Book spotlights. Continue reading
Check out this sweet romance by Denise Devine. Continue reading
I DIDN’T FORGET by JAMES S KELLY The double murders of two long time friends has created havoc in the small town of Solvang, California. Clay Wrens, the county’s top homicide detective is called on to investigate. As the investigation … Continue reading
The Destiny Factor D. J Jouett is a second-year law student and writer of several suspense/romance novels. She is here today to talk about her latest title The Destiny Factor, which has been nominated for Kindle Scout. Here at WWBB we … Continue reading
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| “Beware of fragile things… those edges are sharp once they break.” GOODREADS |
“My dad drowned. My mom died in her sleep.”“How old was she?”“About twenty-six.” Jessie shuddered just a little bit. “Just a little older than Miranda is now.”“That’s awfully young to die in your sleep.”“Heart condition, they said.”“Who’s they?”“Richard and Lucy.” Jessie shook her head. “No. Just Richard.”“What did your aunt say?”“Nothing,” Jessie said quietly. “She just let Richard do all the talking.”“How old was he?”Jessie sighed. “Thirteen, I think.”“And how old were you?”“Four.”“So how do you know you remember it correctly?”Jessie looked at him square in the eye. “Because you know when you’re that age. When you’re a little kid, you don’t have to go through the apologetic BS you do when you’re older. When you’re eight, even. You just get it. And people think you’re crazy or in the way or rude because you get it and then you say it. So then no one wants to talk to you or they send you to your room. Then you start making up excuses for why they must be right and you must be wrong. Then you grow up, and you realize that you had it right back then, and if your world seems messed up, it’s because you bought into someone else’s lies. So don’t lie anymore, and everything will be just fine.”“And when did you come to that nugget of wisdom?”“When I was fifteen,” Jessie said quietly. “And I’ve been very happy ever since.”
Story so far…
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The
China Doll is the third installment of the New Pioneers series,
the sequel to The Smartest Girl in the Room
(March 2013) and The Family You Choose (September 2013). While
her long-suffering editor works her magic on the fourth installment Let’s
Move On, Deborah is working on the fifth. That book will be set in the
world of Boston and Massachusetts politics, and her job will be to tone down
the true stories she’s heard so they seem believable.
I work a full time job. Thus, my writing must be scheduled so that it becomes part of my regular daily routine. A work shift of 11:30am to 8pm enables me to write in the mornings. This early-to-rise habit is easily applied to weekends and holidays, whenever feasible.
I attempt creative productivity in the mornings at least five days per week. Some weeks it is less. In other weeks, I go into the zone and amass a nice chunk of chapters, or, in the case of short stories, some workable drafts. A typical day in the life of this author goes something like the below:
6:30am: The alarm goes off. I shut it down and ignore the morning for about fifteen to twenty more minutes. My cat starts acting noisy and mischievous around the apartment because she has also heard the alarm and wants food.
7:00am: The cat has been fed. A pot of coffee has been started. As I wait for the pot to brew, I open my laptop and review the most recent section or chapter I’ve written. And only that chapter or section. This helps shift my focus from a sleep-daze into a creative headspace and also prevents me from entering the dreaded “endless re-read and re-edit” cycle.
Does that cycle sound familiar? It was so difficult to train myself to refrain from a complete re-read of the WIP each time I sat down to write. My attention would fixate on previous chapters in a vicious circle of re-reading and re-editing, over and over. Time drifted by and no new sections were tackled. Now, only the most recent section of writing from the previous session is allowed a review for modification. Then I get a cup of coffee (or a second one, if I’ve already downed a cup) and begin a new section of the novel or current WIP.
For the next two to two and a half hours, I write.
After that, breakfast, shower, time to get ready and leave for work. On weekends, the same routine occurs before I leave the apartment for the day. I rarely write at night. I’m usually busy with other things.
