June 2008

Communication is Good
For the first time since my husband and I got together, we are dealing with what I am calling "a delicate conversation." It is not an argument. It is simply about a subject that both he and I are touchy, defensive and emotional over. Last night he said something to me that hurt a lot. It was not meant to hurt and he did not know he hurt me and I went to bed upset. Mostly because I was upset and did not know how to communicate what I was feeling at that moment. I was too close to it.

I still hurt today but I've gathered myself enough to communicate to him what happened from my point of view and my own baggage. He was very surprised and apologetic. We talked briefly about things and now we've both backed off to think about it and what happened and what to do now.

I have to say that I'm happy at how we are communicating over this. We've never really fought. A couple of snippy comments back and forth but that it. This "delicate conversation" had (and still has) the potential of becoming a wickedly horrible affair. I know we are both doing our best to make sure it doesn't become that.

All relationship take work and this relationship with my husband is the most important one I have. I'm going to do what it takes to make sure the lines of communication are open and we understand each other without hurting each other.

My husband does know me well. He gives me kisses in the morning before work. Then takes off. This morning he came back a second time for this little conversation.

"Honey, I'm going to buy a ticket to see a band in October. I was wondering if you wanted a ticket too."

*sleepy* "What band?"

"Kamelot."

Needless to say, I came fully awake. Kamelot is in my top five bands of all time and I've turned many of my friends onto them and all thanks to my friend, Amanda. Of course, my first thought was: Buy the tickets! My second thought was: Does Amanda know they are touring in the US? I've got to tell her. My third thought was: I wonder of her husband can call them and get me backstage passes.

Yes. That's me. Caring and selfish all at the same time. But, I'm going to go see Kamelot!

On the work front, OMG, do I have work! I am slowly whittling it down to something manageable and that is good. However, it is putting a damper on my writing efforts. Right now, all I have time for is my Kendrick series on the Edge of Propinquity. It's a good series but I really want to do more. Either get to the second part of either of the two novel series I have in my head or start on the YA series I've been noodling over for forever.

Then again, I have a call with my MWP editor soon and I think one of those projects is about to kick off. That means all my creative energy gets to go there. I'm not complaining about that. I'm all excited to work on those RPG projects.

Speaking of excited, I have some (possibly) very cool news bubbling in the background. Unfortunately, I can't talk about it until Certain Things Happen. It's rather like waiting for a plot-coupon before I can make progress in my own life. I don't mind. I just hope I know (to the good) sooner rather than later.

My wedding ring and engagement ring are currently at the custom jewelry place that made them. I'm having them soldered together so I don't have worry about keeping together in their particular configuration. Plus this will kept them from damaging each other. However, this has left me with only my proposal ring until the 13th and, man, does it feel weird. I've found a simple silver band to wear with the proposal ring but both rings are so light and slightly big, I'm afraid I'm going to lose them. I can't wait to get my wedding set back.

Just Keep Breathing
For the past couple of weeks, my life has been a rollercoaster of emotions - most of which I cannot talk about publicly. At least, not yet. One, I can. I sold Grants Pass. I sold my anthology. I sold the thing I have been working off and on for over 5 years now. I sold my baby and I feel like I've stepped that much closer to one of my life's goals.

The Grants Pass anthology was born from a dream and an online writers group. I was considered to be one of the few "professional writers" in the group because of my RPG work. I posted 10 lessons on how to be published. Then, I decided to put my lessons in practice for the group. Based on three dreams I had, I created the idea for Grants Pass anthology and put out the call for submissions within the writers group. I was disappointed in the lack of response. Only a few submitted. Most of those were... not up to snuff... as they say.

So, I opened the call for submissions to a wider group. A much wider group. Like, the whole world. I even put the call for submissions on Ralan.com. I took stories for a total of 18 months. Then I spent the next two years shopping it around while editing what I had. I got a lot of good rejections.

"Love it but there aren't enough big names in it."

"Love it but anthologies are really hard to sell."

"Great idea, unique concept but..."

There is always a "but."

I didn't give up. I finally sold it. Now, I've discovered the real work has just begun. Also, I am no longer solely in charge. Stories have been cut completely. Some stories were shifted to the forthcoming website only. Some stories remain in the anthology and all of them will need rewrites of some kind based on the tightened up guidelines and gussied up background.

