A Day of Plotting

My husband and I got to Haven Coffeehouse at a little after 8 this morning; my task for the day was to develop my outline for the latest book a bit more.

Two cups of coffee later, I’m a bit closer. I think it’s going to take place in the Spring, four years after Avatar of the Maker. The point-of-view characters are going to be Tisha, the influencer; her husband Rod, the corporate promotions person; and Gideon, the engineer at Barn Swallows’ Dance.

Things I need to remember: The children just born in Avatar are now four years old; Bergeron the cat is about the same age. (Bergeron the cat is an important plot point as he is going to be the representative of the non-standard reality of the place). Tom is still the general manager; Leah is now a vet tech and well on her way to be a vet.

Tisha and Rod are 27 and 33 respectively. Their age difference is going to be important when it comes to how they get along; Rod tends to be a little condescending to Tisha, and this is going to become a point of conflict.

Other important people (besides those named in the above paragraphs) are Jeanne and Josh, as keepers of the Garden; Amarel, as the most obvious (to them) ‘difference’, and Luke, as the lawyer.

And of course, Barn Swallows’ Dance is one of the characters. It’s ’nonstandard reality’ is going to be the invisible elephant in the room — “What elephant? I don’t see an elephant.”

This needs to be plumped out a bit more, but I can see the bones. Sort of.

Good News on the Writing Front

I will release Reclaiming the Balance on January 1, 2025 as I had hoped. My sensitivity reader came through and I fixed all issues (mostly proofreading!) The book is now in the hands of KDP (Amazon’s self-publishing arm) and ready to release.

Reclaiming the Balance is in the Hidden in Plain Sight series, book 3. Janice Wilkens escapes from an abusive, non-human Archetype boyfriend. She takes refuge at Barn Swallows’ Dance, a haven for those who don’t fit ordinary reality. Amarel Stein, an androgynous half-human Nephilim, challenges her about her own Nephilim son. They plot to rescue her son from the boyfriend’s clutches and fight prejudice against the Nephilim at Barn Swallows’ Dance. Their success depends on their working together and giving up their preconceived notions of reality.

I don’t know if it’s clear from the description, but it’s contemporary romantasy, closed-door (not spicy), and very much a story for this time.

A New Project!

I think I have a new project to write. I was going mad dealing with no motivation for writing more short stories, having written three this summer.

I will write the sequel to Kel and Brother Coyote Save the Universe, which is a serial novel on Kindle Vella. In Kel and Brother Coyote, the shipper for hire Kel Beemer gets hired by the monk Brother Coyote. She gives him three rules before agreeing to the hire — no passengers, no politics, and no restricted planets. Brother Coyote, however, breaks all three rules within fifteen minutes. They embark on an adventure that involves a plot to conquer a beauty planet, a psychic symbiont, and the two’s pasts intertwined.

The serial can be found here.

I’m not sure where I’m going to go with this, but I’m going on a writing retreat this weekend! I will spend my writing time hashing out the basic plot and other fine points; it looks like Broadway Coffee in Kansas City will be the venue.

Two days in a van did not yield any inspiration. However, a couple new developments in my writing life occurred, one good, one bad.

The bad first: A submission of mine on Submittable was rejected. I’m not surprised; I haven’t been able to find this particular story a home. Maybe it’s not a good story. I like it, but I consider myself a proud mom of what might just be an unlikeable kid. I get lots of rejections as a writer; I keep trying.

The good development: my niece is working on the sketches for the cover of my latest novel, Reclaiming the Balance, and it is coming along nicely. Looks like I have no excuses for not publishing it this January.

I don’t know a single writer who doesn’t have imposter syndrome (Ok, I know one who appears not to; he’s insufferable). We all take rejections hard, and when facing success, we feel like we don’t deserve it. I’m not sure why the insecurities but they seem like a universal.

I will keep on plugging, keep on editing the novels I have in reserve, and keep on waiting for inspiration for some short stories.

Re-editing Some Books

My task for the last couple of days has been to re-edit two books I hope to publish by the beginning of the new year. I just got done re-editing Reclaiming the Balance, which is the book I am wrestling with publishing on January 1st. I’m wrestling with it because it’s one of my Hidden in Plain Sight books, and those aren’t selling like I’d like. I have distributed many free copies of the first book, Gaia’s Hands, as part of BookFunnel promotions, and I don’t know that they’ve yielded too many sales. It’s the burden of being an indie author, not knowing how to market my books. Reclaiming is also an unusual book, where the primary romance is between an artist and a truly androgynous half-human.

