REMAIN CALM . . . ALL IS WELL!!!

Ecstatic?? YUP! Petrified?? YOU BET!! About ready to pee my pants?? THAT'S AN UNDERSTATEMENT!!!  This is me when I found out that my BLOG TOUR for PHOENIX: THE RISING is in the works:

Pic taken out so I can avoid possible litigation!

(YUM--Love me some Bacon)

I am TOTALLY pumped and honored that the AMAZING blogs by the Girls In The Stacks, My Guilty Obsession, and Kate's Tales of Books and Bands (so far) have welcomed me with open arms. 

Sounds like I'll be doing some guest posts, a playlist, giveaways and **whispering in sweat-inducing anticipation** A PODCAST **gulp**. That last one made me rush to previous podcasts by my girlies to try and figure out what they'll be asking me. I found out two things: 1) There is no generic list of questions because they are really interested in YOU and YOUR story, and 2) there is a LOT of giggling that goes on, which is good, cuz I'm gonna giggle like a school girl on her first date!  

As soon as I know the names of the other blogs on the tour and all the dates are set in stone (this begins 1-12-13), I will SHOUT IT FROM THE MOUNTAINTOP! If you'd like to be part of the tour, just let me know, or contact Emma at evernightteen.com. We'd love to put you on the schedule!

Meanwhile, I will have a little Irish Mist and REMAIN CALM... :)

I'll Take Manhattan...Another SNEAK PEEK!

I've been working on my next WIP--I'LL TAKE MANHATTAN--one of my Four Sisters novels--and decided to rewrite the whole thing in first-person-present POV. I've written in first person before, but choosing to go present-tense is a big, risky step for me. New authors can sometimes slaughter present-tense and make it extremely uncomfortable and unenjoyable for the reader, but I'm hoping I can really sink my teeth into the characters and their internal conflict by going present-tense. I at least have to give it a try. Anyhoo, here are the first 750 words or so of I'LL TAKE MANHATTAN. Please let me know what you think...

“Wish me luck, George.” My shoes hit the pavement of 15 Central Park West, and I know this is it. I tug at the knot of my Lorenzo Cana charcoal silk. Her favorite. At least that’s what she says every time I wear the damn thing. Today it feels like a noose around my neck. Choking me. Taunting me to turn and run while I have a chance. I can broker multi-million dollar deals, butt heads with Trump and his cronies, but this one little deed, the utterance of four simple words, has me sweating like Fat Bastard in a Santa suit. Is it worth it? Damn straight it’s worth it. She’s worth it.

George closes the door behind me as only George can do. Noiselessly.

“Ain’t no such thing as luck, Mr. Jamison. Either the woman loves you, or she doesn’t.”

My hand slips over the obscenely expensive lump in my jacket pocket for the millionth time that morning, seeking some type of palpable reassurance of the decision I’ve made. Pffft.  Of course she loves me. Who wouldn’t? I’m Collin Edward Jamison III. Heir to the largest real estate development firm in New York City. Manhattan’s Most Eligible Bachelor...

George raises an eyebrow as he waits for my reply. He’s expecting me to say something like that. Something cocky and self-absorbed. But George knows as well as I do that Annette Bradshaw is the love of my life. This time, he’ll have to settle for the truth instead of a smart-ass answer.

“She loves me.”

Silence.

Shit. Now what?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait? In case she chases you off with her briefcase?” George winks and lets loose a throaty James Earl Jones chuckle, the kind that seems to start in his toes before working its way up to his deep baritone vocal cords. I can’t help but smile.

“I don’t plan on needing your services until later in the day, George.” I shoot him my own wink. “Much later. Miss Bradshaw and I will have a bit of .... celebrating to do.” I pat the lump one more time, then head for the door to Annette’s building.

“Wait!” 

George’s booming voice stops me in my tracks, the same way it did when I was eight years old and he caught me pissing in my mother’s rose bushes. I turn, expecting George to give me one more tidbit of unsolicited fatherly advice, or at least a May the Force be with you. After all, it isn’t every day that a man asks a woman to marry him, and George’s advice was the closest thing I’d be getting to anything fatherly. Instead, I find him holding out a brown paper bag.

“You forgot your bagels ... and I think you’re gonna need your strength, Mr. Jamison. Celebrating takes a lot of energy.” George guffaws at his own joke and shoves the bag at my chest, but I block the assault before it crushes the Lorenzo Cana. Her favorite.  Those two words follow on the tail of “Lorenzo Cana” as automatically as the succulent memory of her wearing nothing but that charcoal silk and an I’m gonna make you beg for mercy look in her chocolate brown eyes the day she gave it to me.  The thought elicits a delicious but inconvenient tug in my groin. At least I don’t feel like I’m choking anymore.

“Thanks, old man.”

“Old? What do you mean, old, you little pipsqueak?” George puffs his chest out like a rooster in a henhouse. “I’ve done more celebrating on a daily basis for the last thirty years than you’ll do in the next sixty.” George struts around the Mercedes to the driver’s door. “As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna head on home and do some celebrating myself, since you won’t be needing my services for the day.”  

I chuckle. “You do that, George.”

George slides into the driver’s seat and, for the first time in recorded history, slams the door of his beloved Mercedes. Holy shit! Seems I ruffled the old man’s feathers.

I turn and face the nineteen-story tower as George drives away, take a deep breath to calm my nerves, pat the lump in my pocket one more time, and smile.

She loves me.

CHARADE by Nyrae Dawn--A Review

I can't help myself ... I just have to review CHARADE by Nyrae Dawn! That's how much I love it!

