A WRITER'S BLOCK

Sleeper Excerpt: Reed Having A Problem With Lily's Clothes

2011-12-13T06:12:00.000-08:00

There was no getting around it. He had to get her out of her clothes. Being in the icy water and wearing wet clothes had made her body lethargic. It was natural for the body to shut down and go to sleep. Besides, he couldn’t put her into bed in these clothes.

His hand reached around to the back of her top, and he slowly slid the zipper down. She stirred as the water hit her bare skin.

“I’m taking these dirty clothes off,” he said to her, hoping she could hear him. She didn’t say anything.

He paused. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He took a breath, then started to peel off the wet dress.

“Hurt,” she told him.

Her shoulder. Like it or not, he had to see how badly she was injured. And to do that…he pulled her top off her shoulders, sliding her arms off him so he could see her front. There was a nasty crimson gash on her forearm, but it wasn’t bleeding profusely. The bullet must have grazed her when she had leaned down to look at their assailant.

Get her clean first, then take care of the wound. Reed pulled the rest of the fabric down to Lily’s waist, trying to ignore the soft skin revealed underneath. Water washed over her as he tried to take the top off. He pulled it lower, his fingers working around the edges, concentrating on the flesh rather than what part of her body he was touching. He then realized it was the kind of dress a woman had to pull over her head.

Reed looked down again. He couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering. Her breasts were high and small, her nipples pink and erect. Drops of water settled on each areola, shimmering as they grew in size before toppling over, running down the sides of the soft mounds. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

“Dress,” he told himself firmly. “Off.”

He gathered her upper body against his bare chest as he worked with the zipper in the back. The damn thing just wasn’t coming off easily. All the while he could feel her slick breasts against him, sliding up and down, as he struggled with the top. He thought of the pink, erect nipples. Not good. His jeans were growing tighter by the second.

He tugged harder and heard the material tear. It came off easily then. He ran a tentative hand over her shoulder, wiping off the red and brown streaks. He caught sight of the bar of soap sitting on the dish nearby. He paused.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

He looked down at Lily again. Okay, he could skip soaping the front. She would understand…. The thought made his lips twist in self-mockery. He looked lower and shook his head. Whatever happened to underwear? He could see right through the thin material of her dark panty hose. There were tears here and there, caked with clumps of mud. Those had to come off too.

Water splashed on his head as he leaned forward and hooked his thumb under the material, tugging it downwards. He’d never taken panty hose off a woman before. They didn’t slide off like he’d thought they would. His hand went lower. He closed his eyes and pulled hard. He could feel the clingy material pulling away and felt the bare skin with his knuckles. He patted the area awkwardly.

You can’t get her clean if you don’t open your eyes, Vincenzio. Besides, he had to carry her out of the bathroom sooner or later.

It’s just a human body. He’d seen naked women before. Reed opened his eyes. And wished he hadn’t. He was never going to get out of his jeans in this condition.

********************

BUY SLEEPER (KINDLE)

BUY SLEEPER (NOOK)

BUY SLEEPER (SMASHWORDS)

Smashwords is for those who want to download into their computers and other e-reading devices. Esp. good for international readers who don't have a Kindle or Nook.

(Excerpt) Favorite Conversation Between Crossfire SEALs in SLEEPER

2011-12-01T15:44:00.000-08:00

SLEEPER AVAILABLE ON KINDLE

Hawk chuckled from his end. “At the rate you guys were moving down there, I considered coming down to give you sloths a hand.”

Reed checked the surroundings again with the nightscope as he continued listening. The practice runs were to familiarize the team with terrain and weather, so whether the code was red or yellow, it meant doing everything—from rolling in mud to setting up lookout points to staying up in shifts—by the book. Still nothing out there.

“Sloths. Like slothful in the Bible?” someone asked.

“He meant sloths, man,” Mink’s voice came over. “Those creatures don’t move more than an inch at a time or something. I read somewhere that it takes them a year to get down from a tree to have an annual crap.”

“Man, why don’t they just crap from the tree then?” Dirk asked.

Reed shook his head, a reluctant smile lifting the corner of his lips. It was a good thing no one else could hear their inane conversation. This was how his team was when they were semi-relaxed. Conversations like this reminded him of surfing. The ocean, too, had a language all its own, and the surfer had to pay attention to the ebb and flow of the tide as one rode the board and paddled out. Reed shook his head again. It’d been a while since he’d ridden the waves. He was missing it tonight.

