Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Saturday, October 17, 2026

The Scariest Part of Writing a Book

 

Halloween is almost upon us, and with it comes the familiar appearance of ghosts, goblins, witches, werewolves, vampires, and other creatures of the night. These are the things that make ordinary people shiver from fright. But authors? Oh, we know a different kind of fear.

Authors have stared for hours into the horrifying emptiness of a blank page. We have lost our way in tangled plots with no clear exit. We have been haunted by characters who refuse to cooperate. And we have been tormented by story endings that wickedly deny us a satisfying conclusion.

And then there is the most dreadful experience of all: rereading yesterday's brilliant writing only to discover that it transformed into complete rubbish overnight.

Forget haunted houses. Try spending six months writing a novel, only to discover a plot hole big enough to swallow the entire cast! Now that is frightening.

Allow me to introduce you to a few of the horrors that lurk in the shadows of an author's life.

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The Curse of the Blank Page

There is nothing quite so intimidating as a blank page staring back at you. The glaring whiteness. The complete emptiness. It mocks you.

With a whirlwind of inspiration swirling in your head, you sit down at the computer, fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to create a masterpiece. At that very moment, every clever idea vanishes into thin air.

You type a sentence. Delete it. Type another. Delete that one too. After an hour of intense concentration, you manage to produce two words: Chapter One.

Congratulations. You are officially a writer.

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The Characters Who Refuse to Behave

You conceive your own unique characters. You name them. You give them personalities, histories, ambitions, and carefully planned futures. You are their creator—the supreme authority over their fictional universe.

Or so you think.

Somewhere around chapter seven, your obedient heroine develops an attitude. Your villain decides he would rather be misunderstood than be seen as entirely evil. Two characters who were never supposed to fall in love cannot keep their eyes off each other. And the character you planned to kill in chapter twelve? He refuses to die.

You argue. You threaten. You remind them who is in charge.

They laugh.

At some point, you surrender and rewrite the outline.

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The Plot Hole from Transylvania

Halfway through typing the initial manuscript, a horrifying realization strikes.

Your hero could not possibly have witnessed the murder because he was locked in a dungeon three hundred miles away. Your heroine somehow knows a secret that nobody ever told her. And the magical sword destroyed in chapter four has somehow mysteriously reappeared in chapter nineteen.

You stare at the screen in disbelief.

How did this happen? Someone must have sabotaged your manuscript while you were sleeping. Unfortunately, you are the only suspect.

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The Nightmare of Endless Revisions

Some people believe writing a book involves sitting at a computer, typing the story from beginning to end, and then happily sending it off to be published.

If only.

Writing the first draft is merely the beginning. Next come the revisions. Then more revisions. Then revisions of the revisions. You rearrange paragraphs, rewrite dialogue, eliminate unnecessary scenes, and hunt down adjectives that have multiplied like gremlins after midnight.

Eventually, you reach the point where you have read the same chapter so many times that the words no longer resemble English. So you declare the manuscript finished. Done. No more.

Three days later, you open it again because apparently writers enjoy suffering.

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The Ghost of Deleted Chapters

Every author has a graveyard. Mine is filled with discarded scenes, abandoned conversations, beautiful descriptions that served absolutely no purpose, and entire chapters that simply did not belong in the finished story.

Some were removed without remorse. Others required a painful farewell.

You spend hours crafting a scene you adore, only to realize it contributes nothing to the plot.

"But it's so beautifully written!" you protest.

Your inner editor folds its arms.

"But the dialogue is perfect!"

Your inner editor frowns and shakes its head.

"But I worked on it for THREE WHOLE DAYS!"

Your inner editor points rigidly at the delete key.

Somewhere, a tiny violin (or perhaps an old pipe organ) begins to play.

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The Terrifying Moment You Press Publish

You survived the blank page, the rebellious characters, the monstrous plot holes, and the seemingly endless torture of revisions. Your book is now finished. Edited. Formatted. Ready for readers across the world. All that is left is to press the button that makes it available for purchase.

Suddenly, your imagination becomes your worst enemy.

What if nobody likes it? What if somebody discovers a typo on page two? What if readers hate your favorite character? What if they love the villain more than the hero? What if your mom reads that one scene?

