Please enjoy this guest post by Melissa McPhail, author of the spellbinding epic fantasy, Cephrael’s Hand. Then read on to learn how you can win huge prizes as part of this blog tour, including a Kindle Fire, $450 in Amazon gift cards, and 5 autographed copies of the book.  One of the most enticing aspects of writing fantasy is developing a magic system. The author’s magic system is inextricably woven into their world and contributes greatly to the reader’s vision of the world overall. The way a system is created either makes the world seem real or unreal, depending on how well the author has grounded the system with laws and limitations.
For example, scientists in our own world have defined laws—inertia, gravity, the periodic table—that describe the physical limitations and properties of energy. We don’t expect a stone to rise upwards when we throw it, but we might believe it could float if it were somehow made of helium. Likewise in a fantasy world, it’s important to codify the system with laws and rules (and to stick to those rules once established), to set boundaries for what the magician can and cannot do with magic, and to establish consequences for and ramifications of magical misuse. This all shows that magic systems require significant thought and research on the author’s part to develop realistically. Yet for all of this, the manner in which one might design and describe the magical process is potentially limitless—there are as many magical systems as there are fantasy novels, and equally as many readers eager to pontificate on their pros and cons and/or to organize the systems into categories and types. The one thing most magic systems have in common, however, is that they all handle energy. Whether that energy is spiritual, omnipotent, corporeal, or derives from physical objects or living things, the working of arcane arts surrounds the manipulation of energy. I designed the magic in Cephrael’s Hand based on scientists’ existing understanding of electrical fields. The process of thought has been scientifically proven to produce energy, and human bodies are known to generate electrical fields. For the magic in Alorin, I proposed that all living things produce a metaphysical energy which is formless but which flows across the world in natural currents. This energy is called elae. This is the energy a magician of Alorin uses to produce arcane workings. How he does this is the creative part. In Cephrael’s Hand, all things are formed of patterns. A single leaf derives its pattern from the larger pattern of its motherly oak. The snowflake harbors the pattern of a storm. Rivers form patterns that mimic the pattern of the world, and a living man harbors within him the pattern of his immortality. These inherent patterns collect and compel energy (elae) toward a certain purpose—growth, action, states of change. To compel energy, a magician of Alorin (called a wielder) must learn to first identify and then usurp control over the pattern of a thing in order to command it. This is a laborious process requiring a lifetime of study. Unlike wielders, the Adepts in Cephrael’s Hand are born with the ability to manipulate certain patterns. Adept Healers can see creation patterns (life patterns) and mend them where they’ve become frayed. Truthreaders can hear certain thoughts and read minds to see what a man saw versus what he says he saw. Nodefinders have the ability to move long distances with a single step by traveling on the pattern of the world. And Wildlings tap into a variant aspect of the lifeforce called elae to shapeshift or even skip through time, among other intriguing talents. The last type of Adept can sense the patterns of nonliving things—stone, air, water, fire, etc.—and use those patterns to compel the elements themselves. Adepts are limited by nature of their birth—they can only inherently work one category of patterns. They are limited by their training, their inherent intelligence, talent and ability. And of course, like us in real life, they are limited by their own vision of their capabilities. Above all of these limitations, we find Adepts limited by “Balance.” The concept of Balance draws from my studies of Eastern philosophies. It is the high governing force, the yen and yang, karma, cause and effect, fate. It’s as esoteric and arcane as these concepts imply. How far can the Balance be pushed in one direction without lashing back at the wielder? Which actions stretch it and which ones defy it? Balance is a complex and complicated subject—as difficult to define as our own world’s myriad competing religions. The only real agreement on the subject of Balance is that all magical workings stretch the Balance to some degree. Understanding how far they can be stretched without snapping is central to survival in the arcane arts. The concept of Balance provides, well, the “balancing” force to all magical workings in Cephrael’s Hand and is central to its plot. You see, the entire realm of Alorin is out of Balance and magic is dying—and the Adept race dies along with it. As part of this special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity, the price of the Cephrael’s Hand eBook edition is just 99 cents this week. What’s more, by purchasing this fantastic book at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes. The prizes include a Kindle Fire, $450 in Amazon gift cards, and 5 autographed copies of the book. All the info you need to win one of these amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment–easy to enter; easy to win! To win the prizes:
About Cephrael’s Hand: Two brothers find themselves on opposite sides of a great battle, neither knowing the other is alive… A traitor works in exile while preparing for the disaster only he knows is coming… A race of beings from beyond the fringe of the universe begin unmaking the world from within… And all across the land, magic is dying. Cephrael’s Hand is the first novel in the award-winning series A Pattern of Shadow and Light. Get it on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. About the author: Melissa McPhail is a classically trained pianist, violinist and composer, a Vinyasa yoga instructor, and an avid Fantasy reader. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, their twin daughters and two very large cats. Visit Melissa on her website, Twitter, Facebook, or GoodReads.
