Monthly Archives: May 2010

The best part of being away from my writing… the only good part about being away from my writing… is coming back to it to find I actually like what’s already there.

Being too close to the work while also tackling some of life’s harsh demands, makes the process difficult and the prose less than poetic. Or so it seems. It isn’t until a break from the work clears my mind that the writing actually makes me smile. In relief.

I just finished reading my current chapter-in-progress aloud to Daughter who gave it the thumbs up. And when I asked what questions the scenes prompted in her mind, she told me exactly what I hoped to hear. Naturally, I won’t be answering those questions just yet. This is Romantic Suspense, after all. Knowing I was headed in the right direction before life pulled me away makes me eager to get back into it and see where these characters will take me next.

Man, I love my job.

I cannot say how sad I am to have seen the end of 24. I’m going to miss the tortured and tragic Jack Bauer. I’m going to miss the upright, uptight and downright loyal Chloe O’Brian. And, in truth, I’m going to miss the stress-induced asthma attacks and nausea of this show’s high-stakes and intensity-riddled plot.

In fiction, we’re forced to suspend disbelief. Many times during 24’s eight-year run, we did just that. Sometimes naturally, and sometimes as a sacrifice to the greater good. Yes. That means not all of it was believable… by any stretch. Yet, we remained loyal fans, knowing, in the end, Jack would grip us by the throat and take us along for the ride we were there to enjoy.

In the years since 9/11, when many people first imagined John McLane swooping in to wallop the bad guy and save us all, Jack Bauer has doled out his fair share of ‘justice’. And we cheered him on nearly every step of the way.

Would we cheer him on if he were a real government agent? Doubtful. But then, as Colonel Jeesep said, “I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it!”

Jack was our hero. Not because he tortured people. Certainly not. But because, through him, we knew someone was out there fighting for us. Fighting for what was ‘right’. Sacrificing everything he cared about for the benefit of his country, and often doing it on his own. That is, in the rare moments when Chloe didn’t have his back.

It wasn’t just the self-sacrifice and tragic lead character that I will miss. It’s the standing date my family and I had. Fine, our attention was riveted to the television, not to some gripping conversation about how our days were, but… and this is important… the show prompted conversations between us about fear, about right and wrong, about interpretation and about relationships – both healthy and not.

My daughter grew up watching 24. She was just turning seven when it first aired. Back then, we only spoke about it with her, she didn’t watch it. But soon, she was as interested in the real-time program as her parents. Eventually, she started asking questions. Real quality questions. And soon, she offered her opinions. Quality opinions. I remember how the wide-eyed and curious little girl who didn’t understand the depth of the storyline grew into a young lady who not only understood but could debate plot points and logic in the most thoughtful way.

I’m going to miss “24”. I’m going to miss Jack and Chloe and the exciting moments and conversations they brought into my home 24 hours a year now that they have…

shut it down.

Yesterday I decided to look over some of my past work and was reminded that I’d entered a couple of contests – synopsis contests, first 100 word contests, passion contests. What I found most interesting was not so much the final scores, but the judges’ comments.

In one contest, two judges read the first chapter from one of my stories. One judge had mounds of praise. The other, clearly, wasn’t all that impressed. Both, however, touched on the same issue and that was the takeaway for me.

In another contest, a synopsis was judged and I found a particular comment very interesting. One dropped word from that synopsis changed the entire meaning for one of the three judges who’d read it.  In changing the meaning for that judge, the missing word took logic and flow right out of the synopsis and she was left thinking I’d failed to tie up all the loose ends in a satisfying way. And, she was right. My fault. Instead of saying the villain was my hero’s “business partner”, I simply said he was my hero’s “partner”. When the villain did all of his crazy things and met his end, I, naturally, didn’t delve into the emotional trauma this would have for the hero on an intimate level. They weren’t lovers, they hadn’t been in a relationship beyond business. And yet, because of that one missing word, my synopsis left this one judge feeling dissatisfied and annoyed.

I know the written word is much easier to misunderstand than the spoken word. Because of that, I do try to say precisely what I mean. Unfortunately, that goal is not always met and so misunderstandings, misinterpretations occur. The best we, as writers, can do is aim for clarity. Write our stories, walk away and come back to them with fresh eyes. Chances are, problems will be more apparent after a break from the text and we’ll be able to make the necessary adjustments. Having a critique partner or two is also a tremendous aid in fixing issues like this – and others.

It’s not easy to put our work out there for scrutiny. We pour our energy, love and time into these stories, these characters that we develop from nothing, nurture and guide as if they were of our flesh. And then someone picks them apart, telling you what  “doesn’t quite work” for them. It’s hard to knock down that ego-protecting wall we build around us, but it’s vital to do so.

When I first read the comments from the judge who misunderstood, I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. When she mentioned, toward the end of her critique, that I would no doubt submit this work to a publisher open to non-traditional relationships, I finally realized what she thought. Confused as to why, I had to review what I’d written and that’s when I found the word “partner”.

It’s very simple – you cannot catch every glitch and you cannot please everyone. But we have to be open to criticism when we put such a subjective product out there with our names on it. Not everyone will “get it” the way we hope they will, but those who do will be your audience and it is for the sake of your audience that feedback of all kinds is to be embraced.

Keep writing! Keep improving! And keep an open mind.

