It’s hard to believe I am already talking about The Watch & Wand’s release in the past tense, so instead, I invite you to follow the link to a conversation I had with Sacha Black regarding my thoughts on the future (I’ll give you a hint, I find it both exciting and terrifying). Once again I’ve disabled comments here. While you are there, check out information about the 2018 Bloggers Bash. I was lucky enough to attend this past summer and it was an absolute blast (educational too).
Today I am thrilled to have an epic geek-out with my dear friend and slave driver accountability partner Allie Potts. If you don’t know Allie, she writes both cyberpunk style dystopian fantas…
This is it. The big launch week for The Watch & Wand and a few wonderful members of the blogging community have been nice enough to help spread the word.
I’ve turned off comments on this post but would encourage you to click on the link at the bottom and maybe poke around on some of the other posts you see there.
From time to time we like to feature insights by other authors here on the blog. This time, Allie Potts, a friend of the blog and victim of our internet show Writers Off Task With Friends, pays a v…
Barring acts of God or radioactive slime beast hellbent on scaling the largest tower in my city while simultaneously leaving a swart of destruction in its wake, by this time next week, my book children will officially outnumber my human children.
I am going to level with you – it hasn’t been easy.
When my first bookborn arrived, I didn’t have a clue what to expect. I did whatever any new bookparent would. First I converted a small underused space on the internet into a cozy little site where my bookbaby and my author platform might grow side by side. I overbought supplies (many of which I hadn’t the first clue how to effectively use) so I might be ready for any occasion. I sent out cards alerting the friends and family. I hung up bright shiny pictures of its cover positioned in various poses and dreamed about all the things I thought it might one day be.
I nested. I sanitized my words. I reached out to other new bookmoms and bookdads for sympathy, tips or other advice.
But I was overwhelmed and no matter how much attention I bestowed, my bookbaby still always demanded more.
I consulted the experts who all agreed that the best thing I could do, for us both, was to give my bookbaby a sibling.
I made a choice.
So after a lengthy labor of love, culminating on one cold rainy night, my second bookbaby made its grand first appearance. After the launch, I wanted nothing more than to get some rest and enjoy the benefit of my expanded catalog. Only things didn’t work between the two quite as smoothly as I imagined.
For one, the newest edition was a completely different genre, meaning, as I learned in short order, I wouldn’t be able to utilize most any marketing hand-me-downs. Nor did either book’s temperament allow me to bundle them together. Well… shoot.
I consulted the experts once again on what to do. The answer was the same.
Write more books (preferably this time in the same genre).
But at this point, my other children, my human children were no longer going to bed early or taking mid-day naps, nor was the day job getting any less demanding.
Then, to make matters worse, the words stopped flowing. Not all at once, but bit by bit until one day I realized that somewhere along the line, I’d let my story slip.
I found myself at the base of a mountain – a mountain of a goal – a goal I’d created.
Once upon a time a mother and daughter went out for a walk. They chatted along the way, mostly about the daughter’s progress on her latest book project which was underway, but was far from done. The mother innocently asked a question about one of the supporting characters.
A year later, the words End of Book Two, were typed on an entirely different book than the one originally planned, but a book that was so much better than that first draft.
For that, all I can say is thanks, mom.
Fifteen years have passed. The future no longer seems as bright. Between a war declared on all but the most basic technology, worldwide economic collapse, and a plague-spurred global panic, governments have collapsed leaving law and order to be defined by those left behind. Stephen knows he should be grateful, but can’t help wishing his life was more than survival.
That was until he met a girl on the run from a group known as the Watch.
Now, caught between rival factions with their own hidden agendas, Stephen has no choice but to go on a mission to reclaim a piece of missing technology.
He is told the device is the key to a better future, but in the new order, one person’s salvation can be another’s total destruction.
Available December 2017.
I have a few spots remaining for those interested in receiving an advance copy for reviews. Those interested should contact me at allie AT alliepottswrites.com.
Want to catch up before the big release?
The Fair & Foul: Project Gene Assist Book One can be found at here
“Allie Potts does a marvelous job of creating a group of characters that even above their arrogant brilliance are still only human. Even when all seems lost, and things are piling up against our heroine, Allie consistently throws in a few surprises with things both fair and foul. This book keeps you on the edge of your seat. Well done, Ms. Potts!”
A three-day weekend loomed in front of us and our plan was to have no plan. We’d sleep in as much as the children allowed. We’d stay in. After being away from home most weekends in August, my husband and I were looking forward to tackling a few projects but generally doing nothing more than relaxing. It would be a weekend to simply enjoy being a family.
It was a good plan.
