A NEW JOB!

I am excited, happy and honored to announce that J. Ellen Smith, Publisher of Champagne books recently offered me the position of Acquisitions Editor, to which I immediately said “Yes!” I’ve been reading proposals like mad and yesterday, I got to write my first acceptance letter to an author I know everyone is going to be happy to see on the Champagne Authors’ List. I’m not giving away her name at this point until I know if she’s willing to accept the contract, but she is extremely talented, has written an amazingly well-composed and fascinating mainstream novel, which I gobbled up and then looked around for more… and there are more, every day, it seems, more. This is one of the most wonderful, rewarding jobs I have taken on. If your book is in my TBR stack, I’ll get to it. Luckily, I’m a fast reader and we’re working on clearing up our backlog of submissions. If you haven’t heard from Champagne yet, don’t despair. Yours could be the next book I read and fall in love with.
Another important task in my new world is to write revision letters to authors whose submissions show great potential, but may be in need of a bit of assistance in getting their point across, and making their book more publishable. When I make suggestions, I do so from the point of view not only as an reader of many genres, but an editor who has, over the years, seen what works and what does not. I realize not all my suggestions will be accepted by every author, because we each have our own vision of the book we’ve written. I try to remember at all times that interfering with an author’s “voice” can irrevocably damage a book. I know this, because it’s been done to me when an editor had an entirely different idea of what my book should be about and attempted to force major changes that simply did not work for me. Hence, while I make suggestions for revisions, I do it with care and I hope, kindness, always remaining alert to the fact that it’s the author’s name on the cover of that book, not mine.
I’ve also recently read K.M. Tolan’s new book, Defiant Dancer, due out later this year, and enjoyed it immensely. He’s another talented author and I’m proud to say I’m now his editor. I’m glad my new responsibilities won’t keep me from editing the books from authors already on my list, and hope they’ll keep them coming because apart from writing, reading, and boating, editing is one of my passions.
I expect I’ll collect new authors along the way, too, because Heaven forbid I should be without interesting work that involves me almost to the point of not slipping into my kayak in each new anchorage for a paddle around the point to see what I can find. Most of the time, what I see is more clear blue ocean, more mountains, more trees of varying shades of green, but there’s always the chance of meeting up with a pod of white-sided dolphins. Such adventures are something like opening a new book…

I'M FOR A 'BE KIND TO AUTHOR' DAY

According to the people who study such things, authors suffer from all kinds of feelings of inadequacy. We are a bit neurotic, convinced our work is never good enough, that no one will ever read it, buy, enjoy it. You name it, we feel it. Publisher and agent rejections go a long way to add to that feeling.

To top that off, writing is by nature a very lonely occupation. You and the keyboard are the only ones who communicate while you are writing. Okay, the computer screen is also part of the picture. I've never learned to write and talk to someone at the same time. I can't keep my thoughts together if I'm thinking about my characters and trying to carry on a conversation. I can't do it and at this time, I don't know anyone else who can.

So, I'd like to see a 'Be kind to Author' day. Why not? We have Mother's day, Father's day, Thanksgiving, Secretary's day, May day, Valentine's day and so on. Legislators in many countries declare a day for this or that.

But, think about it. There are thousands upon thousands of books. Take a look at one of the e-books stores. But without authors there would be no books, no history, no books of comedy, no movies, no TV sit-coms and where would the young cook be without a handy cookbook. Just think of all the how-to books and books on psychology you see in a bookstore. We need books.

Yep! Authors deserve a day just for us. What do you think of the idea, whether you write and read, or just read? And yes, authors are reader too. So share you thoughts.

Allison Knight
"Battlesong" is coming in August

Something Stinks

Last month I mentioned how much I enjoy spending time on my deck writing and enjoying the view.

Well there is a downside to all that nature and I discovered it a few weeks ago. I came downstairs one morning to take the dog for a walk and noticed that the new sod I had laid under the deck had been rolled up. From the lingering odor I guessed that a skunk had been our nocturnal visitor. It was probably looking for food and rolling up our sod to eat the grubs underneath seemed like easy pickings - pun intended.

Over the next few nights I tried numerous tactics that I found while searching on the internet. Unlike the time when we lost my son's hamster, these didn't work. Every night I tried something new - cayenne pepper, hot chili pepper flakes, and finally moth balls. Needless to say my wife was not impressed by the resultant mess. Our lawn was a mishmash of red, green and white. And the shunk was still enjoying eating at Chez Boultbee.

Finally I went 'high tech'. I headed to Canadian Tire and picked up 'The Scarecrow'. No, this is not an actual scarecrow but a motion activated sprinkler. You hook it up to the hose, add a 9-volt battery, set the sensitivity and stand back. Literally. If you don't stay out of sensor range, you are liable to get soaked, as has happened to me numerous times, including last night.

