Did you keep any of your resolutions?

So, I found my list of 2009 New Years resolutions. Let's see how many I achieved.


1. Get book published. 


Nope. Not quite. I'm working on that though. I have a query done and ready to be sent out after the first of the year, and I'm nearly finished with FURY's final editing phase. So, can I get half-credit?

2. Finish writing another book...or two.


Yay! I did this one. The Dragon Queen is finished. Too bad I couldn't manage more than one. :(


3. Exercise at least 3 times per week.


Um. Whoops.

4. Eat healthier - less sugar.


This week I've totally demolished that.

5. Only one soda a day at MAX.


Woohoo! Another one I've basically achieved. Ever since I got sick with a stomach virus, soda doesn't really agree with me. So... that worked out. :)

6. Move out of my parents house as soon as possible!


Mission accomplished.

7. Join a club or volunteer.


Whoops. Another one that slipped my mind.

8. Take a class (yoga, kickboxing, photography...)


No money to do this.

9. Improve (and create new) relationships.


New friends! And not just online friends, either. Yippee! (Plus, I'm still involved with the same wonderful boyfriend, so that counts.)

10. Do something fun and outgoing at least once a month.


Uh...this is sort of hit and miss. But I really TRIED on this one, ok?

11. Stop forgetting that I'm supposed to top my own list!


Har. Har. Yeah. Forgot about this one, too. Though I think I did better than last year.


Hmm. With all this in mind, now I have to construct a new list. Number 1 and 11 will probably be on next year's. Likely number 2 as well. So, how many resolutions did you (almost) keep?

Movie Time: District 9

I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas, and, on that note, let's have some bloody, gory, alien slaughtering, mmkay?

I watched District 9 last night. Now, the first thing that struck me about this movie (besides the creepy-crawly look of the aliens) was the documentary feel of it. Combine that with the location (Johannesburg, South Africa) and I knew exactly what the message of this movie was going to be about. (My boyfriend, who has not taken a course in African Lit, did not.)

But first, the summary. Basically, an alien ship hovers above Johannesburg, South Africa. Humans go in after months of inactivity and find an alien race. It's obvious that these aliens must be a caste of workers, for they lack leadership skills of any kind. Soon, they become more of a nuisance than a novelty and the humans want them moved from their slum-like dwellings in District 9, to a new, far away District 10.

Wikus, an Multi-National United employee, is charged with evicting the aliens, but is really there to confiscate alien weaponry. During the process, he discovers a cylindrical object which, after he tampers with it, squirts him in the face with a black liquid. Wikus becomes very ill and then finds that his arm has mutated to resemble a prawns. MNU then forces him to test alien weaponry, which has thus far been unresponsive to humans. With his new, combined DNA he is able to operate the weaponry. After several successful trials, MNU decides that his DNA is extremely valuable and decides to donate his body to the cause. (I thought it was hilarious that his father-in-law is one of the head honchos at MNU and makes that decision.) Wikus escapes and hides in District 9.

There he encounters Christopher Johnson, the alien responsible for creating the cylinder. Wikus learns that the only hope he has of reverting to his human form is to retrieve the cylinder (which contains an alien fuel) from MNU. Johnson reluctantly agrees to help Wikus and promises to help him get back to his human self.

You'd think it would be predictable from that point on, wouldn't you? Alien and human form a friendship that defies the social norm, but Wikus isn't as admirable a hero as that. He's in it for himself to the point where he abandons Christopher to MNU soldiers and steals Christopher's ship. Which, you must admit, is a heck of a lot more realistic considering the attitude toward Prawns.

My boyfriend wanted to shut this movie off about halfway through. Admittedly, it is slow. There are parts that are downright crude or nonsensical, but I still wanted to watch. Because if you know anything of South Africa's racial problems, then this had a deeper meaning than just grotesque aliens and bloody battles. And Wikus, the supposed hero, demonstrates this with a blase attitude, which speaks more than any true documentary could.

Would I recommend watching this? Yes. But, in order to enjoy it, you're going to have to look beyond the limb-severing and lewd commentary (unless that's what you're into), because the message to this movies lies beneath the sci-fi action and battles, and should be transported to real life.

Memorable Quotation:

Automated MNU Instructional Voice: [in MNU Humvee] When dealing with aliens, try to be polite, but firm. And always remember that a smile is cheaper than a bullet. 

Remodeling

I've had a rotten attitude lately. I have tried (likely unsuccessfully) to hide it. But I've never been a good pretender, so I've let the mean, the nasty and the jealous take over my writing life. Result: major unhappiness and crappy writing.

So, I'm remodeling myself and this blog. I'm going to take a more positive approach on my writing and the writing of others, and smile through this downturn. I'm going to be optimistic. Woo!

I'm not even going to wait for the new year. I shall begin now. And, on that note, happy remodeling, everyone. :)

Interference!

Not been able to write or edit much lately. Due to, well, life. I know. It's a pesky little thing, isn't it?

Fury is coming along slowly--and in a completely different direction. The ending has changed, and since I've given it free reign to be a romance novel, all those elements want to come to the forefront. But this novel is like a carefully made lasagna. Layers after layers of yummy goodness (har.har.) that begs every brain cell possible. This is not a story I can write without actually THINKING. Which is probably why it irritates me so much. I don't really like to think a lot.

Last night I went to bed musing on a different first chapter for Dragon Queen. Something with a little more oomph. No worries, it shouldn't change the story much if at all.

I've also been eyeballing Last of the Elves. It's about time I kept my promise to a dearly departed friend and write the damn book and dedicate it to her.

But, in the meantime, there is life. When it stops being so clingy (har.har.), I'll get back into my writing groove.

Eating Worms

I've always struggled with an extremely low self-esteem. It can be attributed to a number of things, but I try not to dwell on it. Still, I have a very big voice in my head that's constantly muttering "You can't do that," "No one likes you," "Everyone hates your story," "Go eat worms," blah blah blah.

When the voice starts screaming at me, I often have to take a break. Usually from reality. So, I'll immerse myself in a novel (someone else's, not mine) or play mindless computer games, trying to drown out that voice with someone else's.

Right now, the voice is screaming. It tends to do that a lot when I'm working on FURY. I don't know if it's trying to warn me that it's a worthless novel and to move on, or if it's just me being stupid. What I hate is that the writer can't shut out the voice to look at it objectively. Part of me will always think it's a story worth telling, while another part of me will always think it's a load of crap. And you know what the saddest part is? I don't have this kind of struggle with Dragon Queen. It's possible that is because Dragon Queen was written more for fun. I enjoyed the process and the story. Jade was so easy to write--perhaps because she was the lighter side of my writing ability (or disability). Fury and Caden are difficult. At times, I even dislike them. Which is strange--because a writer should never dislike her characters, right? (With maybe the exception of the villains.)

Sigh. Oh well. I shall forge ahead.

New Ideas

Ideas are germinating. Begging for attention. Actually, demanding might be a better word. However, I have no zeal to pursue them. I am in the writer dumps. And I'm overly emotional and sensitive. I shall refrain from going into too much detail, as I'm sure some people will start backing away slowly, but let it suffice that I am at that point where I think everything I'm working on is crap.

You're a writer? Then, yes, you've been there, done that.

Sigh. I must trudge on! Rawr.

A little bit of an update

I'm exhausted today. Winter decided to sweep in and give us temperatures in the teens, which causes my legs to ache. So, I'm in pain. Combining those two makes for a very cruddy mood.

Dragon Queen is done, but it is already petulantly demanding my attention for revisions. (No, damn it! Go play by yourself for a while!)

