A Light in the Darkness

I love to write...clearly.  I just finished my first novel entitled A Light in the Darkness.  It's a Christian Suspense Romance novel about coming to Christ in the face of tragic events.  Here's a taste:

"Her throat started to close. She could barely register the information before a sense of dread coursed through her body, one that she long ago bottled away. She pushed the emotion out of her mind and forced herself to breathe...in...out...in...out"

 Lily Stover always protects her younger brother from harm, except for now. After receiving a phone call informing Lily that her brother suffered from a viscous attack, Lily travels to the Byron Ranch, the crime scene, intent on revenge. Brett Byron, owner of Byron Ranch, insists on teaming up with Lily and investigating together. Reluctantly, Lily agrees but can she trust this stranger? Can Brett break down Lily's emotional walls that she's spent years guarding? Will they be able to find the attacker before he or she strikes again?

If you're interested in checking it out, or buying my book, please just click on the "Buy Now" icon to the right!  I hope you enjoy the story!

Lulu

I want to tell you all about a fantastic website for self publishing.  www.lulu.com  You can do novels, e-books, and it's incredibly easy.  They even have cover art templates.  Just click, drag and you've got an awesome cover!  Check them out!

Rough Draft #2....Getting closer!

I still don't have a title for this story.  I never seem to be able to come up with titles until the very end.  Anyways, I know that one of my weakness as a writer is description.  Basically, I have the tendency to outline my work instead of really taking the time and painting a picture.  So that's something I really wanted to focus on in this second draft.

Oh, and there were a few things that just didn't make sense the first time around.  I had been cutting and pasting from previous drafts and things got kinda confusing, so I hope I fixed some of that.

Also, I'm wondering if Jennifer should even bother to throw a ketchup bottle because while I have seen a plastic ketchup bottle explode on imact when hurled toward a wall, others probably haven't.

So yeah.... Here it is...still a working process, but that's part of the fun!

               Jennifer clenched the ketchup bottle and lifted it above her head.  She focused then hurled it toward her husband who ducked just in time.  The bottle hit the wall with vengeance, popped its lid off and then splattered red across the yellow floral wall paper.  No one took notice.  Robert lunched toward the kitchen table where their dinners sat idly, grabbed the innocent pickle jar in his large hand and aimed.  His eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed and in one swift motion, he hurled the glass jar toward her quivering body.

                Jennifer watched as the jar sailed through the air, but managed to dodge to the ground at the last moment.  Shards of glass rained down on her curled up body.  For a moment, she didn’t move, frozen in the fetal position wondering how things had ever gotten this bad.   

                A grunt of curse words escaped Robert’s lips as he took a step closer, maybe to check on his wife, maybe just to get a better look at her crying.  When she weakly met his eyes, she thought she saw regret, even guilt, in his tired expression.  But it must have just been an illusion. 

                “It’s over.  You win,” he said then huffed out of the kitchen, down the hall and out the front doo.

                Finally.  Seven years of flared tempers and constant fighting finally is over.  She let out the breath she forgot she was holding and began to survey the damage.

                 Suddenly, with a burst of adrenaline, Jennifer gathered up the cold turkey burgers still on the table, the cream plates given as a wedding gift, and the new flatware her in-laws gave as a house warming present, and tossed everything into the trash.  She didn’t want anything left to remind her of their past.

                Upstairs, she found a few old duffle bags and started shoving all of Robert’s hundred dollar suits into the small luggage.  She figured she’d put them on the front porch.  He can stay in a hotel for all she cared. 

                “What else?”

                She smiled wickedly as she entered the bathroom and reached for his toothbrush.  Oh the things she could do with this.  Maybe dunk it in the toilet?  He’d never know.  Jennifer laughed.  No, even she wasn’t that evil.  She put his toiletries in the bag then went into his study.  Piles of paperwork and files covered his desk and bookshelf so much so that he’d resorted to stacking his work along the floor.  She hated his job, how many hours he’d put into it since they got married, and considered just throwing everything out, but hesitated.  After all, the more money he made, the more she could get in alimony. 

                Instead of destroying his work, she started shoving as much as possible into the luggage.  Just when she was starting to feel empowered, a small white envelope dropped to the floor.  Written in Robert’s messy handwriting was her name.

                She let out a sigh. 

                “Probably a birthday card he forgot to give me,” she said remembering her thirty-fifth birthday that came and went without so much as a verbal acknowledgement.

                She picked it up and used her manicured nail to pierce the seal.  As she pulled it out, a small twinge of lost hope surfaced.  The card was beautiful, with a light sky background and a purple butterfly in the middle.  Once, in college, Jennifer mentioned that she always loved butterflies, their beauty, their transformation.  Robert used to decorate paper butterflies and leave them on her shoes so she’d find them before her morning run.  That was years ago.

                “Whoa,” she said, surprised to see that the inside was a solid page of print, handwritten just for her. 

                Suddenly her knees began to shake and she delicately lowered herself to the floor. 

