The pre-order link for Snakes in the Class is now up! Paperbacks will be available soon but for digital readers, here’s the link. It’s also free on KU. 

What’s my author story? How did I start writing and what are my “qualifications” for writing Snakes in the Class, a monster college romance? Should you take a stab at writing a novel? Read on. 

I come to being the author of the Monster College Chronicles honestly. I’m the daughter of two educators, and the granddaughter of a college football coach and a college librarian. You could say that I learned to walk in the ivy halls of knowledge. Literally since my grandparents lived in a dorm and were dorm parents! To add to this, I was a professor of chemistry for more years than I care to admit. It was fun but COVID pushed me to re-evaluate and I’m now an independent scientist, a feral scientist I call myself, and an author, something I always wanted to be. I’ve written all my life and am a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Until about ten years ago, I mostly wrote short stories. I had two YA novels in a drawer. A fellow graduate of the workshop encouraged me to try my hand at novel writing for adults. I did so in a distracted manner, I had a job after all, looking half-heartedly for an agent while sending copies of my debut to small presses. 

My first novel was about a female scientist in 1872. I wrote because I wanted fictional female scientists represented accurately as whole people.  Continuing in this vein, Snakes in the Class rose from the need to see more gorgons represented in monster fiction. Sure, vampires are sexy but where are the flirty gorgons? 

How did I get that first novel done? I wrote in the mornings and after work. Once it was done, or nearly so, I pestered friends and family members to read it. Thanks to those who did!  I had it copy edited (I paid) and later proofed (I paid). My copy editor was someone who had published one of my short stories long ago. Here she is! I have another friend who started doing this recently. Here he is!

I took an on-line class about pitching a novel. Along the way, my mom died. There’s nothing like this event to tell you life is short. I fully suggest looking for an agent, but I didn’t stick with it. I hadn’t the time. I took out a subscription to duotrope and away I went on my own, approaching small presses. I sent out two versions, a paranormal and a normal version. The normal version was picked up first. The publisher has since closed but I got my feet wet and made some connections.

An uncomfortable visit from a politician prompted me to write a short story, Grave to Cradle. I found a publisher on duotrope. It was later anthologized.

I turned this into Mixed In, an Iowa-based dystopia where all fun is banned and agricultural giants are lurking despots. It was too weird for my first publisher but thanks to the old Twitter, I saw a call for non-zombie dystopias from City Owl Press. We were a match and I’ve been there ever since. Having a publisher is a dream come true. No more paying for copy editing or proofing. They stay on top of trends. 

Do I wish I’d written and published my first novel earlier? Yes and no. 

Yes, because I write more slowly as a mature adult. I can’t just dash off stuff like I used to. Author photos taken a couple decades back would have looked much more acceptable to society, too. 

No, because I had a family to raise and enjoy. Novel writing takes a lot of sitting and anguishing. Alone. 

After breaking your back over your work, you’ll discover not everyone is going to like what you write. Many friends and family will be too busy to read it or not into your type of fiction or fiction at all. You might have a misunderstanding aka a bad review. Or be ignored. Art is distinctly tied to personality. My preferred art hints that I’m open, not extremely conscientious, and slightly feminine. But not all of my friends and loved ones share these traits. I like hanging out with masculine people and conscientious people (in fact, I need them!) and they have different tastes than I do. But for those with my taste who are longing for something to fill that open-mined-ever-expanding big picture brain, I’m here. And you, dear reader, could very well be there for someone else.