Some things I've learned

Some things I've learned  by Maree Anderson  (for Writers Gone Wild)

Hi y'all,

Sorry about the lateness of this post! I was busy polishing a manuscript and in the drive to get it finished (so I didn't have to look at it again for a while), the fact I was supposed to write a blog post slipped my mind... until about 11.30pm last night when I was setting my alarm for 6am this morning's hockey practice run. Ooops.

Last weekend I attended our annual Romance Writers of New Zealand Conference, and I figured rather than going on and on (and on! coz it was freaking amazing!!!) about it, I'd blog about some general stuff I've learned after attending nine writing conferences.

1) Take a bigger suitcase than you think you'll need. Or at least another carrybag on wheels. Because you WILL come back with more stuff than you left with. Books, anyone? Uh, yeah. And since I had to lug all my stuff from the hotel lobby, up in the lift, and then to my car, boy was I glad I had thought to bring along a carrybag that not only could be expanded to squeeze in more stuff, but was on wheels. But damn, it would have been heaps easier to pack up everything in the rush to check out if I'd just taken along a bigger suitcase and only had one piece of luggage to worry about.

2) The instant you check into your hotel room, check the bedside alarm. Why? Because the previous occupant will quite likely have set the damn alarm so it goes off waaaay too early the next morning... and it will take you at least five minutes (sometimes more!) with this damned thing getting louder and louder with every DONNNGGG! to figure out how to switch it off.

3) If the instructions on how to reset the alarm make absolutely no freaking sense whatsoever, and don't actually include instructions on how to stop the alarm from going off at all, call the concierge and get him to reset it for you. Try not to snicker when he can't figure it out either (Yes! Vindication!) and has to call in someone else.

4) The instant you get back into your room, RE-CHECK THE DAMN ALARM. Because, quite likely, they'll have somehow set the second alarm, so you'll get woken up early twice the next morning, instead of only once.

5) If you resort to yanking the alarm out of the wall (like I did), make sure you check before you turn in for the night that the helpful turn-down service people haven't plugged the damn thing back in. Sigh.

6) Check the shower nozzle BEFORE you turn on the shower. Nothing is more, um, startling? than having a stream of freezing cold water aimed straight at your cringing, still half asleep naked body. (This happened twice to me at one hotel, BTW. Yep. Whoever cleaned the shower aimed the shower-head straight out on an angle at some stage during cleaning and got me on two consecutive mornings. And I'm obviously a slow learner.)

7) Wear comfortable shoes... and underwear. Uh, yeah. 'Nuff said.

8) If you have allergies, they're bound to flare up during a hotel stay. It's, like, an immutable law of the universe. Make sure you bring plenty of antihistamines along with you.

9) Meeting new people is scary. If you arrive early, grab a book and wander into the lobby. You're bound to meet another like-minded person and be able to strike up a conversation. Some great and enduring friendships have been formed this way.

10) If foods you previously have been able to eat suddenly start giving you major grief, and it's too late to notify the hotel liaison (coz, like, it's the first day of conference and NOW you're having flareups and you're too damned scared to eat anything), you don't need to starve. Seek out the restaurant staff and explain. I ended up making very good friends with the chef and his staff. These guys were absolutely wonderful, and the "plain" lunches and dinners--and even a snack at the cocktail party at very short notice--they threw together for me were delicious. They were my heroes!

11) Catching up with friends is great, but fergodsakes if you're going to gossip, do it in a private place? It's a small world and you never know who'll overhear you.

And finally,

12) At a themed party, if you're going to wear scary demon-red contact lenses, it might be an idea to warn people first? I'm speaking from experience... and possibly being responsible for a couple of people needing therapy based on their reactions.

:-)
Maree

Freebie

Jenna McCormick for Writers Gone Wild.

Howdy gang! The kids are back in school! *Jazz hands* I feel like celebrating.

Gonna make this short and sweet. Anyone who comments with their email addy will receive a free PDF of the first part of my newest serial, Caught Up In You.

That's it. Comment, tell me if you are looking forward to/ dreading/ ambivalent about the start of the school year and I'll email you the PDF, or gift you via Kindle or Nook 1 copy of Caught Up In You. Every comment with an email  address, and reading preference (PDF, Kindle, or Nook) posted now through Friday will win. Couldn't be easier. Who loves you, baby? ;-)

Caught Up In You

Edgeplay: Part 1

 Once In A Blue Moon

BUSTED

Baily Sinclair is used to playing the cards she’s been dealt. When her only living relative falls ill, she puts her education on hold and takes over his job as head groundskeeper at the Rosemont. Her only decadence is her nightly swim, when she can shed her troubles along with her clothes, at least until a man shows up on the uninhabited estate and demands her surrender.

YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT

Held captive by a stranger, she can hardly believe when her body responds to his rough seduction. Especially when she realizes her secret lover is Connor Edge, the billionaire playboy. But there’s more to this man than makes the supermarket tabloids, a darkness he hides from the world and that Baily finds simply irresistible.

And be sure to look for Caught Up In You, Edgeplay Part 2: A Matter of Trust, coming soon!

Adventures in the Land of Chinglish

Adventures in the land of Chinglish!

 

Since I have no great insights into the life of a writer this week, I thought I’d tell you a bit more about my trip to China to visit my sister. She has lived there for many years so it made sense to take advantage of a built in guide who also supplies room and board!

Ah, Chinglish! I’d never heard the word  before that trip. Chinglish is what the ex-pat community calls the literal translations from Chinese to English that adorn numerous signs in public areas. Since grammar and the placement of words differs from language to language, this can make for some really amusing signage. I had to buy the one that proclaimed in large black letters. “No Smoking. I will anger.”  Sometimes blunt works best!

    An interesting sign on the outside of the elevator in the Langdon Hotel in Hong Kong. “If you are on fire, do not use the elevator” Seemed like very good advice. If I’m ever on fire I will be sure not to use their elevator.

Then there was the sign on the inside of the elevator in my sister’s apartment building. “No kicking or jumping.” I had to wonder what prompted that one. Did they have a problem with people practicing their karate in the elevators?

I loved the sign on the lobby to the apartment. It looks like a child’s version of a pirate cartoon, with a big red line through it.  What do you think? We guessed it means No Pirates, but since Dongguan is a two hour drive North from the South China Sea, I have to again wonder why? Inland pirates?

Language is always fun when you visit a foreign country.  When we landed at the airport in Beijing, we figured the easiest way to get to our hotel was a taxi. So, we lugged our baggage  down the inevitably long corridor, dragged it onto the escalator and finally made it to the taxi stand. Holding up an arm, we flagged down a cab and loaded our stuff into the trunk. Then we plunked ourselves into the back seat. “Raffles Hotel we said. 

The driver looked at us with that totally blank look that is never good.

So we said it slower as if that would somehow help.…. RAaaaaffffleeees Hottttellll.

The blank look on his face didn’t change.

“Aha!” Says my sister. She rummages around in her purse and produces the hotel bookings. She hands them over to the driver and he looks at them carefully. We knew it wasn’t going to help when he turned them upside down and still looked confused. The confirmation was in both languages so my guess is that we got a taxi driver who couldn’t read. At this point the traffic cop starts looking annoyed and gestures at our cab to leave. And I mean gestures vigorously, the man did not look amused. Our driver yelled something at him and he started to stalk over to our car. Great.

Then, my sister goes “I got it!”  She pulled out her cell phone and called her husband’s office. “Hi Jennifer, she says. Jennifer is the husband’s office manager. “We’re in a cab in Beijing and I need you to tell the driver that we want to go to the Raffles Hotel. He doesn’t seem to understand English.” She paused. “Great! Here he is.”

She hands the phone over to the driver. He puts it to his ear, and his face brightens immediately. He put the car in drive and away we went. And he kept talking and nodding, sounding quite happy. I look at my sister and she shrugged. “Jennifer’s a bit of a flirt. The company picks up the cell phone charges, so don’t worry about it.”

We were half an hour down the road before the driver gave the phone back.

Driving in China is a new hobby. In the last five years, the number of cars on the road have increased 5,000% and these are all first time drivers. Picture it. An entire country full of new drivers. Getting anywhere is an adventure. There are no speed limits, and very few rules. In the time I was there I didn’t see a single traffic cop. You are not allowed to hit pedestrians, but driving on the sidewalk is fine. You can make a U turn anywhere you want. We had one driver who decided to change direction and he made one right through a line up of stop and go traffic.

He was quite offended when we laughed. I told him that we weren’t allowed to do that in Canada and he looked confused. “What do you do when you want to go the other way?” he asked.  We had to concede that he did have a point.

Chinese drivers use their horns as a way to communicate with each other.

“Look out, I’m going to pass you”. Honk Honk

“Didn’t you see me coming? Do you need glasses? Honk! Honk Honk

“I’m right behind you, get moving.” HOOOOONNNKKK.

