Helen B. Henderson's Blog, page 101
February 19, 2014
Repost from #MFRWorg - The Importance of Writing Breaks
With the news report this evening that even if you exercise, sitting for extended periods of time (such as when writing) is bad for your health, I thought a report of this article would be appropriate. Enjoy. Helen
The Importance of Writing Breaks #MFRWorg
As writers we often get so wrapped up in each aspect from getting the novel or short story written out, to each revision, to marketing and publishing the completed work. I know for myself it's hard to stop mid scene when the juices are flowing like a river.
But, it's important to remember to nourish our bodies between writing. So, take frequent breaks to stretch your legs with a brisk walk, or get some water, or a sandwich and a salad. Don't overwork yourself to the point where you forget the basics like drinking enough water, eating regular meals, and daily exercise.
If you're like me, you can get so wrapped up in creating characters and worlds and circumstances, that you have to remind yourself with a little sticky note to get up and walk, or go eat. Also, don't neglect your relationships be it with your children, your spouse, or family and friends.The writing isn't going anywhere. I promise it'll be waiting for you when you return. Frequent breaks while writing can be a useful tool. First your brain gets room to breath and your imagination gets to contemplate what to do next. I've hit some golden ideas during these breaks. And like most writers I've asked, I'll quickly jot down notes of the idea and restart my break.
Before my breaks and even at the end of the day, I jot down a quick note in bold red on my current MS about where I want to go next. Even for a quick moment when I'm pulled away, either for the kids or something, I'll scribble a super quick note of where I want to go next, so I don't lose the thought.
Now, if a kid is bleeding or something, I'll immediately switch to mama-mode and take care of the wound or whatever the emergency is. But, most times when I'm writing I have an aura of "do not enter or approach unless it's an emergency." It's automatic for me and my family has finally learned to respect that.
Readers sound off: What tricks do you use to keep from losing your train of thought for the next move in your stories? How often do you take breaks while writing? Do you remember to eat and stay hydrated? Do your health and relationships suffer because you got to wrapped up in the moment?Life will always knock you down. Learn to roll with the punches and get back up. Then go again.
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This article, The Importance of Writing Breaks #MFRWorg, is syndicated from MFRW Marketing and is posted here with permission.
The Importance of Writing Breaks #MFRWorg
As writers we often get so wrapped up in each aspect from getting the novel or short story written out, to each revision, to marketing and publishing the completed work. I know for myself it's hard to stop mid scene when the juices are flowing like a river.
But, it's important to remember to nourish our bodies between writing. So, take frequent breaks to stretch your legs with a brisk walk, or get some water, or a sandwich and a salad. Don't overwork yourself to the point where you forget the basics like drinking enough water, eating regular meals, and daily exercise.
If you're like me, you can get so wrapped up in creating characters and worlds and circumstances, that you have to remind yourself with a little sticky note to get up and walk, or go eat. Also, don't neglect your relationships be it with your children, your spouse, or family and friends.The writing isn't going anywhere. I promise it'll be waiting for you when you return. Frequent breaks while writing can be a useful tool. First your brain gets room to breath and your imagination gets to contemplate what to do next. I've hit some golden ideas during these breaks. And like most writers I've asked, I'll quickly jot down notes of the idea and restart my break.
Before my breaks and even at the end of the day, I jot down a quick note in bold red on my current MS about where I want to go next. Even for a quick moment when I'm pulled away, either for the kids or something, I'll scribble a super quick note of where I want to go next, so I don't lose the thought.
Now, if a kid is bleeding or something, I'll immediately switch to mama-mode and take care of the wound or whatever the emergency is. But, most times when I'm writing I have an aura of "do not enter or approach unless it's an emergency." It's automatic for me and my family has finally learned to respect that.
Readers sound off: What tricks do you use to keep from losing your train of thought for the next move in your stories? How often do you take breaks while writing? Do you remember to eat and stay hydrated? Do your health and relationships suffer because you got to wrapped up in the moment?Life will always knock you down. Learn to roll with the punches and get back up. Then go again.
