What's Next When The Book Is Done?

I finished my book on Thursday.  Breaking Through is finished. And I had a wonderful group of ladies at my crit group, Lethal Ladies, who have gone over every chapter.
They weeded through some of the little stuff like missing commas and extra quotation marks and addressed sentences that might need restructuring.  Even formatting issues.

And now the editor has it. And I'm in waiting mode.

The high you get after you finish a book is unbelievable. It's the culmination of months and months of work. In my case, seven and a half months. You've put other things you've wanted to do on hold. You've allowed your house to GROW into a cluttered wreck. You've made excuses to family and friends about accepting invitations. All because you are obsessed with your imaginary characters and your story. (Or at least that's my process.)

And now it's done. And you get that rush of excitement and satisfaction because you've accomplished something monumental.  Four hundred and eighty-six double spaced pages.  127,529 words. It's also part of my process to print the whole document out and keep it in a three ring binder. In this case a three inch binder. There was no room left for even a single page.

 
The story is with my editor. I've sent my baby off to her to be read and analyzed,  poked and prodded. And she'll weed out every missed punctuation mark, misplaced punctuation mark, redundant sentence, and a million other issues.  And if there are any holes in my plot, she'll find them and let me know.

I've also sent the finished piece to a few friends as beta readers to give me some feedback on how they like the characters and story. Got my fingers crossed.

I have my beautiful covers!!! For both my print and epub edition. Thanks to Tracy Stewart at ALL ABOUT THE COVER.

As soon as I get the edits back from my editor, Faith Free-woman, at DEMON FOR DETAILS , and she is a demon for details,  I'll jump into those. She'll do one more read through to make sure everything has been caught. She's really wonderful about that.

Then I'll send it to the formatter, Lee, at IRON HORSE FORMATTING . He'll work his magic and get my document looking beautiful and publish ready. He does all the different formats and I don't have to do anything but send him the doc file. THANK YOU, LEE.  Because I've done them myself before and it's a real PAIN.  He'll even set it up for my print edition and I'll be ready to upload. The uploading is nerve racking for me. But that's another blog.

I'm sooooo thrilled to be finished!!! Just had to share.

Below is an UNEDITED excerpt in case you'd like to read part of the new book.
Write and Read on,
Teresa

Taylor sat up and leaned into his desk to rest his elbows on top of it. His thick gray hair, more salt than pepper, gleamed beneath the florescent lights.  “Sharper angles, huh? Any time you start talking sharper angles, I have to call the legal department and vet something to make sure we don’t get sued.”

“I’ll always have three dependable sources before I write the story, Mr. Taylor.”

He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “I know.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “The problem is for every story we find there are five people jumping on it, and it’s blasted across the television news, blogs, and cell phones before we can even get it into print. It isn’t the quality of your work, Tess.” His gaze raked her face. “You’d be better off trying to join some local news program and getting your face on camera. You’re pretty, young, and sharp. You’d probably make it to the top in nothing flat.”

“I don’t want my face on television. I’m a writer, not a public speaker.” She drew a deep breath. “Most stories are written in a hit, then move on format. The human element is totally missed. I want to delve more deeply into issues, not just skim the surface. Most of the stories we cover are about people. Why can’t we concentrate on bringing the human-interest angle to the forefront instead of the issues? Once your readers identify with the people involved, they’ll want to read more.”

His brows rose, speculation in his gaze. “What do you have in mind?”

Tess’s cell phone rang. She jerked it from her pocket and glanced at the ID. The number seemed vaguely familiar.  She pressed the on button. “Hello.”

“This is Brett Weaver.”

An instant rush of adrenaline surging through her system. Heat rose to her face, and her heart raced. “Yes. What can I do for you?”

“Will you join me for lunch at the Sheerwater today?”

Aware of Taylor listening to her end of the conversation, she hesitated. “Is there some specific reason you’re asking me to lunch?”

“Besides the fact that you’re beautiful, and have gorgeous legs?” His husky male tone shot sex appeal across the line.

She bit her lip to hide the instant response that triggered a flush to her skin and dampness between her legs. How could he do that with just his voice?

“There will be a story in it for you.”

Was he just playing her? Or was he serious? SEALs had a reputation for being players. But he was asking to meet in a public place. A very beautiful public place. A hotel.

An image of him and her in one of the rooms exploring— Oh shit. She couldn’t go there.

What kind of story could he possibly have for her? Nothing with too much political substance. He’d not risk his career to offer her any military secrets. But if she didn’t go, she’d never know what he wanted.

His patient silence on the other end of the line broke through her anxious speculations. “What time?” she asked.

“How’s eleven?”

“Eleven will be fine.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Tess hit the off button, and her attention shifted to Taylor. “That was,” she started to say Brett Weaver and changed it to  “a source. Possibly a lead on a story.”

“Was he asking you out on a date?”

A sudden shot of anger made her voice tremble. “I don’t date my sources, Mr. Taylor. You know we women are liberated enough that we don’t have to resort to using our bodies to –”

He raised a hand. “I was out of line.” Taylor said, cutting her off.

Tess took several deep breaths to calm herself. Had every man in this business remained stuck in the chauvinistic seventies— like her father? “He says he has a story for me.”

“About?”

“An inside look at the SEALs. In particular, Brett Weaver.”

“The guy who did the speaking engagement yesterday.”

“Yes. People are interested in him because his buddy allegedly tried to kill Weaver and his sister along with some girl he was dating. This guy might be able to tell me about that.”

“If you can get info and corroborate it, I may be tempted to allow you to do the series, you’re angling for. You were angling for a series?”

She hadn’t been, but a series would be great. Female readers would eat up a series about SEALs. There must be something on Brett Weaver’s mind. Perhaps it had something to do with why he’ d been escorted back to base yesterday. He’d played it down, but there had been more than one tense moment between him and the two military policemen.

Excitement jogged through her system and her heartbeat caught the rhythm. Maybe he’d actually open up, and she’d find out what was going on.

And pigs could fly, too.