For some authors, all they have to do is announce that their latest book is out and I’ll drop everything and buy it. If I love them, I follow them, engage with them on social media and recommend them to everyone I know. When one such author posted to his Facebook group that his latest was available, I immediately went to my Amazon app and bought it and then took a picture of my Kindle in my hand with his cover on it. About five minutes after he said it was live, the book was in my hands.
“Weird,” he said, as a comment to the picture.
In that one word, I knew exactly what he was feeling.
I don’t think I will ever get over the twisting churn of anxiety I get when a book is about to be released. In just a couple of days, The Bonding Blade will start appearing on ereaders. Some have bought it on pre-order. They will wake up to it on their device and perhaps, begin to read right away. The knowledge that this thing I’ve been working on for a couple of years will finally be available is intimidating.
It’s not just the new releases. Any time someone tells me they’ve just purchased a book or are reading something I wrote, my thoughts immediately go to a hope that they don’t hate it. After all this time, you’d think I’d get over it.
But, no. I don’t ever get over it. It’s very much like the anxiety I used to have when waiting for the results of some test that was worth 75% of the grade. Sometimes I’m unable to sleep and invest extreme efforts to avoid thinking about it for fear I’ll start biting my nails.
Did you know that nail biting is also known as onychophagy or onychophagia? A fancy way of saying that you’re busy chomping on your nails because you don’t want to be doing other things with your mouth. According to Psychology Today, this “Body-focused repetitive behavior” or BFRB is a sign of anxiety. Dah! I just love that they refer to it by an acronym. So very military of them.
So even for The Bonding Blade, this book that I’m so proud of, the book I've spent the last couple of years trying to cobble together, I’m still nervous. Excited and nervous. Maybe excited and relieved and nervous. Definitely excited and relieved and nervous and anxious, but I’m glad the day is almost here.
When you’re nervously waiting for something, what do you do to take your mind off things?
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The first time I’d been in this room, I’d felt overwhelmed by the magical elements seeping from every object but now the magic felt more like possibility than danger. I didn’t have a natural understanding of magic the way Gil, Quinn and Cassie did. My brain didn’t seem to function in the same way Reuben’s worked, and I had, evidently, not inherited my mother’s propensity for the dark arts. But the more I’d watched them wield magic, the more admiration I felt for them and what they could do.
I still wasn’t ready to trust all witches, especially the unguided, young ones who caused more trouble than they were worth, but I did respect those that had a calling for molding the natural elements to their will.
I checked my cell phone for the time again. Waiting for Fredricks began to grate at my nerves. “How does he manage to make an immortal feel like she’ll die before he finds what he’s looking for?”
Gil flashed his teeth at me before turning his most intimidating glare to the wizard.
“I thought you knew where everything was in this hovel of yours,” Gil said. “What is taking you so long?”
“I apologize, my lord. There are many references to blood contracts and many more that claim to be a way to break the contract, but upon further inspection, the breakage usually involves the death of the person who entered into the agreement.”
“Well, that won’t suit our purposes, will it, wizard?” I said.
“No, my goddess. I understand. I think I’m getting close.” He held a large book open, his hand skimming over the words. “This one is a bit different. I’m just working out the translation now, but roughly it says, ah… blood is the permanent bond for which the promise lives. Ah, it goes on, and this was the part I was unsure of. Oh yes, right here it says, ‘but the trials of Shamash bring the … the … I just can’t figure out this word. Sword maybe? The dagger?”
“Blade,” Gil said, his voice heavy. He leaned both hands on the table in the center of the room. “The blade of Utu.”
Fredricks and I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“Gil?”
He straightened, ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You won’t like it, my queen.”
I crossed my arms and leaned a hip against the table. “I don’t like what’s happening to my Quinn now, sooooo…”
Gil held his hand out to Fredricks, who hefted the large tome into his hand. Gil held it up as if it weighed nothing. He skimmed the page, running his finger back and forth over the same passage a few times. His face hardened as he read. Finally, his gaze flicked up to me. “You know of Utu?”
I was so happy when that one was crushed into oblivion, Inanna said.
“Nope, but evidently, Inanna does.”
“I would hope she would. Utu is or was the lord of justice in her time. He meted out punishments, adjudicated disputes …”
“And contracts, I assume.”
“Exactly. He is quite well known for having several items which, after his death, could be used to determine the right and the wrong of things as he did while alive. A staff that would bend and twist when someone told a lie. A ring that would glow to identify the righteous party.”
“Handy. Too bad we don’t have doodads like that these days. Are you saying one of these items could be used to break Quinn’s contract?”
“No. Both of the items I spoke of were destroyed.”
“How do you know that? And how could an immortal die in the first place?”
Gil lay the large book on the table and leaned over it, a rigid set to his shoulders. “I know this because I killed him myself, and destroyed his talismans.”
Fredricks shrank back, sucking in air with a hiss, his hand to his throat. The drama queen.
I waited for Gil to elaborate, but he didn’t. The longer I waited, the more disturbed he looked. Finally, he slammed the book shut and picked it up, holding his hand out to me.
“We’ll be back, wizard. Speak to no one about this.”
Here's how the conversation usually goes ...
Interested reader: "Are you writing anything lately?"
Me: "I'm about to release the second book in my urban fantasy series."
Reader: "Really? What's it about?"
Me: "It's about Staff Sergeant Hester Trueblood. She's on duty in Iraq when she picks up a golden coin that activates a spell that makes her the embodiment of the ancient Mesopotamian goddess Inanna. It's the second book in the series."
Reader: ...stares blankly...
