My Novel's Journey--Interrupted again

So after a great start writing a new DragonEye novella, my writing came to a screeching halt to do some galley proofing for I Left My Brains in San Francisco, as well as get geared up for a book tour.  Reading through galleys can be a frustrating process, but having a good relationship with your editor or publisher makes it a lot easier.  I'm sure I drove Kim Richards nutty when I sent back my suggested changes--I even gave the e-mail the subject line "INCOMING!" if that gives you any idea. 

It also helps not to be shy, but to ask after things you feel are important.  I wanted some special formatting--nothing too extensive, but enough to give the impression of programs, marquis, "Tweets" (I made a new system called Blabber), and Kim was not only willing but enjoyed doing them--however, the requests I'd made in the manuscript had been deleted at some point in the editing process, and she didn't know I'd asked for them until she mentioned she was putting the e-book into formatting, and I asked her about them.

Close relationships like this is one of the advantages of working with a small press.  I Left My Brains in San Francisco comes out September 1st.  If you like e-books, I highly suggest getting it from the Damnation Books website that day, as they do a special promotional the first day called variable pricing:  The first copy sold is free, and the price increases by 25 cents for each copy afterward until full price is reached.  That's the first day only.  I'd LOVE to see my book get to full price before the day's end.

Let me leave you with an excerpt.  (Please note the full scene is longer):

Survival Hardware hadn’t seen such a rush of customers since the last Armageddon prediction coincided with Black Friday. 

Manager Clint Sanders rubbed his hands with glee.  Oh, Marley, if only you hadn’t gotten drunk and decided to go zombie hunting.  Was it only last Christmas? 

He hurried to Customer Service, crafting an announcement in his mind.  “You want to live!  We want to live!  That’s why you are going to file calmly to the back if you need a suit.”

Yeah.  Sense of urgency, plus that “We’re in this together” crap.

He got to the counter and nodded at Bitsy, who had rung up a chainsaw and a half-crate of bleach.

God bless survivors. Clint continued to the back.  Out of habit, he checked the exit door, even though it was always locked from the outside.  He needed to delete Marley's old code from it.

He cleared his throat.  “Listen up!  You want to live!  We want to live!”

The exit door clicked.

“That’s impossible!” he declared.  The store fell silent. 

“Boss?” Bitsy’s voice ended in a squeak.

“That’s not what I meant!  Security team to customer service!”

He reached under the counter for a shotgun.  Bitsy grabbed the chainsaw.  They had filled them that morning—another example of the excellent service at Survival Hardware.

The door swung open, and the zombiefied remains of his late business partner, Marley, staggered through.

Clint to blasted him with the shotgun.  The impact knocked the Marley out the door.

Clint used the gunsight to scan the parking lot.  “He brought friends!  Call Nine-One-One.  I’m putting this place on shutdown.”

“Screw that!  I’ve been prepping all my life for this!”  With a howl of challenge, Bitsy dashed out the door.  She swung low and decapitated her former boss before moving on.

Thundering footsteps signaled the customers following in her wake.

He gaped at the carnage while Dirk called 9-1-1.  It’d be too late by the time they got there.  All that’d be left was to clean up the zombie parts and get the customers back in to pay.

God bless survivors.

Story time! Reading aloud from Live and Let Fly

I even made pictures and some snarky comments. That way you don't have to look at my face for the next six minutes. 

Enjoyed that?  You can buy Live and Let Fly at http://tinyurl.com/LiveAndLetFly or Amazon.

My Novel's Journey: Sins of the Brother

My writing career really took off when I wrote a fantasy noir story called "DragonEye, PI" for an anthology called Firestorm of Dtagons.  So it seems only appropriate that I restart my writing with another DragonEye noir to submit to an anthology.

"Sins of the Brother" is based on the 1954 noir movie World for Ransom.  The plot is pretty simple--cynical PI in Singapore is checking up on the husband of the woman he loves.  Husband, of course, is a con man in over his head when he helps kidnap one of the leading nuclear scientists in the world.  PI wants out, but the girl promises to run away with him--once her husband is safe.  But of course, she betrays him in the end--she was never good for him, anyway.

