Julie Wright's Blog, page 6

Release Dates Pushed Back

So my editor wrote to me last week to let me know that I've had some push back on release dates for next year's line-up. Olivia–the first book in the Newport Ladies Book Club Series won't be out until February instead of January, and Hazzardous Universe–The Magician's Last Words won't be out until March. Each got pushed a month. I think it's cute that my editor for Olivia wrote with an almost apologetic tone as though she worried I'd be unhappy or something. I am not at all unhappy.

The push back was because they wanted to get the cover right and it's taking longer. I am *so* okay with that. I would much rather wait a month and get a superb cover than be early and not really ready to be marketed. People say not to judge a book by its cover, but we all do, and I want my cover, and the rest of the covers in this series, to be right. And yesterday the girls I'm writing the Newport series with and I received a sneak peek into our covers and they are so dang ADORABLE! Worth the wait! I'm excited to unveil them to you. They are bright and shiny and as Heather Moore stated, they make you want to visit Newport and relax with a good book on the beach.

In the mean time, I am writing a new book! And it has been fun! I love starting something new. I mentioned elsewhere that beginning the writing on a new book was like that long luxurious stretch first thing in the morning. It just feels good.

I'm doing nanowrimo for the first time ever and it's been a nice motivation. But I spent the last several days going over Galleys, so no new writing has been accomplished. Next week it'll be back to work! Be on the look out Olivia's cover will be posted as soon as I get greenlighted to share.

World Fantasy 2011

He's blurry but adorable!

Now that Dan Wells and Larry Correia have outed me on Twitter as someone who's willing to play role playing games, I might as well confess that the carpool requirement down to World Fantasy was actually really fun. My character in the Warhammer Universe was Magland the Rat Catcher. I had a dog named Stink-Eye. And my cohorts were Veppar (played by Larry in a Boris and Natasha Russian accent for the entire drive to and from California) and Captain Starfire–who is not a unicorn no matter what Jessica Day George says(played by Steve Diamond). Dan was the game master, and I honestly laughed so hard in places I had tears running down my face. It really does pain me to admit how much fun role playing can be.

I actually took notes at World Fantasy in some of the panels because some great information was shared, but that'll all be in a different post. What I want to say now is (girl scream) I met Neil Gaiman (another girl scream)!  And he told me he loved my hair! eek! He is adorable, and I showed great restraint in not proposing to him. But more than adorable, he gave such great information. I learned new things and felt motivated again. It was a good experience. I also got to spend some time with Guy Gavriel Kay and may I just say, that man is charming and sweet and sincere and good, and he is one amazing writer! If you haven't read Under Heaven,  what are you waiting for? I roomed with Jessica Day George and her sister Jennifer and had a really good time with them. They are some of the funniest people I know. Our room looked like something out of a Disney fairytale with curtains hanging over the head board and all the woodwork in the room etched and scrolled like pieces of art posing as furniture. It was nice to see Lee Modesitt and his daughter Catherine again and get to go to lunch with them. I know I say this all the time, but there is something truly awesome about the friendships in the literary world. These are my people. They're all smarter than I am and much better read, but they remain my people. It's part of the reason that I keep writing. I must have the excuse to be where they are, doing whatever it is that they're doing.

It was an awesome convention and I walked all over this labyrinth resort–miles and miles it felt like and got along quite well on my busted knee. I even managed the car ride without too much difficulty because Larry was good to stop often enough that I could stretch it out. I was feeling quite capable and awesome about how well I'd managed this new little blip in my life only to come home and lose the fight to a snowstorm. Wood stairs + wet snow = one twisted leg and screaming in a snow bank. Awesome . . . or something like that. I'm on the mend AGAIN. It's my own fault for not being careful, but I'd grown used to the knee and could walk without a limp most of the time. I almost didn't even remember that the knee had a problem until people pointed out the brace and asked what happened.  I'm sure it'll be okay, but it's been frustrating.

I am doing nanowrimo this year so if anyone wants to buddy me my name is julie Wright and yes I did fail to cap the j because I am cool like that.

Jessica and Neil

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My Not So Fairy Tale Life

My Not So Fairy Tale Life is now available on Kindle!

My Not So Fairy Tale Life on Kindle!

and on Nook!

My Not So Fairy Tale Life on Nook!

My Not So Fairy Tale Life is probably the first "good" book I've written. My first two books were rough because I hadn't had enough experience writing to make them anything else. They were naive, and a bit embarrassing. I've received my rights back from the publisher to those first two books. I am sooooooo grateful to have those books out of print.

