So here’s my plan: I’ve been pondering running a critique workshop, so now I’m going to run one for charity. You donate to one of the organizations sending disaster relief help to Oklahoma – American Red Cross, Feeding America, Operation USA, Samaritan’s Purse – and you’re entered into the workshop. That’s it.

I am being joined by the fabulous, amazing, generous Dahlia Adler, Marieke Nijkamp, Brenda Drake, K.T. Hanna, Elizabeth Prats, Jennifer Malone, Michelle Painchaud, Nazarea Andrews, Heather Webb, Molly Lee, Angi Black, Irene Rose, Francesca Zappia, Krista Van Dolzer, Dee Romito, S.M. Johnston, Kimberly Chase and Natalie Parker, who will be helping me field crits.

Details:

• This is open to pretty much anybody. Your query or first page can be adult, YA, NA, MG or PB – doesn’t matter – but you must be willing to have your query or first page displayed on this blog.
• You have from the time of this posting until 11:00 PM EST/8:00 PM PST on Saturday, May 25th, to enter.
• You are entered as soon as you email me a copy of your donation receipt or some other form of verification that you’ve donated.
• There is a minimum donation amount of $10.00 USD. For regional donations, please use the Moore, OK, zip code of 73160.
• Once I’ve received your verification, I will email you back to confirm your entry, and you will send me EITHER your query or your first 250 words to be critiqued.
• Entries will be critted by either myself or one of my fantastic helpers, and I will post them on this blog next week*.

There is no limit to the entries at this point, and the only qualification is that you give a little support to the Oklahoma tornado victims who desperately need help rebuilding their lives. If you don’t have a query or first page to workshop, keep an eye on this website as Beth Fred is setting up a charity auction in the coming days.

Here are donation links**:

• American Red Cross
• Operation USA
• Feeding America
• Samaritan’s Purse

And the workshop entry email again: critsforcharity@gmail.com

PLEASE NOTE: The charities listed above are options but are NOT the only acceptable charities. All I’m looking for is some verification that you donated to an organization that’s helping out with Oklahoma disaster relief.

*This is somewhat contingent on how popular this workshop gets. If I get a billion entries, obviously I won’t be able to post them all next week. I will have to space them out.

**All of these charities have been double-checked for their credibility using charitynavigator.org.

It seems to me there are three groups in publishing right now:

1. The ones who are hardcore traditional publishing
2. The ones who are hardcore indie publishing
3. The ones in between – either in practice or mentality – who we’ll just categorize as “hybrids”

For the sake of this post, hybrids doesn’t just mean those who have published books both traditionally and independently. It means those who recognize that both forms are viable, that both forms offer different risks and benefits, and that it entirely depends on the book and the author.

More and more people are drifting into the hybrid area every day, and I’m fucking ecstatic about it. I think this is publishing’s future. Not the epic, crumbling downfall of the Big 5. Not the book industry collapsing under the weight of “all that self-published crap.” But an open-minded mindset that embraces the possibilities of both avenues and stays flexible.

What frustrates me is when I see the hardcore groups lashing out, refusing to admit that the other side is doing anything right. Because they are, guys. Each side is doing something right.

I’m gonna be honest – this gif doesn’t really apply. I just love Avatar.

Hardcore traditionals: Can we step up and recognize that indie publishing has the pace and flexibility to keep up with the new marketplace? That they’re being nimble and adaptive in a way that’s making you look like a dinosaur? That the more control you take away from the author, the more you’re hurting yourselves?

Hardcore indies: Can we step up and recognize that traditional still does some great things? Like pulling in people with different skill sets to help make the book better? Like taking a little bit of time to plan, invest, gear up marketing strategies and build buzz?

The fact of the matter is that the authors who are willing and able to learn from BOTH sides of the industry are the ones who I believe are going to rise to the top. Yes, traditional publishing needs to break out of its old models, but indie publishing can learn a thing or two about promotion and quality.

When Amazon initially kickstarted the indie craze, you could get by with throwing a book out there with very little prep, a cheap cover, maybe editing but probably not, and yeah – sometimes those books still sell. And no, I don’t think indies need to dedicate two years to producing and marketing one book at a time – like I said, the nimbleness of this path is one of the best things about it.

