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WIP Wednesday

"Paranormal romance: is a sub-genre of the romance novel. A type of speculative fiction, paranormal romance focuses on romance and includes elements beyond the range of scientific explanation, blending together themes from the genres of traditional fantasy, science fiction, or horror... " ---Wikipedia

I think I may have found my genre? I was chatting with some of the nice folks over on Blogger ( http://salvagedbeautybynm.blogspot.com/ ) and was pointed this direction.

We shall see.

WIP Wednesday: A happy rehash of info.

Today’s WIP Wednesday is a bit of a retread from my Focus on Fiction meeting this last Sunday. First, I have three lovely, informational and creativity inspiring links for you to peruse.

NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writers Month web page http://www.nanowrimo.org/ . You do not have to wait till November’s write a novel in 30 days spree to enjoy this page or group. The folks from the Office of Letters and Light also offer other adventures and writing info throughout the year. It’s a fairly positive bunch over there so check them out.

Absolute Write http://www.absolutewrite.com is a great spot to ask questions about writing and the writing biz and to pick up some good resources.

And Artists of the Rust Belt http://youngstownart.ning.com/ is a local group of showing artists out my neck of the woods. A group to which I am now a member.

And as with each of my FoF meetings, I do a take home writing assignment. I used mine to edit the prologue to my WIP Ghost Mountanin. I was to pick from a list of people, places, situations, etc. and write up a short bit. I chose…

~ a homeless child and his Uncle. (But something ‘alien’ has been mentioned)
~ near a National Forest.
~ after a fight and late at night.
~ an important decision needs to be made, someone has been lost and found, someone feels like giving up.

FoF 5-23-10 Another Kind of Home (Ghost Mountain)/N.Murray

He counted stars when he was afraid. Sometimes to twenty. Sometimes more. 81-82-83-84... Some nights he’d lose count when sleep finally took him whichever place he’d escaped to, away from one of his Dad’s ‘bad days’. The back porch roof just under the upstairs hall window when it was cold or out in the fields when it was warm enough not to frost.

But tonight-tonight he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hide from what had been done. And he was way past counting stars because the hurt and hate in him had become too much for him to let the fear go. All of thirteen and he was just too tired of staying. Besides, after tonight he had no home to stay.


The young man jerked his head away from the stars and sat rigid, like ice water had been tossed down his spine. He’d been found, just not by the man he feared.

“I had a thought you might be here. Sissy let me know what happened.” The old man was casual, if discussing the weather. That had always been Willis Paxton’s way.

The boy finally turned and was met by eyes much like his own, big and black, staring at him from the far edge of the empty bus terminal. He didn’t answer, only stared.

The old man, a cowboy once—a lot of things once, continued to watch the silent boy. He inventoried the cut above the child’s dark brow and purpling shiner. The way he had favored his left arm when he’d jerked around to look, but made no indication of the obvious injury. And then the boys eyes.... That thousand yard stare this boy—his nephew, now wore sent a chill down his old arthritic spine. Old Willis could have swore he saw a ghost tonight.

Silvery brows drew further down, while the brim of a well worn Stetson became further mangled in the old man’s grip. God help him, Willis Paxton never thought he could hate this boy’s father—his own brother, more than he did tonight.

So carefully—cautiously like he was coming up on a cornered and injured animal, Old Willis stepped forward and sat on the bench behind the boy.

“So you’re going to Garretson.” It wasn’t a question. Wouldn’t have gotten an answer if it was. “Ya know Garretson isn’t much a place to look at. And it don’t have or our National Forest or our mountain” Old Willis nodded to the quiet sentry below the stars and above Mercy Corners skyline. “I’ve told ya about our mountain haven’t I?”

He had and he was going to do it again. The clever old man knew not to handle embers till they could be cooled. He just hoped what was burnt up in his nephew cooled down enough with what he was about to offer the boy, before the bus pulled into the station. And whatever his ill tempered and abusive brother had burnt out of this child could be rebuilt.

Belated WIP Wednesday...SORRY!

"There is no royal path to good writing; and such paths as do exist do not lead through neat critical gardens, various as they are, but through the jungles of self, the world, and craft."

~Jessamyn West, Saturday Review, 21 September 1957

I have my machete out right now and I'm starting to see the path. I hope to see roses some day.

WIP Wednesday: Start of Chap. 1?

The first chapter. You go back to it over and over. You tweek it, change it and then rearrange it once more. You are told and understand its importance, this first contact with the reader. You want it to work, to be good-real good. It has to be because it is the beginning of your story and you want the reader to believe in it as much as you do. So you place all that angst and stress into writing that first chapter, that first page, that first paragraph.

