If you are at all familiar with the Myers Briggs Personality Type, then you know that, according to the theory, all people fall into one of sixteen personality type. I am proud to say that I am an ENFP. Say it with me… E… N… F… P. I love being this personality type. We love people and we love ideas, as long as we aren’t expected to focus on the details. In short, we are horrible writers! Sitting alone with a computer is a challenge… thank goodness we have out characters to keep us company. We love an idea of a book and get started, only to find the pull of another story catching our attention. (And of course by “our” and “we” I mean “I”.) But here’s the problem with me being me. When I have been focused on one project for a long time, I tend to get distracted by… um… anything else. I once read a list of bumper sticker slogans for the different MBPTs and the ENFP goes something like, “Yeah, I can get that to you… oh my, what a pretty bird… anyways, what were we talking about?”
Why am I rambling about my personality type? I have this new book… the beginning of a new series, and while it’s still YA, it’s a total departure from The Partizans. It’s kind of a thriller/pre-dystopian plot, and I am totally obsessed with the structure of it right now. I think it may have more to do with the fact that working on my query letter and writing my synopsis is more about the technical side of getting published and less about hanging out with my characters. It’s taking all kinds of control to attempt to stay focused on finishing up all the loose ends of the book and getting it ready to go out to agents. I keep wanting to just send it out so I can say I did it and move on to the next project. I suppose this is good training. Once I get an agent and eventually a contract, I will have to stay focused regardless of my personality tendencies. After all, I don’t think a publisher or agent would accept the “My ENFP made me do it” excuse.
You know the old saying, “What doesn’t kill us will make us stronger?” Yeah… I think, when I get through all the crossing “I”s and dotting “t”s, that I will be able to lift poor plot structure from the abyss and carry shallow characters to the point of redemption without breaking a sweat. Unless, of course, I see a pretty bird.
Happy Superbowl everyone!!! Be BOLD!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Sabotage
There is a saboteur at work today! I have taken a short break from working on my novel to accommodate for some life changes and now, as I return to work, I am left with a mind-numbing lack of motivation. I know what I need to do, but it’s like I have work block… much bigger than writer’s block. So, being who I am, I decided to try to figure out the root cause of why my get up and go is in the corner blowing strawberries and I have come up with one answer. Being a writer is hard. I’m not complaining. I’m just stating a fact. Coming up with an idea, for me, is easy. Creating back story is a breeze. Even sitting down and pounding out the first draft comes as naturally as breathing. And that is where it ends. From that point forward, being a writer is a labor of love. Stray but a little from your focus and you begin to wobble under the weight of it all. I’m bored with doing research on agents, though I know it’s important to ensure my chances of finding the right match. Editing has become a bad word around my house and forget about the word syn…syn… synopsis. (It took a lot of effort just to type the word.)
But here’s the thing. The difference between a published novelist and an unpublished writer is persistence. Pushing through the negative thoughts, the mental and physical fatigue, making time in an already hectic life to repay those who have offered crits, and making sure that no one gets left at school because I’m living in a writing bubble are just a few of the things a writer must deal with on a daily basis. And I wouldn’t change it for anything. I was born to write. I am destined to be published and I am blessed to have the support carry on.
So it’s time to call back the muse, fire up Pandora and pull that writer’s fedora tight to my head and be who I am meant to be. Saboteur be damned!
But here’s the thing. The difference between a published novelist and an unpublished writer is persistence. Pushing through the negative thoughts, the mental and physical fatigue, making time in an already hectic life to repay those who have offered crits, and making sure that no one gets left at school because I’m living in a writing bubble are just a few of the things a writer must deal with on a daily basis. And I wouldn’t change it for anything. I was born to write. I am destined to be published and I am blessed to have the support carry on.
So it’s time to call back the muse, fire up Pandora and pull that writer’s fedora tight to my head and be who I am meant to be. Saboteur be damned!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Chapter One Teaser
I swore I wasn't going to do this, but I'm caving. Here is the first chapter of my book, The Partizans. Please, please, please feel free to give feedback either on this post or on the facebook link! I hope you like meeting my people!
Sarah
Hannah Slaughtery knew she didn’t belong here. While other girls were joining sororities and going to parties, she had spent her first semester of college studying in her room. Alone. And while she was arguably one of the smartest students in the Bio-Chemistry program, she was sure the invitation to attend a leadership seminar sponsored by the mysterious Institute had been delivered by mistake. Still, here she sat, afraid to drive up to the foreboding gate that guarded her destination.
With a nervous sigh, Hannah examined her reflection in the visor mirror. She had never given her appearance much thought, but her fashionista roommate had insisted on giving her a make-over the first week of classes. She touched up the smudged eyeliner below her pool blue eyes and tucked her short, blonde hair behind her ears. Finally convinced this was as good as it was going to get, she snapped the cover shut and started the engine.
A key pad illuminated as she pulled her car into the private drive and she punched in the access code that had accompanied her invitation. The imposing barrier creaked open and she steered down a tranquil, tree lined road. Being inside the Institute presented a unique opportunity for Hannah. She’d heard rumors the fabled laboratory occasionally offered internships to top students in her department and she hoped her participation this week would increase her chances of being selected.
