First Friday Fiction Feature – A Walk on the Wild Side

It’s the first Friday of the month. Time for another fiction installment. (Links for this and all Fiction Features can be found on the Freebies page.)

Because yesterday was Halloween, I thought I’d include something here that’s just a little creepy. Hope you enjoy it.

A Walk on the Wild Side

Savannah sat behind the wheel of her car in the parking lot of Cheery Charities, the local store offering discounted and sometimes free items to the less fortunate. In years past, she’d donated many of her things to the store.

Now she was a patron.

Being the number one real estate agent in the tri-state area used to require all of her time. But it was worth it. She had an expertly furnished beautiful five bedroom provincial, a luxury car, money for all her desires, and a sizeable savings portfolio.

When the real estate bubble burst, her whole world disintegrated. She’d burned through her savings, then resorted to selling off her estate. She traded her car for an old jalopy and a few thousand dollars. When she had nothing left to sell, she sold the house and moved into a walk-up efficiency. With little money for rent, utilities, and food, and most of her clothes in a consignment shop, she had no choice but to shop at Cheery Charities. She had no other option; she refused to reach out to her father for help. Their parting had been less than amicable. She wasn’t crawling home looking for a handout after their final conversation.

Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the scent of stale tobacco and what she hoped was wet dog. Pursing her lips, she exhaled slowly and tried not to think about the filth she was sitting in. Or wallow in her current plight. Winter was approaching, and she needed something to block the chill.

Cheery Charities it was, then.

No point in locking up. There was nothing in her car worth stealing, and no one would want to take her car. She merely shoved the door until it finally swung on its ungreased hinges and slammed it closed.

A tiny bell on the door tinkled to announce her presence. She looked around, but no workers came out of the back. She approached a rack holding coats and picked through the offerings until she found a black wool pea coat and tried it on. It was a size too big for her, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

She stifled a mirthless chuckle. She was basically a beggar now. She needed to stop being so choosy and take what was available.

Take what was available?

Could she really steal from a charity? If someone was actually working, she wouldn’t be in the position to consider it. As it was, she was one of the misfortunate needy, and she was entitled to the coat. Probably.

She left the coat on and headed toward the door. If she ever was flush again, she’d make a donation.

Fighting the guilt, she turned her head away from the cash register. A rack of shoes caught her eye. Stepping toward it, her hand reached out to touch a pair of Jimmy Choo’s. Those had been hers, and she had loved them. But they were impractical for people in her condition. She needed something more utilitarian.

Her gaze drifted to a pair of work boots. She didn’t know if they were a man’s or a woman’s. She slipped them on. They were small for a man’s foot, but they definitely looked like a man’s style. She didn’t care. They were steel-toed, fleece-lined, and would keep her warm.

“God, I wish this wasn’t my life.”

A cold chill blew past her, then the room was still.

She glanced at the Jimmy Choo’s one last time, snatched them and bolted out the door with her contraband. She could still hear the bell tinkling when she started her car and drove away.

The plan was to head to the library and use the computer to search for job openings, but she found herself driving to the river. She stopped at the bridge and scrambled down the hill. Metal barrels, rusted from exposure and scorched from years of holding fires, dotted the ground. She thanked the Lord that no one was currently there. She was confused and out of control, and it didn’t seem she had a choice about when to stay and when to flee.

Her feet kept moving, taking her straight to one of the barrels. She held her hands over it as though warming them over a fire. She felt ridiculous, as there wasn’t currently a fire burning, but she couldn’t stop herself. Suddenly she whipped around as though her body was reacting to a threat. She reached into her pocket and whipped out her empty hand, clenching her fist the way a person would grip a knife handle. She began shadow-stabbing a non-existent foe.

Slash right.

Stab.

Swipe left.

Duck.

Spin away.

Plunge.

Her hand stopped attacking and just twisted into the air. She was horrified to feel her cheeks lift up and her mouth split open in a satisfied grin. Then she stumbled backward as though absorbing an enormous weight. Flinging her arms to the side like she was throwing that weight down, she returned her imaginary knife to her pocket.

She walked over to a grouping of stones and hefted one of the larger ones. Then she walked back to where she had done battle and arranged the stone near where she had dumped her imaginary attacker. She repeated that process several times, stopping only to wipe the sweat from her brow. When the stones were in place, she walked to a different area and rooted through a non-existent bin. Returning to the stones, her hands moved like she was tying them to something. Then she started rolling the stones to the river. At the edge of the land above the water, she stopped and shoved.

