S.L. Viehl's Blog, page 11

The Whole Story

With the upcoming release of Disenchanted & Co. in French I've been getting some e-mails about when I might be returning to traditional publishing. Let me shed some light on the subject.

It took me four years to sell my last two traditionally-published novels. I had to leave the publisher I had worked with for fifteen years in order to get them published. Once I finally secured a contract, I also wrote a free promotional e-book, created a blog for the new series, solicited the cover quotations, took a booth at a national convention where I spent three days selling myself as well as the books, had countless giveaways, sent out review copies to anyone willing to read them, and did a (for me) huge amount of self-promotion in order make the new series a success.

I didn't resent any of it, as I think those books are among the best stories I've ever written. Shortly after the print publication of the second novel, however, I started to go blind. I did have to deal with that, which I think everyone can understand took priority over continuing the self-promotion.

When I finally recovered from two eye surgeries, my publisher indicated that sales of the books would not support any new releases in the series, and I was out of a job. I failed. I was finished.

That sounds like the end of the story, but for me it was just the beginning of a new one.

As I've always preached to you, I didn't give up. I went about finding a way to still work as a professional writer. It took some time, but eventually I succeeded. Three years later I'm employed full-time as a freelance ghost writer and copy writer. I've carefully built a list of terrific private clients who employ me regularly, treat me with respect, give me enormous creative freedom, and pay me quite well.

I'm really happy, too. I no longer have to deal with anything but the writing for the very first time since turning pro back in 1998. I realize now this is what I should have been doing all along, so it's actually a wonderful thing that I failed so miserably.

Some readers feel angry or frustrated with me for not doing more to deliver new books under my byline, and I'm sorry about that. I know many of you are supportive of my work, and for that I will always be grateful. If I ever publish under my byline again, it will be for you.

That said, I need to make a living, and (just like everyone else) I want to be happy in my work. That means writing stories and copy for my clients instead of my readers. So for now, I hope you will understand and be supportive of this new chapter in my writing life.

Marching On

Time gets away from us, doesn't it? When I'm working I hardly have any awareness of it, how much has elapsed, the hours I spend in my writing space, etc. On those occasions when I'm in the zone I forget time altogether. The dogs often have to remind me that it's the hour for our walk, or to start dinner (they get fed when we eat, but they always want theirs early) or even when I should be in bed instead of at the computer.

I've always been like this, which is why I have so many calendars and planners and such. Without them I'd be entirely clueless as to the date. It is Monday, right?

I have no idea what happened to February, but it's poofed, vanished, gone. Last time I checked the calendar it was February 24th. I woke up this morning and it's March 6th. I can tell you I spent the last week of February and the first week of March building, fine-tuning and mapping out a new universe for a client. At the same time I've been putting together my series notebook, ordering research books, and getting settled in for the long haul, writing-wise. In the process most of the personal stuff I had planned for February poofed on me, too.

Back in January I started working on a tote to take to the county quilt show and share some new ideas I had with my sewing sisters. I had basically a month to get it done, and I didn't. So I took the unfinished work to the show, and got teased for being overly-ambitious. Still shared my ideas, which was thing most important to me. I might start working on next year's show project as soon as I finish this one, though.

Despite the inexplicable time jump from February to March I got the important personal stuff done: the family and the dogs are cared for, the house is relatively clean, and the laundry is under control. I'm almost ready for the next visitor. Sometime today I need to go grocery shopping or we're having soup and sandwiches again, but other than restocking the pantry and the fridge, I'm good to go for March.

I used to beat myself up for not finishing things according to plan. Only when I realized that I will always plan more than I can actually do did I stop smacking myself over things undone.

Time marches on. Yesterday (and really, it seems like just yesterday) I brought my youngest home from the hospital after a nineteen-hour labor with a midwife supervising the delivery. This past week she flew to Washington DC for a science conference. On her own -- this because she's not a newborn; she's a grown woman. Between these two events in her life and mine there were twenty-three years, but from my POV it might as well be twenty-three minutes.

Time does not wait for you to notice it. It is a perpetual army of moments, indifferent to you and on the move forever. Our lives and our time here are finite, so make the most of yours.

WFH Op

Looking for ghost writer work? I spotted this op over in the paying markets forum at AbsoluteWrite.com:

"I'm looking for a ghostwriter, for a 30k words story, the payment is 0,025 USD per word. It should be satirical in nature and containing some fetish scenes. If interested, please write an email to: dirtysecrets@mailfence.com , with a short sample of your work."

As far as the info goes it's a little sparse. If that comma in the payment is supposed to be a decimal point, then the job pays $750.00, which is not bad. I'd e-mail first, confirm the rate and ask any questions you might have about the genre and details before you submit. Satire can be a lot of fun, but anyone who is uncomfortable with writing fetish material should probably skip this one.

Gerard

According to a family statement in comments at his blog, Gerard Vlemmings, the host of The Presurfer, passed away suddenly last Saturday, evidently from lung cancer.

Over the years here at PBW I frequently credited Gerard for the links I swiped from The Presurfer and his other site, The Generator Blog. I started reading his blog way back in 2003, and have visited The Presurfer almost daily ever since. He was not only hugely popular, but a terrific gentleman with a truly wry wit. Now and then I was able to contribute a lead to him for his blog to pay him back for all the interesting links he passed along to his readers.

