Perceptions and Illusions

Labels: book cover, DTA, publishing

Those jokey Jupiterians are hard at work again, unfortunately.

There is some kind of proportion formula working between me and the Jupiterians. The more important a project is to me, the more likely the Jupiterians will exert themselves to play practical jokes. And right now my project is right up there with...with...well, it is so important I don't know what to compare it to.

I am working on the cover for the Department of Temporal Adjustment, and I am well aware that people do judge books by their covers. So I have to get it right. The cover must be superb and perfect. It must exude humor and excitement, without being funny or amateurish.

And while I am working hard to create the perfect book cover for the DTA--and it must be perfect since its job is to entice readers to first pick up and then read the book--the Jupiterians are throwing every possible distraction at me imaginable. Packages, all of a sudden, require signatures. The dog barks, and when I look, no one is around. My computer dies suddenly due to lack of power, even though I had plugged it in a few minutes previously.

But Jupiterians, I will prevail. Give me your worst.

Or, on second thought, you don't really have to. You've distracted me quite enough. I get the point, you are funny, funny, little Jupiterians.

What's that you say? You want me to put one of you, a Jupiterian, on the front cover? But the book is not about...

Oh, I see. You would be satisfied with life size image, one no humans would even notice.

I'll tell you what, Jupiterians. You leave me alone long enough to get this cover done, and I will seriously think about it.

Great! It's a deal!

They sound so cute when they giggle like that--at least they do as long as they aren't giggling because of some joke they played on me.

I wonder if they realize they are invisible to humans?

Labels: book cover, DTA, frivolity, Jupiterians, life, myth or reality, publishing

Done!

Just half a minute ago, I finished rewriting the last word on the last page of the last chapter. Of the Department of Temporal Adjustment, of course! Possibly to be known as the DTA, possibly by some other title.

I am ecstatic, jubilant, and so, so happy.

The sun is shining brightly--at least in my head. As I look out the window all I can see are clouds.

Go away, naughty clouds, I don't want you around today. I am too happy to put up with your depressing grayness.

Let that glorious sun shine through.

I don't need it personally, I have loads of internal sunshine.

I would just like to share this feeling with the rest of the world.

Labels: DTA, life, world, writing

Success! (Or at least, half success!)

This morning I reached the halfway mark. I am now officially halfway finished with the last rewrites I need to do of the DTA. I was beginning to feel I'd never get here.

So much for finishing them all before the end of summer.

I don't understand what has slowed me down so much, but every time I start work the phone rings, or the dog barks, or my computer won't work, or something else happens to keep me from progressing like I should.

Giggles? Do I hear giggles? Jupiterians, are you here?

What do you mean, you hope I liked your jokes? What jokes?

You were the ones who called me on the phone and hung up as soon as I answered? You made the dog bark? You made my computer suddenly shut down? Why?

I see. They were great jokes. I can tell you really have enjoyed the pranks you've pulled.

What is that? They weren't just pranks, they were for my own good? How so?

Well I appreciate your concern, but I really don't see how getting the manuscript finished sooner rather than later will hurt anything.

You want to make sure I don't publish until next year? Well there is no fear of that now. But why will 2010 be a better year than 2009?

You say it is because of 20 divided by 10. And what exactly does 20 divided by 10 mean to you?

Yes, well, it is 2 for me too.

Laugh away, Jupiterians. Laugh away.

It must be a cultural thing.

Labels: DTA, frivolity, Jupiterians, myth or reality, publishing, writing

I was working on my rewrites this morning when I discovered that I had somehow neglected to 'really' write Chapter 7.

Not that there are no words, there are plenty of words. It is evident what happens. But it is just raw dialog with no details, no frills, no...anything! How could I have overlooked an entire chapter?

Well...to be honest, I know how I neglected an entire chapter. I originally wrote Chapter 7 before I had decided exactly how I was going to handle my character's time in the future. Chapter 7 is the character's first run-in with time travel.

I wish I was able to buckle down and spend some quality time, but life keeps getting in the way. But I will finish by the end of summer. I will! I will!

Labels: DTA, writing

It's odd. I am in the point of my book that I hate--when I have to check that everything flows and that I use the right tenses consistently throughout. It can only be termed as grunt work, because it's hard, it's time-consuming, and it does not require very much creativity.

