More Pictures From Iraq

Safety First Bubble Wrap Style
American Pride
Merry Christmas
Riding the bomb.

Reading Is Not Dead

The sky is falling, the sky is falling.

I need to be working on edit, so this will be short, but I wanted to share it.

As you all know, I’ve been getting acquainted with public transportation.

One thing that amazes me is the amount of reading on the bus. One woman, a few weeks ago had a large bag from Hastings. She was kind of frazzled looking and I could tell she’d really much rather be in bed than riding a bus. I probably looked the same way.

I asked her what she bought at Hastings.

“Oh, girl. I had to get out this morning. I ran out of books yesterday. I keep some of those puzzle books, but I have to read. No way nothing else satisfies me.”

She opened up her bag and started showing me her books. She had thirteen new romance books.

That prompted me to ask how long it would take her to finish them. Till the end of the month. She reads a book a day on average and she wants new books.

Two other ladies joined in the conversation. One of them likes Patterson, one likes King and Koontz. (Don’t you live for the day when people will recognize you by your last name?) Then they told me what the rest of their family likes.

There is seldom a day that someone isn’t reading, going to the bookstore or the library.

I know times are not rosy, but people are still reading.

Scenes from Iraq

Will and some of the others had to go to Baghdad on business. While they were there, they got a tour of one of the palaces. I wasn't crazy about him going to Baghdad, but I'm glad he got to see something besides sand. Three of the pictures are from the base. Can you find them?

Catching a nap.
Catching lots of naps.
Will and Speed in front of one of the reflecting pools at the palace.
Uday Chandelier 2
Uday easy chair
Uday Palace chanelier
Home!
Not even going to ask.

Et Cetera

It was winding up to be a pretty good night. I’m sad the weekend is already over, but I went through three more chapters and I broke the 138,000 word mark. That means 27,000 words have met their bitter end. Plus, chapter twenty-nine has the magic back and I still hacked some words. That was a tough chapter for me and I admit it made me sad even though I knew exactly what was coming.

I got a few boxes out of the living room and I have hopes it will one day look like a living room. That will probably be after I move, but I continue to hope.

I had to get all my medical bills together and I got most of those except the eye exams and glasses.

I may even have the kitchen clean. Yee haw!

On top of that, I squirreled around and came up with an intriguing, I think, idea. Rejection Letter Trading Cards. Think Pokemon or Magic only with agents and editors. Obviously, the attributes will be pretty rudimentary, but it should be fun. An agent gets to write their form rejection letter that goes with the card. If I can find some people willing to do some simple graphics, the cards will have artwork. They will also have ten magic attributes. So, when a person gets a rejection letter, they can lay claim to the agent’s trading card. Also, clients of agents can nominate them for a special card.

I think it will be fun and not overwhelming, if we get some help.

I should even have the laundry done and cookie dough made before I go to bed tonight.

To top it all off, I decided to go to the writer's retreat.

So, why the sad face?

Because people drive me out of my rabid mind.

If I can figure out how the Sarmatians made horse hoof armor, you can figure out bull riders don’t ride with a rawhide handle and pine tar. A kid who has never been on a bull isn’t going to go out and win $15,000 riding one who has never been ridden. I don’t care who his father is or grandfather is. Bullriding is in the jeans not the genes.

That is not a rawhide handle in his hand, it's a rope. It's still a rope.

Don’t write a book about something factual if you can’t be bothered to do the most rudimentary research. This boggles my mind it was even published.

It drives me insane. Totally, rabidly insane. You wouldn't like me when I'm insane.

Friends

As I’ve stated a time or two, I rather like being alone. I just putter around and sleep when I want, write when I want and do nothing if I want.

But I also treasure my friendships. Perhaps I have a split personality, I don’t know. At Surrey, I reveled in the chances to get together with people. The only down spot was missing Roxanne Snopek and I had hoped to spend time with her.

And what is odd is these friends are all ones I have met online. Most online friendships are bantering back and forth on the net and that’s about it.

As you all know, I took Barbara Rogan’s Next Level Workshop last year. I really debated about it because money was very tight and it was going to take some sacrificing to do it. A dear friend from a writer’s forum sent me a private message and asked me if she could bless me with the tuition. I cried and then declined. The workshop was a luxury, not a necessity, so if I couldn’t do it on my own I didn’t think I should do it.

Some friends are doing a writer’s retreat next month. They invited me and I considered it. Who wouldn’t? Five days with some incredibly talented writers I adore. The beach. I’ve never seen the beach. Five days of writing and encouragement would have been marvelous as I wrap Paladin up and, frankly, it would have been a welcome break from the grind. I’m tired and I need to recharge my batteries.

It wouldn’t be easy, but I could manage it if I cut out all spending for a while. There has been an unexpected turn in the divorce and I could be hit pretty hard. If things get really tough, I might regret money spent later.

When I sent back my regrets, one of them asked me if I would go if the plane fare and housing were taken care of. The selfish part of me wanted to jump up and down and squeal. The practical side of me reminded me this is a luxury and it wouldn’t be right.

