See the Stars

Seasons?

2012-02-08T13:54:00.002-05:00

These two things happened within one week of each other. I suppose in some places, there is a season in between the leaves falling and the trees budding, but here in Florida, there is not.* This is also where my next novel is set, in the scary hot summer in the middle of the Green Swamp.

*Not bragging. I miss the snow in Virginia like you wouldn't believe.

My Desk

2012-02-02T14:33:00.002-05:00

Today's blog gives you a peek at my office space. Click on picture to enlarge it.

Field Trip to Find a Writing Muse

2012-01-24T10:32:00.006-05:00

I am currently about 5k into my latest WIP, and I decided to go out this past Sunday to do some field research. Translation: I was bored stiff and didn't want to sit in the house. So, I took Small Child to Lake Louisa State Park. Although, if you ask him, we went to see "forest" and "lake," because it is not officially a park unless it has a playground.

He was fascinated.

So was I. See this tree? See those branches? They go back to the ground and burrow underneath, kindof like it's clawing it's way across the path. I just know it has to make an appearance in my WIP.

Bonus points if you can tell me what kind of tree it is, because I'd really like to know.

And look at this. Can you picture a rambling mansion somewhere in there? Cause I can.

Can you spot the alligator?

So, that was my weekend. Much fun was had, and I'd love to go back and explore some more. Did you guys do anything fun this past weekend? Where do you go when you're bored and need a muse?

Trains and Writing

2012-01-16T08:56:00.003-05:00

To say Small Child is obsessed with trains is an understatement.

The other day when we were playing with one of his tracks on the floor, he got bored and tore up part of the track. Instead of getting mad, I created a new game. I called it, "Oh no! Ice!" inspired by The Polar Express. When the trains went off the track, they slid into an ice field and there was much chaos until the trains made their way back to the track. After a couple of rounds of that, to make it even more interesting, the trains ran into a field of dinosaurs who kept jumping in front of them and landing on the cars. Much fun was had by all.

As we were playing I got to thinking how our game applies to writing as well. Characters doing the same things over and over again gets boring. Going in circles for hours will make a reader close a book fast, but throw in an ice field or a herd of dinosaurs, and they just may keep reading.

Friday Fun!

2011-12-09T10:57:00.002-05:00

For all of you writers out there -- http://writtenkitten.net

Simply copy and paste your word count into the box and you get a new kitten for every hundred words (or however many words you choose.)

Link found at kellyrfineman's Live Journal page. Stop by and say hi.

Beware the Danger Punches!

2011-11-29T09:24:00.006-05:00

Over Thanksgiving, my family and I went on a Royal Carribbean cruise. If you've ever been on one of those ships, you know they have all sorts of cool things to do on board, many of which will earn you a danger punch.

You sign away your life on a waiver, and they punch your sea pass card. At first, we scoffed. And then, this happened:

After 40 minutes, I had a blister the size of quarter on my foot. I will spare you the pictures, but suffice it to say, I had to buy emergency flip flops, and a week later, I am still unable to wear any other shoes.
Fortunately, we all remained safe while doing this:

But then came roller blading where my brother in law tore something in his knee, and the water park where a friend fell off a 15' iceburg in a reverse belly flop.

In addition to those injuries, my mother in law hurt her rib on a chair, Small Child got a black eye from a bed, and my husband got his nose cracked by Small Child's hard little head. In fact, there was only one person in our party who escaped injury altogether. Needless to say, we stopped scoffing the danger punches, lest they heard us and inflicted more injuries upon us.

Beware the danger punches, my friend. Beware.

Realistic Characters

2011-10-27T10:46:00.001-04:00

I've been watching Terra Nova this season, because dinosaurs = yay! And I've been willing to forgive its other flaws, but since I write YA, this particular one bugged the snot out of me.

On a recent episode, a 16-year-old boy and girl were sharing their first kiss. The boy breaks away because he has a girlfriend 85 million years in the future. The girl he was kissing says (paraphrased of course), "It's okay. I still like you, and I will help you get your girlfriend here."

My immediate reaction was, "No self-respecting teenage girl whose only competition was 85 milliion years away would offer to bring that competition face to face with her."

My husband, who was watching with me, said, "Forget about the girl. No 16-year-old boy would stop kissing a pretty girl when his girlfriend was 85 million years away."

In any type of storytelling, there must not only be rich and interesting characters, but also characters that stay true to their age. For me, the scene felt more like a plot contrivance than something that would organically occur. However, I might have believed it if the couple was older. Perhaps the guy was married, and his wife was not allowed to come. For 16-year-olds, it simply didn't ring true for me.

So what do I take from this? When I'm writing, I need to strive for honest, real reactions from my characters. If an interaction doesn't feel right, perhaps that bit of business needs to occur with other people or under different circumstances. Will it always ring true for everyone? I doubt it. But it's a worthy goal.

The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater

2011-08-18T12:02:00.001-04:00

Where She Went by Gayle Forman

2011-06-05T12:44:00.003-04:00

I fell in love with If I Stay the first time I read it, but for me, once I turned that last page, I continued the book in my head, creating my own happy ending for Adam and Mia. So I was hesitant to pick up Where She Went. I didn't want my happy ending to be shattered. Well, I have to admit it was shattered, but brilliantly so.

I love this book.

When Adam fell into that void, so did I. When Adam wept, so did I. And when the ending came, I was blown away. Left with a hangover in the best possible way. I only hope that one day, I can write such powerful words and leave such lasting effects. Thank you, Gayle, for giving me an ending that I love even better than my own.

And now, can someone please recommend something light and fluffy?

Blood Red Road by Moira Young

2011-06-01T20:04:00.003-04:00

"Saba has spent her whole life in Silverlake, a dried-up wasteland ravaged by constant sandstorms. The Wrecker civilization has long been destroyed, leaving only landfills for Saba and her family to scavenge from. That's fine by her, as long as her beloved twin brother Lugh is around. But when a monster sandstorm arrives, along with four cloaked horsemen, Saba's world is shattered. Lugh is captured, and Saba embarks on an epic quest to get him back.
Suddenly thrown into the lawless, ugly reality of the world outside of desolate Silverlake, Saba is lost without Lugh to guide her. So perhaps the most surprising thing of all is what Saba learns about herself: she's a fierce fighter, an unbeatable survivor, and a cunning opponent. And she has the power to take down a corrupt society from the inside. Teamed up with a handsome daredevil named Jack and a gang of girl revolutionaries called the Free Hawks, Saba stages a showdown that will change the course of her own civilization." (Description from Goodreads)

Reasons you should read this book.

1. This is a dystopian that manages to break the mold that so many have fallen into lately. Namely, the "My world is perfect...wait...no, it's not," syndrome. There is never any assumption that this world or its inhabitants are perfect. But, it's very very real.

2. The prose is amazing. Moira Young shows so much of the world and Saba's character just through her language.

3. Saba is an unforgettable heroine -- flawed, courageous, determined, and loyal.

4. And the romance is hot. (That alone is enough for me.)

Seriously, read this book.

Forever Trailer by Maggie Stiefvater

2011-05-04T18:56:00.002-04:00

You know you want to see it.

And here's the link to purchase the book. Go. Now.

Critique partners, vacation, and fun

2011-04-08T10:46:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, Maggie Stiefvater posted a critique partner love connection over on her blog. I posted over there, but I figured I'd put my info here as well. I have a wonderful critique partner in Dianne K. Salerni, but I would love to have a second pair of eyes to look over my work. I am currently working on a revision of Spirit World, my ABNA entry from last year. As some of you know, I had queried it, gotten a lot of positive responses, but no offers. My cue to revise. Here's a brief description:

Riesa Adair can hear the dead, but somewhere between her summer in a mental institution and her stepfather’s attempt at an exorcism, she learned to keep quiet about it. But that doesn’t mean the voices have stopped. When her unique talents attract the attention of a powerful Spirit, her daily battles for sanity turn into a war for her soul.

It's YA paranormal romance, and I'm aiming for 75 - 80k in this revision.

Business stuff out of the way, I just got back from vacation. Cruising in the Bahamas with the family, Yay!

Good times were had by all until Small Child and I came home with a stomach virus. Not cool, Royal Caribbean. Not cool.

We also celebrated Small Child's second birthday.

He is wacky fun, and getting wackier every day. Here is his Jaws impression. He even makes the sound effects before he attacks.

Anyway, things are fast and furious here. The writing, the growing, the hijinks -- good times.

How to get free (or cheap) books

2011-02-12T13:58:00.010-05:00

There's been a lot of talk lately about book piracy. Instead of wagging my finger and saying, "No, no, no," I've decided to do a post on how I get my books without spending a lot of money. Now, I still buy lots of books (especially if I go to author signings because I want to support the hosting store), but these tips help take a dent out of what I spend.

1. Twitter - Book publishers often have Twitter only contests where all you have to do is retweet. HarperTeen is one of them. Penguin is another.

2. Book blogs - Some require you to follow them. Some don't. Some have lots of extra entries available, but that takes more work if you're willing to do it. Mundie Moms has contests all the time. As does The Story Siren. There are dozens more out there.

3. Publishers websites
Harper Teen - They have Sneak Peaks where you can often read the first 100 pages or so. They also have Full Access where the entire book is on their website for free.
Simon and Schuster - You can even sign up to receive an email when they post new ones.

4. Book giveaway sites
Free Book Friday
Free Book Friday Teens
Kids Buzz
Goodreads - This site is for cataloging and reviewing books you've read or want to read. But if you click on "find books", then "giveaways", you'll find dozens of pre-release books that you can enter to win. You must be a member of the site, but it's free to join.

5. Advanced Reader Copies - I don't request these because I don't review books on my blog. As a writer, I feel it's a conflict of interest. However, The Story Siren has a great post on how to obtain them.

6. Swag Bucks - It only takes 450 points to get a $5 Amazon card. I find that by playing their TV ads whenever I am in the room with a computer, I can get 450 points in a week or so. That means every 6 weeks, I have $25 to spend on Amazon, and can get free shipping. They also have deals where you can get half price gift cards for places like Amazon or BarnesandNoble.com. Plus, you earn swag bucks for making those purchases.
Disclaimer: If you are under 18, please consult your parents first.

7. Any gift giving occasions, ask for book gift cards. Usually you can get better prices online than in the stores, especially for new releases. Although if the gift card is for a local independant bookstore, all the better. That keeps the money in the community.

8. Library - Where I live, you are allowed library cards in not just your county, but in the adjoining ones as well. I live on the corner of 4 counties, and have library cards in 3 of them, so I have a huge database at my disposal. In my county, I can go online, request a book and they mail it to me for free. In the other counties, I request a book and they send it to the nearest library for me to pick up. This is awesome. Use these resources if you can. Plus, the greater their circulation, the greater their funding.

9. Copyright free books - There are many of these databases online where you can read classics for free.
Project Gutenberg

10. Check the e-reader options on Amazon - Sometimes publishers will offer new releases for free downloads in the first few days of release for publicity.

Well, that's a lot of options for free reading. And, if you are lucky enough to obtain a free book through contests or ARCs, and you love it, please tell the world. Because that's what free books are all about, getting the word out to new readers. is another.

Writing Woes (or Embracing the Difficult Ending)

2011-02-07T20:56:00.001-05:00

I've been working on my most recent novel, Princess, since May. I'm on version 4.2. Four because I have had 4 completely different endings, and .2 because of rearranged scenes, etc. (Yes, I'm a little bit OCD) And those different endings have been causing me undue amounts of stress. I could never find the right one for my characters and the story. Today, I finally hit on why. I had originally intended it to be a stand alone story. It's not. The characters have choices to make and not a single one of them will lead to an easy resolution - or a hard one - in 60 - 70 thousand words. Their world is changing. They're beginning a journey, and this particular novel is only the first step.

Now, why does this pose a problem? Because I have seen I don't know how many agents say things like they want a stand alone first novel, and if it sells, then they'll talk sequels. So I've been fighting with my story, not telling it as I feel it should be told, and trying to force it into a different shape, like I'm trying to reform a silly band.

Well, no more. I will let the story unfold as it should be. I will give it free reign, and if it's meant to be published, it will happen. If not, I will have one more novel under my belt, 70,000 more words of practice. But the story will be true.

