What tickles my heart

Here is what I've decided tickles my heart... when someone reads my book and says, "You know, I totally see *famous actors name goes here* playing that character." And the person they name is the person I was imagining in that role! And now how do I get my book published and then so popular that they want to make a movie out of it and actually ask ME who I want to play each role? Hmmmm, I might have to put some thought into that ;)

So there it is, that little thing that gives me writing satisfaction (at least until my books are on the shelves @ B&N and Borders!).

Damaged Goods, Ch. 20

He led me out the door, down the stairs, past the blaring music, and through the backdoor. It was the first time I had been out there. In fact, I remember during the first few days I was here that it must be a mess in the backyard because nobody went out there. I imagined long overgrown weeds and the fence half down. How wrong was I? We stepped out onto a beautifully polished deck with a matching swing attached. This was nothing like the front of the house and I was immediately taken back. There were small lights strewn about, illuminating a Zen garden. Really, a Zen garden! There were meditation rocks and waterfall that flowed into a small pond.

I breathed, “Amazing.”

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“Do I like it? Wow.” I responded.

I saw him, from the corner of my eye, watching me intently.

“Who would have ever thought this was here? And, why doesn’t the family spend more time back here? This is gorgeous.” There were steps off the side of the deck, leading to the garden. “May I?” I asked.

Critique of Damaged Goods, Ch. 5

Here's a great review I received this morning for Chapter 5 of Damaged Goods.  Yea, I'm super giddy today!


Hi again Melanie.

I love that transition in the last couple paragraphs! It's really super!
Also your dialogue is great - each character has their own distinctive language that suits they're physical description - if that makes sense.

Out of all the chapters so far I think Chapter 5 is my favorite. I don't have any suggestions for changes. I can visualize quite clearly what's happening in the story and it's interesting. If I were a pre-teen reading this I think I'd be riveted!

Thanks for the read - look forward to more,
Anne

A sunny November day...

Hey, ya'll (tee hee)... It's November 15th and the sun is shining, the sky is blue, I have a new boss in the office, and I've been slamming daily on the keyboard since the 1st. My story is coming along nicely (we're at the halfway mark) and I'm anxious to get to the end. Send the South Bay Writer's team extra encouragement as we're trying to beat Denver (but there still kicking our butts)!

Will let you know how the month finishes up!

On a side note - I love to lose myself in my characters. I love it when I wake up in the middle of the night thinking, "She needs to be darker." Or, "that character needs a story that explains their behavior." I love to make up their world and everything in it.

Happy Monday!
-Mel

From Damaged Goods, Chapter 7

She held up her arms and declared, “This is it.”

“This is what?” I wasn’t able to hide the confusion in my tone.

“This is the place that we stayed the night the man came for my sister. This is the place we would have come back to had Talon not rescued us. This is the place where the big dreams of Las Vegas die.”

And then she was silent. She didn’t look at the people, instead, she watched me as I watched them. I took in their tattered clothes, their dirty faces, and the sadness in the air. This was not a place I wanted to be now, let alone sleep and live. This is not a place that anyone should ever have to see. After a few moments of silence she said, “Do you see now?”
            “See what?” I didn’t understand. What exactly did she want me to see?

“Do you see why I am grateful to Talon and Lissa? They rescued us from ever having to return to this place, or any other homeless encampment. They are our friends, our family. We all take care of and protect each other. What we do is not wrong. It may not always be safe but it is not wrong. Talon makes sure that we get paid and as such, he gets some of that money. He deserves it.”

“Please, tell me what it is you do to entertain.” It was not a question, I was demanding an answer.

November is National Novel Writing Month

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

November is National Novel Writing Month. I have my outline done, the characters alive in my head, and words ready to hit the paper. The goal? Write 50,000 words from November 1st until November 30th. What does this mean? Well... between Nanowrimo, work, and family you may not hear from me much :)

Have a wonderful month and I'll try to post once or twice!

-Mel

Damaged Goods, Preface

Damon,

I thought about you last night. Actually, I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. But last night I thought about that time at Nona’s farm, when we borrowed her fishing pole. All we wanted to do was catch dinner, to make her proud. What a nightmare that turned out to be. But even after I hooked my finger and sent her pole traveling nearly a mile down river, before we caught up to its mangled remains, you shouldered the blame. You marched into her tiny kitchen and announced that it was you who had broken it. Instinctively, you knew she’d blow a gasket if I copped to it. Even as kids, she so obviously adored you more, even though I was her family. You were so good, the best of everyone and everything. Better things in life was always a possibility when we were together. So lately, I’ve been wondering how it is life can derail someone? Just take then from their perch in life and drop them from a cliff. How it can lead you to believe you have it all and then, from out of nowhere, it’s gone; all of it - the good, the bad, the future. And the only happiness left lives in the past – a past that I will never again know. The one that died, the day you died.

