The Writing Adventures of The Undead Duo–Julie Hutchings and Kristen Strassel


TODAY’S BREW: Pumpkin Spice Latte. What, you’re new here?

By Julie

Well, guess what’s finally going to be real?


I sent the back cover description (the hardest part of writing any book) to Ye Olde Publisher, Books of the Dead Press just this evening.

Yeah, sure. I’ll show it to you guys. HERE. *shoves it in your face*

Eliza Morgan is desperate to escape the horrors of her mortal life and  understand why death follows her, leaving only one man, Nicholas French, in its wake. He’s the one she loves, the one she resents, and the one fated to make her legendary among the Shinigami– an ancient order of vampires with a “heroic” duty to kill. He’s also decaying before her eyes, and it’s her fault.

On the ghostlike mountaintop in Japan that the vampires consider home, Eliza will be guided by the all-powerful Master for her transition to Shinigami death god. When Eliza discovers that sacrificing her destiny will save Nicholas, she’s not afraid to defy fate and make it so—even when Nicholas’s salvation kills her slowly with torturous, puzzle-piece visions that beg her to solve them. Both Nicholas and his beloved Master fight her on veering from the path to immortality, but Eliza won’t be talked out of her plan, even if it drives the wedge between Nicholas and her deeper.

Allying with the fiery rebel, Kieran, who does what he wants and encourages her to do the same, and a mysterious deity that only she can see, Eliza must forge her own path through a maze of ancient traditions and rivalries, shameful secrets and dark betrayals  to take back the choices denied her and the Shinigami who see her as their savior. To uncover the truth and save her loved ones, Eliza will stop at nothing, including war with fate itself.  

Yeah? That sound okay?

Of course, it doesn’t tell you EVERYTHING about the book. It doesn’t tell you how deeply everyone goddamn feels in this book. RUNNING AWAY is exploding can of snakes full of emotion. Nicholas–you remember him–

My Nicholas. Well, Ellie's Nicholas. Don't judge me, I MADE him.

–the guilt, and the love and excitement and sadness. Lots of that stuff. And resentment. Yeah, he maybe resents Eliza, but you know what? She resents him too. She’s feeling like this when they go to Japan:

Ellie suffers, but every good hero does.

Desolate. Hopeless. So much so that her love for Nicholas can barely keep her afloat through it.

Then there’s this guy:

My Kieran. Xx Nicholas has some competition.

 Kieran. And he is an absolute volcano in this book. A game changer. Because even though Eliza and Nicholas love each other, the Irish rogue that is Kieran makes her feel like more than a soon-to-be-vampire legend. He helps her face the death that follows her.

You’ll be meeting a lot of new folks at the temple in Japan, and every one of them is an electric shock of feeling for Eliza. And her transformation because of them is something you’ll never see coming.

This image absolutely floors me with how much it feels like RUNNING AWAY. I gasp every time I see it, and I just happened upon it when I was somewhere in the middle of writing:


And I found this next one, which is the other that’s near and dear to my heart. Nicholas and Eliza–this is them so very much in this sequel. They’re a fragile thing, but still strong.

Nicholas and Eliza

ANYWAY, I get emotional and I’ve veered off track. But I wanted to share this stuff with you all because you’re the ones who deserve it, who’ve been fans of RUNNING HOME, and who will I hope love this book even more. This book means so much to me, and so do all of you.


Joy will ensue.


Manifestation: Arcana Revived Volume One



Originally posted on Writing Possibilities:


Gabby Palladino believes in magic.

Her parents always tell her that magic is nothing more than foolish superstition. But she grew up reading ancient fairy tales known as the Fables of Arcana, which filled her mind with wonder and mystery. When those myths and legends start to come true, Gabby learns that real magic is far more dangerous than the bedtime stories she always believed in.

When people begin manifesting the powers of arcana, Gabby finds herself surrounded by dangers on all sides. She encounters people who can melt steel with their minds, create earthquakes, and summon flames from their bare hands. She must struggle to survive in a city gripped by chaos and destruction, while trying to discover why people are manifesting abilities that have been lost since ancient times.

