My year started out this way:
Highlight of every Sunday night was visiting the New York State Department of Labor web site to claim unemployment benefits.
Went for lots of looooooong walks.
During the course of which...the muse was fully exercised. (Not to mention exorcised.)
Finished the full-length book of my heart at long last. Totally in love with the hero. Started writing the sequel, the next brother's story. In love with him too.
The book of my heart began meeting its water-torture-fate-worse-than-death. Drip-Drip-Drip-Teeth-Kick-Repeat.
Started writing a little Halloweeny story that turned into a paranormal novella, Dream Voyager. Totally fell in love with the hero, Rafe.
Started a blog with the same name. (Dream Voyagers, not Rafe.)
Finished Dream Voyager and sent it out into the wide world.
Started a Regency novella, entitled Healing Hearts. Totally fell in love with the hero, a viscount and Peninsula War veteran named Adam.
Tried my hand at copyediting. (Failed miserably, since I wanted to rewrite, like, everything. Instead of, you know, just insert/delete commas.)
Finished Healing Hearts, the Regency novella and sent it out into the wide world.
Temporarily abandoned the sequel to the doomed book of my heart and started writing a romantic suspense, Cole in Her Stocking. Totally fell in love with the hero: Cole. (Well, you know, duh. Did you really think I spelled that badly?)
Became president of my RWA chapter.
Returned to work at the occupation for which I actually have been schooled and trained.
Put in looooooooong hours.
No more walking.
Stopped going to meetings of my longtime critique group.
Contracted Healing Hearts with Carina Press.
Acquired a nom de plume. (Which occasionally feels more like a nom de guerre.) Oh, what? You thought it said Taryn Kincaid on my birth certificate?
Was asked by another publisher to heat up the already steamy Dream Voyager.
Acquired my wonderful, funny, knowledgable, patient Wild Rose Press editor who guided me through the scarlet world of writing erotic romance.
Was asked to change Rafe's name. Oh, okay. Eventually settled on Ryck. In hindsight, Ryck Van Winkle works much, much better! (And I'm still totally in love with him.)
Contracted Dream Voyager, now an erotic paranormal novella entitled Sleepy Hollow Dreams, to The Wild Rose Press.
(So much for the blog!)
Acquired my wonderful Carina Press editor who, like Mark Twain, knows "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug."
Got involved with publishers' loops, writers' loops, blogs-blogs-and-more-blogs.
Also, Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads. (What else ya got?)
Got cover art for Sleepy Hollow Dreams and squeeeeed all over the place.
Saw Sleepy Hollow Dreams published! (Rushed out in time for Halloween.)
Resigned the presidency of my RWA chapter. (The chapter does not seem fully cognizant of this fact.)
Got cover art for Healing Hearts. More squeeeeeeeeing. Well? Isn't it pretty?
Saw first non-friend Goodreads rating of Sleepy Hollow Dreams and was perplexed, since there was no comment. Rater "friended" me.
Saw first non-friend review of Sleepy Hollow Dreams and was confused by the reviewer's confusion.
Surprised, pleased, thrilled, shocked when someone says they loved Sleepy Hollow Dreams. Nervous when they are silent.
Decided to own Brendan Behan's notion that "there is no such thing as bad publicity except your own obituary."
Lost some longtime real-life friends. Reconnected with others. Acquired some shiny new internet friends. Had hopes raised, then dashed, then raised, then dashed. Then raised.
The good, the bad, the ugly, the serendipitous.
Spent much of the year running around like a headless chicken.
Healing Hearts comes out in February.
And also for next year: Will try to do better.
Will try to have a plan.
Job One: Finish Cole in Her Stocking.