Pass the Plot Scene 13

“Father” Nara let the word drift over the mind feed. The link between the two of them formed and expanded. “You called.” Her panic subsided. She needed to take action.

“The hull it is interfering with the explosives. We need to magnetize it so that we can destroy the ship.” Captain Denett’s sounded in her head. Nara was on her feet within seconds. There was a comp panel next to the door. If it hadn’t been destroyed in the fire fight or by the Kloquin, she would use it to fix their little problem.

She opened the door to the comp panel. “A keyboard. How primitive.” She whispered. The Galadrians for all their robotic technology had been rather old fashioned when it came to computers. It was certainly a good thing that she was fluent in Galadrian. She let her fingers fly over the keys. One code. Then two. Then finally the third and final code was entered into the keyboard.

Nara opened her mind feed. “Father, I’ve magnetized the hull. Set the thermal charge and meet me at port 60178. I’m sending you the schematics.” The diffuser that her father set should have spread through the ship now. Any fully technological beings would be compromised. The door hissed open when Nara pressed the button.

“Nara, listen to me. I’m going after the Princess. If I’m not there in exactly five minutes, I want you to leave this ship. Do you understand?” The words coming over the mind feed were sterner now and more fatherly. They didn’t match the image of the man running through the corridors of the Galadrian ship. She saw doors and comp panels flashing through the mind feed.

Nara fought the urge to panic. She didn’t want to leave the ship without him. She didn't know what was going on o the other ship. “But Father….” Nara had spent the last six months being careful not to acknowledge her relationship with him.

“Don’t 'but Father' me. Go.”

Nara ran to the port and climbed aboard the transport and started the engines. Her father was going after the Klox princess on a ship that was going to explode. The panic rose again in Nara's throat. No. No, she wouldn't let herself get lost in fear again. Nara tore her mind away from her father’s task and focused on her own. She would be piloting the transport without guidance from the home ship. She needed to remember her training. She flipped one switch. Then two. Then a third.

The doors to the transport opened. Nara didn't look up.

“Nara. Let us leave now.” The voice came from over her shoulder. It was familiar. Very familiar.

Nara turned .“Father. It can’t be.” She breathed the words. It couldn’t be her father. Her father was searching for the princess. She could almost feel the vibration of the flux capacitor in his hand. This thing in front of her was not her father.

“We must leave quickly.” The thing that wasn’t her father spoke again.

Nara stood. Her hand twitched against the transport phaser. It wasn’t set to stun. It was set to kill. She didn't wait to see what would happen. Instead, she drew and pulled the trigger. The thing that wasn’t her father fell. The image that it had been projecting failed and Nara was able to see the princess that had been her friend for the first time as she was supposed to be. She was beautiful. Purple skin. Flowing orange hair. Coal black eyes. Eyes that were glassy in death.

Nara had killed her. She’d killed the last ruler of the Klox. The droids no longer had anyone to protect. The Galadrian ship would be safe now.

She opened her mind and sent the words over their newly developed connection “Father. Hurry up. It is time to go home."

Pass the Plot 3, Scene 9

"Thompson, Jennings, Schmidt, and Graziano come with me. We're going to take Shuttle 2. We're on full alert. Shuttle 1 has been compromised. I repeat we are on full alert." Nara grabbed the old-fashioned shotgun and loaded it with two shells. She tucked the blaster and an extra battery pack into the holster at her waist. She didn't check to see if the others were doing the same. Sixteen years in military school preparing for a command in the Interplanetary Navy and she had been fooled because of her lack of experience in male-female relations. Well, Nara wouldn't be fooled again. Trust was a commodity to be traded just like rubies from the Nekoajn mines.

She pressed in the code to open the doors to Shuttle 2 and they butterflied open. "Thompson, you're on the wheel. Graziano, you have the comm. Schmidt and Jennings, you are security." She settled into the navigator's chair and felt Thompson slide in beside her. Nara looked over and saw the other woman's cheeks were tracked by tears.

"Kirk's tribbles." She swore under her breath. Thompson had been engaged to Hanna and Hanna had been on Shuttle 1. "Thompson, if you need to be reassigned, please speak up now."

"I'm fine, ma'am. Just fine." Thompson tilted her chin back. "I welcome the opportunity to carry out this mission." Anger laced the other woman's words. She pulled on the headset in front of her and spoke into the microphone. "Shuttle 2 preparing for takeoff from the Galajax 400. Please open the airlock doors."

Nara nodded her head and turned her attention back to her duties. She could spare a round from the blaster if Thompson turned out to be a liability for the rest of the crew. She turned in her chair and faced the others.

"Blasters out." Her words came out in a whisper. Nara swallowed and took a deep breath. One moment ticked by. Then two before she found her voice again. "Remember, the only way to destroy a Galadrian ship is to take out the head. Preserve your rounds and battery power when possible. Take aim at only those that look like the head of the colony."

The others nodded and Nara turned back to the vid screen. They were being pulled into the Galadrian ship. The vid screen went black and the shuttle was silent. No hum of the engine. No low of the atmosphere machine. Utter silence until the shuttle clunked down on something metal.