Resolutions

2011-01-21T10:21:00.002-05:00

Today I went back and read my New Year's resolutions from last year to see if I came close to completing any of them. And then I laughed. So, instead of rehashing the resolutions I failed to accomplish because they were ridiculous to begin with, let's look at what I did accomplish.

1. I finished a pretty good draft of Spirit World, and I entered it in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel competition. I made it into the top 50 out of 5,000. Top 1%. I even got a pretty good review from someone from Publisher's Weekly via the contest. Not bad at all. Afterwards I did a few tweaks and submitted it to agents. I got 10 requests for either full or partials. And 6 nicely worded rejections. I assume the other 4 are rejections as well since I never heard from them. What did I learn? Spirit World was not ready to query. But I got some positive feedback as well as things to work on if I decide to revise and query again. I haven't made that decision yet because I'm busy at work on...

2. I started work in May on a new novel I tentatively titled Princess. I know that will not be it's final title, but it's what I call it for ease and consistancy. I'm currently on revision 4, and hopefully the last major one before I query. We'll see what my readers have to say about it after I finish revising.

3. I wrote quite a few short stories, trying to improve my writing. I think I succeeded at least a little bit in that capacity. I had a story published last year. Oddly enough, a vampire one. I try to stay away from them as rule because of the oversaturation in the market.

4. I won a contest for a 20 page critique from the amazing Tessa Gratton. (Who else can't wait to read Blood Magic?) I sent her the first 20 pages of Princess. She had some wonderful things to say about it, as well as some very constructive things which I am trying to apply to my entire work, writing and critiquing. I can't tell you how valuable her words were. Especially since her critique appeared in my email box the same day as Treetastophy 2010.

Also that same week, I met one of her critique partners, Maggie Stiefvater. She was doing a stock signing at a bookstore about an hour away and I made the trek out there. That meant the world to me, to be able to talk writing and books with Maggie freaking Stiefvater. OMG!

So, 2010 didn't turn out quite the way I had planned, but it was still good. Instead of making specific resolutions this year, I'm going to vague them up a little. I simply want to try to be the best writer I can be, and hopefully snag an agent along the way. If it's not with Princess or Spirit World, then maybe the next one. Or the next. Regardless, I plan to keep writing.

The Kindness of Strangers

2010-12-22T16:05:00.001-05:00

This morning, I took my son into PetSmart to look at the cats and birds. PetSmart is currently selling their holiday stuffed animal, a dog named Chance. 10% of the proceeds go to homeless animals. At some point this morning, a woman purchased Chance and said to give him to a child in the store. The cashier picked my son. To both this woman and the cashier, I say, "Thank you." My son loves the toy, and hopefully I will find a way to pay your kindness forward.

A Florida Christmas Parade

2010-12-11T20:06:00.011-05:00

Small Child and I had the pleasure of attending the Christmas parade in lovely Ft. Pierce, FL this past weekend. It was filled with everything you'd expect in a small town parade - Shriners, the 4-H club, dance teams. And then a few things you might not expect.

Here's McGruff the crime dog.

And then on the back of the McGruff float...the crime manatee?

Following that float (boat?) we have...um...McGruff. Again. This one wasn't lucky enough to ride on a float.

Next, we have Rudolph the 4-H horse.

And a bunch of little tiny painted horses. Seriously, there were like a hundred of them. But aren't they cute?

Small Child with his glow bracelet on one hand and a silly band shaped like a bank on the other. He loves those things.

Santa manatee

And the real Santa

And what Christmas parade would be complete without loot? Candy canes, life savers, and oranges.

O Christmas Tree

2010-11-22T20:47:00.002-05:00

Despite being a dancer, I've never been particularly graceful. This became proven fact on Saturday while I was attempting to retrieve a stack of books from behind the Christmas tree. I thought, Surely, I can fit between the tree and the book shelf.

Um, no. I could not.

As I wedged myself into the tiny space, the tree tilted. My arms flailed. I grasped at needles, and then at nothing as the fully decorated tree crashed onto the chair. Witness the photographic evidence.

I tried to pick it up, but stopped when I heard the pops and cracks of the tree stand breaking into little pieces. This was when my fail face appeared and did not go away until hubby managed to purchase a new stand at Target. We righted the tree and, and since we tie the ornaments on due to the small things that run around our house, discovered only one ornament casualty. Yes, we have a cat, a dog, and a 19 month old, and I'm the one to knock over the tree. Awesome.

At least it had a happy ending, and I've got a funny story. =)

Meeting Maggie Stiefvater

2010-11-19T18:28:00.006-05:00

One of my favorite authors, Maggie Stiefvater, was in town doing a stock signing at a local bookstore today. So, of course, I went down to get my books signed. And, of course, I dragged Small Child along.

Words cannot express the giddiness.

Writing with the Unwritten Sequel in Mind

2010-11-17T09:12:00.002-05:00

I have a novel that I've been querying. I've gotten a list of requests followed by some very helpful rejections. So, now I'm in the process of revising that novel. One of the comments I got was guy #1 wasn't fully realized, so I set about making him more well-rounded. I ran into road block after road block. Then, I realized the problem. Although this novel can stand on its own, I've created two sequels to finish out the story. The first sequel has been outlined. The second is only vaguely realized. Here are the basics.

Book 1 - MC falls for guy #1. He's fabulous, but then she realizes she loves guy #2.
Book 2 - Guy #2 goes away. After a long period of time, she decides it's time to move on and tries things again with guy #1. Guy #2 returns.
Book 3 - She never goes back to guy #1, and she and guy # 2 live happily ever after.

Last night, I started thinking, "What if guy #2 doesn't want her back? What if guy #1 is who she chooses in book 3?" That's when things started to clarify for me in book 1. I'm not saying the problem is completely fixed, but looking at the unwritten has definitely given me renewed inspiration for my rewrites in book 1.

One Reason I Stop Reading a Series

2010-11-09T15:01:00.004-05:00

Spoiler warning for Shadow Kiss (Vampire Academy Book 3) by Richelle Mead ahead. *Not a series I stopped reading.*

I read mostly YA series, and I've been noticing one trend popping up lately. Somewhere in the end of the 1st or 2nd book, the intrepid heroine gets together with her true love. Then, in the next book, she spends many many chapters swooning over him, stating how perfect they are for each other and how they're going to be together forever. All this does for me is throw up a red flag that says, "Warning: These two characters will no longer be together by the end of this book."

Boring. I don't want to know the end by page ten.

Let me give you an example of a plot reversal involving the intrepid heroine and her true love that I felt worked. In Shadow Kiss, Rose and Dimitri finally get together in act 3. But, because of the age difference and the fact that he's her teacher, they both know it's going to be anything but smooth sailing. Still, you have hope for them. Until a couple of chapters later when Dimitri turns evil.

This was a reversal I didn't see coming, and it provided Rose's motivation throughout the 4th book and part of the 5th one. Plus, bonus, I didn't have to sit through chapter upon endless chapter of Rose driveling on about how happy she was. I like it when my heroines aren't allowed to breathe until the very end of the last book. If they're happy for too long, it just gives me time to imagine all the nasty things that are going to happen to them. Things I want to happen to them.

What about you? What makes you stop reading a series?

Wow, Fail!

2010-09-24T15:10:00.002-04:00

Today I recieved a rejection on my full of Spirit World. Not horrific in itself because the agent offered some very nice compliments as well as some helpful feedback. However, I composed a thank you letter and hit send before I realized I had actually used a homophone for a word I had intended. Not cool for someone striving to be a writer.

FWIW, everyone seems to adore my depiction of the stepfather. At least that's a win.

Lazy Blogger, Random stuff

2010-09-14T14:58:00.004-04:00

Eep! I am quite the lazy blogger lately. But I have an excuse. Really I do. I was trying to get Princess ready for critique. Was I successful? Not entirely. You see, I wrote a zero draft, then majorly rewrote it, leaving me no time to actually read it through before handing it over. Can we say inconsistancies? Oh well. I needed someone else to look at it anyway. Having been staring at that book since May, nothing in it made sense to me anymore.

News:

I won a blog award from Tessa Quin over at The Quest for a Literary Agent. Check out her blog.

My short story Innocent Blood will be released in an anthology later this month.

I got a form rejection for Spirit World this morning. However, it was quickly followed by "in my haste to request your manuscript, I accidentally rejected it instead!" It was a request for a partial. Yay.

How are you all doing out there?

Defining Dystopia

2010-08-17T15:39:00.006-04:00

Recently I posted the first five pages of my WIP, Princess, for critique. It is set in the future after a catastrophic event, but I do not call it dystopian. After reading those five pages, several people said they would call it that. While I know that's something that can be difficult to discern after only five pages, their comments led me to examine my definition of dystopian fiction.

For my purposes, I will use Hunger Games as an example. I believe dystopian novels are driven by the problems in that world. If you place Katniss in present day Appalaccia (which is where she's from), you wouldn't have a story.

In my novel, the main character is Adria. Yes, the world fell apart prior to her birth, but that doesn't affect the story I'm telling. If I placed Adria in modern day Colorado, the heart of the story would be the same. She grows up, sheds her innocence, and learns about the world around her. I could have set it anywhere, but I felt the future I created added color and flavor to her story. Something unique.

That's why I maintain my story is not dystopian. What are your thoughts? How would you define dystopia?

TELL ME A SECRET by Holly Cupala

2010-08-02T21:59:00.000-04:00

RWA Literacy Autographing

2010-07-29T10:10:00.008-04:00

The Dolphin hotel at Disney World was full of win yesterday. And by win, I mean fabulous authors whom I love and adore. Here are the few I met.

Myself, Small Child, Morgan Ashbury, and Kelley Armstrong. Morgan is actually part of my online writing group over at Kelley's website.

Simone Elkeles

Sarah MacLean

Meg Cabot

The Princess and the Pea: A Haiku

2010-07-24T20:24:00.000-04:00

To lie on these beds
and feel the wrath of the pea,
sucks ever so much.

Poem inspired by the Merry Sisters of Fate.

Writing Links

2010-07-14T13:26:00.004-04:00

Hey, everyone. I have a couple of links I wanted to share today. The first is over at kidlit.com, one of my favorite agent blogs. This post is for people to find critique partners. My info is there in the fifth comment.

The second link I wanted to share is Writeoncon. It's a free online convention arranged by several writers. It officially begins August 10th, but you can introduce yourself and do some practice critiques before then. I'm there under KrysteyBelle.

I'm still working on Princess. I just finished the mid Act 2 climax, and hope to have a complete rough draft by the 10th. I'm also editing a short story about vampires. Yippee.

What are you all up to?

Updates

2010-06-26T17:12:00.003-04:00

Well, I'm sitting at home on a Saturday evening (my anniversary of all days) with a nasty stomach flu. Ick. So, I thought I'd throw a little blog out there. This month has been super busy. I've been editing and querying Spirit World. On top of that, the family and I went on a cruise. Good times were had but unfortunately Carnival has nothing for babies. Small Child was not allowed in the pool areas, and was only allowed in the playroom four hours the entire week. We kept him entertained by letting him crawl up and down the halls and up the stairs. Then, when we got back, he started walking. Lord, help me.

So, needless to say I've gotten very little new writing down. I seem to be stalled out on Princess. I've made it to the end of the first act, and know how the second act ends, as well as the rest of the book, but am not sure how to fill in those 10,000 words I'm lacking. I'm going to go ahead and write the bits I do know, and see what happens then. Maybe the characters will tell me.

Fun Links

2010-06-02T09:34:00.003-04:00

The other day, I opened my email to find a wondrous surprise, I had won the May prize pack from The League of Extraordinary Writers. Yay. Books and swag! If you enjoy dystopian novels, I highly recommend you check them out. Plus, they get bonus points from me by discussing Joss Whedon's Firefly today.

Another blog and webiste I've been visiting frequently is QueryTracker.net. You can search for agents and it's instantly visible whether they accept submissions by mail, email, or forms. You can then save your searches and record the responses. Rejections get evil emoticons. It's fabulous. They also have frequent agent judged contests, but you have to be quick on the draw. They do, however, give you plenty of notice as to when the contest opens.

FYI, I don't post a lot of links on my blog. More often, I'll put them on my Twitter page. If you're interested, the link for that is on the side.

I need a good YA love story

2010-05-24T14:45:00.002-04:00

I want something along the lines of Perfect Chemistry or Rules of Attraction, but with a little more substance.

