Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Umph Gone

I tend to post in spurts. Not exactly an attractive thought, but there it is. Today I looked over my blog and realized I hadn't posted since September. Part of me isn't surprised.

My writing slowed to a trickle when my son Z was born in 2008. Now, with the birth of my twin girls in September of 2012, I'm afraid it's ground to a screeching halt. And what I've been thinking lately as I rock a child to sleep, fuss about toys that need to be picked up, corral dogs and worry about what I'm actually going to do in my day job that day; I've realized I miss the writer I knew. I very much feel like I'm no longer that person. She was a separate entity from silly little me with my permanent stress headache, far more gray hair and the worry lines around my eyes and mouth.

Even in the very rare moments of quiet I find I can't write even if the opportunity presents itself. I sit at the computer, maybe edit a page or two of one of the multitude of WIPs saved on my computer and can't find the umph to write. Forget romance. You have to feel romantic, feel loved and respected, feel sexy to write romance. Lately all I feel is tired and embattled.

So for those of you waiting for the next story in the series I had begun to come out, I apologize. There aren't many of you, so somehow I don't think I'll be disappointing many people. Readers have moved on, if there were any. I have the next story all mapped out, know what needs to happen, but right now my hero is sitting in a wheelchair, soaked to the skin and very drunk. My heroine is two rooms away trying to get some much needed peace and quiet while his music pounds away loudly. And they've been there for four years now.

Elyssa Edwards isn't doing much better. Her hero is stuck monitoring juvenile delinquents and she can't quite get him out of the scene.

So we plod onward, making no real progress and hoping and wishing for that magical moment when we'll feel like writing again, when we'll have time. Ah, the slippery slope that has killed many a potential writer's ambitions. But when I think of my former editor's admonition, "Butt in seat, fingers on keys" all I can think of is which fingers? The ones changing the diapers, feeding the baby, stopping the dogs from eating each other or the ones that long to go in my ears as I scream, "Lalalalalalalala" and pretend I can't hear the call of adulthood and responsibility shrieking in my face.

Exposing the Exposition

As a writer I can tell you I’m definitely not an expert. But as a reading and ELA teacher I can tell you that there is a bit of science to writing a story. For example, a story has five basic sections and all must be present and must transition, one to the other, fluidly. I'm not speaking of the elements of plot, the characters, setting, conflict, complications, climax and resolution. I'm speaking of the way a story is laid out, a line to follow in fitting it together. It is the first of these elements that I'd like to address as it is often the most abused.

One of the most vital parts of a story, and one that is often botched by authors for reasons ranging from lack of skill to rushing to lack of adequate editing is the very first part. The Exposition.

The Exposition:

The exposition is the hook of a story. This is the beginning portion of a book that is supposed to allow the reader to become invested in the story. A solid exposition will pull in a reader who must know more about what will happen. The exposition is the Who, Where, When and What. The Why and the How come later.

Who

A good exposition should introduce the protagonist, antagonist and the primary characters who will act upon the story. This doesn't have to be done as a big, simplistic meet and greet and the antagonists name doesn't even have to be mentioned. But he and any characters who will be central to the plot must be present. The shadow of their presence, their power, their affect, must be present. This can be through foreshadowing, through a revelation of actions or even a hint of their involvement even if they are never identified for the reader.

Where and When

Where does this story take place? Even if your settings will change or the main characters will be transported to another place and time, there must be the over-arching image of where and when this story is going to take place. Some time travel books include a prequel that occurs in the time the character is going to or hint at the future time by something the character is interested in, an object he or she handles or sees or by the discussion of an important event or person from that time period.

What

The what is critical. We don’t need to know what and how, but your reader should have a vague notion of what the basic conflict is of your story by the time the move from the exposition to the rising action portion of the story. The writer doesn’t even have to tell the reader the truth. Misdirection can lead the reader down one path they think the writer is following only to have the true path revealed later. But the hints of the truth must be there.

