Can You Vague That Up For Me?

Bronwyn Green's Random Thoughts

Halfway Through the Year—2017 Goals Check-In

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So…it’s come to this. The halfway through the year goals check-in. Things aren’t…going as well as I’d like.

These were my goals at the beginning of the year:

Get a handle on the negativity that’s seems to be plaguing me.

Do what I can to affect positive change in the world–even if they’re only small things.

Write day and night like I’m running out of time.

However…this is how I’m currently feeling.

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Because everything is chaotic and scary and I’d like that shit to stop now. So…I’m looking for volunteers for this:

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I’m desperately hoping that my end of the year check-in is a hell of a lot better. And I’m also hoping Deelylah, Torrance, and Jess are having a better time of it.

Death, Beauty, and Samantha MacLeod

My friend, the very talented Samantha MacLeod, has a brand new book out, and I’m excited to share it (and her) with you. Using primarily Norse mythology as a backdrop, Sam writes breathtakingly lyrical stories that breathe new and unexpected life into the old gods and the mortals who cross their paths.

Sam was a great sport and let  me interview her, so settle in and take a moment to get to know her a little better.

What’s a typical day like for you?

Right now, Tuesdays and Thursdays are my “work” days. I teach for a few hours in the morning, then try to finish up my grading, and then head to my office (a local Portland coffee shop) for smut writing! I’m with my toddler the other weekdays, which means I can sometimes squeeze in a few hours of writing (if he deigns to nap), and I usually try to spend my weekends outside.

Do you have any collections?

Do books count? 😉

I have way too many books of every genre, and I’m especially pleased with my small collection of antique and vintage cookbooks. My absolute fave is Helen Gurney Brown’s 1969 Single Girls Cookbook: How to Stir up a Little Seduction in the Kitchen, which has got to be the most entertaining cookbook ever published.

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Do you have any hobbies?

Yes, too many hobbies! In addition to writing, I’m a gardener, I fish, hike, and camp, and I occasionally build furniture. I also bake a lot of cakes. Sometimes I even stir up some seduction in the kitchen… 😉

Do you have any bad habits?

Of course not! *wink, wink*

City or country?

I’ve done both, and I’ll side with the country. I like trees more than people.

Coffee or tea?

Both!

I never drank coffee until I was 26, in graduate school, and working in a coffee shop. Now I’m coffee in the morning, herbal tea in the afternoon.

Morning or night person?

As much as I hate to admit it, morning. Yes, this makes me officially boring.

Get things done early or procrastinate?

Hand in hand with being a boring morning person, I do tend to get things done ahead of time. The things that I remember, anyway… I’m 37, and I still have to pull the occasional all-nighter.

Introvert or extravert?

Introvert. Nine times out of ten, I’d rather hang out with trees.

Samantha MacLeod

Proof of that statement. 

What do you like best about writing?

In his fantastic book On Writing, Stephen King describes stories as found things, and he compares writing a story to discovering something hidden, like unearthing a fossil. That’s how writing is for me. I love that sense of, “Oh! So this is what happens next!”

What do you like least?

The paycheck! Ha! *sob, sob*

Do you have a day job in addition to writing?

Why yes, I’ve got several. I’m a part-time philosophy professor, a part-time reading and writing instructor for immigrants in Portland, Maine, and a part-time stay-at-home mom. Oh yeah, and a part-time writer…

What was your favorite childhood book?

Maybe it’s not exactly a childhood book, but I was obsessed with Clan of the Cave Bear in grade school. I dressed as Ayla for Halloween when I was ten (I wrapped myself in towels and carried a baby doll on my back). 

Death and Beauty is another foray into Norse mythology for you. What is it about the Norse Pantheon that draws you back again and again?

I swear I did not set out to become obsessed with Norse mythology!

In part, the Norse myths draw me in so much because there’s so much empty space. We only have two surviving texts about the Norse pantheon, and they’re barely more than outlines; they cover what happened, but there’s almost no character development. Neil Gaiman, in the forward to his recent book Norse Mythology, says it’s almost as if the only surviving record of the Greek myths were the stories of Hercules and Theseus.

