Wednesday, September 17, 2014

The making of HELLO LOVE by Karen McQuestion

This is Anni, an adorable little dog who lives in Miami. Her human-mom is my niece Shelly. For months I heard stories about Anni and I received the cutest pictures. The photos were titled things like, "Anni being lazy" & "Anni in her sweater" & "Anni looking guilty." Besides being oh-so-cute, Anni has a very sweet personality. Believe me, this dog is much loved and the love goes in both directions.

Around the same time as I was hearing about Anni, a friend made an offhand comment that, "Dogs are the new baby," which struck me as being exactly right.

I'd long had the thought that it would be fun to write a novel from two alternating points of view, especially if the characters didn't know each other, but kept crossing paths again and again. As a structural device, this would enable the reader to know more than the characters, which is always fun. As the story took shape in my head, I realized that a lost dog would play a role in the book, and the image of Anni popped up. I asked my niece for permission to use her dog in my book, and she said yes. For inspiration, I tacked up photos of Anni next to my desk.

The resulting novel, Hello Love, came out yesterday. I think the cover designer did a wonderful job finding a stand-in for Anni. The dog on the cover is precious. Look at that face!

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Book description: 

A year after the death of his wife, Christine, Dan is barely holding on. But one thing gets him through the long, lonely nights and that is his cherished dog, Anni. When she is stolen from his front yard, Dan and his daughter, Lindsay, are devastated. Meanwhile in another part of town, Andrea Keller is recovering from the heartbreak of a messy divorce. After she rescues a defenseless dog from an abusive tenant, her life changes in ways she never could have anticipated.

Dan and Andrea cross paths again and again, only to keep missing each other and the opportunity of a lifetime. As Anni works to find her way home, can she bring together these two lost souls desperately in need of a second chance at happiness?

Here's Anni, playing it cool, but secretly thrilled with her new celebrity status.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

The Big Keep by Melissa F. Olson

Today on the blog, my friend author Melissa Olson talks about one of the challenges she faced writing her hot new crime novel, The Big Keep

Take it away, Melissa!

Hello everyone, and thank you so much to Karen for letting me appear on her blog today. I’ve published two (almost three) urban fantasies before this, but The Big Keep is my first foray into writing a straight-up mystery. And as I was working on the book, I found myself facing a unique challenge: writing someone’s marriage.

See, as an urban fantasy writer, I’ve tended to blow right through the sections of my books that involved romantic relationships, because I’ve only really written relationships that were either about to begin or very near the beginning. I can write flirting, and banter, and even foreplay*.

However, for The Big Keep, I found myself writing a fully-formed, already-in-progress, five-year-old marriage. And I realized that writing a marriage is almost like writing a whole other character. But unlike most characters, who you can put together using bits and pieces of people you know, writing a marriage is…tricky. Because no one outside of a relationship really knows what goes on inside it. And because every marriage is wildly different, maybe even more so than people.

Lucky for me, my protagonist, Lena Dane, spends much of The Big Keep avoiding her husband, Toby. She’s pregnant, you see (this happens on page 1, so I have spoiled nothing), and although she and her husband are happy, she’s totally unprepared for motherhood. She has, in fact, spent much of her recent time trying not to think about having kids. So Lena does what she always does when faced with an uncomfortable truth about herself: she runs. She throws herself into her work as a private detective, and into her new case trying to track down a missing writer.

And how does Toby react to that? Well, not with a whole lot of surprise, because he knows exactly who his wife is. When I was “building” this couple, I came up with the character of Lena first, and then once I understood her and what drives her, I tried to come up with a male character who would complement that, complement her, but also challenge her a little, push her toward being the best version of herself. That was my way in. So I actually created Lena, then the relationship, then Toby. And I’m really pleased with how my lead couple turned out. I’m not going to lie, I’ve also got a bit of a crush on Toby. Too bad he’s just perfect for Lena.

*I cannot, however, write erotic scenes. I run out of synonyms really early in the process.

