I Did It!

I finished my contest entry yesterday, and it was mailed today! Woo-hoo!!!!!! Doing that praise dance you suggested, Chicki!

Thanks for all the well wishes, everyone. Let me tell you about my final hours...

The last few hours were, in a word, nerve-wracking! Double and triple and quadruple checking my entry against the contest rules. No mention of a cover letter. Should I include one? What about a title page? It says "first class postage". Does that mean priority mail won't be allowed? Will it get there by the 7th if I don't send it priority? Constant refreshing of the eharlequin boards to post questions and search for answers.

And, boy, am I glad I did that final read-thru after sleeping on it! I was so loopy yesterday morning after finally shutting the laptop down at 1 AM that I couldn't remember whether it was my day to carpool or for my husband to drop me off. I couldn't remember whether Youngest Son had a follow-up neurology appt this week or next. And I called the allergist to find out. I was beyond screwy!

But then I settled down and printed out my stuff. I painstakingly reread the synopsis, first chapter, and emotional scene, word for word. Found a few more misspellings and grammar foibles, despite having checked the night before. My headers were all screwed up! I made just a few minor changes--you didn't expect me to completely hold off from tinkering, did you?--and printed everything out again. Then, I placed it all in an envelope, put the envelope in my bag, and breathed a sigh of (almost) relief.

Couldn't make it to the post office before midnight as planned. Not if I was going to bake those two dozen chocolate chip cookies and two dozen cupcakes for the two youngest to take to school. So I had to trust Hubby to do it for me today. I wrote out instructions, left it with him, and prayed he'd remember before the end of the day. He did! He went first thing this morning after dropping the boys off with their snacks. My instructions weren't too good since I wrote "priority first class" which is some weird combination of "priority" and "first class". But he picked right and sent it priority for me. So it's off and I'm...

Pleased.

Now if I could just bring the same writing quality--without the same crazed intensity--to getting the rest of the manuscript revised and ready for submission. I'm already relaxing my goal of getting it done by the end of the year. The holidays are coming!

New goal: End of January. More on 2008 goals in a few weeks.

Have you begun giving thought to your 2008 writing goals?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

One Day to Deadline...and I'm Away from the Roost!

One day to deadline but I'm done! Hooray!

I put the finishing touches on my contest entry last night. I'm printing, reviewing the hardcopy (so I refrain from tinkering), and mailing it. I even found a post office in my area that's open to midnight. I'm going tonight although technically I have until midnight of the 31st.

Chocolate! Movies! Books to Read! -- I'm going on a writing vacation for a week or so.

Not to worry, I'll still be in the blogosphere. In fact, I'm over at Romancing the Blog today. Join me!

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Two Days To Deadline

Great writing weekend! It sure helps to let one's needs be known. The entire family cooperated, with the two youngest even taking long naps on Saturday, while Most Honorable Son Number One and Hubby were off doing his radio broadcast. (Warning: Plug Coming...skip down, if you don't live in the Tampa area.)

If you're in the Tampa-St. Petersburg area and you like contemporary gospel music as well as strong Bible-based teaching, catch Pastor Bernard Woodside of Harvest World Ministries on WTIS, 1110 AM. Celebration of Praise, a contemporary gospel music program, airs from 2 - 3 pm on Saturdays, immediately followed by WordAlive!, a study of God's Word, from 3 - 4 pm. If you miss WordAlive! on Saturday, catch the encore replay on Sunday from 2 - 3 pm. And tell a friend!)

I began with the synopsis. Worked hard on that all day Saturday. Got it just where I wanted it, then began rewriting chapter one. The writing went so smoothly, maybe because the synopsis is now clean, maybe because this was my third pass on the beginning of the story.

I finished both these things and went to bed. Then on Sunday, I worked on my scene showing the emotional conflict between the hero and heroine based on some notes I jotted down the night before to prompt me. Again, the writing went very easily and this all-new scene is pretty good.

I'm trying not to get excited but I'm coming in for a smooth landing, so much so that I spend three hours at the library with my son doing research for his annual history fair project, then come home and cook dinner.

After dinner, I sit down to do a final reading. I start with the synopsis. Uh, oh! The first chapter doesn't quite match up with the synopsis. It's probably okay when one writes a proposal and some of the later chapters don't match up with the submitted synopsis. But the first chapter???

I feverishly begin tapping away, trying to fill in the whole in the middle. Hubby, who's watching The Bourne Supremacy eyes me surrepticiously but says nothing. Smart guy!

By the time, I shut down the laptop, around 11 pm, I feel as though the hole has been plugged and only needs some polishing. On my way to work this morning, however, I realize that there's now too much in what was formerly the first chapter hole. Too much detail. So as I tootle my way across the bridge, I rewrite that section again in my mind.

When I get to my office, I power up the laptop, jot some notes at the top of the first chapter doc, and close it. Time to let it all marinate. I'll rework the offending section of the first chapter later.

I've looked up all the minor notes I had (like usage of lie vs. lay, synonyms for "wayward" and "ghostly", and the correct spelling of "Andouille" sausage). Once I complete my final read-through this evening, I'm done.

So says the spider to the fly!

Preparing this contest entry is nerve-wracking but it feels so right.

Last words of advice?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Five Days...and Friday Tidbits

Last night, I melded the two versions of my story together, in outline format. I still like the second version best, but there were some plot points and scenes from the first version that help me to round it out.

I'm reviewing it and tweaking it a bit. It will be the basis for my final synopsis, which is part of the contest entry.

I informed Hubby last night that I would pretty much be tethered to my laptop screen this weekend, i.e. don't look for a lot of help from me. I'm determined to get this entry in the mail by Tuesday!

It dawned on me literally five minutes ago that the thing I've been sacrificing in the evenings for the last week is reading at bedtime with the two youngest. Hubby has been doing the bath routine and putting them to bed...with no story. They haven't said anything yet, which surprises me because Middle Son is pretty demanding about his nightly story. So tonight, I'll take a few moments to read...and to explain.

This week's tidbits:
Prevously I mentioned the demise of Harlequin's Everlasting and NexT lines. Well, editor Isabel Swift had a nice post recently, summarizing some of the happenings with the continuing lines here.

Literary agent Chip MacGregor has continued to blog about what's happening in publishing. I thought he only represented Christian works but not true, which explains why his comments frequently focus on industry-wide trends. There are actually several pieces on this topic so check out his posts for the entire month, including the guest post on Chip's blog from NovelJourney's Gina Holmes on how writers should deal with the media.

Finally, like attending book fairs? Find a book fair in your area here.

Enjoy the weekend. You might not see or hear much from me. Say a prayer!

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Counting Down and Crossing the Divide

Six days until deadline!

But I've been busy! I completed a scene-by-scene breakdown of my manuscript. I then did a rough scene outline from my second synopsis, the one I liked better. Now, I'm taking the best of both to do a third and final outline, from which I will write the final synopsis.

The first chapter from the original manuscript works best because it starts where something changes for the heroine. In the second synopsis outline, things have already changed for the heroine and she's dealing with it. Good but not where I need to begin. I need to show the heroine experiencing the change and then her reaction to it.

Thankfully over on the Wet Noodle Posse blog, yesterday's topic was synopsis writing: "Make Your Synopsis Intriguing". A number of additional resources were provided, including Diane Perkins' Synopsis Formula. Lots of helpful tips.