A security checkpoint with dark tinted windows appeared and a guard with a military haircut looked down at her through aviator sunglasses. “Good afternoon, Ms. Slaughtery. May I see your driver’s license and student ID?” he asked as he surveyed the back seat.
She fumbled for her wallet. “You know my name?”
He looked at her, amused. “The code alerted us to your arrival.”
“Oh, right.” Hannah handed over the cards, her face flush.
After a quick examination, the guard returned her information, along with a sleek phone and map and Hannah caught the faint scent of coconut coming from his hand. “Most carriers don’t have reception up here,” he explained. “You can use this to make calls. The route to Garrett Manor has been highlighted on your map. If you need assistance, dial star-nine-nine.”
Hannah thanked him before she asked, “Is anyone else here?”
“The first participant rolled in about fifteen minutes ago, but we expect the others shortly,” he answered and Hannah smiled, relieved not to be the first to arrive.
The winding road that led to Garrett Manor was flanked by hearty vegetation and thick trees that parted as her temporary home came into view. The tall columns and semicircular arches reminded her of early Renaissance architecture and as she drove through the stone entrance, she was surprised to discover the parking lot was actually a converted piazza, complete with a large marble fountain. Carvings of saints peered down at her from their protective niches. Clearly out of place in the rustic peaks of Colorado, the romantic imagery made her smile as she shoved the phone and map into her purse.
When she finally emerged, a grey-haired man in a black suit greeted her. “Welcome, Ms. Slaughtery. May I assist you with your bags?”
“That’s okay,” she stammered. “I can get them.” She yanked her suitcases and backpack from the trunk and added, “Call me Hannah.”
He nodded. “My name is William. Please, follow me to the lounge. You can leave your luggage in the foyer.”
Hannah scurried up the steps behind him. William’s quick gait took her by surprise and she was slightly winded by the time they reached the mahogany entry way. An arched door frame led to the lounge and the view from the tall windows took her breath away. While the clouds of the anticipated storm loomed in the distance, the last rays of sun cast a warm glow over the Rocky Mountains.
The sight added to the grandness of the room. A roaring blaze in the large fireplace complimented the deep red walls and black leather furniture giving the space regal elegance. A table, piled with food and drinks of every variety, was set up nearby. Another participant stood next to the buffet, an empty plate in his hand.
He was boyishly handsome with sandy blonde hair, and though his tanned face looked familiar, she knew they had never met. “Mr. McKenzie,” William called out and the man glanced up. His easy grin reached out to welcome Hannah and she couldn’t help but smile back. “I would like to introduce Ms. Slaughtery,” William continued. “She will also be taking part in the seminar.” With the brief introduction complete, William turned on his heel and left the room.
“Thanks, Billy,” the young man called as he walked toward Hannah, his faded blue eyes bright with laughter. “I bet, if you get a little drink in that guy, he’s a riot.” He extended his hand. “Rafeerty McKenzie, but everyone calls me Rafe.” Hannah shook his hand and managed to murmur her name. He gestured to the table. “That is a quality spread. You should try some.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied and sat down on a long couch near the fireplace.
“Suit yourself. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m starving.” After making his selection, Rafe joined her and skillfully balanced his overflowing plate of food. “So, what do you know about this seminar?” he asked.
“Nothing, really,” she admitted. “I have no idea why I was invited. I’m not exactly a social butterfly.”
“Social butterflies are overrated,” he muttered before he cleared his throat. “I thought it was some clerical error. In fact, I was going to skip it until my buddy got a new job and bailed on our kayaking trip. Didn’t you have plans for break?”
“My family normally leaves for vacation the day after Christmas,” Hannah replied. “Mom was less than thrilled when I told her I wanted to come here instead.”
“Where’d they go?” he asked between bites.
“Hiking through the Austrian Alps.”
He let out an appreciative whistle. “And you voluntarily chose to come here?”
“I’m guess I’m not real outdoorsy. I’m more of a nature girl.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I like being in nature. I just don’t want to hike, sail, ride, or bike through it like the rest of my family,” she explained.
“Do you get along with them?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re just different. I blame it on the fact I’m adopted,” she replied self-consciously.
“Well, their loss is our gain. Still, it sounds like a fun trip. Give me a campfire, some ice to climb, a little hypothermia and I’m in heaven.”
Hannah laughed. “Speaking of weather, I guess there’s a blizzard heading our way.”
“When isn’t there one?” Rafe continued a steady stream of chatter despite her silence. Without warning, his attention was drawn to something behind her and his mouth gaped open. Hannah turned to see what had distracted him and felt her stomach tighten.
Shayne Westmoreland’s long, lean physique lounged against the door. Everyone on campus knew Shayne, or at least knew to stay out of her way. In addition to being rich and beautiful, she had a reputation for using her sex appeal to get what she wanted. Her gaggle of friends secretly loathed her and her enemies probably ended up keeping Jimmy Hoffa company.
The way the vixen’s sharp violet eyes took in every detail of the room reminded Hannah of winged predators who appeared peaceful and bored until the moment came to swoop down and snatch up an unsuspecting rodent. The new arrival twirled her raven hair around her finger and zeroed in on Rafe. A slow, seductive smile spread across her sun-kissed face. “Why Rafe,” she said. “As I live and breathe. I never dreamed I’d find you here.” Her southern drawl clung to each syllable.
