Thursday, March 30, 2023

Real Life Events that Inspire Works of Fiction

 


Visit Eden Monroe's BWL Author page for book details and purchase information 

Many  works of fiction are inspired by real life events, the seed that brings the story life. 

Such was the case with the novel, Sudden Turn. Like the heroine, Ginger Martel, I worked for many years as a freelance reporter. Freelancing is a wonderful experience with no shortage of adventures available for the taking. If I could imagine an interesting story, no matter the subject , I’d find the assignment and do it. Since I have a particular interest in law enforcement I was given any number of exciting opportunities … from flying in helicopters, hitching rides on deep sea patrol vessels and participating in training exercises, to rappelling, firing weapons both real and virtual, and doing countless police ride-alongs. Another favourite subject of mine, as it is with most people, is animals. Outside of the usual assortment of amazing domestic animals I recall fondly my close-up experiences with wallabies, emus, ostriches, a tiger and a whole herd of Plains bison. So much fun.

I have also had the enormous pleasure of interviewing hundreds of fascinating people of every age from all walks of life and political stripes. Each and every one had a great story to tell and I loved hearing them. I literally had the time of my life doing that.

And since I already had a full-time job in the legal field when I first began to freelance, before I went at it full-time in 2001, I did most of my interviews during evenings, weekends, personal vacations and public holidays. That was basically the equivalent of working two full-time jobs, but not one single word of complaint, not ever.

And since one of the newspapers I wrote for was a rural publication, I’d often find myself in remote areas, and working evenings I was sometimes searching in the dark for a particularly isolated address. Most of the time I took my own photos, which meant I was travelling alone. You go where the story is, meet people where they are and the more colourful the better. Embrace the quirky with the mainstream. There is a definite high to chasing down a good story. I always felt it; sought it out. There is the unknown in any situation in life; freelancing is no different and that always provided a powerful impetus for me.

So it’s entirely reasonable to assume, considering the aforementioned, that some situations were a bit risky. And it’s probably not surprising I suppose that I eventually found myself in Ginger’s shoes, in an isolated location in the home of a man who refused to let me leave when the interview was over. Of course after a couple of hours I was able to resolve it on my own, thank God, and once I was safely on my way I simply stuffed it away as a not so great experience and moved on. I certainly had no intention of changing the way I was doing things. I also didn’t want to be restricted moving forward and I probably would have been if I’d told anyone about what had happened.  I wanted to keep doing what I was doing, the way I was doing it. There are risks with anything in life and plenty of not-so-great experiences, but there’s also more than enough positive to provide counterbalance.

Years passed and it was while taking a Master Class featuring former FBI lead international kidnapping negotiator, Chris Voss, that an idea for a book began to take root. Chris Voss is an incredibly dynamic individual and I found the subject of high-stakes negotiation fascinating. The class was a complete pleasure for me. Not only was the subject matter compelling, but I could listen to that voice of his all day long, perfectly modulated and highly persuasive. Quintessential cool. As a novelist, I knew I had to do something in that way with what I was learning from Mr. Voss. That’s the moment when the marriage of the two elements actually took place. The first being to draw from the experience I’d had as a freelancer when I’d been held in that man’s home against my will, and the second would be a hostage negotiator brought in to save the day. Perfect!

Before I actually started putting pen to paper though I not only completed that Master Class with Chris Voss, but followed it up by reading books on the subject of hostage negotiation (including that written by Chris Voss and Tahl Raz) and the underpinnings of negotiating in general. Then I felt ready to begin.

And so I started to write Sudden Turn. I well remembered the details of that unfortunate freelancing ordeal, but when I opened that door I hadn’t expected the anxiety of that awful night to come roaring back as though it had happened yesterday, the emotions that were unearthed. Now that I’d decided to relive it for the sake of the book, that whole incident was replayed in my mind in vivid detail. The what if’s. It was now front and centre again because I had unwittingly forced myself to deal with it; realizing with startling clarity how very lucky I’d been to get out of there on my own because it could so easily have gone the other way.

Something that still haunts me about that night was when I asked him: “Will those dogs attack me when I go to my car?” His answer was: “They will if I tell them to. Yes.” I will never forget those chilling words or the look in his eyes that told me he meant what he was saying. But for the grace of God I’d have been in Ginger’s exact position and I would not have wanted to go through what she did.

That incident provided the seed for Sudden Turn, and the story grew and deepened into the total nightmare it could have become in real life had it played out that way.

I wrote the newspaper story at the time with no mention of what took place following that interview, because I didn’t want to deal with it. It was as simple as that. It seemed like a good way to handle it at the time, so that’s what I did.  I buried it, but like any truth it will eventually be told and so now it has been, in Sudden Turn.

