You have your traits, both positive and negative, plus their astrological information. Now the time comes to get physical. What sort of things do you need.
Age, height, weight, hair color, eye color are some of these things. I also must have a name for each of my major and minor characters. The walk-on people in my stories are usually given a job or a brief physical description. Like, the apple-cheeked clerk.
One problem with physical description is the way it's used. He was thirty years old, five foot eleven and a half inches tall, he weighs 180 pounds, his hair is blond and his eyes dark brown. While this gives a picture of a character, it's rather static and doesn't show the character.
A lock of blond hair flopped on his forehead. His dark eyes hardened with anger. This sort of thing gives the reader a picture and becomes an active part of building a character. The trick is to voice the description in a way that paints a picture and shows character.
Describing a character's face by using the features can bring a character to life. Her mouth formed a slash. Hands are another way to show character. Her nails, bitten to the quick, slender fingers plucked at his sleeve.
What one has to do when developing a character is to think active and not static. Long lists of physical attributes won't make a character come to life in a reader's eyes.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
More on Vogler - The Supreme Ordeal
Mr. Vogler calls what I consider the dreaded "Black Moment" as the upreme ordeal. I once wrote a piece called Is Your Black Moment Really Gray. I'm sure some bits and pieces of it are still floating around the internet and there is an expanded version in the book Jane and I wrote.
This is the moment when the focus character reaches rock bottom. The hero has lost the heroine. The murderer will escape. The prince or princess will never emerge from the dungeon. The build up to this scene should flow with tension like hovering at the edge of the cliff waiting to take the plunge. This is adrenalin time.
Mr. Vogler says the hero or heroine in this part of the story meets his or her greatest fear. The reader needs to fear and wonder if the character will suffer defeat or will triumph. Every story needs such an event. My own take is that this should be played out to the nth degree.
This is the moment when the focus character reaches rock bottom. The hero has lost the heroine. The murderer will escape. The prince or princess will never emerge from the dungeon. The build up to this scene should flow with tension like hovering at the edge of the cliff waiting to take the plunge. This is adrenalin time.
Mr. Vogler says the hero or heroine in this part of the story meets his or her greatest fear. The reader needs to fear and wonder if the character will suffer defeat or will triumph. Every story needs such an event. My own take is that this should be played out to the nth degree.
Monday, November 8, 2010
My Writing Life Nov. 8
To sum it up, last week was a great one. Heard that the entire collection of Katherine Miller mysteries will be available soon. Murder and Mint Tea and Requiem Murder are already available in electronic form and will be in print soon. The Midas Murders went live on Friday and The Hudson House Murders will soon be there. Both will be in print before long. This series is close to my heart since the stories began when I had the desire to kill my neighbor. The heroine is me, except that she was once a church organist and she is a terrific cook and plays bridge. None of these things are among my talents, though I am good with making cookies and cakes and sometimes pies.
What really makes me feel great is that this now makes five books released since the end of July. More promotion is needed so I keep plugging at these things. One of these days I'll get on track with that.
Another thing is that we may have a solution to the roadblocked Haverstraw Alliance thing. What started out as a good venue for our books turned into nothing. There are ways this can be done but someone there missed the ball. Will see what happens on this Wednesday.
Am almost to the two fifths point on Confrontations and it looks as though the book will end up somewhere between 70,000 words and 90,000 words. Thus it's taking longer than I wanted. The next project is ready to go but I have a philosophy that works for me. I do not even let a publisher know that I have a book for them until the book is finished to my satisfaction. Twice I have been blocked by someone knowing what I was writing before I wrote it and both times I couldn't work on the book. Somedays I envy people who have books sold before they write them. Most days I don't/
What really makes me feel great is that this now makes five books released since the end of July. More promotion is needed so I keep plugging at these things. One of these days I'll get on track with that.
Another thing is that we may have a solution to the roadblocked Haverstraw Alliance thing. What started out as a good venue for our books turned into nothing. There are ways this can be done but someone there missed the ball. Will see what happens on this Wednesday.
Am almost to the two fifths point on Confrontations and it looks as though the book will end up somewhere between 70,000 words and 90,000 words. Thus it's taking longer than I wanted. The next project is ready to go but I have a philosophy that works for me. I do not even let a publisher know that I have a book for them until the book is finished to my satisfaction. Twice I have been blocked by someone knowing what I was writing before I wrote it and both times I couldn't work on the book. Somedays I envy people who have books sold before they write them. Most days I don't/
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Six Sentence Sunday The Midas Murders
Here are the first six sentences from my latest release.
This year the Christmas season held little joy for me. There were a few brief moments of pleasure that vanished all too soon. Seeing a small child’s delight in the twinkling tree lights. Selecting gifts for my family, friends and neighbors. Watching my granddaughter perform the role of Clara in a local production of the Nutcracker. Those times did little to halt my feelings of regret and grief.
This year the Christmas season held little joy for me. There were a few brief moments of pleasure that vanished all too soon. Seeing a small child’s delight in the twinkling tree lights. Selecting gifts for my family, friends and neighbors. Watching my granddaughter perform the role of Clara in a local production of the Nutcracker. Those times did little to halt my feelings of regret and grief.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
First Chapter Saturday -- Refuge
THE HENGE BETRAYED
By Janet Lane Walters
Available from Mundania
BOOK TWO
REFUGE
ONE
ALIZAND
Alizand prowled about his bed chamber. He paused beside the window and pushed the heavy draperies aside. Another day of confinement. Since the day his step-brothers had invaded the suite, forcing Alizand to reveal his affinity for Fire, he’d been a prisoner.
At least the guards at the door believed he couldn’t leave. They didn’t know about the hidden sections and the secret rooms and passages to be found beyond the walls. Though Alizand could slip away, he should wait until night lest his room be checked. Dom Senet often made random visits during the day. Only when Alizand’s personal guard appeared could he escape these chambers. The corridors and places he could go had to be kept secret.
He was bored. He even missed the tedious lessons he’d been given by the clan elders during the short time he’d been acknowledged as his father’s heir. Having his affinity exposed had ended the dream of being deemed fit to become a prince. No one who could use one or all of the elements could rule the princedom of Wesren.
He stared at the tray on the table. A maidservant had delivered the food a short time before. Though he had eaten nothing since yesterday’s midday meal, he had no desire to break his fast.
