In High Spirits

Book Promotions and First Impressions

2012-01-30T06:00:00.000-05:00

It’s probably a little early to start thinking of launchparties and book swag, considering my next book’s not due to come out until2013, but I can’t help myself. I askedmy daughter if one of her talented friends might be interested in doing some artworkfor promotions when the time comes, and immediately her friend Emily H.produced this:

Isn’t it awesome? I’ve spoken to Emily and explained that I’mlooking for something with a simpler design I can use as a logo ont-shirts, buttons, or stationery. But I’d love to use this drawing aswell. Can anyone think of a way to usethis lovely illustration, besides displaying it on my sidebar and (obviously)framing it and hanging it proudly on my wall?

On another topic, Marcy Hatch and I will be doing our FirstImpressions series for February this Wednesday and Friday, but as of thewriting of this post, there’s still an open spot for Monday, February 6. Isthere anyone out there who’d like to share the first page of their WIP and getsome feedback? See the sidebar fordetails!

March will be the anniversary of Marcy and I beginning ourFirst Impressions series, and to celebrate, we’re going to turn the tables andpost the first pages of our own WIPs and let you guys do the critiquing! That still leaves one spot open in March, foranyone who’s interested.

One month almost gone in 2012, folks. Wow!

Gina Review: MIDNIGHT OIL

2012-01-27T06:00:00.000-05:00

Gina is guest posting today with a review of the book I featured on Monday, MIDNIGHT OIL by Marva Dasef. (Gina received this book for review from the author.)

Gina's Review:

MIDNIGHT OIL is about a young witch named Katrinaand her warlock brother Rune on a quest to bring their father to the mainlandsand to find Andy, Katrina’s kidnapped love. On the way, Katrina and her brother get separated, and Katrina is stuckon an island with an unusual inhabitant. Rune is blackmailed by a dying tribeto get the Midnight Oil that will save them. Meanwhile, back where they live, Ilmatar, an air spirit disguised as awitch, finds out that her sister, with whom she shares a long feud, has beenholding Andy captive to draw her there. Kat, Rune, and Ilmatar will all meet up tofind the Midnight Oil, defeat Ilmatar’s sister, and save Andy.

One thing that could be better is a little bit ofrecapping the first book at the beginning because you wouldn’t be able tounderstand what’s happening if you haven’t recently read the first book. Ienjoyed the book’s humor, including one character who speaks only inconsonants! I’d recommend this to people who like an adventure story with alittle magic.

Thanks, Gina for sharing your review of Marva's book (and helping out Mom with a guest post)!

Where Do You Brainstorm?

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-05:00

Before moving on to today's post, I just want to share that Susan Swiderski posted a lovely review for WE HEAR THE DEAD on Monday and graciously included an interview. If you don't follow Susan at I Think; Therefore I Yam -- you should! Check out her Raising the Dead post and follow her!

Writing is done in the head as much as off the page. There’sthe initial idea for the story, the planning of characters and story arc, notto mention working out scenes and plot dilemmas along the way. Where do you do your best brainstorming?

Taking the dog on a walk is usually good for me, and longcar rides are also useful for working out the kinks in the upcoming chapter.(Sometimes I practice dialogue in the shower, where I think nobody can hearme.)

But one of my favorite places to think about writing isHERE, on the chair lift. I know that skiingand writing don’t go together for most people, but the chair lift is an awesomeplace to meditate.

Look at the view, after all. (That’s the bluer than blue Lehigh River in the picture to the left. The trail is called River Shot.) On a weekday whenthe trails are empty, the mountain is eerily quiet – just the gentle creakingof the cables above your head, the whisper of wind in the trees.

(Crowded weekends are not as creatively motivating. There’stoo much of a show going on beneath you: cartwheels, somersaults, peopleooching downhill on their bottoms, and the occasional really good skier whomakes everyone else look like they’ve got three left feet.)

Nobody’s going to interrupt you on the chair lift, unless youget a chatty seat partner. I usually ride alone or with Gabbey – and Gabbey andI are perfectly content with silence. (She’s probably thinking about herwriting, too.)

Did I get some good writing in during my ski vacation lastweek? Well – not on paper, per se – but in my head? Yes, I did!

Now, with any luck, some of it will actually get written this week.

MIDNIGHT OIL and an Interview with Marva Dasef

2012-01-23T06:00:00.000-05:00

I’m interviewing Marva Dasef today, whose MG fantasy,MIDNIGHT OIL, launches this month through Muse It Up Publishing.

Marva, you write inan astounding variety of genres. Tell usabout them – and if you have a favorite, which is it?

I seem to be settling on MG/YA fantasy, although you’recorrect about my wayward genre hopping. I’ve published memoir, mystery, sciencefiction, and bits of romance and horror. I started my serious fiction careerwith short stories. That allowed me to try out a lot before finding the bestfit. And by best fit, I mean two ways. First, that the style feels comfortableand natural to me, and second, publishers are more likely to accept aparticular genre.

Beginning from Talesof a Texas Boy, the nostalgic semi-memoir stories about my father’s boyhoodin West Texas during the Depression, I preferred humor to pathos. Even in myadult scifi, I wanted some Star Wars-like comic relief. Essentially, I can’ttake anything too seriously.

I like my halfway between Tween and YA fantasies. I couldn’twrite a contemporary YA if someone held a gun to my head. I don’t have enoughcontact with modern teens to write with authority. With fantasy, anything goes,so I can make up wild solutions to the problems my characters are facing.Trapped on an invisible island? No problem. Kat can ask a bird to carry amessage. Attacked by a polar bear? No problem. A killer whale can come to therescue. In real situations, a writer is restricted to real solutions. Howboring is that?

You’ve also workedwith a few publishing companies, as well as published on your own. Can you tellus about the ups and downs?

My first two books were put out by a small publisher. Ifound the support severely lacking. Being new to the game, I didn’t know howmuch they were letting me down. I’m not talking about the post-publishingprocess, but when I should have had editing, it wasn’t provided. When the coverwas selected, it didn’t fit the story.

I found that my latest publisher is really great on theproduction side. I got many editing rounds with both a content editor and aline editor. My cover was produced from scratch by great cover artists. Also,MuseItUp authors are like family with lots of help publicizing each others’works, and generally supporting every author’s efforts.

The downside to having a publisher is that the retail pricehas to be higher than a self-published book. I offer most of my self-pubmaterial for 99 cents. The price on my professionally published work is higher,but there are more people who need to be paid.

The market forchildren’s e-books is up and coming. I saw several e-readers come into my 5thgrade classroom after Christmas. How doyou market to catch the young e-book reader’s eye?

I’m trying to take advantage of groups that support YAwriters (and by YA, I include everything from grade school and up) such as theSociety of Childrens Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI). I try to associatewith other YA writers. Much of that is done through the mutual support systemlike this blog tour for Midnight Oil. I will be hosting my hosts as their booksare published, as I have in the past.

Besides your Witchesof Galdorheim series, what else do you have cooking right now?

I am sneakily reworking some of my self-pubbed work andsubmitting it for publication. For example, I have expanded one of mymiddle-eastern fantasies, which started life with the micro-press thatpublished my first two books, and it will be released under a new title by mycurrent publisher, MuseItUp.

Is there anythingyou’d like to tell us about your newest book, Midnight Oil?

How about the promo info? But before that, I want to tell your readers to leave acomment to win a free ebook copy of either Bad Spelling (book 1) or MidnightOil (book 2).

MIDNIGHT OIL - Book 2of the Witches of Galdorheim

Shipwrecked on a legendary island, how can a witch rescueher boyfriend if she can’t even phone home?

Kat discovers that an evil forest spirit has kidnapped herbrand-new boyfriend. She sets out with her brother, Rune, from her Arcticisland home on a mission to rescue the boy. Things go wrong from the start. Katis thrown overboard during a violent storm, while her brother and hisgirlfriend are captured by a mutant island tribe. The mutants hold thegirlfriend hostage, demanding that the teens recover the only thing that canmake the mutants human again–the magical Midnight Oil.

Mustering every bit of her Wiccan magic, Kat rises to thechallenge. She invokes her magical skills, learns to fly an ultralight, meets alegendary sea serpent, rescues her boyfriend, and helps a friendly air spiritwin the battle against her spiteful sibling. On top of it all, she’s able torecover the Midnight Oil and help the hapless mutants in the nick of time.

Book Links:

My websites: http://marvadasef.com/ http://mgddasef.blogspot.com/

MuseItUp Buy Page: http://tinyurl.com/6wswbsf

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006UTL54A

Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdfNTVeMS1s

NOTE: The Midnight Oil trailer is featured on this month’sYou Gotta Read Videos http://yougottareadvideos.blogspot.com/. Voting is open from January 21st-26th, so please vote for #20.

Gone Skiing

2012-01-20T06:00:00.000-05:00

No, really. I am.
See you next week!

Kitchen Destruction

2012-01-18T06:00:00.000-05:00

Last year I posted a story about the DIY Vandals who originally owned our house. These people bought the place half-completed and finished the job themselves with the cheapest (ugliest) materials they could find. They did such a terrible job that they only lived here for 3 years before moving on to another home.

It has taken us years to un-do their home improvements gone awry. Finally, after nine years, we tackled the kitchen. First my husband Bob and my brother-in-law Larry started on the hideous, 7-sided island. Predictably, retired federal officer Larry suggested low order explosives. (He'd already determined several years back that high order explosives were a no-no in household projects.)

However, since the Vandals who built the island thoughtfully made it out of plywood and glue, it pretty much came apart in their hands and was gone in a matter of minutes.

Next, Bob tackled the floor -- a particularly hated item for us. I'm sure you can see the lovely corner flower design in these pictures, but I'm not sure you can appreciate the Pepto Bismol pink without seeing it in person. Not to mention the glue stains. (You thought I was kidding about the glue, didn't you? Nope, that's how the heptagonal island was attached to the floor.)

As I type this, Bob is prying up the tiles in the next room with a crowbar. In the garage, we have cabinets waiting that are made out of real wood. They will comprise our new island, and we've got the tile scheduled to be installed. After that, we'll bring in the granite people to tackle the final ugly thing in our kitchen -- the Vandals' version of a tiled counter top. Yes, it's also Pepto Bismol pink, and yes, they did think grout covered up all mistakes. Look at that lovely patchwork job on the corner!

Right now, Sorcia is lying in the doorway watching the destruction, ears down and whimpering softly. She seems to be saying: "Oh, that's BAD stuff going on in there. I'd get in TROUBLE if I did that."

I promise to post pictures when the whole thing is transformed. But for the next couple weeks, we'll be eating a lot of meals OUT.

The Practice Room

2012-01-16T06:00:00.000-05:00

I’m putting in a plug for The Practice Room today – which isa group writing session set up by Tina Laurel Lee. If you haven’t heard of The Practice Room,you can check it out in detail here. But basically, a team of hosts – Tina Laurel Lee, Marisa Hopkins, Heather Kelly, Jon Arntson, and me – set up a schedule fordedicated writing sessions of one hour (or an hour and a half, if you start atthe check-in time), followed by an online chat for participants.

My usual spot is Monday nights, 8pm EST, with check-instarting at 7:30pm and chat starting at 9pm. There are also plenty of day time slots. The schedule is posted everyweek on Sunday. What I love about TPR is having that dedicated time forwriting. My family knows Monday nights are for TPR, and they don’t bother meduring that time. Often, I’ll “save up” something to write during that time,letting an idea simmer all day so that it can boil over between 7:30 and 9:00that night. Of course, the company isgreat, too. Every week, I get to see howmy companions’ projects have progressed – and I’ve also scored some newcritique partners and beta readers.

If you’re interested in joining us, here’s how it goes.

1. Showup at http://tinalaurellee2.blogspot.com/sometime in the half hour before the scheduled session. Check in by adding a comment to the post andestablishing a goal for the hour. (You can draft new words in your WIP, writesome upcoming blog posts, work on revisions, outline a new project – anything!)

2. Atthe designated time, a post will appear (if you refresh the page) announcing WEARE UNPLUGGED. At this time, close the internet and unplug (or ignore) yourphone. JUST WRITE.

3. Whenthe hour is over, return to The Practice Room and refresh the page. A chat box will appear for everyone to report on their progress and talkabout writing. On your first visit, youwill have to take a moment to register with Chat Roll. Returning visitors need only sign in andstart chatting.

Occasionally, TPR will spill over into video – using Google+Hangouts to hold the writing session “in person.” I really enjoy this, too! And on Thursdays,Amy McBay hosts CritChat, for sharing pages of your manuscript.

Practice makes perfect. We’d love to see you in The PracticeRoom! Maybe I'll see you tonight!

Launch of CRACKED and More ...

2012-01-13T06:00:00.000-05:00

A week ago, I attended the launch party for K.M. Walton's debut novel, CRACKED at the Chester County Book Company. It was so fabulously successful it took me two hours to see Kate herself and have my book signed!

But no worries! Waiting is not a problem when you're in good company, and I was. The first person I ran into was a Twitter friend, Tiffany E, who introduced me to a bunch of other authors -- all local -- who have debut books coming out in 2012! I honestly had no idea there were so many, and two hours waiting in line passed quickly in the company of:

Tiffany Schmidt, author of SEND ME A SIGN (Fall 2012, Walker Books), about a popular cheerleader who decides not to tell her friends she's been diagnosed with leukemia in the hopes of retaining a normal life while she can.

Elisa Ludwig, author of PRETTY CROOKED (March 2012, Harper Collins), a modern day take on Robin Hood, when a girl decides to take from the rich kids at her school and give to the poor.

Eve Marie Mont, author of A BREATH OF EYRE (March 2012, Kensington Books), the first of a planned trilogy about a girl transported into her favorite classic novels, Jane Eyre, The Scarlet Letter, and The Phantom of the Opera.

Lizzie K. Foley, author of REMARKABLE (April 2012, Dial Books), a middle grade novel about Jane, the only un-remarkable person in the entire town of Remarkable, where everybody is a genius ... except her.

If you haven't yet purchased your copy of CRACKED, what are you waiting for? And if you don't know K.M. Walton, then I suggest you introduce yourself on Twitter or some other forum, because she's awesome and an inspiration!

My First Draft is a Mess

2012-01-11T06:00:00.000-05:00

Yes, it is. But I accept that.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past couple yearsof writing, it’s that my first draft is usually a rambling, maze-likemonstrosity. Kind of like the WinchesterMystery House in California.

According to legend, Sarah Winchester, widow of theWinchester gun magnate, was told by a medium she’d be haunted until death byall the victims killed via Winchester guns. The only way to escape the vengeance of these spirits was to build ahouse that would confuse them. Thus, Mrs. Winchester began building a housethat was under constant construction for 38 years.

It had no master floor plan. She directed the builders to make constant changes, resulting in stairsthat lead nowhere, doors that don’t open, and interior windows.

Kind of like my first draft!

I do have an overall plan for my story, but right now thereare extra hallways and rooms I thought I wanted, but may not need. And I foresee requiring some rooms Icurrently can’t access, because I forgot to plan a path to get there.

Some of you might say that’s what I get for being a pantster. And that may be true. However, the one time Itried to outline a draft from beginning to end, I produced a manuscript soone-dimensional and linear it bored me to tears. I had to throw it out andstart over.

I guess my style of writing needs a little CRAZY to reachfull potential. How about you?

Resolutions and Revelations

2012-01-09T06:00:00.000-05:00

Last year, I joined a number of writers in Resolution 2011 –Write Every Day or Pay. For every day Ididn’t write in the year of 2011, I would donate $1 to the charity of mychoice. (I chose Joy2theWorld, an organization that supports women in Ghana.)

Making this resolutionand keeping track of how many days I wrote caused me to make a revelation. I probably spend too much time writing for a person with a full time job in anotherfield. It would be one thing if writingwas my sole career, but doing it on top of teaching sometimes squeezes out everythingelse I should be doing.

To say I’m driven to write is an understatement. When I started to keep track in 2011, itquickly became apparent just how much writing I actually do: drafting newwords, revising and editing old ones, blog posts – and even comments to otherpeople’s blog posts, because I take the time to try and compose somethinginteresting even in a comment. If “great post” is all I have to say, then Iusually don’t bother. And what aboutresponding to the writing of my critique partners? At first I didn’t think beta reading somebodyelse’s manuscript counted as “my writing,” but I teach my fifth grade studentsthat “peer conferencing” is part of the writing process. So, if I’m helping another writer planrevisions and editing that improves their writing, then I am writing; aren’t I?

What I learned is: constant writing can be draining andfrustrating and sometimes self-defeating. Instead of trying to write every day, I should be learning when to takebreaks – get some exercise, spend time with the family, read a book, watch someTV, go to bed a little earlier.

I stopped keeping track of my days somewhere in the middleof 2011 and decided to just match my opening donation to Joy2theWorld -- whichI did today.

And in 2012 – I’m sure I will do A LOT of writing. But hopefully, I’ll also have the sense to knowwhen to step away from it … and breathe.

First Impressions: UNTITLED YA (but it's got a Mothman!)

2012-01-06T06:00:00.000-05:00

The final First Impressions post for the month of Januarycomes with this lovely picture. Yikes! I swear I screeched when I opened thefile!

This untitled YA is Heather Day Gilbert’s NaNo project. It’s not finished, but she says she mightfollow up on it if it seems interesting to people.

CHAPTER 1: INEXORABLE:

Unable to be persuaded by request or entreaty; relentless

I’ve often wondered,where’s the heart of my town? It’s not in the mural wall, alivewith scenes of the Native Americans who first settledhere. It’s not in the charming outdoor amphitheater, snuggled up tothe river, so you can riverboat-gaze at your leisure. It’s not eventhe haunting memorial plaque and inscribed bricks for the victims of the SilverBridge Collapse of 1967. No, the heart of Point Pleasant is smack-dabin the middle of town, and it happens to be a chrome statue of a crouchingalien, eyes glowing red and claws outstretched to grab stray children.

Don’t ask why I grewup with a few issues.

I’ve tried to persuademy parents to move away from Point Pleasant. But both my parentsgrew up here, in Almost-heaven West Virginia. Who’d want to leavethis slice of paradise on earth, they ask?

Well, anyone who’smortally afraid of the Mothman.

Yes, I saidit. The Mothman.

I’m not talking aboutthe kitschy Mothman glaring from Chinese made t-shirts in the Alien Shoppedowntown. I’m not even talking about the afore-mentioned statue,imbued with the power to make kids burst into tears on sight.

I’m talking aboutsomething my preacher can’t explain, something that I saw outside when I was alittle girl, playing on my teeter-totter with my brother.

There I was, having arip-snorting time, driving Atom crazy by planting myself firmly on the groundso he dangled in the air. He was kind of shrimpy at the time, so hewas kicking around and yelling things like “You booger! I hate youroctopus guts!”

I thought aboutletting him down gently. I really did. But at thatmoment, I noticed this grey thing, hunkered down behind our whitefence. Naturally, I had to find out what on earth itwas. I’d wanted a German Shepherd for ages, and there was anoff-chance a stray had finally made its way to my house. I threw oneleg over the board and jumped off.

The minute Atomstarted to scream that his nose was broken, the grey thing roseup. I still thank the good Lord that Atom’s eyes were so squinchedup with crying, he couldn’t see the ten-foot tall bat-creature standing rightin front of us. Well, maybe it wasn’t ten feet, and maybe it wasn’ta bat. But it sure wasn’t a German Shepherd.

Interested? Um … YEAH! I don’t even have a lot to critique,just a few small points that could use tweaking.

The first line is one of them. It needs to be re-stated, because the rest ofthe paragraph makes it clear the narrator doesnot wonder where the heart of town is – she already knows. I think this makes for an interesting firstparagraph, so I wouldn’t eliminate it, just re-word that first sentence.

I’d also suggest dropping the line about “something mypreacher can’t explain.” I’ve only posted the first 400 words, but Heather actuallysent me more. So, I know that on the very next page, the narrator’s parentsquickly explain and dismiss what she saw. So why can’t the preacher? Unless there’s also going to be a scene in thischapter where the narrator consults her preacher (and what he says is important),she might not want to bring him up on the first page.