Nyrae Dawn has made me fall in love with contemporary romance all over again, first, with her YA hit--What A Boy Wants, and now with her New Adult masterpiece--Charade--a beautiful, heart-wrenching love story of two souls who need each other more than each ever want to admit.

Colt and Cheyenne swept me away in their little charade and it wasn't just the romance that got me, but their stories--the relationship each of them have with their mothers--the lives each have had to endure and overcome. I could feel the hopelessness, the choking fingers of panic around Cheyenne's neck I've experienced so many times in my own life, and the relief and true passion they found in each others' arms.

Charade is a novel that will make you laugh, cry, and order pizza for your family so you can finish reading it. It deserves nothing less than five stars!

Here's her cover (YUM!!) and a blurb about the story!

Nineteen-year-old Cheyenne tries to portray the perfect life to mask the memories of her past. Walking in on her boyfriend with another woman her freshman year in college threatens that picture of perfection. 

Twenty-one-year-old Colt never wanted college and never expected to amount to anything, but when his mom's dying wish is for him to get his degree, he has no choice but to pretend it's what he wants too. 

Cheyenne needs a fake boyfriend to get back at her ex and Colt needs cash to take care of his mom, so they strike a deal that helps them both. But what if Cheyenne’s past isn’t what she thought? Soon they’re trading one charade for another—losing themselves in each other to forget about their pain. The more they play their game, the more it becomes the only thing they have that feels real.

Both Cheyenne and Colt know life is never easy, but neither of them expect the tragedy that threatens to end their charade and rip them apart forever.

Blog Tours, Bookmarks, and Bears...OH MY!

My journey into publishing continues, and just like Dorothy and her friends as they entered The Haunted Forest in the Land of Oz, I'm entering into a world I haven't experienced before, full of the unknown. It's just a wee bit scary, but thrilling at the same time!

I just turned in what I hope are my last edits, and on the heels of that comes the marketing plan. I had so many questions for my marketing manager...How do I set up a blog tour? Should I have a separate website and blog? Should I pass out bookmarks? How can I get some pre-release reviews? How can you have a book signing or something similar when your novel is released in e-format and POD only? Without going into detail on all of these questions, the one answer I was ecstatic to hear is that Evernight Teen will set up a blog tour for me! Considering that I don't know the first thing about blog tours, this is fantastic news! I had already given them a list of YA bloggers who added PHOENIX: THE RISING to their to-read list on Goodreads (you can add it, too), so they'll be adding them to their list of blogs they'll be contacting. I can't wait!

With all this marketing stuff swimming around in my head, I'm really curious...
Author friends--What are your top marketing strategies for promoting your work? How do you utilize Facebook, Twitter, Blogger, Pinterest, etc.? I would be eternally grateful for any advice you can give this newbie!
Non-author friends--What type of promotional material do you like to see/what influences you to read a book? Do you ever watch book trailers? Do you read reviews before you buy a book? Are you more likely to order a book in e-format or in print? Would you ever attend a book signing?  I really value your input, so PLEASE leave a comment and let me know what you're thinking!

(BTW--Have you seen the trailer for OZ: THE GREAT AND POWERFUL? It looks absolutely fantabulous! Have a peek HERE! )

Paradise by the Dashboard Light....

No, I'm not sitting in my car with my cover model :) ... but I am sitting in front of the warm glow of my monitor in a darkened office, praying that no one knocks on the door to disturb my mid-day me-time. I'm sitting here in the dark because I want to tell you about last night...

Last night, I did something I never thought I'd be able to do...I completed my first round of edits for my publisher. Without screaming. Without crying. Without busting out a neglected bottle of Irish Mist from my top cupboard. You see, editing is a terrifying, gut-wrenching, amazingly exhilarating experience. I had no idea it would be like this!

When I first got my edits, I was almost afraid to open my email. What would she say? Would she want me to rewrite the whole thing? Would she hate it? Would she think I'm a complete idiot?  Taking a deep breath, I hit download, and the whole, red mess came popping up. Actually, it wasn't a red mess. It was more... magenta. And it wasn't a mess. As a matter of fact, besides letting me know, repeatedly, that The Bird (as in flipping the bird) didn't need to be capitalized, the first chapter was left virtually untouched, which doesn't surprise me, since that's the chapter most authors pour 90% of their blood, sweat, and tears into. After that, the little magenta lights lit up my text sporadically, occasionally clustering in areas, indicating I may have been writing in my sleep which resulted in an overuse of commas, an occasional semi-colon, and even one section of head-hopping. These, thank goodness, were the easy fixes.

The challenge came with three panic-inducing comments. Marie, my editor, asked me to develop relationships and emotions in three main areas. At first I thought there was no way I was going to be able to do this. There was a reason I wrote it the way I did, and I thought it was near-perfect. (Authors tend to be very territorial about their babies, and Phoenix was definitely my baby.) But, knowing Marie was hired as an editor for a reason, I dug right down to the bottom of my soul (oh, yeah) and decided to look at my words through the eyes of my readers. And I knew. Marie, my now all-wise editor, was right.

So, last night I put the finishing touches on my first round of edits, reread them for the zillionth time, and I have to say I am forever grateful that Marie challenged me to stretch myself and my characters. I think the result is outstanding! I'm going to languish in that feeling for a while--at least until the next round of edits...

THERE IT IS!!!

OMG! I just checked out Evernight Teen and guess whose cover is featured on their homepage???  What a fantastic way to end the night! I just had to hop on here and share my good news before I head off to la-la land. Sweet dreams, everyone!

COVER REVEAL!!! Phoenix: The Rising

**loosening collar**
  

**clearing throat** 

And now. . .
as promised . . .
the COVER . . .

