I'm the one with the hand over my eyes . . . my little brother hadn't been born, yetPsychologists say that growing up one of eight siblings, one of seven daughters and one of a set of twins are all "adversities". I, however, thought it was great fun! I adored each and every member of my family, wanted to be just like them and even hero-worshipped a few of them. However, I did have one problem: as daughter number six, born five minutes after the child who was expected to be a single until two weeks before our birth, I must have felt a bit lost in the shuffle. I don’t remember thinking that consciously but, looking back, the feeling that there was no niche left for me has dictated many of my actions throughout the years.
For example, my sisters were, variously, smart, wise and witty, funny, fashionable and pretty. There were the ones who were very popular with the boys, the ones who had lots of friends, the ones who had lots of talents, the ones who had my parents’ respect. It seemed to me the only labels available by the time I arrived were “dramatic”, “sensitive”, “vain”, “conceited” and “she who will not eat beets”. I didn’t have my own room, my own look (since my twin and I looked pretty much exactly alike) or even my own birthday. In fact, until my little brother was five years old, I didn’t even have my own name! He thought each of us was called “Heidiandholly”. Or was it “Hollyandheidi”?
When I was in the sixth grade, I remember going to our rival elementary school for a softball game between our team and theirs. The catcher was a lovely girl with lots of curves and long, dark, hair who was clearly very popular because everyone was constantly calling her name. It was “Heidi, Heidi, Heidi,” all afternoon and they weren’t referring to me. I despised her not for her beauty or popularity but because she had the one thing I had ever really been able to call my own—my name.
Meanwhile, I had wonderful, fantastic parents who were, understandably, fully consumed with the business of raising a large family. Getting any one-on-one time with them was rare and an opportunity to be cherished. When I was seven, my dad spent some time with me teaching me to play chess. I was so proud of myself for beating him a few times and feeling like I really knew how to play. It was years later before I realized he must have let me win. However, this was such a happy thing for me that I wrote a little story about a chess piece. As soon as I finished it, I brought it to my mother to read. She was out in the backyard pulling weeds but she stopped what she was doing to carefully read it and to encourage me.
From that moment on, I knew what I was going to do with the rest of my life: I was going to be a writer. I had found my niche, my definition of myself that was as much uniquely mine as my name and thenceforth I spent countless hours scribbling little stories and reading everything of interest. I studied the lives of the authors I admired and took typing classes in Jr. High as well as High School so I would be able to submit proper manuscripts when the time came. I wrote pages and pages of poetry, subscribed to writer’s magazines, entered contests and eventually wrote several full-length books. I even submitted one for publication (it was rejected—that time). As a newly married wife, I took a correspondence course in writing children’s literature and later, as a young mother, I took a class in writing romance novels and joined various writer’s groups including an online email group frequented by some of my favorite authors.
In short, I was determined.
I remember well the day I knew I must give it all up. We were living in Littleton, Colorado and the Columbine massacre had just occurred. There was a lot of speculation on the news about the boys who had committed these murders and their character—or lack thereof. Knowing little to nothing at the time of the Big Guy's physical, mental and learning disabilities but fully aware of the result they had on the people around him, I felt a lot of fear that he would one day be just like these two boys who had killed so many and cast a pall of grief over the entire town.
For example, my sisters were, variously, smart, wise and witty, funny, fashionable and pretty. There were the ones who were very popular with the boys, the ones who had lots of friends, the ones who had lots of talents, the ones who had my parents’ respect. It seemed to me the only labels available by the time I arrived were “dramatic”, “sensitive”, “vain”, “conceited” and “she who will not eat beets”. I didn’t have my own room, my own look (since my twin and I looked pretty much exactly alike) or even my own birthday. In fact, until my little brother was five years old, I didn’t even have my own name! He thought each of us was called “Heidiandholly”. Or was it “Hollyandheidi”?