                “Dear Jenny,” she read out loud.  He hadn’t called her Jenny since college.

                It started with an apology, one she never thought she’d get.  He wrote about his regret, pain and sadness for taking his job and leaving her alone so many nights.  He wished he had put her, their marriage ahead of promotions.

                He forgave her for the affair.

                Her heart stopped pounding.  Even though she thought about coming clean, she had never actually told her husband about the affair.  How had he known?

                The black ink on the paper started to run.  She hadn’t even felt the tears come out. 

                “Am I moving out?”

                Jennifer quickly raised to her feet, startled to see Robert standing in the door way, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the duffle bags.

                “When did you write this?”

                He took a deep breath and took a few steps closer to her.

                “About six months ago.”

                “Why didn’t you give it to me?”

                He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.  “I guess I thought it was too late.”

                Jennifer ran her fingers along the edge of the card.  He had a point.  One note wouldn’t erase almost a decade of a terrible marriage.  But maybe, maybe it could be the start of something new, if he really meant what he wrote.  Of course, she had some apologizing to do as well…

                A lump formed in her throat. 

                “No, no it’s too late,” Jennifer said.  “We’ve done too much to each other to just forget.”

                Robert nodded, trying to hide the moisture in his eyes by looking down at the white carpet.

                “I know.  I understand,” he said.  He reached for the duffle bags, his arm briefly rubbing against hers, sending pulses between them.  Jennifer took a step back and watched as he slowly walked toward the door.

                “We made vows,” he whispered just loud enough for the words to reach Jennifer’s ears then fade.

                Suddenly, the relief of divorce was replaced with a heaviness she’d never experienced.  Maybe they were making a big mistake. 

                He looked back to her, searching her blue eyes, but when she said nothing he nodded and turned.

                “Good bye Jennifer,” he said softly.

                “Stay, please,” she said but the words never made it to her lips.  She just stood there, frozen in time, watching the only man she ever loved walk away.

               

Please help me make this story better :)

If you have a chance, please read my flash fiction story and let me know what you think.  I'm a bit stuck and I'm not terribly please with the writing.  I'd like to submit it to a flash fiction magazine, so any input would be great!

Also, if you're interested in writing flash fiction for a magazine check out http://splicketymagazine.com/submission-guidelines/

Oh, and if you don't know what flash fiction is, it's simply a short story that ranges from 500 - 1000 words.  If you want to try writing some and like some critique, I'd be happy to do that for you!  Feel free to send it privately to me, or post in the comment section.

Also, no names in this story relate to actual people :)  They were just the first names that came to mind.

Here's my story:

               Jennifer aimed and then fired the ketchup bottle.  Her husband reacted quickly, ducking his head just in time.  The bottle exploded onto their floral wall paper.  Neither person cared.  Robert reached for the closest object, a glass pickle jar, and clutched it in his large hand.  A small growl escaped Jennifer’s clutched lips.  His eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed and in one swift motion, he hurled the glass jar toward her body.

                Jennifer dropped to the floor with a thud.  The jar sailed through the air and plummeted to the granite floor.  Shards of glass rained down on her curled up body.  For a moment, she didn’t move.  She just kneed on the kitchen floor with her arms shielding her head, breathing deeply. 

                “How did it get this bad?” she asked quietly in a voice only she could hear. 

                A grunt of curse words escaped Robert’s lips.  His heavy footsteps echoed as he headed toward the garage door.  Jennifer looked up and for a moment, she thought she saw regret, even guilt, in his tired expression.  But it must have just been an illusion. 

                “It’s over.  You win,” he said then slammed the door on his way out.

                With those words, her stomach relaxed.  It’s finally over.  Seven years of screaming, cursing, and epic fights are finally over.  Her let out the breath she forgot she was holding.

                She took a moment to finally evaluate the damage.  Ketchup on the wall, glass on the floor, the turkey burgers she made for dinner still sat untouched in the center of the table.  She got the trash can and started throwing everything away, even the cream plates and silverware they received for their wedding.  She didn’t want anything left to remind her of their past.

                Upstairs, she found a few old duffle bags and started shoving all of Robert’s clothes inside.  She figured she’d put them on the front porch.  He can stay in a hotel for all she cared. 

                “What else, what else?”

                She smiled wickedly as she entered the bathroom and reached for his toothbrush.  Oh the things she could do with this.  Maybe dunk it in the toilet?  He’d never know.  Jennifer laughed.  No, even she wasn’t that evil.  She put his toiletries in the bag then went into his study.  Piles of paperwork lined the floors.  Well, she couldn’t very well pack all his work.  He’d have to come back, while she was out of course, and do it himself.  But she figured she could at least give him some of his current work.  After all, the more money he made, the more she could get in alimony. 

                As she shoved the files into the already stuffed bag, a small white envelope dropped to the floor.  She would have just tossed it in with the rest of Robert’s junk but it had her name written on the outside.

                She let out a sigh. 

