Digital Book Giveaway

It's almost Christmas! And I've realized that, while I have the whole first chapter of my novel available to read for free (here's the link), I have nothing like that for my non-fiction book. I don't necessarily want to put up a big sample because it's quite short; however, I would like to do something to give it to more readers.

So all through the rest of December 2019, send me an email mentioning this post to deanna [dot] skaggs at gmail (you get the idea, just remove the spaces and brackets and put a period in between my first and last names) and I'll send you a free digital copy of my latest book, Silence and Boldness: Finding Freedom through Trust. No strings; I just wanted to have the chance to share it with a few more readers this winter. And don't worry, I don't have a newsletter or anything, so you won't suddenly start getting bombarded with emails.

If you'd still like to get a hard copy of either of my books, they're 40% off at this link. 

Merry Christmas!

Print Copies & Digitals Arrive

The reality of a writer's life: formatting your manuscript for the digital edition while making dinner, getting the email that the first step of the approval process for that edition is underway while on lunch at work, coming home from work to a package containing the new batch of printed copies of your latest book, blogging about your book while making dinner after work. Yeah, life goes on--you just have to fit the writing in between it all. The food, too, always fit in the food.

I got my proof copy of my latest book, Silence and Boldness, in the mail a couple weeks ago. But that was kind of just to make sure it looked alright; the big batch of them is where the excitement begins.

Even though I didn't really write this particular book to try and turn out profit (my plan is to mainly give it away) (not, of course, to imply that I wouldn't like to turn a profit, just that that isn't my goal with this one), it's still fun to set out several copies of a book with your name on it and just enjoy the moment. I give you a glimpse at my desk, too, for the fun of it.

For all you ebook readers out there, the digital edition is now available from Lulu. It will be on all the other major ebook sites later, but you can get it there right now (the digital is $2.99). And paperback and hardcover copies of both my books are still currently 30% off, if you're interested.

My New Book: Silence and Boldness

I had something I needed to do, something I needed to say. I worried that it wasn't significant enough to bother about. I worried that it wasn't enough to make a book out of. I worried that I didn't even know how to go about editing something like this.

But ultimately I knew that what was most important was simply getting it out. It is my second book, which is not my second novel (the novel remains a work in progress) as I thought it would be. Yet here it is. Ready for it?

From the back cover: 

In this fallen world, sometimes darkness is all we can see. But there is more. The light of our Creator and the beauty of his Creation are enough to tear us out of our chaos. Here is the story of stepping forward and allowing God to give strength and hope. Centering all thoughts on him brings the great freedom we crave. Seeing his love provides context for all that life brings. Here is the story of how I found both silence and boldness, each with their place in my life.


It will be available at all the major online retailers like Barnes & Noble and Amazon in a few weeks (and I should be getting the digital edition out soon, too), but you can already get a copy from this link. To celebrate the release, it's at 30% off right now (hardcover and paperback copies of my novel, Black Tree, are 30% off right now, too, if you'd like to get both).

And even though this is a different type of book, still it's exciting to now have two in print books of mine:

Surprise? Writing Update

Surprise, I have a short writing project that'll be coming this month. More on that to follow. I only bring it up now not to tease you on it but to describe the effect its completion has had on me. Even though I wrote the first words of what will be my second novel (that is, not the short project coming up) four years ago, I haven't added to it at all in a year. I couldn't.

I had this other thing I needed to do first--and it wasn't until I got around to that one that I could go back to the novel. So today I did it, I went back to it. I should've known writer's mood was brewing when I looked to the refrigerator for a pickle and pickle juice (what? I haven't had pickle juice in years) and then to the freezer for ice cream that had been in there so long I had to scrape the ice off the top (I'm not an ice cream person). (And no, I'm not pregnant. That is not the only reason to feel like eating weird things. Sheesh.) Soon instead of the usual Spotify I've been relying on for music, I turned on Lacey Sturm and Flyleaf loud on my headphones and started free writing all over the floor.

My free writing is weird. That's the definition of free writing, though, isn't it? Just words that pop onto the page, no coherence. And yes, being on the floor is essential to the process. How anyone can do worthwhile writing in a chair I don't know. (No offense to the I'm sure many writers who write from chairs; it's just a joke.) My thoughts started turning to the setting of that long-abandoned book. So I traded out my free write notebook for the manuscript notebook. And I brought out the candy; candy is also essential to serious writing.

