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5 Things That Surprised Me About Publishing a Book
Having spent thirty years in public relations, I believed myself fairly savvy about what it took to make things happen. Then I got serious about writing. I had been warned that publishing a book wasn’t for the faint of heart. But a few other aspects of the writing life took me completely by surprise.
Lesson One: While attempting to finish a book, your loved ones may think you’re crazy. Scratch that, they may believe you’re in need of an intervention. While spending hours (days? weeks?) with a fictional character may seem like heaven to writers, family and friends won’t understand this compulsion. You may try to explain to them why your hero needs tender, loving care and why your heroine requires so much attention. But don’t expect a lot of empathy. In particular, husbands only know you aren’t downstairs with them watching Dr. Who on the television and that dinner isn’t being made. And the laundry? Well, who has time for that?
Lesson Two: If you write romance, you have friends. The generosity of the romance writing community continues to astound me. My first encounter with this community was at the RT Booklovers Convention in St. Louis about two years ago. I went alone and didn’t know a soul. By the end of the event, I’d been asked at least one hundred times what I wrote, when my book was coming out and where they could find me online, not just by readers but by other writers.
Since then, other writing friends have spent countless hours helping me figure out why a scene isn’t working or why a character’s motivation is coming across so muddled. These fellow authors have shared marketing secrets (a generous act unheard of in the business world). They’ve introduced me to their publishers. They have shared my promotions through their networks. All of this has been done without even asking for it.
Lesson Three: Writing is a full-time job. Contrary to the vision of someone spending leisurely days thinking, dreaming and scribbling in a notebook, authors are the most time-pressed individuals you’ll meet. Besides getting words to paper, they spend hours on their author platform and promotion. They must develop a social media presence, engage in constant promotions and never, ever stop learning about writing. I was used to long hours in my PR career. But since taking up this second job of writing, these eyes have seen the clock turn two a.m. more than a few times.
Lesson Four: Expect to develop “book butt.” Staying in physical shape is hard. Before writing, I spent hours each week on the elliptical machine at the gym and jumping around at dance classes (and cleaning the house, playing with my dog and taking walks). Now? I sit. For hours. In front of the computer. I gained ten pounds in the last eight months, most of it settling in the posterior region. (Perhaps a stand-up desk in in order?)
Lesson Five: If you think your book will take three months to write, it will take six. I thought I was fast. That notion was killed with the drafting of my first novel, Lovely. You know how building contractors say a renovation will take X number of weeks that turn into X number of months? Yeah, like that. Just when I thought Lovely was ready to ship off to my publisher, a critique partner found a major plot hole. Then, there was the muddled character motivation. And, what about that completely-unrealistic-never-could-happen thing on page 182? The next thing I knew, eight months had gone by.
Still, I wouldn’t give up being a writer for the world. If I tried, my head would explode from unwritten stories — and Husband still wouldn’t have a TV-watching companion. Ooo, is that a character calling me? Gotta run . . .
Lovely
(Elite Doms of Washington Series, Book One)
by Elizabeth SaFleur
Blurb:
Congressman Jonathan Brond has mastered his work, his reputation and the art of sexual domination while keeping his family’s political legacy intact. But a chance encounter with college student Christiana Snow promises something he didn’t think was possible–meeting someone honest.
When the charismatic man proposes a summer of sensual, sexual submission, Christiana leaps into his world—the antidote to her bland life.
But Washington, D.C. is an unforgiving place; soon gossip and scandal threatens their relationship. Yet, in a town of players, sometimes introducing a new game is the only way out. Who knew love would be the winning plan?
Available for purchase at
Excerpt
The cold ladies’ room reeked of antiseptic. Thankfully, it was empty. She leaned against the marble sink. She had gotten out what she needed to say, even if she witnessed legislative aides parting like the Red Sea when she and her father walked in. Even if she had to endure getting her father back to the car after he turned brash, spitting Jim Beam on his targets. Even if she had to see Congressman Brond’s expression harden and feel the very air around him close up like an umbrella.
