If Jesus was born in Israel today, and Mary didn't have enough shekels to pay the hospital...(after being turned away from two other hospitals)what would happen? Apparently, he would be held hostage.
This from the Guardian today:
"Israel's justice ministry is deciding whether to prosecute a Jerusalem hospital that held a new-born baby for two months as collateral because its mother was unable to pay her bill.
The ministry intervened last week to force the Moqassed hospital in East Jerusalem to give the infant to its mother and is examining whether to charge it with false imprisonment.
The mother, who is an Arab but has not been named, gave birth to triplets prematurely in January. As the children's father is a Palestinian resident of the West Bank, the hospital demanded payment of 10,000 shekels (£1,250) because it said it was not certain of recovering the costs of treating the babies from Israel's national insurance fund even though their mother is a legal resident of Jerusalem.
When the woman said she was unable to pay, the hospital said it would keep one of the three children, a girl, as a "guarantee" until the money was found.
Earlier this month the parents went to the justice ministry. The head of its legal aid office, Eyal Globus, said he investigated their claim and found it to be correct.
"It turned out that things were exactly as the mother said they were; the third baby was being held," he told Haaretz newspaper. "This is not the first time that the hospital has kept babies as hostages for payment of debts."
The ministry ordered the release of the baby and said it would ensure the insurance fund reimbursed the hospital. The hospital declined to comment.
The woman's family told Haaretz that she was turned away from two other Israeli hospitals because she was unable to pay a deposit of about £40,000 before being admitted."
(Does this story sort of remind you of something that happened in a manger once? Anyway, now we know what would happen if Jesus was born today - he'd still be in the hospital until Mary could cough up the shekels. Or maybe the three kings would foot the bill?)
Note: this story has a happy ending since the ministry is paying the insurance and reimbursing the hospital. But I had the same problem when my twins were born prematurely in the US, and there was never any question about the hospital keeping one of the twins hostages until we cold pay off the bill, which came to nearly a quarter of a million dollars, BTW.
Moral of the story:
Is there a moral here? Can you think of one?
Friday, March 17, 2006
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Thursday Thirteen Fours
1) Four jobs you have had in your life:
1. Salesgirl
2. Inventory checker (have no idea what my job title was - I had to do inventory for a department store one year)
3. waitress (this job lasted exactly 3 days, so I'm not sure it counts. I was also a hawker for a pizza restaurant - I stood on the street with a tee-shirt that said 'had a piece lately?' and yelled 'get a piece of pizza!'- this lasted until the navy came in.)
4. model
2) Four movies you would watch over and over:
1. Willow
2. Lord of the Rings
3. Ladyhawk
4. Harry Potter III
3) Four places you have lived:
1. New York
2. St. Thomas
3. Paris
4. Palm Beach
4) Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Lost
2. The Experts
3. Camelot (a French comedy skit)
4. Buffy
5) Four places you have been on vacation:
1. St. Tropez
2. Megève
3. Palm Beach
4. (my life is basically one big vacation so I feel like I'm cheating here, lol)
6) Four websites you visit daily:
1. New York Times
2. The Guardian
3. Agent Obscura
4. Blogs - pick a blog, any blog...
7) Four of your favorite foods:
1. Steak
2. Chocolate
3. Chocolate
4. Chocolate
8) Four places you would rather be right now:
1. Someplace Warm
2. Someplace Sunny
3. Someplace warm and sunny
4. Probably Australia
9),10),11),12),& 13) Four friends you are tagging that you think will respond:
1. Andrea
2. Jim
3. Wynne
4. Virenda
1. Salesgirl
2. Inventory checker (have no idea what my job title was - I had to do inventory for a department store one year)
3. waitress (this job lasted exactly 3 days, so I'm not sure it counts. I was also a hawker for a pizza restaurant - I stood on the street with a tee-shirt that said 'had a piece lately?' and yelled 'get a piece of pizza!'- this lasted until the navy came in.)
4. model
2) Four movies you would watch over and over:
1. Willow
2. Lord of the Rings
3. Ladyhawk
4. Harry Potter III
3) Four places you have lived:
1. New York
2. St. Thomas
3. Paris
4. Palm Beach
4) Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Lost
2. The Experts
3. Camelot (a French comedy skit)
4. Buffy
5) Four places you have been on vacation:
1. St. Tropez
2. Megève
3. Palm Beach
4. (my life is basically one big vacation so I feel like I'm cheating here, lol)
6) Four websites you visit daily:
1. New York Times
2. The Guardian
3. Agent Obscura
4. Blogs - pick a blog, any blog...
7) Four of your favorite foods:
1. Steak
2. Chocolate
3. Chocolate
4. Chocolate
8) Four places you would rather be right now:
1. Someplace Warm
2. Someplace Sunny
3. Someplace warm and sunny
4. Probably Australia
9),10),11),12),& 13) Four friends you are tagging that you think will respond:
1. Andrea
2. Jim
3. Wynne
4. Virenda
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Cold Snap
The cold returned with a vengence this week, putting frost on the windows and turning the grass white and sparkly in the morning.
I've been hard at work starting another book. I'm about 10,000 words in and starting to get an idea of where it's going. (I have the beginning and the end...I just have to find the middle. It will appear. I'm 'pantsing' this one, which means no outline...Unless I get bogged down in which case I will make one.
Note to self - outlines will prop up a sagging middle. Does that make them the girdles of writing?
I also started a daily photo blog - combining my love of photography with my love of procrastination - I think I've found my calling.
I'll go down in the record books as the author with the most websites.
So go here and see what life is like in a twelfth century French village.
Montchauvet Daily Blog
Or go here and see how well I can procrastinate (and sign up as one of my Friends, lol)
My Space
Now I'm off to haunt the Washington Post's discussion groups. (I'm elevating Procrastination to an art form...)
I've been hard at work starting another book. I'm about 10,000 words in and starting to get an idea of where it's going. (I have the beginning and the end...I just have to find the middle. It will appear. I'm 'pantsing' this one, which means no outline...Unless I get bogged down in which case I will make one.
Note to self - outlines will prop up a sagging middle. Does that make them the girdles of writing?
I also started a daily photo blog - combining my love of photography with my love of procrastination - I think I've found my calling.
I'll go down in the record books as the author with the most websites.
So go here and see what life is like in a twelfth century French village.
Montchauvet Daily Blog
Or go here and see how well I can procrastinate (and sign up as one of my Friends, lol)
My Space
Now I'm off to haunt the Washington Post's discussion groups. (I'm elevating Procrastination to an art form...)
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Mr. Perfect
The other day my husband was in a bad mood (don't ask me why - I think it was because hunting season is over and he had to put his bows and arrows away.) It made him crabby - so my son went around all day calling him "Mr. Grumpy". And that made me laugh. My husband is rarely grumpy, so when he's in a bad mood, everyone picks up on it. And because he has such a terrific sense of humor, we all feel comfortable teasing him about it. He's been my husband for over twenty years now. We met in 1979 when I was 18, and somehow, I just knew I'd met the man I'd marry. He felt the same way - telling his friends even before we'd met - "Wow - did you see that girl?" I fell for his shy smile and mischievous eyes. He says he admired my intelligence and my 'Cough - cough' OK - you didn't fall for that either? Well, I think it was my legs and 'bosom' as my great-gradmother would delicately put it. Well, it's true that the physique is the first thing one notices about someone elses unless you're blind, in which case it might be the voice or handshake. In my case, I thought he was too skinny but cute, not handsome but nice-looking, and he had these incredible twinkly eyes. He was playing polo when I saw him and the next weekend when I went back to watch a match - he was sitting on the sidelines with a huge cast. He'd shattered his elbow. I asked him how it was, and he told me (in very broken English) that it really "urt", but it would be all right in a month or so. So I sat next to him (he made sure that chair was empty) and we talked. We couldn't talk very much, because I spoke no French and his English was atrocious. He spoke Spanish fluently, but my Spanish was limited to "El Radio de Noche Puerto Rico!" the only station I could get in St. Thomas, where I'd grown up. So we sort of talked and he asked me on a dinner date. I took my sister with me on all our dates. He told me later he was desperate to ditch the chaperone, lol. Finally, after two months of dating, he invited me on a weekend to Deauville, where he'd started to play polo again. I took a friend with me, but this time he managed to ditch the chaperone...and we've been together ever since.
Why is he the perfect man for me? Because he's patient, he's funny, he's fun to be around, and he's got gorgeous eyes. He's an eternal optimist - when our babies were born prematurely and the doctors said they only had a 25% chance to survive, he Never doubted they would be fine. He has faith. He's not religious, but he has strong moral values. He's not a finacial wizard, but he does his best. He's had polo accidents and broken his arm, hand, hip, nose, and wrist - but he managed to become the best polo player in France, playing off an 8 handicap. He never cheated at the game, like so many others, or stooped to using the dirty tricks some players use. Even the best players admire him for his fair play. That's part of being perfect. His reputation is pure gold, as is his heart. He can't pass a stray dog on the street without stopping to pick him up, and he's adopted lost kittens (even though he claims to hate cats) and even a wounded bunny...
He thinks the sun rises and sets on his wife and children, and we pretty much feel the same for him. So how can I not love him? He's perfect.
Ann tagged me for this - so I'm going to be romantic and tag all you gals who have the 'perfect' man. Go for it!
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Polly Gimme
I read an editorial in the NY Times that pondered the legalization of polygamy.
After reading this, and trying to keep an open mind, I started to laugh.
Why? Well, think of it this way. If it's legal for a man to have several wives, it will have to be legal for a woman to have several husbands.
I'm starting to like the idea more and more.
And because of that...It will never become legal.
Oh...Did you guys forget something? You can't pass a law that affects only one sex, which brings me to my next VIP (very Important Point) Freedom of choice. You American women better get your voices heard, or you'll be living in a country where abortion is illegal, and polygamy a fact of life...For men only.
Who's Afraid of Polygamy?
By JOHN TIERNEY
Published: March 11, 2006 the New York Times
If gay marriage becomes legal, its opponents have been warning, the next step in America's moral deterioration will be legalized polygamy. These conservatives won't be happy with "Big Love," the HBO series starting tomorrow night.
This story of a husband with three wives in Utah will not terrify Americans. Polygamy doesn't come off as a barbaric threat to the country's moral fabric. It looks more like what it really is: an arrangement that can make sense for some people in some circumstances, but not one that could ever be a dangerous trend in America.
After watching the husband on the show struggle to pay for three households and watching his three wives struggle for his attention, the question that comes to mind is not how to keep polygamy illegal. The question is why we bother to ban something that takes so much work these days.
When polygamy was outlawed in the 19th century, the Supreme Court upheld the ban by citing the "evil consequences" of a practice that "has always been odious among the northern and western nations of Europe." It dismissed polygamy as "a feature of the life of Asiatic and of African people," as if that were reason enough to damn it.
Yet an institution that has been around for so long must have had something going for it. Humans aren't as inclined to polygamy as some apes are — we probably evolved as hunter-gatherers who mostly had one mate at a time — but some form of polygamy has existed in the vast majority of cultures.
Some opponents of polygamy call it the exploitation of women by rich men, and that's true if the wives are coerced into the marriages. But many wives have willingly chosen it, like the three women on "Big Love," who have married a successful businessman.
These three wives, who live in adjacent houses, sound much like the women in polygamous marriages I've talked to in rural Africa. The African wives told me they had mixed feelings about the arrangement — and their fellow wives — but over all, they figured it was better to share one prosperous husband than to marry someone else without land, cows or a job.
That's the way social scientists figure it, too. Polygamy isn't the cause of women's low status in traditional societies, but rather a consequence of their trying to move up. The biggest losers from polygamy are the poorer men who end up with no wives. Women benefit because polygamy increases their number of marriage prospects — and in traditional societies, marriage is often the only way for a woman to improve her status.
Even in those societies, polygamy is practiced by just a small minority because few men have enough resources to entice more than one wife. As a society modernizes and women become educated, they gain other economic options and become less and less willing to share a husband. Eventually polygamy is out of question for practically everyone, men and women. At that point, the monogamous majority can safely proclaim its moral superiority and outlaw the practice for everyone else.
Critics say children would be better off growing up in a home with a full-time father, but a part-time one is better than what's in many homes today. The father in "Big Love" is more like Ward Cleaver than today's alpha males who've dumped a series of wives and families.
Polygamy isn't necessarily worse than the current American alternative: serial monogamy.
Elizabeth Joseph, a lawyer and journalist who was married to a polygamist in Utah, says her experience handling divorce cases made her appreciate the stability of her marriage. She also appreciated other perks, like the round-the-clock day care that enabled her to keep an unpredictable schedule at work and to relax when she came home.
"If I'm dog-tired and stressed out, I can be alone and guilt-free," she explained in a speech to the National Organization for Women. "It's a rare day when all eight of my husband's wives are tired and stressed at the same time." She told the NOW audience that polygamy "offers an independent women a real chance to have it all" and represented "the ultimate feminist lifestyle."
She won't persuade many American women, feminists or otherwise. But if a few consenting adults like her still want to practice polygamy, there's no reason to stop them. And if the specter of legalized polygamy is the best argument against gay marriage, let the wedding bells ring.
After reading this, and trying to keep an open mind, I started to laugh.
Why? Well, think of it this way. If it's legal for a man to have several wives, it will have to be legal for a woman to have several husbands.
I'm starting to like the idea more and more.
And because of that...It will never become legal.
Oh...Did you guys forget something? You can't pass a law that affects only one sex, which brings me to my next VIP (very Important Point) Freedom of choice. You American women better get your voices heard, or you'll be living in a country where abortion is illegal, and polygamy a fact of life...For men only.
Who's Afraid of Polygamy?
By JOHN TIERNEY
Published: March 11, 2006 the New York Times
If gay marriage becomes legal, its opponents have been warning, the next step in America's moral deterioration will be legalized polygamy. These conservatives won't be happy with "Big Love," the HBO series starting tomorrow night.
This story of a husband with three wives in Utah will not terrify Americans. Polygamy doesn't come off as a barbaric threat to the country's moral fabric. It looks more like what it really is: an arrangement that can make sense for some people in some circumstances, but not one that could ever be a dangerous trend in America.
After watching the husband on the show struggle to pay for three households and watching his three wives struggle for his attention, the question that comes to mind is not how to keep polygamy illegal. The question is why we bother to ban something that takes so much work these days.
When polygamy was outlawed in the 19th century, the Supreme Court upheld the ban by citing the "evil consequences" of a practice that "has always been odious among the northern and western nations of Europe." It dismissed polygamy as "a feature of the life of Asiatic and of African people," as if that were reason enough to damn it.
Yet an institution that has been around for so long must have had something going for it. Humans aren't as inclined to polygamy as some apes are — we probably evolved as hunter-gatherers who mostly had one mate at a time — but some form of polygamy has existed in the vast majority of cultures.
Some opponents of polygamy call it the exploitation of women by rich men, and that's true if the wives are coerced into the marriages. But many wives have willingly chosen it, like the three women on "Big Love," who have married a successful businessman.
These three wives, who live in adjacent houses, sound much like the women in polygamous marriages I've talked to in rural Africa. The African wives told me they had mixed feelings about the arrangement — and their fellow wives — but over all, they figured it was better to share one prosperous husband than to marry someone else without land, cows or a job.
That's the way social scientists figure it, too. Polygamy isn't the cause of women's low status in traditional societies, but rather a consequence of their trying to move up. The biggest losers from polygamy are the poorer men who end up with no wives. Women benefit because polygamy increases their number of marriage prospects — and in traditional societies, marriage is often the only way for a woman to improve her status.
Even in those societies, polygamy is practiced by just a small minority because few men have enough resources to entice more than one wife. As a society modernizes and women become educated, they gain other economic options and become less and less willing to share a husband. Eventually polygamy is out of question for practically everyone, men and women. At that point, the monogamous majority can safely proclaim its moral superiority and outlaw the practice for everyone else.
Critics say children would be better off growing up in a home with a full-time father, but a part-time one is better than what's in many homes today. The father in "Big Love" is more like Ward Cleaver than today's alpha males who've dumped a series of wives and families.
