Back when I worked full-time in the Banking industry, I used to complain how I never had enough time to write. I’d get up each weekday morning by 4am to get myself ready first, and then get hubby and son up before hitting the road by 5:45am for over an hour’s drive (in 35 miles) into downtown Raleigh. I’d work 7am till 6pm (most days). By the time dinner and homework are done, it’s easily 9pm and by that point, I’m ready to crawl in bed. Weekends were usually reserved for catch-ups, house chores, and errands. I’d managed maybe an hour of writing time each week.
With being “retired’ from the work force (am only 46) due to disabilities, I have loads of free time on my hands. I’ve discovered, though, I waste a lot of time doing pretty much “nothing.”
Nothingbeing spending way too much time on social media, and watching internet-stream tv shows and movies. Well, these were what I was doing for the past year and a half before depression hit me hard.
Or, perhaps mid-life crisis?
I found myself looking back, and wondering what did I have to show for being here on this world? I really didn’t find a career I enjoyed (long story) so ended up in the Banking industry for the last 15 years of my working life basically as a glorified paper-shuffler.
Family put aside, I had nothing tangible.
I wanted more. I desired to leave a legacy.
At this point, I’ve published several short stories, essays, and poems; but 99.9% are online magazines.
I now want more.
Something solid, concrete. Something I can hold in my hands. And smell.
This means I need to get serious, and smart with my time management. I figure a way to start doing that is by tracking every word I write.
This means less time with social media and other forms of entertainment.
I value my writing gift, and feel I have at least one book within me, enough so that I need to start valuing my time more than I’ve done in the past.
So, this is where I’m at in my writing life. At a cross-road, and I’ve decided on the path to take. Now, let’s see where it takes me.
Got to love adventures, eh? 🙂
What about you? Where are you at in your writing life? Are you happy with it? If not, what changes could you make?
The four-some now seated in chairs around the large oval oak table as the waiter retrieves the menus.
“I will get your orders in.” And the short black man walks away.
Julie’s brown eyes carefully study the faces around the table as she slowly sips at her wine. “So, Brad,” and turns them solely to the man sitting to her right, “What on earth have you been up to since I last saw you?”
Brad grins as he leans back. “Nothing exciting. Just work.”
“Marketing, huh?” She purses her lips, “For whom?”
“Altvision Communications.” He replies as he bit into a breadstick.
“Wow, one of the four media giants.” Her smile widen as she fingers her glass. “You must be one of the lowly assistants working his way up the career rung by now.”
He chuckles, “Hardly. Try the Director of the Marketing Department.”
“Di-rec-tor…my heavens, that’s a far cry from being a lab rat with Dalton Co-Op.”
“A lab rat?” Eddie’s hazel-green eyes sparkle as he stares at Brad across the table.
Brad lets out a laugh, “That’s Julie’s way of calling any desk clerk who worked for Dalton back in the day.”
“They were directly responsible for polluting all the lakes upstate which cost taxpayers well over a billion dollars.”
“And you don’t feel the least bit guilty for forcing them out of business and driving hundreds of people out of work?” Brad asks, the smile now gone.
“What they were doing was criminal, and it was my job to expose them.” Julie’s eyes now slits.
“Yeah, well, the timing couldn’t have been worse.” Brad grabs another breadstick. “You could have at least waited until after Christmas to break the story.”
“Are you a reporter?” Eddie’s interest now piqued as he focuses on the curly red head between Brad and Laura.
Julie shrugs, “Yeah, a crime beat reporter,” and takes another sip of the red wine.
“You don’t sound very enthused.” He says.
“It’s a job.”
“Don’t let her fool you, Ed.” Brad points a half-eaten breadstick at his friend. “Journalism’s in her blood just like her father, and her grandfather.”
“I see.” Eddie drinks from a bottle of beer. “A generational legacy that you don’t seem to relish much of.”
“It comes natural, and it made sense at the time.” She says.
“Writing comes natural to Julie all right. Did you know she’s also a published author?” Laura smiles at Julie who frowns back.
“Oh, really?” Brad says, “What do you write?”
“Guilty pleasure. Let’s not make a big deal out of it.” Julie replies.
“She writes horror.” Laura answers for her friend.
“A crime beat reporter slash horror writer. Wow, never saw that one coming.” Brad sneers.