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 I have a teenage boy.
He just turned fourteen two weeks ago and I’m actually quite surprised he made it to his fourteenth birthday, because honestly, I wasn’t sure he would. He drives me nuts. I’ve been told it only gets worse too. One friend told me to just wait until he turns fifteen. That’s when I really won’t like him. She said not to worry, though, once he turns twenty-five I’ll like him better. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Here’s the thing with this kid—he’s a bugger at home, pushing his boundaries, super messy, and likes to argue just for the sake or arguing: Him: Why did you put milk on my cereal? Me: Because you like milk on your cereal? Him: What makes you think that? Me: Because you had milk on your cereal for breakfast yesterday. Him: That was yesterday. You just don’t know me at all. But outside our house, everyone LOVES him! They think he is the greatest kid ever. Now, don’t get me wrong, as far as teenagers go, he’s pretty good one, but he can be SOOO annoying too. At home, he’s rude. Outside our home (school, church, scouts, friends), he’s a real gem of a guy. He even helps pick up after himself. He’s been known to carry dishes to the sink. What the heck? At home, he picks on his younger brother and sister ALL THE TIME. Outside our home, little kids adore him. They think he’s amazing and cool. They high-five him (my kids scream at him to stop touching them). At home, he is demanding. Outside our home, he has manners. He has been known to say please and thank you. He holds open doors for people. At home, he sulks and mopes around as though nothing in this world will ever make him happy. Outside our home, he is a ball of joy. I am the mother of a teenage son, so this is my lot in lot in life for the next six or so years (so I’ve been told). I look at him and think, “Who in their right mind is ever going to want to marry my son? He’s going to live with us forever, isn’t he?” But I must say, that at least when he steps outside our door, he knows how to behave and be a good kid. That has to mean something. When I first started writing my book, I was excited. It was cute. It was new and fun. I loved watching it grow and develop—like a toddler. I put my heart and soul into it and shaped it into being. Now, it’s acting just like a teenager. I’m in the editing/revising phase and this book is being a pain in my backside. Filling in plot holes and tweaking has become excruciatingly painful, especially the ending. The ending is mocking me. I only have twenty more pages to edit and rewrite (I’ve come a long way) and yet, for the past several days, the ending simply won’t come together. It’s as if my book has become a lanky teenage boy who has thrown himself over the couch, his big size eleven feet flopped over the armrest, sleeping the afternoon away. I nudge him. Nothing. I nudge him again. I get a moan before he rolls over, his back to me. Me: Come on. We need to write. My Novel: Not now. Later. Me: No, I want to write now. It’s a good time. You’re not doing anything. My Novel: I am doing something. I’m sleeping. Me: You’re always sleeping. My Novel: Yeah, well, I like sleeping. Me: Are you going to help me or what? My Novel: Tomorrow. I’ll help you tomorrow, okay? I promise. Me: You promised me that same thing yesterday. My Novel: This time I mean it. (My novel flashes me a peace sign). It needs to get done, because there is no such thing as a novel without an ending. AND there is no way I’m allowing the crappy ending that is there to just sit and taunt me. The ending will be fixed. It has too. I can make it better. Then, and only then, when I send it out into the world, I will hope it behaves itself, reading the way I always envisioned it would. No one will ever know the love, patience, and long suffering that went into the making of my book. They will never know how much I agonized over it or how much I lost sleep over it. No one will ever know—which is a good thing. I only want them to see the good stuff. Leave a comment and let me know how your novel is coming along? What roadblocks you’ve faced, what amazing hurdles you’ve jumped over. I’d love to know. Leave a comment and I’ll pop over and check out your site too.  I'm a writer. And I'm weird and neurotic. And if you're a writer, chances are, you're pretty weird and neurotic too.
