Denise Covey's Blog, page 11
June 19, 2018
#WEPff challenge - UNRAVELED YARN - My yarn, A Thirst Before Dying.
It's time for the Write...Edit...Publish challenge again. Open to all, this month the prompt is UNRAVELED YARN.
I've chosen to re-post a story I wrote for #FridayFlash several years ago. I've done some re-imagining as I thought of it right away when I saw the challenge.A Thirst Before Dying is a TALL STORY set in the Queensland outback. I was actually born on the edge of the Queensland Outback, so I love writing about it.I've added some images of Australia for you, which will be helpful if you know little/nothing about our culture, especially our indigenous culture.
Indigenous Australians are not only the most profoundly disadvantaged group in Australian society, some say in the world, but they're certainly the most discriminated against because they're misunderstood. There are some references in this story you may not get, but suffice to say in Colonial Australia, Aboriginals were often referred to by a collective title, 'Jacky-Jacky' and Aboriginals used to wryly call themselves 'King George' after the English king at this time. Of course, Indigenous Australians ran rings around the 'white ghosts' when it came to surviving the outback. If you want to know more about surviving in the outback, watch the Australian movie, Rabbit-Proof Fence, the true story of three little girls who followed the outback rabbit-proof fence for nine weeks, covering 1,500 miles (2,400 klms) to return to their community after being snatched during the Stolen Children debacle . So, here's one of my favorite stories, told in a sort-of stream-of-consciousness way...
Aboriginal Rock Art
A Thirst Before Dying
You don’t want me to stay with you?
No. I’d prefer to be alone.
I could stay…until…
No, it’s best to leave now, Herb. Find a way out of this god-forsaken country.
Look, Paddy, there’s water down the valley. I know it. I’ll come back with some.
Don’t worry about me, matey. Listen to me croak. Let’s invent our own bush lore — every man for himself. None of this laying down your life for your mate…
I feel bad…
No need, Herb. Just go and let me get on with it. You’d be a silly bugger to stay here. You’re the lucky one. You know I haven’t got a snowflake’s chance in hell of surviving. I’m roasting from the inside out. I’m done for…
But…Paddy…
Go, you ugly bugger. Wipe that doleful look off your face. Get on with it. At least one of us silly buggers will survive.
Look, it’s my fault. I was the one who got us lost. I thought I knew where I was...
Turns out you didn’t, but we aren’t the first and we won’t be the last to be tricked by the Australian bush. We broke every rule—walking away from the car, not enough water, then I go and break my bloody leg to boot. No chance of me getting out of here. Think about it. Go!
***I woke to throbbing in my busted leg. I screamed as I rolled over, took deep breaths, tried not to pass out. How fat it’d gotten while I drowsed. I lay there, trying to will myself to feel nothing even though the sun was frying me like an egg on a car bonnet.
How will it feel to die of thirst?
I read in National Geographic about an old salt who survived seven days in the Arizona desert without water. Well, it’s about three days for me so far and I know I’m not going to break Mr Valencia’s record.
I ran my tongue around my mouth…saliva thick as paste. My tongue clung to my teeth and the roof of my mouth. A golf ball in my throat. My head and neck throbbed like I'd been hit with a golf club.
I started working on the strokes to perfect my golf handicap. A completely useless activity, but it helped take my mind off the pain.
My face felt like a full moon and my skin was like crackly parchment. Before long I’d be a raving lunatic. Hallucinating. Please don’t let me be around when that happens.
It was a tossup between pain and thirst.
Which would kill me?
***I’d fallen to my side while I slept. Was I going to die lolling around like some old abandoned guy in a nursing home? With a few grunts and groans I managed to heave myself up and prop my back against the red sandy rock.
The dry valley spread before me, shimmering in the heat. I swore I saw water, but I knew a mirage when I saw one. The red and ochre of the steep gorges soothed me, taking my mind off the possibilities of that inland sea.
I’ve always loved this country, especially the outback. Unforgiving though. Only the toughest survive. Add smartest to that. Not smart to get lost, run out of petrol, run out of water.
Old Herb. I hoped he’d been smart enough to find water by now or he’d be propping up a rock too, or roasting in the sand like a pig on a spit.
***
My eyes were just slits, but I watched a pair of wedge-tailed eagles fly between the harsh blue sky and the ochre cliffs like children at play. I kept vigil like a protective parent.
It was a brutal world out here in the desert. I waved my arm around the red valley: I hereby name you ‘Tarrangaua’. It meant ‘rough red hill’ in Aborigine. I smiled to myself, feeling smart as King George.
A thick pain punched my chest. There was a whooshing in my ears.
Here comes the deafness...
A crunching sound reverberated around my head. I swear the rock shook, so I must have reached the hallucinating stage. Didn't even need a pill! Gave them up years ago. I grinned, feeling my gums and teeth protrude like some zombie's.
‘What you doin’ sittin’ here in the sun, you silly bugger? Hardly Bondi Beach, you bum.’
My time had come. Looming over me was the Grim Reaper. A wobbly outline of a face. I blinked and it morphed into the ace of spades…with hair and beard white as snow. Topped with an Akubra hat with silver studs glinting in the sun.
‘Jacky-Jacky?’ Every Australian knows an Aboriginal tracker is called Jacky-Jacky, even a city slicker like me.
‘No mate, I’m not Jacky-Jacky. I’m Mr Theodore White, but who’s askin’? Looks like you could use some help before you turn into one tough piece of steak.’
‘Hey, I’m King George,’ I said only half-joking. Who am I again?
‘That's my line. He died long ago, mate. You don’t wanna be him.’
He cradled my head in one of his massive black hands and let me take a few sips from his coolamon.
CoolamonThe water tasted real enough. Its coolness was the most beautiful thing. But I had trouble slugging it past that golf ball in my throat.
‘That’s enough, King George. Only a drop at a time or it’ll kill ya.’
I tried not to cry like a baby when he took the bottle away.
‘Found ya old mate.’ He tended my leg with ancient Aboriginal lore guiding his hands.
‘What? Who?’ I rasped. Oh no. Old Herb.
‘Poor old bugger. Roasting in a dry riverbed down there.’ He pointed into the red valley. ‘Musta gone to sleep thinkin’ he was in the water, seein' a mirage. No savin’ him. His face was burned to a crisp. But looks like you’ll make it. Ain’t you the lucky one? No one should die alone.’
I hope you enjoyed my story. Please click on names at the top of my sidebar with DL (Direct Link) after the name. This means the story is up and ready.
Thanks for reading and commenting and sharing if you would be so kind.
I've chosen to re-post a story I wrote for #FridayFlash several years ago. I've done some re-imagining as I thought of it right away when I saw the challenge.A Thirst Before Dying is a TALL STORY set in the Queensland outback. I was actually born on the edge of the Queensland Outback, so I love writing about it.I've added some images of Australia for you, which will be helpful if you know little/nothing about our culture, especially our indigenous culture.
Indigenous Australians are not only the most profoundly disadvantaged group in Australian society, some say in the world, but they're certainly the most discriminated against because they're misunderstood. There are some references in this story you may not get, but suffice to say in Colonial Australia, Aboriginals were often referred to by a collective title, 'Jacky-Jacky' and Aboriginals used to wryly call themselves 'King George' after the English king at this time. Of course, Indigenous Australians ran rings around the 'white ghosts' when it came to surviving the outback. If you want to know more about surviving in the outback, watch the Australian movie, Rabbit-Proof Fence, the true story of three little girls who followed the outback rabbit-proof fence for nine weeks, covering 1,500 miles (2,400 klms) to return to their community after being snatched during the Stolen Children debacle . So, here's one of my favorite stories, told in a sort-of stream-of-consciousness way...
Aboriginal Rock ArtA Thirst Before Dying
You don’t want me to stay with you?
No. I’d prefer to be alone.
I could stay…until…
No, it’s best to leave now, Herb. Find a way out of this god-forsaken country.
Look, Paddy, there’s water down the valley. I know it. I’ll come back with some.
Don’t worry about me, matey. Listen to me croak. Let’s invent our own bush lore — every man for himself. None of this laying down your life for your mate…
I feel bad…
No need, Herb. Just go and let me get on with it. You’d be a silly bugger to stay here. You’re the lucky one. You know I haven’t got a snowflake’s chance in hell of surviving. I’m roasting from the inside out. I’m done for…
But…Paddy…
Go, you ugly bugger. Wipe that doleful look off your face. Get on with it. At least one of us silly buggers will survive.
Look, it’s my fault. I was the one who got us lost. I thought I knew where I was...
Turns out you didn’t, but we aren’t the first and we won’t be the last to be tricked by the Australian bush. We broke every rule—walking away from the car, not enough water, then I go and break my bloody leg to boot. No chance of me getting out of here. Think about it. Go!
***I woke to throbbing in my busted leg. I screamed as I rolled over, took deep breaths, tried not to pass out. How fat it’d gotten while I drowsed. I lay there, trying to will myself to feel nothing even though the sun was frying me like an egg on a car bonnet.
How will it feel to die of thirst?
I read in National Geographic about an old salt who survived seven days in the Arizona desert without water. Well, it’s about three days for me so far and I know I’m not going to break Mr Valencia’s record.
I ran my tongue around my mouth…saliva thick as paste. My tongue clung to my teeth and the roof of my mouth. A golf ball in my throat. My head and neck throbbed like I'd been hit with a golf club.
I started working on the strokes to perfect my golf handicap. A completely useless activity, but it helped take my mind off the pain.
My face felt like a full moon and my skin was like crackly parchment. Before long I’d be a raving lunatic. Hallucinating. Please don’t let me be around when that happens.
It was a tossup between pain and thirst.
Which would kill me?
***I’d fallen to my side while I slept. Was I going to die lolling around like some old abandoned guy in a nursing home? With a few grunts and groans I managed to heave myself up and prop my back against the red sandy rock.
The dry valley spread before me, shimmering in the heat. I swore I saw water, but I knew a mirage when I saw one. The red and ochre of the steep gorges soothed me, taking my mind off the possibilities of that inland sea.
I’ve always loved this country, especially the outback. Unforgiving though. Only the toughest survive. Add smartest to that. Not smart to get lost, run out of petrol, run out of water.
Old Herb. I hoped he’d been smart enough to find water by now or he’d be propping up a rock too, or roasting in the sand like a pig on a spit.
***
My eyes were just slits, but I watched a pair of wedge-tailed eagles fly between the harsh blue sky and the ochre cliffs like children at play. I kept vigil like a protective parent.
It was a brutal world out here in the desert. I waved my arm around the red valley: I hereby name you ‘Tarrangaua’. It meant ‘rough red hill’ in Aborigine. I smiled to myself, feeling smart as King George.
A thick pain punched my chest. There was a whooshing in my ears.
Here comes the deafness...
A crunching sound reverberated around my head. I swear the rock shook, so I must have reached the hallucinating stage. Didn't even need a pill! Gave them up years ago. I grinned, feeling my gums and teeth protrude like some zombie's.
‘What you doin’ sittin’ here in the sun, you silly bugger? Hardly Bondi Beach, you bum.’
