Upcoming: Rites of Ascension II

A few people have been asking me about Rites of Ascension II.

First of all, I have to say THANK YOU to all of you who have read The Path of the Sword. I hope you enjoyed it. For those of you who haven't read it, here's the link on Amazon. (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

Now, enough shilling. Back to the original question. Book two of the Rites of Ascension trilogy, tentatively called Blood of War, is close. I've finished the third draft (or is it the fourth? It's all a blur) and it's now in the hands of the proof-readers. Once they've finished giving me feedback (read: tearing it to pieces), I'll revise it one last time.

Then it's just the last details.

So, in answer to the question: It's still tentative (as you can probably tell by the lack of an exact date) but if everything goes well, I'm hoping for mid- to late August.

Of course, the closer it gets, the better I'll be able to narrow it down for you. I'll post it here first.

Thanks again to all of you! Cheers!

Thoughts On Reviews, aka An Important Conclusion

I've come to a conclusion. I think it's an important one. No, I know it's an important one.

Recently, The Path of the Sword got a three star review. This may sound strange but, after back to back to back five star reviews, I was distraught. I really was. Why strange, you ask? What's the big deal, you wonder? After all, three stars isn't that bad. It's not like it was a one star. It's not like the reviewer said the book was complete trash and buying it was a waste of money and time. In fact, the reviewer said the writing was good, that I know how to paint a picture. His main beef was that he thought my book was too long, too wordy. So, not a bad review. Not a great review, but not bad.

I got to thinking about what the reviewer said. I started trying to think about how I would incorporate his suggestions into my writing. I wrote a few pages, and I kept asking myself if this fit the bill, if I was in fact writing more efficiently.

It was about this point that I began to realize that I was doubting myself. I was second-guessing every word that I wrote. I agonized over every one of my decisions. When I went back and re-read the last few days of work, I noticed a few of things:

1. I was writing a lot less than usual. About two-thirds less.
2. My writing was flimsy. It had no feel, no voice. It sounded more like a history textbook than a novel.
3. It was no longer true to the story. This, to me, is probably the worst thing that could have happened.

I thought about that for a while and here is where I finally caught a glimpse of my big conclusion. I was no longer writing for myself; I was writing for someone else. I was, in a way, writing by committee. It showed. I was trying to write in a style that was not my own, and it showed. Those pages that I read back weren't even my writing.

What's the answer? Getting reviews is a fact of life for any writer. There will be good ones and there will be bad ones. The trick is to not allow them to dictate how I write.

I write in a particular style. In time, as I gain experience, I'm certain my writing will evolve. Perhaps I'll get better--I definitely hope so; I don't want to stagnate. I want to try new things. I want to see myself grow as a writer.

But that has to happen in its own time. I can't allow someone else to dictate a timeline for me. Otherwise, I'm forcing it, trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

Reviews are what they are. And primarily what they are is for the readers. If a writer takes a review--good or bad--too strongly to heart, the story will suffer for it.

Lesson learned.

Family Life

Okay.
The kids are in bed.
Right.
My nasty case of bronchitis has now calmed itself to the occasional fit of coughing and I can actually smell things (food good; dirty diapers baaaad). My lovely Cori is quietly watching news.
Awesome.
I have time now, right now, to either write a little or maybe promote myself a little on-line.
Perfect.
You know what? I'm bone tired. I'm seeing two of every letter I'm typing (I hope you're not!). My children have run me ragged. Who would have thought a baby with legs shorter than my forearm could run so fast? The only one in this house who seems able to keep up with the baby is my four year old daughter.
After we got home from work today, the normal rush was on: dinner, clean-up bath. Followed by a little play time for the kids. Each time they fell silent for more than three seconds, Cori and I exchanged a horrified look and mounted a frantic search for them to find out exactly what it was they were doing.
I'm exhausted.
Book two of Rites of Ascension is sitting there waiting for beta readers ("Honey?!?").
Book three is coming along fine; I'm a little behind schedule but not as far back as I thought I might be so really I'm ahead of schedule at being behind schedule...

I think I'm taking a night off.

Say good night, Gracie.
Good night, Gracie.