Here is what amazes me. I have always been the caregiver. Others came first and I didn’t mind that. I assumed at some point in my life I would move up the line a bit in importance, but I finally gave up on that fairy tale.

But here are two friends who have said, “I would like to do this for you.” They offered from the heart and it makes me weep that someone cares so much.

They cared that I am happy and have the opportunity to write. They believe in me, more than I do at times. Of course, many of you will roll your eyes as you are in the believer’s corner also. Those words of encouragement are what keep me going in the dark times and I thank you all for being so precious to me.

I am amazed at how blessed I am.

The Request

First off, for those of you who aren't familiar with the query process, I'm going to line out what I do. This is, of course, after the manuscript is finished and polished, query letter is honed, synopsis and cover letter are done.

I got the agents for DANCING HORSES without it being done, but that isn't the way to do it.

1. Gather list of top twenty-five agents.

2. Do a little more research on them and shuffle the list around if need be.

3. Set up ledger.

4. Send out query with first few pages and wait.

5. As one is returned, make notes of how long it took, reactions, requests, suggestions and further action required.

6. Either send out requested material or send out new query.

7. This process goes on for weeks, months or years.

(Steps including gnashing teeth, becoming an alcoholic and maniacal have been omitted.)

8. Sign with dream agent.

Now, as you all may have heard, I went to Surrey to the SIWC. I signed up for two master classes. Jack Whyte's was submission only and he limited the class to ten or fewer. Janet Reid's included sending in a query, but the class size wasn't limited.

So, as you all know I got accepted into Jack's class. Several of my friends were
going to Janet's class, but I thought it would really be rude of me not to go to Jack's after making the cut. I figured Janet wouldn't even miss me, whereas a tenth of the class missing might be noticeable.

Yeah, well so much for being logical.

Janet forgave me and invited me to send pages. Rachel Vater invited me to send pages. Paul Stevens invited me to send fifty pages, a cover letter and synopsis. He didn't care about a query letter. I knew Mr. Stevens was genuinely interested, but I have a hunch he was drawn to the strong female lead and the blending of ancient Celtic and Sarmatian cultures. I figured Rachel and Janet were just being nice.

In all the goofing around, I never asked Janet or Rachel how many pages they wanted. I assumed I would send twenty-five or so, they would politely decline and we would go back to being friends.

However, since PALADIN is getting fairly close, I saw an opening on Janet Reid's blog about how many pages she wants for a partial. The correct answer is 100 and she wants it in TNR, not courier.

I asked how many pages she wanted from someone she met at a conference. I assumed ten or twenty-five. She answered thus:

Holy Cow! She really is interested.

Yeah, you could have knocked me over with a feather.

Miss Janet asked for the full manuscript with certain conditions. It needs to be smaller or her assistant will edit it for me. I realize Miss Janet adores her assistant and this is what happened to the last assistant who edited my work via the every eighth-page method. So, I figured I better do some more pruning.

It's Hard To Be Humble

It's Hard To Be Humble-Mac Davis

I've learned a lot about myself in the recent edit frenzy.

Some parts of Paladin are pretty good. Some parts aren't. Some parts are pure drivel wrapped around the bones of what could be good.

I've known all along a famous military commander is the pirate's father and why the son turned to piracy. I just wasn't sure how I was going to reveal it. Last night, the light went on and I realized I had an opportunity to add another layer to that arc. I had already done one round of edit on twenty-four, but I was going back to do some more clean up and try to get rid of some more words. I did cut some more, but I wound up adding fifty more words in an effort to flesh out this layer.

I think part of the revision process is not only to look at what needs to be improved, but also to look at what you've done right. Some scenes you just look at and know you nailed it. Not that someone else won't look at it and see room for improvement, but you know the soul is there.

The effort must be to bring each scene to that quality. If it feels off to you, it probably is. Set it aside and let it simmer. Go back and look with fresh eyes. Start tinkering with it and bring it up to the next level.

There is a difference between being egotistical, besides filling out tight blue jeans a certain way, and being confident in your story.

Query Letter Secrets

I once made a comment on Books and Writers about the chances of actually being published given the amount of talent out there.

One of the mods responded, “What you see here is not what normally crosses an agent’s desk. Most of the people here are very dedicated, talented writers.”

I had to take her word for it because it was depressing to think of having to go up against thousands of others like the ones at B&W and the Super Secret other place. There were very few entrants in the workshop I wouldn’t have eagerly picked up in a bookstore.

I read regularly about how disillusioned people are with the query letter system because agents seem to reject everything. At times you have to wonder how high the bar is when you read something like Jennifer Jackson’s stats. She read 182 queries and asked for pages from one.

It has to be the agent, doesn’t it? I mean surely she breathes fire and shoots lightning bolts from her eyes.

And you thought Evil Editor was bad! Evil and his minions, by the way, will dissect your query letters or openings. It's a fun place to hang out and learn by participating in the exercises.