Of course, the plot needs some serious changes to fit my universe.  Vern, as an androgynous dragon, isn't going to fall for some dame--but he might be beholden to a friend, especially a human who had shown him great kindness.  The plot will have to involve some danger to Mundanes or Faerie or both--which means it has to involve the Gap.  Instead of a murder, I'm having a kidnapping to motivate Vern further.

Finally, the real trick: taking a movie with an omniscient POV and translating it to just Vern's angle.  That means a lot of stuff I saw happen on screen Vern simply has to learn about second hand.  Takes a little more work to keep it interesting, so I'm introducing some colorful side characters--a dirty FBI agent, the Magic Mirror of Snow White fame. 

I'm 5000 words into it, and trying to hold a pace of 1000 words a day.  It's been grueling gtting started again, but rewarding afterwards when I read what I'd written.  Here's a little about him talking to the Mirror:

“Mirror, doomed to affirmation, I’m looking for some information.”

The glass smoked, then a face appeared—noble, compassionate, understanding radiating from its eyes…

Then it saw who was talking to it and dropped the facade.  “Vern!  By all that is clear!  What a relief.  Get me out of here.”

Oh, no. I was not carrying this conversation in rhyme.  “Bad day at work?”

His jowls drooped and circles darkened around his eyes.  “You have no idea what it’s like—having to find nice, truthful things to say all day long.  These people are so...needy!”

I shrugged.  “You’re the one who took a confident queen and turned her into a megalomaniac—“

“Hey!  I warned her beauty was fleeting, and she was the fairest in the land until her stepdaughter just…blossomed.  I mean, seriously!  Did you ever see Snow White?  What a dish.  But you know, at least the Queen believed me.  The losers I get in here are always doubting me!  Me!  The Magic Mirror who sees all and speaks truth.  But no!  It’s always, ‘I think my nose is too big,’ or ‘You haven’t seen me without make-up’—“

“Babbling mirror of affirmation, I came here for information!”

Blog Tour: It Was Only Set on Stun by Declan Finn

Blurb:  When security specialist Sean A.P. Ryan agrees to protect actress Mira Nikolic at a Science Fiction convention, he thinks it can't be all bad. It's only a three-day weekend with some colorful characters in costumes.

But Sean is hardly prepared for what awaits him; the costumes, the fanboys, the freaks and geeks are only the beginning. There are actors with attitude problems, writers with rabies, and how do you spot an assassin when everyone is wearing a mask?

This doesn't even account for the real threats. When his client left Europe, she had been a figure of peace in a region that didn't want it. Now that she's an international celebrity, factions from the old country see her as the start of a reunion tour, with guns. Not only that, but she is being stalked by Middle Earth's Most Wanted Elven Assassin; he thinks that the actress is actually an Elven princess, and will do anything to prove it to her, including murder.

And what is that body doing in the middle of the vendor's floor with a sword-cane through his chest?

AUTHOR BIO:  Declan Finn lives in a part of New York City unreachable by bus or subway.  Who's Who has no record of him, his family, or his education.  He has been trained in hand to hand combat and weapons at the most elite schools in Long Island, and figured out nine ways to kill with a pen when he was only fifteen.  He escaped a free man from Fordham University's PhD program, and has been on the run ever since.  There was a brief incident where he was branded a terrorist, but only a court order can unseal those records, and realloy, why would you want to know?  It Was Only On Stun! is his first novel

MINI REVIEW:  I'd like to preface by saying that I am a picky reader who has been known to put down books even by best-selling novelists.  However, I have to be honest—despite the con setting and the humor, this really wasn’t my kind of book.  By the third chapter, I was convinced that the MC was a sociaopath with a violent temper, and I could not see how the other characters thought he was a level-headed guy who would avoid a fight if possible.  He reminded me more of my son’s bounty hunter on Star Wars: the Old Republic than a contemporary Mal Reynolds.    

Having said that, however, I can say this book promises the excitement of a first-person shooter game, and some fun scenes.  Declan Finn has a wry wit and definitely knows how to craft a good—and logical—fight scene.  I give him BIG KUDOS for that.  The premise looks to be a lot of fun, as well.  I’d suggest checking out the blurb at http://apiusman.blogspot.com/2011/05/fcbd-story-one-way-to-stay-out-of-jail.html and judging for yourself.