China is not a quiet place.

My sister has an IE. I’m not actually sure how you spell that, but it is essentially a live in housekeeper who does windows, pet sits, and moves your plants when you are not looking. Every morning she comes in and puts the houseplants where she wants them. Then my sister tells her, no, she is the mistress of the house and she wants them here. The IE apologizes and makes tsking noises ,and comes back in the next day and moves them again. Apparently this has been going on for three years.

Most of the large buildings bordering the South China Sea, especially in Shenzen, have Dragon holes in them. Yup. Dragon holes. When I first saw them, I thought it was some type of Architectural whimsy, this big hole in the middle of each building, until one of the natives explained that you wouldn’t want the Dragons to be trapped inside your city! Imagine the amount of damage they would do. You needed to make sure that they had a way to escape back to the seas. Hence, dragon holes! (Pictures) I explained we don’t have dragons in North America and she looked very sympathetic.

I have to say that it was a very educational trip, and one I hope to repeat in the future. I can’t wait to see what the signs in Shanghai look like :)

Anne Kane

www.AnneKane.com

Not Your Grandma's Serial Novel

Serial novels. Love or hate them for their cliffhanger endings, they're hot. Lucky for me, the thrill of anticipation is the equivalent of literary foreplay, and I can't get enough.

For those of you new to the format, a serial novel is an ongoing story written and released in "episodic" format. The medium isn't new--Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities was released in serial format via magazines. The popularity of comic books and manga has honed reader lust for ongoing narratives. Modern release mechanisms vary, but until recently, blogs and social media have provided the most common distribution outlets.

Thanks to the ease, popularity, and profitability of e-publishing and indie publishing, serials stand a good chance of providing authors with regular paychecks. Maybe that's why for writers, they've become the literary equivalent of the new black. Turning a serial novel into a regularly paying outlet is easier than ever before. Imagine publishing your novel as you write it, and building a paying audience for it at the same time!

Still, none of the above fully explains why I've ventured into serial novels as my new storytelling format. Thanks to my background in theatre and ballet, I'm an audience whore. I don't write for the thrill of spilling my soul onto the page. I write to create an emotional reaction in my readers. My muse is a true performance artist, she'll stop at nothing for a chance to pimp her wares for feedback.

The genre also appeals to my very real ADHD. I like knowing before I chain my flighty arse to an 80,000 word tome that I've got my readers where I want them...in the palm of my hand and begging for more. The promise of a regular episode by episode paycheck doesn't hurt, either. :)

Within the next three weeks, and with the help of my friends at Sanibel Moon Books, I'll be debuting the fist monthly episode of my paranormal erotic serial, Night Shift. Think Gray's Anatomy meets Supernatural. :) Hope you enjoy this little sip of my world...

Night Shift

Any doctor knows it's hard to practice medicine without playing God. Surgeons struggle every day to hold onto their humanity. Why let a rapist have a donor heart when a nun still waits? Why should an unborn child die so it's crack whore mother can live? For those of us assigned to the night shift at Mercy Grace, not a problem. Our jobs are more than how we make our living. It's how we eat. Literally.

My name is Destiny Ware and I am a succubus. Whether my patients live or die is all about the moral triage, but trust me when I say my victims die satisfied with my services and begging for more...

EXCERPT; Episode 1; Destiny's Choice:

Jacob Marley was at least partly right when he said the dead wear the chains they forge in life. But to say I forged mine through an act free will? That's where I call bullshit.

I press my palms to the static veil that separates Edgeplace from the world I departed when I pressed a Glock to a surgeon's temple,insuring my daughter wouldn't be denied the kidney she'd die without. That act, coupled with my yearning for the life my feat rendered impossible, put me in an unmarked grave, then transformed me into what I am. A succubus, damned to hunger forever for her soul’s completion.

It could have been worse. I could have been hurled back into the world untrained, undisciplined, and randomly feeding on mortals alongside the rest of the paranormals. Disgusting, yes, but a succubus still has to eat. Souls, that is.

Lucky for mankind, and under the Archangel Gabriel’s guidance, I have learned control my hunger and feed only on the bad guys. Trust me when say there are plenty to go around.

A roaring downpour conceals my view of the city on the far side of the veil. The tumult is typical for Savannah on a late summer's afternoon. I know because this is the city I once called home. Why Gabriel chose to send me back here, to the scene of my crime is beyond me, but at least the storm will provide ample cover for my crossing.