My time had come. Looming over me was the Grim Reaper. A wobbly outline of a face. I blinked and it morphed into the ace of spades…with hair and beard white as snow. Topped with an Akubra hat with silver studs glinting in the sun.
‘Jacky-Jacky?’ Every Australian knows an Aboriginal tracker is called Jacky-Jacky, even a city slicker like me.
‘No mate, I’m not Jacky-Jacky. I’m Mr Theodore White, but who’s askin’? Looks like you could use some help before you turn into one tough piece of steak.’
‘Hey, I’m King George,’ I said only half-joking. Who am I again?
‘That's my line. He died long ago, mate. You don’t wanna be him.’
He cradled my head in one of his massive black hands and let me take a few sips from his coolamon.
CoolamonThe water tasted real enough. Its coolness was the most beautiful thing. But I had trouble slugging it past that golf ball in my throat.‘That’s enough, King George. Only a drop at a time or it’ll kill ya.’
I tried not to cry like a baby when he took the bottle away.
‘Found ya old mate.’ He tended my leg with ancient Aboriginal lore guiding his hands.
‘What? Who?’ I rasped. Oh no. Old Herb.
‘Poor old bugger. Roasting in a dry riverbed down there.’ He pointed into the red valley. ‘Musta gone to sleep thinkin’ he was in the water, seein' a mirage. No savin’ him. His face was burned to a crisp. But looks like you’ll make it. Ain’t you the lucky one? No one should die alone.’
I hope you enjoyed my story. Please click on names at the top of my sidebar with DL (Direct Link) after the name. This means the story is up and ready.
Thanks for reading and commenting and sharing if you would be so kind.
June 5, 2018
#IWSG post - BOOK TITLES or CHARACTER NAMES - Nah, let's promote much-loved blogger C. Lee McKenzie's new book instead!
Hello all!
Welcome to the #IWSG for June. Hope your month has been awesome and you got plenty of writing done, whether outlining your next book, writing your current book, or planning your series.
Thanks to Alex's awesome co-hosts for the June 6 posting of the IWSG are Beverly Stowe McClure,Tyrean Martinson, and Ellen @ The Cynical Sailor!
Thanks for taking the time to help out, team. I hope you get lots of visitors today.
So much to do, so little time. Which brings me to the June 6 question - What's harder for you to come up with, book titles or character names.
Well, my response to that question was a bore a minute, so I was waiting for some inspiration for my post, when I caught on L Diane Wolfe;s FB timeline that C. Lee McKenzie, that much-loved blogger has lost her husband just as she launched her latest book. Several bloggers have come to the rescue as C. Lee is hardly up for book promotion. I'm honored to do something that may help C. Lee (I call her Clem) at this time.
[image error]
SOME VERY MESSY MEDIEVAL MAGIC
By C. Lee McKenzie
Pete’s stuck in medieval England!
Pete and his friend Weasel thought they’d closed the Time Lock. But a young page from medieval times, Peter of Bramwell, goes missing. His absence during a critical moment will forever alter history unless he’s found.
There’s only one solution - fledgling wizard Pete must take the page’s place. Accompanied by Weasel and Fanon, Pete’s alligator familiar, they travel to 1173 England.
But what if the page remains lost - will Pete know what to do when the critical moment arrives? Toss in a grumpy Fanon, the duke’s curious niece, a talking horse, and the Circle of Stones and Pete realizes he’s in over his young wizard head yet again...
Juvenile Fiction - Fantasy & Magic/Boys & Men$13.95 Print ISBN 9781939844460$3.99 EBook ISBN 9781939844477
C Lee McKenzie has a background in Linguistics and Inter-Cultural Communication, but these days her greatest passion is writing for young readers. When she’s not writing she’s hiking or traveling or practicing yoga or asking a lot questions about things she still doesn’t understand. http://cleemckenziebooks.com
Links:
Barnes & Noble - https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/some-very-messy-medieval-magic-c-lee-mckenzie/1127622061?ean=2940154648575
Kobo - https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/some-very-messy-medieval-magic
iTunes - https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/some-very-messy-medieval-magic/id1324257652?mt=11Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Some-Very-Messy-Medieval-Magic/dp/1939844460/Kindle - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079V72G8RFoyles - http://www.foyles.co.uk/witem/childrens/some-very-messy-medieval-magic,c-lee-mckenzie-9781939844460Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/37537343-some-very-messy-medieval-magic
Available now - Some Very Messy Medieval Magic by @cleemckenzie Barnes & Noblehttps://tinyurl.com/y8lessr9 iTunes https://tinyurl.com/yaz4sqb6 Amazonhttps://tinyurl.com/y92g67q5 #middlegrade #magic Now I hope you'll give C. Lee's new book a look!
Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your loved ones at this time, C. Lee.
If you feel like a writing challenge to refresh your writing, please join us for the June WEP challenge which opened for submissions on June 1st.
Unraveled Yarn! No, we’re not necessarily talking knitting and crochet. A yarn is a long and rambling, often improbable, story. But we’re not talking long and improbable, a crisp and convincing flash in whatever genre you choose is what we’re after. We are open to everything, except erotica.
Serenity, meet Disaster. A lie found out, the unpicking of a tall tale. A crime taking an unexpected turn. A bad-hair day. An ordinary walk spiraling into a crisis. A romantic encounter ending in chaos. Take your pick with the unpicking. And have fun! And get feedback on your writing!
PHOTO INSPIRATION: SUNSET OVER NICE IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE, ONE OF MY FAVORITE PLACES IN THE WORLD,
Welcome to the #IWSG for June. Hope your month has been awesome and you got plenty of writing done, whether outlining your next book, writing your current book, or planning your series.
Thanks to Alex's awesome co-hosts for the June 6 posting of the IWSG are Beverly Stowe McClure,Tyrean Martinson, and Ellen @ The Cynical Sailor!
Thanks for taking the time to help out, team. I hope you get lots of visitors today.
So much to do, so little time. Which brings me to the June 6 question - What's harder for you to come up with, book titles or character names.
Well, my response to that question was a bore a minute, so I was waiting for some inspiration for my post, when I caught on L Diane Wolfe;s FB timeline that C. Lee McKenzie, that much-loved blogger has lost her husband just as she launched her latest book. Several bloggers have come to the rescue as C. Lee is hardly up for book promotion. I'm honored to do something that may help C. Lee (I call her Clem) at this time.
[image error]
SOME VERY MESSY MEDIEVAL MAGIC
By C. Lee McKenzie
Pete’s stuck in medieval England!
Pete and his friend Weasel thought they’d closed the Time Lock. But a young page from medieval times, Peter of Bramwell, goes missing. His absence during a critical moment will forever alter history unless he’s found.
There’s only one solution - fledgling wizard Pete must take the page’s place. Accompanied by Weasel and Fanon, Pete’s alligator familiar, they travel to 1173 England.
But what if the page remains lost - will Pete know what to do when the critical moment arrives? Toss in a grumpy Fanon, the duke’s curious niece, a talking horse, and the Circle of Stones and Pete realizes he’s in over his young wizard head yet again...
Juvenile Fiction - Fantasy & Magic/Boys & Men$13.95 Print ISBN 9781939844460$3.99 EBook ISBN 9781939844477
C Lee McKenzie has a background in Linguistics and Inter-Cultural Communication, but these days her greatest passion is writing for young readers. When she’s not writing she’s hiking or traveling or practicing yoga or asking a lot questions about things she still doesn’t understand. http://cleemckenziebooks.comLinks:
Barnes & Noble - https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/some-very-messy-medieval-magic-c-lee-mckenzie/1127622061?ean=2940154648575
Kobo - https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/some-very-messy-medieval-magic
iTunes - https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/some-very-messy-medieval-magic/id1324257652?mt=11Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Some-Very-Messy-Medieval-Magic/dp/1939844460/Kindle - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079V72G8RFoyles - http://www.foyles.co.uk/witem/childrens/some-very-messy-medieval-magic,c-lee-mckenzie-9781939844460Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/37537343-some-very-messy-medieval-magic
Available now - Some Very Messy Medieval Magic by @cleemckenzie Barnes & Noblehttps://tinyurl.com/y8lessr9 iTunes https://tinyurl.com/yaz4sqb6 Amazonhttps://tinyurl.com/y92g67q5 #middlegrade #magic Now I hope you'll give C. Lee's new book a look!
Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your loved ones at this time, C. Lee.
If you feel like a writing challenge to refresh your writing, please join us for the June WEP challenge which opened for submissions on June 1st.
Unraveled Yarn! No, we’re not necessarily talking knitting and crochet. A yarn is a long and rambling, often improbable, story. But we’re not talking long and improbable, a crisp and convincing flash in whatever genre you choose is what we’re after. We are open to everything, except erotica.
Serenity, meet Disaster. A lie found out, the unpicking of a tall tale. A crime taking an unexpected turn. A bad-hair day. An ordinary walk spiraling into a crisis. A romantic encounter ending in chaos. Take your pick with the unpicking. And have fun! And get feedback on your writing!
PHOTO INSPIRATION: SUNSET OVER NICE IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE, ONE OF MY FAVORITE PLACES IN THE WORLD,
May 1, 2018
The #IWSG - My post - ALL THOSE LOVELY RESOURCES OUT THERE TO HELP WRITERS WRITE AND PUBLISH.
Hello all!
Time for the May IWSG. Eagerly anticipated by many, it has become for some, the only time they post these days, often me included.
Thanks to Alex J Cavanaugh, bloggers, whether twice-weekly, weekly, fortnightly or monthly get together and catch up with each other in the context of 'insecurity.' A good context. Who's ever met an author who is not insecure?
Alex's awesome co-hosts for the May 2 posting of the IWSG are E.M.A. Timar, J. Q. Rose,C.Lee McKenzie, and Raimey Gallant!
I'm not going anywhere near the question of the month. Spring? That's in one half of the world. It's autumn in the other half. Down Under we write all year round. It's always hot except for a couple of weeks a year, so we can't let the weather keep us from our laptops or we'd NEVER write.
Now this post just sprung out of my head. Unplanned. I just started talking to you, and look how it ended up. Now retrospectively, I will give it a title.
ALL THOSE LOVELY RESOURCES OUT THERE TO HELP WRITERS WRITE AND PUBLISH.
Best selling authors have a charmed life compared to mid list, bottom feeders and one-book wonders. I'm addicted to reading Acknowledgements at the end of all the best sellers I read, (about 100 a year). By the time I count the author's thanks to his/her agent/s, editor/s, researchers, early readers, experts and so on, some authors acknowledge that over 40+ people have been crucial, in some way, to birthing and selling their novels. A bit like the credits at the end of a movie. You think, wow, no wonder it was so good, or I wonder why it wasn't better?
We bottom feeders (or however you categorize yourself) are pretty much alone in birthing our books. But WE ARE NOT ALONE. This is who I acknowledge so far on my wobbly journey toward multiple publication in between reading a copious amount of books.
