Thursday Thirteen #20: Writing Positives
It was suggested last week that I might be dwelling on the negative about my writing. I don’t see it that way. A mistake is just a mistake. So long as I fix it, who cares if I messed up? No one but me needs to see my rough drafts. Well, except for Suzie’s House, but we aren’t going there. Right?
So anyway, here’s a list of positive things about my writing.
1. Even when it’s torture, I still enjoy doing it. Perverse, I know, but there it is.
2. Now and then I get compliments. Lately, a lot of compliments. THANK YOU!
3. I love it when I can come back to an old manuscript fully expecting to have to do some hard-core pruning and discover I don’t need to.
4. The Flow – I am seriously addicted to the flow. By the flow, I mean when the work takes me so far out of my own head I’m barely aware of the actual effort of typing or story structure and am completely immersed in the story. Then the words just come pouring out.
5. My characters may have similarities to one another, but they are each distinct individuals with their own quirks, intentions, and over-all personalities. It wasn’t always that way.
6. I enjoy reading what I write much more now than I did a few years ago. Not that I always like what I wrote, just that I dislike it less.
7. Writing gives me a good excuse to do research.
8. If I ever actually sell any of my writing, I can start deducting the cost of research. Castles of Europe here I come!
9. Writing gives me a good excuse to read. It’s research, right? I need to do lots and lots of it. Ok, so maybe I shouldn’t count the paranormal romances as I haven’t written one yet, but you never know….
10. My efforts to improve my writing and get published has lead me to some interesting places on the Internet – including doing my own blog.
11. My blog, which is supposed to be presenting me to the world as a writer (yeah, right) has given me a great excuse to play with dolls. 😀
12. It has also given me some common ground with some totally cool people who have since become friends.
13. I have proven I’m no quitter. I might be all kinds of idiot to still be writing regularly after all these years, but I clearly am not a quitter.
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By George! What a Loving Family.
Mr. Al assures me this is the right one this week. So, let’s see if I can get this straight; George III went off his rocker. This caused all kinds of problems for those in government who then had to chose between – what did Mr. Al call it? Oh yes, “… an irascible, ill-educated, reactionary old coot who was, at the moment, a complete nutter; and the other, an emotionally stunted, but highly educated, alcoholic hedonist with no sense of responsibility to anyone but himself.”He left us with the comment: “And then, on February 10, 1789, the impasse was broken.”
His Majesty had recovered his wits. The Prince and the Duke raced to their father’s bedside, or tried to. The Kings doctors advised against either of the boys speaking to dad. It could cause a relapse. The Queen couldn’t agree more. The brothers were keenly aware of the bad press they had been receiving since the King had fallen ill. The Prince especially wanted to do something to counter it.It wasn’t until February 23 that a meeting was finally allowed. It was a short meeting. No mention of money or politics was allowed. The Queen, who only agreed to the meeting with great reluctance, was on hand. She was also nursing a bad tooth. She “walked to and fro in the room with a countenance and manner of great dissatisfaction.” No one had any fun, but there was no fighting. The public could be informed that the King and his designated heir were reconciled.
With the King more or less ready to resume business, the regency matter was shelved. To the Prince’s horror, his hopes of reconciliation had been dealt a sever blow when he learned that the Queen had been relating to dad, as a sort of story time in the evenings, every nasty rumor about her boys the servants could gather for her. Not surprisingly, such stories were quite easy to come by.
One story in particular enraged dad when he heard about it. He was told that the Prince, who had always been a very gifted mimic, would entertain his guests at Carlton House by imitating the King’s delirious ravings. Included in the program, according to the Queen, were highly indelicate, if not downright obscene, comments the King had made about various well known ladies. The Prince vehemently denied it. But then he would. The truth, alas, is lost to history.
