I'm sure all of you are aware that NaNoWriMo starts today. I thought about participating, but I just can't write that fast. I'm too much of a perfectionist. Yes, I realize getting over perfectionism is a really good reason to do NaNoWriMo, but I think it would be counterproductive for me. I tried it once, for a week and a half, and I wrote a lot (around 18,000 words). But I got so burnt out, I couldn't write anything for like a month. So, yeah, not happening.
I'm a pantser through and through, but I think I might be able to outline successfully if I really dedicate myself. So that's what I'm gonna do. I've had a story bouncing around in my head for several months now as I've been wrapping up the last round of rewrites on Embrol. And now that I'm querying Embrol--first query goes out today (yikes!)--Descent can finally have my undivided attention. Poor Descent. So neglected. ;)
Armed with my shiny new copy of Outlining Your Novel: Map Your Way to Success by K. M. Weiland, my goal is to have my whole story completely mapped out by the end of November. And the number one rule is NO WRITING. This will be hard so for me. Every time I try to outline I only make it through three or four chapters before I just want to get going on it already and then it's bye-bye outline and hello 7000 rewrites. :(
So, who's with me? Any pantsers out there who want to join me? Maybe we can form a support group. ;)
Good luck to everyone doing NaNo!
Showing posts with label Embrol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Embrol. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Blog Chain: Breakin' the Law
I get to start this round! Aren't you excited? Here's the topic I chose:
There are SO many writing rules, but sometimes we have to break one or two, just to keep things interesting. Is there a writing rule you've broken on purpose? Why did you choose to break it? And if you want to post a snippet of your writing as an example, even better!
Raise your hand if you've heard that piddly little rule about not opening with a dream? Everybody's heard that one, right? And it's a big one. I've lost count of how many agents have blogged that you just don't start with a dream. Bad, bad writer for starting with a dream. But that's exactly what I did.
Here's my reasoning, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, even if you disagree.
I didn't just pick some random dream to make the opening exciting. It's a dream the MC has had countless times and it's integral to many aspects of the story, most importantly, the relationship between the MC and the boy in the dream. And technically, my opening is a daydream of just a small part of that dream ('cause I like to make things complicated), so it doesn't really count as a dream, right? ;)
Oh, and I started with dialogue, which I've heard is also a no-no. Bad, bad writer. I know.
So, anyway, here are the first 250ish words, in all their rule breakin' glory. :)
*****
“Is this Heaven?” I asked.
Full first chapter here.
*****
So what about you, my bloggy friends? What rules have you broken? Why did you choose to break them?
Don't miss Kat's post tomorrow! :)
There are SO many writing rules, but sometimes we have to break one or two, just to keep things interesting. Is there a writing rule you've broken on purpose? Why did you choose to break it? And if you want to post a snippet of your writing as an example, even better!
Raise your hand if you've heard that piddly little rule about not opening with a dream? Everybody's heard that one, right? And it's a big one. I've lost count of how many agents have blogged that you just don't start with a dream. Bad, bad writer for starting with a dream. But that's exactly what I did.
Here's my reasoning, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, even if you disagree.
I didn't just pick some random dream to make the opening exciting. It's a dream the MC has had countless times and it's integral to many aspects of the story, most importantly, the relationship between the MC and the boy in the dream. And technically, my opening is a daydream of just a small part of that dream ('cause I like to make things complicated), so it doesn't really count as a dream, right? ;)
Oh, and I started with dialogue, which I've heard is also a no-no. Bad, bad writer. I know.
So, anyway, here are the first 250ish words, in all their rule breakin' glory. :)
*****
“Is this Heaven?” I asked.
My angel laughed, his eyes sparkling in the light from the two moons overhead. “Heaven? You’re messing with me, right?” A warm breeze rustled the field of glowing blossoms surrounding us and tousled his curls. He slipped his arms around my waist. “Okay. I’ll play. No, it’s not Heaven, but sometimes, it feels that way. Especially with you here.”
He leaned in, his scent filling the air around me. His lips brushed mine—
“Livy?” Patty’s quiet voice jerked me back to reality, from my attempt to escape to a happier place. Even if that world—and the boy I’d come to call my angel—existed only in my dreams. “It’s almost time.”
I glanced across the room at the casket—shiny black with silver handles. Elegant, according to Patty. Like that mattered. It would be buried underground, never to be seen again after today. And that wasn’t my mother in there.
Patty settled down on the arm of the loveseat and tucked my long bangs behind my ear. I resisted the urge to release them, so I could go back to hiding behind the auburn curtain they created.
“You sure you don’t want to see her?” she asked. “This is the last chance you’ll get.” She meant well. Just doing her job as my pseudo-grandmother and legal guardian. Well, that was what she would’ve been. If I hadn’t turned eighteen on the day my mother died.
Full first chapter here.
*****
So what about you, my bloggy friends? What rules have you broken? Why did you choose to break them?
Don't miss Kat's post tomorrow! :)
Monday, April 4, 2011
MUG Monday: The Blank Page
Hey, looky there! Abby wrote a blog post. A scheduled one even. Craziness. ;)
Okay, so some of you know I'm rewriting the first half of Embrol. Again. It really is never-ending. I cut 43,000 hard-earned words last week. Painful, but necessary. And I think it's getting better, closer to where it needs to be. Never mind that I've thought this before (more than once), and yet, here I am, doing another rewrite. *sigh*
Anyway.
I've been stuck for a couple of weeks on one scene. Of course, it's an action scene. For me, those scenes always require a lot of revision. I always put in too much emotion or too much detail or both and totally screw up the pacing in the first draft. My perfectionist brain can't handle this. Just the idea of writing an action scene makes it shut down and then, somehow, I'm checking my email. Or Facebook. Or anything besides working on that blasted action scene.
I tried to sit down and force myself to write it. I knew how I wanted it to go, so that wasn't the issue. It was just getting my fingers to type what I knew would be horrible, horrible words. I couldn't tarnish my previously "perfect" draft with such an awful scene.
The solution?
I opened a blank document and told myself it was okay if I screwed it up because it never had to touch the real document if I hated it. Three days later, I have a shiny new action scene that, at least for the moment, I think turned out pretty good. Such a simple solution. Too bad it took me so long to figure it out. :)
What about you? Any types of scenes that trip you up? What do you do to get unstuck?
And my Awesome Followers Giveaway is still going on! Don't miss it!
Okay, so some of you know I'm rewriting the first half of Embrol. Again. It really is never-ending. I cut 43,000 hard-earned words last week. Painful, but necessary. And I think it's getting better, closer to where it needs to be. Never mind that I've thought this before (more than once), and yet, here I am, doing another rewrite. *sigh*
Anyway.
I've been stuck for a couple of weeks on one scene. Of course, it's an action scene. For me, those scenes always require a lot of revision. I always put in too much emotion or too much detail or both and totally screw up the pacing in the first draft. My perfectionist brain can't handle this. Just the idea of writing an action scene makes it shut down and then, somehow, I'm checking my email. Or Facebook. Or anything besides working on that blasted action scene.
I tried to sit down and force myself to write it. I knew how I wanted it to go, so that wasn't the issue. It was just getting my fingers to type what I knew would be horrible, horrible words. I couldn't tarnish my previously "perfect" draft with such an awful scene.
The solution?
I opened a blank document and told myself it was okay if I screwed it up because it never had to touch the real document if I hated it. Three days later, I have a shiny new action scene that, at least for the moment, I think turned out pretty good. Such a simple solution. Too bad it took me so long to figure it out. :)
What about you? Any types of scenes that trip you up? What do you do to get unstuck?
And my Awesome Followers Giveaway is still going on! Don't miss it!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Blog Chain: Olivia's Fears
What is the main character of your current WiP most afraid of and why? Don’t use a previously finished work. This is all about discovering the inner motivations of your current characters – the ones you don’t know all that well yet.
I feel a little like a cheater since my current WIP is the project I've been working on for almost 2 1/2 years. Wait. What? Has it really been that long? Okay, no more figuring out how long I've been working on this project until it's time to query. Which will be soon. Very, very soon. Ahem. Moving on.
Even with as much time as I've spent with my MC, Olivia, I had to dig pretty deep to sort out what she's most afraid of. After she loses her mother, Olivia worries a lot about being alone and losing the rest of the people who are close to her. And she has good reason to be afraid of that since the bad guy is willing to hurt anyone to get to her.
