Now Available: Iron Thirst

We will return to our regular scheduled broadcast shortly, but first, breaking news...

It's release day for Iron Thirst!

Funny thing, too! Last night, I finished all the steps to have it published, and the little message I received said it would take about three days. That seemed fine to me, because DragonCon is this weekend, and DragonCon was my goal. However, when I checked this morning, I was shocked to find it was already sitting happily on Amazon.

This was so huge for me. This may be one of the biggest TO-DO items that I have ever checked off of my list. Every year I get so mad at myself when yet another DragonCon passes and Iron Thirst still is just hanging out on my computer, completely left out of the party. This year it is dressed and ready to go.

Currently, only the Kindle version is available. You can download the sample to see if it's your bag.  I'm working on the details for the paperback version, and I hope to have that available soon for those of us who still prefer to dog-ear pages. I'm not leaving anyone out. Hell, once that happens, I can send a copy to my mom! Don't you think she would love to read about vampires, murder, and mayhem?! (No, no, she wouldn't. She will hate it. But, she would still be proud of it.)

So, if you have a few spare minutes toss this one in your "to be read" pile.

IRON THIRST: AVAILABLE ON AMAZON

Adam Bristow is a sarcastic forensics biologist, who has been tasked to keep an eye on the vampires that are popping up all over DragonCon. He and his team are in charge of keeping the vampires a secret and not letting the costumed fans become lunch. Armed with wit, guns, and a stiletto, he realizes quickly that his team is outnumbered and headed for trouble, although he would never admit that out loud.

Meanwhile, looking for an escape from the norm, Felicity Johnson dresses for trouble, and finds it when she steps into the magic of this pop culture convention. The trip that started as a search for adventure leads her down a path that could leave her either dead or with the ultimate makeover, one that can only be undone with a stake to the heart.

Iron Thirst is a funny, murder mystery, with a love story.  

A special thank you so much to those who have already downloaded it!

You rock!!!

Excerpt from Iron Thirst: Welcome to DragonCon

An excerpt from the first chapter of Iron Thirst.  Felicity, Mike, and Christian arrive at DragonCon in Atlanta, GA. 

*** 

To get our ID badges, we wait in a line that looks like a mighty rainbow-colored python coiling around the large building. Well, a rainbow with lots of black in it. It slithers along as each person gives their name to the gatekeeper to get their pass. After nearly three hours of shifting from foot to foot, we finally gain entrance into this magical land. 

We find a corner to sit and begin taking in the thirty-seven page program that lists the events, exhibits, parties, and other things that there are to do at DragonCon. Each of us flips through our copy searching for things of interest to us. There is so much to take in, and I must admit I am overwhelmed and out of my element. 

“They have a class on how to survive a zombie attack,” Mike says sarcastically.

“Really, when?” Christian asks.

Mike turns to me. “I was kidding.”

I toss my head back and laugh. Poor Mike has no idea what he has gotten himself into. After continuing to look through the program, I find something of interest to me. “Hey, Nancy Leigh Johnston will be doing a lecture on how she came up with the premise for her latest book. That will be awesome.”

“Guys, they have real live wrestling,” Mike says.

“Isn’t that an oxymoron?” I laugh and a snort slips through my nose.

“You’re the moron,” Mike retorts, making a snorting noise back at me.

“Why don’t we walk around for a bit and get our bearings?” Christian suggests.

We all agree. Tossing the programs into Christian’s backpack, we head off to explore.

Con takes place in four hotels over four days. Two of the hotels are attached to a large mall by a cylindrical glass tunnel that stretches over the streets below. People move between the buildings like hamsters through the tubes. The other two hotels are within walking distance. It is so simple to get confused between them. Even easier to get completely turned around, which only adds to the adventure and mystery.

After much walking and exploring, Christian pulls the program from his backpack. He walks over to a bench to sit down. My feet thank him, and I follow. Mike looks back at me with a grin and then struts towards a woman wearing a bikini made of chainmail. The tiny chinks of metal barely cover her, but no critical flesh is exposed.

