The Rules Apply to Westerns, too. #writingtips

Whether or not we write western novels or any other genre, there are certain rules to follow that make us better writers/authors.  I've done a lot of reading lately, and also re-edited a couple of my previously published booked in order to add in the things I've learned since they were published the first time.  How many times have you read something you've written and said, "oh, I wish I had known that then?"

I decided to share a few common "unnecessary" faux pas I see, AND WRITE out of habit.

If you read a sentence containing "that" without the word and the meaning is still perfectly clear, take out the word.  I was a big offender when I first started writing but now I catch myself, and also do a search before I submit a manuscript for publication..

Example:  His declaration that he was innocent fell on deaf ears.
Better:  His declaration of innocence fell on deaf ears.

Note:  did you know "was" is passive? (I normally would have said 'did you know that "was"....I'm trying hard to minimize how many times I use the word.  Be sure to watch your tenses and stay in the present.  I'm not a big fan of "to" phrases, except in the case above because trying is something I intend...  in my mind using 'to see' and similar combinations shows intent rather than action.  It's important to have the story unfold as if the events are taking place in the moment.

How tired do you get of reading "he watched, she heard, she knew, or similar sentence lead-ins?"  We generally write from one person's point-of-view, and if we are doing a good job and not hopping from one head to another, then the reader will know who is watching, hearing, knowing or seeing. Of course there are time you will use a pronoun, but here's an example of how much more smoothly your novel will read if you adhere to this rule of thumb:

Bad:  She heard the doorbell and knew it was probably Michael.  She heard a muted whistling sound outside, opened the door, and found she was right.  
Better:  The doorbell sliced the silence and Greta placed her eye against the peephole.  Michael stood on the porch.. His puckered lips sent the muted melody he whistled  beneath the door. His handsome profile made her heart flutter. She opened the door and invited him inside.

Okay...maybe a little much, but I think you get the idea.

How about tags.  They can get very tiresome, and we forget how smart our readers are. If only two people are in the room. If you feel the need to identify the person speaking, have them do something...that's called an action tag.

Example:  "Nice day, isn't it? John said
Better:  "Nice day, isn't it?"  John stood at the window overlooking the garden.

Okay, so I used an "ing" word, and we've been beaten into submission about why to avoid them.  I think rules are made to be broken sometimes, especially ones that don't make sense.  I could have said  "that overlooked," but why?  I try to use them sparingly, but there are just times when nothing works as well as an "ing or an ly."  If there is a stronger verb to be used, I use those to SHOW more than tell, which brings me to another rule.

Show rather than tell!  I learned with my debut novel that there is a real difference between telling a story and showing a novel.  Strong verbs that SHOW the emotions, emphasize aromas, and put the reader in the character's shoes are signs you've done a good job.

"I'm so angry I could spit."  Jane left the room.  (Tells the reader Jane's angry.)
"I'm so angry I could spit."  Jane spun around and stomped out. (Shows the anger)

Oh...I should also mention that dialogue is really important, especially if you want to describe the person whose POV you're in. Normally a person would not describe themselves, such as long, brown hair, or eye color.  When you think or talk do you refer to your characteristics?  Probably not.  I'm sure not going to mention the size of my butt, and I hope no one else does, but you never know.

Example:
"I love the sparkle in your green eyes and the way the sunlight deepens the red in your long curls."  John brushed her lips with a kiss.

Last but not least...cause before affect.  In other words...something has to happen before someone can react.

Bad:  Susie started at the slamming door.
Better: The door slammed and Susie jumped.


Okay, I could go on and on, but I won't.  If you think of something to add, please feel free to use comments.  What bothers you most when you read?  Inquiring minds NEED to know.

Of Puppies and Book Signings!

