I have been a bit absent this week. Mostly because I didn’t have much to say and I’m not one to post just for posting’s sake. And, as Sierra Godfrey mentioned in a great post this week, readers don’t really care what your excuses are for not blogging; nor do they care for silly filler posts. I happen to completely agree, so I don’t do them.

It has been a busy month for me though. Over at the Fan Fiction archive, we have been running a month long challenge. Writers sign up for a specific day and on that day, they post a completed story of 1,000 words or more. Once it is posted, it’s my job as Challenge Master (I just made that name up for myself) to publicize the author and their story all day. Everyday. On top of also running a fansite for a music group, my life outside of writing/ reading is pretty active.

And then there’s that. I’ve not done a whole lot of writing, lately. I wrote two stories for the aforementioned challenge. Both got pretty small reactions, but that they got comments at all is great, I suppose. A friend and I were discussing this phenomenon a few weeks ago, where when I posted stories in the past, I got lots of comments and lately I get very few. I started to worry that I lost my touch, my mojo, my writing fu. We discovered, though, that readers seem to like the chase. They like waiting for an update and slowly allowing themselves to identifywith the characters. When I write a story, however, I finish it and then I post it, in case I want to change/clarify something later. I can’t go back and change something I have already posted. And then I dump it on the archive and people read it all in one sitting, in one fell swoop and don’t feel as close to the characters as they would if I had spaced it out.

What it all comes down to is that I am impatient. I want people to read it all right now. I’m not much of a tease. Working on it, though!

I posted a short piece for the Story Fix Peer Review Page and then sent my friends and followers over there to harass and/or comment on the post. It turned out pretty well and I feel like I got some good advice from the writing community. And a few “wow”s, which… I’m not going to lie, felt really great. REALLY great. The piece wasn’t torn apart and I feel like it was a good representation of my writing.

I have been doing a lot of reading. I’m doing the GoodReads Reading Challenge. I committed to reading 50 books this year. I’m at 30 and I am 2 books behind. I’m really tempted to pick some short novellas and finish them to boost my count, but I feel like that would be cheating, so I am doing my best to stay on top of my TBR pile. My hiatus from the written word hurt me a bit but I am rapid and voracious reader. I was five books behind!  In the last month I have read: 

Snowy Night Seduction- Very short. A little bit of paranormal, which I don’t really mind as long as it’s not vampires. I just can’t deal with vampires. And a hot sex scene as well.  2 of 5 stars*

Silver Sparrow- I finished this at the end of July, actually. Was so good, especially part two. I was sad to see it end– didn’t want to say goodbye to Dana and Chaurisse and their secret family.  I wish we got to see more of them. Can’t wait for the next book from Tayari Jones. 4 of 5 stars

The Lies that Bind- Oh my. SUCH a good book. A quick read, great love scenes, lots of action, a true page turner and has what I love love LOVE. A nice twist at the end. Didn’t see it coming. Can’t wait for DL Sparks next book– I’ve pre-ordered it! 4 of 5 stars

The Sugar Queen- Another Sarah Addison Allen book. I just love reading her in between my gripping, heart breaking dramas. Such a nice break with a great story and a little bit of magic. This one was sweet- pat, but sweet.  Pun intended. 3 of 5 stars

What Looks like Crazy on an Ordinary Day- I had never heard of Pearl Cleage before I started reading Tayari Jones. Ms Cleage is one of her favorite authors, so I figured I’d take a look. I’m just getting started on her collection and this was the first. It was not what I expected it to be- a love story between an ex con and a woman who is HIV positive. I really enjoyed the story and the writing. The epilogue was not my cup of tea– it could have been a few more chapters of story, in my opinion. I guess I am just greedy, but don’t sweep over things in your epilogue that only tie your story up in a big red bow.  Just my personal opinion. I think I am reading “I Wish I Had a Red Dress” or “Seen It All..” next.  Not Sure. 4 of 5 stars

The Accident: A Novel - This was one of the best books I have read in a long, long time. I love a story that has twists and turns and multiple stories that all tie in together. This book does that really well, with so many levels of story and story lines you didn’t even think were connected, end up swirling around one another. I’ve already purchased other books Linwood Barclay has written. Can’t wait to dig into them. 4 of 5 stars

