How editing can make you physically ill, and alternatively why this table might be a euphemism for my life.

I can’t edit here. The table isn’t clean. But I can’t edit there (points) because there lies the internet. Sparkly, shinny, and containing a million things that aren’t editing.

Normally I camp in front of the computer. Pen twirling in my left hand like a bad evil villain's mustache, 140 Characters or less being cranked out with my right as I brainstorm what went wrong.

Then I fix it.

I’m cleaning the table. I’ve used wood cleaner and I like the smell, but I don’t like how it reflects the light from the ceiling fan. I don’t like faux sunshine, but apparently I’m ok with fake lemon scent.

None of that matters though, because now the table is too clean.

I clutter it up with every pen I can find and half a dozen notebooks I’d kill to be writing something new in. It’s not enough.

I find a vase of half wilted flowers, and plop it down in front of my laptop. My laptop that has been denied network access. Petals fall onto the keys below, and I think for a second I could write a poem about that. About decaying purple petals—my mind fills with metaphors for light and death and I like it, I smile, and then I stop.

You know what I should be doing? Sending my full manuscript to Suzie Townsend. But I can’t even read past the first paragraph, and I have to read it again before I send it.

I can’t read past the first paragraph because the table is too clean. There are too many buts. It isn’t Monday, and I’ve already edited this book one time too many in the middle of the night.

Why can’t I just blame twitter? My kids? The coffee maker and its inability to know to make me caffeine via physic message? The butcher? The baker? The candlestick maker? !

Why does it have to be my fault? I’ve sent more full manuscripts to more agents that I am likely to ever admit in public. Trust me, I am a walking statistical impossibility.

It’s my fault, because I made it out to be my last chance. I can’t edit here, there are too many tears on table. There are too many thoughts on my mind, too many things I have to get over before tomorrow.

I read the second paragraph. I can edit here, because the words can take me away. The world dissolves at my feet and I don’t notice any buts.

A bit of bread for the starving man’s soul.

Yesterday I won a contest! That really awesome Twitter Pitch Contest over at Shelley Watters blog. You rock dwellers should even recall me blogging about it. Tweeting about it. Obsessing over it for several days.I never thought would win.

http://shelleywatters.blogspot.com/2011/04/winner-of-epic-follower-blogfestcontest.html

I went to read said blog, got to the end of the honorable mentions totally depressed I didn’t manage to get one of those slots. I didn’t expect I would, but I had hopes when I realized those people got an invite to query.

I didn’t even see my name toward the top of the post but I won. Suzie Townsend said even in a 140 characters she was impressed with the writing in my twitter pitch.

Suzie Townsend.

!!!!!!

And because of that I get to send her my full manuscript. Not PIGMENTS OF MY IMAGINATION. But a dark YA Paranormal Romance called SKELETON LAKE.

Here is the pitch in case you missed it:
Skeletons do regret. Drowning was the easy part. The beautiful but ghastly bones of broken boys & false flesh are now Marlow's whole world.

Have I mentioned I have written quite a few books? Something like thirty. Some of them are terrible. Most of the more recent ones however… well I have high hopes.

Write like a butterfly, sting like a businessman.

Once upon a time, people used to pay me to do marketing. As I was young, and it was for a huge company I made very little decisions and mostly copied things out of a book. Why I am telling you this? Well, while I wasn’t responsible directly for any marketing strategies, that time taught me a valuable lesson in aggression. The effort involved in constantly putting yourself out there has to be crushing for some writers, but even at the butt crack dawn, the day after Thanksgiving, I’m only breaking a sweat if someone denies me my mocha. 

I really think marketing is sort of my natural habitat. I like it, and I am ok with wearing many hats. I don’t think people realize that when they are a writer, even if they have a traditional publishing contract, that they are something like an independent contractor. Ultimately they are responsible for their level of success. All my favorite authors, even best selling ones, can be found on Twitter. They all blog, have contests, they all do work that is other things but writing. In this day and age, if you are going to sell books, you are going to work for it.

While AngelaWriteNow loves all writers no matter their goals or skills; AngelaAllBusinessNow gets annoyed with people really quick.

The business me, breathes fire when her friends make bad business decisions that she could have prevented them from. If only they had asked listened to her unwanted advice.

AngelaAllBusinessNow knows it will never make sense to spend years of your life painstakingly restoring a car (first draft) that you pulled out a junk yard, if when it comes time to sell it, you slash it with mud and insist that people will see the art behind the mess.

I’m sure granny only drove the book five miles to church on Sunday.

Sunday Late Night Pigments Tweets

If you missed it, tonight I started tweeting bits of PIGMENTS OF MY IMAGINATION seen below. Remember it will be available for purchase on Amazon by the end of May.

