|
As you all know, I'm right dab in the middle of revising my zombie western romance called WANTED: Dead or Undead. The revisions are almost done too, and I have a really snazzy cover, designed by Author Creations, that I'll reveal at a later time. I'm excited. I am. This is the first novel in which I wrote something out of the norm (for me, anyway. I usually write contemporary stuff. For some of you, zombies are nothing, child's play). All my life, I've been pretty predictable, and so to step outside my comfort zone (which is writing contemporary YA and Adult novels) took some getting used to. I don't know the first thing about writing horror stories or cowboy westerns or even romance, and yet, I decided to combine all three and test myself. A pretty big gamble if I do say so. Will it work? I won't know until I put it out there for my beta readers to read, which will be soon. (I'll let you know what they say when the time comes). But still, to even tackle something so different, and love it, has to mean something. When I tell people I'm writing a zombie western romance, most people ask (my own mother included. I think she was wanting to find out what kind of a daughter she'd raised), "So you have a zombie romance set in the wild wild west?" (This is asked with brows raised and a hint of "you're odd" coating the words). No! Of course not! That's weird! Zombies in love with other zombies, or heaven forbid humans in love with zombies, that would be really, really weird! I made a remark on twitter about how such a thing would be strange and boy did people respond. I was sent this following Youtube clip by a follower (I like how they incorporated a whole heck of a lot of genres in this one): And this one (not for the squeamish, by the way): Then I was reminded about Fido (one zombie movie I thought brilliantly funny) and the zombie love that permeates this movie:  Regardless, I still think loving zombies in more than an admiration from afar kind of way, is odd. It would take a lot of guts (pun intended) to place a kiss on the rotting mouth of a zombie. All I know, is that should my husband, whom I love more than anything even after 17 years of marriage, become zombified, I will shoot him in the head. Maybe even twice. I'm not keeping him around, that's for sure. And I hope he would do the same for me.
So I do like zombies, but I have my limit folks. Zombie love-love is highly bizarre. The only romance going on in my book is between humans. The zombies are purely a device to bring the humans together--just the way I like my zombies, scary and a means to motivate the humans into taking action. How about you? How do you take your zombies--funny or scary? Leave a comment and let me know you've been here. I'll pop over to your place if you do. *This is a strange post. I realize this. Sorry.
4 Comments
 I blame it all on summer. The thick, multilayer coating of dust covering my writing and my writer's brain is the result of a having a very, very nice summer vacation. Darn you summer!
Yes, summer has put a very big crimp in my writing time--so many places to go and see, so many fun things to do. How the heck am I supposed to find time for editing and writing? I knew that once the kiddos were out of school for the summer, it would be hard. I knew going to South Dakota for a week would be hard. I knew going camping in the wilderness (the real wilderness with real bears and real trees and did I mention real bears? . . . well, I can't mention the bear thing enough) would be hard. I just didn't realize it would be THIS hard. Here it is, almost August, and I have very little writing/editing done to show this summer. It's pathetic really. So sad. I mean, how exactly was I supposed to write in the wilderness? There wasn't exactly a current bush near by to plug into (and don't say use a notebook and a pencil because that is soooo passe--not gonna happen). And then, all that aside, it is a vacation after all. I'm supposed to be vacationing. With my family. Doing vacation type stuff. Okay, so I've let a couple of months slip by without really writing or doing anything writerly related. But, because I can't change that fact nor could I have done anything differently about it at the time, I have decided to embrace the dusty writing and accept it. It's okay. Breaks are not only needed sometimes, but can be a good thing as well. For instance, my family now knows what I look like without my pink laptop sitting on my lap. They are so used to me click-clacking away at my keyboard that they know nothing else. I actually went to a school function this past year where each of the second graders drew a family picture and had them on display in the hallway for people to look at. In my daughter's depiction of her family, there I was, holding my pink laptop, front and center. Awesome. Just awesome. Another good thing about stepping away from the laptop for awhile (besides building lasting memories and relationships with loved ones) is that I now feel somewhat refreshed and rejuvenated. I'm ready to edit once more. I'm ready to kick some WIP butt! Now that all my vacationing is done, and August is nearly here, I'm ready to get down to business. August will be better. My writing will be better. It will be okay--perhaps even better than okay. So, how is your summer fairing? Do anything fun? How do you balance summer fun and vacationing with your writing? I won't know you've been here unless you leave a comment.  We've all been told (by who EXACTLY, I'm not sure) that we are never, EVER supposed to discuss our querying statistics or how many rejections we've received.
