A Dead Heart

Wow! So it's been a while. Like almost exactly a year from the last time I, or any of us for that matter, posted on here. Well, we're going to change that. Again. And this time it will stick. We hope. ;)

So, I'm not really supposed to post this story yet because the person I wrote it for hasn't even read it yet. But...I just can't help myself. My twin sister had this super cool dream that I just couldn't stop thinking about after she told it to me. So, for her Christmas present, yep I'm that late delivering, I decided to write a short story about her dream. Happy reading!

The party was already in full swing when I finally forced myself to leave the shelter of my room and brave the crowd that would swarm me the moment I made my appearance. I got lucky on my way down and made it to the entry way of the large ballroom without being noticed. Taking advantage of the momentary solitude, I stood half hidden behind a large plant, surveying the scene before me without interruption.

Extravagance and luxury met my eyes and I felt my stomach churn at the sight of so many wasted resources that were needed elsewhere in our lands. Women were dressed in their finest gowns, not a hair out of place and best manners on display, while the men, dressed equally as elegant, had no such concerns for their manners and many a boisterous laugh could be heard throughout the room.

I spotted several people that I longed never to see again, let alone on this night, and I almost turned back to my quarters. Leaning my head against the cool stone, I closed my eyes against the fresh wave of tears that came at seeing everyone so happy and free when I felt so trapped and broken.

Why did we have to do this every year? We won a war five years ago; couldn’t we just build a museum or a monument to remember that fateful day? Why did we have to broadcast the final battle?

As if living through it wasn’t bad enough, I had to watch the painful events unfold, all my sins of that day laid bare for the world to see. Every. Single. Year. It was too much. This night was too much.

A hand on my arm startled me from my thoughts. Years of training kicked into action as I assessed my threat, my entire body tense and ready to attack.

“Are you hiding, Lady Stonewell?” came the warm voice that belonged to the hand on my arm. I forced myself to relax and returned her smile with as genuine one as I could. It wasn’t much.

“Countess Barlow, how nice to see you again. I’m not hiding, more like…contemplating,” I replied, shaking my head at my own idiocy. She laughed loudly, and I resisted the urge to shush her, so she wouldn’t draw attention to me.

“My dear, what do you have to contemplate? The moment you set foot in that room, you’re going to be surrounded by men who want to dance with you, or marry you if you’d pick one, and women that want to dress like you, act like you, be you. What are you waiting for?” she tilled merrily.

For everyone to realize what a fake I am. To wake up from this horrible nightmare and have my best friend still be alive, I thought. To her I said, “Just catching my breath before the excitement of the night begins.”

This time her laugh did draw others to us and I mentally prepared myself for the onslaught of attention I didn’t want or deserve. Every congratulations was a reminder of what I’d lost five years ago and every action I took that day would be retold to me over and over, as if I wasn’t the one who was actually there. All the while I had to pretend to be amused.

 “Lady Stonewell, how lovely you look tonight! Blue is the perfect color to offset your beautiful blonde hair!”

“And your brown eyes! I wish I had brown eyes like yours.”

“Good evening, Lady Stonewell. May I have this dance?”

“May I have the next one?”

“And I the next after that?”

“A toast to Lady Aryia Stonewell, for giving us back our future!”

I plastered the smile I had mastered over the years for exactly this night on my ridged face, as I walked through the sea of people, all waiting for me. My feet itched to take me back to my empty room where I could mourn this day properly instead of being forced to celebrate it. But I was a soldier and no matter how much it broke my heart, I would be their hero again tonight if that’s what they needed.

Taking my partner’s hand for the first dance, I tried to be as charming as everyone thought I was. I smiled and exchanged pleasantries with the man across from me, but I had a hard time pretending to be interested in anything he had to say.

There were balloons and decorations with the numerical sign for five hung all over the pillars and tables. Five years since the final battle that ended our three-year long war. Five years since I lost my best friend and the real reason we won. But there would be no mention of him tonight and it made my chest ache.

