Judith Post's Blog, page 118

Writing: emotional rhythms

I just finished reading bird by bird by Anne Lamott, a book about writing. A friend recommended it, and I’m glad she did. Every once in a while, I like to plunge into a writing book to remind myself of the many things I’ve learned and sometimes do on auto-pilot, but sometimes sort of forget. When I remember them again, I apply them more religiously. A good thing.

For me, bird by bird is less a book on the techniques of writing and more a book about living and breathing writing. Yes, she tells us what works for her and what doesn’t, but it’s not a “how to” book that lists how to plot, do character wheels, use active verbs, and choose POV wisely. Instead, Anne Lamott shares her passion for the written word, for sitting down and putting words on paper, for the days when everything you write sounds wonderful, and the days when everything sounds like crap. You can find her online at http://www.salon.com/writer/anne_lamott/ and get a taste of her voice, her style. Clearly, she’s a literary writer. Even her technique is character driven.

Everyone who knows me or my writing knows that I’m a plot-driven person. I started out writing mystery short stories, expanded to fantasy/dark fantasy stories, and finally dipped my toes into novels. And that was NOT a smooth transition. I couldn’t force my first effort into more than 20,000 words–and they were nothing to brag about. I couldn’t any more have a story grow organically from characters and their needs back then than I could close my eyes, wiggle my nose, and peek in the mirror and look like I Dream of Jeannie (which was my goal at one time)–a little hard when I’m 5’10” with brown eyes, but hey, hope springs eternal, right? Character-driven was beyond me back then. First of all, I lived way too much in my own head. I had no deep or visceral life experience to speak of, and I was pretty, damn private. I couldn’t talk about my OWN emotions, let alone dig into someone else’s. But the longer you live, the more life kicks you around, and after a while, you have plenty of ups and more downs than you want, and you realize everyone else does, too, and it HELPS to talk about them. These days, I’m less afraid of failure. Failure’s just an attempt I haven’t gotten right yet. Life makes you a better writer.

I’m still a plot-driven, goal-driven person. I think it’s in my wiring. But my characters, like me, no longer have to hide their flaws and strive for perfection. My flaws have shaped me as much as my virtues, so I have to give them some credit. And I’ve survived enough bumps to know I’m stronger than I realized. But no matter how thick-skinned and pragmatic I’ve grown, I still haven’t worked past the rhythms of my writing–the excitement of starting a new book or story, the feeling of desperation somewhere in the late middle, the relief when the thing’s finally finished. I hold my breath when I show it to my critique partners. I tell myself I did what I wanted to do with that story. A self-defense wall rears its ugly head when they tell me it’s less than perfect. Then I look at the pages again and they’re usually right. When I finish THAT rewrite, I feel like the book’s pretty good. But when it goes online and readers download it, the whole ritual starts again. And that’s when I realize I’m not as thick-skinned as I thought.

Anne Lamott captures the doubts and struggles of a writer extremely well, and she’s so honest about it, and so FUNNY, it was a joy empathizing with her. She nailed my writing journey, and that was as refreshing for me as reminders for my “how to” lists.

P.S. Michael Prete finished my book cover, and Sharon is going to start work on formatting Blood Lust next week. Remember, this is a fallen angel/vampire series, so teeth and blood. Sorry, Susan!

Writing–ready to go

My third Fallen Angels novel, BLOOD LUST, will be online soon. Michael Prete at http://vertex10.com/ is designing another cover for me, but I used this image to help me create Feral. Interesting villains make for interesting books, and I found Feral particularly intriguing. She was just devious and crazy enough to push a lot of Enoch’s buttons. In this book, Feral comes to Enoch’s home city–Three Rivers–to open a vampire nightclub, but she follows all of the rules “good” vampires abide by. Enoch, a fallen angel, respects rules, but discovers those rules leave plenty of holes for serious problems. Feral listens to classical music, and Enoch decides “She must fancy herself as cultured, as if listening to Mozart lifted her to a higher rank. That would be like sprinkling diamond dust across a cesspool. It didn’t change the disgusting mess underneath.” I enjoyed creating Feral.

In this book, I wanted to focus some attention on Voronika. Enoch has chosen a vampire as his mate. Voronika hates what she is. She sometimes comes off as cold and self-centered, but when her mortal friend, Maggie, tells her she’s pregnant, Voronika struggles to be happy for her. Vampires can’t procreate. She’ll never have a child, and she tries not to feel jealous.

