Friday, April 30, 2010
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I continue to get questions in everyday life about why I use Twitter. For those out of the loop of the Twitterverse, here are some reasons:
- The ability to converse daily with other authors. While it sounds relatively easy to send an email to your favorite author--or if you're like me and in several writing email loops--it can take a while for those folks to get back to you. They're busy. You're busy. And Twitter allows for quick, simple responses rather than going into great depth about one thing or another.
- Fun! Do you enjoy random, water cooler-esque conversations? Then yes, you would probably enjoy Twitter, too, because that's all it is. It's a way to socialize and interact with people you probably wouldn't talk to or have the opportunity to talk to in your everyday life.
- Celebrities. Celebrities have taken Twitter by storm, and more are joining every day. Heck, you can even find Tom Hanks there. They're fun to follow, but don't expect them to follow you back or respond to your tweets. If you're lucky, they might, but don't count on it. Still, it's fun to watch their conversations and see what their days are like.
- Networking. Networking is useful for finding jobs, interacting with other professionals in our field, and for finding new friends. Who doesn't want a little of that? And if you're like me and innately shy with new people, it makes it easier to introduce yourself in person.
- Tips and tricks. I can't even begin to count the tips I've gotten from Twitter as an unpublished writer from literary agents, editors, and other writers. And since the writing community is generally very, very welcoming and supportive, they are more than happy to answer questions. I've paid it forward as much as possible, and when I'm published, I'll keep paying it forward.
So there you have it, folks. Those are just a few of the reasons I find Twitter useful. I think it's here to stay despite some people indicating they believe it's a fad and set to die quickly.
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Thursday, April 29, 2010
As I was cruising through my Google Reader yesterday, delight filled me as I read the latest post from the Avon Romance Blog. Why, you ask?
Avon is offering their readers the opportunity to be the writer! Each week, they'll send out a prompt, and after they have 25 comments, they'll choose a winner. Thrilled to my toes at having the chance to put my writing in front of these folks, I entered last evening.
This week's prompt: HE–former high school baseball star who flopped in the pros. Now, he’s back in town to coach the local minor league team. SHE: Could write epic volumes on what it takes to be the biggest nerd in your high school. Now, she’s the principal.
Your mission: Write the dialogue of the first time they see each other again.
Here is the entry I posted in the comments (and I had loads of fun with this!):
Elisabeth’s heels clicked down the hallway as if tapping out the rhythm to an angry song. As she turned the corner toward the lunchroom where she fully expected to find the troublemakers starting another food fight, she slammed into a hard masculine chest, jostling her glasses so that they slid down her nose just a bit. She put up a finger to push them back into place and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s fine,” the man responded, grasping her shoulders to steady her.
Elisabeth looked up from the stack of papers she clutched to her chest and straight into the eyes of her high school crush. “Jonathan. What the hell are you doing here?”
Jonathan held her gaze for a long moment. “To sign a student. Surely you must have heard by now about my fall from grace.”
She shook her head swiftly, knocking a tendril of hair from her tight chignon. “I didn’t. I didn’t even know you were back in town.”
“I am. I’m the new coach for the Sounds. There’s a senior here who’s showing a lot of promise. I’m here to recruit him.”
“Michael Sullivan.”
“That’s the one.” Jonathan paused. “Elisabeth, it’s been a long time–”
Elisabeth stepped back from his grasp. “I have to go. It’s good to see you again. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Elisabeth, wait–”
“Gotta run! So good to see you again, Jonathan.”
She nearly ran down the hallway toward the lunchroom, desperate to hide from his searching gaze. He was exactly as she remembered: stormy blue eyes that saw straight to her soul, mahogany hair she ached to run her hands through, and a body as hard as a rock. She’d pined for him all through high school, and he hadn’t even known she was alive. Well, she didn’t think he did, but he obviously remembered her name. That was certainly a surprise since he’d had enough girls lined up in front of his house to form his own fan club.
And Elisabeth was just another groupie. She would have done anything for him, damn him. She nearly had.
Avon is offering their readers the opportunity to be the writer! Each week, they'll send out a prompt, and after they have 25 comments, they'll choose a winner. Thrilled to my toes at having the chance to put my writing in front of these folks, I entered last evening.
This week's prompt: HE–former high school baseball star who flopped in the pros. Now, he’s back in town to coach the local minor league team. SHE: Could write epic volumes on what it takes to be the biggest nerd in your high school. Now, she’s the principal.
Your mission: Write the dialogue of the first time they see each other again.
