Christmas books are out, and getting a lot of airtime in the Indie circles. I had decided several months ago, I would have one. I even wrote a rough draft, and sent it through a beta reader or two. But it was a little depressing to write, and I hadn't gotten back to it.
See, it was depressing, because it is about a married couple who has seemingly lost the love, and in desperation, turn elsewhere. It has a happy ending, and doesn't involve "real" cheating, but it was depressing to write nonetheless.
I am happily married, have been for almost fourteen years. But every marriage has had it's down times, and focusing on those down times to write this book was sickening. I am the type of person who doesn't like to dwell on the negative, and that's a real downer when I write. I have to revisit negative feelings in order to write about them realisticaly, and negative parts of my marriage arent' fun at all.
So, here I am, working on revisions for my holiday novella, and it's just as depressing as writing the damn thing. It's like pulling teeth, forcing myself to sit down and re-read, and revise what I've written. Yesterday, I got so frustrated, I got up and got on faceboook and did some marketing for Neighborly Complications. Last night it was #2 in the free erotica store, that should tell you how I threw myself into it to keep from working on the holiday thing.
Today, I'm not giving myself that option. It's Friday, and I don't work on weekends, so anything I want to get done for the next two days has to be done today. So I will work on it, and I'll probably be in an atrocious mood later, but that's okay. It's part of the job.
Internalizing.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Cover Reveal - Anne Conley's Falling for Grace
Yup, my own cover reveal...Imagine that. Cover design by the lovely and talented Vanessa Booke. Yessir, she's done it again! Falling for Grace's expected release date is October 15.
Rafael is one of God’s Four Winds, the Archangel of Healing. He has answered the countless prayers for healing of loved ones, wondering what it was about the emotion that made humans willing to sacrifice so much.
Grace is a lifeguard who has been on Rafe’s radar since she lost a little boy three years ago. What she doesn’t realize is the green haze that comes over her during a rescue is actually a diving presence who’s about to give up his celestial body to become a very real entity in her life.
While Grace is trying to overcome her own demon, Rafe is discovering his own sexuality, but there’s a darker presence making himself known. The Deceiver wants what Rafe is getting, and he’ll do whatever it takes to have her.
Excerpt from Falling for Grace:
Rafe was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth the next morning, reflecting on his corporeal body.
Teeth brushing. That wasn't a normal thing for him. Neither was showering. Or shaving.
Usually, his work was done on a different realm. He traveled in the cosmic soup, visiting people in their dreams, subconsciously, or their conscious minds. He became a temporary part of their psyche. He dropped in on surgeons during surgery, to help guide shaky, sleep-deprived hands. Rafe had passed out ideas to the stumped healers, in a sudden flash of brilliance. He visited dreams. He was responsible for many 'Eureka!' moments.
Rarely, had he come to earth in a human body. He'd been visiting Grace during saves for the past three years in her mind, allowing her to do her job the way she had been trained to do, only providing moral support. He hadn't had to step in with her, yet.
Head-hopping was one of his many talents. He had the ability to jump inside of another person's head and sense what they were thinking. He didn't get clear visions, only vague perceptions. As tempting as it was to be inside her mind all the time, he hadn't done it to Grace.
Much.
He enjoyed having a body. It felt good. He stood in front of the mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist, sensing his body. He could feel the muscles in his arm and shoulder flex as he brushed, enjoyed the feel of the bristles against his teeth and tongue. He flexed his toes against the bathmat, scrunching them into the thick pile, feeling his calves bunch. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, delighted at the various ways that the human body secreted by-products. Marvelous.
The delight in feeling himself was interrupted by Grace opening the bathroom door, surprising him. He turned to her, and gaped, undone by what he saw.
She was standing there, bleary-eyed, wearing nothing but a knit camisole and a pair of the tiniest bikini panties he'd ever seen on a woman in the flesh. He was frozen, eyes wide, toothbrush in his mouth, toothpaste foaming and dripping, looking like a rabid dog. He was aware of his groin muscles tightening, his testicles shrinking abruptly.
