Meandering on Monday with Janet Lane Walters

Meander 1 - I've come to the conclusion that when I'm reading a book that's all right, there comes a time when I must look at the last chapter before I can read any more of the story. This becomes my boredom point. Often once I read the end, I read no more. Other times, the end inspires me to keep reading. Last week, this happened with three books. Two of them because of an obligation I had to force myself to complete the books. One, suddenly the purpose of the book leaped into focus and I found I enjoyed the reading.

Meander 2 - Finally am going to get the last of the Affinities series into paper so I can try the local bookstore and see if I can have a signing there. He doesn't like romance so perhaps he'll like YA that has no romance. I can show him is he takes the books from me rather than ordering them he can make more money. We will see.

Meander 3 - Am working on the draft of Melodic Dreams that will finish finding plot holes and address time issues as well as put more meaat into the characters emotions. This is going well and hopefully this will be finished by the end of March,

3 Blog Visit Sunday Discoveries by Janet Lane Walters

http://www.michaelqtodd.com/first-7-days-google-plus-megaball-gplus-tips

http://www.emlynley.com/blog/2014/01/january-writers-taxtip/

http://bwlpp.blogspot.com/2014/01/sweet-on-you-valentines-contest.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BooksYoullLoveFromBooksWeLove+%28Books+You%27ll+Love+from+Books+We+Love%29

Saturday's Excerpt from Devil Moon by Andrea Parnell

Meet Rhys and Teddy from Devil Moon by Andrea Parnell

Inside the Brass Bell Saloon, Teddy Gamble led to a corner table, kicked back a chair and sat.

“Marc André Rhys Delmar at your service, mademoiselle.” Smiling to full effect, Rhys slid into a second chair and squared himself across the scarred bar table from Teddy Gamble. Her expression was that of a caged cat, one of pent-up energy and barely held-back anger. He stared at her because it was impossible to do otherwise. She was like no woman he’d ever seen. Her face was finely boned. And her hands had tanned a honey-brown from the sun. They were nearly the same color as the fringed buckskin shirt and trousers she wore. Her eyes, all banked with angry fire, were the most striking he’d ever encountered, a glowing green color as remarkable as the stones she wore.

“It’s plain Teddy, here,” she said. “I don’t need any mademoiselle or mouthful of names to know who I am.”

With a whisk of her hand, she pushed the dusty hat from her head and sailed it into the seat of an empty chair at the table. Rhys had been prepared for a cropped head of straggly hair but was surprised to discover that Teddy Gamble had an abundance of shining tawny locks which had been gathered in a braid and pinned beneath her hat. With some relief he concluded he’d been right to suspect that the woman had at least a tiny element of femininity to her.

“A thousand pardons, mademoi—Teddy,” he said. “I only intended politeness.”

“Well don’t tangle yourself up in it,” Teddy snapped. “Just spit out why it is you think you’re part owner of the Gamble Line.”

Rhys flashed another smile. “It is not what I think. It is what is true.” He fished in his inside coat pocket for the leather packet in which he’d placed the papers given him by Zachary Gamble. “Monsieur Zachary Gamble wagered his share of the company in a game of cards.” With what was, to Teddy, agonizing slowness, he spread the papers on the table for her to view. “He lost.”

Teddy’s heart faltered a beat. Her Uncle Zack’s exaggerated penmanship was unmistakable. He’d signed his interest in the company over to the Frenchman as a pledge against a gambling loss. And evidently her Uncle Zack had either been unable or unwilling to ante up the cash to buy that interest back.

But be that as it may, Teddy wasn’t about to accept the fancy man’s claim without a challenge. “Uncle Zack will have to tell me himself that he surrendered his interest to you,” she said coldly. “For all I know you robbed him and forged that signature.”

Rhys blanched white. He came halfway out of his chair, then thought better of his action and eased himself down again. “Mademoi—” He paused, blew out a long breath then spoke with deliberate slowness to Teddy. “If Monsieur Gamble could tell anyone anything I would not have come halfway across the world to redeem these documents.”

“What do you mean?” Teddy hissed.

“Your uncle is dead.”

Friday's How She Does It featuring Andrea Parnell

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?

Any one of these elements could be the first spark of a story for me. It is like catching a crystal ball then looking to see what is in my hands and beginning there. Afterwards, I get more methodical and pretty much follow the six elements as you have laid them out.

