(Dis)Organization FAIL

Another "What was I thinking?" moment from Sarah Ballance

Ever had your good intentions backfire? Yeah, we're going there. I decided to get organized, and I don't think I'll ever be so foolish again. Yes, I said it. Organization FAIL.

It all started last weekend. I had one scene left to write in my Noble Authors Blog Tour short story. One scene. I still had weeks before the actual deadline, but I wanted it done so I decided not to do anything else until it was finished. Simple, right?

Yep … until the list of stuff I could be doing started to nag me. After an hour of fighting to get words on the page without thinking of anything and everything else, I gave in to distraction long enough to make an actual to-do list. Organization—yes!

The first task into which I fell was to make a list of all the books I needed to read and/or review. (Hey, I didn't say these were pressing issues … just persistent ones!) By the time I went through my GoodReads, my Kindle, and my inbox, I had over 50 titles. (A week later, that figure now sits at 82.) Then I had the bright idea to go ahead and get the PDFs on my Kindle. The first one went willingly. The rest, not so much. After several attempts, and while in the midst of another headbanging fail, I noticed the files were already on the Kindle. Great. Mission accomplished (and I don't even know how), but now I have dozens and dozens of titles on Kindle. All dreadfully unorganized.

Well, fortunately or otherwise, in the midst of my "Why the EFF won't these PDFs go to Kindle?" googling, I realized I could create folders on the ereader. This sounded promising. So I made a few folders: read, unread, Kindlegraph, etc. Then (you saw this coming, right?) I spent another hour moving titles to various folders. To this day I'm nowhere near finished with that particular task, but at least it all fits in the palm of my hand. Better, right?

Momentarily satisfied, I went back to my Noble Blog Tour short. Less than a paragraph later, I realized I needed to get all of the blog tour info downloaded and—you guessed it—organized. So I created a folder on my desktop, downloaded all of the files, and renamed them by date of appearance and designation. But that wasn't good enough. Nope, back to the to-do list to add those dates (which previously existed as one lump "November: NABT") and their respective "finish by" dates. I'm feeling really good. Organization is awesome.

I hauled that feeling of accomplishment back to the short. But, um, wait. Another plot idea was brewing, and I worried I'd forget before I could expand upon it. Clearly now was not the time, but I've thought for a while I needed to make a list of the books destined to become WIPs. To that end, I've emailed frequent notes to myself, but my inbox is currently full to the tune of 6,306 emails ("only" 4177 are new) so who can find those? So back to the to-do list. A few oft-interrupted hours later (I do have six young children, you'll recall) I had my titles all listed by series and estimated completion dates.

Then, while looking at my meticulously organized list of future WIPs, it occurred to me I needed to update my website (something I try to do weekly). And when I went to cross-reference my blog and my website, I noticed there were a few things I needed to update and reorganize on the blog as well. Don't even ask me how that can turn into hours, but it does.

So let's look at the big picture. I started the weekend with one scene left to write. Just one scene. And now I have 82 books to read and/or review. And five novels to write. And 13 interviews to complete.

Oh, and half a scene left in my short. But no worries. I've cleared the weekend to finish it.

Again.

Want cash? (Well, electronic cash, but it still spends. And enough with the heckling, mkay?) Sarah is celebrating her next Noble release with a BIG e-cash (ahem) prize and there's only ONE way to enter: go to her blog and subscribe by e-mail. Early subscribers will be the first to learn the details of the aforementioned big prize, but there's more: they'll also get the worm. Er... so to speak. Just trust me, it pays. Go.

To learn more about Sarah's Noble Romance titles, click here.

One Year: Looking Back, Moving Ahead

By Sarah Ballance

Oh, to have been me one year ago. Talk about upheaval! I'd just given birth to my sixth child—one who came as quite a surprise to the H and myself, as I'd had a nifty surgical sterilization which was rumored (ha!) to render me reproductively useless—when IT happened. On June 7, 2010 Noble Romance Publishing released my debut novel, DOWN IN FLAMES.

Yeah, I know. Not exactly earth shattering, but it's not something I saw coming. Oh, sure, I had the signed contract and I'd drooled over the cover enough to fear for the lifespan of my keyboard. I'd even survived "the edits"—something of great myth and lore to us first-timers. But I still didn't believe they'd actually go through with it. This was, after all, my book. My first book at that, and my first shot of fiction since grade school. I can honestly say there were approximately ZERO points in the writing process I ever expected the story to see the light of day…let alone with a buy link attached.

