Writer's block? Me?

 Seeing that I'd books released in October (Whistling Fireman) and November (Bad Omen), a friend asked me if I ever had writer's block. I laughed and replied that I suffered from writer's diarrhea, with ideas flowing faster than my fingers could type them.

I think there are several reasons I'm afflicted with that malady:

-I'm disciplined. I write or research for a few hours every day. Some days, when the story is really rolling, I'll write for five, or six hours, taking breaks for walks and meals.

-I do a lot of research, which provides me with tons of information. Some of my research results in items of immediate interest. Other tidbits get stored for the future.

-I travel and enjoy tying tidbits I've seen and experienced into the books.

-I'm blessed with creative muses who pelt me with plots and subplots. I mean, lots of plots and subplots. More than I'll ever be able to use in my lifetime.

-Writing on-going series means that I know my characters well. I know how they'll react in the situations I throw them into. I sense when they're playful and likely to tease each other. I have a feel for what they might say, and what situations they might be thrown into.

-I don't have a lot of outside personal distractions. As I've often said, "I have no life!" What I mean is that I don't have a lot of drama in my personal life which allows me to concentrate on my writing without having to deal with the distractions of teen children, or intrusive neighbors. As I said in an earlier blog, writing takes emotional energy. Life's friction makes it difficult to hear the voices of the characters.

BWL recently reminded me that I needed to provide information to the designer who was available to work on the cover of "Western Justice" my upcoming 2024 Fletcher mystery. While drafting the back cover blurb and an overview of the plot, I realized that I had a general idea, but not an outline, of the following 2024 books. With the "western Justice" information sent off, I sat down and drafted the same information for the following three books. My rough ideas turned into book outlines. Drafting plot abstracts and considering photos for the cover, drew me into the location of those books, and put me into my protagonists' shoes. 

Now, here I sit with three book outlines, the visions of the locations in my mind, and characters yelling at me to sit down and record their thoughts. Yup, I'm ready for the onset of writer's diarrhea. All I need are several unstructured months in my favorite chair, with a cup of coffee at my elbow, and a blank wall where I can envision the scenes as they appear to me. 

Check out Bad Omen. I wrote for a couple of weeks before Christopher, the main character, started speaking to me. Once he warmed to me, Christopher became quite chatty. Christopher and I backed up and rewrote the early chapters, but I never lacked ideas.

Hovey, Dean - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.net)

https://www.amazon.com/Bad-Omen-Nunavut-Dean-Hovey/dp/0228627532/

Working on a YA with my granddaughter, by Diane Scott Lewis

To purchase my novels click HERE and scroll down.

I've never worked on a novel with another person, much less a girl who is almost fourteen. Please enjoy the folly and reward of this decision.

At first, Jorja was excited and we planned out the beginning of the story. I put in some suggestions, and so did she. 

I began to write it and gave her the chapters to go over. She'd change a word or two and give it back.

I said I wanted her to give me insight, story changes, different ideas.

We went over the dialog together because she said the main character, Sage, spoke too formally. That was great, just what I needed. Give me some teen slang. Do you like the direction the story is going?

The set up is three children explore a haunted house where their great-great grandmother supposedly murdered her lover. Also, a favorite teacher is found murdered near the manor five months previously. 

New people have moved into the mansion, but there's something odd about all of them. Sage hears strange footsteps and sees other inhabitants that no one else does. Are they ghosts?

Is it scary enough? She said yes. But I plan to make it even scarier. It's meant for kids twelve to fifteen, so I won't go too gory. I've enjoyed the creation of this story and will press her to contribute more. I know she will if we just buckle down in front of the computer.

Of course, Jorja is busy being a middle school teen, different friends, and new experiences. And she's working on her own novel. I love that she is writing and loves to read. She takes after her grandmother.

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

The Silver Screen and Me...by Sheila Claydon

 

Find my books here

For a variety of reasons I haven't been able to concentrate on writing recently, which means I've lost the habit of putting words on a page every day. So in an attempt to reactivate the creative juices I have been looking at my backlist and, because I frequently use places I've visited as the setting for a story, remembering what prompted me to write each particular book. It's been an enjoyable journey. So has the game I started playing, which was trying to decide which one could best be adapted into a film for the silver screen!

Pie in the sky I know, but fun nevertheless.

Out of all my books Miss Locatelli won. It has all the ingredients. A family business and a family mystery. A burglary. A far too sexy 'bad boy turned good' Italian hero. A quirky heroine with a prodigious talent and a temper to match. Some fabulous and some less than fabulous clothes! Jewellery. A large Italian family. Mouth-watering Italian food. Settings in London, England and Florence, Italy. And, of course, the ubiquitous misunderstandings that keep the reader turning the pages of a romantic fiction novel until the very end.

Then there is the intoxicating thought of all those long distance drone shots of the wonderful Italian countryside as well as the close ups of life in Florence with my characters walking across the The Ponte Vecchio or staring up at the iconic Duomo.  Equally intoxicating is the imagined bird's eye view of the River Thames in London, the Houses of Parliament, the parks, the interior of one of the city's famous hotels. If only!