“Whatever.” Julie flicks her long hair off her shoulders and turns to face Eddie. “What of you? Let me guess, an international spy?” She asks in a leering tone.
“You’re not too far off the mark.” Eddie replies. “I’m a freelance Threat Analyst.”
“What the heck is that?” Julie’s nose crinkles at him.
“Mainly I hunt the web for any malicious activities, and put a stop to them.”
“That sounds–interesting I suppose.” Julie says.
It was Eddie’s turn to laugh as he drinks more of the beer. “Oh, it can get very interesting.”
“What about you, Laura?” Brad asks.
Laura leans forward as she studies the flickering candle at the table’s center which casts shadows across her fair face. “I’m currently doing my Forensic Pathology Residency at North Peak’s Regional Medical Center.”
“Fascinating. We have a budding doctor with us.” Brad smiles at her.
“You did it.” Eddie says. “You’ve accomplished one of your dreams.” His warm smile causes Laura’s cheeks to color.
“It’s still a work in progress, but yeah, I’m getting there.” She returns his smile.
His expression then grows more somber. “I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch. I never meant to leave like that.”
Laura shrugs, “You had a family emergency that required you to leave the country. Besides, it was for the best. For us, anyway.”
Eddie nods. “You’ve always been so understanding, Laurie. You deserve someone to be equally so.” His accent now more pronounced.
“Oh my, here’s our dinner!” Julie blurts out as the waiter came to their table with a tray full of food. “I’m starving!”
For many years, I had this guilty pleasure of seeing my written words come alive with images and music. Instead of waiting to have someone else produce it in to a short film, I created my own videos using Kizoa 🙂
This particular poem I wrote for a contest (October). It’s meant to be a horror poem, but it is especially horrifying for me as it is taken from my distant past of a person I once was. Long story. Perhaps one day I will be brave enough to write about it in more detail.
If you’d like to participate in YouTube Tuesday, post something from YouTube that you enjoyed and tell us a bit about it. Don’t forget to include the link to this post in yours so I can check it out. Also, if you’re on Twitter, tweet about it using the hashtag #YouTubeTuesday.
I’m looking for one-three (clean) Romance books to read between now and January, and am open for suggestions! I’d prefer it to be an ebook, but will take print versions as well. If you’re an author of such book, please let me know a bit about your book’s premise to help me decide. Whichever book(s) I decide to read, I plan to post a review on this blog by the end of January (if not, sooner).
You can let me know either via the comment section below, or through the Contact form.
Today I’m sitting on 3,374 words which is quite poor IF I was shooting for 50,000. I could be called (sort of) a NaNo Rebel in that I’m marching to my own tune this month. I’m juggling three different writing projects:
Serial fiction, The Hidden Realm: I haven’t started to work on this yet but the plan is to finish the second half of Part One.
Novelette, Untitled: written 2,417 words so far. Genre: suspense/thriller
Interactive story, Untitled: wrote chapter one, A Snowy Reunion, which has posted on this blog earlier in the week. Genre: TBD
Speaking of #3, be sure to read the chapter and vote in the poll included to determine future outcome of the overall story line. The poll closes soon so I can start writing the next chapter so don’t wait any longer! 🙂
What about you? How’s your writing going so far this month?
*Am starting a new story, an interactive kind, which means feedback from readers will determine the direction of the story. Read the first chapter, and then answer the poll. Your input will determine the story’s results! Enjoy 🙂
Fluffy white flakes drift from the sky on to the urban landscape below. Mazes of paved and cemented pathways spread across the city like a grid, nearly all are inhabited by flickering white and red lights. While the heavens fill with solemn hushes, the earth brims with noise and movements among the living and their worldly gadgets and possessions.
On a particular street level, two women walk briskly, huddled deep in their coats and scarves. White mists emanating from their faces as they huffed.
“I can’t believe you talked me into going out tonight!” The shorter woman says.
“Nonsense, Laura.” replies the other. “You work too much. Besides, I haven’t seen these guys in years. I’m curious to see how rich and successful they became.”
“Really, Julie, you’re just too shallow.” Laura scoffs. “There are more to men than sex and money.”
“Don’t forget power.” Julie raises a hand covered in a black leather glove.
“You’re one to talk, dearie.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Laura smirks.
