by Sarah | Jun 27, 2010 | Changing Tracks, Contests
Last week I had another first.
I entered Changing Tracks into its first contest.
After I hit send I wandered around the website for the contest. Then I panicked. I had known from the start that this particular contest gives ms feedback to all of its entries. At least, I had read it. It didn’t really hit me until after.
I think it was seeing the form that they use for feedback that did it. Looking at all the areas the scant 35 pages they are seeing will be judged.
Don’t get me wrong – I’ve known all along that the ms would be judged. Not just in this contest, but by every single agent that receives a partial.
There is something about having every little detail laid out in front of you in black and white that makes you start to panic. Seriously. Palms sweating, mind racing, ‘what did I just do’ panic.
I calmed down. I moved on. I’ve continued editing and fine tuning. I’ve completely changed my query (this time getting NO feedback on it and ending up w/ a partial request.). I’ve kept querying. I’ve made plans to enter it in another contest. In fact, that one does not give feedback to every entry, but it takes the full manuscript.
In two months time I’ll know one way or another, because both contests have said that they’ll notify finalists by September.
I’ve got nothing to lose by entering. If I’m not a finalist nothing is lost. If I am, a ton is gained.
Once I have them sent off, though…I have the same issue I do with all of this querying.
Putting it from my mind.
I’m SO bad at that.
by Sarah | Jun 10, 2010 | Books, Reviews
This post is a repost of a review I did two years ago. Since my old blog was lost in the shuffle I wanted to repost the review of this worthy (pun intended) book for my new readers, and because the author deserves it. I encourage you to pick up a copy today! I may even try to convince Ms. Worth to come by for an interview someday.
Elizabeth of York was the only woman to be a daughter, niece, sister, wife, and mother to English kings. Her wide connection to royalty did not prove to grant her a charmed life, quite the opposite.
Her life began as a charmed one, the daughter of Edward IV, she was loved by her father and lived a brief life of joy and contentment as the apple of his eye. When war struck their country again at the tender age of five, she and her family were forced into sanctuary, and thus the first hints of tragedy started to enter her life.
Her father survived the battle and lived until she was seventeen, but with his death came the beginning of a series of events that led this hopeful princess into a life filled with death and sorrow. Losing her father, her brothers, her nephew, her queen and friend, and then her beloved uncle (the man she also loved), she never lost her faith. When given an opportunity to run, she stayed behind, determined to let a royal marriage to a man who claimed the crown end years and years of battle.
From the moment you open this book, drawn into a game of revelry, to the end you are hooked into Elizabeth’s life as she tells it. Sandra skillfully relays a heartwrenching tale that pulls you into the heart of a queen. You find yourself enjoying each brief moment of happiness, and sharing each lonely moment of pain and fear.
“Elizabeth, the Good! Elizabeth, the Beloved! Elizabeth, the King’s Daughter!” You will want to know her. You will want to see her find peace. She will be made a part of you.
Thoroughly researched, you can see that Sandra loves her subjects in all of her novels. You are given a touching tale that will leave you with real tears…and you will learn of a period of history through a historical figure often forgotten – but certainly no less important.
*I received a copy of this book for free from Penguin two years ago. I’m reposting this review because I genuinely like the book and the author.
by Sarah | Jun 10, 2010 | All About Me, Crap
It’s that time of year. Pollen counts are high, people are sniffling and moaning about hayfever and “allergies”. Today everyone has allergies (it seems like). Benadryl is over the counter, and there are more allergy meds than you can shake a stick at.
Some days I just look at everyone and laugh. I think, “If you only knew.”
From birth until the age of three I was, by all accounts, a holy terror. I never stopped screaming (although this is disputed by slides of me actually smiling – so it did happen). Nothing made me happy.
When I was three years old somehow my mother found what could label the cause of my problem.
I had allergies.
Oh, but this is more than the common problem of today. I was allergic to some very basic foods that are in EVERYTHING you eat (practically).
