I’m a Violet of the Month! My cover is a pin-up at Shrinking Violets. How cool is that? If you’re good at public speaking, go over and enter the advice contest from The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. No, seriously. I know there’s a Don Knotts fan out there somewhere.
And whoa, check out Varian Johnson’s new cover for his book, SAVING MADDIE. It’s about, and I quote:
- A boy named Joshua
- A girl named Madeline
- Lust
- Love
- Proverbs Chapter 4 vs The Parable of the Lost Sheep
- José Cuervo
- Coffee
- Blackberries
All that wrapped up in that cover. Intriguing!!!
At Wordlings, Justina is coming up with some really neat ideas for independent bookstores to do to enrich their communities and become a part of the neighborhood that no one can do without. Her first idea is splendid; I expect the others will be, too. I love that she just randomly comes up with these things.
Because my writing sister, Sara continues to excel in awesome, she tossed out this quick tidbit to the world: according to a Texas psychologist, writing about yourself for fifteen minutes a day can heal your whole life. Seriously. And who couldn’t use a better heart rate and a clearer psyche?
Speaking of your psyche, how are ya? I’m …resting. For another day or so. I’m reading-reading-reading, and should soon be posting a few reviews over at FW. I’m deciding what project to start on next — and laughing at myself for feeling so nervy during my enforced rest period.
Most of the time I feel like I’m interrupting myself. I didn’t realize this happened to other people until I read about Laini’s struggles not to give in to the “newts,” which are “new weird things” that sort of pop into her head while she’s midway through a work in progress. Sadly, I have those. I have to stop everything, write them down, get them out of my head, and then get back to business or they will keep nagging me, keep nibbling on the edge of my consciousness. I have so many of those it would be easy to just leap into a new project every ten minutes. Fortunately, once they’re written out, I can set them aside. They lie in wait for such a time as this…
So, should it be angry Justin, on a plane with his sister, being sent to his father’s new townhouse, the father who has humiliated and embarrassed the family, and the church community, and whom he hopes to never, never, NEVER see again? Or should I lay off of family stories for now, and leap off into science fiction? Either way — I’m going to have to interrupt myself again, as soon as my agent is finished with his first pass over my manuscript. And then the revisions will begin. And go on. And probably on.
You see why I’m reading and writing reviews at the moment, right?
…And writing poetry. Three stanzas down, three and an envoi to go…