Friday, May 3, 2019

The Who, WHAT, Where, Why and When of Writing - Part 2

In Part One, we reflected about who we are and how much we wanted to write. In short:

A lot of writers just dive in when the muse strikes and we reach for laptops, paper, receipts, napkins...whatever is as hand to put our thoughts into written form. Some writers practice writing every day, using morning pages to empty their minds of doubt and rambling thoughts before they get to the task of creating. Yet others, ponder the universe and wait for divine inspiration before they are able to sit down to write. Personally, I've been known to scribble ideas into a notebook while cooking dinner. Sticks of spaghetti do not make good pens.

In Part Two, we're moving on to WHAT??? We've identified the urge to write and create, now it's time to take it a step further and discover what you want to write?

What do you like to read?
A lot of writers tend to read all sorts of genres before they settle into an area - loosely defined at times - that they enjoy reading and eventually writing. I worked my way up though the Dick and Jane series back in elementary, then graduated to Wind in the Willows before I discovered The Hardy Boys alongside Nancy Drew, UFO books, and anything else that made my creativity soar. I dug into Sidney Sheldon novels before I'd even hit high school.

What if I like more than one genre?
Chances are you like more than one type of fruit or candy. Just like in the food world, there are no rules that say you can only read or even write only one genre. Writers mix them up all the time.
Romantic suspense, Erotic fantasy, Paranormal mysteries, the combinations are limited only by your own imagination.

What if I have no idea what to write?
At very basic, write about your life. Start with a childhood memory and exaggerate it. Write about the brother you wished you'd had. About the house you wished you'd lived in. About how your grandfather smoked a pipe after dinner every night and you would sit close to him and watch the smoke swirl around his head while the sweet scent of his tobacco tickled your nose.
Then take it up a notch and create a story around it.

How do you come up with ideas?
Writing prompts are a great starting point. You can find them on web sites, at writing group meetings, and in any endless number of books on the subject. (Oh look, something to write about!) One method we use in our writing group is to choose a book then turn to a random page, find a sentence, and GO!

Conversations are you may have or overhear during your day are great sources of inspiration as well. I've had ideas come from lines on television shows or even whole shows may spark a fresh novel. The whole idea isn't to copy someone else's work. Plagarism is a no-no. It's completely allowable to use a line, an image or a phrase as a starting point to grow your own work.

What if I don't like what I wrote?
Then congratulations. You're just as insecure as the rest of us!
Seriously, though. Once you start a poem, short story, or even a novel, you don't have to live with it if you don't like it. Sometimes it helps to put it away for a while and take another look at it weeks, months, or even years down the road. If you still don't like it then, shred it and start over. In the meantime, don't sit idle. More ideas and inspirations will strike. Eventually, you will write something you will love and turn it into something you want to share with the entire world.

What if my mother doesn't like what I wrote?
Once more we go back to a Who question. Who are you writing for? You? Your mother? Your grandpa? When I was starting out writing as a kid, my mom would say my stories were good, BUT.... I'd go back to my room and vow never to show her my stories again. It didn't take me long to realize I wrote my stories for me. Not for anyone else. Now that I have books published, that doesn't change. Yes, I want to entertain people and have them read my stories, but if I don't like what I write, I'm very sure they won't either.

How do I get published?
First you write. Then we'll talk...

Diane Bator
Author of Wild Blue Mysteries, Gilda Wright Mysteries and Glitter Bay Mysteries
Mom of 3 boys and 2 cats and a mouse we can't find...








Thursday, May 2, 2019

May is Science Fiction and Fantasy Month at BWL Publishing Inc.

Enhance your reading experiences by enjoying books written by
professional authors from around the world.  May's feature books are
Science Fiction and Fantasy
Visit the BWL Publishing website http://bookswelove.net and 
click the book covers for details and purchase information
    
    
    
    
   

Wednesday, May 1, 2019

NEW RELEASES FOR MAY 2019

IT'S TIME FOR MAY FLOWERS, AND PICKING THE CHOICEST FROM OUR GARDEN BWL PUBLISHING IS HAPPY TO BRING OUR READERS THE FOLLOWING BOUQUETS





London 1661, the new king is on the thrown, but old religious beliefs and Medieval superstition still prevail.  

Catholics are not tolerated in this new era.  Edgar and Emmatha Torbet are papists and fraternal twins, which means their mother was an adulteress.   

One of them is a legitimate heir, the other is a bastard.  Which one of them is it?










  ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ



Detective John Robichaud knelt over the dead body of a man lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. Wasn't there enough blood being spilled in this damn war, he thought as he studied the puncture wound in the man's neck. He looked up and spotted the union button pinned to his hat a few feet away: he was a stevedore.