But continuing to encourage writers to rush books onto the scene, books that aren’t ready? To throw together a “decent” book with a “decent” cover and call it good enough?

Seriously? Fuck decent. Decent is limp. Decent is passive. We’re worth more than decent.

Yes, I believe the best indie authors are those who release books often. No, I don’t believe that you should just put all your book-eggs in one book-basket. But I also believe you can stay flexible without shortchanging yourselves and your readers on things like editing, editing, editing – oh, and also packaging and maybe even a little bit of promotion. You can be prolific without totally sacrificing quality.

If indie publishing wants respect, it has to fucking earn it first.

And in case you think I’m just bagging on indies here – hardcore traditionals? It would help if, instead of throwing away all indies away as “self-published crap,” you could get your noses out of the air and recognize that a lot of indies are working their asses off and producing killer stories.

We’re starting to filter to the middle – hybrids are slowly becoming the name of the game – but there are still so many people drawing dividing lines where lines don’t need to be. We all want to give readers great stories.

And the best way to do that is to learn from both sides and move forward.

What I’m Reading
I’ve been working my way through North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell, mostly because I’m somewhat obsessed with the BBC miniseries with the delicious Richard Armitage as John Thornton. I finished it last night, in time to give the book back to my mother-in-law when she visits this weekend.

I’m also trying to catch up on the manuscripts that have been long-neglected on my Kindle. I think they’ll be the reading focus for the coming week.

What I’m Writing
I outlined some revision ideas for PECULIAR DARK and got some feedback from CPs on it, but PD is still backburnered while I let it stew and make sure I don’t rush it stupidly forward. I broke 15K on my adult science fiction WIP, Big Ben, and I’ve managed to get character sketches together for a new project – a serial. Trying to plot a serial has been a really interesting mental exercise because I keep trying to attack it like a regular novel and draw big arcs. But the episodic nature of serials require a different angle, a different focus. You have to format dozens of little arcs and stories that BUILD to a big arc.

I’m also jumping in and out of revisions for my co-project with Brenda Drake. It’s kind of a relief to jump into Ryan’s head for AFTER PARTY because I know him so well now. Revisions are just my thing. *huggles revisions*

What Inspires Me Right Now
This is a tough one because I haven’t been feeling very inspired this week. I think part of that has been regular life busy-ness, but I can’t use that as an excuse. Writing what I want, when I want has been inspiring the past few weeks and has refreshed me, but I think – like all indulgences – it’s starting to hit that point where it’s not so good for me. So we’ll see what happens with this in the coming weeks.

I think I can safely say that this song is hella inspiring me for Big Ben. And I definitely need a little boost on that story at the moment.

What Else I’ve Been Up To

• The Man and I have are usually rotating cadre of shows. We’re trying to finish up Burn Notice, but I think we’re both a little over it at this point. The central character doesn’t seem to be evolving, nor are his relationships with the other characters. The only draw at this point is Bruce Campbell being awesome… We started watching Continuum instead, a Canadian scifi show  that has some interesting world-building and likable characters. I’m hoping it continues to develop and deepen both of these aspects.
• The weather is warm enough (every now and then – we’re supposed to have freaking snow tomorrow) that I’m going outside more to run. I’m really not great at running and I hate it, but it’s a new goal to try to work up to 3 miles. I can run…1 mile right now. That’s it. And it takes me awhile, and I suck air despite the fact that I work out all the time. I need to fix this running stuff.
• Speaking of the outdoors, The Man and I have vowed to be better gardeners this year – with both decorative plants and vegetables. We tried last year, but the extra-hot, drought-y summer didn’t do us any favors and we kinda let things slide. No longer! *raises fist*
• Oh, and I only have one more week of dog-sitting this sweet but rather destructive lab. I’ll be quite happy to turn him back over to his family…

So what have you been up to lately?

]]> http://beccaweston.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/whats-up-wednesday/feed/ 5 beccaweston ButtonSmallBorder http://beccaweston.wordpress.com/2013/04/16/the-sum-of-us/ http://beccaweston.wordpress.com/2013/04/16/the-sum-of-us/#comments Tue, 16 Apr 2013 14:11:03 +0000 Becca http://beccaweston.wordpress.com/?p=2083 ]]> As we’ve discussed, I’m an impatient person.

