Peggy Jaeger's Blog, page 296
April 28, 2015
The never ending road of things to do
With my retirement imminent - 2 days and counting! - I wrote up a list today of everything I want to work on once I don't have to schlep to the office everyday.
That list is almost 3 pages long.
I had no idea there were so many writing projects I'd already begun, stored on my laptop, and forgotten until I had more time to devote to them.
I've got five novels plotted out that need to be started.
I've got four books currently in production.
There's an entire folder chock full of blog entires waiting to be finished and released into the cybersphere.
I've got a marketing plan to refine.
In addition to the writing list, I've got a laundry list of things that I need to do. A garage sale to cull the crap out of my house; painting projects that need doing; the carpets need to be washed, the windows and porch cleaned. I have a storage shed that desperately needs to be cleaned, organized, and culled.
I retired so I could devote my life to writing FULL TIME.
I sincerely hope that happens!
But first, I need to clean the basement...yuk. Hope the spiders have all moved out.
That list is almost 3 pages long.
I had no idea there were so many writing projects I'd already begun, stored on my laptop, and forgotten until I had more time to devote to them.
I've got five novels plotted out that need to be started.
I've got four books currently in production.
There's an entire folder chock full of blog entires waiting to be finished and released into the cybersphere.
I've got a marketing plan to refine.
In addition to the writing list, I've got a laundry list of things that I need to do. A garage sale to cull the crap out of my house; painting projects that need doing; the carpets need to be washed, the windows and porch cleaned. I have a storage shed that desperately needs to be cleaned, organized, and culled.
I retired so I could devote my life to writing FULL TIME.
I sincerely hope that happens!
But first, I need to clean the basement...yuk. Hope the spiders have all moved out.
April 26, 2015
Why I write about families....
If you could come up with one sentence about what I write that defines my “brand” it would be Writing about families and everlasting love. The love part is easy to understand: I write romantic fiction. The family part needs a little explaining.
I was, and still am, an only child. Both my parents remarried after they divorced each other, but neither had more children. I’m it. Some people might think this is like winning the presents and attention lotto. I’m the only one who gets birthday, Christmas, Easter and every other gift-giving holiday, presents. I’m also the one who gets all the individual attention from the parental units. I don’t need to share my parents with anyone else.
In a perfect world this would be great. But we don’t live in a perfect world.
My biological parents despised one another and their anger and disgust filtered down to me. I don’t have any memories in childhood where one of them actually said something nice about the other. It was always a negative comment. In fact, I was told I was so much like the other parent (from both of them ) that this increased the animosity they had for one another and the anxiety I had being around them. When I would dream at night I frequently dreamed of either being an orphan or being in a humongous clannish family.
All 4 of my parents (step and biologic) are still alive, so no orphan state. But I did – luckily – marry into a huge family that I feel is clannish, but in the best sense of the word.
So, when I started writing romance I knew what I wanted to write about were families. The good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful – of which there are equal parts in every family structure.
Since I am an only child, I know firsthand how to write about that. And I have. Many of my stories are about an only child struggling to find the perfect life. Throwing an only into a large family pond is a great way to increase conflict, bring about change both internally and externally, and to encourage growth to happen on every character’s part.
Large families have their own individual ethics, rules and codes for everything from acceptable behavior, to kitchen duties. Throwing an independent only child as an adult, into this dynamic where everything from work to feelings are shared as a whole, and not singularly, is a sure-fire way to ramp up the conflict and tension between the main characters, especially if the only is stuck in his or her ways.
Large families are fun. They can also be soul sucking, heartbreaking, and destructive. But when they are accepting, open and loving, the plot almost writes itself.
I was, and still am, an only child. Both my parents remarried after they divorced each other, but neither had more children. I’m it. Some people might think this is like winning the presents and attention lotto. I’m the only one who gets birthday, Christmas, Easter and every other gift-giving holiday, presents. I’m also the one who gets all the individual attention from the parental units. I don’t need to share my parents with anyone else.
In a perfect world this would be great. But we don’t live in a perfect world.