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Catrina Barton is a real go-getter, who in 2006 turned her avid reading addiction since three, into a vigorous passion for writing. Especially New Adult Romances. Drawing on her knowledge as a Kung-Fu Instructor she makes her fight scenes both realistic and action packed.
When not indulging her fertile imagination to craft stories for your reading pleasures she enjoys hiking with her family and amateur belly dancing.Fave Personal Quote:"An author cannot grow without both constructive criticism and encouragement."Kitty's Links:
Proud member of many writing and marketing groups. An active participant at Critique Circle and several other crit groups. Her love of writing and her family rival her exhilaration from helping fellow writers. That's why she created her blog: Kitty's Inner Thoughts.
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This article, The Importance of Writing Breaks #MFRWorg, is syndicated from MFRW Marketing and is posted here with permission.
February 1, 2014
Year of the Wood Horse -- 2014
2014 marks the Year of the Wood Horse. Horses, people born in 1918, 1930, 1942, 1954, 1966, 1978, 1990, 2002 and 2014, are known for being “bright, cheerful, popular, and fun loving." A wood year is associated with the season spring, direction east, planet Jupiter, colors blue and green, and wind. Fire, on the other hand, corrrelates with summer, south, Mars, red, hot weather, and daylight. Occupying the 7th position on the Chinese Zodiac, the Horse symbolizes such character traits as strength, energy, and an outgoing nature. The description matches the magical equines I've come to know over the past few years, among them the seisag in Imprisoned in Stone, the falaire in the Windmaster series, and the seidheirn of the Dragshi Chronicles.
Illustrative of the magical spirit of the horse is the snipit from the upcoming novel, Dragon Destiny. Read on to see how Marsainn, head stallion of Cloud Eyrie and his chosen rider, Lord Branin LLewlyn, save seidheirn from a winter storm.
Excerpt from Dragon Destiny -- Winging in Spring 2014
Branin staggered toward the small postern door. This time, no movement greeted his questing touch. Sliding the wet iron bar sideways, he felt, rather than heard, the latch release. His strong jerk opened the heavy door and he leaped inside.
Lanterns hanging from stall posts illuminated a nightmarish scene. Mares and their foals cowered at the back of their stalls. Horses and seidheirn stampeded up and down the aisles in panicked confusion. The flying manes and tails of both blurred in indistinguishable color. Branin found it difficult to tell which were the true horses and which were the seidheirn. One spot of order appeared in the chaos. Marsainn and his offspring lined the aisle, white-striped manes rippling over their gleaming midnight coats while the seidheirn formed a living bulwark between the mares and the bedlam.
The shouts of frightened men and the high-pitched squeals of terrified animals competed with the thunder. A discordant twang pulled Branin’s gaze upward to the hayloft where a white-faced servant wrung the jarring notes from a bagpipe. The young man tried to play the slow lullaby that usually calmed the horses during the winter storms. However, his hands shook so badly neither chord nor tune emerged true.
A pair of brown horses at the double doors caught Branin’s attention. Neighing wildly, the two young colts reared in unison. Their front hooves smashed down, chipping away the bar that held the doors closed. If they reached the outside, the storm would blind and disorient them until the frightened creatures ran off the cliff.
“Enough of this,” Branin snarled. “Forget the lullaby,” he called to the musician. “Play the Seidheirn Battle Hymn.” Suiting actions to words, he drew his sword, snatched up a metal bucket, and pounded out the beat. His voice, pitched to be heard above the din, rang out with the ancient call to war.
“Shoulder to shoulder, we charge onto the foe.Fighting we battle on, to the next world we go.Seidheirn, seidheirn, sound the battle roar,Honor the fallen, and mourn no more.Answer the battle cry with honor,Until victory is born.Our spirit can never be broken,Even when the final requiem is spoken.”
One by one, other voices joined in. Then a second and a third makeshift drum added to the cadence. No longer needed to keep the tune moving, Branin sheathed his sword and tossed the bucket aside. He walked among the grooms, squeezing a shoulder here, a clap on the back there. “Keep singing,” he encouraged. “Louder... louder.” With each verse, the effect of the hymn grew stronger while the infectious rhythm kept even the worst of the singers in a semblance of harmony. Seidheirn began to stomp their hooves, sending up clouds of dust.
