Kellyn Roth's Blog: Kellyn Roth, Author, page 48

Something I need to say.

I don’t do this often, so you must forgive me when I do. Especially since this is a great post, and I’m sick of everyone throwing baby fits just because their favorite candidate didn’t win.

Flourishing by Restful Falls

There’s something I need to say.

If you’re an American citizen, Trump IS your president. Period.

Personally, I don’t think you can say you’re an American if you don’t accept the outcome of the election. Having your own view is good, but slamming down on our president is NOT ok. He is our commander in chief, and trust me, he isn’t leaving any time soon.

And the more you rebuke the result of the election, the more our country will separate and become weak.

“Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.”
Romans 13:1-7

Trust me, God made Trump our president, he has a plan. And we need to trust that plan. God uses all kinds of people for his good. Do you want “proof” that Trump becoming out president was all…

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A Quick Works-in-Progress Update

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Today I’m going to update you on my current projects as briefly as I can, just to give you an idea what I’m working on now. Seriously, guys, I promise to be brief. Like, super brief. Like, I’m probably spending more time explaining it than I will on the actual post.

Before we go on to that, I want your opinions on that graphic up there (^). It’s pretty awful, isn’t it? I literally just stuck some text on a pinkish background and added the little notebook thing. *scowls at own lameness*

Also, I want to tell you that I’m planning a cover reveal this May. I haven’t worked out the details yet, but I’m really excited for it. Willowy Whisper just finished up the cover for Ivy Introspective, and it is gorgeous!

Now, what I was actually supposed to be posting about …

The Dressmaker’s Secret

I’ve made a list of the things I want to change, and I’ve made a few of those changes. Mostly, I’m just making little tweaks here and there – sentence structure and such. However, I am planning on making some big revisions from Chapter 26 on, rewriting large sections and even playing with the storyline a bit.

Ivy Introspective

I’ve got in printed out (again), and I’m editing it like crazy! After I’m finished (which shouldn’t be too long; I’d say I’m about 70% done), I’m going to put the changes on my Google Docs file (hopefully before next Saturday when I’ll be flying to California) and start reading through it again.

Flowers

Flowers is becoming a rebellious teenager. Once again, Adele is giving me trouble, that little sinker. I don’t want this to be cheesy or preachy … but I also want to show some important growth in my characters! How can this be done? I have no idea. However, I’m almost done. I just have a couple pages to write before it’s completed.

And … I think that’s all! I know this was a fairly short post, but the shorter the post, the better chance I have of retaining your attention, right? I mean, not that I think you have ADHD or anything.

Okay, I just thought about that, and … what if you do have ADHD, and I offended you? Sorry. Not trying to, um, stereotype or … any of … that stuff ….

That just reminded me of this funny conversation I had with my friends today. One of my friends was talking about Trump, and I was like, “Yeah, he’s my role model. I always strive to be super offensive (this was a joke; I don’t actually find him offensive). It’s so much fun!” (I’m paraphrasing, Claire, in case you read this.) And my other friend said, “You try hard, but you’re not there yet …”

I may never get there … *sad sigh*

Sincerely,

~Kellyn Roth, who will never be Donald Trump. Or Jane Austen, for that matter, which is perhaps a bit worse …

When You Feel Like Giving Up

Hullo old chaps! Long time, no see! What’s cookin’ with you? Speaking of cooking, I made cookies yesterday, and they were yummy but slimy. Don’t ask. I think I put too much … oh, who am I kidding? I have no idea what when into those things!

#imakethesamecookiesoverandoveragainandfaileverytime

This is my pitiful attempt at a professional, inspirational post. Let us note that I suck at inspiration. Seriously, I am really bad at it. I’m like, “Just get over yourself and do something!” However, I’ve been told that my methods of inspiration at a little rough. So … bear with me.

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Some day in your writing life, you will feel like just giving up.

Usually this is during your first draft – known as ‘writer’s block’ – or while revising  – known as ‘editor’s horror’ (No, I did not just make that up … well, yes, I did, but it’s gonna be a thing someday! You wait and see!).