My last goal, in this book, was to write an urban fantasy that didn’t involve one battle leading to the next. I like battles, but I wanted this book to have different conflicts and tension. I got mixed reviews from my critique partners on that, so I bumped the stakes higher and was happy with my characters and story line.

For my next urban fantasy–the third book in the Wolf’s Bane series–I’ve typed out 28 plot points, and the story calls for enough battles to make up for my cat-and-mouse games in BLOOD LUST.

I’m making this blog post shorter than most. My grandson’s staying with us over Thanksgiving holiday before he heads back to college, so I’ve been cooking and playing more than usual. I wish you a wonderful Thanksgiving. And happy writing!

P.S. I found a new blog post about plotting that I thought was especially good. Thought I’d share:

http://storyfix.com/story-structure-dummies

http://www.judithpostswritingmusings.com/

https://www.facebook.com/JudithPostsurbanfantasy

Writing: Questions to ask when starting a book

I finished my rewrites for the romance I was working on and sent them to my agent. Fingers crossed. Light candles for me and sing to the Muses. I hope they work. Now, I’m starting the plot points for my third novel in the Wolf’s Bane series. I have the hook and book’s big question. I’ve already done character wheels for all of the regulars from the series, but a new book needs some new characters, and I’m working on those. I meant to sit down today and write about how I plot, (since that’s what I’m up to), but I’ve already done that. Besides, before NaNoWriMo started at the beginning of November, I saw LOTS of blogs about how to plot, so that when you finish 50,000 words, you might have a novel, or at least, the first draft for one. So it’s been done. And all a writer has to do is choose which method works best for him or her or combine a few for good luck.

In case you missed them all, here are some links to get you started:

http://www.how-to-write-a-book-now.com/plot-outline.html

http://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/category/structuring-your-novel-2

http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/2014/04/24/everybody-arcs-how-to-use-emotional-growth-to-propel-the-story-and-capture-the-reader/

http://jimbutcher.livejournal.com/2647.html and http://jimbutcher.livejournal.com/2880.html

Anyway, when I began scribbling down my techniques, I decided most of you already know most of them. So I decided to try something different. This is by no means a thorough explanation of how to plot a book. It’s just something I use to get my head moving in the right direction, because in all honesty, if I can get the beginning of the book right with a big question that will drive the plot, I have a decent shot of ending up with something I can work with. And then if I get stuck and ask the right questions, I might keep the momentum going. So, here goes:

1. Hook. What comes out of the blue and pushes my main character out of his comfort zone? And how do I write it so that it snags the interest of a reader?

In Wolf’s Bane, my protagonist, Reece Rutherford gets a phone call from her little brother. When her mom’s second husband (Reece’s father died unexpectedly) drinks too much, he likes to smack Reece’s little sister. Her brother always calls for help, and Reece races to their brownstone to send Eugene to bed or knock him on his ass. She teaches martial arts, so she can–and Eugene knows it.

2. What’s the book’s big question–the problem my protagonist has to face and won’t solve until the end of the book?

When Reece reaches her mom’s condo, she sees a woman sitting on a porch step a few doors down. She’s talking to herself and upset. When Reece walks to check on her, she jumps to her feet and cries, “Stay away from me!” She runs, but a few minutes later, Reece hears a howl. There’s a full moon and Reece laughs at herself. There’s no such things as monsters. Of course, since this is urban fantasy, we know there are. And the rest of the book deals with Reece joining allies to fight rogue werewolves in Bay City.

3. Who and what does the protagonist care about? Introduce them in the set-up. Those are the things she’ll fight to protect. Why are they important to her? Does she have a family? Are they close or not? Why or why not? How do they interact?

4. Who steps up to help the protagonist with her battle? Why do they join in? What can a writer do to make readers care about these allies? What makes them special? Or someone the reader can relate to? How is their approach different than the protagonist’s?

5. Take time to know the book’s antagonists and villains. What do they believe in? What made them choose their course of actions? What makes them real–what strengths or flaws do they have?

In Wolf’s Bane, there’s a villain–who pulls the strings. And there are rogues who work with him. The girl rogue has been abused as a female werewolf too many times. She vows to be independent, to never join another pack, and if she has to be an enforcer and hurt a few people in the process, so be it.