1.      How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific method?

 Characters are the most fun about writing. I do extensive character development using a chart I adapted decades ago and which is posted on my blog at AndreaParnell.com. Once I complete the chart, I know much more about the character than is ever likely to appear in the book, but who knows, there might be a sequel one day.

Coming up with the physicality is much more magical. Once I saw a lovely woman dash out of a salon. She had stunning blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. I've no idea who she was, but she became the image in my mind as I created the heroine in a romantic suspense. As for heroes, I've always got a few, usually dark-haired and blue-eyed, waiting in my imagination.

2. Do your characters come before the plot?

There is a synchronicity in the beginning of a story coming to fruition. After that first spark, I get an idea for a plot and the characters appear simultaneously to flesh it out. That is what I mean about characters being the most fun. They show up ready to live out their story and, maybe, the day before we had no idea we would all meet.

3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?

  
For the first few books I wrote, the last page was written first. That is how the process started for me. It was all quite organic and spontaneous. That said, I'm something of a planner now, and for later books, I know how they will end but not specifically what will be on the last page.

4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around.
If at all possible, I visit the locale in which I am setting the books. I've been to Great Britain, Dominica in the West Indies, parts of Arizona and California, and all over my native state of Georgia.  When visiting the locale is not possible, I use travel books, books from the period, and other media that gives me good images of the locations. For houses or villages or other structures, I do sketches and keep a notebook with photos and other useful materials. In one of my other incarnations, I am a Home Economist. I like designing houses and rooms, and incorporating the fashion, food and social history of the day into my stories.

5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?

Most of my books are historicals and for those I like to use references from the time period of the setting. A university library has been invaluable for this. For quick references, the internet is pure bliss. An image, term, pattern of speech, or historically correct costume is right at my fingertips. I'm using it more and more for research.

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?My first draft is fairly complete. Afterwards I do numerous polishing drafts and finally make edits my publisher calls for. While I'm not nearly as fast or prolific as I would like to be, I believe writers should find the method, pace, and tempo that works best for them and not get caught up in comparing their output to that of other writers. Easier said than done but good for peace of mind.

Andrea Parnell
Author of Romance and Intrigue
@AndreaHParnell
FB Andrea Parnell Author

Thursday's Opening Scene from Moon's Choice by Janet Lane Walters

MOON’S CHOICE

By

Janet Lane Walters

Chapter 1

            Faith sat at the kitchen table and cradled a mug of tea.  Had she made the right decision?  Selling the farm gave her a chance to finish her education and provide for the children’s future.  She had seen a house in town near the community college and had enrolled to start the fall semester.  The house would be hers tomorrow.  There was money in the bank for the children’s education.  She should be dancing not feeling sad.

            The cup thudded on the table.  What would Jimmy think?  She wished she could ask him but he’d been dead for a year.  She also wished he had loved her as deeply as she had loved him.  Not that she resented the marriage.  He had been the man she was destined to love.

            Her aunt entered the kitchen from the porch.  “How are the children?”

            “The twins and Patty are in bed and Buddy’s reading.”  Faith sighed.

            “Child, you’re doing the right thing.”

            Faith nodded.  “I can’t help thinking about the land being in Jimmy’s family since they came to this country.  What if one of the children resents leaving?  One of the might want to be a farmer?”

            Grace Lowe poured a cup of coffee.  “Haven’t seen any of them showing a love for the land.  They’re young.  They’ll adapt.”

            Faith laughed.  “Maybe better than their mother.”

            Grace sat at the table.  “How would it have been until you lost the land to the taxman?  You sold the stock and the machinery to pay him.  You’ve the chickens, one milk cow and the kitchen garden.  Sold your ring last year to buy school clothes for Buddy and the twins.  House is falling apart.”

            “I know but I still wonder what Jimmy would think.”

            “No question there.  About the money and how much drinking he and his buddies could manage.”  The older woman walked to the screen door.  “Moon’s full tonight.  You might catch a glimpse of him in the moon pool at the Lodge.”  She dangled her car keys.  “Take these.  I’m here in case one of the kids wakes.”

            Should she, Faith wondered.  Why not?  The pool in the maze had shown him once.  She checked herself in the age-speckled mirror.  “I won’t be long.”

            “Take your time.”