Perhaps you’ve felt like giving up in the past or feel like giving up now. If not, trust me, some day you will want to give up.

Why will you? How can you avoid it? Have I ever experienced any of this? Find out by reading on … or, you know, you could leave now … and then you’ll never know …

1: Writing is Emotional.

If you think it isn’t, then you’ve obviously never written! It’s hard. It involves a lot of sweat and blood on the writer’s part, a lot of mental effort, a lot of straining for the right words. But I’m talking about the pain.

Have I ever told you how hard it is to kill off a character you created, fictional as that character is? Have I ever told you how a writer feels every little hurt a character experiences? We live our characters’ lives.

Even if our characters live happy lives, writing is still emotional. It puts a lot of strain on the writer. Is it any good? Will anyone like it? Will they like my character? My plot? My writing style itself? Do I even like it?  Writers have a hard time separating their books from themselves sometimes. I know I do. If their book isn’t any good … well, neither are they! Might as well give up, right?

However …

If you write a story you’re passionate about, then you won’t be able to put your pen down (and neither will your readers). The pain will be worth it.

For Example

I’ve always had a hard time completing my books because I wasn’t really into them. But let me tell you, when you get into a story, you really zip through it! You know me … I spend hours pondering word choice and order. However, I could barely stop to think when I was writing At Her Fingertips this last November. By the thirtieth, I’d written 65,000 words which are … well, it’s the first draft, but I don’t think I’m gonna be doing a ton of revising.

No, I won’t stop bragging about that … it’s a big deal for me!

2: First Drafts Inevitably Suck

Bluntly put, I know, but it’s so true. And, based on my earlier statement (waaay up there when I was talking about emotions instead of my success as a NaNoer), the writer often interprets this as “I suck.”

Nothing could be further from the truth! Oh, how I wish I could steal first drafts from all your favorite authors, all the greats of the writer world and share them with you, but I can’t. I’m sure, however, that these drafts are every bit as messed up as yours!

But we don’t get to see the original draft, do we? How can we know how lame their first drafts were? We can’t, and so authors (especially beginning authors) give up.

However …

Actually, I think I already made my point, so there’s not really anything to type here.

So … I guess I’d better … sing?

AMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZING GRAAAAACE

*chokes* Mmkay, that was a bad idea.

For Example

The first draft of TDS was in first person. Miss Chattoway was a bubbly society flirt (in the most innocent sense … shame on you for making me add this in). She had once been engaged to Mr. Parker.

I know. I just scared myself, too …

3: Halfway Through the Story, It Just Ain’t Working

This happened to a project I was writing about four years ago, The Heirs of the Trunk (and several other projects as well, but I won’t list them). It started out great, but as I got to the middle … it just didn’t work at all. I didn’t know where I wanted to go next. I looked back on what I’d written, and I decided it was pretty lame. I deleted it.

Now? I regret it with every fiber of my being! I have managed to save parts of it, and you know what? For an inexperienced eleven-year-old, the book wasn’t bad.

It isn’t anywhere near as good as what I’ve written more recently (and what I do now is still pretty lame) … but it is a pretty good story up to a certain point, the writing is decent, and the characters are actually somewhat vivid.

I wish I had finished it.

I wish I had saved every version of it that I ever wrote.

It would have been so easy to put it all in a Word file and store it in some hidden place amongst other failed stories. Who cares how much it sucks? Some day you may want it, if only to remind yourself how much you’ve improved.

But a novel that just isn’t working for whatever reason often discourages authors from writing.

However …

Okay, I guess I already did that … again …

For Example

Wait … this whole thing was pretty much an example …

4: Criticism

There’s no way around it. At some point, someone won’t like your book! I’m so sorry, man, but your writing isn’t for everyone.

Now, I truly believe in the old ‘sticks and stones can break my bones’ saying. If you don’t let words hurt you, they won’t.

Besides, nine times out of ten (well … I’d say more like seven times out of ten), the person who said something ‘mean’ about your work was just trying to hurt! Step back and take a look at what they said.