Yet this morning, I had fun. I really enjoyed the hours I spent revising the DTA.

It makes me wonder...am I doing something wrong?

Oh no! What if the Jupiterians are playing some sort of cruel joke on me that I have not yet discovered? Will I find all my hard work erased tomorrow? Will my computer crash? Will the sun continue to shine so that I cannot remain indoors? (Okay, the Jupiterians really have nothing to do with the weather.)

I might as well stop worrying about it. Time will tell.

And the sun is calling!

Labels: DTA, Jupiterians, myth or reality, writing

The time has come for me to begin at the beginning of the "Department of Temporal Adjustment" and read it all the way through, making changes as I go.

I guess some people take a shortcut and call it 'revising'.

I will paste this morning's work below. If you want to compare, here is the link to the previous version.
**********************
Chapter 1

“Left!” I yelled, unable to keep my voice low. “There’s the sign! This is it, turn right here!”
My husband quickly moved into the lane to turn right, and I realized that he must not have heard my directions clearly. I frantically tried to correct his mistake before we had to waste more time turning around yet again.
“No, no, no! I said left, turn right here!”
“That’s what I’m doing,” Tony said through gritted teeth with what appeared to be ultimate patience, “we are turning right.”
“You’re not listening,” I said in the calmest voice I could manage. “I said to turn left right here.”
“I don’t think you are listening, since that doesn’t make the least bit of sense,” Tony responded in a voice tinged with frustration. “We can’t turn left and right at the same time. Do we need to turn left, or right?” He seemed to be a bit distressed, but I couldn’t figure out what he was getting so upset about. All he had to do was drive the car and follow my directions—nothing complicated about it!
“Left, at this next road coming up…right here!”
“Just point.”
I pointed to the left, and Tony swerved into the left hand lane to make the requested turn.
Finally, we were heading in the right direction. I turned to smile at my husband and realized that in my excitement to get where we needed to go, I had probably handled the whole exchange the wrong way. My poor Tony was the perfect picture of the harassed husband, with his clinched jaw, tense shoulders, and that death grip on the steering wheel.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” I admitted sheepishly. He glanced in my direction and I cringed at the expression on his face. He was not a happy camper.
I glanced toward the back of the car to see if my loudness had upset the children who were being suspiciously quiet, and was relieved to find they had all fallen asleep.
“I am just so frustrated,” I continued quietly. “Do you realize we have been driving over half an hour, and we still cannot find that stupid road?”
“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Tony consoled. “How are we doing on time?”
“We still have another half hour before her appointment,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t take into account that we are supposed to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. So in reality we really only have 15 minutes to find this place.”
I turned again to look at the sleeping children in the backseat. This wild goose chase of a drive had come about because my oldest daughter, Becca, struggled with chronic asthma. When I had heard that a neighbor’s child had been all but cured by one of the local doctors, I had immediately called to make an appointment for my child.
The receptionist had firmly but calmly informed me that the doctor was no longer taking new patients, and that there was a long list of people who were waiting for an opening. Pride had flown out the window as I had begged and pleaded, and had somehow managed to convince the receptionist to find room for my child.
I knew that it was paramount that my family arrived for the appointment on time. If we blew this chance there was no way any amount of begging and pleading would win a second one. Which was why I had allowed a full hour for a drive that should have only taken about 10 minutes.
Should have. Unfortunately, the directions given to me by the office staff had proven to be confusing, unclear, and just plain wrong. Half the streets I had been told to drive past had never materialized, and it seemed that the streets we were supposed to turn onto were elusive enough that I was beginning to suspect they had either been renamed or they had never existed at all.
I held on tight as my husband quickly made a right turn at my urging. But somehow, nothing looked quite right. We should have been in the middle of a series of medical offices, and this street could only be termed residential. It only took a few minutes of driving to realize that we must have made another wrong turn.
“Darn it! Sorry, I must have misread the sign,” I sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think we might as well give up and go home. We’ll never make it there on time, and there is no way they’ll give us another appointment if we’re late to this one. Why would they give such bad directions?”
Tony made a block through the residential area and pulled back out into the main road. He drove for a couple of minutes, looking all around to get his bearings.
Tony was one of those rare people who had the most amazing sense of direction. No matter where he was he can always find his way. Put him in a city he has never seen, tell him where you want to go, and he’ll somehow miraculously get you there.