The current was swift, but not even the rushing water could keep the stones from sinking to the river’s bottom.

Every fiber of her body fought to scream, but all she could manage was a self-satisfied smile. She clambered back up the hill and got in her car.

She drove straight to a homeless shelter on the other side of the train tracks. She’d never been to that part of the city, and felt panic sluicing icy-cold through her veins. A woman stepped out and shook her apron. Seeing Savannah sitting there, she smiled at her and beckoned her inside.

Savannah had no interest in going in, but she couldn’t help herself. She climbed out of the jalopy and sauntered toward the door. The woman held the door open for her, and Savannah looked her over, head to toe and back. Her stomach roiled, sickened by her actions, but she continued on. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said to the woman from the shelter.

The woman cleared her throat and tried to smile. “Hi,” she managed. “Are you looking for a cot tonight? Or a hot meal? We’re here to help.”

Savannah pushed a stray lock of hair away from the woman’s face and smiled when she recoiled from her touch. “After you.”

She followed the woman inside, keeping her eyes on her swaying hips. She wanted to look away, but her eyes were glued to the woman’s backside. When the woman turned and caught her staring, she untucked her shirt and walked more quickly toward the food line. “Here,” she said and handed Savannah a tray. “Go through the line. I’ll send the director over to discuss a bed.”

“Thanks, hon.”

The woman glanced back over her shoulder and scurried away.

The food looked like school cafeteria food—high in carbs, high in fat, completely processed, and way overcooked. She’d been living off ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwiches for months, and even that menu didn’t make the shelter’s food look any more appealing. As it turned out, she didn’t have a choice. Her feet pulled her through the line and she accepted one of everything.

Sitting alone in a dark corner, her thoughts had drifted to what she had done under the bridge. Even though she didn’t actually attack anyone, her actions were those of a murderer, and it freaked her out. And the lack of control? More than a little disturbing.

The woman who invited her in was walking toward her with a man who Savannah presumed was the director. Their heads were tipped toward each other’s in quiet conversation, but Savannah could hear snatches of it.

“…creepy guy last month…mean, exactly…”

“…could be a coincidence that…” the director said.

“…don’t understand…identical conversation to…”

“…the guy…little…”

The woman put her hand on the man’s arm to stop his progress. She whispered something directly in his ear then retreated from the room.

“Hello,” the man said. “I’m Derek, the director here. Callie said you’re interested in a bed?”

The last place Savannah wanted to be was at the shelter at night. Instead of declining, however, she said, “I’d be much obliged.”

Derek raised an eyebrow and studied her for a bit. Then he said, “Follow me.”

He led her into a room with twelve cots. Five of them were occupied. “Make yourself at home. Bathroom’s through that door,” he said, pointing to a door on the right. “Only rule is keep your hands to yourself. Lights out soon.”

“No worries, Derek,” Savannah said, sounding far more comfortable than she felt.

Derek stared at her for a moment, then left, calling for Callie.

Savannah looked at the other people spending the night. None seemed to want to socialize, which was fine by her. She sat on the edge of the cot and bent down to take off her boots.

She slipped them off her feet and was suddenly freed from their compulsive powers. A comforting warmth spread through her, then dissipated. The boots! Why hadn’t she realized sooner that her will was overpowered the moment the boots touched her feet? She quickly tucked her feet under her on the cot and stared at them. They looked innocent enough, but they were deadly. Literally.

The door opened again and a man sauntered in, calling over his shoulder, “You’re welcome to join me, sugar. I don’t bite. Much.”

Savannah didn’t hear Callie’s answer, but the man grinned and said, “Suit yourself.”

He strutted toward Savannah and took the cot next to her. He lay on his side, propping his head on his hand and staring in her direction. “New here, sweetheart?”

Savannah’s mouth instantly dried, preventing her from speaking. She couldn’t take her eyes off his feet. They were small—unusually small. Roughly her size.

Noticing where she was looking, he tried to look at her feet, but they were still tucked under her. Then he glanced down at the floor and saw her boots. She saw the recognition flit across his face right before Derek came to the door and said, “Lights out.” The room plunged into darkness.

Savannah’s heart slammed off her ribcage. A gravelly voice right in her ear said, “I think you have something of mine.”