Hey everyone, hope you're enjoying your fall whatever the weather is throwing at you. Here in southern Alberta it has been a brilliant gold and blue few weeks. Now that the freak early snowstorm nonsense if over with. The poplars/aspens are golden torches on the mountainsides, pirate's gold against the blue green of the firs and spruce trees. And the sky is that clear Alberta blue that almost seems to burn across the heavens it's so intense.
I volunteer for an animal rescue in Calgary called Alberta Animal Rescue Crew Society, they are a no kill rescue who works closely with the Spay and Neuter Assistance Program(SNAP). Currently I am fostering a lovely momma dog with eleven puppies. They were three weeks old on Oct 13 and are just starting on soft food. Takes about 2 hours to get them all fed, mom fed and walked and the pen cleaned. What a joy they are, all with different personalities and colouring. A few a monster puppies while the majority are medium sized and a couple are quite small. I named them after black colour names because when they were born they all looked black. There is Ebony (F), Sable (F), Onyx (F), Jet (F), Obsidian (F), Midnight (M), Black Jack (M), Ink Spot (M), Brown Eyes (M), Noir (F), Tiger Eye (F)- she is turning out to be a golden brindle colour.

My upcoming release form Books We Love is Christmas Storm, a romance set in Longview, Alberta. The scene stealing dog in the book is based on a number of dogs who have touched my life over the years. The dog, Storm, is dedicated to a black momma dog who didn't live long enough to get rescued. I wish she had been as lucky as Storm. My last rescue dog is a black lab X and I called her Storm in this dog's memory. You'll have to forgive my un-techiness, I can't get the image to rotate properly. Sorry.

I am very excited to share that I am attending the Surrey International Writer's Conference in Surrey British Columbia this weekend. I leave on Thursday morning and am in Jack Whyte's Masters Class at 1:30. I love this class, it will be the fourth year I have participated. Each person submits 3 pages of their work that they would like some feed back on. Jack reads it to the class in his amazing Scottish accent and then there is discussion. The class is limited to 12 people so it is quite fun and a lot of us are regulars which makes it very dynamic. For the last two years I have worked the conference as a presenter,this year I am not presenting so I will have more time to play! There are great workshops and great presenters every year. Friday night is dress up costume night, the theme this year is Spies, Lies and Bad Guys. I am going as a spy, I'll share pictures next month! In the meantime here is my costumes from 2012 (Flapper) and 2013 (Evil Editor)

Saturday night is a massive book signing which is open to the public. If anyone is in the Vancouver/Lower Mainland please come by the Sheraton Guildford and say 'hi'. The book signing is in the Fraser ballroom at 5:30 pm. Some big name authors will be signing their books, Jack Whyte will have the next book in his Guardians of Scotland series available at the onsite Chapters store, Diana Gabaldon of Outlander fame will be in attendance, Anne Perry is another favorite. There are many more, for more information you can check out the conference website Surrey International Writers Conference

I'll share my conference experience with you next time, and keep you updated on the puppy progress. Once they are old enough, the babies will go to separate foster homes to learn about crate training and house training. Momma dog, Missy, will stay with me until she finds her forever home. AARCS has a very through adoption process, so I am confident everyone will find a good home.

Till next time...

Conferences and Horu's Chosen by Janet Lane Walters - New Release

Wasn't sure what I would write about since I'm undergoing a bit of a split in my personality. I want to shout out about my new release, Horu's Chosen and also talk a bit about conferences. So I've decided to do both.

I used to attend conference after conference and have been to some that are different. This weekend I'll be at New Jersey Romance Writer's conference and this is usually a fun time. Mainly because I get to see old friends and even make new ones. One of my old critique partners is going to be a featured speaker and I really will be glad to see her again. Two of my friends are finalists in a contest and that makes me happy for them. Would love to see them both win. They're competing in different genres so there's a chance.

This made me think. Why do you go to conferences? Do you want to learn new things? Do you want to see your friends? Do you just like to be part of a group? I've been to large conferences and one tends to get lost in the shuffle. Smaller conferences are more fun. One conference I've never wanted to attend is RT. Somehow this isn't my thing. One I really enjoyed was the EPIC conferences and the RWA ones where I've been a speaker. Also a science fiction conference that meets across the river from here. That was fun. Sold a bunch of books and met some new and interesting people.