When I was in the sixth grade, I remember going to our rival elementary school for a softball game between our team and theirs. The catcher was a lovely girl with lots of curves and long, dark, hair who was clearly very popular because everyone was constantly calling her name. It was “Heidi, Heidi, Heidi,” all afternoon and they weren’t referring to me. I despised her not for her beauty or popularity but because she had the one thing I had ever really been able to call my own—my name.
Meanwhile, I had wonderful, fantastic parents who were, understandably, fully consumed with the business of raising a large family. Getting any one-on-one time with them was rare and an opportunity to be cherished. When I was seven, my dad spent some time with me teaching me to play chess. I was so proud of myself for beating him a few times and feeling like I really knew how to play. It was years later before I realized he must have let me win. However, this was such a happy thing for me that I wrote a little story about a chess piece. As soon as I finished it, I brought it to my mother to read. She was out in the backyard pulling weeds but she stopped what she was doing to carefully read it and to encourage me.
From that moment on, I knew what I was going to do with the rest of my life: I was going to be a writer. I had found my niche, my definition of myself that was as much uniquely mine as my name and thenceforth I spent countless hours scribbling little stories and reading everything of interest. I studied the lives of the authors I admired and took typing classes in Jr. High as well as High School so I would be able to submit proper manuscripts when the time came. I wrote pages and pages of poetry, subscribed to writer’s magazines, entered contests and eventually wrote several full-length books. I even submitted one for publication (it was rejected—that time). As a newly married wife, I took a correspondence course in writing children’s literature and later, as a young mother, I took a class in writing romance novels and joined various writer’s groups including an online email group frequented by some of my favorite authors.
In short, I was determined.
I remember well the day I knew I must give it all up. We were living in Littleton, Colorado and the Columbine massacre had just occurred. There was a lot of speculation on the news about the boys who had committed these murders and their character—or lack thereof. Knowing little to nothing at the time of the Big Guy's physical, mental and learning disabilities but fully aware of the result they had on the people around him, I felt a lot of fear that he would one day be just like these two boys who had killed so many and cast a pall of grief over the entire town.
In fact, I had known before then that something at my house had to give—it had been so painful to have my focus constantly pulled away from my writing by the unusually high demands of my undiagnosed (therefore, un-helped) family members. Suddenly, never being published, a dream of mine for twenty plus years, seemed a small thing compared to the agony of regret I would feel if my husband or children became the lead story on the six o’clock news because I was too busy pursuing a writing career to meet their needs.
Over the course of the next ten or so years the dream would rise to the surface now and again like an unquenchable thirst. When that happened I always pushed it down and away, reminding myself that I was barely managing my much more important role of wife and mother and there was no time to give to the writing of books. One of these times was when a friend with whom I had taken a writing class years before finally found a publisher for the sweet romances we both enjoyed writing. I was so happy for her and only a little sad for me. It wasn’t until she sold her third book that she really started to pressure me into submitting a manuscript I had written over a dozen years before. I always changed the subject when she said these things but she never gave up. Then, when my youngest was out of kindergarten and in school all day, I finally felt like I had the time to deal with the demands of this particular publisher. After re-tooling the manuscript for a broader audience (i.e. someone other than die-hard Jane Austen fans who know that a beaver is not an animal but a hat, a spencer is a lady’s jacket because a jacket was something only a man would wear and that envelopes had not yet been invented) I submitted it.
Eight months later, I received the call that made me a published author. I was so incredibly sick with a rotten cold that day I could barely enjoy it but I have known much joy since then as a result of my succeeding at something I had worked at for so long.
Even better than the approval of a real live editor was the A- my father gave my book (he claims it would have been an A+ if I had developed a better relationship between the hero and his horse, if I had set the story farther out west and if there had actually been bullets in the gun for the duel but not all books can be Westerns), and my mother’s reaction. She told me that as she read it she chuckled and said to herself “She did it!”
And I had. Finally, I had done something that none of my sisters had and I, in some small way, had a chance to stand out for something good and positive that I had achieved.
