I’ve always written. That’s just the start. I’ve dabbled with writing groups, with Nanowrimo, and being the isolated writer for most of my life, picking up and putting it down as life would divert my attention. This year, I put my foot down and said I’m going to make this writing thing more than just a vacation from the rest of my life. It will be a large part of my life.

First Decision: From Writer to Author – Achievement Unlocked

While technically I’d decided the last time I’d started dipping my toe into the possible publication route to go indie and not traditional since I was placing my flag in the ground this time around, I reviewed whether I still wanted to take on a lot of the front-loading that is indie publishing instead of going the route of finding an agent and going the traditional publishing route. Because of my personality, skill set, and let’s be frank, lack of patience (along with my need to control as many things as possible), I’ve decided to stick with going the indie publishing route to move from “writer” and into “published author”.

Second Decision: Indie Publishing – Achievement Unlocked

I pump out A LOT of words in the fall, usually thanks to Nanowrimo. But given the last two years of Nano shitting the bed on making good choices, that wouldn’t be an option for me this year. (Full story here). I’ve seen a lot of different folks trying to organize Nanowrimo alternatives, but nothing was speaking to me. I happened to attend a free webinar put on by Alessandre Torre (one of the founders of InkersCon, which I’ve attended virtually over the last few years) where she talked about her small group BootCamp she was running in October/November, which would have your work reviewed by three different pro editors, along with direct access to her in open Q&As, and small groups of your peers in the same part of the author journey. I couldn’t hit “Buy Now” quick enough.

Third Decision: Writing Bootcamp – Achievement Unlocked

While we worked through all of the classwork with the Bootcamp, we hit “Publishing” and “Marketing”… and the question that I feel would haunt me if I didn’t make the right decision before I hit Publish came up. To go KDP or to go Wide? Before working through the coursework, I thought, oh, I can go KDP exclusive for ebook, and then wide on print. But the more I did the work, and then fell into a bit of a rabbit hole of opinions and experiments from indies who went before me, especially for fantasy series, the more I hit the decision wall. It only makes sense to start Wide for me. Like choosing indie vs. trad, it’ll be more work on the front end, but it’s the right choice for me.

Fourth Decision: Go Wide – Achievement Unlocked

Now, I’ve reached where my skill set comes in. Because going indie means I’m responsible for editors, marketing, and book cover. I’ve done many book covers and author sites thanks to my freelance business, but looking at the market and comp titles for my fantasy series, my first attempt was soulless. Pretty, but soulless. My personal style was directly in the way of the market expectations. As I was working through the standard “what’s missing” conversations with friends and family, my kid piped in with some really great points, even though their own commission work hadn’t treaded into book cover territory. I ended up working out a deal with them and they’re finishing up the cover as I type this.

Fifth Decision: Book Cover Design – Achievement Unlocked

Next, while I wait for the developmental editors’ feedback from the Bootcamp, I’m starting to gather interested parties to become my beta readers while I wrap up my edits (which if you’re following along on my socials, I just ripped out my entire Act 2 to rewrite it **cries**). While I’ve had lots of friends say “Sure, I’d love to read it” I wanted to put words into action, so I’ve created a Beta Reader Interest Form to keep it all official. I shared out that link to my newsletter, and I’ve already had a few folks sign up.

Sixth Decision: Beta Readers – Achievement Unlocked.

Up next: I’ll need to hire an editor, figure out if I’m going to format my work or hire it out, and so much more. The goal is the beginning of the year to publish The Hand of Mashyana, Book One of my Action-Adventure Fantasy Series. This decision list is really the tip of a scary but exciting adventure. I’ve been writing in some form online since 2003, so I’m going to try and keep up both the joys and the pains of this next experiment here.

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I’ve participated in National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo) since 2003. Twenty years, y’all. And here’s where I hang up my hat and say I won’t be participating any longer, thanks to their stance on using AI.

Listen, y’all – I work with AI, and have for years for the day job. I understand its uses and limitations and think it can be a helpful tool in many cases. I have one main stopping point when using AI, though.

I cannot abide by AI in the creative fields. That’s not where it belongs.

To be this completely tone-deaf (at best) by attempting to say that not supporting the use of AI in a creative field like writing. Chuck Wendig says it much more succinctly than I can:

Chuck really breaks down all of the ways that this use of generative AI in particular harms the creative fields in particular – go ahead and give it a read.

It really does hurt my heart to say goodbye to Nanowrimo, as it really did change me, allowed me to play in genres and worlds that I wouldn’t have had the confidence to do. I also WROTE, without care or letting in the inner editor, winning over half of the nanos that I participated in.

So long, Nanowrimo…. it was so good for so long.

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Why Nanowrimo?

Why do I do this? In part, to prove to myself that I can, but from another viewpoint, I tend to use Nano as my way of testing out my collection of random story ideas as a bit of a litmus test. If I can take a sentence or two that I’ve written down in a digital or analog journal and churn out 50,000 in 30 days, it seems to have legs to finish it.

Also, I love playing in new genres during Nano just to see if they interest me as a writer and not just as a reader.