My biological parents despised one another and their anger and disgust filtered down to me. I don’t have any memories in childhood where one of them actually said something nice about the other. It was always a negative comment. In fact, I was told I was so much like the other parent (from both of them ) that this increased the animosity they had for one another and the anxiety I had being around them. When I would dream at night I frequently dreamed of either being an orphan or being in a humongous clannish family.
All 4 of my parents (step and biologic) are still alive, so no orphan state. But I did – luckily – marry into a huge family that I feel is clannish, but in the best sense of the word.
So, when I started writing romance I knew what I wanted to write about were families. The good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful – of which there are equal parts in every family structure.
Since I am an only child, I know firsthand how to write about that. And I have. Many of my stories are about an only child struggling to find the perfect life. Throwing an only into a large family pond is a great way to increase conflict, bring about change both internally and externally, and to encourage growth to happen on every character’s part.
Large families have their own individual ethics, rules and codes for everything from acceptable behavior, to kitchen duties. Throwing an independent only child as an adult, into this dynamic where everything from work to feelings are shared as a whole, and not singularly, is a sure-fire way to ramp up the conflict and tension between the main characters, especially if the only is stuck in his or her ways.
Large families are fun. They can also be soul sucking, heartbreaking, and destructive. But when they are accepting, open and loving, the plot almost writes itself.
April 14, 2015
A little present and a tease....
May 6, 2015 is the official release date of my second novel THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME. Yippie!
Most of you know the Wizard of OZ is one of my favorite books of all time because it is so rich with psychological subtext and family drama, two of my favorite things to read. The title for my book comes from Dorothy’s famous line, spoken at the end of the movie, and I have always felt this statement is true. There really is no other place like your home. Home means warmth, shelter, comfort, safety, acceptance, love and nurturing. My heroine in THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME, Moira Cleary, is at a crossroads in her life and has come home to rest, recover, and reconnect with her beloved family. She has been globetrotting around the world for over 4 years with a traveling symphony, when something happens to question the lifestyle she has made for herself. Coming home provides her with safety and surrounds her with love. Love of her immediate family, and of her best friend, veterinarian Quentin Stapleton.
Here’s a little present from me to you. Hope you enjoy it and are intrigued enough to order your own copy of THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME.
“Remember when your cousin Tiffany got married in the backyard here?”
Confused, Moira nodded.
Quentin rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “When the Reverend told Cole ‘you can kiss your bride,’ and he swooped her off the ground, spun her around and kissed her silly? Remember what you said?”
“I think I said it was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen.”
He nodded. “The exact quote was, ‘I hope someone kisses me like that some day.’”
Her grin was quick at the memory. “Pat snorted and said I’d better be satisfied with licks from the horses and Rob Roy because no guy was ever gonna kiss me.”
“He wasn’t known for tact back then.” He rubbed a hand down her back as he held her. “Remember what happened later on behind the barn?”
Because she did, she couldn’t stop the heat from spreading up her face like wildfire. When she nodded again, he said, “You wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed like that and since I was your best friend, you thought I should be the one to do it, because you – quote – felt safe with me – unquote.”
“What was I? Eleven?”
“Thirteen. And I was more than willing. Almost broke my heart in two when you said afterward, ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about.’”
“Q—”
“Hush.” He kissed her forehead. “Ever since that day, all I’ve wanted is a second chance. Now,” he pulled her body closer, wrapped both arms around her small waist, his hands resting just above the dent in her spine. “We’re both a little older, a little more mature. Some of us are much more experienced—”
“And conceited.”
“Experienced,” he said, the laugh in his voice quiet and seductive, “and things can be so much better.”
Most of you know the Wizard of OZ is one of my favorite books of all time because it is so rich with psychological subtext and family drama, two of my favorite things to read. The title for my book comes from Dorothy’s famous line, spoken at the end of the movie, and I have always felt this statement is true. There really is no other place like your home. Home means warmth, shelter, comfort, safety, acceptance, love and nurturing. My heroine in THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME, Moira Cleary, is at a crossroads in her life and has come home to rest, recover, and reconnect with her beloved family. She has been globetrotting around the world for over 4 years with a traveling symphony, when something happens to question the lifestyle she has made for herself. Coming home provides her with safety and surrounds her with love. Love of her immediate family, and of her best friend, veterinarian Quentin Stapleton.
