I'm so excited! I have a new website and, of course, it came complete with blogging capabilities. Which means I'll be closing this blog within the next few weeks.
I have moved all the links I had here over to the new site. Please stop by and take a look. I admit, it's a little sparse right now, but I love it. It's just so different from anything else I've seen, and so very ME (which is what comes of having a critique partner who knows you so well she can almost read your mind!)
My CP and I spent most of yesterday putting it together so, while there's been little time to accumulate content, I'm sure that won't be a problem for long.
I hope you'll stop by, take a look, and leave a comment at www.gwynlynmackenzie.com (I tried to put in a link, but for some reason, Blogger ignores my attempts although they show in the draft.)
To make copy and paste easier, here it is with the http:
http://www.gwynlynmackenzie.com
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
I hate being caught between choices. Sometimes you're going to stumble no matter which direction you choose.
Nasty truth, but true nonetheless.
I long to attend RWA's National Conference. I've attended before, and there is nothing quite like the energy one absorbs when surrounded by like-minded individuals. Also, GH finalists are often sought out by editors and agents. A nice change of affairs, I assure you.
Circumstances, however, may preclude making use of that pastel pink finalist's ribbon.
(Which leads me to ask, don't you think a finalist's ribbon should be a less insipid color? I mean, really. Baby-girl pink? We aren't writing nursery rhymes. Wouldn't a vivid, vibrant color that speaks of dashing heroes and intrepid heroines, shouts the joy of accomplishment be more appropriate?
Random survey concluded. Back to the blog.)
Those circumstances include the anticipated birth of our first grandson less than a week before conference. If our daughter didn't live 1200 miles away, that would be a no-brainer. But she does.
I could fly down, but I would go alone. My beloved would never weather the trip. Twenty minutes in the car has him huffing "cleansing breaths" to control the pain. Two or more hours stuffed into an airplane seat would be tanamount to torture.
Even so, he'd suffer through it (with the help of pain meds)for her, but our dear daughter has made it clear she would prefer to bring the child to us; she confessed she'd rather we didn't see the home they're currently renting. (If that's not enough to set a mother's inner alarms buzzing, I don't know what is!) Of course, that homecoming could happen anywhere between six weeks and six months after the birth--if we're lucky.
She is so adamant, however, she encouraged me to go to conference. Now, that might not seem like much to you, but this is the child who has resented my writing and the time it commands from the moment I decided, once she,the youngest, entered Middle School, the children were sufficiently independent to permit pursuing my own deferred goals.
The 180 only makes the Mom reflex jerk harder.
Then there is the cost. NYC is extremely expensive. The good news is I needn't fly to get there. The bad news is, well, NYC is extremely expensive. I know I'm not alone debating the wisdom of incurring additional debt in this economic climate with the future uncertain and no guarantee of professional advancement.
The choice seems clear enough, doesn't it?
It is---until you consider the networking, the contacts, the personal recommendations and face-to-face interactions that could be the catalyst that sells the books languishing on your hard-drive and improve your financial outlook.
So here I am, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, a brick wall and a hard place, the irresistible force and the immoveable object. (Did I miss any?)
I've been a finalist twice before and didn't capitalize on the distinction because of my sweetheart's health problems. After five years, I've been forced to accept their impact on our lives. What I will never accept, however, is giving up on the future.
That insipid ribbon could make a world of difference to that future. Then, again, it could just be another accolade hung on the wall.
Either choice, whether professional or financial, is a risk.
Thank heaven I can pray---and swim.
Nasty truth, but true nonetheless.
I long to attend RWA's National Conference. I've attended before, and there is nothing quite like the energy one absorbs when surrounded by like-minded individuals. Also, GH finalists are often sought out by editors and agents. A nice change of affairs, I assure you.
Circumstances, however, may preclude making use of that pastel pink finalist's ribbon.
(Which leads me to ask, don't you think a finalist's ribbon should be a less insipid color? I mean, really. Baby-girl pink? We aren't writing nursery rhymes. Wouldn't a vivid, vibrant color that speaks of dashing heroes and intrepid heroines, shouts the joy of accomplishment be more appropriate?
Random survey concluded. Back to the blog.)
Those circumstances include the anticipated birth of our first grandson less than a week before conference. If our daughter didn't live 1200 miles away, that would be a no-brainer. But she does.
I could fly down, but I would go alone. My beloved would never weather the trip. Twenty minutes in the car has him huffing "cleansing breaths" to control the pain. Two or more hours stuffed into an airplane seat would be tanamount to torture.
Even so, he'd suffer through it (with the help of pain meds)for her, but our dear daughter has made it clear she would prefer to bring the child to us; she confessed she'd rather we didn't see the home they're currently renting. (If that's not enough to set a mother's inner alarms buzzing, I don't know what is!) Of course, that homecoming could happen anywhere between six weeks and six months after the birth--if we're lucky.