This is the first draft of my first paragraph in my first chapter. Of course I will have the prologue, but this will be my storys beginning. And this will not be the first time I tweek, change or rearrange it...

Chapter 1
Just Howling at the Moon

It was that feeling again. Like having your hand palm down on a railroad track, feeling-knowing the train was on its way. Only it was his entire being that felt the low rumble and he could bet his star that the ‘something’ coming was just a bend turn away.
There are a few things I’ve learned while watching ‘LOST’ the TV series—things I can only hope my fiction can achieve.

First, I want my characters so real-so dimensional to the reader that the characters actions are almost—but not quite—predictable. Like a friend they have known for so long. And even when the action of the character is a surprise, it is still believable. NO SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF with character actions!

Second, I want my characters to be capable of both good and evil, just like the living and breathing. This yin and yang not only makes the world go around, it makes us entertaining as hell. Flawed, funny, beautiful, broken, brave or cowardly it is in all of us. When all is said and done, it is all about our choices.

And in the end, after wowing the reader with great and believable characters, story twists and turns, suspense, action, humor and angst I want heart be what the reader takes with them.

At present I can’t clearly define what allows one story to have ‘heart’ and another story to thud along numb and cold. Maybe its people making mistakes and letting the reader see it all in every painful detail. That goes for the victories too. Or maybe seeing a character have regrets and irrevocable flaws, but still strive to do better. Maybe it’s seeing a character through not only the traumatic or triumphant acts, but the odd little day to days. I DO know that how others treat one another factors into a story having a heart beat. Having human beings making human connections with one another and laughing and suffering through it all at the same time. Maybe it’s the gifts we give ourselves and others—not the tangible, but the lovely intangibles. The giving and taking of trust and forgiveness and of course love.

I saw these things while watching Lost, but I have been lucky enough to see a few of these things in life. I can only hope to trap some of these story points and lovely intangibles in my own work.

WIP Wednesday: In the Process Prt.2 ...

Two weeks ago I was messing around with a Prologue for Ghost Mountain. Something that sets a tone, a personal moment for my MC, but gives a bit of cryptic bread crumb to be better understood later on in the story. After going onto other scenes for a little while I came back and did a second rough draft. Of course I will not call it structurally or gramatically sound, but I have edited some unneeded bits, added other details and have found a bit of direction. Also keep in mind I may scrap the whole scene or place it in pieces somewhere else in my story, but that is the way when writing a WIP.

Take a peek at the first if you're so inclined and then the second try so far...

(NOTE: The stuff in (( )) are sentences I have already marked to be changed on my Word document using the 'Insert Comment' tool.

(Prologue/Ghost Mt.--1st rough draft)Collapse )

(Prologue/Ghost Mt.--2nd rough draft)Collapse )

WIP Wednesday: 3 R this...

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

I believe this a good practice in my life, my Etsy shop ( http://www.etsy.com/shop/SalvagedBeautybyNM ), and most definitely in my writing. Another mans junk can be another mans treasure and reusing found items or thoughts to make something new is just a part of the creative process and of life. Fitting that I should find my inspiration for this weeks WIP Wednesday on Etsy's Blog 'Etsy Success' who found the inspiration for their article on Remarkablogger.com (a buisness blog).

"The most important question you need to stop asking yourself is this: What is the real secret to ? What is the real secret to X drains you. It robs you of your confidence. It allows for hesitation to creep into your actions."

Recyle this. Take what you want out of it and Reuse in your endeavor--whatever it may be. Let a little reused knowledge Reduce your creative angst.

WIP Wednesday: In the Process...

Yesterday, I was contemplating a Prologue for Ghost Mountain. Something that sets a tone, a personal moment for my MC, but gives a bit of cryptic bread crumb to be better understood later on in the story. Yesterday I wrote the below, unedited but will be today. It's my MC Wyatt Paxton as a child, at a pivotal moment in his life. Wyatt is an adult now and I was thinking the prologue is him dreaming. He wakes halfway through the memory, disturbed by something unsettling in the house(already decided on that unsettling thing), reacts to that stimuli and then in the first chapter, after the opening action(already written) he finishes the dream as a memory while he watches the stars. It IS a WIP. My Process is to toss ideas and speed type crap out while quickly changing it around as I go. This is what I will be starting out with today and working on...

(NOTE: The stuff in (( )) are sentences I have already marked to be changed on my Word document using the 'Insert Comment' tool.

When Dreams Tell Us. (Prologue/Ghost Mt.)Collapse )

Any useful critique or comment is useful. It's how a WIP improves and grows.

Salvaged Beauty on Etsy's Treasury!

One of my earings made it to Etsy's Treasury list! Take a peek and find many other wonderful upcylced and recycled items!



Nicole Murray

National Novel Writing Month

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