Fight against it all you want, but it won't help. Even those writers on twitter and facebook with awesome looking photos, where they look all put together and not weird or neurotic looking, are pretty weird and neurotic. They're some of the worst. I know this for a fact because neurotic people tend to hang out with other neurotic people and those people just so happen to be my friends. I mean, let's break down the definition of neurosis shall we (Signs and Symptoms taken from Wikipedia): anxiety, sadness or depression, anger, irritability, mental confusion, low sense of self-worth, etc., behavioral symptoms such as phobic avoidance, vigilance, impulsive and compulsive acts, lethargy, etc., cognitive problems such as unpleasant or disturbing thoughts, repetition of thoughts and obsession, habitual fantasizing, negativity and cynicism, etc. Interpersonally neurosis involves dependency, aggressiveness, perfectionism, schizoid isolation, socio-culturally inappropriate behaviors, etc. Anxiety? What writer out there doesn't feel anxious. What if I say the words QUERY LETTER--don't tell me your heart didn't skip a beat or two. Now top that off with the revision process, waiting for feedback from critique partners, beta readers, your agent or editor. That's a whole lot of anxiety right there. Do they like it? Do they hate it? Do I suck? I suck, don't I? I knew it. I knew it! Sadness of depression? We've all been there, probably several times over. The rejection process itself can place me in a funk for days. The whole road to publication is a wild up and down roller coaster ride. I've been up, real high up there--my novel on the desks of editors at major publishing houses--only to be dropped real low--when my agent decided to quit the literary business. Talk about depression. Mental Confusion? Where do I go from here? Give up? Keep going? Should I self-publish or trudge back up the hill of traditional publishing one more time? Am I even any good at this? There are SOOOO many writers out there, how in the world am I to even compete? Should I even bother? I'm so confused. Lethargy? What writer hasn't been lethargic at one time or another. Crap, I feel lethargic right now. I sit at a laptop for hours. Sometimes I can even write a sentence or two. Most of the time I just look comatose. I've even bought a fancy pair of exercise clothes to use as pjs so that when someone shows up at my door at three in the afternoon and I haven't bothered to dress or shower, I can at least pretend I look like I've been productive. Habitual Fantasizing? Okay, I think this shouldn't be a sign or symptom for writers. So ignore this one. We are writers, for heavens sake! We fantasize ALL DAY LONG. It's called using our imaginations and creating new worlds. So this part of neurosis I embrace. Fantasizing is awesome. Negativity and cynicism? Many times it's hard to remember the great aspects of being a writer and why we do it--for the love, because we're compelled too. It's easy to think of EVERYTHING that holds us back from achieving our dreams, everything that stands in the way, the statistics of successful authors to that of authors who publish but never sell more than a handful of copies of their novel; book stores closing; publishing houses not buying anything; agents quitting. I have my share of cynical days. Crud, all I have to do is pop on twitter for a couple of hours and see all the writers trying for publication just like me and I become a cynical cuss. Competition is tough and the window of opportunity small. Glass half empty, folks. Been there, done that. Perfectionism? This is the part of my neurosis that just about does me in. I could edit forever and ever and ever. I could never publish a thing because I know myself. I know my work has to be as close to perfect as can be. I also know that perfection could never be achieved, yet I will always strive for it. I get hung up on scenes in my writing that need revised and I can't push past it until I do. Perfection cripples me. All I know, is that every writer who is hoping to get their work into the hands of readers who will enjoy their words is a basket case. From the time of conception, our novels weighs on our mind, our characters sit perched on our shoulders, shouting out stage directions and plot design. You sleep, eat, breathe your novel, every minute of nearly every day. Even when it looks as though you're doing nothing but staring at a blank computer screen, or look as though you're actually listening to your significant others words, you are writing--in your head. Plot holes plague you to the point of insanity. Stupid plot holes! If only you had a moment of silence, you're CERTAIN the answer would come to you. You're positive. Just give it a second. Don't talk to me while I think. AND to top it all off, as a writer, you never know if what you write straddles genius or stupidity. If someone says you're a genius, you think them a liar. If someone calls your work stupid, you think they're too dumb to know anything. Bunch of idiots. I know I'm neurotic. I get it. I woke up last night at three am to write on my zombie book and fix a section that I worried I would completely forget once morning came. Then I woke up this morning, looked at it and thought, "What the heck? Who wrote this crap?" I could sit at my laptop, all day, writing and hanging out with my characters and be a very happy person (fictional friends galore). I like caffeine and lots of it. Multicolored sticky notes, in various sizes, makes me giddy. When my copies of The Writer or the Writers Digest come in the mail, all life stops until I have read them from cover to cover. I can go days without cleaning when I'm writing a rather emotional scene and showering . . . ha,ha,ha, forget it. When I hurt a character I love, it really pains me. My novel Desert Rice really caused me emotional strife--I hurt my characters a lot--and I had a hard time separating myself. I think I even cried a couple of times. I don't think non-neurotic people cry over fictional people. I probably should take medicine. I mean, I meet a lot of the signs and symptoms of a neurotic person. Anyone else who wasn't a writer who suffered from the above would be on