MOVED

My blog has moved to my website. 

Please visit at http://ellenharger.com/blog/ for all future posts and the entire history from this blog.

I'm working on finding all the links to this blog and correcting them. If you found me this way, I'd love to know so I can fix it.

Cheers!

Ellen

The First Time I Stood Up For Myself

Elementary and high school don't count. I remember defying a group of girls who didn't like me. They wanted to drink a beer at a slumber party. Only one adult in that house drank beer - the birthday twins' mother who made the girls invite me. I knew she'd notice a missing beer. Double strike, the girls wanted to take the beer outside which meant discarding the can. On an Air Force Base. My father was Vice Wing Commander. We'd get caught. Whether I understood that those girls wouldn't be my friends if I complied or not, I don't know. I didn't yield because I didn't do stupid.

I had little patience or like for my peers in high school, but whether you're a lemming or a condescending bitch, a high school attitude doesn't work in real life. I couldn't just ignore people and refuse to engage. I had to dull my tongue. I missed a spot or two.

The first time I truly stood up for myself was when a surgeon told me I had a low threshold for pain. For three years I was made to feel like a hypochondriac because my kidney pain didn't manifest in a textbook location. My primary care physician and a gynecologist checked my ovaries and treated me like a hysterical Victorian woman who suffered from having a uterus. By the time I was in a hospital bed post-op, I'd had enough.

The doctor informed us after the surgery, he didn't have to take a rib. We had no idea he might. He also said the surgery went so well, he didn't insert a stint. Okay - groovy. I was in the hospital nine days because of his decision. On the fourth, I was still on morphine and my JP tube left on suction was very painful. (They only fixed that if my father requested. Not me. Not my mother.) 

I was twenty-five and my parents wouldn't fight my battle for me, but my mother understood. When the women in my family get angry, tears form. It's obnoxious. She said something to me - I've never remembered what - and I turned to Dr. Full-of-Himself and said, "I'm not crying because I'm in pain. I'm crying because I'm so angry at you." 

His attitude changed. We discovered I didn't know I was in charge of my pain meds. I was waiting for the nurses. Finally, I was scheduled for a second surgery to insert the stint and less than forty-eight hours after that, I was home. 

Life is full of turning-points. Some mean craning your head to look down a new path. Some are full swivel shifts several degrees. A few will change how you act in the future.

Working in the real world is vastly different than the nursery-like atmosphere of college. It took a truly insulting firing and a probation at another job to teach me to document everything. I love email. It's the best form of communication. Not only is it a record, my voice doesn't shake and tears don't throttle my voice. I took many injustices on the chin and defended myself with email documentation. I rolled with life by being accountable for my actions.

However, until a year ago my efforts were purely self-preservation. Last year, I published my first novel. I made mistakes. They are mine and cherish them. No one made me skip paying an editor. No one made me pick a particular blog-hop. My roll-out was weak but I wanted to do better. I hired professionals to help me understand branding. I was so proud of my first novel, I sought out a writing coach to help me get the second novel written in a timely fashion. I came alive.

Since last year, I'm no longer surviving to get a paycheck. My writing is my passion. My brand, my books are me. I will fight for them like I've never fought before. Everything in life was practice for this turning point.

So I won't apologize for knowing what I want, for knowing who I am and what I expect. I will make mistakes but I won't apologize when I have to give tough feedback to a professional I've hired. This is my book, brand, website, launch. I am passionate about it. I will not apologize.

I'm not crying because I'm in pain. If I'm crying, it's because I'm so damn angry. I hate those tears but they're as much a part of me as my defective right kidney. And I will stand up for myself no matter how much my voice shakes or someone makes me feel like a whiny diva. I will stand up and defend myself with documentation. I will demand my money's worth and I won't apologize. This is my creation and it deserves everything I've got.

What Happened?

I'm moving. To WordPress.

I've long resisted leaving Blogger but everyone says the view is better. If you know me, you know I've never been a fan of one-lump-everyone. Plus, I like it here. 

What happened?

My website swooped in, swept my blog off his feet, and asked My Mother Stuttered to move in down the street. 
The blog's only request is to feel distinctive. To have a room of his own. 

