Mara Writes

North Dakota Flood of 2011

2011-06-26T17:58:00.000-05:00

Hey there! It's been quite a long time since I blogged, and for that I apologize. Sometimes real life gets in the way of cyberspace.

So a couple of weeks ago we left on vacation - a road trip across the western half of the U.S., culminating in visiting family in Oregon. We drove from North Dakota through Montana to Yellowstone Park. The park was miserable. It was so packed with tourists it felt like driving in rush hour traffic and all I wanted was to get out. There was no way to commune with nature with that much traffic.

After escaping Yellowstone we stayed in Idaho, then the next day drove to Salt Lake City were we discovered some of the rudest drivers ever. Seriously, I was astonished at the bad behavior.

After Utah, we took off west to Reno where we stayed at Circus Circus for 2 days and had an absolute blast. Hubby and I only gambled a little bit because we had so much fun with the kids in the arcade and midway we had no desire to go to the casino.

After Reno we traveled through Northern California (the Shasta and Lassen wilderness areas are so incredibly beautiful it made up for the Yellowstone debacle) and up to Grants Pass, Oregon to visit family. The next stop was the Oregon Coast where we enjoyed the beach (well, the rest of the family did...I stayed in the hotel room and suffered with excrutiating tooth pain from a rotten tooth). The last stop on the trip was Salem, Oregon where we visited more family.

Throughout the trip we monitored news back home about the flooding taking place in Minot, ND, which is only about 20 miles from our hometown. The Mouse River has inundated Minot and, unfortunately, our home town lies along the same river.

On the morning of our second day in Salem we learned that our hometown was calling for a mandatory evacuation 2 days hence. So we all piled into the car and drove 30 hours straight to get back home in time to pack our house for evacuation. Luckily we have 3 licensed drivers in the family. We stopped at a rest stop somewhere near Deer Lodge, MT and slept for 2 hours, then did a 3-man driving rotation where whoever wasn't driving could sleep.

We got home in time to get our house in order for evacuation. We managed to get a lot of stuff into plastic tubs and into our storage unit, but since we have no place to put furniture, our only choice was to haul everything up to the second floor, hoping that if the town does flood the water won't get that high. We didn't have enough time to clear out the whole house or enough space on the second floor to cram everything we own, so it came down to a lot of prioritizing...is this more important than that? All 3 bedrooms, a bathroom, and a hallway upstairs are packed solid with stuff.

Right now we're living in a hotel. The one lucky moment in this whole disaster was that when I called hotels in Minot (the part that isn't flooded), I was able to find us a room. Trust me, this is a minor miracle considering that parts of Minot, all of the town of Sawyer and most of the town of Velva have been evacuated. Hotels are booked solid.

So here we sit, with our cat, waiting out the river. It's supposed to crest in our town tomorrow, and we're all on pins and needles waiting to see if all the clay temporary diking that the Nat'l Guard and Army Corps of Engineers heaped on top of the regular dike will hold. The river is already above the level of the regular dike and as of this morning much of the temporary dike was eroding from the river flow. They were scrambling to place plastic sheeting and sandbags over the dike to prevent more erosion.

So that's where it stands at the moment. Until the river decides what it's going to do, we're basically homeless. Luckily I work from home anyway, so I should be able to work from the hotel and continue to earn a living. Other than that, it's just an effort to keep from going stir crazy.

The pictures above show: the river hitting the bottom of the bridge at the north end of town. You can see the temporary dike on the right above the river; the second pic shows how they diked the bridge; the last pic shows the erosion before they started covering it with plastic and sandbags.

So that's the scoop. Anybody else live through natural disasters? What's your story?

Shout Out for Blogfests

2011-05-08T14:44:00.000-05:00

As many of you know, I love blogfests. They're a fun way to meet new bloggers, practice writing in genres or styles or with prompts you normally wouldn't, and to practice your craft.

I usually keep a list of upcoming blogfests over there on the right, but as you can see, all the blogfests on my list are expired, and I haven't seen any new ones advertised recently. Is everyone just exhausted from the A-Z Challenge? Or am I just not tapped into the blogfest Source?

Although I will be hosting a blogfest upcoming (probably at the end of June...but I haven't got the deets planned yet), I'd like to beef up the list for between now and then.

That's where you, dear readers, come in. Do you know of any upcoming blogfests I can add to my list? Join me in scouring the blogosphere for blogfests and let me know what you find. I'll add them to my list and we can have loads of fun blogfesting the summer away!

A-Z Challenge Wrap-up

2011-05-06T10:52:00.001-05:00

So, for those of you playing along at home, you can see that I dropped the ball on the final stretch of the A-Z Challenge, having missed V-Z. My excuses? Well, the semester was rushing inexorably toward closure and I had to hurry up and finish my MFA thesis so I can graduate, plus I had tons of grading to do for my freshman composition courses. So basically I was buried under it.

But now that the MFA thesis has been turned over to the thesis committee, I'm seriously relieved. The screenplay is pretty good, if I do say so myself. In fact, one of my mentors who has connections wanted to set up a staged reading in high places. We'll see if anything comes of that.

I still have grading of final papers to do for my composition courses, but hopefully that won't take too long.

Then I'll be back to just doing the day job...and searching for a job relevant to my new MFA. So if anyone knows of any writing jobs out there? Or teaching writing? Or maybe editing? Or something...anything?

Meantime, I'll try to finish up the V-Z posts. I still need to write Artie's tale to complete the Happy Acres tales...if anyone was paying attention to them. Which leads me to my only criticism of the A-Z Challenge: It was just too big. There were so many participants that instead of finding a bunch of fun new people to follow I ended up frustrated trying to sift through the thousand-plus participants for blogs I might be interested in. And everyone else was so busy trying to sift through them all, that my blog traffic actually went down (not that I'm all that, you know, popular to start with, although I did gain some followers, so that's good!).

Anyway, hang in there and for those of you following the Happy Acres Saga, there will be more soon. And everybody stay tuned for details about the upcoming blogfest...

What did you think of the A-Z Challenge?

T and U are for Thank U

2011-04-25T15:28:00.000-05:00

Today is U-Day for the A-Z Challenge - it's the home stretch!

Obviously I'm running out of steam since I'm late posting T and U. I still need to write Artie's story for the Happy Acres Tales, and I'll get that done this week. I'm just in a big huge tizzy to get my MFA thesis all put together and mailed to the division office before the deadline or else I don't get to graduate. Ack!

Plus there's the whole job hunting for both me and Hubby, plus Hubby's graduating and oldest son is graduating from high school, so we're kind of hectic here.

But....the T and U of Thank U (which is admittedly a tad of a stretch for T and U) are for my followers. I appreciate your attention and comments, and I love meeting new bloggers and finding new and worthy blogs to follow. So Thank yo(U) for being you and for being my followers!

I totally promise to have Artie's story done this week...probably Wednesday. And after the A-Z Challenge I'll announce the day of my 200-Follower Blogfest when you'll get the chance to create a character to add to the Happy Acres family.

S is for Simon's Tale

2011-04-22T10:09:00.000-05:00

Today is S-Day for the A-Z Challenge. How many challengers out there are running out of steam? Hang in there! We're heading into the home stretch!

I've got two more stories to go for the Happy Acres Tales, and today is Simon's. Enjoy!

***************

Simon's Tale

"So," Simon said. "You want to know how I ended up here?"

I rolled my eyes. "Um, yeah. That's the whole point of this tale-telling thing." I wanted to add 'duh,' but resisted the urge.

"All right, I'll tell you. I'm an international spy. Well, a double agent actually. I work for a recognized government, but I'm also the head of an underground movement to reinstall a monarchy in Scotland. I'm the rightful heir to the throne, you know."

We all nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Simon's insistence that he's the king of Scotland is old news around here. I heard somewhere that if you tell the same lie long enough and with enough conviction, people will start to believe it. Here at Happy Acres it's more like if you believe in your own delusions strongly enough, and repeat them with enough conviction, we all just accept it as fact.

"Scotland hasn't had it's own monarchy since sometime in the 17th century," Artie said. Since he was new to Happy Acres, he hadn't yet acclimated to Simon.

"Too true, my good man," Simon said. "And long past time to reinstall a monarch, don't you think?"

Artie looked at me, confused, unsure how to answer. I just nodded, indicating he should go along.

"I was undercover on a mission," Simon continued. "My cover was as a brewmaster running a distillery making fake Scotch whisky. We were trying to break a distribution ring. But it was also the headquarters of my underground monarchy movement."

"Ooooh," Tessa said. "International intrigue!"

"Quite right. I realized there was a mole in my organization and in my effort to flush him out things went bad and the distillery blew sky high. Needless to say, along with the whisky, my cover was blown."

"Scusies again, but if you're a super secret James Bondy type, why are you here?" Mia asked.

"Some stoolie ratted out my monarchy plans and because I posed a threat to the crown and the status quo, I was carted off and institutionalized," Simon said. His usual air of confidence had deflated into a pout.

"If you're a real spy, aren't you supposed to keep all your missions and identity secret?" Bill asked.

"Of course, but who'd believe any of you if you told them my story? You're all a bunch of lunatics. People will think you made the story up."

"Hey, I take offense at that," said T-Bone.

"As it turns out, Happy Acres is the perfect new base of operations for my monarchy movement."

"Right," I said. "Because everyone in Scotland is going to want a king who lives in the nut house."

"Britain has never had a shortage of mad kings," Artie pointed out.

"For perfect!" Mia said. "You fit right in, Simon!"

Q and R are for Quite Right

2011-04-21T11:44:00.000-05:00

Today is R-Day for the A-Z Challenge. I totally missed Q-Day so I'm going to combine them here.

Back to Happy Acres....

*******************
Interlude

"So," I said. "Who's next? Simon or Artie?"

"I was the last one here, so I'll tell my tale last," Artie said.

"Well, then. I suppose that leaves me, doesn't it?" Simon said.

He rose from his chair and sauntered to the doorway where a fire extinguisher was mounted on the wall. Unfazed by all of us waiting for his tale, he fisted his hand and knocked once on the wall panel beneath the extinguisher. The board popped out and inside, balanced neatly on a two by four brace, was a fifth of Sobieski vodka and a shot glass.

"It's against the rules to have alcohol in here," Artie pointed out.

A sly smile spread Simon's lips as he opened the bottle and poured himself a shot.

"Rules are meant to be broken, my friend," he said, throwing back the shot.

He replaced the bottle and the glass, then closed the panel.

"Now we know where your stash is," I said, triumphant. Simon is, after all, my Happy Acres nemesis. I'm always looking for ways to get the upper hand in our ongoing battle of wills.

"Quite right, good lady," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jamb. "But wouldn't I be foolish to keep all my eggs in one basket?"

"You have more hidden hooch?" T-Bone asked, surprised.

Simon just smiled and watched as everyone's eyes scanned the room and considered where else he could have hidden goodies.

"Just what else do you have hidden around here?" Artie asked.

"Oh!" Tessa said. "Like cupcakes?"

"No cupcakes," Simon said with disdain. He clearly thought himself above pastry.

"Then what?" Bill asked.

Simon headed back for his chair where he settled in, crossing his legs and behaving every inch the king he claimed to be. When he didn't answer, I just sighed in exasperation.

"Never mind," I said. "He's just going to jerk us around and laugh while we scurry around trying to find stuff he may or may not have hidden."

"Like some twisted Easter Bunny," T-Bone said.

"I love jelly beans," Tessa said.

"Just tell us your tale and be done with it," I said to Simon, glaring at him. Not that at this point I wanted him to have any more attention. But we'd already started the tale-telling and there was no getting around it now.

"Well," he said, then teased us with a long pause. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

I scoffed at him. "Yeah, I'd like to see you try."

"Be careful what you ask for, good lady."

"What're you going to do, Simon, charm me to death? Or maybe drink me under the table? Or bore me to death by reading Hemingway aloud?"

"Don't tempt me," he warned.

Before I could deliver my comeback, Mia cleared her throat. "Scusies, but the zombies are impatiently waiting for a tres totes peachy tale. So maybe you two can, you know, perhaps square off after the tale-telling?"

Simon squirmed briefly in his seat, his gaze scanning the area around Mia, then quickly returning to meet her eyes. Simon is uncomfortable around Mia's zombies.

"You're quite right, Mia. It's story telling time. Don't want to upset the zombies, now, do we?" He chuckled uneasily.

Tessa tossed a handful of rainbow confetti. "Yay for stories!"

"So," Simon said, "you want to know how I ended up here?"

P is for Perseverance and Pluck

2011-04-19T13:20:00.000-05:00

Today is P-Day for the A-Z Challenge. I'm taking a little break from the Happy Acres crew, today. There are only two tales left to tell - Simon and Artie - and I need to ruminate over those for another day or so.

I wanted to talk about perseverance and pluck today because I'm trying to summon them myself. All writers get to the point where they're just so frustrated they want to give up, right? Especially once we've started querying, because at that point we think we have a perfect shiny manuscript and it's depressing when the first agent you query doesn't jump up and down and *squee* with delight, shoving a contract in your face and begging for the right to represent you.

A friend of mine just had her memoir accepted for publication at a small press after (get this) 39 rejections from agents and larger presses. This woman is a brilliant writer and her memoir is amazing. And she still got 39 rejections. And here I am feeling down in the dumps because I've received fewer than 10 rejections from agents I've queried for my paranormal romance.

So here I am summoning perseverance - the drive to continue polishing and revising my manuscript (because nothing is ever perfect), and pluck so I don't lose patience and slide into the doldrums. I figure, as long as I learn from any comments I receive from agents and/or contest judges, and I'm able to make my manuscript better because of it, then at some point an agent is bound to *squee* for me!

How about you?

O is for Onward

2011-04-18T09:38:00.000-05:00

Today is O-Day for the A-Z Challenge. Can you believe we're at O already? April has flown by!

So today I'm going to continue the Happy Acres Tales wherein all the characters are telling how they got to be at Happy Acres.

****************

Mia's Tale

"The zombies wanted to dance a mambo at Burger King?" Artie asked. I couldn't blame him for being confused. It takes some practice to keep up with Mia.

"Oh, yes. That is where the main conflict arrived," Mia said. "But firstly, the tale comes in two parts. Me and the zombies were not always a team. There was a day when I was zombie-free."

I couldn't imagine that. Mia and zombies went together like cupcakes and sprinkles, Shaggy and Scooby, pork and beans.

"They just showed up one day on my doorstep," she continued, "and the longer I looked the more I began to like them and tadaa! Somehow we all decided to stick together. That, and after I saw the note pinned to their foreheads that said, 'take care of us,' I needed to. Defs. So that is how it started."

"And you took them to Burger King to dance and eat the customers?" T-Bone asked.

"Oh no. It was all just a big out of context misunderstanding, you see. The zombies like to mambo, and they like the shiny paper crowns at Burger King. So anyhoodles, it was the thing to do! But of course the local werewolves were there, because they are addicted to Whoppers with extra cheese."

"Werewolves," Simon said.

"Most defs. But werewolves have a longstanding dislike of zombies and vice versa. And we can see where this is going!"

Tessa nodded gravely, because clearly she saw where this was going. The rest of us just hung on for the Mia-ride.

"When the fight broke out, there was much chaos and fighting and me in the middle of it," Mia said. "The fries were flying and ketchup splattered and growling everywheres. And this is where it turned into not the zombies fault at all. When the authorities arrived, everybody disappeared, except for me, of course. Zombies are tres fabsies at hiding and werewolves are like ninjas. So I was a little, 'heeheehee, those sillies,' and all covered in ketchup and maybe with a golden paper crown, and with all the overturned tables and such, they might have taken it out of context a little."

"How could they not," Simon said.

"Apparently invisible werewolves are a hard idea to swallow, so they stamped me as delusional and maybe with a touch of madness, and sent me here. But for certain the zombies had a safety plan. I knew it when they showed up here with crayons and cupcakes and ready to settle in."

"The way I understand it," Artie said, "aside from finding humans tasty, there are some legends that claim zombies are attracted to people with dark pasts."

"Oh, that is tres truthful, Smartie Artie, but something else is that zombies are loyal protectors too. Give them some hotdogs and cupcakes and after that human flesh is no thank you for them, and they will be your friend forever. So we are here to hide from the head honcho werewolf dude. He is non too happy about us disrupting his peaceful Burger King meal."

"You can hardly blame him for that," Tessa said.

Mia nodded. "I agree. Burger King meals are better uninterrupted. It was all a big misunderstanding. But werewolves are notoriously unforgiving. Thankful goodnessly, werewolves are allergic to the smell of hospitals and all places medical, so see? The zombies were heroes for thinking of this plan!"

"Well, I for one am glad you and the zombies are here, Mia," I said, giving her a squeezy hug. "Happy Acres would be nearly intolerable without you."

Mia blushed. "It is the best place to be, for perfect."

"So," I said. "Who's next? Simon or Artie?"

N is for New Blood

2011-04-16T15:39:00.000-05:00

Today is N-Day for the A-Z Challenge. I'm taking an intermission in the telling of the Happy Acres residents' tales to give you all a heads up.

I reached 200 followers this week and I thought it would be fun to have a contest/blogfest to celebrate. I wondered, hmmm, what could I do for said blogfest?

I've been thinking recently that Happy Acres needs new blood. I need more characters to work with. For those of you unfamiliar with the Happy Acres saga, it's an ongoing serial I've been working on which originated with the Invasion of the Bloggy Snatchers blogfest back in August 2010, where the idea was to write a blog post using other bloggers as characters. Happy Acres is set in a mental institution, and I've morphed some fellow bloggers into inmates.

I often write new episodes for other blogfests, and for the A-Z Challenge, letters I through M have so far been Happy Acres tales.

I thought it would be fun to have a contest/blogfest where you can enter for the chance to have a namesake character in Happy Acres! I haven't worked out all the details yet, but it will definitely take place after the A-Z Challenge when everyone has more time. I'll probably have you write a short piece describing how your character came to be at Happy Acres.

So stay tuned for more details! Because you know you want a namesake at Happy Acres. I'll have more information for you as soon as I work it all out.

In the meantime, enjoy the rest of the residents' tales of how they came to be Happy Acres. (You can catch up on the rest of the episodes at the "Happy Acres Episodes" link above, and I to M of A-Z).

M is for Meringue

2011-04-15T09:06:00.005-05:00

Today is M-Day for the A-Z Challenge, and Wendy Ryan's Blogaversary Blogfest. Since I'm powering through the Happy Acres tales, I'm going to try to combine them. For Wendy's fest, participants are supposed to incorporate these M-words: misty, mambo, moon, musk(y), mongrel, myth. I asked the Happy Acres characters' namesakes for ideas about how their characters ended up in Happy Acres, and they've come up with some pretty great tales! So read on....

***************
Tessa's Tale

"Okay, Tessa. Tell us your tale," I said.

"Though I suspect it will be difficult to top puppets," Artie added.

"Oh, nosies!" Mia chimed in. "Do not mistakenly underestimate Tessa! I think her story will be fabsies!"

Still standing in the middle of the room, and with all eyes on her, Tessa sighed and smiled as if remembering a fond memory in the misty past, not one that landed her in the looney bin.

"It all started with a poppyseed raspberry rum meringue tart," she said. Tessa used to be a pastry chef. "Most people believe the perfect tart is just a myth. But I know better. And my dream was to create perfection"

We all nodded dutifully.

"But they can be very, very tricky. I'd been working at it for hours. First, I tried the ground poppyseed dough, but the first attempt was a stinky musky mess. Too many poppyseeds. But after I finally got it right, the raspberry custard refused to achieve the proper consistency. AT ALL!" she said, stomping her foot. A little red glitter drifted from her pocket to the floor.

"Did you get it fixed?" I asked.

"My boss told me to leave it, that I was taking it too personally," she said, crossing her arms. "But I had to get it right, didn't I? I mean, I'd already used like a gazillion eggs. I couldn't waste it now. Besides, it was me or that silly tart, and I wasn't about to let the tart get the better of me. No way!"

"I can totes relate to that, for certain," Mia said.

"So even though it was after midnight and the moon was mocking me, I had to try again. And I did. But this time it turned into eggy raspberry jello! Completely useless! I tried again and again, until sometime the next day, I finally got it right. But then Jeff happened."

"Who's Jeff?" Bill asked.

"My boss's mongrel nephew. He's a big stupid head and used some of the egg whites I needed for my shiny meringue, FORCING me to weigh the eggwhites to figure out how much sugar I needed. Can you imagine? But I kept on going. And the tarts would be magical when I was finished. I just knew it. So I whipped those eggwhites to perfection, plopped them in a bain marie until everything was a beautiful shiny whiteness, and I teased up loverly soft peaks."

She closed her eyes and sighed her delight. I could almost picture the tarty goodness. But when she opened her eyes again, her brows came together and I knew something big and bad was on the way.

"But then when I reached for the little torch I use to make my meringue a perfect golden color, that awful evil Jeff had stolen it off to whatever lalaland he'd vanished to. I was left torchless! Two days. Two days I'd been working on these tarts, only for Jeff to ruin everything. Well, I wouldn't accept defeat. Uh uh. So I tried the oven, but I couldn't control the temperature and...."

