History repeats itself - again

Here I go again on my own...

No, it's not David Coverdale belting out a hit song. Once again the universe has spoken and I've no choice but to listen. The owners of Whiskey Creek Press have decided to sell the company. 

It was a good run, albeit a complacent one. Time was things were different. Then came the Triskelion bankruptcy debacle. Then came the Aspen Mountain Press implosion. This time, though, it's different. Sort of. 

Whiskey Creek gave authors the option of agreeing to the terms of the purchaser and I opted out for the simple reason I'd never heard of the purchaser. So now all but one of my Whiskey Creek titles will be going out of print. One Summer will still be available but I don't have a clue as to the new link. Frankly, it's not with my full blessing they kept this title. I have the distinct impression that had I not agreed to let Start keep One Summer, I wouldn't have had a chance in hell of getting the other books back.  And I'm still not about to sign the form. (7/6/14 -As it is, Start instructed Whiskey Creek to return rights to ten "works" to me and I haven't gotten the reversion letter yet. I may not if I don't sign the form.) 

I suddenly have a MUCH better understanding of why an author would self-publish. 

Fortunately, Across Time and Step Into Tomorrow are with Amber Quill Press. It may sound strange but the very first ebook I ever purchased I bought at Amber Quill. I was delighted to be able to place a few stories with them. 

I'm back to wondering what's the right move. Maybe there isn't one. And maybe, like before, a door will open and shine a light out into the void and point me in the right direction. 

Rayne

Rayne's Ramblings: Old blogs and sneaky advertisers

Having a fascination with reading the headlines is a vice that doesn't cost much. I like it that way. Because I'm tight. I save money, not spend it. Clicking on an article is cheap entertainment as well as educational. But today I clicked on a headline and got an unpleasant surprise. Shine wanted to track my location.

Why?

This makes me instantly suspicious because I know why. They want to inundate me with advertisements to entice me to spend money.

Sorry. Better luck next time.

* * *

On another note, Twenty-six Keys is latest in a series of blogs I've had over the years. I started out on Live Journal, tried Wordpress but didn't stay with that, had a newsletter blog called Forrest Whispers, had Rayne's Ramblings for all things not writing, and a regular blog.

I was looking back through some of the older entries (I wrote them in a word processing program and then pasted them in) wondering if any of them had withstood the test of time well enough to be re-published. For the most part, that's a no, they didn't.

The next question was should I delete them? Again, no. Those old blogs are part of my history as a writer. I see how far I've come since the early days, and how far I need to travel to make it back to actively writing as Rayne Forrest. It's all good. Just another season in my life.

Rayne

To serve the future best

It's been a long, hot summer. Is that an understatement? Depends on where you live. It's almost September, and it hasn't cooled off. I begin to think the snows of last winter are preferable. The heat sucks the energy out of a person, leaving the body listless but the brain overactive.

I've been grappling with what is a serious issue in a writer's life: What do I need to do to continue in this business? A straightforward question, but one with multi-tiered implications and few pat answers.

"They" say to be successful in epublishing you need to maintain a current Internet presence and promote. Let's face it. You can't spend your time on the Internet sucking up to everyone and still have time - and energy - to write something. Maybe I shouldn't mention this, but I've been a few places on the Internet that exhibit a decided lack of maturity, and therefore are not a good way to spend valuable time.

It's been a long process, but several of the epublishing houses have accomplished what I always knew would happen. The cream is rising. I have a very short list of houses I would allow my name to be associated with, which brings me to the thorniest consideration of all: The Name.

It's well accepted among authors that name recognition can run a course, and when that happens, it's okay to start over with a new pen name. Perhaps that has some merit for the Rayne Forrest name.

"Rayne" didn't know much when she started out. A smidgen of talent got her started, but she made a lot of mistakes. Her voice is stronger now, more confident. She has matured along with the epublishing industry. So how best to step into tomorrow without letting go of best things of the past? Those best things being a readership that appreciated the Rayne Forrest brand.

Thorny, yes? Insurmountable, no.

As the industry moves forward, so will I. Blending a past imperfect with plans for the future bright is something we all do every day. The past is a road map that shows us what works, and those pitfalls we stumbled into. Yes, it's too bad the map stops abruptly at our feet without showing us the next proper step, but that's what makes it interesting.

Have I allowed this internal debate to interfere with moving forward? Has it stopped me from taking that next step with fears of a misstep? Sadly, I think it has. But the need to share my thoughts tells me that a decision is at hand. I only wish I knew for sure what it will be.

All I know is that in my own personal life, the decision will come in the midst of doing something else. It will simply be there as if it had always existed, and I'll know it's the right thing for me.

Rayne

A new season

1There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace. - Ecclesiastes 3:1-8


When I stop moving, stop working, stop hustling and bustling around, these ancient words always come to mind. In typical fashion, I usually remember the opening in reverse, “for everything there is a time,” but I don’t think that matters too much. It doesn’t change the meaning of the words, or how I apply them to my life. Most recently, my life has seen a season of trying new things, and laying the groundwork for my last working years. A time to plant, as it were.

At a glance, those two things might seem to be at odds, but my life is one of polar opposites. Maybe it’s because I’m a Gemini. Anyway, I’ve gone through a time of serious home improvement work with new roof shingles, the installation of a central air conditioning system, and now a roof over my patio. All of this was done to ‘feather my nest’ in preparation of scaling back and working less hours. If the economy cooperates, it may actually happen.

It’s been difficult to be away from the writing, but it was important to accomplish these items without incurring any debt. I love to write! It defines who I am in ways nothing else does. Yes, I’m someone’s wife, someone’s best friend, someone’s daughter, but that defines me in relation to another. That I am a writer defines me to myself.