meds. But if I took medication to ease my anxiety or lessen my need to be perfect, I risk the possibility of losing the little voices in my head that compels me forward. I love my voices. AND, I may do something stupid such as self-publish a piece of my dribble before ensuring my grammar is in check and all plot points have been completely covered. That would be horrible. Shivers. Ahh, maybe being neurotic is a good thing. Maybe, as writers, we need to be somewhat neurotic to be successful. I'd like to think so anyway. What do you think? Do you embrace your neurosis? If you do, then let's totally be friends :) BFF's As you all know, I'm right dab in the middle of revising my zombie western romance called WANTED: Dead or Undead. The revisions are almost done too, and I have a really snazzy cover, designed by Author Creations, that I'll reveal at a later time. I'm excited. I am. This is the first novel in which I wrote something out of the norm (for me, anyway. I usually write contemporary stuff. For some of you, zombies are nothing, child's play). All my life, I've been pretty predictable, and so to step outside my comfort zone (which is writing contemporary YA and Adult novels) took some getting used to. I don't know the first thing about writing horror stories or cowboy westerns or even romance, and yet, I decided to combine all three and test myself. A pretty big gamble if I do say so. Will it work? I won't know until I put it out there for my beta readers to read, which will be soon. (I'll let you know what they say when the time comes). But still, to even tackle something so different, and love it, has to mean something. When I tell people I'm writing a zombie western romance, most people ask (my own mother included. I think she was wanting to find out what kind of a daughter she'd raised), "So you have a zombie romance set in the wild wild west?" (This is asked with brows raised and a hint of "you're odd" coating the words). No! Of course not! That's weird! Zombies in love with other zombies, or heaven forbid humans in love with zombies, that would be really, really weird! I made a remark on twitter about how such a thing would be strange and boy did people respond. I was sent this following Youtube clip by a follower (I like how they incorporated a whole heck of a lot of genres in this one): And this one (not for the squeamish, by the way): Then I was reminded about Fido (one zombie movie I thought brilliantly funny) and the zombie love that permeates this movie:  Regardless, I still think loving zombies in more than an admiration from afar kind of way, is odd. It would take a lot of guts (pun intended) to place a kiss on the rotting mouth of a zombie. All I know, is that should my husband, whom I love more than anything even after 17 years of marriage, become zombified, I will shoot him in the head. Maybe even twice. I'm not keeping him around, that's for sure. And I hope he would do the same for me.
So I do like zombies, but I have my limit folks. Zombie love-love is highly bizarre. The only romance going on in my book is between humans. The zombies are purely a device to bring the humans together--just the way I like my zombies, scary and a means to motivate the humans into taking action. How about you? How do you take your zombies--funny or scary? Leave a comment and let me know you've been here. I'll pop over to your place if you do. *This is a strange post. I realize this. Sorry.  I blame it all on summer. The thick, multilayer coating of dust covering my writing and my writer's brain is the result of a having a very, very nice summer vacation. Darn you summer!
Yes, summer has put a very big crimp in my writing time--so many places to go and see, so many fun things to do. How the heck am I supposed to find time for editing and writing? I knew that once the kiddos were out of school for the summer, it would be hard. I knew going to South Dakota for a week would be hard. I knew going camping in the wilderness (the real wilderness with real bears and real trees and did I mention real bears? . . . well, I can't mention the bear thing enough) would be hard. I just didn't realize it would be THIS hard. Here it is, almost August, and I have very little writing/editing done to show this summer. It's pathetic really. So sad. I mean, how exactly was I supposed to write in the wilderness? There wasn't exactly a current bush near by to plug into (and don't say use a notebook and a pencil because that is soooo passe--not gonna happen). And then, all that aside, it is a vacation after all. I'm supposed to be vacationing. With my family. Doing vacation type stuff. Okay, so I've let a couple of months slip by without really writing or doing anything writerly related. But, because I can't change that fact nor could I have done anything differently about it at the time, I have decided to embrace the dusty writing and accept it. It's okay. Breaks are not only needed sometimes, but can be a good thing as well. For instance, my family now knows what I look like without my pink laptop sitting on my lap. They are so used to me click-clacking away at my keyboard that they know nothing else. I actually went to a school function this past year where each of the second graders drew a family picture and had them on display in the hallway for people to look at. In my daughter's depiction of her family, there I was, holding my pink laptop, front and center. Awesome. Just awesome. Another good thing about stepping away from the laptop for awhile (besides building lasting memories and relationships with loved ones) is that I now feel somewhat refreshed and rejuvenated. I'm ready to edit once more. I'm ready to kick some WIP butt! Now that all my vacationing is done, and August is nearly here, I'm ready to get down to business. August will be better. My writing will be better. It will be okay--perhaps even better than okay. So, how is your summer fairing? Do anything fun? How do you balance summer fun and vacationing with your writing? I won't know you've been here unless you leave a comment.  We've all been told (by who EXACTLY, I'm not sure) that we are never, EVER supposed to discuss our querying statistics or how many rejections we've received.
