The Sword of Senack Release

Over five years ago, I met a crazy girl at Sam’s Club. I never expected a lifelong friendship to be forged while waiting in line for a pretzel.

We shared more than our love of carbs. We were both closeted writers and soon, we began sharing our “attempts” at fiction. Let me just say, it wasn’t pretty. In fact, let me share an excerpt of Elisa’s first draft:

Did you hear that? Funny how loud a hundred pound woman sounds falling off her chair. Hahaha. No worries, E. It’s safe—for now.

Elisa’s second child, the boy she always wanted, died from birth defects at only three months. Recently she published her journal as a way of helping others manage their grief, called The Golden Sky. In it, she shows us what it’s like to lose a child—lose everything—and yet, come back stronger and more determined.

This determination was the driving force behind The Sword of Senack. She had her oldest child with a patchwork of memories of her little brother and subsequent children with only photos and endless questions. In an effort to settle her children’s curiosities and to help them cope, she filled their minds not of death and loss, but with wonder, magic, and love.

Each night Elisa would tell the story of young Jack and his quest. It grew more grand and elaborate as her children begged for more witches, pirates, mermaids, and magic. Not only did they love the story, but it also brought them closer to their lost brother—Zeke.

Sometimes writers are inspired by a question, a memory, a dream. Elisa’s story came from the best inspiration of all: the love of a child lost and the hope of the children remaining.

The Sword of Senack is introduced at a low price of $.99. And look at this cover! Fantastic. 

Click to Amazon

If you want more information about the author, please visit her blog at ecwrites.blogspot.com there you will find links to her publisher’s site and her web page. 

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Description from Amazon of The Sword of Senack: 

Aliya Fisher knows nothing about her true heritage until a vindictive sorceress kidnaps her brother and sister. The young adventurer must take up her birthright, battle strange creatures, and find the Sword of Senack if she hopes to best the witch. But even if Aliya finds the famed weapon and survives the perilous oceanic journey, the enchantress is far more than she appears. How does one defeat an immortal who lusts for revenge? 

Have You Seen My Mojo?

My critique group is falling apart. In 2010, we were rolling along full steam, writing, editing, learning, growing. Some were strictly online/email members, but there are three of us who remain tight and chat frequently. They are my best friends—kindred spirits. For the most part, I think we complement each other well. We all have our strengths; what one misses, the others usually sweeps up.

So what’s the major malfunction you ask? There are a few things that have came along and mucked up everything. One member, Elisa, has devoted the entire year to blogging. She has the craziest things happen to her, like an older woman calling her clothing business requesting, AHEM, a penis pump. She’s having a ball writing about her life, but she’s not critiquing or writing anything else—no time. (Check her out at The Crazy Life Of A Writing Mom, she has some great stories to share.)

My friend Angela is also blogging and building her platform. She has really grabbed blogging by the who-haws and learned all the ins and outs—twitter, hootsuite, and all that stuff. That’s great for her blog, but it zapped her time and energy to finish her zombie western. She has an agent shopping her YA contemporary to publishers, so I understand the need to blog and create an online presence. (Whimsy, Writing, and Reading—her blog is great too)

Then there’s me. I’d like to say that I’ve been so busy with book tours and promoting my best seller there’s just no time for the little people anymore, but not a chance. After twenty years with the same company, my husband is out of a job and I’m trying desperately to claw my way back into the workforce before we run out of money. My degree has collected ten years worth of dust while I’ve raised my kids. It isn’t going to be easy to jump back in—will an employer want to hire me after so long? My mind is cluttered with sadness, anxiety, and no voices. For the first time in years, I have no voices in my head.

I’m a former social worker who used to work with severely emotionally disturbed children. One of the things I developed in those kids was coping skills—healthy coping skills. So, here I am dealing with one of the most stressful times of my life and my one comfort—my coping skill—is silent. I miss the chatter in my head, the dreams at night, and the wandering images of my characters as I drive my daughter to school.

My problem has also put a damper on the others in my group. Our steamy romance writer, Krissee, had an agent request the sequel to her first novel. She asked us to tighten it up for her (she just finished it) but my mind was so cloudy, I couldn’t do it. She had her stuff in an agent’s hands and I let her down. Not fun.

