Friday, January 10, 2014

Friday's How She Does It Featuring Rolynn Anderson


We all know there are six elements of fiction. Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. I believe the first five lead to the sixth, which for me is plot. What's Rolynn Anderson’s take on this?

1.Rolynn, how do you create your characters? Do you have a specific method?
My process is haphazard at best, in the beginning, but as I proceed with the plot, I pick characters with purpose: people who act as foils to my hero/heroine, and individuals who trip them up…people who push the action and challenge the h/h.  For LIE CATCHERS, I was charmed by the fact that in Petersburg, Alaska, Norwegian men, displaced from their homeland, traveled to Alaska to become fishermen.  Some of them married Tlingit (native) women.  In a gift store in Petersburg, Alaska, I met the owner, who happened to be a “Tlingwegian.”  She was blonde and blue-eyed but with a warm complexion.  My heroine was born with that encounter.

2. Do your characters come before the plot?
Not a linear process, for sure.  As I develop the plot that challenges my h/h, I grab new characters off the ‘shelf,’ adding to the complexity of the plot.  I like to surprise the reader and challenge myself as a writer with “out of the box” tactics.  In LIE CATCHERS, for instance, I found out that Petersburg, Alaska, was burdened with a 1932 unsolved homicide.  What’s more, the man murdered was an important Chinese man…in a Norwegian town.  That caught my interest.  I wondered if I could solve an old crime and a new one, comparing the way crimes were handled in 1932 to how we work them today…and somehow tie in both crimes.  The challenge was too delicious to pass up! 

3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?
Absolutely not.  I may not know how it’s going to end before I’m 85% into the book.  I like surprise endings, so I tend to work to the denouement and surprise myself with a turnabout climax.  One thing I do know about the ending of a stand-alone novel…the h/h are stretched, learn and grow, finding that together, their skills, love and verve are unbeatable.

4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?
Settings drive me to write a book even more than character or plot ideas.  I cruised to Petersburg, Alaska, in my trawler two years ago.  Had never been there before.  Did not know the town was full of Norwegians (my heritage).  Was not aware Norwegians settled in Alaska to fish (as did the Russians, etc.).  LIE CATCHERS was born out of my surprise and delight in discovering this charming fishing town, full of people who looked like me, ate food I liked, said ‘uff da’ the way I say it.  Okay, there’s a bit of narcissism here, but finding this town, set below the LeConte Glacier, really got my writing juices flowing! 

5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?
Books and on line.  I bought books about Petersburg in the town’s bookstore and connected with people in Petersburg to help me answer some questions about the town, but most of my research (especially about the 1932 murder) was done on line.  I e-mail individuals regularly, as well.  I have a cadre of experts I consult about forensics, for instance.  Don’t know what I’d do without all that free advice!

6. Are you a draft writer or do you revise as you go along and why? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?
I’m a pantser through and through, which takes more time, but is more satisfying to me.  I like to be surprised every morning when I get up to write.  I never know where my writing will take me each day…and I love that feeling!


LIE CATCHERS
Website: http://rolynnanderson.com/         

Blurb:
Two unsolved murders will tear apart an Alaska fishing town unless a writer and a government agent reveal their secret obsessions.

Treasury agent Parker Browne is working undercover in Petersburg, Alaska to investigate a money scam and a murder. His prime suspect, Liv Hanson, is a freelance writer struggling to save her family’s business. Free spirited, full of life, and with a talent for catching liars, she fascinates Parker.

Trying to prove she’s a legitimate writer who cares about Petersburg’s issues, Liv pens a series of newspaper articles about an old, unsolved murder. When her cold case ties in with Parker’s investigation, bullets start to fly.

Parker understands money trails, and Liv knows the town residents. But he gave up on love two years ago, and she trusts no one, especially with her carefully guarded secret. If they mesh their skills to find the killers, will they survive the fallout?