What she learns will make her question everything she believes in, about the world, her family, and even her…

View original 113 more words

Book Beatdown: Being Brave in the Battle of the Book

TODAY’S BREW: PUMPKIN SPICE. Oh, it’s happening.

By Julie

The Back to School Book Beatdown has really heated up. We have more writers committed to this than I EVER thought we would!

Side note: Prepare, beta readers ad crit partners. October will be busy for you.

I’m so proud of all of you. I know how hard it is to get the kids to school, sit your butt down and make yourself THINK and FEEL and WORK when you might be able to watch a movie and fall asleep 6 or 7 times through it. Putting the pedal to the metal on your book is goddamn hard. Even when you’re in a flow and totally into it, you’re always questioning yourself, always feeling like you have no business writing. Plugging forward through that feeling is one of the bravest things I think a person can do. I absolutely mean that. To push yourself forward when you have no idea if you’ll finish, if anyone will care, if it will make sense or if you’ll fail your own standards can be soul crushing. And yet writers not only do it every day, they FIGHT to do it every day.

Bravery come in many forms but this one can grab your heart and make you think things of yourself you wished you never did. And then you push to find out just a little more. It’s knowing there will be pain involved, and that you absolutely will not be well received by many, but saying, “I’m doing this thing no matter what.” Goddamn, that is the kind of bravery I want my kids to have.

My buddy Matt White, who will hate me for putting him on the spot this way, I know feels inadequate about his writing. And this week he tweeted out that he read some of his own work and thought to himself that yeah, he’s on to something here, that he can write some damn good stuff. I already knew this because I know Matt, but what I think doesn’t matter when he sits down, feeling crappy and plow through his words to come out on the other side. I’m wildly proud of Matt for this.

Felicia Anderson is a writer who I begged to let me edit for her because her work is that frigging amazing. (she’s @Fifi_the_Ninja on twitter.) This girl browbeat the crap out of her work in progress this week, giving me writing days of over 3000 words sometimes. I MEAN, HOLY CRAP.

Peter Damien, Book Riot contributor and ginger, made some killer progress on the most intriguing haunted house idea I’ve heard since House on Haunted Hill, AND he found an actual haunted mansion he can visit all the time that will fuel his words and keep him focused. So exciting.

There were a lot of writers that reached out to me to tell me how well their work was going. There were some that didn’t quite make it, too. Who ducked when I showed up on Twitter looking for them. You know who you are. Looking at you, Adam Dean. I say your name not to shame you, but because even though you didn’t get done what you wished to do, you still reported in to me. That shows commitment. This isn’t a race–it’s creation. It cannot be timed.

I’m holding myself accountable, too. And I’m not where I want to be on THE WIND BETWEEN WORLDS. I had something else to attend to: approving the final edits on RUNNING AWAY, which has been done completely inches from publication. And I have a cover. A COVER. But I’ve been reading THE WIND BETWEEN WORLDS, and I’m so happy to have taken the time from it that I did. I’m eager to dive back in. I love it and I’m not afraid to say so. Having the encouragement from my early readers on it, particularly Jolene Haley of Pen and Muse, has kept me rigid in what I demand from this book. I want something utterly different, but familiar feeling, and I wont settle for les than glee when I finish it. It’s also wonderful to have my ever-supportive agent and personal Esquire, Eric Ruben telling me that there’s no pressure and to take care of myself first. He remind me that taking care of myself means finishing this book.

So while some are pushing limits every day word-wise, others are pushing by not letting themselves off the hook and not doing what’s easy. What’s easy is to just not do it. Don’t do things the easy way. Sneak up on your book when it thinks it can get away. Never let it get away.

A Baby Book is Born! JO by Leah Rhyne!


I mean, THAT is a cool fracking cover.


By Julie


Jolene Hall is dead – sort of. She can walk, think and talk, but her heart doesn’t beat and her lungs stopped breathing ages ago. Her body’s a mosaic of jagged wounds and stapled flesh.


