Category Archives: Writing

A Writer’s Truth

Last night I met with the local writing group at our library and as usual we shared our responses to a writing prompt. One of the things I find amazing about writers is how we can look at the same picture and all see something different. Our work reflects our senses of humor, our backgrounds, our writing styles. Each experience molds and shapes us as writers and only becomes obvious once our words are laid out on the page.

So I thought I would share a couple pieces that came from the same inspiration. The picture was our prompt. The first response is mine, and the second, my sister, Arielle’s.

Mirror Reflection

Alex shuffled her feet, heedless of the dew that soaked through her shoes as she made her way across the garden. Her throat burned as she fetched up against the side of the old wishing well, but she fought the tears with everything she’d gained from years of quiet perseverance.

Her fingers gripped the crumbling stone and she leaned over the still water as though she would leap into the depths. Her pale face stared up at her. She dropped a rock into the water, shattering her reflection the way Rob had shattered her that morning.

When the water smoothed, Alex gasped and jerked back. There were two reflections below her now.

She looked up at the figure beside her, only just stifling a scream. Her own face stared back at her, her own eyes slanted in satisfaction, and her own lips quirked in an unpleasant smile.

“What-?” Alex started. “Who are you?”

The other Alex cocked her head. “I am you,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “The only you.”

She shoved Alex with a vicious grin and Alex stumbled back…over the low stone wall. And down, into the cold and damp.

Above her the other Alex laughed.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

I have been many things, and I have been none of them. I’ve been you. When you smile, I smile. When you frown, I frown. When you talk to me, my lips move with yours. I see you, but you don’t see me. You look at me and see yourself. I am you, but only when you’re with me. When you leave, I cannot follow. I am left to wait for your return. Then silently I will show you yourself again. You will hate me for it. You will use me to make yourself better, but I will always tell you you’re not good enough. And you will never know I didn’t want to. It’s only what I was made for.

 

We both managed to turn out something fairly creepy (and to be fair, we are related, with similar backgrounds and influences), but there were other responses in our group that were amusing, nostalgic or passionate without the darker shading. I liked how some of us saw the girl looking in a mirror, and others saw her looking at her reflection in water. Some saw her as a tomboy, others thought she seemed fragile or abused.

At first, it may seem like there is only one truth here. There is a little girl, well dressed, looking down at her reflection. And this may be the one truth. But there are many stories.

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Inspiration in Sneakers

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a response to a writing prompt, and since I’ve got a new one in my portfolio, I figured I’d share it with y’all. I met with my local writer’s group this week and we all wrote on the same subject: a picture of a man’s feet in seriously beat up sneakers. Honestly, I had a hard time with it. Didn’t find it as inspiring as I felt like I should have. But I pressed on and came out with something I actually kind of like. Not really sure where I was going with it, but the character seems really interesting.

I’m going to kill the next person who offers me a free meal. Just cause I like to breathe through my toes don’t give you the right to think I live in a cardboard box behind the dumpster on Sixth Street. If I could afford those fancy loafers imprisoning your tootsies, I’d rip the toes off those too. I’ve got to have room to wiggle, got to feel the breeze airing out the spaces between my piggies. Got to evict the fungus before I start charging it rent.

Like I’ve said before, I can be resentful of the challenges prompts present, but I usually get something out of them. I learn something. I like to think that stretching my brain around problems like this on a regular basis will serve me well the next time I’m staring at my screen suffering from writer’s block. If I can find words to write about old beat up shoes, a story that’s been haunting me for years shouldn’t be a problem, right?

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At First Sight

In the spirit of the holiday I have a special post for y’all. This is a short story I wrote back in September as a response to a prompt that said “write something that takes place in a public restroom”. I’m not sure how a romance fell out but it did. I think it could use a couple more drafts but the foundation is there. I hope y’all enjoy, and happy valentine’s day.

 

The door of the restroom swung open. A young woman limped in, her flats shuffling across the tiles and her crutch clicking with each uneven step. She stopped and leaned against the cool wall, looked down at the bridesmaid’s dress she wore, and burst into tears.

She should never have introduced them. Kara sniffled and reached into her purse to grab some more tissues. The wads in her fist which she’d been using all night were too soggy with tears and snot to do her any good now. Her fingers found some loose change, a tube of chapstick, and four pens, but no Kleenex.