I’m petty and judgmental and jealous. I have road rage. I’m vain. I get angry easily and passive-aggressive even easier. I’m anxious and neurotic and paranoid.

Deep inside me, there are demons with horrible faces, locked inside cages with no keys, testing the bars every day to try to find a way out.

I don’t let them out, though, because they are not the sum of me.

I’m more than my flaws. I work to rise above them. I know that the other parts of me are worth the struggle to keep those demons in their prisons.

Parts like empathy. Like love and compassion. Like intelligence, curiosity and growth. Like strength and courage and willpower, creativity and imagination and heart.

Most of the people out there are like this: flawed but rising. Just trying to reach up and pull themselves a little higher. This doesn’t just apply to one nation or one belief system. This isn’t about ethnicity or birthplace, whether you believe in one god or dozens or none.

This is the human condition.

Humanity has demons with horrible faces. It has flaws, dark spots, things that ought to stay caged but sometimes creep out.

They are not the sum of us. They only become the sum of us when we let them. When we stop loving, giving, helping, hugging, reaching out, stepping up.

When we stop rising.

Don’t hit the back button just yet – this has to do with writing, I swear.

A few years back, I was a single gal, living in my very own apartment, feeling all smart and independent and adult-like. And while I felt I wasn’t around enough to take care of a dog, I did miss having pets, and I thought I would get a cat to keep me company when I was sitting around watch House Hunters marathons. (Preferably House Hunters: International. I mean, come on.)

Lo and behold, a girl I work with posts about a cat she found who needs a home. Because I am both impatient and impulsive, I snatch that kitty right up.

“Don’t do it,” my mom tells me. “It’s not good for your asthma or allergies.”

“Don’t do it,” says my sister and my boyfriend. “You need to make sure you’re really ready for a pet first.”

Me:

Becks not pictured. This is a reenactment.

Guess what.

I’m allergic to cats.

And they’re hard on my asthma.

And I wasn’t quite ready for the responsibility of a pet.

I had people try to tell me these things, but I wasn’t willing to listen. I couldn’t hear them. I wanted to hit the fast forward the button, and nothin’ but experience would teach me. After a week, I realized the situation wasn’t good for me OR the cat and placed him a loving home where he’s very happy.

Here’s the part where I bring it back to writing.

When I got back into the swing of things in fall of 2011, I had Plans. Epic Plans. I was going to rewrite my YA urban fantasy that had once been repped, snag a new agent with my polished-up words and get back on track to being published. The Man told me to take my time, to think through my revisions, to make sure there was water in the pool before I threw myself off the high dive.

I didn’t. I threw together the revisions as quickly as possible and started entering contests and querying. I threw together another set of revisions before I had even really let the first set breathe. I could hardly sit STILL long enough to wait on crit responses or query responses.

Part of this is because I’m still an impatient person, but, more than that, I felt this urgency in my chest. I felt like a clock was ticking.

It was very similar to a biological clock. Only instead of human babies, it was book babies. I had intended to be published YEARS and YEARS ago, and I hadn’t yet succeeded. I just needed to get it done, get it out there, because I was BEHIND. I was stuck while EVERYONE around me was hitting the goals I had set out to achieve: agents, publications, etcs. Every year that passed was just another year that I had failed to get ahead in the author-ing game, to get a book out there on the market (where it would, of course, dazzle all readers).

Write. TICK TOCK. Revise. TICK TOCK. Write. TICK TOCK. Revise. TICK – GODDAMNIT WHY ISN’T THIS FINISHED YET? I’M BEHIND!

I’ve been doing this for over a year now. Feeling behind. Feeling like for every step I take toward the Ultimate Publishing Dream, I take three steps back. My writing has suffered for it. That poor YA book has been ravaged by my urgency to try and get it into publishing shape.

Not “the best shape for it” or “the best book it can possibly be” - just ANY shape so long as I can throw it out there and hit that “published” checkmark.