If the Prince was having a rough time of it, the Duke of York soon found out just how cheesed off mom was with him. In April of 1789, Colonel Charles Lennox, nephew of the third Duke of Richmond made some catty remarks about the Prince and the Duke. He did so publicly. The Duke gave as good as he got and Lennox challenged him to a duel. The Duke accepted.
On the appointed morning on Wimbledon Common, Lennox got off a shot that came within inches of blowing the Dukes brains out. When the Queen heard of it, she placed the blame squarely on the Duke. Her Majesty wasn’t willing to leave the matter there, however. While the Duke was no doubt feeling ill-used when he heard of Her Majesties response, what she did next left the Duke and the Prince apoplectic with rage. The Queen invited the Duke’s would-be killer to the King’s birthday party where she greeted him warmly. Thanks mom.
Whatever stories the Queen heard were ones that were making the rounds throughout London. While the Prince had his supporters, they kept a low profile in London. It would seem that many Londoners, particularly of the Lesser Sorts, were inclined to side with Her Majesty as far as her boys were concerned. On April 23 a service of thanksgiving for the Kings recovery was held at St. Pauls Cathedral.
The King and Prime Minister Pitt were huzza’d and God Save the King’d so loudly one could have heard it in Paris. The arrival of the Prince and Duke was greeted with spirited hissing. When Fox’s carriage arrived it was greeted with such verbal abuse that Fox felt obliged to slide down in his seat so that he couldn’t be seen.
As concerned as the Prince may have been about his public image, it didn’t prevent him from behaving in typical princely fashion during the service. The Prince was observed by many to be in hushed but animated conversation with the Duke the whole of the time. The Prince was also observed snacking on biscuits during the sermon. To be fair, sermons in that day, especially on such an august occasion, could run to a couple of hours.
That reminds me of a little sermon anecdote involving Elizabeth the First…
The Road Way More Travelled Than it Ought To Be
Mr. Al insisted on going for a hike last Saturday. I kept pointing to the hills and saying “snow” but that didn’t slow him down any. So, after digging round in three closets and a workshop for my missing shoes – as the only thing I ever wear these days is my crocks – we packed it in and headed for our favorite trail-head.
It’s dirt road a good part of the way. We were tooling along just fine until about a mile from the trail head. Then we hit what you see in the picture. Back when we had a jeep – yes, it was a silver Jeep Cherokee – I wouldn’t have thought twice about going up this, but we’d already taken a wrong turn on some rough road, and I just wasn’t into it. Mr. Al relented, and we went home.
Would you have forged ahead?
Alice Calling for Cookies
This time we are going to do something a little different. I’m going to award the cookies to someone who leaves a comment on someone else’s blog – specifically, a blog that can be found among the participants of the Alice Calling Meme.
In that meme you were supposed to take a paragraph and make a few changes in it. We had a genie in a bottle, zombies, men in love, the loss of a lace garter, and cable cars turn up among the variations.
See if you can find the phrase:
Jocelyn lay down and tossed her bottle of Carona and asked Will to kiss her senseless.
Once you’ve found the phrase, leave a comment on the blog where you found it to enter your name in the contest. You have between now and April 5th, when I draw the name and announce the winner, along with the name of the person whose blog the phrase came from.
Last weeks winner was Lara. Send me your snail mail address, Lara, and I’ll get those Lemon Chalets out to you.
Eggsactly
“A true friend is someone who thinks you are a good egg even though they know you may be slightly cracked.”
Happy Easter
Afterburner Hash
7 potatoes, grated
1 can corn beef, cubed
ketchup
Habanero hot sauce
too much butter
.
.
Melt about two tablespoons worth of butter in a medium size pan. I like cast-iron for this. Toss in grated potatoes and cubed corned beef. Fry. What you’re shooting for here is to have the potatoes soft on the inside and crunchy on the outside. Sprinkle Habanero and ketchup right before eating. Get the right sauce and you won’t know it’s hot until a few minutes after you swallow.
Jack and Jill Went Up the File Cabinet
They can do that sort of thing without rope because they are bendies and have magnets in their feet.