Dammit. Her nose was leaking like that stupid kitchen faucet she still hadn’t fixed. She ducked down to make sure the stalls were empty and limped across to the counter. She winced when she saw her blotchy face reflected in the mirror. That shade of red definitely clashed with the coral of her dress. She turned from the horrifying visage and propped her crutch against the counter so she could snatch up a few paper towels.

Really, this was her fault. She shouldn’t have introduced them, she thought again. Or at least she should have refused the dubious honor of standing next to them as they tied the knot. Then she wouldn’t have had to come at all and wouldn’t have had to watch her best friend marry the only guy who had ever looked past Kara’s crutch to see her.

Kara froze as the door to the reception hall swung open, letting in a burst of sound from the party. Oh God, if it was Emily, she’d just go ahead and die on the spot, public restroom or not.

But it wasn’t Emily. Her gaze met startled gray eyes in a distinctly masculine face.

Kara squeaked and darted into the back stall, but her drooping foot caught the edge of a tile and she stumbled. Ready to start crying again, this time with frustration, she slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the toilet.

“Oh crap, I’m sorry.” His voice came over the stall door.

“What are you doing in the women’s restroom?” she said. Her voice sounded too high, and she concentrated on bringing it back into a register discernible to humans.

“I didn’t notice the sign,” he said.

“It’s a chick in a dress. How could you not see it?”

“I just didn’t.” He paused. “Are you okay?”

She blew out her breath. “I’m fine. Go away.”

“Your face is all red.”

“Gee thanks.”

He didn’t apologize but there was an awkward silence where it kind of felt like he wanted to. “I have a confession,” he finally said. “I didn’t come in here by accident.”

“You didn’t,” Kara said, her voice flat.

“No.”

There was another pause. This one went on a bit longer. “Are you still there?” he said.

“I’m trying to decide if you’re some creepy pervert.”

He laughed. She liked the sound of it ringing off the walls of the restroom. “Not a creepy pervert,” he said. “I swear.” She imagined him holding up his hand as if swearing on a Bible. “I’m Paul. Emily’s brother.”

That’s right. She’d met him last night at the dress rehearsal, but she’d been so worried about not being bitter and not ruining Emily’s wedding that all she remembered of him was a brief impression of light eyes and dark hair. But wait, if he was her brother…

Kara groaned. “Emily sent you in here, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” He sounded kind of resentful and weary at the same time. Guess he didn’t like being sent to comfort the third wheel any more than she liked being recognized as the third wheel.

“Well, you can tell her I’m fine. I’m not angry, or upset, or-or anything, all right?”

She heard him shift and it sounded like he was leaning against the counter. “I don’t think she expected you to be in here crying,” he said.

“Why else would she send you?”

“Maybe because she thought you could help me.” His voice was quiet.

Kara closed her eyes and pounded her forehead with her fist. Not everything’s about you, stupid. Well, maybe if she helped him with whatever problem he had, he would go away and leave her alone. “Why do you need my help?” she said.

“I don’t.” His response was too quick and too loud. “I’m fine. Emily’s just overprotective, and she thought since we both have disabilities… you know, instant connection.”

Kara sighed. “Why does everyone think that crippled people are automatically attracted to other crippled people?”

“I don’t know. It’s insulting really.”

“It is.” Kara narrowed her eyes and thought back. She didn’t have a great memory of him from the night before, but she knew she would have noticed if he’d been in a wheelchair or had crutches like hers. “Wait,” she said. “I don’t remember you having a disability.”

“You’re assuming you can see it.”

“So, you mean like vertigo?”

“I mean like PTSD.”

“Oh. Were you in the military?”

“Nothing so heroic,” he said. “I was a hostage in that bank robbery last year.”

“The one on 6th street? Geez, I remember that.”

“Yeah, nothing like being in combat or anything, but it kind of messed me up.”

She was getting better at reading his voice. He sounded embarrassed with something deeper underneath. Shame? “Paul, they kept those hostages locked up in that safe for three nights. And a couple people were shot, weren’t they.”

She heard him swallow. “Yeah.”

“I’m not trying to remind you or anything, I’m just saying, that would mess anyone up.”

“Yeah, well, I’m better now I’ve got Warden. He keeps me sane. I’m usually too worried about him sticking his nose up women’s skirts to be worried about myself.”

“Who is Warden and why hasn’t he been arrested?” she asked.

“He’s my service dog. And most of the girls forgive him once he looks up at them with those big brown eyes.”

