When typing is problematic, we do things the old-fashioned way. Got derailed on my current project, but post-it notes and a visual outline really got me back on track and sent my plot in a much stronger direction.
Then I got on a roll and had to outline two more projects that are traipsing through my head.
Today, I am a one-woman writing MACHINE. BooYAH!!
Have a great weekend – see ya on Monday, hopefully with a completed first draft!
I’m in the construction phase of the latest story, and that involves multiple outlines in multiple formats, snippets of scenes written down as they come into my head, lists with bullet points of important stuff that needs to happen, and eventually, only half of all of this will be of use. If I’m lucky. Continue reading
Oh, you guys . . .
The three new stories I have percolating are now down to two – mostly because story 3 just doesn’t have all the elements together yet and stories 1 and 2 are more fully-formed in my head. Now I have to decide which I move forward with. Continue reading
I had the pleasure of being interviewed over at Adventures in YA Publishing! Tune in to hear me talk about book inspiration, the publishing process, my ‘other’ self, and what’s coming next!
Catch the whole interview here.
I was watching Beauty and the Beast last night thinking to myself (foolishly) that I could put it on as “background noise” while I wrote. Instead, I ended up singing along.
Ohhhhh isn’t this amaaazing
It’s my favorite part beeecauuuse yoouuu seeee
Heeeeere’s where she meets Prince Charming
But she won’t discover that it’s him, till chapter threeeee
If you’re writing a YA book, it’s almost a sure thing that you’ve got a love story in there somewhere. In the case of my book, the love story is a central element – but by no means the entirety of the story.
I love a good love story. I am a hopeless, sappy romantic and a total sucker for a well-written love story, so when I came across an article by Nicholas Sparks listing the do’s and don’t’s of writing a love story, I knew I had to share it here. He’s known worldwide for his love stories, after all.
I especially like the point he makes about not writing a one-dimensional woman: Continue reading
In my novel, my main character travels to alternate realities and finds something interesting every time she crosses over. Sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it’s fantastical, and on one trip, things take a turn and she finds herself in a creepy abandoned house facing a group of men who aren’t going to let her out of there alive.
It’s very easy to write that she’s scared. It’s very easy to write that the men are menacing.
What isn’t easy is describing with great accuracy how frozen she feels, how she’s tasting blood in the back of her throat, how the sweat on her palms makes her want to wipe them on her knees, but she’s too afraid to move and bring his attention to her more than it already is.
I know, I know….I’m going old school here. But you have to know that I grew up reading old-school sci-fi, courtesy of an older brother who was a Star Trek fiend (and got me hooked as well). He handed me a dog-eared copy of The Martian Chronicles when I was eleven, and that was that. From that point, I read everything Ray Bradbury ever wrote. I went to Mars. I traveled through a moving mural on a wall into a veldt in Africa. I watched stories move in tattoos and flew with an April Witch. The man wrote dystopian futures and strange alternate worlds and influenced so much of what I wanted to capture in my own writing.
And here, in a lecture given in 2001, he gives twelve remarkable pointers to the young writers gathered at the Point Loma Nazarene University’s Writer’s Symposium By The Sea. I found a lot here that was so very spot-on helpful, but one point he made I’ve used over and over again as a writing exercise: Continue reading
So I was talking with my daughter yesterday about some of the differences between where I grew up and where I live now. I grew up in the desert Southwest (though my early years I was bouncing around – my dad was military), in a small New Mexico town. Now we live in semi-rural Pennsylvania, and the topography is more than a little different.
I was trying to describe to her the first time I saw fireflies. I was seventeen, and vacationing in Illinois at the home of some old family friends, when they all came out at dusk. I was blown away. I’d heard of them, of course (except, I think they called them ‘lightening bugs’ instead of fireflies) but to actually see one – let alone a whole yard full of them – was honest-to-God just a moment of magic.
The smell of cinnamon and apples.
The heat of the chili on her tongue while feeling the cool night air on her back.
Her long hair falling in her face as she shifts on the hard bench.
The feel of the splintered picnic table, rough against the undersides of her forearms as she watches the firelight play on his skin – and tries to keep from looking like she’s staring.
The slide of his jacket around her shoulders, still warm from being on his back as she smiles gratefully up at him.
We’ve set not just the scene, but the mood.