Nara stood and pulled her blaster out of her holster. The other members of the crew followed suit. Her heart beat faster and faster. She didn't want to die today.

The doors butterflied open. "Welcome to the Galadrian Rose, Nara."

Pass The Plot 3: Scene 3

"Holy Kirk!" Nara swallowed hard and stared at the vid screen. Green smoke billowed from a large wheel shaped craft. To think that she'd been bored. "Is that what I think it is?"

The captain gave an almost imperceptible nod. Fear and latent memories rushed through Nara. She took a deep breath and whispered, "You know what this means, Captain."

"Yes." One word. One word to share centuries of fear. One word.

Nara shifted her weight and stood at attention. "Captain, I would like permission to board her." She spoke so that the others on the bridge could hear.

"You have my permission, Ensign." The captain turned to face Lieutenant Elion. "Lieutenant, I would like you to pick a crew and accompany Ensign Nara on this mission."

The other woman narrowed her eyes at Nara and then snapped off a salute to the Captain. "Yes, sir. Permission to leave, sir."

"Granted. And take the Ensign with you."

The other girl turned and left. Nara followed.

"Ellie, I'm sorry." Nara whispered as soon as the doors had closed behind them. "I know that you and Darrew had plans tonight."

Ellie shrugged her shoulders. "With that off the starboard side…"

Nara shivered. "Kirk's Bald Head, this is bad news for the Confederation."

"Yes."

"Ellie! Thank the moons that you're safe!" A deep voice rumbled from behind them. "What is going on? They've ordered us to our cryo chambers."

Nara turned. Darrew. Her breath at the sight of the tall, blonde man advancing upon them. He was Ellie's kryan. Never hers. She forced a friendly smile onto her face.

"Darrew! Why didn't you follow Captain Denett's orders?" Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. "All colonists must be in their cryo chambers until the danger has passed."

"Then, there is danger. Liam said that there must be." Darrew stepped closer to Ellie. "Are you ok? As soon as the ship lurched I came to look for you." He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder and Ellie visibly relaxed.

Nara looked down, letting her gaze linger on the rubberized corridor floor. "Ellie, we have to go. Soon."

"You go to chambers without me. Tell Scott, Jacobs, and Hanna to suit up. They'll be going with us."

"Yes, ma'am." Nara's gaze lingered a moment on Darrew. "Don't be long. This is the first time in a score of Earth years that they've been seen."

Nara let her mind drift back to the terror that waited on her. Xenopsychology would be of no use if they struck first.

A New Game Plan to Avoid Moral Victories

Now some of you may know that I'm a football fan. A huge watch-whatever-game-is-on football fan. I've watched a lot of not-so-good football teams play tough against really good teams. The fans and the commentators always say "Well, they played tough. The [INSERT LOSING TEAM HERE] can grow and learn from this. That was a real moral victory."

Bah, I say. A loss is a loss is a loss is a loss. And losing is no fun. It is hateful. It makes you want to cry and pout. Although I do not recommend doing it on national TV. The commentators will make fun of you. See this poor guy as an example.

How does this relate to writing? Funny you should ask. I've had too many moral victories as a writer. I've got to stop saying "At least, I wrote today. That's something." Or "I've got two first drafts. That is more than I had before." This is not the kind of thinking that a successful writer has. I've been writing "seriously" for three years, but I've not sent out a single query letter. I have had the "Wait until next year mentality" for far too long.

No longer will this be the case. I'm changing my game plan.

I'm giving myself deadlines and am making myself publicly accountable for those deadlines.. I'm stating here that this is what I have to do this year. Look for regular scoring updates throughout the coming year.

Game Plan for This week: Write 6,000 new words.

Game Plan for the Rest of the Season:

1. Finish a 90,000 word first draft of TDC by the end of January
   
2. Plot MLTM – World War II short during the first week in February
   
3. Write a 10,000 -15,000 word first draft of MLTM by the end of February
   
4. Read and EDITS the first draft of TDC by the end of February. Make Notes
   
5. Plot GL in April..
   
6. Complete the first pass of Revisions on TDC by the end of May
   
7. Submit TDC into the Maggies and other contests as time permits.
   
8. Read and EDITS the first draft of MLTM during the first week of June. Make notes.
   
9. Complete first pass of revisions on MLTM by end of June
   
10. Complete second pass of revisions on MLTM by the middle of July
    
11. Query MLTM by the beginning of August.
    
12. Complete a first draft of GL by mid October.
    
13. Complete second pass of revision for TDC by the end of September.
    
14. Cry and send my second born novel into the big bad world. Query TDC during the month of October.
    
15. Plot as yet unidentified novel during October.
    
16. November 1^st – NANO BEGINS!!!!!
    

Schizophrenic Characters and Other Nonsense

To paraphrase the rest of the Tri Mu. “Schizophrenia is not a flaw you should cultivate in your characters.”

Unfortunately, I did this in my current WIP.

In truth, Austin (the name of my hero) didn’t have schizophrenia so much as he had bipolar disorder. In five pages, he went from morbidly depressed to confidently flirty. Hmmmm….No logical jump in between the two either.