So while the morphing happens offsite, I'll begin my goodbyes to Blogger.

Thank you for being my first. You welcomed me in and let me play with colors like fingerpaints on a wall. 
I stickered you with widgets and rearranged to my hearts content.
You've been a good friend and nice home since 2009. 
Let the sniffing begin.

Lover

The first novel is a powerful teacher - a nurturing lover...

"Take your time,"  Strong Enough said in a soft whisper. "Slow down. Enjoy."

When I was frustrated, I'd pout in a silent corner only to return, hugging the wall, hoping SE wouldn't make me beg. 

"Try again," SE said, turning the light back on.

We fought a few times but I always returned, eager to join our rhythm. Over and over through ups and downs, SE and I moved together.

Once I got near the end, I rushed to release. It wasn't an explosion. More like falling off a short cliff. 

But I lit up. 

SE helped me be strong enough. It showed me the way. Our time together now over, I left for another. I took all that SE taught me - every lesson I couldn't hear before - and learned to slow down each day. To make more minutes count.

As I near the next big release, I know while SE will always be my first, it will not be my last. 

Hello new lover. Let's nurture each other.

Cost of Originality

Recommend you listen to ABBA's "Money, Money, Money" while reading this post.

If you're like me, you have two jobs - one paying and one soon-to-be paying. After covering bills, the second job purchases software, editors, marketing, subscriptions, domains, and lots of paper for the next novel. 

Launching your own business means you have to spend money to make money. But some of us have tight budgets. The trick is not letting a budget cost you your originality.

I'm very fortunate to have in-house talent, but that also means more software, subscriptions, books, and courses. So despite the cost savings of a spousal art department, we must be extra creative. 

The current project is website development. I have a brand style but we're laboring over the hook. After all, the home page is the first sentence. It invites a viewer in to stay and visit. 

So what's on an author's home page? A picture? ... Yeah, well pictures suck.

Like most people, I'm hyper critical of photos of myself. I may be in my secret lair building an octopus to suck you in, but I don't enjoy looking like Frankenstein's monster. Or as if I have a broken neck. Or like my eyes are two different sizes and my gums want to take over New York.

If my picture is out front, not buried on the About Me page, I need to be cooler. While searching for inspiration, I found an amazing drawing by a comic book artist. ME WANT.

Me can't afford.

So what to do?

Make my own drawing. Would it be easier to dig quarters out of all the couches in my neighborhood? (Ding dong - Avon wants to talk to you on the porch while I dig in your living room cushions.) Actually, yes. I could mail a sack of quarters to Mase One and have a beautimous drawing. But I've started down the path of doing it myself (with A TON of help from Hubs/PixelTwister Art Department) and I'm not ready to quit.

Stay tuned for the BIG reveal of our labor of tears, raised voices, explanations in an extra calm voice, and me letting Jreamy do his thang.

Cross your fingers my marriage isn't the cost of originality!

Author Branding - A Consumer POV

Author branding is invaluable but execution of a brand is a lot like finding your unique writer voice. Discovering individuality can mean wading through theory.

I decided to step back from being an author and look at this as a reader. Except as a reader, I don't visit author websites. My generation may be well versed in computers, but we weren't baptized in them. I grew up this way:

Walden Books, early, 1990, Christopher Pike. I read and reread him, dissecting and devouring every nuance and shivery moment with my best friend. We never knew when his next book was coming, so each time we were at the mall, we checked the shelves. We didn't need the newest release--we just wanted one we hadn't read. Each colorful option was like candy for our eyes. 

Okay, so I'm not the best reader reference. Fine. Time for research. When I look at a few big names I consider valuable role models I find sites as exciting as watching a hen on an egg or as crazed as if all the kids at Chucky Cheese just did sour straws like cocaine. 

• Jennifer Weiner blogs every few months to once a year, and the rest of the information is so static, it's a statue. (Since I first compiled this list, she added a media link)
• Meg Cabot has the best combination blog and website but I still find it frenetic
• Sophie Kinsella's is similar to Meg's but not as visually appealing to me--too much white space
• Kristin Hannah's has an IKEA quality. The website is made by a company who doesn't work with self-published authors. I bite my thumb at you.
• Neil Gaiman's site has a hand firmly against my face and says don't come any closer. It informs me that it will take my request and fetch, but do not come in and sit down.