It's so hilarious looking at passages that I wrote years ago. So many of them seem like I wrote them this year. Looking at them, I literally can't believe that I didn't write them this year except for the fact that I know I didn't and even if I didn't, they have the dates written on them. (Putting dates on all your writing is something I highly recommend.) Maybe this is also why I had to leave this piece sitting for so long. Partly because I needed to get around to that other project, but also because I needed to catch up to a certain strain of thought that I was writing before I was even aware of it.

Anyways. I feel like I'm back in time, back to when I was writing full time on my first novel. I mean, I won't be writing full time on this one, but the act of being with it reminds me of that time.

Looking Still

Still water on the surface,
clouds of thoughts pooling.

Silence makes the breath move,
words make the heart stop.

Sneaking out of my veins,
things that I regret.

Smiles let each new day come,
but the days past aren't forgotten.

I'm looking still at what came before
because I want it still to be.
I hate my every mistake
and I love my every victory.
I'm looking still behind me
because I want to take pieces of the past with me into the future.

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry for what I did when I couldn't breathe.

I'm sorry for what I said when I couldn't see.

Did I let the chaos out?

Now you see why I need to contain the chaos.

The stars only shine by burning, but we only love their shine because we forget that they're burning.

I'm sorry I let you see me burn.

I burn best in silence, where you can't see me.

The Water

The water has changed. Perhaps.

I don't have a fear of water. But I don't like aquariums, that sort of thing. Even the fish tank sections in pet stores can be a little uncomfortable to be around. So it took me a little while to make it over to Odysea Aquarium.

There were likely a variety of factors involved (one being that their tanks are newer and cleaner than some and also better lit and smaller than some), but the tanks didn't much bother me. A little . . . but then it faded. I worried before getting to certain sections that I thought would be bad . . . and then wondered why I'd been worried.

I think I've mentioned that water is an element in my next book. So I'd thought that if I ever went to the aquarium, I might even want to bring a notebook to get some material. But there was nothing for me to write down.

Which, in fact, is quite fitting. Like most symbols, water has two sides: the good and the bad. Water is life and water is death. Like how red, for instance, is both love and hate. It's that flip from one to the other that I'm trying to explore in this book. Maybe that's why I haven't been working on it lately: I needed to flip myself before the theme could.

Roses Walking

There are roses walking across the earth,
Their blood is dripping red.

Petals scatter,
Thorns fall.

Brambles take hold,
Tearing and trembling.

Roots rip the ground,
Seedlings spring up.

Roses rise up in beauty,
and then shrivel.

The dried rose petals are the most exquisite of all.

Writing Progress

It's an exciting thing to print out a draft for the first time.

I didn't think I was at that stage yet; I thought I was going to write up more first. Then I just felt like I needed to print it all out to be able to do more. After all, I do have a beginning, some early stages, a tiny bit of the middle, and an ending (maybe not the end end but some of the end). Time to take a step back and see what I have in order to be able to see what I need.

Having printed out said manuscript, I read through it all yesterday. Some of this I wrote months and months ago and have barely looked at since. So it's a strange sensation to suddenly see it physical--and to see that it does work toward a whole. Sometimes I've felt like I've really been letting this latest book drag. But there are pieces of it that I could only have written at certain specific times. When I was writing the beginning, for instance, I only knew the beginning; I knew nothing of the rest. Later, I started to get the pieces that I was missing.

In fact, I was missing so much that I expected, when I read through it all, to find a definite tone shift halfway through. I was expecting to find incongruence that I'd need to fix. Surprisingly, though, I didn't find much of that. Instead I just find gaps that I need to fill in more (which I already knew I'd need given that this is a complete-but-not-complete draft). I did write one scene twice--and it's quite different each time. I mean, I wrote the same scene for Black Tree two or maybe even three times because I thought I hadn't written it yet (and then I ended up not even using it; it might actually work better in this new book, though, strange enough). That scene was mostly the same each time that I wrote it. Not the case for this current one. One version is definitely better as far as theme and character go, but I do love the setting of the other version--so I might have to just keep the setting and figure out what scene is supposed to go with that setting.

And I realize that I'm missing a scene that I remember writing. I write in a couple of different notebooks (one is more for when I'm free writing, but that often turns into content that I can use) and occasionally on loose paper (I type it all up later), but I can't find that scene anywhere. So a little bit of organization is necessary, I suppose.

Anyway. It's been a while since I did a sale for Black Tree. So let's call it an Independence Day sale for 40% off paperback and hardcover copies at this link.