This is my first royalty sale. This is the first time we've sent out invitations to write for the anthology to well-established authors and who have responded with gratitude for being included in the invitations instead of cavalierly turning down the invite because it is not worth their time. Having a publisher really changes things. I even have a tentative publication date: July 2009. My baby, although slightly modified, will be out the door in about a year. I thrilled beyond words.

Now, other things are coming and they are coming fast. I have one bit of fabulous (to me) news that I can't share - yet. Soon, my precious. Soon.

Then, I had something else going on that I've been sitting on pins and needles for, that again, I can't share - yet. I got an unexpected answer. It was not "Yes" or "No." It was "Answer fuzzy. Try again later." I am disappointed in that answer but not heartbroken. It wasn't "No." and that is good.

So now I wait. I have an iron in the fire that is promising to come out soon - for good or ill. I don't want "soon." I want "now." That want is a powerful master. A couple of close friends know about it and all they can tell me is "Deep breathes."

Just keep breathing. Yeah. I guess that's all I can do.

In the meantime, life goes on. I've got work to do to pay the bills. I've got cats to feed and cuddle who don't give a damn about that super important phone call I keep waiting for. I've got a husband who loves me and a house to take care of.

And yet... I keep my phone close by me at all time. That phone call is coming. Soon. Very soon. I pray to the universe I get the answer I want.

Heartbreaking Business
The business of being a fiction author is truly a heartbreaking business. It is so much harder than I ever thought possible. On a regular basis, you put your hopes and dreams out there on the display, only for them to be dashed into a million pieces. For me, I have a good cry, pick up the pieces and get to work to putting the pieces of the dream back together - again and again. It is much like fixing Humpty-Dumpty over and over. Only to have this loveable character fall off the wall - again - and watching while it happens.

But, sometimes... sometimes, your stories don't fall. Sometimes they soar and you soar with them. The more they soar, the more you want to soar and the higher you try to fly. And the harder you fall.

The highs are so damn good that they make the falls worth it. In retrospect. When the fall is fresh, it's more than just bone broken. It's your mind, your heart, your ego. Even the good rejections hurt. Later, after a time, I'll be able to look back at this most recent one and smile.

"You are talented and obviously a prolific writer."

"This is a tough decision for me, but..."

"... you'll have no trouble finding an agent that sees what I do which is a superior talent on her way to the front tables of my local book shop!"

In time, I will look at these words later and smile. I will be grateful for them. But, right now, I am shattered. Every edge hurts. Every demon is screaming at me. Every tear is salty on my face. My hand is firmly stapled to my forehead and I feel overly dramatic "woe is me" prose coming on.

I'm going to wallow in this. I've earned it. I was just rejected by one of the top agents in the business because of various reasons but... BUT... she believes I have talent. She had to think about it. She read two of my manuscripts. All the way through. Some people never get that far. So, yes, I am going to wallow and cry and feel this pain all the to its end.

Then, I'm going to pick myself back up. Dry my tears, remove my stapled hand from my forehead, tell the demons to shut the hell up and start picking up the pieces of my dream again. Because I have to. Because I have a plan. I always have a plan. I always have next step in case what I'm doing falls through. I have to. In this business, you have to. If you don't, you'll fail before you begin.

The thing that keeps me going and will keep me going is the fact that I love to write. I love to tell stories and I will write no matter what else happens. I also have victories to remember. I've co-written three books. Two of them come out this year. I've sold my anthology, the thing I conceived and nurtured for years. It will be published in July 2009. I've been invited to write for anthologies. I have victories. They are awesome victories. They make me proud. They make me feel validated as an author. I -am- an author. Not just someone who dreams about it.

That's why this particular fall is so hard for me right now. That's why I cry while I write these words. That's why, tomorrow morning, I will pull myself up by my bootstraps and keep on keeping on. I will succeed. I know it. I just can't give up. Not now. And I won't.

But that does not stop this from being a heartbreaking business. One that will break my heart again and again. And, yet, like a fool, I will keep on trying. I can't help myself.

It's hurts.

I heal myself by writing.