“You have a service dog? Why didn’t you bring him?”

He paused. “I did.”

She leaned over and looked under the stalls and saw Paul’s feet in his dress shoes. Right next to him were four paws and the tip of a wagging tail.

“Sorry, I didn’t see him.”

“He’s big and slobbery and wears a bright red vest. How could you miss him?”

She heard the smile in his voice and couldn’t help smiling in return. “I just did. Besides you startled me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. So why are you in here instead of out there eating cake?”

Her smile disappeared at the reminder. “I’m being pathetic,” she said, going for a light-hearted tone. “I didn’t want to ruin Emily’s wedding by bursting into tears during their first dance.”

“You don’t approve of the groom?”

“Oh no. I know he’s a really great guy. That’s the problem.”

“So you’re in love with him,” Paul said.

“No.” The stall door made the perfect barrier to hide behind, so she found it easier to say, “I just thought he might be the kind of person who could love me. And those are hard to find.”

“Well, now it just sounds like you’re fishing for compliments.”

Kara knew he was trying to lighten her mood, but she’d had a rough couple days and just wanted a moment of self-indulgence. “Oh, that’s what it sounds like to you? Well, that’s the reality I live with. Every guy I meet I have to wonder if he’s going to be one of the ones who only sees my disability. Half of them have a hero complex and the other half get that glazed look right before they run away because I’d be too much work.”

“At least you can leave your house without having some kind of breakdown. Every day I wonder if I’ll actually be able to step out the door. At every store I have an argument with myself about whether there are enough exits or too many people inside.”

“But no one knows what’s going on in your head,” Kara said. “You can smile and nod at people and they won’t be able to tell you have problems. I get judged before I even open my mouth. Everyone can see my weakness as I step out of a car or stand up from a chair.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Do you know how long it took me to realize that I actually had a serious condition? This is something treatable, but only if you recognize that it’s there. Once I finally acknowledged that I needed help, I had to convince the rest of the world there really was something wrong with me and it wasn’t all in my head. You don’t have to convince anyone.”

Suddenly, Kara was laughing, the tension and the anger spilling out until she felt loose and free. “Are we arguing about who’s disability is more disabling?” she said.

His chuckle was warm. “I guess so. Is it weird that I kind of feel better?”

“Not really. I feel better, too. Maybe Emily knew what she was doing.”

He was quiet while she fished in the toilet paper dispenser for something to wipe her nose. The plastic rattled.

“Drat,” she said.

“What?”

“It’s empty, and I’m out of tissues.”

A package sailed over the stall door, and she reached up to grab it just to keep it from hitting her in the face.  It was one of those pocket size packets of Kleenex.

“Really?” she said, her breath huffing out on a laugh.

“Brother of the bride, you know. I have another confession,” he said. “Emily might have asked me to talk to you, but that’s not why I came in here. I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to ask you to dance all night.”

“So you followed me into the bathroom?”

“I didn’t want to lose my chance. I guess I got a little carried away when I realized you were alone and no one would overhear my awkward attempt to ask you out to dinner tomorrow.”

“First it was just a dance, now you want a date too?”

“I wanted a dance cause you’re pretty. I want a date because you’re interesting and I’m really enjoying our conversation.”

“Hmm. Are you sure you’re not one of those guys that only sees the disability.”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell since I haven’t actually seen you in a while. Why don’t you come out and you can judge?”

“My face might still be splotchy.”

“Warden doesn’t mind, do you? He says he doesn’t.”

Kara suppressed a giggle and levered herself to her feet. She took a moment to smooth her dress and make sure her mascara hadn’t run before she opened the stall door and stepped outside. Paul leaned against the counter, his lips curving up in a smile, a German shepherd grinning at his feet.

“Well?” she said. She turned like a model on a runway, hanging onto the stalls for support. Where had she left her crutch?

He shook his head. “No disabilities. I just see a beautiful woman.” He cocked his head. “Is there hope for me?”

Kara pretended to consider. “What do you think, Warden?”

The dog’s tail thumped against the tiles.

“I agree.” She spotted her crutch propped on the counter opposite Paul, and she limped to grab it. Something cold and wet touched the back of her knee, and she felt the back of her skirt lift. She jumped, slipped, and caught herself against the counter with her hand in the sink.

“Warden! Sorry, sorry.” Paul was yanking the shepherd’s harness.

Kara laughed. “I suppose you did warn me.”