Rule #1: It must have a happily ever after ending.
Rule #2: It can be paranormal like Shiver or any of those other ones out there, or just a straight up love story.
Rule #3: It must be YA.

Any suggestions?

Writing Fail

2010-05-16T14:46:00.005-04:00

I've been pretty scarce around the blogosphere lately. I can lay blame partically on the fact that I was out of town, but I'd be lying if I said that was the complete reason. No, the real reason is I just haven't known what to write, on my blog and in my actual writing. I was in the middle of my third complete rewrite of The Changing Moon, and I realized I still wasn't happy with it. So I shelved it, temporarily. Now that I've got a few days behind me, I think part of the reason was because there just wasn't enough tension. Donald Mass says to put tension on every page, and I wasn't doing that. It was a pretty story, but pretty stories don't sell novels. So, now that I've realized that, I'm going to let it simmer in my brain for a little longer while I work on something else.

That something else is a plot bunny that's been hopping around for a while now. It's a simple coming of age story called Princess with nothing paranormal involved. It's a change for me, but I think that's what I needed.

I did a post a while back on first lines here. So, I thought I'd share with you the (tentative) first line of Princess.

"My father tells stories of the time before the Great Flood, of the expansive cities where corruption danced through the hearts of every man, where fathers let their daughters run wild in the streets, where desire stalked on every corner and shame haunted every mind."

What do you guys do when you love a story, but you find it simply isn't working for you?

Edited to add: Of course as soon as I posted the first line, I changed it. That's now the second line.

Linger Trailer

2010-05-11T09:36:00.002-04:00

Hey guys. Sorry for the silence, but I've been gone for the past week watching my sister graduate with her Master's Degree. It was full of win.

Now onto the real reason for my post. Maggie Stievater just posted her trailer for Linger. Are you as excited about this book as I am?

Pitches and Critiques

2010-05-02T13:21:00.004-04:00

Last week I posted about how Spirit World made it into the semifinals, and someone requested I do a post on how I did it. Well, I can only share what I feel worked for me.

1. The first round of the contest is a pitch, which I looked at like a query. CreateSpace (where you submit your entry) has a place where you can display your pitch/part/all of your work for review. You can write up to 5 questions for those reviewing your work. I asked them to identify the strongest and weakest part of my pitch, as well as any suggestions. Maybe two or three of the responses I got were helpful. Some simply left one or two stars with no explanation. So not helpful. It could have been they simply didn't like the genre, but they didn't tell me so I just discounted them.

While I don't have the exact pitch on hand, it looked something like this:

Riesa Adair hears voices. The scratchy, mind numbing, get into your nightmares and throttle you til you cry kind of voices. And her stepfather doesn’t help. His plan to “cure” her includes beatings, group homes, and exorcisms.

When her unique talents attract the attention of a powerful Spirit, the mental attacks grow more aggressive, the bruises come more frequently, and her emotions spin out of control. Enter Garrett, a man with a similar “gift”. With his help, Riesa discovers the immense power lying dormant within her. But will that be enough when they travel to the Spirit World and find themselves engaged in a battle against those voices personified?

The novel, which is written in first person narrative, details Riesa’s struggles and triumphs as she travels the road from troubled teenager to the beginnings of adulthood. She must face tragic circumstances that take away her best friend, her freedom, and her love, and still summon the strength she needs to fulfill her destiny.

2. What I feel was more helpful was having someone from my writing group critique the work. If you are doing any sort of writing, I highly recommend joining a writing group or finding a critique partner. I'm not talking about a friend or family member to gush about your work. I mean someone who is well read in your genre, and isn't afraid to rip your work to shreds. Someone whose work you can critique in return. I have learned so much about my own writing by critiquing others' work.

A few weeks ago, there was a post on Kidlit.com where people were invited to advertise for critique partners. You can find that post here. There are 103 comments listing people looking for partners.

I am also part of an online writing group. http://www.kelleyarmstrong.com/cgi-bin/ikonboard.cgi? It's free to join, but you do have to ask. Just scroll down to "online writing group" and read the instructions.

3. Have someone read your entire manuscript before submitting it anywhere. This is something I did not do, but definitely will before I start querying.

Again, if you haven't read the first chapter, it's still available here, or by emailing me at belle5678 at yahoo dot com. And if you have read it and liked it, head on over to Amazon and leave a review. I'm not sure if they take those into account, but it couldn't hurt.

Deleted Scenes: Spirit World

2010-04-30T14:08:00.002-04:00

Spirit World End of Chapter 1
The walk home was too familiar. Connor's arm kept my body from staggering and falling into the slush piles on the side of the road, but it didn't keep my head from doing the same. Why had the world slowed down when all I wanted was a warm bed with a pillow that would settle the twirling nausea? Walking through a swishy haze always keeping a convenient throw up spot in sight is wearying.

After about seven lifetimes, we reached the staircase leading up to his garage apartment. I took the steps two at a time, cringing at the ridiculously loud creaks in the wooden stairs, and waited impatiently for him to reach the top, shove his keys in the lock, and open the door so I had access to that precious porcelain bowl.

I ran straight for the bathroom, and amongst the chokes and sobs, I lost everything I had eaten in the past two days. Connor's hands parted my hair and held it back in a loose ponytail to save me the embarrassment of decorating myself. His presence calmed me, and his warm hands sent shocks of tenderness through my body.

When my stomach ached with a hollow emptiness, I looked up at him through the blur and saw the pain and love in his eyes. "Thank you," I choked out.

"You okay?" He used a warm washcloth to wipe the shakes from face.

I fell back against the tub and put my head between my knees. "I think I'm done if that's what you're asking."

"Come on, then. I don't want you sleeping in here." He grabbed my hands, and helped me to my wobbly feet and back to the bedroom.

I stopped at the side of his bed to remove my jeans, which had gotten wet from the outside ick.

"Riesa," he gasped.

I followed his eyes to my right thigh, and the giant, purple bruise forming there. My breath sucked out of me, my legs gave out, and I crashed into him.

He maneuvered me into bed and pulled me onto his chest where I soaked his shirt with my gulping child sobs. He hummed into my ear until the tears were replaced with shuddering gasps, and finally the silence of my sleep.

Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards

2010-04-27T17:17:00.000-04:00

Holy freakin' cow, you guys. Spirit World made it to the semifinals!

Short Story Contest

2010-04-26T16:26:00.004-04:00

You guys, I entered a short story contest and I need your votes. That is, if you are so inclined. Here is the link: http://www.radiantprose.com/entry/view/292 I've posted the story here as "Vermillion's Story", but renamed it for the contest. Since it's original purpose was as a character sketch, I had never really thought up a name.

Thank you. And if you'd like to help even more, spread the word. =)

Then and Now: Part 2

2010-04-23T09:31:00.002-04:00

Okay, here's the revised version. It's still a long way from being finished, but I feel that it's at least a stronger opening. What are your thoughts?

Alsa had never seen a star. Or the moons. Terrneo had too many layers of smog to allow for such wonders. But as the transport shuttle broke through the planet’s atmosphere and into the inky blackness of space, the glowing bodies surrounded her.

Under normal circumstances she would have been thrilled, but that particular day, or night since the sun was nowhere to be seen, she couldn’t summon up the strength to be excited about anything.

She simply took a deep breath and sighed, letting her breath form a little cloud on the window. Then, using her pinky finger, she traced a stick figure tree into the cloud.

“Why am I here?” she whispered to herself. Of course, she knew the answer. But severing the past was rarely simple, especially when you hadn’t been given a choice.

Then and Now

2010-04-20T19:48:00.004-04:00

Hi, guys. First off, thanks to those of you who sent their well wishes yesterday. I took Small Child to the doctor today, and she didn't seem to think it was a brown widow (which I know we have at our house) or a brown recluse spider bite. That was quite a relief to me since we have both of those here in Florida. She said it could be anything though, and gave me a topical antibiotic as well as an oral one with instructions to come back if it gets worse. Let's hope it doesn't.

That said, I really don't have the motivation to do the blog post I had planned, so I'm doing a sort of "Then and Now" on my own work.

About a year ago, I wrote my first manuscript. I was proud I had actually completed one, but when I finished my second, the first seemed, well, pitiful by comparison. But I really loved the world, so my third manuscript is a massive rewrite of that first one. Even the names are different. Following is the opening section of that first manuscript, titled Lunarbor Summer. Let's see how my writing has changed in a year.

I sat on the shuttle gazing out the window at about a gazillion stars. Sandwiched between the planet below me and the moon above, I had a view few people ever saw. With all of the smog down on the planet, the people were lucky to get a glimpse of any stars, let alone this tapestry of little sequins glued onto the night sky.

I took a deep breath and sighed, letting my breath form a little cloud on the window. With my pinky finger, I traced a tree into that cloud.

I had already been in flight for several hours. In that time I had read two books, taken a nap, and counted the number of floor lights…twice. Now with nothing left to do that truly interested me, I let my thoughts take me away. I reflected back to the night that served as a catalyst bringing me to this moment.

Okay, there's a setting, but not a very clear one. There's no hint of the plot, not a clue about the mc's character, and to tell the truth, I don't think you can tell how she feels right now. She seems happy to see the stars, but then she sighs like she's depressed. Hmm. On Friday, we'll see if the new draft has improved.

Day Off. Resuming Life Tomorrow

2010-04-19T09:37:00.002-04:00

Ordinarily, my blog schedule is as follows:

Mondays - Read/discover something wonderful about writing. Blog about it.
Thursdays - Post some of my own writing. Usually some experiment or character study.
Other days -Occasional random stuff

You may have noticed that today is Monday, and this blog post doesn't resemble anything related to writing. That is because I was up all night worried about my 1 yo who has nasty, unexplained bug bites on his head, and my sick husband. My brain is unresponsive.

Tomorrow, I will return with my planned blog post for today. Characters. Until then, sleep well.

Short Story: Vermillion's Story

2010-04-15T10:53:00.003-04:00

June 5, 1954

“Go ahead, Millie. Open it.”

I stared at the small white box in my hands. There was no wrapping, no card, because Calvin didn’t believe in frilly extras. That was one of the many things I loved about him.

With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid. Inside lay a golden object nestled on top of a piece of cotton.

“A key?” I asked.

A sly grin slid across his face. “Happy graduation.”

“What’s it for?”

“Well, you don’t want to live in the dorms this fall, do you? It’s for our apartment.”

I dropped my eyes to my lap, and sighed. “Cal, we’ve been over this. You know my parents rule.”

“I know.”

I felt, more than saw, him shifting a little closer to me. And when I looked up, there he was on one knee. Well, as much as was possible in the backseat of his ’48 Chevy.

There, between his fingers, sat a tiny, golden ring sparkling in the dim evening light. “Millie, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

My breath whooshed out of me, and if it weren’t for the insistent voice in the back of my mind telling me to say yes, I don’t think I would have ever answered his question. “Yes. Oh God, yes.” I threw myself onto him and smothered him with kisses, which he eagerly returned.

A little while later…okay, a long while later, he pulled back to ask, “Don’t you want to at least make an appearance at Bette’s party? So she can tell your parents you were there.”

“No, I don’t.” A warm feeling pulsed through every nerve, and I felt like I might explode if I separated myself from Cal for even a minute tonight. “I wouldn’t mind going to our apartment though.”

He studied my face before asking quite seriously, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” I was more sure about him than anything else in my life.

“Millie,” he whispered. He cupped my face in his hand, his thumb brushing across my cheek. I nuzzled into him and closed my eyes.

His hand tensed. That was the first sign that something was wrong. I opened my eyes, knowing perfectly well what I would see, but unable to stop myself from looking. His eyes had glazed over, and he was whispering answers to someone unseen.

“No, Cal. Not tonight.” I grabbed his shoulders, trying to draw his attention back to me. “Come on. Any night but tonight. Please.”

He continued to mutter words not meant for me.

“No no no no no. Cal. Please.” Tears burned my eyelids as I realized my protests were futile. “Cal,” I cried one last time.

And then he blinked. “I’m sorry, Millie.”

“No. You listen to me. You are not leaving me tonight, Calvin. I don’t care how important it is. It can wait until tomorrow.”

His beautiful grin crept back onto his face and rushed through his eyes. “Even if they asked for you too?”

