Z.A. Maxfield

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Generosity of Spirit – My List

June 5, 2018 by Z.A. Maxfield

Generosity of Spirit has been the rule, not the exception in the author community as I’ve experienced it. I have been privileged to see my name on lists of authors who have helped with other authors’ careers, and I want to make my own list, here.

At first, I was tempted to put our willingness to help one another down to the obvious–writers cannot stop talking about writing or they’d have to do it.

But that’s not all this is about, is it? Because I have a theory that every real writer starts out as a reader. And for them, books aren’t simply commodities that can be packaged and marketed like the latest celebrity perfume, using a hint of this. A touch of that. People like this color this year so why not use that on the box?

Every reader/writer wants books to be good.

Most important, every real writer wants to do the impossible: Write the book no one has ever written before, so brilliantly that it breaks all sales records, without being a commercial success, because ew. Amiright?

When writers talk ideas are born.

There’s no reason your ghost written-in-a-week novel, dressed up with a fabulous cover, stuffed with fifty backlist titles, can’t be good. But the statistical chances of it being as good as a novel by a proven author are unlikely.

Marketing those books, buying ads, generating sales is hard work. So is day trading, or running a Ponzi scheme. So is grinding Texas hold ’em in Vegas, don’t ever let anyone tell you the life of a professional gambler is easy. But buying a book someone wrote and putting your name (or a fake name that pays into your PayPal account) on it, has to be the ultimate delusion.

Books enlighten us, inform us, and direct our future actions. They create empathy for our fellow travelers on this planet, even if those people are not like us. They are own-voice stories, and fiction, and fantasy. They speak of faith, and ethics–of the possible dangers of rigorously applied morality or cutting edge science, because writers can make hard concepts easy to understand. They invite discourse. They challenge perception.

Like cameras, they kill fascists.

And in my experience, writers have preferred lifting their fellows quietly, relentlessly, and lovingly rather than attempt to gouge or steal or bully or set attack dogs on their colleagues.

Twenty people without whom I would not have a career*, are:

***I knew I’d forget important people. Edited to add the amazing Heidi C. and Marie S. who came into my life with Coffee and Porn (figuratively speaking.)

  1. Terry Black
  2. K.A. Mitchell
  3. Josh Lanyon
  4. LB Gregg
  5. James Buchanan
  6. Louisa Edwards
  7. Samantha Kane
  8. Deidre Knight
  9. Treva Harte
  10. Laura Baumbach
  11. Kris Jacen
  12. Belinda McBride
  13. Lynn Lorenz
  14. Heidi Cullinan
  15. Marie Sexton
  16. Damon Suede
  17. Caitlyn Willows
  18. Christopher Koehler
  19. Amy Lane
  20. Rhys Ford
  21. Louella Nelson
  22. Debra Holland

*Many more are not listed here as I gave myself a not so hard limit of ten… headdesk.

Filed Under: about me, real life, writers, writing Tagged With: blog, News, Romance, talking with friends, writers, writing

MY #RWA.

September 6, 2017 by Z.A. Maxfield

When I joined RWA I was a mildly successful multi-published author of gay romance. I made pan with my first paycheck, but that was long before I understood what RWA was, so I didn’t bother joining for a while.

At that point I’d signed with an agent who loved my m/m books but did not think we could sell one to the Big 6. She had no books to flog to the big six because I was happy writing m/m and didn’t send her anything. (Although when I finally did send her a book, it got snapped up by a big six publisher within about a month because they’d been waiting for it, they said… Trial balloon, they said… Testing the market… they said.)

The market had apparently changed…

I think Lex Valentine talked me into RWA. Or someone. No one there read what we wrote when we joined. Pan met in this tiny room and the people who were already there were mostly Harlequin authors. Several stopped coming a year or two in, and I got the idea it was because they couldn’t be bothered with us noobs. So, yeah. Probably what was said online is true. There were a few people who left after complaining that pan had turned into something different than what they liked. They felt their group had been “invaded” by self-published authors. Maybe they just moved but I haven’t seen one or two of the more vocal ones for a long time.

