

I hope you'll forgive me if you find a little romance in my books. I try to keep it on the side.

TT: If you're reading this on my FB page, have you "liked" my author page yet, Ranunculus Turtle? I talk more about my writing journey than Farmville over there. Check it out.

Permanent

I've expected a lot of things would happen when I published. I did not expect the sense of panic that comes when reading what used to be my manuscript as a Kindle file with the knowledge that every word may as well be set in stone.

TT: I have discovered it's possible to edit print-on-demand files, for a small fee, so I have the opportunity to remove any missed typos. Another reason to love print-on-demand books.

There is a difference between removing typos and changing content. I won't change content. What is there is there. I must now move forward with all subsequent books using this as my baseline. It's a bit scary. I find myself wondering "Why did I say that?" "What was I thinking there?" "Can I work with that?" I'm gonna have to. It's done.

I knew this was true but I wasn't prepared for the feelings that would come with the actual experience. I'm not hiding in the corner yet, but I've had a few squirmy moments.

The calming part is the secure knowledge that no one cares about what I write as much as I do, and most people won't even notice a mistake. Yes, I find comfort in my audience's apathy.

I also figured out that spreadsheet reports work better if you put the deposits in the "deposit" column instead of the "payment" column and include "all dates" when you run the report. I told you it was something obvious.

I Hate Math

No offense, Mrs. Wallentine, Mr. Sells, but I hate math more now than I did then.

I sold 6 books last night. I took money. I gave correct change. I came home to write it all down, record what's going in the bank and what's staying out for change-giving purposes, and ran a report showing expenses vs income on writing.

As far as I can tell, I have made no profit whatsoever. Not only have I made no profit, but I appear to have lost money. I don't know how that's possible.

I've kept ridiculously meticulous notes. With my math track record, I have to. I know who gave me what and what they got back. I mean, it's $15. How hard is it to accept a 10 and a 5, or a 20 with 5 back? Even I can do that. I keep out 4 five dollar bills so I can do that. All the book money stays in a special envelope and either goes into the bank the next day with a tagline of "writing income" or stays in the envelope for change. I don't mingle those funds with wallet funds. Nothing has disappeared.

Even if you assume I pay the 13.98 retail for these books (which I don't), I collect $15. On that understanding, I should have one dollar and two cents more on each book than I paid, right? Am I right? I can't tell. Is this math or logic? Do I suck at both?

I haven't taken anything out for taxes in my accounting program yet. I listed one expense other than the books themselves which would be enough to eat the profit on the first 13 books, but I should still have more money than I do. What am I doing wrong?

Can I really be so bad at math that I can't make a profit with such simple numbers?

I'm missing something. I know I am. Some completely obvious thing that my old boss glancing across my spreadsheet would notice immediately, but I can't see it.

I've got 10 books left to sell from the case I just bought. I have several venues I need to send free books to for marketing purposes and, frankly, I need to buy another case, but I don't have the money and, according to this math, I won't. I could raise what I charge (and I probably will), but if I can't even figure out why my spreadsheet doesn't show the profit my logic tells me should be there, what good would raising the price do me? I'd just have more money to lose in the morass of sucky thinking.

I know the majority of my profit will come from internet sales. I planned on that, but I also planned to keep books on hand for the instant gratification sale and I thought those would at least pay for themselves. I still believe they are. I just can't figure out why the program doesn't show what I think is true.

I'll have to look at it again tonight. And tomorrow night. And the night after, probably.

I hate math.

Do It Now

I learned this weekend that one of the people listed in Star of Justice's acknowledgments, Smiley Steve the Postman, died unexpectedly this past March.

I met Steve when I started shipping books at Florists' Review. This was before the USPS made Internet postage shipping so easy. I'd take my stack of boxes to the post office and learn how to ship books all over the world.

Four Steves worked at the post office, which is how Smiley Steve got his nickname. He was the Steve who always smiled. He always had a pleasant word and ready laugh. He indicated interest in my book so I gave him a copy to review. He gave me my best complement: "It's like a real book!"

Steve left the post office and I saw him only a few times after that. He had health trouble - something to do with his veins. He'd tried a vein transplant in his leg that didn't work and he ended up with a bionic leg.

I don't know how he died. I didn't ask for details but I gather it was a surprise to everyone. Possibly a heart attack or aneurysm. It was certainly a surprise to me, and I'm not ashamed to say I cried. The world lost a wonderful man and I pray for God's comfort for his family.