“Even if…what?” What he was saying couldn’t be true. The Ghosts spoke to me too. But they never asked me to come to their world. Not yet, anyway. It was one of their rules. “But I’m not eighteen until next month.”

“It’s just a meeting. Nothing dangerous.” His fingers flowed through my hair, and pride flowed through his words. “You’ve been trained well. It’s time.”

“Really?” After years of being left behind, first by my uncle who trained us, and then by Calvin since he came of age last year, I was finally getting to travel to the Spirit World, to see the things I had been taught (and warned) about my entire life.

But despite the excitement dancing up my spine, I still had no idea how to react. “I don’t…what am I supposed to do?”

“Come.” He twisted his fingers through mine and pulled me out of the car. “I’ll show you.” It was a short walk down to the beach, the crossroads between land and sea. Uncle Stew had drilled the importance of crossroads into my brain since before I could talk. If we didn’t cross over there, we wouldn’t reach the Spirit World in one piece. The fact that it was twilight, another crossroads, made it even better. It would only take a simple thought, and we would both slide from our world into theirs.

Cal took my hands and gave me my favorite smile. “You ready?”

I nodded. I’d been ready ever since the day Uncle Stew had brought me down here and let me practice. He wanted to make sure I knew how, just in case. I never asked what he meant by “just in case.”

Regardless of his intentions, the practice had served its purpose. Because now, when I closed my eyes, I knew exactly what to do, what to feel for, and it felt like second nature as I let their world pull me through.

The second I arrived, before I even opened my eyes, I tasted the hot, dry, dusty landscape. I knew when night came the temperature would do a flip-flop into the frozen zone. But who knew when that would be. Time ran differently here.

“Do you have any questions?” he asked me.

I stared down the long, dirt road in front of me. “No. Just lead the way.”

Being here, actually being here was enough to leave me speechless. Despite the years of lessons, both practical and theoretical, I had never imagined what their world would feel like. Now I knew, and it left me both exhilarated and terrified.

So many nights I had begged to join “the adventures” as I had called them. The answer was always no, and I was left to sit by the living room window waiting impatiently for the return of my loved ones.

So, yes, it was a thrill to finally be here, to be a part of “the adventures.”

The terror came from a different spot. It lived somewhere in my consciousness, and reminded me of the people who never came back for their loved ones, the people whose lives had been brought to a quick and often painful end. The ones my uncle, when he recounted his tales, never told me about.

Cal led me to a small village. There were buildings, but you couldn’t really call them houses, or even shacks. The closest I could come to describing them was a memory from when I was very young. My mother and I took a train into the city one day, and near the rail yard, I saw children my age sitting outside dwellings just like the ones in front of me. It was wintertime, and the spaces between the boards were so large, I could see inside where snow spotted the dirt floors. I asked my mother if the children lived there. She shushed me, and walked very quickly past them.

“We’re here.” Cal pointed to a lean to about ten feet away.

I stopped in my tracks, refusing to move another inch.

He turned me to him and squeezed my hands. “It’s going to be fine. You were born for this, remember?”

Two deep breaths later, I walked with him to the door. He gave a complicated series of knocks, and a drab looking woman ushered us inside.

There was an unlit fireplace on the side opposite the door, and two windows on either side of the one-room house. A few furnishings such as a bed, table, and chairs were scattered here and there, but other than that the place was empty of decoration.

Far too many people milled around in the tiny room. I knew some had the gift like Cal and I; but some were Ghosts, humans who had passed on and decided to stay in the Spirit World. They were the ones who spoke to our minds, asking for help in their fight against the malevolent Spirits, and lending us guidance in our own lives when we most needed it.

I didn’t know what I should do, but Cal did. He introduced me to Sam, a grizzled old Ghost I had never met, but had spoken with frequently through the special link in my mind, the gift I had inherited from Uncle Stew.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Millie. Where’s Stew tonight?” Sam asked.

“He’s sick. Maybe next time,” I answered.

“Ah, you tell him to get himself well, ya hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

The drab looking woman interrupted, calling out over the small roar of conversation, “Okay, if everyone could find a place to sit, we’re going to get started.”

“That’s Ellie. She’s one of the leaders here, a very old Ghost,” Cal whispered in my ear. “Come on.” There weren’t many chairs so he sat down on the dirt floor near the fireplace and pulled me onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around mine, and lovingly fiddled with the new addition to my ring finger. My heart skipped several beats at his touch, and the feel of his warm breath on my cheek.

I was born for this, I repeated to myself. Cal and I both were. And tonight, even though it was just a meeting, I felt like it was our first “adventure” together. One of many.

Exhilaration permeated the silent room as we waited for Ellie to speak.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Ellie said. “I found out some disturbing information today, and I -”

A patterned knock sounded at the door, the same one Cal had used.

“Just a minute,” Ellie excused herself and opened the door. From the confused look on her face, I could tell no one was there. A murmur traveled through the crowd as she bent down to pick up a piece of paper on the doorstep. She read it aloud. “Goodbye?”

Then, the world exploded.

Fireballs shattered the windows and flew down through the fireplace. Screams erupted all around me as the tiny shack flared up in angry flames. Everyone bolted for the door, the ones who could at least. Some were too badly injured by flying glass or trapped under fallen debris.

I was one of them.

The second the attack came, Cal pushed me out of his arms and toward the door. I didn’t make it that far. The bricks from the fireplace tumbled down on top of me and buried me in a pile of rubble. I couldn’t move, not even a finger.

“No!” he screamed. “Millie!” He dug frantically around me, throwing bricks anywhere he could. The instant fire growled all around us, and the smoke was so thick my breath came in gasps and chokes.

My mind drifted away from me, and I had that moment to marvel at how quickly the fire had spread. It was pretty much all I could see, and definitely all I could feel. Ash fell in clumps and sizzled into my skin. I wanted to cry out, but I didn’t have the breath. Smoke clouded my eyes, and tears tried to wash it away. But it was too much.

“Millie, come on.” Cal must have gotten me uncovered because I felt him pulling on my arms and lifting me up. I floated among the crackles and pops, traveling somewhere that I hoped was not here.

I could see again. The smoke was thinning and I looked into Calvin’s eyes as he carried me out of the inferno. A symphony of creaks and moans shivered the air.

A saw it, but it was too late. A flaming support beam gave way and pummeled itself into Calvin’s back, knocking him forward and me sprawling onto the ground. Now he was the one trapped, under that damn beam.

“Cal! Somebody help me!” I didn’t know if there was anyone left to help us, but I called out just the same. The beam was too heavy for me to lift by myself, so I grabbed his arms and pulled. “Come on. Help me, Cal.” I pulled and pulled, and he didn’t move.

“Millie, go,” he whispered. “Get out of here.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not. I can’t get free. It’s too late.”

The beam flamed across his back, and I screamed. Wordless sounds that had no form, no meaning.

“Millie!” Other voices called my name.

“Help,” was all I could manage. “Help us.”

“I love you, Millie.” Cal’s voice was nothing more than a whisper as I pulled and pulled on his limp arms. They didn’t budge. Unfamiliar hands wrapped around my arms and lifted me to my feet.

“No,” I cried. “Cal. Get him out.”

“He’s gone. Come on,” someone said.

Those same hands tugged at me, pulling me away and into the clean air. I resisted, but they were stronger than me. I reached for Cal’s hands as they moved further and further away from my grasp. I fought. I kicked. I screamed. “No. No! NO! CAL!!!!!!”

The house collapsed in on itself just as I was yanked free from its clutches.

“Shh, Millie. Shh.” Arms rocked me, hands pressed my face against a shoulder.

Shudders and coughs fought their way out of my mouth, but no words. No words would come. Maybe not ever again.

I found my way home. I don’t know if someone brought me, or if I got there on my own. My memory was gone, and I didn’t ask it to come back.

I lay in my room for hours, days, weeks. I don’t know. My mother tended my burns. My uncle held my hand. My father worked because he didn’t know how to deal with stuff like this.

Sam tried to contact me, but I pushed him out of my mind just like Uncle Stew had taught me. It was a skill we needed in order to keep some part of our minds private.

Summer played before me, a time when I was supposed to be preparing for college, moving into my new apartment, and planning a wedding. Instead, I barely managed to exist. Someone signed me up for classes and got all of that done.

Someone cleaned out Cal’s apartment and brought me a box full of things that might be meaningful to me.

The box sat unopened.

My ring sat hot on my finger.

I just sat.

Sometimes, I read. Occasionally, I slept. Mostly, I cried.

Then, one day, I woke up. Not just in body, but in mind too. Sulking wouldn’t bring Cal back. That was done. But there was something I could do.

I placed myself in a relaxed position, found my way to the gift in my mind that spoke to Ghosts, and called out, “Sam?”

“Millie?” his voice echoed through my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“What do you need me to do?” Emptiness and pain ran through my voice, but at least I was reaching out, willing to do something.

He paused, long enough to say volumes. He wasn’t sure what to tell me, whether I could handle it. “We were betrayed. I don’t know who gave away the location, but we need to find them before anyone else gets…”

“Killed.” I said it. The word had a bitter taste, like black licorice dipped in lemon juice. Underneath the word, my heart hummed with that same bitterness. We need to find them he had said.

“So, are you in?”

Terrifying images replayed through my mind. Betrayed. Cal. We need to find them.

“Millie?”

I looked down at the beautiful golden ring that circled my finger. If I squinted hard enough, I could barely make out Cal’s fingerprints. We need to find them. Angry pain flared up inside of me, burning and crackling until everything was used up. Anything that was left felt like hardened cement.

“Are you still there?” Sam called again.

I dug through my jewelry box and found a simple silver chain. I threaded two things onto it: a ring and a key.

“Vermillion! Are you in or out?”

I clasped the chain around my neck, and with steel in my heart and ferocity in my voice, I answered, “I’m in.”

Frustration

2010-04-13T09:37:00.005-04:00

I'm taking a break from my regularly scheduled programming today for a self-indulgent whine.

Why do I read reviews? I don't know. I guess I'm just a masochist at heart. It seems for every good review I get of Spirit World, I get something negative. I try to take criticism as constructive and use it to figure out what I could do to improve my writing. Today, I just want to vent, so please indulge me.

The latest review said some nice things, but mentioned my grammar as a weak point. Okay, I've gone over it with a fine tooth comb and have had several people in my writing group critique it for me as well. Aside from that, I am teacher and I know grammar. If there are errors in there, I assure you they are intentional.* The novel is written in first person, and thoughts as well as dialogue are not always grammatically correct. End rant.

Thanks for listening, and I will be back on Thursday with another short story. Also, I promise not to whine again at least until I get my review from Publisher's Weekly. After that, I can't make any promises. =)

*That said, if you have read it and found a missed comma or something, I am of course willing to listen.

First Chapter of Your Novel Part 4: Grounding

2010-04-11T19:30:00.003-04:00

One of the problems writers often have in their first pages is allowing the MC to drift into his/her mind and dwell on problems, ideas, the weather, etc. without bringing us directly into a scene. We have no idea where the MC is or what he/she is doing. That's where grounding comes in...letting the reader know where they are in space instead of floating around inside the MC's head.

Instead of pulling examples from books, I decided to do something different. This week, I'll be experimenting with my own work to see how it turns out. This excerpt is from my next work in progress. Keep in mind, I have only just begun the character profiles. There is no outline or manuscript yet. The first page is just something I jotted down to keep it fresh in my mind until I had the chance to get to it.

Version #1

I remember the day I was born, the squishy way my head felt, the strange ladies poking and pricking me, the fuzzy outline around everything.

My mom says it’s just my imagination. She says, “If your memory is that good, Bea, why aren’t you doing better in school?”

I say, “Because my head is too full for school.”

She shakes her head and says, “I swear you’re going to end up a writer, just like my mother.”

I say, “I don’t want to be a writer. I want to fly airplanes.”

She says, “Then, you’d better get your grades up.” Because everything always comes back to school.

The truth is I remember a lot of things I’m not “supposed” to. I remember the tingles in my fingers and my heart when I fly a plane. Not the kind you take on vacation to Disney World. The kind like Amelia Earhart flew, with the tiny bodies and propellers. I remember getting married in a long white wedding dress with a high itchy collar. I remember escaping from a mansion with fat columns in front and scorching flames bursting from the windows. I remember living on a farm, and the smell of cows and hay that stuck in my clothes. All of those things float through my mind from the moment I flop out of bed til the moment I flop back in it.

