Many thanks to my blog and Twitter followers who participated. You’ve got awesome blogs and I enjoy reading all your posts!

Drumroll please…

We have a winner of the personalized autographed copy of Paige Shelton’s If Fried Chicken Could Fly.

Huge Congrats go to:

TheMadGayMan

I’m going to shoot you an email with all the details this afternoon (look for an email from kourtney.heintz@yahoo.com), but just wanted you to start thinking about how you want the autograph personalized.

Thanks for participating!

I’m hoping to have a few more contests throughout the year. So if you didn’t win this time, there will be a next time. I promise.

Today Grandma H and I went on our weekly outing. I needed to drop off two snail mail queries for agents at our local post office.

Grandma hates parking. She pulls in and goes “Uh-oh.”

There’s a freaking oil truck taking up four spots. Luckily there are two spots open. I point to them and say, “There’s two spots.”

Grandma pull into both spots. Literally. The middle of the car is on the line between the spots. I look at her. “I didn’t mean take two spots. You should have picked one.”

She shrugs and cuts the engine. “Just go mail your stuff.”
****

A while later, we are driving down the main road, Wolcott Road, and she sees signs that say Road Work Ahead.

“I’m not going that way,” she says.

I look down the road. “The roadwork is on the other side.”

“I don’t care.” She puts on her blinker to take Sharon Rd.

There’s a guy in front of us and we have a green light but it’s a left hand turn and there is oncoming traffic. He edges up. She edges up. He turns and she is right on his butt. I see the oncoming traffic and gasp.

“I saw them. We had enough time.”

I mutter, “We always do when it’s my side of the car.”

She says, “I’d have swerved into a car to save you.”

“Great so we’d be hit on both sides.”

She starts laughing.

As we pass a field on Sharon Road, she tells me, “A man committed suicide there 80 years ago.”

I ask, “How did he commit suicide?”

“He was having an affair with the neighbor’s wife.”

I ask, “He committed suicide while having sex?” This is a kinky story.

She shakes her head. “No, I’m telling the story from the beginning.”

“Ah. It would have helped if you said that.”

*****

We get to the mall and go to Olive Garden. There’s a line and the prices are higher than IHOP. So we go to our place, IHOP.

I order the above which is “Green Eggs and Ham” and is part of their The Lorax related specials. I loved Dr. Seuss.

So I tell her, “I’m having green eggs and ham.”

She looks at it. “So you are. That’s like the Dr. Seuss books I used to read Paulie.”

“Yup.”

“I think I read them to you too.”

*****
Grandma H has a coupon that when she spends $25, she gets 2.50 off the bill at the grocery store. So we go over. We get the items she needs but they tally to $18. So I show her Chobani yogart 4/$5.

“What flavors do they have?” she asks.

“Strawberry,” I say.

“Your aunt can’t have seeds.”

“I thought these were for you.” Strawberry is her favorite flavor. But I switch to selecting flavors for Auntie.

“What else?”

“Blueberry?”

“No.”

“Vanilla?”

“Okay.”

“Mango?”

“Okay.”

“What’s that lemon one?”

“Pineapple,” I say.

“I’ll take it.”

“Should I get another vanilla? You need four.”

“What happened to the strawberry?” she asks.

“You said Auntie couldn’t have that.”

“That’s for me. Two are for her, two are for me. And I want the strawberry.”

“Okay.” I grab it and add it to her cart. Our total comes to 24.18 after the $2.50 discount.

*****
Last weekend it was the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, we saw my aunt at the cemetery by his grave. We pulled in to see her and Grandma H was sitting in the car. Grandma H saw us and leapt out.

“Your grandfather died today. Five years ago.”

I nod.

She waves toward his gravestone. “Go Pray.”

I look at her. She knows I’m not Catholic.

She dissolves into giggles and doubles over.

My mom looks over. “What’s going on?”

Grandma H and I are giggling like kids.

“Nothing I say.”