Polygamy isn't necessarily worse than the current American alternative: serial monogamy.
Elizabeth Joseph, a lawyer and journalist who was married to a polygamist in Utah, says her experience handling divorce cases made her appreciate the stability of her marriage. She also appreciated other perks, like the round-the-clock day care that enabled her to keep an unpredictable schedule at work and to relax when she came home.
"If I'm dog-tired and stressed out, I can be alone and guilt-free," she explained in a speech to the National Organization for Women. "It's a rare day when all eight of my husband's wives are tired and stressed at the same time." She told the NOW audience that polygamy "offers an independent women a real chance to have it all" and represented "the ultimate feminist lifestyle."
She won't persuade many American women, feminists or otherwise. But if a few consenting adults like her still want to practice polygamy, there's no reason to stop them. And if the specter of legalized polygamy is the best argument against gay marriage, let the wedding bells ring.
Friday, March 10, 2006
sushi
Well, yesterday was busy. I went to gym, went shopping for groceries, had lunch with a pal at a sushi restaurant (Love sushi - Luckily - you'll see why) Got home, took a jog with son and dogs, then I checked my e-mail and found a letter from agent Caren (sounds vaguely F.B.I.-ish doesn't it?) asking me for some new revisions on chapter One. Seems she preferred my original beginning instead of what she'd suggested. I took her ideas and incorporated it into my original beginning now it absolutely rocks. Two heads Are better than one. And Caren has some good suggestions. (I love talented people.)
Then time for dinner party - I got dressed up and went to friends' house. On the table was a huge sushi platter! Yummmmm!
Guests nationalities: Three French, one British, one Argentine, one Malgash (from Madagascar) one German, one American (me). We had Cosmos for starters and lots of red wine. Then I was up at 6 a.m. this morning trying to teach our new puppy not to bark and wake everyone up. Rusty, our older dog, was looking on with a pained expression as I stormed downstairs to swat Auguste on the rear. Rusty never barks and thinks Auguste is an aberration. Not to mention a pain in the butt.
Right now they are both snoozing in the same doggy bed (they are so cute when they sleep - just what I used to think about my kids...)
Then time for dinner party - I got dressed up and went to friends' house. On the table was a huge sushi platter! Yummmmm!
Guests nationalities: Three French, one British, one Argentine, one Malgash (from Madagascar) one German, one American (me). We had Cosmos for starters and lots of red wine. Then I was up at 6 a.m. this morning trying to teach our new puppy not to bark and wake everyone up. Rusty, our older dog, was looking on with a pained expression as I stormed downstairs to swat Auguste on the rear. Rusty never barks and thinks Auguste is an aberration. Not to mention a pain in the butt.
Right now they are both snoozing in the same doggy bed (they are so cute when they sleep - just what I used to think about my kids...)
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Just started a new book two days ago. On chapter four. Having fun. Decided not to use personal pronouns anymore.
Just kidding.
Actually, I was sitting at my desk happily writing, when my husband came in the room, cup of coffee and plate of toast in hand, looking for tape.
Why do men never know where the tape it? Or the batteries, or the new package of toilet paper? I'm not the perfect house-keeper, but my brain, for some reason, keeps track of all these little things. I can be immersed in a new story and can still tell you where everything is.
"Tape is in the basket by the toaster. Batteries are in the drawer under the toaster in the kitchen...Where they always are."
"Oh, right. Thanks."
The tape is quite visible for anyone in the kitchen using either the toaster of the coffee maker (hubby makes his own toast and coffee in the morning) So he saw the tape at least three times before asking where it could be. The batteries never move. They've been in the same place for five years now.
I'm trying to form a hypothesis about men's brains and looking for house-hold items. I will test it for a few years and it will evolve into a theory. Sort of like the theory of evolution only far easier to prove. I'm betting this will be accepted as fact in a few years' time. Men's brains only have room for toast and coffee.
P.S. - he just asked me where the strawberry jam was hiding...(It was next to the sugar bowl.)
Just kidding.
Actually, I was sitting at my desk happily writing, when my husband came in the room, cup of coffee and plate of toast in hand, looking for tape.
Why do men never know where the tape it? Or the batteries, or the new package of toilet paper? I'm not the perfect house-keeper, but my brain, for some reason, keeps track of all these little things. I can be immersed in a new story and can still tell you where everything is.
"Tape is in the basket by the toaster. Batteries are in the drawer under the toaster in the kitchen...Where they always are."
"Oh, right. Thanks."
The tape is quite visible for anyone in the kitchen using either the toaster of the coffee maker (hubby makes his own toast and coffee in the morning) So he saw the tape at least three times before asking where it could be. The batteries never move. They've been in the same place for five years now.
I'm trying to form a hypothesis about men's brains and looking for house-hold items. I will test it for a few years and it will evolve into a theory. Sort of like the theory of evolution only far easier to prove. I'm betting this will be accepted as fact in a few years' time. Men's brains only have room for toast and coffee.
P.S. - he just asked me where the strawberry jam was hiding...(It was next to the sugar bowl.)
Monday, March 06, 2006
Baby's got blue eyes...
I read a lot. I read all genres, and I mean, all genres. Science fiction, mystery, romance, biographies, self-help, historical fiction and history books, children's books, you name it. And one thing that makes romance different from almost all these books is the detail applied to the hero and heroine's names and description. In no other genre will a book start out like this:
"Rebecca Demorney stepped out of her house and tossed her blond hair out of her face."
I just picked up a romance book I had lying around and opened it to the first page - the first two words are the heroine's name. Maybe it was a fluke. But it seems that in romance books, the heroine is described right down to her toenail polish by the end of the first page. And throughtout the book, her hair will be described as golden, silken, flying in the breeze...well, you get what I mean.
I'm going to pick on a book I love, so no one can say I'm being biased here. "Outlander". (I LOVED this book, it's one of my all time favorites.)
For all the author's protests that it's not a romance, the number of times the hero and heroine go boink throughout the series is mind-boggling. In the last book, I think they were ducking under hedges and darting into closets every three pages, but that might just be my imagination. Anyhow, take my word for this - the book is a romance. Another thing that's sure - everyone knows that the hero, Jamie, has blue eyes and red hair. How do we know? Because in every chapter we get a re-cap of his looks. Every time he changed expression, his looks are described. His blue eyes flashed. His blue eyes grew steely. His blue eyes crinkled with laughter.
Question: Do authors think that the reader will forget what the characters look like if they don't describe them at least once a chapter? Does it really add to the book to see the heroine's blond hair cited so often?
In the Martha Grimes mystery books I read, some of the characters have physical attributes that get repeated often. Melrose Plant has green eyes, I believe. And Inspector Jury is tall, dark, and handsome - though I can't vouch for the color of his eyes. Carrie-Ann is drop-dead gorgeous - but her whole character is nothing but a gorgeous physical description, so I can forgive Martha Grimes for foisting her upon us.
In the science fiction books I read, the hero usually gets described once or twice, (usually how he looked in his space-suit) and if there is a heroine, she's usually got some sort of physical description, but it fades into the background of the story unless it's a romance science fiction, in which case we'll have the hero and heorine described ad-nauseum in their space-suits, out of their space-suits, and how her blond hair looks floating in weightlessness.
Historical fiction (I was reading a fiction book based on the princes of Wales the other day) describes the people, but doesn't go on and on, (as in a historical romance) about broad shoulders beneath various colored capes, dresses of endless hues that bare creamy bosoms, and more about the eyes.
Why is it that romance harps endlessly on the physical description of the hero and heroine? For once, I'd love to read a romance novel that didn't mention the character's physical appearance every chapter. I can remember what they look like. You only have to describe them once, and maybe throw in a couple 'his blue eyes looked sorrowfully at her' or 'there was a ray of hope in her brown eyes...' and even then, it's not indispensible.
I like to use my imagination to fill in the blanks. Having someone described right down to the mole on their left calf is fine - as long as it's done only once. But if the author just mentions a "smokey gaze beneath a flame-colored mane of hair", I will be able to imagine something completely different (and far more fascinating) than if the author said; "Jilly Monet had dark gray eyes and bright red hair that hung well past her shoulders."
Sometimes, less is more. And in romance, description should be used more sparingly and with more respect for the reader's memory. Honest, I can remember that the hero has blue eyes. You don't have to hit me over the head with it every chapter. And even if you never mention their last names or eye color, if the romance is strong and the characters interesting...I won't even notice. My imagination will fill in the blanks.
"Rebecca Demorney stepped out of her house and tossed her blond hair out of her face."
I just picked up a romance book I had lying around and opened it to the first page - the first two words are the heroine's name. Maybe it was a fluke. But it seems that in romance books, the heroine is described right down to her toenail polish by the end of the first page. And throughtout the book, her hair will be described as golden, silken, flying in the breeze...well, you get what I mean.
I'm going to pick on a book I love, so no one can say I'm being biased here. "Outlander". (I LOVED this book, it's one of my all time favorites.)
For all the author's protests that it's not a romance, the number of times the hero and heroine go boink throughout the series is mind-boggling. In the last book, I think they were ducking under hedges and darting into closets every three pages, but that might just be my imagination. Anyhow, take my word for this - the book is a romance. Another thing that's sure - everyone knows that the hero, Jamie, has blue eyes and red hair. How do we know? Because in every chapter we get a re-cap of his looks. Every time he changed expression, his looks are described. His blue eyes flashed. His blue eyes grew steely. His blue eyes crinkled with laughter.
Question: Do authors think that the reader will forget what the characters look like if they don't describe them at least once a chapter? Does it really add to the book to see the heroine's blond hair cited so often?
In the Martha Grimes mystery books I read, some of the characters have physical attributes that get repeated often. Melrose Plant has green eyes, I believe. And Inspector Jury is tall, dark, and handsome - though I can't vouch for the color of his eyes. Carrie-Ann is drop-dead gorgeous - but her whole character is nothing but a gorgeous physical description, so I can forgive Martha Grimes for foisting her upon us.
In the science fiction books I read, the hero usually gets described once or twice, (usually how he looked in his space-suit) and if there is a heroine, she's usually got some sort of physical description, but it fades into the background of the story unless it's a romance science fiction, in which case we'll have the hero and heorine described ad-nauseum in their space-suits, out of their space-suits, and how her blond hair looks floating in weightlessness.
Historical fiction (I was reading a fiction book based on the princes of Wales the other day) describes the people, but doesn't go on and on, (as in a historical romance) about broad shoulders beneath various colored capes, dresses of endless hues that bare creamy bosoms, and more about the eyes.
Why is it that romance harps endlessly on the physical description of the hero and heroine? For once, I'd love to read a romance novel that didn't mention the character's physical appearance every chapter. I can remember what they look like. You only have to describe them once, and maybe throw in a couple 'his blue eyes looked sorrowfully at her' or 'there was a ray of hope in her brown eyes...' and even then, it's not indispensible.
I like to use my imagination to fill in the blanks. Having someone described right down to the mole on their left calf is fine - as long as it's done only once. But if the author just mentions a "smokey gaze beneath a flame-colored mane of hair", I will be able to imagine something completely different (and far more fascinating) than if the author said; "Jilly Monet had dark gray eyes and bright red hair that hung well past her shoulders."
Sometimes, less is more. And in romance, description should be used more sparingly and with more respect for the reader's memory. Honest, I can remember that the hero has blue eyes. You don't have to hit me over the head with it every chapter. And even if you never mention their last names or eye color, if the romance is strong and the characters interesting...I won't even notice. My imagination will fill in the blanks.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
A fringed shawl
It's bitter cold out today so I'm sitting at my desk with a moss colored fringed shawl around my shoulders. For fun, I even put on a green and gold glass bead bracelet to match. I feel all dressed up. Do you sometimes dress up? I usually slop around the house in jeans and a big sweater. (I have on jeans and a sweater - I just added the shawl for the cold and the bracelet for the fun.)
But that's not the reason I started to blog. I was working on edits this morning, finished, and then sent off the manuscript hoping it will do. Then I blog-hopped for a bit, and stopped in at a professional's blog to see her take on promotion. She was raving about a writer who has a new way of promoting her book through a large blog space reserved (mainly) for musical groups and kids. Since the author had written a teen story, this was a great promotional idea. So I went over and admired the site. The band/music theme worked pretty well for a book. But this is what bothered me:
Being an author used to mean writing, sending the book to an editor and collecting royalties or getting a flat fee.
Being an author usually means holding down another job - very few authors can support themeselves writing (I think the percentage here in France, anyway, is 1% - not very inspiring is it?)
Being an author now means having to promote your own work.
It's a fact of writing life. Authors are encouraged by their publishers to have their websites, their blogs, their plogs, their writer's space, their 'freinds', their chat grops, their mailing lists, their newsletters, their contests, their chats, and their own original ideas about promoting their book. Not to mention traveling to conventions, book signings, postcards, business cards, bookmarks, cover flats, and special stickers with 'autographed copy' written on them. (If I've left anything out please let me know - I'm trying for a complete list here)
So this professional's blog got me depressed for a while as I struggled to come up with a new, exciting, fun way to promote my book that had nothing to do with going to jail, (those who read my blog will know what that means, lol) or spending money I don't have, or taking too huge a chunk of time out of my day. I like to write. I don't know how to promote. It's depressing to see this bubbly new idea that will probably work well but that will take up a lot of time. (This person has no kids or family life, I just noticed. Just write and promote. Some have all the luck.) So before depression settles even more firmly around my shoulders like a fringed shawl, I will stop thinking about promotion...and start something I am good at - writing my next novel.
But that's not the reason I started to blog. I was working on edits this morning, finished, and then sent off the manuscript hoping it will do. Then I blog-hopped for a bit, and stopped in at a professional's blog to see her take on promotion. She was raving about a writer who has a new way of promoting her book through a large blog space reserved (mainly) for musical groups and kids. Since the author had written a teen story, this was a great promotional idea. So I went over and admired the site. The band/music theme worked pretty well for a book. But this is what bothered me:
Being an author used to mean writing, sending the book to an editor and collecting royalties or getting a flat fee.
Being an author usually means holding down another job - very few authors can support themeselves writing (I think the percentage here in France, anyway, is 1% - not very inspiring is it?)
Being an author now means having to promote your own work.
It's a fact of writing life. Authors are encouraged by their publishers to have their websites, their blogs, their plogs, their writer's space, their 'freinds', their chat grops, their mailing lists, their newsletters, their contests, their chats, and their own original ideas about promoting their book. Not to mention traveling to conventions, book signings, postcards, business cards, bookmarks, cover flats, and special stickers with 'autographed copy' written on them. (If I've left anything out please let me know - I'm trying for a complete list here)
So this professional's blog got me depressed for a while as I struggled to come up with a new, exciting, fun way to promote my book that had nothing to do with going to jail, (those who read my blog will know what that means, lol) or spending money I don't have, or taking too huge a chunk of time out of my day. I like to write. I don't know how to promote. It's depressing to see this bubbly new idea that will probably work well but that will take up a lot of time. (This person has no kids or family life, I just noticed. Just write and promote. Some have all the luck.) So before depression settles even more firmly around my shoulders like a fringed shawl, I will stop thinking about promotion...and start something I am good at - writing my next novel.
Friday, March 03, 2006
The Human Tribe
I've been sick in bed for the past two days - the weather was so bad I caught a chill, and rather than fight it, I decided to just pamper myself, drink lots of chicken broth and tea, and sleep. So I did, and now feel much better. But while I felt too awful to work, I couldn't resist blog hopping. I look at my computer like a window open to the world. The world is so diverse, and so many people have such different lives that it's endlessly fascinating.
Here are blogs I discovered besides the one on my links list:
http://www.a-mother-from-gaza.blogspot.com/
and
http://www.chayyeisarah.blogspot.com/
There is also
http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/
and http://abacaximamao.blogspot.com/
All these blogs have more links from people who comment (read the comments and click on the posters) and you can go from Brazil to Australia to Israel to France to Iraq in the click of a mouse (a new cliché to take the place of 'wink of an eye')
And while I go back and forth I keep in mind the article I read a while back in the National Geographic about the human DNA - about how we are all descended from a hunter / gatherer tribe in Africa. There is a mitochondrial Eve who mothered the tribe of humans - mothered this incredibly diverse array of individuals who live in peace or are at war, who believe in different gods and mythology - but who ALL come from the same family. We all sprang from an African Eve...
