Rewriting is Painful

Rewriting is painful. I feel like I’m in rehab, retraining stubborn writing patterns and developing muscle tone and flexibility.

How are you coming along with your writing?

It hurts right now, but I know the end result will be worth the painful effort. In the short time I’ve been working with my writing coach and group, I see a long road ahead of me.

I wonder, how people write and publish novels every year. Then again, I’m new at this and I work minutes as day as opposed to hours a day. I tip my hat off to some of my favorite writers & bloggers who are making excellent progress like:
Roz Morris, Cristina Stanley and Kirsten (A Scenic Route).

Going Forward With Intrigue

I’ve been MIA–but for a good reason.  I joined a Writers Group led by Gloria Kempton.We post our chapters/scenes, then critique each others’ work in sub-groups. Next, Gloria critiques our submissions using her writing expertise and knowledge. She “tells it like it is.” That is, Gloria tells you what you did well and provides suggestions in the areas you need to strengthen or fix.

Because of the positive and honest feedback I’ve been receiving, I’m currently performing major editing (actually rewriting) surgery. I plan on submitting more bites  in the near future. But for now I will focus more on going forward with the novel known as Intrigue.

Intrigue: From LA to Casablanca

 

 

Daily Challenges (Excuses)

My noisy husband and daughter converse and scuffle about in the same room as I’m writing this post.

Writing can be challenging. Not because  I don’t have the time or can’t find the words. Rather, it’s due to the daily life situations we all deal with.

Right now I’m working with my stressed out daughter in helping her get ready for college, juggling family needs and looking for a new job. Now I need to clean my home before my brothers visit us today. We only have two hours to neaten up our place.

My daughter says, “Mom, get off the computer. We have to clean the house.”

“Okay. As soon as I finish my post.”

You see, I can’t use  these challenges as an excuse not to write. If I do, I will never get any writing done.

I look at it this way: challenges are good  for my nerves and self-discipline.

Family serves as rich component in writing.

Here’s to reality writing :).

DAY 6: INTRIGUE, Chapter 1: Post #006

How did I just let an enticing man like that go? I’ve always had a weakness for foreign men. My overseas boyfriend Franco lived in the Philippines. I was going to see him during winter break.

But Adam was a gentleman. Whenever he opened a door, he’d let the ladies go through first. Not arrogant like those frat boys. He always said “Good morning, please and thank you to everyone.” Even if other students were rude, stressed out or hung over.

DAY 5: INTRIGUE, Chapter 1: Post #005

I needed to walk home before it was dark. The neighborhoods around USC weren’t very safe, especially after sunset. As I was leaving the campus, I heard footsteps running up behind me. I turned around and saw Adam.

“You should take the tram instead of walking. I’ll walk you home.” He grinned ear to ear.

“That’s okay. I only live three blocks away.” I kept walking.

“One step outside this campus and you’re in the South Central war zone.”

“You’re right.”I stopped walking. “I live at Troy Hall. Is that too far for you?”

“Not at all. Let’s get you home safely.”

  ***

The next day in King Hall, Adam and I worked together again; doing the same monotonous thing.

Checking students in.

Checking students out.

Charging them for their printouts. A Greek fake-bake complete with fake blond hair caused a commotion  because I charged her $2.00 for printouts that she screwed up. I wanted to tell her to hire a tutor, but I kept my mouth shut instead.

When would this shift end?  I wanted to get out of this fluorescent lit, refrigerated office. I should have brought a sweater and mittens.

Finally 4:00 o’clock arrived.

Adam and I left together. We headed towards the tram stop.

While we were waiting, He casually said, “Would you like to go out to dinner and see a movie this weekend?”

God, Adam was handsome. But I still had my heart set on Franco. He was the ladies’ man I wanted but couldn’t have.

“I’m sorry Adam, but I already have a boyfriend,” I lied.

He flinched, but recovered quickly “That’s okay. Maybe another time.”

“Yeah. Okay” was all I could manage.

“See you around.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

Trying to Locate My Favorite Bloggers

Call me crazy, but I can’t locate most of the bloggers I’ve been following. I’ve been doing some serious catching up on my blog reading (now that my life has calmed down considerably) and several bloggers seem to have disappeared…Unfortunately, I don’t remember everyone’s blogger handle :(. I promise that I’m not ignoring you.

Worst case scenario, If I can’t locate all my favorite bloggers, I guess I’ll have to start all over. Please bear with me.

Little Free Library…

Check out this blog. Imagine if you could find a free library in your neighborhood.