“Do you think sloths have big balls?” someone lazily chimed in after a quiet lull.

“Ask Cumber,” Mink quipped back.

“Yo. Cumber, you awake?”

“I’m jerking off, scumbag. Go bother some other sloth.”

“You think if there were a Cumber Sloth he would take a year to jerk off to get an annual big O?” Dirk asked.

The suppressed chuckles came from different directions. There was another silence.

“Yo, Cumber.”

“I’m still jerking off.”

“I think a Cucumber Sloth would crap and jerk off at the same time,” Hawk observed. “Who’s on lookout duty?”

“Joker,” Jazz replied. “He’ll be on for the next two hours.”

Joker, as Reed knew everyone expected, didn’t acknowledge. He rarely had anything to say anyway. Unless he saw something out of the ordinary, he usually stayed away from conversation of any kind. He would check in every hour.

“Talk to you next Satellite update then, sloth.”

“Yeah, don’t have too much fun with your girl there, over.” Jazz signed off.

Amber Hutchens was also in the hospital, transferred to the UN base in Kosovo along with his commander, still recovering from an almost-overdose of drugs in her system. Reed hadn’t met her, but from what he’d heard from Jazz and Dirk, she was beautiful, very smart, and incredibly brave because of her role in saving a bunch of girls who had been kidnapped from their respective countries. Which made him think of Jazz’s fiancée, Vivienne Verreau, who was also beautiful, smart, and brave. Where the hell did they find these women?

“Hey, Cumber, you still jerking off?”

“Nah, taking a crap.”

“Knock off, Stooges.” Jazz brought them back on task.

In The Beginning

2010-01-02T07:52:00.000-08:00

In the beginning, there was light, and the light was good. It was pure and beautiful, something remarkable in its wondrousness, because all it did was to light up things.

In the beginning, it's always fresh because there was no thought of endings, and the space was always filled with good feelings, like hope, dreams, and good intentions. The light glows like bright spring sunshine and every color showed up brilliantly--the green of the grass, the red splash upon the robin's breast, the cloudless blue of the morning sky.

And the writer writes with so much joy because it was all pretty and fresh and so easy. There was no one to ask about imperfections because there were none yet. There was no fear of a mistep. No accidents. There was no deadline. Everything was about the light and how it lit up the world through her eyes.

Sometimes, as a writer, you struggle to retain this moment because the journey in the light could shift; sometimes it'd dim and in that slow darkness those colors that had mesmerized before seem so difficult to remember. The child-like springiness becomes plodding steps, brought on by fear. Because that darkness makes every movement tentative and malevolent voices start to eat one's soul.

It is a New Year, my dear. Nay, since you're cynical about such things, it is a NEW DECADE. Your 00s are over, with its dark ending and self-beating attitude. Make this your beginning again, when the light held that specialness that brought out your sense of wonder and your joy in sharing yourself to others with words. Lessons are meant to be put to good use, and you've learned many, but in this NEW DECADE, you should just let the light guide you while it's still bright and innocent.

TA DA!

2009-08-04T09:35:00.000-07:00

Look, look! It's almost here!

The new Virtually Hers cover! Hope you like it.

2009-06-21T06:37:00.000-07:00

Gennita's workshop on writing Herocentric/Heroinecentric romantic suspense.

Black, White and Shades of Gray. Thank you, Terry Odell for the summary.

Muse Is In Not In Charge Of These Things

2009-06-10T08:35:00.000-07:00

I'm interested in the process of what happens after you've listened to me and did the best you could do. Now you think you're ready for that process called publication.

Other Relationships

This article should be of interest to those of you who are looking for agents and editors who help you on the road to publication. What they can/will do for you as a writer and friend. What your future might be. How important it is to establish a dynamic relationship with that Agent and that Editor.

But I still say, your Muse is the most important factor here.

Something To Remember

2009-05-10T16:16:00.000-07:00

Rooferauthor sez, Grasshopper, if you put a small value upon yourself, rest assured that the world will not raise your price.

Writing Bravely

2009-05-08T17:10:00.000-07:00

Do you know what's the hardest thing about writing a different genre? Of course you know. You've been struggling with it for a few months now.

Voice.

You want the new book to have your trademark touch--that special male POV--yet different because it's a different genre. Dilemma, dilemma.

Your trying First Person POV is making a difference. Stop second-guessing about first-or-third-first-or-third and keep writing. Because the moment you can stay in one character's head and move the story, you'll forget to worry about anything but the story.

