Tuesday, December 24, 2019

2019 In Review! Did I Meet My Goals?


Me and Roxi in Big Spring Park all rights reserved




In January last year I set up some personal writing goals.  For fun I want to review them and see what I accomplished vs what needs work.

Accomplished: 

I wanted to finish my second draft of Follow Me: Tattered Veils and succeeded (what's the difference between the 2 drafts?  Talked about that here). More than that!  This year I:

-Sent Tattered Veils off to a copy editor (some further blogging about that experience here
-Made the corrections from the copy editor
-Have a Copywrite on Tattered Veils—which means a copy of my work will be available in the Library of Congress
-Commissioned a cover artist and have cover art complete for Tattered Veils
-Got a publishing team together and have that team:
       -Created a website for me and a landing page for Tattered Veils and future works
       -Created an author’s Facebook page
       -Discussed, created, and sent A.R.C.s (advanced reader copies) to people for an early review
       - Had a proof copy of my novel in my hands
       -Chose a date of publication (and I’m thrilled to announce I will self publish Follow Me: Tattered Veils on Amazon this Feb the 29th a leap year ^_^)

I taught a free Intro to Creative Writing class with Ashley and we plan to run our course again this year.  It is exciting to continue refining our class. Hopefully this class will turn into a way we can give back to the writing community, inspire other writers, and create a closer community of people with similar goals.

I met my book reading goals for 2019 and reviewed most of the books I read (check out my Goodreads profile).  I also created shelves for my read Goodreads books so they are easier for other readers to sort through.  

2019 was a great year for esoteric folklore.  I learned about this thing called “#folklorethursday” on Twitter and it’s awesome.  The community connecting and telling different little bits of trivial there is soooooo cool.  I read a couple great pagan books that reconnected me earth based traditions, some will even work in my southern environment even if British weather is colder and rainier.  I also had the chance to write up a bit of info on traditional holidays and some different writing prompts to accompany the holidays.  My well for inspiration seems full.

Opportunities: 

I didn’t maintain a constant blogging habit.  At my personal blog, I posted about 11 times.  I posted 12 times in the N.A.W.G. blog.  Along with less frequent posting, I’ve dropped the ball in my social media game.  This may have cost me an audience or sense of reliability.  I promise I’ve been very busy in my writing life, it just hasn’t all been on display for the people who might watch at home.

My goals for blogging and social media were too lofty.  Given how much socializing even online takes out of me and given how each blog post takes time I could write creatively off the table, it was never realistic I would both complete my Tattered Veils goals and maintain an active blog presence.  No regrets over which I chose.  Now I have a book, if I’d stuck with the blog who knows how far away holding a copy of my work would have been?  

While blogging and social media has to play a role in my writing goals, it will have a lighter touch in 2020.  If these posts help or interest other people, I see it as “worth it,” but I can’t say this style of writing is a “passion" of mine.

I kept making new goals for myself as the year went on.  Some of that was beneficial and some of it was a time waste under the guise of “being efficient.”  There were days  that planning took the place of “doing”—so not the goal of making plans.  As this new year rolls in, I plan to compromise with the person who wants to plan vs the person who wants to do work.  More on that in 2020 goals though.  

Overall, I think I had a powerful 2019, even if it wasn’t everything I wanted.  How did your year go?  What was a major accomplishment for you?  What was a major failing?  What are your plans for 2020?

Not sure how to create good yearly plans?  Try my post that helps break down goal planning.  Or try a post I have exploring Habitica and how it can help you meet your goals. 

Curious about my my 2020 goals, check out this post!  Wondering how I track my goals?  I've written more here.

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Garden Gnomes and Other Evils

Emma, Jessica, and Kyle.  Photo taken by Elena Lewis.


It scared me to go to my great grandmother’s house.  Her home was clean and silent, which unnerved me, but the true terror awaited me in her gardens.  She had lush vibrant flowers I enjoyed exploring, but waiting in those flower beds was something old and malevolent.

Garden gnomes.

Before Travelosity, before Gnomeo and Juliet, and before R. L. Stine, I knew the true depth of depravity in these ceramic figurines.  I’ve always suspected figurines with humaniod forms, but unlike my dolls or horses, these gnomes were taller than me and had small squinty eyes, pointy ears and hats, and it was always pointing and laughing with its white teeth.  What was so funny and why did the thing need teeth?  It was alive and coming to get me.

When my great grandmother passed, my mother brought the gnomes home and put them in our gardens.

