How do we grow as a writer? Or a better question is how do we track that growth?
I’m not talking about sales numbers or something easily trackable. I’m talking more about goals for our inner selves.
My word for 2024 is grow. And I have had a hard time finding things related to that word to motivate me specifically in my writing. Quotes or examples of that word playing out throughout the day. Last year was change and that was no problem. In fact this year could’ve been change, too. And there are so many more quotes related to change, than there is grow.
Yet change is what helps you grow. And when I took this picture, it occurred to me how much I have grown. It’s just difficult to see it.
This past week, I cleaned out a large stack of papers. What would seem like a very easy toss was not. It represented the entire set of printed papers of all the different versions my story went through before it became a published book.
Twelve years worth.
I don’t need them anymore. But when I look at this stack I see where it all began and what it then became.
When I started this writing journey I had no idea what I was doing. I read a lot of books and had story ideas, but how did you actually write one?
I started out by joining a writing group that held workshops every month and online classes. Then I joined a few more and took more classes. I printed out scenes. Had writing friends review. I then worked on sections during these online classes. I entered contests (a lot) and printed out all the feedback. Some was hard to accept, but I’d come back stronger and try again.
I’m not sure what drove me. God, definitely. He never gave up on the story He wanted me to write. I also wanted to follow through with what I started.
To read some of my early early scenes helps me see how far I’ve come. How I wrote scenes over and over again to find the words people would want to read. I also found some gems in side notes that came from those classes (I did save a few of those).
I most likely won’t print out pages like this with future books. Or if I do, I toss as soon as I’m done. I trust myself and what I’m doing more. But I won’t have this huge stack to remind me of all the work and change and growth that went into writing my story.
It’s now time to say goodbye to this stack, but I took a picture to remind me that anything worth doing is a journey. A process. I’m really thankful for all of it. I don’t think I’d change a thing.
Denise’s first novel, When Plans Go Awry, published June 4, 2024 and can be purchased on Amazon, both in print and digital formats. She has a section on her website where she shares about her Focus Words or you can see past articles by Denise here on A Slice of Orange in her archives.
0 0 Read moreIn case you missed the cover reveal for the sequel to Sisters at War #sistersoftheresistance Sisters of the Resistance, check out my TikTok video…
https://www.tiktok.com/embed/v2/7403660448920522027?lang=en-US&referrer=https%3A%2F%2Fjinabacarr.wordpress.com%2F&embedFrom=oembed
2 sisters at war with the Nazis and each other…
The Wartime Paris Sisters 2-book series
I want to mention that everyone’s back in the sequel including that awful Gestapo man… but will Eve and Justine finally get some loving with the men they adore? It’s touch and go… especially for Eve.
Not to mention there’s a surprise for everyone at Maison Bleue when a Nazi general requisitions their home for his headquarters…
And of course, little Ninette is adorable… just love her. But then something happens…
Find out in Sisters of the Resistance!
Amazon Series Link:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CLGLTCMG
PS — Sisters of the Resistance, the sequel to Sisters At War will be published September 29th!! (audio, too). I am so very pleased with the sequel and I hope you’ll enjoy it. Thanks for your patience…. this was a rough one, you guys. A mental meat grinder. Keep you posted!
Wartime Paris Sisters series https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CLGLTCMG
‘2 sisters at war with the Nazis…. and each other.’
=====================
SISTERS OF THE RESISTANCE (sequel to SISTERS AT WAR) and it’s a wham bam finish even I didn’t see coming… thanks to my editor’s fabulous edits and notes. Thank you, Isobel!
Keep you posted…
The Beaufort Sisters are at war with the Nazis… and each other
‘A must read for anyone’
‘Hard hitting and heart breaking’
‘An absolutely gripping, powerful story’
Who are the Beaufort Sisters?
They’re beautiful
They’re smart
They’re dangerous
They’re at war with the Nazis… and each other.
0 0 Read moreA short post this month to tell you about something new and exciting — RAVE, the Reader Author Vegas Event. If you’re active on the 20BooksVegas Facebook group, you probably know all about this.
The annual 20BooksVegas writers conference has a new owner/manager, Joe Solari, and it’s now called Author Nation. This November is the first conference with the Author Nation name, and the first one I’ll be going to! One of the new things Joe and his team are doing is creating a full-day reader event. (I attended this sort of thing in Vegas in 2012 or 2013 when the guy behind Romance Novel Covers did a conference and reader event. It didn’t work as well as he expected. But I’m hopeful Joe can make it work!)
You have to be an author attending Author Nation to get a table, but then you can put your books in the online store for the RAVE event and start getting presales before the conference. Author Nation and the authors attending will be promoting the site. And guess what? I’m excited to say I’ll be there at a table!!
Here is the link to the Author Nation conference, and here is the link you and your readers can check out for going to RAVE. Additionally, here is The Signing Store where the authors will upload their books (I just signed up so I still have to hurry and get that done!) and where readers can pre-purchase them before the conference so they can get them autographed. 🙂 Do books need to be pre-purchased? No, but if the author doesn’t bring any books or sells out of their table stock…well, readers will have to take the time to purchase them elsewhere and miss out on getting them autographed.
I think that’s everything I know at this point. I’m sure I’ll learn more before my post next month so I’ll keep you updated. And if you know more about any of this, please leave a comment! Will you be at Author Nation this year? If so, let me know!
0 1 Read moreA California native, novelist Tracy Reed pushes the boundaries of her Christian foundation with her sometimes racy and often fiery tales.
