I once saw this commercial that showed an alligator meandering across the floor of an enormous and beautiful white room (furniture, curtains and all), and this lady was sitting on a divan with a bottle of lotion in her hand, and she was admiring her silky smooth skin. I didn’t write down what lotion she was hawking. I already had four bottles under my bathroom sink that hadn’t done any good whatsoever, so I didn’t care, plus I didn’t trust her. I figured she was getting paid so how can you count on her actions anyway. I did notice that the alligator didn’t eat her, which made it a pretty weird commercial if you ask me.
I’m thinking about this commercial because I’m reading the latest review on Amazon.com for my novel Cold Rock River, and all I can say is I will never buy that bottle of lotion even if I could find out which one it was that girl in the commercial on the white divan was using. I don’t want silky, smooth skin. I want skin like that alligator. I want skin that is incapable of any arrows penetrating the surface. I want skin that is impervious to any and all injury. I’m an author and I need skin thicker than cement. Skin like that should absolutely come with publication. You sign your contract and poof! your skin instantly turns to concrete. Done deal.
Unfortunately, it’s not that easy and the reviews that eventually pile up (especially on Amazon.com) can be injurious to one’s mental health. In my own case I was sailing along quite nicely, wracking up some pretty nifty five-star reviews and getting a bit overly confident (never get overly confident), and thinking that maybe I’d written a couple of books well worth reading.
That’s when you need to watch out. Smacko! Right in the kisser! It will get you: An uglier than ugly review that says your book is not worth buying. This is what one reader wrote about mine: After reading Dorothy Allison, Fannie Flagg, Alice Walker, Connie May Fowler, Rebecca Wells (which all deserve to be read, unlike this novel), this was a very contrived and poor attempt to do what these writers have already done.
Outch!! Didn’t their mother ever tell them if they have nothing nice to say not to say anything at all? Or at least to be gentle with whatever it is they are trying to say. Couldn’t this author have simply said she did not like the novel and found it lacking in what other southern writers have managed to do. Which might have caused some readers to order the book just to find out what it was that I didn’t do. One never knows. Which got me to thinking. Maybe her one-star ugly review is not all bad. Maybe it stands out among all the five-star reviews as a sour apple. That’s it. That’s what I tell myself. Look at all those other fabulous five-star reviews on Amazon and what they have to say. I start reading through the list of the titles just to be sure: Fantastic! Another winner! Breathtaking and mesmeric! Wonderful & riveting. An engrossing novel. Simply outstanding. An amazing book. I keep going. I find the ultimate title posted: I couldn’t put it down! I’m tap-dancing on the clouds. Forget the person who gave me one star and said I wasn’t worth reading. What do they know? Exactly.
That’s when I spot it—another review. It’s there among all the others. It says. Cumbersome and ultimately predictable. Ugh!! Those ugly words head straight to my heart. But, then I remember a favorite adage my mother used to quote about fooling people. I’m thinking that adage covers pleasing people, too. You can please some of the people all the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time.
If I’m going to keep writing I best remember that. But in case I forget, the next time I see that alligator commercial I’m going to call the station and see what kind of lotion they’re using on him. I might need some. His skin looks pretty thick.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
BUYER BEWARE
I’ve noticed lately I’m getting more and more wrinkles. If this keeps up my face will look like a roadmap. I saw this ad on TV that said I could turn back time—just by buying their product. I bought three jars. They lied. The only thing that got turned back was the check I wrote to pay for their products. It didn’t quite clear my bank. I called them up (the product people, not the bank) and told them it would be alright. I was going to ask for a refund anyway. They weren’t amused.
I think that any and all products being advertised should do exactly what they say they’ll do or the people advertising them should immediately suffer serious and permanent consequences, like getting a case of incurable dandruff, or developing uncontrolled facial ticks. Take the skin care folks—at the very least they should be hit with a terminal case of zits.
The problem is, before long thousands of people would be running around with dandruff and pimples and facial ticks. I say this because it seems everyone selling something lately exaggerates and gets away with it. I went to this laser clinic for hair removal. They promised after six treatments I’d never shave my legs again. They also said it was a virtually painless procedure. Always listen up when someone uses the word “virtually”. It means the same thing as when a doctor says there might be some discomfort.
The only thing the laser clinic didn’t lie about was the price. It would be three mortgage payments, payable in advance. You’d think I would have learned my lesson after that fiasco, but oh no, I’m still out there reading and believing all the hype slick advertisers hand out. Just last month, I read an article in the newspaper—well, it looked like an article, but was actually an ad for weight loss camouflaged to look like an article written by some prominent doctor I’ve never heard of. Anyway, their product guaranteed that you would lose seven pounds in your sleep the first week alone. I bought some of that, too. And I did lose seven pounds, just like they said. Mostly because I lived with my head stuck in the toilet for eight days straight. The product made me sicker than my cat when she swallowed a year’s supply of fur balls in one setting.
And that’s just one of the weight loss products on the market. There are approximately three millions others that claim you can achieve the same results. In addition to weight loss, skin care, and hair removal, there are scads of other companies promising to remove cellulite, firm your under arms and whiten your teeth, not to mention give you fingernails stronger than nails, erase under-eye circles and stop you from ever passing gas. Right, like I believe that. But, you name it, and there’s a product out there promising to fix it. And that’s just products. What about all the procedures being touted as a total cure-all for what ails one. There’s liposuction, micro-dermabrasion, Botox, silicone and collagen. The list goes on. Basically, the entire human body can be re-done so that your own mother wouldn’t recognize you. Now, why would I want that? It’s taken me all these years to get her to notice me in the first place. But that’s another story. Right now I think I’ll just stop believing in all the hype I read about or see on television and be content that I’m getting older (and hopefully wiser), and I have the looks to prove it. In the meantime, be careful what you believe in. There are a lot of advertisers out there with a lot of hype and mostly they can say what they want and charge what they will. Buyer beware!
