Chapter One
Los Angeles - July 2003
Zack woke up with a start, unable to see anything. Anything at all. Had the power gone out? A subtle vibration permeated the house. Earthquake? No. Earthquakes didn’t make the walls sing.
Something was wrong. With no glow from the digital clock or from his computer screen, Zack tossed his blanket aside and felt his way to the window. He pulled up the black roman shade and lifted the glass pane. The sweet fragrance of roses from the front yard filled the room. As he craned his neck outside, the second story view revealed a full moon but no street lights in the whole residential area of Granada Hills. Had all of Los Angeles blacked out?
Outside, the strong vibration shook the foliage of the eucalyptus trees. As far as Zack could see, the streets and houses looked dark and quiet. Too dark, too quiet, with no breeze, no birds, not even the chirp of a cricket.
Moonlight filtering into the room illuminated the life-size poster of Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider. As the vibration intensified, something familiar tugged at Zack’s mind. Ashley? His baby sister screeched for help in his head! She was terrified.
Rushing out of the bedroom, Zack stumbled over his sneakers and stepped into the ink black hallway. The vibration shook the hardwood under his bare feet. The smell of burnt rubber or heated machinery assaulted his nostrils. How weird!
Feeling his way along the wall, Zack turned the corner and saw an outline of white radiance around Ashley’s door. He’d left it ajar last night.
Wearing only his boxers and tee-shirt, Zack shivered when a malevolent breeze coursed across his skin, as if to keep him away. Was he dreaming? He bit his lip. It hurt, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Wide awake! His heart beat so hard, it threatened to explode.
Outside Ashley’s door, their Persian cat arched his back and hissed, spooked. His bristled tail rose straight up in the air, sparking with static electricity.
"What’s going on in there, Dude?" Zack whispered, his heart faltering. He swallowed with a dry throat, remembering the horror movies he used to enjoy watching. But this was no movie, and he couldn’t stand the thought of his baby sister in any danger.
Zack moved sluggishly, like through water with weights on his ankles. Had the air become dense? Had he landed in the middle of a strange videogame? Finally he pushed the door open. Blinded by bright light, Zack stood paralyzed. He tried to step inside, to no avail. His legs refused to move.
Unable to scream his frustration, he remained frozen in the doorway, immobilized by a strange force that controlled his body. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, the unobstructed view of his sister’s room chilled his spine.
Bent over the bed, a tall creature of humanoid proportions hovered above the floor, wearing a long, shimmering cape that accentuated its square shoulders. Seven-year-old Ashley, her blue eyes wide with terror, blonde curls framing her tan face, clutched her favorite Barbie Doll, her mouth open in a silent wail.
Get away from my sister, you freak! No word came out of Zack’s mouth.
The creature turned to face Zack. Under the hood, the bald skull glowed from within, blue, pink and green, like a see-through phone. The face had large oval eyes, milky skin, elongated cheeks, and a straight thin mouth etched with grim determination.
Hang on, Ashley, I’m coming. When Zack attempted to rush the creature, his feet stuck to the floor. He tried to yell but his vocal cords remained mute. He wanted to break the freak’s skull, bloody the monster’s small nose, make it feel pain. What did this thing want with his baby sister?
The creature turned its attention to a small device it held in spidery fingers. The bright light shrunk to a wide oblique beam that angled out through the gaping window. Beyond it, an ominous shadow hung above the house. The vibration emanated from it. Zack couldn’t believe what he saw. A spacecraft?
Howling inside, but unable to intervene, Zack watched as the creature lifted his frightened sister from the bed. Ashley didn’t protest when the monster wrenched the Barbie doll from her grip and threw it back on the blanket. Then the monster stepped into the beam of light and floated out the window with its prize. The paralyzing hold ebbed. Zack staggered into the room toward the window. He wanted to call for help but his throat still refused to make any sound.
As Zack stepped after them into the beam of light, the creature had almost reached the waiting craft. The alien pointed a small device at Zack. The shot sizzled and shook him like an electroshock. Zack’s legs buckled from the pain. He hit the plush pink rug and darkness engulfed him.
Find this book and many others by Vijaya at Amazon.com:
https://www.amazon.com/author/vijayaschartz
Vijaya Schartz
Blasters, Guns, Swords, Cats, Romance with a kick
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
http://romancingscifi.blogspot.com/
http://ebooks99cents.blogspot.com/
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
How She Does It - Vijaya Schartz
INTERVIEW WITH SCI-FI ROMANCE AUTHOR VIJAYA SCHARTZ
Thanks, Janet, for having me on your blog. I love the cat, by the way.
Find Vijaya's books at Amazon.com:
https://www.Amazon.com/author/vijayaschartz
Q - We all know there are six elements in writing fiction and often fact. Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. I believe the first five lead to the sixth which for me is the plot. What's your take on this?
I believe there is a seventh element that follows these six primary questions. What comes next is WHAT IF? And that’s how I usually brainstorm my plot. After I have a frame, a basic idea of where the story is going, it’s fairly linear and predictable. So I start throwing obstacles and surprises in the mix to twist the plot. What if the villain is actually the good guy, and vice versa? What if the hero is not who he believes to be? What if the villain is actually her real father? What if she is buried alive? What if he is taken prisoner? What if... There is no stupid question when you brainstorm. I question everything, and often I find out so much about my characters and the possible plot points that I have to pick and choose what twists I’m going to use.
Q - How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific process?
I first ask myself what my main characters want, because that’s what will drive them throughout the story. Then I give them strong qualities that can be double-edged. If it’s a romance, I want them to be compatible in some ways and conflicting in other ways. Since no one is perfect, however, each hero or heroine should also have at least one fatal flaw that’s going to come up and foil their plans at the most critical time. It’s easy to go overboard with a good quality, and it becomes a flaw. Too much attention to detail can make you miss the larger picture, etc.
And since no one is totally evil either, I give my villains at least one redeeming quality and many flaws. Even a serial killer can love his mother, give generously to charity, or care about his cat. In the Ancient Enemy series, my villain, Captain Kavak, was dubbed the best (worst) villain of Science Fiction (according to a reviewer). That villain was bent upon destroying the human race, yet in her mind, she fought for a noble cause... the survival of her own kind.
Q - Do your characters come before the plot? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?
To me the two are linked. I give the characters a personality, then I decide of their circumstances, I know what kind of ending I want, and I reserve the right to throw obstacles in their way. But the characters’ reactions to circumstances and obstacles, their decisions and actions will determine the next step and consequently the course of the story. And sometimes, they surprise me with twists of their own, events or people I didn’t see coming. I love when that happens, even if I have to rewrite a chapter or two, because it usually is better for the story.
Q - Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?
