The Beta Club: Remembering You (Romance) - Come Critique!

 

*Sorry couldn't resist using this picture.  You'll understand after reading the excerpt*


It's Beta Club Thursday!  On today's agenda: Contemporary Romance.  My personal favorite.

 

I hope that you will take the time to read through the excerpt and provide the author with feedback.  I've noticed on my stats that Beta club days are getting a lot of hits, but not so many comments.  Some people have expressed that they are a bit reluctant to give feedback or feel they have nothing to add.  Don't be scared!   The authors are posting here because they want to know what people think.  Also, everyone has something to add, even if it's "really enjoyed this."  When you're putting yourself out there, even those little comments help. :)

Plus, my critique is just one opinion.  I don't want anyone to feel like if they disagree with my crit that they shouldn't feel comfortable saying so.  If you think I'm off base on something, share that.  The author needs to hear all the perspectives.

Okay, *steps off soapbox*, with that being said, I do want to thank everyone who stops by and participates.  Now on to the excerpt...

For newbies:  If you haven't been here on beta club day yet, don't be afraid to jump in with your comments.  All feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive.  And if anyone has an itch to be critiqued, the rules for submitting to the Beta Club are under the "Free Critiques" heading at the top of the page.

Alright, please read through the author's excerpt, then provide your feedback in the comments.  My detailed critique is below.
 
Author: Anne Gallagher (go visit her at Piedmont Writer)
Title: Remembering You
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Excerpt:
 
 
 

     
**The author requested that her excerpt be removed.  If you'd like to see other Beta Club critiques instead, please click here.**

Below is my critique, click on FULL SCREEN, then once the document opens, RIGHT CLICK to zoom so you can see the comments. 
 
 



*removed*

Alright, so what do you think?  Are you hooked?  What did the author do well?  What things could be improved?  Thanks ahead of time for offering your feedback!





*Today's Theme Song (Author's Choice)*
"I've Got You Under My Skin" - Frank Sinatra
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)


 

The Beta Club: Annual (Literary Fiction) - Come Critique!

 



It's Beta Club time again!  Today we tackle literary fiction.  This genre is admittedly not my specialty, so I'm counting on you guys to give great input for the writer.  Also, you'll notice I'm now putting in a new section for the featured author.  I'm going to list when the author is seeking beta readers/crit partners for the work and will provide their email address link.  If you read an excerpt and are interested in being a beta reader for the person, please email them directly from the link to let them know.


For newbies:  If you haven't been here on beta club day yet, don't be afraid to jump in with your comments.  All feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive.  And if anyone has an itch to be critiqued, the rules for submitting to the Beta Club are under the "Free Critiques" heading at the top of the page.

 

Alright, please read through the author's excerpt, then provide your feedback in the comments.  My detailed critique is below.
 
Author: Katie Loud (go check out her site)
Title: Annual
Genre: Literary Fiction

Excerpt:

Christian McKenzie was sixteen years old the last time he used a time clock to punch out of work.
            His sneakers left green smudges on the cement floor of the main storage building at Peter Neal Landscaping as he walked toward the back office to turn in his timecard.  He tapped the buff-colored rectangle measuring out a forty-hour workweek against his khaki shorts in the innate way that musicians do.  Christian was surprised to see Pete Neal himself, owner of the landscaping business that had employed him for two summers now, sitting behind the desk in his tiny office. 
            “Why you still here?” Pete asked, standing and hitching up his fatigue pants.  Although his pants were always falling down, his t-shirts were never without oval sweat stains at the armpits, and his few remaining teeth were gray and rotting, Christian liked him.  Pete had always been fair.
            “I wanted to finish that stone wall for you, sir.  It’s my last day.”
            Pete nodded.  “Yeah, Pentinicci already reminded me.”
            “He still here?”
            “Hell, no.  He was gone soon’s his eight hours was up.”  Pete grumbled a bit more before saying what he’d been leading up to.  “I told him job’s here for him next summer, same as I’m saying to you.”
            “Thank you, Mr. Neal.  I’ll be needing a job next summer between graduation and college, and you’ve been good to me.”
            “You’re a good worker, McKenzie.”  Pete held out a calloused hand, and Christian shook it gratefully. 
            “I’ll, uh, see you around, I’m sure.”  Christian was uncomfortable.  Pete’s company did the extensive landscaping at his parents’ mansion, a fact that both of them were a little embarrassed about and which neither of them mentioned.  “And I will be back next year, sir.”
            But he wasn’t.  The trajectory of his life changed forever that evening when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant.

                                                                        2.
            Christian checked the time as he walked to his red Saab convertible.  He wouldn’t be able to go home and shower before soccer practice, and that bothered him a bit.  Most of his teammates found it absolutely hysterical that Christian and to a slightly lesser degree his best friend Roy Pentinicci labored in the hot sun for forty hours a week all summer.  Although their teasing on the rare days he showed up with green ankles didn’t really bother Christian, the sense of bewilderment in their eyes did. 
            His father was one of the wealthiest men in the country.  There wasn’t a reason in the world for him to slave away mowing lawns, weeding gardens, erecting stone walls, accompanying balding, sweaty men with bad grammar.
            But then, Christian had always been something of an enigma to his peers, a fact that bothered him not in the least.  They wondered where his drive to excel came from, of course, why he worked his ass off to earn straight As at the prestigious Stephens Academy, what made him attend intensive extra baseball practices when he was already one of the best high school pitchers in the northeast.  It seemed unfair, of course, that Brian McKenzie’s son should be brilliant, talented in numerous areas, and model-handsome, but Christian was just too likable a guy to hold it against him.
            So people asked Roy, who was not quite as likable and not technically a McKenzie, why on earth the two of them worked for a landscaper instead of just pushing paper at one of Mr. McKenzie’s many offices.  Roy had been taken in by Brian and Belinda McKenzie when his famously dysfunctional family imploded in the fall of his freshman year.  They were his legal guardians, but they were not his parents.  He explained that his Porsche was a strings-attached present for his sixteenth birthday, the strings being that he pay his car insurance with money he earned.  As a three-season athlete and an honors student, this was impossible to accomplish during the school year.  Hence, a summer job was necessary.   That Brian McKenzie had made the same arrangement with his own son (and bought him a far less ostentatious car) when Christian turned sixteen a year later was what confused, almost frustrated people.  What was the point?
Below is my critique, click on FULL SCREEN, then once the document opens, RIGHT CLICK to zoom so you can see the comments.

 



Alright, so what do you think?  Are you hooked?  What did the author do well?  What things could be improved?  Thanks ahead of time for offering your feedback!


*Also Katie is looking for beta readers, so if you are interested in exchanging work with her, email her!


 
 
 
*Today's Theme Song*
"Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" - Good Charlotte
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)



 

Who Wants to Get High (Concept)?*



Go to any writer's conference and you'll hear the following two words ad nauseum: High Concept.  Agents, publishers, your Uncle Bernard--everybody wants your story to be high concept. So what exactly does that mean?

High concept is an intriguing idea that can be stated in a few words and is easily understood by all. --James Bonnet

Okay, great. Sounds easy enough. Movies and tv shows use this all the time. It's just a log line, right? Well, not really. Let's look at a few log lines from today's tvguide.

Swingers--Warmly amusing story about the do's and don'ts of dating, centering on six friends who go looking for love at hip LA hotspots.

Definitely, Maybe--On the eve of his divorce, a jaded Manhattan ad exec tells his ten year old daughter how he met her mother.

*Shrug* Both good movies, but based on those descriptions I could take 'em or leave 'em. They tell you in general what it's about but there's no real intrigue. That's not to say they don't have high concept, but these loglines don't speak to it.

Now let's look at a few examples that are considered "high concept.

Speed--A cocky cop must find a way to save people stranded on a city bus that will
explode if is slows below 55 mph. (source)

Double Jeopardy--When a young wife discovers the husband she’s convicted of murdering isn’t dead, she escapes custody to track him down and kill him. (source)

The Hangover--After a wild bachelor party in Vegas, three friends wake up to find the groom missing, and no one has any memory of the previous night.

Back to the Future--In 1985, Doc Brown invents time travel; in 1955, Marty McFly accidentally prevents his parents from meeting, putting his own existence at stake. (imdb)
Ooh, now I don't know about you, but those grab me. Why? What are the differences between a straight logline and a high concept.


High concept stories have...

1. A unique premise

This doesn't mean you have to do something that's NEVER been done before. Let's face it, that's hard (and like I talked about on Friday, not necessarily desirable). But put a twist on it. In Speed, we've seen bomb/terrorist plotlines before, but wait, let's put it on a bus, oh and let's make sure that the bus can't slow down. In New Moon, we basically have Romeo and Juliet with vampires and werewolves.

2. Universal appeal

If your idea is unique (#1) but so bizarre that no one can relate to the premise, then you've lost your high concept. In Double Jeopardy, being betrayed by a spouse is something most people can connect with. No, maybe not everyone has been betrayed by their husband/wife, but we can imagine what that would be like. And certainly everyone has been betrayed at least once in their life by a friend, family member, etc.

3. Instant emotional connection

If we don't connect emotionally with a story, then what's the point of reading it? In Speed, we can connect with the idea of being an innocent bystander on the bus caught in that life or death situation. Or the cop whose trying to save everyone. In The Hangover, we can imagine the panic we would feel if we woke up and had no memory of the previous night and our friend was missing.