I think that any and all products being advertised should do exactly what they say they’ll do or the people advertising them should immediately suffer serious and permanent consequences, like getting a case of incurable dandruff, or developing uncontrolled facial ticks. Take the skin care folks—at the very least they should be hit with a terminal case of zits.
The problem is, before long thousands of people would be running around with dandruff and pimples and facial ticks. I say this because it seems everyone selling something lately exaggerates and gets away with it. I went to this laser clinic for hair removal. They promised after six treatments I’d never shave my legs again. They also said it was a virtually painless procedure. Always listen up when someone uses the word “virtually”. It means the same thing as when a doctor says there might be some discomfort.
The only thing the laser clinic didn’t lie about was the price. It would be three mortgage payments, payable in advance. You’d think I would have learned my lesson after that fiasco, but oh no, I’m still out there reading and believing all the hype slick advertisers hand out. Just last month, I read an article in the newspaper—well, it looked like an article, but was actually an ad for weight loss camouflaged to look like an article written by some prominent doctor I’ve never heard of. Anyway, their product guaranteed that you would lose seven pounds in your sleep the first week alone. I bought some of that, too. And I did lose seven pounds, just like they said. Mostly because I lived with my head stuck in the toilet for eight days straight. The product made me sicker than my cat when she swallowed a year’s supply of fur balls in one setting.
And that’s just one of the weight loss products on the market. There are approximately three millions others that claim you can achieve the same results. In addition to weight loss, skin care, and hair removal, there are scads of other companies promising to remove cellulite, firm your under arms and whiten your teeth, not to mention give you fingernails stronger than nails, erase under-eye circles and stop you from ever passing gas. Right, like I believe that. But, you name it, and there’s a product out there promising to fix it. And that’s just products. What about all the procedures being touted as a total cure-all for what ails one. There’s liposuction, micro-dermabrasion, Botox, silicone and collagen. The list goes on. Basically, the entire human body can be re-done so that your own mother wouldn’t recognize you. Now, why would I want that? It’s taken me all these years to get her to notice me in the first place. But that’s another story. Right now I think I’ll just stop believing in all the hype I read about or see on television and be content that I’m getting older (and hopefully wiser), and I have the looks to prove it. In the meantime, be careful what you believe in. There are a lot of advertisers out there with a lot of hype and mostly they can say what they want and charge what they will. Buyer beware!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
THIS WRITERS LIFE
I'm often asked about my process as a writer. Oh, boy—that’s a hard question to answer. I’m sort of an organic writer in that I first hear my protagonist’s voice in my head and it’s always very loud so I listen closely to it. My family thinks I’m totally crazy because I’m hearing voices and they don’t pay me any attention other than to inquire now and then if I am seeking therapy. I pay them no attention, either. I keep listening to my voices.
When my protagonist first speaks, I listen carefully to what she is saying and try to determine where she’s at in her life. From there I hit the keyboard and keep going until I come to a complete stop and then I usually say, “Oh, shi—now what? That’s when I start a sort of outline. By sort of, I mean I think of events that would naturally occur in this particular protagonist’s life and then try to think of ways to expound upon them that will have relevance to the story arc, which I have yet to determine, but am working on. Basically, I’m a total mess and get depressed and walk around the house in circles until I come up with something. Then I sit back down to the keyboard and pound out some more words and low and behold some days it’s pretty good, which gets me going and then I keep going until I hit another pothole and then I start walking around in circles again.
Once I get to the halfway mark I start thinking about what the climax to this story should be and why, and then I take a hammer and kill myself if I can’t come up with something really good. If I am still alive in the morning I continue on and write down what the climax should definitely be and head to the resolution. Sometimes it works out pretty good. Then I discard the hammer and open a bottle of wine and sort of celebrate because I’m almost there.
Right now I am NOT almost there. I’m just beginning. I have started a new novel, SUMMER CREEK. In this novel, twelve-year-old Mary Alice Munford struggles with the knowledge that her mother plans to marry her father, a man who abandoned them before she was born. I love the opening:
When I was very little my mother would tell me stories about why my father wasn’t with us. First she said he was away in the war going on in Asia. Vietnam. Then she said he was trying to heal from the wounds in his head that made him forget us. Later she said he was on assignment with the Secret Service. “Hogwash,” Granny Ruth said. “She’s filling your head with garbage.”
Granny never agrees with my mother. She is also convinced she has a bad heart and is busy planning her funeral. Ours is not a happy household. There is me, my mother, Granny Ruth, and Aunt Josie, whose husband, my Uncle Earnest fell under a combine so I never met him. Aunt Josie believes in reincarnation and thinks Uncle Earnest could turn up in any form. “You never know,” she says.
So, mostly my family is crazy. My mother thinks marrying my father, even though he abandoned her when she was pregnant with me and never looked back, is the answer to her prayers; my grandmother thinks she’s dying every other hour, and my Aunt Josie is convinced Uncle Earnest could come back as a frog or some stranger who will bring home a paycheck. I’m right in the middle. You tell me how I am to survive this and be okay.
So now I have the opening and am walking in circles with the hammer close by. Hopefully I will get some ideas before I have to use it.