Remember the Sixth Sense? Ninety-nine percent of people watched that movie with no idea what the real “problem” was that Bruce Willis’ character had to solve. Yet when this was revealed, we could all look back and go, “Duh!” There was this hint, that hint, and several more along the way. We were surprised and even blindsided. That’s good, the truth was there all the time and the writer used misdirection to fool us. However, he didn’t pull the real “problem” out of his backside at the end.

As I said, I’m not an expert and the truth about rules of writing is that the best and brightest among us break them…or seem to break them all the time. But as I tell my students, you can’t break the rules until you fully understand what they are and why they are there. Then you will understand the difference between breaking them and twisting them in a way that delights and engages your reader.

A little bit of exercise feels good.

I don't mean the type of exercise that makes you sweat and makes your physical muscles ache. I mean the type of exercise that you do with your mind, your imagination and creativity.

I've been writing fairly steadily the last couple of days. A mere 4,200+ words at the moment, but it may just be a good start that leads to a good finish. Writers will tell you, we all have stories we started that we never finished. We all have stories we finished but which just sit there and don't ever find a home and often for good reason. Some are just never ready to be out their on their own.

This little story I've started recently has been brewing in my head for a while. It seems to be coming fairly easily and most promisingly the hero is very demanding. That is generally a good sign. When my hero is uncooperative, pushy and demanding it usually means the story will at least get finished. He won't let me not finish it.

How is he pushy? Well I had decided after a great deal of research just what name I was going to give him. You know that look someone gives you that says, "You have got to be out of your f'ing mind?" Yeah, that's the look I got. No, seriously. That's how he looked at me. Then he informed me that if I wanted to know his name I should have asked. It's Gideon by the way. And this is what he looks like.

Inspiration

I've been fairly bogged down with a serious case of blahs lately and haven't written anything new in about four months. But I've written 1500 words today on a new story.

I credit standardized testing. During standardized testing, students must sit in their homeroom from 8:05am to 11:22am and take the all important TEST. Now during that time, the teacher cannot sit at their desk, read, do work or anything else productive. We are not allowed to look at student answers or test questions. We have to "monitor". Yes, that's right. We have to walk around the room (don't dare sit down or it will be a testing irregularity) and make sure the children haven't suddenly forgotten how to darken in little bubbles with their No. 2 pencils.

What better time for a mind to start to wonder and begin creating stories that entertain the bored. We did not test today so during homeroom and my planning I mangaged to get 1500 words written.

Hodgpodge

There can be no doubt that the average man blames much more than he praises. His instinct is to blame. If he is satisfied he says nothing; if he is not, he most illogically kicks up a row. ~Arnold Bennett

I’ve been unsettled by some things I’ve read on blogs targeted at writers and publishers lately. The nature of a blog is that it is one person’s, or a group of persons’, opinions. My grandfather used to say that opinions were like …well, he was known to be a bit crude so let’s just say “noses”…everyone has one and a lot of the time they smell. But everyone is free to have one and make as much of a stink about their opinion as they like.

What is sad is when a group of individuals who are supposed to be articulate cannot find ways to express those opinions without resorting to the lowest common denominator and becoming crass and crude while attacking others in personal ways. We are writers, wordsmiths. We are supposed to be able to create coherent utterances and frame logical arguments. We do not need to get nastily personal or start flinging insults at people because we disagree with them professionally or because we don’t like what they’ve written.

That’s just my own humble opinion.

On the work front:

I discovered that I do get to stay at my school. Enough of the folks with more experience (who would have thought 8 years wasn’t enough to begin with) are leaving that I can stay. That having been said, it won’t be easy. We are dealing with a run-down building, larger class sizes (the state just upped our sizes due to budget constraints), teaching multiple subjects and grade levels. It won’t be easy and our principal has warned us that we won’t be able to complain when he comes to us and tells us we have two, three or even four different subjects/grades next year.