Seems simple as an adult, but as a child these gnomes materializing was a nightmare.  One morning my home was free and then our gardens were contaminated with the spectral evil I knew they held in their stone hearts.  All this time my great grandma had protected me from them, appeasing them and keeping them on her lawn, but with her gone, they were here and going to kill me!

I wasn’t going down without a fight, though.  I gathered my sister and brother and we launched a full war campaign against the ugly invaders.  We threw rocks at them.

When they didn’t retaliate, we got bolder.  My sister and brother would load up in the peddler car and Id ram them into the gnome, hoping to knock it down.  They would flail their arms and scream, stuck staring at the killer’s dead eyes. I fled from the scene screaming how it would get us.  They would remember how to use the peddle car doors and escape the staring contest.  We spent hours roping the car away from the gnome and start the process again.  Slowly, the thing crumbled. Sweet victory.

Except, my mother loved her great grandmother’s gnomes.  She did not understand why it deteriorated—could it be acid rain?—but she would preserve them.  While we napped, she would glue the gnomes back together.

Words can not express the doom we felt when we woke from nap time to find the garden gnome whole again.  Before, there’d been a chance the gnome wasnt a living creature— I was known to have a wild imagination—but after the gnome regenerated?  And if there’d been a chance for peace between gnomes and children, it was long gone.  How could it want anything but our demise after all the times we’d torn it down?  It was him or us and he seemed poised to win.

But how does this gnome saga end?  Eventually our nightmares built and my mother learned about our campaign against garden gnomes and our all amorphous childhood fears of stone golems coming to life in the night and “getting us.”  She laughed.  We all laugh about it now.

Except I also tear up when I tell this story, because terror that bone deep marks a person.

What does this have to do with “Follow Me: Tattered Veils”?  My battle with garden gnomes went on for months.  For a child this was a brutal war of attrition.  Seasons changed and our enemy remained laughing and menacing.  I had the stamina as a child to face this horror.  My capacity to stare down all that terrifies me grew as I’ve aged.  Unshaped consequences that made me quake as a youth still live in dark corners of my mind just outside my ability to grasp.  Linger with me and face the unnamed possibility.

And ask: if a sheltered innocent child could inspire months of imaginative nightmares, what might a more worldly adult produce?

Like this post and want more?  Check out here where I reminisce over that time in our lives where we still believe in Santa. Or look at the terror a closet monster can add to one's childhood here.

Like this, there's a whole series!  Check out  Remember the Magic of Santa? and Closet Monsters: Gone too Far? for more childhood stories. ^_^

Looking for more posts about the writing and publishing process?  Check out more posts on my novel publication process: Going Through Copy Edits1st Daft vs 2nd Draft, Goal Planning: Getting Through the First Draft, My Character Looks Nothing Like My MCCover Art: Turth in Advertising, and Post Book Launch: Reflections.  

Want to know more about my novel?   Check out my series where I find similarities between my novel and other popular media.  Hopefully it gives you a better idea whether there are elements in my book you may enjoy.  Lost Girl ComparisonAmerican Gods Comparison, and The O.A. Comparison.

MY BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT AMAZON!!!  Please go look at "Follow Me: Tattered Veils" and see if it might be a story that interests you.

Want more information?  Check out my website jessicadonegan.com and subscribe for updates.

Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Closet Monsters: Gone Too Far?

Jessica, Emma, Maurice, and Kyle going on a floom ride.  Photo taken by Elena Lewis.


Remember when the closet monster was a real prospect?  There are many varieties of the beloved creature.

First is the tidy child’s monster.  Their closet door presses shut, but somehow in the shadowed night, the door looms like a dark doorway, waiting for brave children to traverse to a realm of unspeakable horror.  

Next is the messy kid’s monster.  They shove their toys into the closet at the last minute, and the door never quite closes.  Frustrating in the day when they try to convince their guardians the room is clean and can they please go out and play.  At night, the door gapes open, a toothless maw.  The dark beyond is bottomless, any evil could await them.  

Third is the run down home’s monster.  This closet door never fully shuts.  Maybe the hinge isn’t lined up or maybe the door lost its latch.  No one cares about the why.  These children go to bed with a closed closet door, secure in their knowledge that nothing will harm them and wake up for water or to use the restroom, to an open door.  They race for the light and throw the switch like a medic to a defibrillator.  The world is incandescent, but it’s too late.  Something old and terrible lingers.  No light or company will ever make what crawled out of the closet go back in.  Creaky floorboards are its footsteps, drafty windows become its breath.  Whatever that thing is, it’s living in your house now, and there’s no way to exorcise it.  

