Writing is so NOT Glamorous
But maybe it needs to be….
Or NOT.
Yes, I’m all over the place because I’m really struggling with my writing. I’ve been setting aside a few hours every evening to write. I pick up my laptop and move from my desk to my comfy reading chair in my office the DH got me for Christmas. This chair has many purposes. I sit and watch TV while I fold laundry in it. I sit and read. AND I write while sitting in it. Or at least that was the plan.
But its not working out so well for me lately.
I don’t believe in writers block, but I do believe if you don’t exercise your talents it will take a while to get them back. I’ve been writing in spurts over the last couple of years and my WIP was coming along nicely. Then the next WIP was coming along nicely. And then the next. I have 3 manuscripts that are not finished. I have 3 other manuscripts that are drafts, but I can’t seem to wrap my brain around what I was doing with them…even though I have all my spreadsheets and notes written out and at my fingertips.
But try as I might, I’m stuck. I sit, with hands on the keyboard, but they don’t move. Except for yesterday. They moved at the rink. I wrote one random scene for current WIP and I realized the majority of my writing used to be done at ice rinks while my children were at practice. Do I need to go to the ice rink to write?
I don’t think so, but I’m not sure what the solution will be other than I think I just have to exercise that part of my brain. I get a lot of the creative component when I do covers and other aspects of my “day job”, so I know the ability to craft is still there.
I also have to wonder if this momentary lapse in the ability to write is more of an inability to connect with what I want to write…meaning I don’t really know what I want to write and until I figure that out, I’m going to continue to be stuck.
Which brings up the kind of books I’ve been writing versus the kinds of books I have been published in. Perhaps, the dark edgy tone of my voice is still too dark and I need to go back to my roots. Back to what brought me to writing in the first place. So, this week will be filled with reading a bunch of my all time favorite Romantic Suspense books and see what kind of characters and stories I fall in love with.
Reading is a part of writing. So, off to read.
A day in the Glamorous Life and Dieting
Never been fond of the term “diet” or “dieting”. Weight loss, in a way, has to be a way of life. I’ve battled weight issues my whole life. I’ve gone up and down from current size to a mini size since I was a teenager. There really is only one way to be at a healthy weight and that is a proper diet and exercise. Two things I am not good at.
After I gave birth to my last child (14 years ago) I was at my heaviest. Two years later, still at my heaviest. So, joined Weight Watchers, lost nearly 50 pounds….
Stayed that way, through eating right and exercising until 2009. What changed? Well, I can come up with all sorts of excuses, like an unexpected illness and major surgery, but the bottom line is, the last year or so I just haven’t paid much attention to what goes into my mouth and the amount of exercise I actually do. Being a writer and now a publisher, I tend to sit on my butt all day…snacking.
I don’t do New Years Resolutions, but on 01 January, I joined Weight Watchers again. I’ve lost 9 pounds since then. I know, it’s a lot of weight in 9 days, but much of it is bloat.
At Write It Forward, we always say the key to anything is consistency. The same is true for weight loss and maintaining weight. You have to be consistent, and so far, so good. Also, I’m putting this out there to keep me honest. It’s like when I came out of the cave and admitted to my family, “hey, I wrote a book and I AM a WRITER.” If we don’t put our goals out there, we aren’t holding ourselves accountable. Its not so much a set weight I want to be at, but more to feel good in my own skin again. And to be healthy.
The KDP Select Program: Setting Your Titles FREE
My post over at Write It Forward about KDP Select and setting your titles to FREE.
Excerpt from Jane Doe’s Return which is #Free on #Kindle for next 5 Days!
For the next five days, my book Jane Doe’s Return will be free on Kindle. Its FREE! Go, download it now. Really. Do it. It’s Free!
I think Jane Doe’s Return was the fourth book I ever wrote. The first two never saw the light of day, and won’t. then In Two Weeks (to be released in a few months) and then Jane Doe’s Return, which won The Molly and The Beacon when I was still unpublished. That right there was total validation as a writer. Sure, when you enter a contests, you’re only as good as those manuscripts you are up against, but still, enough people liked me work to give it a thumbs up. That was worth its weight in gold.
The book is set between Albany and Lake George, New York. Two places I know well since I lived there until I was 14. I have a visual memory, like most writers, and at any moment in time, I can close my eyes and see the area. I see it better than I see where I’ve lived since I was 14. Its just a very special place to me, so I tend to set my books there.
Here is an excerpt, just encase you haven’t gone over there and downloaded the FREE copy yet.
