Since I was having such a hard time with the last chapter of AIWD, I was longing for something new and different to write, to get me out of the funk. Something easy, or something that came to me easier, instead of struggling over every word and trying to make them string together and make perfect sense. And then….

Same Time Next Week… the bane of my existence… my unfinished 2009 NaNoWriMo… the story that was not going to be finished… started talking to me. It started telling me where I could back the story up to and where I could lop off the diseased portion and where I could take the story from the new jumping off point. I’ve been rearranging the last two days and tonight actually added new words. And got to a point tonight that makes me excited to jump in tomorrow. DRAMZ, ya’ll!

Ugh. So excited. And so happy that ideas are flowing, and that I’m not struggling. I just needed to focus on something different, and this story is much looser with language and sexuality so I can uh… let some things flow. LOL. I guess I just need the release and every once in while I need to pull myself out of AIWD and do something else. Since I can’t quite get started on that Criminal Minds fanfic. HA!

But seriously, it’s still rolling around in my brain. *smacks self* Stop it!

My only issue is how to post the new version at the archive because I already have great feedback on what’s there and some of that gets replaced. I’m hoping it will be alright to close the old version and re-upload the same story but a Redux version. So many things are moved around and added that it’d be hard to go in and edit the old chapters. And then the feedback wouldn’t make any sense.

But I think I want to finish it, before I even start to thinking about that…..but it’s nice to think about.

On Sunday, May 16, 2010 post your favorite flirty scene, either from one of your WIPs, or a brand new one you’ve written just for this blogfest. It can range anywhere from sweet to hot, and any genre is fair game…you don’t have to be a romance writer to participate!

I wrote something specifically for this Fest, but I kind of hate it. It’s so bland. Boo. Then I remembered a scene I really liked from my 2009 NaNoWriMo. It is edited from its original form but the gist is the same. Some steamy flirting going on, so this excerpt is Rated R.

Excerpted from Same Time Next Week:

Somewhere between the second shot and him letting her win at darts, Shelby decided that whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. It seemed like it was going that way-if he wasn’t to ask her to go home with him, he wouldn’t have asked if she was hungry. That sneak was trying to drag out the date!  She didn’t blame him. She wasn’t ready to go home yet, either.

‘Besides, I could use some of that, right now.’

The Dessert Lady was a cute little store front with striped awnings over the windows and tables for two set up around the small space. At the front of the store, a glass case was lined with rows and rows of cakes and pies from cherry to strawberry pie, from pound cake to chocolate cake to coffeecake. Shelby’s eyes lit up at the selection. Jackson was momentarily forgotten-she was lusting after the chocolate torte, sitting in the middle of the case.

“Have you had any of these, before?”

“Honey, I have had all of these before. They are all excellent. You’re a big fan of chocolate, right?  The torte is excellent…”

“I was looking at that…”

“Or the Six Layer Cake is really good, too… or the Oreo Cheesecake. I’m partial to the Peanut Butter Pie, myself.”

After a few minutes of slowly crawling the dessert case and drooling over each selection, Shelby made her decision, nodding at the decadent layers of chocolate in the middle of the case. “That torte is calling my name.”

Jackson ordered for the both of them, and then, despite being alone in the store, pulled her toward a table near the window, behind an oversized fringe curtain. The table was small, so small their knees bumped under it.

“So, you’ve been in Orlando all of four days. What do you think of it?”

Shelby gulped at the glass of water set in front of her. Three beers and two shots made for a very tipsy girl. She wanted all of her wits about her, later on. “I like it. It’s nice. I mean, a little frustrating at four am, but at least it’s quiet. I feel like I don’t get a moment’s peace in Miami. The city never sleeps. That gets tiring after awhile. So, yeah, it’s nice. I’m in Winter Park, actually. Real small town-ish.”

Jackson perked, sitting up straight, head tilted a little. “Wait. You live in Winter Park?” Shelby nodded, smiling. She had no idea where he lived exactly, just that he was rumored to have a home there. Winter Park wasn’t that big… he had to be close.  ”What part?”

“Off of Park, near Rollins College, I think it is?”

“Yeah, I’m not too far from there at all. Lake Virginia. How weird that we live so close to each other.”

“Well, if you think about it, not really. We met at the neighborhood grocery store. It’s not like I drove from Melbourne to shop at the Winter Park Publix.”

