It's a Great Life If You Don't Weaken

by Nib

Anticipation 

Spring is here! As soon as the snow melts, anyway. I have to admit it’s been a tough few months for me. I didn’t winter well. I struggled with dreary days in a cold house. But I developed a routine, determined to persevere. I scribbled my way through one completed manuscript, ¾ of the way through another, which will probably remain unfinished. And finally settled in to write the first in a series I’ve been thinking about for a while. The first draft is nearly done on that puppy.

I kept myself to an ambitious daily word count, even if some of those days I resorted to only writing description because I wasn’t sure where the plot was heading. In addition to that, I forced myself to get outside on all but the blizzardiest days for at least an hour. I knew that eventually spring would arrive and I’d finally get to plant my vegetable garden and enjoy the sunshine.

I sought out inspiring messages. I read all those clichés on Facebook about positive thinking and counting blessings. I did my best to create a positive attitude. It didn’t always work but it didn’t hurt.

In a faith-validating way, April swung around and I planted a vegetable garden. And now it’s growing and I’m heaving a huge sigh of relief. I don’t have to put so much effort into feeling happy. Hearing the birds sing, waiting for the first burst of color from my peonies, and feeling the sun on my face is all the inspiration I need.

Today, I’m going to share one of the bits of inspiration I tacked up last winter to remind myself to buck up. I saw it online someplace and printed it out. It’s from Doe Zantamata.

We believe what we tell ourselves.

Tell Yourself:

Everything will work out.

Things will get better.

You are important.

You are worthy of great things.

You are loveable.

The time is now.

This too, shall pass.

You can be who you really are.

The best is yet to come.

You are strong.

You can do this.  

My father-in-law used to have a saying I love: It’s a great life if you don’t weaken.

I often resort to one of my favorite lines I first saw on a greeting card: It’ll all be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

Look at their sweet newborn selves!

Now as I happily trip through the sunshiny spring and summer of growth and delight, I’ll shed the heaviness of winter. Not to get too maudlin, but life and the seasons cycle around. Maybe the dreariness of winter won’t hit me like a sledgehammer next year. But eventually, I’ll run into another rough patch and I’ll need to circle my emotional wagons again.

As an aside, the Hopi tribe, featured in my mysteries, believe that planting seeds and growning things is essential to maintaining not only the Earth's balance but our own personal balance. 

What about you? What tricks, methods, exercises do you engage when you need to pull yourself from the depths?

Don't Weaken

by Nib

Is it me, or has it been a long, cold, gray winter? I’m ashamed to say I sort of lost my grip during this last season. I’ve been fortunate that either by nurture or nature, I normally maintain a cautiously upbeat outlook on life in general. To augment that, I’m like the Thought Traffic Cop, directing them from the dangerous road of negativity to the more positive lane.

Something twisted in my head last fall, though, and my determined optimism faded. I opened my mind to a dribble of fear and soon, I was flooded with it. I turned in the last book of a three-book series and my new proposal hadn’t been accepted. I started writing in a new genre, experimenting with alternative publishing methods. I moved from my supportive writing network to the boonies. And I started to fret.

What if I was all washed up? What if my book sales tanked? What if no one ever wanted the new mystery series I wanted to write? What if these new books wouldn’t be successful?

I kept up a respectable daily word count but writing became a sentence, not fun. (Okay, let’s be truthful, writing for me in rarely fun, but I often feel satisfied.) My view of myself as a big fat loser grew to US dietary proportions. I literally saw my world in black and white. (I mean that literally, as in the movie Nebraska.)

I’m not sure what caused the turning point but one day it hit me. I had nothing to moan about. My goodness (truth is I probably didn’t say “my goodness” or "moan."), I had a three-book deal with a decent publishing house! How long had I worked toward that goal? I reminded myself that not long ago I’d said, “If I could have three books published, I might give up writing and become a full-time reader.” Somewhere along the line, though, I’d raised the bar on myself. Suddenly three books weren’t enough. And I wallowed in self-pity that my sales didn’t rival more successful writers.

The truth is, I may never get another publishing contract. This is what I’ve got right now: two books released, one due out next year. I had darned-well better enjoy this ride. If it’s the last time I go round, I’ll kick myself if I spend the whole time worrying about what’s next.

I also decided to stop writing the books that weren’t feeding me and start to have fun (again, a relative term). Just like the pall of winter lifting for spring, my gloom lightened. Negative self-talk that had become habit required conscious thought to change. But it’s so worth the effort.

Instead of thinking, “oh no, how will lightening ever strike me twice?” I’m feeling gratitude for the shock of the first time. I’m infused with new energy and determination to get going. No one may want to publish this next series but it’s the book I want to write. Thinking of it makes me happy. So that’s what I’m going to work on.

Maybe my new-found optimism is more a product of the coming spring than it is my ability to direct my own thinking. But it snowed yesterday and there’s a definite dreariness in the sky today. And yet, I threw myself into my new project with enthusiasm.

As my dear father-in-law used to say: It’s a great life if you don’t weaken.  

Broken Trust is Here... Almost

by Shannon Baker

Clears throat, taps on champagne glass, gives toothy grin: Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Broken Trust.

Book two of the Nora Abbott Mystery Series will make its debut in a couple of weeks with the official release date of March 8.

