Marni Mann
Memoirs Aren’t Fairytales
MarniMann
The Memoir of a Writer
Book Clubs.
Posted by on May 21, 2012
Last week I attended my first book club meeting. I’m not a member of any local book clubs—although I should be—this was a discussion of my novel and I was asked to participate. Some important details that I should mention: the group consisted of all women and most of them have children my age.
As I said, since I’m not part of a book club I wasn’t sure how these meetings work. Would we stick to the book club questions I had provided? Would they be interested in my writing, research, and publishing process? Would they ask me to read one of the scenes that are loaded with f-bombs and sex references to see how many shades of red I would turn?
I didn’t do any reading, but what I did get to do was share my story from conception to publication. We discussed the characters, the messages, the grit, even the grime. They wanted to know everything and I was beyond thrilled to tell them. At one point, I leaned back in my chair. My eyes shifted between the speakers, absorbing each of their expressions, gestures, breaths, and words. They were talking about Nicole. My Nicole. They defined her character. They analyzed her movements, decisions, quests, and how each impacted her future. During a brief pause, I looked down and Memoirs Aren’t Fairytales was resting in my palms. This was a full circle moment. And it was one I would never forget. I’ll also never forget when one of the ladies asked me how I knew so much about blow jobs. I *think* I danced around that answer. I do know I laughed pretty hard.
A big thank you to all the women in the Lakewood Ranch Book Club. My first book club appearance was an amazing experience because of you. I appreciate you being so open-minded and for being so warm and welcoming.
If any of you would like discussion questions for your book club, please contact me HERE.
xo Marni
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The eBook is…
Posted by on May 7, 2012
FREE!
Yes, you heard that correctly, my friends. For a limited time, the eBook of Memoirs Aren’t Fairytales will be free on Amazon and iTunes. For those of you who have a Kindle and iPad, this is your chance to get a free copy right before the sequel is released.
Back Cover
“I could feel my chin falling towards my chest, my back hunching forward. My body was acting on its own, and my mind was empty, like all my memories had been erased. There was scenery behind my lids. Aqua colored water and powdery sand that extended for miles. I was never going back to coke. I wanted more heroin. And I wanted it now.”
Leaving behind a nightmarish college experience, nineteen-year-old Nicole and her best friend Eric escape their home of Bangor, Maine to start a new life in Boston. Fragile and scared, Nicole desperately seeks a new beginning to help erase her past. But there is something besides freedom waiting for her in the shadows–a drug that will make every day a nightmare.
Heroin.
With one taste, the love that once flowed through Nicole’s veins turns into cravings. Tracks mark the passing of time, and heroin’s grip gets tighter. It holds her hand through deaths and prostitution, but her addiction keeps her in the darkness. When her family tries to strike a match to help light her way, Nicole must choose between a life she can hardly remember, or a love for heroin she’ll never forget.
Here’s the link to Amazon: CLICK HERE.
Happy Reading! 
xo
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Scars from a Memoir
Posted by on April 23, 2012
I’m bringing you lots of exciting news this week. First, the sequel to Memoirs Aren’t Fairytales is done! Scars from a Memoir was submitted to my publisher last night and we’ll be starting the creative process very soon. Once I have a cover and a release date, you’ll be the first to know.
A big THANK YOU to my beta readers: Susan Singer, Matthew Merrick, Melissa Roske, and James Watson. I couldn’t have done this without you guys. My thoughts and words can be a bit of a mess sometimes, but you made them shine. Michele Esterkes, your support made this novel possible.
Thank you to all my readers who take the time to contact me on my Facebook page, Twitter, and through email. I save all your notes and reread them for inspiration. I also listen to your feedback, which brings me to my second announcement. Lots of parents have mentioned they would like to have their kids read Memoirs Aren’t Fairytales, but the story is too dark. Not anymore. I’m currently editing the novel, and we’re going to be releasing a second version that’s appropriate for young adult (YA) readers. I’ve enlisted a team of beta readers who are parents, an elementary teacher, and guidance counselor. With their help, this novel is going to be suitable for your kids’ eyes.