The back of Alizand’s neck prickled. Trouble approached. Which of the many enemies he’d collected in his fourteen years of life came to upset his day?
The door opened. Before the guard could announce the visitor, a tall man entered. His ash blond hair hung in a single braid. Black leather riding clothes gleamed in the light from candles set in glass-shielded sconces on the wall. His dark green eyes sought and held Alizand’s gaze.
A smile appeared on Dom Senet’s face. Alizand felt like a tabby surrounded by a pack of ratis. He forced himself to breathe. How could one man raise such a high degree of terror? Though Alizand’s legs felt unsteady, he forced himself to remain on his feet.
“Dom Senet.” A sense of pride filled Alizand’s thoughts. His voice hadn’t cracked or risen to a high pitch to reveal his inner quaking.
The dom stroked the multi-colored gem he wore about his neck. The gold chain glinted. “I have questions for you to answer.”
Questions, Alizand thought. What kind of trick was this? He couldn’t relax his barriers or forget his suspicions of the dom. Was this a new way to fool him into becoming the dom’s puppet? Alizand needed to respond. To remain silent would expose his fear. “What do you want to know?”
“About your kin, the children of your father’s step-brother. I have a great need to find them. Poor lost children who need a home and a guardian.”
Alizand’s hands clenched. His friends had saved his life when he’d been injured in the aftermath of the destruction of the henge. With them, he’d been Zand, a person and not a creature to be used. “I don’t know where they are. I told my father I didn’t and I say the same to you.”
“I think otherwise.” The dom moved closer.
Alizand clung to his determination to resist. He felt icy touches trying to push beneath his surface thoughts and invade his memories. He pressed his hand against the gem beneath his tunic and strained to hold firm against Dom Senet’s invasion. “How could I know where they’ve been or where they’re going? I’ve been a prisoner here for weeks.”
Dom Senet ran a finger along Alizand’s cheek. “And I imagine you have no idea how the child escaped the circle room.”
“What child?” Though he had released Ky, he didn’t consider her a child. The pressure in his head built until his vision and balance wavered. “Is there a circular room in your suite?” The pressure vanished so suddenly Alizand’s knees folded and he fell into the chair.
Dom Senet frowned. “Perhaps someone else is to blame.”
Alizand looked up. “Who?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll learn. As for you, your barriers are stronger than they were the last time we met. I haven’t time to break then now, but be assured when I return, you will answer to me.”
“Even if I don’t know the answers you want?” To Alizand’s surprise, though inside he battled hysteria, his voice remained calm.
“This much I can tell you. Your friends have left the city and foolishly chose to challenge me. They gave themselves away. Though they’ve escaped, they have nowhere to go. I’m leading a patrol of guards eager to receive the reward your father has offered for the return of his step-brother’s children. We will bring them back.”
His laughter sent prickles along Alizand’s skin. “Will you betray my father by taking charge of them?”
“Betray him? How? Your father is mine to move as I will. Once he sees these children have affinities, he’ll gladly name me as their guardian.” The dom leaned closer. “When I return with them you will come to me. Don’t think to flee. Remember, I touched your gem. No matter where you go, I can find you, unless you remove the crystal and suffer the seizures of destruction.” He strode to the door.
The door snapped shut. Alizand slid to the floor, grasped his knees and rocked. Why hadn’t he been told to hide the gem he’d received on his fourteenth birthing day? He’d worn the red gem proudly. Dom Senet had touched the stone and had made some kind of connection to Alizand.
What could he do? Where was Dragen? He needed his kinsman and protector. He had to let Dragen know about Dom Senet’s latest attempt. Alizand swallowed. He was more than frightened. Terror swept through him, causing his body to shake like the leaves of a tree during a windstorm.
Once his weakness passed, Alizand rose. He arranged pillows to look as though he hid beneath the covers and closed the curtains around the bed. He stepped into the closet and opened the door into the hidden room. There he took his sword from the sheath. For a time he danced flames along the shining metal blade the way Ky had shown him.
Was she all right? She had been his first friend and had trusted him before her siblings had. Where had they gone? How could he warn them about Dom Senet? He stared into the flames and thought about his friends. Bran and Jay had healed him after the rock had smashed him into unconsciousness. Ky had helped, too. He closed his eyes and recalled Ash. She was the image of her mother, a woman he’d seen just once.
Dom Senet hunts you. Over and over again he mouthed the words and prayed Ash would hear them on the winds. The sword grew heavy. He let the flames die and sheathed the blade. With weary steps, he returned to his chamber.
At midday a maidservant brought his meal and took the untouched morning food away. The door guard lingered.
“Kafene?” Alizand pointed to the two cups on the tray.
“My thanks.” The guard accepted the cup and closed the door. “Lady Melena leaves the palace today.”
“In the middle of winter?” Alizand asked. Though he had no love for his step-mother, to be forced from Cedris during the winter season could be a death sentence. There were few inns in the princedom to offer shelter if there was a storm. “How will she travel? Where will she go?”
The guard chuckled. “She won’t go far. Her maid obtained rooms at an inn near the southern gate. Several guards have bought release and have taken service with her. Once the midday meal in the great hall ends she will depart.” He drained the cup.
“Will her sons go with her?” Alizand prayed the bully boys would leave with their mother. If they hadn’t invaded his chambers and attacked him, he wouldn’t have revealed his affinity.
“Those two? Do you really think they’ll leave their comfort before they must?” The guard opened the door. “In the spring Prince Zedron will send Mandir and Lodar to their fathers.”
Alizand dismissed the guard. His shoulders slumped. Though two of his enemies would leave the palace today, his step-brothers would remain. He ate some of the stew, and then devoured the nut rolls. Had Melena left yet? He wanted to watch. He wiped his fingers and hurried to the secret room.
There he fastened the sheathed fire sword to his belt. Though what he planned wasn’t without risk, he desired to see Melena disgraced. He lit a candle and made his way along the narrow inner passages to the stairs leading to the hidden door into the courtyard. Before opening the door, he stuck the candle in a sconce and pinched the flame. After tapping the proper sequence on the tiles of the door, he stepped outside.