            When Faith pulled into the parking lot at Quinnesec Lodge she frowned.  She’d forgotten this was the day the last group of guests arrived and were served dessert in the garden near the maze.  A wave of sadness slipped around her.  Soon there would be a different kind of guest here.  Instead of vacationers, business people would come for retreats and conferences.

            She left the car and stood in the shadows cast by a large oak tree.  A group of people wandered past.  Their laughter over the legend made Faith want to confront them but she refrained lest she be identified as an intruder.

            The legend was true.  On the night of a full moon a seeker could see the image of their true love in the water.  Ten years ago she had seen Jimmy.

            A few more people strolled from the garden.  One of the staff dimmed most of the lanterns while others gathered the remains of the welcome party.  Once they left Faith slipped into the garden and reached the entrance to the maze.  She ducked inside the boxwood hedge and caught her breath.  Did she remember the path to the center?

            She closed her eyes and envisioned the route.  Inhaling deeply she chose the second from the right of the five openings and made her way along the gravel path.  Clouds skimmed across the moon forcing her to stop several times.  When she reached the end of the path she crossed the grass to the pool.

            Faith knelt on the stone-lined edge.  For a short time she wondered how the area had appeared before the Lodge had been built.  Trees would have surrounded the clearing.  Perhaps animals had come for water.  There would have been wild flowers growing near the pone.  And on the night of the full moon an Indian maiden had seen the face of her true love.

            Her thoughts calmed.  She brought memories of her dead husband to the fore.  “Jimmy, I had to sell the farm.  I’ve already sold everything I could to pay the taxes.  When the children were ill, without the kindness of strangers, I would have lost them.”

            She bent her head and gazed into the pool.  Moonlight sparkled on the dark water.  Slowly they formed the face of the man she had loved.  Tears trickled over her cheeks and splashed on the image.  The features changed.  She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp.

            The man she saw was blond.  She didn’t know him yet he seemed vaguely familiar.  Perhaps the set of his eyes or the stubborn chin sparked a fleeting memory of someone she had known.

            What did it mean?  She had already seen her true love in the pool.  Was it possible to find true love a second time?  Not wanting to consider the idea she rose and rushed along the twisting path toward the garden.

            When she reached her aunt’s car she sat and shook.  What did the vision mean?  She had no time to search for a particular face among strangers.  The moment her churning emotions settled she drove home.

            Her aunt waited on the porch.  “You look as scared as a raccoon caught in the hen house.”

            “I saw Jimmy.  His face changed into a stranger’s.”

            “I’m glad.”

            “Why?  I loved Jimmy with everything I was.  How could I ever love another man?”

            The older woman glanced at the sky.  “Moon’s choice.  You’re too young to remain alone.  I believe the moon offers you another chance.  Don’t make my mistake.  There’s nothing wrong with finding love again.”  She opened the screen door.  “I’m for bed.  The imps will be up with the sun.”

            Faith nodded.  “I’ll sit awhile.”

            After her aunt left, Faith sat on the edge of the porch.  She stared at the full moon.  Though she knew the time to move on had arrived she felt edgy.  She wasn’t sure she was ready or even wanted another love.

* * *

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Putting Your Character In Hot Water

For characters to have everything going their way doesn't make for interesting reading. Give them inadequacies. What areas of their life are they vulnerable? Problems are found in the areas of character development. These areas are Physical, Environment, Experiences and View of the world.

We've all seen beautiful women or handsome men who don't believe they are as others see them. Some of these people carry their views of their body to extremes but those aren't the characters we want to focus on at least for heroes and heroines. We want those with characteristics that give them a vulnerability. Like the woman who hates her straight hair and wants curls. What you need to look at is the reason behind why they want to change their body or why they think their physical appearance doesn't suit them. Perhaps her friend Mary always received favorable remarks about her curls. Maybe our heroine's mother tried to give Susy curls and failed. There are always underlying reasons for the character to feel inadequate in some area.

As to the environment. Where a child grows up will work on them giving them a feeling of inadequacy. Say he grew up in a mansion and was pampered and he feels lost when he must move from this area. Or the farmboy coming to the city might find he feels lost. This gives a vulnerability the writer can use to effect and make the character seem alive.

How about the character's experiences in life? Think of the abused child, the pampered one. Think about what your character has experienced in life. Develop a story where the hero or heroine must move out of their area of experience. How do they handle something that seems foreign to what they have always known.