To my followers: thanks for your continued support. I’m grateful for the lovely words you share with me and I’m thrilled to begin a second (and third!!) journey with all of you. xx
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Gale Martin: Reflections
Posted by on April 9, 2012
I’m thrilled to introduce you to my friend and fellow Booktrope author Gale Martin. Gale is the author of DON JUAN IN HANKEY, PA and the soon to be released, THE SHAKER PROPOSAL. Gale and I met before our novels were released and I was immediately attracted to her kindness, humor, and poignant words. For this post, I asked her to answer the Autumn Essay from Write For The Fight: A Collection of Seasonal Essays: What, at this point in your life, do you want, wish and dream of for your life going forward?
Striving for balance in a world of mortal coils
Some people want to make their mark on the world while others work tirelessly to leave no carbon footprint.
As for me, I want more balance. Between my work and home life. Between achieving success in the world and realizing inner satisfaction. Between receiving blessings and giving them. Between seeking beauty in the world and being the source of it.
Have you ever encountered someone who seems to have been born wiser than you? I have one friend who exemplifies the old soul—one who has this “balance thing” down as if she’s used several life times to perfect it. I’m inclined to believe human beings only have one shot at life’s balancing act. However, I wasn’t born as wise and discerning as my friend, so I’m still figuring out how it works. But I’ll share with you what I’ve come to learn through years of trial and error. I hope it will help you realize the difference between getting what you want out of life moving forward or getting wound up in your own mortal coil.
Don’t expect too much of people
Have you ever known people who carry their heart hurts around like they’re dragging a sack behind them? It’s not easy for me or anyone else for that matter to let go of that precious bag of hard-earned woes. But if you don’t learn to work through or let go of some of the pain others have caused you, you’ll be toting a bag as burdensome as if lashed to a beached white whale. As one malapropos public official once said, you’ll be wearing “an Alcatraz around your neck.”
Let me give you an example. After I published my first book, I thought some very good friends—avid readers both— would read it and embrace it. We’ve shared many book titles over the years at gatherings and the wife’s first question to me, regardless of setting, is usually, “So, what are you reading?” I expected to see them at my book signings, cheering me on. Neither of them has taken any interest in my book or showed up at an event. While this has been painful, had I allowed myself to be weighed down by what I initially perceived as a grievous slight, I wouldn’t have been able to lift my head to see many other wonderful overtures occurring right in front of me from people I didn’t expect or rarely knew.
Don’t revel in your heart hurts
People don’t admire others burdened by troubles. Everyone alive has more troubles than she can name, not even if she blogged about them every day. It’s how you carry on despite your heart hurts that deserves notice and merits respect.
Expect more from yourself
Have you acknowledged a kindness with the same amount of life energy used to bestow it? Why not? Have you set a few goals for yourself and checked in on them at pre-determined intervals to gauge your progress? If not, why not? People who constantly complain about others remind me of politicians who rail about their opponents’ records without putting forth their own solutions to society’s ills. So many choices in life aren’t predetermined for us. Outside of the commitments we must make to our jobs and our families or the directives heaped upon us, there are many, many more decisions in between that are totally up to us. Are you going through the motions of those choices that are yours alone to make? Are you being intentional? Have you stretched yourself to be more kind or thoughtful or dutiful or creative than the circumstance permits? If not, why not? Such choices are entirely up to you.
Take time to listen, especially if you love to talk
As an extrovert by personality type, I admit that I love talking. If you’re like me, then you need to listen more. Period. As Will Rogers once said, “Never miss a good chance to shut up.” Don’t listen with the expectation that you are waiting for your turn to talk either. Listen to people. Really listen. Force yourself to do it. Try to push away filters that prevent you from listening such as he’s a (fill in the blank) and I’m a (fill in the blank), so he’s saying nothing I want to hear.
Look for moments of stillness
Life isn’t made up of milestones, not really. It’s made up of moments. Don’t allow time—life—to slip through your fingers without experiencing it fully from second to second, at least some of the time. If you slog through your days without building in times for stillness, you’ll miss chances to take in the beauty that life offers in its smallest moments. You’ll also miss chances to contribute to the beauty collective, which is really a cooperative. We all own a piece of what is beautiful whether we know it or not. We need to pause over a word or linger on an idea before we create that graceful turn of phrase that others savor. Sometimes, we need to examine all the blooms in our gardens before picking and pressing one flower to attach to that card for a friend.