I'm quite sure actually having my book turned into a film would be far less exciting than imagining it. For a start I would lose control and have to watch as producers and directors decided to alter parts of my story. None of the actors would look the same as my imagined characters either. The settings would be different from the ones I had imagined, probably the clothes too. They might even leave out my favourite scene or, horror of horrors, change the ending! It happens.

While J K Rowling, whose Harry Potter books were such best sellers long before they were filmed, was able to influence filming, most writers cannot. One writer, when interviewed, said that when she sold her book to a production company she had to accept that the story was no longer hers and just enjoy spending the money instead. And that is another problem. Mostly writers make very little money despite their book being the heart of the film. And then there are all those other books, the ones that despite being sold  never actually make it to the silver screen.

Still, imaging how my book might be adapted has been good fun, and trying to decide which particular scene I would most like to see filmed was too, although in the case of Miss Locatelli  I'm still working on it. It's been a good mental exercise and who knows, it might just prompt me to start putting words on paper again.

Try it with one of your own books if you are a writer. And if you're not, then try imagining filming your favourite novel or, better still, your favourite book from Books We Love. 

Celebrations In A Fantasy World by Helen Henderson

Windmaster  by Helen Henderson
Click the title for purchase information

Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, just a few of the holidays that are around the corner. Traditions can vary by culture or region, or even within a family. What you do when you have a houseful of small children changes when the little ones are now grown up with families of their own. The Windmaster Novel are based in worlds of fantasy. So why am I writing about holidays?

Early in my writing career (back when I traveled the dark side, non-fiction) experience told me one of the ways to make a world of imagination, in that case the historical past, was to ensure the article or book had points of commonality between the world they knew and the one they were reading about. That same theory carried over to fiction.

Changes of the seasons and gathering of friends and family are two things that can be associated with a holiday or special event. The question is especially difficult when the seasons are different or there is a different term for the world's circle around the sun. A "turn" is the same as an earth 'year,' so a Turn's End celebration is equivalent to a New Year's Eve party. 

While there are no actual recounts of a Turn's End event in the Windmaster Novels, there are references in Windmaster and Windmaster Legacy. In the second book, the memory of dancing at a turn's end party transformed a hostile reception to one of old friends.

The following excerpt comes from Windmaster. Like the first it reference how the beginning of a new season is celebrated. To set the scene, Ellspeth is in her home port and has just been invited to a gala party in the king's gardens.

Ellspeth performed a fast mental inventory of what gowns were packed in the wooden trunks in the adjacent attic storage rooms. The green one she wore to the last turn’s end festivities piqued her interest. Eighth hour, she decided, should be just enough time to air the preserving leaves from the gown. 

Now that you have been given a little insight into the world of Windmaster, whether they are with friends or family, large affairs or small intimate ones, enjoy your holidays.

To purchase the Windmaster Novels: BWL

 ~Until next month, stay safe and read.   Helen

Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky who have adopted her as one the pack. Find out more about her and her novels on her BWL author page.

 

The Place that Held You by Nancy M Bell

 

Laurel's Choice releases December 1, 2023

For this and the other books in the series please click the cover. 

It hasn't been that long since Remembrance Day and my thoughts turn to those who went bravely into the unknown and never returned home. Some who came home did so injured both in body and spirit. When I was a child we lived with my grandparents. My grandfather served in WW1 with the engineering corps and his brother, my great uncle lost his life on August 8, 1918 at the Somme. Uncle Joe is buried in France near a small town called Marcelcave. My Uncle Jim, my mother's brother served in WW2 and spent time in a German POW camp before coming home.

There are so many stories that have never been told, and so many we are losing as these brave souls pass on. It is important that we and the younger generations remember those who gave their lives in all the past wars and those who are currently putting their lives in danger to protect us on home soil.

I love the initiative No Stone Left Alone where the graves of soldiers are visited by school children and others. I wish I could visit Uncle Joe way over there in France. But I hold him in my thoughts and I tell them all in my prayers "The Place that Held You is Still There and I remember you.

We will remember you, all of you.

This is poem I wrote for Uncle Joe.

Somme

Sleep

Nancy M Bell 

Crouched and ready we wait,

Dawn is late in coming

And when it does it is shrouded

In mist and fog

It is more than the damp and wet

That sends the shivers over our skin

Anticipation and fear war with each other

Where are the tanks that are supposed to support us?

 Sky and earth merge when we peek over the top

Stitched together by mizzle and mist

Yards away, across the trampled earth

The enemy crouch and wait as we do

Where are the tanks? The support?

Whispers and rumours run up and down the line

Then—suddenly the wait is over

“Over the top, boys,” the sergeant yells

 And we go

Surging out of our earthen burrows

Running, firing blind, blinking in the fog

No time to think, only to run and fire

Ducking bullets whining by our ears

Then—it stops

I open my mouth and spit mud

Blood, hot and cold runs through my fingers

The old guys were right

There is no pain when it happens

Just a mixed sensation of disbelief

And relief…

Even if I die right here in the mud

It’s over:

The fear;

the wet;

the lice;

the killing.

Somewhere my mates are yelling and shots echo

But around me there is an odd silence

A separation from the man-made hell

One hand clutching my gut,

the other somehow still wrapped around my rifle

I let the lark song sing me to sleep.