Your finger hovers over the SUBMIT button.

You consider changing your name to Danielle Evangelina Blackmont. Instead, you close your eyes, summon up the courage, and click.

There. You did it.

Now comes the truly terrifying part—waiting for reviews.

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The Sequel That Lurks in the Shadows

At last, your book is published. You lean back in your chair, breathe a sigh of relief, and congratulate yourself on surviving another literary adventure. You imagine a few peaceful weeks without deadlines, plot complications, or imaginary people demanding your attention. Then, just as you drift off to sleep, a new character appears in your mind:

"Hello," the creature says. "I have a story to tell you."

You pull the covers up over your head. "Go away."

"But it's a marvelous story."

You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Just one chapter," the creature insists as his features start to take shape.

And somewhere in the darkness, your next novel begins.

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Why I Keep Returning to the Haunted Writing Desk

Despite the frustrations, sleepless nights, and occasional desire to throw a laptop out the window, I would not trade the experience of being an author for any other vocation.

There is magic in creating new characters who never before existed. It is a wonderful delight when their personalities become real and they begin to interact with you. To watch their stories unfold is incredibly exciting, and there is real satisfaction in solving every stubborn story problem that comes along. I feel genuine joy at finally finding the right words, the right phrases, to express my ideas.

Yes, writing is exhausting. It is maddening, unpredictable, and occasionally frightening. But it is an adventure I willingly choose again and again.

So this Halloween, while the rest of the world worries about ghosts, monsters, and things that go bump in the night, I will be sitting at my desk, bravely facing a far more frightening creature—my unfinished manuscript. And if you happen to hear a bloodcurdling scream tear from my office, do not worry. I probably just discovered another plot hole.

Happy Halloween, and happy reading everyone!

—Richelle E. Goodrich


A question for my readers: 

Have you ever wondered what goes on behind the scenes of your favorite stories?

