CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY

My friendly UPS man delivered my Christmas present from Santa early! I got my ALPHASMART NEO yesterday. Let me tell you -- this gadget ROCKS!

If there were any better tool for a writer, I can't imagine it. This is the best invention since the microchip. It's so small, and light, slightly smaller in width than the average keyboard, and only a little taller it can easily be taken anywhere. I can't wait to try it tomorrow at work for the first time! In spite of its small size, it's VERY comfortable to type on, unlike many laptop keyboards. And so easy to download onto a computer word program it's not even funny. It's hysterical to watch the letters appear magically during the transfer.

I just adore this. It's the best present Santa has ever thought to bring. Bless your little frosty mustached, Chevy drivin' heart, Santa. :)

SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN!

He may not have made any lists, or checked them twice, 'cause I'm not really sure this girls been all that nice, but Santa Claus has come to my town already.

Okay, so the big guy didn't have a flowing white beard, or any reindeer... in fact, he's sort of frosted with grey, and drives a black Chevy truck. Did I mention I sleep with Santa? Hey, it has to have some fringe benefits. I got my Christmas present early. Well, I got to know about it early because I had to do the ordering to get it right. Santa gave me the go-ahead to get my ALPHASMART NEO and convienent carrying case for the holidays. It would be nice if it got here by Christmas, but just knowing it's coming is a big enough gift.

Now I can write at work (which I do anyway, but since there's no computer, it's all by hand, and that's a PAIN. Not to mention the even bigger pain of having to come home and type it all into the computer. IF I can read it by then.) I can also type on the weekends we're away showing horses. And anytime I darned well please. Even take it out to the barn during 'mare stare' when I live out there for about a month. Yippee, I can now continue my working even during those trying months.

Don't worry, Santa is going to be getting a big hug, and extra benefits tonight, for sure. :)

Good day to you, too!

I'm having a good day today. That's saying a lot since it's blizzarding, and cold outside, and I despise both. However, I got another request for a partial today, and that warms the soul no matter what the temperature outside is!

So, I'm 3 for 35 in query requests so far, although roughly 1/2 have not answered either way yet. So I don't feel I'm doing too badly in ratio.

Hope you all are having a wonderful day, no matter what the weather is like outside.

BIGGER AND BETTER THINGS

I did NaNoWriMo for the first time this year, and was able to complete the 50,000 words to earn the stamp of a NaNo Winner. It was so much fun, and such a great way to challange myself to push my limits that I decided to keep it up.

A new organization, based on the idea of NaNo started up, and along with several hundred others so far, I joined in. NANOWRIYE is 2006's version of NaNo craze for the year. There are various divisions an individual can join in according to their desires for a total word count for the year.

I've chosen the 250k club as the perfect goal for myself. On some days I am quite capable of well over 1000 words, but of course, life can take its toll on others. So I felt that 250k was managable. It should allow me to finish off the two 75-100k novels I'm working on at them moment, and hopefully at least one more as well.

NaNoWriYe can be found at : http://www.nanowriye.com/

Come join the madness!

HELL'S BELLS QUERY SYNOPSIS

The great gates of hell are guarded by the most ferocious of beasts and only open one way, down. Except for every full cycle, on the fourth bell of the full moon that sounds throughout the spiritual plain, when the gates of heaven and hell are opened wide to bring back lost souls, and those on the run.

Alexander is Hell’s most beautiful assassin. Lucifer himself adores Alexander above any other--a fact that doesn’t set well with Alex’s fellow demons. Alex is passionate in his discontent with life, and all that hell can offer is not enough for even its most treasured spirit. As the first bell rings, signaling a new cycle in hell’s domain, Alex’s ambitions fire into action, and in a pique of angst he crashes through the gates of hell, battles the hounds, and heads to the surface above. He only has three more bells to find his peace before Satan is freed once more to round up his minons gone awry. So what happens when a brooding dark Lord from hell sets out on his own to find a life above ground? All hell breaks loose.

Alexander is overwhelmed by his experiences on the surface. He must quickly find his equilibrium in order to prepare for the demons Lucifer is sure to send after him. Doing his best to blend, and that’s not easy for a winged assassin, he blends into life on earth until a particularly vicious battle in the park leaves him beaten and bloody on the ground at the feet of a perky young born again Christian named Christine who is sure she’s found a brave angel of God who’s just defeated a demon from hell. Well, she is part right.

