Fisherman's Blog

I spent the entire weekend camping, often pausing to consider what the main characters in my fantasy novel would think about such a passtime.  How would my hero tackle fishing, watching a sunset, going for walks?  How would my heroine juggle cooking breakfast, grilling, socializing with the local campers?  Would they double up on an ATV?  That would be cute, romantic even.  Here are a few pics of my fun weekend.

                                         This has plenty to do with writing.  Conflict: Man against nature.

                                          See.  I battled.  I won.  No lake fish puts up a better
                                          fight than a bass.  I tossed him back.  Conflict.

                                          This one just made me smile.

                                          Nature -vs- Nature.  Or the turtle was just cute.

                                         I just couldn't resist a great pic. 


                    
                                         Stay tuned tomorrow for update on my current WIP.
                                          
                                         

Happy Friday

　

Borders emailed me a 50% off coupon, so I broke down and bought my first copy of Writer's Market today. It helps that whenever anyone buys me a gift it's usually Borders giftcards. It's the new and improved copy that offers everything from interviews to social media. It should be arriving in a few days. Then I'll see what all the rave is about and be ready to query when the time comes.

Lisa suggested the other day that I purchase a copy of Heather Sellers's book, Chapter After Chapter. After reviewing it, I was intrigued by the mention of the the Sexy Next Book. It all relates to being targeted by writing ideas and not knowing what story to pursue. I'm glad I'm not the only writer struggling with this. I'll be sure to pick up a copy soon.

Did you ever feel like you're doing something you'd really prefer not to be doing? Well, today I took the day off from the day job. I respect it. It pays the bills. It's a respectable position. Still, I'd rather be writing. So, here I am, in front of my computer, doing what I love to do. No one's here except me and the dogs.

I'll be reading 100 pages of my fantasy manuscript out loud today to make sure that it reads well and that the dialogue doesn't sound stupid. Then I'll just have 400 hundred pages of editing left before I can query on this baby. It should be fun.

Below I'm posting the poem I submitted to Rachelle Gardner's Blog, just because I thought it was funny and a good way to end the week.

Everyone have a nice weekend!

　

Letter to Agent

Dear friendly agent, I've found you at last.

It took only two years of busting my ass.

My query was nonsense, choppy at best,

something that "Query Shark" could clearly attest.

Please don't be offended that I speak from the heart.

Now that I have you, this is only the start.

I promise to follow your expert advice,

and care for my hair so I'm not struck with lice.

I'll pinch my cheeks red and keep bleaching my smile.

I'll wear lipstick to bed and fluff my do for a while.

I'll work on revisions from dusk until dawn

and discard silly pages that cause you to yawn.

Only you can decipher the words in my head.

It's no big secret; I just want to be read.

As I strive for perfection with a quill in my hand,

with you at my side I will travel the land.

If everything fails and you give me the shaft,

We can remain friends. I'll still make you laugh.

Celebrate Being You

Are you different, weird, out there? Join the club of the pleasantly eccentric. I'm the chairman, or chairwoman.

All you have to do to belong is do something unusual, something that defines you as a person.

Eat ice cream with your hands because finger-food tastes better.

Wear sunglasses at your desk because it improves the crappy lighting. I'm guilty of that one. It also helps you

pretend you're on vacation.

If the dog is running the fence line and you can't stop him, go on the other side and see which

one of you can get to the end first. Yup, me, guilty as charged. It doesn't matter what the neighbors think.

It's funny as hell.

Feel free to tell me about it because I do love peculiarities, or just keep it to yourself and celebrate being you.

Below I've attached two short videos of the latest Fun Committee event, just for kicks, just for laughs. We decided to do something different for "Cinco de Mayo," so we brought in Mexican food and made everyone play "A Minute to Win It."

This particular game is called "Junk in the Trunk." I took the liberty of recording these two gentlemen with my phone, with their consent of course. I chose them because of race and sexual orientation. These are just qualities that make them stand out in society.

I'm not biased or judgmental. There are various ways to express love, and everyone has a right and a duty to do so.

These are beautiful people who have found a place in my books. To each his own.

Eat red meat, smoke, drink...or do the exact opposite.

I was a vegetarian for two years, but had to quit when I started feeling sick. I drink red wine about

four times a year, usually to celebrate something. I abhor cigarette smoke, might have something to do with my asthma.

We are all different. What works for one might not work for another. Don't let society dictate who you are. Shout it for all the world to hear.

Okay, done rambling now. Please enjoy the videos.  Hopefully they uploaded okay.  I'll have to check them later.  They only last for a few seconds.  Have a great day! And above all, have fun.

Multi-Dimensional Characters

　

Multi-dimensional characters.

