Yet again, another old blog post resurfacing on my new blog. Apparently I thought I’d be able to stick to a blogging schedule, but maybe that’s a 2016 thing.
Category: Text Post
Review: After Sunrise by Amanda Olivier
At the start of this year, I vowed to read more historical romance. It was the one sub-genre of romance that I sort of avoided like the plague, and in 2015, I was determined to change that. So I read. I downloaded a lot of free historical romance, snagging what I thought seemed really interesting based on the descriptions, covers, and reviews. And you know what? The majority of the time I was disappointed. For the most part, I tended to dislike the heroes—a bit sexist, rude, and cruel. Then the heroines were basically all carbon copies of each other: either very, very innocent and virginal, or so ill-mannered that there is no way they would have maintained their rank/position/whatever without scandal ruining them.
So, after a number of meh books, historical romance and I went our separate ways. That is, until After Sunrise by Amanda Olivier popped up in the It Begins Here anthology.
Review: After He Left by Marissa Fuller
After He Left by Marissa Fuller is story #2 in the It Begins Here anthology. Like Carlson’s Beauty’s Bargain, this is the first time I’ve read the piece, and I’m pleased to say it left me knowing I’ve found another favourite author to watch out for. Fuller’s piece knows how to bring all the feels, and centers around Alexandria, who just lost her twin brother to cancer. The author’s description of the loss, the separation, and the horror of basically no longer having half of yourself in your life anymore was so real that I was actually tearing up as I read. I can’t imagine how devastating the loss of a twin would be, but Fuller paints an incredibly vivid image that will stick with me for a long time to come.
This ten thousand word piece won’t take long to read–mostly because you won’t want to put it down. And know that I’m not just singing its praises because I was a contributing author to the anthology. I have no issues pointing out flaws in a piece. Here, for example, I wish more time had been spent on Michael and Lex, rather than Michael and Ronnie, but I’m hoping we’ll get to see more of the main young couple, battling love and loss, in the next anthology.
All in all, After He Left is a wonderful piece that knows how to grab you right from the opening line. If you can put it down for long, I applaud you. I know I couldn’t.
Check out Fuller’s piece in our recently released anthology, It Begins Here.
* Because this was a part of an anthology that I contributed to, there is no rating assigned unless the author is selling the short story on its own separately from It Begins Here.
Review: A Beauty’s Bargain by Ashley R. Carlson
A Beauty’s Bargain was a part of the anthology that I participated in that was released this past November. I’ve finally started reading my fellow authors’ work in more detail, and I’m super proud to be sharing some thoughts with you about them.
It Begins Here, our anthology, has been getting lovely reviews from readers, and while I plan to write blurbs about the stories, I won’t rate them unless the authors have published them independently from the anthology (like myself and Ashley did). I have a thing about not giving anything I’ve worked on a star rating, so here we are.
5 STARS
A Beauty’s Bargain is the perfect companion piece to Carlson’s The Charismatics. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it as a standalone, and I personally don’t think it can be read before Charismatics. It really enriches the whole fictitious world, and I think serves as a great tasty treat while readers wait for the release of the second book in the series. I wish it was longer, but given it was written for the anthology I also wrote a 10K piece for, I absolutely understand why it isn’t. That being said, I can’t wait to read more on Merry’s story.
This short piece earned such a high rating from me because it really made me feel. As always, Carlson is a fantastic writer, and I feel this was one of her strongest pieces of written works to date. However, it was the very squicky (SPOILER) rape scene that sold me. It was just so awful and brutal, even though it was a fade to black, that I actually had a physical discomfort while reading it–and that to me is the mark of a talented writer. They make you feel things, good or bad. So I applaud Carlson once again for making me feel with her work, and I can’t wait to read more from her!
Check out the short story on Goodreads for more reviews and purchase links!
Time for a Change
For those of you who have followed me on twitter, you know I mention my Man a lot. We’ve been together for almost six years. He’s my best friend in the whole wide world. Love the guy. Yeay Man.
Now, like many out there, we like to watch zombie movies. It started off as being his thing, and then slowly I became the one demanding we watch a terrible zombie flick on a Saturday night with ice cream in our sweats.
I’m not sure what my fascination is with them. Unlike vampires, I don’t find the prospect of being near a zombie in any way alluring or sexual (and please note I only consider “vampires” like that because of all the smutty smut I’ve read—and written—about them over the years). Personally, I’ve had many, many nightmares of being hounded by zombie hordes, unable to escape, stress off the charts.
And yet I still love watching them. Fear the Walking Dead? Yes please. Shaun of the Dead? Always. 28 Weeks Later? Only if I’m not watching it alone. Fast zombies. Slow zombies. Alllll kinds of zombies. They work for me.
