Anya Bast

Here’s the book trailer for Witch Blood! I’m having my web site redone (it should be ready to launch in early December). I’ll have an excerpt up on it, but until then enjoy this video. Witch Blood releases in March 2008, a month that seems to be rocketing closer with incredible speed.

My husband actually salivates when he asks me to make this every year. I can’t take credit. It’s straight from a recipe I found a long time ago. With so much butter, it’s got to be good.

3 cups mashed yams
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs, beaten
3/4 cup melted butter, divided
1/4 cup evaporated milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup chopped nuts

Combine yams, sugar, eggs, 1/4 cup butter, milk and vanilla; beat well. Spread mixture in casserole. Combine 1/2 cup butter, flour, brown sugar and nuts; sprinkle over sweet potato mixture. Bake at 350 for 35 to 40 minutes.

Cross posted to the Bradford Bunch Blog

Recently I’ve been hearing stories about writers doing rash things when they’ve been unable to sell their work. Quitting forever (is a popular one), but some people even hurt themselves physically over what they perceive as a failure. (I use the word perceive because I have a much different definition of failure than most people.)

On the happy flip side of this, one of my dear friends Lauren Dane has sold two books to Berkley Heat recently! I have watched her from the beginning, before she sold to Ellora’s Cave. Over the years I’ve observed her unwillingness to never give up, even when she thought things looked their darkest.
It took me ten years to sell my first book. During that time, I endured a bad agent relationship, and amassed enough rejection letters to wallpaper two rooms. I even I did quit “forever” once. I meant it, too, and didn’t write again for three years until I realized I was being dumb and I should be doing the one thing I loved, regardless of whether or not I sold. Once I started writing purely because I loved it, that’s when everything fell into place for me.

Of course we want to sell to publishers. Writers don’t want to exist in a vacuum. We want to share our words and worlds with other people.  That’s why we don’t simply just write for the joy of it and simply slip our finished product under the bed. We write for the the joy of it and try to sell that work to the world to read. And it’s a hard sell in most cases. Sure, once in a while you read about someone who never had to struggle, (and secretly we hate them. Heh.), but most of the time it takes years of blood, sweat, and commitment to finally break in.

It’s the result of art meeting commerce. It’s an uneasy match most times, and heartbreaking for those who have produced art that isn’t marketable.

The bottom line is that to pursue this path, you must have perseverance. Perseverance is not a guarantee that you will eventually sell, but without perseverance odds are you won’t. Writing is not an easy career path. Choose it because you love to write. Don’t choose it because you think you’re going to make a lot of money. You probably won’t. Choose this path because you love the “work” and, above all, persevere.

If you can keep an image in your mind of who you want to be and work toward making it real, chances are that, (with some stumblings and a few confusions here and there), you’ll succeed. It might take you ten years or longer, but you’ll eventually make a break.

Can you tell me about one time you really had to get your perseverance on?  How did you manage it?

1. I KNOW there were two socks when I put them in the washer and now there is only one. Where, oh, WHERE did the other one go?
2. How is it some people can get so wrapped up in TV show fandoms that they sound like they think it’s all real. Also, isn’t there more important things to get so worked up over?
3. Homophobia. Gah! Such a frustrating mystery to me.
4. How it is that Cute Overload has reached in and possessed a chunk of my soul.
5. How they could have thought it was a good idea to cancel Dead Like Me or Firefly.
6. Star fruit is always on sale in the produce section, but who actually buys and eats it?
7. Pork rinds. Can we just not?
8. How I can alternate between Zen Buddhist calm and all out anxiety with no middle ground.
9. How in the middle of the night I manage to step on that one block I managed to miss during toy clean up.
10. How some weeks I have tons of things to blog about and other weeks…nada.

What are some of your personal mysteries?

A scintillating day in the life of a romance author. There are thrills! There are chills! There are….yeah, okay, there’s none of that. There is some caked on food I had to scrape off a onesie and barely averted coffee spill onto on my laptop keyboard.