Craft websites such as K.M. Weiland or Kristen Lamb and others, too many to mention, who offer golden nuggets to authors for FREE or offer reasonably-priced online courses. Sure, some of the advice can be contradictory, and some craft posts are for writers at certain stages of their career. But there's always a take out from these generous souls. Bloggers who have guest authors or agents who freely share their journey/advice/encouragement. Literary Rambles and Nas Dean come to mind. You are very generous, Natalie and Nas. Golden Blogger Award! Bloggers who have published multiple books . I find you intriguing, seeing the different ways you promote yourselves. And what a surprise when one of your books turns up in my local library all the way Down Under. Thinking Susan Kelley...Depending on where you are in your writing career, Facebook Groups (I hate to mention this greedy global spy but it does have its uses) can be worth their weight in gold. I've only ever self-published one novel and only on Amazon and left it there to die a natural death, but due to haunting FB sites like 20booksto50k (I've mentioned it here before), I learn that it could be advantageous to have several books available (suggested number is 6) before hitting Publish. Joanna Penn said the same thing when she came to Oz last year. Draft2Digital is awesome with their advice and how they will promote you on as many platforms as you like. They've just added Amazon to their list! Of course I'm in many other FB groups - groups where you can order covers, where you can get feedback on that all-important cover, groups who will help you with your blurb, your synopsis...everything you need to self-publish, really, or to polish your submission to a traditional publisher. Beta readers. I've found a fabulous, wild, Uk-based beta reader, who's more of an editor, really. She reads through my stories like a reader and yells at me (with my permission). She takes no prisoners. No point in a beta reader who isn't honest and she's certainly made me question every word I write and every plot point and then there's structure. Phew! Critique partners . I've struggled to find good critters for years. People who get me and my work and who are timely. At a Margie Lawson immersion class, Margie hooked me up with two other writers in our group and said we should become a critter team. We help each other create our stories and we are relentless with our work ethic and Track Changes editing and face-to-face meetings. These two have done more for my writing than ANYONE mentioned above. They helped me create my Paris novel which is with Avon and they're currently helping me write my paranormal romance trilogy. So, when I have my 6 books ready to publish under my pen name, I'll have a few acknowledgements. But 40 helpers would be sooooo nice.
Thanks for coming by. I hope you found a takeaway here.
Have a fabulous writing month!
Here's a bonus pic for coming by - Pommery Champagne House, Champagne region, France. Where else? A trip through their cellars inspires me every time.
Denise
Time for the May IWSG. Eagerly anticipated by many, it has become for some, the only time they post these days, often me included.
Thanks to Alex J Cavanaugh, bloggers, whether twice-weekly, weekly, fortnightly or monthly get together and catch up with each other in the context of 'insecurity.' A good context. Who's ever met an author who is not insecure?
Alex's awesome co-hosts for the May 2 posting of the IWSG are E.M.A. Timar, J. Q. Rose,C.Lee McKenzie, and Raimey Gallant!
I'm not going anywhere near the question of the month. Spring? That's in one half of the world. It's autumn in the other half. Down Under we write all year round. It's always hot except for a couple of weeks a year, so we can't let the weather keep us from our laptops or we'd NEVER write.
Now this post just sprung out of my head. Unplanned. I just started talking to you, and look how it ended up. Now retrospectively, I will give it a title.
ALL THOSE LOVELY RESOURCES OUT THERE TO HELP WRITERS WRITE AND PUBLISH.
Best selling authors have a charmed life compared to mid list, bottom feeders and one-book wonders. I'm addicted to reading Acknowledgements at the end of all the best sellers I read, (about 100 a year). By the time I count the author's thanks to his/her agent/s, editor/s, researchers, early readers, experts and so on, some authors acknowledge that over 40+ people have been crucial, in some way, to birthing and selling their novels. A bit like the credits at the end of a movie. You think, wow, no wonder it was so good, or I wonder why it wasn't better?
We bottom feeders (or however you categorize yourself) are pretty much alone in birthing our books. But WE ARE NOT ALONE. This is who I acknowledge so far on my wobbly journey toward multiple publication in between reading a copious amount of books.
Craft websites such as K.M. Weiland or Kristen Lamb and others, too many to mention, who offer golden nuggets to authors for FREE or offer reasonably-priced online courses. Sure, some of the advice can be contradictory, and some craft posts are for writers at certain stages of their career. But there's always a take out from these generous souls. Bloggers who have guest authors or agents who freely share their journey/advice/encouragement. Literary Rambles and Nas Dean come to mind. You are very generous, Natalie and Nas. Golden Blogger Award! Bloggers who have published multiple books . I find you intriguing, seeing the different ways you promote yourselves. And what a surprise when one of your books turns up in my local library all the way Down Under. Thinking Susan Kelley...Depending on where you are in your writing career, Facebook Groups (I hate to mention this greedy global spy but it does have its uses) can be worth their weight in gold. I've only ever self-published one novel and only on Amazon and left it there to die a natural death, but due to haunting FB sites like 20booksto50k (I've mentioned it here before), I learn that it could be advantageous to have several books available (suggested number is 6) before hitting Publish. Joanna Penn said the same thing when she came to Oz last year. Draft2Digital is awesome with their advice and how they will promote you on as many platforms as you like. They've just added Amazon to their list! Of course I'm in many other FB groups - groups where you can order covers, where you can get feedback on that all-important cover, groups who will help you with your blurb, your synopsis...everything you need to self-publish, really, or to polish your submission to a traditional publisher. Beta readers. I've found a fabulous, wild, Uk-based beta reader, who's more of an editor, really. She reads through my stories like a reader and yells at me (with my permission). She takes no prisoners. No point in a beta reader who isn't honest and she's certainly made me question every word I write and every plot point and then there's structure. Phew! Critique partners . I've struggled to find good critters for years. People who get me and my work and who are timely. At a Margie Lawson immersion class, Margie hooked me up with two other writers in our group and said we should become a critter team. We help each other create our stories and we are relentless with our work ethic and Track Changes editing and face-to-face meetings. These two have done more for my writing than ANYONE mentioned above. They helped me create my Paris novel which is with Avon and they're currently helping me write my paranormal romance trilogy. So, when I have my 6 books ready to publish under my pen name, I'll have a few acknowledgements. But 40 helpers would be sooooo nice.
Thanks for coming by. I hope you found a takeaway here.
Have a fabulous writing month!
Here's a bonus pic for coming by - Pommery Champagne House, Champagne region, France. Where else? A trip through their cellars inspires me every time.
Denise
April 12, 2018
#WEP #flashfiction, my story, LOVE SUCKS. Vamps in Paris.
Hello all!
How's your April going? I hope those participating in the A-Z Challenge are having a ball. I've enjoyed reading many of your stories, but this coming week it's all about WEP (Write...Edit...Publish) for me. The prompt is Road Less Traveled and it's a mixture of prose and some sort of poetry.
Maybe it's because I'm working furiously on my paranormal romance trilogy at the mo', but my mind flew straight to a funky little flash I wrote for Romantic Friday Writers (400 words) in 2015. The characters have haunted me, LOL, so I dragged them out of their coffins, dusted them off, and let them tell a little more of their story. They will probably find themselves on a page or two in a flash fiction book I intend to write one day!
I'm early with my post, but a few have begun to post so I'm anxious to get my little ole story on the page. Hope you enjoy...
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Top left: Drac-Kulah, Top right: DraculaBottom left: Ruby Black, aka Snow White, Bottom right: Doc Marten.
When you’ve lived for as long as moi, you crave change. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta find another way, another road. I’m done with sleeping all day in a room with velvet drapes drawn, hiding from you-know-what, microwaving blood when the street food lets me down.
What’s a vamp to do all century?
I know what you’re thinking:
Go haunt the streets, you sicko,Suck the tourists dry.Drink a few homeless. Who’s gonna miss ‘em?Who's gonna cry?
Been there, done that. I need to shake things up a bit. I need another path. One less traveled.
As the sun dropped down from that oh-so-sicko-blue sky, I exited the hotel and sashayed down Montmartre’s glitter strip, feeling ever-so-hipster-ish.
Black cap sideways,Baggy black trousers,Black T-shirt under myblack shiny coat.Hiding my black heart.You get that I dig black, right?
Love Montmartre. My current Parisian area of interest. Well, current, doh. It’s been my favorite for a coupla hundred years. Is about the only suburb not razed by that sicko Baron Haussman. I like old things. Love Montmartre.
Tourists gawking, Homeless hawking, Blackboard artist chalking:"ETERNITY".
We’re on the same page, honey-childe.
Then suddenly, next door to that garish pretending-to-be-old reinvented mill, Moulin Rouge,
I see it: ‘A VENDRE’ – (‘FOR SALE’) if you haven’t mastered the fourteenth-most-popular language in the world.
But I digress. What happened next? Hang with me. Or not.
My synapses zapped. My planets aligned. A contract to sign.
Oh, happy day! Time for a moonwalk! Slip. Slide. Slap.
I’ve accumulated a tidy sum over the centuries, you know, so I can easily afford Parisian real estate. Compound interest compounds I read somewhere. No business degrees 400 years ago.
So before you could say,
‘More blood. I’ll take it to go. Make it quick, you know?’
The business belonged to moi. If you don’t know what moi means, pfft. Work on your language skills or get outta here.
The little bar was perfect -- vamp chic –
Blood-red carpet, Black walls, (or they will be)Red bar counter, Black halls.
Suited my little black er, heart.
The pictures clinched the deal –
Horror-movie postersMurder and mayhemon every wall.Go me.
Buying this joint means I’ll no longer have to prowl the mean streets. The gendarmes can move on. Fight real crime. But now I got me my own gloomy little hidey-hole.
Let ‘em come to me. Bar flies are tasteeeFull of good ole whiskeeau go go.
‘Ya not going to run this place by yaself, are ya?’
I jumped from dreaming of bar flies and admiring my Dracula poster which was so like looking in the mirror – Just kidding!
Black cloak, Super handsome face, Super handsome long locksI’m ace!Not that dude.
But like, wow! This chicka! Will you look at her! Just promenaded down my 15th Century wonkedy-wonkedy stairs! Right into my Venus fly trap.
Flowing black tresses, Lush curves pouredinto little black dress, Black fishnet stockings. Oh so shocking!
‘You offering your services, er, miss?’ I licked my lips. Tried not to look too obvious. “Ya, moi, who else? Ya blind or somethin’? I thought those black glasses ya wearin’ were, ya know, to hide ya red eyes.’ This chicka was something else. If only she knew. Something more serious than the old chanvre (look it up!) going on here. ‘You look, like, twelve years of old. Shoot me some ID.’ I sunk into my oversized red leather chair. She whipped out the plastic. ‘Looks can be deceivin’, busta. Ya look, like, nineteen, but ya might have baggy eyes behind those shades.’ She winked at me, cheeky minx. I took them off so she could admire my handsomeness. I flipped the ID back at her, watched it twirl in its arc and land in her white little dewdrop hand. Fake as, who cared? I licked my lips, again. Gotta stop that. I ran my tongue around my teeth, getting ready for the big suck. I want this girl-child. She’s def on the menu tonight. ‘What d’ya think, Monsieur Slim Shady? I bin workin’ bars for many a yaah. Know sum tricks, I do.’ ‘It’s not that kind of bar. It’ll be a clean operation. And speak English or French or something. You’re a cross between American Western and Eliza Dolittle.’ ‘Forgit the pop culture, Pop. A clean operation?’ ‘Drinks, tapas, music…’ ‘Rap? Classical? Country? What do French people like?’ ‘Never mind. Too long a story for now. What’s your name?’ I clasped her black-gloved hand. ‘I’m Drac Kulah.’ ‘Really? A dark character.’ ‘Really.’ I hope she digged the deep, dark tone. ‘Well I’m Ruby Black, but I go by—’ ‘Let me think. Snow White?’ ‘Right on Drac. Hilaarrious. Aren’t we a pair!’ ‘You’re hired. No funny business or you’ll be out on your pretty butt.’ ‘My butt’s pretty? I don't think ya s'posed ta say that anymore.’ She twirled.