6. Is there a love interest? What attracts him to the protagonist or the protagonist to him? (I’m using a female protag, because I’m giving examples from Wolf’s Bane). What’s going to keep them from getting together for a large part of the book?

7. What’s the first plan of action the protagonist takes to solve her problem? And when that doesn’t work, what will she try next?

8. What’s the book’s big, black moment near the end of the story? How does the book end?

If I’m lucky, by the time I answer all of these questions, ideas are flowing for the novel and I have at least two main plot twists to get me to the middle of the book. One more plot twist should get me three-fourths of the way through, and I can start plotting the wrap-ups of sub-plots and the last, big, dramatic scene. If I get stuck, I ask myself again–who does the protagonist care about? Who can I get in trouble? Can I add something the reader didn’t expect? And how do I keep the tension and emotional impact of the novel strong?

These questions won’t help you with the mechanics of plotting, but they might spark ideas. They help me. Good luck!

http://www.judithpostswritingmusings.com/

https://www.facebook.com/JudithPostsurbanfantasy

on twitter at @judypost

Writing: grateful sigh:)

I finally finished the rewrites that my agent asked for. One of my critique friends asked to see them before I send them to Lauren, so they’re not on their way yet, but they’re done. And that feels GOOD!

Things I learned about writing a romance:

Everything has to affect the budding relationship between “guy who met girl.” I tried to cheat. Yes, I admit it, and I thought I could get away with it. I didn’t feel comfortable hinging everything on the push-pull of the romance, so I added a mystery subplot that played into the hero’s business and let the heroine bail him out here and there. It didn’t work. As my agent and my writer friends who KNOW romance explained, the story has to be driven by the “I’m attracted to you, but….” struggles of romance. The relationship has to drive every part of the story. Adding the mystery was a misstep. A fixable misstep, but one I’d do better to avoid next time. Each genre has rules. You can bend them, but you’d better know what you’re doing if you intend to break them.

Characters can’t be stereotypes if they matter at all in the story. They have to have depth, or why care about them? And if you push the envelope and break the stereotype too much, the consequences need to ripple through the story. For instance, I tossed in a surprise about Ian’s fiancee’. I thought it added a nice out-of-the-ordinary punch. The surprise went over great, but I got nailed for not dealing with the consequences all the way through to their eventual outcome. So think cause and effect from beginning to end. Why did it happen? What brought it on? And how did affect everyone involved?

I wrote my story from single POV. The first romance novel I studied to get a feel for the genre did that, so I did, too. Then I read Catherine Bybee, and she alternated scenes between the heroine’s POV and the hero’s. That might have made things simpler for me. With the guy’s POV, readers can get closer to him and know his reasoning when he’s a jerk (even though in his mind, he’s not). It’s a tough call, but since I wrote this first novel in single POV, I’ll write the next one that way, too. If I ever start a new romance series, though, I might play around with his and her POVs. It punches up the tension and makes both characters more sympathetic. We don’t have to rely on the heroine guessing what her romantic interest is up to. He can tell us. POV is something to consider when you start a novel. Is single better than multiple? Which would work better?

Small details can make a big difference in a romance. When I write urban fantasy, the conflict is on a grand scale. Life and death weigh in the balance. In romance, emotions drive the story. A misunderstanding can derail an entire relationship. Working on the dance of “he said,” “she said” was good for me. It reminded me that it’s fun to let your characters tell lies. Usually, in urban fantasy, the good guys and the bad guys face off against each other. But in real life, people sidle out of responsibilities, they distort the truth, and they tilt events to their own advantage. And sometimes, they out and out lie. It was refreshing to work with motivations driven by emotions and needs instead of good versus bad. (I like that, too, though:) Anyway, the romance, for now, is done. Tomorrow, I start doing plot points for my third Wolf’s Bane novel. It’s back to gargoyles, witches, and werewolves again. I’m liking the balance–dealing with mortals and their emotions for one book (romances) and then switching to battles and monsters for the next. Pretty fun!

Happy writing!

https://www.facebook.com/JudithPostsurbanfantasy

http://www.judithpostswritingmusings.com/

@judypost on twitter

new short story on my webpage

Just wanted to let you know that I posted a new short story on my webpage. It’s darker than usual. I’m also adding a disclaimer. The villain’s views are not my own, but he’s not very stable, and hopefully, I’m a little more sane:) Anyway, it’s Wedge Durrow’s story, and he’s a werewolf, so you shouldn’t expect light and fluffy, right? If you’re interested, you can find it here: http://www.judithpostswritingmusings.com/.