Declan's website

Read the Prologue

Purchase from Amazon
Purchase in Kindle

Keep off my back, Uncle Sam, notice:  I received an electronic review copy of this book for free.

My Writer's Journey: Slow steps back

Well, after last week's declaration and a burst of energy that took my e-mail level to-do list from 125 to 31, I figured I'd be full steam ahead on writing, but my parents came to visit, which inspired me to do some home improvement projects with them.  We now have doors that make me happy instead of annoyed when I see them, some minor fixes to major appliances, and, of course, Liam's new chair.  We also went shopping, out to dinner, played games, etc.  Overall, a good visit, indeed.

Of course, one of the shopping trips was to get a new dog.  We hadn't intended on looking so soon, but my daughter wanted to volunteer with a pound or rescue, which led to pictures and to phone calls, and on Saturday, we adopted a hound/shepherd mix, Toby.

He's a puppy, so in one sense, he'll be yet another project for me, but will also challenge me to keep my writing at hobby level.  He's also excellent with the kids, always following them around instead of me.  (Sometimes, I had to protect Layla from a kid who wanted to snuggle too much.)

I didn't work on fiction, but I did enjoy writing my blogs this weekend, which was one of the things I had lost enthusiasm for.  Also, I do feel some of my enthusiasm for marketing coming back.  I'd not been able to come up with a book trailer for I Left My Brains in San Francisco, and an e-mail reminded me of the September 1st launch date, so I went looking for music for the trailer.  I came across a really fun calypso/reggae beat by Kevin MacLeod, and lyrics popped into my head.  Now I need someone to sing it!  We're going to make a contest of it, so I'll be working out the details this week.  Stay tuned!

Between dogs and parents, and doctor appointments tossed in, I probably won't get started on writing until next week, but that's okay.  I think I'm back on track.

Camo chair

Last week, my parents came to visit, and we took the opportunity to do some home tasks.  One that had been longstanding was a new chair for my son, Liam.  He's been dealing with a chair with broken arms for a while.  Meanwhile, his older chair, while ratty, was still in good shape.  I still had some leftover cushion from when we did the kitchen chairs, so Mom and I used it to make a new chair.

We went through my fabric box and found some of Rob's old BDUs--the forest green pattern military uniforms.


It's pretty simple concept: 

1.  First take the chair apart
2.  Cut the foam to cover the seat and the arms.
3.  Cut the fabric to cover the seat, arms and back
4.  Staple the fabric tightly to the seat
5. Put the chair back together.

The seat turned out to be easy.  The back, however, was a challenge.  It was just a little too large to slide the shirt over once we cut the sleeves and sewed it back up.  We finally had to remove the buttons and undo the stitching for the reinforcement on the flap.  We cut off the collar to make a flat  top. Thus, we were able to make a tube that fit over the back, with the front of the BDU shirt (with the pockets and the patches) on the back. Then we sewed the top in a squarish pattern to fit the chair.

I got a little creative when it came to the arms.  Liam is always has stuff sitting on his desk, from pencils to candy to sodas, so I wanted him to have a place for some of it.  On one side, we simply cut a pocket out of another of Rob's old shirts, finished the edges and stapled it to the underside of the arm when we did the covering. 

The other side has a cup holder.  I took one of the arms we cut, and used some other spare fabric to make a round bottom.  We took a plastic bottle (from those Clorox wipes, and cut it in half.  That made the holder.  Then I cut out part of the sleeve so that I had a flap for the sleeve to hold the cup.  Then I stapled the flap as I did  with the other side.

In all, the project took about 4 hours, partly because the screws were stuck, and the back was difficult, but Liam is thrilled with his "new" BDU chair.

My writer's journey: Starting Fresh

Last week, I came to the conclusion that I'd make my writing success too high a priority in my life.  God called me to be a wife and mother, and I've let what should (for now at least) be a hobby consume my time and energy beyond what it deserves.  So the question is, what to do now?

Well, many of you probably won't be surprised to learn that my first goal is to cut the clutter.