PUBLISHING DATE: JANUARY 11, 2013

MUST . . . 

REMEMBER . . . 

HOW. . . 

TO . . . 

BREATHE . . .

Seriously, though, it took my breath away the first time I saw it! Evernight Teen caught all the elements I requested, and then some! I hope you love it as much as I do!

PHOENIX: THE RISING now has its own Goodreads Page and I would love it if you'd stop in for a visit and mark it as a To-Read! I also have a Goodreads Author's Page, if you'd care to take a look!

And please, PLEASE, know that I would love it if you'd become a member and follow this blog! It only takes a moment to sign up and I can promise you updates on Phoenix, future novels, and will start posting reviews of books by my awesome writerly-type friends--ala Nyrae Dawn, Kelley Vitollo, Alex Adams, Colleen Oakes, and Stephanie Lawton, to name a few!

Thanks so much for taking the time to be part of my COVER REVEAL!!

A SNEAK PEEK!!!

My cover for PHOENIX: THE RISING has finally arrived, and it's better than I ever dreamed it could be! Seeing the vision of my hero come alive before my eyes...seeing the title emblazoned across the image... seeing MY NAME in bold type across the bottom has been simply overwhelming! I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time when I first opened the email from my publisher. It's hard to believe this is really happening!

To give you a good idea of what PHOENIX: THE RISING  is all about, here's the jacket blurb:

Every 300 years, the immortal Phoenix returns to Mono Lake to be reborn--but this time it didn't return alone. The Nephilim are back in force, trying to keep it from being reborn so one of them can claim its immortality. But first they have to figure out who the Phoenix is--and any red-haired, green-eyed, seventeen-year-old in the area is fair game. And so, the killing begins...

Julie Mason doesn't believe all this legend crap until she falls for Eli Sullivan, whose hallucination-inducing kiss not only saves her, but makes her the Nephilim’s prime target. But, it's worth the risk. Her death is inevitable...not even Eli can prevent it. All she has to do is keep the Nephilim off Eli’s trail until The Rising. Once Eli is reborn and forgets his past life, Julie’s life is over, whether she’s dead or not. At least that's what she thinks...

PHOENIX: THE RISING  is aimed at the upper young adult (high school-aged), new adult (college-aged), and adult audience. It's most definitely not for younger readers. Although I'd love to share the entire cover with you, right now you'll have to settle for a SNEAK PEEK! Keep checking back for the total COVER REVEAL which will be happening soon. I promise!

And now, for a peek at my banner...I hope you love it as much as I do!

 COMING JANUARY 11, 2013 FROM EVERNIGHT TEEN !

SQUEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

WOW! I can't believe I finally get to say it, but here goes ... I'm being published!!! PHOENIX: THE RISING (yes, I changed the title again, but an author gets to do that!) is set to be one of the launching titles for Evernight Teen, with a tentative release date of January 2013.  Until then, you can check out my author's bio page at http://www.evernightteen.com/bette-maybee/ .
BUT WAIT ... THERE'S MORE!
If you're a YA author, Evernight Teen has a CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS going on right now. Head on over to  http://www.evernightteen.com/submissions/ and get those manuscripts sent in!

Elvis has left the building!!!

It was a long time coming, but I'm happy to announce that I have finally finished writing MONO LAKE. Yes, you read correctly. I've changed the title. Authors get to do that. :) I actually finished almost two weeks ago, but spent the last two weeks editing and writing a synopsis, which (THANK GOD!) I finally finished last night. Writing a synopsis is almost physically painful, since you have to summarize everything from your story in two pages.

In celebration, I'm going to post one final excerpt. This is a scene from the first quarter of the book where Julie finds out her best friend, Charsey, isn't the ditz she thinks she is.

“Charsey Winters. You’re looking delicious, as usual.”

Julie saw Kas’ eyes drift down to Charsey’s cleavage, which was billowing over her tube top. Charsey’s hand snaked up to Kas’ face. She pulled him to her and gave him a full-on kiss, pressing her chest up against his. Julie could swear she saw an exchange of tongues before Kas pulled away from her. Julie cleared her throat and looked up at Kas.

“Kas, could you get me a beer?”

Kas tore his eyes from Charsey’s cleavage.

“Sure, babe. Be right back.”

Julie had no intention of drinking. She just wanted to get Kas away from her for a few minutes so she could talk to Charsey.

“Where’s Eli? I figured you’d be here with him.”

Charsey’s eyes flashed. “Well, you figured wrong. I decided Eli isn’t my type.” Her eyes trailed over to Kas. “Now Kas, on the other hand ...” Julie couldn’t care less if Charsey was interested in Kas. As a matter of fact, she would gladly turn him over to her. But right now, she wanted to know what was going on with her ditzy friend. She grabbed Charsey by the arm and dragged her down the hallway. Finding an empty bathroom, she pulled her in and locked the door behind her.

“Are you drunk, Charse?”

Charsey pulled out a tube of strawberry lip-gloss from her pocket, turned to the mirror and applied a double layer, smacking her lips together in approval.

“No.” She put the tube back in her pocket, then leaned forward and kissed the mirror, leaving a perfect imprint of her lips. “I’m not drunk, sweetie. I am in total control.”

“Then why are you acting like this?  Like a--”

Charsey finished her sentence, “Ditz-extraordinaire?”

She turned back towards Julie and cocked her head. “That is what you think of me, isn’t it Julie?”

Julie lowered her eyes, ashamed that Charsey knew exactly what she thought of her.

“Ummm ... well, yes, sometimes.” 

She looked back up to see Charsey smiling.