In the interim I have some good news to celebrate. Sourcebooks has bought my latest project: ALL THAT’S TRUE. They call it “an authentic coming-of-age novel with a terrific takeaway.” It follows Andrea St. James, Andi for short, whose privileged life is interrupted in the summer of 1991 during the first Desert Storm, when she discovers her father is having an affair with her best friend’s sexy new step-mother. With an equal mix of joy and sorrow, it follows Andi’s poignant and sometime laughable journey to young adulthood where she struggles with the elusive nature of truth and the devastating consequences of deception. Look for it in 2010.
In the meantime I’m back at the keyboard. I have an idea on how to continue SUMMER CREEK, so for today I’ve set the hammer aside. This is good news. I have enough dents in my head.
When my protagonist first speaks, I listen carefully to what she is saying and try to determine where she’s at in her life. From there I hit the keyboard and keep going until I come to a complete stop and then I usually say, “Oh, shi—now what? That’s when I start a sort of outline. By sort of, I mean I think of events that would naturally occur in this particular protagonist’s life and then try to think of ways to expound upon them that will have relevance to the story arc, which I have yet to determine, but am working on. Basically, I’m a total mess and get depressed and walk around the house in circles until I come up with something. Then I sit back down to the keyboard and pound out some more words and low and behold some days it’s pretty good, which gets me going and then I keep going until I hit another pothole and then I start walking around in circles again.
Once I get to the halfway mark I start thinking about what the climax to this story should be and why, and then I take a hammer and kill myself if I can’t come up with something really good. If I am still alive in the morning I continue on and write down what the climax should definitely be and head to the resolution. Sometimes it works out pretty good. Then I discard the hammer and open a bottle of wine and sort of celebrate because I’m almost there.
Right now I am NOT almost there. I’m just beginning. I have started a new novel, SUMMER CREEK. In this novel, twelve-year-old Mary Alice Munford struggles with the knowledge that her mother plans to marry her father, a man who abandoned them before she was born. I love the opening:
When I was very little my mother would tell me stories about why my father wasn’t with us. First she said he was away in the war going on in Asia. Vietnam. Then she said he was trying to heal from the wounds in his head that made him forget us. Later she said he was on assignment with the Secret Service. “Hogwash,” Granny Ruth said. “She’s filling your head with garbage.”
Granny never agrees with my mother. She is also convinced she has a bad heart and is busy planning her funeral. Ours is not a happy household. There is me, my mother, Granny Ruth, and Aunt Josie, whose husband, my Uncle Earnest fell under a combine so I never met him. Aunt Josie believes in reincarnation and thinks Uncle Earnest could turn up in any form. “You never know,” she says.
So, mostly my family is crazy. My mother thinks marrying my father, even though he abandoned her when she was pregnant with me and never looked back, is the answer to her prayers; my grandmother thinks she’s dying every other hour, and my Aunt Josie is convinced Uncle Earnest could come back as a frog or some stranger who will bring home a paycheck. I’m right in the middle. You tell me how I am to survive this and be okay.
So now I have the opening and am walking in circles with the hammer close by. Hopefully I will get some ideas before I have to use it.
In the interim I have some good news to celebrate. Sourcebooks has bought my latest project: ALL THAT’S TRUE. They call it “an authentic coming-of-age novel with a terrific takeaway.” It follows Andrea St. James, Andi for short, whose privileged life is interrupted in the summer of 1991 during the first Desert Storm, when she discovers her father is having an affair with her best friend’s sexy new step-mother. With an equal mix of joy and sorrow, it follows Andi’s poignant and sometime laughable journey to young adulthood where she struggles with the elusive nature of truth and the devastating consequences of deception. Look for it in 2010.
In the meantime I’m back at the keyboard. I have an idea on how to continue SUMMER CREEK, so for today I’ve set the hammer aside. This is good news. I have enough dents in my head.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
ADVICE I'VE BEEN GIVEN
I'm often asked what advice would I offer new writers? That's a scary question. I’m not usually handing out advice. I’m in search of it. And the first person I contact on my search is my friend and author Karin Gillespie. She truly has all the answers and is eager to share all that she knows when you ask. She’s an angel and a god-send.
So what do I know about writing and what can I share with writers who are eager to be published? First off, let me tell you five things I’ve been told and then I will share with you five things that I actually do. I’ve been told to:
Write everyday.
This is very good advice. It reminds me of what my mother used to tell me, “If you want to keep riding, better stay on the horse.” Writing everyday keeps your muse in touch with your brain. If you don’t write everyday you will get rusty. You will get lazy. You will have trouble connecting to your muse. Actually, I was told to write everyday. All the other sentences above are ones I filled in on my own, because that is what that sentence Write everyday did to me. It made be very fearful. When the experts said write every day, I figured if I didn’t, I was doomed. I was a goner. I’d never produce anything. So I try to write everyday.
Write what you know.
This too, is good advice. If you write what you know there will be less research you need to do. You can finish your manuscript faster. If you write what you know you will never look stupid; you won’t have to make things up, you can pass on what you know. This particular instruction to write what I know scared the he-be-ge-beze out of me because I really don’t know all that much. I know I just like to write.
Write in a journal.
All good writers I have met at book conferences and book festivals insist that they write in journals. And they insist that they have done so since second grade when they learned cursive. Obviously, writing in a journal is a very valuable experience. The contents can be mined later for all sorts of information to put in your novels. You will not forget tidbits from your past that could be useful when constructing them. Obviously writing in a journal is very important.
Join a critique group.
And the sooner, the better. They will let you know if you are running astray. They will offer valuable information that will tell you if your novel is going in the right direction or not. Critique groups are essential for your literary growth. You will become a stronger, more prolific writer by having a critique group to analyze your work.
