Crafty Hunk

 Yay!!! The hunk finished the crocheted bedcover for our bed. KING-sized as you can see. And colorful.

 This is one of my squares. I tend to crochet looser and sloppier. Which did create a small problem when he started putting it together.

 See that row across the top? That was his original strip, planned for the center until we discovered his nice neat stitches were about two sizes smaller than mine. He was going to rip it out and do it all AGAIN! I talked him into using that across the pillows...

 Another view on his side of the bed. Those last two strips were his. So neat...

This is a sample of HIS crocheting. Don't you just hate when your spouse is better at crafts than you? In any case, it's beautiful, don't you think? And another project completed!!!

Today's the last day to comment on the blog if you're interested in being included in my random drawing for a print copy of either Shadow on Stones or Spear of Retribution! The comment must be on the BLOG and anything about the subject of the blog. I'll draw two names after midnight!

anny

Attitude

In general, most things don't get me down. The one thing guaranteed to knock me back is a stomach bug. I can deal with a cold. Or pains and aches. But the belly...

After three days in bed, I dragged myself out of bed, took a shower, had a bowl of oatmeal and settled in front of the computer. Determination and attitude have a lot to do with how we feel. Sometimes, it's best to crawl in bed, pull the blankets over your head and sleep it off.

But I'm slept out. Today, I'll play catch-up. I have a chat at Love Romance Cafe tonight so I'll put together some excerpts to share. I haven't written anything in at least three days so I might see if I've generated any story bits in my sleeping brain over the last three days. And of course, there are always the exciting things like dishes and house work.

How do you get back in the groove after you've been sick? I'm looking for some ideas...

In the meantime, as I said on Monday, in the interest of perking up February, I'll give away one print copy of each of the first two books in the Tuatha Treasures series. What do you have to do to get in on the random drawing?

Well. Comment on the BLOG--not Facebook, but the blog--and the comment has to relate to the blog topic that day. I'll draw two names on Friday night at midnight so be sure you leave me an e-mail addy! Comment on any day this week!

anny

Haz a Bug

Ugh. Woke up this morning with a crappy tummy bug. Spending most of my day on the porcelain throne. So, we'll get back to the important stuff tomorrow.

As I said yesterday, in the interest of perking up February, I'll give away one print copy of each of the first two books in the Tuatha Treasures series. What do you have to do to get in on the random drawing?

Well. Comment on the BLOG--not Facebook, but the blog--and the comment has to relate to the blog topic that day. I'll draw two names on Friday night at midnight so be sure you leave me an e-mail addy! Comment on any day this week!

Since I'm not up to writing a blog today, pick your own topic for your comment!

anny 

Bits and Pieces

The Super Bowl is OVER. Yay. I confess I was happy the Ravens won, because after all--Baltimorean here. But the hype? Ick, ick, ick...

The groundhog didn't see his shadow so apparently spring is on it's way. That must be why there's snow on the ground outside my window. Personally, as a post-menopausal woman, I'm not all that enamoured of heat and humidity. I'm almost comfortable now. Maybe if we moved to Canada...

The hunk has almost finished the bedcover for our bed. AND he's planning another one. I'll post pictures when it's finished. It's BIG and heavy and quite unwieldy to work with at this stage.

As for writing. What with this and that it sort of ground to a halt. Time to get back to it. Maybe now that all the anxiety of my son's hospitalization is relieved, and the interruptions for all the other January stuff are past...maybe I can finally get back to my business. Maybe.

In the interest of perking up February, I'll give away one print copy of each of the first two books in the Tuatha Treasures series. What do you have to do to get in on the random drawing?

Well. Comment on the BLOG--not Facebook, but the blog--and the comment has to relate to the blog topic that day. I'll draw two names on Friday night at midnight so be sure you leave me an e-mail addy! Comment on any day this week!

anny

Print!!!

Yay! Shadows on Stone is now out in PRINT. Just click HERE for more info!

Blurb:
When Russet McGinnis and Maxen Pryce take on the responsibility for a late-season archeological dig, their quest for more artifacts is cut short when an early nor'easter forces them to close down the project until the next spring. The flight home takes a sudden ominous turn as they encounter a strange swirling cloud bank that surrounds them despite Max's attempts to avoid it. Lost in the wilderness after their plane crashes, Max and Russet must depend on each other's love and courage to survive.