“I’m a pretty good actress, aren’t I?” Charsey lifted an eyebrow. “Boys love the ditz, Julie. Well, most of them, anyways. Plus, it keeps me out of your precious AP classes. Those kindergarten courses I qualified for are a breeze, and that’s how I like it.”  She unlocked the door and pulled on it. “You know what they say, Jules, ‘all work and no play makes Charse a dull girl’. A paraphrase of a very old proverb.”

Charsey hesitated, closed the door again, and walked back to a now baffled Julie.

“I like the second part of the proverb better, ‘all play and no work makes Charse a mere toy.’” She leaned in and whispered directly into Julie’s ear, “I like being a toy, Jules. I like it very much.” 

Julie swallowed and stood frozen to her spot as Charsey breezed out the door, humming.

Who the hell was that?

Whatever Lucy wants...Lucy gets! (or does she??)

Just hit the 61K mark on Phoenix, and I'm so close to the end, I can taste it! Here's my latest snippet. Enjoy!

     Lucy waited several minutes until she heard slow, steady breathing behind her.  The feel of Eli's warm breath on her neck just about drove her crazy with desire, but she knew she had to move slowly or she could really screw things up.  Patience, and just a few small movements brought her in full contact with the only body she had ever yearned for, and, as if it were scripted, his arm slid over her, pulling her close.  The warmth of his form saturated hers, eliciting a soft moan from deep within her.  She expected her body to scream for him to take her, but instead, a rush of contentment washed over her, and all it wanted to do was sleep.  She felt something she'd never felt before.  Safe.  Safe in his arms.  Lucy couldn't help but giggle.  God, I must really be tired! 

Just Keep Writing...Just Keep Writing...

Just hit the 42K mark on PHOENIX, and made some headway on I'LL TAKE MANHATTAN! It feels so good to get back into my characters! My favorite snippet of the day from PHOENIX:   
     Julie lay silently, her skin swimming in a pale blue light, as if death had visited her and left its mark.  If it weren't for her slow, shallow breathing, Eli would have sworn she had died.
     "Julie." The name was just a whisper on his lips, but it was enough. Her eyelids fluttered and opened.
     "Eli? Are you here?"

What Inspires Me...THE LEGEND

One question I hear whenever someone finds out I write is, "What inspires you?" That's a tricky question. It could be anything! A news story. A picture. A song title. My life. A love letter tucked away in my undies drawer for thirty-three years.

In the case of PHOENIX, I set out wanting to write a young adult paranormal romantic suspense. I wanted my hero to be a Phoenix in human form--one with the power of healing and immortality. I wanted a cool setting--just outside of Yosemite in California, and I wanted to combine it with a Native American legend from that area. So, I began my research into Native American folklore and stumbled upon The Lady and the Giant--a Paiute legend. The moment I saw "Giant", my mind immediately went to Genesis 6:4, where Nephelim (offspring of human women and angels) are introduced. I knew I had my nemesis, and PHOENIX: The Gathering was born.

Melding those three legends, I wrote what started off as my prologue, basing my entire novel on this. Eventually, the prologue turned into a large section of my fourth chapter. I'm now nearing 36,000 words and figure I have about another 30,000 to go.

Curious? If you'd like a peek at my original prologue, click HERE .

I'm also curious. If a book has a prologue, do you take the time to read it? The concensus among authors is that people DON'T like prologues. I happen to enjoy reading them. Do you?

The Muse is Back! An Excerpt from PHOENIX...

Well, as I said in my last post, THE MUSE IS BACK! I've had a great time working on PHOENIX, a YA paranormal romantic suspense, and would like to share an excerpt from a recent chapter.

PHOENIX: THE GATHERING

Six miles outside of Bishop, Dan Penemue pulled into a deserted rest stop. "Make it fast. We only have a couple hours before sunrise. All Hell's gonna break loose as soon as they discover the mess we left.  I wanna be sleeping in my own bed with my alibi when they do."

Lucy staggered over to the restroom, pulled the string to the overhead lightbulb, and locked the door. She fought the urge to retch as she yanked the blood-soaked hoodie over her head and threw it by the stool. Dan would get rid of it later with his own. Turning on the faucet, she plunged her hands into the stream of icy water, and watched as the color changed. A spiral of crimson swirled around the drain, and eventually faded back to plain water as she washed the last bit of the girl's blood from her hands.

My first kill, she thought bitterly. Dan considered it an honor, even if it was just taking care of a "loose end". Killing a suspected Fire-Child was one thing, but this girl was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. An innocent.  Even knowing that, it amazed her at how easily she did it. Her hand trembled only slightly. All she could think of as she slid that blade across the girl's throat was her birthright. Immortality.

FLUTTER: an excerpt from my WIP--THE HOUSE ON CARROLL STREET

So...I've been trying to rev myself up for the last few months to write. I think my muse has been vacationing somewhere warm, and tropical, and secluded. She sure as heck hasn't been anywhere near Main Street in Slater, Iowa!  I believe, however, that she may be on her way back...at least I'm hoping she is! She popped in for a visit the other day, which resulted in me making some headway on PHOENIX, after having been stuck at a crossroads all winter. It's a pivotal moment in the story where I'm introducing a new character, and I think I FINALLY figured out how to weave it all together.

In celebration of my muse's homecoming, I'm going to share an excerpt from THE HOUSE ON CARROLL STREET.  I wrote this particular piece quite awhile ago. I hope you enjoy it! (warning--it's a darker piece and some may find it disturbing)

THE HOUSE ON CARROLL STREET

“Flutter”

I could hear them. Little voices. Little voices coming from the trashcan by the door of my brother’s bedroom closet. Little voices whispering so rapidly, so quietly, I couldn’t quite understand what they were saying.