Grandma H chuckles and gets back in the car.

Quick reminder The Free Book Contest entry deadline is tomorrow at 7 AM EST. Click here to enter to win a personalized autographed copy of New York Times Bestselling Author Paige Shelton’s book, If Fried Chicken Could Fly!

Onto the Best Rejection Letter…

Sometimes you get a rejection letter that makes you want to send air kisses to the agent. Or at least hug a tree in their name.

On my current manuscript, I get a lot of “not for me.” Maybe it’s the topic, maybe it’s the query, maybe it’s the writing. And maybe, it just doesn’t fit their tastes.

I’m almost immune to the not for me. It’s like getting chicken pox over and over again. You learn to live around it.

Anyway, to my complete surprise this week I got a very kind, very personalized rejection on a partial.

I’ve deleted names but this is what the lovely lovely agent sent me.

Hey Kourtney!
I really like your writing and the story idea…so intriguing and it really draws you in.
However, my boss is on my back about having too many unpublished authors. So, I’m sorry to say that I can’t take this project on at the moment. I don’t at all mean to keep you waiting, but I’d be happy to see this sometime down the road if you don’t have an agent for it.

Agent X

This rejection actually gave me an infusion of hope. That is the coolest thing an agent can do when they reject you.

I really appreciated this rejection letter. So thanks to a stellar agent who took the time to let me know what was working in the story.

Paige Shelton’s If Fried Chicken Could Fly is a delicious romp in the former wild west town of Broken Rope, Missouri, with a cast of absolutely engaging characters that you are dying to spend another book with. I’d jump in my car and roadtrip to Ms. Shelton’s Broken Rope any day.

From the back cover: “Isabelle ‘Betts’ Winston loves teaching the secrets of mouthwatering country food in her hometown, Broken Rope, Missouri–famous for its past of outlaws, knife battles, and hangings. But now an all-too-current murder threatens the start of the tourist season…”

I love how Ms. Shelton took a traditional mystery, tossed in cowboys, missing gold, and a modern day treasure hunt and then added an unconventional pinch of attraction between Betts and the ghost. Blended it to the tastiest treat.

I had no idea who the killer was until the end. Luckily, Ms. Shelton crafted a fast-paced mystery that I devoured in three nights so the wait was bearable.

All the characters are 3-D. I especially enjoyed Betts’ unconventional grandma, Grams/Missouri. She is a pip whether lecturing Betts on how to deal with seeing ghosts, stuck in a cell for a murder she didn’t commit, or dodging Bett’s questions about the treasure hunt that may have led to murder.

There are also several recipes from Ms. Shelton at the back of the book. I’m trying out her fake fried chicken this week.

If you like a dash of paranormal in your mystery, this is a not to be missed read!

I liked it so much, I asked Ms. Shelton if I could give away an autographed copy here. And she said YES!

ONTO THE FREE BOOK CONTEST…

The prize: A free personally autographed copy of If Fried Chicken Could Fly by Paige Shelton, a New York Times Bestselling Author and National Bestselling Author.

Contest rules:

1) You must have a U.S. mailing address to enter the contest. Any new and existing blog and/or Twitter followers can enter.

2) Follow my blog (Kourtney Heintz’ Journal) for one point.

3) Follow me on Twitter (@kourhei) for one point.

4) To enter, comment below telling me your total points and the names/handle you follow me under. Make sure to include your email address in the comment so I can notify you if you win. (Note: You get one entry for each point.)

5) Enter by Thursday February 23 at 7 AM EST. That’s 48 hours from when this post goes live. Then the contest closes to submissions.

I will randomly select a winner. The winner will be notified via email and announced on Friday’s blog.

Good luck!

When someone dies, it’s natural to mourn them. To grieve the loss.

To remember the best of them.

But to pretend they were never human. That they never made mistakes. That is an atrocity.

Don’t deify the dead.

