Writing is not for weenies

 

 

Do you remember the first time in your life you got super excited over something? Or the first time you felt utter disappointment? I remember my late grandmother with tenderness; she always had candies for me, even if she hid them from my mom. I know what you’re saying: that the sweet old lady could be to blame for my horrible eating habits. But back then, such things like bad eating habits didn’t exist, and if they did, they didn’t have names. Or maybe they did. I don’t remember. Hey, I was five – cut me some slack.

My first truly meaningful sadness was losing my father when I was six. I didn’t know much of what went on…just that all of a sudden, everyone at school was asking me how I was doing and how my mom was doing. Then my male cousins broke the news the worst way possible, telling me my dad actually wasn’t returning from his trip to Europe. Ever.

Anyway, don’t reach for the Kleenex just yet, folks. The worst is over – or I hope it is, as I try to make this about writing. Yet flashes from my childhood keep coming back.

I found a picture of mine when I was five or six, a time in between the sweetness of the forbidden candies and the harshness of real life. I frown at the camera and my hand covers a piece of paper. That’s Exhibit A I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

Fast-forward well over two decades to the present, and I’m happy to say I’d be smiling if someone took a picture of me at my work desk – as long as I looked decent…which means, of course, out of sweatpants and into a slimming black dress, with my hair blown out and a hint of make up on my face. J Wouldn’t that be swell?

The publishing business sometimes brings us candies, and other times, bad news. For me, it has a lot to do with giving up control. The minute you write a book, it’s yours. Then, when you share it with the world, it’s still yours, but you’ve given everyone the right to criticize it – some will like it, some will hate it, some will love it, and some won’t even bother to read.

And though I’m obviously barely a freshman at being published, I’m certainly a senior in dreaming about it. It might have taken time, but don’t we value things more when they don’t come easily? Well, that’s why I try to tell myself, anyway. :)

So when you don’t place in contests, or when you receive rejection letters, one-star reviews or discouragement from the people who should do the exact contrary – such as your family members, spouses, kids, cousins, or the old lady next door who keeps asking you to babysit her cat when she goes out of town – remember: Writing is not for weenies. It’s a craft, it’s a dream, it’s a business. Work on your craft, keep on dreaming, and turn it into a profitable business.

Allow yourself to feel bitter, jealous, insecure, and pissed off for no longer than an hour. (Okay, a day, if you got really bad news.) Then, bring your chin up and your fingers on the keyboard. And if all else fails, you can always turn to candy.

Until later,

Carmen :)

A Vengeful Affair Giveaway Extravaganza!

***UPDATE: even if A Vengeful Affair doesn't reach the minimum goal, I'll still give away one $25 gift card on Monday, October 15th. So please help promote anyway and leave a comment below! Have a great weekend! :)***

 

 

I’m celebrating three months since A Vengeful Affair was released, and it’s still a Top 100 bestseller on Amazon Kindle’s Romance Series list! Thank you to my readers!

If A Vengeful Affair continues to climb, I’ll be giving away up to five $25 gift cards (Amazon, Barnes & Noble or iTunes—winner’s choice!). That’s up to $125 worth of prizes, and your help will dictate how many gift cards will be given out.

So get your sneakers on and let’s climb! A Vengeful Affair is currently at #73, but we can do better!

How can you help?

ü  Copy and paste this post on your blog, and promote it on Facebook or Twitter.

ü  Buy the book if you enjoy sexy romances. J

ü  “Like” my page on Amazon. Tagging would be nice, too!

ü  Leave an honest review on Amazon, Goodreads or Barnes & Noble.

ü  Scream from your window! Well, I’m grateful for the yell, but please be social media savvy. J

 

Prizes:

If/when A Vengeful Affair reaches #60, I’ll give away one $25 gift card.

If/when A Vengeful Affair reaches #50, I’ll give away another $25 gift card.

If/when A Vengeful Affair reaches #35, I’ll give away an additional two $25 gift cards.

If/when A Vengeful Affair reaches #25, I’ll give away one more $25 gift card.

 

Please make sure you enter a comment below when you’ve done any of the things listed above for a chance to win :)

The contest will close on October 15th, 2012 at midnight CDT.

Let’s get the word out!

Until later,

Carmen

Gym Confessions: Week Three

Gym Confessions: Week Three

 

I knew there was something off when I went to the cardio area and the other thick-boned girl was still there. Why was she still hanging around? We had this unspoken agreement for one of us to leave whenever the other arrived, as neither of us wanted to draw attention. Yet, there she was, and with a shake of my head I got on with my day suspecting – no, knowing – the third week was going to suck.