I have a lot of writing clutter--promises to other writers, reviews to request, follow-ups to pursue, interviews to apply for...  My to-do list last Thursday was 125 items long, some of the tasks nearly a year old.  It's like the closet where you stick stuff in case you need it someday.

So I resolved to do no more writing until I had killed that list fully.  I have read books for endorsements, critiqued stories, followed up on marketing leads, and sent replies to friendly business e-mails that I flagged to do when I had more time. 

I also followed up on submissions that have been sitting on editors' desks.  Mot of these were second follow-ups and had been sitting for six months or more.  I've decided to do a 3-3-3 method from now on:  follow up once in 3 months, a second time 3 months later, and count it a loss at 9 months.  I need to face facts: if my stories were so impressive, they would not languish so long.

I prepped review requests for all my books and have them in the drafts folder to send out one a week.  Once I've cleared the backlog, I can start sending them out as they happen.

I also deleted a lot because they'd been put off too long, or I found with my new attitude that I didn't have the time or energy to pursue them in light of what I figured are the returns.  In the past, I was willing to try a lot of new things; now, I'm going to be more particular.

This was not an easy process.  Sometimes, I shed a few tears when a task would remind me again of how I have not achieved the sales success I'd hoped to.  But with those tears and the accomplishment or deletion of the task, I healed a little.

I'm down to 27 tasks, some of which I cannot handle because they need to be addressed in later months, and some of which are writing opportunities.  My parents are visiting this week, so I'm holding there to hang out with them and do some household tasks.  (Monday, I'll tell you about the chair we reupholstered for Liam.)

Blog tour: Priestess of the Eggstone by Jaleta Clegg

 

Summary:  It isn't Dace's fault she leaves chaos everywhere she goes. She didn't know Belliff, the company who hired her to courier sensitive materials, is a front for the Targon Crime Syndicate. She finds out when she steps into the middle of a Patrol raid on Belliff's offices. The Patrol and Targon both want her. But that's nothing. Her copilot has an entire sentient species chasing him for stealing their god. The two of them set off on a desperate chase to get the Eggstone god back to avert war with the Sessimoniss while evading the Patrol and the Targon Syndicate. But the Eggstone isn't just any rock. The Patrol isn't chasing her for the reasons she thinks. And Targon's days are numbered.




About Jaleta: 

Jaleta Clegg was born some time ago. She’s filled the years since with many diverse activities, such as costuming, quilting, cooking, video games, reading, and writing. She’s been a fan of classic sci-fi books and campy movies since she can remember. Her collection of bad sci-fi movies is only rivaled by her collection of eclectic CD’s (polka, opera, or Irish folk songs, anyone?).

She feels privileged to join the ranks of science fiction authors.

Her day job involves an inflatable planetarium, numerous school children, and starship simulators. Her summer job involves cooking alien food for space camp. She writes a regular column in Abandoned Towers Magazine–fancy dinner menus for themed parties.

Previous fiction publications haven’t happened yet, but she has several stories coming out this year in various magazines, both online and print.

Jaleta lives in Utah with her husband, a horde of her own children, and two ancient, toothless cats. She wants to be either Han Solo or Ursula the Sea Witch when she grows up. If she ever does.

Mini Review:  Ever been exhausted from having fun?  Princess of the Eggstone will leave you with that feeling.  Every time I thought Dacre's situation couldn't get more complicated, Jaleta found a new insanity to throw her way.  It was like riding a roller coaster--but more entertaining.  Great characters, humor, and a plot twists make this and entertaining read.  Enjoy!

Order from Amazon

Jaleta's Website

ATTN, Uncle Sam:  Since you're interested, I got a review copy of this book in electronic format.  

My Writer's Journey: Time for a change

Well, it's been a long journey of introspection and soul searching.  I've journaled, talked with friends, done some reading, asked myself hard questions.  In some ways, I don't feel I've made any life-changing conclusions, but perhaps all I needed was a nudge into a new direction.

For those who haven't been following--I took a 6-week vacation from writing and marketing in June, but when we got home in July, I found myself unmotivated to write, even the stuff I wanted to write.  it's not writers' block as most folks think about it.  I had lost the joy of writing, kind of a mid-life writer's crisis, if you will.

