Deep Thoughts... & A Spring Fever Teaser

An idea keeps drifting through my brain: Intense pressure can produce a diamond or it can produce dust.

It sounds better in my head. But still... Diamonds and dust. Why am I thinking this? No clue.

So when we moved here less than two years ago, the movie version of The Help was just coming out, and everyone was talking about that book and the issues it raised. I thought, "I'd like to write a book like that..."

A book that takes on hard topics and isn't boring. It's possible The Truth About Letting Go is as close as I'll get.

It's a contemporary romance, like all my books, but the main character is struggling with a crisis that has rocked her entire belief system.

And while sparks fly every time she kisses our hero, he stands for the very system that let her down and broke her heart. So she pushes him away. Or they pull together for smooches that usually end in arguments...

I think it has a very spring-into-summer feel... I'd love to hear what you think!

Here's the Spring Fever Teaser! (It's a kissy one, yanno. For spring and all.) Enjoy~

On Amazon

Jordan kisses me again, and everything in me wants more. I want him to groan and tell me I’m beautiful. I want to slide my hands under his tee and feel his skin. But he breaks our lips apart. He places his chin on my head and puts his arms around my shoulders.

“Oh, man,” he breathes, before kissing the top of my head.

I sigh as I press my cheek to his chest, surrounded in his warm hug. His hands slide up and down my back slowly, and I slip my fingers under his shirt, finding the skin underneath. That’s when he steps away and pulls the towel off his shoulders. 

“I’d better go.”

“Don’t!” I reach for him, and he catches my hand.

“Being alone with you is not a good idea.”

Frustration burns in my chest, and I have to fight getting angry with him. How can I be angry and yet so totally into him at the same time?

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” I say.

“Not as crazy as you’re driving me.”

I hop down and follow him to the back door not even trying to hide my disappointment. “But what about your shirt?”

“Bring it to me later.” He grabs the windbreaker off the peg and catches the door. Halfway out, he steps back. I’m still frowning, but his cute smile softens it. “This is really cool.”

“What?”

“Being here with you. Being sorry to go. You being sorry I’m going.”

“I’m keeping your shirt.”

He grins and kisses me quickly. “Deal.” Then he closes the door and sprints across the lawn to his waiting car. 

The Truth About Letting Go is just $2.99 on

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes | AllRomance | OmniLit

Print copies on Createspace and Amazon!

Have a super week, reader-friends~ <3

Kids & Writing by Dr. Q

First, let me say a heartfelt Thank You to all the men and women in uniform who've given their lives to keep us safe and free. Have a wonderful Memorial Day holiday.

And since this blog is also about being a mom, I'm super excited to welcome great bloggy friend Dr. Susan Quinn (link) who has a brand new book out (see below) and is guest posting on how to get your kids writing.

A great potential summer activity!

So without further ado~

Ten Ways To Get Kids To Write

by Susan Kaye Quinn

Getting my kids to write was slightly less painful than delivering them into the world, but a lot more frustrating. Because it goes on for years and years and years ...

When I tell people that my 13 year old son Dark Omen wrote a novel and is now working on the sequel, they give me this knowing look, like, Well, of course! What did you expect? You're a writer!

If they only knew.

None of my boys (ages 8, 11, 13) enjoyed writing when they were younger (in the case of 8 year old Mighty Mite, we're still in that nooooooo stage of the writing experience). But I'm a patient mom (er, sometimes), and in the spirit of my Twelve Tips for Reluctant Readers post, I've pulled together Ten Ways to Get Kids to Write:

When the boys were little, we had a mini-easel that was chalk on one side and marker on the other. It spread chalk dust like crazy and we were always having to clean it, but having writing materials easily available (Way #1) meant we could stop and draw letters or cats (lots of cats) at any time.

Later, when they were in school, there was lots of writing time during the year, but during breaks and summer, I stapled together pages of writing paper with a construction paper "cover." This "book" was theirs to decorate, but they had to write a sentence (or paragraph or page, depending on the age) in it every morning, setting a regular time for writing (Way #2) - interestingly, Dark Omen still does most of his writing in the morning.

Sometimes I gave writing themes (Way #3), like Christmas lights or going to the pool, but mostly I let them write whatever they wanted (Way #4), even if it was only "I hate writing." (They thought this was the height of funny.)

When they were older and could write longer passages, I enlisted the help of writing workbooks (Way #5) - get the good ones, they're worth it - with worksheets on grammar as well as narrative writing. To mix it up a little, I also gave them assignments (Way #6): write a letter (from a list of our relatives), write a poem, write a song, write a recipe.

Here it helped to have a variety of writing supplies (Way #7), from index cards to fancy stationary. The most inspiring writing materials were consistently any notebook or writing material of an odd shape or texture or origin (Way #8), whether tiny spiral bound notebooks or giant sized, cardboard-latched binders.

My boys even spent one hilarious night writing secret notes on the backs of fortune cookie slips.

As long as they were writing, I was happy.

Note: most of the time I was not happy because they were not writing. I tried to give them a journal (Way #9) - not a diary - but that was met with scorn.

My final Way is not really a technique, but an attitude: cultivate patience and don't give up (Way #10).

Kids all develop at their own rates and it may take time (a lot of time, years worth of time) before they reach the milestones you want. But just like reading, writing is an essential skill that will wither if not actively encouraged.

Now, I have to pull Dark Omen away from his spiral notebook that he relentlessly fills with words and characters and stories. I have to tell him to eat breakfast before writing, to make sure it gets in him before he has to run to the bus and Junior High. And if I had told my younger-parent-self  that my oldest son would some day be a novelist, I would have had a good laugh.

And I probably needed it, too.

If that's not enough ideas to keep you from tearing out your hair, Imagination Soup has ten more writing activities for kids.

May the Odds be Always in Your Favor.*

*Getting kids to write isn't quite as brutal as the Hunger Games, but somehow the analogy seems apt.

What ways have worked for you?

~~*~~

Closed Hearts (Mindjack #2)
$2.99 at Amazon, Barnes and Noble (ebook and print)

When you control minds,
only your heart can be used against you.

