Legend of the Protectors

Excerpt from an all new In The Dark

2010-08-17T11:46:00.000-07:00

The darkness held no sign of life. Memphis’s muscles tensed as a cold breeze flew past her.

Her lips twitched in pleasure as tingles of electrical current slithered from the nape of her neck, down her spine, and caught fire at the clawed fist of the griffin tattooed at her hip. The image had started out as what she believed was a birthmark of an eye, but over the years had spread into the griffin. With each kill, another element of the beast appeared.

Laughter erupted on all sides of her and she braced for battle, her hand on the hilt of the short dagger sheathed on her thigh. Just as the first shadow shifted into a crouch, a strong hand grasped hers and pulled her at top speed out of the dark alley.

She tried dragging her feet, but the body attached to the hand must have been solid muscle and outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.

“Dammit, let go.” She yanked her hand, but only managed to have the hold tightened. She knew you never pulled against the hand but pushed into it, but at the angle she was currently in, she couldn’t do that.

“Don’t be stupid,” the deep, masculine voice said, sending a purely sensual shiver through her system. He stopped long enough to look over his shoulder at her and say, “Little girls shouldn’t play in dark alleys,” and he was tugging her behind him again.

Given in to the knowledge that she couldn’t very well fight with this idiot-turned-hero around, she raced with him up a flight of stairs, through a hall, and back down another flight. Out the door, back into the night and on the street, they ran for a few miles before a click sounded in the silent night air and a car door slung open.

“Get in,” the dark knight yelled.

With a half sigh, half laugh, Memphis slumped into the passenger seat of a very clean, very sleek sports car. He hit speeds over one hundred miles per hour as he made his way through the sleepy streets of Austin. Working on finding some sort of gratitude that might displace her anger, she sank back into the leather seat and studied the man by the console lights. Dark hair, black as pitch, hung loosely over a high forehead and curled at his neck and around his ears. A square jaw, clenched in what seemed to be anger, added masculinity to high, defined cheekbones.

Her heart sputtered in her chest, caught in a frenzy of longing and fear, two feelings she had no use for. A normally brilliant mind blanked. He was beautiful. Not in a pretty, female way, but in a god-fallen-to-the-earth kind of way. And the sense of recognition stunned her. But how? If she’d ever laid eyes on him before, she’d have remembered. There wasn’t a woman alive that wouldn’t have a clear recollection of this strong man.

After what couldn’t have been more than minutes, he slowed and glanced at her. “What the hell where you doing out this time of night?”

She raised a brow at the growl of anger in his voice and bit back a laugh.

“Have you any idea how dangerous it is to walk around a place like that in the light of day, better yet on a moonless night?”

Excerpt from an all new Legend of the Protectors

2010-03-30T17:54:00.000-07:00

Sweat pours down my back as I run through the woods behind Paw-paw’s house. The fist clenching my heart takes hold of my lungs, making it nearly impossible to continue. My legs weigh a ton and I feel as if I’m running on the beach instead of pine needles and grasses.

The growl behind me is human. Or at least not quite animal. Laughter mixes in with the burst of wind rushing past my ears. A hiss of a name teases me.

My bare feet land on prickly cones and branches reach out to grab my hair and scratch my bare skin. I realize now I’m naked and embarrassment flutters close behind my fear. A fear that pushes me forward though my lungs burn.

Whatever’s behind me, man or monster, stops and I feel a sense of relief. But it only lasts for a second. My legs move slower, and a tug on my stomach tries to wrench me back. Almost like an invisible rope has lassoed me and is yanking me from behind.

I try to scream, only to find I have no voice. The darkness has eaten all sound and light.

Excerpt from Strange World

2010-02-11T09:35:00.000-08:00

Thunderous horns and people hollering echoed around Lexi as she stumbled along the walkway. Flashing signs and steel buildings pressed ominously against her spirit. She did not understand what life-force sustained this planet, Earth. Concrete and steel could not breathe. The humans had to receive oxygen from somewhere. The processes on this planet were similar to those on her own, carbon dioxide and oxygen exchanged through plants. But there were no plants here.

A bell jingled and caught Lexi’s attention. The window to a building had cut flowers and small plants in bowls behind it, but that could only maintain the people behind the glass. What kept the people on the street alive?

“Hey! Watch it!” a husky voice yelled as a hand grabbed her arm.

Lexi looked into the Greater’s odd eyes and smiled. How peculiar—they stayed the same color, no matter his emotion. She tilted her head and studied his features. Hair, the color of straw, blew around on his head. Dull grey eyes stared back at her. A tuft of hair touched his bottom lip, but the rest of his face was hairless.

Strange.

A couple of contest that may interest you…

2010-01-11T16:18:00.000-08:00

The first one I want to let you know about is over at Kidlit.com. It ends Jan. 31st and is for MG and YA finished novels. They MUST be completed manuscripts. The rules are simple and listed here, along with the prizes. 1st place is a 15 page critique of your work. So send you manuscripts to mary at kidlit dot com with Kidlit Contest in the subject line.

The second is by Sourcebooks. They are launching a new young adult imprint called Sourcebooks Fire and is hosting a contest for YA writers. For more information, check out Georgia McBride’s blog. Contest runs from Feb. 1 to Feb. 28, 2010.

Just a Kiss

2009-12-28T15:32:00.001-08:00

Cóir’s breath caught. Her heart leapt as Seth’s fingers shimmered up her arm. Closing her eyes, she took in the heady smell of pine, lavender, and man.

“Open your eyes.” Seth’s lips brushed the corner of Cóir’s lips. “Look at me.”

Without hesitation, she obeyed, staring into the cool steel-blue eyes.

One strong hand slid down her back, fingers spayed, and tugged her closer as the other fisted in her hair. Everything she’d learned over the years insisted she stop the intrusion. Run, her instincts prompted. But her body ached to close around him and give herself into the promise of pleasure.

“Kiss me,” Seth whispered.

As if under a spell, Cóir snaked her arms over his shoulders and around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers. Eyes open, she watched his eyes darken as she parted her lips and traced the tip of her tongue over his teeth.

(Exert from a WIP)

All I want for Christmas

2009-12-28T13:07:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I want an agent, to be published, and have millions reading my work. :)
But to get us all thinking of our characters: What do your characters want most this holiday season?

Vote on a Query

2009-10-16T16:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, here are two different starts to my query. Let me know which you like best, or if I can improve on either.

Seventeen-year-old Samantha Sanders has vivid nightmares—which take her inside the mind of a killer, as she dreams of murders that actually happen…while they’re happening. She discovers a connection between her dreams and an ancient line of Cherokee Protectors, who fight Flesh Eaters—monsters that look like us, but come straight from the depths of legend.

Sam finds herself, not only attracted to another Protector, local hottie, Sheriff’s Deputy Andrew Clearwater, but also to one of the monsters. And this man-monster has the power to control her dreams and influence her feelings.

Second one:

Driven into a lust for blood and for the monster hunting innocent people in her dreams, seventeen-year-old Samantha Sanders discovers her nightmares are more than mere imagination. The monsters are real. And one is stalking her every move. When she learns she belongs to an ancient line of Cherokee Protectors who fight the monsters from legend, her fears spike. That is until one of the Protectors takes an interest in her and teaches her how to defend herself and others. In the process, her heart is left unguarded and she falls into the pitfalls of young love.

Pimping Contest

2009-10-02T14:36:00.000-07:00

Heehee, nope, not that kind of contest. I'm pimping for a friend. She is a brilliant writer and you should check out the contest she's in.

Here's the details, which you can also read about here.

The finalists are chosen via outside voting... there are over a hundred entries... though the entries are short, that is a LOT of entries. We, my friend Tes and I, figure, she need to get some peeps there to vote for her, of course...

So! Go here: http://www.stellacameron.com/scarletboa2009.html click on the entries. she's number 29!

Read the entry and if you have something nice to say :) go back to the front page and click on the voting button and VOTE FOR TES :D

Did I say number 29? I did. Okay, that's # 29 :)

2009-08-27T10:41:00.000-07:00

Picture from Writer's Digest site.

CALL FOR ENTRIES!

Enter the only WD competition exclusively for poets, the
Writer's Digest Poetry Awards! Regardless of stylerhyming,
free verse, haiku and moreif your poems are 32 lines or fewer,
we want them all. Submit your entries by the December 15, 2009
deadline ... and your words could be worth cold hard cash!

