Hello Idiot, You Haven't Written a Book Yet

Summer's plugging along.  I wake up every morning and get to choose what I want to do.  Yeah, I know.  You hate me.  No worries; I'll be losing my mind with the rest of you workaholics come August.

Today I pulled out the weeds popping in around the pond and spruced up the area.  Exciting stuff (this reminds me of the time Mr. Moore challenged me to write about a super-boring day as if it wasn't boring, except for this time, it really is boring).  I also went to the movies with Clint and the kids.  I'm getting tired of going to the movies, but he loves it, so I bribed him.  I told him if he cleaned up the house (superficially), I'd go with him.  It was worth it.  I got nice buttery popcorn and my house looks great.

Yesterday was ridiculous.  I spent hours building an author's website.  The website looks awesome, with plot synopses for all four novels in my make-believe series and links to Amazon where you can buy all of them.  Except for one tiny problem:  These books don't exist.  I even included one-sentence reviews of my books from imaginary magazines like the "Station Stop" and "Tardis Talk" (that one was Trin's).  According to the Tardis Talk, my book is "easily the most intricately spun time-travel fantasy fiction novel of our generation."

Have I mentioned yet that THESE BOOKS DON'T EXIST?

It was probably one of the most ridiculous activities I've ever engaged in.  It was so addicting.  I guess some people have their Angry Birds and Candy Crush; I have my imaginary website for my imaginary books in the imaginary world where I'm an author.  The good news is around 11:00 last night I came out of my happy little cloud and realized "Hello, idiot.  You haven't written a book yet."

So there was that.

On that note, I visited my grandparents in Camarillo, and had a great time swimming with my grandma and talking shop (aka: manuscripts) with my grandpa.  He read the first eight chapters of DoT and gave me amazing feedback.  I think my grandpa would have made an incredible editor if he had chosen that route.  The last piece of feedback said this (I cut it out and pasted it into my manuscript notebook):

It might not be quite as elegant as the Tardis Talk's review, but hey, it's real.  Of course it came from my grandpa, so you have to take that with a grain of salt.  But still, I was thrilled that an 84 year old man found something worth reading in a story that I geared toward high-schoolers.  That same 84 year old man also discovered I used the word "just" in my story over a hundred times, but we won't talk about that.

One more thing before I sign off.  I'm changing the title of my book again.  "Face of Brahman" isn't doing anything for me.  I thought it might grow on me, but it's not.  And after thinking about it, it occurred to me that even I would probably walk right by a book with that title.  That's a pretty bad sign.  So now, I'm very tentatively calling Book 1 "Spiraling," Book 2 "Smoldered," Book 3 "Frigid," and Book 4 "Revived" (you can find all of these titles on my super cool website).  Other than a few obscure self-published pieces that use another tense of one of these words, the titles seem original enough.  As far as the series' name, I've reverted back to "Daughters of Time."  I can't help it.  I can't imagine the series being called anything else.

So off I go to change that sidebar name...again.