If he were a superhero he’d be Map Man, or the Right Direction, or, or…well, he’d be something that instantly identified him as the man with an infallible inner compass who always knew the right way to go.
But every Superman has his Kryptonite, and I’m afraid for my Map Man, it’s me. I must have my own personal magnetic field, because I seem to have an amazing talent for confusing directional issues.
Tony, tired of driving around aimlessly, pulled into a half-empty parking lot and turned off the car.
“Okay,” my husband said more calmly than I deserved, “tell me again the directions they gave you.”
“They said to turn left out of our driveway, and then take another left…”
“Wait, wait wait! The doctor’s office told you to take a left out of our driveway? How did they know that we would need to take a left?”
“Oh, they didn’t. I added that part. I knew we’d need to take a left.”
“So leave out the part you added, and read to me exactly the directions they gave you.”
“Well, to be perfectly honest I didn’t exactly write them down. I mean, you know how people around here say go north until this road, and then go west, or east, or north by south west. It is so confusing. So when I wrote them down I converted them.”
“What does that mean, you converted them?”
“You know, got rid of all that north, south, east, west stuff.”
“You converted north, south, east, and west to right, left, and straight?”
“Yes, it was easy. I just remembered that if you face north, east is to your right, south behind you, and west to your left.”
My husband closed his eyes for a moment and seemed to be muttering to himself. I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but I’m pretty sure I heard something about the ‘lack of common sense’, ‘how can someone so smart be so dumb’, and that ‘it might be true that blondes are airheaded’.
I was beginning to get a bit miffed as he mumbled under away under his breath, but I decided that I should pretend I couldn’t hear him and keep my mouth shut. After all, if Tony put his mind to it he might be able to get us to the appointment on time. I evidently couldn’t. I could only get us more and more lost.
Tony stopped mumbling and pulled himself together. “So,” he asked in a voice he probably thought was kindly but I found patronizing, “what is the address again?”
“It’s on 15th,” I said, looking at my notes.
“Is that 15th Avenue or Street?” I could tell that he was trying his hardest to keep his frustration in check.
“Um, I didn’t write that down. I only wrote down 15th N.”
Tony slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, startling a pedestrian who just happened to be walking by as the horn beeped. Tony smiled and waved an apology to the pedestrian, and then turned to me.
“Sweetie, I think I know our problem. I know why we couldn’t find the streets we’re were supposed to find.”
I hated it when he called me sweetie in that particular tone of voice. It made me feel that he thought I had the brain of a 3 year old.
“How could you possible know why we were having so many problems just by hearing the name of a street?” I challenged. “I mean, we’re on 15th right now!”
“Very true. But we’re not on 15th N. We’re on 15th NE.” His response was smug, as if he knew something that I couldn’t possibly comprehend.
“15th N, 15th NE, what’s the difference. It’s the name of the street, 15th that counts, right?”
“Not quite. 15th NE and 15th N are in different parts of town. 15th N is on the other side of the highway. I’m pretty sure it’s in Greenwood.”
“Greenwood? I just don’t get it. How do you know what part of town by the N, S. E, W thing?”
“NW is West Seattle, S is south of downtown, NE is over here near Northgate...,” Tony looked at my face and sighed. I must have looked as confused as I felt.
“I’ll explain later,” he said patting my leg. I hated it when he treated me like a child. “We have to hurry if we want to get Becca to the appointment on time.”
I decided to let the ‘treating me like a child’ thing go for now. Tony evidently thought he can still get us to the appointment on time. I’d deal with his attitude later. Maybe. After all, I probably was the reason we had gotten lost in the first place.
Tony took a moment to get his surroundings and I could see the exact moment when his internal GPS system kicked in. He must have blocked my magnetic field and gotten his compass working again, because Map Man was alive and well and ready to save the day. Amazing!
“If we go this way....” Map Man began, but I grabbed his arm to stop his words.
I had seen a most unusual sight.
“Tony,” I whispered, “do you see those men? The ones right over there?”
“Why are you whispering,” Tony whispered back, “no one outside the car can hear you.”
“Over there, across the street.” I gripped Tony’s arm tighter. “Those three men who are dressed like old-timey aviators. They are walking like they have steel rods stuck in their back. All three of them. Do you see them?”
“Yeah, I see them. But even though they are strange, I think there’s nothing to worry about. We’re pretty near the U district. It’s probably a fraternity prank, or they have to walk around like that because they are being hazed.”
“I don’t know,” I said as I wondered if I could convey the weird feeling I had about these men to my level-headed husband. “They look somehow beyond U district strange....they look like, well, like they are straight out of an old sci-fi movie.”
“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, they are probably trying to join a frat. We need to get moving, or we’re going to be late.”
And again, the condescending pat on the leg.