First Place: $500
Second Place: $250
Third Place: $100
Fourth Through Tenth Place: $25
Eleventh Through Twenty-Fifth Place:
$50 gift certificate to Writer's Digest Books

Plus, the names and poem titles of all First- through Tenth-Place
winners will be printed in the August 2010 issue of Writer's Digest,
and all winners will receive a copy of the 2010 Poet's Market.

For more information, visit Writer's Digest website.

Want to Join a Crit Group?

2009-08-14T17:53:00.000-07:00

Okay, my romance crit group is having, tryouts if you will, for a new partner.

Please go to Lynette’s Blog Chatterbox Chit Chat for details. :)

And this is for those who write romance. It doesn’t have to be the main genre, but it does have to be there.

Book Trailer for Legend of the Protectors

2009-08-09T20:37:00.000-07:00

Great Find

2009-08-08T09:36:00.000-07:00

There's a blog I found today, thanks to SITS. It's for tweens and teens, girls.
It is fabulous!

There are devotionals, giveaways, and fun.

So, if you are young, or just young at heart, go visit Scenarios for Girls

How to Get Published

2009-08-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

Lisa Saunders is the author of three books, her most recent being, "Anything But a Dog!", and she’s making an e-booklet, "How to Get Published," available for free to anyone who wants one. Just e-mail her at saundersbooks@aol.com for a copy.

Birthday Bash

2009-08-05T12:40:00.001-07:00

So August 8th is Legend's Birthday. The day I started writing.

I had turned 35 three days earlier, yep, today's my b-day, and a story that had to be written popped in my head. I grabbed paper and a pen and started writing.

The story has grown a lot in the last two years, and many more stories have come to me, but it all started with a girl being chased by wolves in her dreams and monsters who looked like us and ate human livers. And then there was the hot Officer Andrew.

So, as a birthday present to myself and Legend, I'm going to query a couple of agents, work on my new novel, and then go out with my family to see Aliens in the Attic.

:)

Whant do yo do when...

2009-08-02T16:02:00.000-07:00

So I got a response to my query for Legend that says the reason said agent is turning it down is because 120,000 words is too long for a debut author. Mine is 95,000 words.
She did say she likes them around 80,000.

I know 120k is too long. Maybe 95k is long sometimes, but that's 25k difference.

Oh well.

Moving on to another agent.

Query + 500 words Critique

2009-07-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

At give a girl a pen, we are offering to post your query and first 500 words for critique.
Why? You might ask.
Because we hope that, with a little help from the writing community, everyone can improve their work and get agents dying for your manuscript.

So go here and find out what you need to do to get in on the critiquing!

Writing Contest

2009-07-26T10:41:00.000-07:00

One of my conspirators at If You Give a Girl a Pen is hosting a writing contest. Hurry and enter, today's the last day.

For details, go to Suzanne's blog,

Tales of Extraordinary Ordinariness

Sharpen those writing skills.

And on If You Give a Girl a Pen, we are critiquing queries and your first 500 words. So submit them to ifyougiveagirl@gmail.com

Great Giveaway for Moms!

2009-07-21T10:49:00.000-07:00

Because of SITS I have found lots of great sites. Here's one that's giving away some great things for MOMS!

Penelope's Oasis: A Place to Relax and Rejuvenate is giving away:

the Topless Undershirt

Mama Mio Boob Tube

and The Lingerie Handbook

It's easy to enter, just read her blog (above) and you're halfway there.
Now go and relax with Penelope and the gals at SITS.

More Revisions for Surviving

2009-07-20T12:19:00.001-07:00

My new crit group is great! Here are some more revisions of Surviving. :)

A bullet flew past my ear and I took off in a dead sprint. My heart raced to the point of pain. My Doc Martin combat boots seemed to weigh a ton, slowing me down. The thick air, humid air, made breathing difficult.

I had to get away. Arcove’s men would show no mercy.

A man in a suit stood at the edge of the clearing, the only straight shot away from the evil men. Was he one of them? I started to slow down as a bullet zipped past me. The man ducked and I decided to take my chances with him.

The noonday sun reflected off his sunglasses, almost blinding me. If he weren’t one of Arcove’s men, then he was in as much danger as I was. I waved my arm. “Run!”

He looked behind him, then back at me.

“Run!” I yelled again, but either he was deaf or stupid. He just stood there, staring at me.

He yelled something back, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Damn, maybe he only spoke Portuguese.

When I neared, he reached out, possibly to stop me. I darted to the left, instantly wishing I hadn’t. He grabbed me and we plunged over a cliff, hitting branches and rocks that jutted out from the side of the mountain. Our screams tangled with the sound of rushing water below.

The fall didn’t last long. I had just enough time to take a deep breath when we sliced feet first through the twisted river’s surface.

He held on to my waist, pulling me up with him. My ankles ached and my lungs caught fire. He swam hard with the current, tugging me along. I pushed against him to free myself. I was a strong swimmer and didn’t need a man to rescue me. Besides, if he wasn’t just an innocent bystander, what if he pushed me under. Still he held me.

“Let go,” I tried to say, but sucked in a lung-full of water.

He grabbed my hair and I relented, letting him and the river carry me further downstream. Away from the real danger.

After what seemed like an eternity of fighting to stay afloat, he dragged us to the grassy shore. With barely enough energy to breathe, I lay intertwined with him for some time.

“Is anything broken?” he asked.

I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked into his large brown eyes. “Um, not sure. You?”

Slowly, he moved beneath me. “Don’t think so. But do you mind getting off so I can check?”

I fought back an embarrassed smile and rolled to my side, wincing at the soreness that plagued my body. He stretched and sat, shaking water from his curly black hair.

“Just bruised up really good. But other than that…” He looked at me sprawled on the ground and frowned. “So, want to explain why we both nearly died? Who are those men and why did I almost take a bullet for you?”

I knew that was coming—even had the perfect answer rehearsed. But for some reason, staring into this man’s eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to flat out lie. So I did the next best thing. Kept my mouth shut.

A Little More Detail

2009-07-09T00:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I was on Flogging the Quill and Ray said he'd turn the page, but gave me a few great tips, and so did those who commented. I revised Surviving (below) and got another great comment.

One gal, hope101, said:

Definitely better in terms of clarity, but the reactions still are off for me.

Consider: she's running for her life, presumably prepared to jump off a cliff rather than face whatever's behind her. She'll be going fast, but she'll still have enough time to note *something* about the man. And she'll want to--at least enough to know whether he's an innocent bystander who should be running in his own right, or another permutation of the Big Bad.

If it's the former she'll be startled when he snakes out an arm to grab her. (I can't envision him wrapping her in his arms, given the pace.) If it's the latter, she'd probably swerve to avoid him.

Either way, if she has any spine, she should be giving him a royal ass-whooping right about now. :)

"Getting into Character" by Brandilyn Collins is a book that might help you slow it down a little. Good luck!

So I've added more detail, hopefully without losing the pace. Any thoughts on this new version.

I took off in a dead sprint. My heart racing to the point of pain. My Doc Martin combat boots seemed to weigh a ton, slowing me down. The thick air, full of moister, made breathing difficult.

I had to get away .

A man a few inches taller than me stood at the edge of the clearing, and I screamed, “Run!”

He looked behind him, then back at me.

“Run!” I yelled again, but either he was deaf or stupid. Crazy woman yelling run at me when she looks like she’s in a race for her life, I’m sure gonna run.

He just stood there, staring at me. He yelled something back, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Damn, maybe he only spoke Portuguese.

When I neared, he reached out, possibly to stop me. I darted to the side, instantly wishing I hadn’t. He grabbed my arm and we went over a cliff, hitting branches and rocks that jutted out from the side of the mountain.

Our screams tangled with the rushing water below.

The fall didn’t last long. I had just enough time to take a deep breath when we sliced through the twisted river’s surface.

He held on, pulling me up with him. My ankles ached and my lungs caught fire. He swam hard with the current, tugging me along. I pushed against him to free myself, but he grabbed for me.

“Let go,” I tried to say, but sucked in a lung-full of water.

He pulled at my hair and I relented, letting him and the river carry us further downstream. Away from the real danger.

Revised first page of Surviving

2009-07-02T22:51:00.001-07:00

I took off in a dead sprint for the cliff. No looking back now.

A man stood at the edge, and when I neared, he wrapped his arms around me, possibly to stop me, and we went over. We hit branches and rocks that jutted out from the side of the mountain. Our screams tangled with the rushing water below.