The air bore a damp chill. Snow flurried around him. With his back pressed against the stones of the wall, Alizand edged toward a place sheltered from the wind where he could observe the front entrance. He halted in a shadowed alcove beneath an overhang and waited. His gaze was focused on the heavy doors of the palace’s main section.
The double doors at the top of the steps opened. Melena appeared on the landing. Alizand’s father and step-brothers followed her from the palace.
“Be gone, Melena,” Prince Zedron shouted. “You are no longer my spouse and are no longer welcome in this palace. Stay at the inn, but as soon as the thaws begin, I order you to depart from Cedris and Wesren. Should you remain within the borders of the princedom beyond Summer Day, you will be meat for any man’s blade.”
Melena walked down the steps. Her back was stiff and her head erect. When she reached the courtyard, she turned. “Zedron, I curse you. May you never sire another and thus you will have no one to follow you.”
Her words sent a chill through Alizand. His father had two children, a daughter who could never rule the land and a son who was a halfling with an affinity.
He stared at his former step-mother. Rings glittered on her fingers. Bracelets flashed on her arms. As she strode toward the gate a gust of wind parted her cloak. Alizand stifled a laugh. Necklaces and broaches covered her chest. She was so laden with jewelry he wondered how she could walk.
She turned and held out her hands. “Mandir, Lodar, attend your mother as dutiful sons must.”
Mandir turned his back to her. Lodar laughed. “Mother, don’t be foolish. Why would we leave our comfortable place in the palace to live in a single room at an inn? In the spring, Prince Zedron will send us to our fathers with all honor.” He followed his brother into the palace.
“You’ll be sorry, all of you.” Melena’s voice rose in pitch as piercing as the howl of the wind. “A thousand curses on your heads. A hundred plagues to ravage your lands. I will not rest until I have revenge.”
A hand clamped on Alizand’s shoulder. Waves of panic washed through him. How could he run when his feet were leaden weights? “Who?” He forced the question out.
“Dragen, and you’d best be thankful. Lad, what are you doing here?”
Alizand swallowed his fear. He met the gaze of his kinsman. Weathered lines across Dragen’s brow and at the corners of his eyes softened the anger in his voice. White strands dotted his auburn hair. “I had to see her gone.”
“And so she is.”
“Did you know Dom Senet is also leaving?”
The older man nodded. “He’s gone. Left before the midday meal. Did the guards permit you to leave your chamber?”
“I used the inner ways.”
“Then let us return the way you came. There is much I have to tell you and I have orders you must obey.” Tension filled Dragen’s voice. He held his cloak to shield Alizand.
When they reached the entrance to the hidden ways, before tapping the bricks, Alizand scanned the area. As soon as the door opened he stepped inside. Dragen was at his heels. Alizand took the candle from the sconce and lit it. “What’s going on?”
“Wait until we’re upstairs.”
Alizand hurried up the steps and along the narrow hall to the secret room. Dragen pointed to a chair at the small table. “Sit and listen carefully.”
“Am I in danger?”
Dragen sat across the table. “Always, until you’re away from the palace and have mastered your affinity. While Dom Senet is gone from Cedris, I’ll have a chance to leave and speak to someone about the best way to arrange your death.”
Alizand swallowed. Every time Dragen mentioned death as a way to escape the palace and the dom, Alizand felt ill. How could he die yet remain alive? Did Dragen mean the affinity for Fire would be lost? There wasn’t time for more than one question. “Are you leaving Cedris?”
“For a short time.”
“Can’t you take me with you?” Alizand thought of what had happened the other times Dragen had been absent from the palace. Both times there had been trouble caused by his step-brothers. The first time, Alizand had fled the palace, and the second his affinity had been revealed.
“Lad, you must stay here. My destination has to remain a secret from Dom Senet. You will need a refuge while learning to use your affinity. Senet can find you through your gem.”
“I could leave it behind.”
“That might be the answer, but I don’t know what effect that will have on you.” The older man shook his head. “Might be the same as what happens to a dom or doma when their gem is destroyed. They die in convulsions. Another possibility is Senet finding the gem and using it against you.”
“We could hide it and I could sneak away.”
Dragen frowned. “Doubtful. The doms and domas who remain in his suite communicate with him. You will be missed and a hunt for you would begin. You must stay here.”
Alizand bit his lip. He would be alone and unprotected again. What if his step-brothers gained access to the chambers? If they tried to hurt him, would the guards step in? Even thinking about the possibility brought the urge to summon fire. “Couldn’t this person come to Cedris?”
“She would endanger herself. The doms and domas would recognize her. Senet would enjoy having her in his power. I’ll be away no more than two sevendays. Promise you will remain confined to your quarters.”
Alizand stared at the table. “What about Arrow? He becomes restless if I stay away from the stables for too long.”
Dragen tapped his fingers against the surface of the wooden table. “Night visits only. Take care not to be seen.”
“I’ll wear a dark cloak and keep to the shadows.”
“Good enough. Expect me back as I‘ve promised.”
“What if someone asks about you?”
“Tell any and all I’ve taken my war steed to the farm to give the stud service he
owes the guard.”
Alizand rose and embraced Dragen. For a moment he clung to the older man, then stepped back. “Be safe.” Alizand followed the older man through the secret ways and stood at the head of the stairs until Dragen merged with the shadows. When Alizand heard the door close, he retraced his steps, unbelted the sword and returned to his chamber. He took a book of adventure tales from the shelf. Perhaps in a story he could forget how alone and frightened he was.
By Janet Lane Walters
Available from Mundania
BOOK TWO
REFUGE
ONE
ALIZAND
Alizand prowled about his bed chamber. He paused beside the window and pushed the heavy draperies aside. Another day of confinement. Since the day his step-brothers had invaded the suite, forcing Alizand to reveal his affinity for Fire, he’d been a prisoner.
At least the guards at the door believed he couldn’t leave. They didn’t know about the hidden sections and the secret rooms and passages to be found beyond the walls. Though Alizand could slip away, he should wait until night lest his room be checked. Dom Senet often made random visits during the day. Only when Alizand’s personal guard appeared could he escape these chambers. The corridors and places he could go had to be kept secret.
He was bored. He even missed the tedious lessons he’d been given by the clan elders during the short time he’d been acknowledged as his father’s heir. Having his affinity exposed had ended the dream of being deemed fit to become a prince. No one who could use one or all of the elements could rule the princedom of Wesren.