4. Obvious Potential (Can be visualized immediately)

When you hear a high concept pitch, you instantly start imagining what could occur. This doesn't mean a predictable story necessarily, but it gets our mind working. In Twilight, we can imagine what problems might arise when a vampire falls in love with a girl whose blood is absolutely irresistible to him. Clueless goes to Harvard Law (guess the movie). We can imagine the funny antics that will ensue.

5. Only one to three sentences (preferably one)

If you can't cover it in this amount of time, your concept made need a shot of heroin--sorry, I can't resist making lame puns--your concept needs to get high.

A few things to help you create your high concept...
  • Create a compelling character with a desperate desire
  • Give the character a flaw related to their job or situation
  • Have a life-altering, inciting event
  • Insert a quirk of fate or irony

Alright, so I hope that helps. I know that we all want to be able to do that "elevator pitch" if ever given the right opportunity. And we certainly want that one liner in our query that is going to get an agent or publisher excited. I'm terrible at this, so this post is as much for my benefit as everyone else's. I'm bound and determined to have my high concept pitch before I jump into my next novel.

Here are the sources I quoted from, check them out for more info:


If you want to see examples of loglines (some high concept, some not) and taglines (i.e. hooks), go to imdb.com and enter any movie. They offer one line plot summaries and the hook for every movie. It's awesome.

So have you done this? What's your logline or high concept pitch? Do you think your current WIP fits these guidelines? 

*This is a repost from October 9, 2009.  This week I will be re-posting a few of my earlier articles since (1) I'm going out of town at the end of the week and (2) I'm going to try to focus on my WIP for a few days and (3) many new followers haven't seen these articles and I'd love to get fresh opinions.  I will still be responding to comments and will have new Beta Club posts on Tues./Thurs.  Hope you find these recycled posts helpful!*



**Today's Theme Song**
"High Enough" - Damn Yankees
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

Screenwriting Techniques For Novels

This past weekend I attended a workshop given by screenplay consultant Michael Hauge.  At first I was a little skeptical, wondering how movie techniques really related to novels, but I have to say, the workshop was enlightening.

Obviously, I can't cover everything from the all day workshop, but I do want to share some of the big points that I gained from the class.

Openings

First, is the opening.  With our culture now being so immediate gratification oriented, we're told to start our books in the middle of things, right at the point of change.  However, in the article I linked to a while back on The Biggest Bad Advice About Story Openings, this can be a problem.  If we don't care about the character or know anything about them yet, then who gives a flip if in the opening paragraph the MC is being chased by angry monkeys?  In fact, in that case, I may tend to side with the monkeys.

So, according to Mr. Hauge, the answer is simple: do what they do in movies, have a setup.  Here's how he defines the setup stage:

The opening 10% of your screenplay must draw the reader, and the audience, into the initial setting of the story, must reveal the everyday life your hero has been living, and must establish identification with your hero by making her sympathetic, threatened, likable, funny and/or powerful. (source)

This does not mean loads of backstory, this means giving a glimpse of who the person is and what they are like day to day BEFORE the big bad change flips their world on its head.  Think of some of your favorite movies.  Often this setup scene starts as the opening credits are still rolling.  Here are examples from 80s movies I'm sure everyone has seen.

  • Dirty Dancing - she's in the car reading a book (so we guess she's smart), vain sister is looking in a mirror, Baby hugs her dad and we can tell she's a daddy's girl, her family looks happy, we hear that she's going to join the Peace Corps, all in literally the first minute of the movie (although some of it is telling and now showing, mind you).  Here's the clip if your interested.
  • The Breakfast Club - Before we're ever in the detention room, we see most of the kids arriving with their parents, giving us a glimpse into their everyday life.  If you'd like to see how the brilliant John Hughes wrote it, you can view the screenplay here.

So this doesn't have to be pages and pages, but a glimpse gives us a baseline to start from.  Also, don't forget the second part of Michael's quote above, in the setup you MUST help the reader identify with your character through one of those ways he listed.  

In the workshop, he went into each of those ways to create a connection to character.  I can't list all the details, because I'm sure that would be a copyright no-no, so I would suggest buying his book--the information is so worth it (no, he's not paying me to say that, I don't even know the guy.)

Log Lines & Unique Ideas

Another point I learned was about log lines and story ideas.  Wednesday I mentioned that the agents/editors said they wanted familiar ideas with a new twist (so same but different.)  Mr. Hauge reiterated this point.  He said that when you are trying to come up with your pitch, if you can't think of any movies/books that are similar, then your idea is probably not going to sell.

When he first said this, I kind of bristled--like wait, isn't originality the name of the game?  Yes and no.  Ever see a movie or read a book and you're left going--what the hell was THAT?  Most of the time it's because the idea was so off the wall, you couldn't relate to it.  It's not to say that it didn't have some merit, but people (in general) want something that is at least a bit familiar.  And chances are if something is a really good idea, it probably has been done before. 

He used movies as an example, he said that 90% of stories (movies or books) follow the same general structure.  That structure is the crux of his plotting technique.  Click here for a detailed article on his structure. This is the part of the workshop that hopefully is going to change how I think about my stories.  This is the perfect simple outline for me (the avid pantser).  But what this structure shows is that we all know what to expect in a movie even if the plot elements are different--and we like having the comfort of that structure.

Now I'm not going to say that there aren't some out there things that have totally worked.  And maybe you are the person who is going to create a whole new genre or style of writing.  However, the chances of that are slim.  As I like to reference from the movie He's Just Not That Into You--most of us are the rule, not the exception (despite how much we try to convince ourselves otherwise).  So if you're going to do something experimental, just know that it's probably going to be a tougher road ahead.

Log Lines and Word Vomit

Alright, and the last point that really resonated with me from the talk was:  the more words in your pitch/logline the more problems you have with your story.  He said that you should be able to say in 2-3 sentences what your story is about without adding--"well you'd understand this better if you read the book because really there is a lot of other things that are hard to explain and blah blah blah."  He said he can sum up almost every movie out there with one sentence.  

I've referenced this before but IMDB.com lists log lines for movies and can be a great tool to see the straightforward pitch we should be going for.

Here's an example from the movie Knocked Up:

For fun loving party animal Ben Stone, the last thing he ever expected was for his one night stand to show up on his doorstep eight weeks later to tell him she's pregnant. (source)

This log line thing has been an issue for me in the past, so this is something I definitely am going to work on.  So just remind yourself when you start spewing all those words, to dial back and keep it simple.

Alright, I know that's a bit of a mishmash, but I wanted to hit the points that stuck out the most for me.

Can you think of a great setup scene in a movie?  What have you done in your opening to make the reader care about the character?  What do you think of the whole idea of the setup vs. jumping write into the action sentence one?

 

The Beta Club: Karma Kameleon (Chick Lit/Romance) - Come Critique!

 


Today on the Beta Club, we have our first sequel!  Stephanie's first book will be available soon from Lyrical Press.  To find out more info about her and her debut book, go visit her at The Writer's Cocoon.   Now, on to the critique...




For newbies:  If you haven't been here on beta club day yet, don't be afraid to jump in with your comments.  All feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive.  And if anyone has an itch to be critiqued, the rules for submitting to the Beta Club are under the "Free Critiques" heading at the top of the page.

 

Alright, please read through the author's excerpt, then provide your feedback in the comments.  My detailed critique is below.

 
Author: Stephanie Haefner

Title: Karma Kameleon

Genre: Chick Lit/Contemporary Romance



Excerpt:

 


“Rich, I’m pregnant.”


The last time I said those exact
words to him, it led to our breakup and my entrance to a dark and dreary pit of
misery. This time his reaction was much different. Instead of the dumbfounded
confused look he wore last time, a huge grin formed and he kissed me and
laughed and told me how happy he was and how much he loved me.


“This is perfect,” he said as we
lay on our bed. He combed his hand through my hair and found his way to the
edge of my tee shirt, his shirt that I wore as a night gown. He lifted it up
and rubbed his hand across my stomach, then leaned down and kissed it. “Only
one thing would make it better.”


“Yeah? What’s that?”


“You saying ‘yes’. Marry me, Lexi!”


My heart leapt into my throat and I
felt the fluttering in my stomach. I stared at Rich, his adoring eyes staring
back at me. Was this for real? I’d never been proposed to before.


“Really? Are you sure? You don’t
have to marry me just ‘cause you knocked me up!”


“You’re kinda ruining this moment,”
he said with a sly smile and reached into the nightstand drawer next to him. He
presented a black velvet box and popped it open. Inside sat a princess cut
diamond ring and not a small one either. “I’ve been trying to find the perfect
time to ask for weeks now.”


I immediately teared and felt
stupid for doubting his sincerity.


“Will you marry me?” Rich asked
again.


My body shook as I nodded my head.


“Is that a ‘yes’?”


“Yes!” I screamed and leapt onto
him, covering his face with kisses.


“Wait,” he managed between
smooches. “I want to make it official.”


“Didn’t we just do that?”


“Not yet.” Rich pulled away and
plucked the sparkly gem from its box. He slid it onto my left ring finger and I
did exactly what all newly engaged women do. I flexed my wrist and held my arm
straight, admiring my hand and its brilliant adornment.


