It's starting to seem silly posting the same blogs in two places, so I'm posting the link instead. Read how I decided to build my own following by following Rachel Harrie's campaign:
http://sherahart.blogspot.com/2011/08/platform-falling-i-mean-following.html

Another egg hatched into Omega Man, who cleans up crime throughout the land. With a plunger. That's some serious sit fighting, although he's a stand up guy. You know what I mean. He's even had some commercial success. You guessed it, in a commercial. Something fishy about a sushi chef advertising comics. TBS

Too bad not enough of our nest eggs hatched to keep all our chickens, I mean children, fed. Maybe its the size of those little cluckers, not so small any more, and always hungry. So we did some nest cleaning before the big storm the night of our anniversary. No, wait. That was a whole week before. However times flies, we were still tired from the stress or helping another fledgling fly the coop. Of course, seeing this fledging in front of a 7' tall door, you'll wonder how much bigger one could get. And maybe how sharp are his teeth?

I couldn’t decide at first whether to jump for joy or reign in my excitement when another writer, Dierdre Eden-Coppel, sent me her “Fantastic fantasy writer” blog award. My inner voice tells me my blogs aren’t that good, although I always try to add some wordplay fun. So with a skeptical attitude I checked out her blog athttp://astorybookworld.blogspot.com/. Now I'm a convert.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a professional writer illustrator who’s farther along the road to publishing than I am, and with a much more developed platform. She does agent and author interviews, always in demand for writers. And she really does give out attractive awards she designed to people whose blogs she enjoys, different awards for different types of blogs. Even if she does all this to publicize her own illustration talents, which are pretty impressive, it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement and very clever marketing. I could learn a thing or three, maybe a few hundred things, from Dierdra. 

She even has a waiting list, in the thousands, of people signed up to read her books when they come out. She’s got more followers by sweet enticement than I’ve eaten chocolates this month. That’s a lot. Excuse me while I wipe my chin. It’s August in Florida, and even those candy coated chocolate pieces melt on my mouth, not my hands. Go figure, or eat chocolate.

Yes, I’m brown-nosing here, but let’s redefine that term to mean smelling chocolate so close up as to earn the mark of fine chocolate connoisseur. This type of brown-nosing is what every author must do to attract readers. To tempt the finicky ones, maybe my book should come with a chocolate cover instead of a chocolate moose and gummy bears inside. Brown-nosing aside, I need to heat up my platform to the melting point of chocolate until the whole world shares it.

Since my blog advertises “Care for a cause and have pun doing it”, you might as well make winning my first blog contest your cause. With visions of chocolate melting in the mail, I've added another prize offering. Now I'm giving one free $10 box of chocolates (US shipping only) or a $10 gift card (wherever shipping costs under $5), winner's choice on both, by random drawing. The contest closes at midnight US Central time September 10, 2011, so I can hold the drawing on September 11, a day I can't forget.

Here’s what to do, one entry point each:

1. Like my author page on facebook: Sher A. Hart

2. Like my website: www. sherahart.com. You only need to click the like button on one of the pages.

3. Follow this blog: http://sherahart.blogspot.com/. 

4. Share the same blog on either facebook or twitter or both (tell me your id).

5. Optional: Link to my blog from your blog or my website from your website (tell me the URL). If you're another writer who gives writing help and want your author website link included on the "Read and Write Right" page of my website, email me your info using the "Contact and Interact" page of www.sherahart.com.

6. Leave a brown-nosing comment on either blog with which things you did, your point total and email address so I can email you if you win. 

Disclaimer: This writer takes no responsibility for the use of prize chocolate. Chocolate consumption should be done in moderation. Eat responsibly and do not drive while under the influence of chocolate. This message paid for by the choco-lick book advertising council.

Why didn't the EYES, better known as Empathic Yoga Ecologist Seers on Erth One, predict so many people would check my website as soon as I started querying agents to represent Erth Won? (That's the book title, not the planet name.) I sent only a few letters, not thinking even one agent would check my website. At least not so soon. And never 20 times as many letters as I sent. It can't be the webcrawler bots checking for updates.