A Parable For Published Authors

2008-11-29T07:01:00.000-08:00

The following Taoist parable is copied from Julie Anne Long's essay on the publishing journey in RWR Dec. 2008. It caught my eye and I pondered on it a good long while. It is where you are now and it is where you think you are and it is where you are going.

***************

There was once a poor farmer who could afford to own just one horse. He took very good care of it, but one night it broke through a weak fence and ran away. The farmer's neighbors offered sympathy when they learned what had happened.

"What bad luck!" they exclaimed.

The farmer replied, "Maybe. Maybe not."

A week later, the farmer's horse returned, bringing with it three wild horses, and the farmer and his son managed to corral all of them.

"What great luck!" their neighbors enthused.

"Maybe," the farmer replied. "Maybe not."

The farmer's son set to work taming the wild horses, but while attempting to ride one of them, he was thrown to the ground and his leg was badly broken.

"What terrible luck!" the neigbors said this time.

The farmer replied, "Maybe. Maybe not."

The next day, soldiers visited the farmer's village to draft all the local young men into the army of a warlord. Because of his broken leg, the farmer's son was the only young man not taken. The neighbors descended on the farmer again.

"What wonderful luck!" they exclaimed.

"Maybe," the farmer said. "Maybe not."

*********

You think there's nothing you can do. You think this is all you can do. You think everything is floating away. You thing it's mostly your luck. You think your only horse is gone so you're now having to plow all by yourself. Again.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Your Own Self Told You

2008-10-19T19:20:00.000-07:00

From your interview at

http://webpetals.livejournal.com/233816.html

Here's what you wrote about your own writing:

Do you have any suggestions to help folks become a better writer? If so, what are they?

I write from emotion. It's important to remember that even though one may be writing about something totally out of one's experience, one should insert a thread of familiar emotion through it. I often start out with the main character's state of mind in my stories because it sets the tone to the whole book. In fact, now that I'm thinking about it, all my stories begin that way.

What do you think makes a good story?

A good story is intimate to the reader. It moves from being mere words on the pages to a scene or an emotion in the reader's mind. As a reader myself, good story is involving, surprising, often in deep POV. I love snappy dialogue and crazy action. I love characters who learn something about themselves as their stories evolved. And a good story, to me, must have a satisfying ending. That's why I read and write romance.

*********

I would like to ask that if you know your writing process so well, why are you crying so hard over your work-in-progress? Is it because it lack emotion?

Sometimes it's good to dissect one's own writing by asking the above simple questions. It can help solve your current problem in that stubborn project.

I know, the other books were all about dangerous men and women with guns and secrets, and this one is about a magical Viking with a big sword. You have to somehow get it into your head that it's the same thing and not get intimidated. For Muse's sakes, how can you be intimated about magical phrases, weird weapons, and unexplained phenomena when you tackled stuff like virtual entanglement, brain entrainment, and techno/bio-weaponry in your Virtual series without blinking?

What is the problem here?

These are the questions all writers must ask as they struggle.

2008-09-07T05:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a while. I've been skipping out on you, I know, but Muse needs replenishing too. Your personal bad news about your book affected my happy thoughts so much, I had to go dip in the Well of Rejuvenation and give you a mental break.

Are you ready to get back on your feet?

Need I remind you about that speech given by Connie Brockway at RWA just before you received that horrendous bad news? Okay, let's go look at the steps of the Superhero Writer, as pointed out by the excellent Ms. Brockway.

1) Ordinary world

2) Call to adventure

3) Refusal of the Call

4) Crossing the threshold

5) tests, allies, enemies

6) Approach to Innermost Cave

7) The Supreme Ordeal

8) Reward

9) The Road Back

10) Resurrection

Sometimes, my friend, the journey starts over and over again because resurrection is all about that. Which part of this Superhero Writer journey are you on now? I think you've gone into Number 6 and are refusing to come out. Come on, you need sunlight to grow.

What about you others out there? Which part of the journey are you on?

That First Step

2008-07-05T11:03:00.000-07:00

How do you start a new novel? I have given you a childhood memory, one that should bring rich results if you mine it right. But dare you plunge into that place and make it your hero's story?

There's so much hope when a new journey teeters at the edge of your imagination. To spark that first step, just go for that memory because sometimes that's where the character will choose to stay.

I know you're laughing. Who would want to read about Kuala Lumpur, 1978? But...it could be a nice prologue....