“So what’s next, party leader?” I ask, sitting down next to Christian.

“I’m not sure. I don’t really have anything planned until later this afternoon. Did you see something you wanted to check out?” he asks, passing me the booklet.

“I want to go back to the art room, but I think we will need to leave that one somewhere first.” I point to Mike.

Christian laughs. His stomach growls loud enough that I can hear it. “I’m getting hungry,” he says, grabbing his tummy to quiet it down.

“Me too. What is Mike doing?” I lean to the side to get a better look.

Mike is fiddling with the pieces of metal on the woman’s outfit while talking to her. She is smiling uncomfortably, then suddenly, is smiling no longer.

Christian stands to see what I’m looking at right when a large man with hair down to his waist approaches Mike. He is carrying a golden shield and wearing leather armor. We could divide him in half and make two people; he is that big. But judging by the expression on his face, Mike is the one in danger of being torn in half.

“Uh oh,” says Christian, walking towards them.

“Is there a reason you are touching my wife?” asks the voice equally as large as the man.

“I was admiring the craftsmanship,” says Mike, “Did you make this?”

“Hands off, or you will be one with the pavement.”

“Look, there’s no reason to be a jerk,” he says, retrieving the offending hand from the silver armor. 

“Your chick is hot, but I was just looking at how the damn thing was made.” His feet aren’t moving, but he is beginning to tap dance. A poor attempt to save his hide.

The man’s chest gets wider. I didn’t think that was possible. Christian steps in front of our friend, the moron, and pushes him the other direction, adding, “We were leaving. Sorry for the trouble.”

The man turns his back, leaving Mike upright and in one piece.

“Dammit, dude. I’m telling you right here and now, that was it. That’s your get out of jail free card. 

The next time you are on your own. You will just have to get pounded into the ground,” Christian says, his face a splotchy red.

“What? His woman’s running around wearing that, and he’s mad at me?”

“Dude, you were sticking your fingers through the chains.”

Mike laughs. “Yeah, she let me. This place is awesome.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Let’s go eat.”

We take one of the glass walkways over to the mall.

The food court at Peachtree Center is so surreal during DragonCon. We pass two women dressed as leaders of an empire getting their shoes shined, and we giggle like children.

We split up, and each of us picks a place to grab our choice of food. My taste buds decide that I’ll be having stir-fry on a bed of white rice. I’m on my way back to the table with my red tray, when I feel a crunch under my boot.

A young man with a pipe says in a faint English accent, “Love, I’m the only one that stands on my feet. Off.”

His hair is but a shadow on his head, like he is waiting for it to sprout. He’s tall, slender, cute, but obviously obnoxious.

I blush and stammer, “I’m…I’m terribly sorry.”

“It’s alright, love. We can’t all watch where we are going.”

I can’t help but laugh. At this rate, either clumsiness or stupidity is going to get us in a world of trouble.

Recycled: Can't Stop Reading

What makes a page turner? What about a book keeps you from sleeping?

At some point, each of us has come across a book that has grabbed us by both eyes and not let go. We’ve fought to put it down, and failed horribly. They’ve left us walking into work with dark circles under our eyes. Forced us to spend our lunch hours tearing through as many chapters as possible. Turned us into complete addicts.

Twilight did this to me, and though I loved them, it wasn’t the stellar writing – it was something else. Hunger Games is another that kept me up at night. Let’s go old school – Bridget Jones Diary. So what is it about these books? Are the pages lined with crack?

I went back and looked at some of the books that have done this to me to see what it was that made me cling to them, and choose reading versus a night out on the town.

Characters you genuinely care about – Becoming emotionally invested in a character, will keep you coming back with every spare minute you can muster. You know if it ends poorly—you will need to take a few days off to mourn. A character that you relate to and desperately want to see succeed.