Melissa Olson was born and raised in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, and studied film and literature at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. After graduation, and a brief stint bouncing around the Hollywood studio system, Melissa landed in Madison, WI, where she eventually acquired a master’s degree from UW-Milwaukee, a husband, a mortgage, a teaching gig, two kids, and two comically oversized dogs, not at all in that order. She loves Madison, but still dreams of the food in LA. Literally. There are dreams. Learn more about Melissa, her work, and her dog at

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Cover reveal for HELLO LOVE by Karen McQuestion

Yesterday I received an email from my brilliant (and very patient!) editor, Terry Goodman, with the heading "HELLO LOVE - FINAL COVER."  I opened the attachment, saw this cover, and fell in love. That face! Who couldn't love that face?  

I think all the back and forth with Terry (who served as mediator between me, the team, and the cover designer) was well worth it. I hope Terry agrees. It's not easy being the man in the middle. :-)

As an added bonus, author Claire Cook generously gave the book her endorsement (you can see it at the top of the cover). Claire is, of course, the bestselling author of the book MUST LOVE DOGS, among others. If you haven't read any of her books yet, you'll definitely want to check them out.

But now back to HELLO LOVE. This is the story summary:

From the bestselling author of The Long Way Home comes a charming novel about loss and the faith that restores broken lives.

A year after the death of his wife, Christine, Dan is barely holding on. But one thing gets him through the long, lonely nights and that is his cherished dog, Anni. When she is stolen from his front yard, Dan and his daughter, Lindsay, are devastated. Meanwhile in another part of town, Andrea Keller is recovering from the heartbreak of a messy divorce. After she rescues a defenseless dog from an abusive tenant, her life changes in ways she never could have anticipated.

Dan and Andrea cross paths again and again, only to keep missing each other and the opportunity of a lifetime. As Anni works to find her way home, can she bring together these two lost souls desperately in need of a second chance at happiness?

The book comes out September 16th, but is already available for pre-order. I see from the ranking and the "Also boughts" that the book has gotten some orders already, which thrills me to no end. I hope readers enjoy the book as much as I love the cover!

Thursday, June 12, 2014

My Writing Process

Author Lesley Kagen, or as she's known in my house "New York Times bestselling author, Lesley Kagen" invited me to take part in a blog roll wherein authors share their writing process. How could I say no to a New York Times bestselling author?

If you're not familiar with Lesley, you should be. I'll quote author Heather Gudenkauf who said it better than I could:

"Lesley Kagen is one of my favorite authors and I especially love her novels WHISTLING IN THE DARK and GOOD GRACES. Lesley has this magical ability of making her characters come to life on the page. Lesley’s newest project, a novella entitled THE UNDERTAKING OF TESS will be released this summer. I’ll be first in line for this one!"

This is Lesley's take on her writing process.

Now, let's talk about me. 

Right now I’m writing a young adult SciFi romance novel called Under the Stars (at least that’s the working title).  This is one of those books that is big fun to write. I wake up every morning and think, Oh good, I can work on my book today!

Well, first of all my work, unlike others of its genre, is written by me as opposed to all those other authors. (Sorry, couldn't resist!)
Here’s my more thoughtful answer—I have a readable, linear style, and my books tend to have elements of humor and/or fantasy.

I follow the ideas as they take shape in my head. I once did a blog post titled WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR IDEAS? which covers this exact topic.  

I try to write every day with a goal of 2,000 words each time. As for how I start my books: usually I get an idea involving a person in a certain situation. As I write, I feel my way through the scene which leads to the next scene and the next. The act of writing fiction often feels the same as remembering to me. Sometimes I’ll go to bed at night stuck at a certain point in my novel-in-progress (maybe even a little panic-stricken), and in the morning I’ll “remember” what happens next. I suspect my brain is working overtime.

It doesn't work if I try to force an idea I’m not enthused about. I also have problems when I take a break from writing. More than a day or two away from a book and I lose my train of thought and it gets hard to get back into the story.