I always counted on Gerard to be part of my morning. He never failed to deliver something interesting and thoughtful to my day. He was a genuine online treasure, and I will miss him more than I can express.

Safe journey, my friend.

Quilt Show Pics

I had an amazing time at this year's county quilt show. I saw so many beautiful quilts, talked with their incredibly talented makers, and got some wonderful ideas for my own work. Kat went with me one day so I got to show off my kid to my friends. I think I completely recharged my creative batteries too, always a great thing.

We also had fantastic luck with the show raffles. I won two: a huge basket filled with yarn and pattern books, and a adorable ceramic purse stuffed with fat quarters, sewing tools, and a journal:



My daughter was the big winner with this lovely wine rack filled with fabric, patterns and even two bottles of very nice vino:



It's also a little funny -- none of us drink -- but the bottles will go to friends who appreciate wine. Kat generously gave me all the fabric and patterns, so I'll have to make her something neat.

With fingers crossed that this slideshow embed code works, here are some of the pictures I took of the show quilts (Added: the embed thing isn't working for everyone, so here's the link to open it in another window: http://s259.photobucket.com/user/Lynn...

Off to the Quilt Show

I'm taking off today to hang with some of my quilter pals who are in town for my favorite county quilt show, where I invested in this for my daughter:



The Quilting Goddess smiled on me, too, as I won a door prize:



It's so cool -- I don't own a pin magnet, and I've never made a rag quilt. Free fabric, too.

I'll be back on Monday with pictures of the show -- until then, have a good weekend.

Kit in Paris

Last year I sold rights for my steampunk books to J'ai Lu for translation into French, and they very kindly sent me the art for the first two covers:



This is for the book one.



This is for My Lord Mayhem, a contract I negotiated by myself, so I'm especially delighted to see it's in my favorite color.

Art Space vs. Work Space

This past weekend my guy and I took on a monster spring cleaning project, which involved unloading everything from the kitchen, donating what we don't use to Goodwill, and scrubbing every inch of the cabinets and counters before reorganizing and putting everything back. I have a big kitchen, and after three decades of cooking for this man and our kids, way too much stuff. We made three trips to Goodwill yesterday and I've still got a pile of things to take over today.

I did pretty well, too. I got rid of two sets of old dishes, innumerable gadgets, old flower vases, pans, pots, and three small appliances. I wasn't sorry to see things like the 20-year-old blooming onion maker drop in the donation box (I haven't used it since the nineties.) At the same time, I couldn't let go of my daughter's Where's Waldo plastic cereal bowl, which I can guarantee you she will never use again. That bowl is for me and my memories of her in her high chair, dropping Cheerios for our dog Missy when she thought I wasn't watching.

Cooking is work, but it's also an art. When it comes to meal preparation, the kitchen is both work space and studio. Having a spotless, well-organized kitchen now will help me be a better and happier cook, which will result in more creative meals. Since I'll be cooking only for two starting this fall, I definitely need that, but it's also about respecting myself. I work every day in the kitchen, and it should be a space that allows me to do that comfortably and well.

Next on the spring cleaning list is my office, which I've let slide over the past couple of months because I've been so busy. I could let it wait until summer, or do it a little at a time, which is also perfectly acceptable. Thing is, I have some new, significant writing projects coming up on the schedule, and I need the office to be as clean, efficient and uncluttered as the kitchen is now.

Whether it's cooking or writing, I'm always happy to go to work. I'm not very conscious of my work space when I do. That said, I feel better when everything around me is tidy. I think I work better, too.

What's on your spring cleaning list for 2017? How are you going to tackle your projects? Let us know in comments.

Clarity

My guy and I both like lighthouses, so when we got the chance to go inside the St. Augustine Lighthouse and Maritime museum, we couldn't resist:



Signs all around the lighthouse property warned us that climbing the lighthouse's spiral staircase was the equivalent of walking up a fourteen-story building. I wasn't worried; while I'm not going to win any marathons my legs are pretty strong.

Looking up from the base of the lighthouse:



So we climbed. We took a few short breaks on the landings (I'm not so athletic that I can climb up 219 steps without stopping.) The staircase narrowed the higher we went, and we had to wait for people coming down the steps, but finally we made it to the top.

The view proved to be pretty spectacular:



There was a little window that allowed you to see inside the lighthouse's gigantic Fresnel lens, too:



And then there was the climb down, which was not half as tough as the climb up:



If you're ever in the area I highly recommend it as a terrific experience, especially for history lovers.

At the top of the lighthouse I experienced some extraordinary clarity, too. While everyone around me looked nervous, excited, and even a little intimidated, I felt right at home. My guy marveled at the small size of the room where the Lightkeeper worked to keep the beacon burning, but it looked right to me -- maybe because it was about the same size as my work desk. I also liked how hard it was to get to the top; you really had to want it to do all that work.

One lady mentioned how dull the Lightkeeper's job must have been, not to have any television or radio or things to do. I could see him sitting and reading by the light of the beacon, or writing letters, or simply watching the boats come into the harbor -- none of which seemed boring to me. If I had been born in 1888, I would have applied for the job.

I've always thought of retreating from the world into my work as going to my ivory tower -- the old chestnut most writers use -- but from now on I'll think of it as manning my lighthouse.

Wishing You