Christine is forced into the most painful decision of her young life, caste away the demon from hell, or help him defeat the devil, and possibly lose her soul in the process.

Hell’s Bells is part one of a planned trilogy that will give new definition to the relationship between heaven and hell, and just where earth stands between them.

MOODY TODAY

Maybe it's just the infernal cold, and having to warm the car up for twenty minutes just so I can get in without it feeling like entering an igloo, but I'm moody today. (Of course, it's also the beginning of the month, draw your own conclusions to that one.) But to top it off, I'm waiting.

Yes, it's the eternal writer's fate: to wait.

I have a partial on an agent's desk.

I have a partial in the Harlequin Epic contest (that was supposed to be finaled on Dec 1, but got pushed back to Dec 15th... so more waiting).

I am waiting to hear on about 15 other queries.

I'm query weary.

Of course, through it all, I write. I have my new WIP, and I have taken quite a liking to this blog of which I moaned so heavily about at first. Funny thing, these blogs. They kind of get under your skin. In fact, until about a month ago, I hadn't even cruised other blogs. I barely knew they existed. Now I have about twenty in my favorites, and click on them daily to peruse other writer/agents/publisher/etc... thoughts and random rants. It's become quite addictive.

Can we say - procrastination?

Not really though. Sometimes it's just a needed break from a lengthy time spent swimming through 'just the right words' in the current manuscript. Sometimes it's just for fun. A lot of times it's really educational.

Oh, I should add one more wait-I just sent in a synopsis to the 'Honest Critique' blogger who is another annonymous wonder out here in blog land. One who is a slush pile reader for a publishing house. Seems like an interesting deal, and I'm anxious to find out what he/she says about my current synopsis. But it will be a bit of a wait, since s/he posted just today that s/he's gone on vacation for two weeks. Just my luck, my timing stinks once again.

So here's hoping that any of you writers out there have better luck, and timing than I do this holiday season, and for anybody reading: Happy Holidays.

New Prompt

This was the prompt: You just killed someone.You killed someone on purpose.Now you need to hide the corpse.What do you do?

My solution:

Any idiot who sets out to commit murder, would certainly have a plan for what to do with the body afterwards—almost any idiot. Raises hand, not this one.

Poor schumck, I thought. That’s all I could do at the time. Look down at his limp, lifeless body, and sigh. I had thought about killing the bastard for years. Really, I seriously contemplated his demise for roughly five of the six years we’d been married. Sometimes it was a way to forget about the pain, sort of a daydream type thing. More often than not though, it was a very calculated, scheming, all out consideration of exactly what I would do, and how I would do it.

I planned which weapon to use, giving each and every possibility fullest consideration as to its ability to cause great pain, prolong death, and exercise the most excruciating amount of torture. I calculated the scene. The where had to be perfect. At least I thought it should be, after all he’d given me in the first six years of marriage, I, at least owed him a fitting final scene.

A dungeon would have been nice.

It’s really hard to find a dungeon in Hackensack, New Jersey though. Hell, I didn’t even make it down to our basement. Now he lay, cold, still, hey, you know, I just realized, I like him this way. Too bad he couldn’t have been more like this when he was alive. Anyway, he’s flat out on the damned kitchen floor. Not only do I have to think about what to do with his big, fat, gained-sixty-pounds, you’re a great cook dear, nothing else, but a great cook, body, but I also have to figure out how to get blood stains off of the woodwork.

Not too brilliant, I admit it. But this hadn’t been the real plan. For all the premeditation I’d done, none of it came of any use when he walked down the stairs this morning and had to be a smart ass when I asked him if my new pants made my butt look fat.

“Your butt makes your butt look fat.”

That’s what he said, I swear it. Maybe it’s ground for murder, and they’ll let me go on conditions of temporary insanity. No one else has to know that I’ve wanted to kill the jerk for years. Or that I have an arsenal in a suitcase buried deep in the back of the closet. All waiting for the perfect moment that will never come. It’s over.

There’s some relief to that.

Maybe I’ll just wait until the cops show up. Do cops just show up? Or does somebody have to call them? I should have watched more cop shows when Joe did. That’s his name, or was, Joe. Joe Nobody anymore. Cold, dead, Joe.

Where’s that phone?

