Maggi Myers - Fiction Writer. Monkey Wrangler

Jillian...How do I even begin? Well, let me start in the Summer of 2012, when I picked up a little book called That Boy. I had just begun to outline the chapters for   my own book and was in need of a mental hiatus. In walked Danny and Phillip, out walked the next eight hours of my life. I devoured the book, fell in love with the characters and promptly started to Facebook stalk their almighty creator, Jillian Dodd. Lucky for me, That Boy was followed up with That Wedding and the obsessive haze of my new book boyfriends could follow me on vacation in the Outer Banks. I vaguely remember being there with my family, but vividly recall howling with laughter on the beach and the many odd stares I got from my fellow beachgoers. To say that I love these books would be like saying that chocolate covered pretzels were just "alright," and that a fine glass of cabernet sauvignon was just "meh." If you haven't read them, I woud suggest hot footing it over to  my fa...

I hope everyone had an amazing holiday surrounded by the love of family and friends. I have been mulling over the best way to say thank you to all of the people who've supported me and written to me about The Final Piece. I thought it would be fun to do a giveaway, so with out further adieu. Ta da! a Rafflecopter giveaway

I have had the pleasure of receiving quite a few emails from readers with wonderful questions for Beth and Ryan. After much deliberation, they graciously agreed to go over them with me! Without further adieu, here are the answers. **SPOILER ALERT** Me: Ryan, what was it like to see Beth again after 10 years? Ryan: It blew my mind. When I called Melissa to tell her that I wanted to meet Beth's flight, I was in a fog. I don't remember getting to the airport, I just remember standing there, watching her move through the crowd exiting the concourse. She took my breath away. I froze, and before I could move, she blew by me and ran down the escalator to baggage claim. By the time, I got my ass in gear, she was already walking outside. She looked beautiful and broken. I will never forget it. It's a heartbreaking memory, but it's also one of the best days of my life. Beth: One of the best? You're a hard sell, Cantwell. Ryan: Best day of my life is when y...

I know that I have been woefully remiss in keeping up with the blog. My saving grace is that it was a casualty of finishing The Final Piece . That's right, The Final Piece was released on November 13, 2013 to rave reviews. I'm so excited! If you haven't had the chance to read it, here is the  link . I am currently working on interview questions for Beth and Ryan, so please feel free to post any you may want answered! The only stipulation is that you please leave a short review on Amazon. The number of reviews I get helps give The Final Piece credibility, and also affects the way Amazon markets my book. It really is the best thing you can do to help any author! I'm looking forward to clearing out the cobwebs and adding some fun stuff, so stay tuned for contests and chances to win a signed copy. Love, Magnolia

copyright Google Images The blurb, the little synapsis that hooks a reader and gets them interested in reading your book. There should be a horror film called "The Blurb" where the writer screams maniacally at a computer screen with a blinking cursor, while ripping their hair out in chunks. I am really not trying to be over dramatic but the blurb was harder to write than most of the book! It is really difficult for a verbose gal, like myself, to be succinct about a few hundred pages of blood, sweat and tears. I am guessing here but I imagine it took me as long to write the blurb as it did the last 2 chapters I wrote. *Raises fist in triumph* It is done!! I have completed a draft that I think will suffice. Here is where I need you. Take a moment, read it and leave me a comment letting me know what you thought. Did it hook you? Did it bomb? Here is your chance to give me a piece of your mind! Elizabeth Bradshaw has spent her life picking up the the pieces of her d...

This Labor Day Weekend, I am celebrating the hard labor I've put into my book. It is surreal and exciting to announce that I am 2/3 completed, I have 55k words typed. Excuse me while I celebrate myself for a moment *~*Happy Dance*~* I didn't think I would make it past a single page; a chapter written was my first goal. Coming soon to an e-reader near you: The Final Piece by Maggi Myers. This weekend I have been writing about Beth's journey home. It's got me thinking about what home has come to mean to me over the years. My home, my roots, my heart will forever be on the porch swing on sixth street. That is where my grandparents live and it where my pilgrimage leads me when I yearn for "home."I am blessed to have a big obnoxious family who love me more than I deserve at times. I am completely and madly in love with them and all their craziness, in turn. No matter where I am, no matter what I am going through, I know that my room waits for me on the se...