Jolene Hall has a choice: turn herself in to the authorities, led by a suspiciously handsome police officer, or team up with her roommate Lucy and her boyfriend Eli to find a way to save herself. To Jo, the choice is clear. She’d like to know who turned her into a monster, and she’d like to live to see another sunrise.


But that choice has drastic repercussions.


On a trip deep into the snowy White Mountains, to a hidden laboratory filled with danger and cadavers, Jo and Lucy find more reanimated girls. Part body, part machine, run by batteries and electricity, these girls are killers, created by a shadowy Order with a penchant for chaos…and murder.


To make matters worse, a photo on a wall of victims reveals Lucy is next in line to be “recruited” into this army of beautiful, walking corpses.


When Jo’s physical condition takes a turn for the irreparable, and the Order kidnaps those she loves most, she must sacrifice herself to save them all.

This is the kickass synopsis for my good friend Leah Rhyne’s newest novel, which you can and should buy, here.

Or you could read a little more:

The next thing I knew, I woke up inside a morgue.

Of course, it took me a few minutes to figure that out. All I knew at first was that I was cold. So cold, in fact, I couldn’t feel my hands or feet. And I know people say that all the time, that they can’t feel their hands or feet, but what they really mean is that their hands and feet hurt in that bizarre way we all equate with “not feeling them.”

But me? Right then? I really couldn’t feel my hands and feet. There was an absence there that my brain couldn’t explain, an inability to move my fingers or wiggle my toes. I shivered in the cold, and I could feel my body shake, but not at all my hands or feet. They were gone.

My eyes were shut tight, the lids glued together like a kid with crusted-over pinkeye. I would have reached up a hand to pry them open, had I been able to feel even one of my hands. Since I couldn’t, I lay on my back, blind, as cold seeped upwards from whatever hard, freezing surface was beneath me. I definitely wasn’t in my dorm, nor was I on the creaky mattress at Eli’s. Like Dorothy and Toto, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. In fact, I had no idea where I was.

I tried to open my eyes. I tried so hard the muscles in my neck spasmed with the effort. But my eyes remained closed, and my hands and feet remained numb.

So then I moaned.

Really, I tried to cry out, to shout for help. But all I managed was a moan, and even that came out all wrong. It was an inhuman sound, unlike any I’d ever uttered. It became another lopsided piece to the bizarre-o puzzle my brain couldn’t fit together in those first few seconds. Because that’s all it was. Just a few seconds.

I moaned again, that creepy, guttural sound. I tried to roll to my side. I couldn’t. Groaning, I leveraged the little movement I’d managed to roll to the other side.

I was perhaps a bit too successful. I rolled over the edge of the rock-hard bed and fell with a crash to the rock-hard floor. My head hit the ground with a jolt that sent something like electricity crackling through my body.

And then I was on again. Zap. Just like that. The bang to my head was all I needed. My eyes flew open, crusties be damned, and my hands and feet sprang back to life. Sitting up, I rubbed my head with a hand that felt new and exciting. I was no longer cold, filled instead with a burning energy that flowed through my muscles with a twitching intensity. I blinked a few times to clear my eyes – they felt dust-bowl dry – and ran my hands through my hair, catching them in a few thick tangles. As my vision came into focus, I began to process my surroundings.

The ground on which I sat was as hard as the bed from which I fell. But no, I realized. Not a bed. It’s a table. It was tall and made from stainless steel, with long legs ending in dusty black wheels. The floor was white tile, flecked with gray, and it was spotless but for some splatters of green goo that surrounded my immediate location. I wrinkled my nose at the goo, afraid to look beyond it to see whatever else there was to see. From that first impression, I wondered if I was in a hospital…or a warehouse.

A warehouse? That doesn’t feel right, I thought. But a hospital. Yes. That makes sense. Something must have happened. I’m a patient somewhere. But where is everyone? Why am I alone? Why am I on the floor?

I…began to freak out. Just a little. The weird thing was, even though I was terrified, even though I should have felt my heart racing and my stomach flip-flopping and my face sweating, I felt nothing. I wasn’t even panting.

Or breathing.

