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

Thoughts from Stacy Holmes, Editor of Honky Tonk Hearts series.

First, let me say Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms, grandmothers, aunts, caregivers and really any female who influences the lives of children both young and old.  My mom read a lot and that of course is where I get my love of books.  We’ve branched out on our choices of topics and genres, but it is still something we connect with today.

I’d also like to start by thanking Vonnie and the Roses of the Prose for inviting me over today.  The only problem is that Vonnie didn’t give me interview questions; instead, she gave me almost free reign to write about any number of things.  Hmm, I wonder if she realized how chatty I can be.

One thing Vonnie did mentioned caught my eye though.  She made reference to a ‘sweet list’ as in, how do you get on the sweet list, whether a series sweet list or an editor’s sweet list.   Well, it’s easier than you think…if you are willing to put in the work.  Simply put, do your homework.


Since it’s nearly Mother’s Day, let’s go back to a childhood memory.  You know how your mother always asked, “Have you done your homework?”…and somehow she could tell from the look on your face if you had or not?  Well, an editor has that same ability, we can tell who’s done their homework and who hasn’t, and that goes a long way to your chance to make the sweet list.


Let’s start from the beginning:  Homework…studying…study your craft. 

Take the time to read books from the genre you want to write and to read various books on writing. I say various because not all writing books work for all writers.  There are many good ones out there, but you need to find the ones that speak to you, that you can relate to and understand in a way that makes sense to you.  For some, that means more technical books on grammar etc., while for others, a more biographical outline from an author’s point of view works better.  But the more you read, the more you pay attention and find what you like and don’t like, and the more you end up finding your own voice.

The next step is to write, and just keep on writing.  Every story, every project, every trial and error, every critique or rejection teaches you more and more.  This includes finishing a story.  Why I say this is that a lot of writers work so hard polishing and perfecting the first three chapters in overexcitement to submit something.  The problem here is that stories have these funny ways of going off track, of changing, growing, dropping off here and overcompensating there as you write that first or even second draft.  But by doing this, you are cheating yourself, and your story. 

You see, you really never know if a story is going to work unless you write the whole thing. Only then can you see the full scope and any holes that need filling.  A story can take so many twists and turns along the way, how will you truly know all the story can be until you discover each thread, each path that takes you to the happy ever after?  Not to mention all you learn about the craft and yourself along the way.

Trust me, nothing worse than getting a great partial submitted and eagerly requesting the full manuscript only to have the rest of the story falls apart because it was rushed or not given as much attention as the first three chapters.

Now, once you do get your story written, that is the time to start the next part of your homework….studying publishers.  This is VERY important.  Read ALL the submission guidelines to the various publishing houses you are interested in.  It is hard to get on a romance editor’s sweet list when you submit a contemporary intrigue story that has lots of adventure, but no love story. Or you submit a story with no faith element to a Christian publishing house.  Believe me, it happens, more often than you would think. 

Along with this is studying their basic submission instructions, too.  For instance, if the submission guidelines say a manuscript should be double spaced, Times New Roman 12 font with one inch margins then that is what you should send in. 

I really don’t like to use the term “test” but in effect, that is a bit of what you could consider submission guidelines.  For the most part, they are there to keep all manuscript formats uniform, but at the same time, it is a small test to see if the author did their homework, the simplest of homework at that.  *Raising my hand* I admit it, if I request a manuscript, I often give a general format I prefer in my request email.  And if I get a manuscript back in a weird font with two inch margins etc, well, it definitely gives me pause. For I am then concerned that if the author didn’t follow my basic instructions for formatting, then how are they going to handle more in-depth edits?

Lastly, when you’ve done all your homework, the best way to get on my sweet list is to capture me, right from the 1^st paragraph.  Put me right in the action from the get-go and you’ll get my attention pretty quick.

Take the Honky Tonk Hearts series that we’ve just launched at the Wild Rose Press.  How did these authors stand out amongst so many submissions? How did they get on my sweet list? For exactly the reasons above….they did their homework, they studied their craft and proofed their work, they read the submission guidelines for both the publishing house and the specific series, they asked questions to be sure of the HTH guidelines and they queried and submitted as requested….then they captured me, each and every one right from the get go. 

For example, take Vonnie’s submission, here’s how she started her story…

Win Fairchild leaned his low-rider onto the gravel parking lot of the Lonesome Steer on a cloud of dust and a tank of fumes. He eased his modified Harley to a stop next to the door of the honky tonk and stood. After more than five hundred miles of bone-jarring road, Win stretched, trying to work the kinks from his body.

 A couple came barreling out of the bar, startling Win who pivoted to nod in greeting. The man charging ahead, red-faced with clenched fists, was clearly pissed. The woman behind him carried her own dose of attitude on shoulders muscled from hard work or hours spent in a gym.

