Heather Carter's Blog

Happy Friday!

Sufficed to say, the last couple of years have been a difficult time for the world. We’re still in the midst of a pandemic and that has meant a lot of changes to our everyday lives, and many of us have experienced loss (including yours truly).

I am more thankful for what I do have, for the time I get to spend with family, and for the kindness shown by people around me. We have seen the good, bad, and the ugly, but there is also light.

We may not be out of this fight yet, but we’re going to get there if we stick together and remember our humanity.

Good things will come our way.

Onto some happy news!

This upcoming year will be a particularly busy one for me. I’m working on edits for The Mountain King while writing book two in the series (King of Stars), and I have plans to dive into book three before the year’s end. Look for more in the way of marketing on this in the next few months! Exciting things are ahead, leading up to the release in early 2023 via Starry Ink Press.

Also on the roster is the release of my next indie novel, Echoes of Radfield Hall. It’s a supernatural romance about a man and a woman who wake up in the woods outside a haunted, decrepit mansion in the middle of nowhere. They have no memory and no choice but to rely on each other to survive. At night, the mansion comes to life in its Regency-era heyday and they and thrust into new roles as characters in a repeating scenario. Together, they must work to solve the mystery before they succumb to the forces working against them and become ghosts themselves.

Target for release of Echoes of Radfield Hall is fall 2022! (It’s a perfectly spooky story for spooky season.)

This year has been a wild ride in a number of ways, but I am thankful for all the support in the release of Of Songs and Saltwater (my gender-swapped Little Mermaid retelling). It has done well for a debut (or, re-debut, I should say. Fated One is being revamped!), and I am all smiles, knowing that it is in the hands of readers.

I hope that 2022 brings good things into your life.

Lots of love,

In my more recent years as a writer, I have heard differing opinions about sex in books.  More specifically, there seems to be a growing scrutiny against the romance writing community. To be even more precise, there is a divide between “clean” romance writers and “spicy” (or traditional) romance writers.

As someone who used to be a fundamentalist conservative, I have been on both sides of this coin. But as age, wisdom, and other life changes have come along, I’ve come to be a far less judgmental person than I used to be. I understand relationships (and healthy relationships) better than I used to, and I’m also free now to let my creativity flow and write as I please. I don’t take that freedom for granted.

The subject of including sex in books has long been a debate among writers and readers. Some are uncomfortable including sex in books, others thrive on writing relationships that are passionate. I personally include sex in my books. I think that it’s a natural part of relationships, and that if it flows with the story, then it makes it onto the page.

What I don’t understand, however, is the notion that there is something morally wrong or fundamentally devious with writers (like me) who include sex in their novels. That we write it simply for the sake of voyeurism or with some other agenda. I would argue that if that were true (as a friend recently pointed out) then the same could be said of writers who write any kind of violence in their novels. Someone stabs someone with a sword—surely the writer must be a very violent person who dreams of murder! Or what of bullies? A writer who can come up with such insults is probably a pretty awful person, right?

Fiction is meant to entertain, explore, help us escape, and sometimes to make us think. Including sex as part of a novel is to explore one area of the human (or perhaps other-than-human) experience. Especially if you are delving into the topic of relationships, like in a romance. We, as writers, have the unique ability to translate those issues and craft them into stories that can speak to others in their own experiences.

There is still an unfortunate stigma around sex in our society. A woman’s worth is still determined by her sexual activity in the eyes of many (yet the same isn’t true of a man). It’s 2021 and women (even victims of assault) are still being shamed as being damaged somehow. That bleeds through into the way people single out the romance genre for criticism, specifically books written by women. We’re easy targets for society’s deep-seated aggressions.

I’ve heard some people say things along the lines of, “Well, I only write CLEAN romance! I don’t want to be associated with THOSE kinds of writers!” To that, my response would be, “Well, sex isn’t dirty!” I don’t write erotica, but I know plenty of amazing people who do. And they are some of the kindest, non-judgmental folks I’ve ever met. They are everyday people too, with spouses, kids, and normal jobs. They just happen to write in a different genre than I do.

We can’t fix the whole world on our own, but we can choose to be a kinder person and not make it worse. Something may not be your cup of tea, but don’t make assumptions about others who do enjoy that particular cup. 

