Writing Retreat in England

I had the express privilege of traveling to Devon England for a writing retreat in November. It was hosted by Charlie at Urban Writers' Retreat. She spent the whole week overfeeding us with cake and vegetables and tea. The cottage was something out of Jane Austen. And the other writers were very interesting and fun to get to know.

I felt a little strange doing this. I'm not one to go somewhere just for myself. It was oh so fulfilling though. The vibe of just being around other writers was like a drug. I wrote a few blog posts, worked on a writing class that I'm taking this month, and finished a first draft of my novel. Overall, I wrote over 10,000 words in four days.

I learned that I can sit down and start writing at 9 am and keep writing until about 4 pm (with maybe a walk or tea break in between). I made some new friends that I can't wait to go back to England and visit again. It was the most relaxing and comfortable trip I've been on. I can't wait to do it again.

Show and Tell in a Nutshell by Jessica Bell - Book Review

Show and Tell in a Nutshell by Jessica Bell is a writing craft book that is practical. Jessica shows the reader how to show in a very practical and dynamic way. She gives examples of telling and then switches them right around to showing. She also provides exercises and blank sheets of paper for the reader to try it all out on their own.

I could not believe the amount of scenes Jessica managed to create with such flair and intensity. The tone of each was so very different. I have never seen such obvious yet beautiful examples of showing. As an editor, I look forward to recommending this book to my authors. It has the ability to broaden a writer's horizon not just in showing but in the tone and temper used.

I received this book from the author for review.

Showing vs Telling New Book by Jessica Bell

Click to add me to Goodreads!

Have you been told there's a little too much telling in your novel? Want to remedy it? Then this is the book for you!

In Show & Tell in a Nutshell: Demonstrated Transitions from Telling to Showing you will find sixteen real scenes depicting a variety of situations, emotions, and characteristics which clearly demonstrate how to turn telling into showing. Dispersed throughout, and at the back of the book, are blank pages to take notes as you read. A few short writing prompts are also provided.

Not only is this pocket guide an excellent learning tool for aspiring writers, but it is a light, convenient, and easy solution to honing your craft no matter how broad your writing experience. Keep it in the side pocket of your school bag, throw it in your purse, or even carry it around in the pocket of your jeans or jacket, to enhance your skills, keep notes, and jot down story ideas, anywhere, anytime.

If you purchase the e-book, you will be armed with the convenient hyper-linked Contents Page, where you can toggle backward and forward from different scenes with ease. Use your e-reader's highlighting and note-taking tools to keep notes instead.

The author, Jessica Bell, also welcomes questions via email, concerning the content of this book, or about showing vs. telling in general, at showandtellinanutshell@gmail.com

Reviews:

“Jessica Bell addresses one of the most common yet elusive pieces of writing advice—show, don't tell—in a uniquely user-friendly and effective way: by example. By studying the sixteen scenes she converts from “telling” into “showing,” not only will you clearly understand the difference; you will be inspired by her vivid imagery and dialogue to pour through your drafts and do the same.” ~Jenny Baranick, College English Teacher, Author of Missed Periods and Other Grammar Scares

“A practical, no-nonsense resource that will help new and experienced writers alike deal with that dreaded piece of advice: show, don’t tell. I wish Bell’s book had been around when I started writing!” ~Talli Roland, bestselling author

Purchase the paperback:
$4.40 on Amazon US
£3.99 on Amazon UK

Purchase the e-book:
$1.99 on Amazon US
£1.99 on Amazon UK
$1.99 on Kobo

About the Author:
The Australian-native contemporary fiction author and poet, Jessica Bell, also makes a living as an editor and writer for global ELT publishers (English Language Teaching), such as Pearson Education, HarperCollins, Macmillan Education, Education First and Cengage Learning.

She is the Co-Publishing Editor of Vine Leaves Literary Journal, and co-hosts the Homeric Writers’ Retreat & Workshop on the Greek Isle of Ithaca, with Chuck Sambuchino of Writer’s Digest.

For more information about Jessica Bell, please visit: 
Website
Blog
Twitter
Facebook

The Publishing World - On the Brink of Change

I’m going to start with a bit of an explanation about publishing books. At the top of the ladder are what we call the ‘Big Six.’ These are the mainstream publishers: Hatchette, Macmillan, Penguin, Harper Collins, Random House, Simon & Schuster.

Then we have the smaller publishers. These are companies that have managed to continue to publish books as it is meant to be, paying the authors. There is also self-publishing and indie, which can vary from an author doing everything themselves to an author hiring others to edit and design.