A photo journal of my day.

5am. Insomina. Get up and write, check email, write blogs until Chiclet wakes:

Mmmmm…coffeeee….

Feed dog. (oh….and here’s where it gets really exciting. Hold on guys!)

Chiclet wakes. We both have breakfast (mine is different from hers)

We get ready and hit the road to run errands:

Ipods are just the most awesome thing in the world. Ipods docks for your car stereo are EVEN BETTER. I have a music-loving Chiclet. She especially likes The Decemberists. Luckily, so do I. (Damn…I need to clean my car interior)

Shopping at our friendly neighborhood Target.

They didn’t have what I needed.

Then it was off to toddler open gym for Chiclet, where we played for an hour and a half:

Then home again! A nap for Chiclet and….

Writing for me. Mmmmmm…diet cooooke with liiime…..

My computer is “well loved”. I use it a lot, after all.

After she wakes up, we have lunch and go through our normal afternoon routine of me stacking blocks, playing with toys with her, changing diaper, while getting snatches of writing time in between.

Yes, the glamorous life of a romance author. Y’all are lucky I didn’t have scrub toilets today. ;)

I woke up at 5am and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I got up to write and do some picky administrative things I’ve been putting off. (Writers have to do picky administrative things. Who knew?)

Going through my email, I found five pieces of email from readers stashed in various places. OY. I have a one touch policy with reader email. I open it and reply to it immediately. When it’s stashed in strange folders, it makes it hard for me to do that. Four bits were about Witch Fire (I’m totally amazed I ever get any at all).  Made me happy. Did not make me happy they were stuck in an unread folder. I replied immediately.

There was also an email about Ordinary Charm. Out of all my Ellora’s Cave books, that one gets the biggest response from readers. Maybe because it’s a witch book? Apparently I’m not bad at writing witches. Hmmm….maybe I should examine that one more closely. Heh. Maybe because the witch is overweight? Not many romance novels, erotic or otherwise with plus size characters.

In other news, I finally hit my stride on Witch Heart. I had to rewrite the beginning twenty gazillion times because getting the book off to the wrong start…? Not good. Finally Adam blew something up and everything fell into place. I set the book in Crocus Hill, St. Paul, Mn (That would be the Summit Avenue area, for those who know). Well, a big chunk of it will be there, anyway. I plan to do some damage. :) Demons run amok and such. Funnily enough, I know more about this area of St. Paul now than when I lived there. Via research and the Intarweb!

Today I am photo-documenting my day as a blogging experiment. If it doesn’t turn out too incredibly boring, I’ll post it soon.

The wonderful Rhian of Creative Goddesses has created a movie and cast me, Megan Hart, Lauren Dane, and others of her tribe in it. It’s way too funny. You have to check it out. It’s a bit violent (in a totally unrealistic way), but amusing as hell. Rhian owes me a new laptop because I spit coffee all over mine. ;)

I always knew there was something odd about Megan Hart.

My husband woke me up because I was crying in my sleep. Normally I wake myself up because I cry really, really hard in my sleep. It’s amazing how everything is more intense in dreamlandia than it is in waking reality. Emotion is sharper, sex can be more explosive. My theory? Uhm…not sure exactly, but it has something to do with the centers of the brain.

The dream, btw, was nothing personally traumatic or anything. It was just a dream with a heavy emotional component.

So we get up (quiet, not to wake the daughter), make coffee and we’re standing there in front of our living room window looking out over the frost-laced front yard and…a buffalo walks through our line of vision. A WHITE buffalo, an adolescent. He ambles down our little country street alongside the cow pasture in front of our house and off down the road.

Me: *head tilt* Uhm?
DH: “Did you just see that?”
Me: “I think so.”
DH: “I’ll go call the police.”

Turns out he’s an escapee from a nearby buffalo farm. Wasn’t sure there for a sec if I wasn’t still dreaming. *g*