Branin’s pulse raced and leapt with the words of the stirring battle cry. Letting his voice die away, he listened with his dragon senses. The singing drowned out the thunder. This isn’t possible. A double handful of men can’t make this much noise. It quickly became obvious the song resounded not just from the grooms in that section of the barn, but also from the other three wings of the x-shaped stable. Liam must have heard what I was doing and had the others try the tactic too. A reinforcing energy flickered at the edge of his mind. He realized Eirwen utilized the song to forward strength from everyone in the main building to support those trying to subdue the crazed animals.
For the first time since he entered the stable, Branin felt the emotional state shift. Several of the horses stopped rearing and allowed the grooms to slip ropes over their lowered heads. Now that the humans had regained control of their fear, Branin put the next part of his plan into action. He watched Marsainn block a dappled mare’s wild dash from a stall. The stallion snapped at the horse, forcing her back. “Mar, get over here,” Branin yelled.
In response, the black seidheirn trumpeted an obvious command. A younger version took a protective stance in front of the mare, who now quivered in the corner. Freed of guard duty, the larger animal wove his way through the press of horses in the aisle.
“You know what to do, Mar,” Branin directed. “The horses are primed. We just need to key them into their training.”
The stallion tossed his head in agreement. He nipped one of the browns attacking the door, then the other. They stopped their frantic rearing at Marsainn’s neigh. One snorted and started to rear again, but dropped back to all fours when Marsainn clamped his teeth around the rebel’s neck. When the smaller horse whinnied in submission, Marsainn released his prisoner and galloped over to Branin.
Branin leaped onto Marsainn’s back. “Column of twos,” he ordered in a voice that cut through the bedlam. With an exuberant bugle, Marsainn spun on his haunches. He pranced in place before heading down the aisle in a high-stepping march. His hooves struck the ground in time with the human chorus.
Instead of resuming their breaching of the doors, the two browns reacted to the repeated command of “form up” and moved into position at Marsainn’s heels. A pair of young black horses joined the ranks. When Marsainn strutted past each stall, except for mares and their foals, the true horses and seidheirn trotted out and added to the line. Any of the horses in the main aisle backed into a stall at the line’s advance or joined the impromptu parade. If they did not move fast enough, they were helped along by a quick nip or a nudge from Marsainn or one of his sons. All the stallions and geldings reacted to Branin’s repeated calls of “column of twos” and “parade march.” Their combat training took over, and the animals, although they bore neither rider nor saddle, turned into the line.
The men’s singing became ragged, yet they forced stressed vocal chords to continue the chant. On the next verse, all the seidheirn trumpeted. Before the line completed another circuit of the barn, every horse and seidheirn either marched in the procession or pranced in place. One by one, the men’s voices fell away when a servant or groom stopped singing to talk quietly to the trembling
animals near them. Soon, only the drone of bagpipes from the hayloft could be heard above the thunder and the rain beating on the roof. Branin started to order a change in the music just as the piper turned the final note of the seidheirn challenge into a ballad with a strong beat. The musician slowed the melody with each verse until it became almost like a lullaby.
Marsainn shifted to a walk that kept the earth-pounding rhythm, but covered less ground. Now when they passed a stall, Branin called out “rear guard, break.” Marsainn snorted, reinforcing the command. Branin half-turned to see the result of his order. Two horses at the back of the column separated. One trotted left, the other walked to the right. Waiting men stroked the horses’ necks, and slipped ropes over the animals’ heads as they filed into their stalls. Again and again, the scene repeated until only Marsainn, the two brown horses who had tried to destroy the stable door, and two large black seidheirn stallions high-stepped the length of the stable. Foam covered all five animals.