Writing: cleansing my palate

I’ve enjoyed reading a variety of twitter and blog posts about writers gearing up for NaNoWriMo this month. There’s been advice for plotting ahead (which I always do), doing character sketches (ditto), and different methods for pacing yourself. A lot of writers have done their homework, and they’re ready to go. Since this is the second day of November, I’m guessing some of them already have one or two thousand words on the pages. If you’ve signed up to write a novel and intend to stamp The End on it by the last day of November, I wish you good luck. May the Muses smile on you. I, on the other hand, am gearing up to do rewrites of the romance my agent approved.

No small feat. Sometimes, I get lucky and I only need to change a few scenes or add a scene at the end of the book–a common occurrence for me. I tend to rush endings. A mistake. Readers, experts say, buy books because the opening paragraphs or pages hook them, but they buy a writer’s second book because the end of the book they read satisfies them, and they’re willing to give the writer another try. As usual, I need to add another scene at the end of the romance. More than that, though, I need to tweak or eliminate an entire subplot. If I eliminate it, I need something new to take its place. AND I need to beef up a minor character who plays a major part in the plot. I’m not discouraged. For my first romance, I think I got off pretty easy. I expected the whole thing to be a bust. But I’m going to have to spend some serious time to make the book work, because I want the thing to be as good as I can possibly make it. I ended up really enjoying everything about the book–my characters, the plot, and the actual writing itself. I even have ideas for two more spin-off romances.

The thing is, though, I just finished doing rewrites for one of the urban fantasy novels I was working on. And I’ve learned that my brain needs time to doodle–to play with short, obscure thoughts–between books. I used to ignore those inner rhythms when I was in a rush to get books done, but somewhere along the daily grind of pumping out words and scenes, my writing went flat. No matter how many active verbs I smacked into sentences, my characters yawned and said, “Give us a break, will you?” And now, I do. When I finish a book, I play with a few short stories before I start the next book. I’ve read that Stephen King used to do the same thing. I’m not comparing myself to him, but I understand the need. Short stories are a time for me to find something close to writer’s instant gratification because I can finish short-shorts in a day or two and “lunch hour reads” in a week or two. Short, by novel standards. Oops, forgot. Not if you’re racing through NaNoWriMo. Then I’d have a book finished in a month:) But short stories between novels works for me, regardless. They cleanse my palate before I settle in for another long haul.

Whatever you’re working on this month, happy writing!

http://www.judithpostswritingmusings.com/

Writing: things change

I’ve invited a few of my longtime writing friends over for lunch and an informal “novelcon” this week. We each bring pages to share, and we read and discuss them. We talk about what we’re working on and how the writing’s going. It’s low-key and casual. It’s a time to settle in and talk shop with old friends. A few times a year, we open it up to new people, but the temperatures are dipping, we’re gearing up for the holidays, and this feels like the right time to steal a moment to touch base, just the five of us.

When I was planning what I was going to make, my husband teased me. Each of us has some kind of a diet restriction these days. One of my friends keeps a Kosher kitchen now. She’s easy-going about it, but I don’t mix meat and milk and I never serve pork or shrimp. Another friend is gluten intolerant, so no wheat. I can’t eat milk or milk products. Ann can’t have acid, so no tomatoes. The only fruits she can eat are pears and blueberries. It makes menu planning interesting.

That’s not the only thing that’s changed for us over the years. We all thought that once our kids grew up, life would slow down. We’d have more time to write. It sounds good on paper, doesn’t it? But it hasn’t worked that way. Lately, I’ve had more time to write, but I’ve also gotten a lot more serious about it. And it feels like I can never get everything done in one day. I don’t work. I don’t have to leave the house, but my husband retired. We talk before I head back to my computer. We stop whatever we’re doing to eat lunch together. Some days, a kid stops in or calls. I’ve tried to add marketing to my daily agenda. I’m determined to read more. And I know how lucky I am to have all of these things to enjoy. So…I enjoy them:) And I work writing around them. My friends do the same. Two of them babysit for grandkids part of each week. One babysits full time and can’t get together with us anymore. Another’s husband loves to go on antique car, road trips. Another still works and can’t decide if she’ll retire.