I’m sure there are individuals who intuitively know and practice what I’ve just shared. But if you’re like me, knowing and doing are two different things. This post is a gentle reminder to myself and others that realizing life’s all-important balance, which can lead to more contentment day to day and moment to moment, is a matter of knowing and doing.
Gale Martin has been writing creatively since 2005. She published her first novel, DON JUAN IN HANKEY, PA, in December of 2011, which is available in print and e-book.
Her work has appeared online and in print in various publications such as The Christian Science Monitor, Sirens Magazine, Duck & Herring Company’s Pocket Field Guide, and The Giggle Water Review and in several anthologies. She hosts a writing blog called “Scrivengale.”
She hosts an opera blog, “Operatoonity,” and is an accredited opera reviewer for Bachtrack, an online site featuring classical performance. She lives in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, which serves as a rich source of inspiration for her writing. She has a master of arts in creative writing from Wilkes University.
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Elise Stephens: The Person Behind The Writer
Posted by on March 28, 2012
Like I said last week, one of the best parts of my job is getting to meet other talented authors, learning what inspires them to pen these amazing stories, their muse, and their road to publication. Elise Stephens, the author of Moonlight and Oranges, charmed me the second we began to tweet. Publishing her first novel before the age of thirty, I admire her hard work, dedication, and the passion she holds for her craft. Not to mention, she’s one sweet friend. Instead of asking Elise the typical author interview questions, I thought it would be fun if you got to know the person behind the writer.
What’s your favorite ride at the amusement park?
Space Mountain at Disneyland. I like the fastness of roller coasters, without the zero-gravity helplessness of freefalling on the big drops. I like thrills, but only certain kinds, apparently.
If you opened your Kindle, what’s the first book listed?
Exiled by M.R. Merrick. I can’t wait to read it!
Peeta or Gale in the Hunger Games?
Peeta. I’d have to say I’m drawn more to a man who’s faithful, gentle, and steady, than the wild rugged rebel (who may or may not be reliable). Wow, that was very biased.
What’s your favorite song to sing in the shower?
The entire soundtrack from Wicked. “I’m Not That Girl” is a great one I connect with, since I’ve never been anywhere near the perfect California blonde—I’m a brunette with curls and olive skin.
What’s your favorite word and why?
Antidisestablishmentarianism. Just kidding! My favorite is “exquisite.” It’s full of interesting, unusual sounds, it describes beauty or pleasure, and I wouldn’t mind if it was someone applied it to myself or my writing!
If you could play any movie role what would it be and why?
Christine in the movie version of Phantom of the Opera. She’s got gorgeous solos, and I think I could successfully do the “I’m frightened and bewitched and singing” thing she does throughout the film.
Have you ever read a book more than once? What made you read it a second time?
Yes! It’s rare, though. I’ve reread Mrs. Mike, by Benedict and Nancy Freedman. It’s a gorgeous (exquisite, even!) true story about a girl from Boston who falls in love with a Canadian mounty and follows him back to the unWesternized wilds of Canada to start a life together. It’s high adventure, romance, drama, and laughter all rolled into one!
What’s your favorite color of ink?
I prefer to write in black, as long as the ink is really wet and the pen slips across the paper. But violet ink is my second preference (makes me think of Hogwarts!)
Describe your handwriting.
Loopy, a little sloppy, and a mix of print and the cursive I learned in third grade. Fairly legible.
MAC or PC?
I was raised by a networks engineer. I’ve got PC in my bloodstream.
Flip flops or boots?
Boots with comfortable heels, buckles, and a cuff of fur. I might or might not be wearing those right now.
What state haven’t you visited, but want to?
New York. It’s the publishing capitol of the world, not mention the museums, Central Park, and Broadway!
Do you have a muse?
Tea, chocolate, and music, especially music. Song lyrics often tell me stories. Same with personal stories from girl friends of mine.