Do not edit while you are writing your first draft.
This is very important guidance. It is an important rule and it is a pity that I do not follow it. But then I’ve always had trouble with rules. Aren’t they meant to be broken?
Okay, now for five things that I do:
Consider the first rule: Write every day.
I write every other day. The day in between I read. I read what I’ve written. I read from books that are like mine. I read from books that have a similar voice to mine. I read from books that are different from mine. I just read, read, read, period and see where it takes me. By the next day I am more than eager to write. I am anxious to write. Why not? I’ve been reading, reading, reading.
The second rule: Write what you know.
This is a good rule. I don’t follow it. I write what I love. I figure what I don’t know I will promptly find out. When you write what you know, it’s too easy. The words fall onto the page. What joy is there in that? When you write what you don’t know you spend hours researching. The words spill onto the page like they’ve been drained from your blood.
The third rule: Write in a journal.
I have never kept a journal. I do not want a reminder of all my days. The good ones I remember all on my own. The bad ones I’m hoping to forget. Like the time I almost let my sister drown. Or the day she nearly choked on a jelly bean. These memories are fifty years old. I don’t need a journal to recall them. These and memories like them come visit me all on their own.
Number four: Join a critique group.
This is excellent advice. I believe in critique groups. And I even joined one once. That particular one was too far away to continue, so I quit going. I should have searched for another group and I didn’t. And then I had no trouble getting published, so I figured why bother. Again, do not do what I do, do what the experts say: Join a critique group. You won’t be sorry.
Lastly: Do not edit while you write your first draft:
I do not follow this rule, either. I edit constantly as I am writing, but do not do what I do, do what the experts say. Editing while you write means it will take you forever to finish your novel. It did not take me forever, but then I am weird, so again do not edit while you are writing. It’s a written rule that I have read many times and I believe that it is true. I just can’t follow it. I naturally edit while I’m writing and immediately after I write, especially if I am re-reading what I’ve written. Besides, I have always had trouble with rules. Aren’t they meant to be broken?
One major rule that I believe in and one that I feel should not be broken is to:
Read, read, read—everything you can get your hands on. Read all the genres that are like the genres you are writing in. Read genres that are unlike your own. Read all of the best sellers. This is what the public is buying. Read all of the literature of old that teaches the way the written word should fall upon the page.
My last rule is for you not to take too seriously anything I say. Who knows how far I will get in my writing career? Exactly. So dear writer: beware. And God speed and God bless you on your writing journey.
So what do I know about writing and what can I share with writers who are eager to be published? First off, let me tell you five things I’ve been told and then I will share with you five things that I actually do. I’ve been told to:
Write everyday.
This is very good advice. It reminds me of what my mother used to tell me, “If you want to keep riding, better stay on the horse.” Writing everyday keeps your muse in touch with your brain. If you don’t write everyday you will get rusty. You will get lazy. You will have trouble connecting to your muse. Actually, I was told to write everyday. All the other sentences above are ones I filled in on my own, because that is what that sentence Write everyday did to me. It made be very fearful. When the experts said write every day, I figured if I didn’t, I was doomed. I was a goner. I’d never produce anything. So I try to write everyday.
Write what you know.
This too, is good advice. If you write what you know there will be less research you need to do. You can finish your manuscript faster. If you write what you know you will never look stupid; you won’t have to make things up, you can pass on what you know. This particular instruction to write what I know scared the he-be-ge-beze out of me because I really don’t know all that much. I know I just like to write.
Write in a journal.
All good writers I have met at book conferences and book festivals insist that they write in journals. And they insist that they have done so since second grade when they learned cursive. Obviously, writing in a journal is a very valuable experience. The contents can be mined later for all sorts of information to put in your novels. You will not forget tidbits from your past that could be useful when constructing them. Obviously writing in a journal is very important.
Join a critique group.
And the sooner, the better. They will let you know if you are running astray. They will offer valuable information that will tell you if your novel is going in the right direction or not. Critique groups are essential for your literary growth. You will become a stronger, more prolific writer by having a critique group to analyze your work.
Do not edit while you are writing your first draft.
This is very important guidance. It is an important rule and it is a pity that I do not follow it. But then I’ve always had trouble with rules. Aren’t they meant to be broken?
Okay, now for five things that I do:
Consider the first rule: Write every day.
I write every other day. The day in between I read. I read what I’ve written. I read from books that are like mine. I read from books that have a similar voice to mine. I read from books that are different from mine. I just read, read, read, period and see where it takes me. By the next day I am more than eager to write. I am anxious to write. Why not? I’ve been reading, reading, reading.
The second rule: Write what you know.
This is a good rule. I don’t follow it. I write what I love. I figure what I don’t know I will promptly find out. When you write what you know, it’s too easy. The words fall onto the page. What joy is there in that? When you write what you don’t know you spend hours researching. The words spill onto the page like they’ve been drained from your blood.
The third rule: Write in a journal.
I have never kept a journal. I do not want a reminder of all my days. The good ones I remember all on my own. The bad ones I’m hoping to forget. Like the time I almost let my sister drown. Or the day she nearly choked on a jelly bean. These memories are fifty years old. I don’t need a journal to recall them. These and memories like them come visit me all on their own.
Number four: Join a critique group.
This is excellent advice. I believe in critique groups. And I even joined one once. That particular one was too far away to continue, so I quit going. I should have searched for another group and I didn’t. And then I had no trouble getting published, so I figured why bother. Again, do not do what I do, do what the experts say: Join a critique group. You won’t be sorry.
