Short Is Sweet!

Over the past month and a half, I've written three short stories, submitted two to a monthly contest, and one to a friends blog for the Halloween season. This little writing side trip has been fun, revealing, rewarding, and a palette cleanser.

In September, I entered and won the Darker Times Fiction contest with my horror short, No Lights. I surprised a few folks who weren't aware of the darker side lurking beneath my surface. In October, I entered Pay the Piper, a supernatural piece, and was rewarded with second runner up. Both of these stories will be published in the Darker Times Anthology (date to be announced) and will be available in e-book and paperback. This has me pretty giddy as they will be the first pieces I've had published since a poem, in another anthology, in 2000.

In the spirit of Halloween, I also rallied to a request from a friend to write flash fiction (although mine is over the word count a bit) to post on her blog for the haunting season. I'm going to keep this one under wraps as I may be able to enter it in the November Darker Times contest.

While I hope that I can add more short stories to my repertoire, the next big goal is to get my novel published. That brings me back to why this venture into the dark side has been cleansing. It has made me eager to dive back into the revisions on my book, shown me some things I need to do to make it better, and helped me realize I have a character that needs some TLC.

Stay tuned!

Frustration & Release

I haven't been on here for about a month. This is one of my frustrations. It's completely with myself, because I know that I should make time to blog. I have many of these niggling, nagging, frustrations and I could put them off on other things, people, etc., but there's always going to be a little 'me' in the mix.

I've been job hunting, missing my daughter, worrying about both my kids, cheering my son's promotion efforts from the sidelines, worrying about my parents and sister, trying to write at least a little, finally getting to this blog, etc.

You can't totally get rid of all life's worries, but you can find a release.

I found mine in June of 2010. Well, maybe not found, but set it free. The strange thing is, I had been thinking about a story that was sparked by a song. Thinking about putting it down on paper, but not acting on it. Then . . . I got an invite to a group on MeetUp.com. The Golden Wannabe Writers Group. In retrospect, it came to me at the perfect time. Something I strongly believe in. I attended the first meeting to see what it was about and got hooked. The week before, I had put down the first words of my story. Through the tutelage of Janet Roots and the support of this group, I finished my first manuscript in September of 2011. I am revising it now. Taking it to two different critique groups to help me polish it and working toward publication.

There are those who think this is strange. That it's a passing fancy. That I might be slightly off.

The truth is, I've always lived in my head. I've always been making up stories for myself going as far back as the little, red timeout stool that I sat on--a lot.

It's hard to explain to someone what it's like for me to write. Let me try.

Some people like to watch sports or participate in sports, some like to scrapbook (I do as well) or do other types of art. Others hike, bike, ski, do yoga, work (yes there are some that find this a release), sew, drink, smoke (insert tobacco of choice here), knit, cook, the list could go on and on. My point is, think about what gives you release from your frustrations, think about how it makes you feel.

This is what it's like for me to write. It's exhilarating and yes frustrating in a good way. To create a world that I hope someone else will get caught up in as I did writing it.

And then there's the reward. The excitement I felt when I first saw the anthology my poem, My Heart's Song, was published in, sitting on the shelf at the Tattered Cover Bookstore. The rush of pride at second place in the Creatively Crazy short story contest and having that story read by actors at the Miner's Alley Playhouse in Golden, CO. The giddy elation that I recently had when I learned I won the September 2012 short story contest at Darker Times Fiction with my entry, No Lights, which will be published in their anthology and available on Amazon.com in the next couple of months.

I know this is not something that only happens to me, that there are people in all walks of life experiencing the frustrations and releases that go with life.

What's your greatest frustration and how do you release it?

#iamwriting ~ RG

To Kill, or not To Kill

I have a dilemma.

I know that sometimes "you must kill your darlings." And, I'm not the squeamish sort, but I'm having a really hard time deciding whether or not to do away with one of my characters. The problem is, I find reasons for him to be there. I can also see him "not there," at least not physically in the scenes.

This issue has been rumbling in my head for a couple of weeks now. Why is this so hard?

Help!

I've put this question to a few of my literary friends. It's a mixed bag of answers, mostly the pros and cons are even. It feels a little like a tug-of-war.