Last year was my first real foray into Epic/Multi-POV Fantasy, and I adored it enough that I’m doing it again this year. Mind you, if you head over to my Goodreads profile I read a lot of it, but I don’t write it. I’ve never felt that I could write in this genre for a multitude of reasons, but I’m happy to say that I really, truly love writing it as much as I love reading it.

So what’s your process?

If you haven’t gotten the theme yet, I adore playing around during Nanowrimo with all kinds of things – ideas, genres, and processes. I’ve used just about every kind of published process out there during PrepTober (October prep for November’s writing).

This year I’m going back to the Beat Sheet I used last year, Take off Your Pants by Libbie Hawker. For someone who has been a self-described Plantster (mix of plotter and pantser) for most of my writing life, I tend to lean a little harder on the pantser mentality than I do plotting out things, so this beat sheet for outlining has been so great for me.

The thing I’ve found with this method of outlining is that it focuses on my favorite part of writing, the characters. I think that’s why I’ve struggled before with some beat sheets and outlines where the plot is the driver, while my lovely little imaginary friends, my characters, will always be my primary focus when I’m writing things.

So what’s happening this year?

I’m being a little bit of a rebel this year because I’m taking last year’s Nano novel, and I’m just starting over. There were some fabulous pieces in there, but I think I flip-flopped on what was important to the story itself, so I’m going to start it over. Not only am I going to be rewriting the book, but I have already begun percolating on making this an actual trilogy.

Book 1 (and more than likely the series) is currently named “The Hand of Mashyana” and I’ve been playing around with a little bit of a blurb.

In the enchanted realm of Emari, loyalty and trust are everything, and Farah has been raised to honor the Mashyana above all else. As a servant of the queen, she’s unwavering in her devotion, until the day she’s tasked with a mission that will change everything.

Yasher, a wily traveler and card shark from a distant northern kingdom, possesses a powerful relic—the Eye of Rashnu—a relic of untold significance. Unaware of its true power, he is thrust into Emari’s dangerous political intrigue.

When Farah’s path crosses with Yasher’s, their worlds collide in a realm where secrets are woven into the very fabric of humanity’s existence when a dark ambition that threatens Emari and its gods emerges. Farah must confront her allegiance, trust in new allies, and confront the realities of power and betrayal.

As the battle for the relics escalates and the fate of the gods hangs in the balance, Farah and Yasher must work together to unveil the Eye of Rashnu’s true purpose. In a world where loyalty can be a weapon and trust the greatest treasure, they face not only the sinister secrets, unlikely allies and enemies, and try to save the gods that abandoned them centuries ago.

Mind you, this is all subject to change as I write this month, but I’m really feeling it so far.

Want to keep up with my writing this month in particular? Hit me up on my socials to follow along.

Threads | Instagram

And if you’re participating in Nanowrimo this year, I’d love to be buddies!

Happy Nanowrimo to all who celebrate!

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Yeah, about that…

I worked solidly through my edits, and I started pushing toward the light at the end of the tunnel.

Then, Ahmaud Arbery was murdered. The pandemic got worse. Then George Floyd was murdered. The pandemic got worse. Then the election. The pandemic got worse. Then January 6. The pandemic got worse, and we decided we’d ignore it. Then, then, then.

I shut down. I stopped doing anything and everything outside of basic functional responsibilities. Family and work were all I could get myself out of bed to do. I started a new day job in the middle of 2021 as well, and every ounce of energy not expended to just get through the day was spent on trying to learn a new company and manage new people who were not used to having a manager who didn’t live in the same area as they did.

Opening up Scrivener caused me outright anxiety, let alone thinking about writing anything. I attempted to work on edits, even getting a new editor for Lens, but I just couldn’t seem to focus for more than short bursts.

That, my friends, is all to say, Depression sucks. Depression lies. Depression knocks you flat on your ass to where you don’t want to get up off the floor.

While I’m not ‘fixed’ yet (the joys of being bipolar means you just figure out what works and what doesn’t) I am writing again. For the moment, I’ve paused edits on Lens, and I’ve been remembering how to write with a new, completely off-brand for me Fantasy for this year’s Nanowrimo project, and it’s honestly going really well. I feel like I’m slowly digging myself out of this hole.

On the plus side, I can work on my own schedule because I plan to self-publish, but I am starting pretty much from scratch because of the last two (almost three) years. While disappointing, I’m feeling confident that I’ve finally had the shift that I’ve been struggling with for so long.

Onwards, y’all.

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To say that 2019 wasn’t kind to me was a little bit of an understatement. Three different (day) jobs, two close family deaths and just a multitude of things going sideways all contributed to me not making any head-way into the goals that I’d set for myself personally and professionally here as an author. 

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I came across a quote, “Love is friendship set on fire” somewhere out in the world, and tonight it just brought this scene to mind. While just a bit of flash fiction, I think I might have to come back to this character, as she seems to have much more to say.

Some days I can forget you. Some days I can forget the fact that from the moment I saw you I knew you were going to be the greatest love story of my life.

Some days I can forget how you saved me without even knowing what you had done, picked me up and set me up on my path with your smile. You didn’t even know who or what I was and you reached out to help. That’s just what you do.