Grace was frozen too. He saw her jaw drop, framing her wide luscious mouth in a perfect O. Her blue eyes widened, and an attractive blush crawled up her chest to her cheeks. Her wide eyes traveled from his face down his torso, to the towel wrapped around his waist before dropping to her feet, where they began the climb up her own body.
She snapped her mouth shut, and she began to sputter as realization dawned.
"I-I'm so sorry. I should have knocked." Her hands went to cover herself. "I'm not used to a man living here." Turning, she tossed over her shoulder as she darted out of the bathroom, "I'll just use the other one!"
Chuckling to himself, Rafe looked down, noticing his erection, making a tent out of his towel. The tightness in his groin should have been a give away, but he'd been so taken aback by her appearance in the doorway that he hadn't taken in the implications of his blood flow altering its course from his testicles to other places.
Spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth, Rafe whistled as he went into his room to dress for the day. It would be exciting, he was sure.
Book one in the Four Winds Series is on sale for .99
Amazon: http://amzn.to/13bUG1u
Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/18kkRnQ
Kobo: http://bit.ly/119oKau
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1aln3Mv
Contact me:
Email: anneconleyauthor@gmail.com
Website: www.anneconley.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/anneconleyauthor
Twitter: @anneconley10
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6907845.Anne_Conley
About me:
Anne Conley lives in a small town in East Texas with her husband, two kids, and thirty goats. She writes all day, reads all night, and is prides herself on not being in the running for Mommy of the Year, as her kids are lucky to make it to school with socks and underwear on. She brazenly stole her pseudonym from her great-grandmother, a true pioneer woman who raised seven kids alone: churning butter, plucking chickens, knitting clothes, and putting coal oil on every visible wound.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Re-release
I know it's not typical, nor is it recommended, but I have rewritten and re-released one of my books. Realizing I should have waited to publish it in the first place was difficult for me, as I don't like to admit to mistakes, but I've rearranged my publishing schedule to accommodate the fact that I had a free novella up that was not the best example of my work. So I rewrote it. I love the story now, and am proud to pimp it. The characters are developed, there's more of a mystery, and the MCs are more likeable, I think. Since some of my negative reviews were about "gratuitous sex scenes" I changed the classification to erotica, as I was unwilling to take out the sex, since it compelled the plot lines and was a major driving force for the characterizations.
Where before, it was a free novella, now it is a full-length novel. It is the first in the Stories of Serendipity series, and introduces a lot of the characters that have their own stories later in the series. That was a super fun scene to write, and gave me more insight into the characters that I have yet to write stories about, although their outlines are waiting patiently for me on my laptop.
Another thing I really enjoyed about writing this was revisiting old characters. Claire and Max were the impetus of my writing career. I have always been one to make up stories. I've always had a journal next to my bed. I've always been a writer. But Claire and Max were a story I'd been thinking about for nearly a year before I finally decided to sit down and write it. They'd been bungling around inside my head for ages it seemed, before I finally told my husband I wanted to try to write a book. His support was all the impetus I needed to make a go at it.
Initially, the novel sucked. I'm not gonna lie. But I loved the characters so much, I kept rewriting it. My marketing plan involved a free book to "hook" potential readers, so I cut it down after rewriting it a couple of times and decided to make a novella out of it. I was relatively pleased with the result, as in, it was better than anything else I'd written about Claire and Max so far. So I hit the publish button.
Reviews were mixed. Some people loved the story, others hated it, a lot thought it was okay. I'm alright with people hating my stuff. As long as they're not cruel in their reviews, I have no problem with people giving me one and two stars because it wasn't their cup of tea. But the reviews brought to my attention that there was so much I could have done with the story that I just hadn't done yet.
Hence my decision to rewrite it. While in KDP's details page, I updated the product description and decided to re-classify it as well. It is now in the erotica section of Amazon's search page. And now it's #29 in erotica. And #840 in free kindle books.
I'm pleased with that.