Jackson smirked, narrowing his eyes, mouthing a playful ‘smartass’ across the table. He was delightful. So funny and laid back. And cute. And so sexy. Every time he smiled at her, her stomach lurched and she felt warm inside.

‘Ask me already! I don’t want to go home tonight. How many more signals do I need to send??!’

“Here we are,” said the server, a short woman dressed in white, complete with baker’s hat. “Peanut butter pie and chocolate torte. Enjoy.” She slid two plates and two forks onto the table and left a stack of napkins.

“That looks so good,” she said, eyeing his plate, stacked high with a peanut butter-chocolate concoction.

“It is. Haven’t had it in a long time, actually.”  He sliced off a chunk and slid it into his mouth, his eyes closing as he chewed, a few light moans coming from his throat.

Shelby laughed at his dramatics. “Is it really, really good, Jackson? You look like you’re about to–”

He laughed, almost shooting peanut butter and chocolate out of his mouth. “Not yet,” he said, wiggling a brow at her while shoving another forkful in his mouth. “It is good though. Want to try some?”

“I’d love a taste.”  Jackson picked up his fork again, but she stopped him with a touch of her hand, shaking her head slowly, a hint of a smile on her lips, praying he would catch her hint. ”Not from there.”

He caught it, loud and clear, but seemed like he wasn’t sure what to do. He blinked, swallowed, and then, springing into action, reached under the table to grab a rung of her chair and slide her around so she was sitting next to him.  Wasting no time at all, he laid an arm over the back of her chair and leaned in, tilting his head toward her. She met him halfway, mouth open, eyes closed, heart racing.

Warm. And sweet, and soft and gentle, and oh my God. He was kissing her. And he was awesome at it.

His tongue rasped across hers, over and under and around, swirling, spreading the taste of peanut butter and chocolate with it. His lips were soft, brushing against hers over and over, light as air. Shelby fought herself every second, trying not to push the table back and climb onto his lap, sort of grateful he hadn’t touched more than her lips. She was already on the edge, and just about over the point of no return.

He pulled back, his eyes dark and hooded, but his expression gentle. “How was it?” he mumbled, his face still so close to hers.

“Delicious,” she answered, grinning, licking residual peanut butter taste off of her lips. Trying not to pant.

“Thank you. I enjoyed that myself.”

“Good. It’s uhm… rich. The Peanut Butter Pie.”

“Yeah, it is. That’s why I like it. Lots of flavor.” He stared at her, blinking every few seconds. She stared back, bold. Refusing to look away and pretend she was shy, despite how… intense his stare was.

“So, uhm, not asking about the past, but I know you don’t sleep well. Are you… are you tired, or…”

“Not at all.”

He cleared his throat, and swallowed again. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could go someplace a little more private. Do some real talking.”

“Really. Where would this place be?”

His tongue flicked out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. He reached for his water glass and sucked down half of it. Shelby’s eyes never left his face. He laughed, finally, looking at her again.  “Why are you making this so hard on me?”

She giggled, caught in the act. “Because you already know the answer.”

“I do?”

“You wanted me to suggest I go home with you? How many times am I gonna hear Jackson Pierce ask me to go home with him?”

The smile faded, slowly. His eyes dropped to her lips, and he kissed her again, this time more forceful and passionate, deep breaths through his nose, his lips pressing hard against hers, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, fighting with hers. He grabbed the back of her head and held her against him, against his mouth while he kissed her. It was so damn hot… the hottest kiss she’d ever had. Ever.

He pulled back, ending the kiss in a smack, and before his eyes even opened, said, “Come home with me. Please.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice no higher than a whisper. “We should maybe get our dessert to go. I’ll want to eat this torte, later.”

“And I’ll want to taste it.” He leaned in to her, his lips almost touching her ear. “Maybe I could lick it off of some places, too.”

Shelby stood so fast, she nearly knocked the chair over. She shook, she was so excited, and had to calm herself down before they left the store, to- go boxes in hand. Jackson seemed to be in a hurry, pulling her down Church Street, then crossing the street and walking toward a dark blue Mercedes. The lights flashed and the door lock clicked with a mechanical sound.

“Well, shouldn’t I just follow you in my car?”

