Carrie Elks's Blog, page 12
November 3, 2015
What do you Google? #LoveChatWrite Blog Hop – November 3 2015
This week we are answering the question: What did you Google?
The internet is an invaluable research tool for writers, but sometimes we google some searches that would raise more than a few eyebrows if seen out of context. We’ve all heard the tales of the thriller writer whose Google history has led to a visit from law enforcement, and the erotica writer whose searches have raised more than a few eyebrows. I bet if anybody (including non-writers) looked at their history they’d see a huge range of eclectic sites that are a mixture of the mundane and the embarrassing.
Nowadays it’s not only interesting facts that we Google, but anything and everything. I’d lay my hat on the fact that anybody going on a first date has almost certainly googled the other person before they meet them, and probably knows far more about them than is their date would want them to!
So what’s the last thing I Googled? Well I’m sad to say I can’t think of a single thing I’ve searched for that would either alarm the police, or my husband. So instead, let’s have a bit of fun.
What comes up if I Google “why is”…
Um, I have no answer to that one. And I don’t think I want to see what Google has to say on this!
What comes up if I Google “can i m”…
Great Advert for the UK there. By the way the answer is no!
Finally, what comes up if I Google “do q”…
So there you have it. Google has an answer for everything, and it pretty much looks as though everything has been searched for. If you ever find yourself wanting to marry your cousin, but your poop turns green, perhaps a duck can help you.
Now we’ve sorted that out, let’s hop over to Leslie Hachtel’s blog and find out her Google secrets.
October 13, 2015
What’s Your Secret? #LoveChatWrite Blog Hop -13th October 2015
This week it’s Sarah Hegger’s chance to ask us a question: What’s your secret passion? I have a thing for shoes and B-grade fantasy movies, what are some of your guilty pleasures?
Photo Credit: Depositphotos
Okay, so I thought long and hard about this one. Maybe I should come clean that I am a gym bunny, constantly working out my iron-hard abs. Or that I’m a secret artist, creating installations that people pay millions for. But anybody who knows me (and that means most of you) would laugh loudly, poke me in my squashy stomach and remind me that I can’t even colour inside the lines.
So yeah, I won’t bother with those then!
Instead I’m going to come clean about an honest-to-god secret that I try to hide from everybody. A skeleton in the cupboard that I’ve tried to keep there for the past nine years. It won’t be pretty, and it won’t be pleasant, but maybe it’s my chance to get it out in the open.
Deep breath, rolling drums…
I’m a Real Housewives addict.
Wow, that was hard! It’s also the truth. I’ve been a fan since the first series of the Real Housewives of Orange County (or RHOC for those of us in the know) back in 2006. From the very first episode I was hooked, my mouth agape by the antics of Kimberley, Jeanna, Laurie, Vicki and Jo. Not to mention the ever-so-aptly named Slade Smiley. If any of you recognise the names above, you need as much help as I do.
2 years after RHOC first aired (see, you know what I’m talking about – it’s only a few more steps until you’re hooked, too), my addiction was fanned by the first series of the Real Housewives of New York (RHONY – see what they did there?) It was like the Orange County series but without the sun, plus a whole lot more crazy. With an ex-model turned French duchess, a cosmopolitan-sipping entrepreneur, and the amazing, social climbing couple of Alex and Simon, RHONY was like a little piece of heaven for a people watcher like me.
I think that’s why I like the episodes so much. They’re made up of a mixture of real-life action and commentary, and each one is like being at a party, watching the guests mix together and then talk about each other behind each others’ backs. It’s intensely fascinating, and a gift for those who want to find out what makes people tick.
Since 2010, more franchises have been added. Now Atlanta, Washington DC, New Jersey, Beverley Hills and so many more have been added. They’ve even spread abroad, including Vancouver, Melbourne and Cheshire in the UK. But it’s the earlier ones (the originals) that still hold my heart. I’ve grown up with these guys. They’re like friends you love to hate, yet compulsively stalk on Facebook to see what they’re up to now.
In short, they’re a guilty pleasure. And I’m (almost) not afraid to admit it.
