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Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 7, 2023

IWSG: June 2023

 


Welcome to the Insecure Writer's Support Group. IWSG is the brainchild of Ninja Captain Alex J. Cavanaugh.

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds! Thanks, Alex, for starting this group and keeping it going. We are rockin' the neurotic writing world.

The awesome co-hosts for the June 7 posting of the IWSG are Patrcia Josephine, Diedre Knight, Olga Godim, J. Lenni Dorner, and Cathrina Constantine!

Optional question: If you ever did stop writing, what would you replace it with?

That is a thought-provoking question. If I answer it, will I be admitting that I would quit writing? Since I haven't written anything this past month, does that mean I've stopped? I like to think I haven't given up. That I will continue writing.

I hope you all have a good month, one that is filled with ideas and inspiration. 

Click here to find others on the Insecure Writers Support Group Blog Hop. Or go to IWSG on Facebook to see who’s blogging today. 



Wednesday, May 3, 2023

IWSG: Inspiration


Welcome to the Insecure Writer's Support Group. IWSG is the brainchild of Ninja Captain 
Alex J. Cavanaugh.

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds! Thanks, Alex, for starting this group and keeping it going. We are rockin' the neurotic writing world.


The awesome co-hosts for the May 3 posting of the IWSG are Joylene Nowell Butler, Ronel Janse van Vuuren, Meka James, Victoria Marie Lees, and M Louise Barbour!

In the May newsletter, it says I’m one of the cohosts. I had to beg off. My computer—you know the I had to buy in January—is in for repair (bad network card) so I’m using hunt and peck on my iPad. Slow. Slow. Slow. I have been having the worst time with electronics.

When you are working on a story, what inspires you?

Sometimes it’s music, especially without lyrics. Music can put me in the mood. Books and movies in my genre help. I’m looking forward to reading what helps others. 

Hopefully I’ll get my computer back soon so I can visit you all  


Hope you have a great writing month.


Click here to find others on the Insecure Writers Support Group Blog Hop. Or go to IWSG on Facebook to see who’s blogging today. 




Monday, August 13, 2012

The Olympic Games, Dreams and Inspirations


Did you OD on the Olympics? With practically round-the-clock coverage, I wouldn’t be surprised. Two very intense weeks came to an end last night with more than a bang. Fireworks, lights displays, special effects and—my favorite part—music. What a spectacle. The opening ceremony wasn’t too shabby, either.

In between the two spectacular events was the real reason for staying glued to our televisions—the games themselves. We watched each country’s best-of-the-best compete. We watched them fail, pick themselves up and try again. We watched dreams realized and dreams shattered. No matter what the outcome, all of those athletes can proudly say they achieved their dream. They are Olympians.

I enjoyed the background stories of the athletes as much or more than watching the competitions. Maybe it’s the writer’s curiosity or maybe I’m just nosy. Some athletes come from privileged backgrounds where money for training was no object. For others, though, their families had little yet managed. All families made sacrifices whether it was money or time to help make their children’s dreams a reality. For some athletes, there was no family support. Kids who ran the streets until someone who showed them there was more to life, someone who gave them hope that they could make a better life for themselves than crime and poverty.

The dedication of the athletes never ceases to amaze me. They give up having a “normal” life for their sport. To be competitive, to be the best, they train all the time. What sacrifices they have made. Some will continue to make those sacrifices to return in four years to compete again. For others, this was their only shot. Imagine being too old to compete at twenty-one. What I found both amazing and upsetting were the injuries those athletes incurred and continued competing—torn hamstrings and ACLs, broken bones. Amazed at the dedication and perseverance; upset as a mother that they could cripple themselves for life. Nothing mattered except the goal—to be the best.

I can’t imagine a greater inspiration for all of us, no matter what our dream. Dreams take dedication, determination, time, sacrifice. Dreams take setting goals and striving to meet them. People who learn that I’m a writer often say they wish they could write a book. Or, they have so many ideas maybe they’ll write a book someday—when they have time. Wishes and maybes don’t cut it. We never have time. We make time. We give up things—often things we enjoy—to make our dreams come true. There are always setbacks, always failures along the way. The athletes didn’t get to the Olympics without setbacks, without failures, without mistakes. They didn’t quit. They learned from the mistakes, from the failures. To become a world class gymnast, swimmer, runner, they focused on their goal and did everything they could to achieve it.
 

When the games are over, the ceremonies ended, the athletes who came to London can say I gave it my best shot. I did the best I could. Can we say the same about our own dreams?







