A new post? Oh my shit, Renee, you just posted yesterday. Another one already? Yes, I’m currently unable to do major housework, too sore and tired to do much more than walk across the room and sit so I figured, why not entertain the masses with my always fascinating rambling blog posts?
So what’s on my mind today? Lots of stuff. Pull up a seat. No, not that one. It’s um…stained. Yeah, you don’t want to get any on you. Thanks. No, that chair is fine. Relax. Have some Doritos.
Everyone is gearing up for NaNo and it seems that’s all I read anymore. NaNo this, NaNo that, and OMG! I’m so excited for NaNo. I admire the devotion folks, really I do and I’m not in a position to criticize because I get really excited and talk about things obsessively too. I’ve also never attempted NaNo and to be honest, the idea of 50K words in a month, although I have done it, scares the shit out of me. It’s not the writing, I write every day, it’s the commitment to write so many words no matter what and I’d hate to commit to such a thing and fail. Gasp! Failure makes me nauseous. So I’ve never done it. But can I ask you all please, PLEASE, PLLLEEEAASSSEEE, don’t consider your NaNo novel ready for publication. Please don’t bombard agents and publishers with it on December 1st because honestly, and I’m saying this as a friend, it is NOT ready for publication on December 1st. You have a rough draft. Polish it, then send it. Hell, any friends of mine who are participating, I’ll beta read for you if you promise not to submit the day you’re done.
Why do I ask this? Because you’re clogging up the lines people. Agents and publishers get bombarded after NaNo is over with manuscripts that aren’t even close to ready for publication. This means that they have ten times (or more) their regular emails to get through and by the time they get to those of us who have polished our manuscripts their eyes are crossed and they’re cranky and really, I need all the help I can get. Cranky agents aren’t what I need. Okay, that said, good luck. I hope you kick NaNo’s ass and write 100K words.
Next on my mind: Querying. I am currently querying three projects. Paranormal, mainstream and a little romantic thriller that I’m really excited about. I mean, I squeal every time I think about the finished product. That excited. Why am I querying 3? I finished one and began the process, and I’ve been rejected several times. Yes, I’ve counted, and no, I’d rather not share the exact number. While I queried, I finished another manuscript. It’s damn good. I promise. So, I began querying that one too. I’ve received a few rejections. 6 to be exact. I don’t know what the other agents are doing, but so far they haven’t rejected it. Fingers crossed. While querying that one, I finished a third novel. THE novel. My BEST writing I think. I started querying it today. So far so good. Of course, it usually takes about 24 hours for the rejections to roll in and it is Saturday, so it’s unlikely they’ll begin until Monday.
Now, I have three more that need polishing. Beta readers? Oh yes, I need them. I have a dark humor mainstream novel, a historical (sort of) thriller, and a commercial fiction novel that I’m not really sure yet where it falls in terms of genre. One is set in a fictional US town, the next in 18th-19th Century New Orleans and the last in Northern Canada. I get around. Yes, I do.
So the super exciting manuscript I just finished? Want a taste? I like to share, you know that. So, um…let’s see. Oh, here’s a good section: (there will be profanity)
Wade sighed at the crash, but smiled as he pictured Kristina tripping over her feet again. He stood and walked out of the office into the bar. As he emerged, his gaze found the reason for the noise. In a rage, he strode toward the table near the bar.
“You stupid bitch,” Sam Thompson yelled.
Kristina sat in a heap on the floor, her shirt soaked and her eyes wide. She flinched as Sam raised his fist.
“What the hell is going on here?” Wade kept his voice low and even.
“She spilled that tray—”
Sam paused, his face reddened and he opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Wade turned to Kristina. “What happened?”
“He g-grabbed me and I told him I’d come back, then he put his hand in my pants and I forgot about the tray. I didn’t mean to spill it.” Kristina’s voice trembled forcing a lump to Wade’s throat.
Wade held out his hand.
She took it and stood.
He squeezed it reassuringly, relieved to see color flood her cheeks again. “Go get a clean shirt. It’s okay, you did nothing wrong. Come on Sam, you and I need to have words.”
He grabbed Sam by the collar; the fool proved wise enough not to struggle. Wade half-dragged him out the door and around the building to the dumpsters. When they were out of site, he threw him against the brick wall of the building. Wade’s shirt clung to his back. The night was still humid and the small effort it took to drag Sam outside had him sweating. “Who do you think you are coming into my bar and treating my staff like that?”
“I didn’t know—”
Wade swung, his fist connecting with Sam’s nose.
A sickening crack and Sam fell to his knees. “Fuck, Wade.”
Wade allowed him to regain his footing. Blood covered Sam’s chin and the front of his white polo shirt. “You think you can just treat women like garbage?”
“Fuck you. You’re nothing without your biker friends. I’m not scared of you.” Sam spat, bringing his arms up.
Wade stepped forward. “Really? Let’s see about that.”
Kristina stood at the sink behind the bar rinsing the towels she used to clean up her mess. The door opened and she looked up. Wade strolled in alone. Was that blood on his hands? He walked to the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later, his hands clean and his shirt tucked in once more.
Coming around the bar, he paused behind her. Kristina shivered as the warmth of his breath reached the back of her neck. “Don’t worry, he won’t be back. No one touches you in here. You better tell me next time you have a problem. Before it comes to that.”
Kristina dropped the damp towel and turned to face him. She paused startled at the force of his gaze, his eyes so dark they appeared almost black. “I can’t do this Wade. I’m sorry, but I’m going to see if I can get my job back at Mac’s.”
“What? No. You’re not.”
“I am. I can’t do this and I keep screwing things up. I’m just not cut out for this place.”
“The customers love you, although a bit too much sometimes. You take home more in tips than anyone I’ve seen yet.” Wade reached out and brushed her bangs from her eyes, his gaze softened and he smiled. “You’re our comic relief. What am I going to do without you here? I can’t spill the drinks myself.”
“Funny.” Kristina looked at her hands, noticing for the first time that she still wore her wedding rings. She covered her left hand with her right. “Seriously, Wade, why would you keep someone who is terrible at this job?”
He sighed, glancing at her hands. He frowned and shook his head, then looked at her with a crooked grin. “You aren’t terrible. Your drink to table to floor ratio is improving. Don’t let one bad incident make you give up. That’s not the girl I remember.”
Kristina stared at him, trying not to laugh. He was right. She had improved. A bit. But the fear that man forced to the surface made her remember Daniel and all she wanted to run away from. She hated that she could go back to a spineless coward so easily.
“I guess if I quit then guys like him win.”
Wade put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Exactly, and I will never let that happen again. So? You’ll stick it out? I’d hate to have to drag you in here kicking and screaming every night. It’s bad for business.”
“I guess so, as long as you can afford the damage.”
“For you, I’d pay any amount.” Wade grinned and walked toward the office.
That’s all folks. What do you think? Oh, you’re still seething about the NaNo rant aren’t you? So my ploy to distract you from it didn’t work. Well, I didn’t think it would. Please, I love comments.