Susan Kaye Quinn is the author of the bestselling YA novel Open Minds, Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy, which is available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iTunes. The sequel Closed Hearts has just been released. Susan's business card says "Author and Rocket Scientist," but she mostly plays on Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest.

Mission: Imperfection

Happy New Year, bleeps! Here's to a fantastic 2012, and may all your resolutions and dreams come true.

Over the holiday, JRM and I sneaked in a few date nights, and on one, we saw the new Mission: Impossible film. It was very entertaining!

It reminded me of a chat I had with Dr. Q (link) recently about watching movies like a novelist.

Mission: Impossible, 2011

She and I agreed that it's hard not to study character development, pacing, plotlines, etc., while watching films these days, and usually we're disappointed by the too-fast pacing, plot-holes, and undercooked characters.

In the case of MI: Ghost Protocol, it was the opposite. J.J. Abrams is a great storyteller, and he did a wonderful job rebooting the franchise.

What stood out to me the most was the unimaginative premise: A madman is on a mission to steal a nuclear warhead--a Soviet warhead, no less--and destroy the world.

Wow. That premise is so old, it was the basis for a spoof movie that's also 20 years old.

Not only that, it opens with an agent getting assinated in the field, a prison break, and the whole IMF team getting disavowed. (Meaning, they're now rogue agents classified as terrorists.)

I sat in the theater and thought, "Seriously? This again?"

But I tell you, it was the best MI film I think I've seen since the first one. Naturally, I launched into study mode. Why did this work?

The tension stayed high because the story kept me guessing. (OK, maybe some of you out there saw the twists coming a mile away, but I didn't.)

Wasn't this the suit he wore in Rainman?

All the high-tech devices malfunctioned, Cruise did not save the world again and again--in fact, he failed on all but one occasion--and the Americans and the Russians worked together to fight the bad guys.

It was a nice twist. It was also a great writing rule-reminder: take the expected and flip it around.

Yes, there's nothing new under the sun, but I'm starting to believe audiences and readers like the familiar. That's why it keeps working over and over again--only with a twist.

Maybe that's the classic secret: Human experience is common, but if you can take a few common experiences that don't normally go together and mix them up, you come up with something uncommon. And maybe, sometimes, it's something even better.

What do you guys think? Seen any good examples of this lately?

Have a great week, reader- and writer-friends! Til next time~ <3

Don't argue with Yosemite Sam

So Anne Kenny (link) and I were swapping Zombieland quotes last week, and since it's almost Halloween, I had to rent the movie.

Upon rewatching, I remembered Cardio and the Double Tap and Avoiding Bathrooms... You know, The Rules to survive in Zombieland.

JRM asked me if he'd laughed as hard the first time Woody Harrelson asks Jesse Eisenberg if he wanted to see how hard Harrelson could punch.

That got me to thinking about characters and character development.

When I was a little kid, I didn't talk a lot. I'm making up for it now. (insert laugh-track)

Anyway, as a child, I spent a lot of time watching and listening to the adults around me.

I try to impart this wisdom to my two young daughters, who like to ignore the adults in their lives. You can learn a lot by just watching and listening.

One of my relatives is a lot like the Woody Harrelson character in Zombieland. Heck, I'm from south Louisiana. I have several relatives who are like that character.

My point is, when I was a kid, he might've been a bit... intimidating.

Don't get me wrong. He's sweet and loyal and would give you the shirt off his back. But this character-type is not the Scarlett O'Hara, swoon, "dropped mah hankey" sort of gentlemen.

It's making me want to get back to that little south-Mississippi sci-fi I've got sitting in the drawer.

I've written two books involving gentlemen. And trust me, I love the gentlemen.

But sometimes it's fun to hang out with Yosemite Sam. You know, the guy who just needs a Hummer and some hollow-point ammo on a quest for a dang Twinkie.

Characters. All sorts. Just keepin' it rill.

Til Thursday. Have a great weekend, reader- and writer-friends~ <3

When the Revolution Starts

Over the weekend, I chatted with a friend about the "Occupy Wall Street" protests, and we both agreed it reminded us of the French Revolution.

I proposed the question: Who do you think will say, "Let them eat cake"? (You know, Marie Antoinette's infamous response when she was told, "The people have no bread"?)

Source

Supposedly that's a journalistic cliche, and the beheaded French queen never actually said those words. 

As for who'll demonstrate his/her cluelessness today, I like to think it'll be one of those Kardashians. 

But perhaps that's the writer in me.

My guy friends have always played the "when The Revolution starts" game whenever another of our friends does anything militia-ish (like purchases a big truck or moves to a remote location or mentions owning a gun).

Example: "We'll all be in so-in-so's barn with the gun collection when The Revolution starts." (laughs)

I don't actually know anyone with a gun collection, but I have been pondering my lack of fire-starting skills. The last time I thought of it when I watched that Tom Hanks movie where he was trapped on that island. 

You know, in Castaway. I'dve never got that fire going.

To bring all this nervous laughter around to writing, I was also thinking this weekend about how popular dystopain fiction has become.

How did everyone know to start writing about the end of the world as we know it about two years ago?

I've never been one of those writers who tries to capture "Our Times," but here's my question: Is it possible our writing is always marked by what's going on around us? 

Like, even if we're spinning tales of romantic comedy, are they still laced with the meltdown of the global economy? Or something else?

I do know when the Revolution starts I'll be headed South. Those country boys can survive, and they all seem to know how to get a good fire going.

Have a great week, reader- and writer-friends. Stay safe. Til Thursday~ <3

What we think we know

I read The Joy Luck Club in one sitting on a flight from New York to London.

Doesn't that sound romantic?

Truth is, I was in college, and I was helping a friend's mom "chaperone" her high school English students on one of those 10-day guided tours of London and Paris. It was a fun experience.

But back to the book.

I was hooked from the start by the story of the goose and the feather and the mom wanting to use it to tell her daughter all her stories.

Then Amy Tan goes immediately to the days after the mom's death, and her daughter casually remarks that she doesn't know anything about her mother.

That sets off her mother's friends who instantly begin regaling her with "Remember this?" and "Remember that?" They insisted that she did know her mother, and the implication is they fear their own daughters don't really know them.

