Dreaming 'bout Princes and Agents.

So, whatchya doin’ on a Saturday afternoon you ask?
Oh nothing much.
Just putting the finishing touches on my WIP.
YEP!
It’s, like, 98% all done, done, done.  Which means one more done away from querying!
If you’ve ever revised a novel, you get the done, done, done part.
Done #1 = First draft
Done #2 = Critique Partners have seen it and not laughed at you or pointed fingers snickering “she thought this was good?”
Done#3 = The Betas are reading it and from tweets and texts *crossing fingers* they are loving it!!!
Done#4 = It’s off to the list of dream agents!
Okay, there’s the dream agent who you could equate to landing the Prince of Wales, but seeing how Kate’s already done that and he’s probably a better helicopter pilot than agent … oh heck, you get the idea. If Royal dream agent loves it then glass slippers and kissable toads for EVERYONE!!!!!

Then there are the dream agents who are the Prince Harry’s of the group!  You love them and you’d have a hell of an awesome ride with them, based on research of course, that could leave you dizzy and deliriously happy for years to come. Yep, got them on my list too!  Again, Kissable toads and roller coasters for EVERYONE!!!!

Truly, I love my heir and spare list of agents.

I love that this project is nearing completion.
Of course… that means a whole bunch of new butterflies are about to be released.
Will the heir or the spare love it?
Will they ask me to a ball?
Will a beautiful publishing queen like it and want to ... publish it?
Will this common girl ever…  alright!
 No more royal stuff…
Just a simple answer.
I dunna know.
But for now… this common-Cinderella-dreaming-girl is really enjoying getting all dressed up!   

Shredding Cheese & Writing a Book ... Trust me.

I’m in the third round of personal edits (my definition of edits before I send out the query letters) and that means I need lots and Lots and LOTS of cheese! Usually this cheese is melted over chips and makes NACHOS with bean dip and yummy salsa.  Some writers need chocolate, some need cinnamon bears, some need lemon bars … me I need CHEESE. So you can imagine the stream of bleeped out words that came from deep inside the refrigerator when I went to make Nachos and found NO CHEESE!

Okay, there was cheese but it wasn’t all nice and shredded and stored in an easy close bag. 

I needed my nacho fix because I am sooooo close to being done and moving on to the find an agent phase of this journey.  Also, tomorrow I play accountant so that means no edits, no creativity … not unless I want the taxman to come a knockin’. 

So, the cheese…

I could go to the store, but the only thing that makes me not a recluse is the fact that I have children who force me to leave the house. When they're at school, I'm inside ... with a block of cheese.

How hard could it be to shred a nacho plate worth of cheese?

Off I went searching and in the very, very back of the cabinets I found this…

Yep, an old-fashioned cheese grater!

I cut a wedge of cheese, figured out how to not shred my knuckles and away we went

Rub, rub, rub!

Shred, shred, shred!

My triceps started to burn…

Images of well-toned triceps made me shred harder until the wedge was gone.

Not so bad…

Until I lifted the grater and found only a few flakes of cheese.

WHAT!?!

So another wedge, more burn and … ugh.

Not nearly enough cheese.

Wedge, burn, lift. Ugh.

Wedge, burn, lift.

It continued on and on until… BAM a nacho plate full of cheese.
As the microwave melted my heavenly edit snack I was thinking:
1.       No wonder our grandmas had toned arms.
2.       No wonder our moms weren’t really over weight.
3.   Shredding cheese is a whole lot like writing a book.

Just when you think you’ve put the finishing touches on the thing, you open up the critique partners or beta readers’ comments and realize… not enough yet and go back to shredding.
*sigh*
But one day, one day it’ll be ready and hopefully an agent will open their microwave and say, “YUMMY!!!! I need this book!!!!”

DOUBT....

It should be a four letter word.
It's that U that makes it so perfect.
U.
Doubt.
I do...
Sometimes, I doubt this book will ever be ready.
Sometimes, I doubt that when this book is ready... no one will want to read it.
Sometimes, I doubt what's looking back at me in the mirror.

I doubt.
I doubt.
I doubt.

It's amazing what can happen when the clock ticks at four in the morning.
When the hubby's sound asleep
The refrigerator's humming
And yoUr defenses against doUbt are at their lowest.
I guess that's why there's that U in doUbt...

Why not u?
Why not yoUr book?
Why not grab what God has given U and enjoy the ride?

It's Up to U to figUre oUt how to kick doubt in the teeth and know U are doing what U are sUpposed to be doing...

Writing....

So, hUgs to U and Urself...
Now get back to that MS.

PS. this has been brought to U by the letter U and the number 1 ... because U are... 
just in case you needed to be reminded.

Julia Roberts on Benadryl ... or I could be editing under the influence.

I’ve been kind of MIA the past couple of weeks.
And unlike school, I don’t have to give you a reason,
But what fun would there be in holding back the adventures of Mindy if I didn’t share this with you?

I have a book that I’m currently revising.


I have a cold due to allergies.