Here’s a little present from me to you. Hope you enjoy it and are intrigued enough to order your own copy of THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME.
“Remember when your cousin Tiffany got married in the backyard here?”
Confused, Moira nodded.
Quentin rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “When the Reverend told Cole ‘you can kiss your bride,’ and he swooped her off the ground, spun her around and kissed her silly? Remember what you said?”
“I think I said it was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen.”
He nodded. “The exact quote was, ‘I hope someone kisses me like that some day.’”
Her grin was quick at the memory. “Pat snorted and said I’d better be satisfied with licks from the horses and Rob Roy because no guy was ever gonna kiss me.”
“He wasn’t known for tact back then.” He rubbed a hand down her back as he held her. “Remember what happened later on behind the barn?”
Because she did, she couldn’t stop the heat from spreading up her face like wildfire. When she nodded again, he said, “You wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed like that and since I was your best friend, you thought I should be the one to do it, because you – quote – felt safe with me – unquote.”
“What was I? Eleven?”
“Thirteen. And I was more than willing. Almost broke my heart in two when you said afterward, ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about.’”
“Q—”
“Hush.” He kissed her forehead. “Ever since that day, all I’ve wanted is a second chance. Now,” he pulled her body closer, wrapped both arms around her small waist, his hands resting just above the dent in her spine. “We’re both a little older, a little more mature. Some of us are much more experienced—”
“And conceited.”
“Experienced,” he said, the laugh in his voice quiet and seductive, “and things can be so much better.”
Editing
I'm participating in the RWA challenge "THE END," and I've found myself doing something I never do while I'm working on my WIP : editing as I go.
When I write I almost always work from an outline, stick to it and then when the work is completed, start to edit. This time, though, for whatever reason, I am editing as I go...and I find I am liking it!
Even though my outlines are detailed, long winded, and very explanatory, every now and then a new little niggle of a thought or plot line change will worm its way into my mind. Most of the time I write the thought down and come back to it at the end.
Not this time.
For instance, the other day I was driving to work and saw a sign that said "Put God back in the -ass." Now I know that it should have read "class," but some wiseacre changed it. I found this funny - sacrilegious, but none the less funny in a skewered way. Part of my current WIP involves a girl who mis-speaks many times when she is nervous. So this got me to thinking about making her nervous tourettes-like symptoms more pronounced.
Back to my outline I went and wrote some funny miss-speaks into it to use during the telling of the story.
Editing as I go is new territory for me writing-wise, so we will have to see how it goes. If it takes too much time away from actually getting the words on the page in a timely fashion I will rethink the process.
But if it actually makes the story better the first time around, I just may have a whole new way to create.
Something to think about....
When I write I almost always work from an outline, stick to it and then when the work is completed, start to edit. This time, though, for whatever reason, I am editing as I go...and I find I am liking it!
Even though my outlines are detailed, long winded, and very explanatory, every now and then a new little niggle of a thought or plot line change will worm its way into my mind. Most of the time I write the thought down and come back to it at the end.
Not this time.
For instance, the other day I was driving to work and saw a sign that said "Put God back in the -ass." Now I know that it should have read "class," but some wiseacre changed it. I found this funny - sacrilegious, but none the less funny in a skewered way. Part of my current WIP involves a girl who mis-speaks many times when she is nervous. So this got me to thinking about making her nervous tourettes-like symptoms more pronounced.
Back to my outline I went and wrote some funny miss-speaks into it to use during the telling of the story.
Editing as I go is new territory for me writing-wise, so we will have to see how it goes. If it takes too much time away from actually getting the words on the page in a timely fashion I will rethink the process.
But if it actually makes the story better the first time around, I just may have a whole new way to create.
Something to think about....
April 3, 2015
The Power of Friends
I don't have many friends, but the ones I do have are keepers for life.
Oh, I have friends on Facebook, and followers on Twitter and Pinterest. People, even follow this blog ( thanks so much for doing so!) But real honest to goodness, give you a kidney if you needed it friends are few and far between.
