Very interesting…

I won’t finish the title with my favorite ending (you know, from Rowan & Martin’s Laugh In? Where the little guy with the German accent says Very interesting, but stupid? Yup. it’s a link, especially for you youngies who don’t know what Laugh In is… or was)

Sorry. I am way off course…

Okay, so I’m in this facebook group called “Pat’s first kindle”. It’s filled with some heavy hitters – best seller Kindle folks who write, of all things, “how to” books. One fine fellow posted a link that looked at the way people read today vs a bazillion years ago (sorry, I don’t keep accurate numbers or names in my head. Thus, the exaggeration and ambiguous “they” references). The post looked at how people read electronic devices – iphones, tablets and such and found that when on such devices, they are skimming for information. How many times have you been on facebook and scrolled? How many times do you actually open a link and finish a blog post?

Then they looked at how people approach paper books and found people generally read “deeper”. When was the last time you skimmed through a really, really good book? Don’t we all love those ones that capture and hold us? Ones where we actually get lost in the story?

I cherish but a handful of books. Sad there aren’t more, but I’m a picky reader and I can’t seem to shut off that pesky inner editor.

BUT, I do find I’m more forgiving of a traditionally printed book than of e-books. I always wondered why so few e-books truly draw me in. My kindle is full of partially sampled and completely unfinished stories. Most are on par with what I’d find at a bookstore, so does this finally explain my inexplicable reluctance to dive in and get lost in an electronic story?

Seems to make sense. I’m a writer. I stare at a computer, endlessly tweaking and killing adverbs. Adjusting fragments. Or the passive tense that stalks my writing I’m taking out. So, when I see errors on a screen, I just want to scream!

What about you? Do you read e-books (fiction in particular) the same way you read printed books?

 

 

a snippet from NaNoville…

So, I’ve been working on a ya contemporary called “Drift” for NaNo. Have to say, I think it’s coming along just dandy. Since I have no tips to share and my brain is awash in all things NaNo, I thought I’d share the first couple paragraphs of my WIP.

****DISCLAIMER****

This is a NaNo draft, which means ugly phrasing and repetitive words, spelling errors and missing punctuation. Reader be advised.

(Okay. I hope it’s not THAT bad).

*************

Chapter 1

When your entire life’s a lie, you need one constant that’s true, even if it’s just your name.

           

I hate hating my life.

I flip open my track phone. It reads three am. Something woke me up–maybe it’s just the storm brewing in the west. More likely, it’s my well-honed instinct that I’m about to relive my worst nightmare.

I shove my blankets aside and stare out the open window at fields of wheat swaying beneath the onslaught of a hot, stormy breeze. Lightning flickers in the distance. I count to five before the first roll of thunder rumbles across the plain.

I know I can find freedom that field. I can run and never stop and no one will ever find me. But there are shadows that can hide a man and my momentary sense of freedom disappears. He could be out there. Any one of those hulking forms could be the flesh and bones of a predator who, in an alternate existence, I would call dad.

Our Cadillac backs into the driveway. The car door slams. Mom’s keys jingle as she unlocks the deadbolt of the front door and the next roll of thunder drowns out her words. Now I know it’s the instinct that’s kicked me awake. She’s come home from her night shift at the hospital early, which can only mean one thing. I roll onto my back, dreading what’s coming.

“True?” She raps on my door. “True, get up. Time to pack.”

I press my eyes with the palms of my sweaty hands. How many times have I been woken by her this way? I’m seventeen. We’ve been on the run since I was an infant, moving every year or two, so that would make fifteen. I wish I could forget that number and all the memories that go along with it.

NaNospeak…

 

 

I may have popped some circuits last week….

 

Howdy yall-
Last week was a bit of a bust for ol Sue (sorry, don’t know why I’m suddenly using a southern accent), but life just pushed itself into my face and refused to be ignored.
My NaNoWrimo word count is low – right now my finish date is December 4th. I might be feeling a bit itchy at that prognosis if I weren’t so in love with this story.
This is one of my favorite characters – plucky, courageous and oh-so-broken.
And so, I may not complete NaNo this year (okay, those who know me know I won’t go down without a fight), but at least I’ll have a draft that feels complete in a way that no other NaNo drafts of mine do.
Sorry for the poorly structured sentences, but that goes along with writing. I call it “NaNospeak,” As in, when I write, I can’t talk. My kids laugh at my mixed and jumbled up words. Need proof? Here’s a sample conversation from just the other day:

“Mom, what’s for dinner,” speaks my youngest daughter.