I’d no sooner stepped out of my bedroom Saturday morning when I was met in the hall by my eldest son and his best friend, Biff. “Mom! Biff invited me to go with them to a mud run. Can I go? Can I?” I blinked. I hadn’t drunk enough coffee that morning to be able to process that level of excitement. It was a wonder I’d even gotten into my day clothes already.
I stalled. “Those things usually cost money.”
“My mom will take care of it,” Biff assured me.
I felt like there was something I was missing. Kiddo would be out of the house all morning? He’d be exercising instead of alternating between begging me to allow him to binge-watch his latest favorite cartoon (there are only six seasons, mom), creating Lego minefields, or complaining about how bored he was and I wouldn’t have to pay for it? It seemed too good to be true.
It was.
We learned no such offer had been authorized. Sure, Kiddo was welcome to come along (the more the merrier!) but the insurance waiver clearly stated that a legally responsible adult must be present along with every child. One of us, either my husband or I, would have to go with Kiddo else live with a weekend long case of ‘you are the worst parents ever!’ There went our relaxing morning.
My husband and I faced off like gunslingers at noon in an old western.
“It’s only a couple of miles,” my husband pointed out.
“You are the one training to run another marathon,” I reminded his father.
*do-la-doooooo wha wha whaaaaaa*
“Please?” I swear Kiddo batted his eyelashes. (Don’t ask me where he learned that trick).
My husband broke first. “I’ll go change.”
LT, our youngest, caught wind of the conversation. He had no idea what a mud run was, but his brother and father were going. He would not be left out or heads would roll (as would the rest of him as his tantrums are typically full body affairs). Then all four of us were at the starting line with the elder Potts guys in their work out attire and me and LT standing on the spectator side with a camera and their spare clothes.
A fog horn blew and then they were off.
This is after he swam across a pond. My washing machine is demanding a raise
A short time later, two incredibly filthy smiling faces crossed the finish line. I know they were smiling because the only part that wasn’t covered in brown was their shiny teeth. The shoes they’d worn were tossed in a pile which would be industrially cleaned and donated to those in need. A large tanker truck provided the water needed to remove the mud from Kiddo’s ear. Speakers blasted music while LT grabbed fistfuls of grass and rubbed them into his hair and across his belly in order to look like one of the participants. We hadn’t brought a change of clothes for him, but I found I didn’t mind. Not one part of the morning had gone to plan, but it was still a good morning.
No. It was a better morning.
I am a planner by nature as much as by habit. I set goals. I track milestones. I know how to keep a program advancing, but though it is making me twitchy writing this, there are times you have to focus on the outcome, but let the plan go.
“Stay committed to your decisions, but stay flexible in your approach.” – Tony Robbins
I was supposed to have another book out by now, but my characters rebelled. I found myself asking what was more important? My outline or my outcome.
I thought my outline was a good one. I’d put real thought into it. I’d spent hours if not days planning and pacing. I’d created character profiles and scene summaries. I’d researched setting. It should have worked, but it didn’t, and ultimately I allowed myself the flexibility to adapt moving forward. I picked outcome.
Though I hate that it has taken so long to get to this point, I have to admit my characters were right. I rewrote my plan. I altered my method. I’ve received my feedback from my beta readers and all that is left to do is a few manageable rewrites and work through my final edits before sending it out to the next round of advanced proof readers (if that sounds like something you’d enjoy, please contact me at allie AT alliepottswrites DOT com).
The path to publishing this book may have deviated from my plan. It’s taken a few twists and gotten messy along the way but my commitment has never wavered. With a little patience and a whole lot of support, I will publish this book and it may just be better than I ever planned for.
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It’s hard to believe I am already talking about The Watch & Wand’s release in the past tense, so instead, I invite you to follow the link to a conversation I had with Sacha Black regarding my thoughts on the future (I’ll give you a hint, I find it both exciting and terrifying). Once again I’ve disabled comments here. While you are there, check out information about the 2018 Bloggers Bash. I was lucky enough to attend this past summer and it was an absolute blast (educational too).
Fifteen years have passed. The future no longer seems as bright. Between a war declared on all but the most basic technology, worldwide economic collapse, and a plague-spurred global panic, governments have collapsed leaving law and order to be defined by those left behind. Stephen knows he should be grateful, but can’t help wishing his life was more than survival.
A three-day weekend loomed in front of us and our plan was to have no plan. We’d sleep in as much as the children allowed. We’d stay in. After being away from home most weekends in August, my husband and I were looking forward to tackling a few projects but generally doing nothing more than relaxing. It would be a weekend to simply enjoy being a family.
Allie Potts 