When Rayne asked to do another post about writing fight scenes, I jumped at the chance to hostess. And it couldn't have come at a better time since I'm at the point with Boulevard of Bad Spells and Broken Dreams where Kira needs to kick some ass--and she still has no idea how dangerous she can be. The villains are counting on her not realizing her potential, but things are about to change.
Rayne's last post on Writing Fight Scenes engendered lots of lively discussion, and I suspect this one will as well. For those of you who don't know, Rayne's classes (and I've taken many of them) on fight scenes, magic, and magical weapons are a must for any fantasy writer. Her bio and links to register for her upcoming class is at the end of the post.
Without further ado, I give you Rayne Hall who, if you haven't noticed the Queen's English, hails from England.
Today's readers expect the heroine to fight her own way out of trouble. Screaming, swooning, and waiting for the hero to come to the rescue is no longer enough.
If your heroine is trained in martial arts, she has a whole range of techniques at her disposal. Half a year of martial arts training can be sufficient for a spirited defence.
For inspiration, watch self-defence demonstrations on YouTube until you find a maneuvre you can adapt for your scene. Here are some links to get you started:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGW7eVzulg0
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QO2FEdtRi44&feature=related
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzkhvydILYY&feature=related
www.youtube.com/watch?v=yH-vgvUEFbI
For further YouTube clips, use the keyword 'self-defence' (or 'self-defense').
But not every woman is a skilled martial artist, or trained to wield a weapon, or drilled in self-defence. A novice can't disable a thug with a roundhouse kick, and a Victorian damsel won't fell her attacker with an uppercut. Fear may lend strength and courage, but it doesn't grant implausible skills.
Here's the solution: the heroine performs a self-defence move which doesn't require prior training. Although it won't defeat the villain, it will buy her precious seconds during which she can escape from his clutches.
Choose one of these six techniques:
1. She uses her feet. Attackers expect their victims to defend themselves with their hands, so they hold the victim in a way which prevents her from moving her arms. However, your heroine is clever: she stomps her heel down on his foot. This works especially well if she's wearing high heels. The pain makes him relax his grip, though only for a moment, so she may follow this with #2.
2. She kicks him in the leg. This makes him stagger and loosen his grip for a moment. Depending on how he holds her, she can kick forwards, backwards or sidewards. She can kick his shin, his calf, his knee, his thigh, or his crotch, as long as she kicks hard. Her kick has more power if she first bends her leg and pulls her knee towards her torso and kicks from this position. (In martial arts lingo: she chambers her leg.) This allows her to kick stronger and higher, but it needs to be done quickly.
3. If she's shorter than her attacker, she sags against him as if in defeat, then suddenly straightens, ramming her head under his chin. This hurts her head, but it hurts his jaw a lot more. As he loosens his grip in pain and surprise, she breaks free.
4. If she has a hand free, she spreads the first and middle fingers and stabs them into his eyes. This blinds him temporarily, giving her time to escape. It doesn't work if he wears glasses. The violence of this method makes it unsuitable for gentle forms of fiction, and the heroine should use it only against a bad guy, not against an honourable enemy or innocent prison guard.
5. She can go for his balls. Every woman knows that a man's privates are vulnerable, and if she can punch or squeeze him there, he'll probably be out of action long enough for her to make her escape. However, men are aware of their vulnerability. Only a very stupid attacker would allow a female victim to grab his bits. Besides, this method is so over-used in fiction that it has become a predictable cliche. You could make it less predictable by letting the heroine use her elbow or her knee.
6. She can use a skill from a different context, for example, from her hobby or her job, and adapt it as a self-defence maneuvre. If her hobby is yoga, she can use her flexibility to slip out of her attacker's grasp. If she's a ballet dancer, she can fell him with a fouette. She can also use a tool of her trade as a weapon: the archaeologist may do something nifty with a trowel, the hair stylist with the curling iron, the gardener with the spade. In real life, these would probably not work - but they feel realistic, because the heroine's special skill has been established.
Since the aim of self-defense is to escape the danger, rather than to defeat an opponent, self-defence scenes tend to be very short. Often, they are just a paragraph within a larger scene.