The steam rising from the sun-baked cobblestones that pave the tourist trap known as River Street is an added bonus. Visibility is nil. If I slip into the mortal realm only to fall on my ass beneath unaccustomed weight of my own flesh, nobody will notice I materialized out of nowhere. They'll be too busy ducking into the nearest bar for cover. If I ever muster the nerve to cross over, I may just join them. Already memory torments my tongue with the numbing venom provided by a nice, stiff shot.

"Will you miss me?" a rough voice behind me purrs. The large hands that grip my shoulders are ungloved. A calloused fingertip maps a tingling trail from my nape to the small of my back. The chastity chain that marks me as one of his pulls tight against my sensitive flesh. Standing this close to the veil, I am a nearly as corporeal and hypersensitive to sensation as I will be on the other side. Gabriel damn well knows it, too.

A low chuckle vibrates in his throat as he paints the crevice of my ass with flame. He stands so close behind me that instinct drives me to push back into his radiant heat. My teacher has come to me more than ungloved. He is also naked. The turgid rod pressing into the small of my back proves him ready to get his freak on.

If I expect to earn absolution, to someday be recognized and invited by my daughter into paradise, I must show I have overcome the yearnings of the flesh. His finger presses between my cheeks to rim the puckered ring within. “Do you want me?”

Duh.I sink a tooth into my lower lip, squelching the urge to cast a glance over my shoulder. It doesn't matter that those graveled timbres, that searing heat that brands me from ass to waist, causes my entire being to vibrate with yearning. To behold an angel in the flesh would scorch my unclean soul into oblivion.

Fend off an angel’s lust, save the world. I can't help but laugh. My afterdeath has turned into a bad TV serial. My mentor may be the right arm of Creator, but he’s still very much male. His world view is filtered through his dick and he can't wrap his divine brain around the fact that cock didn’t get got me into this predicament.

Love did."Unhand me,angel."

His sigh is almost wistful as he nudges me toward the veil. I dig my feet in, preventing my fall. "What if I see her?"

"You'll duck into the Edgeplace until she passes."

"And if I can't?"

“I already know you you can.”

"Care to enlighten me?"

His kiss is fire on the nape of my neck. “You just denied an angel.”

Getting My Freak On

 Getting My Freak On by Maree Anderson  (for Writers Gone Wild)

Hi y'all,

It's been two weeks already? *checks diary* Yep. And... I'm so snowed with work in the lead-up to our Romance Writers of New Zealand annual conference that my brain is fried. Not to mention it's 11pm and I was headed for bed before I remembered it might just be my turn to post today.

Let's see. Before I head off to conference on Thursday, I still have to get a WoF (warrant of fitness) for my car, do the household accounts for the month (only running two weeks late--gulp), write another article for Hearts Talk (Romance Writers of Australia's monthly mag), check over my workshop notes for an online workshop I'm giving this weekend, finish formatting my latest book so I can publish it on Smashwords and DH can convert to mobi and epub for uploading to Amazon and ARe, and go over my pitch for my editor appointment.

And then there's the fun of sorting out an outfit for the Friday night cocktail party -- a "dark and dangerous" theme. I'm thinking full-length slinky back dress, ankle boots, red biker jacket and my demon-red contacts... mwah hah hah! Now I just need to sort the outfit for Saturday's awards dinner. Sigh....

Plus, I have a few last minute arrangements to make for DD's birthday. For the first time ever I won't be there to celebrate it with her. So doubtless there'll be a few tears before the conference awards dinner when I ring her--tears from me, that is. I don't think she'll mind too much as her dad and brother are going to spoil her rotten on my behalf and take her out for dinner.

Sheesh. I'm exhausted just typing that list.

Anyway, the title of this post isn't because I'm freaking out. Or even getting my freak on--reckon I'll leave that till the weekend at conference ;-) Nope, it's because I have a new book out on 31st August. And, you guessed it, it's a sequel to my YA, Freaks of Greenfield High.

Wanna see the pretty cover DH did for me?

Of course you do! :)

Here's the blurb for Freaks in the City:

True love isn’t a cake-walk when your girlfriend’s a cyborg!

The timing couldn’t be worse for Jay to take her relationship with Tyler to the next level—especially when her idea of “the next level” proves to be vastly different to Tyler’s. Building a life together and adapting to each other’s quirks is challenging enough without the secrets they’re keeping blowing up in their faces. Their relationship is tearing Tyler’s family apart. Worse, Nessa, the ex-girlfriend from hell, shows up on their doorstep, destitute and desperate for a place to stay until she sorts out the latest hot mess she’s embroiled in.