He stared at the tray on the table. A maidservant had delivered the food a short time before. Though he had eaten nothing since yesterday’s midday meal, he had no desire to break his fast.
The back of Alizand’s neck prickled. Trouble approached. Which of the many enemies he’d collected in his fourteen years of life came to upset his day?
The door opened. Before the guard could announce the visitor, a tall man entered. His ash blond hair hung in a single braid. Black leather riding clothes gleamed in the light from candles set in glass-shielded sconces on the wall. His dark green eyes sought and held Alizand’s gaze.
A smile appeared on Dom Senet’s face. Alizand felt like a tabby surrounded by a pack of ratis. He forced himself to breathe. How could one man raise such a high degree of terror? Though Alizand’s legs felt unsteady, he forced himself to remain on his feet.
“Dom Senet.” A sense of pride filled Alizand’s thoughts. His voice hadn’t cracked or risen to a high pitch to reveal his inner quaking.
The dom stroked the multi-colored gem he wore about his neck. The gold chain glinted. “I have questions for you to answer.”
Questions, Alizand thought. What kind of trick was this? He couldn’t relax his barriers or forget his suspicions of the dom. Was this a new way to fool him into becoming the dom’s puppet? Alizand needed to respond. To remain silent would expose his fear. “What do you want to know?”
“About your kin, the children of your father’s step-brother. I have a great need to find them. Poor lost children who need a home and a guardian.”
Alizand’s hands clenched. His friends had saved his life when he’d been injured in the aftermath of the destruction of the henge. With them, he’d been Zand, a person and not a creature to be used. “I don’t know where they are. I told my father I didn’t and I say the same to you.”
“I think otherwise.” The dom moved closer.
Alizand clung to his determination to resist. He felt icy touches trying to push beneath his surface thoughts and invade his memories. He pressed his hand against the gem beneath his tunic and strained to hold firm against Dom Senet’s invasion. “How could I know where they’ve been or where they’re going? I’ve been a prisoner here for weeks.”
Dom Senet ran a finger along Alizand’s cheek. “And I imagine you have no idea how the child escaped the circle room.”
“What child?” Though he had released Ky, he didn’t consider her a child. The pressure in his head built until his vision and balance wavered. “Is there a circular room in your suite?” The pressure vanished so suddenly Alizand’s knees folded and he fell into the chair.
Dom Senet frowned. “Perhaps someone else is to blame.”
Alizand looked up. “Who?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll learn. As for you, your barriers are stronger than they were the last time we met. I haven’t time to break then now, but be assured when I return, you will answer to me.”
“Even if I don’t know the answers you want?” To Alizand’s surprise, though inside he battled hysteria, his voice remained calm.
“This much I can tell you. Your friends have left the city and foolishly chose to challenge me. They gave themselves away. Though they’ve escaped, they have nowhere to go. I’m leading a patrol of guards eager to receive the reward your father has offered for the return of his step-brother’s children. We will bring them back.”
His laughter sent prickles along Alizand’s skin. “Will you betray my father by taking charge of them?”
“Betray him? How? Your father is mine to move as I will. Once he sees these children have affinities, he’ll gladly name me as their guardian.” The dom leaned closer. “When I return with them you will come to me. Don’t think to flee. Remember, I touched your gem. No matter where you go, I can find you, unless you remove the crystal and suffer the seizures of destruction.” He strode to the door.
The door snapped shut. Alizand slid to the floor, grasped his knees and rocked. Why hadn’t he been told to hide the gem he’d received on his fourteenth birthing day? He’d worn the red gem proudly. Dom Senet had touched the stone and had made some kind of connection to Alizand.
What could he do? Where was Dragen? He needed his kinsman and protector. He had to let Dragen know about Dom Senet’s latest attempt. Alizand swallowed. He was more than frightened. Terror swept through him, causing his body to shake like the leaves of a tree during a windstorm.
Once his weakness passed, Alizand rose. He arranged pillows to look as though he hid beneath the covers and closed the curtains around the bed. He stepped into the closet and opened the door into the hidden room. There he took his sword from the sheath. For a time he danced flames along the shining metal blade the way Ky had shown him.
Was she all right? She had been his first friend and had trusted him before her siblings had. Where had they gone? How could he warn them about Dom Senet? He stared into the flames and thought about his friends. Bran and Jay had healed him after the rock had smashed him into unconsciousness. Ky had helped, too. He closed his eyes and recalled Ash. She was the image of her mother, a woman he’d seen just once.
Dom Senet hunts you. Over and over again he mouthed the words and prayed Ash would hear them on the winds. The sword grew heavy. He let the flames die and sheathed the blade. With weary steps, he returned to his chamber.
At midday a maidservant brought his meal and took the untouched morning food away. The door guard lingered.
“Kafene?” Alizand pointed to the two cups on the tray.
“My thanks.” The guard accepted the cup and closed the door. “Lady Melena leaves the palace today.”
“In the middle of winter?” Alizand asked. Though he had no love for his step-mother, to be forced from Cedris during the winter season could be a death sentence. There were few inns in the princedom to offer shelter if there was a storm. “How will she travel? Where will she go?”
The guard chuckled. “She won’t go far. Her maid obtained rooms at an inn near the southern gate. Several guards have bought release and have taken service with her. Once the midday meal in the great hall ends she will depart.” He drained the cup.
“Will her sons go with her?” Alizand prayed the bully boys would leave with their mother. If they hadn’t invaded his chambers and attacked him, he wouldn’t have revealed his affinity.
“Those two? Do you really think they’ll leave their comfort before they must?” The guard opened the door. “In the spring Prince Zedron will send Mandir and Lodar to their fathers.”
Alizand dismissed the guard. His shoulders slumped. Though two of his enemies would leave the palace today, his step-brothers would remain. He ate some of the stew, and then devoured the nut rolls. Had Melena left yet? He wanted to watch. He wiped his fingers and hurried to the secret room.
There he fastened the sheathed fire sword to his belt. Though what he planned wasn’t without risk, he desired to see Melena disgraced. He lit a candle and made his way along the narrow inner passages to the stairs leading to the hidden door into the courtyard. Before opening the door, he stuck the candle in a sconce and pinched the flame. After tapping the proper sequence on the tiles of the door, he stepped outside.