Tears rolled down her face and her shoulders slumped, just before she collapsed into a heap on the floor. We all rushed to her side.

"What? Tessa, what happened?" I asked.

"They burned," she sobbed.

"You ended up here because you burned some meringue?" Artie asked, confused.

"I think someone decided it wasn't so healthy that three days later I was still trying over and over to make the perfect meringue," she said, wiping her tears. "But I never gave up. Even when they traded my pretty white chef coat for another pretty white coat, I was still determined."

"You have seen the enemy, and it is meringue," T-Bone said.

"It is Jeff," said Simon.

"Maybe I should have just made cupcakes," Tessa said, defeated.

"Or donuts," I added.

"It is tres okay," Mia said. "You are safe from the evil meringue monster in here with us. The zombies will for defs be super happy to protect you. It is what they do, after all."

"Is that how you ended up in here, Mia?" Artie asked, "because of the zombies?"

"Oh no, it was totes not their fault," Mia said. "All they wanted was to dance a little mambo at Burger King."

L is for Looney

2011-04-14T14:54:00.003-05:00

Today is L-Day at the A-Z Challenge, and, of course, today is another day of the Happy Acres saga. When last we left our crazy friends, they were sharing the stories of how they came to be at Happy Acres. I apologize for how long this episode is. It got away from me.

*****************
Bill's and T-Bone's Tale

"I choose to wait for my turn," Simon said, putting on his best monarchical air. "As king it's my prerogative."

Mia snorted. "That is no way any kind of truth. We all know it except for maybies you. The zombies are totes convinced that you are simply what they call a duck."

"Don't you mean a chicken?" Artie asked.

"Oh nosies," Mia said. "Poultry is in no way involved."

Artie's brows came together in confusion.

"Just go with it," I said. "She means Simon is ducking the potential discomfort of revealing anything about himself."

"If Simon's ducking out," Tessa said, looking around the room in earnest. "Then who's next?"

Another awkward silence settled while we all watched each other, waiting for a volunteer. T-Bone and Bill exchanged a glance, and Bill sighed in resignation. "We'll go next," he said.

Bill and T-Bone had been here before me, so I was curious to hear their tale.

"I'm afraid of puppets," Bill said, then stopped. I think we were supposed to infer the rest.

"Then why do you wear one on your hand?" Artie asked when Bill didn't continue.

"The story's a lot longer than that," T-Bone said. "Ya see, when Billy was a boy he was ascared of puppets the same way some folks are ascared of clowns or monsters under the bed."

Mia shuddered. "Zombies are for defs afraid of the crawly things under the bed. And in closets. Very not good."

"Then one day in school," T-Bone continued, "the teacher put on a puppet show teachin the class about proper dental hygiene. He asked Billy to stand in front of the class and let the puppets show the other children, on him, how to properly brush teeth."

Bill whimpered behind T-Bone, and T-Bone patted him on the shoulder.

"Billy dint care for all those puppets all up in his face. Billy don't really like to have his head touched by anyone, truth be told, but least of all puppets. It was a lil more than he could handle, and his poor little self just kind of went blank inside. He ran screamin and hollerin out of the classroom and the school nurse finally found him curled in a little ball in the girl's bathroom. That's when I showed up to rescue him."

"So Bill's been here since he was a kid?" Tessa asked, in awe.

"Naw. I helped him through that rough spot, along with the aid of some professionals. He was fine for a while, but refused to live in houses with closets, and always kept his bed directly on the floor. No bed frames to allow for space underneath, ya know? And a'course he stayed away from puppets of any kind. Had a bit of a tough time with the Muppet Show, but with my help he got through it."

"So how'd he end up here?" I asked.

"Billy grew up to be a teacher, convinced he could do a better job protecting little souls than his teachers had. One day he took the children to the art museum, wantin to enrich their hearts with art. Unfortunately, he picked a time that the museum had a special exhibit on the history of puppetry. Taken unawares, Billy led the students into the room, not knowin what evil lurked therein. When faced with the horror of puppets hanging from the ceiling, in glass cases, lounging on tables, and waiting to pounce on him from curtained windows, well, Billy lost it big time."

Mia's eyes were wide, and she leaned into the story, hanging on T-Bone's every word.

Tessa swallowed hard. "What happened to him?"

"The door was blocked by all the children, so he was trapped in the room with no escape. His eyes rolled up into his head and he muttered to himself as his knees buckled and he went to the floor like a sack of rocks. When he came to, I was there protecting him from all the hideous beasties. But he couldn't cope out there in a world full of puppets, so we came here."

"Wow," Mia said. "The zombies are totes in awe that you survived a puppet apocalypse. That is no easy feat at all, no sir."

"Zimbabwe," Bill whispered.

"What's with Zimbabwe, anyway?" Simon asked. "I could understand calling upon Scotland in your times of need, but Zimbabwe?"

"Billy is convinced that Zimbabwe is the only corner of the world free from puppet influence," T-Bone said. "Other than Happy Acres."

"How lucky you ended up in Happy Acres!" Tessa said, bouncing in her seat, a little cloud of golden glitter floating from her pocket. "Of all the places you could have gone, what are the chances you'd end up at the one puppet-free safety zone?"

"Yeah, it defies explanation," I said.

"Well," Artie said, clearing his throat. "That is quite a tale, Bill. And, er, T-Bone."

Tessa jumped off the couch and twirled. "This is so much fun, I can't stand it," she said. "Can I go next? Please, oh please oh please?"

K is for Kindred

2011-04-13T10:06:00.002-05:00

Today is K-Day for the A-Z Challenge, and I'll be continuing the Happy Acres saga. Yesterday's post must have been too depressing, because nobody commented. Unfortunately, mental institutions can't be all fun and games! But we're going to continue on our journey, learning how each of the crew found themselves at Happy Acres.

*****************
Interlude

"Okay, wait a teensy jiffy here," Mia said, standing from the couch and pacing to the window. "That story was all kinds of sadness. I need a..."

"Cupcake?" Tessa asked.

"No," Mia said. "I need air."

"Cuz I'd like a cupcake," Tessa said, ignoring Mia's plea. "Cupcakes fix everything. No matter what."

"I told you this was a bad idea," I said, glowering at them, not at all ready to let anyone off the hook for making me go through this. "Why do you think we don't talk about this stuff in group?"

"It's scary," Bill said.

"We's all bat-shit crazy," T-Bone added.

"Indeed," Simon said, cocking a sardonic brow. But still he fidgeted just the slightest bit, knowing he was next.

We sat quietly, absorbing my story. In short order I'd just undone all the hard work I'd put in since getting here, working at coming off as flip and maybe even tough. Nothing like a suicide attempt to strip you bare.

Nobody met my gaze, finding other things to see, and I could only imagine they were scrambling for excuses to avoid taking their turn. But Artie surprised me.

From his chair in the corner, he regarded me. "That took courage, Em. You should be commended. You and I? We're kindred spirits, despite our obvious differences." He dropped his gaze and studied his hands in his lap. "I understand how loss can send a person over the edge."

His kindness took the edge off my shame, and I sat up a little straighter.

"We're all kindred spirits," Tessa said. "Or we wouldn't be here."

"You're right, Tessa. We're all friends here..." I started.

"Family," Mia said from the window. "We're all totes family. For certain."

"Right. We're family. So let's get through this. I'm sure we'll all need a truck load of cupcakes and plenty of supplemental oxygen once it's done," I said, skeptical we'd even survive this exercise. I was already an emotional wreck.

Tessa's eyes glazed over as she stared into the middle distance, "A whole truck load of cupcakes!"

Mia clapped, making her way back to the couch. "Yay! Go, go, go, Simon! Your turn. Tell us your tale."

J is for Jaded

2011-04-12T15:10:00.005-05:00

Today is J-Day for the A-Z Challenge. My post is a continuation of yesterday's Happy Acres episode.

*******************
Em's Tale

"So how did you end up in Happy Acres, Em?" Tessa asked, kneeling on the floor at my feet like some strange supplicant.

I closed my eyes and remembered the long red ribbons that slipped from my wrists and puddled on the floor of the bathroom.

Opening my eyes didn't make the memory any less vivid. I cleared my throat. "I got depressed and it seemed like I'd be safer in here."

"That's it?" T-Bone asked. "A little depression and you go runnin' for cover?"

The last straw, the one that had broken my will to live, had been my cat dying. I'd spent years of careful and meticulous practice, burying the pain other people are so good at inflicting, until I was blissfully numb. But I loved my cat.

"I tried to hurt myself," I offered as added explanation. "My cat died. I couldn't help it."

In the bathroom after my cat died was only a formality. I'd already died a little bit every time my mother snuggled up to Jack Daniels and forgot I existed. And I'd died a little bit more every time my father chose work over his family. After I grew up, every time I forced myself to leave the house I died some more, hiding excruciating shyness behind indifference and bravado.

"You mind yourself, T-Bone," Mia said, waggling an angry finger at him. "Whatever brought you here hurt so bad it split you and Bill in halvsies."

"Zimbabwe," Bill whispered, his head dipped in contrition.

The funny thing was that I'd hoped the grief, and all the rest of the pain, would slide from my wrists like snake venom and I'd finally be cleansed and free. But the joke was on me, because the puddle got bigger, but the pain stayed the same. I tried adding tears, but even as they fell, I just couldn't drain myself enough to make it all go away.

"But how'd you get here?" Tessa asked.

I choked a kind of half laugh. "The landlord found me. Routine inspection or something. When I didn't answer the door, he let himself in. The rest, as they say, is history," I said, trying to lighten the mood from dangerously close to despair.

"Your cat died?" Simon asked, clearly not understanding all the subtext.

"I really loved my cat," I said. That was all the explanation I could afford. "If you think your story's so much better, how'd you end up here?"

I is for Ink Blots

2011-04-11T10:11:00.000-05:00

Today is I-Day for the A-Z Challenge! I've kind of been goofing around with this challenge so far, but I've decided to dedicate a few of the days to more episodes of Happy Acres. For those of you new to my blog, Happy Acres is an ongoing episodic story involving patients at a mental institution. You can catch up with the rest of the episodes at the Happy Acres Episodes link above. I'll try to keep these A-Z Challenge episodes shorter, but sometimes the characters get away from me.

******************
We all sat in the common room dutifully waiting for Dr. Rutherford to make his grand entrance for our group session. We knew he liked to be fashionably late, and he never fooled us with his excuses. For some reason he thought it added to his air of authority when in reality he probably needed group as much as we did.

Artie cleared his throat. "This is my first group session, what can I expect?"

"Well," I said. "Doc likes to ease into sessions, like we're just sitting around chatting."

"Like we's homies," T-Bone said.

Artie shot T-Bone a wary look, still uncomfortable with Bill's puppet alter-ego.

"Mostly, he starts off with how pretties the weather is outside. Like for today he will say, 'oh how lovely is the April day, 'tis warm and rain is falling freshly and the blooms are blooming and the birdies atweeting and all is right with the world,'" Mia said, a frown forming as she spoke.

"Which is fine for him," Simon said, "because he can leave here and enjoy it."

"But it's maybe the teensiest bit discouraging for us," Mia said in her little sad voice. "I admit, it makes the zombies sad."

I reached across the couch and gave her hand a squeeze. No one said anything, the moment extending as we tried to remember what it felt like to enjoy spring in the real world.

"I have an idea!" Tessa said, perking up. "Let's tell stories while we wait!"

"What kind of stories?" I asked.

"Well," Artie started. "I'd be interested to know how each of you came to be at Happy Acres."

"Zimbabwe," Bill said, all gloom and doom.

We all squirmed a bit in our seats. That question came a little too close to being therapeutic.

"I don't know about that, Artie," I said. "Can't we maybe talk about our favorite foods or something?"

"No!" Tessa said, jumping up from her seat and twirling amid a shower of sparkly glitter before settling between me and Mia. "I think it's a perfect idea. And whoever tells their story the best gets a prize!"

"What prize?" Bill asked.

"How about extra outside time?" Simon asked. "We can each donate five minutes of our outside time to the winner."

"Yay! That's a fabsies idea!" Mia said.

"Em?" Tessa asked. "Will you play?"

I groaned. Sharing wasn't something I liked to do. "Fine," I said finally.

Tessa clapped and glitter drifted to the floor. "So, who'll go first?"

If there had been crickets in the common room, they would have been chirping in the silence. Finally, I heaved a deep and pained sigh. "I'll go first," I said, as if volunteering to test the electric chair.

H is for Hey! I missed H!

2011-04-10T12:07:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was H-day for the A-Z Challenge. Again, my title is a major cop-out, and for that I apologize.

I totally missed H-Day because I was traveling on Amtrak. A trip that should have lasted 12 hours stretched into 21.

Here's the thing: Spring in North Dakota inevitably means flooding. Apparently a segment of the tracks we were supposed to take was flooded so we were shifted to another set of tracks which was meant primarily for freight traffic. Because we were just visitors on the freight tracks, freight trains took priority. We ended up sitting on shunts for hours waiting for freight trains to pass. We were told that our "sister train," (the train that runs the same route we were taking, Chicago to Seattle) that had left 24 hours prior to us, still hadn't reached its destination and was 28 hours late. Not encouraging news.

However, I find that sometimes these kinds of situations can result in something unexpected, even if it's only that you meet people you never would have met otherwise. I met an interesting young woman studying opera on the west coast. She'd gone home for spring break in the midwest to visit family, and was heading back to school. We talked and she shared her extensive DVD collection with me to pass the time.

It was a brief little situational comararadie and, as any other writer knows, those kinds of things can be inspirational gold. Sometimes you meet real people who are so much better than anything you could create on your own and they inspire new characters.

So although it was a long trip and by the time we reached my station I was exhausted and in desperate need of a shower, I didn't feel at all cheated or upset. I felt like I'd been given this secret little gift of suspended time and place.

Have you ever found good in a situation that could have been bad?

G is for Gah!

2011-04-08T17:40:00.001-05:00

Today is G-day for the A-Z challenge.

My title is (somewhat) tongue-in-cheek. Yesterday I detailed how I am attending an early British literature conference this weekend. Keep in mind that I am a creative writer and if pressed to identify a period of literature with which I most identify, or with which I have most experience, it would definitely be contemporary. Or at the very least, 20th Century.

I am way, way, way out of my league here.

I've read the requisite Beowulf, Chaucer, Gawain and the Green Knight. I've even read and written papers on some Arthurian romances, on The Seafarer, and even on Lady Mary Wroth's sonnet series, "Pamphilia and Amphilanthus."

But today was a seriously long day filled with tediously constructed papers on both the well-known as well as some fairly obscure early Brit lit. You know things are going downhill when, in a room filled with people for whom early Brit Lit is their lifeblood, you can look around and count the number of people nodding off.

I wondered if that was standard behavior for these kinds of conferences, having not attended many. Because once the day was over, all I heard was, "today was a great day," and "those were fascinating papers," and "I was impressed by the depth of research and discussion." How would they know if they snoozed through parts of it?

I'll admit that some of the papers were really good. But a lot of them I got lost in elevated language and grandiosity. And that's probably more a function of my lack of understanding or familiarity with the subject matter than the scholarship involved. I'm sure everyone else in the room followed along just fine. When they were awake.

I would much rather have gone to a writing conference than a literature conference. Unfortunately, I didn't find any nearby that I could afford or were interesting enough. Although after today, I may just have to adjust my definition of interesting.

So what's your experience been with these kinds of academic conferences?

F is for Fun! (and Fasionably late)

2011-04-07T14:38:00.000-05:00

Today is F-day for the A-Z Challenge, and as you can see, I'm Fashionably Late making my post. That's because I spent all night on an Amtrak train traveling to the Northern Plains Conference on Early British Literature.

If the train hadn't been 2-1/2 hours late so that I boarded at midnight, it probably wouldn't have been quite so bad. But now I'm at the hotel and I think a shower, food, and nap are in order before the Festivities begin.

Going to be lots of Fun times with all those wacky medievalists!

And for G-day tomorrow, in keeping with the early brit lit theme of the weekend, I may just post on Grendel...who knows. You'll just have to come back and find out!

E is for E-Mail

2011-04-06T08:47:00.001-05:00

It's E-day for the A-Z Challenge. Because I haven't planned these posts ahead of time, I sat and stared at the letter E for a long time this morning, wondering what the heck to write about. And because I had kind of a crappy day yesterday, I was utterly without inspiration.

I considered and rejected dozens of E-words until I finally settled on E-mail.

E-mail has completely changed the face of communication. I'm old enough (just barely!) to remember life before E-mail and the internet, back when you had to sit down and write a letter on a piece of paper and wait days as the postal service delivered it, and then more days to receive a response. We didn't know it then, but it was agonizing.

E-mail has thankfully made communicating nearly instant. On the one hand, for those of us who tend to be chronically impatient, E-mail is a godsend. On the other hand, E-mail has taken the personal out of mail.

I can remember the excitement of waiting for the mailman, and receiving personalized mail. My best friend and most of my family lived in another state, so it was a real treat to get letters. And writing letters is a lost art. When you take the time to put pen to paper, you're giving someone a little of yourself.

I still have bundles of handwritten letters between my great grandmother and great grandfather, I still have letters from my best friend (who died almost 20 years ago), and I still have letters from my grandparents (who are all passed now). There's just something about recognizing a loved-one's handwriting, knowing that when they took the time to sit down to write a letter, for that brief amount of time, they were thinking only of you. It's like having a little piece of that person with you all the time.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't ever give up E-mail. I can't remember how the world functioned before E-mail and internet. It was excruciatingly slow, that's for sure. But sometimes in our rush for progress we lose sight of the simple, personal touches that keep us connected on a human level, and I think that's a dangerous place to go.

So what do you think? Does E-mail (and progress) cause us to be less compassionate? More distant? Or am I just being melancholy today? Can you remember the days of handwritten letters?

D is for Dakota (the North one)

2011-04-05T07:10:00.003-05:00

Today is D-day for the A-Z Challenge, and since I live in North Dakota, I thought it might be fun to give you a little insight into what it's like to live in the country's (almost) least populated state.

Total population: (about) 672,000
Entered the union: 1889 (acquired as part of the Louisiana Purchase)

State tree: American Elm
State Bird: Mosquito (ha! - not really. That's more like the state joke).
State Bird (really): Western Meadowlark.
State beverage (!): Milk (I would have guessed Bud Light)
State flower: Wild prairie rose.
State dance: Square dance.

North Dakota is the most rural of all the states with farms covering over 90% of its land. Recently oil exploration has been booming in the west of the state and there's an emerging wind energy industry as well. We currently have among the nation's lowest unemployment at around 3%.

Some famous names from North Dakota: Warren Christopher, Angie Dickinson, Louis L'Amour, Peggy Lee, Roger Maris, Eric Sevareid, Lawrence Welk, Sakakawea (the rest of the country pronounces it wrong).

So what's it like to live in North Dakota? Well, it's ultra-conservative here, the primary religions are Catholic and Lutheran, and people here take their religion very seriously. Hunting and gun ownership is high. And it's kind of freaky knowing that there are nuclear weapons planted all over the countryside.

As a left-leaning independent who doesn't practice any organized religion and doesn't own any guns, needless to say, I don't really fit in. I'm not native to the state...I grew up on the West Coast. However, there are pockets of more liberal thinking, mostly at the state universities.

That being said, North Dakota is a pretty cool place to live. The crime is ridiculously low and the geography is stunningly beautiful. The weather is extreme, but once you've adjusted to it, it's no big deal. It adds to the beauty. And although I disagree with the ideology most people here live by, they are, for the most part, easy to get along with. Since I've lived here I have never once locked my car or house, and I feel safe giving my kids freedoms here I never would anywhere else in the country.

So although there are some trade-offs, it's been a pretty good place to live!

C is for Crunch Time

2011-04-04T08:09:00.002-05:00

Here we are at day C for the A-Z Challenge, and the first c-word that comes to my mind is crap because I had a cool post all written for Crunch Time and then I pushed the wrong button and *poof* it went bye bye. Maybe that'll teach me to be prepared and write ahead of time. Naw. I doubt it.

Which brings me back to Crunch Time. As in, I'm currently in the midst of crunch time for my MFA thesis. It wouldn't be so bad, but I just realized yesterday that my thesis needs to be in the hands of the thesis committee 2 weeks before the end of the semester. That leaves me, like 2 weeks to finish the revision so that I have at least a week to polish it, make copies, put it in thesis binders, take it to the post office and mail it priority mail.

Crunch Time.

Thankfully I have the first draft and a scene list to work from. A screenplay needs to be approximately 90 pages finished, and I'm at page 60 of the revision, so I think I'm in pretty good shape. But I can't dilly-dally anymore. Time to step up, get butt in chair, and git-er-done (a phrase I sincerely loathe).

I'm sure all you writer people are familiar with the idea of crunch time. Deadlines are common in writing, and I look forward to the day when I have an agent and must face all kinds of deadlines. Those crunch times will be good.

So are you a methodical and organized writer, or a crunch time writer?

Agent Pitch Redux

2011-04-02T20:44:00.001-05:00

Credit: Margaret Dean

For those few of you who might show up here looking for my revised twitter-length pitch for Shelley Watters' Epic Follower Blogfest/Contest, below are my original pitch and the two potential revisions.

