Finding the lost Snark and Lucky Seven Challenge

Well, it’s been a busy week here at the Swamp.  Eerie, Mischevious, the Muses and I decided to track down Snarky’s missing snark.  Eerie, Mischevious and I had to swing by the Swamp Shack and drag out the Muses.  They weren’t too thrilled to be put to work, but I really didn’t have the patience to deal with their complaints.  Plus, they were facing off with Quirky’s bartending Muse regarding their running tab.  Before things could get dicey, I convisicated all the sharp edged weapons, and got the mini crowd into the armored Humvee so we could start our search. Chances were good that Snark had probably started out to welcome Dreamer to the neightborhood and got sidetracked.  She can be a little ditzy in the best of times, but we make allowances.  First up was the Filet Your Own Deli (yep, the name changes weekly!) because the Muses decided they needed to “stock up” for the search.  Seriously? You’d think those two had a hollow leg or three stashed somewhere.  I sent Mischevious ahead to the Swamp Thing’s place, because my Muse was speculating how many feathers would be needed for her new pillow and Mischevious was looking a little gray.

Once Eerie and I had rounded up our remaining charges and set off down the trail, we made quick work of the shops Snark could have gotten lost in–Knaves’ End, Everzombie & Flesh, Cave & Coffin, and Vladimir’s Secret.  No such luck.  Finally, after hours of listening to the Muses gritch about the lack of beverage options, we ended up at the Werewolf Moonastary.  We lost the old white haired dude somewhere in the whites, but over in the reds we found Snark.  Oh yes, she was passed out in front of a bottle littered table.  Seems the reds were a bit much for her plebian palate. Eerie and I dragged her to the Humvee, while my Muse took off with one of the hairy monks.  Mischevious found us at Snarky’s, pouring coffee down the slowly reviving Snark.  Give it a few more days, and she should be up to snuff.  If not, I’m sure Snarky Dwark will whip her into shape. Literally.

As I headed home I passed Dreamer’s lovely place.  She was out adding something colorful to her yard.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her it may not make through the next full moon.  Maybe she’ll get lucky and the moat and C. Adile’s cousins will be able to keep her lawn safe.  If not, the Prankster Duo is having a fun time with the Hellhound playing hide-n-seek-the-pieces with Eerie’s Zombie hordes.  We might be able to keep them hidden for a few more days! Just enough to worm our way into Dreamer’s heart.

So this weekend I’m off, leaving Knight in slightly muddy armor in charge of the Duo as Snarky and I crash the Desert Dreams Writer Conference.  Hopefully we’ll make a few new conquests…umm..friends.

And lastly, this week I was challenged by the mighty UF writer Marie Loughin (aka @mmloughin on Twitter), for the Lucky Seven. For those who aren’t familiar, Lucky Seven is a simple little Twitter game that goes like this:

• go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript
• go to line 7
• post on your blog the next 7 lines, or sentences, as they are
• tag 7 other people to do the same

It’s fun, it’s simple, and it can give you a chance to make your fellow writers show off!  So, since I just finished the third and final edits of Shadow’s Soul (out in June 2012), you’re getting a sneak peak of page 77:

Raine laughed, she couldn’t help it. Even Gavin couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips, while Xander lowered her head as if to hide her face. If Tomás thought threatening to sic Mulcahy on them was going to pull them in line, he was bound for disappointment. Mulcahy was the captain of the Wraiths, and if he hadn’t trusted them to do their job, he wouldn’t have sent them down here in the first place.

“Please do, Alpha Chavez,” she said. “Let him know we’ll contact him in the next day or so.” She didn’t need to lower her shields to feel the roil of power coming off the alpha because of her dismissive tone.

And now for the next seven victims!

Liv Rancourt             @LivRancourt

Amber  Kallyn           @AmberKallyn

Joe Alfano                  @Zombie_Joe

Adriana Ryan             @adrianaryansc

Mackenzie Crowne    @MacCrowne

Cynthia Woolf             @CynthiaWoolf

Rachel Firasek             @RachelFirasek

* “Tagged” means that you were called to action or attention via social media avenues such as Twitter or Facebook. So I know I told you about it!

