Okay, I finally have made a foray into publsihing directly to publishers. I submitted to PYR publishing today and now I have to wait four to six weeks at least for answer. NERVOUS.
Im also planning on submitting to Tor books once I find a printer. Which is apparently harder than it sounds. They want so much paper! This is going to cost a fortune because I live in Canada. Hopefully I'll get lucky. I would LOVE for them to take my book.
Not to say I'm done with agents. I'm going to query Brittany Booker of Corvisero Lit Agency and Laura Bradford of Laura Bradford Lit. Along with any other suggestions people throw at me.
Next few weeks are going to be nerve wrecking. Wish me luck!
Guess my 'take a break' is done and over with.
The journey of a young writer trying to break into the publishing world. With Dragons.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
Shelving and Falling out of Love
The last few weeks, I have considering shelving Shadow's Dawn temporarily. The querying and contests have been really hard on me. Each rejection and each time I don't make it into a contest is slowly eating my soul away and taking my confidence down with it.
Yet, although my brain knows I need a break, my heart still struggles. I've been through many struggles with this story. It was the thing that kept me sane during the depths of my illness, when I didn't know if I was going to die or live. Granted, I've threatened to shelve it before, during one of the many, many blow outs I've had with it. I can't tell if I honestly need a break, or if I'm just having another tantrum.
The thing is, it's not like I have never shelved it before. I actually have and more than once. Quite easily too. Right in the middle, I stopped writing and didn't return for four months. Right before the current incarnation, I actually quit writing for months because I went through the ringer with my creative writing class. I swore off writing that story until my boyfriend begged me to write it.
I went through a lot of struggles with this novel. It's the sole accomplishment in my life. The one things I could say that I succeeded at.
Then today, it clicked. I finally knew why this time was so hard:
I don't want to fall out of love with it.
I don't want to start working in something new, fall in love with it, then go back to Shadow's Dawn and go 'Dear god, was I high?'. It is actually distressing me to tears right now, that very idea. I've heard of stories from people who write a book they love, then shelve it, and come back later and hate it. It would kill me to do that. It would feel like I've wasted 6-7 years. Right down the toilet. That idea distresses me more than querying. It's like being stabbed through the heart.
I've been through so much with the story, and it's not because it's the first. It would be the same if it was the second, or third, or tenth. Sometimes I wish it was the second, third, or tenth, so people would take my feelings more seriously. It's not about the number it happens to be, it's about the emotional connection and pure passion I have for it. What's the point in writing a book if you don't love it with every part of your heart? If it hurts so much, doesn't that just mean you tried to give it everything you had?
Maybe this is what it means to have a passion project. And the Shadows Series is mine.
Yet, although my brain knows I need a break, my heart still struggles. I've been through many struggles with this story. It was the thing that kept me sane during the depths of my illness, when I didn't know if I was going to die or live. Granted, I've threatened to shelve it before, during one of the many, many blow outs I've had with it. I can't tell if I honestly need a break, or if I'm just having another tantrum.
The thing is, it's not like I have never shelved it before. I actually have and more than once. Quite easily too. Right in the middle, I stopped writing and didn't return for four months. Right before the current incarnation, I actually quit writing for months because I went through the ringer with my creative writing class. I swore off writing that story until my boyfriend begged me to write it.
I went through a lot of struggles with this novel. It's the sole accomplishment in my life. The one things I could say that I succeeded at.
Then today, it clicked. I finally knew why this time was so hard:
I don't want to fall out of love with it.
I don't want to start working in something new, fall in love with it, then go back to Shadow's Dawn and go 'Dear god, was I high?'. It is actually distressing me to tears right now, that very idea. I've heard of stories from people who write a book they love, then shelve it, and come back later and hate it. It would kill me to do that. It would feel like I've wasted 6-7 years. Right down the toilet. That idea distresses me more than querying. It's like being stabbed through the heart.
I've been through so much with the story, and it's not because it's the first. It would be the same if it was the second, or third, or tenth. Sometimes I wish it was the second, third, or tenth, so people would take my feelings more seriously. It's not about the number it happens to be, it's about the emotional connection and pure passion I have for it. What's the point in writing a book if you don't love it with every part of your heart? If it hurts so much, doesn't that just mean you tried to give it everything you had?
Maybe this is what it means to have a passion project. And the Shadows Series is mine.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Celebrity Writers
No, I'm not talking about Rowling.
I'm talking about celebrities who write books because it's the last medium they haven't taken over yet.
