Maybe… You Weren’t Rejected

April 12, 2017 Eliza March Leave a comment

From my Editor’s “Sorting Hat”… One thing I’ve noticed is that submitting authors have come to expect rejections. They accept rejection too easily. Even when they aren’t being rejected.

Most new authors have no idea how the publishing system works. They are writers. So now what?

I was fortunate to finally find answers to my questions, and to questions I hadn’t even thought of, with experienced authors at RWA and then at Tampa area Romance Authors, the local chapter I joined, where the wealth of information about the publishing process was invaluable. Gracious published authors like CL Wilson, Julie Leto, Karen Rose, Virginia Henley, Betina Krahn, Terri Garey, Roxanne St. Claire, Kresley Cole, and so many others, gave their time and experience to pull up promising authors. The information and advice they shared helped everyone.

So when I encounter a new author who doesn’t really know how to format her manuscript, or write a submission letter, or know where to find advice, I recommend joining a professional group. In my case I did join a group of writers early on, but they were a mixed group. I write romance and was too embarrassed to read aloud during critique sessions. So without a critique partner I still learned plenty about writing from critiquing other people’s work. I am a reader, after all, and I know what I like and don’t like. Did it drag? Did it grab me right from the start? Did it confuse me? Did I stop reading it? Was the dialogue bad? Were the characters interesting, flawed or boring?

So it didn’t take me long to begin looking at my own work with a discerning eye. I couldn’t seem to cut what I needed to cut. I wrote around passages that didn’t fit to keep them in because I liked the way the words sounded or the illusion they created. It slowed the pace, it didn’t move the story forward or show the reader anything about the characters.

Even when I did find a patient soul or two to critique my work (I can’t believe they are still my friends after all this…) I didn’t want to change it. So where did the manuscript go? I submitted it and got rejections. No explanation of why. But in retrospect you know why, right? All my critique partners were right. I knew it. I just didn’t know how to fix it.

There are plenty of wonderful editors and agents who look at your manuscript and want to publish it. They like you. They like your characters. They like the plot. But sometimes they don’t have the time to fix all the things your manuscript will need to make it a viable published book. If you get a rejection letter with suggestions…your manuscript may NOT have been rejected after all. Do NOT be afraid to ask if you can revise and resubmit. If you are lucky enough to get the okay to resubmit, do NOT rush through it and send it right back. I’d get everyone’s opinion who reads your genre to take a look before you send it back. I’d let it sit for a while after I addressed the obvious concerns. Time is the best judge of your work. If you go back to your book and are absorbed in the story and surprised and pleased with the dialogue and narrative when you reread it, fantastic. I can’t tell you how often I don’t remember writing certain passages, and I wonder who did. I was in a zone, and my muse had completely taken over. It was beyond good. Beyond what I believed I was capable of writing. And then there are the other times when I read a scene and wonder what the hell I was thinking. The sentences are a jumble of crap. I misspell words, misuse words, mix metaphors, write a scene out of point of view…ugh. You get the picture.

Self edit. Gather all the information you can about the industry, the editors, the agents and agencies you want to submit to. If you get your manuscript in front of anyone make certain it will reflect the best you have to offer. If you get rejected, confirm whether you should revise and resubmit or whether your book is not a good fit for the publisher or editor. You want someone who loves your book as much as you do to manage it, agent, editor, or publisher. You want all hands on deck when it comes to producing your book.

I have had to chase after authors who thought I’d rejected their books and explain I want them to fix what I pointed out. It isn’t hopeless. Sometimes, there’s too much story for the length, or not enough. Sometimes the clutter is hiding the magic. That can all be an easy fix. But sometimes it isn’t good for the publisher or the genre line. That may not be fixable. No one benefits if a reader isn’t looking at a publisher or distributor for your book because yours maybe mystery and the reader only reads paranormal. So make sure you are positioning your work well.

