Writing
I couldn't stop laughing!
Tuesday, June24, 2008
I was
browsing through some YouTube videos and came across
this hilarious portrayal of writers and
editors/agents. The worst part about it is that I was
told by an author friend it isn't too far off base
with some agents and/or editors. Tell me it isn't so!
|
Fast Draft/ Revision Hell
Sunday, May04, 2008
I know, I know. I've kept my novel on ice these past
few weeks.
But I have REALLY good excuses! First, I've been searching for a more challenging job, even though the one I have allows me to work from home... yeah, tell me how insane I am to attempt to leave this role, but I do the same thing day in and day out. I don't feel that I'm really making a difference and they monitor your every move online and on the phone. "How come it took you ____ long to chart?" "You aren't logged in to take calls. Why not?" Uh, because I'm a child and need to be micromanaged? I keep trying to talk myself into realizing that every job has its ups and downs, that no job is perfect. I also try to remember that with each job there will be sacrifices and benefits. I'm trying to place a value on working from home and see how it weighs with other aspects of the job.
I have an offer for a job in another division of the same company. It's a promotion in that I'll be a supervisor, great thing to place on a resume. I'll be getting a $5K salary increase, not including the salary increase I had received as a raise last month for my current job, or the bonus I was also awarded. However, I'll now have to work in the office, with opportunities ever so often to work from home for partial or complete shifts.
I ALSO interviewed for a position in a hospital. I won't go into details right now, except to say it's also a supervisory role, away from bedside care, but it's a night shift. Ugh, you might think. However, it's 12 hour shifts, so I'd have 4 days off a week. That's a bonus, yes? As is the SUBSTANTIAL raise I'd receive, making my raise and salary raise for the new job offer look like peanuts. I'd be able to pay off most of my bills very quickly and by the time that particular event occurs, or even before, I might be able to go to day shift... or might prefer the 20% shift differential and stay on nights. Who knows? It's a great organization to work for. I did it before as a travel nurse. I love their mission statement.
So, yes, I've been looking at new jobs. I'm also doing a lot of editing for a book review site, and am reviewing books for both that site and a second. Since I started editing, I don't review for them often unless it's a book I've been waiting for. The other site delegates books to the reviewers. There have been times where, 3 hours later, I'm really wishing I hadn't wasted my very little spare time reading that piece of fluff. I've thought of going on hiatus with that particular organization, simply because I don't have the time I thought I did.
I've been also trying to read. I have so many books in my To Be Read pile that it's almost too much to handle for my poor OCD soul. Seriously, I'm not OCD, but I can imagine I'd probably come close, with my penchant for buying the second book in the series, when I haven't finished the first!
I just received a challenge of sorts from a friend of mine, Nikki Duncan. She is participating in a Fast Draft/Revision Hell for the next two weeks with several other writers and wanted to know if I'd like to join. I think she KNOWS that I need to get off my booty, stop making excuses and just write the damn thing! As you can see on the side bar, I'm 50,000 words into the book. I am hoping to join the challenge with Nikki and friends to get through these edits that I worked on with author Shelley Bradley/Shayla Black and move on to finishing the story.
I think my own Fast Draft will look a little different than others. I have a story board, compliments of a Shelley Bradley class. Holler at me if you'd like to know more. She is actually starting another class tomorrow. I'll get you in touch with her if you want to know how to do one. I have most of the prep work done. It's just a matter of integrating all the new info, see how it's changed the story and then go from there.
So, for the next two weeks, I've prepared. I've cleaned the house and the backyard, stocked up on dog treats, and produce, frozen seafood and veggies. Tonight I'll be cutting up veggies for a few salads and will hit the store one last time for things like eggs, milk, yogurt, etc. for quick meals.
Starting tomorrow, I'll be leaving my emails alone mostly, unless I'm checking them on breaks at work. I'll also be taping House, Grey's Anatomy, etc. Sorry, still gonna watch Moonlight. That addiction can't be helped. If I seem to be distant, well there's a reason. If I fall behind, I won't correspond. If I hit my goal, and am at a stopping place, I'll answer emails, chat, etc.
Wish me luck.