Their struggle for survival compels them to bare their hidden secrets and acknowledge their feelings for each other. Homesickness and potent irresistible desire draw them closer as they work together to survive abduction, inexplicable attacks on their plane, encounters with shape-shifters, and a wild ride in a goddess-driven tornado until at last they confront their true destiny.

anny

Shadows on Stone

“What the hell?”

Russet’s head came up. “What?”

“Where did that come from?” Max pointed at the black clouds billowing on the horizon ahead of them. “The radar doesn’t indicate anything out there.”

“That’s a huge storm out there. How can the radar not see it?”

“Gather everything in the cockpit, and stuff it down under the back seats next to the grocery boxes.” He caught her before she chucked the pillow back there, stopping her with a firm grip on her arm. Hold on to that. If we go down, you’ll have it to cushion your head.”

“Well, that made me feel better.”

“That was my goal. Keep your eyes peeled for a possible place for us to put down.”
“Where the heck are we?”

“About an hour from our next refueling stop. And that’s on the other side of the storm.”

He saw her point to an enormous swirling vortex in the clouds. “What the hell is that?” she yelled. “Is that a tornado?”

“I don’t know!” Max bellowed as he fought to keep the plane airborne above the high Adirondack peaks while the black storm clouds bubbled and churned ominously all around them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Russet double-check her seatbelt harness. “Good idea.”

“There’s no way to fly around the storm?”

“We were. The storm is coming to us.” Max scowled as he studied the jagged terrain below. The crazy splotches of brilliant oranges and golds blanketing the steep mountains on the New York-Vermont border were nearly obscured by thick cloudy mist. Lightning flashed all around them, dancing frenziedly on the peaks as thunder rolled and boomed, shaking the sturdy Skyvan.

They were in trouble. Deep trouble. Alarmed and pissed off, he double-checked the weather forecast. Radar wasn’t indicating storms anywhere within a couple hundred miles. Well, they sure as hell were in the middle of a storm with a capital S. He desperately searched the steep mountainsides for a reasonably level place to set the plane down.

With shocking speed, the black clouds swirled around the plane, sucking it into the weird formation. As they flew through it, the engines made odd, little coughing noises. In the flickering light, they shot free of the cloud. He spied a narrow valley with a long meadow and drifted down for another look. With a fatalistic mental shrug, he decided it would have to do and lined up for his approach. “We’re going down!”

A resounding roar accompanied a brilliant flash of light. Seconds before his emergency touchdown, the engines went silent with an ominous plink.

And stuff happens...

Want to know more? Just click on the bookcover!

anny 

Perseverance

Perseverance pays off. Isn't that what advisers tell us? Friends, fellow writers, editors, critique partners all tell us to hang in there. Keep writing. Don't give up.

Well, I don't know about sales. That's different than publishing. And publishing is certainly different than finishing a book. But without finishing...there is no possibility of publishing and there can't be any sales.

About three years ago, I had this idea for a book. A couple would be in a plane crash...and survive. Those of you who read my blog regularly know I have a certain fascination with survival scenarios. So I researched and wrote and researched and wrote...

My critique partners gently--then more firmly--tried to tell me the story just wasn't working. Nope. Not working at all. There were some good chunks scattered throughout the story, but that's what they were. Chunks. And chunks do not a story make.

I knew that.

I just didn't have a clue what to do with it. Finally, I paid for a professional opinion. I sent it off and waited for the report. The woman who read and critiqued it worked especially hard on it because she was a friend. But she didn't cut me any slack. Nope, she didn't, though she did use humor and tact.

When she pointed out the errors--so many errors--of my ways, it was impossible for me to miss them. I'll admit this. It made me mad. And discouraged. And I dumped the story in the dead file and went on with life.

Last year, I was looking through my dead file for something to work on. And pulled out the plane crash story. I read through it again, noting every point my professional reader had listed. And...she was so right. Yeah, she was.

But this was a story I really, really wanted to write. It was still simmering on the back burner. So I closed the file and opened a new document and started from scratch.

That book--my plane crash book--is Shadows on Stone. It's a story I'm very proud of with a hero and heroine I fell in love with along the way. And it's the first book in a new series--Tuatha Treasures.

Sometimes when the story really isn't working, it just needs time. Time to gel. Time to simmer. Time to develop into the story it was meant to be.

If you'd like to check out the final result--just click on the book cover for Shadows on Stone. It was worth the wait. And yeah...perseverance pays off.

anny

Final Edits

For those unfamiliar with the world of publishing...the final edits are the last chance for the author to make changes in his/her manuscript. The publisher sends the corrected/ edited ms back to the author and says, "One more chance..."