I remember when I read this book in college, I related completely with the daughter. I felt like I didn't know anything about my mother--at least not as an actual person who'd had real life experiences.

In a way, I still feel like that sometimes. Just a little.

Now we're here, and I see my little daughters struggling with the stress of the biggest move in their lives (so far). My youngest daughter, the one who broke down crying at the news we were moving 850 miles due north of the only home she'd ever known announced today that she's having a wonderful time!

She loves it here!!!

My oldest, the one who was so excited to return to the city where she was born, who couldn't wait to see snow, and who told her little sister not to be afraid, "it's going to be an adventure," announced yesterday at breakfast she wants to go home.

I feel all torn up inside.

On the one hand, I understand exactly how my eldest feels. She wants familiarity. She wants to know that today when she goes to school, she's going to see the same faces, sites, and sounds she's been seeing since she was old enough to remember.

I get that.

But I keep telling her to hang on. The longer we're here, the longer we'll have been here. The more familiar it'll be, the more faces she'll recognize. Just hang in there.

I want to tell her my story of coming here for the first time ten years ago. Back then she was my little feather, a secret in my womb, and I held onto her as I willingly gave up everything I'd ever known and my life quietly began to change.

I planned to wait until she was old enough to understand, but now I fear that day will never come. That as time passes, feelings change. And memories sound different out loud, in the present than they do in one's heart, in the past.

This feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions...

Do we ever know people the way they want us to know them? Do people ever know us the way we want them to?

It's a thought that's buzzing in my head now that I'm out of the cave. Maybe it's time for a new opening paragraph.

Til Thursday~ <3

Delightful Smells & Dead Stuff

Most everyone's doing the A-Z challenge this month. I'm not, but my post today happens to coincide with the letter D... It's D-day in more ways than one around here, but more on that later.

I got many different reactions to my assertion that boys stink--on both sides. As always, I'm ready to be corrected. Heck on this matter, I want to be corrected. All my male characters smell delightful.

And when I read Crazy Writer Girl's (hilarious) post, I didn't realize I might be writing unrealistic contemporary fiction by asserting my male love interests were fresh as daffodils.

I'm a MOG (mother of girls), and JRM is thoughtful enough to hang his sweaty clothes on the side porch after exercising. So we're not subjected to stinky boys.

The good news, is I was not all wet! Here's what I've learned from my MOB (mother of boy) commenters:

• Not all boys smell! It's more a function of their age and level of physical activity.
• The boy stink seems to max out around late-elementary school (around eleven). And Truth: our little ladies can hold their own in the stink-department after a hard day's playing.
• Once the prospect of love enters the picture, our fellas (and girls) magically transform into frequent bathers who often drown themselves in perfumes and deodorants as well. (*cough*)

Now I'm thinking I need to get my sniffer to the store to expand my sensory vocabulary. So here's to heavenly scented teens (of the non-paranormal variety).

And my apologies for asserting they might smell otherwise. (I was misled!)

As for Dead Stuff, my good bleep Jen ("Unedited" link) sent her query letter through Matt's Q3E recently (link), and there was a mini-discussion in the comments over whether she should use the label Chick-lit, as that genre has been pronounced "dead."

Saying your book is a "rom-com" was also named the Kiss of Death.

I started thinking about other categories that were Dead until something new gave them the old Dr.-Frankenstein-electric-shock treatment.

Things like paranormal before Twilight, slasher films before Scream, even Westerns before the Cohen brothers remade True Grit.

So... 
-Should we just keep swimming in the face of assertions that our genre is DEAD? 
-Should we all start working on our YA dystopians immediately? 
-What if someone is starting a paranormal romance (which is on the verge of Death again)? ... irony.

Have a great week, reader-friends! Til Thursday~ <3

Matched Plot Points

I finished reading Ally Condie's Matched over the weekend. Time constraints prevent me from writing a review, but I will eventually.

I can say I enjoyed the novel. Even with all the turmoil that's been swirling around in my personal and professional life, every time I picked it up, I was pulled back into the story.

And I love, love, lurv the cover. It's gorgeous.

It's also perfect, with the green dress under glass and the girl inside the shape of a seed pushing to break out--alluding to what Cassia's mother said about breaking the glass, what would happen, and what eventually does happen.

Touches on every major plot point. I want whoever did this cover to do mine. (Pretty please?)

Instead, I'm thinking today about similarities in books. I read a two-sentence review of Matched in Entertainment Weekly that said it echoed The Hunger Games and gave it a C+.

Some of my bleeps who also read the book disagreed with the Hunger Games comparison but thought the grade was correct. I disagree with the grade, but I do think if you strip The Hunger Games of all the blood and gore and simply focus on the love story and the social uprising, out would fall a little green copy of Matched.

So is it fair to use plot similarities between the two books as a strike against Condie's debut?

Anyone who knows anything about how the publishing process works will agree that it's impossible one influenced the other. Even if we put the process at a Stephenie Meyer's pace, it would take three months to write and polish it. Then say, give her another two months to land Jodi Reamer. Give Reamer a month to sell it, and then give it a year to be published.

That puts her starting the book, which was just released, in early 2009. The Hunger Games was released in Sept. 2008. (OK, it could have happened. But I'm willing to bet Condie had not read THG when she got the idea for Matched. Although she is/was an English teacher...)

It got me to thinking about my own little YA Sci-Fi Jackson, which is sitting on hold with lots of notes. In it the 17 year-old female MC has a part-time job assisting a large-animal vet, and she's taken as prisoner to a working farm run by aliens.

The aliens are in hiding on Earth, and they're not so much interested in hurting the humans as they are in keeping them quiet, unnoticeable to passing intergalactic hunters. I was thinking of the humans as being like a group of five year-olds in the aliens' eyes, and the aliens being desperate parents. (Must make these humans behave/be quiet!)

My point is, there were a few eerie similarities in Condie's debut and in the notes I've made for Jackson. But I just read her book!

I started Jackson last summer--seven months ago--before I'd even read either Matched or The Hunger Games. (Here's the link to my post about it from July.)

So what does this mean for me? Scrap my whole idea? Come up with another idea?

But my ideas fit perfectly with the experience and personality of my MC, and with the motives and goals of the aliens. My novel's not dystopian. There's no uprising against a seemingly perfect society or government...

