Ch-ch-changing. Titles and names, that is.

First and foremost, I have a new book out. It's The Blood Knife, the vampire novel that had been in a box set for three weeks. That fundraising promo is over and I've put the book up as a standalone. It'll go up in formats other than Kindle this weekend.


Ch-ch-changing.
Title and name changes. You knew I'd have a story about that. When I subbed my first book to Berkley, it went in as Enemy Within. Marketing didn't like that title. So, they asked for a name change. I wasn't thrilled, but I was eager to play nicely with the big kids. So I sent in a list of twenty possible other titles. Many blessings upon my ever-patient critique group(s) who helped brainstorm those, cause I was stuck after about five. Titles are so not my super power. Anyway, I sent the list. Marketing brought their own list. Not a single one of them stuck. After a week of wrangling, marketing went back to the editor and said, "Leave it." You know the rest. The book went out with the original title. I'd have loved to have been a fly on the wall at that marketing meeting. I really would. It would have been fascinating to hear what criteria made a good title versus a bad one. With that information, I might could have given them a better title option, but alas. I was not invited.

The only change that DID happen was in the name of the aliens in the book. The major bad guys are the Chekydran. Well. That's what they *became* because when I first conceived of them, their name had far fewer vowels. My point at the time was that not every species humans and humanoids ever encounter are going to have names that we can say. My agent at the time, who convinced me to buy a few vowels, argued that it didn't matter humans and humanoids were always going to name aliens something they could say, so I might as well throw my poor readers a bone and make the Chekydran readable. I'm glad I did. I can't even remember, now, how I had them spelled originally. So it clearly didn't matter.

Frankly, if I need to change a name, that gets caught in draft when my critique group catches that all of my character names start with the same letter of the alphabet or something. I've been lucky thus far. Editors haven't asked me to change anything I feel really strongly about. I expect that's just a matter of time, though.

You Need More than One Bucket to Fill a Well

'Where I get inspiration', 'filling the well' and all the other euphemisms we use to encompass what really amounts to self-care is a tricky devil. I mean, do you ever have discontent rolling from your gut to heart and back again, but the wine and the bath bombs that did the trick yesterday don't put a dent in it today? Or is it just me pacing my house like a caged lion?

I'm guessing that answer is no. Especially not now. We're all looking for ways to self-soothe. It's a skill we're supposed to pick up in the transition from child to adulthood, but rarely do in healthy ways. This culture isn't big on it. It doesn't help that what makes us feel empty and depleted is often an incredibly fast-moving target.

What to do, then?

Multiple weapons, my friend. Multiple weapons. Some days, all you need to restore your soul is an exquisite piece of chocolate. Or a meal made by someone who cares about you. A piece of poetry or art that steals your breath. A drive (where you don't get out of the car) just to see what's over that hill or around that bend over there. Music. Movement - never underestimate the power of dancing like a goober to music you love when no one else is home. Go for a walk - just wear your mask. Learn something new. It doesn't have to be weighty or even germane. I've watched a dog training show on Youtube, for heaven's sake. I don't have dogs. Can't have dogs, more's the pity, and so the chance that I would EVAR use this is . . . well hell . . . now it's going in a story. Right now, a thunderstorm is doing the job for me. Sitting outside, under good cover, never fear, exposed to negative ions and listening to the rain and not-so-distant rumble.

Also, I think it's important to say that it's okay to be spent. It's okay to be empty. There's power in that, too. It's a rich, fallow space to lie in while you take a breath without rushing to fill back up again. Nature abhors a vacuum. You will fill. It's legit to take a break before you rush to do and just be.

PS: New book out! The Blood Knife released yesterday as a part of a box set called Beyond Twilight that's available for the next three weeks. We have eleven vampire books in the collection. A portion of proceeds supports the Southern Ohio Wolf Sanctuary. The stories are based on how vampires might have changed in the years since Twilight first came out. Politics have changed. Social justice has changed. Vamps have had to adapt. We wrote a few of those stories. While we may be writing Team Edward, we're supporting Team Jacob.

Check us out.

Really, Fiction??

I've been busting my knuckles for the past few weeks trying to get a novel written in short order for a box set called Beyond Twilight. It will be ten vampire novels and a portion of proceeds goes to charity. We're supporting the Southern Ohio Wolf Sanctuary.

And here's where I'd like to get into the single biggest thing about fiction that just does not work in real life, though I wish to all the gods it did and how do I get a slice of this fictional pie.

EVERYBODY'S RICH.

Have you noticed? We have all these stories about plucky heroines faced with financial adversity - someone's gonna buy Ma and Pa's farm out from under her, bulldoze it and build condos! Then, lo and behold, the hero, probably the one trying to buy the farm in the first place, shows up. In a Ferrari. Or some other status symbol indicating that he's loaded. Maybe the shoe is on the other foot and she's loaded. Regardless, it seems that few of us in the romance genre have fallen far from the fairy tale tree.

While a little wish fulfillment is good for the soul, one of the things I very rarely see handled in novels is the kind of trouble that comes from having money - people trying to ingratiate themselves. Not knowing who to trust. Fund managers absconding with cash.

I think that's why I like writing sf and fantasy as much as I do. I don't have to be weighed down by any kind of connection to or expectation of reality. Especially not in regard to how people keep roofs over their heads and food on tables. Or in the case of The Blood Knife, how they might actually *be* dinner.

The box set comes out July 22 and will only be available for three weeks. In this particular case, while not many of the authors are rich, we're hoping to raise enough money to help the sanctuary buy a 1k acre tract of land they have their eyes on. More wolves rescued and more room for them to run and play. This way, with Beyond Twilight, you don't have to decide whether you're team Edward or team Jacob.