You never know who you will touch in your day-to-day life. You never know the impact a smile or laugh or pleasant word will have. Please take the time to share joy with someone every day.

Dear Smiley Steve, you are in my acknowledgements, but you are also in my dedication. You have gone before. You will be remembered and missed.

Keep the faith.

Interview with My Publisher

Grace Bridges of Splashdown Books - my publisher - conducted a little interview over at Rambles of the Literary Equine. God willing, Grace will be visiting Kansas this Fall. Perhaps some of you will meet her in person. The rest can meet her this way. 

Go check it out.

Two of My Favorite People

Two of my favorite authors - P.A. Baines and Diane M. Graham - get together for a chat over at Diane's blog.

Go check it out.

The Turtle

Originally published at The Cheesecake Thickens on May 14, 2012. 

Howdy. I'm the Turtle. Ranunculus Turtle, to be exact, but no one knows how to spell that, let alone say that, so they just call me "Turtle." On occasion, they call me "Snapping Turtle," but I'm fairly calm today.
Although capable of surprising speed when food is involved, I took a while to climb the stairs to the Granny Flat here at The Cheesecake Thickens. Yes, the food is good, but the view hasn't turned out to be quite what anyone expected. The adoring crowds chanting our names and throwing little pickles are noticeably absent. Taller buildings with penthouse apartments block good chunks of sky and excite a certain sense of restlessness. We may sip tea and nibble cheesecake, but it's in between marketing pushes and all-night writing sessions and wrestling with bloated expectations.
My decision to climb these stairs was a long, hard process. It's far easier to graze for fallen strawberries and chocolate on the ground than go hunting out the table top, but - as much as I might wish otherwise - I don't think life is meant to be easy. I think we're supposed to struggle.
I will rest here in the flat for a little while, but not forever, I hope. I suspect if I move enough furniture or wall coverings or bookcases, I'll find a door hiding a set of stairs leading inward and upward. Naturally, I'll be forced to climb them in search of bigger strawberries and better-quality chocolate.
Until then, have a seat, have a cup of tea and keep your hands off my plate or you'll find out just how hard I can snap. Turtles don't share food.
Except for tomatoes. Take as many of those as you like.

Making Up

I don't believe it's possible to make up for lost time but I did my best to make last night slightly more productive than Monday night. I spent Monday night watching TV. Haven't done that in a while. I normally only watch until The Big Bang Theory is over at 7 and move on with my life.

Anyway, this year I WILL donate stuff to the Topeka Police Volunteer Garage Sale fund raiser. I doubt that's the name, but I'm being German and adding descriptors until I get my point across. In order to donate, I have to decide what goes (you think that would be easy - anything covered with a layer of dust and cat hair should qualify yet it does not), clean it so it will sell and pack it into some kind of carrying apparatus for transport to the garage sale site.

I started collecting boxes from work in January, so I've got the carrying apparatuses. Apparati? Where's my Latin teacher when I need him? I've packed a few obvious things away in the intervening months, but with the garage sale the first weekend in June, I need to get my clean on and get 'er done. I started last night with the promise that 15 minutes a day would see it done.

I spent 45 minutes with Kill Bill vol 1 in the background, a broom close to hand and grim determination. This morning I'll be washing what I put aside last night and boxing it up to leave my house. I have a long way to go but as Mary Poppins would say, "Well begun is half done."

I also planted the remainder of my herb garden (until I find something else I can't live without) and a Blue Lake pole bean I couldn't pass up at the grocery store. I need to make some hose bumpers to protect my blueberries, but I have willow sticks that should work for that if I pound them deep enough. I also desperately need mulch but I'm cruising neighborhoods for stray bags of grass clippings, so I'm working on that.

I think I also wrote my guest blog post submission after all this, which put me in bed around 10:30, an hour and a half past my bedtime. It's all about me and why I wrote Star of Justice, but it's the first essay I've written that broke the 300 word count without trying. Shocker, huh, that I would be most prolific when writing about myself?

Here's hoping Thursday goes well. God's blessings on you and yours today, dear readers.

Calm

It's been rather quiet in Kansas the last couple of weeks, for which I'm grateful. March and April held enough excitement for several months. Now that Star of Justice is published, Mom is on the steady road to recovery and the weather is playing nice, I've been taking a little time to recoup.

