You'll Never Believe What I Did Next!

~ By Vonnie Davis (Hereafter known as Cranky Author, or CA)

For months I've fussed about my editor at Random House wanting to change my voice and my feeble attempts at trying to march lock-step in line with her changing demands. And you all know I don't march, I tend to schlep, stopping here and there to admire the flowers or stare off at a cloud formation in the sky. No, I don't do marching. Heck, it's all I can do to manage normal.

Trying on hats in a souvenir shop. Is it me? I didn't think so either.

My editor emailed to ask if I was happy writing my bear shifters. She knew how upset I'd been when they rejected MR. OH, a romance I'd written specifically to her criteria--like a literary pharmacist filling their prescriptions. I replied that I was. I was in my comfort zone of the dual personas and the delightful Scottish burr. I also included an excerpt of Kendric as he leaves Mathe Bay, home of the original series, to take the ferry to Sonas Isle, locale for this new series. Warning:  Even with Scottish spelling, some words may offend and, for that, I'm sorry.

Unlocking his SUV, Kendric belted himself in once he settled behind the steering wheel. That’s when he allowed the vision of Jaimie to surface, just as she had so many nights in his dreams. Long, blond hair the color of honey that she usually wore in a braid. Green eyes like Highland pines. Wide hips the way he liked them with an arse that bore watching as it swayed from side to side when she walked. She was a bonny lass and, damn, she could kiss, too. His kilt tented a wee bit at the memory of her lush body flush against his. Hell, he’d better think on something else.

Yer awfully quiet, bear. The last time ye were this silent was after ye heard Ronan’s bear had picked a name for himself and ye got a wild hair up yer hairy arse to have one of yer own.

Kendric started his vehicle and eased out of the parking lot.

Aye, and a fine name I picked, too.

‘Tis nay name for a feckin’ bear. Ronan’s bear picked Magnus, a tough name. It shows strength. Kendric checked both ways for traffic before pulling onto the road, making a right at the second traffic light that would take him to Galswren where the dock for the ferry to Sonas Isle was located.

Mine is just as good.  To be named after Maizie’s ferocious dog was an honor. We fished for many a salmon together.

I repeat, ʼtis nay name for a feckin’ bear. ʼTis why I refuse to use it. Kendric’s temper rose. He’d put up with his bear’s foul mood for days. As soon as Creighton had talked to Kendric about leaving his job as a police detective in Mathe Bay to replace the current sheriff on the remote island of Sonas Isle, his bear had made every waking and sleeping minute of his life bloody hell. While he ken Jaimie moved to the island after inheriting her aunt's property, his bear had nay idea until Creighton mentioned it just now when he'd said his farewells.

Ye ken Jaimie is the woman I claimed for ye back when ye first met her. If ye behave yerself like the proper gentleman I ken ye to be, ye can woo her and win her heart.

Kendric scoffed as he turned onto the road leading toward the ferry’s dock. Och, as if I’d take fokin’ romantic advice from a bear named Spot.

The editor replied she didn't like it.  She didn't want the human and the bear talking to each other. She didn't want the bear to have his own pov. I responded it was "just like a woman trying on a dress in a store. The feminine side of thinks I love how this looks on me! The practical side responds Do you really need it? Have you looked at the price tag? One woman with two opposing opinions arguing within her.

"I also thought you were allowing my creativity free reign on this series. You gave me a list of criteria and I've complied with them all. Do you micromanage all your authors this way or only me?" Yeah, I was a couple shades beyond livid and my fingers were running amuck over the keyboard.

She asked me if I wanted out of the contract.

I replied that I felt it would be for the best. That writing no longer held any joy for me. I was eight chapters into this book only to find out, to make her happy, most of it would have to go.

Remember the "Cranky Author" moniker at the beginning of this post? Well, there's a reason for that. A few years ago, I fired my agent. This time I fired my publisher, the biggest one in the world. I don't know if that makes me brave or dumb as a rock.

We did part on good terms. She told me I was more than free to submit again if "the right story for the market" came along. Since she doesn't like humor. I don't see that happening. I have a six month period from the release of the final book of each series before I can self-publish another book in the series or use any of the characters I created for the series. No problem there. Since none of the Sonas Isle Shifter books were released yet, I was free to publish at will. 

So, I was mentally prepared to go completely Indie. Being able to write what I wanted the way I wanted felt incredibly good. I'd have a new label: Hybrid Author. Not to be confused with Cranky Author.

Then I got an email from an editor at another publisher. A couple months ago, after Random House had rejected MR. OH, I'd sent three chapters and a synopsis to a couple other pubs. I was in an "I'll show them" frame of mind. A few days later as my spirits sank, I figured they wouldn't like it either and I'd put it out of my mind. Now, one of then wanted a full.

But there was no full to send her. I was so depressed and doubtful of myself as a writer, I'd laid it aside to work on the new shifter series. What had I done? What writer in his or her right mind submits a book that's not even a third written? Don't answer that!

So, I swallowed what little pride I had left and responded to the editor, telling her I had placed the book aside to work on a bearshifter series. If she didn't mind waiting, I'd gladly shift projects to deliver MR. OH to her. She replied she didn't care about waiting; she just wanted to read the entire book.

Okay, leave Scotland and drop the lyrical burr. Land in Philly ASAP. Go from writing in third person to first and get this puppy done. And if she doesn't want it, no biggie, I'll just self-publish it. More and more I feel like my author's bio. "Vonnie likens herself to a freshly baked croissant: Warm, crusty, wrinkled, and a tad flaky--best served with strong coffee."

www.vonniedavis.com