Here is the entry I posted in the comments (and I had loads of fun with this!):
Elisabeth’s heels clicked down the hallway as if tapping out the rhythm to an angry song. As she turned the corner toward the lunchroom where she fully expected to find the troublemakers starting another food fight, she slammed into a hard masculine chest, jostling her glasses so that they slid down her nose just a bit. She put up a finger to push them back into place and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s fine,” the man responded, grasping her shoulders to steady her.
Elisabeth looked up from the stack of papers she clutched to her chest and straight into the eyes of her high school crush. “Jonathan. What the hell are you doing here?”
Jonathan held her gaze for a long moment. “To sign a student. Surely you must have heard by now about my fall from grace.”
She shook her head swiftly, knocking a tendril of hair from her tight chignon. “I didn’t. I didn’t even know you were back in town.”
“I am. I’m the new coach for the Sounds. There’s a senior here who’s showing a lot of promise. I’m here to recruit him.”
“Michael Sullivan.”
“That’s the one.” Jonathan paused. “Elisabeth, it’s been a long time–”
Elisabeth stepped back from his grasp. “I have to go. It’s good to see you again. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Elisabeth, wait–”
“Gotta run! So good to see you again, Jonathan.”
She nearly ran down the hallway toward the lunchroom, desperate to hide from his searching gaze. He was exactly as she remembered: stormy blue eyes that saw straight to her soul, mahogany hair she ached to run her hands through, and a body as hard as a rock. She’d pined for him all through high school, and he hadn’t even known she was alive. Well, she didn’t think he did, but he obviously remembered her name. That was certainly a surprise since he’d had enough girls lined up in front of his house to form his own fan club.
And Elisabeth was just another groupie. She would have done anything for him, damn him. She nearly had.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Will and I have talked about adopting a child since we first met eight and a half years ago. Will's philosophy has always been, "Why bring another child into the world when there are so many already out there who need homes?" And I suppose my philosophy aligns with his, but I also always imagined I would have my own children. In 2005, I kissed that idea goodbye when I was diagnosed with my eye condition. The drug that is injected into my eye--Avastin--is a VEGF inhibitor. In other words, it prevents new blood vessels from growing in my eye. But because a small amount of the drug leaks out into the body, a woman cannot be pregnant and receive treatment. VEGF is needed for a fetus to develop. In order for us to have our own biological children, I would need to stop treatment for most of the pregnancy. I could be risking losing most of the vision in my right eye, and I'm not sure I'm willing to take on the risk as selfish as that may sound.
It's a tough choice to make: take a huge risk with the remaining vision in my right eye or give up the idea of biological children. After many discussions with my ophthalmologist and Will, we tabled the idea of having our own children. And then we decided we might want our own children. And then we decided we might not want children at all. Now, we're back to discussing adoption.
When I think of adopting a child, my mind wanders to China or Korea. I'm drawn to those countries. In particular, I'm strongly drawn to China because of the amount of girls given up to orphanages because boys are preferred there. I've never imagined having just one child. I've always thought I would like at least two. I'm okay with one, but there's something about having a sibling around to share things with that makes life a little easier. So...Will and I have begun tossing around the idea of adopting twins because you are allowed to do that. Not only would our children have a blood-related sibling, but it would greatly reduce adoption costs on our end because we would only need to make one trip. While the idea of adopting two children at once is overwhelming, I find it also a little exciting. Having twins would be an adventure, and I'm absolutely fascinated by them.
We like our lifestyle--the freedom to travel when we want, the extra money to buy nice things, the quiet house after work. But someone pointed out to me recently that we should sit down and imagine our lives in a few years when we're still alone. If that doesn't appeal to us, then maybe having kids is a good decision. And when we talked about it, yes, we can see ourselves as just a couple with no kids, but we could also see ourselves as parents taking our children with us wherever we go and helping them grow into loving, productive members of society. Hey, maybe they would give us grandchildren to enjoy and visit us when we're too old to visit them.
I'm still not absolutely positive I want kids, but as I approach 30, I find myself thinking about it more and more. Interestingly, we watched the movie Four Christmases this past weekend. I saw a lot of Will and me in it. As much as we've talked about kids, I think maybe we want to be parents, but because we have to make the conscious decision to enter the adoption process, it isn't as easy as just turning up pregnant one day. Once you're pregnant, you're kind of "all in" whether you want to be or not. But with adoption, you really are making the choice to be a parent, making the choice to love someone unconditionally, making the choice to sculpt this little person's life, making the choice to meet your child in another country, and making the choice to answer (or not) questions when someone asks why your child doesn't look like you.
We still have a lot to think about, but we're moving closer to making a decision. When we make it--like most of our other decisions--it will be quick, and we'll move toward the process rapidly.
