Author Archives: Kate Sparkes

About Kate Sparkes

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Kate Sparkes was born in Hamilton, Ontario, but now resides in Newfoundland, where she tries not to talk too much about the dragons she sees in the fog. She lives with five cats, two dogs, and just the right amount of humans. USA Today bestselling author of the Bound Trilogy (mature YA Fantasy), Into Elurien, and Vines and Vices. Writing dark, decadent, and deadly Urban Fantasy as Tanith Frost. www.katesparkes.com www.tanithfrost.com

Disregard That Last Post

That thing asking for thoughts on piracy? Forget it. Other people have written better posts on the topic, and when I disagree with them it’s all my own opinion, which at this point counts for very little.

So in a way that was a waste of 3,000 words today, but I feel like by drafting the posts, I understand my own feelings on the subject better. And words are words. Experience. Not a total loss. I needed a break from fiction, anyway 🙂

(But seriously, why can’t my fiction output be as efficient as my blog output?)

Melinda Atlas pointed out that it’s a topic that’s everywhere right now, and she’s right. Though I wanted to look at why people do it (and why I agree/disagree, and alternative approaches) rather than why OMG IT’S BAD STOP IT or SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING, there’s already enough of that out there. Instead, I’d like to compile a list of interesting reads on the topic, with your help.

First, Chuck Wendig (a post which Melinda also reminded me about). Why does he get to be first? Because I adore his blog. The man is brilliant. He has turned crass language into an art form, but he’s actually incredibly encouraging and far less of a hard-ass than some people on publishing topics. And HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MAGNIFICENT BEARD?!

Also, he covers a lot of issues I wanted to discuss with y’all, more succinctly and humorously than I could. So go read this. I agree completely that people have reasons for illegally downloading books, though I was going to add a few to the list. I also agree that artists deserve to get paid for their work, consistently, even if that’s a dream that just ain’t gonna come true.

Check out the comments, too, in which people address other arguments like the “it’s no worse than a library/borrowing a book” issue, and his Why I Hope You Don’t Pirate My Book post, which is beautiful.

Joe Konrath has some interesting thoughts on piracy, which basically boil down to “It’s not hurting you, you can’t stop it, quit bitching.” That’s what I mean about Chuck Wendig being less of a hard-ass. Mr Konrath says it better than that, but that’s the message I get. If you get angry when people speak plainly on topics you might disagree with, I’d skip that one. Really interesting if you don’t mind the attitude, though. I like him, myself, even if I disagree on some points. I do completely agree with him on why hard-ass laws and things like DRM do more harm than good, and the fact that piracy would be less of an issue if e-books were affordable* ($5.99 and under seems reasonable to me as both a reader and an author; if I won’t spend that on a book, I probably didn’t want it that badly. More than that, and I feel cheated).

There are more. Link away in the comments (I’ll spring you from spam jail if you’re legit), or share your own stories or thoughts on the topic (though you might also want to comment on the original posts, if applicable).

I want to know. I want to learn.

*Side note: the price-and-availability issue is one of the top reasons I’m self-publishing.


Wednesday Stuff: So Many Question Marks

ROW80:

I think my twitter feed says a lot about how writing went for me this week.

*Wrote. Ugh.

But…

I count this as proof that BICFOK (butt in chair, fingers on keys) works, even when distractions abound and motivation seems to be at a standstill. And the words, they are not all crap. True, I did have to write circles in that one scene with an uncooperative character, and ended up skipping it for now, but this is how the story gets written.

It also gets written with a lot of typos. I blame the excessive amounts of caffeine I’m consuming.

So there you go. Closing in on 30,ooo words now out of a 50,000 word month and a 100,000 word draft goal.

And speaking of those words that I hope are not all crap…

WIPpet Wednesday

For the thirteenth of NOVEMBER (jeez, I wrote October again!) I offer the last 13 paragraphs I wrote, as of right now (this being Tuesday at 11:10 am, because I’m on the ball this week). Aren’s hubris (that should be his middle name, I swear) has got him into trouble, and he’s getting schooled by a secretive warrior-monk-wise man type. We’ve all been there, right?

He released me, and I dropped to the floor, gasping.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

“I think a better question might be who you think you are, Aren. Powerful? Undoubtedly. Intelligent, though inexperienced, and blinded by pride. But what else? You’re not a prince anymore, or your brother’s tool. What will you use your magic for now? What would you be without it? Is there more to you?”

I ignored his questions. “How did you block me without magic?”