Matchy, Matchy - Bloggy Natchy

• Jim Butcher is cleaner than Meg and Sophie's but I find myself bored before I even start.  

Okay, fine. Back to theories. A blog and website should be seamlessly connected. An All-in-One. My brain translates this as --------------------------->
  
Frankly, I prefer Candice Olson. I view the website as the living room or kitchen--a place to get to know the author and their work. The blog is the game room or private office for interaction and delving deep inside. These spaces should compliment but be distinctive. 

Do I listen to the industry standard and design my author branding by a well established set of successful tips? Or do I let the consumer inside me in on the fun? As writers, we're supposed to celebrate our individual voices. Why wouldn't I do it with my brand as well? 

The worst that can happen is that the industry is right and eventually I'll adhere, but at least I tried to be me.

Hands

February tribute.
In May, there will be a smile post.

My 2014 Valentine

Thank you to the people who made me angry in the past.
You challenged me to speak up.

Thank you to the people who love me even if we don't always agree. I cherish you for tolerating my opinion, and now that I have one, I plan to be proud but always, always respectful. 

Thank you to everyone who has believed in me despite my wavering confidence. You rolled your eyes to heaven as I questioned my chances and told myself no. You pulled out your hair as I slid back down, but you never left.

Thank you to the professionals who helped me find my voice. For making me do the work. For making me decide.

Thank you for helping me to be the writer I am today.

Why I'm Against Uni-sex Restrooms

Don't give me that look. This is both pertinent and relevant. In fact, it's story gold.

At my office building I suffer a public restroom situation. I avoid the one in our suite because a few years ago I was irreparably scarred by the experience. (I work with men which on the plus side means I can skip make-up most mornings. Sure sometimes the say, "You look nice!" But that's only when I'm dressed like I have an interview. They notice that. Paranoid wenches.)

Unfortunately the two unmarked water closets in the hall are also rooms with a single toilet and a sink. This means that there's urine on the floor, the seat, the sink, the walls and door handle. I swear men are agitated sprinklers. 

So every time I enter an unmarked restroom, I think about the trend to make public restrooms uni-sex. 

...
EWWWWWWW

I'm sorry but using the same toilet as a whole slew of men offends me deeply. When it comes to toilets, I'm not playing the PC game. (Not that I ever do. Political Correctness is for pussies.) 

I say, if genderless restrooms don't have urinals, men must pee outside. 

Review of "From Notting Hill to Love Actually"

by Tiffany McGee


Frankly, my dear, I DO give a damn. I love Chick-Flicks. I love the idea of happy-ever-after, light-hearted fun, and any other hyphenates you can conjure. Imagine my delight when I stumbled across From Notting Hill with Love Actually by Ali McNamara.

Link to Amazon

From Amazon: Movie fanatic Scarlett O'Brien dreams of a life as glamorous and romantic as all the big screen flicks she worships. When a chance house-sitting on iconic Notting Hill comes along, she knows living in one of her favorite movie settings is an opportunity  too good to pass up.

Leaving behind her skeptical friends, family, and fiance, Scarlett heads to London and finds herself thrust in the lead role of her very own romantic comedy. But can real life ever be just like the movies? Larger-than-life new friends, a handsome but irksome new neighbor, and a mystery from past may prove to Scarlett that living her life like a RomCom is more complicated than she thought!




McNamara weaves details of actors and Hollywood fairy-tales into a bright, funny romance. Making no secret of her love of Chick-Flicks, the author writes a story that's like a secret club - the only membership requirement is a DVD player. Movie references come fast and furious (Ha! One of the few movies not mentioned), and althought Scarlett takes time to explain many of them, a lot are tossed out for the reader to reel in on their own. As I read the story, I cheered whenever Scarlett encountered another RomCOM moment in real life, particularly those she didn't plan. In addition to her own burgeoning romantic comedy, Scarlet searches for her long-absent mother, the woman who imparted our heroine with her name and love of cinema.