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It's a tough choice to make: take a huge risk with the remaining vision in my right eye or give up the idea of biological children. After many discussions with my ophthalmologist and Will, we tabled the idea of having our own children. And then we decided we might want our own children. And then we decided we might not want children at all. Now, we're back to discussing adoption.
When I think of adopting a child, my mind wanders to China or Korea. I'm drawn to those countries. In particular, I'm strongly drawn to China because of the amount of girls given up to orphanages because boys are preferred there. I've never imagined having just one child. I've always thought I would like at least two. I'm okay with one, but there's something about having a sibling around to share things with that makes life a little easier. So...Will and I have begun tossing around the idea of adopting twins because you are allowed to do that. Not only would our children have a blood-related sibling, but it would greatly reduce adoption costs on our end because we would only need to make one trip. While the idea of adopting two children at once is overwhelming, I find it also a little exciting. Having twins would be an adventure, and I'm absolutely fascinated by them.
We like our lifestyle--the freedom to travel when we want, the extra money to buy nice things, the quiet house after work. But someone pointed out to me recently that we should sit down and imagine our lives in a few years when we're still alone. If that doesn't appeal to us, then maybe having kids is a good decision. And when we talked about it, yes, we can see ourselves as just a couple with no kids, but we could also see ourselves as parents taking our children with us wherever we go and helping them grow into loving, productive members of society. Hey, maybe they would give us grandchildren to enjoy and visit us when we're too old to visit them.
I'm still not absolutely positive I want kids, but as I approach 30, I find myself thinking about it more and more. Interestingly, we watched the movie Four Christmases this past weekend. I saw a lot of Will and me in it. As much as we've talked about kids, I think maybe we want to be parents, but because we have to make the conscious decision to enter the adoption process, it isn't as easy as just turning up pregnant one day. Once you're pregnant, you're kind of "all in" whether you want to be or not. But with adoption, you really are making the choice to be a parent, making the choice to love someone unconditionally, making the choice to sculpt this little person's life, making the choice to meet your child in another country, and making the choice to answer (or not) questions when someone asks why your child doesn't look like you.
We still have a lot to think about, but we're moving closer to making a decision. When we make it--like most of our other decisions--it will be quick, and we'll move toward the process rapidly.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
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I've been watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. Jamie Oliver is one of my favorite chefs and has been since his The Naked Chef days on the Food Network. Jamie collaborated with Ryan Seacrest to produce this show, and Jamie traveled to Huntington, West Virginia in a quest to change the way the people of Huntington eat. He's experimented with this before in England, and it usually starts with the school systems...so that's where he started in Huntington.
Despite meeting much initial resistance, Jamie was able to initiate some change in a town that isn't typically friendly to outsiders. He even won over some of his sharpest critics, including a radio host who was hostile from the get-go. But as with any revolution, there were problems, and Jamie was ready to meet them head-on. I was impressed with his tenacity and his passion for making sure the current generation of children are leading healthy lives.
I've struggled with maintaining a healthy weight my whole life. I am by no means morbidly obese, but I have always been heavier than I should be or want to be. Part of the problem is my busy lifestyle and the lack of time to cook foods that aren't processed. By watching Jamie's show, I am inspired to try to make more foods from scratch, and I've also discovered that it doesn't have to be as time consuming as everyone makes it out to be. I might even venture to begin menu planning. And maybe we if we all took some of these simple, five-minute tasks, we would be much healthier in the end--leaving us time for more important things like writing.
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Friday, April 23, 2010
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It's been one hell of a week, to put it bluntly.
This week, my mom underwent brain surgery. Specifically, she had a procedure at Vanderbilt University Hospital called deep brain stimulation. DBS is used to treat Parkinson's disease. It is the same disorder that affects Michael J. Fox and Muhammad Ali. And it's the same disease that's caused my mom and my family much distress over the past few years.
While there is no cure for Parkinson's disease, there are many treatments available. My mom is on a very low dose of medications to treat it, and the DBS procedure may allow her to completely stop those medications. It often has dramatically successful results, and we're hoping that at 59 years old, she can begin to lead a somewhat normal life again. Luckily, Vanderbilt is one of the top centers in the country for this procedure, and her neurosurgeon--Dr. Joseph Neimat--is a brilliant surgeon. She came through the surgery with flying colors, and the final surgery occurs on Monday.
I can't begin to describe the stress--emotionally and physically--that I've endured over the last few days. It's difficult to see a parent in a vulnerable state, especially one so young. And it's perhaps especially difficult for my siblings and myself since she's really the only parent we have. I could cry at the drop of a hat, but I know that this is going to give us a glimmer of hope. We'll begin to see results in about a month when the device is programmed. In the meantime, my mom is healing and coping as best she can.