Since I’m fiercely partial to satisfying endings, I know the good guys will win, I know the planet or the galaxy will be saved. Unless it’s a series, then one threat should remain, or I will allow one villain to escape to stir trouble again in the next book. And if it’s a romance, I know the hero and the heroine will end up happily together at the end. I hate it when the author kills the hero at the end. My readers would never forgive me if I killed my hero or my heroine (unless they can be resurrected - Sci-fi and fantasy sometimes offer that option). I usually know what tremendous event or battle or plot twist or struggle will determine the final victory. How will the characters get to that event? I have no idea. I trust that if I gave them the right personality, conflicts will arise, weaknesses will have to be overcome, and if I gave them the right tools, they will grow enough to accomplish the feat and get their well deserved victory and happiness in the end.
Q - Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?
Since I write mostly Sci-fi and fantasy, in futuristic or historical settings, it’s usually not a place I visited. I might have visited the ruins of a medieval castle, but I’ve never lived on a spaceship, or on a space station at the fringe of conquered space... at least not that I know of. My husband believes I’m a time traveler and I come from the future. They must have erased my memories, because I can’t remember that at all. New Earth, in the CHRONICLES OF KASSOUK series, is an imaginary planet. To remind me of what settings and characters look like, I make posters, collecting portraits and photos evoking the kind of surrounding I pictured in my mind. Sometimes I post these pictures on my website, when I do not yet have a cover for the book, so my readers can get a feel for the story by looking at characters and settings.
Q - Where do you do your research? On line or from books?
It depends on what I am researching. If I’m looking for pictures (I’m very visual) I research online. Then I make a poster for my new story. If my story is set in a known galaxy, I research that galaxy on reliable websites, (NASA, Scientific sites, Space discoveries, etc.) to make sure I have my facts straight. All this time, I think about the cover, because all my publishers ask me for input. Some say I’m lucky I have such good covers, but I don’t think it’s luck. I spend a lot of time thinking about covers and express the mood for the cover in descriptive words. Of course, I take into account the style of each publisher. When my suggestions are good and appropriate for the publisher, the cover artists usually get it.
But if I want to re-familiarize myself with the feel for a place where I’ve been before, I read novels set in that particular town or area, preferably from authors who lived there. If it’s a series, like the Borealis series, the Ancient Enemy series, or the Chronicles of Kassouk, I re-read the previous books in that series to refresh my memory. For Noah’s Ark, the Prequel to the Chronicles of Kassouk, scheduled for release April 1, 2012, I had to remember all the threads I had sowed along the four books of the series, remind myself of all the references to the past, in order to concoct a story that would take into account all the facts, legends, and beliefs I had created over the past two years. I know that if I miss something, my loyal readers will notice, and I do not want to disappoint them.
Thank you so much for having me as a guest on this blog.
Vijaya Schartz
Blasters, Guns, Swords, Cats, Romance with a kick
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
http://romancingscifi.blogspot.com/
http://ebooks99cents.blogspot.com/
Vijaya's books at Amazon.com:
https://www.amazon.com/author/vijayaschartz
Thursday, March 8, 2012
How The Story Emerged - Flight - The Henge Betrayed
First of all an autographed copy of Flight will be given away to someone signing the guest book, but they must give me a way to reach them. Last week's book wasn't given away since the person has not yet responded. Had a hard time reaching those who entered since they didn't leave an addy so I could reach them.
My interest in Astrology has been a long and ongoing affair. While playing the What If game, I began to consider what if a person had an affinity for one of the four elements, Earth, Air, Water and Fire. Then I thought about my four grandchildren at the time. There birth signs fit the elements and so I decided to write a story using them, but not really. Fictionalized versions of them and using some of the traits of those with Sun Signs in each of the four areas. At night as I was going to sleep I thought about this story and in the morning wrote out the continuing story with none of the frills that end up in the book. A sort of this happened and this happened next. I had decided to call the book The Henge Betrayed. The good or bad thing was that after doing this for a week or more I ended up with about 50 pages typed of what this story was to be. The way I write, those 50 pages would translate into maybe 800 pages, much too long. What emerged was four books. I had fun breaking all this into a story.
Flight is the initial story and has the four children, two sets of fraternal twins, having to leave their home and take flight. Their parents send them forth with talismans and gems that enhance their talents. But their affinities for the elements are just beginning to emerge and they are forced to experiment because of dangers they must face. Along the way they meet a new friend and his companion. They must find a way to heal this boy and they learn he is the son of the ruler who is controlled by an evil man. This friend also has an affinity he had hidden for he cannot follow his father if the talent is seen by the people. The four are on the way to a safe place to wait for the people their parents have asked to mentor them. The destruction of their home occurs and their parents using their affinities for all the elements become a pair of birds. This story tells of their flight and their hopes of finding a safe place. The story also shows their emerging talents. The question is will they ever become strong enough to face the evil man and a shadowy creature called He Who Walks With Evil. During the nect two weeks I'll talk about the second and third books. The fourth has been written and is sitting at the publisher's waiting to hear if it will see the light of day.
Part of the chapter can be read somewhere on the blog.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Wednesday - Plots Finishing up
Been discussing plot for many weeks and I thought I'd finish up, maybe this week or maybe enxt. Depends on how much I want to say. The first thing is that A Plot Is Just A plan. A plot is the journey a character or characters take on the way to a goal. There are two ways to plot a story. One is to make an extensive plan and the other is to just write. Neither way is the right way. The right way is what workd for you, but there are some things a writer can look at to make their story become more than a series of scenes or a muddled mess.
Does your story have a basic premise. Can you state this in just a few words? I often do a short passage when I've begun a story. This consists of a question. Can Mary find true happiness with a man she fears isn't what he says he was? This tells me what I'm writing is a love story and allows me a lot of room to explore. Or try this. Can Katherine discover who has murdered an obnoxious woman and bring peace to the people the woman tried to destroy? Now this screams mystery and allows me room to explore the heroine's search. This is something to explore.
Another part of the plot is what the main character wants and why. Here exploring the characters desire or desires can lead to scenes that flow together. The reason a character wants a specific object means looking at their life and actions. This produces scenes that carry the plot further along. Can you state the desire and the reason in a few sentences, probably no more than a paragraph? You're on the way to producing a plot.
Then there must be someone or something that obstructs the charscter. Do you know what this is? It could be another person or person, it could be an event of nature, it could be a social happening. Another short paragraph writing this out is another part of the plot.
A short paragraph letting yourself know if the main conflict is an internal one or an external one will help clarify the main plot. There can be both in a story but one is the main one. Take the time to decide which or can the two kinds of conflict work together or in opposition?
Then decide what kind of story this is going to be will it be an action story or one of character. Do a short paragraph deciding this and you're on the way to having a plot for your story.