The fall didn’t last long. I had just enough time to take a deep breath when we sliced through the twisted river’s surface.

He held on, pulling me up with him. My ankles ached and my lungs caught fire. He swam hard with the current, tugging me along. I pushed against him to free myself, but he grabbed for me.

“Let go,” I tried to say, but sucked in a lung-full of water.

He pulled at my hair and I relented, letting him and the river carry us further downstream. Away from the real danger.

After what seemed like an eternity of fighting to stay afloat, he dragged us to the rocky shore. With barely enough energy to breathe I lay intertwined with him for some time.

Finally, he asked, “Is anything broken?”

I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked into his large brown eyes. “Um, not sure. You?”

Slowly, he moved beneath me. “Don’t think so. But do you mind getting off so I can make sure?”

Great Dallas Giveaway

2009-06-22T10:05:00.000-07:00

Over at Bringing Creativity...from my brain to yours Angela is running a fun contest to welcome Dallas Julia to their family. Celebrate with her and maybe win some prizes.

Congratulations Angela and Dustin!

Sarah

Your first five sentences

2009-06-22T09:44:00.000-07:00

At if you give a girl, you can take send your first five sentences of your novel and receive critiques from not only the girls with pens, but also from each other. So send your first five to ifyougiveagirl@gmail.com and the sentences by Saturday June 27 will be posted Sunday June 28th.

Also check out the post on how to write good!

Great Sampler Give-away

2009-06-21T11:22:00.000-07:00

Are you looking for the perfect candle? Home made soaps? Things to help you relax so you can write the next great novel? Well, I have the contest for you.

Go visit Preston at Me and the Blue Skies, and enter for your chance to win a killer sampler.

Celebration of Summer and Life

2009-06-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

If you haven't heard of SITS, then you should go check it out. What a great networking tool.

Now, want some fun in the sun and a break from those adorable kids?

Then go to Buried With Children and enter the contest. It's easy, it's fun, and you just might win.

Tuesday's Storybook Picture

2009-06-16T15:01:00.001-07:00

Wizard of Oz?

Silence of the Lamb?

Or Mayberry?

What does this inspire in you?

Get to know your Characters

2009-06-15T11:18:00.000-07:00

So how do you get to know your characters?

One way is to do Bios on each character. They are a great way to start. I have them on each main character in each book, and on many of the minor characters.

Some questions you may want to include:

Full name of Character:
Reason, meaning or purpose behind the name:
Nickname:
Reason for nickname:
Race:
Occupation/class:
Social class:

Physical Appearance:
Age:
How old they appear:
Eye Color:
Glasses or contacts?
Hair color length and style:
Weight and height:
Type of body (build):
Skin tone and type (j.e., hairy, slimy, scaly, oily, fair, burns easily):
Shape of face:
Distinguishing marks (dimples, moles, scars, birthmarks, etc.):
Predominant feature:
Is s/he healthy?
If not, why not? Or why are they healthy? Do they look healthy? Whylwhy not?

Favorites:
Character's favorite color, why:
Least favorite, why? Music?
Least favorite music, why? Food:
Literature:
Expressions:
Expletives (curse):
Mode of transport:
Hohbies:
How do they spend a rainy day?

Personality:
Are they a daredevil or cautious?
Do they act the same alone as when with someone? Habits:
Drinks:
How much:
Greatest Strength:
Greatest Weakness:
Soft spot:
Is their soft spot ohvious, why/why not:
If not, how do they hide it:
Biggest Vulnerahility:

Background:
Hometown:
Type of childhood:
First Memory:
Most important child hood event that still effects himlher:
Why? Education:
Religion:
Finances:
Family:
Mother:
Relationship with her:
Father:
Relationship with him:
Sihlings, How many, relationship with each:
Children of siblings:
Other extended family:
Close? Why or why not:

These are just a few of the things to fill out I have on my Character Profile Sheet. (if you want me to email you a complete copy, email me at sjlovetowrite@gmail.com)

So what else? How else can you learn your characters?

Well, I write scenes from more than one POV oftentimes. For instance, I have a scene of conflict between two characters, so I write it from my main character's POV, then so that I know what's going on in my other MC's mind, I write the same scene from their POV.

Why? Because if I'm in both characters heads, then I understand them.

I believe that you need to know way more about your characters than just their names and likes, more than what ever makes it into your novel. You need to know them as well as you know yourself. (My head does get a little crowded sometimes, but when I write, I'm able to do a little purging.) :)

Let me know what you do to get to know your characters. I'm all ears!

Sarah

$250 Visa Gift Card

2009-06-10T17:09:00.000-07:00

Now, who couldn't use one of those?

If you want a chance to win one, go here.

So what are you waiting for? You have until July 8, 09 to enter.

Random excerpt from SURVIVING

2009-06-05T13:28:00.000-07:00

Monkeys squawked and howled in the treetops above us, birds twittered. The jungle had been disturbed and screamed its fury.

Still, we ran.

We came to the edge of a small stream and Talmage crossed with ease. My foot caught on a rock and I fell, banging my knee.

Helping me up, Talmage panted, “We have to keep going.”

I nodded. He practically dragged me to the other side, and we started running again. Every muscle in my body cried out in protest. My lungs would collapse at any minute. The humid air I sucked in burned my throat. I stumbled on a vine and went down again.

To Read or Write?

2009-06-01T21:24:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been so sucked into books that you forget to write? Well I have. This last week to be exact. And they aren't the published kind of books either, but those of fellow writers, who are so talented that they pull me in and make me forget, for a time, that I should be writing and not just reading.

I've needed the distraction this week, so I am grateful for it, but I am glad that I am back to writing and have even managed nearly a thousand words today.

Here's an excerpt of Surviving.

I lay pressed to Talmage. Our naked bodies intertwined. Silent tears fell to my pillow. As much as I tried, I couldn’t cease their fall. My body shook, no longer out of pleasure. I’d promised him I wouldn’t leave him again, that I’d marry him. But did that mean I’d just wait for him to betray me?

Okay, back to the MS.

Good writing folks!

I will Miss You

2009-05-26T12:36:00.000-07:00

This morning I found out that a dear friend, Nathan Sellers, was killed in a car accident last night. His brother, Jared, is in critical but stable condition.

So instead of a regular post, I’m going to tell you about 22 year-old, Nate.

I lay in bed, on bed rest by the doctor, since my little boy kept insisting on coming early. He’d decided at 28 weeks that he didn’t like his home in my womb, and tried his hardest to free himself of his cocoon.

My husband, John, is a truck driver and was on the road a lot. My three other children needed someone to take care of them. Granted, my two sisters, Laura and Becca, lived with me, but Laura was also pregnant with her second little boy and her husband was in Iraq. Becca was in high school and played volleyball and had school. Needless to say, we made quite the household.

Nate took care of us. This high school senior took my kids to school. Pick them up when they needed to go anywhere. He even went to their school performances. He bought me ice cream at 9 at night. He even rubbed mine and Laura’s swollen feet on occasion.

He was my brother.

His family became my family.

I’m at a loss right now.

I love you Nate.

2009-05-23T20:17:00.000-07:00

On my group blog, If you give a Girl a Pen, Marj asked this question:

I have a really great idea for a book that I am attempting to write. I haven’t ever written a book before. I have written over forty pages, some of which I like and some I do not. For those of you that have written books how long does it take to write one, how many rewrites do you have to do, and when do you start sharing it and getting feed back? Thanks.

So I thought I'd blog about it.

My first book, Legend of the Protectors, took me 3 weeks to write and two years to edit, and has gone through the editing ringer about 80 times. For one reason, when I started, I had no clue as to what I was doing.

I have books I’ve started and stopped on because of life demands my attention, or the characters quits speaking to me, or research is in needed. But I keep them at the ready, to jump on whenever inspiration hits. Some of these are at 50k words. :)

I work on multiple books at a time, so that can lengthen the process. Often, when I have one book as my focus, then I write it faster.

The genre also seems to play a role in the time frame. Legend is a Young Adult Urban Fantasy based on the Cherokee legend The Stone-Shield which, as I said, was pretty easy to write the story down. But one of WIPs, Surviving, has required many hours of research and the characters are far more complicated than seventeen year old Samantha. These types of books, for me, require more time.