Maybe there’s some truth to it. Most of the time, you can learn something from negative feedback. Things like, “I didn’t much care for the writer’s style” doesn’t really help you (although it’s always good to see why they didn’t like it, of course) … but “the characters seemed a little dull to me” does help you. Is there a way you can make them more exciting? How? I just bet you’re gonna put that into your next story, aren’t you?

5: You Just Don’t Have New Material

Many authors (including me) suddenly realize that other people are writing books just like theirs. Now, this is a legit fear … but it’s also a lie. Why? (or rather how … because those two statements contradict each other …)

Every year, somewhere between 600,000 and a million books are published. That’s a lot of competition! Some of those books are yours. Many of those books are probably better than yours. A hundred or so will be best sellers; one or two may even live on to become classics.

But why is other people are writing books just like yours a lie? Here are three reasons.

Those other authors aren’t you.

Nobody is like you. It’s in the Bible, for goodness’ sake! Normally I don’t buy into that ‘I’m special … I’m unique … I can be whatever I want to be … I’m worthy … I … I … I-phone’ junk, but …

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. ~Psalm 139:13

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations. ~Jeremiah 1:5

What is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him? Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. ~Psalm 8:4-5

You see what I mean? There will never be another Annelika Wazalika, Josephina Hosephina, or [insert your name here]. So it stands to reason that there will never be another author like you. Only you can bring what you bring to the table writing desk.

People read the same stupid books over and over again anyway.

Even if you are someone other author’s clone, so what? People read the same stupid books over and over again … with the same stupid plots … the same stupid settings … and the same stupid characters. *shrugs*

(Yes, I am partially kidding … but it’s true! “There’s nothing new under the sun.”)

You could really bless someone.

I don’t care what you say about being an awful writer, about your stories being terrible, about your ideas being stupid. So what? No one has lived the life you have … and you have a new message, a new idea, to teach someone.

Who is that someone? I don’t know. I plan to keep writing until the right story reaches the right person and that person is blessed by it.

Is that blessing simply a story well-wrought that distracts a depressed teen from an abusive childhood? Is it the book that will launch an annoyed third grader into a life of reading? Is it simply showing someone bored with history that the past is just as exciting as the present if not more so? Is it some deep message that will benefit them as they walk through life?

I don’t know. But whatever it is and whoever the person who needs to receive it might be, I hope and pray that God will guide me to write the words needed … and the person to accept them.

In Conclusion

There are many things that drive excellent authors to give up on their stories. However, I’d say that the main one is lack of self-esteem. I know it’s hard to remember sometimes, but, although you may not be special (yes, I did just say that!), you can be special because God made you – you, Hooper Humperdink! – an individual person with the ability to become an amazing human being … and through Him you will be special.

So write!

Th – th – th – that’s all, folks!

*hums Looney Tunes theme*

~Kellyn Roth

Discussion Questions

Do you ever feel like giving up? Why?
Are you inclined to post-writtem depression? How ’bout mid-writtem depression? Or pre-writtem depression? Yes, I’m making these all up … probably …
Have you ever eaten anything Indian (as in Asian Indian not American Indian)? I’m having a guy (circa 1870s) talk about Indian cuisine and … yeah. It ain’t working for me.
What is your biggest problem with your current WIP? Is there any way I can help? (DON’T SAY YES I KNOW NOTHING!)
Do you like Looney-Tunes?
Do I have a crazy philosophy of life that should be banned with all my ‘not special on your own power’ and ‘words aren’t actually bad unless you let them be’ junk?
How are you at inspiring people? If you’re good, can you rub on me a little? I mean … theoretically or … not literally. Unliterally. Unliterally rub on me … ’cause otherwise it’d be weird … ;P
One time while I was at camp, a girl got dared to pretend to be a cat and rub up against someone mewing.
I just had to chase a boy and hug him. *shivers* After I caught up to him, we just did a side hug (or a guy hug? What do you call those hugs-that-aren’t-really-hugs?), though, ’cause it was a Christian camp and boy, am I glad! (no offense to the boy … just … eesh …)
How long before a book is published would you recommend doing the cover reveal? (What?)