Ultimately, though, I think her greatest fear is that she won't be able to live up to the expectations she has of herself and the ones that have been placed on her by outside forces, seemingly against her will. This is compounded by the fact that she's very independent and doesn't like to rely on other people to help her, so she puts a lot of pressure on herself to just handle it, even though this isn't always a possibility. Learning to accept help from others is a big part of her character arc, so I guess it makes perfect sense that her greatest fear would tie into that. I just never really thought about it before. :)
What is the main character of your current WIP most afraid of and why?
Be sure to check out Kat's post tomorrow. :)
Monday, August 16, 2010
Blog Chain: What's Up? and a Snippet
This chain was started by the fabulous Cole. She asked:
Are you querying? Gearing up to go on submission? Writing? Revising? I'd love to hear what's new with you. And if you'd like to share a snippet of your WIP, even better!
Technically, I'm drafting and revising, because the two are pretty much inseparable for me. And though I haven't written anything new in MSWord for several weeks, I do have a notebook I've been doing some scene mapping in. (I know! Me, outlining! Craziness! :)) I have the ending all mapped out, so once the kids go to Arizona on Saturday for a whole week, I think I can get the rest written. I'm so excited to be so close to finishing this draft. I'm dying to be querying this baby, and for me, revising is the easy part. Ask me about that in a few months and we'll see if my feelings about revising have changed. ;)
Now for my WIP snippet. I had a hard time finding something I hadn't posted yet that didn't give too much away and wasn't a million words long, but I think this scene is okay.
This is the end of chapter two of Embrol. If you're interested, you can read the first chapter here.
Just needs a little setup...
After a car accident, Olivia finds herself in a dream. Or maybe she's dead and now she's in Hell. Kole, demented bad guy, seems determined to convince her of the latter. She makes several failed attempts to wake up, but it isn’t until her mother's voice comes to her and tells her to focus on finding him that Olivia is finally able to escape. This is what happens next. (I hope that’s not too confusing. :))
**********
There was a tangible shift, and a warm breeze stirred my hair. A sweet, floral scent wafted up around me as I fell to the ground, leaves rustling around me. I stretched, surprised to find the bindings gone and the ache in my shoulders and back all but a dull memory. My fingers curled around the soft foliage beneath me. I smiled at my success, opening my eyes to stare up at a deep purple sky, illuminated by two moons. One was large and blue, the color of the Arizona sky at noon. The other overlapped it, dark red and much smaller—maybe a third the size of the first, similar to Earth’s moon.
Tall, blue stalks topped with strange, seven-petal flowers surrounded me. The light from the moons filtered through the translucent petals, casting shadows in a myriad of shades. Careful to keep the pressure off my broken arm, though that pain had faded as well, I rose to my feet and brushed my dress down, surprised to find it clean and unwrinkled.
The field of flowers stretched in every direction, but from this angle they reflected the light, giving the illusion I stood, waist deep, in the middle of a glistening sea. At the edge of the field, I could just make out what looked like three identical dome-shaped hills surrounded by odd-shaped trees.
Between me and the hills, something moved—a tall figure slowly making his way through the field. My brain screamed at me to run, but something held me there, nudging me forward, toward him. I resisted, taking small steps, searching for some way to escape. He stood well over six feet with broad shoulders and thick arms. At a distance, his features were barely distinguishable in the dim light, but the unruly curls covering his head shone like spun gold in the moonlight. As he came closer, he smiled, and his eyes caught the light. Familiar blue eyes. My angel.
“You’re here,” I whispered when he was close enough to hear.
He stopped directly in front me and lifted his hand. All thoughts of Kole and the preceding nightmare faded as warmth trickled into me from his fingertips, slightly rough but gentle on my face. I laid my hand over his, pressing his palm to my cheek. Heat and an almost overwhelming sense of fullness radiated from his touch. The world seemed brighter, though it was still night. Absently, I realized my broken arm moved freely, all traces of pain gone.
He leaned down and rested his forehead on mine. “Of course I’m here,” he said. “Just as I promised.”
Promised? Before I could ask what he meant, he raised his other hand to hold my face and pressed his lips firmly to mine. The heat from his touch held nothing next to the fire from that kiss. It was brief, only a few seconds, but my heart fluttered and my knees threatened to give out as he released my lips and lowered his hands to my shoulders.
I opened my mouth to protest the kiss, to tell him he had no right, but there was something so perfect about that moment, I couldn’t form the words.
“Olivia? You okay?” He wore the tiniest hint of a smile on his full lips, his eyes warm and inviting.
I could lose myself in those… I forced my gaze back to the flowers. “What is this place?”
“Hielos.” He said the strange word slowly. Hee-lohs. “Our home. You know that.”
I do? I studied the world around me. It felt familiar, like I should know it, but I was sure I’d never been here before. When my gaze returned to his face, he was watching me so intently, I couldn’t think. I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Is this Heaven?”
He laughed. “You’re messing with me, right…? Okay. I’ll play. No, it’s not Heaven, but sometimes, it feels that way, especially when you’re here.” His arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight to his chest. He smelled of spearmint and soap, and something I couldn’t put a name to—something deliciously unique to him. I took a deep breath, wishing I could bottle that scent and carry it with me always. He kissed the top of my head. “I wish you could stay.”
I wanted to stay, more than anything else, though I didn’t understand why. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You must go back.” He stepped away from me, his hands sliding down my arms to wrap his fingers around mine. “Time is running out.”
Memories of Kole and pain came rushing back. My fingers tightened on his, and I shook my head. “Please, I want to stay here with you.”
“You must go back.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “I can’t.”
He smiled and leaned down, brushing my hair back to whisper in my ear. “It’s time, Olivia. Wake up.”
**********
Thanks for reading! So, what's up with you? Where are you in your writing process?
Be sure to check out what's up with Shaun. And I'm the last link in the chain this round, but Eric starts the new chain tomorrow. I'm sure he'll have something awesome to ask us. :)
Monday, May 31, 2010
Procrastination
I have several HUGE projects I should be working on, but of course, this is what got done instead. :) Though I did write 900 shiny new words last night. First new writing I've done in over a month. Woohoo!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Last Line Blogfest
This is the end of the first chapter of my YA sci-fi novel, Embrol. You can read the beginning of this chapter here. Check out the other Last Line Blogfest posts here.
Just a little setup. The MC, Olivia, and her mother have just been in a car accident that flipped their car. Olivia’s feeling a little disoriented for some reason. ;) And I’ve been told by a couple of betas that this scene is a little graphic, so you have been warned. Enjoy!
----------------
“Mom?” Was that shrill voice mine?
She didn’t answer. Her upturned hand lay in front of my face amid a mass of auburn hair—mine or hers, I couldn’t tell. Blood oozed into the gaps, pooling around her hand. I reached a trembling hand out to hers. My fingers brushed her palm and recoiled, my stomach lurching.
How can she feel so empty? The image of her face as her head struck, flashed in my mind—her eyes, so blue and so vacant.
A whimpering rose within me. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. I clawed at the steering wheel, the frame of the windshield, trying to free myself from the nightmare around me. My legs refused to cooperate, and every movement brought more pain, shooting through my torso and radiating out to my arms and my neck.
“Be calm. Help is on the way.” A woman crouched in front of the windshield and patted my hand. I jerked it away. That was how Mom’s hand should’ve felt—warm, pulsing with life. Tears formed in the woman’s eyes before she stood and walked away. She spoke to someone in a low voice, but I couldn’t make out the words. Clouds crowded my vision, dark shadows creeping into the corners. Sound came in spurts. Sirens, soft in the distance, then nothing—they blared closer, then nothing. An invisible weight pressed down on my chest.
Something warm brushed my hand, pulling my eyes open.
The face of a beautiful, blue-eyed angel hovered before me, the jagged edges of the windshield creating a halo around his golden curls. I opened my mouth to ask who he was, but my subconscious whispered I already knew the answer. If I could just remember…
“Olivia,” he said, his deep voice soft and comforting. The chaos around us faded away, as if only the two of us existed. My eyes slid closed, and for a moment, I was there beside him, examining the wreckage. I saw myself, my head pinned between the seat and the roof of the car, blood trickling a grisly mask over my face, my body bent in places it wasn’t meant to bend. Mom hung next to me, her petite frame held upside down by her seatbelt. Her body was clean, no blood except for the puddle around her hand. Her head rested against the roof, twisted at an unnatural angle, her eyes open, staring.
