Author Carrie Pulkinen's book, Sweet Release, is coming out on Friday and she's giving away a free copy!
All you need to do is click on the link and comment on Carrie's blog: Sweet Release's sweet release
Ain't that a purty cover?
O Muses, O high genius, aid me now! O memory that engraved the things I saw, Here shall your worth be manifest to all!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Conflict...
...there's never too much conflict in a story.
Last night, I figured out what my hero has to do to solve his problem. My problem is--will it be so much of a sacrifice for him? Or is it something he'd be happy to do anyway?
Could the conflict be that the woman he's going to sacrifice for not want him to sacrifice himself? Or that she doesn't believe his sacrifice will make a difference? And how many times can I use the word sacrifice in one post, anyway?
Perhaps the conflict will come from the way he'll have to leave his family--literally--never to return. Can he do that? Will he do that? His entire existence will not only change, it will end. In fact...so might he. Maybe. I'm not sure.
Rats. It's hard to play God.
Last night, I figured out what my hero has to do to solve his problem. My problem is--will it be so much of a sacrifice for him? Or is it something he'd be happy to do anyway?
Could the conflict be that the woman he's going to sacrifice for not want him to sacrifice himself? Or that she doesn't believe his sacrifice will make a difference? And how many times can I use the word sacrifice in one post, anyway?
Perhaps the conflict will come from the way he'll have to leave his family--literally--never to return. Can he do that? Will he do that? His entire existence will not only change, it will end. In fact...so might he. Maybe. I'm not sure.
Rats. It's hard to play God.
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Muse has paid a visit!
YAAAAAY!
I'm happy to report that I wrote seven pages (that's almost two thousand words) of a novella this weekend.
It's a Christmas story and it probably won't make it to the publisher in time, but...well, if that's the case, I'll just post it somewhere. Like, here. The title is, Naughty Can Be Nice. (Hmmm...do you suppose it might be a tad erotic?)
Dear Muse, thank you for the visit. I've missed you so much! You're always welcome to pay a call to this writer's domain.
Speaking of domains, I've been trying to figure out how to get my webpage up and running again. It's been quite a while since I've thought HTML-ishly and quite frankly, I blocked a lot of it out. So if anyone has any ideas/tips/sites/information, please--send it my way. I'm lost!
On that note--I've got another 3K (at least) to get through to finish the story. Just as a teaser (heh), here's a little bit of it.:
Gee...that doesn't sound very erotic, does it? Ho, ho, ho...you'll have to wait until Christmas to unwrap this gift. :)
I'm happy to report that I wrote seven pages (that's almost two thousand words) of a novella this weekend.
It's a Christmas story and it probably won't make it to the publisher in time, but...well, if that's the case, I'll just post it somewhere. Like, here. The title is, Naughty Can Be Nice. (Hmmm...do you suppose it might be a tad erotic?)
Dear Muse, thank you for the visit. I've missed you so much! You're always welcome to pay a call to this writer's domain.
Speaking of domains, I've been trying to figure out how to get my webpage up and running again. It's been quite a while since I've thought HTML-ishly and quite frankly, I blocked a lot of it out. So if anyone has any ideas/tips/sites/information, please--send it my way. I'm lost!
On that note--I've got another 3K (at least) to get through to finish the story. Just as a teaser (heh), here's a little bit of it.:
“You’re not real! I hate you!” The tiny girl screeched, hauled back her foot and let Kris have it—right in the leg--before dashing off into the children’s hospital Christmas party crowd.
“Oh, that is so not nice.” Kris bent to grab his knee and looked around for the parent of the pint-sized perpetrator. No one appeared ready to claim the kid, and he couldn’t blame them. If that were his child, he’d deny it, too.
They were probably hiding from the brat. And she was a brat. He knew it. His Santa-Spidey senses weren’t just tingling, they were screeching. Naughty! Naughty! Because he damn well was real.
Gee...that doesn't sound very erotic, does it? Ho, ho, ho...you'll have to wait until Christmas to unwrap this gift. :)
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