Birthdays

Birthdays are wondrous things. They mark the fact that you made it through another year, despite the ravages of Father Time. They allow you to reflect on life. And then, there's cake.

Yesterday was my birthday. We won't examine how many years I have under my belt now. But I will say that the past seven years, since I got serious about having a romance writing career, have been the most challenging and rewarding years of my life, so far.

And while we're on the subject of birthdays, I'll reveal that the book birthday for the print edition of The Forgotten Debutante is this week as well. This book is very special to me, because it's dedicated to Aunt Dot. She was never my aunt by blood, but definitely by spirit. I last saw Dot a couple years ago, and she raved about my books, although she thought I needed to spice up my sex scenes. She was 94 when she passed on, unfortunately too soon to see the book in print.

I still have milestones to hit and awards to shoot for. My five-year plan is now a ten-year one, since things tend to move more slowly in publishing. Sure, there are some authors who become overnight successes and are able to quit their day jobs in a matter of months, but that's the exception rather than the norm. I read somewhere recently that the average author makes about $10,000 a year from her writing.

So, I'll keep chugging along, reaching my goals and then trying to exceed them. Some things will change, some things I thought were important will fall by the wayside. But I can rest assured that other goals will take their place, other areas of writing will be explored, other voices that had formerly been merely whispers in my head will now no longer be denied center stage and will be able to take to a soapbox.

That's what keeps me excited to leap out of bed each morning. I sit with my coffee and my WIPs, caressing each file with my cursor before one of them calls to me for attention. Today, Kathleen, my child of the Revolutionary War, stomped her foot, demanding I spend time with her. Tomorrow, it may be Taffy, my adventurous contemporary woman. Or Raoul, who makes my heart race. I never know where my muse will show up until I get there.


And of course, I can't forget a bit of self-promotion. Today's the final day to vote for the RONE awards. I have three titles up for the award, and you can only vote for one, so I've been requesting votes go to A Widow's Salvation. Here's the link, and Pepper and I will appreciate your vote: http://www.indtale.com/2016-rone-awards-week-four

Regardless of when your birthday is, I wish you a happy one.

The Calm Before The Storm

I was asked recently by a soon-to-be-published debut author what types of promotion work best for me. And since today is the day before my release of The Forgotten Debutante, the calm before the storm, I thought I'd share what I've learned in the four years since I was a soon-to-be-published author.

1. Make friends with other authors, both inside your local chapter, and outside. Follow them on the various forums, buy and read their books, write reviews and post them, if you have a blog, offer to host them, etc. You'll soon find an entire group who are following the same trajectory you are at the same time, and there's safety in numbers. Plus, it's fun to watch their successes. I know the conventional marketing wisdom is not to add these fellow authors to your twitter feed, or friend them on Facebook, but I think that's a mistake. Most authors are also voracious readers, too. And they have friends.

2. Work with your publisher or agent, if you're going the traditional route, to find promotional opportunities. Most publishers have a list of places where they'll send your ARC for review, but develop your own list that caters to your genre. A review from a legitimate review site is golden. It takes time to figure out which sites prefer your type of book, but the end result is worthwhile. If you know that a certain site likes your books, you can keep sending them and rest assured you'll get a good review.

3. Don't turn down any promotional opportunity, however frightening it may be. Participate in local author book signings, get your books in the local library or bookstore, even if you have to carry them in yourself, be on whatever radio show you can find (it's not as scary as it sounds), be interviewed for your local newspaper. A few years ago, USA Today was starting up an on-line presence for romance and asked for folks to help. I raised my hand immediately, and for months afterward, it was my job to find new releases in a specific genre. They since decided not to run the new releases on a daily basis and disbanded the group that was helping, but I made a valuable contact there, which I still use today. (See the coverage on April 6 for my new release.)

4. Join whatever offshoot group you can find that caters to your genre. Within RWA, you have the FF&P chapter for paranormal authors, Hearts Through History for historical authors, RWA Contemporary for, you guessed it, the contemporary author, and so on. Each of these groups provide a wealth of information, new friends to make and ways to get the word out about your upcoming work.

5. Explore the various types of social media and find what works best for you. At a minimum, you need a website and Facebook page, but there are so many other outlets that you could easily spend your entire day on this task alone, instead of writing the next book. Play around with them all, and find what works best for you. Then pick three or four and use them daily.

6. Write the next book! You are only as good as your next one. How's that for pressure?

So today, I'll rest up, work a bit on the next book, and get ready for tomorrow's mayhem, which will stretch out for the next few weeks. You can glimpse where I am all month on the upcoming guest appearance tab of this blog, but here's an idea of what Monday brings.