Lastly: Do not edit while you write your first draft:
I do not follow this rule, either. I edit constantly as I am writing, but do not do what I do, do what the experts say. Editing while you write means it will take you forever to finish your novel. It did not take me forever, but then I am weird, so again do not edit while you are writing. It’s a written rule that I have read many times and I believe that it is true. I just can’t follow it. I naturally edit while I’m writing and immediately after I write, especially if I am re-reading what I’ve written. Besides, I have always had trouble with rules. Aren’t they meant to be broken?
One major rule that I believe in and one that I feel should not be broken is to:
Read, read, read—everything you can get your hands on. Read all the genres that are like the genres you are writing in. Read genres that are unlike your own. Read all of the best sellers. This is what the public is buying. Read all of the literature of old that teaches the way the written word should fall upon the page.
My last rule is for you not to take too seriously anything I say. Who knows how far I will get in my writing career? Exactly. So dear writer: beware. And God speed and God bless you on your writing journey.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
SPRING CLEANING by Jackie Lee Miles
I was doing a little spring cleaning when I realized how crazy I must be. Every cupboard is stock full of things I’m afraid I’ll run out of. Take toilet paper, for instance. Every bathroom in our home, which is two and a half, but when it comes to toilet paper that half-bath counts as a whole, because it’s got to have toilet paper. So anyway, every one of those bathrooms has a roll on the holder and ten rolls in the cabinet underneath the sink. That’s so we won’t ever run out. When any under-the-cabinet-toilet-paper stash gets down to four rolls it’s time to replenish, so then toilet papers goes at the top of my grocery list.
Next we come to Tide, I always prefer that when I do the laundry. There is a large box in the laundry room and two extra boxes stacked in a cabinet in the garage, next to six boxes of Kleenex, two bottles of fabric softener, three boxes of cling free sheets, eight rolls of paper towels, two extra large bottles of Head and Shoulders for my husband, alright I admit it, I use it once in awhile myself. Next to the shampoo are three jars of Pantene Restorative conditioners, which I can’t live without or my hair looks like a broom that has seen better days. Parked next to the conditioners I have neatly placed three large plastic bottles of various hand and body lotions that all promise to keep my skin smoother than silk. When I’m replenishing hand lotion, I can’t ever decide which one I should try next, so I usually select three and go from there.
In the pantry I have several large cans of coffee on the top shelf and enough Cremora to serve every Starbucks customer who desires it for the next two years. I have back-ups on mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, grape jelly, strawberry jam, pancake syrup, spaghetti sauce (I always doctor up the store bought kind and pass it off as homemade.), and scads of soup. Five kinds of Campbell’s for every flavor they make. God forbid I should run out of Cream of Mushroom. I might want to make a tuna noodle casserole and then where would I be?
This predisposition to hoard extras of what I consider to be essentials is probably a sign of a serious mental disorder. And it probably runs in my family. My mother has the same illness. Her pantry puts mine to shame. Mine has enough to stock a mini-market. Hers could easily stock Kroger.
This problem definitely spills over into other areas of my life. If my car even approaches the half-full marker, I am at the gas station pronto. And my office closet is fully stocked with two and three boxes of everything, along with two cases of copy paper. I have eight boxes of large paper clips, two boxes of six dispensers each of scotch tape, three boxes of file folders and four boxes of pens. There is a case of Pendaflex folders and four boxes of various size labels along with a half dozen boxes of various size envelopes. Need I say more?
I probably need to call a psychiatrist immediately and make an appointment. But then all I could tell him is that I have a fear of running out of stuff. How serious can that be? It’s not like I harbor a secret desire to kill my husband or my mother, right?
Lately, I’ve noticed that I have a fear of running out of words. This is a much more serious problem than running out of toilet paper. I’m in the middle of my next book and middles scare the he-be-ge-bee’s out of me anyway. So now where am I? It’s not like I can go to the store and stock up on words. Each night when I go to bed, I do a word count of how many I’ve typed for the day. It always sends a shiver up my spine. Have I filled up my four pages for the day? Are they any good? Will I find enough for the next day? Is there a closet I can store them in while I sleep that I can raid in the morning and get a major head start?
I always wonder how other writers manage to put so many words on the page. Do they have a secret stash somewhere that nobody has told me about? Is their brain riddled with more words than they can possibly put down on any given number of pages in their lifetime? Do they have an endless supply from some part of their brain that automatically manufactures words while they sleep?
Hey guys, let me know. I’m sick of hoarding soup and shampoo and coffee. I’d love to find a way to hoard words. So let’s trade. I’ll gladly give you what’s stashed in my closets. I guarantee that you will never run out of toilet paper.
Jackie Lee Miles is the author of Roseflower Creek, Cold Rock River and Divorcing-Dwayne. Look for her next novel All That’s True in the spring of 2010. Email her at Jackie@jlmiles.com. Visit the website at http://www.jlmiles.com
Next we come to Tide, I always prefer that when I do the laundry. There is a large box in the laundry room and two extra boxes stacked in a cabinet in the garage, next to six boxes of Kleenex, two bottles of fabric softener, three boxes of cling free sheets, eight rolls of paper towels, two extra large bottles of Head and Shoulders for my husband, alright I admit it, I use it once in awhile myself. Next to the shampoo are three jars of Pantene Restorative conditioners, which I can’t live without or my hair looks like a broom that has seen better days. Parked next to the conditioners I have neatly placed three large plastic bottles of various hand and body lotions that all promise to keep my skin smoother than silk. When I’m replenishing hand lotion, I can’t ever decide which one I should try next, so I usually select three and go from there.