She jumped off the bed and bolted for the door. She didn’t stop until she’d run out of the room, through the dining hall, and into the street. Her jalopy was where she left it, and she jumped in, fumbled for her keys, and jammed them with trembling hands in the ignition. Then she took off for home, not looking back. Part way home, she grabbed the Jimmy Choo’s off her seat and tossed them out the window.

She entered her apartment and locked the door. Looking around, she took in the sparse furnishings, dreary walls, and stained carpet. Safety trumped luxury any day, and she was safe. For the moment, anyway.

Why had she ever wished for another life?

A noise at the door startled her. She crept to the door and looked out the peephole. Seeing nothing, she gripped the handle and flung the door open.

A cat screeched and darted down the hall.

Pride be damned. She didn’t want the boot-man’s life, but she didn’t want hers any longer, either.

Striding across the room, she grabbed the phone off the receiver and dialed.

“Dad? It’s me.”

On Your Mark, Get Set…

How many of you are familiar with Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi of WritersHelpingWriters.net (formerly The Bookshelf Muse)? Many of you, I’m sure. They’re the multi-talented authors of The Emotion Thesaurus, and they’ve just released two new books, The Positive Trait Thesaurus and the Negative Trait Thesaurus. I’ve already obtained a copy of both, and I can’t wait to dive in.

Angela and Becca, in their usual helpful fashion, are doing something truly wonderful this week. They are hosting an Amazing Race to help writers with 10 specific items. Many writers (myself included) have volunteered to help them with their project. And not just any writers, experts in the field. You don’t want to pass this opportunity by. Go to their website (writershelpingwriters.net) to sign up for one of the categories and someone will help you with one of the following:

a first page critique
a one paragraph hook critique
a query letter critique
a twenty-five word pitch critique
a tweet about you
a mini blog review
book exposure on someone’s blog
requesting a future guest post
having a question answered
social media handouts (Becca & Angela will handle these personally)

I hope you take advantage of this wonderful opportunity. There are also giveaways every day! Come on! You’ve got one week! Click on the link above or the badge in my sidebar to access their site, and I’ll see you there!

46th Annual Ozark Creative Writers Conference

It’s that time of year again. I spent Thursday, Friday, and Saturday in Eureka Springs, Arkansas at the Ozark Creative Writers Conference. For forty-six years, they’ve been bringing in experts in the industry, and this year was no exception.

Dusty Richards

Thursday evening began with prolific western writer Dusty Richards holding an informal meet-and-greet. Many attendants gathered for two hours, introducing themselves and talking about their writing journeys. Later was open-mic night, where writers snacked on hors d’oeuvers and had the opportunity to read a few pages of their work to a captive and encouraging audience: their peers.

Friday was a full day. After opening remarks by Beth Bartlett, this year’s OCW president, writers had the opportunity to attend one of two sessions. Writer and editor Margo Dill covered the children’s market while blogger and publisher Dan Case of AWOC Publishing discussed blogging.

I attended the blogging session, and plenty of great information was addressed. Mr. Case covered the five elements of good blog posts (headlines, hooks, word count, photos, and conclusions) and emphasized that above all else, content is key. He offered examples, answered questions, and proffered advice for the blogging writer, novice to expert. He also suggested some resources for blogging and obtaining stock photos.

After the break, author and teacher Pat Carr covered writing love scenes. (Not sex scenes. Love scenes.) She discussed the twelve steps of intimacy and the importance of them occurring in order, followed by the five scenes that must be present in a novel or short story. When these scenes (meeting, conflict, admiration, affection, and climatic resolution) are written with proper pace, flow, and order, the story will be a success. She also offered ten scene descriptors that will enrich the setting, and therefore the story itself. The session concluded with a writing exercise, and some writers were brave enough to share their efforts. Their results, using techniques learned in session, were amazing, and covered romantic love, love between family members, and even love of special pets.

After lunch, there were again two sessions to choose from. Travel and western writer Johnny D. Boggs hosted a talk while marketing specialist Dianna Graveman of 2 Rivers Communications talked about public speaking and social media. I attended Ms. Graveman’s session and learned so much. She stressed that writers are business people and need to approach their careers that way. Providing value and being sought after is far more effective than the hard sell. She offered several options where writers could seek out public speaking engagements, from historical societies to continuing education programs. She also addressed several social media opportunities to garner speaking engagements, and offered invaluable tips on how to promote speaking events (reminding us that promotion should occur before, during, and after the engagement for full exposure).