Writing is hard. Writing characters with a consistent and believable personality is even harder. As writers, we have people living in our heads (or chickens as the case may be). We know these people. They may or may not talk to us, but we know them. We know their age, their favorite colors, what they like to eat and what they would rather not eat. Some of us have spent years building a world for them to reside.

If I told most of my non-writing friends and family what happens inside my head, they would stage an intervention.

But we know our characters almost as well as we know ourselves. We know who we want them to be and who they have been in the past. So sometimes we know them better than we know ourselves. Prior to editing my first draft, I knew Austin and I loved him. He was flirty and genial. The perfect foil to my sarcastic and slightly depressed heroine.

But somewhere along the line I decided that I had fallen into the perfect hero trap. That he was too perfect to actually exist and that if I were ever going to sell my novel, Austin needed flaws. So I gave him one. A fiancé that died in a tragic accident that he caused. I amped up the guilt and the depression. It was great and I loved the scene. But then, I had to get the heroine and the hero together on the same page and well, it didn’t work.

Flashes of Austin as I knew him before kept coming through onto the page and by the second time I wrote from his perspective, I’d lost the guilt and depression over the dead fiancé.

I knew that I had problems so I let the Tri Mu read what I had completed and even, they agreed that Austin had a mental stability issue. (Thus, the quote at the beginning of this post.)

Characters don’t like it when writers tell them what to do. In this situation, I tried to tell Austin to be depressed and guilty. He disagreed. Non-writers say “You’re the writer. You get to tell the characters how to behave.” Maybe other writers can do this. I can’t. I guess that I’m a character driven writer. I don’t create the character to suit the plot. I create the plot to suit the character. I will have to accept this about myself.

I’ve decided to resort back to my original Austin. He’s happier now that I’ve decided to do this and the words are coming to the page again. And he’s not perfect. He never was, but don’t tell him I said that.

On Wearing Whore-Red Lipstick and other Stylistic Choices

Horrible kinky curly perm. Big bug shaped glasses. Flannel shirts. Pearls. Tapered jeans. Horizontally striped shirts. Colored jeans. I could go on and on. These are the bad, bad fashion choices that I shared with the world as teenager. Why did my mother let me walk out the house in those clothes? Why didn’t my friends tell me that I looked hideous? Probably because they all looked equally hideous at the time. However, if I made those same choices today, I would hope my friends would stop me.

Writing is like fashion. Choices that worked in the past no longer work today. In the 1970s, the hero-heroine rape scenes were “fashionable” in romance writing. Writing a hero-heroine rape scene today would be the equivalent of wearing MC Hammer pants or 1970s leisure suit -- something that you should try to avoid at all costs.

Once upon at time, it was ok to have your characters look in the mirror and describe themselves. These days it is considered a cliche. To be sure, there are exceptions to this rule. A writer can do anything if they do it well. It’s sort of like pairing vintage sunglasses with an ultra modern outfit or wearing a vintage jacket with anything. To steal the words of Tim Gunn from Project Runway, “Make it Work.”

Then, there are what I call the “should-nots.” This is where a good critique group comes into the equation. Your critique group/partner are the fashion consultants of the writing world. They are the people that say “No sweetie, that works for Nora Roberts. It doesn’t work for you. You should not do this.” Let me give you some examples of a fashion “should-nots” that I’ve seen in my life. The floral "house dress" and curlers in public. (Can you tell I'm from the south?) The college student wearing the pajamas and house slippers in walmart. (I am guilty of this one.) And the most recent and possibly worst. Drum roll please. The short, tight pink satin and black lace number worn with hooker heels by the large woman who walked into the grocery store ahead of me on Sunday. I could see her butt cheeks. It was very, definitely a “should not.” Someone should have told all of these people that they should not be wearing those outfits. Critique groups/partners have a responsibility to prevent their critique partners from making a writing “faux pas” like overuse of adverbs (which in my opinion is liking someone wearing Tammy Faye Baker makeup), overusing to-be verbs, overusing commas, em dashes, and other puncutation, excessive head hopping, etc. Stylistic choices that could annoy the reader.

I hope that the TriMus will be my writing fashion consultants and tell me not to wear that leisure suit rape scene or backless tank top head hopping. I also hope that they will be my real fashion consultants and remind me that perms, tapered jeans, flannel shirts, and bug-eyed glasses are very bad ideas should I ever consider them again.

The Secret Baby, the Runaway Bride and the Romance Novelist that Loves Them

So, I got involved in a book this morning and forgot the time of day. This is not all that unusual. I love books and I often get involved in them and forget to pay attention to what is around me. What disturbs me the most is that it wasn’t even that good of a book. It just had a plot that gets me every time. Every. Single. Time.

It was a Secret Baby book. Yes, you heard me. A Secret Baby Book. I love Secret Baby books and I’m not alone. There are thousands of us. Maybe even millions of us Secret Baby lovers out there. I should be ashamed. I know this, but I’m not. The Secret Baby works.