“Shayne.” His voice matched the hostility etched on his face. “I’m surprised you aren’t out buying a small island nation. You could have legions of loyal subjects to work your succubus magic on.”
The debutante’s eyes narrowed and any pretense of good will disappeared. “You know, I would think, after all this time, you would have recovered from our little tryst.”
“When your girlfriend cheats on you with a professor in order to pass a class, it leaves a lasting impression,” Rafe retorted.
Shayne rolled her eyes and turned to Hannah. “He’s exaggerating, of course. It was a grad student. Hi, I’m Shayne.” A territorial warning reverberated in her simple introduction. The light-hearted atmosphere was replaced with palpable tension until William reappeared escorting another student.
Even Hannah, who rarely ventured out of the library, knew Marcelo dela Cruz. Since his arrival at Sanguinity College, the Division II football team had become a conference powerhouse. The tall, broad shouldered Filipino moved toward the trio without waiting for an introduction. “How’s it going?” he asked, with a broad smile.
Shayne batted her eyes and linked arms with the football star. “I can’t believe our big man on campus would be relegated to a mid-break seminar with the commoners,” she gushed.
“I would hardly call you common, Shayne,” Marc laughed as he nodded to Rafe. When he saw Hannah, he detangled himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended his hand. “I’m Marc.”
She gingerly accepted his greeting and said, “I’m Hannah.” After a few awkward moments, he turned back to Rafe and Shayne and rubbed his hands together. “I hear there’s food around here.”
Rafe gestured to the buffet. “Help yourself. It should tide you over until dinner time.” On cue, Marc’s stomach growled and everyone except Hannah erupted in laughter.
“I doubt that,” the football player replied with a chuckle.
Marc and Shayne walked away to survey the array of food and Rafe moved next to Hannah. “Sorry about her,” he offered through clenched teeth. “Long story.”
Hannah nodded sympathetically and changed the subject. “How do you know Marc?”
“We were roommates freshman year. We get along okay now, but back then,” his voice trailed off.
“Too much ego?” she teased.
“Maybe,” Rafe admitted. “He’s a good guy, just a little too intense.”
Hannah nodded and looked at the darkening western sky. “I would hate to be stranded in the mountains tonight.”
“Billy-boy said there were five of us total, so I guess we’re waiting for one more.”
“One more what?” Marc asked, as he settled into the chair across from Hannah.
“Another participant,” Rafe answered.
The football star began to devour his food. “Yeah, what’s the deal with this seminar?” he asked. “I wasn’t going to come, but somehow I ended up three credits short for graduation. Unless I want to stick around this summer, which I don’t, this is my only option.”
“You’re getting credit for this?” Rafe asked in disbelief. “Must be nice to have friends in the athletic department.”
Marc shifted uncomfortably. “Technically, it’s an independent study. Before the end of the semester, I have to turn in a paper about my experience.”
“Dude,” Rafe said. “I was just messing with you. You’re the one who was always complaining about the fluff classes your teammates take to maintain their full-time status. Just wanted to make sure your morality compass was still pointing to righteous.”
“Any idea who our fifth is?” Shayne interjected. “I hope it’s a guy,”
“Watch out, world. Shayne’s on the prowl for another victim.” Rafe said under his breath.
For a moment, rage flickered across Shayne’s face. Instead of detracting from her looks, the reaction only served to intensify her beauty. “You really need to get over it. I did.”
“Obviously,” Rafe snorted.
As if sensing the impending conflict, William appeared and everyone turned to see the final member of their party. Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. There was sadness in the new arrival’s dark brown eyes and her initial instinct to look away was over-ridden by the intensity of the connection that surged between them.
“I would like to introduce Finn O’Connor,” the older man said, though his words sounded muffled to Hannah’s ears. “Now that everyone has arrived, I’ll show you to your rooms,” Someone will meet you in the common room of your living quarters in an hour. Dinner is served promptly at six. That should give you plenty of time to unpack your belongings.”
Unaccustomed to being kept out of the loop, Shayne moved close to their guide. “It seems this seminar is a bit of a mystery. Maybe you could give us a hint of what to expect.” Her voice was sugary sweet and yet, it had no effect on William.
With a stern face, he replied, “All your questions will be answered in time. For now, follow me.” From his steely response, even Shayne recognized it was a battle she wouldn’t win.
Rafe fell in step with Hannah and whispered, “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I saw a horror movie that started out like this.”
“Great,” Hannah whispered back. “The first person killed in a slasher flick is always a girl, and since it’s obvious Shayne is the killer, my moments are numbered.”
Rafe burst out laughing. “Look at you, getting your funny on. I think this may be the beginning,” he started.
“Don’t say it,” Hannah giggled.
Rafe grinned. “Of a beautiful friendship.”
“You really said it,” she groaned. Without warning, Finn pushed past them.
“Watch it,” Rafe said. “What’s his problem?”
Hannah shook her head in stunned silent. What Rafe had missed was the unprovoked look of jealousy on Finn’s face. A look directed at her.
Sarah
Chapter One
Hannah Slaughtery knew she didn’t belong here. While other girls were joining sororities and going to parties, she had spent her first semester of college studying in her room. Alone. And while she was arguably one of the smartest students in the Bio-Chemistry program, she was sure the invitation to attend a leadership seminar sponsored by the mysterious Institute had been delivered by mistake. Still, here she sat, afraid to drive up to the foreboding gate that guarded her destination.
