Cleaning up da funk

Today boys and girls, ladies and gents, (readers peering out from the portal beyond), I have decided it’s time to get myself in order. No, I’m not dying. I’ve been in a funk.  Listing said details of why, is moot. Nobody understands (or cares) about the why anyways.

Somewhere along the way I lost sight of why I do this thing called writing. I enjoy it. I love spinning and weaving a story web (alluding to spiders WTG I hate spiders). I see or hear things and my mind just goes into another world of my making. The people are real. The things they say and do are real – if only in my mind. I guess to some that’s a crazy mind, but I do know the difference between reality and fantasy. I do. I’m truly sorry you missed seeing Pegasus land on the pier in Swampscott Harbor. It was tres’ cool the way he came out of the mist and landed on the rustic, wooden dock. A majestic sight to behold and not something you see everyday either. He came for the Hostess cupcakes, but now they're all gone…just like him. (sad, huh?) I digress.

My meandering muse and I have decided that I’m going to keep writing, even if it’s ludicrous crap that makes no sense. I live for white backgrounds and black letters. I think even some of you do to. I can jazz it up too and make it sparkle like a vampire by changing the font and color.  Oooh pretty isn’t it.

Anywho…I’ve found myself making a mess of my story, Remembrance. I was trying to make it work, and was very hard on it. So much so, that my characters shut down on me. They went into a funk. (poor things) I’m so lost with the story that I’m stuck between worlds with it and I have no idea where to go. I can’t ask another soul about it because that would just add to the chaotic hell I’m already in. One says do this, another says do that, and yet another likes it as is. So what is one to do? Who’s right, who’s wrong? Am I fooling myself here? Do I have what it takes? Am I any good? Self-doubt is reality people and it’s hard to pull yourself out of it. I was making myself crazy. I even put limits on myself and refused to write anything else if I didn’t finish the story. All that did was depress myself further. The funk was in da house.

Now it’s time to move it on out. I’m starting over - completely. I’m going to separate my two blogs. I have this one and that musical one (Rock-it-Write). Not that music needs to be separated from writing but I really do want to keep that beautiful musical lane special. Bluebird Reviews showed me a path and gave me the opportunity to combine two passions of mine: writing and music. Like my stories my musical meanderings deserve their own place and I gave them two, a blog and a website (check it out here:  Rock-it-Write), and when I write for Bluebird Reviews they get posted there as well. So here is a shout out to Bluebird Reviews for all things magically musical - Keep up the FANTASTIC work!

As for my first love it’s time to feel the passion again and write. Remembrance is a great story filled with amazing characters, but I have to let them go. Someday I’ll go back to Aiden, Tiernan, Ari, Owen, and Vaz, but right now I can’t. (Insert dagger to the heart here) It’s depressing me because I don’t know how to make them shine the way they should. I have a lot of ideas but which is the write one? I’m thinking I have to let it stew to make it better. I don’t relish (well I do and I ketchup and mustard too) the idea of re-doing this story, but it may be something I’ll have to do. Again, it’s a fantabulous story if I do say so myself. 150,000+ words is nothing to sneeze at. I don’t suck (yay), well…I tell myself that (boo).

A lot of time went into the making of Remembrance but (doncha hate that word) it’s too many words for a publisher, too many POV shifts, too many dis and dats and everything in between. Something’s wrong. I think when I took that left in Albuquerque on my way to California…that was it, that’s where I went wrong. I don’t know. And, if I don’t know what it is I’ve done, how can I fix it? Insert beta readers…but are they right or wrong? And where do you find them? Are they willing to commit to my mess? So many questions? Perhaps, I’m better off not writing but I can’t imagine not writing so there you go (double bind).


I figure before I completely trash Remembrance or make mincemeat out of it I’ll leave it alone and go write something else. I have other story ideas I’ve wanted to work on but I put them to the side to commit to Remembrance. Bad idea Stephy (ain’t that the truth muse baby). I have to listen to my own voice. Follow my gut instinct. Yada yada yada, etc. (ad nauseum) Plain and simple…I have to write.

