A.C. Autry's Blog, page 3

Down Came the Rain

It's Wednesday. You know what that means! I hope that you said, "New blog post!" You're correct, by the way. May is still screaming by, just like always. But unlike always, we're a soggy mess right now. I had mentioned in a Facebook post about scouting locations for a Ransom of the Healer book trailer. It's a very exciting idea and I am looking forward to turning it into a reality. 
We found the perfect location and figured out the means to get there. I was planning costumes and beginning to put together the ideas for camera shots. Things were moving along well. And then the skies opened up. I'm sure by now you've seen the video footage of the exorbitant amount of rainfall the Lone Star has received as of late. My heart hurts for my fellow Texans who have lost lives, loved ones, and homes. We're used to crazy weather here, but this is more than we've grown accustomed to. It's downright staggering. Twenty of the last 26 days have brought rain to our area. 
What does the rain have to do with the book trailer? Our key location was on the remains of a bridge in a lake that has been accessible for a few years. That bridge is no longer an option. Now, please forgive my horrible photography. Some of these pictures were accidents and I had no intention of sharing them on my blog when I took them. But I changed my mind so you can see this and marvel with me. 
This first picture was taken on the first of May when we were scouting the location. I'm actually standing in the predominately dry lake bed looking back towards the shore. (It was an accidental picture as I was trying to avoid hidden animals that both screeched and hissed at us.)
Fast forward several thunderstorms and two weeks later and you have a vastly different location. This was taken from the other side of the lake. That tiny speck in the picture is what was left of a portion of the bridge I could have walked across on the day I took the first picture. I haven't taken a picture in the last few days, but the tops of the rails are just about submerged again.

I'm not about to complain about rearranging filming when people have suffered so much and are still dealing with the ramifications of the storms. I've just been amazed at the sheer volume of water in a land that's been suffering a significant drought for the last several years. 
As I was wading through a flooded field I came across these floating blobs. If you've ever wondered how ants survive when their nests are flooded, here you go. They band together and form islands. I had never seen this before but I found it fascinating.  

I've found other things fascinating during our monsoon season. Like this, for example. I love when one of these pops up after a storm, but when two of them are there, you must stop and stare until they vanish.

And just two nights ago after another severe thunderstorm, the prairie sky was once again wide and high. (Insert hand claps here.)
Photo credit goes to Rex for this one.As the water begins to recede, let's continue to take care of each other out there and remember that people are the priority. And soak in those sunsets. Beauty has a soothing quality about it and there are some out there who could use a touch of it today.

May I?

"Wednesdays are for blogging," she said.
"But I demand your constant attention," May said.

It's that time of year again. In a valiant effort to make every moment count, the month of May roars in and threatens to remove all semblances of order and routine for four consecutive weeks of end of the year activities. Yes, it takes an entire month to end the school year. When the chalk and ghosts of assignments past finally settle, I will have attended no fewer than six awards ceremonies and other various "final performances."

We are heading face first into summer vacation around here and I give. Bedtimes are stretching out later and later as the sunshine continues to cascade through the blinds in the evening. Our wardrobe choices have relaxed into a "just make sure it's clean" system and I don't even bother to check if socks match anymore. The nostalgic laissez-faire household policy of summer living is creeping in and waffles are served for dinner, flip flops have taken up residence on the front porch, and reading cots are permanently stretched out in the living room. It's a wonderful time to be alive. It's a challenging time to try to write.

I'm making it work though! In between book battles, band concerts, track meets, and appointments for a broken bone, I'm chipping away at the rewriting process. I'm overdue for a blog post, so I just thought I would drop a quick snapshot of life barreling down the highway to summer. I know it's like that for the majority of us out there. Just remember to take a moment to kick off your shoes, have a glass of iced tea, and breathe. We've almost made it. In just a few weeks we'll be wondering where on earth our summer vacation went. One day at a time, my friends. We're smack dab in the middle of soaking up the moments that become memories. Some things just shouldn't be rushed.