I don’t know exactly what I expected when the last kid left and my friends and I all moved to the “next step” in life, but I didn’t get it right. I have a rocking chair, and it looks pretty, but I haven’t used it. Life’s filled up in new and different ways. How lucky is that! And that’s the great thing about Life. It just keeps surprising me. But I find time to squeeze writing in the mix. Hope you do too.

P.S. My agent liked the romance I sent her! She sent lots of notes, so I have plenty of rewrites, but they’re all do-able. That’s a relief.

a short story for you

Since my novella bundles are 99 cents right now, I thought I’d tease you with a short-short, featuring Death and Loralei. Hope you enjoy it:

BROTHERLY LOVE

Loralei spread sliced strawberries over the cut-up rhubarb in the pie crust, then added sugar, flour, and orange zest. Scythe was coming home this evening—her nickname for Death. He and Shade had been busy for weeks now, only returning home for short visits. When the world became a more violent place, they had more duties, so she wanted to make tonight special for him. The man loved pie.

She’d finished weaving the lattice top when someone knocked on the door. Visitors were rare. She and Scythe had picked this secluded property for a reason. They didn’t want company. That had changed when Shade and Chantel built a house next door, but they usually gave a quick knock and popped inside. They didn’t wait for Loralei to invite them past her threshold.

Loralei pushed the pie in the oven and set the timer. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she strode to see who’d braved the long, winding drive. She sighed with relief when she saw Lane, a detective they’d worked with before, waiting impatiently on the front porch.

“Hey, what brings you here?” She opened the door and smiled a welcome.

Lane scowled in return. His blond hair looked unwashed and stubble covered his chin. For a man who usually bristled with efficiency, he looked like he could hardly keep his eyes open. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t know who else to ask for help.”

She liked Lane. She thought he liked her back, even though he avoided her, if possible. Not many mortals felt comfortable around Death and his girlfriend. She tipped her head to look up at him. “Are you in trouble?”

“It’s these dreams. I keep having the same one over and over again. I can’t get enough sleep, and I don’t know what the dream means.”

Loralei motioned him into the great room with its massive, stone fireplace in the center. In winter, she and Scythe used it to heat their stone cottage. Power went out too often to rely on gas or electricity alone. Lane sank into an easy chair and sniffed the air. He glanced toward the kitchen at the back of the house. “It smells good in here.”

Ebony scratched at the back, patio door. The cat kept a protective eye on her. Before Loralei went to let him in, Tammy and Chris burst into the room, the cat on their heels. They’d spent the afternoon, playing with Shade and Chantel’s three kids, but curiosity made them check out who’d made a trip here. When they saw Lane, they turned away, disappointed. Lane tended to be all business. No stories of adventures of rampaging criminals to entertain them. Chris grabbed for an apple before they disappeared outdoors again. Ebony sprang onto Lane’s lap and made himself comfortable.

Tucking an errant strand of black hair behind her ear, Loralei turned to Lane. “Tell me about your dream.”

He absently stroked Ebony’s fur, his attention focused somewhere else. “It’s more of a nightmare really. It starts off with a father coming home from work. He walks through the front door of his house. He’s not concentrating, because he’s talking on his cell phone, and he trips over a book bag that a kid dropped on the floor and almost falls. He finishes his conversation, and his face goes completely still. You can’t read his expression at all. Then he walks into his office and calls his wife on his phone. Now mind you, she’s in the kitchen, but he doesn’t go to her. He calls, and in a very calm voice, he tells her that he wants to see her and both boys in his office.”

Loralei frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“My dream goes to the wife and boys. They’re frosting a cake together at the kitchen island. The wife goes white as a sheet when her husband calls. She tells the boys, and they all cling to each other.”

“Domestic violence.” Loralei’s voice sounded harsh. She hardly recognized it. “You see all kinds of stuff in your job. Are you working on an abuse case now?”

He shook his head. “The mom and boys go to the office, and the husband has his belt off. He swings at the wife, and the buckle cuts her cheek. When the younger boy screams for him to stop, he hits him with the belt over and over again. ‘It was your back pack.’ His voice is calm. ‘You know my rules.’ The older boy pleads that he’s the one who dropped it there, but the father punches him right in the face and knocks him against the wall. ‘Don’t lie for him.’ The dad’s voice is as cold as ice. Brittle. He turns back to the little boy, and the mother throws herself over him. He punches her and knocks her aside, too. And then the lashes get harder until the older boy picks up the fireplace poker and bashes him with it.”