Yeah, I'm talking about Snooki, the Kardashians, Justin Bieber, and Hilary Duff.
Now, I have no inherent dislike for celebrities who decide to write. If they are actually talented and don't use their celebrity--which I find is cheating--then I don't really care. I'm not a bitter, unagented author. I'm unagented, but not bitter. Okay I'm a bit bitter, but you would be too with 66 rejections and zip requests.
This kind of ties into my belief that just because you can string a sentence together does not mean that you are a writer. Just because you are a celebrity and can string a sentence together doesn't mean you can write a decent book.
When publishers publish book by people like Snooki, I really think it underminds the art of writing. Now, I know lots of bad books have been and will be published *cough*twilight*cough* but for every Snooki who gets picked up by a big house publisher, that means it's one last chance for a writer like me to get noticed. It's hard enough to compete with other writers, I don't need over zealous celebs too.
I just hate to see the beautiful art of writing get sullied by someone's money making selfishness. It's just as much of an art as the Michaelgelo or Sintine Chapel or the <i>Mona Lisa</i>, or <i>Starry Night</i> are works of art. All I'm saying is that people need to remember what writing, at it's core is: an art form.
(I am well aware that publishers can be selfish money makers also, but if the work isn't there for them to sell, then how can they make money off of it?)
It's a matter of respect. Respect I don't think we writers are nessecarily recieving.
I'm talking about celebrities who write books because it's the last medium they haven't taken over yet.
Yeah, I'm talking about Snooki, the Kardashians, Justin Bieber, and Hilary Duff.
Now, I have no inherent dislike for celebrities who decide to write. If they are actually talented and don't use their celebrity--which I find is cheating--then I don't really care. I'm not a bitter, unagented author. I'm unagented, but not bitter. Okay I'm a bit bitter, but you would be too with 66 rejections and zip requests.
This kind of ties into my belief that just because you can string a sentence together does not mean that you are a writer. Just because you are a celebrity and can string a sentence together doesn't mean you can write a decent book.
When publishers publish book by people like Snooki, I really think it underminds the art of writing. Now, I know lots of bad books have been and will be published *cough*twilight*cough* but for every Snooki who gets picked up by a big house publisher, that means it's one last chance for a writer like me to get noticed. It's hard enough to compete with other writers, I don't need over zealous celebs too.
I just hate to see the beautiful art of writing get sullied by someone's money making selfishness. It's just as much of an art as the Michaelgelo or Sintine Chapel or the <i>Mona Lisa</i>, or <i>Starry Night</i> are works of art. All I'm saying is that people need to remember what writing, at it's core is: an art form.
(I am well aware that publishers can be selfish money makers also, but if the work isn't there for them to sell, then how can they make money off of it?)
It's a matter of respect. Respect I don't think we writers are nessecarily recieving.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Review: Zombie Whisperer by Caterina Torres
Zombie Whisperer by Caterina Torres
3.5 out of 5 stars.
Dear god, am I actually doing a REVIEW??? Why I am! The review here is going to be SPOILERIFIC, if you don't want spoilers, well, head on over to Zombie Whisperer's Goodreads page. I shall be posting a less spoilery review there. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU
Now, onto the review!
Now, I'm not much into the Zombie trend. Although I absolutely love the Resident Evil games, I just feel there is only so far the Zombie trend can be brought before it nosedives into corny territory.
Caterina proved me wrong.
Zombie Whisperer is about a young woman named Jane Smith who woke up from an illness to find the world as she knew it turned upside down: the zombie apocalypse had happened. After escaping to her boyfriend, Josh Williams', house, the pair make a mad dash to the East Coast and possible safety, but not before they are captured by the very people who created the zombies. That is where Jane learns more than she would ever want to know about her family history and her newfound abilities; she can control the very creatures that had destroyed everything.
I love this idea she brought to the table. This mix of science and the metaphysical with zombies. I actually envy her ability to do this without having the reader go 'Author! Will you just PICK one already??'. I love it when authors really challenge the 'rules' of their genre.
Now for the spoiler part.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Plans for the Future
Okay, so I'm a HORRIBLE updater, I know. I come baring good news, though!
1) In the next little while, quite possibly, I will be participating in something BIG, very, very BIG. We are still ironing out some details and getting people all on the same page, so hopefully, I will get some more definite news very, very soon...