February 2017 Dares

Well, it’s time for another round of dares! *shivers* Seriously, though, guys! How time flies! (Wow, I’m a poet! Which … is actually true … unlike most of the stuff I post on this blog … haha, what? I did not just say that …)

Before you sink your juicy whites into this pearly post (wait …), a brief announcement. This will be the only post on Reveries this week, I’m afraid. I need more brain space. ;)Next Monday, however, we’ll resume with our regular schedule.

Now, on to the dares! Well, you know, a recap of last month’s dares, anyway, because obviously you want to end with fresh hopes instead of faded ones … because I seriously fail at everything I tell myself to do here … but anyway! On with the show! Er, post!

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(See the original dares here.)
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Read twenty books. Check! Twenty-two (counting the book I intend on finishing right after I push ‘publish’). You can view them here.
Review all twenty of those books on Goodreads. Failed. This was a stupid goal, anyway …
Read at least one nonfiction novel. Failed. I’m just not good at nonfiction … reading it … writing it … you should have seen the essay I wrote on The Lone Ranger … I went on and on about the magic …

Flowers, Part 3

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Well, ladies and gents, it’s time for part three of my fantastical short story, Flowers. Are you excited? No? Well … I am. *pouts* I can’t believe you don’t like my book …

Oh, you were just teasing? *wipes brow* Whew. I was worried for a minute that you all secretly hating me and were pity-following me.

Have you ever pity-followed someone? I haven’t. I follow the people whose posts I want to read. What kind of sick human being are you!?

Okay, back on subject. You can read Parts 1 and 2 here. If you haven’t, head over and do so!

Before we return to all the amazingness of Flowers, I’d like to encourage you to sign up for the blog tour of The New Diary by Hanna Kraft. I’m hosting it on Reveries Reviews, and it’d be great to have a more bloggers participate. It will run from February 1st (Wednesday) to February 4th (Saturday). Please sign up if you’re able.

Now, let’s read!

Part Three

 

“I am so bored,” Adele told Judy as they sat on the kitchen table and counter respectively. Camilla slept in her basket on the floor, making soft cooing sounds every once and a while.

“We could go outside,” Judy suggested.

Adele shook her head. “Nothing to do outside. Besides, it’s raining.”

“Well,” Judy said slowly, “We can’t leave the kitchen because it smells so bad in there with all the chemicals Granny and Aunt Lola are using. So perhaps we’d better find something to do outside. I have galoshes. So do you, I think. We could put Camilla somewhere under an umbrella.”

Adele laughed. “Judy, Camilla is a baby, not a doll. She’s not Marilou; she’s a human being. We can’t just put her down anywhere. She has to have special care.”

“All right. You’ll have to carry here, then, until we find a special place,” Judy decided. “I can’t carry her; she’s too heavy.”

“She is a fat little baby,” Adele agreed, glancing fondly at her youngest.

After Adele and Judy got into their rain clothes, they stood together looking down at Camilla.

“How are we going to carry her?” Judy asked, breaking the silence.

Adele shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“You could put her in sling like a papoose.”

“A papoose?” Adele asked incredulously.

“An Indian baby.”

“I know what a papoose is. I just don’t know why you do,” Adele explained. “Is Troy  telling you more wild tales?”

“Yes,” Judy said quietly, tears filling her eyes at the mention of her beloved father.

Adele didn’t want any drama on her hands, so she quickly moved on. “Well, let’s see. I suppose we could fashion a sort of a sling.”

“And you could carry her on your back,” said Judy, her face brightening.

“Mm … yes.” But Adele sighed. She was asked more of every day, it seemed. Her shoulders felt tight and her head ached as it was, and for no particular reason. Everyone expected so much of her now. Why did they think that just because she had done one unselfish thing, a lot of other similar actions would follow? But how could she disappoint them now? Especially Troy. He might leave her, and she couldn’t let that happen. She just couldn’t. Why, she hadn’t even told him -!