Under such scrutiny, I decided to do a major overhaul. Many agents say they want well-developed new worlds or old ones re-imagined. Though Erth One fits both extremes, I hadn't posted many specifics online. So I did.

For my friends and relatives who already read my home page, please do so again. Same goes for teenage and adult reviewers. Let me know if you like the hisstory I posted for Erth One. Ditto if you have any questions about Erth SCOUTs, Super Conductors of Universal Terraforming. Most important, show your interest and support by clicking the like button and sharing on Facebook. I need a large audience of willing readers, the larger the better.

Why, you might ask? To convince an agent I have enough readers to make it worth marketing my book, These days most publishers won't read any manuscript sent by an unagented writer. And what good is free agency without any doors open to choose between?

Erth Won is a clean read, even if the characters get dirty fighting addictive towbackhoes and other evils poisoning the Heartland. In the end, someone will have make sure evil gets its just desserts, beating some murderous bullies in the process.So share with anyone who has children over the age of ten who might like going along on the reading adventure of a lifetime, saving Erth One's Heartland from destruction.

If I posted only the last spelling at least one person would think I can’t spell. Instead, I’m having a rainy spell. It’s bad enough getting rained on where people will notice you looking like a drowned rat. It’s worse when you get soaked financially. Within 3 months we’ve had 2 broken phones (1 of the expensive android-gynous persuasion), 2 mechanically challenged cars, 2 wrecked trucks,1 stolen trailer, 1 stolen ring, 1 broken fridge, 2 broken washers, and a pool with multiple broken parts. Now what did I forget?  I try not to think about the thousands of dollars in water damage in a bathroom due to a certain teenager’s looooooooooong showers.

The fridge is back in business because I knew what was wrong, found a cheap part, and the repair was manageable, if not easy. Nothing else has been even close to easy. When the fancy washing machine decided to go out of balance during each load, I couldn’t decide which part it needed. Its unbalanced behavior—constant hopping around the laundry room floor—nearly unbalanced me too. So I did some hopping onto Craigslist and sold it—with full disclosure, by the way. I told the buyer the most expensive part on the long list of possibilities.

I researched; I shopped, and finally decided no more fancy HE washers. In fact, no more NEW washers, period. It won’t be nearly as painful replacing my used $400 washer/dryer pair as a new $1800 washer/dryer pair—which I sold for $350. Ow. Never mind getting an agent for my fiction writing. I need one to manage all these disasters. There must be some profit in failure, right? 

Did you already guess my replacement washer broke too? You should’ve seen that coming, even if I didn’t. I liked the Atlantis, an old fashioned (never mind how much water it uses) top loader.  Except it sometimes didn’t drain during the spin cycle, and yesterday it just stopped right after filling and never actually washed the clothes even though the timer advanced to the end of cycle. 

Second Chance Appliances left this message on their phone. “We’re out of business until further notice. Don’t leave a message because I won’t call you back.” I left one anyway, to make sure the owner knew I wasn’t happy. According to another dealer, he won’t hear it in jail. Can’t say I’m sorry. Except once again, after I took the washer apart, I saw nothing that looked broken or smelled burnt. If it’s either the timer or motor that broke, those suckers are expensive. 

Monday I’ll make some calls, search the internet some more, and probably decide wrong again. Would hiring a repairman to do the repairs kill me? No, but considering all the other repairs I can’t do myself and have to hire a repairman, it would kill my budget. That’s why a rainy day almost never means I have much undisturbed writing time.

I would give thunderous applause for even one day without something breaking, getting wrecked or stolen. Oh wait, I had most of one last week, but I used it to wash and fold all the laundry backed up during my last trip to Seattle. Even the bedding had to go through thanks to our cat Furball who had a fight and bled on it. Poor Atlantis (my washer, remember?) re-sank under the last boatload of bedding and might never rise again.

