Laura Roberts's Blog, page 57

Prism ponderings: Stunt Writing day 6

I’m doing things a little backwards today: writing before I go out for my walk.

Why?

Because I’m going to write a piece using the “prism” method and see how it works.

The concept is that you’re supposed to think of a person, place or situation you’ve been circling in your mind, then put it through a prism of weather, geography, history, politics, religion, culture, gender, or class.

Here is something I have been circling in my mind since yesterday. My husband is frustrated with his work life right now, and wants to get out of his 9–5 job. He’s an artist in several senses: a musician, a painter, a person with plenty of creative thoughts and ideas, but not enough time to express them. I told him that he needs to work on getting a work-from-home type of job, or starting his own business, instead of simply looking for another job to pay the bills. He told me that he was jealous of me, and all the free time I have, because I do work from home.

That shocked me. Not because I didn’t know that he was frustrated with the way things are, career-wise, but because he thinks my life is so great, and that he feels like he does everything to make it that way.

Now, I can’t say that he’s wrong, in many respects. His day job provides affordable healthcare for both of us, as well as a steady paycheck in the face of my feast-or-famine times as a freelancer. Since he has to drive to work each day, and we only have one car, he also is in charge of getting groceries and running other errands. His “normal” job does come with benefits that mine doesn’t.

On the other hand, I tend to make more money than he does during the “feast” cycles of my work. I pay all the bills. I remind him to get the cat food, or whatever other errands need to be done. And although I work from home, which means zero commute, it also means I stay in our apartment for most hours of the day, precisely because we don’t have a second vehicle for me to use when I want to go someplace else. It’s not a perfect life. I’m not saying it’s a bad one, but it’s not quite the bastion of free time he imagines it to be. I do, after all, work at home — it’s not as if I am just lazily writing up blog posts and talking windy walks to gather my creativity. Indeed, I have had to force myself to walk for 30 minutes every day precisely because I am working so much, and staying chained to my desk is terrible for my health. My right shoulder hurts pretty much all the time now, due to overuse, and I’m certainly not burning off all the calories I consume.

Like they say, the grass is always greener.

But getting back to the prism angle, I have been wondering how I can help him achieve a lifestyle more like mine. I know he would much rather work from home, preferably doing something artistic. But I also know that art usually doesn’t pay the bills (even I, freelance writer, have a day job). I know that his goal is to ultimately sell merch that will support his artistic works (t-shirts, fridge magnets, etc.), so I have made some suggestions like using Teespring to test out t-shirt designs, rather than trying to screenprint them all himself.

I feel like there is some angle of the prism I can’t see here, because I’m not sure how to best offer my assistance. I think that he thinks my ideas will not work, because he believes they are either too difficult to implement or too creatively “sell-out-ish.” Like, he is the consummate artist, never wanting to give away his best ideas. And yet that is exactly how the Internet has made things work. (I’ve been reading Show Your Work! by Austin Kleon, and this is the basic core of his book.) When I try to share that message with him, he gets angry. He wants to know how artists are supposed to make a living, if they are being told to give their work away for free. And I understand his anger, because I share it to some degree. I don’t want to give my hard work away for free!

But that’s part of the point. If you don’t let anyone into your process until it’s complete, how can they connect with you? You don’t have to give away the end product (in fact, you should definitely charge for that!), but you have to give away glimpses of the work-in-progress, the process itself, the behind-the-scenes and the cutting-room floor. You have to start drawing people into your artwork before the art itself is finished, because all those sneak peeks keep them coming back for more, get people more and more invested in seeing that final result. They want to know how you do what you do.

Isn’t that what a blog is? A peek behind the curtains at the wizard manning the gears?

I try to tell him that, and he doesn’t want to hear it.

Perhaps it is a gender gap. Perhaps it is a technological divide. Perhaps it is a frustration with all things computer-related. Perhaps it is a feeling that providing all of those “DVD extras” is just too much work.

Well, yeah, it is. But that’s what builds up your audience, or so the theory goes. Connecting with people as you create your art is the way to link people’s interest in you as a person to your art as a finished product.

That’s the thing about working from home, or being a freelancer, or being an artist. They’re all the same in this sense: you have to do it all yourself. Or, you have to farm different pieces of it out to another freelancer, but either way, you have to be the boss, the CEO, the head honcho, the chef bossing everybody else in the kitchen around to create the product you see so clearly in your mind.