When It’s Not Your Cup of Tea

I‘m a tea drinker. A hot cup of tea can wake me up, calm me down, or offer comfort in stressful situations. There are as many tea options available as there are moods to be in. If you’re not finding one to fit your current craving, you can just create your own. It’s quite versatile.
I’m also a reader. Books can lift my mood, bring me down, offer comfort in stressful situations, and give me an acceptable barrier when I need to withdraw from my surroundings. The wonderful thing about books is that there are also infinite options out there to fit what mood you’re in. Or what mood you want to be in. Books can help with that. As abundant as books are in quantity and expanse of genre, they have one thing in common. They were written.
Just as we don’t know the story inside the book before we’ve read it, we also don’t know the story behind it for the one who has written it. It’s the same concept for anything that’s created. We hear a song, but don’t know where the songwriter is coming from. We admire a piece of art without knowing the motive behind it. We can appreciate an amazing, I mean eyes will roll back in your head amazing, crème brûlée without knowing the life story of the one who prepared it. The common thread that ties these all together is that they are created things. Someone had to put the time, effort, and work into moving these things from thoughts or ideas into substances we can physically enjoy.
I’m thankful there are people out there who are willing to share their creations with me. I have songs that have become personal anthems, I have books that are falling apart because their words are familiar destinations I can revisit as often as I need to. I especially love the friends who can bake amazing chocolate cakes and are happy to share them. **Ahem, you know who you are, and I love you.** Every time we create something we are sharing a little bit of ourselves. Honestly, that takes some courage.
Pardon me, while I wipe the drool from my chin.
So what happens when you hear a song that makes you grit your teeth, or you see art that strikes you as less than amazing, or you read a book that makes your eyes roll in an “I can’t believe this person actually wrote this” kind of way? It happens. We have a few choices. Let me be clear, I’m not talking about things you are morally opposed to. I have my boundaries for what I will read, watch, and listen to. Some words and images just don’t deserve an invitation to take up residence in my memory. But if that isn’t the case, and it is simply a matter of opinion, what do we do when we don’t like something? What happens when it isn’t our cup of tea?

We can say, “No, thank you.”
We can remember that it is still a real person behind the work. We can recognize their creativity without having to engage in it personally. We can throw that book across the room and let it sit there for a while before picking it up and passing it along to someone else who might enjoy it. (Yes, that one is personal experience.) The other thing we can also do is remember that our words are powerful. We can cut, dismantle and destroy with them. Or we can encourage, motivate, and critique with them. I don’t mean blindly tearing into as a form of critique. Constructive criticism and ripping into shreds are two entirely different things. For some reason there are folks out there now-especially in this age of social media and personal stardom- who cling to their right to say anything, and value their own opinions and words more than they do the recipient of their assaults. When it all comes down to a matter of personal opinion and preference, we all have the choice to say, “No, thank you. That’s not my cup of tea,” then go find something that is. I guarantee we'll find something we like, and if we don't we can always create our own. The world is a big place and there is more than enough tea for all of us.

The New Office

We are once again entering the share circle, my friends. Embrace the closest book to you and repeat after me: I, fellow bookworm, do solemnly promise to refrain from passing judgement upon my fellow bookworm, A.C. Autry, as I see the before photos of her office. I also solemnly promise not to throw cleaning supplies, magazine clippings with organizational tips, or hoity-toity leers in her direction. I understand that she is human and had just finished writing her second book, Rise of the Seer, when these pictures were taken. I support her theory that a good writing day is more valuable than a clean desk. May I suffer the anguish of a dozen paper cuts soaked in lemon juice should a leer creep onto my face or a dust rag accidentally leave my hand and fly in her direction.* I will also purchase a million copies of each book she writes. ”
Thank you so much for saying that. I feel like we can now proceed into what my life was like before yellow walls. Ooops, I should have said spoiler alert there. 
Here’s some back story on the room we now call “The Office.” Once upon a time a young family moved into the house they had waited for for seven years. It was finally a place to call their own where they could plant anything they wanted. Even corn. But that doesn’t grow well here, so they never tried.They chose their own house plan so they could have a room dedicated solely to musical gear. It was to be “The Music Room.” The gear came in and the years passed. And more gear came in and more years passed. Then the fact that they had no garage came back to bite them in the drumstick. And the gear stopped trickling in as the need for a place to complete school projects arose. Slowly but surely, “The Music Room” morphed into “The Storage Room/Cave of Despair.” Hark! Our aspiring author emerged from the sanctity of naptimes and snacks with Curious George to begin creating a story. The more she created, the longer she was in “The Cave of Despair.”UNTIL ONE DAY. A vision of sunny walls and LESS STUFF filled her eyes as possibility kicked around in her imagination. They could give this sad room with the perpetually closed door the identity it had so desperately lacked. And they did. And there was great rejoicing in the land. The End.
My friends, I present to you “The Cave of Despair.”


