Bell Bridge Books

I write fast.

My career is built on being able to crank out a novel a month. Yes, you read that correctly, a novel a month.

Is this a good thing? Well, it sure helps pay the bills.

Are the novels any good? My fans and readers seem to like them and the reviews tend to back that enthusiasm up.

Can they be better? Ah. There’s the rub. Can they be better…

The quick answer: yes.

The long answer: of course, but it has absolutely nothing to do with the timeframe in which I write those novels.

You see, even if I was given a year to complete a novel, I’d probably still write it in four weeks. That’s my style, that’s my groove.

That’s where the editor comes in.

When I finished Stone Cold Bastards and turned it in, I thought I was done. The other publisher I work with would have put the manuscript through some rigorous proofreading for typos and grammar and all that jazz, but they would have trusted that the story itself was solid and off it would go to the printer and to the ebook formatting elves. Nothing wrong with that. I write tight, so I’m comfortable with a quick turnaround.

Except every manuscript can be improved upon and SCB was certainly one of those manuscripts. I know, I know, how can you improve on a novel about a ragtag team of misfit gargoyles tasked with protecting the last of humanity from the demon-possessed hordes that have taken over the world? I know, right? That’s perfection in a nutshell.

But SCB needed tweaks. The characters needed better motivation. They needed to care. They needed to want to survive and/or help others survive. They had distinct personalities, yes, but so what? That’s where the editor steps in and helps turn a good novel into a great novel.

I fixed those characters. I made them care about others and about themselves. And in doing so, I made the reader care about them too. I wouldn’t have seen that flaw if it wasn’t for that extra editing. I would have moved on to the next novel and forgotten all about SCB. But the skill and experience of Bell Bridge Books, forced me to take another look at the manuscript. And another. And another. Until it was just right. Until it was the novel it was supposed to be, not just the novel I turned in.

In these days of self-publishing and the race to get novels to market, I think many writers forget the value of a good editor. For me, I never knew the value until I experienced it. Now I’m spoiled.

Yes, I’ll still write fast. I won’t deviate from my novel a month pace because that’s the writer I am. But it makes things easier, it takes a little bit of the load off my shoulders, knowing that the novel I produce at the end of that month can still be made better and I don’t have to go about that task alone.

All thanks to the editor.

About the Author:

Jake Bible, Bram Stoker Award nominated-novelist and author of the bestselling Z-Burbia series, short story writer, independent screenwriter, podcaster, and inventor of the Drabble Novel, has entertained thousands with his horror and sci/fi tales. He reaches audiences of all ages with his uncanny ability to write a wide range of characters and genres. Other series by Jake Bible: the bestselling Salvage Merc One, the Apex Trilogy, the Mega series, and the Reign of Four series. Jake lives in the wonderfully weird Asheville, North Carolina.  Connect with Jake on Facebook, Twitter, and his website: jakebible.com

IT PROBABLY HELPS TO BE A FEW FRIES SHORT OF A HAPPY MEAL

A few days ago, I came across some notes I made while plodding though the literary landscape in search of an agent who would represent my debut novel, EYEWALL.  The notes were compiled in 2009 – a couple of years prior to EYEWALL’s publication.  I had no recollection of making them, but there they were.

What they were was this: a compilation of comments agents had made about the manuscript, both pro and con.  I assume I kept them to remind me to focus on the positive remarks as opposed to the negative ones, since I tend to be a glass-half-empty kind of guy instead of a glass-half-full one.  In other words, I needed an antidote, the “pro” comments, to ward off the poisonous effects of negative reviews.

If you’re a published writer or are looking for an agent, then you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you aren’t, then what follows will provide a little insight into what authors face as they trek along the winding, unpaved road to publication.  In my case, the road turned out to be ten years long and strewn with four different manuscripts.

If nothing else, a review of the comments I received serves as a vivid reminder of how TOTALLY SUBJECTIVE the endeavor of assessing manuscripts is.  And I know this from both sides of the aisle now, since I occasionally judge writing competitions.

So here we go.

According to my notes, I lacked genuine talent as a writer.  One agent said she was “not that impressed by the writing.”  Another dissed my execution as “a bit dense and overwritten.”

Time for a big swallow of my antidote.  “You have a gift of description which is lushly depicted,” declared one agent.  Another pointed out: “Your language in descriptive passages really impressed me.”  Okay, perhaps there’s a glimmer of hope for me.

I apparently had trouble kick starting the story, however.  One agent pointed out the first two chapters were “not compelling enough.”  But another told me, “Very nice writing, especially the first chapter.”  Hmmm, maybe I sent out two different manuscripts.

Then there was the issue of driving the drama forward.  “More slow-moving than I’d hoped,” one reviewer complained.  Another griped, “The details get in the way of what should be more fast-paced and gripping.”

Happily, there was an opposite assessment: “Starts off fast paced right from the beginning.”

The body blows were relentless, however.  Agents were “not sufficiently engaged; not sufficiently enthusiastic;” or found the tale “a bit predictable.”