Cliffhangers at the end of chapters – We naturally want to close a book at the end of a chapter versus the middle, but when the chapter ends with a car wreck—we HAVE to know who lives, who dies, and how the heck’s the Ferrari. So, we start the new chapter, and darn now we are back in the middle. Keep reading. Now, the body is missing. Well, where did it go? Next thing you know it’s 3:00 am, and you’re hiding in the closet with a flashlight trying not to wake the rest of the house.

Reverse Arc – A story has a natural arc. Each chapter is generally designed the same, building to the climax and then slowly bringing the reader back down. The reverse arc throws all that out the window- starting with action, covering slower parts in the middle of the chapter, and planting you back at the top of a climax at the end, propelling you into the next chapter.

Forget the drapes - Now, I personally have a tendency of skipping past the pages of beautifully written prose discussing the tiny butterfly pattern that is woven into the blue wallpaper. Couldn’t care less. I want to know where the heck did Hot Guy go, and is he the one holding the bloody knife? Maybe that’s just me, but a book that leaves a reader quivering for more is not doing so because of the mass amount of description. I couldn’t tell you what Bella’s room looked like, but I can tell you there was a vampire hanging out in there.

This can not end well – A storyline that appears to have a definitive ending, one that will crush your soul, but the writer gives you the tiniest inkling of hope--will pull you to the end. You may be reading it while peering through your fingers, but you are reading forward. I give it up to Stephanie Meyer on this one for sure. Breaking Dawn! Hello! ‘Nuff said.

Make ‘em laugh – A book that is just fun to read will make a reader cling to it, and heck, even come back for more. It’s not the same Zombie response of, “Must finish book, have to finish book, Boooook.” But the pages flick by just the same. You know the saying – time flies when you are having fun – well so do the chapters. Bridget Jones Diary was one of the first books that did this to me. I hoped things would work out for her, but laughing out loud alone in the dark is why I could not put that book down.

This list is not complete, but I think it’s a good start. So you tell me ...

What are some other things that glue you to the writing? Do you use any of these page turning techniques in your writing? What’s a book that grabbed you and wouldn’t let you go?

No Thanks, but I'll Tell Ya Why

I set off on the mission of querying a couple of months ago. I felt great about the condition of my manuscript, I had two versions of query letters, and was off to find agents that represent my genre. I sent off one or two at a time, spacing them out. I decided to query slowly.

I received a few no’s, but also received a few requests for partials. Let me tell you—that is an exciting yet terrifying experience. Sometimes I don’t know which I was more concerned with – the yes or the no. Am I ready for this?

But one of the most spectacular things happened. I received the mystical helpful rejection. The agent said he would pass, but he was very honest about exactly why. He offered advice to improve the manuscript. In the writing world, this is the next best thing to a yes. Wow!

Now, I will be honest. I read it just like I’ve read all of my initial critiques. The first time with my heart broken, the second time in denial, and then when I was ready – with my mind open.

I began planning the new direction for the book, taking his advice to heart. In my particular case, it involved trimming down the beginning and streamlining the initial plot. I chopped nearly seventeen pages out of the first fifty, adding more strategically placed cliffhangers to help pull the reader forward.

There were some really fun scenes that had to be pulled. It hurt to do so, but I believe it truly helped the story. And with this new beginning, the book reads more like a supernatural romance than the original urban fantasy that I had been trying to sell it as. A slight switch, but the reader can get a feel for what they are getting themselves into much quicker.

So, my fine penned friends, it pays to query slowly. Had I sent out a large chunk of letters, I would have burnt bridges with a version of a book that wasn’t where it needed to be. And like I said – I needed the advice of a professional to get it closer to perfection. Not to mention, I took it as a huge compliment that the agent took his time to give me advice.

If you are querying – query slowly. Give agents the time to review your work. Make changes, keep growing, and above all – don’t give up!

How’s your writing or querying going?

Randomly Delicious & Blogfest: First Pages

Tomorrow is the last day for the The Keep It Going Contest. Post a comment tallying your entries. Add to the story if you have time. There are multiple ways to win. Don't miss out. Act now. Supplies are limited. Wait,what were we talking about? Oh, yea - sorry, I was momentarily possessed by an infomercial. I'm better now.