Tonight’s Tweets: Hand picked by my very own @Karenof4
 

She opened her mouth to speak to him, just as one of the swans gave a loud squawk. Lucia watched, as it pulled itself effortlessly into the starry sky of the painting--she gasped.

He was suddenly so close, she could smell what she assumed was his soap. It mingled with the smell of oil paint, and was oddly comforting.

Enjoy!
And don;t forget I am running a blog follower contest. One entry per post every time you make a comment to enter and win an Amazon Gift Card.

Judge a Book by Its Cover

I originally wrote this whole long complicated post included the WHY but really, that should be for another day.

This is me, revealing the Cover to my new book PIGMENTS OF MY IMAGINATION which will be available to purchase on Amazon on May 30th, 2011

PIGMENTS OF MY IMAGINATION is a YA Urban Fantasy ::ROMANCE::

The eyes are the window to the soul, and Lucia paints them better than anyone else in the world.

I plan to blog about PIGMENTS at least once a week until release day, so don’t blink. Sorry, inside joke.

Take a sec and tell me what you think about the cover, and if you are curious about the amazing artist responsible for this work you can check her out on twitter. You can find a link to her website, and she will be talking about it soon too!

@JenBrookman

Also, don’t forget about my blog contest, after that I will be running a brand new one that has more to do with the book.

True Words of an Actual Double Negative

Attention dear followers! I hate to be the barer of bad news but alas, there is a plague upon the internets! A sickness not spread by vermin, or through the air, but by well meaning bloggers, not unlike myself, that have been infecting rainbows and sunshine on the known writing universe.

I know what you’re thinking (Unless you are a vampire) What’s wrong with Rainbows? What’s wrong with sunshine?

A ton if it’s only a bunch of half truths.

It has become a major blog theme, stay positive, keep going, BE HAPPY.

So what if I want to be miserable? I don’t, but what if I thought emotions, not all of them bliss, and rocks and hard places were more rewarding than any amount of fake sunshine could ever be?

How many of you have read ACROSS THE UNIVERSE by Beth Revis? For my afore mentioned Rock Dwellers you can buy it here (do it):

http://www.amazon.com/Across-Universe-Beth-Revis/dp/1595143971

*Spoilers- sort of*
You know how on The Godspeed, there was no sun. There was a ball of light, a giant bulb in the sky that made crops grow and let people survive, but it wasn’t real?

Would you want to live like that? Live some where the sun was fake? Be it, on another planet, or only in your head? I wouldn’t. I’d rather have a thousand days of real rain clouds than a thousand days of false sunshine.

It’s not that I have a storm cloud over my head all the time. It’s just that sometimes I am sad, miserable even, angry at myself. Why waste time or energy telling myself otherwise? It’s not worth it, and I need you to know, that despite what others might tell you, you don’t have to feel guilty about being unhappy about rejection, being sad something didn’t work out. Feel. And then don’t cover those emotions by pretty and positive exclamations all over the internet. You are killing people who haven’t figured it out yet.

When I started getting revise and resubmit responses on the first full manuscripts I ever sent out,I felt like a failure. So many people had read it, so many people wanted completely different things from it, and alas this story is for another day. But I needed to tell you that to tell you this. So many people said it was some miraculous awesome thing, and all I could think was  THIS REALLY SUCKS. Yes, I understood how it was a good thing. No one sent me a hundred form rejections on my birthday at least, but at the same time I started to feel like maybe I’d never succeed because my attitude was all wrong.

Because I wasn’t always rainbows and sunshine, and sometimes after a bad day I think maybe I should just quit.

I thought it was just me, but it’s not. I just prefer telling the truth to faux stars, and rainclouds to plastic rays of light. I just like to feel. I just want to write.

For Once I’m Not a Coward.

It’s April first.

This isn’t a sick joke, it’s my 140 characters or less Twitter Pitch Contest Entry!

I am really sure that I am not kidding. What I am sure of, is that I have less than 4 hours of sleep, a 3 turned 5 hour drive to the Grand Canyon under my belt, and feet that hurt! Though maybe not as bad as posting my work where others can rip it apart. It’s hard for me no matter how many times I do it.

Shelley Watters is having an awesome blog follower contest here:
http://shelleywatters.blogspot.com/2011/03/epic-follower-blogfestcontest.html

You will recall from that one time you were living under a rock.

Now on to the killing of my soul, in very few words.

“Skeletons do regret. Drowning was the easy part. The beautiful but ghastly bones of broken boys & false flesh are now Marlow's whole world.”

My book is a dark, young adult paranormal romance about creatures you have never seen, but that everyone has.

Would you like to help me make it better? I knew you would ;) And don’t forget when you comment (up to one a day) you are entered to win my follower contest!