It was quite a moment—one to be followed by many more such moments of disbelief.

You see, I never meant to do this author thing for real. I wrote DOWN IN FLAMES because I told someone there was no way, no how, ya-can't-make-me-because-I-ain't gonna write fiction. It took less than a day for my own words to hit me, and from that point I became determined to write "a" book—more specifically, a manuscript—and not because I held any great aspirations toward being published. I just wanted to prove myself wrong. Suffice to say I succeeded—and loved it—but my own refusal to believe the success left me scrambling at the last minute to put something on my website—and by "something" I mean "anything"—and to do the same kind of "something" with my blog. (The latter I didn't truly accomplish until the first weeks of 2011). But even that was nothing compared to conquering my greatest fear.

The Interview.

I am quite possibly the most introverted person you've ever met. Put me in a crowded room—and by "crowded" I mean at least two other people, give or take—and I'd be content to hide under a table if it wouldn't serve only to draw more attention to my quaking self. I'm terrified people will look at me. I have NO IDEA how I managed to get married with a captive audience in attendance, other than to say whoever came up with the idea for the veil is pretty cool in my book. I can tell you all, with zero exaggeration, that the idea of getting my name and myself out there PETRIFIED me. You'd think I had to deliver a speech naked on live TV for all the trauma the mere thought of an interview caused. And if not for fellow Noble author Nichelle Gregory reaching out and inviting me to her blog, I'd probably still be cowering; for her kindness, I'll be long-grateful.

That first interview was nearly a year ago. Since then, I've made fifty-six guest appearances over the internet and have amassed eleven reviews from bloggers and review sites—two for DOWN IN FLAMES and nine for my second release, the romantic suspense RUN TO YOU. (To see the full list of reviews and interviews, click here.) That might not sound like much, but I still feel that pull in my gut when I think about that first interview and how frightened I was to take that step. And now, with my first whirlwind year behind me, I'm about to take another one.

To celebrate my first anniversary among the ranks of published authors, I'm going to do something absolutely crazy.

I'm going to take a step back and write.

Sarah's work-in-progress UNFORGIVEN is the first of a series of at least four romantic suspense titles she plans to finish in the next few months. If you'd like to see the status of her WIPs, click here.

(Another) Beach Vacation Gone Awry

by Sarah Ballance

I seldom wonder what it's like to be married to a writer—I seldom have to, as my husband is happy to point out the tragedy of his lot in life—but it's safe to say we come with our hazards. My Riot of Research real-life tale is one example. This … well, this is another.

Last weekend, my long-suffering spouse and I were fortunate enough to escape our brood of children for about 31 hours (yes, I counted, and I bet if you had six kids you'd be counting, too) at the beach. "The beach," mind you, is a whopping handful of minutes from home, but once you leave the mainland behind it's a whole new world. There's something about having a very large body of water between yourself and your offspring that's oddly freeing.

No such luck for the husband, however, when it comes to his "imaginative" wife.

Things started as they always do: with me trying to get him in trouble, or so he says. When we checked into our hotel, the receptionist asked if we'd like one key or two. After some hesitation, he requested two. Upon hearing that—and with NO hesitation on my part—I asked, "Where are you going?" The two receptionists giggled, and I was treated to a Look. As it turns out, he just thought it would be a good idea to have two keys in case we lost one. Oh. There is that.

Fast forward to dinner. (Hang with me for a minute … this all ties in.) We kept our corner table overlooking the ocean for a good two hours after the restaurant kitchen closed, which gave us a fantastic view of an awesome band. They had a big crowd over in the bar/lounge area, but after staff stopped seating in the dining area and the last of the patrons trickled out, we had a private show. (I should also point out that a LIVE BAND made less noise than our kids—I can't tell you the last time we had such a peaceful meal!) Our waitress, bless her, was attentive and never left us staring at the bottom of our drinks for more than a minute, if that.

