My Agent Told Me To Make A Blog

I haven't done a signing yet, because I don't have a published book yet. I can imagine how that stage of the process must be exciting yet also terrifying; after months of hiding in your house talking to yourself in a word processor, it's time to go out and convince members of your community to buy and read the thing! As a writer myself, I'm a) instantly drawn to book-seller tables and b) overly compassionate toward local authors. I want to buy their book even if I'm pretty sure I won't like it. Unfortunately, some people make it pretty hard for me to keep wanting to buy their book. I mean, really, the cards are stacked in your favour--all you have to do is be polite and engaging, and I'm gonna buy it because you're a local author. Examples of what I'm talking about are people with tables at local fairs, festivals, and markets. I live in a small state, and we get really excited about local authors. When someone is pushy and condescending, it rea

I want to leave you with this little tidbit today. You know how when cows give birth, it's called calving? Guess what it's called when alpacas give birth. Unpacking. To use it in a sentence (a real quote from a veterinarian): "I have to go unpack an alpaca."

I've been keeping up with my flash fiction practice, so keep an eye out for more posts in the future! This is an older one, with a prompt given to a group of my writer friends. The prompt was to write about a character who has the ability to move heat like a heat pump, to an extreme degree. --- Chains of ice suspended the prisoner between walls of frozen steel. The chill in the air permeated every corner of the cell and sank into bone. His lone visitor had been outfitted in the same temperature-resistant suit that held the heat to her just as it prevented heat from reaching him. She stared at him through the glass of her helmet, and he met her gaze. “You idiot,” she said. Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. “How could you let yourself get caught?” “Ten more seconds,” he replied, “and I could have drained the shield generator.” “It’s not worth losing you.” He thought he heard something deeper in her tone, but she cleared her throat. “You’re our strongest weapon.” “

The past few months have been adventurous. We bought a house, which involved all the annoying house-buying paperwork and errands that you'd expect. We then moved house, which of course involved all the annoying moving that you'd expect. We have an additional cat, who's the best cat of all so far. I set up an office, with a new desk, chair, and shelving that I assembled all myself. And a beanbag chair that the cats like to monopolize. As far as reading goes, I've started American Gods , finished the Writing Excuses anthology Shadows Beneath , and am working through a collection of Lovecraftian Cthulhu-mythos short stories. Oh! and I quickly reread A Wrinkle in Time in preparation for the movie. Writing-wise, I've made a lot of important progress. I was stuck on a major revision for months. Like, point-of-nervous-breakdown stuck-- so much had to be changed, gutted, and rewritten. There were certain chapters that took weeks of writing, throwing out, and rewr