Evaluation

2008-05-01T20:56:00.000-07:00

What does this picture say to you as a writer?

The Dream Car Isn't Running Well

2008-04-06T12:30:00.000-07:00

Today's writing block is about being one lap down. Sometimes two. It's very hard to stay focus where everyone else's is ahead of you having a great time being "in" the race. Okay, so you think you're focused, but I know, deep down, you're thinking about all the problems that could be plaguing your "engine."

What is wrong with me?

Why can't I write faster?

Why am I going backwards?

What is wrong with me?

Who are these people flying by?

How do I keep up?

What is wrong with me?

It's even more difficult when everyone is giving you solutions that worked for them, but somehow, not for you. Take a break, let the Muse rest (I'm well-rested and gently leading you back, hopefully). Write something else (yes, those other stories are now too damn tantalizing, aren't they? I apologize). Pray (I'm praying too, because I feel you're in need of higher faith).

You know what's more important? That you don't give up. It's your race and you will get to the end, even if it's a few laps down this time. Giving up out of frustration will come back to haunt you, makes you fear what you love, and take away your self-esteem. Better to grit your teeth, look ahead, and go for the best finish you can till the next pitstop.

You never know. We might figure out the problem with your "engine" on the next pitstop. Don't be distracted by the speed and power of others. Your driving skills are fine, or you wouldn't be in this race in the first place.

Very Important Advice

2008-03-13T09:17:00.001-07:00

Auntie Muse brings you words of wisdom from another writer's Muse:

Vampires Of The Internet

Writers, beware of all your blocks. Some become your foundation. Others are mental blocks.

Do you have this vampire sucking on your writerly juices? Confess.

Words Come And Go

2008-03-02T05:32:00.000-08:00

Cutting a major portion manuscript is like:

A self-wound.

Watching your favorite thing ripped to pieces.

Having the blast of wind snatch something precious out of your hand and taking off.

I know it hurt. But it has to be done sometimes. If not, they'll tell you it's the most boring story ever told. And I'll have to say, "I told you so, G Low."

Take a deep breath. Delete it. Then drink some coffee and start anew.

****************

Look at your story objectively. Why do you have to cut?

1. Infodump, infodump, infodump. Readers don't like that these days, especially when it's inserted like a science manual. Or, if a character suddenly goes into a "as you know, Joe" conversation, bringing up important details like a reporter. It's a roll-your-eyes moment.

2. That Villain Who Talk Too Much. Villain motivation is the most difficult to write without moti-dumping. "I hate the world because my momma beat me and everyone used me, so now I'm going to tell you every detail of what I did the last few weeks/months for revenge so you'll have time to find a way to kill me." That kind of dumping.

3. Twenty-page sex scenes are so twentieth century, darling.

4. Plot hole the size of the ozone. Useless to try to cover it. Just cut, cut, cut.

5. Too big a plot and too small a book, and by small, I mean restricted word count. Your reader will think you're naive. Your Muse will kill herself from embarrassment. It isn't that this is wrong, but as a professional writer, writing length IS part of the business is some ways, unless, of course, you're the IT Girl. Then your books can be tomes. But you aren't the IT Girl. So deal.

CUT!

And how are you writers out there with the cutting? What is the biggest weakness in your writing lately? Have your Muse been nudging you to cut? Do you need Auntie Muse to tell you what stuff to look for too?

What's Your Writing Process?

2008-02-29T08:57:00.000-08:00

On Feb 22, Gennita blogged about this when she guestblogged at RIDING WITH THE TOP DOWN. I thought that I'd record it here so she can be reminded that her MUSE needs a massage sometimes.

***************************
I thought I would relate about my writing process.

Mine is like getting a massage. And I don't mean just a plain old ordinary massage because suspense is all about plunging into a series of action-packed scenes, with dangerous things happening to the hero/heroine, and of course, letting things slide out of control. And while all this is happening, the writer (me) has to keep saying, "Well, it can't get worse than this," and of course, I make it so.I can hear you now. Come on, Gennita, massages are lovely and relaxing experiences, meant to make the mind zone out, and put you in the zen state. There is no such thing as a suspenseful massage.

Well, you're so wrong. Let me tell you about the Korean Super Special Spa Pack.
One day, my sister booked me for a spa appointment in Fairfax, VA. It was a holiday weekend, and everything was either closed or booked, but she finally found an opening in a Korean spa. Okay, I've never been to one before, but I'm no stranger to the exotic and odd since I've been to a unisex Finnish spa before (another adventure for another time), so I just shrugged and told her, "Sure, sis, book me. It's in Fairfax. How foreign can it be?" She booked me for the Korean Super Special Spa Pack.