I am lucky to have patient people around me – people like my husband who wait until I’m ready listen and remind me that there’s no clock. I’m not behind anything or anyone. There’s just me and the stories and words I love.

Recently, I’ve slowed down a bit. I’ve let myself have the breathing space to play with and muck around in multiple story ideas as it suits me. And it’s been fun.

No, not the band. Though they’re awesome, too.

Remember that? Writing=fun? I think it’s easy to forget sometimes – or, at least, it’s easy for me to forget. And I have to keep having these moments where I learn it all over again. Where I sit myself down, look at myself in the mirror and go, “Stop it.”

Stop flailing, Becks. Stop trying to scrabble up a mountain like if you just throw yourself around hard enough, you’ll magically wake up at the top of it. Stop even looking at that fucking mountain. That fucking mountain is in your imagination. Stop bruising your body and your hands trying to fight your way ahead. Ahead of who, exactly? Or what? Look around, Becks. It’s Fight Club, and you’re your own Tyler Durden. Knock that shit off.

The likelihood that this message – to be patient, to write for fun because there’s no clock – will stick is, honestly, not high. We all have our flaws that we try to overcome, and impatience is one of mine. But I’m putting this down on here so, if and when I find myself with bloody fingernails and a panicked heart, I can come back here. Reread this. And remember.

Breathe. Think about the cat. And stop looking at that fucking mountain.

So I’m starting with posting my Next Big Thing. Fabulous mystery writer extraordinaire Sarah Henning tagged me in this FOREVER ago, and I never got around to posting it. I’m posting it now about one of my works-in-progress, although it’ll be a little scant on the information since the project is still in its early stages. Also, go see Sarah and say hi because she’s brilliant.

What is the working title of your book?
It doesn’t really have one at the moment. It has a code name – BIG BEN – until I can come up with anything more interesting.

Where did the idea come from for the book?
A dream. I know, I know…how very Stephenie Meyers of me. I had a very interesting dream one night, and I wrote it all down. Then I started playing with the concept like Play-Doh – mixing colors, smashing it up, pulling out pieces, adding back in other pieces – until I got it into an shape that I feel might work.

What genre does your book fall under?
Adult science fiction, set on a fictional planet way in the future. I suppose it could be classified as New Adult given the main character’s age, but I’ll probably just send it out as adult.

What’s your book about?
There are a lot of details and things I’m playing with that I won’t get into here – partly because it’s still a baby book and partly because I’ve gotten a little more paranoid about sharing too much about my projects. The basic premise goes thusly:

Twenty-two-year-old Valkyrie Bruinn is, essentially, a wet work agent for a local crime syndicate. It’s messy work, but it keeps her sisters fed, sheltered and off the streets. Their safety is the only thing that matters, so she keeps her head down, follows the rules, doesn’t stir up trouble. When an accident destroys her home and her sisters, she’s lost. When she finds out it might not have been an accident, she’ll tear apart the whole planet for the sake of vengeance.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
Good question! I’ll likely query it when it’s ready to go, but we’re a ways away from that yet.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
I did a lot of image searching for this question because the main character is of Pakistani descent, and I have a very clear picture of her in my head. After looking around, I found Iman Ali, who I think is gorgeous and can rock a fierce anger and a fierce sadness, both of which would be important to play Valkyrie.

Iman Ali via ForumPakistan.com

The middle sister, Rose, was a little easier since she looks like their mother: pale, freckled, redheaded. I went straight to English actress Lily Cole, who has a wide-eyed, ethereal quality that is perfect.

Lily Cole via CoolSpotters.com

The youngest sister is Bethany, and like Val, she looks like her father instead of their shared mother. I think Amandla Stenberg is so beautiful and so talented, and she’s exactly who I picture to play the hyper-intelligent Beth.

Amandla Stenberg via En.HungerTimes.com

The last character I’m casting is Otieno, infamous thief and Val’s former friend whom she breaks out of prison to help her. I spent quite a bit of time scrolling through pictures of beautiful black men (my life is so hard) before I decided on Edi Gathegi. Otieno needs a hint of deadly and a hint of ornery, and I think he has both.

Edi Gathegi via BlackFilm.com

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the book?
I’ll let you know when it’s finished.