I've got some gift copies to mail. I want reviews to start showing up on Amazon as well as on Goodreads, so I'll prod my beta readers. I have the BookBub ad running on Monday for another book in the series and hope to take The Duplicitous Debutante into the top 100 for historical romances, if even for an hour. And, I hope while people are there, buying The Duplicitous Debutante, they also will pick up The Forgotten Debutante. But that can't happen with just the ad. I must be active on social media all week, promoting on Twitter, Google +, Pinterest, Facebook, and all the rest. It'll be a fun, exhausting, time.

 

Buy Link: http://amzn.to/1V0b11r

Cover Reveal Time!

I know the cover's been all over Facebook and twitter for days now, but I'm so excited about this book, for a number of reasons.

First, it's the final book in the Cotillion series, but that doesn't mean you've seen the last of the Fitzpatricks. As Julia Quinn has done with her Bridgeton series, I'm taking secondary characters from the original series and writing about them. I may even jump forward and write about the children. So many ideas, so little time.

Second, this has been the only book in my career where I've had to ask for a deadline extension, so I'm doubly glad to see it up on Amazon.

Third, I think the cover is gorgeous. As my adult nephew said, "That's not the kind of woman that would be forgotten!"

So, here's a bit more about this book:

Blurb:

Don’t miss the touching conclusion to the Cotillion Ball Saga!

In 1863, America is war-weary. Fifteen-year-old Saffron Fitzpatrick, whose teenage years have been spent mourning the dead rather than dancing at her debutante ball, just wants to visit her beloved horse after being housebound due to the draft riots. A chance meeting with soldier Ezekiel Boone changes everything.

Three years ago, Ezekiel ran away with his older brothers to join the war effort, welcoming the chance for adventure. But when all four of his brothers die at Chancellorsville, he retreats home, despondent and depending on the kindness of strangers, like Saffron, who help him on the journey. They share a wild ride and a breathless kiss, parting with fond memories.

Fate reunites the couple three years later, and their former attraction rekindles as they discover unexpected common ground and begin to build a relationship. But though the war is over, a future together may still elude them … especially if Saffron’s older, protective brother and the U.S. Army have anything to say about it.

And an excerpt:

New York City

July 15, 1863

Releasing a shallow breath, Saffron Fitzpatrick glided down the stairs on slippered feet, avoiding the creaky spots with unerring accuracy from years of practice. She surveyed the hallway and let out the rest of the air from her lungs. All the servants were still in the basement, preparing the noonday meal. If she hurried, she could escape the house undetected. She ran to the back door, her curls bouncing around her head, and let herself out into the yard.

Heart pounding, she stood, back up against the door, and listened. No frantic footsteps from inside the house meant her break to freedom had gone unnoticed so far.

After two days of being housebound due to the draft riots, Saffron had tired of heeding her father’s warnings to stay indoors. Even though his motives were sound and he was only trying to protect her from the roaming mobs, she would surely perish from boredom if she spent one more moment inside. Although her intent to breathe some fresh air was dashed because the city was foul with smoke from the fires being set around town, she still cherished the freedom of being outdoors. Her skin erupted in goose bumps at her boldness. She cringed back against the door as the distant shouts came closer.

But she had a mission: She needed to see Biscuit. She could certainly get from the family brownstone to the carriage house in their backyard without running into any of the rioters, couldn’t she? Talking to a horse beat staring at her bedroom ceiling. Or reading another boring book. Her intent clear, she pushed herself away from the door and ran to the small building.

            She opened the door to the carriage house. Diffused lighting came through the windows near the roofline, and the cool air was filled with a familiar, comfortable combination of hay, horse dung, and leather. Saffron inhaled the scents as she waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the subdued light. Biscuit nickered a nervous greeting. She tiptoed across the brick floor toward the mare’s stall.

And came to an abrupt halt.

The apples, which Saffron kept in a bucket to dole out to the horse, were all gone. As were the carrots. Someone had been in the carriage house, and possibly still was. She backed toward the door, hoping if she were quiet, whoever was or had been in the carriage house would not notice her. She’d go back to the house and sound an alarm. Then, armed with the servants, she could return and confront whomever was here.

But Biscuit nickered again. If someone was intent on setting fire to the carriage house, Saffron needed to take her horse into the yard first, then call for the servants. She picked up a hayfork and made her way forward, her slippers not making a sound as they moved over the floor. She opened the door to the stall and found what was upsetting her horse, and the answer to why all the good treats were gone. A Union soldier was asleep in the hay next to Biscuit.

One Last Time

Final galleys were delivered this week. If you're a published author, you know what that means. This is the final check to go over your manuscript. Yeah, that one. The manuscript you've labored over for months, the one where you've got parts of it memorized, your baby. Surely since you've gone over it with a fine-tooth comb for months now, run it through your multiple check lists, there can't be anything wrong with it at this late stage. Right?

Wrong!

At the galley stage, you can't alter the timeline or make excessive changes. According to the instructions from my publisher, we can only make changes to typos or very glaring punctuation errors.

Right now, with five chapters left to read, I've found six errors that fit the parameters given by the publisher. Of course, if I could make more severe changes, I would, since we all know a work is never finished.