“Okay, how about Scott Mendler?” Red ringlets flickering across her cheeks.
“Him? The Pharmacist? Oh, c’mon! He didn’t know right from left!”
“Oh? Let’s try this one…Frank Aleman.”
“Computer repairman. Too boring.” Laura says.
“Kissed like a girl.”
Julie stops suddenly. “And you know this how?”
“Kidding!” Laura grabs her friend’s arm to prod her along once more. “I still don’t see your point.”
“My point is that you’re just as shallow as I am when it comes to men.” Julie says.
“Are you saying we’re hopeless?”
“Nah, just haven’t found the right ones.”
Laura shakes her head. “I’m starting to believe there’s no right one out there.”
“Perhaps we’ve been looking at the wrong ones.”
“Or perhaps I need to shorten my ‘qualities desired in an ideal mate’ list.” Laura frowns.
Julie suddenly stops. Again.
“Now what?” Laura asks.
Julie glances behind them. “Been having this feeling that someone’s following me all day.”
“Halloween’s long over.” Laura says.
“Yeah.” The red-head turns back around. “Probably just my imagination.”
“Comes with the territory for being a horror writer.” Laura replies.
“Well, that’s not all I do, honey.” She sneers.
“That’s even creepier.”
“Yeah, whatever, speak for yourself.” Julie pulls at her friend’s arm. “There it is. Let’s run…I’m freezing!”
The two women carefully jog across the icy road hopping from one section of tire-tread pattern on the ground to the next to keep from slipping. Once they reach the other side, they stood briefly at the wooden door with “Carroll’s Diner” etched in it.
And pushed it opened to enter inside.
Carroll’s Diner’s rustic interior immediately warmed up the women as they peer into the dining section for familiar faces.
“I think I see Brad at the bar.” Julie says as she immediately heads in that direction with Laura following close behind.
She quietly approaches a dark blonde-haired man and taps him on the shoulder which causes him to stir instantly.
“My god! Isn’t it jolly ol’ Julie!” His hazel eyes twinkling as he pulls her in to his arms for a bear hug.
“Easy there, Brad. You might break some ribs.” She giggles into his musky-smelling neck.
“Sorry, my bad.” And moves her to a more steady position, standing in front of him. He then notices a woman besides her. He blinks a few times before speaking. “Laura Hines?”
Laura smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Brad cocks his head slightly as he takes turns studying both women. “Friends?”
“Hard to believe, Bubba boy, but yep, we’re good friends now.” Julie smiles widely.
He shakes his head slowly and let out a low whistle. “I thought you two hated each other during college.”
“Old history.” Julie replies as she winks over at Laura. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ll drink to that!” He turns and picks up a shot glass and downs it in one gulp.
“Hey! Not so fast!” Julie pouts as she makes herself comfortable on a high stool. “I’ll have what he’s drinking.” She tells the bartender.
“Make that two.” Laura says as she sits on the other side of Julie.
Julie glances around Brad. “I thought there were two of you.”
He nods. “There is. He had a call but should be back any time.”
“Who’s back?” Comes a husky voice rich in accent.
The women both peer around Brad to see a gorgeous man taking his seat at the end of the counter. Golden brown skin. Dark black hair which even partially covers his face, but one could still spy the dimples in his cheeks when he smiles.
This time it would be Laura speaking first.
“Oh. My. God. Eddie?” Her voice rises several decibel.
“Hello, Laura.” His smile held as his deep hazel eyes meet her blue ones. “It’s been a long time.”
She shifts in her stool but never moving her gaze away from his face. “Yes.”
“Hello? Pheromone city!” Julie butts in effectively slicing the momentary connection. “You two know each other?”
Laura’s smile wavers as she fingers her glass that mysteriously appeared seconds earlier. “College.”
“History?” Julie whispers close to her ear.
Laura nods once.
“Well, I’m Julie Yourdon.” In her next move she turns to the dark hair man, and gives him her most alluring smile.
“Eduardo Santa Perez.” He bows his head to her. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” Julie mutters under her breath as she sips her liqueur.
To Trick a Hacker is a Romance Suspense book written by the gifted storyteller India Kells. It follows heroine Dylan Harris a loner who’s hiding within the fringe of society working as a hacker for a secret organization called Purgatory. With a tumultuous and traumatizing past she’s trying to hide from, she finds herself hunted by an unknown assailant who seemingly have ties to her painful past.