I like them for the most part. I’m never bored, that’s for sure. But there is one memory I try not to ever think about, the one that only pops up when the nightmares come, and makes me shiver underneath my covers until the sunlight burns it away.

I remember being murdered.

Version #2 - essentially the same scene, but I added a location and tension.

I remember the day I was born, the squishy way my head felt, the strange ladies poking and pricking me, the fuzzy outline around everything.

So when my mom tried to tell me the story of my birth in her fifth “re-bonding” attempt of our road trip, I finally broke.

“I remember, okay?” I said, digging my ipod out of my backpack so I could drown her out. “Can we just not talk for a while?”

“Well,” she said with a pinched face while staring out the front window of our PT Cruiser. “If your memory is that good, why aren’t you doing better in school?”

I twisted sideways in the passenger seat, and leaned my forehead against the window. I should have known better than to say anything. She never believed me. “Because my head is too full for school.”

She sighed, the same way she had been sighing at me for the past two days, ever since the two of us had packed all of our belongings into the little Uhaul trailer, attached it to the back of our car, and drove away from Dad. “I swear you’re going to end up a writer, just like your father.”

I plugged my ear buds into my ears, hit shuffle, and tilted my head to the sky. “I don’t want to be a writer,” I said quietly. “I want to fly airplanes.”

“Then, you’d better get your grades up,” she said, because everything always came back to school.

The truth is I remember a lot of things I’m not “supposed” to. I remember the tingles in my fingers and my heart when I fly a plane. Not the kind you take on vacation to Disney World. The kind like Amelia Earhart flew, with the tiny bodies and propellers. I remember getting married in a long white wedding dress with a high itchy collar. I remember escaping from a mansion with fat columns in front and scorching flames bursting from the windows. I remember living on a farm, and the smell of cows and hay that stuck in my clothes. All of those things float through my mind from the moment I flop out of bed til the moment I flop back in it.

I like them for the most part. I’m never bored, that’s for sure. But there is one memory I try not to ever think about, the one that only pops up when the nightmares come, and makes me shiver underneath my covers until the sunlight burns it away.

I remember being murdered.

Let me know what you think.

Short Story: The Accident Part 2

2010-04-07T21:53:00.003-04:00

Somewhere in the darkness, a rock tumbles. Alsa shines her light in that direction. A strong, bloody hand pushes through a wall of rubble.

“Look,” Alsa calls. But Jushen is already there, dragging away any bits of rock he can lift. Alsa helps by moving what she can, and squeezing the hand, letting its owner know she is there. He squeezes back. For all she knows, it could be her father’s hand, and that thought both terrifies and encourages her.

They move rocks for over an hour, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. For every one they move, another tumbles down and takes its place.

“Hang on. We’re coming,” Alsa whispers. She doesn’t know if the man can hear her, but she wants to at least try. His hand is weaker now, and if she can give him even a tiny bit of hope, she’ll do it.

The dust is thicker amidst the rubble. Alsa’s chest hurts. Jushen rubs her back and squeezes her arm whenever the coughing takes over. But he’s coughing too. She wonders how the men who work down here can stand it, and shudders when she realizes that in two years time, Jushen will be one of them.

After another hour, Jushen sits down, buries his face in his hands, and growls. “This isn’t working. We need tools, a shovel, something!”

“Hey! There’s someone down there,” shouts an alarmed voice.

Jushen and Alsa scramble to find a hiding place as the footsteps of several men approach. It’s too late. Flashlights shine in their faces, rooting them to their spots. Alsa puts her hand up to block the light, knocking her hat off in the process, and giving the men a full view of her long, brown hair.

“Carson!” someone exclaims. “They’re kids. And one of em’s a girl.”

A man with a gruff expression pushes his way through the crowd. Carson. “What do you two think you’re doing down here? Do you have a death wish?”

“I…umm,” Alsa stutters.

“This area is condemned! We were just about to wall it up when we heard your voices.”

“No! My dad!” Panic fills her chest, and she struggles to get the right words out. The words that will make them see. “And the others. They’re trapped!”

Pity enters the man’s eyes and voice. “Sweetie, it’s too late. Didn’t you see the news? The Overseer ran a Core Scan. There are no signs of life here.”

“No!” She’s very close to crying. “The Overseer lied. They’re alive and we need to get them out!”

“Look. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’ve got a family too, and they don’t get fed until my job is complete. Please.” He takes Alsa’s hand and attempts to lead her away.

She jerks back and flies to the pile of rubble, blindly tossing rocks. She has no intention of leaving unless they drag her out by force.

Chaos breaks out as rocks fly everywhere. Some men duck and cover. Others search for a way to stop her. Carson grabs Jushen by the shoulders. “Get your girlfriend under control before someone gets hurt!”

“No!” Jushen spits out his words. “She’s right. Look!” He shines his light in the rubble. Everyone freezes, their full attention on the injured hand. Two fingers lift, like it's pleading for help.
Someone gasps. Everyone looks at Carson.

He stares at the moving hand for several moments. Confusion fills his eyes. And then understanding.

Alsa wonders how often he had obeyed the order to wall up the mess after an accident. She knew they did it. Collapses only happen in areas where the ground isn’t stable enough to support construction. It’s cheaper to just close it off and cut their losses than lose the man-hours clearing out the useless space. But until tonight, she had never realized they did it while the trapped men were still alive. And from the look on his face, Carson didn’t either.

He sends out an order. “Well, don’t just stand there. Get the man out!”

The workmen dig through the night. At first, they can only find the one man, but he soon leads them to the others.

Alsa and Jushen’s reunion with their fathers is tearful, but brief. There are wounds to tend to, and stretchers to build for those too hurt to move.

At dawn all 36 men, along with the rescue crew, emerge from the Underground broken and bloody, but alive.

Carson pulls Alsa and Jushen aside and whispers urgently to them. “You kids did a good thing last night, never doubt that. But when this rescue goes public, everyone will know the Overseer lied about the Core Scan. Things are going to get very ugly.”

The full impact of what they had just done hits Alsa hard. They had defied the Overseer, and exposed his corruption. Sure, everyone had suspected it for years, but now they will know. How many other groups of men had been walled up underground simply because the Overseer had deadlines to meet? How many fathers? How many husbands? She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. It makes her feel sick, and it won’t go away.

“You need to keep silent,” he continues. “Never tell anyone that you were here, and your families should be safe. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“What about you and your men?” Alsa asks.

He smiles, but worry hides just under the surface. “You let me worry about that. Go on. Go home to your families.”
*
That night, Alsa sits with her parents watching the news. Carson and his men, standing in a neat line on a raised platform, fill the television screen. Grim looks line their faces.

The camera pans to a podium where The Overseer speaks into a microphone. “It is my pleasure to present each member of this valiant crew with The Medal of Honor. Due to an unfortunate malfunction during the Core Scan, we were led to believe that the accident yesterday left no survivors. While performing routine maintenance last night, Mr. Carson and his men saw evidence that there were indeed survivors. Putting their own safety at risk, they worked through the night and executed the first Underground rescue in over 60 years.”

A small audience of reporters raise their hands and shout indecipherable questions.

The Overseer raises his hand to shush them. “I assume that your number one question concerns the faulty Core Scan.” A placating smile crosses his face. “Please rest assured that the mistake was a fluke, and the machinery has been fixed. This type of thing will never happen again.” He focuses his smile on Carson, who gives an almost imperceptible nod.

That’s when Alsa notices the wounds, slashes across the face and arms of every man on the crew. Marks that the rest of the province would assume happened during the rescue. Alsa recognizes them as something different, evidence left from a multi-tailed whip.

A punishment.

A warning.

The only one they would ever get.

Alsa shuts off the TV, and turns to her father. “So that’s it. They cover it up, and it keeps happening.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know.” She gets up and starts pacing. “A revolution. Change. I mean, 60 years, and none of you knew what was happening. It needs to stop!”

Her father stands beside her. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder, quieting her frantic mind. “Al, revolutions rarely occur overnight. They’re the result of small incidents that build up over time. Last night was only the first step.”

“How can it be the first step when no one knows about it?” she asks hopelessly.

“Trust me. The people will know.”
*
The next day, Alsa and Jushen walk into their classroom to see Mrs. Walker whistling happily as she writes the day’s lessons on the board. She looks at them for barely a second, but it’s long enough for her to place her first two fingers on the center of her cheek. In recent years, it had come to mean an expression of gratitude, but it also had another, older meaning.

Change.

(To those in my writing group, yes this is part of what Alsa did to get sent away. But it's only the beginning. =) )

First Chapter of Your Novel Part 3: To Prologue or Not to Prologue

2010-04-05T19:25:00.002-04:00

This week, I thought I’d talk a little bit about prologues. I’ve read every opinion under the sun about them from “Agents hate them” to “My agent said to put it in.” In the end, the decision to write one is totally up to you. Does it work for your story? Then put it in. In this blog, I’m simply giving my opinion about the different types of prologues, and why they did or didn’t work for me.

Prologue #1: The Climax
This is when the author attempts to suck the reader in by giving a taste of the climax, the most exciting part of the story that doesn’t happen until much later in the book.

When it doesn’t work - Twilight
Don’t get me wrong. I am a huge fan of the Twilight series. But the prologue doesn’t work for me. Why? Because I get 5 paragraphs of the protagonist facing her death, heightened language, and a cliffhanger. Then the mood completely shifts, dropping me into several chapters of Bella complaining about the weather*, Forks, her father, and why Edward doesn’t like her. I don’t get back to the action in the prologue for another 444 pages. By that time I’ve forgotten all about it. Having that prologue at the beginning almost makes me feel like I’ve been tricked, like there’s going to be a lot of action in the novel, when really, there isn’t.

When it does - The Sister’s Grimm Series
Nearly every book in this series opens with the climax as a prologue, but when you get to the first chapter, you don’t experience a drop in the action. For example, Chapter 1 in Book 3 opens, “Sabrina opened her eyes and saw a monster hunched over her.” The prologue promises action, and the first chapter delivers.

Prologue #2 Information dump
This is when the author delivers some vital piece of information about a past event in the prologue.

When it doesn’t work - Ruined
Everything in this prologue could be placed later in the story, and much of it is. So, why waste two pages on it? A lot of times, it’s best to just get straight to the story, and leave the back-story for flashbacks later on.

Elphame’s Choice
This prologue is 24 pages detailing the MC’s birth. It’s completely unnecessary, and just made me anxious to get to the real story. Any important points could be summed up in a page or two, or sprinkled throughout the main novel.

When it does - Fallen
The back-story works for me in this instance because it shows us something that is not known from the main character’s point of view. Fallen is a Battlestar Galactica kind of story: “All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.” So, the prologue is there to show the pattern, and the novel is there to break it.

The Summoning
The prologue in this piece tells the story of a younger Chloe, the MC. Again it describes what was previously known, and it sets us up for “the day her life changes” in the first chapter, bringing younger Chloe’s imaginary perceptions into reality. There’s a large gap of time between the two, and it wouldn’t really make sense for Chloe to be remembering that one incident when all hell breaks loose.

Again, these are just my opinions. What are some prologues that did or didn’t work for you?

*Here’s what agent Mary Kole says about starting with the weather. There’s an interesting discussion following it as well.

Short Story: The Accident Part 1

2010-04-01T10:43:00.003-04:00

Alsa sits shivering in her wooden desk. On the floor, her dropped pencil rolls away from her. No one pays any attention to it. They only hear the sound of the gong reverberating through the classroom.

Alsa’s heart matches the gong’s terrifying rhythm. Bile rises into her mouth, and she chokes it back down. If she looked around, she might see similar reactions on the other’s faces, but she stares straight ahead. Her vision clouds over with little yellow spots.

A passing thought tickles her brain. Is this the day the Overseer pulls me out of class?

Mrs. Walker makes no effort to continue with the lesson. In fact, she retreats to the chair behind her desk and smothers her tears with a handkerchief. Her husband could well be one of the casualties.

In the hallway, the metallic clacks of the Overseer’s boots announce his slow approach. Every minute or so, the clacks stop. They work their way from classroom to classroom, delivering the news. Eventually, the clacks stop just outside Alsa’s classroom. The door swings open on creaky hinges.