Recouping looks different than I imagined. I've worked in my new garden. Weeds arrived in the settled places and unsettled places remain to be settled. Plus, the front yard has been sadly neglected for several years and that must be reclaimed.

I've put the cats in the basement at night. Everyone except Caleb because he knows how to leave sleeping humans lie. I haven't slept through the night this much since I can't remember when, and I love it. I've got to figure a way to do this in the winter, too. Yes, I miss Miss Kitty's warm backside pressed against my cheek but I don't miss her scratching up the carpet at every closed door at 3:45 AM because apparently that's when the closet gremlins start calling.

I'm spending time in the Bible. I accidentally joined a "read through the Bible in a year" class. Realizing there are no accidents for Christians, I'm reading through my chronological Bible. I've just finished David and the Psalms and I'm heading into the kings of Israel and Judah history. I've never gotten this far before in such a goal and I'm determined to finish.

I'm also back at the editing keyboard for author friend Kat Heckenbach. Who knew I edited to relax?

Anyway, I'm supposed to be writing a guest blog post (300-1000 words) for Tiffany Amber Stockton (to appear May 30) and naturally I can't think of a thing to say when someone wants me to speak.

I'm going to toast a bagel, jelly it up and stare at the paltry 183 words I've written so far and ask them why they have to be so few.

I'll be writing down the answer.

Hope the rest of your May is as beautiful as mine has been so far.

Distracted

I intended to write a whiny post about marketing but I got distracted rearranging stuff on this blog.

Now that I'm published, I've moved to The Granny Flat over at The New Authors' Fellowship. It's a position of honor, but it means I won't be blogging there anymore. I moved that link button down.

I will be blogging (every two weeks, I'm thinkin') at The Granny Flat blog The Cheesecake Thickens, so I created a link button for that, but the link is also on my Blogs I Follow list, so you can keep up as you wish.

Even after a four-hour Dramamine-induced nap and a mostly uninterrupted night since I put four cats in the basement early evening and one very early morning (grrr-Skamper!), I'm tired. I'm yawning while I type how tired I am.

I never used to be this tired. Is it age? Diet? Lack of exercise? Too much exercise? Too many cats (shut up)? I don't know. I just remember being ready to tackle the world in my 20s. Now I have trouble tackling a litter box.

Anyway, this has nothing to do with marketing, so I'll wrap it up.

As of yesterday, Star of Justice is officially available for shipping. Click on the cover photo in the top corner of this blog to go to Splashdown's bookshop and get access to a variety of purchasing options. Those little icons to the right of the cover are store links. You can still buy from Amazon or Smashwords or Barnes & Noble, but my publisher gets credit for the sale.

I have copies coming to me, so if you're in town and want to buy from me, that's great. Let me know.

Have a great *yawn* day, readers. Try to stay awake.

Almost Time

Last night, I ordered my first copies of Star of Justice. They'll be here in about a week. That was a weird feeling.

TT: I'll have 13 for sale with this first order, so hands up, people, if you want one from me right away.

Retail looks to be $13.98 for the print version and $6.99 for the ebook (if you buy one from me, it'll probably be $15 to help cover the shipping). If you aren't within walking distance of me, you can buy a print or ebook copy from Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble.com. Smashwords.com sells all versions of ebooks.

I've added a link (it's the book cover) in the upper left corner to Splashdown's bookshop. I think Grace gets a better deal if you order from her, and you'll have a chance to see/buy all the other fabulous Splashdown books from authors/friends Caprice Hokstad, Diane Graham, Kat Heckenbach, Keven Newsome et al.

I'm finally getting a excited in a good way. I'm sure it will turn to nausea soon enough, but I'm trying to enjoy it before then.

May 1st (that's next Tuesday if you check the calendar) is the big day. Thanks for all your support!

Let Me Explain

My lack of desire to be published, indeed my abject terror as the day approached, has led more than one person to raise an eyebrow and wonder, "Then why are you?"

Please allow me to explain. Again.

In my mid-30's, I watched one of those PBS snippets about a 97 year old woman who lived on a farm, milked her own goats, kept chickens and illustrated children's books. I thought, "I want that. I want to be like that when I'm 97. I mean, if I intend to live to 111, I should be doing something and that is right up my alley."

When you're in your mid-30's, hopefully you've figured out the only way to make an idea into reality is to do something. You make a plan. You execute the plan. I didn't want to be published, but if I wanted to be 97 years old writing books with my goats and chickens I would have to first write books and then publish them. I was ahead by one, because I'd already written a book.

