1...What are you thankful for this year?

That my family is healthy, and we're all happy -- for the most part.

2...Do you have a Thanksgiving tradition?

I bring the Tofurkey.

3...Are you cooking or going somewhere for dinner?

We're going to my mother-in-law's, and one of my daughters will be there, as will my son, who's here from Colorado, and my grandson. The "women-folk" will cook together. 8^) There will be much yapping of dogs since my MIL is dogsitting for my SIL's 2 mini dauchsunds, she has 2 mini dauchsunds of her own, and my daughter is brining her german short haired pointer puppy. Oy.

4...Do you have the 'traditional' Thanksgiving dinner, or do you buck tradition with something different?

Traditional, but my husband and I don't eat turkey. We bring Tofurkey and a vegetarian gravy. I made my knock-out cranberry sauce and I'll be making steamed broccoli with cheese sauce.

5...A food you couldn't do without for the holiday?

My MIL's sweet potatoes.

6..With only a month to go before Christmas, have you started your Christmas shopping?

No. We won't be doing much gift-giving this year.

So how about everyone else? I'd love to see your answers to these questions. Have a very happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

What's Up Wednesday

I haven't added a word to the WIP this week due to having company, but I haven't stopped thinking about upcoming scenes. And there have been some new developments with my spawnsters, who are half human and half demon. The spawnster who ran in gangs after being thrown out by their human families when they started showing demon features got pretty tough. Not all spawnsters joined gangs and became criminals, but those who did took on some nasty habits.

Homeless spawnsters, gangs in particular, often went without food. While I was exploring my characters' backstories, these criminal gang members told me they sometimes killed humans out of desperation just to feed themselves. Makes me queasy to think about, but it also makes sense considering how oppressed these people were. A spawnster's survival instinct is very strong.

Many gang members left their criminal lives to become productive members of the Hellspawn community, but they never lost their taste for long pig, or human meat. The less savory Hellspawn dine on humans in secret.

I'm wondering now if this will be too gross and intense for readers. The story itself is not terribly dark, though there are dark themes and it has both moments of grittiness and moments of humour. That's why I'm blogging about it. Is cannabalism stepping over the line of acceptability? It will figure into the plot, have dangerous consequences, and I have an idea for turning the tables. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Teaser Tuesday - Mystic Taxi

The following is an excerpt from my steampunk urban fantasy work in progress, Mystic Taxi:

*******************************

Henry muttered a curse and grabbed the latch on the trunk to give it a tug. It flew open, only to slam shut again.

That's when Henry heard the rapid tap of footsteps coming up behind him.

Before he could turn around, a sharp pain hit him between the shoulder blades, then another hit him in the temple. He went down like a felled tree. Flashes of light sparked behind his eyes. He blinked against the invading darkness, and from his vantage point behind Mystic's rear tire, he saw two slim-booted feet jog beside the cab.

His sack of redwood boxes. It was gone.

Mystic's back door swung open to slam into Henry's assailant, knocking him off his feet. He landed on his back with a grunt, but scrambled quickly to his knees. Henry was just as fast.

The park wavered in front of Henry's eyes and the ground seemed to wobble once he gained his feet. He touched the back of his head and his fingers came away bloody. "Hey!" he yelled at the thief.

The man staggered, clutching the sack. His hat slipped off his head and… and a long braid of blond hair tumbled free. The guy who had conked him on the noggin was a woman!

"Hey!" Henry called again, rushing forward, but his stomach lurched and his eyes crossed. Mystic started her engine and flung open the driver's side door for him to get in. Henry grabbed for it, but slid clumsily to his knees. Too dizzy. And the woman was getting away!

She ran across the street, tossing a look over her shoulder at Henry. Her dark eyes were defiant, angry. She'd succeeded in taking what she wanted. Damn it!

The long braid loosened and blond hair trailed free behind her, but a single swath of it glowed vibrant green and lit the fog like a beacon. She was no ordinary human woman. She would be easy to find.

"Hold off on that victory dance, little missy," he muttered to the shrinking form in the distance. He reached down to pluck her fallen driver's cap from the street and gave it a sniff. "You're mine."

Mellow Monday

It's been awful quiet lately. I think Thanksgiving has got everyone thinking of time off, and time with family. And food. Lots of food. My husband and I don't eat turkey, but we eat everything else so we never go hungry at Thanksgiving.