“I’m tired of you huntin’ me down, Evie, embarrassin’ me in front of my buddies. You act more like my wife than my sister.”

“And you act more like an irresponsible child than my older brother. Grow up. I need help at the ranch.” She planted her hands on jean-clad hips. “Dooley Caldwell, don’t you walk away from me while I’m talking to you!” Her brother raised an offensive finger over his head and kept striding toward a Jeep.

The woman swept her eyes toward Win, as if she suddenly realized he stood next to her, taking in the heated exchange.

Violet.

Violet eyes that tugged him into their depths.

His dust-covered tongue rolled into a tight knot.

“Well, what the hell are you staring at?”

Good God, her eyes were like magnets. “Those beautiful eyes of yours.” Win winced at the lack of polish in his remark. Damn if he didn’t sound like an awkward teenager.

The dark-haired woman blinked those mesmerizing eyes and then jerked her pointy chin to the helmet under his arm. “Hunh. Just what the world needs, Don Juan on a Harley.” She turned on her heel and marched toward an old red Nova, the paint splotchy and faded.

Win pursed his lips and exhaled a long breath. He did like a spirited woman. With her violet eyes, nine feet of attitude crammed into a petite frame and a make-his-palms-itch-to-touch behind, she was one fine package.

To his surprise and amusement, she crawled head first through the open window of her car, that world-class ass shimmying as she wiggled her way onto her driver’s seat. What a sight. He shifted his stance to accommodate his body’s reaction.

Her car door must be broken, and he briefly wondered why her brother didn’t fix it for her. Just then the Wrangler eased to a stop in front of Win.

“Stop starin’ at my sister.” Dooley Caldwell peeled out leaving Win in a shower of dust and gravel.

His gaze slid to Evie backing her rusty car away from the Lonesome Steer. He shook his head, hoping to erase the whirlwind sensation one encounter with the feminine dynamo created. Maybe moving here held more possibilities than he planned.

In her synopsis, included within the body of the email--as instructed--she gave me a man on a Harley, a wounded Vet /cowboy, and a heroine with a saucy attitude. Who could resist?

Here is the Blurb for Those Violet Eyes --

Evie Caldwell hoards every penny for her escape from the servitude life created by a worthless brother and the endless work on a ranch that will never be hers. The last thing she wants is a muscled man with a macho Marine attitude complicating her life. But, oh, how that man can make her insides do the twitchy thing.

Wounded vet, Win Fairchild, returns to Texas to heal, find a piece of his soul and open a ranch for amputee children. Finding someone to love was not on his agenda. Nor was dealing with a wildcat, until she captures his heart with those violet eyes.

But now that he knows what he wants, can Win convince Evie to stay in Texas—and his bed?

The series was fairly open for setting so long as one pivotal scene took place at the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk, so I was looking to see the various ways authors interpreted this.  And no, not every submission contracted was perfect from the start and not all were from established authors.  I asked for various revisions from a number of them before contracting.

When I asked for revisions, each author did her homework yet again. I saw the effort from each one, that strive to be the best they could and create the best story they could. Each author was open and willing to work to bring out the most in their stories and the series, and that also reflected highly with me.

Vonnie here to share an example: Near the end of my story, I mentioned, in Evie’s point of view, a rough night Win had. Dreams of the day his Humvee ran over an IED had him trashing and crying out in his sleep. Stacy said she thought it would be stronger if I wrote this scene in Win’s pov. She wanted the dream told in detail.

My stomach tensed. How…how was I to do that? How could I write such a detailed scene with any authority? My son’s best friend is a Colonel in the Green Berets. I emailed him, asking how traumatic IED explosions were. What had he witnessed serving in Iraq? I used his reply as a basis for my new chapter. I’m comfortable with the realism portrayed by my efforts. But I will admit to some “OMG, I can’t do this” moments.

95% of the time I end my email notes to authors with “As always, any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to let me know.”  And I mean this, every time to every one.  I’m here to help, to guide and to bring out all a story can be and all an author has for that story.  

Uh, yeah, I did mention I can be chatty, didn’t I? But I hope, like a mother, I gave some advice that you can use…and like the mother I am, I wish only the best for each and every writer and a great, lose-yourself-in-the-story for every reader. 

And on that note, I have a special little something to give away today--a special Honky Tonk Hearts envelope filled with a Wild Rose Press coupon, Honky Tonk Hearts bookmark, magnet and other fun stuff from the series and authors.  I’ll be randomly picking a commenter from today’s post soooooooo, as always, any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll do my best to answer them here or feel free to contact me at stacy@thewildrosepress.com.