They went up the file cabinet to get the bucket of paint. They recently decided to move, which means they get to do all sorts of things like paint the house and fix the faucet and call a real estate agent.
Jack: It’s white. I know it’s white.
Jill: It better not be white. I want Burnt Sienna.
Jack: Stop being unreasonable. You know you have to paint the house white when you are trying to sell it. It isn’t like we have to live with it.
Jill: *sigh* I guess not. But if it’s Burnt Sienna we are still using it.
Poor Jack and Jill. They have no idea what they are in for.
saturday photo scavenger hunt
Photohunt can also be found here.
Suzie’s House 59: Chance Encounter with the Ex
Welcome Fiction Friday readers and Girls Scout Cookie entrants. This is the post to leave a comment in for the chance to win Lemon Chalets.
When we left off last week Miranda had gone to the Caribou bar in search of the men who shot Vin and run into the CIA agent Christina instead. Now we return to the Cardinal Bar where Miranda left Drew and Suzie slow dancing.
Suzie could feel Drew’s body plastered to hers from breast to thigh. She had her arms around his neck and he had his around her waist, the better to pull her closer. The music was slow, and if anybody on or off the dance floor objected to the way they danced – from side to side an inch at a time – they weren’t saying anything.
Drew leaned back, putting a little distance between them, and Suzie sighed in disappointment. For a while she’d been able to forget everything that had gone wrong in her life and simply herself. She supposed you couldn’t sway on a dance floor forever. But instead of leading her to their table, Drew lifted her face toward his, and kissed her.
“My God, Suzie! What do you think you’re doing?” The voice was all too familiar. Rob. Her EX-husband, who had the power to make her flinch even as she told herself he had no right to cop an attitude on her.
Suzie let Drew go, but didn’t try to break free. She took a deep sigh.
“What do you want, Rob?” She sounded every bit as bone-weary as she felt whenever she looked at him.
A girl was with him. She couldn’t have been a day over 21, if even that. Long, black hair plaited into an I-Dream-of-Jeanie do, Madonna bustier, teenybopper attitude, she fit right in at The Cardinal. She clung to Rob, who – with his balding pate, bear belly, and worsted wool suit – didn’t fit in at all.
“Who is she?” The teenybopper sneered her question.
“My wife.” Rob answered with little attention to his date or the truth.
“You’re married?” The teenybopper’s lip curled up in revulsion. Rob grabbed the girl’s wrist, but she pulled free and disappeared into the crowd.
“Now see what you’ve done? It’ll take me weeks to fix it.” He would try to shift the blame. Couldn’t he take responsibility once in his life?
“Rob, where’s Ben?”
“Who?”
“Your son. Where is he?”
“Oh. Home, I guess. He wasn’t back from school when I left. Why do you ask?”
Suzie put her forehead against Drew’s shoulder and groaned. First thing in the morning she’d have to call around and see if she could find someone better to take Ben until it was safe for him to come home.
“What’s it to you? You’re the one who dumped him on me with no explanation.”
“You need to keep a close eye on him. Some guy tried to pick him up a while ago.” That was as much explanation as Suzie intended to give her ex-husband.
Rob grunted with a distinct lack of interest. He was busy looking around, probably worried about his precious reputation. He’d never had a realistic idea of how people thought of him.
“Are you at least dealing with Mrs. D,” Suzie asked.
“Who? Yeah, sure. Sure.”
The girl who had been with him stalked past, chin up and in a severe huff. Suzie found it hard to take the attitude seriously in a girl half her age. Rob turned like a dog catching the scent of a bitch in heat. He took a step toward the girl, his hand stretched out to her. The pose was ultimately pathetic in a man old enough, but not mature enough, to be her father. He was a visual reminder of the mistakes Suzie was capable of when she didn’t hold herself in high enough esteem.