It boggles the mind. And of the article, the thing I loved most was the comment from a native American who, while submitting to the DNA test, said, "I just hope it's not going to prove we're* all Swedish. *speaking about his tribe.
Personally, I love thinking that somehow I am related to every person on earth.
Here are blogs I discovered besides the one on my links list:
http://www.a-mother-from-gaza.blogspot.com/
and
http://www.chayyeisarah.blogspot.com/
There is also
http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/
and http://abacaximamao.blogspot.com/
All these blogs have more links from people who comment (read the comments and click on the posters) and you can go from Brazil to Australia to Israel to France to Iraq in the click of a mouse (a new cliché to take the place of 'wink of an eye')
And while I go back and forth I keep in mind the article I read a while back in the National Geographic about the human DNA - about how we are all descended from a hunter / gatherer tribe in Africa. There is a mitochondrial Eve who mothered the tribe of humans - mothered this incredibly diverse array of individuals who live in peace or are at war, who believe in different gods and mythology - but who ALL come from the same family. We all sprang from an African Eve...
It boggles the mind. And of the article, the thing I loved most was the comment from a native American who, while submitting to the DNA test, said, "I just hope it's not going to prove we're* all Swedish. *speaking about his tribe.
Personally, I love thinking that somehow I am related to every person on earth.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
My Glamorous Life as a Writer / Part 4
A little while after that book signing, I stopped telling people I was a writer. When I told people what I did they were always impressed. So how come I stopped? I think it was because people were impressed with the notion of writing a book, but their first question was never: “What is the book about?” it was always, “How many copies did you sell?” or “How is the book doing?” which took away the entire artistic, creative part of things and made me feel like a salesman or someone who’s worth was measured in dollar signs. I’ve never put much emphasis on dollar signs. I’d rather be measured by the things I’ve accomplished. Hopefully, I’ll have more friends at the end of my life than published books.
And then, one day this summer, I went to a big bookstore. It was so big and important, I didn’t dare tell them "I’m an author”. But I went to the children’s book section, and there was my book. I went to the erotic section, and there were two more of my books. And then my stepmother asked at the information desk if one of my historical books was available. The woman checked the computer and said, “Jennifer Macaire. Let’s see. We have ‘The Secret of Shabaz.” Here she paused, and then, to my immense delight, she said, “I know that book. It did really well here. My daughter read it and loved it.”
I couldn’t stop grinning, my stepmother introduced me as the author of the book, and I floated away on a cloud. It wasn’t finished though. The bookstore manager came looking for me in the aisles and said, “I noticed you have another book coming out soon. Would you be interested in doing a book signing here?”
He gave me his card and told me to contact him when I got back to NY.
My glamorous life as a writer came rolling back. It was worth it after all. Worth the rejections, the edits, the flashers, the measly pay and the heartbreak. It was worth it. Someone’s daughter had read my book...and loved it.
However, I can’t speak about my life as a write without mentioning ‘The Promise’. It’s a book I wrote when my sons were about nine. One day, they asked me to write a story where there were no grown-ups. “None at all?” I asked.
“None,” they replied firmly. And then Sebi gave me the idea. “They all got killed off by a virus,” he said.
So I sat down and wrote ‘The Promise’. It was a slim, unassuming story about a boy named Ryan who didn’t give up. He made a promise to his father, and he meant to keep it. He and his younger brother and sister made a voyage to the south of France, meeting other survivors along the way. It was a small book, but it had great consequences. My mother, an English teacher, decided to use it in her class in a maximum security prison for minors. In my book, the narrator is the hero of the story. But the boys in the prison identified with Red Sky – the villain. But Red Sky redeems himself in the book. The boys in the prison loved the book so much they asked my mother if she could find the film. My mother said the book wasn’t a film, but she knew the author. Incredulous, the boys demanded to know who it was. When she told them it was her daughter, they wondered if I couldn’t come in and talk to them about the book. It required several months of preparation, special permission, and lots of organizing – but the day arrived I went to prison to speak about my book.
I was a little wary, and had no idea what to expect. And it certainly wasn’t the barrage of thoughtful, interesting questions the boys asked me. From the metaphor of setting free the wolves, to Red Sky’s motives in saving the horse…everything had to be discussed at length.
Amazed by the visit, and amused by the demands I write a book ‘just for Red Sky’, I sat down and wrote a sequel and presented it to the classes for Christmas. (Just what they wanted – an unedited first draft!) My mother had them editing it for an English lesson one day. (How many of you can spot the misplaced modifier in this page? How many typos can you find?)
I’ve been back to the prison three times. Each time I’m thankful for the prison authorities who take the time to organize the day for me, and who make everything go so smoothly. A special thanks to the director and to my mom, of course, for letting me be part of the program. It really means far more to me than dollar signs to hear a young boy tell me, “Mrs. Macaire, I want to say something. When I’m out of here, and I have a wife and kids, I want to be sitting on my sofa one day and watching television and see your film, ‘The Promise’ with my kids. And if it doesn’t become a film, I’m still going to sit down and read the book to them. Because it was important to me. It made me see to the future.”
Well, after that – who needs a best seller?
And then, one day this summer, I went to a big bookstore. It was so big and important, I didn’t dare tell them "I’m an author”. But I went to the children’s book section, and there was my book. I went to the erotic section, and there were two more of my books. And then my stepmother asked at the information desk if one of my historical books was available. The woman checked the computer and said, “Jennifer Macaire. Let’s see. We have ‘The Secret of Shabaz.” Here she paused, and then, to my immense delight, she said, “I know that book. It did really well here. My daughter read it and loved it.”
I couldn’t stop grinning, my stepmother introduced me as the author of the book, and I floated away on a cloud. It wasn’t finished though. The bookstore manager came looking for me in the aisles and said, “I noticed you have another book coming out soon. Would you be interested in doing a book signing here?”
He gave me his card and told me to contact him when I got back to NY.
My glamorous life as a writer came rolling back. It was worth it after all. Worth the rejections, the edits, the flashers, the measly pay and the heartbreak. It was worth it. Someone’s daughter had read my book...and loved it.
However, I can’t speak about my life as a write without mentioning ‘The Promise’. It’s a book I wrote when my sons were about nine. One day, they asked me to write a story where there were no grown-ups. “None at all?” I asked.
“None,” they replied firmly. And then Sebi gave me the idea. “They all got killed off by a virus,” he said.
So I sat down and wrote ‘The Promise’. It was a slim, unassuming story about a boy named Ryan who didn’t give up. He made a promise to his father, and he meant to keep it. He and his younger brother and sister made a voyage to the south of France, meeting other survivors along the way. It was a small book, but it had great consequences. My mother, an English teacher, decided to use it in her class in a maximum security prison for minors. In my book, the narrator is the hero of the story. But the boys in the prison identified with Red Sky – the villain. But Red Sky redeems himself in the book. The boys in the prison loved the book so much they asked my mother if she could find the film. My mother said the book wasn’t a film, but she knew the author. Incredulous, the boys demanded to know who it was. When she told them it was her daughter, they wondered if I couldn’t come in and talk to them about the book. It required several months of preparation, special permission, and lots of organizing – but the day arrived I went to prison to speak about my book.
I was a little wary, and had no idea what to expect. And it certainly wasn’t the barrage of thoughtful, interesting questions the boys asked me. From the metaphor of setting free the wolves, to Red Sky’s motives in saving the horse…everything had to be discussed at length.
Amazed by the visit, and amused by the demands I write a book ‘just for Red Sky’, I sat down and wrote a sequel and presented it to the classes for Christmas. (Just what they wanted – an unedited first draft!) My mother had them editing it for an English lesson one day. (How many of you can spot the misplaced modifier in this page? How many typos can you find?)
I’ve been back to the prison three times. Each time I’m thankful for the prison authorities who take the time to organize the day for me, and who make everything go so smoothly. A special thanks to the director and to my mom, of course, for letting me be part of the program. It really means far more to me than dollar signs to hear a young boy tell me, “Mrs. Macaire, I want to say something. When I’m out of here, and I have a wife and kids, I want to be sitting on my sofa one day and watching television and see your film, ‘The Promise’ with my kids. And if it doesn’t become a film, I’m still going to sit down and read the book to them. Because it was important to me. It made me see to the future.”
Well, after that – who needs a best seller?
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
My Glamorous Life as a Writer / Part 3
My husband thought it was terrific. His wife the erotic romance writer. He told ALL his friends. They started calling me Samantha. The first time that happened I thought the person had forgotten my name and I corrected him. He winked and said, “Yes but Samantha is so much more exciting, according to your husband.”
I was torn between wanting to hit my husband or hit his friend. Writing was serious business! I was an intellectual! I soon got off my high horse. A well written book is fine. But in the erotic romance business the readers want emotion, characters they can care for, and lots of hot and interesting sex. Dithering over things like description, pacing, and atmosphere held me back. My editor told me to stop mucking around and Just Write!
Fine. I could do that. I had to adjust my attitude, but I was used to that. Anyone who has had kids knows that having an attitude is setting yourself up for a hard fall. Who can feel young and glamorous when your kid asks you what it was like living with the dinosaurs? Or when they see you in your bathing suit, their eyebrows go up, and they blurt, “You’re so fat!” (And the minute before you’d just been thinking how well you looked.) So attitude wasn’t the problem. I put my dreams about writing ‘literature’ aside and wrote...and published over fifteen erotic romance books.
But having kids also meant they were always begging me to write a story for them. So I did. I sat down and wrote ‘The Secret of Shabaz’. It was one of the hardest books I wrote. I wanted it to be for all ages, especially for teens – that group of children with an attention span of about thirteen seconds. I wanted it to be fun but at the same time I wanted to give readers something to think about. I love fantasy, so I wrote a magical tale full of adventure, a dash of horror, a pinch of romance, and with a heroine I would have wanted as a best friend. I finished it after two years of writing on it between erotic romances and sent it to Medallion Press. They loved it.
I was on cloud nine. I was a published author of a YA book! Now I could tell my whole family, even the ones who had weak hearts. This was exciting. I started getting an attitude again. I was going to NY for the summer, what better way to kick off the new book than with a book signing in a big bookstore? I looked up bookstores in the neighborhood and called them. Two agreed. I gave them the ISBN numbers and practised looking modest. (Hard to do – I was getting an attitude.) I found a passage to read that was not too long, not too short, and had some humor in it. Perfect. I found a little black dress that made my tummy almost look flat. I asked all my family and my friends living nearby to come. I brushed my teeth.
I arrived on time.
The bookseller had set up a little auditorium with a table and MY BOOKS sitting upon it. I had a poster the publisher gave me which I propped up near the books. I sat on the chair. I waved to my parents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles...and several strangers. The strangers sat up front. My family, in an élan of generosity, left the whole front row free. I introduced myself, picked up my book, and started to read.
The man front and center opened his legs wide.
He had on baggy shorts. He lifted them a bit to make sure I noticed he was not wearing any underwear.
I lost my place in the paragraph and had to start over. My first book signing and I was getting flashed.
I was determined not to let that little detail ruin my book signing. I would have understood if it had been for my erotic books. But this was a kids’ book, for goodness sake! My glamorous life as an author was taking another beating. I was at my first signing, damn it. I wasn’t going to let some pervert ruin it. And then the bookstore’s cat jumped on the table and sat on my pile of books. It wasn’t comfortable there. It jumped down and prowled around the table as I read. There were several titters. And I hadn’t gotten to the funny part yet. I risked a glance at the audience. Wrong move. Flasher had pushed his shorts up and was practically waving his equipment at me. The cat jumped down to my lap. Better. I kept reading. I didn’t miss a beat. Then the cat got bored and left. I finished reading and stood up, determined not to look at Flasher and ask the audience if anyone had any questions. There were more titters. I looked down. There was cat hair all over my black dress. It looked like I was wearing a gray apron. Resigned to my fate, I asked if there were any questions. There was a long silence. One person raised their hand.
“Yes, mom?” I said.
(to be continued...)
I was torn between wanting to hit my husband or hit his friend. Writing was serious business! I was an intellectual! I soon got off my high horse. A well written book is fine. But in the erotic romance business the readers want emotion, characters they can care for, and lots of hot and interesting sex. Dithering over things like description, pacing, and atmosphere held me back. My editor told me to stop mucking around and Just Write!
Fine. I could do that. I had to adjust my attitude, but I was used to that. Anyone who has had kids knows that having an attitude is setting yourself up for a hard fall. Who can feel young and glamorous when your kid asks you what it was like living with the dinosaurs? Or when they see you in your bathing suit, their eyebrows go up, and they blurt, “You’re so fat!” (And the minute before you’d just been thinking how well you looked.) So attitude wasn’t the problem. I put my dreams about writing ‘literature’ aside and wrote...and published over fifteen erotic romance books.
But having kids also meant they were always begging me to write a story for them. So I did. I sat down and wrote ‘The Secret of Shabaz’. It was one of the hardest books I wrote. I wanted it to be for all ages, especially for teens – that group of children with an attention span of about thirteen seconds. I wanted it to be fun but at the same time I wanted to give readers something to think about. I love fantasy, so I wrote a magical tale full of adventure, a dash of horror, a pinch of romance, and with a heroine I would have wanted as a best friend. I finished it after two years of writing on it between erotic romances and sent it to Medallion Press. They loved it.
I was on cloud nine. I was a published author of a YA book! Now I could tell my whole family, even the ones who had weak hearts. This was exciting. I started getting an attitude again. I was going to NY for the summer, what better way to kick off the new book than with a book signing in a big bookstore? I looked up bookstores in the neighborhood and called them. Two agreed. I gave them the ISBN numbers and practised looking modest. (Hard to do – I was getting an attitude.) I found a passage to read that was not too long, not too short, and had some humor in it. Perfect. I found a little black dress that made my tummy almost look flat. I asked all my family and my friends living nearby to come. I brushed my teeth.
I arrived on time.
The bookseller had set up a little auditorium with a table and MY BOOKS sitting upon it. I had a poster the publisher gave me which I propped up near the books. I sat on the chair. I waved to my parents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles...and several strangers. The strangers sat up front. My family, in an élan of generosity, left the whole front row free. I introduced myself, picked up my book, and started to read.
The man front and center opened his legs wide.
He had on baggy shorts. He lifted them a bit to make sure I noticed he was not wearing any underwear.
I lost my place in the paragraph and had to start over. My first book signing and I was getting flashed.
I was determined not to let that little detail ruin my book signing. I would have understood if it had been for my erotic books. But this was a kids’ book, for goodness sake! My glamorous life as an author was taking another beating. I was at my first signing, damn it. I wasn’t going to let some pervert ruin it. And then the bookstore’s cat jumped on the table and sat on my pile of books. It wasn’t comfortable there. It jumped down and prowled around the table as I read. There were several titters. And I hadn’t gotten to the funny part yet. I risked a glance at the audience. Wrong move. Flasher had pushed his shorts up and was practically waving his equipment at me. The cat jumped down to my lap. Better. I kept reading. I didn’t miss a beat. Then the cat got bored and left. I finished reading and stood up, determined not to look at Flasher and ask the audience if anyone had any questions. There were more titters. I looked down. There was cat hair all over my black dress. It looked like I was wearing a gray apron. Resigned to my fate, I asked if there were any questions. There was a long silence. One person raised their hand.
“Yes, mom?” I said.
(to be continued...)
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
My Glamorous Life as a Writer / Part 2
That was about the time I decided to write a short story about a journalist who goes back in time to interview Alexander the Great.
The story turned into a novel. The novel turned into a series of seven books. Writing that series was like breathing. It was both the easiest thing I ever did and the most necessary. I needed to write that series. It was like a baby inside me that grew and had to be born.
When I’d written all seven books I was stunned. There is a whole month out of my life where I can’t remember what I did or where I was. I think at that time we were in England, in a small stone house with hollyhocks all around it. The twins were nearly seven. It was time to take them back to France so they could go to school.