A 5 STAR REVIEW:
A Rich, Intriguing Story December 27, 2013-Amazon Kindle
By Roben

I received an ARC of this book, and was thrilled to read it. I adored the setting, and the quirkiness of the characters in the small Alaska town. It made me want to go to Alaska. That kind of authenticity comes from an author who knows her setting, who understands its people, and can then convey that knowledge richly. Anderson does just that. Her mystery/suspense, is carefully woven with the right amount of history to engage the reader, and enough mystery to keep the reader guessing. This was my first novel by Rolynn Anderson, and I would definitely read this author again.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Thursday's Opening Scene - Moon Summoned third heroine - Egeria by Janet Lane Walters


The harsh rasp of a strange man’s voice woke her. Where was she? Dried scallas and peppers hung from the rafters of the -- loft? She put her feet on the rough wood floor. Memories surfaced slowly. She was Egeria and this was her home. She turned her head and stared at the huge empty bed. Where was Malara? Egeria had no memories of ever sleeping alone in the loft. Always her sister had been with her.
“Where is she?” the stranger bellowed. “Malara ails.”
“Don’t shout. Egeria’s moon-touched and slow, but she obeys.”
The sound of her father’s voice drew her to the opening where a ladder led to the lower floor of the farmhouse. She stared at the stranger. Who was he?
“She should be here to tend the fire and fetch the eggs for my breakfast.”
Egeria frowned. Why did this man give orders? The farm was Malara’s legacy from their mother. She smoothed the skirt of the dress she’d slept in and pulled on the fleece-lined ankle boots. As she climbed the ladder, a wave of dizziness nearly made her fall.
She glanced around the large main room. Fireplaces stood at either end. Around one was a circle of chairs. Near the second, a more massive one, stood a long table flanked by benches and chairs at the ends. On the wall near a door, an open cupboard held dishes. Pans and kettles hung from hooks on the stone wall of the hearth.
“What kept you?” A muscular man with red hair grabbed her arm. “See to your chores.”
“Who are you?” Only garbled sounds emerged. Where were her sister and her brother?
“Idiot.” The man pushed her toward the hearth. “The fire. The eggs. Can’t you remember anything from one day to the next?”
Egeria raked ashes from the banked fire. She added kindling to the glowing coals. When the flames leaped high, she reached for several logs. This return to a routine stirred memories. She donned her cloak and lifted the egg basket.
Outside she opened the door of the pullet house. Straw spilled from the waist-high shelves on three sides of the narrow shed. She collected eggs from beneath the squawking layers. Then she spread grain in the feeding trough. Her thoughts churned with bits of knowledge.
As she returned to the house, her brother hailed her. “You are late. Has he been at you again?”
She turned. “Who?” Her tongue felt less tight.
He stepped back and shook his head. “He wouldn’t dare take you the way he has Malara. No man would harm one touched by the Mistress.” He frowned. “’Tis foolish to tell you these things for you don’t understand.” He opened the kitchen door.
His words set off an avalanche of thoughts. Tave was her father’s name. Trag, her brother’s. There’d been trouble and many soldiers. Then the stranger had come.
She put the egg basket on the table. Malara stood at the hearth. Strips of shoat sizzled on the flat stone griddle that jutted from the side of the huge fireplace. Steam rose from a kettle hanging on a hook.
The stranger put his arms around Malara and stroked her abdomen. “Are you sure you nest my son?”
Daughter, Egeria thought. How did she know that?
Malara bowed her head. “The Mistress has withdrawn her blessings from me these past two lunars. What else can it be?”
He touched her pale gold hair. Tenderness showed in his light brown eyes. He released Malara and turned to the table where Egeria placed dishes. “One place only. The rest of you eat when I’m done.” He raised his fist.
“Radon, don’t strike her,” Malara cried. “She follows a routine and your coming has made a change. She’ll learn the new pattern in time.”
He rested his elbows on the table. “Should the coming child be a girl, will it be like her?”
“If the Mistress gives me one of her daughters, I’ll rejoice. Egeria sees things we don’t. Wait ‘til you see how her garden grows and the amount of honey from her hives.” She placed a full plate in front of him.
He caught her hand. “Be glad I’m only a former soldier and not a follower of the gray priests. You’d be beaten for speaking of the whore you worship.” He shook his head. “When I took this farm as payment for my time of service, I thought I’d have an inner court of two women. After my brother arrives I’ll visit Angara and choose a handmaiden from the pens.”
Tears filled Malara’s eyes. “Radan, you can’t bring a strange woman to upset the harmony of the house.”

“Fool. I’m allowed as many women as I have coins to pay the taxes. This farm is rich. In the spring, a women’s court will be built. Then none but my eyes can feast on my women.”