Now I’ve got that off my chest, let’s hop over to Dani Jace’s blog and read her secret passion.
October 8, 2015
The Recipe Box
Come and join RWW author Susan Scott Shelley to find out about her family recipe box, plus an amazing recipe for ice cubes :) Source: The Recipe Box
October 6, 2015
What Would You Do? – Romance Weekly #LoveChatWrite Blog Hop – October 6th 2015
Welcome to this week’s Romance Writer’s Weekly Blog Hop. If you’ve arrived from Tracey Gee’s blog, hi, and thanks for clicking!
This week author Kristi Rose has asked us to answer four simple questions. Easy, right? Well let’s see how I get on!
Describe your life in 20 words or less
A crazy book-filled world full of imaginary people and my very real family. I’m blessed!
If your life was like Seinfeld, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Golden girls. What character would you be?
I’d be Spike from Buffy. I can already do the accent, and I’d love to be bad-ass yet full of humour. I always think playing the villains would be so much more fun than being the good guys, especially in a series like Buffy written by the amazing Joss Whedon.In fact, can I be him now?
Who would win a fight between Chuck Norris and MacGyver?
MacGyver every time. Chuck Norris wouldn’t even know he was there because Mac would have made a secret bomb out of toilet paper and kool aid. Never go up against the guy who can find use for a cardboard tube.
Would you rather be bald or have a hug mullet for the rest of your life?
I had to google what a hug mullet was. I’m still not sure if it’s different to a normal mullet. Business at the front, party at the back, as they say. Anyway, I think I’d go for bald. In a very cute, Sinead O’Connor kind of way. Think of the extra time I could spend in bed because I don’t have to wash and dry my hair. Now that’s appealing!I had a lot of fun with those questions – thanks Kristi for the grins.
Now let’s hop over to Brenda Magriet’s blog and read her answers!
September 29, 2015
Fanfiction Rules – Romance Weekly #LoveChatWrite Blog Hop – 29th September 2015
This week Jo has set us the following task –
FanFiction is getting a lot of attention these days. Certain books have opened up the “pull to publish” flood gates, as it were – whether people like it or not. What fandom do you have a thing for? I want the title and opening scene (short or long) that you would give to a FanFiction you might write, if you were so inclined to, that is. :D
Definition of FAN FICTION : stories involving popular fictional characters that are written by fans and often posted on the Internet —called also fanfic, \-ˈfik\
It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of fan fiction. The opportunity to change an ending, to continue a story, to make your favourite hero do exactly what you were rooting for him to do? Who wouldn’t want to do that. There’s nothing worse than falling in love with a world and characters only to have them snatched away from you when a series ends. Even harder is waiting for that next book–what on earth do you do for a year while your favourite writer is squirrelling away in their den, and you’re twiddling your thumbs waiting for their next release.
In 2012 I discovered Twilight Fanfiction. I was late to the party (some of my favourite fanfics were written in 2009 / 10) but nontheless I threw myself into reading the stories. One of the most interesting things about Twilight Fanfiction is that it has moved away from the original source, using Edward Cullen and Bella Swan as mere archetypes for all-human fan fiction, in fact the majority of stories I have read don’t have any vampires at all. What they do have is an overarching love story, with plenty of angst, humour and bathos. They also laid the way for the (then) up and coming genre of New Adult Romance, as well as creating a sensation for E.L. James with the release of her story, Masters of the Universe, renamed as Fifty Shades of Grey.
By the end of 2012 I wasn’t content with simply reading fics. So I picked up my keyboard and began to write my own story. That reignited my love of writing (that I’d put aside for 10 years when bringing up my family) and opened me up to a new world of friends, readers, and authors. It’s through fan fiction that I found my muse, and through fan fiction that I found the support to become a published writer. I owe a lot to that 107 year old vampire and his girlfriend, and am more grateful than I can say.
Some of my fan fiction is still available to read. I published under the name chocaholic123. Some of it is terrible, some of it is good, but through all of it I learned a hell of a lot about the process of crafting a story, of responding to readers, and of creating characters that shine through despite their hardships.
