Tag Archives: writing

The Post-Publication Blues

While I was writing Enemies of Doves, I had several authors warn me about the sadness that comes once the book is finished. After all, we’ve spent so long with our characters, it’s hard to say goodbye. While I did feel this to some extent, I was able to offset it with my quest toContinue reading “The Post-Publication Blues”

No Author is an Island

Writing is a solitary job. Eventually, you work with agents and editors to polish your book up, but the bulk of writing is done alone. As it is with most professions, the average person has no idea what goes into creating a book, or why it takes so long to do it. I recently hadContinue reading “No Author is an Island”

Making the Cover

Today I wanted to write about how the cover of Enemies of Doves came to be. A really cool benefit of working with a smaller publisher is that you get a lot of input on your cover art. I have a friend who is published with one of the big five publishers and he got his coverContinue reading “Making the Cover”

A Book With No Home?

As I’ve been working to market Enemies of Doves, I’ve been thinking a lot about genre. Genre is the style or category of any given book. It’s how bookstores and libraries know where to place the book, and where readers look to find their next great read. I think most readers stick to a favoriteContinue reading “A Book With No Home?”

Civil War Regiments, Talking Crows, and Prison Uniform Color

Today I wanted to blog about research. Even fictional novels often require a drastic amount of research. Wait, isn’t fiction just making stuff up? Yes and no.  When I was in 8th grade, I started my first novel, Years of April, about three brothers fighting in the Civil War. I wanted to be accurate soContinue reading “Civil War Regiments, Talking Crows, and Prison Uniform Color”

Time, Place, and Memory

When I started to write Enemies of Doves, there was never any question where I wanted it set—East Texas, specifically a tiny town named Carthage and its neighbor, Longview.  When I was young, my grandpa’s job transferred him to Carthage. Just a day’s drive away, but to a broken-hearted five year old, 550 miles away mightContinue reading “Time, Place, and Memory”