Though we celebrated this night every year, this one was different for me. I had this childish fantasy that he was still out there somewhere, alive, and making his way home. But I knew now that wasn’t the case. I knew him better than I knew myself and he would’ve moved heaven and earth to get back to me by now.

I gave myself five years to hope. Five years for him to show up if he were alive. I realized now what a huge mistake that was. I knew it back then, but I couldn’t face the truth. The moment we got separated I felt his connection to me go out. Like a switch being turned off, and for five long years, it’s never once flickered or given the slightest hint of being there.

Why had I just prolonged the devastation that had been waiting for me? I could have been healing for five years and maybe this party would have been a normal celebration of our victory, instead of the crushing weight on my heart that always left me empty and hollow.

“Where are you in that beautiful head of yours?” asked a deep, gravelly voice. I came out of my thoughts to find a different man standing in front of me than the one I was just with. I felt the color rise to my cheeks and tried to remember how I’d let such a thing happen without my notice. I took his outstretched hand and we began to dance with everyone else.

“My apology, sir. This night is always a long one for me and I must’ve been caught up in my memories.”

“No apology is needed, I assure you. I can only imagine what it’s like being forced to remember the night you took out an entire army single-handedly.”

I smiled tightly at his remark as I tried to figure out if that was meant to be a compliment. It almost seemed more like an accusation, but I couldn’t think why this man would be accusing me of anything. I didn’t even know him. As inconspicuously as I could, I took a closer look at my dance partner. I don’t remember ever seeing him before tonight, but that wasn’t entirely unusual, as I didn’t pay a lot of attention to those around me.

He was wearing a black evening jacket with a light grey waist coat underneath and matching black slacks. He was older than me by almost a decade, if I had to guess, but he was still quite striking with his jet-black hair and green eyes. A thick, white scar lined the underside of his jaw on the left, ending just before his chin.

“Forgive me, I didn’t catch your name, Mr…?” I trailed off.

“For being the goddess among men tonight, you sure do ask forgiveness a lot, Lady Stonewell. Do you always carry around so much guilt or is tonight a special occasion?”

His tone was still playful but there was an edge to it that made the hair on my arms stand on end. I stiffened, and he pulled me closer, like he was worried I was going to try and leave.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you—"

“The way they worship you, it’s like you were the only one fighting the war. Well, not everyone has forgotten what else happened that night,” he said, all pretenses gone. “What about the thousands that died trying to defend you before you figured out how to tap into your power? Why are their faces not plastered to the screens, instead of just yours?”

 I felt my stomach drop like a stone and tried, unsuccessfully, to take a full breath. These were all questions I had wondered myself. But having them laid bare before me felt like the greatest slap in the face.

I made to move, but he held me firmly in place, forcing me to face some of my deepest fears. I knew I could probably get away if I tried hard enough, but I didn’t want to cause a scene.

“Why are they left to be forgotten while you’re made into a legend? Do you even think about them anymore? About the people who died? Do you ever think about him?” he asked softly in my ear, sending chills down my back. This time when I pulled away, he let me.

If he wanted to cut to the core of me, he’d done it. I don’t know how he knew about him, most people didn’t, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes as he stood there glaring at me. Accusing me. And he danced with me so he could remind me about him.

I felt my chest heaving with the effort to get my breathing under control. “Yes,” I finally choked out. “Not a day goes by where I don’t think about all the men who were killed, waiting for me. I think about how it could’ve been different, how I would’ve changed things, so they could have lived. So he could have lived, instead of me. And every single night I dream about him coming home, even though I know he’s gone.” I felt the stinging behind my eyes, but it was too late to stop the tears from coming now. “Yes, I think about him.”