Pain shot through my chest, yanking me back to my body as a scream—my scream—shredded my eardrums. Piercing agony worked its way into every cell, throbbing with each beat of my heart. The clouds thickened, blanketing my vision, and I hovered somewhere between the light and the dark. The thread holding me there, the one I clung to so desperately, slipped in my grasp. I could think of nothing but the pain, and how it would all disappear if I could only let go.
“Olivia,” the angel whispered. Warmth flowed into me from his fingertips against my cheek. “Come back to me.”
He pulled his hand away, and the world turned black.
----------------
Thanks for reading! :)
Just a little setup. The MC, Olivia, and her mother have just been in a car accident that flipped their car. Olivia’s feeling a little disoriented for some reason. ;) And I’ve been told by a couple of betas that this scene is a little graphic, so you have been warned. Enjoy!
----------------
“Mom?” Was that shrill voice mine?
She didn’t answer. Her upturned hand lay in front of my face amid a mass of auburn hair—mine or hers, I couldn’t tell. Blood oozed into the gaps, pooling around her hand. I reached a trembling hand out to hers. My fingers brushed her palm and recoiled, my stomach lurching.
How can she feel so empty? The image of her face as her head struck, flashed in my mind—her eyes, so blue and so vacant.
A whimpering rose within me. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. I clawed at the steering wheel, the frame of the windshield, trying to free myself from the nightmare around me. My legs refused to cooperate, and every movement brought more pain, shooting through my torso and radiating out to my arms and my neck.
“Be calm. Help is on the way.” A woman crouched in front of the windshield and patted my hand. I jerked it away. That was how Mom’s hand should’ve felt—warm, pulsing with life. Tears formed in the woman’s eyes before she stood and walked away. She spoke to someone in a low voice, but I couldn’t make out the words. Clouds crowded my vision, dark shadows creeping into the corners. Sound came in spurts. Sirens, soft in the distance, then nothing—they blared closer, then nothing. An invisible weight pressed down on my chest.
Something warm brushed my hand, pulling my eyes open.
The face of a beautiful, blue-eyed angel hovered before me, the jagged edges of the windshield creating a halo around his golden curls. I opened my mouth to ask who he was, but my subconscious whispered I already knew the answer. If I could just remember…
“Olivia,” he said, his deep voice soft and comforting. The chaos around us faded away, as if only the two of us existed. My eyes slid closed, and for a moment, I was there beside him, examining the wreckage. I saw myself, my head pinned between the seat and the roof of the car, blood trickling a grisly mask over my face, my body bent in places it wasn’t meant to bend. Mom hung next to me, her petite frame held upside down by her seatbelt. Her body was clean, no blood except for the puddle around her hand. Her head rested against the roof, twisted at an unnatural angle, her eyes open, staring.
Pain shot through my chest, yanking me back to my body as a scream—my scream—shredded my eardrums. Piercing agony worked its way into every cell, throbbing with each beat of my heart. The clouds thickened, blanketing my vision, and I hovered somewhere between the light and the dark. The thread holding me there, the one I clung to so desperately, slipped in my grasp. I could think of nothing but the pain, and how it would all disappear if I could only let go.
“Olivia,” the angel whispered. Warmth flowed into me from his fingertips against my cheek. “Come back to me.”
He pulled his hand away, and the world turned black.
----------------
Thanks for reading! :)
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
WIP Wednesday—I'm a Quitter
For the most part, unplugging was actually very productive. In the first eight days, I added 19,000 words to my WIP. (4200 of those words were all in one day!) Overall, not as much as I was hoping for, but I generally have pretty unrealistic expectations of myself. So the first week went well. The next five days? I whined about those yesterday, so I won't get into again. Just know that they were less productive than the first eight days. Though I will say that my total word count for the whole stretch was 20,541. This number makes me smile. :)
My conclusion? Unplugging for a week is good, but anything beyond that turns me into a crazy lady. I need my blogging outlet and to feel like I'm not all alone in this. I missed you guys!
What do you think? Unplugging—good or bad? Any progress to report? Any fabulous news to share?
Contest/blogfest linky post tomorrow. If you're having a contest or blogfest you'd like me to include, let me know. :)
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Stuck
I'm writing this post just to write something, since I've barely been able to to squeeze out 1500 words over the last five days. And I literally had to force those out. Did I mention that they all suck too?
This isn't writer's block. This is scene block. I'm at the turning point in my story where it starts to build toward the climax, but I can't seem to figure out how to end this stupid scene. And how this scene ends determines the rest of the story, so I can't even skip ahead and work on something else.
I've restarted four times, but I'm still not happy with it. Of those 1500 words I mentioned earlier, I probably won't be keeping any of them, and it isn't a matter of word choice or not liking the writing. It just doesn't feel right. I can't tell if I'm just brain dead and burnout from how much effort I've been putting into this over the last couple of weeks or if something is seriously off in my plot.
Normally, I can discuss it with my husband and figure it out, but for some reason, I can't seem to articulate the problem. I don't even want to work on revising what I already have written, which I normally love to do. This is getting serious, people!
I'm considering plugging back in (this post doesn't count) and ignoring the beast for a week or two, and then trying again. But I want to be done. :( Done, done, done! (Yes, I'm stomping my foot like a toddler.)
The most annoying thing? I thought I had the plot solid, but I change one little thing... Argh!
Anyway.
So, how are all of you doing? :) Anything exciting happen while I was away? You all got book deals, didn't you? That always happens!
This isn't writer's block. This is scene block. I'm at the turning point in my story where it starts to build toward the climax, but I can't seem to figure out how to end this stupid scene. And how this scene ends determines the rest of the story, so I can't even skip ahead and work on something else.
I've restarted four times, but I'm still not happy with it. Of those 1500 words I mentioned earlier, I probably won't be keeping any of them, and it isn't a matter of word choice or not liking the writing. It just doesn't feel right. I can't tell if I'm just brain dead and burnout from how much effort I've been putting into this over the last couple of weeks or if something is seriously off in my plot.
Normally, I can discuss it with my husband and figure it out, but for some reason, I can't seem to articulate the problem. I don't even want to work on revising what I already have written, which I normally love to do. This is getting serious, people!
I'm considering plugging back in (this post doesn't count) and ignoring the beast for a week or two, and then trying again. But I want to be done. :( Done, done, done! (Yes, I'm stomping my foot like a toddler.)
The most annoying thing? I thought I had the plot solid, but I change one little thing... Argh!
Anyway.
So, how are all of you doing? :) Anything exciting happen while I was away? You all got book deals, didn't you? That always happens!
Friday, April 2, 2010
First Page Blogfest
It's blogfest time! This is the first page of my novel, Embrol. Be sure to follow the link below to Kelly Lyman's blog and check out the other posts. :)
-------------
1 The End
Three seconds. That’s how long it took for my life to end.
Well, it was an end of sorts. And it might’ve taken longer. I suppose it depends on which point was the actual end. Some might say it was the first or second or third time I died. For me, it was the moment I saw that truck barreling toward us. A girl really should have better memories of her eighteenth birthday.
The day started gray—beautiful and dark. A rare occurrence in Mesa, Arizona, and my absolute favorite kind of day. Okay, so it actually started with a stomach ache, but I did my best to ignore the lump in my gut as I walked to my locker after second period. I always had that something-isn’t-right feeling on the days I officially became a year older, but something about this year was different, though I couldn’t figure out what.
“How’s my favorite redhead on this lovely December morning?” Trevor hooked his arm around my neck and gave me his cheesiest grin. Fat drops began to fall from the sky, drumming the metal roof and muffling the chatter of the students filling the outdoor locker area.
I popped two more antacids in my mouth and slammed my locker shut, catching the tip of my finger. “Dang it! Lovely December morning?” I said, sucking on my finger. “What are you? Forty?”
“Not cool, Livy. You make me promise to be nice and when I do, all I get is crap from you?”
“Yeah. Nice for one day. That’s it. Not a complete personality change. I love you just the way you are.” Those words came out more from habit than anything else, but I regretted them as soon as they left my lips.
“Heh. That was way easier than I thought it would be.” His hand curled around my upper arm, and he let out a high-pitched whistle that made me wish I didn’t have ears. About a million heads swung toward us.
If only I could melt into the concrete on demand.