I “did it” in more ways than, that, however. As much as I have craved the recognition and approval of my parents (it is often thus in large families) I have benefited far greater from the personalized, intimate attention from my Father in Heaven. Though much of the world might think being a published author is an unworthy desire (at least in the grand scheme of things), He knew exactly what it meant to me and why. When I gave it up to better honor the stewardships I was given by Him, He took my sacrifice and turned it into the sweetest gift of frosting a cake has ever known---and not just because my little book finally made it between covers but because, in spite of the billions of daughters He has . . . He knows my name.
Eight months later, I received the call that made me a published author. I was so incredibly sick with a rotten cold that day I could barely enjoy it but I have known much joy since then as a result of my succeeding at something I had worked at for so long.
Even better than the approval of a real live editor was the A- my father gave my book (he claims it would have been an A+ if I had developed a better relationship between the hero and his horse, if I had set the story farther out west and if there had actually been bullets in the gun for the duel but not all books can be Westerns), and my mother’s reaction. She told me that as she read it she chuckled and said to herself “She did it!”
And I had. Finally, I had done something that none of my sisters had and I, in some small way, had a chance to stand out for something good and positive that I had achieved.
I “did it” in more ways than, that, however. As much as I have craved the recognition and approval of my parents (it is often thus in large families) I have benefited far greater from the personalized, intimate attention from my Father in Heaven. Though much of the world might think being a published author is an unworthy desire (at least in the grand scheme of things), He knew exactly what it meant to me and why. When I gave it up to better honor the stewardships I was given by Him, He took my sacrifice and turned it into the sweetest gift of frosting a cake has ever known---and not just because my little book finally made it between covers but because, in spite of the billions of daughters He has . . . He knows my name.
It’s hard to believe it was two whole years ago (could it really have been that long?) I was hard at work over the beastly mid-section (always the hardest part to write) of Miss Delacourt Has Her Day. Hard to believe that it was two whole years ago I was working hard (it's been a hard two years, hence my affinity for the word "hard") at promoting Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind. Two whole years ago that I was preparing for a trip to Utah where I had the chance to meet so many of my blog friends. It kind of boggles the mind, or, at least, my mind, easily boggled as it is.
It was two years and roughly two weeks ago that I had a Valentine’s Day book signing here in the San Francisco Bay area and I was privileged to meet a local blog friend for the first time. What a gift! She has been so kind, so supportive and the best kind of friend a gal could have ever since. (Bless you, Blogdania!) She was also the first of my blog friends to read Miss D (she boldly asked if she could please read it before it was even between hard covers, and I said yes. I barely knew her at the time but it was a great trade because now I know her well and, like I said, what a gift!) and one of my super smart readers to critique MD2 before it even got to my publisher.
I think it only fitting that she should kick off the Miss Delacourt Has Her Day book tour. She promises she has good things to say. The trouble is, I don’t know if I made all the changes to the manuscript she suggested so I could be in for a dressing down of a most public kind. (Just kidding! Or am I? . . .you'll have to go and find out.)
But, before we go there, I want to talk about this week’s giveaway. Another dear blog friend, one who held a book club/book signing event for me at her house, fabulous water-color artist, Jana Parkin, has painted a “Miss D inspired” picture of a rose (those of us who are in the know, know that Miss D is all about roses). When she told me about it, I asked if it were possible to give away a print of the original but she very generously offered to give away the actual painting itself. Wow! (Go here for examples of her work and be sure to check out her bio—again, wow!)
In order to have the chance (or many chances) to win this painting (photo of the actual art work to surface later today, this week, this month, not sure yet . . .) you must do one of the following—doing more than one increases your odds accordingly. (And, yes, this is a flagrant attempt to spread the word about my book, which, incidentally, is .24 off the cover price on Amazon.com today. I’m self-promotional that way.)
1. comment on this post
2. blog about the contest
3. include a link to this post on your FB status
4. add Miss Delacourt Has Her day to your Goodreads “to read” list
5. post a Goodreads review of Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (if you’ve read it)
6. post an Amazon review for Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (if you’ve read it)
7. request that your library buy either or both Miss D books
8. Tweet about it (I don’t tweet or twitter--though I sometimes twit (to taunt, ridicule or tease)--so I’m totally going to have to take your word on this one. Remember, cheaters never prosper.)