The End of Everything: A Novel - This was… interesting. I almost gave up on it, actually. I just couldn’t get into it. Then I hopped onto Goodreads and read some reviews. My left eyebrow went up at hints of what happens later in the story, so I kept reading. Glad I did, but… I hate when I read a book and I still have questions that are not answered. There is so much inference as to what happened. I don’t have a clear understanding of everything because she never really said, ‘this is what happened’. I feel like I read it in a fog. I had a hard time with her writing style as well, but that was just a personal thing. It was hard to muddle through until the story got good. Not one I’ll read over and over, likely. 3 of 5 stars

*A note on my star rating. I rarely, if ever give 5 stars. I have to pretty much fall onto the ground, weeping and wailing and gnashing my teeth because the book is over. 4 stars is a really, really good book for me. 5 stars is perfection. I have given very few 5 star ratings. 

As for writing… I have a story idea. It is fan fiction. It could possibly be written during NaNoWriMo. Not sure, though. It is a psychological thriller. I have some research and story planning to do but I don’t want to talk about it much or I’ll talk myself out of writing it. I haven’t written anything at all on the book I am supposed to be writing. I think about it now and then but I don’t really have a complete story arc and I am not motivated to work on it. It’s going nowhere pretty rapidly. I can’t seem to get a grasp on writing original fiction. I just don’t care about the characters like I care about my fanfic characters and I haven’t found a way to remedy that.

I am off for a day of reading and planning a series of blog posts for next week. Have a wonderful day!

Photo courtesy Melissa Wilkinson | Photobucket.com

Good Wednesday Morning, Fellow Writers! I have an exciting announcement today!

After much nervousness and changing my mind and changing it back and finally just putting my big girl pants on and DOING IT, one of my pieces- Try to Say No- is featured on the Peer Review Page at Story Fix! Yay!

And I already have one comment in which someone does NOT hate it! Even more yay! (It’s pitiful how big my smile was when I saw that first comment.)

If you’ve been following this blog for awhile, you’ve seen the evolution of this piece. I have reworked it since it appeared at Short-Story.net and I feel it is the best it has ever been.  Something about the past tense wasn’t working for me. I changed a bit of the imagery, revised the tense, punched up some scenes and removed some “explanation”. Sometimes it’s better to just let the words stand for themselves and let the reader figure things out. It really is a process, you know?

It is… nerve wracking to have your work posted for public consumption, especially on a site where so many will see it. It is not unlike that nightmare we have where we arrive at school naked and everyone can see our private bits.  Even worse than someone having something bad to say is no one saying anything at all, especially if you are kind of proud of your private bits. A piece generating zero reaction is… well. I mean. A failure. So I am at least hoping for really good or really bad comments.

But seriously, really good comments would be great. I’m also hoping for some constructive criticism on how I could improve it or what doesn’t work.

I want to thank my friend Sarah over at He Loves Me Not, who gave me a swift kick in the pants and made me submit after she was so kind as to review it for me.  I submitted it yesterday and I expected it to be a few days but it is already up and available to read and review. If you have a few extra moments, please pop over and take a read and leave a comment about how terrible awesome it is.

I want to thank everyone who stopped by the blog yesterday to read and comment on my Sunday Six post. I’m finding that I love all of my stories for different reasons and sharing them is fun. However, yesterday marked my last day of participation in the Sunday Six.

I really have to evaluate what I want to get out of each community that I join. I am looking for a camaraderie among writers, an opportunity to share my work and hear people’s thoughts about it and also bring new readers to my stories and to my blog. Part of that is me posting more often about things other than how hard it is to write– we’ve all established that this is not easy.  Part of that is not getting invovlved in things that does not move that goal forward. While I’ve enjoyed sharing my sentences over the last few months, it hasn’t brought me what I thought it would.  Due to the popularity of SundaySix, – the weekly participation list has grown too long for me to get through, to comment on everyone’s sentences like I want them to comment on mine. I’d like to say I just don’t have time, but that isn’t it. I have plenty of time but I don’t have the will. Even with fan fiction, I am not HUGE on reading “everyone’s” work. I read people I resonate with, whose stories speak to me, whose writing I get lost in. I found myself reading a lot of material I didn’t care for, making a comment just to make one, and then moving along like a robot.  If I am not reading and commenting on others’ sentences, I’m not putting mine up. Just not fair or right.