Readers love self-defence scenes, especially if it's a woman defending herself against a man. You may want to insert a self-defence scene - or even a single self-defence paragraph - in your novel. Perhaps the heroine puts up a spirited fight before the kidnappers overpower her. Perhaps she has to fight the prison guard who tries to stop her escape. Maybe she wards off a lecher's forceful advances. In romance novels, the heroine may even fight off the hero - of course only at the beginning of the novel, before they've become allies. Near the end of the book, she's more likely to fight at the hero's side against the forces of evil.
If you have questions about writing fight scenes, feel free to ask. I'll be around for a week and will respond.
Rayne Hall writes dark fantasy and horror. She has published more than twenty books under different pen names in different genres, and her stories have earned Honorable Mentions in 'The Years' Best Fantasy and Horror'. She holds a college degree in publishing management and a masters degree in creative writing, and teaches online classes.
Even if you've never wielded a weapon, you can write an exciting fight scene. Rayne will show you how in her workshop on 'Writing Fight Scenes', which starts on 1 June 2011:
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
The Doe and The Dragon by Andrew Richardson
Andrew Richardson and I have been longstanding critique partners, which should be no surprise to those of you reading my blogs. Despite our very different styles, and what were initially very different genres, our authorial personalities seem to mesh, probably because we both are willing to do some heavy lifting with our writing muscles and try something different while the other serves as a spotter to be sure we don't drop a fifty pound barbell on our chest.
We don't love everything each other writes (his horror stories give me nightmares, and my childbirth scenes make him queasy and uneasy), but objectivity and tough love prevail. The Shoot has long been one of my favorite of his erotic shorts (see why here) and his upcoming release The Doe and The Dragon threatens to unseat it.
I've seen this novel from the first draft to the final one, and loved it. If, like me, you have always been intrigued by Arthurian legend and lore, there is no better place to begin—before it all began—with Andrew's rendition of how Uther Pendragon, the man who would father King Arthur, met his mate.
A shade less bloodcurdling than most of Andrew's supernatural horror novels Andraste’s Blade and The Wood, this more traditional fantasy has it all—sword and sorcery, witchcraft, prophecy, gallantry, vengeance, and epic battles all presented with as much historical accuracy as possible for a time, place, and people swathed in the cloak of mythology.
Andrew describes The Doe and The Dragon as a novel which “follows the north Welsh version of sixth century legends. These stories place national events in a local setting and so give a distinctive Welsh flavour. […] Other ‘non-Arthurian’ characters appearing only in the local legends and have been incorporated into this work. As with any story set in the ‘Arthurian’ period, no matter which sources are used as an inspiration, part of the writer’s job has been to uncover characters about whom little is known, and to flesh them out in the way that makes them real.”
The Doe and The Dragon will be published May 1 by Rogue Phoenix Press. Connect with Andrew on Facebook or on his blog
Conflict of Interest and Financial Disclaimers: I have received no compensation, monetary or otherwise, for this review. This review has not been submitted, nor will it be, to any established review organizations of which I am a staff member.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Sometimes There Are No Rainchecks
There are just some things you can't put off and death is one of them. No, not mine. My father, who has been very ill with lymphoma for six years, is now terminally ill. I am spending as much time as I can with him, given my full time job and family responsibilities, knowing each time might be the last.
It's a two hour round trip commute, and though I am used to being around and caring for dying patients, it takes on a whole different perspective when it's your own family member. Not to mention the emotional upheaval for my mother, my sisters, my kids, and my nieces and nephews.
Dad and I have always been very close and talked about these things a lot, so my time spent with him is quite peaceful. We go outside when he's able, but most of the time I just sit with him, help him to eat and drink, and do a lot of reading and thinking while he's asleep.
I am meeting hard deadlines, but doing very little else. If I owe you something, please be assured I am working on it when I can and will get it out as soon as possible.
Thanks for all the prayers, support and words of encouragement being sent my way. They mean a lot to me and my family.
It's a two hour round trip commute, and though I am used to being around and caring for dying patients, it takes on a whole different perspective when it's your own family member. Not to mention the emotional upheaval for my mother, my sisters, my kids, and my nieces and nephews.