My son and grandson arrived at the Redmond airport at around noon yesterday. Yay! Poor little Zack is miserable with strep, and has no appetite. He's also getting a rash, which we think could be a reaction to the penicillin he's taking. The doctor's office will be on the list of activities for today. If he's feeling up to it, I want to take him to the High Desert Museum, which is also a zoo. It's small, and there are no lions and tigers and bears, but we have otters, beavers, bobcats, eagles, foxes, porcupines, and other desert animals.

Last night we watched the space shuttle fly over our house. The Endeavor and International Space Station are on a new mission, and the craft can be seen at night in our part of the world for a couple of minutes each night. It's very cool to see. What makes it visible is the sun glinting off its hull. If you didn't know it was the shuttle, you'd think a UFO just went zipping across the sky. It travels very fast. The astronauts made their fourth spacewalk yesterday.

I don't think I'd do well in outerspace. It's not so much the small enclosed environment I'd have to occupy, but the vast infinity surrounding me. It's strange enough just to ponder, but to actually confront the universe like that? Gives me vertigo just thinking about it.

I had an opportunity not long ago to participate in one of NASA's bedrest studies that paid big bucks just to lay on your back for two months straight. Or was it three? I answered their online questionnaire and a few months later was contacted with a lengthier application welcoming me to the program. I chickened out. I'd originally thought it would be a great opportunity to write without distraction, but they don't let you write. Just read. And there's probably no internet connection anyway. How would I be able to keep up with my blog?

Stressful Saturday

It's been quite a week. Started out pretty good, despite the no-news-snooze, but losing Maili put me in a funk. Ack. I really appreciate everyone's kind words of sympathy. It really meant a lot.

Next week is Thanksgiving. We usually have quite a few of my husband's family here in Bend for the event, which we always spend at his mom's house. We'll spend it at his mom's again this year, but his mom is the only member of his family who will be there. His sister, brother-in-law and nephew will spend Thanksgiving in California with our other nephew and his fiance. His cousin, who usually flies out here from Ohio, can't afford to make the trip this year.

This does not mean a lonely Thanksgiving for the Duvall household. Not at all. My daughter and her fiance are driving up from Eugene, and my son and grandson are flying out from Denver. Woo hoo! Rick's never been to Oregon, and neither has my grandson Zack, so this is extra exciting. But it almost didn't happen.

We'd been planning their trip for a year. I bought his plane tickets in July. Then about a week ago he called to say he may not be able to come because it didn't look like he'd accumulated enough vacation time at his job. If he couldn't get paid vacation, he couldn't afford the trip. Gah! Major disappointment. A couple of days later he called to say all is well, he had the vacation time after all.

Then yesterday, after I got home with a car full of groceries from Costco to keep my son's hollow leg filled while he's here, Rick calls to say Zack is sick and they may not be able to come. OMG! I was so looking forward to their visit! But today he calls to let me know Zack has strep throat, he's on antibiotics, and the doctor said he can travel. Phew!

But I'm bracing myself for bad news, just in case. It seems to be the pattern. I'll try not to get my hopes up too high. But if all goes well, my son and grandson will arrive at the Redmond airport at noon tomorrow.

Kids. Even when they're all grown up, they continue to give me gray hairs.

Thursday Thoughts - In Loving Memory

Yesterday was a very sad day in my house. Our 16-year-old dog, Maili, has been suffering from debilitating arthritis for a long time, but it got worse this year. She was hardly able to walk any more and frequently fell down when her back legs gave out. So my husband and I made the difficult decision to put her to sleep.

The vet came to the house, gave the old girl a sedative to calm her and make her sleep, then injected her with the barbituate that stopped her sweet little heart. It was so sad to see her go, but her passing was peaceful and we had a chance to say our last goodbyes.

She can never be replaced, but we will be getting another dog soon to fill the empty holes in our hearts that she left behind. We have a lot of love to give and look forward to sharing it with a dog needing a home and some feline pals to play with. We've already looked at pictures of available puppies online from the state shelters and that made us feel better.

Give your pet a hug today. You never know how much time they have left on this earth.

Teaser Tuesday - Mystic Taxi

I can't believe how much I got written over the weekend. Today alone I wrote 2400 words and the story just keeps getting more exciting for me. I hope it's equally exciting for readers. The following is a short excerpt from my steampunk urban fantasy novel in progress, Mystic Taxi.
______________________________________

Henry heard the whoosh of thrown darts before he saw them. Five copper needles thick as porcupine quills stopped a fraction of an inch from his face.

