My Memory of Writing

So it begins. This is the first topic for the 28 day Author Blog Challenge. Enjoy the read!

Describe your earliest memory of writing. How did your writing habit/process/career develop?

My earliest memory of writing, wow. I know I wrote as far back as age four (my dear mother kept some of my stories) but my personal memory doesn't kick in until seventh grade. It is the worst memory of writing that I have and that very factor may be the reason I remember it so clearly.

My English class was assigned a short story project that I was excited about. We could write on any topic we wanted and the story had to be three pages in length. I took to it with gusto and wrote a fairy tale about a brave warrior, trolls, and magical keys that released princesses from their prisons. My mother sat in the room with me and watched me write it from beginning to end in one session. Never one to complete much (okay, any) homework, my teacher was shocked when I handed it in on time. I knew I had written well and felt good about the work I had turned in.

When I got it back a week later, I had made a B- and there was a note in fiery red ink scrawled across the top of the page: What book did you copy this out of? If I close my eyes really tightly, I can still see it. My heart sank to my feet, butterflies entered my stomach, and tears welled up in my eyes.

I had made some errors in the body of the story (misplacement of commas - JUST TWO) and that crotchety old lady thought that I copied the story. Newsflash: If I had copied the story, there would have been ZERO errors. Duh.

So I go home that day wretched, with my paper in my hand, and fall into my mother's arms. I was crying and babbling about finally doing some homework and getting accused of cheating the moment I did. I showed her the paper and cried harder.

I had never seen my mom to go war before but the lady went to war with that teacher over what she had written on my paper. It wasn't the grade that upset either of us, it was the fact that, because I couldn't diagram a sentence or tell a noun from a verb from an adverb, the teacher thought there was no way I could write that well on my own. Mama let the teacher know that I wrote the story while supervised and there was no way I had cheated.

I got an apology but it had a deep impact on my psyche. What I didn't realize at the time was, my story was so good, my teacher thought I had copied it from a real writer! But, hey, I was a kid.

No one read anything I wrote again until I was in college and had to write papers for my classes. Up to that point, I had been writing for myself. If I was assigned a paper in high school, I just didn't do it. My professors began asking me how long I had been writing. I never told any of them the story behind the reason I stopped.

I just shrugged and said, "I don't really write, I read."

When my Composition I professor asked if she could use one of my papers as an example of excellent writing, I was flabbergasted. When my World History professor told me he had never seen such an excellent paper written before and asked if he could keep it for himself, I was floored. I had something unique and they made sure I knew it. Those two professors gave me more self-assurance than anyone ever had. After all, they weren't related and they still loved my work!

World History is the class that gave me the idea for Yassa (releasing in two days) and is based on the very research that was gathered for my most excellent research paper on Genghis Khan that my professor kept.

I guess the simple answer is, my earliest memory of writing sucks but I truly began writing in college. After I graduated last year, I have taken to it like a duck to water.

I developed a writing schedule, laid my plans, and went to work. I am more satisfied with my personal success of just finishing Yassa than I have been my whole life when I finished anything else. When I finished The Abigale Chronicles - Book One, I felt on top of the World.

I can't imagine doing anything else and getting as much pleasure from it as I do from writing. It's what I was born to do.

Though I still have a hard time with the parts of speech, I can sit down and compose well because I understand. I suppose it goes back to the old saying: "Those who do not read, cannot write."

That's all for today. Until next time, WRITE ON!!

Jo

Writing Prompts FUN

Today I shall throw out a few writing prompts for all of you.

I would love to read what you come up with from these.

Rules of MY game:

Keep it to 500 words or less.
You must use ALL five (or six) senses AND be descriptive.
No full paragraphs with backstory. Work it into the tale.
No text speak, please. Be a writer.
Choose only ONE.
You must play nice and if you comment on what someone else writes and it's rude, I will remove your comment AND your post.

Let's get started!!

#1:

Phoebe is a married student going for her PhD. Her husband is Braxton. Braxton has a deep, dark secret that Phoebe discovers. How she finds it, what she does with the information, and what that secret is will be up to you to decide. What she's getting her PhD in is something else you decide.

#2:

Selina is a fairy who has no wings. She is made fun of on a daily basis by her peers who can fly. Her best friend is a snail (you may name him/her) who wants to take over fairyland. Selina must find out why and stop the snail. You decide if she gets her wings and how she accomplishes the task.

#3:

Roger is a spy for a multimillion dollar corporation who is about to turn into the bad guy. He kills people that get in the way of the corporate plan and he fidgets with electronics. Why he turns on his company or what he is going to steal or do to them is up to you to decide. Is he married and does his wife know what he does?

