Rebecca Forster's Blog, page 3

The Solar Panel of Happiness – Mothers Day Part 2

Today is the day before the official Mothers Day day. Yesterday, I told you about the gift from my son, Eric. Today, I want to tell you about the gift from my firstborn, Alex.

Alex is a lover of the arts. More importantly, he is a champion of the artist. He is a talent manager who owns The Green Room Talent Management Agency. He spends his days searching for the perfect roles for his clients, making sure they are heard, and planning their futures with care in a business that can be impersonal and lonely.

Because I make my living in a creative profession, and because I have had many agents but none who went on a limb for me, I am in awe of this man I call my son. He not only recognizes a talented actor, he is a loyal and tireless advocate.

Alex is also incredibly fit and visits home always include an invitation to go on a walk. Last week, our walk was actually a seven-mile hike from our home to Terannea Resort on the cliffs of Palos Verdes. I usually love this mom time with him, but three miles in I was not a happy camper.

Me:   How much further?

Alex: You can rest. I’ll do some pushups while I wait.

Me:   No. I guess it’s okay. I was just wondering how much further.

Alex: Do you need to go to the bathroom?

Me:   No, but. . .

Alex: Okay, then. Long strides, mom. Did I tell you. . .

Whatever he told me got lost in my growing resentment of this forced march – and that was a shame. To our right was the ocean, blue as a sapphire; the sky above us was robin’s egg. Scarlet and magenta Bougainvillea climbed over every fence was passed. Roses as big as a babies face pocked their bushes. We passed other walkers, bikers sailed by and I kept grumbling and huffing and puffing. Alex laughed and he smiled and that turned my gloomy cloud of annoyance a dark, foreboding gray.

Me:   Why are you always like this? Why doesn’t anything bother you?

Alex: Because I have a happiness reserve.

Me:   You have what?

Alex: You know how a solar panel catches the sun and stores the energy? I store up stuff that makes me happy. When I need it, I’ve got it.

Me:   Like what?

Alex: Like you’re being a pain complaining instead of thinking how neat it is that I like to come home and take a walk with you. So instead of getting upset that you’re upset, I pull up something that makes happy: Tucker (his awesome dog), a tree or flowers (he’s an avid gardener), the way it feels when I’m kayaking, the booking I got for one of my clients. It’s like a solar panel of happiness. Nobody can drain that kind of energy. You’ve just got to remember to store it.

I paused to look at him – not because I was tired but because I was struck by his simple, profound life philosophy. I couldn’t imagine how he had come by it, but I was impressed that he lived by it. It was this quality – this principled belief that life is worth living well with all its ups and downs – that made him so unique. I was humbled and grateful that the stork had dropped this amazing human being into my lap. I had spent many years nurturing him, showing him things I thought were right and explaining why other things were wrong. Now the tables were turned. He was pushing me to be better: walk another mile, open your eyes to the beauty around you, change what you can, treat the world and the folks in it well, and always appreciate being alive.

For Mothers Day Alex started the construction on my solar panel of happiness. I will forever keep the memory of that walk in the sunshine in my reserves. It will never loose its brightness nor it’s ability to energize me. I will always be in awe of my beautiful baby who grew up to be an excellent man in every sense of the word.

Thank you for a wonderful mothers day, Alex. Nobody is loved more than you.

PS Thank goodness dad was around to drive us home. Seven miles is my limit. That’s not a complaint, just a fact.

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

I AM ‘THE BROOD QUEEN’ & ONE LUCKY MOM

My son Eric

It is Mothers Day weekend. As with the last 31 holidays since I became a mom, I have reveled in this holiday. I celebrate my own mother (more on that Sunday) and happily accept whatever accolades, surprises, and gifts my kids feel like sending my way. Usually this involves eating at a food court and seeing a guy-movie since I am a boy-mom and that’s what boys give their mothers.

This morning, I left the house to take a walk before I went to work. It was 5:30 in the a.m. and the sky was still sleepy-gray as I plugged my earphones into my phone and called up my podcasts. The first podcast on the playlist was a mother’s day gift from my youngest son, Eric.