“Our potions master is quite good, isn’t he?” Phelun crouched on the floor in front of me. “You don’t understand as much about this world as you think you do. You have been given great gifts, and you squander them. You use them for selfish reasons, to harm and kill and destroy. Do you think this is what the Goddess intended when she blessed you so?”

He offered a hand, and I ignored it, instead pushing myself up from the floor by pressing my back against the door and forcing my legs to straighten.

“I don’t know. Was it her plan for my father and his father before him to plan their marriages to produce the strongest children? Was she at work in his bedroom when I was conceived, or Severn? And where was she when my father and my oldest brother turned me into what I am? It seems she was absent when my mother died, when my caretakers were killed, when I lost the only friends I’d ever had. Did she expect me to rise from the cesspool of hate and mistrust I was born into, to turn my back on the advantages of belonging to the wealthiest and most influential family in the world? To betray them for a deity who’s never given a shit about me?”

“You did betray your family, in the end.”

“Not for her. You said yourself that the magic I use is dark, and not her will. And yet you also say it’s a gift from her. Which is it?”

He stayed where he was, crouched at my feet. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I don’t believe she would have sent you to us if you were beyond redemption, or if I couldn’t help you.”

“So you believe you’ve done good here?”

“Perhaps. The results of our actions are often not immediately apparent. I trust in the Goddess, in my experiences and what my brothers have learned over the centuries.”

“Do you? I trust in myself.”

Oh, my beloved character. You are going to get cut down like a friggin’ Christmas tree.

So there you go, my contrubution in all of its NaNo draft glory. FEEL THE GLORY, HUMANS!

Sorry. Too much coffee again this morning. *tweeks*

If you’d like more WIPpet Wednesday fun, click on over here to see what the other WIPpeteers are up to this week, and as always, feel free to join in! Just post an excerpt on your own blog from a work in progress that somehow relates to today’s date (chapter, number of lines, whatever). We’re a good bunch, I promise. We probably won’t bite… Except for maybe our host, K.L. Schwengel. *flips through notes* Wait. No, she’s bright, not “she’ll bite.” Sorry.

Curious about ROW80, the flexible writing challenge that’s not as insane as NaNoWriMo*? Here’s the link to the site and the blog, from which you can find links to see what everyone else is up to this week. It’s never too late to join in!

*You know I love you, NaNo. gimme a kiss.

 


Random Dialogue, The Hulk, And a NanoThon

Someone recently said (and I’m really sorry I can’t remember who it was) that a writer’s brain is like a junk drawer.

It’s true. We’ve got character flotsam and setting jetsam floating around in there like nobody’s business, waiting for the day when they’ll find a home in a story. Ideas just rattle around until the day when two or more crash together to make something new, and we can pull out the tangled ball of string and paper-clips out and go, “Yeah, I can McGuyver something out of that.”

It’s stuff that many people would throw away, but we train ourselves to remember.

And there’s the dialogue. I know I’m not the only one who finds myself in a situation where suddenly comments from unknown characters are floating in my head, talking about what’s happening. I don’t usually know exactly where they’ll fit into a story, but they hang out, filling the junk drawer, waiting.

This one is re-surfacing for me today:

Him: “I don’t get why you girls make such a big deal about it. Cramps can’t be that bad.”

Her: “No? Imagine that the Incredible Hulk is grabbing your uterus and wringing it out like a damp dish rag, and you’ll have some idea of what it feels like.”

Him: *snort* “I don’t have a uterus.”

Her: “That’s right, you don’t. So just shut up about it.”

Something tells me she’s the one with the cramps. 😉

In any case, here I sit on the morning of the November 9 NaNoThon (or whatever they’re calling it), chugging a hot tea and Advil cocktail, about to start on my to-do list. It’s like I’m the protagonist in a story where my goal is to write, and the author just glommed on to the whole “throw obstacles at your protagonist” thing.

We’re going to visit the in-laws around supper time. AJ is working, so I have kids to keep busy all day (and I should probably feed them, too). I have laundry to do, suitcases to pack, birthday cards to fill out, cat litter to change, scenes to plan, and various aches and pains making me want to say “screw the world” and crawl back in bed.

Are we going to place bets on how much writing I get done today?

*cracks knuckles*

*finishes tea*

Let’s do this.


Really, WordPress?

It seems I’ve been unsubscribed from a few blogs I was following. Has this happened to anyone else?

