Blog

Slumps

So in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m in a bit of a writing AND reading AND marketing slump.

Right now, what I wish I could do is give you some great advice about how I conquered it. But I’m failing to conquer it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve edited a chapter of my third book in the Changing Tides series here and there. I’ve gotten words on the page in short story format for an adult audience. But I haven’t done any real work on marketing, and I’ve been lackluster when it comes to working on my TBR. Usually, I can read a YA fantasy in a sitting. Recently, I’ve been lucky to get a chapter in here or there.

Which leads me to a point. Writing and reading are inseparable. Writers are readers first, and if you’re not reading, it’s very likely you’re not writing. Reading is how, at least for me and many in my writing circles, we replenish our creative wells. The first thing I say to any aspiring writer or author is: “Read. Read diversely and frequently. Read everything you can get your hands on. In your genre and out of it.”

When I’m not reading, I’m almost always not writing either. When I’m not writing, it’s hard to market, because some of the enthusiasm I have for my own work is lost. I forget what it’s like to be an author. Maybe it’s the hum-drum of the 9-5, maybe it’s the trying to reestablish a social life, maybe it’s being caught up in emotionally exhausting friend and relationship drama, maybe it’s because of the slight worry I have about money right now, but whatever it is that’s preventing me from reading has to be stamped out.

With reading, will come the writing. I’m sure of it.

Anyone have any advice for reading and writing slumps? I’d love to hear it!

❤ Always,

Aimee

21268499_10104941611013738_349940602_n

Dealer in Wanting

Hi all! I know it’s been awhile since I last posted, and I apologize that this blog has been lacking all things writing and updates on my fantasy work lately. I’ve been extremely busy with my 9-5 as well as working on getting The King’s Blade ready to query hopefully this winter. That said, I’ve been doing some short story writing on the side I thought I’d share with you. As per usual with my short work, this story is not fantasy and is intended for an adult audience. Appropriate trigger warnings follow.


Trigger Warnings: The following short story is 1,685 words and contains content revolving around rape, domestic violence, touch aversion, and emotional abuse. It contains mild sexual content, some profanity, and other adult content and themes. Please read cautiously.

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental or fictionalized.


Dealer in Wanting

In the split second before he kisses her, she thinks she shouldn’t let him. Every warning sign and red flag races through her mind. Every tick against him—from his lack of faith, to his arrogance, to his disrespect of women—barrels into her.

The human brain has over 100 billion neurons, each firing about 200 times per second. Every time one fires, 1,000 other neurons receive that information, too. Meaning twenty million billion bits of information move through one’s brain every second.

Plenty of time for a decision to be made before he reaches in. More than plenty.

In hindsight, when she’s alone, clutching her sheets that still smell like him—cinnamon, why do they always smell like cinnamon?—she’ll slow that split second down and play it on repeat. Then, she’ll know a decision was made. Days later, she’ll watch herself make it. She’ll feel with visceral clarity his hand on her thigh. See the intensity sparking in his hazel eyes. Sense the predator lurking behind them. She’ll admire the brush of his long, light brown eyelashes against his cheeks. Hear her blood racing in her ears. Taste the cigarette smoke on her wetting tongue. Feel the churning of her stomach as her mind does battle with her desire.

She wants this boy who is all wrong. Wants him with a desperation that transcends her best reasoning. She wants him to kiss her, wants him to want her. Because her greatest sin is her greatest desire: She wants to be wanted. By him. By anyone.

So it’s not surprising that when she senses his desire, she reaches forward to meet him halfway. It’s not surprising that the whiskey on his breath tastes like a thousand bad decisions, and her brain no longer devotes a single neuron to caring.

Her animal brain has control now, and the only things those twenty million billion bits of information want to know is where are his hands and his tongue and his teeth. Someone wants her. Even if it’s only right now. Even if it’ll hurt tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. All she cares about is now.

Being wanted is like a drug, and some people deal it out the same way others deal pills. He’s one of them—one of these dealers in wanting—and she knows it. She knew it hours before he reached in. She knew it the moment he spoke of emotional unavailability with pride. She knew it when he said she wasn’t like the other girls. She knew it when he tried to argue with her over the wage gap. She knew it, and she didn’t care, because he kept feeding her more of the drug.

