Posted in A Day in the Life, books, Lane is Writing, PLAYING ALL THE ANGLES, The Book, the submission process

Banner Day!


It is a banner day all around! The best news is that my mother is being released from the hospital today, having had a successful surgery, and excellent recovery. She’ll be back to top form in no time.

The other good news is that I sold the romance novel! I can’t share too much right now, other than the title, PLAYING ALL THE ANGLES, but I am thrilled. I’d had word from the publisher several weeks ago, that I should have an answer within the week, but hadn’t heard back from them. Yesterday, sleep deprivation and stress broke down my “don’t bother the nice people” mentality, and I contacted them. I had a response within the hour, and I was sure it meant a rejection was on the way. I had steeled myself for it, so when I started reading the email from the managing editor this morning, I had to read it three times before I was convinced it wasn’t dyslexia playing tricks on me.

Now, here is the importance of objective, impartial readers: Nicole and I started this story a decade ago. While I was shopping TIARA TROUBLE, I found a piece of the romance file, and started working on it again. I rewrote a good deal, added a new opening, and finished it off, then sent out a few queries.

Meanwhile, I won a critique spot on one of openings on Miss Snark’s First Victim, and based on the commentary there, I did another harsh edit, and went through with the critique suggestions/questions in mind. I sent off the next submission and…sold it! –If you are a writer, I highly suggest Miss Snark’s site. You can learn a lot from reading the critiques, and get an idea of what is working well for people. You also have lottery style opportunities to share your work with some great agents.–

I really credit that critique commentary for helping me streamline and bring some clarity to a story with three plotlines and a lot of characters. I think it’s a pretty decent stab at a Judith Krantzian style of melodramatic romance.

Right this second, I am typing from my iPad in Mom’s hospital room. We’re waiting for her release. She’s napping, and I am freezing because the a/c is set at 60. But, I’m very, very happy. Very.

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Posted in A Day in the Life, Counting Blessings, Cozy Cat Press, Destinee Faith Miller Mystery, Family, Friends of Mine, Lane is Writing, Marketing the BOok

YOU Light Up My Life


Thank you for making my dream come true.  Without you, I wouldn't have needed to sign any books!
Thank you for making my dream come true. Without you, I wouldn’t have needed to sign any books!

Today was a dream come true, and I owe that entirely to the kindness and love of friends and family.  I walked in to Barnes & Noble and set up my table with 25 books, and I left with no books.  22 had sold, and 3 were going on an end-cap to sell later.  My wonderful, wonderful People had come in and made me look like I was a New York Times Best Selling Author.  By the time I was packing up to leave, my table was gloriously bare.

YOU, friends and family, made this event a success, and I don’t know how to thank you all other than to just keep telling everyone how amazing you are.

The tiaras were a big hit, and I was pretty excited when the book sellers wanted to wear them, too.  I think everyone could use a little sparkle.  B even wore one for a split second, but refused to be photographed.

I think the biggest hit for me was the official B&N poster with my big face on it.  As soon as the event was over, I walked right next door to the Michael’s there and headed back to the framing section.  In two weeks, I’ll have an official B&N poster with my big face on it to hang somewhere in my house.  Where, I have no idea.  I can’t very well hang it over the fireplace.  I have to at least pretend to have some modesty and humility about me.

Next week is the Boston Book Festival, then the book signing at my alma mater, the University of Texas at Arlington, and then I’ll be going on blog tours.  I’ve been prepping interviews and guest posts for those, and I hope you’re going to enjoy reading what I’ve had to say.  I’m trying to make sure there is something new for you to read at every stop, and making sure you haven’t read it here first.  That’s not easy!  I always want to share it with you first.

Once all that is done, it’s nose to the grindstone to finish MISS MAYHEM, and then I need to get to work on Destinee’s final book in the series.  I’ve already decided she’s going to have some competition from Texas in book 3.  I’ll keep you posted.  Meanwhile…

Official B&N sign with my big face on it. Thank you, Linda, for taking these photos.
Official B&N sign with my big face on it.
Thank you, Linda, for taking these photos.