Anyway, I still also have blogs that I AM not showing up in my reader, so I’m going to try unfollowing and re-following those to see if it makes a difference, and I’m trying to make sure I haven’t lost any others that I wanted to read.

GRRRRRR.

I so have time for this right now. -_-


Super Quick Wednesday Stuffs

Quick, because I need to outline and write another scene before I start cooking supper in an hour. Totally not going to happen, still going to try!

ROW80 Update:

I broke 14,000 words for NaNoWriMo this morning, which was nice. I got NO words yesterday (school event in the morning, guilt over housework in the afternoon, boot-buying mission after school, “V for Vendetta” at night), so it felt good to get two scenes in this morning that I was excited about. I met a new character, too, who was a lovely surprise. Her name is Griselda Beaumage, and she’s a blond sorceress who wears high boots and leather pants. She has a French accent and coined the word “Sorchere” this morning (combination of “sorciere” and “chere”). I don’t know where she came from, but I’m kind of in love.

I think it’s because I put lipstick on to make my muse feel special. I’ll have to keep doing that.

So there we go. We’re going away on Saturday evening, so that’ll put a dent in my productivity (and my ability to participate in the NaNoWriMo marathon). But darn it, I’m going to take my computer and write while we’re away. This book is exploding with bright, shiny things, and I’m not going to leave it alone until this draft is finished.

For more ROW80 goodness, click here!

WIPpet Wednesday

I guess I should put something up, but there’s no time to edit. Ack. Here’s the first 6 paragraphs of the scene where Griselda introduced herself, for the 6th of October. Sorry for the first-draftiness, but I have Things of Great Importance to do…

The lights dimmed, allowing gloom to creep into the corners of the classroom.  A breeze whispered past my ear, and a pale apparition appeared at the doorway. Smoke at first, nearly invisible, but solidifying into the form of a bright green dragon. Every part of it was beautiful, from the arch of its snake-like neck to the way the sunlight from the windows reflected off of its overlapping metallic scales.

The creature came closer, neck and back arched, nostrils flaring, steam rising from its mouth. Bright red eyes locked on mine. It lifted a foreleg to paw at the air, and took a few more steps, until it stood nose to nose with me where I sat frozen on the professor’s desk at the front of the room. The scaled lips rolled back, baring vicious fangs that dripped with an unfamiliar poison.

“Can I touch her?” I asked.

“Give it a try.”

I reached out, and my hand passed through the steam unharmed. The dragon snapped at me, and its teeth closed together over my wrist without resistance. The dragon’s flesh looked as real and solid as my own, but I felt nothing.

“Incredible,” I whispered.

Join the fun, or just see what those crazy WIPpeteers are up to here! Thank you, KL Schwengel, for hosting even when life is hitting you hard. ❤

And with that, I leave you. Let me know what you’re up to this week! WriMos, are you participating in the marathon on the 9th? Anyone doing word sprints on Twitter? Everyone else care to share what’s happening these days? Want to lie on the couch, talk about your mother? HMMMM?

Thanks for stopping by!


Happy Book Birthday to “Breakable” (multiple exclamation points)

Aimee L Salter is one of my favourite writing bloggers. She’s fun and nice, and she offers kick-ass tips on self-editing.

Know what she did? She went and released a book today!

Go, Aimee!

Check out her post here, including links to some places you can enter to win the book. I probably won’t enter, unless someone’s giving away a print copy. I already bought my e-book copy off of Amazon today, and HOLYCRAP am I excited to read it. Reviews have been excellent so far, and I know Aimee won’t drive me insane with adverbs, so there’s that. 😉

COME ON, CHRISTMAS KINDLE!

Product description from Amazon:

When seventeen-year-old Stacy looks in the mirror she can see and talk to her future self. “Older Me” has been Stacy’s secret support through the ongoing battle with their neurotic mother, relentless bullying at school, and dealing with her hopeless love for her best friend, Mark.

Then Stacy discovers Older Me is a liar.

Still reeling from that betrayal, Stacy is targeted again by her most persistent tormentor. Only this time, he’s used her own artwork to humiliate her – and threaten her last chance with Mark.

She’s reached breaking point.

Literally.

I can only imagine the excitement, fear, nausea and mind-blowing pride that must accompany releasing a book, especially to rave pre-release reviews.

Congratulations, Aimee.

Everyone else, check it out, why don’t you?

paperback (US)

Kindle (US)

Nook (US)

Amazon.ca link


Sunday ROW80 Update: Centipede Edition

So there I was, putting laundry into the machine, minding my own business, trying not to get my toes wet in the water that floods out of the thing every time it fills (as one does). All of a sudden…

CENTIPEDE.

