Querulous Query - a little help on selling your novel

So, I'm not really certain the title of this blog post is accurate or not, but it sounded cool. :-) A little help on selling your novel.

You've written a book. Now what?

Isn't that the question all writers ask at one point?

First - Writing and completing the novel is only the beginning. Before you even consider submitting anything to an editor or agent the novel not only has to be written, but it better be edited, revised, polished and as perfect as you can possibly get it.

Next - You need to identify who you think would be the best fit to publish your work. Once you've identified the editor, agent, publishing house, then you have to see if they want to read your work.

Great! All that sounds easy. How do I do that?

ALWAYS - check the submission guidelines before you do anything. Most often, the instruction is to send a query letter.

What is a query letter?

As defined by dictionary.com, a query is: an inquiry from a writer to an editor of a magazine, newspaper, etc., regarding the acceptability of or interest in an idea for an article, news story, or the like: usually presented in the form of a letter that outlines or describes the projected piece.

Beyond that, I equate writing a query letter to giving birth or pushing something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a lemon. HA! Got that visual??

What I mean to say is, now that you have written a novel of 60K to 100K words you need to summarize the story into about 250 words.

Go ahead, say it.

Are you stoned?

Nope. Not. Shaking head.

In about 2 paragraphs, you need to summarize the high points of your novel, capture the editor/agent's attention, and make them salivate and want to read more. I equate this to really great foreplay! If you haven't turned me on, why would I want to go any further?


Address the letter: Dear Editor Name, (NEVER use the generic, impersonal name of Editor/Agent, use a name)

Next, sell your story. This is where you hook your reader and give them a mini-synopsis of your story.

Think back of the book blurb. No more than two paragraphs, under 250 words, sell your story. (A good query should be no more than one page long.)

First sentence should hook the reader. Example: CIA Human Intelligence Operator, Charley Duston gets the shock of her life when she opens her freezer to find the picture of her murdered ex-lover. Worse is the implied message: She is next.

Come on, admit it. You would read on. :-)

Then you finish that hook sentence with a mini-synopsis of your story.

Example: CIA Human Intelligence Operator, Charley Duston gets the shock of her life when she opens her freezer to find the picture of her murdered ex-lover. Worse is the implied message: She is next. Not one to give into intimidation tactics, Charley is determined to uncover the truth behind her ex’s death and bring the culprits to justice. Not knowing whom she can trust, she moves to an undisclosed location where she can covertly investigate the death threats. Here she meets her new neighbor Jake Frisbie at gunpoint when she mistakes him for a carjacker. Attracted to the handsome, easy-going hunk, Charley knows her relationship with Jake would only put him in danger. She tries to fight off her feelings but finally gives in just before her world crashes and she is kidnapped.

The beautiful, new neighbor entrances Jake but he can make no sense of her secretive nocturnal disappearances. As a Special Agent, he investigates her and is shocked to learn she is at the center of an international crisis. Despite common sense, he becomes involved with the young woman and when she disappears, he vows to find her. Risking his life, Jake ventures into the world of black sites and international intrigue to save the woman he loves and expose the responsible criminals. No matter how high up in the government they sit.


2 paragraphs down, 3 to go.

Paragraph 3 - Give the title of your novel, length, and type/genre.

Example: CONNECT THE DOTS is a completed 88,000 word romantic suspense detailing Charley Duston’s efforts to connect the dots between her ex-boyfriend’s murder, black sites, and the attempts on her own life before she ends up dead herself.

Paragraph 4 - Sell yourself. Tell the editor why you are qualified to write this story and what credentials you have in the writing/publishing undustry.

Example: My writing credits include two fiction novels, IT HAPPENS IN THREES and KILLER BUNNY HILL. Just as important, my experience with computer technology, and a longtime friendship with an undercover operative make me qualified to write this suspenseful and edgy story.

Finally and very important - Thank the editor/agent for their time and go for the close. Remember, this person is taking the time to read your work without getting paid for it (yet). Their time is just as precious as your novel. Let them know you appreciate their effort. While you're at it, remember you are also selling your work. Think of yourself as a car salesperson - Go for the close!

Example: I hope you enjoy the brief outline and I look forward to sending you the full manuscript for your reading. Thank you for your time.


See a full sample query letter below.


Editor/Agent Name
Editor/Agent Agency Name
Street Address
City, State Zip


Dear Editor Name,

CIA Human Intelligence Operator, Charley Duston gets the shock of her life when she opens her freezer to find the picture of her murdered ex-lover. Worse is the implied message: She is next. Not one to give into intimidation tactics, Charley is determined to uncover the truth behind her ex’s death and bring the culprits to justice. Not knowing whom she can trust, she moves to an undisclosed location where she can covertly investigate the death threats. Here she meets her new neighbor Jake Frisbie at gunpoint when she mistakes him for a carjacker. Attracted to the handsome, easy-going hunk, Charley knows her relationship with Jake would only put him in danger. She tries to fight off her feelings but finally gives in just before her world crashes and she is kidnapped.

