Going away...

Folks, I have updated my blog and am now going to be posting exclusively to the blog at www.tlhaddix.com. Just click on the blog link that is on the main page, and you'll find me there. If you are following this blog, hopefully that will transfer (if the internet gremlins are busy elsewhere). Please let me know if you have issues getting the blog by emailing me through the website. Thanks for reading!

Crawling into the hole

For some reason, writing book two has been like pulling eye teeth for me. I can't seem to get into the groove of writing, and with a hard deadline fast approaching, this is starting to wear on me. As I was driving around today doing some errands, I was thinking about the next few chapters that have to be written, and it occurred to me that I might be putting off writing this next section because of where I have to go with it mentally.

In the first book, Secrets in the Shadows, there were certainly dark passages but, for the most part, the characters didn't fall inside that darkness for an extended period. Book two is completely different. In 'Under the Moon's Shadow', some very bad things - traumatic things - happen to the heroine. She goes through some very rough trials emotionally and physically, and in order to accurately represent the pain, anger and disillusionment she experiences, I have to be able to go down that rabbit hole with her. Normally I don't think I would have an issue doing that, but I just managed to crawl out of that miasma of depression and anger myself. I have no desire to go back and visit so soon. Without going into tremendous detail, I had a very painful change, a loss, in my family unit last summer, and it sent me reeling. It was something that was completely unexpected, and I was unprepared to deal with it. Thank God for my husband and three close friends who patiently saw me through it and supported me. In any event, I don't think I really started pulling myself out of the mire until around Easter, and things just were better one day. I was driving down the road listening to the Foo Fighters' "Times Like These" and it occurred to me that the song was right on. The lyric goes "It's times like these, you learn to live again" and though I had listened to that song hundreds of times, I heard it that day differently than I had before. I realized then that everything would be okay, and I was so happy to finally be able to move past my anger and grief and return once again to the cheerful, somewhat optimistic person I normally am. Now, facing these next few chapters, I'm not looking forward to revisiting that place, those emotions. I know I have to though, if I want this book to be as real and believable as it should be.

Part of the reason I write is to share experiences with people and hopefully help them see a different perspective, a different way of looking at similar problems they might be having. Okay, hopefully none of my readers have had shops vandalized or have been chased by crazed family members, but I know the emotional issues my characters deal with are issues that affect thousands, if not millions of people, every day. If I can get a message through to one person who is suffering similarly, and that message changes that person's life for the better, then I've done my job. That is why it is so important to me to get it right, to present this turmoil in a realistic way and have the characters deal with issues realistically.

I suppose when it is all said and done, fear is what is holding me back - the fear that if I crawl into the hole with my heroine, I won't be able to pull us back out. It is an irrational fear - I know intellectually that I'll be safe. Now I just have to convince my emotional self that it is so.

A new free short story - Granny Theft Auto

Here's a sneak peek at my latest short offering, Granny Theft Auto. For those of you who've read Secrets In The Shadows, some of the names may be familiar. You can find this at Smashwords at this link: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/16885 and it is absolutely FREE. Happy reading!

Granny Theft Auto
by T. L. Haddix
Copyright 2010

It wasn’t the first time she had stolen something, but it was by far her most serious offense. When she was a little girl, the much-neglected youngest of six children, it had been her way of getting attention. As Reba Cooper stood on the sidewalk that day admiring one of the shiny, new Smart cars the city of Leroy had purchased for its tiny police force, she smiled. The shape of the car reminded her of a baby’s sneaker and, loaded with gadgets, gizmos and antennae as this model was, more than anything else in the world it put her in mind of those remote-controlled cars her son had loved so much when he was a child. She eased up to stand beside the car, looking around before reaching one tentative hand out and running it down the curve of the frame along the windshield. Wistfully, she thought of all the places she could go with her own vehicle. It was a small car, hardly noticeable, she told herself, and as she fantasized about the adventures she could have in a car like this one, she started to get that tingle creeping up her spine. Reba sucked in a breath, hardly daring to breathe as the possibility solidified into wicked thought, and her lips turned up into a naughty smile. She almost dismissed the idea out of hand but at the last moment something stopped her, and before she knew it, she was glancing around carefully to see if anyone was watching. The car itself was parked just inside an alley across from the courthouse, out of the direct line of sight, windows rolled down. Reba could see that the keys were in the ignition, and with a tiny twinge of guilt, she decided that it wouldn’t hurt anything to just sit down in the car for a moment or two.

She carefully lifted the door handle and opened the door, turning her body casually and easing down into the driver’s seat. Sitting her purse in the passenger seat, she closed the driver’s door and looked around the passenger cabin with all the joy of a child who had been taken into a toy store for the first time. There were all kinds of buttons, gadgets, bells and whistles. Reba touched them lightly, carefully, not wanting to accidentally push anything. She jumped as the police radio crackled and an unintelligible voice spoke, apparently the dispatcher looking for the driver of the car she was sitting in. She reached for her purse, ready to jump out of the car, but as a second voice came over the radio she relaxed, smiling. The second voice had been clear, and had belonged to Officer Gary Collins who, conveniently, told the dispatcher that he was having lunch and would be several more minutes before he could respond to the Mayor’s call. Reba glanced at her watch and saw that she had time to take the little car for a drive if she wanted, and oh, how badly she wanted.

It's a Small, Small World

My husband and I attended an author forum tonight - our first. It was held at Destination Booksellers in New Albany, Indiana, and featured three authors from Black Wyrm Publishing, a Louisville, Kentucky-based publisher. The evening’s topic was Characterization in Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Horror, and it was both enlightening and entertaining. There were five authors scheduled to attend, but due to illness only three were present. Those who were on hand for the discussion were Ian Harac, William Levy and Marge Fulton. Of the three, I was familiar with two, but not in the way one might assume.

A few weeks ago while at Grinny Possum, the friendliest yarn and fiber store in Southern Indiana, I had the opportunity to meet Mrs. Ian Harac and discuss writing with her. A very nice lady who has a phenomenal skill with all things yarn, she had mentioned her husband’s writing. I found it interesting, but as Sci-Fi is not my genre, I didn’t pursue his work. Imagine my surprise at finding out he was one of the featured authors at tonight’s forum!