Me: "Sounds crazy, I know."
Reader: "No really, it sounds great! Oh my daughter would LOVE that!"
Me: "It's not YA. I mean, it's more of an adult urban fantasy suspense kind of story. Inanna was the goddess of war, and ... love, soooo."
Reader: Now, losing interest. "Oh, well...great. Congratulations."
As an author, you'd think by now, I'd have learned that the last thing people want to hear about is writing stuff. They politely ask. I should just politely say ... something, that doesn't put them in the position to ask anything else. But I have a hard time not talking about this series.
A wise young NCO once said to me, "change is never good or bad. Change is just change."
While in uniform I tended to agree with that philosophy. In the military, change usually meant you had to do it wrong the first, second and third time before you got it right. Change meant classroom training, hours of standing around while someone explained this bold, new change and more hours of everyone complaining that the new change didn't make any sense and then some old been-there-done-that guy explaining in great detail why we should just keep doing things the old way. Sound familiar?
As a civilian working for the Army I can truthfully tell you that the reaction to change hasn't changed much.
BUT, when it comes to this blog ... or more importantly, this website, where I continue to write about women in combat boots, change was necessary. Change was critical. Change had been on my mind for a long, long time and with the help of the lovely Natasha Wilson, change is finally here! (more…)
It’s January and the start of a brand spanking new year. I’ve searched Roku for free fitness channels and loaded them up. I’ve packed my refrigerator with tons of leafy greens with the focused goal of not letting any of them go to waste. I have a couple of large garbage bags full of clothes and shoes I didn’t wear in the last 365 days, and I’ve tossed out all the old shampoos, conditioners, lotions, makeup and beautifying products I acquired over the last year thinking they would somehow improve my life.
I spent money on all that crap and now I’m getting rid of it. As regretful as I may be for having purchased things I shouldn’t have, it feels good to start a new year with a lighter load.
Just as we all make resolutions at the beginning of a new year, writer’s set goals for the words they will produce and this year, mine are a bit ambitious.
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For the last couple of years, I’ve been working on the second book in my Desert Goddess Series. The Bonding Spell, released in 2015, was one of the most enjoyable books I’d ever written. Staff Sergeant Hester Trueblood picks up a shiny, gold coin while on duty in Iraq and her life is forever changed. As the new embodiment of the Mesopotamian goddess Inanna, Hester returns to her home in Minneapolis, and tries to come to terms with her changed circumstances and the bitchy goddess voice in her head.
It’s a wild, Jim Butcher-style, urban fantasy romp that is funny, sexy and filled with mystery. I couldn’t wait to dig into the sequel, but had no idea when I started it, just how much more story there was to tell. “The Bonding Blade” has opened my eyes to more of Hester and Inanna’s world, the warriors dedicated to fighting and sacrificing for them, and the demi-god, Gilgamesh who is devoted, by destiny, to love them, no matter what they do.
It’s a wild, Jim Butcher-style, urban fantasy romp that is funny, sexy and filled with mystery.
As the New Year begins, my greatest goal is to publish “The Bonding Blade” with as much perfection as I can bring to it. I’m aiming for a late June or early July publication date.
While “The Bonding Blade” is going through final edits, reviews and promotions, I’ll be rewriting a couple of stories that were originally published in Amazon Kindle Worlds. Kindle Worlds have gone away, so the rights to these novellas have returned to me and I’m going to make full use of them.
In the first novella, Archimedes Ford is an FBI agent who has slogged through life carrying a heavy secret. His latest case brings him face to face with someone who will make it impossible for him to keep hiding any longer. Major Corey Turner spent his entire career with secrets too, until the military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy finally ended. Archie Ford has difficulty concentrating on solving his complicated case, but he soon learns he’s not just saving the life of a young girl, but also saving his own.
“Archimedes and The Soldier,” is the first of two Archimedes Ford novellas which will both become spinoffs of The Master Sergeant Harper three-book mystery series already in existence.
And if that’s not enough, I plan to at least outline a forth book in the Master Sergeant Harper series. All I know is that Harper will be going to the Sergeant Major’s academy in El Paso, Texas. It’s a huge leap in her career and one she’s been aiming for, ever since she put on an Army uniform. But the academy is a tough school. Not everyone passes and British Sergeant Major Harry Fogg isn’t making it any easier for her.
They say, if you make New Year’s resolutions you should write them down or tell others so you have some tangible proof of your goals and a need to hold yourself accountable. Well, I’ve done it now. I’ll check back this time next year to see how close I am to meeting them.
Win a copy of The Bonding Spell, either by commenting here or on social media. One winner will be selected by random draw.
How do you measure creativity? Is it liquid so you can measure it in a cup or a bucket and carry it? Maybe it's wind since I often say someone's creativity blew me away. Or is creativity something solid that smacks you upside the head?
Three things that carried, blew, smacked me this week.
First, is the novel, The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August, by Claire North. I’d never heard of it, but evidently it was a big hit and all the talk when it first came out in 2014. Not her first book, Claire North made a name for herself after this one came on the scene and I understand why. (more…)
I once heard someone say, “My dance card is full.” I understood what they really meant was that they were overbooked, had too much to do, maybe had said yes one too many times.
There was a time when I lived by the creed that you could never have too many invitations to dance. If too many people asked, just bring ‘em ALL out on the dance floor! In my younger years, when I wore shiny silver platform shoes and dance shorts under my dresses for those times when I was flung over someone’s head, a good disco evening was when most of it was spent under the glitter ball, leaving your sweat on the multicolored floor of flashing lights. (more…)