For those following along with my guest posts, this week you’ll find me:

4/22/12            Black Opal’s Some Stories Told should have my post on Pantsing It…Writer Style.

4/24/12            Denise Alicea’s The Pen Muse where you get to follow my first meeting with Raine McCord!

4/25/12            Sarah Merchant’s Work Aday Reads as we go Where The Monsters Live…

–Wicked

Case of the missing Snark…

At the latest gathering of the Evil 7 it came to our attention that our bold whipmistress and supreme ass kicker Snarky Dwarf has suddenly *gasp* lost her snark.  The Swamp is in an uproar.  I’m not sure how we missed such a momentous disaster, but trying to retrieve that mangy feather fiend, Mischeivous from the Three Misfiteers, resisting the urge to show that pompous C. Rock Adile how lovely he’d look in boot form, and making sure to keep those damn Storm Troopers from finding Jedi Dwarf, we seemed to have lost her snark.

Although we’ve bid adieu to Jedi, we have been able to help Dreamer Dwarf get settled. I’ve managed to wrangle the Prankster Duo into keeping Eerie’s zombies occupied so Dreamer doesn’t catch on that the shuffling noises she’s been hearing aren’t the three lost pigs from the other side of the Swamp.  We all pitched in with her beautiful moat and boy is C. Rock going to be pissed when he finds out we bribed his cousins into taking up residence.  I think if we corner a few unicorns for Dreamer, she’ll be okay.  As long as we keep the zombies, the Prankster Duo, the hellhound, Eerie and the Swamp Thing away from her yard.  Maybe her white picket fence and beautifully boxed flower things will keep everyone back.  If not, that’s why we have the moat!

I was going to make my Muse and that drunken fool she’s been hanging out with over at Swamp Shack help me earlier this month, but she’s taken a beating from all the guest posts I had to throw together.  Who knew that trying to come with entertaining blog posts was almost as hard as…writing? Not me, that’s for sure.  However, I’m sure she’s back in fighting form so I sent Mischevious over to Eerie’s so we can figure out what happened to Snarky’s snark.  Between the two of us I’m sure we’ll hunt it down.

Since my Muse was able to help me carve out a good 12 pages today, I figured we’d stick with what works do a little revamping of the Swamp.  Maybe it’s the massive amount of HGTV (Hag and Gnome channel) I’ve been forced to watch late at night while the hellhound has been chasing the Zombies and Knight in slightly muddy armor has been out “raiding” with his friends until the wee hours, but it was time for a change.  Cool uh?

My To-Do list is growing:

1.  Round up Eerie and the Muses and find Snarky’s snark

2.  Do weekly rounds of guest posts at following sites (and it’s a busy week):

• 4/17   Michelle Miles’s Ye Olde Inkwell where I keep with my HGTV motif and discuss A Writer’s Dream
• 4/19  Stacey Donaldson is hosting me at The Write to Make A Living as we take a peek into the Chaotic World fo a Writer’s Mind
• 4/20  The lovely Bri Clark graciously rescheduled me over at The Belle of Boise to chat about Plot and Soap Opras
• 4/21  BK Walker has welcomed me to her Immortyl Cafe to explore how to Forge a Character

3.  Help plan the yearly trip to Troll Mountain.  I so can’t wait for this one!

4.  Keep the Prankster Duo focused for their annual Testing Games–only a few make it through with their brains intact.  Here’s hoping we’ve prepared them enough for the onslaught of data!

I think that’s it so far…more than enough to keep me busy.

Until next week…

Wicked

Pesky Internal Voices

Here’s the deal with diving into your next work in progress after spending an incredible amount of time editing your last piece–your inner critic refuses to shut the hell up!

We’ll refer to mine as VON (voice of my nightmares).

