Sneak Peek

peeping tomYou’ve been asking about what my next novel is about. Here’s a little sneak peek;

How do your write about magic when the protagonist doesn’t know anything about it herself?

Well, you just write. You dream it up, because nothing has to make sense. Sense is over-rated and we often forget that.

Sometimes the best existence is just feeling; living in the moment as a big, fat, YES!

Sometimes witches don’t wear black velvet dresses or have long, black hair. No. Sometimes they wear jeans from the church rummage sale and men’s white undershirts.

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Andshelaughs on Wattpad

Whenyouleast expect itYou just have to meet her.

She’s ballsy with a whole lot of living to tell you about..

You’ll need to sign up at Wattpad.com

Happy reading…

Friday Fifty

kiwiIt’s  Friday Fifty! I’ve linked through another blog above, but I believe that this Friday Fifty was inspired by the Scottish Trust’s Fifty Word Fiction Competition.

“I peel back her soft, brown skin, still warm from the sun, knowing that underneath, her succulent juices will rise to meet my expectant tongue. It’s been so very long since my hunger matched the season with one so fresh, so ready to be taken. How I love my kiwi.”

If you’d like to give Friday Fifty a spin, you must play by the rules as posted at  dans les pointes suture darlings.  You can leave your fifty in the comments box  or post it on your blog and link back to this post.

Twitter etiquette for Friday Fifty on Twitter, then don’t forget to use the hashtag #Friday50. Happy Writing!

Friday Fifty: Temptation

Up Skirt Lunch View

Up Skirt Lunch View (Photo credit: schatz)

Ok, here’s my first crack at the Friday Fifty.I’ve linked through another blog above, but I believe that this Friday Fifty was inspired by the Scottish Trust’s Fifty Word Fiction Competition.

“Her knees cinched even closer, pinching her milk-white skin so that the blood stopped flowing to her waiting calves.  The rough skin of his hands wrapped around the stem of the glass whispered, “I’m going to take you places you’ve never imagined.” She no longer felt the February chill.”

If you’d like to give Friday Fifty a spin, you must play by the rules as posted at  dans les pointes suture darlings.  You can leave your fifty in the comments box  or post it on your blog and link back to this post.

Twitter etiquette for Friday Fifty on Twitter, then don’t forget to use the hashtag #Friday50. Happy Writing!

 

 

The End

 

Grape-Shot: 1915 English magazine illustration...

Grape-Shot: 1915 English magazine illustration of a lady riding a champagne cork From The Lordprice Collection This picture is the copyright of the Lordprice Collection and is reproduced on Wikipedia with their permission Source URL http://www.lordprice.co.uk/Merchant2/merchant.mvc?Screen=CTGY&Category_Code=Champagne (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

How carefully to you plan your endings?   What are the endings we face in life? Are they really endings, or merely commas separating one related series of events from the next?

Do you subscribe to the notion that without a plan, you plan to fail? Or, are you a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-fabulous-pants like me?

 You’re likely asking, “Where did these questions come from?”. An article in the Globe and Mail about endings got me to thinking. I know, I know, a dangerous thing for a delicate flower like myself.

You see, another countdown to holiday time is upon me. I feel my body and mind ache to sit down and write. To edit. To re-write and contemplate.   I know the ending, I know the dots I have to connect in between, but there are still surprises waiting for me that haven’t hit the page yet.  I just know it! 

The article that I read in the Globe and Mail was about Hemmingway’s writing and how he wrote and rewrote the ending to a Farewell to Arms. It explained Hemminway’s  claim that he really didn’t have  structure in mind while writing. The article aslo waxed whiney about how the teacher struggled with student’s who didn’t plot their novels.  Having some experience with this writing thingy, I have my own opinion about it all.  Sitting down to write a novel is not an easy thing. Just sitting down takes discipline, and the voices in my head whisper things like, “Who are you kidding – you’re not a real writer? No one cares about what you have to say. You know, good mothers would be sewing or cleaning or sacraficing themselves in some martyr-like way at this hour for their children. I think that Carlie’s character would do this, but will the reader be ok with that or is it too harsh?”

As a writer, a lover, a friend, a mother, and all of the other titles I own, I’ve concluded that endings are really just middles. After all, what happens next is the karmic residue of seeds we’ve already planted. Whether in real life, or in the stories we write.

