Scavenger Hunt

T is for Tickle - as in tickle my funny bone.

I love a book that can make me laugh and few are as funny as chicklit.

I could go all fan girl over Marian Keyes. She can make me laugh so hard I snort coffee through my nose. And that's as she faces serious issues.

I'd love to know which writers make you laugh! 

My own books mix murder, comedy, and a woman, Ellison Russell, who must deal with a meddling mother and times that are-a-changing.

A peek at my latest - Clouds in my Coffee

            The mouse, seemingly tired of running around in circles, ran past the footlights and launched himself into the seats.

            The man with the carving knife followed.

            Louder screams ensued. As did the crash of more tables.

            The stage had become the safest place to be. I stayed where I was.

            A man, perhaps a manager, bellowed, “Vic, stop!”

            If Vic was the man with the knife, he either didn’t hear or chose not to listen. He held his blade poised and ready to chop the poor mouse to bits, or, at the very least, cut off its tail with a carving knife.

            Aunt Sis still sat on a table, her foot in a butter dish, her gaze fixed on the man with the knife as if she’d never seen such a sight in her life.

GRAND PRIZE - Want to win a Kindle Paperwhite + a $100 Amazon gift card? Visit each of the 26 stops on the #ChickLitMay A to Z Scavenger Hunt and collect the alphabet word at each stop (A, B, C, D, etc.), then submit the A-Z list of words via e-mail with the subject line "A to Z Scavenger Hunt Entry." 

Entries will be accepted until Sunday, May 22nd at midnight E.D.T. A winner will be chosen on Monday, May 23rd. Good luck!

The next stop on the Scavenger Hunt (the letter U) is here.

If you'd like to start back at the beginning of the Scavenger Hunt (the letter A), go here. 

Got all the answers? Send them to  traciebanister@gmail.com.

Writing

I have been writing  - but not here.

If, by chance, you're interested in the words I string together, please visit me at www.juliemulhern.com. I do blog with the Stiletto Gang on the second Monday of the month.

And, I've been writing books. The first one, The Deep End, is available for pre-order.

Write. Revise. Repeat.

Recently I attended the RT Convention in Kansas City. It was filled with interesting people, fabulous writers and more books than I could carry. And a button.

The bright yellow button, courtesy of the incredibly funny and charming Cherry Adair, says, "Write. Revise. Repeat."

I've been doing that.

Writing - sometimes a river of words, sometimes a trickle.

Revisions - oh my... did I write that? Did I think it was good? Where's my red pen?

Repetition - an endless circle worthy of Dante.

Of course I've revised before. I took my first draft and polished to a high shine. I removed every crutch word, I rewrote passive into active, I added emotion and I learned how to show not tell.

And now I revise again. This time the revisions are more important and the choices are harder. Do I rewrite the first chapter for the fifth time or start anew? Do I sacrifice lyrical description to move the plot along? Do I torture my characters enough?

If only there was a right way and a wrong way. There isn't.

As long as I'm wishing, I'd like someone to stand at my shoulder (akin to my seventh grade English teacher) and point out what I should be doing.

No right way. No wrong way. And sadly, no Dottie McCord. Just a creative process in which the ultimate decisions are left in my newbie hands.

To the friends who read and tell me my heroine is sounding a bit schizophrenic, the agent who insists my first chapter must dazzle and my dreamy husband who cooks, thank you. The end is in sight.

 

Sunday Night

Tomorrow we return to a regular week - kids in school, Mom and Dad at work, soccer practice, skatifng practice, etc... Five days of routine. Five days of "What's for dinner?" Five days of "Mom, where is my fill-in-the-blank?" Five days of normal.  I can't wait.

Don't get me wrong, I love the holidays. Christmas carols and sparkling lights and anticipation. Christmas trees and packages wrapped in bright paper and a table full of nutcrackers. Cookies and chocolates and our new favorite - single malt scotch caramels. But...

Monday morning... up early to write, kiddos to school, work, what's for dinner?...it all sounds like heaven.

The Merry Widow

And....I'm back.

More than a year since my last post. How is that even possible? Illness, a new job, two children, the ongoing antics of one crazy Weimaraner...take your pick.

In the past year or so I have become oh so fascinated with transitional decades. The Edwardwian Era aka the Gilded Age in particular has caught my attention.

It wasn't Downton Abbey that struck my fancy. Nope, it was the hats. The hats. The hats. The hats.

I love hats. When it comes to historical hats, I love sweeping brims and the swirl of ostrich feathers. I adore double brims softened with tulle. And, of course, I love The Merry Widow - so named for its appearance in the operetta as presented on the English stage. Designed by Lady Lucile Gordon Duff, worn by Lily Elsie, it is the stuff hat dreams are made of.