And (a very small point) I'd drop the "Chinese made" in front of "t-shirts" just to simplify that sentence. If it stays, it ought to be hyphenated, but I think the sentence reads better without the modifier.

Other than that, I’ve got nothing to suggest to Heather,except to keep writing! After readingthis selection, I ran to Google and ended up looking up the Mothman, the SilverBridge Collapse, and adding The Mothman Prophecies to my Netflix queue. I’dlove to know where Heather plans to take this story!

Thanks, Heather, for sharing the first page of your workwith us! You can visit Heather at herblog, Book in a Month Mom, and don’t forget to read Marcy Hatch’s critique ofthis page at Mainewords!

Look Here!

2012-01-05T06:44:00.002-05:00

No, not here.
Look here -- at Matt MacNish's blog post about A Friend in Need.
A blogger friend a lot of you know -- Candace Ganger, otherwise known as Candyland -- who hasn't been around as much these past months because of personal circumstances, needs help.
Or, read Candace's post.

A lot of times, we blogger writers will ask you to buy our books.
This time, a well-known and very giving blogger is asking for help.
Please consider lending a hand.

First Impressions: VOICES

2012-01-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

Our second First Impressions post of January comes to usfrom Cindy Schrauben, and it’s a MG novel entitled VOICES.

Callie could hear mumbledvoices, but she wasn’t entirely sure where they were comingfrom. She held her eyes tightly shut, but the light stungthrough; its brilliance radiating in streaks and flashes. Whywouldn’t it stop? She grunted in pain as she shook her head to deny the voicesand the light.

Where was she? Whatwas happening?

“Momma,” Callie criedas she strained to open her eyes against the blaze. The voices came louder andfaster then… cutting through the haze.

“She’s awake, someoneget the Doctor!”

“Callie, Callie …honey, it’s okay, I’m here!”

So many voices. Sherecognized them then - her Mother and her sister, but who else? It sounded likea flock of angry birds… voices coming in and out. Shrieking and cooing at thesame time.

“Callie, Oh, Callie,Thank God you are awake,” her Mother’s voice shrieked with desperation.

Opening her eyes was astruggle…. She was so tired. Callie clamped her eyes tightly closedagain in an attempt to shut it all out. “Why were they all screaming soloudly? Please, God, make them stop.” She thought. She felt a senseof suffocation… like she was being crushed beneath the voices and the light.

“Is she okay? My God,she looks so pale, but she’s alive.” It was her Mother again. “Will she knowwho we are; will she ever be the same? I don’t care, she’s alive. My Baby, myBaby!” Her Mother’s voice sounded different now. Like a bad cell phoneconnection. Flickering... jumping…. like pieces were missing.

It was then thatCallie realized that something was wrong. Very wrong. HerMother was usually very calm and articulate, showing little emotion. What sheheard now was a voice spilling over with fear and urgency. Callie felt thewarmth of her Mother beside her. A warmth that she hadn’t felt for a very longtime; it was both comforting and disconcerting.

“Where’s the Doctor?Someone, help, get the Doctor.” She knew that voice too … it was her littlesister, Emma. Her voice was so loud and sharp. Callie moved. Burying her headin the pillow in an attempt to shut out the voices, but it hurt… it hurt somuch.

I’ll start with some small, easy-to-fix editing. Doctor, mother, and baby should not becapitalized when used as common nouns, only when used in place of the person’sname. The line that Callie thinks (“Whywere they all screaming so loudly? Please, God, make them stop.”) shouldn’tbe enclosed in quotations. An editoronce told me when a character thinks a line of dialogue instead of saying it,it should be in italics.

When the story opens, Callie has been injured and has a headinjury. If I was reading this passagealone, I’d guess something life-threatening had happened – like a caraccident. However, the author included asynopsis for me, so I know Callie’s been knocked down in dodge ball and hit herhead on the gym floor. Therefore, her mother's hysteria surprises me, considering the low mortality rate of dodge ball.

I also know from the synopsis that as a result of thisinjury, Callie gains the ability to hear what others are thinking. So, I’m guessing what sounds like her mother’swords are actually her thoughts. But I'm not sure why her mother treats the survival of herdaughter in a gym accident as a miracle instead of thinking: That idiot gym teacher! I’m going to sue the school! Unless (and this is just occurring to me), Callie's been unconscious a long time. Maybe she's even been in a coma ...? How hard DID she hit her head?

Overall, this is an intriguing beginning, and I’d like toknow more about what happened to Callie and what's going to happen next.

Cindy, thanks for sharing your first page with us, and goodluck on your project! Please be sure andstop by Mainewords to see what Marcy Hatch has to suggest.

First Impressions: CRYSTAL'S MAGIC

2012-01-02T06:00:00.000-05:00

Happy 2012, everyone! Today I’m bringing you a lot of firsts – the first First Impressionof the new year and the first page of our first repeat customer! Nicole Zoltack is sharing the prologue forher YA fantasy novel, CRYSTAL’S MAGIC. It was her NaNo project for 2011.

Marian Wynter rubbed her arms together asthe threadbare coat she wore did little to protect her from the harshness ofthe storm’s raging winds. Lightning flashed, casting eerie shadows across herpath. Thunder roared like an angry lioness. Sleet slashed across her cheeks,mixing with the tears that streamed down her face.

She desperately wantednothing more than to snuggle with her husband in front of a roaring fire, faraway from the storm.

Well, that wasn’tcompletely true. There was one thing she wanted more than that.

Lightning struck atree a few feet in front of her. She slipped on the mud, and rocks cut into herhands as she braced herself from the fall.

Daniel didn’t knowwhere she was going tonight, and she didn’t know for certain that he wouldapprove. She thought he would, though. He was as desperate as she was.

She hurried throughthe rocky terrain. A small cottage with lights flickering through the windowsoffered both refuge from the storm as well as her salvation.

The wind whippedaround more fiercely the closer she approached the cottage. She stumbledforward and couldn’t help but think that the storm was unnatural.

Marian raised her handto knock on the door but before she touched the wooden surface, the lights wentout in the cottage. Her courage left her then, and she even took a stepbackward.

No. She’d come too farto leave now.

She knocked on thedoor—five short taps followed by two quick ones, just as she had been told to.

Nothing. No movementwithin the cottage, no sound other than thunder and the pounding of sleetagainst stone.

She wanted to try theknock again, but she had been told specifically not to do that.

There was nothing shecould do but wait.

The prologue puts me in mind of a fairy tale beginning, witha desperate woman seeking magical assistance from the local witch or wisewoman. The standard thing would be thatshe’s barren and wants to have a child, although why that would drive her out ina storm like this, I’m not sure. Perhaps her need is more dire and urgent thanthat.

I think the first line could be stronger. Rather than having Marian Wynter rub her armsin the wind, I wonder if Nicole could start us off with her mental state – linkingher emotional turmoil to the storm and giving us a glimpse inside her head. This would be more effective than mentioningtears, I think, which practically speaking, would quickly be wiped away bystinging sleet.

I notice the passage is composed mostly of very shortparagraphs, consisting of only one or two sentences. Also, most of the sentences are structured ina similar fashion, beginning with the subject of the sentence. I wanted some variety as I read – longer andshorter paragraphs, sentences that began with dependent clauses, prepositionalphrases, or even the dreaded adverb, just to break up the rhythm. The way it’s written, it seems toostraightforward when the situation calls for something more mysterious, elemental, and wild. I’d like to feelMarian’s desperation through the style of the narrative.

I like the light going out in the cottage, the specialknock, and the warning not to knock again even if there’s no response. This would make me turn the page, to see ifthe door will open for her – but I’d still like to feel Marian’sdesperation/desire/fear more strongly throughout the passage so that I alsoturn the page to find out what she wants … and whether or not she’s going toget it.

Nicole, thanks for sharing your NaNo novel with us, and goodluck to you as you revise it and take it forward! Please stop by Mainewords to read Marcy Hatch’scritique, and say hello to Nicole at her website.

Highlights of 2011

2011-12-30T06:00:00.000-05:00

I can’t believe the year’s gone already! Was it really ayear ago I sat down to write my recap of 2010? And could this year be anywhere near asexciting as the last one? Yes, it could, as it turns out. It was a year of learning ... and a lot of waiting ... and growing professionally, I think.

First of all, I had the pleasure of working with my agent SaraCrowe in 2011. She was my brand newagent last December, and after a year of working with her I am impressed by herupbeat, positive approach -- and awed by her keen eye for editorialcomments. Every time I submit amanuscript to Sara and she sends back comments, my response is: “Wow. That’s brilliant -- and do-able -- and perfect!”

Of course, a big highlight of 2011 was when Sara sold THECAGED GRAVES to Dinah Stevenson of Clarion! I look forward to all the pre-publication business that is to come in2012 – editorial letters, revisions, editing, more editing, and did I mention editing? Believe it or not, I love editing! I don’t have an official publication date yet, although Goodreads says 2013 and who am I to question Goodreads?

WE HEAR THE DEAD may have been published last year, but it continued to pick upgood reviews this year. I attended twoYA panels as an author – which was a thrill! – at Drexel University’s Week ofWriting and the Lititz Kid Lit Festival. (Say that last one 5x fast.) And I had the excitement of seeing my ownbook on the shelf at my school’s Scholastic Book Fair last May.

I finished the first draft of my Tesla-punk manuscript this year,plus several subsequent drafts, and I have my fingers crossed that 2012 willbring good news for this story. There weretimes I despaired of ever finishing it, and this manuscript proved to me thatgetting to the end of the first draft is always my biggest hurdle. If I canproduce even a stinker of a firstdraft, then I can transform the story into anything I want it to be during revisions. I hope to keep that in mind as I work on mynext WIP, which I began this year -- (and which is already giving me some trouble.)

In February, Marcy Hatch approached me about a new blogfeature – First Impressions -- and in March we began our monthly first pagecritiques. I’ve learned a lot just writingthem, and I’ve met a lot of new writers, to boot. (Plus, I hope the critiqueshave been useful ...)

Finally, this recap wouldn’t be complete without my trip toHollywood for dinner with my producer. Okay – the trip to Hollywood was a family vacation, and she isn’t “my”personal producer. But Amy Green is theproducer who purchased a film option for WE HEAR THE DEAD and collaborated withme on the screenplay. I loved meetingher for dinner to discuss the latest developments and future plans, and whoknows – maybe the “Highlights of 2012” will contain some good news in thatrealm! Fingers crossed!

Happy New Years, everyone – and wishing everybody asuccessful 2012!

Gina Review: Top Five Series to Read

2011-12-28T06:00:00.000-05:00

Today I bring you Gina's Christmas gift to me: a guest blog post on her 5 most favorite series of books to read. Interestingly enough, Harry Potter isn't on there ...

Top Five Series to Read by Gina Salerni

1. EverlostSeries: Neal Shusterman- Two kids are killed in a car crash and aretransported to Everlost, a world of the dead. Only kids are here and they arejust like any living people. Along theirjourney they will meet monsters, slip inside of the living, and become the mostimportant people in all of Everlost.

2. AirbornSeries: Kenneth Oppel- Matt works on an airship and one day, he meets apassenger on his ship, her name is Kate. Kate and Matt are so different in backgroundbut love the sky. So when they both share the knowledge of an amazing creaturein the sky, they’ll do anything to find it.

3. Worst CaseScenario- Are you going hiking in the woods? Climbing Mt. Everest? Needhelp boosting a bad grade? Then check out the Worst Case Scenario Series. Theygive you step by step instructions (with a dash of humor) to prepare and carryout these things. They also include some multiple choice questions to see ifyou know about some random facts!

4. SeptimusHeap: Angie Sage- Septimus Heap is in the young army until he realizeshe has magical powers-which aren’t unusual around there. Septimus will rise tothe third most important person in the land. Although, being the Apprentice ofthe Extra-Ordinary Wizard isn’t all fun and games. Septimus will have to protect the princess,face evil wizards, and travel in time.

5. Vordak the Incomprehensible: Vordak theIncomprehensible- Read these books to find out how to rule the world andraise a terrifying army. Vordak will give you step-by-step directions to rulethe world, including picking a name, costumes, and constructing extremely slow-actingyet diabolically clever death traps.

Maybe Christmas Doesn't Come From a Store

2011-12-26T06:00:00.000-05:00

Dr. Seuss was right of course. We all know it, even if we did scramble to make sure all our store-bought presents arrived on time and were wrapped by Christmas Eve. But some of the most thoughtful gifts don't come from a store.

One of my students gave me an ornament hand-painted by his mother to match the cover of my book. I was reduced to tears.

My daughter Gina wrote me a guest blog post, which I will post on Wednesday.

And my other daughter Gabrielle painstakingly learned (by ear) the theme for the eleventh Doctor Who (Matt Smith) and played it on her viola for me Christmas morning.

I feel very lucky.
I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, Hanukkah, or any other holiday you celebrate ... and wishing you a good New Year's to come!

A Holiday Greeting Card for You

2011-12-23T06:00:00.000-05:00

Happy Holidays to all my blogging friends!

If I haven't been to your blog this week, please forgive me. This is the longest teaching week of the year, and the children's minds are GONE. I may have taught the Battles of Lexington and Concord and the Declaration of Independence this week, but I doubt anyone was paying attention. If I survive until 1:30pm today, it might be a Christmas miracle.

And in the evenings, in between wrapping presents, attending Christmas concerts, and licking envelopes, I've been furiously writing, writing, writing.

This is my Christmas card to you all ... a year of my life.
And yes, that IS my hand on Will Smith's knee. No, he didn't object ...

A Slice of Salerni Life 2011

2011-12-21T06:00:00.000-05:00

I've been doing family skits as a Christmas newsletter since 2002, when the girls were ages 2 and 5. It's just a yearly peek inside the Salerni house, and here's the most recent:

A SLICE OF SALERNILIFE 2011 (The Tenth Edition)

DINNER (Reprised)

The Doctor: (cuedramatic music) There's one thing you never put in a trap—if you're smart,if you value your continued existence, if you have any plans about seeingtomorrow—there's one thing you never EVER put in a trap ... ME.

Dianne: Turn off the TV and come to dinner! (Sorcia scrambles over to the table, feet slipping cartoon style on thehardwood floor.) Not you! You’vealready eaten a slab of raw chicken big enough to have been Foghorn Leghorn.

Bob: So, I hear DINNER is the topic of this year’snewsletter. Didn’t you already do that?

Dianne: Seven years ago, yes. But a lot’s changedsince then.

Gina: What’s this speck on my chicken?

Dianne: Well, not Gina. Gina hasn’t changed a bit.

Bob: It’s a flavor particle. Eat it.

Gina: WhatKIND of flavor particle?

Dianne: Parsley. Now eat it. The girls have really grown up since I wrotethat skit in 2004.

Gabbey: BRRRWAAAAAP! (lets out a spectacular burp)

Gina: (admiringly)Nice!

Dianne: Although I still think they might never befit for boys to take out to eat on a date.

Gabbey: You should be grateful I know better thanto do that in public.

Dianne: They’ve got Doctor Who on the TV instead of KimPossible. That’s a plus.

Bob: I kind of miss Dr. Drakken, actually, but Doctor Who can be fun, too – especiallysince Gabbey doesn’t sob at the sight of Daleks anymore.

Gabbey: Give me a break, Dad. I was FOUR.

Dianne: You were ten.

Gabbey: (bendshead over dinner and mutters) Daleks are scary.

Gina: OH NO! The juice from my chicken is touchingmy broccoli. Aaaaaahhhh! (Stuffs napkinunder plate to tilt it. The juice runs back toward the chicken.)

Bob: Life was simpler back in 2004 – now we’rehard pressed just to keep up with band and orchestra concerts, play practice,Thanksgiving Day parades, Robotics …

Dianne: Ah, but if you took a bike ride with Ginaback then, she was strapped into a seat on your bike. Now she’s matching yourpace on 10 mile bike rides through White Clay Creek Park.

Bob: It’s true I don’t miss the toddler/pre-schooldays much. We couldn’t have taken them ziplining on Catalina Island. And wecertainly wouldn’t have dared bring them along to meet a film producer fordinner in Hollywood …

Gabbey: CHA-A-ANGE PLA-CES! (Gina and Gabbey grab their plates and dash around to new seats at thetable. Dianne and Bob hang onto their plates and refuse to move.)

Dianne: We’ve got the Alice in Wonderland play to thank for that. I should be gratefulthat was well after the Hollywoodvisit.

Bob: And they’re pretty good natured when we dragthem along on your book research – to coal mines and abandoned cemeteries.

Dianne: True. Gabbey even got out of the car lasttime we visited the caged graves.

Gabbey: Yes, I looked at your creepy graves! You know, while you’re making fun of us inthe Christmas skit, you might want to remember that seven years from NOW, wewon’t be here eating dinner with you. We’ll be away in college.

Gina: Yeah. You’ll be sitting here alone and sad without your lovely daughters.

Bob: (looksat Dianne) I’m thinking champagne … on a Caribbean island.

Dianne: Before-dinner cocktails on a cruise ship,somewhere between Italy and Greece.

Gabbey: Except you’ll have two of us in college,so you’ll be POOR.

Bob: Touché.

Dianne: She’s right. It’ll be TV dinners in frontof Doctor Who for us, Bob.

Gina: (pushesgreen specks aside on her plate) I’m not eating these suspicious flavorparticles. Can’t be too careful. Gabbey’s been reading your poison book again,Mom.

Gabbey: So, I like to poison people. Fictionally. Sue me.

Dianne: Darling daughters, both of them.

Bob: Wouldn’t trade ‘em.

This Is Not What I Intended to Write

2011-12-19T06:00:00.000-05:00

I attempted to write two or three different blog posts yesterday and didn't get more than a few sentences into any of them before deleting. I was thinking of just posting "I got nothin' for ya" and being done with it, when I remembered this little piece.

I wrote it in high school -- in 1983, folks -- where it was published in our school literary magazine. Its title:

THIS IS NOT WHAT I INTENDED TO WRITE

"I think I have to go write now," I said, excusing myself with the best -- oh the very bestest -- of intentions.

Clever notions spilled out of my favorite pen and danced across the page -- but no Swan Lake, this -- more like the Disco Duck with a sore foot. My bright idea went jump, jump, jump down the paper giggling, "Here I am! Here I am!"

"Come back here, you little rascal!" I growled, one hand swooping like a bird of prey. But it wriggled away, clambering up the bookshelves, the little son-of-a --

My initiative squealed, making a break across the desk, and belly-flopped over the edge. My pen pursued my patience, but it was running along the arm of the turntable, and when it fell, the speed of the record spun it off against the wall. It made an interesting drip on the wallpaper, and my good-will went down for the third time in my orange juice with a piteous gurgle.

Dejected, beaten, a tad perturbed, I drooped my head toward the desk. There -- lo and behold -- I discovered my opening line sitting splat at the head of the paper, sticking its tongue out at me. I lunged for the vile little creature, and my pen flipped backwards over my fingers and into the air.

It couldn't have come down yet, because I haven't found it.

Deja Vu: Seances = 19th C Twitter

2011-12-16T06:00:00.003-05:00

While I was promoting WE HEAR THE DEAD in the early months of 2010, I had a startling revelation about the role played by séances in the 19th century. Too bad I only had 5 blog followers at the time …

Thanks to the Déjà Vu Blogfest – The Day of the Do-Over – I get to share it again!

While working on a guest post for my blog tour, trying to explain why abolitionists and suffragettes endorsed the Fox sisters’ séances, it suddenly hit me: Seances were the 19th century’s version of Twitter!

Picture it -- People receiving brief, cryptic messages sent by faceless entities from a far away place. That pretty much describes both a séance and Twitter, doesn’t it?

While I was writing the Fox sisters’ story in WE HEAR THE DEAD, I struggled to find an explanation for why intelligent and educated people like Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Lucretia Mott, and Frederick Douglass supported something that was just a clever hoax. Were they really taken in? Eventually I came to the conclusion that – just like today – people endorse things that benefit them.

People were quick to believe messages sent from Heaven, but, of course, as with Twitter, one can never be really certain of the sender’s true identity. 19th century Senator John Calhoun was a staunch (even rabid) advocate of slavery. Yet, after his death, Calhoun’s spirit (@johncalhoun if you please) visited the Fox sisters’ séances, claiming he’d been enlightened by the Truth in the afterlife and recanting his former position!