The end result? Success. Now when I go down in the morning the lawn is wet but intact. Occasionally we'll still smell that distinct scent so the skunk is still around but as long as it stays off my lawn I'm a happy man.

This little 'war' and a busy month slowed down my writing a little but I still made some progress. Here is my last stat.

62000 / 80000

Next month I'll probably be posting about my new release, a novella called Venus Inferno. It should be released mid-July and I'm expecting edits and cover art any day now.

Until then.

David

Posted by David Boultbee

Quilting and the Art of Writing

I love the artistry of quilts. The designs often tell a story or give us a glimpse into the person who created the quilt. Quilting demands a flare for creativity, imagination, focus, the ability to see the finished product in the scraps and pieces strewn on a table. I'm lucky I can sew on a button, so I don't know this first-hand. But in talking to people who do quilting, I've come to know that this is a labor of love and patience. Not unlike writing a novel.

I did a little research on the steps to creating a quilt. I was astonished by the similarities with the steps to writing a novel. I found one definition of the process of quilting as the joining of two or more layers of material to make a thicker padded material. A novel is written in layers—beginning, middle, and end—plot and sub-plot. One note that surprised me is that quilts are usually completed by starting in the middle and working your way out to the edges. Some of us write that way. We know the heart of the story and we work from there, fleshing it out, developing our characters, finding the true starting point.

You need the proper equipment to start your quilt, starting with a pattern—a synopsis of your plot or story line. For quilting, you need needles and thread. It is recommended you use a strong thread. In writing, you need a strong plot thread to tie your story together from beginning to end.

Then there are your two layers of fabric for the top and bottom, and your filler. The top layer should be a smooth medium-weight fabric. Your story must be smooth, seamless, drawing the reader in and through to the end. The bottom layer of the quilt must not be of a slippery fabric that will slide. The last chapters of your book should be solid, bringing your story together, tying up the loose ends, and resolving the conflicts.

A quilt requires filling—batting or insulating material. This is stuff that provides warmth and gives the quilt shape and texture and fullness. The middle of a book should do the same thing—provide the arc of the story, bring the reader to the height of tension and the story to its fullness.

The filling has to be tacked between the top and bottom layers. Good tacking ensures an even, unpuckered finish on a quilt. This made me think of the process of revising a manuscript, once you've done your first draft. This is where you put in the final stitches to pull it together.

Lastly, the quilter finishes off the edging and the border. We writers engage in the editing process for the final touches on our manuscript. Our words are then bound between an artist's cover. And we have a book.

Speaking of books, perhaps you'd like to snuggle down with my latest novel, Shooting into the Sun. It's guaranteed to warm your heart. Visit my website to read an excerpt: http://www.lindarettstatt.com/ and click on the cover below to buy the book.

"Never shoot into the sun"--this was the last rule of photography Rylee Morgan's father taught her, right before he got into his car and drove out of her life. This and other rules she had learned had made Rylee a talented and sought after nature photographer. The rules she developed for life, however, had not served her so well. Instead, they left her alone and guarded.

Available now from Champagne Books.

Linda Rettstatt

Defiant Dancer

Rulers try to suppress her. Humans want her dead, and a powerful male intends to possess her no matter the cost. They should have known better.

The third novel in my "Dancer" series - Defiant Dancer, has been accepted for publication by Champagne Books. Now begins the fun process of final editing, and the ever-exciting cover art. This novel had an odd start - it really wasn't supposed to have happened. Events and story lines from the previous two novels, however, demanded far more than the climactic finish to the series a third and final book would entail.

Characters have lives of their own, and it was the overwhelming need to see to these story lines that drove me to write Defiant Dancer. It wasn't too hard to wrap the beginning (and ending) friendships within a central theme - the humans coming back to my heroine's world. You get to see both the good and bad side of our race with the re-introduction of humans from both Blade Dancer and Rogue Dancer. Not all the bad guys are human, either, as I introduce some vicious little homegrown twists. One of the benefits of writing a series is that you can fall back on a rich library of people, events, and locations.

Ah, locations! Part of the fun is taking my readers to new areas, and I continue this trend in full measure by taking everyone to the tip of Dessa's southern hemisphere where exist sunken cities and towering trees. Those following Mikial's Ipper training (for the uninitiated, this is one of the spookiest of the Qurl races) will get to see far deeper into what Blade Dancer initially portrayed as a frivolous people not to be taken seriously. First impressions are quite deceiving with that sect.