We're supposed to be hush-hush about it. But not today, folks, not today. My reason for breaking the silence is because I really need to find out what the heck is going on? When I first started querying my YA manuscript Desert Rice back about a year ago, things we're happening on the agent front--I polished my query, sent it out, and within days (no kidding) I had a partial request and a full manuscript request. A few other requests came trickling in a little while later too. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), I was thrilled. More than trilled. Then, when that partial request turned into a full request and then the agent called me to discuss terms of her representing me, I was beyond excited. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face for days. Well, as is my life, things took a turn and it all went downhill from there. My agent submitted my manuscript to a few publishers who quickly rejected it. No one wanted it. Such depression. But on the bright side, so I kept telling myself, I still had an agent, right? Maybe she would be willing to take a look at a couple of other novels I had written and possibly represent those instead. Also, there was still one editor we hadn't heard back from. So maybe, just maybe. I quickly emailed her with high hopes, willing to take a chance. My fingers were crossed. The next day I received a devastating, yet lovely and encouraging at the same time, email back from her. This is what she said: Dear Angela, I haven't heard from the last editor yet. (We never did either--how rude) My news: I'm getting out of the literary agency business. It's just impossible to sell anything these days -- and will be getting worse as more bookstores close. So, I won't be accepting any new submissions. I want you to know, though, that I believe your work is exceptional and should be published. The business is in freefall, which is why so many terrific authors aren't getting offers. Best wishes, Ummm . . . that's not good. Not good at all. So after eight or so months working with this agent, she decided to quit. I was back to square one. What the heck was I supposed to do now? After a bout of depression, I dusted off my wounded soul and started querying once again--the same query letter that received bites and requests. I started that requerying process back in May, and as of to date, I've received zero requests. Zero. Nothing. Na-da. Zilch. But it isn't so much that I'm being rejected (I've received some, don't get me wrong), but I'm hearing NOTHING back. Not a word. I've heard from roughly 30% of the queries I've sent out. But the other 70% is complete silence. That is very weird in my opinion. Very weird. I'm not the only one either to experience this weirdness. Check out Creepy Query Girl, she discusses this same thing. What the heck is going on? If my query is simply not working, so be it. I can tweak it and move on. BUT the problem is that I know it works. It worked in the past. It worked to get me requests. It worked to get me an agent. It worked to get me through the first round in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest. It worked. So my question is this: Is it me? Or is it them? What's going on on the agent front? What about you guys, how has your querying experience been? Are you hearing back? Have you heard of anyone being picked up by an agent recently? Or is it time for me to hang up my querying hat until the publishing industry figures out how to fix the mess they're in?  Did someone say contest? Well, I'll be . . . I LOVE contests! Yes I do!
