One of the leaders of Word Weavers, a dozen or so Christian women writers that meet at the Portiuncula Center for Prayer in Frankfort, Illinois, asked me to share, during a workshop, what turned out to be my rather colorful publishing experiences.
Since I really like meeting and talking with other writers, and the entire Bryony project has been so much fun, I readily agreed. I later learned yesteday's event was the first time this two-year old group had invited a speaker. What an honor!
Not entirely certain what the women might want to know, I simply told my story. I'm an asthmatic that grew up reading and writing; I absolutely dote on pre-twentieth century vampires stories; and I conceived the concept of Bryony nearly thirty years ago.
I talked about writing tmy novel inside out and how, in the process, that one book became four, a cookbook, and a CD. I related my online education about the world of publishing, the submission process, agent querying and small press querying, along with the requests, and rejections, I received.
I talked about editing, self-publishing and ISBN's, the book trailer, the music video, branding, and marketing, and then passed around some laminated Bryony business cards and my press kit. Only when I noticed a few of the women were taking notes did I realize how much I've learned these past few years.
A pleasant surprise occured during the introductions, but first, a digression. This past weekend, while editing Visage, the second book in the BryonySeries, which we hope to release this fall, there's a scene where Melissa is shelving periodicals at the college library. This briefly reminded me of when I had done the same, more than thirty years ago, and a quick memory of my employer flashed through my mind.
So, when a woman to my left began talking about her current project, I immediately recognized her as my former boss. I glanced at her name tag; the name matched.
"Did you work in periodicals at the University of St. Francis?" I asked, extending my hand to the woman, who now look bewildered, but smiling.
She had.
"Denise Schonbachler," I said. "I used to work for you."
Even more astounding, she remembered.
"I grew up," I simply said.
It was a joyous reconnection. She asked me to sign a book especially for her, and someone snapped a few pictures. To top it off, something else happened earlier in the day, which might open some new writing opportunities for me.
I can't provide details yet, but please, keep your fingers crossed, say a prayer, sacrifice a goat, etc., etc. that if the challenge arrives, I'll be prepared to meet it.
Since I really like meeting and talking with other writers, and the entire Bryony project has been so much fun, I readily agreed. I later learned yesteday's event was the first time this two-year old group had invited a speaker. What an honor!
Not entirely certain what the women might want to know, I simply told my story. I'm an asthmatic that grew up reading and writing; I absolutely dote on pre-twentieth century vampires stories; and I conceived the concept of Bryony nearly thirty years ago.
I talked about writing tmy novel inside out and how, in the process, that one book became four, a cookbook, and a CD. I related my online education about the world of publishing, the submission process, agent querying and small press querying, along with the requests, and rejections, I received.
I talked about editing, self-publishing and ISBN's, the book trailer, the music video, branding, and marketing, and then passed around some laminated Bryony business cards and my press kit. Only when I noticed a few of the women were taking notes did I realize how much I've learned these past few years.
A pleasant surprise occured during the introductions, but first, a digression. This past weekend, while editing Visage, the second book in the BryonySeries, which we hope to release this fall, there's a scene where Melissa is shelving periodicals at the college library. This briefly reminded me of when I had done the same, more than thirty years ago, and a quick memory of my employer flashed through my mind.
So, when a woman to my left began talking about her current project, I immediately recognized her as my former boss. I glanced at her name tag; the name matched.
"Did you work in periodicals at the University of St. Francis?" I asked, extending my hand to the woman, who now look bewildered, but smiling.
She had.
"Denise Schonbachler," I said. "I used to work for you."
Even more astounding, she remembered.
"I grew up," I simply said.
It was a joyous reconnection. She asked me to sign a book especially for her, and someone snapped a few pictures. To top it off, something else happened earlier in the day, which might open some new writing opportunities for me.
I can't provide details yet, but please, keep your fingers crossed, say a prayer, sacrifice a goat, etc., etc. that if the challenge arrives, I'll be prepared to meet it.
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