I’m glad I know how to swim. Stroke, breathe, stroke. Uh-oh. Is that a hurricane coming? Okay, have a stroke. Nah, I think I’ll open the doors and let the floods come in. Sorry for the sarcasm. Tonight I prefer paddling over drowning in tears.  Tomorrow, I’ll try to be nice again.

I went and I learned and its do now or die.

There you have it, not exactly panic on the doorstep of success—more like I need to take the next step already. I’m tired of endless rounds of critiques and editing.  Taking even more poetic license—this is it—time to submit. My blogs have been sparse because I’ve been busy writing, snatching every second I can between family time, the usual business and unusual business, dealing with disasters.

I’ve revised my query about a hundred times.  My synopsis is so sync-copied I can’t see straight.  I worked two classes of 7th graders’ fingers to the bone to polish my book. Okay, that’s an exaggeration because I brought treats, gave prizes for the most helpful suggestions, and we had fun. But school ended and I finished entering the students’ suggestions within a month. Then I made another round of adult critiques, and another few rounds of my own. Since I’m my own worst critic, I put a time limit on that or I’d never submit anything. The time limit was SCBWI’s Orlando workshop.

I went to the middle-grade track and enjoyed the success stories and especially the humor, but I went for the lessons. I got those in enough detail to push me forward, through that last leg of synopsis and query editing. So between family business and church stuff, getting choir ready for another performance, I’m going to set out Query Shark bait. That’s how open to criticism I am. Chew me up and spit me out, just leave a few pieces, please.

I’m also taking a few days to regain my calm and feed my spirit with a relative visit.  Even a working vacation does wonders when it's to see loved ones. Back home I’ll start researching my first round of 10 agents to query.

I might have to delay another week while I deal with backed up laundry and finances—I can’t stand dirty laundry piled up or receipts not entered in Quicken either. But I hope to have the dirty business under control soon, along with the long awaited launching of one of my children from the nest.

Fly! I won’t cry—much. Maybe I’ll even take over the space for an office.

Afterwards, all other business must take a number and stand in line, because I'll be researching agents and reading their submission guidelines. Last but not least, I’ll send, send, send, because I hear there’s no end to rejections.

    Blog June7, 2011

Before that, the question for me was to do or not to do. To make things clear, there’s really no question of me not doing. The only way I could fail as a writer is to quit. I’m never done writing even when I just finished editing the last chapter of my book. So I must do—but not in the manner of much ado about nothing.

I have committed substantial effort to my book. This last revision was inspired by a class of 7th graders I worked with once a week this year. Now I need a few adults to volunteer as reviewers. These reviewers must not quit, at least not before the 4th chapter. More important, there’s a one week deadline to review three chapters.

I don’t expect a full line edit like a professional editor might provide, but I do need to know if the story is easy to read, whether it flows and makes sense to an adult—you know, those “old” people who buy the books for their young teenagers.

The 7th graders gave me suggestions and inspiration that generated a ton of changes. Think I’m kidding? Try lifting the stack of review papers I went through first as a group and then individually to make sure I addressed every question and concern.

The most important lessons I learned from them are less talk and more action. The average twelve-year-old these days doesn’t understand puns without explanation. Same with words like entity and rift. There’s a huge mental leap that happens somewhere around age 13. I hope that’s my lucky number, even if I don’t believe in luck except as a reward for hard work.

Now I have until the 24th of June to have adults read my book, or at least the first three chapters, and offer up opinions, good or bad. That date is when I’ll attend the SCBWI (Society of Children’s Bookwriters and Illustrators) midyear workshop in Orlando to try and sell it. I could use a few more volunteer reviewers, but only if you’re a fast reader and only if you’re not afraid to tell me the worst. I wouldn’t ask for criticism if I couldn’t take it.

I have one volunteer who left on vacation and might not be able to finish the first three chapters in time. Make no mistake, timing is critical because I need a week to make any changes necessitated by the reviews. For locals, I can print and deliver the manuscript if you prefer. For everyone else, the reviews must be online because there’s not enough time for snail mail.

I will return the favor of course. If you’re not a writer, I can help hone presentations or lessons for work, school, or church. So now the question is to review or not to review. I leave it up to you.