---------------
That's it! :) Check out the others here.
-------------
1 The End
Three seconds. That’s how long it took for my life to end.
Well, it was an end of sorts. And it might’ve taken longer. I suppose it depends on which point was the actual end. Some might say it was the first or second or third time I died. For me, it was the moment I saw that truck barreling toward us. A girl really should have better memories of her eighteenth birthday.
The day started gray—beautiful and dark. A rare occurrence in Mesa, Arizona, and my absolute favorite kind of day. Okay, so it actually started with a stomach ache, but I did my best to ignore the lump in my gut as I walked to my locker after second period. I always had that something-isn’t-right feeling on the days I officially became a year older, but something about this year was different, though I couldn’t figure out what.
“How’s my favorite redhead on this lovely December morning?” Trevor hooked his arm around my neck and gave me his cheesiest grin. Fat drops began to fall from the sky, drumming the metal roof and muffling the chatter of the students filling the outdoor locker area.
I popped two more antacids in my mouth and slammed my locker shut, catching the tip of my finger. “Dang it! Lovely December morning?” I said, sucking on my finger. “What are you? Forty?”
“Not cool, Livy. You make me promise to be nice and when I do, all I get is crap from you?”
“Yeah. Nice for one day. That’s it. Not a complete personality change. I love you just the way you are.” Those words came out more from habit than anything else, but I regretted them as soon as they left my lips.
“Heh. That was way easier than I thought it would be.” His hand curled around my upper arm, and he let out a high-pitched whistle that made me wish I didn’t have ears. About a million heads swung toward us.
If only I could melt into the concrete on demand.
---------------
That's it! :) Check out the others here.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Aw. She's Growing Up...
Important stuff first. My first 750 words are up on Fiction Groupie for Beta Club if you want to check it out. Any feedback would be awesome and appreciated. :)
Now for the real post.
I have always been and probably always will be a pantser—for the first draft anyway. I love not knowing exactly where things are headed in my story. It keeps me motivated and moving forward. But this rewrite has been much more challenging. Even though I've added/removed a few characters, changed a lot of the plot and rearranged the scenes a bit, overall, I know what needs to happen. For some reason though, I haven't been able to keep it straight in my head, and I find myself wanting to jump forward so I don't forget something important.
So I finally broke down and did it. I made an outline. My very first one. I know. I'm so proud of myself. :D I don't remember where I first saw this method, but it worked very well for me. I just made a list of everything I knew needed to happen, wrote each event on a Post-it and then arranged them like a puzzle on my shiny new whiteboard. (Did I mention I LOVE whiteboards?) It was actually kind of fun.
Doesn't it look pretty? I still have four key scenes that I'm not sure about where they will fit best, but the beauty of this method is I can rearrange things whenever I want. Feels much less restricting than how I've thought of outlining in the past.
So what about you? Do you outline, or are you a devoted pantser?
Now for the real post.
I have always been and probably always will be a pantser—for the first draft anyway. I love not knowing exactly where things are headed in my story. It keeps me motivated and moving forward. But this rewrite has been much more challenging. Even though I've added/removed a few characters, changed a lot of the plot and rearranged the scenes a bit, overall, I know what needs to happen. For some reason though, I haven't been able to keep it straight in my head, and I find myself wanting to jump forward so I don't forget something important.
So I finally broke down and did it. I made an outline. My very first one. I know. I'm so proud of myself. :D I don't remember where I first saw this method, but it worked very well for me. I just made a list of everything I knew needed to happen, wrote each event on a Post-it and then arranged them like a puzzle on my shiny new whiteboard. (Did I mention I LOVE whiteboards?) It was actually kind of fun.
Doesn't it look pretty? I still have four key scenes that I'm not sure about where they will fit best, but the beauty of this method is I can rearrange things whenever I want. Feels much less restricting than how I've thought of outlining in the past.
So what about you? Do you outline, or are you a devoted pantser?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday Teaser
This is the beginning of the newest scene in my rewrite of EMBROL. I left it out of the original version for several reasons, but mainly because I was too chicken to write it. Now I can't see how that version ever worked without it. Crazy how that happens, huh?
Thanks for reading!
-------
I sat in the loveseat farthest from the viewing area. The casket was shiny black will silver handles. Patty said it was elegant, like it mattered. It would be buried underground, never to be seen again after today, and that wasn’t my mother in there.
Patty settled down on the arm of the loveseat and laid her hand over mine. “It’s almost time. You sure you don’t want to see her? This is the last chance you’ll get.”
“I don’t want to remember her like that. She knows how I feel.” I bit my lip and stared at my hands. I will not cry here in front of everyone.
Patty had chosen one of the larger viewing rooms, knowing there would be a large turnout, but she couldn’t have expected this many people. The chapel would be overflowing with all the people my mother touched in her life. A great tribute to her, but I would’ve rather spent the day alone.
The loveseat shifted under the weight of someone sitting down beside me. Familiar fingers wrapped around mine.
“No worries, Patty,” Trevor said. “I got her.”
Patty ran her hand over my hair. “Think about it, dear. You still have a few minutes.”
I watched her feet walk away and laid my head on Trevor’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Aw, c’mon. Don’t cry, Strawberry. I’m here now.”
I couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t called me that in years. That was the nickname he’d given me on the day we met—Strawberry Shortcake. That night I’d insisted my mom buy me strawberry-scented shampoo.
“See there,” he said. “I knew you needed me. Where’s Amber?”
“Her mom dragged her off to help set something up.”
“She should be in here with you.”
“It’s okay. She was getting all smothery like Patty. They just don’t get that I don’t want to talk about it. I’m glad you’re here. Are you alone? Where’s Brooke?”
“I broke up with her.”
“Broke up? Why? You guys were so cute together. You’ve got to stop sabotaging all your relationships.”
“You’re lecturing me about my relationships? Here?”
“And to think I was actually distracted for a second. Thanks for reminding me where I am.” I dabbed at the corners of my eyes. “You’d think the tears would run out, eventually.”
“I’m sorry, Liv. I never know when to keep my mouth shut. You don’t need to worry about me and my love life. I’ve got you. That’s all I need right now. Best girlfriend, remember?”
I snuggled closer. As aggravating as he could be, at least I could always count on him to stay the same. Even when everything else around me was falling apart.
“You want a distraction? I’ll see what I can do… Okay, you see that blonde over in the corner? The tall one? She was totally checking me out before I came over here.”
Leave it to Trevor to try to distract me by talking about girls. I stopped listening. My gaze was drawn back to the casket. A tall man stood next to it with his back to me. He had short, dark hair, and he wore a white dress shirt and black slacks like several of the men here. There was nothing distinct about him that I could see, but his stance was familiar. He glanced over his shoulder toward the door.
Add a streak of white hair over his ear and he could be… I shot to my feet and started toward him.
Trevor’s grip tightened on my hand, holding me back. “Livy? Where are you going? I thought you didn’t want to go over there.”
I mumbled something incoherent and wrenched my fingers from his grasp. He said something behind me, but my focus was on the dark man before me. I knew it was impossible. Daddy would’ve been at least twenty years older if he were still alive.
Before I’d taken three steps toward him, he kissed his fingertips and pressed them to my mother’s lips, then turned and hurried toward the door.
Thanks for reading!
-------
I sat in the loveseat farthest from the viewing area. The casket was shiny black will silver handles. Patty said it was elegant, like it mattered. It would be buried underground, never to be seen again after today, and that wasn’t my mother in there.
Patty settled down on the arm of the loveseat and laid her hand over mine. “It’s almost time. You sure you don’t want to see her? This is the last chance you’ll get.”
“I don’t want to remember her like that. She knows how I feel.” I bit my lip and stared at my hands. I will not cry here in front of everyone.
Patty had chosen one of the larger viewing rooms, knowing there would be a large turnout, but she couldn’t have expected this many people. The chapel would be overflowing with all the people my mother touched in her life. A great tribute to her, but I would’ve rather spent the day alone.
The loveseat shifted under the weight of someone sitting down beside me. Familiar fingers wrapped around mine.
“No worries, Patty,” Trevor said. “I got her.”
Patty ran her hand over my hair. “Think about it, dear. You still have a few minutes.”
I watched her feet walk away and laid my head on Trevor’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Aw, c’mon. Don’t cry, Strawberry. I’m here now.”
I couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t called me that in years. That was the nickname he’d given me on the day we met—Strawberry Shortcake. That night I’d insisted my mom buy me strawberry-scented shampoo.
“See there,” he said. “I knew you needed me. Where’s Amber?”
“Her mom dragged her off to help set something up.”
“She should be in here with you.”
“It’s okay. She was getting all smothery like Patty. They just don’t get that I don’t want to talk about it. I’m glad you’re here. Are you alone? Where’s Brooke?”
“I broke up with her.”
“Broke up? Why? You guys were so cute together. You’ve got to stop sabotaging all your relationships.”
“You’re lecturing me about my relationships? Here?”
“And to think I was actually distracted for a second. Thanks for reminding me where I am.” I dabbed at the corners of my eyes. “You’d think the tears would run out, eventually.”
“I’m sorry, Liv. I never know when to keep my mouth shut. You don’t need to worry about me and my love life. I’ve got you. That’s all I need right now. Best girlfriend, remember?”
I snuggled closer. As aggravating as he could be, at least I could always count on him to stay the same. Even when everything else around me was falling apart.
“You want a distraction? I’ll see what I can do… Okay, you see that blonde over in the corner? The tall one? She was totally checking me out before I came over here.”
Leave it to Trevor to try to distract me by talking about girls. I stopped listening. My gaze was drawn back to the casket. A tall man stood next to it with his back to me. He had short, dark hair, and he wore a white dress shirt and black slacks like several of the men here. There was nothing distinct about him that I could see, but his stance was familiar. He glanced over his shoulder toward the door.
Add a streak of white hair over his ear and he could be… I shot to my feet and started toward him.
Trevor’s grip tightened on my hand, holding me back. “Livy? Where are you going? I thought you didn’t want to go over there.”
I mumbled something incoherent and wrenched my fingers from his grasp. He said something behind me, but my focus was on the dark man before me. I knew it was impossible. Daddy would’ve been at least twenty years older if he were still alive.
Before I’d taken three steps toward him, he kissed his fingertips and pressed them to my mother’s lips, then turned and hurried toward the door.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
WIP Wednesday
Thanks for all the great suggestions yesterday! You guys are awesome. The wheels are turning now and I have a few posts brewing, but nothing that's ready today. So I figured, why not do a WIP post, as per Dawn's suggestion. Thanks, Dawn!
I was looking back over my posts and noticed I haven't done one of these since mid-November. And that post was all about finishing my revisions and sending out queries. After receiving a couple of rejections, I realized that even though I'd done countless revisions, there wasn't any way to get that version of the story into shape just by doing revisions. So I decided to start over from scratch—same concept with better writing (I hope), stronger voice, and major plot changes to improve the characterization and tension throughout.
This decision was made around the middle of December. Since then I've managed to squeeze out a measly 8000 words. And it's not like the very first draft where I had no clue where I was headed. I have a basic idea for the whole story in my head, I just can't seem to get it down on paper. Granted, I did have the move to deal with, but I also had a whole month without internet. I should've gotten a lot of writing done, right? In theory, yes.
BUT.
I'm finding that my process has a lot to do with stress and my need to use my writing to escape it. Since we've been here, my stress levels are much, much lower. Don't misunderstand—lack of stress is awesome—it's just another thing to adjust to since being here. You learn to live with something long enough, good or bad, it's going to take a while to adjust to living without it.
So I guess I'm figuring it out, and getting back into my regular blogging schedule will help, I think. It keeps the brainstorming going, which often leads to new ideas and solutions for plot issues that direct thinking can't always find. And reading all of your blogs sparks new ideas too.
What about all of you? Any progress to report? Any awesome news you want to share?
And if you'll kindly look to your right, you'll see that my followers have reached triple digits. I can't believe it! Be sure to check back Friday. I'm going to try and come up with something awesome to celebrate. Maybe even something involving flying monkeys. :)
I was looking back over my posts and noticed I haven't done one of these since mid-November. And that post was all about finishing my revisions and sending out queries. After receiving a couple of rejections, I realized that even though I'd done countless revisions, there wasn't any way to get that version of the story into shape just by doing revisions. So I decided to start over from scratch—same concept with better writing (I hope), stronger voice, and major plot changes to improve the characterization and tension throughout.
This decision was made around the middle of December. Since then I've managed to squeeze out a measly 8000 words. And it's not like the very first draft where I had no clue where I was headed. I have a basic idea for the whole story in my head, I just can't seem to get it down on paper. Granted, I did have the move to deal with, but I also had a whole month without internet. I should've gotten a lot of writing done, right? In theory, yes.
BUT.
I'm finding that my process has a lot to do with stress and my need to use my writing to escape it. Since we've been here, my stress levels are much, much lower. Don't misunderstand—lack of stress is awesome—it's just another thing to adjust to since being here. You learn to live with something long enough, good or bad, it's going to take a while to adjust to living without it.
So I guess I'm figuring it out, and getting back into my regular blogging schedule will help, I think. It keeps the brainstorming going, which often leads to new ideas and solutions for plot issues that direct thinking can't always find. And reading all of your blogs sparks new ideas too.
What about all of you? Any progress to report? Any awesome news you want to share?
And if you'll kindly look to your right, you'll see that my followers have reached triple digits. I can't believe it! Be sure to check back Friday. I'm going to try and come up with something awesome to celebrate. Maybe even something involving flying monkeys. :)
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Fight Scene Blogfest!
I was really sad I missed out on the kiss and almost-kiss blogfests. All the good stuff always happens when I'm gone. Boohoo. I know. Poor me. ;)
So I'm excited that I get to participate in the Fight Scene Blogfest. Thanks for the linkage, Tere!
This is a scene from my old version of EMBROL, so I'm not totally happy with the writing. Though I don't seem to be happy with much of my writing lately, so yeah. We'll save that discussion for another day.
Just a little background: The heroine, Olivia, has gone to the hospital to visit her friend who was injured by the bad guy, even though Jack (the hero) is certain the bad guy, Kole, will be there waiting for her and says he won't allow her to go. Besides being furious with Jack for trying to control her, her loyalty to her friend supersedes any fear she might have of Kole, and she sneaks out of the house without Jack's knowledge. She is just discovering her powers and is not equipped to protect herself against someone with training. This scene starts as she reaches the parking lot after visiting her friend. Her best friend, Amber, is supposed to be waiting for her to drive her back to Jack's house.
****
At first, I didn’t see the man standing in front of Amber, hidden by the van next to her truck. She looked like she was talking to someone, but I thought she was on her cell phone.
I waved my arm, trying to get her attention. “Amber?”
She spun around, her eyes wide, terrified. That’s when I noticed him. Tall and dark, his black eyes full of cruelty and hatred. I took an involuntary step back. Kole.
Amber took a step toward me. “Run, Li—”
Kole slammed her head into the side of the truck without even touching her. Her limp body slumped to the ground.
Before I could react, an iridescent strand of air flew out from his hand, expanding to envelop a car twenty feet away in a thin, shimmering sheet of air. The car hurtled toward me. Abrupt movement to my right drew my attention. A second car flew up and collided with the first, pushing it away from me at the last possible second. I jumped out of the way, but not before it grazed my arm, knocking me flat on my back. The cars crashed down with a resounding crunch of metal and glass not far from where Kole stood near Amber’s truck. A sudden, steady pulse of blaring car alarms filled the air. My chest tightened at the thought of Amber being in the line of that. I had to get her away from there.
A warm stickiness slid down my right arm. A long, deep gash ran along the top of it. I glanced around as I pulled myself up on my hands and knees, my shoulder throbbing with every movement. He was nowhere in sight. I clambered to my feet and ducked behind a nearby van, falling to my knees again.
I crawled along the ground, struggling to catch my breath, and listened for his approach. I was exhausted, like I’d been running for miles with no rest. My heart pounded in my ears, and gasoline fumes burned my nose with each erratic breath. I fought to calm down, to get a better assessment of the situation.
The car alarms abruptly ceased, leaving complete silence. My throat constricted at the sound of quick footsteps.
A man in a security uniform stepped around the front of the van, holding a stun gun. “Are you okay? You need to get out of here. There was an explosion or something. It’s not safe.”
I shook my head and shooed him away. “You need to get out of here.” I nodded toward the stun gun. “That thing isn’t going to help you.”
“Come out, Olivia.” Kole’s deep voice had a singsong quality to it. It made my skin crawl. “Let’s finish this. Then I’ll leave your insignificant human friends alone. You’re only hurting them by remaining hidden.”
