So I have been chastised into blogging again.
It's not that I don't like blogging--I do. It's just that in my seven day array of 18 hour days, I have to give up something to ease my schedule. I like thinking about my blog entries before I write them and...well...unfortunately, I haven't been able to think as of late. I've been doing a lot of editing, and my head is full of other people's characters WHILE finishing the final draft of Asphodel 3.
Oh. Haven't I told you? The Asphodel Cycle 3: Temptation of Asphodel will be released THIS FALL. This October 27th, to be precise. *grin*
Surprise!
Should be fun, I'm thinking.
The great thing about editing is how much my writing has improved. I'm a lot harder on my manuscripts that I was before, which means that I'm eliminationg all of my bad writer habits --like adverbs and commas--that I used to death before. This is a good thing. Hopefully, this will make MY edits a lot easier. I hope so. I even know how to format the darn thing correctly now. My editor should love it.
*I did it ALL for you Sandy!*
Here's another thought--have you ever noticed when a series gets more exciting as you go through it? Isn't it maddening when you get to the end of a book and you just want MORE. That's the way lots of fantasy series were for me--David Eddings' Belgariad, Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders of Pern, Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Dart, JK Rowling's Harry Potter--all of them page turners to the very end that left you wanting...
...MORE.
That is my new goal. Hopefully I'll figure out how to do this before that final rejection makes me jump off the cliff across the street. We are starting to run short of agents.
But one day, I will find one. I promise.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Cleaning Memories
So the big move is underway.
Since I'm not allowed to pick anything up these days, my job is to pack the valuables and unpack them later. First day of valuables--books. Yeah, like that involved not picking anything up. I lifted a book on Restoration authors and literally cursed the name of the author. That book was HEAVY--not to mention the Norton Anthologies. Then I took it back, of course.
Yesterday's valuables? Family things. It's always sad for me to pack them away, even if it's just for a trip to the next county like this move is. I was somewhat astounded this morning to realize that sometimes it's even sadder to unpack them.
My mother's nationalization flag. It's a small flag, from 1958--all fifty stars and thirteen stripes still bright although the gold paint on the little golden finial is faded. As I unpacked it and put it in its normal place over my desk, I wondered what my mother would say if she saw how cheaply that citizenship is held today. Chiding myself for my obsession with politics, I pulled the next item out of the box.
A crystal Vernus de Milo given to me by my grandmother--my French grandmother. The first time my mother took us (my brother and me) to France, we met our grandmother for the first time. Jeanne Herink was a woman who'd led a colorful life. Her husband, my grandfather Jean Herink, was a cafe' owner in Paris during WWII. When the Nazis marched into Paris, he opened his cafe' and its access to the cellars to the frantic flight of those leaving the city. He operated successfully in the French Underground until the Nazis evacuated just ahead of the Allied invasion. Apparently, he was suspected because the Nazis dragged him from his cafe' and executed him in the street before they left. His widow, my grandmother Jeanne, began an affair with a British officer--a lord,or so I was told. My mother hated that and resented her for it until the day she married my father. The day after, the two quarrelled over some teacups my mom wanted to bring to America and didn't speak for twenty years. Almost like us, in a way--that extended bitterness. The Venus de Milo, a little statuette that stands about 8" tall, was the first gift I ever received from her in her little apartment just across the river from the Eiffel Tower.
My grandfather's traveling clock. A small but heavy clock set into a heavy red leather case. I was told he'd brought it with him from Czechoslovakia as his family hurried west after the Bolshevik revolution in his native Russia. My mother was born there, in some town with an unpronouncable name that I only know from the turn of the century paperweight enscribed with its name. Both of them together, as they've always been, on the shelf with my Shakespeares.
A 19th century hand-sized Sonnets of the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barret Browning. She's my favorite poet from the Romantic era and this little book was the first thing I ever kept from my store inventory. It's faded and aged brown, although the little painted nosegay on the front still glows with light pastels, and I'm afraid to open it. It's in perfect condition, a time capsule from the 1890s and the ultimate temptation: it holds what I want, but I'm afraid to go get it.
The more I went through these things, the more I hung handles on them: Mom's things, Grandmere's things, Grandpere's things--rarely our things or my things. I've moved these things all over the country since my mother's death, revering them--almost sanctifying them because they were hers, or my family's--links back to people I can never see or touch again. These things I treasure, perhaps because they represent relationships or feelings or memories that I don't want to give up. A whole side of my family, and my daughters' heritage, lost save for the trinkets I preserve in my china cabinets and curios.
I think I'll write my family's story down for my kids. Then, one by one, I'll write the story of each little thing and pack it away with its history.
For them to find.
Since I'm not allowed to pick anything up these days, my job is to pack the valuables and unpack them later. First day of valuables--books. Yeah, like that involved not picking anything up. I lifted a book on Restoration authors and literally cursed the name of the author. That book was HEAVY--not to mention the Norton Anthologies. Then I took it back, of course.
Yesterday's valuables? Family things. It's always sad for me to pack them away, even if it's just for a trip to the next county like this move is. I was somewhat astounded this morning to realize that sometimes it's even sadder to unpack them.
My mother's nationalization flag. It's a small flag, from 1958--all fifty stars and thirteen stripes still bright although the gold paint on the little golden finial is faded. As I unpacked it and put it in its normal place over my desk, I wondered what my mother would say if she saw how cheaply that citizenship is held today. Chiding myself for my obsession with politics, I pulled the next item out of the box.