Today's efforts:

1. Re-read contest guidelines to make sure I have everything requested and for any formatting specificiations.
   
   
2. Check arrival date deadline so I know whether I should trust first-class or overnight my submission.
   
   
3. Make supply list so when I go to the store on Saturday, I'll get everything I need, like binder clips.

I plan to finish my submission by Sunday so I can print and package it on Monday. (two days to go) Then, I'll sleep on it and head to the post office on Tuesday. (one day to go). On Wednesday, the 31st, I'll breathe a sign of relief that it's gone and probably break out in hives! (Just kidding but it will be a new experience.)

Am I forgetting anything?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Eight Days and Counting...

Unfortunately, the third installment of Ms. Ray's interview is also delayed. Totally my fault. I misunderstood our original communication re: timing of things so I was a bit hasty with my schedule. On top of that, this is one very busy lady. Outside of family, her work as a nurse, and writing, this lady is very busy promoting her books. I'm learning so much by simply observing her.

I promise to get you the interview conclusion as soon as possible, sometime between now and the end of the month.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have eight days to polish my contest entry and get it postmarked. Eight days. Whew! Where did the time go?

It was July when I first learned about the Harlequin Superromance contest and decided to make a run at entering.

I started a new novel and gave myself a deadline of mid-September for completion. It was hard work, but I made it.

I gave myself a week off and then a month for revision. That means, what? I should be all done?

Things haven't gone quite so smoothly in this second phase. But I'm hanging in there. I'm going to get that contest entry in the mail if it kills me. This weekend is going to be the clincher. I worked on my scene-by-scene breakdown quite a bit last night. That leads to polishing my synopsis, which leads to polishing the first chapter. (That might sound backwards to some folks but that's how it flows in my mind.)

Eight days...

A gal can do a lot in eight days, if the family, my job, my health, my focus, etc. don't conspire against me. My biggest enemy--and the person who gives me the biggest kick in the pants--is myself.

What's the thing that gets in your way when you are most determined to accomplish a goal?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

A Sea of Self-Doubt

I really get the old writer stereotype of the writer fluctuating the elations of publication and the dark despair of producing a publishable manuscript.

I have yet to experience the elation. I refuse to experience the despair.

But I get it.

I forced myself to really engage with my wip this weekend. Enough of a break. My contest submission must be postmarked by the 31st. It was energizing to get back in there.

Yet my story is still bugging me. Why? Because I have two stories. Two synopses that start and end in the same place but veer off in very different directions in between. The first draft is most like the first synopsis but about 2/3 of the way in, I created the second synopsis, so it has characteristics of both. The idea was that I'd use the second for my final draft. But there are aspects of both story outlines that I really like.

So I'm working on a scene by scene outline from the manuscript to figure out what I'm keeping and what I'm tossing. When I'm done, I'll polish the synopsis that will be part of my entry. Then I'll clean up the first chapter and send that thing off.

Sounded good last night. This morning I was strongly tempted to chuck the whole thing and start afresh. With only 9 days to go!

I resisted. Big time.

I'm going to go according to plan and submit by the 31st. Then, because I made a commitment to myself, I'm going to take this thing chapter by chapter, and revise it (like I talked about doing last week, a la Angela Benson's process). At the end of the year, I'll have a completed manuscript.

I may then hide it, never to be found again, but I'll have done it and met my biggest writing goal for 2007.

Does the self-doubt ever go away?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Featured Author: Francis Ray, Part 2

A very prolific and much in demand author, Ms. Ray is graciously answering the nearly forty questions I presented to her in chunks. Hence, the need to break up the interview. I'm pleased that I can post the second part of the interview today, in which we get to learn more about Ms. Ray's extensive writing career and specificially, the Grayson saga.

On to the interview...


Not everyone knows this but you’ve even written and published in the historical romance genre. What appealed to you about entering this genre with a European Victorian love story?

I love the Victorian and Medieval historical romances. THE BARGAIN came to me in a burst of clarity that has never happened before or since. I wrote the 41 page synopsis, then it took 18 months to do the research and another 18 to write the book.

You've also written novellas, like the ones found in the Living Large anthology series (LIVING LARGE, WHOLE LOTTA LOVE, and BIG GIRLS DON’T CRY). Why was that series important?

My daughter, who is full figured, pointed out to me one night that not all women were "skinny." Where were the stories about women with curves? Good question. I called Donna Hill, then we called Rochelle Alers and later Brenda Jackson. All of us liked the idea and went for it.

I have to ask about the Grayson saga. I'm sorry to say I arrived late to the party, unaware of the Falcons or the Graysons until Brandon ’s story was published, DREAMING OF YOU. What was your inspiration for this series?

Readers first met Luke Grayson when he was slouched in the pew at the wedding of his cousin Dominique Falcon in BREAK EVERY RULE. His character just appeared. I knew immediately there was a special woman, and that his mother would be the match-maker for him and his siblings. There are five in my family, 4 girls and 1 boy, so I reversed the genders. Protective big brothers are always fun to write about.

The Grayson saga takes place in New Mexico , an unusual location for series romance and particularly for African-American romance. Why did you choose this locale?

I visited Santa Fe several years ago and fell in love with the scenery, the people, the history, the food. I thought it would be perfect since Native Americans played such an important part in the settlement of the area.


And now, you've completed the series with ONLY YOU, Sierra’s story. I knew Blade would be hot—and that we’d see him again—when I read DREAMING OF YOU. Tell us about this latest release.

Blade is another character who just appeared. I knew the man for Sierra had to be able to hold his own, but I didn't know until I wrote the scene in DREAMING OF YOU that he had a wounded soul. The man for Sierra besides being gorgeous and wealthy, had to have a strength of character that would equal that of her brothers and cousin, Daniel Falcon. That man was clearly Blade Navarone.

Of the Grayson clan, which story was the most fun to write? Which is your favorite character among the Grayson family?

I think the book you just finished is always the most fun to write. However, I'd have to say it's a toss up between UNTIL THERE WAS YOU, DREAMING OF YOU, and ONLY YOU. I loved Faith McBride, a full-figured heroine, in DREAMING OF YOU. But my favorite character would have to be Sierra - independent, headstrong, smart, loyal...and she loved to shop.

Any chance this series could continue? Any more family members in search of romance? What about Mama Grayson?

Thankfully, the series will continue with Graysons Friends & Family. First up is SHANE'S WOMAN. I plan to write 7 more books in all. I don't think the series would be complete without everyone having that special someone and that includes Mama Ruth.

You’re a school nurse practitioner at the elementary school level in Dallas . Do any of your students’ parents read your books and give you feed back? If so, what kind of feedback have you received?

Yes, the parents do read my books. At first, they're cautious when they ask if I'm that Francis Ray. When they learn I'm the author they're a bit awestruck at first, then it's back to business as usual with invitations to book club meetings, and bringing in books for me to sign.

As a matter of fact I was asked yesterday for more full-figured heroines. I was happy to tell the parent that NOT EVEN IF YOU BEGGED, my February 2008 release, has a full-figured heroine.

October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Several years ago, you founded the Turning Point Legal Fund. Tell us more about that organization and what inspired you to start it.

In doing the research for THE TURNING POINT (retitled TROUBLE DON'T LAST ALWAYS and released in trade) I was shocked to discover the high statistics of abused women in Texas and appalled and ashamed that we were number one in homicides in relations to domestic violence. I wanted to do something about this and started the fund. I'm pleased to report that the fund continues to help women restructure their lives.

