My "Sunday book"

Like most writers (I suspect) I subscribe to several magazine on--writing. One is the Romance Writers Report from Romance Writers of America. Every month it is chock-full of articles on every aspect of writing. I usually sit down and read it cover to cover as soon as it arrives.

This month there was an article by Holly Jacobs entitled "Sunday Books." These are the books she writes on Sunday afternoons. The rest of the week is devoted to the books she has under contract or is editing. Books, she says "...with publisher/line's requirements and editorial requests in mind." She is a professional "nose-to-the-grindstone" writer.

But on Sunday afternoons she writes the book that doesn't meet any demands or requirements. She writes the book she has had in her head and wants to come out. Maybe it will find a home. Maybe it will stay under the bed with the dust bunnies. She doesn't care.

I recognized myself in the article. "A Question of Boundaries" is my Sunday afternoon book. I wrote it because it was fun. I enjoyed creating the characters and the crazy twists and turns of the plot. I loved giving ordinary people extraordinary powers.

I wasn't writing with the eye to getting it published, although I did send it out a few times. No one was more surprised and happy than I when my Sunday book found a  home at Astrea Press.

It is totally different from "Angels Unaware," "The Lunch Club, or "The Almost Bride." And yet it isn't. It's still about a woman discovering her own strengths and finding love along the way.

Click here to read an excerpt. I hope it intrigues you!

Never too much

Do you ever feel as if you've taken on just a wee bit too much?

I don't know how it happens, but periodically I look up and find I've committed far more time than I have to spare.

But it's all good. I'm not complaining. It's just that things seem to come in bunches. Like when you wish for rain during a dry spell, and then when it rains, it doesn't seem to stop. Rain every day.

Through it all, the workshops and conferences and meetings, and the push and pull of daily life, I've tried to find time for writing. I was five chapters into my next novel when I attended a master workshop last Saturday. Since then, I've been re-writing every page to reflect the things I learned.

It's been difficult and exhilarating, not unlike climbing a mountain. I can't say I've reached the top, only that I''m trying my best to get there.

I wonder if any writer just sits down and lets the words pour out. I suspect most of them, like me, struggle to put the wordflow into the best possible order, and that only after much rearranging and shuffling via "cut and paste." And lots of hitting the erase key.

I'm not wishing I hadn't signed up for all these workshops and conferences, because every one has taught me something new and added to my small store of skills.

So I guess I should confess although I may be overcommitted,  I'm not overwhelmed.

 I'm sitting here singing in the rain.

"A Question of Boundaries" finds a home at Astraea Press

Some of you who follow this blog may remember a story I wrote called "A Question of Boundaries." The heroine is Caroline Featherstone who is searching for her father, the inventor Gideon Featherstone, whom she fears has been kidnapped by scoundrels who want to get their hands on his latest invention.

The setting is an alternate history in which Thomas Jefferson accepted the crown and became ruler of the United States. It is true that it was offered to Gen. George Washington, who refused and subsequently became our first president. What is not as well known is that a secret committee traveled to Europe to offer the crown to Charles Edward Stuart (Bonnie Prince Charlie) then living in Florence, Italy. It is reported that he refused. This is an obscure historical fact, but you can look it up.

In the story, Caroline lives in an alternate world where the Jefferson Dynasty has ruled for nearly 100 years. The United States also cut itself off from contact from the rest of the world when threatened by a devastating plague that arose following the end of the War of 1812. A self-sufficient society, no one wants to re-open the borders and risk almost certain death.

There are some, however, including Nathan Llewellen, who believe the threat of plague disappeared decades earlier and want to open the borders to commerce and immigration (the labor force is getting decidedly sparse).

As Caroline and Nathan join forces, our plucky if naive heroine finds leaving her safe and boring home puts her in several dangerous situations. She also meets some strange allies and discovers that there is more to the world than she imagined.

I wrote this purely for fun, filling it with paranormal creatures and alternate worlds within an alternate world, along with some good old-fashioned fist-fights and subterfuge.

I sent it out a few times, but no one was interested. Then I received a rejection for a different story from Astraea Press. The editor asked if I had anything else to submit.

The only manuscript I had ready was "Boundaries." So I sent it in.

It was accepted. and, I might add, the acceptance letter languished in my SPAM mailbox until I decided to check it a week later.

I did a happy dance for the story I'd had so much fun writing. I hope others will place their tongues firmly in their cheeks and go along for the ride.

I'll let you know when it becomes available. Meanwhile, I am sending Caroline and Nathan to New Orleans, the capital of Floriana, where they are sussing out the political climate for King Thomas the Fourth.