Then we come to vanity publishers, the bottom of the pile. Vanity publishers charge the authors to publish their books. It can be thousands of dollars to get anything from a full editing and designing cycle to just having your book printed as is. That’s not how publishing works. We don’t pay to have our art circulated, we are paid.

This is all changing.

The Big Six are now the Big Five because two of them have merged.

And now we find out that two of them, at least, are turning to what they call ‘self-publishing’ but what is really vanity publishing. They are charging money–under different publishing names so as not to tarnish their beloved mainstream–to offer publishing services.

I always wanted to be published by a Big Six. It would be proof that I was a good writer. But seriously, not now. They are just big business now. They used to mean something, but I think they've lost it all for the money. Besides the fact that they are dying and merging and all kinds of other things to stay afloat.

I’ve been changing my opinion for a while now, as I work with small publishers and I really like what they are doing. I have to be honest, when I started editing in college, it was for a vanity publisher. This was all before I understood what that meant. I have since moved on and will not accept a job unless I have researched a ton and know it’s legit.

I think I’m finally to the point where I won’t even be trying to submit my work to agents and mainstream publishers anymore. The publishing world is changing. It’ll be a while before it settles into a rhythm again, maybe never. But that change is so obviously on the horizon now, and I want to be ready for it.

Robin Hood and the Girl - Original Fairy Tales Challenge

The conclusion of Robin Hood and the Girl for my Original Fairy Tales Challenge. The beginning is here.

Ann-Rentgen at deviantart

One night Robin called her over.
“Lil,” he said and slapped an arm around her neck. “We have a job for you. It will involve some danger, and quite a bit of strength, but it must be done and you need to prove yourself. There is a certain noble who has been giving too much trouble. Think you can pull him off his horse on the highway and steal whatever he has? Including the horse of course.”
She just nodded, her lips tight.
“Ok. We’ve been told he’s riding through later tonight. You better get a move on.”
She went. She found the road. She hid in a tree hoping to jump down and use the power of gravity to stop the noble. But he was riding on the other side of the road so when she jumped she only grazed him. He hauled on his horse and jerked to a halt.
“What is this? Children robbing me now?”
“Give me your things,” she said. Hoping her courage and strong voice would force him to comply.
He lifted his head to the sky and let go a big belly laugh. “I don’t think so little one. How about you come home and work for me in legitimate business?”
While he was laughing and persuading her, she had inched forward until she could jump at him. He caught her, still astride his horse, and they tussled. Her cap came off, her hair flowing down, and with his arm around her upper body he gave a shocking scoff.
“A woman?”
“No,” she squeaked.
“Come child. You are coming home with me.”
She started to fight with all she had, but he overpowered her and tied her hands, dumping her over his horse’s rump behind him. She had a mouthful of hair and dust before long.
He kept her in a dungeon with a barred window. He took her clothes and gave her a nightdress. She sat crumpled in the corner bathed in moonlight, picking at the seam of her dress with her fingers.
A face appeared in the window.
“Lil?”
“Yes,” she said. Not realizing it was him, Robin.
“You’re not Lil.”
She stood. “I am,” she blushed.
“You’re a girl!”
“I am.”
He stared at her. Then he seemed to decide because he sent signals back to men behind him. He unscrewed the bars from the window and reached down to help her climb out. He gripped her hand and they ran into the forest.

Robin Hood and the Girl - Original Fairy Tales Challenge

I confess I didn't read all of Robin Hood this month yet. It's a lot of short stories so I've gotten the feel for it and written my own rendition. Here is the first half for the Original Fairy Tales Challenge, the other half will be posted later this week. Let me know what you think!