Von showed no fear when I threaten to take her out and dump her in the hole I dug out back in the swamp just last week for such an occassion.  Oh no, she kept right on.  “Don’t tell me, show me!” 

Show her?  Ohhh, I could show her all sorts of cutting repartees that will leave lasting impressions.  Instead, I gritted my teeth and tried to drown her under the pounding melodies of Seether and Nickleback.  When that didn’t work, I brought out the big guns–Korn and the greatest of them all…Trent Reznor.  But still, Von’s venemous whispers wafting through my mind.

I was in the midst of getting Xander back to her partner and a dead body in book 3, when Von broke through.

“That is not going to work. Who told them about the body? Who found it? How come the Pack knows, but no human is involved? And where’s Warrick?”

Really? I refrained from slamming my head into the wooden surface of the table next to my laptop by the barest fraction.  Wouldn’t do to upset my baristas, besides I might spill my drink.  Gritting my teeth, I went back an re-read what I had written.  Damn it…Von’s right…so I went back and rewrote. 

For awhile Von was placated with frappacinnos and coffee cake, while Xander and I worked through a few challenges.  Yes, some of them involving the alpha of the Northwest Pack, but still, we were getting there.  Then Von butted in…

“Why?”

Stumped by the strange question that contained no extranous commentary, I sat there blinking.  “Huh?”

“Why? Why kill this one?  What does his death do to the pack?”

Umm, okay, because…and I explained to her-again-why we were doing this.  She hummed under breathe and sipped her frappacinno.  “Okay, that should work, but we’ll have to see..”

Here’s the thing with Von. As exhausting as she is to work with when I’m writing, she’s an even bigger pest as I’ve been trying to figure out the cover of Shadow’s Soul.  Last week, I asked for feedback on Shadow’s Edge cover over at Cover Art Review blog and got exactly what I asked for.  Don’t mistake me, I’m actually really happy with what I got back.  There were no rave reviews, but the actual feedback was helpful.  However, it did give Von some serious ammunition as she peeked in on what I was considering for Shadow’s Soul.  I have a feeling that until I hit the big leagues or discover some unknown artistic genius residing deep inside me, I’m going to have to make what I have access to for cover art–work.

As for Von–I’ve tried luring her over to Eerie and Mischevious’s neck of the woods, but short of tranqualizing, blindfolding, and trucking her out that way, she seems determined to stick around and torment me.  Even making her play darts with the Muses doesn’t seem to do anything except make her more crabby!  Maybe if I turn up my music, she’ll get bored and go pester Snarky!  With my luck she’ll have a twin or hell, be part of triplets, and then all three of them can torment the rest of the Evil 7 and drive us all insane!

–Wicked

The Horrifying Blank Page…

So with 2012 off to a stumbling start and the fact that it coincides with the fact that I have to start an entire new book from scratch, I thought I’d drag you along each week as I trip my way down the writer’s path of creation.

From previous entries you’ll have noticed that I thought I was doing well.  I had what I thought was book 3 all plotted out.  I even used an actual outline this time around.  I was so puffed up with a sense of accomplishment, which lasted until I gathered at the Swamp Shack with some of the other Dwarves.  Then my puffiness deflated into an oozing pile of goo.

They weren’t overly mean.  I mean I could hear Eerie whispering with Mischievous and only made out a few words: “How the Fur Flies might work”, Quirky just kept saying over and over again, “No, no, no…”, Smokey perked in with an occasional “Did you say you created a book tree? What’s a book tree?”, Jedi  just held onto her Yoda Zen-like opinion  of “Write, do not write, there is only plot” and Snarky, she kept stroking her whip while giving me the evil eye.  Seriously, really not the normal bloodbath but still…

After much debate, some ducking of flying objects I reluctantly had to admit that yes, this would make a fantastic book 4, and I needed to go back and not cheat my future readers and follow  (no spoilers allowed) this particular character for book 3.