“Roast potted with side potatoes and salad,” I mumble while furiously pounding on my laptop.

“Roast potted?” She says. “Side potatoes?”

Okay, she knows the drill. I’m writing so I’m talking like an idiot, so I do what I always do– I scramble for the one key word in the sentence.

“Roast!” I scream, proud I remembered the original thread of the conversation.

She leaves the room in a huff and I continue typing beautifully crafted narrative, leaving my husband to catch the pot roast before it burns.

So, the lesson life here is to never talk with Sue when writing she is.

Cheers!

Sue

A little NaNoWrimo magic…

 

What a week. Oy-vey. Too much life for me to indulge in Nano writing. As of yesterday, I was beginning to feel desperate. I was hankering to get on my keyboard and type, but alas, long days at the office  had sapped my computer energy.

WHAT’S A PERSON TO DO, I ASK YOU!!! WHAT!!!!

This was what I was moaning with my head buried in my hands last night when my sweet teen sitting right next to me says, “Why don’t you use the transcription function on your iphone?”

“Say what?” I say, trying to sound cool and hip, both of which I’m not.

She calmly (okay, she grabbed) my iphone, opened my notes and showed me the little old-fashioned microphone to the left of the space bar (you know, the one you hit and swear and can’t figure out how to shut off or what it does?).

That’s right – it records!!

Being the ever-suspicious old-timer, I gamely pressed the microphone and said “Testing, one two three.”

AND BEHOLD… it typed my words.

Presto! Voila! A little NaNo magic.

She blanched when I screamed mentioned I could use this to dictate my NaNo novel. Probably pictured me wandering around the grocery story, talking into my phone while filling my cart with fifteen bags of cat food (we don’t own a cat).

I laughed calmly assured her  that I would never dream of such a thing…

Would you look at the time? I’ve got to get shopping.

Now. Where’d I put my phone.

Wonderful Writerly Wednesdays…

Most of you know I’m planning on doing Nanowrimo this year. That’s a tall order for a little noodle  like me, but I can’t help it. I love the invisible structure, the almost-achievable goals and the insanity that is all things Nano.

No, I don’t haunt the forums. And writer buddies? I’ve never had one before, so I don’t know how that works. All I know is the act of sitting in a chair with a laptop, an outline and word goal makes for some mad and crazy writing.

Last year was easy. I wrote a historical romance called “The Guardian.” What a blast tormenting those two poor souls! The year before, I wrote a ya fantasy called “Fairless.” Now that was a different beast. I dove in, sans outline, thinking What could go wrong?

What indeed.

Flash forward two years and I’m still plowing through character deficiencies and plot holes. Forget about pacing and structure. And where did I put that Smidgeon? Isn’t he important? So why did he suddenly vanish on page 43?

This year is another ya with fantasy elements. No way I am gonna wing it. This creature’s getting plotted  BEFORE I sit down to write. But where to start?

I’d heard of the book How to Write a Novel Using the Snowflake Method (Advanced Fiction Writing Book 1) by Randy Ingermanson and was curious. I downloaded it  onto my Kindle and dug in. What an awesome book! I’m neither a plotter nor a panster, so this ten step method is perfect for me. I loved creating the outline so organically. My favorite step ? Describing your target audience.

Who is going to read this book and why?

Wanna hear mine? Sure you do, you’ve read this far!

“Lisa” is 17, a Junior in high school. She wishes she could write and do something as crazy as Nano, but she knows she can’t. She tries and gets bored. Let others do the work. She’ll enjoy the read. She wants contemporary adventure. Give her a strong female lead and a swoon-worthy boy. Give them huge obstacles and mostly? Give her a twist she doesn’t expect. Outsmart her. Keep her on her toes.

There. That’s the gist of “Lisa”.

When I  sit down early Saturday morning to begin writing this beast I call “Drift”, my outline handy and two chocolate bars unrwapped and ready to go, you can bet your sweet bippidy I’m going to have Lisa in mind every step of the way.