CHAPTER ONE
Special Agent Travis Brown entered the old hotel in downtown Albany, New York through the main doors, ignoring the putrid odor filling his nostrils. Rotted old hotels always smelled like urine-soaked clothing left in the sun for days. He took mental notes of everything, anything, as he scanned every inch of the lobby. Even a scrunched-up piece of paper, tossed carelessly in the corner, could be the clue that would lead them in the right direction. A cool sweat dampened his hairline. His hand trembled as he ran his fingers through his black hair. It was happening again.
The dull orange carpet felt like concrete as he made his way down the hall. He forced himself to focus as he nodded to the two uniformed city cops standing at attention outside the room where the body had been found.
Without saying a word, Travis flashed his badge.
“Who called in the FBI?” one of the offers’ questioned.
“Part of the Tri-City Task Force,” Travis said.
“Great. Another bureaucrat decided to create more red-tape just so they can make a name for themselves while we get blamed for killers running amuck.”
“Just doing my job, like you.” If Travis didn’t have ulterior motives, he would be able to understand the chest pounding. “What can you tell me?”
“The call came in around ten this evening,” the officer said. “Detective Hutchensen is in charge. Why don’t you talk to him?”
“I’ll do that.” Travis studied the crime scene, looking for anything that he might be able to connect to Marie’s case. While this scene wasn’t identical to his sister’s, there were some similarities Travis couldn’t dismiss. The gnawing voice in the back of his mind told him whoever killed this young girl had also killed Marie.
Travis snapped the latex gloves in place. The sudden impact of rubber against his skin shot the powdery lining into the air. He inhaled sharply, letting the powder linger in his nostrils, masking the scent of death. His stomach lurched in one violent motion to the back of his throat. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the killer was somewhere, watching him, mocking him.
The body lay face up on the bed. A pale-blue dress had been draped over the side and a tiara rested above the victim’s head. A bright light from a camera flashed across the room as the forensics team took pictures and moved about in an all-too-familiar pattern. “Detective Hutchensen, long time no see.”
“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.”
“My night to be out with the crazies.”
“Can’t say I’m all too happy about this Task Force thing. Just makes my job more difficult. This why we have jurisdictions and all that,” Hutchensen said.
“We’ve all got the same goal in mind. Besides, I was called in by your boss.”
“Yeah, I know.” Hutchensen could be a hard ass and liked doing things his way, but he was a damn good cop. Besides, Travis had to agree, sometimes joint forces only added confusion to a case. Too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak.
“We’re just looking for a profile on this one,” Hutchensen said. “While it appears random, the scene looks ritualistic.” He rose from his crouched position, standing about two inches taller than Travis’s six-foot frame. “As you know, we’ve got a couple of open murder cases we’re trying to connect. This one almost looks like a copycat of Matt Williams.”
Travis cringed at the name. This was no copycat. This was the real deal.“I’ll take a look around, run it through our national database.” Travis was grateful for the chance to look at the crime scene firsthand. Usually, he viewed pictures and reports after the fact trying to find a pattern to help form a profile of a possible suspects, but this one fit a particular criminal, one that had been haunting Travis for years.
He made notes of similarities and differences between this crime scene, any unsolved case, and his sister’s case. There had to be a clue. A hint. He couldn’t afford to miss anything.
“Medical examiner is here,” someone said from the hall.
“He can take the body,” Hutchensen said. “Let’s get all the evidence bagged and get out of here.” He glanced over his shoulder at Travis. “Got anything off the cuff?”
Travis shook his head. “My instincts tell me there is more than meets the eye on this one.” God, did he want first dibs on this case.
“I’ll take what I can get.”
Travis stepped from the hotel room, knowing his sister’s killer had just struck again, but he couldn’t prove it. His boss would blow a gasket if Travis tried to tie these scenes together without concrete evidence. With a heavy heart, Travis got in his truck and headed back to his apartment.
The empty back streets echoed the darkness in Travis’s soul. He pulled into his driveway and then slammed the gearshift into park. He glanced at the small patch of grass with colorful bushes lining the side of the duplex. When would it all end? Recently, his mother had told him that his normally full-of-life blue eyes had turned dull, and dead. Inside, he felt dead. The more years that passed, the more his heart yearned for closure. Real closure.
Once inside, he tossed his keys on the countertop in the kitchen and checked his voice mail. One message was from his mother and the other from Jake Hanson indicating he would be in town and would stop by soon. Great. Jake had probably already heard about the murder and wanted to check up on Travis.
He headed for his bedroom. He laid his coat on the neatly made bed, then went to his closet and shed his suit, making sure to hang the pants. He tucked his shirt into his dry-cleaning bag before pulling out his portable filing cabinet. Routine had been the only thing that kept him sane all these years.