So I spent a few days tossing sharp edged things at the wall to see what would stick.  I scratched out a new plot outline, which was similar to pulling teeth with no Novocain.   So now I have a plot that will work with the overall story arc but I can’t get my opening scene to gel!

My typical application of Lady Clairol is just not up to the challenge of covering my spontaneous eruptions of white hair as I labor to bring forth the bestest opening scene ever.  However, this time instead of worrying over the bones of it, much like the hellhound and his decapitated duck from Christmas, I’ve given my self until this weekend to get it together.  Because come Swamp Gas or Zombie hordes, I will begin this book this weekend.

Defenders of Creativity

Here in the swamp there is one day every month that I look forward to with baited breath and giddy excitement–the first Saturday, that joyous day when I make the trek through our stomping grounds over to Smokey’s place where delicious and enticing aromas waft like catnip through the air.  This time I left not only the Prankster Duo and the hellhound behind, but even my knight-in-slightly-muddy armor stayed at home.  He was muttering something about playoff tournaments and had pulled out his old high school jousting thingy. The Evil 7 were meeting for our monthly eat-n-gab and I was anxious to fling a few ideas off of them.

As I made my way through the swamp even the Zombies had a small pep to their normal shuffle-drag so it was more along the lines of shuffle-drag-hop.  Mischievous was tormenting our newest arrival-Mr. C. Rock Adail.  There were bets circulating on how long before Mr. C. Rock-AnAss lasted before someone decided Mrs. Swamp Thing needed a new pair of boots. I was down for a month, but we’ll see…

As I basked in the inspiring atmosphere of the other dwarves, it hit me why these other six individuals are so important to me as a writer.  I thought I’d share these pearls with you all…

1.  They are the only ones I know who can understand that the voices in my head do not equate to a psychotic break, but are in actuality–character development.

2.  Just because I think I have developed a perfectly awesome plot outline for book 3 and should be lauded for my brilliance, they will be the ones to shake their heads with varying degrees of pity and indulgence as they slash my ego down to size with, “Awww sweetie, this is great.. but it’s not book three, this is book four.”  Only they could walk away unscathed from pointing out my mistakes.

3.   They push me to stretch my limits to a breaking point and sometimes even get me to reset those limits somewhere completely new.  Who else could would understand my fear of writing a character who’s not tempered into a lethal weapon by a torturous past?  I’m sure Freud would have a field day with me, but only the other Evil 6 get why the thought of writing a character with a happy past makes my skin clammy and cold while my stomach twists into a Gordian knot.

4.  They’re safe.  Strange concept for a motley group like us, but oh so true.  With them, it doesn’t matter how twisted, dark, wildly inappropriate, weirdly humorous, or silly the concepts are, I can share them and know they aren’t wondering when I’ll hit their house in the middle of the night in a white mask or show up in a white jacket with buckles in the back.  Every writer needs somewhere to bounce all sorts of things around, just to see where they’ll hit or what ideas they’ll spark.  With my group, I have the freedom to do that without worrying if they’ll think differently of me because of it.  They already know I’m warped, so no use in hiding it.

5.  Without them I wouldn’t be working on a book 3, book 4 or even considering 5-8.  We may  have all moved into the Swamp at different times, from different spots in our meandering journeys, but they become my cheering squad, my cattle-prods, my stinging whip of determination and my life saving rope of sanity in the very perilous world of writing.  They’re the ones who can make sure your characters are being true to themselves and their world, your plots may twist and turn but smooth out in the end, and you don’t ever stop writing.

6.  They understand the importance of taking time to dream.  Each of us have had to learn how to snatch our precious dreaming time from the clutches of the real world.  Every writer needs those precious minutes every day.  Time to flesh out those voices in our head, add topography to those worlds we’re creating, and finagle a few twists and turns in those pesky plot lines.  Others may snark at taking time to dream when reality is an oppressive monster, but we understand just how vital and necessary the skill is to our artists souls.  And we guard it zealously with no apologies.