Well, on the mommy front:


Z is now a whopping 9lbs and 4 oz. That’s over two pounds since he was discharged from the hospital so I know we’re feeding him enough. He’s grown and is at 22.5” now.

The bad news from the doctor is that Z has colic and acid reflux. He cried for my SO, he cried for the nurse, he cried for the doctor. When we told the doctor he’ll sometimes cry almost all day with little catnaps, the doctor said, that wasn’t colic. The other questions we’d written down to ask led him to realize Z had acid reflux. He’s given him baby Zantac and said the gas drops and the herbal remedy were right on target only we should be giving him both about six times a day, alternating them in his bottles. I’m not sure yet if it’s helping, the only guarantee seems to be holding him. If Momma is holding him, he’s okay. He sleeps through mass for Momma. The only problem I have is if I put him down.

And he doesn’t cry himself out. He’ll cry nonstop for hours. I’m not kidding or exaggerating.

Samuel 1:27 “For this child I prayed; and the LORD has given me my petition which I asked of him:” And despite the minor problems we praise him and thank him for the granting of our petition and the bonus of giving us a healthy and strong child.

He has the cutest little birthmark on his belly in the shape of a heart. This picture isn't a good one of it, but it's a darkened patch of skin. I've outlined just beyond the borders.

I haven’t written a word and it is almost impossible to find time to even blog at the moment. I know the experienced mommies are shaking their heads at me, but yes, it’s my blog and I’ll whine if I want to.

I had a short story that was being considered for an anthology, but they wanted it to be longer. No problem, I can see just where it can be extended. Problem, I’ve got no time to do it. I’m not a person who can write on demand. I have to get in the right frame of mind.



I hope you’ve been checking out Anny Cook, Kelly Marstad, Sandra Cox and Jenny Beans. They always have good things to say.

The Joys of Painless FLE's

I have discovered the absolute, sure-fire, unbeatable way to guarantee you have pain free FLE’s. For those of you who may not be familiar with the acronym, FLE stands for final line edits. This is the last once over given to a book before it is released to the public. This is supposed to be the catch all for any errors that may have been missed.

I received my FLE’s for my next release, Soul Stone, recently. Or rather I received a note from my editor saying she’d gotten them and there had been only a few punctuations issues. Nothing for me to bother with at all. So, trust me I know from whence I speak.

Gather round now. The secret to having a guaranteed pain free FLE is…

Have a flipping amazing editor!

And I do. If you know the writers who work with my editor, H., you will notice a pattern. We all feel as if we have been blessed and are the luckiest little scribes about.

So the final chapter in the Jewels of Ursus trilogy will be released on November 19th. Soul Stone isn’t an Ellora’s Cave Jewel as the first two parts were, but is a stand alone novel. It tells the story of Tarris, the incubus who was raised by the shapeshifters he lives with. It will also answer the questions from the first two books about what really happened to drive the twins, Mark and Luke apart and what happened to the youngest Ursine brother who seems to be the cause of the bitterness.

I hope you will find it enjoyable and of course I will be holding a contest to mark the release with a prize. While not a Jewel, opals play an important part in this story and it will be a rainbow opal pendent and earrings that will be given away. So to whet your appetite for the delectable Tarris, check out the amazing cover above from Ellora’s Cave’s cover gods and the blurb. The cover was a dream come true. I begged for a particular model for the cover after myself and several friends who had helped beta read (proof read) Soul Stone saw the man on another cover and went, "Oh my God! That's Tarris!"

Blurb:
Soul Stone
Elyssa Edwards

He is physical perfection. He is sex personified. He is an incubus. All his life Tarris has followed the rules that would keep him from transforming into the dark soulless predator who fed on the sexual energies of women, draining them to madness or to death. But now that he can no longer feed in a safe and controlled way, he faces a choice: hunt or starve. Callista is quiet and reserved. Her restrained exterior hides an astonishing passion and vivid imagination that has captured him. Who knew that a creature that had no soul could love a woman so deeply? Tarris must now find a way to control the change he feels coming and defeat the hunter who pursues him, obsessed with possessing Callista and destroying the incubus.