Let's have some fun with this. I can't wait to read what you all write.

Don't forget, Yassa releases next week!! *excited* So, keep your eyes open for that one!

Getting out of here for now, until next time, WRITE ON!!

Jo

Best Practice

A blog is good writing practice. If you do it every day, it can also serve as a warmup before you begin writing in earnest. If you are a fan of short stories or not, write them.

Your writing will be at its best when you are feeling. It doesn't matter what you're writing about, just write it. Describe the way you feel, what you smell, what you see. Use all your senses. A good example is this post. Feeling and writing about it are parts of inviting your reader into your character's soul. It's part of drawing them in and making them care and identify with the person in the story.

It goes back to my post about Writers that Cannot Feel, Cannot Write. If you are a snail, you probably shouldn't be writing in the first place, right? Plus, that slimy trail you leave on the paper isn't very attractive...

So write your blog when you feel strongly about something. If it's something you read in the news and you're angry, write about it. You have a voice, use it. After all, that's why we write, right?

If you haven't gotten The Abigale Chronicles - Book One yet, go get it now. At $1.99, it's one heck of a deal! Abigale is about to embark on a new and exciting adventure! Book Two will be out in July, 2012!!

Remember to look for Yassa in June, 2012!! Editing away, I am.

Until next time, WRITE ON!!!

Jo

"Indescribable" and Why it Cannot Work for a Writer

Ever hear someone say, "I don't know how to describe it!"? As writers, we are duty bound to describe everything. It comes with the territory. So I discuss feelings today and how we might describe them with our words.

Angry - Having a strong feeling of or showing annoyance, displeasure, or hostility; full of anger.

Okay, there's the definition. What about the feeling itself? How does it affect your body, mind, and thought process? That is what a writer must describe. Forget the damned definition for a minute and think of something that makes you angry. Dwell on it and let it consume you for a few minutes. Now, close your eyes, put your fingers on your keyboard, and describe that feeling.

My attempt (I will use a time I was betrayed by someone I considered a friend in school):

I want to rip her head off her shoulders. If I thought I could physically do that, I swear I would. My heart is racing, my stomach feels like it's on fire, everything in my vision is blurry. I am shaking from head to toe and I am scared I will not be able to control this beast if I let it out of its cage. My hands want to connect with something while balled into fists. My throat is tight and I want to scream horrible things at her. I want to ruin her life so she can feel the same way that I do right now. I would tear her hair, punch her face, and call her every name I think she deserves (which is many).

Now, you can tell someone exactly what betrayal of a friend feels like to Jo. In every book, we read feelings based on those that the writer has experienced. In every character, the writer suffers. If the writer does not suffer, the characters are flat and boring. Let's try another one.

Love - An intense feeling of deep affection

hahaha!! Now that definition is so basic, it makes me want to gag!!

Repeat steps above and write it down.

My attempt (I am thinking of my boyfriend and love of my life, Mike):

My heart is pounding in my chest and my whole body feels like every nerve ending is on overdrive. His face fills my mind and tears spring to my eyes because I am overwhelmed by the intensity of it and there's no other way to release the feeling. If I don't let it out or express it somehow, I am afraid it will keep growing and cause me to shut down completely until I feel his hand on mine or his arms around me. I feel like there is a steel cable that runs from my heart to his and that the further apart we are, the thicker and stronger it becomes. I have a pulling sensation in my stomach and chest that tells me I need to be near him. When I am near him, it stops pulling and lies at rest. I feel an all encompassing fear along with everything else because I worry that it's too good; too much. I see his face and smile because he is beautiful, he makes me unbelievably happy, and my feet and head feel light as a feather.

If you want to, feel free to draw on those descriptions. If you notice, they intertwine with other feelings.

I set this challenge for you today: BEGIN YOUR BIBLE OF FEELINGS

Open up your word processor and list every feeling you can think of. Spend a few minutes every day filling it out. I beg you not to try each and every one of them in a single day because you will end up totally spent and with such a tumult of emotions in you, you might not be able to think. In addition, drawing on all of those memories may leave you with the lingering feelings. You have memories! USE THEM!

Leave a comment today with your attempt. I would love to read them! List your feeling, the definition, and your description! Let's make it fun!

I am running late today. Time to write!!

Until next time, WRITE ON!!

Jo

Writers that Cannot Feel... Cannot Write

Today I am discussing feelings (or lack thereof) and what happens to a writer that cannot feel.

We all have those days when we are upset and the words flow. We all have those days where we are sublimely happy and the words flow. But what happens when we are numb? When the brain empties itself of all ability to do more than stare at a blank wall?