Original: Fate has love and death plans for Holly McCray, whether she believes in him or not.

Revision One: Fate has love-and-death plans for Holly McCray, but she's never been one to accept fate without question, and she's not about to start now.

Revision Two: A fae warrior willing to risk his life to keep a promise, a woman bold enough to question Fate, and a prophecy that will bind them together.

Whatta ya think? Any better? Or back to the drawing board?

B is for Balloon - And Agent Pitch Redux

2011-04-02T09:00:00.001-05:00

Today is day two of the Great A-Z Blog Challenge, and since we are following alphabetic themes, today is B-day. Anyone here for the Epic Follower Blogfest/Contest, I will add my revised tweet-length pitch to this post later today. Stay tuned!

There are now nearly 1200 participants in the A-Z Challenge. Amazing! I think I managed to read about 25 of them yesterday. Everyone's coming up with awesome ideas to write about. It's going to be a fun month.

So what's my B-subject? Balloons. That's right. Balloons. Why? You ask. Well, Balloons are my nemesis. Nay, Balloons are my archenemy. Nemesis implies some sort of love lost, or some sort of potential for something other than outright loathing. There is none of that for me and Balloons.

You know how some people have irrational phobias against spiders (I hate them too, actually), heights, small spaces, open spaces, the number 13, and various and sundry other silly things? That's me with Balloons. They scare the crap out of me. I have no idea why. It's stupid and embarrassing and, of course, irrational. But I cannot be in a room with balloons or my heartbeat races, I get sweaty and panicky, I get all nauseous, and most of all I just want to escape.

I've been this way for as long as I can remember. Oddly, my mother has the same fear. I don't know if I ended up with it because it's a learned behavior from watching her when I was a small child, or some bizarre genetic twist of fate, but it is what it is. It defies explanation.

My kids have suffered through life never having owned a Balloon (as much as you can suffer from balloon deprivation - which I suspect isn't much), and my husband thinks I'm nuts (although he's so scared of spiders that when he sees one he screams like a girl, then swears like a sailor, and forces me to kill it).

But I can't help it. It's not something I can get over. I've tried. And, in the end, as it turns out, it's not so difficult to live a Balloon-free life.

So what's your phobia? C'mon, you know you have one. Everyone does!

A is for? - Plus Agent Pitch Contest!

2011-04-01T07:42:00.007-05:00

Today is the first day of the A-Z Challenge, which means we're starting with an A-topic today. Because I'm spontaneous (*cough*) I'll be coming up with a new topic daily, on the fly.

Today is also the first day of the Epic Follower Blogfest/Contest hosted by Shelley Watters, wherein authors are to post a twitter-length pitch and hope to win a full manuscript request from Agent Suzie Townsend.

1. In keeping with the alphabetic theme of the A-Z challenge, here is my Attempt at a twitter-length pitch for my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate:

Fate has love and death plans for Holly McCray, whether she believes in him or not.

It's only 82 characters long, so there's still wiggle room. Any comments or suggestions would be swell.

2. Back to the A-Z challenge. I thought about discussing Adverbs, but I figured other people could cover that. Besides, it's been overdone. We all know to avoid -ly adverbs and use stronger verbs.

3. Then I thought about discussing Anxiety. But this requires no explanation. We all understand. Please see #4.

4. Finally, I decided that Anticipation was a good subject because I've got a list of things I'm anticipating to the point of preoccupation:

1. I will graduate with my MFA in May. Halle-freakin-lujah.
2. Hubby will graduate with his BSE in May. Ya-freakin-hoo.
3. Oldest son graduates from high school in May. *sob*
4. I've sent queries to a bunch of agents. *bites nails* (see #2)
5. I've applied for a bunch of college/university teaching jobs. *ugh* *fidgets* *waiting....* (see #2)
6. Going on family vacation first 2 weeks of June. *can't wait*
7. Got a big tax refund. Waiting for the moolah. *taps foot*

Now, go read a few of the 900-ish other posts!

p.s. Another A-word: Award! Thanks to Christopher Ledbetter for this one.
He's so sweet for thinking of me!

Gearing up for A-Z

2011-03-31T14:07:00.000-05:00

I am one of the nearly 900 brave souls who have signed up for the A-Z April Blog Challenge hosted by Alex J. Cavanaugh et al.

During the month of April participants are to post daily except for Sunday, subjects progressing through the alphabet, starting on April 1st with A.

In the last few days I've seen lots of people who plan to participate posting that they've got all of their posts prewritten and scheduled ahead of time, or at the very least they've selected subjects for every day and they're all organized and prepared and ready to go.

I envy them.

I am not, nor have I ever been, that organized or prepared. I will be following my little pantser heart and flying by the seat of my - yes - pants. I will scramble on a daily basis for inspiration and to write something brilliant, insightful, or creative. But that's okay. I'm used to it. That's just the way I roll. Always have.

But I do envy people who have the time and gumption to be that organized. It might be a nice change of pace.

Thankfully, these posts are supposed to be short in order to facilitate quick reading so that we can all read and comment on as many posts as possible. The chances are small that anybody will make it through all 900 sites in a month, much less in a single day (FYI: I'm #590 on the list). So short and sweet will definitely win the day.

So come back tomorrow to see what I come up with for A. I still have no idea. It'll be as much a surprise to me as it is to you!

I'm definitely looking forward to reading as many other blogs as possible, meeting new people, finding new writer friends, and being inspired by awesome creativity!

Nature of Magic Blogfest

2011-03-26T10:59:00.003-05:00

It's time for Tessa's Nature of Magic Blogfest!

THE TASK:

Write or share something you've already written that, to you, shows the nature of magic. It can be an excerpt from your WIP, something you've written especially, poetry, whatever strikes your fancy. It just needs to show the nature of magic as it exists for you or for those you write about. Unless you're writing poetry, try to keep the entries somewhere between 250-1000 words.

MY ENTRY:

So of course I wrote another episode of Happy Acres, and as usual it's kind of long. It seems I can't write a short episode...they get away from me.

If you are behind on the episodes, you can go to the Happy Acres Episodes link above and catch up on this ongoing story.

*************************

I sauntered down the hall of Happy Acres as if I didn’t have plans to raid Nurse Cratchit’s office. Artie and Tessa sauntered behind me, as nonchalant as mental patients are capable of being.

When I reached Cratchit’s office I ducked inside, followed by Artie and Tessa, then peeked out the door, checking the hall first left then right. Cratchit was nowhere to be seen. Mia and the zombies had set themselves up to work on their crayon mural and act as our last warning of danger. Bill and Simon were in the day room acting as the first line of defense, ready to waylay any staff heading our direction.

“Okay, guys,” I said. “This is it. Fan out. Check the closet, all the drawers, anywhere she could hide fruit and writing utensils.”

“That could be anywhere,” Artie deadpanned.

“Then you’d better get busy,” I said.

Artie took the closet, Tessa went to work on the filing cabinet, and I started in on the desk. Two drawers in I hadn’t found any of our stuff, but I’d confiscated some lip balm, a box of paper clips, and some breath mints. There were plenty of pens, but not our pens. I took a couple anyway.

“Do you believe in magic?” Tessa asked, breaking the silence.

“What?” I asked, turning from my search to find her sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor, twirling her hair, and glitter spilling from her pocket. Where she got her endless supply of it, I could never figure out.

“Magic,” she repeated. “Where do you stand?”

“I didn’t know you could take a stand on magic,” I said. “And we really don’t have time for this discussion.”

“That’s easy,” Artie said. “It doesn’t exist. Now let’s get back to the search.”

“Em?” Tessa asked, her eyes telling me she’d be seriously disappointed if I agreed with Artie.

“Well,” I said. “I’m not so sure.”

“That’s sad,” she said.

“You’d better be careful who you talk to about magic, Tessa. You tell your shrink you believe in it you’ll end up with a couple extra pills in your drug cocktail every day,” I said, kneeling to help her with the bottom drawer in the cabinet since I’d finished my search of the desk.

“I’m not worried about that,” she said. “I’m more worried that nobody believes anymore.”

“Why would that bother you?” Artie asked, checking the toe spaces of a pair of boots in the closet. He was thorough.

“Because the power of magic is diminished when people don’t believe,” she said.

“Like fairies die when you don’t believe?” I asked, teasing her.

She took me seriously. “Exactly,” she said.

“That’s ridiculous,” Artie said. “The planet was still round even when everyone believed it was flat. And it was still viruses and bacteria that made people sick even when they believed it was mysterious humors that ruled the body. If there is such a thing as magic, it will still exist regardless of how many people believe in it.”

Tessa’s eyes lit up and a she grinned, “so you do believe?”

Artie rolled his eyes. “I do not believe in hocus pocus, magic wands and spells and potions, witches and wizards kind of magic. And I do not believe in fairies,” he said.

“But you believe in something, right?” Tessa asked, ever hopeful.

Artie just grunted.

Tessa apparently took that to mean yes. She clapped and tossed some glitter. “Yay! Now, Em. What about you?”

I shoved some files aside in the bottom drawer. “Well,” I said, thinking about Tonja and Tammy, my twin haunts. I had no way to explain them, though I wasn’t so sure they were magic, and the one and only time I told my shrink about them he insisted they were figments of my imagination. But I suspected there was more to them than that. "Let's just say I'm not ruling it out. There are plenty of things that defy rational explanation."

We all finished our searches and found nothing. “Where could she have put our stuff?” I asked, standing in the middle of the room, fists planted on my hips.

“Are you sure you checked all the desk drawers?” Artie asked, moving for the desk.

“Of course I did,” I said, insulted that he’d doubt my ability to execute a meticulous search of Cratchit’s office. It’s not like this was the first time, after all.

Artie pulled open the bottom drawer. “There’s a box in here,” he said, opening it. “Hey! Here’s my pen and pencil set.” He pulled it out and held it to his chest, sighing his relief. He pulled out several apples and a handful of pens, my favorite pink one among them. My scarf was the last item out of the box.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “I searched that desk completely. How could that be there?”

Tessa stood, giggling, and hugged me. “Magic, of course!”

She skipped out of the room humming ‘Do You Believe in Magic,’ tossing sparkly glitter in her wake.

*******************

Hope you enjoyed. Now go check out the rest of the entries!

Show Me The Voice Blogfest

2011-03-19T23:36:00.000-05:00

It's time for the Show Me The Voice Blogfest, hosted by Brenda Drake and judged by agent Natalie Fischer of the Bradford Literary Agency! Pretty awesome chance to get some feedback and get the first 250 words of your finished manuscript in front of an agent.

So I'm posting the first 250 words of my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate.

******************

Name: Mara Nash
Title: Faerie Fate
Genre: Paranormal romance

Holly Reed paced the hospital corridor outside room 532, uncertain if she wanted to enter and accept the consequences. On the other side of the door lay the grandmother she’d never met, apparently in the last losing days of her battle with lung cancer.

An orderly rushed by pushing an empty wheelchair, giving her a quizzical look. She smiled at him, trying to reassure him that she belonged, but feeling out of place. Arms crossed, she bit her lip and changed direction, passing her grandmother’s door again, still hesitant to enter. Across the hall at the nurse’s station, their eyes followed her progress back and forth.

“Can I help you with something?” one of the nurses asked, her voice suspicious.

“No,” Holly said, “I’m fine,” She’d have to decide soon before they called security and had her removed. She could either leave and spend the rest of her life wondering, or go in and find out why her grandmother had waited until she was on her deathbed to make her only granddaughter’s acquaintance.

Taking a deep breath she squared her shoulders. As the nurse glared at her and reached for the phone, Holly gave her a sweet, confident smile, and turned her attention to her grandmother’s room. The door was already ajar, so she leaned into it, swinging it inward on its hinges. She entered the room on silent feet to find an old woman resting peacefully in the bed. Sunshine fell bright on the floor and warmed the room, and a homemade afghan covered the woman’s feet.

*******************
Now go check out the rest of the entries!

Luck of the Irish Blogfest

2011-03-17T11:06:00.001-05:00

Today is the Luck of the Irish Blogfest, because today is, after all, St. Patrick's Day. The blogfest is hosted by the ever lovely Colene Murphy, a truly Irish name if I ever heard one.

So my submission to this blogfest is, of course, another episode of Happy Acres. A couple days ago I participated in the Delusional Doom Blogfest, wherein some of the crew's most prized possessions were confiscated by the nursing staff and they vowed to take back their stuff.

Today's entry is a continuation of that story (if you need to catch up, find links to the rest of the episodes at the Happy Acres Episodes page above). Happy Acres is an ongoing story, after all!

*******************

“We’ll be lucky if we can pull this off,” Artie said. I didn’t appreciate his doubt.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” I said, incensed. “You have to stop thinking like you’re on the outside. The laws of physics and normal human behavior are suspended here on the inside.”

We had gathered in the day room for one last review of our plan to liberate our confiscated personal effects.

“Maybe Simon could bless the mission, just in case.” Tessa said. “It is St. Patrick’s Day, after all.”

“Be happy to,” Simon said, a smug grin on his lips.

I shot Tessa a nasty glare, “What are you talking about? Simon’s Scottish, not Irish.”

Tessa shrugged, looking a little put out that I’d snap at her. “Close enough,” she said.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. We could use a little luck, but asking Simon for a blessing was like throwing gas on his megalomaniacal fire.

“Okay, fine, whatever, just make it quick,” I grumbled, folding my arms over my chest and tapping my impatient foot.

Simon cleared his throat and drew himself taller. “May the path rise to meet you, may your team always have your back, may the darkness always shroud you, may your mission meet with success, and until we meet again, may Nurse Cratchit remain entirely unawares.”

Mia giggled and clapped, “perfect!”

Tessa tossed a handful of sparkly glitter, which floated and drifted in the re-circulated institutional air almost like a magical leprechaun glimmer.

I blinked and found myself speechless. To my grudging surprise, I was touched. “Thanks, Simon,” I said. But since I considered him my nemesis, offering him thanks was just a little painful. I cleared my throat. “Okay, remember, you’re on guard duty. If Nurse Cratchit starts in our direction, your job is to distract her.”

Touching his brow he flicked me a quick salute. “Will do. Good luck.”

*************

Stay tuned for the foray into Nurse Cratchit's office to retrieve their stuff!

Now, go read the rest of the submissions to the Luck of the Irish Blogfest, and have an awesome St. Paddy's Day!

Delusional Doom Blogfest

2011-03-15T10:16:00.001-05:00

Today is the Delusional Doom Blogfest hosted by the Watery Tart!

In honor of the Ides of March when Julius Caesar met his doom, the Watery Tart has asked that for this blogfest we write a little something that predicts someone's death, plots a murder, or write an obituary for yourself or someone else.

Of course, as has become my obsession recently, at least where blogfests are concerned, I wrote another episode of Happy Acres. It follows immediately from yesterday's Broken Heart Blogfest entry.

It's kind of long (about 650), but at least I kept it under 1000 words!

Hope you enjoy!

****************

“I’m going to kill that stupid woman,” I said, pounding the table in the Happy Acres day room by way of emphasizing my desire to crush her head to a bloody pulp.

“Zimbabwe,” Bill muttered from his usual chair in the corner where he sat with his puppet alter-ego T-Bone. The drug-like after effects of visitor’s day had worn off and everyone was back to their mental illness baselines.

“What did she do this time?” Tessa asked, madly scribbling away at a New Idea with a purple marker across the table from me.

“She knew we’d all be out here with our visitors, so she did a room search while we were distracted,” I said, pounding the table again for emphasis. Tessa actually glared at me. She suffered from post-visitor letdown too.

“You know,” Artie said, “it’s fully within staff jurisdiction to do room searches. I read the rules.”

“Mr. Artie,” Mia chimed in from a spot on the floor where she and the zombies poured over a pile of magazines Mama Mia had brought for them. “I would suggest you not poke the bear when it’s angries. This is what we call a bad idea.”

Artie’s brows came together in genuine confusion. I tried to forgive him because he still didn't understand us all. He hadn't yet found his place in the Happy Acres family.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Em is moody,” Simon said from his perch on the couch.

“You should talk,” I growled at him.

“Did she take anything valuable?” Simon asked, feigning interest. But I knew he was only concerned about his own contraband inventory.

“Only the apples I’d hidden under my dirty laundry, a ballpoint, and the scarf Mama Mia brought me last month.”

“You hide fruit with you dirty laundry?” Artie asked, a troubled grimace on his face.

“Usually Cratchit skipsies the dirty undies,” Mia said. “They can be kind of yucky, if you know what I mean.”

“She must still be mad at you for the last call-button-in-the-coma-patients’ room incident,” Tessa offered.

“Why would she take a ballpoint?” Artie asked.

From his corner, Bill mimed T-Bone using a ballpoint to stab him in the neck. His eyes bugged large, and he spasmed in his chair as his imaginary blood drained from his jugular.

“Oh,” Artie said.

“I’d like to find that stash of confiscated ballpoints in her desk and turn her into an inky pin cushion,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I’m in,” Simon said.

“Me too,” Tessa said.

“Me and the zombies would totes abandon our nonviolence policy for that fun stabby party,” Mia said.

“Does that mean she confiscated my pen and pencil set?” Artie asked. I thought he was going to be sick.

“Zimbabwe,” Bill said, resignation in his voice.

“Those were a gift from my wife,” Artie said, his eyes narrowing and the muscles in his jaw tightening like springs.

He stood, his hands fisting at his sides. All eyes went to Artie, the now-ticking time bomb.

“Hey, Artie, man,” I said. “Look, as much as I really, really want to go all voodoo doll on Nurse Cratchit, let’s just come up with another plan, okay?”

Artie turned his gaze on me and I made a mental note not to cross him. “Like what?” he asked.

“Well, I have just as much fun tricking her and making her look like an idiot. So let’s maybe plan a midnight raid on her office or something, okay?”

Mia clapped her hands and giggled. “Oh, goodies. Em is super good at sneaky covert ops. It’s always tons of fun.”

Tessa looked up from her project, a little smile forming on her lips. “That’s just what we need,” she said. “I’ll bring the glitter sprinkles.”

I’d explain later that glitter sprinkles would only implicate us. Not that Cratchit wouldn't know it was us, anyway.

Artie’s jaw relaxed a little and he took his seat again. “Are you sure I’ll get my pen and pencil set back?” he asked.

I could feel the sly smile form on my lips, “Oh, trust me, Artie. You’ll get that and more. She’ll never know what hit her.”

****************

Now go read the rest of them. I know I'm heading there right now. Can't wait to read more murder plotting....

Broken Heart Blogfest

2011-03-13T23:05:00.002-05:00

It's time for the Broken Heart Blogfest, hosted by Dawn Embers. The idea is to write something about broken hearts....show all the wretched emotions involved.

I, of course, wrote another episode of the Happy Acres saga. And if I can ever figure out how to do it, I'll post all the Happy Acres episodes on their own separate page so you can catch up on them all!

*****************

It’s visitor’s day here at Happy Acres and my brother promised he’d visit today. He said he’d bring me a Big Mac and another pile of romance novels.

About an hour ago Bill’s wife showed up, and she brought homemade chocolate chip cookies for everyone. I love it when she visits – not only for the cookies, but because Bill leaves T-Bone in his room, and it’s the only time I really get to see Bill’s smile, which is pretty good. It puts a little bit of happy into Happy Acres.

The best place to sit when waiting for visitors is on the arm of the couch, where there’s a straight line of sight to the ward door. By sitting up straight the hallway beyond the door is visible through the little square window. I sat vigil there all day, announcing visitors as they arrived.

After Bill’s wife, it was Tessa’s sister. She’s a hugger just like Tessa. They sat at the table in the day room looking at pictures and sharing news. Tessa held her sister’s hand, or touched her shoulder, or leaned into her, but never lost contact.

Mia’s mom showed up next with cupcakes, of course. We call her Mama Mia and she smiles and laughs and holds her daughter close, but I can tell that even though she puts on a happy front, somewhere underneath she blames herself that Mia's here.

Simon’s wife brought his little daughters today, which kind of surprised me because this is not a place for kids. But Simon scooped the girls up in a big hug, smooching kisses all over their little faces. I had to look away because my eyes stung and I got a lump in my throat that I had to swallow down. But at least Simon was on his best behavior, not even requiring his wife to address him as his majesty, or anything.

For two hours the room buzzed with energy, and everyone was on a kind of family love high that will keep them going for at least another day. But I still sat on the couch, waiting. I strained for a peek out the window, into the hall beyond, but all I could see were orderlies and nurses, going about their jobs. I still held out hope, though. My brother is always late for everything.

And even after Bill’s wife, Tessa’s sister, Mama Mia, and Simon’s family left, amidst a whirlwind of hugs and “I love you’s,” and my fellow inmates floated back to their rooms on their own personal waves of contentment, I still sat, waiting.

Artie, the new guy, sat on the couch behind me.

“I’m sorry your visitor didn’t show up,” he said. I glanced over my shoulder at him. He sat straight-backed and awkward, and I remembered the picture of the woman and girl I found when I snooped his room, and my heart broke for him. Artie’s wife and daughter were gone and he would never sit on the arm of this couch straining to catch a glimpse of his family on visitor’s day.