But I have REALLY good excuses! First, I've been searching for a more challenging job, even though the one I have allows me to work from home... yeah, tell me how insane I am to attempt to leave this role, but I do the same thing day in and day out. I don't feel that I'm really making a difference and they monitor your every move online and on the phone. "How come it took you ____ long to chart?" "You aren't logged in to take calls. Why not?" Uh, because I'm a child and need to be micromanaged? I keep trying to talk myself into realizing that every job has its ups and downs, that no job is perfect. I also try to remember that with each job there will be sacrifices and benefits. I'm trying to place a value on working from home and see how it weighs with other aspects of the job.
I have an offer for a job in another division of the same company. It's a promotion in that I'll be a supervisor, great thing to place on a resume. I'll be getting a $5K salary increase, not including the salary increase I had received as a raise last month for my current job, or the bonus I was also awarded. However, I'll now have to work in the office, with opportunities ever so often to work from home for partial or complete shifts.
I ALSO interviewed for a position in a hospital. I won't go into details right now, except to say it's also a supervisory role, away from bedside care, but it's a night shift. Ugh, you might think. However, it's 12 hour shifts, so I'd have 4 days off a week. That's a bonus, yes? As is the SUBSTANTIAL raise I'd receive, making my raise and salary raise for the new job offer look like peanuts. I'd be able to pay off most of my bills very quickly and by the time that particular event occurs, or even before, I might be able to go to day shift... or might prefer the 20% shift differential and stay on nights. Who knows? It's a great organization to work for. I did it before as a travel nurse. I love their mission statement.
So, yes, I've been looking at new jobs. I'm also doing a lot of editing for a book review site, and am reviewing books for both that site and a second. Since I started editing, I don't review for them often unless it's a book I've been waiting for. The other site delegates books to the reviewers. There have been times where, 3 hours later, I'm really wishing I hadn't wasted my very little spare time reading that piece of fluff. I've thought of going on hiatus with that particular organization, simply because I don't have the time I thought I did.
I've been also trying to read. I have so many books in my To Be Read pile that it's almost too much to handle for my poor OCD soul. Seriously, I'm not OCD, but I can imagine I'd probably come close, with my penchant for buying the second book in the series, when I haven't finished the first!
I just received a challenge of sorts from a friend of mine, Nikki Duncan. She is participating in a Fast Draft/Revision Hell for the next two weeks with several other writers and wanted to know if I'd like to join. I think she KNOWS that I need to get off my booty, stop making excuses and just write the damn thing! As you can see on the side bar, I'm 50,000 words into the book. I am hoping to join the challenge with Nikki and friends to get through these edits that I worked on with author Shelley Bradley/Shayla Black and move on to finishing the story.
I think my own Fast Draft will look a little different than others. I have a story board, compliments of a Shelley Bradley class. Holler at me if you'd like to know more. She is actually starting another class tomorrow. I'll get you in touch with her if you want to know how to do one. I have most of the prep work done. It's just a matter of integrating all the new info, see how it's changed the story and then go from there.
So, for the next two weeks, I've prepared. I've cleaned the house and the backyard, stocked up on dog treats, and produce, frozen seafood and veggies. Tonight I'll be cutting up veggies for a few salads and will hit the store one last time for things like eggs, milk, yogurt, etc. for quick meals.
Starting tomorrow, I'll be leaving my emails alone mostly, unless I'm checking them on breaks at work. I'll also be taping House, Grey's Anatomy, etc. Sorry, still gonna watch Moonlight. That addiction can't be helped. If I seem to be distant, well there's a reason. If I fall behind, I won't correspond. If I hit my goal, and am at a stopping place, I'll answer emails, chat, etc.
Wish me luck.
Writer's Digest contest
Saturday, April05, 2008
As I was perusing through the latest edition of
Writer's Digest, I came across the monthly contest.
The directive was to write a short story and to use
the following as inspiration: A character walks into
a kitchen at the end of the day. He finds on the
kitchen table something that isn't supposed to be
there.
Here was my attempt:
As the late afternoon sun was setting, Lester sat atop his tractor, pulling the plow through one more row of field. He’d been working since daybreak, in preparation for the coming season. Stopping, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the sweat from his brow. His stomach rumbled, indicating it was time to quit and head for home.
Just then, the bright red blur of a loud sports car sped past him on the small highway bordering the edge of his farm, thumping bass spilling from within.