We moved to France, found a house to rent in a small village, and I bought a computer and typed up my series. It took about a year to type it all out and get it ready to submit. In the meantime I got the twins enrolled in school, made friends in my new village, and became pregnant with my daughter.
I thought that it would be easy to sell my series, but it was a time travel, a paranormal romance, a historical novel, and a campy, tongue-in-cheek spoof all at the same time. I tried every publisher in the book and then some. My daughter was born, learned to walk, and began to talk. And then I found a small publisher in Australia who took it and loved it.
I was a published author!
I told everyone I knew and those I didn’t know. I wrote postcards and letters and posted excerpts and made a web-site. I sent copies to reviewers and friends, and sat back waiting for the royalties to arrive. I was ecstatic. Especially after my publisher wrote to me and said I’d written an Australian best seller. Wow.
Let me just take this time to say that a best seller in Australia is a book that sells more than 200 copies.
To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. But the publisher was so happy I felt I should be happy too. I took my first royalty check and sent it to the bank, and tried not to calculate how many hours I’d worked on the book versus how much I’d made...which would work out to something like 0.03 cents an hour. Then the publisher folded and I got all my rights back to my series. I was back to square one. My glamorous life as an author had taken a serious drubbing. I picked myself up and called my mother.
“I will never write another book. I don’t care how good it was. It was a waste of time, that’s what it was.” I gave a self-pitying sniff.
Listening in to our conversation was my mother’s protégé, Sam. He spoke up. “You should never give up,” he said, sounding very sure of himself. “But if you want to earn money, you should write erotic books. They sell like crazy.”
Sam’s friend, Winston, chimed in. “That’s right. Don’t stop writing. You write too well.”
“If I write and erotic book, I’m using a pen name,” I said. “And if I take a pen name, it will be Sam Winston.”
“That works,” they said.
I hung up and thought about it.
Could I write erotic novels? Some of my short stories were sensual. Maybe I could. But first I had to read an erotic novel. I looked on the Internet – that vast repository of everything and anything – and found several online bookstores. Only one was specifically for erotic books. I bought one. It was pretty good. I liked the writing. The characters were well developed. The sex was hot—and there was sex all through the book. Despite that, there was a plot that had nothing to do with sex and I appreciated that. If I wrote an erotic book, I’d still like it to have a plot and interesting characters. I decided to give it a try.
I wrote ‘Casey Come Home’ and sent it to Ellora’s cave on July 17th 2002 at 3:30 p.m. At 5:30 p.m. I got an e-mail back from them. “We’d love to publish your book. Here is a contract, print out two copies and send them back signed on the dotted line.” (Or something like that.)
I ran outside and grabbed my husband who was busy washing the car. I spun him around and screamed, “They want to publish my book!”
The sun was shining. The sky was blue. I was once again a published author. I rushed back inside and grabbed my promotional sheet, ready to write notes and postcards to everyone I knew...and stopped. This was an erotic book. Half the people on my list were family members. Some had weak hearts. This was a dilemma. Who could I tell about Samantha Winston? Undeterred, I decided to join author groups online and ask their advice. That was a stroke of genius. Writers love to give advice, and ideas flowed from everyone. It was wonderful. And then I got my first edits.
Edits are interesting. After the first shock, I found I loved doing edits. I was disappointed that the title of my book ‘Casey Come Home’, would be changed to ‘A Grand Passion’, but the new title soon grew on me. And besides, I was a published author.
I just couldn’t tell anyone.
(to be continues...)
The story turned into a novel. The novel turned into a series of seven books. Writing that series was like breathing. It was both the easiest thing I ever did and the most necessary. I needed to write that series. It was like a baby inside me that grew and had to be born.
When I’d written all seven books I was stunned. There is a whole month out of my life where I can’t remember what I did or where I was. I think at that time we were in England, in a small stone house with hollyhocks all around it. The twins were nearly seven. It was time to take them back to France so they could go to school.
We moved to France, found a house to rent in a small village, and I bought a computer and typed up my series. It took about a year to type it all out and get it ready to submit. In the meantime I got the twins enrolled in school, made friends in my new village, and became pregnant with my daughter.
I thought that it would be easy to sell my series, but it was a time travel, a paranormal romance, a historical novel, and a campy, tongue-in-cheek spoof all at the same time. I tried every publisher in the book and then some. My daughter was born, learned to walk, and began to talk. And then I found a small publisher in Australia who took it and loved it.
I was a published author!
I told everyone I knew and those I didn’t know. I wrote postcards and letters and posted excerpts and made a web-site. I sent copies to reviewers and friends, and sat back waiting for the royalties to arrive. I was ecstatic. Especially after my publisher wrote to me and said I’d written an Australian best seller. Wow.
Let me just take this time to say that a best seller in Australia is a book that sells more than 200 copies.
To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. But the publisher was so happy I felt I should be happy too. I took my first royalty check and sent it to the bank, and tried not to calculate how many hours I’d worked on the book versus how much I’d made...which would work out to something like 0.03 cents an hour. Then the publisher folded and I got all my rights back to my series. I was back to square one. My glamorous life as an author had taken a serious drubbing. I picked myself up and called my mother.
“I will never write another book. I don’t care how good it was. It was a waste of time, that’s what it was.” I gave a self-pitying sniff.
Listening in to our conversation was my mother’s protégé, Sam. He spoke up. “You should never give up,” he said, sounding very sure of himself. “But if you want to earn money, you should write erotic books. They sell like crazy.”
Sam’s friend, Winston, chimed in. “That’s right. Don’t stop writing. You write too well.”
“If I write and erotic book, I’m using a pen name,” I said. “And if I take a pen name, it will be Sam Winston.”
“That works,” they said.
I hung up and thought about it.
Could I write erotic novels? Some of my short stories were sensual. Maybe I could. But first I had to read an erotic novel. I looked on the Internet – that vast repository of everything and anything – and found several online bookstores. Only one was specifically for erotic books. I bought one. It was pretty good. I liked the writing. The characters were well developed. The sex was hot—and there was sex all through the book. Despite that, there was a plot that had nothing to do with sex and I appreciated that. If I wrote an erotic book, I’d still like it to have a plot and interesting characters. I decided to give it a try.
I wrote ‘Casey Come Home’ and sent it to Ellora’s cave on July 17th 2002 at 3:30 p.m. At 5:30 p.m. I got an e-mail back from them. “We’d love to publish your book. Here is a contract, print out two copies and send them back signed on the dotted line.” (Or something like that.)
I ran outside and grabbed my husband who was busy washing the car. I spun him around and screamed, “They want to publish my book!”
The sun was shining. The sky was blue. I was once again a published author. I rushed back inside and grabbed my promotional sheet, ready to write notes and postcards to everyone I knew...and stopped. This was an erotic book. Half the people on my list were family members. Some had weak hearts. This was a dilemma. Who could I tell about Samantha Winston? Undeterred, I decided to join author groups online and ask their advice. That was a stroke of genius. Writers love to give advice, and ideas flowed from everyone. It was wonderful. And then I got my first edits.
Edits are interesting. After the first shock, I found I loved doing edits. I was disappointed that the title of my book ‘Casey Come Home’, would be changed to ‘A Grand Passion’, but the new title soon grew on me. And besides, I was a published author.
I just couldn’t tell anyone.
(to be continues...)
Monday, February 27, 2006
My Glamorous Life as a Writer / Part 1
My Glamorous Life as a Writer
Part One
I wrote my first book out longhand on a yellow notepad. I was in Argentina and really didn’t have much else to do. We were staying in the countryside, which basically meant no neighbors for a hundred miles, and my twins were still toddlers - they would turn three in a month. We had a housekeeper who adored cooking for my husband and playing with my children, so for the first time in my life I didn’t have to cook, clean, or run after the twins. The house was surrounded by mile after mile of flat plain and tall eucalyptus trees that rustled in the wind. The wind was a constant presence. There were also swarms of mosquitoes at night and rainstorms during the day that flooded our pool and garden.
The twins spent half their time in the pool and the other half sitting on the couch wearing motorcycle helmets and watching cartoons in Spanish. The helmets had been in the house and the boys thought they were cool.
My husband was buying horses, which meant he was away most of the time, horses being spread far and wide in Argentine. On most days, he drove anywhere between five to ten hours...one way, to see a horse and try it. If the horse was any good, they loaded it in the truck and brought it back to the farm for a week to see what happened when the drugs wore off. It was a given that most horse-dealers drugged their animals or did something to them to make them act like polo ponies. In those days, finding a real polo pony was harder than nowadays. But the drugs and tricks have remained the same. At any rate, we had a barn full of horses, grooms, and I could ride whenever I wanted. But I didn't want to leave the twins alone all day, so I stayed in the house. I was bored. I decided to write a book. My first novel was a fun book to write, and I kept at it doggedly.
I liked sitting on the veranda watching the twins play the pool, while writing my book.
People who came to visit were impressed. “A writer!” they would exclaim.
I liked being called the writer. Usually I drew pictures, but “An artist” doesn’t carry as much weight as “A writer” does. It sounded important, not flaky. Artists were flaky. Writers were intellectual. As much as I hate to admit it, I preferred being thought of as an intellectual, and not as a flake. My career as a writer was born. I thought it was glamorous and intellectual.
During the three months we were in Argentina, I taught my twins to swim, finished my novel, and wrote a couple articles for the Polo Magazine. I sent the articles in and they were accepted and published. Writing seemed a cinch. Then we went back to France, I bought a type-writer, and I typed up my story.
It was the first time I’d ever typed anything. It took a long time, a lot of paper, and much ink. When it was finished, I sent it to a friend who proof-read it and submitted it to an agent she’d met at a party.
The agent met us in NYC the next month, and was very kind. She told me the book was good but that it needed work. I had a knack for character development and plot, but I needed work on my writing skills. She thought I should try writing short stories for a while and then polish up and re-submit the book. She gave me her card and wished me luck.
I was thrilled. I realized that the agent had done me an enormous favor by meeting me in person and giving so much of her time. I also realized that writing was not as easy as I thought. Her idea about fixing the book was good but daunting. However, the short story part of her advice sounded perfect. I’d always liked writing short stories. That’s what I’d do.
I read a lot of short stories. I’ve always enjoyed them.
I sat down and wrote a short story and sent it to the Bear Deluxe Magazine in Oregon. They accepted it. Well, I thought, that’s easy.
My next twenty short stories were rejected by twenty different magazines.
I polished them up, revised them, and sent them out again. Slowly, I started selling them. Then one of them won a prize, and another was nominated for the Pushcart award, and I started to become more sure of my craft.
That was about the time I decided to write a short story about a journalist who goes back in time to interview Alexander the Great.
By now, the twins were four and we were still travelling. Writing was simply a hobby for me, like my drawing and painting.
(to be continued...)
Part One
I wrote my first book out longhand on a yellow notepad. I was in Argentina and really didn’t have much else to do. We were staying in the countryside, which basically meant no neighbors for a hundred miles, and my twins were still toddlers - they would turn three in a month. We had a housekeeper who adored cooking for my husband and playing with my children, so for the first time in my life I didn’t have to cook, clean, or run after the twins. The house was surrounded by mile after mile of flat plain and tall eucalyptus trees that rustled in the wind. The wind was a constant presence. There were also swarms of mosquitoes at night and rainstorms during the day that flooded our pool and garden.
The twins spent half their time in the pool and the other half sitting on the couch wearing motorcycle helmets and watching cartoons in Spanish. The helmets had been in the house and the boys thought they were cool.
My husband was buying horses, which meant he was away most of the time, horses being spread far and wide in Argentine. On most days, he drove anywhere between five to ten hours...one way, to see a horse and try it. If the horse was any good, they loaded it in the truck and brought it back to the farm for a week to see what happened when the drugs wore off. It was a given that most horse-dealers drugged their animals or did something to them to make them act like polo ponies. In those days, finding a real polo pony was harder than nowadays. But the drugs and tricks have remained the same. At any rate, we had a barn full of horses, grooms, and I could ride whenever I wanted. But I didn't want to leave the twins alone all day, so I stayed in the house. I was bored. I decided to write a book. My first novel was a fun book to write, and I kept at it doggedly.
I liked sitting on the veranda watching the twins play the pool, while writing my book.
People who came to visit were impressed. “A writer!” they would exclaim.
I liked being called the writer. Usually I drew pictures, but “An artist” doesn’t carry as much weight as “A writer” does. It sounded important, not flaky. Artists were flaky. Writers were intellectual. As much as I hate to admit it, I preferred being thought of as an intellectual, and not as a flake. My career as a writer was born. I thought it was glamorous and intellectual.
During the three months we were in Argentina, I taught my twins to swim, finished my novel, and wrote a couple articles for the Polo Magazine. I sent the articles in and they were accepted and published. Writing seemed a cinch. Then we went back to France, I bought a type-writer, and I typed up my story.
It was the first time I’d ever typed anything. It took a long time, a lot of paper, and much ink. When it was finished, I sent it to a friend who proof-read it and submitted it to an agent she’d met at a party.
The agent met us in NYC the next month, and was very kind. She told me the book was good but that it needed work. I had a knack for character development and plot, but I needed work on my writing skills. She thought I should try writing short stories for a while and then polish up and re-submit the book. She gave me her card and wished me luck.
I was thrilled. I realized that the agent had done me an enormous favor by meeting me in person and giving so much of her time. I also realized that writing was not as easy as I thought. Her idea about fixing the book was good but daunting. However, the short story part of her advice sounded perfect. I’d always liked writing short stories. That’s what I’d do.
I read a lot of short stories. I’ve always enjoyed them.
I sat down and wrote a short story and sent it to the Bear Deluxe Magazine in Oregon. They accepted it. Well, I thought, that’s easy.
My next twenty short stories were rejected by twenty different magazines.
I polished them up, revised them, and sent them out again. Slowly, I started selling them. Then one of them won a prize, and another was nominated for the Pushcart award, and I started to become more sure of my craft.
That was about the time I decided to write a short story about a journalist who goes back in time to interview Alexander the Great.
By now, the twins were four and we were still travelling. Writing was simply a hobby for me, like my drawing and painting.
(to be continued...)
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Cold day, dog stuff
It's cold. Not quite cold enough to freeze, but cold enough to make your breath turn white as you walk. The air bites and it's wet. The sun is hidden behind a uniform layer of gray clouds. The dogs sit on the steps when I put them out and whine to come back inside. Auguste, who has yet to learn not to scratch at the door, stands up on his hind legs and scrabbles at the door.
This is what I do. I say 'No!' and I dump a glass of water on him. He stares at me in shock and then turns to look at Rusty, who is sitting a few feet away with an "I told you so dummy" expression on her face. Rusty does not scratch on the door. She learned with the water method, and I'm pretty sure Auguste will learn too.
When guests come over, Auguste launches himself at them like a mini torpedo. That too will pass. I catch his collar quite firmly and make him sit. He's only 4 months old, and so far he knows how to sit and wait for me to put his food dish down, to go lie in his bed and stay, and to sit with Rusty in her bed and stay (at least for five minutes, lol). He comes when I call him, which annoys Rusty, because Auguste runs when I call him. Rusty is slow. She likes to amble. But Auguste dashes toward me when I call his name and Rusty is always afraid she may be missing some treat, so she heaves a great sigh and breaks into a trot.
Auguste is shiny clean this evening. I took him upstairs and gave him a proper bath. After the muddy walk he was caked with dirt and the water was black. He was very upset with the bath and pretended to be terrified.
Both dogs were patient today while I worked. They love their walk, but some days I just don't have the time (thus the shutting them outside in the garden.) Luckily my daughter and her friend offered to take them out, so they were quite happy and tired this evening. (After his bath Auguste went into his bed and fell asleep. I can just see the tip of his tail from here.)
I apologise for the boring doggy post, but aside from working on my book and washing the dog, I did absolutely nothing today at all!
This is what I do. I say 'No!' and I dump a glass of water on him. He stares at me in shock and then turns to look at Rusty, who is sitting a few feet away with an "I told you so dummy" expression on her face. Rusty does not scratch on the door. She learned with the water method, and I'm pretty sure Auguste will learn too.
