Stephanie Van Orman
Bio
I write novels like I am part-printer, part book factory, and a little girl running away with a balloon. I'm here as an experiment and I'm unsure if this is a place where I can fit in. We'll see.
Stories (116)
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Do You Want a Publishing Deal?
Today, I saw a writer post a question about whether or not they should try to get an agent and then a deal with a traditional publishing house. These questions are not uncommon and there is a lot of conventional wisdom doled out when someone asks a question like that. I will answer the question, but only with what I have EXPERIENCED personally after getting that coveted deal.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Journal
Why I Won't Edit Your Book. Top Story - July 2022.
The other day, I was talking to a newer writer who wanted me to go through their writing and explain how it could be improved. I outright refused and they were unhappy with that, but we were interrupted and I didn't get to explain why I wouldn't do it. So, instead of explaining why to that person, I'm going to explain why to you.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Journal
Why I Call My Readers Ink Drinkers Instead of Bookworms
I'm a novelist. When I first started addressing my readers, sending out ARC invitations, newsletters, and such, I felt that I needed to call them something. I needed a pet name to call all of them that showed my love for them without the hassle of writing to each of them individually. Here were the choices:
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Journal
Hidden Library: The Second Spell Book
“You look beautiful when you dance.” My back straightened when I heard those words from the other side of the practice room. I hadn’t heard Antony enter. If I had, I would have stopped practicing. I glanced at the stereo system in the corner. My music had not been loud, yet the gentle melody had covered the sound of his arrival.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
His 16th Face
“What's going on?” I whispered, startled in the darkness. “I'm holding you,” Christian explained evenly. Though he was familiar, the feeling of his arms around me was not. He lifted me clean off the bed as if I weighed nothing. In the rocking chair, he settled my head into the space between his chin and his shoulder. His breath feathered down my nose to settle on the moist curves of my lips.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
Rose Red
Harrison stepped through the glass doors and entered the waiting room of Sleeping Beauty Inc. With pink metallic chairs and faux snakeskin seats, it was obviously not his regular hangout. He sat down anyway, close to the door. From the least obtrusive seat in the room, he could see three monitors showing Sleeping Beauty Inc. success stories.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