Shaking his head, Lester eased the tractor onto the dirt path, raised the plow and slowly rode his tractor home. A simple man, he had no time for frivolities. He was a farmer, a vocation passed on for generations. Sometimes, he’d hire a body to help with the harvesting, but since his father was gone now and his mother was getting on in years, the work rested on his capable shoulders. He’d even opted not to marry, preferring the mistress that was his farm.
As Lester glanced back, a sense of satisfaction pervaded his senses. One of the last few farms around, he refused to sell his land to some fancy-pants investors. Not that they hadn’t tried. They were wily and seductive, but he just wouldn’t budge.
After securing the tractor inside the barn, Lester headed to the house a few yards away. The back door hung slightly ajar. Picking up pace, he rushed to the house.
“Ma?” He called out, stepping inside. Unsettled by the absolute silence within, he peered into the darkening living room. Nothing was out of place, momentarily subduing his growing unease.
Lester turned and strode to the kitchen, eager for dinner. He flipped on an overhead light and walked to the sink, pulling a glass from a nearby cupboard, filling it with cool tap water.
Turning, raising the glass for a drink, he gazed around the kitchen. The stovetop sat empty. The elements were dark in the oven, indicating that nothing baked within.
Puzzled, Lester realized the cleanliness of the countertops and sinks wasn’t uncommon. No, his mother was a fastidious housekeeper. But, considering the time, the kitchen was immaculate when pots should be on the stove bubbling with their contents, the scent of food wafting through the house.
“Ma?” He called out again. No response. He took a step back, his leg brushing the edge of a dining chair. Lester turned.
The table was simply set for the evening meal. On one plate standing perfectly on the handle’s end was a large knife, the blade covered in dark, congealing blood. A sense of doom pervaded his mind and he called out to his mother once more. “Ma!” Again, there was no response.
Looking at the knife, his head tilted sideways, attention fixed on a small, darkened mass at the tip. Bending at the waist, he peered more closely at the knife, identifying a clump of dark gray hair. Ma’s hair.
The water glass slipped from Lester’s fingers, the sound of splintering glass filling the room. His heart galloped. Grasping the edge of the table for support, he sucked in a breath, eyes widening. Straightening, legs wobbly, his mind reeled, still unable to fully comprehend the implications of the bloody knife before him. Who? What?
From somewhere within the house, a door creaked. A slow shuffling, out of place and certainly not his mother’s, crossed the floor at the end of the hall.
Step. Drag. Step. Drag.
What the…?
Hyperventilating, spots danced before his eyes. A fine sheen of cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
The television blared to life.
Lester cried out in surprise, jumping. Impossible! He was just in the living room. It had been decidedly empty.
Trying to shake off the foreboding thoughts and calm his racing heart, he reasoned that there must be a plausible explanation to the sounds and sight before him. Ready to go in search of his mother, he glanced down at the knife once again. Steeling himself, he took a small, shaky step.
The air left his lungs.
Blood drained from his face.
The lightest of breaths blew across his neck.
Lester slowly turned around. Utter terror gripped him. Ruby eyes, amidst the blackest of voids, stared into him. As darkness consumed him, his last panicked thoughts were of his mother’s life and anger that the satanic investors with the expensive suits would take his farm, after all.
Here was my attempt:
As the late afternoon sun was setting, Lester sat atop his tractor, pulling the plow through one more row of field. He’d been working since daybreak, in preparation for the coming season. Stopping, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the sweat from his brow. His stomach rumbled, indicating it was time to quit and head for home.
Just then, the bright red blur of a loud sports car sped past him on the small highway bordering the edge of his farm, thumping bass spilling from within.
Shaking his head, Lester eased the tractor onto the dirt path, raised the plow and slowly rode his tractor home. A simple man, he had no time for frivolities. He was a farmer, a vocation passed on for generations. Sometimes, he’d hire a body to help with the harvesting, but since his father was gone now and his mother was getting on in years, the work rested on his capable shoulders. He’d even opted not to marry, preferring the mistress that was his farm.
As Lester glanced back, a sense of satisfaction pervaded his senses. One of the last few farms around, he refused to sell his land to some fancy-pants investors. Not that they hadn’t tried. They were wily and seductive, but he just wouldn’t budge.