Brenda Drake is hosting Aunt B's Book Club Contest over at her site. You can check it out here or here for further details. But in essence, the contest will be judged by a group of teen girls who love to read YA. Teen girls--THAT'S MY INTENDED AUDIENCE. I write YA, so this sounds kinda great to me. And of course, what's a contest without prizes? There will be a prize consisting of a ten page manuscript critique plus synopsis critique by agent intern/editor/cover art designer/writer extraordinaire--Cassandra Marshall. That sounds pretty cool. A ten page critique and synopsis help would be very helpful. Yes it would. But before I email my entry, I would love to run it by you all to make sure it's at top notch performance--I don't want to look like a fool. That would suck. So take a look and tell me what you think. I can handle it. I'm tough (sorta). Okay, I'm having trouble deciding which one to do. So I'm posting both options, Desert Rice and Wanted: Dead or Undead. Let me know which one sound better. Thanks a bunch! Title: Desert Rice Genre: YA Contemporary Pitch (35 words or less): Samantha Jean Haggert isn’t thrilled with hiding the fact she’s a twelve-year-old girl, but her older brother, Jacob, will do anything to keep Sam safe from male attention and hidden from the law. Excerpt (250 words or less): “Grab ‘er feet!” Grabbing her feet meant I had to touch her and that was the last thing I wanted to do. “Don’t just stand there.” Jacob bent over and took hold of her by the shoulders. “I can’t do this on my own.” I shook my head. The stench was awful and it made me gag. Pulling the collar of my shirt over my nose barely diffused the smell. Jacob stood, put his hands on his hips and stared me down. “Sam, there’s no other way. You have to help me. Just grab ‘er feet so we can get this over with.” The idea of touching a dead body scared me and I shook my head once more. “So you want to leave her here?” He swung his arm wide. I flinched, but my brother wasn’t trying to hit me, only emphasize his point. He needed help, and there was no one else to give it to him but me—his little sister. “Where people can see and the wild dogs might get at her? Is that what you want?” No, I didn’t want that. Of course, I didn’t want that. I wasn’t that cruel, but I still didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t care that she was my momma. It frightened me. I’d never been this close to death before. What would it feel like to touch a dead person? Would she be as stiff as a board? What if the sheet fell off her face and I saw her staring right at me? OR Title: WANTED: Dead or Undead Genre: YA Western Romance with a bit of zombie mayhem for fun Pitch (35 words or less): To join “Red’s” posse, Trace has to agree to her terms: no names, no questions, and he must swear if he gets bit, he can’t cry or beg for mercy when she severs his brain stem. Excerpt (250 words or less): “What’s wrong with Pa?” No one had to tell her that something was seriously wrong. Elisabeth could see it, smell it, even taste it. The fetid air clung to her lips and tongue nearly gagging her. She swiped at her mouth with the back of her sleeve trying to erase it from her senses, but it was no use. Rot combined with a syrupy sweetness filled every inch in the small two-room cabin. “It’s nothing to worry about.” Her ma dipped the washcloth in the tin bowl and rung out the extra water before bathing her husband’s pallid face. “Go put your brothers back to bed, then fetch more water.” Elisabeth didn’t move from where she stood watching just outside the bedroom door. She couldn’t. She was too frightened, believing that if she left, for even a moment, death would seep through the cracks and take her father. Her younger brothers stood behind her, peering from behind her skirts, just as frightened as she was, but too afraid to move either. “Is he gonna die?” She didn’t want to ask, but looking at her pa contorted in pain and suffering in agony, she couldn’t imagine any other outcome but death. She almost willed it for him—almost. Kind of interesting that both stories start out with yucky smells--death and near death. Weird. So which one do you like better? Or do they both suck? Your help is much appreciated. Thanks in advance.  