I'm talking reviews. I check my stats daily because I'm neurotic that way, and cringe every time I go to my "book" section. I have so few reviews, when a new one is posted, I get a cramp in my stomach and my head starts to spin wondering if it will be favorable or not.
Now some authors don't read their reviews. I do. I shouldn't, but I do. I can't help it. It's like watching the nightly news. I have to see what truck has caused a major pile up on the highway.
If it's a good review I smile for days after. If it's a bad review I rail at the computer screen.
Why do we authors feel the need for such validation? I think it comes from somewhere deep down inside -- that mother's love thing. When Mommy said, "Good job" on your homework, or "That's fantastic" when you brought home a good report card. It goes back to that.
Who wants to be told "you suck" at something you've poured your heart and soul into for months on end?
I write reviews. I post them. I think it's the least I can do for my friends. We've all been in this together for a long time and that's what friends do for each other. Help them along. And you know what else, I give them all 5 stars. Because anything less wouldn't be right. And so what. Sure there are things in the book I didn't like, sure there were typo's and other junk I saw, but I don't mention it in the review. I save that for a personal note. Why should I lambast another in public? It won't give me anything but a bad taste in my mouth. And if you can't say anything nice about someone, then don't say anything at all. And then there is always Karma ready to kick your ass at a moment's notice. What goes around comes back around and when it does... well, let's hope no one gets hurt. I figure if I write good reviews, someone will do the same for me.
I know this post could be so much more, and perhaps I'll write more about it next week, but I keep missing my deadlines due to the dreaded moving debacle. And now the Monster is awake and nattering on about me setting up the pool today. It's supposed to be 100 degrees, so I guess it's time.
Do you post reviews?
Friday, June 29, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
An Itch I Can't Scratch
Well, it's been a week since I started moving. We've gotten just about 90% of the big stuff; still have the kitchen and office to do, but it's just so hot here now, I can't bear it one more second. Two more truck loads ought to do it with the last of the cumbersome furniture, and I'll make two or three small trips in the car every day until I'm done.
I have internet again, Yay! It wasn't as painful or as long to be out of it as I anticipated. I thought for sure 4-5 days, but the phone man came yesterday and set me up so I grabbed my computer last night and here I am.
My office is downstairs once again under the windows. Alas, my coveted office space on the other side of the house didn't work out as I expected. It is now a "holding" room for all the yard sale things and other stuff I just can't figure out what to do with for now.
However, in the office downstairs I have a small built in book shelf with a desk and drawer, my own desk, and then my long table. I'm looking forward to setting everything up. My windows overlook a panoramic view of treetops this time, instead of the fields. Very green, and somewhat boring, but it definitely beats a wall of concrete.
I haven't written a thing except an historical article (to be posted on the Romantic Friday Writer's Blog on Monday June 25 -- I'm their first guest post -- Yay) and let me tell you I'm itching to get started on something new. Or perhaps get into something and revise the snot out of it.
But my muse won't let me. He keeps saying, "NO". Very loudly and very clearly. "YOU MUST WAIT." I suppose I need to listen. He's usually always right.
I think it's because he knows I'm fragmented. I've half my stuff at the other house, half here, walking around both houses saying to myself, "Okay, what do I do next?" I mean, there are 10,000 things that need my attention, I really shouldn't sit down and waste my time at the computer if I won't be able to concentrate -- right?
Oh, but let me tell you, what great lines I've come up with over the last week. Opening lines, hooks, little bits of dialogue, dynamic narrative. It's killing me to not write them down. (It's a mad scramble here to find to a pen, never mind a piece of paper). I'm hoping I remember even three of them when I finally do sit down.
Anyway, that's where I am this week. Hopefully, next week, I'll be in a much better space in my head.
I have internet again, Yay! It wasn't as painful or as long to be out of it as I anticipated. I thought for sure 4-5 days, but the phone man came yesterday and set me up so I grabbed my computer last night and here I am.
My office is downstairs once again under the windows. Alas, my coveted office space on the other side of the house didn't work out as I expected. It is now a "holding" room for all the yard sale things and other stuff I just can't figure out what to do with for now.