The first Saturday of the month may provide me with lots of adult conversations that seem to be lacking in every day life, but it’s also my time outside of time. It’s a chance to share laughter, ideas, and insights with individuals who are my friends and defenders.  I take huge comfort in the fact that together we become formidable defenders who protect the tiny pieces of our souls that we set into story and lay on paper and place before the intimidating eye of the world.

Wicked

Happy Thanksgiving…7ED Style

It’s the time of year when everyone does the Why I am Thankful blogs, so I thought I’d join along in my own unique way.

Here in the Swamp there are many things to be thankful for this year.  Let’s begin, shall we?

I am thankful for…

…the Prankster Duo.  Who else in my life would make me consider the deep, dark mysteries of the world  with  such scintillating conversation gambits such as:

                “Mom, can I borrow Siri for a second?”
“Umm..sure…why?”

“I need to look up a word.”

“What word?”

“Fart.”

Startled silence… “Why?”

“My friend said he did and it was ‘an explosive sensation from between his legs’.”

I try really hard not to hit my brakes and cause a five car pile-up as I try to find air to drag into my lungs.  My precious 9 year old…oh dear…. “Um, honey, perhaps you should think of another definition.”

“Why?”

Right, how to answer this one without him thinking his mother is a pervert…oh wait…. “Okay, because that definition could be interpreted in a way you would find really gross.  How about  ‘explosive flatulence’?

“Hmm…okay…should I ask why it would gross me out?”

“It has to do with boys and girls…”
“Okay enough said, I’ll stick with ‘explosive flatulence’.”

…my knight-in-slightly-muddy-armor who has stayed beside me while Eerie’s Zombie’s have trashed our yard and the hellhound has seeded the same yard with many landmines.  Not only has he braved that terror, but he has successfully save many an electronic devices from being tested for aerodynamic properties when they refuse to cooperate with me.  Considering how often that temptation occurs, he’s my hero, because recovering drafts from broken pieces of plastic and wires is really hard!

…my hellhound, without whom my floors would not hold themselves down, but float away into oblivion.  Only he could figure out the strategic points that will keep them grounded and still manage to be where ever I have to walk.

…Starbucks and the lovely baristas, because they have saved many an unsuspecting person from violent death while supplying me with my needed caffeine fix that makes sure all my edged accessories stay sheathed!

…Snarky and her bloody whip.  Let’s be honest, without the combo of the two there’s no way I would have dredged up enough courage and armor to brave the pit of submission hell and finally, FINALLY got a contract!

…Eerie, Mischievous Raven and the herd of corpses that tend to trample my lawn.  Not only has he obtained some seriously good wine from the Werewolf monks, but he shines forth humor in the darkest moments and that is truly priceless.

…Quirky for reminding me why cynicism is not always the best thing to use for protection.  His ability to strip down situations to bare bones makes him invaluable to the Evil 7.  Beside it’s fun to watch him squirm!

…Smokey and his fabulous recipes.  However, I’m still not to sure about the octopus and whatever that was that one time in the Swamp where he and Eerie got together.  Strange, but if you don’t tell me what it is, I won’t think about it! It’s nice to know that even if you can’t pronounce character names, you can cook!

…Jedi and her bravery.  I mean, really, think about it.  How brave would you be to walk into a steamy Swamp filled with gods-only-know-who, talk to the short. stumpy guy with the beady eyed raven trying to pry a zombie arm from the Swamp Thing while the Prankster Duo goes screaming by with some weird contraption spitting flame, while Snarky tries to hold back the horde parked outside her porch with a 12 foot whip?  Really, our neighborhood doesn’t need a watch, more like napalm.  We’re glad you survived the welcoming committee and decided to stay!

…BFF, Ang, because who else would dare take me to a move about a sparkling vampire who hatches kids from eggs and an alpha wolf that doesn’t kill for leadership and can’t pronounce his someday mate’s name, and then let me go Science Mystery Theater on it for two hours.  She even held back the prepubescent horde armed with lip-gloss and sparkle and their mothers from trampling me under their keds.  Only a BFF like that can be trusted at your back.