Does it service primarily the Dallas area, and how can one support your organization?

The fund helps women in the Dallas/Ft. Worth Area since it is administered by a women's shelter in Dallas, The Family Place. I donate a portion of my royalty check so every purchase of my books helps an abused woman.

Thanks for asking how one can support. They can purchase books or send a donation direct: The Family Place/c/o Maria Thomas Jones/The Turning Point Legal Fund/P.O. Box 7999/Dallas, TX 75209.

That is really important work. I like the idea of giving back by donating a portion of the royalties. Again, Ms. Ray, thank you for continuing to share with us.

Readers, come back next week for the third and final installment in Ms. Ray's interview.

Enjoy the weekend, everyone!

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Spaghetti Plotting

I reviewed THE DOWRY BRIDE by Shobhan Bantwal, a contemporary romance set in the Indian culture. Check it out here.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The one thing I didn't say on Monday was that I got a revelation regarding my hero's motivation. And it dovetails nicely with the heroine's conflict.

If you recall, my hero wasn't shaping up the way I would wish. I worked on him a lot and he got loads better but he still wasn't quite there. This new understanding helps...and it makes me need to drag out the first version of the synopsis which I chucked because it had holes in it. This new revelation fills in one of those holes.

When I used to program, we'd talk about progamming code that looped in so many directions, it was near impossible to troubleshoot it. We called it "spaghetti code".

Right now, I have a "spaghetti plot". I'm working my way through the kinks.

I was a tenacious system support person. I'd find the end of that looping piece of spaghetti code...or I'd yank out the whole section, and rewrite it in straightforward, logical code according to business specifications.

Not sure what's going to happen here just yet...

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Featured Book: Only You by Francis Ray

Since part two of Ms. Ray's interview is delayed a few days, I took the opportunity to grab and devour a copy of her latest, ONLY YOU, this past weekend. Ms. Ray has done it again!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------


Only You
Francis Ray
St. Martin's Paperbacks
0312948743
Published: October 2007

If you’re a fan of gripping, sensual romance novels chock full of smart, sensitive, ansd strong characters, both the men and the women, you’re likely a fan of author Francis Ray. And if you’re a fan of Ms. Ray’s, you’ve probably been anxiously awaiting the latest installment in the Grayson saga, Only You, featuring the youngest and only female of the Grayson siblings, Sierra. Wait no more.

Sierra Grayson, high-end realtor, is headstrong and independent, much like her mother, Ruth Grayson, who is determined to marry off all five of her children. Mrs. Grayson has succeeded so far, reveling in the marriages, one by one, of her four sons: Luke, Morgan, Brandon, and Pierce. The only child remaining to be wed is Sierra, who, like her brothersb before her, is doing everything in her power to avoid her mother’s matchmaking clutches.

Until she meets Blade Navarone, billionaire real estate developer. From the first, sparks fly between Sierra and Blade. But he is known as a recluse, and lets no one get close to him, especially none of the many women who would gladly fill the void in his life. Aside from not chasing him, Blade finds Sierra to be unlike any woman he’s ever known, including the only other woman he’s ever loved. Together, they explore—and fight—their mutual attraction, wondering, resisting, and then hoping that the magnetic pull between them is enough to salve Blade’s wounded heart and soften Sierra’s steel-like resolve.

I have yet to read a Francis Ray novel and feel an ounce of disappointment. Only You yields no different results. (I suspect I never will.) Again, Ms. Ray crafts a sexy, satisfying tale of multicultural love, giving readers glimpses of lifestyles not frequently found in romance novels. We get a peek at Blade and Sierra’s Native American heritages, the luxurious lifestyles of the very rich, and the inner workings of an African-American family so cloaked in love that there’s never a question as to whether Sierra and Blade will get together, only when and how.

Although the fifth book in the Grayson series, Only You stands alone, offering a complete yet tantalizing ballet of restrained passion in the face of untouched love. I began the Grayson series out of order but quickly found and devoured every book in the series I could find. After reading Only You, you will too.

And the best part might be that as I began to come to terms with the end of one of my favorite series, Ms. Ray hints of more to come. Shane and Rio, look out!

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Happy To Be Tagged

Kaye Dacus tagged me for 10-20-30. And unlike some tags, I'm ecstatic about this one.

Why?

Because I won't have to focus on the fact that I did NOTHING on my wip this past weekend. I finished reading Jaime Carie's SNOW ANGEL and began Francis Ray's ONLY YOU. The whole time I knew I was procrastinating. But it was that kind of week. I didn't work out. I ate whatever I wanted, which included a ton of devils' food cake with dark chocolate frosting. And I didn't work on my wip. I was five days into a mental vacation before I realized what was happening to me.

Today I'm back to work, beginnning with 30 min of exercise this morning before the day job.

On to the tag, 10-20-30....what was I doing that many years ago?

Ten years ago, 1997, was a very sad time in my life. My daughter Stephanie was stillborn that year. She had spina bifida and didn't survive. My husband and I were devastated and withdrew from one another. Most Honorable Son Number One was only two years old and didn't understand what was going on. It took a lot of prayer and introspection, and a number of years to recover from that.

Twenty years ago, 1987, was just the opposite. I was a couple of years out of Cornell University, living in Cincinnati and working a job I enjoyed, and I was applying for admission to a master's degree program for my MBA. I went to school at night while I worked. I was young, single, and thought the world was mine for the taking.

Thirty years ago, 1977, was Good Times (although the song by Chic didn't come out for two more years). I was in my first year of high school. I both loved it and hated it. I played alto sax in the school marching band, which was the place to be if you weren't athletic enough to participate in competition. I was working part-time after school to help make ends meet but so were many of my friends. My friends and I thought we were the coolest. We knew we didn't have much more than big dreams but we also knew we had each other. The part I hated was that my school was one of the worst in the state academically so I wanted to go somewhere that I could be challenged, which I did the next year. The funny thing is that knowing what I know now, in some ways, I wish I had stayed.

I'll finish Ms. Ray's book tonight and post a review tomorrow in lieu of the second part of her interview, which will post end of the week.

I'm tagging Jennifer, Chelle, Angela, and Donna.

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Finding My Rhythm

First the bad news. The second part of Francis Ray's interview will not post on Tuesday. It will post next week, however, no later than Friday. Ms. Ray is out of town at a writer's event this weekend and needed a bit more time. My apologies and I'll let you know exactly when it's going to post as soon as I can.

Normally, I aggregate tidbits of writing interest to share on Fridays that I cull from reading news reports, blogs, and pretty much anything related to writing.

I don't have any tidbits this week. Not sure whether nothing particularly noteworthy occurred or if I wasn't paying attention. I've been distracted.

Because my revisions...aren't.

They're floundering, not happening. I haven't been able to find my rhythm, in part because the whole thing's on my desktop pc, and I'm away from it too much. My sister suggested getting a looseleaf binder and putting four or five chapters in it, so that I can always revise, at least on paper, wherever I find myself, since I find myself working on the fly so much.

Good idea. I think I work better in revisions on hardcopy anyway.

Then, I feel like I'm rewriting too much. I'm using most of what I have but there's so much more needed to have a good story. Setting. More emotion. More showing, less telling. Deeper POV.


I read a great book this week. Yes, it was part procrastination but it was worth it. It was Angela Benson's Telling The Tale: The African-American Fiction Writer's Guide. I hate the title but love the book.