We read. At least, I do. I find solace in the words of others and they provide me with an escape from my numbness. When I read that Mr. Darcy insulted Ms. Eliza, I feel his insult just as she would have. It provides a way for me to connect to another human being (even if they are fictional).

Readers - and all writers MUST be readers - are a hypersensitive bunch. A true reader will pick up a book and become lost in the story flowing from the pages. If the story is well written, the reader carries a little piece of that book with them for the rest of their lives; especially if the characters have qualities we admire.

Example: When I read about the totally unassuming way that Ms. Jane Bennet looks at every person on the Earth and makes allotments for their shortcomings and flaws and never speaks ill of anyone, I find that quality endearing and my drive to be more like Jane increases. Ms. Eliza Bennet has a sharp tongue and a quick wit that keeps me engaged with her and those are qualities I find most people lacking. I instantly want to be more like Elizabeth.

If you ever find yourself lost in a book or character, ask yourself why. What is it about them that you love? Maybe they are so evil that you are stunned and that's why they stick with you. You begin to watch other people for signs that the character displayed so you will know to avoid them.

Books have a deep impact on our psyche, whether we want to admit it or not. Writers need books to read in order to fuel their passion and introduce them to unique qualities in people that we may never have met in real life.

When we cannot feel, we cannot write because we cannot bring passion to the pages of our stories.

But we can always read.

Remember, today is the last day to get your copy of The Abigale Chronicles - Book One!! Follow me on twitter (@writejomichaels) or follow my blog to get your code for the free download.

I am early today so I am going to poke around and comment on other blogs that I follow.

A question for all you writers out there: What do you do when you can't write? What causes your block?

Until next time, WRITE ON!!

Jo

Bringing Truth to Fiction

Something I think every author struggles with is telling the truth in their story. So you write fantasy, you say? Well, there is still a note of truth even in a fantasy novel. Your characters must be true to life or you do your readers a great disservice.

Here's an example:

Carol is a mother of three who just lost her job, her husband, and is angry at the world. Let's give Carol something to complain about other than that. We will pile pain on top of pain and see how she reacts...

Carol was worn out from the day of fighting with Jake and from trolling the city looking for a new job. She changed her clothes, turned off the light, and started for bed. She stubbed her toe, hard, on the corner of the open bathroom door near the switch. "Ouch!" she yelled, grabbing her foot and hopping around before tumbling into bed and crying herself to sleep. How could he do this to her and their kids?

Now, I don't know about you, but if I were going through all that, I'm positive that "Ouch!" would NOT be my reaction. Let's try again, being true to Carol's character...

Carol was exhausted and pissed off after her day of fighting with Jake, her bastard ex, and from trolling the city looking for a new job - what a joke that was in the current market! She changed her clothes, turned off the light, and started for bed. She stubbed her toe, hard, on the corner of the open bathroom door near the switch. "Shiiiiiiiiiit!" she yelled, grabbing her foot and continuing to scream a stream of curse words while hopping on one foot to the bed and crying herself to sleep with thoughts of ripping Jake's head from his slimy ass shoulders. How the hell could he do this to her and her kids?

Now, the Carol in example one is sterile. Most readers would read that and be okay with it. However, Carol in example two is passionate and you can feel how she feels. But there is something else!! Carol in example one seems defeated, worn down and ready to feel sorry for herself. Carol in example two shows grit and a woman who is angry but who is pushed by that anger.

If you continued both stories in your head, the first would likely continue with her waking up and hitting the streets again to find a job. But the second would likely lead you to Carol dreaming up some sort of revenge to exact on dear old Jake. If you write and are true to your character's personality and life struggles, your book will take on a quality all its own.

Not everyone can do that. I always say, writers are born, not made. Anyone can learn to write well, it's the ability to write with passion and drive that separates the two.

That's all for today!! I hope you enjoyed the read.

Remember, there's just three more days before the coupon on The Abigale Chronicles - Book One expires! So, start following today and get your code for your FREE copy of this great first book in the series!

Until next time, WRITE ON!!

Jo

Monday, Monday, Monday!!! 6,000!

Yes, you read that right. It's Monday! UGH to daylight savings time - it has me alllll screwed up.

Time for a short story!

As I stand, alone, in the darkness, letting my eyes try to adjust, I begin to panic. I can feel my palms sweating and my heart racing in my chest; it's loud in the silence of the night. My legs begin to shake and I am fighting back both the urge to scream and the urge to run. I know that I can't give away my location but can't remember why or how I had gotten here. All I remember is falling asleep in my bed and waking up to this pitch blackness and the smell of trees, leaves, and grass. I am barefoot, dressed only in my nightgown, and I can feel a slight dampness in the ground beneath my feet. My hearing and smell are heightened to a state I have never experienced before. I am blind.