When guests come over, Auguste launches himself at them like a mini torpedo. That too will pass. I catch his collar quite firmly and make him sit. He's only 4 months old, and so far he knows how to sit and wait for me to put his food dish down, to go lie in his bed and stay, and to sit with Rusty in her bed and stay (at least for five minutes, lol). He comes when I call him, which annoys Rusty, because Auguste runs when I call him. Rusty is slow. She likes to amble. But Auguste dashes toward me when I call his name and Rusty is always afraid she may be missing some treat, so she heaves a great sigh and breaks into a trot.
Auguste is shiny clean this evening. I took him upstairs and gave him a proper bath. After the muddy walk he was caked with dirt and the water was black. He was very upset with the bath and pretended to be terrified.
Both dogs were patient today while I worked. They love their walk, but some days I just don't have the time (thus the shutting them outside in the garden.) Luckily my daughter and her friend offered to take them out, so they were quite happy and tired this evening. (After his bath Auguste went into his bed and fell asleep. I can just see the tip of his tail from here.)
I apologise for the boring doggy post, but aside from working on my book and washing the dog, I did absolutely nothing today at all!
Friday, February 24, 2006
A very muddy walk
Today we woke up to four inches of white, fluffy snow. I decided to take the dogs for a walk this morning which was a good thing, because by noon the snow had all melted except in shady places under the trees.
Auguste loved the snow--it was his first 'big' snowfall. He liked to eat it, and would take big snapping mouthfuls of it and gulp it down.
This afternoon it was very sunny, so my son and I took the dogs out again and took a longer walk to the fields behind the village. It was very, very muddy.
We saw a hare. It bounded right out of the bushes in front of me and the dogs took a few steps after it but when we called them back they stopped. Even the dogs could see the futility of chasing after that hare. Besides, we were ankle deep in mud at that point. It stuck to our boots and weighed us down, but the sun was shining and there was no breeze, for once, up on the crest of the hill, so it was almost warm out. We had a nice view of the village. Then we went back down into the hollow and washed our boots off in the washing shed. The water was freezing but the dogs didn't mind, and even Auguste was soon splashing around in it. (Which was a good thing - he was covered in mud)
There are washing sheds like this in almost all the villages. Not so very long ago, the washing was done sitting at the edge of the pool, rubbing the cloth on the smooth stone with a bar of laundry soap. They still sell the bars of soap here - huge white bars of fragrant soap(that don't float, lol.)
I can only imagine how heavy the wet laundry was and how awful it must have been pushing it in a wheelbarrow back up the hill. In our back yard there is a shed with a hay rack. Maybe there was a donkey once there, and they used the donkey to carry the laundry?
I think I'd love a time-machine.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
White Sky
It's snowing out. The smallest snowflakes I've ever seen are floating about as if the air is full of dust motes or tiny feathers.
The air is white and there is the faintest coating of sugar-frosting on the tree trunks and cars. Maybe it will stick on the ground, but I don't think so. It wasn't supposed to snow until tommorow, but it's better than the drizzling rain we were supposed to get.
I went to the gym this morning and it was 'stretching' day.' I don't stretch. I can't touch my toes and so today was like a torture session for me as we bent and pulled and twisted every which way. I took yoga hoping to get more supple, not realizing how much it would help my back. Now I can't do without my yoga class, but I still can't stand up, keep my legs straight, and touch my toes. There are just some things I can't do.
I have to get back to work on my book now. Yesterday I drew up a timeline, a character list, and made a map of the city the story takes place in. I needed to visualize a few things. I also have to choose a name for the nightclub in the book -What do you think? It's a burlesque club with a pool room, dance floor, and small stage for an occasional male strip show.
So for THURSDAY THIRTEEN...
Here are my 13 choices: (This is my friend Andrea and I brainstorming - her with jet-lag and me with an ear-ache, lol)
1) The Curtain
2) Purple Velvet
3) Red Curtains
4) Curtains
5) Purple
6) Red
7) Scarlet
8) Dee's Place
9) Purple Dee
10) Red Velvet
11) Scarlet Dee
12) Strip Me
13) ???
Well - I'm still open to suggestions!
Have a good day -
Sam
PS - visit more Thursday Thirteens!
http://cheekylotus.blogspot.com
http://ruthakik.blogspot.com
The air is white and there is the faintest coating of sugar-frosting on the tree trunks and cars. Maybe it will stick on the ground, but I don't think so. It wasn't supposed to snow until tommorow, but it's better than the drizzling rain we were supposed to get.
I went to the gym this morning and it was 'stretching' day.' I don't stretch. I can't touch my toes and so today was like a torture session for me as we bent and pulled and twisted every which way. I took yoga hoping to get more supple, not realizing how much it would help my back. Now I can't do without my yoga class, but I still can't stand up, keep my legs straight, and touch my toes. There are just some things I can't do.
I have to get back to work on my book now. Yesterday I drew up a timeline, a character list, and made a map of the city the story takes place in. I needed to visualize a few things. I also have to choose a name for the nightclub in the book -What do you think? It's a burlesque club with a pool room, dance floor, and small stage for an occasional male strip show.
So for THURSDAY THIRTEEN...
Here are my 13 choices: (This is my friend Andrea and I brainstorming - her with jet-lag and me with an ear-ache, lol)
1) The Curtain
2) Purple Velvet
3) Red Curtains
4) Curtains
5) Purple
6) Red
7) Scarlet
8) Dee's Place
9) Purple Dee
10) Red Velvet
11) Scarlet Dee
12) Strip Me
13) ???
Well - I'm still open to suggestions!
Have a good day -
Sam
PS - visit more Thursday Thirteens!
http://cheekylotus.blogspot.com
http://ruthakik.blogspot.com
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Play Along!
Current Clothing: sweat pants, tee-shirt, zipped sweater (I'm off to yoga class in 15 minutes)
Current Hair: Ponytail for yoga class. Keeps slipping out though. Messy.
Current Mood: Still euphoric about getting an agent. Thinking about rewrites; taking book apart in my head.
Current Refreshment: White tea.
Current Annoyance: The freezing rain. It's all slushy mud outside. Ugh.
Current Avoidance: Ironing
Current Smell: Wet dogs - they just came indoors.
Current Thing You Ought to be Doing: Getting ready for yoga.
Current Thing or Things on Your Wall: My French rugbyman calendar. (Oh La La!!)
Current IM person You’re Talking To: No one’s online!
Current Jewelry: wedding ring.
Current Book: I'm reading a mystery set in the middle ages - it's the second book in the series I started last week. Way cool.
Your turn!
Current Hair: Ponytail for yoga class. Keeps slipping out though. Messy.
Current Mood: Still euphoric about getting an agent. Thinking about rewrites; taking book apart in my head.
Current Refreshment: White tea.
Current Annoyance: The freezing rain. It's all slushy mud outside. Ugh.
Current Avoidance: Ironing
Current Smell: Wet dogs - they just came indoors.
Current Thing You Ought to be Doing: Getting ready for yoga.
Current Thing or Things on Your Wall: My French rugbyman calendar. (Oh La La!!)
Current IM person You’re Talking To: No one’s online!
Current Jewelry: wedding ring.
Current Book: I'm reading a mystery set in the middle ages - it's the second book in the series I started last week. Way cool.
Your turn!
Monday, February 20, 2006
Monday Musings
So I'm officially signed up with an agent today! I'm wondering if my head can get any bigger. I can't wait to go to NY and say, "I'm heading to the city this week to see my agent." Dontcha know. Where's my tiara, Dakota? LOL.
Of course, this means nothing for the time being. She has my book and loves it, and will send me a two page list of things to work on tomorrow, lol. (She wondered if I would be able to finish by May. She doesn't know how fast I work, lol.) Afterward the book has to be sold and then sell to the public, so there are many, many steps to be taken.
This is what is fun about starting any relationship - and I'm looking forward to working with an agent.
I remember starting off with my first editor, Allie from Ellora's Cave. She was terrific - very helpful - and her advice (very good advice) was to READ other books. She used to send me lists of books she wanted me to read, and, wanting to make progress - I read. I still think reading is a great way to learn to write. Some of the books she told me "You're going to hate this one - but watch how the author developes the tension between the hero and heroine." Or she'd say, "this book is great for its plot." And she was right, and reading the books helped me immensely.
My second editor was my darling Mama Z, who helped polish up 'Diamina' from a rambling fable into a tightly woven fantasy tale. Then I was lucky to have Martha, senior editor from Ellora's Cave and a terrific editor, who helped make 'My Fair Pixie' into a best-seller for Ellora's Cave, (and a Silver Star too!) Now I have Ann, and she's absolutely essential for my writing. I feel so confident when she tells me that edits are finished - I know there are no more mistakes in the book; she is amazingly thorough. And I can't talk about editors without mentioning Erin from Loose-Id, who spent so much time with me polishing Virtual Murder into the shiny book it is, (as well as Battle's Bride and Time Traveller, not to mention Ice Man!) And from Changeling Press, Maryam - who is so much fun to work with because she always has so much positive things to say about my writing (we authors need that sort of thing, lol!)
But each relationship started with that first contact, the first comments about the book, and the first suggestions about how to make it better.
I await these suggestions with impatience. I'm one of those geeky authors who think that editors make books 'sparkle', and I love to edit. Perhaps it's because I have such fun editing with my mom (who was, truth be told, my English teacher in school as well as my first editor.) I learned to take criticsm from her, because she is Good, and because she never babied me. If she thought my writing sucked, she said so, and left it to me to figure out how to make it better.
Her best advice: "When in doubt, leave it out." In other words, don't agonize over a sentence or a phrase - if you are, it's probably better to just cut it out.
Believe me - it's good advice, lol.
We used to sit and edit my books, and sometimes we'd be laughing until we cried at the misplaced modifiers (my personal favorites) or the repeated words ("How many times can you fit 'bit' on one page, Sam?") and then she'd point out where the plot sagged and I'd fix it (that's one thing I'm good at is fixing things - even around the house) or she'd tell me to cut something (and I do - I don't mind cutting. It makes the writing tighter)
And now I realise I'm rambling and she'd probably have me cut that last paragraph but I'll leave it in, because blogging, thank goodness, doesn't get edited, lol.
And my ear still aches today so I'm wearing a hat in the house. Thank goodness I'm not expecting royalty.
Of course, this means nothing for the time being. She has my book and loves it, and will send me a two page list of things to work on tomorrow, lol. (She wondered if I would be able to finish by May. She doesn't know how fast I work, lol.) Afterward the book has to be sold and then sell to the public, so there are many, many steps to be taken.
This is what is fun about starting any relationship - and I'm looking forward to working with an agent.
I remember starting off with my first editor, Allie from Ellora's Cave. She was terrific - very helpful - and her advice (very good advice) was to READ other books. She used to send me lists of books she wanted me to read, and, wanting to make progress - I read. I still think reading is a great way to learn to write. Some of the books she told me "You're going to hate this one - but watch how the author developes the tension between the hero and heroine." Or she'd say, "this book is great for its plot." And she was right, and reading the books helped me immensely.
My second editor was my darling Mama Z, who helped polish up 'Diamina' from a rambling fable into a tightly woven fantasy tale. Then I was lucky to have Martha, senior editor from Ellora's Cave and a terrific editor, who helped make 'My Fair Pixie' into a best-seller for Ellora's Cave, (and a Silver Star too!) Now I have Ann, and she's absolutely essential for my writing. I feel so confident when she tells me that edits are finished - I know there are no more mistakes in the book; she is amazingly thorough. And I can't talk about editors without mentioning Erin from Loose-Id, who spent so much time with me polishing Virtual Murder into the shiny book it is, (as well as Battle's Bride and Time Traveller, not to mention Ice Man!) And from Changeling Press, Maryam - who is so much fun to work with because she always has so much positive things to say about my writing (we authors need that sort of thing, lol!)
But each relationship started with that first contact, the first comments about the book, and the first suggestions about how to make it better.
I await these suggestions with impatience. I'm one of those geeky authors who think that editors make books 'sparkle', and I love to edit. Perhaps it's because I have such fun editing with my mom (who was, truth be told, my English teacher in school as well as my first editor.) I learned to take criticsm from her, because she is Good, and because she never babied me. If she thought my writing sucked, she said so, and left it to me to figure out how to make it better.
Her best advice: "When in doubt, leave it out." In other words, don't agonize over a sentence or a phrase - if you are, it's probably better to just cut it out.
Believe me - it's good advice, lol.
We used to sit and edit my books, and sometimes we'd be laughing until we cried at the misplaced modifiers (my personal favorites) or the repeated words ("How many times can you fit 'bit' on one page, Sam?") and then she'd point out where the plot sagged and I'd fix it (that's one thing I'm good at is fixing things - even around the house) or she'd tell me to cut something (and I do - I don't mind cutting. It makes the writing tighter)
And now I realise I'm rambling and she'd probably have me cut that last paragraph but I'll leave it in, because blogging, thank goodness, doesn't get edited, lol.
And my ear still aches today so I'm wearing a hat in the house. Thank goodness I'm not expecting royalty.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
We are Happy today!
Well, my ear still hurts but that's all right - I just got an e-mail from the nice agent I submitted Jack to, and she loves it, and wants to sign me up!!!
(add more '!!!'s)
And I'm sitting here with the puppy asleep on my lap (and he smells funny - time for a puppy bath) trying to type and not wake him up, and I'm thrilled, just thrilled that Jack will be in such good hands.
Yay!!
Puppy is now snoring, I don't think I have to worry about waking him up. And Rusty has somehow squeezed herself in the puppy bed on the floor. She looks uncomfortable, but she was determined to sleep in the puppy bed.
Today's schedule:
1:Blog a bit about my good news!
2:Take daughter to pony club
3:Watch Olympics
4:Call friends and family & chat about good news!(it's Sunday and rates are lower so I usually call everyone on Sundays)
5:Pick up daughter from pony club
6:Watch more Olympics, day-dream some more about good news
Busy day in perspective.
Now if only puppy will wake up!
(add more '!!!'s)
And I'm sitting here with the puppy asleep on my lap (and he smells funny - time for a puppy bath) trying to type and not wake him up, and I'm thrilled, just thrilled that Jack will be in such good hands.
Yay!!
Puppy is now snoring, I don't think I have to worry about waking him up. And Rusty has somehow squeezed herself in the puppy bed on the floor. She looks uncomfortable, but she was determined to sleep in the puppy bed.
Today's schedule:
1:Blog a bit about my good news!
2:Take daughter to pony club
3:Watch Olympics
4:Call friends and family & chat about good news!(it's Sunday and rates are lower so I usually call everyone on Sundays)
5:Pick up daughter from pony club
6:Watch more Olympics, day-dream some more about good news
Busy day in perspective.
Now if only puppy will wake up!
Saturday, February 18, 2006
ear-ache
Ouch - I have an ear-ache. I went to the doctor and he gave me a perscription, so I have some medicine for it. But my head hurts and the medicine makes me very sleepy.
Anyhow, good news - I finished my WIP first draft and sent it off to a very nice agent who responded to my query in record time. I was surprised - I thought I'd have at least another 2 weeks to work on the book, but she requested the full the same day I sent the query off when I was only about 3/4 of the way done. Luckily I had a solid outline / synopsis so I just sat down and wrote the ending in a week (about 20K)
It will certainly need fleshing out, but after going over it one last time before sending it off, I was really happy with the bones of the story. One thing about writing sparse, you can always add more later. I actually add a lot during edits - it's rare when I don't add 15- 20K to a finished book during edits. I'm also a good edit, take advice well, and can usually turn out a clean copy fast. I'm trying to think of the last time I had to cut things out of a book but I usually do that as I'm writing (picky writer here), and I love my mom's advice -" when in doubt, leave it out." That makes editing so much easier, lol. It's also good advice to an author - if you're agonizing over a sentence or a phrase, it's probably best just to eliminate it.
Anyhow, I'm off to bed now with a hot tea and to watch 'March of the Emperor' (about the penguins - not Napoleon.)