If you had to live without one, would it be water or electric?
I think it would be electric I’d do without. I love candles and fireplaces and natural light, but I’m not sure I could live without a hot shower. My sanity would be compromised.
About Elise:
Elise Stephens blogs about relationships, life, and inspiration at www.elisestephens.com. Follow her on Twitter @elisestephens and Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorEliseStephens. Elise received the Eugene Van Buren Prize for Fiction from the University of Washington in 2007. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys live theater, swing dancing, eating tiramisu, singing, and painting. She lives in Seattle with her husband James. Her novel Moonlight and Oranges was a quarter-finalist for the 2011 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award.
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My Nicole by Steven Luna
Posted by on March 22, 2012
One of the best things about being an author is getting the opportunity to meet other authors and interacting with them. Steven Luna is someone I hold the utmost respect for. He’s the author of JOE VAMPIRE and someone who stands out from the crowd. It’s not just his outstanding personality that caught my attention or his ability with words (although his words ROCK), he has the most generous soul. Steven and I were in deep discussion one day about Memoirs Aren’t Fairytales and he mentioned he has a *Nicole* in his life. I asked him to tell his story and here it is. Grab a tissue, friends.
MY NICOLE
My Nicole is actually a Nicholas. My nephew. His substance issues came to light in early spring about two years back, when his mother (my sister) was clued in by his girlfriend’s mother. It became very Sixth Sense for the whole family; everyone wandered back through their memories wondering if they had seen – and missed – all the signs.
They had, of course.
So had I.
I’d spoken to him in the weeks prior to The Discovery. Celebrating his 18th birthday, he had gotten a tattoo, and he called to tell me how happy he was with the results…and there was something terribly not right about his speaking. Slurred, though not entirely incoherent. Slow, like he was speaking through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. Sleepy, as if he’d taken allergy medication, only…too much. After the call I discussed this with my wife, who had answered the phone and heard the same thing. “Sounds like he’s on something,” she said.
“Probably pain meds for the tattoo,” I replied. But who takes pain meds for a tattoo?
“We should tell his mom,” she insisted.
“She lives with him; I’m sure she’s there and everything’s fine,” I demurred.
It was light years away from fine.
We just had no idea at the time how far away it actually was.
Two months later, another call came, this time from my sister. “Nicholas is going to detox,” she told me. “He’s been using drugs.” One word; a million meanings.
Suspicions confirmed.
“What kind of drugs are we talking about?” I asked.
“The worst kind of drugs you can think of,” she told me.
Funny, the way she said that. I’m as virginal as it comes where illicit substances are concerned. And so is she. So, to me, pretty much everything in the pantheon implied by the word drugs can be qualified as the worst kind.
But I figured it out.
Having been a psychology major helped a little. Entire courses devoted to dealing with the substance-dependent give you a cursory acquaintance with drug use and its effects. None of it really prepares you for finding out one of your own is shoulder-deep in heroin abuse, though. At least it gave me bearings for what came next. Nicholas went to the hospital.
And there, he detoxed.
And four days later, he came home.
We knew it was too early, but the choice had been made. The whole family went into Mother Duck mode. If before The Discovery I had spoken to him every few months, now I was reaching out weekly, if not daily. And he was responding, eager to convince us all that he was on the right path now. He took online courses and graduated high school – huge hurdle: overcome. By late summer, he and I were pretty tight. We’re similar in many ways: we’re both creative, and musical. We’re both smart-asses. It was an easy fit. I helped him get into a community college, set him up with a schedule and checked him through the first semester to make sure everything was rolling along. He said it was. I had to trust him. Otherwise, I was telling him his efforts weren’t sincere.
By October, he was in full-blown rehab – where he should have been from the first.
By the next spring, he was home.
And the cycle began again.
Relapse, rehab; repeat. Relapse, rehab.
Repeat.
Stories surfaced of horrible things that he’d gone through, and put himself through, the finer details of which I have never been privy to. Maybe I didn’t want to know – or ask, even. At the time, I was focused on his recovery, not his mistakes.
That was my mistake. Maybe.
I didn’t know another way to do it.