It’s also relative to how many hours a day you write and your understanding of "the rules". I’m writing one now, that won’t need nearly as many edits. This comes with the practice of writing. One thing I do, at least once a week, is practice. Not writing on my WIP, but grab a picture or a song, something of inspiration, and write for at least five minutes. Just write. Don't think. Glimpse at the photo, listen to the song, and write the first thing that comes to mind. I feel, often we over-think everything, instead of letting the story tell us where it wants to go. This allows me to listen to my story as I write it. (And I have some pieces I plan on following through. Surviving got it's start this way.)

As far as sharing what you have, you want to be careful with whom you share a WIP. You don’t want someone who will do major overhauls before you’re finished writing it. If you share it, you need someone who will read it and see if it makes sense. With your first MS, you may want to hold out until it’s finished, then let a few beta readers make sure it all makes sense on the first round. When it does, then do line edits.

Piece of advice: Grow thick skin. I try to always be kind in my crits, but everyone is not. And if you want to be a writer, you must take crit. Decide now that you want to learn from others. Open yourself up.

But don't take every piece of advice you get! Know your story and characters well enough to know if something will work for them. In the beginning, I changed everything that was critiqued as being wrong in someone else's eyes, fixed everything they thought would be better, to the point that it no longer felt like my story. I then went back to the original document and started over.

And the last thing, BACK UP EVERYTHING! And keep old documents!

This has saved me many times. Date the changes and save them, then when you work the next day, you save it under that date. I didn't do this date save in the beginning and lost a lot of work one day. When told about the date save, I have done it, and am soooo thankful I have. I also, not only save to my computer, but have bought an external harddrive and save to it. Then, I email it to myself and put it in the folder for that story. Saves a lot of worry, because I can access it from anywhere. (Oh, save in doc. even if you have docx. becasue I just recently realized that I couldn't open my attachment at my sis in laws, because she has an older Word. So now I save in both.)

Good luck in your writing endeavors! And have fun!

Purple Prose Contest at QT

2009-05-19T21:31:00.000-07:00

Yep, you read that correctly. Querytracker.net is having a Purple Prose Contest. So bring out the adjectives and adverbs, find those cliches, and overwrite yourself into a great prize.

To enter, go to QT's main site, or the blog.

Can't wait to read some of the rich, deep, vibrant plum prose.
:0)

Fun contest

2009-05-19T16:15:00.000-07:00

My BF and fellow gal with a pen, Joyce, is having a fun contest. Go here to check it out. Then read her blog daily for great advice and fun pieces on life~!
Also, check out if you give a girl a pen! You won't be sorry!

Full Request

2009-04-23T16:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, I have to say that I am excited. But I realize that it is just another step to have an agent ask for your full manuscript. And I am not slacking here. I am running through Legend of the Protectors one more time, but still working on my WIP Surviving.
And will soon start (again) on book two, Lone Protector.
There's also editing (rewriting) In the Dark. I need to make my male not sound so girly. :)
A writer's work is never done.
Oh yeah, kids, husband. I have those things too.
Thanks to everyone who offers support, and I'll let you know.
Keep your fingers crossed.

First Seven Chapters

2009-03-21T02:18:00.000-07:00

You can read the first seven chapters of LEGEND OF THE PROTECTORS on Authonomy

Please feel free to leave me comments here and there.

Enjoy!

If You Give a Girl a Pen has moved

2009-03-15T10:25:00.000-07:00

We have our own domain now. So please go here and follow us.

Thanks

Picture Short Story

2009-03-11T14:55:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted here in a while, because I am really working on a new writing blog I started with some friends. If you haven't graced us with your presence yet, please do.

If You Give a Girl a Pen is aimed at helping writers achieve their goals. Where this one is more my journey. Things I do to keep the creative juices flowing.

So today, I will post a picture and write. Anyone who would like to join me, may post their story in the comment section.

Kali stood in the background, watching as Hiyem followed Paui. Today, Hiyem was meant for another. The Gelse waited at the gate for allowance into the village. Once granted, Hiyem and Amua would start their ten day journey to the lands of Bale. If they returned, they would be husband and wife.

Hiyem gazed at Kali for a long moment before he turned away. Kali knew he did not wish this for himself, or for her. She knew Paui had offered him in return of ten woluks and four bazen. With grazers that bred, Zimza could feed its people for many years. Hiyem had been sold to a man with a daughter no one else wanted.

Tears fell onto Kali’s cheek. She held her stomach, the start of a life that would

know no father. The start of a life of ridicule and castoff. Maybe she would be sold as well.

This picture found here.

Book Series Giveaway!

2009-03-03T10:32:00.001-08:00

A great giveaway at If you give a girl a pen...

Bestselling Author, Jennifer Armintrout's series, Blood Ties, will be given to the favorite 250 words of dialogue!

Go enter.

Had to share this story!

2009-03-03T10:29:00.000-08:00

Laughed so hard at this email my aunt sent! Just read it through!

The 'Middle Wife' by an Anonymous 2nd grade teacher

I've been teaching now for about fifteen years. I have two kids myself, but the best birth story I know is the one I saw in my own second grade classroom a few years back.

When I was a kid, I loved show-and-tell. So I always have a few sessions with my students. It helps them get over shyness and usually, show-and-tell is pretty tame. Kids bring in pet turtles, model airplanes, pictures of fish they catch, stuff like that. And I never, ever place any boundaries or limitations on them. If they want to lug it in to school and talk about it, they're welcome.

Well, one day this little girl, Erica, a very bright, very outgoing kid, takes her turn and waddles up to the front of the class with a pillow stuffed under her sweater.

She holds up a snapshot of an infant. 'This is Luke, my baby brother, and I'm going to tell you about his birthday'

'First, Mom and Dad made him as a symbol of their love, and then Dad put a seed in my Mom's stomach, and Luke grew in there. He ate for nine months through an umbrella cord.'

She's standing there with her hands on the pillow, and I'm trying not to laugh and wishing I had my camcorder with me. The kids are watching her in amazement.

'Then, about two Saturdays ago, my Mom starts saying and going, 'Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh!' Erica puts a hand behind her back and groans. 'She walked around the house for, like an hour, 'Oh, oh, oh!' (Now this kid is doing a hysterical duck walk and groaning.)

'My Dad called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn't have a sign on the car like the Domino's man. They got my Mom to lie down in bed like this.' (Then Erica lies down with her back against the wall.)

'And then, pop! My Mom had this bag of water she kept in there in case he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed, like psshhheew!' (This kid has her legs spread with her little hands miming water flowing away. It was too much!)

'Then the middle wife starts saying 'push, push,' and 'breathe, breathe. They started counting, but never even got past ten. Then, all of a sudden, out comes my brother. He was covered in yucky stuff that they all said it was from Mom's play-center, (placenta) so there must be a lot of toys inside there.'

Then Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow and returned to her seat. I'm sure I applauded the loudest. Ever since then, when it's show-and-tell day, I bring my camcorder, just in case another 'Middle Wife' comes along.

Looking for Help

2009-02-28T19:32:00.001-08:00

I have my query and synopsis up on my other blog, anyone willing to read them and let me know what they think, so I can start querying again next week?
Thanks!

http://legendoftheprotectors.wordpress.com/2009/02/27/merging-queries/

http://legendoftheprotectors.wordpress.com/2009/02/28/help-with-synopsis/

If You Give a Girl a Pen

2009-02-27T09:54:00.001-08:00

Some girlfriends and I started a fun writing blog. We decided to have exercises in creative writing, post on learning the industry, learning how to market, and much more. I hope to get a few guest bloggers on Saturdays.
Please come visit us at If You Give a Girl a Pen!

Have a great day!

Picture Short Story

2009-02-24T09:09:00.000-08:00

Goal: Take a picture and tell the story behind it. (And No, not the actual story. That I don't know.)

Today's picture and story.

Logan cupped his hands in front of his face and blew. The heat from his lungs warmed his fingers before becoming tiny shards of ice.

"No one should have to be this cold," he said to his older brother Tyson.

Tyson wrapped Logan in his arms, sharing his winter coat. "It won't last forever. Someone will come."

Involuntary shivers soon turned to tremors, as the two brothers huddled together for warmth. They had survived for two days without food and shelter, and Logan doubted they would make it a third night. All the survival skills known to man couldn't help you if your only shelter stood lone and tall and had prickly needles on all sides. The boys had managed to cut sections of the cactus for food and water, but it offered little more.

"Why would they leave us out here?" Logan asked, although he knew Tyson had no answers.

"Maybe they didn't know. Maybe they thought we'd find our way back. Maybe..." he sighed. "Maybe they wanted us dead."