They weren’t saints. They didn’t shit gold. And no one should try to rewrite them into perfect beings.

Let them go. Faults and accomplishments. They can both be spoken of. That is what it means to be human and to pretend they were otherwise does no good for anyone.

Don’t deify the dead.

There is no need to make a public spectacle of the mourning process. Cry in the privacy of your own home and feel a loss without a camera capturing every precious second of it.

Don’t deify the dead.

This is what I thought my draft looked like before I started revising. I thought every work counted. That every scene was as streamlined as it could be. That the manuscript couldn’t be tightened.

This is what it actually looked like. Way too many words. Some did very little. Some nothing. Throw away words and sentences. Even scenes. Gasp. I’ve cut 2000 words and I’m only on p.140.

Epiphany #337

You are only as good as your critiquers, your writing classes and your self-editing classes. If your critiquers all say your work is good. Maybe it is. Maybe it is ready. You can query it.

But after several rejections, maybe you might want to find someone with more experience to weigh in. I’m not saying hire an editor, but maybe ask a pubbed friend to look at the first chapter. Because whatever mistakes you made there, you made throughout the whole book. And the fat you didn’t trim away there is everywhere else.

I’m guilty of it. Every time I come back to a manuscript I thought was amazing, I am slammed by new issues. *Doink* I thought this was good? *Gasps and blushes* How did I miss this?

I’ve heard people say writers never finish books, they abandon them. But I’m wondering when will I know to let it go.
How do you ever know that a manuscript is ready?

Since I was a teenager, I have been in love with China. The culture, the history, the language.

Everything about China enamored me.

Even the politics intrigued me.

In college, I minored in Chinese and spent a summer abroad in Beijing.

It was more than I dreamed possible.

It became my first love. Trumping other passions. Even boyfriends.

I dreamed of working and living in mainland China. Of surpassing proficiency in Mandarin and becoming fluent.

But circumstances prevented me from getting back there. A back injury that didn’t allow for overseas travel.

A life altered by one accident.

But I remained faithful. I loved China. I promised myself one day I would go back there.

And maybe even move there.

Dreams are beautiful like that. They give you something to hope for. Something to strive for. Something better than today. Even if it always remains in tomorrow.

A few years ago, my world changed again. A brilliant doctor gave me an artificial disc in my spine. Suddenly, my spine was healthy again. I could travel abroad again.

And I planned a summer trip to China. On the horizon. A definite possibility again.

I practiced my Chinese. I read all my guidebooks and I returned to my first love, China.

There were some wonderful moments on the trip. There were some really awful ones too.

I had to face the fact that China and I had changed. We weren’t the same as when we first fell in love.

It was not the place I visited 13 years ago. I was not the girl who climbed dangerous sections of the Great Wall.

I no longer wanted to live and work there. I no longer dreamed that dream.

I’d fallen out of love with a dream that sustained me for two decades.

It left a void inside. A place that may not be filled for a long time.

Falling out of love with a dream hurts.

But I’m grateful for the dreaming. Because I got to see China. I got to speak Chinese. The dream gave me so much.

I will mourn that dream like an almost fiance.

So head over to NascentNovelist’s blog and show Martine some blog love. I’ll be popping over there throughout the day to respond to comments and questions.

Confession time. This is my worst nightmare. Having to walk into a crowded room and start up conversations with strangers especially if they know each other and I don’t know any of them.

Whenever I get invited to parties, I bring a friend. I need that buddy/wingman to help me walk in and navigate the night. But conferences are something I have to do alone. Gulp.

I get social anxiety. Severe sweating from every pore in my face. Heart racing. Mind blanking. Attack of I have nothing to say.

And then I think everyone will see me by myself all awkwardness and socially exiled.

Logically, I know no one cares if I stand alone, but in my mind they do. My uncomfortable factor creeps closer to 10.

So with all that going on in my head, how did I navigate not 1 but 2 conferences in January?

