As I mentioned in my last blog post, I have been re-editing my vampire slayer series. I'm back to book six. I've written about half of book seven, but unhappy with where it was going, I left it. I imagine something similar will happen once I finish book six and give it another look. I know where I want to the story to go; I just can't seem to get there.
The problem with the series is that the first book isn't the best. There is a lot of world building and character development that had to occur, and that makes the story drag at times. With that out of the way, the other books are action-packed. Fluffy has often said that if the series started with book two, it would be better. Unfortunately, without book one, nothing else makes sense. Other than this year's heavy-handed edit, I don't think there is much else I can do to fix it.
It has been a while since I sent out queries for it. I've heard the advice that often, you just have to shelve a project, maybe forever. It's hard to let go of something that you have worked on so hard and for so long. I could try sending out more queries for it. Maybe 4 years is long enough since the last round.
I think my publisher would publish it, but the problem with that is that they are a mainly ebook company. While that gets the book out there more quickly, it makes it more difficult for people to acquire paper copies of the book. I had dreams that a big-time publisher would go for something of mine. Maybe that dream is too big, or maybe I just haven't written the right book yet. I'd like to find an agent, but to get an agent, you have to have something they want. I think I have a product that readers want; I just can't find the right agent.
I have an epic romantic fantasy I've written. Several people (men) have read it. I think it has potential, but again, maybe it isn't marketable. I'm waiting for a bit more feedback before I send off queries for it.
For now, I'll keep editing and preparing a packet for job performance review. Sometimes, I have to remind myself that I'm not an author by profession but simply by love of doing it.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Long Time, No Write
With the new job and the move, I have been unable to do any writing beyond a quick Facebook post here and there. I still haven't restarted my research, and while that isn't the end of the world, it isn't good either. I'm still overwhelmed. Part of that is my car acting up. Part of it is that Spawn is taking only one nap a day. When he is up, I accomplish nothing in the way of work. When I go to work, I accomplish a few tasks but then end up chatting with someone, or several someones. This is good in that I am building friendships with my co-workers, but it is also frustrating because I never seem to get ahead.
I miss writing.
In an attempt to kickstart myself, I have been editing my vampire slayer series. I have put my heart and soul into it, and I think I can probably find a home for it. It's just...I put so much of myself into it, that I'm afraid of someone mistreating it. What if the cover is terrible? What if it doesn't sell? What if it does sell and people send me hate mail because of how gory and graphic it is?
My first book isn't doing so hot, and that is mostly on my shoulders for doing a poor job of promoting it. Even if I had the time to so it, I'm not a "Toot-My-Own-Horn" kind of person. I'm not even that worried about sales. Anyone who gets into writing for money is an idiot. I just want people to read my stuff, and while I have a few friends who are willing to read it, that doesn't really get my work out there for many people to read. I just fell like, "Dammit, Jim! I'm a mathematician, not a marketing manager!"
It is almost as if I am afraid of failure and success.
I miss writing.
In an attempt to kickstart myself, I have been editing my vampire slayer series. I have put my heart and soul into it, and I think I can probably find a home for it. It's just...I put so much of myself into it, that I'm afraid of someone mistreating it. What if the cover is terrible? What if it doesn't sell? What if it does sell and people send me hate mail because of how gory and graphic it is?
My first book isn't doing so hot, and that is mostly on my shoulders for doing a poor job of promoting it. Even if I had the time to so it, I'm not a "Toot-My-Own-Horn" kind of person. I'm not even that worried about sales. Anyone who gets into writing for money is an idiot. I just want people to read my stuff, and while I have a few friends who are willing to read it, that doesn't really get my work out there for many people to read. I just fell like, "Dammit, Jim! I'm a mathematician, not a marketing manager!"
It is almost as if I am afraid of failure and success.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Overwhelming
May was a whirlwind, and June is looking to be a tornado.
In May, I interviewed for and accepted a job offer at Eastern Kentucky University. This means that my little family of three will uproot and move from Alabama. I'm sad to leave behind all my family (and Fluffy's family) and many friends, but this job looks to be a good fit for the direction my teaching career has taken. I'm excited to be working full-time again, and I am thrilled that we will be moving close to two sets of very dear friends.