Not now. She’d think about it later.

Adele bent over and scooped Camilla up in her arms. The baby opened her eyes and looked up at her mother without a sound. Adele caught her breath.

“Hello, Camilla,” she whispered.

Judy climbed up on the chair and leaned against Adele, peering down at the baby. “Isn’t she pretty?”

“I guess,” Adele said, shrugging her shoulders. “Look, the rain’s stopped. Let’s go now.”

Judy nodded and went to open the door. They stepped out together and surveyed the yard. Troy had cleared out a large patch of weeds leaving only brown dirt in their place, but the rest of the garden was badly unkept.

Adele winced. To her, there was no greater ugliness than the neat garden Troy had started with its rows and mounds of dirt, neatly groomed with little vegetable seedlings peeping up at regular intervals.

The rest of the garden, the tangle of wild, uncontrollable weeds, didn’t appeal to her any more than the rigid rows. Once, she might have stubbornly insisted she loved the choking foliage – to be different, to be special, to have an idea no one else had had before, like all her friends. They all had ideas, about what clothes you should wear, about how women should be treated, about how the government should be shunned and tradition thrown away and morals tossed to the wind, about how their elders should have no input on their lives. They were a generation full of ideas, and Adele was just glad to be a member.

But not anymore.

She was not one of them.

Now she saw the beauty – the true beauty – was destroyed by these noxious weeds; choked out before it reached the sunlight. Troy had his way of dealing with the invaders; Adele didn’t know what hers was yet. However, she was ready to discover it.

“We should clear out these weeds,” Judy said.

“Mm,” Adele replied, neither confirming or denying this statement. She adjusted Camilla in her arms and glanced up. The clouds were clearing away and the sun was starting to shine through. Adele sighed. “No,” she said. “Not now. It must be beautiful.”

“If the weeds are gone, it will be beautiful,” Judy suggested.

“No,” Adele murmured sadly, “The scars remain until you cover them. We should be able to cover the scars as soon as the ugly comes off.”

“I guess,” Judy said, face wrinkled in confusion. What scars?

“But where can I find some flowers in this world anymore?” Adele mumbled to herself. “Did Millie save the seedlings? Is she caring for them? I didn’t think they’d be this important, but they are. I’ll have to find out.” She turned and walked quickly back into the house.

Judy, used to her mother’s moods, sighed and followed.

In a moment, Camilla was stowed safely in her cradle – fussing, but unharmed – and Adele was on the telephone.

“So can you bring them?” she summed up after a long speech.

“You want me to just come out there, thirty miles, in the pouring rain with your seedlings?” Millie repeated, plainly shocked.

“Yes,” Adele replied, not even blinking.

“I will,” Millie said after a brief hesitation.

“Thank you, Millie. I appreciate it.”

Millie’s sigh indicated that she didn’t believe her, but Adele hung up the receiver without further ado and turned to her daughter.

“Millie should be here in an hour or so. We can start taking out the weeds now.”

“We?” Judy asked quizzically.

Adele smiled grimly. “Your father taught you well. But yes, ‘we.’ I can weed.”

“You can?”

“Yes.”

Adele hesitated another moment, then kicked off her shoes and dropped to her knees. She began ripping out the weeds almost energetically. However, she soon stopped and turned to her daughter, irritation lining her face.

“Well, what are you just standing there for? Usually you’re a lot more diligent than I am!”

Judy knelt next to her mother, but continued gawking at her.

“Well, what’s wrong?”

“This is work,” Judy explained.

“I know.”

“You’ll get dirty.”

Adele laughed merrily. “Actually, Judy, I know all about dirt. I grew up in the country. Well, I spent my childhood in the country; I grew up in London. But that’s besides the point. Did you know that?”

Judy shook her head.

“Well, it’s true.”

“Did you like it?”

“Not much. I liked best to take trips to London with my father. My mother and brothers liked to call him ‘the Colonel,’ as if he had no other name, but he was always ‘Daddy’ to me. He was my idol.”