So, how many of you know there’s a portal to Avalon smack dab in Salem Harbor? And, how many of you know how to open it? Hmmmm…I’ll give you a hint how. Tree speak, yeah that's right, tree speak. That ol Willow at the north end of the commons knows a lot. Only wish I knew that before I sent Shaelin out on that boat ride. I mean seriously, who knew, that if you went into the Astor vault in the Old Cemetery that a hidden door existed which would lead you to an underground city, and somewhere within that city was a journal and not just any journal, it holds within its pages the words (and secrets) of Avalon.   Cool huh?

#777

My friend, writer extraordinaire,  JuliPageMorgan, challenged me to #777.   What is #777 you ask? Follow the rules below (yes, there are rules) and you shall see what it's all about (it's not the hokey pokey).

RULES

1.  Go to page 77 of your current MS.

2.  Go to line 7.

3.  Copy down the next 7 lines/sentences, and post them as they’re written. No cheating.

4.  Go forth and challenge other authors (keeping in theme, preferably 7 authors).


Do you see what it's about?  Fantastic!  I knew you would.   :-)


My 777 excerpt will be from, REMEMBRANCE.   Enjoy!



********************************   777 EXCERPT    **************************

“What are you looking for?”

“The key. I had it right…”

“Are you bloody serious?” Tiernan exclaimed, a look of shock sat on his face.  He looked again at the ramshackle cottage then laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Aiden dug the skeleton key out of his jacket pocket and watched Tiernan laugh hysterically.  After a moment he asked, “Are you quite through?”

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Tiernan got his laughter under control then looked at Aiden and chuckled, "Who the hell would lock this place up?

The Gauntlet Challenge

So I cuffed the gauntlet across the Facebook profiles of Debi and Juli. Writers extraordinaire.  Don’t believe me, go take a look at their blogs: The Pen Whore and Pages. Awesome stuff right there huh?


I think they’re both amazing writers - very talented indeed. But like me, and probably other writers, I think we need fires bonfires (burn baby burn) lit under our keesters to get us going; hence the heavy-handed gauntlet thwacking that made some eyes roll backwards right into their heads. (Juli take note)


What it is, and what it all boils down to is this…c’mon people say the word with me - procrastination. That’s the fancy pant, ten cent word for laziness. Yeah, I said it. Laziness. Admit it – we all go there. We languish in Lake Lethargy, hoping it will take us to the Ocean of Oomph. We all make excuses. Hell, I’m the Queen of it. All hail Queen Procrastination of Fiction Land - bow down and bring me chocolates (Lindt dark chocolate truffles please).


It’s not that I don’t have good intentions. I do! (Really, I do.) Every day I start out with a “To Do” list, and writing is on it, I swear. I just don’t know what happens – well, I do but I really don’t want to admit that I’m a Facebook junkie and that I’ve been reading more than I’ve been writing. Time just slips away. One minute I’m thinking, ok I’ll finish this and then I’ll start editing (or writing) and next thing you know, bob’s yer uncle and it’s time for bed. I dunno people…I’m trying.


I said to myself that I would finish editing two books before the first of the year then I would begin a new story, or finish one of the other ones. And now I sit here in worse shape than I ever was. I’m a round shape, and I’m not liking it at all, not one bit. I need to slenderize (in more ways than one). To do this I need to bring in my critters, my pack, mi amigos – my friends.

Let’s face it, only friends are allowed to crit you, by rolling their eyes, throwing up their hands (you like that one huh Juli), and only they can get away with it. They will keep you on the straight and narrow, or sit in the same boat on Lake Lethargy yelling, “Where’s the rum?”