I love the line in the book Charlotte's Web that says: "It is not often someone comes along that's a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both."  With that in mind, I've chosen three authors who are like Charlotte.

Kay Bratt - It was a stroke of luck that brought Kay and me together. She messaged me on Facebook and introduced herself, something which was complete unnecessary because I'd read some of her books and was already a fan. Since then, I've decided that her books just keep getting better and better. I especially love, love, love her series, Tales of The Scavenger's Daughters. Don't be deterred by the fact that her novels are set in China. Her stories pull you in, and the history and cultural details are skillfully woven into the narrative. Check out her books and go read about her writing process. You won't be sorry.

Maria Murnane - I met Maria in NYC at a publishing function and was a little intimidated by her, if I have to be honest. In the movie, Miss Congeniality (one of my favorites), Miss Rhode Island, Cheryl Frasier, gives a speech at the end calling the Sandra Bullock character, "The nicest, sweetest, coolest girl at the pageant." That describes Maria exactly. Add that to the fact that her books are compared to Bridget Jones's Diary and you'll know she's a also terrific writer and funny too. Go check out her novels and read about her writing process too while you're at it!

Christopher Herz - Christopher's last name means "heart" in German, which is so appropriate. Once I commented via email that my mom was recovering from a health scare and he sent her a black and white cookie along with a nice note. The thing is--they had never met. He was just doing something nice to be nice. I still think about that and smile. He's written three books and they cannot be neatly slotted into any category. I can tell you that I love his rich use of language and his spot-on descriptions. When the scene is set, you are there. Sometimes, though, his novels  make me a little squeamish, the same way I feel about Chuck Palahniuk's books (you've probably heard of FIGHT CLUB). But always, always, Christopher Herz's novels linger in my mind and I find I'm still connecting the dots days later. Go and see for yourself! 

Friday, June 6, 2014

What I'm working on right now:

When I first starting writing books, I spent a lot of time circling around, unsure of how to get to the heart of the story. My first novel took more than two years to write and I revised it for months after that. Lately, though, I've been writing like I have a guillotine over my head, one that could drop at any moment. I feel an urgency to get stories down as quickly as possible. Part of my new fast-writing philosophy I can attribute to inspiration from authors Dean Wesley Smith and Rachel Aaron. Also, writing novels just feels more doable than it has in the past. Even when I get stuck, I know it's part of the process and I push through. Having done this before, I know I can do it again. That confidence translates to speedy writing. And so, for the second time this year, I am nearly done with a book.

This particular book is a young adult, SciFi novel. If all goes well, I should have a completed draft by the end of the month. Between now and then I will be avoiding the Internet. I can distract myself just fine, thank you very much.

In the meantime, I'm doing something I've never done before--posting the first few pages of a work-in-progress. Keep in mind that this is a rough draft. I don't think there are many obvious errors or typos, but there might be. Right now I'm just concentrating on soldiering through to the end. There will be time for revisions and polishing and endless tweaking later on. 

Happy writing, happy reading, and happy June!

