The Baker's Memory Sequel

Pretty much the moment the first person finished reading The Baker's Memory they asked me if there would be a sequel. I said, "Well, I think I shut the door on that one." Or I'd tell people that I always imagined it as a stand alone book. Or, if you were really lucky I went into a rant about how I hate series. If you read one book, you're really committing to reading 7 books. I really hate series that you read while they're being written because you have to wait. Sometimes the time between books is excruciating and sometimes you're not even interested in them anymore but you're committed because you read one so you keep reading them. And, if the series is long enough, you end up with those bridge books that just set up the next book and you feel cheated.

But then Husband finished the book and said, "You have to write a sequel."

I said, "No. I shut the door on that option. Plus, I hate series."

He said, "You have to write a sequel and here's how you can do it."

Interestingly, he had a different interpretation of some key events as well as a different timeline in his head. And you know what? In his interpretation and with his timeline a sequel is completely possible.

So I said, "Fine, but it's still not a series. It'll just be two books."

I started working on a story about Beatrice, the woman from the epilogue. But the more I thought about Bea, the more it became clear to me that there had to be at least three books. There was too much for just two books. I was already seeing things beyond Bea. In fact, I was already thinking about Elle in book three who is covered in botanical tattoos and then I spent way too long on Pinterest looking at black and white botanical tattoos, which totally counts as writing.

What I'm trying to say is this:

There will be at least two more books in the Baker's series. 

Yellow Legal Pad Encouragement

 My across the street neighbor moved away a few days ago. We spent tons of time together and her whole family will be greatly missed. Little Guy has already announced that he's going to move into their new purple house with them. (The house isn't really purple.)

Before she left, my friend left me this. Yes, that's a 6-pack of yellow legal pads. My favorite. Seriously. I love yellow legal pads in a way that you probably shouldn't love office supplies. She knew about my passion.

Even bigger than the yellow legal pads themselves was the note she wrote.

 Emily, 
Please don't ever stop writing! I hope these legal pads will come in handy. (So you can forgo the napkins!) We will miss you a great deal. 
Love, Steph & family 

"

Wanted: Beta Readers

Seeking beta readers for a science fiction novel with religious themes. There might be magical monks and theology libraries.

What is a beta reader?
A beta reader is someone brave enough and kind enough to read a still crappy first draft and willing to give constructive, un-soul-crushing feedback.

Examples:

• What's working? What isn't? 
• Does the plot make any sense at all? 
• Where do I need more description? 
• Does the male protagonist sound like a man? 
• Do the two voices sound different enough? 
• Where are the plot holes? 
• Are their problems with continuity? 
• How bad is the theology?
• Call me out if it's the exact same story arc as The Baker's Memory

Requirements:

• Applicants must like me as a person and not seek to crush my soul 
• Must be proficient with Word and be able to write specific comments
• Must be able to complete assignment within 2 months
• Especially seeking beta readers who identify as male for help with the male character who still "sounds like a girl" according to one male beta reader

Compensation:

• Baked goods. Lots of baked goods
• My undying love
• Credit in the acknowledgements
• Reciprocation for any writing, editing work etc.

Sitting on Writing

 

I haven't updated in a while. Because our internet has been ruining my life wasn't working. And we went out of town for a while. And it's summer so I'm feeling lazy. And sometimes thinking about all the writer platform stuff I'm not doing is so overwhelming that it becomes paralyzing and I just throw my hands up.

I carry three writing notebooks with me at all times. The purple one is for quotes. I've been keeping a quote book since freshman year of high school. The striped one is for writing. The pink one is for things like "BAKE MUFFINS TOMORROW." Most of the time I end up scrawling song lyrics, hoping to find the song later. That's what most of that sheet is covered with. However, it also says,

Oblivion closet hula hoops.

I recently went through my notebooks mining for gold and I found 

Oblivion closet hula hoops

And I thought, "What in the world does that mean?" 