As an avid elevator stalker, I meet a lot of people. Most of them know me by name, which can prove embarrassing because I have a difficult time matching a face to a name. In order to remember these individuals if I pass them along the way, I've developed a few nicknames. Here are a few.

1) Unusual Face Guy.

He looks like Jean Claude Van Damme, banged his forehead against the garage door, wore a band aid for a week. He's stocky and gets all blushy when I say hi.

2) Elliptical Farter.

He doesn't acknowledge me in elevators, or anywhere else. One fine day, I was at the gym doing butterflies. He was on the elliptical. Believing he was safe and not counting on my excellent hearing, he let one rip. The man had obviously scarfed a large amount of burritos. Needless to say, my reps were cut short and he's bore the name ever since.

3) Old Delivery Guy.

I think his name is Seb. Nicest man in the world, has to be 90. He's chipper than I am, and that's saying much. I've found myself wondering what it would be like to meet him in heaven. Don't ask me why.

4) Aunt B.

I ran into her on Halloween. I'm not much for extremes when it comes to dressing in costumes at work, so I dressed normally, except for well-placed little horns on my head. She asked me if I was a demon. I said, "No, I'm just horny." If looks could kill. She acts as if I don't exist. The woman must have sex through a whole in the blanket. Okay, I'm being mean.

In the bright side, I would never hurt any one's feelings, so I say these things in private. If they ever read this blog, they will have no clue that I'm referring to them.

I'm posting this to illustrate the depth of individuals. We are all more than skin deep.

Maybe Unusual Face Guy coaches a softball team because, with his busy schedule, it's the only time he can spend with his daughter. He could be a stripper on the side to earn some extra cash to pay his alimony and get his daughter through college. Or perhaps he has a boyfriend, the result of his breakup with his wife.

Elliptical Farter probably has an excellent sense of humor. He just doesn't use it with me. Maybe he adores his grandchildren and is recovering from a deadly disease. The possibility of not seeing his grandkids again depresses him. Right now he hates the world, but the doctor told him the elliptical and other exercise regiments would help with his recovery.

Old Delivery Guy sits in the backyard drinking beer with his dog and texting an elderly lady he met in Phoenix at a writer's conference. She's planning on moving in with him soon. They'll be married in the fall. She reminds him of his high school sweetheart; I'm just guessing. On weekends, he visits retirement homes utilizing his dog for therapy.

Aunt B has a part time job as a prison guard. She has to be tough as nails. Any attempt at sexual innuendos has to be stopped short. She knits, makes quilts, and has an obsession for beaded bracelets. At night, she soaks in a tub and pretends to be a mermaid while burning a scented candle reeking of manly musk.

Okay, I'm playing, but I will never forget these people. I've traveled into their minds, their hearts and discovered things that excite them, move them, make them angry. That's how you form a multi-dimensional character.

The bottom line: It's not about how Johnny stepped on a rock. It's about why he did it, what he felt when he was doing it, did he have an alternate motive. Was the rock too small for him to use it to crack someone's head open. I can go on and on, but rocks are boring.

See ya tomorrow.

Venturing Outside My Norm

I'm facing a dilemma.

Last week Bryce mentioned that he'd like to possess the mindset to write YA fiction. I always believed that was out of my loop. Then Roland chimes in and suggests that I give it a try. I might surprise myself. Thank you for your words of encouragement.

Well, okay. I'm strangely attracted to experimenting. It's the way I learn, so I considered it, just for a few minutes, never anticipating the outcome.

Enter Muse...

My mind became inundated with ideas. I couldn't hold back the flow. Then came Emily (Protagonist 1). She insisted on being a part of it, gave me her first and last name, screamed it into my head. With her, she brought a twin brother (Edward). They hinted that there were spare pages taking up room in my computer. They're filled with dialogue and plot just begging to be used, and they would be perfect for this, simple to convert them to YA fantasy.

"You're kidding," I said. "I don't have time for this."

Then she threw in the conflict, a proverbial apple. I gave in. I hopped out of the shower. (It's a great place to encourage the flow of ideas.) Next thing I knew I was sitting at my PC paging through the suggested draft. I'll be darned if she wasn't right.

I had two chapters sitting there of a discarded manuscript I was saving for later use. The way I outlined it saves room for about four books if I should choose to pursue YA. I played with it. When I was done, there it was, two polished chapters of YA fantasy.

Now, there's an even bigger problem.

I'm presently editing adult fantasy to get it ready for querying. I'm also working on plot for paranormal romance. I have a day job, family, other responsibilities. My day is vivisected to fit everyone into the equation. How in the world am I going to write this other book?