Where before, it was a free novella, now it is a full-length novel. It is the first in the Stories of Serendipity series, and introduces a lot of the characters that have their own stories later in the series. That was a super fun scene to write, and gave me more insight into the characters that I have yet to write stories about, although their outlines are waiting patiently for me on my laptop.
Another thing I really enjoyed about writing this was revisiting old characters. Claire and Max were the impetus of my writing career. I have always been one to make up stories. I've always had a journal next to my bed. I've always been a writer. But Claire and Max were a story I'd been thinking about for nearly a year before I finally decided to sit down and write it. They'd been bungling around inside my head for ages it seemed, before I finally told my husband I wanted to try to write a book. His support was all the impetus I needed to make a go at it.
Initially, the novel sucked. I'm not gonna lie. But I loved the characters so much, I kept rewriting it. My marketing plan involved a free book to "hook" potential readers, so I cut it down after rewriting it a couple of times and decided to make a novella out of it. I was relatively pleased with the result, as in, it was better than anything else I'd written about Claire and Max so far. So I hit the publish button.
Reviews were mixed. Some people loved the story, others hated it, a lot thought it was okay. I'm alright with people hating my stuff. As long as they're not cruel in their reviews, I have no problem with people giving me one and two stars because it wasn't their cup of tea. But the reviews brought to my attention that there was so much I could have done with the story that I just hadn't done yet.
Hence my decision to rewrite it. While in KDP's details page, I updated the product description and decided to re-classify it as well. It is now in the erotica section of Amazon's search page. And now it's #29 in erotica. And #840 in free kindle books.
I'm pleased with that.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Skipping Stones Blog Tour
Blurb:
They say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
Not everyone will grieve in this order, nor will everyone go through every stage. It’s during the stage of denial when Alex Hart meets Andrew Foster. He takes her one-step closer to acceptance: the stage when new, meaningful relationships are formed. The stage when the realization occurs that this is now the new state of normal.
Just when Alex thinks she is on her way to healing, she enters the bargaining phase. That’s the phase where you wonder what you could have done differently. You wonder “what if?” Specifically, what if the ones you loved hadn’t left you?
Leaving…this is what makes heading off to war so difficult and frightening for Alex. She knows all too well what it’s like to be the one on the losing end of life, which is why she’s made it her personal mission in life to save as many lives as possible. The extreme high she gets from treating trauma victims turns into Alex’s own form of therapy, or so she thinks.
Not everyone will grieve in this order, nor will everyone go through every stage. It’s during the stage of denial when Alex Hart meets Andrew Foster. He takes her one-step closer to acceptance: the stage when new, meaningful relationships are formed. The stage when the realization occurs that this is now the new state of normal.
Just when Alex thinks she is on her way to healing, she enters the bargaining phase. That’s the phase where you wonder what you could have done differently. You wonder “what if?” Specifically, what if the ones you loved hadn’t left you?
Leaving…this is what makes heading off to war so difficult and frightening for Alex. She knows all too well what it’s like to be the one on the losing end of life, which is why she’s made it her personal mission in life to save as many lives as possible. The extreme high she gets from treating trauma victims turns into Alex’s own form of therapy, or so she thinks.
When faced with her world being turned upside down, Alex may just find that her true therapy is in the one who has always saved her.
Author Links
Bio:
In 2005, the couple welcomed their first son, Noah. J.B. finished her Bachelor of Arts degree in Early Childhood Education at the University of South Carolina-Aiken in 2006. During her time studying children's literature, a professor had encouraged her to become a writer.
In 2007, she welcomed their second child, Jonah, and she became a stay at home mom/entrepreneur. In 2009, the found out their two children and J.B. have Mitochondrial Disease. In 2011, a diagnosis also was given to Chad. Please take a moment and learn more about Mitochondrial Disease. Awareness is key to this disease that has no cure or treatments.
J.B. McGee and her family now reside in Buford, Georgia, to be closer to their children's medical team. After a passion for reading had been re-ignited, J.B. decided to finally give writing a shot. Broken (This Series), is her first book and first series.