First action: squeal like a little girl while standing frozen in place as it scampered under the dryer, where it’s much… well, dryer. Second action: thank GOD it’s a wayward garden centipede and not a house centipede, which I still believe we don’t have here.

If you know otherwise, don’t tell me.

Still, this thing was huge, and definitely not supposed to be in my basement. I raced upstairs to beg my knight in Kevlar armour to slay the beast, and he said, “Oh, yeah? Huh.”

MY HERO.

He didn’t even escort me back down when I had to move the laundry over.

Fast-forward to yesterday morning, and I found myself needing to return to the basement to do that whole “writing” thing. Guys, I had JUST set up my office about 3 metres from the laundry stuff, and I had no idea where the gol-darned critter had got to.

So what to do? I wasn’t about to move the washing machine and dryer to find it. And when I thought about it, I couldn’t in good conscience kill the centipede. They’re beneficial animals, even if they scare the crap out of me, and this one was probably taking care of the sow bugs that once lived under the washer.

I could have tried to catch it and put it outside, but again, moving the machines. Also, it’s been pretty cold. That just seemed mean.

So if you can’t beat ’em, what do you do? I’ll tell you. You name ’em Cindy, pretend they have hearts of gold under their hideous exteriors, and let them be, at least until the cats catch and eat ’em.

Also, you put one of these up on the floor net to the door of your office, because we don’t want to be TOO neighbourly:

20131102-200855.jpg

Think it’ll work?

On to the update:

Writing: Days one and two of NaNoWriMo netted me just over 5,000 words. I had wanted to hit that on day one when the excitement was still there, but I only got 4,000. Still, not too bad. Unfortunately, the family is already on “You’re going back down there AGAIN?” mode. You’d think after three previous NaNo years they’d aticipate my absence. Still, I guess it’s good to know that they miss me.

…and that’s all I have to report on, except to say that my characters are behaving themselves well so far. I’m re-drafting the sequel to Bound, and so far Aren has behaved admirably while confronting an old enemy, and Rowan has given him proper shit for implying that she needn’t bother herself with politics, so I’m proud of both of them.

That said, I don’t seem to be able to get the words out as quickly as I want to (like, say, 30min1k sprints). I hadn’t realized until now how much more quickly I can type a blog post than I can fiction these days. I could totally get my word count done in an hour if I were blogging.

Hmm.

No books to recommend this week, but one resource: @NaNoWordSprints on Twitter. Great bunch of people, good fun, nice challenge. I have trouble focusing for more than a few minutes at a time, but guided sprints really help, and reporting in keeps me honest, even though it’s very non-competitive.

Oh, and some fun news: we’ve passed 250 WordPress followers here at DtP (255, to be exact, plus e-mail subscribers), which is kind of exciting. Sure, a bunch of them are blogs who followed me hoping I’d be super interested in their tips on getting blog traffic/making money from my blog/selling me something else, but I appreciate every one of you who actually reads my posts, whether you like, lurk, or make my day by commenting.

If you’re reading this, you’re the reason I blog. So thank you.

So, how’s your week going? Anyone doing NaNoWriMo who I haven’t added as a friend? I’m KittySparkes there, if you want to add me. If not, what else have you been up to?


Writer’s Guilt

(Dedicated, with love, to all of my passionate, creative friends, and my NaNoWriMo buddies who will be neglecting… well, everything this month)

I wonder…

If I weren’t a writer, would my children have fresh-baked cookies and beautifully decorated cupcakes to take to school on holidays, instead of whatever I could throw together at the last minute?

Would the laundry always be done, folded, and actually put away? Would the floors shine? Would every meal be made from scratch, would they be planned three weeks in advance and would nothing come from the freezer except for the lasagna I made and thoughtfully socked away for busy nights?

Would I have time to exercise for an hour a day, pilates and yoga and cardio, oh my?

Would I be more involved at the kids’ school?

Perhaps.

It’s quite distracting having these characters and random bits of dialogue floating around in my head. This thing that I do, that hurts me when I do it and hurts worse when I don’t, but that brings such joy when it all goes right… well, it takes up a lot of time, doesn’t it?

Time I could use for cleaning, for brushing, for scrubbing, for running, for ironing, for cooking, for planning and organizing and being the perfect wife and mom.