I’ve probably forgotten to include a million other issues but I hope you get something out of this post. I’ve been editing for The Wild Rose Press for almost ten years under the pseudonym, Frances Sevilla and independently freelance editing as Maureen F. Sevilla.

When I’m a writer, Eliza March, I am exactly like every other writer. I have a hard time seeing my books’the flaws.

Check out my book, Maximum Impact

writing

Kiss Your Editor Today

April 6, 2017 Eliza March Leave a comment

Of course it’s a love/hate relationship (truly more love than hate on my part). By the time I finish my edits I want to prostrate myself at my editor’s feet and beg for her forgiveness and mercy…and thank her for putting up with me. No, I’m not a Diva. I’m just an author, and I do all the things in my first few drafts that many writers do. I know the rules (and YES there are rules) and the rules are meant to be guidelines to improve the reader’s enjoyment of the author’s book. Do I balk at some suggestions? Yes. Should I? No.

No editor is looking to mark up your manuscript in red just for the hell of it. Any editor would rather pick up your manuscript, sit down with a glass of wine, and enjoy a good book…preferably yours…the one she should be editing…but discovers there’s nothing wrong with it the way it is. She’d rather stay up all night, unable to put it down, and at dawn, realize she’s just finished a best seller, a Pulitzer Prize winning novel…and it’s yours. Not a suggestion to make, not a comma to enter, no exclamation points to delete, not a word to change.

Perfect. But I seldom got a manuscript delivered in that condition. Some were better than others. And I’ve never read or written a manuscript that didn’t need a damn good editor. If every editor only got perfect manuscripts, they’d be out of a job. And when editors write, they are authors and they need editors, too–probably as much or sometimes more than anyone. I’ve had good editors and mediocre ones. If you find a good one–an editor who makes you stretch your limits, dig deeper for the talent hidden in you, forces you to go farther than you intended to go with your story, bow to her glory. She’s a priceless jewel. Acknowledge her. She’s like the hardest teacher you ever had in school, the one who wouldn’t let you skimp on anything because she believed in you. You can hate the work, but value the effort. It’s what will make you better than you ever imagined you could be. Blow her a kiss and kneel at her feet.

Thank you, my glorious editors!

This is for all my critique partners and editors along the way who have put up with my repetitious ways and passive voice and out of POV scenes, and more…so much more.

Uncategorized

How to Write an Opening Chapter

March 30, 2017 Eliza March 1 Comment

I can’t tell you how often I started writing a book only to realize the story really began in the second or third chapter. When I critiqued writers’ manuscripts the same thing happened. If I told one author the book started in the wrong place I told fifty. It’s common to start the story too soon. The process of warming up to your book, getting to know your characters, getting comfortable with all the backstory shouldn’t actually end up in the first chapter. You should know all this before you sit down to write…whether you write it down or mull it around in your head.

So how do you decide on a starting point? Many writing coaches advise authors to begin the story as close to the first conflict as possible. What does that mean?

Put your main character in his/her ordinary world before slamming them into the story conflict. The reader wants to see them react to life as they’ve known it before it’s about to change. And the character could be inanimate like the sea. The sea is calm before it turns stormy. The sky is stormy before it clears. The hero is happy before the day goes to sh*t. You get the picture.

During this short introduction to the main character and the story, we should learn something about her. She could be leaving the house for work, then the cat sneaks out because the door doesn’t close all the way. She’ll have to call her new sexy neighbor again because she’s running late. Worry. He’s going to think she’s a flake or is interested in him. Well she is…both. The rain hasn’t stopped for two weeks and caused the wood to swell. He’s pretty handy around his house. Hmmm. She drops the papers she’s holding. The red ink runs on the pages from the raindrops. She curses the rain, but doesn’t actually use profanity. She says to herself–Whatever…most of the kids can’t read yet anyway.

This is just a general rundown. So what do we learn about her in that brief introduction? She teaches youngsters. Has a sexy new neighbor. Is a little flustered. Has a cat she cares about. Seems nice but realistic. This isn’t the first time the cat has escaped. It’s raining and she is late for work. Hopefully the reader imagined more, too.