Last week, Fluffy and I capped off this exciting month by driving (6 hours) to Kentucky to look for houses. Three and a half grueling days later, we found what we feel is the perfect house for us right now. It isn't that much larger than our current house, but it has 3 bedrooms and much more natural light. It's close to work and in a great neighborhood/area. I think we will be happy there for several years, provided I am happy at the job for as long.
The primary source of "wind" in May was the trip, nerves over finding a house, and issues we encountered when getting a loan. It is hard to get a loan when you don't have a current paycheck or a signed contract, but when such a thing happens, look local. Those homegrown banks are willing to help out folks that will be professionals in their towns.
With the choice of house and loan made, we move into June. I stand - arms crossed and foot tapping - waiting for my contract to arrive so I can sign it and send a copy to the bank. We can't close on the house without that. Hopefully the bit of nudging my department head gave the dean will help things along with the higher ups. Move your pens, people! I need in my house before school starts!
Adding to the stress of getting all the paperwork in order is the stress of trying to sell our house in Alabama. The house has been on the market since Monday around 10am, and we have already had 5 visits. Two more are scheduled for tomorrow. There is plenty of interest, but so far, no offers. And the folks who came tonight came in a downpour - definitely the worst time to show the house as they could see how horrible it gets when we have flashflood-type rain. These visits are rough on Spawn, as we have to pack him up and take him away, often screwing up the schedule to which he has grown accustomed. This makes him whiny, which makes Fluffy and I irritable and snippy. We are all sleepy and grumpy.
I just hope someone makes a good offer soon. That way, we can have July to just chill before August comes and brings with it the stress of a new job.
In May, I interviewed for and accepted a job offer at Eastern Kentucky University. This means that my little family of three will uproot and move from Alabama. I'm sad to leave behind all my family (and Fluffy's family) and many friends, but this job looks to be a good fit for the direction my teaching career has taken. I'm excited to be working full-time again, and I am thrilled that we will be moving close to two sets of very dear friends.
Last week, Fluffy and I capped off this exciting month by driving (6 hours) to Kentucky to look for houses. Three and a half grueling days later, we found what we feel is the perfect house for us right now. It isn't that much larger than our current house, but it has 3 bedrooms and much more natural light. It's close to work and in a great neighborhood/area. I think we will be happy there for several years, provided I am happy at the job for as long.
The primary source of "wind" in May was the trip, nerves over finding a house, and issues we encountered when getting a loan. It is hard to get a loan when you don't have a current paycheck or a signed contract, but when such a thing happens, look local. Those homegrown banks are willing to help out folks that will be professionals in their towns.
With the choice of house and loan made, we move into June. I stand - arms crossed and foot tapping - waiting for my contract to arrive so I can sign it and send a copy to the bank. We can't close on the house without that. Hopefully the bit of nudging my department head gave the dean will help things along with the higher ups. Move your pens, people! I need in my house before school starts!
Adding to the stress of getting all the paperwork in order is the stress of trying to sell our house in Alabama. The house has been on the market since Monday around 10am, and we have already had 5 visits. Two more are scheduled for tomorrow. There is plenty of interest, but so far, no offers. And the folks who came tonight came in a downpour - definitely the worst time to show the house as they could see how horrible it gets when we have flashflood-type rain. These visits are rough on Spawn, as we have to pack him up and take him away, often screwing up the schedule to which he has grown accustomed. This makes him whiny, which makes Fluffy and I irritable and snippy. We are all sleepy and grumpy.
I just hope someone makes a good offer soon. That way, we can have July to just chill before August comes and brings with it the stress of a new job.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
SMH
Why, oh why, must everything happen at once? First, my book came out. Then, I got a new job. Now, I'm trying to find a new house in a city seven hours away and sell my house. So much for a calm summer.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Peppered
It isn't unusual for me to have weird and/or violent dreams. I awaken - heart pounding in my neck and ears, terrified. Then, I remember who I am, where I am. The world settles. I get up, pee, get back in bed, get back to sleep. Only rarely do I have dreams that leave me shivering, almost in tears.
Last night, I had one.
Thinking over it, I know I've had dreams that were more frightening, more cringe-worthy than this one, but something about it left me so scared that I woke up Fluffy. I asked him to snuggle me and whimpered. It's one of the few times I made a point to adhere to an old wives' tale that states that if you tell a dream before breakfast, it will come true. I waited until after lunch.
Dream:
Zombie apocalypse. I am wandering around my parents' neighborhood - down in the part of the loop where their house is - carrying a bloodstained baseball bat. I am a survivor.