In defense of romantic comedy, Scarlett opines:

There's something very comforting about watching a Hugh Grant movie. You know no one's head will be blown off in the first three minutes, no one will be tortured, and the worst thing that might happen is seeing a lanky Welshman eating mayonnaise in his underpants.

As far as I'm concerned, we can all use an escape once in a while, and that is exactly what Ali McNamara delivered.

Permission

I turned a leaf in 2013 by working harder than ever before--hubs is great inspiration--but I used to spoil myself all the time. Want to watch a movie? OKAY. Want a second helping? Come to mama, you glorious extra portion of pasta. Don't want to get up on a weekend morning? Master turning five more minutes into an extra hour and a half. 

After weeks of pushing myself, I took some time off. Except I didn't give myself permission. I snuck it like a child hoping my parents wouldn't notice and believing I got away with it. I was ready with excuses.

"I have a headache."
"I will!" (Use teenage tone of beleaguered angst as if you've done everything ever asked of you and any questioning of your reliability is the greatest insult ever.)
"I have to clean first," says no one genuinely.

Too often I wait to say it's okay until after I've been a grump. You must give yourself permission before otherwise you get pissy. And it leaks. 

This time, I asked my editor for permission in advance. She gave me another week, until February 1. 

I didn't worry about my current novel and a funny thing happened. I wrote blog posts, prepped a short story for a literary journal, discovered the back story for my next novel, and invested time in marketing. And it didn't feel like work. 

It's been one week and instead of feeling guilty or annoyed, I'm refreshed.

Why Did You Write Your Book?

I'm reading, APE: Author, Publisher, Entrepreneur - How to Publish a Book by Guy Kawasaki and Shawn Welch, and chapter one throws out a doozy of a question. "Why should anyone give a shiitake about your book?"

I have an answer. 

I just don't share it. 

Even now my heart thumps. Hook it to a sub-woofer and the windows would rattle. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

I began writing Strong Enough to get the babbling out of my head. After the first disastrous draft, I set it aside without an ending and returned to observing.

Until I found a cause. Something lacking within story.

A voice.

For women.

Who choose abortion.

Over 50 million abortions have happened since Roe vs. Wade but in most movies or novels she keeps the baby. 

Abortion is a topic with T-n-T strapped to its chest. Some want to fist-pump it. Others want to abolish it. While in the vast middle, millions of women sit before TVs or books and wonder, "Am I alone?"

Whitney walks in these women's shoes. She tells their private story that is neither left nor right. She holds their hand and tells them, "I understand."





And now for a song. Hat-tip to author Suanne Bierman Laqueur for this special gem and its fabulous place in High Fidelity. 
DJ Whit approves.
Just a taste of "Dry the Rain" by the Beta Band

Noodling

I'm a noodler. I enjoy trimming prose until it's tighter, leaner, meaner. But when is editing a liability? Maybe when you're changing strong words for slightly better.

I'm a perfectionist. I want the best word choice and impact. But I used to noodle out of fear. 

The years it took me to finish Strong Enough is fodder for many blog posts. Dozens of reasons help make excuses for why it took so long, but only three matter:

1) I didn't live to finish my novel. It was a hobby
2) I had no clue what I was doing
3) Scared to let go of my baby, I noodled and noodled and noodled

Once I released Strong Enough, the three monsters above shriveled into raisins. I could heed the advice of other writers: 

• Find an editor 
• Delegate to professionals 
• INVEST IN YOUR CRAFT

I leapt into my second novel and churned it out in months, not years, proving writing was no longer a clueless hobby. Plus I was hooked on a special connection I made with several readers. What a high!

Taking your writing seriously makes the excuses slink away. Not that they aren't hovering, waiting to return. It's a constant battle to believe but each success makes a difference. That and learning to distinguish the good editing from the bad.

I'm eager to noodle Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones not because I'm scared, but because I want it to shine. And I won't edit forever. I'm far too eager to share.

Nicknames

Of all the stories I've written, not one character has a nickname. Sure Whitney becomes DJ Whit, but that was an echo of her progression and who influenced her. I'm talking about affectionate and personal names we call people whom we love.

Ruboes and Elbows

I come from a long line of interesting moniker-makers and was shaped by one of the masters. Random sampling from my Dad's arsenal: Mighty Mouse (his mother), Edger, Digger, Moses, Tooz, Peetees, Bear Cat, Gar-Burger, Ruboes, Mugly Utt, Catarino LaVinciano - aka Trina.

