Last week was about the two kinds of Writers. This week we'll look at the advantages of being a draft writer. Next week we'll look at the revise as you go type.
Not all draft writers work the same way. Some write out the rough draft on paper and the second draft is done on the computer. Others do many drafts by hand. Some print out the rough draft and makes changes until it must be typed again so they can see where they are. The main advantage of choosing this way to write is that the story is down and the revisions can be done chapter by chapter, scene by scene or looking at things like a dialogue revision, a character revision, a plot revision and as many drafts as it takes to make the story the best that can be done.
The rough draft gives the writer a place to start.
Now for some advantages.
1.A bit of psychology as the writer can say this is only rough.
2.The thrill of new discoveries and the excitement of seeing a story unfold.
3. A 2qy to discover where the story is going. For some draft writers the rough draft is little more than a lengthy synopsis sometimes pages and pages long.
4.Having a rough draft lets the writer know the entire story from beginning to end.
5.The early drafts give room to try new directions that may or may not work. Remember "it's only a draft."
The time between drafts allows the writer time to change directions if needed, to plan new scenes or to develop sketchy ones into full and satisfying scenes.
I think of draft writers as painters starting with the base coat and adding the details to make the story, like a painting, come alive.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Thursday's Interview Myrna Nour 5
.Myra and I both write for NCP. Though I don't know her in person, I do know her from the writing game.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I under the umbrella of Paranormal romance. Under that, I write a wide range of areas, including vampires, werewolves, fairies, mermaids, a genie, shapeshifters, futuristics, and time travel.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
I started with Love's Captive, a futuristic romance. It chose me because I dreamed the story during the night. It was like a video playing through my mind for hours. I saw planet Volarn, met many of the characters, saw some of the plotline, and even "overheard" some of the discussions between characters. It was amazing. I have dreamed other stories since then, but nothing as vivid.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I have already started on a genre I love to read - horror. I am a big fan of The Walking Dead, and yes, the story is a zombie horror with no romance at all!! I'm having a blast writing it.
The funny thing is, until a few years ago I was terrified of zombies in movies. But then my daughter, Chris, dragged me to Resident Evil and I was hooked. It has become a family tradition that the whole family goes to see the Resident Evil movies.
Chris kept saying I should write a zombie book. I said, no because it would scare me too much, since I figure out plotlines in my sleep a lot. Plus, I figured just about all the angles have been covered on these stories. And if I couldn't come up with an original idea, why do it? Bam! A few days later I came up with a really cool idea and the heroine is so lick ass it doesn't scare me to write it.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Lately, horror, especially zombie fiction.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I jotted a few poems through the early years after HS, but I really didn't become interested in writing until I dreamed Love's Captive in 1977. After that I started writing short stories and have had quite a few published in small magazines. I read these to my kids and Simon (hubby), and of course told them about Volarn. They kept urging me to write Love's Captive until I finally did in 1996. It got published in 2001 by New Concepts Publishing.
After that, things just continued to roll along, with getting more books published with NCP, and others with Ellora's Cave.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Eric is my favorite hero in Heart of the Dragon. He is a soldier, a Green Beret, of course handsome, with a sensitive side, and a wonderful sense of humor. Along with Eric, there is his love interest, the spoiled warrior princess Kasha and their "child" Puff the dragon.
I also love Serena and Rhamus because they are not only strong, wonderful characters, but the main ones that started this writing journey for me.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
In my NCP books there is a family of villains on Volarn, starting with Xarath who kidnapped Queen Serena. Then his brother Joulo took over after he was killed. There is a 3rd brother but he is only mentioned in passing in the first two books and will appear later in the series.
In Pirate's Wench there was a villainous pirate captain who tried to rape the heroine, but the hero rescues her.
I don't know how I created the villains, just like I don't know where I get some of the wildly imaginative ideas I have. From my vivid imagination I guess.
8. What are you working on now?
Finishing up "Wanted: Handsome Alien Abductor", the 4th book in the River of Dreams series, slated to be published by NCP in the summer.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
Pirate's Wench. Again, don't know where the idea came from. It was the 3rd book in the River of Dreams series. Maybe my love of Captain Jack had something to do with it.:)
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
This excerpt is from Pirate's Wench. Sarah wishes to meet a real pirate and spend some fun-filled days in adventures on the high seas. The River Goddess grants her wish and she is transported to the past.
I decided to put this excerpt when Sarah wonders what kind of pirate the Goddess has given her. It is humorous. But the captain is not a drunk, just celebrating his victory in capturing a rich merchant ship.
A loud bang awoke her, and Sarah sat up with a gasp.
“Damn, it’s dark in here.”
Her heart calmed from its rapid beat. It was only the Captain, cursing in the dark room.
She’d slept for hours. Sarah listened as he stumbled around, and then the candle on his desk
flared. When he turned, she sat up.
“What’s this, an angel come to visit?” He picked up the candleholder and swayed toward
her.
The smell of rum preceded him. Oh no, he was drunk. It was hard to predict what
people would act like while inebriated. Violence was not something she wanted to contend with,
and some people were mean drunks.
“I’m Sarah, don’t you remember?” she snapped.
He lurched forward, struck the bed’s wood side, and fell to his knees. The string of
curses that erupted surprised her, even though she’d heard her share growing up with brothers.
He righted his body, and swung the candleholder toward her. The heat of the candle flicked near
her face and she said, “shit.”
“An angel cursing?”
By the faint light she could see the shocked look on his face. Her mouth quirked but she
held in her laughter.
“Sarah,” she stated slowly, as if speaking to an idiot.
“Oh, lass,” he hiccupped.
The candle veered toward her again, barely missing her chin.
“That thing is a lethal weapon.” She pushed his hand away.
“Ah.”
The light dipped down as he placed it on the floor, and then his upper body came back
up. He was swaying.
“Give us a kiss lass.”
He had a silly grin plastered across his face, and his rum breath hit her full on. In disgust
she shoved him backward, hard. He toppled over like a stone, hitting the floor with a thud and a
loud groan.
Jeez, did I kill him? Getting off the bed carefully so she wouldn’t trip over him, Sarah
leaned over, but it was difficult to see. Picking up the candleholder, she held it over his face. He
looked dead.
A drop of candle wax hit his cheek and he mumbled, swiping at it once. She shook her
head. He was simply passed-out drunk.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I under the umbrella of Paranormal romance. Under that, I write a wide range of areas, including vampires, werewolves, fairies, mermaids, a genie, shapeshifters, futuristics, and time travel.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
I started with Love's Captive, a futuristic romance. It chose me because I dreamed the story during the night. It was like a video playing through my mind for hours. I saw planet Volarn, met many of the characters, saw some of the plotline, and even "overheard" some of the discussions between characters. It was amazing. I have dreamed other stories since then, but nothing as vivid.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I have already started on a genre I love to read - horror. I am a big fan of The Walking Dead, and yes, the story is a zombie horror with no romance at all!! I'm having a blast writing it.
The funny thing is, until a few years ago I was terrified of zombies in movies. But then my daughter, Chris, dragged me to Resident Evil and I was hooked. It has become a family tradition that the whole family goes to see the Resident Evil movies.
Chris kept saying I should write a zombie book. I said, no because it would scare me too much, since I figure out plotlines in my sleep a lot. Plus, I figured just about all the angles have been covered on these stories. And if I couldn't come up with an original idea, why do it? Bam! A few days later I came up with a really cool idea and the heroine is so lick ass it doesn't scare me to write it.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Lately, horror, especially zombie fiction.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I jotted a few poems through the early years after HS, but I really didn't become interested in writing until I dreamed Love's Captive in 1977. After that I started writing short stories and have had quite a few published in small magazines. I read these to my kids and Simon (hubby), and of course told them about Volarn. They kept urging me to write Love's Captive until I finally did in 1996. It got published in 2001 by New Concepts Publishing.
After that, things just continued to roll along, with getting more books published with NCP, and others with Ellora's Cave.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Eric is my favorite hero in Heart of the Dragon. He is a soldier, a Green Beret, of course handsome, with a sensitive side, and a wonderful sense of humor. Along with Eric, there is his love interest, the spoiled warrior princess Kasha and their "child" Puff the dragon.
I also love Serena and Rhamus because they are not only strong, wonderful characters, but the main ones that started this writing journey for me.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
In my NCP books there is a family of villains on Volarn, starting with Xarath who kidnapped Queen Serena. Then his brother Joulo took over after he was killed. There is a 3rd brother but he is only mentioned in passing in the first two books and will appear later in the series.
In Pirate's Wench there was a villainous pirate captain who tried to rape the heroine, but the hero rescues her.
I don't know how I created the villains, just like I don't know where I get some of the wildly imaginative ideas I have. From my vivid imagination I guess.
8. What are you working on now?
Finishing up "Wanted: Handsome Alien Abductor", the 4th book in the River of Dreams series, slated to be published by NCP in the summer.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
Pirate's Wench. Again, don't know where the idea came from. It was the 3rd book in the River of Dreams series. Maybe my love of Captain Jack had something to do with it.:)
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
This excerpt is from Pirate's Wench. Sarah wishes to meet a real pirate and spend some fun-filled days in adventures on the high seas. The River Goddess grants her wish and she is transported to the past.
I decided to put this excerpt when Sarah wonders what kind of pirate the Goddess has given her. It is humorous. But the captain is not a drunk, just celebrating his victory in capturing a rich merchant ship.
A loud bang awoke her, and Sarah sat up with a gasp.
“Damn, it’s dark in here.”
