There are times when my confidence falters. Especially where writing is concern. I start to second-guess myself, wondering why I slave on a story that will go no where and no one to read.
I never seen myself as much of an author or story-teller, like the ones I read and enjoy.
Yes, there are acquiantances and few friends who think I'm the greatest writer, but sometimes you just get the feeling all that is false praise to keep from hurting your feelings.
I try not to pester others about my story or insist that they read it. The option is always theirs. Why only a few have read it because they asked.
There is only one place I tend to post all my rough drafts and writings. It's a yahoo group called The Modern Day Bards, and of late, I am the only person who posts. If they read my ramblings I don't know...
But I also send another draft to another friend; she had voiced an interest, and the way I figured, if she did not want to read it, there is always the handy delete button. It's her option and I will not hound by asking "Did you read it."
She's also very finicky about grammar and punctuation. So if i fuck up somewhere I know that she would point it out. Plus she's an avid reader, and so she would know if the story or scene flows.
So it was up-lifting, when doubt began to creep into my conscious, I wonder why I was even trying to write everyday, that my words were crap, the story was pointless and basically dumb... and you don't say a word about this to anyone, so then out-of-the-blue, a friend tells you..
"Oh yeah I had question about that latest piece you sent me." Which makes you shocked to know THEY did read it. Then "You're doing great. The story is coming along nicely, it flows. Keep up the good work."
Just does wonders to restore a flagging confidence.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Cold Weather - Startling Discovery about my WIP
It appears that cooler weather has came with a vengenance. For some they are pleased and happy by this, and then there are others that dread it.
"I" am apart of the latter. Why my apathy for cold and winter? Really I can not say. Funny, because my mawmaw (Alice Denton) use to entertain me with stories on how as a tike I loved the cold and cried when the snow melted.
She and now my pawpaw shall be remembered this Samhain.
My Work In Progress "Warrior of the Moon" (tentative title for now), I use to stumble on how best to describe the story for those who were curious. Well, the other day while watching the 1980 British Robin of Sherwood (The first disc; I loved this show as a teen), it struck me how similiar in certain ways to my story.
Warrior of the Moon has a thieving band who live (and thrive) in the forest. The leader of this band has a hefty price on his head, and he robs caravans who dare come through the forest.
See the similiarity there? Heheh. I can not say it was intention since Rhaedayel, the leader of this band is not my character but on loan to me from a friend of mine. Rhae and his thieving band is all her construct.
Mine was just supplying a name to the forest they inhabited, along with the heroine, temple, and such. When I brought the similiarites up to my friend, even she was amused by it.
More on the similiarities. In Robin of Sherwood, Marian was on her way to the Abbey to become a Novice. In Warrior of the Moon, Eriea was raised in the temple dedicated to the elven goddess of Moonlight (Sehanine Moonbow) and ascented to a paladin. Another similiarities - Both Marian and Eriea are "noblewomen."
Now the differences - We start with Eriea - the main heroine of my WIP. She's an empath who had been mentally and emotionally abused by her uncle, and thus to please him she repressed her elven heritage.
Yes, Eriea is 1/4 moon elven (I could never do the math. Her father was a half breed, and her mother was full mortal). She bares some of her elven heritage like the slight slant to her mood-changing purple eyes, and the point to her dainty little ears.
The differences with Rhaedayel and Robin - Where Robin stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Rhaedayel tended to keep what he stole from the caravans to feed and take care of his band who looked toward him for guidance.
Not sure about Robin Hood, but Rhaedayel is a known wastrel, seducer of women. There is no Sheriff of Nottingham, but Rhaedayel can not enter several of the cities around the forest due to the bounty of his head.
The main difference is the worlds. Warriors of the Moon takes place in a world that me and two friends pieced together. They had realms they had designed and created, and so we meshed them into one world: Feiden.
This world has unicorns, elves, dragons, etc.
But, those are the similarities that had came to me. Ahh, another difference is how Rhaedayel and Eriea met. Eriea was found wounded in the forest where Rhae found her, and she was meant to be the rogue's latest conquest...
