The Move

Sleeping on the kitchen floor was not an everyday occurrence. Most eight year olds would have considered it an adventure, but not me. We had just moved away from Cedar Hill—a small town in Texas on the outskirts of Dallas. I enjoyed my school, had tons of friends to play with and life was great . . . until we moved.

Laughing, loud enough to wake me, echoed around the tiny kitchen of the single-wide trailer home. Opening my eyes shouldn’t have been a scary thing to do, but as soon as I did my body shook with fear. Three curious coyotes stood with paws resting on the window ledge, peering in at us.

I cried.

Coyotes were not things I wanted to see. The run down trailer was not where I wanted to live. The middle of nowhere . . . not for me. Yet, my parents insisted on subjecting me to it.

"I think they're hungry," my father or brother said. Honestly I cannot remember who said it, but the comment was like a cruel joke I wasn't ready for yet.

After streams of continuous teases--at my expense--my mother came to the rescue and told me why the coyotes were there, but her explanation did little to calm my nerves about the new life adventure we were on.

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What To Blog About?

Recently I've been considering what my blogs should be about. I want mine to stand out and not be something redundant.

So I asked myself, "What do I know that no one else does?"

And the crazy inside of me responded with, "Me."

There you have it. My blog is going to be my life story in bits and pieces--don't worry, I'll spare you the boring stuff. I'll try to update once a week with a new snippet of information and I'll try to keep everything in order while continuing to post about other things as well (good books, my publishing venture, my current life, etc).

I'll post today's entry under the title of "The Move".

Thanks for following!

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Tears Again?

I don't cry! I repeat. I. Don't. Cry.

So explain to me why I keep reading books that make me cry. Am I depressed? No! Am I emotional? Uhh . . . no! Am I losing my mind? Well, maybe! ;-)

Okay, so maybe I'm just reading better books. That was definitely the case last night. My very good friend and teacher and crit partner--I hope you don't mind me calling you that, Sarah--allowed me to beta read her short story.

Her writing is so full of emotion, so full of beautiful imagery and is FLAWLESS. She has a way of telling a story that will rip your heart to shreds and put it back together all in one sitting. That's what her short story did to me last night and I was so blinded by tears I couldn't even write a crit at the end of her last chapter--not that I had a crit to write.

I hope to continue reading stories with her for years and that she'll continue to read mine, too. And I hope one day, one of my stories will bring tears to her eyes.

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My First Submission

Well guys, the time has finally come. Submissions.

I've spent days and nights clicking on the keyboard, waited hours for beta readers' opinions, chewed at my lips reading over my crit partner's reviews, but all of the stress will be worth it someday--in a lot of cases it already is.

Reading and writing have always been passions of mine, but I've never given writing this much time of day . . . and now there's no end in sight. With Wilde's Fire complete, Wilde's Army in progress, and Wilde's Meadow in my mind, I have plenty to occupy my time. On the side, I have other WIP's: a suspense, another ya fantasy, and a children's book.

So, if you would please, wish me luck. Wilde's Fire WILL be published. I just know it. And if not, I won't stray from this writing venture. As long as the stories present themselves to me, I will continue to tell them.

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How to Make Me Cry

As an author--still unpublished, yes; have to finish that synopsis first, but that's beside the point--I find it difficult to look at books the way I used to. I have always devoured novels, picking them up and finishing them in one sitting, but ever since I started writing and learning the tricks/tips of the trade all I seem to notice are the errors.

There are, however, books that I don't find any errors in, that I love from start to finish, that make me depressed and ecstatic all at the same time. My most recent reading--Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater--is one of those books. From the first few lines she had me, by the last few lines I was bawling like a baby.

Why did I cry? Well, part of me cried because the love story was so tragic and yet so happy and part of me cried because my self-doubt started building while reading the book. Every author experiences these range of emotions. We start writing thinking we are awesome, then we doubt, then someone says they like it and we get excited again, then someone critiques us and we crumble. The same thing goes when we read a book we feel we're not worthy of. It's a disease I swear!!