A crystal Vernus de Milo given to me by my grandmother--my French grandmother. The first time my mother took us (my brother and me) to France, we met our grandmother for the first time. Jeanne Herink was a woman who'd led a colorful life. Her husband, my grandfather Jean Herink, was a cafe' owner in Paris during WWII. When the Nazis marched into Paris, he opened his cafe' and its access to the cellars to the frantic flight of those leaving the city. He operated successfully in the French Underground until the Nazis evacuated just ahead of the Allied invasion. Apparently, he was suspected because the Nazis dragged him from his cafe' and executed him in the street before they left. His widow, my grandmother Jeanne, began an affair with a British officer--a lord,or so I was told. My mother hated that and resented her for it until the day she married my father. The day after, the two quarrelled over some teacups my mom wanted to bring to America and didn't speak for twenty years. Almost like us, in a way--that extended bitterness. The Venus de Milo, a little statuette that stands about 8" tall, was the first gift I ever received from her in her little apartment just across the river from the Eiffel Tower.
My grandfather's traveling clock. A small but heavy clock set into a heavy red leather case. I was told he'd brought it with him from Czechoslovakia as his family hurried west after the Bolshevik revolution in his native Russia. My mother was born there, in some town with an unpronouncable name that I only know from the turn of the century paperweight enscribed with its name. Both of them together, as they've always been, on the shelf with my Shakespeares.
A 19th century hand-sized Sonnets of the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barret Browning. She's my favorite poet from the Romantic era and this little book was the first thing I ever kept from my store inventory. It's faded and aged brown, although the little painted nosegay on the front still glows with light pastels, and I'm afraid to open it. It's in perfect condition, a time capsule from the 1890s and the ultimate temptation: it holds what I want, but I'm afraid to go get it.
The more I went through these things, the more I hung handles on them: Mom's things, Grandmere's things, Grandpere's things--rarely our things or my things. I've moved these things all over the country since my mother's death, revering them--almost sanctifying them because they were hers, or my family's--links back to people I can never see or touch again. These things I treasure, perhaps because they represent relationships or feelings or memories that I don't want to give up. A whole side of my family, and my daughters' heritage, lost save for the trinkets I preserve in my china cabinets and curios.
I think I'll write my family's story down for my kids. Then, one by one, I'll write the story of each little thing and pack it away with its history.
For them to find.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
A Post of SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEs in Threes!
Okay--I get to have a brag post!
The first reviews of The Gift of Redemption are coming in. The first came from Coffee Time Romance, which sort of surprised me because they hadn't reviewed any of my work--including The Reckoning of Asphodel. Anyhoo, Regina has this to say about Redemption:
You can read the entire review here.
I was really pleased with Regina's take on the book--she really seemed to get where the characters and the story were coming from and she'd never read the first book. So I had a little SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE! moment and went back to moving.
Which I hate.
Then this morning, I found a review in my inbox from Brianna at Bitten by Books:
How can you argue with a reviewer that admits my story made her cry???
Exactly. You can't.
So, I went outside and had a celebratory Coke and cigarette. While I was sitting on the deck, Emily the hummingbird buzzed by my head. She does this now whenever my husband Shannon or I are outside, buzzing our heads to let us know she's there and then looking at us for a few minutes like she's thankful--very cute. She hovered for a minute, her dark eyes glittering and contented again, and then went back to the feeder. I think she's coming along better now that her eggs have hatched. She's filling out a bit and starting to store it up for the impending trip to warmer climes. I suspect that it won't be long before she brings her babies by to inspect the deck, the flowers, the silly old Lab asleep in the sun, and teaches them how to drink from the feeder. I really hope that when this occurs, I'll be sitting out there also with my laptop handy.
If it does, then I'll tell you all about it.
Thanks for sharing my SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEs in threes. Emily says hi!
The first reviews of The Gift of Redemption are coming in. The first came from Coffee Time Romance, which sort of surprised me because they hadn't reviewed any of my work--including The Reckoning of Asphodel. Anyhoo, Regina has this to say about Redemption:
This has to be the best fantasy romance I have ever read. I could not put this book down until I had read the final page. While it is clearly the second book in a series, the author does such a good job of weaving background information into the storyline that the reader never feels cheated. Ms. Summers skillfully draws her readers into the book. The characters are so realistic that they appear to step from the pages. A devilishly wonderful book that I highly recommend to one and all!
You can read the entire review here.
I was really pleased with Regina's take on the book--she really seemed to get where the characters and the story were coming from and she'd never read the first book. So I had a little SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE! moment and went back to moving.
Which I hate.
Then this morning, I found a review in my inbox from Brianna at Bitten by Books:
I’m giving The Gift of Redemption 4 ½ tombstones. I loved revisiting the characters,and watching them grow – especially Tamsen – was a delight. Celina Summers really packs in the drama and love that was so evident in her first novel into this action-packed delight. There is a scene at the end that left me in tears. I would read the first book in the series, The Reckoning of Asphodel, before I picked this one up. The Reckoning of Asphodel is integral to understanding the beautiful world Summers has created.
How can you argue with a reviewer that admits my story made her cry???
Exactly. You can't.