I guess I have always been an entrepreneur in that sense; I have always wanted to work on my own, create my own products, and then sell them to others. When I was younger, my best friend and I wrote a rag sheet called Gossip World and sold it for a nickel a piece to friends and family. We set up our own “office” in one or the other’s bedroom, with several typewriters purchased at garage sales, and typed up our one-sheets by hand. We asked permission to use her mother’s copy machine to create additional copies. Maybe we didn’t make a shitload of money with it, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that we had this mindset of doing it ourselves, the will and desire to do it, and the tenacity to see it through. We learned the process to create what we wanted to create, and then we did it. We had plans and executed them.

Sure, it was a simpler time. Sure, it was easier when we got off school at 3 PM and could devote the rest of our waking hours to such things. But couldn’t we all still do the same today?

In some respects, we have it way easier. Type up a few words on your phone on your lunch break, post them to your blog, and hit “publish.” Blammo, you’re in print.

I think he could be building his audience with a once-weekly blog post, written on his lunch break. Hell, I could even ghostwrite it for him, if that’s what he wants. I am an expert at this kind of stuff. I mean, I have been writing and publishing my own work — and the work of others — since 2004. That’s more than a decade of experience. Does he not trust me? Is he afraid to ask?

I guess the problem is that he doesn’t have a plan. All he knows is that he hates his job, and he wants out, but he doesn’t know what to do next. I can tell him to make a plan, which sounds simple enough, but really isn’t that easy. How do you make an escape plan when you don’t know where you want to go? How do you map out a course for yourself when you don’t have any idea how to get from Point A to Point B, much less Points X, Y and Z?

Maybe all I can do is make suggestions. I would like him to read Show Your Work! and see if it changes his perspective any, or gives him any ideas. I will keep offering to help. I will keep telling him I am here for him. But ultimately, he has to be the one to implement the changes, to take up the challenge.

I just worry about what will happen if he doesn’t.

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Defining Film Noir: Stunt Writing day 5

I took Sunday off for good behavior.

Actually, that’s a lie. I took Sunday off because on Saturday I went to the gym, as I usually do, and then came home too exhausted to do much more than watch some noir flicks, hence I didn’t write anything to post on Sunday.

But I did hit my 5k step goal, even if I didn’t write about it!

So, in lieu of my Sunday post, here is a list of all the noir flicks I’ve watched this summer, as part of my education in the Film Noir course I took on Canvas:

99 River Street
The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse (which takes the award for Most Blatant Innuendo in a Noir Title!)
The Big Sleep
Blue Gardenia
Detour
D.O.A.
Double Indemnity
The Hitch-Hiker
In A Lonely Place
Gilda
Kansas City Confidential
Kiss Me Deadly
The Lady from Shanghai
Laura (of course!)
The Maltese Falcon
Murder, My Sweet
Out of the Past
Pitfall
Scarlet Street
The Strange Love of Martha Ivers
The Stranger
The Third Man
Too Late for Tears

Love this cover!

I still have a ton more I want to see, though some can’t be found anywhere online. For instance, I’ve been trying to find The Blue Dahlia, but no such luck – even the YouTube versions have been taken down (except for the trailers). I hope this means someone’s restoring it so I can give it a proper viewing soon!

I’ve also been working my way through TCM’s “Summer of Darkness” listings, to see which flicks I can find in the public domain and/or streaming on Netflix or Amazon (sadly, you can’t subscribe just to TCM, and my cable company’s packages are crummy… so I keep hoping TCM will create something like HBO Now so I can subscribe and watch their awesome movies!). I may have to resort to borrowing noir flicks from my local library, if they’re available on DVD, to watch the rest.

In the meantime, I’ve borrowed some noir books from the library, to keep my education going even after the class is over. Here’s what I’m reading:

Dark City: The Lost World of Film Noir by Eddie Muller
Ida Lupino: A Biography by William Donati
In A Lonely Street: Film Noir, Genre, Masculinity by Frank Krutnik
Shades of Noir: A Reader edited by Joan Copjec
Women in Film Noir edited by E. Ann Kaplan

If all that wasn’t exciting enough, Eddie Muller’s going to be a guest in our last week of the class, so I’m trying to think of some intelligent questions to ask the Czar of Noir!

I’m also trying to come up with a good one-line definition for film noir… so far I’ve come up with this:

Damned dames, dirty deals & dead ends!

What do you think? How would you define film noir in a single sentence?

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Wherein I put out a real-life fire: Stunt Writing day 4

I’m writing this on Friday evening, just before I retire to the bedroom for some hard-earned movie watching with my husband.

Guess what? I didn’t go for an official walk today. You see, Fridays are my designated days off for the week (my husband gets Fridays and Saturdays off, and I like to mirror his weekends so that we can spend quality time together), and I usually have about a half-day of actual work, so this morning I finished up my work, did some laundry, and had a nice breakfast cooked by my lovely husband.