But the animal brain controls more than lust, and in her, there is a beast more difficult to deal with. Its name is fear, the most primal of all emotions.

Soon, those 100 billion neurons are diverted. What started as a pleasant trip warps. Her heart still pounds, but for a different reason. Now, fear drives her emotions.

His weight is heavy—stifling. He’s too rough with his biting. She sucks in a breath through her teeth that he mistakes for a groan, or maybe doesn’t. He bites harder.

Her vision spots as his hands shift to her hips. He keeps kissing her, but she can no longer taste him: not the cigarettes, or the whiskey, or the bad decisions. She shifts her gaze to the left, toward the open window. Blinding white dots dart across her line of sight though it’s pitch black outside. Her throat closes. In a moment, she’ll lose consciousness.

In hindsight, she wonders if he would’ve noticed. Then, there was no space for philosophical ruminations. All that existed was 100 billion neurons firing at 200 times per second with fear lancing through every single one.

To be fair, the fear wasn’t put there by this handsome, hazel-eyed boy who deals in wanting. Not really.

Fear is an ancient thing, like a sleeping dragon who awakens at the sight of gold. And her fear has existed for as long as she has.

It was put there by another weight on top of her when she was sixteen. One that didn’t stop when she froze and her vision blurred. One that whispered to her that no one would want her now. It was reinforced by the next person who did want her, at eighteen, a coke dealer who liked to choke her during sex and asked her to pretend she was being raped. It wasn’t hard to comply. It required no imagination.

The fear was put there by the catcalling and the strangers who groped her at bars. It was put there by every violence committed against her in the name of “love” and “beauty.” It was put there when she was shoved and slapped and kicked and grabbed. It was conveyed by every touch that came without her permission.

Over and over, the fear was put into her and reinforced. The sleeping dragon awoken again and again, his forked tongue flicking as he hissed, “Your body isn’t yours. It belongs to everyone and no one. Except you. Never you. Never yours.”

So it’s not surprising when she starts to black out as the hazel-eyed boy kisses her.

What is surprising, however, is that even one of those 100 billion neurons manages to fire in her defense. To cry out in protest. To fight the fear pouring from the animal brain and its ancient history.

But one neuron does stand up, signaling to 1,000 others. Soon, her throat opens. She grabs his hands and pull them from her hips. She twists her lips away from his. She can taste again—cigarettes, and whiskey, and bad decisions. In a whisper, she tells him they should take it easy. They should. As if it’s a decision for them both. As if her body doesn’t simply belong to anyone bigger and stronger than her. As if it belongs to her. As if the dragon can be slain by one sub-microscopic, resilient neuron. By one neuron inside of one girl who wants to belong to herself. As if that matters.

The hazel-eyed boy sits up. Their legs are still wrapped together though she’s not sure how they got that way in the first place. He blinks, and some of the intensity leaves his gaze. Singular focus is replaced by the muddy softness of inebriation. Her vision clears. Her heart slows. The weight—physical and emotional—is lifted. “How easy do you want to take it?” he asks.

Another second passes. Another twenty million billion bits of information is tossed around her mind, most of it confused. The hazel-eyed boy has asked her this question as though she has an intrinsic right to answer it. As though he understands that her body belongs to her and not him. As though there is no truth in the world other than this: What is attached to us is ours and no one else’s.

This has never been her truth, but it seems it has always been his. And in that moment of confusion, she loves him like she’s never loved anyone else. The dealer of wanting has laced his product. He’s provided her with the only thing she truly wants: ownership over her body.

True, others have given this to her. But not with such simple grace. Not when the animal brain was at fever pitch. Not when she was so cognizant of her own desires.

This truth of him, of his reality, hits her like a lightning strike, and she is lost. There’s no going back. There likely never was. He won her before he even walked inside. Her body was his, because she knew he wanted it, and it never belonged to her anyway. Her heart, though, is ceded when he toys with refusing her body.