"Please don't say that. She loves us. She does," Logan insisted when Tyson rolled his eyes. "They'll come back. You'll see Ty. They'll come back for us. Mom's never let one of her boyfriends leave us behind for long."

Inspiration through song

2009-02-20T14:13:00.000-08:00

My sis in law and I did an exercise this morning, writing from a line of lyrics. Here's the line and what I wrote.
Anyone Is welcome to take the pictures or songs and write their own stories in the comments. I'd love to hear what you pick up from each.

the lyrics are by Breaking Benjamin. The song, Rain.

Take a photograph,
It'll be the last,
Not a dollar or a crowd could ever keep me here.

Jason sat on his bed and stared at the picture of Callie in her emerald green velvet Victorian prom dress. Her hair in purple and blue spikes, her eyes outlined in black. Goth prom girl. That’s what she’d called herself.

He let out a heavy sigh. What was he supposed to do now? Get up and go to school? Act as if nothing had happened?

How could he? No one would ever let him forget. Would they? He’d never let himself forget. Her last words formed in a scream. “Jason! Watch out!”

He hadn’t been able to believe his luck, when his best friend since third grade, and the girl he had secretly crushed on since eighth, had asked to go to Senior prom with him.

“Come on, Jas. You have to go with me. Why would I want to share this with anyone else,” Callie had said.

“I don’t dance.”

She’d punched his arm and said, “Pretend. Gah, Jas. You’re good at pretending. Can’t you, just for one night, pretend I’m a girl and not your best friend. Can’t you pretend that you like me?”

Jason’s face broke into the dorkiest grin he had ever smiled. “Oh, yeah. I can pretend I like you.”

But now, the fantasy had shattered.

Callie was gone.

The drunk driver had swerved into their lane, but Jason’s attention was on his date. He hadn’t even seen the rusted Ford F-150.

Picture Short Story

2009-02-17T10:11:00.000-08:00

Goal: Take a picture and tell the story behind it. (And No, not the actual story. That I don't know.)

Today's picture and story.

THE RING OF FIRE

Aree crept closer to the men gathered in the woods. She knew their secrets, their thoughts, their desires--everything anyone would ever want to know about Micia, Arwin, and Sirus.

"The ring is nearly complete," Arwin said, as he clasped arms with his companions.

Micia stood two hands taller than the other men, and held the most power. His head fell forward, in an almost reverent bow. Had Aree not known better, she would have sworn his prayer went to the God of Death. But his thoughts gave him away.

Dear God of Plenty, the turmoil I have fallen into is great. I need thy guidance to show me the way out. How do I defeat these two men without destroying their good families?

Love swelled in Aree's heart as she listened to her brother cry out for help. He had loved Arwin and Sirus like brothers, and they had betrayed the village, and all who loved them. If the sixth ring of fire completed its rotation, the waters of Favon would dry up and their village would be forced to move.

Micia, I am here, Aree whispered in his mind. I have the words.

Without a movement, Micia responded, send them to me.

Waters of life, bind fires of death.

Thank you, Aree.

Aree repeated the words in her mind, as Micia said them in his. Just as the last ring should have reached completion, a hand of water rose from the great lake and swiped it into oblivion.

Arwin cried out in anguish. He had failed. Aree knew that this would cost him his life. The pact he had made with Queen Lavina demanded the destruction of the village of Valuor, or of Arwin.

It is done. Our role is finished. We must leave them. Queen Lavina will poison their blood through her magic. We can not stay nearby, Aree told her brother. We must keep them here.

Micia prayed again, Dear God of Plenty, keep my fallen friends so they will not harm others, and have mercy on their souls.

I won a contest!

2009-02-16T15:15:00.000-08:00

Okay, I have a site that I love! Book, Boys, Buzz...
They had contest all week, and I won Saturday's. :)
I'm excited to start reading these books, and I'll write a review.

SHRINK TO FIT is by Dona Sarkar-Mishra

PERFECT CHEMISTRY is by Simone Elkeles

Thanks ladies at Books, Boys, and Buzz... for making Valentine's more fun!

Video Fun

2009-02-10T13:27:00.000-08:00

type="application/x-shockwave-flash"
width="450"
height="382"
bgcolor="#F4F4F4"
src="http://www.funnieststuff.net/FunniestStuffPlayer.swf"
FlashVars="videoFile=http%3A%2F%2Fvideos.funnieststuff.net%2Fcontent%2F2009%2F02%2F09%2F2%2Fexplosivedog.flv&videoTitle=Dog%20with%20explosives%20prank.&autoPlay=false&fullScreenScriptURL=http://www.funnieststuff.net/scripts/funniestStuffPlayerFullScreen.js">

Buy a Book!

2009-02-10T13:08:00.000-08:00

Snow flutters in the breeze trying to decide if it wants to stick to anything. Chill seeps in through the windows.
I’m ready for Spring!
But I give the cold one point of good. I have no desire to go outside and so I write.
I’m always trying to look for silver linings to dark clouds, and so even with losing over six chapters of edits Sunday, I’ve found one. The new edits are better, and I found a few things I’d missed before.
Now, of course, I will email myself every night, regardless of how tired I am. Lesson learned.
I’ve also enjoyed other great writing blogs and have learned much there. The publishing world is in turmoil, go figure, along with the rest of the world, but I do not despair. I have faith in books. I love books and buy them as often as I can, just ask my husband.  And I know many out there how share my love of the written word.
So do something good today. Go buy a book. Paper or ebook. Just spread the love that way.

I Need HELP!

2009-02-08T16:46:00.000-08:00

Okay, every night I email myself my revisions of my MS. Except last night. I accidentally saved an earlier copy over my latest one from last night today. Can I undo it?
I've lost 6 chapters of edits from yesterday.
Please, someone tell me I can fix this! And how!

Art work by Michael Broadway

2009-02-06T09:37:00.000-08:00

My friend Michael not only writes beautifully, he's a brilliant artist!

In my novel, LEGEND OF THE PROTECTORS, wolves play a large roll, hence the beautiful wolf painting. :)

Here is the link to Michael Broadway's art gallery. Please, go visit it.

http://www.wildheartgallery.net/

Also go here and see his artwork as stamps.

God Bless Our Military, and Our Freedom

2009-02-03T09:24:00.000-08:00

This is an email I received, and it says it all. God bless the men and women who fight for all our freedoms!

The average age of the military man is 19 years.
He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who,
under normal circumstances is considered by
society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind
the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old
enough to die for his country. He never really
cared much for work and he would rather wax
his own car than wash his father's, but he has
never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport
activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a
steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when
he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he
was at home because he is working or fighting
from before dawn to well after dusk. He has
trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him,
but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and
reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite
to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.

He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.

He can march until he is told to stop,
or stop until he is told to march.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation,
but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
He is self-sufficient.

He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.

He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never
to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend
his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.

If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you
are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition
with you in the midst of battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons
and weapons like they were his hands.

He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.

He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends
who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.

He feels every note of the National Anthem
vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away ' those around him who haven't bothered to stand,
remove their hat, or even stop talking.

In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from
home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy.
He is the American Fighting Man that has
kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except
our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

And now we even have women over there in
danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.

As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot. . .

A short lull, a little shade and a picture of
loved ones in their helmets.

An 8th grade education

2009-01-31T14:15:00.001-08:00

This is an email from a friend on mine. How many of us would pass the 8th grade? And what has happened to the education system?

What it took to get an 8th grade education in 1895...

Remember when grandparents and great-grandparents stated that they only had an 8th grade education? Well, check this out. Could any of us have passed the 8th grade in 1895?

This is the eighth-grade final exam from 1895 in Salina , Kansas , USA . It was taken from the original document on file at the Smokey Valley Genealogical Society and Library in Salina , and reprinted by the Salina Journal.

