What a Difference a Year Makes ... in the Company of Strumpets

Tough to believe it’s been a year since I kicked off the blog with my first post celebrating our right to bare arms and manly firmness. Where does the time go?

Some of it’s gone into renovations here on the blog. We’ve changed the name and adopted a new identity as Strumpets – which has been loads of fun already. We’ve participated in Brenda Novak’s auction and given away a prize package including a Kindle and a copy of each of our books. We’ve gone to innumerable signings and conferences and festivals, and we’ve all made long strides in our respective publishing journeys.

Time has moved forward, and it’s taking us all with it.

As for me, the one-year mark offers me a chance to get recommitted to my writing. Last month was a thirty-day trial by fire for me. My day job collapsed (a couple of times), my little feline family faced some health crises, and life as a single romance writer threw some major curve balls at me. By the time the month ended, I was exhausted. I couldn’t summon the energy to knit words together into coherent sentences. The idea of writing anything sexy – hell, anything pleasant – felt foreign. Unwieldy. Out of reach.

I didn’t think of quitting altogether. For me, writing is like blinking. If I’m awake, I have to do it, even though it doesn’t feel like I’m getting much of a return. I did, however, think of leaving romance behind. My writing had dried up, leaving behind the sort of desiccated husks that, well, very few people find erotic.

Then I went to The Porches with fellow Strumpets DeniseGolinowski, Sofie Couch, Elvy Howard, and Leah St. James. I’m going to spend more time on my blog describing the place, but for now, let’s just call it Heaven on Earth for writers. (Click Sofie's link -- her pictures are already up.) One weekend there was like hitting the reset button. A brief respite from real life was all I needed to rehydrate the scorched earth that had been June’s body of work. I came away from The Porches with nearly 10,000 fresh words, including an essay on June From Hell, and a shiny new story idea to take up in the near future.

I’m grateful for the escape from reality, but getting away doesn't matter as much if you're not running with the right people. My crew of Strumpets, there in the country and here in cyberspace, offers me a safe spot to renew my creative promises and reconnect to my creative energy. And so here, on the Fourth of July, at the one-year mark, I want to express my gratitude. I’m so happy to be with this group of awesome writers, and I’m thrilled to see where this process of growth and evolution takes us next.

As long as we’re not moving beyond the need for bare arms and manly firmness. That kind of progress leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth. (That's what she said.)

So what’s this year done for you? Let me know what’s up in the comments.

**Alexa Day usually shows up on the first Wednesday of the month, but her blog anniversary fell on a Thursday this month. That’s her story and she’s sticking to it. You can keep up with her on her blog, on Facebook or on Twitter. She thinks you should try Facebook, where her friendlessness reminds her of high school in the worst possible way. Her book, Illicit Impulse, is a Night Owl Reviews Top Pick. You’ll find it on sale at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other e-book retailers.

National Night Out

National Night Out 2012

Wednesday was National Night Out.It is the annual event, when neighborhoods across the country stand against crime. A time when communities get together and commune - be neighborly and get to know each other. Neighbors set up tables and covered their tables with edible treats. Even policemen and firemen showed up to show their support for the event.That was great, but during it all I planned a murder.

The sweltering and oppressive humidity made each step feel like twenty. Sweat dripped down my brow. Gray clouds marred the evening sky. At first, I mingled; I spoke about the neighborhood's lack of vermin, trapping squirrels and large snakes; I discussed the sounds of sirens. With a lull in conversation, I said my goodbyes and headed to the next spot in the community. It was there that I discovered someone I could question about what I'd been dealing with all day: how do I kill someone without it being suspicious.

This was no typical lady-gossip, as one woman, overhearing my question, blared her eyes and cut her gaze to mine. I was in the murdering business and needed my facts to be plausible and straight. Finding such a source, I couldn't risk not asking for the sake of curious ears.

But the thought of cold handcuffs being slapped on my wrists made we flap my arms like a riled up chicken until I got  the eavesdropping  woman's attention. "Oh no," I said. "I'm an author. I'm not really trying to kill someone."

She visibly relaxed. I could almost imagine elation oozing from her shoulders for her civic duty was negated and the threat of someone calling the police on me was now over. 

It only took sixty seconds for my potential conversation to land me in more than hot water. On Wednesday,  I learned two valuable lessons. If you're going to talk about murder, have a business card; and, make sure your crowd of listeners know that your crime is only in the name of fiction.

 What did you do on National Night Out?

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Tina Glasneck is the writer of the suspense novel, THOU SHALL NOT. She loves creating unique three-dimensional characters and story with grit. She blogs on W3 on the second and fourth Fridays of the month. You can also follow her on Twitter: @TinaGlasneck and connect with her at her Facebook fanpage.