Black lacy dress flowinglike wavesaround her thighs.A tantalizing glimpse ofshapely snow-white leg and a flash of lacy black knickers. But her Doc Marten’s are kickers.
‘That’s not all I got.’ She sidled up and grabbed me around the neck, her gloved fingers tugging my black 'do. Who needs to go hunting? This tasty morsel’s mine. Right here. Right now. A gift from er, the gods. An entrée before the main.
Woo hoo to me. Boo hoo for her.
Taking her in my steely arms, I aimed my sharp little popping-down fangs at her jugular, then…wow! Where’s her throbbing pulse! Where’s my drink?‘Ha, I knew ya were the Real Slim Shady, you dark, evil, blood-suckin’ sicko.’ I knew the minute she walked in, but you probably think I’m lying. As if a vamp would lie. I’ve learned a thing or two in 400 years. I know everything. I’ve read all the literature on the planet. Just wanted to see how this new road played out. Like that Robert Frost guy said in a poem I read on the internet, "two roads diverged". Then whammo!
WORDS: 994
FCA
Hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it. This is a WEP (Write...Edit...Publish) post for the April WEP challenge, Road Less Traveled. After leaving a comment please click on other participants in my right-hand sidebar with a DL (Direct Link) after the name. This means they've published. Or travel over to WEP and sign up there.
How's your April going? I hope those participating in the A-Z Challenge are having a ball. I've enjoyed reading many of your stories, but this coming week it's all about WEP (Write...Edit...Publish) for me. The prompt is Road Less Traveled and it's a mixture of prose and some sort of poetry.
Maybe it's because I'm working furiously on my paranormal romance trilogy at the mo', but my mind flew straight to a funky little flash I wrote for Romantic Friday Writers (400 words) in 2015. The characters have haunted me, LOL, so I dragged them out of their coffins, dusted them off, and let them tell a little more of their story. They will probably find themselves on a page or two in a flash fiction book I intend to write one day!
I'm early with my post, but a few have begun to post so I'm anxious to get my little ole story on the page. Hope you enjoy...
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Top left: Drac-Kulah, Top right: DraculaBottom left: Ruby Black, aka Snow White, Bottom right: Doc Marten.When you’ve lived for as long as moi, you crave change. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta find another way, another road. I’m done with sleeping all day in a room with velvet drapes drawn, hiding from you-know-what, microwaving blood when the street food lets me down.
What’s a vamp to do all century?
I know what you’re thinking:
Go haunt the streets, you sicko,Suck the tourists dry.Drink a few homeless. Who’s gonna miss ‘em?Who's gonna cry?
Been there, done that. I need to shake things up a bit. I need another path. One less traveled.
As the sun dropped down from that oh-so-sicko-blue sky, I exited the hotel and sashayed down Montmartre’s glitter strip, feeling ever-so-hipster-ish.
Black cap sideways,Baggy black trousers,Black T-shirt under myblack shiny coat.Hiding my black heart.You get that I dig black, right?
Love Montmartre. My current Parisian area of interest. Well, current, doh. It’s been my favorite for a coupla hundred years. Is about the only suburb not razed by that sicko Baron Haussman. I like old things. Love Montmartre.
Tourists gawking, Homeless hawking, Blackboard artist chalking:"ETERNITY".
We’re on the same page, honey-childe.
Then suddenly, next door to that garish pretending-to-be-old reinvented mill, Moulin Rouge,
I see it: ‘A VENDRE’ – (‘FOR SALE’) if you haven’t mastered the fourteenth-most-popular language in the world.
But I digress. What happened next? Hang with me. Or not.
My synapses zapped. My planets aligned. A contract to sign.
Oh, happy day! Time for a moonwalk! Slip. Slide. Slap.
I’ve accumulated a tidy sum over the centuries, you know, so I can easily afford Parisian real estate. Compound interest compounds I read somewhere. No business degrees 400 years ago.
So before you could say,
‘More blood. I’ll take it to go. Make it quick, you know?’
The business belonged to moi. If you don’t know what moi means, pfft. Work on your language skills or get outta here.
The little bar was perfect -- vamp chic –
Blood-red carpet, Black walls, (or they will be)Red bar counter, Black halls.
Suited my little black er, heart.
The pictures clinched the deal –
Horror-movie postersMurder and mayhemon every wall.Go me.
Buying this joint means I’ll no longer have to prowl the mean streets. The gendarmes can move on. Fight real crime. But now I got me my own gloomy little hidey-hole.
Let ‘em come to me. Bar flies are tasteeeFull of good ole whiskeeau go go.
‘Ya not going to run this place by yaself, are ya?’
I jumped from dreaming of bar flies and admiring my Dracula poster which was so like looking in the mirror – Just kidding!
Black cloak, Super handsome face, Super handsome long locksI’m ace!Not that dude.
But like, wow! This chicka! Will you look at her! Just promenaded down my 15th Century wonkedy-wonkedy stairs! Right into my Venus fly trap.
Flowing black tresses, Lush curves pouredinto little black dress, Black fishnet stockings. Oh so shocking!
‘You offering your services, er, miss?’ I licked my lips. Tried not to look too obvious. “Ya, moi, who else? Ya blind or somethin’? I thought those black glasses ya wearin’ were, ya know, to hide ya red eyes.’ This chicka was something else. If only she knew. Something more serious than the old chanvre (look it up!) going on here. ‘You look, like, twelve years of old. Shoot me some ID.’ I sunk into my oversized red leather chair. She whipped out the plastic. ‘Looks can be deceivin’, busta. Ya look, like, nineteen, but ya might have baggy eyes behind those shades.’ She winked at me, cheeky minx. I took them off so she could admire my handsomeness. I flipped the ID back at her, watched it twirl in its arc and land in her white little dewdrop hand. Fake as, who cared? I licked my lips, again. Gotta stop that. I ran my tongue around my teeth, getting ready for the big suck. I want this girl-child. She’s def on the menu tonight. ‘What d’ya think, Monsieur Slim Shady? I bin workin’ bars for many a yaah. Know sum tricks, I do.’ ‘It’s not that kind of bar. It’ll be a clean operation. And speak English or French or something. You’re a cross between American Western and Eliza Dolittle.’ ‘Forgit the pop culture, Pop. A clean operation?’ ‘Drinks, tapas, music…’ ‘Rap? Classical? Country? What do French people like?’ ‘Never mind. Too long a story for now. What’s your name?’ I clasped her black-gloved hand. ‘I’m Drac Kulah.’ ‘Really? A dark character.’ ‘Really.’ I hope she digged the deep, dark tone. ‘Well I’m Ruby Black, but I go by—’ ‘Let me think. Snow White?’ ‘Right on Drac. Hilaarrious. Aren’t we a pair!’ ‘You’re hired. No funny business or you’ll be out on your pretty butt.’ ‘My butt’s pretty? I don't think ya s'posed ta say that anymore.’ She twirled.
Black lacy dress flowinglike wavesaround her thighs.A tantalizing glimpse ofshapely snow-white leg and a flash of lacy black knickers. But her Doc Marten’s are kickers.
‘That’s not all I got.’ She sidled up and grabbed me around the neck, her gloved fingers tugging my black 'do. Who needs to go hunting? This tasty morsel’s mine. Right here. Right now. A gift from er, the gods. An entrée before the main.
Woo hoo to me. Boo hoo for her.
Taking her in my steely arms, I aimed my sharp little popping-down fangs at her jugular, then…wow! Where’s her throbbing pulse! Where’s my drink?‘Ha, I knew ya were the Real Slim Shady, you dark, evil, blood-suckin’ sicko.’ I knew the minute she walked in, but you probably think I’m lying. As if a vamp would lie. I’ve learned a thing or two in 400 years. I know everything. I’ve read all the literature on the planet. Just wanted to see how this new road played out. Like that Robert Frost guy said in a poem I read on the internet, "two roads diverged". Then whammo!
WORDS: 994
FCA
Hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it. This is a WEP (Write...Edit...Publish) post for the April WEP challenge, Road Less Traveled. After leaving a comment please click on other participants in my right-hand sidebar with a DL (Direct Link) after the name. This means they've published. Or travel over to WEP and sign up there.
April 6, 2018
#A-ZChallenge post from the WEP team. #Flashfiction for G is for GENRE!
Hello all!
J Lenni Dorner, who often participates in the WEP challenges, offered WEP (Write…Edit…Publish) April 7, “G” day, for a post of 500 words. The WEP team currently consists of four writers – Denise Covey, Yolanda Renée, Olga Godim and Nilanjana Bose - who all write in different genres. For inspiration for today’s collaborative post, we used an amazing picture of a sign. Thanks Celia Reaves for permission to use the image.
Each of the team wrote 100-ish words in their preferred GENRE:Olga, MAGIC,Nilanjana, POETRY, Renee, HORROR, Denise, PARANORMAL ROMANCE.
Go HERE to read the collaborative post...it's a lot of fun...
If you like the sound of WEP and would like to write for us, whether #flashfiction, #poetry, #non-fiction, #essays, #photography or #artwork, there's time. Our current prompt, ROAD LESS TRAVELED, goes live on April 18th, and we're happy to receive early or moderately late submissions. If you're participating in the #AtoAChallenge you can double the fun by using the day's letter.Go HERE for ideas...You can sign up in my sidebar or on the WEP site, or anywhere you see the sign up.
Denise, Nila, Olga & Renée
Enjoy the rest of crazy April!
J Lenni Dorner, who often participates in the WEP challenges, offered WEP (Write…Edit…Publish) April 7, “G” day, for a post of 500 words. The WEP team currently consists of four writers – Denise Covey, Yolanda Renée, Olga Godim and Nilanjana Bose - who all write in different genres. For inspiration for today’s collaborative post, we used an amazing picture of a sign. Thanks Celia Reaves for permission to use the image.
Each of the team wrote 100-ish words in their preferred GENRE:Olga, MAGIC,Nilanjana, POETRY, Renee, HORROR, Denise, PARANORMAL ROMANCE.
Go HERE to read the collaborative post...it's a lot of fun...
If you like the sound of WEP and would like to write for us, whether #flashfiction, #poetry, #non-fiction, #essays, #photography or #artwork, there's time. Our current prompt, ROAD LESS TRAVELED, goes live on April 18th, and we're happy to receive early or moderately late submissions. If you're participating in the #AtoAChallenge you can double the fun by using the day's letter.Go HERE for ideas...You can sign up in my sidebar or on the WEP site, or anywhere you see the sign up.