They seemed nice. But they believed independent presses were all vanity publishers. They couldn’t wrap their mind around the fact that we were writing niche books and making tons more money per book than they were with ebooks–not real books but “ebooks”. Of course it didn’t last.

The things they pointed out about our publishers, low overhead, fly-by-night operations, publishers who know nothing about the business opening and closing right and left–even piracy were driving this little publishing bubble.

Technology, was driving this.

It must have seemed terribly unfair. They were in a closed system, like Tupperware, where you paid your dues and you worked hard, and great writers shared how they wrote their books and maybe one day it would happen to you. But there was this feeling you had to earn your way up through the ranks, right? And there was this other feeling “it happens” from outside of the group, you were picked, that I think is sketchy.

It doesn’t happen automatically. WE made it happen outside of RWA, so WTF?

And to them we weren’t even real writers, and those weren’t even books, because you had to read them on a computer. And like the talkies, those would never last.

Plus, to go with my Tupperware analogy, you can buy food keepers that aren’t Tupperware, but nothing is as good, right? It’s got that Good Housekeeping seal of approval, and we all know, WE KNOW, because we all have lids and bowls that don’t go together anymore that belonged to our grandmothers–they really do last for fucking ever. Unless you left them on the burner, they’re pristine. They’ve withstood the test of time…

But some of us like glass with a silicone lid, now, thank you.

Traditional publishing had been around forever. And only the very best of traditional stories could get in. Those old bodice rippers were written very well. And we’ve even stopped that super-problematic “love at first rape thing.”

Tupperware. Excellent product. No doubt about it.

But some of us don’t want to have to attend parties to buy shit for our kitchen. And some of us have a nostalgic longing for the square glass container our grandmother used with its homemade nylon elastacized lid because she couldn’t afford Tupperware.

But Tupperware’s the best, and as soon as we got married, I had my first Tupperware party because that’s what you do.

That’s a brand bias, folks. And you didn’t get it from a toilet seat, you got it from TUPPERWARE. They told you it was the best. And you bought it, and it turned out they were right. Tupperware makes the best plastic food saver. But have you tried those new rectangular glass containers with silicone lids? Just like Oma’s but perfectly sealed. Freezer to microwave to oven. Non-porous. Scrub it with steel wool, and nothing bad happens until you drop it, but I don’t even mind that. I like glass. Just saying…

Like Amway, Tupperware, Princess House, and whatever–RWA felt like multi-level marketing because at one point, it was multi-level marketing.

But the “each one teach one” model of romance has been exploded. This brings new problems. Not everyone wants to read the same book over and over, yet, we must never walk away from or denigrate those who do. There are marvelous stories everywhere, and we should make sure as many of them can get read as possible. You know what this mean? Huzzah, we can all find an audience.

And hey, if you don’t want to teach the noobs, no harm no foul. If RWA isn’t giving you what you need? Move on! OMG, there’s so much out there to learn, be and do; no one has to argue about it, Just move on. I’m pretty sure when I’m in the very well-made shoes of the artists complaining about RWA’s inclusion of noobs and other people they see as dead weight, I hope I’ll be busy enjoying my success too.

And, I hope I’ll give back. I think I will.

Romance as a genre has been exploded. And you’re not putting that genie back in the bottle, folks. Consumer cash dollars are out there waiting for stories that would never have flown in my early RWA days. And that’s good for EVERYONE.

If you could make Genie go back in her bottle, it’d be like saying, NOPE. We don’t want a pain reliever that works, or my old flat rock is fine for making pancakes even though I hate waiting for the sun to shine on it, or medical marijuana may ameliorate the agony of epilepsy and many other medical conditions, but we can do no testing on it because Jeff Sessions watched Reefer Madness on a rainy day in sixth grade and…

Oh, wait..