So, I went outside and had a celebratory Coke and cigarette. While I was sitting on the deck, Emily the hummingbird buzzed by my head. She does this now whenever my husband Shannon or I are outside, buzzing our heads to let us know she's there and then looking at us for a few minutes like she's thankful--very cute. She hovered for a minute, her dark eyes glittering and contented again, and then went back to the feeder. I think she's coming along better now that her eggs have hatched. She's filling out a bit and starting to store it up for the impending trip to warmer climes. I suspect that it won't be long before she brings her babies by to inspect the deck, the flowers, the silly old Lab asleep in the sun, and teaches them how to drink from the feeder. I really hope that when this occurs, I'll be sitting out there also with my laptop handy.
If it does, then I'll tell you all about it.
Thanks for sharing my SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEs in threes. Emily says hi!
Friday, August 01, 2008
Casualty In The Great Hummingbird War of Hocking County
So we walked into the garage today and got a horrible shock.
Emily, my little hummingbird friend, was trapped in the garage. The poor little thing kept flying into the ceiling, bashing against the wall and the garage door, desperately trying to find a way out. She wouldn't settle on anything to rest; by the time we found her, she must have been bumping into things for hours. She was exhausted, and terrified.
We knew we had to get her out.
Now picture this: four adults, armed with brooms and ladders and plastic containers trying to herd a scared hummingbird into something so that we could take her outside and set her free. Not only was it probably funny to anyone that might have caught a glimpse of it, it was upsetting. Other hummingbirds lined the fence outside, calling to Emily as she darted from side to side, her little wings beating so slowly that it was like watching any other species of bird. She's particularly gaunt at the moment, having (apparently) hatched her eggs in the privacy of her woven spiderweb and lichen nest.
She's also spunky.
Twenty minutes passed, and finally my husband, perched precariously with one foot on the ladder and another on the top of the SUV, trapped her in an old plastic tub. When she settled down finally within it, Shannon slipped a plastic lid over the tub and we took Emily outside.
She was so tired that when we removed the lid, she just sat there looking at us. It's the closest I've ever been to a living hummingbird, and this one just stared at us from dulled eyes. The only life about her flashed from her emerald feathers--the ones on her back that I'd never seen when she darted at the feeder.
She stayed with us for five minutes, communing in her silent way with the two huge creatures that has brought her out into the open. She could smell the dusty scent of the grass, the fading aroma of the late lilies, the wind swirling gently around her feathers. She permitted me to touch her--one gentle stroke across her little back, then cocked her head and glanced over her shoulder with a quiet chirp.
Then she pushed off from the plastic container and rose into the sky. She didn't hover; she fled to the safety of the nearby woods, probably to check on her growing young ones.
An hour later, she visted our feeder again. She hovered near us, looking at us both, then perched on the little yellow flowers of the hummingbird feeder and drank her fill.
We saved a hummingbird today. What a great karmic experience! But, in the end, I realized that in some way Emily had given us a precious gift. For a few quiet moments, we earned this tiny creature's trust. And then she rose back onto the skies, and we knew that our efforts had been rewarded. She would live, and thrive, in the environment she was meant to enjoy.
And on one hot August day, we would live and thrive in the knowledge that we had done some good for the earth she lived on. It was a great feeling.
So...we drank vodka to celebrate.
Emily, my little hummingbird friend, was trapped in the garage. The poor little thing kept flying into the ceiling, bashing against the wall and the garage door, desperately trying to find a way out. She wouldn't settle on anything to rest; by the time we found her, she must have been bumping into things for hours. She was exhausted, and terrified.
We knew we had to get her out.
Now picture this: four adults, armed with brooms and ladders and plastic containers trying to herd a scared hummingbird into something so that we could take her outside and set her free. Not only was it probably funny to anyone that might have caught a glimpse of it, it was upsetting. Other hummingbirds lined the fence outside, calling to Emily as she darted from side to side, her little wings beating so slowly that it was like watching any other species of bird. She's particularly gaunt at the moment, having (apparently) hatched her eggs in the privacy of her woven spiderweb and lichen nest.
She's also spunky.
Twenty minutes passed, and finally my husband, perched precariously with one foot on the ladder and another on the top of the SUV, trapped her in an old plastic tub. When she settled down finally within it, Shannon slipped a plastic lid over the tub and we took Emily outside.
She was so tired that when we removed the lid, she just sat there looking at us. It's the closest I've ever been to a living hummingbird, and this one just stared at us from dulled eyes. The only life about her flashed from her emerald feathers--the ones on her back that I'd never seen when she darted at the feeder.
She stayed with us for five minutes, communing in her silent way with the two huge creatures that has brought her out into the open. She could smell the dusty scent of the grass, the fading aroma of the late lilies, the wind swirling gently around her feathers. She permitted me to touch her--one gentle stroke across her little back, then cocked her head and glanced over her shoulder with a quiet chirp.
Then she pushed off from the plastic container and rose into the sky. She didn't hover; she fled to the safety of the nearby woods, probably to check on her growing young ones.
An hour later, she visted our feeder again. She hovered near us, looking at us both, then perched on the little yellow flowers of the hummingbird feeder and drank her fill.