*Sigh. I'm going to pick up Linger today and probably stay up way too late again tonight to finish it. Then I'll return to writing the sequel to Wilde's Fire.

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A Productive Mother's Day

I started this day out reading until two in the morning. What better way to make for a really long day? I knew I was setting myself up for failure because a certain sweet little eleven month old enjoys waking up with a huge toothy grin sometime around oh . . . six-thirty.

To my surprise I never heard her familiar squeals or the subsequent dog barking that usually follows. I was vaguely aware when my husband brought her into our bed and she hit me in the head a few times with her bottle, but then she was gone and I was back asleep.

The next time I rolled over and looked at the clock it was eight-fifty. Eight-fifty??? Seriously? I never get to sleep that late. EVER! And since I was there and no one was complaining--beating me over the head with a bottle, begging me for breakfast, telling me we had to go to the grocery store, you get the point, right?--I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

Of course the greedy sleep was short lived because my husband came in with a huge smile on his face and said, "Happy Mother's Day. We let you sleep in. We thought it would be the best present to give you."

Awwww. Then I got even greedier and asked, "Where's my breakfast in bed?"

Adding to my surprise just moments later was breakfast in bed; served by my three beautiful children all bearing a long-stemmed pink rose, a card and a kiss.

I finished my breakfast and Abby played with my hair in bed. It's beautiful . . . you should see it. NO! I will NOT be taking pictures. After all the sweet moments reality set in and it was time to get started on laundry. There are five of us . . . days off are non-existent. After I opened the door I realized my surprises had not stopped in the bedroom. Flowers, plants, pajamas, slippers, books (aww...they bought me more books!!) pictures, cards, balloons.

My family loves me. And it's nice to be loved. ;-)

So once I had all the new presents and plants put away I realized I had a lot of writing to make up for. As many of you know the new Sookie Stackhouse book came out recently and I just had to read it this weekend. Good thing I did because something in it (and don't ask me what because our books are so very different) sparked my creative thoughts and I finally discovered what I wanted to do with Chapter 7 of Wilde's Fire book 2 (no that is not it's name, but what else am I going to call it for reference sake?).

So, I'll pour myself another cup of coffee, pull a few of these clips out of my hair (they hurt) and write until it's time to go out for lunch.

Happy Mother's Day.

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Ideas from Unusual Places

I love writing. It amazes me how simple conversations or everyday things in nature can spark creative moments and make me think "That would make an excellent story". This morning on my ride to work--as many know is very long--I plotted out the idea for another book in my head. Now, to find the time to write it. I assigned it a number...so it will eventually make it to the pages--or screen, however you wish to look at it.

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Wilde's Fire - Blurb

For those unfamiliar with my writing--which is almost everyone--I thought I'd share my first book's blurb with you. Hope you enjoy.

“There is no pain in this death, only peace, knowing I am going to die with the one I love the most.” -- Katriona Wilde

Katriona Wilde has never wondered what it would feel like to have everything she’s ever known and loved ripped away, but she is about to find out. When she inadvertently leads her sister and best friend through a portal into a world she’s dreamed of for six years, she finds herself faced with more than just the frightening creatures in front of her. She’s forced to accept a new truth: her entire life has been a lie, and those closest to her have betrayed her. What’s worse, she has no control over her new future, and it’s full of magic and horrors from which nightmares are made. Will she discover and learn to control who she really is in time to save the ones she loves, or will all be lost?

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Who Am I?

One doesn't wake up and say "Today I'm going to be an author" no, that would be silly. One might wake up and say "Today I'm going to be a writer", but even that is not as easy as it sounds.

Seriously, folks, I think I've been a writer my entire life. I remember when I was in third grade I wrote a short story and read it aloud to my class. I was proud of my work and ready to share it with the world.

I cannot remember what that story was about, but nothing much has changed. The stories are a little longer and the writing consumes most of my imaginary "free time", but I'm still ready to share my work with the world.

Join me on my quest to become a published author and if the magical day comes, maybe you'll stay to help me sell some of those books.

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