And then we decided to hit the grocery store for a few items.

After chuckling with the clerk about my husband’s t-shirt (it says “I’m married to a smoking hot writer,” and the clerk was like “Well, you are hot… but are you a writer?”), we headed back to our car with our purchases in tow.

Proof that my husband really does exist, and does wear this t-shirt (sometimes with no pants).

Now, to set the scene, it’s southern California. Despite the sprinkling of rain earlier in the week, we’re in a going-on-4-years-now drought. So the vegetation around here, if it’s still alive, is quite dry.

As we were loading stuff into our trunk, I noticed a truck had backed into the space ahead of ours. I mostly noticed this because I saw smoke coming from the tailpipe, which I first mistook for smoky exhaust — but then quickly realized was actually a small fire!

The truck’s hot tailpipe had actually ignited a tall patch of decorative grass, and a small fire was erupting!

I ran over to the truck, and tapped on the guy’s window to alert him of the problem. The guy quickly pulled the vehicle away from the fire and into another spot, while my husband grabbed one of the gallons of water we’d luckily just purchased and began dousing the flames.

At first, it didn’t look like the fire was going to be contained! I was worried that the guy’s truck was going to ignite, since the flames quickly leaped up from the grass, and could’ve jumped to his tires. And my husband poured almost a full gallon of water onto the flames before he managed to put it out!

The driver of the truck came over and emptied the water out of his cooler onto the brush as well, and my husband said “Crisis averted!”

It was kind of amazing how quickly smoke turned to fire. And how scary it all could’ve been, if we hadn’t jumped in to help. I mean, what if that guy’s truck had caught fire? I’m not sure whether or not a gas tank really explodes like in the movies, but I certainly didn’t want to find out! Plus, the other people in the parking lot were mainly elderly folks, who weren’t quite as able-bodied as we were. What if we’d just packed up the trunk and driven home?

But thankfully the fire was quickly contained, and we didn’t even have to call the fire department. However, we did have a small audience of fellow shoppers. They were like “Wow, nice work!” and “Whoo, that’s your excitement for the day, eh?”

One of the store’s employees saw the whole thing go down, and even gave us a replacement gallon of water.

So, to make a long story short (too late!), I’ve realized that:

Dry brush + tailpipes don’t mix — watch where you park that thing!
A great headline for a potential story in the local paper about this incident would be “Smoking Hot Writer Douses Smoking Hot Flames!” (even though, technically, it was my smoking hot husband who did the dousing)
Life’s short, so don’t get sidetracked from your goals!

That last one inspired me to finally sit my butt in the chair and finish writing the first 5,000 words of a book proposal I’ve been meaning to send in for a few months now. I wrote up my synopsis for the book, as well as the first three chapters, and sent them in to a UK publishing company. Now I’m just keeping my fingers crossed that they like what I’ve got!

So…

What did you do today? And what would the headline in your local paper read about your exploits?

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A lunchtime jaunt on a broken sidewalk: Stunt Writing day 3

I need to keep today’s post short and sweet, because I’ve got a lot of work to do, and it’s already almost 3 PM as I’m typing this.

Today’s walk was closer to 45 minutes, and I logged 4,813 steps with my Fitbit. Woohoo!

This time I decided to take my walk as part of my lunch hour, and headed to the grocery store closest to my house, which has an amazing salad bar. I made my patented Lauralicious® salad to go, grabbed some green salsa, black beans, parmesan cheese and a bottle white wine as ingredients for tonight’s dinner, paid, and headed back to my place for lunch.

I didn’t really ponder anything on today’s walk, except the weird fact that my town seems to have “selective sidewalks.” There are sidewalks outside of businesses, but otherwise you kind of have to walk carefully on the shoulder of the streets here. It’s definitely not my favorite way to walk, seeing as I always feel I’m about to be run over by a car, so this has also been part of my excuse for not going out for daily walks in the past.

I’ll try to remember to take some pictures of the sidewalks, to illustrate my point, next time I go out.

In the meantime, here’s a sidewalk haiku for you:

where the sidewalk ends

broken pavement trips

intrepid hikers. slow down,

watch yourself walking.

Not quite Shel Silverstein caliber, but it’ll have to do for now!

See you on the flip side…

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Stunt Writing Day 2: Of flowers and flâneurs

It’s noon. I’m just starting my 30-minute writings after a 35–40 minute walk, and some much-needed cool-down in front of a fan.

Tomorrow, I think I may just jump into the pool after my walk!

One of the many flowers seen on my walk today.