The Merry Widow hat

NaNoWriMo

Yep. It's here again. National Novel Writing Month - that magical time of year when aspiring authors make personal commitments to write 60,000 words in a month - that averages 2,000 words a day.

Have I committed to same? Yes.

Please note I am writing my much neglected blog instead of creating memorable prose.

Last night, I wrote 1,100 words. Tonight I'm cruising the NaNoWriMo site.

Ah procrastination, thy name is Julie.

Seriously though, my heroine needs to be attacked a zombie - back to work.

The New Me...

I'm trying something. I can't create an many more hours in the day but I think there may be something I can do to impact my energy level. More energy means I'll get more writing done. Fingers crossed on that.

Oh, I also want to fit into an evening gown thats a few pounds too small....My brother-in-law started main-lining antioxidants and lost 25 pounds.

So, I am focusing on eating as many antioxidants as possible. Think berries, artichokes and apples. Also cinammon, cocoa, turmeric and cloves. The kids are not loving the new, healthier me or perhaps it's the dinners. Last night's gnocci with spinach, tomatoes and white beans was not a hit.

So far energy up, weight unchanged and word-count rising.

I'll keep you posted.

The Never-Ending Story

I vaguely remember a movie from my younger days. It was called The Never-Ending Story. One of the characters was something like a dragon. It talked, or maybe it was a telepath... I do remember it wore an Elvis pompadour. The hero was a little boy who loved to read. He was a cute kid. The kind of cute that appeals to adults and gets kids beat up. Somehow, our young hero entered a book and battled to save the world.

It was a kids' movie so, of course, the cute kid prevailed against impossible odds. And just when you thought the movie was over some wise old guy - don't ask me where he came from, I don't remember - explains that the hero's story is still being written. It is never-ending.

I have been writing the never-ending story. True, it contains no dragons with retro hair-dos. Also, there are no wise old guys in it. Instead, it is an article that won't end. Every time I think I have finished, the editor asks another excellent question.

It has kept me from my novel, my blog and an ever-growing pile of laundry.

I just sent off another e-mail with more information. I am not so foolish as to believe the story is finished.

If it ever does end, look for it in November!

Graveminder is Great but I'm Looking for Zombies!

I love to read. There are so many amazing books out there. I wish I had time for them all. Of late, I've been reading histories of New Orleans, a short novel based on the life of Kansas City madam Annie Chambers and, because I was in the mood for southern gothic - Melissa Marr's new novel Graveminder.

If you are unfamiliar with Melissa Marr, you obviously haven't been reading enough YA. Her Wicked Lovely series is loads of faerie fun.

Graveminder is her first stab at adult fiction. I am in awe of her world-building abilities. Her characters live in Claysville - a town that has made a deal with Death. Anyone ever born in Claysville is buried there meaning there are lots of graveyards. It is the graveminder's job to make sure the dead don't rise. Spooky - especially when the grandmotherly graveminder is murdered by a walking corpse and Bek, who lived in happy ignorance of the town's deal with Death must take her place.

Worse, tt's a Stepford kind of place, where people who ask to many questions are struck with memory-wiping migraines. Bek can't get a straight answer from anyone - not the callow mayor, the heart-of-gold bartender, the sherriff or her sometimes boyfriend.

I was hoping for Beautiful Creatures style creepiness and I got in when Bek goes wandering among the dead and meets with Charles aka Death.

This isn't a keep-you -up-at-night wondering if you dead-bolted the backdoor kind of read but is entertaining.

I just want to read about some southern gothic zombies....any ideas?

A Poor Excuse for a Poem but a Great Writing Exercise

My eighth grader came home with a writing assigment. Rather than a boring essay on how she spent her summer vacation, she is to write a poem with 'summer' as the topic.

She has been given a format for this poem. It is supposed to follow a pattern:
I saw...
I heard...
I smelled...
I tasted...
I felt...
I said...
And it was the strangest thing...

If it were me writing, I'd end up with...

I saw the sky fade from lavender to purple to black
I heard the cicadas song
I smelled fresh cut grass and new asphalt
I tasted the ice cream cone melting in my hand
I felt the hint of a breeze move the humid air
I said, "It's getting dark earlier and earlier."
It was the strangest thing, I actually sensed summer's magic around me

My two minute, free-verse poem probably wouldn't garner me an A from the English teacher. That's not the point. I love the assignment because it encourages my daughter to employ all the senses when she describes something and it reminds me to do the same.

A Good Yarn

When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I spent my third trimester on bed rest. The drugs my doctors gave me to stop unwanted contractions made it impossible for me to read. I played countless hands of bridge on a laptop and I learned to knit.

A thoughtful cousin supplied me with a pattern, yarn and needles and she taught me how to cast on, cast off, knit, pearl, count stitches, etc. I made the baby who was causing me such trouble a sweater. Next I tried a pattern with multiple colors and I learned intarsia and how to carry yarn. By the time my oldest daughter arrived, I was hooked.