In the pantry I have several large cans of coffee on the top shelf and enough Cremora to serve every Starbucks customer who desires it for the next two years. I have back-ups on mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, grape jelly, strawberry jam, pancake syrup, spaghetti sauce (I always doctor up the store bought kind and pass it off as homemade.), and scads of soup. Five kinds of Campbell’s for every flavor they make. God forbid I should run out of Cream of Mushroom. I might want to make a tuna noodle casserole and then where would I be?
This predisposition to hoard extras of what I consider to be essentials is probably a sign of a serious mental disorder. And it probably runs in my family. My mother has the same illness. Her pantry puts mine to shame. Mine has enough to stock a mini-market. Hers could easily stock Kroger.
This problem definitely spills over into other areas of my life. If my car even approaches the half-full marker, I am at the gas station pronto. And my office closet is fully stocked with two and three boxes of everything, along with two cases of copy paper. I have eight boxes of large paper clips, two boxes of six dispensers each of scotch tape, three boxes of file folders and four boxes of pens. There is a case of Pendaflex folders and four boxes of various size labels along with a half dozen boxes of various size envelopes. Need I say more?
I probably need to call a psychiatrist immediately and make an appointment. But then all I could tell him is that I have a fear of running out of stuff. How serious can that be? It’s not like I harbor a secret desire to kill my husband or my mother, right?
Lately, I’ve noticed that I have a fear of running out of words. This is a much more serious problem than running out of toilet paper. I’m in the middle of my next book and middles scare the he-be-ge-bee’s out of me anyway. So now where am I? It’s not like I can go to the store and stock up on words. Each night when I go to bed, I do a word count of how many I’ve typed for the day. It always sends a shiver up my spine. Have I filled up my four pages for the day? Are they any good? Will I find enough for the next day? Is there a closet I can store them in while I sleep that I can raid in the morning and get a major head start?
I always wonder how other writers manage to put so many words on the page. Do they have a secret stash somewhere that nobody has told me about? Is their brain riddled with more words than they can possibly put down on any given number of pages in their lifetime? Do they have an endless supply from some part of their brain that automatically manufactures words while they sleep?
Hey guys, let me know. I’m sick of hoarding soup and shampoo and coffee. I’d love to find a way to hoard words. So let’s trade. I’ll gladly give you what’s stashed in my closets. I guarantee that you will never run out of toilet paper.
Jackie Lee Miles is the author of Roseflower Creek, Cold Rock River and Divorcing-Dwayne. Look for her next novel All That’s True in the spring of 2010. Email her at Jackie@jlmiles.com. Visit the website at http://www.jlmiles.com
Monday, March 2, 2009
PUBLISHING STRATEGIES AND THE PUBLISHING GAME
Sourcebooks bought Cumberland House, my publisher, and everyone, except those that were let go, of course, are very happy and excited. Lots of changes are in the air, some of them pretty amazing. That said there is one change that’s not sitting too well with me. First, let me explain. With Cumberland House I broke the cardinal rule. I wrote under two different genres. If you go to my website jlmiles.com, it says Introducing J. L. Miles— featuring Southern Drama and Southern Sass.
Cumberland didn’t mind that I was splitting my readership and happily allowed me to continue my genre adventures. Sourcebooks doesn’t see it that way.
Sourcebooks likes the drama. They’re not so enamored with the sass. They want the Dwayne Series to go away. Divorcing Dwayne, the first book in the series, debuted April 2008. Dear Dwayne, the second in the series was to release April, 2009, with Dating Dwayne to follow. The series is centered around Francine Harper and her no-good husband Dwayne. In the first book, Francine is under felony assault charges for shooting at Dwayne and his stripper/lover Carla from the Peel ‘n Squeel. In the second book, Francine who is newly divorced, discovers she’s pregnant and is all set to marry the mayor, a Danny Devito type character who is good husband material, even if he does only come up to her navel. In the third book, newly widowed, Francine takes comfort in Dwayne’s arms. Good grief! Well, not good, but lots of grief. There’s a cast of zany characters to aid Francine in her search for true love, including her energetic and eccentric grandmother, Nanny Lou. There’s also her best friend Ray Anne, who upon discovering Francine is seeing Dwayne again, says, “Francine, have you got a boulder in your head, or what?”
Initially, I was told the only thing that would change would be the release date for Dear Dwayne. It was moved ahead to October. But after a major strategy session, it was decided that it was not in my best interest to continue to write down two paths. Now I must put Francine and her cohorts away. But it’s like taking them out in the backyard and shooting them. I’m just not sure how to let them go. They’ve been stumbling around in my head for the last three years. They’ve been cavorting around Pickville Springs, Georgia, where they reside, getting involved in all sorts of adventures on a daily basis for quite some time. They have conversations with me in my sleep. We’re talking “real” people here. Just how do I end their well-developed lives?
Well, to begin with, I’ve buried myself in new projects. I’ve finished The Heavenly Heart, which my agent is shopping. It was inspired from an actual CBS news program where a man received his daughter’s heart. After a fatal accident sixteen-year-old Lorelei Goodroe follows the lives of five people who receive her organs, including that of her father who gets her heat. Lorelei’s untimely demise has left her in turmoil. She finds she is unable to move on without first letting go, and letting go is the last thing on her agenda.
I moved onto to All That’s True and did a final edit. Andrea St. James’s (Andi for short) privileged life is interrupted in the fall of 1991, when she discovers her father is having an affair with her best friend Bridget’s sexy new stepmother. With an equal mix of joy and sorrow, the novel follows Andi’s poignant, yet amusing journey to young adulthood, where she struggles with the elusive nature of truth and the devastating consequences of deception.