That isn’t to say that I won’t still pick an excerpt and share, because I actually like doing that, even if no one reads it.

Now, on to the future.

I’ve been busily plotting and shaping up New Project. I have a pretty little color coded plot sheet that I’ve been working on. Really just pulling the story together and trying to figure out what I want to say and when and how can I bring this story to my readers. It’s going slowly, but I am not in any kind of hurry.

Next month is another theme month at the fan fiction archive. Generally during Birthday Months of the members of the band, we run a month long writing challenge so at least 4 times a year, writers are coming up with new material to add to the archive. August is nearly upon us and I am committing myself to a story. I feel like I am a little rusty on writing, so I’ve actually planned out this story. I’m really scared at how much of a planner I have become!  I used to be able to sit down and jot something off, really pants it. My story from last year was pantsed, almost completely. This year? I’m a planning fool!

This year’s story will be a sequel to last year’s. It’s the only one of my stories that really, bona fide, needs a sequel. The story is already formulating in my mind and I know it’s a great idea when I already know how it’s going to end. *rubs hands together*

Erm so… now it’s just the whole… writing thing, isn’t it?  Guess I’d better get busy!

Tell me…what are you working on this week? 

Just  quick update on my WIP. I hammered at it some last week and spent a good amount of time pushing the story forward past an important point over the weekend. I sent it to a small group of people to check out and give some feedback and plan to work on it some this week.

I don’t know if it’s the time change or just general fatigue but I’ve been getting home around 5:30 or 6 and I just feel like passing out. Like a lot of writers, it is my “night job” or my hobby. I can’t write all day as I’m at work, so by the time I get home I’ve already had a full day. Then I try to read a little– it gets me in the writing mood, then I settle down to write by 7 or 8pm and I’m already yawning.

This happens at the beginning of the week, and maybe it’s beceause Monday and Tuesday are my hit-the-ground-running days. Wednesday- Friday tends to be less taxing, so I’m not as tired when I get home.

So  I said all that to say that I haven’t worked on my WiP since Monday, but I’m not feeling bad about it because I pounded out some words over the weekend. Last week I was at 18,500 or so words. As of right now I am sure I am over 27K. I wanted to keep this story short. I guess I am just incapable of that. Ha!

The other night on twitter, it must have been last weekend, I wrote about 6K words on a Sunday. Not a huge deal for me as I was on a roll and in the meat of the story. Someone responded that it was ‘amazing’. I added the caveat that I won’t likely keep all 6k, but I write them and count them. In editing, I cut a lot back, rewrite a lot, rephrase and prettify. What started at 6k might only end up 4k.

Six Sentence Sunday

I posted a blurb for Six Sentence Sunday, which was new for me. If you missed it, it’s here. I’ll be doing it again this Sunday, but probably not submitting my link to the official Six Sentence Sunday site quite yet. I enjoyed quite a few of the blurbs that were posted last week and am looking forward to it again this week.

Original Writing

My good friend, author Rebecca Miller and I were talking on Sunday about my latest story. I sort of cringe when I send her something, not because I think she’ll hate it or pan it or be unrealistically negative, but because she pushes  me to write original pieces and original fiction. I keep telling her that I am going to try but after the failure of Caged Bird, I said I wasn’t sure I had an original piece in me. She thought that was ridiculous.

What’s funny, though is that my current story is just barely hanging on to the fanfiction genre… its fingernails are scraping the very edge, as it is. So, I’ve told her (and promised myself) that I would try to start something original in April.

Fingers crossed, ya’ll.

Atlanta Writer’s Club!

I’ll be attending my first Atlanta Writer’s Club meeting this weekend. I’m really looking forward to it and I’m sure I’ll have plenty to talk about once I get back home. The meetings run from 12-4, once a month. There’s always a few guest speakers and some mingling time. I suppose I should perfect some answers to, “so what do you write?’ and “are you published?”

They’re also putting on the Writer’s Conference in May, which I am looking forward to. Next month’s meeting will be exciting… Bernice McFadden will be a guest speaker. I’ll have to get a print copy of Sugar for her to sign!

Alright, wrapping this up so I can get some lunch and maybe do some story planning!