Soon, she will realize he wants neither, at least not long term. But tonight, she is his.

With a strength she often forgets, she tells him she isn’t interested in one-night stands. She tells him that if his intention is to ghost, she doesn’t want to go any further. She tells him this as if not going any further is an option. He might think it is. But it’s a lie. Before, fear would have compelled her forward. Now, wanting does. Either way, this night was destined to have only one end, no matter what brave words might issue from her.

He untangles their legs with a vehemence that borders on masterful. He cannot believe she would think so low of him, he proclaims with a lovely indignity that makes her breath hitch in her chest. A beautiful performance.

She rushes to fix what she’s broken, but all that falls from her lips is a weak, simple truth. “I don’t know you.”

Indignation sparks like arrogance in his marvelous hazel eyes as he declares they’ve spent several hours together. His voices lifts into a haughty timbre as he questions why he would spend the time getting to know her if his only intent was to fuck her and leave.

She’s heard this refrain on repeat from man after man after man. Why she bothers with an honest question is beyond her. She never receives an honest answer in return. Yet hope compels her forward. One day, her honesty will be met with honesty. One day.

The obvious answer to his protestations—players know how to play—floats to her tongue, but she bites down on it. In several hours, many centillions upon centillions of bits of information have passed between them. She does know him.

He’s a liar.

But she doesn’t care, because she’s high on laced wanting and willing to accept his lies. So she smiles and pulls his weight back on top of her as she winds her legs around his and kisses him once more.

Tonight, a liar has possession of her heart.

Tomorrow, there will be withdraw that makes her scream and howl and rage.

But tonight, she is high.

New Review of #TheBloodMage

Hi all!

Sorry I haven’t been around! If you’ve read my last two posts you’ll know I’m still struggling with mental health issues as well as trying to find a proper work/life balance. I think I’m getting my head back in the game slowly but surely and hope to come back to regular posts soon!

Because of everything going on I unfortunately didn’t get a newsletter out this month, but the next one will be sure to be action-packed! At least I hope 🙂 If you’d like to sign up  you can do so here.

In the meantime, check out this new review of The Blood Mage by My Life, Stolen by Books.

TheBloodMagePromo

Work-Life Balance

I haven’t posted in 16 days even though 16 days ago I said I was back from my hiatus. As it turns out, I wasn’t.

Work-life balance is a new thing for me to struggle with. Mainly the “balance” part. I’m one of those people who tends to be all in or all out. Right now, as you might have guessed, I’m all out on the work scene. Of course, I’m all in at my 9-5 (bills to pay and all that), but I’ve been neglecting my writing. Not just the blog and the social media presence but actually writing.

Originally, I thought my creative well was dry, but that’s not necessarily it. I’ve done a lot of writing, but it’s been of the journal variety mostly. My mental health hasn’t been good the last month or so (a guy may or may not be involved in some of this), but I’ve also been trying to create relationships with some new friends. For an introvert, that takes a lot of time and emotional energy. Time and energy I would usually devote to writing and/or revising.

I feel a bit lost on my journey. A bit listless. Unfortunately, The King’s Blade didn’t find its way into Pitch Wars and though I was hopeful that if it did, it might put some fire back under my ass, maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I needed a break more than I thought. Maybe I’m not ready to come back. Maybe I need to remember there’s more to life than pumping out books and hiding in my messy apartment and trying to live through my characters. Maybe I need to remember I have to live through myself first to truly breathe life into the characters I create.

Or maybe I’m just making excuses for my lack of get up and go.

Either way, one thing is for sure: This journey ain’t getting any easier.

Work-life balance anyone? Sound off in the comments.

❤ Always,

Aimee

coins-1015125_1920

 

There is Time

Authoring is hard. And those seventeen hour days finally caught up to me.

Here’s some truth: Being an author doesn’t only involve writing and editing. It involves answering emails and posting on social media and writing blogs and marketing. It involves updating your website and keeping track of trends in the market and thinking of innovative ways to sell your work. It involves reading and reading and reading some more, inside and outside of your genre.