8th Grade Final Exam: Salina , KS - 1895

Grammar (Time, one hour)
1. Give nine rules for the use of capital letters.
2. Name the parts of speech and define those that have no modifications.
3. Define verse, stanza and paragraph
4. What are the principal parts of a verb? Give principal parts of 'lie,''play,' and 'run.'
5. Define case; illustrate each case.
6 What is punctuation? Give rules for principal marks of punctuation.
7 - 10. Write a composition of about 150 words and show therein that you understand the practical use of the rules of grammar.
Arithmetic (Time,1 hou r 15 minutes)
1. Name and define the Fundamental Rules of Arithmetic.
2. A wagon box is 2 ft. Deep, 10 feet long, and 3 ft. Wide. How many bushels of wheat will it hold?
3. If a load of wheat weighs 3,942 lbs., what is it worth at 50cts/bushel, deducting 1,050 lbs. For tare?
4. District No 33 has a valuation of $35,000. What is the necessary levy to carry on a school seven months at $50 per month, and have $104 for incidentals?
5. Find the cost of 6,720 lbs. Coal at $6.00 per ton.
6. Find the interest of $512.60 for 8 months and 18 days at 7 percent.
7. What is the cost of 40 boards 12 inches wide and 16 ft.. Long at $20 per metre?
8. Find bank discount on $300 for 90 days (no grace) at 10 percent.
9. What is the cost of a square farm at $15 per acre, the distance of which is 640 rods?
10. Write a Bank Check, a Promissory Note, and a Receipt
U.S. History (Time, 45 minutes)
1. Give the epochs into which U.S. History is divided
2. Give an account of the discovery of America by Columbus
3. Relate the causes and results of the Revolutionary War.
4. Show the territorial growth of the United States
5. Tell what you can of the history of Kansas
6. Describe three of the most prominent battles of the Rebellion.
7. Who were the following: Morse, Whitney, Fulton , Bell , Lincoln , Penn, and Howe?
8. Name events connected with the following dates: 1607, 1620, 1800, 1849, 1865.
Orthography (Time, one hour)
[Do we even know what this is??]
1. What is meant by the following: alphabet, phonetic, orthography, etymology, syllabication
2. What are elementary sounds? How classified?
3. What are the following, and give examples of each: trigraph, subvocals, diphthong, cognate letters, linguals& nbsp;
4. Give four substitutes for caret 'u.' (HUH?)
5. Give two rules for spelling words with final 'e.' Name two exceptions under each rule.
6. Give two uses of silent letters in spelling. Illustrate each.
7. Define the following prefixes and use in connection with a word: bi, dis-mis, pre, semi, post, non, inter, mono, sup.
8. Mark diacritically and divide into syllables the following, and name the sign that indicates the sound: card, ball, mercy, sir, odd, cell, rise, blood, fare, last.
9. Use the following correctly in sentences: cite, site, sight, fane, f ain, feign, vane , vain, vein, raze, raise, rays.
10. Write 10 words frequently mispronounced and indicate pronunciation by use of diacritical marks and by syllabication.
Geography (Time, one hour)
1 What is climate? Upon what does climate depend?
2. How do you account for the extremes of climate in Kansas ?
3. Of what use are rivers? Of what use is the ocean?
4. Describe the mountains of North America
5. Name and describe the following: Monrovia , Odessa , Denver , Manitoba , Hecla , Yukon , St. Helena, Juan Fernandez, Aspinwall and Orinoco
6. Name and locate the principal trade centers of the U.S. Name all the republics of Europe and give the capital of each.
8. Why is the Atlantic Coast colder than the Pacific in the same latitude?
9. Describe the process by which the water of the ocean returns to the sources of rivers.
10. Describe the movements of the earth. Give the inclination of the earth.

Notice that the exam took FIVE HOURS to complete.

Gives the saying 'he only had an 8th grade education' a whole new meaning, doesn't it?! NO, I don't have the answers! :o)

Confidence

2009-01-24T12:28:00.000-08:00

I love the blog The Alchemy of Writing and read it often.
Today the post was: Confidence: A Scam?

I wanted to share just a small part of what Ink said.

"Studies have shown that people suffering mild depression actually see themselves more accurately than those who aren't (though they also rate others higher than they should). It's interesting, and not a little disturbing: most of us are deluding ourselves, at least a little. But to me it's also confirming. Human endeavor is about moving forward, about what might be rather than simply what is. Human advancement is often based on a sort of blind faith, even if only in ourselves, in what we migth do or become. It's a matter of self-belief."

I couldn't agree more. This is the comment I left:

Beautifully written.

I have to say, that when I started writing, I loved my story. I thought it was good. A friend read it and cut out chapter upon chapter of throat-clearing drivel. Instead of taking offense, I listened to what she had to say. I learned from the knowledge she had gained from others.

In writing, as with life, if you can't learn and grow watching others, taking advice, you are destined to the mistakes others have faced.

I love to learn. That is a part of writing. It is also a part of where my confidence comes in. Am I any better than the other writers of Nathan's blog, who knows? Did I say that I thought I was? Yep. :)

And I believe for the same reasons you expressed so eloquently here. Because of faith and belief.
My husband often tells me that I don't live in reality. That my head is stuck in the clouds. I understand that bad things happen. I just chose to not focus on them. At least not for long. If belief in myself means living in the clouds, then I don't mind.

Come join me, the air is clean on fluffy Cloud 9.
:)

Here's hoping some dreams don't come true...

2009-01-23T19:47:00.000-08:00

Excerpt from my novel LEGEND OF THE PROTECTORS.

My lungs tightened as I wheezed. Snarls echoed all around me. I pushed myself to keep running. The growls were closing in and my legs protested against moving any more. Still, I ran.
Out of nowhere, something swooped over my head, bee-lining to the animals behind me. As fast as possible, I scaled a tree. Didn’t even care if I ever got down again. Once settled, I notice wolves had chased me. Lots of them. At least twenty. What the hell? Wolves? In Oklahoma?
On another pass, I realized the swooshing creature that had saved my butt was a bald eagle. And a massive one at that. I’d never seen anything so majestic. So beautiful. It landed on the branch next to me. And when it turned into Officer Andrew, I fell off the branch backward.

And yeah, it's a dream. And no, not opening the book. :)

Literal or Figurative

2009-01-22T14:53:00.000-08:00

In writing, if you find phrases like, my eyes were glued to the boy, do you take them literal or figurative? We know the author didn't mean that the girl took her eyes out and glued them to the boy. We all understand that she's simply staring. But does that make the writing poor?

Tell me what you think.

And go here for the full discussion. :)

Another just for fun

2009-01-13T08:59:00.000-08:00

This wouldn't fit on the first one, so....

Sekhmet

Observant, authoritative, indulgent, moral and witty.

Colors: male: green, female: turquoise
Compatible Signs: Bastet, Geb
Dates: July 29 - Aug 11, Oct 30 - Nov 7

Role: Goddess of war and vengeance
Appearance: Lion-headed woman with the sun over her head
Sacred Animal: lion

What is Your Egyptian Zodiac Sign?
Designed by CyberWarlock of Warlock's Quizzles and Quandaries

Just for Fun

2009-01-13T08:44:00.001-08:00

Found this on Ceylan the writer's Blog. Take the test for yourself. It was fun.

You are The High Priestess

Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Education.

The High Priestess is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds scrolls of arcane information that she might, or might not reveal to you. The moon crown on her head as well as the crescent by her foot indicates her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know. The High Priestess is also associated with the moon however and can also indicate change or fluxuation, particularily when it comes to your moods.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

And this one too. I feel a story in it.

Mysterious and a scholar, you are a member of the Tremere clan. You are pretty loyal to your clan, well, you sort of have to...especially since you are blood-bonded to most of them. You are the intelligentsia of the Camarilla and are fascinated with the occult. Possessing the ability to use blood for magic, many clans don't like to approach you. However, that is fine with you. You tend not to trust the other clans anyway.

What Vampire Clan Do You Belong To?

Just for entertainment. But it was fun.

Revisions

2009-01-12T21:25:00.000-08:00

There's a great post on revising your work that I wanted to share. To read it in full, go here.
A few key points are:

The right side of our brain, the creative side, is hard to control and therefore our work needs revising. Often many times.

Does the piece have energy or bore you?
Does it feel true?
Is there logic in the story?
How much info are you giving?
How many sentences and words don't need to be there?
Slow opening? False ending?
Are you head hopping and how's the dialogue?
Showing or Telling?
Are the pictures in your mind as vivid on the paper?
Put some time in between edits or read overs.

Okay, this is a very loose translation. I'd really encourage you to read the post.

And happy editing. We're all on the journey to become better writers, right?
:)
Sarah

Jus' plain ol' common sense

2009-01-12T10:51:00.000-08:00

Lessons from Will Rogers.
Enjoy the following:

1. Never slap a man who's chewing tobacco.

2. Never kick a cow chip on a hot day.

3. There are 2 theories to arguing with a woman...neither works.

4. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

5. Always drink upstream from the herd.

6. If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.

7. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it and put it back in your pocket.

