Monday, October 15, 2012

You Like Me. You Really Like Me.

My Highland Romance has been contracted by Secret Cravings. WooHoo!

The romance is tentively titled The Marriage Alliance.

To all the writers out there and the dreamers, I beg you not to give up, lost hope, degrade or belittle the dream. You are not too old, too poor, not smart enough and all the soul cutting put downs we tell ourself. One quote I remember when I questioned myself.  "The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." 

Believe in them!

So, I may not know your names or faces, however know one truth.

I believe in you and your dream.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Friday Woman

We did and still doing it!
It has been a while since I chose a Friday woman. For my new followers, I pick one woman that inspires me. This week I had a hard time deciding on one. So, I decided that one wasn't enough that i had to pick every single woman that has come before us as well as those who are here now.

Women haven't had the easiest path in life. From being accused as witches, harlots, doxies or golddiggers to queens and ladies--of the proper kind. We have gone from tribal leaders, to gods to chattle, property of man either father or husband, to being incapable of handling our money or excising our right to vote. Us ladies have been though a great deal and accomplished more.

We are now free to work for our pay, own our homes, inherit lands, have one-night stands or have a man put a ring on it.

As a woman, I know the ups and downs of our sex and I take pride in what we have accomplished in our everyday lives and our steel spines that are encased in velvet. One truth I know is that


Monday, July 9, 2012

How I Write...

As a subscriber of Writer magazine, I received the months issue in the mail and one of their features is How Do I Write.

I posed that question to myself. As I thought about the question, I realized my writing routine hasn't been fully developed. The reason for that is a simple one - because my writing is still in development. I write well but not at the level in which I believe I plan to be also my "How" is still maturing.

But so far, this is how I write:
I'm somewhere in between a plotter and a panster. I generally know how the story's main plots especially the end. The opening scene can change from draft to draft. I know my characters from appearance, GMC and to a line of dialogue even to how they interact with other characters. Once that is know, the scenes develop, consuming my mind with details. Then I'm obsessed. Scenes turn into other scenes, I figure out ways to make things worse and sometimes I write out scenes that are just fun (Even if it never is in the draft)

When I'm stuck, I work the scene. Pencil and pad, I go over each characters motivation, their emotion, the setting, how they'll interact with the setting, where the scene has to end, the points needed to be made in the scene, senses, thoughts and anything else that gets writing.

Then my first draft comes, I'm mainly concerned with the plot and getting the story down. There is a great deal of telling, and it's okay to pretty bad. Grammar is not a concern and spelling corrections only happen because the computer does it. But my story is down. Usually I can do a first draft in a six weeks maybe 2 months.

Then I leave it to rest. I have to forget the story. That's the hardest part. My brain is still going over it. then finally I start to forget then its forgotten. And I pick it up again...

This is the hard part, revisions. I focus first on character and emotion. I may add scenes to further develop these two very important techniques. When I write a scene if my character is crying, I want my reader to be tearing up or weeping. I want you love my hero and heroine just as my characters feel it for another. And that is a double-edged sword. I never feel as if the work is good enough but then I feel like the dead horse has been beaten to diced meat.

Then comes the critique, I have a few people that I value their opinion. That is something precious. So of course there are more revisions and more critiques then start the submissions.

That's a post of another color. So how do you write?

Thursday, June 21, 2012

My baby is a 100 something pound lazy Rottweiler.

As a member of RWA, national and the local chapter, I know a few writers. Some are published with their books selling worldwide and others are chugging along to a publication and a few are in between.

And I've heard many authors refer to their works as their babies. Their poor babies that when they cut a scene or a word, they are in pain. Meanwhile, I don't feel that at all as I'll slash a scene with the same easy stroke Jason will chop up those stupid kids that keep on returning to Crystal Lake.

When I'm writing a story though I may love the idea, plot or characters even words. These aren't my babies. No, my only baby I had and lost was my Rottie.
My baby. Oh so cute.

Sometimes, I've wondered does that make me weird or am I realistic. I have no freaking clue.

Don't get my wrong.

When I write a story I feel the first pulls of excitement.  I'm willing to cut open a vein and bleed my heart onto paper. But I want to be realistic about writing and most importantly my writing. I want to know what works and what doesn't. I want to improve my skills, whether its vocabulary, grammar, character and everything else.  Can labeling a WIP really be a baby be a good thing?

