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Posts Tagged ‘writing a novel’

I actually really love it when FireFox updates in the middle of the night and wrecks my session while I sleep. It gives me that little “Well, this is embarrassing…” page.  OOps! We’ve forgotten the 3 bagillion pages you left open.  Wanna start a new session?

Sure I do. It’s nice the way they take responsibility, and then move on. (Take note Cheeta Tiger Woods.) So here goes.

I haven’t blogged in 2 weeks. ANYWHERE – not seriously anyway. This is embarrassing. Forgive me?

Whew! Now that the grand apology is out of the way. HI! I’ve been really busy lately. Holiday. Book publishing. Whatnot.

The Thanksgiving holiday went great. People came. My parents cooked the bird. Everyone else brought sides. Very warm room. I loved my tasty mushroom loaf. Very few leftovers.

Speaking of pigging out, the diet and exercise are paying off. As of my trip to the gym yesterday – the official weigh in place – I’m down 19 pounds. Very pleased.  (Yeah, I was just too weak to write before, that’s it!)

Looking for a house – still – this is embarrassing! Too annoyed to discuss, so I will just sum up: 6 houses offered on – no contract. BA!

Eleanor is a working hard on her preschool Christmas play – she’s a cow. She has several speaking lines – mostly of the “moo” variety. He principal says she know ALL the words to ALL the songs, and she was rather impressed with Eleanor. I am, too. She is very attached to the Little Mermaid soundtrack we have on endless loop in the car. Filling the roll of both diva and director, she assigns parts to everyone, “YOU! You’re the sisters, you are Sebastian, Sara – this song is your favorite! Now, Mommy, YOU sing!” Eleanor and Saralyn are ALWAYS Ariel. I need to get Tony to secretly video the two of them singing “Part of that World.” Elly is rather off-key and Sara doesn’t know how to speak all the words. It’s about the most charming thing ever.

As for my third baby – my book – I have my first books signing coming up next Saturday – 12/12 at 12-noon. Sara’s Godmother Sam is offering up her shop on Main Street for me to have this shindig. I’ve spent hours on Vistaprint designing tee-shirts and post cards  and trying to figure out how to get the most free stuff. I’m getting pretty good at it. Who wants a Chenda Tee? I have been invited to two Sci-Fi Conventions – Chattacon in January and Deep South Con (Charlotte) in June. I’m frustrated at Chattacon already (my contact there is way slow with the details) but have high hopes for DSC. That reminds me – I need headshots.  Who will trade Photography Services for books? Anyone?

This weekend is the Lilburn Christmas Parade – an annual tradition for me. I really like this parade. I hope to see you all there! But, if you see me, don’t bring up my dearth of blog posts; it’s just too embarrassing.

COME! BUY BOOKS!

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Here it is: My book is available at AMAZON.com

Check me out!

I’m tickled. My tail has been wagging all week.  This is one of the greatest things I have ever done!  I love that it’s out there. Forever. (Gulp!)

I proud and thankful and just a whirlwind of emotions. Thanks to everyone who supported this effort. Now – go buy the book!

 

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FINALLY – A response to an agent query that didn’t say NO! I got a “SEND MORE PAGES!” Happy dance!

Ok – I know this is not the same as a yes, but it’s better than a no. I just sent off 30 pages of my baby. The response from the bot was – you’ll hear from us in two months. Again, I hurry up and wait.

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HOME

Back from Charleston. LONG weekend. I have to say that jellyfish suck so much, I am surprised sea level is still rising. Exhausted by constantly fighting with Eleanor about EVERYTHING! She’s been spoiled recently and I have spent this evening screwing her head back down – tight.

Lastly – It’s official – I have started writing a new novel. I hope to have it done by Halloween.

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Gag me

Two more rejections today. IF you are keeping score –  I have sent 20 query letters to agents, and only 6 can still be considered to be still alive. Dat’s a lotta rejection.

Sigh.   SO – I am going to start writing a new book. Take that!

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I’ve made a fan page for Chenda and the Airship Brofman on Facebook. Since yesterday it has 17 fans!  Way to stroke my ego, people. But that’s not the funny part. Diane Turnshek commented on it on her FB page and someone noted that my art looked like a “Toy Rocket” and posted this LINK.

At first I didn’t get why that link was there. I thought the friend of a friend was suggesting my story was like some other story called “Toy Rocket” and then the link REALLY made no sense.  But if you have a Toddler in your life, you will have to see this video, it’s worth the two minutes. AND you get to see why my current thumbnail for the book is toy rocket-like.  Amusing.

IN other news of today, I went to Trish’s Grandpa’s funeral today. Not an empty seat or dry eye in the house.  The man was that rare sort, nearly unknown today: a pillar of the community.  Poor Trish is never going to be the same without him.

Day one of VBS is done, I think the kids really enjoyed it, and the food was great.  The adults seemed to be pleased with themselves as well. There was music and song and biblical family coats of arms. Who could ask for anything more?

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I keep rewriting the first paragraph.  I think it’s better now, but I’m freaking out.

How does this grab you?

Chenda Frost sat perfectly still. She balanced in that silent place between a running panic and the withering urge to vomit that accompanies desperate grief. As the short line of cars followed the hearse into the churchyard, Chenda steeled herself for her first, and last, public appearance with her husband. She realized that this was the first time she had been to town with Edison, but she couldn’t find the strength to contemplate the irony that this would also be the last time she would travel to Coal City with him. After today, she would never see him again. Forever. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the car carrying his casket, tried not to even blink for fear of losing any part of her last few moments with him. Chenda’s driver opened her door, and she stepped out into the misty morning to the sound of flashbulbs and the shout of rabid newspapermen. She raised her dark eyes to focus on the front door of the church, her goal. More flashes sent sparkles across her vision. She ignored what she could of the shouted questions and kept her pale face as placid and unmoving as possible. As quickly as her legs would carry her, she escaped into the cool darkness of the ancient church.

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