Thoughts on Jane

"My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world; almost my hope of heaven. He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for His creature: of whom I had made an idol." - Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

This is one of those quotes that lingers on to me. It makes evident that the problem with Jane and Rochester's relationship at first was not just Bertha: Bertha is the physical manifestation of the problem rather than simply another character, another person. Their relationship only became equal and based on the right foundation after their separation.

Reading Lacey Sturm's latest book started putting this quote back in my head--as did typing up some scenes for the book I'm working on right now.

I don't know how I can claim to know anything more about love than anyone else does, but love is one of those things that people talk about so often in seemingly the wrong context. That is, they use the word when they're not really referring to love at all.

This was something that I appreciated about Ashley Eckstein's book, too: in talking a bit about how she met her husband, she talked about love as being something that you work at. Love is giving, not sensation.

Sure, when you love someone, they start to fill your thoughts. But the thing is, you can't put so much pressure on a person that they become the most important thing in your life. Jane put all her thoughts on Rochester, tried to let him be her redemption. She put the world and the material above the eternal. If she tried to look at Rochester in this way, he was bound to fail her. And she was bound to fail him.

People don't save you and you can't save people. That comes from elsewhere--and realizing that also helps us realize that we are all part of that creation of which Jane speaks--and then that helps you to see the intense value in every person.

What It Feels Like to Start Writing Again

I've been telling everyone that yes, I have started work on a second book. The reality, though, is that, while I do have a decent start at that second book, and while I do think about it frequently (which is part of the work of working on a book), it had been months since I had added anything visibly significant to such book.

A few days ago, I started up again. And I can feel the change.

I can feel it physically in my wrist. Nothing irks my wrist more than writing with a pencil (a Sharpie, for instance, is okay--I do a lot of writing with Sharpies these days, but I guess they're fine because they're thicker--so maybe I need a thicker pencil). Yet I prefer to do most of the early stages of writing with a pencil. The later stages can be done on a keyboard. But there is something . . . less visible about working with a pencil on paper; it's an effect that frees me to write out words in a sort of free write style, to be unconcerned with what I am putting out. Later on you can remove or change whatever needs removing or changing, but at the moment you just need to write down whatever comes--because the process is what breathes whatever needs to be brought into existence.

I can feel it in my mood, too. Jubilation mingles with sitting on the edge. I felt free when the other night after being unable to sleep I got out of bed for a free write and then returned to bed feeling a sense of weightlessness. But I feel . . . caught up when I think of the issues this book will be bringing up: I have to feel emotions and themes in order to write them. So here I am, perfectly happy (well, you know, on average), trying to stir up feelings practically of a mid-life crisis. I can be sitting inside of my skin and then suddenly jump into my mind into this other skin, this skin I'm making up, and feel so caught up in that other skin that I in fact do start mingling that life with my own (which is dangerous territory to fall into, I realize).

What else do I feel? Pleased. I've been letting these "early stages" of this next book drag out rather long. It feels right to know that I'm finally starting up at it again and that when I tell people that more will be coming, it is true. Maybe it would have been better to get a second book out close on the heels of the first, but I think that the more time elapses between the two, the more I will realize how I can make improvements. I'm realizing certain things that I didn't do with the first book that I can do with this one, certain things that I held back on before that I don't need to hold back on this time.

I am free and I am taken because my veins have started to bleed words again.

Title & Cover Reveal: Black Tree

Eight years ago I wrote the beginnings of this novel, without even realizing that those words would eventually turn into a novel. I was aiming for a short story but quickly realized that whatever I was writing was bigger than just a few pages--so I let it sit while I slowly added to it during my college years, awaiting the time in which I would be able to devote more focus to it. That time came and I finished my book and now it is at last in print. So now I bring to you my book, Black Tree:

           To stare at the ocean and yet to crave the desert. To leave home to wander endlessly across the land and yet to be glad. To watch heartache fade away with the new rising of the sun.

            To see the greatest depths of despair outlined in the very sky and earth—this is the fate of three women unalike in all ways except in their struggles. Abigail is the youngest, Julia is the oldest, and the third has neither age nor name. Their place is the past and the present and the future, and their landscape is the Southwest, which they hold in dearest regard.

            But to love the land, will that save them or will it be the thing that holds them back from life?