The cover art will reflect changes in venue - I drew the talents of Amanda Kesley again, and am hoping for an aquatic theme this time.

Those demanding more of the mainstays of science fiction will not be disappointed, either. Space battles, anyone? I have also come to realize that I have quite the following with the fairer sex, and acknowledge this by adding in a bit more romance this time. Of all my novels, this one probably edges closer to the SF/Romance genre than the other two, but don't worry if you are an action type. Mikial couldn't stay out of serious trouble if she wanted to.

I also follow relationships of the secondary characters closely - and many have their own story arcs. The historic cultural changes are also addressed, and provide a secondary theme as well. Yes, things get complicated as you go along, but in truth each of these "Dancer" novels is actually a single story told across multiple segments. It will be up to the skills of Judy Gill, my new editor, to help me keep things in line.

So when is this coming out? As with all my novels so far, it will probably be the first week in December. I will open the web page up a month earlier, and feature the usual first chapter excerpt.

And all through this I am already writing the final book in Mikial's life: Battle Dancer. Getting like an assembly line around here (grin).

Kerry

www.kmtolan.com

Can't DrinK Champagne

I happen to be allergic to sulfites and they're in all wines. Champsgne is a wine. Nuff said. But luckily Chmampagne Books doesn't have even a smidgeon of sulfites and so I've found a happy home here.
Since at the moment I'm having some eye problems it'll be awhile before I can blog on a regular basis, I wanted to let y'all know I'm alive and well. After a couple of avastin shots in each eyes and I'll be back,sharper than evver--at least vision-wise.
One more alert: Champagne Books has a new series called IN THE CARDS, where a Tarot card, found accidebtally, affects the lives of the main characters. Since I have the first book in the series, LADY LUCK, that's just been edited, my book may before I'm back with improved eyesight and another topic. Which card does my story use? The Wheel Of Fortune...

THE BATTLE (Epilogue) - 6. The overall impact

Michael W. Davis

Davisstories.com

“The Battle” is a series of articles related to my real life trip through a minefield to survive cancer. My purpose is to share my thoughts in the hope others may find counsel in the journey.

I began this series 6 months ago in the hope it would provide counsel to others forced to take a similar journey. If one person found it helpful, it was worth it. In this, my final post, I will attempt to encapsulate the impact cancer has made on my world.

Emotions – Forget for the moment the physical pain, or the side affects from the treatments (below). The impact to our emotions was extreme. I would expect all families suffer that same chaos once the word Cancer enters their daily vocabulary. During the first three weeks, before we knew the extent of the cancer, neither my wife nor I sleep through an uninterrupted night. We likely got 3 or 4 hours of sleep a day. After we learned the truth, and before the painful treatments begin, all we did, other than spend several hours a day in medical facilities was to sleep, especially my wife. As a writer, I openly express how I feel without reservation, yet that is not her way. She held things inside, until finally it consumed all her energy and she crashed every hour we were at home. We’ve discussed this with close friends who have also experienced such medical difficulties. They too would crash when they got home each day after treatments. Course, it could meant we’re just a bunch of wussies (g). We also revealed to each other the headaches we had been experiencing that magically disappeared after we learned it was solvable (wonder why).

Frustration – Once we knew the truth, that there was a demon eating away at my throat, week after week without treatments frustrated the hell out of us, but especially me. We realized the radiation firing into my flesh would gradually build to a mind blowing level of pain. Problem is, until they started, the cure could not begin. Yet each time I visited one doctor, another specialist or test or preventive measure was added to the list I had to see or do or take before the treatments could start. Again, my nights became sleepless. Finally, four weeks after I was diagnosed, the treatments began.

Taste – As a result of the radiation treatments that close to my face, the glands that produce saliva were damaged, and I knew that would be a side affect going in. By month two of radiation I had no taste from food, at all, zero. They say that by month six, some will return but by 12 months it will level off and always remain at some diminished level.

Teeth – The radiation reaps big time damage on your teeth. The dental structure in your jaw is weakened because the blood network is destroyed and you become extremely susceptible to tooth/gum problems. For the rest of my life, I have to wear a double mouth piece dipped with fluoride solution for 15 minutes each day.

Voice – At this moment, my voice is roughly 20% of its capacity, say a year ago. In fact, if you go to my website (Davisstories.com) and click on the “Video Trailer” button, you can play one of my video’s that was created just as I was beginning to experience an affect from the tumor on my vocal cords. That gravelly echo sound is the result of the cancer, only I didn’t know it. Will this improve? We have to wait and see.