2) I am going to be writing a chapter-by-chapter review of a very BAD book. Okay, not very bad, but pretty bad. I've already read through it and I've always wanted to do a major review on this book ever since I laid my hands on it. It has dragons in it...sorta. I just need to go and get my copy back. I sort of lent it out. Then make some buffer reviews. Hopefully with this review, I may find my niche. If people like it, of course.
So! That is what I have planned for the next little while. So long as nothing falls through. *crosses fingers*
1) In the next little while, quite possibly, I will be participating in something BIG, very, very BIG. We are still ironing out some details and getting people all on the same page, so hopefully, I will get some more definite news very, very soon...
2) I am going to be writing a chapter-by-chapter review of a very BAD book. Okay, not very bad, but pretty bad. I've already read through it and I've always wanted to do a major review on this book ever since I laid my hands on it. It has dragons in it...sorta. I just need to go and get my copy back. I sort of lent it out. Then make some buffer reviews. Hopefully with this review, I may find my niche. If people like it, of course.
So! That is what I have planned for the next little while. So long as nothing falls through. *crosses fingers*
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
I kind of just realized something...
I haven't written anything new since January.
Really. JANUARY. It's June and I still have yet to create anything new. Not to say I haven't written anything, I edited Shadow's Dawn from January to April (and never finished it) but I have a few WIPs I have completely ignored.
Morning Darkness, my sequel, hasn't been touched since November (Stupid NaNoWriMo). Poor thing, I even left it at a good point. 20,000 words too!
The Mayor, god, I don't even thing that is 5000 words. I don't even remember what I wrote.
Toulon, which is the last thing I wrote, isn't even 3000 words.
I've been thinking on exactly why I've been blocked. It's not like I'm short on ideas. I have plenty! Though, I have been suffering from a debilitating lack of self confidence. Querying will do that to a person. Querying eats people's souls.
Okay, I'm trying really hard not to turn this into a whiny post. It's hard to write something new when you're just going to think it's going to stink. I've been at war with myself for months, struggling to get my anxiety under control, though without much success.
Now, I know people are going to tell me to relax, to let the stories come out naturally. I haven't worked on anything since April, in hopes of doing just that. No major editing, little querying, a couple contests, and that is about it. I'm trying to give my creative side a bit of a break. It's still frustrating, because I want to tell stories. I want to create something.
Then again, I had the same issues during this time of year with my first book. Maybe Springtime simply isn't my time of year to write. Go figure.
Any advice on how to deal with a months long dry spell? Other than, you know, just going and writing.
I haven't written anything new since January.
Really. JANUARY. It's June and I still have yet to create anything new. Not to say I haven't written anything, I edited Shadow's Dawn from January to April (and never finished it) but I have a few WIPs I have completely ignored.
Morning Darkness, my sequel, hasn't been touched since November (Stupid NaNoWriMo). Poor thing, I even left it at a good point. 20,000 words too!
The Mayor, god, I don't even thing that is 5000 words. I don't even remember what I wrote.
Toulon, which is the last thing I wrote, isn't even 3000 words.
I've been thinking on exactly why I've been blocked. It's not like I'm short on ideas. I have plenty! Though, I have been suffering from a debilitating lack of self confidence. Querying will do that to a person. Querying eats people's souls.
Okay, I'm trying really hard not to turn this into a whiny post. It's hard to write something new when you're just going to think it's going to stink. I've been at war with myself for months, struggling to get my anxiety under control, though without much success.
Now, I know people are going to tell me to relax, to let the stories come out naturally. I haven't worked on anything since April, in hopes of doing just that. No major editing, little querying, a couple contests, and that is about it. I'm trying to give my creative side a bit of a break. It's still frustrating, because I want to tell stories. I want to create something.
Then again, I had the same issues during this time of year with my first book. Maybe Springtime simply isn't my time of year to write. Go figure.
Any advice on how to deal with a months long dry spell? Other than, you know, just going and writing.
Friday, May 4, 2012
The Writer's Voice Contest Entry
Title: Shadow's Dawn
Word Count: 104,000
Genre: Adult Fantasy
Query
Caraka cannot escape the psychotic goddess--the Shadow Queen--who possesses her fragile mind. Between the goddess's berating and homicidal crazes, the half-dragon feels her sanity slipping away.
Although the goddess saved her from certain death as a child, Caraka cannot handle the tainted magic that courses through her veins. Caraka knows, though, if the goddess were to leave, she would be dead; in her childhood, her soul was replaced by the goddess' spirit, which is keeping her alive.