At some point, my husband noticed he had one of those Bud Light bottles you could mark with a key or a coin. I'd never seen or heard of them, and I'd had just enough to drink to find them utterly fascinating. (I don’t know what I was drinking – some Bahama something). Apparently, there's a version of a post-it note whiteboard on there and you can write your name or a message of your choice on the bottle. Cool concept, but don't these people ever see beer commercials? If I drank the stuff, I don't think I'd put it down long enough to lose it because that's giving someone waaaaay too much time to tamper with it. Ahem. Anyway, adorable guy that my hubby is, he scrawled his cell phone number on the label, pushed the bottle across the table to me, and suggested I hook up with him later that night. I even got the other kind of Look with the offer … the kind a woman is darn lucky to get from her husband after fourteen years of marriage! *gush*

Still with me? So, later, when the bill arrived I suggested we drop a tip that would be considered generous by most standards. He gave me one of those "you're crazy" looks, but when I reminded him how diligent our waitress had been with refills he tossed the extra cash in with the bill. She came back a few moments later with a gracious thank you and left with the empties … at which point I started laughing.

"What?" he asked.

Pfffft! What, indeed. Anyone see what's happening here?

First he gets an extra key to our room. Then he slips his phone number to our waitress, and on top of THAT he leaves her a mega tip.

Oh, if you could have seen the look on his face when I spelled it out. But such is the occupational hazard of being married to an author (or, in some cases, married at all).

We're just always plotting.

These photos were from our trip, so don't say I never brought you anything! There's no pavement out there ... the beach IS the road, and it's not at all unusual to find wild horses meandering right in the middle of it. (Uh, watch where you put that beach towel!) And, hey, if you think the idea of stepping in horse poop is bad, you should see what happens in the pages of my romantic suspense RUN TO YOU!

Sex on the Beach ... Revealed

by Sarah Ballance
author of RUN TO YOU (a perfect example of how a well-intended trip to the beach can go "awry")

Ah, sex on the beach. Is there anything more sensual, more romantic, more … seriously overrated? Yep—you read that right! You know that scene where the girl is on her back with Mr. Shirtless Abs sprawled over her? He's got his hands in her hair (and way too much styling product in his), her makeup is perfect, and the water washes up to about their knees and then recedes … every time? Yeah, sure. What beach are they on?

Here's the ugly, ugly truth. First, the surf never hits the same distance on the sand twice. It might rise to your toes one time and your calves the next, but at some point a huge wave will come (always freakin' before you do) and you will absolutely, positively DROWN.

Now, most people seem to attempt sex on the beach with their toes to the water (which I'm guessing not because I stare at people who are actually doing it, but because I've seen the commercials for perfume, birth control pills, and beer) and if you are one of those people, good for you. The water will go straight up your nose. So will the sand and seaweed. As for those little sand crabs who burrow down as soon as they hit something solid, who knows where they'll end up. (Yeah, that's a whole other paragraph.)

Moreover, sand is abrasive. Some folks actually use sand for removing paint and other industrial elements from things ("sandblasting"), which in my opinion stands as proof-positive that it can be a tad bit uncomfortable. It can also make condoms a tad bit ineffective, which is how you might end up a little bit pregnant. (For the record, this is NOT how I ended up with any one of my six kids.)

Someone out there reading this is clever. They are thinking they will have epic, mega-hot sex on the beach in the standing position. Okay … standing against what? The pier? A lifeguard stand? There are usually people congregating there, but let's assume you've found a deserted spot … then let me tell you about a little thing called a "splinter." I know sex is all about things entering other things, but a splinter should not be entering anyone, anywhere. Those are not screams of joy, folks.

Clever Reader has another plan: the beach towel. Okay, throw it on the sand—or, better yet, lay it out really careful-like so absolutely NO sand finds its way onto the surface. Go ahead—I'll wait. Heck, I'm even cheering for you a little. Ready? Okay. Now let me tell you about something called a SEABREEZE. Yep, even if you're not getting pelted, there is always, always, always sand skipping along the beach. This means you will have sand on your towel, but that's not your biggest problem. Your BIG problem is how sand loves to stick to wet surfaces.

Now, stay with me here. If you're laying on the towel having epic sex on the beach, I'm going to go out on a limb and assume some part of you (man or woman) is wet because, well, as soon as tab A is inserted into slot B, tab A is also wet. (Sorry … I didn't have a beach analogy for that one.) And then tab A and slot B both have sand clinging to them, and we're right back to abrasion. Or … you could stick to the wet sand to reduce that particular issue, but here's a tip: the wet sand is wet for a reason. (See above.)