Here’s a list of things that I took with me today:

Sunglasses (the rain has stopped, and SoCal is back to its usual sunny self!)
Aluminum water bottle (heat + exercise = thirst)
Trusty Fitbit Zip (to track my steps — I got up to 4,581 today)
My “smart“phone (it is seriously one of the dumbest models on the market — if you can even still purchase one like it… I can’t even get it to upload pictures I take to the Internet, and it was a terrible struggle just to get it to email me my own images)
Neon yellow notebook + pink pen (for taking notes, of course!)
Print copy of my book, San Diego from A to Z , which I intended to proof poolside (I’ll have to remember to do this tomorrow, before I jump in!)

Today I was pondering the line between communication and creepiness, as I met several fellow humans out on my walk.

The first was an elderly woman with a walker loaded down with all kinds of baggage. She said hello as we passed, so I replied with a “Good morning!”

The second woman I passed on my walk smiled, so I returned the favor.

The third woman seemed intent on ignoring me, despite my smile, so I followed suit. At least she didn’t plow right into me, right?

Another flower from my walk — possibly a bluebonnet. Any nature lovers know what either of these are called?

Out on my walks, I’m not entirely sure what persona I am playing. Having previously been a more dedicated walker at different times in my life, I know there are a few “types” out there. Some of them are:

The Dedicated Exerciser — does not want to be disturbed, usually has headphones in, and is strutting to a set rhythm
The Ambler — out for a stroll, no headphones, observing the world around them and usually says “hello” or “good morning” as you pass
The Smoker — similar to the Ambler, the Smoker is strolling more casually, usually only to have something to do whilst smoking
The Cell Phone Talker — like the Smoker, the Cell Phone Talker is walking while talking, and the exercise is not the important part; s/he may simply be pacing back and forth, or actually walking aimlessly — these people can also look like Insane People Talking To Themselves, particularly when using bluetooth headsets (always creepy)
The Dog Walker — whether sporting one or many dogs on leashes (and sometimes without!) the Dog Walker can be a retiree, a professional, or just a pet owner out for a stroll with their dog, though these types can be further subdivided into the Dog Walkers On A Mission (usually to get to a park) or the Pooper Scoopers (simply taking the dog out to do its business, then get back to their own)
The Weirdo — there are, unfortunately, more weirdos in my current neighborhood that I would like, mostly because I can’t quite figure out whether they are the harmless weirdos or the ones that will set upon you with furious unprovoked anger.

Let’s explore one of these Weirdos in more detail.

The first one I think of, from my current neighborhood, is the Cat Walker. Cats do not, generally, like to go out for walks on a leash as dogs do. Some people may claim to have trained their cats to do so, though if you can truly train a cat to do anything aside from eat at a set time daily, I think you may actually own a dog trapped in a cat’s body. The Cat Walker is the type of weirdo that strikes me as mentally unstable. I’m not sure if he is clinically diagnosed (there is, after all, a mental health facility nearby), but the look in his eye when you pass him suggests he is either about to veer over and talk at you nonstop or possibly throttle you.

When I see him, I typically steer clear. I do not want to talk to the Cat Walker.

My husband says he has seen him with his cat, asking people if they want to pet the cat. Since, as I said before, cats do not typically walk on a leash, the fact that he is carrying his cat around our apartment complex is decidedly odd.

The Cat Walker may be utterly harmless, but I still have no desire to pet his cat or talk to him. I don’t want to give him the impression that I am friendly, because many people (men, specifically) seem inclined to purposely mistake friendliness for flirtiness, and I am quite tired of that stupid argument. Also, petting a stranger’s cat seems suggestive in and of itself. (I’m an erotica writer; let’s not play dumb here, okay?)

Don’t pet this pussy! “Nasty cat!” image by Flickr user Hannibal Poenaru

But to get back to some of the types I was mentioning earlier, I do wonder which type I fall under. Am I the Exerciser? Not really. I tend to walk at a pretty quick pace when alone, but I’m not speed-walking. I am still too fast to be considered an Ambler, for the most part, although I am seeking some observations.

I think the best category for me is Flâneur.

A Flâneur is a stroller, a lounger, a loafer. But a Flâneur is also someone in search of specific experiences while strolling; the Flâneur is not simply wasting time, but soaking up her surroundings.