In comes Owen Sorenson, a gorgeous former Navy Seal, sent by Purgatory to protect her from further harm which she reluctantly accepts. Each battling scars of various kinds, they at first formed an uneasy team as they set out in search of a killer that soon grows into a passionate and emotional relationship. A relationship which gets tested time and time again threatening to send either one over the edge and into darkness. It’s a romance forged in pain and loneliness as they each face their personal demons from the past which keep returning to haunt them. Sprinkle in a killer bent on turning Dylan to the dark side by threatening all who she cares for and you have a riveting story that will keep you turning the pages till the very end.
To Trick a Hacker ultimately is a story about family, love, second chances, and sacrifices.
India Kells’ writing style can be liken to Sherrilyn Kenyon and Sara Mackenzie, and I definitely look forward to reading many more of her books!
Snow came way early this year in my neck of the woods (as shown above). In fact, here in North Dakota, we went directly from summer to winter. There was NO fall. According to the local weatherman, we’re to get an additional 3-6 inches of the white stuff between today and Sunday.
Originally, I’m a northern-climate gal having been born near the border of Quebec, and grew up in the Adirondacks so I’m no stranger to the cold and snow. However…I spent nearly 15 years in North Carolina before moving up here so my body is still trying to get re-acclimated to the changes.
I’ll get there eventually. 🙂
Whether it’s the sudden changes or getting older (I’ll take the former thank you very much), I’ve been slow getting started with NaNoWriMo this year.
Sitting at 500 words on day 3 kind of slow.
But, at the very least, it’s a start.
I will be working on two writing projects. One’s projected to be about 7,500 words while the other around 10,000 so most likely I won’t win this year. That’s okay just as long as I get the drafts of these two completed by November 30.
The 7,500-word novelette is inspired by the TV show, Deadly Women, I binge watched the past several months. It’ll be a slightly different genre than I’m used to writing, but so far, an enjoyable experience. I plan to post the synopsis later this month. My goal for this story is to hopefully either self-publish it, or place it on Channilo. In the past, majority of the stories I wrote have been horror and/or young-adult with sprinklings of science fiction and fantasy. This particular story is Suspense/Thriller with some Romance.
The second project is a serial fiction I started last year called, The Hidden Realm, which is a fantasy/horror story.
Click on image to start reading it
During this month, I plan to finish writing the second half of Part One. Writing serial fiction is tricky for multiple reasons; one being that it requires long-term commitment to post a new installment in a timely manner until either the story’s completed, or you give up on it. I’ve written several in the past, and gave up on them all mostly because I either got bored with it, or got stuck on the storyline. I hope by writing large blocks of the story in a short time and then posting them in small increments will enable me to actually finish this one.
I will post more on both stories throughout the month of November.
What about you? What are you working on this month?
Click on the image to access this group’s official page
This month’s question: Win or not, do you usually finish your NaNo project? Have any of them gone on to be published?
I’ve participated in NaNo nearly every year since 2008, and I will do so again this year. I won twice, first time in 2008, which was the most complete first (and only) draft I’ve written. It’s an apocalypse-science fiction story I titled Hope Falls. It’s to be the first book in a series. I believe it has promise only that…
It’s still sitting on my hard drive (have a binder with printed pages as well–somewhere).
I love to see it published.
Why haven’t I done it yet? I mean, it’s only been NINE years.
Honestly, the editing/revision part scares the crap out of me.
Shorter works I can handle. Just not sure how I’d handle a book-length editing process.
I feel like a wuss.
And I’m worried. Really worried. If I’m this frighten over one manuscript why would it be any different with another?
Am I a lost cause? Can I break this rut I’m in?
I’m a published writer in that I have short fiction and poetry published in multiple zines (both online and print). My next goal is to be a published author.
*Note: This story’s inspired by the very first short story I ever wrote decades ago.
Penny, the new kid on the block, stood in front of an old, rickety house along with two new-found friends.
She swallowed hard as she stepped up to the front door.
“Don’t be a scaredy cat and go in!” Darla called out.
Inside the dank-smelling entryway, cobwebs littered every nook and cranny. Dark and not a living soul present as the young girl walked down a hallway.