                                *Copyright Jayne L. Bowden*

Death Watcher

This month our theme is short stories. I hope you enjoy this impromptu one I wrote titled Death Watcher and please forgive the "rawness" of it. If I had more time to polish it I would, but I'm editing my book and need to focus on that. P.S. this is why I don't write short stories. Pretty sure I'll have to continue this in novel form someday.

I hate old people. I know that sounds heartless, but I do. It has nothing to do with the fact that sometimes they have little to no teeth, say whatever they want because they can get away with it, or have a funny smell to them. It's simply just because they're so close to dying. But if you saw the things I did, you'd hate them too.

I stood outside my house, keys raised to the lock of my car, hand frozen in midair. I was already late for first period, but when I stepped out into the warm morning air of late spring, the chill hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew where it'd be immediately. I've been waiting for it to appear across the street for months now, ever since Mr. Henley had his stroke. I tried not to look at it as I walked quickly to my car, but I fumbled with the keys and felt its eyes on me. I glanced over and there it was, in the form of Mrs. Henley.

Of course, I knew Mr. Henley would have a good one; he's the nicest man on the planet. Still, seeing Mrs. Henley in her blue, flower print dress and white cardigan looking as happy as she did when she was alive, it gave me the creeps. I shook my head and opened the car, jumping in and peeling out of the driveway. I made the fifteen-minute drive in seven minutes and wondered as I sprinted toward the building how long Mrs. Henley would be around before she took him. I hope not too long.

****

"What took you forever to get here?" Jake whispered as I sank into the seat next to him. Our Biology teacher, Miss Jentze, stood facing the white board, already well into her normal desk-snoozing lecture.

"Just a rough morning," I mumbled back. He turned in his chair to look at me and I fiddled with the zipper of my jacket. His deep blue eyes were penetrating as he scrutinized me. It felt strange to have him look me over in a non-romantic way, since that's how I was used to him looking at me. But we were just friends now, I had to remember that.

"You don't look so good, is everything okay?" No.

"Yes."

“Come on, I can tell you’re lying.” He flashed a knowing smile that reminded me he knew me better than anyone at school. “What’s up?”

The desire to tell him what I saw this morning, and more times than I could possibly keep track of, was overwhelming. Ever since I can remember I’ve seen the death creatures and no one, not even my parents knew about it. I tried to explain it to them once, but when they sent me to a psychiatrist who scolding me for making things up to get attention, I stopped trying and kept my secret to myself.

But sitting there, looking into Jake’s kind eyes and feeling the comfort of his easygoing personality, I wanted to tell him. This wasn’t the first time either, but I always seemed to talk myself out of it. I knew the weight from carrying this burden would be much more bearable if I just had someone else to talk about it with.

A deep shiver ran through my body and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. The cold I felt from this morning was still fresh in my mind and I saw Mrs. Henley again, standing on the porch of her house, watching me with her eerily perceptive eyes. How could I explain that to someone without immediately drawing attention to my mental stability?

“Trenton hid my car keys,” I said, lamely blaming my little brother, again, for my tardiness. Jake started to say something else when a shadow fell over my desk.

"If you're going to be late to my class, Raelynn, you could at least make more of an effort to not disrupt it further," Miss Jentze said. My cheeks flamed red and I shot Jake a look of annoyance since he was the one doing most of the talking. But, of course, the star basketball player wouldn’t get in trouble. Coach Jensen would get involved and Miss Jentze, for all her other faults, was smart enough to avoid that.

“Now, since you’re in such a talkative mood, would you mind explaining to the class what the basic function of the Mitochondria is?”

“I have no idea,” I told her as heat crept up the sides of my face.

“I thought not. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to teaching the class about cells. This time without chatter.” She leveled me a glare over her rectangle spectacles and I shrank down in my seat. Could this day get any worse? She turned her back on me and Jake leaned over the isle toward my desk and put his hand on the edge of my seat.

