Okay, starting now we're going to sprint for one hour, but come here and check in at fifteen minute intervals. See you in fifteen!
Wednesday, 7 November 2012
Well, it's been a fairly productive week. I've logged over 8200 words and I was doing so good until Sunday came. I never write on Sundays and I didn't this last weekend, but come Monday, I was struggling to get back into my story. I'd marched forward so well until then, I assumed that would continue.
Monday I ground out two more chapters, but Tuesday left me with no motivation. Today I've been hemming and hawing and trying to sit down and write something coherent. So far, it's not been pretty.
So, here's my question to you---when you have momentum going, then something stops it, how do you get it going again? And also, how are you doing with your word count so far?
Monday I ground out two more chapters, but Tuesday left me with no motivation. Today I've been hemming and hawing and trying to sit down and write something coherent. So far, it's not been pretty.
So, here's my question to you---when you have momentum going, then something stops it, how do you get it going again? And also, how are you doing with your word count so far?
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
Well, I had nothing but gushing praise for last week's episode, but this week . . . meh. I called who the killer was in the beginning (although I didn't see the best friend's boyfriend's crush) and Castle was acting like a first season man-boy. It was also a little rehash of when Beckett was investigating the soap opera case and she was a fan, but was embarrassed about it to Castle. Too much of the same. Come on, writers, I know you can do better.
Like, when is Castle going to find out how much of a fan of his books Beckett really was and how reading his novels got her through her mother's death? (As we found out from her old boyfriend). That could be such a fun and emotional show. No need for Castle to look so goofy all the time.
And the thing with Alexis being barely dressed and Castle seeing her? Felt so throwaway. I was embarrassed for that one. Oy. And where can I start with Ryan's wardrobe choices from last night? Just no. Please stop with the weird jackets and vests. Last night hurt my eyes to look at him.
The only redeeming quality to me about last night's show was the final scene. That little dance in Castle's room and the mask was HILARIOUS! In that one little scene they made the whole show feel like less of a drain. Other than that, it wasn't one of my favorites.
Do you hate when shows rehash old themes from previous episodes?
Like, when is Castle going to find out how much of a fan of his books Beckett really was and how reading his novels got her through her mother's death? (As we found out from her old boyfriend). That could be such a fun and emotional show. No need for Castle to look so goofy all the time.
And the thing with Alexis being barely dressed and Castle seeing her? Felt so throwaway. I was embarrassed for that one. Oy. And where can I start with Ryan's wardrobe choices from last night? Just no. Please stop with the weird jackets and vests. Last night hurt my eyes to look at him.
The only redeeming quality to me about last night's show was the final scene. That little dance in Castle's room and the mask was HILARIOUS! In that one little scene they made the whole show feel like less of a drain. Other than that, it wasn't one of my favorites.
Do you hate when shows rehash old themes from previous episodes?
Monday, 5 November 2012
The Reluctant Bachelorette by Rachael Anderson is billed as a romantic comedy and it really is. I loved the shenanigans, the main character and the setting. It's a really fun, light-hearted read.
We first meet Taycee Emerson who runs a flower shop in her hometown. She loves her job, but her hometown full of farmers is slowly dying so her best friend comes up with a fundraising plan of doing a bachelorette show---and surprise! Taycee is the chosen star of the show. Everything probably would have been fine until her high school crush Luke Carney strolls back into town and onto the show. The hijinks begin with Taycee doing everything she can to get him thrown off and Luke not taking it lying down.
Even though there is a lot of sigh-worthy romance, there are also family situations and secondary characters who round out the story. I thoroughly enjoyed this read and would recommend it to anyone who loves a good romance. (I also loved the cover and when she had people voting on her website, this is the one I chose. It matches the story so well!)