Does your story have a basic premise. Can you state this in just a few words? I often do a short passage when I've begun a story. This consists of a question. Can Mary find true happiness with a man she fears isn't what he says he was? This tells me what I'm writing is a love story and allows me a lot of room to explore. Or try this. Can Katherine discover who has murdered an obnoxious woman and bring peace to the people the woman tried to destroy? Now this screams mystery and allows me room to explore the heroine's search. This is something to explore.
Another part of the plot is what the main character wants and why. Here exploring the characters desire or desires can lead to scenes that flow together. The reason a character wants a specific object means looking at their life and actions. This produces scenes that carry the plot further along. Can you state the desire and the reason in a few sentences, probably no more than a paragraph? You're on the way to producing a plot.
Then there must be someone or something that obstructs the charscter. Do you know what this is? It could be another person or person, it could be an event of nature, it could be a social happening. Another short paragraph writing this out is another part of the plot.
A short paragraph letting yourself know if the main conflict is an internal one or an external one will help clarify the main plot. There can be both in a story but one is the main one. Take the time to decide which or can the two kinds of conflict work together or in opposition?
Then decide what kind of story this is going to be will it be an action story or one of character. Do a short paragraph deciding this and you're on the way to having a plot for your story.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Tuesday's Inspiration - Those first 3 pages
I've often heard that the first three pages of a story are the most important. This is true and I've often started those three pages again and again until I felt they were right. While reading a Writer's Handbook that's almost 30 years old I came across an essay by Shelly Lowenkoff. I don't know the writer but her advice put in the things I try to put in those important three pages. So Just what are they.
Start with an important action rather than starting with a list of a character's movements. What I've heard is to start in the middle of the action, a moment before the action starts of a moment after the action has occurred. This will bring tension into the story and also raise questions in the reader, like - what is going on, will the character manage to escape what every is going on.. This point will stir the reader's curiosity and make them want to read on. While starting near the action, you will put the characters under stress and this can lead into giving a clue as to their desires and their motivations. You do not need to spell these out in the opening pages, hints and clues are enough to let the reader know there is some kind of conflict to come. Conflict is what makes a story vivid.
You need to let the reader know there will be more than one character so a bit of foreshadowing can be a plus. Not much and this will depend on the type of story you are writing. If a romance, the heroine or hero needs just a thought that they're looking for romance. A mystery will have the main character thinking about the villain and so forth.
The first few pages will also establish through whose eyes the story will be told. There may be more than one character who has a viewpoint but putting both in the first three pages will make your opening a bit muddy. Decide who has the most to lose or the most to win and put the opening scene in their viewpoint.
Three pages isn't much but you need to establish setting and the area where the story will be played out. The area is a bit different than the setting. Setting is places. Area is background like sports, medicine - the area where the characters will play out their drama.
If you can establish these elements in those important three pages you'll find they bring the reader to comtinue turning pages because they want to know what will happen to these people next.
Start with an important action rather than starting with a list of a character's movements. What I've heard is to start in the middle of the action, a moment before the action starts of a moment after the action has occurred. This will bring tension into the story and also raise questions in the reader, like - what is going on, will the character manage to escape what every is going on.. This point will stir the reader's curiosity and make them want to read on. While starting near the action, you will put the characters under stress and this can lead into giving a clue as to their desires and their motivations. You do not need to spell these out in the opening pages, hints and clues are enough to let the reader know there is some kind of conflict to come. Conflict is what makes a story vivid.
You need to let the reader know there will be more than one character so a bit of foreshadowing can be a plus. Not much and this will depend on the type of story you are writing. If a romance, the heroine or hero needs just a thought that they're looking for romance. A mystery will have the main character thinking about the villain and so forth.
The first few pages will also establish through whose eyes the story will be told. There may be more than one character who has a viewpoint but putting both in the first three pages will make your opening a bit muddy. Decide who has the most to lose or the most to win and put the opening scene in their viewpoint.
Three pages isn't much but you need to establish setting and the area where the story will be played out. The area is a bit different than the setting. Setting is places. Area is background like sports, medicine - the area where the characters will play out their drama.
If you can establish these elements in those important three pages you'll find they bring the reader to comtinue turning pages because they want to know what will happen to these people next.
Monday, March 5, 2012
5 March - Week behind and week ahead
First the winner of an autographed copy of Come Into the Light is Pat Dale. An email has been sent to her.
Last week was a busy one for writing I have completed all but the last chapter of A Surprising Seduction. Having a bit of trouble finding the right ending but that will happpen. Not that I don't know how it will end it's just finding the right words. That will happen. The main problem is finding the right words for the heroine's change of heart.
This week, besides working to find the right words I've begin doing a blocking in of the next Katherine Miller mystery. Title will either be The Micro-manager Murder or Murder of a Micro-manager. Will figure this out later. Writing this mystery will be a complete switch for me in a way. I usually write third person with more than one character having a viewpoint. The murder stories are told in first person. Here I usually have to rein the heroine in since she can go off on tangents. This book also features her marriage to Lars who has gradually become a character of interest in the stories. Of course Robespierre will have a role in the story but not in the mystery since Katherine takes off to help a friend and leaves her wedding reception. Lars must follow her and since he's not in favor of her crime solving their marriage may be off to a little bit of a rocky start.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
# Blog Visit Sunday
http://dawneprochilo.blogspot.com/2012/02/how-to-not-sell-your-book-in-10-days.html?zx=9a18634740581e79
http://patriciagreenbooks.com/2012/02/25/writing-a-naughty-story-part-2-setting/
http://www.historyundressed.com/
http://patriciagreenbooks.com/2012/02/25/writing-a-naughty-story-part-2-setting/
http://www.historyundressed.com/
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Saturday's Chapter = Angela K. Austin - Give Me Everything
Chapter One
The solitary inflated tube bounced clumsily down the frenzied river with its four passengers. Cold water from the New River sprayed LaKia Jackson over and over as she dipped her oar into the crystalline water in unison with the others in her raft.
Urgently Terrence shouted, “Nic, LaKia rock...left!”
Terrence and Kendis removed their oars from the water. LaKia and Nichelle dragged their oars in the river and paddled repeatedly until sweat blended with the mist of river water covering their bodies.
“Rock, right!” belted Terrence.
“LaKia watch your right,” repeated Kendis.
Concentrating on her left, she had ignored Terrence and Kendis’ last call. Her oar collided with a rock, snapping and cracking as it ripped from her hands shattering into smaller pieces. Her fingers quivered from the prickly sensations shooting through them. Her heart leapt from her chest when she saw the rock in front of them. The momentum from her body cast her from the raft.
Kendis caught her around the waist, but his grip slipped.
She fell sideways, rocking the raft, into the water. The vibration inside her helmet as it bounced off the rubber tube rang in her ears.
Cold spring water of the New River gorge rushed into her mouth. Gasping for air, she tried to pull herself back into the raft. Her hands were too wet. A sickening wave of terror welled up in her belly. “Nic-, Terrence help.”