The air bore a damp chill. Snow flurried around him. With his back pressed against the stones of the wall, Alizand edged toward a place sheltered from the wind where he could observe the front entrance. He halted in a shadowed alcove beneath an overhang and waited. His gaze was focused on the heavy doors of the palace’s main section.
The double doors at the top of the steps opened. Melena appeared on the landing. Alizand’s father and step-brothers followed her from the palace.
“Be gone, Melena,” Prince Zedron shouted. “You are no longer my spouse and are no longer welcome in this palace. Stay at the inn, but as soon as the thaws begin, I order you to depart from Cedris and Wesren. Should you remain within the borders of the princedom beyond Summer Day, you will be meat for any man’s blade.”
Melena walked down the steps. Her back was stiff and her head erect. When she reached the courtyard, she turned. “Zedron, I curse you. May you never sire another and thus you will have no one to follow you.”
Her words sent a chill through Alizand. His father had two children, a daughter who could never rule the land and a son who was a halfling with an affinity.
He stared at his former step-mother. Rings glittered on her fingers. Bracelets flashed on her arms. As she strode toward the gate a gust of wind parted her cloak. Alizand stifled a laugh. Necklaces and broaches covered her chest. She was so laden with jewelry he wondered how she could walk.
She turned and held out her hands. “Mandir, Lodar, attend your mother as dutiful sons must.”
Mandir turned his back to her. Lodar laughed. “Mother, don’t be foolish. Why would we leave our comfortable place in the palace to live in a single room at an inn? In the spring, Prince Zedron will send us to our fathers with all honor.” He followed his brother into the palace.
“You’ll be sorry, all of you.” Melena’s voice rose in pitch as piercing as the howl of the wind. “A thousand curses on your heads. A hundred plagues to ravage your lands. I will not rest until I have revenge.”
A hand clamped on Alizand’s shoulder. Waves of panic washed through him. How could he run when his feet were leaden weights? “Who?” He forced the question out.
“Dragen, and you’d best be thankful. Lad, what are you doing here?”
Alizand swallowed his fear. He met the gaze of his kinsman. Weathered lines across Dragen’s brow and at the corners of his eyes softened the anger in his voice. White strands dotted his auburn hair. “I had to see her gone.”
“And so she is.”
“Did you know Dom Senet is also leaving?”
The older man nodded. “He’s gone. Left before the midday meal. Did the guards permit you to leave your chamber?”
“I used the inner ways.”
“Then let us return the way you came. There is much I have to tell you and I have orders you must obey.” Tension filled Dragen’s voice. He held his cloak to shield Alizand.
When they reached the entrance to the hidden ways, before tapping the bricks, Alizand scanned the area. As soon as the door opened he stepped inside. Dragen was at his heels. Alizand took the candle from the sconce and lit it. “What’s going on?”
“Wait until we’re upstairs.”
Alizand hurried up the steps and along the narrow hall to the secret room. Dragen pointed to a chair at the small table. “Sit and listen carefully.”
“Am I in danger?”
Dragen sat across the table. “Always, until you’re away from the palace and have mastered your affinity. While Dom Senet is gone from Cedris, I’ll have a chance to leave and speak to someone about the best way to arrange your death.”
Alizand swallowed. Every time Dragen mentioned death as a way to escape the palace and the dom, Alizand felt ill. How could he die yet remain alive? Did Dragen mean the affinity for Fire would be lost? There wasn’t time for more than one question. “Are you leaving Cedris?”
“For a short time.”
“Can’t you take me with you?” Alizand thought of what had happened the other times Dragen had been absent from the palace. Both times there had been trouble caused by his step-brothers. The first time, Alizand had fled the palace, and the second his affinity had been revealed.
“Lad, you must stay here. My destination has to remain a secret from Dom Senet. You will need a refuge while learning to use your affinity. Senet can find you through your gem.”
“I could leave it behind.”
“That might be the answer, but I don’t know what effect that will have on you.” The older man shook his head. “Might be the same as what happens to a dom or doma when their gem is destroyed. They die in convulsions. Another possibility is Senet finding the gem and using it against you.”
“We could hide it and I could sneak away.”
Dragen frowned. “Doubtful. The doms and domas who remain in his suite communicate with him. You will be missed and a hunt for you would begin. You must stay here.”
Alizand bit his lip. He would be alone and unprotected again. What if his step-brothers gained access to the chambers? If they tried to hurt him, would the guards step in? Even thinking about the possibility brought the urge to summon fire. “Couldn’t this person come to Cedris?”
“She would endanger herself. The doms and domas would recognize her. Senet would enjoy having her in his power. I’ll be away no more than two sevendays. Promise you will remain confined to your quarters.”
Alizand stared at the table. “What about Arrow? He becomes restless if I stay away from the stables for too long.”
Dragen tapped his fingers against the surface of the wooden table. “Night visits only. Take care not to be seen.”
“I’ll wear a dark cloak and keep to the shadows.”
“Good enough. Expect me back as I‘ve promised.”
“What if someone asks about you?”
“Tell any and all I’ve taken my war steed to the farm to give the stud service he
owes the guard.”
Alizand rose and embraced Dragen. For a moment he clung to the older man, then stepped back. “Be safe.” Alizand followed the older man through the secret ways and stood at the head of the stairs until Dragen merged with the shadows. When Alizand heard the door close, he retraced his steps, unbelted the sword and returned to his chamber. He took a book of adventure tales from the shelf. Perhaps in a story he could forget how alone and frightened he was.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Writing Tip - Dialogue
Last night while flipping the challenges I stopped and listened to a bit about the lyrebird and was totally amazed to hear how accurately this winged creature could imitate sounds. Just like the mocking bird does other bird calls. This leads me to think about dialogue. When we write dialogue in a story, we're imitating the conversations we hear between people. Usually we clean them up and remove all the extraneous bits the ums, the ahas, and the wells to name a few. Dialogue in fiction is often not true to what we hear in everyday conversations. This is not to say it's artificial, for the most part. Some writers have a knack for making each of their characters speak with a different voice. Sometimes the speeches of the characters could be interchanged with the speakers and no one would notice. So just what use does dialogue have in fiction.
Dialogue should do one of three things or all three if you are a clever writer. Dialogue should define character, give needed information or progress the plot.