First up, I must fix my blog. I have two blogs one for my writing and the other is for music meanderings. I need to separate them, and I have. (Yay me!)  Second thing, I need to post blogs. Yeah, post a blog Steph - HA! (Ummm, that was my muse being sarcastic-don’t mind her) Post blogs? That means - gasp - I have to write. Hahahahaha snicker chortle guffaw hahahaha (my muse laughing)

I found that I do better when challenged. (Seriously, I do) When I’m forced to produce something…anything, it appears I can actually write. Now that’s where mi amigo’s come in. I need to get them off Lake Lethargy and out of the boat (leaving the rum behind). We all need to swim in the Ocean of Oomph and be revitalized. But how? Well, I grabbed a gauntlet from a medieval page and thwacked Juli and Debi for starters. I am sure in turn they will thwack others and soon we’ll be a pack of bitches chucking a mean wallop at each other, hoping to win the Gauntlet Challenge. I so want to win…to have such amazing bragging rights.

Yeah, Queen Procrastination of Fiction Land wants bragging rights – she’s due.



**  This particular post is part of the Writer's Gauntlet Challenge among my crit group, an exercise to keep us writing, thinking and being creative. Other Gauntlet entries can be found at The Pen Whore and Pages.

250 Words Please

K.T. Crowley is doing a 250 word test run of various works of writing. I entered the first 250 words of Maine-ac, a horror story that I am working on. Go on over and check it out - critique some great stories.

Made of Awesome Contest

Shelley Watters' blog, Is It Hot in Here Or Is It This Book?, is hosting an awesome contest which is going on right now.

My 1st page (250 words) for SEREN'S ANGEL is below. A big THANK YOU in advance for all comments and crits. GOOD LUCK to everyone!!!

TITLE: SEREN'S ANGEL
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
WORD COUNT: 85,000


Emma had always loved coming here. It was her refuge in a crazy world that couldn’t seem to accept her. Nobody judged or criticized her here. This place understood her. How many times had she ducked under the branches of the weeping willows as she wandered along the waters edge of the man-made lake? Lost in thoughts and daydreams she had traversed the many small paved roads, stopping every now and again to smell the flowers that had been planted along the paths.

With her back against the tree trunk Emma pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned her head against the tree. This used to be her place of solace; the quietness always stilled her mind. Not today. A heavy sadness filled her as her gaze took in the marbleized stones, granite monoliths and cement crosses. Lakeside Cemetery used to be beautiful, but not anymore. Nothing would ever be beautiful in her world again.

“Momma, are you here?” A soft wind blew, gently caressing her face. “I warned you. Why didn’t you listen?” Burying her head into her hands she whispered as the tears fell. “I need you momma. I can’t take it anymore.” Emma felt the wind lift her hair. She looked around and saw the shadows then she heard their whispers. She ignored them. All was dark in her world, now that momma was gone. There was no happy light left in her anymore and she couldn’t help them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FINAL ENTRY, after edits made

TITLE: SEREN'S ANGEL
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
WC: 61,000 (will be closer to 81,000 after more edits)

Emma had always loved coming here. It was her refuge in a crazy world that couldn’t seem to accept her. How many times had she ducked under the branches of the weeping willows as she wandered along the waters edge of the man-made lake? Lost in thoughts and daydreams she had traversed the many small paved roads stopping here and there to smell the pretty flowers. This place understood her.

With her back against the tree trunk Emma pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and leaned her head against the rough bark. This had been a place of solace; its quietness stilling her mind. Emma’s gaze took in the marbleized stones, granite monoliths and cement crosses. Lakeside Cemetery used to be beautiful, but not anymore. Nothing would ever be beautiful in her world again.

“Momma, are you here?” A soft wind blew, gently caressing her face. “I warned you. Why didn’t you listen?” Burying her head into her hands she whispered as the tears fell. “I need you Momma. I can’t take it anymore.” Emma felt the wind lift her hair. She looked around and saw the shadows then heard their whispers. She ignored them. All was dark in her world now that momma was gone. There was no happy light left in her anymore and she couldn’t help them. Emma sniffed. I can’t even help myself.