Frantic, her friends’ hands and arms thrashed through the water. They couldn’t catch her as they guided the raft around the rocks. Waves of salty water filled her nose and mouth; she sank beneath the water, but her vest buoyed her back to the surface.
She had been trained for this...what was it again? Point your feet downstream, keep your body limp, and protect your head. How do you keep your body limp, when you’re scared out of your mind?
Her torso ping-ponged from rock to rock banging her arms and back against every stone in the gorge; slowly consciousness began to drain from her body. Choking from the water in her mouth, she gagged as she slipped beneath the water again. The ragged pieces of her vest, shredded by the gorge’s rocks, floated in the water around her.
The arm that pulled her out of the river felt as solid as the rocks beating against her body. For a moment, she thought she wasn’t being pulled from the water and that she had drowned. But, then she felt the warm air of summer brush across her cold wet skin; her rescuer’s other arm reached down and wrapped around her body to secure his grip. Shivering as she laid on the bottom of the raft, she opened her eyes. Kendis Washington—her enemy, was now her rescuer.
She stirred and awakened as Kendis slid his hands beneath her limp frame. Each shove of her battered body sent a painful shock through her. Fluidly, he scooped her off the rubber floor of the raft and headed toward the dressing tents.
The lantern-lit dirt trail leading to the changing area was covered by indistinguishable shadows and silhouettes to LaKia. She could make out the sounds of small wildlife scurrying about toiling through their nightly rituals, and other guests finishing up their day on the river revving up their car engines to return home. Hickory scented smoke perfumed the air as some rafters prepared for a hamburger, and hot dog medley.
Kendis gingerly navigated the fallen brush and holes dug by man or maybe the local wildlife to bury food or dwell. But, she frowned with the vibration of each step.
She tightened her arms around his neck to control her bounce in his as he carried her to the dressing tent with Nichelle and Terrence in tow. Once inside, she cautiously uncurled her incredibly long legs in search of the cement floor beneath them. She wanted to say something. “Thank…you.” Then her words failed her.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he responded.
“Me, too. I don’t care what you say, you need to learn how to swim,” said Terrence.
Terrence and Kendis retreated to the male dressing tent. Nichelle helped her slowly remove her wetsuit. “I was so scared, Ki. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t saved you.” She watched as her friend tucked the tattered suit away into her netted garment bag resting on a bench in the corner. The bear hug Nichelle trapped her in caused her sore muscles to hurt even more, but as her friend’s tears fell to her shoulder, she gritted her teeth and hugged her with the last ounces of strength in her body.
Nichelle stepped away and wiped at the tears dangling from her lashes. “But, what a story you have to tell. Gorgeous man scooping you out of the waves and carrying you back to your tent.”
Shaking her head rigorously from side to side, she tried to shake the thoughts of Kendis out onto the ground beneath her feet. As much as her body hurt it should have been easy, but she could not stop herself from imagining his arms encircling her again. “No story to tell,” she croaked.
“Whatever.”
With carefully planned movements, she undressed in the tarp tent. “I can’t believe I fell in. I can usually lock myself in the raft pretty good.” The bruises from her fall prevented her from moving as quickly as her friend.
“Maybe you were nervous.”
Cutting Nichelle a what-are-you-talking-about look, she asked, “Nervous about what?”
“Do you remember once when we were at work there was this gorgeous courier that gave you a package, you signed then immediately turned around and tripped over air? He picked you up, and helped you with the box you were carrying.” Holding her stomach, Nichelle rested her back against the metal pole in the center of the tent. Her body shook from laughter. “Oh man that still brings tears to my eyes. At least I know you like the way Kendis looks.”
“I didn’t throw myself out of the raft to get his attention.” Secretly, she thought she wouldn’t have to work that hard. He struck her as the type of guy that wanted to be noticed and that would take notice of anything in a skirt. “I think I fell out because you and your husband were so busy watching me and Kendis that y’all didn’t guide the raft around the big fat rock we hit.”
“Well, at least you’re okay. “
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“But what do you think? Of him? You two going on a date? You know.”
LaKia stretched her legs along the wooden bench she sat on, and massaged her bruised thighs as she frowned. “What do I think? We work together.”
“Not really.” Nichelle slipped on her crisp, dark blue jeans.
“He’s gorgeous, but we do work together.”
“You always look for an excuse.”
Annoyed, she responded, “An excuse?”
“Yeah. What happened between you and Derrick doesn’t mean you have to shut yourself off from the opportunity to meet someone else—-a good man.”
“Every time I tell you I don’t want to meet someone, you think it’s because of Derrick.”
“Well it is.”
“No. It’s not. What about Tony?”
“Okay. You gave one guy a chance, but it didn’t last long and I still don’t know what happened with that.”
“There’s nothing to know...it didn’t work out,” she snapped.
“I guess not. But this time it was my husband. I told him you were tired of my matchmaking. Sorry girl, but I knew you’d find a reason not to come if you knew only the four of us would be rafting.”
“You’re right. Remind me to strangle your husband.”
“You’re a beautiful twenty-eight year old woman whose life is work-work-work.”
“I like what I do.”
Nichelle stopped tying the lace on her sneakers; stood up, and wagged a finger in her direction. “Good lord, that’s not what I mean.” She pointed at LaKia’s body, and then her hair. “If you put a little effort into the way you dress, your hair, or take a vacation once in a while maybe you’d meet a great guy or at least have a little fun.”
“What? Do you want me to walk around dressed like a hooker with a big FOR SALE sign on my forehead?”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered.
“Come on out of there ladies. We’ve changed and we’re ready to go.” Terrence yelled from outside of the tent.
“We’re on our way out,” her friend shouted, and she grabbed her ears. Nichelle’s yell made her head ache even more. Nichelle threw a hand over her mouth, and only removed it briefly to speak in a whisper. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
She had a hard time convincing Nichelle she could finish by herself, but finally she left her alone, and exited the tent laughing as she said, “Terrence leave my girl alone. She’s getting dressed.” She tugged at the sleeve of his t-shirt in an unsuccessful attempt to pull him away.
Terrence continued to harass her. “Were you ladies talking about me and my expert rafting?” He yelled at Kendis. “Can you believe it, man? I think they’re talking about us.”
After minutes of coaxing, Nichelle finally managed to drag him away. His laughter faded as he and Nichelle disappeared down the dirt trail toward their cars.
Slowly, LaKia continued to dress.
She shoved her head through the neck of the cotton t-shirt she struggled with. A shadow flickered across a light outside of the tent.
Kendis had paused by the women’s changing tent.
Why’d he stop? She thought of how she’d shivered in his arms as their friends guided the raft to the end of the trail. She’d felt fragile in his arms, and for some reason she didn’t want him to let her go.