Tomorrow, Aug. 14th, I’ll be over at You Gotta Read Reviews. Please stop by and say hi.

On Thursday, my guest is Michigan author Lucy Kubash. I hope you’ll come back here to meet her.

Monday, June 25, 2012

In the Zone


Have you ever read a book you couldn't put down? One you read way into the night. You know the kind. You say to yourself "I'll just read one more page and then turn out the light." Then, it's "I'll just finish this chapter" and the darn author hooks you with the last sentence of the chapter and forces you to turn the page just to see what happens next. That's happened so many times to me. I love those books even when I regret the loss of sleep. The worst was when I would read until four-thirty and have to get up at six. Almost wasn't worth trying to sleep.

I had that same experience this weekend writing. Weird, huh? I've had good writing days before. Days when the Muse was sitting on my shoulder, whispering great stuff in my ear. More often than not, she would sit there for an hour (if that) then take off for Florida or Phoenix—anywhere but on my shoulder here in Michigan. I would keep writing, hoping she'd quit fooling around with another writer and return. Sometimes, she did. Sometimes . . . well you get the idea.

I don't know what happened Friday (and Saturday and Sunday), but it was marvelous. The words flowed. No, more like gushed—sentences, whole pages, chapters. Short chapters but still . . . The rush, the exhilaration, the feeling that the book was practically writing itself. And it was even going in the direction I wanted. I finally understood what athletes mean by being in the zone.

To get the picture, you should know I'm writing the conclusion of the Switched books. I know these characters. They've been in two books already. Some of the secondary characters, and the villain, have been steadily revealing themselves. After some brainstorming with my critique partner back in April, I had a good idea how to get the story from where it ended in Switched, Too to where I wanted everything to wrap up. I've been steadily writing ever since. Some days, it was like slogging through a marsh, but I persevered. I set things in motion, laid the groundwork, all of which takes time. I'm not in a rush. Apparently, my Muse decided I needed a kick in the rear.

On Friday, the words started coming. My fingers could hardly keep up. What a great feeling. Wasn't going to last but I was enjoying it. My husband dragged me to the fitness club (as he does almost every morning) and I couldn't wait to get back to the keyboard. After lunch, he asked if I wanted to do something (code for he wanted to get out of the house). I said no, don't bother me. I was a little politer—is that a word?—than that and I kept writing. At bedtime, I thought wasn't that a great day? Won't happen again, but wasn't it great? On Saturday, I did my usual—grab a cup of coffee from the Keurig, settle in the recliner with the laptop and, holy smoke, the Muse was back. When patient husband asked again if I wanted to go someplace, I said give me a half hour. Then, it was an hour later and I was still writing. "What's for dinner?" "Give me a half hour and I'll think of something." Another hour passed and he was putting hamburgers on the grill and would I please make a salad? I wanted to help with dinner. Really, I did. I was about to tear myself away but the bad guys were just . . . Oh, hamburgers are ready? Right. Salad.

Sunday was a repeat. Write and write and . . . "Honey, do you want to do something?" "Okay, but I'm in a really good spot. How about a half hour?" Then, I had to really consider what I was doing. He is awfully patient and understanding. But I really wanted to write one more paragraph, one more page, just another chapter . . . No, I needed to drag myself off the starship Freedom and return to real life. But, darn it. I was so afraid the Muse wouldn't return. That she'd say "Nuts to you. I gave you your chance." Still, I couldn't let my real-life hero think my fictional people were more important than him.

When I look at what I accomplished this weekend, I'm amazed. Oh, sure, the story is still in rough draft. All the pages I wrote will need some editing, tweaking, even downright revising. Today when I read it over, it may suck. But if I had such a great time writing, doesn't that mean the reader will, too? Will my rush to move the story along translate to a page turner for the reader? I fervently hope so. Will the Muse be back or will she decide to take a vacation in Bermuda?

Whichever way it goes today, that feeling of being in the zone sure was good while it lasted.

Have you ever felt that way?

Monday, May 21, 2012

Guest Teresa Blue


My special guest today is author Teresa Blue whose first novel just debuted. Here's the blurb:

Travis Howland washes up on the shores of Lost Isle and into the arms of an angel. Known as the Night Bird, Emma Samson dedicates her afterlife to a solitary existence on Lost Isle, easing the passage of the dying. When she finds Travis weak and desperate, she gives him the only gift she has—a few more days to settle his affairs before his death. Sorely lacking in faith, Travis lives life with no thought for the future. When his lovely rescuer claims he has died, he can't believe it. He must warn his father that their ship was plundered by a greedy business partner, but only a leap of faith can save him. Together, Emma and Travis use his last few hours to avenge the traitorous deeds that torment him, and along the way discover that love can be found in any stage of life…even after death.