krankyk on Etsy

Liliana crept through the forest, keeping her arrow nocked and her feet quiet. A fox ran in front of her and off to the left. Before she caught up with him, and he skittered off, she heard noise. Men. They sang in drunk voices. She thought she could hear drinks sloshing and a fire.
Looking around each tree before she continued forward, she saw them before they saw her. In a clearing was a party of men, all dressed in green and brown. They were indeed drinking and were roasting a boar on a big spit. One of them called out to a younger man in the center of the group, “Robin! To Robin!” Instantly Liliana knew who they were, and she ran.
Out of breath and fairly dirty, she had returned to the house with nothing to eat. So her stepmother took her out back, chose a particularly prickly branch, and beat her. She whimpered a bit but didn’t cry out or shed a tear. She went to bed hungry and sore.
The sun began to rise and woke her the next morning. Her stepmother was still asleep and her father was already in the fields. She took some of his clothes – trousers, a button shirt, and a cap – and tied them around her scant body as best she could. She tucked her hair under the cap, unable to bring herself to cut it off. Then she grabbed her bow and set off for the forest in search of the merry men.
She stomped through the forest intending to be found, and find her they did. Three of them dropped from the trees to surround her.
“What’s your business here,” the largest, she guessed Little John, said.
“To join you,” she said, trying to deepen her girl’s voice.
“I see,” he said. “Bind and gag him boys.”
She tried to fight but it was no use. They took her bow, to which she cried out, and dragged her the rest of the way to the clearing. She was set before Robin on his log. He leaned back and put his arms behind his head, extending his size. He wasn’t much bigger than she, or older.
“Who are you?”
“An orphan.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It’s answer enough,” she said. His eyes were a beautiful blue, and she couldn’t stand to look at them or she would blush and give herself away.
“Can you shoot?”
“Of course I can.”
“Let’s see it. Untie him.” They released her and gave her a bow and arrow, but not hers. This one was a much stronger wood with less bend and the bow string was very taut. Her shoulders were stiff from the beating, but she wouldn’t be laughed at. With a tiny grunt, she pulled the string back and let the arrow fly. It hit Little John’s hat and took it from his head to secure it to a tree behind him. His eyes were saucers.
Robin laughed.
“Very well. Get this man some sustenance.”
She managed to keep her secret. Whenever she needed to do something private she walked a few miles away. It turned everything into an ordeal, but it worked.
But every night Robin would pull his closest group together and talk. He tended to send looks her way, looks that were full of meaning. She just ate and drank, trying to stay inconspicuous.

Passion - Urban Writers' Retreat Bootcamp Competition

Passion. Is it something we all inherently have or is it something I need to find like a magic flower hidden in a fairy forest among moss and squirrels? I have always been in the pursuit of passion. Witnessing dreams come to fruition for others sends me spiraling into depression faster than anything else.

If I have had anything that resembles passion in my life, it is for writing. There are certainly others: loving my loved ones, giving of myself, reading…

I dread every sunset when a day passes that I feel I haven’t done something, I haven’t made a difference. I want to be remembered, maybe even cherished. Writing is my chance at that. Who knows if I can evoke emotion or make someone laugh, but I will die trying simply because it makes me feel wonderful.

I have one novel finished. But I need another. Just to prove to myself that I really am a writer, that I don’t give up when it’s too hard, that I am capable of being passionate about something.

Urban Writers' Retreat is having a competition with a prize of winning a place in a four week writing bootcamp. This is my entry.

Author Interview Jess Lourey The Toadhouse Trilogy

Hi Jess!

Just a few questions for Jess Lourey who wrote The ToadhouseTrilogy: Book One. I reviewed it last week and wanted to get into the mind of the author. Here we go:

So I think the question on all our minds, since your book is about books, is what is your favorite book and why?

Oh man, you started out with the killer question! That’s like asking me which of my kids I like the best. I’m not going to weasel out, though. If I had to pick the best, all-time book, the one I read at a very influential point in my life and that has resonated with me ever since, I’d pick Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon. That book just spoke to me in my early 20s, took me away somewhere raw and beautiful, and changed my sense of myself. My favorite piece of classic literature is probably Sinclair Lewis’ Main Street, but the more I research for The Toadhouse Trilogy, the more I realize how many amazing classics there are just waiting for me to read them and fall in love.

How did you get from writing murder mysteries to young adult?

December Dread comes out next month, and it’s the eighth book in my Murder-by-Month series, which means I’ve been writing mystery novels for over seven years nw. When I set out to write the first in The Toadhouse Trilogy over a year ago, though, it didn’t feel like a deliberate choice to switch genres so much as giving voice to a story idea that I had that I became obsessed with. I hope my mystery roots serve me well in the pacing of The Toadhouse Trilogy. As my ten-year-old son likes to tell me, the best YA is YA with a secret.

Who is your favorite character in The Toadhouse Trilogy: Book One?

I want to say Aine because she is the main character, but to be honest, she and I butted heads so much that I’m still a little sore. She’s so strong-willed that she didn’t stand for much author manipulation. I found myself losing sleep over Spenser, her brother, though, and feeling sad for days when bad things happened to him. And I also have a deep crush on Gilgamesh. Hmm. You know, some days, when I’m at my weakest, I just wish someone else would hurry up and write these books so I could read them, but then I wouldn’t get the honor of wrestling with these characters, all of whom I’ve come to love.

Any particular reason you chose to write about fairies?