Heh heh heh what he did not expect was her resistence and the challenge she presented. Eriea held herself aloof, an ice shell, as she spoke in a cool monotoned voice, and did not fall easy with his charm.
* Sighs * This is the one story I always keep coming back too. I just love mapping and thinking of their story. I've had many people express a liking to the story, one said something about it enthralling her.
I need to work out steps to coax my muse back, to bring the words back to my soul, to direct those words from my brain to my fingers to put it on page. I really want to complete this story so I could venture out on other stories in me.
Do I want to be publish? Will the story sell? Honestly I don't know. I know that I don't have the thick skin to handle rejections. I've grown up with rejection after rejection, and you would think I grew accustomed to it.
Well I have not. However, if someone liked it enough to want to publish it, I know I would have to change the pantheons I used due to them being Dungeons and Dragons. Then maybe I'd consider it.
Will the story sell? Again, I am not sure. Selling a book is not the reason I continue to write. I write because of how active my imagination can be, and if I brought a measure of joy, contentment to a reader, then I'm happy to know they enjoyed the characters just as I did!
"I" am apart of the latter. Why my apathy for cold and winter? Really I can not say. Funny, because my mawmaw (Alice Denton) use to entertain me with stories on how as a tike I loved the cold and cried when the snow melted.
She and now my pawpaw shall be remembered this Samhain.
My Work In Progress "Warrior of the Moon" (tentative title for now), I use to stumble on how best to describe the story for those who were curious. Well, the other day while watching the 1980 British Robin of Sherwood (The first disc; I loved this show as a teen), it struck me how similiar in certain ways to my story.
Warrior of the Moon has a thieving band who live (and thrive) in the forest. The leader of this band has a hefty price on his head, and he robs caravans who dare come through the forest.
See the similiarity there? Heheh. I can not say it was intention since Rhaedayel, the leader of this band is not my character but on loan to me from a friend of mine. Rhae and his thieving band is all her construct.
Mine was just supplying a name to the forest they inhabited, along with the heroine, temple, and such. When I brought the similiarites up to my friend, even she was amused by it.
More on the similiarities. In Robin of Sherwood, Marian was on her way to the Abbey to become a Novice. In Warrior of the Moon, Eriea was raised in the temple dedicated to the elven goddess of Moonlight (Sehanine Moonbow) and ascented to a paladin. Another similiarities - Both Marian and Eriea are "noblewomen."
Now the differences - We start with Eriea - the main heroine of my WIP. She's an empath who had been mentally and emotionally abused by her uncle, and thus to please him she repressed her elven heritage.
Yes, Eriea is 1/4 moon elven (I could never do the math. Her father was a half breed, and her mother was full mortal). She bares some of her elven heritage like the slight slant to her mood-changing purple eyes, and the point to her dainty little ears.
The differences with Rhaedayel and Robin - Where Robin stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Rhaedayel tended to keep what he stole from the caravans to feed and take care of his band who looked toward him for guidance.
Not sure about Robin Hood, but Rhaedayel is a known wastrel, seducer of women. There is no Sheriff of Nottingham, but Rhaedayel can not enter several of the cities around the forest due to the bounty of his head.
The main difference is the worlds. Warriors of the Moon takes place in a world that me and two friends pieced together. They had realms they had designed and created, and so we meshed them into one world: Feiden.
This world has unicorns, elves, dragons, etc.
But, those are the similarities that had came to me. Ahh, another difference is how Rhaedayel and Eriea met. Eriea was found wounded in the forest where Rhae found her, and she was meant to be the rogue's latest conquest...
Heh heh heh what he did not expect was her resistence and the challenge she presented. Eriea held herself aloof, an ice shell, as she spoke in a cool monotoned voice, and did not fall easy with his charm.
* Sighs * This is the one story I always keep coming back too. I just love mapping and thinking of their story. I've had many people express a liking to the story, one said something about it enthralling her.