Fury has reached an uncomfortable point for me, and so I'm struggling with it. Since I've rearranged the ending, the reunion with her father is coming up sooner (and differently). Shadow is not a nice person, but he's redeemable . . .but since I recently got back in contact with MY father, that experience is trying to manifest on the story WHICH IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! You hear me? ::mutters::

This weekend will be completely manuscript free, however. I'm heading up to Missouri to visit my aunt and uncle. I haven't seen them since my uncle was in a motorcycle wreck and broke his neck. Now he is paralyzed from the neck down, but he has regained some mobility in his legs and arms. (Thank God). The doctors say he might be able to walk again one day. So, if you haven't guessed, I'm getting all emotional about it.

It also means that Jake will be left alone with Gyspy (my chihuahua). Which is fine, but since he claims he's going hunting most of the weekend, that means she'll be ALONE for the majority of the time. And penned up. So when I get home she will probably go into convulsions of excitement and destroy whatever pair of shoes I'm wearing at the time. LOL.

::sigh:: I'm just too tired to even think about it anymore.

Squee!

I'm done! I have just finished The Dragon Queen. I. AM. DONE. (with the first draft) And only one day after my goal. Can I get a "Woohoo!"?

Now, I get to set it aside and focus on Fury. Yay! HAPPY DANCE!

Immortal Love

Since I've finally admitted that I just might be a romance writer, I've been thinking a lot about love lately. But not the beginning of love--the part of the emotion that is so focused on in most novels--but the end.

Does love really end? Or is that phrase “I don’t love you anymore” a lie? Because, once we’ve started, can we really stop loving someone?

If you look at this world--all the divorces and breakups--you can easily answer yes. But I think there is more to it than that final good-bye. Love, no matter how we fight it, lingers. And you find yourself thinking about that person. Wondering what they are doing and how they are getting on.

Yes, you can stop loving someone. But not in a day. Or a month. Maybe not even a year. Because it takes a lot to kill love. Unlike falling in love--which can happen suddenly and unexpectedly--denying love takes work. Because love does not go away on its own. It has to be driven away. Whether by cruelty, indifference or a replacement. And it walks away, slowly, never running, always looking back with a question in its eyes. “Are you sure you want me to leave?”

People who disagree--well, you're fascinating. It must be lovely to walk away from love without regret or remorse. To blithely walk away from that person whom you proclaimed was your everything. I've done it, and I cannot describe the pain. A necessary agony, yes, but one that I never want to go through again.

This question of how love fades--either quickly or slowly--intrigues me. It makes me wonder if others can get over it faster than some. How tenacious is it?

I know that love has a different face for each person. It can be a mind-consuming inferno or a slow burn, but, either way, it affects you.

I've been thinking about writing a short story, perhaps an allegory, on the issue of how to fall out of love. There's a wiki-how on it (which, if you're looking to stay in love with someone, you should probably glance at as well and make sure you DON'T do those things). Hmm. The ideas are swirling. (And, if you've guessed, it probably will be a sad story.)

Pieces

“Pieces”

I find you sometimes

In a book I’ve read

That certain flavor of bubblegum

A lemon’s zing

You lurk in corners

So easy to forget, to misplace

But I find you at the bottom of my purse

In that perfect shade of lipstick

The broken compact

A crumpled receipt with “Hello” scribbled on the back

I often find you

In the shower’s steam

Drawing hearts and funny faces

In the fogged glass

The smell of shampoo

The scrape of a razor and its silken aftermath

You hide in closets, shelves, drawers

Just waiting for me to find you

A picture taken long ago

That same face, fuller, rounder

Pink with sunburn

Smiling

For a moment, I have you

And then you slip away

Sometimes I find you

In the eyes of someone else

Blue-green, so different

But it’s enough to make me believe

I can finally hold you forever

Slowly, you fade

I hardly realize you’re gone

Until I start finding the pieces again

A mermaid’s fins

A strand of pearls, a coffee cup

And I’m left standing in the middle of some room

Some place

With the certainty that something’s missing

OMG! I might actually meet one of my goals!

OMG!

I am on Dragon Queen's Epilogue.

Yes, you read that correctly. Just a few more pages of writing brilliance and I shall be done. D.O.N.E. Let the accolades ensue.

Sci-Fi is becoming fashionable?

Not sure if we're on the same boat, but my fashion choices growing up were a little... questionable? I like things that looked like they were from another era. Not the 60s or whatever, but more like renaissance or fairytale land. When those glittery ballerina flats came out, I was on cloud nine.

Well, apparently sci-fi/fantasy is becoming a prime focus for the fashion world now. Most likely due to the influx of sci-fi/fantasy movies. (Star Trek, Avatar, Lord of the Rings, etc.) And Victoria's Secret is taking its cue.

Behold: Angels with less than feathery wings .

Yay, dorks like me can finally be sexy!

Off-Kilter

Yesterday was a good day. Like usual, it started sagging around 3 p.m. (that two hour itch to go home), but nothing dastardly.

And then I clocked out to go home, stepped out into the blustery dark, and stopped.

Some inconsiderate a-hole had effectively prevented me from opening my driver's side door by parking a total of FOUR inches away. How they managed to do that without taking out my mirror, I have no idea. True a-holeness apparently takes talent.

What do I do?

Write a thank you note. After all, who wouldn't be grateful to be the recipient of such ignorance?

"Dear Corolla Owner,

"Thank you for your invitation to key your car. Your offer was most tempting, but I must unfortunately decline.

"And I must say that I am flattered that you think me so svelte that I can squeeze through the four-inch gap you left between my car and yours.

"Thank you for reminding me just how limber I am. It's been years since I've had to maneuver from the passenger's side to the driver's side in a compact car's interior. I stretched muscles I forgot I had. And I managed not to break an ankle, despite wearing high heels.

"And THANK YOU for having such confidence in my driving skills. I never knew I was so talented as to be able to get out of my parking space without knocking off your mirror or hitting the side of your car, which was so conveniently parked at an angle that overlapped my space. Fortunately for both of us, I could have been a stunt car driver.

"Have a wonderful night, you sweet, inconsiderate idiot. People like you make me wonder why I was ever worried about passing my driver's test."

::SIGH::

The sad thing is, I'm not exaggerating in the least. If I ever find out who drives that Corolla... let's just say what goes around comes around.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving is on its way (haven't you heard?). And it's got me musing on what I'm thankful for. Call me cheesy if you will, but I've always encouraged the tradition of sitting around a laden table and taking turns on expressing what you're grateful for. My stepdad, however, makes this a lot less sentimental than it could be with his inexpressive grunts when it's his turn.

But I've had a lot of wonderful things happen to me lately, so I wanted to express my thankfulness for the following (in no particular order):

1. I have a job. Maybe not a fantastic job, but I work with interesting people and interesting topics. I'm able to pay my bills.

2. My pets. There is nothing better than the unconditional love of an animal. And now I have a new addition to my little family. A chihuahua named Gyspy. She's sweet and ornery, but very lovable. And I can't forget my cat--who's only a couple pounds away from being a small tiger--Zorro. I also have a fish, Marco Polo, who would like to eat my fingers one day...but he's still so pretty that I'll forgive him.

3. My boyfriend. For the first time in my life, I have found someone who loves me without restraint or selfishness. Who asks nothing of me, and yet gives all. He is, by far, the best thing in my life.

4. My family. Not just the one I have supplemented with animals, but my mother, my brother, my stepdad, Brian, (despite his noncommittal grunts) and my dad. A family's love and support is something that I'm always grateful for. Even when the world turns its back on you, they have their arms open.

5. My friends, both the ones that live near me and the ones that I have met online (namely, my writer friends) for offering their support and guidance.

6. My talents. Even when I feel less than lackluster about my abilities, I am always grateful for them. I'm grateful that the things that give me joy are things that come naturally to me--and that they are talents I can share with others.