 

Wednesday, March 29, 2023

The Night the Moon Sang

 

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https://bookswelove.net/waldron-juliet/

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 My husband, two little boys and I had driven 7 hours north through snow and ice from Connecticut to Maine to see his favorite cousin, Susan. She and her family were house-sitting in a large, lovely 18th Century sea-captain’s home whose sloping lawn stretched down to an inlet of the sea. 

The whole world was electric blue in the twilight when we piled out of the VW and waded the last few feet of their driveway. We stomped our feet to get rid of snow in the unheated  mud room. The kitchen was wood-fire-piecemeal hot, and Susan was belatedly beginning to work on a sink full of dishes. 





The family lived for the winter in a few downstairs rooms, and kept the pipes warm for the owners, who were off sailing in the tropics, a life-style unimaginable to us. Sue’s husband was a potter, and while he made beautiful things, from dinner services to exotic display pieces, they were not exactly flush with cash. Beans or spaghetti and homemade bread were probably supper that night; I don’t remember.  It was Susan’s birthday, so she’d made a delicious, heavy, scratch chocolate cake, and I’d brought up Grandma Carol’s family famous “Cowboy Cookies.” 

Night grew deeper. Finally, the kids and cousins were extinguished; the adults were all talked out. We retired to couches and sleeping bags. It was cold as the hinges of the 9th Circle of Hell in any room not heated by a woodstove, an utterly clear and magnificently dark sky starry night—at least, until the full moon got up over the tall black pines. Then it was like day out-of-doors, the moon balefully glittering down on those crisp, fresh pillows of snow. 

Susan and I had agreed to wake up later, because we’d consulted the almanac and learned that there was to be a lunar eclipse around 1 a.m. It was the night between our birthdays—mine would be tomorrow. We were a kindred pair of magical-mystery-tour women, both Pisces in the cusp. We were not about to miss such a grand celestial side-show.

Exhausted from carbohydrates and driving , I’d fallen into a deep sleep, but in what seemed only a few minutes, I heard Susan's voice in my ear.

“Juliet! Get up! Get Up!”

I sat up groggily. I could see her quite well with the moonlight pouring in the windows; it was amazingly bright. 

“Get your boots and get downstairs—quick—quick--hurry!”

I did as she asked, for she sounded almost desperate, as if something was terribly wrong. Not only that, but she enforced the idea by rushing out of the room as soon as she finished speaking. I heard her feet going down the stairs rapidly. I got my boots on and followed, fast as I could. When I reached the kitchen, there she was, my coat in hand.

“Is it the eclipse? What’s happening?”

“Come on—quick--hurry! You have to hear this! It’s crazy!”

I threw the coat on and followed her out the door. The first breath, as we stood on the back steps, froze my nose and made me choke. It must have been zero—or lower. She gestured upward toward the moon, sailing high over the forbidding, snow robed pines. 

As we stood there, trembling, it acquired a halo of dull red for the eclipse had begun. The snow-weighted branches randomly cracked in the cold. I had an odd feeling inside my head; I seemed to be looking up through water.  Next came a kind of hum, a low tone that reverberated through the scene, and then I heard sweet tones, like a flute or an electronic instrument, ring across the sleeping, snow-shrouded land and out across the icy ocean which could be seen--and heard--at the bottom of the slope. 

The veiled moon grew redder; the haunting tune repeated. Susan grabbed me by the shoulder. 

“Do you hear it? Do you?”

“Yes! Yes! What …?” I kept looking up and down and side to side to see if anything was different or if anyone else was nearby, but I couldn't see any human-made light, shape, or motion. We were alone and shivering with the snot freezing air and the sheer weirdness of the snow-bound scene under that muted, dire moonlight.

“Thank God!” Nervously, Susan giggled. “I thought I’d completely lost it.” 

She was cheered now that we had both "completely lost it." ;)

The tones were beautiful, melodic –and almost, in some peculiar way, perfectly normal. 

Well, when the “music” stopped, we went back inside and attempted to awaken our respective spouses, but that was hopeless. Neither of them wanted to leave the warm cacoon of their beds—besides, they believed their Pisces women were engaged in some weird, flipped out folie à deux.  

Now, if you are thinking about “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” go right ahead.  Our trip into  The Uncanny Valley happened in 1973, four years before Spielberg’s blockbuster.  In fact, when I heard those tones in the movie all that time later, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and a cold chill ran down my spine.

I'd remembered that frigid night in Maine when a blood red moon sang to Susan and me.