Now as she watched him through the crack in the tent as he watched her, she realized she’d forgotten to re-tie the closures after Nichelle left. The thick canvas doors of the tent had gotten entangled in the debris on the ground, creating a gap.
He had protected her—rescued her, but now...he was like everyone else.
Fifty pounds of dead weight wrapped around her ankles, gluing her feet to the cold concrete floor, impairing each step. Pain coursed through every muscle. Laggardly, she tied each rope.
His eyes scanned her body.
She moved deliberately. The rocks had taken their toll on her leaving her frail and weak. Every time their paths crossed at work they were equals, but now, she was vulnerable. And he took advantage of it.
Her face grew hot as she was assaulted with distant but not faded memories. She squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered how her college sweetheart, Derrick, forced his knee between her legs to keep them from closing. She kneed him in the groin, and dug her cotton candy colored acrylic nails through his t-shirt into his shoulder, he grimaced, but the pain only temporarily deterred him.
Derrick hadn’t responded to her pleas. His drunken haze had permitted him pretense to seize her.
Terrence’s voice in the distance disturbed her thoughts, and severed their connection. She moved to another position inside of the tent.
Kendis waited for her a few steps up the path.
When she neared him he reached for her hand to guide her up the poorly lit path, appalled by his touch, she snatched her hand away.
“Let me help you. It’s dark.”
“I’ve got it.”
Cagily plotting a route through the hole-littered path, she tripped on a veiled tree root. Falling, she flung her arms forward, and braced her body for impact. The boulder she banged into sent an undulating pain through her fingertips that mushroomed through her entire body. A whimper escaped her as she pushed herself upright.
Kendis helped her up.
He extended his hand again, this time, she accepted his offer, and they walked up the trail together in silence to join Nichelle and Terrence.
“Kendis can you give my girl a lift back home?” asked Nichelle. “You guys live so close to each other. You’re right around the corner on Lottsford Rd.”
Screaming inside of her head at Nichelle...she couldn’t believe the girl had done it to her again. There was no way to avoid being trapped in his truck for five hours.
“Sure. No problem, if she doesn’t mind.”
Nichelle turned toward her with pleading eyes. “You guys are only about ten or fifteen minutes apart. I’m almost an hour. I left home at three this morning. It would save me a lot of time. Do you mind?” asked her new ex-best friend.
Through clinched teeth and a tight jaw, she responded, “I don’t mind.”
Nichelle had a look of mission accomplished on her face as the two couples separated and walked toward their cars. Over her shoulder, she yelled, “Great. Call me when you get home Ki.”
Standing at Kendis’ truck door, she said, “Thank you for offering to take me home.”
“No problem.” He opened her door.
Linen scented air wafted around her. Glancing into the backseat she saw nothing. Unsullied polished black leather beckoned her to curl up and nap all of the way home. She grabbed the hand grip; slowly she pulled herself into the SUV.
Kendis nudged her sore torso into the proper position, and snapped her seatbelt across her. “What’s your full address?”
“305 Benton Road. Thank you again for driving me home...you didn’t have to.”
He closed the door, rounded the truck and jumped in.
She watched as he keyed her address into his navigational system.
Settling into his leather bucket seat he responded, “Hey, my Mama would be mad if I didn’t help a woman in need.”
“And how does she feel about you peering through an open tent,” she said sharply.
Flinching, he responded, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to stare. I wanted to know if you were okay.”
“Whatever, I guess it’s the way you handle things.”
“What does that mean?”
Crossing her arms across her chest, she penetrated the side of his head with her stare. “You do what you want, when you want.”
He was just like Derrick. Eight years had passed, but she thought about it—him—everyday.
“Trust me, if I wanted a woman I wouldn’t have to peep in on her.” Pressing a button on his steering wheel, he lowered the volume on the radio.
“But you did. What were you trying to see?”
“The door was open. I wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all.”
“You could’ve asked. You didn’t have to pull up a chair and watch.”
“It wasn’t like that at all.”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. It’s who you are. I should’ve known from work.”
A streak of orange tinted sunlight cutting through the tree tops along the highway beamed into his eyes. His leather chair squawked as he shifted his position in the seat. “What...from work?”
“You and your company are taking what you want from small businesses in my mall.”
“So, you don’t think it’s time for development?”
“There’s always room for something new, but instead of working with us and the community y’all are going to tear up the environment and close down a hundred small businesses.”
“But we’ll add thousands of jobs and improve the economy of the city.”
“Improve the economy...humph...increase traffic, screw up wetlands, and take jobs out of the community.”
“I don’t see it that way. Better jobs and more money there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There’s also nothing wrong with strong communities and families.”
Kendis’ hands formed fists around the wheel. “Strong families are rare.” He turned away from the steering wheel to glance into her eyes. “You sound like an ad for the YMCA.”
“Why? Because I care about something more than money?”
“So, you think I don’t?”
“I don’t really know what you care about...other than naked women.” Voyeur.
“I care about more than naked women and money. But, sometimes the things you want don’t want you back.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we can’t all be like you.” He took his eyes off the road; they met her glare. “Super heroes.”
Her body stiffened; slim, long fingers bowed into knotted fists. “Huh?” What did he mean by Super hero?
“I’ve watched you around the council meetings. I see how everyone’s always turning to you. I’ve seen the ads you run. I know how hard you work, but I work hard, too.”
Half the reason she worked as hard as she did was because of him. He was more detailed than a lot of the people she came up against. Others always underestimated her company, their influence in the community, and her. “I didn’t say you didn’t work hard. Your presentations to the council members are always detailed. I have to be ready for any curve ball you might throw at me.”
“I believe in what I do. Putting more jobs into predominately black communities is important to me. I think those companies deserve a chance.”
“We give new businesses a chance; but, what about the companies already there. Are you willing to throw them out to make room for the new?”
“Why can’t there be room for both?”
“We tried that, but your company didn’t like that idea.”
“No way. I never saw any proposal.”
“I was a part of the team that put the proposal together.”
“I’ll check around. Maybe something got pushed to the side before I joined the team as lead counsel.”
“Sure you will.” She saw absolutely no reason to trust him.
“I will.”
Short bursts of conversation speckled their return trip home. Kendis scrolled through the channels of his XM Satellite Radio system. The watery blue block shaped numbers on the dashboard lit up the car interior as they changed.
He turned onto Lottsford Road.
“Right there. That’s my house.”
Leaning forward in her seat, LaKia examined the house. “Nice.”
“Thanks.”
“I searched around this neighborhood when I looked for houses last year. You got lucky.”
“I know.”
He turned onto 202 South. The closer they came to her condo the more regularly the computerized navigational system chimed.
“This is it. Thanks again.”
Kendis eased the SUV to a stop.
“No problem.” He began to exit the SUV, but his door chime knelled at him. “Wait, I’ll get the do…”
She swung the door open. “I’ve got it. Don’t bother.”