As Wikipedia notes, quoting Baudelaire (from ‘The Painter of Modern Life,” originally published in Le Figaro, in 1863):

The crowd is his element, as the air is that of birds and water of fishes. His passion and his profession are to become one flesh with the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate spectator, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude, amid the ebb and flow of movement, in the midst of the fugitive and the infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel oneself everywhere at home; to see the world, to be at the centre of the world, and yet to remain hidden from the world […] The spectator is a prince who everywhere rejoices in his incognito. The lover of life makes the whole world his family […] Thus the lover of universal life enters into the crowd as though it were an immense reservoir of electrical energy. Or we might liken him to a mirror as vast as the crowd itself; or to a kaleidoscope gifted with consciousness, responding to each one of its movements and reproducing the multiplicity of life and the flickering grace of all the elements of life.

So here is a (near) haiku I wrote in praise of the Flâneur:

flânerie

ambling languidly

observing passionately

transcribing memories

So…

What kind of walker are you?

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Stunt Writing Day 1: Here’s how this works…

Just like on TV, with their 10-second delay to prevent any cuss words from transmitting over the airwaves and infecting the minds of impressionable viewers, my blog’s got a bit of lag time.

One day, to be precise.

So yesterday I wrote about my plan to get myself out of the house and moving my lazy butt in a daily 30-minute walking gambit. Today I took my first 30-minute walk. Go me!

I did this, despite the fog and peculiar scene of water falling from the sky.

This is sunny SoCal, after all. People here just do not get rain. (Particularly since we’ve been in a drought for the past 4 years.)

Anywhoozle, though I did not actually get up an hour earlier to complete my mission, I did succeed in walking for 30 minutes.

And now I am writing for another 30 minutes, to complete my stunt.

So here’s a laundry list of things that I saw on my walk today:

Water falling from the sky (spoiler: it was wet)
Various handymen and workers around my apartment complex, struggling to look busy
A mom (babysitter?) instructing a kid to say hi to me as I walked past. The kid said no, he doesn’t talk to strangers. (Smart kid!)
A variety of pretty flowers (I would’ve snapped some pix, but didn’t want to get my camera/phone wet)
A woman walking into the post office who stopped to double-check her skirt, thinking it was bunched up in the back (it wasn’t)
Lots of people checking their P.O. boxes, including a woman who was short enough that she had to jump up and down to see if there was anything else stuck in the back of the box (there wasn’t)
A few neighbors walking their dogs and discussing the unusual weather we’re having (aforementioned water falling from the sky)
One very suspicious-looking gray car circling around the complex (which I think I scared off by pulling out my phone and pretending to call the cops; I will actually call the police if I see it again tomorrow, since there are lots of creepers around here that are up to no good)

I now feel like one of Jane Jacobs’ sidewalk patrollers.

In fact, let me write a haiku about that for today’s stunt.

sidewalk patrol

step lively, keep watch.

rain falls, gray cars pass, phone out,

salute, stranger flees.

That’ll do.

In conclusion, here are a few images of San Diegans trying to cope with rain by transforming those showers into artistic photography:

“Seems it never rains in southern California” image by Flickr user peasap

“Sailors practice security maneuvers in the rain” image by Flickr user Official U.S. Navy Page

“The Elusive San Diego Rain Puddle Reflection” image by Flickr user Patrick Merritt

“River Rainclouds” image by Flickr user M. Dolly

Check back tomorrow, same time, for more daily haiku, walk observations, and pix!

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Cockpit: An excerpt + #giveaway from Kate Deveaux

High school sweethearts re unite forty years later at 37,000 feet.

Fifty eight year old commercial airline pilot, Bobbi Cooper, gets a blast from the past when her high school sweetheart, Mack McConnell, appears as one her first class passengers on her 747 transatlantic flight to London.

Used to being in control at all times, Bobbi is reeling from a crummy marriage and she must learn at Mack’s capable hands that losing control can be oh so sexy.

An excerpt from Cockpit

Bobbi hadn’t seen him in ages. Since high-school senior year, exactly forty years ago. She only knew that because she’d thrown the fortieth reunion packet in the trash the last time she’d been at home long enough to open her mail.

Mack shook his head. “I don’t believe it. They said Captain Bob Cooper was flying the plane. Not in a million years did I think it would be you. Bobbi Cooper. I’d heard you were flying for Atlantica,” he said with a sexy smile.

Oh, and that smile. Those lips. She wondered what else he’d heard. Her cheeks burned. She hoped she could avert any small talk about her disastrous marriage, which she was sure must have filtered back to him through the small-town grapevine of Summer Hill, North Carolina.

“Yup. I’m a captain,” she said quickly, then paused, laughing with embarrassment at having stated the obvious. She motioned to the four gold stripes on the epaulettes on her starched white uniform shirt. “Well, I guess you can see that.”

“Yes, I can.” His eyes lingered on hers and she felt her cheeks flame hot as she shifted uncomfortably in the aisle.