****************
Okay, so if you're not too depressed now, go check out the other entries and after you've finished reading them, you probably will be depressed. Or at least heartbroken!

Catch Me If You Can

2011-03-07T08:53:00.000-06:00

You all know I'm a sucker for blogfests. I just can't help myself. So when I saw this one this morning, I had to enter.

It's the Catch Me If You Can Blogfest, hosted by Kristina over at KayKay's Corner.

The idea of this fest is to post the first 500 or so words of your WIP in hopes of answering the question: does my WIP catch people's attention right away?

So my submission is the first 498 words of my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate. As it turns out, chapter one is super short...it's sort of a prologue disguised as a first chapter. So this submission is that entire first chapter, plus a little bit of chapter 2. Hope you likey!

**********************
****CH 1
Holly Reed slept curled in a tiny bundle, wrapped in her mother’s protective embrace, unaware of the two women who stood over her, watching.

“Do you think she has any idea how important she is?” Aine, Queen of all Fae, asked her own mother.

Gaea regarded her daughter, the queen, with a tender gaze. “Not if we do what we came to do, Aine.”

Moonlight fell through a gap in the curtains onto Holly’s little face, illuminating her pink cheeks. Aine stepped closer to the bed, brushed her fingers over the baby’s soft skin and sighed. “There’s so much to protect her from.”

“Indeed there is,” Gaea agreed. “Not the least of which is her own relatives.”

“Such a beautiful girl. Will she ever be happy?”

“Perhaps,” Gaea said, moving close behind Aine and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I may be the Mother Goddess, Darling, but there are powers beyond even my control.”

A furrow creased Aine’s brow, “Fate,” she said, disgust in her voice.

“He is a force unto himself, and one that, unfortunately, I can’t interfere with. All I can do is protect and do my best to prevent. The rest is up to him. And that brings us back to this little angel.”

“If she is the Redeemer it’s crucial we do everything we can to ensure she remains hidden.”

“The peace foretold in the prophecy has nearly reached its end,” Gaea said, smoothing Holly’s ebony hair. She shifted the edge of the old crazy quilt to expose the baby’s little shoulder, revealing a birthmark resembling a pair of overlapping rings. “This child is, indeed, the Redeemer. Fate has already marked her for that burden. She holds the fortune of two worlds in her little hands.” Gaea shook her head and sighed. “We can shield her now, but she can’t remain hidden forever.”

“Then let’s protect her as best we can so when the time comes she can fulfill her destiny,” Aine said, a chant beginning low in her throat as a glow danced over her skin.

“Let’s just hope it’s enough,” Gaea said, joining her voice to her daughter’s as they worked their protective magic on the unsuspecting pair.

**** CH 2
Holly Reed paced the hospital corridor outside room 532, uncertain if she wanted to enter and accept the consequences. On the other side of the door lay the grandmother she’d never met, apparently in the last losing days of her battle with lung cancer.

An orderly rushed by pushing an empty wheelchair, giving her a quizzical look. Across the hall at the nurse’s station, their eyes followed her back and forth.

“Can I help you with something?” one of the nurses asked, her voice suspicious.

“No,” Holly said, “I’m fine,” She’d have to decide now. Either leave and spend the rest of her life wondering, or go in and find out why her grandmother had waited until she was on her deathbed to make her only granddaughter’s acquaintance.

*****************

So there you have it. You're dying to know what happens next, right? Because you were sucked right into the story. Okay, so I hope you were anyway. Now, if you can tear yourself away, go check out the rest of the entries!

Gone But Not Forgotten

2011-03-03T09:33:00.005-06:00

This Gone But Not Forgotten blogfest is kind of a cool little fest hosted by Erinn, Alicia, Holly, Pam and Quinta.

The goal is to list your top 5 fave TV shows not making new episodes. They may be gone, but they are not forgotten!

So, here are mine (in no particular order):

1. Stargate SG-1

2. Sliders

3. That 70s Show

4. Stargate Atlantis

5. Pushing Daisies

Super Snooper Blogfest

2011-03-01T22:23:00.000-06:00

It's time for the Super-Snooper Blogfest, hosted by the lovely Alison, and (drum roll...) I'm actually posting on time!

The idea of this fest is to describe a setting that tells something about a character's personality. Tell us about the character through his or her stuff.

My entry is, of course, another episode of the Happy Acres saga. No setup necessary. It's kinda long, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

*****************

“Are we still clear?” I asked, my fingers itching to rummage.

“Yep,” Tessa replied, pirouetting and tossing sparkly confetti.

We have a new inmate at Happy Acres, and as is our tradition when someone new joins our little family, we must ransack his property in order to learn his deepest darkest secrets.

“Is Bill still distracting Nurse Cratchit?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, yesssss!” Tessa sang, continuing her hallway dance in a glittery cloud.

“Stop it, Tessa. You will draw attention to our tripsie into Mr. Artie’s stuffs,” Mia said, waggling a finger at Tessa by way of chastising her.

I surveyed New Guy Artie’s room. His bed sported crisp, sharp hospital corners, flat, smooth blanket, and wrinkle-free pillow case. I had no clue how he managed to sleep on the pillow but leave no wrinkles. My pillow resembled the rest of my bed - utter disarray.

“Are you finding anything funsies, Em?” Mia asked in a stage whisper from the hall where she and her zombies worked diligently on another crayon wall mural.

“Any cupcakes?” Tessa asked.

“No. I don’t think he’s the cupcake type,” I said. “Maybe lima beans, but not cupcakes. What’s going on out there?”

Artie’s nightstand was laid out like a graph paper grid. Back left quadrant = square-based lamp placed equilateral to the corner of the nightstand; front right quadrant = square-based clock, also equilateral to the corner; back right quadrant = square box of tissue (Puffs Plus with lotion!), again equilateral to the corner; front left quadrant = an empty spotless plastic cup (no glass allowed, we might break it and slit our wrists, or each others’ throats), also square-based and also (big surprise) equilateral to the corner.

I sensed a theme with this guy.

Tessa did a little jete then leaned in the doorway. “Bill and T-Bone are confusing Nurse Cratchit. She doesn’t know which personality she’s talking to,” she said, giggling.

“And Simon is trying to recruit Mr. Artie to his royal courtsie,” Mia said.

From my search so far, I’m guessing Mr. Artie won’t be Simon’s court jester.

I pulled open the nightstand drawer and found a notepad perfectly centered inside the drawer and framed by a pen on one side and a pencil on the other. Otherwise, the drawer was empty. Hmm. So far, so boring.

I turned my attention to the desk. The left side cubby contained an arrangement of textbooks: accounting, financial investment, Excel, IRS tax code, and I don’t know what else because I lost interest. The right side cubby was full front to back with what must be the complete collection of Louis L’Amour, organized alphabetically by title.

The top of the desk held a laptop, perfectly centered, and polished to a high shine.

“Come on, Artie,” I said to myself. “There’s got to be something in here to save you from terminal dullness.”

A calendar hung on the wall, but not one with pretty pictures of gardens or beaches of the world, or national parks or even naked women (or men). No, this calendar was the height of utilitarian – word of the day. Today’s word: ineffable. I wanted to add to the definition: Not Artie.

“Oh!” Tessa said, sounding like a hoot owl. “Cratchit’s coming! Hurry!”

I stood back to make sure nothing was out of place, and that’s when I saw it, something tucked in one of the books, just barely jutting above the pages. I pulled the book out and pinched the thing, sliding it out and discovered a photograph. A pretty dark-haired young woman stood in front of a house with a smiley, curly-headed little girl in her arms. The little girl waved at the camera.

“Hurrying up now would be extra good, Em,” Mia said in a sing-songy voice from the hall.

I swallowed hard and slid the picture back into the book, then pushed the book back onto the shelf. Damn, I hate when I find the new guy has a soft mushy spot. It means I have to play nice.

Tessa met me at the door and took my hand, swinging me into a twirly dance move just as Nurse Cratchit caught up with us, none the wiser. She gave us a suspicious once over, humphed at us, then continued down the hall, her practical rubber-soled shoes squeaking her progress on the brown linoleum.

**************
There you have it! No go check out the rest of the entries!

Totally My Idiom Blogfest

2011-02-18T17:46:00.000-06:00

Well, this is incredibly late, since the This Is Totally My Idiom blogfest was yesterday. But I'm finally managing to get my entry posted...a day late and a dollar short (you see what I did there? I used an idiom). Anyway, thanks to Delia for hosting!

I couldn't decide on one idiom, so I put a few in there. This is another episode of the Happy Acres saga, and it's really super long, and for that I apologize. I just couldn't find the end of it!

*************

Things had settled back into their usual routine at Happy Acres since I'd triumphantly slain the Zombie King. The souls of each and every one of my friends were safe and sound thanks to me, not that they appreciated what I’d done, since most of them didn’t believed the Zombie King ever existed.

“As King of Scotland, I command you to cease this nonsense talk about Zombie Kings,” Simon said from his perch on the couch, surrounded by his imaginary literary babes. And twirling his icy glass of contraband vodka. At 10:00 a.m.

“I will not!” I said, stomping my foot. I’d had enough of everyone doubting me. “Mia? If anyone here can defend me, it’s you. You know the truth about the Zombie King. I single-handedly rescued you and your zombies from him.”

Mia left the wall where she and her zombies used their newest box of crayons to color a post-apocalyptic mural, and met me in the middle of the room. She took my hand in hers, “You know I owe you big times for that, for defs. The zombies are totes hero-worshipping on you and everything. They’ve so even been urging me to throw you a special cupcake party because you are like their sparkly champion.”

“Are you trying to guilt-trip me for not believing this Zombie King malarkey?” Simon asked.

“Shotgun!” Bill called from his chair.

Mia shot him an ugly glare, but Bill remained oblivious.

“What are you talking about, Bill?” I asked.

“If we’re going on a trip, I call shotgun,” he answered.

“Do not say the S-H-O-T-G-U-N word,” Mia said.

“Why not?” Simon asked.

“Because the zombies do not like it. It makes them mad,” Mia answered.

“Who cares if the zombies get mad. They’re just a bunch of cupcake eating sissies, anyway,” Simon said, taunting her. The literary babes giggled.

“They are not sissies,” Mia said, defending her friends. “They’re sensitive, I keep telling you. They’ve been through a lot, you know. First the whole trauma of being infected. That was not easy to accept. The biting. The dying. It was very icky for them. See? Talking about it still makes them all mopey.”

She was right, the zombies had stopped coloring and were hanging their heads and patting each other on the back.

“Shotgun,” Simon said, a smirk on his face.

“Simon, you’ve been warned,” Mia said, wagging a finger at him. “This is the last one. You are provoking them. You will not like the zombies when they are angry. If you hurt their feelings they will take action. I promise you.”

“What are they going to do, cry on me?” he asked.

“You do not want to know,” Mia said.

“Rip off an arm and beat me over the head with it?” Simon asked.

“That is gross. The zombies are pacifists and do not believe in violence. Unless you provoke them. Then they will resort to cranky behavior,” Mia said, dismissing Simon and heading back to comfort her zombies.

“SHOTGUN,” Simon called across the now silent common room. All eyes bounced back and forth between Simon and Mia.

“Um, Simon. You might want to cool it,” I said, noting that Mia’s lips were set in a thin, firm line.

“We have been over this, you will address me as Your Majesty, or Your Highness. If you must address me at all,” he said, only glancing in my direction briefly, then returning his attention to Mia..

“You’re not the king of anything,” I said. “We’re all kind of tired of your delusions of grandeur.”

“They’re not delusions,” Mia said, her voice quiet and even, a sweet little smile on her lips.

“Thank you, Mia,” Simon said, thinking he’d won a major battle.

“They’re overblown fantasies. Hallucinations. Flights of fancy. Mirages. Castles in the air,” she said, delivering her salvo.

“SHOTGUN!” Simon thundered across the room.

“Shut up!” Mia hollered in her little voice.

“Make me!” Simon dared her.

“Wait a minute, Mia,” I interrupted, attempting to diffuse the situation. “What is it with the shotgun, anyway. Why do the zombies hate that word so much?”

“Are you serious? You totes don’t know?”

“I totes don’t,” I said, noting that her easy distractibility may have saved Simon from being massacred by zombies.

Mia whispered to the zombies, “Plug your ears, I’m going to talk about that word,” then after they had, she said to the rest of us, “the shotgun is the ultimate international weapon of choice for zombie killing. It is their Achilles heel.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because they are already dead. Undead. Not living anymore. But kind of living. The only thing that can make them totally dead is a shotgun. They do not want to be dead. They just want to eat cupcakes and color. And be left in Peace. Is that asking so much?”

After having dealt with the Zombie King, I could totes relate to the zombies’ desire for peace. “No, that’s not too much to ask at all,” I said. “In fact I could really use some of that myself.”

From his chair I heard Bill snort, “That’s what she said.”

*************

Whew! If you made it this far, thanks for reading the whole thing!

The Marbury Lens - Review

2011-02-15T22:35:00.000-06:00

I recently finished reading The Marbury Lens by Andrew Smith, and I loved it.

I'm not going to deal with plot details here...go read the book for that. Trust me, you won't be sorry.

First of all, I don't write YA literature (usually), but since I have three teenagers, I do read my share of it. I like to read what my kids read, and we like to talk about what we read. It's kind of like having a built-in reading group.

The Marbury Lens is twisted, and compelling, and heart-breaking, but most of all it made me think. Despite Jack's straightforward matter-of-fact voice, the story isn't laid out in black and white. It's not wrapped up in a neat package, all the plots and sub-plots resolved. No happy ending here. In fact, there's not much of an ending at all, but that didn't bother me because it works with this story. In short: the book is not easy.

The story follows Jack on his complicated journey through psychological trauma and his vulnerable, tender, desperate attempts to make sense of the dissociative worlds he finds himself in. I won't even pretend that I understood it all, and I suspect that it'll mean something different to each person who reads it, which is actually pretty high praise for Smith. What author doesn't want readers to take their work personally, for it to get under their skin?

I know I'll have to read this book again, and then maybe again, and even then I may not "get it," but that's the beauty of it. I didn't care that it was difficult or complicated, because Smith makes readers work, makes them become invested in the story and provide their own answers to all the open-ended questions. Because in the end, there are no easy answers in life, especially for teenagers, (or anybody, for that matter). We all struggle with our demons, trying to figure out how to tame them and fit them into our lives.

Now the big question, would I let my kids read it? The book contains some uncomfortable graphic situations, and some grim post-apocalyptic visions, not to mention the complex PTSD issues. Nevertheless, I would definitely recommend it to my 18-year-old son. Because the story isn't typical of what my 13-year-old daughter would read anyway, I doubt she'd even be interested in it, even if I did recommend it to her. But, in the end, I probably wouldn't. Knowing her as I do, I don't think she'd be able to process it. And I wouldn't let my 12-year-old read it because, again, knowing him, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't understand it well enough to even know what questions to ask, and I just don't think he's ready to deal with some of the imagery. It's one thing to warn your children against the Freddie Horvaths of the world, it's another for them to read the gruesome details about what can happen at the hands of people like Freddie.

I do, however, wholeheartedly recommend the book to anyone over, say, 15 or 16 years old, and especially adults. It's a remarkably well told tale, and certainly worth reading.

Now I look forward to Smith's next novel, Stick.

Just Kiss Already Blogfest

2011-02-13T18:21:00.002-06:00

Yes, it's another blogfest! This time it's the Just Kiss Already Blogfest, hosted by the lovely Stina and Christina.

The idea is to post a scene in 250 words or less that involves actual kissing. It is Valentine's Day, after all!

So my post is an excerpt from my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate. It's not a Valentine's Day romantic kiss, but it's still a kiss!

***************

A fiery redhead with steely blue eyes, Ash’s body art was a wildly abstract storm of color. The art merged with the pattern of his wings, as if his wings weren’t trophy enough, he’d had his body tattooed in the same pattern in order to emphasize their glory

“Where’ve you been?” Dusty asked, slapping Ash on the shoulder.

“Far and wide, man. You know me, I’ve got to see it all,” at this point he noticed Holly and gave her an appreciative once over. “And try it all,” he said. “What have we here?” he asked, sidling up to her and breathing her in, a lascivious grin on his face. “You dipping into another well, Dusty?”

“Okay, Ash, keep it in your pants, buddy,” Shadow said as he and Willow caught up with them. He wrapped a possessive arm around Holly’s waist, his hand coming to rest on her hip. Against her will she melted into him. “This well’s already spoken for.”

“Seriously? Damn. I’m always like a day too late," Ash said. "Don’t get me wrong, congratulations are definitely in order, and wow, she’s a hot one.” He leaned in and kissed Holly on the mouth, the tip of his tongue just barely caressing her lips before he pulled away.

Surprised, Holly jerked away, taken aback by his boldness, but sensing his amusement at her reaction.

“Just a taste of what you’re missing, if you ever decide Shadow’s not man enough for you,” he said, and winked at her.

******************

I like Ash, he's a fun character. I think I'm going to have to bring him back in another novel. Maybe give him a love of his own.

Now go check out the rest of the kisses in the fest!

Dark and Stormy Blogfest Contest

2011-02-07T10:06:00.001-06:00

Because I'm a hopeless sucker for blogfests, here's another one! I just now learned about this one and I'm so happy I did because not only is it a fun idea, but it's got killer prizes to go with it, so how could I resist?!

So the blogfest is the, "Dark and Stormy Blogfest Contest," hosted by the ever lovely Brenda Drake.

The idea of the blogfest is that writers are tasked with posting the first line of their current completed WIP. It must be a completed manuscript. Lucky for me, I just happen to have one of those.

This is the first line from my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate:

"Holly Reed slept curled in a tiny bundle reminiscent of the fetus she'd been only a week ago, unaware of the two women who stood over her, watching."

So what do you think? Compelling? Stinky? Needs work? Would you keep reading?

Top Ten Horror/Science Fiction Movie Quotes Blogfest

2011-02-06T10:19:00.002-06:00

Thanks to iZombie and Ellie Garratt for hosting the Top Ten Horror/Science Fiction Movie Quotes Blogfest!

The idea is to count down your top ten favorite quotes from horror or science fiction flicks. Mine are pretty short and sweet, and it was nearly impossible to keep it down to 10 because I could easily get 10 faves from just one movie, so spreading it out was a bit of a challenge (I adore Galaxy Quest - it's like a quote-a-palooza). These are in random order.

******************

10. “There’s that word again, heavy. Why are things so heavy in the future? Is there a problem with the Earth’s gravitational pull?” (Doc Brown, Back to the Future)

9. “These are not the droids you’re looking for.” (Obiwan, Star Wars: A New Hope)

8. “That’s no moon. That’s a space station.” (Obiwan, Star Wars: A New Hope)

7. “I have been, and ever shall be, your friend. Live long and prosper.” (Spock, Star Trek II)

6. “Did you guys ever WATCH the show?” (Guy Fleegman, Galaxy Quest).

5. “I see you’ve managed to get your shirt off.” (Alexander Dane, Galaxy Quest).

4. “Whoever wrote this episode should die.” (Gwen DeMarco, Galaxy Quest).

3. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?” (Russell Casse, Independence Day)

2. “Never give up, never surrender. (Jason Nesmith, Galaxy Quest)

1. “The First Rule of Zombieland: Cardio. When the zombie outbreak first hit, the first to go, for obvious reasons, were the fatties.” (Columbus, Zombieland)

(bonus: "Hasta la vista, baby!" (Terminator2))
************

There you go. Nothing intellectual, nothing long-winded, just some good fun. Now go check out the rest!

Anybody Wanna Be a Beta?

2011-01-31T08:32:00.000-06:00

The time is nearly here...I'm *this close* to being done with the rewrite of my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate, and I'm in need of competent beta readers.

What I need from a beta reader:

1. Someone who reads paranormal romance and/or writes romance in general, and has a firm understanding of the romance market.

2. You must be willing to read and comment on the entire manuscript. I don't expect line edits - one would hope I had accomplished all of those by the time I send it to beta readers - but I would appreciate answers to a few questions I'll send along with the manuscript.

3. Time is of the essence - I don't want this to drag out too long so you need to be able to read it and comment within a couple of weeks.

4. If you need a beta reader, I'll be happy to return the favor!

If you're interested and qualified, please let me know (either comment or e-mail at maranash66 (at) gmail (dot) com).

No Fear Blogfest

2011-01-29T10:30:00.002-06:00

As promised, albeit later than promised, here is my entry in Dominic's No Fear Blogfest.

It's another episode in the Happy Acres saga, a continuation from the Next Line Blogfest, wherein the main character (whose name is Mindy, btw), shows her own brand of bravery as she's forced to face the Zombie King.

************

With my hand in hers, I followed Tonja, a reluctant participant in this adventure. The empty cavernous halls of Happy Acres were lit at night by dimmed florescence, casting a ghastly glow.

I swallowed hard, “What does this Zombie King guy want, anyway? Why is he here?”

“He’s hungry.”

“Then give him some cupcakes,” I said, turning and heading for my room. “See? That was easy. Now let’s go back to bed.”

With a harsh jerk she pulled my arm, resuming our forward motion.