Suddenly, the thin waning crescent of the moon appears and my eyes are able to pick up a hint of light. What I see makes my blood run cold. I am standing in a small clearing in a forest and there are two very large, very red eyes looking at me from the brush on the other side. There is no body to go with those eyes yet but the sight of them makes my stomach tie into knots and every muscle in my body tense with fear.

It slowly takes a step out and I have to will my feet not to move and clench my jaw shut to avoid screaming. I know that if I scream, it will be on me in a second. Where that knowledge comes from, I can't remember. I lick my dry lips with my dry tongue as the animal emerges and my eyes widen in fear when the full form of the dog finally emerges. It is the biggest canine I have ever seen and I want to cry but find I am afraid to blur my vision with my tears and lose sight of my stalker.

His lips curl back in a snarl and I get the scent of blood in my nose. I can see the stains on its muzzle now and, as it moves closer, I am struck with the certainty that it is here to kill me. When it gets within mere feet of my position, my will breaks and I turn and run; crashing through the trees and bushes and cutting my skin deeply. I feel the sticks penetrating the soft bottom of my feet but I cannot take the time to care. I run like I have never run before in my life. I can hear the dog's feet as they pound the Earth behind me and I can  imagine its breath on the back of my neck.

I want to stop and throw up. My stomach feels like it is going to explode and my legs feel numb and detached from my body. I am breathing hard and fast from my panic and know that I will pass out soon if I am not careful; but I can't stop. I must keep running until the animal gives up. I know this as surely as I know my name is Bonnie; but I can't remember anything else.

I look back for a moment to see where my pursuer is and realize my mistake too late. In the dark, I don't see the end of the ground until I'm falling. I feel my hair whipping up and around my face for a moment and I think, "This is how I am going to die." but I slam into the ground a moment later and the sound of my bones snapping throughout my body sounds alien. I am lying on my back and cannot move but can see the place where I began my decent. As I stare, the dog leaps off the edge with no fear and lands, snarling, a few feet from me.

As he turns and looks at me, I allow my tears to flow at last. When he finally lunges for my throat, I feel a fear that I have never felt before...

The fear of death.

THE END - Literally!

I plan to crack out three chapters this week, my daily goal is 6,000 words. I need to finish by the end of March to hit my no-later-than-June release date.

Temujin, Jamuka, and Borte are about to have some tension and this is about to get real. I hope you all enjoyed my lil story above and that it made you cringe for a moment in this early morning light.

Now that I am all warmed up, time to write some book!!

Until next time, WRITE ON!!

Jo

Book Festivals are Amazing

Well, Savannah was beautiful but the best part about it was the person I was with. I don't think I would have enjoyed my time in that city nearly as much without him by my side. It is rare to find someone who enjoys the same things you do but, once in your life, you will meet someone with whom you can enjoy all of the things that you both love and even be introduced to some new things you never knew you loved via the association. IF you ever do, you should hold on with both hands like your life depends on it. If you find one and lose them and then find another, you should count yourself VERY lucky.

On to the events: We went to an amazing restaurant, took a walking tour of Savannah architecture (amazing), went to St. John's church (he is catholic so this is a HUGE deal for him), listened to Lulu Powers speak about her book From Food to Flowers (I am one of those people that loves cookbooks), and listened to some wonderful live music while holding hands and canoodling. I have never enjoyed myself more.

While I didn't get to meet Mr. Stephen King (the event was sold out), Ms. Lulu was interesting and I got a look into the success story of a chef who published a book. She was very forward about not being a writer and I began to wonder how many passions you could put into a book. I have discovered there are many:

1. Poetry
2. Photography
3. Cooking
4. Storytelling
5. Business
6. Art
7. Travel
8. Nonsense
9. Love
10. Despair
11. Poverty
12. Historical Events
13. Self

and so many more! Too many to list! I realized that, no matter what your passion is, there is a book in you somewhere. You just have to find your genre and make it happen.

I have had so many stories in me my whole life, I have always written. While art, photography, and cooking ARE passions, writing fiction is what I was born to do. I think good writers can be trained but I think GREAT writers are BORN and just have to take the time to master their craft.

I am off to continue the story that my heart wants to tell. I cannot help but model Temujin after my boyfriend and the love he has for Borte is the love I hope he has for me; it IS the love I have for him and it drives much of my tale.

I hope you are all blessed as I have been but I don't find it likely. What I have found is rare, beautiful, and made of the stuff you usually only read about...

Until next time, WRITE ON!!!