It’s true, Tainted Mountain has a new brother/sister. I still have a hard time believing a book I wrote is being published by a real, live, legit publisher. On some level, I must have thought it was at least possible, or I would have quit writing eons ago. Still, it seems like a fantasy to have two books out there. It’s a real kick to know book three is turned in and making its slow journey to the shelves.

I didn’t start out to write a series. I intended Tainted Mountain as a stand-alone thriller. When I moved to Flagstaff and found out about the controversy to pump manmade snow on the San Francisco Peaks--land sacred to 12 tribes--I had to write a story about it. I needed a protagonist in the center of the storm who had everything at stake. That turned out to be Nora Abbott, owner of the ski resort.

Driven, insecure, timid and ferocious in equal measure, Nora sprang onto the pages. When I negotiated my contract with Midnight Ink, my editor asked if Tainted Mountain was a stand-alone or a series. Without thinking, I said, “Series.”

And just like that, Nora was given new life. I worried and stressed because I’d never thought about writing a series, didn’t even read that many. How would I would I ever plunge so deeply into another Nora book?

In Broken Trust, Nora returns to her favorite place, Boulder, and lands a job at an environmental trust. (Coincidently, I also moved back to Boulder while I was working on this book.) But all is not as it seems. The trust is a hotbed of conflict and corruption. Nearly a half million dollars is missing and Nora’s predecessor is murdered.

Nora’s mother pops onto the scene with her own drama. She is determined to hook Nora up with handsome Cole Huntsman. Cole has been waiting for a year to let Nora get over the death of her husband and the traumatic events in Flagstaff, but he’s ready to start a relationship with her. In the meantime, with the help of quirky staffers at the Trust and an Ecuadorian hunk, Nora uncovers a plot that could destroy one of the most pristine locations on the planet.  

And how, you might or might not be asking, is such monumental destruction possible? That was the really fun part for me. I got to research conspiracy theories surrounding HAARP (High-frequency Active Auroral Research) and using weather as a weapon of mass destruction. This stuff is scary/interesting. I spent hours watching Jessie Ventura and others present the case that the shadowy Powers That Be are planning to control our minds/kill us all/wreak havoc on the environment. I dabbled in learning a little (very little) about Tesla towers and the potential for sustainable energy.

When I sold Tainted Mountain I was happy and proud of my new baby. We all know the analogies of writing and publishing books to having babies. I don’t know if anyone else felt this way, but when I was expecting my second baby, I worried I’d never be able to love it as much as I loved my first one. And even though I’d planned and wanted the baby with all my heart, part of me was jealous it would come between me and my firstborn. Weird, I know. But I kind of had the same misgivings about creating a series and wondering if I’d love the second book as much as the first.

The book is here and, just as it was with my kids, I do love book two as much! I learned a lot between book one and two and even more between two and three. It turns out I like writing a series and I’m glad Nora got to live on.

Broken Trust is available in all ebook formats and in trade paperback. If you’re inclined to buy it in paper and love supporting indie booksellers, please consider Who Else Books at www.BroadwayBookMall.com.

Brave New World

by Nib

“Listen to this.” I rattled the paper and read from the classified ads. “Wanted: Finance and Accounting manager for village of Culbertson.”

My long-suffering partner raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“Culbertson is only eleven miles from here. I’m qualified. Maybe I ought to apply.”

He walked the three steps that took him from the far side of the kitchen through the dining room to the living room where he stood in the six inches between the sofa/desk/café and TV to emphasize his point. “But you’re a full time writer. You don’t have time for another job.”

I shrugged.

“Right?” He pushed. “Right?”

Right. By now, I’ve been a stay at home writer for two weeks. I’ve written a ton of words and started to apply myself to all those writerly things I’ve never had time for previously. I’m studying about audio books and indie publishing. Making marketing plans and reading about the industry. I’m even trying to give myself permission to read a lot of books.

For many reasons, we made the decision that now is the time to drastically downsize our lives so I can devote my energy to writing. To make this possible, we moved to a small town in Nebraska where we plan to stay for 591 days until my partner retires and we head south. I’m thrilled and excited and full of ideas and ambition.

And scared to death.

I’ve enjoyed the push and rush of a business career. I like dressing for the office, having an excuse to buy shoes, needing a closetful of skirts and dresses and having places to wear them. I work well with schedules and routine. I really, really love a fat paycheck.

I’ve lived in rural places for big chunks of my life and I’m not too put-out with our 100 year-old house with 800 square feet of living space. I can do without the dishwasher, the automatic garage door (and in fact, the garage) and couldn’t care less about the lack of fine dining and shopping malls.

I get to live the dream. Days full of writing and time to invest in doing it right.

The awful truth, though, is that I’m not making any money. We planned for this and expected it. I've got the budgets and spreadsheets to plot my way through this new venture. My business plan doesn’t even call for income for another several months, perhaps a year, probably more. Even then, it won’t be as much as my MBA earned me. Ever. It won’t be reliable and steady.

That’s how business and life works. You take risks and do your best. You weigh quality of life issues and set heart and money on the scales. Make a decision and jump with both feet.The key for me is put away guilt and doubts. Set aside the fear and step out into this new adventure with confidence and courage.

I folded the newspaper and reached for my computer. If I’m going to write the first draft of this novel in a month, I can’t waste time reading want ads.

We all give up something to be writers. We sacrifice time with our families, money for conferences, trade-offs with recreational and relaxing events. What do you give up and is it worth it? Does it take courage to pay the cost for your writing dream?