Congratulations, Mrs. Deloney! It’s a Book!

Well, well, well…

I am officially a PUBLISHED AUTHOR!!! Got my copies in the mail yesterday afternoon and I am loving it!

When authors say that writing a book is like having a baby, I completely understand what they mean. For those of you who don’t, let me explain.

First, there’s the twinkle in the eye, just the thought of having a baby. This is the period when you think to yourself or say out loud, “I’m going to write a book.”

Then there’s the conception. That’s when you get your first idea of what book to write. You don’t even know if you can do it, but you jot down notes, ideas, snippets of dialogue.

Next, you find out you’re pregnant. This is when you put your first chapter on paper, either with a pen or on a computer.

So what happens now? You tell everyone you’re pregnant. Or rather, you tell everyone you started working on a book.

Then the morning sickness takes over. You tell yourself you’re crazy to think you can write a book. You throw out the chapter you wrote and then retrieve it. You may do this several times.

Now is the gestation period. This is when you commit to writing. The story starts to take shape. You start doing research using writing magazines, blogs, classes.

Halfway through, you take tests to see if the pregnancy is progressing. You hand off your sample chapters to a few trusted friends and/or family members. They give you feedback, hopefully more than, “It’s good.”

Now closing in on the last trimester. Instead of Lamaze classes, you join a writing or critique group. It helps to know that there are others going through what you are and you benefit from their advice and feedback.

The doctor says you’re gaining weight, which is good. You’re working through your first draft and it looks like you can see the end of the tunnel, or at least the end of the book.

You start shopping for your essentials. This is the time to seek out an editor, possibly an agent, and what publishers might be interested in your book.

It’s time for the baby shower! Edit, revise, submit! Edit, revise, resubmit!

You’ve hit your due date. The final draft is complete. You got the deal with an agent and/or publisher.

The labor pains begin. More editing, more waiting. What will the cover look like? Who will buy it? How will I promote it? What if something happens and the deal falls apart?

You’re fully dilated now. The publisher gives you the date the book will be released. Time to spread the word to everyone you know and everyone they know.

Time to push! Push that book out there. Get out on Facebook, MySpace, blogs, groups – let anyone and everyone know that it’s coming!

Finally, the moment arrives: your baby has come. The postman delivers your “baby” – your book – in your hands. You nervously check out your baby – the cover art, the spelling of your name, the photo, the typset. You glide your hand gently over the cover trying to take in the wonderful moment.

And though you may have other babies in the future, nothing is as precious as delivering the first one.

Who says I’m not a Superwoman?

I have finally found my true inner ego.

Don't mess with Ms. Inferno!

I’m a PC…

Yesterday, my 6-month-old earphones for my 6-month-old iPhone broke. I knew I needed to replace them but I wasn’t thrilled about spending the money. Plus, all the reviews said they were crappy. (I personally thought they were fine once I figured out how to get them to stay in my ears.) I tried looking up some alternative headphones; I found several, but most didn’t have the microphone I needed or were way out of my price range. I did find the perfect replacement set at Best Buy; unfortunately, I could only purchase them online. (More than a day without listening to my iPod on the train? Sheer torture.)

So I knuckled under and decided to get the replacements. It was a gorgeous spring day and walking the two blocks to the Apple store was just what I needed. A cheerful associate in an orange t-shirt sympathized with my dilemma and pointed me upstairs. I spoke with another associate in a blue t-shirt; apparently, my needing help conflicted with his conversation with the security guard. But he plastered his fake helpful smile and dutifully showed me the three options to replace my headphones. The first were identical to what I had. The second were almost identical, except there was a great feature that allowed you to control the volume on your iPod. Only it was incompatible with the iPhone. (Thanks a lot smart guy. Get my hopes up then slam me into the concrete floor.)

He then showed me another pair that looked a lot like the first pair, but these had some sort of case that I could put the headphones in when not in use. Hallelujah! Only these were more than twice the price of the other ones. No thanks, I say. He tells me that these are as good or better as the third party headphones that are way more expensive. No thanks, I say again. I wonder aloud why I have to pay for the headphones in the first place as they’re less than a year old. “What did you do?” he asks. I must have given him my best diva glare because he instantly backpedals. “I mean, you must have done something for the glue to break, not that I’m accusing you of anything. You’ll have to pay for them. You can ask one of the ‘genuises’ but I’m telling you what they’re going to say.” I thank him for his time and proceed to wander through the store.