You know how when you learn a new word, suddenly you hear it everywhere? Once this story idea came into my head, I started seeing parts of it everywhere, and I only had to weave them into the fabric of the larger story. I knew there had to be a magical element, the “writers” in the world I was creating, and the more I started digging in classic literature, the more I realized how often fairies appear in some of the greatest works of fiction ever written. So, the fairies knocked, so to speak, and I answered the door.

I’m not sure if you’ll answer this one, but can you give us a hint as to where Aine and Spenser will go next?

I can do you one better. At least I hope you think it’s one better. J Here’s the description for Monsters: The Toadhouse Trilogy, Book Two:

Aine, Spenser, and Gilgamesh have retrieved the first object, but their time is running out. Biblos the Book Worm has returned, and he is devouring the greatest novels ever written in his hunt for the threesome. Their desperate search for the remaining two objects is further complicated when Madame Bovary discovers the secret of the toadhouse and escapes her novel to wreak havoc across worlds. Aine leads the desperate race through Babbit, Frankenstein, Beowulf, and The Jungle, confused by the developing romance between her and Gilgamesh, worried for her brother Spenser who is growing ever inward, and amazed as her and Spenser's magical powers develop by the day. Will they retrieve the second object, or will Biblos destroy them first?

Thanks for doing this Jess. Can’t wait to see more of your young adult books.

It’s been my absolute pleasure! Thank you for having me.

Jess Lourey is the author of The Toadhouse Trilogy: Book One, the first in a young adult series that celebrates the danger and excitement of reading. She also writes the critically-acclaimed Murder-by-Month Mysteries for adults with a sense of humor. She's been teaching writing and sociology at the college level since 1998. When not gardening, writing, or hanging out with her wonderful kids and dorky dog, you can find her reading, watching SyFy-channel original movies, and dreaming big. You can visit her website at http://www.jesslourey.com/toadhouse/index.html, on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/jess.lourey, or email her at jesslourey@yahoo.com.

My Editing Process

I'm sure the idea of working with an editor on your baby is a bit daunting. You don't want to hand your precious art to someone and let them rip it apart with their jagged teeth. But don't worry, it's not that bad. I promise.

I'll give you a little insight into how I work, maybe that will put you at ease.

The First Read Through

Once your manuscript has passed through acquisitions and is finally assigned to me, I'll take it on my e-reader and do a complete read through for the overall concept, getting a taste. I'll write notes as I go and then pass on a letter to you. During this read, I'm contemplating character arc, timeline and pacing, and the big picture. I like to gnaw on the thing as a whole before I start to digest. We'll delve into the little stuff later.

The Second Edit

This time around, after I've received your updates from the first read through, I'll go through with a fine tooth comb and rip to shreds…sorry, I mean carefully fine tune your work. This means I look at the arc in each scene as well as spelling and grammar mistakes as I go. This is when it gets bloody. We might need to cut a character or change who they are. I particularly enjoy when I get to delete line after line after…I'm sorry, where was I?

The Final Read

This third time, after we have carefully polished your manuscript, I'm pretty much just checking the changes you made after the second edit. Then I'll send it off to copy editing, who will proofread it. See? Not that bad after all. *licks blood from her fingers*

This blog post was originally posted on my publisher's blog, WiDo Publishing. Go check out the other stuff we are posting there!

Cinderella Conclusion - Original Fairy Tales Challenge

The conclusion of my Cinderella retelling (click that for the first part) for my Original Fairy Tales Challenge. Let me know what you think, I love critiques (honestly, I can't get better without them).