Not having heard first-hand the Real Deal about his experiences, I was still clueless. So when I learned about MEMOIRS through Twitter, it didn’t just speak to me; it sang. Like heavy metal opera, minus the leather. Gender differences aside, I was able to see through the eyes of Nicole much of what I’m sure Nicholas had gone through, though I hope to my core that his darkest days weren’t half as harrowing as what I read about. But the downward spiral detailed in the book was illuminating. And now I know.
And so, I can never be ignorant again.
Nicholas is currently in Florida, in continued rehab. Looking healthy, sounding clean. A thousand miles from home, reinventing his life with others who know exactly what his struggle is. Something I could never know. Most likely, something I could never really help him with, psych degree or no psych degree. But that’s okay. He has to walk this path and fix his own soul. I believe he’ll do it this time. I have faith in him.
It’s the only offering I can make that I know he’ll accept from me.
May his spiral – and that of everyone else in the same situation – continue in upward fashion.
BIO:
Steven Luna was relatively quiet when he was born, but that all changed once he learned to speak. Now? Good luck getting him to shut up. He’s a lover of words, some of his favorites being “askew”, “rhinoceros”, and “plexiglas”. He’s written for children before, and now he’s writing for adults. Someday he may write for the womb-bound or the elderly, but he’ll need a little more convincing before he pulls the ripcord on that parachute. For now, he’s hard at work on his next big novel…but it probably won’t feature the word “plexiglas”. “Askew” and “rhinoceros”, however, are still on the table.
You can find Steven on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.
His novel, JOE VAMPIRE, can be purchased on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
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A Voice For The Voiceless: Heather Huffman
Posted by on March 6, 2012
I’m so excited to introduce you to Heather Huffman, author, mom, multiple-hat-wearer-extraordinaire. Heather was kind enough to let me interview her and discuss a topic she’s passionate about *human trafficking*. For those of you who don’t know, addiction is extremely common in human trafficking, but I’ll let Heather tell you more about that. Heather’s latest novel, Tubleweeds, was just released on Amazon and she’s even shared a sample with us below. If you click HERE you can check out all of Heather’s novels, as well as her author page on Amazon.
Heather, so what kind of novels do you write?
I write books that would make good date night movies. They usually fall under the category romantic suspense, but they’re also warm and funny reads. Many of my novels include human trafficking as an element of the story as a way to raise awareness for this global issue.
How did you first get involved in the fight against human trafficking?
I first learned about human trafficking when researching my debut novel, Throwaway. I was stunned to find that slavery was thriving all over the globe, even in my own backyard. When I wrote Suddenly a Spy, I learned even more, and it solidified for me that I wanted my books to be a voice for the voiceless.
I started out by giving my first four books away online to raise awareness. They were downloaded more than 50,000 times and even translated into Russian. I started hearing from rescued slaves, foster children, and those on the front lines of the fight. The final piece fell into place when I was contacted by Booktrope. They re-released the first four novels, and have published two more of my novels since that time. Within the first six weeks of being re-released under the Booktrope imprint, Throwaway was downloaded 150,000 times! I’m so grateful for how supportive they’ve been of what I want to do with the books – it’s enabled me to reach an audience I never could have on my own.
What role does addiction play in human trafficking?
Often traffickers control their victims through manipulation and addiction. My sources tell me that black tar heroin is a drug of choice, and that victims are pumped full of this deadly narcotic for several days to ensure compliance.
This is disturbing enough without stopping to consider that many times the person being drugged is a child, often about age twelve – though it’s not unusual for the child to be seven or eight years old. Just last week I met a girl who’d been enslaved at the age of four.
Understanding addiction and how to help these children recover from addiction is vital to helping rescued victims be restored.
Can you share a fun fact with my readers?
I’m glad you asked that – my sisters accuse me of being a depressing conversationalist sometimes, so I’m thrilled to end this post on a happy note!
In my latest release, Tumbleweed, the main character, Hailey, briefly shares a story about the time when she jumped off of Dead Man’s Bluff. Here’s her telling of it:
Once, when I was a kid, I’d gotten the bright idea to jump off of a cliff named “Dead Man’s Bluff” into the lake. After what seemed like an eternity of freefalling, I had the even brighter idea to plug my nose to keep water from shooting up it at what I assumed would be an alarming speed.
