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Hello!

If you are interested, my blog has moved to a new home, a website of the same name.

The link is http://janetbtaylor.com/

 

The Hall of Mirrors at Versailles

 

 

Please join me.. And have a beautiful day!

It’s Cake

Hello to  my three blog readers out there- unless you dropped out, Mom…

Mom???

Well, I did it.. I finished the book!

I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself. It took me the same way. The sobbing.. I know, baby.

You back? Okay.

Well.. I finished the first draft of my first novel, A TIME FOR HOPE.  I can’t believe I actually did it.

That— “The End”— just snuck up on me. All these months of living, breathing and bleeding over these people. Wondering what was going to happen to them is all over. You see, I am one of those writers who have NO idea what is going to happen until I write it. Just like this blog.  Flumberty-joggity-hoopdeedoo.  See, I had no idea I was going to do that, either.

Now that I have finished the first draft. I reminds me of a birthday cake.

In case you aren’t aware… A birthday cake is one of the best things in the whole world. Unless you are getting a rockin’ present, the cake’s the best part of any birthday.

Right now my cake is  bare. I mean, you can throw a cake mix in a bowl, chunk it in the oven and slap it down in a little metal cake pan – and still call it a birthday cake. But it ain’t  pretty. That’s what I’ve got right now. A Duncan-Hines yellow. Delicious, yes. But, in need of a lot of frosting.

Now, second draft, and I am  picking off all the burnt pieces and carefully taking out that big damn air bubble that always appears in every cake I’ve ever made. After that, I’ll put down my base frosting, smoothing out as many of the rough patches as I can and round out the sides. Once step two is accomplished, I’m going to send it to my beta readers and my oh-so-lovely and absolutely kick-ass mentor, Susanne Dunlap.

They are going to swoop their fingers through my perfectly smooth icing and poke at the cake beneath.   They will find all those places I where I cheated by filling in with frosting.

When I get it back and fill in all their finger marks (naughty, naughty) it’ll be time for decorating. Prettifying. Color, Almond Flavoring and Sugar Crystals. Anything it needs to sparkle.

Then and only then will I put it up for “Best Cake Contest” in the County Fair of the publishing world. I probably won’t take home the blue ribbon, but if I can get at least one honorable mention, I’ll be happy enough.

I know I have a long, long way to go. I’m know all the frosting in the world (even the kind that comes with built-in rainbow sprinkles) won’t help if the cake is dried out or too soft to hold together.

For today, however, I’m just gonna eat the batter left in the bowl and enjoy that cakey smell.

Sophie’s Blog Choice?

If you are one of the three people who have visited my blog lately.. (Hi, Mom). You know that I  haven’t been here in a while. That is because I am on a hot streak with my manuscript. {Yay.}

Between my riveting life as a Radiology Tech and my glamorous home life- scrubbing toilets and cooking Hamburger Helper;  I, like Sophie before me, had to make a choice.  Devote all my free time to the book, and Twitter when possible or focus on the blog and give up some of that precious writing time.

Guess which one I chose?

If the publishing gods ever smile on me, I will continue the blog.  If it happens,  I might have something to say which you guys would care to hear.

Believe me! My fictional life is WAAYYY more interesting than my real one.  I think that is the case with most of us, though, huh??

Until I have something profound to share, I bid you adieu!

f you have watched the news in the last day or two, you have heard of this already. It is one of the weirdest things I have seen in a long time and is perfect for the Halloween season.

Apparently, a filmmaker in Dublin was screening the video extras in a Charlie Chaplin movie from 1928. He saw something that caught his eye, and over the course of a year, studied it. He showed it to over a hundred people and now–through Youtube– over a million have viewed it.

HE explains it far better than I can, and really.. you have to see it to believe it.  I am thrilled!  In a market where everyone who writes Young Adult fiction seems to focus on Werewolves, Vampires or Fairies, I am thisclose to finishing my first manuscript on….you guessed it…. Time Travel.

I hope that this video will draw a little interest toward the concept. Maybe it will help me when I get ready to start querying agents.  (Fingers crossed!!)

Anyway.. Get ready for those chills I promised…  Mwaaa haa haaaaaaaa!

So.. I am entering my first contest.