And yes, Louisiana became a state in 1812 and the borders were closed in 1815. So how did Louisiana get on the wrong side of the border and why did it join forces with Florida?

That, I hope, will be in Book Two.

Meet Wendy Knight

Today I would like you to meet Wendy Knight. She is the author of a young adult urban fantasy series called Fate on Fire. The next book in the series, Spark of a Feudling, will be released tomorrow. The book also includes a bonus story in the back.

A little about Wendy:

     Wendy Knight is the bestselling author of the young adult series Fate on Fire and Riders of Paradesos. She was born and raised in Utah by a wonderful family who spoiled her rotten because she was the baby. Now she spends her time driving her husband crazy with her many eccentricities (no water after five, terror when faced with a live phone call, no touching the knives…you get the idea). She also enjoys chasing her three adorable kids, playing tennis, watching football, reading, and hiking. Camping is also big—her family is slowly working toward a goal of seeing all the National Parks in the U.S.

     You can usually find her with at least one Pepsi nearby, wearing ridiculously high heels for whatever the occasion. And if everything works out just right, she will also be writing.

Here the blurb:

     Hate can start a war, but a shattered heart can fuel it for centuries.

     Everything Ada does is wrong. She’s the daughter of a Duke but she isn’t proper or formal. She prefers the company of her servants—particularly Christian, the boy she’s loved since she was six years old, and his sister, Charity, Ada’s very best friend in the entire world.
     Ada isn’t just the daughter of a Duke. No, she’s the daughter of one of the most powerful Edren sorcerers alive, and no matter how strong she is, it isn’t strong enough. Ada will give up almost everything to earn her father’s pride.
     Christian has loved Ada since the day his mother became her governess. But two societies are determined to keep them apart—the aristocracy who say a groom will never be good enough for a Duke’s beautiful daughter, and the sorcerers who say a Carules and an Edren can never be together. Christian will do anything to make Ada his—even drive himself to madness.
     When Ada suspects her father of hurting Charity and Christian in his quest for knowledge, she is torn between loyalty to him, and a fierce determination to protect them. The division tears her soul and breaks her heart.
     The pieces of her broken heart will start a war that can only be stopped by the death of the most powerful warrior alive by the hand of the boy who loves her.

****

 **Bonus Story –Feudlings in Peace**Join  Ari, Shane, Ada, Christian 

and everyone they love as they chase their happily ever after.

Excerpt:

       He sprinted down the path, into the forest, leaping over huge rocks and tree roots and through streams he couldn’t see but his magic told him were there. He had no idea where he was going, but there seemed to be a tether from his heart to hers — he always knew where Ada was. He ran straight to them, nearly colliding with her father’s guards as he raced through the thick trees.

     “What happened to her?” he bellowed, jerking Ada out of Davis’s bloodstained arms.

     “She was hit, saving me,” Harrison answered. “Can you help her?”

     If there had been time, any time at all, Christian would have paused at that. How exactly had his tiny little Ada saved the giant Harrison? But there wasn’t time. He laid her on the thick grass, searching for the wound. But there was so much blood.

     “There!” Davis snapped, jabbing the air above her stomach.

     Flames roiled across Christian’s hands and he held them above her, letting the flames soothe the skin before he tried to touch it. They swirled through the air, seeping and mending the broken, charred skin.

     “Does she breathe?” Harrison asked, crouching close to put his face next to her mouth.

     Christian ignored him. He didn’t care if she breathed or not.

     She would breathe, or he would die with her.

     “She does.” Harrison sat back, relieved.

     “Can you not heal at all? Stop the blood flow from her shoulder!” Christian snapped.

     Harrison gaped at him. “We’re Edren. We don’t heal.”

     “I’m Carules and I can throw a lirik if need be,” Christian muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t argue with them now.

     She moaned.

     They all froze in shock, and then redoubled their efforts. Davis jerked his shirt off and held it to her shoulder while Christian’s blue flames leaped and danced from his hands, fighting the poison eating through her body.

     “Christian. I knew—” she whispered as her skin healed, leaving only pink burns behind.

     “Shhh. Don’t speak. You’re still very weak.” He moved from her stomach to her shoulder, pushing Davis’ shirt out of the way. It was stiff with dried blood and she shrieked when he ripped it from the wound. “Forgive me, dear one,” he whispered, his mouth near her temple, kissing the pain away. “Forgive me.”

     “I knew… you would come. I knew you… could heal me.” Her eyes fluttered open, dazed with pain, dark orbs barely reflecting the moonlight.

     “Always, Ada. Forever.”

