(The graphic will make sense at the end.)

A writing duo I greatly respect has tweeted off and on about the individuals who rail at them about taking their writing to the next “level,” and improving their visibility with traditional print, and more. I’m slightly grateful I have no idea how much more they’ve seen, though I have the impression I’m about to get a dose of my own version. Ah, the haters.

Why is it that any time you start a new venture, there are people there to tell you how difficult it will be, or how impossible the odds are of you making a go of it, or even what a ridiculous time is is to try to establish yourself in the arts? The nay sayers are prevalent and, heaven help me, loud. They have no scruples when it comes to delving into your personal business without invitation and pretending to know ever nuance, every in and out and nook and cranny, of the business of writing. They’re there with their sleeves rolled up, ready to pour over your financials and sales rankings and P & L statements to make sure you’re making the most of your…wait.

“You write for the digital market?” they ask, incredulous.

“Yep,” I reply.

You cannot imagine the heart palpitations and hands waving in front of their faces. “If only you wrote for traditional print…” they say, with the most downtrodden of looks.

The fact is, I’m happy to write for the digital market, and very few people take into consideration what makes the author happy. They look at success as defined by purely traditional models, and those–not surprisingly–include traditional print. But models change. Doubt me? Watch the historic models for print itself. And now there is a new model, the digital book, where authors are making huge waves in every genre under the sun.

And these authors, many of them, are making their livings with the royalty checks they receive from these digital publishers once, and often still, considered second-class publishing citizens. I beg to damn differ about the “class” and quality and digital books. Have you read “No Apologies” by Tibby Armstrong? Or “Hunting Human” by Amanda Alvarez? Have you read “Cipher” by Moira Rogers or “The Zero Dog War” by Keith Melton? No? Then you’re missing out. Big time. These books, the last two of which are from my own publisher (Samhain Publishing), are all excellent representations of the quality of media produced by some digital-first publishers.

Wait. Did I just say “digital-first“? Why, yes. Yes, I did. Samhain will see me put into mainstream distribution and I’ll have the same opportunity to get into bookstores as the other traditionally printed titles. And you know what? I just might make it onto the New York Times bestsellers’ list. Three authors from Samhain have done it.

So before you send your condolences to a digitally published author, you might want to stop and seriously ask yourself what you’re sending that card for. Congratulations are, more than likely, more appropriate. And if you don’t feel like a congratulations card is more appropriate? There’s a sheep herd just waiting to welcome you home.

It. Is. Done.

Raising Cain is officially out the door, winging its way to my agent as I write this. The whole process took eight months, beginning to end. Eight months of writing, deleting, rewriting, cussing, fighting with imaginary people, sorting out the multiple voices in my head and creating a world that, at times, seemed more real to me than the one I actually live in. It’s a freaking Christmas miracle in September.

There is so much that goes into producing a good, quality manuscript. If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a multitude of saints tempered with some slightly nutty phone buddies, to help develop an author.  Thanks to some very special people, I have emerged from this process stronger, both as a writer and a person, having learned where my boundaries with the written word begin and–in some instances–end, what I’m capable of doing and what I need to just leave alone.

Manuscripts are funny that way. You go in with one set of preconceived ideas about how things are and what kind of story you’ll write, and you end up with a totally different story completely. Raising Cain was no exception. I had a defined idea of what it would “look” like when it was done, but it defied me, backed me into a corner and told ME what type of story it would be in the end. There were times that only Diet Dr Pepper and beef jerky kept me alive through late nights and unproductive streaks. I didn’t hit my average daily word goal very often, meaning the rough draft took longer to write, and I had to push myself to break out of my comfort zone and think of the story in terms of not only individual potential but also the concept of Books 2 and 3 in the new series should it sell well.

But all of this resulted in a manuscript I’m wildly happy with. It’s strong, fresh, violent, funny and romantic with characters that have stolen my heart. I can’t quit thinking about them. Even the secondary characters are begging for their own storyline. That’s my kind of book.

So in honor of this momentous occasion, I declare there shall be hula hoops for everyone!*

*Nuns not provided

I am not sure I’ve ever looked at a picture and felt quite so cosmically connected to the active participant. I was browsing through my pictures, trying to get an idea about what to blog about, when I saw this one. I felt instant kinship with the person behind the bale. (Okay, I’ll admit it would also be a great secondary photo if there was a picture with his legs sticking out from under it–as a joke. But that’s just sick. Anyway…)

It struck me as appropriate to blog about how much editing to a deadline is like trying to push a two ton round bale up an incline. (Yep, I used to live on a ranch.) You push and you push but, realistically, there’s only so much progress to be made. And when you’re pushing against that much weight alone, you’ll be lucky to walk away without some type of injury and nothing more than hand prints left in the bale.

So how do you attack such a monumental task? I’m in a prime position to give you some pointers. No, I don’t think I know the answers to everything…hell, to most things…but I do think my ongoing experience in this arena leaves me with at least a modicum of insight.

First, you need a plan. You can run at this thing and bounce your shoulder off it all day long, but if you don’t sit back and try to come up with a viable plan of attack, don’t expect much to happen. The same can be said of your editing project. You plan might include the number of days you have to complete the project, number of pages you need to edit, a time frame for incorporating critique partners’ input, and so on. Map out your days and settle in to work with the knowledge you now have a map.

Second, you might consider breaking your plan down into daily goals. For example, do you want to edit 60 pages raw (by hand) or do you want to (try to) run those same 60 pages through an editing software like AutoCrit . If you’re using AutoCrit, it may take you longer to resolve your editing issues because it’s going to likely find things you missed as well as identify sections of passive voice and repetitive words that will require rewrites. Create your time budget accordingly.

Third, you might consider offering yourself a monumental reward. Okay, it doesn’t have to be monumental, but it should be equivalent to the moving of that two-ton round bale we’ve discussed. I’m rewarding myself with a very private prize. There are also immediate gratification rewards in the way of the submissions the manuscript will go into next week. I’m telling you, that’s a huge reward for me.

What suggestions do you have for coming up with time budgets and tangible rewards? Are there things you do, methods you employ, to help you meet your goals? I’d love to hear about them.