Hope and Coffee

Sunday morning, and there is not enough coffee to wake me up.

After the past couple days, some good friends on Facebook, and my decision to try self-publishing if I don’t succeed in the traditional route, I feel much better. I am researching self-publishing methods, concerns, etc., right now.

I will have an author’s website (not chatty like this, but to promote writing, events, etc.). I should have one anyway, even if I’m traditionally published.

So I will prepare for the possibility, and even if I get taken in on the traditional route, I will have prepared things that will be needed for that route.

This is what hope does to me. It comes to me in the midst of defeat and illuminates my path — but only for the next few steps. I never know where I’m going past two steps ahead.

But I still desperately need coffee.

Contemplating self-publishing

I have decided that I may self-publish if my efforts to publish traditionally don’t yield any results.

This is a big change, as those of you who have been following the blog would notice. I had been strenuously arguing that self-publishing doesn’t give one the strong incentive to improve and requires a lot of work from the author. I would still argue this, but I have been improving and submitting since 5 years ago, and this is a long time to be getting rejections (about 250 or so).

Then I found that an author I follow has been self-publishing for close on two years after her publisher and her agent dismissed her. This was an author who had three books traditionally published.

It is obvious the industry no longer nurtures its writers. I think this was what I was looking for in a traditional path — some nurturing, because this is all new to me. Not that I would be a victim for fraud — I’m actually good at spotting that. It’s just that I wanted advice and encouragement, and now I know that’s not happening.

So what I’m going to do is let this query run through (I get rejections daily), and I’m going to research the possibility of self-publishing (platforms, where to get cover art, etc.). I might do one more set of queries 6 months from now while I’m working on a plan to brush up my media presence, etc.

We shall see.

How are you doing?

I have readers all over the world, and I’m curious. How are you doing in this pandemic?

Are you isolating?
Are you wearing a mask when you go out in public?
Is your country doing well in fighting back the outbreak?
Are you safe?
Do you have your job?
Are you hanging on?
Are you fighting depression?

I’m doing okay. I’m fighting a bit of something because life lately has been depressing, what with isolation and all. I’m safe at home. I still have my job as a professor, where I have been doing my work online. Just hanging on.

Getting inside Josh

Because I can’t draw my character. Because I can’t post a male nude. Use your imagination here.

I’m still working on Gaia’s Hands, because I don’t have much else to do right now.

I’m trying to get into Josh Beaumont’s (male lead) head so I can develop and write him more fully. This is a challenge for me, because I’m not 1) male, 2) twenty years old, and 3) a mystic. No, scratch 3); I’ve had some nonstandard experiences in my life.

I want to be authentic with the character, especially with his sexuality, which is an important part of what is basically a romance novel at its heart. Josh is pretty normal in that category, except for the fact that the object of his affections is 25 years older. And he’s a virgin. As an older woman, I want to make sure this is realistic (other than the age thing, which happens sometimes) and not personal wish fulfillment.

This isn’t a total problem, because Josh is mature for his age (about 25 emotionally) and I think that comes from his being a mystic. Josh has visions that change the course of his life, and Jeanne has been the star of his visions lately.

So I want to paint Josh as a gentle soul, but with drive. Someone who sublimates drive into poetry. Someone who’s going to finally ask for what he wants when he can’t hold it back anymore.

He’s my project for today. Let’s see where I can go.

On the Verge of Querying Again.

I have minor corrections to do on Whose Hearts are Mountains today, and then I will query the last 30 agents. Wish me luck.

I don’t know what I’m going to do if these last 30 come up empty. Yes, I do. I’m going to query Prodigies (the improved version) in a few months, and start the cycle again.

I feel like a glutton for punishment. But at this point, I have documents as good as I can make them, and I can’t not share them.

Nothing more to say today, but: here’s a cat.

Me-Me, aka “Brussels Sprout”

Writing Gaia’s Hands from Scratch

I think I’m going to start Gaia’s Hands from scratch.

I’ve come to the point where I realize the bones of the book are not sound.The current version of one of the protagonists is not someone typical of men in romances: the 45-year-old cop. A former Navy Seal or Army Ranger. An uber-masculine rancher. A billionaire. In other words, the typical protector of a helpless female. Josh, on the other hand, is a surprise. His non-staid nature is in his writing and his visions. He’s a bit fey, perhaps, but without its twee underpinnings. Instead, he is brave in his emotions and his drive. I need to be less scared in rendering Josh.