That movement was enough to throw off my equilibrium, so I landed in a sitting position. The water felt like concrete, the pain was immediate and intense, and there for a second I was pretty sure I was drowning.
What the book doesn’t tell you is that this happened to me, and waiting in the lake was a young man I was quite sure I was in love with at the time. To make matters worse, my swimsuit came off on impact. He was thought I was drowning, so he was frantically pulling me up as I was fighting like the dickens to stay under until I could get my suit on, before it was forever lost in the lake.
Of course, my whole family was there, and they tease me about it to this very day. My entire backside was bruised for weeks after that little adventure, too. I can’t say I regret it; it felt like I was flying for a few exhilarating seconds. Still, I don’t think there will ever be a repeat performance!
About Heather’s novel, Tumbleweed:
In this long-anticipated prequel to international hit THROWAWAY, Heather Huffman takes her readers on a journey of friendship, love and family ties. The message is clear: Never stop fighting for the life you believe in.
Longing for a fresh start and a place to belong, Hailey leaves behind her city life, trading her cubical for a struggling horse ranch in the Ozark Mountains. With her young son at her side and her family’s skepticism echoing in her head, Hailey is faced with more work than she ever could have imagined and a troublesome neighbor. In the midst of it all, the last thing Hailey needs is romance – despite the undeniable, growing attraction for her handsome and charming boss, Ethan.
Just as Hailey finds her dreams tantalizingly within reach, her new world is devastated in a cruel twist of fate. She must find the strength to rebuild all she’s dreamed of – or risk forever drifting through life like a tumbleweed.
Heather Huffman fans will not want to miss this heart-warming introduction to Ethan and Hailey, beloved owners of the Tumbleweed Ranch featured in THROWAWAY and RING OF FIRE!
About Heather:
Heather was born and spent her early childhood in Florida, but now calls the beautiful state of Missouri home. Her greatest joy, aside from writing, is to hit the road with her three boys for adventures unknown.
Heather is the author of Throwaway, Ties that Bind, Jailbird, Suddenly a Spy, Ring of Fire and Tumbleweed. She shares the passion of her resilient heroines to make a difference, and so dedicates both her time and a portion of her book royalties to organizations that fight against human trafficking.
You can find out more about her writing and charitable work on www.heatherhuffman.net.
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Write For the Fight!
Posted by on March 1, 2012
Several months ago, Tess Hardwick asked me to contribute to an anthology she was putting together with Tracey Hansen, a soon-to-be Booktrope author. Tess described the project as an anthology exploring the seasons of life, and all participating authors would donate their profits to breast cancer research and awareness. I was honored to Write For the Fight.
“Tracey Hansen and I had a crazy idea for a book. Feeling sad and hopeless over how many lives have been altered or ended because of breast cancer, we decided, quite literally, to write for the fight.” – Tess Hardwick
Booktrope held a contest to choose the participating authors, and writers from all over the world submitted essays. Booktrope chose the following 11 authors: Gordon Bonnet, Galit Breen, F. Jo Bruce, Derek Flynn, Jesse James Freeman, Laura Kilmartin, Marni Mann, Karla J. Nellenbach, Terry Persun, Laura Tiberio, and Laura Zera. Within the book, each author has four published essays that are grouped by life’s seasons: childhood, young adulthood, middle-age, and old age. I can probably speak for all the authors when I say these prompts weren’t easy to answer. After months of hard work from everyone involved, including Diane Hughes (editor), Greg Simanson (cover design), Heather Ludviksson (marketing manager), and Bea Thompson (cover artist) Write For the Fight is a compilation of the most honest, heart-felt essays I have ever read.
Here’s the back cover blurb:
WRITE FOR THE FIGHT: A Collection of Seasonal Essays
Authors Tess Hardwick and Tracey Hansen, inspired by the myriad voices in the world, compile a melting pot of life paths from over a dozen unique individuals, each exploring the four timeless questions we’ve all pondered:
- What do you miss about being 5 years old?