Financial – There will be a lifetime cost from the cancer seeing that I am now forced to re-enter the halls of the medical profession about four times a year forever. Considering that prior to this event, I saw the doctor about once every three years, that’s at least a ten fold increase for maintenance of my health. In terms of out of pocket cost, I have maintained records of our personal expenditures and in this year I estimate we will have spend about 20 grand out of pocket. I estimate the insurance company will spend about 100 to 120 grand.

Outlook – I’ve always been an upbeat guy with positive perspective. Yet I’ll admit the political events in the last year, the gradual decline of out nation, the manipulation of our democracy by progressive elements, the pushing of our country into financial collapse by the arrogance of our leaders; all had taken a toll on my attitude. My appreciation of life, the opportunities given to me by the real big guy had turned dark. After this mind blowing last four months, all those shadows have been vanquished from my spirit and I don’t think they will return. I have stopped procrastination of all the things I had planned to do. Some may see this awakening as contrived or temporary, but I doubt those that have shared a similar experience would adapt that interpretation. You truly do gain a refreshed perspective of your life. The things I wanted to do for others are in the works and will be done. The trips with friends and family are in place and will be done. Should it have taken such an event to wake me up? Hell no, but it did and I am thankful to the real big guy for the wake up call. I just don’t have time in my day for negative vibes anymore.

The chains - I’ve also noticed a strange urge I never experienced before. Each time I see a young man or woman smoking, I fight the instinct to grab them around the collar and scream in their face, “STOP before it’s too late! Do you realize what you’re doing to your body, what you’re going to experience downstream? Stop assuming you’re immune, that you’re the one it won’t get.” But I fight it and just shake my head. No one will listen until it happens to them or someone they truly love. It’s funny how you can dip a rose in a vat of liquid nitrogen, whack it on the counter and see it shatter into a dozen pieces, then warn a person, “Don’t stick you hand in there” and they won’t. Yet, you can show people pictures, put warnings on cigarettes, but they ignore it. Maybe hospitals should offer day tours through the Oncology treatment and testing centers. Let smokers see how damn many people are in there, suffering, because they ignored the truth. Problem is, I doubt anyone would take the tour. I know I was overwhelmed with the massive numbers of people in the facility being treated for smoker’s cancer. People just don’t want to deal with that ugly reality until it’s too late. Like many things in human nature, we tend to ignore what we don’t want to see, including me. I guess that’s another part of my penitence for ignoring the warnings myself. Like Jacob Marley, those that survive smokers’ cancer must carry the chains of watching others turn a blind eye and knowing there is nothing you can do to stop their self destructive behavior.

The mindset – As I mentioned earlier, once the word comes forth, you stagger through each day like you’ve been hit by a bat. Even after you learn the “treatability,” your mind still operates in a fog. Your entire world, all your thoughts center on the flurry of medical stuff transpiring around you. This is not good. For your health and recovery, you must maintain some semblance of a normal existence or you will become depressed and those emotions feed on themselves. But how can you push out all those negative images, and fears, and pain? You can’t totally. What you can do is lay out in you’re mind a schedule from start to finish. Each day you cross off one more increment of time. I also became effective in most situations at detaching from my surroundings. Each treatment or test or prod session, I would send my thoughts elsewhere. As a writer, I created scenes for a new story, or theorized a new blog post, or a new article to this series. If not a writer, find something you enjoy in your life and mentally focus on that image above all else. I found this very helpful. If you do this “refocusing” away from what’s happening to your body, you will get through it, because you have too. To survive, you will endure the momentary hell for you family, your children, your mate and yourself. This refocusing did not work for me when the “burn pain” became so damn acute, no amount of mental power could redirect my imaging. At those points, I tried to sleep every minute I could, take some pain killers, and live on protein drinks, but near the last ten days I just curled on the couch, closed my eyes and disappeared I know not where. One final thought – in suffering, always look, not where you are, but where you will be after the treatments subside.

I have enjoyed sharing this series of articles and hope that some have found them helpful. Anyone wishing to interact on the topic, or share your experience, you can contact me at General@Davisstories.com and I leave one final thought. Virtually all the cancer patients I meant in the center were at advanced stage 3 or stage 4. Why? Because of the human tendency of denial. Each waited a year or more (including me) before having a recurring pain, headache, hoarse throat, etc checked out. In each case, it extended the level of suffering they had to endure, and the likelihood of success. Please don't repeat our mistake.

Layers

I went to a great writing workshop on the weekend (on those oh-so-important opening pages). I sat beside a woman who had taken the same workshop years ago. At the end of the meeting, we discussed what we learned. The woman said that she loved the workshop the first time. She got so much out of it. Then she said something interesting. She said that she loved the workshop as much the second time and she got very different things out of it.