As you can see, that wasn't an environment most conducive to writing or anything of a creative nature. In the beginning of the year I made a commitment to writing and have taken steps to jump in completely. I needed a space to match the vision I'm chasing. 
So after a month of chaos and throwing out so very much clutter, now I present to you (with its official title and identity), "The Office."


I'm really happy with the results for many reasons. The first reason is because in order to avoid filling this space back up with all of that junk, we had to get rid of so much stuff. It's liberating. It's also a place where we can all work now. Let the school projects resume! And the guitar playing! And the writing!
A word of caution if you are thinking of tackling a project like this for your own office. If you put up white boards, messages WILL randomly appear at any given time. I had the privilege of finding this one:
And there was great laughter and rejoicing in the land.The End.













*I see that you are a person who is attentive to detail. That's an admirable character trait. I don't expect you to REALLY purchase a million copies of every book that I write. We can just meet in the middle here and call it a good 500,000. That works for me. How about you? Good. I'm glad we took care of this little arrangement. You're the best! 

Now What?

Wednesdays are for blogging, she says.
I did write a blog last week, but it ended up growing into something bigger than what I intended. It involved superheroes and the portrayal of women in those roles. I'll post that one when I polish it up a bit more. Not that this one will be polished. Blogging is more conversational to me, so I don't have anyone else edit it before hitting that looming "Publish" button. I'm human. I use words incorrectly. Frequently. And I also rely on my spell check far more than I should. I think at some point I'll publish a post that's completely unedited, complete with all of the typos and words I inadvertently create when I'm trying to use another word. There's another post to look forward to!

I mentioned that I was able to attend a conference for writers in Austin this past February. It was really good and the content was pretty solid and informative. Something you may not know about me, (everyone scoot into the share circle), is that I have trouble being in groups of people. I was going to say large groups of people, but that's not accurate. Let's just make that a blanket statement and say that I have trouble being around others. It's not that I don't like you. I promise. It's not that I'm not interested in your story. I'm a writer. I devour stories and words. It's just that my heart beats really fast and my palms sweat and my stranger danger survival mode has been activated as soon as you begin to engage me in conversation. That's a lot going on all at once. Put me in that situation for a weekend conference and at every given opportunity I will flee into the safety of my personal bubble every. single. time. Engagement is a legitimate struggle for me.

I wanted to find a great photo to convey the safety I feel in my own personal bubble. I searched for "safety bubble" and this was the result. Not as dramatic as a frightened looking author crouching in their own bubble in a crowded room. But...this will work. Show of hands, who is touching their screen right now to try to pop these little guys?
So as I enter the writer's lair at the conference, I decide to actually talk to someone. The first lady I spoke with kept rubbing my hands because they were cold and I almost died. It was touch and go there for a while. **WARNING! BUBBLE INVASION!** After that conversation I spoke to another author and when she asked why I was there I told her I would like to find a way to turn writing into a career. And....she laughed at me. This wasn't just a snicker. It was a head thrown back in a full laugh. I set up an extra layer to my safety bubble after that.

It wasn't all how I envisioned it, but one of the things the experts kept saying was that you have to engage your audience daily. I just wanted to warn everyone now that I'm going to try to do that. I don't want to bombard you, and I certainly don't want to annoy, but I'm just trying some new tactics in the hope that one day I'll get to laugh in the face of an aspiring author. JUST KIDDING. I would never do that...unless you're telling me all about your new book and it's a comedy. Then I'm assuming laughter would be appropriate.

All of this to say I'm working on growing the community around The Ransom Series. It will be whatever it is supposed to be, but I want to make sure that I am working with all of my heart and giving my best effort. I want to have a place where we can talk about the world we've visited together. I want to provide others an opportunity to hopefully read something that will encourage them in their day. When it all comes down to it, we each need other people to walk with us on this journey. I can deactivate my bubble for a little while each day if that allows me to acknowledge the value I see in a fellow reader and bookworm. You guys mean a great deal to me and I'm looking forward to getting to know some folks a little better. It's a privilege to have just one reader. To you I say a heartfelt, thank you.