Now I’m immersed in Radio Girl, the tale of a southern lass who marries and divorces all the men in her life and discovers they’re basically all the same man. All of this should be enough to keep me from grieving the loss of the Dwayne series.
Plus, in my heart I know Sourcebooks is right and on the correct path. They want to promote me as a serious writer. Not to say I’m a totally happy camper, but I’m getting in the swing of it. I’ve said goodbye to Francine and Dwayne and Ray Anne and Nanny Lou: It was nice knowing y’all! And I’ve developed a mantra to see me through: Onward and upward.
Jackie Lee Miles is the author of Divorcing Dwayne, Cold Rock River and Roseflower Creek. Write to her at Jackie@jlmiles.com. Visit the website at jlmiles.com
Cumberland didn’t mind that I was splitting my readership and happily allowed me to continue my genre adventures. Sourcebooks doesn’t see it that way.
Sourcebooks likes the drama. They’re not so enamored with the sass. They want the Dwayne Series to go away. Divorcing Dwayne, the first book in the series, debuted April 2008. Dear Dwayne, the second in the series was to release April, 2009, with Dating Dwayne to follow. The series is centered around Francine Harper and her no-good husband Dwayne. In the first book, Francine is under felony assault charges for shooting at Dwayne and his stripper/lover Carla from the Peel ‘n Squeel. In the second book, Francine who is newly divorced, discovers she’s pregnant and is all set to marry the mayor, a Danny Devito type character who is good husband material, even if he does only come up to her navel. In the third book, newly widowed, Francine takes comfort in Dwayne’s arms. Good grief! Well, not good, but lots of grief. There’s a cast of zany characters to aid Francine in her search for true love, including her energetic and eccentric grandmother, Nanny Lou. There’s also her best friend Ray Anne, who upon discovering Francine is seeing Dwayne again, says, “Francine, have you got a boulder in your head, or what?”
Initially, I was told the only thing that would change would be the release date for Dear Dwayne. It was moved ahead to October. But after a major strategy session, it was decided that it was not in my best interest to continue to write down two paths. Now I must put Francine and her cohorts away. But it’s like taking them out in the backyard and shooting them. I’m just not sure how to let them go. They’ve been stumbling around in my head for the last three years. They’ve been cavorting around Pickville Springs, Georgia, where they reside, getting involved in all sorts of adventures on a daily basis for quite some time. They have conversations with me in my sleep. We’re talking “real” people here. Just how do I end their well-developed lives?
Well, to begin with, I’ve buried myself in new projects. I’ve finished The Heavenly Heart, which my agent is shopping. It was inspired from an actual CBS news program where a man received his daughter’s heart. After a fatal accident sixteen-year-old Lorelei Goodroe follows the lives of five people who receive her organs, including that of her father who gets her heat. Lorelei’s untimely demise has left her in turmoil. She finds she is unable to move on without first letting go, and letting go is the last thing on her agenda.
I moved onto to All That’s True and did a final edit. Andrea St. James’s (Andi for short) privileged life is interrupted in the fall of 1991, when she discovers her father is having an affair with her best friend Bridget’s sexy new stepmother. With an equal mix of joy and sorrow, the novel follows Andi’s poignant, yet amusing journey to young adulthood, where she struggles with the elusive nature of truth and the devastating consequences of deception.
Now I’m immersed in Radio Girl, the tale of a southern lass who marries and divorces all the men in her life and discovers they’re basically all the same man. All of this should be enough to keep me from grieving the loss of the Dwayne series.
Plus, in my heart I know Sourcebooks is right and on the correct path. They want to promote me as a serious writer. Not to say I’m a totally happy camper, but I’m getting in the swing of it. I’ve said goodbye to Francine and Dwayne and Ray Anne and Nanny Lou: It was nice knowing y’all! And I’ve developed a mantra to see me through: Onward and upward.
Jackie Lee Miles is the author of Divorcing Dwayne, Cold Rock River and Roseflower Creek. Write to her at Jackie@jlmiles.com. Visit the website at jlmiles.com
Sourcebooks bought Cumberland House, my publisher, and everyone, except those that were let go, of course, are very happy and excited. Lots of changes are in the air, some of them pretty amazing. That said there is one change that’s not sitting too well with me. First, let me explain. With Cumberland House I broke the cardinal rule. I wrote under two different genres. If you go to my website jlmiles.com, it says Introducing J. L. Miles— featuring Southern Drama and Southern Sass.
Cumberland didn’t mind that I was splitting my readership and happily allowed me to continue my genre adventures. Sourcebooks doesn’t see it that way.
Sourcebooks likes the drama. They’re not so enamored with the sass. They want the Dwayne Series to go away. Divorcing Dwayne, the first book in the series, debuted April 2008. Dear Dwayne, the second in the series was to release April, 2009, with Dating Dwayne to follow. The series is centered around Francine Harper and her no-good husband Dwayne. In the first book, Francine is under felony assault charges for shooting at Dwayne and his stripper/lover Carla from the Peel ‘n Squeel. In the second book, Francine who is newly divorced, discovers she’s pregnant and is all set to marry the mayor, a Danny Devito type character who is good husband material, even if he does only come up to her navel. In the third book, newly widowed, Francine takes comfort in Dwayne’s arms. Good grief! Well, not good, but lots of grief. There’s a cast of zany characters to aid Francine in her search for true love, including her energetic and eccentric grandmother, Nanny Lou. There’s also her best friend Ray Anne, who upon discovering Francine is seeing Dwayne again, says, “Francine, have you got a boulder in your head, or what?”