Boy, was I right! My P.T. showed me a machine that could have a supporting role in a James Bond movie and asked me, “How do you tuck in your stomach?”

“I wear Spanx,” I said without delay.

She sighed. (Yes, poor thing.)

I asked her if there was a way I could keep my butt and just lose weight in my problem areas (stomach, arms, thighs). This might come as a shock, but there are parts of my body I’d like to keep as is – my derriere, for instance. Wouldn’t that be swell? I visualized myself as a Latin version of Jessica Rabbit.

As it turns out, I have to lose weight ALL AROUND, and tons of it, first. THEN I start to tone EVERYTHING. Phew. That’s a lot of work, folks. I could be writing, working, talking to someone on the phone, or fishing. I’ve never fished a day in my life, but if it kept me from working out, I’d be happy to give it a swing…although I doubt I’d be quiet enough. Okay, so with that in mind, I decided once again to give this workout torture a try.

By the way, I noticed on my stats page that  a large part of my blog audience (yes, all ten of you) is from Russia. Isn’t that awesome? I actually got this email from this Russian girl, Anna, who was looking for American workout tips and somehow ended up on my blog. Is that ironic or what? Anyway, she read my stuff and liked it, and was sweet to say hi. So since Anna was so nice to go through all that trouble, I thought it’d be only fair to share the only thing I’ve learned so far about working out. Are you ready?

If it’s not hurting, it’s not working. This is from someone who did stretches today with something called foam rollers. They look like those colorful, cute spaghetti-shaped floaters kids play with at the pool. But once you slide them underneath your knees and start rolling (slowly, of course), they become a nightmare. J Pretty much every time I’m stretching my arms and legs and it seems too easy, I know it is because I’m not “pressing enough” or “stretching enough.” When I stretch the right way, yes, it hurts. Just when I work out the right way (not slacking and actually increasing the speed and incline on the treadmill), it hurts.

Now it’s time to go back to my writing, where my characters will do another type of working out. J

Until later,

Carmen

Have a heart, vote for me :)

A Vengeful Affair won a five heart review from The Romance Studio. YAY!  

And that review is up for voting on The Romance Studio site http://www.theromancestudio.com/5heart_form.php

If you like it, please vote for A Vengeful Affair. It’s really easy and it only takes a few seconds. The winner gets their cover, buy link and a review snippet on their front door page the following week along with promotion on all of our social media outlets.

Voting will end next Monday, October 8^th .

Thank you in advance J

Hope you’re all having a fantastic week!

Until later,

Carmen J

Gym Confessions: Week 1 & 2

 

            Disclaimer: For easy reference, please check my early post about my life-changing decision to look 80 by the time I’m 40. Wait. To look 40 by the time I’m 80.

 

            Thanks to the outpouring support of you, my lovelies, and a full-length mirror in my closet, I bit the bullet (and it tasted yucky! I must stop eating everything I see. Damn it.) and started to work with a personal trainer! She’s super sweet and laughs at my jokes – and for that alone, she should get a raise!

            I gotta say, I feel good about it. For four years I paid the gym membership and never really worked out on a consistent basis. But, see, just the fact I paid made me feel like one step closer. Kinda like, I was paying, so if I DID want to go, you know, I could. I always felt one step ahead of the people who didn’t even have the membership. I know, I’m an illogical bullshitter. But with a personal trainer, there’s no denial.

            In my first week, we did a combo of stretches and cardio. I never really do stretches on my own, because in my gym the stretching area is located next to the stairs and in front of a gazillion machines and I feel really exposed. Isn’t that weird? I don’t really care what people think in general, but I HATE to stretch and do all of those things. I get it that no one is looking, but still. I gotta say, though, that they did make a difference. I felt lighter and more prepared for you know, all the suffering that Ellie (my name for the elliptical machine) had for me.

            Week two was ALL about Ellie and her friends. There she stood, waiting for me, all polished, and there wasn’t a drop of sweat on her. But, folks, I thrived. At every step, I closed my eyes and imagined Ryan Gosling waiting for me on the other side. At one point, my trainer asked me to pay attention because I almost slipped off. Whew.

