Forced Word-Count Writing - The NaNoWriMo Word Race by S. L. Carlson

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/carlson-s-l-ya-fantasy/

November is the month for novel writing. Actually, for the writer, every month is the month for novel writing. But each November comes around with that wonderful push for writing 1,700 words per day during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). The great thing about NaNoWriMo is that you know you aren't alone. There are thousands of people world-wide participating online, and you can follow many others, encouraging and being encouraged to write-write-write.

Forced daily word-count writing is not intended to be polished. It's totally about getting the rough draft down. Revisions, edits, and critique groups follow over the next few months.


First off, November only has thirty days, so that's one day less than seven other months to meet the 50K goal. One day can make a huge difference. Also, there are holidays (in the States) with family gatherings to prepare for and attend. Right off the bat, I hate the idea of November being novel-writing month. But writing is about persevering, running the word race to the end of the book.


The first week of NaNoWriMo is exciting, and the game is on. That first week is enthusiastic pouring out of words on your new novel. The second week, other life priorities sneak in, and you stumble over the hurdles and fall behind. By week three, you figure you're too far back to ever catch up, so feel like giving it up. Many do at this point. There are writing suggestions to keep you writing, like throwing a birthday party for your main character, plan it and write it all out. At the end of the month, it will most likely become fodder and deleted, but you're inspired once again. And if you push on...week four can be just as exciting as week one.


Writing the rough draft of a novel doesn't have to happen in November, but I find the process whenever I write just the same: initial excitement of the race, lagging behind, thinking what you've written is garbage, wanting to quit, then catching your second wind and finally crossing that finish line.


So, don't give up. Join with others for writing encouragement. Get your story down. Afterwards, take a breather, then get back to it, hacking and revising and editing until your trophy is in hand. Keep on writing!

Tempus Fugit by Victoria Chatham

My favorite clock is a pretty thing I’ve had for forty-six years. However, its stained casing and tendency to quickly run down indicates its age more than the time. I find it somewhat depressing that we have already arrived at November 22, 2018. Depressing because, where has all that time, and especially this year gone? Am I the only one who struggles with this phenomenon, or does anyone else find the passage of time a puzzlement?

The seasons blur one into the other with none of the clear delineations I remember as a child and I don’t know if this is a factor. Or is it, now that I am older, I move more slowly and can’t (or more honestly) don’t want to rush and enjoy what I do because I have few distractions? 

Or is it that the retail sector bombards us with seasonal celebrations before we have even got to them. Once January 1^st rolls around Valentine products very soon hit the stores. No sooner is that done then everything moves on to Easter, and then Mother’s and Father’s Day with a dozen or more celebrations along the way of Best Friends Day, Secretary’s Day – you name it, somebody and their dog have a day. And then it’s Halloween and Thanksgiving and very soon it will be Christmas and New Year’s and the whole ball of wax starts rolling all over again.

And what do we have in between? Not always blue skies, barbeques, and baseball. But I like to think that along the way we can at least take a little time, at some point, to put down the pen, close the computer, and take a breath of fresh air while sipping on a good cup of coffee or glass of wine while we are doing it. I’ve never been a poet but do appreciate poetry and one of my favorite poems is Leisure by William Henry Davies. It begins ‘What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.’ For the full verse check out www.davidpbrown.co.uk/poetry/william-henry-davies.html.

So now that I have taken the time to complain about time, it's time to start writing again or I'll run out of time before the next chapter is finished!

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Up, up and Away

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Up, up and Away

 

Just the other day Stan Lee passed away. For those of you who don’t know he, along with artist Jack Kirby, created Marvel Comics. Many great characters were born from this; Spiderman, The Fantastic Four, Daredevil, Ironman, The Avengers, X-men, The Mighty Thor, Incredible Hulk and Captain America to name but a miniscule number of them. Obviously a very creative and talented person. I cannot begin to perceive what it takes to crank out a story a month for each one of these characters, along with what was needed to put together an entire illustrated comic book.

But even more than that he created characters that seemed real. Although they could save the world every other day, they had issues. For instances Peter Parker, aka Spiderman, couldn’t work up the courage to ask the girl he loved on a date. As a teenager growing up I could relate. There were a couple of girls I was very attracted to, but just couldn’t find the courage.

          In the days before computers and video games I’m sure there were a lot of youngsters who, like me, lived in their heads while reading comic books. I used to deliver the local newspaper through sun, rain and snow (and growing up in Edmonton there was an awful lot of the latter) and saved all of my earnings in order to rush to the local drugstore to buy the newest offering of any of the above-mentioned titles.