There are also a lot of other agents commenting about the increased number of queries and yet the acceptance rate isn‘t going up. What’s the deal? Even Nathan Bransford commented on the increase in submissions. How long until he changes his trademark, When in doubt, query me to, When in doubt, don’t?

On the plus side, many queries don’t take long to read when they are only five lines long. A short stroll through Nathan’s FAQ shows his suggestions for query length and I’m guessing those won’t be far off with most agents.

Rachelle Gardner wonders why she is so popular.

Janet Reid even remarked about odd query lengths.

Colleen Lindsay was going through queries, trying to get the number to an acceptable level. I admit she was making me nervous. I asked her how many queries she gets a week.

450

Good grief. I have no chance whatsoever. I might as well forget this mess and start writing greeting card verses.

Then she posted the live feed of queries just as they came out of the box.

This is your competition. The best way to move ahead of them is to be better. Fortunately, simply following directions seems to be a giant step in the right direction.

Not sure I am the one to be giving query advice given my conniptions about them here and here. It's bad when I even start dreaming about how to get an agent. So, not really sure you want to be taking my advice, but here it is anyway.


Simple guidelines:

1. Do some research. If they don’t represent picture books, don’t send them your DINOSAUR ABC ALLOSAURUS, BRONTOSAURUS AND COMPSOGNATHUS GO ON A PICNIC book.

Find out what they prefer, what they have sold and what they are looking for. Some, like Nathan Bransford, will tell you to query if you aren’t sure. Most are not that gracious. They know where their zone is and, honestly, you want someone familiar with your genre. Once in a while, you find someone who is willing to step out of their comfort zone and it’s a happily ever after story. Once in a while.

2. Follow directions.

3. Address letter to agent you are querying. Remember, there can be only one. There might be a dozen on your top ten list, always good to keep a few substitutes on hand, but pretend like you only have eyes for Dream Agent, not To Whom It May Concern.

4. Follow directions.

5. They don’t like to be called Sweetie, Darling or Nate Dawg, especially if their name is Matthew. A simple, businesslike salutation will suffice.

6. Follow directions.

7. Don’t quote rejection letters. You just convinced them they are the only one, remember?

8. Follow directions.

9. Don’t tell them how much your talking horse liked the book. They’ll just try to sign your talking horse, then you’ll be without a horse or an agent.

10. Follow directions.

11. Keep it in the sweet zone. Refer back to Nathan Bransford’s FAQ list about that; 250-350 words is good.

12. Follow directions.

13. Include the first 2-5 pages unless they say absolutely not to. Reel them in while they can still smell the bait.

14. Follow directions.

15. Pitch one story and one story only, but do pitch it. This is a query letter. It’s your one shot to sell your story in 300 or so words.

16. Follow directions.

17. Include contact information.

18. Remember, you are not a special little snowflake…follow directions.

The Valentine Message

Several years ago, I volunteered at a prison ministry supported by a local Christian television station. They decided to focus on helping Israel, took Christian out of their name and dropped the prison ministry. It all came as a huge shock to the prison ministry volunteers, so we got together and prayed about it. We decided to ask if we could have the ministry if we changed the name.

I’m not sure how it happened, but I became the leader. I set up the new ministry to run out of our tiny two-bedroom house. Three boys in one bedroom and bedroom furniture, desks, filing cabinet and lots of shelves in the other bedroom. There was just a path around the bed.

I used my checks from the magazine for operating expenses, but most of the time we literally were down to mailing day, wondering where the money was going to come from for postage to mail out the lessons, personal letters and inspirational material.

Porch Light Prison Ministries very much lived by faith and God was always faithful.

As important as the bible lessons we sent out, were the personal letters and inspirational newsletters. People in prison usually have one bright spot, mail call. Mail call affirms someone still thinks they are alive.

The legend of St. Valentine holds that he was a Christian priest who was imprisoned for marrying young couples. This was against the laws of the Roman Emperor Claudius II. Claudius wanted the young men unfettered by wives and families so he would have a more willing pool of soldiers.

Valentine spent his days writing notes of encouragement to the other prisoners, urging them not to give up. He was befriended by a jailer’s daughter who was blind. Some versions say he was in love with her and others say he merely appreciated her kindness in a horrific situation. Christians were often beaten, tortured and killed in the Roman prisons of the time. He prayed for God to heal the girl and her sight was restored.

Claudius supposedly offered to set Valentine free if he would renounce Christ. Valentine refused, so he was taken outside the city and stoned and beaten with clubs before he was beheaded.

Little is really known about St. Valentine, and there were other martyrs with this name also. He lived during the time of Claudius and was killed for his beliefs.

Being a sap for inspirational stories, I loved the idea of a prisoner with faith sending notes of encouragement to other prisoners. I don’t find this unrealistic at all. Look at the life of Corrie Ten Boom.

It’s Valentine’s Day 2009. If we follow the suit of St. Valentine, what will you do today to encourage someone? Will you reach out to a stranger and let them know someone cared? Will you offer to help the old lady with her groceries? Will you smile at a stranger and say hello?

We are all prisoners in one way or another. We all need hope and encouragement in the dark times. What does it cost you to share a bit of kindness with another prisoner?