We saved a hummingbird today. What a great karmic experience! But, in the end, I realized that in some way Emily had given us a precious gift. For a few quiet moments, we earned this tiny creature's trust. And then she rose back onto the skies, and we knew that our efforts had been rewarded. She would live, and thrive, in the environment she was meant to enjoy.
And on one hot August day, we would live and thrive in the knowledge that we had done some good for the earth she lived on. It was a great feeling.
So...we drank vodka to celebrate.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Full Moon & Japanese Game Shows
So it's a full moon tonight.
I love writing when the moon is full. For some reason, it makes me feel like it. I can take my laptop outside and sit on the deck, watching the moon turn the woods into silver threads against the horizon and always--always--a new story nudges its way into my brain.
Probably not tonight though.
I think I have lost ten IQ points inthe last hour. Why, oh why, did I let my husband convince me to watch "I Survived A Japanese Game Show???" Holy crap--it just makes me cringe to see these people making fools of themselves like that. Tonight they played a game called "Big Chicken Butt Scramble."
How do you look at yourselves in the morning after LOSING a game called that?
"Big Chicken Butt Scramble." Somewhere over in Japan, World War II vets are sitting together pissed off.
"We lost to people like that?"
Yeah, hate to admit it to you, but--you did. Your bad.
I just don't get this new urge for self-humiliation, for public spectacle, and for lubing yourself down with oil, rolling in feathers, and then trying to sit on big balloons to burst the egg filling out of them! And on top of it, these people are taking this 'game' seriously!
The $250,000 prize money probably has something to do with it.
*sigh* I guess I'll never be able to survive a Japanese game show. Unfortunately, neither will my Muse--at least not tonight.
I love writing when the moon is full. For some reason, it makes me feel like it. I can take my laptop outside and sit on the deck, watching the moon turn the woods into silver threads against the horizon and always--always--a new story nudges its way into my brain.
Probably not tonight though.
I think I have lost ten IQ points inthe last hour. Why, oh why, did I let my husband convince me to watch "I Survived A Japanese Game Show???" Holy crap--it just makes me cringe to see these people making fools of themselves like that. Tonight they played a game called "Big Chicken Butt Scramble."
How do you look at yourselves in the morning after LOSING a game called that?
"Big Chicken Butt Scramble." Somewhere over in Japan, World War II vets are sitting together pissed off.
"We lost to people like that?"
Yeah, hate to admit it to you, but--you did. Your bad.
I just don't get this new urge for self-humiliation, for public spectacle, and for lubing yourself down with oil, rolling in feathers, and then trying to sit on big balloons to burst the egg filling out of them! And on top of it, these people are taking this 'game' seriously!
The $250,000 prize money probably has something to do with it.
*sigh* I guess I'll never be able to survive a Japanese game show. Unfortunately, neither will my Muse--at least not tonight.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
The Great Hummingbird War of Hocking County
We've been housesitting for my inlaws, who have been at their youngest daughter's wedding in Wyoming. During the time I've been here, I've witnessed some extraordinary things.
For example, the hummingbird wars.
My inlaws live out in the country--just on the edge of Wayne National Forest and Hocking Hills. At the back of their two acres, the trees grow fast and thick and the hills rise up to give me a poignant reminder of the foothills of the Smokies a couple of states south in Tennessee. There is a weathered back deck, surrounded by lilies and flowering shrubs, a gigantic willow tree and a plethora of smaller plants--in other words, bee heaven. They also have a pretty good sized hummingbird feeder with a colony of fifteen to twenty hummingbirds who feed at it daily.
Hummingbirds are highly strategic creatures. Ignore the impossible speed of their little wings whirring, forget about the flash of ruby at the breasts of the males and the tiny inquisitiveness of the smaller females.
THE FEEDER BELONGS TO ME seems to be the mantra they all chirp to themselves as they perch upon strategic locations and guard their personal feeder from the rest of the colony. Just now, as I was sitting outside with a cigarette while listening to my daughter's woes on the cell, I watched as a great battle unfolded before me.
To the west: perched upon the wire fence sat a tiny female. She's the one that yells at us if we get too close to the feeder. To the south: a larger male eyed me from his flamboyantly defiant seat on a shrub just below the wire fence. He's closest to the feeder and he knows it. Atop the willow tree to the southeast, a second male yells a challenge. He's been fighting the first male for girls and sugar water since the hummingbirds returned. I can't see him, but I recognize his voice. Full east, another female hides behind the waving leaves of an azalea bush. She insinuates herself into the branches, hoping for a go at the feeder while the others scream insults at each other.
Suddenly, over my head there's the loud buzz of a divebombing hummingbird. She's come over the top of the house and slides into the northern-most feeding station for a quick stolen bite. Immediately the two males dart towards the feeder, but they encounter each other in midair and fly off the the field to continue their private feud. The female on the western side of the fence cries out and attacks the newcomer, wings beating at her foe's head. As the two females chase each other through the yard, the female hidden in the azalea flies in a liesurely fashion to the deck, eyes me with just a hint of friendly curiosity, and slakes her thirst calmly at the feeder. Her enemies remain out of sight, unaware that the victor has already taken the field.
Full, she flits up to the patio table where I sit under a large umbrella. I lift my hand slowly and just for a split-second, I feel the whispered touch of her claws on my outstretched finger. The next thing I know, she's gone--back to her nest made of spiderwebs in the ridge of oak trees a half-mile away--while I watch her flight and smile.