Like me, he is a writer; unlike me he is an edgy, out-of-the-box writer. He is also the writer, produce, and brains behind the fiction/music podcast Howl Out Loud. Science fiction, fantasy and magical realism are his thing, pushing the envelope is what he does and he was in his element with his Mothers Day podcast, The Brood Queen.

Where most mom’s receive an homage to their nurturing in the form of flowers, candy, and lovely cards, I got a science fiction story about a worm that embeds itself into a woman’s ear and takes over her body. The brood queen is, however, is touched by the human kindness shown her by the host body’s unsuspecting husband. Naturally, she totally annihilates him during the mating process (this includes penetration by a proboscis and other gross things). The result of the mating is two fantastic baby worms. One baby worm takes over the body of a lawyer and the other baby worm the body of a doctor. When the baby worms go out to conquer the earth, the brood queen, naturally worries about her offspring and. . .

Well, the rest of the story is just awesome and you should listen to it.

But if you don’t have time, or science fiction isn’t your thing, or at this point you are wondering what kind of weird child I have raised, or you are thinking that I have lost my mind, I want you to know something: The Brood Queen is a story that celebrates my son’s love for me and mine for him.

Eric gave me the greatest gift possible and that is acknowledgement that, together with my husband, we raised him well in a home that was a cauldron of creativity, a host body that easily accepted his burrowing years. If he failed, he plugged back into universal outlet of family before leaving me, the brood queen and my consort, and striking out to conquer the world again. Always, he comes back to lay the spoils of his hard work at my feet and there could be no one prouder than I am.

Thank you my quirky, handsome, immensely creative son for your gift of words and imagination. Thank you, too, for the flowers you didn’t know you sent. Daddy put your name on the card.

Signing out. Loving you always. The Brood Queen.

P.S. Mom moment. Check out his wonderful books. They are as exciting as The Brood Queen.

    Eternal L.A.

Immortal L.A.

 

 

 

Tomorrow: My son Alex and The Solar Panel of Happiness.

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

HUMBLE PIE: 7 DAYS OF BEING A GUY

This month was a big birthday for my husband. I won’t say which one, but he’s getting a lot of letters marked ‘important Medicare information enclosed’, notices about the joys of a reverse mortgage, and brochures for burial-at-sea, and

Instead of a party to celebrate this rite of passage, he asked for something special: he wanted me to be the guy in our relationship. Don’t get your hopes up; this was a practical request not prurient. He just wanted to relax and not have a care in the world.

“I want to go away, just the two of us,” he said.

“No problemo,” I answered.

“You have to make all the arrangements,” he warned.

“You got it,” I promised.

“You have to pay for it.”

“Sure. Why not?” I agreed.

“I don’t want to lift a finger – for a week.”

“You are in good hands,” I assured him.

I then proceeded to make reservations at the Ojai Valley Inn. Forty years ago when we were firs married we went to Ojai and could only afford to stay at the Big 6 Motel. We dreamed of staying at the Valley Inn, so I thought this was the perfect time to splurge. I bit the bullet and made a four-day reservation. I made a spa appointment for him. I made dinner reservations. It all seemed easy enough – until he started asking questions.

When is check in?

What time are we leaving?

What route are we taking?

Do you have gas in your car?

Good grief, how should I know? When we traveled, he took care of all those things. I figured if I gave him the dates, he would get us there. I didn’t think he really wanted me to take care of everything. I scurried back to my computer for all the information and then took myself off to Costco for gas. When I got back, he dropped the big bombshell.

He assumed we would arrive in time to watch Super Bowl. I didn’t even know it was Super Bowl Sunday. I scrambled to find out what time the game was, how long it would take for us to drive to Ojai, and then called to beg for early check in so he would be in front of a TV in time for kick off. I ran to the grocery store and packed up Super Bowl treats (onion dip, chips and hostess cupcakes). In the end, it all worked out and he thought I had done an excellent job of planning our get away.

Getting there, though, was only half the battle. Over the next four days it seemed as if my credit card never made it back into my purse. There were lunches and dinners, the spa, and the room. I consoled myself that this celebration really wasn’t all that expensive if I prorated it over 23,725 days he had been on this earth. Day by day, my husband’s smile grew brighter and his step lighter. There were thanks for a wonderful time and the constant reminder that he could “get used to this.”

