Rhonda Penders
This is a link to an interview with the co-founder of The Wild Rose Press, my publisher. It's very interesting and makes me doubly happy that I'm one of their writers. View it here
Her Stories
In an on-going effort to self promote, I offered my help for an article about book trailers or book commericials. The article turned out nice, but my biggest thrill is there is my little ol book slipped in between some great writers like Alyssa Day and Laurel Bradley. Way cool company to be seen with. You can view the article at Her-Stories.
Edits and Second Contract
Editor Ami sent over the first round of edits for Upon Eagle's Light. Being my first edits ever, I stared at them for awhile, not knowing exactly how to go about inserting my own strikethroughs and such. Of course after I went through the trouble of finding the strikethrough function on the dropdown toolbar, it turns out I didn't need it as Ami had the document already set up so when I deleted something, it didn't delete, but struckthrough automatically. Duh. It also tracked the changes I made, not only in blue, but with a notation tracker that marked what time and day I changed it. I noticed some of her entries were made at 3:24 am. Now that's dedication. Or insomina.
I also stumbled on how to read her comments with the dropdown menu from the View toolbar. I can't even tell you what it feels like when your editor writes that she is crying at a particular part and that is a mark of a good writer. Yay, I made her cry.
Anyway, I had an entire month to go through the edits, though Ami suggested I take only a week so it could get released on schedule. It only took me two days, and yes I went over every word, every symbol, every sentence structure. Ami had already caught almost everything and she had some great suggestions. All in all, this was an enjoyable experience to see what she thought about it.
And while we were in the middle of that, I sent over a short story I had written. The Wild Rose Press is having a contest you can read about here.
The gist is it has to be a time/travel romance where the heroine travels back in time going through this particular garden gate in Bury, England. Well, I thought about it and came up with an idea about a girl who goes back to the Civil War, although unlike many characters who travel back in time, I wanted her to be someone who hadn't studied enough history to know much about it. You know like how the New Englander in King Arthur's Court knew the date of an eclipse. Had many people would really know the date of a eclipse?
Anyway, the story came at me fast, just flowed. I couldn't get it down fast enough. I even got cramps in my hand, no lie. I wrote it in 3 days in between work and then realized that the heroine was transported from a civil war museum. I'd totally forgotten that she had to go through a gate in England for the contest. And it worked so well the way I had it, I wasn't going to rewrite that part. So I bagged the contest and sent it in to Ami. She loved it and sent me the contract.
So now I have two books coming out. This one will be published as a short Miniature Rose. I'm very excited, esp. because now that I have more than one, I feel like maybe it wasn't just some quirk of luck, but that I really am a good writer. Now, I'm off to work on the eaglekin's sequel, which is not flowing nearly as fast as the time travel.
Here's a real short excerpt from The Sweetheart Tree:
“Oh, sugar,” a solider-reenactor-a tall, slender one cooed at her. “Did you think you’d be safer dressin like a lad? Is that why you cut your hair?”
“Did a poor job of it, if you ask me,” another said. “There’s no mistakin she’s a woman. You need something much baggier, miss, if you don’t mind me pointing out.” All eyes seemed to be taking in her jeans and T-shirt, which seemed to gleam in the darkness.
“I never saw attire like that,” the tall one said. “Where you from?”
“Montana,” she snarled it.
“Mont Anna? Is that in Prince Edward County?”
Oh, please. She had to hand it to these guys. They were sure staying in character, pretending they never heard of Montana as it wasn’t even a territory before the Civil War. They hadn’t missed a beat. None of them. What? Were they required to attend reenactment school?
She’d wasted enough time with them. “Please let go of me.”
The young lieutenant frowned down at her. “Ma’am, I can’t let a woman wander around out here alone. It’s not safe. Sheridan’s army is burning everything. Don’t you know what could happen to you?”
“Gee, let me think. You mean like being dragged into the bushes by several filthy men? Something like that?”
At least he had the decency to wince.
I also stumbled on how to read her comments with the dropdown menu from the View toolbar. I can't even tell you what it feels like when your editor writes that she is crying at a particular part and that is a mark of a good writer. Yay, I made her cry.
Anyway, I had an entire month to go through the edits, though Ami suggested I take only a week so it could get released on schedule. It only took me two days, and yes I went over every word, every symbol, every sentence structure. Ami had already caught almost everything and she had some great suggestions. All in all, this was an enjoyable experience to see what she thought about it.
And while we were in the middle of that, I sent over a short story I had written. The Wild Rose Press is having a contest you can read about here.
The gist is it has to be a time/travel romance where the heroine travels back in time going through this particular garden gate in Bury, England. Well, I thought about it and came up with an idea about a girl who goes back to the Civil War, although unlike many characters who travel back in time, I wanted her to be someone who hadn't studied enough history to know much about it. You know like how the New Englander in King Arthur's Court knew the date of an eclipse. Had many people would really know the date of a eclipse?
Anyway, the story came at me fast, just flowed. I couldn't get it down fast enough. I even got cramps in my hand, no lie. I wrote it in 3 days in between work and then realized that the heroine was transported from a civil war museum. I'd totally forgotten that she had to go through a gate in England for the contest. And it worked so well the way I had it, I wasn't going to rewrite that part. So I bagged the contest and sent it in to Ami. She loved it and sent me the contract.