The second author with whom I was familiar is Marge Fulton, although I cannot say I had read any of her works, either. Marge is not a native but has, for the past 20 years, lived in my hometown of Hazard, Kentucky. She is a prolific artist, and her first published work, “All Roads Lead to Hazard” had been mentioned on a couple of forums from the region that I frequent. Her latest book, “The Holler”, is a compilation of horror short stories based in Appalachia. It is now on my ‘to be read’ list, and I look forward to delving into it.

I had not heard of Mr. William Levy, and since his work is mainly Sci-Fi, I probably won’t read his works, but I did find him a very interesting, articulate speaker, and found several of the points he made this evening to be worthy of note.

This was the first time we had set foot in Destinations, and I must say I was impressed. It was by no means a fly-by-night operation. It was small, yes, but had an amazing selection of books, as well as a great café in the back, which I do not believe serves food any more but has an extensive selection of drinks available. The shop itself was clean, neat and cozy, and definitely a place I will visit in the future. I’ve been meaning to reach out to them and ask if they would like to carry Secrets, but I’ve been intimidated by the thought. I won’t be quite so hesitant now, although it will still take a little bit of courage to take that step.

I realize after evenings like this just how much I’ve missed out on by staying in the house most of the time. I’m not a social butterfly by any far stretch of the imagination and my husband makes me look positively extroverted, but I do enjoy events such as the one we attended this evening. I think we need such interactions for growth, and folks, my growth is stunted! Some of the reclusiveness has been intentional, some has not, but one of the lessons I took away from this event was that I have to get out there, not just online but in the real world, and expand my horizons. As my husband likes to remind me, not many people are flesh-eating zombies, and if we do run into one, we can probably out run them.

Balance

I haven’t posted in a while. We’ve been busy just enjoying the weather and not having to kill ourselves to get the house ready to put on the market. I’ve been reading a lot lately, and in all honesty, I should really be writing instead. Normally I would read 3-5 books per week, but since I started writing, I’ve tried to not read as much so that I wouldn’t lose track of my own thoughts. However, reading has been a lifelong habit, and I’m finding it hard to set that aside right now. During the last two months of working on ‘Secrets In The Shadows’, I probably only read about 10 books. I guess I’m making up for lost time now. Add to the desire to read that book two is just giving me fits and it does not add up to be a picture of productivity.

The learning process continues, and I’m finding that taking time each day for promotion and networking is as time-consuming as the actual writing process. As I go on this path, I am certain that I will learn better time management skills, so I’m not going to flog myself overmuch right now. That is definitely one of the more positive aspects of traditional publishing that I can see - having someone to do promotion for the author. I’m enjoying it, though - making the connections, joining discussions. It’s educational and fun, and I’m learning the tricks of the trade, so to speak.

I keep coming across folks who have read SITS, and I’ve still yet to encounter someone who didn’t like it. I can also say with complete honesty that 99% of the people who’ve read it are looking forward to book two. I am eager, as well - I don’t know where Beth and Ethan are going to end up, although I have an idea of where I’d like to see them, and I’m anxious to see how their journey ends. Will they end up together or not? I don’t know at this point. Their relationship certainly has not been an easy one, but hopefully they will end up happy…whomever they end up with.

I must say that, although I’ve not spent nearly as much time writing lately as I should, the ideas do keep coming. I think part of the problem with book two is that I spent too much time while writing SITS thinking about book two and, having lived with these characters for the better part of a year now, I’m a little bored and ready to move on. It’s a bit of a catch-22 situation - because I’m tired I’m having trouble focusing on the storyline, and the story won’t be finished and I can’t move on until I write it.

There is a balance to be found in this job - and I do think of it as a job, one that I love doing. Balancing the time used to create and promote, balancing how far I delve into the next story before I finish the one I’m working on…I’ve set some high goals for myself, and I’m satisfied that I can accomplish them. Like everything else, however, it just takes time.

Testing for Amazon

Trying to figure out how to link this blog with my Amazon author page.

Confluence

This is the first part to a short story that I wrote to be turned into a short comic book. My husband will take it and turn it into a comic book script and then one of our friends, Steven Doty, will take our words and make them into comic book art. As I'm not really sure when this will be published and it could be a while, I thought you might like to read part of Confluence now, though. The rest of the story can be found at Smashwords free of charge - just follow this link. http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/15921


Confluence

Morgan wouldn’t stay. I had known that since I met him and still I had to ask. I hated myself for that weakness but I couldn’t stop myself. He kept his back turned to me, shoulders stiff. As he settled his hat on his head, he turned so that I could see his jaw for just an instant. Rock-hard and clenched. He hadn’t wanted to be with me because he had known it would lead to this moment. Pulling his long coat off the rack, he sighed. He knew he had to turn one last time to look at me. To leave without a backwards glimpse was more than unforgivable - it was insulting, and Morgan was never insulting. I sat up on the bed, sheets pulled up around me as I waited for his goodbye. I was surprised to find there were no tears inside me - they were dried up, leaving an empty shell behind. I spoke first.

“You’ll never find what you’re looking for out there, Morgan. We both know that,” I told him. He turned at that and the hard, bleak stare he sent my way would have broken my heart if it hadn’t already been shattered. He stood at the door, ready to leave and unable to do so. He couldn’t speak because there were no words. Pulling the sheet loose and wrapping it around myself, I forced myself to get out of bed and go to him. I stood in front of him for a long minute before rising up on my toes and kissing him full on the mouth, a lingering, poignant kiss. We both knew there would be consequences for what we had done. His would be leaving his heart behind, a piece of his soul forever ripped out and left to wither. Mine would be the looks, the whispers, the outright stares and pointed fingers. I would hold my head high in public, cry in private, and he would die trying to drink away the memories. We were it for each other, and we both knew it. There would be no chance at happily ever after for us. There never had been. Not in this lifetime.

Morgan pulled me to his chest, a desperate and lonely gesture. Futile, because we both knew he had already let me go. Slowly the grip of his hands eased and he turned around. Opening the door, he walked through it and pulled it closed behind him. He never looked back.