“Do you like it?” he asked.


“I love it!” I exclaimed and truly
meant it. The square-shaped stone looked flawless, at least a karat, maybe
more. I couldn’t have picked a more perfect setting myself—simple and elegant
platinum, nothing fru-fru about it.


“I know it’s not as big as Abby’s.”


“Uh, there’s no need for it to be.
I’m sure your penis is way bigger than Daniel’s.”


“What?”


“Everybody knows that big fat
diamond rings are to make up for tiny di**s! Trust me—you have no need
what-so-ever to buy me a big diamond!”


I placed my lips back on his and my
hands found their way to his large hardness. Rich slipped his own hand under my
shirt in preparation of removing it from my body. We then heard a thud at the
door and then wailing. Rich and I looked at each other wondering what the heck
happened. I started to get out of bed and heard Marcus’s voice on the other
side of the door.


“Sorry guys. Preston
got away from me.”


“It’s okay. Bring him in!” I
yelled, still hearing my little man’s cries. Marcus pushed the door open slowly
and Preston immediately smiled and reached his
arms out to me.


“He’s getting really fast,” Marcus
said. “I turned around to pick up some toys and he crawled off down the hallway.
I think he crashed head first into your door.”


“Poor baby!” I reached out and
Marcus put my baby in my arms, though I couldn’t really call him a baby
anymore. It had been almost eleven months since his birth and it seemed like he
grew an inch a day. You always hear people go on about how “fast time flies”
but you never realize how true it is until you have a child.


“Should we tell him?” Rich asked as
he gazed into Preston’s eyes. I nodded.


“Guess what, my precious boy! Daddy
Rich is gonna make an honest woman of me! See!” I wiggled my fingers for him.
He pointed at the diamond and giggled. I knew he had no clue what it meant or
how huge it was, but I liked to pretend that he did and that he was happy about
it.






Below is my critique, click on FULL SCREEN, then once the document opens, RIGHT CLICK to zoom so you can see the comments.

Alright, so what do you think?  Are you hooked?  What did the author do well?  What things could be improved?  Thanks ahead of time for offering your feedback!




 


*Today's Theme Song (Author's Choice)**


"Manic Monday" - The Bangles


(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

 

The Scoop from the Agent/Editor Panel

 


This past Saturday I was lucky enough to attend the Texas Two-Step Writer's Conference where Michael Hauge presented a workshop on how to use screenwriting techniques for your novel.  I'll have a little more information on that on Friday, but today I wanted to talk about the agent and editor panel they had at the beginning of the day.

 

These were the members of the panel:

  • Adam Wilson, Associate Editor, MIRA Books and Harlequin Teen
  • Holly Blanck, Assistant Editor, St. Martin's Press
  • Joy Azmitia, Literary Agent, Russell and Volkening
  • Becca Stumpf, Literary Agent, Prospect Agency

First, I do have to say that for those of you who haven't attended a writer's conference, they are one of the best ways to get in front of an actual decision maker and pitch.  I didn't pitch because my romance is category length and most don't represent those.  But, the agents/editors seemed very nice and approachable.  And contrary to popular belief, they are actual people.  Shocking news, I know.  :)

 

But anyway, during the panel I realized I truly do take blogging seriously.  Even when they were talking about things that didn't apply to me, I was taking notes to share with you guys, lol.

So here's what I found out...

  • Harlequin Teen is currently very heavy paranormal, so Adam is looking for contemporaries and historicals to balance their list out.
  • YA Historical is getting hot.
  • Holly is looking for gritty, edgy YA and also for a funny heroine who can support a series (adult or YA)
  • Vamps/Werewolves/Faeries/Angels/etc are still okay, but you must do something different with it (not weremooses one joked).  All of them agreed that they are getting bombarded with Twilight copycats still.
  • If you are writing paranormal/urban fantasy, don't get so involved in world-building that you bog down the story.  They say they've seen a lot of stories that read like a science textbook explaining all the rules and descriptions of the paranormal world.
  • VOICE, VOICE, VOICE - they said that you have to have plot (obviously) but that voice is what elevates the great from the good.
  • They are tired of seeing the guy character that every girl in the book is in love with.
  • Readers want more of the same but NOT copycats.  Michael Hauge reiterated this sentiment for movies.  Readers want something familiar with a different twist.  If your idea is completely out the box and off the wall, they said it can be harder to sell.  But if you're too close to something else like Twilight, readers will call you out on it.  So familiar, but unique.  Easy peasy, right?
  • They also said that your BIG TWIST on the original can't just be something like "oh, my werewolves can make themselves invisible."  Think of Richelle Mead's Vampire Academy series--she has vampires (old idea), and the characters are at special school (done all over the place), there are good vamps and bad vamps (done done done) but the MC is not a vampire, she has a very unique voice, and she is the opposite of the damsel in distress.


So that's the inside scoop.  Anything surprise you?   Make you happy?  Make you groan?  Let me know.
 
 
 
 
 

*Today's Theme Song*
"You Oughta Know" - Alanis Morissette
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

 

The Beta Club: Makin' Love (YA) - Come Critique!

 



Thanks so much for all the well wishes yesterday!  You guys are the bestest!  My partial will officially be sent out today, so please send positive thoughts out into the universe for me.  :)


Now, on to the Beta Club!  


For newbies:  If you haven't been here on beta club day yet, don't be afraid to jump in with your comments.  All feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive.  And if anyone has an itch to be critiqued, the rules for submitting to the Beta Club are under the "Free Critiques" heading at the top of the page.

 

Alright, please read through the author's excerpt, then provide your feedback in the comments.  My detailed critique is below.
Author: Julie Cross (check out her blog)
Title: Makin' Love
Genre: Contemporary YA

Excerpt:
 

I was locked in a room with a perfect guy, just not my perfect guy. Despite the fact that wewere not a scientific match, he was staring at me like he might kiss me anysecond. And not a sloppy first kiss, but a hot, passionate, blood boiling kiss.In the dim light, his brown hair and gorgeous face lit with excitement.
            Even as I reviewed my careful planknowing this wasn’t anywhere in it, my defenses crumbled to bits.
“Annie,” he whispered. “Haven’t you ever done anythingimpulsive?”
            I shook my head fiercely, unable tospeak. He leaned forward and my breath caught in my throat. The tip of his nosegrazed my cheek. 
            “You’re seventeen, everything you doshould be impulsive,” he whispered without lifting his head.
            “Kyle . . .please . . . don’t.”
            He laughed softly. “I’m not eventouching you, Annie.”
            Hewasn’t touching me, but I still felt so . . .
            Kyle lifted his head again and his brown eyessmoldered me.
            “We’re not compatible. I checked thetest myself,” I managed to spit out.
            “Can’t you turn off that big brainof yours for a few minutes? We’re stuck in here aren’t we? Might as will have alittle fun until someone lets us out.”
            I cracked a smile unwillingly and hemust have taken that as an invitation. His mouth pressed firmly to my neck. Iclosed my eyes and a sigh escaped my lips.
            This was just a physical response.Completely chemical.
Just get itout of your system, Annie. You need to focus on your science project.
            “You’re thinking so hard, I canalmost hear you,” he said.
            “I can’t do this. I already wrotethe probable conclusion.”
            His fingertips brushed my cheek. “Iwon’t tell anyone, I swear. You have my word.”
            My heart sped up in my chest. “It’snot like we’re getting married. Just normal adolescent hormones.”
            A slow lopsided grin spread acrosshis face. “Is that a yes?”
            I closed my eyes again and nodded. Iran my hands through his hair, something I’d dreamt about doing for a longtime. “If you don’t make a move in the next five seconds, there’s an eightypercent chance I’ll change my mind.”
            His touched the back of my neck,pulling me closer and every nerve in my body lit on fire. How was this possible? He hadn’t even kissed me.
            “What should I do?” he asked. “Areyou going to interview me?”
            I laughed with my eyes still closed.“Just kiss me, please.”
            He didn’t hesitate and when his lipspressed against mine, my entire insides turned to mush. 
Oh, God thiswas bad, very bad . . . and yet so good. My hands moved to hisface. Then he pulled away and smiled.
            “Is that all you wanted?” Kyleasked.
            I grabbed the front of his shirt andpulled him close again, then wrapped my arms around him. I ran my lips down hisneck, letting the last wall of defense crumble. 
                                                                                                                      
I worked years to perfect every aspect of my life andnine months on a science project I might have completely screwed up, and all Icould think was how much I wanted him. Really wanted him.
            Ifthis was more than physical, my entire project would be invalid. NoHarvard. No Geneva Scholarship. No justification for what a bitch I’ve been toeveryone and anyone getting in my way. None of this was strong enough tosurface while the hot half-British teenager let his tongue dance around in mymouth. 
            His breathing grew heavier and myhands moved over his backside. “Annie, what are you doing?”
            “Everything,”I breathed.                                       
            Then I’ll forget it happened. Prove I’munattached to the incompatible subject.
            I un-tucked the bottom of his shirtand pulled it over his head. My fingers glided over his bare chest. Kyle’s eyesmet mine and he slowly unbuttoned my shirt, not looking away for a second. Hehesitated with the last button then finally let my shirt fall to the floor.
            “Have you done everything before?”he asked, softly touching my back.
            I nodded, letting his bare skinpress against mine.
            “With Trevor?”
            I nodded again feeling his fingerstense up around my arms. He didn’t like Trevor. “Only five times, each onecarefully planned with every precaution used.”
            “Oh, I can imagine the romanceinvolved in those perfectly calculated moments,” he whispered.