“What did you agree with?” he asked the dog and then looked up at Kara. “Do I get a dance and a date?”

Kara opened her mouth just as the door opened and an older woman wearing a burnt orange sweater and a lime green skirt swarmed into the restroom.

Paul started guiltily when her eyes widened and she stopped short.

“Paul Jay Sherman. What do you think you’re doing in the ladies room?”

“Aunt Phyllis. I was just-”

“You were just leaving, is what. Stop bothering this young woman and get marching.” She pointed to the door, and Kara had to cover her smile.

Warden stepped in front of Paul and leaned against his legs. Paul seemed to soak in the dog’s strength and stood up straighter. “Not until I’ve heard her answer.” He turned to her and held out his hand. “So, what will it be Kara?”

His eyes stayed locked on hers. They didn’t stray toward her crutch or her legs.

She placed her hand in his. “A dance then,” she said.

“And dinner?”

She smiled. “And dinner.”

They walked out of the women’s restroom, letting Aunt Phyllis seek out a stall in peace.

The restroom door swung open. A young woman limped in, the clicking of her crutch muffled by the fabric of her wedding dress. She stopped by the mirror and took a moment to check her makeup. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a plastic package of Kleenex propped up by the sink. She smiled as she reached for it.

“Kara?” A girl poked her head around the door. “Paul says hurry. Emily’s about to start her toast, and he says he can’t live through it without moral support.”

Kara curled her fingers around the tissues. “I’m coming,” she said.

“Okay. Oh geez! Warden, no.”

Kara laughed and left the restroom.

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Nano Wrap Up

Today is the last day of Nanowrimo so I thought I’d give you guys a rundown on how it went.

I was pretty solid with my word-count for the first couple weeks and I even managed to get ahead before Thanksgiving (after four years I know full well that family plus turkey does not equal much writing time). But despite that head-start I somehow hit the second week slump in my fourth week. I managed to reach 50,000 words on Monday but it was an uphill slog. And since my personal goal was to write 75,000 words this month, I didn’t quite make it. At least I learned something. I have a very hard time working on two projects at once. Whaddaya know? I’m human after all.

One of my favorite parts of Nanowrimo is the community. My writing partners and I get together once a week at the library and have our own write-ins. Hard at work above are my sister and Rebecca Green Gasper, who was kind enough to answer some questions for us last week along with Susan Oloier. Becca’s been one of my critique/writing partners for a couple years now. If you haven’t checked her out yet, you should take a look.

So, I’m coming out of this side of November with half of a new novel and about 8,000 words of a devotional (that was supposed to be 25,000, I told you the dual projects thing didn’t work, right?). Not bad all things considering, and I’m really looking forward to finishing up The Robber Bridegroom. So far it’s been a blast to write. The devotional has been more of a battle but just as rewarding. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me this next year.

 

Here’s a sneak peek at The Robber Bridegroom:

“The building was large and imposing. Until now it had always meant fear and danger to me. Along with the rest of the Reaper’s crew, I had avoided it for the last ten years. I swallowed and mounted the steps. One, two, three, four, five steps separated my past from my future. Such a small distance for such a huge leap of faith.

I couldn’t keep myself from turning one last time to glance behind me. Across the street, Clarence and Aalan stood watching. Clarence’s lips were twisted in a contemptuous sneer but Aalan’s eyes were wide with horror and disbelief. Like the Reaper, he didn’t believe I would do it. He didn’t think I had it in me to throw away my whole life, everything I’d ever known, all the family I had, just for an ideal.

This was the end. If I took this step, I’d be hunted. I’d go from being the Reaper’s employee to being his next target. No forgiveness, no leniency, no second thoughts. I’d made my decision a long time ago but this was the moment it would become real.

I lifted my chin and stepped into the police station.”

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The Lovely Ladies from Moxie Writers

Today I’ve got a couple special guests over from Moxie Writers. Rebecca Green Gasper and Susan Oloier are both young adult authors out on their Break Out Against book tour.

Rebecca is the writer of young adult fiction. Before becoming a writer, she was a high school special education teacher working primarily with students with emotional disabilities. She also worked as a tutor and coach. Rebecca grew up in the mountains of Colorado. She now resides outside of Denver with her husband and two children.

Susan is a mom, a wife, and a writer of YA and Adult fiction, as well as non-fiction. She has been published in Inside/Outside Magazine as a columnist, at http://www.fertilesource.com/, and in Cliterature Journal. She just finished a travel memoir about her family’s year in the national parks.

