Rachel Rossano's Blog, page 33

An Update and A Laugh

I should give the update first.

The science fiction short story is sent to the publisher. *crosses fingers and prays* Hopefully she will like it and it will fit with the anthology she has planned for this summer.

The Theodoric Saga editing is moving forward. My best friend, Charissa Taylor, came to visit for a few days. Per usual, she has given me some great ideas on what to do with Ruarc. Now I just have to write them down.

Wren is stalled at the moment. The climax is giving me fits and not cooperating. I will be devoting some time to untangling the mess in my head. Hopefully that will get it moving again soon. I can't believe it is almost finished.

And the promised laugh... One of my favorite authors (I have so many) posted a great little story on her blog a while ago. I revisited it and wanted to share the laughter.  http://www.sarahmeden.com/2011/02/if-every-story-were-written-like-cliche.html

Enjoy!

- Rachel Rossano

A new chapter in Wren is up, finally!!!

Tourth faces his past while seeking his future and Wren leaves him to go off on her own. The tension is building toward the climax. Hopefully I can pull it off.

I always get nervous about this part of writing. Questions crowd in and make me doubt. "Can I really bring this to a fulfilling climax? Will the resolution be satisfying or just contrived? Have I woven in all the loose threads? Did I forget something vital? Could it be better?"

The answer to that last one is always yes, but I will address it in the next draft. That is what first drafts are for, getting the story down. There will plenty of time for revision later. :)

So, please stop by and read the latest chapter. For the first time, I ask a question at the end. I would love to hear your response.

- Rachel Rossano

Questions -

     If you are a writer: Do climaxes intimidate you too? If so, what aspects?

     For non-writers: What kind of ending do you prefer, happy ever after, happy for now, unresolved, or something else?

I would love to hear what you think. :)

Wren has her own Facebook page

Wren Romany has her own facebook page. Stop by for updates on her story, connections to her siblings, and their journey to publication in book form.

Where did I go?

You are all probably wondering where I went. I haven't blogged in a while.

Sorry. Life was a bit zany for a while. My hubby traveled on business for a few days and it was just me and the three kiddies for that time. Then crunch time for my husband's masters class took up all of his time outside of work so I got little time to myself. So, I am back.

Status update:

The Crown of Anavrea is a hair short of two thirds edited. One step at a time...

Wren Romany will hopefully be moving forward soon. I just set up a Facebook page for her.



"Exchange" is going to get a final edit sometime soon. Hubby still hasn't read it (schoolwork was pressing), so he needs to read it before I finally send it off to the publisher.

So, that is the latest. Thanks for being patient. I hope to have more for you soon. :)

- Rachel Rossano

Excerpt from the revised The Crown of Anavrea:

"So, where are you from, little mouse?"

Eve lifted her head from scrubbing the dinner pot. Her hands shook from exhaustion. They had now traveled a full day and night without rest. Her eyes protested at the idea of focusing. The wagon master's son stood over her, grinning in a way he clearly thought disarming.

Eve returned to scrubbing.

More to come... :)

Agent Pitch Contest!!

I saw this on Rachel Rager's blog and thought I would give it a go with Living Sacrifice. If you are interested in trying it yourself, here are the basics:

Super agent Ammi-Joan Paquette has so kindly offered to host a pitch contest - our first, but definitely not last - on YAtopia. And seeing as she's currently closed to submissions, this is an opportunity you simply CANNOT miss out on.

It's really quite simple what you have to do. Ready?

1) Be a follower of the blog. Nice and easy.

2) Blog about this contest and include a link with your entry. If you don't have a blog, you may tweet or make a facebook status. But we prefer blog.

3) Create a TWO SENTENCE pitch. And not a massively long run-on sentence either. Two concise sentences that will hook Joan to your book and have her desperate to read more.

4) Include the opening line of your manuscript.

5) Manuscripts that you submit should be completed. I leave it up to you whether you decide to submit a half finished manuscript. You'll have to deal with it SHOULD Joan request you send her the full.

6) This contest will be capped at either 150 entries OR will end midnight on the 24th March.

7) Winners to be announced (along with prizes) on 31st March.

8) Only childrens and young adult categories will be accepted. Sorry!

So, hurry over fellow writers of YA fiction.
Good luck!! Post your entries on YAtopia's blog !

- Rachel Rossano

Question for the day - How many manuscripts do you have lying (finished and unfinished) around awaiting writing, polishing, or publishing?

Fish Water for Dinner

Fish water (pasta in tomato sauce) for dinner. As three-year-old describes it: "the fish (the pasta) tries to swim away in the water (the sauce) and I catch it and eat it." He came up with the name himself. His imagination amazes me.