I need to work out steps to coax my muse back, to bring the words back to my soul, to direct those words from my brain to my fingers to put it on page. I really want to complete this story so I could venture out on other stories in me.
Do I want to be publish? Will the story sell? Honestly I don't know. I know that I don't have the thick skin to handle rejections. I've grown up with rejection after rejection, and you would think I grew accustomed to it.
Well I have not. However, if someone liked it enough to want to publish it, I know I would have to change the pantheons I used due to them being Dungeons and Dragons. Then maybe I'd consider it.
Will the story sell? Again, I am not sure. Selling a book is not the reason I continue to write. I write because of how active my imagination can be, and if I brought a measure of joy, contentment to a reader, then I'm happy to know they enjoyed the characters just as I did!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Happy First Birthday Warlock
This is Warlock, our red and black toy miniature dachshund. Yes, he is considered the King of the household (while his half sister Cynder is the Diva Queen)
Just does not seem possible my little baby turned one years old. It feels like the hubs brought his tiny self (and I mean tiny) home to us. The poor little guy missed his doggie momma and littermates.
As this picture shows, it's very hard to get laundry folded around him and his half sister Cynder (they share the same daddy).
This happens a lot when folding clothes but you can't really complain when they look so damn adorable.
Ack! Hide, it's something that Rao wrote!
LOL... Well I had this idea about a cruel desert king who only fathered daughters and killed his four wives when they failed to birth him one. All for role playing purposes with my friend.Talking with a friend, well got the idea that one would be apart of a rebellion. This came to me at two/three o'clock, so yeah it's not all that great.
A shapeless apparition parted away from the inky blackness created from the palace’s wall. It moved with swift purpose further away from the grand construction of the royal Asalah family, away from possible detection of the Zaim’s guards and deeper in the myriad maze of the city.
Once the figure ascertained none noticed her absence inside the palace walls did she throw back the dingy brown cowl covering her face and hair. The murky light of the lanterns did nothing to illuminate the inhabitants on Dunyana’s streets and kept her person well hidden from casual observers.
Jawl inhaled deep the sense of freedom her sojourn awarded, to be free, if only for a couple of stolen hours, from her vile father’s tyranny. Burnt-orange eyes peeked behind her to the sleek wall she would have to scale later to return to her gilded cage, to once more be subjected to Zaim Asalah’s oppression and merciless machinations.
Hatred burned hot and fierce through her veins. Zaim Barid ruled his house much like he did his realm with a heavy, ruthless hand. His four wives were put to death because they failed to produce the male child he needed to inherit.
Because of him she had been denied a mother’s care, attention and love.
“Tsk, tsk,” the soft, sardonic masculine sound came to her immediate right. Jawl startled, her breath stuttering deep in her breath. Her immediate thought was that her father’s guard finally caught up with her nightly jaunts.
The shape of a brawny and tall man, the types her father employed to keep his precious tools (her and her sisters) safely ensconced inside the palace, waiting for him to decide their fates. Jawl gulped her brunt-orange eyes wide when the man came closer.
She would not debase herself with begging.
“The daughter of a Zaim,” the man drawled in his low voice, “taking such risks. Uncalled for.”
That voice was the most beautiful sound to ever grace her ears. Jawl’s slender shoulders briefly sagged in her blatant relief. Then, once she regained her composure and her heart beat returned to normal, did she square her shoulders and confront him.
“I took the risk,” she announced proudly with a haughty lilt, “to release you from Barid’s dungeons.” And never once regretted the decision. His incarceration and torture freed Jawl from the fear her father used to control all his daughters.
One look from his pain-clouded eyes, the misery etched in every line on his handsome face, convinced Jawl, no matter the cost, she had to release him. Barid would, learning of her willingly to lie and consort with this very man, gladly gift her to the Sakothan king he called ally.
“Of that,” Shahin’s voice softened to the barest whisper, his fingertips grazing gently across the velvet softness of her cheek, “I am eternally grateful.”
A shapeless apparition parted away from the inky blackness created from the palace’s wall. It moved with swift purpose further away from the grand construction of the royal Asalah family, away from possible detection of the Zaim’s guards and deeper in the myriad maze of the city.