Dad and I have always been very close and talked about these things a lot, so my time spent with him is quite peaceful. We go outside when he's able, but most of the time I just sit with him, help him to eat and drink, and do a lot of reading and thinking while he's asleep.
I am meeting hard deadlines, but doing very little else. If I owe you something, please be assured I am working on it when I can and will get it out as soon as possible.
Thanks for all the prayers, support and words of encouragement being sent my way. They mean a lot to me and my family.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Luna Con and Taos Toolbox
I am alive. The submission deadline for the DelRay Contest is 3/18. I've been working nonstop on revisions of The Widow's Walk I'm now more than half way through final edits and formatting. Big kisses to all those who've critiqued any of my chapters on OWW, and to Brent and Andrew, my RFDR's on critters.org, who have read the whole thing in record time.
It will be done, so help me God. But I haven't been doing anything else, except recovering from some nasty virus which knocked me out a couple weeks ago, then made a back handed swipe this week. I'm still coughing.
For those who don't follow my Facebook or LiveJournal (please do), I've been accepted to Taos Toolbox this summer. Am I excited at a chance to work with Walter Jon Williams, Nancy Kress, and Jack Skillingshead? You bet? My project will be my new urban fantasy: Boulevard of Bad Spells and Broken Dreams. Stay tuned for chapters on OWW and critters, as soon as I get The Widow's Walk launched
Time to celebrate, and relax. I hope to see some of you next weekend at LunaCon. Please let me know if you're going so we can meet up. Am I missing something? I can't find a program anywhere. My emails to volunteer went unanswered, and the program committed has yet to respond. Makes it a little hard to plan. Not that I've had any time for that.
It will be done, so help me God. But I haven't been doing anything else, except recovering from some nasty virus which knocked me out a couple weeks ago, then made a back handed swipe this week. I'm still coughing.
For those who don't follow my Facebook or LiveJournal (please do), I've been accepted to Taos Toolbox this summer. Am I excited at a chance to work with Walter Jon Williams, Nancy Kress, and Jack Skillingshead? You bet? My project will be my new urban fantasy: Boulevard of Bad Spells and Broken Dreams. Stay tuned for chapters on OWW and critters, as soon as I get The Widow's Walk launched
Time to celebrate, and relax. I hope to see some of you next weekend at LunaCon. Please let me know if you're going so we can meet up. Am I missing something? I can't find a program anywhere. My emails to volunteer went unanswered, and the program committed has yet to respond. Makes it a little hard to plan. Not that I've had any time for that.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Writing Fight Scenes with Rayne Hall: Kick Some Arse With Improvised Weapons
Rayne Hall writes dark fantasy and horror. She has published more than twenty books under different pen names in different genres, and her stories have earned Honorable Mentions in The Years' Best Fantasy and Horror. She holds a college degree in publishing management, a masters degree in creative writing, and teaches online classes on many writing topics.
I've had the pleasure of working with Rayne for many years on critters.org, Online Writer's Workshop, and on a much more personal level in the Professional Author's Group and the brand new Fantasy Fiction Forum where we review and discuss fantasy and dark fiction.
Her classes are well-researched, meticulously crafted, and her attention to students is impeccable. I have already put what what I've learned to use in my own stories.
Even if you've never wielded a weapon, you can write an exciting fight scene. Rayne will show you how, in her workshops on Writing Fight Scenes. Here's a sample, and I urge you take advantage of the generous offer to answer reader's questions.
Readers love heroines who are spunky and resourceful and who can kick male a***e (British spelling). You can combine all three in a creative fight scene in which your heroine defends herself with an improvised weapon.
This reflects psychological reality: When women feel threatened, they instinctively grab something to use as a weapon: a brick, milk bottle, toilet brush, flower pot, or frying pan. For the writer, this is a wondeful opportunity to create an unusual fight scene.
Improvised weapons can be highly effective. I've fought off one attacker with the oar from a rowing boat, and another with my garden spade. In both instances, I didn't need to do much fighting. The attackers were so surprised when their defenceless victim was suddenly armed, that they ran off. A friend's violent ex-husband repeatedly broke into her home, threatening her and the children. One day, she was cooking supper when he attacked her. She hit him on the head with the the cast iron frying pan: that was the last time he bothered her.
