Career Plans, anyone?

Time to follow up on my revelations. So, I’ve decided upon funny medievals. That’ll be my brand. Last night I also put together a set of goals and a Master Plan. In a nutshell, I’m going to work on standing out from the crowd. I want my work to sparkle and to grab an editor by the throat. Every once in a while, I’ve seen those “moments” in my ms, but for the most part, I’ll call myself a Pleasant Read. I need to be more than that. I need to be a “D*mn, she’s Good! Read”.

So, in my process, I developed these questions.
Who I am: (define yourself and your genre as narrowly as possible–what I can stick to for 4-6 books)
What people will say when they read my books: (will they think of me as poignant? Funny? Heartwarming?)
When people see my name on a book, they will think this: (what emotion will they feel when they think of my books?)
How I’m going to get there: (immediate goals–the things I can control)
Who will I target: (who is my dream publisher?)
How will I stand out from the crowd? (this is the kicker. If I want to be the next Nora, I have to polish my own voice so that I am noticeably different from the rest).
What is my timeframe: (here’s where I broke it down by month)

I found that it helped me set a schedule. Of course, anyone will tell you I am overly analytical. I make lists, charts, and then throw them all away when I write. But sometimes the act of getting it down on paper helps me to get it into my head.

I’m also going through my bookshelf of tried and true medieval plots. The one that keeps coming up that is so OVERDONE is the one where the warrior hero conquers the heroine’s castle and she must MARRY him to SAVE her people. :confused2:

I’d love to see a warrior heroine who rides in on a horse, conquers the hero’s castle, and forces him to marry HER.

A life-changing conversation

The agent called me back today. And I had, what I believe was, a life-changing conversation. In just over an hour, she zeroed in on my weaknesses and strengths, and helped me form a career plan. Dang, she’s good. Note–this was not an offer of representation. It was more of an, “I-read-your-book-you-have-talent-but-you’ve-got-a-journey-left-to-take” conversation. A helping hand up, if you will. I’ll be forever grateful for this conversation.

This was it, in a nutshell. She asked me a question that I’d never really thought of before. “If you were paid $50 million dollars and you were only allowed to write one type of historical romance, what kind would it be?” I tried to hedge and say–romantic comedy. Nope. Too vague. She wanted SPECIFIC. If I wanted to write funny, light medievals, that’s fine. Or funny, light Regencies, more power to me. But I COULD NOT WRITE BOTH. Not yet.

This is what rocked my socks. :confused: You see, I’d always believed that the way to success was to write a little bit of everything, to enjoy the path with lots of diversity. Now I’m coming to terms with the fact that although yes, I can have my cake (medievals) and ice cream (Regencies), I can’t have them together at the same time. Not as a new author. And especially not in Single Title World where I’m competing against Amanda Quick and Julia Quinn. I have to carve my niche and be PHENOMENAL within that niche.

If I were to publish a funny, light-hearted medieval, a reader who loved it would want to buy another one. She’d want another funny, light-hearted medieval. She would not want a dark, emotionally-wrenching medieval. She would not want a light-hearted Victorian (and yes, I’ve written both of those). She’d want more of the same style, but with new characters. Let me tell you, the light bulb went on.

My favorite authors: Susan Elizabeth Phillips (light-hearted contemporaries with athletic heroes).
LaVyrle Spencer–gripping, heart-rending historicals with an emotional journey
Julia Quinn–upbeat, light-hearted Regencies.

Oh my. There’s a pattern here. It’s called branding. And for the historical market, I need to be more specific. Sure, I can write the other subgenres. But I need to build my readership first. And the only way to do that is not to switch paddles in midstream. I need to write 4 or 5 fun medievals. Then maybe 4 or 5 fun Regencies. Maybe 4 or 5 Westerns. But not everything all at once. I had a complete, head-smacking, “DUH!” moment. I don’t think I ever consciously considered this.

When I look at the books I’ve completed, and I look at the style and type I really LOVE and WANT to write for the next 50 years, it comes down to the funny ones. I love to laugh, and I love to read books that tickle my funny bone. So this is what I need to do. I need to focus my career goals and build up books in a particular style. That way, when my publisher wants more of the same, I can stay within my genre but still have unique plots and situations. Two of my favorite SEP books are: Nobody’s Baby But Mine and It Had to Be You. They are totally different, but still within the same framework. Wow.

So brand me, baby. Funny medievals it is. Mooooooo.

Finding Miss Viola Swamp

I need to find Viola Swamp’s substitute number so I can call it in today. Ever read Miss Nelson is Missing? (The children’s book where sweet little Ms. Nelson is being taken advantage of, and she transforms into the nasty mean substitute teacher Viola Swamp who means business?)