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Friday, September 6, 2013
What does my writing have to do with celery?
My daughter and I were coming in from the grocery store today, and she was valiantly trying to help me in with the foodstuffs. I caught her dragging a package of celery and said something to the effect of, "You're dragging the celery through the dirt." She came back with the ever-witty reply of, "It's the celery's fault!"
Now, we all know it's not the celery's fault it was being dragged through the dirt on its way to my fridge, so I replied with the all-wise, "Own it, Elizabeth. Just get the celery out of the dirt!"
I have no idea what she did, as I was on my way back to the car for the 30-pack of beer, because it's Friday night, after all...
That one comment, coupled with this blog post, got me thinking...
Last Sunday, at church the president of our women's group introduced me to another member as "a published writer" where I blushed profusely and started staring at my fascinating shoes.
See a couple of months ago, during a moment of weakness, I announced to the entire group of 30 little old church ladies that my Smashwords check was more than I anticipated, and I was proud that my books were making a little money. All thirty silver-headed ladies pulled out pen and paper and started writing down my information. When I told them they couldn't buy actual copies of the books, more than half of them put away their paper, but they were all very curious about what kind of books I wrote.
I actually told them I write trashy romances. Yup. Those are the words I used.
Tonight I realized, nobody will take me seriously if I don't take myself seriously. Which means I need to lose the word "trashy" in my repertoire. I need to tell people, proudly that I am about to publish my sixth romance novel. My in person presence needs to match my online presence. I am a mother. I go to church. But I'm also an author. I author books. And I have published several. And people buy them. And LIKE them. So there! Yes, I'm aware I just began five sentences in a row with a conjunction (My apologies, Mrs. Garcia). It's a stylistic choice.
So, yeah...Elizabeth needs to own the fact that it was not the celery's fault she was dragging it through the dirt. And I need to own the fact that I write romance. When my daughter tells her friends' parents that her mother wrote a book called Hot Mess, and they look at me expectantly, I will not blush and stare at my feet saying, "Yeah, let's go, hon..." I will hold my head up high and say, "You can check it out at www.anneconley.com. Or join 1750 other people who like my facebook page.
HA!
Now, we all know it's not the celery's fault it was being dragged through the dirt on its way to my fridge, so I replied with the all-wise, "Own it, Elizabeth. Just get the celery out of the dirt!"
I have no idea what she did, as I was on my way back to the car for the 30-pack of beer, because it's Friday night, after all...
That one comment, coupled with this blog post, got me thinking...
Last Sunday, at church the president of our women's group introduced me to another member as "a published writer" where I blushed profusely and started staring at my fascinating shoes.
See a couple of months ago, during a moment of weakness, I announced to the entire group of 30 little old church ladies that my Smashwords check was more than I anticipated, and I was proud that my books were making a little money. All thirty silver-headed ladies pulled out pen and paper and started writing down my information. When I told them they couldn't buy actual copies of the books, more than half of them put away their paper, but they were all very curious about what kind of books I wrote.
I actually told them I write trashy romances. Yup. Those are the words I used.
Tonight I realized, nobody will take me seriously if I don't take myself seriously. Which means I need to lose the word "trashy" in my repertoire. I need to tell people, proudly that I am about to publish my sixth romance novel. My in person presence needs to match my online presence. I am a mother. I go to church. But I'm also an author. I author books. And I have published several. And people buy them. And LIKE them. So there! Yes, I'm aware I just began five sentences in a row with a conjunction (My apologies, Mrs. Garcia). It's a stylistic choice.
So, yeah...Elizabeth needs to own the fact that it was not the celery's fault she was dragging it through the dirt. And I need to own the fact that I write romance. When my daughter tells her friends' parents that her mother wrote a book called Hot Mess, and they look at me expectantly, I will not blush and stare at my feet saying, "Yeah, let's go, hon..." I will hold my head up high and say, "You can check it out at www.anneconley.com. Or join 1750 other people who like my facebook page.
HA!
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