The reason I don't like the title is that a lot of aspiring authors who could benefit from the book will never read it. They'll assume the book is only for African-American authors. Silly rabbit!

This book is actually a premier for writing fiction, one of the most practical, step-by-step craft books I've read. Ms. Benson named her book as she did for her own reasons, including the fact that all her examples come from African-American literature, television, movies, etc. Still don't think that should have influenced her choice of title, because so many folks will miss out. Just my opinion.

Anyway, check it out. I got some good ideas to help me structure my revisions, such The Rule of 1-3-100. She uses this rule for for the first draft but I'm going to apply it to the revision process. Here's how it works:

1. Edit the first three chapters, one by one.
   
2. Before moving on, go back to the beginning. Read and edit the three chapters together to make sure they flow as desired.
   
3. Continue in this way, three chapters at a time, one by one, then together as a single unit, until I complete the chapter containing page 100.
   
4. Read from page one through the end of the chapter with page 100, and revise as necessary.
   
5. Put that chunk aside and start with the next 100 pages, one chapter at a time, then in sets of three, then the full 100 pages.
   
6. Set aside and go to the third 100 pages, etc.

After the entire manuscript has been edited in this way, let it rest for a bit before reading the manuscript in its entirety for final revisions.

Throughout the process, update my outline or synopsis as I go. Perform the final revision on that after final revision on the manuscript. (I'm not sure if this last part is Ms. Benson's or mine but it feels right.)

What I like about the process is that it gives me a clear way to structure the revision process and create interim goals. I need that. This may well be overkill for someone else.

Ms. Benson writes her first draft this way to keep herself from getting too far off course (she also is a plotter and uses an outline) and from letting the quality of the manuscript get too far away from her before completion. That's where I stumbled. I just kept writing to get it out and now I've got pieces that don't mesh with later pieces, some of very questionable quality, and I'm trying to make hay of the whole thing.

I see why many authors have that first manuscript tucked away beneath the bed, never to see daylight.

But I'm forging ahead. I've done chapters one and two, so I have to do chapter three this weekend, then review the first three chapter set.

There are other suggestions I may try when writing the next novel, and a few things I'll pass on. As with any craft book, you take only those portions that resonate with you and give them a try. No author has all the answers. They can only tell you what works for them.

It's Friday. If you filed a federal tax extension, your forms must be postmarked by Monday. (There's my tidbit for the weekend!)

Enjoy!

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

More on Finding An Agent

The comments on last week's post got me thinking about this agent thing a bit more (more than I should be since I'm trying to revise my novel but I'm done one pass on chapter 2 so I'm still making progress).

One reason I thought the Agent Wishlist, as I'm calling my list of possible agents, was a good idea is that I hear too many stories about writers who get THE CALL, then scramble to contact agents in a bid to find one before they have to sign their contract.

That to me is like ignoring the Check Engine light on the car and then scrambling to find a mechanic (or, to buy a new one) after the thing dies on the side of the road. Both strategies reek of unpreparedness, something I try very hard to avoid, albeit not always successfully.

In the author/agent transaction, both parties wear two hats: buyer and seller. As the seller, I want to put my best foot forward, showcasing my writing talent through the work I submit and conducting myself in such a manner that the agent agrees to work with me. This is what I hear most authors talk about.

But there's another side to the transaction.

As the buyer of the agent's services, I need to enter into discussion from a position of knowledge and relative confidence. Kind of like when one goes in to a car dealership in search of a new car.

I need to know about the different types of agents available to me. No, from what I understand, all agents are not created equal. They have more or less involvement in editing your manuscript, promoting your book, or developing your career, based on their own work preferences. So I need to know this in advance.

I need to be in a position to negotiate. Finding an agent means I have to sign a contract with that agent. Contracts mean negotiation. I'm a regular reader of PubRants, a blog maintained by literary agent, Kristin Nelson. (She's on my list.) Just last month, she broke down her boilerplate agency contract, explaining what each section of the contract meant in layman's terms and indicating which points might be negotiable, at least with her. Invaluable stuff.

We need to fit. I first heard the term "fit" in corporate America, and initially I hated it. It's how they would explain not hiring someone who was extremely talented and could program do the job in their sleep. "She wasn't a fit." As I matured and sat on both sides of the hiring fence, I learned that success was about more than talent and opportunity. It's also about relationships. No one hires the person would clearly shows that they will be a pain in the butt to work with, day in and day out. Doesn't matter how talented or capable the person is.

Assuming my agent relationship will be relatively long-term relationship, i.e. more than one book, my agent and I will need to work well together. I want to know that the agent will be out there selling my work and trying to get me the best possible deals. The agent, in turn, will know that I'm working to improve my craft, will take deadlines seriously, and will continue to write and submit my best stuff. All well and good. But beyond that, it's about personalities.

Some people like leather seats in their cars; others prefer cloth. Personalities.

We'll need to talk about how we'll handle disagreements over editing my manuscript text, accepting publisher offers, career direction, etc. This is not about being buddies, but about knowing that our professional personas mesh.

Then, when's it all said and done, it's still business. Agents can be fired just as they can be hired. So can authors.

After I make it through revisions and come up for air, I'll be scouring the net for specific information about agents.

While I write Book 2.

Should be interesting.

Anything else I should consider when thinking about an agent?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Featured Author: Francis Ray

Today, I welcome one of my favorite romance authors, Francis Ray. Last year, when I was asked to review Ms. Ray’s DREAMING OF YOU, I thought she was another "new-to-me" author. Once I read the book, and was blown away, I began hunting down her backlist, only to discover that I’d read and enjoyed Ms. Ray in novella form a number of times. Then I began devouring her novels.

As I put together questions for this interview, the list was so long that we agreed to break it up into different segments. So this is part one of a three-part interview. Parts II and III will post on Tuesday of the next two weeks, October 16th and 23rd.

Ms. Ray has a new book out, ONLY YOU, the final book in the Grayson family series.But before we get to that, let’s start at the beginning.

Ms. Ray, you’ve have a long and varied career. Let’s walk through it. What inspired you to become a writer?

I was inspired to write after reading the 3rd romance by Katherine Woodiwiss. I was simply blown away by the fantastic characterization, and even more by the fact that the hero/heroine worked though their problems while remaining faithful to the other. Before reading Woodiwiss, I had just finished a fiction novel where this was not the case, and quite frankly, got tired of the bed-hopping and use of drugs and alcohol in a useless attempt to solve problems. SHANNA, the first book I read by Woodiwiss, was a welcomed and refreshing change. Her main characters were exciting, honest, intelligent. I couldn't turn the pages fast enough..

You started out writing confessions stories. (So did I!) How did you get into this market and how did it prepare you for your later writing efforts?

Writing confession stories gave me the confidence I needed to write longer works of fiction. I also like to think it helped me not waste space. Each word, each scene has to count and move the story forward.

Then, you transitioned into series romance with the publication of Fallen Angel in 1992. What inspired you to pursue this genre?

After writing about 16 confession stories I knew I wanted to write a longer work of fiction and develop the characters more. FALLEN ANGEL, originally published by Odyssey Books, a small publishing house in Silver Springs, Maryland, was the culmination of that desire. I sent the book to them because I had seen other books they had published in a bookstore. The book sold on Christmas Eve of 1991.

When INCOGNITO was selected to be the first BET made-for-TV movie, what was your reaction?