Despite my groaning about doing another fanfic story, another idea crept into my head and I’ve been plugging away at it for a few days. I don’t want to pay too much attention to it, because if I do, it’ll go away. I think it has legs, though. It’s a bit different than I’ve written before, but then again, we all know I hate writing the same story over and over. I have issues with straddling the line between a complex plot and just way too much going on. I am hoping this will be a shortie (and in my world, a shortie is about 20K words. I know).

After that, I have an idea brewing for something original. I’m not as blazing about it as I was a few days ago, though. Mostly because trying to develop the story arc and define my characters has me drawing a blank. I may have just got caught up in a moment and let myself get overly excited about something. Who knows. It’ll come, if it’s coming.

I’ve official put away Caged Bird Singing. I’m about to remove it from my Writers Write page. It just never came together for me and I feel like if I let it go, I can stop trying to go back to it and torturing myself with the fact that I can’t get past chapter 1. I actually was reminded of this project when I read today’s post at Fuel Your Writing:

Don’t Let the ‘B’ Word Ruin Your Writing

Alight with potential, you settle in to write this thing. You eke out a few rough pages, hit ‘save’ and close the project down for the day. In the ensuing weeks, you tell everyone that you’re writing a book. You come to relish your new self-generated identity as an author. Visions of you sitting next to Oprah fuel your days.

There’s only one problem in this new, better version of yourself. After that initial foray into the content of the book, you’ve stopped actually writing the book.

Your fantasy of yourself, once so seductive and energizing, has coiled back on you like a snake let loose from its charmer’s basket. Your dream is now coming back to attack you – as a monstrous, frightful demon.

You avoid writing anything, and soon you also avoid all the people you told you were writing abook. You can’t stand the innocuous question that drives you crazy: “How’s the book coming?”

Convinced that you’re a putty-spined loser, you let the vision of writing the book fade as you settle back into your routine. Who were you to think you could write a book, anyway?

This was me, right after I decided I could write a book.  I was intimidated by the book. And then the book stopped happening and I stopped writing a book. The same thing has happened with MamaSaid. I REALLY want to put something out there, but it is going to take more work than I originally planned and by the way, I WAS WRITING A BOOK!!!!!! Ugh. That one will resurface, I am sure.

So, fellow writers…. what are you working on???

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.

So today I dug out the few thousand words I wrote before I shelved it and have already begun rewriting and reshaping it. I believe I have a good start for my rough draft. I need to put it somewhere so I can stop messing with it and move on to new territory– Chapter 2. Dun dun duuuuuuuunnnnnnn.

I’m doing something I never do on this blog and posting a WIP (Work in Progress). Just ’cause. *shrug*

Title: Tentative Caged Bird Singing
Genre: Fiction, possibly YA
Synopsis: Rachelle is one of eight children, but has never been one to blend in. She’s always been a rebel, doing things her own way, including pushing forward with her dream to sing despite her parents wishes.

Summary: Rachelle Nixon is a superstar: rich, famous, talented, world renowned– in her mind. She has a dream, and that is to sing. She has an obstacle– two of them– and those are her parents. Rachelle feels stuck, trapped by her family and held down by her responsibility to them, caged by her parent’s expectations of her. What she wants most is take the chance of a lifetime and sing her heart out– instead she’s working at a record store and playing mommy to five younger siblings while her parents work to keep the family afloat. When Rachelle’s chance comes, she jumps at it, though the odds are stacked against her. She’s “discovered” by a slick, smooth talking manager with a lot of big names under his belt and high powered connections who claims he can her into pop stardom. Overnight, Rachelle is living the life she’s always wanted to live, believing at first that it’s her dream come true. Slowly– and way too late– Rachelle learns that that the music business isn’t much about music, and no one comes out the way they went in.

Phase: Writing:
Status: Incomplete
Linky: Ch1- CBS

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.

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
Carol Lynch Williams presents a heart pounding, engaging novel about a girl growing up in a Polygamist community, under the watchful eye and controlling thumb of a God-like figure, The Prophet. The Chosen One seems ripped from recent headlines about the infiltration of these communities and rescues of children ordered to marry men more than twice their ages, bear children, and become one of several wives.

Kyra is 13, impressionable and yet keenly aware that the way her family lives isn’t usual or normal or maybe not even right. She dares to do things she is not supposed to do– like read, speak to boys, sneak off and be alone with them under cover of darkness. The story begins with a visit from the most respected and revered man in the community– The Prophet.

