Don't throw the baby away with the bathwater

As you can see, I've got my word-count meter up for my upcoming novel. Don't be overly impressed with the quick rise in word count. Though in the last two days I've written three thousand new words, the rest was cut and paste. It's amazing how much my perception of my MC has changed. When I started this novel six years ago, I had him escalated to super stud. He begged to be taken off the pedestal and given human qualities. Its been fun reacquainting myself with him and the others characters. I'm not quite sure where it's going, but I am overcoming my fear of conflict to some degree. I'm putting him into situations where he might be, dare I say it, embarrassed and unsure of himself.

Quite honestly, I had written this novel off as a great learning experience. I put it through the critiquing process, a humbling experience. I rejected a lot of critiquer's suggestions. I wanted raving reviews instead of constructive criticism. In an attempt to live up to their expectations, I changed the nature of the novel in such a way that it no longer resembled my original idea. So, in frustration, I set it aside and started anew. Now, looking back and re-reading and writing, I understand a little better what they were trying to tell me. I recommend critique groups, especially for beginners, but grow a thick skin and keep in mind, some people's perspectives are a little off.

So that's my two cents for the day. Hope this day brings you blessings and refreshment. The party's over, time to get back to work--crocodile tears, sniff, sniff.

Book Trailer

I put this trailer together months ago, more like a year ago, when I was just messing around. Since I'm in the middle of composing a query letter and a synopsis, I thought about this trailer and realized I had already summarized the book without realizing it. It's a simplified version, I admit, but it was fairly painless to do, and, in fact, kind of fun So even though the book is not published, or even queried, I thought I'd share the trailer. Let me know what you think, keeping in mind, the book is not available and the cover and possibly the title may change, though I'm quite fond of the title. That's down below.

On another note there is a fiction novel contest sponsored by the New American Press Click here Submit 100-400 pages of, it sounds like, anything. You have to send a hard copy via snail mail and it cost $20.00 to join. Multiple submissions are encouraged. It'll cost you $20.00 for each. Submissions close May 15, 2010.

I'm seriously thinking of submitting my finished MS. I doubt I'll be able to get it fully proofed by then, but it should be fun. I don't expect to win, anyway, but don't tell them that.

Right now my hubby is reading it. Bless his heart, he says he likes it. What else would he say, but he's pretty honest, albeit a bit biased.

Well, it was great talking with you. I'm thankful for your comments and I welcome all my new peeps. The more the merrier, I love you all.

God bless.

Stop Obsessing

I've been so caught up in what's going on in the world, I haven't had time to blog. With the state of the country, the Congress running amok on health care, our economy being flushed, and our troops being all but ignored, I haven't been able to concentrate on my writing. Every time I plan to sit down and work on my novel, I can't resist the impulse to go out and see what's going on in the world. I'm obsessed. It happens to me every now and again. No, that's not true, it's a state of mind for me.

But, I swear, tomorrow I'll work on my book for, at least, two hours first thing. The world can just fall apart, I'll be working on my writing. Really.

The hero thows a fit

Jack Troy stands up, hands on hips and glares at his creator, EA McKenzie, in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? You haven't given me enough to deal with, now you add a dominating grandmother?"

"Jack," EA says. "You are dealing with things far too well. You need an antagonist to challenge you."

"WHAT, getting shot isn’t enough? Raising an ungrateful, fifteen-year old brother doesn’t antagonize me? Taking in a complete stranger who brings danger to me and Ancel, isn’t enough? What about falling in love? That's stressful . . . though, well, pleasant, but still. And you're reorganizing the script and taking out some of my best stuff. What's that about? I'm starting to look like a freaking . . . gees, I don't know. You tell me."

With a superhuman effort, EA squelches her impatience, takes a deep breath and says, "Calm down, Jack. It's not like you to get so excited."

"Wait, this is the only life I get. Once you close the lid on the computer, you go off and have a grand old time while I'm left in your most recent fantasy and forgotten. Sometimes I'm even left hanging with a dangling participle, an unfinished sentence, or an unresolved catastrophe. Talk about tension. So I can get excited, you taught me how to be emotional, EA."