The beautiful, new neighbor entrances Jake but he can make no sense of her secretive nocturnal disappearances. As a Special Agent, he investigates her and is shocked to learn she is at the center of an international crisis. Despite common sense, he becomes involved with the young woman and when she disappears, he vows to find her. Risking his life, Jake ventures into the world of black sites and international intrigue to save the woman he loves and expose the responsible criminals. No matter how high up in the government they sit.

CONNECT THE DOTS is a completed 88,000 word romantic suspense detailing Charley Duston’s efforts to connect the dots between her ex-boyfriend’s murder, black sites, and the attempts on her own life before she ends up dead herself.

My writing credits include two fiction novels, IT HAPPENS IN THREES and KILLER BUNNY HILL. Just as important, my experience with computer technology, and a longtime friendship with an undercover operative make me qualified to write this suspenseful and edgy story.

I hope you enjoy the brief outline and I look forward to sending you the full manuscript for your reading. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Denise Robbins

Who wouldn't want to read an email like this

When I checked my email this morning I found this message waiting for me and had to share. Who would not want to wake up to this note first thing in the morning? What a lovely message to read before the sun even comes up and before my morning Mountain Dew!


Hi Denise,

I just finished reading KILLER BUNNY HILL and I'm writing to let you know that you are a wonderful writer. I loved it! I was on the edge of my chair the whole time I was reading it. What a lot of neat twists and turns that were unexpected. I'll be watching your website for ALL your new novels.

Big Hugs and thank you again,
Lorraine

Thank you, Lorraine for making me smile and starting my day out on the right foot.

All he wanted. . .

On Friday, the prompt was: All she wanted. . .

Today, your job is to write what the guy wants.

What does he want? What does every man want? Is it the opposite of what she wants or the same?

Hm. This could be very interesting.

Tuesday's prompt: All he wanted. . .


Have fun and write something that makes us want more. Share it here when done.

Book-A-Week Challenge Reading "The Truth Lies in the Dark" by Kristin Callender

This week's Book-A-Week Challenge is reading "The Truth Lies in the Dark" by Kristin Callender

To pick up a copy of the book go to Amazon.

Paperback: 188 pages
Publisher: BluewaterPress LLC
ISBN-10: 1604520140
ISBN-13: 978-1604520149

Join us here on Sunday, September 6 when I post an interview with Kristin. In the meantime, enjoy the story!

Blurb: What if you found out that everything you thought you knew was a lie? That the people you loved and trusted kept a life changing secret from you? These are a few of the questions Amanda Martineau must answer in The Truth Lies in the Dark. As a child Amanda survived a plane crash that killed her parents and left her with no memory of her life before the accident. Raised by her grandparents, she only knows what they have told her about her past and her family. But her reoccurring nightmares tell her something different. They leave her feeling like a stranger in her own mind. Then an unfinished letter written by her grandfather thrusts her deeper into confusion. A business trip with her husband Nick quickly turns into a personal journey to expose the secret of her past. As she searches for answers she only finds more questions. Who can she trust? Who is there to help her and who is there to make sure that the truth remains...in the dark?

Discover all she wanted

Friday's writing prompt was: All she wanted. . .

Did you discover what she wanted? Did you write about it?

I did! And here it is.

All she wanted was to fall in love. To be loved. Was that really too much to ask? Jane didn’t think so. After going out with enough losers, who for the most part, either only wanted her money or wanted her body, Jane decided to take matters out of her own hands. She located and researched several online dating services, and settled on Love Online because they guaranteed she would find love or her money back. Her best friend Amy thought she had lost her mind and right now with her toes aching, Jane reconsidered her decision.

Bob stepped on the top of her foot again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear.
Jane held her breath as he spoke for fear she might pass out from his foul breath. For all she knew, his breath singed the hair above her left ear. She had offered him a breath mint, but Bob could not take a hint. She winced, biting her lower lip as he crushed her other foot underneath his much larger one. Holding tears of pain back, Jane tilted her head back, and offered the big man a thin polite smile. “No problem,” she wheezed out through tight lips and gave silent thanks to the Gods when the music ended.

“Would you excuse me?” Bob nodded and her hand slid free of his wet grasp. Jane whirled on pencil-thin heels and rushed for the ladies’ room, trying her best not to hobble. She reached the door with the universal sign for women on it, shoved it open, and let out a gush of air as soon as she crossed the threshold. Inside the lush restroom, Jane located the nearest chair and fell into it.