7. God. Though I am not religious, I still feel an affinity for the Creator, and even when I feel resentful and distant, I still look to Him. And it is to Him that I give thanks for the gifts He has given me.

There are many more things that can go on this list. Small moments. Huge triumphs. But these are the things that I am grateful for every day.

What are you thankful for?

Tuesday's Tip #3: Have Fun!

Making the writing process fun doesn't sound like much of a tip, does it? But, honestly, when you're striving so hard to make your story perfect, the word "fun" can slip out of your vocabulary. And soon the story you loved has become a hated waste of time.

Here are some tips to make your writing fun:

1. Introduce a man with a gun. 

(Yes, you might have heard this before.) When you're in a rut, sometimes you have to make something unexpected happen. Whether that is a man with a gun, a long lost friend, an earthquake or whatever--and then see how your characters handle it.

2. Don't take yourself (or your writing) too seriously.

One of my common blunders is when I start thinking of my writing as a job. Sure, it's a job I love, but it's still a JOB. And I don't necessarily like to WORK. If it ever gets to this point, I try to take a step back and just look at the story and the characters. I try to immerse myself in the EMOTION of the book, not the structure/grammar/spelling/etc.

3. Let your characters be themselves.

If one of your characters does something spontaneous, let it happen. Let them breathe on the page. And just go with it. In my experience, some of my best scenes are ones that I didn't mean to happen. It's also a great way to reconnect with your characters.

4. Step away.

Sometimes the best thing to do is to leave your work alone for a while. Whether that be twenty minutes or a day or a week or a month. When you come back to it, you will have fresh eyes and a fresh heart. This is perhaps the hardest thing to do (especially when you're highly frustrated) but it really helps you see things clearer.

And my last tip is ...

Remind yourself what it is about writing you love. Read a favorite book or poem. Watch a movie with an excellent storyline. Talk to someone about your story. Even if you start off unenthusiastic, you will soon remember things that will inspire you to write more.

I Surrender!

I give up. I'm waving the white flag! And I'm admitting defeat.

FURY is a romance.

Let me repeat that: FURY is a romance. Not a romantic fantasy, but a ROMANCE in a fantasy setting.

Crap-ola.

I've fought it and fought it. But FURY is meaner and more tenacious than I. So I have thrown in the towel, hung up the gloves, and scraped at its proverbial feet. You, oh masterful manuscript (which is up to interpretation), have won. You've gotten your way.

Happy now?

Probably not. But you're just like your namesake, aren't you? (And, yes, I have spewed cliches all over the place...that's how upset I am.)

Tuesday's Tip: It's All in the Details

The secret to a strong, memorable character is details.

Details. Details. Details. And, oh yeah, details.

Not sure how many of you out there are fans of romance, but, even if you’re not, I’m sure you’ve stumbled across what you would call the “cookie-cutter” hero and heroine. They are, of course, beautiful and desirable. Often, the woman is a tad silly or naïve, but she still manages to snag the hero’s heart. Right? Same old. Same old. And boring.

Now, let’s say you have the same story. Let’s say it’s a romance, so the people have to be attractive. Let’s even go so far as to say the heroine is blond and blue-eyed with excellent proportions. (Getting ready to roll your eyes yet?) How do you keep heroine (let’s call her Josie) from being just like all those other beautiful, well-endowed corset-wearing divas?

Details.

First off, let’s take some of the perfection away from Ms. Josie. She has a small gap between her two front teeth. And maybe she has freckles. Also, let’s make her have an annoying tendency to bite her nails when she’s nervous, so she never sports the perfect manicure.

Are you still with me?

Now, let’s give her more surprises. Josie has a Ph.D. in philosophy and a black belt in karate. She volunteers at the local homeless shelter. She has a fanatic adoration of cats and believes that she one day might be a crazy cat lady unless she meets Mr. Right or Mr. Allergic to Cats.

She thinks she has a big butt. She falls for a guy for all the wrong reasons, and has even been called “easy”, but she’ll punch you in the face if you call her a slut. She’s shy, but comes off as stuck-up. Her mom is her superhero. Her dad is in prison. She has a brother named Pete who just confessed that he is gay. She is the only member of the family who still talks to him.

Now, put that character in your traditional love story. She’s not going to be one of those stereotypical heroines is she? Which will also make your story less than stereotypical.

Rounding out your characters with information, even information that will have no place in your story, makes them come alive on the page. Not only for you, but for your reader. Keeping a list of details about your character will also help you decide what her reaction would be to certain events. And, if you give your character room to grow, she can lead you to some surprises.

Out With The Old

Have you noticed the new bend of fantasy covers lately?

Let me just give you an example, via my favorite author:

It would appear that some authors are abandoning what you would call the "traditional" fantasy cover (i.e. illustrated characters, elaborate backgrounds) for a sleeker, more contemporary look.

If this trend catches on, it will definitely change the face of sci-fi and fantasy. The people that were once put off by cheesy illustrations will now have minimalist covers to peruse. Believe what you will, but the idiom "Never judge a book by its cover" is not something a book-shopper keeps in mind. Covers are like wrapping paper. The more attractive, the more we're intrigued about what's inside. And these new covers definitely have me intrigued.

It's a pet peeve of mine to have characters depicted on the cover anyway, especially when they look nothing like what I would imagine once I've dived into the text. But this new look...I think I can handle it.

What are your thoughts?

Stretching [Writer] Muscles

Last night after a strenuous round of Dance Dance Revolution, I was sitting splay-legged on the floor and was like "Gawrsh, this hurts." My feet were approximately four feet apart. Even I can admit that's pathetic. I used to be able to kick so high that I could touch my knee to my forehead (without bending forward). Granted, I'm no longer in high school, but still... it got me thinking of other things that need to be stretched.

Not only have I neglected my physical muscles but I think I've neglected my writer muscles, too. I have been so focused on DRAGON QUEEN and FURY that I haven't even thought about a new novel. Now, I know that DQ isn't finished, but it's almost finished, so I should be bouncing around ideas, right?

So, I did.

And I came up with something weird.

A mainstream novel. That, of course, quickly morphed into a paranormal novel. But, still, I haven't thought about writing a paranormal novel (especially when there are so many out there). But I was... intrigued. Like most of my novels, it started from a title (admittedly a weak title, but...). Anyway, the title was Soul Pieces.

However, since ideas aren't protected by copyright, I'll keep the rest to myself.

But this got me motivated to finish DQ by the end of this month, as well as (GASP) finish editing FURY. And then (yes, my friends, this is TRUE) send out query letters. So what does that mean? By the end of this month I will be A) exhausted and B) suffering from a constant stomachache--which is what I do when I'm severely anxious.

I guess I'd better get crackin'. Wish me luck!

Tuesday's Tip: Repeating Beats...er, Sentences

Last time I compared sentences to music. Each sentence has a specific rhythm/beat, and when those rhythms are repeated too often, the story, despite its content, can seem monotonous.

However, repeated rhythms have their uses.

For example, when the author/narrator wants to draw attention to something specific--whether it be a moment, an emotion, or an action--a repeated beat can express that desire.

She stood at the edge of the practice ring, sword in hand. She watched. She waited. She learned.


The most common example of repeating beats is done in threes. It's also called parallelism. It can also be done in a single sentence.

Maria liked the dewy mornings, the misty mountains, and the foggy grove.


Notice how each direct object has a certain number of beats? The result is that the sentence reads like a line of poetry, with a certain pace and emphasis. If you had the desire, you could even point out the stressed and unstressed sounds.

If you're familiar with poetry, you can relate that certain rhythms express certain moods. For example, short, choppy sentences give a feeling of tension or excitement. While long, flowing sentences give more of a feeling of ease. (I know this is where some people might argue with me. I know there are exceptions!) If you consider the two examples above, what sort of feeling do they evoke? You have to admit, the first example is more likely to get your heart thumping than the second one.