And if you work a full time job (like so many of us), that means a lot of late nights and weekend hours. The reality of being an author is much less illustrious than the movies make it out to be. Over 77% of self-published authors make less than $1,000 a year from their writing. For traditional authors, that number is still 53.9% making less than $1,000 a year.

I don’t know about you, but $1,000 a year really isn’t going to pay my bills. Especially considering my rent is $1,200 a month, and I’m single. So I work a full-time job. A vast majority of authors work part-time or full-time or have another income to help out. And at the end of the day, the full-time job has to come before writing. Because I have to eat. And not live on the street.

So I work my 9-5:30 (or later), Monday through Friday, and I write/edit/market/blog/Twitter/Instagram/Facebook during the evenings/into the wee hours of the morning and on the weekends. But that kind of schedule catches up to you.

In my world, things started to pile up. My apartment was a mess. I was ordering out too much because I felt like I had too much to do to go to the grocery store or cook (which increased my expenses). My diet suffered. I drank too much caffeine. My dog got antsy and bored. My social life suffered. I hardly left my apartment. Sleep was something I daydreamed about.

So I promised myself that after I submitted to Pitch Wars I would take a break. Not just from writing, but from everything. From social media, from blogging, even from reading. I needed to recharge my batteries.

At first, the author anxiety almost destroyed my much needed authoring hiatus. For the first few days of said break, I found myself in the presence of my friends without engaging. Instead, I sat in a literal corner silently obsessing over what I had to do. I have a third book in a series to finish revising. I have continuing edits to The King’s Blade to hammer out, because regardless of how it does in Pitch Wars, I’ll be querying soon. I have an idea for a women’s fiction novel that’s itching at me. I have emails to answer. I have reading to do. I have to post on social media to keep my presence up. I have to write a blog. I have to do, do, do.

The “break” didn’t come easy. I had to force myself to take it. But after three or four days, I started to slide into it. There is time became my mantra. It’s okay not to write every day. It’s okay not to read two books a week. It’s okay to leave my phone on the charger. It’s okay to take a day or two to respond to an email. It’s okay to take some time to clean my apartment and go to the grocery store and catch up on Game of Thrones and sit outside with my friends for hours doing nothing but shooting the shit.

We only get one life. Writing is my passion. It’s what I love to do. But when it becomes a chore, I’ve lost something. And that something is the fire, and I need the fire to write.

So writers, as hard as it can be, go ahead and give yourself that break. You don’t need to write every day. There is time.

❤ Always,

Aimee

book-863418_1920

The Wheel Mages is an Award Winner

I’m back! I apologize for the delay in blogging, but I’ve had a whirlwind end of July/beginning of August! I attended the Romance Writers of America Nationals where The Wheel Mages was up for an award through the Young Adult Romance Writers of America chapter (YARWA), and The King’s Blade, which you can read more about here, was submitted to Pitch Wars for consideration, so it’s been a busy few weeks!

But I have news!

The Wheel Mages, my debut high fantasy novel, won third place for YARWA’s Athena Award for Excellence in New Adult Fiction! I’m so humbled to have been part of the competition. And for any romance fans out there, I would definitely recommend the RWA’s Nationals! I didn’t get to stay for the full conference because I had Pitch Wars things to do and the budget didn’t really allow for it, but it looked like a heck of a good time if romance is your jam!

20264835_1548206695240173_1300211349462936169_n

So now that The King’s Blade has been submitted to Pitch Wars, I have three full weeks with no writing deadlines whatsoever, and I’m sort of at a loss of what to do with myself! Since this journey began in January of last year, I’ve always had something on my plate. My biggest goal is to use this time to relax, reboot, and refresh (and catch up on my ridiculously large TBR).

Anyone have any reads they’d recommend?

The Dreaded Bad Review

I’ve been thinking about this post for awhile and have hesitated to write it. The thing is, this is a sensitive topic. It’s sensitive because there’s a line that should exist between authors and reviewers. Reviewers should never feel intimidated or bullied or pressured into giving anything except their honest opinion of a book. As an author, when you ask for an honest review, you should understand that’s what you’re going to get. And it’s not always sunshine and rainbows. Some people aren’t going to like your book. It’s simply the way of things. Welcome to authorhood, you’ve arrived.