I quickly discovered the romance of new yarn. The colors, the feel and the possibilities fired my creativity. I bought more than I needed. I created a stash - I've since learned many knitters maintain one.

New yarn proved to be a siren's call. Just when a project seemed dull and never-ending, hand-dyed virgin wool or a clever eyelash skein could tempt me to begin something new.

And then there's the finishing. I  find "finishing" a knitting project - sewing seams, weaving threads, blocking, etc... to be completely uninteresting. New yarn could always lure me away from finishing.

So, here I sit with a skein of new ideas and research. The new ideas seem so much brighter and more colorful than the writing projects that need finishing. The new ideas are begging to be written. Who am I to argue? After all, I finished all those sweaters - eventually.

The Dog Days of Summer

Apparently, the dog star can be seen during the hottest days of summer - thus, the expression. Who knew? I always thought the dog days of summer were about August waning into September and the promise of cooler weather.

My children return to school next Tuesay. Part of me is doing a discreet happy dance. Part of me is wondering why anyone goes back to school before Labor Day. I never did. Not once. Ergo, that is the way things should be done.

I have BIG plans for my writing life as soon as we are back on a schedule.

My best intentions melted like a popsicle in July's heat. By the time August rolled around they were a puddle on the pavement.

My to do list is long and August hasn't helped me at all. Keeping my fingers crossed that those waning days will be my friend.

A Writer's Life

My vision of a writer's life includes sending my children off to school, walking the crazy Weim and settling down in front of a computer for four or five hours. The phone doesn't ring, the laundry does itself and a quick trip to the grocery yields ingredients for a delicious, nutricious dinner everyone will like.

The reality - I work at a job I love and come home to a house destroyed by two ten-year olds' attempts at making and icing cookies. I do loads of laundry, run the dishwasher, sweep up random pieces of duct tape (the kiddos are also fashioning bracelets), wipe down counters, chisel dried icing of the breakfast room table and try to figure out what's for dinner. And still, it's there. The itch...the need to write about air so warm and heavy it feels like flannel.

So - tonight the writing life will include a dinner sure to engender complaints - chicken again? A load or two of laundry, dishes and at least an hour or two of key tapping.

Judging a Book by its Cover

I didn’t major in English in college. I majored in French. And no, it wasn’t four years of conjugating irregular verbs. After learning to speak the language, we read its literature and poetry.

While my English major friends were reading Dickens and Shakespeare, I read Hugo, Flaubert, Balzac, Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Zola, Stendahl, etc…

When I wasn’t reading for class, I read literary fiction. None of that genre stuff for me.

Fast forward twenty years and I admit I love genres. Give me a romance, a paranormal, or a steampunk.

Call me shallow, but I don’t want to read about angst-ridden dysfunctional families. Sorry John Irving, John Updike and Jonathan Franzen, but I want something to actually happen that culminates in a happy ending.

What I don’t want is a witness. Call it pretentious. Call it foolish. Call it what you want. The thought of being seen with Angelina’s Savage Secret (two points if you can name the movie that engendered that title) fills me with shame.

My Nook has solved that problem. For all anyone knows, I’m reading Until I Find You (which I really liked), Rabbit is Rich or The Corrections.

And, I’m not the only one. Romance has seen a marked increase in sales since the advent of e-readers (different websites give different percentages – I like 27%). I bet the same it true of paranormals. And, I’m pretty sure I’m not the only adult reading YA on my Nook.

I read A LOT and I skipped whole genres for decades based on lurid covers.

The next the publishing industry decides to saddle a well-written novel with a half-dressed woman clasped to a glistening chest, they might think about me. ‘Cause if it’s too lurid, I don’t even want it on my Nook.

MG v. YA

It has been suggested by some very smart people that my YA (young adult) novel should be rewritten for middle graders (MG). After the general sense of nausea and desire to burst into tears wore off, I had to agree they had a point.

So, I've been trolling the internet looking for the difference between MG and YA.

I stumbled across this incredibly helpful article.

Eric over at Pimp My Novel also has an interesting post. Including this sage advice:

MG protagonists are usually in the age range of 8 - 12. YA protagonists are usually 12 or older.
• The word count for MG is around 20,000 - 40,000, whereas it's 50,000 - 75,000 for YA (as Jessica Faust notes here, these numbers are a little fuzzy, so take this with a grain of salt).
• MG plots tend to center on the protagonist's internal world, whereas YA plots are more complex and are more concerned with the protagonist's effect on his or her external world.
• MG is chiefly read by late elementary/middle school students; YA is chiefly read by high school students and up.

Basically, the MG/YA question boils down to Ramona Quimby vs. Bella Swan (shudder). Which is your protagonist?