Admittedly, improvised weapons don't work as well against gun-armed thugs and professional assassins. However, your readers will be willing to suspend their disbelief as long as you create an illusion of reality.
The trick is to choose an object the heroine has used in other contexts. If the readers observe her ability wield the item skillfully in a non-combat situation, they will believe she can adapt this skill for self-defence.
What objects does your heroine handle in her everyday life? What are the tools of her trade, her professional instruments, her hobby equipment?
Here are some ideas to stimulate your imagination:
The passionate knitter stabs her attacker with her knitting needles. The amateur gardener trips her assailant with the hose pipe and hits him with the spade. The cook slams the cast iron frying pan on the attacker's head. The chambermaid fights back with the mop and the toilet brush. The archaeologist applies her sharp pointed trowel. The hair stylist uses the hairbrush, the scissors, the hairspray or the hot curling iron. The baker throws a handful of flour in his face to blind the thug for a moment, then whacks him with the rolling pin.
If she has martial arts training, she can supplement these actions with genuine punches, throws and kicks.
Readers will love your heroine for her spunk and her resourcefulness, and enjoy every moment of this original fight.
If you'd to discuss ideas for improvised weapons your heroine may use, or if you have questions about fight scene writing, leave a comment and I'll reply. I look forward to hearing from you.
Rayne's next workshops are being offered in March 2011 at: www.celtichearts.org/workshops.html and June 2011at http://www.blogger.com/goog_2090201035
I've had the pleasure of working with Rayne for many years on critters.org, Online Writer's Workshop, and on a much more personal level in the Professional Author's Group and the brand new Fantasy Fiction Forum where we review and discuss fantasy and dark fiction.
Her classes are well-researched, meticulously crafted, and her attention to students is impeccable. I have already put what what I've learned to use in my own stories.
Even if you've never wielded a weapon, you can write an exciting fight scene. Rayne will show you how, in her workshops on Writing Fight Scenes. Here's a sample, and I urge you take advantage of the generous offer to answer reader's questions.
Readers love heroines who are spunky and resourceful and who can kick male a***e (British spelling). You can combine all three in a creative fight scene in which your heroine defends herself with an improvised weapon.
This reflects psychological reality: When women feel threatened, they instinctively grab something to use as a weapon: a brick, milk bottle, toilet brush, flower pot, or frying pan. For the writer, this is a wondeful opportunity to create an unusual fight scene.
Improvised weapons can be highly effective. I've fought off one attacker with the oar from a rowing boat, and another with my garden spade. In both instances, I didn't need to do much fighting. The attackers were so surprised when their defenceless victim was suddenly armed, that they ran off. A friend's violent ex-husband repeatedly broke into her home, threatening her and the children. One day, she was cooking supper when he attacked her. She hit him on the head with the the cast iron frying pan: that was the last time he bothered her.
Admittedly, improvised weapons don't work as well against gun-armed thugs and professional assassins. However, your readers will be willing to suspend their disbelief as long as you create an illusion of reality.
The trick is to choose an object the heroine has used in other contexts. If the readers observe her ability wield the item skillfully in a non-combat situation, they will believe she can adapt this skill for self-defence.
What objects does your heroine handle in her everyday life? What are the tools of her trade, her professional instruments, her hobby equipment?
Here are some ideas to stimulate your imagination:
The passionate knitter stabs her attacker with her knitting needles. The amateur gardener trips her assailant with the hose pipe and hits him with the spade. The cook slams the cast iron frying pan on the attacker's head. The chambermaid fights back with the mop and the toilet brush. The archaeologist applies her sharp pointed trowel. The hair stylist uses the hairbrush, the scissors, the hairspray or the hot curling iron. The baker throws a handful of flour in his face to blind the thug for a moment, then whacks him with the rolling pin.
If she has martial arts training, she can supplement these actions with genuine punches, throws and kicks.
Readers will love your heroine for her spunk and her resourcefulness, and enjoy every moment of this original fight.
If you'd to discuss ideas for improvised weapons your heroine may use, or if you have questions about fight scene writing, leave a comment and I'll reply. I look forward to hearing from you.
