Private Lives – Coming April 2021
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NaNoWriMo Update 11/23/20
Ah, NaNoWriMo both drives me crazy and excites me at the same time! I love NaNo because it motivates me to write, but I stress because I’m not sure I’ll hit that elusive 50,000 word mark. The struggle is real.
The good news is, I finished the first draft of Run Away Home, book one of my Loves of Lakeside series. It sits at just over 29,000 words, which gives me a lot of room to edit. I’m “shelving” it for now and will begin revisions in December.
I also started book two of my Loves of Lakeside series, an untitled piece that goes deeper into the town and the people who live there. I’m very excited about this series and the possibilities I see in Lakeside.
I hope everyone is doing well and having a safe November!
NaNoWriMo Starts Tomorrow!
I’m ready to go. I think. 😂
I’m a Plantser, part plotter, part pantser. I know where I want to get to and I kind of know how I want to get there, now I have to do it. I have notes, I have ideas, I have an endgame. For me, getting there is half the battle.
Book one of Loves of Lakeside is waiting to be written. Twenty-five thousand words is my goal for book one. That’s half of my NaNoWriMo goal. If I can get there, I can start book two of Second Chances in Hollywood.
Good luck to anyone who is participating!
It’s Done!
Book one of series number one is WRITTEN and submitted. I do still have editing to go through, but I finished it more than a month early.
No rest for the weary. On to book one of series number two!
It’s that time of year again!
No, not Halloween.
National Novel Writing Month is almost here. I am taking part for the 6th year in a row. I’m writing the first book in a new series that will be available from my publisher sometime next spring. If I can knock it out, I might work on the second book, too.
Anyone else participating?
Hello, World! I’m Mimi. And I’m a Writer
According to some people, I’m old. Far too old to be venturing into any kind of alternative career path, or trying to make a name for myself. I’ve even been told I’m too old to write the things I write. Maybe that discouraged me, put me on a path of self-imposed mediocrity. I bought into the idea that I was too old to do something new.
Fate stepped in and made me choose another path. I was ready to try something new.
Or, like Master Yoda says, “Do. Or do not. There is no try.”
So, I decided to “do”. I wrote earlier how I submitted my writing to a publisher. I figured “why not?” The worst they can do is say no. It’s not like I haven’t been through rejection before. Even if nothing comes of it, at least I can say I did it.
I emailed off the first ten-thousand words of one of my finished books, held my breath, and waited.
When the email came back, I stared at it on my phone for a full five minutes before opening it. I couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected, even though I had prepared myself for the rejection. That didn’t mean I wanted to see it, in black and white, staring back at me. No one wants a rejection, even if you know it’s going to happen.
I opened the email.
They didn’t say no. They said yes.
The last month has been a whirlwind. I’m going slightly crazy with all the thoughts in my head, the possibilities, the opportunities. For the first time, people in my world, my “every-day-go-to-work-nine-to-five-act-normal world” know that I’m a writer. Once upon a time, only a few people knew I wrote. Not anyone I worked with. It had taken years to tell my family members I was a writer. There are still a few who don’t know. But all of that is changing. I can finally say it.
I’m a writer.
Be Brave, Even When You Don’t Want To Be
Sometimes, you just have to do it.
Sometimes, you just have to stifle the fear and do what scares you.
I did that today. I decided to stop sitting on my ass and doing nothing, waiting for it to happen. I took control, said “fuck it”, and did something that scared the crap out of me.
I submitted Private Lives to a publishing company.
Do or die. Good or bad. The worst they can say is no.
Right?
Samantha Walters
Author/Writer
As a physical object, a book is a stack of usually rectangular pages made of papyrus, parchment, vellum, or paper oriented with one longer side either left or right, depending on the direction in which one reads a scripttied, sewn, or otherwise fixed together and then bound to the flexible spine of a protective cover of heavier.
In the history of hand-held physical supports for extended written compositions or records, the codex replaces its immediate predecessor, the scroll.As a physical object, a book is a stack of usually rectangular pages (made of papyrus, parchment, vellum, or paper oriented with one longer side.
Author, Wife, Mother, Fangirl
Author. Wife. Mother. Fangirl.
These are the monikers I use most often to describe myself. There are many more, a million more, but these are the ones I use the most. There are days that I am more one than the other.
Today, Mother jumped to the front of the line. Don’t get me wrong, I am always a mother. Always. I have been a mother for 23+ years and I am damn proud of that particular moniker. But my children are grown or almost grown – 2 adult daughters, 23 and 21, and a 17-almost-18-year-old son who is off to the military in a few short months – so I don’t find myself wearing my mother hat 24/7 like I did when they were little. I pull it out every now and then, but I’ve worked hard to make my children be self-sufficient, so more often than not, I step back and let them figure it out on their own.
But today, The Boy, my baby (who isn’t really a baby, not at 6 feet and 150 pounds of pure muscle), sliced open his finger at school. He called me as he made his way to the nurse’s office, panic in his voice, immediately putting me on edge as he talked about his finger “gushing blood.” Ten minutes later the school nurse called me and suggested he go for stitches. She did comment that he was bleeding A LOT and she was concerned because the cut was on the joint. Basically, every time he moved his finger, the cut reopened and started bleeding anew.
I made arrangements to leave work, then hurried to school to pick up The Boy. I was in full MOTHER mode, making an appointment to get him into the urgent care by our house, talking to the school nurse, and letting his dad know what happened.
Three hours later, he is stitched and splinted and none the worse for wear. He’ll probably have a gnarly scar, but no big deal. It’s not the first and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
I’ve been in full AUTHOR mode for a couple of weeks now, ever since I got Private Lives ready for pre-order. It has been on my mind constantly. I wake up in the middle of the night and think of something new to do for release day, I wake up wondering if it’s any good, I fuss over every little thing. But today, MOTHER mode took over and for a few hours, I didn’t even think about my book.
Isn’t it fascinating how we can shift gears in our lives so quickly? How we can toss one hat aside for another, then minutes later put on yet another hat? I love it. I love that I can be so many things at once and every single one of those monikers I have – author, wife, mother, fangirl – can co-exist peacefully in one person. And those are just the tip of the iceberg. I can be so much more, do so much more.
There are no limits.