Love, Lust and St. Valentine's Day

Tomorrow, today actually, is Valentine’s Day.

With it come the whole gamut of feelings. Most important should be those of love, or at least lust.

When I had the prison ministry, I always wrote special messages for Valentine’s Day. It was a sad time for those separated from their loved ones, and sadder for those who had no one who cared about them. I always started off with the legend of St. Valentine, who sent notes of encouragement to other prisoners. It seemed particularly appropriate, as if St. Valentine might be the patron saint for prisoners.

I will try to write something a little more inspiring after I get some sleep, but for now, let me leave you with a message of love and lust from PALADIN.

Love

His hand trembled as he poured a small glass of wine and opened the letter he had read so often he knew each word, each pen stroke, each tear stain by heart. Tonight he vowed once more he would add no more stains to the letter, but he knew he would. He always did.

He peered at the page and smiled. “The autumn harvest. One of my favorite letters.” He wondered briefly if there were any that weren’t his favorites.

My Dearest Husband

The cave with the crystals sounds delightful. Perhaps you can take us to see it one day.

The leaves are turning brilliant hues which make the hills look as if they are ablaze. Oranges, golds and fiery reds splash the small valley. The crops are in thanks to our neighbors. I’ve traded for supplies to tide me through the winter should I not be able to make it to town later. The root cellar is full of winter vegetables and dried fruits and meat.

Though I have need for nothing, I dread the coming winter. Last year, our first winter together, we spent in repairs and building. Preparing for the spring. Had I known war would call you away I would have spent every moment at your side. I would have stored memories instead of roots. I would have made more love instead of quilts. I would have touched you enough to last a lifetime. I would have, but I didn’t.

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye before it could fall to the page yellowed with time. She had always feared for his safety and yet it was she and their tiny son who perished in the war.

And lust.

Erokath motioned to the followers who promptly encircled him and sat on the floor. Lucine sank into the chair near the bed and smoothed out her skirt, then poured herself a glass of wine. While each of the enraptured students gazed up in awe, she appeared as bored as if she had been in the middle of a knitting circle.

Does anything excite her?

He pointed to one young woman who stumbled when she rose. “Kneel before me, follower. ” His hand reached out to cover the fireworm in her forehead. Brilliant purple smoke billowed around them while bright golden light knifed between his fingers. The smoke drifted to the floor like a fog on the marshes and when the light faded, there remained only a husk dry as a desert mummy with glossy, deep brown, leathery skin contrasting with the bright scarlet robe. Her mouth gaped, contorted by the ripping of magic and life from her. The followers stared with wonder at the shell, seeing only a luminous being of light.

One by one he fed upon them, filling the room with shafts of golden light and mounds of purple smoke each time until only the black-haired woman with eyes the color of a dove remained. He reached down for her hand and pulled her to her feet. “You have been chosen,” he said and nodded to the bed. She smiled and pulled the knot in her robe loose.

“Tell me your name. ”

She blushed as if embarrassed by the question even though she stood naked before him “Roslynd, Master. ”

Lucine snorted. “Finish it and let ’s be done.”

Erokath reached out to take Roslynd’s hand. His body responded eagerly to her touch and the scent of her magic. He had to control himself. She was an exquisite example of the human female. Under different circumstances he would have made her a pet, but he needed this last bit of magic to strengthen his hold. He had no intentions of letting Lucine see him so weak again.

“It ’s one of the few things I enjoy about this form. It’s a pity you don’t appreciate it.”

She remained disinterested and bored while he disrobed.

“I’ll savor her once I’m done. There’s no hurry.”

“There is for me. The church auditor is going to Tildie ’s and I have to return.”

Erokath heard the wizard gate forming, but remained focused on the perfect breast.

Roslynd was even more enjoyable than he had hoped. Her stamina nearly matched his, but he had to return before daylight if he was going to travel the spirit road without notice.

He rolled on his back and glanced at the drape-covered wall to his left. He could feed on the man hiding behind them, but the woman ’s magic was much stronger and more pure. He needed the concentrated elixir now.

“Come, my dear. ” He turned to her and nuzzled her neck, stirring again to the magic throbbing in her veins. He continued down her perfect chest to her stomach and buried his face in her soft flesh. His tongue traced her navel. He could taste her magic now. He rolled to the edge of the bed and pulled her with him. She sank willingly to her knees in front of him when he stood. His fingers laced through her thick hair when she opened her mouth.

Her fingers dug into his thighs when he groaned. She squirmed in front of him and spread her legs farther apart, like a mare waiting for a stallion.

Perfect.

She shuddered, matching his climax. Purple smoke rose about them and from the wall of drapes came the pungent odor of urine.

Blood Money

It’s a little after 1:00 pm. I just got up two hours ago and will be leaving for work in thirty minutes.

Messed with the printer until 5:30 this morning and it’s still printing a bit of text in the corner the size of a postage stamp. I’ve tried reading it with a magnifying glass and it isn’t even what I asked it to print. I think the printer may be possessed. I would sprinkle it with anointing oil, but not sure that would help. Well it might cure the squeak, but I doubt it would print bigger and not in tongues.