As you revise each scene, look at the dialogue to see if it's necessary. Throwaway dialogue has no purpose in the plot. Check to see if the person speaking has become an individual. Does his or her words show suck things as social standing, education, age, choice of career. Also look at your tag lines. Using adverbs can tell you what a character is thinking as he speaks but it's better to let your words show what the character is thinking or feeling.
When Jane and I wrote Becoming Your Own Critique Partner, we titled the chapter on dialogue as Listen to the Mocking Bird. That's what a writer should do when using dialogue.
Dialogue should do one of three things or all three if you are a clever writer. Dialogue should define character, give needed information or progress the plot.
As you revise each scene, look at the dialogue to see if it's necessary. Throwaway dialogue has no purpose in the plot. Check to see if the person speaking has become an individual. Does his or her words show suck things as social standing, education, age, choice of career. Also look at your tag lines. Using adverbs can tell you what a character is thinking as he speaks but it's better to let your words show what the character is thinking or feeling.
When Jane and I wrote Becoming Your Own Critique Partner, we titled the chapter on dialogue as Listen to the Mocking Bird. That's what a writer should do when using dialogue.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Interv iew with Robert Hays
Today my interview is with a fellow Vanilla Heart author Robert Hayes. Though I've never met him I read his bio and am impressed with all he's been involved with in the writing world.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I probably don’t qualify as a genre author. In my fiction, I tell a story that I want to tell and it may not fit well into any particular genre. My three novels all have elements of romance, because I believe that love is a basic human emotion that plays a role in all our lives.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
To the extent that I have one, it chose me. In my first novel, Circles in the Water, I wanted to tell the story of childhood sweethearts and their little circle of friends, growing up in small-town South Carolina, and how their lives took different directions as young adults. Their story was essentially a love story, obviously, and that had to be the underlying theme. My second novel, The Life and Death of Lizzie Morris, is about the loss of a longtime mate—again, clearly a love story.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
At some point I might like to try writing a mystery novel. My latest work, The Baby River Angel, is tagged as a paranormal mystery—but more about that later.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
I like stories in which ordinary people living ordinary lives are the heroes. My favorite contemporary writer is Kent Haruf. His characters and settings could be any of us, in the places we live, facing the difficulties of life.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I’ve been a newspaper reporter, magazine editor, public relations writer and university professor and administrator. I loved being a reporter and I love both writing and teaching. As a journalist and academic I wrote a number of non-fiction books. I turned to fiction after I retired from the journalism faculty at the University of Illinois in 2008. My most successful book is G-2: Intelligence for Patton, a collaboration with Gen. Oscar Koch published in 1970 and still in print. But I’ve always liked creative writing best. I started writing short stories in the second grade.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Wow, that’s a tough one. Like most authors, I suppose, I tend to love all my characters. If I absolutely had to choose just one, I think it would be Mack Brown, the used-car dealer in Circles in the Water who gives young Jimmie Broder his first job and becomes an importance influence. Mack came about more or less by accident; I needed a character to help carry the story at a given point and hurriedly created Mack out of thin air. I think that gave me the freedom to sculpt Mack as I wanted him to be, rather than forcing him into a preconceived mold.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
My most important villain is Jaybo, the young drug dealer in Circles in the Water. Jaybo is a sympathetic character up to a point, but in the end does a terrible thing. He came about because such a role was essential to the story of young people surrounded by poverty, racism, alcoholism and drug abuse and, finally, rape and its terrible consequences.
8. What are you working on now?
I always have more than one project going at a time. Since completing a couple of short stories for Vanilla Heart anthologies, I’ve started three new novels. I like them all, so far, and eventually one will rise to the top and get finished first. One is the story of a man coming home after twenty years in prison, one is about race relations in East Tennessee in the l950s, and the third is the confessions of a convicted psychopath awaiting sentence.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
My most recent release is a 10,000-word short story, “Paco’s Visions,” in the Vanilla Heart Publishing anthology, Passionate Hearts. I’d started a novel about a small boy who had visions of the future and changed the direction of the story to make the primary focus his caretaker, Mama Jan, and her romantic interest—thus fitting the theme of the anthology. Paco still is an important character, of course. And his visions an important part of the story.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
My latest book is The Baby River Angel. I wanted to write about the people of a community coming together for a common cause. The cause turned out to be an abandoned baby girl found floating on a flimsy raft on the Ohio River and the community a small river town where residents had rarely agreed on anything. But they fear that if the baby falls into the hands of the child welfare people she’ll be called “Baby Jane Doe” and perhaps become lost in that impersonal system, and join forces to keep her presence a secret from authorities. Good things begin to happen and surprising alliances result. The story includes a bit of mystery, a bit of romance, a bit of the paranormal, and even a low-speed police chase. And there is a very happy ending!
It begins thus:
The makeshift raft, little more than a clump of brush, bobbed along in the ripples of the swift current close to the near bank of the river. When it was almost alongside the boat Birdie raked it in with his fishing pole, and the shallow reed basket lashed to two of the larger branches with a length of wild grape vine suddenly came alive. The two boys stared in fascination as he lifted a baby, its arms flailing, and gingerly pulled back a corner of the cocoon-like blanket to reveal the tiny face.
“Lordy, child,” Birdie said softly, “where’d you come from?”
“What is it, Daddy?” Birdie’s oldest boy asked.
“Why it’s a baby. Cain’t you see that?”
The boy looked momentarily chastened. Then he pushed closer. “Let me see it,” he said.
“Get the basket first. Set it down right there, in the bottom of the boat.”
The boy did his father’s bidding and Birdie very carefully lowered the delicate bundle back into the basket. The boy stooped over the squirming baby with an expression of awe and his brother, who had stayed back, crowded up beside him. Once within reach, the younger boy timidly lifted the edge of the blanket so that he could get a better look.
“Whose baby you think this is, Daddy?” the younger boy whispered.
“Now how would I know that? You seen it floating down the river same as I did.”
“I just wondered, is all.”
“Yeah, well . . . I just wouldn’t have any way of knowing. Sure seems like somebody was awful careless to let the little thing go floating off on such a flimsy little raft as that.”