Make it or break it. Succeed or fail. Either way, there’s something to learn, even if failure and bad breaks teach unpleasant lessons. Unless the bad break comes solely from someone else’s decision or a natural disaster, most times changing a decision will change the outcome—next time. I would like to turn my bad breaks into good ones. Who wouldn’t?

Of course, sometimes bad breaks pile up so fast it’s hard to find the good breaks—not so much “can’t see the forest for the trees” as “can’t see the end of the tunnel because it’s filled with wrecked cars”. Today I can’t see to the end of my kitchen because I have two fridges in it and I can’t see my laundry room floor because it’s piled with dirty laundry. No complaints about the fridge, which broke after many years of good service. The second fridge, a temporary I bought while I fixed the first, is about to be donated. My old fridge is working like a charm again.

Not so, the fairly new washing machine. It never cleaned clothes well. It broke the first time at less than one year, then again at three, and at four and a half. This time the balance system went wonky, or should I say walky? Now the machine thumps halfway across the room rather than spin circles.  Spinning in circles isn’t good for people, but it is for washers. Someone please tell the designers. I’m too busy researching what not to buy this time. Never mind Consumer Reports. Now I’m reading epinions.com, pissedconsumer.com, etc.

My washer’s poor design was out of my control. The reviews that labeled it the top performing top-load washer were out of my control. The price of the broken part is out of my control, $90 for a “rotor position sensor”, Greek for “I’ll jump up and down because that’s my senseless disposition”. The break’s timing, right after the fridge, was out of my control.

Whether I throw good money after bad to fix a clothes eating monster, a Kenmore Oasis, is in my control. I won’t buy the Whirlpool Cabrio either. It’s the same thing under original manufacturer’s name. Consumers of the internet have spoken. Both tangle, wrinkle, and eat clothes. Both allow small things to escape the washer and ruin the pump. Both have bad control boards and end up with broken balance systems.

Too bad I love the dryer, doomed for a dumping by association. I’m color blind for people, but appliances are different. Can’t have a blue dryer with a white washer, right?

So, why am I complaining about appliances breaking in a writer’s blog? It’s all about pieces that unbalance peace as a whole. My book’s current 5th chapter was the first I wrote, dumping my protagonist into a hostile dessert, not desert, territory. My supposed high efficiency washer was my first bought since we moved to Florida, hostile laundry territory due to desserts like blueberry and mud pie, plus muddy bayous, sandy beaches, camping and hurricanes. Neither my book’s first chapter nor my washer could cut the mustard, let alone the blueberry stains.

A few years ago, I found out Emerald Coast Writers' critique group could help me fix my book without stealing my story ideas. I ended up writing a new first chapter, setting up the later chapters. By the time I realized neither new beginning nor new washer were problem free, it was too late to go back. I’d sold my old washer and learned too much about writing to revert to the original first chapter. It was necessary, like my washer, but unlike my washer, not the place to begin.

I tried to work around both problems—both bucked and stomped around. I can’t begin to tell how many times I rearranged clothes in the washer and scenes in my book to get a perfect balance, until I realized I was using the wrong repairman. A book meant for young teens to read needed middle grade reviewers, not adults. At last I got them, a whole class of 7th graders. So unlike the never-ending wash cycle, my book is now finished, balanced. Old and new scenes blended into a climax the whole class loved. How do I know? The teacher said so.

Beep-beep, all done—the school year is over. I think I made that break, but not without a lot of help. Now it’s time to shop for a washer. Any ideas? If not, I’m all washed up. No, this time I’m going to clean up.

 Sorry, but I don’t know yet.  It doesn’t matter to anyone who didn’t enter the writing contest, but to Mrs. Beard’s 7th grade students, it could be the start of a writing career, or at least the start of an interest in writing to further another career. There’s no doubt writing skill betters a person’s chances of doing well in most jobs. In fact, many jobs require writing on a daily basis—some more than others. At a local middle school’s career day, an accountant said a large part of his income depends on his writing skills, not his math skills.