What else about your book might pique readers’ interests?
Look, if you like bad ass chicks and explosions, you’re probably going to like a lot of what I write. This one also has some fun steampunk elements, alien races that come in pairs, assassinations, giant law enforcement robots, and a crew of charming criminals.

I don’t have any specific to tag, so I’ll just tag all of you beautiful followers. I want to know what you’re working on! Tell me in the comments or put on your blogs and link me.

I’ve got everything you need to know about PICTURE PERFECT and Alessandra Thomas here, as well as links to wicked-awesome giveaway and all the other blogs lined up on the big tour. Check it out…

PICTURE PERFECT Synopsis:

Fashion design major Cat Mitchell has a closet full of gorgeous clothes – and not a single thing fits. After two years of runway modeling for easy cash, an accident shattered her lower leg bone and her self-esteem in just one swift fall. Ten months of no exercise, prescription steroids, comfort eating and yoga pants meant returning to campus as a size twelve instead of her former size two. When her gorgeous long-time friend with benefits sees her for the first time after her accident and snubs her in front of all her friends, Cat’s self-image hits rock bottom. Her sorority sisters all insist that she looks gorgeous, but all Cat sees is the roll of her stomach when she sits down, or the dimpling at the back of her thighs that wasn’t there last year. Cat’s therapist prescribes something radical to stop the downward spiral – nude modeling for a nearby college’s human form drawing classes. When Cat faces her fears and bares it all for the class, she realizes that she’s posing naked in front the most gorgeous, buffest guy she’s ever seen in her life. He asks her out after the class, and after one steamy night together, Cat’s absolutely smitten.

Nate’s pretty close to perfect – he takes Cat rock climbing when he discovers that it makes her feel strong and becomes a great chef after he learns that the perfect pesto sauce makes her swoon. Cat starts to feel like her old self again – confident and beautiful – as long as Nate’s around. Even when he discourages her from entering the Real Woman Project, a design competition for plus-sized apparel, she reasons that he’s just trying to prevent old body image wounds from splitting wide open again. But when Cat goes home with Nate for Thanksgiving, she discovers something shocking from his recent past that proves that he hasn’t always been so encouraging of women of all shapes and sizes. Cat has no idea what to think, but she does know one thing – this might destroy their relationship before it’s even had a chance to get off the ground.

Before Cat can figure out whether the real Nate is the sensitive, adoring guy she fell in love with, or an undercover asshole, she’ll have to finally feel comfortable in her own skin – even if it means leaving him forever.

Author Bio:
Alessandra Thomas is a New Adult writer who swears she was in her twenties yesterday. Since she’s not, she spends her time looking back on her college years fondly, and writing sexy stories about guys and girls falling in love and really living life for the first time. When she’s not writing, you can find her with a spoonful of ice cream in one hand and the newest New Adult release in the other.

And there’s a giveaway, too!
ENTER FOR A CHANCE TO WIN PICTURE PERFECT

Check it out more about Alessandra and her books on:

• Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/book/show/17286268-picture-perfect
• Twitter: www.twitter.com/AuthorAless
• Facebook: www.facebook.com/alessandra.thomas.98?ref=ts&fref=ts

And follow the rest of the blog tour here:

And I can’t even say it’s because of rejection or the whole publishing process – although as Cait Peterson so aptly puts it on YA Misfits that part is rough.

I think about quitting sometimes because of the writing itself.

It would look a lot like this.

Here’s a good parallel: I love to work out. I mean, I don’t love going to the gym, I don’t go, “Oh my god, I can’t WAIT!” But I love pushing myself, feeling the strength of my body, and I love the sensation afterward: exhausted, hollow, but building…becoming stronger. I didn’t always feel this way about exercise. I had a very yo-yo relationship with weight and working out and fitness, and it took a solid six months of making it a priority before I could claim I worked out regularly and enjoyed it.

Still, despite this, it’s still easy for me to fall off the fitness wagon. After my extremely relaxing honeymoon, I had a hell of a time in the next two weeks trying to get up off the couch and move. I would come up with a thousand excuses and revel in all the other fun things I could be doing with that hour. (Reading! Video games! TV!) But when I did finally get back in the habit, I remember my I love it.