“This is your fault,” he snapped at Suzie, gesturing toward the girl as she disappeared in the crowd. “You shouldn’t even be in a place like this. You’re too old.”
“And you aren’t?” Suzie shot back.
For a minute she thought he’d hit her. His face went to a blotchy red and he balled his fist. Suzie stepped away from Drew, her own hand tightening for a punch which she dearly wished to unleash. Rob glanced from her to Drew, then took a couple of steps backward.
“Never mind. You aren’t worth it.” He turned in the direction the girl and gone and fled.
For the first time since Rob spoke, Suzie looked up at the man she thought she might take as a lover. He hadn’t moved an inch, but the transformation was complete. He looked like the kind of stone-cold, calculating, rock-solid man it takes put a bullet in someone. If she reached around him now and found his gun and holster she wouldn’t be surprised. Actually, it might really be under his loose-fitting shirt. She’d had her arms around his neck, not back.
She told herself the thought of him as FBI through and through shouldn’t be such a turn on.
“Is he always like that?” Drew spoke with his eyes still on the part of the crowd where Rob had been.
“I didn’t divorce him on a whim,” Suzie answered.
Even though she was a little tipsy from the beer, she was pretty darn sure she wasn’t making a mistake this time as she put her arms around the man.
The previous was Suzie’s House 58: At Cross Purposes
This is Suzie’s House 59: Chance Encounter with the Ex
Next is Suzie’s House 60: Taking Advantage
TT #19: Ways To Screw Up a Manuscript
Yes, these are all things I have done. Yes, I regret them all.
1 – Say over and over in one chapter that the hero’s eyes are a vivid blue then mention how brown they are two chapters later.
2 – Fall in love with the word “That”, or “As” and refuse to get rid of a couple hundred usages.
3 – Include more than two exclamation marks in a paragraph.
4 – Forget to include any setting details.
5 – Let the hero come off looking like a total jerk for most of the book just because he’s that kind of guy.
6 – Fall in love with passive tense and refuse to get rid of it.
7 – Write dialogue that doesn’t move the plot forward at all because it’s what the characters would say at a time like that. “Oh no! You mustn’t!” “Oh, but I must”
8 – Use words like “oh” and “looked” and “just”, and “Glock” way too often.
9 – Lose track of who was talking so I put the dialogue tag in the wrong place.
10- Make a sentence so long and convoluted it not only takes up a whole paragraph but fills the page.
11- Switch out every flipping verb for something action packed so I end up slamming into the car seat instead of getting into the car and verbally attacking the butler instead of telling him he stinks, and generally sounding like an episode of Batman and Robin. Bam! Pow! Woof!
12- Forgetting that I want the reader to come away with a clear and particular emotion.
13- Confuse all these bad habits with my voice.
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Unhinged
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By George! I Goofed!
Last week when I posted http://aliceaudrey.wordpress.com/2008/03/11/by-george-what-a-mess/ what I was really supposed to post was what follows. My apologies. Go ahead Mr. Al:
Although there were many stories of the Princes bad behavior during this time, The truth seems to be that he behaved himself. More or less. Those close to the Royal Family reported that the Prince’s behavior was sober and solicitous. By the end of November, when it became clear the King would not quickly improve, it was decided to move him to the palace at Kew. There were some problems with this.
First, the palace at Kew was a summer residence. It wasn’t insulated, its fireplaces were more or less decorative, it was drafty as a belfry, there was no winter bedding or food and it had been shut up since the end of summer. Secondly, the King didn’t want to go there. This was a small matter, because the King was now under the care of Doctor Francis Willis. Dr. Willis had some decidedly medieval ideas about mental illness, among them was, because the patient is insane, the patient is always wrong.
Dr. Willis cared not a whit that the King was the King. If there was to be any improvement in His Majesties condition, then he, Dr. Willis, must have complete control. His Majesty was not willing to submit to yet another quack. That didn’t matter either. Dr. Willis had the confidence of the Queen, and that was, in the final analysis, what counted. For the unruly King there was the “Throne;” Basically an electric chair without the electricity. Whenever George acted up, he got the throne. Whenever his Majesty made “crazy” talk, the throne. Refuse to take his medicine? The throne.