Her toes throbbed and her feet ached. She did not think she would ever voluntarily slow dance with a man again. “It just isn’t worth it,” Jane mumbled as she slipped one black sling back off and then the other. Her eyes widened at the combination of purple and red blotches that covered the tops of her feet. Her toes visibly pulsed, screamed in agony, demanding that she stop this nonsense.

“What had I been thinking?” Jane wondered as she massaged feeling back into her arches. This was her third date with Bob and she had no clue why she had agreed to the date. Had she been ill that day or did she just feel sorry for the man? Whatever the reason she needed to have her head examined.

The first date she met him at the restaurant, that way, she could leave when she wanted. At the end of the evening, he gave her a peck on the cheek and Jane thought that sweet. In spite of the actual dinner conversation boring her to tears, she decided to give Bob a second opportunity, shrugging it off to first date jitters.
The second date consisted of a light dinner and a movie. She had enjoyed that outing until they sat in the darkened movie theater and Bob wanted to hold hands. The man had all his sweat glands in his palms. By the time the movie ended, she needed a chamois cloth to dry up. At the end of the evening, he kissed her on the lips, a hard, fast, closed-mouth chicken lip kiss. Again, she chalked it up to nerves and onions the waiter forgot to leave off his hamburger.

Unbelievably, this date was the worst of all dates in the history of loser dates. Bob took her for dinner and dancing at a very posh restaurant. A red-carpeted foyer greeted the patrons of Top of the World as they exited the elevator on the twenty-sixth floor of a glass and steel building. Beautiful landscape paintings encased in gold frames adorned the entryway and acted as distraction while guests waited to be seated by the Maître-d. White linen covered round tabletops while sparkling crystal and silver shone in the light from the glittering chandeliers. A lone violinist traveled the room and played soothing and tender notes when the pianist took his breaks. The setting was beautiful and romantic, and had she been there with almost anyone else Jane would probably have fallen in love.

Instead, she was with Bob. Jane blew out a frustrated sigh sending her bangs airborne. Bob could not dance, and she had the swollen and bruised feet to prove it. Add to the purple toes, his slimy hands holding hers, and what could have been a very dreamy evening turned out to be the kind where she wished for an escape hatch in the ladies’ room.

The entire time he held her in his arms, her face buried in his stanky armpit, she kept picturing herself hiking up her ankle-length, hip-hugging dress, stepping up on a toilet lid, and crawling out of a window to freedom and fresh, dry air. Being twenty-six stories off the ground put the kibosh on that fantasy, not to mention that after much persistence from Bob, Jane let him pick her up from her place. He was her ride.

“Ouch ouch ouch,” Jane whimpered. She could not get her puffy toes back into her shoes. “Damn!”

“That bad, huh?”

Jane’s head whipped up to see a stunning older woman dressed in red smiling at her while she patted her lipstick in place. “The worst.”

“I have just the cure.” The woman turned from the mirror and moved to Jane.
“You mean besides cutting off the feet.”

She chuckled and opened her six-inch red sequined evening bag. “That would be painful. Besides, better to cut off his feet.”

“That’s whose feet I meant.”

The woman laughed again and handed her a small bottle. Jane took the offering, unscrewed the cap, and gave it a sniff. Her head snapped back in dismay. “It’s baby powder.”

Her savior nodded and gave a wide, perfect grin. “It’s a miracle cure for a great many things. Rub a little on your poor twinkle toes and it will cool the heat and help you slide on your dancing shoes once again.”

Jane wasn’t so sure she wanted to wear her dancing shoes.

“You can also put a little between your décolletage and it will keep the sweat away as you kick up the rest of the evening.”

“Does it work on sweaty palms?” she muttered as she took the woman’s advice and rubbed some talc onto her feet. “Ahh.” The instant the powder made contact, the scorching heat dulled to a warm simmer.

“Amazing stuff that baby powder.”

Jane slid her inflamed toes into her strappy high heels. “A miracle.” Closing the cap back on the bottle, she held it out for the woman.

“No, you keep it. I think you need it more than I do.” She winked at Jane, wished her luck and left the ladies’ room in a whirl of red silk and a light scent of gardenia.

“Thank you,” she said but the door had already shut. “Well, it’s now or never.” Jane pushed on the chair and rose to her feet. She only winced once as she moved to the mirror to check her appearance.

Slipping the powder into her evening bag, she slid out a sample size of her favorite lipstick and glided it over her lips. She pressed her lips together, moved them back and forth in a rolling motion, and then smiled at her reflection. “Perfect.” The natural shade accented her warm skin tone but did not draw attention. She dropped the lipstick case back into her small bag, zipped it shut, then throwing back her shoulders steeled herself for the rest of the evening, which she hoped would be short lived.