“He doesn’t eat cupcakes, he eats souls. He found Mia in the common room one night, sleeping on the couch, and he tried her soul first, but her zombies defended her, so the Zombie King made a deal with them. He wouldn’t take Mia’s soul, if they’d help him take everyone else’s.”

My stomach rolled over in protest, “So Mia’s zombies are the one’s who’ve been hurting me?”

Tonja nodded. “I’ve been defending you, but they’re determined to protect her, and I can’t hold them off forever. So you have to face the Zombie King or they’re going to start taking everyone else’s souls.”

I considered - only briefly - whether that was a bad thing, then decided that yes, it was. My Happy Acres family was the only family I had, and even though they’re a bunch of crazy nut jobs, I still love them. I just didn’t want to face the Zombie King.

“How do I defeat him?” I asked.

“You have to find his biggest weakness.”

We reached the common room where moonlight streamed through the windows, draping itself over the furniture as if it were white satin sheets.

It might have been poetic except for the Zombie King. He looked like a god, which is to say he was hot and built. This freaked me out more than if he’d been a stinky half-corpse.

I stayed in the hall, just outside the room, unwilling to commit. “You’re not what I expected at all,” I said.

“That’s what you said last night,” he replied, taking a step in my direction.

“You must be mistaken, this is the first time we’ve met,” I said. For a Zombie God King he wasn’t very bright.

“You say that every night, too,” he took another step closer.

“Where are Mia’s zombies?” I asked.

“Hunting,” he said, stepping closer still. “Because you clearly have defensive mechanisms, I’ll find someone who doesn’t.” He glared at Tonja and she shot him a smug smile in return.

“Leave my friends alone,” I said. It came out with a lot more bravado than I felt and when he smiled and took another step closer I wondered if I’d made a big mistake.

“Are you willing to sacrifice yourself in their place?” he asked, now close enough to reach out and touch me.

“No, because you’re just going to leave,” I said. “You’re not welcome here.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Well,” he said, raising one tanned, perfectly manicured hand and placing it on my shoulder, “I guess you told me, didn’t you.”

I pulled back into the hall, his hand still on my shoulder, “Just go away! I banish you! Begone! You shall not pass!”

When the fluorescent light hit his fingertips, little tendrils of smoke erupted and his skin began to sizzle. He jerked his hand back quickly, blowing on it to cool the burn.

Who would have thought? I took a bold step into the common room, taking his unburned hand in mine, and wrapping my other arm around him, as if we were best buds. “Dude!” I said. “I have a great idea. There are some super tasty souls here. You don’t want mine! Blech! I probably taste like brussels sprouts or some other yucky thing. And Mia? Way too sweet. You’d be on a sugar high for days.”

The look on his face was priceless. I’d totally taken him by surprise, so much so that he didn’t notice that as I babbled about soul-flavor, I inched him toward his doom.

“So, you know, you’d be much better off with a tasty Scottish haggis, right?”

He turned out of my grip, his back now to the hallway, and planted his fists on his hips. “What on Earth are you yammering about?”

“Byeeee!” I said, then with all the force I could muster, I did my best football block, ramming my shoulder into his gut and shoving him backwards into the fatal fluorescence. He fell to the floor, writhing and screaming as his skin smoked and burned and melted away until he was nothing but a pile of zombie ash.

“See?” Tonja said as if I’d just squished a spider, “I knew you could face your fears.”

“Can I go back to bed now?”

*************

So, what do you think? And don't forget to check out the other entries in the fest!

The 99th Page Blogfest

2011-01-28T10:03:00.003-06:00

I really should be working, but crawling the blogosphere is so much more fun. Now, don't worry, I'm still going to participate in the No Fear Blogfest, but I just now ran across another blogfest for today called The 99th Page Blogfest hosted by Erinn, Holly, Pam and Quita, um, and Alicia. I've seen all of them attributed on several sites. Anyway, for this blogfest participants are to post page 99 of your WIP.

Pretty simple, huh? And since I already have page 99 written, it's as easy as copy, paste, post!

When reading this page, and all the others, you should focus on and answer the following 3 questions:

1. Would you turn to page 100?
2. Why or why not?
3. Based on what you read, how likely would you be to buy the book?

My submission to this blogfest is page 99 of my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate, which is currently in the revision/polishing stage before I start requerying (the short version of the story is that I queried once, realized the story needed rewriting, I've done the rewrite, now I'm preparing to requery).

Here it is:
**************
“So you’re empathic to me just like I’m empathic to you?”

He nodded as he sliced a loaf of bread and placed a plate of it on the table in front of her. This close the details of his tattoos were more evident. Organic in design, the vines wrapped his arms and twisted across his chest, winding a pattern around symbols she didn’t recognize, but reminding her of graffiti. As if it had a life of its own her hand reached out to trace them. His skin was warm under her fingers, but pebbled with gooseflesh at her touch, followed by a much more obvious reaction further down.

“For instance,” he said, his voice husky, “I can sense how much you want to touch me.”

Her brows shot up and she felt a blush bloom on her cheeks as she pulled her hand back. “Your tattoos are beautiful,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to deny what he could clearly sense. She cleared her throat. “Don’t we have a lot to do today?”

“We’ve got plenty of time. Council doesn’t meet for several more hours,” he said, tracing her ear with his finger, sending shivers over her skin.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Shadow,” she said, opening her eyes to meet his. “There’s an obvious attraction between us. I know that. I can barely stop from throwing myself in your arms right now, but I’m not ready to make the kind of commitment that being soul mates implies, and I’m afraid that if we sleep together you’ll assume I’ve made that commitment.”

“Fate chose us for each other, Holly. The commitment’s already made whether you accept it or not.”

“What if I don’t believe in Fate?”

“Just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it isn’t so.”

“Well, I prefer to believe I have the free will to choose the person I’ll spend my life with.”

“And what if I’m that person?”

****************
So, there you have it, page 99 of Faerie Fate. What do you think?

*p.s. - I'll be back later this afternoon for the No Fear Blogfest. I promise!

No Fear Blogfest

2011-01-28T07:43:00.000-06:00

I will be posting for the No Fear Blogfest, just so ya know, but I'm running behind today so the posting will be up a little later. Be sure to come back and read it! It'll be another installment of Happy Acres.

You may recall I left the MC at the end of the Write the Next Line blogfest having been told that she must defeat the Zombie King. Think she'll experience any fear over that?

Come back later to find out how she faces it!

OMG, Awards!

2011-01-26T17:03:00.006-06:00

I love getting awards! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like somebody really cares. *happy sigh*

So I have two new awards as follows:

The lovely Jodi Henry gave me the L'Aussie's Fair Dinkum Award which made me think, "awww, so sweet!" In Aussie-speak fair dinkum apparently means real or genuine. Thanks Jodi! I'm supposed to pass it on to 6 other bloggers.

The second award is the Stylish Blogger Award, given to me by Sarah at Glissades and Gabbles. Wow, nobody has ever called me stylish before. *blush*

I'm supposed to thank the person who gave it to me, (Thanks Sarah!) and tell you 7 things about myself, then pass it on to bloggers I think are great!)

Because I'm a rebel and a cheater-pants of the highest order, I will tell you 7 things about myself, but I will combine the pass-it-on lists for both awards into one list. Hey, in my book, rules are made to be broken!

Seven Things about Mara:

1. Donuts and pancakes are my favorite foods. Oh, and homemade bread. There is no better scent on the planet than fresh-from-the-oven homemade bread. But since I'm trying to follow a low carb diet, I don't get to eat those things as much as I wish I could. *sniff*

2. If I could choose several historical people to hang with for a day, I might choose (but then again, I might choose other people):
         a. King Arthur
         b. Queen Elizabeth I
         e. Da Vinci
         f. Ben Franklin
         g. Hatshepsut

3. My biggest phobias are balloons and spiders.

4. My biggest vice is that I like to drive fast.

5. My favorite color combinations include greens, blacks, browns, and shades of purple.

6. I like winter better than summer, and consequently prefer mountains and prairies to beaches.

7. My favorite styles of art are: Art Nouveau and Impressionism.

My Pass-it-On list includes a total of 7.

For the L'Aussie Fair Dinkum award:

Cheryl de los Reyes Cruz
Bill "The Edge" Friskey
Falen at Falen Formulates Fiction
The Alliterative Allomorph

For the Stylish Blogger Award:

Tessa at Tessa's Blurb
Mia at My Literary Jam and Toast
February Grace

Thanks again, ladies, for the awards. They really made my day!

Pair O'Blogfests: Next Line and Top 10 Music

2011-01-24T09:51:00.001-06:00

Today is the Write the Next Line Blogfest, hosted by Christine at Christine's Journey, and Alex J. Cavanaugh's Top 10 Music Countdown.

I made an attempt to combine them, but only managed to squeeze in about six songs. I'm not much of a music person anyway, only using it as a background while I write or work out. I don't think I actually have 10 favorite songs.

So this is another installment of the Happy Acres saga. I have the sense that this may become an ongoing serial, as I'm totally in love with the characters and concept. This episode is a lot darker, but there's a reason for that.

For Christine's blogfest, she gave us a prompt and we were supposed to write from that. Well, the prompt was kind of dark, so I went with it. And remember, Happy Acres is a mental institution, so that left me lots of room to play. I did tinker with the prompt itself, but not too much. It's still recognizable.

*****************
3:00 am. The numbers glowed green, staring at me, reminding me that I wasn't sleeping. How could I? Every night a dream consumes me, and often when I wake, my body is decorated with a new cut, bruise, burn, bite mark.

I stared at the ceiling. The fan squeaked and wobbled, trying to move the air, but failing miserably. I turned over, hugging my pillow. For the hundredth time I thought, maybe I should tell someone. But who? Nurse Cratchit? No way. A doctor? Nuh uh. Here at Happy Acres that kind of story meant a padded room, or worse.

So needless to say, I haven’t shared my little problem in group.

A branch scratched the window. I turned over again. 5:00 am. Spikes of adrenalin gushed through my heart, and I bolted upright in bed. Where did the last two hours go? My damp T-shirt clung to my back. I patted myself, and squinted in the dark at exposed skin, searching for new injuries.

Bang. Bang. Bang. I jumped. Who could be knocking on my door at this time of morning? For that matter, who ever knocked here? Happy Acres had an open door policy, nobody ever knocked.

The door squeaked on its hinges as it swung open a few inches and I saw the pale roundness of a face peeking in. This far away and in the dark, I didn’t recognize whose it was.

“You okay?” I heard the face whisper.

“I think so,” I said. “Who’s there?”

The door opened a bit more and a whole body appeared, moving into the room like an apparition, and I wondered if this specter had been responsible for hurting me. I swallowed hard, pushing my pounding heart back down where it belonged. But the closer the form got, the more it came into focus until, to my relief, I realized it was just Tonja.

But when I heard the plaintive strains of “Hotel California” drifting down the hall from the common room, I knew I was still dreaming. My dreams have distinctive soundtracks, you see. Sometimes it’s the Black Eyed Peas jamming, “Pump It,” and other times it’s Selena crooning, “Naturally,” but almost every dream has a Nickelback song playing somewhere or another.

“Your birthday’s coming up,” Tonja said.

“I know,” I answered. “Have you been hurting me while I sleep?” I blurted.

“I’d never hurt you,” she said, offended. “You’re my friend. We’re so much alike we could be two parts of a whole.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked. “I know this is a dream.”

“I’m here to protect you,” she said.

“From what?”

“Mia’s zombies.”

“But Mia’s zombies are harmless. She said so. They eat hotdogs and draw with crayons and love cupcakes. They’re gentle zombies. They wouldn’t hurt me,” I babbled.

“They don’t want to be bad, but they can’t help it. Someone’s forcing them.”

“Mia?!” I squealed. “But she’s the sweetest of them all!”

“Not Mia, silly. There’s a new zombie on the block. The Zombie King. He’s invisible even to Mia. And very, very dangerous.”

The music changed and the eerie Eagles tune was replaced by Linkin Park’s “Bleed It Out,” and suddenly Mia’s zombies didn’t seem so friendly after all.

I pulled knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, tight, rocking back and forth. “What do I do?” I asked.

“You must defeat the Zombie King,” Tonja said, “before he takes over Happy Acres.”

I gnawed my bottom lip, considering my options. The notes of, “White and Nerdy,” now drifted from the common room, making me wish I could beat down my distracting soundtrack. It only made it more difficult to concentrate.

“But how?” I asked.

Tonja held out her hand, “Come with me,” she said.

It was up to me to save myself and my friends, and free Mia’s zombies from the Zombie King’s evil clutches.

When “Man of Constant Sorrow,” began to play, I knew I was in for trouble as, clinging tight to her hand, I followed Tonja into the dark side of Happy Acres.

**************
So, there you go. Hope you liked it. And yes, I did leave it totally open-ended, but that's only so I can write another episode!

Birthday Bash Blogfest

2011-01-21T09:06:00.011-06:00

So here we are at Tessa's Birthday Bash Blogfest! The idea is to write a scene that mentions any aspect of birthdays. I decided to write a scene that's another installment in the Happy Acres saga I started over on my other blog (where I blog under my real name and which I have badly neglected for months now) back in August for the Invasion of the Bloggy Snatchers blogfest.

Hope you enjoy!

****************

“Tessa!” I said, throwing sparkly confetti as I entered the Happy Acres common room early on the morning of January 21. The sun had yet to peek over the horizon and the glow of the moon between the bars on the window made a striped pattern on the brown linoleum floor. It never mattered how early I got up, though, Tessa was always up before me. Her clock was hours ahead of mine.

Throwing my arms around her, I hugged her as hard as I could, “Happy Birthday!”

“Uh huh,” she said, barely acknowledging my assault.

She sat at a table in the corner with a spiral notebook and a pack of colored sharpie markers, her work illuminated only by a tiny book light. Uh oh. She had another Idea, on her birthday of all days. My big party plans could be in danger.

Mia wandered into the room, stretching and yawning, wearing her favorite Hello Kitty jammies. “Why did you wake me up so early? You know this means the zombies will be cranky.”

I hurried over to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, “Shhh, she has a New Idea.”

Mia groaned. “But the zombies are looking forward to the party,” she paused, then waggled a finger at me. “Just not this early.” Then a thought occurred to her and she pinned me with a suspicious glare. “There will still be cupcakes, won’t there?”

“Yes, yes,” I said, distracted. “But first we have to get her away from the Idea.”

A snort and grumble from the other side of the room startled us, and we both shot a look in that direction.

“What’s that?” I said.

“It is most likely only Simon,” Mia said, dismissing him. “He was up all night fighting with Mercedes.”

“The new girl,” I said, nodding. “She’s sharp, all right. Keeps him on his toes.”

Mia rolled her eyes, “I am just glad he gave up that stupid letter-writing campaign. The zombies do not like writing letters. It gives them cramps. He is a bad influence, you know.”

I nodded knowingly. “But didn’t you hear?” I asked. “Scotland finally acknowledged him as king.”

“Hmph. I think someone just got tired of his stupid letters,” she said.

Really they just bribed him with a case of vodka.

“Oh look! The zombies are here,” Mia said and went to greet her invisible zombie friends, one of which turned out to be Bill. He’s not a morning person.

He glanced in Tessa’s direction, hesitating, but I got to him before he made a move. “She has a New Idea,” I said. “Better to leave her alone for now.”

“Birthdays are edgy,” he said, then lumbered over to Tessa, patted her on the shoulder and said, “So, yeah,” then settled into a deep, cushy armchair, leaving me to figure out how to deal with Tessa’s New Idea.

I’d put lots of effort into planning the perfect Happy Acres birthday for her, so I wasn’t about to let something like a New Idea get in the way. I marched over to the table, pulled up a chair close enough so she couldn’t ignore me, and flopped myself into it.

“Tessa,” I said. “Today’s your birthday. You should party til you’re purple. The New Idea can wait a day.”

She shook her head. “It’s time sensitive.”

I rolled my eyes. All her ideas were time sensitive. “What is it?” I asked, trying a different tack.

“I want to put on a birthday blogfest in honor of my birthday. You see, the Idea is that other bloggers will post birthday-related stories on their blogs on my birthday. It’ll be like a giant round-the-world birthday party, just for me!”

I had to admit, this Idea had merit. Because, who wouldn’t want a worldwide birthday party?

I sighed, “okay, what can I do to help?”

“Do what you do best. Distract Nurse Cratchit so I can sneak into her office and use her computer to post my blogfest.”

“Okay, will do,” I said, accepting my birthday blogfest mission. “Oh, and Tessa? Happy Birthday, Sweetie.”

Bookmark or Dog Ear?

2011-01-15T12:28:00.000-06:00

I'm in the midst of preparing lesson plans for next week for my freshman composition class. Okay, actually I'm writing this instead of preparing lesson plans because I'm procrastinating, which is something I do well.

It's the beginning of the semester and I want to start them thinking about thinking, and thinking about seeing, and thinking about what things mean. And I don't know why, but my mind started wandering and I wondered what it says about a person if, when reading a book, they use a book mark versus dog earring the page to mark their place, and although it may sound kind of silly on the surface, I think it gets at a deeper philosophical question about how people view and value books.

Do book-markers have a deeper reverence or respect for books, or even property in general? Or are they just neatniks? Are they organized and uptight about having things just so? Are they squeamish about marring the perfection of art? Do they want to preserve the book in its like-new condition for as long as possible so they'll be able to enjoy it that much longer? Do book-markers also leave the dust jacket on the book as they read it and then organize their books in alphabetical order on perfectly dusted shelves? Are book-markers more considerate? Are they honoring and valuing books more by using book marks?

Are dog-earrers rebels who couldn't care less about the value of the book itself and so have no problem with vandalizing its pages? By folding the corners are they torturing the pages of books the way Sid tortures toys? Do they toss dust jackets carelessly aside and then shelve their books willy-nilly in no reasonable order? Maybe even leaving them in piles or boxes? (gasp!) Or by dog-earring are they getting down and dirty and showing their love for reading. Are books meant to be used and loved or revered and put on a pedestal?

I'll confess, I'm a dog-earrer. I do try not to dog-ear library books because they don't belong to me, and I do that not out of respect for the book itself but out of respect for the fact that I don't own it. My own books, though, I dog-ear like there's no tomorrow. Why? Because bookmarks fall out. And because a dog-ear is a built-in bookmark. And because it's no big deal. I think, like a cozy blanket or your favorite jammies, books are meant to be loved and used and appreciated. Just like stuffed animals are meant to be snuggled and squeezed and loved, not collected on a shelf. To me, a book with lots of dog-ears and a ratty binding, and maybe fingerprints inside shows that it's adored, well-read, and loved. I write in my books, make notes, highlight my favorite stuff. I read them over and over. I don't shelve alphabetically, I toss aside dust covers, and I have piles of books everywhere. In my house, books are part of the family, not a collection that shouldn't be touched.

So I'm taking a poll. Where do you stand on the book mark vs dog-ear issue? You see over there on the right? There's a little poll. Click your preference. And maybe leave me a comment...

Conference Shout-Out

2011-01-11T18:20:00.000-06:00

This is a shout out to all you writers out there: I'm looking for a good writing conference to attend this year before May!

Does anyone have any suggestions?

I've been thinking about:

The AWP Conference
Book Expo (can anyone who's been to this tell me more about it?)
Las Vegas Writer's Conference
Northern Colorado Writer's Conference

These all fall into my time frame and (sort of) budget, but I want to be sure I don't miss any good options and who better to ask than other writing people?!

So please, don't be shy, let me know what you know. Where are the best conferences between now and May?!

Drafting and Revision Style

2011-01-10T10:52:00.000-06:00

I'm deep into revisions (okay, partial rewrite/partial revision) of my paranormal romance so that I can resubmit it on query. I basically hacked off the first nine chapters and wrote new ones, and now I'm integrating the back half of the novel so that it coincides with the new stuff I wrote. The story is much better now, which is awesome, and I have a lot more confidence in it as a whole.

But that's neither here nor there.

What I was thinking about this morning (as I wasted time dilly-dallying instead of doing my day job) was how writers write. Lots of writers write fat in their first draft and then pare out the stuff they don't need when they revise and edit. I tend to do the opposite. I write lean in the first draft, just to get the bones of the story on the page, then in revision I go in and fatten up the line count, adding in more character development, description of setting, etc. I can't spend forever in the first draft trapped in each scene spewing loads of detail. I need to get in and get out and move on before I lose the urgency of the story.

There's not a lot of foreplay in my first drafts, they're kind of wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am.

So it interests me to know how other writers approach their drafts, since no two writers are the same, and there's no "right way" to write. Some people write it out longhand, which I can't even begin to fathom not only because I have wicked tendinitis, but it would take ages to get the words on the page and before I got to the end of the scene I'd forget what the hell I wanted to say in the first place. So I don't understand the appeal of actual pen on paper.

And lots of people are plotters, a subject I think I've discussed before. For me, whether or not to plot depends on the story. Most of the time I just wing it, although I actually plotted this paranormal romance and now I'm throwing out half of what I plotted and starting over, so clearly that plotting effort was worthless. But for a lot of writers it works. And I can see how for some of the projects on my "to write" list plotting is going to be necessary.