I am a writer. I am an author. I have to pinch myself daily because I still can't believe that I am at a place where I am living my life long dream. Well, one of my life long dreams. My other lifelong dream of being a famous rock star will have to wait until after the book is published. HA! It's a good thing I have a vivid imagination, because they rock star daydreams are as close as I'm going to get. Speaking of getting published, this brings me to my question of the day. To query or not to query? I want to know! Should I pursue the publishing houses or let them come knocking on my door after I publish on my own? I am inspired by some really great writers who self-published and were later picked up by agents. Jamie McGuire, Colleen Hoover, Tracey Garvis-Graves and Jessica Park have all made the NYT Bestsellers list without a publishing house. Do I subject myself to a firing squad of agents who may or may not like my manuscript or do I take a chance and let the actual rea...

copyright Google Images Sometimes that word just pisses me off. Yes, I meant it as a question and not a statement or fact. Lately, I have had the persistent urge to shoot life the proverbial middle finger. Screw me? Screw you. Life keeps piling up in these huge overwhelming heaps of dung and every time I get close to falling over the edge, some one pulls me back. I can't stay bitter. Dammit. Writing was almost impossible this last week. My son spent much of the week in the hospital for a seizure study so my time was dedicated to him, alone. When he was released, I finally sat down to spend time with Beth, Tommy and Ryan. I felt disconnected, rusty and very frustrated so I logged onto Facebook to pick the brains of some awesomely gifted writers I know. I was seriously considering throwing in the towel, that is how close to the edge I was. They didn't coddle me or sugar coat any of their opinions. They pretty much told me to get over myself and get back to work. Then they...

We are Panthers proud and true. Senior Class of '92.  I am having a really hard time reconciling the fact that it has been twenty years since I left Miami. This past weekend I went back to my old neighborhood for the first time since I left in 1992. The ghosts are still there, lurking around every remodeled corner. Sometimes the wounds are so deep and vast, nothing can erase them. Not time, not patience, not grace. My classmates also made the pilgrimage back to the 'hood, all of us from different parts of the country to wax nostalgic about Palmetto High School. I have to say, I am so impressed with them! They are the most charming and genuine people I had the pleasure of spending time with. Far removed from the drama that befalls all high schools, these folks epitomized class and kindness (save a sad few who just never grew up). The one thing I keep perseverating on is the blanket statement most people make in these situations "You haven't changed at all!" W...

The last time I posted I told you the story of my friend and how the character Tommy is based loosely on him. I have been tweaking a scene that has been heavy on my mind since that last post and thought it would be the perfect sneak peek to debut. Here is the scene from Ryan's POV: copyright Google Images A breeze kicks up and blows gently against the hem of her sundress, kissing her ivory thighs. Pervert. Irritated, I shake my head and I force my feet to move when those lovely legs of hers buckle beneath her weight. She lifts her face towards the sky and I can see that she’s crying, no, mourning. Her feral moan carries over the breeze and my heart breaks into a million pieces. Her grief is palpable; mixed with my own, it is suffocating. I am desperate to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and comfort her but there is no comfort in this loss and I am not who she wants. She runs her hand over the cold marble stone, tracing his name over and over. “Tommy” ...

Today was one of those days that everything I wrote ended up in the trash. I wouldn't call it a "block" but I definitely felt stuck on something. In this case, it was a character named Tommy who precariously teeters on the edge of fiction and reality. Tommy wanted my undivided attention today, reminding me of his importance in the book and in my own life. Tommy's character is based on a friend of mine who I lost 8 years ago. He was present in my life at a time when I was very lost and very angry. Without hesitation, he looked at me and said "I believe in you" when no one else in my life would. That moment changed me indefinitely and forever bonded me to a wonderful man and mentor. In the winter of 2004, shortly after my second son was born, my friend died in a terrible accident. The birth of my second child was complicated and my recovery was long and difficult. I wasn't able to make the trip home for his funeral and it haunts me to this day.  Wh...

                                                                                            copyright Google images Invitation   If you are a dreamer come in If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer If you're a pretender com sit by my fire For we have some flax golden tales to spin Come in!   Come in! Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein *courtesy* I can't help but feel a little giddy at the moment. It's surreal to think that when I am through typing this first post, I will be one step closer to the goal. I am excited your here! Thanks for following and I look forward to your comments. Yours, Magnolia