Jo

Loss

We all know how it feels to lose something we truly love. Here it is in short story form:

Ginger met the man of her dreams and fell head-over-heels in love with him. She had been in love before, but it was never quite like this and, over time, that love didn't fade but grew stronger until her very life force was connected to it. Every waking moment, she felt like she could fly because of this wonderful man who had somehow managed to steal every ounce of her heart; which she thought she had protected so well.

Through her life, Ginger had never been privy to caring on the level that she believed this man cared for her and it excited her, broke down her walls like they were made of butter, and made her feel she was worth something. She decided that she would move mountains for this man if he asked her to because her goal was to make him as happy as he had made her. Every day, she worked toward that goal. Some days were easier than others because of the dynamics of the relationship but she never gave up and pledged that she would love him through whatever life threw their way.

Then, one day, he said that he could no longer struggle with her and that she should move on and find someone else. Her heart stopped beating in that moment and tears filled her eyes as pain shot through her body from her chest outward. She denied it at first, thinking that he couldn't possibly mean what he was saying; she thought the strength of her love would be enough to carry them through a hurricane. Yes, she had done some things she wasn't proud of but thought that because she had never betrayed him, it wouldn't matter after a time. She was wrong. They did matter.

When the realization that he was gone overtook her, the pain in her entire body was one that was so intense, so completely overwhelming, that she screamed. It was the only way she knew to keep from falling down and dying in that moment. She began to shiver, though it was not cold in the room. Tremors wracked her body and she lay down on the floor, wept, and allowed herself to shake with them uncontrollably. When she had cried all that she could, she knew not what to do so she just laid on the floor and stared into space. She felt like she had no heart, no soul, and no way to think clearly; she may not ever again. Those things had been ripped from her body and shredded.

She began to question herself and wonder if she didn't do enough for him, if she wasn't good enough for him, and if he ever really cared in the first place. Surely he did, she wasn't that stupid... or was she? Why did she allow this man so close to her heart? Why did she give him her total trust and not question his motives? After all, he hadn't given her his. But she did and she was glad she did because she knew that if she hadn't, she wouldn't really have been trying; but she did try. She put every ounce of herself into him and hoped it would be enough. As she lay shivering on the floor and crying until her eyes swelled shut and she could not rise, she knew that she wasn't the one he wanted and the realization made her want to die.

Hours later, when Ginger finally managed to crawl to her bed and slide under the covers that smelled just like him, she passed out from the grief of her loss. Her body simply couldn't take it and her brain could not process that she would never again feel the warmth of his hand, the touch of his lips, or the safety of his arms. She had no dreams that she could remember but woke up with a hole where her heart used to be and no feeling in any part of her body. She remembered when she bounced out of bed on wings of love - was that just yesterday? - and lay for a time crying again for her loss. She knew that she had disappointed him and wished she was a better person, a better lover, and a better friend when he needed it.

She remembered looking into his eyes and thinking she could see his soul, feeling his arms around her when she was upset or scared, and not being able to picture her life without him in it. Her future was suddenly blank and she felt the loss that much more intensely. She knew she would never leave the house again because if she ever saw him on the street or with someone else, she would die a thousand deaths and feel this pain all over again. She knew that seeing him happy with someone else, when she had tried so hard and failed, would make her feel like dirt. She knew that she would not be able to handle it and knew that she would do whatever she had to in order to circumvent that encounter. If that meant never seeing the light of day again, she knew she would endure it because the alternative was too horrifying to think about.

Her heart was broken and she knew she would never love like that again, just as she had never loved like that before. He was her once-in-a-lifetime and, in her heart, was irreplaceable. She knew she had loved ones that cared for her and would always be there but she was irrevocably changed by the event and would never be the same without him. Cold and dead and hating life, she had no choice but to rise and tend to her appointments; her heart heavy, her eyes wet, and her hands shaking.

They say time heals all wounds and she prays that it's true because she knows she cannot live long with this pain; this excruciating, all encompassing pain. She decides that she will never love again because as long as her heart is closed forevermore, no one can rip it out and re-open the hole that will be in her chest for the rest of her life.

~ The End

Above is what I deem to be true love and true loss. Have you ever felt that way?

I managed almost six thousand words yesterday and they flowed well. Chapter 17 is underway.

I hope you all connected in some way with the story above because, if you did, you have known what it is like to really love someone. Even through the pain of your loss, you love them. You will always have a giant place in your heart that only they touched and, even though it hurts like hell and is forever empty when they leave, you at least knew what it was like to see the sunrise in someone's face and feel the warmth when you looked into their eyes.

Until next time, write on!

Jo