It is a Cliffhanger contest by writer Brenda Drake.  It’s a very cool premise, and I thought I ‘d give it a whirl.  (nervous, much?)

Since my story is about time travel, I thought it would be a cool thing to post the actual “travel”.  The set up is Hope, a fifteen year old girl, has discovered that she must journey into the past to save her mother.  Trained by her Aunt Lucinda and assisted by her friend Phoebe- who has magic- Hope must surrender herself to “the Dim” the horrifying passageway into the past. She wears an ancient opal ring, which allows her to “steer”, and more importantly, to return.

Here.. they begin the ritual..

HOPE-scene..

Phoebe patted my cheek and stepped away.

“All right, lovey. Let’s do this. It’s almost sunrise.” She said, her voice shaking slightly.
The scent of wet earth was so thick I could barely breathe. Raising my hand to just above my head, I traced the strange carvings that covered every inch of the low, claustrophobic cave.
Phoebe’s voice was weak as she sang the opening notes of the song; something between a monk’s chant and a Celtic ballad, that would bring the Dim to life.  As the sound echoed around me, bouncing off the walls, it picked up strength. Louder and louder until I could feel the notes drumming against my bones. The hair on my arms stood up.
When the last echo died, I cracked one eyelid. The earth pressed down on us from above. The dank wind which had whirled my skirts around me out of the man-sized opening of the abyss halted, as if holding its breath.
Before I could ask why it didn’t work, everything reversed violently. All the air was sucked out of me. My skirt and hair began blowing towards the Dim; pulling me in, calling me.

When the tiny pinprick of red first appeared between my fingers, I was supposed to walk to the opening. But, my legs were as frozen as the stone walls. They would not obey.
Brighter and brighter, the light became thick, as if it had…substance. As the cold brilliance clung to my skin and began inching up my arm, I panicked. I tried flinging it off, like some nasty, sticky object that I’d accidently touched in a convenience store restroom. My breaths became shallow screams.

Phoebe touched my arm and began the final notes of the song. The beauty of her voice gave me the bit of courage I needed. I looked into her anxious face, blushed with the scarlet light. I gulped, nodded.
The light sped up my arm and across my chest. It dripped down my front and cascaded down my back, cold as black ice. My head was whirling as I stepped to the boundary of the Dim’s darkness. The eerie wind was pulling at me, wanting me. I was so cold, so confused that for an instant, I thought I heard someone screaming my name, over and over. The cold, syrupy, red brilliance sped up my throat and spilled over my lips, filling my mouth.
I staggered and turned, the back of my heels teetering on the cliff’s edge of the Dim. There was a voice in the wind. Two. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands of voices behind me. They were so loud I wanted to cover my ears as they screamed. The noise filled my skull, almost splitting it open. I opened my arms and started the backwards fall, letting the magic of the Dim take me. Take me to the past. Take me to my mother. Anything to make the voices stop.
Alex burst through entrance to the cave, his eyes frantic.
“Hope! No!”

THAT’S IT… What do ya’ll  think???

Well, it was inevitable.

How long could he be expected to live without her? They had stood faithfully side by side for  thirteen years. Who of us can imagine  going on in this cold, cruel world once our life partner is gone?

Oh, he hung on for a while, and did his best. We knew it was a charade, that his heart just wasn’t in it.  He became sluggish and tired easily.  Often I would see him pause, inexplicably,  in the middle of his work- doing nothing. That’s when I knew that he was not long for this world.

He rallied for a short time when a new partner arrived on the scene. He even showed some of his old enthusiasm. Our  hopes rose. But no one could ever take her place in his heart.

Then it happened.

Last night,  a horrible, gut-churning, gurgling sound came from the bowels of his soul. His was not the quiet, dignified departure of his partner. He did not go gentle into that good night. No, like most deaths, this one was messy and painful to watch. After a few last gasps….

Silence….

I tried desperately to resuscitate him, banging and crying to the Heavens for mercy, “No! No! A thousand times, NOOO!”

Finally, my husband laid a gentle hand on my arm, and together, we closed his lid for the last time.

He is at peace, now.  They can rest together, with no more heavy loads to bear. That is a solace to me.

So…We say goodbye to you, Kenmore 1998 Washing Machine. May your rinse cycle be forever fresh and clean.