Labels: DTA, publishing, writing

I'm happy to say that this morning I finished the Department of Temporal Adjustment (working title)!

It is such a satisfying feeling to complete a book. This book represents 2 years worth of hard work, 2 years of Saturday mornings spent on my computer, and 2 years of fun!

Okay, okay, I'll admit it. The hard work isn't really over yet. I now need to let it "brew" for a few months, and then I need to read it from start to finish. Again. I'm sure I'll make a few changes here and there.

And then the publishing process will begin.

In the meantime, I have two more books fighting to get out of my brain. One is a picture book, and the other is a YA novel.

I wonder if I can work on both at the same time?

My, my, my. Haven't I got a lot of fun times ahead of me!

Labels: DTA, publishing, writing

Just for the fun of it, I'm going to share the entire first chapter of the book I'm currently writing, "The Department of Temporal Adjustment". This is a very rough draft, and aren't I brave to post it unedited! I'm sharing it at this early stage because even unedited you can get the flavor of the story. I've had so much fun writing it, I hope you enjoy it!


Chapter 1

   “Look! There’s the sign! This is it, turn right here!” I yelled.
   I realized that yelling in an enclosed space like the car probably wasn’t a good idea as I watched my husband jump at the sound of my voice. He swerved to the right to make the requested turn, and then turned to look at me with astonishment. I am usually much calmer than this.
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” I admitted sheepishly and cringed at the expression on my husband’s face. I glanced toward the back of the car to see if my loudness had upset the children who were being suspiciously quiet, and was relieved to find they had all fallen asleep.
    “I am just so frustrated,” I continued quietly. “Do you realize we have been driving over half an hour, and we still cannot find that stupid road?”
    “We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Tony consoled. “How are we doing on time?”
    “We still have another half hour before her appointment,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t take into account that we are supposed to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. So in reality we really only have 15 minutes to find this place.”
    I turned again to look at the sleeping children in the backseat. This wild goose chase of a drive had come about because my oldest daughter, Becca, struggled with chronic asthma. When I had heard that a neighbor’s child had been all but cured by one of the local doctors, I had immediately called to make an appointment for my child.
    The receptionist had firmly but calmly informed me that the doctor was no longer taking new patients, and that there was a long list of people who were waiting for an opening. Pride had flown out the window as I had begged and pleaded, and had somehow managed to convince the receptionist to find room for my child.
    So I knew that it was paramount that my family arrived for the appointment on time. If we blew this chance there was no way we would be given a second one. Which is why I had allowed a full hour for what should have been a 10 minute drive.
    Should have been. Unfortunately, the directions given to me by the office staff had proven to be confusing, unclear, and just plain wrong. Half the streets I had been told to drive past had never materialized, and it seemed that the streets we were supposed to turn onto were elusive enough that I was beginning to suspect they had either been renamed or they had never existed at all.
    I held on tight as my husband quickly made a right turn down a street that could only be termed residential. Another wrong turn.
    “Darn it! Sorry, I must have misread the sign,” I sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think we might as well give up and go home. We’ll never make it there on time, and there is no way they’ll give us another appointment if we’re late to this one. Why would they give such bad directions?”
    Tony made a block through the residential area and pulled back out into the main road. He drove for a couple of minutes, looking all around to get his bearings.
    Tony is one of those people who never truly get lost. He has the most amazing sense of direction of any man I have ever met. Put him in a city he has never seen, tell him where you want to go, and he’ll somehow miraculously get you there.
    Unless I’m with him. Somehow, I seem to have a talent for confusing directional issues.
    Tony pulled into a half-empty parking lot and turned off the car.
    “Okay, tell me again the directions they gave you,” my husband calmly asked.
    “They said to turn left out of our driveway, and then take another left…”