Okay, buy it now. Look at how adorable Leah is:

Author Image Leah Rhyne

Leah Rhyne is a Jersey girl who’s lived in the South so long she’s lost her accent…but never her attitude. After spending most of her childhood watching movies like Star Wars, Alien(s), and A Nightmare On Elm Street, and reading books like Stephen King’s The Shining or It, Leah now writes tales of horror and science fiction.  Her first novel, Undead America Volume 1: Zombie Days, Campfire Nights, released in the fall of 2012, and it’s sequel, No Angels, released in the fall of 2013. The final book in the trilogy is coming in 2014. She writes for, The Charleston City Paper, and for herself at Leah lives with her husband, daughter, and a small menagerie of pets. In her barely-there spare time, she loves running and yoga.

Now, go get JO.









Happy Book Birthday, We Own the Night

Today’s Brew: Mimosas

by Kristen

Please join me in welcoming WE OWN THE NIGHT to the Night Songs family!  Callie and Tristan are back to resolve the issues they created in Because the Night, and Melanie and Ryder are joining forces with the Las Vegas crew, so to speak.  We even have a happily ever afterlife.

While the series will continue, WE OWN THE NIGHT wraps up this particular story line.  That doesn’t mean that these characters are done forever, they’ll just have fresh issues to deal with in the future.






I heard the door open softly, but I didn’t turn towards Tristan. He slipped under the blankets and pressed his body against me, draping his arm around my stomach. I didn’t say anything, but I snuggled against him.

“So many nights, I carried you in here and watched you sleep until I almost burned myself with the sunrise.” He murmured, playing with a curl of my hair. “I miss that.”

“That feels good,” I said softly. “I used to hate it when I woke up in here, alone. Now this is where I come to get away from you.”

“There are things I can’t explain to you about this world, but you’ll understand it once it happens to you,” Tristan continued twirling my hair between his fingers, and I wrestled with consciousness. “I know it drives you crazy.”

I turned towards him, resting my head in the nook on his shoulder. “What do you know about Cash?”

“Not much.”

Shouldn’t Tristan know something about the other vampires in town? Maybe that was asking too much. It’s not like they handed out an updated directory every year. “Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I’m sure we’re going to find out.” Something about the way he said it, he seemed a million miles away.

Before I had a chance to ask anything else about Cash, our lips met and we were speaking a whole other language. Tristan pulled me in close, his fingers so tangled in my hair I thought we may have to stay like this forever. My hands found their way down to his ass, his hips grinding against me in a way there was no question what he was thinking about.

I couldn’t think anymore tonight. And I just didn’t care.

Get Ready For We Own The Night

Today’s brew: Water. Still kind of dehydrated from working outside

by Kristen


WE OWN THE NIGHT comes Monday, September 1!  You can preorder it now and it will be waiting  for you in your Kindle or iPad at midnight. Or wait til Monday, if you’re into that sort of thing.  You guys were good. I made you wait five months for the conclusion of this story. I want to make sure everyone’s all caught up and ready to GO.

What can you expect from We Own the Night?

  • Callie is back!  The story picks up where Because the Night left off. After teasing everyone for two books about what happened to Blade, everything is revealed. And he’s pissed about having to wait to tell his story.
  • We’re back in Vegas. Mostly at the Alta Vista, but North Strip represent!  We made stops at the Riviera, Circus Circus, and the Stratosphere.
  • Everyone who made it to the end of Because the Night and Night Moves alive and/or undead makes an appearance in We Own the Night.
  • Lennon and Tony from BTN as well as Rachel from Night Moves play key roles.
  • New characters!!  You’re going to meet Cash Logan, a mysterious circus leader, and Holly Octane, a performer in his show who bursts into flames every night.  You also get to meet Tristan’s dad.
  • Tristan is….Tristan.
  • We Own the Night wraps up this particular storyline, but doesn’t close The Night Songs Collection. The mythology will continue with characters that are new and familiar with you.
  • But no more cliffhangers.
  • I was actually able to end the story with a Happily Ever….Afterlife?