Under the Stars

 A piercing light flashed across the sky and plunged to the earth, landing in a farmer’s field.  The old dog, Mack, who had been peeing against the side of the barn, saw the disc-shaped object crash and bounce before skidding thirty feet, throwing dirt as it went.  A high-pitched humming and faint glow came off the object, arousing his curiosity, and he trotted out to take a look. Getting closer, he approached cautiously, nose to the ground.  The object was the size and shape of his water bowl, rimmed with lights and topped with a shiny dome.
            Mack circled around and sniffed it before inching forward, his eyes glowing from the reflection of the object’s light. As he watched, the top popped open with a gentle hiss, leaving a snout-sized gap. At the same time, the lights on the object went off.  The old dog was sure his boy, Lucas, would be interested in this. It had been a longstanding tradition that Mack brought back anything of interest from his explorations, something that never failed to delight the boy.  He always got an enthusiastic rub behind the ears for his trouble, and sometimes a treat, but as curious as the Mack was, he was also wary of this thing. It didn’t smell like anything he’d ever encountered before. Under different circumstances, he’d have marked the spot and brought Lucas back here later on during a walk, but the boy hadn’t gotten out of bed in a long time and he knew the other people in the house wouldn’t help. All of them, except the girl, acted as if Mack were a nuisance.  Sometimes he even had to remind them to fill his food bowl. 
            The night sky was bright with stars and a nearly full moon, and as his eyes adjusted he let his nose get closer for a good smell. Metallic, almost like blood but not quite. And there was something else too, something he couldn’t quite place. So very odd. Of all the millions of smells he’d gotten a whiff of in his life, this wasn’t one of them. He knew the smell of humans, Lucas being his favorite. The boy’s sweat after working in the fields or coming home from ball practice signaled his arrival before he even came into view. Later, when things changed and Lucas had less energy for their walks, the boy’s smell became tinged with a medicinal odor which seeped out of his pores and clung to his clothing and hair. The relationship between the dog and his boy changed too, with Lucas having barely enough energy to pet him and the others shooing him out of the room at every turn. And now Lucas slept around the clock. It just wasn’t right.
            Mack heard the creak of the screen door opening before the woman’s voice rang out. “Mack? Where are you? Get back here now!” Her tone was impatient and he knew if he didn’t return to the house soon she’d lock the door and he’d be stuck outside until morning. He yipped a quick response before quickly sticking his nose into the opening at the top of the disc-shaped object in order to commit the smell to his olfactory memory. This time he caught a different odor: something alarming, something alive. At the very second his brain grasped this fact, a shapeless something flew out of the craft, latched onto his nose and shifted straight up to his eyes. The sensation was stronger than a breeze, almost like a splash of water to the face, but not exactly like that either. He stepped back, blinked, and shook his head trying to get the thing off of him, but it was stuck, covering his eyes and making his vision was murky. Panic-stricken, he panted and trembled, until he felt it seep through the membranes to the back of his eyes. A split second later, he felt nothing. It was gone. He whined to himself, a sound of relief.
            “Mack! I mean it!” Her voice pierced the night air. It was the sound of aggravation and bone-weary tiredness, but the dog only heard the finality of it. He barked to let her know he was on his way, then turned and raced back to the house.