Stanton, Mott, Douglass, and other reformers knew exactly what they were doing when they endorsed the Fox sisters. They had a message they wanted to spread, and the Fox sisters, abolitionists and fledgling feminists themselves, were more than happy to cooperate. As @benjaminfranklin said in one of their séances, “Great changes are on the horizon!”

Hunting Anachronisms

2011-12-14T06:00:00.004-05:00

It’s hunting season! But a gun is not my weapon of choice – and neither is that book on the right, although it was the first thing I bought for the job.

When you write historical fiction, it takes a lot of effort to get the details right. And believe me, I try to do my homework, even in the first draft. I tend to focus on plot and setting: Can Verity take a train to Catawissa in 1867? (Yes.) Would doctors coming out of the Civil War understand the importance of washing their hands and instruments in preventing infection? (The open-minded ones were just beginning to realize.) How does one quickly empty the cylinders in a Civil War era revolver? (My brother-in-law Larry is my #1 go-to man for all weapons-related questions.) What books might Nate have on his reading shelf? (Dr. Kane’s Arctic Explorations was a must!)

Harder to pin down is the actual word usage of the time period – phrases, expressions, figures-of-speech.

And, um, I make mistakes.

To carry a torch for someone – that’s safe, right? Torches are old. Caveman old. But the phrase is not. It’s actually a reference from an obscure Broadway song, dated 1927.

To keep track of someone or something – 1883.

To hightail it – 1885.

Once I start looking, they're everywhere.

When I was first asked by my editor at Clarion to eliminate anachronistic language in THE CAGED GRAVES, I wanted to find a good resource to help me. That book I bought – Eric Partridge’s Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English – weighs 5lbs, 3.75 ounces, is printed in miniscule type, and has a bunch of pages bound out of order. And in spite of its 1400 pages, most of the words and phrases I’ve tried to look up … aren’t in there! No wonder it was ex-libris!

I’ve actually found Dictionary.com to be a fairly helpful resource. It has word history listings for quite a number of phrases. Krystalyn Drown also shared this resource at ipl2.

If all of the resources above fail me and I can’t date something, then I just remove the questionable phrase.

There’s always another way to say it.

Have YOU used any anachronisms today?

Guest Post: Of Men and Cats

2011-12-12T06:00:00.002-05:00

Today I have my brother-in-law Larry O'Donnell here with a guest post. (No, that's not him on the right.) I'm pretty sure I know what activity he was doing when he conceived and composed this little essay ...

Of Men and Cats -- Larry O'Donnell

I find cats to be curious critters. They have been worshipped in some cultures and vilified in others. Blofeld came off as a creepy Bond villain with a fancy cat in his lap. There are lots of references to cats in the Bond flicks, but I won’t go there.

I am medically diagnosed with an allergy to cats, their dander, saliva, and general presence. So, when I volunteer to clean the cats’ litter boxes for my wife, it is a real token of my affection. The cats know about my allergy, some sort of sensor they have. They swarm me and rub up against me. I usually pay the price of a stuffy nose and itchy eyes and throat.

Many folks assert that cats are lazy and lie around doing nothing all day. This is totally wrong. They do something all day and it goes in the litter box, or on the floor if their aim fails. They only eat and drink so they can continue to fill the litter boxes.

We have four cats, three of advanced age and one with just a few years on him. There are three pans full of kitty litter. They are full of other stuff too, and that’s where I come in with my opposable thumbs.

The cats use the pans even as I’m cleaning them. Of course, since I’m there, the cat doesn’t cover up his work; he just leaves it for me to deal with it. There is nothing quite like fresh cat scat. I saw a fly land on one. He jumped off, went a few hops and then threw up. Even my stuffy nose fails to protect me from the smell. I gag along with the fly.

Finally I carry the bag of sh…er waste up to the dumpster and dispose of it. Good job, unless the bag breaks. Even County HAZMAT refuses to respond to this type of mess. They jump all over nerve gas or anhydrous ammonia but draw the line at cat waste.

Sometimes I have to give two of the cats their insulin shots. (My wife asks me to “shoot the cats.” I grin and she says, “Not that way.” My smile fades and I get the syringes.) One cat comes out and says, “Shoot me up, I’m jonesin’ here.” The other one, who weighs in at about 20 pounds, flees under some furniture. There, he puts up a defense like the Russians at Stalingrad. I usually get scratched or bitten. Occasionally, I get the insulin. No problem, I just drink a quart of orange juice and eat four Milky Way bars.

Cats are strange creatures. They seem to always have a facial expression that says, “What’s in it for me?” Call one and he runs away. Shoo one and he comes to you. I don’t understand cats but they do provide me with a means to demonstrate my affection for my wife.

How Do You Know When NOT to Jump Ship?

2011-12-09T06:00:00.001-05:00

Last week, I came across two blog posts discussing troublesome WIPS and how to know when it’s time to give up on them.

Meredith Moore wrote about falling out of love with your book. Sometime you need a break, (Remember Ross and Rachel? “We were on a break!”) and when you come back to the story, everything is fresh and appealing again. Then again, sometimes it’s not.

Kristen Lippert Martin likened giving up on a book to bailing out of the Tour de France, when they strip off your number and write ABANDONED next to your name on the team roster. She hates quitting and makes no bones about it.

I quit sometimes. I admit it. During the past year, I worked on three new projects. At some point or other, I quit on all of them – walked away, took a break, and (just like Ross) amused myself some other way. After all, I’ve got a full time job, two busy children, a husband, a blog … My time is precious to me, and if a project’s doomed then I’m not going down with the ship. I’m going to take my life preserver and jump.

For two of the projects, walking away was a relief. The characters quickly faded from my mind and never bothered me again. Their ships sank faster than the Titanic while I paddled happily away.

The third project was a science fiction story featuring Tesla and Edison. When I got stuck on that one, I set it aside and started making notes for a different project.

Around that time, I discovered the TV show The Big Bang Theory. (Yeah, I was a few seasons behind, but that’s what Netflix is for.) And every time I watched the show, the opening credits hit me like a blow. It was the sequence of old photographs of inventions and scientists that got to me. I cringed. My heart hurt. I felt GUILTY. I felt LONGING. I WANTED to write about my turn-of-the-century apprentices in Tesla’s lab and their budding scientific discovery.

The Big Bang Theory (or the opening credits, anyway) sent me back to the story. I figured out what was wrong with it and started a brand new draft.

Several months and three rounds of revision later, I had a manuscript worthy of showing to my agent. And now when I watch TBBT, I sing along and love every second of the credits.

How do you know when NOT to jump ship? You’ll know.

Something – even the strangest thing – will send you back.

First Impressions #31

2011-12-07T06:00:00.005-05:00

Our third selection for First Impressions in the month of December is another NaNo project. (Looks like some awesome stuff came out of November this year!) This is a middle grade fantasy by Elizabeth Prats called CRYSTAL MILK.

It has always been her story. I’m just there, living on the outskirts.

But she changed my life.

CHAPTER ONE

Footsteps pounded the cobbled pavement behind me. Not good at all. A trail of marinara sauce leaked down my chin as a long piece of melted cheese flapped across my face with each step. I practically choked trying to bite the last bit of cheese while running. I darted into an alley and snorted when the cheese, covered in marinara, went up my nose. It burned! I muffled the sound with a hand over my nose. I couldn’t let them hear me. Distracted, my black t-shirt caught against a nail beside a fire escape. It tore but I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The footsteps became louder. So loud. Much too loud. They rattled my eardrums. I bit my lip and chanced a look back. Adjusting my eyes, I stared into the darkness. Blinking I could see through the darkness. Shadows followed, large shadows that ran across the walls. Witches.

Well, this is an interesting beginning in that it simultaneously gets my heart racing and makes me laugh. The main character seems to be in deadly peril, and yet she (he?) is apparently slobbering marinara sauce and cheese from some hastily eaten pasta meal. Or was it pizza? The stringy bits of cheese make me think PIZZA, whereas marinara sauce makes me think SPAGHETTI. Maybe pick one or the other? Anyway, I love the contrasting moods presented here.

I’d like to see this paragraph broken up for better effect. I find that shorter paragraphs tend to rev up the tension a bit and help emphasize the key elements of the scene – the pounding footsteps, the alley, the shirt caught on a nail, and the sloppy sauce. Otherwise all these wonderful details can get lost in the long paragraph.

I also have a few small editing suggestions. I’d rewrite the third sentence to say: A trail of marinara sauce leaked down my chin, and a long piece of melted cheese flapped across my face with each step. For some reason, I think it reads more smoothly that way. Also, the main character is distracted, not the t-shirt, so the subject of that sentence needs to be changed or the adjective inserted a different way. Finally, these sentences -- Adjusting my eyes, I stared into the darkness. Blinking I could see through the darkness. – can be merged into one. Blinking to adjust my eyes, I stared into the darkness.

Otherwise, great job! I would definitely want to keep reading from this point. Why are witches chasing this character? And did she get to finish that marinara before she had to get up and run? LOL! Thanks, Elizabeth, for sharing your page with us. You can visit Elizabeth at her blog, Dorm Room Dreamer, and be sure to stop by Mainewords to read Marcy Hatch’s thoughts on this same page.

First Impressions #30

2011-12-05T06:00:00.002-05:00

Our second First Impressions for December is a middle grade science-fiction/fantasy novel by Fiona Claire entitled FINDING OUT. Like the last First Impression, this is a NaNo project and a first draft.

I might be dead. If I am, it’s a shame because I didn’t say good-bye to anybody, not Dad (if he even cares anymore) or Mrs. K or anybody. But I don’t feel anything and I don’t see anything or hear anything, so . . . Doesn’t that mean I’m dead?

The last thing I remember was running, like I always do when things get too awful. And it had been a totally awful, horrible, crappy Friday. So, when I got home from school, I didn’t eat the snack Mrs. K had left out for me, or take my medicine, or even change my school uniform. I just ran outside. The air felt cool on my face as I raced across our back yard and into the wild maze of bushes and trees that we called the ‘back lot.’

It was a good place to be alone, and I made a b-line for the secret fort I’d created as a little kid. About four summers ago, when I was just eight, I’d worked hard cutting back bushes and vines to make a sort of tunnel that led directly to Headquarters.

The problem was, now it was all overgrown. I couldn’t even get a few feet down the path without the branches cutting and slashing at me. Had it really been that long since I was back here to check the place out? It must have been over a year, at least, since before . . . well . . . before a lot of things.

I ran back inside and got my pocket knife to cut back some of the bushes. Emmaline was just hanging out in her web in my bedroom window.

“Hey girl,” I whispered to her, “Wanna go for a walk?”

There’s a deceptively large amount of information packed into a short amount of space on this page. (Very neatly done, btw!) By the end of the passage, I know something bad is about to happen to the MC, so that she (he?) thinks she might be dead. (A lot of information is given, but not the gender of the speaker – however, my gut instinct is this is a girl.)

I also know she lives with a distant and seemingly uncaring father and Mrs. K (a housekeeper?); she attends a private school (the uniform), and has some kind of medical condition (the medicine she didn’t take). A year ago, something happened that caused her to stop visiting her fort.

AND she either has a pet spider – or a magical spider that lives in her room. She talks to the spider, but the spider doesn’t talk back (yet), so I’ll withhold judgment on the magical part.

There were a few things I questioned. If she hasn’t been out to this fort in a year or more, why does she make a beeline (not b-line, btw) for it now, after a Friday so crappy she doesn’t eat her snack or take her medicine? I also thought if the path was so overgrown she couldn’t make it to the fort, she’d need gardening shears, not a penknife from her room.

And the biggest question for me, what happened to this girl to make her think she might be dead? The last thing she remembers was running … and the scene starts with her running to her fort … so I expected I was going to find out right away. Then she turns around and goes back to her room. I was disappointed by this detour, but I assume the author knows exactly what she’s doing and the spider Emmaline is crucial to what happens next.

One thing is certain, the story certainly has my attention! Fiona, thanks for sharing your page with us!

You can find Fiona at her blog Ageless Druids. Also, be sure to stop by Mainewords for Marcy Hatch’s critique of this same page.

First Impressions #29

2011-12-02T06:00:00.003-05:00

As NaNo projects come to a close, a lot of writers are taking a breath and stepping back to look at their new creations. That’s why I’m excited to share this First Impression of FIX YOUR LIFE! by Judy Mintz. This is Judy’s NaNo work, which she describes as magical realism, or possibly outright fantasy.

“Move the bus! Move the bus!”

The crowd had gathered early to see what the crew of the reality show, Fix Your Life!, had done to our house in the week they’d had it under wraps. As the bus revved its engine, the volume increased.

“Move the bus! Move the bus!”

The over-sized bus began to roll lethargically away for the big reveal, and the crowd grew more frenzied. Then, as one, the chant became a collective gasp, followed by a cacophony of dismay.

Dexter, the host of the show, yanked my blindfold off and said, “Ta da!” He danced in front of me like a deranged elf, darting from one side to another so fast that I had trouble taking in what was across the road. Then I saw it. It was the same house we’d moved out of a week ago, but in much, much worse shape.

I whipped around to find the rest of my family, but there was no one else there. Not my family, not a crowd, no one. Even the bus had disappeared.

“Come on! It’s so cool. I know you’re going to love what we’ve done,” Dexter cackled. He grabbed me by the upper arm and dragged me across the street. His grip was unnecessarily tight. I could feel his long fingernails digging into my flesh. I stumbled across, trying to keep my feet heading forward while twisting the rest of me into a pretzel to look behind at the empty lot that had been chock-full of people moments before. Where did they all go?

My foot hit the curb and I would have gone splat if Dexter hadn’t had such a vise-like grip on me. “Watch your step, little lady. Watch your step.”

I’ll start with small editing items. First, I’d avoid putting commas around the title of the show Fix Your Life! because the exclamation point and the comma together look strange. You can probably just drop the words reality show, since that’s implied by the situation.

As for these lines: He danced in front of me like a deranged elf, darting from one side to another so fast that I had trouble taking in what was across the road. Then I saw it. It was the same house we’d moved out of a week ago, but in much, much worse shape. I absolutely LOVE the description of Dexter as a deranged elf! I’d eliminate the word that after the words so fast, and avoid using the word it at the end of one sentence and the beginning of the next.

Moving on to bigger things, I definitely wanted a better description of what the narrator sees when the blindfold comes off – something more than in much, much worse shape. Unless, of course, this is a dream, and from the sudden unexplained disappearance of the crowd, I guess it might be.

When the crowd gasps in dismay, it made me wonder if the story takes place in a dystopian setting, where a television show can wreck your house if they want to, and you can’t do anything about it. That would be an awesomely chilling world! But the subsequent events -- the way the crowd and the bus all vanish at once -- made me think the main character is dreaming.

If this IS a dream beginning, I’d caution Judy to think it over carefully. Starting with a dream is a device that’s been over-used to the point of becoming a “no-no” for querying writers. I’m not saying you can’t do it (and do it well!) – just be sure your dream beginning is effective enough to make it stand out among others.

And if this isn’t a dream beginning, where did all the people go?!?! What kind of creepy power does Dexter have?! I'm rather hoping this is real, because if it is, Dexter must be one sinister TV host!

Thanks, Judy, for sharing your first page with us! You can find Judy at her blog Everywhere I Go – and don’t forget to stop by Mainewords for Marcy Hatch’s take on this same beginning!

Inspiration from Pictures

2011-11-30T06:00:00.003-05:00

I know a lot of writers collect songs and compile playing lists to inspire them during their writing, but I’m more of a “silence is golden” writer. Now, pictures are a different story. I like to print out pictures and prop them up near my laptop for inspiration.

Melissa Sarno recently shared a picture on her blog that she found inspirational for the setting of her WIP, and Marcy Hatch recently told me how a picture she spotted on somebody else’s blog set off a chain of thought resulting in her newest “toy.”

As for me, I’ve already blogged about how a photograph of a caged grave ended up inspiring a whole novel. I also located a “cast” for that THE CAGED GRAVES while searching Library of Congress historical photographs. My choice of pictures even ended up changing the personalities of my characters.

I’ve got pictures to go along every manuscript. This is a daguerreotype of Robert Cornelius, but to me he’s Hodge, the love interest in one of my stories.

In another manuscript, one of my characters drives this car – an electric Riker Demi-Coach.

And I’m already starting to collect images for my newest project:

What images have inspired YOUR writing?

First Drafts = A Road Trip from Hell

2011-11-28T06:00:00.002-05:00

Me: (getting into car with a bunch of strangers) Okay, everyone! I realize we don’t know each other very well, but I’m sure we’ll all become good friends as we go. At least we know where we’re headed. (hands paper to the Main Character, riding shotgun.)

Main Character: What’s this?

Me: An outline. Well, a synopsis. More like notes, really. Guidelines. Hang onto them, okay?

Main Character: Sure. No problem. (shoves paper into a crack between the seats)

Me: (pulling out of the driveway) Here we go!

Love Interest: (taps me on the shoulder) What’s with those two in the back? (points a thumb at the third row where two people with blank features sit)

Me: Oh, those are Minor Characters. I don’t know exactly what they do yet, but they’ll develop along the way.

Love Interest: They give me the creeps. Is one of them supposed to be a rival romantic interest?

Me: Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.

Main Character: (pokes me) Turn here. Turn here.

Me: We’re not supposed to turn here.

Main Character: (grabs the wheel) Trust me! Turn here!

Me: Now we’re off course!

Love Interest: I’m hungry. Pull over at that convenience store.

Me: But we only just started! Geez.

(It takes forever for them all to decide what they want, and they keep changing their minds. I go into the store, buy a big bag of junk food, stand in line behind some slow pokes, and finally return to find somebody new in the car.)

Me: Who’s this?

Love Interest: A new character, I think.

Me: (to New Character) Who the heck are you? You're not in my notes.

New Character: You need me.

Me: For what?

New Character: Not sure, really, but I’m important.

Me: (looking in the car and discovering the Main Character in the driver’s seat) What are you doing?!

Main Character: I’m driving. Get in. (throws the car into drive and I barely make it inside before we peel out of the parking lot)

Me: (hanging onto the dashboard) But you don’t know where you’re going!

Main Character: Let’s face it. Neither did you.

Minor Characters: (rummaging through bag) You didn’t get what we asked for. None of this is right. (throwing Cheetos at my head) You don’t know why we’re in the story, and you didn’t get our orders right.

Me: (to Main Character) Hey! Don’t turn there! We can’t go that way! GPS says the road ends up ahead!

Main Character: You probably need to update your GPS. Relax. We’ll be fine.

Love Interest: (to New Character) Wanna make out?

New Character: You bet!

Me: Hey, you two! Cut it out! That’s not supposed to happen!

Main Character: (turning around to look in the backseat) Hell, yeah! If anybody gets to make out, it ought to be me!

Minor Characters: (pointing straight ahead and shouting around mouthfuls of Fritos) Look out!

CRASH! BANG! THUMP!

(A shocked silence falls over the car.)

Me: We’re in a ditch.

Main Character: Um, yeah. Kind of.

Love Interest: (straightens shirt, looks at me, worried) But you can get us out of here, right?

Me: Oh, now I’m in charge again? Okay, everybody out and PUSH!

(And that’s just the first day …)

Thankful

2011-11-25T06:00:00.002-05:00

1. I am thankful that my lovely and talented daughter enjoyed her opportunity to perform live before television cameras in the Dunkin Donuts Thanksgiving Day Parade at the Philadelphia Art Museum.

2. I am thankful the neighbors’ dogs didn’t eat me when I went over to feed them on Thanksgiving Day.

3. I am thankful for the health of my family.

4. ~~I am thankful for the giant stack of papers I have to grade this weekend.~~

4. I am thankful to have a good job in an economy where not everybody is that lucky.

5. I am thankful I had a little time to myself for writing.

6. I am thankful for all my friends and the wonderful people I’ve met through blogging.

I hope you all had a peaceful Thanksgiving holiday, and for those of you in countries that do not celebrate this holiday, I hope you had a thoroughly enjoyable Thursday!

Too Much?