Loralei shivered. Silence stretched between them. Why had Lane come to her? She could see the dead, had always been able to. Since she’d joined with Scythe, she could call a spirit back to earth with her crystal ball. Did Lane want to call the father’s spirit to him? Why?

Lane took a deep breath. He rubbed his hands over his face. “The younger boy has come to me night after night, asking me to help him. I don’t know who he is or what he needs.”

Ebony’s yellow gaze settled on her. The cat didn’t like it that Lane was upset. Neither did she. What did the fur-pot think she could do about it?

The buzzer sounded on the stove’s timer, and Loralei went to the kitchen to check on her pie. She was usually humble, but even she had to admit, it looked beautiful with a golden crust and a bubbling filling. She took it out of the oven to cool and returned to Lane.

“Do you think the younger boy’s dead?” she asked.

He nodded. “That never would have occurred to me until I met you, but he keeps coming, like he’s desperate. He’s older now, maybe late teens. It’s freaking me out.”

Loralei leaned forward in her chair to rest her elbows on her knees. “Why you? Did you have some connection with him? Live in the same neighborhood? Arrest his brother?”

Lane sighed. “Maybe it’s because I went through pretty much the same thing.”

Loralei stared. She hadn’t known. But then, why should she? She glanced at the kitchen clock. “Scythe will be home soon. I can use my crystal ball and try to call for the boy. If he’s really desperate, that will give him a chance to tell you what he needs.”

Lane ran a hand through his short hair. “Thank you. I know the conditions for calling a spirit. I’m willing to pay however many years the boy needs.”

Tears misted Loralei’s eyes, and she blinked them away. Usually, when a loved one asked her to connect them to someone they’d lost, they had to pay in years for however much the process cost her. Each time she dragged a spirit back to Earth, it aged her, and her clients renewed her again. This time, she shook her head. “I won’t have to drag this boy back. He wants an opening. I’m thinking he’ll rush to us.”

“I hope so. Either that or I’m going to have to call an exorcist to chase him away. He’s driving me nuts.”

She reached out and patted his knee. “Come on. You can help me get supper ready. That way, when we finish with the crystal ball, we can sit down to eat.”

Lane looked doubtful. “I don’t think I’ll have an appetite.” But he followed her into the kitchen. When Scythe stepped on the front porch as the Grim Reaper, then crossed the threshold as her dark-haired, handsome husband, he found them grating cabbage for coleslaw.

Scythe inhaled and smiled. “Do I smell pork?”

“I thought we’d have pulled-pork sandwiches, slaw, and pie,” she said.

“Works for me.” His dark gaze settled on Lane. “You never stop to chat. What’s going on?”

Lane explained about the boy and his dreams.

Scythe nodded. “Let’s try to contact him.”

Loralei got her crystal ball and carried it to the round table in the living room. Ebony jumped on her lap. Scythe and Lane sat across from them. Loralei had barely started the search with her mind when a young man’s face appeared before them.

“Can you help me?”

Loralie motioned with her hand toward Lane and Scythe. “We want to try. We don’t know what you need.”

The boy sighed. “I need to talk to my brother, but I can’t reach him. Ever since, well, ever since my dad died, Jason’s been doing drugs. He didn’t mean to kill Dad. He only wanted to make him stop, but Mom needs him now. He has to be strong for her.”

“How did you die?” Scythe asked.

“Dad’s beating messed up some of my organs. I always knew I wouldn’t be an old man, but I didn’t expect to die this soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Loralei said.

The boy grinned. “Are you kidding? Do you know what it’s like when you go Home? It’s awesome! Jason needs to know that. He didn’t fail me. He didn’t fail Mom. And it wasn’t his fault he killed Dad.”

Lane grimaced. “Everyone knows that but him. The courts didn’t prosecute. How do we reach him?”

“He’ll be in the alley behind the hamburger place downtown. Today’s going to be hard for him. If you hurry, I can wait for him.”