I wanted to scream: please, please, please don’t get used to this. Please go back to being the guy. Sunday, Valentines Day, he will revert to the role of hunter-gatherer, defender of his woman, driver of the car, person who figures out maps and directions, and payer of most bills. In anticipation of the hand-over of power, this is my birthday/valentine message to my husband.

Dear husband,

Happy Birthday. I hope you enjoyed the week. Now that I’m done being the guy I want to thank you  for  a few things.

Thank you for working extra hard when you were seventeen so you could take sixteen year-old me out to dinner. I had no idea dating could be so expensive and time consuming.

Thank you for treating a much older me like I am still sixteen and your date.

Thank you for always being so steady even though you were probably sweating through the last forty years of career changes, raising two kids, moving houses, taking care of aging parents, and basically being a guy. You are a really great guy. It’s a hard job and you make it look easy.

Happy Birthday. Happy Valentines Day.

Signed,

Your wife (not a guy anymore)

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

5 Things I Learned during Mentoring Month

January was the mentoring month and  over the last four weeks Rebecca and I have been working with Rebecca on my first novel, The Witches of New Moon Beach.  She has been incredibly creative, using many different strategies to teach me her craft. I think that this project has actually required far more time than she ever thought it would, and writing a book is far more work than I thought it would be.  I know how lucky I am to have her stick with me through this process. I get frustrated easily and expect perfection from myself far too often. Still, all is not lost.  I have learned a lot in the last few weeks and here are the five most important lessons.

1) Rewriting – a lot of rewriting – is part of the process not a punishment. Often, when I thought I was done, I was really  still at the starting line. I had to learn to be more patient and to embrace the fact that a book is not written overnight.

2) My  characters started living in my head. They travel with me everywhere. I see an outfit in a store and wonder how my character would look wearing it; I see a car and imagine her driving it.  That is kind of freaky, but it is definitely fun.

3) I found out that keeping track of a word count defeats creativity.

4) Sometimes I just had to walk away, rethink, and then re-imagine where I wanted my story to go. That downtime is just as important as the time I spend typing.

5) I learned that my mentor – and probably yours –  has  clear vision. They see things you don’t. As new writers we all need someone who can identify both our strengths and weakness.

Really, the most valuable lesson I learned is that I need to stop dreaming and really think about what kind of book I want to write. My mentor may be my friend (and in this case my sister-in-law) but she can’t and shouldn’t write my book for me.

My book isn’t finished, but it will be. The one thing I’ll never do is give up. One of these days I hope you’ll be looking inside a book called The Witches of New Moon Beach.

Thanks for the encouragement sent my way. Maybe one of these days, I’ll be mentoring a new writer of my own.

Happy writing,

Meriam Wilhelm.

 

 

 

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

The Magic of Mentoring: 3 weeks, 10 lessons

I hardly saw Meriam this last week, but it’s only because she’s been so busy. Here’s an update on her progress as an author and a report on my walk down memory lane. First, let’s look at what Meriam has accomplished:
1) Revised dialogue making it less formal/creating distinctive voices.
2) Completely revamped one main character and deleted another (the latter is being saved for another book).
3) Rethought/reworked at least one full chapter in the book (many writers – including me – can’t bring themselves to delete or minimize large sections of their work. Kudos, Meriam.)
4) Knocked chapter endings making them both compelling and strategic
5) Policed herself on show/don’t tell

At 25,000 words and counting, this is a milestone draft for Meriam. A document that read like a character sketch of The Witches of New Moon Beach is now taking on the form and substance of a book.

While Meriam has had an A+ week, I did a little legwork of my own. After reading her blog last week and hearing that she had a few ‘ouch’ moments during my critique, I pulled out my rejection letters, my first editorial letters, and one of my early books. It looked like Meriam and I had quite a bit in common. All those years ago, I had a few ‘ouch’ moments of my own. This is what I discovered about my own writing.

1) I wrote predictable dialogue. High emotion was equated with tears and raised voices.
2) I wrote the characters that I thought people wanted to read instead of characters I believed in.
3) I did not ask myself the tough questions: does this situation, dialogue, place, and time frame make sense?
4) I, too, was told to do write my book over, and over. As one editor said, ‘do it over not just for a reader but for yourself ‘.