I know it is very silly to be comparing my writing to fish water, but I am going to anyway. If the fish/pasta is my inspiration/concentration and the water/sauce is my writing time, my fish is suffocating in air and when it does hit water, I starve because I can't catch it.
 
Part of the issue is I have received some critiques from other writers on my work, an essential part of the writing process. I am encouraged by some of my critters, however, others are not as uplifting. Some readers were confused, and others got lost. Everyone has an opinion on how the plot should go and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't please everyone. Of course, I already know I cannot entertain and engage every person who reads my writing. That is why I write for a specific audience.
 
However, the fact that some do not like what I write still hurts. I long to please people, an inclination I have to fight sometimes. I think everyone has that part of them that wants everyone to like them. But reality is, not everyone will like everyone else. Here I expose my insecurity. *sheepish grin*
 
In crowd the worries and out goes my muse.
 
It will return. I just need to give it some time.
 
Back to topic. This is all to say: I haven't gotten much writing done. Wren is ready to pin me to a wall with her throwing knives and Tourth is threatening much worse. Besides them, Labren, Eve, Myah and Ruhan are all clamoring for editing. (Myah and Ruhan are my SF short story characters.) Characters demanding that their stories get edited is a new experience for me, probably because I am not much of an editor. I am working on that.
 
So, now that I have rambled at you for quite a bit, I come to the final conclusion. Due to family obligations (three cute distractions in my children) and elusive inspiration, my writing and editing efforts have been delayed. Just thought I would warn you, explain why, and reassure you that I am still moving, at the rate of a snail. 
 
Hopefully this confession will get things moving faster. :)
 
- Rachel Rossano

Writing and Crisis

I have rediscovered something about myself in the past week: when I am stressed about something I don't want to think about, I write. My father had open heart surgery last Wednesday. We found out he needed a valve replacement only a few weeks ago so the news was still fresh when he went in with chest pain and found he would need three to four bypasses as well.

As a Christian, I know that all things are in the Lord's hands. This faith, instilled in me since childhood by my parents, has been tested many times. I underwent surgery on my eyes at ages four and five and suffered epilepsy during childhood. In June of the year I was five, I took this faith to heart by committing my heart to the Lord. He took it and I have never looked back. His, the Lord's, sovereignty has always been a comfort for me, especially in times like these. The faith He has given me has never wavered. But, oh, how hard it is to leave things in His hands and not worry.

My solution this time has been to write like crazy. You ask me how this helps? It keeps my mind busy and distracted. It is hard to dwell on those things I have brought to the Lord in prayer and left there when I am busily planning the next scene or the next plot point. I still spent many hours in prayer for my father and my family out in the Midwest while I am here in northeast. But once the prayers have covered all possibilities multiple times, I have poured my heart out to the Lord and placed it all firmly in His hands, I know I need to leave it there. I need to trust and not worry. So, I write.

An anthology opportunity dropped in my lap (Thank you, Lord) before the surgery: a science fiction romantic short story 5,000 to 15,000 words. I immediately had an idea for a side story connected to Living Sacrifice involving Clovis. Unfortunately, that didn't work out. Instead a story seed that has haunted me for years yet refused to take form no matter how I tried finally fleshed out in my head. I wrote like a mad woman. Over 8,000 words later, I think I have a decent short story. I am not as confident about this one as some of the other projects. The main reason for my hesitation is because I am not an experienced short story writer. I have only written one Science Fiction piece before and it is a whopping big novel. However, the short story has been sent out to my favorite editor, Charissa Taylor, and I am eagerly waiting for the chance to discuss it with her.

Next, I have plotted and begun the end of Wren's story. The tension is winding up for the climax. There is peril galore, tension, impending doom, and all the great things that a climax needs. The challenge now is to get the budding romance between Tourth and Wren to come to satisfying fruition before the end. We shall see. As long as nobody gets stubborn or ornery, I might pull it off. :)

Finally, The Crown of Anavrea revision project! Yup, that one is next up for attention. I am hoping to dive into rewriting today. If all goes well, I will be into the second stage of editing of the second third before the end of the week when I have to return to Wren for another chapter. :) We shall see if everything goes as planned.

My dad's surgery went really well. He is still in ICU, though, because of various issues that keep popping up. I know God has a reason for it all. If nothing else, each day he remains in the hospital is another day of healing and recovery, praise the Lord.