After a quick break, Susan Swartwout, publisher at Southeast Missouri State University Press, gave a presentation on queries and rejections. She discussed the twelve items agents and editors look for in a query letter (everything from the hook to the marketing plan) and then moved on to the reasons for rejections. She offered twenty-one reasons why writers might be turned down, some being the writer’s responsibility (bad writing or not following guidelines) and some boiling down to fate (publisher maxed out on that topic or the printing schedule is booked). Dr. Swartwout’s talk was peppered with examples and she offered great advice.

The day ended with a presentation by Peggy Vining. Ms. Vining has been attending the OCW Conference since it began, and in 2003 was appointed Arkansas Poet Laureate by then Governor Mike Huckabee. Ms. Vining shared her love of poetry with the writers in her session. She believes it’s important to spread the love of words and form throughout the community.

Later that evening, Dusty Richards assumed a role he’s well known for. He served as the auctioneer at the first ever OCW Auction, where a good time was had by all.

Jim Donovan

Saturday began with keynote speaker, literary agent Jim Donovan, discussing a writer’s path to publication. He said a crucial question writers should be asking (but almost never do) is: How do I become a better writer? And he proceeded to answer that question with some great advice. Mr. Donovan gave six important steps which will help writers improve their craft:

Read as a reader, to absorb what works in that genre.
Read as a writer, and focus on specific elements (character, dialogue, pace, action, plot, setting).
Read writing books to learn rules and technique.
Write regularly.
Join a good critique group.
Revise, revise, revise.

He then discussed query letters and what agents and editors want in a manuscript. He ended his talk with a Q&A session.

After a break, writers were again given the option of two sessions. Writer and self-publishing guru Velda Brotherton held a workshop on preparing a document for Kindle while Pat Carr covered short story writing. As I am lucky enough to regularly benefit from Ms. Brotherton’s expertise (I’m a member of Northwest Arkansas Writers, a critique group run by Ms. Brotherton and Mr. Richards), I made the difficult decision and attended the short story session. Again Ms. Carr offered great advice. She said it is paramount to make a reader care about the characters, and gave five ways to make sure that readers care. Writers must show that the character:

cares about others.
is capable of love.
is in jeopardy or danger.
is doomed (but cannot whine about his fate).
is vulnerable in some way.

She talked about the use of actions, emotions, dialogue, and scene descriptors, then ended with a writing exercise: write one scene resulting in an epiphany, portraying a strong emotion. It was a great exercise, and she seemed pleased with the results.

Kevin Brockmeier

After lunch, keynote speaker and noted author Kevin Brockmeier shared three excerpts of his acclaimed works (there’s nothing like hearing an author read his own work, when you know the inflections and emotions are as the writer intended), then he answered questions. He talked about his writing process, discussed his characters and the messages he explores in his work, and offered a list of books and authors he loves to read.

editors panel 2 — Margo Dill, Jim Donovan, Lonnie Whitaker, Susan Swartwout

There was a quick break, and then I had to make a difficult choice again. Ms. Graveman gave a talk on freelance editing, which I desperately wanted to attend, but opposite her was the editors’ panel. I couldn’t walk away from a chance to pick the brains of not one, but seven, experts in the field.

editors panel 1 — Lou Turner, Dan Case, Delois McGrew

The panel consisted of publishers Lou Turner, Susan Swartwout, and Dan Case; editors Delois McGrew, Margo Dill, and Lonnie Whitaker; and agent Jim Donovan. Questions covered several topics, from contract language to editing rates. All too soon the session was over. I’m sure we could have peppered them for information all day.

The conference “proper” ended with a toot-your-own-horn segment, where people could talk about their achievements. It seems every year people have more to celebrate, so we must all be improving. That’s just proof that the conference was again a success.

That evening was the concluding dinner and awards banquet. I’ll be posting my awards soon on my Awards link, or you can check out all the winners on the OCW site. So many talented writers were acknowledged that evening, and we had a lot of fun. This year, I met up with old friends, made new friends, and learned a lot. I can’t wait until next year when I can do it all again! Hope to see some of you there.

Are You Using Your Support Effectively?

I’m writing this post on Saturday, even though I’m going to schedule it for Monday at my usual post time. (Just so you understand the chronology here.)

This is a big week for us. My parents are visiting, probably mostly to see the kids and their sporting events, but I’d like to think they’re coming to see me and my husband, too. That means the stuff I usually put off until things are desperate (someone’s down to the last pair of underwear or the dogs have shed so much I could create a third puppy out of what’s left) need to be dealt with now. (Hey, they say if your muse strikes you should let some other things go. I take that advice to heart.)