A sampling of my winners: Rosasita-B-Lizzie-Tishie-Tushie-Face, Ra Ra, Reesetofarian, Keatonian, SuPu, Jreamy, Clonater, Goober, Mulah/Moneybags (interchangeable for parents), Booger, Nutt Butt, Woman, Short Ones.

As much as I've borrowed from my life to write stories, I never tapped into this well until The

Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones. One particular character had to be Vee. Her formal name changed a couple times but that's how I thought of her. Vee. She's an interesting character because her essence came fully formed. I assigned specific attributes from people I knew but Vee was always her own person--always a beacon of positive thinking.

Once I let out one nickname, another untapped well opened. Even though all my pets have enjoyed gajillions of nicknames, I, a bonafide dog lover, never included a Mugly Utt in a story.  WTH? 

Then the perfect mate padded into the story of Gillian--a mutt mix of my own Wee Reese, Huero and Keaton combined to make lovable Buster. It was a joy writing this character. As a dog, he represents pure love--able to overlook all character flaws. As a friend, he shows Gillian how to open up again.

In future writings, look for more nicknames, pets and nicknamed pets. I can't close the wells.

Keatonian

Reestofarian

A Failed Attempt

Unlike DIY blogs that make every project appear perfectly effortless, I'm chronicling it all.

My office upgrade takes second to writing and the holidays shoved it down even further, but to be honest, I'm intimidated to sew a chair cover. Without a pattern. For the first time in my life. After sewing only straight seams for curtains.

Because that's me. I took painting courses before drawing. Yes, bass-ackwards supposedly works for me.

The Fabric

Case in point: last fall, I decided to test my skills on a far more simple project than my office reading chair--an elastic trimmed cover for my oval glass coffee table. The pattern concept a basic shower cap fit. 

My mother came over to give moral support and guidance (she of the famed "I-sewed-dining-room-chair-covers-the-day-of-a-party-while-massively-pregnant-with-you"). First, without a plan or pattern, we cut the oval too small. Then my mother left because watching me pin and re-pin was uber boring. It took a total seven rounds of pin-play (and ripping out stitches) to get the fit just right. 

The cover was smooth and taut, barely gripping the edges, but it worked. I noted the age-old wisdom of making a sample with plain, thin material and vowed to do that for the chair.

Sadly, I have no picture of the table cover to share because someone forgot to pre-wash her material. After a party that included a vodka shot penalty for missed movie quotes*, the table cover needed to be washed and never again will it stretch across.

But at least I have a sample and experience for next time!








* 1 person per team took the shots because they weren't driving, and the penalties were maxed out at a certain count. Otherwise, some people would be in a coma. After my first shot, I think I yelled out, "Taxi Driver" for anything obviously not romantic.

Interview with Author Allison Merritt

A chance to interview Allison Merritt means plenty of opportunities to talk self-publishing, but I enjoyed “The Convict and the Cattleman” so much, I want to know more about her journey with it.

Did "The Convict and the Cattleman" go straight from your head to paper to published?

If only it were that easy. Convict started in late 2008 as a really bad draft that my then computer, an outdated Toshiba Satellite, ate when said computer crashed and I had to start all over again--with an equally bad draft, but it was slightly better than the first attempt. I revised with some help from an online critique group called Rom-Critters (fantastic bunch of folks) in 2009. In 2010, I pretty much hated where it had gone and I started a third draft. I was shooting for submission with Mills & Boon, but I couldn’t make that thing stretch into 75,000 words, which is their requirement for submission length. I was so sick of it, I just crammed it into a dark, dank file on my flash drive and left it while I worked on super-crazy steampunk romances. It was a different tone altogether and it made me happy, whereas Convict started eating my soul (I swear). It stayed in that buried file until January 2013 when I was bored. Reading through it, I thought it was a little absurd in some parts, but it wouldn’t take anything to finish and polish. Five thousand words later, I was feeling a lot better about it. If not for an editor pitch on one of my critique partner’s group blogs for Lyrical Press, I don’t know where it would be right now. Maybe at a different house. It’s hard to say.