This is How Far....

As I previously mentioned, when I was 11 years old, I was on a quest - I had to find all the volumes of the Trixie Belden Mystery Series. Even back then, I realized the importance of reading an entire series, and I was hungry to read all of this particular series. Though I haven’t read one in years, I still look back at that series with fondness. While the Nancy Drew series was good, somehow the Trixie Belden series appealed to me more. Trixie wasn’t polished - as a matter of fact, she was known to be quite the tomboy. Also, she was younger than Nancy, came from an upper middle class family that didn’t have a lot of discretionary income and was just generally speaking, someone I could more readily identify with. I’ll get back to those books someday - just to re-read and see what I think of them as an adult. There were 39 of those books, and I did manage to collect them all eventually… and after one rather harrowing experience.

During the same trip to Lexington, Kentucky during which my Mom called and asked the largest book store in the state if they sold books, my older cousin (18 and had a car, thank you very much) was gracious and kind enough to take me to one of the downtown used bookstores that had copies of a few of the volumes I was missing. I don’t remember exactly which bookstore this was, though I suspect it may have been Glover’s, but it was very close to (if not on) the UK campus. Though it was the middle of summer, classes were in session and parking was at a premium. For that reason, we had to park (as best I remember) something like 11 blocks away from the bookstore. Did I mention that it was summer? And that it was nearly 100 degrees outside? Uh-huh.

The walk to the bookstore was great - I was excited, and we went in, got my books, made me a happy, happy girl. The walk back to the car? Not so great. My cousin, God bless him, didn’t think about making sure I stayed hydrated or cooled down, and by the time we got back to his car, I was literally on the verge of heat exhaustion. My aunt’s house was probably 15 minutes from downtown, and I was still gray and horribly nauseated by the time we got back there. He rushed me inside and turned me over to his mom and mine, and I assume they got me something cold and slowly cooled me down, as I survived  . It had to have scared him to death, poor kid - he was just a teenager, after all.

So what is the answer to the question of how far an 11-year-old will go to get books she wants? To the point of having heat exhaustion, or 11 blocks in 98 degree weather without water or air conditioning. Another important question - was it worth it? Hmmm… looking back as an adult I would say absolutely not. I still have trouble tolerating heat to this day, possibly because of that episode. (No, I don’t blame my cousin - he didn’t know any better than I did.) However, at the time I shrugged off the heat exhaustion as part of the price I paid for getting some good books. It was an experience, for sure, and a fond (believe it or not) memory. I absolutely wouldn’t do it again, but I surely did enjoy those books. Of course, these days I have the internet, so I would probably just order the books, and that is likely what most folks would do these days. I have to wonder, though, if they’ll have that same fondness when they look back years from now?

How Far Would You Go For A Good Book?

Once upon a time when I was about 11 years old, I was obsessed with the Trixie Belden mystery series. They are books written for young adults, similar to the original Nancy Drew mysteries and contemporaries of same. Now, while these books were still in print at the time, I lived in little ol’ Hazard, Kentucky, and there were no bookstores in that town save the Christian bookstore that only sold - wait for it - Christian books. No heathen, hell-bound teeny bopper fiction there, no sirree! However, all hope was not lost as I had an aunt who lived in Lexington, Kentucky, where they not only had a bookstore, they had several bookstores. Large bookstores, small ones, used, eclectic - ah, the joys of a large college town.

When summer approached, I headed down the Mountain Parkway with my Mom, on our way to visit my aunt. I was so very, very excited. As soon as we got there, I grabbed the monstrously huge Lexington phone book and sat down to make a list of all the bookstores. Now, in order for you to understand how ‘huge’ the Lexington, Kentucky phone book was, consider that the Hazard, Kentucky phone book is the size (or was at the time) of a Reader’s Digest. No, seriously. They’re that small. Lexington’s phone book at the time was about the size of the Louisville Yellow Pages.

I made my list and handed it to Mom, who looked at me and asked what I wanted her to do with it. “Call them for me,” I said. “See if they have the books I need.” I had been very fortunate in being able to find the first 12-14 or so at the Perry County Library. One of the ladies who worked there, Rhonda, owned the books and wanted to get rid of them. Those came home with me, yes indeedy. However, there were several more volumes in the series that I didn’t have and was determined to get, thus one of our goals on this visit to my aunt’s. Finally convincing Mom to make the call after much wheedling, cajoling and flat out whining, I stood by anxiously with pen and paper in hand while she made the call. I was simply too shy, too afraid they would laugh at me if I called, so Mom was relegated to do the deed. First on the list was Joseph-Beth Booksellers. For those of you not familiar with JB, they are the largest bookstore in the state of Kentucky. The store in Lexington was their flagship store, and now they have several other locations, but even back then in the late 1980s, they were HUGE. Mom dialed the number, waited while it rang…and then it happened. It went something like this:

“Joseph Beth,” said the person who answered the phone. (I’m guessing that is what they said, based on Mom’s response.)

“Do you sell books?” asked Mom while MORTIFIED 11-year-old daughter sank to floor, certain to die from embarrassment within moments or years, whichever was more tortuous. My mother had just asked the BIGGEST bookstore in the ENTIRE STATE of Kentucky if they sold books. Of course, 11-year-old logic dictated that they would know exactly who we were. Uh-huh. Caller ID hadn’t been invented yet. They were psychics, wink, wink, nod, nod.

Pause on other end of line. “Yes, ma’am, we do sell books,” says confused sales person. I managed to pull myself together long enough to give Mom the list of books I was looking for, and she checked off the ones they had, asking them to hold them for us. (Okay, guess they did find out who the odd lady was that had called, after all.)

Unfortunately for me, they didn’t have all the books I wanted, so more bookstores had to be called. Want to hazard a guess at how quickly I grabbed that list and did the task myself? I didn’t think so at the time, but that has become one of my fondest memories. I am sure that she got a big kick out of it, and though she swore up and down that she didn’t do it on purpose, I have to wonder…

Stayed tuned for part II of “How Far….” and I’ll let you know just how far an 11-year-old will really go for a good book.