Fluffy is with me, as are a few other men. We have cleared the area of zombies, but they are so widespread, so pervasive, we are never safe anywhere for long. We know of a checkpoint nearby, and all but one of the men decide to drive one of the trucks that way in hopes of finding out what is happening.
The man and I stand by my parents' mailbox. The sky is gray, darkening as night approaches. A car comes up the drive from the neighbor's house, and a woman and a 6 year old child get out of it. She waves an automatic rifle and a radio.
"It doesn't look good," she says. "I hope they reach the outpost soon. From what I've heard, this area is so overpopulated, they think the only way to neutralize the situation is to nuke it. I just hope they come get us, or at least give us a chance to clear the radius."
It's dusk now, and the man has built a fire down by the hard woods at the edge of my parents' yard. I stand at the top of the yard, scanning the road, scanning how the patchy grass and moss slope at first sharply and then gently down, down to the campsite.
The child is playing, running. His mother isn't paying attention, and he picks up the rifle. The man tells him not to touch it, and the child drops it. The safety isn't on.
Bullets, rapid, everywhere. She's running to the child. They are screaming, screaming as their bodies are mutilated. I throw up my arm, as if that can protect me. Dirt, twigs, bits of moss pepper my legs, and when the pop-pop-pop stops, they are dead. Dead. Shredded,empty flesh bags - facedown in the leaves near the fire.
The man steps out from behind an oak he used as a shield. He looks at me. "My God." In the firelight, I see his Adam's apple bob. Then, I hear the moaning.
"I don't want to die," I say. "I don't want to be undead."
I awoke with tears in my throat and clawing for Fluffy's arm.
Last night, I had one.
Thinking over it, I know I've had dreams that were more frightening, more cringe-worthy than this one, but something about it left me so scared that I woke up Fluffy. I asked him to snuggle me and whimpered. It's one of the few times I made a point to adhere to an old wives' tale that states that if you tell a dream before breakfast, it will come true. I waited until after lunch.
Dream:
Zombie apocalypse. I am wandering around my parents' neighborhood - down in the part of the loop where their house is - carrying a bloodstained baseball bat. I am a survivor.
Fluffy is with me, as are a few other men. We have cleared the area of zombies, but they are so widespread, so pervasive, we are never safe anywhere for long. We know of a checkpoint nearby, and all but one of the men decide to drive one of the trucks that way in hopes of finding out what is happening.
The man and I stand by my parents' mailbox. The sky is gray, darkening as night approaches. A car comes up the drive from the neighbor's house, and a woman and a 6 year old child get out of it. She waves an automatic rifle and a radio.
"It doesn't look good," she says. "I hope they reach the outpost soon. From what I've heard, this area is so overpopulated, they think the only way to neutralize the situation is to nuke it. I just hope they come get us, or at least give us a chance to clear the radius."
It's dusk now, and the man has built a fire down by the hard woods at the edge of my parents' yard. I stand at the top of the yard, scanning the road, scanning how the patchy grass and moss slope at first sharply and then gently down, down to the campsite.
The child is playing, running. His mother isn't paying attention, and he picks up the rifle. The man tells him not to touch it, and the child drops it. The safety isn't on.
Bullets, rapid, everywhere. She's running to the child. They are screaming, screaming as their bodies are mutilated. I throw up my arm, as if that can protect me. Dirt, twigs, bits of moss pepper my legs, and when the pop-pop-pop stops, they are dead. Dead. Shredded,empty flesh bags - facedown in the leaves near the fire.
The man steps out from behind an oak he used as a shield. He looks at me. "My God." In the firelight, I see his Adam's apple bob. Then, I hear the moaning.
"I don't want to die," I say. "I don't want to be undead."
I awoke with tears in my throat and clawing for Fluffy's arm.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
AFK
I've been absent from the writing world for the last week or so. My blog and Facebook posts have been brief (and about my hatred for airports). I've spent little to no time on Twitter and little to no time editing and writing. Instead, I was preparing for a job interview.
Interviewing for an assistant professor position is quite different than any other interview experience I've had. These things last about 8 hours. It gives you and your prospective employers a chance to see how you are over a day. You see the campus, the town, meet possible fellow employees, chat with deans, etc. It gives you a chance to say the same things over and over to different people until your nerves are melted away by fatigue.
