The ways in which Goodreads makes (some) authors (specifically me) crazy.

Ever since someone added my book to Goodreads way back whenever it was, it's been a near-daily routine for me to check it out.  I'm always going on there for a few seconds, just to see who else has added FREEFALL to their to-read piles.  It has been very, very fun to see the number increasing and all the people who don't even know me who are interested in reading it! 

About once a week,  I'll fill my husband in on the details.  "Guess how many people on Goodreads say they want to read FREEFALL now!"

He'll throw out a number lower than the actual amount almost every time.  (He must have a sixth sense about it.)  And then I get to say, "No!  [This many]!" 

And then we fist bump and carry on with our day. 

Today something momentous happened on Goodreads.  Today FREEFALL received a numerical rating from someone whom I DON'T KNOW. 

They gave three stars, which is good!  On Goodreads, the ratings are set up so that if you use them properly, 5 = It was amazing, 4 = I really liked it, 3 = I liked it, 2 = It was okay, and 1 = I didn't like it.

So, yay!  Three stars means she liked it!  Liking is good!  I like it when people like my book! 

The thing is, though . . . did she really read it?  Or was she perhaps intending to rate one of the other 1.4 million books titled "Freefall"? 

It is my understanding that my ARCs are scarce.  Did they go out already?  Did this person on Goodreads receive one of them?  Or is this person a USPS employee or the friend or relative of one?  And if yes, I WANT MY ARC BACK NOW, PLEASE AND THANKS. 

It is likely that I'll never know the answer to these questions.  And that's okay.  It has to be okay because it's completely out of my control.  People are going to mistakenly add and rate my book.  Some are going to give ratings (on purpose even!) that might not be as positive as I would have hoped for.  It's the scary truth. 

And today just happens to be the first day that one of the hypotheticals for which I've been preparing myself became real.

I made a book trailer! Well, sort of.

What a cool idea!  I got this from .  Google/YouTube has an app to make a super-fun SearchStory.  

Here's mine for FREEFALL:

Yard work conversations.

If I had a time machine, I would tell my 23-year-old self NOT to buy a house with a big yard and lots of trees and flower beds and junk like that. 

Because, as I learned shortly after we bought this place, I hate doing yard work, my golf course assistant superintendent husband doesn't like working outside when he isn't getting paid, and ALSO?  We can't afford to pay anyone else to do it for us.

Today I did a stint of work in the front yard at Dwayne's request.  I trimmed the hydrangeas back, ripped out some weeds, and piled all the clippings up while he trimmed the climber plant on the front of the house and raked the flower beds. 

Here are some of the things we talked about, just so you feel like you'll were there:

I scream.

Him:  What?

Me:  There's a worm here.  Like, crawling by me!  It's wiggling all over!

Him:  That's what worms do.  They live in soil.

Me:  Well, I don't think we should be out here then.  It seems particularly cruel to disturb these poor creatures that aren't used to being disturbed. 

******

Me:  I will never forgive you for this.

Him:  For what?  Forcing you to work your land?

Me:  For putting sludge in our wheel baron and making it smell like a pig pen! 

Him:  I didn't put sludge in it.   It just turned into sludge because it's been sitting there all winter composting.

Me:  Well, I just  wish you hadn't done it, that's all.  It's unforgivable.

******

I scream.

Him:  What?

Me:  This bug!  It's a big, humongous bug!

Him:  It's a beetle.  Beetles are good for yards.  And, wow.  That is a big one!

Me:  I know!  And it's crawling around right next to me!

*****

I pick up a pile of bleeding hearts after Dwayne trims them back.

Me:  What should I do with these?  Throw them into the big pile or make a flower arrangement with them?

Dwayne:  You can do whatever you want.

Me:  I think I'll just throw them in the pile.

Dwayne:  That's the Mindi I know!

Working, working.

I decided today to rework my outline to figure out my next steps with my current project. 

Ten hours later, I was feeling . . . overwhelmed.

I have good scenes.  I know that I do.  I just don't have ALL the scenes I'm going to need.  I'm ripping out an entire subplot, and I think I've found one to replace it, but I don't know how it should all play out.  I don't know how it fits with the rest of what I'm trying to do.

Unrelated (SPOILER! but not really, as it turned out), I decided to pull up the original FREEFALL (at that time, THE FAKE MCCOY) draft and see if there are some deleted scenes I can post here closer to or after the release, just for fun .  I scanned through the draft and to my surprise and amazement, actually there aren't any deleted scenes.  Lots of things were altered and moved around and lots and lots of stuff was added in revisions, but there is very little here that wasn't used in some capacity.

That's exciting to me, actually!  Just one of those little reminders that I've done this before and I can do it again.

Anyway, I just found a file called "Old chapter drafts not likely to be used."  I'm pretty sure there are deleted scenes galore in there...

Writing inspiration and dreams.

I've always had vivid dreams that I remember with clarity afterward.  Which is fun when I have my very favorite dream where I'm moving into a new house and I get to run around marveling at all the rooms and closets.  (Yes, I really do get that excited about closets in my dreams!)

It's not as much fun when my teeth fall out and my mouth is nothing but blood and gore.  Or when I've sprouted unwanted body/facial hair.  Or when I'm running for my life.  And I've always found it particularly upsetting when people who've died in real life come back in dreams and tell me it was all just a misunderstanding.  Then I have to wake up and deal with the fact that, yes, they really did die after all.

But there is one recurring dream that I've had for years and years and years that is worse than any of those.  It's loosely based on something that really happened, but in the dream, everything is twisted around.

This past January, I dreamed this terrible dream again for what feels like the two-millionth time and I didn't want to get out bed afterward.  I lay there for an hour, maybe two, and thought, When will this ever stop?  What can I do about this?  And remembered how I used to have these dreams when I was teenager and how much harder it was then. 

That same day in January,  I decided to write something and see what, if anything, would come of it.  I started with one scene, which led to many more scenes.  Now, officially, I'm working on a new manuscript.  And I love it!  I love my new main character and I love getting to see her story unfold.  I keep feeling like this story might be the best thing to happen to me since FREEFALL.  I really hope I'm right!

There are a lot of things I don't believe in.  I don't believe that "Hey Jude" by the Beatles is about heroin.  I don't believe in fate.  I don't believe that I've had to suffer having this dream for most of my life so that I would one day be inspired to write this story. 

But I do believe that you can "take a sad song and make it better."  And that's what I'm trying to do.