The rest of the evening consisted of a third glass of wine which she rarely indulged in, but needed in desperation as she listened to Bob drone on about his accounting business. Thankfully, there had been no more dancing.

As Bob drove her home, Jane’s stomach churned with dread for the upcoming goodnight kiss. Nerves had her wringing her hands and she had to sit on them in order to stop the fidgety movement. Could she get out of the obligatory kiss? Was there a graceful way to exit an evening without an embrace?

By the time Bob pulled up into her drive, Jane did not have a plausible excuse to end the evening at the car and without a lip lock. Standing on her front porch, she braced herself for what she knew would be the worst kiss of her life. She had not been disappointed.

Hands behind her back grasping the teak railing, Jane held on as Bob moved in. He fumbled the slick movement of gliding his hands around her waist and ended up hitting her in the stomach with a beefy hand. As she gathered air back in her lungs, she knew she would have another bruise tomorrow morning. He lowered his head and their noses bumped.

“Shoot,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, maybe tonight is not a good idea for a goodnight kiss.” She offered him a sympathetic smile and hoped he would take the hint. No such luck.

With quick, more surefooted movements, Bob wrapped an arm around her, tugged her in, and slammed his mouth down on hers. His tongue went everywhere, reminding Jane of an inner tube gliding down an ice-covered slope. It slid everywhere, up one side then the other, leaving her mouth and half her face wet and feeling as if an airplane toilet had sucked her lips off.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Jane,” he said when he finally came up for air. “I’ll contact you again soon.”

Oh, geez. How was she going to end this? “Thank you.” She waited until Bob’s non-descript sedan pulled away then slipped into her house, shutting the door behind her. Turning the lock with a sharp twist, she rested her head against the heavy wood panel and sighed.

“Why me?” Was it written in ancient scrolls that Jane Doe would not find love and was destined to date losers who hadn’t a clue how to make a woman’s, make her toes curl in a breathtaking, heart-pounding, nipple-hardening kiss? All she wanted was to find true, undying, sparks-flying, mind-numbing, hearts-fluttering love. The kind she imagined existed but had never witnessed. Was that too much to ask?

All she wanted. . .

This is a great opening line! Think of all the possibilities. Come on, see what you can come up with.

What does she want? What does every woman want? Does she want what every man has?

HA! Okay, that last one made me smile.

Friday's prompt: All she wanted. . .


Have fun and write something that makes us want more. Share it here when done.

Let's talk Finger Lickin' Fifteen

Last week we read "Finger Lickin' Fifteen" by Janet Evanovich as our Book-A-Week Challenge.

Since we did not have an opportunity to interview Janet, I thought we could have a book discussion. I will throw a few questions out about the book, feel free to answer and also share your thoughts on the book, even ask your own questions.


How did chef Stanley Chipotle die? What did you think of that?


What disaster do Lula and Grandma Mazur get into this time?


What is happening with Ranger that Stephanie goes to do some work for him again?


Was anyone else disappointed that Stephanie and Ranger did not 'get it on'?


Speaking of which, who would you want to be with? The dark and deadly and oh so sexy Ranger? Or the tough as nails, sports watchin' cop Morelli?

In one quick motion. . .answered

Did you write something for the prompt: In one quick motion. . .


In one quick motion, her life changed forever. The day David gave her the anatomically correct ceramic frogs changed everything for Jane. Jane went from being a poor college student struggling to get by with no real plan for a future to a very wealthy college student who changed her major from just chemistry to a double major in chemistry and business and a strategy of achieving her lifelong dream, along with a new friend.

From that day forward, Jane’s sole focus had been with a goal of starting her own business. And she did it. In three years, she finished school Magna Cum Laude and opened the doors to ‘Not-so-plain-Jane’s’, her first boutique. With David Conrad by her side or more accurately stated, with David behind the glittery doorway beads to the backroom mixing up the herbs and oils, Jane launched her organic cosmetics business.

The original boutique, which she still owned today along with four others across the country and managed herself one day a week began her lifelong dream of belonging. She loved visiting ‘Not-so-plain-Jane’s’. Jane pulled up behind the store that started it all, parked, and stepped out of the car, punching the lock mechanism on the key as she strolled to the back door of the shop.

Shifting the box in her arms, Jane unlocked the steel door, yanked it open, and quickly stepped inside. She had thirty seconds to disarm the alarm before the contraption would sound off. As Jane crossed the threshold and moved into the backroom, the music of Pretty Woman sing-songed throughout the space. She rushed to the keypad, and juggling the box again, she punched in the first two digits of her code then stopped her finger poised over the next number. The alarm was not set. Frowning, Jane looked around the backroom for Marion’s signature rainbow-colored tote, but did not see it.