We're supposed to be hush-hush about it. But not today, folks, not today. My reason for breaking the silence is because I really need to find out what the heck is going on? When I first started querying my YA manuscript Desert Rice back about a year ago, things we're happening on the agent front--I polished my query, sent it out, and within days (no kidding) I had a partial request and a full manuscript request. A few other requests came trickling in a little while later too. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), I was thrilled. More than trilled. Then, when that partial request turned into a full request and then the agent called me to discuss terms of her representing me, I was beyond excited. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face for days. Well, as is my life, things took a turn and it all went downhill from there. My agent submitted my manuscript to a few publishers who quickly rejected it. No one wanted it. Such depression. But on the bright side, so I kept telling myself, I still had an agent, right? Maybe she would be willing to take a look at a couple of other novels I had written and possibly represent those instead. Also, there was still one editor we hadn't heard back from. So maybe, just maybe. I quickly emailed her with high hopes, willing to take a chance. My fingers were crossed. The next day I received a devastating, yet lovely and encouraging at the same time, email back from her. This is what she said: Dear Angela, I haven't heard from the last editor yet. (We never did either--how rude) My news: I'm getting out of the literary agency business. It's just impossible to sell anything these days -- and will be getting worse as more bookstores close. So, I won't be accepting any new submissions. I want you to know, though, that I believe your work is exceptional and should be published. The business is in freefall, which is why so many terrific authors aren't getting offers. Best wishes, Ummm . . . that's not good. Not good at all. So after eight or so months working with this agent, she decided to quit. I was back to square one. What the heck was I supposed to do now? After a bout of depression, I dusted off my wounded soul and started querying once again--the same query letter that received bites and requests. I started that requerying process back in May, and as of to date, I've received zero requests. Zero. Nothing. Na-da. Zilch. But it isn't so much that I'm being rejected (I've received some, don't get me wrong), but I'm hearing NOTHING back. Not a word. I've heard from roughly 30% of the queries I've sent out. But the other 70% is complete silence. That is very weird in my opinion. Very weird. I'm not the only one either to experience this weirdness. Check out Creepy Query Girl, she discusses this same thing. What the heck is going on? If my query is simply not working, so be it. I can tweak it and move on. BUT the problem is that I know it works. It worked in the past. It worked to get me requests. It worked to get me an agent. It worked to get me through the first round in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest. It worked. So my question is this: Is it me? Or is it them? What's going on on the agent front? What about you guys, how has your querying experience been? Are you hearing back? Have you heard of anyone being picked up by an agent recently? Or is it time for me to hang up my querying hat until the publishing industry figures out how to fix the mess they're in?  Did someone say contest? Well, I'll be . . . I LOVE contests! Yes I do!
