Rebecca Connolly's Blog, page 2

Breathe

There is so much ugly and scary right now.

I’m an emotional sponge, so taking all of this in has been hard for my soul. I cannot imagine how much more difficult it is in so many regards for an even greater number of people more directly involved.

I can’t do much, but I thought today I could give you some beauty to look at while you take a moment to breathe.

Take as long as you like.

Hope it helped.

Hang in there, friends.

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Vibes

Not much to say today. Life is chugging along, and work is picking up. So really this is all I’ve got:

Good vibes for a good day. Step it up with a smile!

Or wear a mask. No one will know if your smile is fake. It’s all about the effort, right?

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What I’d Like to Say…

There is something that no one tells you before you become an author, but once you’ve been one, you understand this on a deep and special level.

People are mean.

You weren’t expecting that, were you?

The truth is, they don’t tell you how sensitive you are going to be about your book. Your blood, sweat, tears, stress, and loads of calories you didn’t need have gone into the creation of this book. These characters are your children. These plots have ruined your sleep and distracted your day. The details with the book’s formatting, editing, release, and reception make you queasy on the regular.

The book is you, basically. Each book is a piece of yourself, and every single review you see eats away at that particular piece.

But it also chips at the whole of you.

No one tells you that.

I personally learned very early on not to read reviews for this reason. It’s not good for me, and other authors feel the same. Why? Because the good reviews, while heartwarming, don’t stand a chance against the bad ones.

Those gut you.

So I don’t read them. I don’t need the negativity, and I like ignorance in this regard.

But sometimes the reviews sneak through.

One came through an email from my website once. I didn’t know that was what it was going to be, I thought it would be another fun message asking with another book was coming or some such. I had no idea it would tear my recent release to shreds. That the reader would completely misconstrue everything that I had meant in my writing. That they would see the actions of my characters as selfish, base, and completely out of character for them.

I didn’t look for this. It came directly to me. She WANTED me to see it.

I thought my body would suddenly take on all of the gravity in the world and drop me through the couch, the floor, and all of the apartments below me. I have never felt that way, and I’m not sure there are words to describe what it was. Horror, fear, panic, agony, sadness, grief, nausea, … so many more words, and none of them quite work. It was all of them and more, and I went into a full-blown panic attack.

I’ve been careful since then, but every now and then I get a glimpse. Sometimes the bad ones are funny. Sometimes they don’t bother me.

Today one got to me. All I did was check if the rankings had been updated, and the top review was a doozy.

This person TORE ME UP in the review. Accused me of not doing any research, because how DARE I get something wrong in their eyes! Criticized which characters appeared and which did not. Found every single fault possible in their view, down to minute details that have zero significance to canon.

On the one hand, such a passionate review means I have an invested reader here, so WOOHOO! On the other hand, why? Why tell anyone considering this book that it has X amount of mistakes, that it isn’t what it could have been, that I’m an amateur who thinks other works of fiction are sufficient research, and on and on and on? What good does that do?

Newsflash: None. It doesn’t do a darn bit of good. If there was constructive criticism in it, that’s one thing. This was a good, old-fashioned rant.

And it was wrong, too.

I research endlessly. I look up everything that I doubt, and I doubt a lot. I am well aware that Regency readers catch everything and will hound a book to its death, which makes me wonder why I write in the time period at all. I know what I’m talking about because I’ve studied. I’ve taken classes. I’ve read accurate resources.

And sometimes I’m still not perfect. I’ll get a title wrong. I’ll miss a continuity error. I’ll miss an etymology error.

I’ll make a mistake.

Sorry.

Taste is something I cannot, and will not, judge. Opinions are allowed and they are valid.

If these two reviews I’ve mentioned were just opinions and taste, I wouldn’t talk about them. It’s the insinuations about me that are not okay. It’s the accusations of how I work and how I write that are not okay.

But I’m supposed to be a professional, be respectful, and not give into the temptation to reply. Probably shouldn’t even write this, if we’re honest. It won’t do any good, it could damage my reputation, and it will probably fill me with guilt.

(I have a hyperactive guilt drive. That’s not the official name, but it’s good enough. This blogpost may wind up disappearing from existence in three hours, no joke.)