Anyhow, good news - I finished my WIP first draft and sent it off to a very nice agent who responded to my query in record time. I was surprised - I thought I'd have at least another 2 weeks to work on the book, but she requested the full the same day I sent the query off when I was only about 3/4 of the way done. Luckily I had a solid outline / synopsis so I just sat down and wrote the ending in a week (about 20K)
It will certainly need fleshing out, but after going over it one last time before sending it off, I was really happy with the bones of the story. One thing about writing sparse, you can always add more later. I actually add a lot during edits - it's rare when I don't add 15- 20K to a finished book during edits. I'm also a good edit, take advice well, and can usually turn out a clean copy fast. I'm trying to think of the last time I had to cut things out of a book but I usually do that as I'm writing (picky writer here), and I love my mom's advice -" when in doubt, leave it out." That makes editing so much easier, lol. It's also good advice to an author - if you're agonizing over a sentence or a phrase, it's probably best just to eliminate it.
Anyhow, I'm off to bed now with a hot tea and to watch 'March of the Emperor' (about the penguins - not Napoleon.)
Feb. TBR read
Title:
A deadly Brew
Author
Susanna Gregory
Year Published
2003
Why did you get this book?
I read a blurb somewhere (can't rememeber where, then I went to the author's website and liked what I saw)
http://www.matthewbartholomew.co.uk/
Do you like the cover?
Yes, it's purple with a gold cup on it - very stark but effective.
Did you enjoy the book?
Very much - I love mysteries and the middle ages - this was right up my alley.
Would you read something by this author again?
Definitely
Are you keeping it or passing it on?
Keeping it
Anything else?
It's part of a series and now I want to track down the rest.
A deadly Brew
Author
Susanna Gregory
Year Published
2003
Why did you get this book?
I read a blurb somewhere (can't rememeber where, then I went to the author's website and liked what I saw)
http://www.matthewbartholomew.co.uk/
Do you like the cover?
Yes, it's purple with a gold cup on it - very stark but effective.
Did you enjoy the book?
Very much - I love mysteries and the middle ages - this was right up my alley.
Would you read something by this author again?
Definitely
Are you keeping it or passing it on?
Keeping it
Anything else?
It's part of a series and now I want to track down the rest.
Friday, February 17, 2006
HAYAO MIYAZAKI
I have some films here that I never get tired of watching. They have nothing to do with the Disney style films you might know. They are magnificent.
They are by HAYAO MIYAZAKI, one of the modern masters of Japanese cinema. Hayao Miyazaki (Director/Writer) has created some of the most admired and influential animated films of recent decades.
Here are the 4 films I have:
LAPUTA CASTLE IN THE SKY
KIKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE
PRINCESS MONONOKE
SPIRITED AWAY
My favorite is "Spirited Away", a film about a young girl caught in the world of spirits and who tries to save her parents.¨
Then I love "Princess Monokoke", a story that combines the Japanese middle ages and an ecological fable, told with humor and utterly engaging characters.
"Laputa, Castle in the Sky" is an adventure with a science fiction tone to it, while "Kiki's Delivery Service" is about a young witch trying to find a place for herself in the world.
If you like whimsy, magic, beautiful drawings, wonderful characters, and music, don't miss a chance to see these films - or any film by Hayao Miyazaki and his legendary film studio, STUDIO GHIBLI!
They are by HAYAO MIYAZAKI, one of the modern masters of Japanese cinema. Hayao Miyazaki (Director/Writer) has created some of the most admired and influential animated films of recent decades.
Here are the 4 films I have:
LAPUTA CASTLE IN THE SKY
KIKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE
PRINCESS MONONOKE
SPIRITED AWAY
My favorite is "Spirited Away", a film about a young girl caught in the world of spirits and who tries to save her parents.¨
Then I love "Princess Monokoke", a story that combines the Japanese middle ages and an ecological fable, told with humor and utterly engaging characters.
"Laputa, Castle in the Sky" is an adventure with a science fiction tone to it, while "Kiki's Delivery Service" is about a young witch trying to find a place for herself in the world.
If you like whimsy, magic, beautiful drawings, wonderful characters, and music, don't miss a chance to see these films - or any film by Hayao Miyazaki and his legendary film studio, STUDIO GHIBLI!
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Thirteen!
 |
Thirteen Things I love about ARGENTINA I just drove my husband to the airport - he's off to Argentine for ten days, the lucky guy! I love Argentina, and here's why: 1. I went there for my honeymoon 2. Bueanos Aires looks like Paris 3. In the spring, the city is covered with flowering Judas trees - beautiful lavender flowers everywhere 4. The people are wonderful 5. The meat is amazing - my favorite is asado de tira (I'm sure I spelled that wrong) beef short ribs, grilled, with salad. 6. The countryside is wild, full of emus and horses 7. The polo fields are in the middle of the city, and polo is the national sport 8. Driving is a bit crazy - the roads are so full of potholes you drive on the shoulder half the time 9. Alfajorés (sweet bisquits with dulcé de leché and chocolate) 10. It's fun to go to the tango bars 11. There are sea lions in the ocean. The coast is fabulous. 12. When it's winter here, it's summer there. 13. The Argentines have a fun sense of humor, even when things are terrible they can joke. Here is a joke someone sent me when the country was bankrupt and rioting: Two men are in a bar talking. One man says to the other, "I have the answer to our problems. All we have to do is declare war on the U.S., they'll come and win the war, and then rebuild our country!" His friend looked at him and said, "Yes, but what if we win?" Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Kate Rothwell http://katerothwell.blogspot.com/ 2. Douglas Hoffman http://ballsandwalnuts.com/?p=40#comments 3. Jona's Thirteen http://remember365.blogspot.com/2006/02/thirteen.html 4. Lena http://cheekylotus.blogspot.com/ 5. Ocean Lady http://0ceanlady.blogspot.com/ |
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Happy Valentine's Day!
ONE DAY CONTEST!!
Be My Valentine, and win a copy of Darla's Valentine!
Send me an e-mail wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day - I'll pick a winner tomorrow and send a pdf copy of Darla to the lucky winner -
Good Luck!
SAM
samantha_winston@hotmail.com
Monday, February 13, 2006
Winter Oh Lick Lips
One of my twins once called the Olympics the 'oh lick lips'. The twins were always mangling words, and I never corrected them, prefering 'spalstic' to plastic, and finding 'hopper grasses' much cuter than a grass hopper.
Anyhow, I love watching the olympics, and so yesterday I had the TV on while I worked, and I managed to catch the mens' downhill and see the French guy win, much to the surprise of everyone. (it's nicer when the winner is a surprise) And then I got a lot more work done during the cross-counrty ski race, (that lasts an hour and a half), since there are practically no commercials here in France. I managed to get a lot of work done because you see five minutes of cross country skiiing - you've seen it all.
I'm looking forward to the skiing and shooting race, which a journalist over at the Guardian likened to swimming a legnth of a pool, then getting out to strangle someone...That might be entertaining too, especially if the swimmer has to chase and catch his intended victim. (swimming, racing, and wrestling) But I happen to like sharp shooting, and the skiing helps me get a lot of work done while I don't watch it.
And speaking of shooting, I read that the VP of the US, Cheney, shot someone while hunting quail. Now, I don't hunt. But I grew up with a passle of hunting uncles, and my husband is an avid hunter. The VP shot someone in the face and chest, which meant he was shooting way low - birds fly in the air, folks, and unless you're trigger happy and close your eyes when you shoot, you wait until the birds are high enough not to endanger anyone, you take your finger off the trigger as you raise that gun, and you don't shoot unless you're positive about what you're shooting. What I'm trying to say is he is a terrible hunter, and since he shot a lawyer I bet he's plenty 'embêté' as they would say here in France, or down in New Orleans, come to think about it.
Now New Orleans, I just read, was a unmitigated disaster. Supposedly the levees were breached the day the storm hit, the Prez Knew about it and lied, saying they weren't breached until a whole day and a half later. Is it to protect his buddies in the insurance companies? Or are they planning on submitting New Orleans' candidature for the summer olympics and having a ready-made water park? I bet lots of folk wanted to swim out of New Orleans and strangle the president. He was smart not coming until a few days later. That can be a new sport - the swim, chase, and strangle. Right up there with the ski shooting.
Anyhow, one year the twins and I went to Mégève, a very lovely French ski station in the Alps. I put the twins in ski school. The teacher was an elderly man of infinite patience, who, it turned out, won the bronze medal for skiing at Squaw Valley in 1960. He also told me my son Sebi didn't listen to a word he said, and that he'd never taught a child like that. I was mortified, but he honestly didn't seem to mind. He just let Sebi do his thing (Sebi only wanted to be pointed straight down the mountain and go as fast as he could) while he took the others on their slow, curving way down the hill - and on the end of every curve he'd call Sebi, who'd point straight down and whoosh straight for the teacher, who would catch nimbly him and set him upright again, and tell him to wait. Sebi never did learn to turn, but he and the teacher got along great.
Anyhow, I love watching the olympics, and so yesterday I had the TV on while I worked, and I managed to catch the mens' downhill and see the French guy win, much to the surprise of everyone. (it's nicer when the winner is a surprise) And then I got a lot more work done during the cross-counrty ski race, (that lasts an hour and a half), since there are practically no commercials here in France. I managed to get a lot of work done because you see five minutes of cross country skiiing - you've seen it all.
I'm looking forward to the skiing and shooting race, which a journalist over at the Guardian likened to swimming a legnth of a pool, then getting out to strangle someone...That might be entertaining too, especially if the swimmer has to chase and catch his intended victim. (swimming, racing, and wrestling) But I happen to like sharp shooting, and the skiing helps me get a lot of work done while I don't watch it.
And speaking of shooting, I read that the VP of the US, Cheney, shot someone while hunting quail. Now, I don't hunt. But I grew up with a passle of hunting uncles, and my husband is an avid hunter. The VP shot someone in the face and chest, which meant he was shooting way low - birds fly in the air, folks, and unless you're trigger happy and close your eyes when you shoot, you wait until the birds are high enough not to endanger anyone, you take your finger off the trigger as you raise that gun, and you don't shoot unless you're positive about what you're shooting. What I'm trying to say is he is a terrible hunter, and since he shot a lawyer I bet he's plenty 'embêté' as they would say here in France, or down in New Orleans, come to think about it.
Now New Orleans, I just read, was a unmitigated disaster. Supposedly the levees were breached the day the storm hit, the Prez Knew about it and lied, saying they weren't breached until a whole day and a half later. Is it to protect his buddies in the insurance companies? Or are they planning on submitting New Orleans' candidature for the summer olympics and having a ready-made water park? I bet lots of folk wanted to swim out of New Orleans and strangle the president. He was smart not coming until a few days later. That can be a new sport - the swim, chase, and strangle. Right up there with the ski shooting.
Anyhow, one year the twins and I went to Mégève, a very lovely French ski station in the Alps. I put the twins in ski school. The teacher was an elderly man of infinite patience, who, it turned out, won the bronze medal for skiing at Squaw Valley in 1960. He also told me my son Sebi didn't listen to a word he said, and that he'd never taught a child like that. I was mortified, but he honestly didn't seem to mind. He just let Sebi do his thing (Sebi only wanted to be pointed straight down the mountain and go as fast as he could) while he took the others on their slow, curving way down the hill - and on the end of every curve he'd call Sebi, who'd point straight down and whoosh straight for the teacher, who would catch nimbly him and set him upright again, and tell him to wait. Sebi never did learn to turn, but he and the teacher got along great.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
The obligatory Hamster Post
My twins bugged me for years about getting hamsters, but since we had a cat I told them "no." So when the cat died (of old age) the boys and I went to the pet shop and bought hamsters. I wanted two males or two females - of course we got one of each sex. And they had little wrestling matches (delighted comments from the boys) I rushed out and bought a second cage - too late - at 6 a.m. we were woken up by Sebi screaming that "Brownie has Kittens!" And sure enough - in Brownie's cage were five tiny pink...things. Baby hamsters are Not cute in the beginning. The twins (aged 10) named the new babies (Verb, Adverb, Paragraph, Page, and Cootie.) Cootie being the runt of the litter.
My daughter, aged two, loved to play with the hamsters and would take them out of their cage. I would tell her to put them back or they'd bite. She didn't care. She got bitten a few times but it just made her stop squeezing them so hard.
One day I was vacuuming the dining room and my daughter (2 years old) came running in screaming "Stop Stop - the babies are all over!" She'd taken them out to play and left them in the dining room. Horrified I stopped the vacuum cleaner and started to look for one-inch-long baby hamsters. I found four, but not Cootie. Hands shaking, I started to take apart my vacuum cleaner, when I noticed our dog, Fudge, lying under the table licking her paws.
Eyes narrowed, I sat back and said, "Fudge, bring it over here!" Sheepishly, she got up and walked over and spit a tiny hamster out onto my outstretched hand. The hamster was a little wet (well, a lot wet) but intact and perfectly fine. I sighed and put all the babies back with their mother, and put the cage high, where my daughter couldn't reach it.
The baby hamsters all found good homes with the twins' schoolmates. (The hamsters were also invited to spend a week in my daughter's kindergarten class, where the mother hamster promptly bit the pricipal's thumb much to the children's delight.)
About a month later my daughter set the father hamster free in our garden. ("But he wanted to play in the bushes!") and the mother hamster lived on for a few more years and then died peacefully in her bed. (Hamsters only live about 3 years, so don't get too attached to them)
The twins, by then, had another hamster that they "rescued from a bunch of 'wild hamsters' in the pet shop that were picking on him" - he was the smallest hamster I've ever seen. He looked like a gray walnut with long, wild, Einstien hair. He was so weak and sickly the boys named him Kenny - after the South Park character who was always dying. Kenny didn't grow very much bigger, but he lived to a ripe old age of nearly 5 years - an amazing feat for a hamster. He was also the sweetest hamster, and never bit anyone, not even children or principals. When Kenny died, an old hamster practially all white by now and moving stiffly like an old man - he died sitting in his food dish, so it took us a while to figure out he was actually dead...we decided to give away the hamster cage and not have anymore small animals. Until my daughter wanted goldfish. But that's another story.
My daughter, aged two, loved to play with the hamsters and would take them out of their cage. I would tell her to put them back or they'd bite. She didn't care. She got bitten a few times but it just made her stop squeezing them so hard.
One day I was vacuuming the dining room and my daughter (2 years old) came running in screaming "Stop Stop - the babies are all over!" She'd taken them out to play and left them in the dining room. Horrified I stopped the vacuum cleaner and started to look for one-inch-long baby hamsters. I found four, but not Cootie. Hands shaking, I started to take apart my vacuum cleaner, when I noticed our dog, Fudge, lying under the table licking her paws.
Eyes narrowed, I sat back and said, "Fudge, bring it over here!" Sheepishly, she got up and walked over and spit a tiny hamster out onto my outstretched hand. The hamster was a little wet (well, a lot wet) but intact and perfectly fine. I sighed and put all the babies back with their mother, and put the cage high, where my daughter couldn't reach it.
The baby hamsters all found good homes with the twins' schoolmates. (The hamsters were also invited to spend a week in my daughter's kindergarten class, where the mother hamster promptly bit the pricipal's thumb much to the children's delight.)