What do you guys think? Is it inevitable in the literary world that plot points are going to cross at times? Is this grounds for ditching/changing a manuscript (MS)?

Have a great weekend, guys! Til Monday~ <3

Tell your story

Hubs and I were watching the 2006 documentary Maxed Out last night (link). It's all about predatory lending, consumer debt, and how the American economy was (is?) teetering on the brink of ruin.

Yes, I said 2006.

LTM: Wow. Did this guy get any awards?
JRM: I don't think so.
LTM: How was this movie received?
JRM: It was largely ignored.

That got me to thinking about writing, of course. Because that's all I think about these days. That and crickets. And I was thinking about how you just have to write your story.

The fellow who made the documentary (James Scurlock) was intrigued by a phenomenon he saw happening, and he made an incredibly prophetic film that too bad nobody heeded.

Well, I say that, but I bet all the pinch-pennies in the audience (like me) did. I remember listening to Elizabeth Warren on Fresh Air in 2007 predicting the sub-prime mortgage crisis and thinking I was going to have to pull over and barf.

But back to books! I know agents say it all the time, but I imagine it's hard with all the vampire books and angel books and demon books and Hunger Games books and etc. etc. etc. books flying off the shelves. It's tempting to say, "(you know) it. I'm writing one of those!"

I say don't.

(I mean, unless that's your story.)

Maybe I'm just a cock-eyed optimist, but I believe if you've got a great story, you're passionate about it, and you're able to tell it in a compelling, well-crafted way, it's going to do well--whether it's fantasy, literary fiction, chicklit, historical YA, or whatever else isn't considered "hot" right now.

In 2007, vampires weren't hot.

So what? Do you agree? Disagree? 

Would you say "If you're a good writer, write to trend, get your foot in the door, and after that, do what you want?

I'm just wonderin... Otherwise, have a great weekend! We're doing the Nutcracker. (link) <3

(something like) Near-death experiences

Over the summer we talked about using The Method to get into the spirit of WIPs.

At that time I was working on WIP2, a SciFi in which the MC is trying to escape a hostage situation. There are times when she either fears for her life, or at the very least experiences some serious anxiety.

To get in that mindset after spending hours with my two hilarious little cherubs who were home full-time enjoying the heck outta summer vacation (!), I'd channel my inner Marlon Brando and try to feel the way I felt the one of two times I ...

OK, to say I "feared for my LIFE" would be a bit dramatic. Let's just say, I felt that cold fear in the pit of my stomach that said, "This could get a whole lot worse before it gets better..."

Time #1:
Catherine was three months old and we still lived in Indy. We were at a Christmas party in Carmel (suburb to the north) where JRM was part of the musical entertainment. I left to go home, nurse the baby, get some rest, and inadvertently left my cell phone in JRM's suit pocket.

Oh, well! No worries, Indy's a grid and I knew where I was going, right?

Problem: the low fuel light was on in the car, I was at least 10 miles from home, and it was the middle of a snowstorm.

Now I grew up in south Louisiana--Baton Rouge--and we don't get much snow there (if any). And when we do, it just sort of flies around like chicken feathers for an hour and we're all high on life for another ten years.

I had no clue that when it really snows, the snow sticks to the street signs, completely obscuring them and making it very easy to get lost. Carmel is not a grid, and before long, I had no idea where I was in a snowstorm and a sputtering car.

At one point, I actually got out of the car and banged on the door of a house (no one answered) before trudging back and getting in the car to stare out the windshield at the whiteness. In despair, I put my head down on the steering wheel and prayed. I was freaking out, and I felt...

The Feeling.

[I wound up with a nice little Christmas miracle. Right when I lifted my head, I noticed a green street sign (miraculously) not covered in snow that had an arrow pointing to a school that was the landmark for Meridian Street/U.S. 31, which ran a few blocks parallel to North College, which was the street where we lived.]

Time #2:
JRM and I had traveled to one of his lawyer conferences in San Francisco, and for fun, we rented a car and drove through wine country, up the coast to Mendocino where we spent the night.

JRM has always talked fondly of that little village on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific, and we got a room at the MacCallum House. It was really beautiful and romantic...

Well, when it came time to drive back, rather than taking the same road back down, JRM got out the map and plotted us a "quicker route."  (That's always the way it starts, right?)

We had plenty of gas this time, the only problem was the makers of the travel atlas we used clearly had never driven in the mountains of northern California. We headed out in the direction the map said would lead us to the highway we sought optimistic, happy, refreshed...

Then we passed a green sign that said "highway ends 20 feet." And it did! Dumped us right out on a narrow, gravel road in the middle of the redwoods. We looked at our phones--zero cell service.

No worries! JRM assured me. We'll keep going and hook up with "our" road in about 12 miles--see it here on the map? LTM: (smiling) OK!

We drove on and the gravel road got narrower and narrower until we were literally on a one-lane trail, winding through the mountains looking out across treetops and hoping a logging truck wasn't headed our way in the opposite direction.

Relief! After a few miles we started passing hand-written notes on the side of the road listing the highway number we sought.

We were undeterred that they were written in marker and posted on what looked like paint stirrers... It was going to work out! We weren't going to freeze to death or end up eating each other to survive!

After 12 more miles, three more signs, and still no road, JRM made the executive decision to turn the car around and go back the way we came. LTM: (not smiling) OK!

So we turned around and headed back... until we came to a fork in the road.

You see, along the way other, identical little roads had been joining the main one from up the mountain, down the mtn, around the mtn...

JRM: Did we come from up there or over there?
LTM: (swallows knot in throat) I don't remember... I wasn't looking.

Then we looked at the little hand-written signs and realized they were written with the exact penmanship of a Serial Killer. I looked at my cell phone again--still no service.

LTM: Try going to the right.
JRM: I'm not sure that's the direction we came...
LTM: Just try it.

So we did. Then we came to another fork. And the same situation.

At that point, JRM got out of the car and walked a little ways ahead of us on the path and stood looking into the woods. I sat in the car watching him, thinking of my two baby girls at home, wishing he were a little fatter, and feeling...

The Feeling.

...