“This isn’t over. I want to know what’s really going on,” he whispered. I tried to push him back to his own desk, but he refused to budge. I noticed more than one girl giving me a dirty look. Jake and I were supposed to be over, but he wasn’t making it very easy for either of us right now.

“Fine,” I hissed at him. “But not till after school.” He smiled like he won a big game or something and leaned back just as Mrs. Jentze turned toward us again. An innocent smile was perfectly in place. Could he be any more obnoxious?

I faced forward and pretended to pay attention, all the while trying to think of a way out of my promise. I had dated Jake for an entire year without giving away my curse and now just because he asked nicely I was supposed to tell him? I don’t think so.

****

“Hey, what are you doing a week from Friday?” Mandi asked as I approached our lockers to change books. I had pretty much all but ran out of first period to avoid any more questions from Jake.

“I’m guessing something with you,” I replied. That was sort of a given considering she was my best friend and we spent every weekend together now that I was single again. Still weird.

“Right you are! And...about ten other girls. We’re having a slumber party!” she squealed as though this news was supposed to make me go into high-pitched fits of giggles and lots of bouncing. Instead I just stared at her.

“Come on, Rae. It will be fun, I promise. We won’t even leave the house this time.” She tugged on my arm as she said this. Something she always did when she really wanted to convince me to do something I always regretted later.

I’ve been to exactly two of Mandi’s slumber parties and both times we were almost charged for trespassing or some other form of “disturbing the peace”. I wasn’t about to agree to another night of law breaking until I knew all the facts.

“Who are the ten other girls?”

“Stephanie, Tyra, Nikki,” she ticked off on her fingers. “The Kensington twins, Jenny…Stacie, Marianne, Holly, and Anna,” she finished and smiled at me as if to say, 'See, none of them are troublemakers.' Which didn’t mean they wouldn’t show up later.

“Alright, I’ll think about it.”

“Yay! This time will be different, you’ll see. Just a normal stay up all night eating junk food and watching movies sleepover.”

I smiled and left for class, wondering if she really meant what she said. Just because she was my best friend didn’t mean I trusted her enough to not get me into trouble. I had to graduate with a clean record and move away to college. Preferably somewhere that didn’t have a high death rate…

The rest of the day was one of the slowest I ever sat through and I practically leapt out of my chair when the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. 

I was halfway to my car when I heard Jake call out my name and remembered I was supposed to be explaining my weird behavior from this morning to him. I swallowed hard and turned to face him. He’d been standing with his basketball friends, but now headed for me in his usual confident stride.

I had to stop myself from smiling like an idiot as he approached me. He wasn’t mine and he wasn’t here to flirt. He was just the type of person that made sure his friends were okay. And that’s what I was. A friend. Was that the second time today I had to remind myself of that?

“What’s up?” I asked, feigning ignorance. He gave me a sharp look.

“You know exactly what’s up, now spit it out. Is McKenna giving you a hard time again?” he asked. I cringed at the reminder of my run-in with the student body president. Tall, with long, dark hair, glacier blue eyes, and a perfect body, she felt like my opposite in so many ways. I was on the shorter side, with blonde hair, brown eyes, and a more athletic body. Not a size zero.

It also hadn’t helped that Jake took her on a date last weekend and she bragged about how far they went, knowing I was on the other side of the locker room. Not that I believed her about what they did on their date, I knew Jake better than that. Still, I had maybe, accidentally, okay on purpose knocked her clothes from the bench to the dirty, wet floor and she kind of freaked out on me.

“No, it’s not McKenna. I just…” Come on think of something.

“I can tell you’re trying to come up with a lie so you may as well stop it right now. Why can’t you tell me what’s going on?” His concern was throwing me off, I mean, he’s the one who broke up with me. I started to turn my head so I could think clearly, when I caught sight of something across the street from the school.

A large man, with muscular, tattooed arms sat on his porch with a drink in one hand and something that resembled a cigarette in his other. His eyes seemed unfocused and distant and I was certain he was heavily impaired. But he wasn’t what caught my attention. It was what stood behind him. The same moment I realized what I was looking at I felt the cold slam into me and knock the air from my lungs.