Mom told me the last time I heard the voices that it was just my imagination. I imagined a lot of things at night. Shadows turned into spiders sliding across the wall. Thomas's fat, six-toed paws padding across the linoleum turned into the feet of wicked little gnomes running under my bed. Yes, I knew it was just my imagination, but knowing that didn't make any difference. The fear was too real--and it won. Always. I pulled the covers over my head, and squeezed my legs together tighter, praying that the feeling would pass--praying that I wouldn’t have to walk by that trashcan filled with those scary little people and their scary little voices.

I pissed myself only once before. It happened four years earlier in first grade when Tanya McDonald decided to take a nap in the class bathroom. I didn’t know I could ask Miss Mills to use the one in the hall--so I sat at my desk, crossed my legs, and waited. I waited until the butterfly wings began tickling the back of my throat. By the time I stood, it was too late. Hot pee raced down the inside of my pumpkin-colored cable tights and flooded my new, white, patent-leather Mary Janes. Across the hall, Billy Maynard leaned across his desk and watched me through the open doors with those big, black-rimmed glasses magnifying his chocolate brown eyes. I loved Billy--but he saw me. He saw me piss myself.

And now, the butterflies were back--but, so were the voices.

“Mommy?”

Mom’s warm body lay motionless behind mine, holding me close. On the other side of her was my sister, Ann, who was two years older than me. A second bed held my younger brother, Mark, and two of my older brothers, Steven and Matt.

“Mommy?”

“What is it, Jaynie?”

Flutter.

“I have to pee.”

Mom pulled the covers down and we climbed out of bed. I buried my face in the lavender warmth of her flannel nightgown and wrapped my arms around her hips as she walked me across the frigid linoleum floor, past the trashcan full of those scary little people with those scary little voices, to the door of the closet. She opened it, grabbed a flashlight off a side shelf, turned it on, and aimed it at the floor. Two startled cockroaches scuttled out of the light, disappearing into the darkness.

“There you go, honey,” she whispered. “Try to do it quietly.”

The light reflected off the metallic sides of the make-shift toilet.

You see, this is what happens when my drunken father passes out at the bottom of the stairwell. I have to piss in a coffee can.

Romance at Random e-book Giveaway!

Happy Holidays to everyone - Romance At Random is celebrating their Loveswept line with a random e-book Giveaway to 25 winners plus an opportunity to win one Grand Prize from www.romanceatrandom.com. Enter here to be included in the FREE random e-book drawing (25 winners will pick up their FREE book from Net Galley) and then stop on by www.romanceatrandom.com and comment to enter the drawing to be the ''ONE”Grand Prize winner, to win a selection of great books! Good Luck & Happy Holidays to all!

INCREASE your chances to win by visiting all of the participating 'Loveswept - Holiday Hop' sites! Winners will be contacted after 1/10/12.

Enter Here!

 http://www.romanceatrandom.com/meet-greet-holiday-hop-25-winners-one-grand-prize-winner/

Hello? Hello? (tap-tap) Is this thing on??

Wow! Talk about taking a hiatus from blogging...my apologies! And now, for the rest of the story...

New Year's Eve 2010, I finally got the news. The second agent loved my story and wanted to run my manuscript by her boss! Considering that my original query hadn't cut the mustard with the head of the agency the year prior (it really was horrendous!), I was a basketcase! Plus, it was the New Year, and I'd have to wait a few days. So, I waited. And waited.

Within a few days, school started back up. My hopes were growing dim. I had visions of the agency head taking one look at my ms and laughing his head off at the thought of ME ever becoming a published author. I even dreamt I was Ralphie from A Christmas Story, getting my Christmas Theme back from Miss Shields at Warren G. Harding Elementary School with a BIG FAT C+ on it and Miss Shields cackling at me dressed in a witch costume. I had a horrible feeling this was going to end badly. However, by this time, I had a contract in hand from the first agent. Knowing that I already had an agent offer kept me sane...somewhat.

January 6, 2011 at 11:28 a.m., just after giving my seventh graders the dreaded Muscle Quiz, an e-mail popped up. I read it quickly, and COULD NOT believe what I was reading. I was being offered representation by the second agency, with the agency head's blessing! My squeal of joy had to be explained to a group of stunned 7th graders, who quickly began applauding my good fortune, and by the next day I was signing my name on the dotted line. I was now, officially, a client of The Ethan Ellenberg Literary Agency!

That, my dear friends, was only the beginning. I had to gracefully inform the first agent of my decision. That was truly hard. I knew she had a passion for my story and would do everything she could to try to sell it. She was, of course, disappointed in my decision. Then, I had to get to work. Months of editing, getting my ms ready for submission, and finally constructing a list of first-round editors who would be receiving my ms had to take place.  I'm still in the midst of receiving responses from the editors and hoping we can make a list of second-round editors, if needed.

Will THE TIP TOP CAFE' ever be picked up? Maybe. Maybe not. Meanwhile, I continue to write. And worry. And dream...from my own little corner, in my own little chair. That's the best part of all!

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...

Some of you have been waiting an EXCRUCIATINGLY long time to find out how I finally landed THE ELUSIVE AGENT--AGENT--AGENT (Is there an echo in here???)  Here it is.

After taking a five-month hiatus from querying, I finally worked up enough nerve to start the process again. But this time, I was going to go in armed and ready for battle, and, as you have already been informed, I lurve me some internet research. So, I hit the interwebs (yes, I said it) once again. I typed in seven simple words--how to write a great query letter--and hit the "enter" button.  What popped up was exactly what I had been looking for.  This.