Her heart calmed from its rapid beat. It was only the Captain, cursing in the dark room.
She’d slept for hours. Sarah listened as he stumbled around, and then the candle on his desk
flared. When he turned, she sat up.
“What’s this, an angel come to visit?” He picked up the candleholder and swayed toward
her.
The smell of rum preceded him. Oh no, he was drunk. It was hard to predict what
people would act like while inebriated. Violence was not something she wanted to contend with,
and some people were mean drunks.
“I’m Sarah, don’t you remember?” she snapped.
He lurched forward, struck the bed’s wood side, and fell to his knees. The string of
curses that erupted surprised her, even though she’d heard her share growing up with brothers.
He righted his body, and swung the candleholder toward her. The heat of the candle flicked near
her face and she said, “shit.”
“An angel cursing?”
By the faint light she could see the shocked look on his face. Her mouth quirked but she
held in her laughter.
“Sarah,” she stated slowly, as if speaking to an idiot.
“Oh, lass,” he hiccupped.
The candle veered toward her again, barely missing her chin.
“That thing is a lethal weapon.” She pushed his hand away.
“Ah.”
The light dipped down as he placed it on the floor, and then his upper body came back
up. He was swaying.
“Give us a kiss lass.”
He had a silly grin plastered across his face, and his rum breath hit her full on. In disgust
she shoved him backward, hard. He toppled over like a stone, hitting the floor with a thud and a
loud groan.
Jeez, did I kill him? Getting off the bed carefully so she wouldn’t trip over him, Sarah
leaned over, but it was difficult to see. Picking up the candleholder, she held it over his face. He
looked dead.
A drop of candle wax hit his cheek and he mumbled, swiping at it once. She shook her
head. He was simply passed-out drunk.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Wednesday - On Plotting - Using Melodrama
Now we come for some ways to use the unusual talent, unplanned but potent meeting or anything that's over the top. There are a number of ways to harness melodrams and make it work in the book. While looking into this subject, I realized I often used something like this in a story. There have been prophecies that trigger the action, there are talents that are out of the ordinary and there have been meetings between hero and heroine that may be thought unlikely in real life. I may have to break this into two sections since there are a number of ways to use this method to rouse interest in the story and to keep readers from being jerked out of the action and thinking this is impossible and putting the book aside and unread.
1. Show that it works immediately. Introduce your premise in the opening pages and show rather than tell. Make your out of the box premise begin on page one. If your characters have magical qualities show them using them. If there's a prophecy that will be fulfilled show the character or characters learning of it in the beginning. If the hero and heroine are fated to meet, let the reader know right away.
2. Another way can be to show this has worked in the past. This can be woven into the opening pages with the character learning about what happtned in the past. A past event can't be changed, therefore your melodramatic bit must be true. Thus the reader will believe the unbelievable.
3.Choose a believable character and have him believe in the piece of melodrama. Don't have disbelievers enter the picture until the premise is firmly established in the reader's view. Show the ordinary character accepting the premise.
4.Surround the premise with ordinary objects and events. Realistic happenings call for belief. Show the characters doing usual things even though there is this bizarre bit of melodrama hovering in the wings and beneath the action of the story. Don't suddenly jump from one genre into another. If you're writing a book that crosses genres, make this plain from the start. The reader will thank you and will continue on the journey you're telling.
There are four more ways to use the melodramatic moment in the story saved for next weel.
1. Show that it works immediately. Introduce your premise in the opening pages and show rather than tell. Make your out of the box premise begin on page one. If your characters have magical qualities show them using them. If there's a prophecy that will be fulfilled show the character or characters learning of it in the beginning. If the hero and heroine are fated to meet, let the reader know right away.
2. Another way can be to show this has worked in the past. This can be woven into the opening pages with the character learning about what happtned in the past. A past event can't be changed, therefore your melodramatic bit must be true. Thus the reader will believe the unbelievable.
3.Choose a believable character and have him believe in the piece of melodrama. Don't have disbelievers enter the picture until the premise is firmly established in the reader's view. Show the ordinary character accepting the premise.
4.Surround the premise with ordinary objects and events. Realistic happenings call for belief. Show the characters doing usual things even though there is this bizarre bit of melodrama hovering in the wings and beneath the action of the story. Don't suddenly jump from one genre into another. If you're writing a book that crosses genres, make this plain from the start. The reader will thank you and will continue on the journey you're telling.
There are four more ways to use the melodramatic moment in the story saved for next weel.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Tuesday's Inspiration -- Bird by Bird - Writer's Voice
This essay by Anne Lamott really had me thinking. The writer's voice is sometimes hard to explain and my feeling is that each writer develops their own manner and style. Months ago I was playing on this site about Who Do I Write like. I took bits and pieces from a number of my stories, I think 10 and they came out to 10 different writers. Then I wondered what would happen if I took bits from the same story that had different areas like dialogue, suspense, description and I can't remember what else. I entered them one at a time and each section came up a different writer. A light sort of dawned. Did this mean I have an unique voice? Perhaps.
I also heard Debra Dixon speak at EPICon about the writer's voice. While she was speaking I went off on a tangent of thought. Are their talismans or specific things that creep into a writing. As I mulled this I'm sure I missed a bit of what she was saying but some things leaped our at me. Gems are often mentioned in my stories and I do like precious and non-precious stones that are pretty. I've also done a lot of reading about the lore of gems. Another thing that comes in many of my stories are caves and dark places but I also found these to be resting and thinking places for my characters. Places where they solve their problems.
Another point about a writer's voice is how often when beginning to write, a writer will imitate either consciously or unconsciously their favorite writers. I'm sure some of this imitation sticks but each writer puts their own spin on the words, the moods and all. I once judged a contest where I had three books from the same publisher and one thing jumped out. Was there a writer's voice. Though the stories were different they could have been written by the same person. Had some editor tampered with the writer's voice or were these new writers just coming into their own as writers? I'll never know the answer but it is something to think about.
Somewhere in my list of places I sometimes visit I have the Who Do I write like place. If anyone's interested let me know and I'll try to send it to you.
I also heard Debra Dixon speak at EPICon about the writer's voice. While she was speaking I went off on a tangent of thought. Are their talismans or specific things that creep into a writing. As I mulled this I'm sure I missed a bit of what she was saying but some things leaped our at me. Gems are often mentioned in my stories and I do like precious and non-precious stones that are pretty. I've also done a lot of reading about the lore of gems. Another thing that comes in many of my stories are caves and dark places but I also found these to be resting and thinking places for my characters. Places where they solve their problems.
Another point about a writer's voice is how often when beginning to write, a writer will imitate either consciously or unconsciously their favorite writers. I'm sure some of this imitation sticks but each writer puts their own spin on the words, the moods and all. I once judged a contest where I had three books from the same publisher and one thing jumped out. Was there a writer's voice. Though the stories were different they could have been written by the same person. Had some editor tampered with the writer's voice or were these new writers just coming into their own as writers? I'll never know the answer but it is something to think about.
Somewhere in my list of places I sometimes visit I have the Who Do I write like place. If anyone's interested let me know and I'll try to send it to you.
Monday, June 6, 2011
6 June -- Week ahead and week behind -- Reluctant heros
As usual, last week was a busy one. Finished the final edits on The Henge Betrayed -- Quests. Managed to reconfigure The Doctor's Dilemma for Books We Love Publishing Partnership and sent it off. Managed to block out the ending of A Sudden Seduction and am busy getting the rough draft completed and some revisions on the first few chapters. Went to my granddaughter's dance recital and watched her perform. She's the smallest in her age group but very into doing things perfectly.
Coming this week -- Being featured at New Concepts on the author promotion page and doing a chat there from 7 to 9 on the 8th. Hopefully the page will be up soon since the web designer was a bit behind. I will check soon. Tuesday will be Bird BY Bird Inspirations, Wednesday more on Plot. Thursday's interview is with Myra Nour a fellow NCP author, Friday is looking at Revisions, Saturday ist chapter will be A Marriage -- Inconvenient and Sunday three blog visits.
Will keep moving on A Sudden Seduction- The hero of this book was the most reluctant I've ever had. Showed him 10 heroines before he was able to pick one and even then he tried to fight but he is caught majorly.
What about you? Ever have a reluctant hero, one who is picky about the woman he will spend the rest of his fictional life with?
Coming this week -- Being featured at New Concepts on the author promotion page and doing a chat there from 7 to 9 on the 8th. Hopefully the page will be up soon since the web designer was a bit behind. I will check soon. Tuesday will be Bird BY Bird Inspirations, Wednesday more on Plot. Thursday's interview is with Myra Nour a fellow NCP author, Friday is looking at Revisions, Saturday ist chapter will be A Marriage -- Inconvenient and Sunday three blog visits.
Will keep moving on A Sudden Seduction- The hero of this book was the most reluctant I've ever had. Showed him 10 heroines before he was able to pick one and even then he tried to fight but he is caught majorly.
What about you? Ever have a reluctant hero, one who is picky about the woman he will spend the rest of his fictional life with?
Sunday, June 5, 2011
3 Blog Visit Sunday
http://ohgetagrip.blogspot.com/?zx=cf38b9230d5b9190 Interesting on stalking readers
http://smallstepstobigchange.com/?p=518 Psychological warfare - interesting
http://fitfulred.blogspot.com/2011/06/ about Histories and magic
http://smallstepstobigchange.com/?p=518 Psychological warfare - interesting
http://fitfulred.blogspot.com/2011/06/ about Histories and magic
Saturday, June 4, 2011
1st Chapter Saturday -- On Opposite Sides
One of the first I write when I returned to the field of writing after being a nurse. Took a few years to be published. Then I discovered electronic publishing.