Round one: to the little hummingbird female I call Emily.
Round two: probably in about fifteen minutes.
For example, the hummingbird wars.
My inlaws live out in the country--just on the edge of Wayne National Forest and Hocking Hills. At the back of their two acres, the trees grow fast and thick and the hills rise up to give me a poignant reminder of the foothills of the Smokies a couple of states south in Tennessee. There is a weathered back deck, surrounded by lilies and flowering shrubs, a gigantic willow tree and a plethora of smaller plants--in other words, bee heaven. They also have a pretty good sized hummingbird feeder with a colony of fifteen to twenty hummingbirds who feed at it daily.
Hummingbirds are highly strategic creatures. Ignore the impossible speed of their little wings whirring, forget about the flash of ruby at the breasts of the males and the tiny inquisitiveness of the smaller females.
THE FEEDER BELONGS TO ME seems to be the mantra they all chirp to themselves as they perch upon strategic locations and guard their personal feeder from the rest of the colony. Just now, as I was sitting outside with a cigarette while listening to my daughter's woes on the cell, I watched as a great battle unfolded before me.
To the west: perched upon the wire fence sat a tiny female. She's the one that yells at us if we get too close to the feeder. To the south: a larger male eyed me from his flamboyantly defiant seat on a shrub just below the wire fence. He's closest to the feeder and he knows it. Atop the willow tree to the southeast, a second male yells a challenge. He's been fighting the first male for girls and sugar water since the hummingbirds returned. I can't see him, but I recognize his voice. Full east, another female hides behind the waving leaves of an azalea bush. She insinuates herself into the branches, hoping for a go at the feeder while the others scream insults at each other.
Suddenly, over my head there's the loud buzz of a divebombing hummingbird. She's come over the top of the house and slides into the northern-most feeding station for a quick stolen bite. Immediately the two males dart towards the feeder, but they encounter each other in midair and fly off the the field to continue their private feud. The female on the western side of the fence cries out and attacks the newcomer, wings beating at her foe's head. As the two females chase each other through the yard, the female hidden in the azalea flies in a liesurely fashion to the deck, eyes me with just a hint of friendly curiosity, and slakes her thirst calmly at the feeder. Her enemies remain out of sight, unaware that the victor has already taken the field.
Full, she flits up to the patio table where I sit under a large umbrella. I lift my hand slowly and just for a split-second, I feel the whispered touch of her claws on my outstretched finger. The next thing I know, she's gone--back to her nest made of spiderwebs in the ridge of oak trees a half-mile away--while I watch her flight and smile.
Round one: to the little hummingbird female I call Emily.
Round two: probably in about fifteen minutes.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Redemption Doing Well...Or Is It?
Occasionally I find myself, much like Piers Anthony, living in conjunction with my book subjects. The Gift of Redemption is about one individual giving up everything in order to redeem a society. In my world, it's about one individual giving up a lot so that others can have what they crave.
For example...
Lately, my husband and I have been feeling a financial crunch--much like the rest of you. Ours is due to a combination of things--my back, my daughter, OPEC--just to name a few.
My back has now (again) made it impossible for me to work in the 'real world.' So, I've increased my work in writing and editing and have become a stay-at-home writer. So, my husband has to take up the slack. He's working more hours, losing the time to do the things he loves, and has nothing left over for what he wants to do. In other words, his gift to the family is to redeem me for my lack of steady financial input.
It's hard to watch. It's harder to agree to, knowing that I haven't 'hit it big' yet and that all of the responsibility lies upon him. I can do my part (like submitting short stories and hoping for the best) but in the long run, unless I get an agent and my book goes to auction, this burden will be on him for a long time.
And I'm not even thinking about the back surgery that's looming in the near future either.
Sacrifices. Everything these days seems to be about sacrifices, just like in Redemption. That worries me.
Book 3 is called Temptation of Asphodel.
Oh dear.
For example...
Lately, my husband and I have been feeling a financial crunch--much like the rest of you. Ours is due to a combination of things--my back, my daughter, OPEC--just to name a few.
My back has now (again) made it impossible for me to work in the 'real world.' So, I've increased my work in writing and editing and have become a stay-at-home writer. So, my husband has to take up the slack. He's working more hours, losing the time to do the things he loves, and has nothing left over for what he wants to do. In other words, his gift to the family is to redeem me for my lack of steady financial input.
It's hard to watch. It's harder to agree to, knowing that I haven't 'hit it big' yet and that all of the responsibility lies upon him. I can do my part (like submitting short stories and hoping for the best) but in the long run, unless I get an agent and my book goes to auction, this burden will be on him for a long time.
And I'm not even thinking about the back surgery that's looming in the near future either.
Sacrifices. Everything these days seems to be about sacrifices, just like in Redemption. That worries me.
Book 3 is called Temptation of Asphodel.
Oh dear.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
News and More News
Yeah, yeah yeah I know. I'll TRY to do better. I just thought I'd let you all know that The Gift of Redemption is at # 39 on the Fictionwise Fantasy Bestseller list!
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
Yep. Just a little excited. It may be my imagination, and I'll check here in a bit, but it seems to be moving up the list quicker than Asphodel did. Two weeks from release at Fictionwise to #39 sounds FINE to me, though. I'd be dancing but...and here's the more news...I'm couch-bound until the middle of July.