It seems, that I haven’t been teaching Meriam how to write her book; I have been sharing lessons that I learned long ago. I was mentored by editors who took my raw material and helped me sculpt it into a book. Not only do Meriam and I share a common history in terms of craft, we also share a trait that is critical to success: stick-to-it-iveness. Perhaps that is the most critical piece of the writing and mentoring equation.

Meriam also taught me a lesson this week, number ten on our list: people learn in different ways. Some are visual, some audio learners and others are hands on. Early last week Meriam and I changed the way we worked together. I stopped making notes on her digital file because this proved too restricting. I lapsed into the shorthand of an experienced novelist and that made the to her notes confusing. Last week, we met at a local wine bar. We each brought a hard copy of her book. In a quiet corner we went through her manuscript page-by-page, brainstormed, played devil’s advocate and, finally, left with both of us feeling as if we had made huge strides in moving her book forward (not to mention the wine made it all delightfully fun).

They say that writing is a lonely profession. Maybe it is, but no one can do it alone. I for one am grateful for every editor who advised me, reader who left a review encouraging me, and writer friends who share their knowledge. In a few months, The Witches of New Moon Beach will be published. Once it is, I know that Meriam will write another book and it will be better than the first. I also know that she will keep the chain going, passing along what she’s learned to another writer and that is the magic of mentoring.

Meriam Wilhelm is an educator who has written books for the parents of grammar school age children. This will be her first work of fiction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

The Mentoring Maze #2: Meriam’s Turn

My name is Meriam Wilhelm. Two years ago I retired after 35 years in education. Finding myself with more time than I knew what to do with and feeling a bit lost, I consulted my bucket list of Things To Do Once I Retire. And there it was – #1 on my list – Write A Book.

After sharing parenting advice for so many years as a school principal, I sat down and wrote a four nonfiction books for parents of grammar school age children. I am proud of my books, especially my recently revised edition of Bully Maze: Finding A Way Out. As happy as I was with each of those books, I understood that writing about what I knew was comfortable and came rather naturally. I wanted to have fun. I wanted to step out of my comfort zone.  I decided to write a novel, and that’s when my real education about writing began.

All of my insecurities came to life. Would I sound silly? Would anyone even want to read my work? Would my professional colleagues be shocked to learn that romantic comedy witch books were my new thing? And how in the world was I going to change my formal “principal” tone into a more lighthearted, whimsical, fun storyteller voice? Then I thought, what the heck?  I jumped in with both feet and wrote the first chapters of The Witches of New Moon Bay.

As my characters come to life I am growing to really like them. I love the challenge of writing about lives filled with magic, uncertainty and happiness. The more I write, the more I want to know about where my characters will go, who they will meet, who their friends are and if they have any enemies. The neat part is that I get to decide everything about their lives. Yes, as much fun as I had starting this project, switching from non-fiction to fiction was harder than I expected so I turned to Rebecca to guide me through the process. How could she refuse? She’s my sister-in-law.

As an adult it was tough to place my dream of writing in another person’s hands, and even harder to accept the criticism that must be part of the process. In the end, I had to weigh how much I wanted to succeed and how hard was I willing to work for that success. How many times was I up for starting over, throwing out a chapter or reinventing a character? I decided, I was willing to work as hard as I must.

I put my ego in my back pocket and reminded myself that each time that Rebecca and I met, each time she suggested a change, it was meant to help me to become a better writer. At times, it’s a tug of war as I want to take my story in one direction, while she wants me to investigate others. In the end, I decided I wanted to write a good, entertaining book that I could be proud of. To do that, I had to trust my mentor. And I do. I have confidence that Rebecca sees the big picture and will successfully shepherd me through when I get stuck or off track.

The first time I floated chapters to Rebecca they flopped! That hurt a bit, but after licking my wounds and talking it over with her, I picked my spirits up and started again. Rebecca continues to offer me clear insights, practical strategies and examples of what I need to do, all wrapped up in her “you can do it” attitude. Whether she really believes that I can do it or not doesn’t matter; she makes me believe that I can write a good, fun story about witches. Maybe that’s what mentoring is about, instilling faith while teaching a new writer how to look objectively at her work.