Disbelief. I actually asked my editor if she had called the right author. INCOGNITO was my first and only book of romantic suspense. It was difficult to grasp that the book would lead off the BET movies. It was an honor that I will never forget.

How much involvement did you have in that project? Did you have any input to the script or casting?

I had little involvement with the project. The weekend I went to LA to see the screening they were wrapping production. The screen writer never contacted me. In fact, sitting in the room watching the dailies I got the first look of how the book had changed. For instance, Hunter, the hero in my book, had a brother. In the TV movie, he had a sister in a wheelchair living with him. It was an experience that I will never forget.

Which other of your titles do you think would translate well to the big screen?

I think TROUBLE DON'T LAST ALWAYS would make a wonderful movie. The transformation of Lilly, an abused wife to a strong independent woman would work very well on the screen.

I agree. I really got into Lilly’s story and rooted for her victory in love and life.

Not long after, you made the leap from shorter romantic novels into mainstream women’s fiction. What interested you in that genre?

TROUBLE DON'T LAST ALWAYS (originally titled THE TURNING POINT) was my first mainstream. I wanted to write a book where the romance was secondary to the problems of the characters. For the heroine, it was an abusive marriage that she had to find the strength and courage to leave. For the hero, Adam, it was the discovery that being blind did not make him less of a man. Harsh things happen in life. You can either face them and fight/work hard to overcome them or give up. My characters will always fight and they'll always do it in an honorable way.

To date, you remain an active author in both series romance as well as mainstream women’s single titles. Which do you prefer to write?

I love writing both. Each gives you a different scope or set of problems to overcome.

Well, I for one, am glad you write both, as I enjoy the variety, including your novellas. Those and your series titles are like a “quick fix” while we readers wait for your next mainstream.

In any given year, how many categories and how many single titles might you author?

I'm definitely slowing down. My schedule is to write 2 romances and 1 mainstream a year. I'm fortunate to have a wonderful editor, Monique Patterson, at St. Martin's Press who lets me write both.

More recently, you ventured into the Christian fiction market with THEN SINGS MY SOUL. How was writing Christian fiction different from writing your other books?

In Christian fiction, God is always the answer. I find that reassuring and it keeps me focused as a writer. In a romance, while my characters always have core values and faith, these Christian stories (sic) give them the courage to face their demons and change their lives.

Do you plan to do anymore Christian fiction?

I certainly do - when I can find the time. I'd also like to try my hand at writing a young adult book. We'll just have to wait and see what the future holds.

Ms. Ray--and I can only call you Ms. Ray--thank you so much.

Readers, come back next Tuesday to see what Francis Ray has to say about writing historical romance, being a school nurse, and her vision for her career.

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Critiquing is a Two Way Street

Just published another book review at FreshFiction, for New England White by Stephen L. Carter.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I've finally gotten off my duff and begun participating in the critique group I joined several months back.

At first, I didn't critique anyone's work because I didn't think I was ready to submit to the group, and I didn't feel it right to offer critiques if I wasn't taking any. (Blame my mother because I'm sure that has roots in my childhood somewhere.)

Then, I submitted a very detailed outline for critique rather than a chapter or short synopsis, and found the group a bit hesitant to give feedback. A couple of people did, for which I was grateful, but the response was a bit off-putting to me as a new member. I felt as though the group was saying, "Hey, Newbie! That's not the way we operate!" I even considered dropping out of the group. Now that some time has passed, I'm glad to say that I've had an opportunity to get to know some of the members through their blogs and other online activities, such that I have a different perspective on that experience than I did at the time.

Next, I submerged myself in writing my current wip. One thing that I've learned is that I absolutely cannot solicit feedback on the first draft. The only voice I need to hear while getting the story on paper is mine. Thus, I remained a dormant member of the critique group, fearing that any day I would get a polite email terminating my membership.

But now I'm into revisions. It's time to get out there and see how this thing is really shaping up.

I'll be submitting my first chapter to the critique group this week.

It's my writing sister's fault, really. She was preparing to submit an entry into several RWA contests and wanted feedback, first on her synopsis and then on her first chapter. So I gave it to her, and I found that it wasn't so bad giving my opinion on her work.

Which is what a critique is, simply one person's opinion. Each time I commented on her work, I admonished her to take it or leave it because, as the author, ultimately her story has to work for her. And between sisters, there might be a bit more pressure in weighing feedback than between strangers. (Although my advice to anyone whose work I critiqued would be the same.)

Last week, I critiqued a couple of chapters for the group. There are some really talented writers out there. Wow! I'm the type of person who is motivated to improve by seeing the work of others, so it's all good. And I continue to get to know my group members a bit better.

My sister has now critiqued my first chapter. I have to say that I find it to be much different on the receiving end. The first comment that I didn't agree with had the hair on the back of my neck standing up. In part because I didn't agree and in part because of old tapes from our childhood (remember, we used to be oil and water) that she and I both continue to work hard to get rid of.

I found that I could put a bit of distance between myself and the comments simply by printing out the chapter with comments and reading the hardcopy. Something about reading it online made me want to address each issue as it arose before reading the critique in full. I don't think that's the best way, even if it wasn't my sister.

Then, I fought the urge to write back to her to respond to each of her comments, line by line. One, she didn't do that with me so it would be an unfair response. Two, if I do that, we'll be on this first chapter forever. Three, I don't think that's really in the spirit of giving critiques overall. Dialogue about comments is good, especially where I'm unsure of what she meant or where I realize that I know something she doesn't (like the rest of the story) which means her comment may 100% valid or simply lack context.

I suddenly felt as though everything I wrote was pure dreck! And if called upon to defend it, I would certainly say it's more like "not bad but needs work". Yet, those feelings that I had no clue what I was doing surfaced faster than Ivory soap in a tub.

But it's good to get feedback because ultimately I desire for my work to be read by others, particularly those who shell out money to do so! They won't be writers (not all of them, anyway) so they may not be quite as critical but in the end, any feedback that helps me to write a better story is good feedback.

Can't wait to get some feedback from the critique group! I think I'm ready, although I still have to figure out how to incorporate it in to my revision process. My plan is to read it, digest it, and store the specifics for the next pass, while trying to incorporate the general feedback as I go.

If you solicit feedback from a critique group or trusted reader, how do you handle it? Does it ever evoke a less than positive reaction?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Friday Tidbits/ Eight Final Things

It's Friday. Long week. Still not getting enough sleep, which started to affect my workouts. (I put on my workout gear and dragged myself down the stairs yesterday morning only to collapse on the sofa for another half hour of sleep.) But I binged last night on junk food, slept in this morning, squeezed in a mini-workout and I feel great! The needle on the scale even deigned to move a pound and a half. Weekend focus will be revisions.

A few tidbits this week, then some fun stuff:
There's another novel contest on the horizon, the Amazon Breakthough Novel Award .

News at Harlequin: The Harlequin Next line is ending in Feb 08; the Everlasting line will be folded into Superromance some time next year as well, reducing Super by one release per month. (Since they contract as much as a year or so out, I wonder how they handle those contracts in this kind of situation. Or, have they been planning this for some time but kept accepting submissions anyway?)

Chip MacGregor, a literary agent, posted about what is and isn't working in publishing right now. A bit of a slant toward Christian publishing but mostly observation of the industry as a whole. Read it here.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was tagged by Chelle and Vicki to tell you eight random things about myself. This is the third (and fourth) time I've been tagged for this particular meme. (If you really care, you can go back and read the first and second times.)