I hated to hear when people would tell me when they'd read one of those first two books. I had to refrain from offering them a refund and apologizing while at the same time assuring them I really have grown as an author, and my current writing reflects that growth. I never apologized for my third book, My Not So Fairy Tale Life.

But when it went out of print and I received my rights back on it and decided to do a little bit of a touch up on it, my cheeks burned. There was a lot there that gave me cringing pangs. Again, it was a little naive, a little overly idealistic. As I went through the manuscript, I rolled my eyes at several cheesy things in the book. But then half way through, I realized I WOULD NOT have ever written some of those weird things. So I checked the version from my publisher against the original draft I still had on my hard drive. And realized I HAD NOT written those cheesy little scenes or overly cutesy dialogue. My editor had, apparently, taken great liberty with my manuscript. I remembered getting the edit and him saying, "Don't compare with your old manuscript; just read it for flow." Being an obedient little author, I did exactly that. I did notice some of the changes in spite of not checking against my original manuscript. He had changed a full ten pages where he'd taken out my scene and replaced it with something he'd written. I slapped STET on that one and rewrote the scene a third time. He later told one of my friends that I simply didn't understand that he got to write a scene in every book he edited.

O . . . kay.

I was so annoyed with the ten pages changed, I failed to notice the little things. But I noticed them this time around, and happily, they're changed. That's the beauty of getting my rights back; I was able to make changes that needed to be made. I was able to correct the spelling to Jane Austen's name and tone down the cheesiness. It was a liberating exercise. I am truly grateful for my current editors  who never put me in positions like that. I'm fine with editors telling me to fix problems–that's what I hope they'll do, but it's weird for entire scenes to be rewritten.

And now the book is out there on its own. I'm excited to see what will happen with it. I have several books available on Kindle through my publisher, but this is the first time I have a title available that belongs to me alone. It's a fun new adventure!

AND . . . because I have the rights back to everything except the design, My Not So Fairy Tale Life has a classy new wrapper.  I really love the new cover. Go over and see for yourself!

A New Book and Learning How to Walk Again

So . . . several weeks ago, I went to the park in St. George with my kids. My kids call it the spinning park. I call it Satan's playground.

I snapped the ACl in my left knee in half and tore the meniscus while playing at Satan's playground. What could I have done to snap my ACL in half? Excellent question. What happened was I forgot I was nearly forty years old.

Don't worry; I remember now.

I jumped off a spinning platform. You know that Newton guy and his three basic laws of motion?

I hate that guy. He was totally right. An object in motion DOES, in fact, want to stay in motion.  My body was spinning to the left. I jumped out straight and landed straight so my feet and lower legs were no longer moving in spite of the fact that the rest of body was still in state of spin.

That was when pain unprecedented started.

I said a zillion swear words and screamed bloody murder in a park full of children. Actually I only said one swear word, I just said it a zillion times. I'm awesome like that. I apologized to the kids after, but the damage to their eardrums and fragile psyches was done. Much like my knee, that damage cannot be undone.

So I went to meet with the surgeon, found out how much surgery to get a replacement ACL would cost, and decided I might just want to see if I can live with this. Holy finances Batman! And not just the finances, but the rehabilitation to get the knee back to work after the surgery sounds horrendous, and I'm just not up to any more pain. Plus, I really hate the way your brain fogs and swirls away when you're going under anesthetics. I may be a crazy writer, but I hate feeling like I've lost control of my mind. No surgery for me–at least not until I am sure that's the best option.

Now, I'm working my knee out and re-learning how to walk. Stairs are a little precarious still, but I went hiking on crutches the other day, so life is almost back to normal. If you can still hike, you can do anything

In other news . . . A couple of years ago Josi Kilpack and I went on a western US book tour together. Not only did we have a blast, and not only did I learn that Josi is an amazing person to put up with me the way she did, but we had a conversation about how much we wished we could have Heather Moore and Annette Lyon with us. From there, Josi came up with the brainchild of all four of us writing a book series together.

We met the ladies for lunch when we got home and pitched the idea to them. We were all on board. And that was the birthplace of the Newport Ladies Book Club. We each wrote from the viewpoint of a different character so in each of the books, you'll get some of that character's story, but only by reading all four books will you get the full picture or find out the endings to the other character's stories. It was great fun to write the books–to get together and discuss the characters, and great fun to read the finished products, because each story is so unique and interesting.