Do we want to know more about her? Sure. Are we worried about her? Yes? No? Not yet?

Next. What could happen to hook you so you would want to read more?

From this opening I think the writer has several options to introduce the transition from ordinary world to something happens depending on the genre.

Another woman could leave the neighbor’s house and kiss him good-bye.
Backing out of the driveway, a truck could swerve out of control and hit the heroine’s car.
An alien spacecraft could land in her front yard.
A ghost could pop into her front seat.
Her fangs could descend in jealousy.
Her abusive ex-boyfriend could call.

These are a few options.

But what we decide determines the promise of the book. Here is where the reader figures out the genre, decides whether or not this book might be for them. Your voice (the unique style of your writing) and person, tense, pov, as well as word choices define the book at this point.

In a movie or book, the promise is defined in the first ten percent. Included in the first ten percent will be the locale, the identity of the main cast of characters, the style, the genre, the main characters’ goals and motivations, and ideally, the main conflict. Other conflicts may play a part in getting to the resolution of the goal, but the main conflict should be at least hinted at in the opening ten percent.

Depending on the length of your story, the first chapter may not include all the characters etc. But in the first 200-500 words of any book, the writer must hook the reader. Most readers won’t skim more than a few pages to get into a book. They may skim after they’re curious about what’s going to happen. And different hooks work for different genres. Read some opening scenes from books in your genre and see how best-selling authors do it. I prefer reading examples from their early work, before they made a name for themselves. Those books defined them to their reading audience.

And I know it’s hard, but tighten that opening until it squeaks. Pacing is the rate that the reader is pulled into and through your story. Genre will influence your word choices, but so will pacing. Horror pacing and word choices will be somewhat different from romance, but may be similar to suspense. Give the reader a breather every now and then especially after an exceptionally exhausting scene. The ones when you try to get the reader’s pulse rate going. That’s great writing, but you don’t want to kill your favorite readers.

Please leave me a comment if you found this helpful and if you have something to add, your comments are welcome. Thank you.

View my other blog here Eliza March Writes

writing

Writers Block is a Fallacy. My Story Will Demonstrate Why.

March 19, 2017 Eliza March 1 Comment

This is just my hu

mble opinion. You can write your own blog if you disagree and tell us your story after reading my observations and suggestions.

Here’s how I see it. I’ve had the inability to move forward with a story; sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months, sometimes for years. That’s not writer’s block. It’s a problem with the plot or characters or your motivation. Writing is often work–hard work. That means working through the problems of a story. Not just spitting it out and expecting that all it needs after it’s written is a comma or two in edits. Most stories take at least a little analysis.

What people believe is writer’s block is actually a point when the writer loses direction or interest and tries to force the story. Pantsers or plotters may need to take time to regroup. A plotter will write out the plan or draw a diagram; a pantser will imagine the solution while running or cooking or staring at the starry-night sky. Sometimes it takes minutes, sometimes months for the solution–the ah ha moment–to strike. Sometimes it doesn’t ever come. Why? Because you’re trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

That isn’t writer’s block. It’s a convoluted premise. You imagine the story plot and the characters. The characters don’t always do what you think they will. Why? Because of plot flaws or character
flaws. When you fix one the other will fall into place.

Other reasons writers think they have writer’s block is because they

1. don’t like the plot or genre they’ve chosen to write

2. don’t know their characters, especially the hero/heroine

3. can’t fulfill the story promise

4. don’t know how to fix it

Ask yourself if it’s one of these issues. Be honest. What don’t you like? Get to know your characters better. If the plot isn’t headed in the right direction, maybe you need to look for another way to get to the en
d. In the swamps? Don’t know how to get out? Read a book on craft. Ask a critique partner or trusted reader to review what you have so far. Talk over the character or plot problems with another writer. Don’t feel like you have to follow every suggestion. Sort through them all and find the ones that will help you get past your story’s sticking points.