***

I just love doing those. It's fun. This one will probably, most likely, maybe never :) make it into any WIP of mine. But it was sure fun to write. I like prompts. They grease the wheels. They make you think, even just for a short while about something else besides what you're knee deep in at the moment. They allow you the freedom to experiment. And sometimes, just maybe, they give you a real imagination supernova, and a new story line.

Done Deal

Well, that wasn't nearly as difficult as say, cutting off my fingers one-by-one. In fact, it was nothing more than a good way to kill about 20 minutes of should-have-been-writing time. So it's done, the world will continue to spin, and I can no longer hide behind the anonymous MissWrite.

Some things are for the best.

THE ULTIMATE DECISION

Well, I'm seriously considering coming out from hiding here, and making this a true blog, rather than playing character games and hiding behind the veiled world of screen names. The reason for my considering it is simply that, while it was fun for awhile, it really serves no purpose other than being able to spit a little fire once in awhile without it really reflecting on 'me'.

That said, I'm not actually that much of a 'spitfire' to begin with. It's fun once in a while, though, I have to admit that.

I have started to think that doing this blog for 'real' would be a little more fun in the long run, however. So... maybe I will.

For the record, as anonymous as I've attempted to be in some ways, I have left small hints in the fact that I posted some of my writing below. Although to be perfectly honest, I do realize that only a select few would recognize it, since they are from a closed workshop. :) Cheeky, huh?

Anyway, on the issue below over decisions... HOORAY, not only have I figured out WHICH of the two pieces to work on as a concept for my new WIP, but I was able to incorporate BOTH of them into it. How fantastic. I was thrilled. The murderous one is the kick-off concept, and the jungle one, with some modifications will be a scene from about the middle of the work. I have the complete synopsis done, now I'm off to write it.

Oh... and I came upon a picture today in my on-line travels that sparked my imagination enough to come up with a story concept for it, and it will be my next WIP. (Or maybe, if I'm feeling really ambitious, even worked on side-by-side with the current WIP.)

Check back over the next few days, and maybe, just maybe MissWrite will be the real deal.

Happy writing to all.

To Blog, or Not To Blog -- The Final Question.

Welcome to the blogosphere, then! (By the way, you didn't have to create a blog, you just had to register with Blogger. So face it: you wanted this!)

Thanks for the welcome.

I have comments! How cool is that?

I guess perhaps on a subconcious level, you may be correct. I swear though, it wouldn't let me post the first time without demanding an account and then prompting me to start blogging--which I did not do. Then the second time I tried to respond, it simply would not do it, unless I re-registered, and again... that blasted prompt to blog.

This of course could have been avoided if I had found the right password from my original log-on post.

So, there you have it. To blog, or not to blog, is not necessarily the question. Instead, the question is-just how technologically inept are you? If the answer is completely, you are going to have to blog--and bear it.

Thanks to both of my new commenters!

DECISIONS, DECISIONS

The following are two solutions to recent writing prompts in a critque group I am a part of:

***
Solution 1:

I'm a wimp, and pain is my enemy. Nevermore has this ever been more true than now. Green, also not my best color, is my constant companion in the damp forest. It is enveloping, compressing... it is suffocating. It hurts almost worse than my arm.

The drizzling rain, however, is refreshing, and promises to wash away the fear that swells in my chest whenever I think of Steve, and his big game hunter cronies who convinced me to tag along on this excursion of pain. It would have been fine if it weren’t for my inconvenient tendency toward clumsiness—and that very steep hillside peppered with boulders the size of Cleveland.

“Stay here, we’ll get help.” Sure, sure, famous last words, and the last words out of Steve’s mouth before he and his fellow gamesmen took off in search of the main path, and what passes as civilization out here in the middle of nowhere.

What’s a girl from Chicago doing in the middle of India in a forest downpour? Freezing, that’s what. The very thought of making camp out of nothing is not my general idea of a good time under the best of circumstances. With an 'it's probably broken' thanks for the astute observation, Steve, arm it’s not even my idea of possible. The boys generously left me the jeep for a bed. Like they had a choice after it steadfastly refused to even attempt a start. Turn the key, nothing. Not even a cough. To top it off, it has more holes than a pastry strainer, the only thing passable as a bed in it is the backseat, and it’s a waterbed.