Back To School Book Beatdown: How To Be Good To Yourself


By Julie

THE GREAT DAY APPROACHES. The start of school and September 1st brings about the Back To School Book Beatdown, just a week away! (Read about it here and join us or else.

While this will be the friendliest, most encouraging and understanding beatdown ever, today is the day I guilt trip you.

Moms, dads, writerly parents. I know how you feel. That first day you’re going to want to do NOTHING but hang out naked, drink coffee, laugh hysterically and watch movies. It’s going to be tough to DO anything. This is my first dedicated alone time in 7 years, I get it. And while you totally deserve that time, and so do I, I deserve to write, too. It might not come easy, and it would be a lot easier to lay in bed drinking coffee, but we all know I’m going to feel a helluva lot better at the end of the day if I write that first day of September. I’m preparing myself for it now.

I’m thinking for most of you the first day of school is probably not the first day of September, and your kids will already have been back for a week or so? In your “spare” time before 9/1, do some of this stuff like me:

  • re-read what you’ve done so far. Hate it if you like, love it if you can.
  • take notes in a fancy notebook. It’s back to school time, you can get yourself a notebook.
  • make an inspiration board. Create the mood you want for writing your book, so you can look at that sucker when you sit down to write.
  • outline. ugh.
  • clean your writing area so you have no excuses that day.
  • don’t expect perfection from your surroundings to sit down and write.
  • know what you need to write to make your quota. Remember, I’ll be asking you to check in with me once a week.
  • MY PERSONAL FAVORITE: Make it an event. I’m getting a Pumpkin Spice Latte, a whole week before my birthday as is NOT customary, I’ll have my favorite sweatpants ready, my music cued up, and there’s probably going to be cake for breakfast.
  • Remember this. In the words of the great Chuck Wendig, “If you can’t write 350 words a day, you don’t want to be a writer. You don’t get to be a writer.”

So, that first day, I’m going to set my expectations low. The prep work is SO extraordinary that the event itself is almost certain to not live up to my vision. I’d be shocked if I wrote 2000 words just because I’m alone, (which I won’t be–Sam doesn’t start until the third.) I’m giving myself a No Less Than 350 Words Rule, for that first day. There will be no days off, but there will be days where it isn’t feasible to do a monstrous amount. Those days, I’ll do my 350 words, and maybe I’ll do my 350 words again later that day and end up with 700. (Math.) But if not, I’ll make it up on a day where the writing’s REALLY good. Because those days will happen too.

Moral of the story is set expectations. Hold yourself accountable before I do. Be human to yourself, but don’t be a slug. Get your shit done and love it as you do.


SECONDHAND HEART Cover Reveal and Excerpt!

Today’s Brew: Champagne!  No. I wish I had some beer. *looks sadly at water glass*

by Kristen

Everyone, I want you to meet Daisy and Cam. Daisy and Cam, this is everyone. SECONDHAND HEART is different from the rest of my books, which makes it exciting and of course, scary. (Putting out a book is never not scary, kids.) This is my first contemporary romance, featuring a young military widow and a failed reality show winner who comes back home to open a country bar. When I say home, I mean home. I set Secondhand Heart in my hometown of Plymouth, Massachusetts.

SECONDHAND HEART is coming October 7. You can reserve your copy today, because I’m nice like that.

And speaking of beer, they drink a lot of beer in this book. A big shout out to Tim Hutchings, that’s Mr. Julie to you, for making sure I got all my locals spot on.

I need to stop talking about beer when I don’t have any and show you guys this damn cover.


So what’s this all about?


Daisy Mangold thought she had her life figured out until a roadside bomb in Afghanistan changed everything. Now a twenty-one-year-old military widow, Daisy moves back home to start over.

Cam Hunter won the reality show The Spotlight, and thought he was on his way to becoming the next big country star. But when whispers of how he won begin to surface, Nashville is less than welcoming. After he loses his record deal, Cam heads back home to open a country bar.

When Daisy meets Cam, she isn’t sure she’s ready to let go of the ghosts from her past. Cam’s ex-wife isn’t ready to move on either, and the tragedy she causes will expose Cam’s secrets and shatter Daisy’s family.