The security guard inched toward me.
“Go,” I whispered. “Please.” Tears of frustration poured down my face. What have I done coming here?
The security guard tugged on my arm, refusing to leave without me. I fell back as the van lifted into the air.
Kole’s lips curled up as he wound a shimmering strand of air around the man’s neck. A shiver went through me at the sound of bones cracking.
“Stop! Please!” I reached out, without thought, and struck Kole with a wall of air, knocking him back. The van crashed to the ground less than two feet from me. The realization came to me that I’d been the one to block the car he tried to kill me with. Every time I used my powers, I felt more drained, and my energy was fading quickly.
I ran to the man’s crumpled body and placed my fingers on his neck. The faintest pulse beat against my fingers. Relief flooded through me. I delved deeper, repairing the damage to his neck and his windpipe. His eyes didn’t open, but his pulse was stronger. I stood, hoping I’d done enough to save him. My head swam with exhaustion. I found a hiding place behind another car a little closer to Amber. The smell of gasoline was stronger there. I looked down to see it pooling around my feet.
Slipping around the front of the car, I made my way to Amber. I tried to be quiet, but my feet sloshed as I walked through the ever growing puddle. I kept my body low as I came around the front of her truck. Amber lay unconscious, her clothes drenched with gas. She had a long cut down the side of her face and her blood mixed with the fuel, making a swirling red halo around her head. I squatted and lifted her head, placing my fingers on her neck. Her pulse was weak but present, and her chest rose and fell with breath, much to my relief.
I put my hand to the wound on her face and felt for the damage. The bone wasn’t broken, but the wound extended high up into her hair, and I could feel the swelling on the inside of her skull. I closed my eyes, repeating what I’d done earlier with Jack. When I opened my eyes the wound was closed. Amber stared up at me.
I put my finger to my lips and motioned for her to get up. “We have to get out of here.”
“What is going on, Livy?” She stumbled getting to her feet.
“I’ll explain everything, but I can’t do it here. Just stay behind me.”
She looked so confused, but there was nothing to do about it. Our only hope now was escape. Everything else could wait. Sirens sounded in the distance. I have to stop him before he hurts anyone else. But how?
“You’re a lot stronger than I anticipated, you little twit.” Kole growled every word as he came around the back of the truck. “But I knew the stupid humans would be your weakness.”
“What do you want? Why are you here?” He must have some vulnerability. I need more time. The sirens grew steadily closer.
“I want you dead. I thought I’d made that clear.” His mouth turned up into a sinister smile, and excitement shone in his dark eyes as he stepped closer to me. “But first, let’s have a little fun.” He pointed his finger at the sky and a tiny green flame appeared above it.
Amber cowered behind me. “That’s not possible.”
“Please, don’t hurt her.” I put my arm out, as if that would somehow protect her. “You can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go.”
“But don’t you see, Olivia?” The cold amusement in his voice swept over me in a wave of nausea, washing away any remaining hope to stop him. “The only thing I want from you is your life, and I can take that right now. So why would I give up a little bit of fun in exchange for something I already have?” He pointed his finger at the ground and fire shot out, igniting the gasoline.
In half a second, it seemed the whole parking lot was on fire. Amber screamed in agony as the flames moved up her gasoline soaked pants almost to her waist. Before my weary brain could process what was happening, the fire sucked away and pulled into a tight ball around Kole, engulfing him.
“Let’s go.” Jack’s furious voice never sounded so perfect. “We don’t have much time.” He grumbled something incoherent at the sight of my bloody arm but didn’t say anything else.
Amber whimpered and writhed in pain as Jack lifted her. Most of her pants had been burned away and severe burns coated her legs. I stayed close as I followed him to his truck, turning back only once to see Kole, still surrounded by flames. He’d formed some sort of shield to protect his body from the heat and watched us through the flames as we climbed into the truck.
Amber shivered and moaned next to me, her face twisting with pain. I placed my hand on her leg, and she screamed.
“Don’t touch it, Livy! It hurts! Please, don’t! Just take me into the hospital.” Her cries rang in my ears as Jack tore out of the hospital parking lot. Seconds later, three police cars and a fire truck came wailing around the corner ahead of us.
“I’m sorry, Amber.” Tears flowed down my face. I closed my eyes, trying to block out her shrieking and imagined the tissue repairing itself. It took much longer than any of the other healing I’d done, but when I forced my eyes open, her skin was smooth and unscarred.
Amber panted, watching me with a horrified expression. “What did you just do?”
“I fixed you.” My voice sounded exactly as I felt—drained, like I hadn’t slept in days.
“What do you mean, you fixed me?” She looked so confused.
I’d have to explain everything. She deserved that much after everything that happened, but I couldn’t think of where to begin.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” I leaned against his arm. I just needed to rest for a minute before I did anything else. The need for sleep overwhelmed me, and I quickly slipped into unconsciousness.
****
That's it! Thanks for reading. Be sure to check out the rest, linked here.
So I'm excited that I get to participate in the Fight Scene Blogfest. Thanks for the linkage, Tere!
This is a scene from my old version of EMBROL, so I'm not totally happy with the writing. Though I don't seem to be happy with much of my writing lately, so yeah. We'll save that discussion for another day.
Just a little background: The heroine, Olivia, has gone to the hospital to visit her friend who was injured by the bad guy, even though Jack (the hero) is certain the bad guy, Kole, will be there waiting for her and says he won't allow her to go. Besides being furious with Jack for trying to control her, her loyalty to her friend supersedes any fear she might have of Kole, and she sneaks out of the house without Jack's knowledge. She is just discovering her powers and is not equipped to protect herself against someone with training. This scene starts as she reaches the parking lot after visiting her friend. Her best friend, Amber, is supposed to be waiting for her to drive her back to Jack's house.
****
At first, I didn’t see the man standing in front of Amber, hidden by the van next to her truck. She looked like she was talking to someone, but I thought she was on her cell phone.
I waved my arm, trying to get her attention. “Amber?”
She spun around, her eyes wide, terrified. That’s when I noticed him. Tall and dark, his black eyes full of cruelty and hatred. I took an involuntary step back. Kole.
Amber took a step toward me. “Run, Li—”
Kole slammed her head into the side of the truck without even touching her. Her limp body slumped to the ground.
Before I could react, an iridescent strand of air flew out from his hand, expanding to envelop a car twenty feet away in a thin, shimmering sheet of air. The car hurtled toward me. Abrupt movement to my right drew my attention. A second car flew up and collided with the first, pushing it away from me at the last possible second. I jumped out of the way, but not before it grazed my arm, knocking me flat on my back. The cars crashed down with a resounding crunch of metal and glass not far from where Kole stood near Amber’s truck. A sudden, steady pulse of blaring car alarms filled the air. My chest tightened at the thought of Amber being in the line of that. I had to get her away from there.
A warm stickiness slid down my right arm. A long, deep gash ran along the top of it. I glanced around as I pulled myself up on my hands and knees, my shoulder throbbing with every movement. He was nowhere in sight. I clambered to my feet and ducked behind a nearby van, falling to my knees again.
I crawled along the ground, struggling to catch my breath, and listened for his approach. I was exhausted, like I’d been running for miles with no rest. My heart pounded in my ears, and gasoline fumes burned my nose with each erratic breath. I fought to calm down, to get a better assessment of the situation.
The car alarms abruptly ceased, leaving complete silence. My throat constricted at the sound of quick footsteps.
A man in a security uniform stepped around the front of the van, holding a stun gun. “Are you okay? You need to get out of here. There was an explosion or something. It’s not safe.”
I shook my head and shooed him away. “You need to get out of here.” I nodded toward the stun gun. “That thing isn’t going to help you.”
“Come out, Olivia.” Kole’s deep voice had a singsong quality to it. It made my skin crawl. “Let’s finish this. Then I’ll leave your insignificant human friends alone. You’re only hurting them by remaining hidden.”
The security guard inched toward me.
“Go,” I whispered. “Please.” Tears of frustration poured down my face. What have I done coming here?
The security guard tugged on my arm, refusing to leave without me. I fell back as the van lifted into the air.
Kole’s lips curled up as he wound a shimmering strand of air around the man’s neck. A shiver went through me at the sound of bones cracking.