 

 

Posted in A Day in the Life, Cozy Cat Press, Destinee Faith Miller Mystery, Marketing the BOok, Tiara Trouble

Sparkle, Baby!


Maybe the best part of writing a series set in the pageant world is that now when I watch Toddlers & Tiaras, I can call it research.  No more guilty pleasure!  It’s research.  It’s for work, y’all.

Maybe the worst part of watching Toddlers & Tiaras is how terribly I feel for some of the children, who are going to grow up to need real therapy.  Not pretend therapy, but reconstructive help to teach them how to feel good about themselves so that they can function beyond just, “Sparkle, Baby!”  No, the worst part is knowing I am watching child abuse for entertainment.  Research.  Researtainment.

Yesterday, I watched an episode with three great sets of parents, and it was as unusual as it was delightful.  The kids were all happy, well-behaved, and seemed quite well-adjusted.  The worst thing the editors could do with the material was to make one mother out to look overly proud of her daughter.  My mother would tell you that there is no such thing as overly proud of your daughter.

Today, I watched a piece of an episode with a mother who made me want to reach through the screen and yank her bald.  The other featured mother was great, and her daughter gave the line of the show.

While she was being interviewed, the little girl talked about raising pigs on their farm.  She said, “We butcher ’em.  Sometimes I’m sad to lose a pig.  …then I’m happy when it tastes good.”  Deadpan delivery.  Didn’t crack a smile.  Kid after my own heart.  BACON!

Meanwhile, I saw my first review from someone I don’t know–a reviewer who has my book as part of an upcoming blog tour.  She gave me 5 stars and I have been squirming happily over it since yesterday.  The first line read, “Ms. Buckman may never be accused of writing great literature,” and went on to glow.  I read that first part before I saw how many stars had been rated, and my jaw dropped.  And I laughed.  Because it is true.  Then, I read the rest of the review and laughed even harder because it was pretty awesome.  I want it written into my will that it is part of my obituary.  “Lane was never accused of writing great literature, but–”

As people who don’t know me, and therefore do not feel obligated to protect my feelings, read the book and enjoy it, I am elated.  When people say they have laughed, I am over the moon.  I love laughing, and I love when I get to be part of making someone else laugh.

So, if you’re local and you’d like to see me laughing in person, join me on October 12, at the Barnes & Noble in Lewisville, TX.  That link takes you to my author event page.  You probably can’t hear the high pitched giggle that accompanies me typing, “my author event page,” but your dog can.  I apologize.

Speechless. Breathless.  Grateful.
Speechless. Breathless. Grateful.
Posted in 2the9s, A Day in the Life, Explaining the Strange Behavior, Family, Thor

Photogenic. Photogenetic.


hockaday   It was 6th Grade, and I insisted upon doing my own hair for picture day–the oxford and blazer were part of the uniform, but the hair?  All mine.  I was arguing with my mother about it out the door, and I know what Lane-has-been-crying face looks like–that’s it.  I remember standing in line for my picture and realizing that all the other girls, from the neck up, looked like they’d been styled for a wedding.  From the neck down, we looked like a Green and White episode of Facts of Life the Middle School Years. One of the teachers asked me if my mother had forgotten it was picture day.  The photographer pulled out a comb and made a tent flap in my bangs so that my eyes would show.  I felt a sting of regret.  My mother had been right.  I should have let her fix my hair.  But, I wasn’t going down like that.  Oh no.  I held my wooby, little head high and said I meant to look that way, and that I liked it.  Pride.  Proud.  Defiant. When the pictures came home, my mother was grim.   It was the only time in my life that she ever asked for retakes.  She called the school and asked for retakes. For what it’s worth, I look back on the day with pride.  Still proud.  Still defiant.  I was twelve, and I had hot rollers.  Don’t give a kid hot rollers, if you don’t want her to use them. It’s also funny how dark the picture is.  My hair looks auburn, and my blazer looks black.  My hair was strawberry blonde, and my blazer was a medium green. Today is picture day at Thor’s school.  Last night, after telling me he’d like me to go buy him a black suit, white shirt, and fancy tie to wear (far too late in the day to even think of making that happen), and after going through several mental wardrobe changes until we got down to shorts and a polo shirt, he woke up asking for a tie.  He had to wear a tie. It didn’t matter that it didn’t match.  It didn’t matter that it was too long.  It didn’t matter that he was wearing it with a polo shirt.  He. had. to. wear. a. tie. I put one of B’s ties on him, and it was like turning on the Christmas lights.  That kid was proud.  Delighted. He stood in front of the mirror for a long time, declared himself very cool, wetted down and tamed his own cowlick, then went to find his shoes. Of all the shoes he could choose, he came out of his room with his plaid Vans.  Proud.  Delighted. I did point out the problem with mixing a white, blue, and pink striped shirt, with a navy, gold, and olive dotted tie, and red, white, and blue plaid shoes.  He said, “I think I look cool.”  I thought, “He’s watched too much Doctor Who.”  I said, “You are cool.”  He said, “You need to call me Mr. B because of the tie.”  I said, “All right, Mr. B, grab your backpack and let’s go.  Your close-up awaits you.” When he looks back at today’s picture in 30 years, I want him to be able to say, “That was such a great morning.” It’s his school picture.  He should be happy.  We’ll be going to buy him a tie that fits. thorsday1 He does look cool.