Okay back to writing. Most writers are writers and writers normally welcome other writers. And in RWA I’d say it fell well beyond the usual 80/20 rule–maybe 98% of the people I met were extremely welcoming because they saw me as a writer.

That’s the most important part of what I want to say here! In my own words. On my own page, and not in a forum where I’m arguing with my virtual siblings.

MOST OF RWA was extremely welcoming. I felt particularly welcomed by inspirational writer Charlotte Lobb, who turned out to be the kindest, funniest, most welcoming, loveliest person I have ever known, may she rest in peace. She welcomed all of us with an open heart, even if we wrote works she considered terribly racy.

And that’s the reason RWA exists.

We (and by this I mean the upstarts who changed things) are where are now, a lot of us, because back then we were simply technologically savvy. We leveraged that power, the ability to use a home computer– which, even back in the late 2000’s was not the chicken in every pot that it is now–to educate ourselves about publishing outside of what RWA offered us.

WE found opportunities: to join other like-minded writers in the search for craft, and commerce and excellence and avenues at which we could sell our work outside of traditional publishing.

And as WE flung ourselves into RWA, we shared this knowledge, y’all. I’ve walked people through upgrading websites, navigating the web, writing electronic queries, formatting, marketing. These were what I shared with the MS. and MR. Whomevers of RWA who weren’t tech savvy. They were enriched by MY presence there, even though I am not a NYT bestselling author — YET.

I happened to be interested in the Gay Romance genre. I could have just as easily been interested in het romance or werewolf stories, or science fiction fantasy. I found a niche that fed my spirit. And I found both writers and readers in that niche and I learned from my peers. (Many thanks to the many people I don’t have space to name here. Simply look at my Facebook friends list. I have learned from every one of you.)

Those highly intelligent, articulate, and motivated men and women who were already in RWA, who were welcoming, saw us not as upstarts or as radical outliers. They saw us as people they could learn from. They saw us as having taken the NEXT evolutionary step in publishing and they came to us and they picked our brains and they won big, because they learned they could go around the gatekeepers too.

Harlequin authors were already in the process of suing for their backlist, so they could put them out and make more money. I know many writers who got their books back from HQN and started self-pubbing those books. They learned they could change the world too, even if they remained in traditional publishing, they started to see they had options.

They said, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” They said, exactly as we were saying by joining them, “I want to do more, earn more, have more power…”

Together, we did.

It is only ever those who believe that what others are doing will somehow cost them, who balk at progress. There’s a good reason to fear electric lighting, if you’re a candlemaker. But you’re not. Those with a perceived monopoly fear progress in something that will take away their business.

At RWA we all write love stories. There is no logical comparison to be made here.

It is only ever those who believe intrinsically that there is never enough stuff to go around, that someone has to lose every time someone else wins, who don’t view the next big thing as a “possible” qualified positive. Positive, and in all likelihood–if I take the time and trouble to learn something new–possibly life changing and good for me as well.

To this I would add that KU is the opposite of a zero sum game. While it looks like these people make huge bounties, that is a reward system, and there’s a finite reward, and when someone gets more, someone gets less, the very definition of a zero sum game.

The $120,000 bounty someone makes by having the most normalized pages read or whatever there, at KU, is most definitely a reward, like a jackpot in gambling, for lever pressing the right number of times. It isn’t random. But it isn’t sales. It doesn’t adequately reflect a book’s quality, except as related to other books at that same price point for the reader: FREE. (or more precisely, whatever it costs a reader to pay for the service, divided by the cost of all the books they read per month.)

And while I’d love to have it, the money folks get in KU bounties does not affect my sales. There is a different system at work there. It’s like VEGAS. Amazon’s model is the model of FEEDING CATFISH in order to see what catfish will eat if they stop.

We must not eat our own for the possibility of the JACKPOT. 