Flamingos by ~emeph on deviantART

     Ella held up the edge of her shimmery, purple gown and carefully placed a heeled foot on the next wooden step, then another heeled foot on the Astroturf.  She patted the pink flamingo by the gate for luck. One of Marjorie's many admirers was sitting in his beater truck waiting for Ella. He honked the horn and revved the engine so she stopped hugging her aunt and went stumbling across the gravel to the door.
     "Make sure you say hello to the birthday boy!" Marjorie called, watching the truck disappear around the bend with Ella's hand waving elbow-elbow-wrist-wrist out the window. Then she sat in her lawn chair to light up again and wait until midnight. Ella would be back to return the dress by then or else Hadley would catch her before she got home around one. That woman needed her beauty sleep, and still it did nothing for her.
     Ella left her hand dangling out the window to feel the breeze. She was hot and flustered. Her chest constricted like it did when Jessica was sitting on her and pulling her hair just for fun.
     She arrived at the party and realized the air inside the club was worse than the truck. The elegance of the gold chandeliers and the pink champagne with floating strawberries was too overwhelming.
     Girls in pretty dresses swirled around the dance floor on their partners' arms. She felt more dazzled by the flirtatious smiles all around her than the twinkling lights. Ella ducked and weaved through the crowd to avoid her stepsisters. They were obnoxiously loud in one corner where they were recounting their dances with the birthday boy for a few other girls in their class.
     "He was just so sweet."
     "Ain't he just perfect?"
     Following the wall, she found the birthday boy, greeted him dutifully, and then escaped to the back lawn. She hadn't paid enough attention, because someone had followed her.
     "Do I know you?"
     Ella whipped around to face the deep, sultry voice.
     "You wished me happy birthday, but I don't think I know you."
     "I was invited," Ella stammered. One of her heels was stuck in the grass from her quick turnaround. Her ankle was twisted at the oddest angle and she was trying to hide her grimace as she yanked on her foot.
     "Are you ok?" the boy with the square jaw and shiny blue eyes said. He peered around her legs.
     "I'm fine." Her foot flew out of the shoe. She kept her gown over it to hide her embarrassment.
     "Well, can I know your name?"
     "No." She looked right at him, daring him to ask again.
     "Ok. Um. My name is Darryl."
     "Yes. I know."
     "Ok."
     "Ok."
     "Well this is awkward," Darryl said with a breathy laugh.
     "I was just about to leave anyways." Ella adjusted her dress and switched her weight from her sore ankle.
     "You just got here. Do you want to go for a walk?"
     She glanced at the clock above the patio door. It was just about to strike 11:45 and she knew she needed to get back. Marjorie had taken so long with her make-up she had only had about an hour at the party. It was all fine for her, she was done. There was no need to try this stunt again.
     "No. Thank you. I really do have to go."
     The boy, Darryl, showed no sign of leaving, so Ella gave up and turned her back. She left her shoe stuck in the ground and limped to the truck in the driveway. She heard Darryl laughing behind her, but she threw her shoulders back and held her head high as she wobbled across the soft, dewy grass and into the dirty truck.
     She looked back to see Darryl holding her shoe like a teddy bear and squinting to read the truck's license plate.

* * *

     Then things happened in a flash. Ella made it home and was in her bed before her evil caretaker would stumble in. But she woke the next morning to bright sunshine caressing her face and the sound of trucks on the highway overpass – not a single screech or moan or complaint.
     She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. And then she saw flashing red and blue lights circling their way closer and closer to her bedroom window. The police car stopped outside and walked up her path. She ran for the door, breathless with fear.
     "Ma'am, I'm sorry to tell you this but your guardian and sisters died in a car crash last night."
     He held his arms out, ready to catch a fainting girl, but he was disappointed when she jumped up in the air and whooped.
     She moved in with her aunt, she found a job at the local ice cream parlor, she went back to high school, she continued with life. But then one day, she was invited back to the country club by a boy who had just moved to town. He went to the public high school with her, but he was part of the elite sweaters-on-shoulders crowd. He took her to the pool and then they walked around the gardens in the back of the club.
     They sat on a stone bench, enjoying the feeling of the sun and the hormones coursing through their veins. Ella looked up into the dazzling sky and saw the top of a fountain that hid in the middle of a hedge maze. It was her shoe. She grabbed the boy's hand and tugged him through the maze, darting this way and that to find her way through. They reached the middle and she gaped at her shoe, on top of a three-tiered birthday-cake fountain, with a plaque at the bottom that read:
     For the girl I lost.

Cinderella - Original Fairy Tales Challenge

My Cinderella story is ready! Here is the first half, the rest to be posted later this week.

