This past Friday afternoon, I was minding my own business, running errands, and pulling out of the gas station (don’t get me started on gas prices!), when my cell phone rang. Imagine my shock when it turned out to be neither my husband nor my mother (the only 2 people who ever call me on my cell phone) but my Kensington editor’s new assistant.

Here’s a little aside, which any authors reading this entry already know: authors LIVE for contact of any sort from their editors and agents. One author whom I know intimately and shall remain nameless, obsessively checks her e-mail dozens of times per day for news of any sort from her editor or agent. Each time this poor, misguided soul clicks on her inbox, she desperately hopes for news such as: has the editor/agent read the blurb/proposal/manuscript/synopsis yet? Does the editor/agent love or hate it? Has the editor sent the check yet? Has the agent received the check yet? Has the … Well, you get the idea. Since the publishing world works only slightly faster than an Alaskan glacier, 99 times out of a hundred, there is no news.

But this time, there was news. And in a phone call, which is so much more thrilling than an e-mail.

Here’s the news, which I really hope I heard correctly, since I was juggling the phone, driving, and trying not to cause an accident when I heard it:

My editor has accepted my second book for Kensington/Dafina, RISK (at least I think it’s still called RISK, although I was too excited to ask if they’ll change the title), and it will come out in February 2007.

Now, I know this may not be as earth shattering as, say, oil prices, but it’s big news to me. First of all, it means I won’t have to scramble to write another book ASAP, which I would’ve had to do if my editor hated this one. And there’s a whole new batch of deadlines, marketing and promotions for me to figure out and address. And, of course, there’ll be a new book cover, which I hope will be pretty.

I’d like to blog more about this life-altering news, but I need to check my e-mail and see if there’s any more word from my editor/agent.

If you have time, check out my other blog, where I gush about Karen Robards’ new romantic suspense novel, VANISHED. Here’s a link:

http://www.blogitorium.com/annchristopher

No one has ever, to my knowledge, accused me of being cheap. Oh, sure, I spend more than my fair share of time at Target, but hey? Who doesn’t? (This is not, by the way, a paid endorsement, but if anyone from Target is reading this … call me, okay?)

Where was I? Oh, yes. I like bargains as much as the next person, but if a girl needs the occasional pair of expensive strappy shoes or, better yet, the fabulous seasonal purse, who am I to judge? Vacations and dining out? Same thing. Books? Please. Sometimes a little money must be spent.

Except … when it comes to my advance money.

Writers, as you know, get an advance when they sign book deals. Bill and Hillary Clinton got something like eleven and eight million dollars, respectively, in advances when they wrote their memoirs. My advances, and you’ll have to trust me on this, have not been anywhere near those amounts.

Maybe that’s why the money is so precious. And anyway, who knows when there will ever be any more money? What if I’ve already signed my last, best, book deal? What if my books don’t sell well, and my publishers come looking for me and ask for refund checks? That’s not supposed to happen, but who knows?

No, the best thing to do is hold on to the money. For as long as possible.

In theory, advance money for newbies should best be used for promotions, and to cover the necessary expenses (conventions, computers, printers, postage, and the like) that come with the business.

Promotions I understand. I’ve gotta have a web site, and I want a nice one, so I was happy–well, willing, anyway—to pay for one. Same with magazine ads, which are CRAZY expensive, and bookmarks, which are like business cards.

But necessary expenses … that’s where it gets dicey. What’s NECESSARY? I’ve done lots of soul searching over that one, let me tell you, and here’s where my heretofore-dormant miserly gene kicks into overdrive. A new computer with a really cool screen, I’ve discovered, is not necessary. Ditto with a laptop. A bigger desk with more arm room? THAT was necessary. Same thing with my wonderful laser printer. Romance Writers of America’s annual national convention? No question there.

Every potential expense is worth hours of scrutiny. A travel drive as an additional way to backup my precious manuscript files? Well … … okay. A twenty-dollar laminated wall calendar that shows the whole year and allows me to see all my deadlines at a glance? I’m sorry to tell you I walked out of Staples once and Office Depot twice before I finally sucked it up and made that major purchase. Printer paper? Do I really NEED paper? Do I really NEED to print?

Obviously, I’ve developed a serious problem. I hardly know what’s happened to me. But until Major New York Publisher comes knocking on my door offering me a million dollar advance, I’m going to be counting every penny.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret: writers love chocolate.

I know, I know. Everyone loves chocolate. But writers REALLY love chocolate.

Why? Because it soothes our poor egos, which take constant, brutal beatings in this business. A nice, fudgy brownie can work remarkably well as a restorative after a writer has received the umpteenth (insert one here) editor rejection letter, agent rejection letter, low contest score, unenthusiastic critique.

A piece, or two, or a box, of Godiva chocolate can give a writer the courage to face that blank screen, wrestle with those slippery words, and meet those omnipresent deadlines.

Am I advocating eating as a mood regulator? You betcha. In this one instance, I am. Don’t tell Oprah, okay?

Of course, the occasional, off-use consumption of chocolate is also okay. I, for instance, may have indulged in eating a couple, or twenty, chocolate Easter eggs today.

Is that wrong?

Happy Easter!

How good a proofreader am I?

I’ve been asking myself that question all week, ever since my new best friend, the FedEx man, dropped off my latest package from Kensington books: the galley proofs for my July debut novel, TROUBLE.

The idea behind galleys, as I understand it, is to catch all those little bitty, itsy bitsy typos that have thus far escaped me, my agent, my editor, and my copy editor. This is not the time to rewrite the book, although I’m sorely tempted because it’s been about eighteen months since I’ve tweaked it, I’ve learned a lot since then, and I think I could do a better job if I gave it a major overhaul. Nor is it the time for major changes, so, if I made a mistake on, say, legal research, I’ll just have to suck it up and live with it. At this late stage of the game, I’m allowed to change “in” to “on”, or to add a missing “the”, or to catch misspellings.

No sweat, you say? Not so fast.

I’m detail-oriented, and a good proofreader. How hard could it be to catch little errors?

Really hard, and I’ll tell you why. I’ve been reading and writing this story since late 2001. I know it inside and out. My eyes and brain self-correct whatever mistakes may be there on the page. Worse, this story has worn me out. Every time I see the names Mike and Dara, my eyes glaze over. How much more blood, sweat and tears do those two characters want from me?

Still, I’m working really hard on the galleys and giving it my best shot. Why? Because, as always, I want to do the best job I can. And it’ll drive me crazy for YEARS to come if I let a typo slip by me.

I have about 150 pages left to proof, and I hope my eyesight holds out. Wish me luck. And for goodness sake, if you buy TROUBLE and discover a typo—DON’T TELL ME. I beg you.