“I can do better than that. I can have him delivered.” Lane reached for his cell phone and called someone he worked with. When he finished, he looked at the boy. “He’ll be here in twenty minutes or so.”

Loralei started to ask him why today would be worse for his brother than any other day, but was interrupted when Chris and Tammy tumbled into the house. They looked at the boy and rushed toward him. “Did you come to live with us, too? How old are you?”

The boy blinked at Chris’s apparel. Chris had died during the horse and buggy era and dressed accordingly. Then he frowned at Tammy, ten years old and only recently deceased. “No, I came to see Lane. He’s helping me. He brought me here so that your parents could find my brother.”

“Is he a ghost too?” Tammy asked. She faded to her natural form, and the boy stared. “We only get to have bodies when we’re on this property, because Scythe and Loralei adopted us.”

The boy shook his head, surprised. “I don’t want to stay. I like Home. I just want my brother to be happy.”

“And you went to Lane?” Tammy sounded confused. “He’s not very good with kids.”

When Lane scowled, she shrugged. “Well, he isn’t.”

“He understands me, knows what it was like for us, and he’s a cop here, in my town.” The boy turned to Lane. “Will you help my brother?”

“I’ll try.”

The boy studied Lane, then gave a small nod. “You’ll do.”

Tires crunched in the driveway, and footsteps crossed to the door. Lane went to open it. He took Jason from his friend on the force. “Thank you.”

“You came through for me. Happy to help,” the man said.

When Lane closed the door behind them, Jason looked up, saw his brother, and his jaw fell. “Tommy?”

The boy nodded. He looked at the others. “Can we have some time alone?”

Loralei turned off the oven and stepped out the patio doors with the others. Late spring scented the air, so that it smelled like new grass and fresh earth. Daffodils bobbed in her flower beds, along with hyacinths and tulips. Tender green furls uncurled on tree branches. A robin flew to the flowering crabapple tree and disappeared in the heavy blossoms. Chris and Tammy ran to the fenced-in area at the back of the property to visit their horse. Ebony stretched out on the patio, ignoring them.

Scythe wrapped an arm around Loralei’s waist. “I’ve missed this.”

She laughed. “The house is never quiet since we took in the kids.”

“No, but it’s filled with happy noises. That’s good.”

Jason walked to the glass doors and waved them back inside. Tommy shimmered, his energy beginning to break up.

“I have to get back,” Tommy said.

Loralei hurried to ask. “Why today? What’s different about it?”

Tommy glanced at Lane. “He knows. He saw the cake in the vision.” And a quick image of their mother and the two boys materialized. Written in blue frosting across the top were the words Happy Birthday, Dad.

A tremor shook Jason’s body. “I was so excited about helping Mom decorate Dad’s cake, I tossed down both of our book bags to hurry to the kitchen.”

“My shoulders hurt from the last time Dad hit me.” Tommy looked at Lane. “Keep an eye on him, okay?”

At Lane’s nod, Tommy faded from view. Jason sagged onto a kitchen chair. He glanced at Lane. “I’ve been messed-up a long time, but I’d like to change. I’d like to help Mom now that Tommy’s gone.”

“Do you have some place to stay?” Lane asked.

“I don’t want to stay at Mom’s. It would be too hard right now.”

“Stay with me.”

Jason stared. “I’m an addict, man.”

“I’m a cop. We can figure something out.”

With a nod, Jason followed Lane to his squad car. Loralei and Scythe watched them drive away. Scythe pulled Loralei closer. “You know, that just might work for both of them.”

She raised a black eyebrow. “You’re going to pull some strings for them, aren’t you?”

“My job comes with a few perks. If I can help that kid, I’m going to.”

“More willpower? What can you do?”

Scythe gave her a look. “I am the angel of death. Some of my friends are angels, too. Guardian angels, and they know their stuff.”

She hadn’t thought of that. She pulled him into the house. “Well, the kids don’t like to think of you that way. To them, you’re Scythe Black, their rescuer. And they’re hungry. It’s past supper time. Let’s eat.”

He smiled. “The joys of home—here—on Earth. And I smelled pie.”

She shook her head. Men. Supernatural or not, some of their needs were pretty basic.

(Loralei and Scythe are featured in my novella bundle: The Death and Loralei Collection. http://www.amazon.com/Death-Loralei-Collection-Destiny-Hallows-ebook/dp/B00DUX407I/ref=la_B007P48F5G_1_12?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1413681716&sr=1-12 .)