*sigh*
More writing time though. And that's a good thing.
I find that I'm enjoying my writing time more and more. Although I still faithfully tackle my world-building and editing/rewriting chores every day, those hours when I concentrate on continuing a story have been just rolling along. Remind me soon to update my projects list--there's a hell of a lot going on that I haven't shared with you guys yet. There are a couple of new stories ongoing that I think you might be interested in.
I also submitted a few short stories this week, and have sent other numerous review requests to new venues so we'll see what happens.
Overall, a happy day. :)
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
Yep. Just a little excited. It may be my imagination, and I'll check here in a bit, but it seems to be moving up the list quicker than Asphodel did. Two weeks from release at Fictionwise to #39 sounds FINE to me, though. I'd be dancing but...and here's the more news...I'm couch-bound until the middle of July.
*sigh*
More writing time though. And that's a good thing.
I find that I'm enjoying my writing time more and more. Although I still faithfully tackle my world-building and editing/rewriting chores every day, those hours when I concentrate on continuing a story have been just rolling along. Remind me soon to update my projects list--there's a hell of a lot going on that I haven't shared with you guys yet. There are a couple of new stories ongoing that I think you might be interested in.
I also submitted a few short stories this week, and have sent other numerous review requests to new venues so we'll see what happens.
Overall, a happy day. :)
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
OK, So I don't update my blog enough...
...or so I'm told. Apparently, BUSY does not count. hmmph. So, I'll just update you guys for a bit.
The Gift of Redemption is now available on Fictionwise and Mobipocket. It seems to be doing well on Fictionwise, where it's been available for a few days now. It just came out today on Mobipocket.
I'm particularly interested in how it does on Fictionwise, since The Reckoning of Asphodel hit number one on its Fantasy Bestseller list and the top ten on the overall Bestseller list. It would be nice if Redemption could follow in Asphodel's footsteps.
A little birdie told me that Reckoning's first review from a major review site will be out within the month. This is sort of scary for me. I'm still obsessed over some horrifying questions: What if it isn't as good as Asphodel? What if people hate it? What if a few directions that the storyline takes really turns my readers off? Will I live? Could I survive that?
I guess I'll know pretty soon. *shudders* Hope my blood pressure survives it.
Right now I'm doing some beta reading for some friends and surveying the wreck of my study with satisfaction. As you probably remember, when I'm plotting a new world and the story that goes in it, I literally paper my study with worldbuilding charts and plot continuity lines with long rolls of butcher paper. And there it will hang, a daily prod to hurry up and finish what I'm working on so that I can get to the project that is stewing deliciously along my walls. This project has migrated onto the ceiling; when I look to the heavens for divine inspiration, I'll find a chart labelled *Events that need to happen before Armageddon.* This makes me write faster.
It's like a hambone in front of a hungry pit bull.
I reckon I have a few more days' work to put in on the current project (final draft of Terella, then off she goes into query land) and then I can sink my teeth into the juicy world that swims along the edges of my vision in this room.
*Events that need to happen before Armageddon*---Big red letters, long long list. Looks like at least a trilogy from where I'm sitting. Just as an FYI, 'armageddon' is just my brainstorming catchphrase for how the plot culminates--it has nothing to do with angels or Satan or the end of the world or anything like that. I call all the ends of my storylines 'armageddon' just so I know that it's the absolute end of this plot.
The Gift of Redemption is now available on Fictionwise and Mobipocket. It seems to be doing well on Fictionwise, where it's been available for a few days now. It just came out today on Mobipocket.
I'm particularly interested in how it does on Fictionwise, since The Reckoning of Asphodel hit number one on its Fantasy Bestseller list and the top ten on the overall Bestseller list. It would be nice if Redemption could follow in Asphodel's footsteps.
A little birdie told me that Reckoning's first review from a major review site will be out within the month. This is sort of scary for me. I'm still obsessed over some horrifying questions: What if it isn't as good as Asphodel? What if people hate it? What if a few directions that the storyline takes really turns my readers off? Will I live? Could I survive that?
I guess I'll know pretty soon. *shudders* Hope my blood pressure survives it.
Right now I'm doing some beta reading for some friends and surveying the wreck of my study with satisfaction. As you probably remember, when I'm plotting a new world and the story that goes in it, I literally paper my study with worldbuilding charts and plot continuity lines with long rolls of butcher paper. And there it will hang, a daily prod to hurry up and finish what I'm working on so that I can get to the project that is stewing deliciously along my walls. This project has migrated onto the ceiling; when I look to the heavens for divine inspiration, I'll find a chart labelled *Events that need to happen before Armageddon.* This makes me write faster.
It's like a hambone in front of a hungry pit bull.
I reckon I have a few more days' work to put in on the current project (final draft of Terella, then off she goes into query land) and then I can sink my teeth into the juicy world that swims along the edges of my vision in this room.
*Events that need to happen before Armageddon*---Big red letters, long long list. Looks like at least a trilogy from where I'm sitting. Just as an FYI, 'armageddon' is just my brainstorming catchphrase for how the plot culminates--it has nothing to do with angels or Satan or the end of the world or anything like that. I call all the ends of my storylines 'armageddon' just so I know that it's the absolute end of this plot.
