Tag: writing

Working, working, working . . .

Posted on by Maggie McGuinness

There’s been lots of very serious work going on around here lately, just like in this picture. In fact, that’s me in disguise in the middle, madly tapping away at the first draft of Book 2 in the Mirrabooka Romance series. Having just gone over the 30,000-word mark, I’m calling that halfway! Meanwhile, it’s springtime here on the coast, which means wind, wind and more wind – a bit like Tilly after she’s eaten too many of the revolting, squidgy things she finds on the beach.

We haven’t had anywhere near enough rain, unfortunately, which means everyone’s a bit nervous as fire season approaches. To quote one of our fire station personnel: “We’ve got 1,000 houses and two fire trucks. You do the maths”. Yikes! I’m glad my place is in a fairly cleared area. Even so, I’m doing lots of cleaning up in the yard to lower the fire risk as much as possible. Here’s hoping we get some decent rain soon.

Progress at last!

Posted on by Maggie McGuinness

It’s been ‘all systems go’ around here. Mirrabooka Magic (Book 1 in the Mirrabooka Sweet Romance series) has been published both as an ebook and a paperback, and Planet Single is now available in paperback too. Now to write Book 2 of the Mirrabooka series!

I’ve actually written quite a lot of it already, but only in my head. I do a lot of long drives to Melbourne (about seven hours on the road) and that time is perfect for picturing the scenes and listening to the characters interact with each other in my head. When they get too noisy I have to tell them to shut up so I can concentrate on driving. After all that, merely writing it down will be a cinch, right?

I also have another romcom that I’m about a third of the way through, but I’ve parked that one for now. I will get back to it someday, though, I promise!

PS – Do you like The Mirrabooka Magic cover? It’s from The Cover Collection. They do a great job and provide exceptional service Iincluding this 3D marketing image).

First romance novel is on the way

Posted on by Maggie McGuinness

I’m happy to announce that I’ve been working like a slave – or perhaps a slightly obsessed accidental cat owner (see below) – on my new manuscript. Mirrabooka Magic is the first book in my Mirrabooka Sweet Romance series, which is planned to be a trilogy.

I’m in a frenzy of editing at the moment, and in my attempts to get enough peace and quiet to allow me to focus on the book (i.e. not getting interrupted by young-adult offspring, demanding cat, friends who think I should actually socialise, or other assorted life inconveniences) I look like this:

Then, when I knock off for the night, I look like this:

It’s all fun, fun, FUN!

To be serious for a moment, the book is coming along very nicely, and I’m excited about getting the editing finished, choosing a cover, and then doing a final proofread and writing the marketing blurb. Not long to go, so watch this space!

(Re the cat: I’m not a cat person, right? But when you realise some poor frightened cat is living under your house and slowly starving to death, what do you do? You feed it, that’s what. And, eventually, that cat realises it’s on to a good thing and begins to roll out its plans for complete household domination. It’s a pretty smart cat.)

Death of the Hope Fairy

Posted on by Maggie McGuinness

Sometimes, I reckon that being a writer really sucks. This is a story about one of those times.

For years, I’d been scribbling away on a fiction manuscript, giving it all the TLC I’d give one of my babies. I’d coaxed it along, cooed to it, and suffered through the sleepless nights it caused. I never gave up on it, even when it was stubborn and horrible and spat words back in my face like clumps of mashed pumpkin. Sometimes, I wondered why I persevered, but mainly I just loved it. I loved watching it grow and I marvelled at what it taught me. Finally, my baby took shape and grew up, and it was time to send it out into the world.

Now, as a writer, I know a few undeniable truths. I know the chances of a publisher snatching up a submission from an unknown author like me are teensy-weensy. Apparently, there’s a higher probability I’ll be mauled to death by a rabbit. Even so, when my manuscript came of age I still lovingly dressed it up, brushed its hair with a neat side part, and sent it off for its great adventure.

I did it because of the Hope Fairy, you see. I knew that in between sending the submission and getting a response, she would come to visit. The Hope Fairy is beautiful. She shimmers with light and is sparkly and gay (in the old-fashioned sense) and she flits around the edges of your day-to-day life, filling it with light and colour. “If only …” you think. “Just imagine!”

The Hope Fairy gave me the most gorgeous, glittery daydreams. She would land on my shoulder as I worked, and brighten the office with rays of coloured light. She darted around the kitchen as I washed the dishes, and the suds in the sink sparkled with her radiance. She brightened my world.

But then, one day, something went horribly wrong. An email pinged into my inbox at the very moment the Hope Fairy darted from bench to window to kitchen sink – and I pulled the plug. A ping, a gurgle, an awkward landing … The Hope Fairy was gone.

Sucked down the drain with a last sad puff of glitter.

The email thanked me for my submission and said I’m obviously a competent writer, but the manuscript didn’t “grab” them like it needed to. The beautiful Hope Fairy was dead, and I was left with nothing but my wretched competence.

“Competent. Isn’t that good?” friends asked.

They don’t get it. Being labelled a competent writer ranks up there with being told how nice you are by the man who’s breaking up with you. I’ve been through both scenarios, and they’re as much fun as being dunked in a vat of cold custard. In a paddock full of angry rabbits. Competent doesn’t get you published. Nice doesn’t get you loved.

This sort of situation is when single life sucks too. I’m sure the slap of rejection would sting far less with someone to put his arms around me and say, “Your writing is boringly competent, but I love you anyway.”

Let’s face it, being a single writer is just a recipe for gloom. (Add a tablespoon of ‘Not good enough’ to three cups of ‘You’re really nice, but I don’t love you’ and stir with the spoon of ‘Thanks but no thanks’, then heat and stare into space until it all boils over and the saucepan catches fire and you slump in the corner, weeping into a tea towel …)

Oh wait, where was I? Okay, back on topic. Looking on the plus side for a moment, at least – being a romantically challenged writer – I know how to handle rejection. As long as handling rejection can involve crying on the couch wrapped in a knitted blankie, and listening to Janis Joplin in the process of binge-eating Pringles.

Hang on a minute … I was eating the Pringles, not Janis. Oh god, I think that’s a misplaced modifier or something. Now I’m not even competent.

Anyway, even while slumped on the couch and marinating in misery, as Janis gently rattled the windows (sorry, neighbours), I knew I could still write. After a while, I turned the volume down, dusted off the sour cream and onion crumbs and got back to work.

I’m wrestling with another unruly brat of a manuscript now. Someday, I’ll wipe its nose, shine its shoes and send it off into the world too. Then I think the Hope Fairy might come back. She may not be quite as jaunty this time around, but I’m hoping she’ll still brighten my world.

I’ll just have to tell her to be more careful in the kitchen.