He set all the unofficial files he had collected across his bed and took in a deep breath as he opened his laptop and connected to the FBI database. Somehow he had to connect them. He had to prove that this particular killer still walked the streets.
But try as he might, he couldn’t make a concrete connection. Too many differences, not enough evidence. He searched for other possible connections with any active case in hopes to pull this murder into the FBI’s jurisdiction, but got nothing even remotely close.
His report for the local cops would include a criminal profile, but he would recommend they start with family and any lovers and continue on that path until they found the girl’s killer. Wasn’t the FBI’s case, so Travis would have to back off.
With the morning sun peeking through the shade, he sat on his bed and held the Polaroid of the young dead girl. She had been only fourteen, the daughter of a prominent business man and only a year younger than his sister when she had been murdered.
Travis flipped open another file. The badly beaten and swollen face of a nameless girl called to him. He glided his fingers across the picture. Jane Doe had survived, but no one knew who she was or where she went. How did a fourteen-year-old disappear from a crime scene without a trace? The police hadn’t gotten the chance to fingerprint her. They’d barely gotten the chance to talk to her before she slipped away into the night and hadn’t been heard from since.
The police had never officially given up their search for Jane Doe, but after Matt Williams was charged with Marie’s rape and death, they put the search on the back burner. They had enough evidence to convict Williams on multiple murders. Therefore, Jane Doe became immaterial. Williams would face life in prison. Yet the murders continued. Some fit the MO, others not so much, but Travis knew in his heart of hearts the killer was still out there searching for his next victim.
Regardless of what the rest of the world thought, Matt Williams didn’t kill Travis’s sister and he didn’t rape Jane Doe. These two things, Travis would bet his life on. Finding Jane Doe had to be the answer. She was the one person who held the key to unlocking the mystery of a ruthless killer.
“Who are you? And where are you now?”
****
Travis pulled into the parking garage of the Albany Federal Building after a sleepless night of staring at dead girls. He didn’t think the week could get any worse. Until he got his mail with the letter denying his request.
He’d been banking on this promotion ever since his mentor and partner had moved up in ranks. They had to do something with him, so he figured he was a shoe in. He grabbed a cup of coffee and headed down the hallway to his office.
He sat down behind his desk, squeezed the empty envelope tight, and then lifted it over his head. As if it were a basketball, he banked the crumpled piece of paper off the wall, but it missed the garbage can. “Damn.”
He lifted his legs and dumped his feet on his desk. With his hands clasped behind his head, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Twelve pictures looked back at him.
“We need to talk,” a voice from the hallway said. Scott Grimshaw, Special Agent in Charge and Travis’s boss, leaned against the doorjamb.
Travis’s feet hit the floor. “I’m listening.”
“I read your report. Thanks for not putting a personal twist on things.”
“The killer from last night wasn’t some kind of copycat, nor was it a random act, but my gut doesn’t constitute a lead in the direction I think we should take, even if I trust my gut.”
“I, too, believe it wasn’t a random act, but Marie’s killer is behind bars,” Scott said.
“Then why do we have all these open cases that are so damn similar with no real leads?”
“Because you read too much into things. Look, you’re a good agent, let’s focus on what we can do, not what haunts us.”
“That is exactly what I’m doing,” Travis said averting his eyes to the piece of paper lying on his office floor. “Got my denial today.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t ask, but what did your letter say?”
“I gave you a glowing recommendation, but truthfully, I don’t think you’re ready yet.”
“Thanks for the honesty.” Truthfulness was the one thing Travis could always count on from his boss.
“You’ve only been with us for four years. It typically takes six or eight to get that position. Trust me. You’ll get it eventually.” Scott looked sympathetic, then again, he always appeared empathetic. Travis chalked it up to his silver-grey hair which made him appear about ten years older than his actual age of about fifty. “You’re a good agent, but we need you here,” Scott said.
Travis said nothing. Eventually wasn’t good enough. He stood and looked out over McCarty Avenue and watched the cars and people mindlessly move about their day.
“You’ve been assigned a first,” Scott said, tossing a file on his desk.
“What?” Travis whipped his head around.
“She’s got a—”
“A first and a skirt? You’ve got to be kidding me.” He didn’t mind the skirt part, but training a new agent could delay his promotion by two years, at least.
“Shauna Morgan. You know her?” Scott asked, still leaning against the wooden doorframe.
Travis stared at his boss for a moment wondering if he ever wore anything other than a dark blue suit and a standard grey tie that damn near matched his eyes. “Can’t say that I do.” He rolled the name around in his brain, trying to place it but got nothing. “Why?”