So… I was starting to feel kinda lonely here on my blog since no one had posted a comment in quite some time.  However, I just learned that my “comment” option was not working properly.  Instead of posting comments, it was taking people to a blank page. Well, I am not tech-savvy so I cried and moaned to everyone I know who is. No one was able to fix my problem – not even WordPress.

Finally, I contacted the host of my website and blog. I know.  Duh. What can I say? I’m a slow learner. Anyway, they acknowledged technical difficulties and have now repaired the glitch in my blog.

Now… I don’t know if anything is going change or if people are going to flock here to read and comment, but at least the comment option is functional again.

Sunny day.  Birds singing. Great music on the radio (Tom Petty, in case you’re wondering). AND a blog that is now fully functional. What more could a girl want?   That is… at this particular moment… 

I just bought myself a NOOK. Cousin to the Kindle. I couldn’t wait to hold it in my hands, to turn it on and start reading.

The first book I downloaded was Jude Deveraux’s, Lavendar Morning. The second book I downloaded was Jude Deveraux’s, Days of Gold.

Sense a pattern?

I was concerned about purchasing the NOOK. Well, not about purchasing it, but about using it to read my books. I love cuddling up in the corner of my sofa with a cup of tea and a great read. Would I feel as connected to the story with an e-Reader? How could I? You can’t bury your face into it, you can’t smell the pages and you can’t fan through them either.

But so many of my friends are E-published and I wanted more than anything to take their books with me wherever I went so I could snuggle up and read. The NOOK surprised me. It’s not at all like reading a book via my laptop. That’s like working. The NOOK is the size of a book. I bought a case for it that opens like a book and I can hold it in my hands JUST LIKE A BOOK.

I have since downloaded… uploaded? …E-books I’ve previously purchased and stored on my computer. Now, I can proudly scan through the covers of my friend’s books. I can choose which one to read. Again. And best of all, I can carry all of those books with me wherever I go. They’re all neatly stored in a tiny file somewhere on my lovely little NOOK.

No. I can’t smell the pages, but I can flip through them. I can snuggle up and connect with the story the same as if I held a paperback in my hands. I will never give up my hardcopy books, but I’ve already fallen in love with my e-Reader.

Oh. And the case I bought for it contains a wonderful quote by G.K. Chesterton that sums it all up –
Literature is a luxury;
fiction is a necessity.

This mother’s day is difficult for my family since we lost my grandmother just weeks ago. She was 95 and until about a week before she went into the hospital, she was as with-it as anyone, of any age, could be. She was the one we’d go to and say, “Can you remind me to…. fill in the blank… because I know I’ll forget.” And she would always oblige. My grandmother was my buddy, my biggest fan, my sounding board. The hole in my heart will never completely heal and, in truth, I don’t want it to. It’s my tribute to the love she showered on me. She left a gaping void and no one, absolutely no one, will ever be able to fill it.

So she will be remembered on all days, not just on Mother’s Day.

Which is what I hope we all do for those we love. One special day to show love for our moms is wonderful. Moms deserve a full day – and more – to be pampered. But shouldn’t we all express our feelings on more than one day per year?

Treat each day as Thanksgiving, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day… and be thankful and thoughtful to yourself and all those around you. Time waves by too quickly to comprehend, until one day when you think back, you’ll realize and say, “Has it been that long?”

Don’t let it be too long between thank you’s and I love you’s. And don’t just use the words. Thank you’s and I love you’s come in many styles – flowers, calls just to say hi, a handwritten note, a visit, a chat over coffee. So many people stress about what to get Mom for Mother’s Day when, if you think about it, giving Mom just a little more of you throughout the year would make her wake on Mother’s Day knowing she’s loved not because the calendar says she should be but because you truly feel it in your heart.

Who could ask for more than than?

A few weeks ago, reality strangled fiction. Never before had I wished so hard the two could be reversed since my pen can only revise fiction. I’d rewrite it so loss wouldn’t take place, or if it had to, then all the main characters would be there in time and express their love and admiration without reservation, pride or any other obstacle to raw honesty.

I have no regrets regarding expression. My grandmother knew my feelings for her, I never kept them a secret. My regrets lie in time not spent. One extra phone call. Would it really have been so hard? A few extra minutes just sharing a quiet moment. What I wouldn’t give for the chance at both now. Though, I know, we can never do all we wish we could with someone, no matter how much we adore them.

And now, four weeks to the day since it happened, I still feel the pain and the sadness and, in a way, hope I always do to some degree. I never want to forget what she meant to me or how it felt/feels to lose her. She was that special and her loss is a reminder of how precious all we have truly is.

And yet, life continues. My story, however, has suffered severe neglect. It’s a new month, a new day, and for my grandmother, I need to make this story succeed. She’d always ask how I was doing with my book. And I’d always say, “I’m working on it, Grandma.” Well, I haven’t worked on it in a while but now is the time to roll up the sleeves and have at it again. She wanted me to succeed. She wanted to know about the stories I was creating, the characters’ problems, the happily ever after. She knew it was fiction, knew happily-ever-after is not a real thing, but suspended disbelief because she believed in me. So. I have a story to write. Characters to torture. Happily-ever-afters to create. And when the muse wants a day off, I’ll just remember the promise and have at it again.

I’m working on it, Grandma. For you. And it’s gonna be great.