With a nervous sigh, Hannah examined her reflection in the visor mirror. She had never given her appearance much thought, but her fashionista roommate had insisted on giving her a make-over the first week of classes. She touched up the smudged eyeliner below her pool blue eyes and tucked her short, blonde hair behind her ears. Finally convinced this was as good as it was going to get, she snapped the cover shut and started the engine.
A key pad illuminated as she pulled her car into the private drive and she punched in the access code that had accompanied her invitation. The imposing barrier creaked open and she steered down a tranquil, tree lined road. Being inside the Institute presented a unique opportunity for Hannah. She’d heard rumors the fabled laboratory occasionally offered internships to top students in her department and she hoped her participation this week would increase her chances of being selected.
A security checkpoint with dark tinted windows appeared and a guard with a military haircut looked down at her through aviator sunglasses. “Good afternoon, Ms. Slaughtery. May I see your driver’s license and student ID?” he asked as he surveyed the back seat.
She fumbled for her wallet. “You know my name?”
He looked at her, amused. “The code alerted us to your arrival.”
“Oh, right.” Hannah handed over the cards, her face flush.
After a quick examination, the guard returned her information, along with a sleek phone and map and Hannah caught the faint scent of coconut coming from his hand. “Most carriers don’t have reception up here,” he explained. “You can use this to make calls. The route to Garrett Manor has been highlighted on your map. If you need assistance, dial star-nine-nine.”
Hannah thanked him before she asked, “Is anyone else here?”
“The first participant rolled in about fifteen minutes ago, but we expect the others shortly,” he answered and Hannah smiled, relieved not to be the first to arrive.
The winding road that led to Garrett Manor was flanked by hearty vegetation and thick trees that parted as her temporary home came into view. The tall columns and semicircular arches reminded her of early Renaissance architecture and as she drove through the stone entrance, she was surprised to discover the parking lot was actually a converted piazza, complete with a large marble fountain. Carvings of saints peered down at her from their protective niches. Clearly out of place in the rustic peaks of Colorado, the romantic imagery made her smile as she shoved the phone and map into her purse.
When she finally emerged, a grey-haired man in a black suit greeted her. “Welcome, Ms. Slaughtery. May I assist you with your bags?”
“That’s okay,” she stammered. “I can get them.” She yanked her suitcases and backpack from the trunk and added, “Call me Hannah.”
He nodded. “My name is William. Please, follow me to the lounge. You can leave your luggage in the foyer.”
Hannah scurried up the steps behind him. William’s quick gait took her by surprise and she was slightly winded by the time they reached the mahogany entry way. An arched door frame led to the lounge and the view from the tall windows took her breath away. While the clouds of the anticipated storm loomed in the distance, the last rays of sun cast a warm glow over the Rocky Mountains.
The sight added to the grandness of the room. A roaring blaze in the large fireplace complimented the deep red walls and black leather furniture giving the space regal elegance. A table, piled with food and drinks of every variety, was set up nearby. Another participant stood next to the buffet, an empty plate in his hand.
He was boyishly handsome with sandy blonde hair, and though his tanned face looked familiar, she knew they had never met. “Mr. McKenzie,” William called out and the man glanced up. His easy grin reached out to welcome Hannah and she couldn’t help but smile back. “I would like to introduce Ms. Slaughtery,” William continued. “She will also be taking part in the seminar.” With the brief introduction complete, William turned on his heel and left the room.
“Thanks, Billy,” the young man called as he walked toward Hannah, his faded blue eyes bright with laughter. “I bet, if you get a little drink in that guy, he’s a riot.” He extended his hand. “Rafeerty McKenzie, but everyone calls me Rafe.” Hannah shook his hand and managed to murmur her name. He gestured to the table. “That is a quality spread. You should try some.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied and sat down on a long couch near the fireplace.
“Suit yourself. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m starving.” After making his selection, Rafe joined her and skillfully balanced his overflowing plate of food. “So, what do you know about this seminar?” he asked.
“Nothing, really,” she admitted. “I have no idea why I was invited. I’m not exactly a social butterfly.”
“Social butterflies are overrated,” he muttered before he cleared his throat. “I thought it was some clerical error. In fact, I was going to skip it until my buddy got a new job and bailed on our kayaking trip. Didn’t you have plans for break?”
“My family normally leaves for vacation the day after Christmas,” Hannah replied. “Mom was less than thrilled when I told her I wanted to come here instead.”
“Where’d they go?” he asked between bites.
“Hiking through the Austrian Alps.”
He let out an appreciative whistle. “And you voluntarily chose to come here?”
“I’m guess I’m not real outdoorsy. I’m more of a nature girl.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I like being in nature. I just don’t want to hike, sail, ride, or bike through it like the rest of my family,” she explained.
“Do you get along with them?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re just different. I blame it on the fact I’m adopted,” she replied self-consciously.
“Well, their loss is our gain. Still, it sounds like a fun trip. Give me a campfire, some ice to climb, a little hypothermia and I’m in heaven.”
Hannah laughed. “Speaking of weather, I guess there’s a blizzard heading our way.”