If you still don’t come up with a solution, it’s best to move on to another project. You have them. Let the other book simmer. Sometimes it will come to you later. Go through your other ideas, preferably the ones that intrigue you. They exist in a phrase you wrote down on a napkin, a title running around in your head, a line from a movie you can’t shake, an impression of a scene you need to write. If you don’t have anything. Change it up–read a book, watch a movie, listen to music, do something different until you find that something. Most of all, even if you’re on deadline, don’t force it. It’s the pressure to write something concrete that stifles your creativity. You think proposals are just that–concrete. Synopses often change when the story is written. All because your experience changes, and how you feel, at any given point, is different. The longer it takes to write a book, the bigger the change.

Personally, my career in writing has changed in the last twelve years because I’ve gone from being a student of the craft to a teacher. Ten years of writing experience and editing has given me an insight I didn’t have in the beginning; so my vision has improved and is continuously adjusting. Gemini was a project I began working on many years ago. I shopped it around and had some interest from publishers, but back then no one wanted to commit to publishing a series. Authors didn’t want to write them for a variety of reasons, and those who did took a risk. My goals changed, my voice changed, my knowledge grew. I stopped writing the Gemini series after doing a proposal for five books; completing the prequel and the first book and beginning the second book. You could say I had writer’s block but, in all honesty, I love this series more than anything I’ve ever written. Why would I avoid finishing it?

Pressure. I want this series to be read. I don’t care if it makes money. I want readers to enjoy it. Talk to me about it. Interact. The industry has changed since I wrote that first book in the series. So now I have a plan and patience.

The prequel will release May 28, 2017. It’s going on Presale March 31st. Sign up for my Newsletter [http://eepurl.com/buCZLf] and I’ll send you the links of where to buy The Gemini Mythology when it’s available. I’ll also have a contest to give away a few copies to five lucky winners on my website at Eliza March. If you’re a fantasy fan of faery lore and mythology, keep your eyes open for Gemini at all major ebook sites and help me reach my dream. Tell your friends about it.

books, fantasy, mythological, paranormal, romance, Uncategorized

Fae Myths of the Gemini

February 19, 2017 Eliza March 1 Comment

the-gemini-prophecy-final-copy The Gemini Prophecy: Psychics and profilers all over the world are being killed. Who or more precisely what is targeting them, and why?

Before the Power of the Light, a modern fantasy suspense and the first book in the Gemini series, there is a long history of life, love, death, and destruction. Without retelling all the ancient tales, this prequel will give you some background into what came before Graeme met Morgan.

Coming this spring.
~~With the completion of the convocation, the fae queen began… “Each Gemini is entrusted with a gift to be shared and passed down throughout the ages, until one day, reborn together, the Gemini will forge the power of the light, the sea, the earth, and the air. I command you to return the elements to the Stone of Fal, lift the Veil, and reopen the portals between fae and earth. This is the promise of the Covenant.” copyright Eliza March, 2009.

As you can see, this series has been a long time coming. each book is a stand alone story, but each tells part of the story about the eventual battle between the Gemini and the Dark Mystics.

Everything begins here, in the ancient past where the breaking of sacred vows to the gods leads to the destruction of the peace between the fae Seelie and unseelie and where mortal’s lives are endangered by those who hunt the Gemini, descendents of the royal fae and ancient druid priests.

Sign up here to get special unpublished excerpts from me and a chance to win a FREE ecopy of the book when it is published.

Meet Morgan and Brianna:

From her place beside the willow in the world beyond the Veil, the white witch Tapestry, weaver of souls, watched the girls run to the top of the hill, heading to the ancient cemetery beyond the old pagan stone circle. Brianna’s red hair reflected sparks of gold as she ran like a rabbit caught-up in the chase, zigzagging, aiming haphazardly for the field beyond. Her coloring reminded her of a druid priestess who one night stood on this same knoll calling down the power of fire and fertility from the gods. The ancient unconsecrated ground held mystery for the girls, but not so for her. After a millennia of existence, the woman knew well the magic here.