*grin*
So don't get too excited.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
So It's Out
The Gift of Redemption was released on Friday. I did my all-day release party on Friday and I'm still trying to recover from it (and the thirteen hours at work yesterday.) I actually had a cool little interview in the local paper yesterday (so glad they noticed me finally!) and I had several people oming into the bar saying, "Hey! Yer a cee-lebrit-ee now!" All of my Saturday Morning Regulars were pleased as punch--which I thought was pretty cool.
And now I'm going to try to focus my eyes enough to send out some review copies so I can concentrate on finding the floor of my house again. *rolls eyes* I know it's there SOMEWHERE--but alas! When Mom is stuck for two weeks getting a book release ready (hence the overwhelming eye strain) everyone else takes a vacation too.
I'll find it. I promise.
Stay tuned for further updates on Reckoning and how it progresses. And thanks to all of you for keeping an eye on how it goes.
By the way, the winner of my super-duper fabulous BIGGEST CONTEST EVER--is Sophie Weresley! Congrtulations, Lil Squick! And NO you cannot publish the Asphodel backstory file as a companion piece. Geesch--kids this days!
Hope you enjoy it!
And now I'm going to try to focus my eyes enough to send out some review copies so I can concentrate on finding the floor of my house again. *rolls eyes* I know it's there SOMEWHERE--but alas! When Mom is stuck for two weeks getting a book release ready (hence the overwhelming eye strain) everyone else takes a vacation too.
I'll find it. I promise.
Stay tuned for further updates on Reckoning and how it progresses. And thanks to all of you for keeping an eye on how it goes.
By the way, the winner of my super-duper fabulous BIGGEST CONTEST EVER--is Sophie Weresley! Congrtulations, Lil Squick! And NO you cannot publish the Asphodel backstory file as a companion piece. Geesch--kids this days!
Hope you enjoy it!
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Wow. Look at that countdown clock run. When I started this blog post, it was 4 hours and 47 minutes until The Gift of Redemption is released.
Wow. Just wow.
I'm excited. I'm getting things ready for my release party tomorrow and sending out a slew of press releases and all that what not. My local paper interviewed me this week, so THAT was fun. I made it onto Raine Delight's author spotlight--check it out here!
That was also fun.
My very good friend who is also a writer, Sierra Dafoe, is coming to visit this weekend, so THAT'S good.
I'm having a very good day. Of course, my eyes are burning and crossed after working through the nights the past three days, but I feel good about the work I've done. In celebration, I'm taking a weekend off from the writing desk just so I can revel in the the fact that another book is hitting the market in the morning.
I might also pray a little that it's as well-received as The Reckoning of Asphodel was. Here's hoping.
You guys enjoy!
TR
Wow. Just wow.
I'm excited. I'm getting things ready for my release party tomorrow and sending out a slew of press releases and all that what not. My local paper interviewed me this week, so THAT was fun. I made it onto Raine Delight's author spotlight--check it out here!
That was also fun.
My very good friend who is also a writer, Sierra Dafoe, is coming to visit this weekend, so THAT'S good.
I'm having a very good day. Of course, my eyes are burning and crossed after working through the nights the past three days, but I feel good about the work I've done. In celebration, I'm taking a weekend off from the writing desk just so I can revel in the the fact that another book is hitting the market in the morning.
I might also pray a little that it's as well-received as The Reckoning of Asphodel was. Here's hoping.
You guys enjoy!
TR
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Perspective From the Pen of a Babe
But let's not talk about that. You can go check it out at http://redfencer.livejournal.com/ if you want to read it. The very nice young lady who reviewed it has a new and very neat blog, and she's already done a spotlight post on Authorscoop which is a great site for book reviews and commentary done by my good friends William Haskins and Jamie Mason. (Man are they quick at cranking out reviews! ) So check out Scribbling, the blog that reviewed Asphodel, and check out Authorscoop just for an informative and very intellectual look at writing by writers.
And let's talk about something completely different.
The young lady who reviewed me on Scribbling is the mother of 4 children--which totally made me sick with jealousy when I saw her picture, by the way. She's a wife and mother, a writer who once served our country in the Navy, and who's probably too smart for her own good half the time.
In other words, a role model.
What makes her a role model? One of her sons was diagnosed with clasic autism just before his third birthday. Another, they suspect, suffers from Asperger's Disorder, which is also Pervasive Developmental Disorder ("PDD") -- like autism but , according to Aspergers.com:
They don't have their son covered by their insurance policy because it is 'chronic and non-treatable.' They don't have their son in the nearby Center for Autism Behavorial Disorders at the Munroe-Meyer Institute--because it would cost them thousands upon thousands of dollars out of pocket. They don't have any assistance from any medical foundations or charitable institutions--not even the major autism charities.
As she told me in a conversation: "Doctors don't understand this. I probably know more about it than a GP does."
And through all of this, she managed to find the time not only to read my book but to review it? To encourage her son who may have Asperger's to write (the most ADORABLE little picture book about dinosaurs!) and then post it on a writers' forum for review. Not only did he take the crits, he thought about them and posted his replies. Here's his response to my critique of his story:
This is a reaction to a CRITIQUE. I couldn't expect that much courtesy and enthusiasm from the critique of a 50 year old writer.