What is the Secret Baby plot? Here’s the plot in a nutshell. Woman and man have an affair/short term marriage. Woman gets pregnant. Woman or man leaves. Woman does not tell man that she is pregnant and has the baby alone. Some indeterminate time later, man finds out woman has had his child. Chaos ensues. There are variations on this plot (usually involving siblings of the Secret Baby parents), but in general that is how it always starts.

This seems formulaic. It seems contrived, but romance readers (like me) are instantly drawn into the story. The Secret Baby involves a child. It’s a cheap trick but almost everyone loves a baby or a cute kid and almost everyone would agree that a child changes your life instantly. (Finding out that you are the parent of a rebellious adolescent can also be a big life change.) A character that in the past has only worried about themselves is now forced to consider another person – a person that is almost completely dependent on them. The Secret Baby provides an impetus for a character to change. As an added bonus, when the hero and heroine of the book are the Secret Baby’s biological parents, there is the past relationship that didn’t work to add intensity to the story.. The hero and heroine must overcome their shared past before finding their happily ever after. The Secret Baby is one way to add tension to the story and keep the pages of a book turning.

There are several “formulaic” (I hate that word.) plot devices. The Secret Baby. The Runaway Bride. The Reunion. The Takeover. The Vengeful Hero. The list goes on. Most have existed in one form or the other since people began telling stories and they continue to exist because they work. They are part of the tool kit that a romance writer can mix and match to craft his or her story. It is up to the writer to use them in an original and unique way.

Behind the scenes at Modern Mythmaker Picture Day

I know. I know. This is supposed to be about craft, but we had so much fun getting our pictures taken yesterday that I wanted to share it with our readers. So I stayed up last night creating a you tube video when I should have been sleeping.

Here's the video. (It is 8 minutes long and only has pictures that were taken with my camera.)



Let me know what you think!

PS There is music attached. I just can't use it on YouTube.

A New Era Begins

I’m not sure whether I should start this blog with a Star Wars analogy, a Lord of the Rings analogy, or a baseball analogy. I’m going with baseball because that is what I know best. Last fall, we scouted and drafted two new players to the Modern Mythmakers team, NL Berger and Sarah Templeton. Yea! They are fabulous additions to any team and great writers. We expect great things of them!

With the addition of the two new members, we have a new “lineup.”

Batting in the leadoff position is one of our new teammates, NL Berger. NL Berger has written and is querying an epic fantasy novel that does not involve broadswords and wombats. Her first post will go up Monday, March 16th.

Batting second is Kalayna “The Contract” Price. Kalayna has the best batting average of our group. One book completed, edited, and queried. One book published. She’s batting a thousand. Frankly, I am jealous. Kalayna’s next post will go up on Wednesday, March 18th.

Our own Haricot Vert is batting third. Nicknamed The Green Bean, the expert knitter writes speculative fiction with a little bit of epic fantasy thrown in for good measure. Vert’s next post will go up on Friday, March 20th.

I’m batting in the cleanup spot. Tori Pryer is one of my many names. Muahahahaha I write paranormal romance with a historical twist. The serial killer that is existing in my head for my current book scares me a little bit and well, my stories will eventually involve a broadsword and maybe wombat or two. My next post will go up on Monday March 23rd.

Batting fifth is our own Darlene Goodman. An aspiring YA fantasy writer, Darlene enjoys linguistics, quoting Pinky and the Brain, and chasing aliens. (OK, so she doesn’t actually chase aliens, but she’d like to.) Darlene’s next post will go up on Wednesday, March 25th.

Batting last is one of our new teammates, Sarah Templeton. Sarah is in the process of editing her science fiction novel and turning it into something publishable. Sarah is owned by two cats and a lizard. Her lizard is currently plotting its escape so that it can go home with NL. Sarah’s first post will go up on March 27th.

And that my friends is the Modern Mythmakers lineup. Visit every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a new post!

We look forward to chatting with you.

***post edited. The cleanup batter is indeed the fourth batter. Big thanks to NL's sister for making the correction.

Distractions

I’m going to blog about distractions today. Specifically, a 5’11, brown-haired, brown-eyed, extremely cute, makes-me-feel-petite, boy-shaped distraction. This particular distraction is draining all my creative juices into the pool of rampant speculation about what he thinks about me.

This is EXTREMELY different to a girl that has successfully avoided “distractions” for four years.

I’m a romance writer….you would think that a romance writer would believe in romance and happily ever after. You would be wrong. See, I believe in love and lust and affection and compassion and all those other things that come with relationships. I just don’t believe that it happens the way that it happens in a romance novel and well, that is healthy. Romance novels sell fantasy. They sell a world that doesn’t exist. They sell hope that Prince Charming is going to sweep you off your feet and save you. Listen to me right now, you have to save yourself. Years of living and observation have proved this to be true. Hard times happen. Marriages and relationships break up. People die. That is reality and that reality makes the fantasy just that much more valuable to us as writers and as readers.

Happily ever after is relative. I’ve always figured that my happily ever after involved me and my gay best friend and an RV travelling across the country in our old age.

Travelling in an RV still might be my future, but the waters begin to be muddied when you date and dating was something that I’d all but stopped doing. After a series of bad first dates, I stepped off the dating train four years ago with no regrets.