I had no idea who Noah Lukeman was, so I googled him, of course, and found out that he is an agent to best-selling authors and the head of his own agency. Best of all, he has a really good reputation. The more I read of his simple ideas on how to write a great query letter, the more they made sense. So, I followed his advice. I started off with what I hoped would be a great hook, cut the synopsis down to four (he suggested three) tight sentences, listed the pertinent information (genre, word count, etc.), and got rid of the names of the characters. This last bit of advice really made sense to me. You know how a person associates certain things with certain names, ie: THAT was my ex's name--I HATE that name? Why wouldn't certain names conjure up some weird thoughts in the minds of agents, too? I didn't want that, so I dumped them.  I then posted my query on a forum to get some feedback. After one particular person who is a YA writer agented by Writer's House (they rep Stephenie Meyer--think TWILIGHT-- and the estate of VC Andrews, among others) gave me the thumb's up, I sent out a test batch.  BINGO.

One of my first responses? Seriously…this is the best query…ever! With that was a request for the first three chapters, and a thank you for making my day!   I must admit, the thought flashed through my brain that the woman was pulling my chain, but when I reread the e-mail for the fortieth time, it finally dawned on me that she wouldn't have requested chapters if she didn't really like it. I allowed myself to have a little squeal of delight and share my good news with loved ones. A few days later, she requested a full. From query to three chapters to full. This was a good sign. A VERY good sign. Soon, a few other requests for full manuscripts came in, and I happily e-mailed them off.  Then the waiting began.

After gnawing my fingernails down to useless stubs over the next six weeks, I got THE e-mail. My query fan agent wanted to arrange a time to talk to me. ME. About my story. Over the phone. GULP. My mind flashed to some posts I had read from a woman who had just been offered representation by this same agent, and then the post made by her husband a few weeks later letting the rest of us know that his wife had an aneurysm and died suddenly.  RIGHT AFTER GETTING AN AGENT. How ironic. I immediately went to my favorite forum to get advice, AND to calm my fears. Do agents call to let you down easy? Should I ask questions? How do you prevent hyperventilation? Will I have a heart attack and die while talking to her? What if I say something stupid? If she offers, what do I do about the outstanding manuscripts?

The day finally came. I got out all my notes, my questions I’d ask, had my laptop queued to my manuscript, made sure my cell phone was charged, laid everything out on the dining room table, and I sat, and waited, trying not to hyperventilate. Ten minutes after the time she was supposed to call, I was beginning to think it wasn’t going to happen. Then...it did. I swallowed and answered on the second ring. An hour and a half later, after she went over everything she loved about my story, she offered representation. She told me to take my time deciding, and guided me on what to do with the other agents who had my manuscript. She was very clear that this was a major decision that could have a profound effect on my future, and that I needed to weigh all the options. I, of course, wanted to scream, YES!!, but I didn’t. I thanked her, told her I’d get back to her in a couple of weeks, and hung up.

After screaming and doing cartwheels into the next room (mental cartwheels, mind you) and dancing around with my family, I called my sisters, and my mom, and my best buddy, Jan. I got on facebook and announced it to the world. I got on my favorite forum and announced it to my writing buddies. Then, I let the other agents who had my full manuscript know I had an offer. Within a few hours, I got an e-mail from an agency I had been salivating over for the last year. I had sent it to them, knowing it was a long-shot. When I first began my querying adventure, I queried the owner of this particular agency with my original, horrendous query letter, and didn’t hear back from him. It stated very plainly on their site that they only respond to queries they’re interested in. I didn’t blame him for passing. I wouldn’t have requested a manuscript from that letter, either. But now, there was a new agent in the game. And she was interested. VERY interested. She asked for a few extra days to read it. I couldn’t believe it! Of course I’d give her some time to read it. My fingers trembled as I wrote back to her.

Was I about to receive a second offer of representation?

THE QUEST FOR THE ELUSIVE AGENT

Ummm…where was I? Oh, yes. Now I remember. Before we were so rudely interrupted by my little ghostly hallucinations (which turned out to be my husband falling asleep with his finger on the TV remote), I was telling you about my publishing adventure…

After finishing my first story and editing the tar out of it, I began the QUEST FOR THE ELUSIVE AGENT. My first move was to buy a used copy of Wr!ter’s M@rket from H@lf Pr!ce Books. It lists publishers, literary agencies and agents, and gives advice on how to get published. It also had a free trial for the online version of the book. I spent hours gleaning a list of agents who took my genre, and small publishers who accepted non-agented submissions. Once I had my list complete (or thought I did), I read up on how to write a query letter. I thought I had this thing whipped. I tried to cram as much information possible onto one page. Big mistake. You know the acronym KISS? (keep it simple, stupid?) This goes for querying, too. I found out the hard way.

When the first request for my manuscript from a small publisher rolled in about three weeks into querying, I thought I hit the motherload!  It took everything in me to keep from doing cartwheels down the middle school hallway. I felt like Sally Field getting her first Oscar. They like me! They really, really like me! Well, my Oscar moment lasted about two days. It took me that long to realize I’d been treated to a genu-ine P.T Barnum snozwangle. (Don’t bother looking it up—there is no definition). In other words, I’d been duped. Sucker-punched. After some investigating (remember, I really, REALLY like to stalk, er, I mean research things on the internet), I realized that I was dealing with a vanity  publisher. A vanity publisher will publish just about anything, and in most cases, requires the author to buy dozens of copies. After speaking to several published authors, I finally got it through my head that money should always flow TO the author. (Thank you, YOG!)  I also found out from the YOG-ites that the way to be considered by big publishing houses is by getting an agent. Most won’t accept unagented authors. So, after getting burned a couple of times, I took their Yoggy advice.