Cinderella by ~Maryanneleslie on deviantART

  In the dark night only the tip of her cigarette was visible. With every pull it brightened with an electric orange. Then through the dim light she saw a girl running. She ducked between the RVs, campers, mobile homes, and every pink flamingo in between. Her white skin and yellow hair flashed like neon lights in the darkness.
"Ella?" Marjorie called.
"Shhh!" the girl cried. She flipped over the makeshift, plastic fence in front of Marjorie's trailer. "Aunt Marjorie, don't let them know I'm here."
"Why are you here?"
"Because that witch is being cruel. She's always cruel. And her daughters just make it worse. I needed a break."
"So you come to me."
"Well, you are my aunt, aren't you?"
"Yes." Marjorie stubbed out her cigarette and looked Ella over. Her rags were more rags now than ever and her face was streaked with dirt. She had the blossoming body of a young woman, and the face of an angel covered in soot.
"You need to brush your hair. Come on in."
Ella followed her aunt inside and sat down before the flannel-covered couch to be pampered. After the tangles were gone and her hair shone like gold, she fell asleep with her head tilted back, mouth open. Marjorie turned on the TV and let the blue glare wash over them.
In the morning Ella woke with a start. She ran back to her own trailer, hoping her stepmother hadn't noticed her absence. She raced into the kitchen and started the breakfast. In her father's shaving mirror, hung inside a cabinet that Hadley never dared open in case there were rats inside nibbling on the crackers, Ella saw her shiny hair and tried to muss it enough so Hadley wouldn't punish her. She wasn't supposed to leave their trailer, especially if Hadley was asleep.
Hadley and her daughters, Jessica and Jennifer, stumbled into the kitchen with their hair in curlers and cigarettes dangling from their lips.
"Good morning," Ella said. She set plates and mugs before them and then went to clean their rooms.
"Ella!" Hadley screeched.
"Yes?" she stopped in the hallway.
"We're going to the club tonight for a birthday party." Her stepsisters went to a private school with debutantes and yacht owners. Ella was convinced Hadley was doing inappropriate things with the headmaster to afford the tuition. "We need the dresses on my bed cleaned and fancied. And I need you to go buy some make-up at the 7-Eleven."
"Ok."
"Along with your other chores," Hadley said.
"Ok."
Jessica and Jennifer spent the afternoon with masks on their faces, painting each other's toenails. They sent Ella here and there, getting things – another color eye shadow from the store, their brushes from the bathroom, a soda from down the road at the bus stop, a movie from the rental store. They made her wax their legs and then slapped her when it hurt. She helped them put on their dresses, curled their hair, and smoothed in their bronzer and blush.
When they finally left in a limo borrowed from one of the other trailer park residents, Ella felt like her back was going to break and her fingers would bleed. Instead of finishing what she had left to do, she went to Marjorie.
Marjorie took one look at her face and dabbed at the tears with the corner of her floral Muumuu. She put her arm around Ella's shoulder and led her inside.
"What now?" she asked, popping open a can of soda.
"They went to a dance at the country club. I've been running around all day. I'm just tired. Can I sleep?"
"They went to a dance?"
"Yep."
"Well, then you should go too."
"What?" Ella sat up from her almost-asleep position on the broken recliner.
"Why not?"
"Let's see," she counted off on her fingers, "I don't have a dress, I wasn't invited, I look terrible, they would kill me when I got there. What else?"
"They won't even know you're there. Come with me."
She tugged on Ella's arm and got her to stand. She led her over the shag carpet and past the laminate wood walls to a room in the back Ella had never seen. Inside were closets upon closets built from PVC pipe and shower curtains. Marjorie threw one open and sparkles and glitter and pretty things came tumbling out.
"What is all this?"
"I used to be on stage."
Ella's mouth dropped open.
"Oh close your mouth. Not like that. I was in beauty pageants, darlin'."
Ella ran her fingers over the sequined dresses. They felt stiff and sharp, like the edges of knives, but they shimmered.
"I've got tons of make-up too. A little old and maybe crumbly, but it'll do. Go take a shower, we'll make you shine."

Fabric by Jessica Bell - New Poetry Collection Review

Jessica Bell's new poetry collection, Fabric, is full of life. It reads like little stories in the lilt and cadence of her tone and voice with raw emotions ranging from anguish to giddyness to satire.

I am not a poetry reader, I really wish I were and that I had the ability to put words like that onto paper. I would love to let my inner self flow like that. But even though it's not my thing, I couldn't put Jessica's book down. I thought I would spend a few days, savoring a poem here or there. But I never stopped. And even after, I went back to taste again on a few of my favorites. I particularly love one called 'Once.' It goes forward and then takes the same lines backward - what artistry to make that happen, and then I found even more meaning behind it in the appendix. Stunning!

Jessica really wants everyone to understand that poetry can be for the every day reader. So please support the life of poetry today by spreading the news about Fabric. Hey, perhaps you might even like to purchase a copy for yourself? The e-book is only $1.99 and the paperback $5.50.

Here are the links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Goodreads

About Jessica Bell:

If Jessica Bell could choose only one creative mentor, she’d give the role to Euterpe, the Greek muse of music and lyrics. And not because she currently lives in Greece, either. The Australian-native author, poet and singer/songwriter/guitarist has her roots firmly planted in music, and admits inspiration often stems from lyrics she’s written.

She is the Co-Publishing Editor of Vine Leaves Literary Journal, and co-hosts the Homeric Writers' Retreat & Workshop on the Greek Isle of Ithaca, with Chuck Sambuchino of Writer’s Digest.