I often wonder how many rounds of revision most writers go through, too. I mean, this paranormal romance has gone through way too many, but it's my first novel, so I think that's to be expected as I find my writing way. I would assume that the more practice a writer has at writing, the easier it is to see the finish line and streamline the process so that it takes fewer rounds of editing. Of course, I could be totally wrong about that, but I can easily see how I could have cut several of my read-throughs and, in fact, as I've been writing the first draft of my second novel I'm consciously avoiding lots of the same kinds of errors I fixed in preliminary editing rounds of novel one, saving myself precious time.

As I head into the home stretch of this rewrite/revision, and as I try to find ways to avoid doing my day job (like blogging), writing is always in the back of my mind, lurking there, because it's what I'd rather be doing. And I wonder about other writers' processes.

What kind of drafter are you? Fat or lean? Do you go through excessive rounds of edits or have you written enough that you're able to limit the edits? I won't even ask the plotter vs pantser question because it's overasked.

Okay. I've wasted enough time. I need to go back to my day job, as unhappy as that makes me. Here's to the day (in the hopefully not too distant future) when my day job is writing....

New Creations Blogfest

2011-01-05T09:33:00.000-06:00

Summer over at My Inner Fairy is hosting the New Creations Blogfest today in celebration of her birthday.

Happy Birthday, Summer! *waves*

I wasn't initially planning on participating in this blogfest, but then I thought, what the heck, why not?

Here are the rules: Post your favorite last line from something you wrote last year, then post a brand new first sentence for something new you're working on. Easy peasy, right?

So here are mine:

1) The last sentence of my flash fiction piece, "Artist Statement."

Here on the canvas she’s immortal, her heartbeat captured forever in art, and I use the same blade that freed her, still warmed by her blood, to etch the truth of it in the now congealing medium: “art is life and life is art.”

2) The first sentence of the rewrite I'm working on for my paranormal romance novel, Faerie Fate:

Holly Reed slept curled in a tiny bundle, reminiscent of the fetus she'd been only a week before, unaware of the two women who stood over her, watching.

And there you have it! Hope you have a great birthday, Summer. And everyone else, go read the rest of the entries in the blogfest. You'll be sorry if you don't!

Show Me Yours Blogfest

2011-01-03T07:47:00.000-06:00

So today is part three of the blogfest-a-palooza that started with the Eye Candy Blogfest on the 1st, continued with the No-Kiss Blogfest on the 2nd, and ends today with the Show Me Yours Blogfest.

This blogfest is hosted by the ever lovely Hannah Kincade at Musings of a Palindrome. The idea of the blogfest is to share a scene from what you wrote during NaNoWriMo. Although I didn't "win" NaNo this year, I came darn close, managing to write over 30,000 words, so there are plenty of scenes to choose from.

This scene is from the sci-fi novel I'm working on. As a matter of fact, it's a couple of chapters after yesterday's no kiss scene. To set it up: Red (Amie) and Jaska have stolen a map that a lot of other people are after, and are searching for the treasure that the map leads to, which just happens to be on Earth. They are deep in ancient tunnels under the Sahara. The scene is from Jaska's POV.

**************

“Jaska,” Red says, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I say.

“I know you’re in a tight position with that thing in your neck,” it’s like she can read my mind and my skin pebbles at the coincidence that we’d be thinking the same things. “So I really appreciate what you’re doing.”

“How do you know what I’m doing?” I ask.

I hear her footsteps stop behind me and I turn, illuminating her face with my light. She clearly isn’t happy with what I said.

“So what are you doing?” she asks. I can’t tell if she’s going to cry or if she wants to hit me.

“Look, Red. Let’s not do this here. We’ve got a lot to get done and we don’t have time for a chat now.”

I turn to go but I don’t hear footsteps behind me, so again I turn and she hasn’t moved, other than to cross her arms in front of her.

“We’re going to have this conversation now because I’m not going one step further until I know exactly what you’re planning,” she says.

Great, just what I need right now. “Fine, stay here then. I’m going to keep going and find out what the hell this treasure is so we have some kind of bargaining chip,” I turn yet again and continue down the tunnel, grumbling at Red as I walk. “I’m not willing to give up my life over it. And maybe we can work some kind of deal with Gil or Magda or Hawk or whoever the hell else is after it. But we can’t make any deals of any kind if we don’t know what it is. And I have no chance of surviving this little adventure if I don’t keep going forward. So forgive me if I have more on my mind than saving your precious planet from discovery. Believe me, it’ll be discovered eventually one way or another anyway. So it’s no big deal to me if it’s discovered now.”

I’m satisfied to hear her footsteps behind me again, but after several minutes of walking in quiet again I feel her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jaska,” she says and I meet her eyes. “We’ll figure a way out of this for you and for Earth.”

I cock a brow at her. “Let’s hope so,” I say. “But if it comes down to a choice between my head and your planet, I’m choosing my head. We can always come back and do something to help here, but I only have one chance.”

“I just don’t want to be responsible for leading the forces of destruction to Earth.”

I pat her hand, still on my shoulder, then restart the trek down the tunnel. “Sometimes change is good, Red.”

******************

Hope you like it! Now go read the rest of the scenes from the Show Me Yours Blogfest!

No Kiss Blogfest

2011-01-01T22:49:00.000-06:00

It's a blogfest-a-palooza! Yesterday was the Eye Candy Blogfest, today is the No Kiss Blogfest, and tomorrow is the Show Me Yours Blogfest.

Today's blogfest, the Second Annual No Kiss Blogfest, is hosted by the lovely Frankie Diane. I'm impressed that it's the second annual and as I recall I participated in the first this time last year. But today I've got a new near kiss entry from the sci-fi novel I'm working on.

Here's the setup: Jaska is somewhat of a rogue. He's a convicted intergalactic thief on a mission to win his freedom. He has met - and crossed - Amie, who is a research consultant from Earth. They've stolen a map and are on the run, but have taken a side trip to a tropical planet where Jaska has just made a very sensual show of flirting with an old flame. (Amie is a redhead, that's why Jaska calls her Red).

So here's the near kiss:

**********
Red joins me on the porch. “Mmmmm,” she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath of the breeze. “This place is gorgeous. The air smells like ripe fruit! The ocean and the beaches and these cabins, it reminds me of Fiji on Earth.”

“I assume that’s a tropical paradise?”

She nods, then turns and focuses on me. “So, what’s with your friend?”

I smile to myself. She can’t help but ask. “Why? Jealous?” I ask.

She scoffs at me, “Are you kidding me? I still haven’t ruled out strangling you in your sleep. I’m just wondering if one of those is going to show up everywhere we go,” she says, playing at nonchalance.

This is too much fun. I take a step closer and notice she must have showered, too, because her hair's still damp in places. I breathe her in and she smells fresh like flowers.

“Smell something you like?” She asks, her head tipped up just a bit so she can see me, exposing a long expanse of tantalizing neck. I lean in to taste her skin, the heat of it warming my face as I get near, but the smirk on her lips stops me dead. I mean, she’s a beauty, that goes without saying, but she’s not like any woman I’ve met before. She’s not flirting back. And gods if she’s not the moodiest one I’ve ever met.

I pull back just a little and clear my throat. “What’s not to like?” I catch some of her hair between my fingers and take a whiff, casually. “You’re a woman, aren’t you?”

Anger darkens her gray eyes for just a moment, then they clear. “Is that all it takes? Just being female is enough to turn you on? Because for a moment there you looked pretty smitten.”

“Smitten? Pffft. I don’t think so, Red. I don’t get smitten. Don’t you think you’re giving yourself a bit too much credit?”

She grins and turns, “Methinks he doth protest too much...” she says over her shoulder as she heads back inside. What does that even mean? I have no idea how that conversation got away from me, but I follow her inside anyway. We need to focus. My time is running out quickly.

************

It's kind of on the non-traditional side, but still fun, no? Now go check out the rest of the near kisses at Frankie Writes!

Eye Candy Blogfest

2010-12-31T18:37:00.001-06:00

Happy New Year!

Okay, now on to the blogfest.

The Eye Candy Blogfest is hosted by Vicky Rocho over at Rambles and Randomness...Thanks Vicky!

The idea of the blogfest is, on New Year's Day (I know I'm a little early), to post a favorite picture. It can be anything from a beach at sunset to a hottie to your kids or pets...anything that makes you smile! And, um, keep it PG.

So, here's my favorite pic...because I adore donuts and this pic makes me want to roll around in the pile of them. It's just beautiful.

And because I couldn't pick just one, I had to add this castle ruins. I think it's pretty awesome.

I didn't take these pics myself. The donuts would never have lasted long enough to be photographed and although I wish I could have been at those castle ruins in person, I'll have to daydream a bit longer.

And for all of you ladies wishing for a hottie in your stocking, I kinda like this one:

Enjoy!

Happy Holidays Everyone!

2010-12-24T09:00:00.002-06:00

Happy Holidays to everyone. No matter which one you celebrate, make it good!

Living in a Christian culture, my family celebrates Christmas even though we don't specifically self-identify Christian. It seems like in America it's kind of the default religious affiliation....certainly the calendar, business, and government revolve around its holidays. But even if you don't buy into Christian theology, it can't hurt to enjoy a little mid-winter cheer (okay, strictly speaking it's not mid-winter since the solstice was only a few days ago, but around here we've had snow on the ground for a few months so it feels like mid-winter). Celebrate family and generosity and love of your fellow man. Make a go at seeing the glass as half full instead of half empty and maybe do something nice for a stranger just because you can.

We will be doing the traditional things we always do. Good food, gather around the Christmas tree and open stockings and gifts, sing carols, play games, and just relax together.

Then on the 27th I'll be heading out to attend the last residency of my low residency MFA program. Yep, I'm heading into my thesis semester...the home stretch. I can't believe I'm almost done! I guess that means I need to buckle down and get my thesis revised and polished and shiny-perfect!

This residency should be a good one, too. I've signed up for workshops on screenwriting, playwriting, sci-fi and fantasy fiction, and performing your work. Despite how happy I am to be almost finished with the degree, however, I'm sad that this may be the last time I see many of the people I've come to be friends with through the program. We all live scattered around the country and only actually see each other at residencies. We've formed a tight-knit bunch of writing friends and I'll miss seeing them at regular intervals, even though I'm sure we'll keep in touch (on facebook if nothing else).

So what are some of the ways you celebrate the holidays? Do you have quirky family traditions? Any favorite foods? Games? I love discovering the ways other people celebrate!

No matter what you do, I hope all of you have a joyous holiday!

Good News and Bad News

2010-12-16T08:24:00.000-06:00

A little over a month ago I sent out my first tentative queries to a handful of agents. I've received several rejections and one request for a partial. The good news is after requesting the partial the agent responded back to me yesterday. The bad news is that she didn't request a full. However, she did offer very useful and constructive comments about how to improve the story and characters...which I suppose is more good news. All the things she pointed out as problems were things I suspected anyway and I had already begun to outline necessary revisions.

So now it's back to the drawing board. I believe in this story and these characters and I'm determined to find the formula that works for this novel. I'll have to make some drastic changes, but I know it can be done and the story will be that much better because of it.

I first realized the story may need this kind of overhaul shortly after I'd sent out my queries and I was devastated, mostly because it felt like starting over, and the sheer scope of it was overwhelming. I refused to believe it at first, depressed by the thought of such major rewrites. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense, so I started trying to work out the changes that needed to be made.

My goal is to have these revisions done in a month so I can begin the query process again. I have no idea if that's a realistic timeline, but I know what I'm capable of and I know these characters and their story so I'm pretty sure a month is doable. It's still an overwhelming task to face, but now that I'm in a more positive state of mind I'm ready to face it and conquer it!

Have you ever faced this kind of overhaul of a novel? How did you handle it?

Query Letter Blogfest

2010-12-15T09:17:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Jodi Henry for hosting the Query Letter Blogfest!

The idea of this blogfest is to practice your query writing skills. As if writing the novel weren't hard enough, tackling a query letter (and synopsis) can be torture. I've posted my query below, but I've removed the portions discussing my background and memberships, leaving only the story-related information.

*****************

Dear Agent:

I am pleased to submit for your consideration, Faerie Fate, a paranormal romance set in contemporary Oregon and divided between both the human and faerie realms. It is complete at 86,000 words.

Holly Reed is a grad student who doesn’t have much family to speak of, and yearns to know why. But when she discovers she’s half faerie and the father she never knew is a renegade out to kill her before he starts a war with humankind, she’s plunged into a world she grew up believing only existed in faerie tales.

Shadow’s life has always been about duty – to his queen, to his job, to Gaea. He gave up on finding his soul mate long ago. But when Fate puts Holly in his path desire flares between them, and he’s forced to reevaluate his long-held enmity toward humans. Amidst growing unrest and with war on the horizon, Shadow claims her as his soul mate.

Despite her undeniable attraction to him, Holly is afraid of becoming nothing more than Shadow’s property and rebels against his claim on her. But with her father hunting her, she’s faced with an impossible decision: accept Shadow’s offer of protection and forfeit her humanity and everything she’s ever known, or have her memory wiped and go back to her human life giving up her magic, her new family, and the man she’s grown to love.

Thank you for considering my work. I look forward to hearing from you.

Best Wishes,

Margaret Bail

****************

So, what do you think? Does it work? What needs to be changed?

Now go check out the rest of the entries at Jodi's blog!

Welcome Back and Brainstorming Ideas

2010-12-03T22:03:00.000-06:00

Hi Everyone! Welcome back post-NaNoWriMo. I felt like I was underground there for a month, unplugged from social media.

I wish I could say that my NaNo experience this year was a blinding success, but it wasn't. I managed to write just shy of 40,000 words, which is short of the required 50,000 to win NaNo. But on the upside, that's 40,000 words closer to having a completed first draft, right?

There were two reasons why I missed the 50,000 mark.

1. Two of my children have birthdays at the end of November, plus there's Thanksgiving, plus the crush of both teaching and being a student. It was just too much and I cracked under the pressure.

2. I wrote myself into a dilemma. It wasn't a corner so much as an as-yet unsolved problem.

Here's what happened: I decided to pants this novel. No plotting at all. Because it's written in first person present tense and it's a headlong chase adventure kinda thing I figured my not knowing what happens before the characters do would add some freshness, if not to the story at least to the writing process. And for the most part it has. Unfortunately the downside of pantsing is that when you run up against a quandary you can't just look at your notes and say, "Ah! So that's what happens now!" and then go back to writing.

So I wrote as much as I could without solving this little problem and then I was stuck. Without giving too much away, I've got most of the cast of characters of this book looking for the same treasure, but I have no idea what the treasure actually is. And when the two main characters finally cracked the code that allowed them entry into the room where the treasure is hidden.....I had to stop writing because I was stumped.

Now, since there's only one week left of the semester and as a teacher I have to read and grade about 30 term papers, and as an MFA student I still need to write two papers, my main characters are frozen in time staring at a treasure that now only they can identify and I still can't. However, my goal is to complete the first draft of this manuscript by the end of December, before the next semester starts, so clearly I need to get to brainstorming.

Which brings me to the main point of this post: As writers, I know all of you have run into these kinds of problems, whether it's in the plotting process or when you're in the middle of pantsing it.

In my search for ways to discover this treasure, I've collected several different brainstorming techniques I want to share with you, just in case you ever find yourself backed into a corner:

1. Freewriting. Everyone's done this at one point or another. Put the pen to the paper and just write. It doesn't matter if it makes sense and don't worry about the quality. The point is to stomp out the internal critic and let the ideas flow.

2. Clustering. This is kind of like freewriting, but briefer. You write your main topic (in my case "treasure") in the center of the paper. Then you work out from that center word filling the space with any words you associate with the central topic. Write fast, don't stop to consider, just get words down. Then when you're done start circling terms that seem related and connecting them with lines. These sets of words can help trigger ideas.

3. Journalistic questions. Ask who, what, when, where, why, and how about your subject and see what you learn about it. Ask about its history, why it's important, who is it important to, where has it been...etc.

4. Think outside the box. For instance, if you're writing a romance, ask yourself, "if I were faced with this very same problem but in a steampunk novel, how might I see it or understand it differently?" So for my problem, since my novel is sci-fi, maybe I would ask myself, "if this were a western, what kind of treasure would my characters be looking for?" And maybe the same kind of treasure would be useful to my sci-fi characters.

5. Meditate. Plug into some music and do something completely unrelated to writing, but with the problem you need to solve lurking somewhere just out of your conscious thought. Open yourself to input from any source and maybe something unexpected will pop into your head while you're playing Halo or watching the Food Network.

So what's your favorite way of breaking the block? How do you brainstorm for ideas?

Stoppin' By To Say Hi!

2010-11-13T19:54:00.000-06:00

Oh, hello Blogosphere. Are you still here? I thought all of you were busy writing NaNoWriMo, so deep into your novel world that you forgot the real world existed. No? That's just me? Um. Okay then.

Well, I hate to chat and run but I just stopped by to say hi and that I know you're still here and I promise I'll come back but those characters, well, they really need me. Without me they're just stuck there without a clue what happens next. Since I left them there it's kind of my duty to help them out, to get them where they're going, to maybe even give them a happy ending. Although I still don't know how this story ends so for all I know it won't be happy at all. Which only means that I need to get back to them and find out!

If you're writing NaNoWriMo this month, good luck with your stories and I hope they're going well! If you're not writing NaNoWriMo this month, the Blogosphere is probably a lonely place. But don't despair! Come December 1st everyone will be back with all kinds of fun and interesting stories to tell about their journey through NaNoWriMoLand!

NaNoWriMo Update

2010-11-08T20:22:00.000-06:00

One week down and I'm still in line with the 1700-ish lines per day to make the 50,000 goal. Luckily I was able to write ahead almost every day last week because I crashed and burned on Sunday and didn't write at all.

My story is going swimmingly considering I'm still not plotting. And by swimmingly I mean it still actually makes sense and it's not just a bunch of unrelated crap on the page just so I can make word count. My goal is to have an honest to goodness usable first draft that doesn't need to be completely rewritten. So I'm trying to plot as I pants, if you know what I mean. Trying to keep my imagination one step ahead of what I'm writing. It's interesting having two main characters who are taking parallel journeys, weaving those stories together.

But....they're going to be crashing back together again soon, and boy will the sparks fly when that happens!

So, how're everybody else's NaNoWriMo projects going? Keeping up with word count? Like where the story's going? Running into any problems/issues/concerns?

If you're doing the NaNo and want more buddies, you can add me: mkdbail

Have fun!

I'm a Real Writer Now!

2010-11-02T17:44:00.000-05:00

A couple of things today:

1. I'm a real writer now because I've received 2 rejections this week! Way to go, me. *high fives self* Okay, now that I've experienced that feeling we can bring on the requests for partials and fulls. Right?

2. Day 2 of NaNo! Woohoo!!! I made my word count goal on day one. Only 29 days left...

3. I revised my logline based on all the wonderful, helpful, lovely comments people left after Steena Holmes' Logline blogfest. Here's the new and (hopefully) improved version:

"Holly Reed is a grad student who yearns to solve the mysteries of her absent family, but when she discovers she’s half faerie and the father she never knew is a renegade who sees her as a mistake he must dispose of before he starts a war with humankind, she’s plunged into a world where her ultimate choice is: forfeit her humanity in order to accept the protection of a faerie who claims he’s her soul mate, or have her memory wiped and go back to her human life, giving up her new magic, her new family, and the man she’s grown to love."

I know it's long, but is it better?

Good luck to all NaNo participants. And agents? Um, done with the rejections, bring on the requests. Okay. Thanks!

Logline Blogfest

2010-11-01T07:53:00.001-05:00

Welcome to Steena Holmes' Logline Blogfest! (and happy first day of Nano!!)

The blogfest is pretty straightforward - just post the logline for your novel or project. Steena was gracious enough to allow all participants two lines! However, I've got a one-liner already written, so I'm going to use that. This is the logline for my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate.

"When Holly Reed discovers her father’s a renegade faerie out to kill her before he starts a war with humankind, her only chance for survival may be to accept the protection of Shadow, the faerie who claims he’s her soul mate."

I also wrote a haiku logline just for fun:

Faeries are real. What?!
Rogue fae father wants her dead.
Can soul mate save her?

Now go check out all the other loglines. And if you're writing for NaNo this year - have fun and go write!

Outside Of My Box - Blogfest

2010-10-30T21:31:00.000-05:00

The always lovely (and sparkly) Tessa is hosting the Outside of My Box Blogfest in which participants are supposed to write something outside of the genre they usually write in. Outside of their comfort zone, if you will.

I have to say, I'm getting a little ho-hummy about all the YA and MG that's flooding the world. Not that I don't think young adults and mid-grade kiddos deserve really great stuff to read, because they do. And most of the stuff authors are writing in that genre is so good that even grown ups love it. In fact, there are a few authors I really adore in that genre myself. But there seems to be such a massive glut of it lately that I'm choking on it.

So of course for this blogfest I had to contribute to that genre. *grin* If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?

It's probably a serious stretch to say that YA is out of my comfort zone. It's not nearly as far out of my comfort zone as, say, horror. But I couldn't think of any horrible stuff to write. It's so far out of what I'm capable of writing I just can't think that way. Even for Halloween.