“You going to London?” she asked more nervously than she would have liked, trying to think of something to say. Some sort of filler. Anything to distract from that feeling she got when he looked at her, a cross between anxiety and pleasure. “I mean, of course you’re going to London—everyone is.” The words tumbled quickly from her lips.

Mack laughed. That hearty laugh. Still the same, all these years later. Even a bit deeper than she remembered. Yes, his voice was definitely deeper. She guessed that was what forty years did. If that were all it had done to her, she’d be laughing. Age was much crueler to women than to men, she’d decided when she’d turned fifty.

His eyes were an even darker blue than she remembered. Shit, that had been a long time ago. Her cheeks burned even hotter and her heart beat faster as she wondered if he remembered those nights at the lake so many years ago.

“I’ve got some business in London for a couple of days and then on to a conference in Brussels,” Mack said, answering her question, making her jolt back to the conversation. “I just can’t get over that it’s you. It’s really is good to see you, Bobbi. I mean, what are the odds of us meeting twenty thousand feet up in the air?” he asked, still shaking his head.

“Thirty-seven thousand,” she said, finding her voice and correcting him.

“Right, Captain, thirty-seven thousand feet in the air. Why don’t you sit down for a minute and catch up?” he asked, motioning to the unoccupied seat next to him.

“Oh, Mack,” she said, catching the eye of the passenger across the aisle, who must have been wondering what the captain was doing loitering about the cabin, nearly swooning over an old flame. “I gotta run to the back… and then we’ll be landing soon.”

“Of course. I forgot, this is work for you.”

“That it is. Good seeing you, Mack,” she said, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him on the shoulder just once. For old time’s sake.

Buy Links

Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Ellora’s Cave

About the Author

Kate Deveaux is a contemporary, erotic romance writer and die-hard romantic. It was after reading Jane Eyre in high school, that she became hooked on the idea of writing about romance, excitement and drama. Kate has been penning stories, from the sensual to the sinfully sexy, ever since!

A former wedding planner, Kate has always been “in love” with love! She was inspired to transition from writing racy short stories to full length manuscripts after meeting other authors in the romance world at industry workshops, conferences and events. Originally from England, now resides in the U.S. with her husband. When she’s not writing or reading, Kate can be found on the tennis court—yes, there’s even “love” in that game too!

You can find Kate on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Goodreads, Google+, and her website, KateDeveaux.com.

Giveaway

Kate will be awarding a $15 and a $20 Amazon or B&N gift card to randomly drawn winners via Rafflecopter during the tour. To enter, use the widget below — and don’t forget to follow the rest of the tour and comment. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning! All tour stops can be found here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Stunt Writing: How to change your life in only 3 weeks

I’ve been taking the a noir class on the Canvas network, which I’ve been enjoying immensely, so when I poked around a bit more on the site and discovered a class called “Stunt Writing for Personal Growth,” (which just started yesterday) I immediately signed up.

I’m already a stunt writer, after all: I’m hooked on the thrill of writing challenges, from NaNoWriMo to the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge to the 3-Day Novel Contest. But have I ever really thought about writing as a way to grow and change as a person?

In the past, I’ve certainly used writing as a way to understand myself better, to explore my own thoughts and feelings, and even as therapy. I’ve always considered writing the way that I best work through issues and problem-solve, whether I’m writing notes to myself, creating To Do lists, or just scribbling away. I’ve kept journals, both public and private. I’ve written about a variety of topics. I’ve used my writing to speak to myself as well as to others.

But lately, my writing – and my life in general – has fallen into a funk. I rarely leave the house, due to a feeling that I have too much work to do, a feeling of being almost chained to my desk, and therefore don’t get much physical activity at all. I need to break out of these bad habits, and this stale routine.

So, modeling my proposal on that of the course instructor, Erin Jourdan, here’s what I’m going to do about it:

STUNT WRITING FOR PERSONAL GROWTH: Parameters

I commit to walking & writing for 30 minutes every day.
My stunt is focused around: exercising my body and my mind.
I will consider this aspect of my life from 3 different perspectives, one each week for 3 weeks.

WEEK ONE: Poetry — Daily Haiku

WEEK TWO: Prose — Postcard Stories

WEEK THREE: Podcast — Walking & Talking

#1 Write a short paragraph about what your stunt is, this will be your “plan of attack.”