Thank you, Janet B Taylor



Below, I am including my July 11th post on Shewrites.com about the sad loss of this brave washer’s partner and her struggle.



In a happier time- hand in hand.



Ode to a Dryer.

We had a death in the family today.

A long-time, faithful member, who was always there for us in times of need. Ever ready to help out, always available, never too tired to lend a helping hand. For twelve, long, hard-working years, she was with us through good times and bad, in sickness and health.
She had been suffering of late. Old age and too much hard work had begun catching up to her. We cared for her, pampered her, treated her with great delicacy, and tried to give her the dignity she so richly deserved.
I am sad to announce, however, that today, at approximately six-thirty this morning, she finally succumbed.
Oh, how we mourn.
You will be missed, 1998 Kenmore High Capacity Dryer.
‘You will be missed.

 

 

 

The horned helmet of Henry VIII

The horned helmet of Henry VIII

 

Hello ,

I have been doing quite a bit of research for my manuscript on those nutty Tudors, and I thought I’d ask for your feedback.  If you know the history, you generally have pretty strong feelings about this subject.  I know I do, so please share yours here. Thanks, Janet B Taylor

TUDOR WIVES-

It is a shame that  Henry VIII is mostly known for killing his wives. He was a brilliant man. Like Bill Clinton, who will ever be remembered for a stained blue dress and a cigar, Henry VIII’s legacy is his matrimonial disaster.

I am not going to go into his positive contributions here, although I would like to in another blog. You can check this out: http://www.the-tudors.org.uk/henry-viii-accomplishments.htm It is no scholarly work, but interesting, nonetheless.

I would like to talk to you today about Henry VIII’s wives. In case you are not familiar with them- here is a list:

Catherine of Aragon– Spanish princess and first wife-and mother of Mary I.  Henry divorced her- and she died alone and heartbroken.

Anne BoleynSecond wife– and some (like me) say – a husband poacher. She gave us the great Elizabeth I, but paid for her sins with her head.

Jane SeymourThird Wife– and the only one to give him his one true wish.. A son, Edward.  Sadly, she died of infection after giving birth.

Anne of ClevesFourth Wife– Sister of a German duke, Henry married her for her connections. When he laid eyes on her, days before the wedding- he was appalled. He claimed she was ugly, stank, and was stupid. They married, but did not consummate. He implemented annulment proceedings almost immediately. Of all his wives-she made out the best, with a nice settlement and the title “Beloved sister of the King.” She outlived Henry.

Catherine Howard- Fifth Wife and Henry’s teenage hottie. Catherine was between fifteen and twenty when she married the aging king. It did not take the promiscuous Catherine long to take lovers behind the king’s back. She was the second wife to lose her head on the block.

Katherine Parr– Henry’s sixth and final wife. She was a mature, educated woman who acted as more of a  nursemaid than a bed partner to the old, ill king.  She ended her reign as a widow.

If you want to read more details about this fascinating period of history- check this out. http://www.luminarium.org/renlit/tudor.htm

 

Now… Here is my question:

I am a first (and only) wife- lucky enough to marry–and stay married to– my high school sweetheart.  My sympathies have always lain with poor Catherine of Aragon.  Catherine and Henry married when they were young and beautiful.  He was nuts about her and even trusted her enough to let her rule his country when he was away. She adored him beyond all things. They were happily married for over twenty years and I believe that Henry always loved Catherine.

Then things went wrong… I think if she had produced a son, instead of one living daughter and a number of heart-rending still-births, he would never have divorced her, Anne Boleyn or no Anne Boleyn.

My mom has a phrase for a woman like Anne- who seems to get all the men she wants with a simple snap of a finger.  “She has a golden snapper.”  I will leave you to interpret that any way you wish, but.. I believe that Anne Boleyn is one of the aforementioned ladies.  {ahem}..

I want to know what you ladies (or guys) think..  To whom do you most relate?

Are you a Catherine, an Anne, a Jane, an Anne, a Catherine or a Katherine???

Who is your favorite Tudor Wife?

As you know,(those three of you who read this blog)… I am working on my first manuscript. I am past the 70,000 word count, now.  I’m getting very close to finishing the first draft. Fingers crossed!!