Denise, Nila, Olga & Renée
Enjoy the rest of crazy April!
April 2, 2018
#IWSG post - TICK TOCK, A STITCH IN TIME. C LEE MCKENZIE. WEP.
Hi friends!
Hope your Easter was awesome!
This month, it's all happening. Of course, we have the A - Z Challenge, but two things are close to my heart. First, is the IWSG. I'm a bit early, but I want to squeeze so much in, you might need a day to read it, LOL.
I was so busy writing last month, I forgot all about the IWSG for the FIRST TIME EVER, so I hope Alex will forgive me ((tugs forelock)). Which helps me answer the IWSG question of the month:
When your writing life is a bit cloudy or filled with rain, what do you do to dig down and keep on writing?
I'm so upbeat about my writing, I don't have cloudy days or days filled with rain, except in my settings sometimes. Lucky me. I read a lot, so am inspired by awesome writers then I just wallow in the process myself. Selling a book or six will be a bonus one day soon.
If you have time in crazy April, please visit Alex J Cavanaugh and his awesome co-hosts this month - Olga Godim, Chemist Ken, Renee Scattergood, and Tamara Narayan!
And
Be sure to visit the
Insecure Writer’s Support Group Website!!!
Moving on from the IWSG, today, I suspect you're going to hear more about the anthology, Tick Tock, a Stitch in Crime, compiled by the IWSG. I offered to read/review the anthology, so some of my post today is to publicize Tick Tock and show you my review.
PRE-ORDER NOW! Amazon Goodreads
MY REVIEW:
I thoroughly enjoyed this collection of thought-provoking crime stories, eleven in all. The differing writing styles and story lines makes this a diverse collection, all linked together under the common theme of time. Each contains some aspect of thriller, crime or mystery, but all are up against the clock. There's a time travel story (always a winner!), a paranormal whodunit (that got my attention!), and a multi-point of view revenge tale. The anthology had me flipping pages. Hooked. Some stories didn’t surprise me with their endings, while others did, always a bonus. As a whole, the stories drew me in and left me wanting to know more about the authors who were chosen for inclusion in the anthology. I did have favorites, but I don’t want to name them here or single anyone out, or leave anyone out. All of the authors created thoroughly engaging stories, writing to a high standard. Kudos to the editorial team.
I requested a pdf copy so I could prepare this review ahead of release day.
NOW I HAVE A GUEST POST FROM C LEE MCKENZIE...
Hi Denise. thanks so much for sharing news about Tick Tock: A Stitch in Crime on your blog today. This is the fourth time I’ll be included in a group of short stories written to a theme. Each time I’m blown away by how all of the stories have a connection and yet are distinct.
Since I’ve been associated with several collections, I finally became curious about the word "anthology", so I looked it up. It seems the word entered our language in the 1600s. We borrowed it from the Greek word, "anthologia", which means The Garland. The story behind this odd association belongs to a Greek named, Meleager who collected lyric poets’ work, put them into a single collection and compared each poet to a flower or plant, forming, in a metaphorical way, a garland. I’m a word nut, so this was an interesting bit of information to tuck away.
In this anthology, there are eleven unique stories that have some aspect of thriller, crime or mystery all up against the clock. Among them is a futuristic time travel story, a paranormal whodunit, and a multi-point of view revenge tale.
Here’s the blurb to give you a better idea about the collection: Can a dead child’s cross-stitch pendant find a missing nun? Is revenge possible in just 48 minutes? Can a killer be stopped before the rescuers are engulfed by a city ablaze? Who killed what the tide brought in? Can a soliloquizing gumshoe stay out of jail?
Exploring the facets of time, eleven authors delve into mysteries and crimes that linger in both dark corners and plain sight.
Stitch In Crime by Gwen Gardner Until Release by Jemi Fraser The Tide Waits by Rebecca M. Douglass Center Lane by - Christine Clemetson One More Minute by Mary Aalgaard Reset by Tara Tyler Three O’clock Execution by S.R. Betler The Little Girl In The Bayou by J.R. Ferguson Cypress, Like The Tree by Yolanda Renée Gussy Saint and The Case Of The Missing Coed by C.D. Gallant-King Heartless by C. Lee McKenzie Hand-picked by a panel of agents and authors, these tales will take you on a thrilling ride into jeopardy and secrecy. Trail along, find the clues, and stay out of danger. Time is wasting.
I hope everyone will stop by our new website for excerpts and stories behind the stories.
Like our Facebook page.
Our Twitter link.Hashtag #TickTockMystery.
Thanks again, Denise.
Lee
BUY LINKS COURTESY OF C LEE MCKENZIE:
Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Tick-Tock-Stitch-Gwen-Gardner/dp/1939844541/
B&N - https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tick-tock-gwen-gardner/1127886068? ean=9781939844545
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Tick%20Tock%3A%20A%20Stitch%20in%20Crime%20(Insecure%20Writer%27s%20Support%20Group)&ac=1&acp=Tick%20&ac.title=Tick%20Tock%3A%20A%20Stitch%20in%20Crime&ac.author=Insecure%20Writer%27s%20Support%20Group
Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=Tick+Tock%3A+A+Stitch+in+Crime
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38227821-tick-tock
WEP (Write...Edit...Publish)
Now I did say there were two things happening that were important to me. After you read my review and C Lee's post, I hope you don't have reader fatigue cuz I want to tell you that WEP (Write...Edit...Publish), that persistent online writing community full of adorable people, has posted their new challenge today for entries on April 18th or earlier.
The theme is ROAD LESS TRAVELED. If you have something that would suit the theme, or you can make it work for the A - Z, please link it and go right ahead and submit your name to the list in my sidebar or at the WEP website. There's a $10 Amazon Gift Card for the outright winner!
Thanks for visiting! Enjoy the crazy month of April!
Hope your Easter was awesome!
This month, it's all happening. Of course, we have the A - Z Challenge, but two things are close to my heart. First, is the IWSG. I'm a bit early, but I want to squeeze so much in, you might need a day to read it, LOL.
I was so busy writing last month, I forgot all about the IWSG for the FIRST TIME EVER, so I hope Alex will forgive me ((tugs forelock)). Which helps me answer the IWSG question of the month:
When your writing life is a bit cloudy or filled with rain, what do you do to dig down and keep on writing?
I'm so upbeat about my writing, I don't have cloudy days or days filled with rain, except in my settings sometimes. Lucky me. I read a lot, so am inspired by awesome writers then I just wallow in the process myself. Selling a book or six will be a bonus one day soon.
If you have time in crazy April, please visit Alex J Cavanaugh and his awesome co-hosts this month - Olga Godim, Chemist Ken, Renee Scattergood, and Tamara Narayan!
And
Be sure to visit the
Insecure Writer’s Support Group Website!!!
Moving on from the IWSG, today, I suspect you're going to hear more about the anthology, Tick Tock, a Stitch in Crime, compiled by the IWSG. I offered to read/review the anthology, so some of my post today is to publicize Tick Tock and show you my review.
PRE-ORDER NOW! Amazon Goodreads
MY REVIEW:
I thoroughly enjoyed this collection of thought-provoking crime stories, eleven in all. The differing writing styles and story lines makes this a diverse collection, all linked together under the common theme of time. Each contains some aspect of thriller, crime or mystery, but all are up against the clock. There's a time travel story (always a winner!), a paranormal whodunit (that got my attention!), and a multi-point of view revenge tale. The anthology had me flipping pages. Hooked. Some stories didn’t surprise me with their endings, while others did, always a bonus. As a whole, the stories drew me in and left me wanting to know more about the authors who were chosen for inclusion in the anthology. I did have favorites, but I don’t want to name them here or single anyone out, or leave anyone out. All of the authors created thoroughly engaging stories, writing to a high standard. Kudos to the editorial team.
I requested a pdf copy so I could prepare this review ahead of release day.
NOW I HAVE A GUEST POST FROM C LEE MCKENZIE...
Hi Denise. thanks so much for sharing news about Tick Tock: A Stitch in Crime on your blog today. This is the fourth time I’ll be included in a group of short stories written to a theme. Each time I’m blown away by how all of the stories have a connection and yet are distinct.Since I’ve been associated with several collections, I finally became curious about the word "anthology", so I looked it up. It seems the word entered our language in the 1600s. We borrowed it from the Greek word, "anthologia", which means The Garland. The story behind this odd association belongs to a Greek named, Meleager who collected lyric poets’ work, put them into a single collection and compared each poet to a flower or plant, forming, in a metaphorical way, a garland. I’m a word nut, so this was an interesting bit of information to tuck away.
In this anthology, there are eleven unique stories that have some aspect of thriller, crime or mystery all up against the clock. Among them is a futuristic time travel story, a paranormal whodunit, and a multi-point of view revenge tale.
Here’s the blurb to give you a better idea about the collection: Can a dead child’s cross-stitch pendant find a missing nun? Is revenge possible in just 48 minutes? Can a killer be stopped before the rescuers are engulfed by a city ablaze? Who killed what the tide brought in? Can a soliloquizing gumshoe stay out of jail?
Exploring the facets of time, eleven authors delve into mysteries and crimes that linger in both dark corners and plain sight.
Stitch In Crime by Gwen Gardner Until Release by Jemi Fraser The Tide Waits by Rebecca M. Douglass Center Lane by - Christine Clemetson One More Minute by Mary Aalgaard Reset by Tara Tyler Three O’clock Execution by S.R. Betler The Little Girl In The Bayou by J.R. Ferguson Cypress, Like The Tree by Yolanda Renée Gussy Saint and The Case Of The Missing Coed by C.D. Gallant-King Heartless by C. Lee McKenzie Hand-picked by a panel of agents and authors, these tales will take you on a thrilling ride into jeopardy and secrecy. Trail along, find the clues, and stay out of danger. Time is wasting.
I hope everyone will stop by our new website for excerpts and stories behind the stories.
Like our Facebook page.
Our Twitter link.Hashtag #TickTockMystery.
Thanks again, Denise.
Lee
BUY LINKS COURTESY OF C LEE MCKENZIE:
Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Tick-Tock-Stitch-Gwen-Gardner/dp/1939844541/
B&N - https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tick-tock-gwen-gardner/1127886068? ean=9781939844545
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Tick%20Tock%3A%20A%20Stitch%20in%20Crime%20(Insecure%20Writer%27s%20Support%20Group)&ac=1&acp=Tick%20&ac.title=Tick%20Tock%3A%20A%20Stitch%20in%20Crime&ac.author=Insecure%20Writer%27s%20Support%20Group
Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=Tick+Tock%3A+A+Stitch+in+Crime
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38227821-tick-tock
WEP (Write...Edit...Publish)
Now I did say there were two things happening that were important to me. After you read my review and C Lee's post, I hope you don't have reader fatigue cuz I want to tell you that WEP (Write...Edit...Publish), that persistent online writing community full of adorable people, has posted their new challenge today for entries on April 18th or earlier.