That said, I strive to speak openly here about the emotional experience of this whole writing journey, and I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t speak on the extremely emotional experience of receiving a bad review. Before we begin, however, I want to emphasize this isn’t a “sub-blog post” or something of the sort. This isn’t a direct response to any particular bad review I’ve received and “bad” is pretty subjective anyway. I think we can universally acknowledge that a one-star review is bad, but I’ve seen authors who also struggle with four-star reviews. Authors, as a breed, tend to be perfectionists, and anything less than perfect can sting.

Your Book Isn’t Going to be for Everyone

The best thing about art is that it’s completely subjective. The worst thing about art is that it’s completely subjective. Some people are going to be on the same wave length as you. They’re going to “get” your work and love it. Others aren’t. That’s okay. It just means humanity is diverse and beautiful and lovely and we all have different likes and dislikes. It’s what makes us interesting. And messy. And glorious. It’s important to try and keep that in mind when the inevitable bad review comes knocking.

It’s really interesting to me to see the responses I’ve received on The Wheel Mages. Some people think my world building is great, the best part about my writing. Others think it’s confusing. Some people think my style is unique and refreshing. Others think it’s stilted. Some think my characters are well-developed and believable. Some people think they’re one-dimensional and unnatural feeling. Some people think I defy conventions. Others think I play into tropes. If I take a step back and look at it all laid out before me, the differences can be a beautiful thing. They prove what I already knew: that humans are marvelously complex beings with diverse interests and tastes.

Developing a Thick Skin is a Real Thing

So if you’re involved in the writing community at all you’re going to hear that you need a thick skin. I’m sure I’ve said it about a billion times. It’s true. Very, very, very true. This industry is not necessarily the kindest one that ever was. But then again, life doesn’t happen to be particularly kind, at least not 100% of the time. Developing a thick skin is important, but so is simply being able to build yourself boundaries.

For example, some authors don’t read reviews at all. I don’t have enough self control for this, but I’m a new author. Maybe after I’ve been through this half a dozen times I’ll be able to ignore reviews too. For now, I can’t. If you can, awesome. If you can’t (like me), be prepared. Remember to build yourself boundaries. It’s okay to not check every day for new reviews. It’s okay to know you’re in a bad place and couldn’t handle it if you got a bad one. Heck, it’s okay to have someone pre-screen them for you (if you have someone that generous). Taking care of yourself is important. You’re important, and you are more than your words. Just because someone didn’t like your book doesn’t mean they don’t like you (they don’t know you, likely). Even if your main character is a self-insert character and people say they hate her, it’s still not personal. <– This may have been for myself. Regardless, you are more than your words.

Let it Sting

This is the hardest part for me, and it’s the hardest advice to give. Because it does hurt. The first time I received a bad review of my published work (which is infinitely worse than receiving criticism of something you can fix, so unpublished writers, sorry to tell you, it doesn’t get better), I crawled into bed and didn’t emerge for 29 hours. I didn’t cry because that’s not a thing I do much, but I did run my failings as an author over and over in my mind. I felt terrible about so many things: about inflicting this scourge of a book on the rest of humanity; about being insulted on the internet; about potentially hurting someone’s feelings or at the very least wasting their time; about how angry I was and how ungrateful and selfish and stupid and unworthy. I felt like I should never write again. I felt like my voice didn’t matter and then felt selfish and vain for ever thinking it should matter in the first place. What a narcissist I am, thinking someone should care what I have to say. What an arrogant, egocentric asshole I was for then being angry when someone didn’t “get me.” Every nasty thing I could say to myself was said. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t move, I just played this grotesque game with myself. It. was. awful. So telling you to accept that is hard, because I know what it feels like and it’s not pleasant.

What I really wish I could say is for you to just brush it off, mutter to yourself that person doesn’t know what the hell he/she/they is talking about and move on with your life. But I can’t tell you that for several reasons.

