Eight million BILLION years later… The problem with being self-published is that when things go off the rails, things REALLY go off the rails. Life smacked us about the head and shoulders pretty good. Serves me right for speculating about things like… oh, say… getting the book out earlier than anticipated? Last time I’ll do THAT. I apologize
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Eight million years later… Ok, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but hey – I think that’s in the job description. Though I tend to think of fiction as less about exaggeration and more about… well, skimming over the uninteresting bits. As much as possible, anyway. I mean, Ryan probably had to pee dozens of times in the first book,
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Finding your voice doesn’t always mean finding the right words, because your voice isn’t always about talking, is it? You speak through your music. Your knitting. Your dancing. Your sketching. Your gardening. It’s all an expression of something – love, hate, desire, frustration, kindness, sadness, happiness, loneliness. For writers, it is about the words. Which ones do you choose? How
Read moreI know, I know. I’ve been terribly negligent lately. Between editing, rereading, writing, and fielding my mother’s uncomfortably acute insights, I’m just exhausted. Lack of sleep might also have something to do with it, but that comes with the territory. Good news: We’re close. Book two is so so so soooo close. Expect a publication date soon… and perhaps that
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You’ve probably heard the one about having three faces: the one you show to the world, the one you show to your close friends and family, and the one you never show to anyone. Every time I hear that, I think, “Three? Really? Are you kidding me?” You have to be kidding me. Strangers. Hostile strangers. Friendly strangers. Acquaintances. Friends.
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Heather Masterson 