          I grew up collecting them and eventually became an entrepreneur. My great friend Ron Smith and I would attend comic book conventions and local flea markets buying and selling. At one time I was the proud owner of nearly 5,000 comic books. Yes, obsessed and crazy, but the one thing I have realized since is that they inspired the way I write, creating a particular mindset. When I write a scene for a novel or a short story, I see an entire picture, like a frame-to-frame page in a comic book, and put it down on paper. 

The first thing I ever had published was a letter in the fan pages of one of my comic books (1990, letter to editor, Legion of Super-Heroes #6, DC comics). Yes, I still have a copy of that today. It was the first thing that made me realise I can do it, and I am a writer, and made me continue to believe in myself. It was nearly twelve years later that I won a first-page-to-a-novel contest and that first page eventually became the first in my Stillwaters Run Deep Series, Raven’s Lament. From a very miniscule acorn a mighty oak (or maybe giant beanstalk is more apt here!) has grown.

Stan Lee was a well-respected and well-loved man. They say leave the world a better place than when you came into it. I think in his case he did just that. I’ve added a link to a video compilation of his cameos in movies made of his characters. Hope you enjoy. (Check out also my recent podcast and a teaser video; link also below.)

PS. Yes, for all of you true comic book aficionados the title is NOT from a Stan Lee inspired character, but from Superman in DC comics. But I thought it just fit as a title for a man on his way to the heavens.

 See you next month!

Stan Lee Cameo's video

My recent podcast on the Dr. Lesley Phillips show

https://drlesleyphillips.com/intuition/first-nation-legends/?fbclid=IwAR3scD3BwyEPLToYhxUYQqXp0botD4JQttZ3x1qgrQU1W5jJVpl4LLIi4yE



My Teaser video for Raven's Lament

Sincerely

Frank Talaber

twosoulmates@shaw.ca

My webpage

http://twosoulmates.wixsite.com/frankt-author-blog

Frank Talaber’s Writing Style? He usually responds with: Mix Dan Millman (Way of The Peaceful Warrior) with Charles De Lint (Moonheart) and throw in a mad scattering of Tom Robbins (Even Cowgirls Get The Blues).
PS: He’s better looking than Stephen King (Carrie, The Stand, It, The Shining) and his romantic stuff will have you gasping quicker than Robert James Waller (Bridges Of Madison County).

Or as is often said: You don’t have to be mad to be a writer, but it sure helps.

My novels on Amazon are at:  https://www.amazon.com/Frank-Talaber/e/B00UC407R0

https://www.facebook.com/FrankTalaber/

https://www.facebook.com/franktalaberpublishedauthor/ (My facebook short story page)

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/talaber-frank-suspense-urban-fantasy-canada/

Thanksgiving: How The Day Became a National Holiday in the USA

Dangerous Sanctuary by J. Q. Rose
Cozy Mystery
Find more mysteries by J.Q. Rose at BWL Publishing

Hello and welcome to the Books We Love Insiders Blog! 
I'm J.Q. Rose.

Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, November 22 in the USA

The USA celebrates Thanksgiving Day on Thursday, November 22. Our nation has celebrated this traditional event since 1863 after Abraham Lincoln signed the declaration establishing the day as a national holiday. Before this, only Washington's Birthday and Independence Day were national holidays.

I have a question for your Thanksgiving Day guests and family. Who influenced the President to consider declaring a national Thanksgiving Day? The New England states celebrated Thanksgiving, but it was not a holiday in the rest of the country. 

Writer Sarah J. Hale is credited for influencing President Lincoln's decision. She was a persistent woman, writing to five presidents asking for the holiday.  She began her campaign in 1846, but it wasn't until 1863 when she finally convinced Honest Abe to support legislation to declare Thanksgiving a national holiday. The new national holiday was considered a day that could unify the nation after the horrendous Civil War had split the country.

Not only achieving recognition for Thanksgiving Day, but also Sarah's legacy is seen in her support of establishing historic sites and in her belief for higher education for women, establishing a college for women, Vassar College. The idea of educating women was not a popular idea in the mid-1850's. She also the editor of an influential magazine, Godey's Lady's Book. 

And one more item for your trivia game on Thanksgiving Day. Sarah J. Hale wrote the nursery rhyme, "Mary's Lamb," which is now known as "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

For more information about Sarah Hale's legacy, click on the titles of the following articles:

The National Women's History Museum article on Sarah Josepha Hale (1788-1879)

Wikipedia article on Sarah Josepha Hale

***

Can you think of more questions about Thanksgiving to ask in your Trivia game? 

Please share in a comment below. Thanks. Oh, and don't forget to include the answer!!

Wishing you a 

Happy Thanksgiving

from

J.Q. Rose

Click here to connect online with J. Q. Rose

Beware the Most Dangerous Animal in the Jungle...by Stuart R. West

Of course I'm talking about the great lumbering beast: the American Ox. Otherwise known as myself.