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Goals for Characters

 Characters do come alive and they become people to a writer and to the reader. The tags give them interest but there comes a time when the character must stop being created and enter a story. So what do you do? Give them a goal.

Goal is what the character wants to achieve. Goal is a place they want to go, an object, a person, anything the character might want. How does one determine what the characters goals might be?  Joe wants Mary. Why? Arthur whats to know who killed Amy? These are goals and there are many goals the character you've been bringing to life may want or need. Determining the why of the what is the next step the writer must take.

What does the character lack in his life? Is the lack generic or specific? The lack is an inadequacy. A lack eats away at his or her ability to control. A lack makes him want to do something to gain his goal. Joe wants love. Then he decides Mary is the one who will give him what he desires. Why did he choose her when he could have picked Lucy or Joan? The reason behind this is that Mary offers him some compensation that makes the goal possible.

To gain the compensation and to reach the goal the character must act. The action is the direction he or she takes to reach the goal. This suddenly brings the character to life for he discovers what is lacking, decides on the compensation an takes action driving toward the goal. Suddenly the character is alive and running off the page.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Tuesday's Inspiration - Those Twisted Writer's Minds

More on what makes a writer's minds. Of course not all of these are present in every writer but many of them are and they combine to make each writer unique. So here goes some more of the traits. I really like the first one

Eidetic  recall or visual memory - This I feel is very important since it means when you lose that paragraph, the writer can sit back and recall what he wrote or write it better and another is to bring the view the place you last saw and to put it on paper. This is valuable. I have the first and not always the second. Settings are hard for me while remembering what I wrote months ago is easy.

Now we get into another trait. Oral or anal fixation.  Some writers are excessive eaters, drinkers, smokers and chatterers. I've suffered from at least the eating and at one time the smoking. On the other hand some writers are excessively neat. This seldom happens when I write. It's sort of like organized chaos. I know where everything is but do not move it.

So that's the inspiration for today and hopefully one of these days I will finish this part and move on to other attributes for the author to strive to obtain. Especially if this computer will start working the way I want it to work.

Monday, January 6, 2014

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters


Meander 1 Been wondering is smirk is the new smile. Do heroes smirk? Been reading a lot of books lately when the hero smirks at the heroine. Doesn't seem heroic to me. Smirk always reminds me of the villain or a teenager. Are these heroes young. Actually not but they do smirk. I can handle the hero glaring, a mischief look but not a smirk. Every time I read this, I'm jerked out of what is a good story. I have no answer to my question but I know my heroes don't smirk.

Meander 2 For some reason my blog has been receiving more that 200 hits a day. This hasn't added to the comments. There are generally one or two of those a day. Seems I've been discovered by China and there are more hits from there than the US daily. I don't understand what's happening but I do hope that whatever these people are reading that they are gaining knowledge or something.

Meander 3 Am progressing with Melodic Dreams and will continue to pursue this story in the weeks to come. Am enjoying the writing and haven't started that feeling that I should be moving onto the next story yet. We'll see what will happen as time goes on.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Saturday's Chapter from Trusting Love by Emma Leigh Reed



CHAPTER ONE

Chloe Wilder shot up in bed. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands trying to adjust to the dim moonlight that filtered in through the closed blinds. Her heart raced as she took in the shadows that danced around the room. She swiped her hand across her face to wipe away the tears the nightmare left behind. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she hugged herself tight.

This same nightmare had become recurrent. Her arms wrapped around her waist, she whispered, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She pushed the covers off, jumped out of bed, and crossed to the window. It was dark except for the light of the moon. No street lights were lit. There was no better time than now.

She pulled on an old pair of sweat pants and a baggy sweater. She dragged an old tattered suitcase from the closet and started packing. A sense of urgency came upon her as she shoved in the last shirt and closed the suitcase. She glanced around the room and her eyes stopped on a picture of her parents. They held each other, smiling. It was obviously taken at a happy moment. She picked up the picture and looked closer. Sadness and shame overwhelmed her. Holding it close, Chloe closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness for the mistakes she had made in her life. Putting the picture in her purse, she picked up the suitcase and slipped through the door into the night.