So, the publishing.

I remembered my master's class. There we sat on the very first day looking at the course requirements for graduation. They were incredibly daunting. I don't remember all of them but they included 500 face-to-face client contact hours and an hours' long written test plus a huge thesis paper.

Our professor - a therapist himself - smiled. "I know it looks bad. I know it seems daunting right now, but keep in mind you have two years to do all this. The test isn't tomorrow. The paper isn't due next week. You'll do a little every day and when you finally get there, you'll be ready."

He was right. We all made it through.

So I just had to make those writing goals and walk toward them a little every day and when it happened, I'd be ready.

Not so much. Although my mind is set that this is the thing to do, my emotions have tried every possible route to stop me cold. I keep moving forward, and I've finally stopped crying every night and resumed eating normally, but this is purely an exercise of will, as in I will do it. I'm really hoping it gets easier each time. This is not the weight-loss program I would recommend.

Oh, and we're on track for a May 1st release date for Star of Justice print and ebooks through Smashwords, Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I'll get the front cover up here shortly so you can all see the awesome job Keven Newsome did.

How Honest Can I Get?

I don't blog as much as I once did. Part of it is the new job. Not only is a majority of my energy going to learning new skills, but I'm fairly exhausted at the end of the day from dealing with people.

TT: Introverts can learn to deal with people quite well but it takes a lot out of us.

Also thanks to the new job, I can't listen to the radio during the day. I don't have time to catch up on what I missed at night, so my "information feed" and, consequently, my thoughts on current events have dried up. I just don't know as much as I did about the world last year.

TT: I've been a lot calmer the past 8 months.

Blogger changed its format, and, frankly, I hate it. I hate it a lot, so I don't enjoy blogging as much. It doesn't look any different to you out there, but in here it's a whole new bag of worms, and they're an ugly, slimy, prickly mess.

Last but not least, I've pre-edited myself. The one thing I should be blogging about - my experience with upcoming publication - I have not shared because my experiences could distress my friends and family (and publisher) and make me appear to be not only the weirdest person on the planet, but also the most ungrateful, spoiled, whiny mother of a dog who can type English. Meaning, the one topic weighing most heavily on my mind is the one topic I refuse to tackle in print.

Hence, the silence.

I suppose this post is my deliberation on whether I should change that.

Once upon a time, I knew for a fact no one read this blog. I wrote anything and didn't care. I'd like to think I did so in a professional manner, but I was way more honest than I have been lately. I don't reach millions, but I reach a few people I care about very much, and I don't want to do or say anything that would reflect badly on them.

I've suffered a lot this year. Scary-to-me stuff got piled on my plate and I didn't know what to do with it. I've taken it to God - daily - but I miss writing about it. There is a catharsis in writing down my truth and hitting "publish." There's also a risk and it's the risk I haven't wanted to handle.

Anyway, that's me this morning. Maybe I'll tell you more later. Maybe I won't.

I do love and appreciate all of you, dear readers. My one desire is to be worthy of your trust.

No More Pip

With the majority of pre-publication book work done (at least what I'm involved in), my thoughts turn once more to my WIP, the re-named Price of Justice, which might also be called a sequel to Star of Justice. I tend to think of it not as a sequel but as the next season of their lives.

TT: It didn't hurt to have Vaulter start yapping at me to hurry up and give her something else to read about Caissa and the crew.

A few months away make a difference in viewing a story. For the most part, the first draft isn't as awful as I remembered. It is a little scattered, but that's no surprise when I had no target goal.

I've removed Pip as a viewpoint character. I put her in mostly to get the creative juices flowing. While I adore the little sociopath, this isn't her story. She can be a cameo in this book and gain major character status in another book or short story. She won't mind as long as I give her a blueberry pie to eat.

That leaves five viewpoint characters. I can't figure a way to remove the least important one (Kirk) without leaving chunks of story untold. He's the only head I'm willing to occupy in some of those scenes.

Anyway, the consequence for this extraction is a reduced word count, but that's OK. Since I'm learning I should not write by word count anyway, I'm not broken up about it. I write a story until I'm happy with the result. I have no idea how many words that will take until I take them.

Star of Justice at its biggest was 166K. I removed only 4K words in final edits so I don't think being overly-wordy is my issue.