But that's okay. Like I said, the one's I have are keepers.
As an only child, I grew up mostly alone. Parents at work all day and into the evening, I spent a great deal of time at the local library after school. The head librarian knew more about me than my family did. Books became my true friends. Trixie Beldon, Nancy Drew, even Miss Marple where the people I shared my life with. It sounds sad, but it wasn't. I loved being in the library surrounded by words. It was so much better than being in school surrounded by bullies who taunted and tortured me verbally because I looked different, was different, had a different last name than my mother ( this was the 60' and 70's - not too many divorces yet among the populous). Books were my friends, their characters my peers and teachers.
Okay, so maybe it was a little sad, but believe me, I never felt like it was.
When I got older and my outer shell of protection hardened, it was easier. I was still different than most, but I started to discover people who were similar in their own differences to me. Book readers; smart kids; creative kids. Kids who didn't care what people thought about them. Kids who would stand up for me, and me for them, against the bullies and clique'y kids. All the knowledge I'd gleaned from those books I'd been surrounded with helped me discover the person I truly was. The kid on the inside who lived on the outside and wanted nothing else but to belong.
In a word, me.
No longer did I wait until people sought me out - I started pursuing them. I started actually making friends, putting myself out there and trusting that I wouldn't get hurt. And if I did, well, then, I'd chalk it up to life experience.
I'm still that same kid on the inside. Still know I'm different from most, think differently than the norm. But the people who are close to me now, the ones who truly are friends in every sense of the word, are the ones who are most precious to me. They share my highs and my lows, give me strength and receive it from me when they need it, and they celebrate the person I am, differences and all.
It's been said that words have power. My power comes from within, but also from my friends. And they make me feel very powerful indeed.
Oh, I have friends on Facebook, and followers on Twitter and Pinterest. People, even follow this blog ( thanks so much for doing so!) But real honest to goodness, give you a kidney if you needed it friends are few and far between.
But that's okay. Like I said, the one's I have are keepers.
As an only child, I grew up mostly alone. Parents at work all day and into the evening, I spent a great deal of time at the local library after school. The head librarian knew more about me than my family did. Books became my true friends. Trixie Beldon, Nancy Drew, even Miss Marple where the people I shared my life with. It sounds sad, but it wasn't. I loved being in the library surrounded by words. It was so much better than being in school surrounded by bullies who taunted and tortured me verbally because I looked different, was different, had a different last name than my mother ( this was the 60' and 70's - not too many divorces yet among the populous). Books were my friends, their characters my peers and teachers.
Okay, so maybe it was a little sad, but believe me, I never felt like it was.
When I got older and my outer shell of protection hardened, it was easier. I was still different than most, but I started to discover people who were similar in their own differences to me. Book readers; smart kids; creative kids. Kids who didn't care what people thought about them. Kids who would stand up for me, and me for them, against the bullies and clique'y kids. All the knowledge I'd gleaned from those books I'd been surrounded with helped me discover the person I truly was. The kid on the inside who lived on the outside and wanted nothing else but to belong.
In a word, me.
No longer did I wait until people sought me out - I started pursuing them. I started actually making friends, putting myself out there and trusting that I wouldn't get hurt. And if I did, well, then, I'd chalk it up to life experience.
I'm still that same kid on the inside. Still know I'm different from most, think differently than the norm. But the people who are close to me now, the ones who truly are friends in every sense of the word, are the ones who are most precious to me. They share my highs and my lows, give me strength and receive it from me when they need it, and they celebrate the person I am, differences and all.
It's been said that words have power. My power comes from within, but also from my friends. And they make me feel very powerful indeed.
March 29, 2015
Why we need to support each other as Writers...
One of my lovely, talented and fun-to-be-around NHRWA member chapter-mates just found out she is a finalist in the RWA GoldenHeart Contest. For those of you who don’t know what this means, listen up. The Golden Hearts awards are given to extremely talented and deserving romance writers who have not had a book-length romance published as of yet. It’s like the Golden Globes awards are to the Oscars. In romance, the Oscars are the annual RITA awards. So when my chapter-mate’s name was announced the other day, everyone who knows her was instantly thrilled for her, including all of us who belong to the New Hampshire chapter. Prestige, honor and open doors in the publishing world all accompany this nomination and, subsequent win. She – and we – will find out the winners at the annual RWA conference in July in NYC. It proves to be a truly memorable event.