So, we’ve still got all the intimate details of Greek mythology. We know Zeus and Hera were unhappily married; we know Aphrodite cheated on Hephaestus. But we don’t have those details for the Norse myths. We know Loki had a wife named Sigyn, but that’s all. How did they end up together? Were they happy? Did they love each other?

It’s those blank spaces that keep pulling me back to the Norse myths!

What do you like best about Baldr?

Baldr, in my story and in the myths, is the guy who has it all. He’s Baldr the Beautiful, the son of the All-father Odin, and he’s also invulnerable. Beloved, beautiful, and impervious to harm…what could possibly go wrong?

In my story, Baldr is a respected diplomat, one of the most important figures in Asgard. But he was never given a choice. He serves his father Odin because he has to, not because he wants to. And he has to die before he can begin to ask himself what kind of a life he really wants.

What do you like best about Hel?

Hel is such an interesting character!

The daughter of the equally interesting trickster god Loki, she has absolute dominion over an entire realm; I’d argue she’s one of, perhaps even the, most powerful female figure in Norse mythology.

Of course, the myths don’t say anything other than, “Loki’s daughter Hel rules Niflhel,” so she’s also a blank space. How does she feel about ruling the dead? Why is she there? And why didn’t she return Baldr the Beautiful to the land of the living?

Those are the questions that drove me to write this story…

What other characters in your story are you especially fond of? Why?

Well, my very favorite Norse god Loki does make an appearance, and he’s much younger than the Loki we meet in The Trickster’s Lover. It was interesting to revisit a character from a different perspective, and at a very different point in his life.

Thor also makes a brief appearance in this story, which surprised me. I think he’s got more to say in the future.

What’s up next for you?

Finishing my next novel!

I’ve got yet another Norse mythology inspired novel in the works. This one is about Loki’s son Vali, who was turned into a wolf when Loki was imprisoned beneath the earth and then vanished completely from the mythology. In my novel he meets Karen McDonald, a wildlife biologist in Yellowstone National Park who’s trying to bury her own traumatic past.

I don’t want to make any commitments, but I’m hoping to have that novel out in the fall(ish)…

Now, let’s check out Death and Beauty.

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Baldr the Beautiful is dead.

Desperate to get back to his privileged role as Óðinn’s favorite son, Baldr strikes a bargain with Hel, the terrifying half living and half skeletal queen of the realm of the dead. He offers her the only thing he’s got: knowledge from the living world. Hel gives him three days. If he can teach her something new, she will return him to the realms of the living.

But the icy Hel seems completely impervious to Baldr’s charms. What’s worse, she already knows everything. By the end of the third day, Baldr realizes he’s only got one chance left to impress her.

Returning to his former life looks like it’s going to depend on Baldr the Beautiful seducing the most formidable woman in the Nine Realms.

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Excerpt:

The branch trembled, making the delicate green leaves and white flower clusters dance. A single petal shook free to sail across the bright blue sky. It was so beautiful, caught in the golden light of late afternoon. I couldn’t understand why someone was crying.

The flower petal tumbled through the sky, heedless of the voices below. I liked it. I liked it all, the bright sky, the white flowers, the audacious little green leaves. I tried to turn and follow the petal through the sky, but my neck wasn’t quite working. It didn’t matter anyway. Soon the brave little petal would be swallowed by the blackness creeping into my vision, turning the sky into a little, shrinking circle, growing farther and farther away, until it was entirely gone—

Darkness. Darkness and voices, a soft rush of motion. Then something harsh and acrid, like battlefield smoke, stung my nostrils, and my head spun. I tried to open my eyes.

“What happened?” I moaned.

Someone clucked above me. “Don’t move just yet, my boy.”

The voice sounded old and only mildly sympathetic. I ignored it, pushing myself up to sitting. My head throbbed and my stomach surged, making me gag. Soft hands grabbed my arm, dragging me back to the bed. Her grip felt weak, but I didn’t have the strength to resist.

“Where am I?” I whispered, once my stomach stopped roiling.

“You’re dead, dearie.”

I shook my head, making the room spin. “No. That’s not possible.”

She clucked again. My eyes were adjusting to the gloom, and I could just make out a hunched figure tending to a fire. “Oh, that’s what they all say.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m—”

“Baldr the Beautiful,” she said. “Óðinn’s favorite son. Yes, yes, we know all about you here.”