Faced with a trip to Kew in the throne, the King submitted quietly. He didn’t stay that way once he got there. After arriving, he was informed that he would not be allowed to see the Queen or his daughters. This was counter to what he had been promised earlier. He became excessively violent; he “swore and uttered strange indecencies.” This was to be par for the course for the foreseeable future.
While all this was going on, conflicting doctor’s reports were causing panic to set in. Stocks were being affected, no politician could be certain of his position. The Tories didn’t know if they would be keeping their jobs. The Whigs didn’t know if they would be getting the Tories jobs. The government was afraid to make long range plans. As if all this were not enough, it seemed, at least to the Prince and the Duke, that the Queen was going far out of her way to poison relations between the two and the rest of the family.
They claimed that whenever they tried to visit, Her Majesty refused to allow them to even look in on their father, let alone talk to him. It was certainly true that Her Majesty had instituted strict visitation rules when it came to the boys. However, she had reason. The King had already reacted violently to an earlier visit. In fact, it had taken three gentlemen-in-waiting to prevent the King from bashing the Prince’s head in. I think the Queen could be forgiven for not wishing to risk a repeat performance.
Living Vicariously and Oopses
It’s been an up and down sort of week, but not necessarily for me. A friend of mine was offered her first contract. I’ll have more to say about that later. The stock market has been interesting lately. I’ve read blogs in which Romance writer’s are said to be negative while seeing in other places a lot of very positive support for one another. I’ve poked around at Technorati and at Digg without really doing much there yet. And I’ve totally ignored my intention to fix my blog roll. I’m afraid to say anything about it because of what happened the last time I said I’d fix it.
I also made a big mistake that I must apologize for both today and tomorrow. I posted Mr. Al’s guest blog out of order. It wasn’t my fault! But I should have realized something was missing when I couldn’t come up with an adequate bridge between last week’s By George! and the one from the week before. One had never been sent to me. Ah hem… Mr. Al. *tapping toe* So tomorrow we are going to backtrack a little and cover the chunk of history I tried to gloss over in my ignorance.
I’m reading Patricia McLinn’s book The Games, and thinking I might, maybe, will consider doing a book review. Maybe.
What are you reading?
Girls Scout Cookies Now
As you can see, I still have quite a few packages of Girls Scout Cookies left. Ever had a Lemon Chalet Creme before? I hadn’t. They are sweet and tangy with vanilla cookies around a lemon icing. The texture of the outside, done up to look like a chalet, is fun. Want to see what they are like without having to pay for them?This week I’m giving them away only to people who comment on Suzie’s House. You don’t have to say you LIKE Suzie’s House. You don’t even have to be topical. You just have to leave a comment. So for your chance to win these unique cookies, come back Friday and say “hi.”
In case you were wondering, they are in the yellow box to the far left.
Club House Sandwich
I couldn’t remember exactly what went into a club house sandwich until I ran across it in the Don’t Eat Your Heart Out cookbook:
3 slices toast
lettuce leaves
cooked chicken breast, sliced
safflower mayonnaise
sliced tomato
To first slice of toast with lettuce, chicken and mayonnaise. Top with second slice of toast; add tomato slices and top with third slice of toast. Slice diagonally into quarters.
Really, I had no idea.
Introducing Jack and Jill
It is my intention to start doing these photohunt things in a more Gerbil TV manner. In other words, I now have a couple of characters who will be doing something each week. If I’m lucky I will make them both fit the photohunt theme, and have a little story of their own going.
For instance, this week’s theme is “hidden.” So I ask you, can you find Jack and Jill? Any guesses which toys they are?
Which can be found here.
Next in Jack and Jill Jack and Jill Went Up the Filing Cabnet