She threw the old suitcase in the backseat of her beloved Toyota. The vehicle was on its last leg, but somehow it kept running. Chloe prayed it would take her far away from this town, and even further from all the pain. She needed a fresh start for her and her baby she vowed to protect.

She drove with her lights on low, praying no one would see her. Turning onto a back road she blew out a sigh of relief as the road lead her out of town. Time was of the essence. She had a small window of opportunity to put distance between Tony and her. Chloe didn’t know what had possessed her to get involved with him. He had been quite a charmer in the beginning. Now thoughts of Tony brought only regret and fear. She shuddered at the thought of what he would do when he found her gone.

The night seemed to get blacker as she drove further out of town. Tension knotted her neck and her arms ached from gripping the steering wheel. Chloe forced out a deep breath and turned the radio to a soft rock station. She allowed herself to relax just a fraction after driving for hours into the night.

Miles passed. The sky turned from black to a gray with a tinge of pink in the horizon. Chloe’s eyes grew heavy. She found a rest area facing the ocean and pulled in. Locking her doors, she closed her eyes. Just a few minutes of sleep, then I will keep moving.

~~~

The house was quiet when Tony slipped inside. He smirked in the dark. Chloe was so predictable—always in bed before he got home hoping to avoid him. He could see through her, but she was easily influenced and good to have around. He made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer. Twisting off the cap, he slipped into living room and sat down. His legs sprawled in front of him he lounged back in the easy chair.

Chloe had been young when he had found her. She was eager for love and he gave it to her. Well, maybe not the love she had been looking for, but he didn’t care what she needed. He did feel sorry when he saw her tears but now he’s bored and ready to move on, but can’t. She overhead too many conversations and knew too much.

He sighed and placed the empty bottle on the table next to him, stood and started upstairs. Something had to be done with her. He slipped into the bathroom off the bedroom and turned on the light. Tony expected to see Chloe huddled on the edge of the bed. He did a double take when he realized the bed was empty.

What the hell. He flipped on the bedroom light. She had been there. The covers were tossed aside. He pulled open a bureau drawer. Her clothes were gone. His fists clenched at his sides as he raced downstairs.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number.

“She’s gone… I don’t know where, just find her and fast...” He disconnected, picked up the empty beer bottle and flung it against the wall. The glass shattered into tiny pieces that sprayed across the hard wood floor. “Chloe, what have you done?”

 

Friday, January 3, 2014

Friday's How She Does It featuring Emma Leigh Reed


We all know there are six elements of fiction. Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. I believe the first five lead to the sixth which for me is plot. What's your take on this?
 
All six definitely make up the plot.  Without even one of them you have plot holes that are impossible to fill.
 
 
1.      How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific method?
 
I don't have a specific method for creating characters.  They really just seem to come to me.  As the book progresses, the characters become more fleshed out.

 
 
2. Do your characters come before the plot?

 
Its really kind of a toss up.  I have a very loose plot, and when I say loose I mean probably about a sentence of what the plot is, and then the characters come to mind.  As the characters develop, the plot develops.
 
3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?
 
I have a very general idea of where the story will end before I start.  However, because I don't typically plot out the story in terms of being a plotter, the ending can change here or there to a degree.
 
4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?
 
The Maine coastline for me has always been a place to de-stress and my favorite place to be.  All my books thus far have been set on the Maine coastline.

 
5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?
 
I do my research mostly online, but do use books and people to gather information also.

 
6. Are you a draft writer or do you revise as you go along and why? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?
I definitely am a draft writer.  I write a very loose draft, skeleton really, and then go back and fill details. I don't plot out my books and the characters can really change my focus of the way I thought the book was going to do.  I have learned to let the characters drive it as the words will flow so much easier if I stop fighting them.

Emma Leigh Reed
FTHRW, President
WHERE BROKEN TRUST IS HEALED BY THE POWER OF LOVE
Crashing Hearts, released January 2012
Mirrored Deception, September 2012
Trusting Love, December 2013

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Thursday's Opening Scene - Intro to Dian the second heroine in Moon Summoned