One of the reasons I love writing fan fiction is that I can experiment, push the boundaries, and do things I wouldn’t necessarily do with a story I intend to publish. That’s how the story below grew. It’s half-written (and has been for some time) and is a all-human fan fiction based on Edward Cullen and Bella Swan.
I NEED YOU NOW
CHAPTER 1
01:15 Again. My eyes flicker. Take in the time. I throw a hand over my face to block out the light. It doesn’t work.
03:19 I turn in the bed, the cotton blanket twisting around my restless legs, and reach out for warmth that isn’t there. You haven’t been there for a long time. And in the daytime I can process that thought, ignore it, pretend it doesn’t taste of stale regret. But now it’s the only thing on my mind.
04:20 Do you remember the way we’d talk into the early hours? Your fingers pressing patterns into my hips. Insistent swirls that marked me as yours long before I let my heart recognise the fact. Inch by inch, you took me until my flesh seemed to develop it’s own memory. One that knew nothing except your lips, your hands, the way your fingertips felt. It heard promises where there were none. Made assumptions about a future that was never ours. It’s so easy to lie to yourself when the one you love is helping you along, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
05:31 I reach out for a glass that’s already drained. My mouth is dry, breathing in air that seems to catch in my throat. The dying moon lends an eerie quality to the light in here, mixing with the green of the clock, casting shadows that seem to take on a life of their own. But I’m not afraid. When you’ve had the worst happen, everything else pales in it’s wake.
I laugh in the face of night time fears. The dark can hold nothing worse than the bright sunlight of your goodbye. The cool of the night is a balm for the memory. The dust kicked up by spinning wheels, clouds lingering long after you’d disappeared over the horizon. I cried that day. Angry tears that burned my skin. My eyes red, my chest hitched. And that night I promised myself I wouldn’t cry over you again.
What’s another broken promise between lovers?
06:07 Maggie always wakes with the dawn. I’ve tried blackout blinds, heavy curtains. Even changed the clock that she can barely read. Yet still she shuffles into my room, carrying Posy in one hand, the other curled into a fist that rubs at her half-sleepy eyes. Her face is adorable and rumpled, criss crossed with lines from sleeping on a wrinkled pillow. She clambers into bed, pressing her warm cheek against mine. Posy lies between us, her skin threadbare from too much love. She was mine once. Do you remember when you found her in my bed, and laughed at the remnant of my childhood? It wasn’t a mocking laugh. Back then your chuckles only held desire. Need. Love.
I miss those times.
“Is it a school day?” Maggie mumbles around her thumb. We tried everything to stop her doing that, remember? Pacifiers, tiny white gloves. You even dipped her thumb in vinegar. But she just cried until we washed it clean. She needs that thumb more than anything. Can’t live without the taste of it in her mouth.
I know the feeling.
“It is, sweet pea,” I whisper. “But it’s two hours until the bus is due. Snuggle time.” I wince as I say the word. You were the one who coined that phrase. Back when we would do anything to claw another moment’s rest. Your voice would be thick with sleep as you let her clamber all over you, but I could still hear the humor there. The love. Your patience was always astounding, until it dried up like an over used well. But that was my fault. I know that. I was always the stubborn one. The realist. Once upon a time you loved that about me. Until it became the thing that tore us apart.
07:33 “Can you pass me the spatula?” Maggie always helps with breakfast. She sits on the side and passes me things while I sing out orders. She’s like a nurse assisting a delicate operation. It’s a routine born out of need. After you left she became clingy. Wouldn’t let me out of her sight. So I let her follow, trying to reassure her I’d always be there. That I wouldn’t desert her like everybody else had. She’s lost so many people in the last few years. We both have. But it cuts through me every time she cries when I run outside to throw out the trash. So now I take her, too. I like having her with me anyhow. We ground each other.
She’s all I have left.