- Rachel Rossano

Romance Blogfest - Feb 14, 2011

Here is my entry for the Romantic Blogfest February 2011:

A SF romance, this scene is the first meeting of the main characters, (Hadrian and Zezilia) two Talents (people who can speak mind to mind), one trained and one untrained. Sent thoughts are italicized within quotes. This is a first draft so typos and errors are expected, please ignore them.

Enjoy!

Excerpt from Work in Process Living Sacrifice:


Hadrian


"Great potential talent," Errol whispered into my mind. I watched the girl he spoke of, hardly more than a child, and tried to see what he saw. Or rather, receive what he heard.


"I am receiving nothing," I protested.


Zezilia Ilar, meaning grey-eyed, I had heard of her like most of the Talents heard of the births of daughters, with the rumors. Dark and slender, I watched as she moved among the throng of recently presented girls. She seemed aloof, distant somehow, as she walked to stand by the outer wall. Her eyes down cast and demeanor quiet. From this distance, I couldn't even catch a glimpse to find out if her name was because of a characteristic or a romantic fancy of her mother's.


The rest of the young hopefuls thronged into clutches of whispers and giggles. Their eager eyes watching for any chance glance from an older male. They knew their purpose, snatch a rich prospect before the high week finished. One or two of the more forward young women boldly scanned the crowd and carefully chose upon whom they bestowed their coy smiles.


"She is thinking of the gardens," Errol sent.


I looked down at my tutor and friend in surprise. "The gardens?" A young woman at the first major social event of her life and her mind on foliage, it was unique.


He smiled. "I told you she was different."


I turned my attention back to the small, green-clad figure beside the open windows. Behind us the music changed, announcing the arrival of the Mesitas. "So, since I cannot hear her, what do you suggest I do to test her?"


"Touch her mind," Errol suggested. "If she senses you, we will know that she is."


I frowned. "And why must I do it?"


"I am not strong enough to do it at this distance." I detected an underlying meaning in Errol's voice, but by the time I glanced down at him, his face was blank.


"I don't know."


"Come on, Ilias. You know you surpassed my abilities long ago. Now just do this for your old tutor. Test her and see if I am mistaken about her talent."


The Mesitas with his cohort of Segia approached the High King's dais. Any moment he would be giving the official blessing over the Caelestis Novem. If I didn't do it now, I wouldn't have a better opportunity for a long time. I concentrated. Focusing lightly on the minds in the room, I selected hers from among them. Errol was correct; her thoughts were definitely on something other than the proceedings. Now that I was trying to read them, I could catch snatches. Reaching out with an invisible hand I touched her mind. A fusion of mint flooded my mouth and then suddenly disappeared. In defense, I withdrew. However when I lifted my eyes, I found her gaze locked on me. From this distance I couldn't read the expression on her face. Her body language spoke of startled surprise.


"I take it she felt you."


"Understatement, Errol. She shut me out. The technique was raw and awkward, but she felt me and shut me out." I looked down at Errol. The amusement on his face was annoying.


"Never had that happen before I take it?"


"Not since I first began training and you know it. Usually that kind of touch goes undetected."


"I know. I suspected, but I wanted to be sure."


I watched the play of thought across Errol's face. I knew the man well enough that I rarely had to listen to his thoughts to know what was going through his mind. "Does she know?" I asked.


Errol shook his head. "Not yet. I have only just opened her mind to the idea that she might have some talent. Besides, I don't want her to know, at least not yet."


I glanced back in her direction. She was gone. "You do realize that I am going to have to go apologize and explain myself now."


"Fine," Errol replied, waving me off. "Tell her that I put you up to it. Just don't tell her everything. I want to keep her innocent as long as possible."


I nodded. I wouldn't ruin her ignorance. With it came peace, a peace that I hadn't had in years. I never forgot the heavy weight on my shoulders and I would be cautious to not lay that burden about Zezilia Ilar's slender frame any sooner than necessary.


~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zezilia


The surprise in his dark eyes was burned into my memory as the rich flavor of his mind touch still lingered in my mouth. I could not identify the taste that had flooded my senses, but I found it strangely pleasing. So that was how it felt to have someone touch one's thoughts. I tried to recall my brothers' descriptions of the experience, but none came to mind. I guess I never pestered them with questions about it like I had about fishing, hunting, and playing Korkta.


I hoped that the cool night air would clear my senses. However, I found that even the delicious pleasure of walking at night alone in the High King's gardens did not distract me. My thoughts kept returning to the tall man with the startled eyes. What was he doing speaking with Master Silas? There had to be a connection between the two of them. I sank onto a bench along the path and tried to organize the rampage in my head. I knew too little to wrestle it into a shape I recognized.


