My Regency romance Brynnde is FREE through Tuesday! Click here to get your ebook! And look for Faebourne in November!
A week ago, I lost hearing in my left ear. Honestly, it just felt muffled, like when you change elevations. But nothing I did could clear it. So I went to the doctor.
She looked in my ear and told me it appeared my eardrum had ruptured.
She wanted me to see an ENT, but of course they couldn’t get me in until yesterday. So for a week I’ve been deaf in one ear, and I’ve also had to take antibiotics because my ear started weeping. Ugh. That, in turn, led to ear pain and jaw pain and a swollen lymph node. I couldn’t chew, so I had to eat only soup and other soft foods like pasta.
It’s been a blast.
The ENT first gave me a hearing test, which I felt was kind of dumb since it was more than clear I can’t hear out of one ear. The test confirmed this. But it also made clear that (a) my right ear works beautifully, and (b) the problem with my left ear is not permanent. The bone and nerves are fine. It’s the middle ear that has an issue.
Finally, they actually looked in my ear. And it turns out I’d won the lottery. I have an ear infection AND a perforated eardrum. So they sucked gunk out of my ear, then put more gunk into my ear to clear the infection. I have to walk around with this gunk in my ear for a week. Then I get to go back to the ENT and have them suck it out. Hopefully that’s all that will be required. They can’t get a good look at the eardrum until this bit is taken care of. Once it is, they’ll be able to tell whether the eardrum is healing on its own (which is most likely) or will need to be patched.
What does this have to do with writing? Well, I’ve lost a week to having earaches that felt like someone was stabbing me in the ear with a screwdriver. (And now the inside of my ear is crazy itchy, but there’s nothing I can do about it.) The sum total is that I’ll probably have to push back Faebourne‘s release again. Sigh. It’s a mess, I’m a mess, the world is a mess. Best laid plans and all that. But I don’t want to release a half-baked book, so I’m going to take my time and do it right. I thank you for your patience and promise it will be worth it in the end.
So I have a Tumblr that I only recently started seriously playing with. I was using it as a place to shelve snippets of a fanfic. But though some of the “chapters” got attention, it seems to have tapered off. That might be because I’ve been away on vacation (I did post a few pics while away, and I’m not officially “back” yet, but I’m home for a day before going off on the next leg, hence this post). Or it might be because I’m just not very good . . . at writing, or “tumbling” or whatever. Dunno.
Social media is so, so tricky. We’re told we need it in order to succeed as authors (or in other creative fields). Major companies are convinced they need a social media presence, too. But what we’re really feeding is our craving for validation. And we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment. Or worse. People get more depressed when faced with Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. They see others getting all the followers and Likes, and they feel like failures. Comparison is the thief of joy, or so the saying goes, and social media is really just a massive platform for measuring how “popular” you are. Or aren’t.
I have several friends who have recently announced they’re deleting their Facebook accounts. I’m tempted to do the same. A few years back I slashed and burned a number of my accounts and profiles, but it seems to have ballooned again. There’s always some new platform that authors are being told they need to be on.
For those wondering about the fic on Tumblr, it was inspired by my recent reading of The Raven Cycle. I actually indexed the posts on this post. And then there is a post that came after those. Though I know where the story is going, I’m not sure I’ll bother actually writing it. Social media saps the joy and desire from me, forcing me to face the indifference of the world to my work. It perpetuates the feelings we had in school, I think: there are those who have all the friends (and followers), and those who have only a few . . . or none. The kids at the crowded cafeteria table versus the kids sitting alone.
I’ve officially closed out all outstanding queries for Hamlette. There are still some agents who requested pages that, despite my follow-up emails, have yet to respond, but as time passes, I hold out less hope that they’ll be interested.
Right now I’m focused on finishing up Faebourne and then I’ll decide what to do with Hamlette. Thanks to everyone who has critiqued and beta’d it, and those who keep asking when/if. I’ll let you know. 😘
So I have a couple bits of information for you. 1. The release date for Faebourne has been pushed back a bit. I really resisted doing this, but in order to give you the best possible book, it’s going to take me a little more time. And I’d rather give you a good book than a rushed one. The new publication date is 4 September.
2. For those of you in the Bay Area, I’ll be giving a presentation about writing and publishing at the Livermore Public Library in November. Yes, it’s some months away! But mark your calendars now so you don’t forget: 15 November, 7:00 p.m.. I’ll talk about the writing process and also about various publishing options. Just in time for NaNoWriMo!
And finally, a reminder that Brynnde is now available in audiobook format. You can pick it up here. And then you’ll finally know how to properly pronounce “Brynnde”!
I have a few things going on at the moment. For one, trying to get Faebourne ready for publication in August. For another, I’m waiting on responses to Hamlette from five places that are considering it. And then my short story “The Zodiac Clock” is likewise on submission to four places.
I’ve stopped submitting both Hamlette and “The Zodiac Clock.” If Hamlette doesn’t take, I’ll most likely self-publish it. Probably the same for “TZC” though I’d maybe try to write a few more stories and package it as an anthology.
I’m also waiting to hear from conferences where I’ve been put on lists to possibly be a featured author. I love going to conferences, but I’m at the point that I can’t justify the expense—particularly if there is a lot of travel—unless I’m at least contributing and being acknowledged. Still, I also recognize that I’m not as well known as some authors, and conferences want known names that will draw a crowd. At the same time, it’s a bit like the book marketing and publicity Catch-22: publishers put their marketing dollars behind authors who already sell. You’d think conference-goers would maybe get tired of the same handful of authors at each event and instead look for some new and interesting names? Or not.