You will need to leave me your email or blog address so I can contact you if you win. Also, you will need to let me know which of the above you have done so I can count it (most of it is verifiable so I’ll be checking). This contest starts today and runs through the end of the blog tour on March 31st. You will want to win this contest, I guarantee it! Good luck!
In the meantime, if you scroll down to the previous post or click HERE you can find the Goodreads giveaway of Miss Delacourt Has Her Day going on all month, as well. Sign up and hope for the best!
Now, on to Jami at Superfluous Miscellany who took time out of a super busy day and arm wrestled her kids for the computer to create a piece of art totally worth the read, in and of itself. Wow! (That's pretty much all I can say.)
Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind comes out in May in large print through Thorndike. She'll be a whopping 346 pages (bigger print=more pages) and sporting a new cover. Tell me what you think! Leave a comment or vote via the poll in my sidebar. (Can you tell I'm brain dead today? In fact, I am so lacking in brain power this morning, I'm going to allow myself to hold a giveaway for a copy of the new and substantially more expensive Miss D. Yes, this is your chance to own a larger than life version of Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind smothered in what looks like royal frosting roses! Yum! For a chance to win, leave a comment on this post. For a second chance at winning, blog about it, include the permalink to this post and be sure to come back and tell me that you did so I know--because, I'm brain dead. Did I mention that? The winner to be announced Monday April 6th at 6 P.M. California time. Tell your friends!) (Also, if you comment and it isn't showing up, it's because I have my comments set up to be moderated after three days--just go ahead and click and I'll get it published ASAP. Thanks!)
1. Do not read nasty book review on Goodreads right before going to bed. It is counter productive to one's sleep.
(So, yeah, this is my first experience with getting a bad review. Phew! Do these people read what other people are saying about Miss D? Do they not wonder why their opinion is so off from what the professional reviewers are saying or even the unprofessional reviews? Personally, I would feel weird about saying how bad a book is when most everyone else likes it anywhere from a lot to fair-to-middling. I can understand it if they don't like my book but do they have to be so cruel about it? Do they not realize that it is a person who is reading it, a person with feelings? Whine whine whine) (more whining)
Sorry if you don't see me around the blogs Thursday. I will be busy getting a root canal then burying my head under my pillow.
The five of us had our teeth checked, photo'ed (I know, not a word) cleaned and polished. Now, instead of having yellow teeth, I have teeth that are a kind of a fluorescent shiny yellow. Yay. (I think.)
I got home and read all my comments and the last was about Miss D--so I went, post haste, to T's blog where she wrote lovely and tiltillating things about Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (you can too) (er, read what she wrote, that is) and in her comments saw that there are people making comments along the lines of how they are unable to lay hands on the lovely Miss D! (Annette, I apologize profusely if I have used lay when I should have used lie.)
1) go to ldspublisher.blogspot.com where they are having a giveaway until the end of December. There is time--now go! (In fact, my very last copy that I have here at my house is just waiting to be signed and mailed to the winner of this contest.)
2) If your library doesn't have it ASK them to buy it. YES! You can do that!
3) If they thumb their nose at you ASK them to PLEASE borrow it from a library that has it. This is called an interlibrary transfer. This CAN be done. Go to worldcat.org, type in Miss D's full name and it will give you the list of the libraries that carry Miss D. It's just that simple.
Meanwhile, I am glad to report that there was no hurling, barfing, puking, up-chucking, vomiting or casting up of accounts at the dentist today. All was well. Yay for us!
I have been a lazy bloggist of late but I have company coming in from out of town today and lots of blog-neglected cleaning to do. So, just a few quick words on Miss D; there are some who want a sequel (how cool is that?--love you guys!). I actually have come up with the beginning paragraph of the book and a possible conflict that might/could/possibly keep Ginny and Sir Anthony apart. Meanwhile, per my calculations via the information found on worldcat.org, about 402 copies of Miss D have been sold to libraries by its release date of Dec. 24th. Yay Miss D! I'll be back next week with my favorite santa claus story and, unaccountably, a picture of my front door (because Kazzy wants to see tho I don't know why).