Now for my second matter. Horu's Chosen was released. Though it was up for pre-sale, I have no idea what that meant or did. This story had an interesting start. When planning the trilogy, and writing the first book, I needed a hero for the second. A few lines in the first book gave me the hero. Seth, an undercover cop. Never realized he was in the first book. There's just a small few lines where he warns the heroine of the first book not to go home. Something in his eyes made her think he wasn't the homeless man he pretended to be. So he came into being, betrayed by his handler and a priest he had to flee and he found his way to another world and another ancient Egypt.

Horu's Chosen (An Alternate Egypt Book 2)
Seth, an undercover cop has been betrayed by his handler. To escape he calls a number on a flyer and is transported to an ancient Egypt he doesn’t understand. He must rescue the Daughter from the evil priests of Aken Re. Merin is the Daughter....
amazon.com

Ring Around the Rosy by Roseanne Dowell

My goal in life was to become a topnotch journalist. I loved writing. Always had. Ever since I can remember that’s all I ever wanted to be. Suddenly, the goal was at hand. Within reach. I got it. My first big byline! I beat out all the other reporters at the scene and the paper printed my story. MINE!

So… there I was drinking coffee and reading my story. My headline! GEORGIE PORGIE PUDDING AND DIE by me, Susan Weston. Word for word just the way I’d written it. I’d been first on the murder scene the night before, even before the cops, so I got a pretty good look at the body. Turned out to be a guy I knew from the neighborhood. Not a sight I’m likely to forget.

 It made me feel good that my story got printed. This was my big chance. Things were going to change now. No more fluff pieces for me. And then everything went haywire.

The phone rang. Of course I answered. The voice on the other end sent goosebumps up my arm, down my spine, and chills down to my toes. It still does. Just thinking about it.

I could hardly hear the caller. His raspy voice faded out. Something about liking my story and strawberries. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Probably a crank call. But something about it bothered me.

My life hasn’t been the same since. To find out what happened, you’re going to have to read my book, Ring Around the Rosy available from Amazon. http://amzn.to/PjLvDp

Excerpt:

Susan propped the News Gazette on the counter and focused on the headline. ‘Georgie Porgie, Pudding and Die’ by Susan Weston, it blared at her. Her headline. Her story. She’d done it. Finally got her headline. She drummed her hands on the counter and did a little dance step. She swore if her grin got any wider her face would crack. .”Susan Weston, journalist!” she shouted. God, she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

The phone rang, startling her. “Who the heck is calling at this hour? “ She grabbed the phone. “Hello.” Bella rubbed against her legs, waiting to be fed. “Hello?” Susan grabbed the box of kitty food, filled the bowl, and set it on the floor.

“Hello,” she repeated, ready to hang up if no one answered this time.

The evil, raspy voice on the other end sent goose-bumps up her spine. “Who is this?” she whispered.

The voice mumbled something she could barely hear.

“Strawberries? What are you talking about?”

“Just for you,” the garbled voice continued.

“I can’t hear you. Who is this?” What kind of sick joke is this?

She caught the words, “loved your headline,” more garbled words, and “Watch for Jack be nimble.” Then the phone line went dead.

Susan grabbed the counter to steady herself. Her hand trembled, and she stared at the phone. She dropped the receiver back into its cradle as if it was on fire. But she couldn’t stop the trembling. Her stomach churned. Nausea filled her throat. What was wrong with her? Just someone playing a sick joke. This wasn’t her first crank call, why react like this? Maybe because none of the others had sounded like this.

He said he liked her story. That shouldn’t bother her. Something about that voice, so harsh, so evil. It gnawed at her. The hair prickled on the back of her neck. Something about it seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

After pouring a cup of coffee, she read the story under the headline aloud, trying to keep her mind off the phone call. “Police are investigating the death of thirty-one year old George Lucas, whose body was found last night in Lagoon Park near his west side home.” The sound of her shaky voice surprised her.