Then there’s Wyatt—our newest member. He is totally getting the shaft. He’s a fantastic writer who doesn’t really need too much help, maybe just an extra pair of eyes to catch those darn repeaters, but he must be thinking what the heck was I thinking joining this group?

I feel bad slacking on my commitments, but can’t find my mojo. I miss the days when I marked the heck out of their work and sent it off excited for the day when I’d get a polished copy, tighter dialogue, and fantastic narrative. I loved seeing the progress, the talent. And to think that I had a small part of that is fantastic. I want that back. Even writing this blog, I see sentences I hate, that need work, but don't have the drive to fix them.

Have you ever lost your voices? Lost your mojo? If so, tell me how to get it back?

Caution: May Contain Nuts

I used to feel envious of those who followed their passion. That is, until I finally accepted mine and realized loving something—wanting it—carried another set of burdens.

I never knew what I was getting myself into when I jumped into my writing aspirations full steam. There were no warning labels listing toxic ingredients or harmful side effects. I had to find it out all on my own through trial and error, a few Jack and Cokes, and a tear or two. But I’m not going to leave you dangling like a participle, I’ll share the wealth.  

 Here’s my list of warnings.

1)   Once you release the voices in your head, you will never have a private conversation again. The voices will always there, lurking and eavesdropping on everything you do or say. They want to be heard and will stop at nothing to make that happen. They will summon the heir of Slytherin, call on the Gods, whatever they must to do find their way to paper. I wouldn’t tell my husband this, but half the time he is talking to me, my characters are shouting over him.

2)   Your little feelers are going to be hurt. Don’t bother developing a thick skin, but don armor or a wet suit—something that is impenetrable or so slick the negative slides right off. Don’t get caught up in what’s great about your writing, figure out what stinks and try to fix it. Search out ways to improve yourself, not fluff the ego. If you like fluff, you’ll wind up with lackluster beta readers who respond with a simple “I like it” instead of critical hard-nosed readers. Rewriting and editing is where the real writing begins. If you want to be good, you have to pay the price with some crappy writing. If you’re reading this thinking, My stuff is good. Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout? Let it simmer for a few months while you write another novel and read books on writing.

  

3)  You won’t read a book the same again.

One of the things I miss, pre-writing days, is reading indiscriminately. It's harder to just read for the pleasure of it. Your write-brain will see a typo or a weird sentence and file it away. You’ll continue in the book finding more mistakes, loopholes in the plot, unlikable characters, or whatever else and wonder how in the heck the author became published while you’re filling up a binder with rejections. I know some writers who don’t see the faults as they read, but I don’t understand how. I’m editing my own stuff and a handful of others all the time. My mind is in constant edit mode.

4)  Your spouse/family will resent the computer.

My husband knows I work hard, but sometimes the hard work I’m doing takes away from the family. I am a stay at home mom, so I can’t lock myself in an office and write for a certain amount of hours a day. I find the time when I can. Twenty minutes here or there. Whatever I can while still managing the household. Your thick armor will help as you battle through this section. Now, my husband’s snarky comments slide right past me. He can’t even throw me off with an eye roll anymore. I’m like a ninja—a couch ninja with a laptop of fury.

*My husband is one of my biggest supporters, but sometimes my writing gets in the way. It’s my fault, not his.

5)  You need to start a blog.

This one killed me. I’m a reluctant blogger. I’m doing it because I want to hobnob with other writers, learn, grow. But writing a blog is a bit like a raid on my panty drawer and I don’t like y’all peeking at my unmentionables.

Since I’ve been blogging, I’ve learned to get passed my privacy issues (a bit) and learned to actually like blogging (a bit). I still don’t get the twitter stuff #ff, @,or the followers who say they are following and then immediately delete you. Whatevs to them. Seriously? 

6)   Can’t go it alone. It takes a village.

I wouldn’t be where I am without my critique group. They keep me in check while respecting my voice and creativity. If you can find a good group do it. My group is probably different than most. Half is comprised of beta readers who write and don’t like to share their work until they are finished. The other half emails chapters as they go. Find a group that works for you, establish goals, and get rollin'. It helps.

I could probably go on, but I don’t want to make this blog too long; so what are on your writer’s warning label? Gas? Irritable bowel syndrome? A twitchy e-y-e? What advice would you offer to a wannabe writer hungry for a publishing contract?