On Opposite Sides
Janet Lane Walters
New Concepts Publishing
ISBN 1-58608-463-1
On Opposite Sides
Chapter 1
With a flourish, Jenessa signed her name to the nurses’ notes on a fourth chart. She picked up a stack of papers and the brown bag containing the lunch she hadn’t had time to eat. All day, the pace in the Intensive Care unit had been hectic. Two Codes. Three admissions in five minutes, all of them critical. Instead of twenty-seven, she felt more like seventy.
She waved at the night nurse. “See you tomorrow.”
“That’s two extras in a row,” one of the women called. “Are you some kind of glutton?”
Am I? One more thing and I’m out of here. She straight-armed the door and headed for the stairs. After stopping on two other units to collect protest forms, she entered the stairwell.
Voices, eerie and distorted, drifted from below. The echo-effect made her wonder if the speakers were male or female. “Don’t worry, if we just push them a little harder, they’ll walk.”
“You’re right. Who could resist --”
Who were they talking about? She leaned over the railing, but shadows hid the speakers. The voices faded. A door slammed. She frowned and headed to the fifth floor where she entered the Nursing Office.
Lorraine Rodgers, one of the evening supervisors, looked up. “Again? Don’t you get tired of making waves?”
“Is that what I do? I thought I was fulfilling my role as a good union member and a conscientious nurse. The contract gives us the right to protest unsafe working conditions. I just make sure they’re collected.”
The middle-aged woman shook her head. “We all know this is your personal crusade. Can’t you put the past to rest?”
Jenessa’s hands clenched and she felt the muscles in her shoulders tighten. “Could you?” She fought a barrage of memories. “See that Ms. Wallace gets these. Not that she cares.”
“You could give them to her. She’s in the house. The Board’s meeting to select the new Director and we all know who that will be.”
“Maybe they’ll choose someone else.”
Mrs. Rodgers laughed. “Do you really believe that? She’s been angling for the job since she arrived. We’ll have to learn to live with her.”
“Maybe.”
“Another petition asking for Sandra’s removal?”
Jenessa shrugged. “See you tomorrow.”
“You’re on again? Do you work all these extra shifts just to log complaints?”
“If I don’t, who’d be here for the patients?” Jenessa strode away.
Fifteen minutes later, in her apartment across the street, she stood in the shower. Hot water uncoiled her tight muscles, but not her thoughts. Would the hospital Board really name Sandra Wallace, a woman disliked by most of the nurses, as the new director? With Jim Bishop as Board president, the choice seemed likely.
After pulling on an over-sized blue tee shirt, she headed to the kitchen and zapped the spicy chicken dish she should have eaten for lunch. Though she considered working on her Master’s thesis, she felt too tired to read the stack of articles on the desk.
The apartment door slammed. She looked up and saw her roommate. Megan kicked off her shoes. “Are you ready for a bomb? Guess what the Board has done.”
“Sandra.”
“Is out.” Megan grinned. “Josh and I were at the Cove for dinner. Sam introduced Eric Bradshaw. Would you believe he’s the new Director of Nursing? And what a hunk he is.”
Jenessa pushed back long strands of dark brown hair that had come loose from her braid. “You’re kidding.”
“Not one bit.”
“It’s a ploy. Can’t you hear Mr. Bishop’s laughter? We’ll give the girls a man to drool over. That’ll shut them up.”
“Come on, Jen. At least they didn’t name Her.” Megan headed across the living room, discarding pieces of clothes as she walked. “He’s every woman’s dream. Tall, blond, broad shoulders. I positively drooled. He’s got the greatest dimples. That’s because he’s a Libra.”
Trust Megan to ask his sun sign, Jenessa thought. Her roommate’s description confirmed her suspicions of the Board’s motives. “Sounds like you’re adding him to your string.”
“Wrong. A Libra and a Pisces. Odd couple material.” Megan’s blonde curls bounced with the force of her denial. “He’s for you, my Aries friend. Remember what I always say. An opposition can be exciting.”
Not again, Jenessa thought. For the past year, Megan’s attempts at matchmaking seemed designed to drive her crazy. “Megan, no.”
“You can’t be alone forever.”
“You’re surviving.”
“Alone I’m not. My problem is too many and being unable to hurt anyone.” She shrugged. “Give it a shot.”
Jenessa frowned. Megan and she had been friends since they were five, but there were things she couldn’t tell her…Things about Chuck and the marriage.
“I’m union. He’s management. Can you see me falling for someone from the opposition?”
“And what will you be when you finish your Master’s?”
“Not here. I’ll work for a doctor. Head to the city. Become a consultant.” She followed the trail of clothes and gathered them as she walked. “With my reputation here, they won’t promote me.”
“Your reputation is undeserved. Just because you organized the union, sent a
petition to recall Sandra, started the protest forms, negotiated the contract --”
The click of the bathroom door cut off Megan’s words.
Jenessa dropped the clothes beside the door. She entered the bedroom and stared at the red brick building across the street where she worked in ICU. She liked Eastlake Community. For nearly three years, the hospital had been her refuge. She didn’t want to leave.
She returned to the hall just as Megan emerged. wrapped in a blue bath sheet that nearly reached her toes.
“...use someone who plunges to the center of a problem and won’t give up until the next one appears. You are kind of blunt though. He’ll weigh his decisions. Libras do. What’s on the agenda now?” She stumbled over the heap of clothes. “I know. In the hamper.”
“The contract. Monday, I’ll demand a meeting.”
“Why not give Eric Bradshaw a chance to settle in?”
“Why? They said they’d talk once they hired a new director and they have.” Jenessa headed to the kitchen.
“It’s the same everywhere. Don’t you pay attention to the letters from the gang?”
“There are hospitals where the problems are addressed.” Jenessa picked up a fork.
“Around here no one admits there are any.”
“I’m not sure there are answers. The health care system is in flux.”
“If the Board would sit down with us, we could try.”
Megan grinned. “Do I see you, sword in hand, leading the charge?”
“Don’t make fun. This is serious.”
“I’m sorry. I know how important adequate staffing is to you.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get a decent contract.” Jenessa bit her lower lip and fought a storm of memories and guilt.
Megan opened the refrigerator and poured a glass of juice. “Letters from the gang are in. Did you do yours?”
“What do you think?” The idea for a monthly exchange of letters between the members of their clinical group from the nursing program at Grantley was Megan’s project.
“When are you going to write it?”
“How about after the softball game Saturday?”
“I’m mailing copies tomorrow.” Megan raised her hand in a gesture of surrender.
“I’ll write yours...About the game. Will we win?”
“We’d better. Softball is the one place where Nursing stands a chance against the other departments who, with one whimper, get everything they want.”
“He’ll be there.”
“Who?”
“Eric Bradshaw.” Megan left the kitchen. “Night.”
As Jenessa loaded the dishwasher, a slow grin built from deep inside. He’d be there. So would Jim Bishop and Sandra Wallace. The annual hospital picnic might be an interesting event.
*****
On Saturday morning at a few minutes after ten, Eric left his apartment. Moments later, his sneakers slapped against the asphalt surface of the path leading to Community Park. The shade beneath the oak and maple trees brought relief from the relentless August sun.
Today promised to be as hot as Eastlake Community would be if the problems that beaded like the sweat on his forehead weren’t solved. For an instant, he allowed himself to regret the injury that had ended his career as a cop and his decision to become a nurse, the way his father and a number of ex-cops he knew had done. During the week since his arrival, he’d asked himself a dozen times why he’d listened to Sam and applied for the position as Director of Nursing.
“Something fishy’s going on. I’m not sure who, what or why. You’ve got the training to dig out the info.”
In the past week, he’d learned a number of facts, but none were illegal. The nurse managers and supervisors couldn’t see or didn’t care about the signs of unrest among
the nurses. Sometimes, he thought administration was the problem. But since their contracts protected them, he couldn’t fire the lot.
He emerged from the tree-sheltered path and stopped to let a herd of children charge past. Where was Sam and where was the ballfield? His buddy had volunteered him as first base umpire for the game between the nurses and a team from the other departments.
“Eric, over here.”
He jogged toward the picnic table where Sam sat. The children returned. With the adroitness he’d once displayed on the football field, he twisted and evaded until he cleared the crowd.
“Just like old times, my man.” Sam’s brown hand slapped Eric’s.
“Hardly. Where’s your gaudy uniform?” When Eric had played football, Sam had been a member of the marching band. He’d also been pianist for the jazz ensemble. Eric rested his hands on his thighs until he caught his breath. “I’m too old for this.”
Sam laughed. “At thirty-two? In five minutes, I guarantee you’ll be rejuvenated.”
“About the game. Fun or serious?”
“A bit of both.” Sam slid from the table. “The captain and pitcher for the nurses is intense. She likes to win.”
“Is this a warning?”
Sam’s laughter rolled the way his fingers moved along the piano keys. “You’ll see. Wait ‘til you see her legs. Long and lean and stretching forever. Simone threatened to blacken my eyes if I leer. Grab a beer and let’s go.”
When Eric reached the field, he forgot the beer. The hospital’s problems vanished. He put the beer on the ground several yards from first base and stared at the pitcher. Sam had been on target.
He studied her exceptional legs until they vanished beneath brief red shorts. His stare lingered on the white tee shirt that clung to her small, yet perfect, breasts. Sunlight caught the red glints in her brown hair and turned them into flames. As she moved from the mound, his body reacted. How was he going to remember he was her boss?