What was the inspiration, the thought kernel that birthed "The Convict and the Cattleman"?

All my good ideas seem to come when I’m in the shower. I read an article about how it’s relaxing there, so it’s easy to open up your creative mind. I hadn’t written anything since the summer of 2003 when I was doing my internship at college (that’s a book I swear to you will never, never see the light of day). My dad died unexpectedly that fall and for whatever reason, it drained all my creative outlets. In the fall of 2008, I was really depressed because I’d taken a job I hated, had to quit it and go back to my old job, which was okay-ish (at least it was waiting for me), but I was frustrated with the way my life was going. I started talking with an old writer friend of mine who was querying, had a Golden Heart nomination, and an agent. It seemed like if I should be frustrated about something, it ought to be about books. I’d gone to college to be a journalist--I suck at it, so that didn’t exactly fly--with the intention of writing novels in my spare time. Historicals have always been among my favorite romance genre, but I wanted to write something besides the historicals I was used to, set in the Old West, something that people would look at and go, ‘okay, this is different’. Boom! Penal colony.

Was this story research intensive?

In some ways yes, because I could list the things I knew about Australia on one hand. They have sheep, crocodiles, deserts, kangaroos, and some of their population came from convicts. In the beginning, I had a huge folder I carried around with me that had maps, listed details about every Female Factory in Australia, details about convict life, transport ships, and even some things about cattle. In other ways, it was a typical historical--a little bit before my favorite decades, because I like historical romances set after the Civil War usually, but I never felt uncomfortable writing it. Especially because I don’t know squat about sheep, so I was really pleased that I could make Jonah a pioneer cattleman. Once I got around all the convict stuff, it wasn’t much different than writing a love story set in the Old West.

What was the most enjoyable part of writing this novel?

Writing the ending! I was so surprised when I pulled it out again how close it was to finished. Don’t get me wrong, it needed work mechanically, but the story was all there. It really just needed a few thousand words to sew up the gaping hole between the hero and heroine and an epilogue for the happily-ever-after. It was a lot easier than I had convinced myself in 2010. 

I read that you thought your affair with historical romance was over. Obviously that’s changed. Tell us about your artistic shift after "The Convict and the Cattleman" was picked up.

I really thought when I started writing steampunk and then came up with the idea for the Heckmasters, which is paranormal/historical romance series, that I was done with vanilla historicals. It’s so much fun to manipulate timelines and twist history. When I got the good news that Lyrical wanted Convict, I immediately thought, I need to come up with something else so I can keep writing for them. I hadn’t started any of the Heckmaster books yet, but I was sure I was going to self-publish those (shout out to my editor Holly at Samhain for loving the Heckmasters and changing my mind). I love unrequited love stories where someone has a change of heart, which led to The Wrong Brother’s Bride, the first book I set in the Ozarks. It was inspired by my love of Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield and visiting the Ray House. The deeper I dug into local history, the more inspired I became by places my characters could visit. One thing I should have reminded myself of was to never say never, because I didn’t think I’d ever write in the paranormal sub-genre period. I shouldn’t have said, I’ll never go back to historicals. I think they’re harder to write, but I do love them. Switching back and forth between sub-genres gives my brain a chance to reboot.

What other historical romances are coming from Allison Merritt?

Wildwood Spring is releasing in February from Breathless Press, which is super fast considering it just contracted at the end of November. It’s set in Eureka Springs, Arkansas after the big resort boom in the late 1800s. It’s my ode to Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, which is one of my favorite romances. Minus the beast, because my hero is not beastly, just reclusive, but the heroine is a little odd, and there’s a too-macho-for-his own-good bad guy. It definitely has a dollop of weird in it, but it’s true to the time period, which makes it historical romance.

My other historical release is The Wrong Brother’s Bride, also from Lyrical. I was told the release date is sometime in May back when I first contracted it, but with the switch to Kensington, I’m not sure if that will change. It’s the story of a man who returns home after his brother’s death to find that his brother’s fiance is pregnant and determined to keep the farm where he died. He offers her a marriage of convenience, but he’s loved her secretly for years. She’s not sure she can trust him because he was always unreliable when he was younger and her father never had a good word about him. As they try to make a life together, she’s surprised by the changes in him and she starts to see that she didn’t marry the wrong brother after all. It seems like they’ll live happily-ever-after, but then he’s accused of a crime that happened years ago and things start to look bad for the happy couple. Dun, dun, dun...