Then, it happened as it always happens. A friend says “I have someone that you should meet.” You reluctantly agree. At least, I did and I was pleasantly surprised to see that he had more going for him than his personality if you know what I mean. It took a little while, but eventually he asked me out and I agreed.

That was my first mistake.

You see, for me, dating is like a roller coaster. You get on the ride and it starts moving, climbing the hill, slowly. You start looking over the side, anywhere but in front of you, where you can see the summit of the hill looming. You start having regrets and thinking if you could get off of this roller coaster, you would. You get to the top of the hill and then WHOOSH and a thrill runs through you, but each time you crest a hill or get ready to turn upside down, you have moments of doubt and insecurity.

That is what dating is to me and it is very, very distracting. The time that I would normally spend on my characters and plot have been spent in moments of doubt and insecurity. Does he like me back? He said I was interesting. What does that mean? He’s not talking to me as much as he was last week. Then, I hang out with him, we talk, cuddle, and kiss and the thrill starts again.

I know, I know. I am crazy, but I like roller coasters in the same way that I like romance novels. The roller coaster is the romance novel. It is the fantasy. It is the chance that something good could happen. It is the chance that you could fall off the coaster and die. The major difference between the roller coaster and the romance novel is that in a romance novel, you know that the main characters are going to get a happily ever after. But even with a roller coaster, you know that the ride will end happily, with the riders getting off safely and going to buy their commemorative photos.

With this particular roller coaster, I don’t know when or if this ride is going to end, but for now, I’m having a good time. I don’t know if this will change my vision of happily ever after or if this is just a bump in the road. I do know that this time with my “distraction” has reminded how much I like riding the roller coaster and made me think that even if I don’t stay on this particular ride, I might try another one later.

Now, if only I could figure out how to balance my “distraction” and my writing.

If Life Were A Romance Novel….

Reality stinks. It really stinks. You wake up in the morning and think about how much you don’t want to go to work. Then, you look at the ceiling and realize that if you want to keep the ceiling over your head, you have to go. Sigh. Next, you arrive at work and sit in a boring meeting or listen to your boss talk about things that give you heartburn for eight hours, working between interruptions. If you’re single, you go home to an empty house or a houseful of roommates that you would really like to avoid. If you’re married, you go home to a husband and his dirty socks or to your kids and their litany of complaints. See reality stinks. Ok, ok….this might not be an everyday experience, but it is one that happens way too often for most people’s comfort.

Life would be better if it were a romance novel.

Every girl would have a hero and a happily ever after. Money wouldn’t be an issue. Small business owners wouldn’t have to worry about payroll or health insurance for their employees. Good looking, protective, honorable, single CEOs would be all over the place like autumn leaves. Ranchers and farmers would always have plenty of money. Women would always look like a million bucks and if they didn’t, the good looking CEO wouldn’t care. Love and marriage means forever.

Life would be better if it were a romance novel….or would it?

Every girl would have a major problem. A malicious stalker. A kidnapped child. A business about to be taken over. A fiancé who isn’t what he seems. An evil mother or sister that wants to cause problems. The world would be in constant peril from unseen forces, sometimes supernatural unseen forces. Every hero would have had a troubled childhood or been scarred forever by a woman. Yes, he has a successful career, but he doesn’t have anything that matters. He’s sworn off marriage, but he doesn’t really mean it. He’s just waiting for the right woman. Doesn’t that sound like a barrel of laughs for the poor unsuspecting heroine to deal with? Doesn’t she have enough problems with the malicious stalker, kidnapped child, failing business, and evil mother?

Suddenly, reality doesn’t seem to be quite that bad….

Clustering, Collaging, and storyboarding! Oh My!

Last weekend, I attended Moonlight and Magnolias. For more details on what I did there, visit my post on the Columbia Writers Workshop blog.

The most exciting part of my weekend was the Friday night workshop on plotting. You see, I'm in the process of plotting my NaNo (Yea! I love NaNoWriMo!) and I haven't completed the process yet. At the workshop, we learned three different methods that could be used for plotting our novels.

1. Collaging - Collaging is easy and simple. Anyone with a stack of magazines, a pair of scissors, a bottle of Elmer's glue, and a piece of poster board can collage. I think this would be an excellent method to use when the idea well went dry. Basically, you look through the magazines and when you see something that interests you, you rip it out. Then when you're done mutilating the magazines, you create your collage. You put the pictures, the words, or whatever you're using (you can use three dimensional or other items not found in magazines as well) on the board in a way that makes sense to you. You use it to write your story.
2. Clustering - Clustering uses even fewer materials than collaging. A large size piece of paper and a pen is all that you need to start clustering. You take your idea and you circle it in the middle of your page. From there, you web out, writing down whatever comes to your mind. NO EDITING!!! Just let your mind go and don't pick up the pen from the page. If you get stuck, keep making a circle around your words. The idea is that if your hand is still moving, your mind is still thinking. Eventually, you'll start thinking in a pattern and will be able to group like ideas together. I LOVE this method. I've been working on my current project using it since I got home from the conference. My book is being mapped out on a very large piece of butcher block paper. I have always used clustering (I called it spiderwebbing) when I created my characters. I never thought thought to use it when plotting. I've gotten so much done in less than a week. It is amazing.
3. Storyboarding- Storyboarding is what filmmakers use when they're making a movie. They draw out key scenes (maybe even all the scenes) and then write a short blurb about what is happening underneath the scenes. I think this would be a method you would want to use when you're almost done plotting. It is a great visual for a writer to have. The writer can look at the picture and see if they've written the scene or not. I was intrigued by this method.