As I journaled about my feelings and expectations, I recognized that I was frustrated by my low readership and sales, not so much for the money but for the recognition of a job well done.  I also confronted my feelings about marketing.  And I thought hard about the kind of person I want to be--and what kind of person God expects me to be.

The fact of the matter is,writing is a small part of who I want to be, yet it's taken the biggest part of what I do.  I have an obsessive personality, and I have too often let writing and marketing consume me at the expense of my more "mundane" roles of wife, mother, even housekeeper.  Perhaps if those efforts had paid off in bestsellers, I could justify them.  However, they have not, and my frustration lies in the fact that I've sacrificed in those areas for minimal returns to my writing career. 

As far as God's call for me--I just can't see that He would Call me to write funny SFF with puns, innuendo, and occasional puerile humor.  I don't think He minds; He may even approve--but a Calling?  Even if my books were best sellers, they aren't that significant.

And yet, I had made them too significant. 

So, now I have a better idea of where my writing belongs in my life, and it's not in the forefront as it is right now.  It's going to need a change of focus, of attitude, and of planning.  I'll be exploring that next week.

Good-Bye to The Best Dog Ever

In Virginia, we decided we wanted a dog.  We bought a beagle pup, but she was a nervous dog adn after a year, we gave her away to a retired lady.  After that, I set out with one requirement:  a mellow dog with an easy disposition for a boisterous family.  I called shelters and we checked pounds.  Finally, a friend recommended a mutt rescue.

"I have the perfect dog!  We have a whole ranch of rescues, but she was such a dear we couldn't bear to leave her in a kennel, so we brought her in the house with us," the lady told us.

That weekend, we drove an hour to the house.  I warned the kids, then 4-10 or so, to be calm and not overwhelm the dog.  I also said we'd look her over and then come back the next day if we wanted her.

She ran to the yard to greet us.  Immediately, everyone, including my husband, surrounded her, cooing and petting.  Layla flopped onto her back and wagged her tail like she'd gone to heaven.

We didn't get a mile down the road after out visit before we went back for her.

Since then, Layla was a constant loving presence.  She had the Wag that Never Ends.  She slurped the children--and Rob--at the drop of a hat.  She danced for treats, hogged the beds, and crawled under my desk to lay at my feet when I wrote.  She comforted the children when they were sad, ate out of their trash cans when they neglected chores, but most of all she loved us.

Last week, she started coughing.  We thought it was an upper respiratory infection, and got her on antibiotics.  It just got worse over the weekend, so this morning, I took her in.  She was excited for the ride, pulled on the leash to sniff around, and wagged the whole time. 

Who would have known cancer had taken her throat and part of her lungs?  The x-rays showed a big fraction of her lungs grayed out, and an endoscopy showed it was tumors.  He didn't think she'd have long before she simply stopped breathing.

After the endoscopy, they revived her so we could say goodbye.  As we cried and told her what a good dog she was, she wagged and gave kisses and loved us in the same happy way she always had.

So the Perpetual Wag ended today...at least on this earth.  Our lives will be less with her gone, but they were enriched for the years we had her.

I found this prayer online:

Eternal Father, we bring you our grief in the loss of Layla and ask for courage to bear it. We bring you our thanks for Layla who lived among us and gave us freely of his/her love. We commit our friend and companion Layla into your loving hands. Give us eyes to see how your love embraces all creatures and every living thing speaks to us of your love. Amen.

My Writer's Journey: Tired of Busting Butt. So what now?

*Whine Alert.  Grab some cheese before you read on.*

"Karina, you do great work...but people don't believe it."

I was a first lieutenant in the Air Force when my supervisor told me this.  Twenty-two years old, working hard and apparently producing great work, but nonetheless, for the most part, I did not have the confidence of my chain of command and my coworkers that I could actually do the job--even when the fruits of my labors were there for them to see.

I still remember my first reaction--to get upset.  My second was to ask my commander, "And what are you doing about that?  Because I am doing good work and busting my butt for this organization."  However, the Major was being sincere and seemed frustrated over it, too. Plus, he was a Marine, and you don't whine or demand entitlements of a Marine.  Besides, I was an officer--give me a problem and I'd handle it.  So I said, "Okay, why, and what do I do about it?"