Welcome, Teresa. You must be very excited about seeing your first book published. How did it come about?

     The story Night Bird came after listening to a CD I purchased by Eva Cassidy that had a song with the same title. Eva’s sultry voice and haunting melody sent my imagination spinning. The song’s about a woman in some hotel room in Memphis, alone and one night she found a man on the streets who would surely die, so she took him in…and taught him how to fly. ‘Is the moonlight just a place, for his memory, now he’s gone.’ Sigh . . .  It’s a lovely song and I could listen over and over.

Tell us about your writing journey.

     I’ve always had my nose buried in a book and when I moved to California, I read from sun-up to sun-down. Anaheim is a big place and not knowing many people, my salvation came in the form of those wonderful characters found tucked between the pages of romance books. I devoured each monthly Doubleday book club selection, waiting impatiently for the next shipment. Later, once my kids were big enough to go to school, I picked up a pen and tried writing as a hobby, hoping to clear the voices in my head.
     In 1999 after reading a novel called, The Charm School, I wrote a fan letter to the author, Susan Wiggs. She actually wrote back and told me about RWA. I joined the local Mid-Michigan chapter and penned my first novel.
     The ink was barely dry in 2001 when I came home from a writer’s retreat, (a weekend filled with informative workshops- I think that year we had Deb Dixon) and a special guest, editor Linda Kichline, who actually requested my full manuscript, Dark Desire.
     The ride home was full of chatter as we (Annette, Jeanette & I) processed all we’d learned those two lesson packed days. And I’ll never forget turning into the drive and wondering where all the water was coming from. It ran down the gravel drive in ripples, pooling along the roadside. Because our house sits back in the woods, it wasn’t visible until reaching the top of the hill. People I’d never seen before stood scattered in the yard watching the charred remains of my house crackle and burn. The fireman said it probably took a matter of twenty or thirty minutes and everything I owned was gone. Poof! My family, thank God, was safe, and even my dog although I’ve never seen him look so sad.
     It took several minutes to sink in as I crawled out of the car. I no longer had a manuscript, my backup files were toast. Worse, I didn’t even have a home! My husband came up and reassured me we’d be fine. We had great insurance. Nice try…but I bawled like a baby.
     It took an entire year to build the new house and in the meantime try and return some order in my life. Determined not to lose sight of my dream, the first thing I did was buy a laptop. I would write (at least keep lists) of stuff I wanted to remember, and outlining the destroyed manuscript made me feel as if I were still in the game, so to speak, pursuing my desire to write. Although I may never rewrite that particular story, I do have an outline for it.  :-)

I remember that time and how devastated we all (your chapter mates) felt for you. I've always admired your strength in returning to writing after that disaster. Now, tell us about Night Bird.

     I love new beginnings. There so much to look forward to. The beginning of anything always raises my heartbeat and gets me thinking. What if . . .  Or, do you suppose . . .  The fun part of being a writer is the ability to play with all of those possibilities.
     Let’s suppose someone’s foot did accidentally hit the blasted gas knob, turning it on, like in The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, and Captain Greg wasn’t ready to leave this life yet? Is there really a pull to the other side or is it a process, (sort of a beginning) that requires a few steps into the next phase?
     My story Night Bird is such a journey. Travis faces all this and more. The suddenness of his death has left him unprepared. But, Travis needs someone to guide him through the last final hours until he’s ready to cross into the next realm. That’s Emma, the Night Bird.

It appears that Emma is a ghost, an angel, or something more. I'm not telling. LOL The reader gets to figure it out. Is this your first venture into paranormal romance?

     No. Dark Desire was a paranormal. That story line had a female vampire who had been beaten and tossed out in alley to die with sunrise. She was desperate and my hero just happened to be in the wrong place. That first sip changed both their lives.

Sounds intriguing. What advice would you give an aspiring writer?

     Create the stories living in your head, and enjoy the journey crafting folks and universes unknown to the rest of the world. Something only YOU can build. It’s your voice and your strokes that turn the blank pages into something memorable to share with the rest of us. Don’t lose your power. Only YOU can write the book of your heart.

Great advice. Something even those of us who've been at it for a while can take to heart. All right then, what's next for Teresa Blue?