Some might argue I have stuff in there that isn't necessary. I would answer, "try watching The Biggest Loser or American Idol and tell me what's necessary to engage people's interest." At least my book isn't padded with 20 minutes of commercials.

So, I'm not focused on word count anymore but I will keep that little scoreboard up at the top of the blog just to remind me to do something.

Memorial Stones

Guess what I found over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

Challenging

I have this tendency to tackle the hardest thing first. Seems that's not normal. Most people do the easiest thing first and move up to progressively harder tasks.

The Turtle is not most people.

When learning a new skill, I choose the project most professionals would hesitate to tackle (because they know what's involved) because that's the one that looks fun.

First time I built a dollhouse, or anything out of wood, for that matter, I chose the three story row house instead of the one room cabin. When learning to crochet, I made a blanket instead of a potholder. When starting cross stitch, I picked the two by two foot flaming dragon picture with no guidelines instead of the dish towel with the smiley face. 

Problem with this tendency is two-fold. One, if I've bitten off more than I can chew, I don't finish. The blanket got crocheted, along with several more, but the dragon and the dollhouse rest dusty and half-done because I banged into the place where I need mentoring and I have no mentor. Two, if I do finish, I tend to stop using the skill. I mean, I've done the hardest thing, right? Why continue?

I fight this with writing. The first book was challenging because of size and storyline. I hadn't finished a novel before. It was new.

The first book was so easy, I had to make the second more challenging. Two MCs, four viewpoints, and two separate story lines that converge at the end. Months of hair-pulling and head-banging saw it done. Yes, I had some rough spots, but I did it.

Book three wants to play rough. Without realizing it, I've created at least two MCs, five viewpoints, four potential story lines and a definite failure to converge at the end.

Part of this stems from how I started the book, with a non-MC viewpoint to set the stage and get me "started." Part of it stems from the fact that due to certain issues, I can't stay in the main MC's head like I normally would. You'd have to read the book to understand why. Since she changes surroundings so frequently, I have to change POV characters to keep the focus on her and that complicates things since each POV character has his or her own motivations. Just writing it down this way makes me want to bang head on keyboard. This is the story I want to tell. I'm just having trouble telling it. 

My goal today is to write down these extra story lines and see whether I can make them play nice or remove them for later short story fodder. 'Cause they're driving me crazy.

I have only today to do this because "in earnest" edits on Star of Justice start tomorrow. The official release date is May 1, the unofficial release date is April 15, and the Turtle needs to get moving.

Digging Rocks

Should have titled this better, but I was a little brain-dead at the time. Find out why over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

Unexpected

I sat down to write a brief post comparing my garden to my writing and accidentally wrote Monday's NAF post. Meaning, I can't publish it here and now. Meaning, I wanted to let you know why I didn't write something this morning.

Since I've not been blogging consistently for a while, I don't know why I think you'd care, but I do, so I did, so you know.

Later.

Refresh

Sitting here on a Wednesday, trying to dispel the foul mood I went to bed with and woke up with, realizing I haven't read any of the "Blogs I Follow" in I don't know how long and trying to make up for it.

NAF Newbie Heather Titus takes on literary vs genre fiction with a middle-of-the-road take and a wonderful reference to 7 layer cookies. 

I took the F-Score The Lioness recommended over at Factotum Rostrum. Pretty sure I answered something wrong because I completely disagree with my dormant trigger, but I may not know enough about it yet to judge.

Enjoyed Kat's take on cover art and fairies. You're right, Kat. There are way too many girls in flowery dresses on book covers at the moment. That's all I saw in my last walk through the Barns of Nobles.

Shook my head at Vaulter hunched over her computer screen clicking "refresh" at Amazon to see the most current book sales results. I never, never, never, never want to do that. I probably will.

In case you haven't heard, dear readers, Vaulter's book I Am Ocilla is now out and proud of it. I helped edit, and I am happy to say it's worth money, so go buy a copy, either print or ebook version. Both are available.

Vaulter says I may claim that if she gave birth to Ocilla, I slapped her butt and made her cry. I intend to claim it at every opportunity. 

Happy Wednesday, people. I need chocolate.

Shying Away

Had one of those conversations with a co-worker that results in the surprised query, "There's blood in your book? You write bloody stuff?"

Yeah. Yeah I do. Love doing it, in fact, as I've mentioned before.

What I seem to have trouble writing is torture. Not deliberate torture scenes. I've never tried writing one of those and I don't see me doing so in the near (or distant) future.