Once the figure ascertained none noticed her absence inside the palace walls did she throw back the dingy brown cowl covering her face and hair. The murky light of the lanterns did nothing to illuminate the inhabitants on Dunyana’s streets and kept her person well hidden from casual observers.
Jawl inhaled deep the sense of freedom her sojourn awarded, to be free, if only for a couple of stolen hours, from her vile father’s tyranny. Burnt-orange eyes peeked behind her to the sleek wall she would have to scale later to return to her gilded cage, to once more be subjected to Zaim Asalah’s oppression and merciless machinations.
Hatred burned hot and fierce through her veins. Zaim Barid ruled his house much like he did his realm with a heavy, ruthless hand. His four wives were put to death because they failed to produce the male child he needed to inherit.
Because of him she had been denied a mother’s care, attention and love.
“Tsk, tsk,” the soft, sardonic masculine sound came to her immediate right. Jawl startled, her breath stuttering deep in her breath. Her immediate thought was that her father’s guard finally caught up with her nightly jaunts.
The shape of a brawny and tall man, the types her father employed to keep his precious tools (her and her sisters) safely ensconced inside the palace, waiting for him to decide their fates. Jawl gulped her brunt-orange eyes wide when the man came closer.
She would not debase herself with begging.
“The daughter of a Zaim,” the man drawled in his low voice, “taking such risks. Uncalled for.”
That voice was the most beautiful sound to ever grace her ears. Jawl’s slender shoulders briefly sagged in her blatant relief. Then, once she regained her composure and her heart beat returned to normal, did she square her shoulders and confront him.
“I took the risk,” she announced proudly with a haughty lilt, “to release you from Barid’s dungeons.” And never once regretted the decision. His incarceration and torture freed Jawl from the fear her father used to control all his daughters.
One look from his pain-clouded eyes, the misery etched in every line on his handsome face, convinced Jawl, no matter the cost, she had to release him. Barid would, learning of her willingly to lie and consort with this very man, gladly gift her to the Sakothan king he called ally.
“Of that,” Shahin’s voice softened to the barest whisper, his fingertips grazing gently across the velvet softness of her cheek, “I am eternally grateful.”
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Seduced by a Stranger - Eve Silver - Book Review
Eve Silver's latest Gothic- Historical Romance - Which I will freely admit, here and now, that I could not wait to get my greedy paws on, and so, when my mother gave me twenty dollars for my birthday (Labor Day and Eve thanks for the birthday wishes!), this was one of the books I had in mind to buy!Warning, I am not a very good book reviewer. So any possible spoilers I may drop, I apologize now.
Eve’s books were my very first foray into the dark, gothic-historic romance genre. Oddly enough, it was another birthday of mine, a belated birthday gift from my hubs, that I had bought my first Silver book. After reading that first taste of her writing style (with the vivid words she uses the scenes and characters are painted in the mind's eye), you find that you want to read another; however, what I tend to like most about Eve’s books - not only the way she weaves the tale, making you nibble on your bottom lip to find out what happens next, and with the clues she leaves of the mystery entwined, you’re mind is whirling to process and figure out who is behind the dastardly crime- are her characters.
No, Eve’s characters are not by far labeled "perfect". They have flaws that add to the depth of their character. I profess, I have a thing for "the wounded hero" type of stories, that she extended that to include the "heroine" really appeals to me.
Catherine and Gabriel (by the way I love that name, maybe I’m prejudice because that is my youngest son’s name) are both "the tortured" types, they seem to be molded, shaped by their dark past/histories and trying desperately to move beyond it‘s gripe.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Another Birthday done and gone
Another birthday has come and gone.
For those curious, yes, I had a pretty decent/good day. What did I do on my birthday? Not a damned thing. LOL. Heheh. I had expected to be woken up by my mother calling. So when I eventually woke about eleven to noon, with no messages on the answering machine, it felt incredibly odd.