Thursday, January 5, 2023

Glancing Back, Looking Forward to 2023



 A Decade of Change: Me in 2012 and again in 2022

   
     At the beginning of a new year, it is traditional to take a good, long look over my shoulder at things I both accomplished and survived in prior years. As I have stated in the past, I prefer to shine a spotlight on my books rather than on my personal life, but 2022 has been one event-filled year for me, so I don't mind sharing a few of the bigger moments. 
        My eldest son graduated in June with a Masters of Science in Software Engineering. Big accomplishment! My middle son was accepted into the mechanical engineering major program at his university. He is working hard to pass those difficult classes. My youngest son returned to school to pursue his degree. He is close to finishing. He also proposed to his girlfriend (now fiancĂ©e) on the steps of the Nashville Parthenon. How exciting! My father, unfortunately, suffered some health problems this past year including a case of Covid. He has since healed and is regaining his strength with the aid of physical therapy. 
        The biggest change in 2022 was my own. After three years of dating a wonderful man, I married him in August. My new husband is a kind, gentle, supportive, noble, fun-loving person who enjoys reading. Ours was a long-distance relationship (never an easy way to date) but he won me over by reading books to me over the phone. Not only does he read aloud, he does voices! Yes, I fell for a storyteller. Before the wedding, I spent two months packing up my house, then sold it, and finally moved across the country to live in a new city that has proven to be quite friendly. It certainly has been a year of big personal change and positive growth. 
         What about my writing goals? It is hard to believe a decade has gone by since I published my first book, Eena, The Dawn and Rescue. I love that story. It recounts the adventures of a young girl destined to rule a strange but fascinating nation. It was my debut novel as well as a unique learning opportunity. Since then, I have gained a great deal of knowledge about the writing process, and I have grown markedly as a novelist and poet.
         What began as a challenge to compose a single book became the catalyst for an unanticipated love of storytelling. Eena, The Dawn and Rescue was quickly followed by a second book that continued along the same storyline. Then came book three, followed by yet another. It still amazes me how I was able to write an entire six-book saga within a four-year period! Absolutely not my initial goal!
         After completing the Harrowbethian Saga, I branched out to try my hand at comprising original quotes, thoughts, and poetry for every day of the year. Smile Anyway was the result, and it turned out to be a bigger success than expected. The shocking surprise was finding my book quotes reprinted in news articles as well as in various other books. And not just a few! It has been a thrill to see my quotes scroll by on websites, reprinted in an Oxford Philosophy: Being Human course book and in seven different Chicken Soup for the Soul books, and even shared on a tv episode of Alone. What a treat! 
         With the success of Smile Anyway, I went on to write three additional quote/poetry/short-story books for my sons as high school graduation gifts: Making Wishes, Slaying Dragons, and Being Bold. Part of the gift included 50% of the royalties from the sale of every book. Not a bad way to help out struggling college students.
         As much as I love fantasy and science fiction, I have always admired the great novelists, my personal favorite being Victor Hugo. It stood to reason that I would challenge myself to write a stand-alone novel with both dramatic and tragic elements. Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher was the result of this endeavor. Composing Annabelle's story caused me many tearful moments; her story was not easy to tell. I doubt it can be read with a dry eye or a callous heart. The book was designed to stir up feelings of shock, anger, and dismay for the cruel and unjust situations so often overlooked in society. Writing Dandelions was an emotional trial as much as it was a writing challenge, which is why I wrote a lighthearted tale to accompany the novel. Secrets of a Noble Key Keeper is a short, fun fairy tale all ages will enjoy.
         Last year, I published my thirteenth book, entirely unique from my previous writings. The Tarishe Curse was originally meant to be a simple short story for a friend who loves All Hallows Eve. But as my friend asked questions about what happens next, I was obliged to come up with a new chapter every Halloween. After so many years of adding chapters, one by one, it became apparent that a book was ready and waiting to be completed. The hardest part was devising an ending that wrapped up the whole crazy ordeal! It took some creativity, but it gave me an idea for a backstory about one formidable character in the book. Something to look forward to in the future!
         Another thing I like to do every New Years is compare my starting numbers on social media with any growth. It motivates me to see improvement. Be it slow or small, progress is progress! Increases in followers, book sales, ratings & reviews, internet posts, and/or loyal readers is forward movement toward my goals.  

THEN

NOW

Ten years ago, 8 people considered my writing inspiring enough to call themselves a fan or follower on Goodreads. 

 

Today, 250 people now follow me on Goodreads. Thank you!

Ten years ago, 40 people liked my most popular book quote on Goodreads out of thirty quotes posted at the time.

 

Today, my most popular quote on Goodreads has 409 likes out of the 1,678 original quotes posted. Wow! I guess I have a lot to say.

 

Ten years ago, I started with 3 Twitter followers. 

 

Today, I have 2,295. Thank you too!

 

Six years ago, my author website had 13,552 visits. 

 

Today, my author website has had 27,232 visits (and counting.) Nice!

 

Six years ago, 441 people followed my Facebook author page. 

 

Today, 921 people follow my Facebook author page.

Six years ago, 397 followed my Instagram.

 

Today, 596 follow my Instagram page.

Six years ago, 41 followed me on Tumblr. 

 

Today, 124 follow me on Tumbler. Slow and steady progress.

 


 
     As I have said many times, I am indeed grateful for my readers and supporters. Thank you for purchasing my books. Thank you for leaving kind reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, and other websites where my books are sold; it helps more than you know. Thank you for telling friends and acquaintances about my written works. I am grateful to live in a day and place where I have the privilege of educational opportunities, writing opportunities, and self-publishing opportunities. What a magnificent blessing! No matter how slow or fast the progress, I am accomplishing my goals, and that makes me happy.

Happy New Year 2023! 




Monday, August 2, 2021

An Excerpt from Slaying Dragons

 

"Many of us draw lines which we intend never to cross.

But life tests our resolve, mercilessly at times, and a foot budges, nudged past that thinly-drawn line. So we draw another, resolving never to cross this one. Days grow dark and fog creeps in to blind our view, clouding the reason for the line’s existence from our minds. We draw another mark, ashamed that the last was crossed with less coaxing than we imagined it would require. Shadows and doubts give further need to draw a new line, and then another and another.