Thank you for all of the prayers and well wishes over the past couple of weeks. We felt them, and I'm sure my mom did, too, since her attitude has been remarkably positive throughout the ordeal. My siblings and I are grateful for the support, and my aunts and uncles are as well. Please continue to keep our family in your prayers since we do have one more to go before this is all over.
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Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
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I'm headed to my first ever crawfish boil this weekend. That's right...Miss I'm-From-Kentucky-And-Darn-Proud-Of-It has never been to a crawfish boil. And apparently, they're quite common. The one I'm headed to this weekend is being held as a benefit for Freedom Farm Animal Sanctuary, a no-kill shelter in Hendersonville, Tennessee.
I'm scared.
You see, apparently, you have to crack them open...whole. They're like little mini lobsters, only it isn't just the tail! I'm not sure how I feel about something with eyes looking back at me. But being the adventurous soul that I am, Will and I are going to give it a whirl. As long as no one calls them "mud bugs" while I'm trying to eat them, I should be good to go. And did I mention I hope they don't taste like dirt?
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Thursday, April 8, 2010
As the national conference approaches, I'm catching occasional rushes of adrenaline. But with adrenaline usually comes a hard letdown. Some of that adrenaline is directed at getting to attend workshops, networking with other writers, and seeing old friends. Some of it is directed at the possibility of a coveted pitch session with an editor or agent. Unfortunately, appointments with these folks disappear quickly. So the other way you might be able to meet them? Volunteering. I've put my name on several volunteer lists not only because I'm interested in meeting people who can possibly help my dreams come true but also because it's an opportunity to participate in the conference in a different way. Maybe I can even pick up some tips from other writers.
I'm beyond excited about this opportunity. The problem? I'm scared. After all the hours and hours and hours of work I've put into this writing pursuit, after all the tears and joy and fear, after all the opportunities I've passed up with friends because I needed to work on the novel, what if it never comes to fruition? It's a terrifying thought--that it was all for naught.
I write because I love it and don't expect to make oodles of money from it, but of course I want to be published--and I don't mean self-published. I've been asked over and over again if I'm going to self-publish, and while I don't frown upon others if they choose to go that route, it isn't my chosen path. I've always wanted to publish with a major house like Signet Eclipse, Avon, Kensington, or Penguin. It's a harder road to take, but that's my dream. I knew when I started this journey that it wouldn't be easy. And yet, I've stuck with it.
This conference is the next big step in the direction of getting published. I think that's why the anxiety is starting to ramp up.
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I'm beyond excited about this opportunity. The problem? I'm scared. After all the hours and hours and hours of work I've put into this writing pursuit, after all the tears and joy and fear, after all the opportunities I've passed up with friends because I needed to work on the novel, what if it never comes to fruition? It's a terrifying thought--that it was all for naught.
I write because I love it and don't expect to make oodles of money from it, but of course I want to be published--and I don't mean self-published. I've been asked over and over again if I'm going to self-publish, and while I don't frown upon others if they choose to go that route, it isn't my chosen path. I've always wanted to publish with a major house like Signet Eclipse, Avon, Kensington, or Penguin. It's a harder road to take, but that's my dream. I knew when I started this journey that it wouldn't be easy. And yet, I've stuck with it.
This conference is the next big step in the direction of getting published. I think that's why the anxiety is starting to ramp up.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
I need a rope. And a chair. And if you put the two together, you can figure out what I'm getting at.
I've been in the middle of a read-through of my novel for almost a month now. Life has gotten in the way, and it's not going nearly as quickly as I would like. But I'm making progress, and I'm hoping I can finish the read-through this weekend. The good news? I've set a deadline to have my revisions completed by May 31st. I plan to be in submission to agents and achieve PRO status with RWA by July. I have a lot on my plate over the next two months, including some family obligations. But I can do it. I tend to do better with deadlines, and since I want to pitch at the upcoming national conference, I have to get my rear in gear.
So, readers, you're my accountability partners. I'll keep you updated over the next couple of months, and we'll see where we get.
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Friday, April 2, 2010
"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." -Les Brown
It's 11:30 PM, and I'm in my writing room typing this blog post to the sounds of '80s music and Delilah's soothing voice. I feel like a teenager with the window open and the cool night breeze wafting in. It reminds me of those nights long ago when I dreamed of a career as a world-renowned author or a beautiful and wealthy actress. I would sit in my bedroom and breathe in the scent of...possibility.
I was never taught to reach for the stars. Instead, I was taught pragmatism and diligence. But somehow, I managed to reach for the moon anyway. That's how I ended up writing my first novel at the age of 18 and my second at the age of 29.
Where am I going with this? Who knows, but I decided a few minutes ago that I need to set a deadline. Something concrete and easy to reach for. I seem to do best when I have a deadline because they aren't quite so easy to blow off.