Obviously, we got out of that one. Another miracle, this time not at Christmas. JRM managed to spot a trash heap he remembered on the way in and got us back on the correct road and ultimately back to Mendocino where we got on the established route back to San Francisco.

Several months later we heard a news story about a couple who froze to death after getting lost in the woods of northern California in the wintertime. We looked at each other and for a second I again remembered...

The Feeling.

***

So that's one way The Method helps us writers. And I'd love to hear any stories you guys have to share! Continued good luck to all the Nanners and Revisers. I'm hard at work with the latter group.

Until Monday--have a great weekend! <3

That Silly Muse

Why does inspiration strike the way it does?

I was in the shower Saturday, trying to get ready as fast as possible because I was due to work the Princess Both at our school's annual Fall Festival, and voila! I had this amazing idea for how to work a requested revision into BNN...

And then when I made that change, naturally, I would have to return to an earlier scene (which page was that on?) to work in how the change would be foreshadowed.

Oh, yes, and then there's this later scene that won't make sense now if I don't make this note...

And oh my goodness! This change is so cool, it could actually become something of a "lesson" the MC learns by novel's end! Must make note to think about whether or not that will work...

Thirty minutes later I'm almost late for the princesses!

Not only that, we almost missed the entire festival. JRM is annoyed--will you ever get away from that laptop? Babies are cranky--Mommy! It's time to go!!!

sigh.

I'm thinking of my NaNo bleeps today (link). I'm not participating because for me it's ReviseMo, but I would so be there otherwise. The idea of writing every day with goals and partners sounds so motivating.

And that silly muse. Am I the only one who gets inspiration at the darndest time? (Am I the only one who feels guilty for having her head in a cloud the entire time I'm working on a MS or a revision?)

Good luck, Nanners! Til Thursday~

Who will be your book this season

Mary Poppins here~

So the wind changed this weekend, and with it came a new story idea. A dark and velvety idea that I don't expect to end happily. It has captured my attention...

Most of you know I grew up in Baton Rouge. When I was in high school, if you admitted to being happy with our hometown you got labeled a "Baton Rouge lover," and that somehow meant you had no imagination or had settled. At 16.

The peer pressure in my group was very much to leave home, make your mark. And while I won a few academic scholarships to different schools and was planning to attend Loyola in New Orleans, at the last minute I decided to go to LSU and live on campus. I even joined a sorority (Phi Mu). What a disappointment I was.

Baton Rouge lover.

But the French-Catholic culture of my hometown was so unique and inspiring to me. I did love it and I often miss it now that I have moved away (and can't get a decent meal anywhere).

On Saturday when I walked outside to cool breezes and zero humidity, my initial response was "Who's going with me to New Orleans?"

Oh... wait.

My daughters ran outside in their nightgowns and my youngest said, "What's that smell?" It was the clean, grassy smell of dry air. We don't get that a lot here on the coast.

Somewhere in the distance a neighbor was mowing the lawn and to me it sounded like an accordion. I thought, "La lune, trop bleme, pose un diadème sur tes cheveux roux..."

When I was very young, a Scottish family would come to our church and perform. The father, Simon Cameron, played the accordion and I remember he would always cry at some point during the show.

I'm not sure if it's that or homesickness, but now whenever I hear an accordion, I feel a surge of happiness mixed with nostialgic melancholy.

I chaperoned a group of high school students on a trip to Europe when I was in college. As we walked along the streets of Paris, I spied a set of stairs that seemed to go straight up. They were built into the side of a hill and they looked a million years old, all dippy in the center.

Naturally, I took off to see where they led, and when I finally reached the top, I turned around and my breath caught. I was on Montmartre and the entire city spread out before me. I'll never forget it.

What about you guys? Any places in your past or present that are particularly inspirational? Any place or thing that "shouldn't" be, but is?

Only one thing to do: WiP3.

B'love~

When characters find you

One of the fun things about writing for the newspaper is getting to talk to so many different people and ask them all about their lives, etc., without it being weird or stalkerish.

All of my interview subjects are interesting, but occasionally, I'll get someone whose personality or world view is so unique. Naturally, my little writer's brain is all fired up by the end.

For example, I interviewed this lady once who said she moved from Colorado to Biloxi (Mississippi) one summer in a black car with no air conditioning.

What a great image! I've never been to Colorado, but I can imagine it's nowhere near as hot as the almost 100-degree temps and 100-plus humidity Biloxi gets in the summer. Not to mention the topography...

Even more, I think about the car with no air conditioning, the young woman "running away from home," the 20 year-old adventure seeker. It wasn't her car, she said. She moved with a friend and eventually made her way to New Orleans.

Another time I interviewed a local farmer who was receiving an award. He has more than 600 acres that he's worked since the early 1970s.

This man was so interesting to talk to. He told me his first job was at the local dairy until one day he decided to start his own place. He said looking back it was a bold move.

At 19, he'd married his sweetheart, and when he left his job at the dairy, the (very) young couple had four kids. He put them all to work and now theirs is one of the biggest farms in this area. One of his sons is gradually transitioning to run the place, following in his father's footsteps.

I asked him what it was about farming he loved, and he told me it was the hard work, the connection with the land, working with the animals, growing his own food.

He's currently raising grass-fed cattle, and he was very knowledgeable about organic farming and methods.

He was so thoughtful. He said farming was hard, sometimes heartbreaking work. He said, "You go to bed disgusted and then wake up the next morning optimistic again."

Then he laughed.

It's tough to write for my "day job" and then attempt to be a novelist in my break. But what a lucky gig.

Not a Night at the Improv

I've been thinking about many things...

• Bill Murray's "800" number (you leave a message and if he's interested in working with you, he calls you back),
• Lady Gaga = couture Madonna. (Yes?),
• How boring I found Eclipse the movie (not the book), yet so many people are "going to see it again"...  (!) (really?)

Some fellow bloggers recently posted about using music to get into the spirit of their WiPs (Works in Progress). A few even gave their playlists for those WiPs--good stuff!

You all know I love music lyrics and the emotion of instrumentation. But for some reason, I haven't used the music technique since Book 3. No clue why.