The solitary inflated tube bounced clumsily down the frenzied river with its four passengers. Cold water from the New River sprayed LaKia Jackson over and over as she dipped her oar into the crystalline water in unison with the others in her raft.
Urgently Terrence shouted, “Nic, LaKia rock...left!”
Terrence and Kendis removed their oars from the water. LaKia and Nichelle dragged their oars in the river and paddled repeatedly until sweat blended with the mist of river water covering their bodies.
“Rock, right!” belted Terrence.
“LaKia watch your right,” repeated Kendis.
Concentrating on her left, she had ignored Terrence and Kendis’ last call. Her oar collided with a rock, snapping and cracking as it ripped from her hands shattering into smaller pieces. Her fingers quivered from the prickly sensations shooting through them. Her heart leapt from her chest when she saw the rock in front of them. The momentum from her body cast her from the raft.
Kendis caught her around the waist, but his grip slipped.
She fell sideways, rocking the raft, into the water. The vibration inside her helmet as it bounced off the rubber tube rang in her ears.
Cold spring water of the New River gorge rushed into her mouth. Gasping for air, she tried to pull herself back into the raft. Her hands were too wet. A sickening wave of terror welled up in her belly. “Nic-, Terrence help.”
Frantic, her friends’ hands and arms thrashed through the water. They couldn’t catch her as they guided the raft around the rocks. Waves of salty water filled her nose and mouth; she sank beneath the water, but her vest buoyed her back to the surface.
She had been trained for this...what was it again? Point your feet downstream, keep your body limp, and protect your head. How do you keep your body limp, when you’re scared out of your mind?
Her torso ping-ponged from rock to rock banging her arms and back against every stone in the gorge; slowly consciousness began to drain from her body. Choking from the water in her mouth, she gagged as she slipped beneath the water again. The ragged pieces of her vest, shredded by the gorge’s rocks, floated in the water around her.
The arm that pulled her out of the river felt as solid as the rocks beating against her body. For a moment, she thought she wasn’t being pulled from the water and that she had drowned. But, then she felt the warm air of summer brush across her cold wet skin; her rescuer’s other arm reached down and wrapped around her body to secure his grip. Shivering as she laid on the bottom of the raft, she opened her eyes. Kendis Washington—her enemy, was now her rescuer.
She stirred and awakened as Kendis slid his hands beneath her limp frame. Each shove of her battered body sent a painful shock through her. Fluidly, he scooped her off the rubber floor of the raft and headed toward the dressing tents.
The lantern-lit dirt trail leading to the changing area was covered by indistinguishable shadows and silhouettes to LaKia. She could make out the sounds of small wildlife scurrying about toiling through their nightly rituals, and other guests finishing up their day on the river revving up their car engines to return home. Hickory scented smoke perfumed the air as some rafters prepared for a hamburger, and hot dog medley.
Kendis gingerly navigated the fallen brush and holes dug by man or maybe the local wildlife to bury food or dwell. But, she frowned with the vibration of each step.
She tightened her arms around his neck to control her bounce in his as he carried her to the dressing tent with Nichelle and Terrence in tow. Once inside, she cautiously uncurled her incredibly long legs in search of the cement floor beneath them. She wanted to say something. “Thank…you.” Then her words failed her.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he responded.
“Me, too. I don’t care what you say, you need to learn how to swim,” said Terrence.
Terrence and Kendis retreated to the male dressing tent. Nichelle helped her slowly remove her wetsuit. “I was so scared, Ki. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t saved you.” She watched as her friend tucked the tattered suit away into her netted garment bag resting on a bench in the corner. The bear hug Nichelle trapped her in caused her sore muscles to hurt even more, but as her friend’s tears fell to her shoulder, she gritted her teeth and hugged her with the last ounces of strength in her body.
Nichelle stepped away and wiped at the tears dangling from her lashes. “But, what a story you have to tell. Gorgeous man scooping you out of the waves and carrying you back to your tent.”
Shaking her head rigorously from side to side, she tried to shake the thoughts of Kendis out onto the ground beneath her feet. As much as her body hurt it should have been easy, but she could not stop herself from imagining his arms encircling her again. “No story to tell,” she croaked.
“Whatever.”
With carefully planned movements, she undressed in the tarp tent. “I can’t believe I fell in. I can usually lock myself in the raft pretty good.” The bruises from her fall prevented her from moving as quickly as her friend.
“Maybe you were nervous.”
Cutting Nichelle a what-are-you-talking-about look, she asked, “Nervous about what?”
“Do you remember once when we were at work there was this gorgeous courier that gave you a package, you signed then immediately turned around and tripped over air? He picked you up, and helped you with the box you were carrying.” Holding her stomach, Nichelle rested her back against the metal pole in the center of the tent. Her body shook from laughter. “Oh man that still brings tears to my eyes. At least I know you like the way Kendis looks.”
“I didn’t throw myself out of the raft to get his attention.” Secretly, she thought she wouldn’t have to work that hard. He struck her as the type of guy that wanted to be noticed and that would take notice of anything in a skirt. “I think I fell out because you and your husband were so busy watching me and Kendis that y’all didn’t guide the raft around the big fat rock we hit.”
“Well, at least you’re okay. “
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“But what do you think? Of him? You two going on a date? You know.”
LaKia stretched her legs along the wooden bench she sat on, and massaged her bruised thighs as she frowned. “What do I think? We work together.”
“Not really.” Nichelle slipped on her crisp, dark blue jeans.
“He’s gorgeous, but we do work together.”
“You always look for an excuse.”
Annoyed, she responded, “An excuse?”
“Yeah. What happened between you and Derrick doesn’t mean you have to shut yourself off from the opportunity to meet someone else—-a good man.”
“Every time I tell you I don’t want to meet someone, you think it’s because of Derrick.”
“Well it is.”
“No. It’s not. What about Tony?”
“Okay. You gave one guy a chance, but it didn’t last long and I still don’t know what happened with that.”
“There’s nothing to know...it didn’t work out,” she snapped.
“I guess not. But this time it was my husband. I told him you were tired of my matchmaking. Sorry girl, but I knew you’d find a reason not to come if you knew only the four of us would be rafting.”
“You’re right. Remind me to strangle your husband.”
“You’re a beautiful twenty-eight year old woman whose life is work-work-work.”
“I like what I do.”
Nichelle stopped tying the lace on her sneakers; stood up, and wagged a finger in her direction. “Good lord, that’s not what I mean.” She pointed at LaKia’s body, and then her hair. “If you put a little effort into the way you dress, your hair, or take a vacation once in a while maybe you’d meet a great guy or at least have a little fun.”
“What? Do you want me to walk around dressed like a hooker with a big FOR SALE sign on my forehead?”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered.