1) First step in suspense. Something odd happens.
I knew something was up when the Korean lady (who spoke no English) handed me a toothbrush. I took it from her and stared at it. Why would she want me to brush my teeth before a massage?

There was an open shower area and I guess I was expected to shower too. Okay. Did both.

2) Second step in suspense. Strange things begin to happen.
It didn't take long before I found out that the Special Pack was a total NEKKID facial and body scrub massage punching bag elbow rubbing head to toe humiliation process.

A half-nekkid lady appeared. I blinked. That was the last time I blinked because, the Special Pack also included a facial. If you're the claustrophobic type, this one ain't for you. I was wrapped in this seaweedy mummy gauzy padding and could barely see through the slits.

Remember, I was nekkid. And I thought (yes, you got it right), "How much worse can this get?"

3) Third step in suspense. It gets worse.
My masseuse (whom I couldn't see) started working on my body like it was a piece of meat. I kept thinking, in a oddly calm hysterical way, “A NEKKID woman is soaping me!” I have never had a nekkid woman soap me. The fun really began when she started to deep massage me and SMACK me. Not hard, just like: Smack, Smack! Massage, massage...Smack! Smack! Massage.

I was having visions of being in a Bertrice Small novel and I started to crack up, except that I dare not laugh because seaweed would fall into my mouth...And I thought (go on, repeat after me), "How much worse can this get?" I was turned over. Whew, at least my boobs weren't staring up in embarrassed surprise any more.

My masseuse started elbowing all the knots in my muscles. Then she SPANKED ME. SPANK! SPANK! I think I swallowed some seaweed. I was still cracking up when she started to punch my legs. PUNCH PUNCH! Massage, massage. Then she punched the BOTTOM of my feet. PUNCH! PUNCH! Massage, massage.My arms and legs were moved in all sorts of positions that would rival the Karma Sutra. Trust me, some of these positions would make your face red.Through it all, I thought, "It can't possibly get worse than that."

No?

4) Fourth step in suspense. Prove yourself wrong.

THEN to TOP IT ALL, she CLIMBED ON TOP of me and started sliding her knees up and down behind my oiled thighs and calves. It felt great BUT A NEKKID WOMAN WAS SLIDING UP AND DOWN ME. ARgggghhhhh.There was nothing I could say or do. I had seaweed in my eyes, on my face, in my mouth. I was supposed to be relaxed and feeling at one with the universe. I wasn't. And I couldn't run away. A naked, hysterical woman with weird stuff pasted on her face running down the street in Fairfax just wasn't me. So I lay there. And hoped there was no camera taping this adventure for some Internet Weird Site.

5) The Suspense Ends. Your Heroine and Hero Survive.
The last part of the Super Pack involved the Mummy Experience. My masseuse scalded me with the HOTTEST towels I ever had and deep massaged me. Then she cooled me off with cold towels. Repeat with Hot Towels.

I was finally unmasked...and had to hide my maniacal trying-not-to-scream smile. She cleaned me off, picking seaweed crumbs off my face, MY ARMPITS, even washed my hair and massaged the top of my head. I prayed that this part would NOT include smacking the top of my head.

No thumping on the head, whew.She poured milky stuff all over me and did a slow rub down. I almost slid off the table, the stuff was so slick.

Finally, she matter-of-factly tapped my shoulder and pointed to the nearby spa pool to wash off. I crawled away in relief.I will tell you girls, just like finishing a suspense novel, I couldn't walk properly the next morning. I still couldn't feel my body parts. I felt like I'd been in a Korean SPAR.

And *that* is my writing process.

Not That Auntie Muse Wants To Depress The Eager Writer

2008-02-13T12:17:00.000-08:00

Here is an entry by agent Jennifer Jackson about money from the first book, the breakdown of payments, and not quitting the day job immediately.

http://arcaedia.livejournal.com/139537.html

Auntie Muse just wants to make sure that writers write because they love their muses, that's all.

Any questions?

Juggling Plotlines

2008-01-27T20:34:00.000-08:00

Sometimes it's just one page.

I'll take it.

Something to start the flow. A line floating by. The image of a silhouette against the sunlight. The sigh of sleeplessness. It all means something. Use them as the starting point.