I don't even understand my own weird shorthand.  For a few days I laughed at myself, completely perplexed by those four words. But then I remembered. They were from a scene in the spiritual memoir. 

At some point in our lives we all live in closets and they may feel safe or at least safer than what lies on the other side of the door but I’m here to tell you that no matter what your walls are made of, a closet is no place for a person to live…We know it’s hard but we need you out here.
-Ash Beckham, “Coming out of your closet”, TEDX Boulder

I was hiding from myself in Tom’s bedroom.
And maybe from God.

After a few months we mutually agreed that it wasn’t working out. It was the simplest, least painful break up I’d ever experienced. After we broke up we became better friends. I stepped out of the closet that I’d built for myself out of Tom’s arms. I opened the door, squinting in the sunshine, feeling exposed in the bright light. I couldn’t stand being in the light. It was too hard. I quickly replaced that closet with walls made of hula hoops and badminton nets, roller skates and pints of beer. I went to hide at the Fun Vortex with Ben. 

The memoir has just become this thing I'm sitting on. It's like one of those wood bead seat covers. I can't decide if it's a good thing to sit on. Is it the best thing ever or is it awful? How long can I sit on this? If I decide to stop sitting on it, what do I do with it? Was this made for sitting on or does it have some hidden purpose? 

Oblivion closet hula hoops

   
    

Benchmarks

 

I hit over 50,000 words in the first draft of Miraculous Conception. I feel like a rock star. Usually I need the help of NaNoWriMo to get that many words on the page. And actually, I probably should still give some credit to NaNoWriMo. This was a failed NaNoWriMo project one year. I wrote about 25,000 words. But I was super pregnant and my in-laws were in town for a long time. I choose to spend time with them instead of writing the ending of a book when I didn't know how it ended. 

But now I know. 

I'm getting so excited about this book. And I'm making insanely great progress. 

I keep showing up and the words keep showing up. 

It's amazing, really. 

Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on. 

-Louis L'Amour

You, again.

This weekend I drove from Louisiana to Austin for a girls' weekend with my college friends. It was weird to make the drive all by myself. The first three hours of the drive I plotted the rest of Miraculous Conception. I worked it out scene by scene, even writing some of the dialogue in my head. I often write in my head while driving long distances.

Then I stopped at Chili's for lunch. It was then that I realized I'd forgotten to take a yellow legal pad with me. I survive, in part, because of yellow legal pads. I carry little notebooks in my purse but they're not really helpful for writing out the rest of a novel. I thought about getting out my laptop but I wanted to write with one hand and eat with the other. I was only about halfway through the drive and I didn't want to take a long lunch. I found a piece of cardboard in my car and covered both sides with notes.

This is not the first time I have sat alone in a restaurant writing on trash I found in my car. Once I wrote on a wrapping paper tube I ripped up. This is normal for me. This is what I do. This is who I am. Every time I do it I feel a little crazy. Every time I do it I feel like Me.

So I guess the moral of this story is either:
Keep a yellow legal pad in your car at all times
or it might be
Always keep trash you can scribble on in your car

Pretend

So often this writing stuff just feels Pretend. It exists in solitude. The only thing I have to show for years of work is a huge Word document. On my computer. That I don't show anyone. Quite a bit of the writing only exists in my head. Sometimes when I do try to share it with people I feel crazy because I turn into wild-eyed up all night writing Emily and I get too excited and my voice climbs too loud. I tell near strangers way too much, too fast because they held the key to the introvert door and everything just came tumbling out like an overstuffed closet.

But I actually published a book. And people are actually reading it. That's real and tangible. So for the first time in my life when people ask me what I do I'm calling myself a writer. I've called myself a writer in my head since I was ten but for the first time it feels Real.

Twice in the past month I have listed my occupation as "writer." I listed it on the Parent's Day Out application for Little Guy and I told the student from my college calling asking for money that I was a writer.

It's more than a hobby. I have fans who want another book. That's pretty good motivation.