“But I can’t die. My mother is Frigg. She traveled the Nine Realms, and everything she found—”

“Promised not to harm you. I know. I heard all about it.”

The old woman turned and gave me a sympathetic, tired smile. She looked like a nice woman, but of course you never can tell. “But your mother couldn’t possibly have gotten a promise from every single thing.”

She hobbled a bit closer to the bed, her arms outstretched with a rough wooden bowl in her hands. “Drink this, dearie. It’ll help.”

I tried to push myself up to sitting. Again, my head and stomach revolted, throbbing and churning. The old woman chuckled sympathetically.

“It takes some getting used to, being dead,” she said. “Tell you what, Baldr the Beautiful. Why don’t we talk about the last thing you remember, hmmm?”

Amazon  *  B&N  *  iBooks  *  Kobo  *  Angus & Robertson  *  Mondadori

Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die.

Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.

Blog  *  Facebook  *  Twitter  *  Tumblr  *  Amazon Author Page  *  BookBub

Wordless Wednesday: Picture a Day for a Week

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When this posts, I’ll be blissfully in the middle of our annual writers retreat, but here are some of the photos I took this past week.

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Loki at the top of the stairs.

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Climbing roses in the backyard.

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A faery and her flying cat – drawn by my son, Corwin.

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My nephew and his baby, King Edward (though some insist it’s Tedward) Burps a Lot.

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My husband and my niece have a mutual admiration society. And my mom has the ugliest (but comfiest) chairs known to man.

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Wedding dress I made for my daycare kiddo who’s getting married next month.

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Flower girl dress I made for the same wedding modeled by the flower girl’s most adorable body double.

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My brother and my niece playing before he has to go to work.

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My friend, Jonesie, and my niece have the same expression.

Okay, so that’s it from me this week. And be sure to check out Kris,  Jess, and Deelylah’s pics, too!

Flash Fiction #60 – Ghosts That We Knew

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Today’s flash fiction was inspired by one of my favorite Mumford and Sons songs, Ghosts That We Knew. Here’s the song if you want to have a listen, and here are the lyrics.

The late evening sun sank lower, barely peering through the treeline as I sat next to the pile of recently overturned earth, careful not to fall into the carefully dug hole. Eventually, some likely underpaid caretaker would replace the sod that had been cut away and plant grass seed when the sod didn’t grow uniformly, but it was too early for that. It was too early for a headstone, too.

I froze slightly as I heard the scuffling of feet behind me and then relaxed as I recognized the shuffling, limping gait. “You should be resting,” I murmured as he sat down beside me.

“And you shouldn’t?”

I glanced at him, his cuts and bruises looking more pronounced, more ominous in the twilight blanketing the cemetery. Though, I was sure I didn’t look any better. That thought was confirmed as he reached out to touch my face then let his hand fall away.

“Your mom made supper,” he said, as if trying to bridge the growing distance between us.

“I’m not hungry.”

“When’s the last time you ate anything?”

I shrugged and stared into the darkening hole.

He reached for me. “Cass–”

“No!” I stumbled to my feet. “Don’t! They’re putting our baby in a hole tomorrow. This hole. I don’t fucking care about food. I don’t care about any one of the well-meaning lasagnas stuffed into the freezer by our well-meaning friends. I don’t care if I starve because at least I won’t be here without her.”

His battered face crumpled and he sagged as if someone had opened a valve and let all of the air out of him. “I’m so sorry. I tried to get us out of the way. I tried,” he murmured. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or me. But then he looked up at me, utterly stricken. “I tried to take the impact on my side of the car, but I couldn’t get it to turn in time.  I couldn’t get it to turn.”

My heart pounded, practically thrashing its way out of my chest as the sounds of crunching metal and breaking glass filled my head, replacing the harsh gasping breaths of my husband, and over it all, I heard the tiny gurgle of sound that would be the last noise our little girl would ever make.

I sank down into the cool grass behind him and wrapped my arms around him and gave in to the sobs building in my throat.

“I promised I’d always be there to protect her.”

I tightened my grip around him despite the pain I knew we were both feeling, and he covered my hands with his. He’d done the best he could. I knew he had.

“I know I failed you both, but please don’t let go. I can’t lose you, too.”

I shook my head, unable to form words as the growing darkness swallowed us. I’d hold on to him. I’d hold on forever.