                “Probably my birthday card he forgot to give me,” she said remembering her thirty-fifth birthday that came and when without so much as a verbal acknowledgement.

                She picked it up and tore the seal.  She pulled out a blue card with a black butterfly in the center.  She always liked butterflies, even as she got older.  Robert used to decorate paper butterflies and leave them on her shoes so she’d find them before her morning run.  That was years ago.

                “Whoa,” she said when she opened the card and saw solid writing.  Not a single speck of white was left.

                Suddenly the card seemed too heavy to bear.  She sat on the edge of the bed.

                “Dear Jenny,” she read out loud.  He hadn’t called her Jenny since college.

                She kept reading.  It started with an apology.  He wrote he shouldn’t have focused so much on his job.  He wrote that he should have realized that spending so much time away would have made her lonely.

                He forgave her for the affair.

                Her heart stopped pounding.  Even though she thought about coming clean, she had never actually told her husband about the affair.  How had he known?

                He wrote that he never thought he deserved her, especially after he got kicked out of college junior year for poor grades.  When he got himself back on track, he just wanted to prove that he’d never let her down again.  Then he wrote that he’d give up his job, the money, everything if she’d just give him one more chance.  He wrote that he loved her, always will.

                The black ink on the paper started to run.  She hadn’t even felt the tears come out. 

                “Am I moving out?”

                Jennifer quickly raised to her feet, startled to see Robert standing in the door way, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the duffle bags.

                “When did you write this?”

                He took a deep breath and joined her on the bed, leaving a large space between them.

                “About six months ago.”

                “Why didn’t you give it to me?”

                He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.  “I guess I thought it was too late.”

                Jennifer ran her fingers along the edge of the card.  He had a point.  One note wouldn’t erase almost a decade of a terrible marriage.  But maybe, maybe it could be the start of something new, if he really meant what he wrote.  Of course, she had some apologizing to do as well…

                A lump formed in her throat. 

                “No, no it’s too late,” Jennifer said.  “We’ve done too much to each other to just forget.”

                Robert nodded, trying to hide the moisture in his eyes by looking down at the white carpet.

                “I know.  I understand,” he said.  He rose to his feet and reached for the duffle bags.  Jennifer watched as he swung them over his shoulders and slowly walked toward the door.

                “We made vows,” he whispered just loud enough for the words to reach Jennifer’s ears then fade.

                Suddenly, the relief of divorce was replaced with a heaviness she’d never experienced.  Maybe they were making a big mistake. 

                He looked back to her, searching her blue eyes, but when she said nothing he nodded and turned.

                “Good bye Jennifer,” he said softly.

                “Stay, please,” she said but the words never made it to her lips.  She just sat there, frozen in time, watching the only man she ever loved walk away.

               

Writer's Block

I admit it.  I'm stuck.  I have no idea why I can't write anything decent.  Every time I sit at the computer, nothing worth while comes out.  It's like my whole body is screaming for me to move and I'm glued to the floor.

I recently read that writer's block doesn't actually exist.  The author of this statement said that it's an excuse to be lazy.  He also gave a parallel example of a brain surgeon, who cuts open his patient's skull, then says he can't go any further because he has "brain surgeon block".  Point being that other professions can't just throw their hands up and say they're stuck.  So why can we?

I don't know if I believe that.  Sure, there are times that I'm just down right lazy, but then there are times like now.  I can't think of a single good idea.  I've been going a bit nuts trying to come up with one decent short story.  Just something to get the wheels turning.

Nothing.

There are suggestions to overcoming writer's block.  A simple search online suggests:
-establish a writing routine
-carry a notebook everywhere and jot down ideas as they come (I do this...highly recommend)
-just start writing and realize it will probably start off being horrible
-use a writing prompt
-change your surroundings, take a walk, write outside
-take a nap
-be patient

Give some of these a try and let me know what you think.  Or if you have a great tip, please leave a comment!

For me, I'm going to go back to sitting in front of my empty Word document and hope that the inspiration starts flowing...

An Exercise in Character Development

Whether you're writing for adults, teens, tweens or kids, you need to develop strong characters.  This isn't the easiest thing to do, especially if all you have is a morsel.  That's usually how I start.  I have some vague idea of what I want my character to face, what challenge I want them to overcome, but the rest...well, it develops while I write the story.  This works some times, but not always, and frankly, I'd much rather have a clear idea of my character before writing the story.

So I'm working on that and in order to start improving, I came across a fun exercise.  Interview your character.  Seriously, pretend you're a  news caster and start asking your character questions. Get personal.  Go deep.  See what your character has to say for him or herself.

Another fun way to develop your character is with a picture.  I did this back in the day when I was writing romance novels for fun.  I cut out a picture from a magazine of a celebrity or model and pasted it on a note card.  Then, whenever I got stuck with character development, I would look back at the note card.  Sometimes, just seeing an image of what I want that person to be like helped get the creative juices flowing.

Have fun with your character development!