I reworked my query even more, shortened it a bit, and sent it out to a new batch of agents. Then I waited. And prayed. And sacrificed small farm animals . . . Just as I eyed my husband’s parakeet (Would he notice that Bird was missing? How bad do burnt feathers smell? I could tell him that the dog ate another one . . .)  the requests started trickling in. From legitimate agents. Who repped best-selling authors. They like me!!!  Long story short, they eventually passed, but invited me to submit future work. The responses definitely pumped my ego, but I’d been querying for almost five months, had a few dozen rejections under my belt, plus, it was the Christmas season, and I was exhausted. So, I took a break and joined the real world. Temporarily.

Five months later, I sat down at my laptop and discovered the map that would lead me to THE ELUSIVE AGENT . . .

things that go BUMP in the night...

So, yesterday, I woke up around 4:30, tried to look at my alarm clock, and it wasn't there. I found it on the floor between the nightstand and bed. It was totally stuck down there with the cords stuck under the enclosed bottom of the table like they'd been pulled under. After I loosened it, I pulled it up and set it on the nightstand. The lights on it indicated that it now had two alarms set on it (I had set one at 6:45), and even the little button on the side that you need to push to set a second alarm had been moved. I found out later from Tim that the channel had also been moved from my regular one to some Omaha station. Neither of us have any recollection of waking or doing any of this in our sleep.

At 7:20, I headed to work. Got to the edge of town and I thought I noticed smoke or steam coming from under the hood. Drove for another five miles, and when I stopped, it was really coming out, so I pulled into a church parking lot and took a look. I'm thinking a waterhose sprung a leak. The top of the engine had a pool of water on it, and there was a pool of it under the van. Tim had to come and get me and my brother sent a tow truck to haul it back to his shop up in Ames. Diagnosis: the hose system above the engine had pretty much been shredded. Tim said he found a large pool of water in the driveway where I had it parked. This was right outside my bedroom window which is right by my side of the bed.

Cut to this morning, AGAIN at 4:30. The dogs started whining. Tim, being the gentleman that he is, got up and let the dogs out to go potty, let them back in, then he fell asleep on the couch. I, of course, wake up when he gets up, so I lay there listening to him snore. About a half hour later I'm facing his side of the bed, and I hear a voice coming from right behind me. It's speaking in a monotone, almost electronic type voice like a voice synthesizer, and it's in some unrecognizable language. It lasted for less than five seconds, but it got my heart pumping and I was scared to death. My back was about three feet from the wall (where that darn window is open an inch), and I'm thinking someone's standing there between the bed and the wall or right outside the window. Ten seconds later, I hear Tim get up and come into bed. He didn't see or hear a thing.

So what was it? Gremlins? Aliens? Demons? Very talented puppies? Or have I been watching too many episodes of GHOST ADVENTURES?? You decide...

Gettin' my crazies on...

I hate to admit it, but I did some crazy things when I was writing. Here are my two biggies:

Crazy thing #1:
I HAD AN AFFAIR WITH A BOTTLE OF IRISH MIST.
Affair is probably an overstatement. Let's just say I had occasional...liaisons with it. Now, I know that sounds horrible, but just hear me out. While reading about writing, I came across a comment that writers tend to imbibe a bit more than a normal person. I thought this was asinine...until I had my first bout with writer's block. I'd sit at the screen and stare. For hours. Night after night. I could almost see the little birdies flying around my empty head. After almost a week of this, I thought my writing days were over. I went into mourning. My book was dead. Having nothing to lose, I broke open the bottle of Irish Mist my family bought me for Christmas. An hour and one modest snifter later, my computer keyboard was on fire! I couldn't move my fingers fast enough to keep up with the thoughts that were flying through my head. Every now and then I'd come up with something fantastic and yell out loud BETTE, YOU ARE A FREAKING GENIUS! It was pitiful, but, I was writing. My daughter, once again, thought I was crazy. Eventually, the liaisons subsided. Of course, it was probably my frugality that eventually brought it to an end. After all, Irish Mist wasn't cheap...and I was.

Crazy thing #2:
I BECAME A STALKER.
Now, don't get me wrong. I didn't go around following a certain person, per se, but I did do a bit of research on the computer. Since my inspiration for THE TIP TOP CAFE' was a certain man whom I hadn't heard from in over thirty years, and since I wanted to get some specific details about our relationship correct, like the make and model of his chocolate brown pickup and the color of his eyes (I really don't know why I felt that way--I was writing FICTION, after all), I tried finding him online. I began my search at the last place I knew he lived--a certain small town in California. I typed his name in on whitepages.com, and within a second, his name and address appeared on the screen. Holy crap! He still lived there! My heart went into overdrive. I thought seriously about going out to buy another bottle of Irish Mist, but I didn't. Instead, I did a people search on Yahoo to come up with the names of relatives living with him. Then I went on google maps streetview, and started going up his road, thinking, I'm gonna see his pickup. Right. He had that pickup back in 1976. There was no way he would still have it. Still, after a couple of weeks, I was desperate to find out the make and model of that pickup and the color of his eyes. It was driving me crazy that I couldn't remember. I had to know. So, I did the craziest thing of all. I contacted his son on facebook. I reasoned in my head that with his son being in education, like me, and if I explained to him that I was writing a book, he would understand my boldness in contacting him. So, I did it. He couldn't have been nicer or more cooperative. He answered those questions (Ford F-150 and brown eyes, BTW), plus the one question I always wondered about: Why did he stay out there? I found out the old man he worked for on the ranch became ill, and he couldn't bring himself to leave. Eventually, he married and had two kids.