Here I am, trying to squeeze in a blog post or two before I’m off on another adventure next week. Oh, how summer vacations make blogging difficult—but they sure are fun, aren’t they? Last week, my family and I traveled to see Mt. Rushmore in good ol’ South Dakota. Now, before you guffaw at such a trip, (something I did when my husband first approached the subject--South Dakota? Seriously? Ahh, shoot me now) hear me out . . . I had a blast, and I learned something too, which normally I don’t like to have happen when it comes to vacations. Vacations are vacations. Not learning time. Learning = boring. But not so. Not anymore. For instance, did you know that President George Washington and President Thomas Jefferson hated each other? Did you know that? I sure didn’t (In fact, I had no idea what four presidents were even on the mountain—I didn’t care. History bores me). But guess what, folks? Both presidents are carved into stone, side by side. I’m sure they’re loving that. Just goes to show ya, have a dispassion for someone and they just might make a monument to you and your mortal enemy. Anyway, while in South Dakota we went gold panning and actually found gold (not enough to make us rich, but gold nonetheless) and garnets, tons of garnets. My kids LOVED it! We also went down a zip line (scary) and then we went on a lantern cave tour (super, super, super scary—not because of the dark, per se, but because we had to carry heated fire lanterns down these really steep, slick ladder/stair things, and we were told NOT to set down the lanterns under any circumstance, and I was CERTAIN I was going to die. I’m actually quite surprised I didn't). My kids loved this too. It was interesting but terrifying at the same time. We went to Cosmos, the Mystery House(check out Youtube video at the end--I have no idea who these people are. We were told not to videotape anything, but apparently people did, so I'm sharing it with you). For my kids though, they would say they loved the campground we stayed in best of all. Yes folks, I went camping. I hate camping. It’s dirty and messy and not fun. BUT, we stayed in a KOA cabin at the Mt. Rushmore KOA campground and let me tell ya, this was my kinda camping—pancake breakfast every morning cooked by the staff, water slides and water park for the kiddos, paddle boat and bike rentals, homemade fudge and ice cream, horseback riding, movie nights, live music, restaurant, big ol’ trampoline thing that a dozen people can jump on at a time, free mini golf, and a slew of games and various activities to keep a person busy for days. My husband joked that you could literally go to the Mt. Rushmore KOA, stay there a week and NEVER actually go see Mt. Rushmore, or anything else, for the matter, and STILL have an awesome vacation. That KOA was camping heaven. Highly recommend it. So now, I’m home for a few days before I head out again next week to do (you guessed it) more camping. This time it’s just me and not the family. They’ll be staying home. I’m a leader of youth in my area and next week is their annual camp time, in tents, in the mountains—ahh, my favorite thing. You know, even though it won’t be camping heaven, or anything like that, it will be fun. These kids are amazing and we will have a great time. I will miss my laptop though and my access to the internet (what will I do without twitter and email?). BUT, big but here, sometimes taking a break from tweeting, and email, and even writing (yes, folks, even writing) can bring you the needed boost you might be needing to put you back into the swing of things, to get your writing mojo back in line. For me, the break is a necessary evil. I hate being away from my laptop and all the work/writing I need to do. But, while away, I think out plot issues in my mind so that when I return to my laptop, I’m ready to attack it and get to work (hello, mojo). I’m ready. I really am. So after I write this blog post and in between mounds of stinky camping laundry, I will edit and edit and edit. I can’t wait. I really can’t. I’m actually excited about this. So, have any of you had a super fun vacation this summer? What do you do when you need to get your mojo back, and better yet, what do you do to survive being away from your laptop for any length of time?  I think I’m a Fourth of July party pooper.
It isn’t that I don’t like freedom and living in America (because I do, I really, really do) it’s all the parades and fireworks that make me shiver and cringe. It all started (insert Scooby Doo transition scene) . . . I remember it well, we were watching a big fireworks show when I bit into a piece of peanut brittle and out popped my baby tooth and I lost it in the dark grass. Oh the injustice! I’d been waiting for that tooth to fall out and now I had no tooth to put under my pillow. The tooth fairy wouldn’t come! I freaked. My parents assured me I could write a note, but I was certain the tooth fairy would think I was a liar. A liar! I cried and cried and cried. (The tooth fairy DID come and I received big money too—note to kids: when your tooth falls out, lose it. There’s more money to be made that way). Again, when I was a kid, I was twirling sparklers when I dropped one on the ground. It was dark. I couldn’t see, but I picked it up anyway and burnt my finger and thumb. I received two big ol’ blisters for my effort. Another time, again as a kid, my family went to California to visit relatives over the Fourth of July. In California, fireworks are illegal. So we celebrated the Fourth with watermelon. That was it. Watermelon. That’s not right. As a teenager, my best friend chose to move across the country on the Fourth of July. I watched him