Here and There

The older Fio gets, the more she likes clouds. Hope that means she's headed to heaven someday.
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 Ah, a new month, a new chance. And this month has Fio's birthday in it, which gives her a double chance.
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Fio's book is jolting along, and what drives it is some advice Fio's literary agent, Liza Dawson, gave her four years ago: every scene must move the story forward. (To which Fiorella adds what Tracy Wolff once said at an RWA meeting: let the POV be from the viewpoint of the person who has the most to lose.)
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Fio's getting closer and closer to signing up for an on-line Spanish class. She just can't stand not knowing what the characters on the telenovelas are talking  about.
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Speaking of telenovelas, Minnesota Son said most of the guns the characters on La Piloto were toting were berrettas. Apparently there is not much diversity in the television gun wardrobe closet.

The Three Shocks of Fiorella

The road to becoming a published author is a learning experience--a rough one.

Fio's first shock was when her agent asked for revisions.  Revisions? Didn't Liza sign Fio on because the book was perfect?  After all, it had been written out of Fio's heart and soul.  But heart and soul don't always sell so Fio revised, and her book became deeper because of it.

Fio's second shock was when her editor asked for revisions.  Fiorella went into shock for two weeks before she even attempted to follow through.  But again, editors know what sells.  And Fio was not being asked to change the plot in the least.

Fio's third shock was when she leafed through the book after it had been published.  Ye Gods!  Why hadn't she noticed she'd used the word "children" in two successive sentences?  And that the construction of the sentence on the following page was so clumsy that she changed it when she was giving a reading?

Now you know why authors drink.

Conferences

Fiorella learned four very important things at her first national RWA conference in 2008. First, she learned that she could navigate all by her lonesome within the conference, in a large hotel, and on the mean streets of San Francisco.  Second, she learned that there is no stereotypical romance writer--they come in all sizes, shapes, ages, colors--and sexes. Third, she learned that established writers (read Colleen Thompson and Terry McLaughlin) can be very kind to a newbie.  Fourth, as she learned, from the agent who stood in front of her in a Starbuck's line, a pattern of dieting for three days, then eating whatever one desires on the fourth, is an effective method of trimming down.

At the Orlando conference, she had a blinding Paul-on-the-way-to-Damascus revelation that, in order to get her work into print, she'd have to write not just as well as established authors, but strive for better.  She also learned to ignore other people's negativity.

At the New York conference, she realized that her overriding goal for the next year should be to GET AN AGENT.

At the Atlanta conference, she met face-to-face with said agent, the divine Liza, and also learned who were her true friends (read Colleen Thompson and April Sartor).

Next summer is the San Antonio conference.  More adventures to come.

Onion

Let's make one thing clear. Fiorella doesn't write in one steady flow.  Instead, she jots down ideas and dialogue, tries to put everything in a logical order, then rewrites and rewrites and rewrites, paying special attention to notes written in caps to BE SURE THE BASEBALL IS MENTIONED EARLIER or whatever.  Her manuscripts grow layer by layer, like an onion.  Kinkaid House, complete at 90,000 words when Fio originally submitted it to the Divine Liza, had been fleshed out to 95,000 words by the time it reached the desk of editor Michele.  If Fio has further access, it probably will reach 100,000.

And, by the way, when the book comes out, Fio expects all you readers out there in Eastern Europe to gobble it up and send her to the top of the New York Times best seller list.

Literary Update

The ever-fertile brain of Fiorella is at it again.  Her new publisher wants two more books set in Bosque Bend, but Fio planned the remaining books in the trilogy being Lolly's story and Sarah's story, both of which are set in Austin.  What to do?  The Divine Liza asked Fio to think about it.

Ah, the seeds of Satan---now Fio can't STOP thinking about it, and she really likes the Bosque Bend story she's come up with.  But, again, like all her stories, it's going to be a tough sell to the publisher, and maybe to Liza too.  It's the story of a woman whose late husband was controlling to the point of abusive and a man who likes to run the show.  In other words, it's Fio's answer to to Sixty Shades. 

But for now, she's focusing on finishing off Lolly's story. 

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry

Too much to do, too little time in which to do it.