The road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions. But, it is a long, winding, multi-forked road with doors that slide in and out, and force us to detour and re-route.  People with carefully plotted out lives generally have wide margins. In other words, they have more cushion in place (socially, emotionally, economically) if something goes wrong.

People with narrow margins on the other hand have either not had a rich environment for development, or have twiddled away their opportunities. People with wide margins feel more in control, and likely will say that they plan their endings well. But do they? Do any of us?

Planning the end of relationships is rarely by design. Usually it comes through unexpected changes in circumstance. Perhaps a lie, a death, or a failure to relate. Planning the end of a job is a bit more within our grasp, but who really ever knows when a great opporunity will pop up, fade away or the  path take an unexpected sharp a turn?

This unexpected journey has been my experience writing as well. I have a sense of where my plot is going, but sometimes the twists and turns are the most interesting and rewarding parts.  What my creative mind cooks up is the yummy broth that holds the meaty bits of writing stew together.

During a romantic getaway in a past relationship, I asked my true love to pull off the road and stop at a winery that was not marked on the regional marketing ‘wine route’. He grumbled and jerked the car to the side of the road pouting because it was not part of the plan. As it turns out, it was a unique “bubbles” only winery, the only one in our province.

I fell in love with the bubbly, and out of love with my spoil sport companion.  Who would have guessed that road held so much adventure and change?  That an unplanned ending ( stopping at somewhere we hadn’t planned) would free me up to enjoy the people and things that make me so happy?

I do wish every one of you wide margins, the security to take chances and to be well. I also wish you grand adventures, so that  the road to your endings is winding, wonder-full and a gateway to something new.

Beach shoes

 

 

 

The Writer vs. The Writing

Halloween Costume 2009

Halloween Costume 2009 (Photo credit: PrincessFroglips)

The first time I realized that some people don’t understand the difference between the writer and what writers write came as a shock to me.

Last year, a  man (why don’t we call him Dick?) I had broken up with read some of my blogs  in a pathetic attempt to spy on me(otherwise he couldn’t be bothered with my writing habit) and was appalled at what he read. It didn’t fit into the loving, domestic relationship we had tried to build.

Dick didn’t understand that I could write about something and not live and breathe and be who or what I wrote. ” I don’t know you,” Dick whined at me, in his passive-aggressive, pathetic way.

I knew it was over.  After all of the time we’d spent together he hadn’t a clue what was dear to my heart. He was right, he didn’t know me at all.

Rest assured my dear ones, heartaches heel and our Dicks fade away. I have been happily writing ever since  my Dick disappeared. Just this week I had a wonderful opportunity to read part of my novel on a radio program dedicated to writers and artists of all sorts. One of the two short pieces I read was a bit racy, but best illustrated the crux of the novel.  “Very risqué,” one of my pals commented. “Very brave,” another piped in. Burlesque was the word that my host used.

The feedback I have gotten since then is quite interesting, some flattering, and some rather questionable.   Just for the record, I do not whore around in back alley-ways, nor do I cavort with my co-workers in a sexual way. I do write about that though.

So, to my radio fans – don’t mistake me for the girl in the alley with her petunia sticking out in the wind. You’re likely to get a slap for your appetizer and your very own teeth for an entree.  You see, despite being a fearless writer, I save my delicate flower for my own, very private life. Be it with  Tom, (not Dick) or Francis.  Those intimate moments of my personal life are shared only with the  wonderful man who shares my bed and my heart, not the pages of my novel.

For those readers who may  have mistaken the writer for fictional characters in a novel, or poem, or  blog, I will clear up the confusion.

Writers write to entertain, communicate information and ideas. In my humble opinion, the best writers write to provoke thought, question our ethics and politics.W riters inspire conversation. Great writers inspire change, courage and social revolution.

Lucy Maud Montgomery did not stroll around with long, braided red locks and daydream her time away. She was Lucy, not Anne of Green Gables for goodness sake!  As far as I know, J.K. Rowling did not fly around on broomsticks and sleep under the stairs. Nor did she wear dorky glasses and sport a cape.

Writers do often ‘write what they know’, as the saying goes, but they are not the characters in their works of fiction. Writers are their own, private, wonderful selves.

Don’t get me wrong, I stand by a lot of the advice I dole out here in my ANDSHELAUGHS boudoir. I also like to tease you with ideas and thoughts. I hope those provocative little stories I tell to inspire all of my delectable, luscious, readers encourage you to be fearless and love the life that you live. No guilt. No regrets

Advice; For all of you readers out there….don’t be a Dick.