Some authors skim through and send it back, but I read it word-for-word. And still find errors, typos, and the occasional what-the-heck-was-I-thinking, head-scratching phrase. It's a slow process.

You might wonder why go through it all, then? Well, writing the book isn't enough. Editing and revisions aren't enough. If this is going to be what's left after I'm gone, I want it to be the best I can do--at this point in time. I might grow to be a better writer in the future. I sure hope so. But for now, this is the very best I can do.

And besides...I'm something of a perfectionist. I admit it. When I find errors in my earlier books I cringe. With every book, I strive to avoid that experience in the future.

So. Final edits. I'll be busy. ☺

anny

New Cover!

Lookee, lookee! Received my cover for Shadows on Stone! Isn't that pretty?

Blurb:

When Maxen Pryce and Russet McGinnis dig up a strange stone on their archeological dig, they don’t suspect the startling ways it will change their lives. The stone—the Lia Fail of Tuathan legend—is the property of the goddess Danaii and she wants her possession back. While flying the artifacts to Russet’s winter home, Max and Russet’s plane is seized by Danaii and transported to Cabhán Geal, home of the Tuatha dé Danann.

Alone and dependent on each other for their survival, Max and Russet confess their love and need for each other, taking delight in their passionate interludes even as they struggle to deal with abduction, shape-shifters, hostile natives and the puzzling demands of the goddess Danaii. Unaware of the significance of the cargo hidden on their plane, they meet each new encounter with increasing determination to survive—whatever the cost—as long as they are together.

But Danaii has a plan, a plan that will take everything they have to give. If they surrender their lives to the goddess, their futures will be brighter than they can imagine.  


Excerpt:

“Well.” He leaned closer and kissed her nose. “Are you ready to go meet the neighbors, honey?”

“As I ever will be. Why do I have the feeling they’re not going to help rescue us?” she asked as she slowly wiped her hands on her sweatpants.

“Probably for the same reason I feel that way. Something isn’t right.” He offered her his hand and led the way around the tail of the plane. He had his eyes on the ground, trying to avoid the muddiest spots so he wasn’t prepared when Russet stopped dead and frantically yanked on his arm.

He turned to see what her problem was.

She was making little whimpering squeaky noises, and the terrified expression on her face raised the hair on the back of his neck. Whipping around, he peered over his shoulder as he instinctively nudged Russet back toward the plane door.

A line of young naked warriors was advancing across the field toward them brandishing spears. That was bad enough. But the enormous tawny griffin leading them was enough to send Max tearing off across the field toward the trees lining the far edge. He had a firm grip on Russet’s arm and dragged her willy-nilly behind him, ignoring her protests and frequent stumbles as she struggled to keep up with him.

“What was that?” she yelled.

“Griffin!”

“What?”

“Keep running.” Max peered over his shoulder and immediately zigzagged off to the right. The griffin was gaining on them. “Run!”

A reminder!!! Chat tonight at 7 PM EST! Details in side bar!

Plan B or...

I have a page or three of notes. I have a file with my editor's notes. I have a manuscript dotted with my editor's notes and corrections.

What I don't have is a sane brain. I have a case of the fuzzies where the ideas and notes are all racing around like hamsters on wheels or butterflies on speed. My mind can't seem to settle on one thing. You know that line, "Oh, shiny..." That's me.

I love my story. Shadows on Stone is one of my favorites. But the edits are turning into a nightmare--not because of my editor!!!--but because I have the attention span of a microsecond.

So I suppose you're wondering what Plan B is? Plan B is simple. I'll print out the manuscript (with notes and corrections), print out my editor's note sheet and take all the papers to the dining room table while the hunk goes for a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Then with my handy-dandy red pen, I'll write out my corrections in what we used to call longhand. Quite frankly, I really think better when writing stuff by hand rather than typing. I suppose that's a holdover from my school days.

When I first started writing (BC~Before Computer) I typed my stuff on a typewriter. Every single correction meant retyping the entire page or two or three. Corrections, revisions, and edits were really serious business. Typos could give you heartburn. Especially if you had to retype a page for one letter.

When I did revisions, it meant drawing neat little arrows to point to an inserted page where I wrote all the corrections with numbers and other arcane symbols that only meant something to me. When everything was corrected to my satisfaction, I sat down at the typewriter and typed. No thinking required.

If any of you have ever worked as a typist, you'll know exactly what I mean. I suspect my brain has reached the point where it refuses to do two things at once--think and type.