Fiorella's been working every minute since she got home from the conference, not even pausing to watch Big Bang, and she had a minor breakdown last night when she learned the joint birthday celebration she and daughter had planned would have to be rescheduled, which means that Fio will miss Friend Ashley's one-year-old's birthday party.  Fio has already missed last Sunday's dog training session and the Palace Theater's production of the Will Rogers Follies because she was thinking the writers' conference ended on Friday rather than Saturday, and she has to work out a medical appointment conflict.  In the meantime, she's supposed to be gathering documentation for a lawsuit and figuring out how to pre-publicize her book and writing, writing, writing.

At least, although it took hours to pull the separate chapters together and format them, Fio got two of her other oeuvres off to the divine Liza.  And she's caught up on the newspapers.  And she's unpacked and done her laundry.  And she made it to the pre-set meeting with Friend Joan in south Austin.  And she wrote out her biography for the Georgetown Library writing classes she rashly agreed to teach. 

And despite not having any Neosporin with her in Atlanta, her wounds are healing well, even the emotional ones.

National Conference Report

Fiorella lost her sunglasses the first day.  The second day, she slashed her leg trying to get into a taxi-cab van built like the Great Wall of China.  The third day, she tripped and fell on a treacherous front step while departing the hotel, leaving her with a big goose egg on her forehead. The fourth day,  she realized her book stood all, all alone, that everything else on the market was light and fluffy while hers was dark, deep, and emotional.  The fifth day, coming home, she lost her regular glasses. For her, the romance writers' conference was a total bust.

Or was it?  Sure, she woke up yesterday morning and lay there working out the words to "My Country 'Tis of Thee ,"  "America," and the national anthem (which she could only get halfway through) to be sure that conk on the head hadn't obliterated quite all of her memory.  Sure, she'll have to wear the ugly purple cat eyes until she can get to the optometrist for a classier-looking pair.  Sure, she'll have to make a trip to Walgreen's to pick up a new pair of sunglasses, and she'll have to keep a close eye on that leg wound because she hadn't packed Neosporin in her carry-on.    

But Fiorella survived and is stronger for the experience.  She met with her agent, Liza Dawson, for the first time in person, and the divine one is as positive and supportive in person as she has been over the phone.  And Fio reconnected with two old friends, who supported Fio when she experienced a real-life black moment of her own.  And she talked to Laurie Kellogg, disdained by publishers despite her many contest wins, who finally took matters into her own hands, self-published, and is now pulling in $5000 a month.

But the real kicker is that Fiorella realized how strong her book is, that it reaches to the depths of despair to the zenith of joy.  That it is dramatic (thank you, Baylor Children's Theater), an emotional roller coaster, Gone  with the Wind with a happy ending.  Sure, it's not what's on the market right now, but Fiorella thinks it will sell like the proverbial hotcakes once the word gets out.  This book is emotionally satisfying, a keeper, one you can't put down.  To amend Scarlett, AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, THIS BOOK WILL FLY!  




 

Olive Oil, Sonia Dog, Kinkaid House

Ah, the joys of olive oil.  Husband uses it when he cooks and Fio sprays it on her nails.
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Fio left her laptop open on the couch yesterday, and when she returned to it, she found Sonia, sound asleep,  her big mastiff head resting across the keyboard.  Fio would have gotten a snapshot of the scene if only she knew how to work her cellphone camera.  Remember, Fio is a Luddite.
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The divine Liza, Fiorella's literary agent, sent Fio a nice email yesterday to catch her up on what was happening with Kinkaid House, which is making the rounds of the publishing houses.  No one's grabbed it, but no new turn-downs since Ballantine a couple of months ago. That leaves some biggies and a couple of smallies to go.  Wish Fio well.

To Get Published or Not to Get Published

Got a note from Liza Dawson yesterday.  Ballantine said Honeysuckle Dreams didn't work for them, NAL said it was too dark, St. Martin's said they didn't know how they'd sell it, and SourceBooks said it was too similar to a series they were already promoting. Avon and Mira like it so far, but haven't finished reading the whole manuscript.  Kensington, Gallery (Pocket), Berkley, and Grand Central haven't started reading it yet.