“She’s from the area and a rape victim advocate, so I figured you might know her.”
“Nope. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of her.” Travis scooped up the folder and thumbed through the papers until he came across his new partner’s photo. For a brief moment, he held his breath. Standard FBI identification photographs were generally worse than mug shots, but his new partner, with her soft-looking brown hair and sparking blue eyes was more than a looker.
“Doesn’t matter. She’s been assigned to this office because she fits the same profile as you.”
“And what pray-tell is that?” Travis asked.
“She’s being tracked for the National Violent Crimes Unit.”
“Oh great. So she’ll get the promotion before I do.”
Scott let out a small chuckle. The man was too easily amused. “You are such a pessimist. If you two work together all nice, they’ll transfer you as partners. It’s preferred that way, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” Travis was having a hard time buying the line of bullshit his boss was dishing out. Besides, he wasn’t a pessimist. If that were the case, he would have given up on finding his sister’s killer years ago. Cynical, maybe. Pessimist, certainly not.
“You need to pick up your new partner at the airport this afternoon at five. Officially, she’s on the job the moment you lay eyes on her. I expect you to train her better than your mentor trained you.” Scott pointed to the ceiling with a disapproving look. “Which means those have to go.”
Travis glanced up at the constant reminders of his biggest failure. He’d been told before to toss the pictures, but never listened.
“Now. I can’t have you train a new agent with closed cases, and cases the FBI isn’t even involved in, on your ceiling. If you don’t take them down, I will do it for you.”
“Fine.” Travis shrugged. One of these days someone would have to listen to him.
“And keep Agent Morgan out of your own little investigation. You’ll never get that promotion if I have to write you up.”
Travis nodded. Scott had been somewhat understanding over the years, but Travis knew he’d been skating on thin ice when it came to how much he used his job to get information for himself.
“Agent Morgan’s your shadow. You don’t go to the bathroom without her.”
Travis gave a grunt of acceptance, climbing on top of his desk. He figured Scott would stick around until he pulled the pictures down.
Travis jumped down and Scott strode out of the office. Travis put the pictures of twelve teenage victims, all raped and murdered but one, into a folder. Holding Jane Doe’s picture in his hand, he stared at her bruised face. He stroked the picture and put it into a file, then shoved it in his top drawer. Time to meet his new partner.
A Day in the Glamorous Life…..
My life really isn’t very glamorous at all. Not one single bit. A typical week day goes something like this….
Roll out of bed and make sure two unhappy teenage boys are up. Drive one to the HS to get bus to Private School while other one drives himself to school. Stop at grocery store because NO ONE is there at 7am and I’m still in my PJ’s which consist of Salve Regina sweat pants, an oversized Sabres T-Shirt and my favorite slippers. Come home, try to have a conversation with my DH, except he’s reading the paper and whatever I say goes in one ear and out the other….
At desk, read the massive amounts of emails I get (about 5 or 6 and usually from Google Alerts and one from my DH indicting his plans for the week even though I just asked him…he talks to Siri more than he talks to me!).
Then my to do list. Right now, the list is literally longer than my hair (which is pretty long). Today on my list I have to re-set some prices at iBooks. Because iBooks is in 32 territories I have to reset the price 32 times per EACH book! One at a time!
Then a cover to tweak for the Awesome Mary Reed McCall.
Then I have royalty statements to work on. I have all the info tallied for two of the three months we have to pay to our authors, but I have to add some information etc. The holiday season put me behind.
I have a couple of organization spreadsheets I need to update. ISBN tracker, link tracker, and upload tracker. I think I’m missing one or two, but this should be me to 3pm where I will have just realized I’m still in my PJ’s and have not eaten anything at all! Not even a Bon Bon (because you know that’s all I do is sit around and eat Bon Bon’s).
I will then jump in the shower and race off to go get my son at the 9th grade building where the Private School drops him off. Tomorrow we have an orthodontist appointment, but they have internet, so I will catch up on email (maybe up to 10 or 12 by now) and perhaps send a few tweets since I probably haven’t done anything “social” yet.
And since it’s Wednesday, it’s a hockey night…across town...so I will go get my truck washed and go mega grocery shopping while son is at rink since not enough time to really go home.
Meanwhile, the other teenager will have called wondering what is for dinner, which I will have forgotten and he and DH will have to suffer through either leftovers or maybe eggs or waffles. That’s pretty much what they live on. I will end up back home around 10pm where I will check email one final time, cross off what got done, and write what still needs doing and then pass out while watching some thing weird on TV since I don’t have control of the remote in the bedroom….hey, as long as Siri isn’t there, life is good.
And there you have it. A typical day in the glamorous life….