Two posts I did find very helpful recently were about using the five senses to develop 1-Setting (Wordplay) and 2-Makeout scenes (Oasis for YA). I'll be paying more attention to that going forward.

LTM: Use more than one sense...

Then I read a post over on the Burrow about how you have to be good at Improv to be a good writer.

Pause.

Sorry, Jason. I'm going to have to disagree with you there. Not to be *itchy, but because I just have to if I'm going to keep writing.

You see, I took an improv class in HS, and I was a Freak of Nature in it: I simultaneously sucked AND blew...

Then I worked at the television station (WAFB-9, CBS affiliate) in Baton Rouge, and you know those little tag parts where the reporter will give his or her comment on the story right there on the spot? Well, they film those right there--improvisationally.

When I went with the reporters to tape those, the camera guys would usually be super sweet and film a few shots of me doing a tag to use in my video resume for when I interviewed to be a reporter...

I'll just say it: I was AWFUL at them.

If any of you watch 30 Rock, the scene where Liz Lemon is filming the promo for her book? That was me. Take 589...

I remember this one camera guy was so patient. I can't remember his name (of course), but he was skinny and wore glasses and reminded me of another friend of mine Chad... Anyway, notChad was my hero.

I don't know why, but the minute he'd say "Go," I would forget how to smile like a human, wave like a human, talk like a human... I was seriously retarded, and I apologize for my use of the R-word. It's simply the truth...

But I could write the heck out of a news story. I could also read the heck out of a teleprompter. The one-story anchor spot we filmed of me looked like something off the evening news--it was freaky.

So I'm not going with the whole "you have to be great at improv to be a great writer" argument. I'm sorry, I just cannot allow that to be true. My apologies to the Burrow. You know I love you guys.

Actually, I've found that lately, since school's been out and I've only been getting snippets of time to write, I've become a very Method writer. I mean, if we're sticking with the acting analogies and all.

This post is getting long, so I'll make this the Intro. Part 1, if you will. Come back Thursday, and I'll elaborate on how this little writer uses The Method to get into the mood of a scene or the spirit of a book.

Look out K.M.! I might do a v-log next~

P.S.
If any of you writers out there don't follow K.M. Weiland's amazingly helpful blog "Wordplay," you should. I swear she catches me every time I'm needing a light bulb.

I'll be over here stumped, thinking "how do I do this" or "why does that matter," and her little acoustic guitar will start playing... in walks K.M.: "When I'm stuck there or wondering why that matters, here's what I do..." 

Check her out. (That's a link to her blog, kids.)

Book review - Harsh Pink & a CONTEST for charity!

I've gotten a lot of feedback that folks are really diggin the book reviews I've posted, so I'll keep those going periodically as I finish books you (or your kids) might find interesting.

(I just realized it might also be helpful if I put the title of the books in my blog titles so you can see what all's been covered--Hello! Must go back and do that...)

So I just finished Harsh Pink by Melody Carlson, and I have to 'fess up, I thought it was pretty good!

I expected this to be one of those true "homework" books (nobody falls in love in it; even worse, it's an "issue" book). But Carlson's characters are solid and her tale is well-told.

Harsh Pink is another of the inspirational YA novels I've read in my efforts to learn more about this market. Here's the cover:

It's #12, the last, of Carlson's True Colors series. Each book deals with a different "teen issue," and in this case, it was mean girls.

Harsh Pink opens with main character Reagan moving to a new school and inadvertently bouncing the most popular girl there from the varsity cheerleader squad. Sort of.

Apparently, Miss Popular blew off practicing for tryouts, and there's also the sophomore, former JV captain who made the squad.

So Reagan's one of two new cheerleaders Miss Popular, as first alternate, takes aim at getting off the squad. Ultimately, Reagan gets pulled into Miss Popular's circle and former JV captain becomes the target of MP's stunts.

What I liked about Harsh Pink is the way Carlson demonstrates both the power of one popular person over the actions of many (weaker) others, and the pressure to conform when that popular person chooses to take you under her wing.

The timing of my reading this book couldn't have been better because JRM and I had just been discussing our own daughters and how they're growing up and how soon they'll be dealing with other girls, mean girls, etc.

I shared with JRM my concern that our oldest really cares about what her friends think and being cool and how she's perceived by others... Our youngest tends to be more like me--You wanna play with me? Be fun and grab a spot in the sandpile. You're in.

At the same time, while I tended to be loose when it came to friends and excluding others as a child/teen, the encounters I remember most painfully were the times I stood by and watched while others were targeted.

I think we all recall how kid politics worked. And Carlson captures those dynamics beautifully in Harsh Pink. Reagan's a sympathetic character. She's not the one pulling the pranks or leaving people out, but she often stands by and watches the events unfold--it's not her deal, right? But the book isn't preachy. It's well-done.

At times, I found the writing a bit repetitive and there wasn't a lot going on outside the mean girl dynamic, but at 210 pages, that's OK. And knowing there's a tragedy by book's end keeps the tension high.

Shew! The teenage years are tough. I applaud Carlson for tackling this thorny subject, and I give Harsh Pink a B+.

I encourage my teen followers to give it a read--especially if you're in the position of victim or the one feeling pressured to conform. It's got some good insights. Heck, even if you're not a teen it has some good insights.

If anyone else has read other books in this series, I'd love to hear your recommendations! Otherwise, read on, reader friends and mean people *stink*~

**CONTEST! It's ON! If you're a writer, you don't want to miss this one--win a phone call w/an agent, page critiques, and more. If you're not a writer, there's free books and other prizes galore!

And by participating, you'll be helping establish communities and provide clean water to people in Ghana through Joy 2 the World. Check it out at this link: Candyland contest. It's fun and easy to enter. Contest ends July 31~

Thoughts from the (writing) cave

Similar to Postcards from the Edge...

It's my last child-free week of the summer, and I've been trying to make the most of it. I now have two WIPs, and I have to admit, I'm starting to wonder about the source of all this creative energy.

Are you there, God? It's me, LTM...

I did a "Get to Know" feature on a chiropractor yesterday for the paper. He specializes in upper cervical injuries and their effect on the brain stem.

Since my current novel going out was inspired by my own neck injury (which flared up right before I started writing and persisted throughout), I'm thinking now I can never have it addressed...