     I’m tickled to say that I’ve signed a contract with a new ebook publisher Crimson Romance, a project from Adams Media, the non-fiction publisher who delivered such books as Why Men Love Bitches (an excellent book for story characterization) and the Cup of Comfort series. I discovered a great page on their website aimed at writing: story middles, dialogue, titles and beginning a story. http://www.adamsmedia.com/cup-of-comfort
     Jennifer Lawler is the editor in charge of the romance line and has been very welcoming. And she’s actively seeking new authors. Although Crimson Romance is primarily an ebook distributor, there will be a POD (print on demand) version for those who want a paper copy.

That is marvelous news, Teresa. I'm so glad you shared it with us. It's been great having you here as your debut book launches. I thoroughly enjoyed your book, Night Bird. I'm so glad you stopped by to share some of it with us.

     You’ve done a great job of introducing me, Diane! And I’m honored to be your guest here today. Thank you so much.

You're very welcome. Teresa Blue can be found at

As a special treat, here's an excerpt from Night Bird:

    “Tell me, exactly what has transpired these last few days to change me from a man to a…monster?” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Explain, damn you!”
     Emma watched the fleeting emotions score his face, understood his shocking disbelief at what he’d been told. “I told you. You have died, to put it frankly.” And then more gently, she said, “Upon the beach. I found you and transformed you.”
     She cast him a shrewd glance as she chewed on her bottom lip and waited for more—anger, tears, something to convince her he believed. Except for the rapid swell of his chest, there was none. Usually those chosen were willing, even eager, to make the deal. Typically, the lives she’d encountered were desperate enough to agree to anything if it granted them precious time to make things right before their demise. But since there’d been no time to gain Travis’s permission, she’d acted on instinct.
     Maybe she’d been wrong.

Night Bird is available at Amazon.com


Monday, April 9, 2012

A Writer's Struggle


            I read a blog last Friday that really resonated. Robin LaFevers wrote The Writer’s Life is Full of Second Chances (or: Abandon Despair, All Ye Who Enter Here) on Writer Unboxed (a great blog, BTW). There was one line that made such an impression I had to share it. She said, "Just as we must dance as if no one is watching, we must write as if no one is reading."

            It's about taking chances, writing that novel for yourself, writing what you love (the book of your heart), even if you believe there is no market, that no publisher will ever take a chance on it. So, why did the blog make such an impact on me? I write futuristics. Not hard science fiction, more space adventure. Not a high-volume market. But that isn’t why I felt such a connection to LaFevers’ blog post. It was the part about second chances.

            There was a time when my writing took a back seat to what was happening in my life. Still, I kept at it. Sort of. Then, writing was shoved into the trunk. I carried it around with me, thought about it, but didn’t do much. Then, writing was moved to the garage and finally stuck in the basement. Out of sight, out of mind. I had no energy left to even think about my stories. When “life” returned to normal, I had the time to write and discovered another truism—use it or lose it. I’d lost that creative spirit. The muse said bye-bye and I never noticed. (I guess she got tired of being ignored and went to inspire someone who appreciated her—like Suzanne Collins, J.K. Rolling, or the above-mentioned Robin LaFevers.)

            It took a while but my creative energy came back. I issued an e-version of Switched, finished the sequel (which will be released shortly), wrote a YA futuristic, began a detective series, and I write this blog each week. How did I persuade the muse to return? I told myself to forget the career. I remembered the fun I had writing stories with my best friend in high school. We only shared them with each other. No turning them in for a grade in English class, no sending them to a magazine editor for publication. We wrote because it was fun. So that’s what I did to rediscover my spirit. I wrote for myself. It was very liberating. The enjoyment came back.

            Throughout that difficult time, there must have been a tiny part of me that still hoped I wouldn’t be a one-book wonder. I never completely left the business. I kept up my membership in Romance Writers of America and my local chapter, but I rarely read trade magazines, ignored most of the writer loops, and pretty much went silent on the remaining ones. I hardly ever attended meetings. But when I did, I got kicks in the pants from writer friends about not giving up. Slowly, the desire to share what I wrote returned. Writing what I enjoyed was the key. That and the admonition from Galaxy Quest, “never give up, never surrender”.

            I’m reminded of another movie quote, this time from Field of Dreams. “If you build it, they will come.” It certainly has for Robin LaFevers with her teen assassin nun in Grave Mercy. Doesn't that premise sound intriguing? It's definitely on my to-read list.

            Time will tell if this is my second chance. In the meantime, I’m still writing. I’m still having fun.