Miss Delacourt won't be making her official curtsy to the Queen until December 24th, however, she is a sensible young lady so her mother has declared her unofficially "out". This means that she is allowed to accept invitations to your home where she promises to be a delight to all who come to know her (which is regency-speak for Miss Delacourt has hit libraries all over the country and people are reading her. People I don't even know, have never even heard of! )
As you can imagine, this is pretty epic, mind-boggling and tres exciting! On Monday morning I reported that six library systems (there are multiple libraries in each system) have ordered one or more copies of Miss D. There are now 49 on the list (click on the book cover in the sidebar to be taken to the list of library systems). However, not all library systems are with worldcat.org. I have discovered, through the efforts of a friend in San Jose, that the library system there has ordered 15 copies of Miss D! There is no sign of this on worldcat.org, the link to which the book cover takes you should you click on it. I am about to go through the list to see just how many books have been purchased by libraries (that I know of) and how many books are checked out and being read right this moment. I will be updating this post when I know the full scoop while trying to get ready for the Big Guy's 19th birthday party. And put away Halloween. And get the kids ready for church tomorrow. Oh, man, my head hurts! At least the Big Guy doesn't want cake--he wants banana splits and hot fudge sundaes. For which I am very grateful!
UPDATE: There are 51 library systems (that I know of) that carry Miss D and 75 different libraries with 77 books purchased so far. Four of them have been checked out (most libraries don't have their copy on the shelves, yet) and four people have put a hold on it. If any of those are you, please comment and let me know. Yay!
I got a review for my book. This has been established. It is from Booklist which I think I mentioned in yesterday's post. To have a review from Booklist is way exciting! To have a review that doesn't say anything bad about your book is a gem. I know when you read it that you might think it sounds rather modest, but I can tell by how this reviewer, (a man no less!), reviews the plot that he enjoyed my book! So, here is it . . .
"It was all the fault of his blasted grandmother’s roses. If the dowager Duchess of Marcross hadn’t insisted that Sir Anthony Crenshaw travel to her country estate to check up on her priceless roses, Anthony would still be comfortably ensconced in his London townhouse rather than rattling around rough country roads with the old termagant’s ward, Ginerva Delacourt. Of course, the journey is fraught with one disaster after another, ultimately culminating in a house party from hell when Anthony and Ginny find themselves staying with a neighbor after Ginny’s maid comes down with a contagious disease. Spending even more time with the opinionated, annoying Ginny seems like the worst sort of holiday imaginable, but much to his surprise, Anthony soon discovers he enjoys battling wits with the always outspoken Miss Delacourt. Ashworth takes some of the stock staples of the traditional regency and gives them her own unique spin in this refreshingly sweet, tartly humorous romance. "
—John Charles
Okay, return to your regularly scheduled programing--post later today . . .
P.S. Gol-darn, I hope this doesn't sound like I am bragging. I'm just sharing. It's just one little book, not the Nobel Peace Prize, right?
Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind is up for pre-sale at Overstock.com! Woo hoo! I'm famous!
http://www.overstock.com/Books-Movies-Music-Games/Miss-Delacourt-Speaks-Her-Mind-Hardcover/3365202/product.html
and here at Half.com
http://books.products.half.ebay.com/Regency-Romance_W0QQcZ4QQsortZ30376QQsoZ2QQpgZ8QQcatZ108901
It is also for sale at Amazon.com and Target.com, however, if you are local and have a strong, burning, just-can't-reach-it-to-scratch-it itch-type desire to purchase my book (you don't have to!!!) it would be please me greatly if you wait and buy it at my book signing (date and time still in negotiations). Thanks!
Recommendation: Lying in bed while your husband reads to you. From your own book. Indescribable.
However, this can be distracting to the reader. I tend to chuckle in the middle of a sentence in anticipation of what is coming next.
My bad.