My apologies to any Twilight fans out there - but really, he's right. I knew I was doing something right as a mother when my teenage daughter put down New Moon and told me she couldn't read a book where a girl gets that depressed over a boy (vampire). Booya!

I loved this post over at YA Highway for its valuable information and hint of snark.

And finally, this engaging post over at Upstart Crow Literary details a variety of differences...

• Middle grade novels tend to be shorter. (Though not always—the huge and intimidating Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is middle grade, while Angela Johnson’s brief-as-a-vivid-dream The First Part Last is quite clearly teen.)

• Middle grade novels tend to have main characters who are the age of—or slightly older than—the target reader. (Though this, too, isn’t hard and fast: The girls in The Witch Family are younger than the reader who can fully appreciate the story, and even characters such as Mr. Putter or Frog and Toad are for all intents middle-aged.)

• Middle grade novels tend to be more outwardly focused: Their plot of events, of things happening to the character, is more important over the course of the book than what happens within the character. (Though that matters very much to the climax of the book, when the outward events trigger an inner change.)

• Middle grade novels tend to have a simpler vocabulary and a simpler sentence structure.

• Middle grade novels tend to have a single inciting element—the thing that sets the comfortable, given world a-kilter.

Right now, the difference between MG and YA is hours upon hours of revising. Wish me luck.

Dead Until Dark

In my spare moments, I've been re-reading Charlaine Harris' southern vampire mysteries.

Please visit my review of the first novel at My Vamp Fiction.

Just by-the-by, writing a decent book review ain't easy. It is hard to describe a plot without spoilers. It's difficult to describe how a character develops without giving away the ending. Although, I assume the whole world is watching True Blood and knows what happens in the first novel. If you haven't tuned in, do.

Not My Nightmare

I know it's a cliche - the dream where the assignment or report is due and the dreamer hasn't started it. For the record, I've never had that dream. My nightmares tend towards black storm clouds and watching the twisting finger of a tornado descend from the sky. Somehow I'm always standing in the middle of a wheat field with no shelter in sight.

At any rate - back to the missing assignment.

I got an e-mail yesterday from a magazine editor asking if my article would be ready by Friday. What? What article? Not one I pitched, one they'd been kind enough to assign to me. Only problem - I never got the assignment.

So, the novel's word count will suffer for another few days while I pen an article. At least with the article, I'm getting paid to write.

Is it cheating?

I have a new idea perking. It keeps me awake at night.

And yet, I feel like I'm stepping out on my other projects. I know they won't actually be jealous. But still - I owe it to Tinsley to get her on the Aquitania on her way to Paris in the 20s. And then there's the YA book that needs to be rewritten as MG - Betsi needs an attitiude adjustment.

Tinsley, Betsi and Eden (the YA witch) looked over my shoulder today as I tried to outline a first few chapters of something new. "Who is this Estella character?" they asked. "She does what?" Betsi demanded.

"June is over," I assured them. "In July, I'll  find time for all of you."

"And Estella too?" They sure sounded jealous.

"Well... I'll make time for Estella's outline." After all, I am trying to plot not pants.

"I need a rewrite," says Eden.

"Me too," says Betsi.

"Ha!" Tinsley snorts. "At least she finished you, I've been at a party in Sands Point since May."

Tonight, I'll go to sleep thinking about Estella. Tomorrow, Betsi, Eden and Tinsley take over.

Plotter or Pantser?

I have read that there are two kinds of writers.

There are those who carefully plan their novels. They are plotters (not to be mistake with plodders). They outline plots, sub-plots, character development, arcs and exactly what will happen in each chapter.

Then, there are pantsers (think fly by the seat of your pants - which is pretty ironic - writers describing themselves with a cliche and all). Pantsers have a general idea where they want to go but they make up the details along the way.

Guess which one I am. Not just in my writing but in my life.

I have an idea for a novel. I think it's a pretty good idea. It's an idea that needs to sit on the back-burner for a few months while the word count for a Roaring Scandal grows and Prairie Gothic moves from YA to MG. While it simmers, I just might write an outline.

Ding Dong the Witch is Dead

I'm from Kansas City. That means several things. It means I look to the west for weather. It means I've spent my life explaining that KANSAS City is actually in Missouri (apologies to my friends from KCK). And, it means The Wizard of Oz was required viewing (yes, I've read it too).

Today I feel a bit like the Munchkins. Ding Dong June is dead. That too long month is dead. Wake-up Sleepy Head. Rub your eyes, Get out of bed. NOT that I spent much time in bed. June was a marathon of kids activities, volunteer commitments, driving here, there and everywhere and the paying job.

July slows down. July takes its time.

July will add to the word count.

July is a gift - a breather - before I need to get kids ready to go back to school.

July is hot. I hate hot. I don't care. I love July.

Look for the word count to rise!

And maybe, somewhere over the rainbow, the book will be finished. After all, that's where dreams come true.