I loved this workshop and got so much out of it! I loved all of the workshops at the conference. I plan on using all of them when I'm writing and then editing my NaNo.

Here are a few pictures from the Moonlight and Magnolias conference

Do you really want to be in my novel? Really?

I have a sticker that I got during Nano last year hanging in my cube (yes, I’m a cube farm dweller) at my day job. It says “Be nice to me or I’ll put you in my novel.” I like the sticker, but let me tell you that I have never put a single real person in my novel. Not once. There have been some people that I have been tempted to put in my novel and then have them die a horrible, horrible death, but I’ve never actually done it.

Its not even that I wouldn’t put real people in my novel or that I don’t want to put real people in my novel. It is that I can’t put them in my novel. I can start off with real people, but the characters tend to take on a life of their own and become unique in my head.

True story. About 10 years ago now, my father’s mother told me that my grandfather used to write her letters during World War II. One of them was on a roll of butcher paper. They weren’t really “dating” before the war, but when he came home they got married almost immediately. My father was born September 21, 1946, if that tells you anything.

I thought this was a great story so I resolved to write it as fiction. I planned on using my grandparents as characters. Almost immediately, my mind started twisting the story and the characters, supposedly based on my grandparents, in my head. My main female character is now pregnant by my main male character’s deceased cousin and my main male character is going to suffer a horrible wound in Africa. None of that actually happened. My grandmother joined the WAVES and served as a weapons inspector in Washington. My grandfather served until the end of the war, fighting in Africa, Italy, and France. He was a sergeant in the 2nd Armored Division and served under Patton. Even more than what happened to my characters is that my characters don’t act or think like my grandparents thought. This may be a good thing because who wants their grandparents or parents living in their heads like my characters do.

I haven’t written this book yet, but I still intend to. The novel that I wrote last year during Nano set up the world in which I’m going to put these characters. Maybe I’ll write in 2009 and dedicate it to my grandparents and their great stories, but then again maybe not.

My advice to anyone that asks an author to put them in their novel is…..Be afraid….Be very afraid. Because writers like to torture their characters and you might wind up pregnant, alone, poor, and trapped on an alien planet with only a dog that shifts into man form during full moons for a companion.

Olympic-sized Writing Challenge

I love the Olympics….The pageantry, the fanfare, the competition, the winners, the losers, and most importantly, the stories. There are some great stories this year. Dara Torres, a 41-year old mother, will be competing in her 5th Olympics (they weren’t even consecutive Olympics) as the world-record holder in the 50 meter freestyle swimming. Lopez Lomong, one of the Lost Boys of Sudan, is carrying the American flag in the opening ceremony and is competing in track and field for his adopted country, the United States of America. I can’t wait to here more!!

For weeks now, I’ve been watching the Visa commercials. Olympians overcoming overwhelming odds to do extraordinary things. I have two favorites. In the Kerri Strugg commercial, Morgan Freeman’s voice talks about the vault and its difficulty and then ends with “and she did it all on one foot.” The other is about a track and field runner from Great Britain that tore his hamstring on the track and with his father’s help finished the race. I’m really not sure how these commercials relate to Visa, but I love them. They are soooo inspiring.

The commercials tell me…you’re going to stumble, you’re going to fall. Get up and keep going. Writing is like that. You’re going to face rejection. You’re going to face writer’s block. You just have to keep moving forward and improving and eventually, you’re going to cross that finish line and maybe if you’re lucky, stand on that gold medal podium of success.

With that in mind, I am challenging anyone who wants to join me to stretch your limits for the next 18 days. My "event" is to finish a skeletal first draft of my current WIP. Writing THE END will be my gold medal!

My One Real Skill….Procrastination

I love to write.

I do.

Really, I do, but sometimes, the words just aren't there.

Here are some things that I do when the words aren't coming all that freely.

Blogging. To the untrained ear, this actually sounds like writing. I mean blog is a shortened form of web log. Sort of an electronic equivalent of a sailor's log book. A place to record (i.e. write) the day's occurrences. Ummm….Not the way I do it. See when I blog, I like to play around with the design of my template or someone else's template. Unless, you consider writing code, writing, this is an excellent tool for avoidance.

Knitting. Knitting is the newest way for me to avoid writing. Yarn is becoming an addiction. I'm now a regular attendee of a "Sit and Knit" at the local yarn store. I'm now making knitting friends so I can have more people to help me avoid writing.

Reading. I would venture to say that most writers love to read. I've decided to call my reading, research. Do you think that will work?