8:07 We pass the mailbox on our way to the bus stop. Maggie pulls the door down, a grin splitting her face as she sees the card inside. You send her one from each city, just like you promised. And though she can’t read the words very well, the pretty photos make her eyes light up like it’s Christmas morning. She passes it to me, and I glance at the caption. Gaitlinburg, TN. I guess you’ve found a gig there. I try not to think of the way your fingers would curl around the guitar. How your sweet voice would make my heart ache.
I fail.
“What’s it say, what’s it say?”
I take a deep breath. This is always the hardest part. The reason why I’ve been trying so hard to teach her to read. One day I won’t have to be your go between, to read about the way you’ve moved on. One day you won’t break my heart with every word that you write.
“It says, Dear Cuteness…”
My voice cracks as I say your simple lines. Tell her of your bus journey, of the bar you’re singing in. Tell her that you miss her every day. Her bottom lip wobbles when I say your name. My tongue lingers on it long after my voice has stopped. They say it gets better with time. That life goes on whether you want it to or not. But your final words are like a knife to my soul. A reminder of everything we lost.
When I told you to leave I never thought you would. But I couldn’t take it back, no matter how much I wanted to. I watched you throw your clothes in a battered bag, your actions angry and hurt. I watched you hold Maggie with tears in your eyes.
You always end the card the same way. Simple. Effective. You break me everytime, just like I broke you. They cut right through my black heart. I think you know that, too.
Love, Edward.
Two words that sum up my life
They used to mean everything.
They still do.
THE END… for now!!
Now let’s hop over to Tracy Gee’s blog and read her thoughts on fan fiction. It’s her birthday so let’s make sure to wish her a fabulous day!
September 24, 2015
Thoughts for Thursday: Sex, Tweets and Video Trailers
This week I’m reblogging the fabulous Kim Handysides’ Thoughts for Thursday. The post is awesome!
Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:
Sex, Tweets and Video Trailers
This week’s Thoughts for Thursday come from RWW Author Kim Handysides
Who doesn’t love stories? Reading, watching, hearing, telling them. But writing them is hard. Ergo the oft-quoted Red Smith adage, “Writing is easy, just open a vein and bleed.”
I have done my share of this soul and emotional cutting over the years. But my biggest self-inflicted injuries come from the struggle between writing for love and writing for money. Or doing anything for money. Which is why here I sit holding onto an almost (second place) award winning story ready to go to a publisher and yet not sending it out. I know, from all my wonderful and wonderfully talented author friends that the struggle only really starts once you’ve signed with a publisher. You are then inundated with jabs to the kidneys and throat from your editor, your marketing manager…
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September 13, 2015
A Day in the Life of Carrie Elks
An oldie but a goodie. This RWW guest blog from October 2014 made me happy!
Source: A Day in the Life of Carrie Elks
September 8, 2015
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner – Romance Weekly #LoveChatWrite Blog Hop – 8th September 2015
This week Susan Scott Shelley asks – Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? Given the choice of any authors in the world (living or deceased), who would you want as a guest?
This question isn’t as easy to answer as I first thought. My initial problem is there are so many authors I’d love to meet (including all of those who are part of the wonderful Romance Writers’ Weekly group) that it would end up being one hell of a feast!
How to narrow it down? Especially when I’d love to see Dorothy Parker sharing some bread with Jane Austen, while Alice Walker pours the wine. The image alone makes me want to smile…
But if I can’t have everybody, and I have to stick to one person, I guess I’ll go for somebody I think I’d get on well with. Maybe someone I could fan girl, while still finding some things we have in common. While I’m at it, why not shoot for the stars? So let me introduce you to my dinner guest, Mrs Joanna K Rowling.
I first discovered the Harry Potter books when my daughter was a baby. His adventures got me through some dark times, and were the only company I had on those late night feeds. Her writing drew me in from the start, as well as the world she managed to build, and I have to admit there were some times when I felt more at home at Hogwarts than I did in my own world!
It isn’t simply her writing that draws me to her, however. She’s also a true philanthropist who has been through some hard times herself. She wrote the first Harry Potter book whilst being supported by the State, and in spite of her riches has never forgotten where she came from. Like many of us, she has suffered from depression, and some of her most memorable words are those of support to fellow sufferers.