I recognize that I still have a great deal to learn. Sometimes after really listening and rewriting a passage I find out that I missed the point all together. Ouch! Over the next few weeks I look forward to sharing my progress with you. Hopefully, at the end of this long, scary road Rebecca and I will remain friends and I will have a book to share with all of you. Fingers crossed!

 

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

The Mentor Maze: 4 weeks, 2 authors, 1 book

According to Costco Magazine, January is Mentoring Month.

I’m not sure it’s necessary to have an official month since most adults already mentor someone – parents to children, teachers to students, managers to staff – but this January that news meant something to me. I had just become a mentor to a newbie author.

This wasn’t my first time. Thirty years ago I mentored a woman  who had a wonderful story to tell. For three months I labored over her work giving it as much (if not more) attention as my own. One day she informed me that writing was too much work. I was bewildered. Of course writing is a lot of work.Thirty years ago, want-to-be writers pretty much stumbled through the process by themselves. Seasoned authors were reluctant to share information, there was no Internet, and when it came to craft it was the blind-leading-the-blind. When my first book was published, the editors in New York became my mentors and they were tough. They didn’t worry about my feelings; they wanted to show me how to write a saleable book. Those objective lessons helped me during my 25 years writing for traditional publishers. With the digital revolution, I became an indie author. I work fulltime with Jenny Jensen*, a freelance editor whose professionalism, dry sense of humor, and cut-to-the-chase advice fits my style perfectly. After publishing over 30 books writing can be an emotional experience for me, but editing is all about business.

Fast-forward and it is January 2016. I have once again become a mentor. Meriam Wilhelm, an award winning teacher and principal, is a nonfiction author of small books that solve big problems for parents of grammar school age children (The Bully Maze is one of my favorites. I wish she had written it when my children were small). Recently, though, Meriam sent me two chapters of a Romantic Comedy (sub-genre: witches) to review.

If this were any other author I would have politely declined to read the chapters. Witches weren’t my genre, I was working on a new book, and I remembered the ‘too much work’ lady all too well. But Meriam had a little leverage. Meriam is my sister-in-law. That complicated an already complicated relationship of a creative mentor and newbie protégé. The good news is that we both were aware of the pitfalls, the divide in our experience, and the fact that she is writing a genre that is light years away from mine. We are also aware of the fact that none of this will mean a darn thing if feelings get in the way. The question is, can we navigate the personal and professional waters, create a great book that is more hers than mine, and still be friends at the end?

For the next four weeks we’ll weigh in on the good, the bad and (hopefully not) the ugly of our new relationship as mentor and protégé. This week it is my turn to share and, true to my comfort zone, I will share my analysis of her work.

The good news is that Meriam knows what she wants to accomplish, is an avid reader of her genre, and understands digital publishing. The other side of the coin isn’t as shiny. She is starting from square one with little understanding of story and plot structure, pacing, characterization and basic formatting. This means the project will be labor intensive and there is no assurance that she will be able to transition from nonfiction to fiction no matter how hard we work.

As for me, I bring a lot of experience to the table. I’ve been an instructor at UCLA’s Writers Program, writing conferences and a volunteer in middle school classrooms. I understand both traditional and digital marketing. On the flip side, I can be impatient. I tear apart my own work mercilessly (as does Jenny), and will probably do the same to Meriam’s. For me, that kind of creative brutality is just good business but for Meriam it might be a little too much. I worry about doing more harm than good by imposing my voice on her work and my expectations on her work ethic.

Luckily, we respect one another’s talents and value our friendship. Hopefully, the result of this experience will be magical and The Witches of New Moon Bay will be a book we can both be proud of. Check in next week and see how it’s going.

Next week Meriam writes about: The Long and Scary Road

*jennyjensen10@yahoo.com

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

WARNING! THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS INSPIRATION

Christmas is almost packed away, tonight is New Years Eve, tomorrow  is 2016. I wasn’t going to write a blog. I mean, really. Who needs to hear about my resolutions (there aren’t any) or the things I’m happy to leave behind from 2015 (too few to mention), or how my husband and I will get all wild and crazy celebrating the holiday (dinner at six, asleep by 10:30)?