Writing: Reviews

When I first put books online, I was just so happy that I could finally SHARE my writing that I didn’t think too far past that. Dumb mistake. There are thousands, maybe millions, maybe kazillions (all right, I’m getting carried away) of other writers online. How could a reader possibly find MY books out of all of the others? I did everything that my agent told me to do–start a blog, join twitter, make a webpage and a facebook author page. Great, but how do readers find THOSE?

I’ve been playing catch-up ever since. There are people with thousands of blog followers, even more facebook followers, and tons of twitter friends. Recently, I was invited to join a state-wide author facebook page. I learned right away that I was outclassed. These authors were SERIOUS about marketing. Most belonged to RWA. They attended author signings anywhere they could drive to. They carried bookmarks, postcards, and swag for giveaways and contests. They invited me to participate in a facebook “party,” which I did. And I learned a lot. These women knew how to promote their books–and I was grateful to them for including me.

I belong to a writers’ group, but we concentrate more on writing. We aren’t so wonderful at marketing. For that, I recommend joining a romance writers’ group. If they’re like the ones in Indiana, you’ll learn a LOT–and the writers are friendly and generous. What helps one, helps everyone. They share. That’s something I’ve learned about writers. They WANT to share what works for them.

One of the things that helps a writer is reviews. Most readers dismiss reviews if a writer only has five or six of them. They figure the writer coerced friends and family into writing them, and they don’t trust the five stars. I’ve read that if a writer has all five-star reviews, it makes readers suspicious. No book, supposedly, is perfect. A four star review here and there makes a writer more credible. Then there are the “trolls” who leave a one-star rating and a scathing comment because you’ve simply irritated them. I was so happy with a five-star review I got, I put it on twitter, and I immediately got a one-star review with no comments, just a rating, just to deflate my bubble. Sad. But true. Sort of pathetic, if you think about it.

To advertise on most promotional sites, you have to have a certain amount of reviews. It varies from site to site. I have no idea what it takes to get on BookBub these days (it’s hard), but some sites demand 10 reviews, some 15, etc. That sounds like a small number in the big scheme of things, but believe me when I tell you that if you’re a new writer and you’re not good at promoting yourself, it’s not so easy to achieve. I think I’m pretty generous to my writers’ club, but can I get most of the members to review my books? No. Can I get friends to read and review them? No. Family? Forget it. If you write a book and you need to depend on friends and family, my opinion is that you’re screwed. And that’s all right! Don’t take it personally. First off, people like what they like. I haven’t met an abundance of people who are into urban fantasy. And even if they read my stuff, they don’t feel comfortable rating it or writing about it. So what I’m trying to tell you is, when you finish your book and you put it online, have a marketing plan in mind–even if it’s a modest one. I’ve listed some bloggers who specialize in marketing before. I think Lindsay Buroker’s one of the best: http://www.lindsayburoker.com/ Her thoughts on reviews: http://www.lindsayburoker.com/book-marketing/analyzing-a-mid-list-series/ So is Rachel Thompson on twitter: http://badredheadmedia.com/category/blogging/ Read them and listen to their advice, or cross your fingers and hope you get lucky. And if it doesn’t matter to you, you want to write what you write and you’re happy with that, so be it. We all write for different reasons. So whatever you’re doing, enjoy it!

(I want to plug the Fussy Librarian. He won’t review a book unless it has 10 good reviews, but bless the man, he saved one of my books until I got my 10th review, and Blood Battles will be on his pages tomorrow: http://www.thefussylibrarian.com/).

I also want to add that everything I have online–books, bundles, and novellas–will be 99 cents from Monday to Sunday, and then on the 27th, all of my prices will go up. (I want to experiment a little. Keep your fingers crossed for me.) http://www.amazon.com/Judith-Post/e/B007P48F5G/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1413756902&sr=1-1

And P.P.S My friend Sia Marion posted a short story on her blog that’s perfect for Halloween spooky fun:

http://siamarion.weebly.com/blog

Just added a free short story to my webpage

Just wanted to let you know that I added a free short story to my webpage. It’s a quick read. If you’re up to no good, don’t meet a fallen angel in a dark alley.

http://www.judithpostswritingmusings.com/free-short-story-mortal-monsters-enoch-from-fallen-angels.html