I could give up sleep, but that would just botch my creativity. I could give up working out and keel over from a heart attack. I could give up sex...not an option. I could give up showering...yuk. I could write it during breaks and lunch. Nope, that would interfere with my blogging time. Someone posted that they write in ten minute increments...not sufficient for me.

I couldn't possibly let the story go, not when it's so clear in my head. I've been tinkering with the idea of designating a couple of days a week just to focus on this story. Ugh, I hate multitasking. There never seems to be enough time for anything. I can sit in front of my PC, dive into a story and suddenly it's time for bed. That only goes to show that time is another big illusion.

Until tomorrow.

Another Day for Poetry

Saturday I started the day  at 6 AM with the usual two hours of writing.  I went garage-saling to find the perfect pots for my new plants.  The day grew hotter, but still I planted.  Then I greeted the Rapture with a pint of chocolate java mash icecream in hand and visions of what tomorrow would look like dancing around in my head.  I can't help that part.  I'm a writer.  Secretly I hoped my joke proved to be true and that a huge spaceship would soar overhead.  I sat outside surrounded by plants, dogs, and hubby.  The sky clouded over, then the clouds passed up by.  A little part of me was disappointed that I didn't get to chat with aliens, but I kept that to myself and finised up the coffee icecream. 

I thought that in celebration of the new day I should post a poem from my past.  I didn't last week because I was too busy writing one up for Rachelle Gardner's blog.  So here goes.

People have always discounted and condemned what they can’t understand. My family never grasped the fact that I didn’t fit in with the rest of society when I was growing up. They often criticized everything I did and said, and most of all my devotion to all things supernatural. It was one thing to believe, but to make it a part of your life, to see God in everything so that you’re unbiased and willing to find perfection in something considered silly by others, well that was useless, insane. Nah, it’s just the mind of a writer, this writer. I do believe I wrote this one for my guardian angel.
　
　
　
I KNOW BETTER
　
A glimpse of the heavens is but a desire for man, so they tell me,
But when you angel light dances in my eyes I know better.

They say you’re not real. You’re only in my mind.
I’d be a fool to dwell on you too much,
But when you take my hand, I know better.

I’m told you are abstract. I should hold on to more tangible things.
I must be going crazy, but when you put your arms around me, I know better.

They say I’ll have a life filled with loneliness. I have so many years ahead of me,
Why waste them on you.

They scream They shout. They cry. They try to control me,
But when you spread your wings and we fly, I know better.

Live Like There's No Tomorrow

　

There's been a lot of talk lately about the end of world. Now it's supposed to start on Saturday at 12:01. The good will be sucked up into the Heavens, which means I'll be pounding my fists onto my desk. "Hell no, we won't go!"

My writing career has only just begun.

I have lived trough several of these so-called man-made phenomenons...all of them prophesizing the end. People looking for a quick fix to all of their problems will believe anything. For everyone who tells me the end is coming tomorrow, I scoff.

"Don't be silly," I say. "Tomorrow will be the first day of our alien invasion. Please do come to my party. I'll be the one on the roof holding up the sign for the aliens that reads (FREE BEER HERE)."

And the sale of science fiction novels will sky-rocket. Better get busy writing.

I try not to take things too seriously, unless they're important. I find that everything can be resolved with uninhibited laughter and do sport some lovely laugh lines to prove it. Drop all the fake stuff, just get along. Let's sit and discuss matters over a cup of coffee.

When our building was being remodelled, we were asked to name the conference rooms. I'm not one to pass up an opportunity to flex creative wings, so I submitted several ideas. One of them was seven artists, which was chosen for one of the floors. The others weren't quite so popular but served to tickle me anyway.

Seven types of laughter, such as the laugh, chuckle or chortle, guffaw or snicker, the snort and the giggle. It would have been wonderful if they had chosen this one.

I can picture the suits walking into the giggle room. The very sound of the word makes my lips twitch. Life should be simple. We over-complicate it with ridiculous extremes.

Maybe today should be about what makes us happy. For me those things are simple.

(A quiet evening spent with the hubby, 15 minutes of romping with dogs, an hour of uninterrupted writing, laughing so hard I wet my pants, dipping into a favorite brand of ice-cream, sticking my head through the sunroof so the wind can mess up my hair and hit me in the face, riding a roller coaster while someone snaps a picture of my tonsils, telling someone I love them.)

Yes, these are simple things. Some are even things a child would do. We forget how to have fun after we grow up. Maybe it would be in the worlds best interest to take a step back, forget about the nonsense, make a mudpie just because you can.  Go out and do something you haven't done in ages.

And most of all, and I can't stress this enough, just enjoy being alive.

All that will be in fine print at the bottom of the sign I'm holding up for the aliens.

Have a great weekend everyone!