That’s it for me, today. Here are the other stories. Kris,  Siobhan,  Deelylah, and Jess.

Promptly Penned: Nancy Drew Shenanigans

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Prompt:  “Just call the police. No one has time for your Nancy Drew shenanigans.”

It was only day one of an entire month with my Uncle Joe, Aunt Tami. Hell, I hadn’t even seen my cousins, Joey and Tiffany yet, and I already wanted to scream. I understood that my mom wanted me to have the same kind of close relationship she’d had with her cousins growing up. In theory, it was a great idea. However, reality left much to be desired.

Maybe her aunts and uncles had made better choices than my mom’s only brother had. Even seeing my Aunt Tami for the occasional family dinner made me want to grind my teeth, but an entire month? I hoped my mom was prepared for the dental bills. Or to pay bail money when Aunt Tami had me arrested for throat punching her obnoxious children. I wondered if I’d still be allowed to start tenth grade if I had a record.

We pulled into the drive of their summer home. It was nice enough. And big enough that I had my own room when I was here. And I did like being on the lake. Though, I’d like it better if I didn’t have to constantly babysit Tiffany. She was awfully whiny for an 11-year-old.

We got out of the car and I followed Tami and Tiffany into the house, stopping short when my aunt gasped. It was trashed. There was broken glass and red plastic cups everywhere. Not to mention puke and the occasional candy wrapper and passed out teenager. In fact, Joey was lying on the couch, clutching a mostly empty bottle of booze.

“We’ve been robbed!”

I looked at Aunt Tami, and my mouth hung open for a second or two. “I don’t think so.”

“There’s broken glass everywhere and the whole place has been ransacked!”

I glanced around the room. “There’s empty bottles and puke everywhere. It looks like Joey had a party.”

She glared at me. “He would never!”

Shrugging, I said, “The red plastic cups and and the fact that he’s sleeping with a bottle of whiskey would suggest otherwise.”

“If he’s drunk, it’s because the robbers made him drink it.”

“I don’t–”

“Just call the police. No one has time for your Nancy Drew shenanigans.”

I pulled out my phone and stifled a smile. No cop in their right mind would believe the house had been robbed and Joey was a victim. This month of forced family togetherness just got a lot more interesting.

Okay, that’s it for me. Be sure to see what Deelylah, Jess, and Kris wrote!

Top 10: Way I Procrastinate

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How do I procrastinate…let me count the ways.

10.) Clean. If I need to do something I really don’t want to do, cleaning is a great procrastination technique. Granted, I’m just exchanging one hated thing for another, but that’s usually when my house ends up being the cleanest.

9.) Surfing stock art sites. I’m embarrassed to admit how much time I actually spend looking for future character models for cover art.

8.) Menu planning. It’s a necessary evil because it makes our life run smoother, but it takes forever to do (because I loathe cooking  and shopping) but sometimes I use it as an avoidance technique.

7.) Twitter surfing. I use Twitter like a normal person, and then sometimes I fall into the hole of no return–especially during heavy news days. But then, aren’t they all heavy news days lately?

6.) Tumblr. Dear god…I love Tumblr, but I know that whenever  I get on, I’m not getting off anytime soon.

5.) Facebook. Pinterest. Instagram. Please see above.

4.) Reading. I love stories. All kinds of stories and diving into a particularly good book is a fab way to avoid doing other stuff.  I like to call it market research.

3.) Words with Friends. Despite my children actively lobbying for me to join them in the land of video games, I’ve resisted…except for Words with Friends, though, they’ve informed me this doesn’t count as a video game. But I still probably spend too much time playing it.

2.) Netflix. Though, to be fair, I usually only watch it while I’m doing something else–usually something crafty because I’m incapable of just sitting and watching something. Like it’s a biological impossibility. I just can’t do it. I’m annoying as fuck to go to the movies with, because I’m a foot jiggler. I  jiggle my foot because apparently movie theaters frown on people using their phone for a flashlight to check their stitches while watching movies. Whatever.

1.) All the crafting ever. Sewing, knitting, cross stitching, pottery–I love being crafty, and if there’s something I’m looking to avoid, getting my craft on is the way to do it. I’m not actively trying to avoid anything at the moment, but I am making a wedding dress and a flower girl dress. For a July 1st wedding. Because I’m stupid.