I’ve decided I am going to Surrey this year on “found” money. That means money I haven’t borrowed or earned through regular income.

What is the definition of found money? For instance, can I set aside a portion of my overtime pay?

Possible options:

1. Sell blood. Drawbacks, it’s really hard to catch a vein with me so it usually involves more than one try.
2. Ebay unwanted items. I’m a pack rat, what constitutes unwanted?
3. Sell baked goods.
4. Sell freelance writing. Harder than hitting the vein and just as painful.
5. Garage sale. Don’t have a garage and don’t have much I want to part with.

I’m setting my goal fund at $3,000. It won’t cost nearly that much, but I’m going to shoot for that to allow for wardrobe and miscellaneous.

So, what creative money making ideas can you think of?

Writer's Block

At times I have so many writer’s blocks I am tempted to name them Lego. Speaking of which, you will see a new addition to my sidebar. Help Wanted. These are things either I or someone else needs help with.

Anyway, back to writer’s block. I prefer to think of it as DWB. All the really cool afflictions are known by their initials.

I was visiting with some friends recently about DWB. For each of us, the cure is different, but if all the normal cures aren’t working, it’s time to look for a new one.

My normal tried and trues.

1. Leave the scene you’re stuck on and go back to one you like. Fiddle with it until you get the breakthrough and can go back to PS (problem scene).

2. Read someone who inspires you.

3. Sleep on it. Think about the scene leading up to the problem area. Visualize it in your mind up to the stopping point and go to sleep. I often wake up with the problems all worked out. The bad thing about this is, you have to condition your mind to focus on this a bit. The second bad thing is you have to write down the solution as soon as you wake up or it might poof.

4. Work on step-child manuscript. I always have two manuscripts going. If I get stuck on one, I fiddle with the step-child for a bit until I hit the breakthrough. My step-child now has five chapters and various oddball scenes.

5. Listen to music, preferably without words, that represents your work. Listening to music and relaxing in a warm bath is even better. Just let your mind drift through the work.

6. Close your eyes and imagine you are going into one of those elegant old theaters. You walk down the aisle with your favorite treats. You’re the only one in the theater. The curtains open on a scene prior to the one you are having trouble with. You see everything in glorious Technicolor, but you can also smell the scene. The camera pans around and gives you a full view of everything in the scene and the action begins. What do you see? Hear? Smell? What happens next?

This is a favorite ploy of mine because I see my stories as movies anyway. I can close my eyes at any given scene and “see” it. If I can’t, I know it’s time for me to fill in the blanks and make the scene come to life. I have to be able to see the entire book as a movie and not only a movie, but a tangible, interesting movie.

7. Get out pen and paper and write. Clear your desk. Turn off the computer and write. I don’t care if it’s a journal, a letter or part of your WIP. Just right and set your mind free.

8. Go to an emotional scene in your work. It has to be a scene that stirs you. Read up to it and look at what you did right. Feel your work. Realize that this is why you write. You create worlds that make people feel something. Copy it down in your notebook if you need to.

9. Go to your favorite writer’s hangout and pick out an exercise. Get your mind off your work and set it on the back burner. Write a 500 story based on a word. Scarlet, for instance.

10. From Gary Provost’s book 100 WAYS TO IMPROVE YOUR WRITING. Copy your favorite author or at least one who has written something in the same vein as yours. Pick out a passage and copy it. Let your mind analyze why he wrote in a certain style, why he chose this word over that, why he described this and not that. When you transcribe the passage, it reinforces in your mind how and why he is doing things you want to do.

This had to be one of the greatest epiphanies for me ever. By transcribing the work, I begin to have a deeper understanding of the process.

Years ago, Beth Shope recommended I buy some of Gary Provost’s writing books. I did that this month, using the Amazon gift cards I had. What a tremendous blessing. I am so glad I found these books.

So, what is your favorite method for breaking through DWB (Danged Writer’s Block.)?

Julie

Surrey Rant

The secret of training horses or dogs or anything, I suppose, is to always end on a high note. If the horse is getting cranky, you have to retreat to a place they feel comfortable and let them finish the exercise correctly. Then you heap on the praise. The theory is they remember the training session positively instead of something unpleasant.

With that in mind, you get to listen to a rant about Surrey today. In every respect but one, this was the ideal conference. I cannot say enough good things about it or recommend it highly enough aside from this one thorn.

The thorn, as you might have guessed, is politics.

Here’s my theory. If I go to a concert, I am paying to be entertained. If you, the singer, break out in a political rant mid-concert, I am going to get up and walk out. I paid you to sing, not tell me how to vote. It’s great you have an opinion, but unless you have some kind of experience governing or some pertinent degree, what you think is just one person’s opinion. Because you can sing, doesn’t make you a political expert and I resent the fire out of you using your star status to impose your opinions on me when I have paid you to sing. “Just the song, ma’am,” as Sergeant Friday might say.