So, a season of hard work is behind me, one I don’t regret experiencing. I learned something every step of the way, which I consider important. I’ve eased into a season of taking better care of myself so I can once again tap into that central part of me and let the words flow. I’m more than a little excited at the prospect.

Where should I go first? What new characters await me? Can I attain the new goals I seek? I will if it is my season to do so. I’ve scattered so many stones along the way. It could be my time to gather them together and shore up old bridges even as I build new ones.

As exciting as it is to move forward again, it’s also daunting. The mistakes of the past, the ones that made it easy to set aside my keyboard for a small space of time, will always plague me. In the epublishing business, those mistakes were, and remain, visible. All I can do is set them behind me, and hope the lessons learned were not in vain. It is time to trust that the right people will come into my life.

And it’s time to trust that you are still there, waiting for a story.

Rayne
http://www.rayneforrest.com

Rayne's Ramblings: Diet is DIE with a T

To say that 2009 has been a year of rest for me is probably understating the fact. The peaks and valleys of upheaval smoothed out, and gave me some peace. But like any good rolling stone, I haven't stopped long enough to let the moss gather.

Being an introspective sort of person, I constantly take stock of where my life is now, and where it is going. With those around me finally healthy again, this past summer was the right time for me to look at my own health. I've been making a few positive changes. Unfortunately, with free time scarce, it meant moving away from the computer, and, well, moving myself. Okay, it meant moving my ass. And my arms.

One of these days I hope to scale back the amount of hours I spend working outside the home. To do that, I've got to be firmly entrenched in an exercise routine. Yeah, yeah, you read it everywhere you go. I read it, too. But this was the year I took it to heart. And kicking, screaming, and begrudging every moment spent away from my writing, I began. And you know what? It hasn't been too bad.

Honest. I actually look forward to my walks. My upper body workout? Eeyyyyy, not so much, but I do it. Twenty minutes a day? I don't think so. I bust through the movements and I move on, but at least I'm doing them. Maybe some day I'll start to enjoy them..OR NOT..but I'm not giving up.

And diet? Well, diet is simply DIE with a T. You stop eating, you die. So that's definitely a one day at a time change, too. Some days, I do great. Other days, not so good, but it seems like I'm doing better all the time. The easiest thing has been eating at least one piece of fruit a day. As soon as I hop in my car to drive home from the day job, I munch on an apple. So far, they haven't outlawed THAT while driving.

Am I making progress? The last pair of slacks I bought were a size smaller. However, there is one drink I won't give up. Give up my coffee? I'll rip your hand off if you try to take my coffee away, but I can tolerate a fat-free creamer.

So, Rayne's rambling again. Perhaps. I look at the changes made this past year as positive steps for my writing, because they are positive steps for me. Feeling better, sleeping better (I've always been a champ at that), and eating better can only help me write better. That's my theory.

What's up next for Rayne the author? A science-fiction erotic romance entitled, A Hero's Bargain, coming early in 2010.

What's up next for Rayne the woman? Perhaps a wardrobe full of smaller-sized clothes. Wouldn't that be wonderful? It certainly would.

Challengers, refrigerators, men and romance

I have a fascination with the headline news. Go ahead and call me a sucker, but things like, “NC sheriff’s deputy uses Corvette to stop speeders” grabs my attention. Personally, I’d use a Corvette to catch good-looking guys, but to each their own. But, today’s blog isn’t about Corvettes. Or the new Camaro. Or Challenger. It’s about refrigerators.

Say what? What does any of that have to do with romance? More than you think.

Labor Day weekend, 2001, just nine days before the world changed forever, we bought a new refrigerator. It was one of those side-by-side jobs with the ice dispenser in the door. Very nice. Very expensive, too, but neither of us had ever had a new refrigerator before. We come from modest backgrounds, and used hand-me-down appliances that still worked weren’t anything a can of spray appliance paint couldn’t spruce-up.

Well, our love affair with the big, black box in the kitchen went south in a hurry. My beloved and I came home one day to the thing spitting ice cubes out onto the ceramic tile floor. Not good. Even worse, three of the tiles had gotten so cold they cracked. The replacements aren’t a perfect match, either. We had the box repaired and moved on.

Before long, the freezer wasn’t freezing. We discovered the problem was in the electronics. If we unplugged it, and let it “thaw” out, we could plug it back in and it would be fine. At a couple hundred dollars a house call, the repairman doing what we could do ourselves was out of the question. I declared we’d have to live with it until the mortgage was paid off. My beloved agreed. We’d muddle through for a couple more years.

And so we did until last month, and the big, black box did it again. It was the sixth time in as many years, and my patience snapped. We went shopping and picked up one of those units with the freezer on the bottom.

Um, the romance part of this? I’m getting to it.

New refrigerators are ridiculously overpriced. I mean, really totally over the top. We almost decided to continue to endure the old one. I’m the one that carted frozen stuff up and down the basement stairs, and moved food from the ‘fridge to the cooler and then back. All he did was unplug the thing from the wall. If he could continue, so could I.

But then my honey, this balding, bad-boy ex-lead guitarist and two-time cancer survivor said he’d pay for the new refrigerator.

You might say, “and well he should,” but I disagree. For years, this man has been squirreling away his pennies for one last hot car in which to relive a small part of his youth while he can still have fun doing it. So instead of putting his money down on a new Challenger with a V8 Hemi, he plunked it down on domesticity.

Pretty darned romantic, if you ask me.

Rayne
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