*****
The heat of the August sun caused a trickle of sweat to run down Jenessa’s back. As she threw her practice pitches, she watched Sam Gray and a tall, blond man approach. He put a can on the grass. She felt his appraising stare and tamped an urge to ask what his problem was.
“Play ball.” The home plate umpire’s call interrupted her thoughts. She stepped on the mound and prepared her first pitch.
The first two innings were scoreless. She stepped to the plate in the bottom of the third. The first three pitches were high and wide. “Put one across.”
The pitcher hurled. Jenessa tapped a liner off the end of the bat. The opposing pitcher bobbled the ball. Jenessa streaked past first and dove for second.
“Out.”
She bounced to her feet. “You’re blind. I was safe.”
“Out,” he repeated.
Megan, he’s not for me, she thought. As she walked away, she dusted her shirt. Her braid slapped against her back. A few feet from first base, she turned.
“Safe.”
For a moment, she thought he intended to continue the discussion. She felt his gaze on her back and grinned. Sparring with him at the bargaining table could be fun.
In the seventh and final inning, the other team scored two runs. Jenessa rallied her team. “We can’t let them win. Nan, Simone, just get on and I’ll bring you in.”
They walked. She strode to the plate and connected with the first pitch. The ball soared over the heads of the outfielders. She trotted past first. “I was safe.”
Eric hid a smile. She ran the bases with a cocky gait. At home, her teammates engulfed her. When he saw Sam wiggle into the mass of cheering women, Eric laughed. Moments later, the petite, ebony-skinned catcher for the nurses dragged Sam from the huddle.
“Simone, remember Eric.” Sam winked. “See you at the buffet. Me and this woman’s got to talk about her attitude.” He gestured toward the pitcher for the nurses.
“Looks like you made an impression.”
He knew he had, but not the one he wanted. He strode to first base, retrieved the beer and straightened.
She stood on the base. “I was safe, you know.”
“Really?” He raised the can to his lips without lowering his gaze. The sweat-stained tee shirt hugged her ribs and clung to her breasts. He swallowed a mouthful of warm, stale beer he hadn’t meant to drink and caught the edge of a memory.
He knew her. Though their first meeting had lasted less than an hour, he remembered her fire and determination. He’d watched her ply every skill and trick she knew and he had stepped in to help. For a short time, they’d been a team.
Before he had a chance to identify himself, a booming voice ended the staring match. A hearty slap made him drop the beer. White foam gathered on the grass.
“Getting into things already. Good idea.” The Board president stepped around Eric. “Jenessa, you look good enough to start a dead man’s heart. Two of you been introduced?”
“Not officially,” Eric said. The audible wheeze in Bishop’s breathing made him wonder why the man was puffing on a cigar.
“Allow me. Jenessa Robertson, Eric Bradshaw.” Bishop beamed. “Now, let me tell you, this little girl’s not as sweet as she looks. She’s a rabble-rouser. Fights hard for the union.”
Sweet didn’t match Eric’s impression of her from the past or today. Stubborn, courageous, a leader and much too attractive did.
Her hands moved to her hips. “It’s contract time, Mr. Bishop.”
“Don’t be rushing into the fire, little girl. Eric just arrived.”
“We’ve been on hold for months.”
The obese man’s teeth clamped on the cigar. “Stick to nursing, little girl. When you have a seat on the Board, you can push.”
“We’re asking for one.”
“Already have a nurse. Your director has a seat.”
She made a face. “I mean a real nurse.” She turned and jogged away.
“What?” If Bishop hadn’t grabbed Eric’s arm, he would have followed her and demanded an explanation. The desire for a confrontation rocked him.
Bishop laughed. “That’s one fine looking little girl. Needs a man to blunt her claws.” He winked. “You interested?”
“What did she mean by a real nurse?”
“Seems she thinks only bedside nurses should have a say in how the hospital’s run.” Bishop ground his cigar on the sun-browned grass. “Girl’s a born leader.”
“Why isn’t she a nurse manager?”
Bishop lit another cigar and released a cloud of smoke. “Would be like setting a mongoose in a cobra’s nest. Better idea would be for you to feed the sparks jumping between you. Set her to thinking about a man not a contract.”
Eric’s jaw tightened. He felt the same anger he’d felt years before when he’d been a rookie cop and a smooth- talking drug dealer had offered a bribe. “That’s not my style.”
“Why not? A good administrator is like ice applied to a burn. The rule is -- find the troublemakers and use any means to neutralize them.”
Eric looked away. No matter how expedient, he wouldn’t use attraction to gather information. “I’ll be busy then. There are a lot of unhappy campers.”
Bishop laughed. “Long as they’re carping, we don’t have to worry.”
“Oh, there you are.” Sandra Wallace, the assistant Director of Nursing, strolled toward them. She shifted her ever-present briefcase to her right hand and grabbed Bishop’s arm. “Weren’t we meeting at the buffet?”
Bishop’s meaty hand covered hers. “You missed the game. The nurses won.”
She eyed Eric’s faded cut-offs. He felt like he’d been examined by a fashion consultant and dismissed. “My aren’t you casual.”
“Not for a picnic.”
Her lips curled at the edges. “Appearance is always vital. Have I interrupted something important?”
“We were talking about Jenessa Robertson.”
As though brushing crumbs away, her hand fluttered. “Watch her. She’s always stirring up trouble.”
“She seems to know a lot about the hospital’s problems,” Eric said.
Sandra sneered. “She should. She enjoys causing them.”
Bishop laughed. “Girl’s always rooting like a goat in the garbage dump.”
“Lobbied for us to hire floats.”
“So how much real trouble has she caused?” Eric asked.
“Organized the union. Fought for every point in the contract,” Bishop said.
Sandra’s laughter rang hollow. “She has no respect for authority. Threatened a sick-out. Even stormed a Board meeting to make demands. Jim thinks she’s cute.”
“And dangerous.” Bishop waved the cigar. “Might offer her a job.”
Eric moved away from the pair. “See you later. Promised to meet Sam.” As he jogged away, a glimpse of red shorts and long legs tempted him to change direction.
Moments later, still watching Jenessa Robertson, he dropped to the ground beside Sam. Rushing into a situation he wasn’t sure he could control made no sense. He swallowed a mouthful of the icy beer Sam handed him. There would be other encounters with her. He smiled in anticipation.
*****
Jenessa leaned against one of the picnic tables and finished her food. She felt confused and uneasy. Megan had been right, but broad shoulders and a dimpled smile didn’t make the rest of the prediction true.
“Thank heavens for Bishop.” Her whispered comment ended in a chuckle. Being grateful to him for anything felt weird. Usually, his attitude made her want to scream.
She scanned the clusters of people for members of the negotiating team. Time for a meeting. She spotted one of the women at the buffet and joined her. “Hi, Dru.”
“Good game. What’s happening?”
“It’s time to push for negotiations. They have their D.O.N. That was their excuse.” She slathered catsup on a hamburger and took a bite.
Dru put down her fork. “Claire said to wait.”
“Do I head the team?”
Dru finished a chicken leg. “You do.”
“There’s a strategy meeting. My apartment at five.”
“Who else have you told?”
“You’re the first. Nan’s by the swings. Let’s go tell her.”
“I’m on the way.” Dru dropped her plate in the trash. “They may scrimp on pay and benefits but they always have a great spread.”
“Right. Keep the girls happy.” She and Dru strolled across the playground.
“What’s up?” Nan asked.
“Strategy meeting today,” Jenessa said. “My place at five.”
Nan raked her red hair. “About time. Does Claire know? Sometimes she’s as bad as the Board.”
“What do you mean?” Dru asked.
“I told her we should report the hospital to the Labor Board and petition for arbitration. She said she has another plan to force their hand.”
Dru sat on one of the swings. “Maybe she wants to give Mr. Bradshaw a chance. Wonder if he’s taken.”
“You are,” Jenessa said.
“Just window shopping.”
Nan pushed an empty swing. “Want to hear the latest rumor?”
“Would you still tell us if we said no?” Jenessa asked.
“Of course. One of the night nurses from Peds told me the hospital’s being sold.”
Dru laughed. “That’s old news. Heard it years ago. I bet half the rumors are invented by bored night nurses.”
Until she investigated, Jenessa wasn’t about to dismiss the rumor. “There’s Simone. My place at five. Pass the word.” She darted across the ballfield where a group of teenage boys were practicing.
“Watch out!”
Jenessa turned to see who had yelled. A hard object smacked her head.
The next thing to enter her awareness was a pair of hazel eyes…Incredible eyes. An aroma of pine swirled around her. A vague recollection lapped at the edge of her thoughts.
“Are you all right?” a deep voice demanded.
She tuned out the voice and focused on the rugged planes of his face.
“Jenessa, Jenessa Robertson, are you all right?”
She stared. Lips, tempting in their nearness, moved away. “I’m fine, I think.”
He flashed a smile that revealed a dimple in each cheek. “I’m glad. I was about to call for help.”
His fingers touched her wrist. She wondered if her dizziness was caused by the way her heart rate had accelerated. He slipped his arm beneath her shoulders and eased her into a sitting position. The trees danced and came to rest. A name popped into her thoughts. Eric Bradshaw. She lightly brushed the lump on her head. “Guess I got beaned.”
“My fault. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“You sure know how to get attention.” Sandra Wallace’s nasal twang grabbed Jenessa’s wandering attention.