Today I’m re-re-editing Kringle Through the Snow, which will go out on October 1 (just in time for WalMart to put out their Christmas decorations.) I have little to change in this; three chapters so far, and I have changed two words. I can’t tell if it’s boredom or anxiety making me go through these stories again.

I might just be killing time. All I have between now and my trip out to New York on the 30th is making some prosthetic impalements for moulage. (Think ripped and charred wood glued to discs for adhesion onto skin). I’m all set up for classes this fall, and I have time to feel like I really have a summer vacation. Or I might be coming to terms with the realization that all I can do is be the best writer I can and hope I get the hang of promotion.

Death and Stories

I haven’t written for a while. My father died a week ago on Thursday, and I feel so tired. I don’t understand it because my dad was 86, and I’m almost 60. It’s not a shocking death. I wake up every morning from nightmares that seem to have nothing to do with my dad, and then I realize there will be no fresh stories about my dad. There will be the old stories, and that’s it.

I haven’t cried for my father. I didn’t cry for my mother either. When my father figure, Les, died, I didn’t cry either. Or when my best friend Celia died. I seem pretty stoic in the face of death, unless I am asleep and my mind explores the afterlife.

Most of the time, I don’t believe in any afterlife. (This does not mean I don’t believe in a Divine Presence.) If there’s an afterlife, we are swirling energies in the universe that — um, contribute to the Akashic records? Sing the music of the spheres? I don’t think we lived this life as humans so that we could live as humans somewhere else.

When someone close to me dies, however, I want to believe in that paradise, and I clutch to myself the imagery of a big old house and a party where all the people I have ever been fond of show up. There are joyful reunions, even between those who have never met. We fill the house with hugs and laughter.

I go to the kitchen to help cook because I feel overwhelmed by the noise and the hugs; it’s something I often do. I turn to the woman cooking — she’s tall and bountiful — and ask if I can help cook. “No, go out there. It’s your party.” As I go out, I realize that it’s everyone’s party, because this is Heaven and this is God.

I fear death. Not the inevitable emptiness itself; I worry about the knowledge just before one dies, the certainty that there will be no next minute, no stories to tell. Yet it’s the only scenario that stands up after examination, after questions of “Who gets admitted in?” and “Aren’t they going to get bored?” That and the humanized energies scenario discussed above.

We die and are returned to ash. Our stories live beyond us, until those carriers, too, die. This is what makes me cry.

Under the Weather — Time for a Free Write

Under the Weather
I’m feeling decidedly under the weather (literally — this weather is weighing on me) and uninspired. Not a good thing for a daily blog. I’m writing this because I know I have to write something or else I will fall away from writing the blog after 1000-some posts. And that will really depress me.

Free Writing
So I’m going to use this as a free writing exercise. In free writing exercises, you put your pen down on paper (or fingers on the keyboard) and you just write without editing. It’s a great way to come up with ideas.

Here goes:
Brother Coyote and Kel are returning the twins (Kira and Nala) to Ridgeway III, a restricted planet. Thus what Kel is doing is borderline illegal, just as Coyote’s leaving ridgeway III was illegal. Nonetheless, he’s going on a walkabout of sorts with Kel, offering his uncanny talent of opening wormholes to her shipping business.

One of the interesting problems they will meet with arriving at Ridgeway III is Coyote’s mother, the Convener of the Moot (i.e. Prime Minister). Coyote’s mother is a charismatic, expansive person who thinks Coyote and Kel are a good match. Given that they’ve just met and they get along like cats and dogs, she’s sorely mistaken. Probably.

Ridgeway III is a closed world through their own choice — they don’t want their beauty planet defiled by commerce, and they’re a bit edgy about how outsiders will take their occasional inborn talents — of which Coyote’s talents are an extreme example. But Coyote is their test case, and Kel and Coyote have to keep his talent under wraps out in space.

Reflection
Note how the free writing isn’t that organized. That’s okay; it will still make a good start of a story. I hadn’t gotten these ideas hashed out on paper; now I feel more anchored to what this story will flow like.

A Glimpse at my Novels (Literary Works)

Are you curious about what I’ve written?

I casually mention in this blog that I’ve written five novels and am working on getting an agent and getting published. I very seldom talk about what I’ve written. So here’s a list of my novels with synopses.

I will cover the ones that exist in the same universe first, in chronological order.

Gaia’s Hands

The odd couple of Jeanne Beaumont, biologist, and Josh Young, writer, follow a threat to Jeanne’s livelihood and a path of their own awakening talents. After calling forth a miracle at the collective Barn Swallows’ Dance, they must fight the conspirators who would destroy it — and possibly their lives.