2011-11-23T06:00:00.003-05:00

The other night, I dreamed I went skiing. That’s not unusual, especially with winter coming on. I love to ski!

Unfortunately, the skiing conditions (in my dream) were poor – soft mushy snow and not a lot of it. That’s not unusual either. Oddly enough, I dream more about bad conditions than good ones. I can only assume skiing in my sleep is beyond my skill level.

Then something new happened. I took out my phone to Tweet about the lack of snow.

Yup, I dreamed about Tweeting. That’s a first.

Have you ever dreamed about Twitter? How about Facebook? Blogger?

I suppose it was only a matter of time.

Does Your MC Need a Character Arc?

2011-11-21T06:00:00.002-05:00

I’m sure you all know by now I’m a hopeless Pantster. Outlines just don’t work for me. I can write ‘em, but I don’t stick to them.

However, as I was brainstorming my next writing project (or what I hope will become my next writing project) I felt the need to plan something out ahead of time. I’ve had two Shiny New Ideas come to nothing recently, thanks to lack of a significant story arc, and when I stumbled upon THIS site, I thought, “Now here’s the tool for me!”

The title of the article is Outline Your Novel in 30 Minutes – but ignore that. I didn’t time myself, and this doesn’t produce an outline anyway. However, I thought the series of questions presented here was a good way to map out a story arc for the MC in a proposed novel.

It also occurred to me this approach might be useful to writers in the middle of a NaNo project – if you’re stuck and unsure where to go – or if you want to test the overall strength of what you’ve written so far.

I gave it a try, and although it didn’t provide me with all the plot details I need to get started, it did give me a good sense of who my MC is, what she wants, and what stands in her way.

Now, I just need to research everything else. Back to my bizarre Google searches: portals to Hell, Nazca lines, Krakatau, petroglyphs, Algonquian legends, alien abduction, ice caves …

Yeah, I’m all over the map.

Gina Review: Ghost Dog of Roanoke Island

2011-11-18T06:00:00.003-05:00

My daughter Gina is here today with a review of GHOST DOG OF ROANOKE ISLAND, which she received for review from the author, C. K. Volnek.

The Ghost Dog of Roanoke Island is about a boy named Jack who lives on present day Roanoke Island with his dad. Rumor is there is a horrible monster that’s been running around. And Jack’s found it. The monster would’ve killed him except for a strange dog coming and fending the monster off.

Jack meets a Native American named Manny who knows all about the monster. He calls it the Witiku and says it’s from ancient times when English colonists were arriving. This is the thing that destroyed the people of Roanoke Island. Manny says Jack must be the one to kill the Witiku but first, Manny shows him visions of the Witiku and how it was created. The dog is legendary too and has been fighting off the monster since it was created. Can Jack defeat the Witiku? Or will it finish off Roanoke Island for the second time?

I would recommend this book to people who like to read books about magic. Anyone who knows the history of Roanoke Island would appreciate how cleverly it is worked into the story. However, the initial change between no magic and the magical visions was confusing to me. Manny throws a piece of wood in the fire and then he and Jack appear somewhere else. Up to that point, I thought the story could have been realistic fiction. Other than that one point, I thought this was a great book and a creative solution to the Roanoke mystery!

Thanks, Gina! I just want to add that I teach the Roanoke mystery in history class every year to my fifth grade students (in fact, Gina was in my history class last year for this unit!), and this is one solution to the mystery I never covered!

You can buy GHOST DOG OF ROANOKE ISLAND through Muse It Up Publishing or Amazon, and you can visit C.K. Volnek's website here.

Where Do You Begin?

2011-11-16T06:00:00.005-05:00

When starting a new project, where do you begin?

I usually start with an inspiration, which eventually leads me to a starting point. My inspiration for WE HEAR THE DEAD was the life of Maggie Fox, and I knew I’d discovered my starting point when I sat down one day and wrote Maggie’s confession, followed quickly by Kate’s rebuttal, and I knew where I wanted to take the story.

THE CAGED GRAVES was obviously inspired by the actual graves in Catawissa, Pennsylvania, but I didn’t have my starting point until I took my fifth grade class on a field trip to Camp Tockwagh in Maryland. I looked out over the swampland they call Hidden Lake and suddenly knew my story started in a place just like this one.

One manuscript was inspired by my husband saying, “You should write a story about Nikola Tesla.” But it was a strange experience my husband had during a job interview that gave me my starting point. Another manuscript was inspired by a group of 19^th century researchers and the tragic death of one of them. My starting point? A photograph of a historic home outside Philadelphia. I looked at this picture and said to myself, “This is the house. This is the first glimpse she gets of her new life.” She referred to my protagonist, a girl dredged out of an asylum and brought to live with these researchers.

But what do you do when you have a starting point that shows up first, without an inspiration preceding it? Take the following, for instance:

When Aunt Eggletine suggested, for perhaps the tenth time this month, that all their problems might be solved if her niece would only consider marrying her fourth cousin, Ardeth hurled a breakfast roll at her head.

Unannounced airborne missiles had become quite frequent in the last half a year, and Eggletine Meriwether ducked this one without spilling a drop of her tea. “Really, Ardeth!” she said. “For someone who doesn’t know where her next meal is coming from, you are quite reckless in your use of pastry.”

Yes, that’s what I’ve got. A beginning with no real story yet. Perhaps this beginning IS my inspiration. Or perhaps it’s just a Shiny New Idea which will soon prove itself to be not so shiny after all. For now, all I can do is figure out what brought Ardeth to the point of hurling breakfast rolls at her aunt and where the story might go from here ...

Open Minds: An Interview with Susan Kaye Quinn

2011-11-14T06:00:00.001-05:00

When everyone reads minds, a secret is a dangerous thing to keep.

Earlier this month, Susan Kaye Quinn launched her new book OPEN MINDS with a fabulously successful online Launch Party. Today, I bring you an interview with Susan from a writer's perspective.

1. What was the inspiration for Open Minds?

It all started as a 1st paragraph contest on Nathan Bransford’s blog. I didn’t have a “catchy” first paragraph for any of my current stories, so I decided to write a paragraph for a story that didn’t exist! I had been playing around with a story idea about a boy who was a touch empath (he could sense feelings by touch), but I wasn’t sure that would work. The night before the contest was due, I was drifting off to sleep when the image of a girl sitting in a classroom full of mindreaders popped into my head. Only she couldn’t read minds and she was painfully isolated, an outcast. I jumped out of bed and wrote the paragraph. A few weeks later, I still couldn’t get the image out of my head, and I knew I had to write Kira’s story. (BTW, I didn’t win the contest!)

2. In Open Minds, everyone except Kira can read minds. How does a society survive if everyone’s inner (and possibly unpleasant) thoughts are open for inspection?

Great question! It certainly transforms everything from social niceties (there aren’t many) to political structures (there are now honest politicians) to architecture (keeping everyone separated enough to not read your neighbor’s thoughts). But the initial time of change was one of great turmoil, as you might imagine. When I was researching the story, I actually googled “what would happen if everyone read minds” and found a thread where the discussion was evenly split between people that believed the world would end, and those that thought it would bring peace on earth. In Kira’s world, truth is something everyone takes for granted, as well as knowing all the unpleasant thoughts of their neighbors. The rumor mill is a force of nature unto itself. But society survives and adapts, as humans are wont to do.

3. What, exactly, is a mindjacker?

A mindjacker can jack into your head and control your thoughts, emotions, and even tamper with your memories. Anything your brain controls (which is basically everything), a mindjacker can mess with. You can imagine having one of these living next door might be a bit problematic.

4. Which character in Open Minds was the most fun to write about?

Simon. In every book, I have a favorite character, which is probably wrong, but I can’t help it. He has great internal conflict and he’s the bad boy (I have a bit of a weakness for those). But mostly he was fun to write because he brings out all of Kira’s hopes and dreams and flaws.

5. Any surprises for you while writing this story – plot twists you didn’t plan, characters who took the wheel and hijacked your outline?

This entire book was a surprise! I pantsed it from the beginning, starting out with just that paragraph about a room full of mindreaders and not a lot more (certainly not an outline). Here’s an excerpt from my notes as I was writing the novel during NaNo two years ago, where I discover there are mindjackers in the story:

Whoa! This story is about mind control! Uh, duh. Well, the persuasive kind to get Kira to join their "cult" - isolate, get them dependent, make them allied with you (us against the world) and then BAM! lower the boom, ask them to do the deed.

Yeah, I talk to myself in my notes. And I kinda ramble, too, apparently. But I truly didn’t know the story was about mindjacking when I started writing it.

6. Open Minds is the first book in a planned trilogy. When can we expect to see future installments?

I plan to release CLOSED HEARTS in 2012 - in May, if all goes according to plan, later if it doesn’t. I have CLOSED HEARTS and Book 3 all outlined and planned out (unlike OPEN MINDS) and I’m drafting CLOSED HEARTS right now, for NaNo 2011.

7. Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?

It's an amazing feeling to be writing the second book while people are reading the first! It's inspirational and all kinds of cool. So, if you read OPEN MINDS, write a review or drop me a tweet (@susankayequinn) and let me know what you think!

Sue, thanks so much for the interview and good luck with your NaNo writing of CLOSED HEARTS! (Is that an awesome follow-up title to OPEN MINDS or what?) You can find Sue at her website.

STRING BRIDGE Chart Rush

2011-11-11T06:00:00.003-05:00

Today is THE day to help Jessica Bell's debut, STRING BRIDGE, hit the bestseller list on Amazon, and receive the all-original soundtrack, Melody Hill: On the Other Side, written and performed by the author herself, for free!

All you have to do is purchase the book today (paperback, or eBook), November 11th, and then email the receipt to:

jessica.carmen.bell(at)gmail(dot)com

She will then email you a link to download the album at no extra cost!

To purchase the paperback:

Amazon USA

To purchase the eBook:

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

To listen to samples of the soundtrack, visit iTunes.

If you are not familiar with String Bridge, check out the book trailer:

Rave Reviews for String Bridge:

“Jessica Bell’s STRING BRIDGE strummed the fret of my
veins, thrummed my blood into a mad rush, played me taut until the final page,
yet with echoes still reverberating. A rhythmic debut with metrical tones of
heavied dark, fleeting prisms of light, and finally, a burst of joy—just as
with any good song, my hopeful heartbeat kept tempo with Bell’s narrative.” ~ Kathryn Magendie, author of Sweetie and Publishing Editor of Rose & Thorn Journal

“Poet and

musician Jessica Bell's debut novel String Bridge is a rich exploration of desire, guilt, and the
difficult balancing act of the modern woman. The writing is lyrical throughout,
seamlessly integrating setting, character and plot in a musical structure that
allows the reader to identify with Melody's growing insecurity as her world
begins to unravel … String Bridge is
a powerful debut from a promising writer, full of music, metaphor, and just a
hint of magic.” ~ Magdalena Ball, author of Repulsion
Thrust and Sleep Before Evening

“Jessica Bell is a brilliant writer

of great skill and depth. She doesn't pull back from the difficult
scenes, from conflict, pain, intensity. She puts it all out there, no holds
barred, no holding back. She knows how to craft a scene, how to develop
character, how to create suspense. This is an absolutely brilliant debut novel.
I look forward to reading her
next novel, and next and next.” ~ Karen Jones
Gowen, author of Farm Girl, Uncut Diamonds and House of Diamonds

Connect with Jessica:

String Bridge: http://www.stringbridge.com/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/jessica_bell

Website: http://www.jessicacbell.com/

Blog: http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/author.jessica.bell

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/MsBessieBell

Publisher: http://www.luckypress.com

Holy Crap! That's Jerry Spinelli!

2011-11-09T06:00:00.002-05:00

Yup. I’m not proud of it, but that’s what I said when I discovered Mr. Spinelli standing behind me at a book event last Friday night. Luckily, he didn’t hear me – or if he did, he was classy enough to pretend he didn’t.

For a chronic wallflower like myself, author events are both terrifying and exhilarating. Terrifying first – the anxiety building for days in advance. Exhilarating afterwards.

When I arrived at the Local Author and Illustrator night at Children’s Book World in Haverford this past Friday, I was happy to see many faces I knew from events like PAYA and the Week of Writing at Drexel Hill University. I chatted with Jennifer Hubbard (The Secret Year), April Lindner (Jane), Susan Shaw (Tunnel Vision), A.S. King (Please Ignore Vera Dietz), K.M. Walton (Cracked), and met illustrator E.B. Lewis (The Negro Speaks of Rivers).

So, we're all standing shoulder to shoulder in this crowded but charming book store. I’m talking to K.M. Walton about her upcoming release, and she mentions she wants to get a book signed by HIM before he leaves -- and looks over my shoulder. That’s when I turn my head and discover the friendly and cheerful gray-haired gentleman signing books right behind me. I look at his name tag – and blurt out the title of this blog post.

Way to play it cool, Dianne.

Anyway, I scrambled to buy a book and get in line to meet him. He was sweet. I babbled incoherently. He continued to be sweet. And I spent the rest of the evening grinning from ear to ear, with his signed book under my arm – planning how to play it much more cool on Monday when I casually tell my students I have a signed Jerry Spinelli book for our classroom library.

First Impressions #28

2011-11-07T06:00:00.002-05:00

Our final First Impression for this month comes from Jerri George. This is the first page of SEADUCED, a generational saga set in the 1950’s to 70’s in Cape Cod and Miami Beach. Jerri says it’s loosely based on her parents’ experiences – something I find rather alarming, considering the direction this scene takes!!!

'Come on and rock...around...the clock tonight', urged Bill Haley and his Comets, once the DJ finished extolling the song's virtues as one of the hottest summer sounds of the mid-fifties. It was evening in Miami, but the mercury still registered above 80. The burgundy leather seats in the Packard were slick with perspiration and although there was a slight breeze, it was balmy. As they drove away from the ocean the humidity increased but no matter how unbearable the heat or enticing the melody on this night…one thing was certain…Cliff and Dahlia were taking Liz into the Everglades to end her miserable life!

Tonight, her involvement in their otherwise ordinary lives would end. Cliff had formulated the plan and Dutch, a nickname Cliff had called his wife since the day they met, was in full agreement. He had never meant for the situation to become this complicated but now...with letters coming to their house on a weekly basis, her showing up at the door unannounced, and threats she made about making their secret public...they had to make it stop!

Cliff drove with the car windows rolled all the way down hoping for any relief from the sweltering night. Always the sharp dresser, he was sorry he’d chosen to wear his favorite khaki slacks instead of shorts. His feet were sticky and swollen in saddle-brown leather loafers sans socks. The matching belt produced an uncomfortable tightness around his waist. Or was that simply his anxiety peaking? Liz was squeezed between them in the center of the sedan’s front seat. Her slim black skirt hiked up her thighs as she curled to find room for her heels. Her light turquoise blouse was buttoned loosely and fell open at the top edge showing her ample chest. She was clever to reveal just enough to appear welcoming. The clatter of her bangle bracelets annoyed Dutch to no end.

How appropriate, Dutch thought. That's where the harlot would be most comfortable …between them, in the middle, destroying her life and their marriage!

This is a riveting way to start the novel! Are Cliff and Dutch are really going to kill Liz and dump her body in the Everglades? However, I’m not crazy about starting with the lyrics and a description of the DJ’s plug for the song, although it does firmly set the time frame for us. Maybe I’d like it better if you actually included the DJ’s banter, and if Cliff found the perkiness of both the song and the DJ a jarring contrast to their grim mission. (Liz, however, could sing along, blissfully unaware of her danger.)

I don’t think you need the first sentence of the second paragraph: Tonight, her involvement in their otherwise ordinary lives would end. That is obvious enough without saying it. I also wasn’t happy with this sentence: He had never meant for the situation to become this complicated but now...with letters coming to their house on a weekly basis, her showing up at the door unannounced, and threats she made about making their secret public...they had to make it stop! The phrases in the list are not grammatically parallel. One starts with a preposition, another with a gerund phrase, and the third with a noun. Restructuring the list with parallel constructions would make a smoother feel.

I love the description of Liz, but at the end of this paragraph be careful, because it switches from Cliff’s POV to Dutch’s. (You could say Cliff knew the clatter of the bracelets would annoy his wife.)

Well, I’m hooked by the situation – and I’m seriously wondering how Jerri’s parents are involved in this. Please tell me they're not Cliff and Dutch?!?!

Jerri is currently looking for a critique partner, so if you found this page interesting and you’d like to read more, please contact her through her Facebook page. Also, be sure and stop by Mainewords to see Marcy’s critique as well.

First Impressions #27

2011-11-04T06:00:00.003-04:00

Our second First Impressions for the month of November is a YA Fantasy coming to us from Emily Casey entitled THE FAIRY TALE TRAP.

Mom lied. This isn’t anything like home.

My old room wasn’t crowded with packing boxes, or ribbons of peeled-off tape. A full-length mirror leans against the back wall, still wrapped in brown paper. I’ll never unwrap it. Mom knows I hate mirrors. The bare mattress, with its smug little machine-sewn squiggles, mocks me from the corner. I’m unlivable, it says. You’ll never get to sleep.

It looks like a packing store puked all over somebody else’s bedroom. No teenage girl should have to live like this.

I shove another half-unpacked box to the wall, leaving a path in the new carpet. Frustration gets the better of me. I lie flat on my back and press the inside of my elbow over my eyes. I can’t look at this place any more. It’s not a bedroom. It’s a storage closet. Complete with the stinging fumes of fresh paint.

“Mom, I need help!”

I shout as pathetically as I can. Even without looking, I know as soon as Mom steps into the room. My whole body tenses up and the same thought keeps shooting across the room at her: You did this.

“What’s wrong, Ivy?” Mom’s voice sounds run-down. Moving always makes her tired. You’d think she’d learn.

“I can’t find my pictures,” I say without uncovering my eyes. Mom can always tell how upset I am by looking at my eyes, and I really don’t want to talk about it.

“You mean the one of Dad?”

I hate it when she reads my mind.

“It’s probably in one of these boxes.”

My trophies from track and cross-country click together as she rifles through the box labeled ‘MISC’. The box I’ve searched through eight times already.

“I already looked there.” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice. Does she think I haven’t checked it yet? I almost snap at her again, but I manage to keep my mouth shut. I really don’t want to yell at her. I just want my picture.

The shuffling of random objects stops. Mom wipes her hands on her jeans, making a light zipping sound. “He’ll be back in three weeks.”

“Three and a half.” And that’s if he’s not killed or captured. The nightmares can get bad sometimes.

First, I have to say that Ivy reminds me of my own teenage daughter, falling completely apart and dissolving into a puddle of goo over some small frustration. Her tone, her attitude, the way she blames her mother … yup, I've lived it!

I love the line: It looks like a packing store puked all over somebody else’s bedroom. I can feel her frustration, and I can picture the scene. Based on the last sentences of this excerpt, I’m guessing her father is a soldier stationed overseas -- although this is a fantasy, so it could be something completely different and unexpected. (Especially since Emily's contribution to my Six Word Summary challenge was: Teenager gets trapped in fairy tale.)

I really have only one point that bothers me, and that’s the second sentence. This isn’t anything like home. Since Ivy’s later statements imply she and her mother have moved frequently (Moving always makes her tired. You’d think she’d learn.), I wonder what she means by home. Does she mean “the last place she lived?” If you move all the time, is any place home? I guess I’m wondering if she’s missing the place she came from, or if she’s sick of starting over in new places. If she moves frequently, perhaps the line should read something like: This place isn't any more a home than the last place we lived -- or the one before that.

Emily, thanks for sharing your first page with us! Marcy Hatch over at Mainewords will also be critiquing this page – and Emily can be found on Twitter.

Giveaway Winners and First Impressions #26

2011-11-02T06:00:00.004-04:00

Before we get to this month’s First Impressions, I’d like to announce the winners of the Spooktacular Giveaway Hop! Thank you to everyone who entered! Now, a drum roll please …

Congratulations to Kat C, winner of a signed copy of WE HEAR THE DEAD – and also to Candie L and Ashlyn Jai, winners of an original photograph of one of the (soon-to-be) famous CAGED GRAVES of Catawissa, PA . I’ll be contacting you for mailing addresses, or you can email me first at dksalerni@gmail.com.