Making a Living. Unfortunately, this is the main culprit behind my recent lack of productivity on the "novella." My work has fallen on me and I'm trying to dig my way out. That being said. I like my job best when I have a lot to do so my hope is that in a couple of weeks, I will figure out how to balance the need to pay my bills and the desire to write competent fiction.

What do you do to procrastinate?

Tie It Up, Duct Tape It's Mouth, and Toss It In the Corner

Let’s sit down and be honest about this. Writing is hard and sometimes the people around you can make it even harder. When people you love and trust are negative, doubt can seep into your soul and you speculate about your abilities. “Am I good enough?” you ask and you hear the answer in your head. It comes in the form of your loved one’s voice and it says that you’re not.

You can’t let this stop you from writing. Trust me I know this to be true.

I have one relative that turns me into a flaming pillar of doubt. Unfortunately, this ability is not a newly acquired talent nor is it limited to my writing ability. Suffice it to say, I have never been nor will I ever be good enough. AT. ANYTHING.

In most situations, I can blow off a little negativity, but when it comes to writing, it is harder for me to do that.

Here are some tips that I have found to be especially helpful.

Surround yourself with other creative people. Join a writers group or find a critique partner. It is easier to believe in yourself when you see other people experiencing the same things you are. Other people’s unbiased opinions can take the sting out of your loved one’s negative views.

Learn to separate a personal attack from constructive criticism. It has taken me years to learn how to do this. The critiques that I get from my writers groups are offering opinions and advice on my work would be considered constructive criticism. These words provide you with an opportunity to improve your story. A loved one saying “I thought you could write” is a personal attack. Learning the difference has helped me focus on improvement rather than self-doubt.

Write what you love. Passion is the engine that powers you past the self-doubt generated by the negativity. If you want to write children’s fiction, you probably won’t be happy writing adult literary fiction. Loving what you write will keep you going even in the tough times.

Write for yourself. All of us dream of being published. I want to go to a bookstore and see my work in print, but even if that never happens, I will keep writing because when my writing is going well, it makes me happy. I’m not me without writing.

The most important tip is to keep writing. When the voice in your head tells you that you’re not good enough, tie it up, duct tape its mouth, and toss it in the corner. It can stay there until you’re published.

Pass the Plot 2, Scene 2

“Hurry up, Sneezy.” Doc shifted his grip around the edge of the cardboard box. The other dwarf ran down the stairs. Wind caught his chef’s hat and whisked it away. Doc just let it go. The putrid odor of rotting garbage tickled his nose. They were coming to the bottom of the stairs now. They had to get the mirror out of the castle. Doc’s feet pounded to the ground and he slid a little on the gravel.

“What are we going to do with this when we get back to the cottage?” Sneezy sounded out of breath. The other dwarf huffed and puffed and then…”Achoo.” There must be a cat nearby. Sneezy couldn’t be near them without getting congested in an instant. “There’s doh roob for a mee roar of dis size.” There was no room in the cottage for for a mirror of this size. Sneezy was right. Doc hadn’t thought that far ahead. He only knew that they had to get the mirror out of the castle.

“…someday when my dreams come true.“ The soprano voice pierced his eardrum before trailing off. Doc didn’t bother looking over to where the young princess was singing. He redoubled his pace and headed for the East Gate. He couldn’t let the prophecy come true.

“We’re not going to take it to the cottage.” Doc took a deep breath. They would take it to the mines. The would put it deep underground where the queen and her minions would never find it. “Get the gate will you, Sleepy?” Doc gestured to the third dwarf that had crept up behind them.

Sleepy opened the gate. There was a wagon filled with hay waiting just outside the castle walls. They tossed the mirror into the bed of the wagon and climbed in the back with it. Doc watched Sneezy remove his chef’s hat and replace it with his miner’s slouchy hat. Doc put on his own hat. Together, they shifted the box that contained the magical mirror until it was hidden in the hay. The wagon lurched away from the castle walls. They had to make it to the safety of the forest or all would be for naught.

“Are they coming after us, Doc?” Sneezy whispered. The younger dwarf looked terrified. He had good reason to be. Heads would roll if they were caught.

“I don’t know, Sneezy. I just don’t know.” Doc’s eyes searched the lane behind him as the wagon pulled into the traffic on the main road.

Writing is a Craft

Writing is more craft than innate talent, more discipline than intellectual gift. Yes, I’m stating the obvious, but sometimes we are viciously reminded of the truth. I’ve spent the last two weeks staring at a blank computer screen waiting for the first line of my Bite re-write to magically flow off my fingers onto the page.

Guess what happened?

You got it. Not a thing except that two weeks went by without me writing a word on my Bite. Last night I went to the library with Kalayna. I sat down at my computer, determined to pound out something…anything at all. So I did and about halfway down the page, stuck in the middle of a paragraph, there it was. The first line of my Bite. Finding the first line of my novella has enabled me to write the first two pages without further ado and all because I decided to stop waiting for the first line to magically appear.

My father was a basketball coach and a math teacher and he always told me that math and basketball were similar in at least one way. You have to practice to be good. I think I would add writing to this list.