Below is my critique, click on FULL SCREEN, then once the document opens, RIGHT CLICK to zoom so you can see the comments.

 

Alright, so what do you think?  Are you hooked?  What did the author do well?  What things could be improved?  Thanks ahead of time for offering your feedback!


 
 
 
 

*Today's Theme Song (Author's Choice)**
"Beast of Burden" - Rolling Stones
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

 

Happy to Be Nominated, but Winning Doesn't Suck!

 

Saturday. Was.  Awesome.

 

I attended the North Texas Two-Step writer's conference, where I learned all kinds of terrific information (more on that this week) and where they announced the results to the Great Expectations contest.

I've been waiting with bated breath for a month to know where I placed.  In the initial round I had ended up second with my scores, but once the finalists are sent to the editor for final judging, then your scores are erased and you start fresh, so you can end up anywhere.  I kept telling myself that I was just happy to final, that the worse that could happen would be honorable mention (4th place) which would still be a victory.  But my perfectionistic/competitive side held out hope for more.

So when Angi Morgan went to the microphone to announce the results, my heart was pounding and I was preparing my I'm-so-happy-no-matter-where-I-placed face.  And of course, my category was the last one read, which was tortuous.  But then Angi called me up to the podium and started reading out the names in my category.  And guess what?

I placed FIRST!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Woo-hoo!   The editor picked Wanderlust as the best in the Series Contemporary Romance category!  She gave me perfect scores on almost every checkpoint AND she requested a partial & synopsis to be sent to the Senior Editor at Harlequin Blaze using her name (the editor of Harlequin Superromance) as a reference.  *wide grin*  There's nothing like having a publishing professional say "hey, you're actually good at this."  So I'm over the moon.

To top it all off, I got a small check for the win, which is officially the first money I've ever made for my writing.

Days like Saturday are ones I need to file away in the memory bank so that when I'm having the I'm a Total Hack Days, I can remember these victories and keep going.

Now, don't miss the rest of this week here at the blog.  Beyond the normal Beta Club days, I'll be sharing some of what I learned at the conference, including info from an agent/editor panel.

 
 
 

*Today's Theme Song**
"Beautiful Day" - U2
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

 

Letting Your Spouse Read Your Writing

 

So I asked about this last night on Twitter.  (If you're not on twitter at midnight, you really miss out on some bizarre interesting conversations.)  But anyway, Tina Lynn, Sierra Godfrey, JmDiaz, and Katie Salidas all chimed in with their opinions on the question of letting your spouse read your manuscripts.  Each had let their S.O. read their stuff, but there were mixed results on how that turned out.

 

For my two completed manuscripts, I allowed my husband to read the finished products.  And here's what I've discovered as the benefits and drawbacks of doing so.

Benefits

1. It's good for your spouse to see what you've been ignoring them over for the last few months.  When they see how much you've done, they'll feel less annoyed that you were obsessed with your laptop.
2. Spouses are good cheerleaders.  
3.  When you talk about your story or characters, they know what the heck you're talking about.


Drawbacks

1.  My hubs is a supportive and loving guy--but he's so much so that this makes him a useless beta reader because he always says he liked it.
2.  If you have an overly opinionated spouse, their negative feedback could cause arguments because you're not afraid of jumping their case whereas you would hold back if your crit partner gave the same kind of harsh feedback.
3.  It can be hard for your significant other to separate your main character from you.  This can be especially troublesome if you write romantic stories or books with love scenes in them.

For me, the biggest drawback has been #3.  After my hubby read Wanderlust, he was a little broody.  My story has love scenes between my MC and a rockstar character who looks nothing like my husband.  So of course, hubs was convinced after reading it that I must secretly want to be married to some tattooed bad boy rocker.  Or that when we go to rock concerts, that I must be picturing the lead singers in various state of undress, which of course is exactly what I'm doing but only in the name of research *cough* ridiculous.

 

Now, once I reminded him that my MC is NOT me, that just because my character hearts the hero, doesn't mean that the guy is MY hero, he seemed to see the light.  In fact, after that discussion, he said he's in a better place about it all and wants to read my next book.

: /  Hrm.

Peek over in the sidebar and check out the genre of my current WIP Exposure Therapy.  Um, yeah.  I'm thinking the hubs might have to wait until this one gets published before he lays eyes on it.

So, what's your opinion?  Do you let your significant other read your work?  Are you cool with your guy/girl reading your love scenes (if you have them)?  If you have let them read your work, has it been a good thing or a not so good thing?
 
 
 


*Today's Theme Song**
"Hey Jealousy" - Gin Blossoms
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)


 

The Beta Club: Embrol (YA Sci-Fi) - Come Critique!

 




Happy Thursday!  Thanks to everyone yesterday who wished me well about sleep yesterday.  Unfortunately, I didn't fall asleep until 1:30 due to writer's insomnia and then the kidlet decided to wake up at 3am for no apparent reason and didn't go back to sleep until 5am, sending me into another bout of racing mind afterwards.  So I'm coming to you today, live and hyped on caffeine.  On a good note, I wrote 2300 words yesterday!  :)


Alright, enough about me, it's time for the Beta Club!  I hope that you guys are still enjoying this feature.  Comments have dropped off a bit over the last few beta days.  I'm not sure if it's because y'all are over the idea or if people aren't commenting because others have already said what they planned to say.  Either way it's fine, I would just like you to let me know in the comments if you want me to continue this bi-weekly feature, if you're still finding it helpful, or if you want me to lose it (the feature, not it in general, although last night around 4am I was particularly close to losing the general "it".)

For newbies:  If you haven't been here on beta club day yet, don't be afraid to jump in with your comments.  All feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive.  And if anyone has an itch to be critiqued, the rules for submitting to the Beta Club are under the "Free Critiques" heading at the top of the page.

 

Alright, please read through the author's excerpt, then provide your feedback in the comments.  My detailed critique is below.

Author: Abby Annis (go visit her and say hi!)
Title: Embrol
Genre: YA Sci-Fi

Excerpt:

 

            Three seconds. That’s how long ittook for my life to end.
            Well, it was an end of sorts. And itmight’ve taken longer. My recollection of that day is fuzzy, at best. I supposeit depends on which point was the actual end. Some might say it was the firstor second or third time I died. For me, it was the moment I saw that truckbarreling toward us. A girl really should have better memories of hereighteenth birthday.
            The day started gray. Not a dismal,ominous gray, but a beautiful, no sunshine or blue skies type of gray. A rareoccurrence in Mesa, Arizona, and my absolute favorite kind of day. Dark, heavyclouds hung low in the sky, moisture and dust mingling in the air to create thesmell that promises rain. Fat drops began to fall, drumming the metal roof andmuffling the chatter of the students filling the outdoor locker area aftersecond period.
            “How’s my favorite redhead on thislovely December morning?” Trevor hooked his arm around my neck and gave me hischeesiest grin.
            I slammed my locker shut. “LovelyDecember morning? What are you? Forty?”
            “Not cool, Livy. You make me promiseto be nice and when I do, all I get is crap from you?”
            “Yeah. Nice for one day. That’s it.Not a complete personality change. I love you just the way you are.”
            “Heh. That was way easier than I thought it would be.” His hand curled around myupper arm, and he let out a high-pitched whistle that made me wish I didn’thave ears. About a million heads swung toward us.
            Ifonly I could melt into the concrete on demand.
            “Today is Livy Ryan’s birthday,” heshouted.
            I tried to yank my arm from hisgrip. He wouldn’t budge. “Trevor, you promised—”
            “You don’t want me to be somethingI’m not. You said so yourself.”
            I should’ve known he’d fabricatesome loophole to wriggle out of his promise. This scene had been an inescapablepart of my birthday since I turned seven. He’d been my knight in shining armorthen. Now, I just wanted to choke him.
            People stared, some of themsnickering.
            “You know I hate you, right?” Isaid, making another lame attempt at escaping.
            He laughed and raised his voiceagain. “Today is Livy’s eighteenth birthday. And what do we do when someone hasa birthday?”
            His audience dwindled, thankgoodness, but a mousy girl blushed, her eyelashes fluttering, and squeaked,“Sing?”
            Whatdoes she see that I don’t? Sure, he was tall—almost six feet—and cute in aTrevor sort of way. His black hair curled up around the bottom of his cap, andhe always had that look in his dark eyes like he was up to something. Seriouslythough, one time a girl actually sighed as he walked by—totally ridiculous.
            Trevor pointed to mousy girl andwinked, flashing his most obnoxious grin. “Give the pretty lady a prize!”
            She giggled and—along with likefifty other people—joined him in singing the world’s longest version of thebirthday song. I pulled my hood up to hide my face, certain my cheeks haddarkened enough to match my auburn hair.
            He finally released me, and I shovedhim away. “Your word is worthless, Trevor.”
            “Aw, c’mon. It’s tradition.”
            “I don’t care what you call it, youpromised… No way. You know that pouty face doesn’t work on me.”
            “Yes it does.”
            “You’re such a pain.” I barelymanaged to withhold a smile.
            Trevor’s arm found its way backaround my neck. He draped his jacket over our heads  and dragged me out into the rain, toward themain building. “We still on for Friday?”
            “Yeah, right. I’m not going out inpublic with you.”
            “I’ll pick you up at six.”
            “I won’t be there.”
            “Yes you will.” He rested his head againstmine. “You love me.”
            “Ha! So what? Doesn’t mean I likeyou.”
            “You know, Liv.” He laid his handover his heart in mock pain. “You really know how to hurt a guy.”
            “Whatever. You wouldn’t be happy ifyou weren’t making me crazy.”
            “Maybe not, but you’re still my bestgirlfriend.” He always said that when he wanted to get on my good side.
            “I’m so telling Brooke you saidthat.”
            “She’ll never believe you,especially after last night—”
            “Ew! No details, please.”
            “The details? Those are the best part.”
Below is my critique, click on FULL SCREEN, then once the document opens, RIGHT CLICK to zoom so you can see the comments.