TT: I guess there is that scene in the furnace room of Manarot in Star of Justice but that wasn't torture for torture's sake, so I'm not counting it.

No, I'm talking about the sort of heartless experimentation on living things that ultimately qualifies as torture. Think the Alchemist's laboratory in The Dark Crystal. It bothers me. I don't mind outright killing in battle. I don't mind dismemberment that results in swift death. What I seem to mind is dismemberment that doesn't result in death.

Not sure why I draw this distinction. Perhaps it's my middle-American upbringing. I'm not used to interacting with maimed creatures. You won't find them in Ah'rahk simply because most people have access to magical herbs or spells that negate crippling injuries. About the only things not curable are death and stupidity, and they're working on death.

Perhaps I've stumbled across one of my own phobias. Watch me scramble to get away from it!

I can't get away from it. This WIP has a villain with an interest in biology and it leads to nasty, heartless experimentation that makes my skin crawl and gives me nightmares. I can't shy away, no matter how much I want to, or the book doesn't get written. I will limit it, though. I've already cut way down on scene-setting because I don't want to imagine what it would look like. I should take a hint from H.P. Lovecraft's early works and stick with "unimaginable horror." 

The non-writers out there are saying, "Just make up another villain."

My dear readers. If only it were that simple.

The Price of Justice is becoming a much different book than I imagined it would be. Internal demons are far nastier than external ones and far harder to battle. Never fear. I will provide that happy ending I demand from my books. You'll just want it to happen sooner than it will. 

Beava

I'm not a diva. I'm a "beava." Find out what that means over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

Spring Fever

Why does it always hit too early?

It's February! I can't go outside and work in the yard. Not most years, anyway. This is not most years.

It's supposed to be the upper 50s today. Unable to help myself, I went out last night - in a dress and dress shoes, no less - and dug around the maple stump just to see if I could.

There's a very real chance I'll be out in the yard tonight, tomorrow and Sunday, moving dirt from the top of the yard to the bottom one wheelbarrow load at a time.

The probability of bringing in a load of dirt presses on my brain. At this point, my dirt is so compacted and ground in with clay (thanks to the first arborist's misuse of a slipskid), I don't know that I'll ever get it back to what could be called "level" without some outside assistance.

I placed my first online plant order last night, too. Sometime in April, I'll come home to a dwarf peach tree, blueberry bushes, sedum ground covers, hosta and a bi-colored butterfly bush, among other things, for under $100. I'll be posting pics on FB, no doubt. This is by no means the end of the plant orders, but the very, very beginning of a long process of transformation.

I hope my enthusiasm is up to the task.

Homeostasis

Yep. It's me, freaking out again, over at

The New Authors' Fellowship. 

You'd think I'd get tired of it, wouldn't you? Not yet.

Impatience

The old saying is "Patience is a virtue."

Nah-unh. Patience is a muscle. You have to develop it. You have to practice it. Sometimes, you just have to lump it.

Winter has finally arrived in Kansas and I'm resenting it just a little bit. It would be one thing if The Swamp were blanketed in snow and I couldn't see all the work needing to be done for years to come.
Alas, in typical Kansas fashion, we are cold and dry, or cold and just wet enough to prevent me from going outside to move mud around. I can't plant. I can't dig. I can't even really lay bricks because I need the ground level and that involves the digging I can't do.

So I stand at my kitchen window, sip hot tea and practice patience. When I can't stand anymore, I go write on The Price of Justice.

Frustration fuels the muse on this book. Good thing. I have plenty to spare.

It's Your Story

Had me a little epiphany over the weekend. Read all about it over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

Changing Times

Will this turn into a rant? I hope not. "Positive" is my word for 2012. It may turn into "positively horrible," but January isn't even over. I'm not going there yet.

A co-worker introduced me to her daughter as Pollyanna yesterday. I explained I'm a cynic the rest of the time.

"That's kind of the opposite," she said.

"I know. It takes a lot of energy to be positive 8 hours a day. Have to recoup the loss somewhere."

So I changed to the new FB timeline. Welcome to way TMI. I'm so grateful The Machine will now publish every second of my life from conception to death for the entire world to see. Makes me feel special. High price to pay for my FV addiction, but I'm paying it.

Anyone else seeing us turning into Aldous Huxley's Brave New World? Little bit chilling, me thinkin'. 

I changed to the "new" Blogger interface. I was encouraged to change months ago but I just couldn't handle one more thing, you know? I hate it, of course, but I'll adapt. Or die.