Apocalypse

Laurel Smith, a woman without a past, works as a laborer at the ecocollective Barn Swallows’ Dance, unaware of her part in a 6000-year-old myth. Adam Lee is an immortal Archetype who holds the patterns which allow Han Chinese men to survive. He’s been sent on a mission to help Laurel find her legacy and bring her memories back.

An army assembles to kill Laurel to collect on a millennia-long vendetta. Laurel’s memory loss isn’t an accident, though, and three dangerous Archetypes more ancient than even Adam are determined to keep her in the dark. If Adam and Laurel can’t collect enough allies to stop the approaching army, they will build an army to wipe out all women on Earth, and with them, all future generations of humans.

Prodigies

Grace Silverstein, an eighteen-year-old viola prodigy, flies to Poland to participate in an international assembly of prodigies. However, her hosts have hidden their plans to coerce the prodigies under a flimsy mask of hospitality. Grace’s new friend and fellow prodigy Ichirou can influence people’s emotions with his computer graphics, and they figure out that his talent is what their hosts want to capture. Grace smuggles him out of the country with the help of his chaperone and her mysterious accomplice, but their escape has not gone unnoticed.

Back in the US and under pursuit, Grace discovers her own talent of manipulating emotions through her beloved music. The chase continues as both foreign agents and Homeland Security close in on Grace and her compatriots, who uncover a terrorist plot by the prodigy organization. Grace can keep herself and her friends safe if she never reveals her gift but exposing her talent could save many more lives. Making the right decision while avoiding capture may be the hardest thing Grace has ever done—and could have long-lasting effects on the entire world.

Whose Hearts are Mountains

In Whose Hearts are Mountains, Annie Smith escapes the smoking ruins of her university and heals in a remote Canadian town, where she hears stories about a fair folk who help humans and then disappear. These tales resonate with the stories her mother told her as a child, and she seizes the opportunity to research the spread of these tales – until she comes home to find that the United States has crumbled under sectarian turmoil.

Annie chases the stories through a drastically changed landscape, and begins to experience unsettling dreams and strange phenomena. The stories lead to an oasis in the middle of the desert and a people who present mysteries. Pieces click together, and Annie finds out that her identity is tied in with the tales and with a frightening act of terrorism that only they can stop.

This next one is not in the same universe as the others:

Voyageurs

Ian Akimoto, Traveller, jumps through time from the environmental catastrophe called the Chaos to 2015 Kansas City to help Kat Pleskovich, time-jumping daredevil, solve the mystery of who wants to kill her mentor. Soon their own lives are in danger as they piece together clues involving everything from time physics and falsified records to multiple Kats and gruesome deaths in Kat’s daredevil game Voyageurs.

Their search reveals that a rogue time traveller broke the timeline at crucial points with a goal of winning Voyageurs with the greatest stunt of all – destroying humanity. Kat and Ian must decide whether to risk their lives toward setting the future right.

Enjoy and give me feedback!

If you have suggestions for synopses or just want to comment on the storylines, please let me know! My email is lleachie@gmail.com.

On My Way Back Home

I’m spending my last couple hours at Starved Rock sitting in front of the fireplace in the Great Hall, soaking up the atmosphere. It has been a good vacation despite my frustrations borne of childhood issues temporarily clouding my perception.

I need to get back to writing. This will be easily cured by a big project in the form of my developmental edit of Whose Hearts are Mountains. The frustration, though, is that I don’t have any ideas on the back burner, neither short story nor novel. I don’t like feeling so tenuous about my attachment to writing.

I need to have a resolution that I will write two hours a day once more. It’s been a while since I’ve spent that much time — no, I take that back; I was writing/editing four hours a day cleaning up Whose Hearts are Mountains in November.

Does anyone have any story ideas I can play around with?

Happy 56th birthday to me

Today I’m 56 years old.

This is not me. This is Belvedere the kitten, who’s 4 days old

For you younger people out there — time just chugs along and you hardly notice it until you get to one of those milestone years — 40, 50, 55. You’re too fixated on things like careers and children to wake up and think, “wow, I’m getting older.”

The grey hairs, the wrinkles, the thickening of the body come gradually, until you look in the mirror and see someone who looks older than you remember being.

You don’t even notice that the cultural touchstones — the music stars, the memes and jokes — flow and change around you, and you wake up one morning to find that the younger people around you don’t get your jokes anymore.

But you’ve survived so much! Everyday events that would panic you before — a flat tire, sleeping through the alarm — you now handle with aplomb. Your fears that you can’t handle crises have been proven wrong time after time.

And you have stories to tell. Middle age (late middle-age?) is a great time to start writing. Or find friends who like to tell stories and swap them.

When you’re older, you have the perspective of years, and that is your gift to the world.