Even though it is still months before my book comes out, an advance "review" is up on the Avalon Books website. It is a quote from one of my favorite authors of all time, Barbara Metzger, who writes sweet, light and very entertaining regency romance. ard to choose just one or two. If you want to see the quote go to www.avalonbooks.com
It will still be some months before the book is sent out for a full review. Do I want a review? Yes! But what if "they" don't like it? Ackkk! Such is the life of an artist, as Basil T points out--what an artist produces is art and is up for interpretation and comment on said interpretation and it all isn't going to be good. It just isn't. Maybe I should send a copy of my book to Basil for review . . .What do you say, Basil?
If you haven't already, please take a moment to voice (silently) your opinion of the art work for the cover to my book, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her mind, on the poll to the right. Meanwhile, I have been corresponding with a favorite author of mine, a wonderful writer of witty regency romance, who has agreed to read my manuscript and provide a quote, or as people in the biz say, a "blurb". Blurbs can go on the dust jacket, (or printed on the back cover of a paperback) used in articles, etc. So, I am really excited about that! But mostly, this whole thing seems so totally unreal--I can't quite wrap my brain around it. If I were an aspiring writer with no publisher lined up, would I be able to get someone like B**** M**** to read my book? Doubtful. Get a publisher and doors open right up! It's kind of strange since it's the same me, the same book--but a magic wand has been waved. Mentally, I feel a bit like a deer caught in headlights. Stay tuned for more news on my book, on my trip to Nauvoo and my nephew's big day.
The book cover for my novel, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind, has just come to me via email. Roses do play a large role in this book (at least, compared to other inanimate objects) which is why there is such a large one on the cover. What I like best about this image is that my name is in pink. It is a bit hard to read in this picture, but it's there, right under that great big rose. This image also shows the spine of the book to the left. I also like the font--fun, huh? I have put up a poll so you can tell me, anonymously, of course, what you think of this cover. You can choose more than one option. More of our adventures in tornado country to come tomorrow . . .
My good friend Shirley sent me some exciting info today. It is a link to worldcat which keeps track of how many libraries have how many copies of a certain book, etc. So far, one library in the world has ordered my book. Woo hoo! I also now know my ISBN which is a number that is assigned all published books. I'm official! The site also has a link to Amazon, however, at this time, it is too soon for Amazon to have info on my book. In the future, that link will work to find my book at Amazon's online store. This is way too much fun! To see what I am talking about, go to www.worldcat.org/oclc/229446355?tab=holdings#tabs
When I started this blog, the ticker at the top of the page said 7 months (and so forth) until my book, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind, comes out. It has been down to 6 months (and some weeks and days) for nearly a week, now, so clearly it is time to readdress the subject. So, here goes. Ahem! January 23, 2008 was the day I got “the call”, the day I found out that Avalon Books wanted to publish my book, and I was sick. With a virus. Again. In fact, I had a horrible sinus infection. My entire system was clogged up with all sorts of phlegm hanging out in my head, sinuses, ears, throat, not to mention my nose. In fact, a few days later would be “the day” (not to be confused with “the call”) I went through 3 boxes of Kleenex in a 24 hour period. My husband, who has a much better math brain than I, figured I needed to blow my nose every two minutes to use that much tissue. Considering I was asleep, off and on, for about a third of that time meant there were moments when the nose-blowing rate was much higher. I suppose that would be mostly because each and every blow was at least a two tissue job.
These were sad days indeed, but they were very much brightened by the news that I had sold my book. (Except for that awful 24 hours--even the achievement of a 30-some-odd-year desire wasn’t enough to banish my gloom.) The newsworthy point of this story, the part that someone other than myself might find interesting (though, there is a lot of wishful thinking in that statement, I must admit) was my state of total goofiness when the call finally came.