Morgan, the raven haired beauty shouted out to her friend, with her head thrown back and her arms open wide, twirling. “Brianna, this is my favorite place in the world.”

Tapestry could barely suppress a cry of delight when she heard the girl claim this place in her heart. Except for her slanted eyes which belied her fae ancestry, Morgan looked so like her druid forefather, her heart almost burst with longing for her own lost love. She sighed as her lips curved into a contented smile.

Ah beloved gods of old , the mortal child has accepted her place here on sacred pagan soil where all her mortal ancestors’ souls lie waiting—here in this long forgotten cemetery—here where it all began.

This old resting place, nestled far behind the new cemetery, was the burial ground accepted by Morgan and her family for generations upon end. They’d avoided the one most recently consecrated by the proud bishop, and fenced beside the church. Her druid forefathers favored the family’s traditional pagan cemetery where they believed the old spirits still danced by moonlight. Here is where Morgan’s father laid to rest, the last druid priestess, his wife, ten years before.

Tapestry hid, concealed in the overgrown vines. Although the limestone church, affectionately known to locals as the Kirk by the Sea, had been recently whitewashed, mildew still raised its grungy head, poking through the white paint, taking hold, thriving from the constant damp of the ocean mist and the rain. The wet season seemed to last most of the year up here on the cliffs. Through eons upon eons of time, this place remained sacred to many races of people. For here in the tumbling stone circle was the last open portal between the mortal world and the Otherworld. Here on the cliff, more than one set of slanted, fae eyes watched from behind the Veil this day as the preordained events of the prophecy resumed. The fate of all the Worlds rested on the shoulders of this child of the Gemini, one in a long line of gifted offspring of the forbidden love between the fae and the druids.

Morgan collapsed to the damp grass, smiling, taking a series of deep breaths, and recounted the cemetery’s importance to Brianna. “This is where I come to be with my family since Mum passed. The old ones are all here as well. Me Mum always said their spirits listened, waiting to be called upon when I had need of them.” She tossed her black mane and gave a quick look back at the church. “And having Jesus, Mary and Joseph right over there in the church, does’na hurt either.” She grinned wide.

Brianna giggled at the heretical remark before she caught herself. Her mouth dropped open in shock when she realized her sin. “Blasphemy. How could you, Morgan?” Quickly, she shushed her friend, tracing the sign of the cross over her torso.

Morgan flopped to her back, laughing, her eyes gazing up into the light streaming through the trees as Brianna pulled the oilcloth covered tome from a crevice in the stone and with slow methodical precision that nearly drove her to distraction, she unwrapped it.

“Go on now Bri, please stop stalling and get on with it. You promised to finish telling me the story of the fae and the prophecy. The day and the place for the telling are perfect.” She snatched at the book and scooted beside Brianna, sitting closer on the grass so she could see the illustrations in the book. But Bri slapped at her hands and backed up.

“I’ll not tell you anything if you don’t show a bit of patience.”

“Come now, let’s have a look. You know how I’ve come to enjoy the pictures.” Morgan seemed to love the description of the fae. “…so breathtakingly beautiful that to look upon them hurt a mere mortal’s eyes’. Ah, I long to see such beauty. ”

Tapestry knew about the dreams and about the boy…the fair beauty of the boy who came to her in dreams, with his pale hair, golden skin, and silver eyes.

Morgan ran her hand over the picture of such a boy in the ancient book and sighed.

Brianna smiled back with an accusatory glance at her friend who usually pooh-poohed romance and took life too seriously.

“Ah, I’ve caught you. Is this a romantic streak I glimpse? Have you one, after all? It seems you do, and now I know your taste runs to fae love tales with tragic endings.”

“Go on with you, I was just looking.” Morgan stiffened and glanced away, but not for long.