Will Daisy be able to follow her heart into a future with Cam, or will her grief keep her trapped in a past that no longer exists?


The lights went down, and the crowd went wild and swarmed the stage. The VIP section was to the right of the stage, and elevated just enough that we could see everything perfectly. A cover band had played up until now, but Cam Hunter was headlining his grand opening celebration.

Ev and Bree cheered when Cam came onstage, so I did too, more to be polite. He was picking up my bar tab tonight, after all. I’d never met Cam in person. I’d only heard Ev rave about him and of course I’d seen him on TV. He was taller than I expected, his broad shoulders straining the fabric of his blue and orange plaid shirt. I know, the shirt sounds hideous, but it actually looked hot on him. Bree’d said it enough tonight, I was thinking like her now. He wore the top few buttons open, showing just a hint of his tan chest. I couldn’t see his eyes under the brim of his white cowboy hat, but his sandy hair curled around the collar of the shirt. He opened the show with his biggest hit, Lonely Heart Saloon, in case you were wondering where he got the name for the bar. I found myself staring at his lips as he sang the words of the song, watching them move in front of the microphone, wondering what those lips would feel like on my skin.

I shook myself back to reality, looking at Ev and Bree singing along, and I was the last thing on their mind. Looking back at the stage, I forced myself to look anywhere but Cam’s mouth. Only being able to see the lower part of his face drove me crazy. What was hiding behind those eyes? Were they laughing, twinkling? Hell, I didn’t even know what color they were, and suddenly, I needed to know.

Look away from his face. Jesus Christ. The faded denim made his thighs look amazing. Who the hell checked out thighs? Well, if you saw these thighs, they were worth checking out. On The Spotlight, Cam had been an overgrown, almost goofy kid, playing a role. Doing what he was told. Now, on this tiny stage just feet away from us in this club, it was obvious he was all man. All smoking hot man.

When Cam said good night and thanked us all for coming, I was surprised how disappointed I felt. I’d been so lost in watching him play, not only his guitar, but teasing the fans in the front row by dipping down low, those delicious thighs spread wide and staying just out of their reach, his fingers brushing their fingertips, I got so lost in my own fantasies that I forgot all about time.

After the show, my skin was all tingly and strange. Cam had awakened something inside of me I hadn’t even known was sleeping. But at the same time, it felt wrong. I shouldn’t be thinking that way about any man, yet. My husband hadn’t been dead a year.

But I wasn’t dead.

This was safe, lusting after some musician who didn’t know I even existed. No harm could come of it. Cam had built his entire career off of people wanting to be him or be with him. It was a fantasy, nothing more.

The crowd had thinned out a bit after the show, but since this was an Ev production, we were closing down the place. Bree babbled about the show, the songs I didn’t know. “Cam’s record company didn’t renew his contract. Can you believe that shit? So maybe he’ll be playing here all the time.”

If life could even be that kind. “It is his bar, so that would make sense. Cheap labor.” I giggled at my own joke. Beer made me hilarious. I thought so anyway.

“I read online that he’s thinking of taking a new direction with his music. Collaborating with some new songwriters and stuff,” Bree continued. “Maybe we’ll get to hear it first.”

Ev had disappeared again, to the mysterious backstage area. She came back out, with a huge grin on her face.

And Cam following her.

Holy shit, she was bringing him over to us. Bree started hyperventilating and squeezing my arm. “Calm down,” I hissed. “You’re going to break a bone. I can’t act cool if my arm is dangling below my elbow.”

“How can you even joke at a time like this? Oh my God, here he is.” Bree let go of my arm, and blood resumed flowing semi normally. I didn’t know what to say to him.

“Oh my God, I love you.” Bree’s teeth could never catch all the thoughts that came rambling out of her brain, even if she wasn’t at least three beers deep.

Cam took it in stride. “I love you, too.” He took her hand in his, and brought it up to his mouth and kissed it. Bree gave an Oscar worthy performance and did not faint.

“And this is my sister, Daisy.” Ev brought his attention to me.

His eyes were blue.