Jae has a day out

First off: Contest. Still running. Win pretty necklace. Tell me, if you discovered your perfect man was a Were creature, what type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?
Email your answer to ElyssaWrites@aol.com by April 11th.

Had a very interesting day today. Okay, not so very interesting but relaxing and fun. We started the day with a matinee. I love movies but my SO isn’t so fond of them. So usually I’m on my own at the theater on weekends when work calls my Precious away. (I know Precious sounds silly, but you should see the reaction it gets. I’m certain the teeth grinding can be heard for miles.) It’s just one of those loving little things I like to do to show how sensitive and caring I am.

As I was saying I finally drug the hermit crab out of the house and to the movie theater today. I must admit that crabby was a good sport over all about it when I ignored the sarcastic muttering of, “Just wants to see it because he’s in it.” We went to see Nim’s Island. We both enjoyed it a lot. It was a nice family movie with no sexual innuendo, no cursing or violence beyond flying lizards. The film was charming and sweet. It was a big hit with all the kids sitting around us and with the adults too.

Nim’s Island is the story of a young girl who finds herself alone on an uncharted island after her scientist father becomes lost at sea in a storm. She turns to her literary hero, Alex Rover for help. Only Alex, he isn’t really a high-flying adventurer. In fact, he is a she and she’s an agoraphobic writer who hasn’t left her house for months. But with the imaginary Alex Rover coaxing her along, she goes to help Nim, who it turns out doesn’t need that much help beyond someone to comfort her as she fears her father is dead.

As a writer I found this movie interesting on a whole different level. It was a good movie and I think will be one that does well. But the character of Alexandra Rover, the writer –played by Jody Foster, was fascinating to me. Not everyone creates characters the same way. Just pop over to Amarinda Jones’ blog (she’s talking about creating heroes today in a very tongue in cheek way) and you’ll see what I mean. What struck me is that I could identify so strongly with this character. You see her main character, Alex Rover –played by Gerard Butler, is very real to her. She’s written him through several books and fictional adventures.

The film shows several scenes where she, the writer, is having an actual conversation with her character. Okay, hand in air, I do that. Not always out loud, but for me characters are these separate entities, these people that are born from my mind and who drive the direction of the story. They don’t always wait for me to tell them what to do. They certainly don’t wait for me to tell them who they are, they tell me.

More than once I’ve had a character drop a bombshell on me. Once, while writing a scene where two characters were talking about a girl who had died, the character that had been her fiancé suddenly announced that the girl had been pregnant at the time of her death. It explained the animosity and ruthless quest for vengeance in him that I had been struggling to justify. He did it for me.

So those of you who are writers, care to share your character “birthing” process?

After the movie…yes, I did finally get back to the day I had, we went for barbeque. Now I fully admit to being an omnivore and am not ashamed that I eat meat. I fully support animal rights and think that there should be stiff penalties for those who harm animals. I personally think Michael Vick got off easy, but that’s a whole different argument. But for me, there is nothing quite like the smell and taste of good, old-fashioned, slow pit roasted barbeque. Anny Cook recently asked in her blog what the difference was between St. Louis ribs and baby back ribs. I asked. The manager said that St. Louis ribs are slow pit roasted ribs that are cut from the actual rib cage. Baby backs are the lower ribs and are filled not with actual rib bones but with smaller bonelettes and cartilage. Either way, both are good eating.

I was surprised to see that Charlton Heston died. His politics couldn’t have been more disparate from mine, but you had to admit the man could command his time on the screen. He was a true King of the Epic. Where muscles, violence, and speaking very loud are what’s called for. To many people his is the image that first comes to mind when you think of Moses. He was Legend before Will Smith in the Omega Man. And he was the human ambassador to the future in Planet of the Apes. The final scene of that movie is iconic cinema.