“Stop! Please!” I reached out, without thought, and struck Kole with a wall of air, knocking him back. The van crashed to the ground less than two feet from me. The realization came to me that I’d been the one to block the car he tried to kill me with. Every time I used my powers, I felt more drained, and my energy was fading quickly.
I ran to the man’s crumpled body and placed my fingers on his neck. The faintest pulse beat against my fingers. Relief flooded through me. I delved deeper, repairing the damage to his neck and his windpipe. His eyes didn’t open, but his pulse was stronger. I stood, hoping I’d done enough to save him. My head swam with exhaustion. I found a hiding place behind another car a little closer to Amber. The smell of gasoline was stronger there. I looked down to see it pooling around my feet.
Slipping around the front of the car, I made my way to Amber. I tried to be quiet, but my feet sloshed as I walked through the ever growing puddle. I kept my body low as I came around the front of her truck. Amber lay unconscious, her clothes drenched with gas. She had a long cut down the side of her face and her blood mixed with the fuel, making a swirling red halo around her head. I squatted and lifted her head, placing my fingers on her neck. Her pulse was weak but present, and her chest rose and fell with breath, much to my relief.
I put my hand to the wound on her face and felt for the damage. The bone wasn’t broken, but the wound extended high up into her hair, and I could feel the swelling on the inside of her skull. I closed my eyes, repeating what I’d done earlier with Jack. When I opened my eyes the wound was closed. Amber stared up at me.
I put my finger to my lips and motioned for her to get up. “We have to get out of here.”
“What is going on, Livy?” She stumbled getting to her feet.
“I’ll explain everything, but I can’t do it here. Just stay behind me.”
She looked so confused, but there was nothing to do about it. Our only hope now was escape. Everything else could wait. Sirens sounded in the distance. I have to stop him before he hurts anyone else. But how?
“You’re a lot stronger than I anticipated, you little twit.” Kole growled every word as he came around the back of the truck. “But I knew the stupid humans would be your weakness.”
“What do you want? Why are you here?” He must have some vulnerability. I need more time. The sirens grew steadily closer.
“I want you dead. I thought I’d made that clear.” His mouth turned up into a sinister smile, and excitement shone in his dark eyes as he stepped closer to me. “But first, let’s have a little fun.” He pointed his finger at the sky and a tiny green flame appeared above it.
Amber cowered behind me. “That’s not possible.”
“Please, don’t hurt her.” I put my arm out, as if that would somehow protect her. “You can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go.”
“But don’t you see, Olivia?” The cold amusement in his voice swept over me in a wave of nausea, washing away any remaining hope to stop him. “The only thing I want from you is your life, and I can take that right now. So why would I give up a little bit of fun in exchange for something I already have?” He pointed his finger at the ground and fire shot out, igniting the gasoline.
In half a second, it seemed the whole parking lot was on fire. Amber screamed in agony as the flames moved up her gasoline soaked pants almost to her waist. Before my weary brain could process what was happening, the fire sucked away and pulled into a tight ball around Kole, engulfing him.
“Let’s go.” Jack’s furious voice never sounded so perfect. “We don’t have much time.” He grumbled something incoherent at the sight of my bloody arm but didn’t say anything else.
Amber whimpered and writhed in pain as Jack lifted her. Most of her pants had been burned away and severe burns coated her legs. I stayed close as I followed him to his truck, turning back only once to see Kole, still surrounded by flames. He’d formed some sort of shield to protect his body from the heat and watched us through the flames as we climbed into the truck.
Amber shivered and moaned next to me, her face twisting with pain. I placed my hand on her leg, and she screamed.
“Don’t touch it, Livy! It hurts! Please, don’t! Just take me into the hospital.” Her cries rang in my ears as Jack tore out of the hospital parking lot. Seconds later, three police cars and a fire truck came wailing around the corner ahead of us.
“I’m sorry, Amber.” Tears flowed down my face. I closed my eyes, trying to block out her shrieking and imagined the tissue repairing itself. It took much longer than any of the other healing I’d done, but when I forced my eyes open, her skin was smooth and unscarred.
Amber panted, watching me with a horrified expression. “What did you just do?”
“I fixed you.” My voice sounded exactly as I felt—drained, like I hadn’t slept in days.
“What do you mean, you fixed me?” She looked so confused.
I’d have to explain everything. She deserved that much after everything that happened, but I couldn’t think of where to begin.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” I leaned against his arm. I just needed to rest for a minute before I did anything else. The need for sleep overwhelmed me, and I quickly slipped into unconsciousness.
****
That's it! Thanks for reading. Be sure to check out the rest, linked here.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Beefing up the Bad Guy
Susan R. Mills at A Walk In My Shoes did a series of posts a while back based on what she learned from Donald Maass's The Fire in Fiction. I have since purchased the book and learned a lot from it, but the topic that had the most impact on me was discussed in this post on Susan's blog. It's all about the bad guys.
In my novel, Embrol, the antagonist is super evil, and I know why he's evil, but his true motivation never comes up to give the reader some insight into his character. As a result, I think he's coming across as very one-dimensional. Plus, he isn't even mentioned until page 120, almost half way through the story, and we don't meet him until page 178. It's not that there isn't any tension before this--my hero and heroine have some serious issues to work through--but since reading Susan's post, his role in the story has been screaming for my attention, despite my best efforts to ignore it. He deserves a stronger presence, and I think the story will be better overall with some idea of why he is the way he is.
So, what does this mean? Well, rewrites of course. Seems like that's what it always means.
I've figured out a way to work the antagonist into the first ten pages, but his presence that early in the story changes pretty much everything. Sure, it would probably be easier to just shove this one in a drawer and work on something different, and I can't say I'm super excited about starting over from scratch, but I love these characters too much and I'm determined to make this story the best is can be. I want to see it on the bookstore shelf someday.
The worst part--I still have three queries out. Is it totally messed up that I'm hoping for rejections? Or maybe my query will just get lost in their slush piles for a few months until the new version is ready? Argh.
Anyway.
How evil are your antagonists? Do you give them the same depth as your other characters, some motivation for their badness? Or are they just bad because the bad guys are supposed to be bad?
In my novel, Embrol, the antagonist is super evil, and I know why he's evil, but his true motivation never comes up to give the reader some insight into his character. As a result, I think he's coming across as very one-dimensional. Plus, he isn't even mentioned until page 120, almost half way through the story, and we don't meet him until page 178. It's not that there isn't any tension before this--my hero and heroine have some serious issues to work through--but since reading Susan's post, his role in the story has been screaming for my attention, despite my best efforts to ignore it. He deserves a stronger presence, and I think the story will be better overall with some idea of why he is the way he is.
So, what does this mean? Well, rewrites of course. Seems like that's what it always means.
I've figured out a way to work the antagonist into the first ten pages, but his presence that early in the story changes pretty much everything. Sure, it would probably be easier to just shove this one in a drawer and work on something different, and I can't say I'm super excited about starting over from scratch, but I love these characters too much and I'm determined to make this story the best is can be. I want to see it on the bookstore shelf someday.
The worst part--I still have three queries out. Is it totally messed up that I'm hoping for rejections? Or maybe my query will just get lost in their slush piles for a few months until the new version is ready? Argh.
Anyway.
How evil are your antagonists? Do you give them the same depth as your other characters, some motivation for their badness? Or are they just bad because the bad guys are supposed to be bad?
Monday, December 7, 2009
Start at the Very Beginning
In The Sound of Music, Maria sang, “Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.” A very good place, indeed. The question is, when is the very beginning and how do you know?
My novel, EMBROL, has had many beginnings. Way too many, and none of them have worked. I’ve wanted them to work, have rewritten, revised, and manipulated them trying to make them work. I’ve even talked myself into believing they were working, but they were all wrong. Why were they all wrong? Because I wasn’t starting at the very beginning, at the inciting incident.
The inciting incident is the moment when the main character’s life is changed so dramatically it yanks her out of her safe, happy world (literally or figuratively) and forces her on some type of journey (physical, emotional, or a combination of the two) to try to regain that safe happiness, though that goal may change as the character grows and develops throughout the story.
I thought my readers needed time to bond with my main character. That way, they would truly feel for her when her world fell to pieces. As a result, I had all this superfluous backstory that was really bogging down my first chapter.
So, even though I love those first scenes, I hit the delete button, setting them free. Well, maybe I banished them to the word graveyard on my hard drive instead, because I can’t really set them free. What if I need them later? Yeah, that hasn’t happened yet. Still, I save everything.