The Overseer takes one loud step into the classroom. He holds up a sheet of paper and quickly reads off the list of names. His voice is monotone, like he doesn’t care. He probably doesn’t. They’re just names to him. He doesn’t have to worry about his family members getting buried alive.

“Jushen Fowl, Salva Walker, Alsa Thoms. Go to the office, please.”

And he leaves, just like that. He doesn’t see the horrified faces that go with those three names.

The clacks fade.

Despite her no breath and numb knees, Alsa finds the courage to stand. Jushen follows her. They go to Mrs. Walker, whose tears have dried into a dead mask. They take her hands, and lead her out the door.

The walk to the office takes years, or seconds. Alsa’s mind floods with memories of her father. The memories are covered in dust, like everything on the planet.

They reach the office. Jushen opens the door, and they go inside to wait with the dozen other people who were summoned by the Overseer.

Alsa plasters herself against the wall, hoping to fall through to another planet. One where fathers and husbands aren’t forced to work underground, hollowing out living space for the overflowing population.

Jushen stands next to her and holds her hand. They’ve been friends since childhood when they used to catch Dapple bugs together in the moonlight, clutching the speckled bodies in their hands. Now, they only clutch each other.

A few more people crowd into the office. The Overseer enters with them, and the silence that has permeated the small space, grows even more deafening.

He clears his throat. “There’s been an accident.”

Alsa’s mind spins. We know this. That’s why they ring the gong, isn’t it? To warn us that our lives are about to fall apart.

He continues. “Four support beams collapsed in Level 3, trapping 36 men. Rescue efforts are being made. Go home to your families. We’ll send word when we have more information.”
No one says anything as they file out of the office. There’s nothing to say.

Jushen and Alsa walk home together. Their houses both lie on the same broken down street. Alsa knows they’re lucky. They’re not so poor they have to live underground. Not yet. But with their fathers gone…

“What are you thinking?” he asks her.

“They’re not going to rescue them, are they?” The question burns her mouth.

“No. They’ll make a good show of it like they always do, but there’s no way the Overseer will risk more lives saving people they can easily replace.” He takes his frustration out on the pitiful road, kicking loose rocks into junky yards.

She stops, venom oozing from her words. “My father is not easily replaceable.”

“No, of course not.” He stares at her, places an apologizing hand on her shoulder. “Alsa, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” Tears sting her throat and clot her words, but she forces out the question. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, we could always rescue them ourselves.”

He’s joking. She knows he is. But the part of her that’s willing to grasp at any solution takes him seriously. “Well, why not?”

“Alsa, think about it. They’re not going to just let us walk in there.”

“They might.” Excitement tramples through her words. Now that the idea is out there, it seems almost viable. “We’re almost working age. No one’s going to pay any attention to us if we walk in like we belong there.”

He thinks for only a split second. But it’s long enough to make his decision. “Let’s go to my house. If we’re going to do this, you’ll need to change.”

It doesn’t take long for Alsa to dress herself in some of Jushen’s old clothing, and tuck her hair up under a hat. It takes even less time for them to make their way to the workman’s entrance to the underground.

Alsa was right. No one notices as they begin their descent down the scaffolding.

Two flights down, Alsa’s lungs fill painfully with the thick dust of the planet’s interior. The workmen call it Throat Coat. Years of exposure will slowly suffocate you.

Her eyes have a thin film on them too. She tries to blink it away, grateful they only have to go down to Level 3. Some men work as far down as Level 26. They don’t last long. The planet’s interior wasn’t meant to support that kind of intrusion.

“Level 3.” Jushen steps onto a platform, and looks around. A chaotic pile of support beams, crumbled walls, dripping pipes, and sparking wires fill the enormous space. “So, where do we start?”

(to be continued)

First Chapter of Your Novel Part 2: Focus, Focus, Focus

2010-03-28T16:49:00.002-04:00

I went back and forth on whether or not to make this into a post, but I figured if it helped me, maybe it would help someone else too.

Before I begin, I need to give a little back-story. A few weeks ago, I sent the first 250 words of Spirit World to agent Mary Kole of Kidlit.com. She was hosting a workshop where she would take 8 entries and pick them apart, deciding what could be fixed. I was not one of the ones she had chosen. In fact, she sent me an email stating it was too good to be workshopped. The only note she offered me was she couldn’t figure out the plot. Well, she only read the first 250 words after all.

Forward to last week when I found out Spirit World had made it to the Quarterfinals of Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel Award. Everyone who made it to that round receives two reviews of the first chapter from Amazon as well as a Publisher’s Weekly review. While I haven’t received the Publisher’s Weekly review, the Amazon one is on display for the entire world to see here.

Let’s take a closer look at what the first reviewer had to say.

“I don't feel that the author clearly defined the goal or problem Reisa is trying to overcome. I vaguely put it together as ‘get over these internal voices I pretend not to have but which are nevertheless bringing havoc into my life’ or ‘overcoming her budding alcoholism.’”

Ouch! *

I wanted to scream out, “But it’s right there on page 4!” And also, “Chapter one is the only place in the entire novel where the character gets drunk”. But of course the reviewer doesn’t know that, because they only reviewed the first chapter. And after I got over my initial frustration and embarrassment, I began to think, “Hm, maybe there is something I can do to fix it.” I mean I know the plot is right there spelled out, and if I move a few paragraphs around, and tweak a few sentences here and there, maybe it will become clearer. So, that’s what I plan to do.

Now on to the examples. Off the top of my head I could name several novels that don’t get into the plot on the first page or even the first chapter, and I’m sure you can too. But that’s not what this post is about.

I want to examine a couple of novels that focus the plot from the beginning, and do it well.

The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
Mary begins the story by telling us a fairy tale about the ocean, something she does not believe exists. But why doesn’t she believe it exists? Well, go on to page 2 and we learn all about the Unconsecrated, the zombies who live just outside her village in The Forest of Hands and Teeth. That’s when we know Mary is destined to travel outside of her village, through the forests of Unconsecrated, and meet the ocean.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
At the end of the first paragraph, Katniss tells us, “This is the day of the reaping.” Do we know what the reaping is? No. But we know it’s terrible because it gave her sister bad dreams. Throughout the first chapter Katniss gives us quite a bit of back-story and leads us right up to the reaping. After that, we have a pretty good idea of how it’s going to change her life forever.

Can you think of any more examples?

*The reviewers did have nice things to say as well. You can read them, as well as download the first chapter for free here. Or if you don’t have a Kindle, shoot me an email at belle5678 at yahoo dot com and I’ll send it to you.

Short Story: Racing to the Beat the Night

2010-03-25T14:57:00.002-04:00

My car will not go over 94 miles an hour. And that’s a damn shame because the fog of bloodsuckers is flying close enough to my tail to rip the bumper off.

“C’mon. C’mon!” I urge the speedometer. “Sure, you promise 120 but when it comes down to it, you just don’t have the guts.” Which Costa had assured me it did before allowing me to take the car out on a supply run.

See, here’s the thing. We live in a dome, the few humans who don’t have a death wish, or worship immortality. The problem is such living conditions tend to cut you off from the rest of the world, including sources of food and medication. So, every now and then one of us has to just suck it up, go for it, and hope to God that we make it back before dark when the fog rolls in. And by fog, I mean a herd of vamps very much like the one currently crawling up my tailpipe.

That’s how they travel, you know. They go all misty and join together into this gigantic cloud. And they are fast! I’m talking Go! Speed Racer! Go! Unfortunately, my car does not understand the current need for speed because the back window is now shrouded in fog and little starburst cracks are appearing in the glass.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Little girl, little girl, let us in.

I slam my foot down on the accelerator thinking if I can break it through the floorboards, maybe I can get another 5 mph out of this thing. That’s all I really need. The dome is so close. I can see the rounded top lifting up out of the horizon.

You’re probably wondering how I got myself into such a fine mess, out after dark in a race against evil incarnate. Well, let me tell you if there had been any choice in the matter, I would be sweet dreaming in my bunk right now. But I’m the best runner they got, and I wasn’t about to let any of those little ones die if I could help it.

See, a few years ago, we noticed some of the vamps getting sick, and not with your run of the mill cold either. I’m talking eating away at your flesh from both the in and outside sick.

Fortunately, humans seemed immune to it. At least at first. But then our little ones started getting sick. Not the teenagers or adults, no. Just the little ones. As if there weren’t enough reasons for hating the bloodsuckers.

Anyway, a couple of days ago, one of the under fives started showing the symptoms. We thought she would make it til the next supply run, but this afternoon she took a turn for the worst. She needed antibiotics, and she needed them yesterday.

So with one hour left before sunset, I went to Costa, and had him prep me a car.

“Hey,” he said right before I took off. “I don’t wanna have to come rescue you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “When have you ever had to come rescue me?”

He shrugged. “There’s always a first time.”

I laughed, and stomped on the gas.

My first stop was the field where we grow anything that doesn’t fit in the dome. The vamps even help us maintain it. That’s a smart move on their part, if you think about it. It’s sort of like fattening the cow before the slaughter.

I filled the backseat to overflowing, and sped off to my next stop, The Wastelands. Maybe it once passed as a trailer park, but now it was a glorified dump whose inhabitants played both sides of the field, vamp and human. It was the only place in a 500-mile radius where you could buy necessary things; you know gas, medicinal supplies, and bags of blood for those nights when you just can’t catch enough humans.

With twenty minutes remaining, I bagged every bit of food from the back seat, and hauled it over to the Hospital Quarter, really just a couple of Airstreams filled with supplies. I dropped my bags in their “donation” pile, and received one small vial of antibiotics in return.

Then, I turned and made my way back through the towering piles of junk. That’s when I felt it, that inky, oh crap feeling that tells you a vamp is near. But I comforted myself with the knowledge that I still had five minutes of sunlight left, and my car wasn’t that far away.

Of course there were shadows, long ones. I guess I should have been more careful, but I had never seen a vamp desperate enough to rise before sunset. I didn’t even know shadow walking was possible until he materialized right in front of me, only a bite away.

Disease raked his throat as he whispered, “You have something I want.”

I clutched the tiny vile to my chest like it contained the elixir of life, which in a way, it did.

“Little girl,” he rasped. “Please don’t be difficult. I only want the one thing. Then you can be on your way, safe as sunlight.”

Why didn’t I bring a stake? I chided myself. First rule of survival -- always bring a stake.

I pocketed the medicine and said, “Eat wood.”

His scarred face contorted into a sad sort of grimace. “It’s a shame you said that. It didn’t have to be this way.”

My heart hammered in my throat, but I held my ground. Against a healthy vamp, I wouldn’t stand a chance unarmed, but against a sick one…maybe. I balled up my fists, and waited. Scarface was just your typical vamp, right? I was pretty sure I could guess his next move.

And I was right. Fast as lightening, his hand flew to my pocket.

I took the only shot I knew I’d get, and punched him smack across the jaw, tearing his face in the ragged fashion typical of a reanimated corpse.

And I ran.

Oh God, did I run. Scarface had wasted four of my precious minutes and I still had to make it to the car. When I was only feet away, the last rays of sun dropped in to the night. I dove into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door, tearing the inside handle off in the process.

With the sun gone, the mist of a dozen vamps formed in the distance and headed toward me. I had no idea if Scarface was one of them, but I didn’t care. I shoved the keys in the ignition, and tore out of there as if hell itself was bearing down on me.

Because it was.

And that’s how I got in this predicament, with the mist still gaining ground, and both sides of the car shrouded in that crap. Any second now, they’ll be creeping in through the vents.

That can’t happen.

The dome is so near. The gate’s closed, but I got my remote. The problem is, I can’t go in there with my little hitchhikers hanging on. See, the rule that says “vamps can’t come in without an invitation” only applies to individuals trying to break in. If they come in attached to me or my car, well that’s as good as inviting them over for tea. So, I’ve got to figure out how to lose them.

Only one thing comes to mind, and yeah it’s crazy, but it’s all I got. I stick the remote in my teeth, slam the brakes, and yank the steering wheel hard enough to send my car skidding sideways, lifting up on one side and teetering over to the next. It flips again and again while high-pitched, shriek-y, wail-y, screams fill the night, and the parasites are trashed into oblivion.

When the car finally comes to a rest down in the ravine running parallel to the road, I climb out the best available window and stumble to the dome, stabbing the entry code into the remote along the way. It’s not far, but due to the glass embedded in my skin and what I’m sure are multiple fractures, I can’t go very fast.