Jenessa looked at the crowd and leaned against Eric. For a moment, she savored the aura of protection he projected. “Isn’t that what you always say.” She stared at the dark-haired woman and shook her head in disbelief. “A pink suit and heels. This is a picnic, not tea with the First Lady.”
“I can tell you’re not hurt.” Sandra wheeled. As she strode away, her briefcase swung like a pendulum.
“Bag lady,” Jenessa whispered.
“Why?”
“That briefcase is an extension of her arm. I wonder if she goes to bed with it.”
“Maybe she has dark secrets.” Eric grinned. “Ready?”
He helped her to her feet. Her knees buckled. His hand slid from her shoulders to her waist, leaving a trail of warmth behind. He helped her to one of the tables.
“I think you’d better sit down. Anything else I can do for you?”
She thought of a dozen things best left unsaid. The pressure and heat of his hand at her waist made her want to purr. What was she thinking? “I’ll be fine.”
“Let me get some ice for your head.”
After he left, she rested her elbows on the table and closed her eyes. She searched for a memory that burned off like early morning mist under the rising sun. The idea that she knew him belonged to a fantasy. How could she have forgotten a man who looked like him?
She groaned. The softball must have addled her wits. Someone slid onto the bench. She tensed.
“You’ve done it,” Megan said.
“What are you talking about?”
“His attention. I felt the vibes clear to the buffet. Why did you send him away?”
“You know why.”
“Jen, he’s perfect.”
Jenessa wanted to shake her head, but every movement changed the dull ache into sharp pain. “My head hurts.”
“That bad?”
“I got beaned. He helped me up. He’s the enemy.”
“Guess you heard he’s anti-union and was lured from a hospital where the nurses voted theirs out.” Megan half- rose. “He’s on his way back. Darn, he’s stopped to talk to Sam.”
Jenessa stood. While she waited for her vision to clear, she leaned against the table. “We’re meeting at five. Will you be there?”
“Got tapped for a double.” Megan looked at her watch. “Dinner break’s over. See you.”
With steps that began shaky and steadied, Jenessa walked along the path to Grove Street. A contract was essential but if her colleagues voted to strike, no matter how wrong she thought they were she would join them. With a deep sigh of regret, she wished she and Eric Bradshaw weren’t in opposition. Forget it, she thought and began to jog away.
On Opposite Sides
Janet Lane Walters
New Concepts Publishing
ISBN 1-58608-463-1
On Opposite Sides
Chapter 1
With a flourish, Jenessa signed her name to the nurses’ notes on a fourth chart. She picked up a stack of papers and the brown bag containing the lunch she hadn’t had time to eat. All day, the pace in the Intensive Care unit had been hectic. Two Codes. Three admissions in five minutes, all of them critical. Instead of twenty-seven, she felt more like seventy.
She waved at the night nurse. “See you tomorrow.”
“That’s two extras in a row,” one of the women called. “Are you some kind of glutton?”
Am I? One more thing and I’m out of here. She straight-armed the door and headed for the stairs. After stopping on two other units to collect protest forms, she entered the stairwell.
Voices, eerie and distorted, drifted from below. The echo-effect made her wonder if the speakers were male or female. “Don’t worry, if we just push them a little harder, they’ll walk.”
“You’re right. Who could resist --”
Who were they talking about? She leaned over the railing, but shadows hid the speakers. The voices faded. A door slammed. She frowned and headed to the fifth floor where she entered the Nursing Office.
Lorraine Rodgers, one of the evening supervisors, looked up. “Again? Don’t you get tired of making waves?”
“Is that what I do? I thought I was fulfilling my role as a good union member and a conscientious nurse. The contract gives us the right to protest unsafe working conditions. I just make sure they’re collected.”
The middle-aged woman shook her head. “We all know this is your personal crusade. Can’t you put the past to rest?”
Jenessa’s hands clenched and she felt the muscles in her shoulders tighten. “Could you?” She fought a barrage of memories. “See that Ms. Wallace gets these. Not that she cares.”
“You could give them to her. She’s in the house. The Board’s meeting to select the new Director and we all know who that will be.”
“Maybe they’ll choose someone else.”
Mrs. Rodgers laughed. “Do you really believe that? She’s been angling for the job since she arrived. We’ll have to learn to live with her.”
“Maybe.”
“Another petition asking for Sandra’s removal?”
Jenessa shrugged. “See you tomorrow.”
“You’re on again? Do you work all these extra shifts just to log complaints?”
“If I don’t, who’d be here for the patients?” Jenessa strode away.
Fifteen minutes later, in her apartment across the street, she stood in the shower. Hot water uncoiled her tight muscles, but not her thoughts. Would the hospital Board really name Sandra Wallace, a woman disliked by most of the nurses, as the new director? With Jim Bishop as Board president, the choice seemed likely.
After pulling on an over-sized blue tee shirt, she headed to the kitchen and zapped the spicy chicken dish she should have eaten for lunch. Though she considered working on her Master’s thesis, she felt too tired to read the stack of articles on the desk.
The apartment door slammed. She looked up and saw her roommate. Megan kicked off her shoes. “Are you ready for a bomb? Guess what the Board has done.”
“Sandra.”
“Is out.” Megan grinned. “Josh and I were at the Cove for dinner. Sam introduced Eric Bradshaw. Would you believe he’s the new Director of Nursing? And what a hunk he is.”
Jenessa pushed back long strands of dark brown hair that had come loose from her braid. “You’re kidding.”
“Not one bit.”
“It’s a ploy. Can’t you hear Mr. Bishop’s laughter? We’ll give the girls a man to drool over. That’ll shut them up.”
“Come on, Jen. At least they didn’t name Her.” Megan headed across the living room, discarding pieces of clothes as she walked. “He’s every woman’s dream. Tall, blond, broad shoulders. I positively drooled. He’s got the greatest dimples. That’s because he’s a Libra.”
Trust Megan to ask his sun sign, Jenessa thought. Her roommate’s description confirmed her suspicions of the Board’s motives. “Sounds like you’re adding him to your string.”
“Wrong. A Libra and a Pisces. Odd couple material.” Megan’s blonde curls bounced with the force of her denial. “He’s for you, my Aries friend. Remember what I always say. An opposition can be exciting.”
Not again, Jenessa thought. For the past year, Megan’s attempts at matchmaking seemed designed to drive her crazy. “Megan, no.”
“You can’t be alone forever.”
“You’re surviving.”
“Alone I’m not. My problem is too many and being unable to hurt anyone.” She shrugged. “Give it a shot.”
Jenessa frowned. Megan and she had been friends since they were five, but there were things she couldn’t tell her…Things about Chuck and the marriage.
“I’m union. He’s management. Can you see me falling for someone from the opposition?”
“And what will you be when you finish your Master’s?”
“Not here. I’ll work for a doctor. Head to the city. Become a consultant.” She followed the trail of clothes and gathered them as she walked. “With my reputation here, they won’t promote me.”
“Your reputation is undeserved. Just because you organized the union, sent a
petition to recall Sandra, started the protest forms, negotiated the contract --”
The click of the bathroom door cut off Megan’s words.
Jenessa dropped the clothes beside the door. She entered the bedroom and stared at the red brick building across the street where she worked in ICU. She liked Eastlake Community. For nearly three years, the hospital had been her refuge. She didn’t want to leave.
She returned to the hall just as Megan emerged. wrapped in a blue bath sheet that nearly reached her toes.
“...use someone who plunges to the center of a problem and won’t give up until the next one appears. You are kind of blunt though. He’ll weigh his decisions. Libras do. What’s on the agenda now?” She stumbled over the heap of clothes. “I know. In the hamper.”
“The contract. Monday, I’ll demand a meeting.”
“Why not give Eric Bradshaw a chance to settle in?”
“Why? They said they’d talk once they hired a new director and they have.” Jenessa headed to the kitchen.
“It’s the same everywhere. Don’t you pay attention to the letters from the gang?”
“There are hospitals where the problems are addressed.” Jenessa picked up a fork.
“Around here no one admits there are any.”
“I’m not sure there are answers. The health care system is in flux.”
“If the Board would sit down with us, we could try.”
Megan grinned. “Do I see you, sword in hand, leading the charge?”
“Don’t make fun. This is serious.”
“I’m sorry. I know how important adequate staffing is to you.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get a decent contract.” Jenessa bit her lower lip and fought a storm of memories and guilt.
Megan opened the refrigerator and poured a glass of juice. “Letters from the gang are in. Did you do yours?”
“What do you think?” The idea for a monthly exchange of letters between the members of their clinical group from the nursing program at Grantley was Megan’s project.
“When are you going to write it?”
“How about after the softball game Saturday?”
“I’m mailing copies tomorrow.” Megan raised her hand in a gesture of surrender.
“I’ll write yours...About the game. Will we win?”
“We’d better. Softball is the one place where Nursing stands a chance against the other departments who, with one whimper, get everything they want.”
“He’ll be there.”
“Who?”
“Eric Bradshaw.” Megan left the kitchen. “Night.”
As Jenessa loaded the dishwasher, a slow grin built from deep inside. He’d be there. So would Jim Bishop and Sandra Wallace. The annual hospital picnic might be an interesting event.
*****
On Saturday morning at a few minutes after ten, Eric left his apartment. Moments later, his sneakers slapped against the asphalt surface of the path leading to Community Park. The shade beneath the oak and maple trees brought relief from the relentless August sun.
Today promised to be as hot as Eastlake Community would be if the problems that beaded like the sweat on his forehead weren’t solved. For an instant, he allowed himself to regret the injury that had ended his career as a cop and his decision to become a nurse, the way his father and a number of ex-cops he knew had done. During the week since his arrival, he’d asked himself a dozen times why he’d listened to Sam and applied for the position as Director of Nursing.