Brianna held the tome of ancient myths the girls discovered under the sacrificial stone the previous month. She put on her lecture face and began translating the old language.

“Here in the land of mortals, we sometimes forget there are other planes of existence. But at one time all the Worlds shared doors that opened between them. Anyone who wanted could venture into other realms through these portals. The fae lived in the Otherworld, and they were called the Sidhe, the people of the tuatha da danaan. They held all the powers of the elements, protected and kept them safe in the Sacred Stone of Fal.”

Gemini copyright Eliza March, 2009 No reproduction without the author’s permission.

I hope you are enjoying the little teaser. Now one for the first book in the series.

POWER OF THE LIGHT coming December 2017

“Should the Traighon achieve his final goal and the Dark Mystics succeed in their ultimate quest, the sun will not rise and the rains will not fall and the flowers will not bloom again. All the Worlds on every plane will cease to exist—all will be lost to the blue-green planet.”

There’d been a time when Graeme could have walked the path from the mailboxes to the entrance blindfolded. Closing his eyes, he visualized the area in his head. For a minute he let himself imagine a twelve-year-old Sharon waiting for him on the fence with her legs wrapped around the post, her saucy grin taunting him, and her pale blonde pigtails covered with her red bandana. He tried to get his bearings, then reopened his eyes and started walking. Intuition? Who was he kidding? He wasn’t ready to share his ability with the FBI, but it was more than intuition. His abilities, the ones he never admitted to, were often his best tools.

Suddenly, a familiar flowery fragrance wafted in the air, interrupting his thoughts. A hint of her perfume. Dense fibrous vegetation crisscrossed the old path. Sharon had pushed through somewhere near this spot. A small break in the bushes indicated she made her way past the densest weeds. He followed through the same opening into a clearing on the other side. From there the old path was only a thin visible line in the tall grass.

“Trust your instincts,” the soft voice, not Sharon’s, murmured softly in his mind.

Focusing on Sharon, all he heard was the sound of a beating heart pounding wildly in his ears. Where are you? his mind screamed.

The link they usually shared remained cold. A deadly chill crept up his spine. He needed their old mental link to find her.

“Stop making yourself crazy. Relax.” The familiar female voice in his head was back. At times, he couldn’t separate his thoughts from hers. Mental images from this woman often intruded his own. She’d been his imaginary friend. The Irish girl he’d called Morgan. What had suddenly made him think of her? And why now?

In any case, her presence in his mind strengthened him and forced him to focus. He pulled himself together.

“Track the signs with your heightened sense of sight and smell.” On the right track now, he increased his pace. Observation and evidence, in contrast to instinct, was hard to dispute.

“Do not deny your instincts.” The female voice roared in his mind. “Together, your instincts and observation make you the quality investigator you are!”

Graeme wanted to curse, pausing only when he came to a downed tree blocking the path. Instead, he didn’t waste time analyzing anything. He put both hands on the limb and vaulted over. When his collar tightened around his throat practically choking him., he unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and tore off his tie, picking up his pace.

Despite the sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip, another shiver slid up his back. The shadows and something else in the deep woods kept the air cool.

“Hurry!”

A startled covey of birds flew from a nearby bush. “Damn!” He flailed his arms in surprise, shouting at himself or at them, he wasn’t sure. Graeme repeated the low trembling curse and gathered his fear around him, closed his eyes, and instinctively sensed her path.

A blood curdling scream pierced the quiet forest like a soul-wrenching insult.

“SHAAAARRROOOOONNN!” The cry resonating in his head hurt his ears—but even worse, there was no answering reply. Barely able to catch his breath, his heart pounded harder. His fear slowed his thinking. He took off running, tearing through the dense underbrush, jumping over downed limbs, pushing aside wide branches as if none were there.

“Sharon. Sharon. Sharon.” The drum-beat of her name repeated silently on his lips, a prayer. He chanted the mantra as he fought his way to the cave.