Posted in 2the9s, A Day in the Life, Explaining the Strange Behavior, Family, Thor

hockaday

 

It was 6th Grade, and I insisted upon doing my own hair for picture day–the oxford and blazer were part of the uniform, but the hair?  All mine.  I was arguing with my mother about it out the door, and I know what Lane-has-been-crying face looks like–that’s it.  I remember standing in line for my picture and realizing that all the other girls, from the neck up, looked like they’d been styled for a wedding.  From the neck down, we looked like a Green and White episode of Facts of Life the Middle School Years.

One of the teachers asked me if my mother had forgotten it was picture day.  The photographer pulled out a comb and made a tent flap in my bangs so that my eyes would show.  I felt a sting of regret.  My mother had been right.  I should have let her fix my hair.  But, I wasn’t going down like that.  Oh no.  I held my wooby, little head high and said I meant to look that way, and that I liked it.  Pride.  Proud.  Defiant.

When the pictures came home, my mother was grim.   It was the only time in my life that she ever asked for retakes.  She called the school and asked for retakes.

For what it’s worth, I look back on the day with pride.  Still proud.  Still defiant.  I was twelve, and I had hot rollers.  Don’t give a kid hot rollers, if you don’t want her to use them.

It’s also funny how dark the picture is.  My hair looks auburn, and my blazer looks black.  My hair was strawberry blonde, and my blazer was a medium green.

Today is picture day at Thor’s school.  Last night, after telling me he’d like me to go buy him a black suit, white shirt, and fancy tie to wear (far too late in the day to even think of making that happen), and after going through several mental wardrobe changes until we got down to shorts and a polo shirt, he woke up asking for a tie.  He had to wear a tie.

It didn’t matter that it didn’t match.  It didn’t matter that it was too long.  It didn’t matter that he was wearing it with a polo shirt.  He. had. to. wear. a. tie.

I put one of B’s ties on him, and it was like turning on the Christmas lights.  That kid was proud.  Delighted.

He stood in front of the mirror for a long time, declared himself very cool, wetted down and tamed his own cowlick, then went to find his shoes.

Of all the shoes he could choose, he came out of his room with his plaid Vans.  Proud.  Delighted.

I did point out the problem with mixing a white, blue, and pink striped shirt, with a navy, gold, and olive dotted tie, and red, white, and blue plaid shoes.  He said, “I think I look cool.”  I thought, “He’s watched too much Doctor Who.”  I said, “You are cool.”  He said, “You need to call me Mr. B because of the tie.”  I said, “All right, Mr. B, grab your backpack and let’s go.  Your close-up awaits you.”

When he looks back at today’s picture in 30 years, I want him to be able to say, “That was such a great morning.”

It’s his school picture.  He should be happy.  We’ll be going to buy him a tie that fits.

thorsday1

He does look cool.