Fiorella prefers not to think about the situation.  If HD sells, it sells.  If it doesn't, it doesn't.

Good News

Things are looking up.  Fiorella finished her revisions yesterday evening and will proofread today, with the goal of sending the ms off to the  divine Liza by Friday.  Also, Fio is beginning to get the hang of FB and has made contact with several old high school buddies who seem very interested in the fact that she is writing sexy romances.

Also, two of Son's submissions have been accepted in a local art show.  Also, he's survived both of his fall classes so far, despite the fact that he's been working an average of sixty hours a week. Also, most of his college loan creditors are off his back because he signed up for those two classes.   

And Husband's second-degree burns still hurt, but they're scabbing over nicely.

All is well.  All will be well. 

The Dog Ate My Homework

Fio's having a a tough time of it.  She told the divine Liza that she'd send PRINCESS OF BOSQUE BEND in this weekend, the Lord be willin' an' the creeks don' rise.  Well, apparently the Lord WASN'T willing and we KNOW the creeks rose, so Fio is running late.  That last chapter isn't moving along as quickly as she thought it would, and she'll need a full day after that for  proofreading.

Maybe it would help if Fiorella had ever learned how to type properly.  Yeah, it's one finger on her right hand the and two on her left.  She can actually rev up to fifty words a minute, but, needless to say, strange things happen when she mis-aims.  Computers have all those auxiliary keys that can do such weird and wonderful things.

In her case, more weird than wonderful. 

Serial Revisonist

Fiorella's dirty little secret is that she loves doing revisions.  Yes, while everyone else in her RWA chapter is complaining about revisions, she revels in them.  It's another chance to improve her manuscript, to get it right. 

Of course it helps that the divine Liza hasn't given her a deadline.  Fio may revise her  opinion of revisions when that occurs, but for now she's wallowing in perfectionism.

Besides, it's exciting to be on the cusp, not quite there, but able to see over the mountain.  Sliding down the other side might not be quite as comfortable.

Three Decades of Agents

When it comes to agents, Fio has been a total blockhead.   The first agent she ever submitted to, back when white-out was the newest thing, rejected her with a lovely, encouraging personal letter referring her to a second agent, who rejected her with another lovely, encouraging personal letter. Assuming two down meant she was a loser, Fio filed away the manuscript, accidentally tossing it a couple of years ago.

Ten years later, before the age of queries, Fio wrote another romance and, after getting hold of a contraband list of RWA-approved agents, submitted the ms to several of them.  A woman with the last name of "Yo" called Fio and told her she liked the story, but it needed to be longer.  Fio, dumb as dirt, told her that there was no way to make it longer.  The end.

Ten years later, Fio wrote a third romance, and, through a friend, found another agent who wanted to represent her.  She was a part-timer out of California who had written a couple of YAs and gotten them published, but was mainly occupied with taking care of sick relatives.  Needless to say, Fiorella had not consulted a copy of of the RWA agent list this time.  You can imagine how successful the arrangement turned out to be.

Ten years later, Fio joined ARWA and wrote two more romances, entered contests, and started querying agents.  At last the happy ending.  Fiorella is now represented by the divine Liza, whom she adores.  Better late than never.

And, by the way, the manuscript that won Liza over is the same one Fio thought she couldn't lengthen twenty years ago.  Strangely enough, its wordage has doubled through the years.   Must be all the cell phones she had to add in.

 

Fiorella is concerned.  When she emailed her revision of the first five chapters of Princess of Bosque Bend to her agent  a week ago, the divine Liza  said she would read it over the weekend--but Fio hasn't heard a word from her since.

Is it a sign
That Liza divine
Is no longer mine?

Technique

While Fiorella's first five revised chapters of PRINCESS OF BOSQUE BEND are off in New Yawk City being checked out by agent Liza Dawson (cue celestical choir), Fio has been progressing on its sequel, PRINCESS REDLANDER.  Got six good chapters, about 25,000 words, of that sucker in the bag. 

Fio aims at 90,000 words when she's writing a romance, and she works in thirds.  The first third of the story introduces the characters and the situations, and PRINCESS RED is almost to that point.  The second third mixes everything up--it's the complications section.  The third section, of course, resolves everything. 

Happily ever after.