    “Wait, wait wait! The doctor’s office told you to take a left out of our driveway? How did they know that we would need to take a left?”
    “Oh, they didn’t. I added that part. I knew we’d need to take a left.”
    “So leave out the part you added, and read to me exactly the directions they gave you.”
    “Well, to be perfectly honest I didn’t exactly write them down. I mean, you know how people around here say go north until this road, and then go west, or east, or north by south west. It is so confusing. So when I wrote them down I converted them.”
    “What does that mean, you converted them?”
    “You know, got rid of all that north, south, east, west stuff.”
    “You converted north, south, east, and west to right, left, and straight?”
    “Yes, it was easy. I just remembered that if you face north, east is to your right, south behind you, and west to your left.”
    My husband closed his eyes for a moment and seemed to be muttering to himself. I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but I’m pretty sure I heard something about the lack of common sense, how can someone so smart be so dumb, and that it might be true that blondes are airheaded.
    I was beginning to get a bit miffed as he mumbled under away under his breath, but I decided that I should probably pretend I couldn’t hear him and keep my mouth shut. After all, if Tony put his mind to it he might be able to get us to the appointment on time. I evidently can’t. I can only get us more and more lost.
    Tony stopped mumbling and pulled himself together. “So,” he asked in what I could tell was supposed to be a kindly voice, “what is the address again?”
    “It’s on 15th,” I said, looking at my notes.
    “Is that 15th Avenue or Street?” I could tell that he was trying his hardest to keep his frustration in check.
    “Um, I didn’t write that down. I only wrote down 15th N.”
    Tony slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, startling a pedestrian who just happened to be walking by as the horn beeped. He smiled and waved an apology to the pedestrian, and then turned to me.
    “Sweetie, I think I know our problem. I know why we couldn’t find the streets we’re were supposed to find.”
    I hate it when he calls me sweetie in that particular tone of voice. It makes me feel like he thinks I have the brain of a 3 year old.
    “How could you possible know why we were having so much problem just by hearing the name of a street? I mean, we’re on 15th right now!” I challenge.
    “Very true. But we’re not on 15th N. We’re on 15th NE.” His response was smug, as if he knew something that I couldn’t possibly comprehend.
    “15th N, 15th NE, what’s the difference. It’s the name of the street, 15th that counts, right?”
    “Not quite. 15th NE and 15th N are in different parts of town. 15th N is on the other side of the highway. I’m pretty sure it’s in Greenwood.”
    “Greenwood? I just don’t get it. How do you know what part of town by the N, S. E, W thing?”
    “NW is West Seattle, S is south of downtown, NE is over here near Northgate...,” Tony looked at my face and sighed. I must have looked as confused as I felt.
    “I’ll explain later,” he said patting my leg. I hate it when he treats me like a child. “We have to hurry if we want to get Becca to the appointment on time.”
    I decided to let the treating-me-like-a-child thing go for now. Tony evidently thinks he can still get us to the appointment on time. I'll deal with his attitude later. Probably. After all, I probably was the one who made us get lost in the first place.
    Tony took a moment to get his surrounding and I could see the exact moment when his internal GPS system kicked in and he figured out the best route to take. Amazing!
    “I think if we go this way....” my husband started to say, but I grabbed his arm to stop his words.
    I had seen the most unusual sight.
    “Tony,” I whispered, “do you see those men? The ones right over there?”
    “Why are you whispering,” Tony asked, “no one outside the car can hear you. And what men?”
    “Over there, across the street.” I gripped Tony’s arm tighter. “Those three men who are dressed like old-timey aviators. They are walking like they have a steel rod stuck in their back. All three of them. Do you see them?”
    “Yeah, I see them. But even though they are strange, I think there’s nothing to worry about. We’re pretty near the U district. It’s probably a fraternity prank, or they have to walk around like that because they are being hazed.”
    “I don’t know,” I say, wondering how I can convey the weird feeling I have about these men to my level-headed husband. “They look somehow beyond U district strange....they look like, well, like they are straight out of an old sci-fi movie.”
   “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, they are probably trying to join a frat. We need to get moving, or we’re going to be late.”
   And again, the condescending pat on the leg.