“Column, halt. Dismissed,” Branin called in a final command. He waited while grooms led the now-compliant animals to stalls. “Just a few minutes more,” he told the trembling Marsainn. Sliding down to the floor, he snatched a scrap of rag to rub down the sweat-drenched mount. The familiar action helped Branin release some of the stress of controlling the emotions of so many men and animals. “You did well, Marsainn,” Branin murmured. “You served your kin well this day, old friend.”
The black stallion nickered and tossed his mane as if to say, I know. I hope you enjoyed this tale of the seidheirn. ~tIll next time, Helen
Illustrative of the magical spirit of the horse is the snipit from the upcoming novel, Dragon Destiny. Read on to see how Marsainn, head stallion of Cloud Eyrie and his chosen rider, Lord Branin LLewlyn, save seidheirn from a winter storm.
Excerpt from Dragon Destiny -- Winging in Spring 2014
Branin staggered toward the small postern door. This time, no movement greeted his questing touch. Sliding the wet iron bar sideways, he felt, rather than heard, the latch release. His strong jerk opened the heavy door and he leaped inside.
Lanterns hanging from stall posts illuminated a nightmarish scene. Mares and their foals cowered at the back of their stalls. Horses and seidheirn stampeded up and down the aisles in panicked confusion. The flying manes and tails of both blurred in indistinguishable color. Branin found it difficult to tell which were the true horses and which were the seidheirn. One spot of order appeared in the chaos. Marsainn and his offspring lined the aisle, white-striped manes rippling over their gleaming midnight coats while the seidheirn formed a living bulwark between the mares and the bedlam.
The shouts of frightened men and the high-pitched squeals of terrified animals competed with the thunder. A discordant twang pulled Branin’s gaze upward to the hayloft where a white-faced servant wrung the jarring notes from a bagpipe. The young man tried to play the slow lullaby that usually calmed the horses during the winter storms. However, his hands shook so badly neither chord nor tune emerged true.
A pair of brown horses at the double doors caught Branin’s attention. Neighing wildly, the two young colts reared in unison. Their front hooves smashed down, chipping away the bar that held the doors closed. If they reached the outside, the storm would blind and disorient them until the frightened creatures ran off the cliff.
“Enough of this,” Branin snarled. “Forget the lullaby,” he called to the musician. “Play the Seidheirn Battle Hymn.” Suiting actions to words, he drew his sword, snatched up a metal bucket, and pounded out the beat. His voice, pitched to be heard above the din, rang out with the ancient call to war.
“Shoulder to shoulder, we charge onto the foe.Fighting we battle on, to the next world we go.Seidheirn, seidheirn, sound the battle roar,Honor the fallen, and mourn no more.Answer the battle cry with honor,Until victory is born.Our spirit can never be broken,Even when the final requiem is spoken.”
One by one, other voices joined in. Then a second and a third makeshift drum added to the cadence. No longer needed to keep the tune moving, Branin sheathed his sword and tossed the bucket aside. He walked among the grooms, squeezing a shoulder here, a clap on the back there. “Keep singing,” he encouraged. “Louder... louder.” With each verse, the effect of the hymn grew stronger while the infectious rhythm kept even the worst of the singers in a semblance of harmony. Seidheirn began to stomp their hooves, sending up clouds of dust.
Branin’s pulse raced and leapt with the words of the stirring battle cry. Letting his voice die away, he listened with his dragon senses. The singing drowned out the thunder. This isn’t possible. A double handful of men can’t make this much noise. It quickly became obvious the song resounded not just from the grooms in that section of the barn, but also from the other three wings of the x-shaped stable. Liam must have heard what I was doing and had the others try the tactic too. A reinforcing energy flickered at the edge of his mind. He realized Eirwen utilized the song to forward strength from everyone in the main building to support those trying to subdue the crazed animals.
For the first time since he entered the stable, Branin felt the emotional state shift. Several of the horses stopped rearing and allowed the grooms to slip ropes over their lowered heads. Now that the humans had regained control of their fear, Branin put the next part of his plan into action. He watched Marsainn block a dappled mare’s wild dash from a stall. The stallion snapped at the horse, forcing her back. “Mar, get over here,” Branin yelled.