"You're late," came a graveled voice from across the room. "You know how much I hate waiting."

Henry touched the hovering dart aimed between his eyes. The sharp prick left a dot of blood on his fingertip. "I get your point." He slid sideways and all five darts dropped to the ground. "Must you always be so dramatic?" he said to his telekinetic friend. Levi would never hurt him badly, but he'd pulled some painful surprises on Henry in the past. His moods were unpredictable. "It's not like I'm late on purpose."

"Then why are you late?"

"Can I come in first?"

Levi nodded, the mask of leather that covered his disfigured face bobbing like one of those doll heads on a spring. The mask clashed with his eloquent velvet frock coat and crisply ironed slacks. White lace peeked from the cuffs.

Levi stepped around Henry to approach a long couch inside an old wooden subway car. The car's capsule-like roof was gone, the doors missing, and it served nicely as Levi's parlor within an otherwise dank and dusty tunnel. The lacquered wood gleamed and ornate copper scrollwork lined the seams that joined each wall inside the car. Lush carpet patterned with lilies and roses lay at Levi's feet. He gestured for Henry to join him on the couch.

"Cops got me," Henry said as he leaned back against thick velvet cushions. He held up his blistered hand. "They did this."

Henry couldn't see Levi's expression, but his friend stiffened, apparently feeling both outrage and empathy. But it hadn't been a policeman who dipped poor Levi, head-first, into a barrel of seawater when he was a teen. It had been Levi's human brother.

Marketing Monday = Zero News

Just as the heading implies, I have no news to share. Has the publishing industry become a wasteland of manuscripts floating in a hopeless sea of disinterest due to a failing economy? Of course not. I don't fall for the rumors of doom and gloom that has writers moaning over their fabulous tomes never finding a home because our economy is on the skids. Bullshit. The publishing industry is not dead! Blaming the economy for a writer's own failure to make a sale is crap. A good, marketable book will sell. Period. If your book's not perceived as good or marketable, it won't sell.

Publisher's Marketplace reports 181 deals as of last night. 181! And those are only the "reported" deals. Not all publishing deals are reported to PM, and my agent is among those industry professionals who chooses not to report her agency's sales. If anyone's ever interested in knowing about McIntosh & Otis's successes, of which there are many, they can visit the agency website.

I don't have news, but a few of my friends do. Yay!

My friend and RWA chaptermate, Elisabeth Naughton, just got another book deal with Dorchester for a new series. You go, Eli!

My AW forum buddy, Lily aka Carnation, won first place in Miss Snark's First Victim Secret Agent contest that was held over the weekend. The secret agent's identity has been revealed as Colleen Lindsay of Fine Print Literary, and she's offered the first place winner a full manuscript evaluation. What an awesome prize! The second place winners will get an evalution of their first 3 chapters (or first 50 pages, whichever is less). Congratulations to all the winners!

I have no doubt there will be more wonderful news for writers everywhere. The good stuff is out there for everyone to share! I don't mind waiting for mine. All it takes is faith. And talent. And a really good agent to stand by your side.

Freestyle Friday - 19th Century Slang

I remember saying some time ago that I'd post tidbits of 19th century slang from time to time, in the spirit of my steampunk urban fantasy novel in progress. I've been totally remiss in following through on that promise. So just for giggles, I'll post some today.

Growlers -- Saloon owners in the late 1800s used to dispense beer in two-quart buckets and cans they called Growlers. It was meant to be consumed by working men on the job, and by men and women in the tenements. It's speculated that the word derived from the sound the can made as it was slid across the bar. The second definition for Growler is a mean dog or a wrestler. In London a Growler defined a taxi driver due to their surly personality.

Rusher or Lush Trotter -- These were young boys and girls hired to rush the Growlers to the saloon's customers.

Cheese it! -- We've all heard this one, but do you know where it comes from? It's a British cant that made it's way to New York in the early 1800s and means Stop it! or Look out! It's believed the term is derived from the old custom of eating a bit of cheese to conclude a meal. It's also thought to be an alliteration of Cease it!

Masher -- A man who flirts with young women.

Chippy chaser -- A man who dresses to impress women and lies in wait for a young shop girl or school children. Syn. - creep

Flashman -- A man with no visible means of making a living, yet he wears fancy clothes and jewelry. He lives by his wits and is a swindler of the innocent. You'll find him wherever there are groups of women and social events.