I’ve only seen the really bad creatures twice in my life, and both times it was at a distance. But it was enough to haunt my nightmares for years after and I knew this time would be so much worse. Standing at least six and a half feet tall, it wore a black hooded cloak, its grey, bumpy skin only showing on the talon-like hands and sunk in face. It had a menacing smile that reveled sharp, wicked teeth and red eyes that glowed like a warning. As if sensing my gaze, it turned to look straight at me, and those dark, evil eyes pierced through my soul.

This man must have done some really awful things in his life, and he was about to die. The only thing waiting for him when he did was that foul, sadistic creature. Even from this far away I could feel the pure evil pouring out of it. I was frozen in place, unable to stop staring at it. I didn't even realize Jake was still there until he shook me by the shoulders, snapping my gaze from the monster.

“Rae, what is going on? Do you know that man? Did he hurt you?” He was full on panicking now and I tried desperately to pull myself together so I could calm him down.

“N-No. I don’t know him. I…I have to go, my parents are waiting for me.” My voice shook and I sounded on the verge of tears, but I couldn’t stay here another minute with that thing watching me. Before I could move though, the man stood up and stumbled to his car. I knew he was too drunk or high or both to get where he was going safely. The creature’s smile widened and it turned to the man in eager anticipation.

I felt my stomach lurch and at the same time wondered if I could make it across the street in time to stop the man from driving away. I knew he most likely wasn’t the best person, but no one deserved that. All my life I watched these creatures coming and going and never once had the urge to stop their "collection". But this was different. That man wasn't just going to die, he would be tortured with fear when he moved on.


Suddenly my world spun and I felt Jake’s strong arms around my waist, catching me just before I collapsed. He lifted my arm over his shoulder and half walked, half carried me to my car. He slipped my keys from my backpack and opened the door, setting me gently inside. Dizzy and nauseous I tried to concentrate. I had to do something.

Click here for Section 2!

*Copyright Jayne L. Bowden*

Find motivation - wherever you can get it

As you may have gleaned from the posts in November, our main theme is "How to improve your writing." The other three Chics have written incredible posts on practicing your craft, using real life experiences to influence your writing, and finding your (and your characters) voice. I'm rounding out the month talking about motivation.

We've all been there: You want to write, your characters keep you up (or wake you up) in the middle of the night showing you awesome scenes that you're desperate to type up. But, oh crap, you've got to get up for work in three hours, so you better not stumble out of bed unless you're pretty much awesome at pretending you're not groggy while at work. So how in the crap can you get writing done when life gets in the way?

Find motivation, wherever you can get it...and I can't stress this enough: At the times it will help you most.

If you can squeeze in 30 minutes of writing time when you get home from work, make sure you do something that will help you get in the mood. Whether its driving home in an eerily quiet car as you think of your characters and picture a scene you've been wanting to write but haven't figured out the details yet; or maybe you want to blast the crap out of your sub-woofers and sing at the top of your lungs to a song that helps you visualize your characters/book. Just do it. That way, when you get home, you're feeling that undeniable pull toward your computer/laptop to put those fingers to the keys.

Here are some things I do to help me get motivated (obviously depending on the story I'm writing at the time):
Listening to music
Listening to an audio book
Reading a book
Watching TV

In my experience, finding the right kind of motivation can be one of the most beneficial things to improving your writing craft. If it helps draw you into your story (whether you're writing or editing it), how can it hurt? In fact, it could enhance you're emotions so much that you actually improve what you've previously written.

Stand Alone vs. Series

What is better: a stand alone novel or a series?  I used to have a strong opinion about one or the other, but now it doesn't matter.  I'll tell you why.  The reasons we love a book are these: we are drawn to the characters and we like the plot.  Those are the basic reasons anyone enjoys a book.  No one says, "I loved the language, but I didn't care about the characters and the plot was unbelievable and boring.  But the way the author wrote it was worth the read..."  It doesn't matter how you tell your story so much as what you have to tell.