Rebecca and Susan take on some of the tougher issues in young adult fiction nowadays and I thought you might like a closer look at what they write and how they go about writing it.

Where did you get the idea for your book?

Rebecca: Break From You started with a dream about a fire and a cowboy, and another element I can’t tell you about because it will give away the book. Eventually the idea developed into a story about dating abuse and became Brooke’s story. I did a lot of research about dating abuse, abusers, and victims.

Susan: Outcast has been a part of me since junior high. I was the victim of bullying in both junior high and high school. The experience of being picked on and singled out has been with me my whole life. It was a book I needed to write. Initially it was for catharsis, but it later turned into something more.

How long did it take you to write?

Rebecca: It doesn’t take me long to write once I get going. Break From You took around two or three months to write. The editing and publishing took a lot longer.

Susan: I started Outcast in 2001. It went through many drafts, edits, and revisions over the past 11 years.

Are you a planner or a pantser? (do you plan your novel before writing or do you write by the seat of your pants)

Rebecca: I plan, but not always on paper. I will make notes and write some scenes. I also write out a brief outline, but for the most part, when an idea comes, I spend a lot of time brainstorming and developing the story in my head long before I start writing. I also spend a lot of time researching. For Break From You, I did research on dating abuse, victims, and abusers.

 Susan: When I have an idea, it brews in my mind for 4-6 months. The characters become real to me in that time, as do the details of their lives and situations. Then I begin taking notes and write a rudimentary outline. With two of my books, I wrote detailed outlines (Outcast being one of them). So I’d say I’m a plotter, but I always leave room for the characters to do what they want—as they always seem to do.

Do you edit as you write or wait until the first draft is finished?

Rebecca: I do some editing as I go, but most is done when the story is finished. I find that I need the whole story laid out in front of me before I can start working on the editing.

Susan: I am notorious for editing as I go, which is why it takes me a year or so for a “first draft” to be finished. I always go back and reread what I wrote, then revise and edit before the version is ever complete. Writers as a whole seem to frown on this, but it’s a process that works for me.

Was there any part of this project that gave you more trouble than the rest?

Rebecca: Brooke’s emotions gave me the most trouble. Brooke has strength, but she also displays a lot of weakness and showing why she made the decisions she did was a very difficult task.

 Susan: I didn’t like a lot of Noelle’s choices. They weren’t things I would do in a million years. So letting her get involved in decisions I didn’t approve of and allowing her to plot revenge were really hard for me.

Where can we find your books?

Love shouldn’t hurt this much…Brooke Myers wants to believe she has it all: the perfect guy, the perfect relationship, the perfect life. She wants to believe it so much that she’s willing to overlook the fear, the isolation, and the pain her boyfriend has caused her. She knows it isn’t right but tells herself that love isn’t always easy. However, when a fire destroys the restaurant during homecoming dinner, she forms an instant bond with the boy who saves her, one her boyfriend wouldn’t like. With the pain of a concussion reminding her of how bad things can get, she is forced to re-evaluate the relationship she has with her boyfriend and face the ghosts that haunt her. Brooke once believed love was all it took…but is it enough? Is it truly love when you’ve lost yourself in it?

Amazon- http://www.amazon.com/Break-From-You-ebook/dp/B009YLW5NG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1353426083&sr=8-2&keywords=break+from+you
Smashwords-http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/249896
Barnes and Noble-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/break-from-you-rebecca-green-gasper/1113712532?ean=2940015898903

Website- rebeccagreengasper.blogspot.com
Twitter- @rgreengapser

Noelle dreams of a different life, one where Trina Brockwell doesn’t exist. Trina has bullied Noelle since junior high. Now she’s tired of it. With the help of her black-sheep aunt and a defiant new classmate, Noelle seeks revenge. But vengeance comes with a price: Noelle risks friendship, her first love, and herself to get back at those who have wronged her.

Amazon- http://www.amazon.com/Outcast-ebook/dp/B009Z5A3PI/ref=sr_1_cc_2?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1353426297&sr=1-2-catcorr&keywords=outcast+by+susan
Smashwords-http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/250017
Barnes and Noble-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/outcast-susan-oloier/1113779699?ean=2940045052269

Website- susanoloier.blogspot.com
twitter- @narrawriter

Thank you, ladies for stopping by. If you want to see more from Rebecca and Susan, stop over at moxiewriters.blogspot.com and be sure to follow the rest of their tour as it’s sure to be interesting.