I have become stuck in a rut, narrowing both my actual physical space and worldview due to the fact that I work at home. I rarely leave the house, except to pop out to the mailbox every other day, and the lack of physical activity is taking its toll on my body as well as my mind. I propose to break out of this routine by doing the following:

I will wake up an hour earlier in order to head out for a daily walk, thus negating my “I don’t have time for exercise!” objections.
During my walk I will take note of anything interesting I see, make to do lists for the day, interact with people or simply enjoy some music on my headphones as I explore my town on foot.
I must walk for a minimum of 30 minutes, but my pace can be as leisurely as I like. I will also spend 30 minutes pondering and writing about the experience, ideally in a different place each day to further help shake up my routine.
My writing practice will focus on breaking out of my typical storytelling modes, by using haiku the first week, postcard-length stories the second, and recording brief podcasts while walking in week 3.
Writings will be posted on my blog, for accountability purposes.

#2 Create Restrictions: Removal, Consequences, Places, People, Research, Data, Change and Practice

–Change: I will take up daily walks.

–Removal: I will not stay cooped up in my house working all day! Instead I will remove myself from this boxed-in environment.

–Consequences: I will donate $10 to a cause I despise when I fail to go out for my daily walk.

–Places: I will walk to different places each day in order to circumvent boredom. Places to explore/walk to during the week include the library, bookstores, post office, grocery store, parks, restaurants, local boutiques, artisan displays. Places to walk on weekends include the beach, downtown, different neighborhoods, the mall, aquarium, Gaslamp Quarter, Balboa Park, Seaport Village, etc.

–Things: I will write haiku, postcard stories and podcast scripts as I go along.

–Research: I will investigate new places to take walks (and refer to http://www.frommers.com/trip-ideas/outdoor-adventure/11-great-walks-in-sunny-san-diego or http://www.carolmendelmaps.com/walking-tours/ for more ideas).

–Data: I will keep a log of my walks and writings on my blog.

–Practice: I will explore more of my city, and take at least one guided tour per week.

So…

What kinds of stunts will YOU participate in for the next three weeks?

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Deacon: An excerpt + #giveaway from Cheryl Douglas

When Deacon Starkis sets his sights on the gorgeous young model gracing the pages of his glossy catalogue, he knows he has to have her. One problem. She’s not available. But that won’t stop Deacon. He’s a man used to getting what he wants and he wants Mia.

Mia is stunned when she receives an email from the elusive billionaire who owns the lingerie company she models for. He tells her he’s intrigued. He’s not the only one. But she knows she’d be a fool to throw away an eight year relationship for a brief affair with the head honcho. He doesn’t do relationships and she doesn’t do casual sex. It seems they’re at an impasse.

Who will come out on top in this battle of wills? The dominant one or the woman intent on teaching him the meaning of submission?

An excerpt from Deacon

With the launch party at the forefront of my mind, I made my way downstairs to wardrobe. Half a dozen women turned, gaping at me. I rarely made personal selections for my models, but I didn’t think my presence warranted such stunned silence.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” I said, trying to hide my amusement.

“Hello, Mr. Starkis,” one of the women stammered. “How can we help you?”

“I’m here about the fashion show this weekend.”

She gestured toward several hanging racks. “Everything’s taken care of, sir. You’re welcome to have a look at the samples. They’re right over there.”

“I’d like to see what Mia Barnes will be wearing.”

Two women exchanged curious glances before one said, “Of course, Mr. Starkis. I’ll get those selections right away.”

I barely noticed the gorgeous models milling about half-naked, being fitted for the upcoming show. Many were trying to get my attention, smiling or giving me sultry looks as they met my eyes in the full-length mirror. They had been hand-selected for their talent and beauty, but none were Mia, therefore none held my attention for long.

“Here they are,” the harried, middle-aged woman with the blond bob and pixie skirt said. “I think these will look fabulous on Mia.” She laughed. “I’ve worked in this business a long time, and I can tell you it’s rare to find a model who looks amazing in everything she tries on. Most have some flaw they wish to hide, but not our Mia.”

I smiled tightly. Our Mia? Wrong. She was my Mia. “I’m sure you’re right, but that one won’t work,” I said, pointing at the lavender silk bra and matching panties on the white satin hanger. “Next.”

Looking stricken, the woman said, “But—”

“It’s lovely…?”

“Barbara.”

“It’s lovely, Barbara. Just not what I have in mind for Mia. May I see the next one?”

She held up a black lace bustier with a matching thong, looking apprehensive. She had every reason to be nervous. The only time I expected to see Mia parading around wearing that was

when she was modeling it for me.

“I want her to model the bridal collection.” I knew that was sexy yet demure.

“The bridal collection?” Barbara seemed stunned by my request.

“Is there a problem?”

“Um, no, but with Eleni’s darker coloring, I thought she would be perfect for the bridal collection.”

“You thought wrong,” I said, pinning her with a stare that brooked no argument. “Switch them. Eleni can wear these.” I gestured toward the pieces Mia had been slotted to wear. “Mia will model the bridal collection.”