BLOGFEST!! Yay!!  Kelly over at Kelly's Compositions has come up with a wonderful idea for a blogfest. As she says, in most blogfests we post excerpts from the middle of our novels. This is a great opportunity to start in the beginning.

This is perfect timing, because I've been thinking about beginnings. This week I started a new WIP, a YA paranormal. And as I tweeted last night (FOLLOW ME), I've had to remind myself not to stress about the beginning in the beginning, because I write a better beginning in the end. That's the only nugget of wisdom that I can share today. Beginning a new WIP, always leaves me feeling quite humbled and terrified. It's like a first date. Is this the one? Do I want to spend all my free time with these characters, this plotline? Is there a better one out there for me? Is this the best for me now? But the answer is quite simply, you'll never know unless you try. Tell the voice of doubt to shut the hell up, and write your heart out.

Back to blogfest. I'm pulling this from my finished WIP, Iron Thirst. The novel has two beginnings: prologue and chapter 1. This excerpt is from chapter 1 where we meet Felicity Johnson. Hope you enjoy.

***

-->

Who knew two tiny fangs could be so hard to find? I bought the pair nearly five months ago, and I specifically remember thinking to put them somewhere that I could find them. My room is a complete and utter disaster. I have been through every drawer, emptying the contents onto my bed in search for the last thing needed to complete my costume. I can’t be a vampire without fangs.

            I plop down on the bed, and close my eyes. Where did I put them?

            “Bathroom, second drawer, along with the red contacts,” I say aloud to the ceiling.

             I leap from the bed. Christian will be here any minute, and I want him to see the complete look. I slide open the drawer, and there they sit. I can’t believe I forgot the contacts too. They set me back nearly a hundred bucks.

            I insert the teeth, and begin trying to attach the colored plastic to my eyeballs. I should’ve waited on the eye makeup. I run back to my closet to grab shoes.

Zipping up the knee-high leather boots, I stop by the mirror for one last look. The struggle was well worth it. My eyes glow a bright crimson with black around the edges, as if the fire inside has burnt the curved periphery. I bounce my palm off the spikes of my black pixie wig. The menacing grin is complete with two sharp fangs over my scarlet red lips that look poised to wreak havoc amongst the unsuspecting city of Atlanta.

            Well, the town won’t be that unsuspecting, considering the rest of the people at DragonCon will also be dressed in costumes ranging from Star Trek to Night of the Living Dead.

As I darken the shadows under my eyes to give myself the true undead look, the doorbell rings. I slide down the banister to get to the door--safer than taking the stairs in these boots.

I fling the door open, and there he stands. We both let out a scream and begin cackling at each other. Christian is a yicky-ucky zombie, complete with a tattered, stained, once-white shirt, suspenders, and pants that look as if they had been buried. His normally perfect hair is dirty and a total mess. His skin is painted a weird grayish green, and his mouth is bloodstained. No one would recognize this scary critter as my clean-cut best buddy.

 “Felicity Johnson, you look a-freakin-mazing. I would have never thought that you, of all people, could pull this off.”

I should be offended, but he is quite right. Everyday “me” is not sexy, not scary, and definitely not a vampire.

Confusing Me Will Only Make Me Better

Yesterday, I mentioned that I have a chapter currently up for review on Critique Circle.com. For those of you that are not familiar with this site, it is a free website where writers can post their work for others to review. You earn points for reviewing other people’s chapters or short stories and then use those points to post your own work. It’s a great place to get many critiques on individual chapters in a short amount of time. Your pages are up for one week and can be critiqued by as many as six critiques as a newbie, and an unlimited amount as you move out of that queue. On average, I normally receive about 5 or 6.

What I find the most interesting is the range of those critiques, which is true with all critique groups. Each of them provides great insight, and what I can take from them is invaluable. I have received four different critiques so far, but they are so varied from each other that they remind me of this season of American Idol.