Today, we’ll be looking at the first page of WAITING FOR APRIL, a paranormal romance by Jaime Loren.

My life is a web of endless days, with periods of silent darkness my only indication that time is still moving. Others sleep. Those unlike me, who age and fall ill – they sleep. The darkness gives them time to recover from the fatigue and hardships the daylight presses upon them. For eight hours of their day they are allowed to forget about their troubles, and enter new worlds where anything can happen. Worlds where they can see and hold loved ones who are no longer with them. Worlds where they can go back in time and change their future.

If I could sleep, I’d dream it was 1729 again, and I’d save April Anne Fletcher.

And I wouldn’t have failed her another thirteen times since.

*****

Every morning I stood in the hallway of Harvard’s Quincy House, waiting to discover if April was still alive. Today – the first day of our summer vacation – was no different. But this morning there was no light spilling out from under her door, nor had she answered when I’d knocked. Considering she could sleep through a severe hailstorm, these observations alone didn’t necessarily strike fear into my heart. No, it was the fact she also had a terrible habit of meeting her maker that sent me racing down four flights of stairs and into the courtyard. I checked my cell phone again. No text messages. No calls. My chest tightened.

I’d only just scrolled to her number when something slammed into my back.

My eye got stuck on the first line, and at first I thought it was a run-on, and then I thought it was just missing a comma, and finally I caught the rhythm of it and read it correctly as written. But since you don’t want your reader doing that much work on your very first line, I’d suggest simplifying it.

In fact, my attention was absolutely riveted by this sentence: If I could sleep, I’d dream it was 1729 again, and I’d save April Anne Fletcher. You may want to consider moving that up and making it the opening line. It would certainly get my attention! How important is that first paragraph really? What if you began with something like:

If I could sleep, I’d dream it was 1729 again, and I’d save April Anne Fletcher.

And I wouldn’t fail to save her thirteen times afterwards, either.

Now, the next thing I’m going to suggest kind of shocks me, because I’ve never done this (and the one time I tried it, I couldn’t stand it). But for some reason, I wanted the paragraphs after the section break to be written in present tense. Maybe it’s because that first paragraph you wrote was in present tense and I was expecting it to continue.

But of course, with just this one glimpse, I don’t know what complications of time are ahead of you. Based on the contrast between the date 1729 and the cell phone – not to mention the hints of immortality in that first paragraph – I’m betting this novel spans huge time gaps and you may be constrained by what tense you use when. Still, I was a little confused by the switch to past tense. Maybe a slightly altered transition would ease us into your past tense narration?

What do my blog readers think?

Jaime, thanks for sharing your first page with us! You definitely have my attention, and can I tell you, I absolutely love the name April Anne Fletcher as our repeatedly dying damsel-in-distress!

Please stop by Mainewords to see Marcy Hatch’s critique of this page, and check out Jaime Loren’s blog, The Lovable Protagonist.

A Busy Month Ahead!

2011-10-31T06:00:00.002-04:00

How do you like the deviled eyeballs my husband made for my daughter's Halloween party? Awesome, huh?

I'd like to wish good luck to everybody participating in the NaNoWriMo Challenge starting tomorrow! I don't participate in NaNo, because November's not a good month for me to start a new project -- I always have an avalanche of end-of-trimester work to grade, report cards to complete, and parent-teacher conferences.

I also have 3 author events coming up -- at Children's Book World in Haverford, PA, the Avon Grove Library in West Grove, PA, and the KidLit Festival in Lititz, PA. Check the sidebar for details. Perhaps I'll see some of you there!

Today's the last day to enter the Spooktacular Giveaway Hop. I'll announce the winners from my giveaway on Wednesday, along with a November First Impressions post. Besides my regular First Impressions series, I'll also be participating this month in promotional events for Susan Kaye Quinn's Open Minds and Jessica Bell's String Bridge. And, I'm guest posting over at The Crowe's Nest tomorrow, talking about the challenges of writing historical fiction for a YA audience.

Phew! That is a busy month! I feel like I'm forgetting something ... probably groceries, house cleaning, and doctor's appointments, as usual. Let's just hope I don't forget to pick up my kids from their various after school activities!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to start organizing my information for the presentation I'll be giving at 2 events this month: Outlining vs Pantstering. I have to sit down and decide whether I'm going to outline my presentation ... or, ahem, fly by the seat of my pants ...

Any bets on which one I'll choose?

Doctor Who?

2011-10-28T06:00:00.001-04:00

My daughter Gabbey will be just plain awesome as the Eleventh Doctor this Halloween. I am darned impressed!

Can't you just see her delivering one of the Doctor's fabulous quotes:

"There's one thing you never put in a trap -- if you're smart, if you value your continued existence, if you have any plans about seeing tomorrow -- there's one thing you never, ever put in a trap. Me."

In case you've never seen the show, here's Matt Smith as The Doctor with his trusty sonic screwdriver.

Other than Mommy pride, I haven't got much for you today. (Unless you'd like to help grade a big stack of student papers for report cards? No? Oh, well. It didn't hurt to ask.)

I was featured over at Unicorn Bell on Monday with a spooky excerpt from one of my works-in-progress. If you're not familiar with Unicorn Bell, you should check it out their regular posts on writing elements and critiques.

And there's still plenty of time to win prizes in the Spooktacular Giveaway Hop!

Six Word Summary

2011-10-26T06:00:00.002-04:00

Sometimes it pays to be brief.

So, let’s see how many of my writing/blogging friends can summarize one of their works in six words!

The rules are: The summary sentence has to have a subject and a predicate and (of course) exactly six words in it.

I’ll start you off with a few.

WE HEAR THE DEAD:
Prank traps sisters in deceitful life.

THE CAGED GRAVES:
Family secrets blight betrothed girl’s future.

And my short story NECROMANCER:
Loving a bereaved widower proves dangerous

Now it’s your turn! Can you squeeze your premise down to six succinct words?

Don’t forget to check out the Spooktacular Giveaway Hop for a chance to win awesome prizes on hundreds of blogs!

Spooktacular Giveaway Hop

2011-10-24T00:01:00.003-04:00

Wanna win some prizes? This Halloween, there are literally hundreds up for grabs!

I Am a Reader, Not a Writer and The Diary of a Bookworm have teamed up to host the Spooktacular Giveaway Hop -- starting October 24 and ending October 31 -- and there are about 400 PARTICIPATING BLOGS!

I've got three giveaways on offer:

1 copy of WE HEAR THE DEAD (signed) -- open to mainland US residents.

2 original photographs (5x7 glossy) of one of the creepy graves in Catawissa, PA, subject of my upcoming book THE CAGED GRAVES (Clarion, 2013) -- open to US, Canada, and Mexico.

Entering the giveaway is easy!

1) Be a follower of my blog.
2) Comment on this post and tell me your favorite Halloween movie.

(Mine is Hocus Pocus -- I never get tired of this movie!)

3) Win an extra entry by Tweeting about the Giveaway (and tell me in your comment that you did so).

Now, there's approx. 400 other blogs participating, so you better get hopping! The list of participants should appear below, but if Mr. Linky isn't working, you can find the list HERE.

In Defense of Pantstering

2011-10-21T06:00:00.002-04:00

While researching outlining and pantstering for an upcoming workshop, I discovered there are countless websites and blogs about outlining your novel. When it comes to pantstering, however, all I could find were bloggers explaining what it was – and why they never use it. There were even a few sites describing “How I Saw the Light and Switched to Outlining.” (You’d think writing your novel by the seat of your pants was the devil-worship of the writing world!)

I understand why you can’t tell someone “How to Pantster.” By definition, you make it up as you go along. I can also understand why a writer might get discouraged writing a first draft this way – if the writer expects the first draft to be worthy of sharing. It won’t be. However, I maintain that most first drafts written from an outline aren’t “ready” yet, either, even if you think they are.

To fill the void out there, I thought I’d share my method for pantstering my novel, THE CAGED GRAVES.

1) First there was an idea – inspired by the real graves. After researching the sparse historical facts, I conjured a fictional explanation for their existence.

2) Next, I wondered: Who cared? That’s when I identified my main character – the daughter of one of the dead women – and began to fill up the cast of the story. I made notes – character traits and names, ideas for scenes, random plot points. Most of these would never be used.

3) I researched the history of the region and unearthed some historical events that tied in nicely.

4) One day, I went on a field trip with my class to a swamp. (Yes, a field trip to a swamp. Don’t ask.) I went home and wrote my first scene, set in a swamp.

5) From that point, I fumbled forward. My characters developed their own traits, thumbing their noses at my plans for them. Occasionally, I’d write myself into a corner – but if I took a few days to mull it over, I’d realize it wasn’t a corner after all. It was a chute, sending me exactly where I needed to go.

6) Sometimes, I’d write a list of what needed to happen next. As soon as I was sure where to start the next chapter, I’d go on writing. About 50% of the time, I completely ignored my list.

7) Two thirds of the way through, I realized I’d made a really big mistake. Shortly afterwards, I thought of a fantastic way to fix it, but knew it would have to wait for Draft #2. I started planning the second draft while finishing the first.

8) I invented my climactic scene only two chapters ahead of when I needed it. Until then, I’d been planning a different denouement. The new one rocked.

9) I barely had the last period on the first draft before I hit Save As and started the second draft. I didn’t share the manuscript with my agent until Draft 4.

While this isn’t the only way to pantster a novel, this tends to be the method I use most of the time. Before you ask if outlining would save me a draft or two, I’ll tell you that I outlined my last wip, VOLTAGE. I only got three chapters into the writing before I realized my outline sucked. It was no more useful than the brainstorming notes I usually write and then ignore. So, I trashed the draft and the outline, started over with a new motivation for the main character, and pantstered my way from there.

Pantstering isn’t evil. It’s just the way I do it!

Gina Review: Bad Spelling

2011-10-19T06:00:00.002-04:00

I have my 11 year old daughter Gina here today with a review of Bad Spelling* by Marva Dasef -- newly released from Muse It Up Publishing.

GINA'S REVIEW: Bad Spelling by Marva Dasef

I read an Advanced Reading Copy of Bad Spelling. The story is about a young girl, Katrina, who lives in a village on an Arctic island full of witches and warlocks. Unfortunately, her spells end up failing; she is the only witch who can’t make spells work. Her father was a human, not a warlock, so she thinks this may be why she can’t use magic correctly.

After her aunt uses her witchy powers to talk to the frozen body of Katrina’s father, she finds out she has family in a nearby country who put a protective spell on her father against witches. This is preventing her magic from working. Her mother wants her to wait for spring to visit this family and try to get them to remove the spell, but Katrina and her half-vampire brother Rune sneak out even though it’s winter. They’ll just have to walk across the frozen ocean and ask them to remove the protection spell. Easy, right? Wrong. Along the journey they’ll meet killer whales, heart-stopping cold, trolls, and a very angry guy with a knife.

I’d recommend this to anyone who likes a good adventure story and fantasy books. This is a great book!

* Gina received this book from the author for review.

Newly Released: Bad Spelling

2011-10-17T06:00:00.001-04:00

Last Friday the 14th -- just one day removed from Friday the 13th -- my friend Marva Dasef's new book Bad Spelling released from Muse It Up Publishing. Bad Spelling (Book 1 of The Witches of Galdorheim) is a middle grade fantasy involving a klutzy witch and a shaman's curse.

If you’re a witch living on a remote Arctic island, and the entire island runs on magic, lacking magical skills is not just an inconvenience, it can be a matter of life and death–or, at least, a darn good reason to run away from home.

Katrina’s spells don’t just fizzle; they backfire with spectacular results, oftentimes involving green goo. A failure as a witch, Kat decides to run away and find her dead father’s non-magical family. But before she can, she stumbles onto why her magic is out of whack: a curse from a Siberian shaman.

I've got Marva here today, sharing a guest post on the art of scrying, as used in her novel.

SCRYING by Marva Dasef

Crystals, water, fire, clouds, steam, chicken bones. All of these objects have been used to see into the past or future. Well, that's the story anyway. You recall the Penseira from the Harry Potter series. That, too, is a scrying object, but recalls memories of the person using it.

In Bad Spelling, the witches use a scrying crystal. They can see the past only, but the past can be just a seven-second delay behind.

Kat wants to find out about the family of her fatber, Boris, a marooned Siberian fisherman who happened to get stuck on Galdorheim Island. Kat's mother liked his looks, rescued him, and they hand-fasted. Kat was the result of the union. Shortly after her birth, however, Boris was trapped in an ice cave collapse. His body remains encased within the glacier.

Kat asks her mother to trace Boris's path back to his origins. Ardyth had never done this before because it was against witch code to scry a person without their permission. When Kat points out that Boris could hardly object, Ardyth agrees to scry Boris's past.

The crystals I describe aren't the standard Gypsy crystal ball, but natural morganite crystals. Out of the rough crystal structure, the witches shape a scrying crystal from the pure morganite.

AN EXCERPT:

Ardyth rummaged through a box on the floor and extracted a large chunk of Morganite beryl. “Ah, here it is. I haven’t used this in years.” She placed the pink, six-sided crystal on the table. She opened a crate standing near the worktable and rummaged through it. “Did you know the Druids used beryls for scrying? Morgan Le Fay learned how to use them from Merlin. He was a Druid, you know.” She pulled a white cloth from the crate and laid it flat on the bench, setting the beryl precisely in the center.

Ardyth lit two candles and placed one at each end of the table. “You don’t want the candles so close the flame reflects off the crystal.” She explained each step to her daughter, who hadn’t participated in a scrying before. Ardyth held her hands, palms facing inward, on each side of the crystal, close yet not touching. “There. Now, I can take a peek and see what reveals itself. Sometimes it’s stubborn and doesn’t want to cooperate.” Ardyth leaned closer and peered into the beryl. “The idea is to look into the center of the crystal, not the surface.”

Bad Spelling is available directly from Muse It Up and on Amazon Kindle. You can find out more about this book at Marva's website, and on Wednesday, my daughter Gina will be here with a guest review.

Living Oxymorons

2011-10-14T06:00:00.003-04:00

As a writer, observing human behavior comes with the job, and sometimes, if you look at your experiences as “research,” it makes aggravating encounters worthwhile.

This past weekend, my husband and I bought some items for our mountain rental house in the Walmart at Mount Pocono, Pennsylvania. We left the store behind a group of five young people all dressed in neat, clean, conservative clothing. The young men wore button down shirts and tan slacks. The young woman wore a high necked blouse and a long skirt. It soon became apparent they were headed for the van marked Christian Life Counseling parked next to our car.

We loaded up our vehicles side by side. There was no way they could have been unaware of our presence. When I was finished, I walked my empty cart about fifteen feet to the nearest cart park and then headed back to my car, where my husband was just getting in the driver’s side. The young Christian counselors – if that’s what they were – finished loading their van and shoved their cart between our two vehicles, completely blocking my front passenger door.

Yup. Because that’s what Jesus Would Have Done.

There was no way for me to get into my car. So I walked their cart to the cart park, too, and they watched me do it as they pulled away.

When’s the last time you observed somebody behaving in a manner completely opposite their advertised appearance?

Have you ever used an observed strange behavior in your writing?

And does writing about it make you feel any better? (It did for me!)

Blogs, Facebook, and Teenage Daughters

2011-10-12T06:00:00.008-04:00

Some of you may notice I've given my blog a makeover. I liked the black slate with white text, but it gave me trouble every month with the First Impressions posts. It was hard to differentiate between the text being critiqued and the critique itself, and embedded junk leftover from cutting and pasting often made the post unreadable once it was published (although it looked fine in previews.)

I still have a few problems. I can't get the new header centered, for one thing. And when I try to add newly followed blogs to the roll on my sidebar, they don't appear in my list. I could add them one by one using their URLs, but why take all that time when there's a button that's SUPPOSED to do the work for me? Grr.

Facebook had a surprise for me this week, too. I'm not talking about the new layout, but a friend request from the main character of my WIP. For a moment, when I saw that Mick Brewster was "friending" me, I wondered if I'd completely lost my grip on reality. But then, sanity returned as I realized who was behind it:

Teenage Daughter.

So, I friended him and discovered she'd put quite a lot of thought into his profile. Parts of it made me giggle:

It still gives me a start when Mick's posts appear in my feed -- and a laugh when my beta readers respond to him.

Clearly, Teenage Daughter has too much time on her hands. I should get her to handle the social media campaign for my next book when it comes out. Heck, I should rent her out to other writers!

Anybody want to bid on a teenage social media guru?

Playing a Tough Room

2011-10-10T06:00:00.004-04:00

Today, I have a guest post from my brother-in-law, Larry O'Donnell about his newest paying gig. Do you all remember the scene in The Blues Brothers where they play Rawhide repeatedly in the dive country-western bar? Apparently, Larry's played in places like that, but they pale in comparison to the tough crowd he plays these days!

Playing a Tough Room by Larry O'Donnell

A couple weeks ago, I started my first paid gig playing guitar since 2003. Prior to that year, I played (paid) gigs with different bands going back to my teens. I never played big venues or with any famous band. I was mostly a VFW, Elks, Moose, and small bars kind of player. I played at picnics, church functions, charity events, and office Christmas parties. (Now known as Holiday parties)

Places with names like Salty’s, Donny’s Road House, the Silver Saddle, and Sal’s had fishnets up to keep objects from impacting band members. It got so you could judge the DQ (Drunk Quotient) of the house by the number of guys and sometimes women, who would come up and tell you how great you were. One guy brought us drinks between sets. When we finished we found out the guy ran a tab for the band and we had to pay for all of it, including his drinks.

Once, in a dive in West Virginia, (the dive was invented in West Virginia) the solo guitar act was so inexperienced, he couldn’t finish a song without a major mess up. The poor guy was about to be tarred and feathered. My buddy, who was driving, decided I should finish the gig for the guy and got him to lend me his guitar. I played Country Roads by request every other song until they closed. Let’s just say the DQ there was about 150 out of a possible 100. The owner gave me $100, though, so it turned out good for me.

Consequently, I don’t usually get too riled up about playing a new place. After all, what could be tougher than playing a bar where bikers throw beer bottles at the band and keep score?

I’ll tell you what: Playing for pre-school kids ranging from toddlers to 5 year olds. No DQ in this place. No polite applause. If they liked a song, they screamed with the joy only a four year old can have. If they didn’t like it, they told you. “Mr. Larry, that wasn’t a good song, play Spiderman.” One cute kid put his hands to his ears and ran to the back of the classroom. I am waiting for a bill to pay his therapist.

Raw expression is what you get from children. No veneer of civilization. No easily bruised egos allowed here. They really liked the Unicorn song with hand signs for all the animals. I played Proud Mary and they came in on the chorus in a way that would have gotten them hired by Tina Turner. When I played a song with a beat, they danced. At least most did. They whirled like Warner Brothers’ Tasmanian Devil, somersaulted, and crashed into each other. When I ended the song they asked for more rock and roll. So much for all the time I spent learning to sing about Old MacDonald and his farm.

Mostly, they just had fun. I laughed so much, my side hurt. I can’t remember how long it has been since I did that.

First Impressions #25

2011-10-07T06:00:00.003-04:00

Our third and final First Impression for the month of October is a YA Urban Fantasy called KNIGHTS OF AVALON by Melissa Barlow.

A fencing champion destined for the Olympics, a martial arts prodigy, an organizer for Habitat for Humanity. Someone was murdering the brightest, most brilliant teens in New Jersey. Now in the middle of the night, the persistent ringing of my cell phone broke me out of my sleep.

I scrambled to get my bearings in the darkness. I was in my bedroom, the Bruce Lee posters on the walls told me that much. Through bleary eyes, I could see the alarm clock shining 3:11 back at me. I froze, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. Why would someone be calling at 3am? I peered at the phone, trying to place the number. Then I took a deep breath and picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Justine. I’m sorry to be calling so late.” I immediately recognized the shaky voice on the other end of the line, it was my best friend’s Mom, Mrs. Martinez, but I had never heard her sound like this. “Gwen’s not with you, is she?”

My mouth dropped, the question a punch to the gut. Three in the morning on a school night. A murderer on the loose, cutting down the best kids in the state. And Gwen? She was the most incredible person I had ever met. She had an inner light, a compassion that shone like a beacon, and now she was missing.