Chapter Two

“Emma, it’s getting late. I looked up to see Mrs. Walker in the doorway with her arms crossed, obviously trying to do an impression of a stern parent. “Were you planning on staying all night again?”
Really? She had to ask? After all this time she still didn’t get it. If my own mother didn’t mind if I was here night and day, what was her problem? “Yes,” I said looking down at Lucas, lying still in the bed next to me. I wasn’t going to leave him. Not now. Not ever.
            “Okay,” she said, giving in and turning around. I heard her in the kitchen, setting up the coffee for the next day, then emptying the dishwasher. Lucas’s hospital bed had been set up in the dining room, right in the middle of the house. Lucas’s parents had no idea how much I’d heard of their private conversations, their many discussion concerning me and Lucas and his so-called impending death. All of it reached my ears. I knew they didn’t want me here in their home. They resented my imposition on their family. They felt I was stealing time from them, taking precious final moments with their son. But they didn’t have the heart to keep me away.
 During the school year Mrs. Walker made a good case for me to go. I had school to attend in the morning, homework to do in the evening. I’d already dropped out of all my extra-curriculars, but I didn’t want to miss school. When Lucas got better, he’d be finishing high school. I was a year behind him originally, but with all the time he’d taken off for the treatment of his cancer, he’d have a lot to make up. If all went well, we’d wind up graduating together. Back then I reluctantly left his side to go to classes and tried to concentrate on my subjects, but found it nearly impossible. My grades should have taken a hit, but I think my teachers felt sorry for me, the girlfriend of Lucas, the guy who was valiantly battling cancer, so they took that into account and gave me grades I didn’t quite deserve. All of them loved Lucas. He was the golden boy of Westridge High: blond curly hair, football star, honor student, great personality, always smiling. It was a small country high school and everyone knew him. Everyone liked him too. All the guys were buddies. All the girls wanted him for their boyfriend. But they couldn’t have him. He was mine.
And I was his. I was his savior, the one he hung on for. He’d said as much, back when he was speaking, and even now, when he was comatose, I could tell he knew I was there, right by his side. I spoke to him and stroked his hair and when Mr. and Mrs. Walker and Lucas’s brother Eric weren’t around I did more than that, kissing him and caressing his skin, hoping somehow to reach him. Hoping he’d find the emotional thread that linked us so I could pull him away from the next world and back into this one.
When Lucas and I had started dating at the end of my sophomore year it was pretty clear I wasn’t his parents’ first choice for their son. It didn’t matter that I was an honors student and used my best manners; they were still stuck on the fact that my mother and I lived in a trailer park off the highway. That, and the fact that I am and always have been completely father-less. The first dinner at their house, Mrs. Walker had asked, “What does your dad do, Emma?”
Lucas shot his mother a disapproving look, but I was ready with my standard response. I shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I’ve never met him.” My mom had told me that my father had been an international student at the university where she’d once worked as an administrative assistant. They’d had a fling for a few weeks and then he was gone, back to where he came from. Mom was vague about his country of origin, but judging from my coal black eyes, olive skin, and dark hair it was likely he was Middle Eastern. My mom wasn’t much for long term relationships. She’d always had boyfriends, but none of them were keepers. One had shown me how to hot wire a car and the best way to roll smokes. That guy was named Owen. He didn’t last long before Mom found out about his outstanding warrants and gave him a kick to the curb. Her taste in men was questionable, but at least they never lived with us.
So the Walkers looked down on me. Once, when we were in the next room I overheard Lucas’s mother say, “She follows him around like a duckling, like she’d be lost without him.” Lucas wanted to confront her about this, but I talked him out of it. This was back when I still thought I could win them over. But it never happened. Lucas and I were together for a year and the entire time they hoped we would break up, but we didn’t.  I didn’t think too much of them either, for two reasons. First of all, for as many problems as my mom had, she was the perfect mother as far as I was concerned because she didn’t try to claim credit for everything I did. Sometimes I’d hand her my report card or show her a paper I wrote and she’d practically cry with joy. “Brilliant,” she’d say, hugging me. “You are absolutely brilliant. I’m so impressed.” Not like Mr. Walker who took credit for everything Lucas did, bragging, “He takes after me.” Or worse yet, smugly telling Lucas, “See, I told you if you studied, you’d get an A.” And then he always had to add, “Now don’t get complacent. You still have to keep this up for the rest of the semester, you know.” No kidding, Sherlock.