I must be a selfish person to want this time for my work. I must be a waste of space. I must not care, or want to give all of myself to my family.

But here’s the thing:

If I weren’t a writer, I would be a mess inside.

I would have dreams left untended, worlds left uncreated, voices left unheard and choices unmade.

I would do my best to look happy on the outside, but the world inside of me would die. Without this perfect space for my imagination to play, it would wither, and crumble.

And all of that extra time? I’d probably use it to stretch out on the couch and watch daytime TV. I might take up drinking as a hobby to quiet those voices. You never know.

I would resent every cupcake I baked, instead of taking on classroom challenges with joy when I actually manage to remember them. I’m not the type who sees housework as a blessing, who feels fulfilled by a clean home. When I write, I can do these things without hating them, because they’re not my job.

If I weren’t a writer, I would feel like a servant.

And if things got really bad, I’d go back to what I used to be before I started writing, before I let my imagination soar, before I discovered a community of people who share my dream, before I was able to cut back on the antidepressants.

Before I started walking the dog every day, because damn it, I’m worth taking care of.

I would be less than what I am. Less happy. Less confident in my skills and what I can accomplish. Less fulfilled. Less balanced. Less friendly and cheerful and encouraging. There would be less of me, and less to give to my family and my world.

I am a better wife and a better mom for having something in my life that lifts me up and challenges me, even if it hurts and disappoints and distracts and frustrates me sometimes.

So yes, there are dirty dishes in the sink once in a while. Maybe my kids take peanut-free candy to school on Halloween instead of prettily-decorated, Pinterest-inspired bags of home-baked goodies.

When I feel like I’m being selfish for taking this time, for writing these words and imagining these worlds, I will remember:

This is who I am. This is what makes me whole, and this is how I give my family more of myself.

I’m not being selfish. I’m being the best possible version of me.

—–

(PS- I feel like I should add that there is nothing wrong with being a person, male or female, who feels fulfilled by keeping a clean home, who finds creative outlets in decorating and cooking, who takes pride in sending those cupcakes to school. I admire that. Most days, I wish I could be like you. It’s just not me, and I’m done feeling guilty for not being perfect according to standards that don’t fit me. Much love to you all, whether you agree with these words or not. <3)


The Office. Er, Fort. Fortroffice?

I needed a writing space. Stephen King told me I did, and I do not disobey Mr King without good reason.

The space can be humble (probably should be, as I think I have already suggested), and it really needs only one thing: a door which you are willing to shut. The closed door is your way of telling the world and yourself that you mean business; you have made a serious commitment to write and intend to walk the walk as well as talk the talk.

-Stephen King, On Writing

Until a few days ago, my writing space was in the living room. I didn’t have the whole room to myself, just my desk in the corner. That was fine when AJ was working nights and I was alone in a silent house… except that it wasn’t. There was always a mess on the coffee table to be cleaned, dishes in the sink suddenly screaming to be washed as soon as I sat down to write, unmade beds chanting horrible and ominous things in the bedrooms.

You see, there was no door I could close. I needed my own writing space, I just didn’t know where to find it.

Cassandra Page posted last week about her new writing space– an actual study, if you can believe that. I said there was nowhere for me to have writing space, except for the stinky basement. True, we have a small bedroom that houses the desktop computer and the assorted geekery (read: toys) that AJ and I collect, but it’s not my space, and there’s no room for my desk.

And then I started thinking about that stinky basement…

I couldn’t take the only enclosed room. That’s the playroom, and AJ would go insane if that mess moved out into the open. I couldn’t take the TV area beside the stairs. That’s the “boy cave.” So where to put my girl cave?

Hello, storage area!

Holy carp, it's even worse than I remembered. O.o

Holy carp, it’s even worse than I remembered. O.o

Fine, so it didn’t look like much. Fortunately, I’ve spent a bit of time over the last few years developing my imagination and learning to see possibilities.

I was going to make this WORK.

Now, obviously I couldn’t just move things and stick my desk in the corner; that would leave me no better off than I was in the living room. No, I needed walls, but my traditional construction skills are somewhat lacking.

Good thing I double-majored in box-stacking and blanket fort-building in kindergarten. I knew that would come in handy some day!

So I stacked me some boxes, unpacked and threw out some basement-smelling cardboard boxes, put everything back into the bins, and built a wall. I stacked the Christmas decorations in one easily-accessible corner, and covered the inside of my wall with the prettiest vintage bedsheets I had lying around. I stole an icky rug from the cats’ eating area, vacuumed the hair out of it, and laid it down. I set up the dog’s old kennel in the corner to make a table to spread my papers out on.