“When did you leave the country?” asked Judy, picking two weeds for Adele’s every one.

“When I was about twelve. Almost twice your age, but not quite. A few years after my father and brothers were lost.”

“Lost?”

“In a war, and in a way that I’ll never be able to find them again. They say this one will be much worse than the first one, but there’s no one left for me to lose unless the ‘bad guys’ win and come into England.”

Judy dropped the weeds she was holding and sat up.

“So it should follow,” Adele continued, “That I should have a much pleasanter time, though the world may suffer more than it ever has before. But I won’t think about it. Not now.” She dug in extra hard with her trowel. “But if that madman tries to take over my country, then I won’t sit still. He’s already making me worry, and I do hate to worry. I think it’s the worst emotion in the world.”

Judy emitted a panting sob. Adele turned to her, and she felt into her mother’s arms.

“Why, baby, what’s wrong?” Adele asked anxiously, arms tightening around her daughter and drawing her closer. “Shush, Judy, tell me.”

“I … I thought it was real,” Judy sobbed. “I thought it was all real.”

“I don’t understand. What did you think was real?”

“You,” Judy panted. “It’s been almost two years, and I … I was so sure.”

“Judy, I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

Judy drew back and rubbed her eyes. “I thought you loved Daddy. I thought you loved him like … like in the movies, and … I even thought you cared about people. Like the people in … Germany and Austria and … and the Jews and … Belgium and France and ….” Judy’s words trailed off into more tears.

Adele pulled Judy closer and made soft, soothing sounds like she would if Camilla were fussing and she was in a particularly motherly mood.

“Judy,” she said softly, when the girl’s sobs seemed to ebb a little, “I love you so much that I would give up anything for you … for the privilege of being with you. The same goes for Camilla. I just don’t always show it. And your father and I … we … we get along well, and he loves me, and I … I’m not sure. I’m still … disappointed because … I really would have liked to marry Mr. Acton. But I think – I know – I love your father somehow. I’m certainly fond of him.

“As for Europe,  I do care, and I see the death, the violence, the hatred, the injustice, but I just don’t like to think about it. It’s dreadful. Why should be constantly dwell on morbid things when the world is so full of sunshine?” She paused and glanced up, watching the last clouds ease their way beyond the horizon. “Just remember that I love you so very much, Judy,” she whispered at last.

Judy nodded slightly. “I love you, too.”

There was a long pause, then Adele spoke again. “Forgive me, Judy,” she whispered. “Forgive me for everything I’ve ever done – or not done – to you. Give me a second chance. Trust me to keep on being your mother. I can’t be perfect, but I’ve been doing my best these last two years. I’m changing, Judy.”

“I know,” the little girl replied softly. “I do trust you, but I want to be careful, I guess. Daddy says I’m, um, ‘naturally of a cautious nature,’ so maybe that’s why.”

“I understand that, Judy. It’s all right to be a little scared. But someday you’ll understand that I will never hurt you again.”

Judy smiled. “I guess I almost know that already, Mother.”

What do you think? Criticism is welcome, naturally, although if you’re like, “THAT WAS AWFUL STOP WRITING AAAAH!!!” then the border collies will get you. *wiggles eyebrows* *realizes how weird that looked* *hides*

*comes out of hiding* Before you go (I’ve been saying that a lot lately, but I have a lot on my mind!), I want to call your attention to the new look of Reveries! And yes, it is a work-in-progress. I have to replace a lot of stuff because the old theme by Megan had a lot of neat stuff. So, while I’m still tweaking it, what do you think? Any improvements to suggest? I want this to be the permanent theme of Reveries. Old-fashioned and writer-y.

Beautiful Books: Editing and Writing Goals

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Hi guys! You remember Beautiful Books, right? Well, you should. I did the link-up for October … but not for November. Because I forgot. And was too busy writing an awesome novel. (*insert sarcastic laugh*)

Well, we’re back in January to do the final Beautiful Books before Cait and Sky return to Beautiful People. This month’s theme is ‘editing and goals.’