“Something fishy’s going on. I’m not sure who, what or why. You’ve got the training to dig out the info.”
In the past week, he’d learned a number of facts, but none were illegal. The nurse managers and supervisors couldn’t see or didn’t care about the signs of unrest among
the nurses. Sometimes, he thought administration was the problem. But since their contracts protected them, he couldn’t fire the lot.
He emerged from the tree-sheltered path and stopped to let a herd of children charge past. Where was Sam and where was the ballfield? His buddy had volunteered him as first base umpire for the game between the nurses and a team from the other departments.
“Eric, over here.”
He jogged toward the picnic table where Sam sat. The children returned. With the adroitness he’d once displayed on the football field, he twisted and evaded until he cleared the crowd.
“Just like old times, my man.” Sam’s brown hand slapped Eric’s.
“Hardly. Where’s your gaudy uniform?” When Eric had played football, Sam had been a member of the marching band. He’d also been pianist for the jazz ensemble. Eric rested his hands on his thighs until he caught his breath. “I’m too old for this.”
Sam laughed. “At thirty-two? In five minutes, I guarantee you’ll be rejuvenated.”
“About the game. Fun or serious?”
“A bit of both.” Sam slid from the table. “The captain and pitcher for the nurses is intense. She likes to win.”
“Is this a warning?”
Sam’s laughter rolled the way his fingers moved along the piano keys. “You’ll see. Wait ‘til you see her legs. Long and lean and stretching forever. Simone threatened to blacken my eyes if I leer. Grab a beer and let’s go.”
When Eric reached the field, he forgot the beer. The hospital’s problems vanished. He put the beer on the ground several yards from first base and stared at the pitcher. Sam had been on target.
He studied her exceptional legs until they vanished beneath brief red shorts. His stare lingered on the white tee shirt that clung to her small, yet perfect, breasts. Sunlight caught the red glints in her brown hair and turned them into flames. As she moved from the mound, his body reacted. How was he going to remember he was her boss?
*****
The heat of the August sun caused a trickle of sweat to run down Jenessa’s back. As she threw her practice pitches, she watched Sam Gray and a tall, blond man approach. He put a can on the grass. She felt his appraising stare and tamped an urge to ask what his problem was.
“Play ball.” The home plate umpire’s call interrupted her thoughts. She stepped on the mound and prepared her first pitch.
The first two innings were scoreless. She stepped to the plate in the bottom of the third. The first three pitches were high and wide. “Put one across.”
The pitcher hurled. Jenessa tapped a liner off the end of the bat. The opposing pitcher bobbled the ball. Jenessa streaked past first and dove for second.
“Out.”
She bounced to her feet. “You’re blind. I was safe.”
“Out,” he repeated.
Megan, he’s not for me, she thought. As she walked away, she dusted her shirt. Her braid slapped against her back. A few feet from first base, she turned.
“Safe.”
For a moment, she thought he intended to continue the discussion. She felt his gaze on her back and grinned. Sparring with him at the bargaining table could be fun.
In the seventh and final inning, the other team scored two runs. Jenessa rallied her team. “We can’t let them win. Nan, Simone, just get on and I’ll bring you in.”
They walked. She strode to the plate and connected with the first pitch. The ball soared over the heads of the outfielders. She trotted past first. “I was safe.”
Eric hid a smile. She ran the bases with a cocky gait. At home, her teammates engulfed her. When he saw Sam wiggle into the mass of cheering women, Eric laughed. Moments later, the petite, ebony-skinned catcher for the nurses dragged Sam from the huddle.
“Simone, remember Eric.” Sam winked. “See you at the buffet. Me and this woman’s got to talk about her attitude.” He gestured toward the pitcher for the nurses.
“Looks like you made an impression.”
He knew he had, but not the one he wanted. He strode to first base, retrieved the beer and straightened.
She stood on the base. “I was safe, you know.”
“Really?” He raised the can to his lips without lowering his gaze. The sweat-stained tee shirt hugged her ribs and clung to her breasts. He swallowed a mouthful of warm, stale beer he hadn’t meant to drink and caught the edge of a memory.
He knew her. Though their first meeting had lasted less than an hour, he remembered her fire and determination. He’d watched her ply every skill and trick she knew and he had stepped in to help. For a short time, they’d been a team.
Before he had a chance to identify himself, a booming voice ended the staring match. A hearty slap made him drop the beer. White foam gathered on the grass.
“Getting into things already. Good idea.” The Board president stepped around Eric. “Jenessa, you look good enough to start a dead man’s heart. Two of you been introduced?”
“Not officially,” Eric said. The audible wheeze in Bishop’s breathing made him wonder why the man was puffing on a cigar.
“Allow me. Jenessa Robertson, Eric Bradshaw.” Bishop beamed. “Now, let me tell you, this little girl’s not as sweet as she looks. She’s a rabble-rouser. Fights hard for the union.”
Sweet didn’t match Eric’s impression of her from the past or today. Stubborn, courageous, a leader and much too attractive did.
Her hands moved to her hips. “It’s contract time, Mr. Bishop.”
“Don’t be rushing into the fire, little girl. Eric just arrived.”
“We’ve been on hold for months.”
The obese man’s teeth clamped on the cigar. “Stick to nursing, little girl. When you have a seat on the Board, you can push.”
“We’re asking for one.”
“Already have a nurse. Your director has a seat.”
She made a face. “I mean a real nurse.” She turned and jogged away.
“What?” If Bishop hadn’t grabbed Eric’s arm, he would have followed her and demanded an explanation. The desire for a confrontation rocked him.
Bishop laughed. “That’s one fine looking little girl. Needs a man to blunt her claws.” He winked. “You interested?”
“What did she mean by a real nurse?”
“Seems she thinks only bedside nurses should have a say in how the hospital’s run.” Bishop ground his cigar on the sun-browned grass. “Girl’s a born leader.”
“Why isn’t she a nurse manager?”
Bishop lit another cigar and released a cloud of smoke. “Would be like setting a mongoose in a cobra’s nest. Better idea would be for you to feed the sparks jumping between you. Set her to thinking about a man not a contract.”
Eric’s jaw tightened. He felt the same anger he’d felt years before when he’d been a rookie cop and a smooth- talking drug dealer had offered a bribe. “That’s not my style.”
“Why not? A good administrator is like ice applied to a burn. The rule is -- find the troublemakers and use any means to neutralize them.”
Eric looked away. No matter how expedient, he wouldn’t use attraction to gather information. “I’ll be busy then. There are a lot of unhappy campers.”
Bishop laughed. “Long as they’re carping, we don’t have to worry.”
“Oh, there you are.” Sandra Wallace, the assistant Director of Nursing, strolled toward them. She shifted her ever-present briefcase to her right hand and grabbed Bishop’s arm. “Weren’t we meeting at the buffet?”
Bishop’s meaty hand covered hers. “You missed the game. The nurses won.”
She eyed Eric’s faded cut-offs. He felt like he’d been examined by a fashion consultant and dismissed. “My aren’t you casual.”
“Not for a picnic.”
Her lips curled at the edges. “Appearance is always vital. Have I interrupted something important?”
“We were talking about Jenessa Robertson.”
As though brushing crumbs away, her hand fluttered. “Watch her. She’s always stirring up trouble.”
“She seems to know a lot about the hospital’s problems,” Eric said.
Sandra sneered. “She should. She enjoys causing them.”
Bishop laughed. “Girl’s always rooting like a goat in the garbage dump.”
“Lobbied for us to hire floats.”
“So how much real trouble has she caused?” Eric asked.
“Organized the union. Fought for every point in the contract,” Bishop said.
Sandra’s laughter rang hollow. “She has no respect for authority. Threatened a sick-out. Even stormed a Board meeting to make demands. Jim thinks she’s cute.”
“And dangerous.” Bishop waved the cigar. “Might offer her a job.”
Eric moved away from the pair. “See you later. Promised to meet Sam.” As he jogged away, a glimpse of red shorts and long legs tempted him to change direction.
Moments later, still watching Jenessa Robertson, he dropped to the ground beside Sam. Rushing into a situation he wasn’t sure he could control made no sense. He swallowed a mouthful of the icy beer Sam handed him. There would be other encounters with her. He smiled in anticipation.
*****
Jenessa leaned against one of the picnic tables and finished her food. She felt confused and uneasy. Megan had been right, but broad shoulders and a dimpled smile didn’t make the rest of the prediction true.
“Thank heavens for Bishop.” Her whispered comment ended in a chuckle. Being grateful to him for anything felt weird. Usually, his attitude made her want to scream.
She scanned the clusters of people for members of the negotiating team. Time for a meeting. She spotted one of the women at the buffet and joined her. “Hi, Dru.”
“Good game. What’s happening?”
“It’s time to push for negotiations. They have their D.O.N. That was their excuse.” She slathered catsup on a hamburger and took a bite.
Dru put down her fork. “Claire said to wait.”
“Do I head the team?”
Dru finished a chicken leg. “You do.”
“There’s a strategy meeting. My apartment at five.”
“Who else have you told?”
“You’re the first. Nan’s by the swings. Let’s go tell her.”
“I’m on the way.” Dru dropped her plate in the trash. “They may scrimp on pay and benefits but they always have a great spread.”
“Right. Keep the girls happy.” She and Dru strolled across the playground.
“What’s up?” Nan asked.
