Growing Up

Have you ever seen that commercial where older people say things like "when I grow up I want to build homes." or "when I grow up I want to write a novel."? 

At first I just laughed.  "Hey, you old farts, you are grown up," I say.  But wait.  Are they?  Really?  How many of us are "grown up?" 

What is grown up? 

I used to think growing up meant leaving Saturday cartoons behind, or no more sneeking the last of the ice cream out of the freezer before someone else beat you to it.  When I was a kid, I thought grown up meant staying home and crocheting in front of the TV (my mom), sitting in front of the heater with an old afgan thrown over your legs, while everyone else in the house was burning up (my grandmother), but most of all, and the most feared part of growing up was laughter seemed to vanish out of old people's lives (my dad).

I left home very early; the age of sixteen.  I had big dreams of a big world, and I knew if I stayed where I was, I'd never see any of it.  I'd never live my dreams.  And I told my mom on the day I left, I'd never grow up. 

Have I?

Well, if grown up is those things listed above, no.  I still love cartoons.  I still sneak the last of the ice cream out of the freezer before my hubby can.  I like to crochet, but only because it frees my mind and lets it wander over story ideas, plots, and characters.  But unlike my grandmother I hate the heat.  HATE it.  Rarely turn on the heat.  And I laugh.  I mean I don't run around laughing like a brainless idiot, but I'm a pretty happy soul.  I've even noticed since my hubby retired he laughs a lot more, too. 

What's the meaning of this post? 

Think about it.  When we're kids we have imaginary friends.  As writers we've just taken that a step further.  We still have imaginary friends, but we create their worlds, their problems, kill some off, kiss off others, and love them all.  We play make-believe on a daily basis. 

I think I was right when I told my mom I'd never grow up.  My body may be grown, but in my mind I'm still that little girl who loved to make up stories to entertain my friends.  I still love to take down the huge dictionary from its pedestal and find words I've never heard of then try to figure out a way to use it.  In place of the paper dolls I played with as a kid, I now have a character board with photos of famous and some not so famous people to serve as the face and body of the people wandering around in my head and on the computer screen.  

And  I'm happy with me.   

Time to poop or get off the pot

I guess I've spent enough time in that comfortable corner I've placed myself in.  One of my publishers has decided not to place their books into Ingrams and Baker and Taylor, so brick and mortar book stores can order them.   I understand their reasoning, but I want to be able to walk into my local B&N or Books A Million or... and find my books on the shelf.  I'll still write for the publishers I'm working with now, but I want more.  I guess it's time to place butt in chair and try to write a book good enough for the likes of Deidre Knight (my dream agent).  It's time to grow.

As much as I love my ebooks and trade paper books, I'd like to walk into my local RWA chapter meeting and be able to show them my latest and have it be a mass market paperback.  I've noticed the different reactions between trade and Mass.  People seem to be more excited for those authors who have "made it" with the mass paperback.  While trade seems to be more of, "You're getting there."

I want to "Make It." 

The Shape of the World

Sounds like a huge topic, huh? Only for some. I'd like someone to explain to me why some people deem it okay to steal money from me and other authors. They think nothing of downloading my books off of filesharing sites for free. The publisher receives no payment, so I, the author, do not get paid for my work.

I've been asked/told:
1. "How hard can it be to toss some words on a screen and send it on to a publisher?"
2. "It only takes you a few weeks to write these things."
3. "You make plenty off of readers. It's no big deal if a few people get a free copy here and there."

1. You think it so easy, you do it. If it were easy a lot more people would be published.
2. A good book can take anywhere from four months to a year to write. And many authors work more than 40 hours a week and stay up late into the night getting a chapter right. Then get up at dawn the next day to get some words written before they go off to the day job.
3. The only writers who get rich are the big name authors. Those of us who are just starting out, or are what is known as mid-listers, have to keep the day job just to pay the bills. And it is a big deal. How would you feel if you worked for four to twelve months and someone took your paychecks? Hmm?

Whew!!

Yes. I'm tried. But oh what fun I had getting there. EPICon went well. I met a lot of great people and made a few new friends. I lost a few pounds from running from one spot to another. Woohoo!!

As soon as I can I'll post photos from the conference. Sad to admit, I didn't get one photograph taken, so any shots I post will be from others who did.

