She Taught Me Everything
Wrote it. Now for the next part.
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How about a proper introduction to this novel?  Here's the pitch:
She Taught Me Everything When 26-year-old Nicola Jones gets that phone call in the middle of the night––the one she's been dreading her whole life––she doesn't stop to ask questions. What else does she need to know? Her charismatic older sister Viv has been in a car crash. She packs a bag and races to her sister's hospital bedside. Until then, she would have said she and Viv were as close as––well, as close as sisters. Once in Nashville, however, Nicola discovers that Viv has been concealing one terrible secret after another. With her own life on hold as she waits for Viv to wake, Nicola must delve into the mystery of their shared past and decide what their future will be. She Taught Me Everything is a story about sisters and secrets, and about the choices we make that shape a family.
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In the strictest of honesty, the accompanying photo is actually where I might write, but only when it's above 45 and not pouring rain. Which, as many know, is uncommon conditions for the Would-Be Farm in springtime.  But who cares about the weather outside? I have a heavily notated Word document to peruse.
I hired an editor. Oh, believe me, I know the irony. Having made a living editing the idea that it's taken years for me to pay someone for this service? Oy. I've thought idly about what metaphor might illustrate my giddy joy at having someone read the novel so closely, with such candor and insight. Is it like giving yourself over to a really good massage? One that might hurt a little, but that will leave you better off? Or is it like having the undivided attention of a professor you really admire when that professor is in a generous mood to discuss you and your marvelous ideas? Erm, I'm going to go with massage. Some strong-fingered person who's really good and can find pockets of soreness that need to be worked away. Anyhow, I'm less than a third of the way through her suggested edits. I don't know if it's relief at having direction or sheer vanity at getting someone's lavish attention, but I'm bubbling with happiness. Granted, I may indeed need an actual massage at the end of these long days at my computer screen, but perhaps that too is part of the new publishing world. I wrote a novel a while back. It's a thing. I'm writing an additional two more, though I've been feeling a sense of a cork in the bottleneck...  But having written the living bejeebers out of that first novel, and hooking up with a dang high-powered literary agent (in Manhattan! Squee!), and the agent not working out for me (in super slo-mo! actual years passed!), and fully exploring the advice of so many writers before me (Keep trying! Never surrender!), 2023 seems like the time to take a different route.  Independent publishing. AKA self-publishing. These days, publishing my own dang book means I need to relearn the business of publishing and more or less form my own publishing house. And my own public relations strategy. Et cetera. So after waiting waiting waiting, I am angling my toes into the the starting blocks and getting ready to get ready to go. But first, a timeline. Chicken, meet a dozen eggs.  Here are some of the administrative bits and bobs I have to put in order and execute:
 And heeeer we go, she said, with an uneasy giggle.
Those of you sweet readers who are still with me, thanks! I can't tell you how cheering it is to know you're out there interested in my stacks of words. Hope to brag some good news soon. I'm thinking late summer/autumn 2023 to bring this novel to market. If you have advice, don't hesitate to drop me a line. There's so much to learn about all this... |