What's the Word?

Do you remember the good ol' days of vocabulary tests? I had them all through elementary, middle and high school. They were something that I viewed as tedious, but now I am thoroughly grateful for them. Every writer needs an extensive and colorful vocabulary. So, on that note, here are some words I've stumbled across recently.

Susurrus [soo-sur-uhs], noun, plural -rus-es

1. a soft murmuring or rustling sound; whisper

I love this word. You will see it a lot in FURY simply because the word sounds like what it describes: a hissing whisper.

Another fun word:

loquacious [loh-KWAY-shuhs], adjective;

1. Very talkative.
   
2. Full of excessive talk; wordy.
   

Just imagine the scenario you could create by combining those two words! A conversation between two very talkative people speaking in whispers!

Tuesday's Tip #1

I've decided to start a "Tuesday's Tip" in the hopes that I can provide at least some sort of useful information on this blog for other writers (instead of just gabbing about my writing all the time). So, without further ado, here we go.

Tuesday's Tip #1 

When reviewing sentence structure, I find it useful to think of the sentence as a piece of music. Each sentence has its own beat or cadence, and, in order to keep the reader interested, you want to make sure that you don't have too much of one beat structure.


For example: Susan went to the store. She picked up some soup. She bought a dozen eggs.


Notice how each sentence has the same rhythm? Of course, this is the most obvious form, since all the sentences have the same structure: Noun/Pronoun + verb + direct object.


When you repeat a sentence structure, it subconsciously sends a signal to the reader, and after a while it will begin to sound like a metronome. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. And even if the story is intriguing, a reader might find themselves bored after a while.


An improvement on our three sentences: Susan went to the store. After perusing the groceries, she bought soup and eggs.


Read the sentences aloud. Notice how your voice dips and rises? Even when you read silently, some part of your brain (at least, in my case) recognizes the sounds and rhythm of the words. Lack of sentence variation (or rhythm variation) can kill a good story. Often when I see the work of a fledgling writer, this is one of the mistakes that catches my eye. It's easy to fall into a pattern of writing, and it's really easy to use what works. My suggestion: Treat your sentences like pieces of music. The more varied, the better. (Though repeating beats have their uses, too. I'll save that for next time!)

What Weekend?

I finally managed to pick the lock on my unsocial cage and ran around all weekend like I was sixteen again. But with my own car. And no curfew (unless you count an expectant boyfriend who is waiting for hot wings).

Friday, I had sushi for lunch with a friend from work. No biggie. I do that a lot. Lunch with work friends, not sushi. (Unfortunately.) Then, I was supposed to have coffee with Ashley (friend from high school) but the coffee place was closed (sigh) so we went to a new restaurant called Razor's Edge. (If you live in Northwest Arkansas, that name makes perfect sense. Razorbacks, anyone? It still sounds like a salon name to me, however.) While there, we caught up and split an order of "Killer Fries". Which I paid for (in all ways). Lots of fun, though. And lots of girl time. I was like "OMG, I actually feel like a silly 23-year-old girl with no worries." FUN!

Saturday. No plans. Then Mom calls and off we go on a day of shopping and perusing. Me, with no money, still found two books (Stephen King's On Writing and Piers Anthony's Castle Roogna), lots of candy (for trick-or-treaters, of course) and two dance pads for DDR and a new game. I was living the high life, for sure. But, by the time I got home, I was ready to call it a day. (The Killer Fries were still doing their best to lay me low.)

That didn't happen. About 8 p.m., Boyfriend's friends show up already half-smashed. So, what do we do? Proceed to get drunk (well, they did. I had ONE beer) and play DDR (that's Dance Dance Revolution for those of you who aren't geeks). Hilarity ensues. I kick everyone's butt. Though, really, they didn't have a chance. They leave around midnight. Half of my trick-or-treater candy is gone. :(

Sunday. I make breakfast for two and then, over a cup of coffee, start working on DRAGON QUEEN. I know, I'm such a good girl, right? Boyfriend (who is wonderful) is cleaning house. I start feeling a tad guilty (and distracted--there is really nothing sexier than a man washing dishes), so I pitch in. And then I start eyeballing the dining room and living room. What happens? Let's rearrange! The dining room and living room look so much better now (and cleaner). My novel, however, is only a few paragraphs longer than what it was.

Mom shows up. We go to an auction. Buy $5 worth of stuff. I bought butterfly trivets, a chili dog (I learned absolutely nothing from the fries incident) and a diet coke. Antiques were being bought for NOTHING (and if I'd had a few hundred dollars in my pocket, I would have come home with an antique bed, a parlor set, and a hand crank washing machine).

Other friend from high school texts me (this would be Tiffany) and we decide to get together. So, as soon as I leave the auction, I'm on my way to her house. We go out to eat (I have a turkey sandwich this time) and then go SHOPPING. Old Navy. Target. I end up buying blouses and pants for work (writing them off as, well, I NEED them). Get call from Boyfriend. "Will you please bring me home some hot wings?" Of course.

But, before we head home, we have to get Coffee! So Tiffany and I munch white chocolate-covered pretzels and sip mochas. It is now 8:30 p.m. My body is starting to shut down. I drop Tiffany off. Go home. Boyfriend loves me so much more now that I brought him hot wings. I watch Stargate SG-1 and then pass out.

And, for some reason, I had dreams about vikings. And treasure. And zeppelins. Weird.

But, my point is, I need another weekend.

What my writing means to me...

People write for many reasons, and I won't begin to even try to list them all, but a main reason I write is to address issues in my own life through my characters. This is especially true in FURY. I wrote the book as a way to address some of the "wrongs" that were going on not only in my life but in the world around me with the intent of it having an invisible depth. It's more than just a story of a shapeshifter, a demon, and a warrior. More than a love story. And I really hope that people can see that.

I was reading tips from Donald Maas on Writer's Digest about firing up your fiction, and some of the questions he encourages you to ask are: 

What in the world of your story makes you angry? The way people treat Fury makes me angry. The injustice of her situation--being scarred for a 'sin' she did not commit--makes me angry. The way people can use your own weaknesses against you makes me angry.

What is the most important question? Are the flawed redeemable?

 

What puzzle has no answer? Are we ever worthy of the ones who love us?

What is dangerous in this world? The obvious answer would be the Devourer, but she is so much more than that. The dangers are: self-hate, self-doubt, greed, anger, obsession, ambition, pride and unwillingness to forgive.

What causes pain? The misguided and, at times, thoughtless actions of those who are supposed to love us--including ourselves.

As you know, I've been in a love/hate relationship with FURY, but these answers made me remember what it was about the story that begged me to write it. Because it is so much MORE than what it seems to be. Even on the surface it's not your typical love story. 

And my protagonists aren't the typical protagonists of a fantasy, either. Both Fury and Caden, the MCs, struggle with self-loathing and that often projects onto someone or something else. I recently read that heroes aren't supposed to have a lot of darkness in them. I disagree. Maybe it's because I have learned that the true heroes usually aren't the ones that are bright and shiny and made into action figures, but the ones that have real flaws--deep flaws--and are still redeemable. Maybe it won't work. Maybe everyone will hate my book. But I'm not going to change it. 

They say write for your audience. Well, I guess I just have an audience of one. :) (Hopefully there are people out there who will want to read this anyway, however.)

Give me back my Voodoo doll!

I'm sick. AGAIN. Not fun.