Anyway, I need one of those. It’s not that my twelve-year-olds are the Spawn of Satan, but they do need someone who will lay down the law. Once, I had a substitute teacher who ignored all my lesson plans and read poems to the kids. They, and I, were aghast. You never know quite what you’re going to get when you call in for a substitute.

In any case, I’m not actually playing hooky today. The baby is sick, so I’m staying home with her (and praying that she takes lots of NAPS so I can write my little brains out). My goal is to revise somewhere in the neighborhood of 25-30 pages. Of course, with a sick child, it’s hard to say how much of this will become reality. They often become little suction cups, wanting to be physically attached to you all day. Baby snuggles are good, though.

Star Wars is out! :starwars:

The quest for a new babysitter

My American Title entry is in the mail. All right! It’s so nice to have a new opportunity in the hands of the U.S. Postal Service. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Still no word from the agent. I’m not worrying about it. I’ll let you know when and if she calls back. It reminds me of that book–He’s Just Not That Into You. Only in this case, it’s a different gender. I need to find someone who is excited and enthusiastic about my writing, because that will translate into the right fit for me and for my work. There is always the possibility that she was hit by a bus, but more likely it’s the case above.

In the meantime, last night I ventured into terrifying new territory. The babysitter I normally use for my children is going to be a senior next year, off to college, and I will lose her then. So I decided, since she was unavailable, to try someone else. :confused2: Scary!

It’s funny how all the baby books talk about how to find an appropriate caregiver, how to make sure they have no criminal record, etc. etc. and then when push comes to shove, parents will take a 13-year-old they don’t even know and leave their two precious babies alone with her. You really do get that desperate for a night out alone.

Fortunately for me, I’m a middle school teacher, and I do know most of the neighborhood kids. I know which ones are conscientious and will actually change a diaper, and which ones could not be trusted to feed a cat. If they turned in their homework on time, they’re in. Thankfully my three-year-old is old enough to start telling me what’s going on. Of course, he also tells me, “A bug ate Kenny at school today!” so you have to take his dialogue with a grain of salt.

Maybe it was all in my imagination?

Okay, clearly something is wrong here. Please bear with me, while I go through my ridiculous hysterics.

Saturday: I found a note that Agent X called (the note was on my grocery list). Being as it was 6:00 a.m., I wisely chose not to call. I sent a polite e-mail asking when it would be convenient to call. No response.

I figured, no biggie. Who checks their work e-mail over the weekend anyway? Not me. (I pretend that those parent e-mails don’t exist. No, no. Johnny could not possibly be eating paste and yes I KNOW he did his homework and is too scared of me to turn it in. Right.). Ahem.

So, I wait on tenterhooks for further instructions via email.

Monday: I realize that I don’t have access to my home email at work, and what if Agent X wants me to call at 10 a.m. and I can’t because I’m in the middle of teaching the Cuban Missile Crisis? What if I miss a call? No, no, this can’t happen.

Monday night after I get home. No email. No voice mail. Then I think…what if the message isn’t what I thought it was? Maybe my husband wrote down the name of a person who called long distance who coincidentally has the same name as Agent X. Maybe it was really an insurance agent working for Geiko. Yes, that must be the reason why Agent X hasn’t responded. Because she really wasn’t intending to call me. It was just an innocent mix-up.

Excuse me while I go look up insurance rates…:whistle:

The nutritional needs of toddlers

About the time my son turned one, our pediatrician reminded me that because his nutritional needs had decreased, he would start eating less and growing at a slower pace. My son was nicknamed “Bruiser” by the daycare staff, seeing as he was in the 90th percentile in height and weight. He inhaled anything we put on his plate and asked for more. He also would eat two breakfasts–one at home and the other at daycare. We rubbed our hands with glee, anticipating a football scholarship.

Now, at age three, he’s of average height and weight (darn it, we had to start one of those 529 college saving plans), and his eating habits have changed dramatically.

Me: Honey, eat your chicken.
Him: I don’t like chicken. I’ll just have peanut butter and jelly.
Me: That’s nice, but we’re having chicken. Come on, eat it.
Him: I don’t want it.
Me: (thinking–eat the darn chicken already!!!) Here, take a bite (shove bite into his mouth).
Him: (Frowns, and spits it on the plate) Can I have a treat?

The child, in his warped toddler logic, believes that by consuming a molecule of chicken, he is thereby entitled to milkshakes, chocolate, and cookies. I made a vow to myself that I wouldn’t become a short-order cook. I would make dinner and by God, the kids would eat what I served.