Now, because Beautiful People is a month late, I’ve decided to rebel and not answer these author interview-y questions.

Instead, Miss Claire Marie Chattoway of The Dressmaker’s Secret will be answering them for me. *nods*

What were your writing achievements last year?

You … you were serious? I actually have to answer these questions?

Of course I was serious! I’m always serious.

As when you seriously ruined my life?

Okay, you go me there. That was with evil laughter and much chocolate. Answer the question.

These questions are for you!

I know. That’s why I’m not answering them! *makes sense*

Very well. If it pleased you.

It pleases me very much.

*sighs* First, she published The Dressmaker’s Secret. Though it’s not a secret; it’s just nobody’s business but my own. There’s nothing wrong with my life; I’m not hiding anything.

Then why –

Shush. You’re making me do this; at least let me finish. She also wrote, edited, and published a novella, The Lady of the Vineyard, which is set in the future.

Actually, it’s set in 1938, but to you, it’s set in the future, yes.

She also wrote (and to some extent edited) the second book in The Chronicles of Alice and Ivy, Ivy Introspective, and she outlined and wrote the first draft of At Her Fingertips, The Chronicles of Alice and Ivy, Book 3. Then there were some poems, a couple short stories, and some random plotting … but I think that’s about all, isn’t it?

Yep!

What’s on your writerly “to-do list” for 2017?

Re-revising The Dressmaker’s Secret, editing Ivy Introspective, republishing The Dressmaker’s Secret and publishing Ivy Introspective, editing At Her Fingertips, writing Beyond Her Calling and Interpreting Calling James, finishing and editing Flowers (a short story), and working on some other random projects.

That … was surprisingly accurate.

I have to listen to you babble often enough. I should learn something from it, shouldn’t it?

Yes, yes. It’s just a little, y’know … creepy.

Focus … and Re-Focus …

Well, guys, I’ve made a tough decision.

I’m going to focus on editing/revising Ivy Introspective and The Dressmaker’s Secret for these next couple months to the exclusion of all other projects.

What does that mean? No more Flowers?! Well, I’ve almost finished the story, and I think I need a second opinion to keep going. To see if it has an actual direction (because Bailey was wondering, and if Bailey was wondering …

A (Brief) Tour of My Room and Random Poems

I decided y’all need a tour of a published author’s room so when y’all are published authors, you’ll have some ideas for décor.

Okay, who am I kidding? I just want to show off my organizational skills … which are really awful, by the way.

To fend off the boredom, I’ve got a bunch of random poems posted at the end that I found in old notebooks while organizing (read: going through all my stuff). And a couple poems I wrote today, too.

Ready … set … picture #1!

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That’s my room. It’s very pink and girly. Most people don’t like pink (I think because it’s a girl color and everyone like, “If it’s popular, it must be awful!” Which is what happened to Frozen. Because Frozen is so awesome there’s no way no one could actually hate it.), but I love it!

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And that’s my, um, chest of drawers. Dresser? Dresser drawers? Something like that. Anyway, it’s the big white thing in the middle. And it has my radio and clock and a couple dolls I inherited from my grandma and sister (because she left the one on the left alone in the attic too long and I stole it) and a duckling (an Easter decoration I refuse to take down) and my jewelry box. Which is full of stuff I never use.

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I NEVER USE ANY OF THAT!

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This is my board of thumbtacks holding things to it piece of cardboard. (I’m sorry … I literally forgot what this thing is called!) Anyway, it has lots of pictures of me with other people occasionally showing up.

A Quick Blogging Tip

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I admit I came to the computer today with no post to give you. I sat down and logged into WordPress and created a new post and categorized it under “Noveling Advice” … and I waited.

Another glance at the schedule (because maybe my eyes deceived me the first time?) confirmed the fact that today is indeed a day for me to endow you with my other-worldly wisdom.

The problem? I have none.

Therefore, I decided to do a quick blogging tip instead.

Don’t Blog Unless You Have Something to Say

Not even if you have a scheduled post.

Your reader’s attention is more important than a schedule.