So this is my last eight random things. Not because I don't like being tagged but because I'm running out of things to tell you.

Here are the rules:

• Players offer eight random habits/facts about themselves.
  
• If you're tagged, write your own blog about your eight things and post these rules.
  
• At the end of your blog post, choose someone to tag (supposed to be eight but however many you can do is fine, no tag police will come get you) - and list their names.

My 8 Random Things

1. I love salty, snacky foods (chips, pretzels, cheese doodles, etc.) I really like mini pretezels dipped in peanut butter.
   
   
2. I've lost 15.5 lbs in the last three months. Actually, I did all but the last 1.5 lbs in the first eight weeks and I've been stuck ever since. But I keep exercising and losing inches.
   
   
3. I love kiwi. (Okay, that's the second food reference, third if you count the whole dieting thing. That's enough!)
   
   
4. I rarely wear any kind of perfume. It makes me nauseous. I prefer scented body lotions (Christmas is coming...)
   
   
5. If I put on one of my husband's suit jackets, it comes to my ankles. I used to dream about being tall. Not all dreams come true.
   
   
6. My all time favorite cookie is the Fig Newton. (I know, another food thing but I didn't eat lunch yet and I'm hungry!)
   
   
7. My favorite hymn is Blessed Assurance. I love contemporary Christian music (gospel, worship, etc.) but folks just don't sing enough hymns anymore.
   
   
8. Speaking of singing, with each of my three sons, I did two things when they were little (under 3): made up a song with their name in it and picked out a hymn especially for them, that I sang to them as I put them to bed at night.
   
   
9. No more food stuff right? How about this one? I stabbed myself with a dressmaking shears when I was in middle school, trying to open a package but I didn't get stitches because I didn't want to tell my mother what a silly thing I'd done.
   
   
10. I'll refrain from the rest of my how-I-hurt-myself-when-I-was-younger-stories (I don't have a lot but the few I have are doozies.) Instead, I'll say that we're entering one of my favorite seasons of the year, the Christmas season. Too bad I'm unlikely to see much snow down here in Central FL.

How did my eight things become ten?

Forget it...

No more random things about myself. Feel free to tag me on other topics though. :SMILE:

And so I can share half my misery, I tag four people: Samara, SuseADoodle, Ananda, and Karen.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

PS -- Stop back on Tuesday when I'll have the first part of my interview with a giant among romance authors, Ms. Francis Ray.

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Skilled with Knives and In Need of Chocolate

Okay, how did you guys let me get away with forgetting to draw a winner in the Camy Tang book contest? Something about the 1st being on a Monday, which is fairly unusual, I think, has thrown me off!

And the winner is ... Samara!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Revision is a completely different animal than writing that first draft!

In the first draft, I get to allow my mind to wander off in any direction it chooses so long as I capture those wanderings on paper. They may not make it into the final version but so what? My word count goes up, my story progresses, and I'm happy.

Not so in revisions.

Now, I've got to make sure my story flows from start to end. Those aimless wanderings? They mock me, flashing as brightly as neon lights as I go back and review what I've done. Then, they die a quick yet painful death.

The pain arises from the realization that no matter how witty, erudite, deep thinking, dramatic, etc. I thought I was during the first draft, I wasn't. It comes from the knowledge that although I may write well, well isn't good enough. I have so much to learn and to synthesize into my writing.

I feel like the guy with the Ginsu knives. (Yes, I'm dating myself but other than TOP CHEF--for which the season finale broadcasts tonight--I don't watch foodie shows. And I hate informercials!)

Anyway, I'm slicing and dicing and carving and pruning...

Tweaking and reshaping and massaging and affirming...

And pretty much hacking away at my first draft.

The good news is it's working. The revised chapters are much better than they appeared in the original version.

The bad news? I'm only on chapter two. That's right, as in one, two... Aarrrrgh!

Anyone have some 60-70% cacao, dark chocolate?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

Black Writers Reunion & Conference 2008

The Black Writers Reunion & Conference will be held in Tampa, FL on June 19-22, 2008. One of my writing goals has been to attend a writing conference in person but finances have always been a bit of a hindrance.

Since this one is being held locally, it looks to be my first in-person conference.

Tia Ross, an editor as well as writer, is the conference chair, and she is working very hard, along with the conference staff, to make sure the 2008 conference will be a success. And, since I rarely know how to participate without jumping in with both feet, I've volunteered to assist with the conference blog.

Like many writing conferences, there will be early-bird pre-conference sessions, a host of workshops, agent and editor pitch sessions, and special events, including a Poetry Slam.

One of the things that distinguishes BWRC is that it offers workshops not only for writers but for people interested in other aspects of the business of publishing. So there's something for everyone, from writers to editors to agents to publishers to even bloggers.

Registration is now open. Early registration at a reduced rate is available through December 16th.

For more information, go to the conference website. And subscribe to the blog. Leading up to the conference, we plan to feature articles about the experiences of past attendees and faculty, as well as posts highlighting next year's faculty, special conference events, and information to help attendees have a tremendous visit to not only the BWRC conference but the Greater Tampa Bay area.

It would be great to see you there! If you've attended a BWRC event in the past, let me know. We'd love to feature you, and promote your latest projects, on the BWRC blog. And of course, we'd love to see you, along with all the other first time attendees, in Tampa next June!

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

I Need An Agent?

I've only started revising my first complete novel, a category romance. Trust me, I do not think I need an agent. Yet.

But I was perusing another author's website. I usually google an author when something has piqued my interest in his/her work. Then I read the author bio, "call story" if (s)he has one, and take a look at the list of published and upcoming books. If I have time, I'll read any writing-related articles offered.

This particular author, Anna DeStephano, who writes for Harlequin Superromance and is known to have a bit of an inspirational flavor to her contemporary romances, has an article entitled, "So, you want to sign with an agent before you sell...". In it, she calls her agent by name and tells why she signed with that particular person. One reason was that the agent had a reputation for getting new authors published and for helping authors to go from category romance to single title. Both are qualities that I would find attractive in an agent. If I were looking...

I've read lots of articles about how to find an agent and what to look for in an agent. Until now, it was all future reference stuff, for Someday-When-I-Have-Something-Someone-Might-Be-Interested-In.

I have something. Or, I will when I finish my revisions. Hmmm....

Even so, I'm not in the market for an agent. Not yet. But I realized I'm closer to being in that market than I've ever been. And it's a great feeling! Wow!

So it occurred to me that, as I continue to digest everything I can about the publishing industry, I might want to be on the lookout for news about agents that suggests a particular agent might be worth taking a look at. In the future. Not now. Don't need any distractions.

So I've started an Agent Wishlist, where I'll note agents who represent authors who write the kinds of books I like to write (or read) and who on the surface seem like they could be a possible fit.

At a later point, after my revisions are done and I've picked myself up off the floor, having suffered a mix of fatigue and elation (early Jan 2008?), I'll pull out my list and give it some thought.

After I start the next book.

If you are agented, how did you find your agent?

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.

FIRST Featured Book: Demon: A Memoir by Tosca Lee

This month I'm joining the F.I.R.S.T. (Fiction in Rather Short Takes) blog alliance which highlights a Christian novel on the first day of each month.

This month's feature is Demon: A Memoir by Tosca Lee.

This is NOT your average Christian fiction. I completely forgot about my wip this weekend, engrossed in this book. When I finish, I'll write a review. But in the mean time, below you'll find a F.I.R.S.T. look.

