I need words. Give me some words. Don't make me beg.

All I want for Christmas ... are my words back.

I used to have lots of words. Thousands and thousands of them. I would sit down at the keyboard and weave tales and create worlds and imagine characters that weren’t just characters to me. They were living breathing people.

But, to be perfectly honest, I haven’t been writing. I’ve lost all my words. I’ve tried, but I can’t find them.

Help!

I have multiple projects in progress. Projects I’m excited about and ones that should be relatively easy to finish. The characters, locations and plot points are right there, waiting to be fleshed out and realized. I see them. I feel them. I just can’t write them.

Instead, I spent most of the summer having every single one of my titles reedited. There were a bunch of nagging issues and my known weakness is that I never, ever catch all of my editing errors. Never. So, I always hire the work out, but still, I’ve known there were issues with books already out there. I decided to have every book reedited. It wasn’t cheap and it took a long time.

Then, I was having all kinds of issues with my website. I had never been able to get it to look the way I wanted. So damn frustrating. I hired a web designer to finally have the kind of website I wanted and the look I was after.

I sometimes find words in fire, but I've looked and they aren't there. Even Sojue has helped search.

Prior to this summer, my books were all exclusive to Amazon. I wanted to change that, so I went through the business of researching and deciding the best way to get them published to a wider market. I even considered issuing them in hardcover. When I finally made a choice, I went through the business of reissuing all of my books on multiple platforms, which also takes a great deal of time.

And as the political animal that I am, I can’t ignore that all of what is going on in Washington is a distraction that has virtually paralyzed me. Every time RGB sneezes, my heart stops. Each new revelation and public testimony restricts my airways. I know one day this nightmare will be over, but right now, I don’t recognize my country. In light of that it’s difficult to follow Hester, Quincy, and Rashid into sewers to battle trolls.  

I know it may sound like I’m making excuses, but all of these things drain the sand from the clock, sap your energy, and frankly squeeze every single bit of fun out of the business of writing.

Finding and hiring an editor, building a relationship, trusting them to work through each manuscript, making the changes and adjustments, all went as I expected. But then, just last week, I received a new review. She loved the story, but I was absolutely crushed when she withheld one star because she’d become frustrated with the errors she found in one of my books. ERRORS? STILL?

Then, imagine my frustration when I realized the web designer I hired had built fatal flaws into the site, breaking things that weren’t broken and leaving me with plugins and themes that couldn’t be updated. I had to hire yet another person to redo what I’d spent a great deal of money to have done. The website is back up and running now, but my trust in hiring freelancers is trounced. Not that I won’t do it again. I just don’t know what I could have done differently to improve the outcome I’d had with the first one.  

Unfortunately, much of this happened just before and during the publication of The Bonding Blade. I’d worked diligently on the book and I absolutely love the story. From Subaru, to Clark, to Erika and Sarah, the characters and situations are some of the favorites I’ve ever written. It’s a damn good book and continues The Desert Goddess series -- both books, The Bonding Spell and The Bonding Blade could use some review love by the way -- with the kind of twisting mystery, dark and serious situations and wry sense of humor the series embodies. The release was … not a letdown exactly. It just didn’t bring me the kind of joy I usually feel when sending one of my babies out into the world.

Purchased from 13 Magickal Moons in Occoquan, VA. Reminds me a bit like Logan Fredricks' shop in St. Paul, only that place is only in my imagination.

I owe readers of the series a next book and I WILL fulfill that promise. The problem is, I’m a bit lost. I’ve lost my words. I’m searching for them, but so far, they have remained elusive.

I’m going on a trip soon and hope I’ll find some words under some rocks there, maybe buried in the ashes of a fireplace. I really am looking for them everywhere. I wish my mom would send some word from Heaven that I’ve left them in my sock drawer. I can’t hire Master Sergeant Lauren Harper to figure out where they’ve gone. I’m sure she and Harry are on Holiday leave.

So, if you have a good lead on where I can find some words, please let me know. I will take them in the form of inspiration gift cards, or writing prompt packages, a word download infusion, a sage cleansing, or magical talisman like the Muse Touch I purchased from a witches shop in Occoquan, Virginia. I bought it a few years ago, so it probably needs a refresher spell. I wish I had Quincy’s grimoire database. But I don’t. So, I guess I’ll just keep looking.