Her story is an inspiring one. Like me, she was born in a small village near Bristol and also like me, her father was an engineer. She suffered a lot in early adulthood, but her rise to fame was meteoric. If we were sharing a bottle of wine I’d like to ask her whether she’d do it all again, give up her privacy for the pride of her achievement. And whether she had any advice for an aspiring author like me.
In the meantime I shall be eating dinner with my lovely family instead, and pondering on more of her wise words like these ones…
So what do you think? What famous author would you like to share a meal with?
Let’s hop over to Leslie Hachtel’s blog and see who’s coming for dinner at her place.
September 1, 2015
Favourite Quotes – Romance Weekly #LoveChatWrite Blog Hop -1st September 2015
This week Jeanne McDonald asks – What is one of your favorite quotes from your book(s). Explain the reason why it’s your favorite and its significance to the story and characters
This week I decided to go old school, and talk about one of my favourite books, Pride and Prejudice. I’m not alone in my love of this book, although back when I was a fifteen-year-old student I was the only one in my class who actually enjoyed reading it for English. Why did I love it so much? Let’s take a look at my quote and I’ll tell you…
This quote says everything about the first part of the book. Although they are words of love, it’s a ‘gritted teeth’ admission rather than a passionate declaration. From the start Mr Darcy has looked down upon the Bennett family, and Elizabeth Bennett has felt disdain for his prideful ways. Then when Elizabeth is staying with her cousin, Mr Collins, and Darcy is visiting his aunt at Rosings, they come into contact with each other. Mr Darcy tells her how he loves her in spite of her background, and pretty much against all his better judgement. Exactly what a girl wants to hear! Way to go, Darcy.
Of course Elizabeth declines his favour, and tells him to go and take a running jump. In the BBC adaptation he does exactly that. If you’ve not seen it before, I can highly recommend the ‘lake’ scene (insert gratuitous clip here, because you can never get enough Darcy!!)
The thing I love about Pride and Prejudice (apart from Mr Darcy, of course) is the character development. Elizabeth and Darcy start out hating each other – she dislikes his pride, and he dislikes her family. But as the two get to know each other better, something deeper grows between them. Though Mr Darcy is the first to realise that this connection might be love, Elizabeth eventually catches up. That’s because Darcy finally realises he doesn’t love her IN SPITE of who she is, but BECAUSE that’s who she is. An important difference. When he carries out his final act of chivalry–saving her sister from a fate worse than death–Elizabeth, too, realises that she’s fallen in love with him.
P&P is full of so many beautiful quotes it was hard to narrow one down. But this one is perfect, because it is truly the watershed of the book, taking us from their unfortunate beginnings and deep into the middle, where attachment starts to form. That’s the best part of any romance in my opinion!
Now let’s hop over to S.C. Mitchell’s blog and read his favourite quote.
August 25, 2015
Flashfiction – Romance Weekly #LoveChatWrite Blog Hop -25th August 2015
, hi, and thanks for clicking, and don’t forget to check out her book The Girl He Knows – currently on sale for 99c.
This Fiona Riplee has posed the following challenge:
Your hero & heroine are playing an “old-school” board game (one with an actual board or pieces old or new – just not a video game). The winner gets a special prize. 1000 words or less.
“Okay, so we have Clue, Monopoly, and I think there’s a really old chessboard somewhere back here. Any of those appeal?”
It takes a moment to realise he’s asked a question. I’m too busy staring at the sliver of skin between his belt and the hem of his shirt, revealed when he bent over to sort through the games closet.
“Kirsty?” he prompts again.
Jesus, when did he grow up? The last time I saw Nate Matthews he was still losing his battle with puberty, his voice spanning two octaves with a vocal range an opera singer would be proud of. That was ten years ago. The man kneeling in front of me bears only the faintest resemblance to that long-ago teen.
“I can’t play chess.” My reply is as dumb as the rest of me. I’m too transfixed by his long, thick eyelashes to think of anything else. Calm yourself, woman. He’s your best friend’s little brother. Completely verboten.