Lines, I think, are too slim and obscure to be dependable deterrents for behavior. Too often, too easily, people stumble into places they later regret entering. What, then, keeps some individuals from crossing those narrow lines?

It is the power of values.

For if a person possessing values were to step one foot outside their line, they would be forced to release hands with those inflexible values and consciously abandon them. But their values are persuasive, keeping a tight grip, warding off the luring temptations beckoning one to test the line. Thus values maintained keep a person safely away from areas they dare not travel, steering a life between the lines, enhancing willpower and shaping mighty strength of character."

―Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year 





Friday, March 12, 2021

What to Expect from Author, Richelle E. Goodrich, in 2021




“Enemies may unite to eliminate a common threat, but never without a wary eye fixed on their ally.”  
― Richelle E. Goodrich, The Tarishe Curse


Writing Again

     Yes, it has been a while since I last published a newsletter—nearly two years, actually. Hard to believe so many months have passed since I seriously sat down and authored anything creative. My heart and mind have found it difficult to focus on fictional worlds and poetry because a lot has happened in my real world.

     Normally, I refrain from mentioning much about my personal life; I prefer to shine the spotlight on my books rather than on me. But the truth is, my life was greatly upset some months ago. My circumstances were altered in drastic ways. I will not say tragic, because trials often prove to be doorways to improvement and growth, though I doubt many of us (if any) pray for experience in the form of harsh trials. Nonetheless, I have evolved throughout these months and find my life far better for what was done. I did not desire the hardships—betrayal and divorce (drop an epidemic on top of it)—but you can hardly force people to do or say or choose what you wish. It is not like shaping book characters where you can write a happy ending and make it so. But “what’s done is done,” as they say, and though I am not quite “right as rain,” I am well, confident, and happy.

     And I am ready to write again.

     That said… some of you may recall how in October of 2012 I started an annual Hallows Eve tradition. It was the year Duvalla, the Queen of Werefolk, came to life in my chilling tale titled The Tarishe Curse. Originally, it started as a short story written for a friend; I had no intention of creating a world around Duvalla. But curiosity as to “what happens next” made me consider the possibility of further adventures for the werewolves. I decided to add to the story the next Hallows Eve… and every October since (excepting last October for above mentioned reasons.)

     This year I made it my goal to finish writing The Tarishe Curse in its entirety. I will then self-publish the completed book in e-book, paperback, and hardcover forms. I hope to have this done with illustrated cover sometime in 2022. I am excited to give readers a spectacular ending—wild, blood-tingling, unpredictable, and well worth the long wait!

     In the meantime… where can you sample some beginning pages? Well, you are in luck! The first part of Duvalla’s story is posted on my author blogsite. Feel free to read it and share the link with friends. My plan is to have The Tarishe Curse available to preorder by the end of 2022… hopefully.


Read sample pages NOW!


SUMMARY: A thrilling piece of fiction from the Queen of Werefolk's point of view. It is challenging enough for Duvalla and Kresh to protect their young family in a world of Hallows Eve creatures, but such a feat proves near impossible when a witch bent on vengeance against the werewolves casts a Tarishe curse that manipulates both heart and mind. The fight is not only with the sword but an internal struggle to love the ones Duvalla has sworn under a spell to hate, and hate the one who through evil enchantment manipulates her heart.

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What else am I working on?

Besides putting my main efforts into finishing up The Tarishe Curse, I am writing new poems to include in my book of original poetry, A Heart Made of Tissue Paper. I plan to include a few black-and-white illustrations with this book.



Wednesday, February 3, 2021

Little Gracie Gubler

 

Little Gracie Gubler was eight. She was a striking sight with her lava-red hair that hung as curly as a piglet’s tail and the sprinkling of cinnamon freckles on her nose and cheeks and fingers and toes. When she stood in place, it was with both feet apart, hands on her hips, shoulders square, chin high, lips grinning as if she were the most remarkable child in a school where nearly every other student towered over her. The truth is, Gracie’s confidence and pluck overflowed more than most. And it happened that these qualities—made manifest in her demeanor and countenance—were hard not to stare at.