You know…sometimes it’s hard to know whether it’s procrastination or just poor time management skills…

What are you favorite forms of procrastination? And be sure to check out Jess, Kris and Deelylah’s lists, too.

Flash Fiction #59 – Witch

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Tansy’s cell phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her pocket. After reading the text, adjusted the countdown clock.

This was it.

It was really happening.

They were going to do it.

Nervous excitement built in her stomach making her feeling vaguely nauseated as she laid out her supplies in the middle of her living room floor. Salt, crystals, candles, herbs, and her athame.

She glanced at at the countdown clock again. In three minutes and thirty-three seconds, they’d attempt something that had never been tried. Witches from every country–covens, solitary practitioners, would join together with a single purpose–saving the world.

When her alarm chimed, she took a deep breath and  moved to the center of the room and lit the candles.  Gripping the hilt of her blade tightly, she cast the circle, calling to the four quarters and raising the energy she’d need to complete the spell. As soon as she felt the power surging through her, she closed her eyes and focused on the subject of her spell, visualizing him clearly while reciting the words she’d spent the last three days memorizing.

As she held an image of him in her mind, the power swelled as it spread and joined with that of every other witch in the world. The magical current raced along her limbs, leaping from nerve ending to nerve ending, raising hair and goosebumps over her entire body as her heartbeat fell into rhythm and joining her consciousness with the rest of the spellcasters. And still the energy gathered and grew. When it was too vast to be contained, they all released it at once—sending it hurtling toward their target.

Tansy collapsed, breathless to the floor, pressing her palms to the old wooden floorboards as the lingering remnants of magic dissipated. After she’d caught her breath, she closed the circle and extinguished the candles. Before she’d even gotten her supplies put away, her best friend, Diana, had begun texting.

OMG – that was amazing. Did you feel it? Are you as pumped as I am right now?

Yawning, Tansy responded: I’m exhausted. I can barely keep my eyes open. When do you think we’ll know if it worked?

Diana texted back almost immediately. No clue, but you sleep. I’ll call you if there’s any kind of movement. 

Tansy thanked her and curled up on the couch. When she opened her eyes a few hours later, pinky-gray lighted filtered through the window and her phone was vibrating and and ringing loudly, Diana’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“We did it! Turn on the news! Hurry!”

Tansy rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What channel?”

“It doesn’t matter!” her friend crowed. “It’s on all of them!”

Fumbling for the remote, Tansy turned on the TV and squinted at the news anchor. “In a historically unprecedented move, the United States has thrown itself on the mercy of Canada, granting Prime Minister Trudeau governing responsibilities until the results of the 2020 election are in.”

The camera cut to a smiling Justin Trudeau. “Okay, healthcare’s been sorted. Now, let’s see what we can do about that climate agreement.”

Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ takes on this image. Siobhan, Deelylah, Kris, Gwen, and Jess.

An app mysteriously appears on your phone and does something amazing. What does it do?

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Any time a politician betrays the ideals of our nation, (points if you heard that in Daveed Diggs’ voice) the app updates with one of those annoying little red numbers. In order to make the number go away, you have to open the app and hit the eject button. This jettisons the greedy, self-serving, treasonous assholes deep into into space where they’ll get exactly what they deserve.

Let’s see what kind of apps the other bloggers discovered on their phones. Deelylah and Kris (and Jess, too!)

Monthly Goals Check-In: May 2017

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This month…

I am so done with it, and I don’t even know where it all went. Much of it has been lost to stress, anxiety, and depression. This does not make for good goal fulfillment.

Let’s take a look at the goals I set for May, shall we?

Revise and re-release at least one of my stories that I have the rights back on. (Nope. But I did get an utterly gorgeous new cover that I can’t wait to share.)

Progress on RP. (Yes.)

Progress on TFAD (If we can count progress as I have more of an idea for this thing than I did last month, we can call it yes.)

Complete 7 client edits. (4 down, 3 to go – but I still have a few days left.)

Complete all May blog posts. (Yep.)

Progress on 4 client websites. (3 out of 4.)

Complete the 7 sewing projects I owe people. (1 out of 7, but I still have a few days.)