 
Alright, so what do you think?  Are you hooked?  What did the author do well?  What things could be improved?  Thanks ahead of time for offering your feedback!
 
 
 
 
 
*Today's Theme Song**
"Happy, Happy Birthday Baby" - Ronnie Milsap
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

 

Writer's Insomnia

 


I apologize if this blog post isn't totally coherent.  I have developed a case of writer's insomnia.  You know the disease where you're dead tired, but as soon as the lights go out, your mind goes into overdrive?  Daytime side effects include spending more time listening to the voices in your head than you do talking to your family, putting the milk carton in the pantry and the cereal in the refrigerator, and watching entire tv shows but not remembering anything that you saw.

 

This tends to happen when I have a new WIP.  My brains decides to store away all plot problems, scene ideas, or conflict issues into a file that it only drags out at night.  So instead of drifting off to the land of Nod, I end up running dialogue and story threads in my head until three in the morning.  Then, just when I think I'm going to fall asleep, an idea hits me that I fear will be lost by daylight, so I grab my notebook and jot down incoherent notes--waking myself up all over again.

*yawn*  I enjoy the creative process, but if I don't get some sleep my WIP is going to sound like a first grade reader:  Jack is nice. Jane loves Jack. He feeds her cake.


I'm not sure what the cure is beyond continuing to write so that everything gets on the page and out of my head, so it may be a while before I get a good night's sleep.  But I'm open to remedies if anyone has any.

So how about you?  Do you ever suffer from this affliction?  What do you do to get some sleep?  And how long can milk sit in the pantry before it goes bad?

 
 

 
*Today's Theme Song**
"Brain Stew" - Green Day
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)


 

The Beta Club: Untitled Commercial Fiction - Come Critique!

 


Tuesday is here, which means it's time for the Beta Club!  Are you ready to put that critical eye to use?

 

If you're new to this feature, don't be afraid to jump in with your comments.  All feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive.  And if anyone has an itch to be critiqued, the rules for submitting to the Beta Club are under the "Free Critiques" heading at the top of the page.

Also, Tina Lynn, our first Beta Club volunteer, has revised her excerpt based on our input.  She's posted the updated version on her blog.  Be sure to stop by and tell her what you think!

Alright, please read through the author's excerpt, then provide your feedback in the comments.  My detailed critique is below.

Author: Rebecca (visit her at Diary of a Virgin Novelist)
Title: Untitled
Genre: Commercial Fiction

Excerpt:

 

Daylight fought its way in aroundthe edges of the window shades and the old, dust-covered box fan rattled in thecorner of the room.  Eleanor cracked aneye open, disorientated.  Her mouth feltcarpeted and her shirt, the same flimsy, black top she’d worn to the bar thenight before, was damp with sweat.  Thebed was smooth and empty next to her; the clock on her husband, Andrew’s,nightstand read 10:07.  She wondered whatday it was.
Eleanor leapt from the bed.  There was something she was supposed to be doing.  From far away came the tinny sound of aphone.  Stumbling from the bedroom,pantless and little dizzy, she tried to find the noise.  Debris from her arrival home littered thecramped apartment – heels kicked off in the hallway, wool coat flung to thefloor, jeans balled up on the leather armchair – but no purse.  Eleanor’s heart seized in that panicky,hungover way that accompanies realizing you slept with someone ugly the nightbefore or cackled to a friend about her new boyfriend’s creepy small hands.  Eleanor could taste sour whiskey in the backof her throat.  And that damn phone wasstill ringing. 
Following the sound, Eleanorsnatched her coat off the floor. Searching through the pockets she found nothing but a five-dollar billand a slip of paper with a number scrawled across it.  Frustrated, Eleanor threw the coat to theground.  Looking down at the puddle ofgray material, Eleanor saw her bag right by her feet.  It had been under the coat the whole f***ingtime.  Wincing in pain from her throbbinghead and complete ineptitude, she dug the cell phone out and gingerly held itto her ear.
 “You’re up! I was afraid I was going to have to call you over and over to rouse youfrom the dead.” Andrew’s voice was clear and bright.  He was always so damn chipper in the morning.
“When did I get home last night?”
“Sometime after three AM,” Andrewsaid. “You told me you wanted to buy a Rottweiler so you could terrorize thekids in the neighborhood and then you passed out.”
“That must have been attractive,”Eleanor said as she wandered the 12 feet across the living room.  She knew it was 12 feet because she hadmeasured it in a fit of rage a few weeks after moving into the apartment.
“Very much so,” Andrewchuckled.  “Now, don’t forget yourinterview is at 11:30.  You need to getmoving.”
Eleanor peered at her image in themirror over the mantle.  Her normallyperfect, asymmetrical bob was matted and stuck to the back of her skull; blackeye makeup cut a trail down her face. “That’s right.  The interview.  I knew I had something to do today.”
“You’re going to be great.”Eleanor could hear him typing in the background. “Just be your normal,wonderful self.  If they ask why you leftyour last job just tell them what we practiced: you wanted to work for a smaller,more personable firm where you could have a larger impact.”
“And if they ask about thepenises?”
“They’re not going to ask aboutthe penises,” Andrew said, dropping his voice on the word penises.  “And if they do, say you made a youthfulindiscretion, you were going through a tough time in your personal life, youmade a horrendous mistake but sincerely hope that you will be given a secondchance.  Then redirect them to yourportfolio.  Your work stands for itself.”
“What are you typing?” Eleanorasked.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Eleanor walked backtowards the kitchen, praying for coffee. “I like this idea of a youthful indiscretion. I didn’t know those werestill allowed at 33.”
“I’m pretty sure that was yourlast one.” Eleanor could hear someone come in to Andrew’s office.
“What if I don’t want this job?”she said in a small voice.  There was noreply.  Eleanor could hear the muffledsounds of Andrew speaking to a woman, probably that toothy girl who worked insales and wore her hair in a ponytail.  Ahigh ponytail. 
“Sorry, Eleanor,” Andrew saidafter a beat, “It’s a busy day here. I’ve got to run but call me later. Good luck, honey.”
My critique is below.  Click on FULL SCREEN, then once in the document, right click to zoom so you can see the comments.

Alright, so what do you think?  Are you hooked?  What did the author do well?  What things could be improved?  Thanks ahead of time for offering your feedback!
 
*Today's Theme Song**
"Morning After" - Dead By Sunrise
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)


 

PG Love Scene Blogfest

 


So Simon over at Constant Revision is hosting a PG Love Scene blogfest today.  The challenge requires you to post a love scene that is PG, but where you know that loving is a-happening, lol.  And no fade to black allowed.  I'm not sure this fits the bill.  I had to dig up something from my buried YA (Shadow Falls) because my romances are decidedly not PG.  Even this one is probably a bit much for truly PG, but I figured I'd post it anyway.  I'm trying not to obsess that this is not my best work, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.  And be sure to stop by the other blogs that are participating.