“Maybe one of the sales girls?” she wondered aloud as she set her own bag on the herb bench, the area where the staff crushed dried herbs and packaged for such things as dryer sachets, drawer sachets, and potpourri. She glanced beneath the bench. No backpacks or pocketbooks hid behind the lace that curtained off a storage space employees used to keep their personal belongings secure from anyone who would mistakenly wander into the room.

Hm. Jane spun on her narrow high heels and hollered. “Anyone here? Marion?”
As she shoved a handful of jade and lavender beads out of the doorway, she snaked her hand around in front of her and flicked the light switch. Jane froze, her wide-eyed gaze skimming the room.

“Oh my gosh!” Jane slapped a hand over her mouth at the sight that greeted her. Not-so-plain-Jane products littered the bamboo floor of the boutique. Bile rose up in the back of her throat and threatened to join the shampoo oozing out of its bottle onto the floor.

Jane took a step in retreat and whirled. A large hand clamped over her mouth, stifled the scream that threatened to escape her lips.

Something was wrong. . .

It's Tuesday and you know what that means. Time for a writing prompt.

For the record, I thought long and hard about this prompt. Okay, not really. Some days these things just pop into my head. The hard part for me is remembering the prompt until I get to a piece of paper or a computer. I thought of this one last week, but could not remember it and this morning WHOOSH! There it is.

Now you get to mull it over, toss it around, and then write something so intriguing, humorous, scary, or whatever that everyone will be asking 'what comes next?' or 'when can we see more?'

Tuesday's prompt is: Something was wrong. . .

This is wide open for all kinds of stuff. Let's see what you come up!

Book-A-Week Challenge Reading "Hot Pursuit" by Suzanne Brockmann

This week the Book-A-Week Challenge is reading "Hot Pursuit" by Suzanne Brockmann

To find out more about Suzanne and her books, check her website at www.suzannebrockmann.com.

For those of you who may not have a read a book by Suzanne Brockmann, her Troubleshooter series is a great place to start. The stories are mixed with engaging characters, tons of action, and dialogue that will keep you reading and wanting more. I am looking forward to this story.

Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Pub. Date: July 2009
ISBN-13: 9780345501578
Pages: 416pp
Series: Troubleshooters Series, #15

Buy: B&N
Amazon

Blurb: Alyssa Locke is no stranger to dealing with danger. As team leader of the nation's number one personal security company, Troubleshooters, Inc., she's seen more than her share of action, survived plenty of close calls, and holds her own with the best of them--and against the worst of them. Guarding lives is her game, and no one plays it better. But her toughest challenge will be protecting herself from a serial killer she’s been after for years -- known only as “The Dentist” -- who is determined to make her his ultimate trophy.

The assignment was supposed to be an easy one: teach self-defense techniques to a newly-elected New York State Assemblywoman and her chief of staff, after a political controversy generates a blizzard of hate mail – including some death threats -- from hotheads and cranks. But as soon as she mobilizes in New York City with her squad of moonlighting Navy SEALs, Alyssa begins butting heads with the hard-case cop who thinks they’re chasing shadows.

Until they discover a dead body. And then another. Now Alyssa really has her hands full --.bodyguarding two independent, busy women, managing a murder investigation, and trying to find time for her husband, Troubleshooters operative Sam Starrett, and their infant son. Meanwhile, it wouldn't be a Troubleshooters operation without romantic sparks and heated rivalries--and any time the SEALs of Team Sixteen are involved, there are plenty of both.

But then, in the middle of investigating a suspect, Alyssa is ambushed, and suddenly finds herself imprisoned by The Dentist. Now cut off from everyone she loves and relies on, Alyssa must call upon all of her strength and skill to survive this final confrontation with the sadistic monster, and trust that her Troubleshooter teammates, led by her beloved Sam, will reach her before it’s too late.

The voice she heard. . .response

I finally had a long enough moment to work on Tuesday's writing prompt. You tell me if I captured the scene.

Prompt: The voice she heard. . .

The voice she heard crept into her vision, a dark shadow in the corner of her mind. Jane turned her head on the pillow in an attempt to see who spoke to her. Her search yielded nothing, no one.

“Where are you? I can’t see you.”

The voice was silent. Jane rotated her head to the other side. The cool silk against her cheek offered no comfort as fear plucked at her nerves.

“Who are you?” she yelled in her head.

He chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that echoed, reverberated through a long corridor sending a chill skittering along Jane’s skin, causing the tiny hairs on her arms to stand on end. She paused, her palm resting against a rough rock wall. She did not want to go, did not want to follow him, but her feet refused to listen. Jane moved, her hand sliding over the large, jagged granite that made up the wall of the castle.

Castle? Her heart thudded in her chest, pounded against her ribcage as a fist would pound against a door asking for entry or exit. She wanted out. Instinctively, Jane knew she wanted needed to get out. She twisted and turned in the bed. There had to be a way out. She had to get out.