Last week we received news that the series has been accepted by our publishers, and we are now looking forward to the release of the series! My character's name (and consequently the book title) is Olivia, and I really loved writing her story. but more than that, I loved coming together with these three other women and creating something new. It was a testament to me about how friendships are so important, and how we, as women, all have so much to bring to the table and offer each other. Another thing that struck me is how often people influence our lives and yet have no idea they've had any impact at all.  There are many women who have been there for me through the years–women who likely don't know how their few kind words saved me in moments of despair. How I want to say thank you:

To the grandmother who stayed on the phone with me when I was scared late at night and my folks weren't home yet.

To the mom who drove me on my paper route when it was cold.

To the woman who called me one day and invited me to church even though she'd never met me before and I was just a name on a roll sheet, and in that one moment changed my entire future.

To the girls who got me through the teenage years and as women are helping me get through the old lady years.

To the countless strangers who complimented my hair, or clothes, or worked to make me feel comfortable when I was feeling dowdy, ugly, and out of place.

To the online people who have never even met me and yet who encourage me with their words.

To the lady in the hospital who was unlucky enough to get in the elevator with me when I felt like my life was falling apart, who told me to take the moment to cry out whatever was hurting me so much, but then to move on because life was beautiful if I would only be willing to look at it.

To those blogs I visit online when I just need to laugh because their outlook on everything is awesome.

To the women in my town who showed up en masse on a day where everything else went wrong.

To my sisters of both the natural and in-law variety who love me even when I'm absurd, who make me laugh, and let me cry, and who care so very much.

To my daughter who reminds me of all the beautiful potential in the world.

To the women at Covenant and all the authors who encourage me, inspire me, and stand by me as a writer.

To the three women who were willing to let me write a series with them.

To all those women, THANK YOU!

It's amazing to me how much we need each other–to support one another, to bear up each other's burdens, and to simply be kind to one another. it's amazing to me how often I witness women stepping up to the plate to do what is needed–to hug when needed, to kiss better when needed, and to love everywhere.

Author Tristi Pinkston is excited to announce the release...

Author Tristi Pinkston is excited to announce the release of the third novel in her Secret Sisters Mysteries series.

Titled Hang 'em High , this novel takes place on a dude ranch in Montana. When Ida Mae's son invites her to come for a visit, of course she brings Arlette and Tansy along with her. They are expecting to spend the week looking at horses, avoiding the cows, and making amends in Ida Mae's relationship with her son. What they don't expect is to be stuck on the ranch in the middle of a blizzard and to be thrust headlong into the middle of a mystery.
***

 

Help Tristi celebrate her new novel in two ways. First, come participate in the two-week-long blog contest, where you can win a book nearly every single day! All the details are up on Tristi's blog.

 Second, come to the book launch!

You are invited to an

August Authorama!

Saturday, August 13th

Pioneer Book, 858 S. State, Orem

12 – 4 pm

 

Games, prizes, balloons, face painting,

and Dutch oven cobbler

prepared by world champion cook

Keith Fisher.

 

Authors Tristi Pinkston, J. Lloyd Morgan, Cindy Hogan,

Nichole Giles, and Heather Justesen

will all be there to sign books.

 

This is one book launch event

you will not want to miss!

Sixteen Years

My little girl turns sixteen years old today. I had several years where I didn't think I could have children at all, then one day I was in a car accident and the doctor insisted on a pregnancy test before the X-Rays. I was angry he suggested the test. It felt like salt in the wound of infertility. At that point, mother's day felt like blasphemy, Ihated pregnant women in general, and I had strange desires to spray paint graffiti on the walls of Babies-R-Us.

The doctor came back to the room I occupied. He looked pale and worried. I'd been so waspish when he insisted on the pregnancy test, and now he had news for me. "Do you want to have a baby?" he asked slowly.

I'd straightened and felt sick with hope and desire. Mr. Wright had also straightened–both of us on edge for whatever this man might tell us. "Yes." My response was careful. Please, oh please, oh please.

The doctor relaxed immediately, smiled wide, and wished a hearty congratulations. Who cared about the pains of having been totally slammed into by another car? I was going to be a mom!

And now she's sixteen. She is the exact age I was when I looked at Mr. Wright and thought . . . you know, I could actually marry this guy. All of my major decisions in my life were made by the time I was sixteen (which totally freaks me out about her now being that age). I felt so grown up, so capable. And then all those years later I found myself carrying a chubby, pinkish baby into my home. All feelings of capability fled that first night having her home. Mr Wright and I stared at each other. Now that we had her, what did we do with her?