“Strategy meeting today,” Jenessa said. “My place at five.”
Nan raked her red hair. “About time. Does Claire know? Sometimes she’s as bad as the Board.”
“What do you mean?” Dru asked.
“I told her we should report the hospital to the Labor Board and petition for arbitration. She said she has another plan to force their hand.”
Dru sat on one of the swings. “Maybe she wants to give Mr. Bradshaw a chance. Wonder if he’s taken.”
“You are,” Jenessa said.
“Just window shopping.”
Nan pushed an empty swing. “Want to hear the latest rumor?”
“Would you still tell us if we said no?” Jenessa asked.
“Of course. One of the night nurses from Peds told me the hospital’s being sold.”
Dru laughed. “That’s old news. Heard it years ago. I bet half the rumors are invented by bored night nurses.”
Until she investigated, Jenessa wasn’t about to dismiss the rumor. “There’s Simone. My place at five. Pass the word.” She darted across the ballfield where a group of teenage boys were practicing.
“Watch out!”
Jenessa turned to see who had yelled. A hard object smacked her head.
The next thing to enter her awareness was a pair of hazel eyes…Incredible eyes. An aroma of pine swirled around her. A vague recollection lapped at the edge of her thoughts.
“Are you all right?” a deep voice demanded.
She tuned out the voice and focused on the rugged planes of his face.
“Jenessa, Jenessa Robertson, are you all right?”
She stared. Lips, tempting in their nearness, moved away. “I’m fine, I think.”
He flashed a smile that revealed a dimple in each cheek. “I’m glad. I was about to call for help.”
His fingers touched her wrist. She wondered if her dizziness was caused by the way her heart rate had accelerated. He slipped his arm beneath her shoulders and eased her into a sitting position. The trees danced and came to rest. A name popped into her thoughts. Eric Bradshaw. She lightly brushed the lump on her head. “Guess I got beaned.”
“My fault. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“You sure know how to get attention.” Sandra Wallace’s nasal twang grabbed Jenessa’s wandering attention.
Jenessa looked at the crowd and leaned against Eric. For a moment, she savored the aura of protection he projected. “Isn’t that what you always say.” She stared at the dark-haired woman and shook her head in disbelief. “A pink suit and heels. This is a picnic, not tea with the First Lady.”
“I can tell you’re not hurt.” Sandra wheeled. As she strode away, her briefcase swung like a pendulum.
“Bag lady,” Jenessa whispered.
“Why?”
“That briefcase is an extension of her arm. I wonder if she goes to bed with it.”
“Maybe she has dark secrets.” Eric grinned. “Ready?”
He helped her to her feet. Her knees buckled. His hand slid from her shoulders to her waist, leaving a trail of warmth behind. He helped her to one of the tables.
“I think you’d better sit down. Anything else I can do for you?”
She thought of a dozen things best left unsaid. The pressure and heat of his hand at her waist made her want to purr. What was she thinking? “I’ll be fine.”
“Let me get some ice for your head.”
After he left, she rested her elbows on the table and closed her eyes. She searched for a memory that burned off like early morning mist under the rising sun. The idea that she knew him belonged to a fantasy. How could she have forgotten a man who looked like him?
She groaned. The softball must have addled her wits. Someone slid onto the bench. She tensed.
“You’ve done it,” Megan said.
“What are you talking about?”
“His attention. I felt the vibes clear to the buffet. Why did you send him away?”
“You know why.”
“Jen, he’s perfect.”
Jenessa wanted to shake her head, but every movement changed the dull ache into sharp pain. “My head hurts.”
“That bad?”
“I got beaned. He helped me up. He’s the enemy.”
“Guess you heard he’s anti-union and was lured from a hospital where the nurses voted theirs out.” Megan half- rose. “He’s on his way back. Darn, he’s stopped to talk to Sam.”
Jenessa stood. While she waited for her vision to clear, she leaned against the table. “We’re meeting at five. Will you be there?”
“Got tapped for a double.” Megan looked at her watch. “Dinner break’s over. See you.”
With steps that began shaky and steadied, Jenessa walked along the path to Grove Street. A contract was essential but if her colleagues voted to strike, no matter how wrong she thought they were she would join them. With a deep sigh of regret, she wished she and Eric Bradshaw weren’t in opposition. Forget it, she thought and began to jog away.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Friday's Writer's Trip - Revisions three ways
Revision is what makes a story shine. There are three kind of revisions - though actually the two sort of go along with the way one writes. Not talking here about if one plots or one is a panster. The revision depends on if they're a draft writer or not.
The draft revision is the first. This means the story is told from beginning to end and then revisions are made with each draft. A writer who uses this system may have as many drafts as it takes. I'm this kind and there are usually five after the initial rough draft. Think of a painter as they layer more and more daubs of paint to the picture until the scene is revealed.
The block revision is the second type. Here the writer hones each scene before they go on to the next. Sometimes they revise each sentence before they move on. By the time they reach the end they have a near perfect story.
Strengthening revision is used by both and comes after the book is finished. Here the writer reads for story, characters, looking for plot holes, choosing more expressive words. This is like the final polishing before the story is sent out into the cold, sometimes cruel world.
Which kind of revision is your choice? Remember neither is wrong and neither is right. What matters is what works for you and that you polish your story to near perfection. Remember there are no perfect stories. Each one you write is perfect at that time but when looking back one can always find something to change.
Next week one of the three will be further explored.
The draft revision is the first. This means the story is told from beginning to end and then revisions are made with each draft. A writer who uses this system may have as many drafts as it takes. I'm this kind and there are usually five after the initial rough draft. Think of a painter as they layer more and more daubs of paint to the picture until the scene is revealed.
The block revision is the second type. Here the writer hones each scene before they go on to the next. Sometimes they revise each sentence before they move on. By the time they reach the end they have a near perfect story.
Strengthening revision is used by both and comes after the book is finished. Here the writer reads for story, characters, looking for plot holes, choosing more expressive words. This is like the final polishing before the story is sent out into the cold, sometimes cruel world.
Which kind of revision is your choice? Remember neither is wrong and neither is right. What matters is what works for you and that you polish your story to near perfection. Remember there are no perfect stories. Each one you write is perfect at that time but when looking back one can always find something to change.
Next week one of the three will be further explored.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Thursday's Interview - Erin Dameion- Hill
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I tend to fall in mulitiple genres but I stay close to Dark Fantasy and Paranormal Romances/Erotica.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
Fantasy chose me years ago! When I was six years old, I read The Hobbit instead of Dr. Seuss! Admittedly, I'm a terrible rhymer but I thrive in new and exciting Realms!
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I'm not a fan of the Historical genre only because I believe women should be more than just objects for men. Women can't have too many roles because of the male oppresion that was inevitable in the past. Many of my novels have very strong women wielding weapons and being fierce warriors. There aren't too many historical documents that tell of women warriors, so I don't think the Historical genre is for me.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
I adore Christopher Moore for his witty comedy and whenever possible, I catch up on other Fantasy novels that I might have missed out on or I try to find something completely different like the graphic novel "Claymore" by Norihiro Yagi.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
Upon my entrance into Flager College, I met my destiny. I saw my husband sitting on the library steps lost deep in thought on a college paper. I immediately fell in love. When people say there is no such thing as love at first sight, then they have not lived. It was instant attraction for the both of us and when we realized we both had the same classes and affinity for literature, we never left each other's side. We have been married for 7 years and still growing strong. My husband, Cameron, is the inspiration for every hero I create. He is handsome as well as strong, intelligent, talented, and funny. Without him, I wouldn't be able to do what I do now. He has been my rock.
I wrote my first novel at the tender age of 8. It was about a princess and her horse. Some of the details are sketchy, but she has to fight a dragon in the end. She wins and she rides off into the sunset. My novels haven't really changed that much except, hopefully, the writing has matured!
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
My favorite character is Baric from the work in progress "Dior: The Joining" which is the sequel to "Dior". That man lives in my heart! He is such a sad character and yet his strength and devotion is epic! He has a truly depressing past but he manages to stay positive.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
Oh yes I have villains! Many of my villains are very dangerous criminals who harass my shero in some way or form. Usually, they're abusive and foul and need to be taken down several notches by the tormented shero. (I use Oprah's term shero for heroine because strong women should never have the same name as a hard drug!)
8. What are you working on now?
Currently, I'm working on the fourth in the "Legend" series, "Legend: Gleise581g" where the corrupt Starnetic Stragedy continues to experiment on humans creating werewolves, chimeras, and in Gleise581g, dinosaurs. I'm also working on "Demon Lush", a short story about a woman dealing with divorce who just wants to let loose but finds herself chained by a hauntingly gorgeous demon! Finally, I'm working on "Dior: The Joining", the sequel to "Dior". Dior is epic in all forms and follows the lives of two sisters, Namidira and Liessa who eventually try to destroy each other. Led by forces and by fate that they cannot control, they are forced to battle.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
I have three stories that will be released this summer: "Dior", "Dark Revelation", and "Alpha Worship". My two short stories, "Dark Revelation" and "Alpha Worship" are hardcore erotic tales filled with unleashed passion and dark desires. The idea for "Alpha Worship" was inspired by Rihanna's S&M song. I have whips and chains but also werewolves. What's an erotica without those studly creatures? "Dark Revelation" is a spin-off story from the world of "Dior". It follows Merrick, a tortured Blood Keeper who has taken vows of chastity in order to watch the dangerous mage, Julia. He lusts for her and, in the end, he cannot control his desires.