About a month later my daughter set the father hamster free in our garden. ("But he wanted to play in the bushes!") and the mother hamster lived on for a few more years and then died peacefully in her bed. (Hamsters only live about 3 years, so don't get too attached to them)
The twins, by then, had another hamster that they "rescued from a bunch of 'wild hamsters' in the pet shop that were picking on him" - he was the smallest hamster I've ever seen. He looked like a gray walnut with long, wild, Einstien hair. He was so weak and sickly the boys named him Kenny - after the South Park character who was always dying. Kenny didn't grow very much bigger, but he lived to a ripe old age of nearly 5 years - an amazing feat for a hamster. He was also the sweetest hamster, and never bit anyone, not even children or principals. When Kenny died, an old hamster practially all white by now and moving stiffly like an old man - he died sitting in his food dish, so it took us a while to figure out he was actually dead...we decided to give away the hamster cage and not have anymore small animals. Until my daughter wanted goldfish. But that's another story.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Thirteen again
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Thirteen Things I hated about The Da Vinci Code "A book so bad it makes bad books look good." Author Salman Rushdie 1. The beginning was unbelievable, terrible, and it went downhill from there. 2. The writing was awful. Awful. Maybe a step above 'See Jane Run.' But not much above it. 3. The heroine loved her grandfather - but flipped out when she saw him during a strange ritual - and didn't speak to him for TEN YEARS and never demanded an explanation. The reason that Sophie Neveu disassociated herself from her grandfather is that she witnessed him participating in a pagan sex ritual at his home in Normandy, when she made a surprise visit there during a break from college. Well, didn't anyone tell her it was rude to drop in unnanounced?? 4. The hero didn't see the mirror image writing. That was the stupidest puzzle and he couldn't figure it out. 5. The whole plot revolved around women and their place in the Catholic church - but in the end it just fizzled. 6. The docent at Rosslyn Chapel is giving a guided tour of Rosslyn Chapel to Langdon and Neveu when he sees the rosewood box they are carrying and realizes that it seems to be an exact duplicate of a box owned by his grandmother, who is the head of the trust that oversees the chapel. He is revealed to be Sophie's brother. Brother and sister? Gag gag! 7. Trying to make St. John into a woman in the Last Supper painting was really dumb. 8. After being shot in the stomach, The grandfather (who the heorine won't speak to) uses the last minutes of his life to arrange a series of clues for his estranged granddaughter Sophie to unravel the mystery of his death and preserve the secret kept by the Priory of Sion. When you are shot in the stomach, you usually go into shock and die a painful death. 9. The plot claims that the Catholic Church has been involved in a conspiracy to cover up the true story of Jesus. This implies that the Vatican consciously knows it is living a lie, but does so to keep itself in power. But at the end of the book, nothing is ever done about this. 10. The true identity thing, the church trynig to kill the little children so they were separated at birth made me gag too. Did this guy watch too many episodes of Star Wars?? 11. Dan Brown put this in the beginning of the book: "Fact: (...) All descriptions of artwork, architecture, documents, and secret rituals in this novel are accurate." All I can say is "Bull Shit!" 12. The claim The Mona Lisa is actually a self-portrait by Leonardo as a woman made me go "Huh?" 13. The book's 'revelation' that the Holy Grail is the bloodline sprung from an apocryphal union between Jesus and Mary Magdalene which has been characterized by many textual and historical scholars as being both highly unlikely and not an original idea of Brown. I'd heard about that before. *yawn* So what? Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Kate Rothwell http://katerothwell.blogspot.com/ 2. Douglas Hoffman http://ballsandwalnuts.com/?p=40#comments 3. Jona's Thirteen http://doibloodycare.blogspot.com/2006/02/thursday-again.html |
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Renegade Aquarius
Now available!
Planetary Passions - Renegade Aquarius By Samantha Winston
In a land ruled by four kingdoms — earth, air, fire, and water —
Aquarius, crown prince to the air kingdom of Enlil, is condemned by
his birth to spend his life imprisoned in a cold, gray castle in the
clouds with an ancient scepter that some believe is cursed and
others believe is blessed.
To make things worse, once he becomes king, he is fated to die.
But he escapes and finds life, and love, in the arms of Leonie, an
acrobat from the land of fire. Air fans flames to a fever pitch, and
between Aquarius and Leonie, passion grows.
When Aquarius' identity is discovered and he's captured, he knows he
must face his destiny as King of Enlil and die. Leonie has only her
courage and a motley assortment of circus performers to save her
lover from his destiny. Magic, passion, betrayal and intrigue all
await Leonie in the ice-cold castle of Enlil, and her mission seems
doomed to failure. But an Aquarius is always more than he seems, and
this prince is no exception.
From Ellora's Cave
ISBN #1-4199-0508-2
$5.20
Buy: http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=1-4199-0508-2
Excerpt:
http://www.ellorascave.com/Excerpts/Excerpt_RenegadeAquarius.htm
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
On mud and Cartoons
It's back to rain again. The freeze is over. The floor, once again, is covered in dog footprints! I wake up and mop, mop in the afternoon, and mop in the evening. It's not only the dogs' fault. We live in the countryside and we love to go out for walks. Friends drop by. It's vacation and kids come over to play. So I keep my mop handy and chase after Auguste to clean his feet before he comes indoors. (He hates that and wiggles like a freshly caught trout) With all this rain it's not very fun to go walking and we've been watching a lot of TV, which I usually don't like, But it's vacation and the kids are Bored.
Anyway, the biggest talk here in Europe is about the cartoons. (The NY Times has an excellent article in it explaining about what happened.) 4 Months ago, a Danish newspaper printed some cartoons depicting the Islamic prophet Mohammed in different situations, most not very funny, but most politically pertinant. Nothing happened for nearly 4 months. But during that time, Danish Imans left Denmark with the drawings (and other drawings that were not published, but which the Imans felt would further inflame the situation) and they headed for several Mideastern countries not really known for their political affinity with the West. The Imans spent a long time and a lot of money, (supposedly) stirring up the Muslims about this. And what they hoped came to pass - thousands of extremists picked up the cause and began to shout.
We all know that the ones who scream the shrillest are heard the most, and the media tends to listen to the loudest shouting. The extremists are the ones shouting the loudest right now, and they are shjowing their discontent by burning buildings and threatening to kill people. And lest you are tempted to feel sorry for those insulted by the drawings, know this: The Islamics are not above publishing cartoons demonizing other religions. In other words, they can give but they cannot take. Even the moderates are being drawn towards the extremists side because there is a law in Islam that forbids any criticsm whatsoever of the prophet. I'm sure you all remember Mr. Rushdie and the death fatwah against him, and the Danish film maker who was stabbed to death because he made a film about Islamic repression of women. In other words, no one can criticise Islam.
We take free speech for granted (or at least we used to. I saw that the Rolling Stones had words censored from their songs so as not to shock the American sensibilities) And here in France we have free speech, but the law can decide whether or not free speech degenerates into hate speech - For ex. it is against the law to incite violence or hatred. And there is a thin line to walk between provocation and incitation to acts of violence. The Islamics want us to believe that simply publishing these cartoons are an invitation to violence. They actually try to make us understand why the mobs are screaming murder and burning buildings by telling us they are offended. But the truth is that No one is forcing anyone to look at the cartoons. The fact that they are offensive to some is not a reason to cry murder. But there is a positive note here. Not so long ago, the Catholic church was burning heretics, science was reason to hang, and reason was replaced by religion. But things changed. At the cost of a few brave souls. At the cost of the extremist's visions. The Catholic church was put back into its place - out of the government, out of the law. People were free to worship as they chose. The Muslims have not arrived at that place yet, but this can be the crack in the wall that finally lets moderate Muslims say what they want to. If the protests keep on, if the violence grows, it will cause the gulf between the moderates and the extremists to widen, and that can only be benefical to Islam as a whole. So while it is making headlines all over Europe, it's also opening a dialogue that is actually very interesting. In the meantime, please buy Danish produce to show your support for free speech and a free press.
Here is a great article by a true moderate to ponder:
http://www.iranian.com/Azizi/2006/February/Cartoons/index.html
Anyway, the biggest talk here in Europe is about the cartoons. (The NY Times has an excellent article in it explaining about what happened.) 4 Months ago, a Danish newspaper printed some cartoons depicting the Islamic prophet Mohammed in different situations, most not very funny, but most politically pertinant. Nothing happened for nearly 4 months. But during that time, Danish Imans left Denmark with the drawings (and other drawings that were not published, but which the Imans felt would further inflame the situation) and they headed for several Mideastern countries not really known for their political affinity with the West. The Imans spent a long time and a lot of money, (supposedly) stirring up the Muslims about this. And what they hoped came to pass - thousands of extremists picked up the cause and began to shout.
We all know that the ones who scream the shrillest are heard the most, and the media tends to listen to the loudest shouting. The extremists are the ones shouting the loudest right now, and they are shjowing their discontent by burning buildings and threatening to kill people. And lest you are tempted to feel sorry for those insulted by the drawings, know this: The Islamics are not above publishing cartoons demonizing other religions. In other words, they can give but they cannot take. Even the moderates are being drawn towards the extremists side because there is a law in Islam that forbids any criticsm whatsoever of the prophet. I'm sure you all remember Mr. Rushdie and the death fatwah against him, and the Danish film maker who was stabbed to death because he made a film about Islamic repression of women. In other words, no one can criticise Islam.
We take free speech for granted (or at least we used to. I saw that the Rolling Stones had words censored from their songs so as not to shock the American sensibilities) And here in France we have free speech, but the law can decide whether or not free speech degenerates into hate speech - For ex. it is against the law to incite violence or hatred. And there is a thin line to walk between provocation and incitation to acts of violence. The Islamics want us to believe that simply publishing these cartoons are an invitation to violence. They actually try to make us understand why the mobs are screaming murder and burning buildings by telling us they are offended. But the truth is that No one is forcing anyone to look at the cartoons. The fact that they are offensive to some is not a reason to cry murder. But there is a positive note here. Not so long ago, the Catholic church was burning heretics, science was reason to hang, and reason was replaced by religion. But things changed. At the cost of a few brave souls. At the cost of the extremist's visions. The Catholic church was put back into its place - out of the government, out of the law. People were free to worship as they chose. The Muslims have not arrived at that place yet, but this can be the crack in the wall that finally lets moderate Muslims say what they want to. If the protests keep on, if the violence grows, it will cause the gulf between the moderates and the extremists to widen, and that can only be benefical to Islam as a whole. So while it is making headlines all over Europe, it's also opening a dialogue that is actually very interesting. In the meantime, please buy Danish produce to show your support for free speech and a free press.
Here is a great article by a true moderate to ponder:
http://www.iranian.com/Azizi/2006/February/Cartoons/index.html
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Crepes!
The cold snap is easing a bit, but the weather is still gray and overcast. Today the sky was like lead, and the damp made everything shiny. But the house is cozy, and the table is set for dinner. I'm waiting for my husband to come home so he can make crepes.
Today we're having crepes for dinner. I'm not a good crepe maker. (My little brother used to called them creeps, and for some reason the name stuck.)
I can make the batter just fine - as a matter of fact, it's really easy. But I can't cook them!! I get everything ready - the half a potato in a cup of oil, fork stuck in it, to grease the pan. The bowl of batter. The ladle. Two crepe pans. A pan of steaming water with a plate on it to keep the cooked crepe warm and to keep them from getting dried out...Everything ready...and then I start to make the crepes.
The batter sticks, the crepe tears, it's cooked on one half and not cooked on the other. ARGH!
My daughter and son look on pityingly.
"Wait for dad to come home," says my daughter, after the third crepe is scraped off the pan looking like scrambled eggs.
"Argh!" I say again, determined to do it right, just one time.
"You're going to waste the batter." My son speaks in the voice of reason.
I sigh, and leave the crepe-making to my husband, who cannot cook - not one little bit - but who, for some reason, makes Excellent crepes.
So I get the table ready:
Nutella chocolate, strawberry jam, lemons, sugar, cinnamon, butter, and honey.
You have the choice - usually I put butter and honey. My hsuband likes jam, my son loves leamon and sugar, and my daughter eats them with Nutella.
The door just opened, and my husband is home -
Bon Appetite!
Today we're having crepes for dinner. I'm not a good crepe maker. (My little brother used to called them creeps, and for some reason the name stuck.)
I can make the batter just fine - as a matter of fact, it's really easy. But I can't cook them!! I get everything ready - the half a potato in a cup of oil, fork stuck in it, to grease the pan. The bowl of batter. The ladle. Two crepe pans. A pan of steaming water with a plate on it to keep the cooked crepe warm and to keep them from getting dried out...Everything ready...and then I start to make the crepes.
The batter sticks, the crepe tears, it's cooked on one half and not cooked on the other. ARGH!
My daughter and son look on pityingly.
"Wait for dad to come home," says my daughter, after the third crepe is scraped off the pan looking like scrambled eggs.
"Argh!" I say again, determined to do it right, just one time.
"You're going to waste the batter." My son speaks in the voice of reason.
I sigh, and leave the crepe-making to my husband, who cannot cook - not one little bit - but who, for some reason, makes Excellent crepes.
So I get the table ready:
Nutella chocolate, strawberry jam, lemons, sugar, cinnamon, butter, and honey.
You have the choice - usually I put butter and honey. My hsuband likes jam, my son loves leamon and sugar, and my daughter eats them with Nutella.
The door just opened, and my husband is home -
Bon Appetite!
Friday, February 03, 2006
The third method of madness
So now I've told you about plotting plot driven books and writing character driven books without an outline but with a setting. Now I'm going to talk about using a timeline to write a book. Basically it's simple - you have a story that takes place say in a week - you use the week as your outline and plot the story around that. Or you have a journey - plot the story frome the start of the voyage to the end. I did that with the book on Alexander the Great, using the timeline of his voyage through Asia along with a map that showed where his army went. The trick was to get him from point A to point B - and that was the main part of the story. Having a timeline as the structure upon which you build your story is always a good idea - even in fiction when you really haven't really thought about time. Plotting your story using the timeline also keeps it moving forward.
Complex plots can profit from using a timeline. One of my book, Virtual Murder, takes place in two worlds - the real world and the world created by the mutants. It also had three protagonists, each in their own timeline or world, and flashbacks to certain happenings. Since the story takes place in the real work in a single week, it was important to keep a timeline handy with the important actions in the book in order to keep the story together and clear.
I don't have the plotting notes for Virtual Murder anymore, but I remember they went something like this:
Monkey goes into the virtual world for three days to save Mitch.
Sally is in the real world for one day - she watches Mitch in the sending room and talks to Digby about the possibility of mutants being real.
Monkey / Mitch - three days.
Sally / Digby - One day - Tuesday
Tuesday night in New Mexico - Laurel and Carlos fall in love - they go to the desert camping and Carloes tells Laurel of his conversation with Mahler, the eldest Mutant.
Wednesday - Mitch 'wakes up' from the virtual world and goes to Dallas.
Wednesday night - Carlos goes to Dallas at Laurel's urging to try to warn Mitch.
Thursday Morning - Carlos goes back to New Mexico. Monkey meets Mitch in the real world. Mitch learns who Monkey really is.
(Etc. etc.)
This method is handy when the plot has a lot of characters, is complex, or is a historical novel. A timeline can save a lot of rewriting and trouble if you use it for most books, actually.
Good Luck!
Complex plots can profit from using a timeline. One of my book, Virtual Murder, takes place in two worlds - the real world and the world created by the mutants. It also had three protagonists, each in their own timeline or world, and flashbacks to certain happenings. Since the story takes place in the real work in a single week, it was important to keep a timeline handy with the important actions in the book in order to keep the story together and clear.
I don't have the plotting notes for Virtual Murder anymore, but I remember they went something like this:
Monkey goes into the virtual world for three days to save Mitch.
Sally is in the real world for one day - she watches Mitch in the sending room and talks to Digby about the possibility of mutants being real.
Monkey / Mitch - three days.
Sally / Digby - One day - Tuesday
Tuesday night in New Mexico - Laurel and Carlos fall in love - they go to the desert camping and Carloes tells Laurel of his conversation with Mahler, the eldest Mutant.
Wednesday - Mitch 'wakes up' from the virtual world and goes to Dallas.
Wednesday night - Carlos goes to Dallas at Laurel's urging to try to warn Mitch.
Thursday Morning - Carlos goes back to New Mexico. Monkey meets Mitch in the real world. Mitch learns who Monkey really is.
(Etc. etc.)
This method is handy when the plot has a lot of characters, is complex, or is a historical novel. A timeline can save a lot of rewriting and trouble if you use it for most books, actually.
Good Luck!