I find that's true of the great romance novels. I can read a brilliantly written romance novel at one stage of my life and certain scenes or phrases will stick with me. At another stage of my life, I can read it again and other scenes will make me laugh or cry or otherwise feel.

That is what I call layers. I try to write my own stories with different layers. The entertainment-only reader can read it and 'get' the basic story. The deeper reader can read it and 'get' the symbolism and the overreaching story arc. I know I've achieved my goal when I receive email from both types of readers.



$

Every month, Kimber Chin gives away her favorite romance eBook read the month before. To enter, visit http://businessromance.com/

LUCK

Frank Sinatra used to sing "Luck Be A Lady." Luck seldom is. When the Viking got in contact with me again, after we'd spent most of our lives apart, luck gave us a second chance at getting it right. He lived in Carson City, Nevada and I lived in Cornwll-on-Hudson, NY, but we discovered on the same weekend in June we'd be visting relatives in lower Michigam on the same weekend and only forty miles apart. Since he'd been divorced for eight years and I wsa a widow, we agreed to meet where I was ataying at one of my niece's. We both decided to try again and so I visited him in Nevada. That was sixteen years ago and we're still together, so luck was definitely a lady to us. I wound up selling the NY house and living in NV. Gambling, right? Slots and poker and backjack--all that--which Carson City had in their casinos, grocery stores, laundromats, etc. Neither of us gambles--except in our case, on each other. We ate in the casinos often--great low cost food, but never dropped more than five bucks in any slots and and often nothing. Neither did we play cards. So our luck while in NV was that we were immune, at least with monsy, to gambling's lure.
In other ways, I do gamble. One of my email lists is the Grande Dames, made up of women of a "certain age," all of us authors. One of us is an expert Tarot Card reader and suggested a series with each of us using a Tarot card to influence the plot I liked the idea, and, years later, raised it again. This time we each chose a card and did a synopsis. I volunteered to coordinate the series and query publishers. Ellen, at Champagne, was receptive to the idea, even naming it "In The Cards." So, having chosen the Wheel Of Fortune as my card, I remembered Ol' Blue Eyes' song and titled my story Lady Luck. I wrote it, sending it to Ellen with a short synopsis and she liked it. So mine turned out to be the first story in the series. Since my edits are now done and I'm waiting for the galley, I assume the cover will soon pop up and the release date won't be far off. Which is good news for the othere whose mss. for In The Cards Series have been accepted. We all cosaider ourselves lucky.
My story is set aboarad a gambling ship that sails from a port in Florida for a three day cruise to the Bahamas, Actually, I was lucky enough to have such a cruise free as a bonus when I bought a time share at Orlando. Since sold--even luckier. The hero is a PI hired by a casino group to find out who is rigging slots for payoffs. The heroine, a CPA, is accompanyimg her great-aunt so the older woman can dbe sure of having a bridge partner on the cruise. Naturally there's also a villain--and he's not the slots-rigger.
So, considering I've recoverd from aspirating that pill last month, perhaps I've used up all my luck for the year. I sure hope not. Jane

Cover art for Adrian's Angel

One of the most exciting things about writing and drawing closer to the release date is getting the cover art. I've been happy with every cover Champagne artists have supplied and my latest is no exception--it's gorgeous!!

The time-travel novel (Salem 1692-1996-2006) will be available in August. Here's a blurb:

Saying goodbye to old ghost isn't easy, especially when Adrian Birichino comes face to face with a woman twenty years won't allow him to forget.

Plagued by baffling circumstances surrounding the loss of his childhood sweetheart, Adrian Birichino has spent the last twenty years trying to forget. When fate forces him to return to the town he loathes, his pervasive nightmares turn alarmingly real as a luminous angel steps out of thin air, inducing an accident that leaves his life in familiar hands. Once Adrian hears her demented ramblings regarding who she is and where she's from, will he agree to help her...or commit himself to an asylum once and for all? But if she's just a figment of his imagination, how had she managed to leave behind tangible evidence of her existence?

Having been catapulted to a sinister spot in time, Riley Gail must find a way to convince Adrian she is real and living in the heart of the infamous witch-hunt…else resign herself to be immortalized in the pages of history as one of Salem’s accused forevermore.

Until next time, happy reading/writing/editing!
Angie

http://www.angelaashtonbooks.com/
http://www.champagnebooks.com/
Available now in both print & ebook:
Amulet of Fate
Once A Rebel
Corsair Cove

I Smell A Story

When I write about different locations, I must remind myself to include smells as well as sights. We often describe odours in bars, houses, flower shops and on people. The delicate smell of a special perfume or comfort food can trigger memories, but cities and towns also have a their own brand of olfactory uniqueness.