“This way,” the melodic voice coached.

He spoke! Excitement mixed with uncertainty, and foreboding sent chills racing through her body. She had to find him. Even as a red neon sign flashed ‘go back’ in her mind, Jane picked up her pace. Her feet slapped against the cold concrete floor and her breathing became ragged. She ran now.

Light, a dim glow streamed gold at the end of the passageway, around a bend. She had to be close. Jane sprinted. Her thin nightshirt clung to her body and slid in between her legs as she sweat and ran. Where was he?

“Go back,” her subconscious, demanded. “Go back!”

But she couldn’t.

“Jane,” the shadow man murmured in a breathy whisper of seduction against her neck.

Her shoulders shuddered in a thrill of anticipation. As she reached the end, her hand slid away from the rough wall, scratching it with her nails on the descent.

“Hurry, Jane. Hurry.”

Jane tilted her head. The voice changed, it grew sharp, no longer bewitching.

“Jane.”

Drawn to the voice like a moth to a flame, Jane rushed forward and rounded the corner. Darkness slid across the luminous floor. Her feet skidded to a halt. Chest heaving, she peered through lowered lashes in search of her shadow man. He wasn’t there.

She heard a footstep thud and echo to her right. She spun and a glint of something shiny caught her eye. It moved higher. When it reached eye-level, Jane saw the metallic blade of a knife. Her scream rent the air.

“Noo!”

In one quick motion. . .

It's Friday and you know what that means. . .writing prompt!!

Okay, so I have not written mine for Tuesday's yet, but I will. I'm feeling pressure from the entries already posted. Sheesh! Such talent!!

Anyway, put on that creative writing cap, you know the the one that looks like a rainbow and has a propeller attached to the top. Wind it up and let go. Have fun with the prompt and whether you write a single sentence, paragraph or a short story, share what you come up with. We love to see your work!!

Prompt: In one quick motion. . .

Can't wait to get hooked by your writing!

Write where you live

It's time to do something different, something interesting, and what I hope you all will think is fun.

Where do you write? At a desk? On the sofa? Is your workspace cluttered, neat as a pin? Do you have anything you keep around for inspiration?

Writers - Share pictures of your writing space. Send me an email at deniserobbins2003@yahoo.com with a picture or two and a blurb/bio about you and your writing. If you have a website or blog, pass that along as well.

In the meantime, here are a couple of pictures of my indoor workspace. Some of you know that I love writing on my deck and I have posted a couple of pictures.

This is my desk in my office where I have everything I need to be a good little writer. I've got a comfy chair to sit on and another I move into when I need to take a break. Of course, I have a bookshelf with various books for research and others. In addition, I have a printer or two (cuz one always runs out of ink), and on the walls are framed pictures of street signs that have my characters names.

This is one of my fluffly distractions, Mayhem.

Here you see my two two fuzzy guys finding their respective comfy spots so we can get down to writing business.
This little fur ball is my other distraction, Mischief.

I almost always have a soda, usually Mountain Dew with the occasional Coke sitting near by for that much needed caffeine rush.

Let's talk critique - Help or hinder?

As tonight I am meeting some writers for a critique group, I thought it would be appropriate to discuss writing critiques.

Four of us are meeting at a local restaurant in Lowell to show what we have worked on. A couple of us will bring the start of a new story (like me), another will bring his ending to his WIP (Yea!), and yet another will bring her latest chapter in her WIP.


Do you have a critique partner or belong to a critique group? Or do you choose to go it alone and not get anyone's comments or feedback? Why?

What constitutes a good critique?

Do you listen to everything a critique partner says or suggests? Why or why not?

Where do you do your critiques? Are they online or do you meet someplace? What kind of place? Why?

Who are your critique partners? Are they published authors? Friends or family? Writers belonging to a national organization like RWA, MWA, ITW?

Are all the critique partners male or female, or do you have a mix of genders? How does that work for you?

How much do you take to critiwue when you get together? Do you read the pages in silent mode or do you read it aloud to the other person or group? Why? What's the benefit of one over the other?


Share what works for you and why.

The voice she heard. . .

Tuesday's writing prompt came from Gina Leuci, newly contracted author for L&L Dreamspell. Find out more about Gina at www.ginaleuci.com.

Thanks, Gina!

Here is the prompt: The voice she heard. . .

Ooo! I have chills just thinking about this prompt. What do you picture? Write something up and post it back here when you're done.