So here is the next deadline, readers: I will have revisions completed by May 31st and apply for PRO status with RWA by July 1st. The last time I set a deadline, I said I would complete the first draft my novel by January 31st. I beat that deadline by two weeks.
Ready. Set. GO!
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It's 11:30 PM, and I'm in my writing room typing this blog post to the sounds of '80s music and Delilah's soothing voice. I feel like a teenager with the window open and the cool night breeze wafting in. It reminds me of those nights long ago when I dreamed of a career as a world-renowned author or a beautiful and wealthy actress. I would sit in my bedroom and breathe in the scent of...possibility.
I was never taught to reach for the stars. Instead, I was taught pragmatism and diligence. But somehow, I managed to reach for the moon anyway. That's how I ended up writing my first novel at the age of 18 and my second at the age of 29.
Where am I going with this? Who knows, but I decided a few minutes ago that I need to set a deadline. Something concrete and easy to reach for. I seem to do best when I have a deadline because they aren't quite so easy to blow off.
So here is the next deadline, readers: I will have revisions completed by May 31st and apply for PRO status with RWA by July 1st. The last time I set a deadline, I said I would complete the first draft my novel by January 31st. I beat that deadline by two weeks.
Ready. Set. GO!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Today's blog post is written by Sara Lindsey. Sara is the author of Promise Me Tonight and the upcoming Tempting the Marquess.
I've always loved writing. In high school I had delusions of grandeur, or maybe just delusions, about writing the next Great American Novel, which would be picked up by Oprah for her book club... Then I realized I really hated most of Oprah's book club picks because I couldn't get past all the dysfunction. I think The House of Sand and Fog did me in. The writing was wonderful, and the story itself was interesting, but the book left me so depressed. As someone who battles with depression, I really don't need an extra fix.
When I was in my junior year of high school, I had a particularly nasty case of the flu. To distract me from my misery, my mom gave me Diana Gabaldon's Outlander. I devoured it and the next three books in the series (that's all that was in print at the time), which amounts to about 3600 pages, over the course of four days. And then I kept rereading them. In an effort to broaden my reading horizons, my mom asked a bookseller for a recommendation along the lines of Outlander. The bookseller, bless her heart, handed my mom Linda Howard's Son of the Morning. I was introduced to the romance genre - where the ultimate goal was leaving the reader feeling happy - and I never looked back.
Fast forward to my sophomore year of college (circa 2003) when I'd exhausted the backlists of several authors and was looking for a new author to glom. And by looking for a new author to glom, I really mean looking for was to procrastinate from doing chemistry labs. In any case, I browsed Amazon lists based on authors I loved, and one name kept coming up over and over, so I decided to check out this Julia Quinn chick.
As I read the bio on her website, I felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Art history major? Check. No future in it? Check. Aversion to being a lawyer? Check. Doctor by default? Check. I went out and bought The Viscount Who Loved Me, which will always have a special place in my heart as my first Julia Quinn novel and because it introduces the Mallet of Death. I'd managed a fair bit of romance reading - most of it historical - in the four or so years since I'd first been handed Son of the Morning, but JQ was the first laugh-out-loud funny romance author I encountered - and I loved it. And, having taken creative writing courses in high school and college, I had an inkling of what my voice was, and I thought it would appeal to what appeared to be a not insignificant fan base for historical romances with humor.
Discovering JQ’s books planted the first seeds in my mind that maybe my voice had a place within the genre I'd come to love so deeply. Those seeds sat dormant while I finished up college. I wrote a bit, but it was lots of little things rather than any concentrated effort on a single project. Eloisa James's Dreaming Up Gabriel contest was what really made the seeds start to sprout. Not only did I have a blast writing my contest entry, but the validation from one of my very favorite authors was a major catalyst to really write a book and not just think about writing one.
Shortly after that, I was fortunate enough to win lunch and a critique with my idol, the great Julia Quinn herself, through an auction to benefit Hurricane Katrina victims. Getting to pick JQ's brain about the romance industry was amazing, and getting her feedback on the early chapters of Promise Me Tonight was invaluable. (If she ever auctions off another one, I've got to say JQ does a marvelous critique!) At our lunch, JQ also happened to mention an upcoming Avon project she was going to be involved with - FanLit - and encouraged me to participate. This was lucky since I had thought FanLit was going to be a group of readers writing scenes about their favorite characters in existing Avon books. FanLit really built up my confidence as a writer - not to mention the fabulous feedback from the author judges - and it gave me the best group of friends, many of whom were also just starting out as authors and struggling through the same things, and all of whom supportive throughout crazy process of writing a book.