I have editing for the book and Benadryl for the allergies.

YAY! Problems solved.

I thought so too, until I put the two together.

Lemme just quote Julia: Big Mistake, Huge, BIG!

The book I’m working on is an Urban Fantasy for young adults. It’s got some ah-ma-zing scenes and some OH-MY-God characters that I’ve been layering the past couple of months. I’ve been polishing and shining and making glimmer ready for my all-time-pinch-me-I-must-be-dreaming dream agent’s query inbox. I really want this agent! I really think I would make a great addition to her catalog of clients … and here’s where the Benadryl enters.

*GASP*

This is probably what you’re thinking:

Oh no she didn’t?
This poor girl did not just say what I think she said.
Did she just QUI??? (That’s query under the influence for all you non-writers.)

Don’t worry.
I won’t keep you in suspense.
You can breathe …
I did NOT QUI.

However, the edits that I did do under the influence ... well, if there were a literary walk of shame I’m still walking home.

So here I am, two weeks’ worth of allergies and a Benadryl hang over, with an even bigger job of revising. To quote another amazing woman (Mrs. CJ Redwine)who is single-handedly inspiring a Jersey Shore type lingo for writers:

I will not be GTL’ing in the near future. (Gym,Tan, Laundry)
I will be RPL’ing for a few more weeks + 2. (Read, Polish, Layer.)

Hopefully the end result will look more like Julia Roberts on date night as opposed to Snookies’ hair bump.

Cross your fingers.

I'm going back in!

Two Reasons...

I was putting my youngest mini-me down to bed for the one millionth time and for the one millionth time my 2 year old mini-me got back up, opened the door and asked, "Watta' mommy."
I took a deep breath, remembered that he was my miracle and walked him, calmly, back to bed.
Kisses good night.
A tuck of the cover.
I shut the door and waited just down the hall for him to open the door ... again.
As I was sitting criss-cross-apple-sauced in my hallway I wondered when this part of his tenacious two's would end.
Did I want it to end?
I mean, don't I want to raise a kid that's tenacious and doesn't take the first 'no' as the final answer?
Isn't that what I'm doing being a writer?

I took a huge risk walking out of the only job I'd ever known.  I was 18 when I started selling Real Estate and here I am, 20 years later, ... a toddler writer.
I know for certain, there will be a first no.
I know for certain it won't deter me.
Maybe, there's an agent sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce in her literary hallway, waiting for me to poke my head out and say, "Wanna read my book?"
Maybe, just maybe, there's an editor in that same hallway, having a carpet picnic with tea and scones who might say, "She's not giving up ... Let's take a look at what she's got."
Maybe ... just maybe.
But for now, the 2year old mini-me just poked his head out and asked for a glass of water.
I think, maybe, he deserves a sip ... and a cuddle.

Dancing with my WIP! WARNING: prepare to tap a toe!

I'm having a bit of a moment with my WIP ... I'm dancing one way and WIP is hip-hopping another.  Howeva' ... for one brief shinning little scene we danced together and this is what it looked like.
READY???
Oh, and that ninja-kick-boxing-triple-flip thingy ... I so can do that! LOL

Inspiration in my iPod

I live and will probably die with my iPod ear buds plugged into my head.

It's true.
I could be the poster child for iPod addiction. It’s a good thing I have shoulder length hair and partial hearing loss in one ear, otherwise my children would think I wasn’t paying attention to them. *blushes and turns down iPod music*
What the heck does this have to do with inspiration?
Here goes…
When I get the dreaded WB – no, not the predecessor of the CW Network— Writer’s Block, I can always cure it with a dustpan, a playlist and one hour.

My mother came over two weeks ago and looked around my house … it was clean … and then said, “I see you had a fit of WB.”

I swallowed a few teenage based remarks, saved my WIP and said, “Yep, how’d you guess.”

“Your floors are mopped. It must have been a bad one.”
If I didn’t both love the woman and fear her Italian temper, something a snarky retort would have produced, I could have found a few choice words myself. LOL
Instead, it got me thinking.

Am I really that predictable?
My WB (sorry no vampire slayer) could be cured?

I knew I used my iPod to get my day going, but if in the middle of the day, usually after lunch, could I cure the always present, post-carb fit of writer’s block.
The next few days I tested my theory and BAM, not only was the house clean, but I was logging in an average of 2000 after lunch words!
Thank you, Steve Jobs, iPod and the shuffle button on my nano!
Now, I just have to figure out a way to derail my husband’s epiphany that we DON’T need a housekeeper.

It's Official...I'm a Writer.

It took a day to sink in...I'm a writer.

I started the current WIP last year, but I wasn't a writer.
I study and cried and revised and cried and revised with my teacher, CJ Redwine, but I wasn't a writer.
I lined up the beta's for the first half of critiques for WIP, but I wasn't a writer.
I built the website, made friends and "connections" on twitter and Facebook, but I wasn't a writer.
I launched the blog, had business cards made up (mom wanted proof I was working), but I wasn't a writer.
I quit the day job in September, but I wasn't a writer.