The lovely old city of Saint John, New Brunswick smells like hot road tar mixed with sea salt because of the proximity of the oil refineries along the Bay of Fundy. When I smell tar, I go back to the days when I was a kid, wandering with my cousins in search of mischief. I see in my mind's eye the multicoloured wooden houses with white trim. I remember steep hills leading down to the bay.

Northern Ontario smells like wood smoke and pine needles. It will always remind me of camping and warm rocks.

My husband says Toronto smelled like rising dough when he was a kid, due to the flour and sugar mills along the shores of Lake Ontario.

Then there were the little lumber towns in northern Quebec. We lived in Chandler on the Gaspé Peninsula when I was seven years old. It always seemed to smell like an enormous fart.

From a WIP: "The Chandler pulp and paper mill on the west side of town served up its usual sulphuric stink with extra sauce on the day JC Bernard decided to kidnap his best friend Alphonse."

Newmarket doesn't have many distinctive odours, except perhaps the smell of newly cut grass on a summer day, or lilacs. Each season brings its own memorable smells.

What does your town smell like? Do any smells take you back to a place you once lived?

- Sandra Cormier


Image: A view of Saint John from Martello Tower

A Daily Log-Book of a Champagne Editor

0900, awake, but not functioning well.
0910, into kitchen dragging blankie, thumb still in mouth, turn on coffee maker, kiss husband on way past, miss, connect instead with dog. Dog appreciates the affection, husband fails to notice trajectory error.
0923, fortified by shower followed by one gulp of coffee, lolling in recliner with laptop on laptop tray on lap (yeah, I know, where else should either be, but it’s still early and I’m going for clarity here).
0924 - 0953, email program open, download a bunch of interesting stuff, drink more coffee while waiting. For those of you who live other than in the wilderness, there is this odd, archaic system known as “dial-up” connection to the internet. It means you wait. And wait. And wait and tie up the telephone line and wait and… Hey, there it is! My mail, and only seventeen ads for Viagra, twenty-two for Cialis, thirteen for enlarging the penis I don’t have, have never wanted, and why the hell can’t these idiots realize that a person named “Judy” is unlikely to require penis enlargement? (Except maybe to offer as a prize in a contest, except few men enter my contests and the one I know most intimately doesn’t require it, so I can’t offer it to him as a father’s day gift.) There are only two today from that prince in Nairobi who wants to share his inheritance with me, forty-five jokes, each of which have been forwarded forty-five times, and a few from friends I really like to hear from. Those, I read, reply to, and continue.
1022, Ah, the meat of the day! A synopsis and three chapters attached to a very polite email stating that the publisher, who has a hole to fill in next November’s schedule, needs a response by—what’s that?—mid-afternoon tomorrow at the latest? Oh. EDT. That makes a difference. Gives me a little longer and—oh no it doesn’t! Mid-afternoon in New York and Toronto, both of which have styled themselves as the hub of the universe, comes at mid-morning for me. No wonder everything’s so wacky in our world. A universe spinning around two hubs? Jeeze! Think about it. What if New York is right-handed and Toronto left-handed and they’re spinning in opposite directions. Has everyone out there ever seen an eggbeater in action? We now have an adequate explanation for the Theory of Chaos! I am so glad to have that settled I take a break and cook myself some breakfast.
1049, Begin reading synopsis. Hmm, not bad. There is a plot. A woman falls off her bicycle on the Stanley Park Seawall, Vancouver, BC, in 2011, bumps her head and wakes up lying on a cobblestone path in England with one of those strange bikes with a huge front wheel and an itty-bitty back one. Okay, I like time travel just fine. Read on a little farther. No explanation as to how she was whisked not only back in time, but an entire continent and an ocean away. Magic? I like magic. Keep reading.
1136, Finish synopsis and sit frowning at the screen till it brings up the screensaver (pictures of my new baby grandson, totally fascinating), having learned that the hero is a shape-shifting lion from the zoo in Kew Gardens (Note to self: Is/was there a zoo in Kew Gardens?) who can only escape his lion form once a year for a 72 hour period. This has been going on for years and years. Because he’s a prince who was encorsceled, poor guy, by a wicked wizard, he requires a kiss from a true princess to allow him to remain in man-form for the rest of his days. The heroine is, of course, not a princess, coming from the West End of Vancouver, B.C. where there are only rare princess sightings. But she thinks he’s hot, and wants to help, so gets up on that ridiculous bike and, with Lion-man running along beside, pedals madly towards Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle, she’s not sure which one or where either is, but can only try because, she is, after all, a heroine. She gets arrested by the first Bobby she approaches for directions because in her snazzy pink and purple Lycra bike shorts and sports bra, she’s indecently exposed for the time and place she’s ended up. Lion-man pleads her case, explains his own predicament, and the kindly Bobby lets her go with a warning that she’d better clothe herself properly before she tries to get into Buckingham Palace. The Bobby is quite certain there are no real princesses in Windsor Castle.