Romance zombies? Ehhhh. I guess those are the one kind that I’m meh about.
But anyway. My Man and I like to make zombie apocalypse plans. We know the route we’d take from our apartment building out of the city. We know what we’d pack. We constantly debate what we’d do with our animals—he always pragmatically suggests we eat our rabbits, which usually earns him a smack. One night, our conversation went a little something like this:
“So if we were running from the horde and I fell behind,” I started, “would you leave me behind?”
He was quiet for a few seconds, then laughed and said, “Well, yeah.”
Cue shocked gasp. Cue dramatic jaw dropping and eyes bulging. Yup, he said he’d leave me behind to be eaten by zombies.
“I mean, do we both have to die?” was his reasoning as he tried to calm me.
You know what? I get it. Although I gave him a lot of flak for the answer, I could see where he was coming from. Allow me to paint a picture. Years ago, my Man used to jog. Meanwhile, I’m mostly like:
And:
He goes to the gym three days a week, can bench press a lot, and usually gets asked to watch people squat so he can tell them what they’re doing wrong.
Enter me. I sit most of the day. I eat whole bags of family-sized bags of chips, Salt and Vinegar preferably, and get winded walking up the hill at the mall beside our apartment. I’m not overweight, but I realized the other day I’ve adding a whopping twenty pounds to my body since my surgery last year, and the majority of my clothes don’t fit right anymore.
To be fair, I spent four months of this year on the couch with a fucked up knee, only able to get around if I was on crutches. Add that to my month or two of recovery from surgery at the start of the year and my fitness levels aren’t looking great.
So, in a way, I get it. I’d probably leave me behind too. Sure, adrenaline can get me places. If I was running for my life, I’d be trying my hardest to keep up with the group. But it isn’t just my cardio that’s meh. My body is stiff and awkward after months of sitting and recovery. I noticed it at my new Day Job, where I ref for archery tag games. I’m not limber and flexible. I’m klutzy and bulky, not entirely used to this new body—a body that has never been this big or heavy in my life.
Last month, I decided it was time to make a change. As I’ve mentioned a few times already on social media, my Man is headed home for about a month and a half today. I’m sad to be spending the Christmas holidays alone, but I realized last month that all the alone time is a golden opportunity to start improving on my fitness.
Fun fact: I used to be a huge restrictive eater. It was a whole big thing, went to therapy for it, wrestled with self-esteem, blah, blah, blah. So fun. And super fun for my Man who supported me through it. Once he pointed out a stretch mark on my leg and I cried for a good hour after. Those days are gone, though I certainly have my moments, but body issues have always been a thing for me.
Weight stuff makes me really uncomfortable. Being in a gym setting, especially a busy one, gives me huge anxiety. Hell, doing crunches and squats in front of my Man, who I love unconditionally, kicks off the nervous sweats. It’s a giant mental block that I know I need to work on, but I’m hoping to fight it this month by getting my -100 fitness level to a point where I feel more confident doing physical activity just in general.
And so, the Zombie Apocalypse Preparedness Regime was born!
I’m still working on the fine print of everything, but I know the first issue I need to tackle is:
I’m introducing squats, crunches, push-ups, and lunges as a part of my daily routine. Starting small with 3 reps of 3, then steadily increasing the number each day to something that might actually impress people. In two weeks or so, I want to do arm exercises with some of the 10 and 15 lb weights we have lying around.
I’m fortunate enough to have a free gym in my building, so the bike and the treadmill are going to be my new friends. The bike was aces for my knee physio, so I’m just going to crank the intensity up a notch. Now, the treadmill stuff is throwing me. I want to try the walking-running workout where you walk for a certain amount of time, then run, then walk, then run, but really I can barely jog a full minute yet. For now, I’m starting with high intensity walking, and will hopefully integrate some running later on this month.
Now, I’ve learned over my failed attempts at working out before that exercise is only a part of physical fitness and health. Diet is a huuuuge part of getting in shape, and I’m making a vow—on the internet—to improve my eating habits. Less noodles. More quinoa. Less chips. More fish. Less chocolate. More fruit. I have no interest in following fad diets or crash diets (that basically resemble restrictive eating anyway) or detoxes. My overall goal is just to eat healthier and pay more attention to what I’m shoveling into my mouth as I watch reality TV on the couch with my meals.
I’ve tried calorie counting apps before and all they managed to do was make me feel sad when I saw how many calories I’d eaten in a day. Honestly, and I hate this phrase, I don’t need something so triggering in my life. No thanks.