You Stab My Back, I’ll Stab Yours

Recently I’ve encountered this sort of behavior in several places, both personally and publicly, and it troubles me. No, it sickens me. Don’t we all have something better to do with our time? Here’s the public part of the story…

In one of the forums on which I regularly participate, there has been a raging debate as to whether or not there is a bias toward or against certain posters by the forum's moderators. As I have only posted on this forum for a few short months and am not entirely familiar with its history, I cannot say for certain, but I feel there probably are legitimate complaints in the mix. Here is an example of what may happen. One of the most prolific posters on the forum is a nice lady, if somewhat - well, gosh. I have to say that she's a little rabid in posting and expounding her beliefs. There is nothing wrong with defending your positions and ideals, but when you deliberately start flaming hot topics (such as that of abortion or the existence of God) with the sole purpose of entrapping a person who doesn't agree with you and then turning on them, that is a more than a little underhanded. It smacks of high school when the popular girls would pretend to be friends with the less than popular, turning against them at some pivotal, embarrassing point just to get a few laughs. I like the rabid poster, to a degree. I have corresponded with her privately, both about issues she has brought up and other things. Most of the time we are on the same side of issues, although I don’t agree with her style of debating her viewpoints. I don’t think she sees what she does as trying to start trouble, but more that she truly believes she is doing what is right. I know this because I've had other people like her turn to me after decimating someone for having a differing view and say "See, I told you. Wasn't I right?" Their righteousness is more important to them than humbling themselves to someone they have offended. They would rather know they were right than to consider there might be another opinion besides their own. If by some miracle they deign to concede they might have been wrong, they leave no doubt in the process by which they do so that they aren’t truly sorry for any damage they might have done. The person to whom the offense has been issued should have known what they meant to say in the first place, so once again, it really was all the other person’s fault. Just for the record, the lady I referenced above isn’t the only rabid poster on the forum. She is, though, the most prolific.

In any event, getting back on topic. While most of the moderators of this forum truly attempt to be neutral, some don't. The people like the rabid poster know this and take full advantage of it. They manage to slip in under the radar, phrasing their attacks just so that they don’t get warned, but still sliding that knife of betrayal into the ribs of their prey. The prey defends itself angrily and is slapped down by the biased moderators, causing the prey to defend itself in such a way that the neutral moderators have no choice but to intervene. As a result, the prey feels hammered upon without an outlet for which to voice its opinion, and the rabid poster feels triumphant, their confidence stronger that they will be able to start any topic and attack any dissenter with immunity.

Don’t get me wrong here - the prey isn’t always the innocent, injured party. Sometimes the prey is just as determined and underhanded as the rabid poster to get their jabs in, using whatever means they have at their disposal. They also play the game well, and in some cases seem to get as much a kick out of causing trouble as the rabid poster. When they could come back with a less aggressive, more tactful response, they post comments that they know will be inflammatory, and the thread is off and running, quickly devolving into a free-for-all. They do this in order to demonstrate just how biased the moderators must be, crying about unfair treatment when they accomplish exactly what they knew would happen. Brings us back to the “See, I told you so,” moment.

The end result of all this fighting is that the rabid poster and the prey both sit back from their keyboards, satisfied, gloating, happy to have caused turmoil, unable to see that they have caused possible irreparable damage to the forum. Visitors will only see that there is no respect for fellow posters, no intelligent discussion of relevant or irrelevant topics, and no reason to participate since, as their views fall along one side or another, they don’t want to be attacked personally like the others have been. The true prey, the ones who are attacked but not defended, whose voices ask for nothing more than fair treatment, are left sickened and saddened by not being defended, for being that unpopular kid whom everyone laughs at and no one comforts. They slink away to lick their wounds, coming back a little more cynical and bitter, if they come back at all.

If the topics on this forum were discussed in the “real world”, probably 75% of what gets said and the way it is said would never make it past a thought. Most of the posters, rabid and prey alike, would never approach strangers in public or private and attack their beliefs the way they do on the forum. It is one of the most freeing aspects of an internet-based community, and also one of the saddest.

The back-stabbing behavior does not stop at the borders of the community forum. No, it extends to social networking sites such as Facebook, MySpace and the like, perhaps allowing people to be more honest than they normally would be, not fully realizing that making their comments could hold repercussions. They either don’t expect the people they discuss to find out about their comments, or they don’t care. The internet has stripped away a layer of civility that most people didn’t realize was there - for better or worse. I know it is human behavior, but my question is this - why can’t we all just get along? If you don’t like someone, fine - don’t like them. Don’t associate with them. Don’t try to deliberately bait them, make them say something you can use against them. Don’t fall to that level. Don’t we all have better things to do than run around and be petty, saying hurtful things just to see what happens?

My Recent Reads...

I've always been an avid reader, reading a minimum of two books per week and an average of four per week for probably the past, well gosh, 29 years of my life! (I'm 34, if you were wondering.) Since I started writing, however, I've read less than ever, as I don't want to 'contaminate' my mind with other authors' works. There have been days when I wanted nothing more than to sit down and read a book, especially if it was one I had been waiting for from one of my favorite authors, but I used all my willpower and strength to resist until after I had reached a particular goal in my writing.

Now that I've started book two, I've had a few days here and there where I have been able to sit down and read, and I thought I would share the thoughts on what I've read recently. Here goes:

"The Girl Who Chased the Moon" Sarah Addison Allen. First off, I will read anything this woman writes. She has a true gift, the ability to make the ordinary seem magical, and the magical to seem ordinary and enchanting at the same time. This is her third book, "Garden Spells" and "The Sugar Queen" being the first two, and it did not disappoint. I would dearly love to see these books made into movies, not just because they are charming books, but because they would be suitable for families. There is romance, but it isn't vulgar. The characters aren't perfect, but their flaws enhance them instead of detract. For me it is just an added bonus that SAA is an Appalachian writer. I would recommend her books to anyone.

"Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake" by Sarah MacLean. Oh, I was disappointed to find out that this is only Ms. MacLean's second book. Her first, "The Season", was a young adult novel, and to my surprise, I enjoyed it as much as "Nine Rules". They are both Regency romance, which is my favorite romantic genre, and they are extremely well-written. My heart went out to the leading lady in "Nine Rules", and the characters were so believable. I will definitely keep an eye on this author's upcoming projects, and may even spend my allowance on her new titles when they are released. (Yes, hubby and I give each other an allowance - helps with budgeting.)

"Savor the Moment" by Nora Roberts. Let me preface this by saying that I have been a NR fan for years, and I own copies of most of the books she has written. I have liked most of her series, with the exception of the Morrigan’s Cross trilogy, and this new one - the Bride Quartet. The first book was acceptable. Not anything really special to write home about, but a decent way to spend an afternoon and not have to exercise my brain overmuch. The second book - not so good. This latest? Oh, my. Lots of style but absolutely no substance. I admit that I panned it in a review on Amazon.com, giving it only one star. I won’t go into the detail here that I did on that site, but I will say this - Nora Roberts can do better. I don’t know why she is cranking out book after book these days with no plot, but it seems to be a pattern she has fallen into. I am heartily disappointed by this, as I have always enjoyed her work prior to the last few that I’ve read. The basic premise for this book was a good one, and could have been done so much better than it was.

Well, that’s what I’ve been reading, and I’ll probably do more of these types of posts in the future. Hope you all enjoy them

I see dead people!!!

Okay, not really - but....

I am the kind of person who drives down the road and sees drainage ditches, woody ravines, abandoned houses, and thinks "I wonder if there's a dead body in there." I would probably never consider becoming a hiker, a utility worker or a jogger, as those folks find lots of bodies, too. I may have an obsession with true crime, but I don't want to actually experience something as gruesome as finding bodies.

Until I finally freed my inner author, I had to keep my morbid thoughts fairly tightly contained. Hubby and I would discuss these random ideas that would float through my brain, and so would some close friends. However, there have been times when I would make jokes and just get this very strange look - like when we had to replace our freezer. I go into the large home improvement box store and start looking at their freezers, and over the top of the appliances where the price and description tags are located, one of the lines of the descriptions caught my attention. The line said "one person freezer" or "two person freezer". I turned to the sales lady and asked "Does that mean I can only get one body in here?" She just looked at me for a minute and then said "I had someone else ask me that just the other day." Apparently I'm not the only morbid person in Southern Indiana, and I have to say I would loved to have met the other person who noticed that line and made the comment.

I also have to admit that I'm anxiously awaiting the first time when someone looks at me after having read one of my books and wonders where I learned to break into some place without setting off the security system, or how I learned what kind of damage a certain caliber of bullet will do to the human body. I've had a couple of people ask, so far, but no one has had that 'look' on their face, the one that says 'I don't know if I feel safe around you'. Now, how morbid am I that I look forward to that? Well, simply put, if I envoke that kind of emotion in a reader, I've done my job. Secrets in the Shadows is less likely to inspire that sort of feeling, I think, than Under the Moon's Shadow. When it comes out, I'd bet that I'll get some funny looks from people, probably those in my own family.

There is a part of me that dreads having to put certain scenes in the books. These are the darker scenes, and I guess it is a little disconcerting to think that my inner demons are going to be exposed for the world to see, if they care to. The knowledge and fascination I have for the criminal and twisted mind, well, it could be disturbing for those who don't share it. It is a risk I'll have to take.

Until next time...

Losing a job can be a good thing...

If I hadn't lost my job, I probably would never have written my first book. Way back when, I was a medical transcriptionist. Trained for it, practiced it for almost three years total and enjoyed it. I worked (the second time around) for a company out of Massachusetts, and I worked at home. Because of the health issues I have, working at home is essential to me. Transcribing was also perfect, since I enjoy doing it, and it definitely is a meaningful job. Some jobs don't fulfill people because they can't see the end result of what they do. Transcription is not one of those jobs. It was fun and it was educational, and it paid decently, though not as much as some might think. Unfortunately, medical transcription as an industry faces several challenges, outsourcing to workers in places like India and this new trend for electronic medical records, for example. Also, there is a declining workpool and declining pay. I was happily plugging along back in the middle of June 2008 when all of a sudden the account I'd worked on for close to two years dried up. Right after the doctors opened a new practice...okey doke. I repeatedly asked my supervisor what was going on and for new work, but got the runaround. I figured the work was probably heading overseas and the company didn't want anyone to know. After struggling until September '08, sometimes only typing 7-8 lines per DAY (versus 1,500), I gave it up and moved on to another company. I hadn't been there long when the account I'd been placed on went to another transcription company and, you guessed it, no more job for me. The owners of the company I worked for were extremely nice, but nice doesn't pay the bills. The last day I transcribed was November 10th, 2008.

I did the typical job searching thing for about six months, and talk about suffering - our finances plunged! I finally decided, given the horrendous downturn the economy was taking, that it might be time to start my own business. I had started making general notes on the first book, just dawdling around, but didn't think writing a book was a serious option for me. I mean, seriously. A flipping book??? ME??? Naw, I couldn't possibly do that. Could I? The idea started to formulate but in the meantime, ye old bank balance was dipping low, and so the idea of Streetlight Genealogy was born. I love doing genealogy - have done it since I was a child, literally. It is something I'm good at, and something there is a market for. We happen to be close to Kentucky, which is a hot bed for genealogy, and I thought it might work. I put all my cards on the table, took steps to get ready to advertise, joined societies, got business cards and the website up, and then, when I was about one week away from advertising for clients, fate intervened once again. We faced a family crisis that took me completely and totally away from genealogy.

After about a month of this intense, private, hurtful crisis, things came to a head and I pulled away from my family to lick my wounds. I withdrew, became bitter, and literally fell onto the writing of the book as a salve, a balm. I could lose myself in the book and not have to think about the hurt. Before I knew it, I was turning out good material, and the book was truly starting to come to life. I was taking the hours I needed to work on the book, come hell or high water, and it really was like work, an actual job. I treated it as such, and demanded the same respect from people around me. The closer I got to a finished manuscript, the more excitement built in my house, and believe me, after the year hubby and I had endured, we needed that excitement. When I finally typed that last period on that last page of the first draft, the sense of relief (that it was done) and accomplishment were enough to make me giddy.