Here are sixteen things I've learned in my journey through motherhood:

Keep your word. I have favorite idle threats–like insisting I'm going to  rip out their tongues if they can't speak nicely to each other, or that I'm going to sell them on eBay. Naturally I'm not going to sell them on ebay because it's illegal, and I'm pretty sure ripping out tongues might be illegal as well–though I haven't checked into it. But aside from the joking idle threats, unless something falls out of my control, I always keep my word. If you tell them they're getting "unplugged" from TV, games, and the electronic world in general for bad behavior or poor performance, then they are.  If you tell them they're going to Disneyland, don't then backpedal and tell them Disneyland burned down. You go. Sometimes integrity is all we have left to us. Make your word dependable.
Laughing at kids when you're supposed to be yelling at them may not be the most effective way to get a point across. Wait to laugh when you're alone and they can't see you.
If at all possible, train child to go to your spouse's side of the bed in the middle of the night when they feel sick. That way, you will never be vomited on.
Open communication goes a long way toward trust.
If you want to feel old and lame, try dancing in front of teen daughter's friends.
While child is in school, use the time to practice for hours on Dance Dance Revolution. This won't guarantee you a win, but will make you feel less stupid when your score is more respectable.
The best way to clear your kids from a room is to kiss your spouse loudly.
People tend to act to the level of expectations of others. Expect greatness from your children.
Hauling boulders out of mountains and accidentally breaking windows out of the family van while escaping a hive of hornets can be hilarious.
Sometimes moms need time outs too.
Jumping out and scaring your kids is also hilarious.
Them doing it to you is not.
Keep the camera handy at all times.
Make a rule that they can't bug you until the sun comes up. Works great in winter . . . you might need black out curtains for the summer.
Let them know up front that the tooth fairy is pretty flaky, unreliable, and quite possibly a politician.
In writing I always say show, don't tell. In child rearing, I say something similar. Show AND tell them you love them every day.

Happy Birthday Tjej! You are everything I never was at your age. I am so glad you're my daughter and so in awe of the woman you've grown to be.  I wasn't always a good mom every day, but I was always glad to be YOUR mom every day.

Writing Rocks

Today I found out my book Hazzardous Universe is being featured on the Seagull Book and Tape home page of their website near the bottom.  I don't think that's ever happened with one of my books before. How cool is that???? The book is being featured alongside the video my publisher did of Kevin Wasden and me. The sound is really low so turn your speakers up. The background music is fun.

Go have a look: http://www.seagullbook.com/

I am lame in the video a little, but I am lame all the time so it won't be a surprise to anyone.

Book two to the Hazzardous Universe is done and into the publisher, and I'm a little antsy to start working on book three. So much fun stuff ahead!

Something I discovered while working on my newest book today was that sometimes accidentally adding a letter to a word can really really change the meaning to a sentence. My main character went from being busy to being busty. No surgery involved Glad to have caught that one.

I'm almost finished with my latest Work in Progress and am beyond thrilled about it. It's one book that will be part of a four book series. The other three books are being written by Josi Kilpack, Heather Moore, and Annette Lyon. I am so excited for all the coolness of this series! It's women's fiction that deals with relationships and the importance of friendship. It is such an honor to work and write alongside the three women who have changed and altered my writing path for the better.  They are all such incredible writers as well as incredible friends that it humbles me and fills me with gratitude to be associated with them.

We've had a few writing get-togethers, which includes food, laughing, talking, more laughing, and actual writing. So cool to work and collaborate with great minds.

I've been thinking a lot about collaboration lately and found that my experience has been really positive with working with others. Kevin was and is an absolute joy. He's been really wonderful to let me have creative freedom in writing the story of Hap Hazzard and Tara Jordan. And now, working with Josi, Annette, and Heather, I've found even more joy. Working with creative people who all respect each other really is key. That's how collaboration can work. If everyone is there for the sake of the project and can put their own egos aside–the project suddenly becomes a life unto itself and creativity flows.

I always warn people when they mention they're planning on collaborating on a project. There are so many things that can go wrong. I've seen friendships die on the vine due to projects that went awry. But my own personal experiences have been so phenomenal. I'd love to take the credit and say it's because I'm just so darn easy to work with, but really . . . the opposite is true. I am sometimes beyond lame. I think my collaborations have worked because I've surrounded myself with good people. They make up the differences where I fall short.