There is not enough buildup of the romance part. The book, I’m told, is a romance, given how two characters meet, discover each other, and fall in love. There’s not enough tension. There’s not a big blowout where they’re sure they’re never going to see each other again.

I have not written this book the way it deserves to be written. Jeanne is accomplished, but lonely. Josh is young, but determined. There are all sorts of reasons why they shouldn’t be together, but they’re internalized reasons from dominant culture.

And then there’s the fantasy part. That won’t take too much work — Jeanne’s talent of getting plants to grow + Josh’s attachment to the spirits of Shinto = surprise! In fact, if they develop Jeanne’s talent together, they grow closer. The romance needs to be attached to the accomplishments.

Now … OMG, I have to rewrite this novel. Josh and Jeanne scare me, especially Josh. He’s too close to my fantasies. Yes, I’m an older woman who’s attracted to younger men. And smaller men, too. It’s not like I’m not attracted to my husband, but whereas most women go “wow” when they see Jason Momoa, I say “wow” when I see someone built like a dancer or a lightweight wrestler.

This fear is what kept me from writing this story this deserves.

A Creativity Ritual

I need something to slap my imagination into working.

Life has been pretty staid lately. I’ve already complained about it — the lack of scenery, the lack of creative forces, etc. Time to not complain.

When my editing is over (at least on the current novel, which is three out of four), it’s time to spend some time in creative freefall.

This will involve some sort of ritual — A bubble bath, some rose-scented spray, a candle burning, some fresh paper and fountain pens. Free writing, possibly based on one of the novel ideas (pun intended) I have sitting in a drawer that I haven’t felt passionate about). Possibly based on short story ideas.

I need to do something besides edit, I think. Although I have another novel that needs a rewrite. Maybe I should go there. But I am so, so bored of editing that I think I need a recharge.

But First, Coffee

My summer class (the one I’m taking) hasn’t started yet, and the summer class (the one I’m teaching) is chugging along, so I have time to revise. I’m still working on Apocalypse, and it’s not been very systematic, because I’m almost to the end and I’m thinking of what I should have done Back There. I figure I will finish and go back, making for a long process.

But first, coffee.

Our local coffeehouse (Oh, how I miss the Game Cafe!) delivered two pounds of Oddly Correct’s “Meat and Potatoes”, which is a solid yet somewhat esoteric brew. I have a cup right now, and it’s a blessing during quarantine when we’ve run out of our roasting beans for a few days.

So I will work today, caffeinated, hoping my inspirations will catch hold and I can make Apocalypse even better than it was.

Really fluffy towels

This is the Grotto (spa) at The Elms in Excelsior Springs, MO.
I wish I was there right now.

Editing Apocalypse (for the fortieth time) is a real bear.

One moment I think it’s looking good, the next I know I’m feeling discouraged. I feel I have it all together, and then I think it’s missing something. I forget I’m reading for character and start changing grammar in sentences.

It’s a frustrating time.

I think it may be time to go on to something else. I need to make a poster of my latest research for an online convention poster session. Great idea, I think. My mind is tired of six hours of reading a day. Of course, it will take me at least six hours to do this poster, so …

Sigh. I need to take a break. One that involves a spa and really fluffy towels.

A Slap

So these last few weeks have been a great growth time for my writing. I have revised two out of my four novels (Whose Hearts are Mountains and Prodigies) to give more of a development of character at the beginning instead of barreling into the plot immediately. I am working on a third, Apocalypse for the same, and the fourth, Gaia’s Hands, is going to require a lot of work, especially now that I know it’s a romance novel.

And I would never have known to do this without rejections from agents sending me to developmental editors and beta readers and books about writing. I haven’t been revising just to pay my dues; I really feel like I have a better product because of it.

My mother once told me it took two people to paint a picture: the artist and the person who slaps the artist when they’re done. At this point, I feel like I need a slap. I need someone to read something and tell me if I’m done.

And then, in my next set of queries, what if I don’t get accepted by an agent? What’s next? I have really no idea to be honest. I suspect it will feel like a slap in the face.