- What would you tell your 20-year-old self?
- What, at this point in your life, do you want, wish and dream of for your life going forward?
- What would you want said about you on your 80th birthday?
These experiences make us who we are, defining our personalities, perspectives and dreams as we move through the seasons of life – from memories at age 5 to the person we hope to be described as on our 80th birthday.
From the thoughtful to the blunt, experienced to the young – WRITE FOR THE FIGHT is a humorous and emotional journey that will take you back to the best of times and get you energized for the future. All writer royalties will be donated to charities benefiting the fight against breast cancer.
I’m proud to announce, Write For the Fight was released yesterday on Barnes & Noble. We have partnered with Nook exclusively for one month, beginning on March 4th. After a month, Write For the Fight will be available for any eBook device or paperback.
According to the National Breast Cancer Foundation, nearly 200,000 women are diagnosed with breast cancer each year and more than 40,000 will die. Please support this amazing cause by telling your friends and family about Write For the Fight. The more books we sell, the more money we can donate.
Book bloggers, avid readers, and peeps, Booktrope is willing to send you a free copy of Write For the Fight in exchange for an honest review on Barnes & Noble’s website. If any of you are interested, please contact me.
“Sell books to save lives. Write For the Fight.” – Tess Hardwick
Fight To Write: Allie Burke
Posted by on January 30, 2012
I’m so excited for all of you to meet Allie Burke, the last writer participating in the Fight To Write series. Allie is the author of the paranormal romance trilogy, The Enchanters: Violet Midnight, Emerald Destiny, and soon to be released Amber Passion. During the time I’ve known Allie, she’s shown me how dreams are attainable, compassion, encouragement, warmth, and a style of writing I’m positively addicted to. Allie’s heart is bigger than the stories she creates, which are massive, and I’m honored to call her my friend.
Chosen at random, I’m going to gift a copy of Violet Midnight to someone who comments on this post. Allie has offered to gift one as well, so there are two eBooks available. Don’t forget to leave a comment, my friends!
Fight… to write.
How do I? Fight for my… write?
I have a tattoo on my right leg. Most know it as the logo for the band Rise Against. Me… I know different. Fight for what you love, it tells me. Every single day, it reminds me of… me. Don’t quit, it says. Love it. Love yourself. Be yourself.
E.L. Doctorow tells us that writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia. Bullshit. Schizophrenia is not socially acceptable and neither is writing. Being a writer. You… write? What does that mean? What could you possibly have to write about?
Sure, people shop in bookstores (not lately, but you know), pick up e-books for their Kindle, but, as you read the words on the page, fall into the world that is laid out for you, do you really consider what went into that? When you review a book on Goodreads as the worst book in existence, do you think, that maybe, there is a reason that novel is written his way and not yours?
We sit for hours – days – in front of a computer, bleeding our hearts onto the page, looking like we couldn’t work a shower if our lives depended on it. We don’t eat. We don’t sleep. We go to our day jobs with no memory of how we came to be there, counting down the minutes until we can rush home and start the cycle all over again. Is it socially acceptable? No, it’s not. Does that stop us?
It shouldn’t.
I lock myself in a room for hours on end, effectively separating myself from… everything. Friends – family – don’t appreciate being ignored. The world can’t decide whether or not to take me seriously as I walk around like some kind of red-headed zombie (except that guy at work that holds the door open for me like I’m some kind of rock star or something – true story).
But… I don’t care.
A very good friend of mine recently told me that writing was in my blood. When I asked him how he knew that, he answered simply…
Because I know you.
To write, I fight. I fight for that which is me, that which is my right to be. Me. A writer who believes in made up words, three word sentences, and the right to love herself, despite what the “socially acceptable” world thinks of her and her tactics.
Be yourself. Love. Fight. I do.