So regardless of whether it is a ten book series or an 80,000 word novel, the most important elements of your story are character development and plot.

I already spoke about character development when I posted about character sketches.  Knowing a character's motive and ultimate goal is the first step to great character development.  You then know how that character is going to react, regardless of the situation that occurs.  It also draws the reader to your character because the character is constant and knowable.  A character sketch will be the single greatest tool for you to develop your characters.

As for the plot, that stems from character development.  Once we understand the motives of all the major characters, even the minor characters, we can see how some characters goals will contradict other characters, which gives us plot elements and twists.  Along with Hannah's last post, there is opportunity to weave strategy and twists into the plot.  There are connections to make between characters, plot points, and action sequences.  And that all comes once you know your character.

So instead of including plot, let's just say that character development is the most important thing you can do to write a great story.

At least that's been my experience.  If you've had a different experience, let me know and tell me how it has worked for you.

Killing Your Babies

Don't let the title fool you, we're not talking about killing real babies. Our theme for this month is about making your characters do something or change something that you didn't want to do or change, or killing off a character in order to make the story better. A sacrifice you've had to make for the greater good. While I haven't had to kill off any of my characters (yet) I have definitely had to make some hard cuts in order to improve the flow of the story. One particularly difficult cut was a scene where my main protagonist is spying on the main antagonist and overhears a conversation between him his mom. The reason this scene was hard for me to take out is because I think it really shows the motivation and core of my antagonist and reveals a more luring side to him. But alas, as my story developed I realized that this scene not only gave away too much too soon, it also didn't quite fit in with my new revisions of the story and had to go. I still very much plan on adding it as a deleted scene after I publish my book. Want a sneak peak? You got it! Okay, it's not really a peak, it's the whole thing, but I couldn't decide where to stop it. Enjoy.

I crept a little closer so I could hear what they were saying. Mrs. Thomas’s voice cut through the air and it was obvious she was not happy.

“Why her? Darling, you could have so many other girls and they would all be a much better choice than her.”

“No, mother. I want her and I will have her,” Lucas replied confidently.

“But why? She’s nothing special; she’s not even that pretty. I don’t understand why we can’t just get rid of her.” I felt my heart beating faster. I could only imagine what get rid of her would mean for me. Like I was some dog that bit her hand and now had to be put down. That’s how she saw me. I noticed a sliver of light spilling out by the door and leaned toward it to try and see inside. The only thing I could make out was the form of Mrs. Thomas, sitting in a large chair by the fire. From the way she kept moving her head she was watching Lucas pace the room.

“I’ve already told you, I want her,” Lucas said again. When Mrs. Thomas didn’t reply he said impatiently, “You don’t see the way people look at her as she walks by. Or how she lights up whenever she talks about something she’s passionate about. People are drawn to that light and they listen to her.” I felt myself frowning in the dark where no one could see me. He thought people were drawn to me?

“She can be a very powerful asset if she chooses to be on our side,” he finished.

“Or a very powerful enemy if she chooses not to be,” Mrs. Thomas countered.

There was a moment of silence while they both contemplated this. Mrs. Thomas was the one to break the silence. “And she doesn’t even like you.” At that Lucas sighed. I thought he’d lost the battle, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet.

“Just give me time, mother. She’ll come around and you’ll be glad you decided to let her stay. She can live here so you can keep a close eye on her and I’ll be with her at school. If she steps out of line even once, you can send her back,” Lucas said.

“Sounds like you’ve got this all worked out. You realize how much of a liability she is?” Mrs. Thomas asked.