Begin deconstructing and reconstructing wedding dress. (Dress is deconstructed and is in the process of being reconstructed.)

Read some more. (Yep. Holy shit, Jonathon Strange and Mr Norrell is bizarre but delightful. 

Okay, for June I’m going to:

Do all the June blog posts.

Finish the wedding dress and make a flower girl dress.

Progress on RP

Progress on TFAD

Revise and re-release at least one of my stories that I have the rights back on.

Go on our annual writers retreat and laugh myself stupid and write all the words.

Write a wedding ceremony.

Go check out the other bloggers and see how they did. Hopefully, it was better than me. Jess and Deelylah.

Favorite Writing Advice

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Advice is a lot like music. Or styles of underwear. Use what works for you, and leave the rest behind.

Obviously, I can’t tell you what’ll work for you, I can only share what’s worked for me, but look around. You might find something you like. Try it on. See how it fits. If you like it, it’s yours.

So, these are my favorite bits of writing advice.

Emotional Meat Grinder – The first book I ever finished had zero conflict, and my very wise forever-friend, Alex Kourvo told me that it doesn’t matter how much I love my characters, I still have to grab them by the back of the head and shove them face-first into an emotional meat grinder and make their lives hell. Then, when it’s really bad, I need to make it worse.

Write What You Love – There are some people who advocate writing whatever’s popular in hopes of riding genre coattails to fame and fortune. Here’s the thing about that. If it’s not a genre or subgenre you truly enjoy, it’ll show. I saw it often in when I edited for small presses, and I still see it now with my editing business.  If you’re writing something in hopes of a paycheck instead of writing it because you love whatever it is, it’ll never be as good or satisfying for you or the reader than if you’d written something you were passionate about.

Who Has the Most to Lose? – Someone in a long ago and far away critique group had some brilliant advice about POV (point of view) that’s stuck with me to this day. When you’re writing a story with multiple narrative POVs, you’ll have to decide whose POV each scene should be in. Ask yourself who has the most to lose. Who has the most to lose physically? Who has the most to lose emotionally? (Especially emotionally.) Nine times out of ten, the character with the most at stake (in the moment) is the POV you’re going to want to write that scene from.

If You Want to be a Writer, You Need to Make Writing a Priority. – (Full disclosure: I can’t remember who said this to me–in reality, lots of people–but I have to remind myself of it on the regular. Sometimes daily. Sometimes all day long.) This isn’t to say that life–the busyness that comes from living and interacting with other people, a day job, and the world at large–can just be ignored. But if you’re finding it hard making time to write, you may have to take a long hard look at how you’re spending your time and decide where you can cut back to make room for more writing time. Also, make use of whatever tiny pockets of time you have.

Please note, I’m not including depression or other illnesses in the list of busyness. Those are a whole n’other ballgame. But as someone with multiple mental and physical health bullshit going on, I’m reminding you to be gentle with yourself. Constantly beating yourself up isn’t going to suddenly make you more productive. Trust me…I know intimately of which I speak. Be gentle with yourself. Accept help when it’s offered. Ask for help when you need it.

Trust the Story. – Background to this. It’s a paraphrased Neil Gaiman quote. More backstory. Jess Jarman, Kris Norris and I have had a three way text chat going on for almost four years, now. It’s incredibly rare that a day passes that we don’t text each other. I came across this Gaiman quote: “Trust dreams. Trust your heart, and trust your story.” and shared it with them because I loved it so much.

While we were all working on newer to us genres and sort of stepping into the literary unknown (for us anyway) of self-publishing, we were having a lot of of doubt. Certainly, self-doubt, but also story doubt. We’re all mostly pantsers as opposed to plotters, and we’d often find ourselves second-guessing where the characters and the plots were heading because it wasn’t where we’d thought they’d be going. When that happened (and still, today, when it happens) we always tell each other, “Trust the story.”

Thus far, trusting the story and going with my gut has worked beautifully, and it’s brought me to places I hadn’t had any intention of going, but the books are better for it. I’m sure that one day, it might backfire and I’ll end up with a mass of revisions, but so far, this works for me, and I’m going to keep doing it.

Do you have any writing advice you swear by? What is it? Be sure to go check out the other bloggers’ favorite writing advice. Jess, Gwen, Jessica, and Deelylah.

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