As this book grew and developed, I wanted it to be something Southwestern unhindered by genre constraints. Don't get me wrong, there are great Westerns out there and wonderful books about the West, border issues, questions of race and culture, and such. But I wanted to present my Southwest--the book that I wanted to write in the setting that I wanted to place it. And my book has nothing to do with these usual Western or Southwestern topics. It's like when you see a delicate and pretty painting of a cactus: it isn't in the usual Western style of art and yet it shares the visuals. It belongs to the same world but is its own genre.

You can buy my book now at lulu.com/spotlight/deannaskaggs. It will also be available on Amazon and other sites in a few weeks, but I will be honest with you here and explain why I ask that you purchase straight from Lulu instead: I receive a much lower cut if you buy the book from other sites. There will also be hardcover and digital versions coming, if you prefer either of those; I will let you know as soon as those are available.

And remember, my author site is deanna-skaggs.com.

Thank you so much for letting me share this debut with you, and I hope you're as excited as I am.

Procrastinating

What do I do when I don't want to write a paper? Blog about nothing. Consider this my attempt at Post-Modernism, if you will.

I have written an amazing one and a half pages out of a total of about five and a half. The bad thing is that it is 5:42 in the evening and this paper is due tomorrow morning. In my defense (since of course I must make a justification) is that tomorrow I have this paper due along with two final projects and their written defenses. The first of the final project pairs is done; the second project is almost done, with its written defense on my agenda for tomorrow. But I still have four more pages to write tonight about Paradise Lost.

I had meant to hang around campus for at least a couple of hours after class today, writing away. But it was cloudy today and the wind and the cold were growing, so I came home and wrapped the first Christmas present to go under the tree instead. Wrapping presents is much more fun than writing papers.

Now I sit at my desk and still find reasons to get up. Oh, it's time to turn on the light. Oh, I have to go get my power cord. My, but my fingers are cold. How am I supposed to type if my fingers are cold? So I go get my blue "Bella" jacket (yes, it is the jacket), deciding that ought to cheer me up. I pause to choose new music. I decide I can take the time to look up synonyms for words. I double check something on the assignment. I spend more time than necessary looking through my notes and secondary sources. I take another sip of the strange writing drink I have this time, Mayesa's Cacao Mint (which is rather good).

Then I write a couple of sentences. Then I check what length I'm at and recalculate how much I have left.

Then I wish that I could just extend my fingers at the laptop screen, hum, and see my thoughts all perfectly typed out. I have an outline, so why can't it just write itself?

I decide that looking up what percentage of my class grade this paper is worth might give me some motivation. It's 20%. Oh, that's not that much, I say to myself. I guess that didn't work.

But it's okay. I have six hours left before I go to bed: that's plenty of time to write four pages.

I'm Not a Very Good Rebel

As soon as I caught up from my "I'm more behind in reading than I've ever been" state, I had two midterms (for which I would actually have to study, though I usually do fine without much studying) and two papers within eight days. The last paper was due tonight, so the plan was to write half of it yesterday and the second half today. But I was just so exhausted yesterday that when I sat down (more than once) to write, I just couldn't. It just wasn't working.

So I decided to rebel--I departed from my desk and watched Netflix while lying on my bed instead. I called it "recovering" and promised that I would work diligently on the paper the next day (today).

But when I got home today around one, I still didn't want to work on that paper. So I took the time to slowly finish a movie I had started, have lunch, and then watch some YouTube. I believe I was mentally making faces at the paper, thinking I was better than it because I was refusing to work on it. I didn't get out my notes to begin until about five o'clock. But I told myself that was okay: I could take an hour per page and still finish with two hours to spare before the due time.

I wasn't finished pretending to be rebellious, though. I made some coffee, poured it with a flourish into a teacup, served a square of almond toffee on a dessert plate, and started brushing on lipgloss at random, often intervals (I don't really wear this gloss much anymore--I never much liked lipgloss and now that I have discovered the superior Revlon Just Bitten lipstain and Burt's Bee's tinted lip balm, the couple of glosses I have sitting around have been officially neglected). I used these three elements as my "inspiration" to begin. Then lo, and behold, I finished the paper in less than three hours.

The verdict? That twenty-four hour time that I took off must have allowed the ideas to properly stew in my mind. And slight distractions actually aid in writing. I've talked a little before about either eating or drinking (as in coffee or tea or hot chocolate or acai juice, of course, nothing other) while writing, or listening to music. It's quite true, as well. Instead of actually distracting, I find that little things like this help me focus, ironic as that may be.

Oh, yes, and I've learned that I am a terrible rebel. Seriously, coffee, toffee, lipgloss, and Netflix? (And it was even black coffee, not some sugary concoction.)