Black Ice Read Online Tiana Laveen

Categories Genre: Crime, Dark, Erotic, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
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They had to be good at their job – catch the things I missed because I’m creating, and not wearing an ‘editor’ hat. Editors are an individual choice because at the end of the day, it is a relationship, and we are trusting them with our ‘baby,’ and they are trusting us to do the right thing. They become confidants and so much more. One editor may work well for one author, and not for another. It depends on what both parties want, bring to the table, one’s budget, and how they do business and communicate.

Then, we move on to book covers…

I am a visual person. I know already in my mind, before a book is even written, how the characters look, and I go hard on trying to ensure that my covers match what I see in my mind. I see that book cover in my imagination way in advance. Due to the fact that I’m also a painter and sketch artist, I have a visual art background, I am even more in tune with what I desire for the book cover to look like, and that’s why I am hands on, and 99% of the time, I choose my own cover models and design. After going through a few book cover designers, my first one being a great couple I used to work with at a former job and had volunteered to help me when I started my writing career, I finally got lucky when I saw a post on Twitter years ago from a guy who was in the writing world, and just happened to do book covers, too. I took a chance, and it worked out well for me. He understood my own personalized style.

I am a control freak. I am historically a workaholic and expected the same of anyone I hired to assist me in the portions of this journey that I was not as adept at or wished to receive assistance with due to time constraints. I have always had issues with unmotivated, indolent people, and as in any profession, you find those who are on the same wavelength as you, and others who are not. It didn’t always mean they were not a good person or even that they were necessarily unprofessional; it just meant we were not vocationally compatible. When I say I need something by a certain time, and I make that clear, and we agree upon that, I expect that agreement to be honored. I still have expectations of myself and anyone I work with, and rightfully so – nothing has changed regarding that, but what HAS changed is me forfeiting my well-being to meet certain self-inflicted deadlines.

I had to ask myself, “Why are you killing yourself over this, knowing there is a high probability that you will still be disappointed and jaded about something when it is all said and done?” I push myself to my limit. I try my hardest, each and every time I release a new book, but there is nothing anyone can say to me that trumps what I have said to myself – because I am my own worst critic. I am sympathetic to the plights of people in my profession. I don’t intentionally put out negative energy to anyone, but when it comes to me, I haven’t extended myself the same curtesy. I am downright self-abusive because perfection is unattainable, and abstract. What about my respect for myself, too? I was in charge of that. No one else controlled that but me. Not my family. Not my husband. Not the publishing house that contracted me for a novel. Not my agent. Respecting myself also meant that self-sacrificing needed to stop. Working smarter, versus harder, was the new mission and my life was no longer going to revolve around the next publishing date.

In order to be a better author, I had to be a better person.

A better mother. A better friend. A better wife.

And, it worked.

As I evolve, so does my writing. My style is the same, but my rhythm has changed. I am embracing that change.

Let me let you in on a little secret: Any of your favorite authors who stopped writing didn’t do so because they hated writing.

They stopped writing because the endorphins were no longer as ‘high’ as the disappointment of lackluster sales.

They stopped writing because people complained about paying for their work, or outright stole it because they didn’t respect the craft or the endless hours and sacrifice that went into creating that book.

They stopped writing because talented people are often sensitive, too, and the haters, trolls, or just individuals who are having a bad day and want to bring someone else down to their low vibration, never take breaks or siestas.

They stopped writing because their lives changed, and they no longer had time to dedicate to something that proved to not be as glamorous or rewarding as it once was, or as they imagined it to be.



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