I've been told that it's because my immune system is so overloaded with fighting off stress, that it inadvertently lets the bugs in. First: upper respiratory infection. Second: stomach virus. I would take FIVE upper respiratory infections over the stomach virus ANY TIME. I, seriously, thought I was going to die there for a little while. (I was actually praying for it.) And then you know it's HELL when you finally go to the Dr. and in your feeble-minded, ego-bruised, I-just-want-to-die mentality takes another slap in the face when they force you to step on the scale and you've gained FIVE pounds.

WTF? I hadn't eaten anything in three days and I'd GAINED weight? If I'm going to puke myself to death I want to die looking skinny, people!

So, really, whoever has my Voodoo doll can you give it a rest, please? I think we're even.

To sum up this rant: I was sick. No, I did not work on Fury or Dragon Queen. I tried to work on DQ today but didn't get far. When I get home, I'm going to sleep and seriously hurt anyone who tries to wake me up.

No Longer Brain-Dead

I finally--let me repeat that--FINALLY had an enjoyable weekend. Meaning, I did things that were FUN and RELAXING. I spent time on MYSELF. (Pardon the Caps, but you must understand that for someone who doesn't have kids, this shouldn't be nearly as rare as it has been.)

I cleaned house a little, watched Mall Cop, played computer games, visited friends, went shoe shopping with my Mom (I'm happy to say I came back with NOTHING. Go me.), and slept in! Yay!

And then a miracle happened.

This morning on the way to work, I was actually musing about Dragon Queen again! WOW! I finally found out what it was that I didn't like about where the story was heading (it was feeling a bit repetitious) and now I can actually move on. And--more surprises!--I actually was able to look back at Ch. 1 of "Fury" and decide what was wrong with it. I have now, officially, began rewriting the beginning and scratching whole paragraphs. Go me! The new version is much more cohesive and makes better sense. However, it is still a rough draft, so I'm not completely happy with it, but it will get better.

On the note of beginnings, fellow writers need to check out Nathan Bransford's competition. You can post the first paragraph of your WIP or novel and if you win he will request a partial or a query or more! Consolation prizes are books and autographed bookmarks by one of the authors he represents. Cool, eh? Check it out! And good luck! (I might even post the first paragraph of "Fury"!)

Movie Time: Watchmen

I recently tried out that movie-mailed-to-home thing, and, well, I guess I live too far out in the boonies to really get the best of this deal. It takes me about a week before I can get a movie, and then another week to get another movie (even if I send the viewed movie back the next day!). However, I did get the chance to see Watchmen (directed by Zack Snyder) last night, a movie I was looking forward to.

First off, I like super-heroes. Spider-man. Superman. X-Men. I'm all over it. The action is usually pretty great and the plots (while a tad predictable) are satisfying. So, when I popped Watchmen into the DVD player, I was expecting something along those same lines. Mainly, entertainment.

Er, not so much.

"Watchmen" is set in an alternate 1985 America in which costumed superheroes are part of the fabric of everyday society, and the "Doomsday Clock" - which charts the USA's tension with the Soviet Union - is permanently set at five minutes to midnight. When one of his former colleagues is murdered, the washed up but no less determined masked vigilante Rorschach sets out to uncover a plot to kill and discredit all past and present superheroes. As he reconnects with his former crime-fighting legion - a ragtag group of retired superheroes, only one of whom has true powers - Rorschach glimpses a wide-ranging and disturbing conspiracy with links to their shared past and catastrophic consequences for the future. Their mission is to watch over humanity... but who is watching the Watchmen?" Written by T-Hen (Courtesy of www.imdb.com)

I never thought I'd call a super-hero movie deep, disturbing or thought-invoking, but this was all of those things. It starts off with The Comedian getting murdered (pretty typical action movie, right?) but then it pans back into all this political stuff dealing with the Cold War and nuclear warheads. You see glimpses into the Comedian's past, and, well, he's not what you would call a typical super-hero. Not even a typical dark and tormented super-hero. If I could sum it up in one word, I would say that he's a bastard. Definitely not what you would think of when you think of a "good guy".

And then we get a very GRAPHIC (har har) history of all the other flawed super-heroes. Even Dr. Manhattan (who is often referred to as 'god-like') is apathetic and unconcerned with the fate of humanity. (Is that an alliteration for God? Probably.) This is shown in a disturbing (yes, I'm going to use that word many times in this post) exchange between the Comedian and Dr. Manhattan in Vietnam. Thinking about it now still makes me shudder.

The beginning is slow, but when you get to the end, all those scenes that make you think "Ok, yeah, so? Can we move on please?" make sense in the end. It's definitely a movie you have to pay attention to, so if you're looking for mindless entertainment, I'd pass on this one.

I wouldn't recommend letting the kids watch this one either. It's Rated R for a reason (and trust me, there are a LOT of reasons, including watching two dogs play tug-of-war with a girl's leg.) However, if you're wanting to watch a movie that will make you think, definitely pick this one up. If you're anything like me, you will be deeply affected. And also saying, WTF?

Memorable quote:
Adrian Veidt: It doesn't take a genius to see the world has problems.
Edward Blake (aka The Comedian): No, but it takes a room full of morons to think they're small enough for you to handle.

An ADD Moment

I haven't been diagnosed with ADD, but sometimes I really think that I might have it. But then, I have to reevaluate and think that maybe it's just my mind rebelling against all the demands I put on it.

And then a part of it is sulking, just because.

The point is, I can't focus on anything today.

I was all gung-ho on editing "Fury", so I posted the first chapter on the writer's forum. The reactions so far are, well, not ones of amazed wonderment that I was hoping for. So I'm pouting. Just a little. (Never fear, I'll get over it.) But my zeal for editing "Fury" evaporated. I'm going through that moment that all writers go through: where you throw up your hands and ask 'what's the point?'

So, now that I'm throwing "Fury" dirty looks, I decided that maybe it was time to pick up "Dragon Queen" again. And, you know, finish it. I wrote a couple paragraphs but I'm stuck. There is SOMETHING MISSING! (Besides my confidence.) So I stared at the screen for a little while before throwing up my hands again and deciding to find something else to do. But nothing appeals.

Well, a nap appeals, but that's not an option at the moment.

Grr. Maybe I need some caffeine or something (except I'm not supposed to have caffeine. Bummer). Really, someone needs to whip me up a concentration potion (or at least chocolate cake).

What Works

Have you heard that saying (or something similar), "It's a lot more difficult to be creative on a deadline"? This statement is frequently heard when a certain bestselling author comes up with the same old story, the same old characters, and the same old plot. I've heard complaints that they just didn't have enough "time" to think of something new. And, really, why should they? Because their name is attached to it, it will still sell.

Well, I have to disagree with the statement that creativity does not exist in time constraints. Mainly due to the fact that I am a procrastinator (always have been) and I find that I work the best when I have a fast-approaching deadline. That's when the ideas start germinating, the pen starts flying, and I get so excited that some people might call me rabid. That's what it was like in college, and that's what it's still like.

Maybe that's why I'm more satisfied with some of the pieces that I write using Write or Die than those that I write leisurely.

If I have lots of time to write a story, I usually find myself putting it off to do other things. I'm easily distracted and easily bored. Often, I tap away at the keyboard listlessly, and my characters are often just lolling around, not doing anything. But when someone is breathing down my neck (or I pretend they are) that's when the juices flow.

However, it's really a matter of "whatever floats your boat". So, what would you prefer? All the time in the world or a deadline?

A sad, sad day

Something awful happened to me this morning.

I got up (no, that's not the awful thing) and was like "oh no! I think I overdrew my bank account yesterday!" (no that's not it either) and so I race to the computer (actually, stagger is more appropriate--it was 6 in the morning, after all) and wait while it slowly beeps to life.

Un-caffeinated, I stare at the screen for about three minutes before I realize that something is wrong.