“When isn’t there one?” Rafe continued a steady stream of chatter despite her silence. Without warning, his attention was drawn to something behind her and his mouth gaped open. Hannah turned to see what had distracted him and felt her stomach tighten.
Shayne Westmoreland’s long, lean physique lounged against the door. Everyone on campus knew Shayne, or at least knew to stay out of her way. In addition to being rich and beautiful, she had a reputation for using her sex appeal to get what she wanted. Her gaggle of friends secretly loathed her and her enemies probably ended up keeping Jimmy Hoffa company.
The way the vixen’s sharp violet eyes took in every detail of the room reminded Hannah of winged predators who appeared peaceful and bored until the moment came to swoop down and snatch up an unsuspecting rodent. The new arrival twirled her raven hair around her finger and zeroed in on Rafe. A slow, seductive smile spread across her sun-kissed face. “Why Rafe,” she said. “As I live and breathe. I never dreamed I’d find you here.” Her southern drawl clung to each syllable.
“Shayne.” His voice matched the hostility etched on his face. “I’m surprised you aren’t out buying a small island nation. You could have legions of loyal subjects to work your succubus magic on.”
The debutante’s eyes narrowed and any pretense of good will disappeared. “You know, I would think, after all this time, you would have recovered from our little tryst.”
“When your girlfriend cheats on you with a professor in order to pass a class, it leaves a lasting impression,” Rafe retorted.
Shayne rolled her eyes and turned to Hannah. “He’s exaggerating, of course. It was a grad student. Hi, I’m Shayne.” A territorial warning reverberated in her simple introduction. The light-hearted atmosphere was replaced with palpable tension until William reappeared escorting another student.
Even Hannah, who rarely ventured out of the library, knew Marcelo dela Cruz. Since his arrival at Sanguinity College, the Division II football team had become a conference powerhouse. The tall, broad shouldered Filipino moved toward the trio without waiting for an introduction. “How’s it going?” he asked, with a broad smile.
Shayne batted her eyes and linked arms with the football star. “I can’t believe our big man on campus would be relegated to a mid-break seminar with the commoners,” she gushed.
“I would hardly call you common, Shayne,” Marc laughed as he nodded to Rafe. When he saw Hannah, he detangled himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended his hand. “I’m Marc.”
She gingerly accepted his greeting and said, “I’m Hannah.” After a few awkward moments, he turned back to Rafe and Shayne and rubbed his hands together. “I hear there’s food around here.”
Rafe gestured to the buffet. “Help yourself. It should tide you over until dinner time.” On cue, Marc’s stomach growled and everyone except Hannah erupted in laughter.
“I doubt that,” the football player replied with a chuckle.
Marc and Shayne walked away to survey the array of food and Rafe moved next to Hannah. “Sorry about her,” he offered through clenched teeth. “Long story.”
Hannah nodded sympathetically and changed the subject. “How do you know Marc?”
“We were roommates freshman year. We get along okay now, but back then,” his voice trailed off.
“Too much ego?” she teased.
“Maybe,” Rafe admitted. “He’s a good guy, just a little too intense.”
Hannah nodded and looked at the darkening western sky. “I would hate to be stranded in the mountains tonight.”
“Billy-boy said there were five of us total, so I guess we’re waiting for one more.”
“One more what?” Marc asked, as he settled into the chair across from Hannah.
“Another participant,” Rafe answered.
The football star began to devour his food. “Yeah, what’s the deal with this seminar?” he asked. “I wasn’t going to come, but somehow I ended up three credits short for graduation. Unless I want to stick around this summer, which I don’t, this is my only option.”
“You’re getting credit for this?” Rafe asked in disbelief. “Must be nice to have friends in the athletic department.”
Marc shifted uncomfortably. “Technically, it’s an independent study. Before the end of the semester, I have to turn in a paper about my experience.”
“Dude,” Rafe said. “I was just messing with you. You’re the one who was always complaining about the fluff classes your teammates take to maintain their full-time status. Just wanted to make sure your morality compass was still pointing to righteous.”
“Any idea who our fifth is?” Shayne interjected. “I hope it’s a guy,”
“Watch out, world. Shayne’s on the prowl for another victim.” Rafe said under his breath.
For a moment, rage flickered across Shayne’s face. Instead of detracting from her looks, the reaction only served to intensify her beauty. “You really need to get over it. I did.”
“Obviously,” Rafe snorted.
As if sensing the impending conflict, William appeared and everyone turned to see the final member of their party. Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. There was sadness in the new arrival’s dark brown eyes and her initial instinct to look away was over-ridden by the intensity of the connection that surged between them.
“I would like to introduce Finn O’Connor,” the older man said, though his words sounded muffled to Hannah’s ears. “Now that everyone has arrived, I’ll show you to your rooms,” Someone will meet you in the common room of your living quarters in an hour. Dinner is served promptly at six. That should give you plenty of time to unpack your belongings.”
Unaccustomed to being kept out of the loop, Shayne moved close to their guide. “It seems this seminar is a bit of a mystery. Maybe you could give us a hint of what to expect.” Her voice was sugary sweet and yet, it had no effect on William.
With a stern face, he replied, “All your questions will be answered in time. For now, follow me.” From his steely response, even Shayne recognized it was a battle she wouldn’t win.