His lungs burned, and every muscle coiled tighter as he ran. His arms pumped like pistons for added speed. But before he rounded the path to the yawning mouth of the cave, the world shifted beneath his feet. Somehow he knew. His best friend was gone. He sensed her life force drain from him and a light went out.

“Too late…” The sympathetic voice ended with a mental sob.

Then Graeme saw Sharon on the ground.

A muscular young man wearing jeans and a black T-shirt kneeled over her body. Blood covered the intricately carved handle of the dagger in his hand, and the rest of the scene played out, frame by sick frame, in slow motion. When he leered at Graeme, his image rippled, warped, and faded, morphing into someone—no, some thing else. A fiend. A daemon. A monster of epic, nightmare proportions.

In the afternoon light, the killer’s skin appeared blue. The image in front of him looked to be well over seven feet of solid, naked blue muscle covered in swirling tattoos. Graeme shook his head and blinked his eyes trying to focus.

The monster’s eyes flashed red. Not blood-shot. The whites were white. It was his irises that were red, blood-red.

Like any rational-thinking man, Graeme’s first reaction was denial. Caught in the illusion, he forced himself to play out the scene and stay in the moment. His mind staggered at the prospect.

The killer smiled. Fangs flashed inside his mouth before they lengthened and he bent over Sharon’s limp body, sank his teeth deep into her neck, draining what blood was left. When he lifted his head, fangs dripping, he opened his mouth over hers and inhaled.

A pale golden light rose from Sharon’s body as the monster took her essence into his own. The daemon turned, leered at him, and tossed the blood-drenched dagger. The blade flipped end-over-end as droplets of Sharon’s blood flew through the air like red mist.

Graeme instinctively reached up and caught the knife, then flipped it into his right hand, and rolled his shoulders. Tempted to let his emotions run wild, his cold professional habits forced him to control his actions. Spreading his feet wide for balance, he flexed his arms in front of him, and tensed for the attack. The muscles in his legs bunched as he assumed the defensive stance.

Gemini copyright Eliza March, 2009 No reproduction without the author’s permission.

books, distractions, writing

Writing when it’s impossible to keep your focus.

February 16, 2017 Eliza March Leave a comment

Expand your methods of upping the word count:

display-dummy-915135__180 In a world where breaking news flashes seem to appear hourly, interfering with those of us whose job it is to create worlds where you readers can escape, we must learn to shut it out. We build places for you to escape to when things get too out of hand in reality–places where you can find a way to shut out the noise.

Often I feel like a warrior guardian protecting the gates to the fortress of my fantasy world from the onslaught of unemployment, and ignorance, and health care issues. No matter the story, my job is the same, suspend reality, and help the reader settle into a new world, with new people and situations, and stay until he discovers a satisfactory solution to the fictional crisis and conflicts.

Our stories begin in an ordinary world just as something is about to change. (that could be every twenty minutes on a Monday if I turn on the TV, radio, or read the news.) So my first rule of writing is the writer has to escape to write the story. Before the reader can jump in and disappear into the new world of adventure, or love, or intrigue of his choice…you the writer must create the story–beginning to satisfying ending.

My solution to writing, for now in this changing environment, (fyi – we are preparing to sell out house) is to write in short sprints to deal with distraction. I’ve never been a sprinter, in real life or otherwise – including writing, but it seems to be working. On days when I’d just as soon give up on a single written word, I can write for ten minutes or for as long as the thought keeps me going. Something is better than nothing. It’s not as if I have writers’ block either, I have plenty of story and plenty of action and characters to write about, but I usually write sequentially and this life of mine isn’t going to allow that to happen for awhile. Having an alternative method of writing when the old way isn’t working is a miraculous solution. This time I wrote the beginning and what I thought was the second act. After getting myself into a corner I backed out and did a story board with an outline. Now as ideas come to me I write the, Scenes get written as I’m inspired. I make notes I need to add, ideas I might want to use later. I keep note cards everywhere. All I have to do now is figure out how to get more organized.