            Well, bear with me. Here I am working out at last, surrounded by skinny folks only. There is the occasional meatier gym member, but whenever I’m coming, she’s leaving and vice versa. I think that’s what the Universe intends, just so we have an equilibrium of fat mass and cholesterol levels. So yeah, I need some fantasies.

          Skinny folks, I gotta say – I have a lot of respect for you. No, really. If I ever turned into one of you, I would totally be the nasty one who says she never works out and eats everything and just has a good metabolism – even if I worked my ass off to be skinny. Yes, I know. I’m petty and evil. The world is probably a better place if I continue to rock as a curvy writer instead.

            On that note, I’ll do some stretches (now that no one is looking) and start writing.

           Until later,

           Carmen :)

 

           

Pantser or Plotter: Do We Have to Choose?

 

 

            This week, the meeting of the Austin chapter of the Romance Writers of America had a talented guest speaker: Author Kathleen Baldwin. Her presentation, “The Secret Life of Pantsers,” rocked.

            Ms. Baldwin talked about the myths involving pantsers and plotters. For instance, it’s natural to think a character-driven author is a pantser and a plot-driven author is a plotter. However, according to what she told us, a pantser can be plot-driven, just as a plotter can be character-driven. The pantser is the brave adventurer and the plotter, the brilliant planner. The main difference is that the pantser will take failure over predictability, always needing a challenge and not feeling compelled to tell a story he or she already knows intimately. Meanwhile, a plotter— the master of his or her world, and a planner—values success over risky adventures. Ms. Baldwin also gave us examples on how the tendencies to become a pantser or a plotter are deeply seated in our brains.

            Our speaker administered a quiz to help each one of us find out if we are a plotter or a pantser. My result was that I present characteristics from both sides, although I’m leaning more toward pantser. I think it’s true. I can’t go completely pantser on a story, and my fingers itch to touch the keyboard way before I figure everything out.

            I guess I’m in the middle. I let the characters speak to me, yes, but I like to have the main turning points and black moment roughly sketched before I start writing. I love how I’m slowly but finally learning my own writing process. I usually start with an idea, then play with it for a couple of weeks (without taking notes). Then I write it down, and start writing my novel. I usually send my first chapter to my CP, who will tell me honestly if it’s a horrible idea or not. Then, if she doesn’t think it’s a horrendous idea, I pursue it and write a dirty draft until the seventh or eighth chapter. Then I go back and start polishing. Then I pick up on the rest of the manuscript. And edit. Again. And again. Phew. I’m sure there are easier ways out there, but I have to get that far to get to know my characters better. And usually by chapter seven I’m itching to go back and start editing (and make changes based on the other things that happened). I guess the pantser spends more time editing, and the plotter plotting?

            Anyway. Very interesting stuff.

            How about you? Are you a pantser, a plotter or a combination of the two? What is your process of writing?

In Which I’m 63 Years Old (and Four Months)

 

 

I have always thought of myself as an old soul. I’ve always enjoyed vintage French music, going out at night and getting drunk was never my thing, and yes, I had arthritis at twenty-seven.

Well, last week I did a fit point assessment test at my gym. Basically, based on a few tests, they tell you how old your body REALLY is. The suspense nearly killed me. 50? 80? I settled for 60. Well, friends, the verdict is out: my body is 63 years and 4 months old. Yes.

I’m 30, and my body is going all Benjamin Button on me!

Anyway, now I have the backup I’ve always needed. It turns out that I’m an old soul AND an old body. So the question is whether I should just enjoy my twilight years or go against nature and work out to try to shed some years.

The overly Botoxed personal trainer didn’t quite appreciate my humor when I asked her if I could get a senior citizen discount for the sessions. But, c’mon, take it from someone who’s clearly a prodigy at aging —I’ve always wanted to stay ahead of the game, so at least bone-structure wise I’m DECADES ahead of any of my friends. I’m probably even ahead of my mom, because she’s always exercised. Boo!

Although I love the practicality of a sedentary life, I have thought long and hard and have decided to take some personal trainer sessions, so I’d at least LEARN how to use machines to strength my muscles and keep my joints from deteriorating. Maybe by the time I’m 40, I can resemble a well-aged 80 year old. No, folks, my expectations aren’t high.

Plus, on the upside (yes, I always look for one), I’m sure the sessions will give me enough material to blog for the next few months. LOL. No, really! J

Anyway, that’s all! Off to the Elliptical now (I’ll be calling her Ellie in a couple of weeks. We’ll be good friends—until Ellie starts to bore the hell out of me).

Until later,

Carmen :P