However, in the office downstairs I have a small built in book shelf with a desk and drawer, my own desk, and then my long table. I'm looking forward to setting everything up. My windows overlook a panoramic view of treetops this time, instead of the fields. Very green, and somewhat boring, but it definitely beats a wall of concrete.
I haven't written a thing except an historical article (to be posted on the Romantic Friday Writer's Blog on Monday June 25 -- I'm their first guest post -- Yay) and let me tell you I'm itching to get started on something new. Or perhaps get into something and revise the snot out of it.
I think it's because he knows I'm fragmented. I've half my stuff at the other house, half here, walking around both houses saying to myself, "Okay, what do I do next?" I mean, there are 10,000 things that need my attention, I really shouldn't sit down and waste my time at the computer if I won't be able to concentrate -- right?
Oh, but let me tell you, what great lines I've come up with over the last week. Opening lines, hooks, little bits of dialogue, dynamic narrative. It's killing me to not write them down. (It's a mad scramble here to find to a pen, never mind a piece of paper). I'm hoping I remember even three of them when I finally do sit down.
Anyway, that's where I am this week. Hopefully, next week, I'll be in a much better space in my head.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
The Move
Geez, you would think now that I've begun a brand new blog I would keep on top of posting. I did say I would post only on Thursday, and here it is, Thursday.
I apologize. But I've been busy this morning. I've been up since six, worked on an article for RFW, was supposed to work on the end pages for RY to add in the first chapter of SECRETS ON THE BEACH, but my back started to hurt from this durn chair. I decided to go upstairs and start packing instead.
We're moving. Tomorrow. Or starting to move, tommorow. I hate moving. I'm a Taurus and hate change. BUT, the house we're moving to has 1800 more square feet. I get my own office, two fireplaces, a real living room, a real dining room and Monster has her own playroom. YAY! No more sharing between us.
The cat knows something is going on and has been twitching her tail all day. The dogs are following me from room to room, outside with the laundry, back inside. I can hear their little yips, "Where are you going now? What are you doing with those boxes? Are we coming too?"
Truthfully, when we first moved down here to NC, I thought this was going to be our, if not "forever" home, our home until at least Monster graduated from high school. But the house a door down from my parents became available so it seemed the best thing to do. They're getting older, my father's been in and out of illness for the last couple of years, my mother is slowing down, her eyesight is getting worse. It's just the right thing to do.
So, amidst the boxes and dust, newspapers and bubble wrap, my life is changing again. It's funny that five and a half years ago I didn't know what the future held. Had no clue. Was living day to day waiting for something to happen to me. And now here I am, a writer, with a paycheck, moving upward and forward.
Truthfully, I won't miss this house. I'll miss the soybean fields I stare out at from my office windows. I'll miss the deer who come to feed every morning . I'll miss the trees in the back yard because they support my three clothes lines. But I won't miss the house. It wasn't the right house for me and Monster. My father always said that. But it's served its purpose.
I do not know if I'll have the computer up and running or not next week. At this point it's anyone's guess. I have to have phone lines set up in the office at the new house. Let's pray for an easy peasy lemon squeazy installation.
Thanks for stopping by. I'll see you when I do.
Image from confidentwriting.com
We're moving. Tomorrow. Or starting to move, tommorow. I hate moving. I'm a Taurus and hate change. BUT, the house we're moving to has 1800 more square feet. I get my own office, two fireplaces, a real living room, a real dining room and Monster has her own playroom. YAY! No more sharing between us.
The cat knows something is going on and has been twitching her tail all day. The dogs are following me from room to room, outside with the laundry, back inside. I can hear their little yips, "Where are you going now? What are you doing with those boxes? Are we coming too?"
Truthfully, when we first moved down here to NC, I thought this was going to be our, if not "forever" home, our home until at least Monster graduated from high school. But the house a door down from my parents became available so it seemed the best thing to do. They're getting older, my father's been in and out of illness for the last couple of years, my mother is slowing down, her eyesight is getting worse. It's just the right thing to do.