I was about to leave but I decided to stop by the “Genius Bar.” (I guess this is like Best Buy’s Geek Squad.) A cheerful associate in a blue t-shirt asks if I have an appointment. “Do I need one?” I ask. She says, “Let me see what’s going on,” and introduces herself as Katie. And in a simple case of “You have not because you ask not,” I explain to Katie what happened and she sympathizes. “That shouldn’t have happened. Let me see about getting you another pair. Can I see your iPhone?” Startled, I hand her my phone and she checks for pertinent information. Confirming my identity, she says, “Give me 5 minutes and I’ll get you another pair.” She hands me paperwork I need to sign, saying I’m getting replacements – for free.

Sure enough, less than 5 minutes later, Katie comes back and hands me a brand new pair of headphones and sends me on my way. The sun was shining just a bit brighter as I exited the store, with $30 still in my wallet, my new headphones and knowing that I could drown out the sounds of train that very afternoon.

I’m a PC… but I can dig the Apple.

We Interrupt This Program…

Yesterday I was thinking about The Brady Bunch. Yes, the iconic 70’s television series that will never die. For some reason, I was thinking about all those quizzes on Facebook and I thought, “Which Brady kid am I?” My answer was Jan.  Like Jan, I was the smart and funny one, never quite sure of her place in life and always feeling a little like the one that no one noticed, even though everybody did.

The best “Jan” episode was “The New Jan Brady”, the one where blonde Jan decides she’d rather be a brunette to distinguish herself from her other blonde sisters. She purchases this hideous (even for the 70’s) brunette beehive wig and goes to her friend’s party, where everyone laughs and mocks her new look. She runs home in tears only to have brother Peter come home with all the party guests to tell Jan she looked better as a blonde. (Apparently, they thought the wig was some kind of weird joke.) Jan happily goes back to the party and lives in apparent anonymity until she is once again thrust into middle-daughter crisis. (Stay with me, it’s going to get interesting.)

So I was thinking about all this when my dark and twisty* inner writer took hold of it. What if there were a remake of the show? Not the awful where-are-they-now “The Bradys” show. (Now that was a hot mess. Marcia was an alcoholic with a frequently out of work hubby; Jan was infertile and she and hubby adopted a little Korean girl; Cindy was having an affair with her boss; Bobby was a paraplegic after crashing his race car; Peter was a playboy who couldn’t settle down. Only eldest son Greg managed to have a fairly normal non-neurosis life.)

No, my dark and twisty inner writer wanted a remake of the teenage Brady Bunch. (I promise you “90210” – in any form – was not the Brady Bunch reincarnated.) So this is my proposed pilot for the 21^st century Brady Bunch.

Cue music… Here’s the story, of a lovely lady…

Our story is narrated by Alice, the house manager of the Bradys. She is the repository of all the Brady secrets. Alice knows everything but not everyone knows just how much Alice really knows.

Alice knows widower Mike Brady met divorcee Carol Phillips online. They met, married, and brought their respective families into the Brady mansion. Mike is a very successful businessman with large corporate holdings. He’s not above bending (or possibly breaking) the law to get what he wants. There’s been talk that the first Mrs. Brady died under suspicious circumstances. But Mike Brady has enough money and power that no one is willing to investigate.

Carol Phillips-Brady has been married several times and each time, she’s come out exponentially richer. She’s also a functioning alcoholic. She and Mike look good together, but it’s clear that it’s also an act, especially since Carol is lusting after the pool boy. Problem is Mike may be lusting after the pool boy too.

Eldest son Greg is a high school athlete. His dirty secret? He’s on steroids. Anything to be the BMOC and please Papa Brady.

Eldest daughter Marcia is pregnant. She’s not sure if the baby’s father is her secret boyfriend Darnell (who’s Black or Latin) – or her stepbrother Greg. She’s also not sure of what she’s going to do about the pregnancy.

Middle son Peter has a very nasty habit. He’s into online poker in a big way. So far he’s been able to pay off his debts by tapping into his trust fund left to him by his late mother. But he’s getting in way over his head and finding out that his debts are about to be collected – maybe at the expense of brother Greg’s career.

Middle daughter Jan is a straight-A student who puts enormous pressure on herself to break out of the shadow of her elder sister. She’s bulimic and a shopaholic. She uses her money to buy companionship and has trouble distinguishing who her real friends are.

Baby girl Cindy has daddy issues. She’s been sleeping around with much older men. It started when a much older man slept with her when she was much, much younger. Her father? One of her other stepfathers? She’s currently involved with newest stepfather Mike’s best friend. But Mike’s best friend has plans for Cindy – and they’re definitely not nice.

Youngest son Bobby has mommy issues. He wants to know what really happened to his mother on the night she died. He’s been quietly hacking into his father’s computer and learning just how ruthless his dear old dad can be. The secrets he uncovers could take down the Brady family for good – or cost him his life.