Now I'm going to play the name dropper game. ;)

Holly Jacobs is everything you've heard and more. She's so much fun to be around. The trick is to find space to be around her. She'd come to a public place and find a nice quiet place to relax, and moments later she'd be surrounded by her fans. I snuck her away for a dinner at a local out of the way restaurant where they had a zydeco band. Hey, she said she wanted a taste of Louisiana. LOL I wish you could have seen her face when the music started. It made my night. Oh, yeah, and the food was good, too.

I managed to sit and talk with Debra Dixon of Goal, Motivation & Conflict fame for an hour or so. No, I didn't pitch to her. (She's with Belle Books) I've been too tied up with EPICon plans to really get anything written this last year. I did talk to her about an idea that's been floating around in my head for a while. But mostly it was just two girls enjoying a chat. If you get a chance to meet Debra, do. She's a sweetie. I'm still trying to figure out how I got lucky enough to get that time with her.

Deidre Knight was there to give us all a workshop on promotion. I'm still heartbroken over the fact that I was running from one thing to another and missed the workshop. But at least I did get to meet Deidre and have a few words with her. If you're ever in the same room with her, leave your nerves at the door, and go talk with her. Turns out she's fairly human and quite easy to talk to.

Louisiana's own Deborah Leblanc gave us two workshops. Marketing and Promotion & When Everyone Says You Can't. Who says you can't be entertained and taught at the same time? Wrong! This self-professed Cajun Woman kept us laughing while making us think on our own. What could we accomplish if we just stop listening to others tell us we CAN'T?

C. T. Adams had to cancel. She came down with the nasties and didn't want to give it to those of us at the conference. We were disappointed, but understood. Maybe next year in Va, C.T.?

Now, I'm going to sleep for a day or two and then try to get caught up. I have a few books waiting to escape. But, I promise, I'll be here more often with words of no wisdom.

I've missed you, my friends. I really have.

Thanks, I needed that.

Misty Dreams by Charlotte Parker



Written by Merrylee
Tuesday, 05 January 2010
Title: Misty DreamsAuthor: Charlotte ParkerPublisher: The Wild Rose Press Genre: Time TravelPublication date: November 20, 2009ISBN: N/APages: 304Series: N/AReviewer: Merrylee
Heat Level:


Rating:

Growing up under her father’s strict and abusive hand, Elita La Rue toed the line at home, rarely making waves with the unpredictable Mathew La Rue, who still blamed her for her mother‘s death in childbirth nearly twenty-one years ago. Enduring whatever came her way and keeping out of Mathew’s sights whenever she could, she faithfully played her role every day at Duke’s Wild West, Mathew’s theme town. But at night, she read her great-great grandmother’s journal until it had become so familiar to her that she could almost recite it, word for word. On it’s pages, she read about gunfighters Wild Bill Hickok and Seth Lucan, fantasizing about them until the night a handsome man dressed as an 1876 gunfighter rode out of a strange mist that had mysteriously appeared on the main street of Duke’s Wild West. She had no idea that the mysterious man, who claimed to be the real Seth Lucan and seemed genuinely astonished by modern innovations, would change her life forever.

Seth Lucan was fed up with living a life tainted by the reputation of Milo Lucan, his outlaw-gunfighter brother. At one time he’d idolized his big brother, happy to draw against him when Milo practiced his fast draw. But that time was long gone. Now, everywhere he went, people thought he was just as low down dirty as Milo, to the point that he’d built up his own reputation as a fast draw. Sometimes it seemed like he couldn’t turn around without some gun-happy yahoo calling him out. Seth was tired of the killing and knew there had to be more for him out there than running from an unwanted reputation. And so he’d come to Deadwood in the summer of 1876, hoping to make enough money panning for gold to start over somewhere back east, where the name Lucan wasn’t so well-known. Instead, he rode out of town in a hail bullets, only to ride into a strange futuristic world filled with half-naked women and contraptions so advanced no one in his time has even dreamed about them.

Now he’s playing at being Seth Lucan with a gun full of blanks, while fighting his attraction to Elita, who insists that she’s going with him when he goes back to 1876 Deadwood, a place that’s fit for neither woman nor dog. Elita, however, is convinced that she is the Elie who appears in her great-great-grandmother’s journal, the one destined to save both Seth and Wild Bill from the fates that lie ahead of them. When the mist again appears, emanating from the old blacksmith’s shop that once stood in old Deadwood, will their love be enough to see them through the consequences of going back in time? Or will real bullets and fate step in to prevent them from re-writing history?