Still hanging on to a shred of hope? Here's one more tidbit you'll enjoy for the duration of your sexcapade: there will almost always be seagulls in attendance. Hey, you're on a deserted beach (uh, aren't you?) and they're hoping you're gonna drop a potato chip—can you blame them for watching every move with those black, beady eyes? (That won't freak you out, will it?)

But an audience of heckling seagulls? Heck, that's nothing compared to those wee little sand crabs.

I hear they tickle.

If you want to find Sarah, you can forget checking the coast. She's spending the month of April on the Noble Romance Authors Blog Tour handing out mega prizes, including a number of t-shirts warning folks of the dangers of the beach (seriously). To qualify to win tons of author swag, books, e-books, or a portion of $300 in prizes--including the $100 grand prize to EDEN FANTASYS--visit the official blog by clicking here. (And if you win the grand prize, I wouldn't recommend taking your toy to the beach. You know ... sand.)

AFTER THE "HAPPILY EVER AFTER"

by Sarah Ballance

As an author, it feels a little strange to admit I've never thought much about what happens after the end of a book. Every now and then I'll meet characters I wonder about, but for the most part I'm sold on the Happily Ever After and I'm content with where the story ends.

This week, that all changed.

In honor of Valentine's Day, Cupid himself sat down with Wyatt and Mattie, the leads from my new romantic suspense RUN TO YOU. As a chaperone of sorts, this meeting forced me to really think about what happens after the HEA. Needless to say, it was a memorable experience.

As it turns out, Wyatt and Mattie have the same sort of chemistry my husband and I share. I had to laugh over a couple of comments about Mattie being mean to Wyatt because that interview is a window into the heart of my 15 year relationship with my husband, the last 13.5 of which have been spent in marriage. The H and I trade quips and one-liners almost non-stop, sometimes so rapid-fire it's as if we were scripted. And jabs? Boy, do we ever take jabs at one another – good natured ones – and that banter is one of the things I love best about us.

But, truth be told, it made me wonder. Am I mean to him? If I asked, he'd probably say yes and offer to punish me later, mischievous grin firmly in place. And as fast as I realized that, I came to a fabulous conclusion: whatever it is, it works for us. I love how – after 15 years and six kids – he's totally cozy in closing his eyes as if he's horrified when he says they've been "long, long, LONG" years. There's a certain amount of trust in being able to do that – not only trust in our relationship, but also that I won't injure or impair anything important while he's standing there with his eyes closed.

Of course, there's a balance there. As quick as he is to joke with me, he's passionate and sweet and as romantic as can be. (He'd kill me if he knew I put that in print.) We're more like scheming cohorts than we are an old married couple, and like a couple of teenagers when it comes to the excitement of seeing each other at the end of a day. All of these "long, long, LONG" years later, my heart still flutters like it did in the beginning. In fact, things are better now than they've ever been. It's safe to say he's stuck with me, and – poor guy – if you asked him, he'd tell you that's about as "mean" as it gets.

And every bit as lucky. Safe to say we'll both attest to that.

Back to Wyatt and Mattie, I think it's equally safe to say their take on Valentine's Day pretty well sums up our personal stance. Here's a snippet of their interview:

Cupid: Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Mattie: Just one. If he wastes a bunch of money on flowers for Valentine's Day, he's dead. He's supposed to express his undying gratitude for me because he can't help himself, not because the calendar says he must.

Wyatt: Let me translate. I'm not on the hook for Valentine's Day - I'm on the hook EVERY day.

All I've got to say, Wyatt, is when you've got it this good, that hook isn't the worst place to be. ;c)

Readers, if you'd like to check out the full interview to see what the fuss is about - not to mention get an earful of the type of fun you can have with a ten foot pole - click here.

AUTHOR BIO: Sarah wrote her first novel in 2008 because she told someone she couldn't. Her first query went to Noble, and the rest, as they say, is history. While the thought of writing fiction initially intimidated her, it has morphed into a favorite pastime since her characters, unlike her kids, actually listen to her … most of the time.