1. The protein in dairy. This meant no milk, no ice cream, no cheese, no butter. Nothing related to dairy products at all.
2. Corn. Yup, that yummy delicious food was among the list of my enemies. No corn on the cob, no corn on Thanksgiving. Imagine the cereals I was restricted from? Oh, and on that note:
3. Wheat. I barely remember this one so I’m pretty sure it’s the first I outgrew. (I only list it because my mom mentioned it in our last discussion of my little hell)
4. Cats, cat dander, don’t come near me if you have a cat. I sort of outgrew this in highschool, but it came back w/ a vengeance right around the time I got engaged to my husband.
5. On that note, any long haired animal was evil. I still remember in first grade we had a long haired guinea pig that I wasn’t allowed near. I always had to switch chore days w/ my BFF at the time (Hi Wendy!) when I got assigned the guinea pig.
6. Typical hayfever – pollen, dust (this one still majorly is true), mold…you know, the generics.
7. Soap. Bar soap (very much), bubble bath, shaving cream (oy, very much), body wash, deodorant (ugh. Yes, I use it). This one is still (mostly) true. I have to be selective of my liquid soaps and I still cant use shaving cream.
Weekly I went for shots (yes, shots. Most try to treat with oral meds these days) to “Dr. Bob”. My pediatrician and allergist extraordinaire. I couldn’t eat anything hardly, but meat and veggies. It was a good thing I was a freak of nature that loved my vegetables, because I HATED meat. All I could drink was orange juice or Kool-aid, the only cereal I could have was rice crispies or oatmeal.
My cousin (hey cuz!) to this day reminds me of the days I used to eat orange juice on my oatmeal or rice crispies. I think of those days and shudder.
I am addicted to pop nowadays because I still cannot bring myself to enjoy juice of any kind thanks to those influences. Kool-Aid is like a four letter word to me, but I’ll occasionally enjoy a Capri Sun or some pink lemonade – that’s my limit.
I eventually started to outgrow some of the allergies. Corn, thankfully, is something I enjoy frequently these days. Corn on the cob is still a favorite treat. Wheat, I don’t know how long that lasted, but I remember enjoying sandwiches in kindergarten so it can’t have been that long.
Dairy was tricky. I mostly outgrew it, and was drinking milk like a normal person by high school. When I got pregnant with my son, it came roaring back. And can I tell you something? Don’t EVER tell the hospital you have a dairy allergy. Otherwise your menu is seriously compromised. Anyway, with each pregnancy this sucker came roaring back w/ a vengeance and I was limited to no more than one serving of dairy a day (which I often opted for in ice cream). Now between my allergy and my lack of a gall bladder – dairy has once again become a four-letter word to me.
Cats. Oh, how I love cats. I love their purr, how they curl up with you, their grace…hell, I love the musical. Love, love, love cats. I got a cat in high school, Cali. I was not as affected by her dander as most other cats. Then we adopted Jazzy from my brother, and learned that I still had issues, but it was tolerable. We moved and eventually switched cats, and once again proved that I tolerate some cats better than others. Then I went to visit my cuz in NY. She had a huge ball of fur…Seriously, the cat was super-fluffy long hair. By the time I left her house 2 days later I could barely breath (after hogging her inhaler the whole time I was there)…got home and ended up in the hospital. Now, no cat is tolerable once again.
The worst these days is the soap/deodorant issue. Yes, I do use these things, I’m not a horrible pig. But I have to be VERY picky. I cannot use bar soap, of any kind. I don’t know what it is about forming the bar that does it, but I react every time. I have to use certain liquid soaps or shower gels. I CAN’T use shaving cream. I’ve ‘dry shaved’ since I was 11. It sucks. Then there’s deodorant. I have to switch about every six months to a year. I develop an allergy the longer I use a brand. I think I’ve been through almost every brand on the market and it’s time to switch again. Looks like I’m moving to the men’s aisle.