 

 

Pierce kissed me back, cuppingmy face as if he were afraid I would disappear if he let go.  My muscles turned liquid, and I reclinedagainst the doorjamb to prevent from sinking into a puddle on the floor.  We had kissed before, but there was a newcurrent of connection flowing between us now. My palms flattened against his t-shirt, and he slipped his hands into myhair, tilting my head back to gain access to my neck.  With a pace that belied the frantic thumpingof his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, he trailed kisses down the arch of mythroat to my collarbone. 
Electric desire sparkedalong my nerve endings, and a little sigh of pleasure snuck past my lips.  Apparently taking it as encouragement, he traceda path up the other side, ending back on my mouth.  Without letting myself think toomuch, I moved my hands under his shirt and ran my fingers across his feverishskin. 
He put his hand on topof mine. 
“Willow,” he whispered,his voice ragged.  “We should slow down.”
            Wasn’tthat supposed to be my line?  Exceptthat’s not what I wanted to say.  Iglanced at my bed.   “Do you want to stay?”
            Hepressed his forehead against mine and ran a hand down the back of my hair.  “If you’re worried about being alone, I don’tmind staying.  Buford and I can keepwatch out front.” 
            Idrew away and shook my head. “No, I want you to stay…with me.” 
I swallowed hard,bracing for his reaction.  Even I couldn’tbelieve what I was suggesting. Two months ago, I had exactly two kissingexperiences and one awkward groping session to my name.  Now I was inviting a guy to spend thenight.  Things had changed fast.
            “Will.”  His expression darkened and he raked hisfingers through his hair.  “I didn’t saywhat I said to try to get a sleepover invitation.”
            “Shh,”I said, putting my finger over his lips. “I know that.  And I’m making any promises.  I just know I’m not ready to stop yet.”
Epileptic butterflies tookup residence in my belly, so before I could lose my nerve, I grabbed his hand and ledhim inside my room.  I sat on the edge ofmy bed, tucking my knees beneath me, but he remained standing, his posturerigid.  “You’re not making it easy for meto walk away and do the right thing, you know.”
I smiled.  “So don’t.” 
He didn’t move.  Didn’t walk out.  I took a deep breath, not sure what to donext.  It’s not like Seventeen magazine gave instructions on things like this, and momdidn’t have enough money to subscribe to HBO.  I was going to have to wing it.  I reached out, trying to keep my hands fromshaking, and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. He helped me pull it over his head. His chest was smooth and hard as I traced my fingers up from his stomachto his shoulders. 
His body shuddered, buthis eyes never broke contact with mine. “Will, I don’t want to do anything because you’re drunk.”
I laughed.  “I had one glass of champagne.  I’m as sober as Dr. Drew.  But if you really don’t want to do anything,that’s al—”
Before I could finish,he bent down and covered my mouth with his, erasing any doubt he wasn’t awilling participant.  As we kissed, Iscooted backward, allowing space for him to climb onto the bed with me.  I leaned back on my pillows, staring up athim, my heart crashing so hard against my ribs I was sure it would to pop outof my chest. 
He slid hot palmsbeneath the hem of my shirt, moving so slowly, I forgot to breathe.  When they finally reached their destination, aquiver coursed through me, and I bit my lip. In one fluid motion, he pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it tothe floor.  His gaze traced over my skinand ivory bra.  “God, you’re beautiful.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,”I said, my voice shaking. 
He smiled and I closedmy eyes for a moment, trying to reign in the swirl of nerves and excitementcoursing through me.   Am I really going to do this?  What if I mess up?  What if I suck at this?  Then finally, I don’t care, I want him . . . I love him. 
I took one more steadyingbreath, and then met his gaze.  “Comehere.”
All resistance seemedto drain from his face as he stretched out and sank onto me—hard meeting soft.  He nuzzled my bare shoulder, the fresh smellof his tea tree shampoo filling my head. I trailed my hands down his sides, relishing the feel of his skin, andstopped at the waistband of his track pants. Okay, I can do this.  I want to do this.
When I finally musteredup the courage to move my hands lower, he grabbed my wrists preventing me fromreaching my intended target.  “Will, holdon.” 
 “What? What’s the matter?”  Insecuritysurged through me.  “Did I do somethingwrong?” 
He lifted himself off meand rolled onto his back with a groan.  “No,definitely not.  You’re doing everythingright.  Believe me.”
“Then why are youstopping?”  I lifted myself onto my elbowto look down at him.
            Heclosed his eyes.  “I can’t do this.”
            “Okay…why?”
            Hesat up and swung his feet to the floor, putting his back to me.  “Before we do this, there’s something youshould know.”
            Alump lodged in my throat.  No goodconversations ever started with those words. I sat up and wrapped my blanket around my shoulders, my mind racing withpossibilities.  Did he not love me?  Or maybe he had some secret girlfriend…orboyfriend.  No, no way he was gay.  Or maybe he just didn’t haveprotection.  That’d be a logical reason tostop.  The moment before had been soperfect, why ruin it?  I sighed.  “Alright, talk.”
            Hedidn’t turn around.  “Rivers accused metonight of doing magic outside of the coven.”           
            Iscrunched my eyebrows together.  “Whywould he think that?”
            “Becausehe saw how strongly you felt about me in such a short amount of time,” he said,his voice flat.
            “Yeah,but he doesn’t know that we were seeing each other behind his back from thebeginning.”  It probably did seem strangethat I was so into Pierce right after breaking it off with Rivers.
            Piercebowed his head.  “Problem is, he’sright.”
            Mytongue grew thick in my mouth, and I pulled the blanket tighter around me. “What do you mean?”
            Hestood and faced me, strain cutting lines into his face.  “The afternoon I brought you home fromschool, the day we got stuck in the rain . . .” 
I nodded, anxiety marchinglike ants up my spine.
He sighed and droppedhis gaze.   “I put a love spell on you.”

 

Alright, let me know what you think?  And what kind of love scenes do you write--none, PG, PG-13, R, or NC-17?

 
 
 
 
 
 

*Today's Theme Song**
"I Put a Spell On You" - Creedence Clearwater Revival
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)


 

Things I Learned This Week

 


I had a couple of articles I read this week that I wanted to blog about, but instead of doing individual blog posts, I figured I would summarize and then provide you with the links.  And, for those of you who aren't doing the Twitter thing yet, you're missing out on a lot of good info.  Most of these articles came to me by way of tweets.  (Btw, if you want to follow me, click on the flying birdie on the right.)

 

Alright, so things I learned this week...

  • First, blogger has a PAGES feature now!  I have to thank Jody Hedlund for bringing this to my attention.  If you're not sure what I'm talking about, look at the top of this page.  See that?  Other links to other pages within this blog!  So, now we can make our blogs be more like websites.  Of course, I find this out right after I built my professional website, but that's okay.  I'll maintain both for now.  Feel free to click around above and let me know what you think of my new pages.  (To add this feature to your own blog, add the pages gadget in your layout.)
  • The action opening isn't all it's cracked up to be.  This is one of the things that has come up in a few of the Beta Club critiques--help me know the character so that I care that she's/he's in danger in the first place--but this article explained it's much better than I could:  The Biggest Bad Advice About Story Openings (thanks to @elizabethscraig for the tweet)
  • For some reason writers continue to put down other genres.  Why can't we all just get along?  Here's a quote, but the full article is here. (thanks to @Gwen_Mitchell for the tweet) 
Nicholas Sparks has no love forpeople who call his stories "romances."   "If you look for me, I'm in the fictionsection. Romance has its own section," he says toward the end of a long conversation.
  • I'm capable of writing large amounts when I put my mind to it--7000 words this week baby! *happy dance*

Alright, so that's all I've got.  How about you?  What did you learn this week?

 

 
 
 

*Today's Theme Song**
"You Learn" - Alanis Morissette
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)


 

The Beta Club: Strings (YA Paranormal) - Come Critique!

 



It's Beta Club Thursday!  I've been so impressed with all of your feedback on the last few beta posts.  So thank you to everyone who has been participating.  You guys are awesome.


Now for today's entry.  Please take the time to read through the passage and offer the author feedback.  My detailed critique is below.

 

Title: Strings
Genre: Paranormal YA
Author: Tere Kirkland (visit her site and say hi)

Excerpt:
 
 

Blinding smoke chokes me as I dashinto our tiny bow-top wagon. Its wooden walls haven’t caught yet, but theywill, sending my home to the hereafter. Just like Papa. It’s been just over aweek since his death, but life without my sweet papa already seems unlivable.Now I’m losing my home, where he used to sing with me. Where he used to listento me play for hours. If I lose my violin, I might as well die, too.
I fling open the doors to my littlebunk, praying for its safety. Orange light flickers off its smooth surface,right where I left it, the bow nearby. You should have loosened the bow whenyou were done playing, Mara, comes Alex's voice in my head. A fine time forsuch a warning, when I'm risking my skin.
The wooden doors of my bunk are aflamenow, but the blanket is still unburned. I snatch it from the soft mattress,holding my violin tight to my chest and wrapping the blanket close. I canbarely breathe. Crouching down low, I stumble sightless toward the door I'dleft open while the flames eat away our beloved vardo. They'll eat menext if I stay any longer.
Mother is shouting outside."Sweet Saint Sara, save my baby girl!”
I try to croak that I’m here, but myfirst breath scorches my throat. Coughing drops me to the ground. The heat aloneis enough to suck most of the air from my chest. If I die, there'll be nothingleft of my possessions to burn. Nothing left of me to be remembered. Nothingbut my restless muló to haunt them.
I'd laugh at myself if it wouldn'tmean sucking in more smoke. Me, just another muló like old Kira and theTinker? Wouldn't they love to see me so? I grit my teeth. I'm determined tolive, if only to keep from spending the afterlife with those two chattering inmy dead ear.
Clutching my violin tight, I forcemyself to stand. I tuck my face under the blanket and make myself walk towardthe door—that painted door I know so well—quick as a match is struck.
I trip down the three steps and suckfresh air in, nearly collapsing. Mother runs to my side and clutches at thesooty blanket I’m coughing into. Even as she babbles at me through a mess oftears, I push her away. Not that I'm not glad to see her, but I see anotherface in the gathering crowd. The cold, manipulative face of Lucia Saray.
Old Kira stands unseen next to her,rubbing her bloodless hands and speaking threats that I alone can hear. OnlyLucia could have convinced Mother to send our vardo up in flames afterPapa died inside. Though today was his first pomana, the memorial supperheld nine days after his death, Mother still feared his spirit might haunt ourhome.
But she didn't have to worry aboutPapa's muló. Perhaps she wouldn’t have believed me, but I should havetold her so before she burned our vardo. Before she let Lucia take itfrom me. My punishment for chasing Alex away.
I thrust my violin and bow at Motherand drop the blanket to the ground. The wind whips it into the wheel of theclosest vardo where it flaps like a dying bird.
“Mara, what were you thinking?”Mother cradles my tiny violin as if it's a baby. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“No thanks to that old hag,” I spit,stepping closer to Lucia.
The woman’s needle-like eyes narroweven further.
My sister Jeanette steps in betweenus. “Behave yourself, Mara. Have some respect for your elders if you’ve nonefor the dead.” Her grim-faced husband Hugo watches the fire from behind her forany signs it might spread to the other wagons.
Holding my chin up, as if that couldmake me any taller, I spin on my heel away from the judgment in their eyes. Awayfrom the cunning frozen smiles of the Tinker and Kira.
Fire licks at the painted sides ofthe bow-top wagon. Flame manes crown Papa’s painted mares, one each for me andmy two sisters. The little birds Mother kept bright with oil and wax havecurled and warped under the heat. For sixteen years I’ve called the vardohome and in less time than I could play an Irish jig, it’s been taken from me.And soon Jeannette will take Mother away, too. 