One of the keynote speakers interjected his opinions in his opening speech at Surrey. “John Kennedy was the last decent president you Americans elected and I hope you will make the right decision this time.” Apparently, we Americans have made wrong decisions for forty years, but he did let us know we had an opportunity to correct all our misdeeds.

Um, yeah. I don’t tell you how to vote or voice my opinion about your leaders, please give me the same respect.

How I vote is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. If you feel so strongly about how Americans should vote, move to the US, go through the process and vote.

Needless to say, I got up and walked out, missing the program that came later, which I hated. I did enjoy some pleasant company in the bar, though and they didn’t feel the need to tell me how to vote.

Then comes the second and even greater road bump. One of the presenters was busy passing out Bye Bye Bush bumper stickers with every purchase of one of her books. I’m sure she also gave them away to anyone who wanted one.

Excuse me, let me look at the brochure again. Political rally? No, pretty sure I’m supposed to be at a writer’s conference. Once again, I respect your opinion, but this is the wrong place to be expressing it.

I asked someone if this was really appropriate and was told it’s all in good fun. All right, so if I bring my political paraphernalia of the opposite and much less popular opinion, no one is going to get offended, right?
Doubtful. I’m going to venture a guess complaints would be lodged immediately.

All right, at least she is being fairly non-obnoxious even though this is a writer’s conference and not a political campaign booth.

Saturday night arrives and she is prancing around with her Bye Bye Bush tee-shirt and a cap with dreadlocks. What the heck? Now she makes the rounds, sticking her chest out so everyone can see her witty tee-shirt, tossing her dreadlocks so everyone knows who she is supporting and grinning from ear-to-ear.

She looked like a ten-year-old walking into a room with several important guests and twirling a condom on his finger to see if anyone noticed how naughty he was being.

Frankly, this would be like someone walking in with a dimestore war bonnet, war paint and whooping to show their support for Native Americans. We really ought to be past the stereotypes. When did black people get reduced to their hair?

I asked about this later and was told it was all in good fun. So, when I show up next year with an afro, passing out impeach Obama stickers, I trust everyone will realize it’s all in good fun.

And, before you chalk this all up to me being a rabid Republican, I’m not. I’m an Independent with strong Libertarian leanings.

We were told to leave perfume at home. I would also suggest speakers, presenters and others also leave their politics at home. This isn’t the place for it. If you want to discuss politics with friends, that’s great. Espousing them to someone who paid to learn more about writing isn’t the place. While you may think you are the only one with all the answers, there’s a chance someone else might also feel their opinions are of value.

I wasn’t the only one who was offended by the antics, but I’m probably one of the few who bothered to say anything about it.

I promise the last two Surrey posts will be positive.

Donald Maass Is To Blame...Again

I swear, Donald Maass will be the death of me. Seriously. Now I am always on the lookout for ways to up the tension.

In this scene, Thalmar (Saerowyn's son and the head of the arcane academies) and Maeglen, a spirit walker have entered the spirit realm to try and solve the mystery of Aegis' death and to find clues to the missing king. They have just finished "watching" Aegis' last day."

The original ending had them leaving the scene and returning home. It's a lot more tense here, I hope, because Maeglen is trapped and I already set up a dangerous situation for her in the spirit realm in addition to this spirit who appeared.

I've already set up the way she can escape, but it's going to require...more words. I wonder if anyone one would really notice if I don't rescue her.



Ending of chapter fifteen.

Caidry laughed and ran his hand ran over the black stubble of beard, smearing blood across his face. The slash across his forehead gushed red. His left eye shone brighter under the blood veil. He seemed to be taunting Aegis. He wiped the blood out of his eye and his tongue flicked out to lick it from his lips. His mouth curled back in a cruel smile, revealing even white teeth tinged pink in the crevices.

Aegis dropped to his knees. Another spasm of coughing racked his body as he choked on the blood filling his lungs. Blossoms from the twig he wedged in his helmet earlier now floated in a pool of red before him. He stared at the pale petals adrift in his blood.

“He’s speaking a binding spell to this place,” Maeglen said. “I can hear the words in my mind. That’s why we couldn’t call his spirit back to his body. I knew he was there, but we couldn’t hold him.”

She looked away when Caidry jerked Aegis’ head back to expose his throat.

When it was done, Maeglen knelt beside the body. She reached out to touch the knight’s blood blossom. “Caidry killed him before he could finish the spell. He’s caught between two worlds.”

Thalmar stood beside her, still holding her bound hand. A spirit began to take form in front of them. It was pale and weak, but she recognized Aegis. He tried to speak, his eyes wide and frantic.

She turned to see another spirit forming behind her. He was surrounded by a deep red aura, his face contorted with hatred.

“Pay the price, wizard! Let your woman walk the spirit world as mine does." He knocked Thalmar backwards. The cord bit into her wrist and then snapped.

Thalmar was back in the present, but she was trapped.

When An Agent Believes

Rachelle Gardner posted an interesting email and her response on her blog today. In essence, a reader upbraided her for stating she is a Christian agent who works for a Christian literary agency.