EA raises an eyebrow. "Yes, I see I've done that quite well, too well, maybe. With all due respect, my dear, I can shove a sock in your mouth at will."

EA blows off Jack's indignation and continues, "Here's the deal, you are too perfect, too wonderful and I love you like that, but the readers might find your perfect-ness boring. I'd hate for them to give up on the book and miss the adventure. And you're not a freaking anything. You're a warm, kind hearted man on a mission to save a young boy's life. We needed grandma to shake things up with Ancel and to disapprove of Skip. It gives her the excuse she's been looking for to say 'I told you so.' You feel guilty and angry, so you turn on the woman you so recently realized you love."

Jack isn’t convinced. "Well that takes care of my, so called 'perfect-ness.'" He pauses for breath, then remembers, "And, and, aren't those chapters where the old bag lady gets killed exciting? What about when we go to the shelter to rescue Skip and he topples a table and injures my knee. Now I've got to gimp and hobble with a crutch and a cane through the next few chapters--and that's in addition to the gunshot wound I already received in my shoulder. Skip was a little twit in that scene, EA, he almost kills Bobby and puts Cole and me in mortal danger."

"I know, I know. But the readers aren’t going to get the emotional bang for their buck. It's not your fault, I'm the one writing the novel and I'm the one putting myself out there, not you. They'll love you no matter how boring the story is. We've learned through reading and studying that a few tension filled scenes just aren't going to cut it. We need more substance, and we're still not quite sure how to write the ending. Then there's the problem of the other characters getting all the attention at the end while you sit with Ancel in the hospital. Granny might come in handy there."

EA feels bad for Jack as he sits with his big, sad eyes. Then she realizes she's talking to a fictitious character. They'll be carrying her away in a padded wagon next. But she can't leave this unresolved. "Aw, Jack, You're the hero," EA says, "Those other characters are there to make you look good and help you resolve things."

Jack heaves a heavy sigh. "I . . . I guess you're right, but no more surprises, okay."

"Sorry, darlin, I can't promise you that," EA says with a broad smile.

Jack glares at her. Even with that expression on his face, he's still the hunk she created.

How Present the Past

Many of you have given me some good advice on my current WIP, Bum's Rush. Thank you. One piece of advice, heard many times from different people, is to get away from it and write something else.

My first WIP, a work I started six years ago, now, has been on my mind. It's the novel I cut my teeth on. The one I allowed to be critiqued, the one I finished at least twice. I got it out the other day and started rereading it. Lo and behold, it's darn good writing. When I thought about it, it should be, I mean I nurtured it for five years before I put it aside for Bum's Rush. So there you have it. The name of this piece is, How Present the Past. Just so you know. You can watch my progress on my Bum's Rush page.

My novel

About the only thing I'm a complete expert at is my novel. I'm calling it, "Bum's Rush." That may change, but I think it fits the story.

Bum's Rush takes place in Portland, Oregon. I've chosen to make each location fiction. The reason being, I've been away from Portland long enough that few of the establishments I knew about are still there, but I have a working knowledge of the city since I lived near or in it for more than thirty years. All I can say is, "Thank God for Google Earth."

There are two protagonist, Jack Troy and Skip Reynolds.

Jack grew in Lake Oswego, the son of a wealthy man, old money, that sort of thing. Six years before this story takes place, his parents die in a car crash leaving him to take care of their, late in life son, Jack's nine-year old brother, Ancel. Ancel is now fifteen.

Skip Reynolds, now sixteen-years old, has a severe stutter and attended a school for the deaf, in this story, it's the "Oregon School for the Hearing Impaired." Skip was orphaned two years before this story takes place when his mother died of heart failure. He bounced from one foster home to another. Pour kid was misunderstood because of his disability. When he was placed in an abusive foster home, he fled to the streets, not trusting in the "system" anymore. He hooks up with an old bag lady whose name is Lilith.

Circumstances bring Jack's and Skip’s lives together, yet they both have secrets. Secrets that will surprise each of them.

I’ve actually finished this and am working on the second draft. I hope to have it written by June, my new goal.