I guess that's the secret to successful collaboration–work hard, be willing to make concessions, and surround yourself with good people. Today is just a good day and writing rocks.

Valerie Holladay

Valerie Holladay: friend and mentor passed away on July 3rd. I've already posted about this at writing on the wall, but wanted to mention it here too so that anyone who doesn't know can have the chance to go her memorial services on Monday. 

Valerie Holladay's sister wrote that Valerie rescued injured animals from the side of the road and lifted strangers who had lost their way. At the time I met Valerie, I was a stranger who had lost my way. I was in the throes of depression over the rejection of my third manuscript when someone introduced me to her at a luncheon for authors. She asked me what I was working on.

Well . . . she asked, so I spilled. She did something rare upon hearing my story, something spectacular, something that changed me forever and made me who I am right now. She offered to read the manuscript and give me some advice. I sent it to her and several weeks later got a letter back from her. It was my first editorial letter. My previous publisher had been relaxed about editing, and so I had no experience with such a thing. Through her selfless offer of help to a sad stranger, I learned what it meant to polish a draft–to view characters in a different way, to consider plot points that didn't work. She taught me how to make a gritty, caustic, bitter character lovable.

And when I was done with all the changes she said I should make, the story was a million times improved. I had written a good book before, but this was something different. This was a whole new level of writing. It struck me how much I owe her, how grateful I am for that chance meeting that changed a so-so writer into something more. Her generosity was boundless, and I know that she had done this for many others besides me. She genuinely cared about people. She wanted their happiness for them as much as they wanted it for themselves. Valerie's good heart left an imprint on the hearts of many."

"A memorial service will be held on Monday, July 11, 2011, at 11:30 a.m. at her ward meetinghouse: 222 South 100 East in Nephi, Utah. The family will be receiving visitors in the Relief Society room from 10-11 where we will have a display and a music/picture video honoring her life. Family and out-of-town friends, please plan to stay for a luncheon immediately following the service. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations to the American Cancer Society or the Humane Society of Utah."

Nineteen Years

Yesterday was my nineteenth anniversary. It feels weird to think I've been married that long. I don't feel old enough to have been married NINETEEN YEARS, and yet, I have a hard time remembering life before Mr. Wright—though that might have something to do with the fact that I went on my first date with Mr. Wright when I was sixteen-ish. I've learned a few things in the years of being married and decided to share nineteen things about being married I've learned in my nineteen years of actually being married.

Romance is more about friendship and fun than it is about roses and candlelight
Kicking a man under the table to get him to shut up is useless when he just loudly asks, "Why are you kicking me?" afterward.
The three syllables I'm sorry are as important as the three syllables I love you.
Mr. Wright and I must have a good mix of genetics, because our kids are beautiful, brilliant demigods.
There is nothing sexier than finding your husband in the middle of the night trying to balance a bottle, a baby, and a book as he reads the scriptures to your newborn.
Speaking well of each other inspires the other to live up to the reputation you've given them.
I feel safer when he's with me.
I'm lost without him—and I don't mean that in a metaphoric sense. I really mean I'm lost without him. I have never been good with directions, and he has a grid in his head at all times.
I'm a complete grouchy monster of a female when I am tired.
Mr. Wright is a complete grouchy monster of a male when he is hungry.
We are pure evil when I'm tired and he's hungry at the same time.
Little things make a big difference. I love that he makes Crème brulee for me—that I hardly ever have to touch a gas handle because he tries to keep my car full of gas for me—that he laughs with me. That he never complains when I call him for directions when I'm on the road and lost.
No one can chase a dream alone. No one can climb to success without someone else holding the ladder for them. I would not be a published author without his support, belief, and help.
It's funny when you dump a bucket of ice water over the curtain on a man taking a shower.
It's not so funny when he gets you back, and it's hard to understand why he's laughing when he should be apologizing.
Listening to my husband explain physics, math, verb conjugation, the golden rule . . . to our children is some of the best noise I've ever heard.
True love is sticking around when things are bad, so you're still there when things get good again.
I didn't know what people were talking about when I was a teenager in love—when they would say I didn't really know what love was. Nineteen years later when I love him more today than yesterday and more yesterday than the day before that . . . I think I am finally understanding.
Growing up with him was fun, exciting, exhilarating. Growing old with him is perfect.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. Wright. I love you.

Whitney Awards, Conference, and Good Stuff

I have never been speechless in my entire life. Never. Not once that I can recall. I think I was born talking. My dad used to take me to his business stuff and military stuff when I was incredibly small because I had a huge vocabulary and absolutely no fear of using it. He liked showing off the baby who spoke in full sentences even before she had enough hair to qualify her as a girl. Seriously. Never. Speechless.