Imagine, if you will, a woman whose goal to have a published novel has been beating solidly in her heart since she was seven years old. A woman who knows that this is really the one and only chance for this particular “baby” of hers to come to light without producing numerous copies of it on her printer and posting it off to many unsuspecting victims, giving the term “vanity printing” a whole new meaning. A woman who has been waiting for “the call” for nearly eight months after having sent in a requested revised version of her story (the operative word here being “requested”). A woman who is anxious to make a good impression on “her editor” but who currently has the voice of a longshoreman after a long night of drinking tequila out of a boot while standing on a dock in the pouring rain--while chain smoking.
Now, ordinarily, I don’t do any of those things. In fact, I have never done any of those things. It’s just that this awful sinus infection made me sound like, well, like I said. The funny thing is, just a few days previous, I was chatting with my good friend Shirley Marks (who has received four of these wonderful phone calls from Avalon Books) about how anxious I was getting and how I would really love to know if and when I was ever going to have my book published. That’s when she said “Don’t worry, ‘the call’ will come when you least suspect it”.
Now, I really couldn’t see how that could possibly be true. I had been expecting this call for a long time. I thought about it pretty much constantly—there was no way I was going to stop thinking about it, hoping for it, for even a split second. But, sure enough, when I picked up the phone that morning and croaked, “Hel . . lll . . .ooOOoooww?” the editor at Avalon was the furthest thought from my mind. So, when she said, “Hello, this is Faith Black of Avalon Books,” I was so embarrassed that her first impression of moi had to have been that I was a chain-smoking late night boozer that I blurted out, “I’m sick! That’s why I sound like this!”
These were sad days indeed, but they were very much brightened by the news that I had sold my book. (Except for that awful 24 hours--even the achievement of a 30-some-odd-year desire wasn’t enough to banish my gloom.) The newsworthy point of this story, the part that someone other than myself might find interesting (though, there is a lot of wishful thinking in that statement, I must admit) was my state of total goofiness when the call finally came.
Imagine, if you will, a woman whose goal to have a published novel has been beating solidly in her heart since she was seven years old. A woman who knows that this is really the one and only chance for this particular “baby” of hers to come to light without producing numerous copies of it on her printer and posting it off to many unsuspecting victims, giving the term “vanity printing” a whole new meaning. A woman who has been waiting for “the call” for nearly eight months after having sent in a requested revised version of her story (the operative word here being “requested”). A woman who is anxious to make a good impression on “her editor” but who currently has the voice of a longshoreman after a long night of drinking tequila out of a boot while standing on a dock in the pouring rain--while chain smoking.
Now, ordinarily, I don’t do any of those things. In fact, I have never done any of those things. It’s just that this awful sinus infection made me sound like, well, like I said. The funny thing is, just a few days previous, I was chatting with my good friend Shirley Marks (who has received four of these wonderful phone calls from Avalon Books) about how anxious I was getting and how I would really love to know if and when I was ever going to have my book published. That’s when she said “Don’t worry, ‘the call’ will come when you least suspect it”.
Now, I really couldn’t see how that could possibly be true. I had been expecting this call for a long time. I thought about it pretty much constantly—there was no way I was going to stop thinking about it, hoping for it, for even a split second. But, sure enough, when I picked up the phone that morning and croaked, “Hel . . lll . . .ooOOoooww?” the editor at Avalon was the furthest thought from my mind. So, when she said, “Hello, this is Faith Black of Avalon Books,” I was so embarrassed that her first impression of moi had to have been that I was a chain-smoking late night boozer that I blurted out, “I’m sick! That’s why I sound like this!”
Oh, smooth! Here I am talking to an editor, something I have dreamed about doing my entire life, and that’s what I say!?!? So much for coming across as an intelligent, witty, educated person whose books you would wish to buy and publish into perpetuity. The rest of the conversation didn’t go much better and by the time I hung up I was sure she was regretting her decision to put me on the payroll. But, I am happy to say, it was too late for her to make that move and my book will be coming out December 24th, 2008. In spite of me.