Here's the back copy:
Unknowingly cast as the bachelorette for her town’s charity event, Taycee Emerson wants out. Especially when she discovers her old teenage crush, Luke Carney, is one of the bachelors and it's up to the viewers--not her--to decide which bachelors stay or go. Coerced into participating, Taycee does what any self-preserving girl would do. She launches a subtle attack on Luke’s good name with the hope of getting him voted off the show. Unfortunately, Luke's an eye-for-an-eye kind of guy, and when he discovers what she's up to, it means revenge. But when their pranks go south, will they screw up any chance they have at a future together, or will they be able to forgive and forget and prove that love really does conquer all?
Saturday, 3 November 2012
Jon Spell made the suggestion that we post the first page from the Nano novels we're working on. Some said no way, it was unedited stuff that they couldn't post. Others said, sure, why not. So I'm opening up this thread for anyone who wants to post a page from their Nano novel for others to read/comment on.
And here's mine: (Keep in mind it's my raw, unedited NaNo work.) :)
The smell of smoke was stronger now and Colby circled the house. He hopped the fence and saw the flames from the side window. The kitchen was on fire. Fishing his cell phone from his pants pocket, he quickly dialed 911. Assuring himself that emergency personnel were on the way, he crept closer, peering in the windows. The smoke was thick and flames were licking the oak kitchen cupboards that old man Carney had spent hours refinishing himself. The fire was greedy and was making its way toward the ceiling.
Okay, I showed you mine, now let's see yours.
And here's mine: (Keep in mind it's my raw, unedited NaNo work.) :)
Colby got out of his car and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment. He was exhausted. They’d been on a domestic violence call that had turned into a hostage situation that hadn’t ended well. All Colby wanted to do was crawl in his bed, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to close his eyes. The image of the wife dead in her living room would live with him for a long time.
He pushed off and started up the walk to his house. He’d never dreamed he’d still be living in his childhood home, but when his parents had died, they’d left it to him and it provided an inner security for him that he’d never been able to recreate anywhere else. He took the steps up to the front porch two at a time, but stopped. Smoke. He could smell smoke.
The tiredness in his body melted away as his heart began to beat faster. Vaulting over the small wall that surrounded the porch, he went around back. The smell got stronger the faster he moved and he realized it was coming from the old Carney house next door.
Colby crossed the lawn and pulled open the screen door. The Carney family had moved out of the home years ago and several different renters had been there since then. With Colby’s crazy work hours, though, he had no idea who lived there now. He banged on the front door. “Hello? Is anyone home?”
There was no answer.
The smell of smoke was stronger now and Colby circled the house. He hopped the fence and saw the flames from the side window. The kitchen was on fire. Fishing his cell phone from his pants pocket, he quickly dialed 911. Assuring himself that emergency personnel were on the way, he crept closer, peering in the windows. The smoke was thick and flames were licking the oak kitchen cupboards that old man Carney had spent hours refinishing himself. The fire was greedy and was making its way toward the ceiling.
Okay, I showed you mine, now let's see yours.
Friday, 2 November 2012
As all of you know, Hurricane Sandy blew onto U.S. soil this week and left thousands without power, heat, and basic necessities. I have many friends and some family on the East coast and I've been anxiously monitoring their well-being. Ms. Shreditor is one of those friends. She still has no power, but has found shelter and is okay. My thoughts and prayers are with everyone affected by this storm.
Because of her situation, Ms. Shreditor was unable to do First Page Friday this week, but Jordan McCollum graciously stepped in. I appreciate everyone who has helped make this blog feature a success. I hope you tell your friends about it. We still have one opening in November.
On to First Page Friday!
The Entry
Cherry
by Karen Edwards
Jordan's Comments
The Good
The only real line edit problem I noticed is the echo structure between "I was worried for the kid, that’s why I pulled over." and "I felt sorry for the kid; that’s why I offered." It's fantastic for a character to have regular patterns of speech and turns of phrase that we can recognize in their voice--but using them so close together here feels too repetitive.