“I do, but I’m willing to take that chance,” Lucas replied. I was taken back at the utter confidence he had in me of all people. I found myself a little flattered that he was willing to risk so much for me, but I felt bad for him. He was a fool to think I’d cooperate. A fool to think I could just sit by and pretend like everything was real. He would risk a lot and he would lose it. Mrs. Thomas seemed to think the same thing.

“I hope you’re right about her darling. I would hate to see you heartbroken over such an unworthy girl, but I love you too much to not give you what you want. Especially when you’re willing to risk so much for it. She can stay,” Mrs. Thomas said as she got up and walked toward the door leading back to her wing. She paused in the doorway.

“For now,” she added. I couldn’t see Lucas through the crack of the door, but I heard the exhalation of breath. He was relieved. I could have hid when I heard him coming, but I didn’t. He came out the door and stopped short when he saw me standing there. He didn’t look embarrassed or angry like I thought he would be. He simply smiled and bowed slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Then without a word he continued on his way as if he’d never been interrupted. As if he hadn’t caught me listening in on his conversation. He wasn’t disappointed that I heard.
*Copyright Jayne L. Bowden*

NaNo

I found out about something pretty cool a few days ago. November is "National Novel Writing Month."
In honor of this, many authors participate in writing an entire novel during the month of November. I haven't researched the details fully yet (been too busy writing myself), but I loved the concept.

So now, I'm trying to decide if I should participate as well. I figured I'd leave it up to my Guardians since I'm forced to do whatever they want anyway. I am currently writing the 3rd book in their series, and I'm 1/4 of the way done with it. I seriously doubt I'll finish the book in less than 2 weeks (#1: that would be insane, #2: editing takes FOREVER). But, that doesn't mean I could start on the 4th if the Guardians so will it.

Something I found interesting about this NaNo thing is that some of my fellow authors (who have participated before) explained how much better stuff they wrote when they were under this kind of pressure. A huge part of me is seriously curious about how I would do under this kind of pressure, and wonder if it is anything like the pressure you are under when under contract for books.

It might be good practice.

To find out about NaNo, go here: http://www.nanowrimo.org/

Alright... I did it

I decided that I would go for it. I spent a little time yesterday researching editors and found one that I decided was worth a shot. I sent my first five pages to to her so that I can see a sample of her work. Of course, sending this to her immediately made my stomach flip flop and I'm feeling nervous and excited about it. What if she thinks my writing sucks? What if the storyline is boring to her (which I don't have to worry about yet since its just the first five pages--which I happen to like quite a bit)? On the flip side, what if she really likes my work? What if we turn out to be an amazing team? I already have an incredible critique group, and their feedback has been invaluable... which reminds me, I need to send them my second book... But I still can't get over the nervousness that this has created.

That coupled with the fact that I'm still waiting to hear back on the Writers Contest has got me (literally) biting my nails and my lips.

I'm going crazy.

I just can't keep up

I got yet another idea for a series last week, and I'm really tempted to start writing it. For anyone who knows me, you know that this is killing me. Not only do I need to keep writing in my Romance series, but I also have a YA series that I've started. There is another YA series that I started and haven't looked at for a few months now, knowing that I had other projects ahead of it. And now, another YA series.

Sometimes I really wish I could stay at home and focus on writing all the time, then maybe I could keep up with myself. I'm still editing book number two, but I've also started writing this new series.... Ugh, what to do, what to do?

Nervous

I forgot to re-post last weekend and let you all know that I actually completed my goal last weekend. I'm not exactly sure how I accomplished it, but I ended up writing over 5,000 words over the 4th of July 3-Day weekend. So far I've written a little over 1,500 words this weekend, but I'm really trying to keep at it. I'm so close to completing this book that its getting me excited. Not just because I'm nearly done, but because I'm excited to work on my 3rd book.