…to all of you for taking the time to follow along, even when the insanity that lives inside me spews outward!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

To Nano or Not to Nano…

It’s November and once again I face the dreaded question, “To Nano or Not to Nano?”

For those not tormented each year by the looming challenge of Nano, let me explain.  Nano is National Novel Writing Month and if you write or have friends who do, it is the one month each year that is greeted with tears, mad laughter, nerves and for those into pain, joy!  Sometimes the entire plethora of emotions will ride you like a demented roller coaster ride.  The goal—write 50,000 words of a novel by the last day of November.  You read that right—FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS.

To give you an idea of what that means, my second book is at 405 pages and 114,000 words.

It’s a lot of words people.  Here’s the kicker—YOU CAN’T EDIT.  Yep, no editing allowed. You sit, you write and you don’t let your inner editor say a damn word.  Sound easy?  Have you ever tried to get that annoying friend who can’t resist giving you advice on everything to shut up?  How successful were you?  Multiply that by ten and your inner editor is cackling madly at your impotence.

So as  November loomed on the horizon, I had to make my yearly choice-do or not do.  I ran through my list of upcoming commitments:
Shadow’s Edge, my very first book, was coming out at the beginning of November

I had 15 guest blog posts to put together, send out, and then remember who and where I was for the next few weeks of November.

There was the book signing for the non-fiction anthology to go to.

There was the pesky little thing known as the job that pays the bills.

I needed to finish and begin editing the 405 page monstrosity of my second book so I could offer it to the other Evil 6 for evisceration.

The Prankster Duo have pretty much threaten to up their rebellion if I don’t acknowledge them at some point and help with the looming education projects coming down the road before Christmas break.

My knight-in-slightly-muddy-armor was requesting face time.

I could not miss my BFF’s graduation—that wasn’t even an option.

Sprinkle in the normal monthly requirements—meeting by the light of the moon with the other Evil 6, visits to local witch doctors before my knight’s lungs decided to created their own mucus nightmares, the hellhound required claw trimming and defurminating, etc.

Oh yeah, and there’s this holiday in here somewhere.

So call me wimpy but I decided to bow out of Nano this year.  Doesn’t mean I haven’t suffered unmitigated guilt ever since though.  Somehow I should have found a way to squeeze in 1500 words per day.  I’m a writer, damn it, it shouldn’t be so hard.

On the positive side, my guilt has encouraged some great ideas for the third book and maybe a whole other story line…hmmm…..

I wonder if I could suggest picking a different month next year?

So for all those brave souls trudging through the mire of words this year, I salute you! Go forth, write and be the hero I couldn’t be this month!

Go Nanomites! Conquer the paper and make it bleed ink!

–Wicked

Gender and Era Understanding

The Seven Evil Dwarves are a very diverse writing group. It is balanced between four fabulous females and three manly, but short, dwarves—of course. More strikingly, our ages span the twenty something’s, the thirty something’s, the forty something’s, the fifty something’s, and the sixty something.

Why is this important, or even interesting?

It is probably interesting because we are such a close group despite the diversity and age differences.

It is important in a writing group because we want to write our stories so they make sense to everyone.

As an example, at our last critique meeting I submitted a chapter that described a pickup truck as having a 4″ lift kit. The ladies in our group had no idea what I was talking about and wanted to know what it was. After a brief discussion around the table, it was determined that only an ancient male dwarf with an automotive bent would understand the reference. It necessitated the revision of the short phrase to a paragraph long description of a truck, raised higher off the ground so it will clear bigger bumps when driving off road. Now all the readers will be able to visualize the truck. You’ve seen the type of truck I’m getting at. So high off the ground you could almost walk under it.

Other references to period or modern phrases which don’t have general, or wide usage by today’s readers are also caught—usually to the dismay of our older un-named writers.

It turns out many things in our own lives and experiences are not general knowledge for the rest of the world. It is important, therefore, to seek out first readers or critique groups which have the diversity to catch the odd 4″ lift kit.