Emma swiped the tears from her face on her sleeve then stared at the small, granite heart that marked her mother’s new home.

Contest Entry

Shelley Watters' blog, Is It Hot in Here Or Is It This Book?, is hosting an amazing contest which is going on right now.

My twitter pitch/logline for REMEMBRANCE is below. A big THANK YOU in advance for all comments and crits. GOOD LUCK to everyone!!!

TITLE: REMEMBRANCE
GENRE: Paranormal

Three witches are reunited by magic and reincarnation, however their future is in the hands of fate, and the sinister man out to kill them.

POST NOTE: I was worried about "the future in the hands of fate..." being kind of cliche as well, after seeing some of the feedback from this morning, I've created a new pitch that hopefully gives more.

NEW PITCH:

Reunited by magic and reincarnation three witches must remember the past to save their futures from a sinister man hell-bent on vengeance.


FINAL PITCH:

Reunited by magic and reincarnation, three witches must rediscover the past to save their future from a sinister man hell-bent on vengeance.

Fear

“Never fear shadows. They simply mean there's a light shining somewhere nearby.” ~ Ruth E. Renkel


“Never fear shadows.” Hmmm, I’ve always kind of believed that (or I tell myself that anyways). In the darkest of hours I’ve always been able to find a shimmer of light; whether internally or externally, I can push the fear away, find the light and smile. Cool, right? So I ponder, do I have any fears? Well yeah I think we all do but what's the worst one. No, it's not my fear of heights. For me, I think it's my writing. How can it be my writing, as I’m writing right now? Well, it has to be that, it appears I have an aversion to editing and use any excuse for finishing my novels.

In my writing closet there are skeletons, ghosts, goblins, creatures, spirits and banshee’s; a cast of a thousand characters, and they are all tied, unequivocally, together with the writing process. From the very first creative spark, to actual writing, finding the muse, time allotment, chapter breakthroughs, editing, query letters, log lines, etc… It’s all the same. My muse is a banshee (sometimes), characters are ghosts, and I do like them, I don’t fear them or that part of the writing process. I do know how to find the light in the proverbial dark writing closet.

So what’s the fear? The fear is simply this - I don’t like the unknowable, the unexplained things that go bump in the night. Basically, I fear the resultant end; after I've typed finis and know I have to do edits and query. Shadows come in.

Fear is defined as: 1. a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. 2. a specific instance of or propensity for such a feeling: an abnormal fear of heights. 3. that which causes a feeling of being afraid; that of which a person is afraid 4. to regard with fear 5. to experience fear in (oneself).

For me, writing starts with that first “what if” moment – this is the brainstorm that starts the whole catalyst going. There are also “what if” moments in between – during the writing process where I realize the story is taking another direction but it’s all good. Then you reach the end and a whole new cast of “what if’s” come into play – these are the moments that I fear.


Every thought you think is contributing to the true power of love, or the illusion of fear. Choose your thoughts consciously and wisely. - Dorothy Mendoza Row


What if no one likes it? What if it's not any good? What if it truly bombs and I just wasted months on this for no reason? What if no one (agent/publisher) wants it? What if the agent/publisher thinks it's a pile of horse manure? So many what ifs... I think we creative folk are our own worst enemy. We believe no one. I mean “what if” they (beta readers) are just saying it’s good to be nice. What if they just don’t want to hurt my feelings.

My feared, lurking shadows are the nasty "what if's". It is because of these dark shadows that I sit with two books unedited, a third WIP started and two story ideas nestled and waiting for their time to shine. These creative sparks are my light - I know it. I judge myself to harshly and I shouldn’t. I should believe in myself more, in my light, and my right to shine. I am deserving. I am great. The fear rises up and I do battle with it. I believe in myself and my writing. Never fear the shadows I say.

There is never a need to fear the darkness, when you know the power of your own light. - Dorothy Mendoza Row