My mother is predictacle on phoning me, EARLY in the morning, to wish me a Happy Birthday. You can say that it became a tradition since I moved out, so I come to expect it every year.
Next thought to enter my head was: check my cell phone for texts. With my zanny and crazy minion friends and other pals, you never know WHAT to expect on texts, phone calls, emails, or IMs. Well, I had to chase my two oldest boys off the computer to look for my cell on the desk.
It was not where I last left it only to find the boys had knocked it on the floor. Lovely. What more, I had not one or two missed calls but SIX!. To add onto that, someone turned my ringer down to two which explains why I did not hear it ring.
My oldest goes "Oh, I heard your cell ring and ring and ring. I checked the ID and it said 'Mom's cell'. I didn't want to disturb you or get off the internet." Their father let's them run hilter skilter especially on MY computer. All six calls were from mom; she atleast left two voice mails.
After several failed attempts to return her call with no answer, I decided to hop on-line to shoot the breeze and check email. Friends IMed me, emailed me, left little love notes on my facebook, myspace and other places with birthday wishes.
Oh yeah... Stormee called me at nine/ten o'clock to wish me a Happy Birthday. I couldn't answer the phone because when the hubs was moving things Saturday, he knocked the phone on the floor, it's battery guts going everywhere. Hell the phone was on it's last legs anyways..Now the receiver part doesn't want to keep charged. So I had to IM her on facebook to let her know.
Gotta get a new phone with caller ID and answering machine just so I don't have to answer the phone with telemarkers and his family. Yes, I know I'm terrible * grins hugely*
Hubs *gasps* cooked. The day before, Sunday, he baked a German Chocolate Cake, but "I" had the ice the thing. Yeah, isn't that soo wrong to have to ice your own cake. He's sucking up badly...
Perhaps it sunk into his head finally. How he treats me on my birthday is how he'll get treated on his (nine days after mine) - and yes, I'm that vendicative. If he wants a cake for his birthday, then he needed to make/buy one for me. Him over excerting himself on baking the cake especially getting the boys in on it told me he wants this one cake I make now and then he loves.
Since his stupid job went from weekly to bi-weekly, I knew we couldn't do anything or expect anything until his next payday which is Friday. Today he was asking what I would want. All he needs to do is set me loose in Borders. Books is always a safe bet with me. I've been salivating over the dark hunter manga!!
What did I get asides from many and many well-wishes? Sorry, not gonna list all who wished me a happy birthday because I know I'd forget some, and well I really don't wish to offend them. They know who they are!
Got birthday cards from Sherry Spradlin and Deann (D's came in today, pretty purple colors! Beautiful). Anime sent me a black T-shirt and bitchin' sunglasses (to replace his old ones that mysteriously broke) for my Build-a-Bear Dev and chocolate bar with a bear on the top. Squee!
Why a black shirt for my Dev? My hubs griped and bitched that Dev, in the books, does not wear a white shirt with the Sanctuary, Home of the Howlers. That his shirt is black... So she remembered me complaining on what my hubs said. Pfft. Whenever I get to go to another signing I want her to sign the shirt.
But yeah, I gotta re-read Bad Moon Rising for what his black shirt says to make an iron-on.
Mom sent me a birthday card with a twenty dollar bill in it. Book money! Muahaha. Oh oh oh! Today I just checked my deviant and Y accounts, and an art friend (Iz) drew me a picture of her character (he's my fav!) with nothing on but a ribbon. http://isadora-legata.deviantart.com/art/Happy-Birthday-to-Rao-136310931
What else... Oh! Hehe, received an email from Bittenbybooks, on my birthday, stating that I had won the Diva bracelet on their contest from Adele Dubois.
Overall the day was pretty nice, hanging out with my children, hubs, and on-line friends. Thanks again for all the warm well wishes!!! Lubs you all! Now I'm gonna go listen to Inkubus Sukkubus's Viva La Muerte.
For those curious, yes, I had a pretty decent/good day. What did I do on my birthday? Not a damned thing. LOL. Heheh. I had expected to be woken up by my mother calling. So when I eventually woke about eleven to noon, with no messages on the answering machine, it felt incredibly odd.