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Nano Pep Talk

So, how is everyone doing on their nano novel? I figured it was time for an update myself, and time to spread a little encouragement to my fellow writers.

Miraculously, I’m on target. But the next couple days are going to be hard as I try to get ahead for Thanksgiving. We have family coming into town and I know myself well enough to recognize that I won’t get any writing done while they’re here. With that on the horizon: full steam ahead.

We’re coming up on the end of the second week, which means we’re still making our way up the hump. Week two is probably the hardest part of Nanowrimo. You’ve lost some steam after week one, you’re staring at the blank page thinking “I have no idea what happens next”. And in week three everything starts to sound like it was written by a drunk zebra. But don’t despair. Remember it’s quantity that counts in this race, not quality. If you’re behind, there’s still time to catch up. And it gets better. By the end of the month you’ll be taking charge again. In that rush you’ll remember exactly why you wanted to write this novel in the first place, and the going will be easier.

So, keep plugging along. Don’t let the mid-month slump discourage you. And above all. Keep writing.

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Ready, Set, Nano!

So, if you haven’t been paying attention, yesterday was the first day of Nanowrimo. I got off to a good start, met up with some friends for a write-in, met my word quota (though didn’t get any extra written like I’d planned). If you were thinking about joining in but feel like it’s too late now, think again. In 2008 I started my first Nanowrimo nine days late. I heard about it at church and decided that afternoon that it was something I couldn’t miss. I finished on November 30th with about 50,200 words of a book called In the Company of Pirates. Still hoping to do something with that one someday.

My point is, you can still take a flying leap onto this bandwagon. Roll call in the comments, who’s in? If you’re already taking a chance with all the rest of us, you’re probably feeling excited and maybe a little overwhelmed already. Here are some last minute tips I forgot to include two weeks ago.

  • Don’t write in OpenOffice. OpenOffice has this weird word count voodoo where it counts quotation marks as words, inflating your word count and causing a panic on the last day when you realize you’re three hundred words short. Not a happy moment. Don’t do it. Use Scrivener or Microsoft Office. Avoid panic whenever possible.
  • Update your word count on Nanowrimo’s website often. Multiple times a day if you can manage it. This can be a bit distracting (especially if you get sucked into the “procrastination station”) but I find it really helpful to see progress and Nanowrimo makes this tangible with a handy dandy status bar. Super cool to watch it fill up. Scrivener’s project targets dialogue box is great for this too.
  • Word padding is a completely legitimate, accepted, touted, effective, and overall not cheating strategy. This is your chance to get away with all those pesky things you’re not supposed to let sneak into your writing. Throw in as many adverbs as you want, give your readers a lecture about the mechanics of REM sleep, repeat descriptions until you’re so sick of them you can’t help but come up with new and interesting ways to say flying, purple, gyrating kangaroos.
  • Tell everyone you know what you’re attempting. That way you’ll be too embarrassed to quit halfway through. Sounds kind of shallow but it works.
  • Never end a day not knowing what comes next. It feels all nice and neat to wrap up at the end of a chapter or a thought, but it’s very hard to get started the next day when you have no idea what the next scene or even sentence is going to be about. Some people say end in the middle of a sentence, but I have a little OCPD in me that makes this maddening.

So, what are you waiting for? Get busy and I’ll see you in a month.

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A Month of Nuts

Two Thursdays from now is November 1st, meaning Nanowrimo is less than two weeks away. Aah! For those who don’t know, Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month. The challenge is to write a 50,000 word novel (really more of a novella) during the thirty days of November. That’s 1667 words a day or approximately six double spaced pages. If you hit 50,000 words by the end of the month, you win! Your prize: the right to say “I’ve written a novel”.

I know it sounds daunting – 1600 words a day? Are you nuts? Well, yes, some of us are a little nuts when November rolls around. But you can be nuts too. What about that idea you’ve had burning a hole in the back of your head for year? Maybe it’s about time you go it on paper. Even if you have no idea what to write about, you’ve just always wanted to write a book, this is a great opportunity to get started.

And you won’t be alone. With over 300,000 writers participating around the world, you have a great support network and a community to cheer you on. You can check out nano activity in your region and join other local wrimos for write-ins. Once or twice a week you’ll get pep talks from other writers and published authors.