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Thursday and I've been Thirteenth(ed)
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Thirteen Things about SAM 1. I'm ambidextrous, dyslexic, and can't tell my right from my left. 2. History and politics fascinate me, as well as religion and other myths. 3. I'm really a terrific cook, but I don't know where it comes from. No one taught me how to cook, I just picked it up. 4. I have nightmares almost every night, but I've gotten used to them. I used to wake up screaming as a kid...Now I just turn on the light and sit for a minute. Sometimes I don't even have to do that. I think it's hereditary - my three kids have nightmares & two walk in their sleep. My husband, who claims he rarely dreams, thinks we're aliens. 5. I hardly ever believe anything I hear or read, I have to check and see for myself. The original doubting Thomas...It drove my parents and teachers crazy, and let's not get into what my husband thinks of that. 6. Traditions fascinate me. I love to invent traditions for the family. 7. I'm a geek. It's true. I took an online test and it told me I was mostly geek with a little nerd thrown in. The same as Bill Gates. I'm wondering if that means I can claim inheritance. 8. But I truly do believe that money is the root of all evil. 9. My family comes first in all situations. I'm like a lioness with my cubs when it comes to protecting my children. I can't understand how anyone could purposely hurt a child - the idea makes me physically sick. 10. I love to run as fast as I can on the beach, barefoot on hard sand. 11. I had two emergency cesarians and my stomach looks funny. I don't really mind because my husband told me HE doesn't mind - but sometimes I wish I had my flat stomach back. 12. I used to be a model, but I never bother about my looks except to change hair color once in a while. Otherwise I have finally gotten around to liking my freckles after 40 years of hating them. 13. Clothes and shoes don't interest me. I'd rather buy books or something good to eat. My favorite place to shop is the Thrift Shop, because I really could care less about clothing, so why spend lots of money for it? The only weakness I have is for cashmere sweaters. Thank goodness my mother gives me one for Christmas every year. I decided it had to be a TRADITION. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Kate Rothwell http://katerothwell.blogspot.com/ |
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there's more than one way to skin a cat...or write a book
When I'm in a hurry, or when I've got an idea but I'm not sure where it's going, I'll do an outline for the story, as in my last post. That could be called a plot driven book. But some books are character driven. Sometimes the characters are alive in my mind and I just start writing. That's what happened with this next book I'm working on. I had the setting and the characters, and I started writing with only the barest idea of a plot.
Here was the idea:
It’s about Jack, killed by a mutant known as the Heart Breaker. Jack's back as a Zombie to avenge his own death. The story is set in an alternate reality where mutants have come into being thanks to increased radiation from nuclear waste. It’s also a love story.
I didn't write an outline or synopsis, but I did do character sketches:
Jack: It’s strange. One day he’s dead and buried, and then a year later, on the day he was killed, he’s awake. Only he’s a zombie. Not the most attractive way to come back to life. Who brought him back to life? Why? The only inkling he has is a strange whisper in his mind… Some powerful force is leading him. And so he goes back to the club where he was killed.
Brianna: Private eye Brianna Kelsey has her work cut out for her. Her ex boyfriend, now a zombie, has hired her to find out who killed him. It’s a loser’s case; the police have been trying to find the Heart Taker for months, every lead is cold, every clue a dead-end. And Brianna has other problems—she was born under an unlucky star that tries to kill her on every possible occasion. If that’s not enough, she is still searching for that certain someone who can finally make the fireworks explode—instead of fizzle.
So I have my two protagonists and then I just started writing. I got about halfway through the book and realized I had too many POV's (I have a cast of secondary characters that needed to be kept in their place, lol) - so I went back and changed all that - making the POV's Jack's or Brianna's and cutting a lot of dead wood - in other words, parts of the story that were not carrying the two main characters towards their epiphanies.
Cast of secondary characters:
Dee: Dee’s dream has always been to own a nightclub. But all he can afford is a place where a gruesome murder happened. He changes the name and makes it into a classy strip-tease bar for women. And what better way to kick off the Halloween season but ask Jack to work for him as a stripper? He can find his killer and help Dee’s club become famous. Jack still has a fantastic body – as hard and polished as marble. For a zombie he’s hot. Plus, Dee argues, he can make up a number with his zombie scars, and use the music ‘Monster Mash’. On his first night as a stripper, Jack takes it all off, and proudly waving his cock, asks a lady “Can I dangle my dingle in your daiquiri?”
Mama Hoya: Voodoo queen from Haiti. Used to live in New Orleans before Katrina destroyed it. Now plies her trade in an abandoned warehouse. Like’s to be called m’ambo. Has a loa named Shirley who used to be a slave, and now advises Mama Hoya about who is going to die next. Mama Hoya has a useful library including a book called ‘Care and Feeding of your New Zombie body’. Jack might not have to turn green after all.
Jim and Maya Umberton: Jim is a two-hundred-year-old necromancer. What better place to work than in a morgue? His beautiful daughter Maya was killed by a mutant like the Heart Taker. He uses his powers to bring her back to life. She becomes a zombie mutant stalker. In this world, mutants are becoming more common and some are serial killers like the Heart Taker. Maya’s specialty are vampires. Armed with a stake and a black belt in tae kwando, she haunts the city’s cemeteries. Jack thinks she’s just wonderful. Too bad her heart belongs to daddy.
To make the story hold together, this books needed a setting so I had to work out a place that was very close to our world, with just a few slight differences. Magic and mutants abound, and there is a huge mutant interpol that Maya and Jim work for, and where Jack will eventually find...well, I haven't outlined the book, so I'm not telling he'll find yet, but the setting will help me keep the book focused. In this book, the setting is like another character.
However fun this book is to write - it's also taking longer because of the secondary characters, the setting, and the fact that there isn't an outline to follow - only a whisper of an idea that is pulling Jack toward his killer, Brianna into deadly danger, and Dee straight to his ruin...Unless...
If I had to choose between writing a character driven or a plot driven book, I would choose character driven. It's more fun to write, and it's more creative in some ways. However, if someone wants to write their first book, I will suggest they first start with the outline method. Writing is a very complex and yet ridiculously simple thing - and what is vital is finishing that first book. Once you have done that, the other ones will get easier and easier, and you will find the method that works best for you.
Tomorrow I'll talk about the third method I use - the timeline method - and how it can help with complex plots and historical novels.
Here was the idea:
It’s about Jack, killed by a mutant known as the Heart Breaker. Jack's back as a Zombie to avenge his own death. The story is set in an alternate reality where mutants have come into being thanks to increased radiation from nuclear waste. It’s also a love story.
I didn't write an outline or synopsis, but I did do character sketches:
Jack: It’s strange. One day he’s dead and buried, and then a year later, on the day he was killed, he’s awake. Only he’s a zombie. Not the most attractive way to come back to life. Who brought him back to life? Why? The only inkling he has is a strange whisper in his mind… Some powerful force is leading him. And so he goes back to the club where he was killed.
Brianna: Private eye Brianna Kelsey has her work cut out for her. Her ex boyfriend, now a zombie, has hired her to find out who killed him. It’s a loser’s case; the police have been trying to find the Heart Taker for months, every lead is cold, every clue a dead-end. And Brianna has other problems—she was born under an unlucky star that tries to kill her on every possible occasion. If that’s not enough, she is still searching for that certain someone who can finally make the fireworks explode—instead of fizzle.
So I have my two protagonists and then I just started writing. I got about halfway through the book and realized I had too many POV's (I have a cast of secondary characters that needed to be kept in their place, lol) - so I went back and changed all that - making the POV's Jack's or Brianna's and cutting a lot of dead wood - in other words, parts of the story that were not carrying the two main characters towards their epiphanies.
Cast of secondary characters:
Dee: Dee’s dream has always been to own a nightclub. But all he can afford is a place where a gruesome murder happened. He changes the name and makes it into a classy strip-tease bar for women. And what better way to kick off the Halloween season but ask Jack to work for him as a stripper? He can find his killer and help Dee’s club become famous. Jack still has a fantastic body – as hard and polished as marble. For a zombie he’s hot. Plus, Dee argues, he can make up a number with his zombie scars, and use the music ‘Monster Mash’. On his first night as a stripper, Jack takes it all off, and proudly waving his cock, asks a lady “Can I dangle my dingle in your daiquiri?”
Mama Hoya: Voodoo queen from Haiti. Used to live in New Orleans before Katrina destroyed it. Now plies her trade in an abandoned warehouse. Like’s to be called m’ambo. Has a loa named Shirley who used to be a slave, and now advises Mama Hoya about who is going to die next. Mama Hoya has a useful library including a book called ‘Care and Feeding of your New Zombie body’. Jack might not have to turn green after all.
Jim and Maya Umberton: Jim is a two-hundred-year-old necromancer. What better place to work than in a morgue? His beautiful daughter Maya was killed by a mutant like the Heart Taker. He uses his powers to bring her back to life. She becomes a zombie mutant stalker. In this world, mutants are becoming more common and some are serial killers like the Heart Taker. Maya’s specialty are vampires. Armed with a stake and a black belt in tae kwando, she haunts the city’s cemeteries. Jack thinks she’s just wonderful. Too bad her heart belongs to daddy.
To make the story hold together, this books needed a setting so I had to work out a place that was very close to our world, with just a few slight differences. Magic and mutants abound, and there is a huge mutant interpol that Maya and Jim work for, and where Jack will eventually find...well, I haven't outlined the book, so I'm not telling he'll find yet, but the setting will help me keep the book focused. In this book, the setting is like another character.
However fun this book is to write - it's also taking longer because of the secondary characters, the setting, and the fact that there isn't an outline to follow - only a whisper of an idea that is pulling Jack toward his killer, Brianna into deadly danger, and Dee straight to his ruin...Unless...
If I had to choose between writing a character driven or a plot driven book, I would choose character driven. It's more fun to write, and it's more creative in some ways. However, if someone wants to write their first book, I will suggest they first start with the outline method. Writing is a very complex and yet ridiculously simple thing - and what is vital is finishing that first book. Once you have done that, the other ones will get easier and easier, and you will find the method that works best for you.
Tomorrow I'll talk about the third method I use - the timeline method - and how it can help with complex plots and historical novels.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
methods to madness
My friend Andrea wants to write a book, and she was asking me how I wrote my books. (Everyone asks me that.) I usually just say, 'I sit down and write', but even though that's part of it, it's not the real answer. Andrea wanted to know why every time she started a book she ended up never finishing it, or why it sailed off on a hundred different tangents and never got off the ground. Those two complaints are the ones I hear the most - so for all you aspiring authors - those who never managed to finish a book or whose ideas got too scattered, here is my method, may it help!
First of all, I start with an idea.
I want to write a story about an ex NASCAR driver (who got in a terrible accident and is blind) and a woman, who fall in love over the phone.
That's the basic idea. I wrote it down and thought about it for a while.
Then I wrote a half page synopsis - it goes like this:
Angel: Blind NASCAR racer – lost his vision in a terrible accident and his wife dumps him. Feels sorry for himself, stays away from everyone – has phone sex to cool himself off.
Shelly: is a struggling songwriter – singer and she does waitressing and phone sex to pay her bills. She and Angel become friends.
The NASCAR association decides to honor Angel and have a big charity dinner to raise money for the blind. Angel doesn’t want to go by himself because he doesn’t want anyone to pity him, and everyone knows his wife dumped him when he couldn’t race anymore. So he asks Shelly to go to the charity ball with him. They fall in love.
Conflict:
Angel gets his eyesight back and Shelly is afraid he’ll turn into the old Angel – arrogant and haughty with everyone around him. This seems to be true when he comes into the restaurant where she works and is rude.
Angel’s ex-wife is also determined to get him back, so she mounts a seduction campaign. When he shows up at her party with Shelly, she is furious and decides to get rid of Shelly.
(That's just the rough synopsis, and hasn't got the character details or any real conflict - plot - resolution, yet.)
And then I do a chapter by chapter outline:
Chapt. 1 Angel and Shelly fall in love over the phone. (get to know Shelly and Angel)
Chapt. 2 She agrees to go with him to the charity ball where he meets a surgeon who wants to operate on his eyes. (Shelly and Angel really start to believe they have a future together. Angel doesn’t tell Shelly about the operation though. He’s too afraid it won’t work.
Chapt. 3 Angel has the operation and his sight is restored. He goes to the nearest restaurant to have a meal and he treats the waitress badly when she recognizes him by name – he thinks she’s an autograph hunter - little does he know it’s Shelly.
Chapt. 4 He goes back home and finds that his ex-wife has already heard about his operation and she wants to get back together with him. She’s sure he’s going to go back to racing, but he hasn’t decided yet.
(This is just to give me an idea of where the story is going and helps with the pacing...)
When the outline is finished, check to make sure you have the following things:
A clear beginning, middle, and ending.
A plot (this is the story - is it interesting?)
Character developement - the main characters should change in the book - I call it 'the epiphany' - it means that the main character will go through something that will bring about a change in his / her life or personality.
Conflict - what is keeping the main character from his / her goal?
Resolution - does it tie up all the loose ends? Is it satisfying?
Once the outline is finished, I start to write. Sometimes a scene will come to me from the middle or end of the book and I'll write it down while it's fresh - don't ever be afraid to write 'out of order'. You can stray from your outline - mine are usually just the framework and tend to get left behind halfway through the book. Try to have a theme while you're working - this can help. (For instance in this case I'm thinking about tolerance and overcoming a physical handicap as well as overcoming a bad reputation.)
And above all - stick to it until you've finished! Write a little every day, and when it's all done, you can say, 'I've written a book.'
Bravo!
First of all, I start with an idea.
I want to write a story about an ex NASCAR driver (who got in a terrible accident and is blind) and a woman, who fall in love over the phone.
That's the basic idea. I wrote it down and thought about it for a while.
Then I wrote a half page synopsis - it goes like this:
Angel: Blind NASCAR racer – lost his vision in a terrible accident and his wife dumps him. Feels sorry for himself, stays away from everyone – has phone sex to cool himself off.
Shelly: is a struggling songwriter – singer and she does waitressing and phone sex to pay her bills. She and Angel become friends.
The NASCAR association decides to honor Angel and have a big charity dinner to raise money for the blind. Angel doesn’t want to go by himself because he doesn’t want anyone to pity him, and everyone knows his wife dumped him when he couldn’t race anymore. So he asks Shelly to go to the charity ball with him. They fall in love.
Conflict:
Angel gets his eyesight back and Shelly is afraid he’ll turn into the old Angel – arrogant and haughty with everyone around him. This seems to be true when he comes into the restaurant where she works and is rude.
Angel’s ex-wife is also determined to get him back, so she mounts a seduction campaign. When he shows up at her party with Shelly, she is furious and decides to get rid of Shelly.
(That's just the rough synopsis, and hasn't got the character details or any real conflict - plot - resolution, yet.)
And then I do a chapter by chapter outline:
Chapt. 1 Angel and Shelly fall in love over the phone. (get to know Shelly and Angel)
Chapt. 2 She agrees to go with him to the charity ball where he meets a surgeon who wants to operate on his eyes. (Shelly and Angel really start to believe they have a future together. Angel doesn’t tell Shelly about the operation though. He’s too afraid it won’t work.
Chapt. 3 Angel has the operation and his sight is restored. He goes to the nearest restaurant to have a meal and he treats the waitress badly when she recognizes him by name – he thinks she’s an autograph hunter - little does he know it’s Shelly.
Chapt. 4 He goes back home and finds that his ex-wife has already heard about his operation and she wants to get back together with him. She’s sure he’s going to go back to racing, but he hasn’t decided yet.
(This is just to give me an idea of where the story is going and helps with the pacing...)
When the outline is finished, check to make sure you have the following things:
A clear beginning, middle, and ending.
A plot (this is the story - is it interesting?)
Character developement - the main characters should change in the book - I call it 'the epiphany' - it means that the main character will go through something that will bring about a change in his / her life or personality.
Conflict - what is keeping the main character from his / her goal?
Resolution - does it tie up all the loose ends? Is it satisfying?
Once the outline is finished, I start to write. Sometimes a scene will come to me from the middle or end of the book and I'll write it down while it's fresh - don't ever be afraid to write 'out of order'. You can stray from your outline - mine are usually just the framework and tend to get left behind halfway through the book. Try to have a theme while you're working - this can help. (For instance in this case I'm thinking about tolerance and overcoming a physical handicap as well as overcoming a bad reputation.)
And above all - stick to it until you've finished! Write a little every day, and when it's all done, you can say, 'I've written a book.'
Bravo!
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