Happy Valley

At first, I was skeptical about putting my novel on Amazon.com, but I've sold several and have had some good reviews. The reviews are from people I don't know.  My friends are still reading my novel and I'm waiting for their feedback.
Happy Valley A Southern Country Novel is the first in the series. The story is mainly based in Northwest Mississippi.  Happy Valley is a mystery with humor.
"Jo Preston could write a book on survival. Her titles could be: How to Survive Five Years in a Mental Institution, How to Cheat Death, How to Overcome Heartbreak and Rejection, How to Live With Crazy Relatives, or How to Run From a Serial Killer. Yes, she could write a book... if she survives all of the above."

http://www.amazon.com/Diana-Anderson/e/B008FU5U66/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

If you read my novel, please leave a review at Amazon.com.  Thanks!

My Facebook page is: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Diana-Anderson/432120250141271

Now that I've told you about my novel, let me tell you about where I live.  Although I was born and raised in Oklahoma, I've lived in this area of Mississippi since 1979.  My husband and I moved to the country in 2006.  Being raised a farm girl, I was long over-do and ready for the move.
A sign over our driveway reads, "God's Country" and it is a taste of heaven on earth.  I love having my morning coffee on the patio.  I'm never alone.  Many mornings, deer walk between our yard and the woods that surround our home.  Casey, our Jack Russell Terrier, is more interested in the squirrels and lizards though.  We have chickens, which is more of a hobby as most are pets.  However, fresh eggs are good.  We keep a bird feeder in view of our kitchen window as well as hummingbird feeders.  I love watching the blue buntings and have managed to get a few photos of the skittish little creatures.  We have a creek down below our home and when we get a good rain, you can hear the rushing water.  At night, the whippoorwill sing, tree frogs croak, and crickets chirp.  We are so far away from the city that the night skies are lit up with stars, like diamonds on black velvet.  I remember the first few nights after we moved in.  I couldn't sleep because it was so quiet. Now, sleep is wonderful.
Life is good here out in this neck of the woods.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Flower Beds Will Have to Wait

Okay, here I go. My first blog.

I've been searching for a local writer's group and have come up with zilch. Where are all the struggling novelist in Mississippi? One group, I was able to locate, was further down south near the Gulf. I don't think it'd be wise of me to go for a once a month Tuesday luncheon. That's quite a drive. Others don't have a website or much on the website that they do have. It can be rather frustrating trying to get some feedback.

From research on the internet, most of what I'm getting is the Catch-22. You have to have an agent to get published and to get an agent you have to be a published author. (Insert head tilt here.) So it seems, no matter how much sweat you pour out onto the keypad of your laptop while your eyes feel like daggers have been poked into them from the eye strain of working and polishing your manuscript, day in and day out for over two years, it may have been time better spent weeding your flower beds that have been neglected. My flower bed needs mowing.

I try to wake up every morning with a positive outlook. As long as I'm not looking out my window at my flower bed. A pot of coffee and back at it. I've written the darn thing in first person and third person... just in case. I've sent it to several agents and have had one reply. Yes, the old form letter, not for us.

I've tried mental telepathy. Desperate times means taking desperate measures. I've stared at the agents photos on their website at least once a week and try to convince them what a good novel it is. Maybe there is too much aluminum in the building material at their location. Whatever, it doesn't seem to be working.

I'm curious as to what literary agents really do all day. With the Catch-22 thing, it makes me wonder, if just maybe, they spend their days trying to steal established authors from other agents.

I think my manuscript is a good story and I'm very critical of my writing as well as my artwork. I'm my worst critic. I'm critical of the books I read and get frustrated trying to find a good read. You buy a novel and it's really good, so you purchase another novel by that same author and it's a huge disappointment. Seems like they are in a big hurry to sell another and add filler that you end up skipping over. Gotta get that 100,000 word count in. Filler reminds me of minced fish in fish sticks. I actually threw a book across the room after reading three pages. I won't meantion the fairly well known author here, but geez lady, how did you get into the business? I've been known to kiss some ass when needed, but after reading that mess, I'd say a tad more than ass kissing was involved. And it's a shame. Really! What? Are you going to return the book to the store and get your money back? To me, there should be a standard a writer must uphold to all of his or her readers. A high standard. After all, if it weren't for their loyal fans, they'd be history.

It's not all about money. It's not all about fame. That's just the perks. For me, it's really all about someone enjoying my story. I love to make people laugh and cry with a story. I want to touch a heart and encourage the soul. I want to take them away from their weary day, their worries, and travel to another place. A place with characters that are real and dreams do come true.

Am I going to give up? No. It's been a life long dream of mine since I was a youngster. I was telling stories when I starting talking. Got into a lot of trouble weaving those tales. I didn't have books to read when I was very young and didn't have anyone reading to me, but I told myself bedtime stories. And when I was school age, I read a lot. And then I started writing. Married with children put my personal dream on hold. No regrets mind you. My kids are all grown with little ones of their own and now, it's Mom's turn.

The flower beds will have to wait.