Jay’s not exactly thrilled about Tyler’s ex turning up out of the blue, but it’s better to keep your enemies close, right? Sure enough, Nessa has an agenda. But discovering who is manipulating her behind the scenes isn’t easy, even for a super-smart computer-savvy cyborg.

Then a vulnerable member of Tyler’s family is threatened, forcing Jay to confront a ghost from her past who’ll stop at nothing to destroy her. And this time, the weapon he’s chosen to take Jay out with really could be the death of her.

(Click here to read an excerpt.)

Catch you in two weeks--after the conference!

:-)

Maree

Guest Marliss Melton

Please welcome back the amazing romantic suspense author Marliss Melton! She's here to tell us about her latest scorcher, The Guardian.

Blurb: FBI Special Agent Jackson Maddox is posing as a parolee in a reintegration program believed to have ties to terrorism. Out of the blue, a journalist snaps his picture, putting his cover at risk. Lena Alexandra won’t admit that she works for a tabloid. The truth is, one of the ex-cons in the program murdered her younger sister and Lena plans to befriend and incriminate the killer. As peril looms for both Lena and Jackson, they must learn to trust each other with their secrets . . . and their hearts.

THE GUARDIAN is Book #2 in my Taskforce series following THE PROTECTOR (now discounted 20% for a limited time). The Taskforce Series is about an Inter-Agency Counterterrorist Taskforce headed up by a Navy SEAL to investigate potential acts of terror within the United States. 

People always ask me where my ideas come from. In the case of THE GUARDIAN, I was skimming through my local newspaper, when an article caught my eye: “Unidentified Man Burned Alive.” That sounded interesting, so I read on.  The body had been found on the side of the road, not far from where I lived. The victim was quite dead by the time rescue workers put out the fire burning him. Unable to identify the victim, the police described him as an African American male with a tattoo on his arm of a crescent moon, a star, and the number seven, all circumscribed by a sun. The tattoo suggested ties to a gang called the Five Percent Nation. Many Five Percenters converted to Islam in jail. The police believed this man had tried to leave the gang. For that, he was beaten, drugged, dumped on the side of the road, and set on fire. His fate prompted this idea for my book, an idea that is a real concern to peacekeepers in America.  In the past decade, there has been a sharp increase prison conversions, and while I am all about prisoners finding God in jail, this isn’t “good” conversion. Converts are taught rigid and racist philosophies that actually violate the tenants of true Islam. Their fanatical outlook resembles those of terrorists abroad. Indeed, there are often affiliations between terrorists in the Middle East and radical Islamic converts.  

My hero is FBI Special Agent Jackson Maddox. I’ve had Hispanic and Italian heroes before, but Jackson is my first “mix-raced” hero. Because of his dusky skin color, he’s the ideal Taskforce agent to go undercover as a parolee in a well-respected reintegration program. This particular reintegration program is only for converts to Islam, and despite its success rate,  the Taskforce has reason to believe it is a breeding-ground for terrorism. No one in the program can know that Jackson is really an FBI agent. Thus, when he catches sight of a woman secretly photographing him, he fears his cover is in jeopardy, especially when the woman turns out to be a journalist. 

            Book #3 of the Taskforce Series, THE ENFORCER, will deal with the investigation of a militia headed up by a woman in West Virginia. The hero is Tobias Burke, a secondary character in THE GUARDIAN. I love Toby because he has a great sense of humor and a laid-back attitude that disguises his skills as a Spec Ops agent-turned-ATF special agent. You always know what mood he is in by the T-shirt he has on that day and the pithy remark written on it!

  

Sounds great, Marliss! I love your heroes. Where can we find you?  

Website

Facebook

Twitter https://twitter.com/MarlissM

Amazon Author Page

Pinterest

 Thanks so much for coming by! Happy reading, everyone. 

Kaylea Cross

Are serials the new series?

Jenna McCormick for Writers Gone Wild
I don't know about you, but I've been downloading ebooks by the truckload lately. So many out there, seems like every week something new comes along that I simply must read.

I've picked up on a trend, in the post 50 Shades fallout. Of course erotica and erotic romance is booming. But another seems to be these serials. Instead of a series, i.e. a world where different characters reside and each has his/her shot at an HEA over the course of one book, we have two main characters over the course of several books or "episodes" continuing their journey. Some are monthly installment, others are weekly, still others have the six month gaps between release dates.