If you’re still in school and 50,000 words really is too much, there’s the Young Writers Program designed specifically for kids who want to write a book. They can participate individually or with their class and they set their own word count goals.

Thinking about jumping on the band wagon? Here are some tips to help you get started.

  • Get in the habit of writing every day now. You’ve still got a little less than two weeks. If you get used to writing just a few paragraphs a day, it’ll make those 1600 words seem a lot less daunting come November.
  • You can’t start writing the book until Nov 1st, but you can do as much planning as you like. You can jot down ideas, figure out major plot points, you can have the whole story outlined in color-coded marker if you want. I’m a pantser (I write by the seat of my pants). I go into Nanowrimo with very little structure. But even I benefit from doing a little research and getting the big stepping stones figured out before setting pen to paper.
  • Don’t edit as you go. The whole point of this is quantity, not quality. You’re trying to see what happens when you just let go. This is going to drive you nuts, guaranteed, but you have to ignore the little voice wailing in your head, otherwise you’ll never hit 50,000.
  • You’re going to get stuck. It’s a fact of life. The key is not to panic. Find some tips for writer’s block – here’s a couple to get you started. And if you’re really hurting, there are some tricks of the trade. Like adding something unexpected. How about a flying purple ninja. You can play with your character’s reaction for a couple pages until you get back on track. Who knows maybe the flying purple ninja will end up saving the day.

So, who’s going to join me on this crazy endeavor? If you need a writing buddy, look me up on Nanowrimo’s website. I’m kendramerritt85 and I’d love to see you there. I’m still on a fairytale kick. Last year was Beauty and the Beast. This year it’s going to be The Robber Bridegroom/The Singing Bone. Well? What’s yours going to be about?

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Kendra Does The Next Big Thing

I was going through my Google Reader last week and found an awesome surprise on my friend Becca’s blog. She tagged me for “The Next Big Thing”, and I’ve been having fun hopping around and reading about what everyone’s working on.

Since you guys have heard plenty about By Wingéd Chair already, I figured I’d give you a look at a brand new project. So new it’s not even on my WIP page yet. Save your gasps of awe till the end, please. The rules for “The Next Big Thing” are simple: answer a few questions about your book and tag more people who write, whose current WIPs you want to hear more about!

What is the working title of your book?

Right now I’m calling it The Robber Bridegroom because that’s the fairytale it’s loosely following (that and The Singing Bone, but it can’t have two titles). Not terribly exciting, I know, but titles are tricky things for me. Sometimes they’re the first thing I know about the story, but most of the time they don’t show up until I’m halfway through the book (Skin Deep didn’t show up until the last line, obstinate little bugger). At least The Robber Bridegroom is better than Magic Cop which was the file name for years.

Where did the idea come from?

Usually it’s easier for me to pinpoint the idea that spawns a whole book, whether it’s a scene like Blue Fire, or a concept like Catching Cinders. But this one is more of a patchwork of different thoughts and feelings, and it’s actually a really old idea. It’s been sitting in my futures notebook for several years waiting for a story to go with it. I wanted to write about a world where magic and technology have evolved side by side through an industrial revolution resulting in a setting that looks very similar to New York or London in the year 1900. A certain important plot element and its accompanying feelings came from a dream, one of those where I wake up scrambling for a pen. And some of the tone and themes were inspired by Boondock Saints.

What genre does your book fall under?

Young Adult Fantasy with kind of a thriller vibe

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I’d really rather there was never a movie version. Sorry. I write novels, not screenplays.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

A seventeen-year-old cop with OCD must reconnect with her vigilante father in order to catch a serial killer. What do you think? Is this any good? I think it sounds a little generic, and I can’t figure out how to fit the magic in without making it too long.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Kind of a cart and horse thing considering the stage of the project, but I’m nothing if not goal-oriented. I’d really like an agent and a publisher. I’m good at the writing stuff, but the legal and marketing stuff? Yeah, not so much. By Wingéd Chair is currently on submission to the first batch of agents, so we’ll see what comes.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Um…wait. It’s supposed to be done? Heheh. This is my newest project, and I haven’t actually started writing it yet, just getting it all in order. Lots more research than any of my others so far. But if it follows the normal patterns then I’ll get most of it (at least 50,000 words) on paper this November for Nanowrimo, and then I’ll spend the next two or three months hemming and hawing before I write down the end. I’m not sure why but this always happens.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Hmm. I hadn’t actually thought about this yet. I’m going to go with Tamora Pierce’s Terrier (because of the cop element and because Tamora Pierce is probably my deepest influence) and Maria V. Snyder’s Poison Study (because there are some lovely secrets and horrible pasts to conceal and discover and Snyder pulled this off with gut-wrenching style).