You know what this tells me? It tells me that this is an extraordinary woman, a woman who writes (extremely well, by the way) and raises four active sons. A woman who contributes in such a way to her sons' development and comfort that a boy that most other adults would call 'handicapped' had the werewithal to not only write and draw a children's picture book, but also to write such a well-mannered, thoughtful reply. A woman who, besides her husband and family, gets little to no help from anyone as she struggles with the difficulties of an autistic child.
My friend.
The next time you feel sorry for yourself, take a minute to check out these sites:
OASIS--http://www.aspergersyndrome.org/frame2.html
Autism Speaks--http://www.autismspeaks.org/
Dr. Stanley Greenspan, developer of one of the most promising behavorial therapies for people with autism -- http://www.stanleygreenspan.com/
and learn something about the world of PDDs. And if you have a moment, stop to consider this mother and how her guidance has given this world an absolutely beautiful talented son.
And maybe, just maybe, you'll feel the same way I do about it.
And let's talk about something completely different.
The young lady who reviewed me on Scribbling is the mother of 4 children--which totally made me sick with jealousy when I saw her picture, by the way. She's a wife and mother, a writer who once served our country in the Navy, and who's probably too smart for her own good half the time.
In other words, a role model.
What makes her a role model? One of her sons was diagnosed with clasic autism just before his third birthday. Another, they suspect, suffers from Asperger's Disorder, which is also Pervasive Developmental Disorder ("PDD") -- like autism but , according to Aspergers.com:
In Asperger's Disorder, affected individuals are characterized by social
isolation and eccentric behavior in childhood. There are impairments in
two-sided social interaction and non-verbal communication. Though grammatical,
their speech may sound peculiar due to abnormalities of inflection and a
repetitive pattern. Clumsiness may be prominent both in their articulation and
gross motor behavior. They usually have a circumscribed area of interest which
usually leaves no space for more age appropriate, common interests.
By the way, I'm not forgetting the dad in this family. He works his ASS off and attends school at the same time.
When I first heard her story, I was flabbergasted. She and her husband have four small children in their home--which is enough of a strain--and, even more astounding-they are doing everything ON THEIR OWN. Of course, the local school system helps as best they can, and they do have their autistic son on Medicaid which helps with health care and pharmaceutical costs...but let me tell you what they don't have.
They don't have their son covered by their insurance policy because it is 'chronic and non-treatable.' They don't have their son in the nearby Center for Autism Behavorial Disorders at the Munroe-Meyer Institute--because it would cost them thousands upon thousands of dollars out of pocket. They don't have any assistance from any medical foundations or charitable institutions--not even the major autism charities.
As she told me in a conversation: "Doctors don't understand this. I probably know more about it than a GP does."
And through all of this, she managed to find the time not only to read my book but to review it? To encourage her son who may have Asperger's to write (the most ADORABLE little picture book about dinosaurs!) and then post it on a writers' forum for review. Not only did he take the crits, he thought about them and posted his replies. Here's his response to my critique of his story:
Thank you, Miss Celina!I will write more about the fights. I will draw more
pictures, too. I think that is a good idea!Thank you for saying much nice things
about my book and me! DinoBoy
This is a reaction to a CRITIQUE. I couldn't expect that much courtesy and enthusiasm from the critique of a 50 year old writer.
You know what this tells me? It tells me that this is an extraordinary woman, a woman who writes (extremely well, by the way) and raises four active sons. A woman who contributes in such a way to her sons' development and comfort that a boy that most other adults would call 'handicapped' had the werewithal to not only write and draw a children's picture book, but also to write such a well-mannered, thoughtful reply. A woman who, besides her husband and family, gets little to no help from anyone as she struggles with the difficulties of an autistic child.
My friend.
The next time you feel sorry for yourself, take a minute to check out these sites:
OASIS--http://www.aspergersyndrome.org/frame2.html
Autism Speaks--http://www.autismspeaks.org/
Dr. Stanley Greenspan, developer of one of the most promising behavorial therapies for people with autism -- http://www.stanleygreenspan.com/
and learn something about the world of PDDs. And if you have a moment, stop to consider this mother and how her guidance has given this world an absolutely beautiful talented son.
And maybe, just maybe, you'll feel the same way I do about it.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Getting close...
What a week!
Getting ready for Redemption's release has worn me out completely. I've been putting the finishing touches on a book trailer, showing up at chats, sending out press releases, stomping ye olde forums with blurbs--and trying come up with everything I can for a viral publicity campaign.
Having a promotion budget of *zilch* sucks. Getting the youngest into nursing school is the financial priority in our house at the moment.
At any rate, besides that I've really gotten going on Terella hardcore this week. The story has taken over, again, and since I'm rewriting the monster from scratch I was a little surprised that it's rampaging across my desk like a rabid wildebeast. I'm trying to keep up with it but *whine* it's too fast for me! I still have the gut feeling that this may be my opus magnum to date. It's definitely taken on a literary voice that my previous fantasy works haven't had.
And Aleira is such a cool character. It's hard to make her into what I intend for her to be, but she seems to have a few ideas of her own at this point. Once I have this rewritten, a couple of hard line edits and it should be ready to query.
My goal is for October.
Which, will be just in time to do line edits on Asphodel 3 and get ready for its release--hopefully by Christmas.
We can hope.
You guys have a great weekend--I'm sure that you'll be hearing lots from me over the next couple of weeks so be prepared for the Gift of Redemption blog blitz!
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