A movement on her right caused Penny to pause.
On the long, narrow table sat a huge glass platter with a steel cover.
The cover rattled ever so slightly.
She slowly reached for the metallic lid, and lifted it.
The first thing she saw was the wrinkled balding head, and in a great start, she released her grasp on the heavy top which landed on the hard floor with a thunderous clang that echoed throughout the building.
Her brown eyes widened as she stared at what sat on the glass dish.
A head of an elderly man who appeared to be asleep. His skin pallor and sunken except for one eye where folds of flesh drooped.
The sight had her rooted to the spot as she held her breath fearing that any noise would awaken him.
Suddenly, his eyes sprung opened. Black as coals they completely mesmerized Penny…
Until the mouth opened and an evil cackle bellowed from it.
She turned and ran screaming out of the house, and didn’t stop screaming until she reached her friends down on the curbs.
What dismayed her further was that they were laughing.
“It’s not funny!” She said.
Darla, the brunette, giggled through her hands but it was the blondie who spoke.
“If only you could have seen your face!” Roxie said as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
Penny glared at them. “You knew about this?”
“Oh yeah.” Darla finally replied. “Old man Marco’s been doing this every year for years.”
The red-head folded her arms at her two so-called friends. “And where does he usually pull this prank?”
“In the kitchen. On the table with the red cloth.” Roxie answered.
“Well, his head was on a platter in the hallway between the kitchen and living room.” Penny stated. “And it did NOT have ANY table cloth.”
Roxie and Darla looked at her.
“Go on.” Penny pointed to the house. “Go check on the old man!”
Clasping each other’s hand, the two girls walked across the front yard, and through the door way disappearing into the murkiness.
Penny continued to stand with her arms folded, and waited.
Moments passed before screeching screams sounded through the house, and the pale-faced girls galloped outside, nearly colliding with Penny.
Unmoved, Penny asked, “Well?”
“Th-that wasn’t Marco!” Darla said. “And-and there was no body under the table!”
“But the head is real, right?” Penny asked.
Both girls nodded in earnest.
All pairs of eyes turned to the house just as the front door creaked shut.
She'd been locked in the house for monthsas the undead raged outsideFamished and dehydratedshe stared out the bedroom windowand spied the pair againFor days, these cats roamed outon the limbs of the enormous hardwood treeas she wondered how they're surviving the apocalypseToday, she decided to find out and proceededto climb out the second floor slim windowpane As she dangled on the limb, she glanced belowThere her momma stood, gaping up to her daughtermouth opened and gnawing as if ravenous withflesh-thirsting hungerShe scrambled up on the branch and glanced towards the tree's coreA small hollowed hole revealed the bloody mass of flesh and boneand it was then she realized what a grave mistake she'd made
Over at my other site, Only the Lonely Press, I started a new video series called, Dead Poets Society, where I will take a poem of a given poet (long since passed on) and create a video for it. This one above is one of my favorite Robert Frost’s poems.
Below is a bit of a morbid poem written by Emily Dickinson which I absolutely love.
I plan to create more videos for this particular series in the near future.
Do you have any (short) poems by your favorite poets to suggest? If I like it (a lot), I may just create a video for it!
The other day I posted a poll (both here and on Twitter) asking which part of the writing process was the most difficult.
Here are the results.
Writing the story 21%
Coming up w/ idea 7%
Coming up w/ idea 11%
Writing the story 11%
Overwhelmingly, marketing seems to be the most difficult for writers. The reasons? There could be many.
One could be that the writer is an introvert, and finds the social media intimidating. And speaking of social media, there are thousands and thousands of writers and authors on them trying to get their books and stories out in the world. With all that noise, how does one writer or author find a way to stand out and be noticed?
What’s even more frustrating is that it doesn’t matter if you’re traditional or self-published, you’re still expected to do most of the marketing.
According to these results, coming up with a story idea doesn’t seems to be that big of an issue for most writers. I suppose what could be problematic is choosing whichidea to use. Which one will readers want to read? Which one will I want to write a book-length manuscript, and not get bored half-way through?
For me personally, at this point in my writing career, the editing/revision is the most difficult part. It’s like trying to get a donkey to do something it really doesn’t want to do. Yeah, I can be that kind of a donkey.