Book-A-Week Challenge Reading "Finger Lickin' Fifteen" by Janet Evanovich

This week's Book-A-Week Challenge is reading "Finger Lickin' Fifteen" by Janet Evanovich

Hardcover: 320 pages
Publisher: St. Martin's Press; 1 edition (June 23, 2009)
ISBN-13: 978-0312383282

Buy link: Buy from Amazon

To find out more about Janet and her books, visit her website at www.evanovich.com

This week's challenge will be a little different. I don't have an interview with Janet scheduled, but April from Cafe of Dreams is also reading Finger Lickin' Fifteen this week so at the end of the week we will do a post about the book. Please join us and tell us your thoughts. Feel free to leave a comment all week.

Blurb:

UNBUCKLE YOUR BELT AND PULL UP A CHAIR. IT'S THE SPICIEST, SAUCIEST, MOST RIB-STICKING PLUM YET.


Recipe for disaster:

Celebrity chef Stanley Chipotle comes to Trenton to participate in a barbecue cook-off and loses his head --literally.

Throw in some spice:

Bail bonds office worker Lula is witness to the crime, and the only one she’ll talk to is Trenton cop, Joe Morelli.

Pump up the heat:

Chipotle’s sponsor is offering a million dollar reward to anyone who can provide information leading to the capture of the killers.

Stir the pot:

Lula recruits bounty hunter Stephanie Plum to help her find the killers and collect the moolah.

Add a secret ingredient:

Stephanie Plum’s Grandma Mazur. Enough said.

Bring to a boil:

Stephanie Plum is working overtime tracking felons for the bonds office at night and snooping for security expert Carlos Manoso, A.K.A. Ranger, during the day. Can Stephanie hunt down two killers, a traitor, five skips, keep her grandmother out of the sauce, solve Ranger’s problems and not jump his bones?

Warning:

Habanero hot. So good you’ll want seconds.

Standing on the corner. . .???

Friday's prompt was: Standing on the corner. . .

Who stood on the corner? What happened on the corner? Did you come up with anything?

Here is my attempt:

Standing on the corner in freezing cold weather dressed in women’s clothes was not his idea of fun. The first snow was just days or weeks away, and he stood on some street corner wearing fishnet stockings and a short leather that frigid air wafted up and nipped at his balls. The barely-there silk panties offered no warmth so his gonads crawled so far up inside him that Garrett was not certain he would ever see them again.

He strolled, if that was what you called wobbling on three-inch heels to the end of the street, pivoted and sashayed back swinging his hips as he thought women did.

Again, he wondered how women did it. The bra was killing him! He tried to adjust it the way he would his balls when in a less than comfortable position, but there did not seem to be a comfortable position.
His teeth chattered as he spoke low into the broach pinned to the top of the fuzzy pink sweater he wore. “Any movement?”

“Potential target headed your way, rounding the corner at six o’clock,” a voice said into the receiver tucked into his ear.

Potential target or not, any man who left a warm house to pay for sex or beat up a woman, was a complete fool in his book and deserved what he got. The longer Garrett paced the street the more pissed off he became. “If this guy ever does show up, I will personally string him up by his balls. I’m freezing my nuts off and feel ridiculous,” he mumbled.

“You look great, especially the thick thighs and wide shoulders.”

“Very curvy.”

“Cut the chatter,” Garrett grumbled. “And Jack, you just wait. Payback is a bitch.”

A muffled chuckle vibrated in his earpiece. Bastard.

Gardening is so much fun. . .and wicked hard work!

What did you do this weekend?


My garden/yard is another creative side of me that I like to share every once and a while.

The first three pictures show what I accomplished on Saturday. . .cleaning out my rock wall.

Look at all those leaves and limbs!


The next three photos show what I worked on Sunday, the hottest day of the year so far.

It only took 6 bottles of water to get all this work done. Can you imagine how dirty I was by the time I finished. Not a pretty picture!

Where did all the trees and leaves go? Did you see the tiger lilies I planted near the wall?

Book-A-Week Challenge Interview with Susan Whitfield author of "Hell Swamp"

This week the Book-A-Week Challenge read "Hell Swamp" by Susan Whitfield.
Today, we post the interview with Susan that discusses her books, her writing, and anything else she is willing to share. Stop by and leave a comment or ask a question.

Find out more about Susan and her other books. Visit her website at Susan Whitfield.

Paperback: 196 pages
Publisher: L & L Dreamspell
ISBN-13: 978-1603180948

Buy from Amazon
Buy from B&N

On with the interview:

Are the experiences in the novel based on someone you know or events in your life?

The overall plot in Hell Swamp is fiction—a horrendous crime scene. However, the idea for the novel came from a true story my son told me about a 13-year-old in his neighborhood who killed his first big buck with a nice rack. His picture was published in the local newspaper with the trophy deer. A woman somehow got his mailing address and sent the picture to him with “Murderer! Killer! You should be shot!” scrawled on it. That’s all it took to get my juices flowing.

What are your current projects?