Labels: DTA, family, life, writing

This mornings writings (draft):

The first thought I become aware of when I regained consciousness was that I must have bumped my head on something as I entered the janitor’s closet. No matter that I had no memory of doing so and no pain, nothing else could account for the fact that I was lying on a cold hard surface with visions of flying saucers and ice cream running through my head.

I decided to keep my eyes closed for a few more seconds. The light filtering through my eyelids was blindingly bright. Or, to be perfectly honest, I supposed it would be blinding if I were foolish enough to open my eyes and let it in full force.
Which I had no intention of doing quite yet, since chances were that bright lights plus a bumped head would equal a raging headache. I hated headaches.

Gingerly I reached up and carefully ran my hand over my head to assess the damage. Encouraged by the lack of wetness I conducted another search, this time for sore spots.

No bumps. No gashes. No bruises. No blood.

But loss of consciousness, how could that be?

I’d have to think about it later. For now it was time to pick myself up, dust myself off, and head for the comforts of home.

Home. Safety, comfort, family…a soft warm bed. The perfect place for glorious sleep that I desperately need.

All I have to do is gather enough energy to open my eyes, rise from the floor, and drag myself to my car. Once I get to my car I can rest a few minutes.

No, no more thoughts of resting. I refuse to sleep in my car, on the floor of the janitor’s closet, or curled up under a bush somewhere between Denny Hall and the parking lot.

The sound of voices, a lot of voices, interrupts my internal pep talk. Instantly, adrenalin laced fear banishes the lethargy.

Were the weirdoes returning to the closet? Now, while I’m laying here vulnerable, half-conscious on the floor. I’ve got to find a place to hide.

Headache or no headache, it is time for action. My eyes fly open and I scan the closet looking for the perfect place of quick concealment.

Only, it’s not the closet I see.

Labels: DTA, life, writing

Writers are often asked what process they go through when writing.

Me, I rely on multiple rewrites, which each change the text quite a bit.

For example, this morning these paragraphs:

     I opened my eyes and looked at my husband lying beside me. Memories of wonderful times we have had together flooded my mind, and tears began to stream down my face.
     What in the world had happened to me yesterday? What tragic event had occurred to make me forget the most important people in my life? There were no humans on this earth who were more valuable to me than my family.
     And I forgot their existence for an entire day.

Became these paragraphs:

     As the light of morning sun hits my eyelids I decide it must be time to leave the land of slumber and start a new day.
     If I could convince my eyes to open, that is. They really don’t like that transition period when they are forced to leave the relaxing darkness of night to be assaulted by that bright orb which sometimes shows itself in the morning sky.
     My eyes tell me that they find the whole process extremely unfair!
     I convince them to open a slit, and both my eyes and I (or should I say the three of us?) are pleased to discover that there is no pain waiting to sneak in with the sun’s rays.
     A little at a time I persuade my eyes to open, until they are finally fully open and ready for a new day. Now all I have to do is roll over, sit up, and get out of bed.
     But my movements are arrested as my eyes decide to focus on the man sleeping beside me.
     As if someone had started playing 20 different movies in my head at the same time, memories flooded my brain, engulfing me with a kaleidoscope of images made up of the wonderful times I’ve shared with this man. Interspersed among the picnics, movies, berry picking and long walks were discussions about everything under the sun. Discussions I have enjoyed very much.
     My heart swells with love as the realization hits me that I truly enjoy being with this man who is my husband. It swells even more as I think about how amazing it is that I can talk to him about absolutely everything.
     Tears pour down my cheeks as my heart becomes overfull with emotion. This man is not simply my husband—he is my best friend!
     I’m such a sap.
     What in the world had happened to me yesterday? What tragic event had occurred to make me forget the most important people in my life? There were no humans on this earth who were more valuable to me than my family.
And I forgot their existence for an entire day.

And who knows what the final text will be after a few more rewrites!

By the way, it feels really good to be writing again. I've been so busy that I've barely written for about a month and a half. I think I was having withdrawal pains.

I told you those Jupiterians would find a way to slow me down!

