I just dropped Murder in the mail. To another agent. Somehow, hope springs eternal in the heart of a writer. :) Plus, I had contact with him on another matter, and he volunteered his help with my career. Who could turn that down?
I suspect it won't be something he will want to represent, but at least he might offer some advice and direction, help me break the frozen feelings I have about which way I'm supposed to go. Right now, I feel a little like a Keystone Cop stuck at an intersection...
Won't be blogging for a few days, not that this is anything new! I'm taking a touch of a sabbatical, offline and out-of-touch, phone off the hook. I hope to find a new center, renewed and energized. Maybe. lol!
In the meantime, Rach is better and will be spending the weekend with a friend, so Mom can have some downtime.
Catch y'all on the other side.
Rachel is still sick; now her third day out of school. Nothing major; no pneumonia threatening on the horizon. It's just one of her colds, the kind antibiotics won't help and that take her forever to get over. Even on her drugs she's congested and exhausted. I look at her, wishing, praying, desparately that I could do something to make her well again.
I'm not as frozen as I was last week, unable to work. Seeing her improve, even a little, helps release my focus, and the weekend was pretty . . . and busy. My mother and brother came up to see the house, and it was the first time they'd been in Nashville for many years. They only stayed four hours or so, but it was a good visit, and amusing as they took in my new homeowner status.
I am, after all, still the baby in the family. :)
More writing today.
My mind is empty, as if someone had scooped it clean. I am moving through the world, split, my body doing what needs to be done, my mind disengaged, exhausted, removed. It is the strangest sort of hollowness, where creativity does not exist, emotions slowly dissipate, and I only crave hours and hours of sleep. And Rach is sick today.
How do people who do not have these times exist?
Author Jenn Stark has written a terrific series that discusses the basics and power of developing a personal brand. This is something which I've been struggling with for some time.
To follow Ms. Stark's idea, I would want to start with the idea that I'm a friendly, stubborn redhead who writes romantic suspense. Good. I'd also like to be known for a particular style of dress...unfortunately, my sense of style is very similar to Gilda Radner's. She once said her sense of style was based on what didn't itch.
But that's the minor part. For years, I've wrestled with the question of going Christian...or secular. "Write from your heart" is good advice, except that my heart sits on both sides of the fence. Why can't I do both? Well...part of the problem with that is that Christian houses don't really want to publish someone who also sells edgy, secular fiction, pseudonym or no pseudonym. And there's not a lot of room on the secular side either, since they don't want to confuse their readers.
So I feel driven to make a choice, yet I remain annoyed that in order to build a career, it has to be this way, as if I'm betraying something deep within.
If God has an answer, He's not yet opened that window for me.
In the meantime, I have a book due.
This is about growing as a writer.
I've decided that it is, without a doubt, easier to get published than it is to get an agent.
Now...once upon a time (say, oh, a decade or so ago), I had an agent. A lovely, fabulous woman named Christine Bolley. She signed me on the basis of a project I was working on called Sea Breezes and Mountain Winds, which a "fictional devotional" - in other words, short stories with a devotional message. You can see one of the samples in the extended entry.
Chris loved it. Her assistant told me it made her cry (which is a good thing!). But they couldn't sell it. Every editor they submitted to gave her the same response: "Great writing. Hard to sell." Finally, I sent it to two editor friends and asked why it was getting that response. They were more specific: "You have a great voice, very distinct, but it's too edgy and the topics too risky for the Christian market."
Now what they did not say, but what I heard was, "You can't write for the Christian market." After a year, Chris and I went our separate ways, and Sea Breezes went on the shelf.
I pursued the secular market, to no avail. Short stories went nowhere, and I didn't believe I had the umph to finish a novel. Finally, I focused on Rachel and work. And I didn't write anything else for several years.
It was eating me alive. When I don't write, I go a little nuts.
Finally, I tried to sell Sea Breezes one more time. It didn't sell, but the editor I sent it to asked me if I'd like to try another direction. I agreed, and sold A Moment with God for Single Parents.
Then came the idea for the strangest short story ever, "Dream Killer." When I finally finished it (which is a story for another time), it still didn't sell, but it spurred me on. I then turned a fan fiction piece into a straight (i.e. non-fan) novella, and Venganza sold. The same company bought my first novel (When Angels Fall), then "Dream Killer."
I felt like I'd launched a ship.
In the meantime, God was still tugging on me. I wrote A Murder Among Friends, and it sold to Steeple Hill, who now wants the second book. In the meantime, I sold a second devotional, Secrets of Confidence, to Barbour . . . who subsequently turned down Sea Breezes.... [Hey, I never give up completely.... :)]
Yet agents still turn me down because my work is hard to sell....which is the latest verdict on Picture Perfect Murder..."great writing; hard to sell."
I'm slowly, slowly becoming convinced that God does, in fact, want me in the Christian market. WHERE is yet to be determined.
Which is where the word "branding" comes in....
(more on that one later)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sea Breezes and Mountain Winds
Sample Devotional
The Victory Path
The rocks pressed through her thin-soled shoes, and her thighs ached, but she pressed on. Laura knew the goal that lay ahead was well worth the pain. From the top of the ridge, the incomparable view spread before her as the woods of the steeply sloping mountain gave way to first suburban streets, then the entire city. The skyline glittered as the rays of the late afternoon glanced off the tower windows.