Owl Wagon -- Late night lunch wagon on wheels.

Thursday Thoughts about Contests

I run hot and cold when it comes to contests. Being published means the pool of contests I'm eligible to enter is pretty shallow. To enter a published book in a contest, the book needs to have been published in the year the contest takes place, so that closes me out completely. To enter an unpublished manuscript in a contest, that contest has to accept published authors and most of them don't.

I entered the 2008 PASIC Book of Your Heart contest this year for a couple of reasons, the main one being that entries would be judged by librarians and booksellers. Now that's different and I really liked that idea. Getting peer judges who are fellow writers is like throwing the dice. You get a fair judge, you're in good shape, but if you get one with an axe to grind, fairness goes out the window. I've heard so many horror stories about contest judges out for blood who have very little clue how to judge someone else's writing. Spare me the agony of that experience.

I got lucky with the PASIC and finaled. And I won 3rd place, which is very cool considering the multi-published authors I was up against. So I'm proud of that win. I'm proud of Knight's Curse, the manuscript that got me there, and I pray for its eventual publication. In August of this year, I bit the bullet and entered yet another contest with KC. Gulp.

Results aren't in for this other contest, which is the Nola Stars 2008 Suzannah. But I entered because it's another different kind of contest where judges are librarians and booksellers, but also fellow writers, so I don't feel as encouraged. This is a romance contest, and the PASIC was as well, but the romance in KC is only a strong subplot and not the main plot. I kind of regret entering the Suzannah now, but what's done is done. Sigh. I just hope I can final based on the strength of the writing rather than the romance. Finalists will be announced December 1. The winner will be determined by a panel of 2 agents and 4 editors, and though I don't care about the agents since I already have one, I care a whole lot about the editors because all 4 are from publishing houses I'd love to have consider KC.

The editors judging the Suzanna are Leah Hultenschmidt (Dorchester), Margo Lipschultz (HQN), Alex Logan (Grand Central), and Leis Pederson (Berkley). KC is currently with Margo for the Luna imprint, and Berkley has already rejected, but it was a different editor. Any chance I can get my manuscript in front of editors, I'll take it.

It's now time to start thinking about Pengquin's Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest. I heard not-so-great things about it last year, but from checking out the rules for this year's competition, it doesn't appear to be the popularity contest that it was last year. There are professional reviewers making the selections, not every Tom, Dick or Harry and their relatives. I'm hoping that's the case, anyway, because I'm seriously considering entering Mystic Taxi, which will be finished and polished by the time the contest opens on February 2, 2009.

I'm thinking of entering Mystic Taxi in the PNWA contest, but the entry fee is steep at $50, and from my experience with it last year, the feedback was ho-hum and scores aren't given so I don't know how close or how far I was from finalling with Knight's Curse. All the comments were positive. Not a single criticism, just glowing praise, but I didn't final. That kind of ambiguous feedback gives me pause. I'm not sure the contest is organized very well.

Do you enter contests? Why or why not? What are your contest plans for 2009?

What's Up Wednesday: BUY BOOKS!

That's right, get out your wallet and set the moths free so you can reach in for a few measly bucks to buy a book. The publishing industry is in trouble, people, and it needs your support. Support the folks producing the books and you support the authors who write the products they sell.

Disturbing news has been sweeping through the blogosphere like locusts. Publishers are taking fewer risks as they tighten their belts. They're laying off staff. They're behind on their bills. Bookstores are returning books to them in record numbers. The careers of your favorite authors could be at stake.

A bunch of us over at Absolute Write decided to launch a book-buying campaign. It's informal, there's no t-shirt to buy, no logo to display (yet). We just want readers to go out and buy books this weekend. For the price of a full meal deal, you can buy a shiny new paperback book without the calories! Skip the manicure and buy a book instead. Forgo the two hours in a smelly movie theater with gum on the floors and that big haired woman blocking the screen and you can buy a book that will provide double the entertainment for your money.

How about buying a book by an author you've never read before? There are some fantastic writers out there, many of whom aren't published, but a few of them are. No matter your taste, there's a book for everyone. Have you thought of trying out a new genre? New subgenre? New crossover book? I'd never read young adult or middle grade fiction and was pleasantly surprised when I gave it a try. I don't read much romance, but action-packed thriller romances are awesome!