“Nah, just hop in. I’ll bring you back to your car.” He all but pushed her into the passenger seat and shut the door as soon as she was inside, then walked around the front of the car and got in on the driver’s side.

“Okay, Jackson?” Shelby laid a hand on his arm. She understood his pain… really, she did. But this rush job wasn’t very sexy and was ruining the mood. “Relax. It’s gonna happen. I’m not a tease. You don’t have to rush. Take your time.”

He exhaled, blowing out a long, slow breath. He laid a hand over hers and squeezed. “Sorry. I’m not rushing. I’m just…. I like you. I’m ready. And I want to do this. Like, yesterday.”

“I know. I want that, too. Just slow down, a little. Be gentle. For now.”  She teased him, scraping a fingernail lightly down his arm. He groaned and squirmed in the seat, shoving the key into the ignition and turning it roughly.

“Lady…”  Jackson heaved a sigh, looked toward the heavens as if he was mentally thankking every higher power that existed, whether he believed in them or not. “You’ve been killing me, all night long. I cannot wait to get you home.” He grabbed her hand and shoved it between his legs, wrapping her fingers around the mass curled up in the front of his jeans. “Don’t you dare move that. Don’t even think about it.”

Et voila.

Song she sang to me
Song she brang to me
Words that rang in me
Rhyme that sprang from me
Warmed the night
And what was right
Became me

You are the sun
I am the moon
You are the words
I am the tune
Play me

Last week, I had some “genius” idea to incorporate a drving game into my next chapter. Mainly because my characters are on a road trip and there’s really no way to make driving interesting. It’s 99% dialog. What do people talk about, on road trips? Stuff. Stupid stuff. And they play car games to pass the time.

If you’ve ever seen the show Whose Line Is It Anyway (American remake of the British version), you’ve seen this game in action. It’s call Song Titles and you basically have to have a conversation ONLY in song titles. It’s HILARIOUS. Both on TV and in my story. I thought it turned out well. And it took up some story real estate. It also provided a point to keep coming back to. Past the actual game, my male main character would shout out song titles where appropriate in later conversations.

This is one of the most amazing things about writing… I’ve never said I’m writing a classic, here. I mean, it’s fan fiction, a glorified celebrity fantasy and so in and of itself not realistic or anything. But it’s my practice, and I really enjoy it. My favorite part of writing is when I am type type typing away and something just… happens. It’s like my fingers know the story and I am just watching it play out.

At some point in my recount of a day in San Antonio, I decided my male MC needed sunglasses. He’s a cheapskate’s cheapskate, though. A bit of a miser in that he doesn’t really spend money unnecessarily. He wants the shades. They’re great shades. Female MC wants him to get them, to treat himself. He won’t do it. She buys them for him and gives them to him, rather casually and unceremoniously- such is the nature of their relationship.  He looks down at them, and…. this comes out of nowhere, from my fingers to the page, asks,

“Guess what song I’m thinking of right now?”

I rolled by eyes and turned on my heel, headed toward the food vendors. “No.”

“Come on,” he whined, following me. “It was your game. Your idea. Guess.”

“I already know, cheese ball.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it!”

I  turned around, pulled the shades off of his face and hung them back on his shirt. “Sunglasses at Night. And I’m never playing games with you ever again.”

I didn’t plan that. It just happened. I love that, when the story writes itself.

Ahh. Amazing.

I’ve got to get to work on Ch 44. The home stretch. Not the last chapter, but the last roadtrip chapter. It’s been such a fun journey. Then I have to plan “Christmas”…. believe it or not, we’re still climbing to the climax. Gonna be INTERESTING. And I have an emotional, sweet, passionate ending in mind. Can’t wait!

Till then… pen in hand,

I’m having an issue with another story in that I am horribly stuck but I want to finish the story so badly. I’m unable to go back and figure out what’s not working, though. It’s just…boring and I can’t figure out how to extend it or rewrite it or… SIGH. It’s been sitting for quite some time. It’s actually my 2009 NaNo piece. I’d sure love to call that thing done before NaNo 2010 starts. :|

Gee.. I gotta make everything so hard.

I am thinking of revamping Calm Waves and Smooth Moon. Giving it a new title and a little more story and submitting it to a short story archive. Have to check to see if it has to have not appeared elsewhere first, since I put everything in my personal archive.