Rayne's next workshops are being offered in March 2011 at: www.celtichearts.org/workshops.html and June 2011at http://www.blogger.com/goog_2090201035
Friday, January 14, 2011
Please Give A Warm Welcome to Ginger Simpson
I’m thrilled to welcome Ginger Simpson. She’s had busy year and signed multiple contracts including her new releases “Hurricane Warning” with Muse it Up Publishing and White Heart, Lakota Spirit with Eternal Press.
A face materialized from beneath the slicker. Masculine eyes, as dark as onyx peered at her. “I was wondering the same."
He swept back his hood, allowing his ebony hair to dance in the blustery current. His square jaw and tanned face softened with a smile. “I’m your neighbor from down the street. I thought perhaps you might need some assistance. My sister, Marcie, tells me you live alone. If this storm notches itself up a bit, we’re in for a turbulent night.”
Against warning bells about strangers, she sought escape from the elements. She knew his sister…maybe, the name rang vaguely familiar. “Please, come in.” Linda gestured, but kept a tight grip on the door to keep it from slamming into the wall. Her heart thudded. Would her murder top the evening news? She could just see the headline now, “Stupid woman opens door to stranger during storm.”
A normal morning turns to disaster when a small war party attacks Grace Cummings’ family and slaughters everyone but her. She returns to the Lakota camp filled with hatred, anger and fear, but through the help of another white woman in camp, learns the Lakota way. Broken treaties, dead buffalo, and the white man's foray of gold in the sacred hills give the people reason to defend themselves. When white soldiers invade the camp and presume to rescue Grace, she must decide where her heart lies.
Dakota Plains, 1874
Papa scraped the last speck of egg from his plate and set it aside. "I s’pect Kev and me’ll find gold any day now. People are discoverin’ it all around us. When we make our strike, we can find some land and build a real house. It’s sure to happen soon… afore summer is past and the weather turns cold. In fact, Sassy, you and yer ma might want to start gatherin’ fair-sized stones and rocks for our fireplace." He pointed to the lean-to, still in progress. "In the meantime, Kev and I will finish our temporary shelter, so we can spread out a bit."
No more climbing in and out of a wagon to sleep. Grace clapped. "Oh, Papa, that souds so good." She sobered and flashed the look that always won him over…the half-pout, wistful gaze. "When we finally settle in our real house, it will be near a town, won’t it? Otherwise, how do you expect me to be courted out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"I’m not so sure I want you to be cour..."
He jerked around and looked over his shoulder. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Kevin asked.
"I hear it, Papa," Grace chimed in. "Sounds like yelling."Her father stood and scanned the horizon. He pointed. "Look. There!"
A group of riders emerged from a dust cloud in the distance. The yelling grew louder as they came closer. The furrows in her father’s brow frightened Grace. "What is it, Papa?"
He darted for the wagon. "It’s Injuns! Hurry! You two women get inside and keep low. Kevin, get yer rifle!"
Grace’s heartbeat quickened and fear clutched her chest, making it hard to breathe. She’d heard about savages, but never saw one up close. She didn’t want to. Her mother stood frozen in place. Grace grabbed her hand and pulled. "C’mon, Mama, we’d better do as Papa says."
They ran around to the back of the wagon, and her mother boosted her up and over the closed tailgate. Grace dove inside, her mind filled with horrible thoughts. Would she get scalped or worse…were they all going to die.
All the while, piercing yells sliced the air while thundering hooves pounded the ground. Realizing her mother hadn’t followed, Grace rose up on her knees and peeked outside. A pack of whooping Indians rode round and round the wagon, their voices creating a din of eerie screams while bullets exploded. The hair on Grace’s arms stood on end. She covered her ears, crouched against the sidewall and prayed the savages would go away. Shots rang out from beneath the wagon when Papa and Kevin returned fire.
Whoa! That got my heart racing! Ginger, can you tell us a little about yourself?