It's funny how a plot can blow up into so many sub-plots, isn't it? Well, funny in a panicky clown-juggling-balls sort of way. On a unicycle. Ya, you, da clown. You just have to make people laugh while you struggle, don't you?

The hardest part with the middle of a story is the inability to close those growing story holes. Too many balls in the air, and you're afraid they'll fall on the ground and bounce off. You can't think about that when you're juggling writing. You have to keep up with your inner eye.

When you stop juggling, then THAT is the time to patch those holes. I suppose you can reverse juggle and get all that done the first time round, but really, you aren't that good a clown yet.

The First Day To Greatness

2008-01-01T06:41:00.000-08:00

All right.

Vacation's over.

You KNOW IT'S TIME to get back into the story. There is pain and pleasure in writing, in any creation. You have had the pleasure of reading and rereading, now because you've been eating too many sweet books and procrastinating, I must whip the words out of you.

Today, you will start a new chapter. Literally. It's the first day of the year, my dear girl. Write outside if you have to, but write. It'll take off from there.

Hmm. The sound of a swishing whip is rather sexy.

The Excuser

2007-12-02T06:02:00.001-08:00

You have been reading. And learning from reading. That is good. But now you need to sit down and write. You have been ignoring your problem and instead have taken to walking down the path admiring other people's roses. That's well, for a while, but when you do that:

1) the writer in you loses focus
2) the creator in you starts dozing
3) the story in you wanders away
4) the doubter in you begins doing that horrible disgusting self-emolliation thing that makes me want to kick your backside. Hard.

What's your current writing block like?

2007-11-13T05:08:00.001-08:00

You complained today that you feel like your creativity is like a washing machine in use--rinse, spin, repeat. Laundry is so easy to do--here is the machine, hit the button. Why are you complaining? Is it because I don't make you handwash like your mom used to? Use those arm muscles to wring the tears of creativity out of the big towels? Come on. If writing is like being in a washing machine, then life is good, my dear.

Any other complaints out there? Let Auntie Muse fix it with a good old-fashion talking to.

The Inner Mind Is A Freezer

2007-11-04T04:56:00.001-08:00

Rules to feed the Muse:

1) You have to write something creative everyday. I thrive on your imagination. If you don't use it, I have nothing to say. And the more you don't use it, the more I freeze.

2) You have to read the newspapers or a good magazine. Watching the news is not analytical and it stimulates your other senses. I need you to work that muscle that enjoy the written word. It slows down the "here and now" factor and makes you pause. Images are powerful, but you're a writer. You have to create life with words. Therefore, you need to absorb words too.

3) Travel alone if you can. A short trip is fine, but you must be alone. No family or lover. Let me be your sole companion. Yes, I am a possessive friend.

4) Think of your belief system. Religion--be in Christian, Judaism, Buddhism, anything-ism--is always good for internal conflict. It also provides you with soul food. A belief system helps shape your writing and bring out your voice.

5) Laugh. It's good to see humor in life. I thrive on your fun and joy. It's not fun to write everyday when there's nothing to smile about. Everything tastes like freezer-burned ice-cream when there's no humor. I don't like that. It makes me think about killing your characters because life is so damn bleak when ice-cream tastes like that. (See, I made you smile.)

6) Feed me with your pain and use me as an outlet. I'll find a way to give you comfort. Your private loss will be shown to you in secret through your writing, and it'll be universally shared. It is the writer's right to bare her soul.

7) I'm not a wedding cake. Do not freeze me and wait for some special anniversary. Don't wait. Write now. Create now.

A Mental Breakthrough

2007-10-09T18:03:00.000-07:00

Today I spoke to you through your agent. Did you hear me?

Let's review:

1. It's Just Jed.

2. He isn't the work of your life.

3. It's. Just. Jed.

4. Don't let him block you. He's a bastard. He's trying to keep you from all your other heroes. He's jealous of being replaced. He wants to be JUST JED. See? Different emphasis, Gennita.

I speak through different ways, different people, because sometimes you don't listen to me. And I hope, by using unexpected voices, there will be a revelation to unblock your fear.

Listen to your agent. She is right. Make that poster and put it in front of you.

It's Just Jed.

To my readers, listen carefully. Sometimes, the most unexpected voice is your Muse's in disguise.

Thank you, Gennita's agent. You got her attention!

Open and Shut

2007-09-13T18:53:00.000-07:00

I kind of like the term eyes wide shut. No, not the Kubrick film, although all those elaborate masks were pretty. I'm referring to your resistance to sleepwalk with me. I'm sorry, I can't guide you when your mind is on things out there in your "real" world.