Therefore all the more alluring.
“I could teach you.” He sits back on his haunches, flashing me a dazzling smile. “It’s not as if we have anything else to do.”
He isn’t wrong. The rain battering against the windows of his parent’s holiday cottage is a reminder of why we are here alone. His sister, Cara, plus her boyfriend Dean and our other friend Marie should be on the last ferry tonight. But with the weather being as it is, there’s no way the ferryman will chance the crossing. So it’s me and Nate, plus a closet full of board games.
And a whole host of my raging hormones.
“How’s college?” I ask him. Cara keeps me up to date with her family’s news, and I know Nate’s studying Physics at MIT. I graduated last year, being two years older than the kneeling Adonis, and am currently interning at an advertising firm in New York. That’s why I jumped at the chance of a week’s cheap vacation at the Matthews’ lake house in Michigan. Nate and I flew in this morning, hiring a car to cover the 200 miles to the lake, while the others were driving up after work.
Of course they’ll be sleeping on the other side of the lake tonight, while Nate and I weather the storm here. Alone. Just the two of us.
He sets up the chess board with nimble fingers. How many times has he done this? He lays each piece in sequence as if it’s his second nature. There’s something unbearably sexy about his nerdiness.
“Is it hot in here?” I ask. “This storm hasn’t gotten rid of the humidity.”
He looks amused. “I was just thinking how cool it was getting. Do you want me to find a fan? I’m pretty sure Mom keeps one here somewhere…” Nate looks around, his brows dropping into a frown. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, and it sparks a memory. Twelve year old Nate trying to explain why the Theory of Relativity was really cool, while Cara and I laughed uproariously at him.
I’m not laughing now.
“I’m okay. Maybe I’m having a hot flush,” I tell him. “Premature menopause or something.”
Nate starts to laugh. “I know you’re older than me, but I don’t think you’re quite middle aged yet. You’re way too young and pretty for that.”
Is it stupid that I want to jump up in the air and scream when he calls me pretty?
“You go first.” He gestures at the board. I reach out for a black pawn. “No, white always goes first in chess.” There go those long eyelashes again. “And you can move two spaces forward if you want.”
I lift up the white pawn and place it two squares ahead. “Like that?” I smile when I ask.
He grins back. “Perfect.”
Nate plays his next move and then I take my turn, both of us flirting to the soundtrack of the storm. When I lift up my knight and slide it diagonally across the board, Nate wraps his hand around mine to show me the right way to move it.
“He moves like that?” I raise my eyebrows. “What kind of game is this anyway? I knew we should have played Monopoly.”
“I’d have kicked your ass at that too.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I say. “But at least I’d have known what I’m doing.”
His hand is still holding mine. “Don’t you like me telling you what to do?”
I’m about to reply when a crash of thunder echoes across the lake and the lights flicker three times before going out altogether. The sudden blackness makes my chest tighten with panic and I reach out, my hand opening and closing until I grab hold of Nate’s top. My fingers close around it in a vice grip.
“Nate? I hate the dark.” Fear strangles my words.
A moment later his arms circle my waist. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s just a power cut.”
There’s something warm and reassuring about his embrace, but my heart is still racing. “Do you have a generator or some candles?”
“There’s a whole bundle of them in the kitchen, but I’m gonna have to leave you to get them.” He’s so close I can feel his breath on my ear. “Will you be okay?”
“No! Take me with you.” I stand up, my sudden movement knocking the chessboard. I can hear the pieces scatter across the wooden floor. “Oh shit.”
“Let’s call it a draw.” Amusement is laced through his words. “Or we can have a rematch tomorrow.”
He guides me into the kitchen, one hand circling my waist, the other holding my hand. He’s warm, he’s strong, he makes me feel safe. He may be Cara’s little brother but he’s all man, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than lose to chess to him every night this week.
Every day, too, if it comes to that.
“A rematch, definitely.”
I made it in 995 words! Now let’s hop over to S. C. Mitchell’s blog and take a read of his flash fiction.