"Donellea Ilar."


I was so startled that I jumped to my feet and ran three steps before colliding with someone solid. Arms came up to steady me. Once he was sure that I wasn't going to fall, he stepped away.


"I am sorry to startle you for the second time," he said, bowing to me. His voice was low and rich like the taste left by his mind touch. I simply stared at him. "I seem to be acting like a great oaf tonight, first intruding upon your thoughts in the assembly and now startling you out of your musings."


It took me a moment to find my tongue. "That is alright, Master…"


"Aleron," he supplied. He smiled. "I am Hadrian Aleron."


"Master Aleron," I repeated, "I seem too much in my thoughts tonight."


"Nonsense," he protested. "It is rude to touch someone's thoughts without their permission. Master Silas asked me to test you to see if you have talent. I meant to only brush your mind, not to startle you. Please accept my apology and allow me to make it up to you with a tour of the gardens."


I blushed. Thankfully the darkness disguised the color. "Surely you don't mean tonight."


He laughed; it was a warm sound. "No, I do not mean tonight. I was thinking more of tomorrow morning before the heat reaches its height. What do you say?"


To be honest, I was not sure what to say. My impression in the light of the candelabras had been that he was about the age of Clovis or Blandone, my second and third brothers. That made him at least nine or ten years my senior. Though my parents wouldn't think it odd that a man would be interested in me, I did. I was after all only fifteen.


"Are you sure you wish to be seen with me?" I blurted out.


He laughed again. "Yes, Donellea, I wish to make up for my blunders this evening. I have twice been terribly rude. If Clovis or Blandone got wind of my behavior, they would give me a dressing down. Now, please consent so that I may avoid crossing paths with your brothers' ire."


"I doubt Blan would give you much trouble, but I can understand your concern about Clovis," I agreed. Clovis was a well known warrior, excelling in all forms of fighting. As formidable as Master Aleron looked to me, I was certain that Clovis would be able to make minced pie out of him. "I consent," I said with as much regality as I could, offering my hand as I had seen Mother do.


"Thank you, my dear Donellea," he replied. Taking my hand he lifted it to his mouth and then flabbergasted me by kissing it. "Now allow me to escort you to the safety of the well-lit palazzo. I can hear the first strains of the dancing music and I am sure there will be many waiting to watch you dance."