In response, the black seidheirn trumpeted an obvious command. A younger version took a protective stance in front of the mare, who now quivered in the corner. Freed of guard duty, the larger animal wove his way through the press of horses in the aisle.
“You know what to do, Mar,” Branin directed. “The horses are primed. We just need to key them into their training.”
The stallion tossed his head in agreement. He nipped one of the browns attacking the door, then the other. They stopped their frantic rearing at Marsainn’s neigh. One snorted and started to rear again, but dropped back to all fours when Marsainn clamped his teeth around the rebel’s neck. When the smaller horse whinnied in submission, Marsainn released his prisoner and galloped over to Branin.
Branin leaped onto Marsainn’s back. “Column of twos,” he ordered in a voice that cut through the bedlam. With an exuberant bugle, Marsainn spun on his haunches. He pranced in place before heading down the aisle in a high-stepping march. His hooves struck the ground in time with the human chorus.
Instead of resuming their breaching of the doors, the two browns reacted to the repeated command of “form up” and moved into position at Marsainn’s heels. A pair of young black horses joined the ranks. When Marsainn strutted past each stall, except for mares and their foals, the true horses and seidheirn trotted out and added to the line. Any of the horses in the main aisle backed into a stall at the line’s advance or joined the impromptu parade. If they did not move fast enough, they were helped along by a quick nip or a nudge from Marsainn or one of his sons. All the stallions and geldings reacted to Branin’s repeated calls of “column of twos” and “parade march.” Their combat training took over, and the animals, although they bore neither rider nor saddle, turned into the line.
The men’s singing became ragged, yet they forced stressed vocal chords to continue the chant. On the next verse, all the seidheirn trumpeted. Before the line completed another circuit of the barn, every horse and seidheirn either marched in the procession or pranced in place. One by one, the men’s voices fell away when a servant or groom stopped singing to talk quietly to the trembling
animals near them. Soon, only the drone of bagpipes from the hayloft could be heard above the thunder and the rain beating on the roof. Branin started to order a change in the music just as the piper turned the final note of the seidheirn challenge into a ballad with a strong beat. The musician slowed the melody with each verse until it became almost like a lullaby.
Marsainn shifted to a walk that kept the earth-pounding rhythm, but covered less ground. Now when they passed a stall, Branin called out “rear guard, break.” Marsainn snorted, reinforcing the command. Branin half-turned to see the result of his order. Two horses at the back of the column separated. One trotted left, the other walked to the right. Waiting men stroked the horses’ necks, and slipped ropes over the animals’ heads as they filed into their stalls. Again and again, the scene repeated until only Marsainn, the two brown horses who had tried to destroy the stable door, and two large black seidheirn stallions high-stepped the length of the stable. Foam covered all five animals.
“Column, halt. Dismissed,” Branin called in a final command. He waited while grooms led the now-compliant animals to stalls. “Just a few minutes more,” he told the trembling Marsainn. Sliding down to the floor, he snatched a scrap of rag to rub down the sweat-drenched mount. The familiar action helped Branin release some of the stress of controlling the emotions of so many men and animals. “You did well, Marsainn,” Branin murmured. “You served your kin well this day, old friend.”
The black stallion nickered and tossed his mane as if to say, I know. I hope you enjoyed this tale of the seidheirn. ~tIll next time, Helen
January 19, 2014
Path to Publishing, January 19th through the 26th
On the 26th, I'll be one of the authors showcased in Melissa Snark's series Path to Publishing. Among the other authors revealing their paths and tips this week are Sydney Katt, Lynn Calhoon, Mary Eastham and Jean Joachim. Click on the following link
http://melissasnark.blogspot.com/ to wander along the paths they followed to becoming published authors. And be sure to check out the other authors who dished on their experiences earlier in the month.
Till next time. ~ Helen
January 17, 2014
Preditors and Editors - A Recap
Congratulations to everyone who had an entry in or voted as part of the Reader's Choice contest at Preditors and Editors.
Among familiar names selected as favorites (even if they didn't end the week at #1) were
Congratulations to Mark Rosendorf for Status Quo who took the top spot in the Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels category.