Book Review: "The Convict and the Cattleman"

In September I attended ORAcon 2013 writer's conference. In my swag bag was a lovely piece of promotional material--the first chapter of a novel. It was printed on regular paper folded in half to make a wee book complete with a color image of the cover below.

I was intrigued. I don't read much traditional romance (historical or otherwise) but I had to know if the title meant the heroine chooses between a convict and a cattleman. If not, who was the convict? I was instantly obsessed with the convict.

The blurb revealed the criminal was the heroine! Pleased, I read the proffered chapter. After that, I had to read the novel.

BLURB: 

His love is the key to her release.

Sentenced to seven years of servitude in the penal colony of New South Wales, Bridgit Madden is thrust into a world unlike anything she's known, dangers she never imagined and enemies with their own interests at heart. Certain that the conviction has ruined her chances of ever having a real family, she is fearful of her future.

Despite his reluctance to take in a convict, Jonah Andrus, a grazier and pioneer cattleman, needs a servant to care for his orphaned niece. When presented with Bridgit, who is far too beautiful and distracting, he initially tries to refuse. However, with a busy cattle station to oversee, he needs help right away.

Upon her first meeting with Jonah's niece, Bridgit immediately falls in love with the girl and becomes entwined the mystery surrounding her birth. As she gets to know her employer better, Bridgit makes it her mission to remind him that family is priceless. When it seems as though she might have found the place she truly belongs, their love is threatened by lies and deceit, and both of them might lose everything they hold dear for a second time.

I don't read much romance and as you probably know, I rarely review. Obviously this book convinced me to share. 

"The Convict and the Cattleman" is faithful to the traditional plot requirements of boy meets girl/girl meets boy, instant attraction, hot sex, love doubts, miscommunication and or secrets, trouble, and happy resolution. Yet, the plot was original enough to surprise me. 

Allison Merritt breathes a fresh voice into the genre. I was immediately hooked by the heroine being a convict and never disappointed. I liked Bridgit and Jonah. I liked their story and rooted for them to reach their destined HEA.

A delightful and satisfying read. Once finished, you'll be looking for the next Allison Merritt.


Visit Wednesday, January 15 when Allison joins me for an interview.

Well, Dirty Word

Several months after starting my second novel, The Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones, I hired an editor. Time to vanquish one of the many Fear Demons.

Certain expectations (demons) rise up when a writer ceases to be edited by friends to work with a person who edits for a living. And if you're like me, you're blinded with assumptions that don't color the world rosy or black. They seem clear.

After finding a direct, honest editor I could trust, I knew I'd be challenged on every thematic squiggle. I'd be told I'm too in love with my writing, cut the superfluous flowers. Or my story is too thin. Or I can't write. (Strong Enough is my first baby and I will love her forever, but readers have pointed out certain issues. Plus, I had over a decade to find every continuity issue and to rework every word. Twice.)

Armored for the blows, I emailed my manuscript for my editor to attack with a magnifying glass and whip. With pages so bloody I couldn't find their original words, I would spend hours covered in sweat and tears. This is how it's done.

Early on I received praise and the edits were ... too easy. (Of course, I like editing.) I was pleased but knew my first chapters were well honed. It couldn't last. 

More chapters returned with usual marks. (I can't use a comma to save my life.) I cleaned up each chapter and sometimes attacked weak spots I noticed before sending it back. More marks and silence. Marks and silence. Where were the piercing questions asking me to dig so deep I bled?

I stammer typed an email about how much I loved this book (help me make it worthy was my unspoken request). I received a simple, supportive "you go, girl." 

Obviously this meant we were either doing one run through and we'd dig deeper next time, or my book was merely cute and couldn't be taken seriously. My editor would never shove sunshine up my arse so the lack of blood meant I wasn't worthy. (huh?)

Yeah, I cut reality to fit my expectations. 