My contribution to Tessa's blogfest is actually a teaser for a YA series I've been mulling over for a couple of years now. I'm totally in love with the story but it's going to be so complicated I'll need to dedicate time to plotting and character development. And I've got a couple other projects in line ahead of it.

Anyway, the working title is "Last Tree on Earth" and this is a bit from the short story version I've already written. Setup: It's post apocalyptic/dystopian. Arcadia is the heroine. Auntie Willa is the tribal leader/shaman. It's kinda long, but I hope you like it.

******************

Arcadia threw another pebble into the pond and tracked the ripples by the glint of moonlight as they drifted toward shore. Atop the largest boulder in a field of them surrounding the water, she sat with her legs pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on her knee. She threw another pebble, satisfied by the hollow sploosh as it hit the water.

“You know you’ll never be happy until you know what’s out there,” Auntie Willa said.

Arcadia jerked, “Auntie! You startled me.”

“You always sit up there when you’re dreaming about leaving.”

“My place is here,” Arcadia said, hanging her head.

“You’re of age, Arcadia. Sixteen already. A grown woman. So hard to believe how fast time disappears.”

Arcadia unfolded her long legs and slid down the side of the boulder, landing light on her feet next to Auntie. “I can’t abandon my people just because I’m curious,” she said, her tone gentle.

Auntie shook her head. “No, Arcadia, you’re special. It’s been a very long time since our people produced someone like you. For centuries all we’ve done is survive. Never asking questions. We’ve followed the tribal laws and it’s taken all of our energy just to live. But then you came along. You were a restless child, always eager to know more. You asked questions I had never heard before. Instead of keeping your head down and working hard, you were always looking up as if you wondered what was over the horizon,” Willa mused.

Arcadia slipped her hand into Willa’s and as they walked back to the village.

“I know I was a difficult child. I fought it as hard as I could. I didn’t want to be different, I wanted to fit in and be like everyone else. But I just couldn’t make the questions go away.”

“And that is what makes you so special.” They stopped at the fire ring in front of the long house. Willa took a seat on the bench while Arcadia sat on the ground at her feet. “Your favorite story was always ‘The Last Tree on Earth.’” Willa said, chuckling at the memory. “You had to know what a tree looked like, why were they gone, would they ever come back. How do we know there’s still one tree left if no one’s ever seen it? So full of questions!”

“I want to know if there are still other people in the world,” Arcadia said, frustrated. “The legends say that there used to be as many people as there are ants, or stars in the sky, or grains of sand on the beach. How can that be? There isn’t enough space! Where did they all live? How did they feed themselves? How did they breathe? What happened to them?”

“Well, the legends do say that there were more people on the Earth than stars in the sky, and that they were very needy indeed. They showed Mother Earth no respect. They poisoned her, raped her, tortured her until she could take no more. She bled for them and still they didn’t see. Until finally she realized they never would. She was heartbroken that her children had forgotten her and in her rage she loosed a plague upon them, killing them all,” recounted Auntie.

“Except our ancestors?” asked Arcadia.

“Yes, except our ancestors. They escaped the plague because she took mercy on them. They were a very small group who had been trying to show her they were beginning to understand. They begged her mercy, and she let them live,” said Auntie.

“But before the Mother let loose her plague, the people had used her up. That’s where the story of the Last Tree on Earth comes from,” Arcadia said, taking up the story. “Because the people used all the Mother had to give. They cut down all her trees to make room for themselves. They used up all her water and poisoned the air and soil so nothing would grow.”

“That’s right. But the legend says that somewhere, the Mother left one tree standing as a testament to what used to be,” Auntie said.

Arcadia paused.

“I want to see that tree.”

*************

Hope you enjoyed it!

See y'all at NaNo in a couple days. I'll be writing sci-fi there.

NaNoWriMo Pregame

2010-10-29T17:28:00.001-05:00

There are excited posts popping up all over the blogosphere in these last days before the beginning of NaNo. Participants are in a tizzy making sure they've got their plots all plotted, their characters all sketched, and their immediate work space stocked with snacks and energy drinks. Everyone's buddying up so that those upward-inching progress bars will kick our competitive spirits into overdrive in order to have the highest word count evah!!!

So this is my NaNo pregame post. Yes, I'm participating. This'll be my second year. Last year I "won" writing 50,000 words of the second volume in my paranormal romance series. I've subsequently finished that first draft. So not only did I "win" by writing the obligatory 50,000 words, but I won because I got a usable draft out of it. Win-win, no?

This year I'll be a bit of a cheater-pants in that I'll be adding 50,000 words to a manuscript I've already started. I know NaNo purists will turn up their noses at me for such behavior, but meh. I don't care. The goal is to write 50,000 new words, it shouldn't matter what the project is. I've never been too wound up about following the rules anyway, so it's no big deal to me.

This WIP is a sci-fi/chick lit mashup I was working on this summer before I put it aside to revise in earnest book one of my paranormal romance (which, btw, I just sent out my first five agent query letters on today...wish me luck everyone!). The NaNo project is completely pantser - no preplotting. I've decided to go this route because the story is a crazy headlong adventure written in present tense first person and I think not having a clue what happens next - much like the main characters themselves - makes writing the story much more urgent and "here and now." The danger, of course, is writing myself into a corner. But I have a few ideas where I think these characters will end up, so I'm not too worried about it.

So...are you participating in NaNo? If so, my user name is mkdbail (I go by my "real" name over there). Go ahead and buddy me and I'll buddy you back. We'll need all the inspiration, exhortation, and cajolery we can get in order to complete the grueling journey and reach 50,000 words!

Boo-fest

2010-10-28T08:46:00.001-05:00

Thanks to Quinn over at seeing, dreaming, writing and Patricia at Simplicity in Volumes for hosting!

In the spirit of Halloween the idea of this blogfest is to tell a ghost story....a true one. Mine is posted below. It's my own story.

****************

Most people’s recurrent dreams involve flying or forgetting their high school locker combination or showing up to work naked. Not me, I dream about houses. It never used to bother me all that much.

Until the day I found one of them.

One night I dreamed about a house. Primly white with neat landscaping it boasted a row of small square windows across the top floor. Inside nobody was home, but I had the guilty feeling that comes with trespassing. I snuck through the rooms, exploring, careful not to disturb anything. On the main floor I found an office, the walls paneled in dark wood.

Upstairs the back bedroom was papered in pink and white stripes, with a fireplace at one end. Another bedroom was painted mint green.

I woke the next morning and went about my life, not giving the dream another thought because it was just one of many similar dreams. Just another house.

Months later, nearly Christmas, I was shopping for a gift for my boyfriend. I planned to visit a store I’d never been to before. Navigating unfamiliar streets, I glanced to my left.

There was the house from my dream.

I drove another block and turned around, pulling into the driveway. It was abandoned, the paint peeling, the landscaping overgrown. Several of the square windows were broken and staring like hollow, brooding eyes. It had a presence. It was watching me. It knew I had finally come.

I went home and told my boyfriend the whole story and he went back to the house with me. We went inside together. I held his hand so tight I felt the bones crushing together under my fingers. The house wanted me. It had called me.

We explored the main floor – there was the wood-paneled office. Upstairs I told my boyfriend that the back bedroom would have a fireplace and pink and white striped wallpaper – and it did. Another bedroom was painted mint green.

The house was full of scattered debris, the detritus of a family long gone. On the floor in the living room, in a pile of old papers, we found a sepia photograph of a boy and girl holding hands, happy grins on their faces. It was taken in front of the house.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and goose bumps raged on my skin. Empty and alone, this house had reached out to me in my dreams. But now that I was here I didn’t know what it wanted. I didn’t want to stay and find out.

Some houses don’t need ghosts to haunt their halls. They have souls of their own. And often, these houses haunt my dreams.

*****************

Hope you liked it! Happy Boo-fest and Happy Halloween!

btw, I'm still looking for volunteers to critique my query letter and synopsis. Anyone interested, e-mail me at maranash66(at)gmail(dot)com.

Volunteers, Anyone?

2010-10-27T23:16:00.001-05:00

First of all - look, over there, in the right column. See that? I've reached 100 followers! I think that calls for a contest or a blogfest of some sort. I shall give that some consideration and let you know when I come up with something good.

Secondly, most of you know that I'm in the midst of prepping my paranormal romance for query time. The novel is done (though for any of you writers out there you know your novel is never completely done. You could reread it a billion times and every time you'll find something to fix or change or add. But for the most part, it's ready to query).

I've written a query letter and a synopsis and I'm looking for volunteers to critique it. I'd like to find a couple of writers who have written and/or critiqued query letters or synopses before, or better yet, someone who has written a query and synopsis that garnered them an agent. That would be awesome!

My query letter is one page and the synopsis is three, so it's a short read and hopefully won't be too painful. And of course I'm looking for a quick turnaround - couple of days?

So let me know if you're interested and qualified! You can send me an e-mail at maranash66 (at) gmail (dot) com.

Cliffhanger Blogfest

2010-10-24T22:38:00.000-05:00

Here we are at one of the blogfests I'm going to participate in whilst in the midst of revisions (which, actually, are officially finished. Now I'm working on some agent research...any suggestions for agents I should query for a paranormal romance?!)

Thanks to Brenda Drake for hosting the Cliffhanger Blogfest! Participants are supposed to "leave us hanging, craving more, and cursing your name for making us want to turn a page that isn't there."

My entry is the end of section two of Chapter 12 of my paranormal romance, Faerie Fate, (yes, this is the one I've been madly revising to get ready for agent querying).

A little setup: Holly has only recently discovered that she's half faerie and has managed the task of transforming from human to faerie form. She's overwhelmed by this new world, and when Shadow publicly claims her as his soul mate she bristles at the idea of being someone's property and about losing her right to choose. This scene takes place the same night, after Shadow has claimed her, and is from Shadow's POV.

***********

Since the moment he’d accepted in his heart that she was his mate, after dancing with her at Lunasa, and especially after today when he’d announced his claim publicly, he’d discovered he had a growing physical attraction to her. He’d tried to fight it, especially since in his mind he wasn’t sure she’d ever acknowledge him as her mate, much less truly love him, but it was a fight he knew he was bound to lose. For now he just wished he could stop thinking about what she wore as she slept. He hadn’t offered her anything of his, so he wondered if she was still wearing her clothes - or not.

He threw his blanket off and slapped his feet to the floor, leaned his elbows on his knees and shoved his hands through his hair. Thinking about her naked on his couch was not going to help him sleep. It only made him want to go watch her sleep naked on his couch. Which, now that the idea was in his head he couldn’t resist doing. He padded on quiet feet to the living room and peeked over the back of the couch. She wore a t-shirt, but he saw her pants folded in a neat pile on the floor. The blanket tangled around her, one leg exposed high on her thigh, her foot dangling over the edge of the cushion.

He moved around the couch to sit on the edge of the coffee table and watched her sleep. Her breathing was even and peaceful, and her eyes moved back and forth beneath her lids, the long black lashes brushing her cheeks. He liked that she didn’t wear makeup, and he liked the novelty that her skin was completely clear of any body art. It was pristine, and it made him want to explore every inch of it. In his imagination it was as smooth as it was pure.

He felt his own skin heat as he watched her, the need to touch her burning hotter until the urge was overwhelming. She stirred in her sleep, shivering. Her lips parted and he thought she murmured his name. Amazed by what he thought he’d heard, he was drawn to her mouth. Just one kiss won’t hurt, he thought, and leaned to brush his lips lightly over hers. He shivered and groaned, torn, then kissed her again, barely tracing her lips with his tongue. He'd expected her to taste spicy like her personality, but she tasted sweet instead, and it made him dizzy.

His heart pounded and his mouth was dry, and he knew he should walk away. Kissing her, especially while she slept, would only complicate things. He’d feel guilty for taking advantage of her and he’d never be able to look her in the eye. And, no doubt, she’d be angry at him. But he couldn’t stop himself. He kissed the corners of her mouth, then took her lips with his in a full kiss. And this time, she kissed him back.

*************

Hope you liked it! (does it leave you hanging?) Now, go check out the rest of the entries!

Time Out

2010-10-20T08:01:00.000-05:00

Hey Everyone.

I'm going to take a bit of a time out here while I finish up revisions. There are a couple of blogfests I'll be participating in, but otherwise I'm going to be flying under the radar until November 1, at which point I'm going to begin querying my manuscript and start my NaNoWriMo project - which I'm really looking forward to!

It's not so long, and until then - hang tight, have fun, and peace be with you.

Revision is Hard...Difficult...Whatever

2010-10-14T21:01:00.000-05:00

I've been a bit neglectful of my little bloggy space here on the internet because I'm deep into what I hope will be the final revision of my novel. I added a new Chapter One because, as I noted in my previous post, the existing Chapter One was a dud. I'm hoping the new Chapter One is much better. Of course, the new stuff I wrote means there are repercussions now that need to ripple through the rest of the novel. That's what I'm working on now - the ripples. That, and the comments I got from betas.

One of the things I'm struggling with is making my male MC better...giving him more depth and emotion. Oddly, a couple of my secondary characters are more fun. MC dude needs to be more engaging!

But I swear, this is so the last time I'm going through this novel until I go through it again at the behest of an editor after I have an agent!

Come the first of November I'll be sending out queries. No. Matter. What.

(Re)Starting at the Beginning

2010-10-08T15:51:00.001-05:00

In storytelling, beginnings are everything. It's not enough to have dazzling characters and a rock-solid plot. If your story starts with a fizzle nobody will ever read far enough to discover the rest.

We've all read some of the most famous opening lines ever written:

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times....(etc)" Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.

"If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth." - J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

"All children, except one, grow up." Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie
"To be born again," sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, "first you have to die." - Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses

"They shoot the white girl first." - Toni Morrison, Paradise

My personal favorite opening line is: "The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed." Stephen King, The Gunslinger

But even an awesome opening line isn't enough. The entire first chapter needs to hook your readers and reel them into the story. Conventional wisdom says that the first chapter of a novel needs to begin in the action. In flagrante, as it were. No more is it acceptable to spend a chapter or two or three with setup, back story, or character rumination. There was a day when readers had to plod through all that chafe to get to the kernel of the story, but not anymore! Now we start with some action then weave the back story and character development into the story as we move forward. Personally, I find this approach much more appealing as a reader, but it can be a challenge as a writer. (We all want to start with the back story...admit it.)

The reason I find myself ruminating about beginnings is that I'm stuck on mine. My novel, Faerie Fate, has had several beginnings, but none of them has stuck. First, there was a prologue. But prologues are so yesterday, so I trashed it. Then I experimented with juggling chapters one through three to see which one "felt" best as chapter one. The one I settled on is just too much back story and plods along too slowly.

So I find myself back at square one. I've had several betas read the entire novel and, aside from the stodgy chapter one, the main complaint was that the first few chapters had too much of a YA feel to it. The remedy for these problems, at least in my mind, is to write an entirely new chapter one giving the MCs a more mature voice. I think I've come up with a good start, but it adds an entirely new dimension of mythology to the story, which means I'm going to have to do some rewriting of the rest of the book in order to weave those new elements into the rest of the story.

My timeline? It will be done by November 1st, because: 1) I've got plans to work on a different project for NaNoWriMo, and; 2) I'm determined to start the query process by then. If I'm diligent I can do it.

So what has your experience with beginnings been like? Do you breeze through them or struggle? Does it depend on the project? What's your all time favorite opening line?

At First Sight Blogfest

2010-10-07T09:10:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Jacee Drake for hosting the At First Sight Blogfest! You should definitely go check out all the entries. It's going to be loads of fun!

My entry is an excerpt from my novel, Faerie Fate. To set it up for you: Holly has never known her father, but pretty much by accident she discovers he's a rogue faerie intent on starting a war with humanity. But first, he wants to eliminate her. He sees her as a weakness, a loose end that needs to be tied up. This little bit is her first meeting with him, at his place of business.

****************

Holly heard her father’s voice from within, her very first impression of him.

“Well then, Abelo, what are you waiting for? By all means, bring her in.” His voice was like warm molasses dripped on frozen ice cream – soft and charming on the surface but brittle and icy underneath. It made her shudder and somewhere in her heart she gave up any last scraps of the childhood dreams she’d harbored about her father. She didn’t have to use her empathic skills to sense that he would be a cruel and determined force to deal with. His voice said it all.

Abelo moved further into the room, holding the door for her and allowing her a first glimpse of her mysterious father. Her heart was already pounding as she entered, but when she saw him her breath caught in her throat. She recognized their physical resemblance at once, and had to struggle with his affect on her empathy. He radiated charisma, an unyielding and powerful figure, but she sensed there was more; something buried deep down that she couldn't identify.

He was tall, with jet black hair kept neat and short, and eyes so sharply green she could see their emerald sparkle - and fierce intensity - from across the room. A dark crimson shirt, the sleeves folded to just below the elbow, accentuated his broad shoulders, trim waist, muscled arms and strong hands. The charcoal jacket which completed his suit, lay neatly over the back of his chair. He may not like being human, but he wore it well, formidably even. When their eyes met his lips spread into a magnetic smile, which didn't reach his eyes, and she sensed the wicked charm pouring off of him.

“Well, the prodigal daughter returns at last. Welcome home, Holly.”

******************

Now, go check out the other entries!

Reading Success

2010-10-05T07:37:00.000-05:00

Not sure how many of you are aware, but I did a reading from one of my WIPs this last weekend at the women's studies conference at the state university. Given that this was my first official reading, and that I was the only creative presentation on the entire program, alongside a long list of academic research papers, I was suitably terrified.

However, I'm pleased to report that the reading went very well! The room was packed, I didn't choke in any way, and the audience was receptive. Whew!

How about you? Anybody have a first-reading story to share? I'd love to hear them!

Bad News Blogfest

2010-10-02T16:51:00.002-05:00

I totally forgot that I had signed up to participate in the Bad News Blogfest!(Thanks, Francine, for hosting!!!) I feel so bad! But better late than never, right? Below is my submission to this blogfest. It's a scene from my WIP, Faerie Fate. This isn't the actual scene in which the bad news is delivered, it's a scene the next morning where the MC, Holly, is finally reacting to the news.

***************

Holly woke the next morning to bright sunlight blinding even behind her closed eyes. She rolled over but now that she was conscious the first thoughts in her head were about her father. She’d fallen asleep with dreamy thoughts of flying and living in a magical faerie world, but now, in the harsh light of day, it occurred to her that her father was hunting her down so he could kill her. Her eyes popped open. Despite a frisson of fear, though, she had to wonder how he could have harbored so much hatred after all these years for someone he'd never even met. She suddenly felt very unsafe.

She sat straight up, nearly shoving Bamboo off the bed in the process. He meowed; she thought indignantly. Her father knew about this house, didn’t he? After all, he’d been in it. How could she expect to hide if she was in plain sight? Her heartbeat jacked up a notch as she hopped out of bed and struggled to thrust one foot into her jeans while hopping on the other to peek out the window. What if he was out there right now, looking for her? She really didn’t want to be murdered by her own father. After spending her whole life wanting to know who he was, what he was like, and wanting to meet him, and it would suck if their first meeting turned into an execution.

She managed to get her jeans on and zipped, and while she hunkered down beside the window she grabbed blindly for the t-shirt she’d tossed on the floor the night before, scanning the yard for anything that looked out of place. She didn’t see anything unusual, but a sense of uneasiness still hung over her.

She glanced at the bed where Bamboo was still lounging. “I’m just being paranoid, right Bamboo?” He didn’t answer this time. She turned, still crouched by the window and sniffed the tee in her hand, making a face at the used smell of it. She made her way to the dresser to find a clean one, staying out of the line of sight of the window. “What the heck is he up to, anyway?” Overnight Bamboo had become her own personal therapist. “I mean, what’s he doing that he thinks I’m going to get in his way?” She wondered aloud, pulling a clean tee out of the drawer and slipping it over her head. Hadn’t Dusty and Shadow implied that her father was hiding out somewhere among humans plotting something diabolical? Revenge? World domination? And yet, despite everything – evidence of his treachery, and the fact that he wanted her dead - she still felt an overwhelming urge to find him and meet him. She still had an empty hole that needed a father peg plugged in. “I clearly have Daddy issues, huh Bamboo?” He opened one eye and gave her a ‘duh’ kind of look .

“But I should be able to decide for myself about him, shouldn’t I?"

Bamboo grunted a muffled meow. He didn't sound convinced.

******************

Now, go check out the rest of the entries!

They're People Too Blogfest

2010-10-01T21:15:00.000-05:00

Thanks to the lovely Tessa at Tessa's Blurb for hosting the They're People Too Blogfest. I was going to post an excerpt from a WIP, but after I looked at it, it just didn't fit the spirit of the fest, so I wrote this series of haiku instead. It's supposed to be a conversation between two personified emotions. Can you guess them?

So what do you think?

I’m not sure. I can’t decide.

Well, that’s nothing new.

Why are you so mean?

Hello? Duh. It’s what I do.

Yeah. Maybe you’re right.

Of course I’m right.

Then you decide for me.

Yeah, that’ll happen.

Oh, I just don’t know!

It’s an easy choice: chicken or fish

But they’re both so good!