Looking back now, it is a good thing that I lost my job. Hubby and I have had to face some trials because of it, but it has been well worth the loss, and in so many ways. I learned to live on a budget again, which is not a bad thing, learned how to change my diet (thanks to yet another life-altering crisis we went through), and I wrote a book. If x hadn't happened, 'x' being the job loss, then y and z would not have, either. Y and Z turned out to be good things. Additionally, there were plenty of bad things other than the job loss that occurred, but all the bad had to happen in order for all the good to happen.

Things aren't always what they seem, and sometimes blessings come in disguises. Who would think losing a job would be a blessing?

Confronting Fears...

If someone were to ask me if I am superstitious, I would probably deny it. However...after further introspection, I would have to to change that answer to a tentative yes. An example - my husband and I are getting our house ready to go on the market. We've lived here just over two years, and I had joked when we moved in that I felt that I could create in this house. Hmmm... turned out the joke was on me. Although I had wanted to for many, many years, I hadn't been able to pull the fog away from my brain long enough to focus and write the book, but after moving into this house...I did it. There is a part of me that is seriously worried that if we leave this house, my creativity will vanish and I won't be able to write. I'm not sure what makes this house a creative conduit - or even if it is - but the thought that I may lose my wordiness scares me. We've postulated a theory that the high-tension power lines that run close to our house might be responsible. Hubby has told me that if that is the case and I lose my mojo, we'll just make a hat out of aluminum foil and wrap an extension cord around it...

Another superstition I've had for years is that I have to say a particular mantra to my hubby every day before he leaves to go to work. When I say years, I mean since before we were married, while we were still dating and I would tell him this mantra every night before leaving his house after our date. We had a rather intense courtship, where for the 5-6 months we were dating, he would either come to my house or I would go to his, every day. In any event, I got into the habit of making him promise to be careful, wear his seatbelt and watch out for crazies and idiots. I always make him go through that with me, every time he leaves to go to work.

I don't like walking beneath ladders, I try to avoid stepping on cracks when walking on sidewalks, and I never ignore a ringing phone. I may not answer when it rings, but I am incapable of not glancing at the caller i.d. to see who called.

I don't think I will really lose my creative juices when we move - I think my block had more to do with medical issues than anything. However, I'm not going to stop saying my mantra, or any of the other stuff. I will say this, though - I'm definitely not afraid of black cats. Our eldest cat child is a black cat named Squiddles. She can be scary, but not in a supernatural way.

That W word - and getting over it.

Ah, yes. The dreaded "W" word. Writer. It's what I tell people now when they ask what I do. It took me months of stumbling around before I was even remotely near comfortable telling anyone that I was a writer. I suppose it took me that long to adjust to my new reality - that I really and truly am a writer. I had to believe it myself before I was able to say it to anyone else. In order to do that, I really had to hold that first proof of my own book in my hands. Still, I don't think it sunk in. For so many years, I had dreamed about writing a book, and then to have it come to fruition, well. It was, and still is, a little bit unreal.

I'm a little bit of an oddball anyhow, socially speaking. I hate discussing money with people, and I don't like to answer questions about myself. However, once I saw that folks were truly interested in the how's and why's of the book, I started to relax. I can talk about it now, knowing that it is a good, solid product, and one I can take pride in. Once that happened, lo and behold, I was able to call myself a writer. It is a job, one I take seriously, but it also is a calling.

Part of the reason I think I had such a problem with the "W" word was because I felt a little like a fraud. Okay, a whole lot like a fraud. Who was I to think I could call myself an author, a wordsmith? I haven't done my time, I haven't served my sentence in the jail of artistic torture for one's art. I just sat down, made notes (six months' worth) and wrote the danged thing. It wasn't easy, but I didn't weep with ecstasy or despair on a daily basis.

Now, however, I've sold copies of my book to people I don't know, and who weren't coerced by a family member. I've had copies added to the local library's catalog, and I've made it through my first book signing - without a panic attack, I might add. Which in and of itself is reason to celebrate.

I am no longer afraid to call myself a Writer, and yes, that's with a capital W. I mentioned to my husband over the weekend that I finally have found my calling, and he looks at me and said 'no'. I thought - okay, he disagrees? Writing is not my calling? He says no, that it was what I've known all along I had to do, I just hadn't embraced it. He just delivered that line and went back to eating his lunch. Left me shocked and, yes, awed. Wow. I think I've arrived...

It is fiction....I promise

An interesting set of questions was presented to me today from various sources. On several different occassions, I was asked the following - Where is Leroy? I looked it up on the map and it's nowhere near southern Indiana. Where is New Salem? Is it Salem? Is this character, Charlie Clark, based on your husband? Where did you learn to bypass a security system like that? Were those your recipes in the book?

I answered each of those questions as they came up but it sent my train of thought down an interesting track - how much of these books are people going to associate with me? Do the people who know me assume I'm only writing about certain things because they occurred in my life? What other questions am I going to be facing down the road????

To answer the first set of questions - My Leroy is fictional. Yes, there is a Leroy, Indiana, but it is a tiny, tiny pinprick on the map. Population itsy bitsy - officially! They are not the same. "Leroy" was a very personal decision for me, the town had to be named Leroy, and I can't go into why. (Have to leave some mystery) Seeing that Leroy, Indiana was way up north and tiny, I decided to go ahead and create another one. New Salem is also fictional, is not based on Salem, Indiana. It is very loosely based on New Albany. Olman County, Indiana - well, it is also a fictional place. I like it there - it's one county I don't have to pay taxes in. I may well move there, if I can figure out how to warp reality and fiction into one.

Is Charlie Clark based on my husband? Um, sorta. Yes, physically he is similar to my husband. Yes, he is quiet and playful like my husband. That is basically where the similarities end. My husband has never served in our military, does not own his own business (yet), and does not drive a truck. His parents are not divorced, and his father is not an alcoholic. There is one more similiarity - my hubby is a cat person, like Charlie.