It’s hard not to reply to hurt like this. Not to defend myself. Not to explain how tired I am, how stressful this was, how imperfect I know I am, and how hard I work to even do this. Not to tell them that I don’t need their help to feel like a fraud who is one step away from complete failure.

I’m not distraught over today’s finding. No panic attacks. No tears. Not going to eat me up, and I’ll sleep just fine tonight. I’ll write another book, and hopefully there will be fewer perceived offenses for this reviewer next time. Maybe there will be more, who knows?

But authors need reviews. Not only that, we need reviews that span the stardom. (See what I did there?) We need the good reviews, and we need those stinky bad ones. It gives our book legitimacy to those considering it, and helps our cause that not everybody loves it.

I get that. All authors do. Every one of us has an awful review story or three, ask us. I’m not special in this. It’s part of our deal, like it or not.

But what we want to know is this: do reviewers have to hate it so loudly?

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Finalist

Last week, Hitching the Pitcher was a finalist for a big award. It was amazing to be a finalist, and I’m not just saying that because we didn’t win.

I don’t normally do well in award arenas where voting is involved. I’ve almost never finaled, and even more rarely won.

It’s a good thing I don’t write for awards, right?

But now, we’ve finaled for ANOTHER award with ANOTHER book!

This week, we have the opportunity to get our book, Faceoff, into the next round of finalists for a RONE award! We need votes, though, and that’s where y’all come in.

Here’s the link, and you’ll need to create a free account to vote. It’s worth it, because InD’Tale is amazing, and so is InD’Scribe. We love them, and we would seriously love to move on and have a better chance of winning!

Awards aren’t everything. But every now and again, a little reward for hard work goes a long way…

Help us out! Get us there!

LET’S GO!!!!!

And if you haven’t read Faceoff yet, maybe do that, too.

I think you’ll like it.

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A Slight Alteration

That’s the understatement of pretty much forever.

As many of you noticed, What a Spinster Wants was released yesterday.
Technically.

It didn’t actually do much of anything yesterday except grace the walls of Amazon when you searched for it.

There are reasons for this, none of which I have control over. I’m not actually sure what these reasons are because everybody that publisher and I talk to says something different, but the ironically unifying theme is that it is NOT their fault. It’s someone else’s.

Clearly.

Amazon blames the distributor, the publisher, COVID, and probably your mom. Barnes and Noble is shockingly lovely and has no problems whatsoever with my paperback sitting there. The distributor blames COVID, Amazon, COVID again, and probably my mom. My publisher has probably lost his marbles, his temper, his dignity, and maybe even HIS mother fighting with both because he’s done his job x 100,000 and nobody else can figure theirs out.

And then there’s me. Amazon pats me on the head and says “It’s your distributor. Or the publisher. Or this thing called COVID, if you know what that is. Talk to them, and maybe they can fix it.”

I don’t like being patronized…

All joking aside, and all mothers potentially involved, the paperback is temporarily out of stock on Amazon for no good reason. The eBook is not available anywhere for no good reason. I have no idea when this will be fixed because there’s no good reason for any of this.

So there’s that.

I’m so sorry about this. If there was anything I truly had power to do, I would do it. The good news is that when the book IS really released, you’ll all get notified. And we’re planning a great big release party.

Might even get a few Scottish people around in honor of Edith.

On an unrelated note, does anyone know any Scottish people?

Stay strong, friends. We’ll get through this.

There’s always Diet Coke…

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April Fool’s

I wish. I wish this was an April Fool’s joke.

I wish it didn’t look like a war zone in the grocery store.

I wish I could drive to my sister’s house and not ask permission to pick up her kids and kiss them all over their sweet faces.

I wish I wasn’t checking the news websites multiple times a day to see what has changed and how bad it’s getting.

I wish I wasn’t reading every email at work to see if our restrictions have changed.

I wish I didn’t feel like I was wasting time at work when I should be grateful to still be working.

I wish I wasn’t so affected by this.

I wish…

I wish I wasn’t April’s fool.

But wishing doesn’t do much, and there isn’t anything to do but keep going. This will end one day, and we will all recover. It’s okay to feel the weight of it, and it’s okay to hate it.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

Sorry if you needed a happy boost… This won’t be it.

But maybe tomorrow there will be a happy boost.