The theme is ROAD LESS TRAVELED. If you have something that would suit the theme, or you can make it work for the A - Z, please link it and go right ahead and submit your name to the list in my sidebar or at the WEP website. There's a $10 Amazon Gift Card for the outright winner!
Thanks for visiting! Enjoy the crazy month of April!
February 18, 2018
WEP entry - In Too Deep - a #flashfiction of #floods in #outbackAustralia.
It's time for the Write...Edit...Publish (WEP) February challenge.
Some suggestions by the WEP team:
In Too Deep is a prompt for any situation with the potential forunforeseen conflict. Or it could be literal – a flood, a hurricane, a mining disaster, you name it. As always, the badge depicts how wide open the subject is. There are a million possible takes.
I've gone with a literal interpretation of the In Too Deep prompt. All I could see was water swirling, having been moved by news reports of flooding globally in the past months, followed by landslides, mudslides, with tragic consequences. So, here's mine...
In Too Deep
Sunny’s heart pounded in time to the steady drumbeat on the roof. Rain didn’t usually scare her, but tonight the sound unnerved her... just a little.
The whispers of wet leaves blowing on the wind had became a roaring as the galvanized roof took a pummeling. If she allowed herself to turn fanciful, she could imagine a jack-booted army running across the corrugated iron.
Enough of that. She must think about Matt. She wished she’d not been so abrupt when he’d rung earlier and shouted down the phone at her.
“Sunny, get out of the house – now!”
"Don't be silly! I’ve lived in the country all my life. You’re just a city slicker, and a British one at that." What would he know?
"Just leave, I beg you!"
“Listen, Matt, I’m not leaving my home for some itty-bitty water. I’ve been through worse. And look, no matter how bad the rain’s been in the past, this house has never flooded. When Mum and Pop lived here, it came close just that one time, but never too close. Relax. It’d have to be the flood of the century for our home to be inundated.”
“Don’t be infantile, Sunny. You can’t control nature. With climate change, nothing is simple any more. We’re going from one extreme weather event to the next.”
“Oh, pfft. You sound like some mad scientist with your doomsday theories. I’m a positive person. Nothing bad will happen.”
“Why do you always have to play that glass-half-full card? I might be in London, but they do have breaking news here. This flood is looking grim, according to the BBC. I’ve done the math. Our house will be metres under before the night is through!”
London seemed so far away. It was far away. And it rained every time she set foot in the place. Why should they be concerned about a littl precipitation in Oz? “Darling, you’re such a worry wart. I know it goes with the territory. I love that about you. It’s nice of you to be so concerned, but last time I went outside, the river was way down. The weather reports never get it right. Always sensationalism. They get off on scaring people.”
“You should be scared. You’re so stubborn. Does that go with the territory?”
Best not to answer that.
Matt continued: “If you won’t leave, I’m sending Josh over to drag you out.”
“Don’t waste your time, darling. Josh’s already been. He was very persuasive, but I told him I was staying. I’m a big girl.” She certainly was that.
“I love you Sunny. I can’t live without you. Leave for me and that little one if you won’t do it for yourself.”
Matt continued his cautionary tale, but she hadn’t listened.
After hanging up, she nodded off at the kitchen table, lulled by the wind and rain.
Hours had passed by the time she jerked awake. She struggled to her feet and walked to the window. OhMyGod! The river had broken its banks. Her house was surrounded with murky, swirling, murderous-looking water. She jumped back in fright. A log shot into the air, narrowly missing her window.
The enemy was at the door. What could she do?
Sunny pottered around the kitchen fixing a snack, singing on top of her voice – singing away the water – anything to keep her mind off the now raging beast which was coming for her. She stayed away from the windows. They might shatter. No one to stitch up a cut for kilometers.
In the gathering gloom, she could just make out palm trees straining, fronds bashing the sodden grass in long wet trails. She sat back down at the kitchen table, rubbed her stomach, singing softly, praying for the water to go down. Or the rain to stop.
She shivered in the icy coolness. She pulled her parka over her jeans, leaving it unzipped. Uneaten snack pushed aside, she huddled in her chair, alert to the river sounds.
“Matt, my darling, I love you,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Crack! A eucalyptus tree speared her kitchen window – shattered shards of skittering glass pinged onto the tiles, narrowly missing her legs. Rain poured in through the jagged hole.
“Help me God.” She clutched her stomach, cradling its mound, waiting for something to happen.
The phone... again...loud, shrill, insistent.
“Sunny!” Josh shouted down the line. “Get the ladder and climb into the roof! I’m coming!”
The phone dropped from her freezing fingers. Water crashed through the kitchen door and sucked and swirled around her sopping feet.
She was tough. But she was in too deep this time. She lived in outback Australia. She’d overcome adversity many times – bushfires, drought... and now... unusually, floods. A once-in-one-hundred-years event.
But she’d survive this. She had to – for Matt and their baby.
She set up the ladder.
She had a foot on the bottom rung when the first pain struck.
WORDS: 800+FULL CRITIQUE WELCOMED
If you have an extract from a WIP, photos, a true story, or a flash fiction swirling in your head, please feel welcome to write for us! We're simply lovely!
To read more WEP stories, click on names in my sidebar with a DL (Direct Link) after the name. Or go to the WEP website. These are already posted for your reading enjoyment.
Thanks for coming by. I'd love a comment about my story.
Some suggestions by the WEP team:
In Too Deep is a prompt for any situation with the potential forunforeseen conflict. Or it could be literal – a flood, a hurricane, a mining disaster, you name it. As always, the badge depicts how wide open the subject is. There are a million possible takes.I've gone with a literal interpretation of the In Too Deep prompt. All I could see was water swirling, having been moved by news reports of flooding globally in the past months, followed by landslides, mudslides, with tragic consequences. So, here's mine...
In Too Deep
Sunny’s heart pounded in time to the steady drumbeat on the roof. Rain didn’t usually scare her, but tonight the sound unnerved her... just a little.
The whispers of wet leaves blowing on the wind had became a roaring as the galvanized roof took a pummeling. If she allowed herself to turn fanciful, she could imagine a jack-booted army running across the corrugated iron.
Enough of that. She must think about Matt. She wished she’d not been so abrupt when he’d rung earlier and shouted down the phone at her.
“Sunny, get out of the house – now!”
"Don't be silly! I’ve lived in the country all my life. You’re just a city slicker, and a British one at that." What would he know?
"Just leave, I beg you!"
“Listen, Matt, I’m not leaving my home for some itty-bitty water. I’ve been through worse. And look, no matter how bad the rain’s been in the past, this house has never flooded. When Mum and Pop lived here, it came close just that one time, but never too close. Relax. It’d have to be the flood of the century for our home to be inundated.”
“Don’t be infantile, Sunny. You can’t control nature. With climate change, nothing is simple any more. We’re going from one extreme weather event to the next.”
“Oh, pfft. You sound like some mad scientist with your doomsday theories. I’m a positive person. Nothing bad will happen.”
“Why do you always have to play that glass-half-full card? I might be in London, but they do have breaking news here. This flood is looking grim, according to the BBC. I’ve done the math. Our house will be metres under before the night is through!”
London seemed so far away. It was far away. And it rained every time she set foot in the place. Why should they be concerned about a littl precipitation in Oz? “Darling, you’re such a worry wart. I know it goes with the territory. I love that about you. It’s nice of you to be so concerned, but last time I went outside, the river was way down. The weather reports never get it right. Always sensationalism. They get off on scaring people.”
“You should be scared. You’re so stubborn. Does that go with the territory?”
Best not to answer that.
Matt continued: “If you won’t leave, I’m sending Josh over to drag you out.”
“Don’t waste your time, darling. Josh’s already been. He was very persuasive, but I told him I was staying. I’m a big girl.” She certainly was that.
“I love you Sunny. I can’t live without you. Leave for me and that little one if you won’t do it for yourself.”
Matt continued his cautionary tale, but she hadn’t listened.
After hanging up, she nodded off at the kitchen table, lulled by the wind and rain.
Hours had passed by the time she jerked awake. She struggled to her feet and walked to the window. OhMyGod! The river had broken its banks. Her house was surrounded with murky, swirling, murderous-looking water. She jumped back in fright. A log shot into the air, narrowly missing her window.
The enemy was at the door. What could she do?
Sunny pottered around the kitchen fixing a snack, singing on top of her voice – singing away the water – anything to keep her mind off the now raging beast which was coming for her. She stayed away from the windows. They might shatter. No one to stitch up a cut for kilometers.
In the gathering gloom, she could just make out palm trees straining, fronds bashing the sodden grass in long wet trails. She sat back down at the kitchen table, rubbed her stomach, singing softly, praying for the water to go down. Or the rain to stop.
She shivered in the icy coolness. She pulled her parka over her jeans, leaving it unzipped. Uneaten snack pushed aside, she huddled in her chair, alert to the river sounds.
“Matt, my darling, I love you,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Crack! A eucalyptus tree speared her kitchen window – shattered shards of skittering glass pinged onto the tiles, narrowly missing her legs. Rain poured in through the jagged hole.
“Help me God.” She clutched her stomach, cradling its mound, waiting for something to happen.
The phone... again...loud, shrill, insistent.
“Sunny!” Josh shouted down the line. “Get the ladder and climb into the roof! I’m coming!”
The phone dropped from her freezing fingers. Water crashed through the kitchen door and sucked and swirled around her sopping feet.
She was tough. But she was in too deep this time. She lived in outback Australia. She’d overcome adversity many times – bushfires, drought... and now... unusually, floods. A once-in-one-hundred-years event.
But she’d survive this. She had to – for Matt and their baby.
She set up the ladder.
She had a foot on the bottom rung when the first pain struck.
WORDS: 800+FULL CRITIQUE WELCOMED
If you have an extract from a WIP, photos, a true story, or a flash fiction swirling in your head, please feel welcome to write for us! We're simply lovely!
To read more WEP stories, click on names in my sidebar with a DL (Direct Link) after the name. Or go to the WEP website. These are already posted for your reading enjoyment.
Thanks for coming by. I'd love a comment about my story.
February 6, 2018
#IWSG post - Why I write what I write.
Hi everyone!
It's our favorite time of the month again. Thanks to Alex J Cavanaugh, we have the IWSG, ably assisted by an awesome team of writers/bloggers and monthly helpers. This month, helping are Stephen Tremp, Pat Garcia, Angela Wooldridge, Victoria Marie Lees, and Madeline Mora-Summonte! Try to visit each if you can.
I'm so pleased you rushed over to read my post, but it'd be really lovely once you finish if you'd CLICK on the badge and read some more entries.
February 7 question - What do you love about the genre you write in most often?
I belong to several Facebook writers' groups, and a thread was begun on one recently around whether you should write what you like because you love it, or whether you should write what's hot, what sells, what the market wants.
Okay, we could get on our writer professional high horses and say, what??? Surely all writers write what they want, but, according to this group who like to make a ****load of money from the pen, they study the market, study their own books, to see what's selling and what isn't. There's all sorts of detailed ruminations about choices which made my eyes water and my brain shut down, but I see their point.