So. Plan B tomorrow! Onward!

anny (retired typist!)

Do you see me now?

Yesterday my beta reader returned Shadows on Stone. I've been re-reading it with her notes in hand. There were no major issues though she pointed out a couple continuity problems-- minor plot lines I started but never wrapped up.

After pondering the possibilities, I started at the beginning. Page one. With a red pen. Several hours later, I'm up to page sixty-six...out of one hundred and eighty two pages. I suspect it will be a while before I finish.

Every author I know will tell you they find cringe-worthy issues if they read their work after a considerable time period has gone by. Then, every error, stupid mistake, awkwardly constructed sentence will leap out at the author, seizing them by the throat and screeching, "Do you see me now?"

You might ask, why doesn't the author set the work aside, then? Why not allow it to simmer on the back burner? I suspect it has something to do with income. Lost income. If the book is sitting on the side, it's not earning money for the author. It's as simple as that. Could it possibly be a better book if it simmered a while? Yeah, probably.

But in the current publishing climate, a book that is sitting only generates a loss of income and a loss of face time. You know what that is--it's the presence of your book cover prominently displayed so your readers remember who you are! In the electronic book market, with zillions of books to choose from, a lull of several months between books can mean the difference between some sales and a lot of sales.

There is a reason some authors seem to be banging out book after book. Every new book places their name out there to remind readers of their books--not just the newest one, but their entire backlist--because in the electronic world, books never go out of print. They're always available.

Unless a writer has an enormous following (J.K Rowling and Nora Roberts, I'm looking at you), he or she will spend an inordinate amount of time battling for that precious face time. It might be on the social media such as Twitter and Facebook. It might be on Amazon, Sony, Fictionwise and other electronic bookstores. But wherever it is, it's more valuable than gold.

No one knows what the magic formula is. Some authors take part in blog tours. Some spam their "friends" on the social media. Some post excerpts from their books--or have special pages for their characters. Whatever they choose to do, none of it matters if the finished book is a hodge-podge of errors, typos, and even in one case, part of a chapter missing.

I could submit Shadows on Stone as is. But now that I am reading it, the occasional typos and errors and odd word choices are screaming. What are they saying?

"Do you see me now?"

anny 

WIP Teaser

She leaned back, looking at the plane over the tops of her sunglasses. “You know, that is one scary looking plane. I didn’t pay too much attention to it yesterday. But if I saw something like this, I might be hesitant to approach it, too.”

Max chuckled. “That’s Uncle Diarmid for you. Only he would have his plane painted like a giant Celtic dragon, complete with all that gorgeous intricate knotwork. The artist who designed and directed the painting owed him a favor of some type. One thing I’ll say—she’s a fabulous artist.” He pointed out the row of teeth that stretched from side to side under the cockpit windows. “Those look frightening enough from the air. Close up, they’re terrifying.”

“I just find the way she incorporated the dragon wings with the plane wings incredible. I’m not sure I would want to stumble on this plane in the middle of the night. I suspect that would be a nightmare in progress.” She settled her sun glasses on her nose and attempted an encouraging smile. “Well?”

“Well.” He leaned closer and kissed her nose. “Are you ready to go meet the neighbors, honey?”

“As I ever will be. Why do I have the feeling that they’re not going to help rescue us?” she asked as she slowly wiped her hands on her sweatpants.

“Probably for the same reason I feel that way. Something isn’t right.” He offered her his hand and led the way around the tail of the plane. He had his eyes on the ground, trying to avoid the muddiest spots so he wasn’t prepared when Russet stopped dead and frantically yanked on his arm.

He turned to see what her problem was.

She was making little whimpering squeaky noises and the terrified expression on her face raised the hair on the back of his neck. Whipping around, he peered over his shoulder as he instinctively nudged Russet back towards the plane door.

A line of young naked warriors brandishing spears was advancing across the field toward them. That was bad. Very bad, but not terrifying.

But the enormous tawny griffin leading them was enough to send Max tearing off across the field toward the trees lining the far edge. He had a firm grip on Russet’s arm and dragged her willy-nilly behind him, ignoring her protests and frequent stumbles as she struggled to keep up with him.

“What was that?” she yelled.

“Griffin!”

“What?”

“Keep running.” Max peered over his shoulder and immediately zig-zagged off to the right. The griffin was gaining on them. “Run!”

Max tripped over a hidden tree root as a mighty roar echoed across the meadow. Then a blinding white light pummeled his mind and he fell unconscious to the ground.