Of course this isn't a new trend, any more than erotic romance is. Janet Evanovich has been stringing Stephanie Plum along for years in this format. The Twilight and Harry Potter books are all serialized like this, as well as many others.

What is new is the popularity. Go check out the bestselling ebooks on Amazon or B&N. Now, count how many of them say Part 1 or IV. There are a TON! And many of them are self-published!



 Here's my upcoming serial from Sanibel Moon Books, dubbed Caught Up In You the first installment due out later this month. The first part is going to be .99 cents, with follow up (longer) second part coming out in early September. I've back-burnered everything else to get this project off the ground because I believe this is what readers want right now. More for less, and sooner rather than later.

So I have some questions for you. Do you like this serialized format, with a new short installment more often? Or would you rather pay $9.99 and wait six months for a complete book? For $2.99 how much of an episode do you expect? Some indie authors, myself included, are selling full novels for that price. Are you satisfied with 60 pages that ends on a cliffhanger or are you going to ask for your money back?

In the end, publishing is like real estate. The book is worth what people are willing to pay for it and not a penny less.

For more about Caught Up In You follow the conversation on twitter with #caughtupinyou

Bringing home the bronze

Bringing Home the Bronze by Maree Anderson  (for Writers Gone Wild)

Hi y'all,

In the lead up to our annual RWNZ conference, I've got more work than I can poke a stick at to complete, but I'm still making time to watch what I can of the Olympics -- even though most of the time I end up watching the replays. And I gotta say, what touches me the most is the sheer delight and awe on a competitor's face when he or she stands on the dais and is presented with a bronze medal.

Yes, that's right. A bronze medal. For coming in third place.

Okay, okay. Granted it would be The Best Feeling Ever to have a gold placed around your neck. And on "the most unforgettable moment of my life" scale, doubtless silver is pretty darned awesome, too. But it's these bronze medal winners who have really made me sit up and take notice.

Why?

Well, I think it might have something to do with contests -- specifically, writing contests. If you've ever been courageous enough to enter one, then I'm sure you know how it is. We polish our chapters (and maybe the dreaded synopsis) until they're so shiny we have to squint to look at them. We pay our entry fee. We send off the entry and try to forget about it.... Until the date when the finalists are announced is upon us. And we wait anxiously for that all important email from the contest coordinator. (And try not to be too disappointed if we don't get one.)

If we're lucky enough to be chosen as a finalist, there's euphoria and fist-punching the air and maybe the popping of a champagne cork. We're on top of the world. Suddenly there's opportunities waiting in the wings and a heap of "what ifs?" to contemplate. And then it's back to waiting again. Only this time, we're chewing our fingernails, hoping....

And then the moment is upon us, and the placegetters are announced and we see that email in our inbox and... our entry came third. Cue deflation of those hopes and dreams. And sure enough, when the results are made public, the first placegetters--maybe even the second, too--got full manuscript requests from the agent/editor judges, but we missed out. And we can't help feeling disappointed, gutted. Sure, it's a third place, but what good has that done us? It's third place. Two other manuscripts were better than ours. Man, this sucks.

Sound even a teensy bit familiar? *wry grin*

But you know what? Those Olympic athletes representing their countries on the world stage don't think a bronze medal sucks. They're proud to bring home a bronze. They're not moping round, wondering why they weren't good enough to bring home a silver or gold. They're smiling. They're teary-eyed. They're so proud they want to burst. They're bloody thrilled to bits!

Case in point, the UK men's gymnastic team. If anyone had reason to be disappointed, it was them after being downgraded from silver to bronze after a protest questioning judges' scoring. But they were chuffed as heck. Delighted. Couldn't stop grinning.

And that kind of joy is something I want us all to get back.

So I'd like to go on record as stating:

1) If you are courageous enough to enter your work in a writing contest, you are a winner. It's no easy thing you've done--putting your work out there for others to judge. You deserve a medal!

2) If you final in a writing contest, you are a winner. It's no easy thing getting all your ducks judges lined up in a row so you won't get knocked out by one low score. You go girl! (Or guy!) Hold that amazing feeling close to your heart. No one can take it away from you.

And if you are lucky enough to place in the contest and it's a third, just remember those Olympic athletes bringing home the bronze. Be proud of your accomplishments. They're worth celebrating.

:-)
Maree