On June 2^nd my son Derrick would have turned 44. This year marks the 8^th birthday I haven’t been able to celebrate with him. And, as you can imagine, this is a hard day for me. This year a few of my friends bought me a ticket to attend a Beattle’s cover band concert. It was a perfect distraction.

I remember being excited about my second child’s birth, dreaming about what it would be like to have a darling little girl to complete my family. My first born, Norman, was a fifteen month old inquisitive boy who loved motoring around our yard on his souped up tricycle.

When my second child was born, I asked the doctor, “Is she perfect?”

To which he replied, “He has ten fingers and toes.”

“He?” I tried to sit up so I could see. “Are you sure the baby’s not a girl?”

“Pretty sure since he’s peeing on me.”

And so, Brianna Denise became Derrick James, son number two. As a boy mom, I loved the idea that Norman and Derrick would be best friends growing up. When I noticed that Derrick wasn’t hitting the same age related benchmarks that Norman had, I consulted a pediatrician. Within a couple of months, Derrick had his first diagnosis of cerebral palsy. Over the course of the next few years, he would receive five other designations, finally being diagnosed with autism at the age of eight.

As Derrick’s first birthday approached I remember thinking: He was perfect until he was born.

Every year, this sentiment would haunt me right before Derrick’s birthday. Of course, other thoughts piggybacked on this main theme. What would “normal” Derrick have been like? Would he have been smart? Would he have chosen a car or a truck to drive? Would he have gotten married and had kids?

After Derrick died, I thought about my musings and realized that Derrick had been perfect all along. His sense of humor was spot on and always accompanied by a big belly laugh. He couldn’t drive, but his mind had a built in compass and he never hesitated to tell you if you made a wrong turn. And though Derrick couldn’t be a husband or father, he was an excellent Uncle.

Now that I spend my days writing the Stoneybrook Mystery Series, and developing Derrick’s alter ego, Deputy Derrick Stone, I’m once again caught up in delusions of perfection. When I write … anything … I have a deluded expectation that it will be perfect when my fingertips touch the keys and tap out my thoughts. That, unfortunately, is not the case!

I recently discovered that there are still errors in my first novel, “Peril in Paradise”. Seriously? After personally reading the manuscript ten times and listening to the novel five times? I also had four Beta Readers read the book, not to mention paying two editors … and there’s still errors?

My enlightenment came from my investment into Grammarly. The AI editing software had no trouble pointing out all the flaws in my masterpiece. At first, I was extremely annoyed by this revelation.

I shared my experience with one of my Beta readers and she was amazed. “There’s no way all of us combined didn’t catch errors in the book,” she said.

Spurred on by her doubt, and since I hadn’t actually made any of the changes suggested by Grammarly, I decided to take the AI’s recommended corrections one at a time. I discovered that “Alice” (my nickname for the artificial editor) didn’t always get what I was trying to say. Alice did, however, find a few minor things we missed. So, I went through the manuscript and made the necessary changes and corrected things that made sense to my creative brain.

Next, I used Alice while I re-listened to “Redneck Ranch”. I’m double-checking the book for errors or anomalies since I’m having it narrated for an audiobook. Once again Alice couldn’t wait to point out my mistakes. And this time … I found a few storyline problems that Alice wouldn’t catch.

I had another conversation with my Beta Reader friend, and she said, “I know how much of a perfectionist you are, but your stories are fabulous.” She flipped to a part of the book featuring Deputy Derrick Stone putting together clues that would eventually solve the crime. After reading a small snippet, she grinned at me and said, “If there were errors in this section, I didn’t see or hear them.” She hugged me. “For me, and I think all of your readers feel the same, the whole book is perfect.” She grinned. “Just like Derrick.”

When I take a breath and try to look at my work from a non-perfectionist point of view, I’m proud of the seven books I’ve written. My narrator, Dawn, called me a plotting genius and couldn’t stop gushing about how good “Peril in Paradise” is.

Nothing is ever completely perfect. I think when we love something, we massage the person, experience, book, painting, sunset … into perfection. But the true talent is seeing the perfection in the imperfection.

Happy “imperfect” writing, Ladies!!!

Some of you know I lost my son, Derrick, to a sudden heart attack. The seventh anniversary of his death is coming up on May 11^th, a day I now dread. Luckily, I have family and friends who invite me to various activities in an attempt to distract me from the heartache of that day.