Also irrational, is to kill the winner. They did nothing wrong, unless they did something venal and selfish or illegal or they hurt someone in order to win.

This is the most important part:

The game will end, and we’ll all still be here, either licking our chops or thin and weak from hunger but we are all still writers who only want to sell our stories and if I see you as venal because you stepped on me to get where you wanted to go, do you think I’m not going to remember that?

What’s important to YOU?

To me, success, money, power will always take a backseat to the value of people. What I get out of this business–out of writing–is being available, being known, making my heart utterly transparent, to other people. Why else would I write what’s in it down and share it?

Publishing, like life, “is not a zero sum game.” Many have said this, but I have to give Heidi Cullinan first credit I think, for use in this context. I believe winners win despite external circumstances.

Losers have a losing mindset. They see inevitable changes, and they worry their efficacy is fading and inevitably, their first instinct is to DESTROY those things and people and ideas that come along to change the status quo. They never learn. They assume they have to fight to keep the status quo, EVERY TIME.  They assume the status quo is safe, and the future uncertain.

Why can’t we learn? This isn’t just playing out on the backdrop of RWA.

RWA is a microcosm of a much larger world. Yes. The next generation will be more nimble. They’ll know more, They’ll do better. If you want to keep yourself relevant, you’ve got to keep moving, keep learning, do more, be more.

Not crush what’s next. That’s for idiots. Progress is an oncoming tank, and you only stand in front of those if you’re willing to die. Publishing’s not the tank I’m standing in front of because I’m standing in front of a much bigger one somewhere else.

I would caution that attempting to suppress the march of progress is often where we find the bottlenecks in evolution. The wars. The pain. The plagues. The mass extinctions.

Those people who welcomed my crowd to RWA did not say, “You must stay away because we’ve got it good here, and you’re RUINING EVERYTHING FOR ALL OF US.”

They did not say, we don’t want more money, more exposure, more free time, more cash for writing the stories of our hearts.

They said, “NO, I no longer wish to work in a system where my value is calculated by the sales of my last book and not by my last ninety books.”

This is human evolution… READ IT AND WEEP, oh ye stuck folks, ye purveyors of telegraphs! As soon as the telephone comes along we’ll all be “Blessing your hearts,” behind your backs.

Wake Up NOW. While you’re still on the party line. #MyRWA

 

Filed Under: Blog, website, writers, writing Tagged With: #MyRWA, writers, writing

Reflections On One’s Current ‘Magnum Dopus’*

July 11, 2017 by Z.A. Maxfield

Ever have one of those moments?**

*thanks to Josh Lanyon’s Adrien English Series for the term “Magnum Dopus.”

**This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

 

Filed Under: Blog, writers, writing Tagged With: Back to the beginning, New WIP, Plummet To Soar

Not one of the cold kids!

July 8, 2017 by Z.A. Maxfield

She looks like Elsa From Frozen!

That should have been my first clue!!!

You know those commercials about “the most interesting man in the world?” That dude has nothing on author Debra Holland, one of the amazing writers from #OCCRWA. She’s smart and funny and lovely and also a total badass, and in this picture she’s about to get into a cryo tank. Yes. To be Cryo’d.

Without getting into the reasons either one of us might get into one of those babies, specifically, there are a lot of reasons that people do.

And I’m an old hippie soul, gosh darnit. I was doing Transcendental Meditation at the age of 12. I have been a hundred different religions and also no religion at all. Before I was in college, I had experienced past life regression, had my astrological chart read by experts, memorized all the Christian Science tenets of faith, had energy work done and faith healing, and been rejected by prospective inlaws as being both too Jewish and too Christian–when not even theoretically, but actually I was neither.

So when Debra said, “Wanna try getting in a cryo tank?” I said, “I’m in.”

Because when life asks you if you are a goddess you say:

YES!