Remember all those years you were busy roofing and couldn't write even when you felt the urge? Too tired, I think, was your excuse. Lack of creative juice, I remember, was your diagnosis.

No. Your eyes were not wide shut when you looked at me. It really hurt my feelings because I was standing right in front of you.

Yet you kept your journals, pouring out words, and I thought, there's hope yet. If only you would stop trying so hard.

Remember how you overcame your problem? You sat down one night and gave yourself over to me. And suddenly, you saw the slew of Vikings descending down the hill, with your long-haired slave riding in the middle. And your knight-hero watching the enemy coming down, with blood lust and battle cries in the air.

Oh, that was an awful, awful story you wrote. The terrible knights who talked like SEAL boys; the Viking berserker who was into mind control; the horrid, horrid 'nays' and 'sirrahs,' the heroine who was six foot tall and kickass like kungfu goddess Chieng Pei Pei in her prime. Hahahahahahahaha.

But that moment freed me from my imprisonment. The words flowed, I had a great time watching you rummage in that treasure box, looking at pieces of your lost soul.

Ah.

These days I feel you looking for them again. Where have you hidden them this time, writer? Are your eyes wide shut?

Writing Demons

2007-08-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

Today I found a very appropriate picture and I named it Writing Demons:

Which is your demon hanging onto you, Writer?

1) Doubt

2) Procrastination

3) Fear

4) Daily Chores (yes, bills, included)

5) Family

6) FEAR (there is a capital-lettered one different from #3)

7) Blockage

8) Over-Analysis

9) Bloatedness

10) False Friends

11) Dependence

12) Critics and Fear of Criticism

13) Desire, or lack of

14) Dreams and Fantasies

15) Weak Will

There are more, but let's stop here before you scare yourself too much. Or maybe, you can tell me what is it exactly that's freezing your brain these days? I am a good listener.

Imploration

2007-08-08T19:40:00.000-07:00

There's a darkness in a writer's soul that even my light cannot shine for you. I know how cold it is there; I have seen you shiver when you tread into that cavern. Don't stay in there too long. Whatever you're seeking in there might harm you. I do not know; I have never been there. I only know that it stops you from writing. Stops you from creating. Stops you from being.

You have gone in there too long this time. The frost is not good for you. Do not keep grieving.

Grief can freeze a writer's soul.

Come back. Create.

*****************

You out there: what is stopping you today? Because there are places Gennita's Muse advises you to avoid.

Risky Bithnez

2007-07-29T08:18:00.000-07:00

Two plot interruptus examples from the previous post:

1) 101 ways to harpoon a whale inserted in the middle of an angsty whale hunting/soul searching metaphor?

2) the ten pages of how the bomb was built while the hero looks at the device?

You have done your research. You want to share your knowledge. You want your readers to see the complicated details involved, and how much legwork you have done. So, in the middle of hunting for the mighty elusive whale, in the middle of cleaning whale gut and showing life on the sea, you insert a chapter of the different kinds of whales and the use of its massive body parts. You give, in excruciating detail, the width, the length, the depth of each of the dead whale's lips and ballocks. I die from the pain of laughter and resigned bemusement. And I'm just the Muse. Imagine your reader's reaction.

Truly, the wonders of whaling, the bloody battle, the incredible size, and the minuteau of fish filleting, would capture the attention, if rightly done. However, like an overchewed bubblegum that sometimes one just gnaw at even though one's jaw is hurting from the work, I think an author can be guilty of pounding the reader over and over with a wordy anvil until the reader gets a headache and starts skipping pages.

Just like describing the building and workings of a bomb in the middle of your explosive scene. You're killing your own suspense when the urge comes over you to impart your scientific research. Can we say, researchdump? Yes, we can.

I see your eagerness to show how terrible this device is, how much damage it could do with a few wires. Can I shout something in your ear? SHOW IT! By telling and telling and telling, you're losing the impact. Either explode the plane and rain pieces of human debris all over the landscape or pull it back, give one of your characters the sobering thought of himself as so many pieces of human debris. An image is worth a thousand scientific explanations, dear writer mine.

But I see your obstacles to clear storytelling. It's not easy to avoid scientificdump, especially if you're writing a techno-thriller, is it? After all, a techno-thriller deals with technology and its characters throws out phrases that could sound like a bad Star Trek fanfic. That first book nearly killed you, didn't it? All that research. All that information. So much to impart in a Book One.