* * * 
Robichaud and his partner, Pete Duncan, would soon be on the trail of a villain with ties to a major European criminal organization in Marseilles looking for a foothold on this side of the ocean. But had not counted on him and Duncan.






http://bookswelove.net/authors/doucette-h-paul-suspense-historical/

ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ ᔓᔓᔓᔓᔓ


Who murdered Lady Pentreath? The year is 1781, and the war with the American colonies rages across the sea. In Truro, England Branek Pentreath, a local squire, has suffered for years in a miserable marriage. Now his wife has been poisoned with arsenic. Is this unhappy husband responsible? Or was it out of revenge?

Branek owns the apothecary shop where Jenna Rosedew, two years a widow, delights in serving her clients. Branek might sell her building to absolve his debts caused by the war—and put her out on the street.  Jenna prepared the tinctures for Lady Pentreath, which were later found to contain arsenic. The town’s corrupt constable has a grudge against Branek and Jenna. He threatens to send them both to the gallows.

Can this feisty widow and brooding squire come together, believe in each other’s innocence— fight the attraction that grows between them—as they struggle to solve the crime before it’s too late?

 http://bookswelove.net/authors/lewis-diane-scott-historical-romance/



Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Adventures with a 1958 Ford by Margaret Hanna


          
                                                        




Caption: “Picnic with the ‘58 Ford: Margaret, Richard and Grandma Hanna watch while Mom cooks lunch”

In the spring of 1958, my Dad traded in the ‘53 Ford and bought a brand new Ford car. It was cream and green. It had the newest mod-cons: an automatic transmission (for the first few days, Dad kept stomping on the non-existent clutch) and signal lights – no more sticking his arm out the window to signal.

The day he brought it home, he loaded my brother and me into the car and we drove through Meyronne, giving rides to everyone.  “Look, it shifts automatically!” or “Look, I can signal a turn!” he exclaimed to everyone.

There was only one problem – the car was a lemon. We soon invented a game – “Name That Noise!” – we played every time we drove somewhere. That car spent as much time in the repair shop as it did in our garage.

And it was after one of those repair episodes that we had our most memorable (mis)adventure.

Dad had taken the car in to get some work done on the transmission. When he brought it home, the car had a noticeable growl originating from the “rear end.” He took it back to the garage. “Don’t worry,” they told him, “the gear just has to settle in,” or words to that effect.

The noise continued. In fact, it seemed to get louder as days went by.

Then came the trip to Estevan in southeastern Saskatchewan to celebrate Thanksgiving (Note: Canadian Thanksgiving  – first Monday in October) with Uncle George and Aunt Jean. By now the noise was getting very loud. People turned their heads to watch as we drove by. Inside, we could barely hear each other talk over the growling.

After a wonderful weekend of eating and visiting and touring the coal fields, it was time to return home.

We left Estevan after supper for the four-hour drive home. The very noisy four-hour drive home. Richard and I fell asleep in the back seat. Mom was asleep in the front seat.

Just west of Assiniboia, it happened.

BANG! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Then silence, except for the sound of the engine.

The car drifted to a stop, the engine revving.
“What the . . . ?” I won’t repeat what else Dad said.

Dad got out of the car to discover bits and pieces of the transmission and the drive shaft scattered across the highway and in the ditch. Whatever had been growling had finally yielded to metal fatigue.

We were stranded. It was almost midnight. Fortunately, our disaster had happened not too far from a farm owned by people we knew.

To make a long story short (and my husband says I know how to make a short story long), they gave us a ride home. The next morning, Dad drove back with the old ‘51 International truck, picked up the pieces, and towed the car – and pieces – back to the garage. 

To say Dad was “not amused” is a gross understatement. To this day, we maintain that we could see the blue smoke as Dad cussed out the mechanic. And this was in the neighbouring town, seven miles away!

The car was fixed. It never growled again.

But then there was the time the fuel pump died . . .


                                                          

                            Caption: “Abe’s Chevrolet on Hwy 13, just west of Meyronne”

My grandparents, Abe and Addie Hanna, also had automobile adventures. Here’s an except from Chapter 26: Horseless Carriages, from “Our Bull’s Loose in Town!” Tales from the Homestead

            On the way back to Airdrie, the car devils struck again. First, the fan belt broke in Willis’ car and then the lights burned out in ours. It was still light, and Willis said he knew a handy garage in Calgary where they could repair everything, but wouldn’t you know it, we got lost and wandered around the streets of Calgary for over an hour before Willis found the place. I was tired and so were the children; Garnet was really fussing, he was barely three years old, and I could tell Abe was tired too ‘cause he was getting quite cranky. We finally got home at midnight and the lights of that farm never looked so good. We all fell into bed and slept like babies.
            It took us three days to get home. First day, we got as far as Suffield and stayed overnight in the hotel there. The next day, we encountered “heavy” roads, muddy and rutted due to several thunderstorms the day before. We saw a few motor cars still in the ditch and some in the process of being pulled out with teams of horses. “Ha! Look at that!” I said. “And they say cars are better than horses. If that’s so, then why does it take a team to pull out a car?” And we all got a chuckle out of that.

Popular Posts

Books We Love Insider Blog

Blog Archive