The entire family is anticipating good news, especially Kyra’s father. It is not good news when it is decreed that 13 yr old Kyra will marry her 60 year old uncle, and become his seventh wife! Instantly Kyra is rebellious and obstinate. Not only does she not want to marry an old man, she doesn’t even like her uncle. The Prophet, however, has spoken. He says that God had decided who she will marry. She is to obey.

I’ve always been curious about polygamy– and not curious as in ‘I’d like to try it, just once’. Curious as in– what do these young girls tell themselves in order to make it okay for them to do what they’re told to do? To marry men too old for them, lay with them, bear their children, share their husbands with other women and not feel jealousy or anger or neglect? If this life is all you know, are you aware that it’s so very different?

Kyra is aware. And she can’t stand it. She wants no part of it. Added to this dilemma is her weekly sneak to the  bookmobile. Kyra devours the written word of the world outside the gates of the Compound. There is an entire Universe out there, one she knows nothing of, where the girls dress funny, and commit the sin of allowing their bras to show and talking to boys, where the modesty of long dresses and braided hair are frowned upon, even deemed ‘weird’. It becomes painfully obvious to Kyra that there is more to life than living in a trailer on a dirt road, with 19 siblings and three mothers and a father she loves dearly, but who wouldn’t stand up to the Prophet and his brother if his life depended on it. His life does, indeed depend on it. Refusal to marry her uncle Hiram could mean trouble for her entire family.

No, Kyra must fend for herself, and soon. The wedding date draws near.

The final chapter in this book makes it difficult to breathe. I found myself flipping pages as fast as they would go, trying to keep up with Kyra, Patrick (the driver of the bookmobile, who befriends Kyra and offers her a way out), Joshua (the boy she is not allowed to love), and the family.

I didn’t realize until I had finished reading this book that it was a young adult selection. I’m in my 30′s, so either this book was pretty darn good, or I am easily entertained. Or both.:)

The Chosen One is a fast read, but an exciting one, full of twists and ‘secrets’ of life in what is considered outside of the walls of the compound to be a cult– beatings, murders, ex-communications, fear, isolation. But there is also love, and family and hope and dreams– and the risk of losing all of them in search of freedom.

There is a section at the end, where I thought things could have been fleshed out more. It seems to end rather abruptly, with more than a few unanswered questions. Overall, I enjoyed it. Really quick read, great storyline.

View all my reviews.

Our assignment for this lesson was to take a story or a scene and identify the elements of scene and sequel– are they included? Were they used welll?  Could the scene or sequel be beefed with dialogue or action? Does this scene move the plot along?  After identifying the elements, does the scene read better? Like professional writing?

I decided to use one of the prompts that I wrote for a writing exercise last month, and was thinking of developing it into a full fledged story . This scene has two levels, so to speak, so I’ll sketch them both out.

The scene begins with characters Daniel and Sherry having a cigarette outside a bar, in the middle of a tense conversation.

GOAL: Daniel is asking Sherry about the murder of their father, if she was the one who shot him.

CONFLICT: Sherry won’t answer the question, stalls, makes Daniel ask again

DISASTER: Sherry answers, but it appears to have destroyed her emotionally to answer the question.

EMOTION: Daniel begins to feel sorry for Sherry because he’s dredged up a painful memory.

THOUGHT: Daniel realizes that her actions saved his life.

DECISION: The subtext is a quiet undertsanding that no one need to know that it was her that killed him.

ACTION: They leave the bar and get in Daniel’s car.

Level 2:

GOAL: Daniel is trying to get Sherry to admit she shot their father, and not [unnamed character ] who is serving a prison sentence for the murder.

CONFLICT: Sherry won’t answer the question directly or she stalls, making Daniel ask again, more pointedly.

DISASTER: Sherry answers, but the supporting explanation could be grounds for self defense, or even defense of him. .

EMOTION: Daniel begins to feel sorry for Sherry because he’s dragged her into a trap that he can’t get her out of.

THOUGHT: Daniel realizes that her actions saved his life and for a brief moment, shows pity and brotherly understanding.

DECISION: The subtext is that Daniel must move forward with his plan to trap her.

ACTION: Daniel drives Sherry to her house, where the rest of the plan falls into place.