When all is said and done

I first saw these on Facebook in the form of utilizing unused phone booths in England. Not long after that, probably because they had now been brought to my attention, I came across another photo of a Little Library in Lawerence, Kansas. –>

This little gem of an idea will not let me go.

I love the whole concept of it… not to mention the cuteness factor. How could anyone not want to read a book from a little house? Okay, my grandkiddos who refused to read this summer ~Weasy, a straight A student, has read 10% of a book in the last three months.~ may be able to resist. However, I know I could never pass by one without a peek inside.

Now I find out there is a Little Free Library Organization complete with website. Click on the link for a trip over there and you will find the mission statement ~ they have goals…

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DAY 4: INTRIGUE, Chapter 1: Post #004

That afternoon, I reported to work at King Hall Computer Center. When I walked in, my eyes riveted on a muscular, bronzed Arab who stood behind the check out counter. This lean, long legged god possessed a sharp, straight nose and a tight ass.

Three eager coeds were chatting with him in French. His golden complexion and mop of glorious black curls brought out his angelic brown eyes. “Where did you come from?” I said under my breath.

During the lulls, Mr. Stud asked me questions like: Do you play tennis? Do you normally work at the King Hall? And, do you like the Pet Shop Boys?

I answered his questions with: Yes, but I suck at it. Actually, I usually work at Taper Hall. And, yes I like the Pet Shop Boys.

When we finished our shift for the day, we walked outside together. A crisp breeze brushed against my face lifting my bowlish blond hair up into the air. He was definitely of Arabic decent. What country he was from?

As we passed by the student fitness club he said, “I know you from somewhere.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Where did I meet you?” He inquired.

My mind raced. I didn’t remember meeting him unless I danced with him at a disco or met him at a party. I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know.” I hoped that I had not done something foolish in the past and forgotten about it.

He said, “My name is Adam.”

“Hi Adam, I’m Stevie.”

“Your parents actually named you Stevie?”

Not funny, I thought. “No. My real name is Stephanie. But Stephanie is too stuffy. I prefer Stevie.” I point to myself. “Stevie’s more adventurous.”

“Adventurous. Wow. I thought maybe you were in show biz.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” We stopped walking. “How long have you been at USC?” I asked.

“Too long,” he replied.

This was becoming awkward. I looked down at my watch. “Well Adam, I gotta run. Nice working with you today.”

He replied, “You too.”

Please Welcome My New Persona, Jane Smart

Photo of keyboard and pen (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve been wrestling with coming up with a pen name for a while.  I decided that if I create a new persona and give myself a pen name, it would free up my writing.

Now I won’t have to worry about offending anyone should they recognize themselves in any upcoming works–they won’t be able to make the connection.  I still need to work out the logistics, but I figured why not? I’m certainly not the first nor the last to do this.  On that note, please welcome up and coming novelist, Jane Smart.

Jane Smart: I’m taking over this blog effective immediately, August 27, 2012. My other personality, Janet will be working behind the scenes while I hammer out this novel and get it published. At last I can speak my mind! I can let loose my creativity. I can play and manipulate words, scenes and stories.

                     Here’s to MY novel, Intrigue.

 

 

DAY 3: INTRIGUE, Chapter 1: Post #003

CHAPTER 1—STEVIE

SEPTEMBER 1990

The sun warmed the air in Southern California. Mostly late 80’s and some 1990 models of Mercedes, BMW’s and other fashionable cars were parked on the university streets at the University of Southern California (USC). Wealth surrounded me in this little Mecca.

People affectionately called USC, the University of Spoiled Children. However, I wasn’t one of them. As a poor student, I tried to look like I belonged there. I was dressed in one of my favorite USC tee shirts, matching shorts and sneakers—probably Nike Air that I purchased with my student credit card.

I wore my pale blond hair in an early 90’s (a la Demi Moore; the hairstyle she wore in the movie Ghost); complete with a bowl cut and a point reaching down my nape of my neck. I looked like a boy with breasts. I sported long acrylic nails and wore bright pink lipstick.

I wasn’t Greek. That privilege belonged to the wealthy kids who could afford to be beautiful. The “true” Greeks were the slender, perky breasted sorority girls and the muscled (but possessing proud beer bellies) fraternity boys. Almost all of Greeks on campus had fake-bake tans from the local tanning salon. Scholarly, gray haired professors made their presence known on campus. They were gods in their own right. The foreign population exploded at USC. They came from every corner of the world.  USC wasn’t a melting pot; it was more like oil and water just shaken in a bottle.