So, who’s your target person? Care to share?

Cheers to all of you-

Sue

Wattpad Wednesday? Nope, not today.

 

Today, I’m going to talk about stress. As in, do you have too much?

Not me. I’m SuperSue. I can do it all.

Sure I can edit two books, complete 32 illustrations for a picture book, launch an author’s page, prep for Nanowrimo, continue to blog while studying marketing strategies AND maintain a house. My kid needs a ride to school? Gotta pick up groceries? No problem. I can fit that in between meetings and webinars.

Then my back went out and the vertigo came on. Apparently, I’m not SuperSue after all.

So, now I’m adjusting my goals and setting smaller ones. Ones I can easily tackle in a day.

Dishes? Check. No problem.

Two illustrations? Check. Done.

One chapter edited? Nope, no check. Too much. So I try for three pages.

Much better.

One-half hour of market research/author page development.

Check. Check. check.

Gotta simplify and carve time for the important things while still maintaining my health. Let’s face it, I’m not a spring chicken anymore. So, here’s Sue’s life lesson for today: you can do it all. Just in smaller amounts and with extreme prioritizing.

Hopefully with my now stress-free life, I’ll have time to get back on Wattpad and find me some new books to love…

I wish you all the best!

SS (SuperSue)

Matchmaker Monday… but holy mixed up writer, Batman, isn’t it Sunday????

 

You’re right, Robin. Normally Sue sends this post on Monday,

but seeing as this event takes place tomorrow, she thought she’d be all slick and send it to you now.

****************

Okay, that’s enough Batman stuff. Here’s the details:

 

October 20, 5:00 PM PDT (8:00pm, EDT)  Join Chris Baty and Blurb for a 100% free, 100% awesome webinar, full of the latest lessons he’s learned about writing a novel in 30 days—including some new tips from the 2014 edition of No Plot? No Problem! Click here to register.

 

******************

Did I say I was done with the Batman analogy?

I lied.

I’ll leave you with one of my all time favorite quotes from Batman (the 1970;s tv show, not the super creepy newer version…)

“The longer we tarry, the more dire the peril.”

See you at the webinar!

Sue

 

Wattpad Wednesdays, up next… my daughter!

 

(Yes, she designed the cover, too)

 

Wednesdays are wattpad days, so today I’d like to highlight a book that has captured my heart and soul. Small Town Rain, by my daughter, McKenna Bahr.

She is a writer and artist extraordinaire No bias. Really. Here’s an example of her original digital art..

 

Anyways, McKenna has been working on a wonderful ya contemporary romance and posting chapters as she goes.  She has a mad, devoted following. Readers demanding she UPDATE (lingo translation for you oldies: upload new chapters). I’d like to say everyone should read this story, but I do have to include a spoiler alert: there is most definitely swearing involved and this is a LGBTQ (it’s a love story between two boys). But the characters are so real, the heartbreak and tension so vivid it compels you to read on.

Here’s the opening blurb from the book:

“Some people say they’re fine when they’re not. Some people admit they’re not fine but refuse to change. Ever since his father left them when he was young, Cat Williths has only known resentment and distrust. The only thing that kept him grounded was his mother and a guitar called Betsy. But when his mom dies after Cat’s 16th birthday, Cat is pried from his comfortable city life and thrust into a small, rainy town called Bellview to live with his dad and his girlfriend.

Enter Bo. Eighteen but tied to his families restaraunt in Bellview, Bo lives his life under the thumb of vicious bullies but refuses to fight back. He won’t hurt anyone the way he’s been hurt before. Instead, he wears a smile proudly over a broken heart. In order to survive life in Bellview, they must form an unexpected relationship and help each other see the rainbow over the dark clouds that surrounds their lives, and maybe end up with a bond that can’t be broken, even amidst the strongest storms.”

I have McKenna to thank for wattpad. (You didn’t seriously think I’d stumbled upon this awesome site all by myself? If you want to find current, happening social media sites, you ask a teenager.) Why not head over and enjoy? Maybe leave a comment or two. Or, if it’s not your cup of tea, let your teenager know about it.

I’m sure they’re alreday on wattpad.

cheers!