Where did I learn to bypass a security system like that? I made it up. Don't know if it is a real device or not, but I've had several people remark on that. Hey, it sounds good enough to make people wonder. I did look up 'how to bypass security systems' and coupled with other searches like 'how to shoot people' and 'what's the best gun to use for sniping', I'm sure the FBI is on my internet trail as we speak. :)

I've played around with some of those recipes, or thought about it.

What other questions might come up - and what could be potential mine fields for me and mine? Well, certainly the question about my mother-in-law. Is David's mother's character based on hers? Absolutely not. I do know MILs like that, but my own is a sweet lady who wouldn't dream of acting like David's mother. I'm very lucky with both my in-laws.

Another question that I am just waiting for - does your hubby kiss like Charlie? Or perhaps "What is your sex life like? Is that how you guys do it?" Oy. I do not kiss and tell, and that carries over to my fiction. I am like Lauren in that respect - what happens in my bedroom is extremely private and personal, and I don't even share it with my best friends, much less fictionalize it and put it out there for the world to consume. Sorry, folks...:D.

This is an interesting learning experience for hubby and myself. We've both started to get some of these questions, and that was something I never anticipated. It's a little bit exciting, and a little bit intimidating. I don't think I have to worry about things overly much as long as I don't get totally rich and famous, but if it happens, we'll deal with it.

Now...I really need to get back to the second book...I can't wait to see what happens in this next scene! Please email me with questions...I would love to hear from you.

To write or not to write...

When I first set up an author blog, I wondered whether or not to mix my private life with my public life. I decided that sharing the mundane and boring aspects probably wasn't something I wanted to do, but if something important and relevant happened, I would share. Part of the whole purpose in writing for me is to share information through fiction that might help people. I've undergone some interesting challenges in my life, and if reading about those challenges, some of which are integrated into characters, helps my readers - even one - it is worth sharing. Yesterday's events are one of those challenges.



Last evening, I ended up going to Urgent Care for a breathing treatment. I have severe allergies and the greening of the trees and grass has just knocked me for a loop. I'm doing better, thank God, but I learned something last night I wasn't aware of, something that makes a lot of sense if you just step back and think about it.



After the doc had seen me, they had given me the breathing treatment, and I was ready to go, the doctor came back in to discuss what he was sending me home with. He mentioned to me that since I have rheumatoid arthritis, the fact that my allergies are in flare-up mode is probably related. I had NO idea! It makes perfect sense, though. For those of you who are not familiar with RA, it is an autoimmune disorder where the body basically attacks the joints. It is not osteoarthritis, which is 'wear and tear' arthritis. Completely different type of arthritis. Anyhow, the doc said that because my immune system is so strong, i.e., on overdrive, it isn't surprising that my allergies are so severe. He suggested that I might need to consider low-dose steroids, something like Flonase, to help keep the allergies in check. I certainly don't want to experience bronchitis again. He also suggested I seriously consider allergy shots, as they would possibly help build up a tolerance for my allergens.

In any event, I wanted to share what I had learned, and hopefully someone can benefit from that knowledge.

I also saw today that they are placing tornado/severe weather warning sirens about a mile down the road from my house. That's actually pretty exciting - those things save lives. I'm wondering if we will be able to hear it from our house. Given the way sound travels around here, I'm thinking we should.

Regards, all.

T.L.

The surprising truth about writing...

One of the things folks have mentioned to me when I tell them I've written a book is that they hope I get famous and fabulously wealthy. While I didn't set out to make a fortune when I started writing "Secrets", I did hope to make a decent living. Enough to pay a utility or two a month, and I'd be happy. I'm learning that this is a goal much easier said than done.

A big reason I decided to self-publish was control. When I learned that authors who sign with major publishers will usually only receive around 8-10% on sales, may not get to choose their own title, may not get to choose their own cover, and may have content removed from their books (including whole chapters at a time!), it didn't take much thinking for me to decide, as a control freak, that self-publishing was for me. That is when I made the discovery that I really wanted to write just to get the stories out there, not just to make money doing it. I could still send a manuscript to a major publisher, and there is always the off-chance that someone in the Hollywood know will pick up the book, love it and want to option it for a screenplay. Self-publishing doesn't rule those things out.

Something else I am learning as I venture down this path of discovery is that the more products an author has to offer, the more likely they are to succeed. I really, really don't want to be a one-hit wonder. I would rather see mediocre success on a larger scale than to crash and burn with just one book.

The second book, "Under The Moon's Shadow", is a tale that I have had inside me for many, many years. I'm hoping that I'll be able to do it justice. So far, it is still being stubborn, but I am sitting down today and writing it, no matter what. Unless the power goes off. That would kind of hinder me just a wee bit.

There are definite advantages to having your book published by a major publishing house, probably the foremost being the advertising they handle for you. As a self-published author, that burden is yours and yours alone. You fail or succeed on your on merit. How well you do rests entirely in your hands. If you produce a good product and promote it well, it will do well. If you fail at either of those endeavors, you won't do so well. When the book was first finished, I was freaking out over the shameless self-promotion I had to do. Now, I'm taking a more laid back approach, having realized that until I produce another book, I may see small success but probably nothing really to write home about. I'll build my following starting now, and I'll build relationships within the industry, and when book two is ready, it should be received with much fanfare. That's the plan, at least.

Stubborn daggone stories

Sometimes, I am learning, the story that wants to be told is not the story you, the writer, want to tell at that particular time. I had very definite ideas for my first book, Secrets In The Shadows, and when I actually started laying out the plot, ditto actually writing, it went like this (let's see if I can accurately describe the sound effect I am getting ready to make) PHshuuummmmmm (imagine a quick right turn into a totally opposite direction). I am happy with the end product, but the story I set out to tell is still lurking around my brain, refusing to come out! I had planned for it to be book two, and I guess I'm going to have to go in and shake it loose. I'm ready for this story to be told, dang it!

I wonder if there is a yogic exercise that is designed specifically for that purpose - dragging a story out of one's brain?

A scary sight to behold

Sitting here, trying to figure out where to start the next book, I must confess that the blank page before me is a scary sight. I have the outline done but I've been wracking my brain to try and 'see' where I need to start Beth Hudson's story. I know where I want it to go, where I want it to end, but until this evening, the where to start had proved elusive.