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Same thing as the rest in the Valeria series. I feel a need to read (and consequently to write) about unlikely heroes, characters who don’t fit the mold yet who still reach out and touch something in all of us.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

This is my first novel to feature a character with a disability entirely different from my own. Aschen, Merry, and Anwen all have trouble walking. Kallan has what we would recognize as OCD. So not only does she have to overcome a questionable past and a manipulative (and slightly psychotic) father, she also has to work around obsessions and compulsions that continually screw up her attempt to straighten out her life. The prospect of writing Kallan is both exciting and terrifying. I can’t wait to meet her.

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Bow Chicka

Recently, I was reading an article about JK Rowling, and I came across a quote that made me laugh and die a little inside at the same time. I decided I couldn’t leave this rather shallow and idealistic view of fantasy without a rebuttal. Rowling probably isn’t looking for an amateur writer’s opinion, so y’all get to listen to it instead.

Rowling was talking about her upcoming release, The Casual Vacancy, a contemporary adult novel, and how she was excited to branch out from the fantasy genre. I guess because she felt restricted. “There are certain things you just don’t do in fantasy,” she said. “You don’t have sex near unicorns. It’s an ironclad rule. It’s tacky.” Maybe I’m taking this the wrong way, but to me, she’s saying sex has no place in fantasy. Really? I’m sure Jacqueline Carey, Anne Bishop, and Marion Zimmer Bradley would love to hear about this rule they’ve obviously overlooked for the last fifty years or so.

I don’t know what rulebook Rowling is reading, but I’ve never felt like sex is taboo in fantasy. In fact, in my experience, it’s a genre where the boundaries can be tested and the envelope pushed without the social mores of the real world getting in the way. I’m talking about books like Anne Bishop’s Black Jewels series where magic is not so subtly bound up in sex and gender roles. Or Anthony and Lackey’s If I Pay Thee Not in Gold with a character who’s an incubus until the act of sex transforms him into a succubus. Or there’s Valen in Carol Berg’s Lighthouse duet who is addicted to a drug that converts pain into pleasure (not always in the context of sex, but it’s a good example of the envelope I’m talking about). There’s even a subgenre of erotic fantasy now, as illustrated by Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Dart.

Wow, from this angle my shelves look positively pornographic. Even if Rowling is talking specifically about the genre of the Harry Potter books, middle grade and young adult fantasy, her claim doesn’t make sense. Middle grade books probably shouldn’t have sex in them whatever their genre. However, plenty of young adult books, both fantasy and contemporary, deal with adult issues. Look at Tamora Pierce’s In the Hands of the Goddess and Simone Elkeles’s Perfect Chemistry. I don’t necessarily think that teenage characters should have sex, but that’s another issue entirely.

Fantasy is by definition fantastic. Full of magic, fairies, wizards, other worlds, whatever floats your boat. But it still has to be grounded in reality. We need anchor points, things we can relate to, otherwise we drift through the story without letting it really touch us. The themes, the morals, the emotions we’re supposed to be feeling sail right overhead because we can’t imagine how it applies to us. I’m not saying sex is required to make fantasy realistic. I’m saying that sex is real. It should be utilized as all other tools and plot elements are utilized: tastefully and appropriately, where a story calls for it.

Excluding sex seems very limiting for a genre that’s supposed to be the ultimate imagination getaway. And it’s naïve and incredibly silly to exclude it just because you think unicorns are too innocent for such worldly pursuits. So tell me, where do baby unicorns come from? And if unicorns are perceptive enough to tell the virgins from the deflowered, doesn’t that mean they’re well aware of sex and all its accompanying drama, if only to choose those who haven’t been touched by it?

I feel like Rowling hasn’t read very much at all in the genre she dominated for ten years. Not really a great way for an author to portray themselves. If she wanted to rectify the situation, I’d recommend she start with Mercedes Lackey’s Fortune’s Fool from the Five Hundred Kingdoms series where unicorns and sex share space in a single scene. The effect is hilarious and not at all tacky. Or even kinky.

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