This "baby" label can hold you back as well as feed your passion. Though, I tend to treat that much like I do the other advice doled out - write what you love. That topic is for another time. In my opinion, I think that as you revise, you have to figure what you love about the story and be honest with improving it.

So, why do writers say, it's my baby. Is it because of the time put into penning the work? Is because you're taking a risk by putting out your work? Is because of lack of confidence and a need to protect yourself? Or do people really think it is more.

Tell me what you think.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

I Hate Waiting!

Months ago, I got tired of my long hair. I would wash it, condition it, comb it, straighten it. Put it up in a ponytail, take it down, make sure it didn't get wet and all the other things women deal with so they fabulous hair doesn't get messed up.

So after awhile, I got tired of it and chopped it off. I don't mean from lower back (which was my length) to shoulders. No, I went pixie cut short. A mere inch -- inch and a half of hair.
No more straightening. Washing was easy. And I didn't care if my hair got wet, the style aways stayed the same.

Following a pattern, I got tired of the short do.

Now, I'm letting my hair grow out and it's in an in-between nothing looks good hairstyle. Though my hair is growing at an inch per infinity, my impatience has grown a lot faster. Sure I know I can't make it grow longer. I certainly don't want extensions like movie stars.  Truthfully the thought of someone else's hair attached to mine is gross. Anyway, there is no point to this post, I just want to complain.

And I know I'm not the only woman who feels this way. Sometimes, we just have to vent. Do you have anything that you want to vent, bitch or complain about?
Comment away...

Monday, March 5, 2012

Mageela's Rules to Coloring

As a child I had my favorites. I loved strawberries and still do. I couldn't go to the beach without running right into the water. I stuffed my mouth with M &Ms until the candy coated shells melted in my mouth and dripped out the corners.  One another one of my loves was my Crayola crayons.
My Artist Tool and Obsession
For me, they were magic. I had the 64 box with the built-in sharpener in the side. I spent hours coloring, especially since I was a sick child and couldn't play outside a lot of times.  One childhood memory from my Florida days was when for some crazy child idea, I decided that my crayons needed some "color." I placed them on the windowsill in summer Florida light. Hours later, I returned to color and found them a blob of wax and paper. I wept as if they had died. As an adult, I imagined the screamed "I'm melting" in that wicked witch voice.

I loved my crayons. I loved them so much that I had rules when it came to coloring with me.

Rule #1 - you can't press hard.
   I never liked the perfect point rub down into that flat round tip that couldn't get into those little sections of the art.
   At my age, I keep my pencil tip sharp like a rapier and never let it to dull. Yeah, a little crazy (ssshhh, don't tell anyone)

 Rule #2
   Do not sharpen the crayon. I didn't care that a sharpener was built in. It never worked right, getting that point that when it was brand new. The crayon was never the same. As daddy's little girl, I forced my father to purchase me new ones.
   Thankfully, I lost that. Is that age, having to work for my own money or maybe because I no longer color.

   Don't rip the paper off.
   See rule #2. It ruined the crayon. And dad had to get me new ones.

  Don't press hard.
  The perfect point would be ruined. And then dad had to get me new ones.

  Stay in the lines.
 In my life from my name to my dorkiness, I've never been cool and I'm open to new experiences. I love beauty. And there was nothing beautiful about coloring outside the lines. Since it was my coloring box - because I never used anyone's tools but my own - you had to follow my rules.
  I can still be controlling. And I'm NOT changing.

What was your favorite toy from your childhood? Please share.  I can't be the only one confessing...I mean SHARING!

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

New York Magic

Sheep's Meadow in Central Park
 I'm the first person to complain about the city's noise, dirt and crowding. But there is one thing I love about this city. It has a magic about it.  The only way to experience it by stopping.

See you can't be racing here to there, making sure you get to the cleaners or make the train or catching your bus. To feel the magic you must sit somewhere quiet - those places exist besides Central Park - and sit there. Do nothing but let the city spin around you.

I swear you can actually feel a force, your heartbeat matching the city's steady thump. Then the view shifts and you sense the sweet smells you didn't think existed, the brush of the city breeze, the low hum of the city that exist off in the distance. Then you realize sights and details you never noticed before.

For me, it's more than watching the world going around. It feels like a merry-go-round in a snow globe but without the snow.