Yes, that's crazy, but those baseball players have some crazier superstitions. At least I wash my clothes.

Moving along, I ask you, if you can read two books at once, is it possible to write two books at once?

WIP #2 technically originated on a family visit to Ruston (La.) last year. JRM and I were joking about all the town names in Mississippi as we passed them, and I said I was going to write a story about Prentiss Puckett (two towns in south Miss.) and her adventures with her dog Cato (another town) and her friend D'Lo (yep) and they'd all live on Dabb Creek (that's another one).

On the way home after the fourth Monday, JRM and I revisited my story of Prentiss, and I added a love interest (of course) Jackson Edwards--guess where we were in Miss. at that point--and his nemesis Gallatin Street. I also added a brother Braxton for Prentiss and a best friend Flora Magee.

JRM really wants me to write a science fiction book, so I said this would be my SciFi novel. Because how unexpected is that?

So I've spent the last three days fleshing out the characters and I have a rough idea of where the humans are going, I only have one problem...

The science fiction portion of the story.

Yes, you may LOL! But through brainstorming with my SciFi loving husband, and I mean LOVE-ing, I've actually got some good ideas on that front as well.

So who knows. It's just an exercise, and it might end up being total garbage. It might not, but I wouldn't put any true SF writers on alert.

The most likely result will be one of my stories set in unusual, science fiction-ey circumstances. Perhaps that's more post-apocalyptic.

As for WIP #1, the first five of which I ran through the Yalitchat critique group--an excellent resource, btw--I've had to make notes and hold it.

The main character in that book is in such a dark place. It's hard to get in her head when happy things like my birthday, the fourth of July, socializing with out of town guests, etc., are happening.

I am not complaining. I love happy things. I just see how my joy leaks into the character, and it's inconsistent with her voice. Basically, it takes more effort (and rereading) to find her again.

But I think that's another good one. It's a very emotional story, and I see the arc for that character so clearly.

Oh, to have all the time in the world to write! (says the drama queen)

Back in the cave with me. Have a great week-end, reader-friends! Book review on Monday~

Clean teen

So I'm writing these books for YA readers, and I've so far chosen to stick with realism. Light romance, a little humor, situational comedy.

But about half-way through Book 3 of a series I've got going, the main female and male (teen) characters... well, let's just say they've got great chemistry.

What was that movie with (I think) Meryl Streep where she was a novelist and they would have real actors play out what her characters were doing while she watched? Or was that Nicholas Cage? Or... wait a minute... was it John Candy?!

Anyway, there I am happily typing up a scene, (teen) male lead and female lead embrace. They've finally declared their love! They kiss. They kiss a little more... that's pretty good, so they get a little closer when...

Hello! Where are those hands, mister? Missy?

I picture it something like this. I'm in my glasses with a pencil stuck in my hair and a stern look on my face with these two (naturally) great-looking teenage kids panting in front of me.

LTM (frowning): You two are not mature enough for this sort of thing.
Male lead looks guilty; female lead glares in defiance.

Yep, those are my literary babies.

So I've got those two cooling their jets in the "drawer" (it's really just a file on my computer) while I think about what to do with this.

I know it's a common concern because just yesterday I read a post about it on another writer's blog. The issue of sex in YA novels and how to handle it.

I suppose if I weren't a mom, I'd have a different reaction. I know much has changed for me since I gave birth. Whereas I used to laugh at Faye Dunaway's Mommie Dearest, now I cry, "Stop beating little Christina!"

Still, my characters are real kids, and in the kind of writing I aspire to make a living at, authenticity is everything.

I have characters who curse occasionally, although I've left out the F-bomb. I know, I know. Kids say it, but I'm not writing an episode of the Sopranos. I also haven't decided to write strictly inspirational fiction.

I've noted how some writers handle it. They'll have the chemistry kids "on break" from other relationships, and they're too honorable to "cheat" on their holding significant others.

That's good, but you can only use it so many times.

In Brand New Novel, I handled it two ways. First, the chemistry kids were separated because female lead was determined to date someone else. Then when they finally did get together, it was a natural place to end the book.

Yay! We're together now--kissy kissy, close curtain.

But that won't work in Book 3. And I'm sure I'll run into this again if I keep writing.

Even in the inspirational fiction I've been reading, I see authors grappling with this. It's not realistic for kids to get married at 17, but if you set up this dynamic... well, it's not realistic that they just hold hands either.

But good Lord, you can't go around romanticizing teenagers having sex. That's completely irresponsible.

I know! So show the potential consequences, right?

Well, that's just an enormous buzz kill. I'm trying to write for entertainment over here.

So what's the answer?

Eureka! Male lead's a 150 year-old vampire who can't have sex with female lead or he could kill her!

Wait...

No, it's a tough one. And it's going to test my creative mettle.

Let me go on the record saying I don't think it's OK for teens to be having sex. But I appreciate that being a teenager is hard. And not because I buy the whole "they're exposed to more sexual images these days" line. (Read my "Madonna Earth" post for more on that.)

I'd really appreciate hearing what other writers think about this issue. Even parents of my potential readers (i.e., parents of teens), or any teens brave enough to venture into these waters. (Lord knows I played dumb on the subject at that age around adults.) Or just anyone who has an opinion. You know I'm easy.

Hey--not like that.

It's Starting Again

I've never watched any of those Psycho sequels, but that's a great line.

It popped in my head this morning because writing a book is a little like being possessed. Not in a murderous "my dead mom's telling me to kill people" kind of way, but close. (Although I suppose if you're Stephen King, it's exactly like that.)

The thing is, it takes so much focus and concentration to keep those characters in character and not lose them. Or get them mixed up with your own character. Or another character. And I've got the worst memory. Seriously.

Last fall when I was working on Debut Novel, I went in the cave for two weeks. I didn't leave the house, didn't socialize. I just thought about the book and the plot and the characters and what they'd do next and why and what would happen next to get them where they needed to be. And why...

I took care of the kids, finished my paying gigs as fast as possible, and then hit the laptop. I'd be up in the middle of the night writing. I had to! A scene or situation of dialogue would come to me, and if I didn't stop (or get up) and write it down, it'd be gone by morning.