"I don't know," he replied. 

It's 23 years later, and I find myself having the same conversation.

I am a very good writer.  I write tight prose and fast-moving, complex plots.  People love my characters.  My humor can make people laugh out loud in public and even spit out their drinks.  And this isn't me bragging--this is what I get told by folks who have read my work.  My novels and anthologies have won popular and judge-based awards, and have four or more stars on Amazon.  My publishers tell me I'm one of the hardest working marketers they have--and more than one has hired me to teach the basics to their other authors--which I do well.  Even when I've asked for help, I get the same advice I'm already following.

And yet...  My Amazon rankings are low.  My sales are low.  My blog and website hits are low.  I work hard, do the same kind of things other more successful authors do, and even with high-quality work, my books are not thriving. 

Karina, you do great work...but people don't believe it.

When it comes down to it, that's why I'm tired of writing.  I love writing, but I'm tired of working so hard to create great books and to promote them, yet to achieve so little in terms of readership.

I left the active-duty Air Force in 1993 to stay home to raise our first child.  I have to admit, much as I wanted to be a stay-home mom, some of it was because I was tired of working hard and yet not getting the recognition commensurate to my work.  I didn't enjoy the Air Force that much.

However, I love writing.  I've never had such fun or felt such satisfaction as I do when creating and polishing a story.  But I'm tired, tired, tired of busting butt for such small returns.  And it's not even the money, per se.  We're financially well-off; money is a measure of success and readership--though I do feel I should at least get back what I invest.

 So, now I'm back to the question I had asked my commanding officer nearly two decades ago:  "Okay, why, and what do I do about it?"

A little about Coyote

Ever have one of those days?  This was meant for the DragonEye blog, but I pushed the wrong button.  No matter; it's still fun, but I think you should know that Vern, my dragon from DragonEye, PI, is writing this.

Since Coyote was responsible for the fires in "Coyote Fires," directly or indirectly, depending on your point of view, Karina wants me to tell you a little about him from my point of view:

Here's what I wrote about him in Magic, Mensa and Mayhem:  Yes, the Native American Trickster is an actual Faerie demigod and he's everything the Mundane legends claim and more. Unfortunately. Coyote changes form, just like in the legend. He can be an old grandmother or he can make Fabio look like a plain Jane. His animal form is usually a coyote, but he can be other animals. Pretty much whatever brings the most enjoyment to him and the most pain to sensible beings (especially PIs who have to bail out the world from his tricks.)  

Of course, he didn't get named "Coyote" for nothing, and even in his human form, he can't escape his animal self.  Call them attributes, instincts, or bad habits--regardless, they include things like scratching for fleas, peeing on things, and sticking his head out the window on car rides.  He does the puppy-dog-eyes schtick very well.  Don't be fooled.  He's inevitably more trouble than he's worth.

Incidentally, he has a thing for females, and isn’t too picky as long as they are of mating age.  Thanks to Sister Grace, however, he stays away from religious sisters.  (I must admit, though, I’m curious about the mange—or better yet, the pattern to his male pattern baldness should he get out of hand.  Leave it to Grace to attack him where it would hurt most—his vanity!)

He got Grace into a lot of trouble in "Coyote Fires."  In fact, he put the whole of Los Lagos County in danger--and guess what drake had to get everyone out of it?  The worst of it is, he's taking credit!  To this day, he's still bragging about how he--

oops!  Vern's heading into spoilers!  If you're interested in learning more about Coyote and finding out what happened to Los Lagos, check out http://coyotefires.karinafabian.com.  Remember--the story is free, but I am doing it as a fundraiser to help the victims of the Colorado wildfires.  If you can spare a few dollars, please donate.  We are stuck at Episode Four at the moment; I'm asking for $10 cumulative donations for each episode, so ask your friends and spread the word on FB, Twitter, and other places!

Our Expensive Souvenir

Thursday, I promised the story of our "new" car.

For months, Rob had been pushing me to consider buying a new van.  He thought our 2003 Chrysler Town and Country was getting old.  The doors didn't work reliably.  It had a couple of leaks.  It looked ugly and beat up.