F Scott Fitzgerald famously wrote commercially to make enough money to keep he and his wife, the famous Zelda, living the high life, but always, whether in a villa in the South of France or an apartment in Paris, he was working on the novels he wanted to write. We remember him for The Great Gatsby and This Side of Paradise and other greats; we don't remember him for his commercial work for newspapers and magazines, but he totally had a right to make enough to eat and drink and party hard. How else could he have written The Great Gatsby where Jay Gatsby is supposedly him?
So, why do I, Denise Covey, write what I write?
Most people who know me know I love Paris but not so much that I love Italy, too.
I adore reading novels (and travel articles and non fiction books and coffee table books and old documents and old postcards and drink coasters and placemats) set in Paris, so as I'm such a fan, I've either written, or partially written, two novels set in that fair city along with a ton of short stories. It's a joy and gives me an excuse to go back often to check the details.
Hey, that's how I knew that the love locks that were removed from the Pont des Arts had
been moved to Pont Neuf, the next bridge. Paris without love locks? Pfft. Read my short story here which showcases the locks. That's great work if you can get it. And who knows, I might actually sell a book or two set in Paris one day.
So look out for An American in Paris (still with Avon) and Le Petite Paris Cookery School under construction. Both I adore.
And I also adore Italy, which always speaks to my dark side while Paris speaks more to my frivolous side, or something. I imagine all sorts of weird stuff happening in those dark Italian forests and mountains. Which is why I write Paranormal Romance. Starting with a short story I began in 2010!!! I actually self-published my first completed paranormal novella in, ahem, what was it? 2015 I think. I let it sink without trace, always planning to rewrite it to the MARKET. Which I'm now doing. It's now a 27,000 word novella under critique with my awesome 'critters' after having been edited by a pro.
The cover will have shades of this quick mock up...
With apologies to my cover artist who is reading this post.
So look out for Vampire Obsession (which first appeared as Under the Tuscan Sun) coming to a kindle near you! I'm really going to finish it within the next 2 years, LOL. Actually, I've set myself an April deadline.
So, that is a little about why I write what I write. Then there's the travel articles and short stories that occasionally put some money into my bank account. That's commercial, right.
Look, I don't know if I got off topic, but we're all good at skim reading, so I hope you saw something in this post. It'd be pretty hard for a writer to write completely to the market. You've got to have something to feed the soul.
How about you? What do you think about writing commercially?Why do you write what you write? Do tell....Thanks for coming by. I do appreciate your time. I'll be over to say hello as soon as I can.
And you can't help noticing that WEP has their new challenge up. See the sign up in my sidebar? Please sign up and let us read your stories. If you go to the site, you'll see we have a new look for a new year!
It's our favorite time of the month again. Thanks to Alex J Cavanaugh, we have the IWSG, ably assisted by an awesome team of writers/bloggers and monthly helpers. This month, helping are Stephen Tremp, Pat Garcia, Angela Wooldridge, Victoria Marie Lees, and Madeline Mora-Summonte! Try to visit each if you can.I'm so pleased you rushed over to read my post, but it'd be really lovely once you finish if you'd CLICK on the badge and read some more entries.
February 7 question - What do you love about the genre you write in most often?
I belong to several Facebook writers' groups, and a thread was begun on one recently around whether you should write what you like because you love it, or whether you should write what's hot, what sells, what the market wants.
Okay, we could get on our writer professional high horses and say, what??? Surely all writers write what they want, but, according to this group who like to make a ****load of money from the pen, they study the market, study their own books, to see what's selling and what isn't. There's all sorts of detailed ruminations about choices which made my eyes water and my brain shut down, but I see their point.
F Scott Fitzgerald famously wrote commercially to make enough money to keep he and his wife, the famous Zelda, living the high life, but always, whether in a villa in the South of France or an apartment in Paris, he was working on the novels he wanted to write. We remember him for The Great Gatsby and This Side of Paradise and other greats; we don't remember him for his commercial work for newspapers and magazines, but he totally had a right to make enough to eat and drink and party hard. How else could he have written The Great Gatsby where Jay Gatsby is supposedly him?
So, why do I, Denise Covey, write what I write?
Most people who know me know I love Paris but not so much that I love Italy, too.
I adore reading novels (and travel articles and non fiction books and coffee table books and old documents and old postcards and drink coasters and placemats) set in Paris, so as I'm such a fan, I've either written, or partially written, two novels set in that fair city along with a ton of short stories. It's a joy and gives me an excuse to go back often to check the details.Hey, that's how I knew that the love locks that were removed from the Pont des Arts had
been moved to Pont Neuf, the next bridge. Paris without love locks? Pfft. Read my short story here which showcases the locks. That's great work if you can get it. And who knows, I might actually sell a book or two set in Paris one day.So look out for An American in Paris (still with Avon) and Le Petite Paris Cookery School under construction. Both I adore.
And I also adore Italy, which always speaks to my dark side while Paris speaks more to my frivolous side, or something. I imagine all sorts of weird stuff happening in those dark Italian forests and mountains. Which is why I write Paranormal Romance. Starting with a short story I began in 2010!!! I actually self-published my first completed paranormal novella in, ahem, what was it? 2015 I think. I let it sink without trace, always planning to rewrite it to the MARKET. Which I'm now doing. It's now a 27,000 word novella under critique with my awesome 'critters' after having been edited by a pro.
The cover will have shades of this quick mock up...
With apologies to my cover artist who is reading this post. So look out for Vampire Obsession (which first appeared as Under the Tuscan Sun) coming to a kindle near you! I'm really going to finish it within the next 2 years, LOL. Actually, I've set myself an April deadline.
So, that is a little about why I write what I write. Then there's the travel articles and short stories that occasionally put some money into my bank account. That's commercial, right.
Look, I don't know if I got off topic, but we're all good at skim reading, so I hope you saw something in this post. It'd be pretty hard for a writer to write completely to the market. You've got to have something to feed the soul.
How about you? What do you think about writing commercially?Why do you write what you write? Do tell....Thanks for coming by. I do appreciate your time. I'll be over to say hello as soon as I can.
And you can't help noticing that WEP has their new challenge up. See the sign up in my sidebar? Please sign up and let us read your stories. If you go to the site, you'll see we have a new look for a new year!
January 2, 2018
#IWSG post - What steps have you taken or plan to take to put a schedule in place for your writing and publishing?
Happy New Year and welcome to the first IWSG posting for 2018! Here we encourage each other monthly on our writing journey.
The brainchild of Alex J Cavanaugh, his awesome co-hosts for the January 3 posting of the IWSG are Tyrean Martinson, Ellen @ The Cynical Sailor, Megan Morgan, Jennifer Lane, and Rachna Chhabria! Please visit if you can.
Today I'm going to answer the set question:
January 3 question - What steps have you taken or plan to take to put a schedule in place for your writing and publishing?
I apologize in advance if this is a bit garbled. I had a very small window to get this done...
My writing schedule is pretty awesome at the best of times, and woeful at the worst of times. Soon the Christmas holidays will be over -- for me the end of this week -- so I can begin my routine of heading to my office (called Den's Den) early in the morning when I'm at the beach and going early to the State Library on teaching days when I'm in Brisbane. Usually this gets me up to 4 - 6 hours a day at the laptop.
But it's not just about the writing, is it? I also have to factor in sending my work to beta readers, editing, paying an editor, rewriting, attending meetings with my critters and sending them chapters routinely to be discussed together. I'm never going to be one of those writers who write a book a month. How do you do that if you edit/rewrite? Please do tell.
And then there's the reciprocal critiques I do for other writers.
This year I need to factor into my schedule more book reviews of blogger books.
I'm planning to de-list my vampire novel on Amazon and republish in its new-beaut version through Draft2Digital who now have Amazon on their list of distributors, too!! My critters have been too busy over Christmas to re-read, but I have it with one beta reader who has already made suggestions, good ones.
So, my Paris romance (75,000+ words) is still with Avon and Tule. Waiting to hear.It seems to be generally accepted that you need to self-publish more than one novel or it's not worthwhile, so I'm also working on getting the next vampire novel in the series finished and at least Chapter One on the third before I publish. We'll see.I've decided to go with a pen name for my vamp trilogy. I checked out the top-selling vampire novels on Amazon and the authors have very apt names. I started a thread in the facebook group I mention below and got 250 useful comments on the ways and means of pen names. So that means an author page on facebook, and a newsletter I guess, (jury's out on this one), all to garner interest before I self-publish.I've been haunting the 20Booksto50K Facebook group which is a boon to see what successful authors are doing re self-publishing and marketing. A great place to lurk and learn. Can't sing their praises highly enough.
So, I won't hold you up. You can see I have a plan for 2018. You need to head to more posts for the IWSG. Go HERE for the list...
And over at WEP we have announced the winners for those who wrote for us in December. Please visit and congratulate them if you can. Also check out the awesome challenges for 2018!
Now I'm looking forward to hearing all about your writing goals for 2018!
And please, if you have a newsletter, would you answer the following:
who did you choose to go with? how did you grow your reader base?how often do you send out your newsletter?er, do you actually recommend a newsletter? I know heavyweights like Anne R Allen say it's old hat, but that's not what I'm hearing elsewhere.Thanks a mille!!
The brainchild of Alex J Cavanaugh, his awesome co-hosts for the January 3 posting of the IWSG are Tyrean Martinson, Ellen @ The Cynical Sailor, Megan Morgan, Jennifer Lane, and Rachna Chhabria! Please visit if you can.
Today I'm going to answer the set question:
January 3 question - What steps have you taken or plan to take to put a schedule in place for your writing and publishing?
I apologize in advance if this is a bit garbled. I had a very small window to get this done...
My writing schedule is pretty awesome at the best of times, and woeful at the worst of times. Soon the Christmas holidays will be over -- for me the end of this week -- so I can begin my routine of heading to my office (called Den's Den) early in the morning when I'm at the beach and going early to the State Library on teaching days when I'm in Brisbane. Usually this gets me up to 4 - 6 hours a day at the laptop.
But it's not just about the writing, is it? I also have to factor in sending my work to beta readers, editing, paying an editor, rewriting, attending meetings with my critters and sending them chapters routinely to be discussed together. I'm never going to be one of those writers who write a book a month. How do you do that if you edit/rewrite? Please do tell.
And then there's the reciprocal critiques I do for other writers.
This year I need to factor into my schedule more book reviews of blogger books.
I'm planning to de-list my vampire novel on Amazon and republish in its new-beaut version through Draft2Digital who now have Amazon on their list of distributors, too!! My critters have been too busy over Christmas to re-read, but I have it with one beta reader who has already made suggestions, good ones.
So, my Paris romance (75,000+ words) is still with Avon and Tule. Waiting to hear.It seems to be generally accepted that you need to self-publish more than one novel or it's not worthwhile, so I'm also working on getting the next vampire novel in the series finished and at least Chapter One on the third before I publish. We'll see.I've decided to go with a pen name for my vamp trilogy. I checked out the top-selling vampire novels on Amazon and the authors have very apt names. I started a thread in the facebook group I mention below and got 250 useful comments on the ways and means of pen names. So that means an author page on facebook, and a newsletter I guess, (jury's out on this one), all to garner interest before I self-publish.I've been haunting the 20Booksto50K Facebook group which is a boon to see what successful authors are doing re self-publishing and marketing. A great place to lurk and learn. Can't sing their praises highly enough.