 

Below is my crit.  Click FULL SCREEN to view, then once in the document RIGHT CLICK to zoom in to see comments.


Strings-Crit by Roni


Alright, so what did you think of the passage?  Did it hook you?  What did the author do well?  What areas need some work?  Thanks ahead of time for taking the time to give feedback!

 
 

*Today's Theme Song**
"I Burn" - The Toadies
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)


 

Friends Don't Let Friends Overwrite

 


A few weeks ago Miss Snark's First Victim had agent Nathan Bransford participate in one of her Secret Agent contests.  If you're not familiar with the site, I suggest you go check it out.  For those contests, she has people submit a snippet of their opening (250 words I believe), then she posts them for everyone to comment on, including a secret agent.  Then after everything has been commented on, the agent is revealed and he or she picks a winner--often requesting pages.

 

So anyway, as I was reading through Mr. Bransford's comments, I saw a recurring theme in his feedback.   On almost every other post it seemed, he was pointing out overwriting.  In some of those instances, I could see it, in others I would have never picked up on it had he not pointed it out.  So, it was really helpful to read through the posts.  Then, of course, I became paranoid--am I overwriting?

Even though I'm wordy in a lot of things (including these posts), I tend to have the opposite problem and underwrite in my stories.  I struggle sometimes with painting the scene or describing details because I want to jump right into the action or dialogue, forgetting that I need to let the reader know enough to ground them in the scene.  But when I looked through my chapters, I still had moments where I got a little heavy handed on the wordage and needed to dial back.

So how do you spot overwriting?

 

  • Too many adjectives and adverbs.
We already know adverbs are our nemesis, but dumping in tons of adjectives is a problem as well.  Do not put in three adjectives when one will do just fine.
  • Using fancy words when a simple one will do.
A lot of us can fall into this trap because most of us are vocabulary nerds.  We enjoyed studying for the SAT because learning new and interesting words is awesome.  That's why it's so hard to just use said when we could use pontificated.  However, those words are distracting and pull your reader out of the story.  If the simple word works, go with that one.
  • Describing things as if you were a set designer
Long passages describing every detail of the room, setting, or what a person looks like/is wearing, etc. drive me nuts.  I skim these.  Tell me the pertinent details to give my imagination the building blocks to create the picture, then leave me to it.  If you show me the ratty couch with holes in it, I'm good.  I don't also need to know the pattern on the throw pillows.
  • Simile and metaphor overload
A well-placed simile or metaphor can be a beautiful thing.  A whole butt load of them littered all over the page, not so much.  Let a brilliant metaphor or simile stand out on its own by not cluttering the sentences around it with more of the same.  I recently read a book that overused similes so much that I actually stopped reading it--it was completely distracting.
  • Redundancy
This can happen within a sentence (ex. the young four-year old) or can be repeating information you've already told us (telling us the hero's eyes are blue every time you mention his eyes or describing the same house every time the heroine goes there.)
  • Navel-gazing characters
Introspection is good, we want to know what's going on with the character.  But passages and passages of navel-gazing will slow down your pace and earn eye rolls.   Sprinkle the introspection in with action.
  • Trying too hard
The easiest way to find overwriting is to look for those places where you thought you sounded "like a writer." Think of American Idol when Simon Cowell tells the contestant the performance was indulgent.  Those are the performances where the person chose a song and gave a performance that they thought made them look "like a singer" instead of singing something that fit their voice and style. 


Resources: Big Mistake 3: Overwriting and Five Fiction Mistakes That Spell Rejection

 

Alright, hope that helps.  Most editor articles I've read say that almost every manuscript can be cut by 10%, so get to trimming!  :)

So are you guilty of overwriting?  Do you ever have those moments where you think you've just written something very "writerly"?  Which of these drives you crazy when you find them in books?

 
 
 

*Today's Theme Song**
"Truly Madly Deeply" - Savage Garden
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

 

The Beta Club: Lights Out (Fantasy) - Come Critique!

 

                

 

It's that time of the week again!  On today's agenda, a fantasy story.  Please take the time to read through the passage and offer the author feedback.  My detailed critique is below.

Title: Lights Out
Genre: Fantasy
Author: Kristina Fugate (check out her blog: KayKay's Corner)

Excerpt:

 

    
   Winter made itself known last night—hitting us hard in the form ofa heavy snowstorm. The city had been covered in nearly a foot of snow overnightand there was no one feeling it quite like Bolton Falls and the surroundingcommunities. My whole neighborhood has been transformed into a huge, fluffypillow.

    Sadly, snow makes toddlers go insane and my brother is no exception tothe rule. And, as his main caregiver, it is my job to watch over him and makesure no harm comes to that precious head of his.
I stand solemnlyon the porch adjacent to my wheelchair-bound grandfather, tapping my footslowly as we stared out at the frozen wasteland before us. Ashton, the four-year-oldI’m in charge of, is bounding around the yard, dazzled by the heaps of icygoodness covering ground.

    “Ashton!” I call, glancing around for him. He’s managed to disappearfrom sight—probably buried under a pile of snow. His head pops out of a moundof ice, his brown curls littered with snowflakes. “Get away from the road.You’ll get hit!” I command, waving him over.

    I take a quick peek at my watch, realizing it’s nearly time for Granddadto take his medication. Issuing a heavy sigh, I put my hand on his shoulder andsqueeze, trying to get his attention. “Grandpa,” I say loudly, hoping mynearly-deaf grandfather would hear me, “it’s time for your medicine.”

    “Whaa…?” he hums, glancing up at me, “You say something, Skye?” I narrowmy eyes and clench my jaw tightly, trying to keep my cool.

    “Your medicine!” I repeat, almost shouting, “It’s time for yourmedicine.” His expression changes, as if he’d just realized it himself, and hegoes to nodding—like he always does.

    “Ash!” I snap, “Stay close to the house! I’m going inside to giveGranddad his meds!” With that said, I wheel my senile guardian inside. We’vegot one of the smallest, drabbest places in Falcon Ridge, the rather high-classneighborhood we live in, decorated with black and white pictures of relativesthat have been dead for decades and furniture that was probably manufactured inthe 1930s. Our place even has a different smell compared to the other houses inthe area—a very distinctive musky odor.

    I park Grandpa at the kitchen table and go to the cabinet, shiftingthrough dozens upon dozens of pill bottles. I’d had to move them up on theshelf because Grandpa likes to feel independent and take his meds by himself;two stomach pumps later, I figured out they needed to be out of his reach.

    I grab the needed bottles and splay them out on the table, leaningforward on my elbows. “Gramps,” I say sternly, catching his attention, “yourmeds.” He nods for a few moments and stares at me expectantly. “Two of these,”I say, pointing to the appropriate bottle, “One of those kidney pills. And twoof these red ones with a full glass of water. Yeah?”

    “Yes,” he hums, waving me away, “go watch Ashton. I’m sure I can take itfrom here, child.” I quirk a single thin eyebrow, momentarily wondering whetheror not he could really handle it, but decide to let him haveat it and walk away.

     “I’m so underappreciated,” I grumble, gritting my teeth angrily asI head towards the door, “The most unrewarded person on the face of this—”

     My heated comment is cut short by the sound of Ashton screamingbloody murder. The front door flies open and my brother rushes inside, wrappinghimself around my leg. “Si-sissy!” he stammers. He’s trembling and crying hislittle eyes out.

    “What’s the matter, mutt?” I ask, rolling my eyes, “Didja fall in theroad? I told you not to—!”

    “A boy!” he wails, “There’s a boy!”

    I bring my eyebrows together to form a stern, confused line. “A…boy?” Iask, “Whuddya mean a boy? Did someone push you?”

    “No! No! There’s a boy in the snow!” he screams, shaking my leg roughly,“He’s in the snow!”

    My heart almost stops. I can’t be hearing him right. “In…in the snow?”

 

 

Below is my crit.  Click FULL SCREEN to view, then once in the document RIGHT CLICK to zoom in to see comments.