I was born and lived most of my life in California. I started in Southern, ended up in Northern, and lived there for over twenty years. California is filled with type-A personalities and is where road rage was born. I moved to Tennessee in 2004, after I retired, and it was like taking a step into the Twilight Zone. The southern hospitality you’ve heard of is true, but so is the laid-back attitude. Customer service is friendly, but slower than molasses, and people don’t think it’s rude if they don’t return your phone calls. There’s always “Fixin’ to” or “Aimin’ to.” I love it here, though and I wouldn’t go back to California on a bet.
How long have you been writing?
I’ve been writing as long as I can recall, whether it be Christmas newsletters to family to share the year’s events or creating silly poems or skits for office celebrations. My first novel experience seemed almost like someone telling me a story, and I couldn’t wait to see how it ended. That’s when I discovered I’m a pantser, not a plotter. I’ve never plotted a story. My tales are character driven and unless they talk to me, I can’t write. Luckily, I seem to have a revolving door in my brain, because I’ve yet to run out of people with stories to share. Once I have the story down, then it’s my job as the author to go back and turn it into a novel by adding all the emotions, smells, and conflict. I turn the “telling” into “showing.”
Wow! I’m a panster, too! There aren’t too many of us out there. And like me, you write a lot of different things, including nonfiction. What is your favorite genre?
I started my first novel in 2001 and it was published in 2003. I was honoured to have my first attempt result in a contract.
Given the myriad of westerns I was exposed to while growing up, it isn’t surprising that Western Historical is my favorite. A steady diet of good ol’ TV shoot ‘em ups and reading everything written by Laura Ingalls Wilder probably defined my destiny.
I’ve tried my hand at many genres because the characters that pop into my mind aren’t always toting a six gun or riding a horse. Linda Morrison, my heroine in "Hurricane Warning" showed up one day and wanted me to share the start of her new life in Florida. Divorced and happy to be in a new home, she’s faced with her first threat of a hurricane.
Which have been the hardest genres to write?
Anyone who writes historical novels will tell you that they are much more time consuming because of the research involved. You’d best get your historical details right or you’ll lose credibility as an author in that genre. Historical comes easy to me because I have such a passion for the era and the people who lived back then. What is hard for me is the manuscript I’m trying to complete now. This is the first one story concept that came without a hero or heroine. Instead, like the title, The Locket, the main character is a necklace. Try talking to an inanimate object.
You once shared an experience that you had which led you to believe you were a male in a former life? Can you tell us more, and how that has affected your writing?
I attended a meeting of Astro Soul many years ago with a friend. She was a firm believer in the afterlife, and I guess you could call me a skeptic. After having a “healing” which released adhering spirits from this life and allowed them to “follow the light,” I came away convinced that had indeed been a brick layer and died from a fall from a castle turret. I had suffered severe neck aches for years, and when the spirit shared what had happened and then left me, the mysterious neck aches ceased. Spirits adhere to those familiar to them from another life. They are a drain on your energy and can cause pain relative to your relationship with them. So, next time you’re driving around in your car and think you’re alone…you just may not be. *smile*
That makes me shiver. You said you weren't fearful, but it sounds scary. Anyway, “Hurricane Warning” is your first story with Muse It Up Publishing, but most of your book have been published by Eternal Press. What made you decide to sign with Muse It Up? People are generally leery of new houses.
Lea Schizas is a respected member of the writing community. I dealt with her as an editor and as a friend and peer. She’s been the driving force behind the Muse On-Line conference which draws hundreds of authors, publishers and readers each year. She’s accomplished so much, and she’s detail oriented with I appreciate. I love her team approach, and I can truly say that I feel instrumental in the success I know we’re all going to achieve with her at the helm.
Yeah, Lea is great. No matter how busy she is (and she is BUSY), I always get a quick response. She's always helpful and especially supportive of new writers.
When I was new and naïve. I thought I had landed an agent who was going to do great things for me. She loved my work, gave me all the right assurances, then secured a contract with an Internet publisher that I could have gotten on my own. She insisted the owner swore her house was not a POD press, but as it turns out, it was, and one of the worst I’ve ever signed with. Luckily, I got my rights back and moved on, but without an agent.