And I admit I’m easily led but I’m super, super smart about who I let lead me. I probably would have drawn the line somewhere. Electroconvulsive therapy, maybe. Heroin, definitely. I would have said no to heroin, had she offered it even if she’d said, this will make you feel good. So… You know. I can be led only up to a point. And it seemed like a good idea.

But Elsa up there has an obvious advantage, what with her being the goddess of ICE.

Hello yeah. I come from generations of people who lived in HAWAII.

Here’s a comparison:

You see what she’s doing? She’s DANCING. To a cute hit song. I shit you not. She is dancing to a song inside a machine that is freezing her alive. And it really looks like fun, doesn’t it? It looks like she is having a good time. Like she’s enjoying her own personal rave in there. Whooo. Spooky. Gotta get my groove on now. It’s cold.

But I ask you! How is a girl who was given up for adoption by four generations of Hawaiians and then adopted by five generations of Angelenos gonna know from cold?

She is not going to have a clue going in, that’s what. She is not going to have a single clue that she is about to get the abso-fucking-lutely worst headache of an entire lifetime of ice cream headaches and she’s going to think it’s never, ever, ever going away.

Behold, Le MOI!

I don’t think I’ve needed that particular expression since I gave birth to my second child. I swear, I really tried. I danced. I smiled and I acted as if. I placed myself in the hands of my higher power, and then I asked if I could please get out. Right now. Please. NO. I can’t seem to put on my robe, sir. I’m afraid I’ll have to run through your studio in my granny panties and bra, sir, what with my inability to imagine life after this moment…

Because yeah. No. Cold is cold. There’s a reason people wear clothing when the weather dips. And therapeutically speaking, we should probably have walked before running. Because I lasted slightly over one minute. And I really seriously think punching out was the right thing to do.

Maybe I’m just a hothouse flower. And maybe I’ll work up to it. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be one of those polar bear dudes, who leap into the frozen lakes and now I know. I will know more tomorrow.

Special thanks to Debra! They need to start making beer commercials about you!! Wow!

Filed Under: Adventure, author friends, Blog, real life, writers, writing Tagged With: #OOCCRWA, badassery, me cold, peer pressure

Deep Breath, and hold to the count of one thousand .

May 25, 2016 by Z.A. Maxfield

IMG_1095OMG. I am now officially UP FOR AIR.

This is me, powerposing back in February, during a Sisters in Crime event. I don’t know what it is about powerposing that makes it work. I don’t even know if it does. Placebo effect? Who cares?

<———I saw a Ted Talk, so I did this thing to prepare for a pitch session. What’s really hilarious is the face of the woman sitting behind me. I’m sure she was simply trying to concentrate or meditate and I was splashing my prana all over her composure or whatever. I felt bad, but when you see a chance, you take it, right? You make the most of it. I was pitching a story idea to a producer dude. I needed energy. So I stood there like an idiot and I smiled. This photograph was taken by a person who took turns powerposing and taking pictures with me. That is apparently a very popular ted talk. Thank you Dr. Amy Cuddy!

Visit This Ted Talk in a new Window. You’re welcome.

Monday, I sent the first viable draft of My Cowboy Freedom to my editor and I am really really proud of it—for a first draft.

It represents a really critical struggle: one during which I truly believed I might have to look for another job.

I can’t be the only author who ever got lost or imprisoned in a manuscript, who had to write her way free, but wow. When I say the hardest battles I’ve fought have been waged in my head, this is what I’m talking about.

If anyone ever asks me again, “What do you do?” I am going to say, “I’m a goddamn professional writer is what I do.”

Because despite the fact that I lost faith in myself about five percent of the way in, and despite the fact it was a deeper, more meaningful loss of faith than I have ever had, I fought hard to keep my job. I worked, even though I had no enthusiasm. I wrote, even when I had no energy and no ideas and no desire to do it. I finished, even though I wanted to quit.

I got help, because I didn’t kid myself: I needed help. (see writernextdoor.com)

In fact, it has been almost as though *sarcasm font* I have a real job, it’s been THAT hard.