Now, this freckle-faced, sprightly child had been born with a small frame and small ears that were somehow well-tuned to surrounding chit-chat. And Gracie Gubler had no qualms about joining in on a transpiring conversation if the topic proved of interest to her. In fact, she did so quite often. On one tulip-blooming spring day she happened to overhear Jeffrey Turner and Dylan Ewing gossiping about Mr. Quilter’s bald head—a head that had been covered with blond fuzz just a week ago. It was the last time they had seen their math teacher until he walked into school that morning without his hair. Jeffrey and Dylan were discussing Mr. Quilter as if they were piecing together a puzzle that would reveal the whole story; never mind if there existed any amount of truth to it.

“I heard that he was away on family business.”

“That’s what adults call it when it’s serious.”

“Yeah, like when someone dies.”

“Or when they’re going to die….like from a disease.”

“Like cancer.”

“Yeah. You know, they shave your head bald if you get cancer.”

“No they don’t; your hair falls out on its own. That’s what cancer does. That’s how they know you have it.”

“Well, it amounts to the same thing.”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, really. And either way your head ends out bald, just like Mr. Quilter.”

“Poor guy’s probably real sick. No wonder he needed a week off.”

“Yeah. I bet he doesn’t even know that when your hair falls out it’s the worst kind of cancer. He’ll probably be dead in another week.”

“Or sooner.” The boys sighed a dismal sigh in concert. About that time, Gracie Gubler joined in their conversation.

“Do you two know what you’re talking about?” she asked. “Did Mr. Quilter tell you he was sick?”

Dylan and Jeffrey exchanged a guarded glance before answering. “Well, no, not exactly, but he didn’t have to say anything. He missed a week of school and came back with no hair…”

“And he’s acting really tired. It’s obvious he’s seriously sick.”

“Yeah, and only cancer takes all your hair that fast.”

Gracie pursed her lips together and placed both hands on her hips before swiveling about and marching directly to the school’s math room. There she found Mr. Quilter sitting at his desk, his bald head lowered into his hands. He did look tired. The classroom was empty; all the kids were outside on the playground.

Gracie interrupted the math teacher by clearing her voice. When he looked up, she asked him a simple question.

“Mr. Quilter, why is your head bald?”

After flashing a humored smile, he proceeded to explain how he had flown home to attend the funeral of his grandfather the prior week, and during that time he had been invited to play on his brother’s basketball team. Mr. Quilter had eagerly agreed, being tall and athletic and quite fond of the game. He had been less eager to agree to shaving his head in order to look like the other team players who took great pride in reflecting through appearances their team name—the Bald Eagles. However, a little guilt-ridden convincing by his brother had done the trick. Mr. Quilter flashed a wry smile as he rubbed his head and told Gracie, “It does make for faster showers in the morning.”

Little Gracie told her math teacher that she thought he looked fine with a bald head. Then she marched outside to report the truth to Jeffrey and Dylan who had already convinced a dozen surrounding children that they would soon be getting a new math teacher. Gracie stated that it was not so.

Later that day, outside the local grocery store where a troop of girl scouts was selling mint crèmes and coconut clusters and chunky chocolate cookies, Gracie was exiting the store behind her mother who stopped to purchase three boxes of mint crèmes, supporting the troop that her friend, Karin Summers, happened to direct as a parent volunteer. Both adults watched a neighbor lady, Miss Tyra Darling, walk out of the store carrying a case of beer in either hand. They began to talk in loud whispers, easily overheard by curious, young ears.

“That’s four cases this week. I saw Tyra purchase two cases a couple days ago.”

“Really? I say, that’s an awful lot of beer for a single woman who lives alone.”

“She’s got an obvious drinking problem. Beverly, who lives right next door to Tyra, told me no one ever comes over to that lonely house. Tyra never throws any parties or anything. Not that Beverly wants any loud, drunken partiers carrying on next door.”

“No, no, I’m sure she doesn’t want that. She would have to call the cops on something like that.”

“The woman is just a serious alcoholic. No doubt she’ll die from a bad liver—young and miserably alone.”

“What a tragedy. I don’t understand why people do stuff like that to themselves.”