After that, I’ll get some prompts and get to writing something new as well as plan out the next chapter of All I Wanna Do… I also want to have something submitted to The Glimmer Train by the end of March. I could aim for the end of February but that’s not a lot of time to produce a quality piece.

Going to do it. HAVE to.

Pen in Hand,

What slows me down, sometimes, is resarch. Research is King and I like to do a lot of it. This chapter found our main characters driving through Tennessee, from Kingsport through Gatlinburg/ Pigeon Forge. Among other storylines, they take a trip to the Pigeon Forge Elvis Museum. And, wow. Just watching the video alone at elvismuseums.com gave me ideas for how to incorporate some fun into the story. Funny thing is that one of my reviews mentioned that they’d been to that very museum. I love when art imitates life… or whatever that saying is.

From there they drove on to New Orleans, destination French Quarter. I’ve never been to N.O. but I’m dying to go someday. If I do, I must stay at the Maison Dupuy Luxury Hotel, just based on the pictures. I love hotels! The most fun in writing this story has been picking out the destinations and trying to weave a description into the story line.

Hoping to get started on a new chapter this week… I don’t want to take a lot of down time and get out of rhythm. Have been doing a lot of blogging and reading of blogs, gathering inspirations here and there. I need some literary inspiration, though, so I’m hoping to get back to my lunch time reading habit this week.

Speaking of inspiration, I am going to be following along on WriteMeg’s Two Girls Read Shakespeare. I’m ashamed to say, as a writer, that I’ve never read much Shakespeare. Amazingly, it wasn’t required in my English classes, even the College Prep ones, and past Romeo and Juliet, I never read any. I studied Communication at University– had I stuck with English as a major I likely would have read my share. So, now I’ve got to make up for it and I’m looking forward to being analytical and discussing literature. Almost makes me want to go back to school.

Almost.

Pen in Hand,

YAY! Now I’m off to stare at my manuscript and pray for divine intervention, or maybe one of those text-to-speech programs.

SIGH.

I know what I’ll be doing over the Thanksgiving break.

I’m still working through the major story lines— I like to just dive in and let the details set themselves up and work themselves out. Every few chapters or 5,000 words or so, I do some fact checking and make sure certain details stay true, then plan out a little further, then write some more and plan out a little further. It’s going well, so far. I feel like when I plan out the entire thing, I lose my zest for the story and I feel like I’ve written it already. That’s no fun.

So far? World building and story writing and writing something new in  a big damn hurry is a lot of fun. Everyday I post my word count over at the Nanowrimo site and I feel really proud of myself, and I’m so in love with the story. It’s been such a nice break from the story I’ve been writing for uhmmmmmm almost a year. Wow. Need that one to end, and soon.

But now, Mama is tired, and have already put away the piece for the night. I’m off to sleep, perchance to dream, while visions of plotlines and realistic, believable dialogue and story arcs and stylebooks and well rounded characters dance in my head!

So, when I said I was going to attempt a new project, a lot of people said ‘oh, the first chapter is the hardest! Get that out of the way and you’ll be good to go!’

To those people I’d like to say— No.

Because for me, the start is always the easiest and most exciting. It’s where I feel like I am finally accomplishing things and getting these ideas swirling around in my head out and on “paper”. I’m excited and I’m purposeful and I’m typing and fingers are flying and I’m DOING IIIIITTTTTTT!

But then I get to the end of Chapter 1 and think… well. Now what? Because this is where I am. And here is where a little bit of fear creeps in because I realize that I know what I want this story to be about but I don’t have a freaking clue what happens in it. Odd, huh? And then I think ‘what kind of a writer has no clue what happens in their story?’

And there’s where I have to stop myself and focus on something else.

So I figured out that I need to find out what actually happens in this story– what are the little valleys between the peaks of major action? I consulted my favorite reference– Al Gore’s internet– and came upon some tips on creating the story arc, which I hope will help me plot out the pieces. The following is from. Writing a Novel by Nigel Watts (by way of dailywritingtips.com):

How to Structure A Story: The Eight-Point Arc

Stasis

This is the “every day life” in which the story is set. Think of Cinderella sweeping the ashes, Jack (of Beanstalk fame) living in poverty with his mum and a cow, or Harry Potter living with the Dursley’s.