So that was the first reason I wasn’t a fan of Lucas’s parents. The second reason is that they gave up on him so easily. Sure he had cancer, but big deal, people had cancer and overcame it all the time. It was a shock for everyone when he was diagnosed, but Lucas was athletic and strong. All you had to do was look at him and you knew he’d survive He was life. Lucas could run like the wind. I’d seen him lift a ninety pound calf like it was nothing. It was unthinkable that he’d die. I just knew this was a temporary bump in the road. Something to beat. We had plans, the two of us, and dying of stupid cancer wasn’t part of them.
But both of his parents had given up on him right from the start. They always thought the worst. His mother couldn’t look at Lucas without getting teary-eyed. And Mr. Walker was devastated to learn the treatment would leave Lucas sterile, as if passing on the family genes meant anything at a time like this. Mr. and Mrs. Walker had hushed conversations about statistics, and treatment plans and numbers. Always the numbers. They’d say, “The numbers didn’t look good. They’re not in the range.” Their negativity was everywhere, seeping from room to room, poisoning the air. Later on they started talking about funerals and how they didn’t want him to suffer any longer and I had to put my hands over Lucas’s ears to keep him from overhearing. The last member of the family, Lucas’s younger brother Eric, started to avoid everyone, including me and Lucas. When he wasn’t doing chores or going to school, he was out in the barn, tinkering on old cars in his workshop. He holed up in there like he hoped to come out someday and find everything fine again. Classic avoidance strategy.
I was the only one dealing with this in a sane way. The only one. After he went into a coma even the visiting nurses tried to undermine me. They’d point out how much weight Lucas had lost, how his skin tone had changed, and point out his shallow breathing. One of them, a tall woman named Nancy put her hand on my shoulder and talked to me like I was a first grader. “See how sunken his eyes are?” she said. “And how non-responsive he is?” she pinched his wrist and Lucas did nothing but lie still like playing dead. “I’ve done hospice care for a long time, honey. This is the beginning of the end.” She went on to say he might have as much as a week, but that if we were lucky he’d slip away sooner than that. “Poor baby has suffered enough.” She told me they were doing something called palliative care. He had a catheter for his pee and a patch for pain relief and that was all. “Not much urine,” she said, showing me the bag. “And what there is, is dark in color. His body is shutting down.”
I didn’t bother to respond to her, but after she left I whispered in Lucas’s ear, “Don’t listen to her. You’re going to get better. We’ll show her.” Once he went into the coma, they stopped giving him food or water, but when they weren’t looking I dribbled water into his mouth and wiped a wet sponge over his parched lips. Screw Nancy and her wise proclamations. She didn’t know a thing about Lucas. After he made his miraculous recovery, I’d tell him all about Nancy—her ridiculous scrubs covered in cartoon panda bears, how she called everyone honey, and the way she always bustled in humming, acting like she knew it all.  
Because I had a few things up my sleeve that I hadn’t told anyone. Mainly that I was calling in outside forces. First of all, I’d been praying like no one on the face of planet Earth had ever prayed before. I’d never been one for prayer, but when things got serious I put it into overdrive, imagining God on the other end thinking, hmmm…Emma doesn’t usually pray. This must be serious. I could almost feel God making a plan for everything to work out just fine.
So that was the first thing.
The second thing I’d done was visit Mrs. Kokesh, two days earlier, right after school let out for summer vacation. She lived as far from the center of town as the Walkers did, but in the other direction. With my backpack strapped on, I rode my bike to her house. By the time I arrived I was out of breath, my legs like jelly.  Her two-story house was rambling and falling down, white paint peeling, porch sagging. Moss growing on the roof. The place was reportedly haunted. Mrs. Kokesh sold produce from a stand by the road during the growing season. Her vegetables were always ready before everyone else’s and bursting with color.
She also did magic, for a price. I’d heard the stories for years. Tales of dying pets brought to health. Love potions that really worked. A spell that ended a drought. But things backfired too, and if she didn’t agree with your motives, you might not get what she thought you needed instead of what you asked for, and some of it was pretty nasty. That was the story anyway. I didn’t know anyone who’d actually gone to her, but the stories, they went round and round. I saw her once at the gas station filling up her old Buick, and she just looked like an old lady to me, all hunched over and wearing lots of layers of clothing. It was her disguise, they said. She looked like a harmless old biddy, but really, she was very powerful.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Free, my favorite price...

