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Archive for the ‘new novelist’ Category

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!

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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.

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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!

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While the purpose of most blogs on writing is to inform, I have created this blog to gather information. There are a lot of us “Aspiring Authors” out there, who are trying to learn as we go.

When I began this journey, the only thing that came to  mind when someone mentioned “craft” to me, were Popsicle sticks and Elmer’s glue.

That was a beautiful time of innocence, when I wrote simply for the joy it gave me.  In fact, it made me a little sad to learn how much of “art” is actually  “business.”

Once I  committed to taking this journey, however, I determined to give it my all.  So,  I began to do research. The one word that was invariably near the top of the important issues  of nearly every website, tweet or book jacket on writing…. CRAFT.

The problem that I am facing at the present is that there is simply TOO much.  Too  many books.  Too many websites. Too many classes. How do newbies like me EVER make the right decisions?

That may sound ridiculous to any experts, who are used to weeding through the chaff of  information.  We poor little lost “aspirings” flounder.  We helplessly bounce from one site to another, not certain whom to trust.

Who is right?  What is wrong?

It can be a bit overwhelming.  I have already spent WAY too much on books, online workshops, and plan to spend a lot more as soon as I figure out how to choose.

… That is the question…..

HOW DO WE CHOOSE?

Where do  YOU turn for craft advice?

If there are any more Aspiree’s out there, which would like to link to this, I figure we are better off together.  Welcome. 🙂

Thank you and have a beautiful day.

Janet

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I got some really good news Saturday. I submitted my first short story to an e-zine and it was accepted for publication. I know it is not that big of a deal to most people, but to me, it proved that at least my writing doesn’t completely suck.

I think that is important…  not sucking.

I am an “aspiring” author. Hmm.. What does that mean exactly?

The dictionary says:

as·pire

http://sp.dictionary.com/dictstatic/d/g/speaker.swf [uh-spahyuhr]

to long, aim, or seek ambitiously; be eagerly desirous, esp. for something great or of high value (usually fol. by to, after,or an infinitive): to aspire after literary immortality;

Ahhh… Part of the dictionary’s definition… To aspire after literary immortality.. Immortality???    Woowee! THAT is a BIG aspiration!

I think I will shoot a little lower.

I want people  to read what I write. I want them to sink themselves into the world that I create. I want them to hide from their children in the bathroom, so they can finish one of my chapters.

There are an awful lot of us “aspirings” out there. The question is, how to I rise out of the obscure pack?

Obviously, the writing has to be good. Or actually, more than good. It has to be phenomenal.

I have mentioned how naïve I was when I started this journey. I thought if you wrote a good book, you got published. Well, apparently, there is a lot more to it. You must also build a “social platform”, have lots of followers on Twitter and have a large Facebook page. I wonder how large of a Twitter  following Dickens would have? Or how many Facebook friends Tolstoy could cultivate?  What would have been their social media strategy ?

I am a toddler in the Twitter world. As an (ahem) forty-something, I feel awkward trying to break into that world. It seems too hip, too cool for an old broad like me. When I announced to my teenagers that I now “twittered”, they first gagged a little, then informed me, acidly, that it was “Tweeting, Mom. Duh..”

So, here I go. I will face this electronic world. I am going to jump in with both feet, and just hope that I don’t embarrass myself by being a ginormous nerd.

Except.. aren’t nerds cool, now?

Here is a tiny excerpt from my Manuscript.  What do you guys think????

This time I dreamed of Alex. Only the dreams were not of our time together, but strange, disjointed images.

He stood across from me, near a wide, flat river. Palm trees swayed in a hot breeze; and behind him, a huge pyramid rose out of the desert.
He wore a bronze breastplate and the plumed helmet of a Roman soldier. The gritty wind whipped my long, white robes and black braids around me. Alex grinned and held out his hand. In his palm rested a huge opal.
As I reached for it, the scene changed to winter. Snow covered a hilly landscape and we were clothed in plush, smooth furs. He tried to push the stone toward me again, but as I stretched out my hand to grasp it; he melted away to be replaced by Lucien. Dressed in the dandified clothes of a French aristocrat, he threw his head back in a cruel laugh. His unnaturally red lips were clownish against his white, powdered cheeks and black beauty mark. I turned to run, but my wide skirts wouldn’t allow me to turn quickly. My head was so heavy under the tall, white wig.
Only a few feet away, Alex struggled, his arms pinned behind him. Scratches covered his chest, where his white-frilled shirt gaped open. His autumn brown hair had escaped the low ponytail and hung in straggles around his blood-covered face. Someone grabbed me from behind, pulling me away as he screamed my name.
I sat up, panting and sweating, and then wished I hadn’t.

BTW>> I added on some of my favorite blog sites, and also some of the books I have read in the last year. With working on my own book, I’ve had less time to read, which is SO not cool! I LOVE “literature”, but sometimes you have to concentrate too hard. All these books are pure pleasure.

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Well, I am going to do it. I am going to eat a big old bowl of crow, feathers and all.

The other day, I submitted a very succinct and well-thought out post regarding the lack of writers and/or conferences held in our glorious South. Some might say I was just whining, being a big titty-baby, but to you I say….. pttttthhhh. :p.

In any case, today I was moping around on the net, my bottom lip thrust out like a toddler. I was perusing next year’s list of writers’ conferences ,which I can’t  attend because they are all too dang-blasted far away!

Then, it happened. It was like the angels smiled down on me, sending this link straight to my broken heart. (I know, sugar.. If you need a little Kleenex. It’s okay.)

http://dfwwritersconference.org/

I discovered a writers’ conference in Dallas/Ft.Worth in February!!  My joy knew no bounds. Then…… disaster struck.

The dates.. February the 26th and 27th. One of which just happens to by my 23rd wedding anniversary. {sigh}. What were the chances that my husband would want to drive six hours, only to sit in a hotel while I go to classes, lectures and meetings?

With little hope, I sent a quick email, with a link to the site. He knows how much becoming a published author means to me, but I had no idea how he would take doing something like this on our anniversary.  He already loses a lot of me when I am writing.

The ding of the inbox chimed, and I clicked on  it…..

The only thing it said in return…. Of Course.  I love you.

Now, I already knew my husband was Grade A, 24-Carat, 100% etc….He and I are high-school sweethearts and have been together for twenty-six years. A more loving and giving man does not exist in the world, and I should not have doubted it for a millisecond.

Now… you can pull out your Kleenex box.

(of course, I will not mention the little side deal I had to make… But..it IS our anniversary, after all.. )

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I went to my first book signing this weekend. I know, I know.. What?! You say to yourself. How is this possible? All she does is talk about books. How is it that she has never been to a book signing?

I live in the South. That’s how. In particular, I live in Arkansas. We couldn’t be any further from New York or L.A. in either geography or lifestyle. We are slow ’bout things ’round here. Could that be the reason we don’t draw any big name authors to our state? I had to drive seven hours, to Kansas City,  just to attend an hour-long lecture and book signing.  I wouldn’t drive seven hours to meet a movie star, but I will to meet an author whose work I admire. Is that lame?

The population of Kansas City is around a half-million, including its suburban areas. My city, Little Rock, is not much smaller. Yet, we have little to no literary events. Oh, we can throw a hell of a watermelon festival, duck calling competition, or even a festival called Toad Suck Days (not even kidding). But try to get an author down here. Not happening.

So.. my question is… What’s wrong with the South? We’ll feed the heck out of anyone who wants to visit. Our mamas raised us to say yes ma’ am, and feed the company. Aren’t the  Black-eyed peas and peach cobbler alone worth the trip?

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