The closet monster fascinated me.  How did it creep in at night and why did so many children assume it fled in the morning?  Does light hurt its skin like a vampire?  Does it sleep during the day like a bat?

And what did the monster want?  Was he guarding something on the other side of the darkness?  Did he eat socks, is that why I could never find matching pairs?

“Oh no,” my uncle told me, “he just wants to get you.”  

“Get me?” I asked. 

“Yeah you know, take kids.  He got my younger brother,” he said.

No you’re the youngest brother!  Everyone says so,” I said. 

My uncle shrugged. 

“Yeah, now I am,” he said with a wink.

My siblings and I were hooked.  Yes, the closet monster lived in everyone’s home, but my grandparents' home, became its main den.  When we were there, we hunted it in cupboards, basements, and closets.  Why, because there was a missing uncle we might save.  Even if that uncle was long gone, we could at least “get” the monster back and keep it from ever taking another child.  Bring the fight to its home and all those great metaphors.  As eldest, I was good at rallying the younger ones to a worthy campaign.

And my uncle played his part.  He’d hide in basements and closets waiting for us and then roar and grab us.  We’d charge the monster and hit it or kick at it and he’d let the trapped sibling go and we’d run out, believing we’d narrowly escaped the monster’s clutches.  

As I grew older, and began to understand the game we were playing, I added new rules to keep my siblings believing for longer.  We would use flashlights and “light” formations to keep the monster back.  In reality, my uncle couldn’t sneak up on us if we all used our flashlights together, but the reasoning I gave was that the monster’s eyes were photo-sensitive.  The light blinded it, giving us time to move past it.  

When one of my siblings would doubt the closet monster’s existence, I’d dare them to go in alone to the closet.  There in the dark my uncle would shake clothes hangers and growl, stomping closer and further away.  The terrified sibling would go to the door and try to open it, only to find it stuck closed (I was barricading the door).  

They’d scream and plead for help and I’d say things like: 

“It’s sealed the doors, I can‘t open them!  I think it’s mad you don’t believe!  Quick say you believe in it before it gets you, maybe then the door will open!  

My sister or brother always agreed. 

I believe, I know you‘re real, I’m sorry, please!

And I’d let them out.  We’d go eat cake, because sweet things help you recover and then we’d play in the sprinkler, because the monster can’t get you outside.  It hates fresh air.   

So how do I capture this dark childish terror for adult readers in Follow Me: Tattered Veils?”  Instead of using an uncle to help make the monsters more real, I use old myths.  Stories told and retold in many time periods with different players but the same over reaching themes.  Hear the same story enough but different people and anyone will wonder— is this real?

And I use humanity’s limited scope of empathy.  I terrified my siblings, not just with stories of monsters, but actions that validated those fears.  I thought nothing of this fun game, but there was casual cruelty in the act.  We all carry a thoughtless capacity to scar each other.

Lastly, I use the closet monster himself.  Because the fathomless darkness where all kinds of good or evil could spawn lives in my heart and I think it might live in your heart too.  Don’t we all have a certain wardrobe we think might take us to Narnia or a certain set of words we think will release Bloody Mary?  “Follow Me: Tattered Veils” lives in a world where we investigate the wardrobe or we say the right words.  The roads to different possibilities open and I hope you’ll walk one of them with me.  

Like this, there's a whole series!  Check out  Remember the Magic of Santa? and Garden Gnomes and other Evils for more childhood stories. ^_^

Looking for more posts about the writing and publishing process?  Check out more posts on my novel publication process: Going Through Copy Edits1st Daft vs 2nd Draft, Goal Planning: Getting Through the First Draft, My Character Looks Nothing Like My MCCover Art: Turth in Advertising, and Post Book Launch: Reflections.  

Want to know more about my novel?   Check out my series where I find similarities between my novel and other popular media.  Hopefully it gives you a better idea whether there are elements in my book you may enjoy.  Lost Girl ComparisonAmerican Gods Comparison, and The O.A. Comparison.

MY BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT AMAZON!!!  Please go look at "Follow Me: Tattered Veils" and see if it might be a story that interests you.

Want more information?  Check out my website jessicadonegan.com and subscribe for updates.

Wednesday, December 4, 2019

Remember the Magic of Santa?

Kyle, Emma, and Jessica, smiling over a home made Christmas tree cake.  Photo taken by Elena Lewis.  I took a picture of a picture to add to this story.