Some days I can even forget how you ripped out my heart with your smile, wrapping your arms around her. I smiled along with you as you walked down the aisle to her, steeling myself by saying to myself that this was just what was meant to be.

Some days I can forget watching the two of you, wishing that I’d spoken up before you’d made your choice. Before you’d even had a choice presented to you. Before my fear of rejection took precedence over my possible happily-ever-after.

Some days I can remember you telling me how she ruined you, made you less of a person until you couldn’t take it any longer. Some days I can forget walking, drinking, as you poured your heart out in your words. I was made mute, keeping my heart bottled up because I was just starting to heal so many years down the road.

Some days I can forget how I lied to you, saying that I once had a crush, but it was no more. The bar stool became a vise, squeezing the lies out to make myself feel better, to pad up my heart from you before you ripped it to shreds again.

Some days I can forget how the wounds seeped open in my heart as I saw the new girl on your arm. I scalded my tongue with coffee to keep the lies from becoming the truth at the worst possible moment. I tried to be happy for you, starting to repair your own heart.

Some days I can forget how I walked away, letting you live your life without me. Some days I can forget how the heart doesn’t really heal, it just puts a layer of scar tissue to help you get through the days that you can’t forget any longer.

Some days I don’t even pull out your pictures any longer.

If only one of us could be happy, I always wanted it to be you.

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Work has been… well, work. I did start a Google Drive to throw the random prompts that I come across into… while I’ve got my long-form Nanowrimo idea doc already, most of those aren’t really made for short-form writing. I still think I need to get back into more short-form work – the more I look at the long-form pieces that I have partially finished, the more it bugs me that they’re still just partially finished.

Maybe I’m just over-thinking it – Which I’ve been known to do, just a little. 🙂

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CindieLee Hendon, who saw me through some of my extreme lows and highs as I left teen years and headed into adulthood, died today. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. So close to the first anniversary of my mother’s death, I just don’t think a part of me will allow for me to start processing this just yet. Instead, it swirls memories of watching her son Morgan (introducing him to South Park – yes, I know, I’m going to hell for that), or her pride when she bought the house that she still lived in on her own after a rough divorce.

One day I was at work at the little ISP in St. Marys when I got a bit of a shock of Cindie and her husband rushing in. She looked frantic, her hair tied up tightly in a bandana.

“Amber! Help me! I colored my hair, and it’s PURPLE.” she said to me and my at-that-moment fuchsia hair.

I took her into the employee bathroom and she pulled off the bandana. Sure enough, it was a gorgeous amethyst on her head, when she was trying for a medium auburn. While Cindie was a daredevil in some respects, we could agree that going to PTA meetings in the late-90’s probably wouldn’t have gone over all that well.

She tucked her hair back up and I sent her off with a list of things to get from the beauty supply shop, and then we fixed it to a darker auburn than her normal, but the amethyst was no more. I really wish that I’d gotten a photo of that then, and really, I think she’d get a giggle if I could have posted it now.

Good night and joy be with you…

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Meanwhile, I was working. I wish I could say that I knocked out a decent word-count today, but that would be a lie. Instead, I dealt with post-launch items from the show site that launched yesterday, then logged off to do some freelance work. I did end up writing up two new project estimates for freelance, so there’s that. The kid is off to her cousin’s for another weekend away, so maybe I can actually get some words down on paper (you know what I mean…) while she’s gone.

Look, Ma… Three days I’ve written here. It’s a miracle of sorts.

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At 2:14pm ET on February 6, 2013, my mother died.

I’ve been sitting, staring at that last sentence for over an hour. What else is there to say? A year ago my mother died. The rational part of my brain knows that this is just part of the cycle, but that doesn’t make anything better. We were there to say goodbye, which I know too many people don’t get the chance to do. Some folks would say that should make me feel better… but it doesn’t. Not really at all. She’s still gone, and I’m still fumbling to work out my “new normal”. My life, my family, my work – all of these things keep pushing me to find the “normal” part of the “new normal”.

The last year has been filled with “gotcha” moments, thoughts that slam me into a wall that she’s gone, over and over. Most of the raw emotions have scabbed over, but the old saw of ‘time healing all wounds’ is complete bullshit. These aren’t scars I’m carrying, they’re scabs that are easily picked at and start bleeding when you least expect them to. I juggle the day-to-day things that come from this “new normal” and keep myself upright on the days that all I want to do is curl up in a ball and bawl my eyes out, because I have to. I have my own daughter, who I know one day will have to make the same decision one day to get the hell out of bed and deal with the same intensely itchy scabs that this has left me with. That she will have to go through this one day terrifies me, but it’s just the way that it is, and there’s nothing that I can do about that. All I can do is try and do the best that I can for her as her parent to prepare her for that day. To try and make sure that some of the roadblocks that I put up between myself and my mother over the years don’t show up in our lives.

One day she’ll be staring at a date that she can’t escape.

At 2:14pm ET on February 6, 2013, my mother died. Every day since then I try to find something to get me through, to help me stop picking at the scabs.

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