After securing the tractor inside the barn, Lester headed to the house a few yards away. The back door hung slightly ajar. Picking up pace, he rushed to the house.
“Ma?” He called out, stepping inside. Unsettled by the absolute silence within, he peered into the darkening living room. Nothing was out of place, momentarily subduing his growing unease.
Lester turned and strode to the kitchen, eager for dinner. He flipped on an overhead light and walked to the sink, pulling a glass from a nearby cupboard, filling it with cool tap water.
Turning, raising the glass for a drink, he gazed around the kitchen. The stovetop sat empty. The elements were dark in the oven, indicating that nothing baked within.
Puzzled, Lester realized the cleanliness of the countertops and sinks wasn’t uncommon. No, his mother was a fastidious housekeeper. But, considering the time, the kitchen was immaculate when pots should be on the stove bubbling with their contents, the scent of food wafting through the house.
“Ma?” He called out again. No response. He took a step back, his leg brushing the edge of a dining chair. Lester turned.
The table was simply set for the evening meal. On one plate standing perfectly on the handle’s end was a large knife, the blade covered in dark, congealing blood. A sense of doom pervaded his mind and he called out to his mother once more. “Ma!” Again, there was no response.
Looking at the knife, his head tilted sideways, attention fixed on a small, darkened mass at the tip. Bending at the waist, he peered more closely at the knife, identifying a clump of dark gray hair. Ma’s hair.
The water glass slipped from Lester’s fingers, the sound of splintering glass filling the room. His heart galloped. Grasping the edge of the table for support, he sucked in a breath, eyes widening. Straightening, legs wobbly, his mind reeled, still unable to fully comprehend the implications of the bloody knife before him. Who? What?
From somewhere within the house, a door creaked. A slow shuffling, out of place and certainly not his mother’s, crossed the floor at the end of the hall.
Step. Drag. Step. Drag.
What the…?
Hyperventilating, spots danced before his eyes. A fine sheen of cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
The television blared to life.
Lester cried out in surprise, jumping. Impossible! He was just in the living room. It had been decidedly empty.
Trying to shake off the foreboding thoughts and calm his racing heart, he reasoned that there must be a plausible explanation to the sounds and sight before him. Ready to go in search of his mother, he glanced down at the knife once again. Steeling himself, he took a small, shaky step.
The air left his lungs.
Blood drained from his face.
The lightest of breaths blew across his neck.
Lester slowly turned around. Utter terror gripped him. Ruby eyes, amidst the blackest of voids, stared into him. As darkness consumed him, his last panicked thoughts were of his mother’s life and anger that the satanic investors with the expensive suits would take his farm, after all.
Bravella Novella Contest
Saturday, October20, 2007
I know I haven’t written in a long time, but I have
been incredibly busy. I’ve settled in to the new
house and have received some of the equipment I’ll
need to work from home. I can’t wait. I’m tired of
commuting over an hour one way to get to work. Can
you imagine what YOU would do with 10 extra hours in
the day? I’ll be working out more, writing more.
Oh yes, speaking of writing. . . Last month I was ‘persuaded’ to enter the Brava Novella Contest, held by Kensington Brava. The first deadline was September 30th. You could turn in no more than 750 words. Of the approximately 400 entrants, there will be 20 finalists. Those finalists then have to enter the rest of their 30K word novella when the finalists are announced around November 15. Those finalists will have their entries read by Editorial Director Kate Duffy.
I entered ON September 30. So now I’m writing that novella. And this will be the last blog until I’m done. Come to think of it, what am I doing writing THIS one? Must go, will write later. . . .
Oh yes, speaking of writing. . . Last month I was ‘persuaded’ to enter the Brava Novella Contest, held by Kensington Brava. The first deadline was September 30th. You could turn in no more than 750 words. Of the approximately 400 entrants, there will be 20 finalists. Those finalists then have to enter the rest of their 30K word novella when the finalists are announced around November 15. Those finalists will have their entries read by Editorial Director Kate Duffy.
I entered ON September 30. So now I’m writing that novella. And this will be the last blog until I’m done. Come to think of it, what am I doing writing THIS one? Must go, will write later. . . .