Keep him.......no, don't keep him....ugh! That flag in the middle doesn't budge.

I'm going to have to sleep on this one more night. Tomorrow, I have a big decision to make and make it I must. I'm at a point where the rewrite won't be horrendous if I do it now.

Tune in next Tuesday to find out. Did he face the gallows, or get a reprieve?

Hmmm, there's also a lovely butcher knife in my kitchen dr....







Bwahahahahahahahahahah

If at first...try, try again.

Hello,

I'm back.

The heading on this post is something my parents always told us growing up. I'm not sure where the quote is from...actually (after looking it up) The proverb has been traced back to 'Teacher's Manual' (1840) by American educator Thomas H. Palmer and 'The Children of the New Forest' (1847) by English novelist Frederick Maryat (1792-1848). "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

The past month has been full of good news, bad news and all sorts of business.

Prior to my last post, my friend and critique partner's father died. Right after that, my daughter graduated from University of Wyoming with a BFA in Theatre & Dance, Technical Theatre-concentration, Lighting Design. About four days after that, she found out that she was accepted to The Royal Welsh College of Drama & Music, into their MA program for Theatre Design.

Up until recently, I was working two jobs. It was as if I had no time to do anything other than work and sleep. My writing suffered from this as well as life in general. Last Thursday, my temporary contract ran out with one of the jobs. So, I'm down to one job, with a weird schedule, and it's seasonal to boot. I'm looking for something permanent, full-time, because I'm not being supported by my writing yet and one paycheck in the household doesn't cut it.

I attended the memorial and life celebration of John Wright, my friend Lisa's father. Complete with clown noses to remember his love of performing that role. He has a beautiful family that will carry on his legacy.

Last Wednesday, another dear friend, Ava, lost a parent. Her mother gave up her struggle with age and is now singing arias with the angels. We will miss you Lucille 'Loretta' Ruby Curry. You were a class act and a dear lady. I attended her beautiful  memorial and celebration of life. The reception featured a slide show with music from operas and musicals that she performed in, in New York, Denver, and Central City.

Now my life will consist of looking for that permanent job, finding scholarships and grants to help fund my daughter's tuition, getting her ready to leave home to study in the UK, and last, but certainly not least, writing.

Yes, I'm determined to get this first novel revised and ready. To flesh out the other two, whose ideas and scenes are waiting patiently in notebooks to be typed in. Today is the first time I've set down to simply write, in a while. Yea!

I'm also asking for the support of family and friends. I need feedback, I need encouragement, I need support and to know that someone out there wants to read my work. I can't tell you how writing makes me feel. Just know that this is something that makes me really happy. To weave a tale in my head and put it on paper. To have characters take on a life of their own and start telling me where they want to go. To have a manuscript that is complete, although it needs revision, is the biggest high.

Now, to take all the hand edited pages and apply them to the pages in my computer. Also, work on a suggestion from my writing coach that will help with my revisions.

I'm going to write now. You my ask yourself, "Isn't that what she's been doing on this blog?" Well, yes, but it's not my book.

Until next time...

The Spirit of Wayward (book teaser)

Last Wednesday, I woke up to my alarm slightly confused and pensive about the dream I'd been awakened from. The scenario was not complete. It ended before I understood what it was about. 

I dreamed about Wayward. This is strange because Wayward is my novel, it's the conceptual plane that Simon gets pulled into and eventually learns to use. It is, in essence, a character on it's own.

The really interesting thing about this movie of my subconscious is that not only was I in Wayward, but I could hear Simon's voice (the same one that tells me to get it gear and do revisions). I was in an area of Wayward called The Field. It's a place where you can imagine anything you can think of, almost without limit. The only thing I can remember him saying to me is 'look at it, this is your creation.' I think he told me other things, but I can only recall that.

While I scanned the area, The Field appeared as I envisioned it in my book, but when I turned around what I saw was dense rainforest. At this point I was joined by my Aunt Genevieve. She lives in Washington State a place that I have a particular fondness for. She did not say anything. We stood there in silence and then she put her arm around my shoulders and hugged me to her. That's when the alarm went off. I didn't know why she was there. Only that it was peaceful. 