So, I won't hold you up. You can see I have a plan for 2018. You need to head to more posts for the IWSG. Go HERE for the list...
And over at WEP we have announced the winners for those who wrote for us in December. Please visit and congratulate them if you can. Also check out the awesome challenges for 2018!
Now I'm looking forward to hearing all about your writing goals for 2018!
And please, if you have a newsletter, would you answer the following:
who did you choose to go with? how did you grow your reader base?how often do you send out your newsletter?er, do you actually recommend a newsletter? I know heavyweights like Anne R Allen say it's old hat, but that's not what I'm hearing elsewhere.Thanks a mille!!
December 17, 2017
December WEP challenge - The End is the Beginning - another story set in Paris.
Whoa! December already! Time for holiday celebrations a'plenty. Also time for the final WEP (Write...Edit...Publish) challenge for 2017. We've already prepared all the challenges for 2018, so if you enjoy a writing challenge, go HERE to read all about it. We'd love to have you.
The December WEP challenge is The End is the Beginning. Pretty open, wouldn't you say? The blurb said:
A flashback? A new start? A cascading change? A branching off point? An end and a beginning? Celebrate year's end with us!
Here I am, all fuelled up after my latest sojourn in Paris, so of course, my flash fiction is set in that beautiful city. It's probably more suited to Romantic Friday Writers, but, heck, what's wrong with a bit of romance? My story offers a new start, an end and a beginning,
The City Where Love Lived and Died
It’s our wedding day. May 25, 2011. The most romantic day of my life is finally here and I’m spending it in the most romantic city in the world. Ooh la la!Can I take it all in? Everywhere I look there is beauty – Notre Dame's aged bricks and soaring buttresses being kissed by sunset – the lock-filled bridge, the Pont des Arts that joins the Left Bank and Right Bank – lovers sharing wine and baguettes, dangling their legs in the Seine and throwing bread to the ducks. As I walk beside the river, my candy pink dress with its French Poodle embroidery flares around my knees. Pink satin heels complement my black net stockings. I clutch the tiny posy of white roses which my darling Mitch handed to me on the steps of the town hall, known here as the mairie. Their scent envelopes me as I walk arm in arm with my beautiful man feeling oh so French.Mitch, so handsome in his black suit, kisses the white gold and diamond ring on my finger – Could this day get any better?‘Let’s do it!’ he says.We walk to our chosen spot midway across the Pont des Arts. Mitch reaches into his pocket and flips the copper lock in his hands.We gaze at the token as if it were made of solid gold.
‘I had it engraved,’ he says.Wrapping my arms around his waist, I read the inscription – ‘Capt'nFlynn, Mastarata 25-May-2011’.
Yes, this day could get better. 'You used our special names.'We loop the lock over the wire and click it shut. Mitch reaches for me and we kiss. I hear a passing tourist snap our photo. I giggle, wondering if they'll give it a caption: The Kiss.‘Let’s come back every year to celebrate our wedding anniversary,’ I say.‘I can’t think of any better way to celebrate our love,’ Mitch says. We kiss again to seal the deal.
☁☁☁
As I cross the bridge between the Latin Quarter and Notre Dame, I think to myself how apt it is that the skies are all smudgy, not that brilliant Parisian grey-blue of two years ago.Nevertheless, I came here for a reason, no matter how painful. I hold my breath as I stand on the timber deck of the Pont des Arts once again and search through the multitude of love locks. It’s a wonder the bridge doesn’t collapse under this weight of metal. Finally, there it is - still bright and shiny in the gloom. I pick it up and rub my thumb over our pet names.Ironic.I attach the tiny plastic envelope to the lock handle, then I collapse onto a bench and sob for our fractured love.
Darling Mitch
I could have trusted you instead of showering you with jealousy. I could have travelled with you instead of putting my career first. I could have forgiven you instead of throwing you out without listening to you.
Your Dearest Polly
We were meant to be together, forever. I stroll along the Seine, then order mussels in garlic cream sauce at what was our favourite restaurant in the Latin Quarter. When the attentive waiter brings the bowl of dark, half open shells, pours my wine and places the bread basket before me, I cannot eat or drink. It’s futile to retrace steps from the past; those steps have been obliterated with time.
☁☁☁The 17th Century Hotel le Relais is not at all romantic without Mitch. Climbing the winding stairs is just a leg-numbing chore. Surely they could install a lift. The fifth floor at last. The Romantic Room with the etched carvings on the ancient door. From the window I’ll be able to gaze at Notre Dame and watch the old lady turn golden in the sunset, watch the tourists snapping pictures, watch the thousands entering her Gothic doors, hoping to find solace as they gasp at the beauty of the rose window.I take a deep breath and rattle around with the ancient key. The door opens before I find the slot. I step back in fright, clasping my chest and breathing jerky breaths.‘Mitch! What are you doing here?’‘Same as you, I imagine.’‘But—’‘I read your letter.’‘Then you—’He holds out our wedding album. I'd left it on the desk under the window. ‘I saw this. How could I have put what we have at risk? I’m a fool.’‘Marrying you was the happiest day of my life. That album reminds me of our special day.’‘I’m sorry sweetheart. It wasn’t you who needed reminding, it was me. I’ll do better. What I did was despicable, but...will you take me back? I’m so sorry. I love you...I love you...’I entwine my arms around his neck and soak his beautiful white shirt with my tears.‘I love you Mitch. I don’t want a life without you. I've missed you so...’His arms feel so right, around me where they belong – could this day get any better? It’s about to.
NOTE: The ‘love locks’, despised by most of the French population, were removed from the Pont des Arts on June 1, 2015. When I returned this visit, I was happy to see that Pont Neuf is now adorned with ‘love locks’. Obviously, the City of Love didn’t want to be known as the City Where Love Died.
WORDS: 844
FCA
Love locks on the Pont Neuf - corridors and corridors of them leading down to the Seine.
Taken by moi in September, 2017.
PLEASE click on names in my sidebar which have DL next to them for more entries.
Thanks for reading.Happy Holidays!
Denise
The December WEP challenge is The End is the Beginning. Pretty open, wouldn't you say? The blurb said:
A flashback? A new start? A cascading change? A branching off point? An end and a beginning? Celebrate year's end with us!
Here I am, all fuelled up after my latest sojourn in Paris, so of course, my flash fiction is set in that beautiful city. It's probably more suited to Romantic Friday Writers, but, heck, what's wrong with a bit of romance? My story offers a new start, an end and a beginning,
The City Where Love Lived and Died
It’s our wedding day. May 25, 2011. The most romantic day of my life is finally here and I’m spending it in the most romantic city in the world. Ooh la la!Can I take it all in? Everywhere I look there is beauty – Notre Dame's aged bricks and soaring buttresses being kissed by sunset – the lock-filled bridge, the Pont des Arts that joins the Left Bank and Right Bank – lovers sharing wine and baguettes, dangling their legs in the Seine and throwing bread to the ducks. As I walk beside the river, my candy pink dress with its French Poodle embroidery flares around my knees. Pink satin heels complement my black net stockings. I clutch the tiny posy of white roses which my darling Mitch handed to me on the steps of the town hall, known here as the mairie. Their scent envelopes me as I walk arm in arm with my beautiful man feeling oh so French.Mitch, so handsome in his black suit, kisses the white gold and diamond ring on my finger – Could this day get any better?‘Let’s do it!’ he says.We walk to our chosen spot midway across the Pont des Arts. Mitch reaches into his pocket and flips the copper lock in his hands.We gaze at the token as if it were made of solid gold.
‘I had it engraved,’ he says.Wrapping my arms around his waist, I read the inscription – ‘Capt'nFlynn, Mastarata 25-May-2011’.
Yes, this day could get better. 'You used our special names.'We loop the lock over the wire and click it shut. Mitch reaches for me and we kiss. I hear a passing tourist snap our photo. I giggle, wondering if they'll give it a caption: The Kiss.‘Let’s come back every year to celebrate our wedding anniversary,’ I say.‘I can’t think of any better way to celebrate our love,’ Mitch says. We kiss again to seal the deal.☁☁☁
As I cross the bridge between the Latin Quarter and Notre Dame, I think to myself how apt it is that the skies are all smudgy, not that brilliant Parisian grey-blue of two years ago.Nevertheless, I came here for a reason, no matter how painful. I hold my breath as I stand on the timber deck of the Pont des Arts once again and search through the multitude of love locks. It’s a wonder the bridge doesn’t collapse under this weight of metal. Finally, there it is - still bright and shiny in the gloom. I pick it up and rub my thumb over our pet names.Ironic.I attach the tiny plastic envelope to the lock handle, then I collapse onto a bench and sob for our fractured love.
Darling Mitch
I could have trusted you instead of showering you with jealousy. I could have travelled with you instead of putting my career first. I could have forgiven you instead of throwing you out without listening to you.
Your Dearest Polly
We were meant to be together, forever. I stroll along the Seine, then order mussels in garlic cream sauce at what was our favourite restaurant in the Latin Quarter. When the attentive waiter brings the bowl of dark, half open shells, pours my wine and places the bread basket before me, I cannot eat or drink. It’s futile to retrace steps from the past; those steps have been obliterated with time.
☁☁☁The 17th Century Hotel le Relais is not at all romantic without Mitch. Climbing the winding stairs is just a leg-numbing chore. Surely they could install a lift. The fifth floor at last. The Romantic Room with the etched carvings on the ancient door. From the window I’ll be able to gaze at Notre Dame and watch the old lady turn golden in the sunset, watch the tourists snapping pictures, watch the thousands entering her Gothic doors, hoping to find solace as they gasp at the beauty of the rose window.I take a deep breath and rattle around with the ancient key. The door opens before I find the slot. I step back in fright, clasping my chest and breathing jerky breaths.‘Mitch! What are you doing here?’‘Same as you, I imagine.’‘But—’‘I read your letter.’‘Then you—’He holds out our wedding album. I'd left it on the desk under the window. ‘I saw this. How could I have put what we have at risk? I’m a fool.’‘Marrying you was the happiest day of my life. That album reminds me of our special day.’‘I’m sorry sweetheart. It wasn’t you who needed reminding, it was me. I’ll do better. What I did was despicable, but...will you take me back? I’m so sorry. I love you...I love you...’I entwine my arms around his neck and soak his beautiful white shirt with my tears.‘I love you Mitch. I don’t want a life without you. I've missed you so...’His arms feel so right, around me where they belong – could this day get any better? It’s about to.
NOTE: The ‘love locks’, despised by most of the French population, were removed from the Pont des Arts on June 1, 2015. When I returned this visit, I was happy to see that Pont Neuf is now adorned with ‘love locks’. Obviously, the City of Love didn’t want to be known as the City Where Love Died.
WORDS: 844
FCA
Love locks on the Pont Neuf - corridors and corridors of them leading down to the Seine.Taken by moi in September, 2017.
PLEASE click on names in my sidebar which have DL next to them for more entries.
Thanks for reading.Happy Holidays!
Denise