The kind of blue that jumped out against his tan skin, almost perfectly matched with his shirt. Somehow, my hand landed in his, I only knew because the electricity that danced along my skin.

“Evey’s told me all about you.” Nobody called my sister Evey anymore. It surprised me, and I liked it. I missed her being Evey. One side of his mouth went up higher than the other when he smiled, and the skin around his eyes crinkled at the corners. I knew too much time had passed for me to reply, but my brain kept short circuiting every time I tried.

“Not everything.” Ev bumped into him playfully. “You know, Daisy’s been looking for a job—“

“No, I haven’t.” What the hell was she doing?

Her mouth dropped, and she shot me a look as if she couldn’t believe I could be so stupid. “Do you have a job?”


“So, as I was saying, my sister could use a job.” Ev rocked back and forth on her heels and batted her eyelashes at Cam. “You still hiring here?”

She totally caught Cam off guard. Great. “I’m sure we could make room for you, Daisy.” His smile made me melt, and almost forget I wanted to kill Ev. I liked the way my name sounded coming out of his mouth. “Why don’t you come in tomorrow for an interview?”

“Okay.” I think I squeaked. Ev, satisfied with mortifying me, moved in closer to Cam and continued chatting with him. He kept looking over at me, probably trying to figure out if I’d make a good bar back or dishwasher.

And he still held my hand.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice talking to you ladies.” He bowed his head and squeezed my hand one last time before he let go. “Daisy, let’s say, one tomorrow?”

I nodded, then watched him walk away and join another group. I know you’re wondering how his ass looked. Amazing.


TODAY’S BREW: Not Pumpkin Spice, folks. Too soon.

By Julie

Is it too soon for Pumpkin Spice because I don’t want to see the end of godforsaken summer? HELL NO. It’s because I love the anticipation of September, and getting my first Pumpkin Spice Latte on my birthday.

*looks at camera* On September 6th. *winks*

Writing parents suffer during the summer. Enjoy summer all you want, those of you who don’t burn literally every time you step out the door, but if you write or work from home at all, you know I’m right. I’ve stopped whining about it and given myself a Get Out of Jail Free card for the month of August. If I can write, I do, but it’s just too impossible to hold myself to a goal until school begins.


I’ll tell you why, jerks.

Because I’ve committed to myself to finish the first draft of THE WIND BETWEEN WORLDS by the end of September, and on Twitter I’ve gained a few folks who follow me blindly to come along and commit to the same. People like Ludella Hahn (squeeeee!), Matt White of Fireside Magazine fame, the ginger fool and Book Riot contributor, Peter Damien, who I will drag kicking and screaming and shedding his ginger hair to the finish line of a first draft, and some moms and dads who need some support to get their words out.


So, this is what it means. Starting SEPTEMBER 1st, I want us to have a weekly check-in on Thursdays, right here in the comments, or feel free to email me, or tweet me your progress to your goal. And I will come looking for you if you don’t find me first.

I won’t brow-beat you, but I will expect you to do this for yourself. I want you to get to the end of your book because I know how important it is. I know you want it. I know how good it feels to have completed it, and emptied your heart of those words. And I want us to support each other, run writing sprints together, encourage each other, and let you know that we’re here for the goods and bads of writing.



1. Figure out how many more words you need in your first draft. (If you need help, consult my superior math skills privately.) Give me your starting word count.

2. Divide it up by the number of days you’re going to work on your book. For me, it will be 30 days–I do best if I write every day. If I miss a day, I make it up another day. Pretty easy. For you, you might only like to write the 3 or 5 days your kid is at school. Whatever it is, just tell me.

3. Mark it on your calendars. If you don’t have a calendar, use your phone or get a goddamn calendar, all I’m saying is, I don’t want to babysit, I want you to hold yourself accountable. And come looking for me for a pat on the back.

4. SHOW UP. Show up every way there is. Show up every day at your laptop or in your notebook, and WORK. Writers write. And then show up to tell us how you did.