"Dior" came to me while I was taking a bath! I wanted to create a new world with many different creatures unknown in the current fantasy world. I began to create "Dior" when I was 18 years old. I put it aside while I went to college and sought a job. It finally reappeared to me after I had written "Legend: The Wolf", "Legend: The Fey", and "Legend: The Chimera". I knew I had to finish the epic novel and I did. I am very proud of how it turned out.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
The latest release by New Concepts Publishing is "Legend: The Chimera". I wanted a paranormal romance that reached beyond werewolves. I wanted a creature so fierce, that readers would shake in their comfy chairs. A Chimera is a violent creature of myth. It has the head of a lion, the head of a goat, and the tail of snake. It is powerful and in my novel, I have also given it wings! Unfortunately for my main character, Emily, the destructive beast lives within her! But, a handsome werewolf helps her control her beast so that life is not as dark as she assumes!
Here is a beginning excerpt from "Legend: The Chimera":
y eyes blink into the bright light of white snow and unending white mountains. A windy gust pushes me onto my side as snow crackles underneath my weight. My heart is barely beating. I am barely breathing. Ice cold has wrapped its delicate fingers around my body.
I'm shivering.
My teeth clatter against themselves and my muscles violently contract. I manage to bring my arms around my shoulders and pull my legs toward my bare belly. My knees are purple. My skin along my toes is bright red. Snot and mucous creep down from my numb nose and freeze onto my chapped and dry lips.
I glance down my naked body and realize that I am beginning to suffer from frostbite. My extremities are numb, paralyzed with an escalating cold that bites into me. Blood is rushing to my brain and to my heart in order to keep me alive.
I try to stand but cannot. All I can do is lie here in the snow and let it pile around me. My skin is stinging and tight under the lashes of the snow.
My black hair is stuck on my cold face. I can feel it brittle and hard. I could completely snap it off if I wanted to.
My eyes are blinking even though the skin around my eyes is so tight and dry that I can barely squeeze my eyelids. I feel like I am in a tug-of-war between myself and twelve Vikings because my skin is so tight and unwilling to move. The Vikings are winning. My skin is becoming more and more taut as the wind picks up speed.
Snowflakes drift smoothly across me from behind and they crawl up my buttocks. I can feel it drip inside me. I am so cold and stiff that I cannot stop it. I can only abide this feeling, suffer through it.
Slowly, thoughts form inside my desolate and freezing mind. How did I come to be here? Where is here?
Thank you,
Erin Dameron-Hill
Legend: The Wolf
Legend: The Fey
Legend: The Chimera
Soon to be released: Dior, Dark Revelation, and Alpha Worship.
I tend to fall in mulitiple genres but I stay close to Dark Fantasy and Paranormal Romances/Erotica.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
Fantasy chose me years ago! When I was six years old, I read The Hobbit instead of Dr. Seuss! Admittedly, I'm a terrible rhymer but I thrive in new and exciting Realms!
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I'm not a fan of the Historical genre only because I believe women should be more than just objects for men. Women can't have too many roles because of the male oppresion that was inevitable in the past. Many of my novels have very strong women wielding weapons and being fierce warriors. There aren't too many historical documents that tell of women warriors, so I don't think the Historical genre is for me.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
I adore Christopher Moore for his witty comedy and whenever possible, I catch up on other Fantasy novels that I might have missed out on or I try to find something completely different like the graphic novel "Claymore" by Norihiro Yagi.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
Upon my entrance into Flager College, I met my destiny. I saw my husband sitting on the library steps lost deep in thought on a college paper. I immediately fell in love. When people say there is no such thing as love at first sight, then they have not lived. It was instant attraction for the both of us and when we realized we both had the same classes and affinity for literature, we never left each other's side. We have been married for 7 years and still growing strong. My husband, Cameron, is the inspiration for every hero I create. He is handsome as well as strong, intelligent, talented, and funny. Without him, I wouldn't be able to do what I do now. He has been my rock.
I wrote my first novel at the tender age of 8. It was about a princess and her horse. Some of the details are sketchy, but she has to fight a dragon in the end. She wins and she rides off into the sunset. My novels haven't really changed that much except, hopefully, the writing has matured!
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
My favorite character is Baric from the work in progress "Dior: The Joining" which is the sequel to "Dior". That man lives in my heart! He is such a sad character and yet his strength and devotion is epic! He has a truly depressing past but he manages to stay positive.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
Oh yes I have villains! Many of my villains are very dangerous criminals who harass my shero in some way or form. Usually, they're abusive and foul and need to be taken down several notches by the tormented shero. (I use Oprah's term shero for heroine because strong women should never have the same name as a hard drug!)
8. What are you working on now?
Currently, I'm working on the fourth in the "Legend" series, "Legend: Gleise581g" where the corrupt Starnetic Stragedy continues to experiment on humans creating werewolves, chimeras, and in Gleise581g, dinosaurs. I'm also working on "Demon Lush", a short story about a woman dealing with divorce who just wants to let loose but finds herself chained by a hauntingly gorgeous demon! Finally, I'm working on "Dior: The Joining", the sequel to "Dior". Dior is epic in all forms and follows the lives of two sisters, Namidira and Liessa who eventually try to destroy each other. Led by forces and by fate that they cannot control, they are forced to battle.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
I have three stories that will be released this summer: "Dior", "Dark Revelation", and "Alpha Worship". My two short stories, "Dark Revelation" and "Alpha Worship" are hardcore erotic tales filled with unleashed passion and dark desires. The idea for "Alpha Worship" was inspired by Rihanna's S&M song. I have whips and chains but also werewolves. What's an erotica without those studly creatures? "Dark Revelation" is a spin-off story from the world of "Dior". It follows Merrick, a tortured Blood Keeper who has taken vows of chastity in order to watch the dangerous mage, Julia. He lusts for her and, in the end, he cannot control his desires.
"Dior" came to me while I was taking a bath! I wanted to create a new world with many different creatures unknown in the current fantasy world. I began to create "Dior" when I was 18 years old. I put it aside while I went to college and sought a job. It finally reappeared to me after I had written "Legend: The Wolf", "Legend: The Fey", and "Legend: The Chimera". I knew I had to finish the epic novel and I did. I am very proud of how it turned out.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
The latest release by New Concepts Publishing is "Legend: The Chimera". I wanted a paranormal romance that reached beyond werewolves. I wanted a creature so fierce, that readers would shake in their comfy chairs. A Chimera is a violent creature of myth. It has the head of a lion, the head of a goat, and the tail of snake. It is powerful and in my novel, I have also given it wings! Unfortunately for my main character, Emily, the destructive beast lives within her! But, a handsome werewolf helps her control her beast so that life is not as dark as she assumes!
Here is a beginning excerpt from "Legend: The Chimera":
y eyes blink into the bright light of white snow and unending white mountains. A windy gust pushes me onto my side as snow crackles underneath my weight. My heart is barely beating. I am barely breathing. Ice cold has wrapped its delicate fingers around my body.
I'm shivering.
My teeth clatter against themselves and my muscles violently contract. I manage to bring my arms around my shoulders and pull my legs toward my bare belly. My knees are purple. My skin along my toes is bright red. Snot and mucous creep down from my numb nose and freeze onto my chapped and dry lips.
I glance down my naked body and realize that I am beginning to suffer from frostbite. My extremities are numb, paralyzed with an escalating cold that bites into me. Blood is rushing to my brain and to my heart in order to keep me alive.
I try to stand but cannot. All I can do is lie here in the snow and let it pile around me. My skin is stinging and tight under the lashes of the snow.
My black hair is stuck on my cold face. I can feel it brittle and hard. I could completely snap it off if I wanted to.
My eyes are blinking even though the skin around my eyes is so tight and dry that I can barely squeeze my eyelids. I feel like I am in a tug-of-war between myself and twelve Vikings because my skin is so tight and unwilling to move. The Vikings are winning. My skin is becoming more and more taut as the wind picks up speed.
Snowflakes drift smoothly across me from behind and they crawl up my buttocks. I can feel it drip inside me. I am so cold and stiff that I cannot stop it. I can only abide this feeling, suffer through it.
Slowly, thoughts form inside my desolate and freezing mind. How did I come to be here? Where is here?
Thank you,
Erin Dameron-Hill
Legend: The Wolf
Legend: The Fey
Legend: The Chimera
Soon to be released: Dior, Dark Revelation, and Alpha Worship.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Wednesday - Plotting - Melodrama
Don't know about you but when I hear melodrama the first image I see is the evil villain twisting the ends of his mustache and yelling, You must pay the rent." Yes, this is melodrama, but what the term really means is something that's larger than life. Super heros are melodrama. The volcano erupting and threatening the hero and heroine is melodrama. Much depends on how you use this event that could easily go over the top.
Melodrama ignores the ordinary to hone on the unusual and unlikely, making the reader lose faith in the story. There can be a credibility gap. Think of melodrama as salt added to the story to enhance the flavor. Too liberal and the reader backs away. Using none and there is a blandness to the story.
So use melodrama without becoming cliched, trite,, silly or weird. There are ways that this can be dome. Next time I'll look at 7 or 8 wasy to sue melodrama to add flavor to the story.
Melodrama ignores the ordinary to hone on the unusual and unlikely, making the reader lose faith in the story. There can be a credibility gap. Think of melodrama as salt added to the story to enhance the flavor. Too liberal and the reader backs away. Using none and there is a blandness to the story.
So use melodrama without becoming cliched, trite,, silly or weird. There are ways that this can be dome. Next time I'll look at 7 or 8 wasy to sue melodrama to add flavor to the story.
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