RANDY: Dog, that was a hot one right there! I’m blown away. (Stand up, chair falls over)

ELLEN: That was great. Not what I would have done. Maybe exactly the same, but completely different. But I like you. (Awkwardly looks to Kara.)

KARA: I expected a little more, but I think it is a 100% improvement from before. (Cuddles up closer to Simon.) But you can do better. (Pushes Simon away.)

SIMON: Look, that was complete rubbish. I don’t know what I prayed for more—for it to end or for a power outage.

(Ok, I didn’t get any Simon’s. Thank goodness!! But I have in the past, and when I first started. I’m still traumatized. Haha.)

What is even funnier is that the site has a wonderful feature that allows you to combine all of the inline critiques into one document. Fantastic. Ok, that’s not the funny part. The funny part is that there was one line in particular that all four critiquers commented on. Two absolutely loved it with multiple exclamation marks, and the other two “didn’t get it” and it “just wasn’t working for me, dog.” That last one is not really a quote from the site. But you get the idea.

So what do you do?

--There are some things where they all pointed out the exact same thing. That’s easy – fix it.

--If one person points something out that no one else has ever touched on, I listen with both ears. I mull it over and see if there is validity to it.

--Split 50/50 – I have to follow my gut, listening to the arguments from both sides, and do what I think is right for my story.

--A mixed review? You can’t always just go with majority. Each review is slightly weighted. Do they read the genre; what is their experience; how far down the path are they; do they “get” my quirkiness? (Some people just don’t, and that’s ok.) But never discard based on any of those facts nor use them to just do whatever the heck you want. You have to listen, but the application of these critiques has to be well thought out.

--Lastly, don’t touch anything until it’s all had time to simmer. What may have earned an eye roll when you first read it – may turn out to be the best piece of advice you receive.

What may come from these critiques could be simple line edits (misplaced question mark that everybody except me caught) or major rewrites. Time will tell. I will tell you what I have learned so far--this is getting much closer to finished. Maybe just one more round. :-)

So, what do you do when you get conflicting critiques? What type of critique group are you in?

Just Breathe

I have pages in two different people’s hands right now, and my “new” first chapter is posted on Critique Circle.com. Having new people read your work is exhilarating and terrifying. And I’m very lucky and happy to have people that are browsing through my words, and helping make them stronger.

But it is full disclosure time. I am never more neurotic than when I am waiting on a review. I pray in time this will get better for the publishing business is all about waiting. I know this, and that is why I make sure that my crazy is kept internal. Well, with the exception of this post. The only reason that I share this so openly is because I don’t think that I am alone.

But you have to recognize this for what it is and not give into temptation to pester those blessed souls who have offered to read your work. To not fill their inbox with insane messages of …

--- “What page are you on?” ---

---“Nevermind, don’t read it. You won’t like it.”  ---

--- “I know you’ve had fifty pages for only thirty minutes, but what do you think?” ---

--- “Your silence means you hate it. Am I right?” ---

--- “Please love me.” ---

*Just so we are clear, I have never ACTUALLY sent any of those* :-)

Please note, my anxiety is not a reflection of the critiquers, only of my own impatience.

These people are there to help you get stronger, not to validate you as a writer. And the process of waiting is one that you must become accustomed to if you are serious about the business.

--- You must wait until your manuscript is ready before querying.

--- You must wait and query slowly—not sending a mass email to all agents who you think rock.

--- You must wait to hear back from said rockstar agents.

--- They ask for pages, you must wait to hear if they love them.

--- If they love them, you must wait for them to find the publisher that thinks you rock.

--- Found a publisher, you must wait on that much dreamed about cover.

--- Cover’s on shelf, you must wait to see if people love your characters as much as you do.

And if they do, all the waiting will make that moment all the sweeter.

No matter if it’s the wait for a critique, the wait for the words to be your version of perfect, or the agent’s email to finally hit your email box after the thirty-seventh time of you sending an email to yourself with the subject ‘TEST” – BREATHE!  Take a deep breath, find something else to do, channel your anxiety into beautiful art, and don’t forget how blessed you are to have been given the gift of words.