Labels: DTA, writing

The book I'm currently working on is not written for the same audience as my first three books. While the Behold the Eye trilogy books were written for the middle grade/young adult group, this new book is more for adults.

Why the change?

Well, probably because I enjoy trying new things, finding new ways to do the same thing, and pushing myself to grow as a writer. My goal is "test the waters" in different genres by writing different types of books. I currently have the beginnings of a mystery, a series of ghost stories, and a science fiction.

Of course, the only one nearing book quality and length is the science fiction. I enjoy writing it, and it is coming along rather well. It is now 120 pages long and....

Uh oh, did you hear that?

When will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut! Now the Jupiterians know about the next book, and they'll never let me get any peace.

Sigh. Here I go again!

Labels: DTA, life, writing

I am working on my newest book, and I just cannot decide if I want to write it in first or third person. I originally wrote it in third person, I then converted to first person, and now I've converted it again into third. I need to make up my mind soon.

So here is the same text, in different 'persons':
********************************************************************************
“Look! There’s the sign! This is it, turn right here!” I yelled.

I realized that yelling in an enclosed space like the car probably wasn’t a good idea as I watched my husband jump at the sound of my voice. He swerved to the right to make the requested turn, and then turned to look at me in surprise. I am usually much calmer than this.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” I admitted sheepishly and cringed at the expression on my husband’s face. I glanced toward the back of the car to see if my loudness had upset the children who were being suspiciously quiet, and was relieved to find they had all fallen asleep.

“I am just so frustrated,” I continued quietly. “Do you realize we have been driving over half an hour, and we still cannot find that stupid road?”

“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Tony consoled. “How are we doing on time?”

“We still have another half hour before her appointment,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t take into account that we are supposed to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. So in reality we really only have 15 minutes to find this place.”

I turned again to look at the sleeping children in the backseat. This wild goose chase of a drive had come about because my oldest daughter, Becca, struggled with chronic asthma. When I had heard that a neighbor’s child had been all but cured by one of the local doctors, I had immediately called to make an appointment for my child.

The receptionist had firmly but calmly informed me that the doctor was no longer taking new patients, and that there was a long list of people who were waiting for an opening. Pride had flown out the window as I had begged and pleaded, and had somehow managed to convince the receptionist to find room for my child.

So I knew that it was paramount that my family arrived for the appointment on time. If we blew this chance, there was no way we would be given a second chance. Which is why I had allowed a full hour for what should have been a 10 minute drive.
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“Look! There’s the sign! This is it, turn right here!” Vanessa yelled frantically.

Tony jumped at the sudden loud sound of his wife’s voice, swerved to the right to make the requested turn, and then turned to look at her in surprise. Vanessa was usually much calmer than this.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” Vanessa admitted sheepishly as she noticed the expression on her husband’s face. She glanced toward the back of the car to see if she had upset the children who were being suspiciously quiet, and was relieved to find they had all fallen asleep.

“I am just so frustrated,” Vanessa continued quietly. “Do you realize we have been driving over half an hour, and we still cannot find that stupid road?”

“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Tony consoled. “How are we doing on time?”

“We still have another half hour before her appointment,” Vanessa admitted, “but that doesn’t take into account that we are supposed to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. So in reality we really only have 15 minutes to find this place.”

Vanessa turned again to look at the sleeping children in the backseat. This wild goose chase of a drive had come about because her oldest daughter, Becca, struggled with chronic asthma. When Vanessa had heard that a neighbor’s child had been all but cured by one of the local doctors, she had immediately called to make an appointment for her child.

The receptionist had firmly but calmly informed Vanessa that the doctor was no longer taking new patients, and that there was a long list of people who were waiting for an opening. Vanessa had begged and pleaded, and had somehow managed to convince the receptionist to find room for her child.

So Vanessa knew that it was paramount that her family arrived for the appointment on time. If they blew this chance, there was no way they would be given a second chance. Which is why Vanessa had allowed a full hour for what should have been a 10 minute drive.
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I have to choose the person before the next rewrite, because it is time to choose a path.

In first person I can be friendlier and let the reader really know what is in the Vanessa's head. But I won't be able to give other people's points of view.

In third person the reader will be kept at a greater distance, but can see from more angles.

What to do, what to do!

Labels: DTA, writing