Here's where you can find Wendy:

Social Media Links:
Blog: www.wendyknightauthor.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorWendyKnight
Twitter: https://twitter.com/wjk8099
Instagram: http://instagram.com/wendyjo99

What gets you moving toward your dream?

What inspires you?

What is it that suddenly clicks and gets you moving toward your dream?

For me, it's being around creative people. This has been a great month for soaking up the will and confidence I need to keep going. I attended a workshop last Saturday where the speaker talked about creativity. We are all creative beings, but some, if not  most, of us lost that creative spark somewhere between toddlerhood and adolescence.

How do we get it back?

Mostly, we don't even try. We defeat ourselves by saying, "I'm not good enough."

So what? Someone is always going to paint, write, sing, compose, play an instrument better than you or me. Why should that stop us? Especially if painting  or writing or whatever-it-is is our passion.

Last night we listened to Dr. Wayne Dyer. Again, I was inspired to keep working toward my dream of becoming not just "a writer" but the best writer I can be because this is what I am meant to do.

We all get discouraged. I know I do, with every bad critique or rejection. That's when I decide not to dwell on it any longer than to absorb the lessons I need to learn. Then I look for positive reinforcement from people who push me beyond the urge to give up.

I have two more conferences scheduled in the next few weeks and I'm sure I will continue to be encouraged and supported by the lessons I will learn and the words I will hear.

What keeps you moving toward your goal?

Maybe you find inspiration in a book or sermon, or from a friend's counsel. Or from nature, or music.

I'd love to hear from you if you want to share.

Snow, snow and more snow

I wrote about snow last week and  didn't think I'd have to write about it again for another year. We don't usually get more than one snowfall a season down here in North Carolina.

But then it snowed yesterday. All day, from seven in the morning until after six at night. It was beautiful, a true winter Wonderland. The snow fell on trees and bushes like the flocking we used to spray  on our Christmas trees. Everywhere you looked, there was a scene ready-made for a Christmas card. I drove downtown (the roads were still clear) only to find everything closed up tight except the hardware store, which seemed to  be doing a brisk business.

 It was still beautiful this morning. I had hoped to take a photo of the sun rising behind a stand of silver-etched trees, but there was no sunrise, just an almost imperceptible lightening of the dull, gray sky.

Forecasters warned us all last evening that the snow we enjoyed was just a taste of what was to come, that dreaded "wintry mix" of snow, sleet, and ice. Today's snow started about an hour ago, and is coming down so thickly it looks as if I'm viewing the street through a sheet of white gauze. The roads are already covered. I don't think I will venture downtown today.

What I dread is a repeat of 2000, when we had some 14 inches of snow and power out for four days. I didn't move here from Pennsylvania for this.

But when it comes to nature, we have to take what comes. There's no bargaining, no putting off what she has in store for another day when we are more prepared.

So I'll sit back with a cup of hot tea and a book, because when we heard what was coming, we made a trek to the library and stocked up.

Jim and I know what's important to our survival.

What are you afraid of?

My cat, Spooky, is afraid of everything. She spends her time hiding under the bed where she imagines she is safe from: barking dogs, shadows, telephones, things moved from one place to another, sudden noises...

She will be snuggled up to my leg as I read, and leap to the floor and run as soon as I turn a page.

Yesterday I got a lap tray I  had ordered and put it on the sofa. She jumped up, saw it, and nearly twisted herself inside out trying to get away from this new menace. A few minutes later, she put her front paws on the sofa, eyed the monster, then touched it. It didn't move, so she jumped up and sniffed it, touching it again with one paw. Deciding it was "safe," she dared to lie down beside it.

She is a rescue cat, so I don't know what made her so distrustful of anything new in life. She may have been abused as a kitten. One clue is that while she loves to have her back scratched, any sudden moves toward her head sends her into full-blown panic mode.

When we have company, they swear they don't believe we have a cat. I point out the toys, the water and food dishes and tell them I'm too old to play elaborate hoaxes.

They insist on seeing a cat.

She did surprise us once by coming into the den when we had guests. She even let one of them pet her. I wanted to grab my camera and record this jaw-dropping event, but the flash would have sent her scrambling for safety.

While she is terrified of anything and everything, we all have at least one thing we are terrified of. My terrors are largely imaginary--every time I go up the hill on Anson High Road, I imagine a car coming up the hill on the other side is attempting to pass and will meet me head-on at the crest.

Hasn't happened, but it could. People don't think a piano will fall on their head, either, but there are verified reports of this happening.

What's your secret fear? is it rational or off the wall? You can share and we won't laugh at you.

Too much.