Which is why, just before I stagger through the threshold, a freshly materialized Scarface is able to grab onto my neck and cross through with me, sending me crashing to the ground, with him landing on top of me.

And that’s a damn shame, because I’m not in a position to do anything about it. I just close my eyes, and wait for the bite.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel his tense body turn into dead weight and I risk a peek.

Costa is standing there with a stake in his hand, and a grin on his face. “What was that about you never needing to be rescued?” he asks.

I push Scarface’s body off me, sit up, and shrug. “There’s always a first time.”

He laughs, and helps me up, so he can accompany both my precious vial and me to the infirmary.

First Chapter of Your Novel Part 1: The First Line

2010-03-22T09:40:00.004-04:00

The first page of your manuscript is often the only thing an agent sees when deciding whether to ask for more of your book. It needs to give a lot of information, and entice the reader to want to read further. I’ve searched the Internet and my library of books for techniques that have helped me, and figured I would share them with you. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be talking about different aspects of the all-important first page, as well as giving examples of each.

Today, I’ll be starting with the first line, the hook. Here is a list, by no means complete, of books that reeled me in from the first line.

1. “Lyra and her daemon moved through the darkening hall, taking care to keep to one side, out of sight of the kitchen.” The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman
From those few words, we’ve learned the name of the MC, and the fact that she is sneaking around. Why? Is she doing something dangerous, or something that’s simply forbidden? The use of the word “daemon” also suggests that we’re not dealing with our world as we know it.

2. “I felt her fear before I heard her screams.” Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead
This book takes us right into the action. Someone is terrified, and I’m pretty sure we’re about to find out why.

3. “My name is India Opal Buloni, and last summer my daddy, the preacher, sent me to the store for a box of macaroni-and-cheese, some white rice, and two tomatoes and I came back with a dog.” Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo
I love this opening. Once again, it gives us the MC’s name. We also get a sense of her age because she uses the word “daddy” instead of “dad”. We know a little bit about her family, and we know that this adventure she’s about to embark on most likely involves a dog. So, we have details about the MC, her family, and the plot all in one sentence.

4. “They say that just before you die your whole life flashes before you, but that’s not how it happened for me.” Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver
A lot of books have the “this is how I die” opening, but this one grips me. Possibly because I know that the character actually does die in the book. And no, that’s not a spoiler. It’s the main plot of the book.

5. “I’d seen weirder things than a haunted shoe, but not many.” Storm Born by Richelle Mead
Okay, this one tells us that the book is headed is a supernatural direction. Yay. And that the MC is well immersed in that world. What is she going to do with the haunted shoe? How did it get that way? I certainly want to know more.

6. “In these dungeons the darkness was complete, but Katsa had a map in her mind.” Graceling by Kristin Cashore
In this line, we again get the MC’s name, and the fact that she is resourceful. There’s also a location, the dungeons. The author uses the sense of sight, or lack thereof, to ground us in this location. Why is Katsa there? We don’t know. But I, for one, am curious.

7. 24/7/365 “It’s like she can’t breathe anymore, no matter what she does.” Gone by Lisa McMann
This doesn’t tell us a whole lot about the MC, but it does give a sense of physicality. This being the third book in the trilogy, I already know and care about Janie’s plight, but this line tells me that things have gotten much, much worse.

8. “I didn’t tell dad about Granmama’s white owl.” Strange Angels by Lili St. Crow
Only 8 words, but we know a little about the MC’s age and family. And we know she’s keeping a secret. Why?

9. “My arm rises toward my face and the pincer touch of cold steel rubs against my jaw.” Crazy Beautiful by Lauren Baratz-Logstead
This is an excellent example of showing, not telling. The author could have simply said, “I scratch my jaw with my hook for a hand,” but she uses the MC’s sense of touch to show us instead. We also know that this hook must be a recent development. Otherwise, the MC wouldn’t be thinking about it so vividly. What happened to him? There’s part of the plot right there.

10. “Coraline discovered the door a little while after they moved into the house.” Coraline by Neil Gaiman
We get the MC’s name, the fact that she has a sense of adventure, that she just moved to a new place, and the beginning of the plot all there in 13 words.

These are just a few examples off the top of my head. What about you? If you have any examples of good opening lines, I’d love to hear them.

Review: Twilight the Graphic Novel

2010-03-21T19:15:00.002-04:00

Twilight: The Graphic Novel, Volume 1 by Stephenie Meyer

My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I have to say I definitely prefer reading the novel, but the drawings are gorgeous. Some of the techniques are quite interesting, such as only using color in certain places, like the meadow scene.

I understand that graphic novels are generally a bit more expensive, but it's frustrating to pay $20 for something, to only get the first half of the book. I'd rather get it all at once.

That said, the adaptation was generally good. I enjoyed seeing some of the scenes realized, and the dialogue was accurate. I just wish there had been more.

View all my reviews >>

Review: Gone by Michael Grant

2010-03-21T19:06:00.003-04:00

Gone by Michael Grant

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book was a lot of fun. Michael Grant switches back and forth between multiple points of view, and does it well. All of the main characters are thoroughly realized and interesting. The plot itself kept me guessing right up until the very end, and I'm interested to read the next book in this series.

View all my reviews >>

Winter Wonderland

2010-03-21T09:53:00.007-04:00

Today is the last day of the

The topic for today is to create a list of 5 books that are either about or take place in a winter wonderland.

Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr
Keenan is the Summer King, who has sought his queen for nine centuries. Without her, summer itself will perish. His is determined that Aislinn will become the Summer Queen at any cost-regardless of her plans or desires.

Frostbite by Richelle Mead
Book 2 in the Vampire Academy series. During winter break, the entire student body of St. Vladmir's Academy take refuge from the Strigoi in a posh Idaho ski resort. But the glittering winter landscape and the resort only create the illusion of safety. When three friends run away in an offensive move against the deadly Strigoi, Rose must join forces with Christian to rescue them. But heroism rarely comes without a price...

Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater
For years, Grace has watched the wolves in the woods behind her house. One yellow-eyed wolf—her wolf—is a chilling presence she can't seem to live without. Meanwhile, Sam has lived two lives: In winter, the frozen woods, the protection of the pack, and the silent company of a fearless girl. In summer, a few precious months of being human ... until the cold makes him shift back again. Now, Grace meets a yellow-eyed boy whose familiarity takes her breath away. It's her wolf. It has to be. But as winter nears, Sam must fight to stay human--or risk losing himself, and Grace, forever.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman
Kids are disappearing, including Lyra's best friend Roger. She must travel to the frozen north to solve the mystery, aided only by a magical device known as The Golden Compass to guide her. Along the way she befriends the witches, the Gyptians, and an armored polar bear. But in the end it is Lyra alone who must make the decisions that lead to the fulfillment of a prophecy and the betrayal her best friend.

The Call of the Wild by Jack London
London's epic of the great outdoors from 1903 tells the story of Buck, a dog taken from his safe home and thrust into the brutal Arctic north of the Yukon wilderness.

Most descriptions taken from Goodreads.com

What's my Line

2010-03-20T17:36:00.002-04:00

Quick reminder: Monday, I will be returning to my normal blogging with an article about beginning a novel. And a little bit later in the week I will be posting a vampire story from yours truly.

But for now, I return you to the

Today, the challenge is simply to blog about what I love to read. Yay.

I prefer young adult titles. Within that world, I like pretty much everything, paranormal, fantasy, romance, sci fi, dystopian, etc. Some of my favorites include:

The Hunger Games (series) by Suzanne Collins
Vampire Academy (series) by Richelle Mead
The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman
Harry Potter by J K Rowling
Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Middle Grade:
Blubber by Judy Blume
Everything on a Waffle by Polly Horvath
Bel Air Bambi and the Mall Rats by Richard Peck

Adult books:
The Ender Books by Orson Scott Card (I know Ender's Game is now usually under YA, but the sequels are adult, so that's why I classified them here.)
The Georgina Series by Richelle Mead
Dark Swan Series by Richelle Mead

There are so many more. But that's a start.

Create a Book Cover

2010-03-17T11:42:00.005-04:00

Next week I will return to my regularly scheduled program of talking about reading and writing. Topics for next week include Techniques on Beginning a Novel, and a vampire short story by yours truly.

But as for this week, I present the most entertaining

yet...Creating a book cover.

Here are the rules:

1 – Go to “Fake Name Generator” or clickhttp://www.fakenamegenerator.com/
The name that appears is your author name.
2 – Go to “Random Word Generator” or clickhttp://www.websitestyle.com/parser/randomword.shtml
The word listed under “Random Verb” is your title.
3 – Go to “FlickrCC” or click http://flickrcc.bluemountains.net/index.php
Type your title into the search box. The first photo that contains a person is your cover.
4 – Use Picnik, or something similar to put it all together. Be sure to crop and/or zoom in.

5 - Write a short synopsis of the book.

So without further ado, here is my creation.

Locked deep within Asha's mind are memories of the past. Not just her past, but those of every female in the Hoffman family for the past seven generations. When her family moves into Great Gramma's old mansion, she learns of her gift when she meets the ghost of a distant ancestor. With the help of the ghost, Asha must find a way to access those hidden memories in order to solve her ancestor's murder from over a century ago, and finally put her to rest.

Wow. This exercise sent my creative wheels spinning. If you try this yourself, please leave the link in the comments. I would love to read it.

Distractions

2010-03-16T19:17:00.002-04:00

Does anyone remember that game show, Distraction, where you had to answer trivia questions while pinning clothes pins to your face? Yeah, it's kindof like that.

The topic for today's

is what keeps you from meeting your goals? Specifically, mine are reading the library books I have checked out and writing.

Distraction #1 -- Small Child. He climbs everything he can get his little leg up on. He eats everything he can get his little mouth around. And he falls. A lot. So, in order to still get my "me" time in while watching him, I have learned to read while rocking him to sleep, and write while he actually sleeps. I try to get 500 words in during naptime, and another 500 after he goes to bed. It usually works pretty well, as long as I can keep myself off the Internet. Which brings me to

Distraction #2 -- The Interwebs. I try to limit myself. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. And sometimes I win cool stuff. So sometimes it's worth it.

Author Appreciation Week -- Judy Blume

2010-03-15T22:11:00.014-04:00

Judy Blume is one of those authors who has helped form who I am today. She taught me to face my fears in Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, made me laugh with her Fudge books, got eerily close to my own life in Blubber, and talked to me honestly about the things my parents were too embarassed to talk about in Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, and Forever. And I am positive that she has done the same for countless other readers for over a generation. The fact that she has been the target of so much censorship only tells me that she got everything right. And you know what the best thing of all is? Her favorite color is purple. Just like me. =)

Thank you, Judy Blume, for being such an important part of my childhood.

Check out her website here.

Spring Break Reading Challenge

2010-03-15T19:21:00.002-04:00

Today's topic for the

is "What would you like to do with your blog?"

Well, in case you haven't noticed, I have a generic Blogger background. What I'd like to do if I were handy with a crayon and paper, is to create one of those fun cartoony title graphics as well as a background for my blog. In my dream world, it would be a wondrous drawing of the moon from my current WIP, since the title from my blog is derived from the first line of said novel. Now, I could create something in Photoshop using photographs and what not, and probably will at a later date once I get a handle on my current MS and have more time. But it's just not the same.

I'd also like to create a side bar with my favorite links. I do know how to do that, but once again, taking the time while my 1yo chews up a chair just isn't viable.

Until tomorrow,
cheers and ice cream

What I am Reading

2010-03-14T14:05:00.003-04:00

Day 3 in the

The challenge today was to share the book I am currently reading. Well, that poses a bit of a problem since I am always in the middle of about 4 or 5 books. For my purposes today, I have narrowed it down to the one I've spent the most time reading in the past few days, Gone by Michael Grant.

It tells the story of a small town of children who suddenly find themselves without a single person over the age of 14. Oh, and lets add the fact that they appear to be trapped inside a dome (nicknamed The Fayz), and many of the children are developing supernatural abilities.

I read the first hundred pages or so online on the Harper Teen website, and was intrigued enough to reserve a copy from my library. It's told from multiple points of view from several children within The Fayz, each with a unique voice and perspective. Each chapter is titled with a countdown clock, and while I know there are sequels so the children most likely don't get out of The Fayz within this book, I can't help but wonder what the clock is counting down to, and am excited to keep reading.