Note, I did NOT have a capricious Sharon Stone Muse to fluff me while I worked, either. (Universe? I don’t want to harp on the Sofia Vergara thing, but OMG, I love her so much. Please and thank you!)

Now for the UGLY truth: I am mother tiger who plays favorites and this job–this book–wasn’t the child I loved best.

Authors have feelings too. I might want to write noir but my brand says Romance. Or what if I’ve discovered a new genre I love or I’ve gotten into the music scene and now I only want to write lyrics to songs. That’s still writing right?

I had to asked myself an important question:

“Am I a professional writer? OR, Am I a person who goes to writing and now I don’t like it so I want whoever is in charge to call my mom to come and pick me up?”

Or maybe I have a way, way worse, question: “Am I a person who had a moment and a muse who left me, and now it’s all gone, poof, bibbity, bobbity, boo, like some magic I’ve used up? Wait!!! Is this shit finite? Am I wasting my preciousssss words on this story, or that story, while I could be writing the other story–the one my heart believes in so completely it’s probably cosmically awful crap?”

Because oh, my god, what if I believe in a story that hard and it actually is Cosmically. Awful. Crap?

No. No. Creativity doesn’t come from outside of the creator. We all know better than that. Even I know better than that. I do.

It’s in precesly those awful moments everyone who has a job–except members of congress, apparently–find out: Shit gets real sometimes and you still have to work.

Deep. Breath. In … Out.

I fixed it. I made myself hang the f*ck on. I worked through uncomfortable writing sessions. I wrote in spurts of 250 wrong words that I was lucky to find on any given day, but now I’m done.

I finished 93K words of a book that I think should probably only be about 85K and now I must begin the unenviable process of taking out all the stuff that doesn’t belong and scouring the universe for more of what does.

And it’s going to be awesome! Or it’s not. Oh my god, maybe it’s really, really not…

And that’s okay. It’s fine. It’s PERFECT.

Because I’ve got more where that came from.

We write to contract. We write to deadline. I have to confess here that I am way, way behind on my deadlines and that’s part of what is adding to my personal shame. I can and will catch up.

I am a great worker. I am a terrific employee. I don’t want to be perceived as anything else, ever.

I am a professional, I keep my promises. And that’s exactly because the business is fickle and fast-changing and audiences are migratory. In the end all I may have to show for my art is my professionalism.

What I can tell you now is I have the power of writing.

I can write anything. It’s my job, not my hobby. It’s a project, a plan, an adventure, a journey I am prepared to take. I am prepared to work like a fiend. I’m prepared to expect adversity. I’m prepared to love my delete button so much I lick my delete button until we achieve simultaneous orgasmic electrocution, that’s how much I’m prepared to love it.

I’m prepared to throw out days and days and days’ worth of work if I think you, dear reader, deserve better from me. And I am prepared to have a goddamn blast doing it.

So that’s one contracted book down. I have five more to go, plus four un-contracted projects. This work will take me through to 2018. But now I know I can do it, deep in my bones, in my heart, in my ancestor’s hearts, where all my stories come from, I know this.

I’ve got this.

From Partially sunlit Orange County, home of the world’s largest mouse house, I say: Let the books begin!

Okay word herd, ye ZAMbassadors, and ZAMsters. I know you’re out there. Chime in. Tell me what you’re writing, Tell me how you’re feeling. Tell me what’s new with you, because I have rejoined the world, and it is very fine indeed.

 

Filed Under: about me, Blog, writers, writing

RT 2016 – Coming up for air

April 24, 2016 by Z.A. Maxfield

IMG_1136It’s been a week since we said good-bye, RT, and I miss you more than I can say! The Rio? Not so much…

This year I took my daughter Zoe with me, and we roomed together. To say my daughter is adorable and amazing and fun to be around is a major understatement. But I’m such a mom!

