Nothing like letting a month pass, huh? I’m sorry!

I have news though. Big news! My novella, Ena’s Fire, sold to Liquid Silver Books yesterday. So that’s freaking fantastic, right? I’m so excited. It won’t be out until next year, it’s part of their Hearts Afire fireman series. I met with an editor and several writers from Liquid Silver when I was in San Francisco and I’m just so pleased to be part of that group.

I’ve completed the edits for Keeper and just heard that it’s been sent to the line editor and seems on track for an early October release. WHOO!

And I just finished sending off my requests for my manuscript for Devil You Don’t that I received at nationals. So, life on the writerly front is moving forward.

In other news, Nick and Adrienne started school this week. Nick hasn’t been in almost a year, and is so excited about high school. So far, so good. He’s enthusiastic, even about his homework. I was able to convince the administration that autism doesn’t always equal resource room placement. So he’s taking all regular freshman courses. He does have an aide, and it’s pretty clear already that he needs her. Mostly because he struggles so much with over-stimulation in the courses that are packed solid with 14-year-olds. Adrienne loves her classes and her teachers and is a complete social butterfly. She’s taking college prep classes and an extra math class, so her plate is really full. Both kids will start drama club soon and joined Jazz Band, which is a before-school zero hour class.  Busy, busy.

Okay…you’re updated! Stop by and say hi. I need some love

Out of curiosity, I did a little research today as to the writing habits of a couple of prolific romance authors. Namely Nora Roberts and Christine Feehan.

According to my Google search, both write at least eight hours a day. Every day for Nora.

I read something else about Ms. Roberts that I found incredibly heartening. We share a writing style. No…really. According to her Wikipedia entry, she writes a short first draft of her books and then goes back and fills in the details, fleshing out the book. I can only hope that by the time I have dominated the NY Times Best Seller List, I can get it done in two drafts instead of five. (Hey, it could happen.)

The interview I read with Christine Feehan sort of warmed my heart, too. Seems Ms. Feehan, she of eleven children, writes into the night when it’s quiet. I may only have three kidlings, but the one with autism is equal to a baker’s dozen. Plus a toddler? Yeah, I’m often writing until midnight because it’s the only time no one is demanding my attention.

Anyway–I found it interesting to read about these two women. To feel some sort of kinship to women who do what I long to, and who aren’t all that different from me when it comes down to it. I’m not comparing myself to them, just saying that I can put the effort into my work that they put into theirs, and hope that in the end I become a polished author.

And I don’t feel as weird as I did yesterday about my need to write a super tight first draft. Because if Nora does it, it can’t be bad.

I’ve been working all day on the final re-write of Devil You Don’t. I spoke online to one of the women I’ll be sharing a room with at the conference, and she told me that she’s always asked to send at least a partial to several editors or agents during the conference. I want (need) to be prepared.

Somehow yesterday an idea for another novella popped full-bodied into my head. So I’ve written some on that when I needed a break from editing.

I’ve received my signed copy of my contract for Keeper. I’m considering framing it. Maybe making copies and papering the wall next to my desk.

I’ve been offered a contract for my novella, Keeper, by Pink Petal Books.

To say I’m happy would be the understatement of the century.  I’m not sure I can even describe how I feel.  Amazing.

More later.  Today…I celebrate!

Days like today, I wonder why it took me so long to leave Las Vegas.

According to Google it’s 68 degrees here.  It’s not raining, but it smells like rain.  You know that yummy smell they try to make candles smell like but always fail?   I’ve lived in the desert for so long that rain-smell is like Christmas.  So rare it’s special.

In Vegas? It’s 93 degrees.  At 8 p.m. Guess what.  The rain smell is greatly diminished when it feels like you’re boiling in your own skin.

The breeze coming from my window feels so good.  The elm tree outside my window is blowing in the wind.  My veggies will get some good rain tonight I think.  And life is good.  It’s just really good.

I’ve finished the rewrite on Keeper.  I’m working on a final read-through of Devil You Don’t.  And I have a little back-up of story ideas in my head.  Who could ask for more?

I heard back from Pink Petal Books today. They sent me a revise and resubmit letter. That’s considerably better than a rejection. My brain knows that. My heart is a little heavy. But I’ll live. At least I know what the problems are, and I can fix them. One is a pretty major change to the structure of my story, and in retrospect I think I knew all along that it didn’t quite work. So, I’m going to see what I can do about fixing things up and get it back to them. And try to keep reminding myself that this is a step up from the stack of form rejections I have hidden in a desk drawer.

Isn’t it nice to come home? I really love the feeling of sleeping in my own bed after a few nights trying to sleep with a wiggly toddler on a narrow mattress. Especially because my husband is a little bit of a clean-o-holic and I know that I’ll come home to clean sheets and a house that smells pine fresh. I am so lucky.