I have a pocketknife. The trees are the size of an elephant’s leg, and I have a pocketknife. Should I forget to mention it later, said pocketknife is buried in the trunk of a tree. That’s where it landed after I opened it, found it to be as useful to my pitiful attempts at slicing through a branch as a freshly cooked spaghetti noodle, and then providing a formidable foe upon trying to close the contraption once again. There must be a trick to it known only to a secret society of lumberjacks, or men with sadistic senses of humor, and a desire to make women look stupid. At least I know I have a fair pitching arm, and could probably beat Steve at a game of darts… thinking seriously of using his head as a target if I make it back home.

Steve was also kind enough to leave me a source of refreshment. Two unopened bottles of Root Beer. Now I have nothing against Root Beer, although it’s far from my favorite source of libation, especially under the circumstances when a double shot of Jack would be much better, but I have a real problem with bottles of Root Beer that require a bottle opener… when said bottle opener walked away in the pants pocket of my considerate fiancée.

So I’m sitting here writing to you, Mom, as I pray for a swift return of my beloved who will live to regret this day if I have anything to say about it. I have only one plea, and that’s that you promise not to say I told you so, should I make it out of this mess alive. Or that you remember me should I not make it back, because darkness is falling rapidly, and there are noises in the bush around me that you’re not likely to ever hear in Chicago.

Love,
Me

*****
Solution 2:

Enveloping darkness. It felt good. A drenching rain, a steamy pavement beneath my feet, and a cold, hard piece of metal in my hand—That felt good too.

The rain washed away my remorse. What there was of it. Was I becoming as cold as the night I walked in? If I was, it felt good too.

Someday I think I'll look back and wonder if I was insane that night. Maybe when I sit in my rocking chair and look out over the prairie, if I ever get that cabin, that is. If I could make it back to the apartment without being found, maybe then I could relax. Maybe then I could dream about a cabin on a mountainside, overlooking a valley of tall grass. Maybe then I could dream of peace.

I don't know if that dream will ever come true, or if I'll ever find peace. All I know is, tonight, one of the dreams of my life had died, and that felt good too.

*****

I had fun writing both of these. They are both different in genre style than I usually write, and I can't decide which, but one of those will be the premise for my next WIP (if I ever get out of the never-ending tailspin my current one is in so close to the end).

With this dilemma fresh in my mind, it occurred to me that as writers we are faced with more decisions in one day than most face in a month, or maybe even a lifetime.

Do I kill this character? Does this one find true happiness? Do I use TNR or Courier? Is there enough of a story arc? Character arc? Should I build an ark and forget about writing altogether?

Coffee, or gin?

As writers we are faced with constant crisis’ in the lives of our characters that we must solve, or make worse (*wicked grin*). We live several lifetimes in a year through the pages of our manuscripts. And then watch as they are torn to shreds by editors, agents, and the like.

I haven’t solved my decision dilemma today, but I have figured out one thing—writers are masochists.

This is more complicated than I thought. At least, it is since I can't seem to remember my password, or username even though I have it written down in my book of many passwords. I had to request an email to remind me of my secret society word for this blog this morning, and then receive an email insisting I change it to gain access. Yes, computers are wonderful things. As if we didn't have kids already in our lives to give us gray hair, we had to invent something even more exasperating.

It does make me wonder, however, why exactly folks feel the need to journal their private, inner-most feelings and put it on public display. Hell, this is the sort of thing we used to keep under lock and key, and throw a coniption fit over if someone (usually a brother/sister, or mother) got their grubby hands on. Now, we just tell EVERYONE.

I can understand a business-person, or company using blogs as a form of free advertising. Give the public a little insight, and hope to win their loyalty to a certain product... makes sense.

People with things to sell on a personal level, such as authors, or any number of people with websites they want hit on heavily... I can see the use for this blogging craze.

Even people who wish to 'give something back'. Professionals that have insight into a world that others would give their eye-teeth to figure out, graciously giving of their time, and wisdom. Some with ulterior motives of promoting themselves, or business, but many (Miss Snark for instance) who is curiously annonymous. Still, either way, all helping out in a very delightful way... I understand blogging for that.

But seriously, some of these things are little more than voyeristic explosions on screen. But, fun is fun, and I guess in this electronic age, you take it where you can get it.

Happy blogging folks!

Welcome to my humble blog

I discovered when trying to post a comment to another blog on this system, that I was obligated to create one of my own. So after months of avoiding the possibility of yet one more written creature to care for, I have, it seems, jumped head long into the depths of blogdom.

This could be interesting at that.