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The More I Write the Less I Cook: Tess Hardwick
Posted by on January 27, 2012
If this is your first time stopping by my blog then you haven’t heard me rave about Tess Hardwick. For those of you who are regular readers, you probably feel like you already know her since I’ve bragged about her in several of my posts. She’s affected my life in the most monumental way and I’m honored she agreed to stop by my blog to share her words with you. Tess is the author of the best-selling novel, Riversong, she’s also a playwright, mother, and proud dog owner. Despite being strapped for time (see below), like me, she gets her best ideas while in the shower where she’s plotting and finalizing her second novel.
Chosen at random, I’m going to gift a copy of RIVERSONG to someone who comments on this post. So don’t forget to leave a comment, my friends!
I open the minivan door and my daughters tumble out and then run onto the playground, waving to friends, excited to be back at school after a week of snowstorms and power outages. I hit the gym next, convinced that everything good comes from exercise. Then, I head home, already planning in my mind what I need to accomplish for the day. I’ve three guest posts due, along with notes on my manuscript I’m itching to tackle. I trudge upstairs, my thighs burning from all the squats, to my bedroom, thinking I should shower before I offend the dog.
The bathroom looks like a turbulent weather pattern hit. A hairdryer, my husband’s shaving cream, a stray lipstick, several toothbrushes, a dish with a sliver of white soap, and three tubes of toothpaste are scattered and left in the haste of our morning routine. Clumps of toothpaste, such a gooey, stubborn, substance is all over the counter and in the sink. Emerson’s a messy tooth brusher. Why are there three tubes of toothpaste out and open? I don’t know. We shop at Costco and everything comes like that, in groups of threes and fives, like when you decorate.
I shower in haste, the minutes ticking away. I only have until 3, at which time the children come home from school. I pull on clothes, my skin still damp. I can’t find my hairbrush. No matter how often I tell the girls to leave my things alone, they take it, wandering off, probably dreaming of being a princess or, in Ella’s case, using it for a pretend microphone. I should brush my hair but instead I leave it, knowing it will dry frizzy and out of control. But I don’t care enough to spend time hunting for the brush. The minutes are ticking away. I’ll put a hat on before I get the kids, I tell myself.
While I was in the shower, the dog found a roll of toilet paper and tore it into slobbery shreds all over the bedroom floor. I should make the bed, I think. It will make me feel more in control, more centered. So I do it but I don’t tuck the sheets under the mattress like I learned when I was a hotel maid for a summer in college. It takes too long.
Downstairs, breakfast dishes wait, pieces of waffle stuck to plates, eggshells at the bottom of the sink, a discarded cup of coffee near the stove. The laundry room door is open. I’m certain the dirty laundry has multiplied since yesterday. I close the door. I remember the missing library book is due today. I’ll make Ella look for it when she gets home. I have no idea what I’m making for dinner. Then, I remember Dave barbequed chicken we could have on multiple nights. I feel a slight tinge of guilt .I used to cook. I wonder if he remembers those days?
But I put it all aside. I open my computer. Patches, my aforementioned dog, plops on the couch, acting exhausted. He knows the routine. I write; he naps. I find the first paragraph of the manuscript. It pulls me inside this world I’ve created, as I try to perfect the telling of this latest story manifested from both my experiences and imagination. I’m gone, for hours. Later, the phone rings. It’s my mother and we chat briefly. She knows I’m working, knows I covet the time when my children are at school because she’s been there, she remembers. She’s an artist too. Some of her watercolor paintings are on my wall; they remind me that to do something you love is the finest gift you can give your children. Because they will notice, they will remember. They will have it to examine and emulate as they begin their own endeavors. And I hope it will help them to never give up, to never stop fighting for what they want. I hope they’ll believe, as I do, that to use your gifts is the highest glorification of God. And although I kept at it through success and failure and all the sweat and grime and doubt and glory in between, it never made me love them less, only better, because I was happy.
They might remember mediocre dinners too. They certainly will remember the time I forgot to pick them up from early release at school because I was so immersed in my manuscript that I lost track of time. But I have to chance it; I have to hope that my contentment, my utter delight, with this life I’ve made for myself will overshadow my shortcomings. Because writing feeds this hunger I have to create, to express. I don’t know why. I only know, now, to do it, to write, to put it first, before cooking or cleaning or trying to be the perfect mother and wife. This is who I am. And it’s worth the fight.
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