For more information about Jessica Bell, please visit:

Website:

String Bridge (a novel) 
Homeric Writers' Retreat & Workshop 
Blog 
Vine Leaves
Facebook
Twitter

Drabble Dienstag - Home

Another one from StoryADay May. I was feeling whimsical and wanted something happier since most of what I've been writing has been depressing.

The breeze lifted wisps of red, curly hair and tickled her neck. The coffee tasted like a campfire in a good way, reminding her of all those summer nights in high school and bonfires. The sun setting at the end of the street, glinting off the building windows and shining in her eyes, was like a beacon leading her home. She was headed west. Sweat dripped down her back. She enjoyed sitting in that wicker chair surrounding by movement and life. The waiter took her change, and she got back in the car to continue on her road trip home.

Drabble Dienstag - Goodbye

Here's another drabble that simply poured out during StoryADay May. It feels like it shows a lot, since I don't explicitly say what's going on. What do you think?

She sat in her rocking chair on the porch, sweet tea on the glass and iron table beside her and the sun setting before her. The last person had left, walking their way down the creaking stairs and across the gravel to their car. She watched the dust cloud follow the car out to the highway. Alone was better, not best, but better than having people in her home invading her space. Her knees popped with every push against the rocking chair. As the sun sank below the horizon, she whispered her last goodbye to the love of her life.

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green - Thoughts

This isn't so much a book review as it is my rambling thoughts. I probably should have typed it up right after finishing the book because at that point I was broiling with emotions. I wanted to let it settle, but I've waited too long. I want to discuss a few ideas so please chime in in the comments.

Whenever I read John Green I become this big blob of hormones. I cry, I laugh, I'm completely jealous of his characters and his abilities as a writer, I want to scream, and I can't put the book down until I'm finished. It's a complete overload of feeling. I love his books, but I can't read them too close together because his characters feel like the same people from book to book. The plots change, and I am still totally sucked in, but the characters all seem the same: angsty, overly vocabulary-capable (if that makes sense), too smart for their own good teenagers.

But the parents in The Fault in Our Stars, oh the parents. I loved them. They weren't nonexistent, they weren't distant and silly, they were there. Does anybody else find that annoying in young adult books? Parents are a big part of kids lives, even if they are distant and irresponsible. They still have huge impact.

The way he dealt with cancer was just, wow. I could not have done that. It was raw. But not awkward. And getting to see how a cancer kid treats another cancer kid while commiserating together over the way people without cancer react. It was simply well done.

I highly recommend this book (and John Green's other stuff) to anyone wanting to get into the young adult market who hasn't before. I always give my copy of Looking for Alaska to young adult newbies.

Drabble Dienstag - Choices

This is isn't pertaining to a specific something. It's mostly just a reflection and was a away for me to play with words.

That moment; when your heart, or maybe head, makes the choice. You are no longer confused. But now you tumble into yet another trap. Was it the right decision? Will you get a mulligan if you want one?


You spent all that time debating the answer itself that you almost wonder what the question was in the first place. Sunshine bursts through the clouds, dappling your face with shadows of leaves.


It doesn't matter now. It is done. The act of constantly flipping and flopping between the choices made the consequences instant. It is too late to go back now.

Random Act of Kindness BLITZ!

A smile. An encouraging word. A thoughtful gesture. Each day people interact with us, help, and make our day a bit brighter and full. This is especially true in the Writing Community. 

Take a second to think about writers you know, like the critique partner who works with you to improve your manuscript. The writing friend who listens, supports and keeps you strong when times are tough. The author who generously offers council, advice and inspiration when asked.

So many people take the time to make us feel special, don't they? They comment on our blogs, re-tweet our posts, chat with us on forums and wish us Happy Birthday on Facebook.

Kindness ROCKS!

To commemorate the release of their book The Emotion Thesaurus, Becca and Angela at The Bookshelf Muse are hosting a TITANIC Random Act Of Kindness BLITZ. And because I think KINDNESS is contagious, I'm participating too!

I'm blitzing Jessica Bell because she is one of those amazing people who has loads of things to do and yet takes the time out to help out other writers (or how she has helped me with freelance editing). She is extremely supportive and I think she deserves a little support back.

I have another writerly friend who has guest posted here (Hanna) who paints mugs with literary quotes, and I will be sending one of those with Jessica's favorite quote from Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson on it.

Do you know someone special that you'd like to randomly acknowledge? Don't be shy--come join us and celebrate! Send them an email, give them a shout out, or show your appreciation in another way. Kindness makes the world go round. :)

Becca and Angela have a special RAOK gift waiting for you as well, so hop on over to The Bookshelf Muse to pick it up.