The last is the view of the world. This is showing how the character reacts to others. He or she may be one person with friends who hold the same view of the world. Throw the character into a group with different ideas of what's right and wrong and you have a place to show their inadequacies.

So give your characters problems and there is room for inner conflicts that may be at cross purposes with the outer conflicts and you have characters who move off the page.

Tuesday's Inspiration - More Tidbits on The Writer's Mind

Do you have both a shameless playfulness and earnestness that can be embarrassing. Both are found in the writer's mind. Don't know about you but sometimes lines occur when I'm writing and become part of the story that are sort of twisted but funny. Rather irreverent remarks the characters say that you never would in conversation.

Another quality a writer's mind can display is patience. The kind of patience as you would find when a cat sits for hours and watches waiting to pounce. Spending time waiting for the right expression. I know I've sat with pen in hand thinking and thinking and suddenly the right words form and they move across the page. This I find hard to do on the computer but sitting in my recliner I can spend this thoughtful time until I pounce.

This one is one I cultivate and that's a criminal streak of cunning. Very necessary if one writes mysteries and suspense but also useful in other genres of fiction.  How to take the same old story and make it new takes this kind of cunning. Have you ever been reading another writer's work and thought to yourself, "that's not the wy things should work." then your writer's mind takes and twists that idea and makes it your own. Of course there is danger in this but the cunning mind will find a way to make that idea yours.

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters

Meander 1 At a meeting on Saturday I heard some interesting thoughts on piracy of ebooks and I shook my head. "You can't stop it," one person said. "Why fight it." she added. Another person said she felt insulted when one of her books wasn't pirated because she felt she hadn't arrived as a writer. A third comment was that people who pirated weren't going to buy your book. Perhaps this is true but they also pass your book along to other people who might have bought the book. What bothers me about this is what if someone stole their credit card or even the change from their purse. Would they give the same excuses?  I'm not sure what the answer is but to me theft is theft.

Meander 2 Winter. This has been an interesting winter. The snow was lovely when it came and great when it melted. What I really hated were those few days of bitter temperatures. They aren't good for old bones. And my bones are getting old. Of course there is summer and the temperatures could soar. Guess Spring and Autumn are my favorite seasons.

Meander 3 Writing is moving ahead on Melodic Dreams and one of these days I'll be able to ship it off. Ideas are happening for the fourth of the MoonChild series and I've also some thoughts for the fifth. So we will see what happens as I move ahead. Besides finishing a dreft of Melodic I'll be blocking out the one with a Gemini hero but there is no title yet. Need one to reflect the duality of Gemini.

3 blog Visit Sunday discoveries by Janet Lane Walters

http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/digital/content-and-e-books/article/60589-scribd-responds-to-writer-beware-on-pirated-content.html?utm_source=Publishers+Weekly&utm_campaign=60996357df-UA-15906914-1&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_0bb2959cbb-60996357df-304585013 Though not a blog this is an important reading

http://miadowning.blogspot.com/ a lot about writing

http://obscurekidlitauthors.blogspot.com/

Saturday's Excerpt from Lie Catchers by Rolynn Anderson

EXERPT:

         Parker touched her shoulder.

         “May I have this dance?”

         Liv twirled to find him so close she could smell beer on his breath. A hint of cologne. Had he shaved recently? Smiling at the thought he might have done that for her, she gave him her right hand and rested her left hand on his shirt collar, intent on finding a way to  touch his chin to answer the shaving question. But the shave-or-not dilemma was a minor one.  She’d already screwed up with one man tonight; would she make a wrong move with Parker, too?  

         She drew her thumb along his chin and sighed at the silky smoothness. Forget the man’s mouthful of queries and his intense gaze. Just dance. While the singer lamented over loosing her mind, Liv’s body disappeared into Parker’s. Soothed, she was and aroused at the same time, aware Parker knew not to use words. A close shave and a close dance spoke volumes. She was the silent one, afraid to say what might start an avalanche of sentences, lowering her guard, exposing too much to the wrong person at the worst time. This man who held her was a cop and she was on his list of murder suspects. Even if Parker was unorthodox as an investigator, he still held the power of his profession. The reason for his offer to dance wasn’t clear, was it?

         The strumming ended, emptying the room of the singer’s piercing ballad.

         “Good night, Liv. And thank you for the dance.”

         Parker kissed her on the forehead, walked out the door and closed it quietly, taking with him all the unasked questions she would never answer.