The boys agreed. Yessir, it sure did look like somebody wasn’t taking very good care of the baby. How far upriver did he figure it had come from? Did he think maybe there was a nametag on it, like people looked for when they found a stray dog? What kind of baby did he guess it to be, a boy baby or a girl baby? It sure looked tiny, did he know how old it was? Did he suppose whoever lost it was on a picnic and forgot and left the baby in their picnic basket . . .?
“Now jest hold off with all your questions,” Birdie insisted. “I already told you, I don’t know any more about this baby than you do. All I know is it’s a good thing we seen it when we did.”
“How come you say that?” The older boy, again.
“Because it wouldn’t have lasted long on the river, that’s how come.”
Now the younger: “You mean it would have drownded?”
“Most likely, yes. If that little bit of a raft got tore apart on a stob or something. This basket might have floated for a bit, but sure not for long.”
Both boys were wide-eyed. Their daddy had just saved a baby from drowning and they had helped. Sobered by the weight of this reality, they sat quietly as their father turned the boat around and headed back down the river in the direction of the Cambria dock.
Back at the landing, Birdie gripped the basket firmly and climbed out of the boat while the boys held fast to the pilings. He rushed to Sam Gowdy’s bait shop.
“Sam,” he called, breathless and red-faced from exertion, “you gotta see this!”
Sam Gowdy was not a man to hurry. He took his time coming from the back of the shop. When he saw the child Birdie Wilson held in the basket his jaw dropped in disbelief. “Where ’n hell did you get a baby?” he demanded.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I probably don’t qualify as a genre author. In my fiction, I tell a story that I want to tell and it may not fit well into any particular genre. My three novels all have elements of romance, because I believe that love is a basic human emotion that plays a role in all our lives.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
To the extent that I have one, it chose me. In my first novel, Circles in the Water, I wanted to tell the story of childhood sweethearts and their little circle of friends, growing up in small-town South Carolina, and how their lives took different directions as young adults. Their story was essentially a love story, obviously, and that had to be the underlying theme. My second novel, The Life and Death of Lizzie Morris, is about the loss of a longtime mate—again, clearly a love story.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
At some point I might like to try writing a mystery novel. My latest work, The Baby River Angel, is tagged as a paranormal mystery—but more about that later.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
I like stories in which ordinary people living ordinary lives are the heroes. My favorite contemporary writer is Kent Haruf. His characters and settings could be any of us, in the places we live, facing the difficulties of life.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I’ve been a newspaper reporter, magazine editor, public relations writer and university professor and administrator. I loved being a reporter and I love both writing and teaching. As a journalist and academic I wrote a number of non-fiction books. I turned to fiction after I retired from the journalism faculty at the University of Illinois in 2008. My most successful book is G-2: Intelligence for Patton, a collaboration with Gen. Oscar Koch published in 1970 and still in print. But I’ve always liked creative writing best. I started writing short stories in the second grade.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Wow, that’s a tough one. Like most authors, I suppose, I tend to love all my characters. If I absolutely had to choose just one, I think it would be Mack Brown, the used-car dealer in Circles in the Water who gives young Jimmie Broder his first job and becomes an importance influence. Mack came about more or less by accident; I needed a character to help carry the story at a given point and hurriedly created Mack out of thin air. I think that gave me the freedom to sculpt Mack as I wanted him to be, rather than forcing him into a preconceived mold.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
My most important villain is Jaybo, the young drug dealer in Circles in the Water. Jaybo is a sympathetic character up to a point, but in the end does a terrible thing. He came about because such a role was essential to the story of young people surrounded by poverty, racism, alcoholism and drug abuse and, finally, rape and its terrible consequences.
8. What are you working on now?
I always have more than one project going at a time. Since completing a couple of short stories for Vanilla Heart anthologies, I’ve started three new novels. I like them all, so far, and eventually one will rise to the top and get finished first. One is the story of a man coming home after twenty years in prison, one is about race relations in East Tennessee in the l950s, and the third is the confessions of a convicted psychopath awaiting sentence.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
My most recent release is a 10,000-word short story, “Paco’s Visions,” in the Vanilla Heart Publishing anthology, Passionate Hearts. I’d started a novel about a small boy who had visions of the future and changed the direction of the story to make the primary focus his caretaker, Mama Jan, and her romantic interest—thus fitting the theme of the anthology. Paco still is an important character, of course. And his visions an important part of the story.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
My latest book is The Baby River Angel. I wanted to write about the people of a community coming together for a common cause. The cause turned out to be an abandoned baby girl found floating on a flimsy raft on the Ohio River and the community a small river town where residents had rarely agreed on anything. But they fear that if the baby falls into the hands of the child welfare people she’ll be called “Baby Jane Doe” and perhaps become lost in that impersonal system, and join forces to keep her presence a secret from authorities. Good things begin to happen and surprising alliances result. The story includes a bit of mystery, a bit of romance, a bit of the paranormal, and even a low-speed police chase. And there is a very happy ending!
It begins thus:
The makeshift raft, little more than a clump of brush, bobbed along in the ripples of the swift current close to the near bank of the river. When it was almost alongside the boat Birdie raked it in with his fishing pole, and the shallow reed basket lashed to two of the larger branches with a length of wild grape vine suddenly came alive. The two boys stared in fascination as he lifted a baby, its arms flailing, and gingerly pulled back a corner of the cocoon-like blanket to reveal the tiny face.
“Lordy, child,” Birdie said softly, “where’d you come from?”
“What is it, Daddy?” Birdie’s oldest boy asked.
“Why it’s a baby. Cain’t you see that?”
The boy looked momentarily chastened. Then he pushed closer. “Let me see it,” he said.
“Get the basket first. Set it down right there, in the bottom of the boat.”
The boy did his father’s bidding and Birdie very carefully lowered the delicate bundle back into the basket. The boy stooped over the squirming baby with an expression of awe and his brother, who had stayed back, crowded up beside him. Once within reach, the younger boy timidly lifted the edge of the blanket so that he could get a better look.
“Whose baby you think this is, Daddy?” the younger boy whispered.
“Now how would I know that? You seen it floating down the river same as I did.”
“I just wondered, is all.”
“Yeah, well . . . I just wouldn’t have any way of knowing. Sure seems like somebody was awful careless to let the little thing go floating off on such a flimsy little raft as that.”