I didn't want a new car.  It's ONLY a 2003.  Who cares if we have to open the doors manually?  Yeah, I put a big dent in one door, but the interior was still in great shape, and it was the most tricked-out vehicle I'd ever had.  I liked not having a car payment.  Plus, we are only a year away from going from four kids at home to two.  I wanted to wait, preferably until the car fell apart of its own accord.  And, in the back of my mind, I knew that if I had to get another van, I wanted another like the one I had, just newer, but preferably used--and maybe around $16K.

Well, in my effort to keep my van running, I took it to the dealer and had them give it a bumper to bumper check to fix any troubles before we went on vacation.  We sunk about $3000 into it, but that's better than a new car, right?  Got the oil changed, too, and in June, we started on our cross-country adventure.

On the second day, the oil light flashed as we pulled out of the hotel parking lot.  Just flashed--once, about 2 seconds, then went off.  So we decided we'd check the oil when we stopped, and if the light came on, we'd pull over.

A couple of hours or so down the road, the car starts a low rattle.  By the time we'd ruled out the cupholders, it was making clunking noises.  (No warning lights--just clunka-clunk). We pulled into the first exit, which fortunately had a truck repair show right off the exit, a gas station, Burger King, and nothing else.

The mechanic only needed a couple of seconds to know that we were about to throw a rod.  The oil had completely burned dry, there were metal flakes in the engine.  He told Rob it was probably the two days of highway driving. In other words, yes, the car fell apart of its own accord.

We're in Oawakville, IL--tiny, midwestern town--and we have to buy a new car.  As they call the Chevy dealer, I have whine, half-laugh at our fate and put in my one request to the Lord, "I just want another Grand Caravan."

The guys from Chevy Streuter came to get us in their Hummer.  Their entire lot was about the size of our yard.  They only had two cars that would meet our needs:  one, a black 2010 Dodge Grand Caravan, prices at $16,000.

Sometimes, I think God likes to give me a surprise.

The salespeople were wonderful.  They detailed the car as I watched, double-checked everything, towed our old car over so we could transfer the stuff, and did everything they could to make us comfortable and get us out quickly on the road to Aunt Sara's house.  The car is terrific, and though it has fewer fun features than my old one, it does have more space, working doors and no dents.

So, aside from the car payment, Rob and I both got our wishes.  And, I'll keep this one until it falls apart of its own accord--though hopefully, not in the middle of another vacation.

My Writer's Journey: Taking time to ask WHY

Thanks to all the folks who commented on my blog and Facebook with encouragement, suggestions and kind words.  It seems many of us face this issue at one time or another, so I am going to blog now and again about my thoughts and experiences as I do some self-examination regarding my writing career.

First, some clarification and reassurance:  I am not going to stop writing.  I do love sharing my stories.  And I am not in a crisis of faith, or even a life crisis, nor am I depressed or overstressed.  I have a wonderful marriage, terrific kids who are smart, compassionate and well-behaved, and a comfortable home.  Rob earns a good income.  We're all healthy.  I have wonderful parents, a great sister, and a terrific mom-in-law and sis-in-law.  Plus, I obviously have caring and supportive friends. And true, Rob is deployed for the year, but he's in a safe job and we've done this before; plus technology means we have plenty of contact.  So my feelings about my writing career are probably 25 percent of my feelings about life--significant enough that I need to address them, but not significant that it's ruining my quality of life.  So, while I appreciate all the prayers, please don't worry about me.

That doesn't erase the fact that I do feel discontented, and I need to face those issues head-on.  I wrote Thursday's blog on Tuesday.  Afterward, I found an old journal I never filled, and started using it to record my thoughts.  I start with a page of freewriting, then ask myself a question, many of which I got from reading articles about midlife crisis and career change.  It's actually been an illuminating experience.  Many things, I already knew, but not as clearly; some things I was surprised to learn.  I'm also clarifying my areas of weakness.

In my readings, I came across this:  The young adult asks, "What should I do with my life?"  The midlife adult asks, "Why am I doing this with my life?"  That really speaks to me, because it's not that I don't love what I'm doing.  Writing is what I feel I should be doing with my life (or at least part of it).  But I haven't examined the "why."  Instead, I filled that with goals and expectations, easy answers, and maybe even what others think "success" means. 

