Technical Difficulties

Same book,
different cover :-)

Today, after class, one of my students and I were talking about writing papers. He said he was pretty good at papers once he got started. But, he said, getting started was sometimes hard.

Boy, can I identify.

I find that I feel that way about a lot of things and today, this post is one of them. I was excited to post that, after a nine-month hiatus, Casting the First Stone would once again be available on Amazon. But, as it turns out, I still have a little more work to do before it goes from draft to final copy. It seems that creating adventures for my characters is far easier than navigating the technology necessary to launch them from my screen to your shopping cart.

Meanwhile, the photo at left is the new cover that will wrap around the old story. I'm excited for this re-release, which, as it turns out, is going to be closer to the release of the third (still untitled but getting closer) and final installment of Marita, Angel and Charli's adventures. Oh, and Bets. She'd be very annoyed with me if I left her out as she thinks that, after two books in a supporting role, she deserves to share top billing.

As for the third book, it's now in the hands of my beta readers and my critique group. Later this week, I'll get feedback on the final chapters from my critique group and story feedback from my beta readers. From there, the only obstacles between finishing the book are time and technological expertise. And a title. But, as I said, I'm getting close.

The irony of working to perfect these books while I'm simultaneously teaching my students about perfectionism (as a cautionary tale, not a recommended methodology) is not lost on me. While I've learned to settle for "good enough" in some areas (cooking, for example), my books are not one of them. The real irony is that I might have to put them out there with mistakes in order to correct those same mistakes -- very, very quickly, I hope.

While I'm a tad frustrated (I wanted this to be simpler), I'm opting to view the whole thing as a learning experience. By the end of this endeavor, I'll know how to do all of this -- something I did not know before.

So, for today, allow me to reintroduce you to Marita, Charli and Angel (sorry, Bets) as they make their entrances in Chapter 1 of Casting the First Stone. Soon, they'll be arriving between new covers.

Marita Mercer adjusted the icicle-thin strap of her leopard print camisole and then tugged once, twice, three times. Perfect. Enough cleavage to look casually sexy, but not so much that Jim could brand her a wanton woman unworthy of her own daughter.

“Mom, do you have to wear that?” Twelve-year-old Charli flopped onto Marita’s bed. “Isn’t it bad enough that Dad’s dragging us through this mediation? Are you trying to let him win?”

“Of course not. Besides, you’ll barely see it.” Marita slipped a black jacket on over the camisole. 
“See? A sensible black suit. Sober and appropriate for all proceedings.”

“Didn’t you wear that to work yesterday?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. But yesterday, this suit was a uniform for a court reporter. Today, it’s outward proof that I can be boring and follow the rules.”

Charli sighed. “Maybe we should just take Grandma and Grandpa up on their offer. If I transfer to Holy Redeemer, maybe Dad and Angel will lay off.”

Marita sat down beside her daughter. “Do you really want to go to Christian school?”

“No. But I don’t want to live with Dad and Angel either.”

“Honey, your father and Angel won’t necessarily back off just because I send you to Holy Redeemer. They want full custody. Anyway, your father could easily argue that Holy Redeemer didn’t do much for me.”

Charli laughed. “I still can’t believe you went there for twelve years.”

Eleven, Marita thought, refusing to voice that embarrassment aloud and remembering how everyone—the teachers, the principal, her parents—had insisted that she “find a more appropriate educational placement” when they’d found out she was pregnant. Get thee to a nunnery indeed. 

“Yeah, I’m hardly the poster child for Christian education. And it’s a good thing, too. Somebody has to let you have some fun.” She stood and selected a pair of thin, gold hoops from the jewelry box on her dresser, then turned back to her daughter. “Why don’t you go ahead downstairs? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay. But hurry. We don’t want to be late.” Charli slid off the bed and bounded out of the bedroom, her brown ponytail bobbing up and down.

Running a hand through her own thick, dark hair, Marita turned back to the mirror mounted above her dresser. Nearly thirteen years had passed since she’d met Jim Alessio at that Chi Phi party. Her hair had been the same color as Charli’s then, with no need for purchased highlights to hide the grey that had begun encroaching even before her thirtieth birthday.

At nineteen, Jim had been older, charming, and just what Marita needed to show her parents that there was more to life than youth group and Sunday services. She’d planned to sneak out, have some fun, rebel a little. 

She hadn’t planned on Charli.

“Mom!” Charli called. “Are you coming?”

Marita slipped a thin gold bangle on her right wrist and pulled her watch onto her left. “Be right there!”

Jim hadn’t wanted Charli when she was born. There was no way Marita was letting him have her now.

Angel Alessio pulled her feet out of the stirrups and sat up, her paper gown rustling.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Perfectly fine,” Dr. Harrison said, rinsing the speculum and setting it on a paper towel. “I can’t see any reason why you and your husband would have trouble conceiving. How long have you been trying?”

“Six months.” Angel bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes.

“I know this is difficult,” Dr. Harrison said. “But you’re young and healthy, and even though six months feels like a long time, it’s not uncommon for couples to take twice as long as that to conceive, particularly if the woman has been on the Pill.”

“But I’ve never been on the Pill,” Angel said. “I don’t believe in contraception.”

“Then it’s probably just a matter of time.” Dr. Harrison made a note in Angel’s chart. “In the meantime, try to relax. Stress can inhibit conception.”

Great. “Should I plan on seeing an infertility specialist?”

Dr. Harrison flipped her chart closed. “We don’t have any reason to believe you’re infertile, Mrs. Alessio.”

“Well, I mean, isn’t it difficult to get an appointment? If I call now—”

“It’s too soon. You haven’t been trying long enough to be classified as infertile.” Dr. Harrison smiled. 
“This is supposed to be fun, remember?”

“That’s what my husband keeps saying. I just never imagined it would be this difficult.”

Dr. Harrison patted Angel’s hand. “I know. But we have every reason to believe that the next time I see you, you’ll be pregnant. Take care.”

As soon as Dr. Harrison shut the door, Angel took a deep breath and slid off the table. She crossed to the dressing area in three long strides, fighting back tears. She was relieved that everything was normal, of course—just as Jim had said it would be—but if that were true, then why wasn’t she pregnant? She knew women who had gotten pregnant on their honeymoons, others who’d conceived second children while still nursing the first, and yet six months of trying had gotten her nothing but disappointment and a sense of utter failure.

And then there was Marita. She and Jim had been together only once, and that was all it had taken for Marita to get what she hadn’t wanted—what Angel now wanted more than anything else in the world. 

(Water lily photo: Pixel2013 via Pixabay)