Aunt Gen had recently suffered a stroke, which was complicated by pneumonia. She has been in hospice care for a few weeks now. I learned later in the day that she had slipped into a comatose state. She woke up a couple of days ago and is still weak, but doing better.

I have to wonder, in that rift between life and death, had she visited me? It's a premise in Wayward, the connection of subconscious minds. It segues nicely into the book teaser that I've chosen. I would not have picked this passage had it not been for the dream. So, first a little intro.

Simon has been pulled back into Wayward by his friend Eli Cusack. In this chapter, Simon discovers that he's already able to use Wayward and finds Eli willing to answer some of his questions. Eli's wife, Celeste, has been dead for twelve years, but he's indicated to Simon that she visits him in Wayward. This excerpt introduces us to Eli's character arc. I hope you enjoy it.

RG

After several minutes Eli gets up, stretches, and comes to stand beside me. The pole magically disappears as he gets closer. He sets the beer bottle down. “Pick it up.”

It disappears when I try to grab it. I take my hand away and it reappears.

Eli smiles, “I can see your projections, you can see mine, but we can only interact with our own. However, if you had a straw you could put it in my bottle, but--”

“If I tried to drink it, I’d be sucking air.”

“Exactly.”

“So, projections are physical to a point--manifestations are not.”

“You’re beginning to get this. You’ll figure out all the rules in no time.”

“You say Celeste comes here. Is she a manifestation?”

“Oh, no, she’s real. The dead can visit Wayward. There are rules around that as well. We can’t touch, but we can talk. She, like a manifestation, is not corporeal. She can’t touch anything on this plane.”

“Are you saying she floats, like a ghost?”

He laughs at this, “You could put it that way. She has energy about her that I can feel. It’s as much as I can hope for.” A hint of sadness appears in his eyes, but he recovers quickly.

“Where is she when she’s not here?”

“Our ancestors called it Tir Na Nog, the Land of Youth. The Vikings called it Valhalla, some say limbo, whatever your culture or religion’s name is for it. To pass through to the final destination, the spirit or their loved ones must be ready to let go.”

“Are you keeping her here Eli?”

His face clouds over. “Partly. And part of it is her. We haven’t been able to say our final goodbye.”

 

A Peek into Wayward

Finally! I make good on my word to bring a little tidbit of my novel, Wayward.

It's just a little taste, but hopefully enough to whet the appetite. My protagonist's name is Simon Farrell and he's just been through something weird and unsettling with more to come. 

Go ahead, you know you're just itching to get into Wayward, even if we don't visit this time. Read this snippet and let me know what you think. 

Regards,

Robin

WAYWARD - CHAPTER ONE

I’m going to land hard, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s as if my soul is being sucked back into my body at high velocity. The impact is so abrupt I slam my head into the headboard. A second of blinding white flashes behind my eyes.

“Aw shit,”

I grab my head and wince in pain. My heart hammers in my chest, I gasp for air as though I’ve run a marathon. Sweat drips from my face and runs down my neck.

Just minutes ago, my father chased me out of Cusack’s Shack. Then everything disappeared, went pitch black. A magnetic sensation took over, and I sped through darkness until I could see myself hurtling toward myself. It makes no sense and yet, it does.

Go Ahead--Call Me A Slacker

I haven't been on here for awhile. I have to get more consistent with this blog thing. Part of my absence is that I said in my last post, that I would be including an excerpt from my book, Wayward, in the next post. Trouble is, I can't decide what to post. Do I pick something from my first chapter? Do I pull out something from another chapter? What's just enough to make you want more? Well, you see where my head went with this.

What it really boils down to is me, getting in the way of myself. I just need to kick myself in the posterior and get disciplined to blog at least once a week. Sheesh, what a slacker!

So, this is my apology for being remiss. I'm going to pick out a little tidbit from the novel and post it!

Within two days of this post there will be and excerpt of my book.

See you Friday, February 17th, 2012.
Robin

The voices in my head.

I hear voices. I know what that sounds like...crazy.

The loudest voice in my head is my character Simon. Lately he's been nagging me to get on with revisions of "his story." Yes, he is a little possessive of the novel since it is about him. I won't argue with the fact that he did have something to do with the direction it took.