March In Pictures

In like a lamb, out like a lion. That was March for me. It started out innocuously enough. What's more unassuming than a spinach omelette?  Breakfast: March 4, 2015

Then it snowed and my friend Lewis made a great snowman. World's best literary agent.
From there we went into what I refer to as "Project Month." It could also be called "Tear the House Apart and Live in Utter Chaos Month." Zoe was ashamed to be associated with me and my mess.To add to the madness, this happened. We're all okay, and that is the most important thing. Really. A car is a car is a car. A person is precious. All of my people are mending well. Lotte fought an SUV.That led to a round of rousing puns and muscle relaxers for a few days. It also kept me from wanting to sit down at a keyboard and write. Laptop=tiny T-Rex arms. So I puttered around the house and finally pulled my sweet potatoes from the pantry. Yes, they've been in there a while. Yes, it was completely intentional. This time, anyway. They will eventually become sentient beings and take over the house if you let them go much longer than this.

And finally, the month ended with a turtle charging me and trying to make me shriek like a banshee. I didn't, and he didn't end up crawling up my pant leg like I legitimately feared for about three seconds. You guys, turtles...it's just a ruse. They've got everyone fooled. They can book it like a race car when they want to. And this one did.  Photo credit to the one brave enough to get that close after knowing this little guy can actually reach Mach speed when it so desires. And this one did.This was March. This is why Rise of the Seer is still in a binder on my shelf. By this time next month, it will be ready to hand off to new readers. I, unlike the turtle, needed to slow down for a bit and recharge. And I am. 

Renovations and Relaxers

Oh, my friends. March is trying to swallow me up and spit me out. After returning from my amazing conference in February, I had such lofty ideas about all the ways I could become a better writer. The first step in that process was making our home office into a place where I actually wanted to write. I haven’t decided yet if I’m brave enough to post a “before” photo. While the majority of the office is complete, it certainly isn’t finished. I’m still waiting on my computer desk to be delivered so that I can get a computer…and finally set up the printer we were given as a Christmas gift. Rise of the Seer was done entirely on a lap top, and while I’m thankful to have said keys and screen, I’m looking forward to moving on to a keyboard that doesn’t make me hold my arms out like a baby T-Rex.

Believe it or not, I actually found a stock photo of a T-Rex at a desk. The world is a strange, strange place. Moving right along, my Beta reader finished reading the first draft of Rise of the Seer. I’m now about to begin the process of rewriting based on his comments. And for anyone who may be curious, yes, we are still friends and on speaking terms. Critique can be oh-so-painful, but a second pair of eyes on your work is crucial to helping it become the best it can be. Speaking of eyes….
For undisclosed reasons, I had to take my first muscle relaxer last night. Now, I’ve had pain medication before, but I detest having to take anything like that for any amount of time. I’d rather chew on a leaf or rub some oil on whatever hurts. Usually what happens is that I end up singing a heartfelt round of Irish pirate ballads before falling asleep. No harm done. Apparently muscle relaxers bring out my pun side! I had a little notepad by the bed and scribbled out puns in my “relaxed” state. Because we are all friends here, I’ll share one of them with you. Yes, there were several. Here you go, in all of my medicated glory: In case you are having trouble deciphering my scribbles, it's "the ayes have it." This was snort laugh hilarious last night.

For Our Young Bookworms

I’ve just spent the weekend with 200+ authors and those who love the craft of writing. I was fortunate to attend the 2015 re:write conference in Austin and I have to say that it was as amazing as I had hoped it would be. If you’re an aspiring writer, I highly recommend looking into going to this conference next year. I’m still working on unpacking all of the material we covered and adjusting my own perspective on what a career in writing looks like. Did you know that there were 1.4 million new books released last year? Of those books less than 1% became best sellers. Despite the growing abundance of literature available, the pool of readers is shrinking.
I can’t remember a time I wasn’t around books. I distinctly remember wanting to read a book my brother and older cousin had been looking through. When I couldn’t figure out the words on the page I memorized what I’d heard them say, and most likely adlibbed my own contributions. I still remember the looks on their faces as I “read” the story. I believe I missed some words, but I desperately wanted to know how to read that book on my own.
Books and stories transport us to places we might not otherwise visit. We can travel to schools for wizards, hang out with mythical creatures, and watch a character grow throughout the pages of a story. If you’re like me, you have a few shelves in your home where books sit and wait for you to pick them up again whenever you’re ready to visit that world. The benefits of reading are numerous and everyone should have the opportunity to personally reap the rewards.
I distinctly remember the books my children asked for day after day after day. We could quote the entire book from cover to cover before they finally moved on to a new story. But that’s part of the beauty of reading. The repetition of language and the confidence in understanding content help little ones become more comfortable with the written word. Stories help organize thoughts and encourage creativity. Unfortunately, not every child has access to books.