Las Vegas was…Las Vegas. Hot. How did I live there for twenty years? I felt physically ill after just a couple of days. Oh, I know. I never left the house in the summer when I lived there. I even had groceries delivered during July and August. I’m such a wimp.

I really love living in the mountains.

I did get a lot done on my short story. A good hard-copy edit. Yesterday I plugged the edits into my story and ended up adding 1000 words. It’s a good story. I’m proud of it. I had meant for it to be light, chic-lit-y. It didn’t happen. Every edit has made it darker, and now it’s pretty much just on the lighter side of paranormal. That’s okay. It’s my thing. I don’t even read chic-lit, so I’m not sure why I thought I could write it.

I have two stories out there right now. My novel at Pink Petal Books and a short story at Ellora’s Cave. This is not a business for the impatient. I just looked back through my email, and I submitted my story to Ellora’s Cave two months ago. Two months.

That’s it for now. I have to get out to my garden. I just put in one last bed, and I need to get it planted. It’s still June, and the last frost was less than two weeks ago, but there’s still this feeling that I need to rush and get everything in so that it can grow up before the cold comes again in September. Especially the squash. I have pumpkins, butternut, golden nugget, and spaghetti squash seeds to plant! Yum!

About a week before I submitted Devil You Don’t to Pink Petal Books, I submitted it to Samhain Publishing. Last night I this was in my email:

Dear Shaunta:
Thank you for giving Samhain Publishing the opportunity to review your work, Devil You Don’t, for possible publication. Unfortunately, we won’t be extending an offer of publication for this manuscript.

Best, XXX

I’m pretty happy that the request for the full manuscript came from Pink Petal Books before I was outright rejected by a form letter by Samhain. Let me just tell you that there is nothing, nothing, like a form rejection letter to put an upstart writer in her place.

I was reading an agent’s blog recently and she was talking about how there are three ways to get attention in this very tight business. Be introduced, meet someone at a conference, and as a distant third, cold query.

With that in mind, I have a plan. I’m going to join Romance Writers of America. And I’m going to try to get myself to a conference in the next year. I’m going to enter myself in as many contests as I can get my fingers on. I’m going to do what doesn’t come particularly naturally to me: network. Anyone have an agent they want to introduce me to? LMAO

In other news, I finished Keeper. It’s just right at 15000 words by the skin of its teeth. I’m going to print it and take it to Las Vegas with me for a read over. I’d still love a couple of beta readers if anyone is interested.

I just finished reading my entire manuscript for my first novel, Devil You Don’t, in preparation for sending it to Pink Petal Books. It’s sent.

It’s been a good 18 months since I finished my last edit on it. I was really pleased with it when I re-read it last night and today. It’s a good, strong story. Even if it isn’t picked up, I’m proud of it. I found a few little things to clean up, but nothing major. I was a little afraid that giving myself that much space from it would have me cringing when I read it again. You know what I mean? But I didn’t. I even felt tension during the tense parts, and excited during the exciting parts. It works.

Now I get to wait to hear back from the publisher. And get back to work on my other projects.

Today, life is good.

This was in my email today:

Dear Ms. Alburger

Thank you so much for submitting DEVIL YOU DON’T. Both I, and another editor, have read it, and we would love to read the full manuscript. Please send it by email at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for thinking of Pink Petal Books!

XXX

Can you hear me squeeing? Can you?

Sometimes I daydream about having a perfect place to write.

A place that’s quiet, and pretty, with just the right amount of distraction. You know what I mean–enough to let me disengage myself when I’m trying to work something out, but not enough to make me totally forget that I’m supposed to be writing.

A comfortable chair, a clean desk, flowers, music. A place where I could hide myself away and be a Writer. Capital W.

Here’s my reality: I write with three kids under my feet, a desk that’s so cluttered, sometimes I can’t even get to the keyboard, a husband that feels compelled to ask me questions in direct proportion to how deeply involved I am in my story. I have Sponge Bob or Thomas the Tank Engine as background noise, a ringing phone and a screeching toddler for distraction, and a desk chair that has lost it’s hydraulics.

Maybe someday, when my kids are grown, I’ll have my own writing space. I’m not convinced that I’ll be any more productive. I grew up with eight little brothers and sisters. I can’t imagine life without noise and chaos. That’s the honest truth.

I’ve been going once a month to Las Vegas to take a class in advocacy for the disabled, and they put me up in a hotel. A beautiful hotel room, all to myself. And I feel like pulling my hair out by the end of the weekend. Maybe for some people a quiet place to work isn’t ideal. Even if I do sometimes dream of it.