I want you to go out and buy a new book this weekend, either for yourself or as a gift for someone else. The holidays will be here before you know it, so be sure to add books to your gift list. Make a difference in the publishing world and support an author by buying his or her books. If you're a writer, this is a great way to pay it forward. If you're a reader, you're assuring yourself more great books to read in the future.

Tuesday is Teaser Time!

Introducing Wanda Snow, the second main character in Mystic Taxi, my steampunk urban fantasy WIP. This picture is close to how she looks, except her hair is blond. Here's an excerpt from chapter 2:

She turned around, her spine stiff and booted legs poised to kick what would hurt the most. She welcomed some trouble if it would warm her up. But the half-breed she faced was a head shorter than her six feet, and his top hat had no top, his gloves had no fingers. The only threat he posed was the stink coming off him in waves strong enough to choke a skunk. "I'm poor as you, mister. You won't hear no coins clinkin' in my pocket."

"I be a pig's uncle. You's a woman, ain't ya?"

"Last I looked."

He chuckled. "You dressed too masculine to be one of Hell's Bells. What you doin' out in Central Park all by your lonesome?"

"Waitin' for someone. How 'bout you?"

His brown-toothed smile spread his mouth wider than normal for a human. He was a spawnster, all right. And a drunk one at that. "Makin' new friends." He took a swig from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag. He held it out for Wanda. "Wanna be my friend?"

She grimaced at the smell of rancid olive oil that intoxicated him. If he had a bottle of wine she might reconsider, but vegetable oil didn't work the same on humans as it did on Hellspawn. From the smell, she guessed a hundred proof. She pushed the bottle away. "Think I'll pass."

He stepped closer, and she angled back.

He frowned, his dark eyes starting to glow. Great. A drunk spawnster with a temper. "I'm sure you're a nice guy and all, but I ain't interested. Share your, uh, oil with a lady who can enjoy it, 'kay?" She turned to the street.

"Fucking human," he said, venom deepening his voice. "You think you're better than me?"

I know I am, she thought, but didn't say so. And her being a hundred percent human was debatable. Looks could be deceiving.

"You ignorin' me?"

She was ignoring him, and only half-expecting him to go away. The other half expected—

Strong fingers gripped her arm above the elbow and tried to spin her around, but she didn't budge. He yanked again and she took her time turning to face him. "You don't wanna do this."

He swung back a fist, aiming his scaly knuckles at her face, but she stopped the blow with an open palm.

"Mister, violence'll get you nowhere." She bitch-slapped him and he staggered, his eyes wide. "Did no one teach you manners?" She slapped him again. "It ain't nice to beat up on a lady." A solid punch delivered to his left temple knocked him face down in the dirt.

"Not that I'm a lady, you understand, but you still shouldn't go 'round beatin' up on people. It ain't polite." She smiled down at the spawnster, whose hat lay in the grass about ten feet away. She picked it up, dusted it off with the sleeve of her coat, and set it on the ground beside him. He didn't move. "Have a nice night."

Marketing Monday

No, not the rock band. This is the amount of news I have since last Monday.

I got a smidge written on Mystic Taxi over the weekend, but not nearly as much as I'd hoped. I couldn't write at the surgery center while waiting for my mother-in-law as she went under the knife. And when I got her home, there were things that needed to be done for her and I couldn't leave her alone. We thought she'd be groggy afterward, but she was just the opposite. In fact, the poor dear didn't sleep a wink that night. We watched movies, I cooked, got her tea, her medicines, her ice packs... On Saturday I wrote a little bit while she tried to read. Anyway, the NaNo weekend was a bust. By the time I got home yesterday, I'd written maybe 1000 words, if even. I still need to update my WIP counter, though.

Mother-in-law is doing really well. She had minimal pain and seems to be healing nicely. She gets around with that big old boot like Frankenstein, but she manages okay and uses a cane to help her walk. The doc will change her bandage tomorrow.

I have no excuses to keep me from adding to my word count this week. I'm working on a design project today that should be finished by this afternoon, then I'm free to do whatever I please. Aside from an appointment to get my Hyundai Santa Fe's oil changed tomorrow, my writing schedule is wide open.

I'll probably end up obsessing over how Knight's Curse is doing in the big wide publishing world. I won't call my agent. I won't (repeat like a mantra). I won't. But I'll be hoping she calls me. Think good thoughts for me, okay?