8. There are three kinds of men: The ones that learn by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence and find out for themselves.

9. Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.

10. If you're riding' ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then to make sure it's still there.

11. Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier'n puttin' it back.

12. After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started roaring. He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him. The moral:
When you're full of bull, keep your mouth shut.

And there ya go!
:) Sarah

Writing Your Novel

2009-01-08T17:42:00.000-08:00

My dear new friend Damyanti posted this on her blog, and I feel it's relevant enough to share again.
It's from The Fiction Desk. Saturday, 19th July 2008, by Rob. He says:

I thought it might be useful to list some of the more common mistakes I’ve seen writers make. So here’s your very own copy-and-paste critique. For free.

Too much backstory

No actual story

to happen

Aspects of the Novel

Show, don’t tell

show

telling

tell

show

Don’t repeat yourself

“I’m sorry,” he apologised.

Stilted dialogue

Your characters all speak with the same voice

Problems with word usage

Oxford Dictionary of English

New Oxford American Dictionary

This isn’t a novel

as a story

This isn’t a book

So I will go over my MS again. Making sure I do these things. And thanks Rob for sharing!

Outlining Your Novel

2009-01-06T15:28:00.000-08:00

My friend Pierre wrote on his blog about outlining. He so kindly mentioned me, because I don't outline often. If I have a story in my head, and I can't start it yet, then I write down all the thoughts I have about those characters, the plot, and anything of importance. Okay, many things that bear no resemblance of importance as well make it on the page. I keep a notebook with different thoughts, book ideas, changes for WIPs, and dreams. I actually dream often about characters. They talk the loudest sometimes while I sleep. So my notebook sits on my nightstand and I jot down the thoughts before they disappear.
For the most part, I am a free spirit in writing. I write what I feel. I often have three or four novels going at once, because characters speak to me at different times. When they talk, I write. Or at the very least, jot down what they tell me. And yes, for all the non-writers out there, this sounds crazy. But most writers will understand.
I think it's important to find what works for you and do it. Don't worry about what the next guy does. Different things work for different people. If you haven't found your niche yet, keep looking. You'll figure it out.
Good luck fellow writers!

Sarah

Updated Legend of the Protectors

2009-01-03T20:11:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'm a dorkfish when it comes to computers. I can't figure out how to edit my Legend post, even though I did it not too long ago. But if you'd like to read the updated chapter one, you can here. Because, I can't do it on this blog. Sorry to all y'all that can do this sort of thing. Bear with me. :)
Sarah

John Mayer's holiday spirit

2009-01-03T15:28:00.000-08:00

If you haven't seen his blog, musician/song writer John Mayer has the holiday spirit. He hosted a cake baking contest. It's like cake wrecks at its best. So check it out. It will bring a smile to your face.
I'm used to John's music making me smile, but when I found his blog today, I discovered that he makes me smile because he's truly a great guy.
So check out his blog and smile.
Sarah

Learning

2009-01-02T13:19:00.000-08:00

My goal is to learn as much as I can about writing. This year, I will take on-line classes from Gothem Writer's Workshop, purchase Ray Rhamey's book Jump-start Your Novel with Kitty-cat's in Action, and read blogs and sites aimed at helping writers. I subscribe to Writer's Digest, and put what I learn to use by editing as I gain more knowledge.

I am thankful to those who help us succeed. Authoress at Miss Snark's First Victim, Nathan Bransford, Janet Reid, Ray Rhamey, Patrick McDonald, Preditors & Editors, and Writer's Digest. And to the many other's who dedicate their time.

Thank You!

New Blog

2008-12-30T18:56:00.000-08:00

I do most of my blogging at http://legendoftheprotectors.wordpress.com/
But I will do better at blogging here on occasion.

I am querying for Legend of the Protectors, and editing the second book, Lone Protector. Soon, I'll start writing My Protector. (That was going to be the name of book 2, but it didn't fit.)

Query Tracker

2008-05-22T14:11:00.000-07:00

I want to share with everyone my favorite website. If you write, it's the place to be!

querytracker.net
(notice that's net, not com)

The best group of writers and the most helpful grace this site!
I love QT!

LEGEND OF THE PROTECTORS

2008-05-22T13:26:00.000-07:00

LEGEND OF THE PROTECTORS
BY: SARAH JENSEN

“In ages past, our old ones were the storytellers. This was the way things were passed along to the generations that followed. For this reason the aged people made it a point to remember every detail so they could relate it at a later time. They were the word and picture carriers making history and spiritual values alive and important. In recent times, we have made our old ones think they are not so important. We spoof their stories and make them feel foolish. The truth is that we are ignorant of what is precious and how to 'a da li he li tse di'--appreciate age….”
A Cherokee Feast of Days- Daily
Meditations, Joyce Sequichie Hifler