Now, with only a few paragraphs (versus several pages) of set up, my first pages get straight to the major turning point in my main character’s life, hopefully pulling the reader into the story right away, accomplishing what my previous beginnings have not. And of course, the changes I’ve made have triggered other changes later in the story. It’s a vicious cycle, but that’s another post.
So, how do you know where to start your story? Do you think the reader needs time to bond with the character or is it best to get right into the action?
My novel, EMBROL, has had many beginnings. Way too many, and none of them have worked. I’ve wanted them to work, have rewritten, revised, and manipulated them trying to make them work. I’ve even talked myself into believing they were working, but they were all wrong. Why were they all wrong? Because I wasn’t starting at the very beginning, at the inciting incident.
The inciting incident is the moment when the main character’s life is changed so dramatically it yanks her out of her safe, happy world (literally or figuratively) and forces her on some type of journey (physical, emotional, or a combination of the two) to try to regain that safe happiness, though that goal may change as the character grows and develops throughout the story.
I thought my readers needed time to bond with my main character. That way, they would truly feel for her when her world fell to pieces. As a result, I had all this superfluous backstory that was really bogging down my first chapter.
So, even though I love those first scenes, I hit the delete button, setting them free. Well, maybe I banished them to the word graveyard on my hard drive instead, because I can’t really set them free. What if I need them later? Yeah, that hasn’t happened yet. Still, I save everything.
Now, with only a few paragraphs (versus several pages) of set up, my first pages get straight to the major turning point in my main character’s life, hopefully pulling the reader into the story right away, accomplishing what my previous beginnings have not. And of course, the changes I’ve made have triggered other changes later in the story. It’s a vicious cycle, but that’s another post.
So, how do you know where to start your story? Do you think the reader needs time to bond with the character or is it best to get right into the action?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
It's Not Hot All The Time. Really.
Since I'm too brain dead to come up with my own idea for a blog post, I'm borrowing a page from Tere's playbook and giving you a little bit of info about the setting of my book. It's mostly just pictures, but I said I was brain dead, so you can't expect much from me right now.
As some of you already know, my novel, Embrol, takes place in Arizona--most of it in the Phoenix area. I'm not really sure why I picked Arizona, especially since I've been wanting to move north (way north) for years. I would love to have seasons--not just hot and less hot. :) Despite my desire to get out, there are some things I would miss.
We have the most incredible sunsets.
This one's my favorite. At first, I was annoyed that those water spots on the lens showed up in the shot, but then I started thinking it had kind of a cosmic look to it, so now I love it. It works for my sci fi theme. ;) Click on the photo for a larger view.
We don't get hurricanes or tornados, but we get some pretty insane storms. A few years ago, a miroburst hit our area. It lifted our trampoline from our backyard, carried it over half an acre (over our house and both our vehicles) and dropped it in our front yard, where it basically exploded. Plus, I was drenched within seconds of stepping outside.
Rarely does it sprinkle here, and the rain doesn't often last long, but when we get it, we get a lot. This picture doesn't really show how much we get, but it's the only one I have. I wish I'd thought to take a pic of our 4-wheel drive Tahoe stuck in theriver wash when the concrete culvert was washed away by a storm. The whole body of the truck was resting on the ground, front and back tires either buried in the mud or completely underwater. We had to wait until the next day, when most of the water had drained away, and dig it out. Fun times! Still, I love the rain, and I love when it's cloudy all day long--even better when it lasts for several days in a row. Makes me smile. :)
My characters have to go further north to see snow, but these pics are proof that it does get cold enough in the valley to snow, though rarely. I can only remember a couple of times in my whole life, and it's never cold enough for it to stick, but it has happened.
This is the view of the Superstition Mountains from my front door. The snow was completely melted after only a couple of days.
As some of you already know, my novel, Embrol, takes place in Arizona--most of it in the Phoenix area. I'm not really sure why I picked Arizona, especially since I've been wanting to move north (way north) for years. I would love to have seasons--not just hot and less hot. :) Despite my desire to get out, there are some things I would miss.
We have the most incredible sunsets.
This one's my favorite. At first, I was annoyed that those water spots on the lens showed up in the shot, but then I started thinking it had kind of a cosmic look to it, so now I love it. It works for my sci fi theme. ;) Click on the photo for a larger view.
We don't get hurricanes or tornados, but we get some pretty insane storms. A few years ago, a miroburst hit our area. It lifted our trampoline from our backyard, carried it over half an acre (over our house and both our vehicles) and dropped it in our front yard, where it basically exploded. Plus, I was drenched within seconds of stepping outside.
Rarely does it sprinkle here, and the rain doesn't often last long, but when we get it, we get a lot. This picture doesn't really show how much we get, but it's the only one I have. I wish I'd thought to take a pic of our 4-wheel drive Tahoe stuck in the
My characters have to go further north to see snow, but these pics are proof that it does get cold enough in the valley to snow, though rarely. I can only remember a couple of times in my whole life, and it's never cold enough for it to stick, but it has happened.
This is the view of the Superstition Mountains from my front door. The snow was completely melted after only a couple of days.
That's it. Very exciting, I know.
So, where do your stories take place, and how do you choose your settings?
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Tuesday Teaser - The Dreaded Opening
Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking. Sheesh! Is she posting about her flippin' opening again!? Sorry, kids. I had another post planned, but I didn't have time to write it, so maybe tomorrow? We'll see.
After my experience with the Secret Agent contest and a few more awesome critiques, I think my opening is a lot better, if not perfect yet. I've beefed it up quite a bit, making it twice as long but, hopefully, less confusing and telling than it was before.
All honest comments are welcome. I always have my seven stages to fall back on. :)
Thanks for reading! Happy Tuesday!
*****
Removed.
After my experience with the Secret Agent contest and a few more awesome critiques, I think my opening is a lot better, if not perfect yet. I've beefed it up quite a bit, making it twice as long but, hopefully, less confusing and telling than it was before.
All honest comments are welcome. I always have my seven stages to fall back on. :)
Thanks for reading! Happy Tuesday!
*****
Removed.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
WIP Wednesday
I know the title of this post implies I actually made progress this week, but I was very busy making badges, and um, um... Crap. Okay, okay. So, I've been a major procrastinator this week. It's been a bit frustrating, but I think I've figured out my problem. I'm going to have to sit down and write an actual outline for this one, hence, my procrastination.I'm sure I could do an outline, but my desire to actually do it, is minimal, dropping it down on my priority list. I'm going to let that one simmer at the back of my mind for a while and focus on my first novel.
I sat down and wrote the first words of that one on Sept. 15th of last year. At that point, I was a tiny bit delusional about the publishing process, and I thought for sure I'd be published by now and making lots of money. Pretty funny, huh? Go ahead. I'll wait until the hysterical laughter subsides.
Are you done now, so I can continue? Anyway. So, the upcoming Sept. 15th marks the one year anniversary of me starting this whole process. Yes, I know. It was very smart of me to figure that out, so I could point it out to all of you. I'm feeling brilliant this morning. ;)
The point of this post is more to make me accountable than anything else, because I've set a goal. And if I don't share it with someone besides my husband, my chances of accomplishing it reduce significantly. My goal is to be done with the final round of revisions on Embrol and have a big batch of queries sent out by Sept. 15th. It will be difficult, but I don't think it's totally unreasonable.
So, how's it going for all of you? Making progress? Any goals you want to share? Any confessions about your delusions regarding publishing? :D
Friday, August 28, 2009
Just Grow Up and Get Out, Already!
My query was awful, resulting in several rejections. I revamped the query with the help of my awesome bloggy friend, Suzanne, and several suggestions from a critique session on Beth Revis’s blog. It still needs a little tweaking, but I think it’s pretty close. I’m itching to test it out, but I’ve hit another speed bump.
I rewrote my ending a couple of months ago and sent it off to one of my crit buddies. She sent it back with lots of very helpful red marks, prompting me to look at the rest with a more critical eye.
I hadn’t looked at the ms in almost two months, and we all know how much things can change in that amount of time. When I started going over it again, I realized it could still use some work. So, I think I’ve decided to do one last round of revisions. It makes me kind of grouchy every time I think about it. It’s never ending! Never. Ending.
So, I’m wondering. How do you know when you’re done and ready to submit? When is it time to say, I’ve done all I can, and set that baby free?
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