Needless to say, I don’t know how my mom did it. She should have put me in a bubble and fed me a liquid diet and be done with me. I was blessed to not have any kids w/ allergies beyond hayfever. For the almost two years we dealt w/ just a dairy allergy in Riley (who, thankfully has no issues now), I was at my wits end trying to find foods she could eat.
I admire my mom for the struggle she had
by Sarah | Jun 3, 2010 | Changing Tracks, writing tips
I once received the suggestion that I should print out my manuscript and hand edit it. I don’t remember who said it, or why I rebuffed it – other than the obvious truth that my printer would likely scoff in my face.
Yesterday I did just that.
My printer did snort and protest. It ran out of black ink and 45 pages are printed in blue. One page had the top chewed up. It took an hour (slow printer).
But now my manuscript sits in front of me. Mocking me.
Last night I had to pick my mom up from the airport and while I waited in the cell lot for her to tell me she was ready, I read. I made it twenty pages in and found quite a few items to mark and change (including a blatant typo that spell-check missed!).
I knew the ‘theory’ that reading it on paper was different then reading it on the screen you wrote it on. I didn’t believe it.
But there’s something to be said for it. I hope to continue through the whole manuscript now this way. I’m going to be submitting my novel in two contests by the end of the month (hopefully, I need to come up with the entry fees first), and I want this to shine. I hope between my beta and my own edits that will happen.
So I vote for putting your printer through its paces. It really does read different on paper.
by Sarah | Jun 1, 2010 | All About Kennedy, Cystic Fibrosis
Three years ago we got the diagnosis, Cystic Fibrosis. The pulmonologist assured us that over the course of the next few years we were likely to have more difficulty from Angel’s “other issues” than we were from the CF.
She was right.
For three years we’ve avoided any serious medical ailments from her CF. One bout of croup is the worst we have suffered.
For three years it’s been a diagnosis. Nothing more.
Now it’s a reality.
On my last day in Buffalo the real world invaded. The pulmonologist called my cell phone. We had been in the week before for Angel’s yearly testing. Blood work was drawn, lung functions done, and a sputum culture.
The results of the sputum culture had come back. For the first time ever, Angel tested positive for Pseudomonas. We were already on Cipro (her lung functions have been on a steady decline & she’s been having some labored breathing)…we had TOBI added on (a $3000 drug, pre-insurance! *faints*), which is an actual inhaled antibiotic.
My baby is sick.
She runs and plays. She laughs and sings. But her body is slowing her down.
At night she rasps and wheezes. She’s now chained to her machines for an hour each morning and evening. Trying to fight this off so that she can run and play without getting so worn down so fast.
We let her run.
We let her play.
She needs it. WE need it.
Our baby is sick.
It’s no longer something that’s in the background. It’s staring us in the face and gnashing it’s teeth.
I’d come out fighting, but I’m worn down too. So instead I fight quietly. I pray to find my strength again so that I can be strong for her, for my family. Life has tossed me about lately, the phone call from the pulm was the last in a string of crapstorms swirling about me.
But then I see her face. Those huge brown eyes that have melted my heart from day 1.
That smile that manipulates my anger into a grin, even when I don’t want it to. The goofy playfulness that can turn the grumpiest grump into a grinning fool.
I know that she’s too little to know what her tiny body is trying to fight off. I know that she’d rather run and play then sit hooked up to machines and fed medicines. I know that it all makes her sad.
And that’s when I know. I’d give anything to keep that smile. That goofy grin. The annoying repeating chatter that fills my days (and sometimes my nights). The songs she makes up. The piercing shriek of a scream she emits that makes my ears bleed, but show that her fire is not gone out.
I will find my strength to fight this thing. The Mama Bear will emerge, and we will fight the now present danger of CF.
Diagnosis has become reality.
Now we brace ourselves for the fight. We will fight for every tomorrow we can get. Angel may be tiny – but she’s got a strength and joy inside unlike anything you’ve seen.
I believe that if anyone can win the battle against this disease it’s her.
And if my littlest, my tiny Angel-girl is strong enough – I sure as hell can be too.
Last week I had another first.