The boys agreed. Yessir, it sure did look like somebody wasn’t taking very good care of the baby. How far upriver did he figure it had come from? Did he think maybe there was a nametag on it, like people looked for when they found a stray dog? What kind of baby did he guess it to be, a boy baby or a girl baby? It sure looked tiny, did he know how old it was? Did he suppose whoever lost it was on a picnic and forgot and left the baby in their picnic basket . . .?
“Now jest hold off with all your questions,” Birdie insisted. “I already told you, I don’t know any more about this baby than you do. All I know is it’s a good thing we seen it when we did.”
“How come you say that?” The older boy, again.
“Because it wouldn’t have lasted long on the river, that’s how come.”
Now the younger: “You mean it would have drownded?”
“Most likely, yes. If that little bit of a raft got tore apart on a stob or something. This basket might have floated for a bit, but sure not for long.”
Both boys were wide-eyed. Their daddy had just saved a baby from drowning and they had helped. Sobered by the weight of this reality, they sat quietly as their father turned the boat around and headed back down the river in the direction of the Cambria dock.
Back at the landing, Birdie gripped the basket firmly and climbed out of the boat while the boys held fast to the pilings. He rushed to Sam Gowdy’s bait shop.
“Sam,” he called, breathless and red-faced from exertion, “you gotta see this!”
Sam Gowdy was not a man to hurry. He took his time coming from the back of the shop. When he saw the child Birdie Wilson held in the basket his jaw dropped in disbelief. “Where ’n hell did you get a baby?” he demanded.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Characterization -- After Astrology
You've selected the Sun, Moon, Rising sign for your characters but there's more to making a character live and breathe than this. Look at the traits you've discovered and think of the kind of story you want to write. Not all the wonderful traits listed should be used to develop a character the readers will love. After knowing what kind of story you want to write, look at the traits you've listed. Pick one from each of the three areas. Now look at them again and find one of the traits that can be a problem for your character.
Suppose you picked a sun in Libra and have decided to use the trait of being able to see issues from all sides. This can be both a plus and a minus. Now you've given your character a Sagittarius rising sigh and have picked a love of justice for their trait. Give the character a Cancer moon with an emotional need for a family and you have ways to build in conflict in your character. Perhaps you don't need to pick a negative trait but you could use one from the Sagittarius rising and have the hero or heroine suffer from "hoof in mouth" syndrome. Having them at times speak without thinking of the consequences can make for some interesting times for the character and for the reader.
This should be done for all the major characters in the story. Though minor characters often play an important part in a story the need to develop them as extensively as you do the major players isn't necessary.
This is only the beginning of developing the people you want to tell the stories you have to tell. Next time physical descriptions will be spotlighted.
Suppose you picked a sun in Libra and have decided to use the trait of being able to see issues from all sides. This can be both a plus and a minus. Now you've given your character a Sagittarius rising sigh and have picked a love of justice for their trait. Give the character a Cancer moon with an emotional need for a family and you have ways to build in conflict in your character. Perhaps you don't need to pick a negative trait but you could use one from the Sagittarius rising and have the hero or heroine suffer from "hoof in mouth" syndrome. Having them at times speak without thinking of the consequences can make for some interesting times for the character and for the reader.
This should be done for all the major characters in the story. Though minor characters often play an important part in a story the need to develop them as extensively as you do the major players isn't necessary.
This is only the beginning of developing the people you want to tell the stories you have to tell. Next time physical descriptions will be spotlighted.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
More on Vogler
Approach to the Innermost cave is what this segment of the journey is called.
Does he mean a real cave. I use them in many of my stories because that is where the hero or heroine learns things. Actually I don't think this is what it means at all. This is the time when the focus character steps into the territory of the villain or the one of his biggest fears. This can be a scary place and comes just when the hero or heroine is facing their goal. The fear of failure plays a part here and builds to bring suspense to the story.
But back to caves. Caves are places of mystery, sometimes beautiful and sometimes deadly. There are also creatures in caves and a chance for solitary thought, something the hero or heroine needs. This is a place where the goal can be thought of and perhaps even changed. A cave also represents the womb and when the hero or heroine emerges they are in a sense born again.
Does he mean a real cave. I use them in many of my stories because that is where the hero or heroine learns things. Actually I don't think this is what it means at all. This is the time when the focus character steps into the territory of the villain or the one of his biggest fears. This can be a scary place and comes just when the hero or heroine is facing their goal. The fear of failure plays a part here and builds to bring suspense to the story.
But back to caves. Caves are places of mystery, sometimes beautiful and sometimes deadly. There are also creatures in caves and a chance for solitary thought, something the hero or heroine needs. This is a place where the goal can be thought of and perhaps even changed. A cave also represents the womb and when the hero or heroine emerges they are in a sense born again.
Monday, November 1, 2010
My Writing LIfe - Nov. 1
Last week was a rather slow one for writing but I had a bit of promoting to do. I can report that I am now a fifth done with Confrontations and hopefully by next week to make that two fifths. The story is evolving but that is the way I write. I'm not sure many people write this way. So many of my writing friends seem not to be able to move on until they have perfected the scene or chapter they are working on. That would drive me crazy. Isn't it wonderful that when one really becomes a writer they come up with their own way of doing things. I know in the beginning I read every book on writing I could find and sometimes I was confused. I also tried everything. Found some three by five cards the other day that I had been using to work on characters and a story like. Found charts, too using GMC. That only sort of worked. Finally I found my own way. I truly believe every writer does.
On my blog, the challenge to other writers didn't work so I'm going to start on Saturdays posting chapter one of all my books, one at a time. Flight is up and Refuge will go up next week. Since they're a series I decided to go with the first one first.
I am also a featured writer here I'm a featured writer here with a neat interview. http://vanillaheartpublishing.xanga.com/734845254/author-spotlight---janet-lane-walters/
Then for the six sentences I was silly and did the chapter titles from Becoming Your Own Critique Partner.
On my blog, the challenge to other writers didn't work so I'm going to start on Saturdays posting chapter one of all my books, one at a time. Flight is up and Refuge will go up next week. Since they're a series I decided to go with the first one first.
I am also a featured writer here I'm a featured writer here with a neat interview. http://vanillaheartpublishing.xanga.com/734845254/author-spotlight---janet-lane-walters/
Then for the six sentences I was silly and did the chapter titles from Becoming Your Own Critique Partner.
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