I finally had to tell Richard what I was doing when he made some crack about me having an online affair.

Uh... no. Sorry. Nothing that exciting or potentially destructive. Just writing a book over here.

Richard has also said I have a touch of OCD. His proof is that I'll be typing on the computer while he's talking to me and I can completely block out his voice. I've told him. He really talks a lot...

So I did it. I wrote this book from about Sept.-Oct. of last year. Then I got to the point in the story where there had to be a reason two of the main characters were keeping this Big Secret, so I sat down and wrote a sequel/prequel to Debut Novel.

That just happened. I wasn't really planning to write a sequel/prequel.

Then I went back and polished polished polished Debut Novel and started sending it out. Then I started finding links like this and had an episode of mini-depression: http://bit.ly/cRH4Ab.

Then I started getting requests from agents to see DN, and I got over it. It just might happen after all...

All this time I was thinking that that was it. I'd done it. I'd written two and a half books, I was working my tail off to get one published with the hopes that people would like it so much, I'd finish out the series, and that was it. That was all I had.

Over. Done.

I seriously couldn't imagine coming up with another story line or another set of characters or another situation or anything like that. I don't really remember how I even came up with the first one.

I mean, I can sit around and think of a lot of incidents and conversations  that led me to the point of having enough stuff in my head to fill a book. A few books even. But an actual inciting incident? ...

Nope.

And then last week I was sitting around, minding my own business and I thought of this girl getting hit in her car. She's sitting at a redlight, minding her own business and WHAM-O, somebody plows into her back end.

She isn't hurt, but now there's this person in her life she didn't know, didn't ask to know, that she's having to deal with. Her life's been changed and it doesn't stop there. Things are going on in her home, in her small hometown, etc.

And I'm down the rabbit hole again.

I let Richard read the first 30 pages last night, and he's diggin it. I have an idea where this is going, but it's a little scary to me. I'm not convinced I'm brave enough to follow these characters where they're headed. I'm not sure if I'm a skilled enough novelist yet to show how much they really do care about each other. (Aspiring novelist.) They're about to be hit with some tough, painful decisions...

Richard says, "Keep writing."

So I guess I have to. More soon~

Nerds on spring break...

Driving in from the coast yesterday, my oldest complained that she wanted to stay all week.

"But then you wouldn't get to see Grammy!" I tried to console her. "And Daddies don't get spring break," Richard said.

Catherine's response: "When I grow up, I'm not going to work. I'm going to sit around all day in my slippers and eat chips."

Of course I had to ask. Doritos.

Living near the beach, we've become very aware of plastic and its effect on the sea life. We reuse and recycle, and I'm one of those nerds who hauls the cloth bags into the grocery.

I'm also the nerd who arranges all my items on the conveyer belt so they fit neatly in the bags and don't make them too heavy for me to carry.

Most checkers don't even make eye contact.

Imagine my surprise when a colorful-haired Asian boy checker looks up and says, "I like the way you organized your items."

I smiled and couldn't think of a thing to say. Is that a thank you moment?

It was definitely a "Nerd Alert" moment. And a potential character interaction was wrinkled in my little writer's brain...

Art or Talent?

Made it through the sickness, Bidding of the Bulls was a success (or so I hear). Thanks to everyone who called to check on us. Maybe next year I'll actually get to go.

Also, note to self: When home alone caring for sick children, don't play around with follow-up email ideas unless you're comfortable hitting "send" instead of "save." Hello! (Me: just act cool.)

What have I been doing... Well, Thursday night I got an idea in my head for the first few sentences of what could be a new, different book. So on Friday, I finished all my paid writing assignments and sat down to get typing and after about three pages I stopped.

It's good stuff, but I'm not sure where it's headed.

It got me to thinking, I was reading a writer's blog last week, and the writer was talking about how she outlines her entire novels before she writes them. That's her style. My brother also mentioned outlining when I told him about Debut Novel.

My dirty secret: The idea of outlining an entire book before I start writing it gives me the itch.

I used to think that meant I was a bad or undisciplined writer until I read Stephen King's On Writing. He doesn't outline either. He just gets an odd idea in his head and charges after it to see where it leads.

As a hopeful novelist, that was very reassuring to me. And you kids out there who've decided to give up writing because the ideas of outlining and extensive reasearch make your eyes glaze, take note! Your style might work for you. You just never know.

Also on Friday I was jogging and Nico popped up on the shuffle. She was singing about "leaving in the fairest of the seasons," and I was thinking how her voice reminded me of a goose.

I don't dislike Nico, I actually find her interesting. She gives me ideas for a future character if I find the right story. (Who knows, she might turn up in the one I started.)

I did a little research on her and her recordings with the Velvet Underground and her time at The Factory a while back, and she's so odd. But not in a bad way.

The song I was listening to was from her debut album, Chelsea Girl, which she reportedly hated because of all the production work done after she laid the tracks. She just wanted bare bones, her voice, an acoustic guitar, and I think a harpsichord.

If you're familiar with Nico, you can imagine how dreadful that would've been, and I can just imagine the record execs' eyes glazing at her unmarketable ideas.

(See how I sneaked some research in on myself? You might be doing it too and not even realize it. ;o)

Then I started thinking about artists. Working in the creative field, there's always pressure to be an artist. A lot of people refer to themselves or are referred to as artists, but I'm not sure that's always accurate. I think there's a difference in being an artist and simply being talented.

In my experience, artists are typically not concernd with the market. They also don't always care what the client wants. Sometimes that works for them and usually it doesn't.

Can fiction writing fall into the realm of art? I haven't thought through the criteria, but it's a creative field. So I'd say yes.

Then I thought of the prolific writers like Stephen King or John Grisham or Barbara Kingsolver. Margaret Atwood and J.K. Rowling. Are they talented or artists? Is it possible to produce only the occasional work of art? (Does that make you an artist or just talented and lucky?)

Or perhaps in the case of the Charlotte Brontes, you create one work of art that endures. Speaking of the classics, was Charles Dickens just talented or was he an artist? What about Shakespeare or Jane Austin?

So that's where my brain's been. Anybody read any good art lately?

Here's the link to that Nico song.