Want to learn more? Check out these websites.
The Fayz is a blog written from someone inside the dome.
Micheal Grant's Harper Teen website and blog

To Be Read

2010-03-13T11:53:00.002-05:00

It's Day #2 in the

1. First off, the challenge was to find a brand new blog to read. I chose Confessions of the Unpublished by Sarah Darlington. It's a site with books reviews, contests, and info for wannabe writers like myself. =)

2. Link the author of a book in my To Be Read pile. I chose Carrie Ryan, author of The Forest of Hands and Teeth and The Dead Tossed Waves, both of which I am sqeeing for joy over reading.

3. A book releasing this month that I want to read. Succubus Shadows by Richelle Mead. It's book 5 in her Georgina series and I've been saving up the last of my Books a Million gift cards from Christmas to purchase it.

And as for my goal, well I'm on page 161 of 558 of Gone by Michael Grant. My 5k will go into full swing when hubby goes back to work tomorrow.

Reading Challenge

2010-03-12T16:53:00.002-05:00

For the next week, I will be participating in the

Check it out.

Anyway, the first challenge is to set goals for the week. My goals are to finish at least one book I have started (not an easy task with an 11 month old), and to write at least 5,000 words on my current WIP. Ordinarily, I aim for 1,000 words a day, but inevitably, there are setbacks where I end up deleting nearly everything I wrote. I want 5,000 words that stick.

What about you? What are your goals?

Writing Links

2010-03-11T13:22:00.001-05:00

I thought I'd share a few pages on writing that I like to frequent. They often help give me a jump start if the story isn't coming, or if the outline fails, or just for general tips and guidelines.

Ten Rules for Query Letters by Maggie Stievater

Kidlit.com hosted a Novel Beginnings contest and critiques what works and doesn't work in the opening pages of a novel.
Grand Prize
Check out the rest of the blog for the other critiques as well as agent advice at Kidlit.com
Confessions of a Contest Judge - General writing advice
Part 1
Part 2 - Point of View
Part 3 - Thinking Like a Point of View Character
Part 4 - The Dreaded Head Hop
Part 5 - Walk Like John Wayne
Part 6 - And How Does that Make You Feel?
Part 7 - (Don't) Name that Emotion!

Enjoy!

Short Story: Mars's Story

2010-03-07T10:41:00.001-05:00

1964

Kenny doesn’t remember coming to the orphanage. He has always been there. And for all he knows, he always will be.

Every day he stares out his window, through the bars, to the other kids playing basketball. He notices the asphalt is broken and the weeds poke through. Wonders what it feels like to run on it. Knows that it’s pointless to wonder. They would never let him play. Not anymore.

He used to play with them, but when he was six, he asked them about the strange voices in his head, and what they did whenever they heard the voices. They ran away and told The Ladies.

The Ladies gave him his own room with special windows, because he scared the other kids.

He is ten now, and allowed to come out for meals and supervised recreation, but he doesn’t. The other kids call him “Crazy Kenny” and sing mean made-up songs. So he stays in his room and reads.

The Ladies get him any books he wants from the library. They feel bad he doesn’t have any friends, but they’re scared of him too.

He reads mostly ghost stories until a new girl, who doesn’t know his nickname, comes up to his window and says, “Hi.”

He says nothing. He doesn’t usually talk to the other kids and has forgotten how.

“I’m Irish. The other kids won’t let me play. Will you come out?”

He does. They sit on the broken asphalt, playing jacks.

He practices talking with her. Discovers she makes him good at it.

The basketball rolls through their game and a kid yells, “Hey, Crazy Kenny!” holding his arms out for the ball.

Kenny throws it back, but then Irish asks, “Why did he call you that?”

He shrugs. “Ghosts talk to me.” He had figured that much out from the library books.

“Really?” She sounds amazed, not scared.

It’s a first for Kenny, so he tells her all about Sam and Lily, the two ghosts who talk to him.

She listens, laughs in all the right places.

He’s happy. Maybe for the first time ever.

She tells him stories about her favorite planet, Mars. How she would like to live there one day, what she thinks it will be like.

Really she just wants to escape. Her life has been very wrong lately. That’s why she loves his stories, and why she loves to tell hers.

A few weeks later, a knock sounds on Kenny’s door. It’s Irish, telling him The Ladies have found an uncle, and she’s going to live with him.

His world crashes.

For a solid month, Kenny stays in his room.

When he comes out, he asks The Ladies to get him some books on Mars.

He reads them all, the factual ones, as well as the made-up stories. The ones with people living there are his favorite. That way, he can imagine he’s there too. With Irish.

He sits re-reading Podkayne of Mars and hears another knock at his door. It’s a lady. Not one of The Ladies. Not as old as them either.

“Hello, Kenny,” she says. “My name is Vermillion. Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

She sits in his comfy chair by the window. He sits on the bed, legs dangling over the edge.

“I want to talk to you about the voices you hear.”

He rolls his eyes. He’s heard this before. The Ladies used to send strange people in here all the time to talk. He thought they had stopped.

“Your friend Irish told her uncle about you, and he called me.”

He almost cries, afraid they’re going to send him away for scaring Irish, even though he didn’t. “I’m not crazy,” he pleads.

“I know you’re not. I’ve come to help. Irish’s uncle had a brother, Calvin.” His name chokes in her throat. “He was gifted like you. Like me, too.” Her eyebrows lift while she waits for him to understand what she’s telling him.

Slowly, he accepts the truth. “You believe me?”

She doesn’t answer his question. Instead, she asks a new one. “Would you like to come live with me?”

“Why?” He’s still suspicious.

“Because I can teach you all about the Spirit World.”

He’s intrigued. “Will I get to see Irish again?”

“If you like.”

That settles it. But he has one more question. “Can I call you V?”

She considers it. She’s never really felt like a Vermillion. And she wasn’t Millie anymore either. “Yes, I think I would like that very much.” She stands and holds out her hand. “Are you ready, Kenny?”

“Call me Mars.”

And they walk out the door.

Meeting Lisa McMann

2010-03-05T09:31:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, I got the chance to go a book signing/reading by Lisa McMann. Now, I've blogged before about how awesome her Wake series is. I even utilized the style used in the books to create a character sketch for Spirit World. You can read Mars's Story here. So, you can imagine how excited I was to go this signing.

It was held in the Vero Beach Book Center which is an adorable store with the bottom half dedicated to children's fare, including a small theatre area, and the top half with new and used books. And since I drove all the way from Orlando to go to the signing, they gave me a free tote bag. Win!

Lisa started off with a few stories about her road to publication with the Wake series, including how she came to be the photographer for the chair image on Gone. Then, she opened up the floor to questions, of which there were many interesting answers. My favorite tale was how she used to work at a book store and ended up going to dinner with Madeline L'Engle, one of my personal heroes.

When it came time for her to read, she allowed us to choose the excerpts. In the end, she decided she had enough time for two readings, one from her upcoming YA novel and one from her upcoming MG novel. I am excited about reading both, but the later, a story where children are branded as wanted, necessary, or unwanted, sounded truly fascinating.

It was also Lisa's birthday, and the book store treated us all to Gone cupcakes. And yes, the book was edible, and turned my mouth blue. =)

Finally, she met with us all and signed our books, at which point I was possibly a little too giddy, but that's okay. I had a great time and that's all that matters.

FYI, this was Small Child's second book signing, and he did pretty well. I've got a future reader on my hands. But right now, he's still working on not eating the books after he's finished with them.

2010-03-02T10:01:00.000-05:00

Hi, everyone. I run a blog over at http://krysteybelle.livejournal.com and am creating a mirror site here simply because there are so many Blogger blogs I'd like to follow. I generally post book reviews, short stories and selections from novels that I've written, and other random things. Enjoy.

Short Story: Being Beth Lochman

2010-03-02T09:29:00.002-05:00

I woke up in Beth Lochman’s body.

I know. It sounds crazy. But when I opened my eyes this morning, I was in her room, enveloped in her pukariffic pink gingham comforter.

Knowing I hadn’t spent the night at her house, I got up to see what was going on, and accidentally got a look in her mirror. I had to stifle a scream when I saw her round eyes staring back at me.

Beth Lochman…the meanest girl in school.

Seeing that evil reflecting back almost killed me right then and there. And maybe it would have, if it hadn’t been for her mother pounding furiously on her/my door, yelling for her/me to get dressed.

I ignored her and crawled back into bed. I was in the middle of some nightmare. That was the only explanation.

“Beth!” her mother bellowed again.

Ugh! I had no desire to be Beth, so why was I dreaming I was her? She never let a day pass when she didn’t torture someone. I guess being pretty and popular means you get away with more stuff.

Regardless, I was much happier being me.

And being me meant I got out of bed, determined to make the best of things. It was just a dream, and I was still Jules Camden. I just looked different, that’s all.

I rummaged through Beth’s closet, uncovering a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that still had the non-designer tags on them. Not her style, but certainly mine.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a powdered donut just in time to hear her mother yell again. “Hurry up! Ben’s here.”

I choked, and powdered sugar sprayed all over my shirt.

Ben? As in Beth’s boyfriend Ben? The same Ben who stops my breath every time he speaks to me? So that’s why I was dreaming I was her!

And because dreams have impeccable timing, Ben appeared at just that moment, laughing as I dusted off my shirt.

Reclaiming my dignity, I proudly said something I would never say to him in real life. “Didn’t you hear? Powdered sugar is the new black.”

He laughed again and slipped his hand into mine. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Dream or not, he wasn’t actually my boyfriend. But that didn’t stop my insides from turning all warm and squishy.

When we got to school, my happiness completely evaporated. Peering at us from behind a corner, was me. I mean Jules. Who I was sure was actually Beth, due to the cranky look on her face when she saw me with Ben.

I got distracted helping some kid who had dropped his books, and when I stood back up, she was gone. But Ben was there, staring at me with the strangest look on his face.

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. You just seem different today.”

He didn’t know the half of it. “Good different or bad different?”

His face lit up with a smile. “Good different.”

Realizing a little dream flirting wouldn’t hurt, I smiled back.

Ben’s glow continued at lunch when I gave money to some girl who had lost hers. And he looked like he was ready to kiss me when I told off one of Beth’s friends for purposely tripping a trumpet player.

Once or twice, I caught Jules/Beth scowling at me, but I didn’t care. It was about time Beth was nice to someone, even if it was only in a dream.

At the end of the day I was heading toward the parking lot, and my face appeared out of the shadows. “Unfreakinbelievable. I switch bodies with you and Ben still likes you better than me.”

“You know what’s unbelievable?” I shot back. “Even in my dreams you’re a jerk.”

“This ain’t a dream, babe.” She held up an ornate gold box. “You remember yesterday when I bumped into you? The electric shock?”

I did remember. And terror slithered down my spine in response. Sure, part of me wanted to call her crazy, but seeing as I was staring at her from her own body, I had to believe her. Plus, if I were dreaming, wouldn’t I have woken up by now?

“What is that?” I asked.

“A Spirit Shifter. My dad bought it off some voodoo priestess in Brazil.”

“But why would you-”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what?” Maybe she was crazy after all.

“The way Ben stares at you in the hallways. The way he should be staring at me. I heard he was going to dump me and ask you to the dance. So I thought -”

“That you’d switch places with me, and he’d come running to you? You’re an idiot you know that? Newsflash. He’s probably sick of you being such a-”

“Whatever. Just give me your hand so we can switch back.”

I did, happy to end this waking nightmare. She pressed a button on the device. A shock flew through my body, but I was still looking at myself through Beth’s eyes.

“Nothing happened.”

“Who’s the idiot now? We switched when we were asleep remember? It’ll happen tonight.”

And it did.

I went back to myself, and unfortunately, so did Beth, with Ben standing quietly at her side. Then one day, he sat at my lunch table instead of hers.

After school, he offered me a ride home. And in my driveway, he said the most surprising thing. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. There was this day a few weeks ago where Beth did all the stuff you usually do. It’s like she was channeling you.” He looked at me, embarrassed for saying it. “I know. It sounds weird.”

“Actually, it doesn’t.”

“Well anyway, that was the day I realized I wanted someone who was like that all the time. I wanted you.” He laced his fingers with mine, and the warm, squishy feeling returned with fireworks and explosions. And this time, I knew it wasn’t a dream.