Just as her mind was spiriling out of control, rumors of an army of demons, brought to the world by a fallen dragon rider, is slowly making its way across the continent, leaving a barren wasteland in its wake. When war breaks out, she is forced into the middle of a fight she wants no part of.
As the last of the gods, only the Shadow Queen can send the demons back. Unwilling to face the impending army, the goddess cowers away and slips deeper into her insanity. What Caraka want is a sense of normalcy, a chance at a life without someone chattering in her head. If she doesn't help, it will mean the end of the world, yet if she does, it would mean the loss of her soul. Caraka's heart is torn between a desire for normalcy and doing what she knows is right, even if it means the ultimate sacrifice.
First 250
The Black Lion Tavern nestled comfortably between two adjoining buildings. It sported a plaque above it's door that hung dangerously askew. Just past the creaking double doors, the tavern filled with the commotion of excitement. The autumn air swelled with the stench of vomit and seaweed, mixed with the cracked sounds of tuneless singing and boisterous laughter.
A lone young patron sitting at the bar cleared her throat. Her voice, amidst the raucous of burly patronage, sounded soft and feminine.
"Excuse me," she said. Her eyes watched the manic barman before she lurched forward and grabbed the barman's sleeve.
The bartender stopped and nearly dropped the mugs he was carrying. He stared at the cloaked customer, eyes bulging out of their sockets and sweat draining down his face.
“What is it, missy? Make it quick now, we are grossly busy.
The patron motioned towards the empty mug in front of her. Her sharpened nails clicked on the wooden bar. "I just want my mug refilled."
The man blinked. “With what? Refresh me.”
“Water?”
Narrowing his eyes, he leaned forward and attempted to see past the shadows of the hood. Two silvery-green eyes stared back at him, dark circles jumping out against the ashen skin. Strands of silver and red hair gently fell across the already shadowed, round face. A pair of black, lupine ears poked out from under the hood, twitching curiously. "What's your name, dearie?"
She stared at him suspiciously for a moment before saying, "My name is Caraka."
Word Count: 104,000
Genre: Adult Fantasy
Query
Caraka cannot escape the psychotic goddess--the Shadow Queen--who possesses her fragile mind. Between the goddess's berating and homicidal crazes, the half-dragon feels her sanity slipping away.
Although the goddess saved her from certain death as a child, Caraka cannot handle the tainted magic that courses through her veins. Caraka knows, though, if the goddess were to leave, she would be dead; in her childhood, her soul was replaced by the goddess' spirit, which is keeping her alive.
Just as her mind was spiriling out of control, rumors of an army of demons, brought to the world by a fallen dragon rider, is slowly making its way across the continent, leaving a barren wasteland in its wake. When war breaks out, she is forced into the middle of a fight she wants no part of.
As the last of the gods, only the Shadow Queen can send the demons back. Unwilling to face the impending army, the goddess cowers away and slips deeper into her insanity. What Caraka want is a sense of normalcy, a chance at a life without someone chattering in her head. If she doesn't help, it will mean the end of the world, yet if she does, it would mean the loss of her soul. Caraka's heart is torn between a desire for normalcy and doing what she knows is right, even if it means the ultimate sacrifice.
First 250
The Black Lion Tavern nestled comfortably between two adjoining buildings. It sported a plaque above it's door that hung dangerously askew. Just past the creaking double doors, the tavern filled with the commotion of excitement. The autumn air swelled with the stench of vomit and seaweed, mixed with the cracked sounds of tuneless singing and boisterous laughter.
A lone young patron sitting at the bar cleared her throat. Her voice, amidst the raucous of burly patronage, sounded soft and feminine.
"Excuse me," she said. Her eyes watched the manic barman before she lurched forward and grabbed the barman's sleeve.
The bartender stopped and nearly dropped the mugs he was carrying. He stared at the cloaked customer, eyes bulging out of their sockets and sweat draining down his face.
“What is it, missy? Make it quick now, we are grossly busy.
The patron motioned towards the empty mug in front of her. Her sharpened nails clicked on the wooden bar. "I just want my mug refilled."
The man blinked. “With what? Refresh me.”
“Water?”
Narrowing his eyes, he leaned forward and attempted to see past the shadows of the hood. Two silvery-green eyes stared back at him, dark circles jumping out against the ashen skin. Strands of silver and red hair gently fell across the already shadowed, round face. A pair of black, lupine ears poked out from under the hood, twitching curiously. "What's your name, dearie?"
She stared at him suspiciously for a moment before saying, "My name is Caraka."
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