Lots of white text on screen = normal (I found out today that the appropriate term for this is the 'post'). But then, at the bottom, it says "Insert media reboot device and press any key". Now, even when I am caffeinated, that makes me go "What media reboot device?" So, what do I do? I just press a key, cross my fingers, and hope that works.

It didn't. Like a patient school teacher, it repeated its message.

Well, I'll show you, computer!

I turn it off.

Wait.

I turn it back on.

If computers could laugh diabolically, mine would have. In a truly truculent moment, it whirs to life (yes, it whirs. The fan is huge) and refuses to do anything else. The screen is completely blank.

I blink at it for a moment. Debate about smashing said computer, and do the fail-proof fix. I turn off the computer again. Check all the connections. Make sure nothing is on fire (or looks like it's about to be). Check the connections again. Turn it back on.

It whirs to life and then...Nothing!!!

I start cussing. My boyfriend starts looking for exits. I reconsider my plan to smash computer to bits.

Leave for work. Discuss problem with IT guys. Diagnosis: You're probably going to need to replace the hard drive or motherboard or both.

My response: So, what you're saying is you're coming over to my house after work, right?

Blank stare.

My response: So, what you're saying is that I need to buy a new computer, right?

And, thus, my tragedy. Fortunately, I have a laptop I can connect, so all is not lost. But I'm going to coerce one of my friends to come over and confirm the diagnosis. Then I'm going to have him either A) fix it or B) recommend a new computer.

I like the idea of a new computer...if someone else wants to buy it for me. Any takers? :)

What's on the Bookshelf?

I've been somewhat of a snob lately when it comes to reading . . .and it makes me want to cry.

Why? Well, I picked up a romance (woot) by one of my favorite authors and ended up rolling my eyes every other paragraph. I blame my inner-editor, but when it starts interfering with just enjoying a book, then you know it's time to re-evaluate the situation. Which led me to two conclusions.

1) That I was being overly critical, having aftershocks from editing "Fury", and needed to give Ms. Favorite Author a break.

2) The book really did suck, and I had just realized that one of my favorite authors wasn't such a great author after all. ::cry::

So, I head to the bookshelf. Well, THE bookshelf (I have two, you see. One for generic books that were "ok" and one for my FAVORITES). Well, her books are on THE bookshelf, which is one of those sleek, cherry, leaning bookshelves that I honestly squealed over when my boyfriend bought it for me for Christmas <3.>

They're women.

::Gasp!:: I'm a sexist reader! 

Well, I had to prove that I wasn't a sexist, so I delved and found that I happen to have a few books on there by men. They are as follows: Christopher Paolini's books; J.R.R. Tolkien's LOTR trilogy and The Hobbit; Piers Anthony's Dragon on a Pedestal; Nicholas Sparks' The Lucky One (which I haven't read, whoops); and The Bible (argue all you want, it was written by MEN). 

The rest, which usually include more than one book, are by Anne Bishop <3, Julie Garwood, Teresa Medeiros, Stephenie Meyer (hey, they're hardbacks), Kristen Britain, J. K. Rowling and...

I think that's it. They're some art books, and then my books stuffed in binders, but that's it.

Still, if you look at it with squinty eyes, you're going to see that the female authors overwhelm the men. Looking at it--still squinty eyed--I came to the conclusion on why that was:

Women tend to write about other women. They have strong female characters who are, more often than not, the protagonists. As a woman, I like reading about female heroes. And, if they're not the hero, they have to be more than one-dimensional. Male writers (not all!) seem to have the problem of putting women in categories. This is especially true with "classic" literature. And since they got away with it centuries ago, some modern male writers think they can still get away with it. The Rejectionist had a hilarious rant about receiving such manuscripts recently.

However, I have no desire to avoid male writers simply because they're male. So I'm trying to broaden my horizons. If you have recommendations, I'm all ears.

I'm BACK!!!

I'm finally back from vacation (if you could call it that). 

I got back into Arkansas around 11:30 a.m. Friday and just wanted to shout for joy. I've seriously never been so stressed on a trip. And when you top dollops of stress with a recovering immune system, what do you get? 

Apparently, hair loss.

The sad thing is I'm not joking. Fortunately, I have enough hair to suffocate in, so losing a few handfuls isn't going to be too noticeable. Except that my hairdresser noticed. Eek. So I'm loading myself up with vitamins and meditation, and hopefully that will work.

It helps, too, that I'm no longer dealing with a 60-year-old man who acts like a freakin' toddler. Grr. There are some people that I wish to cut out of my life, but, unfortunately, they're related. So that's not possible. Drat it.

But, the point of this post (other than letting you know I'm back) is that I have to apologize. 

I'm sorry . . . because I did not work on "Fury" or "Dragon Queen" at all. I had the time, I'll admit. But I was so aggravated the whole time we were in West Virginia that I couldn't grasp the Muse. If I was writing a battle scene, I might have managed it. But, nope. Sorry. Sorry!

I promise to be a good girl (and a good writer) and write furiously this week. Hopefully we shall see the end of Dragon Queen soon!

Sing-a-long

I'm a lover of diverse music. You're as likely to find me jamming to Pearl Jam as SheDaisy. I like Beethoven and Merle Haggard, Disturbed and Pink. Heck, I even like Eminem. 

But there is one thing that just really kills a song for me:

It's message.

That's why you won't find me listening to a lot of rap or hip-hop, because I don't like to hear about phat rides or bootylicious babes and how gangstas are pimpin. Mainly, I don't care, and usually I find it laughable. But there is one song that has really got me annoyed lately:

"Joey" by Sugarland.

It's been a long time since I've loathed a song, but I. Hate. This. One. Why? Because I think it glorifies self-loathing and guilt over things that you have absolutely no control over. According to The Boot the song is about a teen boy who dies in a car wreck, leaving the singer (in this case, Jennifer Nettles) to bemoan all the things she could have done to stop it.

WTF?

"I'm so sorry," the narrator sings. For what? Really? I'm waiting for the second version of this song. 

"I'm so sorry for cutting your brake lines..." That's a song that would make sense.

Do we honestly want to encourage this kind of inane thinking in young women who are already brainwashed into believing that true love exists in one-dimensional, immortal alpha males and that  they'll only be beautiful if they resemble skeletons? Now, let's dose them with a song about how things that are absolutely out of their hands should bring them enormous guilt. 

I repeat: WTF?

The worst thing is, once you hear it, it's stuck in your head ALL DAY LONG. It's enough to make me want to bang my head against something.

Sorry, Ms. Nettles. I love most of your other songs--but I'll never buy the album that this is on, and I am forced to turn off the radio when it comes on. 

What Your Characters Take From You, and What They Give in Return.

People often ask me, "Where do your ideas come from?"

From my characters.

"And where do your characters come from?"

From parts of me.

Often, a character will enter my head before his/her story will. Long before I knew Fury's story, I knew her. She came from a part of my life that we'll just sum up with the word "awful". She suffers from all the things that I suffer from, and I hoped that by telling her story and making her overcome some of her inner issues, not only would she grow as a character, but I would grow as a person.

I'm not sure if that makes sense, but bear with me.

You would think that the writer of a story knows exactly what is going to happen, how it is going to happen, and why it is going to happen. In my case, that's not really true. Often, I just have a vague idea, and my characters drive me toward it--often making unexpected moves along the way. Since that is the case, not only do the characters learn as they go along, but I do to. 

I learn from them.

Now, in "Fury" there is a lot of emotional/moral conflict. When I wrote it, I probably didn't even realize it, but looking back I'm able to pick it all out. And I can learn from it.