Trigger

Something beyond the control of the protagonist (hero/heroine) is the trigger which sparks off the story. A fairy godmother appears, someone pays in magic beans not gold, a mysterious letter arrives … you get the picture.

The quest

The trigger results in a quest – an unpleasant trigger (e.g. a protagonist losing his job) might involve a quest to return to the status quo; a pleasant trigger (e.g. finding a treasure map) means a quest to maintain or increase the new pleasant state.

Surprise

This stage involves not one but several elements, and takes up most of the middle part of the story. “Surprise” includes pleasant events, but more often means obstacles, complications, conflict and trouble for the protagonist.

Watts emphasizes that surprises shouldn’t be too random or too predictable – they need to be unexpected, but plausible. The reader has to think “I should have seen that coming!”

Critical choice

At some stage, your protagonist needs to make a crucial decision; a critical choice. This is often when we find out exactly who a character is, as real personalities are revealed at moments of high stress. Watts stresses that this has to be a decision by the character to take a particular path – not just something that happens by chance.

In many classic stories, the “critical choice” involves choosing between a good, but hard, path and a bad, but easy, one.

In tragedies, the unhappy ending often stems from a character making the wrong choice at this point – Romeo poisoning himself on seeing Juliet supposedly dead, for example.

Climax

The critical choice(s) made by your protagonist need to result in the climax, the highest peak of tension, in your story.

For some stories, this could be the firing squad levelling their guns to shoot, a battle commencing, a high-speed chase or something equally dramatic. In other stories, the climax could be a huge argument between a husband and wife, or a playground fight between children, or Cinderella and the Ugly Sisters trying on the glass slipper.

Reversal

The reversal should be the consequence of the critical choice and the climax, and it should change the status of the characters – especially your protagonist. For example, a downtrodden wife might leave her husband after a row; a bullied child might stand up for a fellow victim and realise that the bully no longer has any power over him; Cinderella might be recognised by the prince.

Your story reversals should be inevitable and probable. Nothing should happen for no reason, changes in status should not fall out of the sky. The story should unfold as life unfolds: relentlessly, implacably, and plausibly.

Resolution

The resolution is a return to a fresh stasis – one where the characters should be changed, wiser and enlightened, but where the story being told is complete.

(You can always start off a new story, a sequel, with another trigger…)

You can buy Writing a Novel from Amazon.com — I plan to. I guess I need more…*gulp*… help.

I’m off to Arc. Story arc that is.

This has been a long time coming– really long, almost a year. For about a year I have been writing drabbles and exercises and snips and shorts and fanfiction, in preparation for writing something completely original, out of my brain. On the one hand, I’m excited, really excited because this is a new step for me. On the other hand, I’m scared out of my mind.

For really no reason.  It’s just scary to me for some reason.

I’ve had this idea rolling around in my head for months, now. I started doing some research on it a few months ago and I have a long way to go but I’ve at least started the project (I feel better calling it a project than a book because if I call it a book then I hyperventilate and then tell myself I’m ridiculous for thinking I could write a book that anyone wants to read) and I’m just going to keep pushing forward. No matter how stupid or kind of YA or juvenile I think my storyline might be (because it’s kind of leaning toward YA, which wasn’t really my goal, but… it will grow up pretty quickly, in the coming chapters, which I hope will rescue it from the YA genre. But I guess, if it ends there, it ends there. At least I wrote it), I’m going to keep on trucking.

I think I have a very rough chapter 1. Could add more but I’m going to leave it, for now but I’m happy with the foundation I’ve begun to set.

I’m also using yWriter for the first time and I have to say that for a new project, the setup takes a LOT of time and a lot of thinking, but it’s been really good for me, for this project. It helps me think in terms of scene and sequence, action and reaction and not entire chapters or entire storylines or entire themes. It’s like that adage that you can’t eat an entire apple in one bite. You eat it one bite at a time or one slice at a time.  yWriter helps me slice the apple up into manageable pieces. And alleviates stress.  A little.

So, hopefully this blog will be a living testament to what it’s like to write a long form piece.  Have you written a novel? Did you write about writing it? I’d love to be a voyeur and read all about it. You know, just to make sure I’m not crazy. Ha. Not really. Yes, really.

Well, world building is hard work and this writer is tired so, off to bed I go!

Cheerio!