Her goal, however, was more than a great view. The ridge was silent, with only the trees and birds making soft, rustling sounds. Laura stopped finally, gasping and massaging her legs, bending and taking short steps to keep her muscles from cramping. The sound of her hard breaths eased, but she could still hear the harsh voice of her husband Frank in the back of her head. She had come here to escape the nerve-grating noise of her marriage, to seek the quiet that had always calmed her and helped her regain her balance.
Laura sank down on a stump and put her fingers to her stinging eyes, her heart growing tight in her chest. I can’t even get away from him here.
The fight had begun two days before. And it was so stupid! Laura stood up and paced, going over the details one more time.
When their son Chad was born, Laura had planted a silver maple tree for him in the backyard. Now the tree was a beautiful, abundant shade. But Chad was gone, driven away by the angry words of a father who did not understand and could not tolerate his son’s preference for men over women. Laura had tried to be both mother and wife, angering both men. Chad had left and Frank had decided to erase all signs of his son’s presence from their home, including the silver maple.
Finally, Laura had fought back. The tree was as much hers as Chad’s, and she would not let Frank destroy that, too. The battle had raged through the night. Finally, early today, Frank had gone to rent a chain saw. After he left, Laura ran a string through her wedding rings and left them on the tree. The note taped to them said simply, “How much more do you intend to destroy?” She had left before he returned, retreating here.
Laura stopped her pacing, tears blinding her. She sat down hard on the ground, digging her fingers into the rotting leaves and musty-smelling soil. Her voice caught in her throat as she said aloud, “Oh, dear Lord. Help us. How do we get through this?”
As her tears flowed down her hot face, a breeze stirred, swirling the dead leaves around her and cooling the moisture on her cheeks. A scraping noise above her caught Laura’s attention and she looked up, her eyes trying to focus on the blurry image of a squirrel chewing furiously on the hard shell of a black walnut. She brushed the leaves and dirt from her fingers, then wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. The squirrel stopped chewing, freezing in his abrupt awareness of her presence. A sob caught in her throat, Laura stared at the squirrel. The sound of his teeth on the nut’s husk had been the only sound, and now the silence surrounded Laura. The breeze that had dried her tears died away, and the warmth of the sun was like a blanket around her shoulders.
The words of a Bible verse drifted into her head unbidden: “God has called us to peace” (1 Cor. 7:15). Laura looked up, away from the squirrel and into the leaves that were dappled with sun. “But how?” she said aloud.
The wind picked back up, lifting her hair off her shoulders. She looked away from the trees and the brilliant vista, and back down the path that led off the ridge. “Lord,” Laura prayed softly, “show me how to follow your will in this. Show me which path to take.”
Laura sat still, knowing that if she could remember one passage of scripture that would help, then maybe more would wander into her memory. She thought about another marital conflict that had been brought about by anger--Abigail and Nabal--and thought that Abigail must have traveled a similarly rocky path on her way to meet David. Abigail, the peacemaker, who had pleaded with David not to be angry. What was it that Solomon had later written about anger?
Laura searched her memory, and she smiled as she remembered the words.
“Do not hasten in your spirit to be angry, for anger rests in the bosom of fools. Do not say, ‘Why were the former days better than these?’ For you do not inquire wisely concerning this” (Eccl. 7:9,10).
Brushing off the clinging bits of leaves and twigs, Laura stood up and took a deep breath. She looked out over the skyline one more time, whispering a quiet thank you. This place--and God--had helped her regain her peace so that she could start again. She knew there was a lot of work ahead of her and Frank, but the first step was to face her own anger--and his. They had lost their focus, but their love and faith had always been strong. It would survive.
And as she headed back down the stone-filled path, Laura knew this time her journey would be one of victory.
What does the Lord require of you
But to do justly,
To love mercy,
And to walk humbly with your God?
Mic. 6:8
Lord, please help me remember that my place is beside you. Walking with you means that I will grow in your love, share in your strength, and learn from your teachings. Only by your side are all things possible in my life.
For anyone who was worried about Rach and me during last Friday's storms, thank you. It was one of the small blessings in my life that I had moved out of the area that was hit only a month before. Traffic in that area was insane after the F3 went through. Rachel would have been stranded on her bus for several hours, with neither Phyllis nor I able to get to her.
As it was, her driver had to wait on Phyllis. It took her more than 90 minutes to make a 20-minute drive because of the damage and the traffic.
If you're interested, this aerial photography site has some of the photos from the storm.
Our prayers definitely go out to those who are hurting.
No matter how many folks tell me that blogging is essential to my marketing myself and my books, I can't seem to get into the blog habit. Every time I promise myself that I'll develop the habit, this is something that doesn't seem to be in my nature. Which kinda surprises me considering how much I like to talk. I especially like to talk about publishing and writing.
I don't expect to improve anytime soon, however. I have one deadline next week and another at the end of the month, in addition to all the other things I have going. Maybe soon, I can get the habit going.
In the meantime, thanks to everyone who checked on Rach and me Friday and yesterday, following the storms that ripped through this area. They were all north of where I live, although they did tear up the area I just moved from. My prayers go out to those who were affected, especially those who lost loved ones.
Till the next blog...God's blessings on you all.