Happy Holidays! Here’s hoping you get everything you’re wishing for.

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?

Here's an excerpt from the book: 

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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.

(more…)

 

Once again, I have neglected this blog. My neglect stems from the good news that I’ve been very busy writing other things and/or participating in events that have to do with writing. So, it’s all good.I’m having fun with rewrites of the next Desert Goddess book.

A few beta readers have given me some ideas and I’ve been busy incorporating them into the work. My brother, Larry, an enthusiastic fan, gave me lots of additional work to do, but he was right (for once) so it meant adding and subtracting and reworking and it’s taking a lot of time. Which is okay. Even with tightening and moving things around, Book II, The Bonding Blade, will be the longest book I’ve ever written.

I’m not going to predict a publication date this time since I keep pushing it back and pushing it back. Just know that when it does finally see the light of day, it will be the best book I could write.  

In addition to those rewrites, I’ve been a bit more successful in the essay writing business. My piece about Bosnia was published in The War Horse. (YAY!) It was so dang hard to get this thing just right, but the editors on The War Horse don’t let you get away with half-stepping. Ever since I attended their writing workshop, I made it a goal to get something published there. I’m proud of this piece. I’ve had a lot of great feedback on it and I know that it touched some folks in exactly the way I wanted it to, so it’s all good. There will be more essays on the way. I’m picking at one about the convoy I took with my brother from Kuwait to Baghdad.  

In 1997, we saw a lot of this type of transport in Bosnia.

           
 

Fort George G. Meade; The First 100 Years is now on sale at Amazon.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between reading submissions, writing essays and editing podcasts, work with the editors at The Wrath-BearingTree.com is turning out to be a worthwhile creative outlet. For November, the online magazine will publish a series of stories, essays and poetry about WWI as we recognize the 100th Anniversary of the Armistice. A hundred years. So much has happened since the end of WWI. I’ve included a piece that promotes the project, Fort George G. Meade; The First 100 Years, along with an essay excerpted from the book – Paving the Way for the Interstate. If nothing else, the pictures are really cool. In case you’ve missed the many times I’ve posted about this book (a project I worked on for TWO YEARS), you can read a free PDF copy at www.ftmeade.army.mil. But there’s no substitute for the hardcover version which can be purchased here. It’s on sale right now, by the way.  

On Veterans Day, Mon. Nov. 12 at 5:30 p.m., I’ll be joining other veteran authors for a reading at The Writer's Center. The editors of O-Dark-Thirty invited me to be a part of the event that is themed after their most recent issue, “Prisoners”. I’ll be reading from Shoshana Johnson's memoir, “I’m Still Standing,” and looking forward to hearing from the others who will be there. If you’re around that day, I hope you will join us.

By Veteran’s Day the election will be another blip in your rear view mirror. As I’m writing this, it’s only five days … FIVE DAYS until the election. I surely hope you’ve done what you need to do to ensure your voice is heard. Even though my polling place is literally across the street, I couldn’t wait until Nov. 6, to cast my vote, so I stood in line, and looked around me with a smile. I have voted early in other midterm elections. The rooms are usually empty, the election judges bored and there’s little to no waiting. Not this time. The early polling place in my neighborhood was bustling. The best part was seeing the smiles on people’s faces. It was as if we were all breathing a sight of relief. We could FINALLY do something about this. In Maryland, they say some 40,000 people voted on the first day of early voting in 2014. The first day of early voting in 2018 in Maryland, almost 90,000 people voted.  I was one of them.

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CoverFinal-TheBondingSpellLike children, every book gets the loving care and attention they require, but try as you might, sometimes you can’t help but have favorites. Maybe it’s because some are easier to deliver than others, or maybe, with each birth, your latest becomes the favorite.

Whatever. I’ve never had children so I have no idea what I’m talking about!

What I can say is, I love The Bonding Spell.

I love all of my other books, but this one … well, there’s something about it that makes me feel some extra pride. I love the world, I love the characters and I love the potential for this series. There are so many places this storyline could go I’m having a hard time deciding where to take it next. I’m sure wherever it goes will be just as interesting as this first one. (more…)

Copyright 2024 M. L. Doyle | All Rights Reserved
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