1. NEW BEGINNINGS
The smell of Pine Sol almost knocked me on my butt. The house smelled like a nursing home. Not quite like death, but like it might come at any moment. Maybe the Grim Reaper lurked in the woods surrounding the small grey house.
My new home.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” I took a deep breath and followed my grandpa, Paw-pa, inside without saying another word. After two days in the car with him, I had nothing left to say.
The living room was much smaller than I’d remembered. My grandparents’ faded wedding portrait still hung over the television. My parents’ picture sat on top of the oversized 1950’s TV. I turned it over as I walked past.
“I’ve got the first room ready for you, honey,” Paw-pa said. It had been my grandparents’. Paw-pa missed Grandma so much that he couldn’t sleep in there after she died. I cringed when I opened the door. The walls were a putrid pink. White eyelet curtains decorated the small window with a full size bed sitting directly under it. I wanted to vomit. To think I liked this when I was ten. My taste had changed drastically in seven years.
I dropped my stuff on the bed and went to the cramped bathroom for linens to make up the couch for my best friend Stacy's dad, Brian. It was the least I could do, since he’d shared the drive with me all the way from California. He was on the phone with his wife. I sat at the kitchen table, hoping to talk to Stacy when he finished.
Brian hung up and sat beside me. He rested his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey.” He frowned at me. “Stacy’s out. She won’t be back until late.”
“Of course she is.” I slumped in the chair. Stacy was hanging out with our friends, while I was stuck in this stupid town all alone. “This really sucks. Why did I have to move here? Why couldn’t I just stay with you guys?” Tears trickled down my face.
“Honey, we went over this before the funeral. Your parents wanted you with your grandfather. They thought it would be best if you lived here. He’s your family.”
“You’re family, too. I’ve known you my whole life. I don’t even know him. He’s just some old blind man that I haven’t seen since I was ten. Why is he the only family left?”
“Samantha, you aren’t the only one hurting here. He lost his only child.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t have to pick up and move half-way across the country. I didn’t even have time to say goodbye to my friends. Hell, I probably forgot something important.” I scooted the chair out hard, scraping the floor. “I’m the one who lost my parents.” I ran to my ugly room and slammed the door. I hadn’t seen my grandpa in six years, and only talked to him on holidays and my birthday. How could my parents think throwing me to the wolves like this would help me? I wanted to go home.
*****
Sunday morning I glanced around Paw-pa’s favorite diner, taking it all in. Old wagon wheels and lanterns adorned the walls, and the concrete floor was stained to resemble stone.
“I’ve got things set up to help you out, Don,” Brian said to Paw-pa.
I didn’t look at him or Paw-pa. Not that either noticed.
“Thank you, Brian, but I think we’ll be fine without it.”
Four men at the counter joked obnoxiously loud, oblivious of others in the room. Before their deafening laughter got any more out of hand, a man, well over six feet, rose and sauntered over to them. Wow, he’s beautiful. My heart beat a little faster. He wore a tan deputy’s uniform. His black hair, short in the back, a little longer on top, produced a hint of curls. His dark muscles, visible beneath the short sleeves of his shirt, sent my heart into a frenzy.
I twirled my hair around my fingers and smiled. He didn’t seem to notice me at all.
“Sam, pay attention. This concerns you,” Brian grumbled. I hated when he did that, I wasn’t five.
My eyes were glued to the hottie in uniform. The men smiled and quieted down. He returned to his booth where another officer sat.
“What?” I still didn’t look at Brian.
“Don’t snarl at me, young lady. We all have adjustments to make. Don’t take your frustrations out on us.”
I bit my lip and smiled in an attempt to be pleasant. He was right after all, it’s not like he or Paw-pa were responsible for what happened. “Sorry. I’ll try to behave.”
“Thank you. That’s better.” He took my hand and told me what I’d need for school, and something about a file box at Paw-pa’s house.
Whatever.
I looked back to Officer Hotness and Brian seemed to give up talking to me. He paid our bill and I almost tripped over Paw-pa as I tried to walk out seductively, shaking my hips with a slight exaggeration. Okay, not completely graceful. But maybe Tahlequah wouldn’t be so bad after all.
*****
Around five that evening, Brian called me out to the living room.
“There’s also the matter of the bank account I set up for you. It’s at the First National Bank of Tahlequah. You have to go in and sign papers. Take your license and birth certificate with you.
“I’m sending Don money each month to help out. I’ve put a little in your account, if you need more, call me and we’ll talk about it. Remember, you can always call me if you need anything—anything at all.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.
I loved him like a second dad and I knew that he loved me. Why couldn’t my parents have seen that? Why did they have to send me out here? I realized if I wanted to be mad, it should be at my parents. They were the ones who died and left me with some blind man I didn’t know.
“Now, I have one favor to ask of you,” Brian said. “Will you please call us, or e-mail us at least once a week to let us know how you’re doing?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Thank you, honey. I’m going to have to leave soon. I need to reach the airport before seven. Your grandfather’s friend will be here in a few minutes to pick me up and drive me to Tulsa.”
“I love all of you so much. Thanks. Sorry I was such a butt.” My fingertips barely touched as I hugged the ex-linebacker.
“I understand, Samantha, but try to tone it down. Your grandpa’s suffered just as much as you have.”
I nodded and took the file box to my room. Just as I came back to the living room, someone knocked. Brian opened the front door.
There he stood. The smokin’ hot deputy from the diner. I almost passed out. He was a friend of Paw-pa’s?
“I’m Andrew. I’ll be taking you to the airport.” He extended his hand, shaking Brian’s.
Brian grabbed his bag, turned to me and smiled. “I love you kiddo.”
“I love you, too.” I smiled, despite the pain in my heart.
He turned around and walked to where Paw-pa stood in the kitchen doorway and placed his hand on Paw-pa’s shoulder.
“Don, I’ve got to go.”
Paw-pa held out his hand and waited for Brian to take it. “Thank you for all that your family has done for Sam. And thanks for being such a great friend to Hannah and Adam. I know they really loved your family.”
A tear fell when Paw-pa said my parents’ names. As I wiped my eyes, I noticed Andrew watching me. I blushed and looked away.
Brian pulled the door behind him and I turned and ambled back to my bedroom.
*****
Weightless and strikingly fast, I bolted through the deep woods. Hunger—unquenchable. The tent was a welcome sight. My hands before me were cold. Steel. They sliced through the nylon like a hot knife in butter, making no sound. A man and woman slept, backs to each other. She’s too large, his liver will be healthier, I thought.
With the same amount of effort it would take to drag a doll across the floor, I pulled him from the tent. Then the scene shifted and a thick fog, similar to the smog of L.A., choked me. I fumbled around in the dark, and smacked into tree after tree, fighting my way out of that dreary forest.
I floated through the treetops. Snarls and growls twisted up to me, intensifying with each passing second. Out of nowhere, something jumped up, nipping my feet. I tried to scream, but only a silent gasp left my lips.
Lifting my legs, I swam with all my might. My arms flapped to keep me from falling back toward the ground—to the beast that wanted to eat me. I swam harder, not knowing if it would be enough.
My heart pumped erratically. I could barely breathe. My lungs felt full of water instead of air. I gasped in desperation while my muscles tightened in my chest. About to give way to the fear—a light came and brought with it air and a steely guitar music I’d never heard before.
I relaxed my arms and floated toward the brilliant blue glow. Suddenly, wrapped in the bright light, I felt a strong yearning to be held by Officer Andrew.
I sat up in bed, my stomach knotted. I was very awake now. Why would I even think of him? What did it mean? Taking a deep breath, I tried to clear the jumbled thoughts created by that nightmare. My clock blinked six-thirty. I forced myself up, so needing to shower, and lumbered to the bathroom. My muscles relaxed under the flow of warm water.
I dried off and combed out my waist length auburn hair and blew it dry. Dressed in my favorite capri’s and a short sleeved, hot pink shirt, I studied myself in the mirror. Satisfied, I left the bathroom.
Paw-pa sat at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of orange juice. “Does it always take you that long to get ready each morning?”
I looked at the clock on the wall; it was seven-forty. “Not usually, but I wanted to look good my first day of school.” I opened a cabinet. “You want some breakfast?”
Paw-pa hit the button on the radio, which announced the time. “No, Cara will be here in about twenty minutes. She cooks and cleans the house. If you’d like to wait, I’m sure she would be happy to fix you something as well.”
“I can fix breakfast and clean. You don’t have to pay someone to come in anymore. If I’m gonna be here, I might as well be useful.”
“Don’t be silly, honey. I enjoy her company. Besides, she’s come here since I lost my sight. She doesn’t just cook and clean, she takes me places, reads to me, and keeps me company. She’s really helped me over the past five years. I don’t know if I’d have made it without her.”
“I understand that, but I can—”
“How about we decide later when Cara and I can discuss it.” He got up from the table and went to the living room.
I wanted to scream. Or pull out my hair. I’m not five. I hate being here. I hate you for making me be here.
The morning news floated in from the living room. “Another mysterious murder…Man dragged from tent early this morning and sliced in two while wife slept.” I didn’t hear anymore. Didn’t that happen yesterday? But I hadn’t watched the news yesterday, so how could I have heard about the attack?
Freaky déjà vu. I ate a bowl of cereal and washed my dishes. Since I didn’t know where to go, I needed to leave for school early. And I had promised Brian that I’d be nice, so I calmed down and went to the living room. “Paw-pa, do you have any idea where I might find this new school of mine?”
After his directions, I grabbed my bag and headed to my Honda CR-V. I drove the five miles into Tahlequah and looked around. “Freak. What street did Paw-pa say to take?” I crawled through town, searching for some sign of the high school. Crap, I’d be late.
Even though every road looked a little different than the one before, with so many trees and old buildings, I was lost in this stupid town. Inching my way down a road, I saw red and blue lights flashing in my rearview mirror. “Great. What now?”
I pulled over, threw the car into park, and placed my hands on the steering wheel. I inhaled, trying to calm down, and looked up at the officer.
It was him—the hot deputy.
I stared with my mouth slightly open.
Smiling, he signaled for me to roll down my window.
Hitting the button, my eyes never left him. Wow. He looks even better up close. His eyes were the most amazing shade of golden hazel I’d ever seen.
“Was I doing something wrong?” I stammered. I rolled my eyes, couldn’t even think clearly.
His smile widened. “No. But you look like you’re lost.”
I nodded.
“Are you headed to Tahlequah High?”
I nodded again. Get a grip. He’s gonna think you’re a complete idiot. Speak—say something. “You can take me there.” My cheeks reddened. Maybe it wouldn’t be so noticeable because of my dark Cherokee skin.
He laughed. “You can follow me.” Turning, he shook his head and went back to his cruiser.
I followed him to the school. He waved as he drove away. Still laughing.
You’re a moron, Sam.
I found a place to park and got out. My nerves started to unravel as I stood there staring at all the buildings. I inhaled slowly. Now, to find the office. I walked to the nearest building and opened the door.
Painfully aware of myself, I started down the hall. Three boys stood in a doorway talking. They looked up as I passed. Everyone stared. Or at least it felt like they did. My cheeks warmed. I kept walking, looking over each door, hoping for a sign that would read Office.
A cluster of kids stood by some lockers I approached. Even though I tried to avoid their gazes, the scrutiny in their eyes made my scalp tingle—and not in a good way.
“Hey—are you lost?” a boy called. “Do you need the office?”
“Um—yeah.”
He turned back to the group. “I’ll catch y’all later.”
The short bleached blonde girl beside him glared.
“I’m Keith.” He held out his hand.
I shook it, quickly letting go. “I’m Sam.”
A brilliant white grin spread across his tanned face as he started walking. We’d only gone about fifty yards when he stopped. “Well—here we are. The office.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
He raised an eyebrow and nodded, smiling. For some reason he came off as full of himself. So I tried not to notice his emerald green eyes when he shook his sandy blond hair out of them. He was a few inches taller than me—I’m five-ten—and since the only other boys I’d noticed so far were shorter than me…. Let’s just say, I sometimes hated my height.
I went inside.
“May I help you?” the lady behind the counter asked.