After doing some sketch work for a friend, it occurred to me this morning I might want to do some sketch work for myself. Splashdown likes to use symbols as chapter headings. I could go with the obvious "star of justice," but maybe Merritt's kilt clasp is more interesting. Or Radiac's symbol. Or something else I haven't thought of. April sounds far away but it really isn't. I need to focus, write stuff down and get to work.

I'll be starting what I'm calling "final edits" on Star of Justice next week. This really means I'll read it for consistency and smooth out any remaining rough spots. Will rabbits be rabbits or erguk? They're kind of both. Does hafmet officially replace paces or hands as a unit of measurement? I say yes, even if it does sound funny when halved. It really does. Try it.

Just how big is Aidan? I have no idea. Not knowing how fast a horse can travel, I kind of guessed most of the time issues. It is magical. I suppose distance could change due to intermittent spacial anomalies of a magical nature. Yeah. Cheating. I agree.

I need to put final touches on the map, too. Yes, I have a map, which officially makes it a "high fantasy." I think Kat wrote a blog about defining high fantasy. Maybe it was Jill Williamson and I got to it from Kat's blog. I can't find it now, which is too bad, because it was hilarious and totally appropriate. Help me out, people. Give me the link.

That's enough. Day job calls and I have breakfast to make.

Hey! No rant! Good on me.

Gethsemane

A little more info on the house issues over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

That's Not Food

So I'm going to lunch yesterday, and I mention I'll be eating "fake spaghetti."

"Spaghettios?" asks a co-worker.

It wasn't spaghettios, but it did get me thinking.

What are spaghettios made of? I know they list ingredients on the back, but what other item we label "food" has the texture and consistency of canned pasta?

Take raviolis. What is that stuffing? Post-processed meat product? Have you looked at it? Have you tried to peel back the outer covering to take a peek? You can't, by the way. It may as well be glued together. Except for that one ravioli in every can that didn't get glued and comes apart when you slide the whole gelatinous mass onto your plate with a gloopy plop.

Don't get me wrong. I've eaten my fair share of canned pastas, even as an adult.
I guess it finally hit me how truly gross they are.

Good thing they're packed with sugar or I might have to swear off.

In Case You Missed It...

God willing, my first novel will be published this year. I signed the contract last week.

April 15, 2012 marks the public debut of Star of Justice (date subject to change *grin*).

I'm pretty calm at the moment. Except for those two nights of staring at the ceiling wondering why I was doing this and what ducks remained to be lined up, and where the line was and did I have all my ducks in the first place or had one been eaten during that Thanksgiving food binge where I briefly blacked out after bolting an entire pot of stuffing?

You know, normal thought processes for the turtle.

Here's some tentative snippets of what's to come.

Cover design: Gungho Iguana, aka Keven Newsome, will revisit his initial envisioning and...do something. I hear I get final approval but the way Iguana works, I might not realize the cover is done until it's been published. He's pretty quick.

Headshots: little referenced but always loved "third brother" Brian Cowen. Yes, mom and I played around with my phone camera, my concrete turtle and a couple cats this weekend, but I intend to have something slightly more professional for the book. Of course, we all know where good intentions lead.

Editing: mostly done. My thanks to the Lioness and Vaulter for their official comments, and Grace for the final say, but after eight years, the book is well past ready to go. I know I'm sick of looking at it. Yes, yes, you'll find the one typo we miss. More power to you. Be sure to mention it on Amazon.

Reviews: I'm absolutely not going to read ANY of these, so, should the muse goose you, feel free to unload without fear of hurting my feelings. I can't handle FB chatter; I certainly can't handle waiting for Galadriel's Daughter to tell me how hackneyed my plot is.

Dedication: I thought I had this one, but I don't. The way the world is tilting, this may be my only shot and I'm not quite arrogant enough to thank myself for writing a book. We'll see.

OK. I'm cold and hungry and I need to figure out what to wear to my day job.
Thank you for your support, dear readers.

Let the game begin.

A Tiny Special Egg

Hey! Did you hear? Excellent news over at

The New Authors' Fellowship. 

P.S. Spread it around.

O My Trees

I look out on a barren wasteland this morning. My broken maple, my dying redbud and, as of yesterday, my power line-entangled elm are gone. I have an unobstructed view of my neighbors. What's worse - they have a view of me.