Brenda Drake is hosting Aunt B's Book Club Contest over at her site. You can check it out here or here for further details. But in essence, the contest will be judged by a group of teen girls who love to read YA. Teen girls--THAT'S MY INTENDED AUDIENCE. I write YA, so this sounds kinda great to me. And of course, what's a contest without prizes? There will be a prize consisting of a ten page manuscript critique plus synopsis critique by agent intern/editor/cover art designer/writer extraordinaire--Cassandra Marshall. That sounds pretty cool. A ten page critique and synopsis help would be very helpful. Yes it would. But before I email my entry, I would love to run it by you all to make sure it's at top notch performance--I don't want to look like a fool. That would suck. So take a look and tell me what you think. I can handle it. I'm tough (sorta). Okay, I'm having trouble deciding which one to do. So I'm posting both options, Desert Rice and Wanted: Dead or Undead. Let me know which one sound better. Thanks a bunch! Title: Desert Rice Genre: YA Contemporary Pitch (35 words or less): Samantha Jean Haggert isn’t thrilled with hiding the fact she’s a twelve-year-old girl, but her older brother, Jacob, will do anything to keep Sam safe from male attention and hidden from the law. Excerpt (250 words or less): “Grab ‘er feet!” Grabbing her feet meant I had to touch her and that was the last thing I wanted to do. “Don’t just stand there.” Jacob bent over and took hold of her by the shoulders. “I can’t do this on my own.” I shook my head. The stench was awful and it made me gag. Pulling the collar of my shirt over my nose barely diffused the smell. Jacob stood, put his hands on his hips and stared me down. “Sam, there’s no other way. You have to help me. Just grab ‘er feet so we can get this over with.” The idea of touching a dead body scared me and I shook my head once more. “So you want to leave her here?” He swung his arm wide. I flinched, but my brother wasn’t trying to hit me, only emphasize his point. He needed help, and there was no one else to give it to him but me—his little sister. “Where people can see and the wild dogs might get at her? Is that what you want?” No, I didn’t want that. Of course, I didn’t want that. I wasn’t that cruel, but I still didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t care that she was my momma. It frightened me. I’d never been this close to death before. What would it feel like to touch a dead person? Would she be as stiff as a board? What if the sheet fell off her face and I saw her staring right at me? OR Title: WANTED: Dead or Undead Genre: YA Western Romance with a bit of zombie mayhem for fun Pitch (35 words or less): To join “Red’s” posse, Trace has to agree to her terms: no names, no questions, and he must swear if he gets bit, he can’t cry or beg for mercy when she severs his brain stem. Excerpt (250 words or less): “What’s wrong with Pa?” No one had to tell her that something was seriously wrong. Elisabeth could see it, smell it, even taste it. The fetid air clung to her lips and tongue nearly gagging her. She swiped at her mouth with the back of her sleeve trying to erase it from her senses, but it was no use. Rot combined with a syrupy sweetness filled every inch in the small two-room cabin. “It’s nothing to worry about.” Her ma dipped the washcloth in the tin bowl and rung out the extra water before bathing her husband’s pallid face. “Go put your brothers back to bed, then fetch more water.” Elisabeth didn’t move from where she stood watching just outside the bedroom door. She couldn’t. She was too frightened, believing that if she left, for even a moment, death would seep through the cracks and take her father. Her younger brothers stood behind her, peering from behind her skirts, just as frightened as she was, but too afraid to move either. “Is he gonna die?” She didn’t want to ask, but looking at her pa contorted in pain and suffering in agony, she couldn’t imagine any other outcome but death. She almost willed it for him—almost. Kind of interesting that both stories start out with yucky smells--death and near death. Weird. So which one do you like better? Or do they both suck? Your help is much appreciated. Thanks in advance.  Here I am, trying to squeeze in a blog post or two before I’m off on another adventure next week. Oh, how summer vacations make blogging difficult—but they sure are fun, aren’t they? Last week, my family and I traveled to see Mt. Rushmore in good ol’ South Dakota. Now, before you guffaw at such a trip, (something I did when my husband first approached the subject--South Dakota? Seriously? Ahh, shoot me now) hear me out . . . I had a blast, and I learned something too, which normally I don’t like to have happen when it comes to vacations. Vacations are vacations. Not learning time. Learning = boring. But not so. Not anymore. For instance, did you know that President George Washington and President Thomas Jefferson hated each other? Did you know that? I sure didn’t (In fact, I had no idea what four presidents were even on the mountain—I didn’t care. History bores me). But guess what, folks? Both presidents are carved into stone, side by side. I’m sure they’re loving that. Just goes to show ya, have a dispassion for someone and they just might make a monument to you and your mortal enemy. Anyway, while in South Dakota we went gold panning and actually found gold (not enough to make us rich, but gold nonetheless) and garnets, tons of garnets. My kids LOVED it! We also went down a zip line (scary) and then we went on a lantern cave tour (super, super, super scary—not because of the dark, per se, but because we had to carry heated fire lanterns down these really steep, slick ladder/stair things, and we were told NOT to set down the lanterns