Click for comic mystery antics.

 I don't camp. Never have, never will. Nature and I don't get along. If I so much as glance at poison ivy, I turn into a giant blister bubble. On the other hand, my wife loves camping and nature. Everything that is nature except for...the unspeakable eight-legged critters. She suffers from a truly bad case of arachnophobia. 

My wife (kinda, sorta) avoiding arachnids in the jungle (what she doesn't know won't kill her.)

Over the course of our trip, several people thought they could cure my wife's fears easy-peasy with some Dr. Phil nonsense: "Oh, the best way to conquer your fear is to face it." Someone else tried the routine of "no, no, spiders are good! They bla, bla, bla..." While their intentions were good, they've never witnessed my wife jump out of a moving car once she spotted a spider. While she was driving. Twice.

So, for obvious reasons, people thought we were crazy for going to the jungle.

My wife, um, enjoying the floor.

Me, I possess the grace of a big, clumsy meth-head trying to thread a needle. Getting in and out of the boat proved extremely problematic. Our guide, Victor--an amiable sort, fluent in English and bird-song--grew weary of my (literally) rocking the boat. Constantly, he told me to "slow down, slow down." But he didn't understand speed was the only way I kept from falling, sheer momentum my only ally. Amazingly, I didn't capsize the boat, but I capsized myself a couple of times. 

Victor standing at ease and defying gravity in our boat.

Once, Victor wanted to redistribute weight throughout the boat so he instructed me to move back a bench. I'd successfully moved myself back before by just using my arms and swinging my body backward, so I thought I could do it again. Methinks I'd forgotten the 50 pound backpack attached to my body. I fell between the benches, legs up in the air like half-price day at the old-West brothel. A particularly poor day to wear white pants (and what was I thinking wearing white pants into the jungle anyway? Terrible fashion choice.). 

A good larf was had by all (except for me and my wounded pride. Not to mention my wounded posterior).

Falling isn't anything new for me. Gravity and balance are not my friends. While escorting us across wooden planks to the local jungle health clinic, Victor remarked on one of our cohorts' very good balance. I said, "I think she has better balance than me." 

Victor readily agreed. "Much better," he said. "Much, much better."

Of COURSE nature just loves Victor.

So there I am, floundering around in the jungle, trying my damnedest not to fall on snakes or worse, planting my feet ploddingly, arms out like a new-born tyke learning to walk. Hardly jungle material.

Back to that health clinic... The Yanamano Clinic--a small, humid building just off the river--is run by a doctor from Wisconsin and services the locals (or at least those who've embraced Western medicine). The doctor, understandably frustrated by the government's lack of aid, caring and health care, ripped through a list of her recent patients and their alarming ailments. Needless to say, machete wounds topped the list. A sobering (and sweltering) visit, it truly made me grateful for what we take for granted in the States.

Solar-powered (and without air conditioning, natch), the small operating room was a sparsely lit hot-box where the doctor sweats over her patients while sewing them up. Recently, a fan had been installed (a huge deal) and a bright light bulb had been donated (again, victory). Doctors Without Borders swung by one day with good intentions and big ideas, but little could truly be done. It's a very bleak situation for both the locals and the doctors because help doesn't come from many places. And the locals are uneducated about their own ailments and what modern medicine can do for them. 

Later, I was told this was one of the better clinics. At least there weren't holes in the ceiling.

On the way out of the clinic, I made a big mistake, a huge one.

As we left the clinic, I held the door open for everyone because Mom taught me to be a gentleman. Our boat driver, Walker, glared menacingly at me as he slowly walked through my proffered opened door. Victor, our guide, actually stopped dead in his tracks, stared at me. He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head and hurried through the door. Hands flailing, they chatted animatedly and angrily back to our boat. Clearly I'd done something to offend them.

Only later did I realize my whoopsie moment. 

The culture of Peru is muy machismo. Men are men and the very mention of a "metrosexual" will get you beat up. Men drive motokars and women work in the kitchen, end of story. However, the men are fooling themselves, for women truly rule the roost. It's a very sexist culture, but only superficially so. Regardless, men take their manly manliness very manfully.

Things weren't right between Victor and myself until the end of the trip.

Friendsies again! (L to R: My wife, Victor, me, Jungle Momma Connie)

On the bright side, my wife had only one minor spider incident. In the boat, she reflexively kicked our friend's butt to get rid of a small, menacing arachnid. (I purposefully didn't tell my love about the lodge's four pet tarantulas until we'd left). Not bad odds for the jungle!

Speaking of odds, what're the odds Wendell Worthy can race against time to save his brother's life by running through downtown Kansas City in his underwear? Not very good! Find out in my comic thriller, Chili Run.

Laughs and thrills just a click away!