With my awkward segue and attempt to relate writing and sports, I would like to leave you with a quote that I read this week from the Pittsburgh Steelers head coach, Mike Tomlin.

“The one common bond that the really successful people I've met have is they're ridiculous dreamers. I'm a ridiculous dreamer. Continue to dream. Don't let the reality of the world diminish those dreams.”

Pass the Plot, Scene 5

“The blood of ancient sorceresses runs through your veins. Surely you knew that, child.” Miranda laid a comforting hand on Rhea-Anne’s shoulder. Rhea-Anne could feel the tips of the woman’s claws biting into her shoulder.

“I didn’t know.” The words came out as a squeak. Rhea-Anne looked around the circle. The glowing creatures stared at her with varying degrees of dislike. Of all the fantastical stories that her Grammy had told her in her childhood, Rhea-Anne could have never imagined this. “ I swear I didn’t know.”

“I’m not sure that I can believe you, princess.” Lucas’s voice was raspy with disuse. Rhea-Anne looked down at her flexed toes. “Your kind has deceived us before.” He stroked down the side of her cheek with a claw. Her skin prickled with awareness. She sucked in a deep breath and almost choked on the water.

“I’m not a liar.” She said it when she caught her breath. The pressure in her chest eased.

“We believe you, sweetheart.” Miranda squeezed Rhea Anne’s shoulder and looked pointedly at Lucas. “If you would let me finish the story……”

Lucas backed away. Rhea Anne looked up. The blue eyes that slammed into her with the force of an oncoming freight train were decidedly human. She let out a loud gasp.

“Yes, my dear. We were once human.” Miranda’s voice grew louder so the other creatures could hear the story being told. “In 1588, we lived on Roanoke Island eking out a living. It was a hard winter and some of our men went out hunting and well they captured young Indian maiden.” Miranda paused as if lost in memory. ” We won’t speak of what they did to her, but suffice it to say that they paid with their lives. The Indian maiden was a powerful shaman. She found us, came into the town that we had built, and cursed us all to become this.” She gestured to the creatures surrounding them. “It was an instant transformation. For twenty years there was open war between us and we killed many of her tribe. When the new colonists came, we struck a bargain, a bargain that has been honored by your family for 400 years. “

A cacophony of voices rose up around them, the glow emanating from each one seemed to get brighter. Rhea-Anne gulped. These creatures hated her and she still didn’t know why.

Lucas growled and held up his hand. The creatures quieted. “The bargain demanded a blood sacrifice to be made by her descendants every 40 years for 400 years. You are the last sacrifice.” He stepped closer and his voice softened until only she could hear. “It must be done princess.”

“No, I can’t be. “ Rhea-Anne pushed the words past her lips. “I’m not Native American. I can’t be the descendant of this shaman lady.” Her lips tightened into a firm line.

“Then why are you here tonight, princess?”

Rhea-Anne had no answer.

Pass the Plot # 1, Scene 1

From Tori...

No special rules for this Pass the Plot. My fellow Tri Mu s can take the story in whatever direction they see fit. Hopefully, I don't kill this one before it begins.

***

The wind rustled the Spanish moss that hung from the cypress trees surrounding Rhea-Anne’s flat bottom boat. It cut between the trees and right through the thick leather of her jacket. She shivered as the cold air sliced into her skin. It hadn’t been so bad at dusk when she’d rowed to the middle of the swamp, but with each passing hour she grew colder and colder . If she had to stay here until dawn, she would be an ice sculpture.

She jumped a foot at the sound of splashing in the distance. The boat rocked and teetered nearly tipping her into the chilled water of the swamp. “Maybe it was just an alligator.” Rhea-Anne reassured herself aloud. Her hand gripped the locket that hung around her neck. The cold metal of the heirloom bit into her hand.
“Oh Grammy. You never told me that I would be this frightened.” She muttered the words under her breath. The sounds of night surrounded her. Chirping crickets. Croaking frogs. Lapping water. Hooting Owls. She started at every noise. “I just wish he would hurry and show up already. It’s the third moon of the fortieth year.”
Her eyes strained as she searched the darkness for any tell-tell movement. Grammy had told her not to worry that he would find her, but that didn’t stop her from looking. She loosened her grip on the locket and began running her thumb over the clasp. The locket was to be her identification when he found her. She didn’t want to lose it. She inhaled, taking air deep into her lungs before exhaling just as deeply. She needed to calm down. She concentrated on breathing In and out. In and out.

“Rhea-Anne Baker, I presume.” A voice hissed in her ear.

“Eek” Rhea-Anne flinched away from the sound of the voice. “Yes.” Her voice wavered a little. She swallowed the lump that had lodged into her throat. Her voice was firmer when she spoke this time. “Yes, I’m Rhea-Anne Baker. Here’s the Brantley locket” She moved her hand away from the locket so that it could be seen
A claw scraped down the side of her neck before lifting the chain so that he could get a better view. She felt the dry scrape of reptilian scales against her collarbone. She fought the urge to shudder.

The locket fell back onto her neck when he released the chain. The boat rocked a bit as he stepped away before steadying. “Rhea-Anne. You may call me Lucas.”