Sometimes other writers ask how I feel about ebooks being made available for 99 cents or free. My answer? I think it’s great, under the right circumstances. I’d hate to see a world where all books are priced this way, but as it stands now it’s a valuable marketing tool, especially for older titles and series. In this economy, where people have limited entertainment dollars, it’s a terrific way for readers to sample an author’s work without breaking the bank.

When I first started out self-publishing in 2009, if a book became free, it was so rare that the message boards lit up with people spreading the word. I specifically remember that James Patterson’s first book in a series (Maximum Ride, I think) was free for quite some time and that book, and the following books in the series, rode to the top of the list and stayed there  for what seemed like forever. Smart guy, that Patterson.

That was then, this is now. Does free/99 cents still work for book promotion? In my experience, yes, but you have to get the word out. Just making a price change won’t do it.

Recently, my novel, Edgewood, the first in a three book series, was free for five days, ending May 1st.  Ads were taken out on three sites: BookBub, Awesome Gang, and Other sites noticed and picked up the promotion at no cost to me.  The end result? In five days, Edgewood was downloaded more than 33,000 times. In addition, the next two books in the series got a huge bump in sales, something that warmed my heart, because it meant that readers enjoyed the first book and wanted to continue reading.

By the end of the promotion, I’d more than made up the cost of advertising via the sales of books two and three. Better yet, I’d gotten several nice DMs and emails from readers who loved the books. And to top it off, all three books received new positive reviews. So you see, it’s not all about money, although I can’t think of any writer who would turn that down. It’s also about connecting with readers, which is priceless.

An added bonus to the surge in sales is that it has improved the books' ranking overall putting them higher on the category lists on Amazon, which increases their visibility. In theory, this promotion could continue to give the Edgewood series a boost days, weeks, or months from now.

Of course, some who downloaded the book may never get around to reading it, or, (and this pains me, but I have to be honest) will start reading, decide it’s not for them and delete it off their Kindle. I can live with that, because it goes hand in hand with giving other, more interested readers a chance to try my book for free.

This month, two of my older titles, A Scattered Life and Easily Amused, are being featured for 99 cents by my publisher, Amazon Publishing.  In another promotion, my kids’ book, the very charming (if I do say so myself) Celia and the Fairies, is $2.00 this month. 

Again, I’m gaining readers I'd never have otherwise. And these are books from 2010.  In the past, books that were three or four years old might be out of print, but now in the age of digital, they’re available forever. 

In the last five years, there have been drastic changes in the publishing world, especially in the way promotion is done. I’m a hybrid author with some books self-published and others published through Amazon Publishing, Brilliance Audio, and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. I've also had books translated into several different languages. I try to keep up with publishing news. I read the articles, the blogs, and the message boards on a daily basis, and still I feel like I have so much to learn.

One thing I’ve noticed is that authors today are very willing to share information with each other, something I love to see. A rising tide lifts all boats, as they say. 

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Writer Insomnia - It's a Real Thing

Writer insomnia. If you’re a writer, you’re probably familiar with it. Personally I find it easy to fall asleep, but hard to stay asleep. I often wake up in the middle of the night with my mind whirring with story ideas or lists of writing-related tasks. I’m tired but wide awake. Ack. Talk about aggravating.

I used to blame lack of exercise, which makes sense, somewhat. Writing is only a notch above watching television as far as energy expended. But I’ve noticed that other sedentary people sleep just fine. Not only that, but when I do have active days, I still have sleep interruptions. 

Another writer I know has a theory about this. Writers, he said, spend so much time in the equivalent of a dream state that our bodies think we've already slept a good many hours. So then, when we do sleep, it seems excessive. His idea sounds logical to me. Sometimes after a particularly fruitful writing session, I do feel like I've awoken from a dream.

Some time ago, a story idea came to me during one of my middle-of-the-night sessions. I saw it clearly in my mind. There was a guy, a teenager, who couldn’t sleep, so he began to go out walking after his parents had turned in for the night.

The story started out like this: I couldn’t believe it was happening again. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep. It was a Monday night; school started the next day at 7:20 a.m., and I was exhausted, but my body didn’t care. I shifted in bed and punched my pillow into different shapes, like that would help, even though it never did before.

I knew he would witness something amazing during one of his nighttime walks, and he did, but even I was surprised at how the plot unfolded. Turned out my main character, Russ Becker, saw a strange astronomical event and then later found out that he had superpowers. The book I eventually wrote is titled Edgewood and it is now book one in a three-book series. The books were big fun to write and I’m happy to say they’re getting great reviews.

So I can thank writer insomnia for the inspiration, and my subconscious for putting it into story form. Now when I wake up in the middle of the night, I don’t fight it. I just get up and make lists, read, or get some writing done.  Because you never know when the ideas keeping you awake might just turn into something more.