FanLit and all its wonderful craziness finished in either November or December of 2006. I'm terrible at remembering dates. I do know, however, that I had a self-imposed deadline of April 1, 2007 to finish my book. I remember this date because 1) it fell during a family trip to Cabo (during which I maybe saw the outside of the hotel room twice), and 2) I actually finished a day early because I knew my mother wouldn't believe me if I told her I'd finished the book on April Fools' Day.
Now, most writers finish a book and begin the revision process... not me. Partially because I revise as I go, and partially because I was terrified to read my book all the way through and realize that it sucked, I began sending out queries about a week after finishing. I sent out my first round of queries on April 8, 2007. I received my first form rejection letter on April 9, 2007. Yup, my book was rejected in less than 24 hours. It stung a bit – not gonna lie – but, on the bright side, a rejection letter qualified me for PRO status in RWA. I began hearing from other agents, almost all of whom wanted to see a partial or the full manuscript, which was very encouraging. I sent my baby out into the cold world, crossed my fingers and settled down to wait.
I received lots of rejections. They were positive for the most part, but they were still rejections. No one loved my book enough to want to represent it. The characters didn’t ring quite true for this agent; the plot wasn’t fresh enough for that agent. I was getting mixed feedback from the few contests I’d entered as well. Judges either loved it or hated it, but none of them ever loved or hated the same elements. I was thoroughly confused by the time summer rolled around, and with it the RWA national conference. Thanks to my PRO status I had signed up for agent/editor appointments. These led to more requests and, ultimately, more rejections.
Shortly before conference, I had received a rejection from an agent whose assistant really loved my book. She was an aspiring writer as well (and I’m thrilled that she’ll soon be published) and knew the frustrations of endless querying. We began an email correspondence and she offered to see if any of the editors she was in touch with were interested in reading my book. The name she got back to me with was that of the late, great Kate Duffy. I approached Kate (with not a little trepidation) at RWA while my manuscript was still winging its way to her office, and she was wonderfully warm and encouraging; her excitement over finding (potentially) a new author was infectious. I went home from conference in high spirits.
A few weeks after conference, I got a call from New York on my cell phone. Well, my mom actually fished my phone out of my pocket since when I got the call my hand was being covered in plaster to make a model for my sister’s prosthetic arm. As I waited for the plaster to dry I instructed my mother to compare the phone number with all of the business cards I had accumulated at conference. It was Kate Duffy. I fretted impatiently while I waited to get the use of my arm back, and then I ran out into the parking lot to call back. I was certain this was it. It had to be, I told myself. Editors didn’t call with rejections, right?!
Wrong.
Kate was very complimentary about my writing, but she had some reservations about the book. My heroine, Isabella, was too young, she told me, and the whole story felt a bit too youthful. She told me she had no doubts I would be very successful, but she didn’t feel she could buy this particular book. She urged me to submit any and all future projects to her. I will always be saddened that I never had the opportunity to work with Kate Duffy, but her words – her belief in my ability and my future – have sustained me through the many bouts of depression and insecurity that seem to plague creative people.
After Kate passed on the book, I let myself mope for a week and then, faced with the prospect of either revising the book or starting a new one, I opted to begin revisions. In the fall of 2007 I attended the New Jersey RWA regional conference and met with two editors. I particularly clicked with one of them, who requested the full manuscript, and I walked out of the meeting room in a happy daze. (In all honesty, the daze had a lot to do with my migraine medication, but I was genuinely thrilled someone wanted to read my book.) “I think,” I told my friends waiting outside, “I just met my editor.”
After the NJ conference I continued to work on my revisions. When I could put it off no longer, I began querying agents again in early spring of 2008. Except in one or two cases I didn’t query agents who had rejected my book before because I felt a) the book hadn’t changed *that* much, and b) if the agent had really loved it, he or she would have been able to suggest the necessary revisions. I was at work when I got an email from an agent saying she wanted to represent me and asking me to call her. I burst into happy tears and called my mother with the good news.
I dutifully sent emails to all the other agents I had queried informing them that I had received an offer and asking them to let me know their decisions within the next two weeks. I honestly expected all of them to politely decline. I was stunned when I received two more offers of representation, one of which was from my dream agent, the wonderful Kimberly Witherspoon, who also represents Eloisa James. I signed with Kim in late spring of 2007, and I went on submission shortly after. My one request was that the book be sent Kerry Donovan, the editor who had shown such interest in me and my book at the NJ RWA conference. I am eternally grateful to have made this request since, as I had prophesied, Kerry did indeed become my editor.
