Curtain Close. Take a Bow. Spring Semester’s over now!

Done. And considering my sweet little complication this semester, I think I did a pretty good job.

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Not that I’m taking sole credit for that. My husband ran me back and forth to every class, my mother-in-law encouraged me and proofread my writing, most of my professors were sweet and sympathetic to the challenges I had this year, and God held me up and gave me just enough strength to get through it.

But it’s over! *sighs long relieved sigh of relief* Next is the part where I chill, read, and write while I prepare for…THE ORDEAL! *DUN DUN DUUUUUUUNNNNN*

In all honesty, I try not to think too much about labor. That doesn’t stop me from occasionally laying awake at night, thinking to myself that, one way or another, this little person has to come out of me. I have a few girlfriends with children who have been super encouraging, but they are the few. Can anyone tell me the rationale behind the many and the bold negativity freaks who sneak attack you with horror stories about childbirth?

They lurk behind soup cans in the supermarket: *cans clatter to the floor as they shove their red faces forward* OHMYGWALLYMOSES! I just read about this woman who gave birth in her car! IN HER CAR! Can you believe it? Never even MADE it to the hospital.

They hover beside you in the library: *in a stage whisper* Oh! I thought you were due in June. Well, August is nice too. *snorts prematurely at the hilarity of their next comment* Only you’ll have to go through the heat of the summer. The WHOLE THING.

They spontaneously pop into being, uncaused, from nothing while you’re clipping your toenails: You’re due when? How can you BE so YUUUUUGE? *sees husband working at computer* Is THAT the father? Oooooooh! *nods knowingly with a wry smile* That’s why you’re so big. That baby is going to be a 12 pounder. *pats my belly* Good luck pushing that monstrosity out of your…

Don’t they think about the fact that I might already be concerned about some of these things? I mean, am I the only pregnant woman who wonders what she’ll do if she wakes up to find out she’s one of those wacko’s that sleeps through labor only to meet her baby, blinking up at her between the sheets. Or that labor will be the excruciating horror that all these lurkers warn me about, and my heart will just give out entirely during it. And yes, I also worry that my husband’s hearty viking ancestry has placed the heir of Thor into my womb, complete with pink Mjölnir. It’s my first. It’s all unknown. That’s freaky on it’s own. And most lurkers appear to be women with children. If they’ve already been there, don’t they know to shut up?

Lurkers aside, I’m just trying to enjoy this for what it is. Labor is inevitable now, but in a way, I’m looking forward to it too. I mean, after THE ORDEAL I get to kiss my little girl’s face. I also get to watch my husband kiss her face. I’m pretty sure both those things will make it worth it.

*lurker pokes head in through bedroom window, waggling a finger* Not if you’re… *sound of flamethrower and terrified screams drown out the rest of their sentence*

So, if you need me for the next few months, I intend to be curled up with my growing baby belly. We will be reading lots of books, drinking gallons of water, and trying to do a complete rewrite of Immortal Bond  before tiny persons and William Paterson eat up all my leisure time.

*weak voice floats from garden below broken window* Yeah, and you’ll never sleep again either.

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NOTE TO READERS: This blog has a zero tolerance policy on pregnancy lurkers and their snarky negativity. Any and all pregnancy lurker comments found in the comment section will be moderated by the delete button and a flamethrower. You have been thusly warned.

Crazy Summer 2016

This summer is going to be madness. I’m writing this post on the second day of June, and already I’m about to tear out my hair by the roots. Between doctor’s appointments, my brother’s wedding, and various other items under the vague category of “things,” Timothy and I have been running around like a horde of ants whose home was just squarshed by a massive foot.

Honestly, half of the madness might just be charged by emotion. These past three years have been hard. I’m still fighting through a lot in the depths of me, and what I really need is time with just Timothy and nobody else. I need time with MY family. OUR family. Just us.

I grab at that whenever I can. He referees soccer during the summer and fall, and I’ve been following him around toIMG_4129 all his games, just for the alone time in the car. Another plus is I’ve seen a lot of lovely New Jersey parks. One of them had one of the sweetest war memorial’s I’ve ever seen. It was understated, simplistic, and therefore twice as moving to walk through. And the sunsets! I’ve seen some of the most breathtaking sunsets from the passenger seat. Full palettes of color dropping over hills and mountains, and falling down along the highway as we drive home with his hand resting on my knee.

I’m looking forward to fall for multiple reasons. First being that the madness will be over. Second, I’ll be starting classes at William Paterson.

Being a the nerd that I am, I have already purchased two of my textbooks for fall. They both have bookmarks in them as I have also already begun to read them. I am hopeless.