pack up his VW and drive away while fireworks blasted in the dark sky over head. So sad. As for parades, I was a super cool rocking clarinet player (okay, not) and was FORCED to march in a ton of sweltering hot parades dressed head to toe in black—yes, black. Black polyester pants, matching cowboy looking hat with plume, black shoes, and two shirts (one white t-shirt to wear under our uniform so we didn’t leave sweat stains on the school issued shirts). Cruel. Mean. EVIL. It was awful. Some kids buckled and fainted. Others just sweated profusely. Oh, and if we marched behind horses, we were told (more like commanded) to NEVER break line. Walk through the poop. EVIL. We marched for miles in the sun on dark pavement with poop on our shoes. That’s not fun. Yep, I’m a Fourth of July party pooper. Yesterday, I took my kids to the parade. While they gathered candy and Frisbees, I proceeded to fall asleep. I didn’t mean too. It just kind of happened. So in the midst of school bands (oh, how I pity those kids) and fire engines, I snoozed—part exhaustion, part boredom. I didn’t mean too. It just kind of happened. This happened after I stood for the flag and waved at little old veterans—I am patriotic after all. I’m not a traitor or anything like that, just not a fan of parades. I do enjoy the big firework shows. They’re beautiful. I do NOT, however, like neighborhood firecracker blasting outside my bedroom window until 2am. The boom, boom, pow, snap, sizzle and flash of light really ticks me off. (This was how my night has been the past two days—such joy). I love America. I love my country and I love my freedom and the soldiers who fight, or who have fought, so that I can enjoy the life and freedoms I have. I am grateful. I really am. My flag waves in front of my home as tribute to those who have lost their lives in that pursuit. My prayers go out to those families who have loved ones fighting current wars right now. I just wish my redneck neighbors would blow things up before midnight so I could get my sleep. I mean, don’t they realize I spent all morning and most of the afternoon sitting in the sun surrounded by thousands of people watching a slow moving parade?  Hi. My name is Angela and I’m a reality TV junkie. My addiction is bad too. Real bad. I’m not talking one reality TV show. I’m talking . . . do I have to admit how many? The first step toward healing is admitting there is a problem. Okay, deep breath . . . Apprentice, Cupcake Wars, Chopped, Master Chefs, Project Runway, America’s Next Top Model, Hell’s Kitchen, American Idol, The Voice . . . I can’t get enough. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the idea of watching someone, the underdog if you will, desire to become the next “IT” thing—model, chef, singer, designer—and then getting the chance to compete for it. These are people I’ve never heard of, given a chance of a lifetime to live out their dream. What’s not to fall in love with? Why, oh why is there not a The Next Novel Writer television show? Why can’t writers ever catch a break? Because watching a bunch of writers sitting silently, clicking at their laptops would be BORING. I get that. I do. But dang. It’s a show I would definitely watch, boring or not, AND it would be a show I’d apply for—no bug eating, or running across the world to strange places, or exercising and eating healthy (bluck).  Writers should totally have their own television show. Give us a chance. Come on.
We could start off with like twenty contestants and every day there would be a new writing challenge. Then each writers work would be read aloud by various celebrity voices and presented to the panel of judges—Kathryn Stockett, Sara Gruen, James Rollins, Oprah (this could be adjusted based on availability and balance between fiction and nonfiction, of course). At the end of each day, one writer would pack up their things, their laptop, and leave The Writers Loft (The Writers Loft would be where all the writers hang out at the end of the day and complain and moan about the challenges and talk about the other writers they don’t feel deserve to be there, you know, where the real drama surfaces). The winner would receive a top notch agent and a three book deal with a top notch publisher (to be battled out for the best deal). It could be awesome. It could. Okay, maybe not. But still. I could dream couldn’t I? Ahhh, well. I’m off to finish the 8th season of Project Runway. I need to see who wins. I hope it’s not that one witchy girl—she drives me crazy, and what’s with all the African animal print? (See, I could totally add drama—good TV). What’s your favorite reality show? AND, would you like to be on The Writer’s Loft and compete for a contract? (It could be interesting) |
My Face...Enjoy!
Ahh, the fruits of my labors...
Blogs & Websites You Should Visit
Click for more info about Mallory Rock, Cover Designer
Click for more info about Megan Harris, Editor
Blog AwardsCategories
All
FUN STUFF  
 
 |