Caveats
Because of her situation, Ms. Shreditor was unable to do First Page Friday this week, but Jordan McCollum graciously stepped in. I appreciate everyone who has helped make this blog feature a success. I hope you tell your friends about it. We still have one opening in November.
On to First Page Friday!
The Entry
Cherry
by Karen Edwards
Journal Entry: Tuesday, December 14
The kid looked like a dog sh*tting razor blades and no wonder; it was nut-numbing cold out there last night. Mid-December, thirty-seven raw degrees and raining, and here’s this kid in jeans and a nylon windbreaker, head down, staring at his shoes.
I was worried for the kid, that’s why I pulled over. This was in Bad Axe past the tracks, at the corner of Oak Street and Vine. I opened the driver’s side window half-way and called out, “Hey!”
He looked up and I waved him over. He crossed the street and stopped two feet from my van.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I tried not to look at the snot running out of his nose.
He took a step closer. “Maybe. Are you a cop?” Shivering.
“Nope,” I said. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he answered, hands shoved deep into his blue jean pockets, brown hair plastered to his head.
He didn’t look all right to me.
“Do you want to come in for a minute to get warm?” I felt sorry for the kid; that’s why I offered.
“You sure you’re not a cop? You have to tell me. I think it’s the law.”
“I’m not a cop,” I said. “Hop in.”
“Okay, then.” He walked around the van to the passenger side, climbed in and pulled the door shut.
“It’s not the law, you know,” I said, cranking up the heat. “Cops work undercover all the time.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” He smiled and rubbed his hands together in front of the heater vent.
He looked all of fifteen, not that it mattered because I wasn’t going to do anything. Wouldn’t. For one thing, I don’t mess with jail bait. For another, I prefer the ladies.
I waited for him to say something else and finally, he did.
Jordan's Comments
The Good
This piece has great voice! It grabs you right away and gives the reader a sense of "authority," that this character (and the author) is confident in himself, and in his story (I'm assuming the narrator is a man) and how to tell it. You set up an interesting situation here, and I really want to know what the kid says next!
I love this mode of storytelling. As a journal (as with a letter), this is classified as an epistolary novel, which gives you license for all the interpretation and introspection your readers can stand ;) . The challenges with an epistolary novel, however, are that some readers find recounting of full scenes less realistic in epistolary fiction (though by and large few have a problem with it). It can be also difficult at times to switch or differentiate between the mode of hindsight/reflection and recounting in-the-moment thoughts.
Since he's obviously writing about this after the fact, we know that the narrator survives to write the tale, which might be somewhat problematic since readers might have a hard time believing the character is ever in true danger if he lived to tell about it. I mention this specifically because it feels like you're setting up a mystery or suspense novel with the setting and the voice, although that may not be the case, and often the main character's jeopardy plays a big role in that genre.
I just wanted to note that I especially liked the voice when the character says "Wouldn't." It feels so natural, because that's how so many people speak.
Caveats
Obviously this is a personal decision, but be aware that some readers (even in the national audience) are offended by swearing, especially in the opening line. Perhaps those readers aren't who you want in your audience, and you might be setting the tone of the piece. If you're going to turn off a portion of your potential readership in the opening line, just be aware of that possibility.
I want to be able to assume that the narrator isn't a pedophile without being told that. The problem with stating it out right in this way is that it can almost come off as if the narrator is "protesting too much." One possible way to handle this might be through dialogue with the kid, since I'm sure if this is contemporary, that at least crosses the kid's mind. Then simply "I prefer the ladies." I believe the default setting for most adult men (although we can't be sure of the narrator's exact age) isn't under-aged girls, and the need to specify that comes off as if it's actually crossing his mind. Since the narrator has the benefit of hindsight here,
One other challenge with all first person stories is working the character's name in early. I'm hoping/assuming he'll introduce himself to the kid soon, so we can have a name for both characters. No matter how well we know the character's voice, there's always a little something extra that comes from anchoring that voice into a person with a name and a physical appearance. And that's always a challenge in first person!
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