LightsOut-Crit by Roni

 

 

Because I referenced buried dialogue and wordiness in my critique, I figured I'd link to the posts that described those things:

 


Alright, so what did you think of the passage?  Did it hook you?  What did the author do well?  What areas need some work?  Thanks ahead of time for taking the time to give feedback!
 


*Today's Theme Song**
"Everything to Everyone" - Everclear
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

 

Back To the Future: Stories with Dual Timelines

 

 


Lately, in an attempt to stretch my pantser self, I have been trying to outline my new WIP before writing it.  I made it to chapter six before getting itchy and starting to write a bit, but that's okay, right?  Right?  Alright, so I cheated a bit, but it's progress at least.  :)

 

So anyway, part of this process involved fleshing out the characters' backstories.  Backstory is one of my favorite things to come up with.  It may be because of my psychology background, but digging deep into what makes a character who he/she is fascinates me.  So I'm used to having a pretty extensive backstory and accept that only about 10% will make it into the actual story.

However, this time, the backstory started to take on a life of its own.  My story is going to have a major suspense/mystery thread, and I found that the crime that happened in the past ties to the crime that happens in the present.  My romance thread also has story in both times because my hero and heroine had a relationship ten years before and now are thrown back together in the present.  SO, I started to get this urge to write a story with a dual time line.

This means I would have "two nows" as author Charlotte Rains describes it.  I would have chapters take place in the year 2000 and then chapters that happen in the present.  All would be told in real time--meaning, the past chapters would not have that hindsight perspective coloring it.

I've read a few books that use this structure, including Deeper by Megan Hart, which I reviewed a while back, and I've enjoyed the style.  However, I have to say I'm a bit intimidated by it.  I'd basically have to have two complete stories that eventually weave together.

Each storyline has a distinct narrative arc, with its own conflicts, disasters, and troubles for the characters, and its own forward movement and mounting action.--Charlotte Rains

That seems like a lot to keep a handle on, especially when this is my virgin attempt at suspense.  But what good is being a pantser if you don't take a risk every now and again?  And I kinda love the idea of writing my character as an 18-year-old and then as a 28-year-old because I can play with the voice a bit.  So, as of right now, I'm going to give it a shot and see how it goes.

 

But I wanted to ask you guys.  What do you think of books with dual timelines/story lines?  Have you read any that used this structure?  Is it distracting?  Should I just suck it up and try to figure out how to slip in this vital backstory in flashbacks? Let me know your thoughts.

 
 
 
 
 

*Today's Theme Song**
"Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" - Green Day
(player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)


 

Gone: A Review

Gone (Wake Series, Book 3) (Wake Trilogy)

Title: Gone (Book 3 of Wake trilogy)
Author: Lisa McMann
Genre: Paranormal YA
Heat level: Toasty 
Rating: ★★★★
Back Cover (from Amazon):
Things should be great for Janie--she has graduated from high school and is spending her summer with Cabel, the guy she's totally in love with. But deep down she's panicking about how she's going to survive her future when getting sucked into other people's dreams is really starting to take its toll. Things get even more complicated when she meets her father for the very first time--and he's in a coma. As Janie uncovers his secret past, she begins to realize that the choice thought she had has more dire consequences than she ever imagined.

REVIEW:





I've mentioned this series before.  This is the third book, so if you haven't read any, you need to start with Wake and Fade, then go to this one.  They are superfast reads not just because of the suck-you-in plot, but because of Lisa McMann's unique writing style.  She's one of those who has figured out how to break the rules and make it work.  Her sentences are short and choppy much of the time.  And there is *gasp* some telling instead of showing.  But it works amazingly.  Her stark writing style makes for a breakneck pace and high tension.  Here's an example from Gone:

     6:29 p.m
     Voicemails.
     From Carrie.  Five of them.
     And they're bad.
     Janie listens, incredulous.  Listens again, stunned.

Things that rocked:
  • The story jumped into the action, there wasn't a lot of catching the reader up from the previous book.
  • The relationship between Janie and Cabel is both mature yet believable for two teens who have lived tough lives.
  • The drama is gut-wrenching, heavy stuff - no lighthearted conflict here (not that I mind that, but it's a nice change from a lot of YA.)
  • This is a paranormal, but doesn't feel that way.  You almost start to view Janie's dream catcher abilities as if she has a disease.
  • Love Cabel - He's not perfect, he's not described as this gorgeous guy, he's a normal guy who treats Janie with respect, understanding, and patience.  I think he presents a good model for teen girls - look for a guy who treats you with that kind of care and concern.
  • The characters are realistic.  They curse (although not gratuitously) and there is sex (but it is the "fade to black" kind and it is not portrayed as this big, all-encompassing part of their relationship.)  I think both of those decisions fit for two older teens who have grown up basically on their own their whole lives.
  • I felt satisfied with an ending that wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, which is hard to do.  I'm a HEA girl, but Lisa McMann wrote the ending that was needed for this book - bittersweet.
    Favorite Quotes:

         In the cool dark basement, she whispers, "It's not Ralph, is it?"

         Cabel's quiet for a moment, as if he's thinking.  "You mean like Forever Ralph?  Uh, no."

         "You've read Forever?" Janie is incredulous.
         
         "There wasn't much to choose from on the hospital library cart, and Deenie was always checked out," Cabel says sarcastically.

    Overall: 
    Obviously, I'm a fan.  If you haven't read these, pick up the series.  You'll fly through them.  They are very different from the other stuff out there.  So go forth and read!


    Have you read these?  What books have you read that broke rules effectively?  


    *Today's Theme Song**
    "Already Gone" - Kelly Clarkson
    (player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)

    The Beta Club: Half Past Midnight - YA (Come Critique!)

     


    Welcome back to the Beta Club!  Today's entry is a submission from a writer who is new to the word of critiquing, so high five to the author for being brave enough to put the work out there for its first critique!.  :) Below is the unedited entry.  Then underneath that, you will be able to click on the Scribd document to see my critique.

     

    I hope you will all give your encouragement and constructive feedback in the comments.

    Title: Half Past Midnight
    Genre: YA/New Adult
    Author: Choosing to remain anonymous for now.

    Excerpt:

     

    Night time isnever a good time to go out alone, but my Tuesdays had shaped up to be brutal.If I wanted to get in a run it had to be now; and if I wanted to keep up withRyan the next time we ran together then I had to get more efficient. The lastand only time I had run with him he had to stop several times to let me catchmy breath. It humiliated me, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let it happenagain. Of course, I didn’t know at the time he had been a high school trackwonder. I should have known. He’s good at everything.  
     It had been busy today; with work, twoclasses, and a lab. The setting sun called out the end of the day when Istarted my run. Now however, it was dark, and the thick trees lining thestreets of my neighborhood blocked out what few streetlights there were.  With only a few blocks left, I was relievedmy run was nearly over. My legs burned and my sides ached, but I resisted theurge to walk the rest of the way. I would have to get in better shape if Ihoped to keep up with Ryan next time. It would be even better if I could outrunhim at some point.
    As I jogged closerto my house my thoughts drifted to my class load this semester. It had workedout pretty well, for once. My Monday-Wednesday-Friday would hopefully be alittle lighter load than today had been. My last class on those days wasCreative Writing. I felt a little leery about sharing my creative thoughts withother people, and hoped Dr. Gellar would not be too hard. He was a pretty sarcasticcharacter yesterday. 
    Of course, Jessemight make that class more interesting. He sat next to me yesterday, andinstantly intrigued me. A junior majoring in music, he had the darkest eyes Ihave ever seen.  He didn’t say much. I’mnot sure he would have said anything at all if Dr. Gellar hadn’t asked us tointroduce ourselves. He had a mysterious, dark quality I couldn’t quite put myfinger on, as if he couldn’t decide whether to put a wall up around him or takeit down. One minute he had his back turned to me, but the next minute we were sharinga quick grin at something snide Dr. Gellar said.
    I couldn’t believehe actually signed up for this class as an elective. Who takes Creative Writingjust for fun? I would have to be careful with myself around him. He stirred mycuriosity a little too much. And Ryan and I were too close now to let a littlecuriosity come between us, even if we were “just friends” still. I didn’t wantanything to mess up the possibility of something more.
    Just as mythoughts turned back to Ryan something jumped into my peripheral vision. Theblur flew toward me, and I was immediately knocked over the bush that lined thesidewalk. I slid down the picket fence behind it, and found myself pinned, thebush on one side and the fence on the other. But it was more than the fencethat had me trapped.  I felt a hugeweight on top of me.  I tried to pushagainst it when a grisly hand that smelled of alcohol clamped against my mouth.
    “Don’t make asound!” he growled into my ear.
    I felt a franticpull on my shirt and shorts. I thrashed, trying to shake him off of me. Iscreamed, but nothing more than a muffle came out. My arms were pinned. My legscouldn’t budge. I twisted and kicked with every ounce of strength I had, but Icouldn’t move more than an inch. I clung to a fading hope that he would make amistake and I could wriggle free. 

     

    My critique.  Click on FULL SCREEN, then once in the document, RIGHT CLICK to zoom.  (If that doesn't work, click here.) 


    Please provide your feedback below.  Are you hooked?  What did the author do well?  What areas could the author improve upon?
     
     
     
     

    **Today's Theme Song (Author's Choice)**
    "The Reason" - Hoobastank
    (player in sidebar--go ahead, take a listen)