I changed my mind when I saw the message below. It came from a dear friend, the woman who wrote me my first fan letter over 25 years ago. I don’t know who wrote this piece. If I did I would happily give credit where it is due because this is the kind of thinking that gives me hope and attainable direction. It is written with words that make me smile. Whoever the author is, thank you. Your optimism is catching and this message cries out to be shared. So here it is, words from an unknown author, noticed by a friend, who sent them to me, so that I could send it to you. I couldn’t have said  this better.

DEAR ALL,

The Boarding on Flight 2016 has been announced. Hope you have checked in only the best souvenirs from 2015 in your luggage. The BAD and SAD moments if carried, must be thrown away in the garbage on arrival.  The flight will be for 12 months long. So, loosen your seat belts, jingle and mingle.

The stop-overs will be :

Asterisk with eight spokesHealth,

Asterisk with eight spokesLove,

Asterisk with eight spokesJoy,

Asterisk with eight spokesHarmony,

Asterisk with eight spokesWell-being

Asterisk with eight spokesPeace.

Refueling will be at:

Thumbs up signGiving

Thumbs up signSharing

Thumbs up signCaring.

The Captain (God) offers you the following menu which will be served during the flight:

White heavy check mark Cocktail of Friendship,

White heavy check mark Supreme of Health,

White heavy check mark Grating of Prosperity,

White heavy check mark Bowl of Excellent News

White heavy check mark Salad of Success,

White heavy check mark Cake of Happiness,

All accompanied by bursts of laughter…

But remember, you will enjoy these meals and the journey better if you talk, share, smile and laugh together. Sitting silent and sullen will make the flight seem longer.

Wishing you and your family Family an enjoyable trip on board of flight 2016…..

Collision symbolSparklesCircling stars (dizzy)DancerRunnerMan and woman holding handsCouple with heartWoman with bunny earsHeavy black heartSparkling heartLove letterRingUmbrella with rain dropsSnowmanWater waveRainbowFoggyPalm treeRoseTulipFour leaf clover

Before the Flight 2015 ends,

Allow me to Thank All of You

Who Made 2015 Beautiful For me and my family,

We Pray that you all be Blessed With an Awesome Year Ahead.

Heart with ribbonWrapped presentConfetti ballParty popperBalloon

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

5 Essential Things to Bring to Thanksgiving Dinner

It’s that time again. Time to be thankful. Time to reflect. Time to fight over the drumstick. It’s also the time when we ask our Thanksgiving host or hostess:

“What can I bring?”

You know what’s on the list: salad, rolls, maybe a pie or two. But here are 5 essential things you should take with you that your hostess may not ask for.

1)Yourself. Seriously leave the entourage at home. Your boss, your kid’s teacher, your ex, and the guy who sideswiped your car last week have their own turkey dinners to gobble up. If they want to drag you along to their party let ’em, but take a tip from the turkey and stuff your baggage.

2) A camera. Do not bring a phone, a tablet, a computer or any multi-tasking electronic thing. Bring an old fashioned camera, point it at people and remember why you are taking their picture. Hint: it is because you love them and want to remember them. Make them smile, catch them in a kiss, or capture the cook in the kitchen. Upload. Share. Feel good. You might even want to frame a real, honest-to-goodness print.

3) A covered dish. Who can resist a covered dish? The first thing people do is lift the top to see what’s inside. Your dish doesn’t have to be filled with food. Put something fun inside: wax lips from the party store, crayons and paper, candy, or cards.

4) Curiosity. Don’t just nod to those friends and relatives you see once a year before making a beeline for the couch. Ask everyone at least one question. You’ll be amazed how interested they will be in you when they know that you are interested in them. Caution: trying this on teenagers can be tough but hang in there. They speak eventually.

5) Gratitude. Don’t  serve it up like lumpy gravy, just take a second and acknowledge your good fortune. Come on, there will be at least one thing to be grateful for and you’ll probably think of a baker’s dozen once you get started. I venture to say that someone around the table might just be putting you on their gratitude list too – especially if you take a nice picture of them.

Have an awesome Thanksgiving and let me know what you decide to put in that covered dish.