I mentioned in my last post that the four of us all went to the RWA conference last October, and that my goal is to be already writing my 3rd book by the time it rolls around this year. Well, I just found out that the deadline for the writer's contest is a short 5 days away. The winners are announced during the RWA Conference, so I'm considering submitted my 1st book... or maybe my 2nd... or possibly both! The thought of it makes me nervous, since it will be reviewed by some professionals; but really, that could be a good thing. So, now I just need to talk to my husband, review what I want to submit (if I want to submit), and wait and see.

Goals

In my first book, I stopped writing once I reached 80,000 words, thinking that I was done. Well, as it turned out, I was wrong, and I've ended up adding more than 20,000 words since then. In my 2nd book (which is a part of the same series), I've just reached 60,000 words, which means that I'm really close to my original stopping point on the original. My goal for the 4th of July weekend is to get 5,000 words so that I'm that much closer to an end product.

Last year, all four of the Writer Chics went to an RWA Conference in October. My goal then was to have my 1st book completed. This year, I'm switching it up a little. Do I want my 2nd book completed by then? Umm, yeah! But, I want even more. Not only do I want my 2nd book completed, but I want to have started on my 3rd. The only thing I can't decide on is if I want my 3rd book to be the 3rd book in the same series, or if I want to work on one of my YA novels.

Luckily I still  have time to decide. All I know is that I want my 3rd project well on its way before this year's conference.

Lucky Curse

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a multi-tasker. I keep pretty busy at work everyday, but I'm also constantly thinking about my books. Some days, I feel lucky that I can do that; other days, it feels like a curse. Because of this lucky curse, my mind doesn't know how to shut down. Like I said earlier, I keep really busy at work, and even though I'm working on reports or trying to troubleshoot a system issue, my mind constantly plays out the stories that I need to write (or parts I've already written). I have the same problem at night when I'm trying to sleep. I'll lay in bed, close my eyes and try to drift off, but instead scenes will start playing in my head. And sometimes those scenes just keep on going, its like my own personal  movie that I can't type fast enough to keep up. Many scenes are from future books that I haven't even started writing yet, my characters are just getting impatient and want me to get with the program.

And that's not even the worst part!

My Paranormal Romance series is the main one that I'm trying to write - let's face it, they characters in that series are the loudest - but, I have two other series that I started writing months ago. They're both YA, and they only randomly pop into my head. Well, now they're pushing really hard, and I'm afraid that being pushed in three different directions, by oh, so many characters might just make my brain go on strike. Here's to hoping that I don't go crazy. Why aren't there more hours in the day?

Motivation

I think Leesa's last two posts lead to the perfect question for this week:

What motivates you?


As for me, music is the force that drives me. I can hear a song and see an entire scene unfold in my head. So far in my writing career, nothing else has been as strong of a motivational tool as music. I've even created a folder in my iPod for songs that I've found to work the best for me. Try it, it might work for you too! :o)

Have it your way

One of the most appealing concepts of being an author is that I get to work in the way that best suits me. No one is constantly looking over your shoulder, there are no set hours, no employee evaluation reports, no going in to 'the office', no dress codes, or even hygienic suggestions...just freedom to write in the most effective way depending on your personality. Trial and error (really trial and failure) have taught me how I accomplish the most work: early in the morning I can work for hours, in the afternoon and evening, I can only sit for short sessions punctuated by various other activities to keep me alert and focused. Those interruptions are usually food breaks, not very healthy, I know. That means getting up at four or five am and working until noon or one with few breaks is the most effective way for me to write. And now that I've found my groove, I encourage every writer to find how they work best and then, with sweat pants, unbrushed teeth and whatever else helps you hone in and give your characters voice, write.

What We're About

There are four of us that are all writing novels and often times we have the same issues or experiences with the writing process that we come across. I'm sure there are lots of other people out there with the same things and we thought it'd be cool to have somewhere to blog where we can ask questions and have people post, or people can post with questions and we can respond with our own experiences. We are all writing a variety of different genre's and we all have very different writing styles so there will be a wide range of comments and opinions to hopefully help everyone.