I donated a bunch of old work clothes to a local charity, but I wasn't a writer.

I set up my office, installed plot boards, time lines, strategies, but I wasn't a writer.

There's a massive excel file that even my left brain husband is afraid to open with the year of my writing life carefully outlined for him, but I wasn't a writer.

All these things and I wasn't a writer until Friday. 

WHAT!!!

Yep, Fridays I volunteer at my 1st grader's library as their class librarian.  Budget cuts to the fine arts program translated to a roaming school librarian that is shared among the several elementary schools in the district.  A note was sent home at the beginning of the year that the kids were not going to be able to check out books from this amazing school library because there was no librarian available. 

I know!!!

Don't get me started on the stupidity of budget cuts and then the confusion that our world "ranking" is sinking like a scuttled ship.

The parents joined together and every classroom now has a parent/librarian.  But that's not how I knew I was a writer.
On Friday, Jacob and his friends were discussing what their parents did for a living.  There were accountants, doctors, firefighters, businessmen etc.  Then it was Jacob's turn. 
"What's your dad do Jacob?"
"He's a Realtor."
"And you're mom?"
"She's a writer."

My heart burst at the seams. I was a writer, my 7 year old said so!!!

My delight pulled at the corners of my lips, but I kept it under wraps. I didn't want to embarass him or make a scene by squealing or spinning around the library like a goof ball. A deep breath, a giddy hand and I just checked out another book for another child.  So many things were racing through my head:

Would I disappoint Jacob?

What if I never sold anything?

Doubt tumbled over What if and....

As I put the little girl's book in the classroom crate I looked at the the author... it was Judy Blume's TALES OF A FOURTH GRADE NOTHING.  It was like Judy Blume was standing in that library with me, smaking me up aside the head herself!!! I was holding in my hand one of the first books I read that made me think maybe, just maybe... I could be a writer too!

I'm Baaaaaack!!!

I know!  You all are sitting there with your jaws on the floor asking, "What the heck is Mindy Ruiz doing here?" 
It's a real simple answer.....
I miiiiised you!!!!
So here's yet another New Year's resolution to add to the mounting stack of sticky note declarations...
I decided that I would do double duty!
MindyRuiz.com is still up and active, but I thought that I would make that a bit more fan based.  Here at MindyRuiz.org, I thought I would keep this blog more dedicated to my fellow writing and reviewing friends.  This blog will be more a place where I can let my hair down, talk craft and trends. We can chat, over coffee, tea or margarita's about what the heck is going on in the publishing world!  Where is everyone on their quest to print or represent. 
Let me start....

Hi, My name is Mindy Ruiz and I'm a Young Adult author.  I am currently in my 9th month of book pregnancy and about to push out a beautiful bouncing baby "THE END" on my first draft of my urban fantasy titled WILD CARD. 
It's taken me about a year from concept to completion for this first draft.  They say your first one is your hardest, and I'd like to say this was my first novel ever penned, but it wasn't.  The first novel was penned in three months, when I was home recovering from experimental chemotherapy, kid less and waited on virtually hand and foot.  Fast forward 10 years, I'm cured of cancer, have 4 boys and am now the waiter instead of the waitee.  Don't worry, I wouldn't change a thing! 
So much has changed in the world!  We have indie publishing and traditional publishing sitting side by side on the eReader book shelves.  Twitter has made the ivory towers of the big houses scalable.  The people in the publishing world are just like you and me.  Blogs and websites and Fan sites and Facebook have taken marketing and flipped it on its head. 
Needless to say, I'm excited!

How 'bout you???

When I Grow Up...

When did you know you wanted to be a writer?  

I think if you ask that question of any writer, they would say, "I've always had stories floating around in my head." The same is true of me.
When I was a little girl I was often accused of exaggerating.

The first elaborate story I told was to my preschool teacher at a Christian school:

"What does your daddy do for a living, Mindy?"

"My daddy fly's airplanes. He's in China right now."                              
Fast-forward three hours to when my daddy picked me up from school and you can cue my teacher’s confusion and the vast number of lessons on why we don't lie.

Life always seemed like it could use a little editing here, a revision of facts there. Some drama or tension should be added to this memory. The look between these two people needs to be told with a little more passion. All of these revisions of recollection just meant one thing...

I was destined to become a writer.

Now when I was little, my father was a preacher and my mother was a social worker. Not so conducive to the imaginative tales their daughter was spinning at the drop of a hat. As time went on, the stories became more elaborate and I found myself in more and more trouble. I could talk my way into mischief and then with a quick cut here and a carefully added adjective there find myself out of the very same trouble. So, when I graduated high school I joined the now family business of Real Estate Sales.

Perfect match, right?
NOT!

It’s taken me 20 years to figure out that just because I was part of a family didn't necessarily mean that I had to be part of that family's business. So, here I am: a little girl who always knew I wanted to tell stories in the body of a woman just trying to publish her stories.
I hope you enjoy my journey.