 

 

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster

The Day Bailey Devlin Was Born (or the story of a long, painful, labor of love)

 By the time you read this, I will have published the Bailey Devlin Series. These three books were written over the course of six grueling months. It is a miracle that I am still married and that my children still speak to me. Pretty much, about three months into the process, I morphed into a walking nerve and stayed that way until I typed ‘the end’. Conversations around our house kind of went like this:

Husband: “What do you want for dinner?”

Me:             “I don’t think these books are funny. They’re supposed to be funny. I’m not sure

they are funny. People have to laugh. Or at least smile when they read them.”

Husband:   I’m sure they’re fine.”

Me:  “I want a taco.”

Husband:   “Sounds good. I’ll go to. . .”

Me:   “You don’t think it will be fine, do you? I can hear it in your voice. You’re just being nice. You don’t think they’re funny, I can tell. I don’t think I can eat.”

Husband:  “I’m sure they’re funny. You’re funny. . . (pause). . . you were funny. Before. . .”

He mumbles something as he goes upstairs and closes the bedroom door. No dinner.

I yell up the stairs: “What do you think? About the books, I mean? Being funny?”

I recall having conversations like this when I was pregnant – just substitute fat for funny. The only difference is that I got tacos when I was pregnant. To be exact, I got giant burritos. I ate a giant burrito and a waddled around the block the day I went into labor. At three in the morning I thought my labor pains were indigestion. Neither was pleasant.

I swore off burritos.

I had one more baby then I swore off babies.

Now that the Bailey Devlin series is launched, my literary hormones have settled, I am ready to tell you the truth. The truth is that being an indie author – one who has gone rogue and written outside her normal thriller genre – is just like childbirth and here’s why.

1) Conception: Fun, exciting, and takes place in a burst of extraordinary passion. That’s what it was like conceiving Bailey Devlin. My mother asked for some books-with-out-bodies. Not that she didn’t like my thrillers, it’s just that she wanted to see if I could actually put more than three sentences together without killing a character. I heard that wistful tone in her voice. It sounded like ‘will I ever be the grandmother to a book-baby that makes me smile?” Her 91st birthday was in September and Bailey Devlin was her present. It took a few tries, it took some restraint not to kill Bailey off, but eventually the seed was planted; Bailey Devlin was more than a twinkle in my eye.

2) Gestation: No morning sickness, no sleepless nights, no discomfort. The Day Bailey Devlin’s Horoscope Came True came trippingly off the keyboard. Piece of cake. The Day Bailey Devlin Picked Up a Penny took a little longer and by the time The Day Bailey Devlin’s Ship Came In, mine had sailed, leaving me adrift in a sea of doubt. Were these books as funny as I thought? Would anyone really care about Bailey? Was she ever going to pass the bar and find happiness? Who did she really love? Would she have my eyes but her father’s feet? Can’t they give me something for the pain? Oh, sorry, keep getting these two events confused. We’re talking books not childbirth.

3) Labor: It never goes as smoothly as you think it will. No matter how often you’re coached, you forget to breathe. I knew there would be the mind numbing pain but I didn’t realize I would be the one inflicting it. My very patient editor* was not fooled by the fake smiley faces at the end of each email asking, WELL? HAVE YOU READ IT? The poor cover designer* has probably decided that selling insurance would be more fulfilling than ever working with the nit-picking me again. And then there were the frantic emails in the middle of the night begging the formatter* to revise the files because I’d found yet another typo. Think breach birth on that one. I kept wondering if these files would ever turn around and come out the right way.

4) Delivery: I delivered triplets; three books published on the same day. By this point, I was goofy with getting them written, formatted, covered and published, so I did what any reasonable person would do: I went on vacation and left them with grandma.

Now readers are visiting my offspring. I hope they love the covers and adore Bailey Devlin and her crew. I hope they laugh and cry because the stories are sweet in a sexy world. They are inspired by people I know and love. Bailey Devlin is me and I think she is every woman. Like an anxious mom, I’m waiting for someone to chuck me under the chin, and tell me I did good, and that they really like my babies.

Happy Birthday Bailey Devlin. It was worth every minute.

Thanks to my birthing team:

*Jenny Jensen -editorial

*Paul Ziomek – covers

*Steff McDaid – formatting

*Robin Blakely – PR/marketing

*Tod Damotte – Bailey mini-movie

  Read more...

This article is copyright ©  Rebecca Forster