Of course, my help has abandoned me. One child had a friend spend the night and now they are working at a school fundraiser. The other spent the night somewhere else and is at a practice. This afternoon, both kids have a two hour tennis lesson. That puts a lot of the work on my shoulders.

Enter, my husband. Hero to the rescue!

While I was playing chauffeur this morning, he was dutifully cleaning the kitchen (one of my most hated chores). Gotta love him.

I think it’s important that you have someone in your life to lean on. We have significant others we turn to in troubled times, family members we confide in, friends we talk out problems with, colleagues who work with us to make our craft better. A support system is key, for both practical purposes and our mental health.

I won’t be as available as usual this week. I’m entertaining guests! If I’m part of your support structure, though, (and if I am, I’m honored), and you need me, let me know. I’ll make the time.

Until next time, have a great week!

And writers, remember, your hero is only as good as his or her support team. Take the time to develop your secondary characters, too. They’re what keep your hero on track. (Think about Frodo without Samwise, Batman without Robin, Sherlock without Watson… Pooh without Piglet! These heroes need their backup, their sounding boards, their moral compasses. Use them well.)

6 Life Lessons from Football (A Fan’s POV)

I love football season. My son plays. My husband used to play. If it’s autumn, then Monday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, we’re in football mode.

My son’s high school team won its home opener this Friday. Penn State won Saturday. (Yes. I live a stone’s throw from the University of Arkansas, but I watched Penn State.) I couldn’t wait for Sunday, when the Steelers would play. That would be a two-fer for me. I’d get to see my favorite team and I’d get to see some Pittsburgh skyline shots. (Gee… do you think I might be homesick?)

Their game started off great. The very first play (kick off) they were gifted with a safety because of the other team’s error. They didn’t even have to do anything, and they had two points on the board. It was a great way to start the game. Then they drove the ball down the field on their first possession. I was overjoyed.

Until they fumbled near the end zone.

It kind of went downhill from there. Sacks, interceptions, punts, injuries… It was ugly. We had one good drive near the end and our offense finally put seven on the board, but we didn’t recover the onside kick. The Steelers lost, 9-16.

The good news is, the rest of our division lost, too. All four are tied for first place. Or last.

When the yelling and complaining and armchair coaching were over, I got to work. And as I prepared this post, I realized a few things.

Hard work doesn’t always result in a win. It does make you a better person, though.
Officials aren’t perfect (or they’re horribly biased). In short, life isn’t fair. Adapt.
If your choice of entertainment raises your blood pressure, it’s no longer entertainment. It’s a health hazard. Reevaluate your attachment.
In contests, there are clear winners and losers. But that doesn’t mean everyone can’t learn something from the process.
There are more important things than winning. Like, how you conduct yourself in the face of adversity and how and with whom you choose to spend your time.
Time spent with family is time to treasure. Years from now, no one will remember the score of the game, but everyone will remember the good times spent together.

We’ve got months left in the season. I’m going to try to keep my emotional investment to a minimum and just enjoy the sport for what it is—entertainment. Maybe you can help keep me in check. If I start ranting about the games, please remind me of this post.

For Writers:

Some of these lessons can be as important for your characters as they are for society. As you work, consider:

How hard your characters work at both enjoyable and miserable tasks. What do they learn from their efforts?
How one character can impact outcomes for another character. Do they make bad decisions resulting in more problems? How is that adversity coped with?
Do your characters have unhealthy attachments to something? Can they change their attitudes? Do they need to? Is it a harmless vice or a dangerous addiction?
At the end of a conflict or battle, have all of your characters grown and changed?
Do your characters have an opportunity to make a choice between a habit and a loved one? Which do they choose and why? What are the consequences?
How do your characters interact with loved ones? Can you write a scene or two about which, years from now, your characters would reminisce? One that is poignant enough for your readers to remember?

So everyone, what’s your take on these lessons? Why don’t you share (WIP stories or real life experiences) in the comments section?

When I Knew I Was a Writer

I am participating in the ‘Writing Contest: You Are A Writer’ held by Positive Writer. Here is my entry:

When I Knew I Was a Writer

I used to distinguish between the words “writer” and “author.” You see, I’ve been a professional writer since before I graduated college, and a writer since I knew how to write. Authors were a different breed—they were published fiction writers.