I’m really excited. And nervous. Worried that I’ll fail, of course. I’ve had grand hopes for workout routines in the past that have crashed and burned a week in, so I’m hoping for the best. Although it’s not strictly writing related, I’ll probably post my progress on my blog. In a way, it’s almost like having a sense of accountability for my actions going forward.
Plus I’ll have a chance to see how far I’ve come.
As of right now, my stats:
Weight: 172 lbs
Height: 5’5”
BMI: Fuck you, BMI. You’re an inaccurate measurement of my health and basically list me as morbidly obese for my height. Please don’t rely on a BMI.
BMR: 1500 calories a day is what my body burns just being a body
Activity level: Mostly sedentary
Food intake: A lot of crap
Sleeping habits: Most nights I get 7-8 hours, but I generally wake up a lot
Heartburn: Frequent
I’ll report back on those stats at the end of December, then midway through January when my Man comes home. I’m doing this for me, of course, but I’m excited to show him I’m capable of doing something fitness related and sticking to it.
So cross your fingers and toes, folks. I’m going in.
Share your fitness journeys in the comments section! I’d love to know I’m not alone.
A Hot Mess (aka the first book I ever submitted)
Enjoy a throwback post that I wrote in 2014, because apparently I’m failing at my blogging schedule already. Yeaaay.
The first book I ever sent to a publisher was a hot mess.
I spent years and years writing fanfiction, and I loved doing it. At the back of my mind, I had always wanted to be a writer, and I had a few original ideas penned, a book written—but no drive to do anything with it. So, as my university undergraduate career slowly came to an end, I decided to get my act together and look into publishing ventures. There was so much to learn, and I still feel like I’m drowning in information about an industry that outsiders think is easy-breezy.
One day, I stumbled upon an e-book provider who accepted unsolicited manuscripts from writers without agents. I thought I had hit the jackpot. At the time, I didn’t have anything that fit with what they usually published, but then I found their prompts page. It was basically a page that dictated what their editors would like to see for the upcoming year. There were deadlines to meet and a bunch of different lines for me to write to—I was thrilled.
I eventually settled on one that I figured I could make work: historical romance. I chose the Victorian Era, and went with their prompt to write about the life of a governess. Easy. I decided to add vampires to it, because everyone likes vampires, right?
I finished the manuscript about a week before the deadline. I then scrambled to edit this massive document myself. I think I read it twice over, correcting things as I went along, and that was it.
That was it. No beta readers, no editors, no proofreaders. Hot off the presses, I submitted with a rushed query and a synopsis that was too long for anyone to care about. I, however, thought I had just handed gold over to the editors at this publishing house. Hell, I even mentioned my fanfiction in my query and just how many amazing readers I had.
So, I waited. I even told a writing professor of mine—a published author—what I had done, and he looked at me over the top of his glasses a la Albus Dumbledore.
“So, you just sent it in?” he asked.
“Yup! They said it was fine that I didn’t have an agent.”
“Oh.” A long pause. “Well, best of luck. Let me know if it gets published.”
I waited the twelve weeks it usually took for a response, and was devastated when I received my first-ever rejection. I was stunned. My work was brilliant. I had great characters, an interesting plot, and vague historical accuracy that would probably fly with an uneducated reader.
Like I said, it was a hot mess. Looking back, I realized I started my novel off with the main character in a stage-coach, where she mulled over her life up until that point. It was dreary outside. Six pages of introspection and exposition.
Cringe worthy. Never mind that I hadn’t ever read a Victorian romance before, but I thought I could get away with sending in a manuscript that no other person has ever seen except myself. Rookie mistakes across the board, and I thought I had learned my lesson.
I submitted something else to the same publishing house for a different prompt a few months later. I had a professional editor look it over, and she seemed to like it.
I waited again. I didn’t talk to anyone about it, worried that I’d get my hopes up again by sharing the news.
And… rejection. This time I was genuinely hurt; I worked really hard on the next manuscript, and I thought it was leaps and bounds ahead of the first manuscript I sent in.
But no one gives you a publishing contract for “Most Improved Manuscript”. No one cares. Once again, I hadn’t let any beta readers go through anything, and I assumed my writing experiences with fanfiction would carry me somewhere special.
It didn’t. Not even a little.
These days, I have a wonderful team of beta readers to kick my ass a little. I have people to tell me what they like, what they dislike, and what needs to be scrapped. Writers need to learn that this isn’t a solitary art. It isn’t something you should want to do on your own, even if you spend the majority of your time alone—just you and the computer/pen and notepad. You need feedback. You need your ego checked. You need help. Take it when it’s offered, you literate idiot.
Liz Meldon - Romance Author 