Sue

Matchmaker Monday… short stories and other stuff

 

Well, it’s Monday again. And that means happiness because I get to share with you an awesome link. I must thank my friend, Kassie, over at http://youwhoineverknew.wordpress.com for this wonderful information. She’s an amazing writer and a dear friend.

This one is geared toward poetry and short story contests. The Review Review is a great place to check out some upcoming and ongoing contests.

I’m no poet, but I can appreciate the value of creating short stories. As Kassie and I recently discussed, there’s something so fulfilling to creating and FINISHING a piece– especially when you are in the midst of a huge writing project. It gives you confidence that you can complete something and teaches you the fine art of pacing.

In one of my previous blogs (http://letterstorosa.wordpress.com) I traced my father’s tree and wrote some of my family’s history in the form of creative non-fiction. Rosa was my great-grandmother (pictured above. The young woman to her right is my gram, Mary Blaine). They were French Canadian immigrants who settled in Vermont. I’ll share with you a story from that blog, if you don’t mind.

Ready? Cause, here we go…

 

*************************

 

Dear Rosa,

I saw you, mid-morning on a clear fall day. You were hanging the wash and fretting about chores not done. A quick glance at the sky confirmed what your aching joints were telling you. Blue now, but white mare’s tails promised cold, fall rain.

A snap of a sheet and you continued. Hurry, hurry, the words echoed in your mind, there’s still wood to stack and cover, the garden needs to be put to bed and Mary, dear sweet Mary, needs help with that brood of young children…

A soft breeze rustled the trees and carried the scent of lavender. And so you stopped. Busy hands held the damp sheet close as you took a deep breath. There, mixed with the spice of the lavender was the smell of fall.

What propelled you to stop your chores, drape the wet sheet haphazardly over the line and step away? Did your heart tell you what your body already sensed?

See, Rosa Blaine, see how busy you are today and a fine, hard-working woman you are. Yet, you should know, there are changes coming… the winter time of life approaches. Take this moment, Rosa, to enjoy the colors. Survival is not always enough. One must also find the joy.

And so you grabbed your shawl, tossed it about your shoulders and set off. No word to Henry, your husband, who was splitting wood across the yard. Just following instinct, you walked down Summer Street with a hello to Maude, your sister-in-law, and yes, the children and see how they’ve grown. At the end, you turned right and pushed on to Lovers Lane. The colors would be best there, from the maples trees that lined the dirt road.

A knee began to ache, telling you to slow, but you ignored it and pressed on. One moment, you thought, just one damn moment to be a woman. Not a mother, a grandmother, a wife struggling in rural Vermont. Not a woman who’d watched the ’27 flood wash everything away. Not a mother who’d buried a little boy but four years old…

You sought the rock, the large one on the right side of the road and sat down. Autumn colors swam before your vision. Golden leaves from the beech trees, orange from the yellow birch, but your favorite was the stunning, unnatural red from the maples. Late afternoon sun deepened the green fields and cast long, purple shadows across the cows that grazed so peacefully. More colors to wash your cares away.

And look at you, Rosa, you look ten years younger. Happy almost. No memories of lost children or grinding poverty. Just this moment to sit and see and rest.

I like to think of you that way. Sitting on that rock with sunlight dancing off the leaves above your head. I like to imagine your smile, soft and carefree as you wrap your shawl around your shoulders and breathe in the splendor that is Vermont in autumn.

 

 

A lovely, slow Saturday for Sue…

I had every intention of launching “Free Write Friday” yesterday, but then life caught up with me. Too many plates spinning made my HEAD spin. I’m currently illustrating picture book number two, revising two stories, preparing for NANOWRIMO and creating an author’s website. Did I mention I was busy?

(here’s a sneak peek of book number two…)

So I thought for today, I’d keep it simple and share some fall pics with you. These were taken but a few days ago. Now, with the hellacious wind and oncoming rain, the color’s mostly on the ground. I am preparing, you see, for the gray and the brown and soon, as my dad says, the white.

For now, please enjoy. These colors are but a memory now… so sad. So sad.

 

 

 

This golden birch is one of my favorites. My girls used to run outside and chase the leaves as they fell)

 

This is what it looks like now. 

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I wish for all of you, a peaceful Saturday. May the wind carry inspiration and hope to you.

cheers-

Sue