This is before I learned what Mommy guilt was. When your child puts on those tear-filled eyes, mouth quivering, saying, “I’m hungry, Mommy”:cry: –sometimes they just won’t eat the chicken. Then you feel like a horrible person :loser: because you are clearly STARVING your child by not making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I’ve given in once or twice. Usually when I was making something I knew he didn’t care for (spicy foods, usually, like chili). But mostly I’ve stuck to my guns, beaten myself up over sending my child to bed without eating dinner, and then consoled myself by the fact that he still eats two breakfasts. Thank goodness for that!

Michelle becomes a slashing butcher…

Last night I grabbed a (literary) machete and hacked my book apart. This was my first book, a book that I wrote without any clue what I was doing. I’m amazed that it ended up 412 pages long. How that happened, I’m not sure. Chapters one and two were vaporized in the process.

Anyway, as many of you know, I decided to enter the American Title contest with it. So far, this manuscript has been butchered. Passive scenes are lying in cyberspace bleeding from the wounds I’ve inflicted. I finally tightened it up until I felt good about it and sent it to my critique partners. They agreed that I needed to cut the first scene. I don’t know whether to laugh hysterically or thank them.

Having a fresh set of eyes is so crucial. I’m amazed at the stuff that gets past my radar when I’m self-editing. But sometimes you reach a point where you question–have I edited the heart out of this manuscript? Is it no longer my own? What’s happened to it?

I don’t recognize this book anymore. Maybe that’s a good thing. In the meantime, now I have to go back and do some more editing since chapter 4 will now become chapter 3. Rats. I had that puppy printed, the envelope addressed, and ready to go. Isn’t that just the kiss of death? Once you print it, you find every typo in the world.

On the bright side, it’s like having a new manuscript. Shhh! I can change the title and resubmit it, since in the past, it never made it past the proposal stage, except for Harlequin Historicals. Now there’s a good thought!

It’s a good thing he’s out of the country, or I’d have to kill him…

It’s 5:15 a.m. and the baby is up. I’d much rather :sleepy2:, but of course she won’t let me. I decided that since I’m the only adult in the house and my dh is away, I’ll do some of my shopping in the early morning. Wal-Mart it is.

I go to the refrigerator to grab a grocery list (I have one of those nifty magnetized lists), and while I’m checking the list of things I need to get, I see a note scrawled in the corner. Agent X called (phone number). Huh??:shock: An agent called yesterday and he didn’t think to tell me this???

Now my brain, of course, leaps into high gear. I start fantasizing that this agent will call me, gushing about how much she adores my book and it’s gonna sell, sell, SELL!

Then reality sets in. She may want me to do revisions. She may be calling to tell me to eat lye and die. Okay, probably not, since she called. But now my brain is going into overdrive as I make out a list of things I want to ask her about. I think I need more coffee.

In the meantime, I’m mailing more proposals today. Rock on. I love mailing manuscripts. More chances to sell!

Finding the little black dress…that fits!

I hate shopping for cocktail dresses. I have big hips, which means I have to go a size up. The dresses typically fit me in the hips, but not in the waist. I end up looking like a box. It’s rare that I find a dress that’s form-fitting in the waist and flares out enough for my mondo hips.

So when the dry cleaners RUINED one out of my two cocktail dresses that FIT, I was ready to murder somebody. Heads were gonna roll.

You see, when I peer into my closet, this is what I find:
1. Little black dress that fit me in college before I had two babies. I reminisce when I see the dress. Can’t bear to give it up.

2. Sleeveless red dress that highlights my jiggly cafeteria lady arms. Okay, I can probably wear it with a jacket.

3. Dresses I used to wear in high school that are hopelessly out of style but sort of fit me. A thirty-year-old can wear a bow on her butt, can’t she?

4. A sassy red dress with beadwork that actually fits.

5. A hoochie-mama floral dress that’s mid-thigh length. What was I thinking???

6. A classy teal dress that fits perfectly with BLEACH SPOTS that the EVIL DRYCLEANERS ruined!!

What have you found in your closet lately?

Romance novels I’d like to see written

Larissa Ione gave a great post today at Romancing the Blog on the lack of grit in romance novels. Bravo, I say.

Harlequin has a new line called Bombshell, with heroines who have that sort of grit. They’re your Jennifer Garners in Alias. It got me thinking about what kinds of romances I’d like to see written. Here’s what I would want:

1. An outlaw heroine who busts the bad guys and a hero with the guts to be her man.
2. A fed-up wife who’s been tormented by her evil ex-husband hires a hit man to “off” him, and she falls in love with the hit man. (Would you like to shoot him, honey, or should I?) :batman:
3. A spy hero who is caught, tortured, and rescued by the heroine.

What would you like to see in romance?

P.S.–My husband found this link which is fun. Rocket scientists have too much time on their hands . . .