No matter what, I’m adding the good, the bad, and the ugly to my word count daily. I’ve also cut some early concepts and story that won’t work. There was a time I couldn’t do that…or wouldn’t. Now I don’t even save it to my old “golden words” file. It’s time to realize I can write what I need to when the scene is necessary and the words are only golden if they move the plot forward.

So stop being so hard n yourself. Zero words is not failure if you think about your WIP. It’s better to jot down a short sentence or two on a note card and keep it for later so you don’t forget. And…that sentence or phrase counts toward your word count. Hmm 22 words is at least a positive number. During editing I’ve managed to keep a positive flow on my word count, but when you rewrite 12,000 words and end up with 12, 001 it is disheartening. yet still better than 11, 999.

Use a plotting method or storyboard. It is one way of forcing your outlined, laid-out story to grow just because the scenes and needs are there. The ideas already exist, and you just have to fill in the blanks. (You can be artistic and literary later after you get some words on the page.) Go look up some methods. There are a million different ways to research this and increase your word count. Good luck. If you find anything unique, please leave me a link in the comments below.

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A Chance to Win a Copy of My New Release

February 14, 2017 Eliza March Leave a comment

Just fill out this form HERE to receive my newsletter and be entered in a random drawing to win your choice of on fun e of my ebooks. Check out my book list here under the BOOK tab or go to my Author page at Amazon to see all of my books. My new release DIRE WOLF is coming this spring, and I’m giving away an advanced reading copy to one lucky winner

DIRE WOLF

Her aura had never reacted to any man this way.

After the female dire wolf under her protection go wolves-spefx es missing, Laurel Finnegan’s new assignment, vetting the brother, proves even more challenging. He’s everything Laurel isn’t. And everything she wants. Before the full moon rises, she’ll have to test their mutual attraction, find his sister, and keep him away from the other females who will stop at nothing to be the dire wolf’s mate.

He refuses to accept the significance of their mingled auras.

Lucas MacDugal’s family is the last of the pure bred dire wolves and times have changed. So when his sister fought tradition and fled Scotland for Sarasota, he agreed. Now he has to deal with her female security guard. Laurel has extraordinary elemental assets, and is instrumental in deciphering evidence, but she’s also the first female to destroy his self-control. He has until the full moon rises to figure out why. After that, his unusual attraction to Laurel may prove deadly for her.

All the evidence indicates Grace set herself up.

Laurel’s worst fears prove true. The outlying pack land has been infiltrated by rogues from the south. When she discovers Grace’s location and telecommunications fail, she decides to rely on the elemental connection she formed with Lucas.

He’s in denial… But there’s no denying how much she hungers for him, and his lust rises with the waning moon. The innocent female haunts his thoughts night and day. He has to respond. Too many lives are at stake for him to ignore the appeal he can’t resist.

The full moon calls his wolf to action.

Lucas will give up everything to claim Laurel as his, but he won’t risk her life. The fear of losing her drives him to discover the mystery surrounding their irresistible connection.

EXCERPT

To the general public, recognizing the difference between a pack member and anyone else was impossible. To Laurel, especially with her abilities, identifying the shifter standing in front of her would never be a problem. If his piercing pale eyes didn’t betray him, the strange aura only she could see surrounding him was a dead giveaway. It was as powerful as he was. It swirled with earthy, elemental colors, and every cell in her body recognized his presence, their connection. But something else affected her too. She reacted differently to him than she had to other pack member she’d encountered, and her strange reaction made her additionally wary.

Unable to tear her gaze from his, she sensed him attempting to penetrate the blocks she’d erected the moment they’d made eye contact. She shored up her protective wards to keep him out of her mind in case he had other abilities. No one had ever rattled her elemental power until now.

Thank goodness Lucas MacDugal had been through customs by the time he took the tram to the terminal. At least she’d been spared the aggravation of more waiting, and so would he, because the frown he wore claimed he didn’t have much patience left.