First off, I should probably qualify my thoughts by starting with the reality! I don’t enjoy much about Las Vegas. I know, I know. It’s a fun place and everyone loves it. But when you don’t gamble and you don’t drink Vegas is just one big smoke-filled titty bar. Or… Mantitty bar. Because the Rio is where they host the Chippendale folks. A lot of people got mileage out of that. Did I mention I was there with my daughter? If strangers see me perving on a muscle-clad dancer half my age that’s one thing. If my daughter sees that??? Quite another.

So, um. I wasn’t really up for the cover model reindeer games. Although the cover models were handsome and personable as always, I’m now at an age where I solicit their advice on where to shop for young men’s clothing and if they’re too thin, I offer soup. And not in a “Stick your finger through the bars, lets see if you’re plump enough for me to eat, Hansel” way, either.

I got to see a whole bunch of people I love. I wish I could name you all. After a week in Vegas I’m lucky I remember I saw you.

And then there’s The Food. WTF is wrong with you people! I ordered eggs Benedict and I got something that had fried mashed potatoes,  a chicken cutlet, deep fried vermicelli noodles, and a cheese blanket.

A CHEESE BLANKET? 

Sounds like something astronauts had to use to keep warm in 1969. 

Tasted like it too.

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Every time I ordered food it was like I’d lost a bet to the house. Burgers? IMPOSSIBLY HUGE. Nachos? Came in a trash can. Room service? Non-existent. Coffee makers? Also non-existent. Thank God for Starbucks protein packs. And existential guilt, which caused my daughter to be very accommodating when I asked her to get me coffee in the morning. Here we are with Cherry Adair, because we were all waiting in a line together to drop our books off for the book fair:

That’s how you worm your way into photos with your idols!

IMG_1115Got some pictures of the Riptide peeps! Amelia Vaughn isn’t in this one, but she was there too, being her adorable self. I won’t be happy until I get a Sarah Frantz Lyons hug, but that’s just me.

<—–That’s Rachel Haimowitz, Chris Muldoon, (locals only, baby!) and Alex Whitehall. This is just before playing my first game of Cards Against Humanity. How I managed to avoid this game for as long as my kids have played, I have no idea.

We won, because YEAH. Our table was definitely all that!!!

Have I mentioned that Riptide Publishing never fails to impress me with their hard work, their attention to detail, and their kindness to their authors? Riptide Rocks. Just Sayin’!

I also got to see my editors from Berkley! Authors wore pink feather boas and since I mostly wear black from head to toe I walked around spitting pink feathers and shedding them off my clothes for the rest of the day! Say hello to Kristine (top) and Cindy (next). They are two of the wisest, kindest, people I know. Thank you for helping bring my cowboys to life! (And readers: look for My Cowboy Freedom in September)

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There was a book signing on Saturday morning and the Penguin party right after. I finished there at about 5:30 and I was just… KNACKERED. AND HERE IS WHERE I APOLOGIZE!!!

Unfortunately, exhaustion and hunger claimed me at that point. Five LONG days in, after three panels, after parties and working crowds and enjoying the company of everyone I had the chance to meet, it all became too much, and I missed the Fan-Tastic Day Party that Dreamspinner puts on every year. I deeply regret any disappointment I may have caused.

The following day, I heard someone who’d traveled from France was looking for me. I am truly, deeply sorry if I missed anyone who wanted to see me there. I heard someone brought book covers for me to sign, and apparently, I missed crossing paths with them at all the events.

To the person who looked for me: I had nothing but a description to go on, but I looked for you the following day, Sunday, and also Monday, until it became necessary for me to check out. I never found you!!! If you like, please contact me through email, zamaxfield @ zamaxfield (dot) com. We can make arrangements somehow to get those signed at my expense.

I am so terribly sorry. More on that if you read this! If anyone knows the person I missed, please let them know! (OR me, so I can contact them) Thanks!

 

Filed Under: Adventure, author friends, Blog, writers, writing

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