Category Archives: First Reader (aka Husband)
My Author Photo
Taking a picture of myself that is worthy of a book cover is nearly impossible. The only other process that comes close to requiring perfect sync of so many variables is the miracle of conception. Yet the world is full of author photos, and agent … Continue reading
I Am Thankful for Instant Messaging
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I wish to express gratitude to technology for promoting close ties with my loved ones (pictured right) even if it occasionally feels too close for comfort. Take my cell phone. Please. Family members can catch me in the book store, girl lunches, and the hairdresser’s shampoo … Continue reading
Filed under Cindy Jones, First Reader (aka Husband), launching things, Motherhood, teenagers
How I Found My Literary Agent
Five years ago, I listened with 500 unpublished writers in a huge hotel ballroom as a panel of literary agents introduced themselves to the Writer’s League of Texas. We were there because we all wanted one thing: a literary agent. But who among us had what it … Continue reading
Filed under Agent, First Reader (aka Husband), The business of writing...
First Bird Leaves Nest (Got a hankie?)
We dropped Oldest Son at college last week, our first to leave home. As we packed the car early Sunday morning, a young couple entertaining a toddler on their front steps watched our separation unfold. A perfect moment for me to witness the startling truth of … Continue reading
Inside Story: The Title Diet
My Writing Teacher warned us not to waste calories worrying about titles for our books. Editors replace working titles–in a heartbeat–at the appropriate time. Nonetheless, I secretly wasted calories worrying about titles. I burned calories I could have used writing a sequel. FYI: Title Worry consumes the same number of calories … Continue reading
Weather Porn for Texans: How I Chilled on My Summer Vacation
I’ve never written weather porn before. (I swear). But cryptic vacation updates from Facebook friends reporting low temperatures have left me lusting for sensual details: like cool air sliding through open windows at night and bare feet freezing in mountain streams, for instance. I vowed when I returned from my own chilly … Continue reading
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