So now I have two books coming out. This one will be published as a short Miniature Rose. I'm very excited, esp. because now that I have more than one, I feel like maybe it wasn't just some quirk of luck, but that I really am a good writer. Now, I'm off to work on the eaglekin's sequel, which is not flowing nearly as fast as the time travel.
Here's a real short excerpt from The Sweetheart Tree:
“Oh, sugar,” a solider-reenactor-a tall, slender one cooed at her. “Did you think you’d be safer dressin like a lad? Is that why you cut your hair?”
“Did a poor job of it, if you ask me,” another said. “There’s no mistakin she’s a woman. You need something much baggier, miss, if you don’t mind me pointing out.” All eyes seemed to be taking in her jeans and T-shirt, which seemed to gleam in the darkness.
“I never saw attire like that,” the tall one said. “Where you from?”
“Montana,” she snarled it.
“Mont Anna? Is that in Prince Edward County?”
Oh, please. She had to hand it to these guys. They were sure staying in character, pretending they never heard of Montana as it wasn’t even a territory before the Civil War. They hadn’t missed a beat. None of them. What? Were they required to attend reenactment school?
She’d wasted enough time with them. “Please let go of me.”
The young lieutenant frowned down at her. “Ma’am, I can’t let a woman wander around out here alone. It’s not safe. Sheridan’s army is burning everything. Don’t you know what could happen to you?”
“Gee, let me think. You mean like being dragged into the bushes by several filthy men? Something like that?”
At least he had the decency to wince.
Memorial
Got a call that some old family friends had suffered a tragedy. It's almost surreal. We knew them years ago, when both our families were young and we both had very young daughters close in age. They were the kind of people that barrelled into your life and affected it in big ways, both for good and not so good, but always affected it. We have a lot of dear mutal friends, even though we ourselves had to back off from the friendship, mostly because our husbands had business disagreements and there was a huge falling away.
But to their credit, and ours as well I guess, even though we attended church together for many years, there never was any gossip or back biting and we were able to live in peace. Shortly after the disagreement, J's (the mom) and I happened to go to our mutual friend's house at the same time. It was uncomfortable for a few moments because I really didn't bear her any ill will, but I didn't want to be non-supportive of my husband because his feelings were really raw at the time. I also knew she was worried because we were very popular in that congregation and I thought she might feel like the church members might view them as the bad guys in all this. So I told her the one thing that I knew was true in everything that had happened. I told her that I knew without any doubt that if I or my children needed help, I could call her husband and he would come to my aid without question. And regardless to anything else that had gone on, that was what was important and that was the kind of character I knew he had. I remember how her face lit up with relief, and after that, she and I were good. We never really hung out again together, but we both knew we were okay.
It took a few years longer for my husband to make peace, but he eventually did, even went out for lunch a few times with him, but we moved, and they moved and contact was scare. The last time I saw them was a year or so ago at a distance during a large church conference. J was singing in the choir, seated next to one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen, which I learned was her daughter R. Seriously, this is one of those kind of girls that radiate so much beauty, you can't stop looking at them.
Anyway two nights ago, Pat told me J and her oldest son were killed instantly in a head-on collision, two of the younger children were in critical (One has already passed as well) and R, that beautiful girl the same age as my daughter, was also hurt
but will survive. The dad was not with them. I just don't know how he can survive this. How could anybody? In a mere moment, half your family is gone. It's devastating to even think about, let alone live through. It's such a helpless feeling to know there isn't anything that any of us can do.
Faith was one our mutual friends. It was her husband that called us. She has written a touching memorial here.
But to their credit, and ours as well I guess, even though we attended church together for many years, there never was any gossip or back biting and we were able to live in peace. Shortly after the disagreement, J's (the mom) and I happened to go to our mutual friend's house at the same time. It was uncomfortable for a few moments because I really didn't bear her any ill will, but I didn't want to be non-supportive of my husband because his feelings were really raw at the time. I also knew she was worried because we were very popular in that congregation and I thought she might feel like the church members might view them as the bad guys in all this. So I told her the one thing that I knew was true in everything that had happened. I told her that I knew without any doubt that if I or my children needed help, I could call her husband and he would come to my aid without question. And regardless to anything else that had gone on, that was what was important and that was the kind of character I knew he had. I remember how her face lit up with relief, and after that, she and I were good. We never really hung out again together, but we both knew we were okay.
It took a few years longer for my husband to make peace, but he eventually did, even went out for lunch a few times with him, but we moved, and they moved and contact was scare. The last time I saw them was a year or so ago at a distance during a large church conference. J was singing in the choir, seated next to one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen, which I learned was her daughter R. Seriously, this is one of those kind of girls that radiate so much beauty, you can't stop looking at them.
Anyway two nights ago, Pat told me J and her oldest son were killed instantly in a head-on collision, two of the younger children were in critical (One has already passed as well) and R, that beautiful girl the same age as my daughter, was also hurt
but will survive. The dad was not with them. I just don't know how he can survive this. How could anybody? In a mere moment, half your family is gone. It's devastating to even think about, let alone live through. It's such a helpless feeling to know there isn't anything that any of us can do.
Faith was one our mutual friends. It was her husband that called us. She has written a touching memorial here.
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