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is October 1st, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest book's FIRST chapter!

This month's feature author is:

TOSCA LEE

and her book:

Demon: A Memoir

(NavPress, September 1, 2007)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tosca Lee received her BA in English and International Relations from Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. She has also studied at Oxford University.

As a Leadership Consultant, Tosca works with managers and leaders of organizations throughout the Pan-Pacific region, Europe, and the U.S.

Tosca is a former Mrs. Nebraska-America 1996, Mrs. Nebraska-United States 1998 and first runner-up to Mrs. United States and has been lauded nationally for her efforts to fight breast cancer.

In her spare time, Tosca enjoys cooking, studying history and theology, and traveling. She currently resides in Nebraska with her Shar Pei, Attila.

Visit her at her website and her blog.

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter One

It was raining the night he found me. Traffic had slowed on Massachusetts Avenue, and the wan light of streetlamps reflected off the pavement. I was hurrying on without an umbrella, distracted by the chirp of a text message on my phone, trying to shield its illuminated face from rain and the drizzle off storefront awnings. There had been a mistake in my schedule, an appointment that I didn’t recognize and that I had stayed late at the office for — until six forty-five — just in case. Our office manager was texting me from home now to say she had no idea who it was with, that the appointment must have belonged on Phil’s calendar, that she was sorry for the mistake and to have a good night.

I flipped the phone shut, shoved it in my bag. I was worn out by this week already, and it was only Tuesday. The days were getting shorter, the sun setting by six o’clock. It put me on edge, gnawed at me, as though I had better get somewhere warm and cheerful or, barring all else, home before it got any darker. But I was unwilling to face the empty apartment, the dirty dishes and unopened mail on the counter. So I lowered my head against the rain and walked another two blocks past my turnoff until I came to the Bosnian Café. A strap of bells on the door announced my entrance with a ringing slap.

I liked the worn appeal of the Bosnian Café with its olfactory embrace of grilled chicken and gyro meat that enveloped me upon every arrival and clung to me long after leaving. That night, in the premature darkness and rain, the café seemed especially homey with its yellowing countertops, chipped mirrors, and grimy ketchup bottles. Cardboard shamrocks, remnants of a forgotten Saint Patrick’s Day, draped the passthrough into the kitchen, faded around their die-cut edges. A string of Christmas lights lined the front window, every third bulb out. On the wall above the register, a framed photo of the café’s owner with a local pageant queen, and another with a retired Red Sox player, had never been dusted. But no one, including me, seemed to mind.

I stood in the entry waiting for Esad, the owner, to notice me. But it was not the bald man who welcomed me.

It was the dark-haired stranger.

I was surveying the other tables, looking for inspiration — chicken or steak, gyro or salad — when he beckoned. I hesitated, wondering if I should recognize him, this man sitting by himself — but no, I did not know him. He impatiently waved again, and I glanced over my shoulder, but there was no one standing in the entryway but me. And then the man at the table stood up and strode directly to me.

“You’re late,” he said, clasping my shoulder and smiling. He was tall, tanned, with curling hair and a slightly hooked nose that did nothing to detract from his enviable Mediterranean looks. His eyes glittered beneath well-formed brows. His teeth were very white.

“I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong person,” I said. He chuckled.

“Not at all! I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time. An eternity, you might say. Please, come sit down. I took the liberty of ordering for you.” His voice reminded me of fine cognac, the Hors d’Age men drink aboard their yachts as they cut their Cohíbas.

“You have the wrong person. I don’t know you,” I insisted, even as he steered me toward the table. I didn’t want to embarrass him; he already seemed elegantly out of place here in what, for all practical purposes, was a joint. But he would feel like an elegant fool in another minute, especially if his real appointment — interview, date, whatever — walked in and saw him sitting here with me.

“But I know you, Clay.”

I started at the sound of my name, spoken by him with a mixture of familiarity and strange interest, and then I studied him more closely — the squareness of his jaw, the smoothness of his cheek, his utter self-possession — wondering if I had indeed met him before. But I hadn’t, I was certain of it now.

One of Esad’s nephews arrived with a chicken sandwich and two cups of coffee. “Please,” the stranger said, motioning to a vinyl-covered chair. Numbly, stupidly, I sat.

“You work down the street at Brooks and Hanover,” he said when the younger man had gone. He seated himself adjacent to me, his chair angled toward mine. He crossed his legs, plucked invisible lint off the fine wool of his trousers. “You’re an editor.”

Several thoughts went through my head in that moment, none of them savory: first, that this was some finance or insurance rep who — just like the pile of loan offers on my counter at home — was trying to capitalize on my recent divorce. Or, that this was some aggressive literary agent trying to play suave.

Most likely, though, he was a writer.

Every editor has stories to tell: zealous writers pushing manuscripts on them during their kid’s softball game, passing sheaves of italicized print across pews at church, or trying to pick them up in bars, casually mentioning between lubricated flirtations that they write stories on the side and just happen to have a manuscript in the car. I had lost count of the dry cleaners, dental hygienists, and plumbers who, upon hearing what I did for a living, had felt compelled to gift me with their short stories and children’s books, their novels-in-progress and rhyming poetry.

“Look, whoever you are — ”

“Lucian.”

I meant to tell him that I was sure we didn’t publish whatever it was he wanted me to read, that there were industryaccepted ways to get his work to us if we did, that he could visit the website and check out the guidelines. I also meant to get up and walk away, to look for Esad or his nephew and put an order in — to go. But I didn’t say or do any of these things, because what he said next stopped me cold.

“I know you’re searching, Clay. I know you’re wondering what these late, dark nights are for. You have that seasonal disease, that modern ailment, don’t you? SAD, they call it. But it isn’t the disorder — you should know that. It isn’t even your divorce. That’s not what’s bothering you. Not really.”

I was no longer hungry. I pushed away the chicken sandwich
he had ordered and said with quiet warning, “I don’t know who you are, but this isn’t funny.”

He went on as though he hadn’t heard me, saying with what seemed great feeling, “It’s that you don’t know what it’s all for: the hours and days, working on the weekends, the belief that you’ll eventually get caught up and on that ultimate day something will happen. That everything will make sense or you’ll at least have time to figure it out. You’re a good man, Clay, but what has that won you? You’re alone, growing no younger, drifting toward some unknown but inevitable end in this life. And where is the meaning in that?”

I sat very still. I felt exposed, laid open, as though I had emptied my mind onto the table like the contents of a pocket. I could not meet his gaze. Nearby, a couple — both of their heads dripping dirty blond dreadlocks — mulled over menus as the woman dandled an infant on her lap. Beyond them, a thickset woman paged through People, and a young man in scrubs plodded in a sleep-deprived daze through an anemic salad. I wondered if any of them had noticed my uncanny situation, the strange hijacking taking place here. But they were mired in their menus, distractions, and stupor. At the back counter, a student tapped at the keypad of his phone, sending messages into the ether.

“I realize how this feels, and I apologize,” Lucian said, folding long fingers together on his knee. His nails were smooth and neatly manicured. He wore an expensivelooking watch, the second hand of which seemed to hesitate before hiccupping on, as though time had somehow slowed in the sallow light of the diner. “I could have done this differently, but I don’t think I would have had your attention.”

“What are you, some kind of Jehovah’s Witness?” I said. It was the only thing that made sense. His spiel could have hit close to anyone. I felt conned, angry, but most of all embarrassed by my emotional response.