“No,” I said, my mind racing with possibilities, each one more horrible than the last. “Why would she be?” I was jumping to conclusions, I told myself, even as my pulse pounded. I had to hear Mrs. Martinez out, let her explain what was going on. But Gwen was a straight A student. She was going to be a heart surgeon and work for Doctors Without Borders one day. There had always been something different about her. She was like the other victims. Special.

Okay, wow. This is an opening that grabs your attention!

I like Justine’s voice. It’s got a sharp, clean feel to it, and I can connect with it. Now, I have no problem with your character using sentence fragments to emphasize her points – I do it all the time. But if you’re going to open the story with a sentence fragment, I suggest restructuring the first paragraph so that readers know it’s done on purpose. How about a list?

A fencing champion destined for the Olympics.
A martial arts prodigy.
An organizer for Habitat for Humanity.

Someone was murdering the brightest, most brilliant teens in New Jersey. Now in the middle of the night, the persistent ringing of my cell phone broke me out of my sleep.

The only other comment I have is that you have two comma splices:

I was in my bedroom, the Bruce Lee posters on the walls told me that much.

I immediately recognized the shaky voice on the other end of the line, it was my best friend’s Mom, Mrs. Martinez, but I had never heard her sound like this.

For the first one, you could use a semi-colon in place of the comma. But on the second one, I think it would look better if you just used a period and started a new sentence after the word “line.”

Other than that, I have no suggestions! I would definitely turn the page to learn more. I’m kind of disappointed the sample ended here!

Be sure to head over to Mainewords to read Marcy’s critique of this passage, and pop over to say hello to Melissa at her blog, Surviving Writing a Book.

First Impression #24

2011-10-05T06:00:00.003-04:00

Our second First Impression for October is Michael DiGesu’s THE BLINDED GARDENER. It’s an edgy Y/A Contemporary about a seventeen-year-old boy abused by his Marine father.

Danny

One moment I’m my Dad’s personal punching bag, and the next, well, I’m a pawn in his maniacal master plan. That is, until Danny stepped into the picture and discovered my secret.

Dad forced me to move across the country, and once again, I found myself at a new school, the third in two years. It sucked having a dad in the military.

The warning bell rang for first period. The halls cleared with the slamming of doors. As I wandered about searching for my classroom, I heard someone approach me from behind. I turned and saw a blonde guy walking up the center of the hallway. Long bangs fell over his eyes as he loped past me with a kind of natural ease.

How blind is this guy? Didn’t he see me standing here, fiddling with this useless map.

“Hey, dude. Could you tell me how to get to room 305?”

A slight curl formed on his lips as he faced me. He tossed his head. Platinum fringe shifted to the side and revealed freakish blue eyes that glanced toward me, unfocused.

Holy shit! Is he blind? Stoned is more like it.

“I’m heading that way.” His deep voice held a trace of a southern accent. He turned and continued his long strides.

I envied his height: well over six feet and me just an average dude.

“You better move. Connors loses it when you’re late.”

I rushed to catch up to him. His hand overshot the rickety metal banister. On the second swipe, he made contact and climbed the stairs.

I really like the opening sentence – especially the alliteration! One moment I’m my Dad’s personal punching bag, and the next, well, I’m a pawn in his maniacal master plan. But I think the shift to Danny in the second sentence happens too soon for me as a reader. I want to hear more about the MC’s father and himself. Not a whole page worth, mind you -- but another sentence or two, so that we get a feel for the MC and his dad before a third character is mentioned.

If the opening is expanded, the sentence introducing Danny can stand on its own, in a separate paragraph (possibly with a new transition.)

Then Danny stepped into the picture and discovered my secret.

The next paragraph could use some grounding in place and time, because we’re shifting from general, introductory statements about the MC’s life into a specific scene. Perhaps something like:

In the spring of my senior year, Dad forced me to move across the country from Oregon to Maine, and once again, I found myself at a new school, the third in twenty-four months. (I’m making up the details, but you see what I mean.)

At that point, I think we’re completely ready to dive into the scene where the MC meets the blond boy with the freakish eyes who appears to be stoned – and who I’m guessing is Danny. I think this part is great and plants the reader directly in the MC’s world.

One last note: The first sentence is in present tense; the rest is in past tense. That might be deliberate, as the narrator moves from a general reflection about his life to the past events he wants to relate. In that case, it might be beneficial to set that first sentence (and any additional ones that get added) apart from the rest of the text – maybe in italics, with a space break before the next paragraph? What do the rest of you think?

Thanks, Michael, for sharing your first page with us! Be sure and take a look at Marcy’s critique at Mainewords, and Michael can be found at his blog, In Time …

First Impression #23

2011-10-03T06:00:00.016-04:00

Hello, October! Today, I’m bringing you a First Impression of teen writer Gabbi Calabrese’s YA paranormal WIP, UNVEILED.

I was the first person in the class to finish my test, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Especially considering I guessed on all but three of the twenty-seven questions. Perhaps I should have studied the previous night, or, you know, did one of the three billion worksheets that Mrs. Gonzalez handed out that week.

I like the opening paragraph! I can already see I’ve got a snarky MC on my hands, with a snappy narration to match her character. With that in mind, how about trimming the last sentence a bit? Perhaps I should have studied, or did one of the three billion worksheets Mrs. Gonzalez handed out.

In my first drafts, I tend to pack my narrative with excess adjectives, prepositions, and thats. Then I spend the next several drafts taking them out! As we go on, I’m going to suggest some places you could trim words, too.

But I was a notoriously excellent guesser, so I figured I'd at least make a C.

Yawning, I leaned back in the ~~uncomfortable and~~ hard plastic chair. I rested my feet on the little metal basket ~~that was~~ attached to the bottom of the seat in front of me. Its intended purpose was to hold text books, but ~~I believed that~~ my feet were much more worthy of ~~its~~ support.

The second my sandals landed atop of the metal, Mrs. Gonzalez cut me a sharp look and pursed her lips. Oh no, I might break the new desks. I grinned at her, hoping it came across innocent, and tossed one of my shoulders into a shrug. If I wasn't going to get paid for attending school, I was sure as hell going to make myself as comfortable ~~as I wanted~~. Mrs. Gonzalez rolled her eyes, irritated, but I was pretty sure she expected nothing less from me.

Time slowly ticked away as I squirmed in my seat, trying to find a position that didn't make my ass numb. Seconds turned to a minute. Five minutes. Ten freaking minutes. Really? Only eight of my delightful peers had turned in their tests. That left twelve more. And I repeat: Really? ~~The test was focused on denitrification. You either knew the answer or you didn't, and for the answers you didn't know, you guessed. It wasn't that complex of a concept.~~

All of these strikeouts are just suggestions, of course. But I LOVE her voice (delightful peers – LOL) and snipping out unnecessary words will make it all the more clear and vibrant.

The next two paragraphs describe your MC’s boredom. I’m going to suggest taking them out or reducing them. You don’t want too much boredom on your first page -- LOL! There is one line in the middle that seems important, though. You'll want to make sure that stays in:

I hadn't gotten much the night before, with the nightmare-slash-dream weirdfest that occurred every time I fell asleep.

Huh. Interesting! Next, we get to meet an obviously important character:

The guy who was sitting in front of me whipped his head around and glared at me. Any snappy comment I was going to make refused to surface.

Asher Eaton. Since when did he sit in front of me?

His eyes were a stunning emerald green color. I wanted to look away, wanted to avert my mind from even thinking about his eyes and where else I had seen them. But I couldn't. I didn't cower away from anyone's stare. Especially Asher Eaton's. His gaze dipped, but I knew it wasn't to break the eye contact. My legs, which I didn't even realize I was jiggling, were shaking his desk. If it were anyone else I would have mumbled out an apology. Instead, I just dropped my feet from the basket under his seat and raised my eyebrows in a happy now? way.

Okay, now you’ve got me curious because I’m wondering where she’s seen Asher’s eyes. In her nightmare-slash-dream weirdfest, perhaps? However, I’m not sure about her reaction. It seems to me that she would raise her eyebrows sarcastically at most people – that's how she reacted to her teacher. But if Asher affects her strangely, might she not act out of character and mumble an apology? That is, are you sure her reaction wouldn’t be the opposite of what you’ve shown? Just a suggestion, of course, because I don’t know how these two are going to interact later.

Gabbi, thanks for sharing your page! I think you have a great voice and a main character who’s already got me curious about her story. At this point, I would definitely keep reading to find out more about her! (Can I just say that between Samantha, Dylan, Gabbey, and now Gabbi -- I've had some amazing teen writers sharing their work on this blog?)

Please stop by Marcy’s blog to check out her critique, and you can find Gabbi at her new blog WriTEEN Adventures.

What's the Most Embarrassing Thing ...

2011-09-30T06:00:00.002-04:00

… you’ve ever been caught “rehearsing” for your writing?

You know what I mean. Sometimes, you just have to act it out, right? Tell me I’m not the only one who practices bits of dialogue (both sides of the conversation) just to see how it’ll sound.

No, seriously. Tell me.

Because I can’t be the only nut who tries to figure out how each character is standing, what gestures the speaker will use, what expression will be on the listener’s face …

So, one night, I take the dog outside to do her business, and I wait on the deck while she runs down to the yard. I’ve been contemplating a scene where my character and his love interest are standing on a balcony, leaning on the railing. He's at his lowest point; she's talking to him – and there’s a spontaneous, impulsive, he-has-nothing-more-to-lose kiss. I was trying to figure out the logistics of it, height differential, where their arms would be … you get it.

It was a dark night, a cloudy sky with no stars and no moon. Really pitch black out. And nobody could see me. I was alone, right? I practice out the whole dialogue; I move my arm; I turn my head.

Suddenly, there’s a presence beside me, a weight on the railing, and I get kissed!

A big, wet, sloppy dog kiss.

And Sorcia, with her front paws on the railing, just grins at me.

Maybe it’s no coincidence I never used that scene in my story.

So, come on. Make me feel better! Has it ever happened to you?

How Does a Shiny New Idea Lose its Luster?

2011-09-28T06:00:00.004-04:00

Oh, those glittery SNI’s! We’ve all been attracted by them at one point. Sometimes they try to tempt us away from a WIP just as the work is getting tough. Sometimes they pose as the next big project, until we realize they have no substance to them.

When do you realize your SNI is not what you hoped it would be?

For me, it’s usually a case of the “story idea” being more of a concept or a gimmick – with no actual story attached. It defies outlining OR pantstering. It stalls within a few chapters because there’s nowhere to go. My last SNI had no definable ending and only random plot events that seemed rather shallow and pointless when I tried to put them in logical order. The one before that lacked a central conflict strong enough to carry the storyline.

Now, that’s not to say that some story ideas don’t transform themselves into something entirely different. That happens to me when the characters hijack the story and take it someplace I never expected to go – and when it occurs, I know I’ve got a winner.

And it’s not to say that stories should be abandoned if they don’t take off within a few chapters. I started one manuscript three times before I understood my main character and discovered the real story.

But when the idea was never “a story” to begin with – that’s harder to fix. The best thing I can do is store the idea on my computer. Maybe someday, I’ll be working on a different story and need just that element – you never can tell. But for the time being, it’ll stay in that file labeled Fool’s Gold.

Gina Review: Vordak: Rule the School

2011-09-26T06:00:00.001-04:00

My daughter Gina is guest blogging today with a review of Vordak: Rule the School. She previously reviewed Vordak’s first book; you can find that one here. (She even dressed up like him for the occasion. See below.)

Vordak the Incomprehensible: Rule the School

Vordak has gotten a bit out of shape from when he was an evil mastermind. Now he’s too lazy to do anything but lie around all day. So, he builds an age altering device so he can make himself younger, but is too impatient to test it. This results in him being reverted to his teenage years. Unfortunately, one of the key parts of the machine burnt out so he was stuck until he could find another one, which is a few blocks away at a middle school.

So Vordak the Incomprehensible attends middle school, which is much harder than he remembered. Vordak still has to find the part he needs. And the teachers obviously have something against him; why else would they give him such bad grades? Soon his plan is more than finding the new part. It’s also about humiliating his mortal enemy; Commander Virtue. With his complex plans, there is no way he couldn’t defeat Commander Virtue, right?

I like the first Vordak book better, but this one was good, too. The first book was a manual for supervillains, but this book is more like a story. It doesn’t give you any evil advice, which disappointed me, but I can still get that from Vordak’s blog. I’d recommend this book to readers who like humorous stories about evil-doers with big helmets!

Gina’s serious about the blog, which is called Glorious Me. In linking to it, I was not surprised to find Vordak answering a letter last week which asked:

Magnificently Handsome and Majestically Evil Vordak,

My mortal enemy comes to my neighborhood, and I forgot to charge my death ray. What do I do?

Gina, age 11

I’m not sure what’s more alarming: the fact that my 11 year old daughter writes to fictional villains for advice or the fact that she has a mortal enemy! As for the death ray – so THAT’S what she and my husband were building in the garage. Aha!

Who's YOUR Doctor?

2011-09-23T06:00:00.003-04:00

Among my accomplishments this summer, I count the conversion of both daughters into Doctor Who fans. This was a big deal to me, because I spent a great deal of my youth watching this man:

That’s the Doctor, played by Tom Baker from 1974 to 1981. I did watch the show after the Doctor regenerated (ie: was replaced by a new actor, Peter Davison). However, the next Doctor never won my heart. Although I can easily recount any number of plotlines that starred Tom Baker, I can’t recall any adventures of Doctor Who when he was played by Peter Davison.

Up until recently, I would have said Tom Baker was MY Doctor.

But then, BBC resurrected the series in 2005 with Christopher Eccleston playing the Doctor. Wow – a tough-looking Doctor in a leather coat! I liked him! But he only lasted one season, and I was sure I wouldn’t take to the new Doctor, David Tennant, and I quit watching the new series in 2006.

But I was wrong. After rediscovering the shows this summer with my daughters, I think David Tennant has become MY Doctor, although the newest one, Matt Smith, is growing on me, too. David Tennant wins for sexy though, because Matt Smith has a funny-shaped face and invisible eyebrows.

And how weird to think of the Doctor as sexy at all? The classic series avoided the subject entirely (which was fine for my teenage self). Although he always traveled with a young female companion, there was never the slightest suggestion of hanky-panky in the TARDIS. But the new Doctor?

Rose Tyler was in love with him, and most fans believe he was in love with her. Martha Jones had an unrequited crush on him, and Amy Pond tried to seduce him when she had cold feet about marrying Rory. River Song claims she had a long term love affair with him, hints they were even married, but it’s her past and his future, so that remains to be seen.

With the TARDIS turning into Peyton Place, it was a breath of fresh air to have Donna Noble on board in Season 4. She was the only companion in the new series not to have the hots for him! Good thing they laid down the ground rules from the start:

The Doctor: ...With Martha, like I said, it got... complicated. And that was all my fault. I just want a mate.

Donna: You just want … to mate?!?!

The Doctor: I just want a mate!

Donna: You're not mating with me, sunshine!!

The Doctor: A mate! I want a mate!

Donna: Well, just as well, cos I'm not having any of that nonsense! You're just a long streak of nothing! Alien nothing!

The Doctor: Well there we are then.

So, are you a fan of the show? If so, who’s YOUR Doctor?

Outlining vs. Pantstering

2011-09-21T06:00:00.002-04:00

Are you an outliner or a pantster – or do you use elements of each? Have you blogged about your process?

I’ll be leading two writing workshops this November and examining how to build a plot through one method or another (or a clever combination of both). The first workshop is at the Avon Grove Library on Saturday, November 5 to kick off Nanowrimo. I’ll be addressing outlines and “writing by the seat of your pants” as they pertain to creating a first draft, followed by a session for participants to write and/or critique each other’s work. The workshop is open to both teen and adult writers.

The second event is the following weekend at the Lititz Kid Lit Festival, in Lititz, PA. If you live anywhere near south-east-central Pennsylvania, you might want to check out this event put on by the independent store, Aaron’s Books. This year, Aaron’s Books has teamed up with Linden Hall School for Girls to sponsor three days’ worth of writing/reading events – including workshops, panels, and book signings. I’ll be running a workshop on Outlining vs Pantstering as it pertains not only to the first draft, but also to revisions.

Now, I’m a flagrant pantster, although I do use outlining before, during, and after I create the mess I call a first draft. Once or twice, I’ve even outlined the whole book before starting, only to find that created just as big a mess. For me, the key to the whole process is knowing when to plan and when to go with your gut – and always expecting and accepting that the first draft is going to be awful.

I’ll be researching this topic over the next couple months, and I want to create a page on my website full of links to blogs discussing this topic. So, if you have a blog post on the subject, please leave me a link in the comments, and I’ll be sure to include it!

Back to the Caged Graves

2011-09-19T06:00:00.004-04:00

Last week, I signed the contract to publish The Caged Graves with Clarion. With the book on its way to publication, it seemed an appropriate time for a pilgrimage back to the place that inspired the story – Hooded Grave Cemetery in Catawissa, PA.

I knew, going back, that it was going to look different to me this time. I fictionalized the setting when I wrote the story, changing the geography around quite a bit. For almost two years, I’ve been picturing those two graves outside a cemetery wall at the bottom of a long steep road, between Ransloe Boone’s house and the Shades of Death swamp.

In actuality, the tiny cemetery is squeezed between a cornfield and somebody’s house, and across the road from an orchard. The church is long gone. Somebody cuts the grass, but nobody’s been tending the weeds inside the graves. It was quite sad to see. Both graves were damaged. One of the flying eagles was missing from Sarah Ann’s cage, and the wire had been bent and mangled on one side of both graves. It looked as if somebody had been pulling on the wire trying to get their hands in. (Or get their hands out!) In fact, the damage to the cage is eerily similar to an incident in my book, which is kind of creepy.

My first visit, 21 months ago, was on a bitter cold day in January. We didn’t stay long – just took a few pictures and left. This time, we spent time looking around and examining the other graves. I couldn’t find the graves of either of the husbands – Ransloe Boone or John Thomas. In fact, as I looked around, I realized most of the graves belonged to women and children. It started to creep me out, and I wondered why no men were buried here. Eventually, I did find two headstones for adult men – but all the rest were women and children.

There were a lot of open spaces between the graves, so maybe headstones are missing – crumbled and cleared away, or sunk into the ground. And of course, the mortality rate for women and children was higher than for adult men. Nevertheless, their near absence added one more unsettling element to this place.

All old cemeteries are fascinating to me. I love wandering through them, looking at the names on the tombstones and trying to figure out their stories. But Hooded Grave Cemetery seems to have more secrets than most. I could probably write half a dozen more stories inspired by the strange things I noticed in just this one visit.

Rest in peace, Sarah Ann Boone and Asenath Thomas. I hope I made up a good story for you, but I’ll always wonder what really happened.

Dating Your Manuscript

2011-09-16T06:00:00.004-04:00

Every fall, I hit a slump in creativity. There’s no mystery to it: the beginning of a school year takes a lot out of me. There’s a new schedule to learn and new students to get to know, not to mention I’m also a parent of two daughters starting their own busy school year. Luckily, by now I know it’s a temporary condition that will subside in a few weeks as I adjust to the routine.

So, I guess it’s a good thing I’m winding down my current WIP, finishing up the fifth round of revision and editing, tweaking details and trimming words before sending it to my agent. (Fingers crossed she likes it!) But I’m a little sad to not have a kick-ass new draft waiting in the wings.

I DO have a project started, but I’m not in love with it. I guess you could say we’re dating. I’m not very serious about it so far, and I’m not positive I won’t be dumping it eventually, but right now it’s better than spending my nights alone. I can’t commit to a new relationship anyway, since I’ll probably get an editorial letter for THE CAGED GRAVES in a few weeks. It could be sticky if I got myself involved in a love affair with new characters just when I need to spend all my time with some old, familiar ones. Kind of like an old boyfriend showing up and wanting to crash at your place just as you’re starting to get serious about a new guy.

So for now, I’m keeping it casual. You know, just spending time with the new WIP for fun with no strings attached. I’m distracted by the new school year, finishing up one love affair and anticipating the return of an old friend. Not the time to fall in love, even if I kind of wish I WAS in love.