I’ve found my niche with e-publishing companies. I can’t write to word requirements. My characters tell me a story and when it ends, it ends. I can’t see going back and adding more verbiage just to meet someone’s idea of what is considered suitable for a novel. Besides, e-publishing is becoming more and more popular with the ever-growing number of hand-held readers available and I’m happy to be a pioneer with ten years invested in the new revolution of reading.
Six contracts!?
Muse it Up Publishing will release my young adult, Shortcomings, along with my five shorter works. How about some of your Eternal Press releases?
Besides White Heart, Lakota Spirit, most of my backlist can be found at Eternal Press. I guess you could say I’m comfortable there, and they tend to like my writing style. I’m a fan of historical so if you share my passion, then check out Prairie Peace, Sparta Rose, and Sarah’s Journey. My time-travel, Sisters in Time, also has an historical element. I have two more releases coming in 2011: The Locket (a mystery) and Odessa – another historical western.
I've been very happy with Eternal Press as well, and that's where I met you. What has been your most positive writing experience?
Finding out that one of books was named as a finalist in the EPIC Book Contest. Anytime you’re nominated from a field of talent such as those entering the EPIC contest each year, that’s a feeling you can’t duplicate.Which book made the finals for the EPIC? And didn’t you win a “Best of” Award on Love Romances Café last year?
Embezzled Love was my EPIC finalist. The story is based on my sister’s true life experience when she met a man on Match.com and fell in love. I had to struggle hard to find an HEA because the real story didn’t have one, but in fiction, I created what I hoped would happen for her. If you read the book, you’ll see my note at the end and it will all make sense. *Teasing a little here*
In 2009, I was also honored to have Sparta Rose voted the most popular Historical read. To say I was shocked is an understatement.By now readers are going to be beating down your virtual door. How can readers keep in touch?
My author pages at Muse it Up and Eternal Press have all the buy links.
Plus my blog and website: http://www.gingersimpson.com/ and http://mizging.blogspot.com/ Well, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it. The multi talented and very humble, Ms. Ginger.Can you tell us about some of your forthcoming books and what you’re writing about now?
I signed six contracts with Muse It Up Publishing for releases scattered throughout 2011. I’m stoked to have so many new stories being released and I need to get on the promotion bandwagon and get busy. You can find them all listed on my author’s page at Muse it Up.
A hurricane! Just what Linda Morrison needs to welcome her to her new home in Florida. Fearing her recent purchase may end up a bundle of sticks, she’s relieved when a hero swoops in wearing a yellow slicker and offering help. Carlos Mejia is eye candy for sure, but she needs those muscles to help board up the window. Together they ride out the storm raging outside, but inside there’s more than a little electricity in the air.
A face materialized from beneath the slicker. Masculine eyes, as dark as onyx peered at her. “I was wondering the same."
He swept back his hood, allowing his ebony hair to dance in the blustery current. His square jaw and tanned face softened with a smile. “I’m your neighbor from down the street. I thought perhaps you might need some assistance. My sister, Marcie, tells me you live alone. If this storm notches itself up a bit, we’re in for a turbulent night.”
Against warning bells about strangers, she sought escape from the elements. She knew his sister…maybe, the name rang vaguely familiar. “Please, come in.” Linda gestured, but kept a tight grip on the door to keep it from slamming into the wall. Her heart thudded. Would her murder top the evening news? She could just see the headline now, “Stupid woman opens door to stranger during storm.”
A normal morning turns to disaster when a small war party attacks Grace Cummings’ family and slaughters everyone but her. She returns to the Lakota camp filled with hatred, anger and fear, but through the help of another white woman in camp, learns the Lakota way. Broken treaties, dead buffalo, and the white man's foray of gold in the sacred hills give the people reason to defend themselves. When white soldiers invade the camp and presume to rescue Grace, she must decide where her heart lies.
Dakota Plains, 1874
Papa scraped the last speck of egg from his plate and set it aside. "I s’pect Kev and me’ll find gold any day now. People are discoverin’ it all around us. When we make our strike, we can find some land and build a real house. It’s sure to happen soon… afore summer is past and the weather turns cold. In fact, Sassy, you and yer ma might want to start gatherin’ fair-sized stones and rocks for our fireplace." He pointed to the lean-to, still in progress. "In the meantime, Kev and I will finish our temporary shelter, so we can spread out a bit."