I’ve lately become disturbed by the names of people I see dying or who are celebrating birthdays that have me shaking my head in disbelief. I don’t mean people like Heath Ledger whose death was a tragedy and untimely. They aren’t the old school actors that my grandparents watched, but are people I remember watching in films that came out in the theater or in first runs on television. Joan Jett is turning 50. Joan Jett. 50. Now I’m not saying that she’s an old woman. She’s not. She looks damn good. But 50? Am I really that old? Why don’t I feel that old? I grew up watching Joan Jett on MTV. The Runaways played at the first concert I ever went to without a parent along to chaperone.

I wonder? Am I beginning my midlife crisis? Am I allowed to have a midlife crisis? What exactly is a midlife crisis? If you can answer any of these questions, please do so.

The Loneliest Job

A few months ago I heard Holly Black, author of Tithe and the Spiderwick Chronicles say that being a writer was the loneliest of jobs. She pointed out that even in the most regimented of cubical infested offices you at least have the knowledge that on the other side of that cloth and Styrofoam wall is another living breathing human being.

As writers, often times we do work in a situation of isolation second to almost no other profession. Unless you are part of a team, you write alone, edit alone, revise alone and in many cases suffer the pain of rejections alone. It can sometimes be hard for a non-writing significant other or family member to get it. They pat you on the back and say, "It's okay. Just write something else," or some other inane but well meaning thing.

This makes the contacts we form with other writers and with our readers vitally important. Finding a first or beta reader is a difficult job for a writer. You can't simply ask a friend. What if your friend isn't into paranormal romance and you've just whipped out the worlds best were-opossum story ever to be seen? Your friend isn't into fantasy, and you've just finished world building the most amazing place filled with dragons and fairy-folk? You've written the best CSI type murder mystery and your friend can't even spell forensics, let alone understand the science.

I have to admit I’m lucky. I belong to an online workshop that lets me put my work up for critique. The workshop is fairly diverse and we have writers, poets and artists. Some write for fun and some are more serious. But having that support is important. My first novel, Access Denied, would never have been finished if not for the support of some members of that group who kept prodding me to keep going. Don’t tell their husbands, but they all admitted that they had fallen in love with my hero, James, and were going to make sure I finished it.

My current work in progress is about two chapters and an epilogue away from being finished. What is done is in the hands of two very special betas, my SO and a friend of mine named Steve. Steve is the king of grammar and punctuation. He's also the one who tells me when my male character is acting very male. My SO is the one who reads it and tells me where it doesn’t make sense. “But why would he use magic? Wouldn't it just be easier to walk over and set the table?”

*Sigh*

Halloween

I love Halloween. It is actually may favorite holiday. When else do you get to pretend to be someone (or something) else and it's absolutely okay-- and fun. You can be as strange, scary, sexy, outrageous as you want to be and it's all good.

This year's Halloween party came early for us in the form of a murder mystery party. The Immortal's Ball. The idea of the game is that you are an immortal (or one of the few mortals) invited to the annual Immortal's Ball Costume Party. Since it's a costume party you character has to come in costume. There is however, a problem in the immortal world as the mortal watchers, the humans who help keep the immortals secret, are being murdered. But who would do such a thing?

The party was fun, even if the turn out made it a bit hard to play the game. I went dressed as a leopard while the SO donned the garb of a demon-- horns, wings and all for which the best costume award was received.

I miss the days of dressup. In so many schools now of days there are not Halloween parades or costume parties. In our neighborhood no one goes trick or treating. I can't help but feel that in addition to the this being a response to the tendency of our society to cater to the most vocal of opinions rather than the most commonly held, it is also a symptom of the fact that we are pushing our kids to grow up too soon.

There was no excitement this week in anticipation. I've heard no one talk about what they were going to be for Halloween. It's actually very sad.I know safety is an issue. I know many parents are concerned about the unhealthy aspect of so much candy. I know there are those who don't believe in celebrating the holiday. It just seems that with the death of this holiday we are losing more and more of our innocence and wonder as human beings.