After years of living in the Big Apple, this self proclaimed New Yorker draws from the city’s imagination, intrigue, and inspiration to cultivate characters and plot lines who breathe life to the words on every page.
Tracy’s passion for beautiful fashion and beautiful men direct her vivid creative power towards not only novels, but short stories, poetry, and podcasts. With something for every attention span.
Tracy Reed’s ability to capture an audience is unmatched. Her body of work has been described as a host of stimulating adventures and invigorating expression.
In the shade of a red maple, Ana helped spread the tablecloth over the picnic table and stepped back to let her family lay out the food: tuna salad, pasta salad, chips, grapes, strawberries, brownies, muffins. She and her grown children and her two grandchildren had gathered at the edge of Lake Nockamixon to celebrate her seventieth birthday, on an August afternoon laden with humidity.
Unscrewing a thermos lid, her son Jasper poured sparkling wine into paper cups. Alcohol was banned at the park, but in a nondescript container, who would be the wiser? When everyone but the teens, Luna and Geoffrey, had a cup, Jasper raised his.
“To our mom, on this milestone birthday.” He chugged his drink. “If only Dad could have joined us.”
“Here, here.” There was polite applause.
Ana raised her cup and smiled at the group. There had been some bumps and potholes on the road of life for her family—perhaps the biggest bump, Emery’s death almost a year ago from a heart attack.
Jasper’s eyes glistened as he poured himself another round. Her oldest seemed the most deeply affected by his father’s passing. Kaitlin, his wife, laid a hand on his shoulder in comfort. Ana’s other son, Paul, and her daughter Mindy and partner Sonja lined up for another splash of wine.
What the rest of the family didn’t notice—or failed to sense—was Emery’s presence just beyond the picnic table, a shimmering apparition with waving arms. Emery showed up with regularity, frightening Ana at first when he popped into view a few days after his death. Picking up the shards of the plate that broke when she dropped it in surprise, she wondered what a hallucination of a dead spouse portended for her mental health. But as his sightings continued, she realized he was benign if annoying, much like he’d been in real life.
On this day, Emery signaled to her with his arms. As always, he was silent. Apparitions didn’t make noise anyway, did they? He had been a silent bear of a man, and his children took after him. The group remained quiet around the picnic table, until she sighed, picked up a paper plate, and dug into the spread.
Emery was still waving at her, gesturing at the table—did he want a glass of the wine? How would that work?—but she decided to ignore him, as she too often had done while he was alive.
“Thanks, everyone,” she said. “This is a wonderful get-together. Let’s eat!”
Plates filled, the group moved to the next picnic table over to sit down. Paul and Jasper talked about the Phillies prospects, and Mindy chatted quietly with Sonja.
It was Luna who took the volume up a notch.
“Grams, I made the tuna salad. Don’t you want any?” Luna, at thirteen, could still pout if the mood suited her.
Why had she passed up the salad?
“Your granddad—” Ana started, but knew that explanation wouldn’t do. On her seventieth birthday, she didn’t need to worry her family that she was going crazy.
Jasper broke off his conversation with Paul to look at Ana oddly. “Mom? You okay?”
She nodded. “Of course.” She reached out and gently squeezed Luna’s shoulder. “I just didn’t feel like tuna today. I’m sure it’s scrumptious.”
Smiling, Luna returned to her own plate, scooping up mouthfuls of food. “It is. Mom said so.”
What had Emery been so insistent about? He was now standing behind Jasper, hands on his hips. No more waving or acting agitated. Words from the past bubbled up. I kept trying to tell you.
Kaitlin brought out from a cooler a boxed birthday cake. Luna crowded next to her to plunge the candles into the frosting. Geoffrey, Luna’s older brother, seemed uninterested as only a fifteen-year-old can be at a family gathering.
Paul pulled a lighter from his pocket, but paused, arm extended toward the candles, his face now a pale shade of green. He thrust the lighter at Kaitlin and hurried to the restroom facility across the picnic area. She lit the candles.
Instead of a sweet chorus of the birthday song, one by one, the members of Ana’s family fled to the restroom, their faces wan, holding their stomach.
“What’s going on?” Ana muttered. She watched the candles flicker in the breeze off the lake. “Happy birthday to me,” she sang softly. “Happy birthday to me.” She blew out the flames. Emery moved closer to her and pointed a shimmering hand at the tuna salad.
Oh.
“Food poisoning?” She addressed her husband’s ghost out loud.
He nodded vigorously. Death apparently had given him license to add drama to a situation. Why couldn’t he have been a little more lively before?
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. Just a touch of ptomaine.” She idly began cleaning up the picnic debris, collecting the paper plates, pouring out the bubbly left in glasses. She closed up the food cartons, including the suspect tuna salad. No one had yet returned from the facilities. Should she call 911?
Before she could pull out her phone, Jasper staggered back to the table.
“Taking everyone to the hospital,” he croaked.
“If you must go, I can drive,” Ana said. “I feel fine.”
“No, no,” Jasper said, waving his hand half-heartedly. “It’s your birthday.”
“You are sick. Everyone is sick. This is ridiculous.” She picked up the cooler and bags and carried them to her van. Emery walked beside her, fading in and out. Fourteen months ago, he kept complaining about back pain, an ache that wouldn’t ease up. For a man who said little, that should have been her clue. And now, he’d tried to alert her to another threat, and she’d failed again to understand.
Ana started the van, picked up Jasper and then the rest, who were puddled by the restrooms.
At least she could help salvage the remains of the day.
As she pulled onto the highway, Emery, hovering near her window, smiled.
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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