How about you? Are you available and actively looking? Casually dating? Playing the field? Newly fallen in love? Or well into a long-term commitment with all its ups and downs, highs and lows, and countless revisions? Do tell!

Superlative Seven

2011-09-14T06:00:00.002-04:00

I want to thank Donna Weaver for passing along this blog award, which requires bloggers to look back over their blog history. It was a challenge to analyze and even guess a little at reactions to my blog posts, and I’m supposed to provide links to seven of my most superlative offerings.

MOST BEAUTIFUL: I only thought for a few moments about this one before selecting a blog post I didn’t even write. I’m going to bow out and award this title to my brother-in-law Larry’s salute to fallen comrades: Memorial Day

MOST POPULAR: According to Blogger stats, the most popularly viewed post is The Tooth Fairy Experiment with almost 8,000 views. I’m not sure I believe this, because some of Blogger's stats make no sense at all, even though I still tip my hat at the way little Gina outwitted her clueless parents.

MOST CONTRAVERSIAL: Nobody ever breaks out into nasty fights at my blog, because my readers are a genteel, classy sort of people. (C’mon, you know it’s true!) Yet I did witness a slap-down in another forum on this topic, and some writers do have strong feelings on the matter: What is the proper way to use Dialogue Tags?

MOST HELPFUL: Well, I have no idea which blog posts are most helpful unless you come back and tell me, but I thought this guest post over at Bring More YA to PA was pretty good: You Can Lead a Horse to Water – but you can’t make your character do something out-of-character.

MOST SURPRISINGLY SUCCESSFUL: Again, I’m going on questionable Blogger stats for this one, but I have no idea why Situation Comedy Situations gets so many hits, considering I wrote it late at night in desperation because I had nothing significant to say.

MOST UNDERRATED: I find that a lot of my historical posts overall get little response, but I think it’s important we remember where our current modern society came from, lest we make the same mistakes over and over again: 100 Years to Forget

MOST PRIDE WORTHY: There’s nothing to be more proud of then a community of people who have never met in person coming together to support one of their own. I was very proud to be a part of the Lenny-Lee-Fest in support of a super-terrific kid: Top Ten Reasons to Love Lenny

Now I’m supposed to pass this along to 7 other bloggers, who can take up this link-back challenge or decline as they wish. (I won’t be offended!)

Marcy Hatch

Creepy Query Girl

Linda Grimes

Susan Flett Swiderski

Christina Lee

Stina Lindenblatt

Sheri Larsen

In Memory, September 11

2011-09-11T09:00:00.000-04:00

I’d stepped out of the classroom for just a moment, to get a ream of paper from the supply closet, and one of my fellow co-workers stopped me. “You can’t tell the kids,” she said. “But something terrible happened.”

The events of 9/11 were already well under way, but that was when it started for me. Word passed quickly, from teacher to teacher, and soon a very brief memo came around from the office (email still being rather new and not often checked) warning us not to tell the students since we didn’t know if they might have families members in danger.

The day is a blur in my memory, but I remember the struggle to keep teaching, to keep smiling, to pretend everything was normal. Many internet sites were down, but my husband worked at a local ISP and through his site I was able to read the news reports as they came in – the second plane, the fall of the towers, the crash of the fourth airplane right in my own state. Whenever the students were busy at their desks, I printed out the reports and passed them to colleagues with no internet access.

And I kept teaching.

All day long, the intercom kept breaking into my lessons: “Please send Susie for dismissal. Send Johnny with his things to the office. Please send Mary and Sam. They’re going home early.”

My students were fifth graders and not stupid. “What’s going on?” they asked. “Why are so many kids being picked up?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. And then I added honestly, “I wish MY mother would come pick ME up.” They laughed. I didn’t.

At lunch time, one of the teachers tried to make her rabbit-ear television work, and we got brief glimpses of New York City. The principal stuck her head in the room and said quietly, “I’m not going to tell you what to do. But we have to finish out the day, and watching will only make it harder.” It only took a couple minutes for me to realize she was right. I returned to my classroom to figure out how I was going to keep on teaching that afternoon.

Toward the end of the longest day of my teaching career, we hit a snafu. The PTA printed up a half sheet of paper to send home that said: Due to today’s events, all afternoon activities are cancelled. That might have been fine for the first graders, but my students could read.

“What events?” they demanded. “What’s going on?”

One little girl looked me in the eye and said, “Something happened, Mrs. Salerni. Some of the teachers are crying.”

“Yes, something happened,” I had to say. “But far away from here, in another part of the country. You’ll see it on TV when you go home.” They barraged me with questions, but all I could do – following orders – was tell them they were safe and that it had happened somewhere else.

After school, I finally was able to let it out. I bawled all the way through the drive to pick up my own children in daycare. I had never felt so helpless and scared in my life.

Almost ten years later, in May of this year, I went out to the local convenience store and the young man behind the counter asked me, “Hey, aren’t you Mrs. Salerni? I had you in fifth grade, but you probably don’t remember me.” He told me his name, and I assured him I DID remember him. He grinned sheepishly. “I was kind of a trouble maker.”

“You were lively,” I admitted.

And then he got a funny look on his face. “They got BinLaden last night. Do you realize you were my 9/11 teacher?”

I remembered this boy, but I didn’t remember what year I had him. I shook my head. He went on, “I’ll never forget that day. You told us something bad had happened, far away, but we were safe. You were trying not to cry, but you told us we were all safe. I remember that.”

I tried very hard not to cry in front of him again.

First Impression #22

2011-09-09T06:00:00.002-04:00

Our final First Impressions for the month of September is the first page of Sheri Larsen’s YA Paranormal, GYPSY DOLLS: Carnival of Souls.

The last thing I expect to see is a dead guy.

Buses idle by the curbing. Newly falling mist dowses the vapors of diesel fuel, but does nothing for the sting in my eyes. My eyebrows ram together. Lines on my forehead mangle like wrinkly lettuce. With one eye cinched, I peer at the collage of jocks and their cheesy girlfriends huddled across the cramped parking lot, their figures miniaturized with all the distance between us. I squish their shrunken heads between my fingertips and thumb, imagining their faces deflating. It’s not like the splat of their heads would make a mess; there’s nothing between their ears but air and arrogance. One girl yells my name and gives me a perky wave. Not big on socializing and in no mood anyway, I slosh my combat boots in the puddles of September, switching my mashing fingers into a peace sign, and trudge past. It’s safer…for her. My fiery attitude needs to cool down.

Being accused of stealing tends to make me angry. Sure, I’ve had a slight bout with sticky fingers in the past—but that’s in the past. I’ve done my time at the Hinckley School for troubled teens, so Sue Rogers can take her surely accusation and stuff it. What would I want with her hairbrush anyway? Any idiot knows I only need her hair to concoct a good hex.

Waiting in line, I glance down at the patchwork of miscellaneous cracks in the pavement, each tangled crevasse looking as befuddled as I feel. My life isn’t exactly the poster pinup for the successful teen in today’s America. Actually, today’s America is hard to define since the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012 unearthed a new prophetic timeline and the CST—Council for Subconscious Thinking—was created a year later and implemented in schools to broaden the human psyche. Now, Elders—the government’s idea to guide Generation Alpha into utilizing more brain power, but I define as mind breachers—float around, poking their brainwaves and opinions where they don’t belong. The adult population is so wrapped up, thinking mankind dodged the End Times, they’ll agree to anything. They think we’ve been reborn, given a second chance—I’m thinking the umpteenth chance. Apparently, the Holocaust, Darfur, wars throughout history, and the escalating crimes that rock our world are only near End Times.

Living in the land of the free really isn’t free—at least of mind, anymore.

Okay, I absolutely love the narrator “squishing” the heads of the jocks and their girlfriends with her fingers. I’m intrigued by her “sticky fingers,” which earned her some time at a school for troubled teens. And I snorted at the idea that she didn’t need to steal Sue Rogers’s whole hairbrush to “concoct a good hex.”

There are some sentences that could come out of here for a cleaner, smoother text. After mentioning how the diesel vapors sting the eyes, the author could delete two sentences and skip to “With one eye cinched …” The sentences in between repeat the same idea and aren’t really necessary as a transition.

I wonder if the girl who gave the perky wave should be named, because in my first reading, I thought she was Sue Rogers. That didn’t make sense as I read on, and I had to go back to understand how the two paragraphs were connected. Alternatively, that girl could be left out altogether. Pretending to squish heads with her fingers is the act of an angry young lady, and the second paragraph explains why she’s angry. No need for a perky girl to interrupt that train of thought.

As for the next paragraph, it gives a lot of backstory all at once. I think it’s probably risky to load this much information on the first page. I suggest identifying the most important idea from that paragraph – the one thing readers need to know before moving on to the next page. Connect that to our narrator’s personal experience, and save the other details to be slipped in over the next few pages.

My final comment for Sheri is: Where’s the dead guy? Now, I don’t think everything has to appear on Page 1. But if the dead guy doesn’t show up in the first scene, you might expand on that opening sentence so we know when to expect him. (Ex: The last thing I expect to see is a dead guy at the bus stop … OR on my first day back at school …OR sitting behind the teacher’s desk … OR wherever he’s going to show up.)

Oh -- one more -- my final, final comment is LOVE the title!

Sheri, thanks so much for sharing your first page with us! Readers can find Sheri at her blog, Writer's Ally, and don’t forget to read Marcy’s critique at Mainewords!

Currently seeking submissions for October and November! See the sidebar for details!

First Impression #21

2011-09-07T06:00:00.003-04:00

Our second First Impressions for the month of September is a sample from the beginning of Nicole Zoltack’s middle grade fantasy, Elena’s Pen.

Mr. McMichaels has hated me ever since he confiscated a story I wrote during class last week. A story about an evil goblin warlord. Named McMichaels.

I guess I can't blame him, but wouldn't most English teachers love a student who wanted to be an author? Not this one. I was lucky he only threatened me with detention.

I took my time walking to my sixth grade English class, not looking forward to Mr. McMichaels and his evil-eye glare.

The crowded hallway slowly thinned out as sixth, seventh and eighth-graders swapped classrooms. A kid slammed his puke green locker shut, wafting the scent of body odor and days-old sweaty gym clothes toward me. I gagged and hurried past.

"Elena?"

I turned and spotted Artex, the new guy, down the hall. He waved a piece of paper in his hand. His lopsided smile was so inviting that I smiled back. "Hi." Why was he talking to me? I forced myself to not shuffle my feet or play with my hair.

He jogged over. Dark hair fell across his forehead and made him look oh-so-cute. "I think this is yours." He handed me the story I had started during science.

"Thanks." I shoved it into a notebook. "I guess I forgot to grab it."

"Poor Roderick. Fighting without his armor and his horse against three bloody pirates. I'm not sure he can handle them." He fell into step beside me.

My cheeks grew hot. "You read it?" My biggest dream is to see my name, Elena Streaming, on the spine of a book, but I couldn't let anyone read it!

I’m sure that most of us who were writing stories in notebooks in middle school can relate to Elena. I never wrote my teacher into a story as an evil goblin warlord, but I did write a lot of fantasies – and I was picky about whom I shared them with. And my daughter has been caught writing stories in the middle of class, so I know she would sympathize with this situation!

The first sentence gave me some pause. Something about the combination of “ever since” and “last week” struck me wrong. We don’t usually say “ever since last week.” So, why not say that she wrote that story last month, or the first week of school – just to make it seem like a longer time that this teacher has hated her.

As for the last sentence in this passage, is Elena saying she would never let anyone read her work even after it was published? Or just the stories she writes now, as a sixth grader? It made me think that for someone who didn’t want her stories read, she's awfully careless with them – both Mr. McNichols and Artex have managed to get hold of one. That’s just a little internal inconsistency Nicole might want to address.

I wonder about the new boy and his name Artex and whether its uniqueness stems from his connection to another world, since this is a fantasy. But of course, it’s too early to know much about him yet, other than he enjoyed Elena’s story.

Overall, the writing is solid, vivid, and a pleasure to read. Thanks for sharing your first page with us, Nicole! Please stop by Mainewords to see Marcy’s take on this piece, and you can find Nicole at her blog.

Why We Have Labor Day

2011-09-05T06:00:00.000-04:00

The end of summer, cook-outs, and retail sales – that’s what Labor Day means in 2011. Although most Americans make a point of enjoying this September holiday, very few of them know it began over a century ago with a violent fight for the rights of laborers, railroad cars, and a President’s campaign for re-election.

The first Labor Day was celebrated in 1882 in New York City as a workingman’s holiday and a way to smooth over relations between industry and the laboring class who were at that time unionizing to fight for decent wages and working conditions. The idea caught on and spread to other cities, even becoming a state holiday in several states across the U.S. However, it didn’t become a national holiday until 1894, following the Pullman Strike.

George Pullman was the inventor of the Pullman car (a luxury sleeper car) and the vestibuled train (where cars were joined together so passengers could pass from one to the other without stepping outside). Pullman built a company town outside Chicago, where he “shielded” his workers from labor unrest by insulating them from the outside world. Independent newspapers, public speeches, and town meetings were prohibited; homes were routinely inspected for cleanliness. Every aspect of the workers’ lives was directed by the company. An editorial in Harpers Weekly remarked that the power of Otto Von Bismarck, unifier of Germany, was “utterly insignificant when compared to the ruling authority of the Pullman Palace Car Company.”

When an economic depression in 1894 led to decreased revenues, Pullman slashed his workers’ wages, but continued to dock the same amount for rent from their paychecks. Prices in his company run stores remained the same. The workers elected a delegation to protest, but Pullman refused to speak to them. With no other recourse, employees organized a strike, and when the American Railway Union threw their support behind the strikers, their actions crippled railroad transportation across the entire country.

President Cleveland declared the strike illegal under the grounds that it interfered with delivery of U.S. Mail and sent 12,000 U.S. Army troops to break it up. The resulting violence (13 deaths and over 50 wounded) caused a wave of disapproval for Cleveland, who was accused by Illinois Governor Altgeld of putting the U.S. government to work for wealthy industrialists.

Since Cleveland was seeking re-election, he scrambled to redeem his reputation among the laboring class by moving legislation for a National Labor Day Holiday through Congress that same year. Nevertheless, Cleveland was not re-elected.

As for Pullman, he remained so unpopular that when he died in 1897, he was buried in a lead-lined coffin inside a vault reinforced with concrete and steel to prevent desecration of his body.

I don’t like to get too political or preachy on this blog, but suffice it to say I think every American should know more history – but most show too little interest in the subject. Enjoy your Labor Day, everybody, but KNOW why we have one.

First Impressions #20

2011-09-02T06:00:00.001-04:00

I’m starting September with a First Impression of Katie Loud’s novel, Unbreakable! Here is the first page:

(Susy; Emerson, NH; September, 2006)

I felt revulsion toward my son today.

There have been times in the past that Seth (and, to be fair, his siblings) has upset me … but never anything like this.

Never before have I been unsure I wanted to lay claim to him.

“He’s only twelve,” my husband told me when I called his cell in near-hysterics. “He doesn’t get it.” He let me rant for another minute before interrupting to say that he was calling the school as soon as he hung up to request that he be called first in the event of further disciplinary issues concerning our children.

Of course, I started laughing. “That isn’t funny.”

“Yeah, I’m getting the impression that you really feel that way,” he said soberly, only making me laugh harder. “Okay, I’m in the middle of a meeting, but I’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

“Is there any way you could pick the kids up from school?”

“Sure, no problem.” He paused for a minute. “Honestly, Susy, it really isn’t that big a deal.”

“No, it wouldn’t be to you,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended.

He didn’t say anything for a long second. “You’re not implying …”

“What, that you’d ever refer to a scholarship student as welfare trash? That you’d use the word spic? No, I know you wouldn’t. That’s the thing, we’ve raised a kid willing to bully someone because of their race or socioeconomic status.”

“He’s a good kid, and I’m not making excuses. I’m probably more upset about this than you are.”

“You just keep the histrionics out of it, right?”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “You said it, I didn’t. Seriously, I have to go, Suse. Eddie just came out and tapped his watch for the third time.”

I thought this was a wonderful first page! I loved the opening line, which caused my eyebrows to shoot up. What a daring approach, to start with a sentence which might evoke judgmental feelings toward the narrator-- although as the situation unfolds, I understand exactly what she’s talking about and sympathize with her.

The exchange with the husband is as revealing in what it doesn’t say as in what it does. I was particularly struck by the lines:

“Honestly, Susy, it really isn’t that big a deal.”

“No, it wouldn’t be to you.”

I get the clear impression that, while the husband can cover up his feelings with a socially acceptable persona, there is something beneath the surface – enough to raise “a kid willing to bully someone because of their race or socioeconomic status.” I’ve met people like this – people who smile and jolly over the unsavory opinions they have of others, but whose children blurt out those opinions without a social filter. I wonder what Susy will say to her son. I wonder what further conversations Susy will have with her husband and where they will lead.

My only editing suggestion is that this line is cumbersome: “He let me rant for another minute before interrupting to say that he was calling the school as soon as he hung up to request that he be called first in the event of further disciplinary issues concerning our children.” I understand it, but I had to stop and read it twice. You don’t want readers hung up on any sentence in your opening paragraphs, so you might want to break it up, maybe even turning it into dialogue.

Other than that – well done! Please stop by Mainewords to see Marcy’s take on the same first page, and you can find Katie Loud – also known as K.Lo – on her blog.

The second and third First Impressions for September will appear on Wednesday and Friday of next week.

The Phones

2011-08-31T06:00:00.001-04:00

When I posted pictures of the room we redecorated this summer for the girls, many people commented on the Red Phone on the wall.

Heather Kelly wanted to know if it was a direct line to the President, and J.E.M. wondered if it contacted Batman. That's the look we were going for! :) However, the phone is really part of the intercom system my husband installed in the house. The phones all call each other -- you just dial the extension for the room you want.

Here is the phone in Gina's room.

And there's even another Red Phone inside the Playhouse under the basement steps. (Ooh, remind me to tell you sometime how the Playhouse became the Murder House during the reign of Maui the Rabbit Killer ...)

I have a phone, too, but it's not very fancy. Bob is on the lookout for a more stylish, steampunk model.

Anyway, that's the story behind the phones. It's awesome to have such a creative husband! He's always coming up with some clever thing to make our home more interesting.

PAYA 2011 and Irene

2011-08-29T06:00:00.003-04:00

This Saturday was the second annual Bring More YA to PA Book festival (also known as PAYA), held in West Chester, PA and squeaking in just ahead of Hurricane Irene. Sadly, a number of authors had to cancel due to the weather-related difficulties, and some of the attendees didn’t make it either. But I was thrilled we weren’t forced to cancel altogether. (And actually, the smaller crowd made it possible to have more conversations with people.) Kudos to Skyanne for another wonderful event benefiting Pennsylvania libraries!

There were raffles of books and swag.

There was a goldmine of donated books for PA librarians to take (free of charge!) back to their libraries.

And of course, there were lots of YA authors signing their books. I enjoyed seeing April Lindner and Josh Berk again. (We met at the Drexel University event back in May.) There were authors back from last year, like Shannon Delany. And I had the pleasure of meeting Susan Shaw, Leah Clifford, Charlotte Bennardo, and Natalie Zaman – plus K.M. Walton whose book Cracked comes out in January of 2012. (She and I had only met electronically before!)

I walked away with signed copies of Sirenz by Charlotte Bennardo and Natalie Zaman and The Dark Days of Hamburger Halpin by Josh Berk. (But there are plenty more titles in my head I plan to check out on my Kindle.)

By the time I left the event, it was raining – but just a normal kind of rain. Plenty of time to get home, kick back with one of my new books, and wait for the storm to roll in!

As for Irene, her destruction was minimal in our area of southeastern Pennsylvania. No trees down in my yard, nothing broken or damaged. The power went out around 4am and was out for about 9 hours. We had a generator to power our refrigerators, so we viewed it mostly as an inconvenience and didn't have to worry about our food.