This is what my relationship with writing is like, too.

When I’m in the writing zone, it’s awesome. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, but I don’t care because I’m getting words on the page, twisting them around, buffing them up. I’m toying with characters like a fucking demi-god, and I know them all and love them and want other people to hear their stories because I think they’re stories are awesome and important. It doesn’t matter if it’s a good day where the words fall from my fingers like rain or a bad day where I’m wringing them, desperately, from my blood, I have the satisfaction of doing something I love and making progress.

And then, like recently, I finish a draft and send it away for feedback. I give myself “just a little time off” to recover before I start my new project.

And I fall off the wagon.

I don’t mean to, but sometimes it’s so easy for me to let things slide. To start playing video games again. To start marathoning a TV show that I’ve always wanted to watch. To suggest a full Lord of the Rings rewatch with The Man. To do anything but write.

Because it’s hard.

Because it’s time-consuming.

Because it’s basically a mental workout.

I think to myself, “Other people just go to work, come home and do whatever. They don’t have to worry about plotlines and character arcs and how many words they’ve written. They don’t have to tell their significant other, ‘Sorry, sweetie, I can’t cuddle with you and watch TV – I have to work tonight.’ I could be one of those people…”

It doesn’t last. I get antsy. I get restless. Other people’s stories aren’t enough; I want to tell my own, my way. I want to explore new characters and worlds and find out the best ways to tell them.

So I don’t think I’ll ever actually quit, but sometimes, just sometimes, I think about it.

And on top of that, the synopsis hits one of my major weak points. Check it out:

Sabah always knew where she belonged — with Berg — and what was expected of her — to care for the other children the Mistress took in.

But when a ban-wolf saves her life, things begin to change.

Arjun isn’t like the other ban-wolves, the savage creatures that are barely human. He’s gentle and furious and as Sabah spends time with him, she can’t seem to get him out of her mind. But in a world of darkness, control, and danger, is there a place for two outcasts?

A romantic retelling of Beauty and the Beast in a dark dystopia.

Annnnnd you had me at Beauty and the Beast. Plus the genre-blurring of dystopia, paranormal, fairytale, romance… I’m really stoked for this one, guys! And because Nazarea is a sweetheart, she’s sharing an exclusive excerpt with us on the blog today. Not only that, but I have a brand-new giveaway that I’ll be running on Twitter TOMORROW, March 8th.

Thanks to Nazarea, I will have the pleasure of giving away an e-copy of Edge of the Falls along with a gorgeous knitted scarf.

So stay tuned, follow myself and Nazarea on Twitter if you don’t already, and kick back and enjoy this EXCLUSIVE excerpt of Edge of the Falls which releases March 12th.

I can’t help but glance around as I near the outbuilding. I have not seen the white ban-wolf since we sat under the pine tree before I went to the City. I find myself missing him. Even his musical screams have been absent.

The wind has picked up by the time Cook and I finish loading the boxes onto the trolley. I shiver as I drag it through the deepening darkness, the cold wind turning my sweat to ice and promising snow.

A whisper of noise is my only herald to his presence. He is closer than he was before — and blocking my path. I pause, wipe my sweat away and scrub it on my cloak. I am uncomfortably aware of how I must look — dusty and windblown and tired.

He sniffs at me and shakes his head, violently.

“You were at the bridge,” I say, not a question. His eyes dart away, toward the City, his lips peeling back to bare his teeth. I follow the gaze, and sigh, “I hate going to the City — but my sister. She was dying.”

It is a weak excuse. I know nothing about the ban-wolf, but I have picked up on his distaste for the City.

He steps toward me and I fall back, stumbling in my surprise. His lip curls a little. Guilt pierces me — I have offended him. His claws close around the trolley handle and he jerks it forward. Silently, I follow him to the outbuilding.

He is sniffing at the packages, his ears pricked curiously. I reach for one and he growls, picks it up. I wait, watching — if he wants a box full of rice in payment for his protection, I figure it is more than a fair trade. Although it does seem an odd choice.

He surprises me — again — when he carries the box into the outbuilding, stacking it neatly with the other boxes of beans and dried goods.