I often hear a lot of differing opinions in the writing world about what route is best for publishing: traditional or self-publishing (aka “indie”). Some people don’t consider indie authors legitimate, while others consider traditionally-published authors “sell-outs”. (The writing world can be surprisingly cutthroat!)

In my opinion, both avenues are perfectly valid. I’m personally choosing… both!

While I have a self-published book coming out next month, I’m still querying another project to agents and publishers behind the scenes. I would be tickled pink if it gets picked up and traditionally-published! In the meantime, I’m going to focus on putting out books independently as I am able.

So why consider traditional publishing if I’m an indie author? Well, for me personally, finances are an obstacle. Publishing and marketing a book on your own is NOT cheap, if I’m being completely honest. As much as I love my stories and I’m passionate about my art, getting it out into the world has its challenges. (Also, just the idea of seeing it featured widely in bookstores would be awesome!)

Some people write purely for passion and aren’t concerned with making a career out of it. That’s just as great! Writing is a great form of therapy as well. It’s kept me going through some really tough times. 

I still write because I love it, but my dreams of publishing are still just as vivid and loud as they were when I was a little girl. As women, sometimes we’re made to feel guilty for wanting to have a career or be financially successful. Due to health and family reasons, I’m unable to hold a traditional job, but the idea of doing something I LOVE and making income from it? That excites me. It would be a blessing to my family as well.

All of that said, my message is this: whatever path you choose—traditional  publishing, self-publishing, or not publishing at all—do what’s best for YOU. Support your fellow writers, whether they be scribbling in a notebook for the fun of it, or pushing deadlines to get revisions to their editor. At the end of the day, we’re all in this for the love of words, even if our paths and long-term goals look a little different from each other.

Hello, world!

This is my first blog post on my new website! I thought it would be appropriate to introduce you to my writing buddy, Smokey.

He is a 6-year-old American shorthair tabby who serves as my ESA (Emotional Support Animal). Smokey came into my life about 3 years ago when I was at a low point and desperately needed some extra support. After consulting with my doctor, we decided that an ESA would be beneficial. 

So after a few more steps, I ended up at the shelter to meet a different cat I’d seen online. It turns out that cat was already adopted, but I agreed to see the others (of course!).

The moment I stepped into the cat room, I was greeted by a wall of plexiglass cubicles, filled with cats in need of homes. One cat in particular locked eyes with me. He meowed and desperately rubbed up against the glass, begging for cuddles. I requested to meet with him immediately.

In the meeting room, I sat down with him on the floor. I’d been going through probably one of the worst times of my life and I was desperate for a friend, even if that friend had fur. But I was also terrified of somehow making a mistake. So I pet Smokey, and cried, telling him that if he would come home with me, I would be the best cat mom I knew how, and take care of him the rest of his life. When he let me pick him up and cuddle him to my chest, I knew he was the cat for me. (It all sounds a bit dramatic, but it really was a monumental moment.)

Smokey (I kept the name he came with at the shelter) meowed all the way home. I had to explain to the McDonald’s drive thru worker that no, I did not have a dying cat in my car, he was just on his way to his new, loving home and didn’t appreciate the mode of transportation (or my singing). He still hates his carrier. And my singing.

When we got home, I waited excitedly for my husband to get off work. He’d been reluctant about the idea of getting a cat, but it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, amiright? The moment he opened the door, I held out my new cat and said with a big smile, “MEET YOUR NEW CAT SON!” Matt simple sighed and got over it. (They’re best buds now).

Then the kids came home from school. I was most excited to show them, because I knew they’d freak out. And do you want to know what happened next? The cat. went. missing. Could not find him ANYWHERE. We tore through the house, looked under furniture, searched outside. I was convinced that I was a terrible cat mom who had just failed in her promise to take good care of her new furbaby. I was crying. The kids were crying. Eventually, Smokey crawled out of whatever hole he’d been hiding in and the day was saved.

Today, Smokey (aka: Smokey Marie Carter. Yes, he’s a boy. Yes, his middle name is Marie. I have no clue why.) is a very spoiled, healthy kitty who prefers to sit on his perch by the back door window and dream up of ways to capture the squirrels that taunt him. He is obsessed with running out the front door to chew on the grass in our front yard like a little cow. Even though he can be a booger now and then, I’d be lost without him.