So, amidst the boxes and dust, newspapers and bubble wrap, my life is changing again. It's funny that five and a half years ago I didn't know what the future held. Had no clue. Was living day to day waiting for something to happen to me. And now here I am, a writer, with a paycheck, moving upward and forward.
Truthfully, I won't miss this house. I'll miss the soybean fields I stare out at from my office windows. I'll miss the deer who come to feed every morning . I'll miss the trees in the back yard because they support my three clothes lines. But I won't miss the house. It wasn't the right house for me and Monster. My father always said that. But it's served its purpose.
I do not know if I'll have the computer up and running or not next week. At this point it's anyone's guess. I have to have phone lines set up in the office at the new house. Let's pray for an easy peasy lemon squeazy installation.
Thanks for stopping by. I'll see you when I do.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Stretching
I've been writing solidly for the last 5 years. Mostly Regency romance. There's a certain knack for writing in Old British verbiage that I've found comforting to me. Perhaps it's my upbringing in New England. My ancestors span the 400 years since the Pilgrims landed in Plymouth. Perhaps it's just that I love Jane Austen so much, I'm channeling. I don't know.
Whatever it is, it's kept me happy.
When I wrote REMEMBERING YOU, I had moved from New England down South. To say it was a change of pace is an understatement. I had left the beach I grew up on and ended up in the mountains, all closed in space, no blue/grey water anywhere. In the back of my property is 20 acres of a soybean field, which is nice. Every morning around 7am, the deer come and feed. But it's not the ocean.
Over the course of the last couple of years, I've been lucky enough to have some short literary fiction published in a few anthologies. I'll admit, I struggle with literary fiction. But I do like it. Short, sweet, and to the point. I like that I don't really have to think too much about plot and dialogue and all that. Somehow, I get an idea, write it down, tweak it (800 times - there's no sense lying that it's easy), and it's done.
Recently, I came across a memoir. I've actually read a few of them in the last few years, but didn't actually know it. They're different. It's a different cadence, a different genre, a different style. I had an experience a few weeks back that took me to a few memories I thought I'd safely tucked away. Well, in the course of thinking about them, I knew I needed to write them down, and it took the form of memoir. I gave it to my crit partner, and well, let's just say she wasn't impressed.
I suppose I wasn't really looking for glowing reviews. I don't know what I was looking for other than a way to express myself when it came to these events.
I'm a Taurus, plain and simple. I hate change. I hate anything that's out of my comfort zone.
But I do think that every once in a while, it's good to stretch our creative wings. Even if we don't end up with the desired results, at least we tried.
Whatever it is, it's kept me happy.
When I wrote REMEMBERING YOU, I had moved from New England down South. To say it was a change of pace is an understatement. I had left the beach I grew up on and ended up in the mountains, all closed in space, no blue/grey water anywhere. In the back of my property is 20 acres of a soybean field, which is nice. Every morning around 7am, the deer come and feed. But it's not the ocean.
Over the course of the last couple of years, I've been lucky enough to have some short literary fiction published in a few anthologies. I'll admit, I struggle with literary fiction. But I do like it. Short, sweet, and to the point. I like that I don't really have to think too much about plot and dialogue and all that. Somehow, I get an idea, write it down, tweak it (800 times - there's no sense lying that it's easy), and it's done.
Recently, I came across a memoir. I've actually read a few of them in the last few years, but didn't actually know it. They're different. It's a different cadence, a different genre, a different style. I had an experience a few weeks back that took me to a few memories I thought I'd safely tucked away. Well, in the course of thinking about them, I knew I needed to write them down, and it took the form of memoir. I gave it to my crit partner, and well, let's just say she wasn't impressed.
I suppose I wasn't really looking for glowing reviews. I don't know what I was looking for other than a way to express myself when it came to these events.
I'm a Taurus, plain and simple. I hate change. I hate anything that's out of my comfort zone.
But I do think that every once in a while, it's good to stretch our creative wings. Even if we don't end up with the desired results, at least we tried.
Monday, June 4, 2012
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