under any circumstance, and I was CERTAIN I was going to die. I’m actually quite surprised I didn't). My kids loved this too. It was interesting but terrifying at the same time. We went to Cosmos, the Mystery House(check out Youtube video at the end--I have no idea who these people are. We were told not to videotape anything, but apparently people did, so I'm sharing it with you). For my kids though, they would say they loved the campground we stayed in best of all. Yes folks, I went camping. I hate camping. It’s dirty and messy and not fun. BUT, we stayed in a KOA cabin at the Mt. Rushmore KOA campground and let me tell ya, this was my kinda camping—pancake breakfast every morning cooked by the staff, water slides and water park for the kiddos, paddle boat and bike rentals, homemade fudge and ice cream, horseback riding, movie nights, live music, restaurant, big ol’ trampoline thing that a dozen people can jump on at a time, free mini golf, and a slew of games and various activities to keep a person busy for days. My husband joked that you could literally go to the Mt. Rushmore KOA, stay there a week and NEVER actually go see Mt. Rushmore, or anything else, for the matter, and STILL have an awesome vacation. That KOA was camping heaven. Highly recommend it. So now, I’m home for a few days before I head out again next week to do (you guessed it) more camping. This time it’s just me and not the family. They’ll be staying home. I’m a leader of youth in my area and next week is their annual camp time, in tents, in the mountains—ahh, my favorite thing. You know, even though it won’t be camping heaven, or anything like that, it will be fun. These kids are amazing and we will have a great time. I will miss my laptop though and my access to the internet (what will I do without twitter and email?). BUT, big but here, sometimes taking a break from tweeting, and email, and even writing (yes, folks, even writing) can bring you the needed boost you might be needing to put you back into the swing of things, to get your writing mojo back in line. For me, the break is a necessary evil. I hate being away from my laptop and all the work/writing I need to do. But, while away, I think out plot issues in my mind so that when I return to my laptop, I’m ready to attack it and get to work (hello, mojo). I’m ready. I really am. So after I write this blog post and in between mounds of stinky camping laundry, I will edit and edit and edit. I can’t wait. I really can’t. I’m actually excited about this. So, have any of you had a super fun vacation this summer? What do you do when you need to get your mojo back, and better yet, what do you do to survive being away from your laptop for any length of time?  I’m a sucker for a good deal. I’m always keeping my eyes peeled, searching for a bargain. My best deal ever, I’d have to say, was when I went to a local consignment shop and found a pair of super cool shorts for my teenage son, brand new with tags on sale for $3.00. Wow. But the really awesome part, I got the shorts home, handed them to my son to try on, and when he put his hand in the pocket he pulled out a $5.00 bill. Sweet! Part of this “Super Deal” process is hitting the local yard sales in my area. I love me some yard sales. Oh, boy, the fun stuff I have picked up for a dollar or two. Bargains, bargains, bargains. Well, this past Saturday, we woke up the clan and headed out to hit some sales. For the most part, many yards sales are crap. I REALLY hate it when they have these huge colorful signs that say, “Neighborhood Yard Sale” or “Multi-Family Yard Sale”, and then you show up and it’s a couple of people with one table and all their old clothes and dusty, dirty shoes laying on top. Totally false advertising. But, it’s part of the process—you have to weed through a lot of bad to get to the good. (Same thing goes for writing and reading). Now, let me tell you about the good. Wowzer, wow wow! We ended up at this estate sale in the town next to ours, and before I’d even seen what they had out for sale I was intrigued. I mean, this old house looked something along the lines of the one in the movie Zanthura—old, with lots of character and appeal. To get to it, you had to meander down this long winding driveway with orange poppies blooming on either side. There were trees, huge and draping. Perfect for an old wooden swing. Off to the left, in a weedy grove, sat a weathered picnic table and chair set. Take this house and then place it in the scene of like Bridge to Terabithia or The Spiderwick Chronicles and WAH-LA, you have an idea of what I was looking at. This house captivated me, and my mind whirled with creative possibilities. Also, I wanted to buy that house. I wanted it. I mean, how could it not be full of magical possibilities? It LOOKED magical. It had to have had an attic and a spooky cellar and doors that led to secret rooms and crap like that. Someday I will write a book with that house in it. I totally have a setting. Now I just need a story to go with it. Anyway, this yard sale was incredible too! Oh, my heck, all the cool old stuff they were selling. Treasures. Pure treasures. And they were practically giving this stuff away for nothing—antique desks and tables and the most amazing old pieces of furniture. But all that aside, I began to lose myself in the midst of these hidden pearls tucked away in cardboard boxes, things that probably had no monetary value whatsoever, but were interesting nonetheless. An older woman, who had owned the property, had recently died and her children were sorting her belongings, cleaning out the home that had housed decades and decades of memories. One box, contained 1950’s smelling soaps and perfumes, still in their boxes, unused. Another, had shoe boxes, I’m guessing from the 1960’s or so, of