Lately, Simon is competing with Grace, who is a new character in a new idea for a novel. Unlike Simon though, Grace is content to sit back and wait her turn. She does; however, get a scene in when Simon shuts his mouth.

There are also, Hayden and Blush, characters from a short story that I wrote, which won 2nd place in The Creatively Crazy Writing Competition. They are biding their time until I decide to write a full length story about them. They whisper now and then, never raising their voices, just reminding me that they should get a turn eventually.

By now, several of you are contemplating a call to the nearest asylum. I don't blame you, I might have too if someone told me this a little over a year ago. That was before I started writing my book. Now, if I don't hear from one of them, I worry. I need them to motivate me, but not just my characters, I need my friends, family, and followers to encourage me as well.

I want to see Wayward published, so does Simon. He's very adamant about that. Actually, so is Grace, because the sooner that happens, the sooner her story gets told.

I hope you all get where I'm coming from and understand. My mother told me once that when I was little, and she would put me in time out (usually for my smart mouth), she would hear me telling stories. Making them up where I sat on the little red bench, in the hallway, by myself. So, obviously, I've been hearing voices most of my life. If only I had listened to them sooner.

: ) Robin

Going Up...... (I hope) - "Top floor, Agents, Publishers, Readers!"

I've heard it called a pitch, or a log line, but my favorite phrase is elevator speech. It's the quick version of a self marketing ploy, that can be spewed forth between floors - hopefully - going up.

Now that I've said this, I would like to put my pitch out there for you to read. I will preface it first by telling you that my book is called Wayward (at least until someone tries to talk me into changing it) and it is a paranormal fiction (or speculative genre). I welcome any comments or questions you have, and will answer them, but keep this in mind, if you ask me anything where the answer might be a plot spoiler, you will get the game show buzzer.

Without further ado, here it is:

Simon isn't sure how to tell his disapproving father that he wants to move home to the small mountain town of Farrell Springs. The need to make a decision escalates when he is inadvertently pulled into a conceptual plane called Wayward, where dreams are tested and the dead interact with the living. But, Wayward also holds memories, and after a disastrous family gathering, he returns there to uncover the family secret and decide on the life he truly wants.


Okay, that's it in a nutshell. I hope to hear from you and the next time I post about the book, I might just include an excerpt.

Until next time,
Robin

Here's the windup.....and the pitch!

The world series is going on and it's nearly Halloween, so why not throw a little of both in here. This past Saturday, my critique partner and I went to the Hearts of Denver Romance Writers conference. Neither one of us writes romance, but it was open to any genre and we had the opportunity to pitch to an agent. The idea was that we would give this a shot and see how it went, you know, kinda like being in the bull pen, practicing.

We get there and I find out that I'm the very first pitch of the day - right after the welcome and introductions. Here is where is gets Halloween scary. I think I might have looked like Elsa Lanchester in the Bride of Frankenstein. I'm pitching to an agent from New York, not a local agent, but one from the city of the New York Times Best Seller's list (cue Psycho music).


So during the introductions/question and answer session, we meet the agents. They are normal people. They even seem a little on the nervous side themselves. Okay, maybe this won't be so bad. This line of thinking did nothing for my Tell Tale Heart, which was trying to beat it's way out of my chest. Taking a few deep breaths, squaring my shoulders, and putting on my most determined face, I made my way to the table and introduced myself. After that it was a blur. I actually managed to recite my pitch (log line/elevator speech) from memory (and the crowd roars!) and I answered all the questions he asked without hesitation and satisfactorily. Then when I expected him to say, 'Well, it sounds interesting, but I don't think you're ready.' he takes his business card, flips it over, clicks his pen, and writes on the back, '50 pages and synopsis' (hallelujah!). My critique partner, Lisa, came away with the same results. We are happy and ready to learn about openings and query letters, and even though it was a long day, it was a good one.

The day ended with getting my blog fixed up and some delicious chili prepared by Lisa's daughter. A big thank you to Lisa, Brandi, and family. It was great to meet Lizzie T. Leaf! And thank you Jim McCarthy, for chasing the ghouls away and giving me the chance to tell you about my story. I hope to send those 50 pages soon!

Bwahahahahaha,
Robin