This, that and the other...

I'm very disappointed in myself. I haven't written a new word on the WIP in two whole days. Aargh! I'm a disgrace to the NaNo Nation. Today's not shaping up to look much better in the way of writing time, however I need to take my mother-in-law to the hospital this afternoon for out-patient surgery on her foot, which means I'll have all that time while she's in surgery to work. I'll be spending the night with her because she can't be on her feet for a while. So tomorrow I'll probably have a few quiet hours to write as well. That's what I'm hoping, anyway.

No news for me, but a couple of friends of mine had first sales within the past couple of weeks. Of course I wish it was me, but I'm over the moon with glee for them. One got a 3-book deal with Orbit, and the other got a three book deal with Ace. Hurray for Nicole and Kasey!

For all you unpublished writers of science fiction and fantasy, Bantam Spectra has a great contest going on. It's their first ever Spectra Pulse Short Fiction Contest. One lucky winner will receive $100 and have his/her story published in the Summer 2009 issue of Spectra Pulse, Bantam Spectra’s exclusive magazine distributed at Comic-Con San Diego and select conventions and bookstores (available July 2009). They just started accepting entries and the deadline is January 31, 2009. The winner will be announced in April 2009.

Miss Snark's First Vicitim is having another Secret Agent contest. Only completed novels are eligible and this month's contest is open to all commercial fiction genres as well as literary and young adult. Submissions will open on Monday, November 10, at 9:00 am EDT. Please wait until the call for submissions is posted before submitting your 250 word first page entry. Visit the blog for details.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Teaser Tuesday on Wednesday

My bad, I got caught up on other stuff yesterday and neglected to post the excerpt I'd promised from Mystic Taxi. The following is from the first chapter:

"No sense getting your monkey up, officer. I'll come in peaceful. No trouble." He didn't appreciate being lynched, but wasn't surprised by it, either. As a cab driver, he had a special permit granting him permission to be out past curfew, not that law enforcement always recognized that fact. Few people accepted Hellspawn because they were gifted in ways that challenged human understanding. They were different, and that in itself was a crime.

Arms held above his head, Henry waited for the cop to make a move. He heard a metalic click. His gaze zeroed in on Ned's trigger finger as it squeezed the lever.

Feinting to the right, Henry dodged a jet stream of salt water from the gun's muzzle, but reflexively shielded his face with one hand. The water sizzled over his skin, steam rising from the scorched flesh, and he cried out in pain.

Ned laughed.

Henry sucked in a breath, struggling to hold his temper. Jaw muscles flexing in time with his heartbeat, he stared at the cop with eyes he knew glowed red with rage.

"Woo-ee, we got us a mad one." Ned chuckled and aimed his gun at Henry again.

Mac stepped forward to grab his partner's arm. "Don't be stupid. He's Hellspawn, Ned! You don't know what you're messin' with."

Ned jerked away. "The hell I don't." The shit-eating grin dropped from the cop's face. "My mother was raped by one of these… things. They're monsters, Mac. Every one of 'em should be exterminated."

Marketing Monday

Halloween was kind of disappointing. I wore my orange sparkly horns, gave out gummy body parts and chocolate eyeballs to trick-or-treaters, and I still had a bowl full of candy at the end of the night. Every year we get fewer and fewer kids. Sigh. But the ones who graced us with their spooky presence were real cuties. 8^)

Patience. I have buckets full. When you stay at the writing gig as long as I have, patience grows on you like an extra appendage. You have to have it just to function, but dang, it can be frustrating at times. I have no good marketing news to share on the blog today. Sigh.

I did talk to my agent on the phone this morning, though. We got our third rejection, this one from EOS (Avon). All the editors have said they love my writing, but the book wasn't right for them for one reason or another. It's a totally different kind of urban fantasy from anything on the shelves, which can work both for and against it, I think. Anything new is risky. But we still have three editors in this round of submissions who haven't responded yet, so I'm not discouraged. Round 2 is just around the corner and I say "Bring it on!" Yeah!

I'm NaNoing along at my own pace, which is slower than most of my fellow NaNoers. I'm a methodical writer so my process requires deep thinking, and that's not the NaNo mindset. Shooting out words like bullets from a machine gun is the name of that game, and I'm not playing it very well. That's fine. I do it for the goal. At least I'm writing every day, and I'm loving where the story is going. I'll post some here tomorrow.