“Of course, Mr. Starkis. Anything you say, sir.”

Buy Links

Amazon / B&N / Smashwords / iTunes

About the Author

When one door closes, another one opens. Cheryl Douglas closed the door to her business for the last time in 2011, which left her with a decision: What now? Find another location and move her nutrition business, go to work for someone else, or take a chance on her dream? She chose the latter and she’s never looked back!

Cheryl has always loved reading and writing, but it wasn’t until she jumped in with both feet and decided writing would be her career, instead of just a hobby, that her muse woke up from her deep slumber. It was like someone flipped a switch inside her head and stories just came pouring out. At the end of the day, she would often look at the keyboard and wonder, “Who the heck wrote that? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me!”

Cheryl doesn’t write books. She tells stories, or rather, she allows her characters to tell their stories through her. She’s not a plotter, never has been, never will be. Why? Because she has no idea how the story will evolve and it’s not her place to manipulate it. Her job is to get to know these characters, figure out what makes them tick, then follow their journey wherever it takes her. When she’s not writing, she’s daydreaming. Thankfully, she has an understanding husband and son who know she’ll re-join the land of the living just as soon as her muse decides it’s quitting time. Cheryl doesn’t work for herself. She works for her muse. She’s the boss. And Cheryl’s okay with that.

Connect with Cheryl on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads and her website, CherylDouglasBooks.com.

Giveaway

Cheryl Douglas will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B&N gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour. To enter, use the widget below — and don’t forget to follow the rest of the tour and comment. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning! All tour stops can be found here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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A Fool for Love: An excerpt + #giveaway from Susan Lute

When a gypsy caravan-style truck breaks down at Martha’s curbside, the last thing Zach Barret needs is an impulsive pixie rocking his boat. The more determined he is to stay away from the free-spirited, green-eyed nomad, the more he finds one kiss is not enough. Uncovering Alice York’s secrets in paintings of empty swings and merry-go-rounds puts a new priority in the top spot on his short list. But can he convince this stunning woman to park her truck permanently in his drive?

An excerpt from A Fool for Love

Zach turned his attention to Alice. Unfortunately he hadn’t put his best foot forward when he’d first encountered the foxy owner of the Ford. “Where were you headed when your fuel pump gave out?”

“Longview, Washington. Got a job there.”

“What kind of job, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind.” She nestled her chin in the palm of her hand, the sparkle in her eyes snapping with wry humor. “I work on classic cars.”

Remembering his first sight of her, he asked, “You’re a mechanic?”

“Does that surprise you?”

The subtle scent of vanilla coming from her side of the table sent rational thought on a long hike in the opposite direction from practical reason. It was a good thing he was a grown man who had the power to stand up to steamy distractions.

“No.” The stranger his granddad and Lucy had invited to stay in their basement, who said she slept in her truck when it broke down, could be anything from a burglar to a most wanted criminal.

Stunning green eyes studied him. The punch to his gut wasn’t that unpleasant.

Everything about the woman, the cut of her short, wispy, strawberry-blonde hair, the flowery dress that snuggled close to curves he couldn’t help noticing, the energetic wave of slender hands when she talked with Lucy, all suggested an impulsive pixie who liked rocking the boat. He didn’t like his boat rocked.

Buy Links

Amazon / B&N

About the Author

Susan is an award winning, multi-published traditional and indie author. Her debut novel, Oops…We’re Married?, was a Reader’s Choice nominee and Holt Medallion Finalist. She describes herself first and foremost as a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, dreamer, and novelist. An ardent student of human nature who loves ancient history and myth, she didn’t grow up planning to be a writer. That didn’t come until much later, after her first publication – a little known article for Listen Magazine titled, “Jessie’s Choice.”

Other things you should know: Susan is the oldest child of a military family. She’s traveled to many places over the years, but has never been to Ireland, Paris, or Crete, an omission she hopes to someday correct. Her favorite places in the world are New York City, Sedona (Arizona), Ouray (Colorado), and Bath (England). And she believes the best things in life come in unexpected packages. She writes whenever she can. In between she works as a Registered Nurse, reads, gardens, takes lots of photos, travels whenever the opportunity arises, and remodels her house. She LOVES dragons. Currently she’s working on the next novel in her Dragonkind Chronicles, and dreaming up a new contemporary romance.

You can connect with Susan on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Pinterest, and her website, SusanLute.com.

Giveaway

Susan will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B&N gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour. To enter, use the widget below — and don’t forget to follow the rest of the tour stops and comment. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning! All tour stops can be found here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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