So that’s my take on a revamped Brady Bunch. What do you think? Sherwood Schwartz would probably keel over if this ever went on the air.

One day I’m going to do dark and twisty Dora the Explorer. At the very least, it would make a good SNL sketch.

*Yes, I know I stole “dark and twisty” from Shonda Rhimes and Grey’s Anatomy.

Write and Wrong – Part 2

To recap: At a book signing last Saturday with author Bettye Griffin, a young man asked for writing advice. His statement to us, “I don’t want to be known as an African American writer,” had us laughing out loud. Bettye responded, “We’re laughing because we know what the real deal is.”

Bettye began to explain to the young man that the deal is once your work is bought by the publisher, you have no control on cover design, how it’s marketed and where it’s placed (if at all) in bookstores. Borders segregates because of customer feedback. And if you sign up with a AA imprint, if the bookstore buys your book, they will put you in the same category as all AA literature, fiction and non-fiction.

I also explained to the young man that while what he may see on the surface in the AA section is so much – I’ll use the word nonsense, there’s a great deal to be read in that section. Because it’s all lumped together by the color of the author’s skin, he wasn’t aware that there was more than just urban lit and erotica. Thrown in were mysteries, horror, Christian/inspirational, literary, historical, romance, women’s fiction and mainstream just to name a few.  But because the stuff that was turned out featured – I’ll say again, nonsense covers (this side of porn), he just assumed that all that was there was of lesser quality. (I didn’t even get into a discussion of the quality of the writing in street/urban lit and erotica, as I’ve never read them and have no basis to make a judgment, though I am really disgusted by those covers.)

The young man rightfully said that by dumping the works of AA writers into one section you can potentially limit your revenue stream. We agreed on that point, but also said that it was up to the author to promote and market the book to a broader audience.

I explained to the young man that as a fledgling screenwriter/novelist, it was next to impossible to control who gets your work and what they do with it. However, I pointed out to him that he should look at Tyler Perry as a role model. Perry, who was homeless before his first play took off, now has his own studio in Atlanta. Everything he does – from writing to directing, casting, marketing, etc. – is controlled by him. And as everyone knows, he’s frustrating the heck out of Hollywood. They have seen Perry’s success and they want their piece of it. Unfortunately for them, Lionsgate was the only studio that was willing to take a chance on him and they are riding high on Perry’s box office and television successes.

By the time he left, I think he had a little more understanding about what was ahead of him. He still has a lot to learn and I hope he doesn’t give up.

As I’m new to the publishing industry, I know I still have so much to learn. But learn I will. And I won’t stop until I get to the top.

Write and Wrong – Part 1

So, this past weekend, I was privileged to join author Bettye Griffin at a book signing at the Borders in Matteson, IL. (Bettye’s new book, “A New Kind of Bliss” was released last week.) In addition to purchasing several copies of her books (including a few as Mother’s Day gifts), I assisted Bettye by putting “Autographed Copy” stickers on her signed books and updating her display. I also tried to draw in potential customers doing my best carny imitation. (“Hey c’mon, meet the author, buy a book!” One lady actually did, so that was cool.)

Later, Bettye and I cruised Borders (she for some music, me to do some rearranging of displays in the AA section, but that’s another story) and then headed for lunch at Panera. Bettye is one of the warmest, most generous people that I have met. Besides being a great author, she’s also one of the most gracious, offering words of advice and encouragement when asked.

Which leads to my thoughts on an encounter we had with a young man while at Borders. The man was obviously impressed with meeting a real author in person and proceeded to ask her a question about acquiring an agent. Bettye gave him some excellent advice and I directed him to several books in the reference section that would help him. He told me that he was in school and wanted to write screenplays and novels. It was clear that he was just starting out as he had never heard of any of the resources I pointed out to him, including The Writer’s Market.

I went back to Bettye to continue my hawking and the young man came back. He asked Bettye about her writing career, the types of books she wrote, how much she got for royalties. Bettye, gracious as always, answered each question (though she clearly didn’t talk specifics on money). At some point, we got into the issue of publishing and book placement. The young man said, “I don’t want to be known as an African American author.” (Did I mention he was African American?) Bettye and I laughed. Then he turned and gestured towards the AA section and said, “I’ve seen the stuff over there and the quality isn’t that great. That’s not what I want to write.” Bettye and I laughed again (me more so to keep from knocking him upside his head). Again, Bettye graciously explained why we were laughing. “We’re laughing because we know what the real deal is.”

I’ll explain the “real deal” in the next post.