What was the matter with her?  “Get a grip, girl.”

Must be the effect of seeing the lifeless body. The way George Lucas’s eyes stared into space. What was he thinking when he looked into his killer’s eyes? The distant street lamp didn’t help. It cast an eerie shadow on the victim. His face frozen in terror, lips parted in a silent scream, and his head tilted to one side as if it was too heavy for his neck. The way one hand clutched at his throat and the other gripped the note, fingers frozen around it, sent icy chills through her, even now. She shuddered.

Thank God there wasn’t any blood, since the image would forever be embedded in her mind. Susan rubbed her arms to warm them.

Picking up the paper, she continued to read. “The coroner will determine the cause of death, but early reports indicate that Mr. Lucas was strangled. Lipstick was smeared across the victim’s mouth, and he clasped the nursery rhyme, ‘Georgie Porgie,’ in his hand. The teen who discovered the body reported seeing a man carrying a bag and wearing a gray shirt running from the park moments before. Police have no suspects at this time.”

Bella brushed against her legs, jumped on the counter, and snuggled against her.

Susan’s heart pounded. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So much for the thrill of seeing her name on the front page. The image of the body filled her mind. Her hands trembled while she held the paper and reread the headline with her name below it. It was exactly as she had written it — not one word changed, short and to the point.

George Lucas lived in her neighborhood. She’d seen him a few times in Meliti’s Market talking to old Mrs. Meliti. Although they never spoke, they had nodded and smiled hello. Nice-looking guy, about her age. What a shock seeing him dead. Another shiver shook her body. Seeing a dead body was bad enough, but knowing the victim threw her for a loop. Made it personal.

"One) lucky reader who comments on my blog will be randomly selected to win an eBook of Ring Around the Rosy. Good luck!"

How I found my hero by Sheila Claydon

http://youtu.be/nKSOFuQL5e0

There I was, off to visit friends in the Yorkshire Dales for a weekend of over-eating and dog walking, with absolutely no idea that I was going to meet the hero of my next book!

Visiting the glorious Yorkshire Dales when the weather is good is, indeed, like visiting 'God's own country.' Ask any Yorkshireman.  Visiting, as we did, when a blanket of grey mist hung like a pall over the whole landscape, was another story altogether. Walking left us damp and cold with our walking boots inches deep in mud, our trousers spattered with it from ankle to thigh and our hair lank and wet from the moisture swirling in the air around us. And when we climbed to the top of Middleham Low Moor we could have been at the end of the world. The gallops where race horses train most mornings were deserted. There was not a single  sound, not a jingle of harness or a creak of leather, not the snorting effort of the horses or the sharp calls of the jockeys, not even the sound of a curlew or the harsh shriek of a pheasant, just that strange cotton-wool silence as the world closed in on us. Think <em>Never-ending Story </em>if you've seen the film, and you'll be close. It was like Fantasia once it had been destroyed by <em>The</em> <em>Nothing</em>, except that in Yorkshire on that day, there wasn't even colour. Just a bleached white-out that hid the wonderful views that we knew lay below us.

Of course the local beer, the pubs that welcome dripping walkers, muddy dogs and wet boots in no particular order, the excellent and abundant yorkshire food, all made up for it, as did the log fires and the hospitality.  A delicious lunch of pork belly and apple washed down with beer soon had us putting the world to rights again. And then, right in the middle of everything, serendipity came to call.

I had only just decided that I wanted a musical background in my next book.  I hadn't even got as far as deciding what sort of music, and I was still in a dilemma about the hero when...there he was playing jazz piano at a jazz evening that we were taken to later that day, and where we swayed and clapped and drank wine with the best of Yorkshire.

So thank you Yorkshire, thank you Red Stripe Band, and thank you jazz piano player.  Don't worry.  You won't recognise yourself in the book because it isn't you, so please don't fret and please don't sue!  I just needed someone to point me in the right direction and you did it, with your music, your band, and your wonderful enthusiasm...so let's hear it for The Red Stripe Band.

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