I believed in Santa until I was 13.  Too long, I know.

So was I just a gullible kid?  Well yes, but it was more than naivety.  I kept believing in Santa because I liked how it felt to believe in him.  The child like wonder and sense of possibility made me feel special.

As a quiet, nervous child (and adult) I spend a lot of time trying not to be noticed.  Attention= …bad things.  But lack of attention has its own frustrations.  I spent a long time watching children get credit for deeds I did every day without a hint of recognition.  Other children and adults may never see me, but Santa did.  He is always watching, and I was on his good list, so someone somewhere knew about all my hard work and valued it.

And those bad kids that seemed to get away with every cruel thing.  You know the ones with ugly smiles, taunting words, and a thoughtless push.  Well, they’d get coal.  Something to say, “I know what you did and I know deep down, you aren’t good.”

As I aged, there were doubts, but I wanted Santa, so I created stories and games that helped preserve him for me and my siblings past the natural expiration date such belief holds.

We did normal things, like write letters to Santa or stay up late and try to catch him in the act.

One year we came home to plastic reindeer toys under our pillows and our parents said “It’s so late, Santa must have stopped by, realized you weren’t home, and left this to warn you you needed to be in bed by the time he stops by again if you want Christmas presents.”

I think my parents wanted us to go to sleep quick, but this visit had the opposite effect on me.  I was alive with possibility.  How does Santa map his trip?  Does he stop by the same time each year?  Why couldn’t he leave the toys for us if we were not home?  The stories!

That year I added to our childish Santa myth.  We stayed up late, but in our room with the lights off.  Each bump and shake of our old house was Santa and the reindeer on the roof.  Did he know we were home but not asleep yet?  Was he waiting for us to get in bed and close our eyes?

Next year I instigated the “Santa’s Helper” program.  All three of us became “elves in training” without own special sleigh bells.  The point of the program was to spread cheer and good will through selfless deeds like reaching out to charities, being considerate to each other, and looking for kids less fortunate to do something kind for them.  The secret part of the club involved a bunch of secret missions from Santa we had to fulfill, and different signs we were closer to our goal of “elf.”  I claimed a secret communication with Santa through “phone calls” and “notes.”

How did me faking a secret agent like program where Santa was the “Charlie” of our “Charlie’s Angels” like group keep my belief in Santa?  As the person who made it all up, I should know it’s fake right?  But that’s the beauty of a child’s brain.  I could be aware both that I was making it all up and also believe there is a Santa and I was doing his work.

My goal as an Urban Fantasy writer is to bring you back to that time when Santa could have been real.  An adult “Santa’s Helper” club.

How do I manage that?

In “Follow Me: Tattered Veils” ground the story with a strong sense of place.  You can visit all the locations mentioned in Huntsville, Alabama.  All lies need truth in them right?

But I’m dedicated to the experience.  I commit to a sense of seasonal time too.  “Follow Me: Tattered Veils” begins in January and ends on Halloween.  As seasons change and time passes, I reference temperature, weather, and even which flowers bloom. Where and when the characters remain constant so readers feel confident in their sense of place.

My characters are everyday humans filled with flaws Joe and Jane everyman has.  They struggle with money, job satisfaction, friendships, and addictions.  Not a major or minor character stands without a rounded soul, capable of being on Santa’s “naughty or nice list.”

I introduce more fantastic elements gradually.  It starts with religion, an element of magic many adults accept, but I build from there to less “real” experiences.

I hope by the end of the journey your sense of reality undergoes changes and you’re left wondering.  Is there more in this world than the mundane?  Could Santa or something like him be real and is he always lurking just beyond our perception?

Like this, there's a whole series!  Check out  Closet Monsters: Gone too Far?and Garden Gnomes and other Evils for more childhood stories. ^_^

Looking for more posts about the writing and publishing process?  Check out more posts on my novel publication process: Going Through Copy Edits1st Daft vs 2nd Draft, Goal Planning: Getting Through the First Draft, My Character Looks Nothing Like My MCCover Art: Turth in Advertising, and Post Book Launch: Reflections.  

Want to know more about my novel?   Check out my series where I find similarities between my novel and other popular media.  Hopefully it gives you a better idea whether there are elements in my book you may enjoy.  Lost Girl ComparisonAmerican Gods Comparison, and The O.A. Comparison.

MY BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT AMAZON!!!  Please go look at "Follow Me: Tattered Veils" and see if it might be a story that interests you.

Want more information?  Check out my website jessicadonegan.com and subscribe for updates.