Rafe fell in step with Hannah and whispered, “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I saw a horror movie that started out like this.”
“Great,” Hannah whispered back. “The first person killed in a slasher flick is always a girl, and since it’s obvious Shayne is the killer, my moments are numbered.”
Rafe burst out laughing. “Look at you, getting your funny on. I think this may be the beginning,” he started.
“Don’t say it,” Hannah giggled.
Rafe grinned. “Of a beautiful friendship.”
“You really said it,” she groaned. Without warning, Finn pushed past them.
“Watch it,” Rafe said. “What’s his problem?”
Hannah shook her head in stunned silent. What Rafe had missed was the unprovoked look of jealousy on Finn’s face. A look directed at her.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Revised Query Letter
Short and to the point. Feedback desired!
{Insert why I’m send query to this particular agent.}
At eighteen, Hannah Slaughtery hasn’t had time to do much with her life until, while attending an exclusive leadership seminar sponsored by the Institute, she discovers her role in a legacy with a twisted and bloody past. Hannah must decide whether to reject her calling or embrace her future and the consequences that come with her choice. Along the way, she will discover the missing pieces of her past and find that even in the face of death, there’s the chance for a silver lining.
Intended to be the first in a YA fantasy series, The Partizans can also stand alone at 72,000 words.
{Insert why I’m send query to this particular agent.}
At eighteen, Hannah Slaughtery hasn’t had time to do much with her life until, while attending an exclusive leadership seminar sponsored by the Institute, she discovers her role in a legacy with a twisted and bloody past. Hannah must decide whether to reject her calling or embrace her future and the consequences that come with her choice. Along the way, she will discover the missing pieces of her past and find that even in the face of death, there’s the chance for a silver lining.
Intended to be the first in a YA fantasy series, The Partizans can also stand alone at 72,000 words.
Writing Relief!
The final major revision is over and as I type this, I am printing off the copies for my beta readers! I can not express how good it feels to be able to sit down and read through my book without experiencing the urge to grab a red pen and start hacking away. Don't get me wrong... it's not perfect, but the errors and corrections are fewer and much farther between then ever. All in all, as a reader, I like my book.
Of course the process is far from over. In fact, writing the book (including the nine revisions) was probably easier than what comes next.
For those of you not familiar with the next phase of the publishing road, allow me to break it down for you!
First, once the book is "polished until it gleams", it's time to submit my query to the agents. Now, some people have asked why I don't want to self-publish. The truth is, in my humble opinion, it's too much work for not enough return. With self-publishing you are responsible for all the editing and the marketing. Sure, your royalties are a higher percentage, but I would rather have 10% of 1000 sold books than 40% of 100 books sold. Plus, once you get the second book done, you still have to do all the work on the publishing end. I prefer to go the traditional route because to me, I would rather focus on the art of writing rather than the marketing angle. That doesn't mean I won't have to work my butt off to get my name out there. But if I have a better product that's been edited by someone who knows the business, it'll be a lot easier to toot my own horn.
So back to the query process. All agents who accept unsolicited queries have one requirement in common: the dreaded query letter. This is your chance to sell your 70,00+ word novel in two or three short paragraphs. Seriously, it's the same thing as a cover letter to your resume. A lot of authors will tell you that writing this letter is a lot harder than writing the book itself. It is the make or break moment of the agent process.
As I mentioned, the query letter is the common denominator of all submissions. Sometimes the agent will request that you include a sampling of your book (ie. the first 3-5 pages or the first 1-3 chapters). It varies according to their prefernce. If they have requested a sample and are hooked by the query letter, they will check out the pages. If they like what they see, they'll request either a partial (normally first 50 pages) or a full (the entire novel), depending on their preference. If they haven't requested pages be included with the query but are hooked by the letter, they'll request a sample. (This could be a couple chapters or the first 50 pages, again, every agent is different.) If your sample captures them, they will request a full.
The challenge for the writer is to be able to handle whatever comes back in the email or the post. I say this because at any point in this process, the agent can send you a rejection. I've been assured by several agent that they have had to pass on books they really liked for a number of reasons. One, they didn't think they could sell it. Maybe they just sold something similar to a publishing house by one of their current clients. Maybe they see the trend leaning away from what you've written. Or they've recently signed enough new clients that they really don't have time to work with you. And then there's the obvious reason: they just weren't that into you.
Writing is really a career for those who thrive on internal verbal abuse. Seriously, I have a muse who is amazing. She's always there to help me work through the corners I back myself into and she's never one to judge when I have my characters act, well, out of character. But then there's her side kick. I like to call her Mistress Emotional Baggage (or MEB for short). She is the one who's walking right behind my muse dismissing everything I've just written. She is the one who pours salt on each rejection letter and cackles with glee when I question why I'm pursuing this path in the first time. I really hate her! I'm learning to tune her out better, now that the book is almost ready for the query process, but I believe it's only because she's hedging her bets about the rejection letters.
I know they're going to come. I'm going to get several...possibly within a couple of hours of sending them out. (The blessing of technology.) But this is the thing you (and I) have to remember. It only takes one yes... the right yes... to take you from being an unagented aspiring author to being an agented aspiring author... once I get an agent, I'll fill you in on the publishing side of seeing your book in print. Although I should mention, the time between signing the contract with a publishing house and seeing your book on Amazon or at Barnes and Noble is about 18 months, give our take... I could have a couple of kids in the time it will take my written baby to see the light of day. But that's the game. And honestly, I can't think of one I would rather play!