Long story short, the son and I are still friends on facebook, even after two years. He eventually told his father about THE TIP TOP CAFE', and even sent me a pic of a receipt from the cafe' his dad had kept all these years. I can't help but think that he kept that because of me.

Hmmm....I think it's time for a little Irish Mist...

I can't imagine writing a book...

My dear cousin, Sharon, just dropped by my FB after visiting this blog for the first time and made that comment. Well, Sharon, before January of 2009, I couldn't imagine it either. I didn't think I was capable of writing a whole book. Sure, I'd thought about it for years, kicked around a few ideas, but, I just sat in the ashes and watched the world go by as I dreamed. It wasn't until January 19th of 2009 that I finally acted on that dream.

I guess the real action started nine days earlier, the morning of my 49th birthday on January 10th of that year. I woke up, looked in the mirror, and it was like someone slapped me in the face with a dead carp. Holy crap! My life is more than half over and I have nothing to show for it!  Oh, sure. I had my kids (I love you all, sweeties!!) I'd been married for almost 28 years. I was teaching. But I had no passion, nothing I could really claim as my own. I floundered around for the next week, thinking I'm having a mid-life crisis! I used to think a mid-life crisis was just an excuse men used to justify dalliances with younger women or an excuse to purchase a convertible that they tore around in for six months, and then sold back to the dealer while their wives shook their heads, clucking their "I told you so" clucks. But, alas, I found out that the mid-life crisis was real, and I was now in the midst of a major meltdown. So, I floundered. I cried. I reminisced. And I read the Twilight series. That did it.

Allison (my then thirteen-year-old daughter) and I were taking turns reading the series. I found her crying (after I'd done my own share), and asked what was wrong. She said she had just read the part where Edward left Bella without an explanation of why he was leaving, and she went totally catatonic. Could someone really love another person that much? she asked. I smiled, walked to my bedroom, and opened my underwear drawer. The crinkled corner of an envelope yellowed with age protruded from the side of the drawer. I pulled it out, held it to my nose, and inhaled. It smelled old...musty...with a hint of Old Spice. That was his scent. My Edward. My first love.

I walked back to Allison and handed her the envelope. Yes, sweetie, you can love another person that much. Of course, Allison looked at me like I was crazy. I urged her to read the letter. She took it from the envelope and carefully unfolded the delicate, cracking pages. Three in all. Written in perfect script. She read. I watched. She blinked and looked up at me. Several times. When she finished, she lay the pages in her lap. I don't understand. He left you?  I shook my head. He was my Edward. Then I explained.

Right before my 16th birthday, my sister set me up on a date with a young man who had started coming into our cafe' with his father and brother. He was a farmer--and a gorgeous one. Way out of my league. I could barely breathe, let alone talk, when I was in his presence. It took awhile, but I was finally able to kiss him without feeling like I was going to faint. I was in love, and, unbelievably, he felt the same way.

One Spring Saturday, after several months of dating, he arrived in the backroom of the cafe'. My mom called me into the back. She looked upset, and busied herself with getting an order out. He was holding a red rose. A smile flitted across his face, then disappeared.  I'm moving to California, he said barely above a whisper. I thought I misheard him. What? He repeated himself, and added one word. Tomorrow. After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He left. I made it to the bathroom, threw up, and collapsed. I felt like my life was over.  Three months later, I received the letter.

Yes, sweetie, you can love another person that much.

Allison then said the one thing that changed my life. You should write a book. So, I did.  By the end of the evening, I had written 1500 words. Within three days, I was up to 8,000. Six months later, writing in the evenings, on weekends, and during vacations when I shouldn't have been writing, I racked up 114,000 words. Over 500 pages. I had written a book. THE TIP TOP CAFE'.  I found my passion.

But that was only the beginning of the story...

DAY ONE:

Okay. I admit it. I'm addicted to my laptop. Before the sun peeks through the slats of the blinds, before I free my whining, "I gotta pee, Momma" puppies into the backyard, before I wash the crusted duck poop from the corners of my eyes, I head to my laptop in the darkness of my kitchen, feel for the "on" button, and push it. Only when I hear the comforting whir of the motor indicating that it's firing up do I tend to my other duties. I also have to admit I do this covertly. When my husband's sleeping. If he were up, I wouldn't dare. He already puts up with me setting my laptop up immediately after coming home from school and being on it most of the evening. If he knew I got on my laptop first thing in the morning, it might be too much for him! Of course, it's not like I actually sit. I stand, sometimes leaning a bent knee on my chair, while I check my facebook, my e-mail, the weather, the school lunch...Well, maybe it would be easier if I did sit. Oh, well. I'm addicted. And now I'm blogging. This may end in divorce. (JK, dear!)

So, you may wonder why I'm calling this The Cinderella Diaries.  Last Friday I walked into Cheri W's 7th grade Language Arts class to pick up something I printed. She was showing the original Roger's and Hammerstein's Cinderella, the one from my childhood, the one that inspired dreams of princes and parties and dreams come true. It also inspired the title of this blog.

You see, I've always considered myself a Cinderella.  I'm a loner. I sit in the ashes, watch as life goes on around me and dream of what could be. The song, In my own little corner, in my own little chair, I can be whatever I want to be, has always been a favorite of mine. I thought of it when I auditioned for plays, for America's Youth in Concert, and as a singer with The Reflections. I thought of it when I decided to become a teacher, and a wife to Tim, and a mom to my three beautiful children. And, I thought of it the day I started writing my first novel.

This blog will be a diary of my Cinderella stories, complete with the fairy god-mother, the magical pumpkin, the prince, and the wicked step-mother. I hope you enjoy them and feel inspired to share some of your own.