First, the reviewer probably does know what he/she/they is talking about. They are reading tons and tons of books, and they know what they like and don’t like. They also probably know a little bit about what a book should have. They know what world building is and pacing and plot and such. A lot of reviewers are writers themselves. That’s part of the reason it hurts so much to receive a bad review. I think for me, most of the sting of a bad review comes from being able to recognize that something in that review was true, at least for that individual, and that hurts because I feel like I’ve failed as a writer. Failure sucks.

Second, reviews can actually help your writing if you’re open to them. Don’t get me wrong, you’re probably not going to be open to them right away. But after the initial sting has worn off, a bad review can help you improve future books, so simply brushing it off isn’t always the wisest approach. This is especially true if the reviewer is in your target audience.

Third, if you’ve been hurt by a review, you’re probably not going to be able to simply move on. Period. You might be able to mask some of the pain (guilty), and if you have to do that for a little, do that. But eventually, you should confront it. Storing pain isn’t a great decision (trust me, I’ve got years of it I’m dealing with).

It’s okay to let it sting, to take a few days off, to recenter yourself. But get back up. It’s like falling off a bicycle (or horse, in my case). Confront the pain, but don’t let fear of falling stop you from doing something you love. You’re going to fall. Again and again and again. Learn to tuck and roll and protect yourself as best you can. When you fall hard, heal, then go right back out. Life is too short to let the voices in your head control you. And at the end of the day, those voices are yours. The review or the reviewer didn’t put them there. You did. Your experience, your self-doubt, your insecurities, those are what did that. Battle them. Valiantly. You deserve no less.

Do Not Engage the Reviewer

Seriously. Don’t do this. It’s an extremely bad look. Especially if you asked for the review. In my view, there is little more distasteful than an author coming for a reviewer. And if your reviewer is a teenager because you write YA or MG or what have you, please remember you are the adult in this situation and act accordingly. You’re a professional. Be professional. No matter how hurt you are.

I know it’s hard. Trust me, there have been reviews I’ve received where I’ve wanted to ask questions. To try and explain myself. To tell the reviewer if they’d just read a little bit more they’d see I was about to twist that trope or that wasn’t quite the way they thought it was or or or… Don’t do it. You had the words to make your point and for that person, you didn’t. There is nothing to discuss and it’s only going to turn out badly for you. There will be other reviewers and other reviews. Some of them will likely laud the very things that particular reviewer didn’t like. It will be confusing and annoying and frustrating. But it’s not your place to make a case or state a claim. And it’s not the place of your friends or fans, either. Of course you can’t control the actions of others, but if someone approaches you asking if they should/could come to your defense, the most professional response is to tell them you’re okay, thank them for their support, but explain it’s unnecessary. It’s part of being an author. This isn’t a courtroom. This is Goodreads.

Build Your Community

This is another biggie you’ll see on refrain in the writing community, and it’s also extremely true. Having a community of other writers to vent to is crucial in this business. Because it’s a hard business and when you do receive the dreaded bad review, you’re going to want to have someone (or several someones) to talk/scream/weep to. Fellow writers are great for this because they understand the sting in the way perhaps even your friends and family don’t. They understand it on a visceral, personal level, and good writing friends will be able to act as a crutch or talk you off the ledge or commiserate with you on the level you need. Having these people around will help you get what you need off your chest without doing anything rash (like… uh… coming at the reviewer). Writing pals are a Godsend. Make lots of them.

You’re not a Failure

You might feel like one. But you’re not. If you need it, take a few days off from whatever you’re working on to absorb the hurt, and then expel it however you do. I know that when I receive a bad review, then try to work on something immediately thereafter, it affects everything. I received, for example (again, not calling anyone out, just an observation), a review about my style once. Specifically, that it was stilted and this reviewer didn’t like that. I went to edit the same day, thinking my armor was well enough intact to get what I needed to get done, done. But nope. Everything I read that day felt fake and awkward and didn’t flow and was terrible and gross. My brain was doing a weird brain thing where it was absorbing my insecurities and bringing them to life.