Hope the New Year has started off well and as always, BE BOLD!
Of course the process is far from over. In fact, writing the book (including the nine revisions) was probably easier than what comes next.
For those of you not familiar with the next phase of the publishing road, allow me to break it down for you!
First, once the book is "polished until it gleams", it's time to submit my query to the agents. Now, some people have asked why I don't want to self-publish. The truth is, in my humble opinion, it's too much work for not enough return. With self-publishing you are responsible for all the editing and the marketing. Sure, your royalties are a higher percentage, but I would rather have 10% of 1000 sold books than 40% of 100 books sold. Plus, once you get the second book done, you still have to do all the work on the publishing end. I prefer to go the traditional route because to me, I would rather focus on the art of writing rather than the marketing angle. That doesn't mean I won't have to work my butt off to get my name out there. But if I have a better product that's been edited by someone who knows the business, it'll be a lot easier to toot my own horn.
So back to the query process. All agents who accept unsolicited queries have one requirement in common: the dreaded query letter. This is your chance to sell your 70,00+ word novel in two or three short paragraphs. Seriously, it's the same thing as a cover letter to your resume. A lot of authors will tell you that writing this letter is a lot harder than writing the book itself. It is the make or break moment of the agent process.
As I mentioned, the query letter is the common denominator of all submissions. Sometimes the agent will request that you include a sampling of your book (ie. the first 3-5 pages or the first 1-3 chapters). It varies according to their prefernce. If they have requested a sample and are hooked by the query letter, they will check out the pages. If they like what they see, they'll request either a partial (normally first 50 pages) or a full (the entire novel), depending on their preference. If they haven't requested pages be included with the query but are hooked by the letter, they'll request a sample. (This could be a couple chapters or the first 50 pages, again, every agent is different.) If your sample captures them, they will request a full.
The challenge for the writer is to be able to handle whatever comes back in the email or the post. I say this because at any point in this process, the agent can send you a rejection. I've been assured by several agent that they have had to pass on books they really liked for a number of reasons. One, they didn't think they could sell it. Maybe they just sold something similar to a publishing house by one of their current clients. Maybe they see the trend leaning away from what you've written. Or they've recently signed enough new clients that they really don't have time to work with you. And then there's the obvious reason: they just weren't that into you.
Writing is really a career for those who thrive on internal verbal abuse. Seriously, I have a muse who is amazing. She's always there to help me work through the corners I back myself into and she's never one to judge when I have my characters act, well, out of character. But then there's her side kick. I like to call her Mistress Emotional Baggage (or MEB for short). She is the one who's walking right behind my muse dismissing everything I've just written. She is the one who pours salt on each rejection letter and cackles with glee when I question why I'm pursuing this path in the first time. I really hate her! I'm learning to tune her out better, now that the book is almost ready for the query process, but I believe it's only because she's hedging her bets about the rejection letters.
I know they're going to come. I'm going to get several...possibly within a couple of hours of sending them out. (The blessing of technology.) But this is the thing you (and I) have to remember. It only takes one yes... the right yes... to take you from being an unagented aspiring author to being an agented aspiring author... once I get an agent, I'll fill you in on the publishing side of seeing your book in print. Although I should mention, the time between signing the contract with a publishing house and seeing your book on Amazon or at Barnes and Noble is about 18 months, give our take... I could have a couple of kids in the time it will take my written baby to see the light of day. But that's the game. And honestly, I can't think of one I would rather play!
Hope the New Year has started off well and as always, BE BOLD!
Friday, December 31, 2010
It's the end of the year as we know it
Resolutions… this is the time of year when everyone wants to know what your intentions are for the coming year and every year, we oblige them by ticking off the stand bys… eat healthier, lose weight, spend less money, read the greatest novels of all time… perhaps that’s not a stand by for you, but it is for me.
This year, I’m taking a different approach. Instead we’re going with a theme: Family First. Yes, a cliché… how novel… but I figured something out. If I start to put the needs of my family before everything else, I will have the life I have been trying to get for years. I’m not talking a martyr thing were I give and give and then cry about how I do all the work. It’s the little things. Like making sure it’s quiet during the day so my night shift husband doesn’t make a mistake at work that could cost him his job or even worse… cost someone their lives. It’s making sure I go to the gym so the kids will have a mom who is healthy enough to yell at the refs when they make a bad call. It’s working on my book so that someday I can show my kids how following your passion can lead to a successful career. It’s about making sure not only I get to recharge my batteries with my friends, but that Louis does as well. It’s making sure that God is at the center of our home instead of a great uncle you see a couple times a month.
It’s about making the choice not to buy the toy because the kids need to understand they aren’t entitled to everything they want. It’s guarding our calendar so that everything that’s on the schedule is making us better as a unit.
Putting my family first will also remind me to savor the moments. Sure, they aren’t the Brady bunch or Cleaver family moments where everyone learns a valuable lesson… but when this life is over, it probably won’t be the iPads and remote control cars we hold on to. It will be the memory of playing cards against your mom on the iPads or racing against your dad with his old remote control car. It will be the moments in life that set our time on earth apart. Have more moments in 2011. And don’t forget to be bold.