He carries them all in, quickly and gracefully. I watch, too surprised to intervene — and something tells me he wouldn’t appreciate it. When he is finished, we both stand in the darkness, staring at each other. The silence stretches between us and I finally fidget. “I don’t understand you,” I say quietly. His ears prick at my words, and despite how softly I am speaking, I know he can hear me. “You’re a ban-wolf. You ought to be killing me, not risking your life by following me to the bridge. The Keepers…” My voice trails off, and I look away. The thought of the Keepers firing upon my ban-wolf shakes me. It’s unthinkable.

“They’d never shoot me.”

The voice is guttural, a sound of teeth and growls. It jerks my eyes up, and I gape at him. In all our stories of ban-wolves, I have never heard of one who could communicate in anything more than a scream. His lips twist around sharp teeth and he tosses his head, throwing his hair from his eyes. “Too many of them trained with me,” he says, and I stumble. He catches me, steadies me easily.

“Why?” I whisper, “Why are you doing this?”

I don’t specify what — protecting me, helping me, following me, watching me. I can see from the flicker in his golden eyes he knows what.

An eerie scream, so close that it makes my ears hurt fills the night. He growls, low in his throat, a sound that sends chills down my spine. But he steps toward me, pulls me closer to the protection of his body. His claws are so gentle they don’t even snag the rough fabric of my shirt. I can feel the heat of him, he’s so close. “I don’t understand,” I whisper, peering up at him.

His golden eyes are gentle and frustrated, but he smiles a little, dipping down so his breath warms the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Neither do I.”

Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog. Her first book, Edge of the Falls, is available March 12.

I think, at this point, it’s pretty obvious who Random House was trying to snag with these digital imprints: unagented writers who are:

• Hungry for publication
• Frustrated with the traditional process
• Considering indie publishing
• Yet still are somewhat attached to the idea of traditional validity and the desire for a “Big 6″ label

In other words, writers like me.

I remember hearing about the launch of these imprints back in November. I remember staring at the Hydra page and thinking, “Oh my god, this is it. This could be my in. My way to be published by freaking RANDOM HOUSE.”

I didn’t have anything ready to send to them at that point, and this has turned out to be a good thing. But for those who did and who signed that contract… Well, Hydra, the word “predatory” comes to mind. But when you pair this with news items like Pearson/Penguin Group purchasing the notorious Author Solutions, then it just drives home one, clear message:

The best advocate you have is you.

Even if you have an agent. Even if you have a GREAT agent. Your writing career is 100% yours and the only one you have. There is no one else who depends on the success of your work quite like you do. And it is work. It’s a business. Which means anytime you partner with anyone, you should investigate the shit out of that person or company.

You’ve heard “no agent is better than a bad agent”? Well, that’s true. Trust me when I say that it’s fun being able to tell everyone you have a literary agent, but it loses its luster if you end up knee-deep in a mess of incompetency or extortion or worse.*

Y’know what else is true? No publisher is better than a bad publisher. It seems strange and a bit sacrilegious to say that, but for reals, people. It’s not worth signing on the dotted line just to get your work out there if they’re going to bend you over a table in the long run. Not these days; not when we have other options – direct-to-consumer options – available to us.

Which, speaking of, if you go indie, it’s the same shit, different day. It’s your book, your product, so don’t just hire any ol’ person to help you put it out there. No cover designer is better than a bad cover designer. No editor is better than a bad editor. Repeat it to yourself. Do your due diligence. Make sure they’re going to help you put out something quality, something you’re proud of.

I’m not trying to be self-righteous. I’m an impulsive person, and if I had submitted to Hydra back in November and gotten a contract in December, I probably would’ve signed it. Because I want my books out there and because I would’ve trusted Random House.

I would’ve trusted them, and they would’ve screwed me. Not because they hate me personally but because they’re a business trying to get a slice of the sweet self-publishing pie. Because their goal is to advocate for themselves. It’s their job.

And our only defense against the predators is to advocate for ourselves just as hard.

*Note: Just to make it clear: I adore literary agents. I would love to have one of my very own someday. But not everyone who calls themselves a literary agent is one or is a good one, so make sure you don’t just like the agent personally. They also need to be an effective business partner.