Good news is I was able to recognize what was happening and put the pen down before I destroyed everything I’d written by trying to be a writer I wasn’t. It’s true that certain aspects of my style are stilted. I was trained to write postmodern literary fiction. It’s not necessarily a flowing style (as much as postmodernism can be defined as anything), and it does sometimes find itself out of place in the YA/NA fantasy world. Some people find this refreshing, some people find it off-putting. But it’s how I write. It’s what makes me unique. Was the reviewer who critiqued my style correct? Yep, absolutely. Does that mean I should change? Not today, it doesn’t.

Who knows, though, what tomorrow will bring. The only thing to do is to make sure there is tomorrow.

Keep writing.

❤ Always,

Aimee

desk-2158142_1920

Next week on the blog: I’m going to the RWA Day of YA in Orlando! And I’ll hopefully talk about it! The Wheel Mages is up for an award, too, so I’ll be revealing the results of that 😛 Don’t want to miss it? Don’t forget to follow!

Launch Day! The Blood Mage

Well… it’s here! Today, my second book, The Blood Mage goes out into the big wide world for your consumption. This book has a really special place in my heart. They’re all different: the books, that is. They all occupy different spaces in my heart, but this one is the book I felt like I needed to write. So I’m excited (and nervous) to share it with you.

Anyhoo, before I get too reflective, there are some special people I want to thank for making this book (and all the books in this series) possible. You can find the following in the Acknowledgement section of The Blood Mage, but I wanted to share it here as well. These people can’t get enough props in my mind. So without further ado, here are my thank yous to those who helped me put the book of my heart into the hands of others.

Acknowledgments:

Self-published authors often find themselves labeled as “go-it-alone” types. In my experience, this isn’t true. I’m fortunate enough to find myself surrounded by people who have all helped make me who I am and who have helped make this book, and this series, what it is.

First, I want to thank my little brother, Tyler, who has given me not only encouragement, but hope. His unrelenting optimism and shameless promotion of this series has brought me so much joy. TJ, I’m honored to call you brother.

To the rest of my small but mighty family—thank you. Always and forever, thank you.

I also want to thank the entire town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, who seriously showed up for the first book. Punxsy brought me my first reviewer, my first signing, and the first time I ever sold out of copies of The Wheel Mages. Y’all are fantastic (or should I say y’uns?).

To my best friend, Jen, I will never be able to say enough how grateful I am to have you in my life.

To my beta readers, especially Emily and Kelly, thank you. And a special shout out to Emily who was the hand behind getting my first book into its very first library, who has been an ardent supporter, who has pushed me to always keep challenging myself, and who has been a shoulder to cry on—your friendship has meant the world to me.

Always to my editor, Katie, but most definitely this time. This book has seen more revisions than I thought possible, and you never once faltered. When I was sure the problem was insurmountable, you made me readjust my vision and see a molehill instead of a mountain. I honestly don’t know how I could have done it without you.

To Nikki, my copy editor, who probably doesn’t get as much credit as she deserves because copy editing is too often overlooked—you’re awesome, and I appreciate everything you do. Also, I’m sorry I didn’t send this Acknowledgement section to you for copy edits, but I wanted to surprise you. Sorry if there’s something in here that’s making your eye twitch (and I’m sure there is).

Big shout out and continuous thanks to my cover artist, Fiona, whose cover design inspired the words, “I want to marry that cover.” Indeed. I don’t know how you do it, but you are a rock star. Also new to the team, I want to thank Tamara, my formatter, who saved me lots of time and cursing and made this print book much lovelier than its predecessor. I’m so excited to have you on board and to not ever have to format a book myself again.

Book bloggers, reviewers, bookstagrammers, and booktubers, y’all are incredible. I appreciate you so, so much. Thank you for supporting not only me, but indie authors in general, and promoting our work. Special thanks to those of you who have given me not only your time, but also your friendship.

Thank you to my coworkers at my 9-5 who have been amazingly supportive of my moonlight career as an author and have purchased, read, reviewed, and plugged my work. You guys are seriously like a family to me, and I’m so overwhelmed by your constant support and kindness.

