Florence Witkop's Blog, page 64

My post the other day that got cut off m

My post the other day that got cut off mid-sentence made me think about writing tight. There’s an article in my book Write Fiction Like a Pro (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ERS0L20 if you are interested) about it in which I say it’s a good thing. Which it is. Writers who go on an on and on about details of a story that no on cares about don’t sell many books.

But there’s another way to look at the whole thing. Books are by their nature longer than short stories and, therefore, must contain more details. The thing I’ve learned is that some readers like a lot of details and others don’t and good luck at figuring out who is who and what’s the best way to proceed in a particular story. Yep, good luck all you writers out there, including myself.

I learned something yesterday. Facebook

I learned something yesterday. Facebook has a word limit. I learned this little fact by writing a post that evidently went over that limit, so it got cut in the middle of a sentence. If anyone wants to read the rest of the post, it can be found in its entirety on my blog. Sorry about that, I’ll try to remember after this, which is saying a lot for a writer. Anyway, here’s a link for those of you who want to read the rest of the post. http://FlorenceWitkop.com

At our suggestion, our grandson Robert l

At our suggestion, our grandson Robert lives with us to lower expenses while starting a business. So his dog, Bailey, lives here too, and when Robert is gone, like last night, she’s ours.

As I sat on the couch last evening, she jumped up beside me, stuck her face in mine to make sure we had eye-to-eye contact and started barking. And howling. And whimpering. She had something to say and didn’t care that I don’t understand Dog.

She’d already done her business so what was her problem? As I listened to her talk, I realized that, as an unusually well-behaved dog, she’d been quiet and considerate for over a month while all the humans in the house were either ill or incapacitated. Maybe she needed to run.

I put our coats on, Bailey’s on her and mine on me. Than I grabbed a ball and stood in the doorway and threw it down the driveway, the only part of our property not two feet deep in snow and into the inky black of the night where it was immediately lost in the few inches of new snow.

Bailey ran into the night and found it and I waited for her to lose it in the snow, which would be normal for her, or to bring it back so I could throw it again.

She did neither. With that ball in her mouth she charged up and down the driveway, passing me in the doorway with the speed of a jet plane. Back and forth, over and over again, up and down the driveway.

As I watched, I was reminded of myself and other writers I know who often are amazed when we read reviews of our works and, even though they may be wonderfully positive, often they describe stories that we’d not recognize as the ones we wrote. Because we don’t always read a story the way the writer wrote it. I’m not sure what Bailey was trying to say but her barks drew a response from me. Maybe not the right one, but what I did worked for her.

Bailey ran and ran and ran until, knowing that her paws are easily torn in the cold, I called her back. We came back inside where she carefully added the ball to the line of boots in the hallway where it would be available for the next time. Then I returned to the couch.

Bailey jumped up beside me and, again making sure she had my complete attention, she barked again. Sharply, loudly, for a few times. Then she lay down beside me, put her head on my lap, and went to sleep.

Though the details might have been muddled because, like I said before, I don’t understand Dog all t hat well, communication took place. As a writer, I can only hope that the same thing happens when someone reads what I write.

Everyone who reads this blog knows that

Everyone who reads this blog knows that I tend to talk about two things. Writing and the weather. Writing because I’m a writer. The weather because… well because where I live the weather is important.

Minnesota weather is not only constantly changing, it’s also hard to predict. Often Minnesota forecasters present several possible future weather scenarios because there are so many variables that it’s difficult to know for sure what will happen. Add to that the fact that for many years we owned a resort, the success of which was strongly dependent on the weather and you can see why the weather is almost as important to my daily life as writing is.

Writing can be is insidious. Even on days when the weather is wonderful and draws me outside to feel the world slide over me I just might stay inside at my laptop to make sure the spirit in Spirit Legend sings the right song. Or that Chloe in Earth Legend communicates competently with the plants on the space ship. I might do those things instead of going outside.

But sometimes I do actually shut the laptop and go outside. Occasionally I leave the comfort of the house to seek out a world that is a major source of inspiration to me. I don’t know why I need the outside world, I just know that often a walk in the wilderness, or along the road, or through the field behind our house sends my imagination into overdrive.

It happens even in weather like we are having this winter. Awful weather. Nasty cold. If I step outside I must dress against brutal winds and walk on crusted snow that’s deep enough in places that if I break through, I find myself up to my hips in the white stuff.