The scariest moment of the whole storm for me was when I walked outside the basement door into our sheltered patio by the goldfish pond and nearly stepped on a 6 inch black snake. I know he was just a little fellow sheltering from the storm, but I screamed and nearly climbed straight up a brick wall! *shudder*

Hope all my friends in the Bloggerverse survived the storm as well as I did.

Ta-Da! The Girls' Lounge

2011-08-26T06:00:00.002-04:00

One of my goals for the summer was redecorating "the playroom" upstairs into a teen/tween lounge where my daughters might hang out with their friends. For the seven years we've owned this house, "the playroom" over the garage was a complete shambles, filled with toys, crafts, games -- usually spread all over the floor. It was impossible to walk from one end of the room to the other. There was paint and nail polish spilled on the carpet -- and Play-Doh ground in like cement.

I DID NOT take a before picture. I would have been ashamed to show you.

But here are the AFTER pictures! "The Lounge" is now a room where the girls can hang out and read, write, or chat ...

... have a jam session with their friends ...

... and I'm happy to report that all the "little girl" stuff is not entirely gone.

Summer Goals Assessment 2011

2011-08-24T06:00:00.001-04:00

At the beginning of the summer, I posted goals for all the things I wanted to accomplish during my vacation. Today (probably while you are reading this), I am sitting in faculty meetings, preparing for the start of the 2011-2012 school year. For me, summer is over, so I figured it was time to report how I did.

1) I wanted to finish my first draft of VOLTAGE, complete one round of revisions, and send it out to beta readers. I did all this and more! I’m currently working on draft 4, based on reader feedback and my own gut instinct about the weak areas of the story.

2) My second goal was to get halfway through another project, which I was calling DOOMSDAY. Sadly, this story got trunked. It lacked a strong enough conflict to drive the plotline, and I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for revising/rewriting it. I spent a little time exploring an entirely different idea, but mostly I spent the summer with VOLTAGE.

3) I wanted to visit more blogs, and I hope I did that. During the school year, blog visits are generally limited to what I can do over my coffee in the morning and perhaps what I might read on my phone over lunch break. But never, ever during a faculty meeting. Nope. Not ever. ;)

4) My fourth goal was to exercise often. Um, let’s not talk about how badly I failed that one.

5) The final goal I posted was to redecorate the horrendous eyesore that we called “the playroom” into a lounge where my teenage and tweenage daughters could hang out with their friends. I’m happy to say this was a great success! Pictures later this week!

6) I didn’t post a sixth goal in June, but I definitely had one I didn’t want to put into print. I wanted to sell a book. And happily, I met that goal! If the announcement in Publishers Marketplace wasn’t enough to prove to me it was really happening, the startlingly fast appearance of THE CAGED GRAVES on Goodreads did!

So, tell me? Did you meet your goals for the summer?

Mystery Fish (from Outer Space)

2011-08-22T06:00:00.005-04:00

Can anyone identify this species of fish?

About three years ago, approximately 2 dozen of these fish appeared suddenly in our pond. They were about ½ inch long when we first spotted them, and in the past 3 years, they’ve grown to 7-9 inches. Before anyone asks, our pond is a closed system with an upper pond …

… and a lower pond joined by a pump.

These fish look nothing like any other fish we have, so they weren’t babies of our existing fish. It’s as if they just dropped from the sky (or outer space). Now, my friend Kelley Crist did admit to sneaking into our yard when we weren’t home one year and depositing a bucket of frogs in our pond (No, I don’t know why, either. Ask her.), but she adamantly denies delivering these fish.

They are all dark-green to black in color. Some of them have a silver streak along their backs at the base of the top fin. (Military rank?) We wanted to catch one of those to photograph, but they were too quick. Our regular goldfish are dumb enough to be caught by a net again and again, but not these mystery fish and especially the striped ones. (It’s as if their mother ship warned them about this.)

Now, brace yourself for the weirdest part of this story. In the fall of the year they first appeared, we decided to drain the upper pond and clear out the algae. As the water level dropped, we discovered another of these fish – living all by himself, upstream, in the upper pond. He was twice as big as the others (because he was their leader).

One more interesting point: When our pond was robbed of all the largest fish this spring (by a heron, a juvenile delinquent, or the Fish Rapture – don’t know which), these fish all escaped harm. They are all still here.

If anyone can tell me what kind of fish this is – or make up a ~~plausible~~ interesting story about how they got in my pond – I’d love to hear from you!

Thank You!

2011-08-19T06:00:00.000-04:00

I want to thank everybody who stopped by here in the last few days to offer congratulations. Thanks so much for all your encouragement and good wishes! I just love this wonderful writing community!

After the excitement of the past couple days, I'm going to take today off from the blogosphere, but I'll be back on Monday with ...

MYSTERY FISH FROM OUTER SPACE.

The News I've Been Dying to Share ...

2011-08-17T17:10:00.006-04:00

I love my agent, Sara Crowe!

Well, that’s old news. I’ve been loving her since a) she raved about one of my characters and offered to represent me and b) her sharp editorial eye picked out what my manuscripts were lacking and pointed me in the right direction to fix them.

But now I have a new reason to love her!

My historical mystery, THE CAGED GRAVES, has sold to Dinah Stevenson of Clarion Books (an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)!

From Publishers’ Marketplace:

WE HEAR THE DEAD author Dianne Salerni's THE CAGED GRAVES, in which a 17-year-old returns to her hometown -- where "the dead don't stay where you put them" -- to marry a young man she's met only through letters, an unpromising engagement complicated by another suitor and by her family's entanglement with a legendary treasure and rumors about why her mother was buried in a caged grave, to Dinah Stevenson at Clarion by Sara Crowe at Harvey Klinger.

I’ve been grinning stupidly for days now. This is an amazing way to end my summer vacation, and I’ll be headed back to the teaching trenches next week walking on air! Recess and lunch duty? No problem. Some of the supplies haven’t come in yet? I’ll manage. Don’t have your homework? Wait – that’s still going to be a problem, even if I did just sell a book. Sorry, kids.

THE CAGED GRAVES is fictional, but the story was inspired by two real caged graves in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. I’ll soon be planning another trip to the mountains so I can visit the cemetery and leave flowers for those two young women. I owe them big time!

Don't Forget Who's in Charge

2011-08-17T06:00:00.002-04:00

I see a lot of talk on the blogs about writing characters – especially establishing goals for your characters, putting obstacles in their path, directing your characters like rats in a maze by blocking the path and making them work harder to fight their way out.

Sometimes I wonder if the reader sees through all that plotting. The last thing you want is your story looking transparently like an equation: character + goal < obstacle = need for ally + escalate action > new obstacles = goal achieved + boy gets girl.

Writers want to build a world that is convincing and real, a world in which the reader can become immersed – and create characters the reader worries about every time s/he has to close the book to eat dinner, shower, or go to work. But I don’t think we should forget that the author is in charge on the other end – manipulating the reader. Yes, think of the reader as your puppet. You’re in charge of what they know and what they think.

A few years back, I was working on a short story for an anthology with editor Michael Katz. The ending of my story was a real dud, and we were brainstorming alternative endings (let’s call them A and B). I liked Ending A, re-wrote the story to incorporate it, and sent it to Michael. His response: “Wonderful! Much better! Now, re-write it again so the reader thinks you’re going for Ending B, while you’re really heading for Ending A all along.” And he was correct.

So, I’ve spent the last few weeks mulling over the beginning of my current WIP. I just wasn’t getting it right, and for a long while, I didn’t know why. I knew what my MC’s goal was, and I felt as if the reader would understand it – but somehow, the whole thing came out flat.

Then I realized. Who says the reader has to know exactly what his goal is? Yes, of course I need to establish his goals, determine his obstacles, and make sure all his actions are designed to overcome them. That’s my job.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t mislead the reader into thinking his goals are something else entirely. Something that already fits the story and makes just as much sense. Something that adds more tension to the opening.

Sure, I’ll reveal the truth along the way. But I’m the author. I get to say when.

The interactive Einstein blackboard above is from Hetemeel.com. The quote on the board is from The Producers by Mel Brooks, of course!

What Do You Think of Google+?

2011-08-15T06:00:00.003-04:00

When I first saw Google+ hitting the news and started getting invitations to join, I groaned. Facebook, yes. Twitter, I’m there. But ANOTHER ONE? I didn’t think I could do it. So, I deleted all the invitations and said, “The social networks stop here.”

But then, Tina Laurel Lee suggested a Google+ Hangout for our TPR group. If you’re not familiar with TPR (The Practice Room), check it out here. The brainchild of Tina Laurel Lee, TPR is basically a way to write in the company of other writers, separately but together, in a designated 1-hour session of concentration (no phones, TV’s, or internet allowed) and chat about it afterwards.

Google+ Hangout gives TPR a way to meet (occasionally) in a visual chat for a writing session. Imagine the Brady Bunch heads in their little square boxes, only everybody is busy writing in their boxes – taking a break every 25 minutes to chat, throw out a question, share a breakthrough or a frustration – and then returning to another writing session. People arrive and leave as suits their schedule. One of our Hangouts lasted for 2 hours of writing, with designated "water cooler" breaks to share.

So far, we’ve done this twice, and we’re planning another session for this Friday, August 19 at 2pm EST. (This is a change of date since my original posting -- We wanted to avoid conflicting with Write On Con.) If you’re interested in attending, contact me or Heather Kelly (Tina’s on vacation) for an invitation. Since this is my last week of summer vacation (quiet sob), I hope to set up some evening Hangouts once the school year begins, for those of us unable to make the afternoon EST times.

Okay, so I broke down and joined Google+, but the Hangout is the only thing I’ve done with it. Tell me, blogging friends, what else is it good for? I’d love to know what (if anything) you’ve done with it!

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

2011-08-12T06:00:00.002-04:00

One of my teacher friends (I think it was Tracy Litchfield) recently bemoaned August 1st as the death knell of the summer. I agreed. August does to the summer what Sunday evening does to the weekend. Then, of course, one of my parent friends (Michelle Gonnella) retorted that for her, August felt like Thank-God-It’s-Friday!

Yes, parents at home with bored, squabbling children are looking at the calendar and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. For us teachers – well, we see the light, too, but for us it’s an oncoming train!

I’m not complaining, because I was grateful to have these weeks off. Many of my co-workers worked their behinds off taking graduate courses all summer. Another whole bunch of my co-workers spent these weeks in the final stages of pregnancy or recovering from same with their beautiful babies. (Seriously, something must have been in the water at my building!)

As for me -- I always imagine I’ll set a rigorous writing schedule for myself – but that rarely happens. The sad fact is, if I have all day to write, I get very little done. It’s too easy to wander off task, get distracted, and holler: “Hey, Gabbey! Want to stream some Doctor Who from Netflix?” (She always says yes.)

By contrast, during the school year, if I only get 2 hours to write in the course of a day, you better believe I sit down and WRITE. Like many people, the more I have to do, the more organized I get. So, I have to admit that getting back on the train tracks might improve my productivity, rather than lessen it.

This summer, I met some, but not all, of my goals. Soon, I’ll share the details – but in the meantime, how is YOUR summer going? Do you see that light at the end of the tunnel? Is it daylight – or a locomotive?

Bring YA to PA: PAYA 2011

2011-08-10T06:00:00.003-04:00

I am excited to announce that the Second Annual Bring YA to PA festival is ON for Saturday, August 27th. Mark your calendars!

PAYA 2011 will be held in West Chester, Pennsylvania -- just a little south of Philadelphia. Writing workshops with some of the authors (including me-yay!) will be held from 10am-12pm, with author signings beginning at noon. At present, at least 18 authors will be attending -- and if it's anything like last year, the Festival will be a magnet for YA book lovers and bloggers from multiple states.

Last year, I was thrilled to meet Aine and Christine -- whom I had previously known only through their blogs -- and I fan-girled over Kristi the Story Siren so much I could scarcely sign her book!

Be sure to check out the Bring YA to PA website, and while you're there, you can read my guest post on why you can bring your horse to water, but shoving his head in the trough to make him drink won't help your story at all!

Hope to see you in West Chester on 8/27!

First Impression #19

2011-08-08T06:00:00.011-04:00

Our fourth and final First Impressions post for August comes from Matthew Reeves, author of the wildly successful cell phone novel Once Upon a Christmas Wish.

This sample is the first page of his currently untitled YA historical fantasy, set against the backdrop of World War II:

“Will,” a voice spoke softly, breaking the silence that had only moments before surrounded his thoughts.

Looking up, a small yet noticeable yawn escaping from his lips, the young man quickly found himself greeted by a familiar face.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” the flight stewardess asked, flashing a large smile.

It was the same smile from before.

Straightening up from his slouched position, he shook his head, “Thank you, but it’s alright. I’m fine.”

"Are you sure?" she said eyeing him, "There aren't many your age who can handle flying alone so easily."

"Yes," he nodded, flashing back a timid smile of his own, "Quite sure."

“Okay, but remember, if you should need anything, anything at all, I’m only a wave away,” she winked.

He gave another nod.

As the woman continued to move down the aisle of the plane, passing his seat and the vacant one behind, he let his eyes gradually follow after her. She had been the first person to greet him when he and the other passengers had boarded. Being as nervous as he was, he had blurted out his own name immediately upon seeing her. With a laugh she had welcomed him and politely replied with her own.

“Susan…” he whispered to no one in particular.

She was from Britain, the same as himself.

Yorkshire, to be exact.

Turning his head back to the window, he continued to stare out at the alien view that lay beyond the pane of glass.

“We should be approaching the Almaza Airport very soon,” spoke one of the flight attendants after peaking her head inside the pilot’s cockpit.

‘Cairo,’ he thought with a mix of anxious and nervous heart beats.

My first thought is that I’d like to visualize the setting a little more clearly, since I know it's historical. Although I’m sure the year will become clear once Will disembarks in Cairo, there could still be some hints here. For example, Will might see propellers on the wings of the plane out a window, feel the throb of the engines, or even straighten his tie and suit coat when he wakes up, (I imagine that is what he might be wearing in the 1940’s). These details will give us the sense right from the start of the time period. It will also explain the solicitousness of the stewardess, for Will is obviously not a small child needing her attention.

It might also be nice to have a more intimate glimpse of his thoughts, if only the tiniest hint of why he’s traveling to Cairo on his own – or excitement about the flight itself if this is his first time. (Is he sorry to have slept through part of it?) I want to like this polite young man, flying without any family with Egypt, and giving me a peek inside his head will help me connect with him right away.

In editing notes, “peaking” should be “peeking” and I would drop the word “gradually” from “let his eyes gradually follow after her” because I think it reads more smoothly without it.

Overall, the combination of World War II, Cairo, this young man, and the designation of the novel as “fantasy” pique my curiosity about the story! Thanks, Matt, for sharing your work with us. Readers, please check out Marcy’s critique on Mainewords – as well as Matt’s website. You can also find him on Twitter.

First Impressions #18

2011-08-05T06:00:00.003-04:00

Our third First Impressions post for August comes from Sarah Nicolas. This is the first page of her current WIP, Dragons Are People Too – a YA urban fantasy about a teenage weredragon operative for the US government.

Well, crap. Mission Intelligence got it wrong. Again.

I mean, seriously? Heat sensors? When your operatives have a core body temperature of 142 degrees, that should be the first thing you check for. I daydream about ripping Simon a new one as I scale up the three stories of crumbling stone.

So now I cling to the east stone wall of the Lebanese embassy in DC with a diplomatic document pouch hanging from my belt.

I am overly conscious of the two security cameras aimed at my back, despite the full-body black catsuit with matching ski-mask that Draconic Intelligence Command (or, as I liked to call it, DIC) requires me to wear. Sirens blare, telling me security already knows we are here, but I still can’t let them see my face. And, more importantly, I can’t let them see me change.

Beside me, Wallace scrabbles, then loses his balance and falls twenty feet to the ground, hitting the wall at least twice in the process. Rookie. His breath comes fast, but he is uninjured. He could probably fall from three times that height without a scratch.

“Kitty." Even his whisper has a British accent. He lies sprawled on the immaculate lawn of the Embassy and slowly makes his way to his feet. “I can’t make it without changing.”

“No!” I yell, then catch myself and lower my voice to something more like a hiss. “Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how many cameras are on you right now?”

All right, the first thing I have to say is that a weredragon named Kitty makes me giggle. It’s cute! As is the fact that Kitty calls her command organization DIC. (I assume it’s her opinion of them as well as an acronym.)

I wasn’t quite sure about the reference to heat sensors at first, but I think it means the Lebanese embassy is equipped with them, and they were immediately tripped by the presence of the two operatives – whose temperature runs hot even in human form.

Kitty and Wallace have obviously caught red-handed, climbing up the side of the embassy. They’ve been spotted by cameras, too – which seem unrelated to the heat sensors. Didn’t anyone scope out the cameras in advance?

The writing is smooth, and Kitty’s voice is clear. The author has raised my curiosity about the mission, the abilities of these two operatives, and if she’s already on camera, how she plans to escape without showing her face or her shape-shifting. Those are things I expect to be answered in the rest of the chapter.

The only thing that bothered me on the first page was how they were caught by cameras as well as heat sensors. How could DIC not have known the security cameras were there, recording their operatives? If that question is going to be answered in the story ahead, then no worries! Otherwise, it seems odd to me.

Thanks, Sarah, for sharing your first page! Readers – please chime in with your thoughts! You can find Sarah at her website or on Twitter. Don’t forget to stop by Mainewords to read Marcy’s critique of this page, as well.

First Impressions #17

2011-08-03T06:00:00.005-04:00

The second First Impressions critique for the month of August comes to us from someone I know well … my 14-year-old daughter, Gabbey. This is the first page of her fantasy novel, The Mirror’s Curse.

Must keep running. Have to get out of here. Have to get out of here.

The boy stumbled as he ran, weaving through the thick, snaring collection of trees, tripping periodically over roots and the uneven ground, his boots tromping loudly on the dried leaves that scattered the forest floor. His lungs burned fiercely, but he had to run. He had to run. It didn’t matter where.

Thoughts of Tibius and Ava whirled about his head, spun around him, chasing away the sensible thoughts that tried to cross his mind. Tibius was dead. Ava was dead. And he was next. At least, he was supposed to be next.

He knew they were still chasing him, and he knew escape was invaluable. But where was he to run? Finally overwhelmed by his fear and the responsibilities that had recently landed on his shoulders, the boy stopped abruptly mid-stride, unsure of where to turn. Blackness surrounded him, the trees seemed to mock his uncertainty. If he didn’t run, they’d find him. If they found him, they’d kill him. If they killed him—

His feet skidded along the ground as he began to run again, but he shouldn’t have given them the chance to catch up. The black shapes flickered in and out of his peripheral vision, and whenever he stopped to turn he saw nothing. A hand with claws like death shot out of the bushes and grabbed hold of his ankle.

He let out a startled yelp of surprise and fell to the ground, hitting it hard but barely noticing as he turned over onto his back and tried to pull from the grasp of his shadowy attacker. A long hiss made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he yanked himself free before scrambling up, stumbling towards the thick wall of trees, the sight of which he now welcomed.

There was a loud whoosh, and a hand grabbed hold of the back of his shirt collar. The boy thrashed and swung his fists blindly in a flurry of panic, but the person spun him around and hauled him up into the air.

The boy grabbed hold of the figure’s hand, twisting and trying to pry himself away, but the dark figure held tight as though he had fingers of iron. He, too was shrouded in blackness, just as the creatures around him had been—but even in the dim, moonless night, the boy recognized him all too well.

Gabbey has heard my response to this opening many times, so I’ll keep this brief and ask my blog readers to chime in with their comments and suggestions.

The passage starts us off with heart-pounding action and vivid imagery. I especially like “the trees seemed to mock his uncertainty.” Gabbey uses some excellent words here, especially verbs – but there are too many adverbs. Now, I’m not a writer who advocates annihilating all adverbs, but I do think they need to be used carefully. If you’ve got more than one in a sentence, you’ve probably got too many. I tend to overuse adverbs in my first draft, then weed them out afterwards. Sometimes adjectives need the same treatment. If Gabbey takes out some of the modifiers, her other excellent words will shine!

Be sure and check out Marcy Hatch’s comments on Mainewords. Thanks, Gabbey, for sharing your first page with us! (Love, Mom)