“Come on out of there ladies. We’ve changed and we’re ready to go.” Terrence yelled from outside of the tent.
“We’re on our way out,” her friend shouted, and she grabbed her ears. Nichelle’s yell made her head ache even more. Nichelle threw a hand over her mouth, and only removed it briefly to speak in a whisper. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
She had a hard time convincing Nichelle she could finish by herself, but finally she left her alone, and exited the tent laughing as she said, “Terrence leave my girl alone. She’s getting dressed.” She tugged at the sleeve of his t-shirt in an unsuccessful attempt to pull him away.
Terrence continued to harass her. “Were you ladies talking about me and my expert rafting?” He yelled at Kendis. “Can you believe it, man? I think they’re talking about us.”
After minutes of coaxing, Nichelle finally managed to drag him away. His laughter faded as he and Nichelle disappeared down the dirt trail toward their cars.
Slowly, LaKia continued to dress.
She shoved her head through the neck of the cotton t-shirt she struggled with. A shadow flickered across a light outside of the tent.
Kendis had paused by the women’s changing tent.
Why’d he stop? She thought of how she’d shivered in his arms as their friends guided the raft to the end of the trail. She’d felt fragile in his arms, and for some reason she didn’t want him to let her go.
Now as she watched him through the crack in the tent as he watched her, she realized she’d forgotten to re-tie the closures after Nichelle left. The thick canvas doors of the tent had gotten entangled in the debris on the ground, creating a gap.
He had protected her—rescued her, but now...he was like everyone else.
Fifty pounds of dead weight wrapped around her ankles, gluing her feet to the cold concrete floor, impairing each step. Pain coursed through every muscle. Laggardly, she tied each rope.
His eyes scanned her body.
She moved deliberately. The rocks had taken their toll on her leaving her frail and weak. Every time their paths crossed at work they were equals, but now, she was vulnerable. And he took advantage of it.
Her face grew hot as she was assaulted with distant but not faded memories. She squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered how her college sweetheart, Derrick, forced his knee between her legs to keep them from closing. She kneed him in the groin, and dug her cotton candy colored acrylic nails through his t-shirt into his shoulder, he grimaced, but the pain only temporarily deterred him.
Derrick hadn’t responded to her pleas. His drunken haze had permitted him pretense to seize her.
Terrence’s voice in the distance disturbed her thoughts, and severed their connection. She moved to another position inside of the tent.
Kendis waited for her a few steps up the path.
When she neared him he reached for her hand to guide her up the poorly lit path, appalled by his touch, she snatched her hand away.
“Let me help you. It’s dark.”
“I’ve got it.”
Cagily plotting a route through the hole-littered path, she tripped on a veiled tree root. Falling, she flung her arms forward, and braced her body for impact. The boulder she banged into sent an undulating pain through her fingertips that mushroomed through her entire body. A whimper escaped her as she pushed herself upright.
Kendis helped her up.
He extended his hand again, this time, she accepted his offer, and they walked up the trail together in silence to join Nichelle and Terrence.
“Kendis can you give my girl a lift back home?” asked Nichelle. “You guys live so close to each other. You’re right around the corner on Lottsford Rd.”
Screaming inside of her head at Nichelle...she couldn’t believe the girl had done it to her again. There was no way to avoid being trapped in his truck for five hours.
“Sure. No problem, if she doesn’t mind.”
Nichelle turned toward her with pleading eyes. “You guys are only about ten or fifteen minutes apart. I’m almost an hour. I left home at three this morning. It would save me a lot of time. Do you mind?” asked her new ex-best friend.
Through clinched teeth and a tight jaw, she responded, “I don’t mind.”
Nichelle had a look of mission accomplished on her face as the two couples separated and walked toward their cars. Over her shoulder, she yelled, “Great. Call me when you get home Ki.”
Standing at Kendis’ truck door, she said, “Thank you for offering to take me home.”
“No problem.” He opened her door.
Linen scented air wafted around her. Glancing into the backseat she saw nothing. Unsullied polished black leather beckoned her to curl up and nap all of the way home. She grabbed the hand grip; slowly she pulled herself into the SUV.
Kendis nudged her sore torso into the proper position, and snapped her seatbelt across her. “What’s your full address?”
“305 Benton Road. Thank you again for driving me home...you didn’t have to.”
He closed the door, rounded the truck and jumped in.
She watched as he keyed her address into his navigational system.
Settling into his leather bucket seat he responded, “Hey, my Mama would be mad if I didn’t help a woman in need.”
“And how does she feel about you peering through an open tent,” she said sharply.
Flinching, he responded, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to stare. I wanted to know if you were okay.”
“Whatever, I guess it’s the way you handle things.”
“What does that mean?”
Crossing her arms across her chest, she penetrated the side of his head with her stare. “You do what you want, when you want.”
He was just like Derrick. Eight years had passed, but she thought about it—him—everyday.
“Trust me, if I wanted a woman I wouldn’t have to peep in on her.” Pressing a button on his steering wheel, he lowered the volume on the radio.
“But you did. What were you trying to see?”
“The door was open. I wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all.”
“You could’ve asked. You didn’t have to pull up a chair and watch.”
“It wasn’t like that at all.”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. It’s who you are. I should’ve known from work.”
A streak of orange tinted sunlight cutting through the tree tops along the highway beamed into his eyes. His leather chair squawked as he shifted his position in the seat. “What...from work?”
“You and your company are taking what you want from small businesses in my mall.”
“So, you don’t think it’s time for development?”
“There’s always room for something new, but instead of working with us and the community y’all are going to tear up the environment and close down a hundred small businesses.”
“But we’ll add thousands of jobs and improve the economy of the city.”
“Improve the economy...humph...increase traffic, screw up wetlands, and take jobs out of the community.”
“I don’t see it that way. Better jobs and more money there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There’s also nothing wrong with strong communities and families.”
Kendis’ hands formed fists around the wheel. “Strong families are rare.” He turned away from the steering wheel to glance into her eyes. “You sound like an ad for the YMCA.”
“Why? Because I care about something more than money?”
“So, you think I don’t?”
“I don’t really know what you care about...other than naked women.” Voyeur.
“I care about more than naked women and money. But, sometimes the things you want don’t want you back.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we can’t all be like you.” He took his eyes off the road; they met her glare. “Super heroes.”
Her body stiffened; slim, long fingers bowed into knotted fists. “Huh?” What did he mean by Super hero?
“I’ve watched you around the council meetings. I see how everyone’s always turning to you. I’ve seen the ads you run. I know how hard you work, but I work hard, too.”
Half the reason she worked as hard as she did was because of him. He was more detailed than a lot of the people she came up against. Others always underestimated her company, their influence in the community, and her. “I didn’t say you didn’t work hard. Your presentations to the council members are always detailed. I have to be ready for any curve ball you might throw at me.”