Beth is a spunky gal. I'd have a lot in common with her in an alternate universe. She loves vintage clothing - think Kathryn Hepburn in the old 1940s flicks. "His Girl Friday" - Rosalind Russell. Oh, she tones it down, makes sure she doesn't look like a period movie extra, but she has definite tendencies toward the classics.

Unfortunately, Beth is in for some very tough times ahead. Life has always been just a little too easy for her, and it's going to get hard, much harder than she's ever experienced. I had better get started writing or else Beth's story won't get told.

Regards, and wish me luck!

T.L.

Interaction is scary...

I just finished sending off a message to a local newspaper reporter, asking if I could interview them as a reference for my second book, Under the Moon's Shadow (working title). Whoowee. Scary stuff. For someone who has shyness issues, the idea of shameless self-promotion is a mountain to be climbed. That has probably been the part of this writing process I have dreaded most - the face to face human interaction where I need to present myself at least semi-professionally. Forums and blogs are much easier - I can compose my thoughts, and I have a much better chance at sounding articulate. Verbally, though, I lose my cool and my tongue becomes tied. I blather, to put it bluntly. When asked what my book is about, my answer follows these lines. "Um, it's a book, fiction, ummmm, about two cousins, ummm. Small, fictional town in southern Indiana," and then tapers off into random mumbling. I can literally watch my audience's eyes glaze over. I know that I will improve with practice, but finding subjects to practice on...well.

I suppose part of growing up in eastern Kentucky was learning that whole self-effacing attitude. You don't draw attention to yourself, you stay modest about your accomplishments. To do otherwise was considered getting above your raising by probably half the population, the older half. As I was brought up by the older grandparents and an aunt, that's the education I got. I was probably approaching 7th-8th grade before I started speaking up in school, and on a limited basis then. Now, as an adult, I'm so much more outspoken than what I was it is hardly conceivable that I'm the same person. However, sometimes that upbringing raises its head, and that's when I encounter difficulty. I have to fight to overcome the attitude, and while I win most of the time, sometimes I don't. It helps to remember that the person or persons I'm afraid of embarrassing myself in front of are people, just like me, and have probably at one point or another, embarrassed themselves, too.

Lesson to learn - we all have to start somewhere. Do your best, come prepared, and try to relax and enjoy the experience. It's hardly worth having if it is tortuous.

The proof is in the pudding...or maybe the mail.

I ordered the proof for my first novel today from createspace. Somehow, when the fuzzy idea of writing a book first coalesced, the practicality of the maneuvers escaped me. I started to sit down and just write, but then realized I couldn't keep my own characters straight. This led to a detailed genealogical evaluation of the entire fictional town of Leroy, which in turn led to copious note-making and diagrams, personality assessments for my characters, even a town layout depicting whose store was where in relation to the rest of the town. By the time I had all this completed, months had passed! Literally, months. Along the way, as ideas for the plot would come to me, I worked on the book's outline. By the time I was ready to pick up pen and start baring my writer's soul, I had filled up three notebooks with information relating to this town. I know more about these fictional characters than I do my own neighbors. That's okay, though, because I kinda like it that way.

At first the real writing was more of a 'this happens here' and 'this character does this next' sort of thing. As I started to get a feel for it all, the whole process, dialogue developed. Remember, this is the first serious writing project I had undertaken since high school. That was over 15 years ago. My skills were rusty but thankfully hadn't wasted away and atrophied past the point of being revived. By the time I made it to the middle of the book, I was hopping. I quickly learned that if I wrote 10 good pages per day, I was in high cotton. Thirteen good pages? Wow, somebody give that girl a cigar. I also learned that putting that much emotion and intensity forward leaves one feeling quite drained, and that it wasn't uncommon for me to have two good days followed by one or two down days. The more I seem to write, however, the more I seem to be able to produce.

When I finished the first, rough draft, I was ecstatic. I had written a book! No one but no one could take that away from me. Ever. As someone who has had more than her fair share of losses, this concept was calming. I printed the manuscript out, bought some red ink pens, and sat down with a gynormous three ring binder and plowed through the book. It took much longer than I had expected, and so did the revisions when I was ready to tackle them. Next book, I'll have a better idea of what to expect, at least.

After handing the second draft over to my editor, I waited somewhat patiently (for me) for her response. Thankfully, she loved it and was very, very encouraging. At the same time, my husband was reading through the second draft, and he was making marks as he went. I forcefully reminded him that he was not my editor, so this sweet engineer who cannot spell 'coming' decided to not mark all the 'typos' he had found. He only marked sections he had questions about, and after he finished, which was the same time coincidentally as my editor, we sat down and went over his notes and hers. He picked up on a couple of glitches that needed a male perspective, or perhaps just a different one, to be fair, and my editor tackled all my style issues.

Now, I know authors are advised to write, rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, and then think about editing, but I've never done that. I don't start writing until I'm ready to put a finished (or near finished) draft down on paper. Never have. Hopefully that won't come back to bite me. I guess we will see.

In the middle of everything else, we designed the website, business cards, decided on a font and finished the layout for the cover. The cover was the hardest part - it's like naming a baby. You want your child to have the best possible outlook on the world, and it all starts with their name. A book's cover is the same thing. The title was relatively easy - Secrets in the Shadows. The cover was like pulling eye teeth. We did it, though. Moving on, I set up facebook accounts, amazon.com accounts, createspace accounts, purchased ISBNs, registered for a copyright with the Library of Congress, and had a portrait done. Breathing a sigh of relief, I uploaded all the .pdfs to Createspace and this morning, ordered the proof. It should arrive by Tuesday, and we will see what all this hard work has turned out to look like. Hopefully, it will look nice and won't look like something a kindergarten student has done.

All said and done, I now have a much greater respect for authors than I ever did. I knew it would be work going in but I didn't realize how much work. Authors who turn out more than 2-3 books a year? I don't know how you do it. However, you definitely get a big kudos from me and mine. Anyone who thinks writers sit around dreaming and eating bon bons all day just isn't in the real world.