What about the rest of the day? Well, if ideas for scenes or plot points or story arcs come to me during the day while at work, or just out and about, I carry a notebook so I can jot notes. These are then added to or outlined in the manuscript later. If I like them, they are expanded upon or merged into the piece.
In addition to a full-time job, I have an active social life. Over the years, I learned to limit my diversions to prevent the creative output from becoming fallow. The active social life is a tricky area for me because I am inspired and receive many of my ideas for storylines and characters through my real world interactions and social activities. To stay home, seclude myself, and focus only on the WIP would cause the well of inspiration to dry up. The stimulation required to motivate me would short-circuit, and my enthusiasm to get the words onto the paper (or onto the laptop screen), would shut off.
A balancing act. That is essentially what a day in my life is like. At the moment, I am about six days behind on my NaNoWriMo word count. (I am drafting my second novel in the Naked Eye Series using the NaNoWriMo method). That is atrocious! However, the Thanksgiving holiday looms. I intend to use those extra days off to immerse myself – to partake of the very seclusion I tend to avoid, to make the strides necessary to finish at least a 50,000 foundation draft for my current WIP.
Mornings are my creative high tides. When is your creative high tide and how do you tailor it into your everyday life?
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| Elizabeth Myrddin |
Elizabeth Myrddin works, lives, and plays in beautiful San Francisco. She writes for enjoyment and because the individuals and experiences that pepper her life, for good or for ill, inspire her. Although her writing tends to lurk on the darker side of storytelling, she finds the soft-boiled pulp mystery subgenre appealing. Fun Is For Shallow People is her first full-length novel. The penning of Part Two of the story is already in progress.
Detective Ted Rose sat on a bench on the dock and tried to ignore the chill mist that swirled around him as he entered notes using an iPad.
adrift rowboat on lake pulled in by mgmt. contains one dead adult male in costume.
His work partner, Detective Alexa Sheldon, studied the boat and he heard her remark, “Interesting.”
She joined him and by way of greeting said, “So we have, apparently, a dead fop. Or rather, a man in a foppish costume, but still very dead.”
Ted glanced up as she pulled on a black wool beret and opened an umbrella. He resumed typing after acknowledging her presence with a faint smile. Ted had worked with Alexa for eight months. The early weeks of their partnership had been tense. His reserved, aloof demeanor frustrated her, he knew, but he had eventually relaxed his guard. They were finally getting know each other a little better. Or rather, Ted allowed himself to be more communicative.
Alexa held out the umbrella so that it sheltered them from the sprinkling rain. “What’s the word on this situation?”
Ted felt her lean over his shoulder to read the screen. He shrugged. “I don’t have much yet. I met the owners, Martin and Eunice Caldwell. They’re married and Parrot Lake Boating has been their business for thirty years. Martin said a bunch of costumers held a gathering in the lake area yesterday. After the party, they left the park. At least one individual stayed behind with a rowboat and a bottle of absinthe. The guy was found dead in the drifting boat this morning. That’s all I’ve got except for the name of the group that reserved the gazebo and rowboats for their event – The Laurel Bay Costume Society.”
“Suicide ruled out?”
Ted tapped, half-empty bottle of alcohol. smells like absinthe. empty glass with absinthe residue. to lab for analysis. He powered down the device and stood. “Nothing is ruled out yet. The coroner’s office will take care of things and get back to us. Let’s finish with the owners.”
As Alexa followed him to the reservation office, Ted zipped shut his black, hooded fleece jacket. The drizzle of rain had eased and the weather was again a dense mist. Jesus, the clinging damp was more annoying than a full-on rain.
He entered the boating office and Martin, a lanky, older man with steel gray hair worn in a short ponytail, stood behind a counter writing in a ledger.
Martin looked up as the detectives approached. “All done out there or do your people need more time to do what they do with the boat and the body?”
“They’ll let you know when their work is complete,” Ted responded. He gestured to Alexa. “Martin, this is my partner, Detective Sheldon. We’d like to ask you and your wife a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
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@louise_wise and T. E Kessler 