I let him lead me back to the golden glowing windows of the assembly room, but I refused his offer of an escort inside. Thankfully some young men he knew appeared just then and I was able to slip off unnoticed.


~~~~~~~~~~~~


© 2011 Rachel Rossano


Return to the Romance Blogfest

Wren's Adventure Sprinkled with a Dash of Romance

Wren's newest chapter is up and it is packed full: adventure, action, developing romance, and much more. Just in time for Valentine's Day. Please stop by and comment.

- Rachel Rossano

Ruarc Ethan Arrives with a Yell!

I just finished the first draft of Ruarc's debut. Read on, and please tell me what you think.

Excerpt from the revised The Crown of Anavrea:
"I demand an audience with Eve Ethan."


A loud voice broke through the hushed corridors on the first floor. Almost all the children were romping outside, making the best use of the brief hour before dinner. Labren, resting in Professor Olof's office lifted his head from a tome chronicling the genealogy of the Theodorics. If Ireic was set on offering him the crown, Labren intended on finding an alternate possibility.


"You shall not speak to any one if you do not regulate your volume, sir." Han's voice carried despite the even tones.


"I will not quiet down until I get Eve."


Labren attempted to stand without the assistance of the desk. He managed, but pain sluiced through his thigh. A deep breath steadied him as he waited for the discomfort to settle to a dull ache. "Bring him in, Han," he called.


"Come this way," Han directed.


"I know Eve is here. They turned off at the crossroads and this is the first place on this road that has a wagon…." The man's voice trailed off upon setting his gaze on Labren. "You!" The man lunged forward.


Labren staggered a step, his bad leg almost collapsing beneath him. He grabbed the back of the chair for balance.


Ruarc's icy blue eyes spewed hatred. If Han didn't keep his restraining hand on the man's compact shoulder, he would have seized Labren.


"Where is my sister?"


About hand's span shorter than Han, the man was built like a wall. Massive shoulders, solid chest, and well-muscled arms. His movements declared a skilled quickness on his feet and comfort in his own skin few men possessed. Labren scanned his face searching for a familial resemblance, but was hard pressed to find one beyond the blond hair and perhaps something about the set of his eyes.


"I demand to see my sister."


"You can demand all you want, sir, but you cannot assail this man."


"I have cause."


Han's eyebrows rose.


Labren frowned. "What cause would that be?"


"Kidnapping of my sister from her owner."


"I didn't kidnap her."


Approaching footfalls outside interrupted any further conversation. Not that they were really accomplishing much with the words they had exchanged thus far. Professor Olof appeared in the doorway, Eve at his heel.


Labren watched her face intently as she entered the room.


"I understand…" Professor Olof's voice was lost to the mutual cries of joy and relief from the siblings.


"Ruarc!"


Eve bypassed the Professor and ran into the stranger's out flung arms. The unfettered euphoria of her expression banished all doubt of the man's relation to her. Simultaneously, Labren's gut gave a terrible wrench. His knuckles whitened as his fingers dug into the upholstery. If only she would look that overjoy at his appearing.


"I thought I would never see you again," Ruarc told her, cradling her face between his hands. "I came to rescue you from Mridle only to find you gone, stolen away by some criminal, dragged into harms' way." He pulled her into a massive hug. "Now put your mind at rest, little sister. I shall free you from this…" He uttered a word that Labren had only heard used by the roughest of the seadogs. Professor Olof's eyebrows rose and Han coughed. "He has no hold on you."


Eve tried to speak, but Ruarc shushed her. "Now, villain…" Eve's brother turned and pinned Labren with a frigid glare. "Will you release her or do I need to call upon the law to deal with you."


Han stepped forward and opened his mouth, but Eve beat him to it.


"You don't understand."


"No, sister, you are the one who doesn't understand." Without dropping his glare from Labren, Ruarc pulled Eve behind him and pull out a knife. "You are coming with me."


Balancing precariously, white fire searing his thigh, Labren raised both hands to hip level, showing the man his palms.


"She is not going anywhere," Professor Olof interjected.


"Would you attack an unarmed man?" Han asked.


"Remember what Father taught you. Listen!" Ruarc ignored her, raising his knife slightly higher.


Eve ripped her hand from Ruarc's grasp. Frustration sparked green fire in her eyes. "Ruarc Ethan, you aren't listening."


Ruarc swung to face her. The mask of focused determination slipped and wariness flickered across his features. "Listening."


"I am free." Her voice weighed heavy in the room. "Look!" She pulled back the collar of her dress to reveal her bare collarbone. "He already freed me. I am his wife. It was my choice, Ruarc. I choose to stay."


A slow dawn spread across her brother's face. "So, he didn't steal you?"


"From Mridle's perspective, perhaps, he did. From mine, I was freed."


"But he is a criminal."


"Wrongly accused," Han pointed out before Labren's tongue formed a sound.


"The man from the caravan said he abused you."


"Let me guess his name," Eve offered, "Ulysses?"


"He was the one harassing her," Labren protested.


Ruarc glared at him. Distrust still hung between them. Labren didn't completely blame him.


Eve crossed to Labren and slipped an arm around his waist. "You are pale. Sit before you fall over," she whispered, guiding him back to the chair.


"But…" Ruarc's voice faded to silence.


Labren wanted to protest and remain standing, but a sudden wave of lightheadedness cut off the possibility. "What a way to feel useless," he muttered. "A brother-in-law I never knew I had threatens to abduct my wife and all I can do is struggle not to pass out at his feet."


"He becomes a bit intense at times."


"Intense?" The room shifted. Labren dropped his head between his knees, thankful for the gentle pressure of Eve's hand on his shoulder.


"Perhaps Labren and Eve can explain everything at another time." Professor Olof suggested from the other side of the room. "We have refreshment and a room to rest in if you should need…"


"I am not leaving Eve with that man." Ruarc replied.


"I understand that. However, Labren needs her now."


"May I suggest a tray be brought here," Han suggested.


"Labren should be in bed," Professor Olof pointed out.


"What is wrong with the bloke anyway?"


"Recent injuries are affecting his health." Professor Olof pulled out a chair from the wall. "Will you please have a seat? I will gather something from the kitchen."


Ruarc settled in the seat, but Labren could still feel the steely pressure of his glare.


"Are there any other family members of yours I should know about?"


"No." Slender fingers slipped through his hair, lulling him toward sleep. "Our parents are dead, we only have each other."


It was a feeling Labren couldn't quite relate to. Ireic and he had never been particularly close, more from their parent's choices theirs. It was hard to have a relationship of any kind while physically miles apart. Besides, the price on his head didn't help matters.


© 2011 Rachel Rossano
So...what did you think?Is he likeable?Do you want to know more?Please let me know. :)
- Rachel Rossano