2014: The Year of Send It, Forget It

I know I've been very much ignoring the blog lately, but I wanted to say this in a spot where I can't backpedal later on and pretend I didn't say it. (Only possibly claim I was in a state of exhaustion-induced insanity)

I've decided that my writing goal for 2014 is to make 365 (thoughtful!) submissions. Queries count. Short stories count. Contests count. Heck, I'm even going to say self-publishing a piece counts, if I choose to do that. (Not in my plans per se, but you never know.) Why? Because in 2013, I left so many good pieces of work sitting without a chance for a home because one or two people said no. I let a few people's lack of enthusiasm make me feel like the manuscripts I loved and the manuscripts a lot of trustworthy betas loved must be garbage. And I chanted to myself, "if you were just good enough, everyone you submitted to would've said yes." (Y'know, because apparently things like market saturation, similar submissions, a perceived niche audience, and just plain not good days to submit don't exist in my little world.)

I'm done with that attitude. Turns out that when you make stuff, not everyone wants to give you money for it. And that's okay. I wrote something. I think it's sellable. And I'm sending it out into the world based on that notion. If the world thinks so too, we'll have a happy chat. In the meantime, I'll be off writing more somethings. That's what I can control.

I'm already a real writer. And I'm gonna win. :)

JT Flashback #1: 18 Months

As the new little one has been creeping her way up the growth charts, I've been reminiscing about JT's younger days. Also about the blog posts I wrote and never got around to posting. Here's a fun little one from when JT was just 18 months old:

JT has been on a "no" kick lately. He naturally uses it when he doesn't want to do whatever it was I just asked him to do, but he's also using it to tell other kids what to do. See, he has yet to add the infamous, "Mine!" to his vocabulary, so when he sees a kid approaching that he think might take something of his, "No!" is the word of choice. He also has a real tendency to yell this at kids who (in my mind, anyway), clearly don't have the slightest interest in taking his stuff. They just happen to be standing near him. He's also way more apt to say it to kids his age than older kids. For the preschoolers who approach him, he just sort of stares in awe at their tallness and ability to use full sentences.

He's also picked up "All done!" as a way to tell me when he's finished. Not just with eating, but with anything. Tired of waiting in line at the store? All done! Don't particularly want to go see the doctor? All done! Want to get off the changing table before Mommy has even removed the dirty diaper? All done! When realization hits that this magic phrase doesn't stop everything he dislikes, he gets quite irritated.

I feel like toddlerhood must be this crazy frustrating time when it comes to words. For a short while, there's the thrilling realization that, "Oh my gosh! If I use these word things, I can actually tell the adults what I want!" Then comes the devastating realization that even though Mommy clearly understood you, she still chose to ignore your request. I can see why the two's are terrible. Learning that the world doesn't bend to your will like you once thought is a tough lesson. Unfortunately, if we don't want our kids to grow into impossibly obnoxious adults, it's a lesson all parents have to teach.

My fear right now is when the new baby comes home, JT is going to take one look at him/her and proclaim, "No. All done!" and expect me to take the baby back to the hospital. (Update: He did actually say this when he visited me at the hospital, but mostly because he wanted to go and look at the cool train they had set up in the lobby.)

Water Speaker

Just a little overview of my novel that's riding the query-go-round right now...

Query

Seventeen-year-old April Harding would rather lose an eye than lose her magic. And considering she can't hear, that's saying something.

April is determined to prove that a deaf athlete can still compete in magical sports, but the game scene is hardly steady. Player no-shows have been increasing for weeks. When April witnesses a suspicious conversation, she discovers why: someone is stealing players' powers, an act pretty much on par with cutting their legs off. Yet none of the victims have come forward. Some have even committed suicide, leaving April with nil evidence when she approaches the police. She needs solid proof before anyone else becomes a target, and she's ready to fight for it. There's just one tiny problem: the magic thief knows that April is onto her. And that makes April a pretty good-looking target herself.

WATER SPEAKER (57,000 words) is a YA modern fantasy.

Sincerely,

Katrina S. Forest

First 250 words

The pebbles had started growing again. I ran as fast as I could, but by the time I reached them, they'd blown up to the size of refrigerators and blocked the entire length of the playing court. Behind them, my opponent merrily dribbled the ball towards my goal.

Not now. Not this game. Focus on his weakness.

Right. My opponent's boulder-growing magic was nice and all, but it made him a one-trick pony. Once he set up his stupid barriers, he became like a soccer player, moving the ball with his feet and nothing else.

I, on the other hand, had my water.

I cupped my hands, and the floating puddle next to me flowed through my fingers, letting me manipulate it like putty. The words "25 meters to goal" flew across the glowing blue scoreboard.

I sent two jets of water flying into the closest boulders. They broke right through. The brittle rocks fell to pieces, sending decent vibrations through the rubber flooring. I leapt over the rubble, and my lungs seized with the dusty air.

"15 meters to goal," flashed the scoreboard. How had he passed the center line already? I split the water again, creating a line of four liquid globes. No problem seeing my opponent now – his uniform was an obnoxious bright red with the words, "Harrisburg Fine Chocolate" emblazoned in yellow on either arm. But the gap between us was huge. It'd take a quarter minute to catch the guy at least.

New Book, New Baby

Nene arrived nice and healthy and is doing well. Thanks, everyone. And yes, I'm back to writing too. Have to find some way to keep sane, right? :)

So, here's a peek of our newest family member:

See my next post for a peek at my newest novel.

Hiatus Again

We're coming down to the wire on the new arrival, although not quite there yet. (I'm thinking of calling her Nene or something online, because that's what her brother said the first time we tried to get him to say her actual name.) So until big events start happening, expect me to be pretty quiet for a while once again. Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday and Happy New Year!