This year I’ve had great fun at middle school both reading seventh graders my book and teaching them writing in return. While my biggest concern was increasing their interest in reading my book, underlying that concern was increasing their interest in reading, period. Without developing an interest in reading, it’s a sure bet no one would develop an interest in writing. To me, the world always would have seemed a sad place without good books to read.

Now, I’ve added writing to my idea of a fulfilling day. I hope Mrs. Beard’s 7th graders make the same transition, but if not, I hope they’ve learned to stretch their imaginations enough to enjoy reading as recreation. What other hobby can be so educational and fun while taking you worlds away without leaving the planet? Don’t say movies without realizing that most of those originated as a book, and all as a written screenplay.  Anyway, wasn’t the book better?

Next week, I’ll announce the winners of the Emerald Coast Writers’ contest for students. As of now, I don’t know any student’s name. I avoided finding out who did or didn’t give each chapter of my book a positive review on purpose, so the students who didn’t like it wouldn’t be afraid to tell me the worst. With the end of school next week, I can find out who really won the chapter reviews and also announce the writing contest winners by name.

There’s no doubt I won too—a great opportunity to work with Mrs. Beard and her students. I will be forever grateful. Someday I hope to recognize the name of one of these current 7th graders as the author of a book I want to read. I expect it’ll be better than the movie.

 The subject isn’t setting clocks, but moving forward, in time.

Sometimes I wonder if I have a sign on my back saying, “Kick Me!” Parents know that sign comes with children. The older they get, the worse it gets. But anyone who does their own taxes and has their own business or rental gets another “Kick me” sign from the IRS. Add more signs for disasters at home, appliances breaking, roofs leaking, etcetera. We had both last month. And an unexpected family emergency that kept us home from a church youth trip. Might as well plaster those signs on our windows.

Through all this stuff, did I ask myself what I did to deserve it? Not much. Without explanation, that might seem like a fatalistic point of view. So here goes. It’s too late to change the past. Once I decide if I made a mistake that I can correct in the future, i.e. by repenting, apologizing, or taking different actions, further thinking back is backwards thinking, a waste of time. If I did something wrong, my time is better spent dealing with the problem in time, as in now. If I didn’t do something wrong, springing forward is still the only way to get over a setback.

I know I taught my children right from wrong at an early age and repeated it often enough. But parents can’t make all their children’s choices for them. At my age, I still haven’t got it down. Even if most of my bad choices relate to forgetting something, I can’t expect my kids to make perfect choices. Sleepless nights aside, I’m happy for any sign of improvement. And some of my children are managing their lives well enough that I know I did something right, sometime.

As for taxes, the government officials who create the tax code prefer we hate spending time doing taxes enough to skip deductions. That way they get to keep more of our money. The whole system is geared in their favor, like slot machines. The odds are against people having enough patience or time or knowledge to keep the required records and then plow through all the paperwork necessary to keep every penny they’re entitled to. I just grit my teeth, harness my husband to the plow long enough to account for his own spending, and get it done.

It’s a waste of time asking if I deserve a leaky roof and a broken fridge because there’s a law written somewhere—it never rains but it pours. Anyway, that rain helped our loquats grow into a bumper crop, never mind that we’ll have to give most of it away because of the broken fridge and lack of time for canning. At least I have a fridge with food in it—and a roof.

I spoke of adversity last week to the 7th grade class reviewing my book. At their young ages, 12 through 14, they weren’t sure what adversity meant. I told them some people see their troubles and trials as opportunities rather than adversities, but not always while they’re happening. I wonder if one day a trial will make me smile and say, “Open the door. Opportunity knocks.”

I’m walking to open the door, if not springing forward to open it. During all my recent trials, I kept writing. Sure, it was a half-hour to an hour at a time, but I wrote. In fiction, problems drive the plot. And due to my own trials over the last month, I found ways to make my character’s problems worse. The 7th graders suggested more ways. According to one reviewer in the other class that recently began reading, my book’s beginning is “way better”. Knock-knock!