Until Saturday night.

I had not allowed myself to prepare any kind of acceptance speech if Cross My Heart should win the Whitney Award. Any time my mind wandered in that direction, I immediately yanked it back. After my freakish month of feeling wretched, I wasn't emotionally up to disappointment. I'd read the other finalists. They were good. I closed one in particular and thought to myself, "She is definitely going to win." But it didn't really bother me to think I'd lost. I attributed it to their excellence, rather than my mediocrity. Good books should win. And that was okay with me.

So I went to the conference feeling surprisingly normal. A lot of that normal feeling stemmed from the fact that I FINALLY finished Hazzardous Universe Book 2 and got it turned in to my illustrious editor, Kirk Shaw. Getting the book done and in, and feeling good about the end result of that product, went a long way toward feeling normal. The conference went well; meeting up with friends, and making a few new ones, went a long way toward normal as well.

And then Saturday night happened. I wore black . ..  because that's what I do, found my seat with wonderful online friends that I pretty much only see once a year, picked at my food, and listened to the opening statements. It started so quickly. The romance category was announced first, and it seems I had barely enough time to blink as I wrenched my cloth napkin in my hands and felt my legs turn to water.

Then they were announcing my name . . . the title of MY book. My brain froze. I couldn't process the words, yet my emotions experienced no such freezing as I immediately melted into a snotty, sodden mess of waterfall. Had they really called *my* name? I knew I had to go up there, but my legs wouldn't move. Mr. Wright had to tap me and remind me to walk to the stage.

People talk about slow motion where every breath inhaled and exhaled feels as though they mark the passing of minutes rather than fractions of seconds. Where the time in which every step forward seems monitored by hours. I can't really remember the walk to the platform and the microphone, but it felt like it took forever. I remember the hugs from the people who announced the award for the 2010 Romance category. Sheila, Shanda, and Mindy were hugging on me and crying right along with me.

And then I turned and faced the podium, stepped up to the microphone, and experienced the impossible.

I was speechless. It wasn't just about having nothing to say. I literally could not get the air to flow pass my pipes to create sound. I made some odd orangutan movements, squawked like some mental bird, and looked pretty silly in general before the words finally came.

Granted, the words were rendered difficult to understand through the blubbering and squawking. And, granted, they weren't all that brilliant, or poignant, or entertaining, or even well thought out.

But at least they did show up.

It was a humbling experience, and I still feel a little weepy (absurd . . . I know), and I still feel a little giddy. And that beautiful award shaped like a book that really opens and closes and has my name and title etched into its perfect acrylic face looks absolutely stunning on my bookshelf.

My daughter reminded me today that when I first bought that particular bookcase, I remarked how well a Whitney Award would look on it.

I love being right.

Thank you, Kirk, for being such an amazing editor. I don't think it's a coincidence that the first three winners were your authors. Thank you, Josi, for the incredible work you put into the awards this year and the work you'll have to put in next year. Last weekend Josi Kilpack, Heather Moore, Annette Lyon, and I spent the weekend in a hotel together so we could work on a series we're writing together. Heather, Annette, and I were finalists. Josi knew the results. And she didn't say a thing. She didn't so much as breathe a clue in our direction as to how things had turned out.  She should get an award for THAT. It's pretty amazing that each of the four of us have one of these awards now. What an amazing group of friends I am so lucky to have in my life. Thank you, Covenant, for being such a great publisher, for standing behind me in all the things I write, and for being so amazing to work with.

Thank you to the academy of bookstore owners, reviewers, publishers, and storymakers who voted. My smile muscles obviously need more exercise because they still hurt, and my eyes still feel a bit blurry from all the camera flashbulbs, and I still feel genuinely loved from all those hugs. Thank you, everyone. Thank you.

Here is the list of award winners:

Outstanding Achievement Award

Rick Walton

Lifetime Achievement Award

Susan Evans McCloud

Best General

Best Historical

Best Mystery/Suspense

Best Romance

Best Speculative

Best Youth—General

Best Youth—Speculative

Best by New Author

Novel of the Year (Tie)

Congratulations to all the winners!

And Congratulations to all those eating "loser pie" and snapping silly pictures. A part of me hated not being able to join in on those pictures. You are all amazing writers and there is nothing loser about that group . . . not even remotely. Though I still love the joke of the pie