So, in a nutshell, I have always wanted to write. The focus on historical romance grew out of my Diana Gabaldon obsession, but it sharpened into something more concrete when I discovered Julia Quinn's books. Of course, there's a definite difference between wanting to write and believing you actually have the ability to write an entire book. That last developed out of the combination of support from my favorite authors and from my friends in the romance community, which is the loveliest, most giving network I've had the privilege of belonging to. And that (more or less) is my publication journey.
Sara Lindsey began writing during her senior year of college. The rest, as they say, is history... or rather, historical romance. Sara divides her time between her native Los Angeles and Manhattan, where she is pursuing her graduate degree in information and library science.
Having read a number of romances featuring librarians, Sara figures this profession bodes well for someday getting her own happily ever after. In the meantime, she plans to turn as many unsuspecting library patrons as possible into fellow romance addicts.
Visit Sara at her website.
I've always loved writing. In high school I had delusions of grandeur, or maybe just delusions, about writing the next Great American Novel, which would be picked up by Oprah for her book club... Then I realized I really hated most of Oprah's book club picks because I couldn't get past all the dysfunction. I think The House of Sand and Fog did me in. The writing was wonderful, and the story itself was interesting, but the book left me so depressed. As someone who battles with depression, I really don't need an extra fix.
When I was in my junior year of high school, I had a particularly nasty case of the flu. To distract me from my misery, my mom gave me Diana Gabaldon's Outlander. I devoured it and the next three books in the series (that's all that was in print at the time), which amounts to about 3600 pages, over the course of four days. And then I kept rereading them. In an effort to broaden my reading horizons, my mom asked a bookseller for a recommendation along the lines of Outlander. The bookseller, bless her heart, handed my mom Linda Howard's Son of the Morning. I was introduced to the romance genre - where the ultimate goal was leaving the reader feeling happy - and I never looked back.
Fast forward to my sophomore year of college (circa 2003) when I'd exhausted the backlists of several authors and was looking for a new author to glom. And by looking for a new author to glom, I really mean looking for was to procrastinate from doing chemistry labs. In any case, I browsed Amazon lists based on authors I loved, and one name kept coming up over and over, so I decided to check out this Julia Quinn chick.
As I read the bio on her website, I felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Art history major? Check. No future in it? Check. Aversion to being a lawyer? Check. Doctor by default? Check. I went out and bought The Viscount Who Loved Me, which will always have a special place in my heart as my first Julia Quinn novel and because it introduces the Mallet of Death. I'd managed a fair bit of romance reading - most of it historical - in the four or so years since I'd first been handed Son of the Morning, but JQ was the first laugh-out-loud funny romance author I encountered - and I loved it. And, having taken creative writing courses in high school and college, I had an inkling of what my voice was, and I thought it would appeal to what appeared to be a not insignificant fan base for historical romances with humor.
Discovering JQ’s books planted the first seeds in my mind that maybe my voice had a place within the genre I'd come to love so deeply. Those seeds sat dormant while I finished up college. I wrote a bit, but it was lots of little things rather than any concentrated effort on a single project. Eloisa James's Dreaming Up Gabriel contest was what really made the seeds start to sprout. Not only did I have a blast writing my contest entry, but the validation from one of my very favorite authors was a major catalyst to really write a book and not just think about writing one.
Shortly after that, I was fortunate enough to win lunch and a critique with my idol, the great Julia Quinn herself, through an auction to benefit Hurricane Katrina victims. Getting to pick JQ's brain about the romance industry was amazing, and getting her feedback on the early chapters of Promise Me Tonight was invaluable. (If she ever auctions off another one, I've got to say JQ does a marvelous critique!) At our lunch, JQ also happened to mention an upcoming Avon project she was going to be involved with - FanLit - and encouraged me to participate. This was lucky since I had thought FanLit was going to be a group of readers writing scenes about their favorite characters in existing Avon books. FanLit really built up my confidence as a writer - not to mention the fabulous feedback from the author judges - and it gave me the best group of friends, many of whom were also just starting out as authors and struggling through the same things, and all of whom supportive throughout crazy process of writing a book.
FanLit and all its wonderful craziness finished in either November or December of 2006. I'm terrible at remembering dates. I do know, however, that I had a self-imposed deadline of April 1, 2007 to finish my book. I remember this date because 1) it fell during a family trip to Cabo (during which I maybe saw the outside of the hotel room twice), and 2) I actually finished a day early because I knew my mother wouldn't believe me if I told her I'd finished the book on April Fools' Day.
Now, most writers finish a book and begin the revision process... not me. Partially because I revise as I go, and partially because I was terrified to read my book all the way through and realize that it sucked, I began sending out queries about a week after finishing. I sent out my first round of queries on April 8, 2007. I received my first form rejection letter on April 9, 2007. Yup, my book was rejected in less than 24 hours. It stung a bit – not gonna lie – but, on the bright side, a rejection letter qualified me for PRO status in RWA. I began hearing from other agents, almost all of whom wanted to see a partial or the full manuscript, which was very encouraging. I sent my baby out into the cold world, crossed my fingers and settled down to wait.