Thankfully, there were always the counterpunches to keep me going: “Great and timely concept, one with clear marketability,” and “you write well and deserve an agent with the time to properly represent you.”

It took me another year before I found such an agent.

In the end, I’d have to say the pro comments were more on target than the cons.  EYEWALL went on to become a number-one best seller on Amazon’s Kindle Store.

That’s just the kind of goofy business this is.  It’s a game with only self-defined rules, amorphous boundaries, and no referees.  One that’s both fun and terribly frustrating.  To play it, you have to be tenacious, thick-skinned, and probably a few fries short of a Happy Meal.

Pick up EYEWALL by H.W. Buzz Bernard today for just $1.99!

St. Simons Island, Georgia, has never been hit by a Category 5 hurricane. Until now.

No one predicted the storm’s sudden force. A crippled Air Force recon plane, trapped in the eye of a violent hurricane. An outspoken tropical weather forecaster, fired from his network TV job before he can issue a warning: the storm is changing course and intensifying. A desperate family searching for a runaway daughter on Georgia’s posh St. Simons Island, cut off from escape as the hurricane roars toward them. A marriage on the rocks; an unrequited sexual attraction; a May-December romance. All will be swept up by the monster storm.

Get ready for a white-knuckle adventure.

And don’t forget to grab H.W. Buzz Bernard’s other great Bell Bridge Titles as well!

About the Author:

H. W. “Buzz” Bernard is a best-selling, award-winning novelist.

His debut novel, EYEWALL, which one reviewer called a “perfect summer beach read,” was released in May 2011 and went on to become a number-one best seller in Amazon’s Kindle Store.

PLAGUE (“One of the best thrillers of 2012″–novelist Al Leverone) came out in September 2012, and won the 2014 EPIC eBook Award in the suspense/thriller category.

SUPERCELL (“Races along with the speed of a twister”–novelist Michael Wallace) was published in late 2013 and became a best seller on Kindle as well as the winner of the 2015 EPIC eBook Award in the suspense thriller/category.

Buzz’s fourth novel and third in his “weather trilogy,” BLIZZARD (“A terrific book”–novelist Deborah Smith) was released in February 2015. It led to his nomination for a 2016 Georgia Author of the Year award.

CASCADIA (“heart pounding”–Reed Farrel Coleman, NYT best-selling author WHERE IT HURTS) hit the market in July 2016.

Before becoming a novelist, Buzz worked at The Weather Channel as a senior meteorologist for 13 years. Prior to that, he served as a weather officer in the U.S. Air Force for over three decades.  He attained the rank of colonel and received, among other awards, the Legion of Merit. His “airborne” experiences include a mission with the Air Force Reserve Hurricane Hunters, air drops over the Arctic Ocean and Turkey, and a stint as a weather officer aboard a Tactical Air Command airborne command post (C-135). In the past, he’s provided field support to forest fire fighting operations in the Pacific Northwest, spent a summer working on Alaska’s arctic slope, and served two tours in Vietnam. Various other jobs, both civilian and military, have taken him to Germany, Saudi Arabia and Panama. He’s a native Oregonian and attended the University of Washington in Seattle where he earned a bachelor’s degree in atmospheric science; he also studied creative writing. Buzz currently is vice president of the Southeastern Writers Association. He’s a member of International Thriller Writers, the Atlanta Writers Club and Willamette Writers. He and his wife, Christina, live in Roswell, Georgia, along with their fuzzy and sometimes over-active Shih-Tzu, Stormy.

Buzz’s Website can be found at www.buzzbernard.com.

If My Life were a Romance Novel

By Brittany Shirley

I am constantly reading, editing, and rereading romance novels. I love them, every part. The hero. The heroine. The mushiness. The difficulties. That bewitching moment when he looks at her and finally realizes this is love. They are amazing. Some are set in the past, the future, a different dimension. They all have those wonderful sections that make me keep reading. I am fortunate enough to be able to get paid to read them. While editing is one of the smaller portions of my job, it is also one of the most enjoyable. I was chatting with the lovely Deb Smith the other day. I told her something that I heard from others: “Oh, Brittany! The right guy is out there for you.” That was unsolicited consoling. I did not say “Oh, I am so lonely.” Or “Wow, I wish I had a boyfriend.” None of those words came out of my mouth. I made a joke about my  “future husband.” Apparently that got people thinking I was lonely right now. The truth is at the ripe age of _____ (because I am not going to tell you my real age), I have plenty of time to get married. But, as I am telling this to Deb, I have a thought: what if my life were a romance novel, and this is just the opening scene. Now, I am a huge fan of all books, but I love a good romantic tale. It’s what I read, and it’s what I edit.

So in my dream world, my life is a romance novel (how exciting is that?). I have a weird childhood. I go to college and graduate on time. I am the Type A student. I have tons of friends, good friends. I date some good guys. There are relationships that just don’t quite work but end on good terms. I date some bad guys that break my heart (so far, Check!). All in all, I am that average girl. I make mistakes, but my life is ordinary. Until one day!