Did you guess the emotions? They're doubt and sarcasm. Now, go check out the rest of the entries

Mash-Up Blogfest

2010-09-30T10:32:00.000-05:00

Thanks to the lovely S.E. Sinkhorn at Maybe Genius for hosting the MashUp Blogfest.

The blogfest is actually scheduled for tomorrow, October 1, but I'm posting early because I'll be out of town and won't have time to post. And...although I had big plans for this fest, life got in the way and I wasn't able to produce anything new so I'm reposting my entry from the Fairy Tale Blogfest (which was hosted by Emily White at Stepping into Fantasy) This mashup is of science-fiction and fairy tale. Enjoy!

*******

Rafe Charming strove always to live up to his name, and so far he'd done well for himself. In the midst of a galactic uprising he'd found plenty of work as a hero-for-hire. But this job might have been biting off more than he could chew.

"Hey, Rafe," his partner, Doc, whispered. "You still think this job was such a great idea?"

Now three floors under the ruins of an ancient palace on a planet at the fringe of the galaxy, Rafe reconsidered. A mental inventory only ramped the adrenalin another degree: one entrance, one exit, the Crone Council, an army of androids crawling the planet surface, a senator's daughter in need of rescue. All in a day's work.

"Maybe not," he admitted. His back to the damp stone wall, he inched closer to the nearby chamber, careful not to trip on rocky debris.

Keeping the wall between him and the vastness of the chamber, he slid a mirror from his pocket and edged it into the open space where the wall came to an end. What he saw inside caused a sheen of sweat to prick his hairline, a bead sliding down his temple. He swallowed hard.

Seeing his response, Doc let his head drop against the wall behind him. "Let me guess," he whispered. "Our lovely target is being held against her will in the midst of some impossible obstacle course."

"You're half right," Rafe replied.

Doc's brows rose as he considered what could possibly make their situation more complicated. Then he smacked his hand to his forehead. "Some huge, hairy, invincible creature is guarding her."

"Bingo."

"Shit. I don't know why I keep working with you."

"It's the charm. I'm irresistable," Rafe said, shooting Doc his most charismatic grin.

"Yeah, whatever," Doc grunted. "Let's get this over with. I'll take the hairy beast. As usual. You get the girl."

"As usual," Rafe finished. That was his favorite part.

They stepped into the empty space of the doorway, blasters blazing, and luck was on their side as they took the massive creature by surprise. It's eyes shot wide as the first bolts hit it, singing its fur. It bellowed rage while its blood flew, spattering the unconscious woman it was guarding. The force of the blaster shots compromised its balance and, arms flailing, it tipped backwards and toppled off the platform into the void below.

The following silence rang in Rafe's ears, but there was no time to waste. With nimble and practiced feet Doc negotiated the obstacle course, making short work of booby traps and obstructions. Rafe took up the rear, guarding against surprise flank attacks.

On the central platform, the woman lay unconscious on a stone dais, her hair an ebony puddle framing her alabaster face.

Rafe approached her, his heart tripping with anticipation. He watched her slow and steady breathing, in awe of her perfect beauty. Her lips were full and rosy and they stirred in him a desire to taste them. He amended his earlier thoughts. This was his favorite part of the job.

"Doc," he said in a reverent whisper. "The balm. Give me the balm."

Doc rolled his eyes and dug around in his pocket until he found the tube of lip balm, then placed it in Rafe's outstretched hand.

Rafe smeared it on his lips, feeling the familiar tingle as the magic took effect. It was almost gone. They'd have to go back to that creepy apothecary and get some more. He sighed. All part of the job, and well worth it if it meant kissing more women like this.

He leaned in until his lips met hers. Soft and cool and sweet, he applied more pressure - just to be sure - then savored the growing heat as the magic began to do its job. He sampled one last mouthful of those luscious lips before the heat of the magic was too much, then stood to find Doc glaring at him.

"What?" he asked. "It's my reward for a job well done."

"What a prince," Doc said. "And we're not out of the woods yet." He gestured at the dark hall from which they'd come. "We still have to get out of here."

The woman stirred and sat, rubbing her eyes. "Where am I?" She asked.

Rafe took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "C'mon, Princess, we've gotta go."

Just then, a spine-chilling cackle filled the room. Looked like their luck wasn't going to hold after all as the Council of Crones spilled from an entrance hidden in the opposite wall. As twisted and hideous as rumors promised, Rafe wasn't interested in sticking around to make their acquaintance. His job was done and it was time to go.

"Doc!" he called. "Take the girl and get back to the ship! I'll take care of these hags."

Doc didn't wait to see if Rafe changed his mind. He took the girl by the hand and sprinted out the door, retracing their steps while Rafe backed away from the crones, his blasters burning bright, serenaded by the sweet sound of screeching as each shot hit its mark.

"I take it back," he said to himself, hopped up again on an adrenalin high. "This is definitely the best part!"

***********

Be sure to check out the rest of entries on October 1!

Blog Award

2010-09-28T14:54:00.002-05:00

Just a quick note to thank the lovely Donna Hole for awarding me my first blog award! Thanks, Donna! *waves*

This "One Lovely Blog Award" requires that you acknowledge the blogger who gave it to you (done!) and pass it on to 15 bloggers you have recently met. Below is my list. Check them all out...they're really great!

Love you guys. Everybody go share the awesome now!

Banned Books Week

2010-09-27T07:30:00.001-05:00

September 25 - Oct 2

This week why not read a banned book? (You know you want to *wink*). Open your mind and look at the world from another point of view. Personally, I've never understood book banning. First of all, it only proves the cowardice and small-mindedness of the banner(s) and secondly banning something only makes it that much more desirable. Remember prohibition? Yeah. Like that. Alcohol was illegal? Really? Like that kept people from drinking. It only made people more determined to drink.

Hmmmm. So maybe we should ban books in a sneaky backward effort to makes people want to read them more. Anybody see what happened around the blogosphere when some dude advocated banning the book, Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson? A huge wave of support and lots of publicity for the book. So, I wonder if a little reverse psychology is in order?

The Great Blogging Experiment - How to Write Compelling Characters

2010-09-24T07:31:00.001-05:00

Thanks to Elana Johnson, Jennifer Daiker, and Alex Cavanaugh for hosting The Great Blogging Experiment. The subject for the day, which everyone who has signed up for the experiment will write about, is "How To Write Compelling Characters."

Good question!

What qualities make characters effective? Irrisistible? Compelling? Well, think about your favorite characters....what makes you cheer for them? Become invested in their lives and stories? It's their flaws, right?

Interesting characters aren't perfect. They make mistakes. They learn from them. They're vulnerable. They're needy. Often they're brave and determined to overcome. They're human.

Even though it sounds simple, it's not always easy to do. It's tempting to write the undefeated hero, or the indestructible heroine. But that's boring. There's nothing at stake. No room for conflict.

Satisfying characters allow us a glimpse into ourselves, help us see ways we can be better. They give us ways to try on lives we would otherwise never experience. We want to see people with our own flaws and doubts succeed despite their weaknesses.

So my ...ahem...sage advice for writing compelling characters is to give them imperfections and personal challenges to overcome. Put them through the ringer and see how they react. Make them mess up and have to fix it and learn from it.

Perfection is boring. Make your characters messy!

Blogfeast!

2010-09-23T08:54:00.000-05:00

The lovely Angela over at Jaded Love Junkie is hosting today's Blogfeast. My entry is below. It's just part of a scene from my WIP, Faerie Fate.

********

Their house was small and homey. The space was loaded with a soft overstuffed couch and chairs in mismatched patterns. In the kitchen, Willow was cooking something that smelled good enough to make Shadow’s stomach growl. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

“That smells great, Willow.”

Willow began the business of serving the meal and not too long after she’d set out plates and bread, Dusty burst through the door, skidding to a stop in the middle of the room. Starrie and Shadow jumped when the door slammed open, but Willow seemed to take it in stride.

“Where've you been, Dusty?” she asked as she dished up another bowl for him.

Dusty leaned over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “You’ll never believe me even if I tell you,” he said between heaving breaths.

“Try us,” Shadow said.

“Well, I was flying through the forest, saying hi to some friends, and it was just such a beautiful morning I kept on flying, you know? I ended up in a pretty meadow where I saw a deer I know and she introduced me to her baby, and then I saw some lights through the trees so I went to check it out.”

“So, what was it?” Shadow prompted him.

Dusty gulped a couple of shallow breaths as he went to the kitchen and got a drink. “Willow, you remember the house outside the forest where that nice old lady used to live?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, she doesn’t live there anymore.”

Shadow heaved a sigh. Dusty’s storytelling irritated him, mostly because it took him forever to get to the point. He struggled to maintain his patience as he watched Dusty guzzle his drink, wipe his mouth and put the cup in the sink. He wondered if there would to be any more to the tale other than an announcement that some old human woman no longer resided in the house she used to reside in.

“If she doesn’t live there, why were the lights on?” Starrie asked.

“Exactly!” Dusty exclaimed, as if the mystery were solved.

“Was there someone else there now?” Willow prompted.

“Yes there was. I got close enough to see a young woman on the porch and she had a beautiful ginger kitty on her lap. He was so furry and it’s been a really long time since I talked to a cat. So I made sure the lady was completely asleep and I snuck up to the porch and talked to the kitty. But it turns out he wasn’t so friendly after all.”

***********

So, that's my entry. It's not a feast, just a little breakfast among friends. Hmmm. Wonder what happened between Dusty and the cat?

Now go check out the rest of the scenes at Jaded Love Junkie!

Top 10 TV Shows Blogfest

2010-09-20T08:47:00.002-05:00

Thanks to Alex J. Cavanaugh for hosting the Top 10 TV Shows Blogfest. His Top 10 Movies was an awesome fest, and this one will likely be just as fun!

It's very difficult to choose only 10 TV shows because there are soooo many I like/have liked over the years. But these are some of my absolute faves (in no particular order):

Sliders

Stargate SG 1/Stargate Atlantis/Stargate Universe (I know it's 3 shows, but I'm lumping them together)

Star Trek Voyager (Because I love Janeway)

Big Bang Theory (Brilliant genius writing)

Battlestar Galactica (the new one, not the old one)

Monk

The Closer

Eureka

M*A*S*H

That 70's Show

Cheers

#11 Bonus! Warehouse 13

That's my Top 11 (which would likely change depending on what day you ask). Now go check out the rest of the entries at Alex's site!

Fest Success!

2010-09-18T23:11:00.000-05:00

Remember when I said that Hubs and I were going to have to team-write for the 24-Hour Play Festival because the organizer's boyfriend wanted to write? (Which he did, by the way, and his play was, shall we say...not good. By any stretch of the imagination. Pee-you.) Turns out another writer didn't show, so Hubs and I got to write our own plays after all. Yay!

So, 7:30 p.m. Friday everyone shows up to the theater, introduces themselves, shows their prop and costume piece. Then at 9:00 p.m. the actors and directors go home and sleep while we writers go write. First we have to collect a jumbo supply of writing munchies including a sub sandwich, a Twix bar, grapes, gummy bears, and pop (That was my personal menu. Everyone else had their own).

At first, I really didn't have any idea what I was going to write. Then I decided it would be fun to adapt this, which I wrote for the Invasion of the Bloggy Snatchers blogfest under my "real" name.

It turned out spectacularly well. I was terrified the actors wouldn't be able to memorize all the lines in such a short period of time. Two years ago when I wrote, I drew some newbie actors who completely froze on stage, couldn't remember their lines, and the play bombed big time. Let me tell you, that was the epitome of embarrassment for a writer.

Tonight, however, I got awesome actors and they pulled the play off without a hitch. It was great!

One of the best things is that as a writer, watching the play from the audience, I was able to see the places where I could make adjustments and improve the play. It's a great opportunity. I'm sure other writers experience this too, where everything you write sounds great when you read it in your head, but to see it performed points out the flaws very clearly. I think this play has potential in the long run, and watching it performed helped me to find the places where I can improve the timing, add jokes, delete lines, tighten dialogue.

How did Hubs' play go? Well, not so great. He pulled newbie actors who pretty much bombed his play. The script was good, but the acting stunk. So now he's had the privilege of experiencing writer embarrassment.

Overall, though, it was another really awesome 24-Hour Play Festival!

It's Play Fest Time!

2010-09-17T10:16:00.000-05:00

Tonight is the 24-hour Play Festival. I still have no solid story ideas. This does not bode well.

Plus, another guy (the boyfriend of the organizer) wants to write tonight and since there aren't enough actors or directors to go around for an additional writer the organizer asked if Hubs and I would write as a team so now we have to work together which isn't necessarily bad but often leads to bickering and differences of opinion. There's lots of love, too, don't get me wrong, but that comes later after we're done writing and getting along again.

I'm sure we'll pound out something good...maybe even awesome...but it'll be - shall we say - stormy between now and then?!

Wish us luck! And I'll let you know how it goes.

Countdown to Play Fest

2010-09-15T10:29:00.000-05:00

I was looking through my writing journal last night, trying to brainstorm ideas for the 10 minute play I have to write this weekend.

The journal is full of ideas for novels and screenplays and things I want to write. Some of them are more developed than others. And some things are just a couple of sentences...phrases I thought were cool or that popped into my head for no reason. Some I can't even remember where they came from.

For instance. I ran across this last night:

-He used a pig as a diversion.
-How clever is that?
-Evil genius clever!

I have no idea where that came from or why. But I think it's kinda funny. Sounds very Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

Hubs was having a panic attack last night because he didn't have any ideas for his play, but this morning he was giddy with them. Last night he wanted to pull out and this morning he was excited about what he wanted to write. I'm still trying to formulate a plan. No story ideas have clicked yet. But I'm sure something will!

Let The Festival Begin!

2010-09-13T16:03:00.003-05:00

My revision deadline is quickly approaching and although I'm almost on target to meet it, I think I'll end up overshooting it by a week. Which isn't so bad, I guess. Only a couple of chapters to revise, add a couple of scenes, revisit the prologue and voila...done!

So what will I be doing this coming weekend in view of this looming deadline? I'll be spending all night on Saturday participating in the annual 24-Hour Play Festival at the university where I teach. I've taken part for four years running, so it's practically tradition. I can't possibly not participate!

How does this work, you ask? Well, on Saturday evening all writers, directors, and actors meet and greet, and present their prop and costume items. Then the actors and directors leave to go home and sleep in their cozy beds while the writers have the next 7 to 9 hours to write a (preferably coherent) 10-minute play using the actors who are assigned to them and as many of the props and costume pieces as possible. In the morning, after the plays are written, the bleary-eyed writers go home and sleep and the actors and directors show up to begin rehearsing. Then Sunday evening it all comes together for performance!

It's an amazing creative experience and I look forward to it every year. Of course I'm one of the writers, and actually Hubby is going to write this year too (he's a student at the university). So we'll be sitting down at some point between now and then to brainstorm some possible ideas so we don't go in completely cold on Saturday. I've done that a couple of years and the results are not pretty. It pays to at least have a couple of ideas on the back burner.

So anybody have any story suggestions? Anything clever? Funny? Dramatic? Anything interesting theatrically?

The Dreaded Blockage

2010-09-10T09:50:00.003-05:00

Here I am, my second post, and I'm already talking about writer's block. Not a very uplifting or inspirational subject, hmm? But if you're a writer, you understand. It's that moment you sit down and look at your story and an icy lump settles in the pit of your stomach and you think, "oh God, what words come next?" but there's no answer.

Unfortunately, writer's block is a real problem for some writers....okay for every writer. We all face it at one point or another, whether we're willing to admit it or not. And it sucks. It may not be a block of epic proportions where you're incapable of writing for weeks or years. *shudders* I don't even want to think about that kind of block.

So I'll think about the kind of blockage most of us experience: the temporary, short-lived block. Of course temporary is relative. It could be minutes, it could be hours, it could be days. God forbid, weeks. Whether you're struggling with a first draft or revisions, that feeling of staring at the screen while your mind skitters around thinking about everything but the story, is horrifying.

I don't know about you, but when this happens to me this is usually how it goes:

I look at the words and they just don't make sense. It's like Cyrilic or Klingon. I panic because I've self-imposed a deadline and I'm on a tight life-schedule and I just don't have time for writer's block! Which, of course, only makes it worse. I start fidgeting and my stomach gets all knotty. My leg starts doing that bouncing up and down super fast jiggly thing.

My Muse has abandoned me! What the hell do I do now?!

I think, gee, maybe if I distract myself the Muse will show up again. I'll trick him/her into action by pretending not to care.

I wonder who's on Twitter? (I go check out Twitter and make banal comments of my own then Tweet comments to everyone else).

I check e-mails on all my accounts, which takes some time because I've got my real name acct, the family acct, my school student acct, my school instructor acct, my pen name acct, my small business acct.

I realize I need to harvest my crops on Farmville before they wither and die (Facebook, here I come!).

I go back and read (and comment on) Tweets I missed while checking e-mail and harvesting crops.

Hmmm. Bet I can find something cool on YouTube (I scurry on over and enjoy).

OMG, I can kill tons of time while I wait for my Muse to get his/her head in the game by catching up on all the blogs I haven't read today (I lurk the blogosphere, reading and commenting...getting ideas for future posts ; ).

I go back and read the Tweets I missed while watching YouTube videos and reading blogs.

Pay the bills? Sure!

Let the cat out? Why not?

Get a donut and coffee from the kitchen? Of course!

(Check Tweets again)

Play with the kids? You bet!

Mow the lawn? Maybe not.

Call mom? Okay, definitely not. Time to actually face my writer's block

(Gotta check Tweets one more time, and a couple of the e-mail accounts)

Okay. Now I'm really going to face it. *sigh*

Now it's time to lament: Why me? Why now? It was going so well just yesterday! Words were flowing like a lyrical stream! Why is today any different? It's just cuz I'm a crappy writer, I know that's it. Just because I had a good day yesterday doesn't prove I can write. Why oh why oh why?

I'm XX years old, I've done nothing impressive, discovered nothing important, been nothing interesting, and nobody would ever want to read anything I have to write. (cue pathetic music, tears, wailing, and hair pulling)

Okay, so maybe it's not quite that bad but that's what it feels like.

What do I do to overcome writer's block? Usually if I plug my brain into my MP3 player, go through the Twitter/e-mail/Facebook/blogs/donuts routine, then force myself to face the screen, my Muse will at least reluctantly show up. If I reread the last chapter or two, my Muse is usually impressed enough with him/herself that they'll grudgingly participate in today's writing. And once I get started....sometimes all it takes is one word ....I can keep going from there and forget the block ever happened.

Until the next one and I have to do it all over again.

But I'm so close to the end of revisions I can almost taste it. Two more chapters to revise, add a couple of scenes, and revisit and rework the old prologue and tack it back on the front of the MS and I'm ready to send to betas!

So how often are you blocked? And what do you do to unblock? Don't tell me you've never experienced it, because I know you have. C'mon...tell me. Tell me! Tell Me!!!

Welcome to Mara Writes!

2010-09-07T08:17:00.004-05:00

Welcome to my author blog! I'm glad you've joined me here!

I'm still building this blog, so bear with me as I add new features and the blog evolves.

Maybe I should start off telling you a little about myself? I'm a writer, and my current projects include a paranormal romance trilogy and a sci-fi/chick lit novel. I'm also working on a screenplay and I have a couple of short stage plays in the works.

I'd like to talk to you a little bit about pseudonyms. Mara Nash is my pseudonym. I decided I needed a pen name for several reasons: I want to keep my writing life separate from my family, and to avoid any issues with my job. Of course every writer hopes that at some point they'll make a living from writing - and I'm no different - but until then I still need a day job, and I don't want to mix the two. Also, my "real" name just isn't very writerly. It doesn't have any "wow" factor.

The subject of pen names has been explored brilliantly and in depth at various writer's blogs around the blogosphere. In fact, Rachelle Gardner has also discussed it today on her blog, so please visit her there for some great advice.

As a writer, there are several reasons you may want to use a pseudonym. Like me, you may have a job or be looking for a job and want to keep your writing and working lives separate. Imagine you work as an elementary teacher by day and write erotica or romance by night. It could be inconvenient to have your employer....or family....google you and find out about your other life. A pen name might be in order if you just don't like your name (again, like me), or it's very common and you share it with a lot of other people, or it's the same or similar to a celebrity or another author. If you're planning on writing in several genres, it may be prudent to have a pen name to keep your writing life neatly organized.

We've been discussing the issue of pen names over at Critique This WIP and for various reasons we all decided we needed one. The fun came for all of us in selecting pseudonyms we could feel comfortable with. Tessa was already using a pen name, so the issue was a moot point for her, but the rest of us struggled to find names that "felt" right, that we could comfortably assume and not feel like we were playing at pretend.

I'm nearly finished with revisions of the first novel in my paranormal romance trilogy and will be sending it out to betas soon, then beginning the querying process, so I felt it was prudent to begin the process of assuming my pseudonym.

An interesting point Rachelle made in her blog post on pen names is that writers should start the query process from the beginning using their pseudonym. Do all of your correspondence using your pen name, and identify yourself in that way. You don't need to tell the agent it's not your real name until they offer you representation. This is good information to know, and something I had no idea about before I read her blog post. So, thanks Rachelle!

I'd be interested to know your feelings about pseudonyms. Do you use one? Why or why not?