I received lots of rejections. They were positive for the most part, but they were still rejections. No one loved my book enough to want to represent it. The characters didn’t ring quite true for this agent; the plot wasn’t fresh enough for that agent. I was getting mixed feedback from the few contests I’d entered as well. Judges either loved it or hated it, but none of them ever loved or hated the same elements. I was thoroughly confused by the time summer rolled around, and with it the RWA national conference. Thanks to my PRO status I had signed up for agent/editor appointments. These led to more requests and, ultimately, more rejections.
Shortly before conference, I had received a rejection from an agent whose assistant really loved my book. She was an aspiring writer as well (and I’m thrilled that she’ll soon be published) and knew the frustrations of endless querying. We began an email correspondence and she offered to see if any of the editors she was in touch with were interested in reading my book. The name she got back to me with was that of the late, great Kate Duffy. I approached Kate (with not a little trepidation) at RWA while my manuscript was still winging its way to her office, and she was wonderfully warm and encouraging; her excitement over finding (potentially) a new author was infectious. I went home from conference in high spirits.
A few weeks after conference, I got a call from New York on my cell phone. Well, my mom actually fished my phone out of my pocket since when I got the call my hand was being covered in plaster to make a model for my sister’s prosthetic arm. As I waited for the plaster to dry I instructed my mother to compare the phone number with all of the business cards I had accumulated at conference. It was Kate Duffy. I fretted impatiently while I waited to get the use of my arm back, and then I ran out into the parking lot to call back. I was certain this was it. It had to be, I told myself. Editors didn’t call with rejections, right?!
Wrong.
Kate was very complimentary about my writing, but she had some reservations about the book. My heroine, Isabella, was too young, she told me, and the whole story felt a bit too youthful. She told me she had no doubts I would be very successful, but she didn’t feel she could buy this particular book. She urged me to submit any and all future projects to her. I will always be saddened that I never had the opportunity to work with Kate Duffy, but her words – her belief in my ability and my future – have sustained me through the many bouts of depression and insecurity that seem to plague creative people.
After Kate passed on the book, I let myself mope for a week and then, faced with the prospect of either revising the book or starting a new one, I opted to begin revisions. In the fall of 2007 I attended the New Jersey RWA regional conference and met with two editors. I particularly clicked with one of them, who requested the full manuscript, and I walked out of the meeting room in a happy daze. (In all honesty, the daze had a lot to do with my migraine medication, but I was genuinely thrilled someone wanted to read my book.) “I think,” I told my friends waiting outside, “I just met my editor.”
After the NJ conference I continued to work on my revisions. When I could put it off no longer, I began querying agents again in early spring of 2008. Except in one or two cases I didn’t query agents who had rejected my book before because I felt a) the book hadn’t changed *that* much, and b) if the agent had really loved it, he or she would have been able to suggest the necessary revisions. I was at work when I got an email from an agent saying she wanted to represent me and asking me to call her. I burst into happy tears and called my mother with the good news.
I dutifully sent emails to all the other agents I had queried informing them that I had received an offer and asking them to let me know their decisions within the next two weeks. I honestly expected all of them to politely decline. I was stunned when I received two more offers of representation, one of which was from my dream agent, the wonderful Kimberly Witherspoon, who also represents Eloisa James. I signed with Kim in late spring of 2007, and I went on submission shortly after. My one request was that the book be sent Kerry Donovan, the editor who had shown such interest in me and my book at the NJ RWA conference. I am eternally grateful to have made this request since, as I had prophesied, Kerry did indeed become my editor.
So, in a nutshell, I have always wanted to write. The focus on historical romance grew out of my Diana Gabaldon obsession, but it sharpened into something more concrete when I discovered Julia Quinn's books. Of course, there's a definite difference between wanting to write and believing you actually have the ability to write an entire book. That last developed out of the combination of support from my favorite authors and from my friends in the romance community, which is the loveliest, most giving network I've had the privilege of belonging to. And that (more or less) is my publication journey.
Sara Lindsey began writing during her senior year of college. The rest, as they say, is history... or rather, historical romance. Sara divides her time between her native Los Angeles and Manhattan, where she is pursuing her graduate degree in information and library science.
Having read a number of romances featuring librarians, Sara figures this profession bodes well for someday getting her own happily ever after. In the meantime, she plans to turn as many unsuspecting library patrons as possible into fellow romance addicts.
Visit Sara at her website.
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