"Fury" is currently going through some major revisions, and a lot of things are getting cut. A story that started out at 119,000 words in its first rough draft, is now down to 112,000. And I'm not even halfway through. My problem--which I believed stemmed from the issues I was having in my personal life at the time--is that the story is not very active. There is a lot of inner dialogue. A lot of introspection. But my characters don't DO anything very much. I'm changing that. Not only to keep the reader's interest, but because I realized that the story is not one to be told passively. That's not its message. Characters--and people--don't change through thinking about things and just sitting around waiting for stuff to happen, they go out and do something about it.

I tend to be a passive person, but I didn't realize how much it reflected in my writing and in my characters. Fury, instead of being the active, in-your-face heroine I wanted her to be, was a mopey damsel in distress who took a total of two stands in the entire book. And even afterward she went on being passive. That's not her, and that's not the story. So I'm changing it. It means A LOT of revisions, but it will be worth it.

Because she deserves more, and I can finally recognize that. 

What's up?

Well, I'll tell you what's up: the newspaper business isn't doing so well. Not sure if I've clued you in, but I work for a local newspaper as an editorial assistant. We learned today that the big bosses have decided to merge with our competition and form a new business, in which half would be controlled by our former bosses, and have by the other companies bosses. Yay! (Not so much.) First off, the new company gets to control the newsroom (where I work) and therefore are in charge of staff. Which means that in a couple months I may or may not have a job. I'm crossing my fingers that I will.

As for the other spectrum of my life (my writing) I am pruning away on "Fury" and have reached Chapter 23. Yay! (For real this time.) This revision is taking longer than I thought because I'm (you won't believe it) giving my characters PERSONALITY! OMG! What? Am I crazy? I must be.

I realized that one of my main problems in "Fury" was that I took a lot of shortcuts. Telling instead of showing--lots of freaking introspection and very little action. In a word: Blah! But this new version is showing potential. I'm not changing huge things in it, so the plot is mostly the same, I'm just making it a heck of a lot juicier. Fury and Caden have some knock-out drag-outs, and you actually get to SEE it instead of being TOLD about it. For the first time, I'm actually getting to know my characters through how they act, not what they think. Hooray!

As for "Dragon Queen" ::hides head in shame:: I'm only about five chapters from the end, but I haven't been working on it. Mainly because I'm focusing on "Fury". I DO have it all outlined, however, so no worries. I pinky-swear that as soon as "Fury" is edited, I'm going to focus on "Dragon Queen". And on that note, back to work!

A Breather

I'm taking a little bit of a breather (as in maybe 30 minutes to the rest of the day) on Dragon Queen. I just finished writing the first part of Ch. 31, which was a LOT of information and should give the reader a few "Ah-ha! So that's why!" remarks. I am mentally and emotionally exhausted and unfortunately the action is revving up again. The second part of the chapter needs to be a bit of a breather, too. A least a scene where Jade has to figure out how she's going to get out of her current situation (yeah, she's in another mess). 

The good news is I think I have at the most 10 chapters left (or about 20K) and this novel will be DONE. Woohoo! That would make it about 90K completed. Good word count, in my opinion. 

There's still a lot I have to figure out about the ending, however. Like how Drake and Jade are going to make up--and end up. What happens to Darion, Honey, Mikkay and Lace? I'm sure at least one is going to die (oops, spoiler) but WHO? Lol. 

Surprise!

Dragon Queen is very close to the climax (I know, that sounds wrong), and therefore the falling action will soon follow. 

I've a few ideas in my head right now, but I'm stuck on Ch. 28. Jade has learned a number of things in a short space of time, and she's trying to decide if she's better off for it. (Her heart says no, her head says yes.) Plus, there is the whole thing with "Who is the main villian?" Which makes me think that Darion needs to make a star appearance VERY soon. He's sort of been in the background of the story--the threat that must be addressed. And, yes, he has killed a few of Jade's allies, but there has yet to be a Jade vs. Darion. That MUST happen. But when? Ahhh! I need to make an outline, I think. 

I know that Honey is going to play a role, but I won't specify what. (Sorry, you'll have to read it). But that does make me go misty-eyed, because, in all honesty, I LOVE Honey. She's such a malleable character. Vicious, yet kind. Beautiful, yet devious. Can you trust her? Can you not? It makes me want to dance. 

I have considered giving her her own story. It would be an interesting one, that's for sure. But I'm not sure if she'll have enough steam left over from this story to continue her own. We shall see. 

Ok, enough stalling. I shall start writing now.

P.S. The editing process of "Fury" is going well, too. Yay.

Movie for the Sci-Fi Masses

Ok, who ever thought that the director of the Titanic would dabble in sci-fi? Well, not me. But apparently there is a new movie coming out called "Avatar" which features humanoids who sort of look like the Draenei off of World of Warcraft. It looks interesting, to say the least.

But, well, form your own opinion and watch the trailer.

The Curse Is Broken!

Wait for it . . .

Yes, I have, officially, begun working on "Fury" again. I realized what was keeping me from being enthusiastic about it. The main thing was I didn't like parts of my chapters. There was a lot of TELLING. Which I didn't even realize. But I have smoothed a lot of those places over (at least up to Ch. 6). The story is coming across strong again. The way I intended. So, YAY!

And on that note, I have noticed a few mentions of Critters on the Writer's Digest Sci-Fi/Fantasy Forum. So, I took a peek. There are people on that site willing to give critiques not just on segments or scenes, but on WHOLE novels. They agree to read your story from beginning to end and offer edits, suggestions, and opinions. My reaction: Amazing!

So I'm going to be looking into that site further, and see if it's for me. I know something like that, if it's trustworthy, would definitely be an asset to my writing.

If you have any opinions to offer on the site, or have similar sites to suggest, I would appreciate the information.

Spread the love, not the hate

A little while back, I posted a chapter of Dragon Queen on the Writer's Digest SF/F forum and got a snarky comment about a particular bit of dialogue harkening Twilight. The line was: "There's something about you that calls to me. That pulls me in. I wish I knew why". (Drake to Jade)

At the time, I was appalled. Like a lot of other writers on the forum, Stephenie Meyers' teen vamp novels were not on my list of books to emulate. First off, because I was not going for the same audience and secondly, well, I just didn't find the story all that fabulous. (Wait! Don't throw the tomatoes yet, please!) So, the line got scratched and reworded and we went on a rant about the Twilight books. (Sorry, Ms. Meyers.)

Well, maybe because I'm becoming more heart and less brain lately, but I've started feeling a little sorry for Ms. Meyers. After all, she's probably a lot like me: a woman who thought of a story and wrote it because she felt the need to. And, so, after reading another Twilight-bash on one of the blogs I follow, my heartstrings twanged a little bit, and I thought I would go on to find out what Ms. Meyers and her vampire-romances are really about.

I went to her official website and read her post on how Twilight came to be, and it just kept getting more and more familiar. By the end, this woman could have been the me of an alternate universe (except that I have yet to write any teen vampire romances--or get published). She was inspired by a dream and from there it just controlled her. She was compelled to write the story and never dreamed that it was anything that would be published. But, voila, it was, and it was an irrefutable success (no matter what you think). 

Now, I will admit that, yes, I own all of the Twilight series. Two in hardcover. I enjoyed the first book and the second, but was disappointed by the next two (though they did have their good moments). I have friends who L.O.V.E. the books, and appreciate them more than I can, and I'm happy that they can. There are certainly elements in there of good storytelling, I won't deny. 

However, I'm looking at her books through the eyes of a writer, and there are things about the books that just sort of fall flat (as a lot of writers will agree). Still, that's not the point of this post. The point is that when any writer looks at the success of another and feels that the success is the result of an overrated product, he/she can quickly become the green-eyed monster and start spewing filth about the author--and soon he/she loses sight of the fact that the author was or is just like them. A person trying to tell a story. Is it a great story? Depends on the reader. But it is still a story, and I believe that all stories are worth telling and all writers are worth encouraging.