When I was little, I used to draw pictures and write stories or reports to go with them. When I was in second grade, we had spelling pre-tests on Mondays (before we were introduced to the words for the week). Students who got 100% on the pre-tests were asked to write stories on Fridays when the rest of the class took their official test. I usually aced the pre-tests, and on Fridays I would create fascinating characters in magical worlds. Sometimes I continued those stories at home, just so I could complete what I’d started in class. In junior high and high school, I’d write poetry in my free time. If I’d had a computer back then, I probably would have written more. You can only do so much with writer’s cramps in your hands.

I wasn’t an author, though. I was a hobbiest.

When I went to college, I considered writing as a major. Many discouraged that choice (never my parents, though). People said all I could do with a writing degree was teach or write books, and few people ever get their books published. So I majored in business, which I hated, and then architecture, which I didn’t care for either. Running out of time and options, I defaulted to English. Even after changing my major so many times, I was able to not only catch up, but double major, write for the faculty newspaper, and create software documentation for an on-campus software developer. All that, and I graduated on time. I got my degree in Professional Writing and Creative Writing, and did so well the university offered me a scholarship to continue my studies. I jumped at the chance and began writing for more on-campus departments. I took an internship with the H&SS College’s Public Relations Department and managed to get my master’s degree one semester early. After graduation, I started working for local companies. I started as a copywriter for a local travel agency, then I worked in the development department for a nursing home, which I left for a corporate communications job at an engineering firm. After the birth of my first child, I left that department and transferred to the technical writing side of the company.

I’d been writing since I was young. I had been a writer since college. But I wouldn’t even consider calling myself an author.

After my second child was born, I quit working to be a stay-at-home mom. I loved it, but I missed writing. My parents suggested I write a book, but I was busy with my children. Instead, I took some freelance writing jobs. When the kids got older, I even starting teaching three writing classes at a local college.

I had gone from writing to teaching. I began to doubt that I was even a writer any longer.

But then we moved, and I was without a job. The kids were in school, and I had nothing to do. I decided to try my hand at fiction. It had always been a passion of mine; I might as well explore it.

I read books, I joined critique groups, I went to conferences and workshops.

And I wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

I had short stories published in a little over a year.

Three years into the process, I have a published novel, an agent, and a job as an editor.

I am a “writer” and an “author.”

And what did I learn from that odyssey?

I’d been a writer and an author ever since I put words to my pictures as a young girl.

In fact, I don’t even distinguish between the terms any longer.

I may have resisted calling myself a writer for a long time, but it seems I was born one.

And I’ll be a writer until I die.

6 Lessons Learned Because of the First Day of School

back to school — I thought we were organized and prepared, but as you can tell, my daughter lost her blow dryer. How do you lose a blow dryer? Should have expected the unexpected.

Today is the first day of school for my kids. I have no idea where the summer went. It seems like it was just last week that they came home ready to celebrate the end of their school year. We went back to Pennsylvania for a visit, came home, and sports practices started. Now here we are, school supplies purchased and packed, and struggling to get up in time to make the bus.

I guess the adage is true: Time flies when you’re having fun. Or running all over the city as a chauffeur.

I dreaded this day since the first day of summer break. I hate not having my kids around. Sure, they weren’t around that much anyway, what with social events and sports activities, but they were here a lot more than they will be now. And in a few years, they won’t be here at all.

Saying goodbye is hard. (tweet this)

But there are positives to the new school year starting.

The kids will get to see all their friends every day.
They’ll get to explore new subjects and learn new things.
I’ll get back into a routine, which will make writing easier than it had been this summer.
There will be less mess in the house.
Steeler Football is starting. (Yes, that’s a selfish one, but it’s a benefit to me.)

I don’t know if you, like me, are feeling that temporary empty nest syndrome, or if you have the house to yourself permanently, or if you have babies at home and won’t be getting a break. What I do know is that we all have things in common.

We all can benefit from spending time with family and friends.
Knowledge is wonderful and powerful.
Routine breeds productivity.
Physical decluttering leads to mental clarity.
Change can be good.
Entertainment in any form (particularly Steeler football, but to each his own) is necessary for recharging.

Fall isn’t always looked at as a time of new beginnings. In fact, that’s when leaves are falling, harvests are being reaped, and summer toys are being stored.