Thanks for reading,

~Kellyn Roth

p.s. I promise to actually do something Friday.

Guest Post: Five Secrets to Writing Fantasy

Hi, guys! Today I’m going to be hosting another guest post. I’m really excited to introduce Sarah of Riding for Jesus with her guest post, “Five Secrets to Writing Fantasy.”

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Hello everyone! I’m Sarah, and today Kellyn is letting me do a guest post on …

FIVE SECRETS OF WRITING FANTASY!

I love to write fantasy. It gives me a chance to create a whole new world of elves, dragons, heroes, heroines, brave men and women, amazing creatures … and the ultimate triumph of good over evil.

Arguably, fantasy is one of the best things in this world. But that doesn’t mean writing it is easy. Stories often pop into your mind, and you start … and 15 minutes later … WRITER’S BLOCK appears in flashing lights in your mind. Or you get to the exciting part … and nothing.

I have the same irritating problems, so I scoured my notes and books for some tips, which I now present to you.

1. Don’t wait for inspiration. Get out, take a walk, read a good book, look around for inspiration. I’ve written many of my characters off of real people, and many of my scenes and settings off of some of my favorite movies and places.

2. Get help. The worst thing you can do when having a creative block is to sit and stare at the wall for hours, trying to think of a way out (trust me, I’ve done this many, many times).

Ask a friend for ideas. Ask your followers! Google images that correspond with your ‘story sketch’ in your brain. For example, if you need a description of a magical country, look up ‘beautiful forest/mountains/plains,’ etc.

3. Use name generators. I used to think same generators were sort of … cheating, but I now use them often. VERY often. They are usually free and give you a way to easily find correct names for a race/species/human/etc. without scouring the web of baby name books.

For example, if you love the LOTR names for elves, just search it, and you’ve instantly got hundreds if not thousands of possibilities. The same goes for countries. I remember I used to name my countries weird names like ‘Mulianariath’ and ‘Gerdo.’ Name generators offer country and city names for whatever era, world, and even galaxy you like.

4. Fit the names with their races. I’ve read Lord of the Rings (LOTR) so many times I couldn’t count it. J. R. R. Tolkien was a genius with names. They all sound authentic, unique, and real. Real to that world at least.

All of his names fit the Middle-Earth styles of naming. For example, an elf would not be named Balin, but something like Lorinniel or Blorenfindel. Elf names are light, nice sounding, and ‘airy,’ while dwarf names are usually short, deep toned, and ‘earthy,’ like themselves. And even a dwarf does not have the guttural, gross-sounding names like orcs. Names must fit their character and his/her race to sound convincing and real.

5. Antagonists. Every good fantasy has some sort of antagonist – the bad guy. Whether that’s a disease or an evil dark lord out to rule the world, that’s up to you, but make him convincing. A disease does not just appear – it must have some origin – and a dark lord must have some reason or backstory as to why he wants to rule the world or how he became evil.

Sauron, the antagonist of the Lord of the Rings, wants the ring back because it will give him ultimate power. That is his reason for pursuing Frodo with such determination.

Also, try to give your antagonist a ‘human’ side. If you make him just plain evil, it will seem sort of bland. Give his character a twist or two. For example, Kylo Ren, in the new Star Wars, The Force Awakens, seems to be afraid of Snoke and of disappointing him. This may be what drives him to pursue Rey and Finn so ruthlessly.

I hope this helped! Thanks, Kell, for letting me do this, and thanks for reading!

-Sarah, www.sarahansonsite.wordpress.com

Hi there! I’m Sarah. I am a Christian and a homeschooler. I live in Montana, and I love writing, listening to awesome Christian bands (aka Newsboys, TobyMac or For KING and Country), drawing, blogging, taking photos, riding (I dream of riding racehorses still), participating in rodeos, showing my two amazing (and slightly crazy) horses, Donovan and Athena, and hanging out with my awesome youth group.

Does anyone else really, really want to write a fantasy novel now … at the same time knowing that you’re a historical fiction writer and should probably stick to your genre so you don’t confuse everyone?