By not letting this thought pattern take control. Or at least it did but in a tiny nook of my brain.

I don’t like feeling so stressed about networking. I want to have fun. I really do.

But this is me. Nervous nervous overthinking everything. I require planning to be comfortable. So I create coping strategies before the event. Ways to ease my social anxiety and allow me to be the best me at the conference.

Before each conference, I went on Twitter and tweeted with another attendee (Thank you @agwickedspirits at WDC and @veryceleste at SCBWI) Just knowing I knew one person in the room helped.

At WDC, I met up with a blogger buddy and hung out with her the whole first day. (Thank you Emmie Mears) Having someone to sit with during the first couple panels allowed me to get comfortable. Having a buddy to chat with and ask how I was doing made me feel so  not alone throughout the conference. Emmie was a beacon of light at the WDC conference.

Whenever I felt nervous, I reminded myself that everyone is there because they write and they want to work on their book and hopefully get it published.

That gave us a common goal we all wanted to talk about. All I had to do was approach someone, smile, introduce myself, and ask, “What do you write?” That was how easy each conversation began because everyone wants to talk about their book.

And when that petered out, our name badges said where we were from. So conversation starter #2 was right there.

By having a way to get the conversation started, I wasn’t in my head freaking about what to say while that period of not talking stretched into unbearable.

I had a fun conversation with the writer beside me at SCBWI. We had an upcoming free lunch period. I decided to be brave and ask her if she wanted to get food together. I got to have lunch with the amazing Kat Bender and found a wonderful new writing buddy.

I’m not going to say it was easy, because frankly I was totally outside my comfort zone. But I considered every conversation a success. Some led to new critiquing buddies, some to new bloggers to follow, but all in all I connected with people. And that was the goal.

From my experiences, I put together these general tips on how an introvert can extrovert at a writing conference (I’ll be referring back to them before the next conference.):

1. Try to connect with people online before the event. On Twitter, follow the hashtag for the event. That way you feel less nervous walking into that crowded room on the first day.
2. Try to meet up with people you talked to online about the event. It gives you something to do and helps you meet cool people in person.
3. Smile, approach, and ask what do you write? People like to talk about their passions and everyone at a writing conference enjoys writing.
4. While in line, make conversation with the person in front of or behind you about the food/venue/speakers. Everyone has an opinion and they want to share it.
5. Have exit strategies for when the conversation peters out and before you start to feel awkward, like I need to go say hi to X, Excuse me I have to powder my nose, or I’m going to get more food.
6. Have your business cards on hand to swap. That way you can build on the connection you made.
7. Be yourself. Don’t try to be anyone else. Acting is hard work and you can’t really connect if you aren’t being you.
8. Make sure to build in down time at night. You need to recharge your batteries for the next day of socializing.

Hot Property is the second book in Jenna Bennett’s Savannah Martin mystery series.

Here are my top three reasons to read this book:

1) The chemistry between Savannah and Rafe is off the charts and had me squealing at 1 am.

2) Ms. Bennett makes you feel like you are wandering the streets of Nashville with Savannah. This woman writes good setting.

3) Mystery is one of Ms. Bennett’s strengths. I wasn’t sure how this one would shake out until the heart-stopping end.

Maybe it’s because I went to Killer Nashville in 2009, but I loved how she brought the city to life on the page with just the right level of detail.

Ms. Bennett does a phenomenal job merging the romance and mystery genre here.

Rafe Collier and Savannah Martin smolder the pages. I’m surprised I don’t have burns on my fingertips. Seriously, fantastic chemistry and tension. I would sit through 200 pages of them just having dinner. Because they are that amazing to read.

There are elements of suspense as well that keep you turning those last 100 pages faster than a microwave can explode chicken.

If you love a good mystery and enjoy a dangerous flirtation that could break into a killer love scene at any moment, this is a book for you.

I’m looking forward to cracking open the third book in the Savannah Martin series. Or rather swiping the page on my Ipad.