During this conversation, every girl scout from Hannah Pepper to Hallie Nogues had their ears perked, listening. Gracie Gubler, alone, spun about and marched toward the silver sedan in which Tyra Darling had deposited her two cases of beer. The woman was just opening the driver’s seat door when a chipper “excuse me” stopped her. Gracie went to stand directly under Tyra’s nose and looked up to ask a simple question.

“Miss Darling, are you going to drink all of those beers yourself?”

The shocked recipient of the question put a hand to her heart, and her cheeks flushed red. She laughed at the thought. “Oh dear, dear, no, no!” She then leaned forward and explained to little Gracie that her hobby and passion was gardening. Every spring and summer she tended to a half an acre of garden behind her house which included rare flowers mixed with all sorts of herbs, fruits, and vegetables. The beer was used as bait in homemade bowl-traps that effectively lured and killed slugs, snails, and earwigs. She also sprayed the trees and bushes with beer because it attracted the most beautiful butterflies to her garden. Tyra laughed again and skewed her eyebrows. “I don’t even like the taste of beer,” she said. “But I will admit, I do mix up a pretty good beer batter when I’m in the mood for a fish fry.”

After accepting Miss Darling’s invitation to drop by at a later date and visit the beer-fertilized garden, Little Gracie Gubler marched back to report the truth to her mother and Karin (as well as the eavesdropping girl scouts.) The adults stared silently at Gracie for a few stunned moments.

“Huh, that’s good to know.”

“Yeah. I wonder if I could get her beer batter recipe.”

The next day at school, freckle-faced Gracie was in the library checking out a fairy tale storybook about Dimearians—people born with moth-type wings on their backs. She cocked an ear when she overheard Russ Montgomery whispering (partly because he was in a library and partly because he was gossiping) about LeiAnn Jones, a new girl from Wisconsin who had joined their class two weeks prior. She had proven to be a quiet sort and had checked out five thick books after receiving special permission from the librarian.

“She’s a snot, I tell you. Thinks she’s smarter and better than the rest of us. I bet she doesn’t even read those books. Just showing off, hoping the rest of us will think Wisconsin grows brainiacs like it grows cheese.”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t grow cheese…” someone started to say.

“You know what I mean. That LeiAnn girl is so big-headed, she won’t even say ‘how d’ya do’ to anyone. Has she talked to you? ‘Cause she hasn’t said one word to me.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Nope.”

“Not one word.”

“And have you said one word to her?”

The question took the other kids by surprise, in part because it was voiced louder than appropriate for a library setting, but mostly because the speaker had not been included in the conversation. Gracie Gubler ran her probing eyes over every kid huddled about the reading table. Then she turned and headed to a corner of the library where LeiAnn Jones was sitting by herself with a pile of books on her lap. She had one cracked open hiding her face. It took LeiAnn a moment to lower the book when she heard someone address her by name. As soon as Gracie could see the blue of LeiAnn’s eyes, she asked a simple question.

“Why don’t you join the rest of the class at the reading table?”

LeiAnn glanced in the direction of the other kids who were staring with tight eyes at Gracie’s back. The new girl swallowed hard, and then timidly explained that she felt uncomfortable. No one had invited her to sit with them, and she didn’t want to assume they would welcome her. Shrugging it off, she told the inquisitive red-head that she was fine—“I have my books.” LeiAnn then confessed, “I’m not very good at making new friends.”

After chatting with LeiAnn Jones, finding that they had a common love for fantasy books, Gracie marched back to the reading table to report the truth to Russ Montgomery and the other children, after which a few of them decided to go introduce themselves to the new girl.

And so it was with Gracie. Whenever she heard someone speak a word of assuming gossip, she was quick to learn and share the truth. Thus, Bobby Black learned that he had not been callously dumped by Darin Caraway as a best friend; the birthday invitation had been mailed by his mother to the wrong address. Elizabeth Bifano learned that Kimmy Jackson did in fact adore her daisy-yellow dress, even though Kimmy’s least favorite color in the world was yellow. Madelyn Jenks learned that their school teacher did not own a jar where he kept the names of bad students he meant to feed to the alligators at the end of the school year. And Mindi Bergeson learned that Scarlet Elliott’s unfortunate case of acne was not the result of kissing frogs in the pond on the Elliot’s farm. Therefore, when anyone saw the little freckle-faced redhead marching near, they would check their conversation—because if their comments weren’t the verified truth, it was foolish business to gossip in front of Gracie Gubler.