First Book is an organization that wants to put books in the hands of children who may not otherwise have the opportunity to call a book their own. They have provided more than 120 million new books to schools and programs serving children in need. (Source: http://www.firstbook.org/get-involved#sthash.E8IrVeAX.dpuf) If we want to cultivate a love of learning in our younger generations, access to books and literature is critical. Everyone deserves the ability to travel wherever they want to go, to hear from voices alive and well in stories, and to be inspired by a quote or idea. Let’s help our young bookworms learn to love the adventure of reading. Let’s show them the wonder that waits for them in the pages. We should all have that beautiful memory of trekking through our first story day after day after day.

Winter

My house has been full of life this week. Winter has a way of bringing people together in a way that summer will never understand. Summer has the flashy appeal of long days with carefree nights, fireflies, and the nostalgic scents of sunscreen and chlorine. It's a delightful assault on the senses with everything from fireworks to homemade ice cream to the juice of a freshly plucked peach dribbling down your chin. Seasons are memories and summer threatens to hoard the majority. Winter is quiet. Winter forces everyone inside while it shimmers and dazzles from the other side of the window. While the company is pleasant, it doesn't always allow for a quiet moment to curl up somewhere and write without interruption. So rather than type out a witty, informative, or remotely substantial blog, I invite you to experience my week of winter.





Baked apples with fresh cream. This is how you winter.
“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again."― Lewis Carroll,  Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass  

The Weight of Words

I’m still fighting off the word lag associated with finishing up a novel in a short amount of time. It’s not an official diagnosis, but I consulted Dr. Google, and I’m pretty sure that’s what I have. It’s similar to jet lag, but rather than crossing time zones at a high rate of speed, you pass through worm and plot holes. Someone really needs to write a wiki page for that condition. Writers everywhere will thank you.
Lest you think the Ransom Series is doomed to perish in premature abandonment, here is a pic I snapped minutes after writing the final words to Rise of the Seer:
I know. It’s a little crazy, but the feeling of accomplishment temporarily nulls your senses as you bask in word counts and everything that isn’t touched by the ominous red squiggles of spellcheck. (300 pages=a plethora of squiggles.) Speaking of word counts, let’s talk about words for a moment. Behold, my glorious transition. Since childhood I’ve been familiar with the phrase, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” (That paraphrase is from Tappy's Chicks: and Other Links Between Nature and Human Nature, by Mrs. George Cupples, 1872.) I say, poppycock to that whole notion. While I understand the idea is encouraging someone to let words roll off of you, rather than react in a physical altercation, I still don’t agree with the sentiment. 
Words have significant weight and value. They can make a day better or crush a heart. Words can draw people in and encourage them or they can wound viciously beyond repair. In short, what we say matters greatly. I’ve been thinking about that this week as articles have circulated about how people have lost jobs over what’s been said on social media or how some find popular literary works to be abusive and offensive. Whether they are spoken, written, signed, sung, painted or written across the sky, words are objects with remarkable substance and can stay with us forever. My hope is that there may be some word somewhere in my writing that would be a little breath of fresh air for you as a reader. I hope that there’s something in the world and characters I’m creating that will make you smile and give you a moment of happiness. Because I understand that the words we use to tell our stories, fictional or not, are each important and have the ability to impact the way we feel and respond to those around us.
Maybe today we can each choose to use our words to spread a little bit of beauty or happiness. I'll go first. Thank you, my fellow reader, for taking the time to read this post. I'm thankful for you and I truly hope that there is a moment in your day that puts a smile on your face. One final thought-*what happened when the bloodhound wrote his autobiography? It got on the best smeller list.






*I didn't make this up. To see more click here.