“I believe in what I do. Putting more jobs into predominately black communities is important to me. I think those companies deserve a chance.”
“We give new businesses a chance; but, what about the companies already there. Are you willing to throw them out to make room for the new?”
“Why can’t there be room for both?”
“We tried that, but your company didn’t like that idea.”
“No way. I never saw any proposal.”
“I was a part of the team that put the proposal together.”
“I’ll check around. Maybe something got pushed to the side before I joined the team as lead counsel.”
“Sure you will.” She saw absolutely no reason to trust him.
“I will.”
Short bursts of conversation speckled their return trip home. Kendis scrolled through the channels of his XM Satellite Radio system. The watery blue block shaped numbers on the dashboard lit up the car interior as they changed.
He turned onto Lottsford Road.
“Right there. That’s my house.”
Leaning forward in her seat, LaKia examined the house. “Nice.”
“Thanks.”
“I searched around this neighborhood when I looked for houses last year. You got lucky.”
“I know.”
He turned onto 202 South. The closer they came to her condo the more regularly the computerized navigational system chimed.
“This is it. Thanks again.”
Kendis eased the SUV to a stop.
“No problem.” He began to exit the SUV, but his door chime knelled at him. “Wait, I’ll get the do…”
She swung the door open. “I’ve got it. Don’t bother.”
Friday, March 2, 2012
How She Does It -- Angela K. Austin
We all know there are six elements in writing fiction and often fact. Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. I believe the first five lead to the sixth which for me is the plot. What's your take on this?
You know, I took a lot of writing classes in undergrad, and I've heard these mentioned time and time again. I don't care what I write, I think about the five Ws and one H. Even though I learned these in relation to journalism, they translate into plotting: character development, story development, and scene setting.
1. How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific process? I don't know if I have a "process."
Usually some spark of an idea comes to me about a piece of the story. From whatever small piece of the story I have the rest of the story develops.
2. Do your characters come before the plot? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?
Oops :-) I guess, I've answered part of this. For every story that I've written so far, it's been different. Maybe because I'm a huge pantser. I've tried outlining my story, but I never stick with it. But, I love writing character profiles. I find pictures that look like the characters I have in mind, and then I develop their backstories, which help me create the push and pull of the story as I go. I always finish each scene with the question...what if? Each answer to that question helps me flush out my story.
3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin?
In a general way or a specific one? I had this discussion with a writer friend of mine the other day. She has the ability to jump around in her stories without affecting the continuity of her stories. I can't do it. I don't know why. As I write the story, I get to know the characters. As I get to know them, the story develops. After I finish the initial draft, then I often go back and add or cut scenes, but I have to get the basic story written, first.
4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?
I think, in the beginning, it was easier to write what I knew, but now, I write about things I've never experienced and places I've never seen . I spend a ton of time researching. And, yes, as a result, I have a ton of images of all types of things saved to my computers.
5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?
Both. Right now, I'm researching a story idea that has a bit of a historical thread. I've been using both books and online to research different pieces of the story. Some things just aren't available. I'm even taking historical tours of some of the areas!
You know, I took a lot of writing classes in undergrad, and I've heard these mentioned time and time again. I don't care what I write, I think about the five Ws and one H. Even though I learned these in relation to journalism, they translate into plotting: character development, story development, and scene setting.
1. How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific process? I don't know if I have a "process."
Usually some spark of an idea comes to me about a piece of the story. From whatever small piece of the story I have the rest of the story develops.
2. Do your characters come before the plot? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?
Oops :-) I guess, I've answered part of this. For every story that I've written so far, it's been different. Maybe because I'm a huge pantser. I've tried outlining my story, but I never stick with it. But, I love writing character profiles. I find pictures that look like the characters I have in mind, and then I develop their backstories, which help me create the push and pull of the story as I go. I always finish each scene with the question...what if? Each answer to that question helps me flush out my story.
3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin?
In a general way or a specific one? I had this discussion with a writer friend of mine the other day. She has the ability to jump around in her stories without affecting the continuity of her stories. I can't do it. I don't know why. As I write the story, I get to know the characters. As I get to know them, the story develops. After I finish the initial draft, then I often go back and add or cut scenes, but I have to get the basic story written, first.
4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?
I think, in the beginning, it was easier to write what I knew, but now, I write about things I've never experienced and places I've never seen . I spend a ton of time researching. And, yes, as a result, I have a ton of images of all types of things saved to my computers.
5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?
Both. Right now, I'm researching a story idea that has a bit of a historical thread. I've been using both books and online to research different pieces of the story. Some things just aren't available. I'm even taking historical tours of some of the areas!
Thursday, March 1, 2012
How The Story Emerged -- Come Into The Light
To be given away an autographed print copy of Come Into The Light.
Authors often play the game of "what if." I know I do and that's how Come Into The Light began. There were stories in the local newspaper about the privatization of services at a local hospital. This started the motor running. I already had a character I wanted to feature in a book. She was the Director of Nursing at a hospital I'd used in another book. What if the CEO of the hospital was using this privatization to gain his own ends. Hospital politics are rather like politics elsewhere - convoluted to say the least. This heroine also fascinated me. She was past forty, had never been married, had a family background that had caused her to lose her first love. The next emergence was another what if. What if the first man returned to her life and what if he was ill. Sympathy would rattle her emotions, especially if she had also met a man who challenged her to step from the shadowy life she had been living.
The story unfolded with a lot of comments from my critique partners and was finally finished and published.
Now comes the fun part several of the situations I had dreamed up for the story had happened. Not at one hospital but at others in the area. I read with interest and decided sometimes playing what if can tune into something that's in the air. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading Come Into The Light and watch Johanna Gordon solve and dynamite the developing problems at her hospital. Also you'll learn how her decision about which man was taken.
Authors often play the game of "what if." I know I do and that's how Come Into The Light began. There were stories in the local newspaper about the privatization of services at a local hospital. This started the motor running. I already had a character I wanted to feature in a book. She was the Director of Nursing at a hospital I'd used in another book. What if the CEO of the hospital was using this privatization to gain his own ends. Hospital politics are rather like politics elsewhere - convoluted to say the least. This heroine also fascinated me. She was past forty, had never been married, had a family background that had caused her to lose her first love. The next emergence was another what if. What if the first man returned to her life and what if he was ill. Sympathy would rattle her emotions, especially if she had also met a man who challenged her to step from the shadowy life she had been living.
The story unfolded with a lot of comments from my critique partners and was finally finished and published.
Now comes the fun part several of the situations I had dreamed up for the story had happened. Not at one hospital but at others in the area. I read with interest and decided sometimes playing what if can tune into something that's in the air. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading Come Into The Light and watch Johanna Gordon solve and dynamite the developing problems at her hospital. Also you'll learn how her decision about which man was taken.
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