Wherein I Write Too Much Text

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This is what happens when I don’t blog for a few days. Words build in my brain like a geyser.

New information on natural gas that might just help to solve the world’s energy crisis (how NIFTY). Also, here is a fantastic post from agent Kate Testerman on the process of writing -> editing -> querying, etc. She thoughtfully includes things that many *ahemahemMEahem* tend not to realize the first time they’re querying – such as (1) researching agents thoroughly beforehand and (2) being willing to put the book down, do something else, and then revise-revise-revise-revise-revise-revise-revise.  Then revise some more.

Kind of a wonky article here, claiming that modern Sci-Fi has turned against heterosexual males. I’m guessing the author failed to consider that until sci-fi is comfortable with women who are NOT sex symbols, then it really hasn’t turned “feminist. ”  Speaking of femininity and manliness, here’s a news item about a rogue insect that took down missile truck. (Snicker. Which I can do, since no one got hurt.)

Ooh, an interview with P. N. Elrod! I LOVE this woman! She’s written one of the more interesting vampire series out there. She brings this article to mind: how to be a perfect author for your editor. This article is particularly helpful because it’s a preview of what to expect even after getting an agent and a publishing contract.

On to more personal things, my darling husband is still looking for a new job, and we are hoping for one that does NOT involve moving. We really like living in New Hampshire, and really, who wouldn’t?

Home, Sweet Home
Home, Sweet Home
Home, Sweet Home

(Don’t you love the cooler we forgot on the porch? Adds to that HOMEY feeling. ) We really, really want to stay. Iowa’s nice, but NH is home.

In conclusion, with no segue, have a short snippet!

The day Alex turned thirteen, he spent it alone on a street corner, looking for thieves.

The guilty three were no more human than the orange-sodium light above his head, but nobody in Aberdeen could see it. Magic hid their long, thin ears, and their leather coats and steel-toed boots didn’t make them look any older. Apple-cheeked children with attitudes, that’s what they appeared to be.

They weren’t. They were five hundred years old at the youngest, and very capable thieves.

Alex stood in a circle of salt, which had been spread in a wide circumference to ensure he didn’t accidentally cancel out its spell. Humans saw only a lamppost, dull and yellow in its light, but inside that circle of hiding, he could see everything. Every spell, every secret item, every person and thing magic made invisible.

He grinned. This was the fun part.


A three-times bestselling author, Ruthanne Reid has led a convention panel on world-building, taught courses on plot and character development, and been the keynote speaker for the Write Practice Retreat. Author of two series with five books and fifty-plus short stories, Ruthanne has lived in her head since childhood, when she wrote her first story about a pony princess and a genocidal snake-kingdom and used up her mom’s red typewriter ribbon in the process. When she isn’t reading, writing, or reading about writing, Ruthanne enjoys old cartoons with her husband and two cats, and dreams of living on an island beach far, far away. P.S. Red is still her favorite color.