The choice to write can be made in a minute, but the decision to become a writer is not one that should be taken lightly. It is a journey no less difficult than Frodo’s. This business requires determination, courage, resolve, patience, strength, and wonderful friends who help put you back on the right path when one of those is faltering.

Celebrate each accomplishment. Brush off each down fall. And put your best write forward.

Much love to all of you for being my Samwise on this journey!

So tell me. What are you waiting on? Are you a patient person? Do you stress when others have your work? Or do you stay cool as a cucumber?

One Step Closer

-->

Last night, I pulled all of the chapters out of their manila envelopes; three-hole punched them, and placed them in a binder. My eyes couldn’t help but tear up. Sitting on my bed was a blue three-ring binder filled with my words. An actual book. The thickness of the stacked paper sprinkled with black twelve point font caused the tears to spill over.

So many times along the road, I questioned if I would see it through. And staring back at me was proof that I would.

There is much work to still be done. A complete set of revisions and formatting it into manuscript form. But the story has been told. Felicity and Blake and all the wonderful characters that have been living inside my head have told their story. Now it’s up to me to polish it, and prepare it for its journey.

This is merely the beginning.

The House that Margaret Built

My husband and I recently had the opportunity to tour the Margaret Mitchell house, cleverly marketed as the birthplace of Gone with the Wind. I’m not sure what I expected when I walked in there, but whatever it was, I was wrong.

We paid the twelve bucks each to take the tour. I did not read the brochure before, so I was unaware that although the building was three story highs we would be seeing three rooms on the first floor. The large gift shop was about the size of half the space that we would be touring. About six of us lined up while a magenta haired woman took center stage.

She begins the tour by telling us who saved the building, which was once apartment buildings, from destruction, about multiple fires, and how the tile floor is the original tile floor. I would quickly learn that would be one of the only things that was original. Well, except for a toilet, but don’t get excited, it wasn’t Margaret’s toilet. No chance of sitting down and channeling greatness. It belonged to an apartment on the third floor.

She then complained in great detail because the keys were not numbered while searching for the one that would open Apartment Number One. My mood quickly shifted for the worst. The tour was of the apartment where she lived while writing the book. The walls, I think were even new. A living room, bed room, kitchen (smaller than most closets), and a bathroom with the third floor toilet. All filled with antique furniture purchased to give the appearance of what it would have looked like.

It wasn’t the short tour that aggravated me. It was the woman. I’m not sure that she has even read GWTW. She seemed so uneducated. She walked from room to room speculating and making weird comments about the photos. I was none too happy with my trusty tour guide.

When we excited, I finally went off on my own. I walked over to a plaque on the wall and began to read. And this was the place where everything changed. Margaret Mitchell’s first fiancé went to war, but never came home. Her first husband was a drunk and very abusive. She married a second time. She said that before she wrote GWTW, she read up everything she could get her hands on and feeling frustrated she started her own book. Her famous quote was “In a weak moment, I have written a book. “ (My closest friends will understand that.) And lastly, when she finished chapters she would put them in manila envelopes and send them to a friend who would read them. By the time I finished reading this plaque, my face was soaked. Tears involuntarily flowing down my face. My husband, who was reading along with me, says, “Wow, ya’ll have a lot in common.” And here, I thought I was nuts.

We walked over to the movie memorabilia part of the house. I turned to my husband and said, “If I ever make it big, let’s systematically burn and destroy every house we have ever lived in.” He laughed. He thought I was kidding.

But then Ann saved the day. I was standing in the gift shop holding a cookbook titled “Gone with the Grits” with complete disgust, when a southern woman’s twang filled the air. It was time for the 3:30 tour. Her humor and knowledge struck me. We took the tour again. She knew so much about the petite author, you would have thought they were old friends. She gave us gossip, and was full of laughs. A real tribute to the personality and quirkiness of Margaret Mitchell. By the end of the tour, I wanted to hug her neck.

I then went home and smiled at my own pile of manila envelopes filled with chapters.

Thanks Tour Guide Ann!