the same high heal shoe, but in various shades and colors. They looked nearly perfect too. One box held envelopes, dozens and dozens of envelopes all from Utah Power and Light Company (it hasn’t been called that for about forty years now) in which the company sent recipes to this older woman. Recipes? The electric company sent recipes? Weird, yet slightly cool. That’s interesting stuff right there. There were books and old records and vintage purses and clothes—a complete blast from the past. I did purchase a couple of things I found interesting or seemed to tell a story (see pictures below) and my husband went crazy buying all sorts of crap he plans to turn around and sell on eBay and make a small fortune. He bought an old pair of black salt and pepper shakers for a buck that were made in the 1930’s, very rare, and can probably sell for thirty dollars. We spent approximately $40 and will probably make well over $200. (Some items I’m keeping for me just because). So now I have a setting for a story. All I need is some characters and a plot. Where do your ideas come from? Do you start with characters first or settings? I think I normally start with a character and then go from there. This is weird for me to start with a setting. That story will have to wait, though. I have others on my plate that need attending to. Leave a comment. I’d love to hear where you get your inspiration. Next to bargains, I love comments (and people who leave them).  It's an old shoe shine kit. It's missing a few things, but still, it's really cool. I picked this up for $2.00. Can you just imagine the story behind this?  This old suitcase even had part of a traveling tag on it from the railway. Look at the old key dangling from the case, the buckles, the hardware. I wonder who used it and where they went.  Look at this amazing book! "An Old Fashioned Girl" and do you see who it is written by...way down near the bottom...Louisa May Alcott, the lady who wrote "Little Women." It doesn't have a copyright page, but it does have an inscription in the front saying, "Presented to Edith from her teacher xmas 1900."  Cute little children's suitcases. I know they're not as old as some of the other items, but they still had a unique look to them that I couldn't resist. They are each made out of stitched together cardboard and they're in perfect condition.  Here they are, just few of the old cook books I picked up for a quarter (I have a whole stack--why, I don't know. I hate cooking). But notice the blue one on the left with the band on the cover? That's the holiday cookbook from Utah Power & Light Co. I should have grabbed more. I could kick myself for not grabbing that old lady's mail with all those recipes in them. Oh, and now I have a cookbook that tells me how 300 ways to cook an egg. I thought there was only one way--scrambled. The best writing advice EVER...I mean it. It's pure genius. (Please no snorts or chuckles).6/5/2011  Photo by smoo 1) Narrative is so much better than dialogue.
2) Adverbs are absolutely essential. 3) Using the tag “said” to carry dialogue is boring. Spruce it up a little by using words like grumbled, declared, cried or gasped. 4) If you must use the word “said” then by all means pair it up with an adverb—“Harold said, sadly.” Now the reader knows for certain that Harold is unhappy. 5) Readers are dumb. They are unable to infer a single thing. Spell it out clearly. If you're still uncertain that your reader gets the gist of what is taking place, then by all means, write it again. You may have to write it several times to ensure that the concept has been thoroughly explored and explained—“Harold said, sadly. The tear sliding down his cheek proved his unhappiness. He cried a little more. He had never been so unhappy in all his life.” 6) Exclamations should be used often! They are the visual signs of excitement and thrill! The proper rule of thumb is at least one exclamation point per page but no more than ten. Double exclamations or exclamations paired with a question mark are AWESOME!! 7) When using dialogue, infuse it with a thick coat of regional dialect. 8) Obviously, words are a writer’s paintbrush. A writer can never use too many. If you write anything less than 150K novels, then return to your novel and see what you’ve missed. Because you have definitely missed something. 9) Building on point #8, NEVER delete words or scenes from your manuscript. Every word is necessary and essential to the story development. 10) Characters must remain consistent throughout the novel. If a character begins the story rich, happy, and full of vigor, then they must end the story the exact same way. Otherwise, you risk confusing your reader by writing too many emotions. A consistent character is ten times better than a character who is flighty and unpredictable. 11) Phrases such as “all hell broke loose”, “needle in a haystack”, “so hot you could fry an egg on the sidewalk” are not only cute but are widely known terms that people worldwide can relate to. 12) When your character enters a new setting, take two to three pages to describe in detail his or her surroundings. If it is a room in a house, include the description of not only the drapes and rug thickness, but a full description of the sconces on the wall and the pattern of the wallpaper. This is important to the story. 13) A great novel starts with backstory. 14) Never show your work to anyone but your parents, boyfriend, girlfriend or adoring grandmother. 15) Imagination is dangerous and full of lies and deception. Write only what you know. Back it up with facts and references (add footnotes to your fiction as proof of your knowledge). What other funny or bad advice would you add to the list? I know I've missed a bunch. |
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