This year, I’m taking a different approach. Instead we’re going with a theme: Family First. Yes, a cliché… how novel… but I figured something out. If I start to put the needs of my family before everything else, I will have the life I have been trying to get for years. I’m not talking a martyr thing were I give and give and then cry about how I do all the work. It’s the little things. Like making sure it’s quiet during the day so my night shift husband doesn’t make a mistake at work that could cost him his job or even worse… cost someone their lives. It’s making sure I go to the gym so the kids will have a mom who is healthy enough to yell at the refs when they make a bad call. It’s working on my book so that someday I can show my kids how following your passion can lead to a successful career. It’s about making sure not only I get to recharge my batteries with my friends, but that Louis does as well. It’s making sure that God is at the center of our home instead of a great uncle you see a couple times a month.
It’s about making the choice not to buy the toy because the kids need to understand they aren’t entitled to everything they want. It’s guarding our calendar so that everything that’s on the schedule is making us better as a unit.
Putting my family first will also remind me to savor the moments. Sure, they aren’t the Brady bunch or Cleaver family moments where everyone learns a valuable lesson… but when this life is over, it probably won’t be the iPads and remote control cars we hold on to. It will be the memory of playing cards against your mom on the iPads or racing against your dad with his old remote control car. It will be the moments in life that set our time on earth apart. Have more moments in 2011. And don’t forget to be bold.
Monday, December 20, 2010
End of the Year Cram Session
I've done it again.
This time last year I had planned to have my manuscript completed and ready to submit to agents. Luckily, I realized it wasn't ready. And so began another year of working on the book. But I have to be honest, it has been a roller coaster ride and right now, I am on the slow agonizing climb up that second time around. Getting motivated has been a problem. Not because I've lost my love of my characters or that writing has become a passing fancy. Quite the opposite. Life always has a way of creeping in!
I have become an instant gratification person. I want it now. But, as anyone in the writing business can attest... this is not how publishing happens, especially for an unagented, first time novelist in the YA genre where books about the supernatural are a dime a dozen. It moves slowly and patience and determination are a must.
Okay, I am patient. I am determined. I am much more patient than the three and five year olds who I have been blessed to raise, though they appear to have the upper hand on determination. Balancing life and writing is something that has been hard for me. I love my career, as unpaid as it might be. I love my children, as unpaid as being their mom might be. And sometimes, one must suffer for the other. There have been times where the writing has usurped time I would have normally spent with them, but lately, they have taken the reigns and my writing time has turned into wind down time. Hard to get the late night creative juices flowing when all you want to do is climb into bed with a glass of wine and watch mind-numbing movies to escape from the pile of dirty dishes still waiting for you in the sink.
The end of the year is approaching. I have 10 days until we ring in 2011. I have 10 chapters that need edits transcribed, and one last read through to catch all the minor changes that need to be made. I think I can do it. I can at least get the edits in before Christmas. But I hope the new year will bring with it wisdom to find balance in a life that is constantly demanding more and more. I hope the priorities that have been reshuffling themselves finally find a place where everything fits. And I hope that when I look back at 2011, I will be agonizing over edits to book number two while listening to my oldest read to my youngest and my husband snoozing quietly in the recliner. Sometimes the boldest thing to do is let go. So be bold, my friends, and if I haven't said it, Happy Holidays!
This time last year I had planned to have my manuscript completed and ready to submit to agents. Luckily, I realized it wasn't ready. And so began another year of working on the book. But I have to be honest, it has been a roller coaster ride and right now, I am on the slow agonizing climb up that second time around. Getting motivated has been a problem. Not because I've lost my love of my characters or that writing has become a passing fancy. Quite the opposite. Life always has a way of creeping in!
I have become an instant gratification person. I want it now. But, as anyone in the writing business can attest... this is not how publishing happens, especially for an unagented, first time novelist in the YA genre where books about the supernatural are a dime a dozen. It moves slowly and patience and determination are a must.
Okay, I am patient. I am determined. I am much more patient than the three and five year olds who I have been blessed to raise, though they appear to have the upper hand on determination. Balancing life and writing is something that has been hard for me. I love my career, as unpaid as it might be. I love my children, as unpaid as being their mom might be. And sometimes, one must suffer for the other. There have been times where the writing has usurped time I would have normally spent with them, but lately, they have taken the reigns and my writing time has turned into wind down time. Hard to get the late night creative juices flowing when all you want to do is climb into bed with a glass of wine and watch mind-numbing movies to escape from the pile of dirty dishes still waiting for you in the sink.
The end of the year is approaching. I have 10 days until we ring in 2011. I have 10 chapters that need edits transcribed, and one last read through to catch all the minor changes that need to be made. I think I can do it. I can at least get the edits in before Christmas. But I hope the new year will bring with it wisdom to find balance in a life that is constantly demanding more and more. I hope the priorities that have been reshuffling themselves finally find a place where everything fits. And I hope that when I look back at 2011, I will be agonizing over edits to book number two while listening to my oldest read to my youngest and my husband snoozing quietly in the recliner. Sometimes the boldest thing to do is let go. So be bold, my friends, and if I haven't said it, Happy Holidays!
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