She is so adamant, however, she encouraged me to go to conference. Now, that might not seem like much to you, but this is the child who has resented my writing and the time it commands from the moment I decided, once she,the youngest, entered Middle School, the children were sufficiently independent to permit pursuing my own deferred goals.
The 180 only makes the Mom reflex jerk harder.
Then there is the cost. NYC is extremely expensive. The good news is I needn't fly to get there. The bad news is, well, NYC is extremely expensive. I know I'm not alone debating the wisdom of incurring additional debt in this economic climate with the future uncertain and no guarantee of professional advancement.
The choice seems clear enough, doesn't it?
It is---until you consider the networking, the contacts, the personal recommendations and face-to-face interactions that could be the catalyst that sells the books languishing on your hard-drive and improve your financial outlook.
So here I am, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, a brick wall and a hard place, the irresistible force and the immoveable object. (Did I miss any?)
I've been a finalist twice before and didn't capitalize on the distinction because of my sweetheart's health problems. After five years, I've been forced to accept their impact on our lives. What I will never accept, however, is giving up on the future.
That insipid ribbon could make a world of difference to that future. Then, again, it could just be another accolade hung on the wall.
Either choice, whether professional or financial, is a risk.
Thank heaven I can pray---and swim.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Taken at a Glance
It's amazing how deep, and often erroneous, an impression is made by a swift glance, and we all know first impressions are lasting impressions. This holds true whether you're meeting people or ideas.
Ideas?
Yes.
Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, Madame Currie, Albert Einstein all had what were considered outlandish ideas in their day, ideas that garnered ridicule and mockery from those who didn't, or couldn't, grasp the new-fangled concepts or see past their own limitations. Yet history applauds these visionaries, and their contributions effect us even today.
These people didn't allow the opinions of others to derail them despite repeated failures. They had a goal, a vision, and they did whatever it took to see that goal or vision reach fruition.
Lately, I have seen much discussion on indie publishing. I'm not talking vanity press, I'm talking publishing via ebooks or print-on-demand without benefit of a publishing house of any kind.
I'm an old-fashioned girl, and at first glance, I thought the idea outlandish, just like those folks who though Bell, Edison, Currie, and Einstein mad. But numbers don't lie.
Yes, there are people publishing Musings on My Left Big Toe; those people have always been with us and have always found a way to get their foot fetish into print somewhere. I have also, however, read some excellent books that would have found a home in the major publishing houses in the time before bean-counters ran the show.
The sad truth is there are a lot of good books being dismissed in deference to a hill of beans.
I understand the need to make a profit. I understand marketing's need for neat little niches to make selling easier in a fluctuating marketplace. It makes me sad, however, to see excellent books given the go-by because they don't slide neatly into a nice round hole. So, indie publishing it is for many books with unique and unusual concepts.
Personally, being an old-fashioned girl, I hope the day never comes when publishing as we know it ceases to exist. That would be tragic. Yet I fear the day may, indeed, come because the old-fashioned way of doing things is losing ground to advancing technology.
While I can hope eyes will be opened and changes made before it's too late, it might just be time consider an altered perception and take a second glance.
Ideas?
Yes.
Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, Madame Currie, Albert Einstein all had what were considered outlandish ideas in their day, ideas that garnered ridicule and mockery from those who didn't, or couldn't, grasp the new-fangled concepts or see past their own limitations. Yet history applauds these visionaries, and their contributions effect us even today.
These people didn't allow the opinions of others to derail them despite repeated failures. They had a goal, a vision, and they did whatever it took to see that goal or vision reach fruition.
Lately, I have seen much discussion on indie publishing. I'm not talking vanity press, I'm talking publishing via ebooks or print-on-demand without benefit of a publishing house of any kind.
I'm an old-fashioned girl, and at first glance, I thought the idea outlandish, just like those folks who though Bell, Edison, Currie, and Einstein mad. But numbers don't lie.
Yes, there are people publishing Musings on My Left Big Toe; those people have always been with us and have always found a way to get their foot fetish into print somewhere. I have also, however, read some excellent books that would have found a home in the major publishing houses in the time before bean-counters ran the show.
The sad truth is there are a lot of good books being dismissed in deference to a hill of beans.
I understand the need to make a profit. I understand marketing's need for neat little niches to make selling easier in a fluctuating marketplace. It makes me sad, however, to see excellent books given the go-by because they don't slide neatly into a nice round hole. So, indie publishing it is for many books with unique and unusual concepts.
Personally, being an old-fashioned girl, I hope the day never comes when publishing as we know it ceases to exist. That would be tragic. Yet I fear the day may, indeed, come because the old-fashioned way of doing things is losing ground to advancing technology.
While I can hope eyes will be opened and changes made before it's too late, it might just be time consider an altered perception and take a second glance.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Yes, I Did It Again.
Well, I'm back. I've been busily writing the prequel to my previous GH finalist, and am quite happy with the result. So, apparently, are others since my prequel is a Golden Heart® finalist this year!
Please God, let three be a charm!
Please God, let three be a charm!
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