My mother is predictacle on phoning me, EARLY in the morning, to wish me a Happy Birthday. You can say that it became a tradition since I moved out, so I come to expect it every year.
Next thought to enter my head was: check my cell phone for texts. With my zanny and crazy minion friends and other pals, you never know WHAT to expect on texts, phone calls, emails, or IMs. Well, I had to chase my two oldest boys off the computer to look for my cell on the desk.
It was not where I last left it only to find the boys had knocked it on the floor. Lovely. What more, I had not one or two missed calls but SIX!. To add onto that, someone turned my ringer down to two which explains why I did not hear it ring.
My oldest goes "Oh, I heard your cell ring and ring and ring. I checked the ID and it said 'Mom's cell'. I didn't want to disturb you or get off the internet." Their father let's them run hilter skilter especially on MY computer. All six calls were from mom; she atleast left two voice mails.
After several failed attempts to return her call with no answer, I decided to hop on-line to shoot the breeze and check email. Friends IMed me, emailed me, left little love notes on my facebook, myspace and other places with birthday wishes.
Oh yeah... Stormee called me at nine/ten o'clock to wish me a Happy Birthday. I couldn't answer the phone because when the hubs was moving things Saturday, he knocked the phone on the floor, it's battery guts going everywhere. Hell the phone was on it's last legs anyways..Now the receiver part doesn't want to keep charged. So I had to IM her on facebook to let her know.
Gotta get a new phone with caller ID and answering machine just so I don't have to answer the phone with telemarkers and his family. Yes, I know I'm terrible * grins hugely*
Hubs *gasps* cooked. The day before, Sunday, he baked a German Chocolate Cake, but "I" had the ice the thing. Yeah, isn't that soo wrong to have to ice your own cake. He's sucking up badly...
Perhaps it sunk into his head finally. How he treats me on my birthday is how he'll get treated on his (nine days after mine) - and yes, I'm that vendicative. If he wants a cake for his birthday, then he needed to make/buy one for me. Him over excerting himself on baking the cake especially getting the boys in on it told me he wants this one cake I make now and then he loves.
Since his stupid job went from weekly to bi-weekly, I knew we couldn't do anything or expect anything until his next payday which is Friday. Today he was asking what I would want. All he needs to do is set me loose in Borders. Books is always a safe bet with me. I've been salivating over the dark hunter manga!!
What did I get asides from many and many well-wishes? Sorry, not gonna list all who wished me a happy birthday because I know I'd forget some, and well I really don't wish to offend them. They know who they are!
Got birthday cards from Sherry Spradlin and Deann (D's came in today, pretty purple colors! Beautiful). Anime sent me a black T-shirt and bitchin' sunglasses (to replace his old ones that mysteriously broke) for my Build-a-Bear Dev and chocolate bar with a bear on the top. Squee!
Why a black shirt for my Dev? My hubs griped and bitched that Dev, in the books, does not wear a white shirt with the Sanctuary, Home of the Howlers. That his shirt is black... So she remembered me complaining on what my hubs said. Pfft. Whenever I get to go to another signing I want her to sign the shirt.
But yeah, I gotta re-read Bad Moon Rising for what his black shirt says to make an iron-on.
Mom sent me a birthday card with a twenty dollar bill in it. Book money! Muahaha. Oh oh oh! Today I just checked my deviant and Y accounts, and an art friend (Iz) drew me a picture of her character (he's my fav!) with nothing on but a ribbon. http://isadora-legata.deviantart.com/art/Happy-Birthday-to-Rao-136310931
What else... Oh! Hehe, received an email from Bittenbybooks, on my birthday, stating that I had won the Diva bracelet on their contest from Adele Dubois.
Overall the day was pretty nice, hanging out with my children, hubs, and on-line friends. Thanks again for all the warm well wishes!!! Lubs you all! Now I'm gonna go listen to Inkubus Sukkubus's Viva La Muerte.
Monday, August 17, 2009
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