SUCCESS LOOKS DIFFERENT FOR EVERYONE. If you don’t ever meet your weekly/daily goal, OKAY. I won’t slap you for it. But I WILL be looking for you to tell me what success you did have. Did you learn something new, get past a scene you never thought you could, get further in a day than you ever have? I want us to grow this month.

AND THIS MAY ALL SOUND VERY TOUCHY-FEELY, AND IT WILL BE AT TIMES. These characters that have been screaming at you to write while you’re at Playdate #297 deserve your time! But I want us to beat these books that have been haunting us all summer or longer into submission. I want them to know we’re the bosseseses. I want us to work together to take control of our processes and remember that writers write, and it’s a community where we all suffer the same troubles a lot of the time.





Patience and Publication

Today’s Brew: I bought Bailey’s Vanilla Brown Sugar creamer and it takes over everything.

by Kristen

Our friend Summer Weir announced her book deal this week. On it’s own, it’s amazing news. But Summer’s story of her road to publication really struck a chord with me.

When Julie and I started writing together, I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to finish a book. Julie, on the other hand, was one driven mo-fo. She had already had begun researching how to get an agent when I was still in the “well I’ve got this really hot guy I want to write about” stage. She told me about self-publishing, and even though somewhere deep in my heart, I knew this might be a valid option for me, her pure enthusiasm about the prospect of getting an agent and a publisher seduced me. Once I thought I was ready for an agent, I started querying.

Here’s what Summer says:

My original intent was to self-publish right off the bat. It was a business decision. I know about marketing, promoting and social media, so to make better royalties on my own made sense. But I had a friend who suggested I try to get an agent. Because that’s what people who write books do, right? (As you can tell, at the time, I had no idea what people who write books actually do lol.)

Once I decide I want something, dude, get out of the way. I will run you over. I read everything I could find about how to get a book ready for publication. I entered contests. I got critiques.  I queried. I had an agent.  But ultimately, I decided the best place for me was self-publishing.  Two factors: timing and control.

Had I gone straight to self-publishing and put out my book in the summer of 2012…oh my God. Oh. My. God. I found an early draft of Because the Night, which at the time was called Immortal Dilemma, when I cleaned my office a couple weeks ago. I couldn’t even read it. At the time, it was the best I could do, and damn, I was proud of that manuscipt. But it needed work. So much work. It needed those rejections, critiques, and revisions that made me want to put my head in the oven.  Why? Those characters had become an extension of me, and I was way too close to them to see their flaws. When people  pointed them out, wow, it hurt. But together, we worked on things. Now, the central theme of the book is still there, but otherwise, it’s not the same book at all.

Here’s what Summer says:

So as I revised, I participated in writing workshops, agent boot camps, contests and pitch sessions. I swore I wasn’t going to be a victim of first-manuscript-shelving-syndrome, and so I found CPs, betas, and hired a couple editors as professional insight of how I could better my ms…During this time, I read a lot of industry advice, blogs, expert opinions etc as I tried to make sense of the whole process. I realized it didn’t matter what worked for everyone else, I had to figure out what I wanted for my book and for myself (my career).

Even though Summer and I write different things and are taking paths, our journeys and thought processes are very similar.

Now I that I have my self-publishing team in place, my books go straight into that process. Even though it’s called SELF-publishing, like Summer says, it takes a village. Chuck Wendig is probably more correct in calling indie authors author-publishers because not only are you producing a book, you’re overseeing the entire publishing process. I can do this now because of the path I took with Because the Night. I am pretty sure I made all the mistakes with that book, even creating some new ones along the way. (Hey, I’m a trailblazer). They were hard lessons, accompanied by a lot of tears and beers, but I learned from them.  I like to think I’m a better writer because of them.  I want each book I write to get stronger and better.

It gets frustrating to be patient. I hate patient. It’s up there with going to the dentist for me. But the critique/beta/rejection process is so important, because this is what actually gets your book ready for the publication process.  It makes you a better writer. You need to know how to take constructive criticism and revise before you work with an editor. You need your editor to have the best possible playing field to work with before she even touches your book, so she can work on making your story sing.  No matter how we decide to publish our book, this is one part of the road we all share.



Post Navigation


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 391 other followers