One day, I am at the grocery store. I see a cute boy. His eyes crinkle when he smiles. He is chuckling because I am stretching but I still can’t reach the ketchup. Why do they have to put it on the top shelf anyway? He walks over, grabs the bottle of ketchup, and hands it to me. WOW, ketchup guy is really gorgeous. I say thank you, but it is probably barely audible. He smiles, says you’re welcome, and walks away. I am standing there in awe of what just happened. I snap back to reality and continue to grocery shop.

A month later, my best friend, Danielle, sets me up on a blind date. The guy is super nice and a doctor. We will call him, Bob. What he lacks in communication (so not a talker), Bob makes up in his choice of venue for the evening. We go to a cooking class. I love to cook. LOVE to cook. This is a perfect place for a date: we can talk, but silences won’t be awkward because we will be cooking. There will be wine. Yay, finally a man with taste! I start to question whether Danielle put him up to this or if he is just that awesome. We are partnered with another couple. The man is out of the room when we begin. We make small talk with the girl. She is a little older than I am, but she is one of those natural beauties that doesn’t need make up. She also has the flirty, shy quality that I will never have. I am loud and opinionated, and shy isn’t exactly an adjective that could describe me. EVER. I try not to hate her as I crush the garlic for the risotto. That is when I notice that my doctor date is staring at her. Not just a slight glance to check her out. He is full-on, jaw-dropped staring. Now, I do hate her. I can’t wait for her date to get back so mine will stop. While this is not number one on my list of worst dates, it certainly is not my best. Her date finally comes back after everyone has already started sautéing the garlic. She gives him a glare that could melt the ice in the Arctic. Even I feel bad for him. Then I see his face. I can’t breathe. It is him. It’s the guy from the grocery store.
“You’re the ketchup guy!” I blurt out. Bob looks at me like I am crazy. But I am not crazy. I didn’t ruin our date, he did. So ketchup guy chuckles and his eyes squint. “Yeah, that would be me. I rescue ladies from top-shelf ketchup disasters.” I giggle. Which, if you know me at all, is NOT something I do. Girly girls giggle. I laugh, guffaw, and snort while doing so. I don’t giggle. Maybe it’s the wine. Bob has stopped looking at anyone and is concentrated on the food.

All of the sudden, ketchup guy starts sneezing and coughing. His face is beginning to swell. To me, it looks like an allergic reaction, but I am no doctor. Bob looks at him and tells the instructor to call 911. No one has an Epi Pen. Then I remember I have Benadryl, the byproduct of my reaction to perfumes of any kind. I dig in my purse find the bottle, and shove a few at him. He has to swallow them with wine. Eventually, before the paramedics show up, he turns a normal shade of pink as his face is no longer swollen.

The paramedics arrive and look him over. They deem him well enough to forgo the ER. I turn back toward my date who has been chatting with super flirty, shy girl. I roll my eyes and hope there is a twenty in my purse for a cab. It looks like Bob and Sarah (I heard him call her that) have other plans. Yay, me! I can save a life and lose a date all in the matter of three hours.

    Ketchup guy walks over to me while I am drinking my fourth glass of wine. I am getting a cab anyway, I might as well enjoy myself.

“Hi, my name is (insert future my husband’s name here). I wanted to say thank you for saving me an embarrassing trip to the ER. For that, I am eternally grateful.”

“You’re welcome. My name is Brittany.” I say in what I hope sounds like a sexy voice.

I can totally tell he is laying it on thick, but I let it slide. He almost died for goodness sake. Well, had to go to the ER. Then, I find myself flirting. I have not done that in a while. Bob barely spoke on the ride here, except to introduce himself. Ketchup boy tells Bob he will take me home, and that Bob should probably take Sarah home soon. The kitchen is closing. He winks at Bob and walks back over to me. I didn’t even know people my age did that. It is pretty attractive.

I don’t exactly argue, but I do ask, “Why do you assume I will just let you take me home? I don’t know you. The only thing I know is that you have an allergy and you can reach ketchup.”

But I do let him take me home. He asks me for my number. I give him every number except for the last. I write down a math equation. If he can figure that out, he is definitely a keeper. And he does.

We date, fall in love, and are genuinely happy. There are arguments. We fight. There is tension.

One weekend, he surprises me completely and takes me to an Opening Day game.  He proposes to me at a Busch Stadium in St. Louis (The Cardinals are my favorite baseball team). We get married in a sweet, Southern ceremony. And every year, on my anniversary, I call Danielle to thank her for setting me up with Bob. Because without Bob, I would have never met my future husband. Bob married Sarah, so all in all. Everything worked out for the best.

While I lucked out with a gorgeous guy (in this romance novel), that is not even close to how I admire men (I mean YES, I love the way they look). But, hey, I was attracted to Bob ( which is all I need). He was cute. But Bob blew the date, and I landed my ketchup guy. J There is something magical about how people fall in love. About how they find themselves complimented by another. About how they spend the rest of their lives in love. Yes, love means fighting, tension, anger, and threats of poisoning their favorite food. But the story and the look in a person’s eye is so enchanting. This is what my life would be like if I got to pick how I would meet my future husband. But I don’t think I can write a story as captivating as real life and true love.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all!