My favorite distraction since Derrick’s death has been writing and crafting my books. I currently have seven published books between my two series, including the recently published, “Whispering Willows.” By the end of May, I will have published my eighth novel, “Willow’s Woods.” Yes, working with two double W-titles was a tad bit confusing.

While I love my México Mayhem Series, my heart longs to live in Stoneybrook where Derrick is a fictional deputy sheriff. But regardless of whether I’m writing about an exotic adventure in México or creating a mysterious quest from Stoneybrook to the Oregon coast, I can’t wait to see the story flow from my fingertips.

Recently someone asked me, “If it takes John Grisham two to three years to write a book, how can you write two in one year?”

My first thought was, “Wow! She’s comparing me to John Grisham.” Of course, I came to my senses, realizing this person hasn’t read my books so a Grisham comparison would be silly. My next thought was concerning. “Is she’s implying there’s no way I can write one, let alone two, good books in a year.”

Hmmmm???? My reply was …

“Well,” I smiled, “Grisham’s books are usually very intricate legal thrillers, which isn’t what I write.” I sipped some red wine. “I think, despite writing two books in one year, my books are good. Maybe not John Grisham good, but enjoyable according to the positive reviews I’m receiving.”

Her next question was, “How do you find the time?”

I contemplated our exchange so far, then told her the truth. “I don’t know how much time I have left.” Tears pricked my eyes. “If my time on earth ends sooner than I’d like, I’ll have all these untold stories wishing they’d been written. So, I spend every spare minute writing, or editing, or listening, to the book I’m creating.” This time a much larger sip of wine. “After Derrick died I had two choices,” I continued, “I could slide slowly down the rabbit hole of grief, or I could immerse myself in a passion that brings me joy.”

In the seven years since Derrick died, I’ve lost other family and friends. Counseled parents who’ve lost children. Sat with wives whose husbands have passed away. Being a wordsmith, I feel blessed to offer comfort, always finding the right sentiment to share.

As I approach an anniversary I wish had never been created, I also draw closer to my sixty-seventh birthday. Celebrating Derrick on the eleventh will be both difficult and joyful. I love weaving in his autistic idiosyncrasies into his fictional alter ego and often find myself laughing at one of his favorite sayings or smiling at the memory of his famous belly laugh.

While I’d rather be turning “29” again … I’m thankful to be turning sixty-seven. Thankful I get to take another trip around the sun and spend every spare minute writing stories just waiting to be told.

Happy Writing, Ladies!

I love everything about writing my books. The research and plotting. Developing characters and creating scenarios for their fictional lives. Deciding what crime my villains will spring on their unsuspecting victims. And not knowing how the book ends until I make the journey with the characters is so satisfying.

I do not, however, enjoy marketing. Seriously! There is so much to learn about running Facebook ads. And don’t even get me started about trying, unsuccessfully by the way, to make an Amazon ad. I also can’t seem to master Tik Tok or Book Tok or any kind of Tok.

My trek into the nightmare of marketing is driven by the desire to increase my book sales. So far my endeavors have been participating in book events with Northwest Independent Writers Association (NIWA), as well as doing a few on my own. I love talking to potential readers and discussing my books along with other authors’ books. And I’m really good at sales! I’ve been told I can sell someone the shirt their already wearing!

Obviously, I’m participating in writing blogs for Ladies of Mystery, but I also try to post blogs on my author’s website. And have looked into writing a blog for Goodreads to see if I can attract more readers to my books.

One of the benefits to working events with other authors is learning how to well … market. Paty Jager has been helpful beyond words, answering my questions and holding my hand as I flatten my learning curve. From creating ads to crafting a newsletter to navigating tools like Audible, Paty has provided great insight. Her patience is endless and if not for her I would’ve tossed in the towel after the first week.

Now I’m running a Facebook ad every week or so and my book sales are creeping upwards. I haven’t been able to master an Amazon ad yet, but plan to keep trying. I noticed that my eBook sales are up via Draft2Digital. In fact, the Brooklyn New York Library ordered all five of my eBooks. What?!? As did the Jackson County Library in my hometown of Medford, Oregon.

One of my favorite marketing tasks so far has been scheduling more solo book events. I’ve landed a booth spot for Donald Daze in my current hometown and the Jackson County Library has invited me to do an event in June.