The guards at the Palace are busy changing (but not into other forms since they are not shape-shifters), so Heroine and Lion-man manage to sneak in through a gate left accidentally ajar. They spend the next sixty-nine hours falling in love while trying in vain to find a real princess wandering the grounds; having narrow escapes from vigilant security forces; hiding out in a storm sewer the first night, where they make stormy love because the Lion-man isn’t really into getting it on with the large, bad-tempered lioness the zookeepers have provided for him (Ed. Note: Bet you never knew zookeepers were procurers, did you?) They manage another love scene in the center of a really intimidating maze, finally find their way out of that and, starving by now, sneak into the royal family’s private hothouse where they gorge themselves on kiwis (the kind that grow on vines, not the kind that come from New Zealand complete with cute accent), grapes, big, fresh peaches, and the gardener’s lunch, which they find in a brown bag in a back room. It consists of a large baked potato, cold, smeared with lard, cold, a large, sawdust-filled sausage, cold, two thick slices of only slightly moldy cheese and a half a loaf of bread, similarly moldy. But they’re hungry.
As the hours tick by leading up to the time when Lion-man will revert to lion form, the sad lovers hide in a gazebo, making love on a narrow, uncomfortable bench, glad to be out of the rain, their lovemaking enhanced by the delicious chance of getting caught. At hour seventy-one, they sneak out of the palace grounds, return to the zoo and say their sorrowful farewell with one last embrace and a kiss that curls their toes. Standing with her hand in Lion-man’s, Heroine counts down the seconds on her digital watch… ten, nine, eight and so on, and gets to zero. To her amazement, her Lion-man is still a man. Together, they watch the seconds flick by, counting up this time, seven, eight, nine and so on until it’s fifteen whole minutes past the time when he should have reverted, and hasn’t. It is not until then she realizes that somewhere, sometime in the past, way, way, way back when those ridiculous bikes were in fashion, she must have been fathered by a wayward king.
Oh joy! Oh glorious day! Their love has made him what he’s always wanted to be, a real man, a prince again, for the rest of time, and has proved to her what she’s always suspected—she’s a little bit above the normal, run-of-the mill gals in her critique group. But wait... How is she supposed to get home again? What is the zookeeper going to do when he finds himself short one lion? Not only that, the zoo is filling up now with school children in their sweet little uniforms, each child pointing and gasping aloud at the naked man and the woman in weird clothing. OMG, our protags. have to get out of there. Somehow. Anyhow! Lion-man speaks a few low, growling words and Blibbity-blam! there’s a wizard, in a pointy hat with a cloak showing stars and crescent moons wearing an evil grin. He promises to help them out of their predicament by turning Lion-man back into a lion, and Heroine into a lioness and does so just as the Bobby arrives, called by a deeply affronted teacher of the goggling, giggling children.
In the lion cage, Heroine, now Lion-woman, is forced to fight the bad-tempered lioness for her lover. With great difficulty and determination mixed with guile, she prevails, and the wizard promises them that if they provide him with a pair of identical twin lion cubs, he will return both of them to human form and let them live out their days wherever and whenever they choose with a bank account to their liking.
Lion-woman/Heroine, is willing to willing to eat raw, bloody haunches of dead cows, willing to carry and bear two little furry infants, willing to live in a cage for however long the gestation period is for lions, willing make any sacrifice necessary for a future with her prince.
2141, Still staring a screen saver, still thinking, still unable to decide on the basis of the synopsis.
2140, Remembering I’ve forgotten to eat both lunch and dinner, go scrounge in fridge for leftovers, cobble together hash made from whatever’s available, sit down and glare at husband who says “What are you eating? Your steak and French bread are in the oven, the salad’s in the wine fridge. I figured you’d look there first. I left that stuff for the dog. Didn’t you hear me call you when dinner was ready?” Response: “Nope.” We do great dialogue in our house when I’m working.
2210, Read Chapter One. Well written.
2348, Finish reading other two chapters. Also well written; no typos, no misspellings, no dangling modifiers. Notice husband has disappeared. Yup, I do believe in magic.
2453, Finish second read, scan notes, make a few more, all positive.
0012, Play one game of Spider Two Suits. Well, all right, three of four, one of Backbone, a few of Easthaven, all the while thinking about the three chapters and synopsis I recently read.
0216, Close up computer.
0224, Go to bed, listen to husband and dog snore; fall asleep at unknown time.
0900, Awake, but not functioning well.
0910, Into kitchen dragging blankie, thumb still in mouth, turn on coffee maker, wait in vain for it to start gurgling. Nothing.
0913, Yell “Where’s my coffee?” Learn it was not prepared because I’d ignored dinner over which husband had slaved previous evening.
0915, Put on kettle.
0920, Make cup of ghastly instant coffee, slam kitchen door.
0921, Flop into recliner, open computer and mail program, still mad at husband.
0922, Begin note publisher: “Have read the attached. The plot is well-planned, has plenty of excitement and action, is believable, and the writing free of most common beginner errors. The dialogue sparkles. Despite that, I must recommend immediate rejection for the following reasons:
1. The author has not done enough research. e.g. Kiwi fruit had not been developed at the time of those funny-looking bikes. (At least, I don’t think so. Could be wrong, but probably most other readers wouldn’t think so either, and I don’t have the inclination to Google it because I’m mad at my husband and just want to sulk and paint my toenails).
2. The author, in the synopsis, used not one, but two dangling modifiers in the same sentence, suggesting an inattention to detail that would likely make further editing a great deal of work. As you well know, editors have more important jobs—see “toenails” above—than fixing up awkward sentences, and this author wrote “…pointy hat with a cloak showing stars and crescent moons wearing an evil grin.” Neither the pointy hat nor the stars and crescent moons were wearing an evil grin. Doesn’t matter it was only in synopsis. It’s an indication there might be other such errors in the manuscript.
3. I’m mad at my husband.
0924, Click “send” on rejection recommendation.
0926, Find next offering from publisher, dig right in.