~~ Juliet Waldron




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Tuesday, March 28, 2023

Cinderella Never Asked for a Prince (Getting to Know your Characters) By Connie Vines #Writing Tips, #Characterization, #Cinderella #Prince Charming


How well do you know the characters in your novel?

This is a question every novelist ponders over and over again. 
 
What motivates the heroine?
What motivates the hero?

As every author knows, what motivates a character is never the same as the last novel or a future novel, nor is it what motivates the author (that would be too simple). 

Characters are independent and decidedly stubborn. You can't force them to change simply because it would make your life simpler. 

No, your heroine and hero are running the show. And the author is not sleeping at night, drinking coffee all day, and surviving on whatever leftovers are in the fridge or canned goods in the pantry. And fashion is no longer a consideration for the author because she is entrenched in research.  📚🔎🔏

This brings us to the classic story:  Cinderella has survived for centuries.
"The Little Glass Slipper" is a folk tale. The story of Rhodopis was recounted by the Greek geographer Strabo (between 7 BC and AD 23). And numerous other versions came into existence. However, in 1697 Charles Perrault published the French version. This is the story most widely known today.

Now back to motivation.

Cinderella's motivations are not set upon looking for a prince. Cinderella wants to wear a dress (and shoes), get a night off, and enjoy an evening of dancing!

The painting in my office 👠



 

Chanel dressed in her princess finery


What motivates our Prince Charming?

Prince Charming is not a hero. He doesn't fight anyone, he faces no danger (at least at the Ball).  We simply see him as a well-dressed man using a glass shoe to interview a unmarried women in the kingdom as a potential wife.

Let's not be too hard on the guy. He is a man of his word. Is he role model for young boys? Perhaps. He carries a sword, is physically fit,  honorable and is respected by his subjects.


The Happily Ever After 💕💕

Cinderella is a strong character. She is honorable. How she deals with her never-ending abuse (displaying self-compassion), and how, in fact, she saves herself in the end. 


Happy Reading!

Connie































Monday, March 27, 2023

The Big Sleep Controversy - by Vijaya Schartz



Every time the subject of sleep emerges in a conversation, I get different opinions. Sources differ about what’s not enough, what’s right, or what’s too much.

Recent studies on children have demonstrated that shortening sleep by 40 minutes adds significant stress to a child’s day. Adults who don’t sleep enough are also stressed… and stress affects the mood and the immune system.

I used to sleep 8 hours or more each night. Then I was told it was too much, so I reduced my sleep to the standard 7 hours. Soon, I realized it wasn’t enough. My body craved more.

Sleep quality is also a factor. Thanks to Yoga, Meditation, and Tai-Chi, as soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m in dreamland. Eliminating noise and light also contributed to better sleep.

Still. 7 hours weren’t enough. I realized I needed 7.5 hours minimum to feel refreshed and ready to face the new day.


I now understand that despite varying medical guidelines, each person is different and has different needs. It also depends on how much coffee you drink. I only have one large mug in the morning, and no caffeine during the day.

Screen time can also affect the quality of your sleep, so turn off the TV, the cell phone, or the kindle ½ hour before bed time. Warm milk also helps.

I used to be a night owl. But over the years, I discovered that I was more productive and inspired to write in the morning. So, I had to discipline myself to go to bed earlier.

Don’t tell me I sleep too much for an adult. I sleep just the right amount to be healthy, happy, and inspired. That’s what works for me.

So, don’t listen to the nay-sayers. Everyone should find their own balance in life. Sleep, work, recreation. That’s the secret of happiness. Cats already figured it out. 


I wish you all the sleep of the just.
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Vijaya Schartz, award-winning author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats

http://www.vijayaschartz.com

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Sunday, March 26, 2023

Building a story—Tricia McGill.

Find information on all my books here on my BWL Author page

It never ceases to surprise and amaze me, how my characters take over and make the decision over what will happen next. As sometimes happens, I get a short way into my story and realise one day that I am not happy where it is going, and even consider scrapping it and starting afresh. This unfortunate happening occurred to me a couple of weeks ago. I usually wake up one morning bright and early with at least a skeleton of an idea where to take my characters next, but sadly this was not to be this time. Everyday problems in our life crop up sometimes and annoyingly intrude on our ability to think straight.

Thank goodness for those characters buzzing around in our heads, not so much nagging us where to take them next but hinting that we at least need to give them the chance to get cracking. The moment I sat here at my computer and began typing everything took off, seemingly of its own accord and what happened in front of me next was that events that I had not even considered adding unfolded there before me on the screen.

I have always credited my Muse with assisting me in my writing as I am the first to admit that I am no Jane Austin or Emily Bronte, but simply a writer who likes telling stories. So now I have to wait and see where I will be taken next by this bunch of characters I created. 

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