Finally, to my readers, I want you all to know you mean the world to me. Even if we’ve never met, even if I’ve never said a word to you, even if we have met and I’ve been incredibly awkward about the whole thing, I care about you all so much. Every day, you’re the ones who make my dreams come true, and there is no amount of praise or thanks I could ever truly assign to that.

With every bit of love in my heart, thank you,

Aimee

#PitchWars #PimpMyBio

*Waves shyly* Hi #PitchWars peeps and regular readers. Regular readers, I interrupt your regularly scheduled blog post to bring you a #PitchWars special! For those who don’t know what #PitchWars is go ahead and read this. And for those who are interested in what this whole #PimpMyBio thing is all about I offer this.

So I guess the cat is out of the bag… I’m doing #PitchWars y’all! And I’m here to talk about my favorite thing (my current WIP) and my least favorite thing (myself) because this hybrid author hopeful is all about blending these days! Without further ado, let’s cut to it.

THE KING’S BLADE (aka the #DeepSeaWIP)

Anyone who follows me on Twitter or has been around this blog for a little knows I’ve been hinting at this top secret #DeepSeaWIP. Well, today’s the day I’m finally going to reveal it all.

THE KING’S BLADE, a dark and twisted retelling of The Little Mermaid, is (shocker) a young adult, high fantasy.

Thyra Skovgaard, First Assassin to the Deep Sea, has never met a mark she can’t handle. That is, until Valdemar Sørensen, her king and mate, assigns his First Assassin the task of taking the life of the Farrish prince. To do so, Thyra will have to relinquish her beloved tail to assume human form and go ashore. What she finds there will change her, and the Deep Sea, forever.

THE KING’S BLADE started as a sort of a joke between one of my most trusted betas and me. We were discussing the trends of our favorite genre (YA fantasy) and retellings in general. I mentioned that retellings looked to be falling out and lamented they would do so, yet again, without a gritty, twisted Little Mermaid retelling. During this conversation, we also discussed the assassin trend in YA fantasy, and one of us (I honestly don’t remember who) might have made a flippant comment about how the two (the retelling and assassins) should be blended. My beta, an oceanographer, loved this idea, as did I, but I brushed it off. I had other books to work on and I thought people might think an assassin mermaid was a bit… well… silly.

The idea, as these little buggers tend to do, wouldn’t leave me alone, though. I started to put my feelers out to other readers in my circle. Assassin mermaid, anyone? To my surprise, the response was positive. The idea dug its heels in. A few weeks later, I sent my beta a message: “I may have started the assassin mermaid book.” She was delighted.

But if I was going to do this, I wanted to make sure I did it right. The sea is not a kind place, mermaids are not people, and assassins aren’t warm and fuzzy. If I did this, I wanted it to be accurate. For it to be accurate, I would need to do a ton of research. So, for the next several months, I immersed myself in sea science. Fortunately, I know an oceanographer. Before I knew it, we were having long talks about swim bladders, how heavy metal dumping impacts apex predators, bizarre shark mating rituals, red tides, and the mysterious deep sea. My scientifically accurate and brutal Deep Sea folk were born.

Now, months later, I’m hoping to bring them from the depths and find them a home in the traditional publishing world. Here we go!

ABOUT ME

For those new here, I’m Aimee! I’m a 29-year-old Pisces who lives in the Philadelphia suburbs with my German shepherd service dog, Gabriela (“Gabi”) and two cats, Apollo and Maia. I’m a self-published author of two books, The Wheel Mages, which debuted last November, and The Blood Mage which comes out on July 18th! I went to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill where I majored in English literature and minored in creative writing and dreamed of going to the University of Iowa for an MFA but got sidetracked by some mental health complications.

Speaking of which… I have complex post traumatic stress disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and am severely touch averse. Though I don’t like to be defined by my mental illness, it is something that affects my writing, and if you stick around for any length of time, you’ll see I talk about it a lot. It’s part of the reason I chose to self-publish my other series, the second book of which is very much a self-insert piece exploring the complications that come with post traumatic stress disorder.

That said, I’m looking forward to starting a new journey with THE KING’S BLADE and am hopeful to make some new friends along the way! I can’t wait to meet you!

❤ Aimee

Always his blade never his queen