Initially, I was told the only thing that would change would be the release date for Dear Dwayne. It was moved ahead to October. But after a major strategy session, it was decided that it was not in my best interest to continue to write down two paths. Now I must put Francine and her cohorts away. But it’s like taking them out in the backyard and shooting them. I’m just not sure how to let them go. They’ve been stumbling around in my head for the last three years. They’ve been cavorting around Pickville Springs, Georgia, where they reside, getting involved in all sorts of adventures on a daily basis for quite some time. They have conversations with me in my sleep. We’re talking “real” people here. Just how do I end their well-developed lives?
Well, to begin with, I’ve buried myself in new projects. I’ve finished The Heavenly Heart, which my agent is shopping. It was inspired from an actual CBS news program where a man received his daughter’s heart. After a fatal accident sixteen-year-old Lorelei Goodroe follows the lives of five people who receive her organs, including that of her father who gets her heat. Lorelei’s untimely demise has left her in turmoil. She finds she is unable to move on without first letting go, and letting go is the last thing on her agenda.
I moved onto to All That’s True and did a final edit. Andrea St. James’s (Andi for short) privileged life is interrupted in the fall of 1991, when she discovers her father is having an affair with her best friend Bridget’s sexy new stepmother. With an equal mix of joy and sorrow, the novel follows Andi’s poignant, yet amusing journey to young adulthood, where she struggles with the elusive nature of truth and the devastating consequences of deception.
Now I’m immersed in Radio Girl, the tale of a southern lass who marries and divorces all the men in her life and discovers they’re basically all the same man. All of this should be enough to keep me from grieving the loss of the Dwayne series.
Plus, in my heart I know Sourcebooks is right and on the correct path. They want to promote me as a serious writer. Not to say I’m a totally happy camper, but I’m getting in the swing of it. I’ve said goodbye to Francine and Dwayne and Ray Anne and Nanny Lou: It was nice knowing y’all! And I’ve developed a mantra to see me through: Onward and upward.
Jackie Lee Miles is the author of Divorcing Dwayne, Cold Rock River and Roseflower Creek. Write to her at Jackie@jlmiles.com. Visit the website at jlmiles.com
Cumberland didn’t mind that I was splitting my readership and happily allowed me to continue my genre adventures. Sourcebooks doesn’t see it that way.
Sourcebooks likes the drama. They’re not so enamored with the sass. They want the Dwayne Series to go away. Divorcing Dwayne, the first book in the series, debuted April 2008. Dear Dwayne, the second in the series was to release April, 2009, with Dating Dwayne to follow. The series is centered around Francine Harper and her no-good husband Dwayne. In the first book, Francine is under felony assault charges for shooting at Dwayne and his stripper/lover Carla from the Peel ‘n Squeel. In the second book, Francine who is newly divorced, discovers she’s pregnant and is all set to marry the mayor, a Danny Devito type character who is good husband material, even if he does only come up to her navel. In the third book, newly widowed, Francine takes comfort in Dwayne’s arms. Good grief! Well, not good, but lots of grief. There’s a cast of zany characters to aid Francine in her search for true love, including her energetic and eccentric grandmother, Nanny Lou. There’s also her best friend Ray Anne, who upon discovering Francine is seeing Dwayne again, says, “Francine, have you got a boulder in your head, or what?”
Initially, I was told the only thing that would change would be the release date for Dear Dwayne. It was moved ahead to October. But after a major strategy session, it was decided that it was not in my best interest to continue to write down two paths. Now I must put Francine and her cohorts away. But it’s like taking them out in the backyard and shooting them. I’m just not sure how to let them go. They’ve been stumbling around in my head for the last three years. They’ve been cavorting around Pickville Springs, Georgia, where they reside, getting involved in all sorts of adventures on a daily basis for quite some time. They have conversations with me in my sleep. We’re talking “real” people here. Just how do I end their well-developed lives?
Well, to begin with, I’ve buried myself in new projects. I’ve finished The Heavenly Heart, which my agent is shopping. It was inspired from an actual CBS news program where a man received his daughter’s heart. After a fatal accident sixteen-year-old Lorelei Goodroe follows the lives of five people who receive her organs, including that of her father who gets her heat. Lorelei’s untimely demise has left her in turmoil. She finds she is unable to move on without first letting go, and letting go is the last thing on her agenda.
I moved onto to All That’s True and did a final edit. Andrea St. James’s (Andi for short) privileged life is interrupted in the fall of 1991, when she discovers her father is having an affair with her best friend Bridget’s sexy new stepmother. With an equal mix of joy and sorrow, the novel follows Andi’s poignant, yet amusing journey to young adulthood, where she struggles with the elusive nature of truth and the devastating consequences of deception.
Now I’m immersed in Radio Girl, the tale of a southern lass who marries and divorces all the men in her life and discovers they’re basically all the same man. All of this should be enough to keep me from grieving the loss of the Dwayne series.
Plus, in my heart I know Sourcebooks is right and on the correct path. They want to promote me as a serious writer. Not to say I’m a totally happy camper, but I’m getting in the swing of it. I’ve said goodbye to Francine and Dwayne and Ray Anne and Nanny Lou: It was nice knowing y’all! And I’ve developed a mantra to see me through: Onward and upward.
Jackie Lee Miles is the author of Divorcing Dwayne, Cold Rock River and Roseflower Creek. Write to her at Jackie@jlmiles.com. Visit the website at jlmiles.com
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