Have you ever participated in or been the recipient of a Random Act Of Kindness?  Let me know in the comments!

Drabble Dienstag - Lotus Exige

We took our Lotus Exige on the Nürburgring. The sensations of that ride aren't easily describable, and I don't think I did it justice here. I may have to try again, but it feels like it needs stream of consciousness or a poem. I also wrote this drabble to start myself off easy in StoryADay. Here's to a productive month of writing!

Dropping and dipping and floating and squealing, the car rocketed around corners, over bumps, through dips, and into the straight. My heart hadn't expected to last the trip. The adrenaline rush made my stomach plummet at first, especially on the first turn and when a Porsche passed our Lotus too close for comfort. My fingers tingled and when I stepped out of the car, my legs barely held me after ten minutes of constant flexing, pushing against the floorboard to keep my balance and sanity. But despite all of that I had a smile on my face. It was fun.

Ripper, My Love Debut Novel from New Author Glynis Smy

Today writer/poet, Glynis Smy adds author/novelist to her name. Her debut novel; Ripper, My Love, is launched in ebook format and paperback. The genre for this love story falls into the one of Historical Romance Suspense.

Growing up in late nineteenth century East London, Kitty Harper’s life is filled with danger and death – from her mother, her beloved neighbour and the working women of the streets.

With her ever-watchful father and living surrogate family though, Kitty feels protected from harm. In fact, she feels so safe that while Whitechapel cowers under the cloud of a fearsome murderer, she strikes out on her own, moving into new premises to accommodate her sewing business.

But danger is closer than she thinks. In truth, it has burrowed itself right into her heart in the form of a handsome yet troubled bachelor, threatening everything she holds dear. Will Kitty fall prey to lust – and death – herself, or can she find the strength inside to fight for her business, sanity and her future? And who is the man terrifying the streets of East London?

Who is Glynis Smy?

Glynis was born and raised in England, in the coastal town of Dovercourt, near the port of Harwich (where the captain of the Mayflower lived). After qualifying as a nurse, she married her school friend, and they produced three children. During her rare quiet moments, she wrote poetry and articles for magazines. In 2005 she and her husband emigrated to Cyprus for a new life in the sun. It was here that Glynis lay down her cross stitch and started making writing friends on the Internet. With their support and encouragement she shared her poetry, and was successful in a few contests. She shared a short story with a friend, who wrote back telling her it was worthy of becoming a novel, and not to waste the premise upon a brief plot. The story is the one being launched today. Glynis found her love of writing 19th Century, historical romances and her second novel, Maggie's Child, will be published at the end of 2012.

Aside from writing and Cross stitch, Glynis enjoys creating greetings cards, and sells them to raise funds for a small hospice in Cyprus. One of her pleasures is to sit on the back porch with a glass of wine, and reflect upon her good life. She can often be heard chatting to new characters urging her forward.

Her desire to pay back those who had supported her is realised in a blog designed specifically to promote the books of others: New Book Bloggerhttp://newbookblogger.blogspot.com/. You can find her personal writing blog at www.glynissmy.com. Glynis finds the community spirit of writers on Facebook a valuable one.

Want to purchase a copy?  Launch day price for the Kindle is 99c/77p!

Amazon Kindle 

Amazon.com Paperback  

Amazon.co.UK Paperback & Kindle UK
The Book Depository UK (free delivery worldwide)
The Book Depository. Com
Barnes & Noble

Plagiarizing My Own Ideas

plagiarism [pley-juh-rahyz, -jee-uh-rahyz]

an act or instance of using or closely imitating the language and thoughts of another author without authorization and the representation of that author's work as one's own, as by not crediting the original author


according to dictionary.com

According to that definition I can not plagiarize myself. But other people (and especially colleges) say you can by submitting the same work twice. But what about re-using an idea? If I type brand new words involving the same theme, is that plagiarism?

I have loads of unfinished novels in my drawer (computer files in my case but drawer sounds better). Some of them have terrible writing, some of them have good writing, some of them have great ideas. And I always have this feeling of doing something bad when I re-use some of my old work in new pieces, even if that old work hasn't seen anything but the dark wood it is surrounded by.

This feeling is probably because of how harshly it was pounded into my head to NOT PLAGIARIZE. In college they didn't even trust us to tell the truth; they made us submit all papers to turnitin.com, a website that checks the work for plagiarism against all of the internets.

So what do you think...is it plagiarism to copy your own work if it's unpublished? Should I relax and not think that the FBI is going to bust down my door if I hit ctrl+c ctrl+v?