Her nomination/finalist state and our happiness for her got me to thinking. Writers of romance are truly the most convivial and supportive group of humans I have ever met. We applaud each other’s successes, understand the emotional toils the non-successes ( I don’t like the word failure) take on our souls, and we cheer each other on through the often grueling process of creating love on the page.
Romance writers are a rare breed. And I am so thankful they/we are.
Competition many times fosters a sense of isolation and removal from the group of people you are competing against. The goal is to win it all, many times at whatever cost. Friendships are lost and destroyed all just to grab that proverbial golden ring.
Not so with romance writers. Yes, we compete against one another in the basic sense because we all want to get our book published and into the hands of readers. But for every NYT bestseller and USA list out there where a romance writer makes it to the top, the rest of us know we can make it there, too. The trail blazers like Nora Roberts, Beatrice Small, and Kathleen Woodiwiss have made what we write relevant to the masses and a force to be reckoned with in the sales division. We literally stand on their writing shoulders and are lifted up by their triumphs to gain success for ourselves. The better they do, the better we do.
So. I congratulate my writing friend with all sincerity and love. She is truly deserving of the nomination AND the win. When we are all in NYC in July I will be among the other 2,000 or so attendees who will be standing and applauding her victory, for her victory is also ours and we are better for knowing her.
Her nomination/finalist state and our happiness for her got me to thinking. Writers of romance are truly the most convivial and supportive group of humans I have ever met. We applaud each other’s successes, understand the emotional toils the non-successes ( I don’t like the word failure) take on our souls, and we cheer each other on through the often grueling process of creating love on the page.
Romance writers are a rare breed. And I am so thankful they/we are.
Competition many times fosters a sense of isolation and removal from the group of people you are competing against. The goal is to win it all, many times at whatever cost. Friendships are lost and destroyed all just to grab that proverbial golden ring.
Not so with romance writers. Yes, we compete against one another in the basic sense because we all want to get our book published and into the hands of readers. But for every NYT bestseller and USA list out there where a romance writer makes it to the top, the rest of us know we can make it there, too. The trail blazers like Nora Roberts, Beatrice Small, and Kathleen Woodiwiss have made what we write relevant to the masses and a force to be reckoned with in the sales division. We literally stand on their writing shoulders and are lifted up by their triumphs to gain success for ourselves. The better they do, the better we do.
So. I congratulate my writing friend with all sincerity and love. She is truly deserving of the nomination AND the win. When we are all in NYC in July I will be among the other 2,000 or so attendees who will be standing and applauding her victory, for her victory is also ours and we are better for knowing her.
March 28, 2015
to edit or not to edit...that is the question
I'm currently waiting for the final galley proof for my second book, There's No Place Like Home, while I'm also editing the first round of the third book FIRST IMPRESSIONS. That's a lot of editing and reading that needs to be done.
In addition, I just wrote a novella for submission, have been working on my website blog and this blog and am trying to get a jump start on book four. PLUS I need to start book two of another series I have outlined.
A lot of edits and reading and writing that needs to be done!
I also need to live my life which includes my paying job, my dance preparations for next month's Keene Dancing with the Stars ( I'm doing the cha-cha), running a household, trying to get my 10,000 steps minimum in per day and....I could go on, but you get the picture. Suffice it to say I'm busy.
Back to the edits. Before I submit I usually put the work through 4-5 edits. It astounds me that I have to do more once it has been accepted. But I will admit this freely - every edit I have done at my editor's suggestion has made my work better. Really better.
SO, I will neither complain, bitch, or bemoan the editing process because it means I am getting published.
Silver lining there, folks!
In addition, I just wrote a novella for submission, have been working on my website blog and this blog and am trying to get a jump start on book four. PLUS I need to start book two of another series I have outlined.
A lot of edits and reading and writing that needs to be done!