Missing you forever,

Missy

Diving into a new story

So, this morning, I realized how deeply involved I become when writing a new story. I was on the train for nearly 30 minutes before I realized how much I had written (11 pages!). In fact, at the same time I looked up to read the exit sign, I felt the pang in my hand from the fierce writing I had done. I love that feeling. It's like the day after a hard workout at the gym - the good sort of pain.

Currently, I'm writing about Melissa May Clarke, a seventeen year old from a small town in New Mexico. Though she was a good girl, Missy's childhood was wrought with difficulties stemming from her mother's abuse of alcohol and revolving door of men. Her only serenity came in the form of her best friend, Damon. At least, he was her serenity until she witnessed his deadly fall from the McCulley Bridge.

Now, toting all of her memories in the suitcase at her feet, she heads to Las Vegas. But she soon realizes life away from home is scary and hard for a girl without any money, family or friends, and nowhere to live. Missy is quickly pulled into the scandalous world of teenage prostitution when she meets up with a 'family' of other homeless teens struggling to survive.

On being critiqued

Wow, the writing process has been an emotional roller coaster for me, and I am sure most new writers have had a similar experience. The joy of putting the words down on paper, imagining those words being read by someone else, and how much they will love it... only to have them tell you it needs to be improved... Wow, there's the drop on that wild ride. It has been a difficult process for me. I have had a few really good reviews and then one guy really didn't like it. I tried to rationalize and convince myself that he just doesn't like my style. Still, there is something in those negative words that I took to heart and from that have improved upon my story. I have learned that I do tend to be overly descriptive and am learning to tone it down... to let the emotions of the characters speak, rather than describing the emotion. This is a learning process for me and I am trying to stay positive.

Advise... send your work to other 'writers' to be critiqued and not your friends/loved ones. It's much easier to hear the news, good or bad, from someone outside of your immediate realm. And no matter what they say... keep writing.

Damaged Goods, CH 6

He didn’t wait for my answer. Instead, he dropped his credit card on the table and returned to his bedroom. As I stood confused, Amber appeared jubilant, and I assumed it was at the idea of having Talon pick of the afternoon's expenses. I was frozen, staring down at the ominous temptation. It was more than just a credit card, this I knew. It was a promise, somehow. A commitment I wasn’t sure I wanted, but knew I needed. Looking back on it, I can see it was the turning point, the place in which all future choices were based. Amber stared at me, waiting impatiently for my response with a giddy expression on her face. I was in a strange town, in a strange home, with strange people who were offering me a safe haven. I should have walked away, I know that now, but I had no money, no family of any kind and these people were offering friendship and help. It was in that moment, the moment my fingers reached for the silver card, that I heard your faint voice, but it was too late.

The Flower Garden, Chapter 12

Once her face was clean, he dropped the bloody waste into the same trash can that now held her bloodied and tattered clothes. Anxiety kept him steady at her side for the remainder of the night, listening to her melodic breathing and imagining what she was dreaming about. Josh was baffled how, even after the nightmare she experienced earlier, she could sleep serenely. He hadn’t experienced a solid night’s sleep in almost ten years. Night after night, even now at eighteen, the horrors of his childhood crept in. Nightmares for what he had seen with Jane, fears of what his little sister was going through, worried his dad would never bring Evie to Spring Hill and the dread at knowing his grandmother would not live forever. Yes, he was envious of Lizzie Thompson and her peaceful sleep but it was not a jealousy that he harbored for her; rather, he desperately wanted to be near her, understand her and how she could be so calm now. He would never ask her, though, for fear of reminding her of the frightful event.

Following my dream

In order to follow a dream, you must first recognize it is there and then, when ready, you can finally take action. This is where I am today. Well, let me give you a bit of background first.

I love to write. Let me say that again, with meaning... I LOVE to write! I have been writing short stories since I was in high school. Though the tales were my secret and refuge, quite often they scored me 2 points into the trash can, and then I would begin again. This behavior went on for about 20 years until my wonderful husband encouraged me to stay the course and actually complete a full length novel. Today, I can proudly say that I have accomplished this feat.

In February of 2010 I began what would become The Flower Garden, an 85,000 word young adult novel based on the negative internal emotions many young girls experience and how a first true love can turn pain and guilt into courage and love.

So, the dream, MY dream I recognized and with encouragment have poured my heart and soul into. I hope to someday become a working (full-time) author; however, until then I am just so thrilled to put my completed thoughts on paper with the hopes of one day seeing MY name in the bookstore window.

In addition to this completed novel, I have an additional two in the works.
Life is beautiful.
-Mel