Judy Griffith Gill has been writing professionally for more years than she cares to admit being alive, and editing other people’s work for somewhat less time. She edits freelance, and for Champagne Books, which she wants everyone to know is in neither New York nor Toronto, but if Calgary ever declares itself another hub of the universe, believes we’ll be in deeper trouble than we are now, universally speaking.

Her books are all romances of one sort of another, ranging from sweet, to sexy, to futuristic, fantasy, paranormal and erotica and often most of those in combination. Her latest erotica, Heated Dreams, is available in print or electronic format from www.carnalpssions.com a division of Champagne books. In addition to the books being sold at www.belgravehouse.com and www.awe-struck.net, she has three books up for sale on Amazon Kindle (The Dawning, Hidden Embers, and A Family Affair), and two on www.smashwords.com (Perfect Partners and Whispers on the Wind), with more expected on the latter site any day now.

She also wants authors to know she never recommends rejection of a proposal because she’s mad at her husband. In fact, she loves editing, is excited about every book she sees, expecting—and frequently finding—a new treasure to edit and enthusiastically recommend for publishing on the Champagne site.

For writing tips, visit www.jggbooks.com

LEGENDS DEBUCKED

As a historical romance author, I frequently spend a lot of time
pouring over information about famous authors and their works. So, here
are just a few facts I've garnered over the years. Or course, some
of the facts destroy their legends.

Let's start with Jane Austen. She and John F Kennedy, USA President,
had something in common. They both suffered from the same disease,
Addison's Disease.

Samuel Pepys wrote a detailed diary of the plague and fire of London,
but he also recorded, again in detail, the lives of England's aristocracy.
In fact, some of the details of his life and what was going on around him
was so damning, he kept his diary under lock and key. The diary was finally
published in 1835, but it wasn't until 1970 that it was translated completely.
Pepys had written a lot of the details in Spanish, Greek, French, Dutch, Italian, Latin and his own shorthand.

Did you know that Charles Dickens made half of his money from performing
readings of his own work? He died with a large estate, unusual for an
artist of the time. He claimed he had to support a wife he didn't like
and a mistress he did, (although few people knew about her). Another
interesting fact - Dickens, while he lived, was panned by the Times of
London. They scoffed claiming he was nothing but an entertainer, a
derogatory description at the time. When he died they honored him,
declaring him important enough to be bury in Westminster Abbey.

Finally, interesting facts about two ladies of history. Calamity Jane,
the subject of many a dime novel, was not what was depicted in those
stories. Oh, yes, she was a sharp shooter, but she was frequently drunk,
was probably never Wild Bill's lover, was arrested for disorderly conduct,
and could swear worse than the railroad workers and cowboys of the time.

I also found some startling information about Florence Nightingale, the
famous nurse. When she came home from the Crimean War she went to bed
and there she stayed for the next 54 years, over half her life, issuing
orders and accomplishing more than most people who are up and about.

And you never know when I just might use some of these strange facts in
another novel. Research is so enlightening!