The resulting scene:
[
[GOAL] Daniel watched Sherry light a second cigarette, the tip a glowing red ember against the pitch black of the alley. The sounds of the bar were muffled by the sounds of the busy street, feet away. She was avoiding his concentrated stare, and though he was patient, he wasn’t going to wait all night for an answer.

CONFLICT] “Why you askin’?” She handed him the cigarette and Daniel took it, sucked a long drag on it and handed it back.

“Maybe I just want to know. So Did you?”

DISASTER] “So. Yeah. I shot him, okay?” Sherry turned her head, so he couldn’t see her, couldn’t see the shine of tears coating her eyes or the pallor of pain and hurt and memories erase her vibrant glow. “Anything else you wanna know?”

Daniel stopped himself from asking the question he most wanted to ask, the question on the tip of his tongue and the front of his mind, that possessed his every waking moment. He really wanted to know why. And how. HOW she could have done it. But mostly why, but for some reason he couldn’t ask. The word stopped just short of flying out of his mouth and no matter how he tried to force it out, he looked more constipated than inquisitive, so he’d long since stopped trying to make himself ask.

There was something he did want to know, that would come out, and so he asked it. “Would you do it again?”

At first he thought she didn’t hear him and he was about to repeat himself but then she moved, ever so slightly. Her shoulders, they jerked and her stomach, it lurched and before he realized what was happening he had his arms around her and she sobbed into his neck, soaking the collar of his dress shirt.

“I didn’t want to do it in the first place,” he thought she said, through tears and fierce, violent sobs. “I told him, I told him to stop. He wouldn’t stop. I told him.”

Sherry pulled away, working her way out of Daniel’s grip and faced the wall. He didn’t know if he should reach out and comfort her or leave her be. He opted to leave her be, with one hand on her hip and the other covering her face, residual hiccups riding through her.

[EMOTION] “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.

“What?”

“It wasn’t your fault. He was on you, beatin’ you for something you didn’t do. You were so young; you didn’t even know what was happening. And I don’t know why or when I decided to do it, I just… I just grabbed his gun and pointed. Got him on the first shot.” A dry, raspy chuckle bounced off of the wall and hit Daniel’s ear. “I should be some kind of hit man, or something.”

“Or something.” A few more seconds of silence, and then a quiet, “thank you. Really. You saved my life.”

Sherry turned, then. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks stained with mascara, more of her lipstick on her now discarded cigarette than on her thin lips. “Well then, you owe me,” she said. “Uhm. So, Can I get a lift?”

[THOUGHT] “I suppose,” Daniel answered, nodding toward the street where his car was parked. They walked in silence, a quiet understanding between them. No one had to know what was said there, in the dark alley behind the bar, while sharing a Marlboro Light.

[ACTION] Daniel unlocked the passenger door and tucked her inside the matchbox sized compact car. She wasn’t a large woman, but she barely fit, and had to push the seat back in order to be comfortable. He jogged around to the driver’s side, got in and started the car, the rickety jalopy shuddering to life.

“You’re not gonna say nothin’, right?”

“Naw, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t even know how to explain it.”

“Good. I got a good life now. Don’t want him messing it up from the grave, you know? He deserved that bullet.”

“I guess he did,” said Daniel, taking the on-ramp to the freeway, in the direction of Sherry’s house.

He squirmed in his seat, against the bulge pressing into his back– the battery pack. It was uncomfortable. The tape along his chest was itchy and he couldn’t wait to rip the microphone off.

Just a few more minutes. A few more exits, a few miles of leafy Evergreen trees planted along the lonely two lane highway. A few bland, flickering streetlights on tall, rusty steel poles, and they would arrive at her small, understated suburb on the north end of town. And then a few blocks until she would fall right into the trap. He almost felt sorry for leading her to it, and slowed the car down. Gave her a few more minutes of freedom, before he would selfishly trade her life for his own. ]

I hope I did this correctly! Or in the general neighborhood of correct. :\

As far as improvements, it has helped me to see where the scene was weak, and I beefed it up a little. I think the dialog helps the story along as well. it would be really sparse and boring without it, plus I sort of read them with harsh New York, maybe Brooklyn accents so there’s a lot of gesturing and shrugging, etc. I think it reads pretty well!