Oh I see how stupid it is now, but I didn't expect a Fear Demon to possess me. I was armed to the teeth with positive words penned by others. I've encouraged writers to believe in themselves, but deep down I didn't. Not in me. Not without years of struggle. There must be struggle.

So I asked Becky what she thought (hating each needy word). Her response humbled me. Not by taking me down from lofty beliefs but by lifting me up from lowly doubt.

"I think it's utterly fantastic. Rich, descriptive and beautifully penned. If it's shit, I'll be the first to tell you."

She wrote that. On Facebook. In front of other writers. 

Well, fuck.

2014 - Hey, Soul Sister

It's 2014! What to write for my first post in the new year? 

Turning 40? Meh. For a heartbeat last year I let society burrow into my brain like termites, but the rot has been exterminated. Forty is going to be awesome.

Resolutions? The topic has been covered. On New Year's Eve, hubs and I wrote down and burned negatives from 2013. Some notes were actions, some were events, and a few were attitudes. I'd share them but they're gone.

I did the year-in-review on Facebook. Savoring the good is worthwhile. 
In 2013 I

• Married my love and best friend, Jeremy Pollreisz.
• Published my first novel, Strong Enough, as an ebook on Amazon and with Smashwords.
• Invested in my Brand by engaging Jarika Johnson at Will Write For Love.
• Took a chance and did a Summer Writing Camp with Becky and Ranee.
• Completed my second novel and am working on edits with Becky, Editor of Fierce Bluntness (my cup of tea).
• Joined the Ozarks Romance Authors group - amazing group of writers.
• Attended my first writer's conference, ORAcon2013, and it was fan-freakin-tastic.

No matter what hardships tried to distract me in 2013, it was a wonderful year. I embrace only the good and in 2014 I look forward to

• Publishing my second novel, The Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones
• Writing, writing, writing
• Such as sequel to Strong Enough, Training Wheels, Wanderlust
• Publishing, publishing, publishing
• Marketing, marketing, marketing
• Reading, reading, reading
• LOVE, LOVING, BEING LOVED
• and of course, turning 40

The rest will come in waves of unexpected glory or daily doses of joy. 

E

Jump For a New Review!

Timing is everything, they say. (They who? Okay, me. I said it. And I'll say it again.)

Timing is everything. But you have to be ready and willing to jump out of the airplane of life and dive, twirling into the wild beauty of free falling.

As of today's post The Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones is humming along through edits with the amazing Rebecca T. Dickson, but a few weeks ago, just before I uncurled my fingers from my newest baby, I noticed my other one, Strong Enough, playing alone. Crap.

All of fall 2013 I dreamed about the Anon Blog release party and celebrated its cover. As the holidays took over and I noticed the end of the year coming up like a brick wall, I cuddled my To Do lists close and coo'd, "I didn't forget you or you or you or you."

Up went an FB banner featuring both my novel covers (thank you to PixelTwister Studio). Just this one action flushed me with new energy.

Dressed for success in 2014 (parachute, goggles, snazzy jump-suit), I flew over a prime jump spot. But it wasn't on my map. It was too early.

Grabbing my interest was Jen Blood's end of the year promotion for a book eval. Lonely Strong Enough preened herself before me and I didn't think. I asked what Jen's services included and how much. Jen responded promptly with this option: Publishing Evaluation and Consult. For a spectacular fee she would evaluate Strong Enough and offer pointed marketing suggestions. 

Hmmmmm, let me think. One of my most beloved Indie authors whose writing is as tight as Joan Rivers' face and as smooth as Lindt chocolate truffles is offering her skill, insight, and honesty? What to do. What to do.

We closed the day of (I jumped) and it has been an exhilarating fall. I've cartwheeled through clouds and somersaulted with eagles.

First let me say, Jen's evaluation turnaround was whirlwind fast. Even stricken with the crud she sent me updates and met our agreed deadline. I've poured over her analysis and my stomach still fwips.

Here's a taste: "First, this is a gorgeous book." I almost forgot to open my chute.

Then she hit me with an added bonus. Yes, folks - THERE'S MORE. (I expect knives that cut cans any day.) 

She also reviewed my book. WOAH. Here's the link on Amazon, y'all. 

I stuck the landing.