I try not to be bitter, but I’ll admit a certain amount of frustration. People will say I should hide that side of me, but I believe in being real and honest about the hardships of being an author. It’s not all glamor. A lot of the time it feels like scraping and elbowing your way through a densely packed crowd.
So why call this post “A Handful of Water”? Because that’s also what it feels like: trying to hold something in your hands that leaks through. It’s fluid, and it’s running everywhere. I’ve got so much going on with submissions and my WIP . . . It’s hard to hold on to it all sometimes. And maybe I don’t have to. Maybe the only person who insists on it is me. I don’t know why I put so much pressure on myself, but . . . I feel worthless otherwise. All I have to offer the world is me and my work. If that’s not enough, then I don’t know why I’m here.
Some of you know that I’ve been shopping my YA contemporary version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Since beta readers seem to enjoy it but agents keep passing on it, I decided to submit to BookLife’s Prize for a bit of objective feedback. I’m overall pretty pleased with the results.
Plot/Idea: 9 out of 10
Originality: 8 out of 10
Prose: 9 out of 10
Character/Execution: 8 out of 10
Overall: 8.50 out of 10
Plot: Langlinais artfully mirrors without overly mimicking the play-within-a-play of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with a storyline that is fast-paced and engagingly plotted.
Prose: The author’s prose crackles with rhythmic writing and colorful similes, ably capturing young voices while gently mocking the weirdness of adults.
Originality: Though the book’s plot tracks the classic play Hamlet, it does so with a great deal of fluidity and flair.
Character Development: Langlinais takes familiar YA types and invests them with refreshing resonance.
I think the lowish marks for originality stem from the fact I’m adapting a known property. I might need to key up some of the character/execution, though. It’s nice to have something to focus on if/when I go back to it. For now Faebourne has all my attention.
Due out 7 August!
It’s part Regency romance, part fairy tale. To tide you over, here is a little excerpt:
“May I suggest, Miss Odette, that walking alone through dark forests is perhaps not the safest way to spend your evening?”
She pursed her perfectly rose pink lips at him. “I’m entirely safe barring any strange men carrying iron cauldrons. I’d say, in fact, I’m more safe alone with myself than alone with you.”
Duncan was tempted to point out that being with him meant she wasn’t alone but chose to pursue the greater point. “I promise I am no threat to you, Miss Odette.”
“Then why do you have that?” She pointed at the pot.
He grimaced, feeling foolish. The errand, after all, defied explanation, but he tried anyway. “I’m supposed to catch a—oh,” he said, realizing. “You’re… a song?”
“I’m always a song, and I’m sometimes a person,” she told him.
“You look remarkably like someone I know,” Duncan said. She was just Adelia’s height, too, and had her hair piled and curled in the same way. Odette’s movements and voice, however, were utterly different.
“All songs look like someone you know,” said Odette. “Or places. Some days I’m whole fields of flowers.” She gaze became distant and unfocused, her face alight and wistful. “Those are nice days.”
It’s time again for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group! Posts go up the first Wednesday of each month. Read more posts and/or join in here.
This month I’m mostly insecure about finishing this project in time for the August 7 release date!
Question of the Month: What’s harder for you to come up with, book titles or character names?
Oh, I’d say they’re equally difficult but not at the same time. I either have the title and the names become a challenge, or I have the characters and can’t think of a title. It never seems to be that both are easy or both are hard. I wonder why that is?
Though I’m focusing on Faebourne at the moment, I wanted to share this piece from The Great Divide (the sequel to Manifesting Destiny), given that it’s Pride Month:
Marcus shrugged, giving the impression of someone trying to find comfort in ill-fitting clothes. “Do you remember when we were thirteen? That’s when it changed.”
“That’s when you changed, you mean.” Cee gasped at her own words. She hadn’t meant to say them aloud.
“I never changed, Cee.” Marcus’s tone was dull, resigned, as though he’d had this argument with himself many times before. “It just never mattered until then. Until you decided it mattered. That day at the play.”
Cee opened her mouth to protest but couldn’t. He wasn’t wrong. She snapped her mouth shut and nodded.
They’d gone to see a play at the local theatre—Nitid Ink it had been called—and afterward gone for ice cream. While they ate, Cee gushed about how cute one of the actors had been, and without hesitation Marcus picked up the thread and enthused along with her. It had taken Cee by surprise, and afterward she could not help but notice which way Marcus’s eyes turned whenever they went out. Usually they were on their work, or trained on a book, but Cee couldn’t fail to miss the way those green eyes followed the male tennis team whenever they walked by, or how they lingered on magazine photos of good-looking young men.
After that, Cee had quit mentioning any guys she found attractive.
It only occurred to her as they stood there in the sun how unfair it had been of her to tacitly require Marcus to hide himself. She should have been there for him if it was something he wanted to discuss. Even if all he wanted to talk about were handsome actors, letting him do that—better yet, doing it with him—would have shown him she accepted him.
But she hadn’t accepted him, had she? Not really. She’d refused to accept that Marcus was gay because she wanted so badly for it to be otherwise. She wanted to pretend it wasn’t true.
Marcus’s voice broke through her epiphany. Cee blinked and discovered her cheeks were wet with tears. “Sorry,” she said, swiping at her face with her fingertips. “This isn’t—it’s not because you’re…” Her throat tried to close over the word but she made herself say it. “Gay. It’s because I’ve been such a bad friend. That day—I was so startled when you agreed with me about that actor I just pretended it never happened. And that wasn’t fair to you.”