In the Spirit by Linda Rettstatt, Mystery Novels category, finished a very respectable number six.
Judy Griffith Gill did very well in her debut entry in the Book/E-Book Editor category.
Shared Whispers - Congratulations to M. W. Davis, and the rest of the contributors for ending in Anthology finished number seven out of 50+ entries.
The Writers' Resource/Information/News Source category had several great entries, but Marketing For Romance Writers ended up in the top spot. And number three in the Writers' Workshop category.
To see where my entries, Imprisoned in Stone - Science Fiction and Fantasy Novel category, Recov - Science Fiction and Fantasy Short Stories; and Hatchling's Guardian - Romance Short Stories ended in the rankings or where one of your favorites ranked, click on the button below (or http://www.critters.org/predpoll/tally.ht) and scroll down to the various categories.
Till next time, ~Helen
January 8, 2014
Music -- Magic to Soothe a Soul or Break a Curse
Music can stir men into battle or trigger a lost memory. Stop by Lisa's Conversations where the talk will be about the music that influenced the creation of my 2013 release, Imprisoned in Stone and how the magic of a tune that synchronized men's actions turned into real magic. Lisa Mondello is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance and gripping romantic suspense.
The visit will be at http://www.lisamondello.blogspot.com/
Till next time. ~ Helen
Out and About with Lisa Mondello and Mellissa Shark
I'm trying to escape the dark days of winter by going out and about. On January 9th, I'll be joining Lisa's Conversations. The topic of the visit will be the music that influenced the creation of my 2013 release, Imprisoned in Stone. Lisa Mondello is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance and gripping romantic suspense.
On the 26th, I'll be one of the authors showcased in Melissa Snark's series Path to Publishing. Among the other authors the week of January 7th are are Babette James and Robena Grant. Stop by melissasnark.blogspot.com/2013/12/paths-to-publishing.html to follow the paths they followed to publication and for a complete list of the participating authors.
Till next time. ~ Helen
January 6, 2014
Break the Doldrums of Winter.
New Year is over, the headache gone. A storm is moving in. High winds turn the snow squall into a blizzard. You still have power, or in its stead, a camp light or oil lantern. To break up the winter malaise check out the new releases in the latest newsletter from the Marketing for Romance Writers group. The link is at http://issuu.com/mfrw/docs/01-14. Enjoy.
Till next time. ~Helen
Till next time. ~Helen
January 1, 2014
Cover Reveal - Dragon Destiny
For some a book becomes real when they type, "The End." For other authors, it is the moment, a publisher sends a "We'd like to offer you..." message. No matter what is their special moment, it is always exciting when they first hold the cover of a book in their hand. To that end...drumroll please, the new cover for Dragon Destiny as the first book in the Dragshi Chronicles is hereby unveiled.
Till the next time ~ Helen
December 27, 2013
Vote your Readers Choice at Preditors and Editors
Imprisoned is Stone is part of the Reader's Choice contest at Preditors and Editors. Click on the logo below to go to the site http://www.critters.org/predpoll/novelsf.shtml then scroll down to see the entries. And if you like what readers have described as "a fascinating fantasy world with engaging characters," then vote for Imprisoned in Stone. Voting is only open until January 14th so don't delay.
Click on the logo to go directly to the science fiction and fantasy entry page or on the following link http://www.critters.org/predpoll/novelsf.shtml.
Or for something shorter, the tale of the near future, Recov in the science fiction/fantasy short story category. Contest entries for other genres can be found at http://www.critters.org/predpoll/. Come check out the stories by some of the best new and established authors and vote for your favorite or one that catches your fancy. Then be sure to check back to see if your favorite won.
Till next time, ~Helen
December 8, 2013
Out and About at Other Worlds of Romance
Ever wonder what the author of that book you’re reading sounds like? Or the hidden secrets behind the story? If you missed the fun of the live party with Linda Mooney, you can catch it on replay at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/other_worlds_of_romance/2013/12/10/helen-henderson-returns-as-my-guest-author-on-december-9th
Till the next time ~ Helen
Till the next time ~ Helen