Light woke her a second time. Bright sunshine streamed through small windows set high on the gray stone wall. A woman with brown hair stood beside the cot. Who is she? Where was this place? If this was a dream, why did the water feel warm and the cloth rough? The soap smelled of flowers, but the scent was unfamiliar.

She tried to grasp flickering memories of another time, another place. She caught glimpses of women in white and heard a wheezing sound. Her eyes opened again.

“Mother, she wakes.”

At first, she had difficulty making the syllables form words. Slowly she began to understand. A girl with auburn hair touched her arm.

“Who? Where?” The words seemed wrong.

“I’m Sammi. This is the stronghold of Prince Genrai. He’s most anxious that you recover. Who are you?”

She frowned and reached for an answer. Two sets of memories collided. “D...Dian. Where’s the respirator? When will Margo come? Am I well enough for the Olympic trials?”

“What is she talking about?” The voice belonged to an older woman.

“I don’t know,” the girl said. “Perhaps those who follow the one I may not name have a secret language.” She grasped Dian’s hand. “You’re Dian and I’m Sammi. This is Quanta, my mother and first woman of the prince’s inner court.”

Dian flexed her fingers and ran her hands along her body. “What have you done to me?”

“You were ill from wound fever and from a blow to your head. My uncle who is a physician of the Thamaturg feared you would die. He permitted me to use my small skills on you.”

Dian closed her eyes. The memories of other times and places were gone. A deep sadness she couldn’t explain brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t be afraid,” Sammi said. “You’ll soon be well.” Her brown eyes glowed. “Mother, may I have her for my personal attendant? Can she come with me when I leave this court for the one belonging to the man my father chooses for me?”

“Your father has other plans for her.” The older woman’s dark eyes glowed with anger. “I don’t know why he wants her. Genrai prefers women with more flesh.” She shrugged. “No matter. I’ll send word she’s awake.”

Sammi wrinkled her nose. “She must have a bath. She smells of illness.”

Quanta laughed. “How well you know your father. Send for a restorative broth. After she drinks it have her taken to the baths.”

A short time later the first woman Dian had seen returned with a cup. Dian sipped the savory liquid and pondered over the unfamiliar taste.

When she finished Sammi and the attendant helped Dian sit and then stand. Her legs shook. Her feet felt like leaden weights and her knees refused to bend. By the time they reached a room with three pools, her entire body shook.

“The middle one,” Sammi said.

Two women clad in purple smocks lowered Dian into the bath. When the warm water lapped her skin, she closed her eyes. Dual images arose. In one, she stood in a narrow box where a spray pelted her body. In the other, she swam in a tree-shaded pond. What did these visions mean? While one of the women washed her hair, Dian tried to sort true memories from false ones.

Once bathed the women rubbed her with sweet-smelling oil and combed her hair. She frowned. Had her hair always been this long or this pale? Once her hair was braided, she was wrapped in a towel and helped to the cot.

Dian felt as though she’d completed a month’s training in a single hour. Through a haze of sleep, she heard a man’s voice. “She will live and your father will be pleased. Now you can be marketed as one with healing skills.”

“Thank you, Uncle Maldon.”

Dian opened her eyes a slit. The bearded man wore a gray robe with bands of livid blue at the neck and on the sleeves. The color brought a rush of uneasiness. She frowned. Healers were women. They wore dark blue divided skirts and tunics in shades of blue that denoted their level of skill.

Sleep drew her into darkness and chaotic dreams.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Tagging The Characters


Now that we know all the ways to tag a character how often do we use them, and how many for each character. Much depends on their importance to the story, The walk-on character may need just the burly cabdriver. The prim secretary because they don't have much to do with the story. For major characters, there have to be enough tags so the reader immediately recognizes them when they step on stage. Major characters need a tag in each of the categories and perhaps more than one.

Use the tags in an active way. Her eyes were green. Boring. Show those green eyes snapping, turning glacial, and giving the reader an insight into what the character is doing. He had broad shoulders. Show those shoulders pushing his way into a crowded room or tensing before he swings a punch at the villain. The picture is yours to paint.

Wave those tags often. When you've chosen each characters tags, use them to bring the characters solidly into the reader's mind. One thing here to remember is not to use the tags in the same way every time the character is on stage. Also don't use the same tag every time the character appears. When you have her push back her blonde hair from her face in chapter 1, 2, 3, 4. The reader will become bored. Find something else for her to do with that hair or find another tag, one of the at least 4 you've created for the main character of your story.