But it’s time more than just students and teachers look to autumn as a new beginning. (tweet this)

Take this opportunity to reexamine WIPs and breathe new life into your efforts. January 1 does not need to be the only time we stop, take stock, and make plans for improvement. What areas in your life could use a fresh start? Why don’t you share in the comments section?

Mystery Heir Spotlight

A big thanks goes out to Missy Frye for hosting a book spotlight for my new novel, Mystery, Ink.: Mystery Heir. There you’ll find a short bio, a description of the book, and a never before released excerpt.

Check her post out here. I hope you enjoy it, and send Missy some love!

Enrich Your Characters in 5 Easy Steps

I am a space fanatic. It started when I was a little girl in school studying the constellations. I was hooked. Even today, I’d give anything to try an antigravity chamber and the multi-axis trainer. Don’t get me wrong; I have absolutely no desire to go into space (the thought terrifies me), but what’s out there is fascinating. I’m always watching television specials about the stars, the planets, dark matter, and black holes. I’m the one in my family telling people about upcoming meteor showers, eclipses, and anything interesting they might find in the sky. When NASA canceled the shuttle missions, I was devastated. But I still follow ISS news.

This summer has been particularly eventful. Did you know that history was made on July 9? Luca Parmitano was the sixth Italian astronaut in space, but the first of his country to take a spacewalk. He celebrated by sharing some traditional fare with his crew mates. The Italian Space Agency created an antipasto appetizer, a lasagna and pesto risotto first course, an eggplant parmesan main course, and a tiramisu dessert. (Imagine that. Tiramisu in space!) Parmitano began a second spacewalk on July 16, but the walk was cut short due to water leakage in his helmet. It was a dangerous situation, but he remained calm and tragedy was averted.

Of course I feel some Italian pride given his accomplishments, but that wasn’t the only exciting thing that happened this summer. On November 26, 2011, NASA launched a space probe to Mars. It just landed on August 6, after what is being dubbed as the “seven minutes of terror.” When it finally set down, undamaged, in the Gale Crater, NASA’s celebration was caught on camera—and instantly Flight Director Bobak Ferdowsi became an internet sensation.

Ferdowsi, now known as “Mohawk Guy,” didn’t set out to break scientist stereotypes, but he’s doing it. He’s a self-proclaimed ‘exercise fiend’ and a recreational softball player, but what’s taken over the web is his hair. Ferdowsi gets a special cut for each mission, and this one was noteworthy. He sported a Mohawk with red and blue highlights and bleached stars in the side. His cut inspired plenty of memes and a 10,000 follower spike for him on Twitter, but really, he is inspiring many of today’s youth to become scientists. By breaking the mold of “geeky scientist,” he’s opening the world of science to a whole new group of students. And isn’t that what’s really important?

Writers: Consider the characters in your WIP. Are any of them stereotypical in any way? Dumb jocks, nerdy scientists, Versace-clad models, Rolex-wearing businessmen? Try mixing things up a bit to add variety and authenticity to your characters. Here are five things to look at when analyzing pigeonholed characters.

Clothing
Do your characters wear clothes that announce what they do or who they are? Coaches may need sweat suits on the field, but not at home. Maybe your coach likes to lounge around in silk pajamas or dress clothes. This wardrobe change can help expose the hidden dimensions of your character.
Hair
Many people don’t think about it, but hair can be stereotypical. The librarian with her hair in a bun. The model with long curly tresses. The surfer with bleached streaks in his hair. It doesn’t have to be that way. Consider changing a stereotypical hairstyle to make your characters more individual.
Accessories
Are the props you’re working into your characters jobs and homes trite? Try using a few things that are unexpected, or omitting some things that are cliché. Using our librarian again, does she wear eyeglasses on a chain? Omit them. Does your professor have a pipe and leather chairs in his office? Nix the pipe. Switch an overstuffed sofa in for the chairs.
Food
Unless you’re trying to establish a strong cultural tie, you don’t want your characters eating and drinking only food from a specific ethnicity. The Irish don’t need to always be drinking in bars, an Asian character doesn’t have to eat rice with chopsticks for every meal, and Italians (and I know this for a fact) like more than just spaghetti or pizza.
Activities
Are your characters involved in cliché work and play situations? Does your English teacher only attend the theater? Send her to a ball game. Does your coach come home and turn on Sports Center? Have him play classical music instead. Doing something out of the ordinary will round out your people and make them more than cookie-cutter characters.