This is what I mean with the daily battle with words you encounter as a writer. I can only show you so much because you're the attacking front to my strategizing. You're fighting with yourself because you know your readers don't want the scientificdump, so you keep holding back, and blocking your own flow.

It is an ambitious war you've chosen. Let's break it down:

1) You want to write a continual romantic thriller series because it's not out there.
2) You want to explore a continual romantic entanglement between two people.
3) You want to explore the cloak-and-dagger world with really cloak-and-dagger subjects that most people do not understand--the use of virtual reality and remote viewing, in the true-est sense, with scientific items and biological know-how to explain the phenomenon.
4) You want to write it all in one neat little package, meaning you risk alienating the readers who want the romance and find the science parts too scifi and the readers who are intrigued with the new type of techno parts and find the sex way too sexy.
5) To top it all, you want the male protagonist who will provoke nothing but the strongest response from your readers. Why? Because his idea of sex is closer to the kind depicted in erotic romance than romantic thrillers.

Can I shout again? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?

But we pushed on. And you tasted your first battle in this epic from the heroine's perspective. It has left you bloody. Now you want it from HIS erotic perspective.

Can I?...ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?

But we're talking of poop interruptus, aren't we? Not a problem. Next time, on to the next couple of examples from the previous post. That doesn't mean I won't explore the outcome of the risks you took with your battle decisions. Because you won some, and you lost some. Was it worth it?

Who won the battle? The alligator or the snake?

A Plot Rendered Unusable

2007-07-21T17:18:00.001-07:00

Could it be the

101 ways to harpoon a whale inserted in the middle of an angsty whale hunting/soul searching metaphor?

the ten pages of how the bomb was built while the hero looks at the device?

500 characters who have a say in what goes on in the story?

the three dozen times your heroine sabotages the plot with her stupidity?

the plodding description of every room in the house and everyone's clothes?

the joylessness of five thousand sexual positions in one night?

the cute child who has a wise saying/observation every five pages?

We can discuss each of these, if you like, to see why they can kill a plot for a reader. Can you come up with a writing block that stopped your interest?

I call this block ~~Plot~~ Poop Interruptus. It's curable.

Plot: Think Sideways

2007-07-05T19:40:00.000-07:00

Plot is so boring. Consider these words instead:

Journey (as in Gabaldon's long saga of Jaime and Claire)

Adventure (as in The Bros of the Black Dagger)

Battle (as in the Dark Hunter books)

Flirtation (as in Pride and Prejudice)

Quest (as in the Feehan Carpathian books)

Game (as in Nikita Black's Cajun Hot)

Mission (as in LKH's Merry Gentry series)

Vision (as in Buffy)

Soul Searching (as in Facing Fear)

Remake (as in Into Danger)

Rebirth (as in Wuthering Heights)

Blooming (as in Linda Howard's Shades of Twilight)

Do you see? Can you think of a few more interesting words other than PLOT?

What They Call Plot

2007-07-03T17:57:00.000-07:00

I come to you in dreams, in visions, in strange phrases, and from them you pull out plot, character, conflict, and those other things that give your story structure. Sometimes you overdo it, worrying about structure. You lose your story. You set the rules; I have none, you see.

Let's start with how you learn your first word, your first visual, your first phrase.

A is for apple.

And so your plot can be the simplest of them all, a story with an apple. And this fruit is given to you the writer to make bigger than life, to lovingly build your story around. Too many details and the apple loses significance. So the first step to plot is control.

A is for apple. What comes to mind? Let me unveil examples of perfect control in plot development.

The Forbidden Apple
as in Adam's and Eve's story (it started with A, huh?)

The Poisoned Apple, variation of the Forbidden Apple
as in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

The Golden Apple
as in the one that brought forth the Fall of Troy in Homer's Illiad (oi, but that was a mighty finely intricate tale, indeed)

The Apple of Challenge
as in William Tell shooting the apple on his son's head

You see? One simple fruit, four diverse stories. All I had to do was show you an apple. And you weave your magic. So don't talk to me about building plots and charting chapters. Let me tempt you with this apple, apprentice.

What kind of apple do you see? It's a story in disguise.

And So It Begins

2007-07-02T20:41:00.001-07:00

Words are coming. Don't waste them on worrying about what you can't control. Keep going, keep going. The words will flow soon, like that imaginary Milky Way. The beautiful shiny one in the sky, hungry one.