I have in the past tried to avoid political and religious discussions on this blog even though I have such a small and loving following, I think you all understand who I am and wouldn’t be offended if I put, “I am a Christian writer,” on my blog. And, to be honest, I will probably be doing more inspirational writing this year because it is on my heart to do so.

However, that brings us to an interesting question and probably a revelation that will limit my options regarding agents to some extent. How much do you reveal and does it affect your personal relationship with an agent?

I’m not rabidly political. If you had to squeeze me into a box, it would be labeled Independent with strong Libertarian leanings. Yeah, I pretty much want government to be manageable and out of my life. I won’t ask for handouts. I can take in ironing, clean houses and bake for people if it gets bad. I don’t mind helping those who genuinely need help, but I do bristle at the people who qualify for housing assistance, food stamps and welfare and manage to drive luxury vehicles. If I can drive a twleve-year-old ex-highway patrol car and pay my own way, they can figure out a way to drive something a little more practical and get out of the welfare lines because it irks me to no end to work my butt off so I can pay for the mooches who have "working the system" down to an art. If you have to live on welfare, you don’t need ten kids for me to support.

Ok, rant off on that subject, but on to politics and agent blogs. I have to admit I have stopped following some agents because of their political posts on their blogs. There are a few I would not submit to even though professionally, they would be a good match for my work. If they use their professional sites or blogs to promote a political candidate or belief I detest, it’s going to be an uncomfortable relationship for me. Conversely, if they are continually slamming someone or something I believe in, it’s going to be strained.

It’s not that I don’t respect their right to believe whatever they want, it’s the idea that I am most likely going to get to listen to them rant about something that makes me uncomfortable. At some point, knowing me, I am going to explain how I feel and they most likely won’t like it. I am to the point in my life I don’t feel like pretending what I believe doesn’t matter. I did that for thirty-four years and I just don’t feel like playing the game any longer.

I don’t care if they donate their last dime to their cause or work tirelessly to get it passed, them elected or whatever, although I might hope they would also work tirelessly to sell my book. Believe what you wish and support it with all your heart, but understand it’s possible someone who believes just as strongly in the exact opposite might be out there. Have some common courtesy and respect. Be gracious in defeat and even more gracious in victory. Take a lesson from Robert E. Lee who experienced both.

An agent once posted the “gd” word on their site. I realize in today’s society f*** this and f*** that is common language, but using the Lord’s name in vain sets my teeth on edge. I would probably also avoid the agent who used the f bomb on their site, though I can live with it appearing on their blog occasionally. The agent who used the gd got crossed off my list. Would they care? Doubtful. It’s their right to speak any way they wish and what is one less query out of thousands?

Perhaps I am being a bit Pollyannaish, but I’m looking for a strong working relationship with an agent. They have to love my work and have the resources to sell it, but they also have to be someone I can stand to be around for a long time. It would be even better if I actually like them. Once I find the perfect agent, it better be till death do us part and even then I might hang around and haunt them.

So, am I being disingenuous when I support Rachelle for stating up front she is a Christian? Nope. She’s very open about it, which should indicate to potential clients this is what they can expect. If your beliefs shape who you are personally to the point it might affect my relationship with you as a client, I want to know ahead of time. If, for instance, you are an atheist who detests anyone of faith, then that would be a good thing for me to know. You probably won’t like me. If you are an atheist, but you keep it in your personal file so it doesn’t affect us, that’s your business.

Superior Scribbler Award

John Simpson's Spy Scribbler Award

Nope, I haven't forgotten. Just in a fog and I want to do this right.

It will probably be this weekend before I get it done.

Julie

The Surrey Staff

In one of the last posts about Surrey, I wanted to talk about the Surrey staff. These tireless men and woman are all volunteers, some of whom work year-round on this conference.
Without fail, they were pleased to answer any questions. They were friendly and many times stopped and asked if the conference was going well. Have you had any successes? Was there anything you needed? This goes far and above just having someone stand around in case you need help.

Some of the ladies started recognizing me and would check with me when they saw me to see if I had spoken to any agents. All of them hoped I would return next year.

I was really astounded at these remarkable people.

KC Dyer ramrods this conference and she has done an excellent job. There was some confusion with my registration. After a few emails back and forth, she got it straightened out and I had my appointments set. I’m sure her boundless energy and friendly attitude is a driving force behind the attitude of the volunteers.

As you all know, this was my first writer’s conference, but I have been to some other gatherings similar to this. The Surrey staff, was by far the most helpful and friendly I have encountered. I felt like I had made friends instead of just being herded around.

Telus donated water for the conference goers, which was a real blessing. As soon as we got done with breakfast, we grabbed a bottle of water from the table and headed to our first class. They kept the table stocked with water all day. This seems like a little thing, but as much water as a person drinks a day, $1.00-$2.00 a bottle would have been a sizable expenditure. Of course, me being cheap, I bought a couple of gallons of water before we arrived for drinking water and coffee water.

To me, this is just another instance of how well-planned this conference is. They had a large list of donors who helped make the conference possible. That doesn’t happen overnight. The staff had to be hustling to get all this together.