"The beautiful part of writing is that you don't have to get it right the first time, unlike, say, a brain surgeon. You can always do it better, find the exact word, the apt phrase, the leaping simile."--Robert Cormier

Food for thought.

What stories can you give about proofing your work?

Limitless Possibilities

The final book in my long Cotillion Ball series, The Forgotten Debutante, is at the publisher for edits, finally. While I love my Fitzpatrick family immensely, I'm ready to move on. But move on where?

And by moving on, I don't mean to a different publisher, necessarily. I mean moving on with my writing. Inventing new families for my readers to fall in love with, developing plot lines that are different from the Cotillion series. It's an exciting time for me, with my imagination being the only limitation placed on me.

So where do I move on? I could finish the time travel book, which has been languishing under the bed for years. Hmm, maybe. I could put a spin on a family tale and figure out why my grandmother and her siblings were ridiculed their entire lives for having Indian blood when a DNA test has proved that notion to be false. Hmmm. This tale has been discussed in depth for a number of years with my uncle, my dad's last remaining brother. He has his own version of what happened. And, after finding my great-grandmother's gravesite and realizing that all this time we referred to her as Missouri Belle when she was actually Missouria Belle, the speculation grew to the point where we did some hasty research on the subject. There was a tribe in the Great Lakes back in the early years called the Missouria, which merged with another tribe along the way. Could there have been a morsel of truth to the tale? And if so, how, since my DNA doesn't have a drop of Indian blood?

My mind began to spin in all kinds of directions. Yes, the latter idea proved to be the one with the most potential. I'm going to put an ending on the tale which makes sense. I just hope the Myers and Huffman branches of the family are not upset that I've stolen a leaf from our family tree to craft a story about.

More Time In The Editing Cave

As most of you know, I've been editing and re-editing my manuscript The Forgotten Debutante. It's been going fairly well, but one scene, the Thanksgiving dinner, wasn't coming together as it should have. I had my two females, Saffron and Grace, discuss the menu, make certain the silver was polished and the tablecloth was clean. But then I glossed over the meal altogether. Left it on the proverbial table, as it were.

After thinking about it for a few days, I went back and added in one paragraph about the dinner, and thought I had it fixed. I just reread the section again and I realized my hero, Zeke, was jumping up and down trying to get my attention.

"I want to taste the pie, not just see it, Becky," Zeke yelled at me from across the table. "And what about the mashed potatoes and gravy? Did they just eat themselves?" When he picked up a dinner roll and lobbed it in my direction, I flung my hands in the air.

Okay, okay, Zeke, calm down. I went back to my paragraph about the dinner and added in some actual conversation, referred to the two available pies, and how Zeke could have a slice of both, etc, etc, etc. Finally, Zeke had a full belly and he quit yelling at me.

My dog, Mary, has lately been reacting the same as Zeke. She's decided she likes to cuddle, either with my sister on the couch, or with me in my chair. Since she's a puppy mill rescue dog, she never learned how to jump up on the furniture, so we need to pick her up each time. Picking her up is still a challenge, though, since she needs to be herded into her little bed (not the big one, mind you). But once she's in her safe place, she'll allow us to pick her up, and she'll loll for hours in one place or the other.

A few days ago, she sat quietly with Pat in the morning when I was working. Then, she got up for a potty break, came back in the house, and went to her little bed. I headed for my chair to check my emails. She got out of her bed, stared a hole through me until I looked up from the screen. When she had my full attention she gave a full body sigh, nodded her head in the direction of the bed and walked back to it, ready to be picked up. Thank goodness, there were no dinner rolls in the house.

So I missed Mary's cues, just as I had Zeke's. Time to pull my head away from the computer and pay attention to the folks that matter.

Hopefully, both Zeke and Mary have now been taken care of. I haven't heard either of them yelling at me today.

Artistic Pursuit

The Voice is back on the air, and along with the shenanigans of Blake and Adam we are also witness to Pharell Williams. He's quiet, especially in comparison to the two other men, but he never fails to offer a phrase or two that resonate with me, as they could with any artist.

This time his pearl of wisdom was "Whatever makes you different makes you special."

If you read enough author bios, you'll see most of them say their love affair with words and writing began when they were children. A lot of writers are socially introverted, and prefer to spend their time in their own heads. My sister can always tell when I'm trying to work out a plot line, since I stare into space and my eyes go unfocused. She's learned not to bother me when I'm in this state. It makes me different, and according to Pharell, it makes me special. Who am I to argue?

I'm working on the last book in the Cotillion Ball Series now. I'm nearly done with the sloppy first draft, and I like the story line so far. I've taken a couple workshops recently, which I hope have made me a better writer. And I found a good beta reader who will let me know before the book is published if I'm overusing words, or rushing the story. I hope these developments will elevate me from being "special" and make me "extraordinary."

The Forgotten Debutante will be available in March, 2016.