Changing from the unexpected will enrich your work, deepen your characters, and enliven the reading experience for your fans. Just a little work and forethought goes a long way in story development. It’s worth it.

Are you a space fan, too? Are you interested in breaking stereotypes or in encouraging students toward the science fields? Are you working on a story where you’ve shattered traditional labels? Share your story with us in the comments section.

Do You See the Magic in the Small Things?

Did you ever see something that took your breath away? Something new to you, beautiful beyond compare?

We were out shopping at a home improvement store, something that makes everyone in our family grumpy. The kids were arguing, my husband and I had grown short-tempered, and we all really just wanted to go home. Then my daughter said, “Hey. What’s that in the sky?”

We all stopped and looked. There was a large cloud in the sky colored like a rainbow. It wasn’t raining; it wasn’t even overcast that day. It was a sunny afternoon, no chance of precipitation. But there it was: the rainbow cloud.

We all stopped and stood in the parking lot, staring at the anomaly. None of us had ever seen anything like it before.

And then I noticed the true benefit: we’d all stopped arguing. There was no sniping about the heat, no arguing over what to buy, no griping about how long we were out.

We all were silent taking in the beauty of the rainbow cloud.

Sometimes nature interrupts life and we need to just stop and take it in. (tweet this)

Once we got back in the car, the fighting was over. It was as though the spectacle had erased all feelings of ill will. We were quiet, and at peace.

I’m not saying it was a magic cloud. On the contrary, I believe there is a scientific explanation for what we saw. I don’t know what it was, but I know there is one.

What I am saying is: sometimes things intrude in our lives that make them better. (tweet this)

Take a moment today to look around, to stop and smell the roses, to listen to a symphony or just walk in the park. Open your mind to a new experience and you might be surprised at how you’re elevated.

And writers: consider taking a break in the action to let your characters experience something momentous, something that changes their perspectives or just gives them time to breathe. Sometimes the best parts of your work can be found not in the action scenes, but in the downtime between them.

In my recently published novel, Mystery Heir, the most poignant scene doesn’t occur during the action. It occurs in the moments between, when protagonist Naomi reunites with her new friend, Aaron. Here is an excerpt:

Out in the waiting area, Penelope and Ryan were standing and talking. But Naomi’s eyes were drawn to the benches. That’s where Aaron sat, alone, waiting. She headed straight for him, and when he saw her, he leapt up and ran at her. He flung his arms around her waist, nearly taking them both down to the floor in the process. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and put her head down to his. She had a great rapport with all her college students, but she couldn’t remember the last time she had bonded so quickly or so fully with a younger child. She stood there, enveloped in his embrace, and marveled at her fondness for him.

“I was worried about you,” his muffled voice said from inside the hug.

She pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. “I’m fine. I was worried about you.” She pulled him down on the bench beside her.

“They couldn’t reach my mom last night. She was in surgery.”

“Oh no! Is she okay?” Penelope asked. She and Ryan had walked over and she heard Aaron’s last statements.

“She’s fine. She’s a nurse at St. Vincent’s Hospital. I guess she was called into some surgical procedure, and they couldn’t get her out. They reached her this morning. She’s on her way here now.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you’re safe,” Penelope said.

He looked at her, then turned back to Naomi. “They’re bringing Social Services in, too.”

Naomi took his hand and squeezed it. His eyes were dry, but she could see the sadness and fear in them. “Everything will work out, Aaron. You wait and see.”

He shrugged. “I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry I blamed you. I know it wasn’t your fault.”

She dropped his hand and put her arm around his shoulder, hugging him again. “No worries now.” No matter what he said, what anyone said, she’d always carry guilt for what happened to him.

Ryan said, “Aaron, Miss Williamson from Social Services is here. She’d like to see you before your mom arrives.”

Naomi gave his shoulders one more squeeze, then she turned him to face her. “Listen to me. You’re going to be fine. And you have my number. If you ever need anything, anything, you call me. Understand?”

He nodded. And without another word, he got up and went off with Deputy Ryan.

“Good kid,” Penelope said.

“Yeah,” Naomi said. Her voice was hoarse, and Penelope was wise enough not to comment on it.

So you see, the downtime between action scenes and plot progression is where readers learn the most about your characters. Make sure you use those slower moments to explore your characters’ depths.

If you’d like to read more of Mystery Heir, you can find it on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

If you’d like to share something that stopped either you or one of your characters and led to a breakthrough moment, tell us about it in the comments below.