Marketing might be a touch challenging, but I do love a good challenge! I would love any tips or tricks you’ve had success with, so please feel free to share at author@kimilakay.com

I’m off now to work on my current WIP, “Chaos in Cabo”, because causing chaos for my characters is way more fun than marketing!

Happy writing, Ladies ~ Kimila

Footnote: As you know, I lost my son, Derrick, seven years so with each passing child, I deeply feel the loss for the parents. Dear friends of mine lost their 21-year-old son, Jason, in a motorcycle accident a week ago. My apologies for the short blog this time, but I’ve been in Medford wrapped in the comfort of family and friends. Hug those close to you because no matter how much time you think you have … it will never be enough.

“Hi, my name is Kimila and I’m a word-aholic.”

I absolutely love words! I grew up in a family of storytellers and some of my crazy clan may have made up their own words occasionally. For instance, warshcloth for washcloth, tempature for temperature and yellow for hello. You get the idea, right?

Now part of the reason for these created words could be because my relatives moved to Oregon from Oklahoma before I was born. And all y’all no what a strong southern accent can do to the English language.

When I entered the working world one of my first jobs was a secretarial position at a bank. I’d always thought of myself as a great speller, but my mean supervisor soon taught me that was not the case. Imagine you’re typing a letter on a manual typewriter, and you’ve read the piece believing the missive is error free. Then … your supervisor hands it back with red ink markings showing your misspelled words and errors.

I became a better writer, editor, and speller thanks to Mean Mary. And the invention of computers and software has helped immensely. I love that Word tells me what’s wrong with a hint of blue or cute red squiggly lines.

My very first WIP in 2004, “Murder in Margaritaville” (no Jimmy Buffet would not let me use the name) was a labor of love created on a desktop using a keyboard. I pounded out all 125,000 words over the course of three months. Worked hard on editing, printed the pages, and clipped them into a three-ring binder. Then I had my mom, of course, and a few friends read my masterpiece.

Oh, the life of a novice writer. I attended my first Willamette Writer’s conference that year and fell for the line, “I’d love to represent you and your novel, but first we’ll need to have it professionally edited by our team of awesome editors. For a small fee (fortune).”

Of course, I forked over the money for the editing service and learned some valuable tools I still use today. Such as, the correct way to use the word “like”, which I had used incorrectly 30,000 times in my 125,000 word bemouth. One of the editors and I became friends after she sent me a sticker with the word “Like” in the middle of circle, then crossed out.

The most important lesson I learned, though, was do not pay someone who’s dangling the dream of helping you land a book deal. After paying for the editing, the agent, who’d lured me into her web of deceit, told me my masterpiece wasn’t a good fit for her firm.

She gave me a few reasons, but the one that stuck and haunts me still was, “As a novice writer, you should stick to 70-75,000 words in your books.”

I decided not to perseverate about this unpleasant experience and moved forward with my fledgling career. To hone my skills, I wrote short essays published by the “Cup of Comfort” anthology series. You learn how to be an efficient wordsmith when the count is 2,000 words. How to tell an interesting, compelling story without the excess baggage of unneeded words. That being a ruthless editor of your own work serves to make your story stronger.

Now that I’ve let go of the “book deal” dream, I’ve embraced creating interesting characters and writing the fabulous stories swirling in my mind. With three novels, a novella, and a handful of short stories in my collection of work, I feel good about my writing skills. A few glowing reviews for these books has also encouraged me to continue weaving my beloved words into dark and twisty tales.

Still, every now and then, I hear those long ago words echoing in my mind. As a novice writer, you should stick to 70-75,000 words in your books. And worry I’m being too wordy, adding unnecessary blather that will bog down my story and cause a reader to set the book aside.

Each novel I have written over the past six years has grown in wordcount. I find myself watching the count with a bit of trepidation as the number draws close to 70,000. But then I ask myself, is the story good? Can it be better? Have the character’s completed their journey within the tale? Are the loose ends wrapped up for the reader? Have I created a sense of anticipation for the next book?

At this point, I smile and keep writing until the story has reached the finish line. I don’t think of myself as a novice writer anymore, but instead as a writer who loves words and plans to let them determine when the tale is told no matter the word count!

Happy New Year, Ladies of Mystery! And happy writing!