The Surrey Sheraton

Just got in from work and am savoring a lukewarm cup of this morning’s coffee. I need to finish revisions on chapter thirty while my mind is half way alert. Since I have a hair appointment at 10:00, I probably shouldn’t stay up until 5 or 6 like I normally do.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water, here it comes again. More about Surrey.

This isn’t about classes or even the conference per se, but it is an important component of the conference. I opted to stay at the Sheraton where the conference was being held. I did this mainly because I didn’t want to miss anything and I didn’t want to be rushing around, trying to get to another place in the morning. Aside from that, I figured I just stagger to my room with no problem if I got too happy. For enquiring minds, I never really got happy, but I was very mellow. So mellow, I assumed everyone wanted to share in story hour with Julie. Heaven knows why anyone would want to hear about Martha and Tilley, the African Laundry Warriors, I See Outlines of Dead People and How I Reformed a Preacher’s Daughter. I think this forklift story was tossed in there as well, and heaven knows what else. I was…relaxed. It’s quite possible my audience was relaxed as well, although Lisa, to her credit, stayed with Diet Coke most of the time.

But, back to the story. You thought I forgot where I was going, didn’t you?

The Sheraton was fabulous. I loved everything about it. Well, the food prices were a little high, but I opted for the meals with my conference package and ate cereal in the morning. Thank you, Miss Lisa.

Check in was very orderly and quick. I asked the porter if I could get a mini fridge and had one delivered within minutes. The entire staff was wonderful. Everyone was so helpful and friendly. I know they had to be tearing their hair out at times with all the people, but I never once got anything except very gracious service. Their staff deserves a huge pat on the back.

The food was very good and they had a nice variety. I was tempted to eat breakfast just for the pastries.

I asked for a bowl and spoon for breakfast and the waiter tracked one down for me without a question. It was just a lot of little things like that which made me love this hotel.

Obviously, I love the mandarin and mint personal products. I’ve searched everywhere for them, but I understand they are made by Bliss exclusively for Sheraton. Seriously, those lotions, soaps and shampoos are so luscious it’s worth staying at Sheraton just for them.

Another nice addition was the Starbucks coffee and Tazo tea in the rooms and at the functions. I am now addicted to the Tazo passion tea. Oh. My. Gosh. It is awesome. Rachel Vater commented about the pretty color so I had to try some. Yum. It is also beautiful just to look at. I doubt they had anything like it in my approximately 1300 AD medieval world, but it‘s fantasy so I get to fudge a bit. I have my characters drinking a luscious red tea. It was so comforting to me, it was easy to describe it in the book and how it made people feel. And I wonder why I’m over on word count.

Ok, so I am impressed with little things. What can you expect from a hick?

I had a problem with the reservation and they reserved the room for one day less than I needed. They got it straightened out, but we were going to have to change rooms, which was going to be a pain. They manager finagled it around so we could stay in the same room and made other arrangements with the people who were booked into our room.

As I said, we got nothing but exemplary service all the way around.

This was, of course, my first writer’s conference, but I doubt many are as smooth as this one.

So, salute to the Surrey Sheraton and its staff. I can’t wait to return this year.

Three Little Words

We are creators. God makers. World destroyers. Love bringers and life takers.

We deal with words like a money counter deals with coins. Sometimes I think we are like Scrooge McDuck, except we dive into mountains of words instead of gold. We put them together by the thousands, hundreds of thousands. So why should three little words have such a profound effect on us personally?

Three little words we need to say. We dream about the time when we will whisper them and feel contentment in our souls for having done so. I confess I have wished for this moment with every fiber of my being. Longing for completion and yet wondering if it’s even possible. What if it’s too late for me? What if it was never meant to be? What if it only leads to rejection and pain? Is it worth even trying?

Three little words. How can they have so much power over us?

And yet, I want to share this with all of you have stood by me through the trials. You’ve listened to me whining and complaining. You’ve listened to the stories and read between the lines.

I wondered, when I realized the truth, if I should whisper it softly as a butterfly kiss or shout it from the rooftops. Perhaps I will just say the words and smile softly at haven spoken them.

So, yes. It’s true. I didn’t think at times I would ever feel this, but I can at last speak the words and move on to the next step in my life.

Yes, my friends.

That sucker’s done!

What Mythical Creature Are You?

What Mythical Creature are you? Your Result: Elf   Elves are skilled, intelligent craftsmen and warriors. An elf will devote his or her life to a certain trade, and thus become the best in the universe at what they do. Elves are commonly very quiet and reclusive, causing them to be shy. However shy, they are not naive and posess a great deal of knowlege and wisdom that seems to be inherited at birth. Elves are immortal, and very dedicated to nature. They walk in harmony with their surroundings, but are not wholely over emotional beings. Love is not thought of as deep or passionate for these creatures, but rather a pairing, or mating that is ultimately result in offspring.
Siren
Nymph
Vampire
Werewolf
What Mythical Creature are you? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Borrowed from Laughingwolf