So, please, people, give Ms. Meyers a break and remember that she is probably more like you than you would like to believe. 

A Glance at "Fury"

Since I've been trying to get in the mood for Fury again (so I can actually get around to querying for agents and the like) I thought I would post the first chapter. So, tell me, does it spark you?

One: Driven

Fury wanted to die.

An inescapable call, it drove her through the forest. She slid around a tree and angled for the river. The earth pulsed like a heartbeat beneath her. Its heat shimmied through her paws, up her legs and into her brain. Trees called to her, trying to distract her from her mission.

She wouldn’t stop.

She leapt over a fallen stump. Not pausing, she ran on.

The forest pulled at her, saturating her senses with its dark and bittersweet smell, until it was as if she were an integral part of the leafy underbrush, the stately trees, the mossy ground. But if that was the case, why did her heart thunder? Why did pain wrack her soul?

The wind whistled behind her, spreading through her fur like stroking fingers. The sensation urged her faster, drove her harder. To her left, she could hear the Yastire River raging. To her right, birdsong, and before her, she could see a break in the trees. Ahead of that, the jagged edge of a cliff. The river raced ahead, cutting her off, lurking at the bottom of the cliff like a frothing leviathan.

The crumbling shelf loomed closer.

She ran harder.

The shale disintegrated beneath her claws. The ground gave way until there was nothing but a brittle layer supporting her weight.

She gathered her strength and jumped.

She closed her eyes. This is it. I’m going to die.

But instead of the peace she had hoped for, panic filled her. Against her will, her form shuddered and twisted. Her flesh rearranged, her bones shrank, snapped, reformed. Feathers sprouted over her feline muzzle. Her nose became a beak, and between one instant and the next, the snowy mountain lion became a hawk.

She screeched and thrust the air beneath her wings, once more rising to the level of the cliff.

She had wanted to plummet to the water and let her body be smashed among the rocks until the river foamed with her blood. She screeched again.

The wind shifted, carrying the smell of soil and green, growing things, clearing her mind. She circled and glided to the other side. Landing on a lichen-splotched boulder, she quivered. Horrified, she shook her head.

What is wrong with me?

This had not been the first time she had tried to end her life, and like the times before, she felt that it had not truly been her decision–but an outside influence.

It had been a risk to try to switch from one animal to the next without using her natural form as a buffer. Something that outside influence had not known she could do. She hadn’t known that she could do it. But something within her, some instinct, had enabled the transformation, saving her. Her body refused to succumb to the whispers that originated from the recesses of her soul. The dark influence lashed out, making her wish that she hadn’t succeeded.

Fury tried to shake off the twisted desire.

She closed her amber eyes, once more focusing on the shape she wished to take. The familiar ache trembled through her body, almost painful, but deeply satisfying. Heat accompanied each transition, cleansing her soul. Even when she took the most dreaded form of them all.

The feathers retreated into her skin, leaving it naked to the breeze. Goosebumps raced across her arms. Once the process was complete, she straightened to her full height and stretched toward the sky. Keeping her eyes closed, she momentarily enjoyed the feel of her shape, the long limbs, the slender torso, the strength and grace of all her movements, the slight sting as the wind flung her hair against her bare skin.

She opened her eyes.

Scars shrouded her skin, leaving no expanse unscathed. They zigzagged over her arms, her torso, her thighs. Even her toes. But the worst of them split her face until none of her features could be distinguished beneath the ropy mass. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to adjust.

No matter how many times she shifted back, the scars still caught her off guard. When she wore the shape of animal, the scars did not mar her body. Beneath the fur and feathers, her skin was as smooth as a length of satin, and she prowled the forest as a beautiful beast. Returning to the carnage of her human body was like receiving a dagger in the gut, and it had the power to bring her to her knees.

Fury didn’t collapse, but stood straighter. She had lived her whole life with these scars, enduring them for many years before she discovered how to make her body obey her shapeshifting whims. It was her true form, her natural shape, who she really was. She touched her face, and her fingers flinched away.

Most would have ended this living torture long ago, and, oh, how she’d wanted to. The seductive thoughts whispered, and she looked for excuses to end her life. But she continued to survive. Even though she was worse than an outcast.  Even though humans shunned, abused, ridiculed and even hated her for how she looked.

Only the forest accepted her, both as a beast and a human. It had kept her spirit strong, kept her from giving in to those dark murmurs. Or perhaps she had been born to be fiery, to have a passion for life so great that no amount of scorn, despair or malicious influence could quench it. Not even her own. After all, what else could be expected of a shapeshifter called Fury?

A hawk’s cry pulled her from her morbid musings. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she padded away from the cliff’s edge. The trees’ girth blocked out the river’s deadly song, and her fragmented heart softened a little around the edges. The insanity that had compelled her to seek death returned to its whispering state, replaced by the murmurings of the trees. She cocked her head to listen. Relief, joy, worry and fear muddled the message, but she understood. The trees were glad she was alive. Glad that she had not gone to a place where she could no longer hear their words. For who would listen to the forest if not her?

It was a consolation that she was able to speak—and listen—to things that normally ignored the animated. Something to keep her from shattering with loneliness. She sighed and placed her hand on a nearby elm. The bark scraped at her palm. The heart of the tree hummed a slow, steady song.

“I’m fine now,” she reassured. “It’s gone.”

The tree’s song thrummed in response.

Yes, it was gone. But how long would it stay away? These fits—for that was the only word she could use—had been coming upon her more and more frequently. At times she felt as if she no longer had control over her actions, like it wasn’t even her that desired oblivion, and she could only watch her life be consumed by something that had the power to make her feel all the hurts of her past as if they were in the moment. Every childhood fall, every cruel slight, congealed within her.

To escape it, she fled to the deepest parts of her soul and cowered, making it all the easier for that outside influence to seize control of her body. She shuddered again as she thought of how close she had come to losing the battle today. A few more seconds and…

She wouldn’t finish the thought. Angrily, she shook her head. She wouldn’t succumb to those whispers again.

She retrieved a small, sharp stone and placed its point down into the flesh of her palm. Clenching her fingers around it, she forced it into her skin. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Only when the blood began to well around the rock did she release the pressure. The stone tumbled from her hand, red now from her blood. She let the wound bleed.

She prayed it would scar.

That scar would remind her of her promise: She would not give in. And even among the other scars, Fury would be able to pick it out, because it was one that she had actually earned. Curling her fingers around the wound, she placed it over her bare chest.

I will not give in.

e f

I will not give in.

It screamed in rage as the girl’s soul-promise carried through the currents of the dreamscape, smashing against the magic that had made it possible to carry out its influence. The power lashed back and bit into its skin, lacerating its flesh and revealing the horror beneath. It hissed and devoured one of the souls writhing within it to gain control of the magic. Another consumption restored its pleasing appearance. Only one soul remained. It would have to hunt again soon.

Its enemy was growing stronger. Did she know? Could she tell? It fretted for a while before calming itself. No, she didn’t know. She couldn’t know. Not yet. Not when it was so close to finding the key to destroy her.

It allowed itself a smile.

So close. The key was so close. And it was getting closer. Even now it could feel the key approaching its domain. What shape would most likely snare it? It smiled again.

It knew.

Twirling away from the edge of the cliff where it had woven its dream-power, it once more focused its magic and allowed a small fragment of its host to return.

The years had tainted her, made her more susceptible to its whims. It was grateful that it had preserved her. It would need her pain, her love, her regret and her thirst for vengeance to defeat its enemy. Her enemy. Our enemy.

“Yalei,” it said in her voice, “I am Yalei again.” Her lips curled up, revealing the tips of her fangs, and her jubilant laugh echoed like death’s screech.