His laughter was abrupt and, I thought, slightly manic. “Oh my,” he said, wiping the corners of his eyes. I pushed back my chair.

His merriment died so suddenly that were it not for the sound of it still echoing in my ears, I might have thought I had imagined it. “I’m going to tell you everything,” he said, leaning toward me so that I could see the tiny furrows around the corners of his mouth, the creases beneath his narrowed eyes. A strange glow emanated from the edge of his irises like the halo of a solar eclipse. “I’m going to tell you my story. I’ve great hope for you, in whom I will create the repository of my tale — my memoir, if you will. I believe it will be of great interest to you. And you’re going to write it down and publish it.”

Now I barked a stunted laugh. “No, I’m not. I don’t care if you’re J. D. Salinger.”

Again he went on as though I’d said nothing. “I understand they’re all the rage these days, memoirs. Publishing houses pay huge sums for the ghostwritten, self-revelatory accounts of celebrities all the time. But trust me; they’ve never acquired a story like mine.”

“Look,” I said, a new edge in my voice, “You’re no celebrity I recognize, and I’m no ghostwriter. So I’m going to get myself some dinner and be nice enough to forget this ever happened.” But as I started to rise, he grabbed me by the arm. His fingers, biting through the sleeve of my coat, were exceedingly strong, unnaturally warm, and far too intimate.

“But you won’t forget,” he said, the strange light of fanaticism in his eyes. His mouth seemed to work independently of their stare, as though it came from another face altogether. “You will recall everything — every word I say. Long after you have forgotten, in fact, the name of this café, the way I summoned you to this table, the first prick of your mortal curiosity about me. Long after you have forgotten, in fact, the most basic details of your life. You will remember, and you will curse or bless this day.”

I felt ill. Something about the way he said mortal . . . In that instant, reality, strung out like an elastic band, snapped. This was no writer.

“Yes. You see,” he said quietly. “You know. We can share now, between us, the secret of what I am.”

And the words came, unbidden, to my mind: Fallen. Dark Spirit.

Demon.

The trembling that began in my stomach threatened to seize up my diaphragm. But then he released me and sat back. “Now. Here is Mr. Esad, wondering why you haven’t touched your sandwich.” And indeed, here came the bald man, coffeepot in hand, smiling at the stranger as though he were more of a regular than I. I stared between them as they made their pleasantries, the sound of their banter at sick odds with what my visceral sense told me was true, what no one else seemed to notice: that I was sitting here with something incomprehensively evil.

When Esad left, Lucian took a thin napkin from the dispenser and set it beside my coffee cup. The gesture struck me as aberrantly mundane. He sighed.

“I feel your trepidation, that sense that you ought to get up and leave immediately. And under normal circumstances, I would say that you are right. But listen to me now when I tell you you’re safe. Be at ease. Here. I’ll lean forward like this, in your human way. When that couple over there sees my little smile, this conspiratorial look, they’ll think we’re sharing a succulent bit of gossip.”

I wasn’t at ease. Not at all. My heart had become a pounding liability in my chest.

“Why?” I managed, wishing I were even now in the emptiness of my apartment, staring at the world through the bleak window of my TV.

Lucian leaned even closer, his hand splayed across the top of the table so that I could see the blue veins along the back of it. His voice dropped below a whisper, but I had no difficulty hearing him. “Because my story is very closely connected to yours. We’re not so different after all, you and I. We both want purpose, meaning, to see the bigger picture. I can give you that.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“On the contrary,” he said, sliding the napkin dispenser away, as though it were a barrier between us. “I know everything about you. Your childhood house on Ridgeview Drive. The tackle box you kept your football cards in. The night you tried to sneak out after homecoming to meet Lindsey Bennett. You broke your wrist climbing out of the window.”

I stared.

“I know of your father’s passing — you were fifteen. About the merlot you miss since giving up drinking, the way you dip your hamburgers in blue cheese dressing — your friend Piotr taught you that in college. That you’ve been telling yourself you ought to get away somewhere — Mexico, perhaps. That you think it’s the seasonal disorder bothering you, though it’s not — ”

“Stop!” I threw up my hands, wanting him to leave at once, equally afraid that he might and that I would be stuck knowing that there was this person — this thing — watching me. Knowing everything.

His voice gentled. “Let me assure you you’re not the only one; I could list myriad facts about anyone. Name someone. How about Sheila?” He smirked. “Let’s just say she didn’t return your essage from home, and her husband thinks she’s working late. Esad? Living in war-torn Bosnia was no small feat. He — ” He cocked his head, and there came now a faint buzzing like an invisible swarm of mosquitoes. I instinctively jerked away.

“What was that?” I demanded, unable to pinpoint where the sound had come from.

“Ah. A concentration camp!” He looked surprised. “I didn’t know that. Did you know that? And as for your ex — ” He tilted his head again.

“No! Please, don’t.” I lowered my head into my hand, dug my fingers into my scalp. Five months after the divorce, the wound still split open at the mere mention of her.

“You see?” he whispered, his head ducked down so that he stared intently up into my face. “I can tell you everything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve made a pastime of studying case histories, of following them through from beginning to end. You fascinate me in the same way that beetles with their uncanny instinct for dung rolling used to fascinate you. I know more about you than your family. Than your ex. Than you know about yourself, I daresay.”

Something — some by-product of fear — rose up within me as anger at last. “If you are what you say, aren’t you here to make some kind of deal for my soul? To tempt me? Why did you order me coffee, then? Why not a glass of merlot or a Crown and Coke?” My voice had risen, but I didn’t care; I felt my anger with relief.

Lucian regarded me calmly. “Please. How trite. Besides, they don’t serve liquor here.” But then his calm fell away, and he was staring — not at me but past me, toward the clock on the wall. “But there,” he pointed. His finger seemed exceedingly long. “See how the hour advances without us!” He leapt to his feet, and I realized with alarm that he meant to leave.

“What — you can’t just go now that you’ve — ”

“I’ve come to you at great risk,” he hissed, the sound sibilant, as though he had whispered in my ear though he stood three feet away. And then he strode to the glass door and pushed out into the darkness, disappearing beyond the reflected interior of the café like a shadow into a mirror. The strap of bells fell against the door with a flat metal clink, and my own stunned reflection stared back.

Rain pelted my eyes, slipped in wet tracks through my hair against my scalp, ran in rivulets down my nape to mingle with the sweat against my back. It had gotten colder, almost freezing, but I was sweating inside the sodden collar of my shirt as I hurried down Norfolk, my bag slapping against my hip, my legs cramped and wooden, nightmare slow.

The abrupt warmth inside my apartment building threatened to suffocate me as I stumbled up the stairs. My ears pintingled to painful life as I fumbled with my keys. Inside my apartment at last, I fell back against the door, head throbbing and lungs heaving in the still air. I stayed like that, my coat dripping onto the carpet, for several long moments. Then a mad whim struck me.

With numb fingers, I retrieved the laptop from my bag and set it up on the kitchen table. With my coat still on, I dropped down onto a wooden chair, staring at the screen as it yawned to life. I logged into the company server, opened my calendar.

There — my six-thirty appointment. It was simply noted: L.

Sample from Demon / ISBN 1-60006-123-0
Copyright © 2006 NavPress Publishing.
All rights reserved.
To order copies of this resource, come back to www.navpress.com.

Peace & Blessings,
Patricia

Stay focused. Be deliberate. Believe.