I also need to live my life which includes my paying job, my dance preparations for next month's Keene Dancing with the Stars ( I'm doing the cha-cha), running a household, trying to get my 10,000 steps minimum in per day and....I could go on, but you get the picture. Suffice it to say I'm busy.
Back to the edits. Before I submit I usually put the work through 4-5 edits. It astounds me that I have to do more once it has been accepted. But I will admit this freely - every edit I have done at my editor's suggestion has made my work better. Really better.
SO, I will neither complain, bitch, or bemoan the editing process because it means I am getting published.
Silver lining there, folks!
March 26, 2015
the long and short of writing
I don’t think it’s a lie to say I’m verbose. As in, long winded, wordy, loquacious, garrulous…you get the message. My daughter read something of mine once and critiqued it by asking, “why do you say the same thing three times, differently? Why not just say it once, effectively?”
So happy her Dartmouth education paid off, because, really, she was right.
I write fast – no surprise there, since I talk and think fast. Quick witted is what an admirer said of me once. My first drafts go on for hundreds of pages. Dialogue, exposition, explanation. Words and words and words. I just write whatever comes into my head while my fingers follow. I talk this way, as well, so it’s not a bombshell to admit my writing reflects this. If I got paid by the word I’d be a quadrillionaire ( if there is such a thing).
Even now, as I’m typing this, I find myself saying the same thing in different ways just to make sure you, dear reader, get it.
Robert Parker and Elmore Leonard were two of my favorite writers when I was penning mysteries. Their dialogue was always spot on, even if it was a one word rebuke or answer to a question, and their descriptions required no more than a sentence or two for the reader to get the visual. They trusted their readers to understand what they were trying to convey and we always did. I live to write this way. The nicest compliment a reader can give me is that they “vividly saw what I wrote when they read it.”
I just submitted a story for a new series that will be coming out next Valentine’s Day. The word cap was 10-20 K, maximum. My stories are usually 85,000-100,000 words, easily. Writing this story for submission was an excellent way for me to learn to curtail my logorrhea. First draft was 27,615 words – and I thought all of them should be kept. No. They couldn’t. I had to eliminate at the very least 7,615. That’s a full scene for me.
Second draft I got it down to 22,005. Still not enough.
I had a dream one night on how to tighten a scene and BAM! the next day I got it down to roughly 14,500. This was good. I read the story at least 20 times, gave it to a friend and read little snippets to my coworkers. They all agreed I should leave it as it stood. Don’t add. Don’t subtract.
I agreed. Today I submitted it to my Editor. We’ll see what happens, but this exercise taught me the benefit of culling extraneous words, tightening longwinded and rambling scenes, and focusing in on the specifics of the story and not worrying about the extra stuff no one needs to know about. As a writer, this is a good thing.
It’s not exactly a bad thing as a person either, since I do tend to ramble on and on and……..
So happy her Dartmouth education paid off, because, really, she was right.
I write fast – no surprise there, since I talk and think fast. Quick witted is what an admirer said of me once. My first drafts go on for hundreds of pages. Dialogue, exposition, explanation. Words and words and words. I just write whatever comes into my head while my fingers follow. I talk this way, as well, so it’s not a bombshell to admit my writing reflects this. If I got paid by the word I’d be a quadrillionaire ( if there is such a thing).
Even now, as I’m typing this, I find myself saying the same thing in different ways just to make sure you, dear reader, get it.
Robert Parker and Elmore Leonard were two of my favorite writers when I was penning mysteries. Their dialogue was always spot on, even if it was a one word rebuke or answer to a question, and their descriptions required no more than a sentence or two for the reader to get the visual. They trusted their readers to understand what they were trying to convey and we always did. I live to write this way. The nicest compliment a reader can give me is that they “vividly saw what I wrote when they read it.”
I just submitted a story for a new series that will be coming out next Valentine’s Day. The word cap was 10-20 K, maximum. My stories are usually 85,000-100,000 words, easily. Writing this story for submission was an excellent way for me to learn to curtail my logorrhea. First draft was 27,615 words – and I thought all of them should be kept. No. They couldn’t. I had to eliminate at the very least 7,615. That’s a full scene for me.
Second draft I got it down to 22,005. Still not enough.