Christiania pressed a wet paper towel to the back of her neck as she rested her forehead on the marvelously soothing tiled wall. The pricks of light stopped dancing and her heart slowed. It was time she and her father headed home. She shouldn’t care what people thought.
She turned and took a last check in the mirror. At least her make-up behaved. She pushed open the metal door and stepped into the hall, steeling herself for the extraction process. No matter what her father said or how loud he grew, she would get him to the car.
The tap-brush sound of feet on marble steps echoed through the deserted hall. It was him. Even his footfalls exuded confidence.
Congressman Brond appeared in front of her before she could duck away. Without a word, he encircled her waist and steered her into a room across the hallway. He caged her against the wall inside the door. His green eyes reflected how he felt about what had happened upstairs.
Christiana hated that look of pity.
Should she protest him stealing her away or apologize for her father’s behavior?
Cupping one side of her face with his hand, his thumb moved slowly over her bottom lip, releasing it from the nervous clasp of her teeth. She gulped, startled, as his hand grasped the back of her neck. She inhaled his expensive linen and leather aroma. Her mind struggled to catch up to his hold when his knee slipped between her legs and parted them. He leaned into her pelvis.
Her heart pounding, she arched her back to meet his rigid erection underneath.
What was she doing?
His eyes narrowed in response, a little surprised, a little less sympathetic.
She wanted to know what his body would feel like under her hands. Her palms slid, almost as if under someone else’s control, under his jacket until she embraced his waist. His jacket, now parted on either side of her, left only a thin shirt and her dress between her belly and the ridges she felt across his abdomen. She was right about what she’d imagined under his suit. She curled her fingers around his lower back muscles. The congressman’s mouth was on hers before another thought had time to form. Soft lips moved over her mouth. His leg forced further between her thighs, parting them more.
A greedy yearning obliterated her thinking. She never wanted him to break away.
His tongue demanded entrance to her mouth. She moaned as she acceded to his command. He slanted his face to latch his firm lips onto hers more fully. She didn’t know how long their tongues danced or exactly when she lost the distinction between her body and his, but she didn’t care.
He finally broke their kiss but kept his face close. “Lovely,” he murmured.
“Congressman?” Her voice sounded as weak as her knees.
“Drop the whole ‘congressman’ thing, Christiana,” he said, his hot breath moving over her moistened lips.
“Yes, sir,” she said softly.
She could feel his lips quirk into a smile, sliding over hers. “Call me Jonathan when we’re together. At least for now.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. The gentle glide of his fingers teased her skin, until his thumb faltered over her scar. Her legs sagged onto his knee, still firmly planted between them. The urge to rub her ache up and down his quad grew stronger.
“Come with me. I’m taking you home.” He slipped his leg free.
He cocked his head, then smiled in reassurance. “Not my home. Yours.” He grasped her hand.
She blushed like a schoolgirl and hated the naiveté that continued to display every time she ran into the Congressman.
As he guided her through the hallways, the rush of cooler air replacing the warmth of his body did nothing to shake her disbelief at what just happened. He kissed me! Me? She’d never had anyone take her mouth like he had. The taste of his lips lingered on her tongue all the way back to the reception. She wanted to grab his hand and pull him back. Please. Kiss me. Otherwise she wasn’t sure she hadn’t hallucinated the last five minutes.
Elizabeth SaFleur is an erotic romance author who is finally sharing what simmers in her imagination—lots of alpha males, seductive encounters, and love. For many years she lived and worked in her novels’ setting, Washington, D.C., in public relations. In her thirty-year career, she represented or encountered some of the city's powerful insiders. 
Giveaway
Many thanks for having me stop by, Viviana. Publishing has been quite a ride! Enjoy the excerpt above, my friends. I love kissing scenes, don't you?
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