But that’s okay because eventually all that outside world finds its way into my stories and novels.

Winter is one-third over. I’m thinking

Winter is one-third over. I’m thinking of panicking because I’m not where I planned to be at this point. I can blame my husband’s surgery partly. But only partly. I know that if I want to catch up to where I should be now I’d better get busy and get some real writing done. Get Earth Legend finished and on the market. And it’s dancing in my head just waiting be be put down on paper. So I’d best ignore all that snow outside and get going.

We’re putting together our second jigsa

We’re putting together our second jigsaw puzzle this winter. As I pore over the places still waiting to be filled in by all those pieces scattered around the puzzle, I think how much this process is like writing a story.

First you put the edge together. You lay out the outlines of the story. Second you choose those pieces that will separate the puzzle into smaller, manageable segments to be worked on later. You divide the story into major parts. Third, you start the slow process of filling in those segments. You begin writing scenes. Fourth, you find the pieces to make the puzzle whole, filling in the places that got missed earlier. You splice the scenes together and weave them into a story, creating new ones when needed, eliminating ones that serve no purpose. Fifth, you stand back and look in awe at the picture you have created. You put the story aside until it is cold in your mind, then you read it from start to finish to see if it has the feel you wanted.

They both are done best with no hurry and they both are accomplishments of note.

I did something a few minutes ago that I

I did something a few minutes ago that I do once in a great while. I went to Amazon and looked up the books and stories I have there. Just in case something is wrong or different or changed since the last time I looked. And this time something was different in a good way. There were several new reviews of my work and they were all positive. Some very positive.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, whoever you are. Good reviews not only help other people decide whether to download my books and stories, they also tell me that I’m doing something right. And, though selling books is good, knowing they are worth reading is priceless.

The explosion of self-published books ou

The explosion of self-published books out there has led to an explosion of another kind. Web sites promising to publicize those books. Because without publicity, books don’t reach many readers. I’m currently checking out a number of such sites to try to figure out which may be the best places to publicize the particular kind of books that I write. It’s slow going, checking out all these places, but it’s kind of enjoyable because, in the process of looking for publicity for my own books, I’m learning a lot about the business end of the book business.

Some specialize in electronic books, some in print books, and some seem equally comfortable with both.

So which is better, a place that just handles the kind of books I write or the kind that handles every kind imaginable? Should I go for specialized places that target my readers? If so, who exactly are my readers? I find I must face the fact that I don’t truly know and that admission forces me to acknowledge the fact that I have some heavy-duty work ahead of me before I decide where to put my limited marketing budget.

The work of a writer is never done.

Wanted Sharpshooter

As manager of a high-end upscale horse training facility in northern Minnesota, Maggie Squires does everything herself, thank you very much, along with Carlos, a bona fide horse whisperer, until a rogue puma threatens the horses and she must go against her gut and allow former Army Ranger sharpshooter Max Abrams, who is helping out while Carlos’ broken leg heals, to take charge of the hunt for the puma, the facility, and possibly Maggie herself.

Click here to buy from Amazon

Click here to buy from Smashwords

We saw snowbirds in the field behind our

We saw snowbirds in the field behind our house this morning. They are a warning of cold weather to come. They normally live in the arctic where they eat microscopic things that live in the snow. Mites, perhaps, or lice. Don’t know what for sure, just that they actually need snow and that means they need cold weather. They come south when the wind comes to us straight from the arctic.

So it’ll be cold today. We’ll go for a drive somewhere to make sure the SUV battery is full. Probably stop for lunch if we can find a place that’s not already full with other people doing the same thing. Town will be busy today, the opposite of what you’d expect when it’s truly cold. I believe the temps are supposed to be in the minus thirty degree range.

I suppose people in northern Canada and Alaska laugh at us because we think this is cold. But I suspect they have extra batteries in their vehicles and when the temps drop to whatever they consider truly cold that they just look out the window and put another log on the fire.

As for me, when we return from town, I’m going to hit the computer. And perhaps pull the curtains so I won’t see those harbingers of cold weather. Or maybe I won’t because they are pretty. They appear to be the size of wrens, though that could be because I’m not close enough to see their true size. They appear gray against the white snow but when they fly, they seem to be snow white. Lovely, small birds who thrive in the cold.