I had a dream one night on how to tighten a scene and BAM! the next day I got it down to roughly 14,500. This was good. I read the story at least 20 times, gave it to a friend and read little snippets to my coworkers. They all agreed I should leave it as it stood. Don’t add. Don’t subtract.
I agreed. Today I submitted it to my Editor. We’ll see what happens, but this exercise taught me the benefit of culling extraneous words, tightening longwinded and rambling scenes, and focusing in on the specifics of the story and not worrying about the extra stuff no one needs to know about. As a writer, this is a good thing.
It’s not exactly a bad thing as a person either, since I do tend to ramble on and on and……..
March 21, 2015
Families... can't live with them, don't want to live without them
I'm fascinated by families and birth order. As an only child, I was the solitary kid in rooms always filled with adults. I think one of the reasons I'm such a good and thorough observer is because I was raised in that era where children were seen but never heard. I learned very early in life how to watch people without them noticing, how to gage emotions and reactions during situations, and most importantly, how to describe what I was seeing.
From the time I knew I was the only kid in my family's realm, I dreamed of having siblings. It didn't matter to me if I was the oldest, youngest, or came somewhere in the middle of the food chain. I wanted other people like me around the house. Sadly, it didn't happen. My life long fascination with birth order and how siblings react and interact with one another is the reason I like writing about big families. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to invent the families I always wanted as my own. I would have liked nothing more while growing up than to have older brothers looking out for me and sisters guiding my way to adolescence.
Families come with their own sets of rules on behavior and thinking and actions. Most of it is based on the shared history they have, and much of it is situational.
When I start a new book series, the dynamics in the family comes first. Is there a father figure present and if so, how does he rule? If no dad is around, how does the mother keep order, pay the bills, provide for her children? What roles do the oldest and youngest play int his scheme? All these questions are thought out prior to my ever typing a word of the story. I need to now "my families" before I can write about them.
What about you? Come from a big family, or are you an only like me? Where is your birth order and did it play a role in making you the person you are? Or did it hamper your dreams and desires because things were "expected of you?"
Birth order, sibling dynamics, and families are truly fascinating to read - and write - about.
From the time I knew I was the only kid in my family's realm, I dreamed of having siblings. It didn't matter to me if I was the oldest, youngest, or came somewhere in the middle of the food chain. I wanted other people like me around the house. Sadly, it didn't happen. My life long fascination with birth order and how siblings react and interact with one another is the reason I like writing about big families. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to invent the families I always wanted as my own. I would have liked nothing more while growing up than to have older brothers looking out for me and sisters guiding my way to adolescence.
Families come with their own sets of rules on behavior and thinking and actions. Most of it is based on the shared history they have, and much of it is situational.
When I start a new book series, the dynamics in the family comes first. Is there a father figure present and if so, how does he rule? If no dad is around, how does the mother keep order, pay the bills, provide for her children? What roles do the oldest and youngest play int his scheme? All these questions are thought out prior to my ever typing a word of the story. I need to now "my families" before I can write about them.
What about you? Come from a big family, or are you an only like me? Where is your birth order and did it play a role in making you the person you are? Or did it hamper your dreams and desires because things were "expected of you?"
Birth order, sibling dynamics, and families are truly fascinating to read - and write - about.
March 11, 2015
PitMad
Today was crazy! I participated in a Twitter event titled PitMad, which I think stands for Pitch multiple agents and...something with a d! Anyway. From 8am until 8 pm any author was allowed to pitch their current completed WIP in 140 characters or less ( remember this is Twitter) and dozens upon dozens of agents and editors trolled through the tweets all day long. If an agent or editor :favored" your pitch, you were sent to guidelines for submission to each individual person. I got 11 requests and sent out a total of 6 submissions. Now the proverbial waiting game begins again. WHile those emails are brewing, I am currently working on Book 4 of the MacQuire Women series. Book 1 came out last week, 2 is due sometimes in the summer with 3 around winter.
This is an exciting time and I hope everyone who does read Skater' Waltz enjoys it as much as I did writing it.
This is an exciting time and I hope everyone who does read Skater' Waltz enjoys it as much as I did writing it.