The fourth Logan Hunter Mystery, Gator Creek, is about 75% complete. I also have a stand-alone in the works. I generally work on two novels at the same time. Not sure why.

How do you come up with story ideas and your characters?

With Hell Swamp, it was a true story I was told. Often I find ideas on billboards, in phone books, conversations, the news. Once I decide on a setting for the book (usually what starts the process) and begin writing, the characters create themselves. They tell me what to write, a surreal experience that gets me strange looks from non-writers. I like to have fun with names, such as Nita Quicki, Pepper, whose a chef, Acme Beavers, who chews on toothpicks. Even Logan’s last name is Hunter since she’s in the hunt for justice. When she meets a hunky detective in the mountains, his first name is Chase, since he’s always chasing criminals. Sounds cheesy, but that’s the way it flops. They are instruments of my imagination.

Who came up with the book cover for your book? Why?

I gave Linda my concept and she designed the fantastic cover for Hell Swamp. It seems she has a 12-point buck on her ranch, so he’s on the cover. Can you find him? Cool, huh?

How has your environment/upbringing colored your writing?

I’ve lived in North Carolina all my life so writing about this state seems natural and familiar. I’ve lived in the eastern part most of the time, but I lived in the Blue Ridge Mountains for a year too. This state has plenty of fodder for a writer, even many dialects within our borders. Setting is always a major character in my books. Hell Swamp is set along Black River about five miles from where I grew up. There really is a Hell Swamp, just not where it is in the book. I couldn’t resist using the name for a title and Lisa and Linda agreed.
My upbringing comes out in some scenes, my favorite when Logan reminisces about cutting fields of flowers with her mother to fill the church pulpit on the same Sunday her daddy, head deacon, prepares tiny glasses of wine and bread for the communion service, a sweet memory of mine.

What genre are you most comfortable writing?

I have only written mystery so far. That’s what I generally read although I sometimes vary genres. I’m pulling together noodlings for a less intense, more humorous novel, and possibly an historical mystery about an ancestor of mine who was a Knight of the Bath.

How did you come up with the title for your book(s)?

Genesis Beach is set along North Carolina’s Crystal Coast, so I named it Genesis since it was my first book. There isn’t really a Genesis Beach, NC. The other three, Just North of Luck, Hell Swamp, and Gator Creek, came off a state map. Just North of Luck is set in the Blue Ridge Mountains where a serial killer is on the loose in the remote community of Trust, NC. ( BTW-L&L Dreamspell has picked up this book and it will be printed under their logo in August.) Hell Swamp is really a swamp in eastern NC, and I took liberties with Gator Creek, actually Alligator Creek near Wilmington. The state map has served me well.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Having been a high school principal for much of my first career, I constantly had to deal with unsupervised children before and after school hours. Most of those who got into trouble stayed out all night or all weekend, parents too busy with their own lives to even notice or care. The main plot: Know where your kid is, who he’s with, and what they’re doing.
Also, don’t judge a person by their appearance. In Hell Swamp, Cyrano Blood was practically castrated by his own community because of his looks. Even though he’s gruff-looking, Logan discovers that he does needlework and gives generously to charity. He’s really a wonderful but misunderstood human being.

How much of the novel is realistic?

I think it’s very realistic. The characters are fictional but I tried to make them all believable. Reviews are good, so hopefully I pulled it off. The setting is present day deer-hunting country.

What are you reading now?

John Hart’s Last Child. Awesome! I’m so proud to know him and that he’s a Carolina boy. Look for him to rise to great heights with his literary mysteries.

How do you get inspired to write your romantic scenes?

After 42 years of marriage, my scenes are homicidal, not romantic. Okay, just kidding, but what few romantic scenes I write are suggestive, not graphic. I prefer shock-you intensity.

Who is your favorite character in the book?

I’ve loved Logan Hunter since the day she popped out of my head. We’re in our fourth novel together. She’s quirky but focused. She bends the rules as far as possible and she likes to work alone, highly respected by her male colleagues in the SBI. I also like Magnolia in Hell Swamp. She’s a cute little black woman who sneaks Logan homemade goodies while she’s investigating. I like Rose Paul Hill, too, with her ill-fitting false teeth and her willingness to drink Strychnine in church.

If your book was made into a movie, who do you picture playing the part of the heroine?

Katherine Heigl would be a perfect Logan Hunter.


That's all folks! Stop by and leave your own questions for Susan.

Thank you Susan for a great read, engaging characters, and a terrific interview. Sounds to me like we all need to visit NC for some story ideas.

Standing on the corner. . . Writing Prompt

It's Friday so you know what that means. . .Writing Prompt.

Prompt: Standing on the corner. . .


Now that's a wide open writing prompt!

Who is standing on the corner? Why? What's happening?

Have fun and share what you write.