I debated back and forth for the last two weeks whether or not I wanted to write a post about jealousy. After all, who wants to admit they’re jealous of someone? (And I am the tiniest bit worried about backlash.) One of my personal goals for this year is to step out of my comfort zone so I decided to take the plunge and admit something I’ve only stated out loud to my sister. I’m jealous of some of my fellow writers.
I’m not jealous of their successes, their sales, their 5 star reviews, when they announce a multi-book deal, or when they’ve signed with an agent, or even a big six publisher. Or even when they post a picture on Facebook of the new BMW convertible they bought with their royalties. No, I’m jealous of all my fellow writers who…write full time and don’t have to work outside the home.
I’m jealous of the few hours of uninterrupted time they have once they send their children and/or spouses off to school and work. And envious doesn’t even describe how I feel on the mornings where I have to risk life and limb driving to my day job in terrible weather conditions. Many times throughout the winter season, I wish I could hibernate like a bear and not leave the house if there’s more than an inch of snow on the ground. I had an accident a few years ago during a snowstorm where I hit a patch of ice and spun out, hitting a guard rail head on. Thankfully, I was only going about 30 mph on the highway at the time due to the weather conditions so I wasn’t injured but it scared the crap out of me and I dread driving in the winter now.
Remember the winter storm that hit the mid-west and northeast at the beginning of the year that closed airports and caused numerous traffic accidents due to ice, blowing and drifting snow, and white out conditions? Yep, I had to drive to and from work in that. A normal twenty minute commute turned into a white knuckled, tension filled hour and a half commute both ways. So you can imagine how my jealousy level ratcheted up when I read a status update on Facebook cautioning everyone in the path of the storm to be careful which was very nice but was ruined by what followed. The person then continued on by saying she hoped her commute would be a good one too…that she hoped she didn’t spill her coffee as she carried it down the hall to her home office to start work on her new novel.
I’m jealous of those extra eight hours a day they have to work with to schedule writing and promotional time while I’m stuck punching a clock for someone else. Don’t get me wrong, I like my job for the most part. And until I can write full time, I’m glad I have the job I do and not one I dread going to every day.
But to be able to write full time instead of trying to squeeze in an hour and a half of writing time in when I get home from work before it’s time to start dinner…that would be…well, words can’t describe how wonderful that would be.
Going slightly off topic, I’d like to announce my debut novel, Impetuous, first published in 2011, has a new low price of $2.99. Pick up a copy and see how jealousy plays a role in the book.
Mateo de Montayas, an impoverished Spanish count, comes to England to recover a stolen family heirloom and to satisfy his hunger for revenge against the man who destroyed his family. Arriving in London, he learns his hated enemy died three years before but has left behind a daughter. What better way to retrieve the heirloom and exact revenge than to use her to his advantage?
Teresa Darlington will do anything to keep scandal away from her frail mother and prove her father wasn’t a thief, even risk her reputation in a race to find the missing heirloom before the Count does. But she didn’t count on falling in love with the man determined to ruin her family. Can she find the heirloom before he does and protect her family, or will her heart lead her in a different direction?
With one last prayer, she hoisted herself up and through the window. A surge of adrenaline flowed through her as she realized she was in one of the two libraries the Marquess of Kingsbury kept well maintained. Elated that her memory had served her correctly, she wandered around the room, her hand trailing over the many bookshelves. If she could remember the layout of each townhouse on her list as well as she did this one, getting in and out of the houses would be one less worry.
Her hand on the doorknob, she took one last look at the window. Once she left this room, escaping without detection became even more dangerous. The handle turned beneath her hand. Stifling a startled cry, she backed away from the door. Hide! her terrified mind screamed. She raced toward the window.
As freedom loomed in front of her, a hand clamped around her arm and dragged her back.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Her body went limp with relief as Montayas’ deep tones filled the room. Yanking her arm free with a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she moved closer to the window. “I’m trying to protect my father’s reputation just as you are here trying to ruin it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play the fool with me. I know you’re searching for the Pequena. How can you threaten to expose my father as a thief when your property isn’t even in his family’s possession?”
Montayas glanced toward the door. “Be quiet.”
“You’ll not silence me. I want the answers I should have demanded when you first voiced your ludicrous accusations.”
He clamped his hand over her mouth. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered, pulling her into the shadows of the heavy brocade curtains. He glanced out the window and then back at the door.
Voices. Teresa heard them now. Still indistinct but louder.
Montayas gave her a warning look then removed his hand from her lips and positioned her in front of the window.
She struggled against his grasp. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
With one quick shove, he pushed her through the opening.
Barely suppressing a scream, Teresa fell through the air and landed on her knees with a soft thud. The short fall stole her breath. Thankfully, the thick grass of the formal garden had acted as a cushion.
Seconds later, the count joined her on the lawn. He grabbed her hand and ran toward a small copse of trees. In the leafy shadows, he turned to face her. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
“Me?” she shrieked. “I didn’t just push you out a window.”
You can purchase a copy of Impetuous at:
At the age of four, Katherine pestered her mother to teach her to read. From that point on, she spent the most of her childhood lost in the pages of one book after another. Soon she began writing stories of her own, populated with characters doing all of the things she was too shy to even contemplate doing herself.
A chance meeting with another author led Katherine to seriously pursue a writing career. Her debut novel, Impetuous, was released by The Wild Rose Press in August 2011.
Katherine lives in upstate NY with her family though she threatens to move south at the beginning of each winter season.
Visit her at http://katherinegrey.blogspot.com