Maybe tomorrow the sun will shine brightly.

Maybe tomorrow there will be cookies.

Whatever dose of happy comes, maybe it will come to me.

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Dose of Reality

I am a writer. This is my passion and my heart. It’s what I do in my free time and it’s what I do when I should be doing other things. It is the most joyous thing I do in my life and also the most stressful. It is my dream come true.

So many of my fellow authors are posting encouraging things about using this time of self-isolation, quarantine, and social distancing as an opportunity to get some writing done or to share more with their fans or to do some extra promotion. I am so happy for them! What a great thing to do when our schedules are disrupted like this! How lucky are their readers???

I’ve also struggled with the amount of those posts I see. Negative Nan comes out and plays with Jealous Jessie for a few minutes each time.

Here’s why:

I also work in medicine. It is what I went to school for (twice) and what my degrees and certifications are in. It has been my career for over a decade and will continue to be so for the foreseeable future. I am good at it and it has been good to me.

But because of that, I don’t get to self-isolate to protect myself and use the time to be productive on my WIP. Instead I’m calling and explaining to patients why we can’t do their scheduled surgeries and can’t promise a new date yet. I’m asking elderly patients to not risk coming to their scheduled appointments even though I know they are in pain.

I’m watching my inbox for the next hospital policy, wondering if I’ll be asked to help out with the COVID19 screenings. I’m wondering if they are going to shut down non-emergent specialty offices, and how I’m going to get paid if they do. I’m praying the next case detected in my state isn’t at my hospital.

I’m crossing my fingers that every patient I come in contact with is as healthy as they claim to be. I’m screening patients over the phone and having to tell people in pain they can’t come in because of their symptoms.

I’m trying my best to help my patients and take care of myself while still hoping I can make my writing deadlines. I’m trying to release the stress of the day when I get home every night so that my mind is clear to do what I love.

Because writing right now is hard.

I’m not saying any of this for sympathy. Everyone has concerns and fears right now, everything is scary and the unknown is worse. We’re all making adjustments and trying to live our lives in the safest way we can.

This is just my story right now. My life. My experience.

I’ll make it through. You will too. We all will.

And it’s okay that this is hard.

Promise.

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Slacker

I’m sure no one is surprised by the fact that I am a slacker. I am totally lazy and a complete slacker and I can’t seem to maintain a blog in the midst of everything else.

Sorry…

So maybe I need to set more realistic expectations and goals. Maybe you can help.

What do you want me to say and how often do you want me to say it?

Let me know. When I check back in six months, I’ll think about it.

Just kidding.

It’ll be 2 months….

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Retreat

Hey y’all!

It’s been a minute… Sorry about that. I could blame the holidays and stress and all that, but I can’t chalk it all up to that. A lot of it was just me…

New year, time for new goals.

But first… I took a trip. Or I am taking a trip. I’m on a trip.

It’s a retreat. I’m hanging out with two of my favorite pals in the warmth (sort of) of Texas. It was supposed to be way warmer than what I was experiencing at home, and it still is, since the temperature at home dropped to like 13 degrees the other day.

It’s 54 degrees and raining outside right now in Texas. (Not ALL of Texas, but where I am… You get it.) It is so cold for a place that was supposed to be so warm.

But you know what? I love this. I love being away and being warmer than freezing and not having to worry about my regular stresses of life. And we have some fun things planned and to plot and all that. It’s going to be glorious.

I needed a retreat. It’s going to be amazing.

See you all on the flip side!

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Hit the Ice

There’s a double meaning in that…

It’s freezing here. I mean actually freezing. It was a whopping 13 degrees outside on my drive to work. And my car slid like crazy on the sheet of ice in my neighborhood. Not okay, November.

But something else hit the ice recently, besides my tires and (potentially) my backside. I’ll give you a hint.

Heeheehee

IT’S HERE!!!

The Northbrook Hockey Elite hit the ice yesterday, and these boys are FANTASTIC.

I’m biased, I know.

I adore this book so much, and I hope you do too. Live reading of chapter 2 tonight by Heather Moore on our Swoony Sports Romances page.

Get your copy of FACEOFF. Read it. Love it. Review it. Share it.

Become a hockey fan with us. It’s fabulous.

Even if it is on the ice.

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