-- A short story from Slaying Dragons by Richelle E. Goodrich

Copyright 2017 Richelle E. Goodrich




Wednesday, January 6, 2021

New Writing Goals


     This last New Year's Eve, I jotted down a few goals to accomplish, which of course include eating healthier and writing significantly more; those are ongoing. I am presently working on a story I started a few years back--a Hallows Eve short story that, year-by-year, has evolved into a book. My goal is to finish writing the entire book and then illustrate a beautiful cover before publishing this magical tale about the cursed Queen of Werefolk. Look for the complete story of The Tarishe Curse in 2022. It will be a truly epic treat!


Book Summary:

A thrilling piece of fiction from the Queen of Werefolk's point of view. It is challenging enough for Duvalla and Kresh to protect their young family in a world of Hallows Eve creatures, but such a feat proves near impossible when a witch bent on vengeance against the werewolves casts a Tarishe curse that manipulates both heart and mind. The fight is not only with the sword but an internal struggle to love the ones Duvalla has sworn under a spell to hate, and hate the one who through evil enchantment manipulates her heart.

Thursday, December 31, 2020

Looking Back, I See Progress



    Eight years ago, I published my first book, Eena, The Dawn and Rescue. 

 
  It was a huge accomplishment for me. A dream that I worked hard to make a reality. At the time my book debuted, I introduced myself on social media. It was exciting to gain followers and receive feedback on my work. It was a surprise to discover quotes from my book and later books printed in magazines, newsletters, and on various social sites. it was touching to hear from individuals who told me my words influenced their lives. 

     Over the past eight years I have been blessed to have my book quotes appear in a variety of places, including in seven plus versions of Chicken Soup for the Soul, in an Oxford Philosophy: Being Human course book, in a Revlon ad magazine campaign, and on an opening scene of the television program, Alone. What a thrill!

     I enjoy looking back to compare the starting numbers with present numbers. It is motivating to see progress. I have learned to appreciate the slow and steady increase in followers, book sales, internet posts, and loyal readers.  On the brink of a new year, one in which I place great expectations, it seems like the perfect time for personal reflection. So here goes...

Eight years ago, 40 people liked my most popular book quote on Goodreads. I had about thirty quotes on Goodreads at the time. 
Four years ago, my most popular quote reached 237 likes (out of 977 posted on Goodreads.)  
Today, my most popular quote on Goodreads has 371 likes, and there are now1,665 of my book quotes posted on Goodreads. Wow! I guess I have a lot to say.

Eight years ago, 8 people considered my writing inspiring enough to call themselves a fan or follower on Goodreads. 
Four years ago, the number reached 149. 
Today, 228 people now follow me as fans on Goodreads. Thank you!

Eight years ago, I started out with 3 followers on Twitter. 
Four years ago, that number increased to 887. 
Today, I have 2,294 Twitter followers. Thank you too!

Four years ago, 13,552 visits were made to my author website. 
Today, my author website has had 20,089 visits (and counting.) Yay!

Four years ago, 441 people followed my Facebook author page, 397 followed me on Instagram, and 41 followed me on Tumblr. 
Today, 581 people follow my Facebook author page, 466 follow my Instagram page, and 155 follow me on Tumbler. Slow and steady progress.




From the first book I published in April of 2012, eleven other self-published books have followed: a six-book saga titled the Harrowbethian Saga, a Novel with an  accompanying short fairytale, and four motivational books that give readers an original quote/poem/story for every day of the year. I love this stuff!




     I am grateful to all who have supported me as a poet and novelist. Thank you for purchasing my books. Thank you for leaving kind comments and reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, and other websites where my books are sold--it really helps. Thank you for telling friends and acquaintances about my written works. 

     2021 promises to be a perfect year for writing. It may not be lightning fast, but I am clearly moving closer to reaching my goals as a writer. I can see it as I look back at my progress.

Happy New Year, all,