I didn't understand how much those trees concealed until they came down. All the ugliness of low-income rental housing is revealed.

That's a bit unfair. To my knowledge, all the houses within my direct line of sight have actual owners living in them. However, they are smaller houses and tend to suffer a lot of turnover without a lot of upgrading.

I have no real room to complain. Thanks to the oddness of my current neighbors staring at me whenever I go outside, the previous thickness of mosquito swarms sheltering under my now-vanished trees and a general lack of funds, my yard has little to boast of late.

This is the year of change. God willing, they'll be good changes, and I plan to start with the backyard.

I dug out my garden magazines and spent an afternoon last weekend watching Pride & Prejudice (the Colin Firth/Jennifer Ehle version) and marking interesting plans and plants in all of them. I intend to spend this weekend starting a planting plan, including smaller trees (I've always wanted a Japanese maple), a cutting garden (I can finally grow zinnias!) and a vegetable plot (never grown those before).

Rather than mourn my dear departed woody friends (the squirrels will mourn enough, I'm sure), I'll anticipate the blueberries, serviceberries, asparagus, scabiosa, lavender, basil and peas to come.

After all, gardening is very beneficial exercise. Why should an idiot like Mr. Collins get it all?

Unexpected Pain

In case you missed it yesterday, here's a reminder, over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

I Miss the 80's

Not much of the 80's, mind you. Mostly Phil Collins and Peter Gabriel power ballads and nifty color schemes.

My sock drawer contains the only remaining evidence that the 80's existed. Bright blue, lemon yellow, florescent orange, lime green, royal purple, real red: they're all there. All the colors I used to wear but cannot for the life of me find since 1991 and George Clooney's ER Roman head shave showed up and changed fashion forever.

In the 80's, if you wanted a hot pink dress suit complete with hot pink tights and hot pink heels, you could find it. I know. I had one.

Not all of us want to wear puce, oatmeal and sienna, but those have been my choices since Counselor Troi put on her first cat suit in STNG. That's 20 years ago, people! Isn't it time for the wheel to turn back to fun colors?

I need a spotlight to search my closet full of black and dark brown for another shirt I don't want to wear but must because the current version of red gives me a five o'clock shadow a Jewish rabbi would envy.

I'm a Spring, people. I need bright, clear colors. Stop giving me this Summer and Autumn crap. I can't wear it.

Of course, the difference may be I now shop in Women's instead of Juniors. I don't even want to go there.

Ah, D&D, I Do Miss You

Saw this last night by accident on The Mary Sue and just had to share. Pretty sure I've gamed with these guys, although I knew them by different names. Elf and dwarf names.

Dungeons & Dragons Slam Poetry

My favorite part (a hard choice, even in only 2 minutes, 19 seconds)? When the nerds try to high five and can't. So been there. 

Elder Brother, you and I should memorize this and perform it at every family gathering until one of us dies, and then the other would continue to perform it alone as tribute. 

Yes, I find it that funny.

I also find it nostalgic, so, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go play with my 2d20 and roll a few for old times' sake.

Sick Equals Sucks

The Tickle turned ugly within 24 hours. Went home sick Thursday afternoon and have spent most of the time since either in bed or sitting in a chair wishing my back would stop hurting so I could go back to bed. The worst part about being sick is I can't be anything else. I can't write, or read, or even watch TV because I'm just too miserable. All I can really do is lie there and wish for death. I didn't, because, frankly, I've been sicker, but I came close.

I did keep up with Farmville, through one slitted eye and with kleenex stuffed up my nose, but we all know how addicts are. Gotta get my fix, right?

Even though left nostril continues to dribble, I'm going to work. I can't stay in this house any longer.
That's not true. I have no problem with the house. It's the cess pit the arborists left of my backyard that I can't look at anymore.

Yes, the tree-trimmers came Friday and left total destruction in their wake. They churned up my yard, turning black soil into clay clumps. Still not sure how they managed that. The plumbers had a 20 foot backhoe out there for two days and dug up 90% of my yard, and yet did less damage than four arborists with one tiny backhoe who left cigarette butts, fallen branches, broken paving stones, a downed phone line and a hole in my neighbor's siding.

So, in between bouts of cold medicine, I suffer crying jags and waffle between suicidal and homicidal urges.

That's not true. I've not had a single suicidal urge.

I have had serious concerns about my sanity. I need the cold to go away or snow to come and hide the backyard. 'Cause I can't handle both.