Happy Writing
Smokey

The Joys and Agony of Cover Art

I thought I’d share my first experience in the world of book cover art. Now, to be fair, my publisher would do my cover art for Shadow’s Edge because that’s what publishers do for their authors. But, I know for me, the cover is one of the first things that draws me to a book. With that thought in mind, I really wanted my first cover to do the same. Here’s the thing with Urban Fantasy cover art.

We’ve all seen it, the standard book cover, a very sexy woman holding the weapon of your choice–sword, dagger, gun, knitting needles–with her back to you while nifty cool tattoos either trail down-pick a body part: arm, leg, face, shoulder, back, butt- and you can’t see her face. I get that image, really I do. Here, I’ll prove it to you.

I worked with the wonderfully awesome and, more importantly, patient, Kim Killion from HotDamn Designs. I had it narrowed down to two images, one with a dark haired woman, where it was cropped from just above her shoulders to the top of her thighs. She even had a dagger (not quite the style Raine prefers, but it had an edge so…) and the second image where the woman was facing towards the reader, nicely clean and wicked dagger in hand and the “I will hurt you and you’ll like it” look on her face that I think Raine tends to go to in most situations. Since both designs hit things I really liked, I had to ask my cronies (read, family, friends and the 7ED’s) and put it to a vote. As much as I love these groups, they did not help. Oh no, it was about 50/50 on the votes. Funny enough the guys in the groups tended toward the butt cover, and the woman were split. So I left it up the final decider–my editor. And viola~ we went with the second one. We’re still tweaking a few things, but I’m hoping to put up the final here and at www.jamigray.com very soon.

As a newbie author, I had to turn the wonderful group at Savvy Authors, who gave me some really fantastic names of cover artists. I have to say, there are no words to fully explain how valuable groups like Savvy Authors, or my truly outstanding critique group, 7 Evil Dwarves, become your best fans and your greatest source of information.

So what did I learn through all of this back and forth and hemming and hawing over colors and images and designs?

That I’m so glad there are people like Kim Killion out there who understand that writers are really quite decisive people in general, it’s just that they need someone who has a little patience and knows the right questions to ask to bring these people who live in our heads to brilliant life.

So here’s to the quiet heroes of the writing world–cover artists!

-Wicked

 

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

Greetings once again my my loyal minions,

It's not Kansas But it's home.

Mischievous and I are grateful to be home.  The Zombies are looking a little haggard, I’m thinking that Wicked’s Prankster  Duo might have taken a toll on them in my absence.

The 7 Evil Dwarves first annual writing retreat was a huge success.  Situated in the White Mountains, deep in troll country, we convinced our muses to buckle down and get the word count soaring.  When we arrived we had enough electronic gear to launch a space shuttle.  Yet, I believe if the power went out we would have been scratching away with pens and paper.  It was very intense.  We squeezed in lots of good food and fellowship along the way.  Every now and then someone would say something like “I need a smell, or what would you call a flesh eating humanoid, ect.”  Random answers bounced off the high ceiling of our cabin in response.

When the evening wound down we’d take a break in the hot tub and compare notes.  Then back to the keyboards where we worked until well past dark-thirty.  Of course some of us are more resilient than others and speaking for myself, well I’ve got to get my rest if I’m expected to look this good everyday.  Writing is not for the faint of heart.

I am both blessed and proud to be a member of such a dedicated and generous critique group.  My writing partners are my friends, and I count myself one, very fortunate writer to be able to sit amongst them.  When I do my daily devotions I always thank God for the many blessings He has bestowed upon this sinner.  My friends are always on that list.

When Sunday rolled around we packed up mission control.  Mixed emotions abounded as we were sad to be leaving and looking forward to getting home to our loved ones at the same time.  It took us several years of planning to actually make this happen, but I know everyone is already thinking about next year.

As is my custom I  leave you with a quote this one is from, Richard Bach.

“A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.”

Write On,

Eerie