My committee seemed more interested in Fluffy's research than mine, but I have the skill set they want. One might say this job is perfect for me, for the direction my career has taken. I would be preparing future teachers -- something I've been doing for about 6 years now -- but with the opportunity, in fact the main goal, of designing courses for the master's program. This is extremely exciting! No more freshmen who couldn't make up their minds and just picked teaching. No more eye rolls and class time spent texting instead of actively involved. Small classes!! Tiny classes -- something I haven't encountered since I taught community college -- and a dean and department that keep classes small, no matter what the student population is.
On paper, I am a great candidate for this position. In person, I believe I come across as genuine and open. I don't make false promises or claim knowledge or experience I don't have, as those types of mistakes ALWAYS come back to haunt me.
I felt the interview was going swimmingly until the end of my research presentation. One of the professors asked me to draw a diagram. I drew it but then I couldn't figure out where all the arcs inside it should be. Without preparation, this type of figure takes some time, a good 10 or more minutes, to draw. After five minutes of staring at the paper, I called it quits. In hindsight, I realized I had the correct diagram and should've stopped. In hindsight, I realized I needed to start with a different version of the parent diagram in order to get a nice ending diagram.
The really annoying part is that none of them knew that I was right all along. I looked like a fool for no reason. Nothing to do about it though. I can't go back and say, "Oh, hey, I was right." When the committee chair picked me up to take me to dinner, he said the committee didn't feel that my mistake was a deal-breaker. That's a relief, but I still hate looking like an ass in front of twenty people AND on video!
I think the school interviewed three other people, and I was the last. I wasn't told where I was in the hierarchy of candidates, but the committee chair made it clear to me, several times, that I am the one he wants for this job. I would feel good about working there. I always feel good about teaching, but it will be a very nice change to work for a dean who appreciates his underlings.
Now, until I know more, back to writing and peddling my book!
Interviewing for an assistant professor position is quite different than any other interview experience I've had. These things last about 8 hours. It gives you and your prospective employers a chance to see how you are over a day. You see the campus, the town, meet possible fellow employees, chat with deans, etc. It gives you a chance to say the same things over and over to different people until your nerves are melted away by fatigue.
My committee seemed more interested in Fluffy's research than mine, but I have the skill set they want. One might say this job is perfect for me, for the direction my career has taken. I would be preparing future teachers -- something I've been doing for about 6 years now -- but with the opportunity, in fact the main goal, of designing courses for the master's program. This is extremely exciting! No more freshmen who couldn't make up their minds and just picked teaching. No more eye rolls and class time spent texting instead of actively involved. Small classes!! Tiny classes -- something I haven't encountered since I taught community college -- and a dean and department that keep classes small, no matter what the student population is.
On paper, I am a great candidate for this position. In person, I believe I come across as genuine and open. I don't make false promises or claim knowledge or experience I don't have, as those types of mistakes ALWAYS come back to haunt me.
I felt the interview was going swimmingly until the end of my research presentation. One of the professors asked me to draw a diagram. I drew it but then I couldn't figure out where all the arcs inside it should be. Without preparation, this type of figure takes some time, a good 10 or more minutes, to draw. After five minutes of staring at the paper, I called it quits. In hindsight, I realized I had the correct diagram and should've stopped. In hindsight, I realized I needed to start with a different version of the parent diagram in order to get a nice ending diagram.
The really annoying part is that none of them knew that I was right all along. I looked like a fool for no reason. Nothing to do about it though. I can't go back and say, "Oh, hey, I was right." When the committee chair picked me up to take me to dinner, he said the committee didn't feel that my mistake was a deal-breaker. That's a relief, but I still hate looking like an ass in front of twenty people AND on video!
I think the school interviewed three other people, and I was the last. I wasn't told where I was in the hierarchy of candidates, but the committee chair made it clear to me, several times, that I am the one he wants for this job. I would feel good about working there. I always feel good about teaching, but it will be a very nice change to work for a dean who appreciates his underlings.
Now, until I know more, back to writing and peddling my book!
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
E-book Away!
The e-book for Fairest is live today on Eternal Press' site. It should be up on Amazon and other retailers over the next few days. Print will be available on EP's site about 10 days from now and at other retailers a few weeks after that.
Squeeee! I'm a published author now.
Fairest can be purchased via this link.
Squeeee! I'm a published author now.
Fairest can be purchased via this link.
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