Misty Dreams by Charlotte “C. J.” Parker thoroughly drew me in mentally and emotionally. I laughed, I cried, I breathed this action-packed book in as if it were vitally necessary to my survival. Despite a few spots where the writing didn’t flow quite as smoothly as it did throughout most of the book, this is one of the ten best novels I‘ve ever read. Although it’s 304 pages long, I read it in one sitting. The roof could have fallen in on me, and I wouldn’t have noticed. I was that engrossed in this truly wonderful story.

Ms. Parker’s respect for the era is very apparent in her writing. I’ve read the history of Deadwood and have visited the modern-day town, which remains very much like it was in the 1880’s. I’ve seen the pictures of it when it was still the shanty town Ms. Parker describes in Misty Dreams. I’ve been in the Old No. 10 Saloon and seen the chair Wild Bill was sitting in when he was shot and killed while playing cards, and I can tell you that Ms. Parker’s imagery, her description of the people and attitudes of the time are superbly drawn. I could almost smell the horse manure mixed with the pungent scents or sweat, gun smoke and leather. I could hear the hooves of the horses and oxen, the jangling sound of wagon harnesses and the hurdy-gurdy music emanating from the saloons. Though arguably self-serving, Elita’s sheer doggedness to go with Seth back to 1876 to save Wild Bill was impressive and admirable. Despite her father’s abuse, this young woman is no shrinking violet. She’s tough, strong-willed and able to kick ass when the chips are down. Seth is the antithesis of the wild west gunfighter who’d rather shoot a man in the back as face him down. He’s honest, kind-hearted, still idealistic despite his careworn outlook and determined to protect Elita at all cost, including his own life. The sexual tension between these two builds like a smoking volcano preparing to erupt. When they finally come together, it’s appropriate and sweet while being fiery enough to torch the sheets.

With my love of American history and particular fascination with Wild Bill “Jim“ Hickok, the experience of reading Misty Dreams was very special to me. I must say that I didn’t see the surprising twist coming at the book’s end, involving Homer, Mathew’s hired hand. I sincerely hope that this is just the first of several more time travels to come from Charlotte Parker’s fertile imagination that will bear Homer’s special touch. I can’t recommend this book highly enough. It's one for keeper shelves everywhere.

Giving Credit and Thanks

I was sitting back last night thinking of what I'd forgotten to do. There was plenty. LOLBut the thought came to mind as I was trying to list and put away the recent goodys for the bags at EPICon that I really need to give a shout out to those who have done so much and given so freely.

First, I was to thank Rhonda Penders and R. J. Morris (The Wild Rose Press) for furnishing the bags to hold all the goodies. I'm thrilled with their choice of bags. You're going to love them.

Samhain Publishing, Sabrina Jefferies, Kellyann Zuzulo, Jane Toombs, Ann Siracusa, Ann Morris, Kelly L. Stone, J. L. Wilson, Nan D. Arnold, P. L. Parker, Lynn Rynolds, Donna Marie Rogers (Lisa James, Janet Lacoco, Holly Jacobs, Ilena Holder, Melanie Atkins, Christinane France, Erica Spindler, C. S. Graham, C. S. Harris, Viola Russell, and Eran McCarth have been very generious with their gifts for the bags.

Let me think; Nick, my co-chair, Anna D'Arclon, Publisher Liaison, Dawn, my Promo Liaison, Brenna and Carol for putting up with my panic attacks, and Dan Reitz for putting up with me nagging him. And I must mention Jolie du Pre who is handling the decor for the conference.

Now, I've got to go to the printers and talk out what he needs for me to get what I want. Poor guy. Guess I should thank him for putting up with me too.

Damn it! This is New Orleans

We're not supposed to have temps down into the teens!! If we have to put up with these kinds of temps, then we should have the fun of some snow. But do we? Hell no. It's raining right now, but the temps so far are still in the high 40s. The rain should be over in about three hours and then it will drop down into the teens for tonight. So all we'll get is black ice. Fun.