Eew. Needs a tablecloth or something.

Eew. Needs a tablecloth or something.

I took a space heater from upstairs, brought down a Scentsy burner, put up a picture, and stole my glider-rocker back from the boy cave, because they don’t appreciate it like I do.

IMG_3891

I stole borrowed a bookshelf AJ wasn’t using for much in his workout area, and brought another down from my space in the living room.

All I needed was… The Desk.

Yeah, I capitalized it. It’s not the biggest desk out there, but it’s 2×4 feet of heavy wood, handmade by AJ’s grandfather, plus a rolltop. Oh, and AJ was away this week, so I had to empty it, flip it, get it down the stairs and into my room all by myself.

Cue ominous music

Cue scary music

Nooooo problem. *flexes pathetic muscles*

IMG_3896

And there we have it. An office built out of storage bins, blankets, and my own stuff from around the house (though I did treat myself to a new lamp, white board, and corkboard, because DAMMIT, I HAVE WALL SPACE!)

IMG_3897

I’m so proud of my blanket/box walls. 🙂

Only one problem remains:

I still have no door.

20131031-102946.jpg

Anybody have some extra, pretty sheets lying around? No? Looks like I’m off to the thrift store…


ROW80 Update: Frustration With WordPress Edition

OK, is anyone else having trouble writing posts? WordPress will only let me type in Text mode (not Visual, no pasting there, either), and everything I type is smooshed together on one side of the screen. IT’S ANNOYING.

Grr.

The good news is that it won’t bother me too much in the near future. It’s almost NaNoWriMo time, and that means you’ll all be seeing less of me. You can breathe a sigh of relief, it’s okay. I’ll wait.

So yes, my ROW80 goals are shifting to 2,000 new words a day, minimum, taking Saturdays off and making up the difference elsewhere to hit 50,000+ words by the end of the month.

And really, that’s not so bad, is it? I’ll have three hours to myself when kindergarten switches back to mornings, and there’s no reason I shouldn’t get 2,000 words out in three hours. If I need to, I’ll take time whenever AJ is home to watch the kids.

The thing is, 2,000 words a day is on the low side for a lot of professional writers. Sure, many people do less and only work when inspired and get a draft finished every five years, but I want to write more than that. I have no discipline, no willpower, and I need to change my habits.

This November, I’m not going to look at 2,000 words a day as a lofty goal. I’m going to look at it as business as usual, and go from there.

Other goals… Well, I’m beta reading, so checkmark there. I won’t get it finished before NaNo starts, but I’ll make time.

Other reading: I read The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield, and it was a really interesting perspective on how and why we struggle with roadblocks/resistance when we’re creating art. He kind of lost me in part three with the mystical angels/muses stuff, but even there I was able to pick up some useful gems of wisdom. It’s a quick read, and worthwhile if you want to create something but can’t seem to get it done.

So I guess that’s about it. No, no WIPpet Wednesday for me this week, though to be fair, I kind of gave you a story this morning, even if it was ENTIRELY TRUE. I had a draft I made last week and it’s disappeared, and I can’t do it all over again with WordPress acting up. I’ll see you all tomorrow (maybe) for NaNo’s Eve, and maybe get pictures up of the new office that I built out of boxes and blankets. Maaaaaybe.

I want to post links to the other WIPpeteers and ROWers (?), but I don’t know how to add links in Text, so… head on over to visit KL Schwengel at myrandommuse.wordpress.com (who has posted a particularly excellent excerpt today) and click the WIPpet link there. ROW80 updates will be linked from aroundofwordsin80days.wordpress.com. Go figure.

But seriously, is WordPress acting up for anyone else? And what are you up to this week?


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LGBT Book Reviews, Cover Reveals & More! We are a group designed to help promote and review LGBT et al books. We were created out of seeing a need and wanted to have that need filled. We pride ourseles of having opinionated reviews that are unique and helpful to the author. Welcome to a world of the best LGBT et al books out there!

Dionne Lister | USA Today Bestselling Author

I love sharing my stories, but I wish they wouldn't keep me awake at night.

Avid Reviews

Fantasy and Sci-Fi Reviews For Both Self-Published and Traditionally Published Books

Author Jen Wylie's Blog

Welcome to my mind... Blog for fantasty author Jen Wylie

Pete Morin

Fiction about lawyers, cops and politicians.