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So, until fall, if I’m not around here or twitter or anywhere else but everywhere else, I’m going to be focusing my time on writing the needed edits for Through This Darkness and the rewrite of Immortal Bond. I don’t know how much time I’ll have for them come the beginning of classes, so I’m pushing hard to get as far as I can.

Lots to do in the next three months. Here’s hoping come September that I don’t find myself one fry short of a happy meal. *crosses fingers*

All Growed Up

I’ve been working on a young adult fantasy trilogy for over a year now. The way I have it plotted is in a sort of broken chronological order, meaning that book number 3 is meant to be published first followed by book 1 then 2.

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Book 3, entitled Immortal Bond, has been complete for over six months and placed to the side for additional work when I finish books 1, The Channeller, and book 2, My Brother’s KeeperThe Channeller is my current project (aside from copy editing Us which I am hoping to query for soon). I finished the first draft in early December 2015 and it was about 86,000 words. Working this series backwards has been interesting. I expected the world to morph and develop as I went through the series, and I knew that by the time I made it back to Immortal Bond there would be a lot more than just copy editing to do.

I just never imagined I’d have to redo the whole thing.

I was nearly done with The Channeller when I started saying to myself, “Wow, there’s some mature themes in this story. I better be careful.” Then the writer in me rolled her eyes and said, “Look just write what you need to write and you can tone it down later if you have to.” I let myself believe this, until one day I wrote something that I knew had to stay. It was a scene that told a lot about two characters, one of them, named Renaud, is key to my entire series. I read over the scene once or twice then took it blushingly to my husband.

“Hey honey,” I said as I handed him my laptop. “Can you just read that bit there and tell me what you think?”

He read it while I stared at his face, trying to gage his reaction. When he finished he turned to me and said, “It’s good, but this is not young adult anymore.”

I hadn’t prepped him for that reply which made him saying it all the more compelling. I spent the next few weeks with a nagging question in the back of my mind, “now what?”

After weeks of running Immortal Bond through my mental editor, I finally worked it out and came to this conclusion: The whole thing needs to grow up.

I don’t often plot on paper, just in my head with the occasional notes jotted here and there in my notebook or word document. But I went through all the key scenes and I am certain that I can mature them and grow up my characters (some of them literally). I even got excited about it, thinking that it will probably be better this way then my original idea.

However…

I am basically going to have to rewrite the whole thing from scratch. I already started. I’ve been making notes for rewrites of Immortal Bond as well as making notes for how this will effect My Brother’s Keeper (which is tecnically next on the agenda after The Channeller). I even took the time one day to rewrite a whole scene in Immortal Bond, the same scene that started my professional writing journey in July of 2013. It’s the scene that defines the whole story of Immortal Bond, everything else in the book bleeds out from that chapter, like an ink spot on a blank piece of paper.

It’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m a proud parent and I can’t wait to see what my baby will look like after I finish taking the YA out of her name.

© Rachel Svendsen 2016

It’s Getting Real Over Here…

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My first novel is done. Or probably done… I only say probably because of the sleep stealing fear that it’s not ready and I don’t know it. From the things I’ve read by other writers in my situation, this feeling is not uncommon. Regardless, I now stand on the cusp of query and rejection letters…

I. Am. Petrified.

I also have no idea what I’m doing! I’ve been reading a lot of information on the subject yet I still feel like a lost child in the grocery store, too frightened and shocked to begin screaming.

So when my ever first copy of “Writer’s Market” arrived in the mail yesterday… well, I nearly vomited.

I’ve been trying to light a fire under my butt for a while, but I just keep staring at my manuscript. I’ve never dealt well with rejection. Now I have to daily grapple with the thought that it’s inevitable. I WILL be rejected. I MAY be accepted eventually, but the rejection is going to happen.

It’s my baby. Those words are not made up of letters, they’re made up of me, heart, soul, and the cliché sweat, blood, and tears. The Characters are my children. I love them all in a way, even the ones you’re meant to hate. I gave birth to them one night in Lancaster, PA to the glow of my iPad while my husband slept soundly beside me. I’ve nursed them at my bosom. I’ve watched them grow, eat, sleep, fight, love, live, and die, in my sleep, in the shower, in waiting rooms, when I’m at the gym and virtually every random waking hour of my life since that night.

My last step in the nursing process was to hand out several more manuscript copies to trusted beta readers. I’m hoping that if they come back and say, “you need to try” I will have the support I need to go forward. In the end I know it will only be published if God wants it to be, but that unknown future element freaks me out.

People bungee jump all the time. You know that you won’t die from it, but I won’t believe that anyone standing at the edge of the platform about to jump isn’t at least a little nauseated from the view.