Regency romance--it is a book genre that has all but disappeared from the store shelves, whether brick and mortar or the virtual kind. These days, one can only find newly published regencies under the guise of historical romance. Most of my favorite contemporary regency authors (Georgette Heyer being pre-contemporary) such as Barbara Metzger, Joan Smith, Marion Devon, Susan Carroll, Marion Chesney, Carla Kelly, Elizabeth Mansfield and did I mention Barbara Metzger?, have either stopped writing or have moved over to the only "regency" choice available--the thick romance novel that is not so pure. True, they take place during the Regency time period--that twenty or so years near the beginning of the 1800's when Prinny, later King George the IV, ruled England in place of his father, Mad King George the III--and they have some of the same qualities that are so beloved by regency fans, but they just aren't the same. For one thing, the true regency fan tends to be more educated than your average romance reader, she knows her subject (all things Regency) and is more likely than not to be a fan of Jane Austen. Those who read regency-set historicals consists of a much larger audience who enjoy romances set in the past--but don't necessarily know the role Beau Brummel played in the fashion trends of Regency England, don't know the meaning of words such as "ton" (the elite of the elite in society) or "dot" (a young woman's dowery) and would most likely interpret the word "beaver" to mean a water loving animal rather than a hat. Historical figures such as Prinny, Caro Lamb, Lord Nelson, Lord Byron and other famous personages of the day need no introduction or explanation for the true Regency fan. The same goes for the habits, trends, fashions, language, ways of speech and pasttimes of the era. Sadly, as much for the author, I suspect, as well as the reader, so much of this must be left out of the regency-set historical which, to me, is much like leaving the chocolate sauce off of a dish of vanilla ice cream--cool and sweet but just a bit too bland. My novel, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind, due out in December, is as close to a true Regency Romance as I could get it while keeping in mind the broader audience. It is a clean story that focuses on the romance. It also contains as much regency language, speech, and culture as my editor would allow. Alas, no beavers . . .
I have just added a fun ticker for when my book, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind, comes out on December 24th of this year. It is being published by Avalon Books and will be available for pre-order from the online Amazon and Barnes and Noble bookstores starting, I believe, in November, perhaps late October. I will be adding links when they become available. MDSHM is a fast moving, fun romantic comedy set in the Pride and Prejudice/Napoleonic Wars time period. It is Jane Austen meets P.G. Wodehouse meets George Burns and Gracie Allen. I wrote this about fourteen years ago when I was expecting my daughter, our second child, when my then four year old was off at Grandma's house. I have been completely unable to write much since then with all the busyness a young family entails, but once our youngest starts first grade in the fall, I hope to be able to start work on a new novel. Being published is a goal I have been working towards since I was 7 years old (that was, er, a long time ago, now) and it is very exciting to be able to cross that one off the list! I took years of typing classes in junior high and high school with my writing goal in mind, and boy, am I glad! Who knew that keyboarding would be such an important skill?
Contributors
- Heidi
- Wife, mother, novelist, gardener, bloggist, lover of good books, roses and vintage charm; passionate about her family, words, roses, vintage home decor, found treasures and the color pink.
Books of Which Even Jane Would Approve
Start Reading for FREE With One Click!
Part of the Power of the Matchmaker series
Read an excerpt with one click!
A Midwinter Ball
Pin it!
O'er the River Liffey
Add it to your Goodreads Shelf
Every Hope
a Triple Treat Romance
Which Jane Austen Heroine Are You?
The Scandal in Honor
Book Two in The Lord Trevelin Mysteries
The Devil in Beauty
The Lord Trevelin Mysteries
A RONE Award Finalist
Miss Armistead Makes Her Choice
Read An Excerpt With One Click!
Crowned Heart Recipient
A RONE Award Finalist!
The Lord Who Sneered and Other Tales
Like me on Facebook!
Read an Excerpt NOW with one click!
A Miss Delacourt Adventure
My Novel
Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (Book 1)
The Sequel
Miss Delacourt Has Her Day (Book 2)
Start Reading Now with One Click!
A Miss Delacourt Adventure #3
It Happened Twelfth Night
my anthology novella
The Large Print Version
My heroine-Ginny Delacourt
by Audrey Eclectic
Subscribe To Dunhaven Place
Posts
All Comments