"Why" is the Big Question, the end goal.  These past few days, I've been laying the groundwork--thinking about what I love and hate about writing, examining my strengths and weaknesses.  Once I have a better idea of where I stand, I can then determine where I really want to be--not where ego or outside opinion says I should be.

Have you ever stopped to examine "WHY" you do what you do?

My Novel's Journey: Soul Searching

It's been another week, and I've not written anything.  I've started a new promotions project, which is in the form of 10 tabs open and untouched on my browser.  I've puttered around FB, but not done much of substance.  The only thing I've done with any motivation is promote the fundraiser for the American Red Cross, "Coyote Fires."

I thought I was going to come back from my vacation rejuvenated and ready to write and market with new gusto.  Instead, I find I'm even more apathetic.  Maybe it's my own version of midlife crisis (without the hot sports car, alas--we ended up buying a "new" used minivan on vacation when ours broke down.  Funny story; I'll tell you Monday.)  Maybe I'm just being confronted with the fact that I'm just not as good as I think I am. Maybe I'm fighting God's will for me.

I don't know.  But I do know that looking at my books' Amazon sales and ranks depresses me; that I don't make enough in royalties for a car payment; that even with a good cause and a fun story, I have only a handful of readers interested in my fundraiser; that even when I seem to make an impression on someone with my writing, I'm easily pushed off and forgotten. 

Yet at the same time, I'm so grateful for the blessings I've had.  I do have fans--many of whom are very loyal and have become dear friends as well.  Plus, my writing has brought me into a world of such wonderful people, from the members of the Catholic Writers Guild and Broad Universe to the writers I've met through the Writers Chat Room, Yahoo groups, and Facebook.  And just recently, two--yes--two!--of my books became finalists in the eFestival of Words Best eBook contest--and I didn't even have to nominate myself.  I have publishers who are glad to take my works and love that I'm easy to edit and work hard at marketing, and are quick to tell me so.

And yet...

I sit down before a work in progress and think, "Is it worth it?"  I look at my marketing to-do list and wonder why I'm bothering.  I start a new project and leave it open on the browser until it crashes, taking my half-started effort with it (like happened as I wrote this blog.  Will pull hair later.)

It's not a matter of my "Muse leaving" me; anyone who reads this blog knows how I feel about that excuse.  It's more about needing to figure out why I write: what I want out of my stories, what will bring me satisfaction.  Whether I need to change my direction or just my attitude.

I'm not sure what that's going to mean as far as my writing.  I mean, have I committed literary suicide just sharing this much?  Will some of you think I'm being a whiner and an ingrate?  (Trust me, I feel that way!)  Should I share my soul-searching on this blog, or is that self-indulgent?

I'd be glad to know your thoughts.  In the meantime, I'm not giving up.  I'll still blog and promote my works.  I owe my publishers that for the faith they've had in me.  As for the rest... 

Give me some time.  I'll recapture that joy--and I'll be writing again.

My books are up for an award

I came home from vacation to some exciting news--two of my books are finalists for the eFestival of Words Best of the Independent eBooks Award.  What was especially nice, IMHO, is that I did not need to pay a fee to enter, nor did I nominate myself.

 Neeta Lyffe, Zombie Exterminator--Best Young Adult

Mind Over Mind--Best Fantasy

The winners are determined by popular vote between now and Aug17.  I used to ask people to vote for my book, but it always bothered me, and does even more as I get older.  I don't want to win because I'm popular.  I want to win because my book is that good.

What's nice about this award is that they have asked authors to post excerpts, offer copies, etc.  So what I'm asking is that you consider my books against the others.  I also have offers for the books themselves on the voting pages.

You must register at www.efestivalofwords.com to vote. One vote per account. (The site does track IP addresses. Multiple votes from the same IP address using different accounts will be deleted.)

To vote, log in at efestivalofwords.com and go to the VOTE! Thread for each category. Winners will be announced during festival August 17-19th.  http://www.efestivalofwords.com/awards-hall-f29.html

Last note:  If you are a writer, do sign up.  Even if you don't vote, the eFestival of Words is a free online writers conference with panels and workshops.  You'll learn a lot and have some networking.