No more climbing in and out of a wagon to sleep. Grace clapped. "Oh, Papa, that souds so good." She sobered and flashed the look that always won him over…the half-pout, wistful gaze. "When we finally settle in our real house, it will be near a town, won’t it? Otherwise, how do you expect me to be courted out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"I’m not so sure I want you to be cour..."
He jerked around and looked over his shoulder. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Kevin asked.
"I hear it, Papa," Grace chimed in. "Sounds like yelling."Her father stood and scanned the horizon. He pointed. "Look. There!"
A group of riders emerged from a dust cloud in the distance. The yelling grew louder as they came closer. The furrows in her father’s brow frightened Grace. "What is it, Papa?"
He darted for the wagon. "It’s Injuns! Hurry! You two women get inside and keep low. Kevin, get yer rifle!"
Grace’s heartbeat quickened and fear clutched her chest, making it hard to breathe. She’d heard about savages, but never saw one up close. She didn’t want to. Her mother stood frozen in place. Grace grabbed her hand and pulled. "C’mon, Mama, we’d better do as Papa says."
They ran around to the back of the wagon, and her mother boosted her up and over the closed tailgate. Grace dove inside, her mind filled with horrible thoughts. Would she get scalped or worse…were they all going to die.
All the while, piercing yells sliced the air while thundering hooves pounded the ground. Realizing her mother hadn’t followed, Grace rose up on her knees and peeked outside. A pack of whooping Indians rode round and round the wagon, their voices creating a din of eerie screams while bullets exploded. The hair on Grace’s arms stood on end. She covered her ears, crouched against the sidewall and prayed the savages would go away. Shots rang out from beneath the wagon when Papa and Kevin returned fire.
Whoa! That got my heart racing! Ginger, can you tell us a little about yourself?
I was born and lived most of my life in California. I started in Southern, ended up in Northern, and lived there for over twenty years. California is filled with type-A personalities and is where road rage was born. I moved to Tennessee in 2004, after I retired, and it was like taking a step into the Twilight Zone. The southern hospitality you’ve heard of is true, but so is the laid-back attitude. Customer service is friendly, but slower than molasses, and people don’t think it’s rude if they don’t return your phone calls. There’s always “Fixin’ to” or “Aimin’ to.” I love it here, though and I wouldn’t go back to California on a bet.
How long have you been writing?
I’ve been writing as long as I can recall, whether it be Christmas newsletters to family to share the year’s events or creating silly poems or skits for office celebrations. My first novel experience seemed almost like someone telling me a story, and I couldn’t wait to see how it ended. That’s when I discovered I’m a pantser, not a plotter. I’ve never plotted a story. My tales are character driven and unless they talk to me, I can’t write. Luckily, I seem to have a revolving door in my brain, because I’ve yet to run out of people with stories to share. Once I have the story down, then it’s my job as the author to go back and turn it into a novel by adding all the emotions, smells, and conflict. I turn the “telling” into “showing.”
Wow! I’m a panster, too! There aren’t too many of us out there. And like me, you write a lot of different things, including nonfiction. What is your favorite genre?
I started my first novel in 2001 and it was published in 2003. I was honoured to have my first attempt result in a contract.
Given the myriad of westerns I was exposed to while growing up, it isn’t surprising that Western Historical is my favorite. A steady diet of good ol’ TV shoot ‘em ups and reading everything written by Laura Ingalls Wilder probably defined my destiny.
I’ve tried my hand at many genres because the characters that pop into my mind aren’t always toting a six gun or riding a horse. Linda Morrison, my heroine in "Hurricane Warning" showed up one day and wanted me to share the start of her new life in Florida. Divorced and happy to be in a new home, she’s faced with her first threat of a hurricane.
Which have been the hardest genres to write?
Anyone who writes historical novels will tell you that they are much more time consuming because of the research involved. You’d best get your historical details right or you’ll lose credibility as an author in that genre. Historical comes easy to me because I have such a passion for the era and the people who lived back then. What is hard for me is the manuscript I’m trying to complete now. This is the first one story concept that came without a hero or heroine. Instead, like the title, The Locket, the main character is a necklace. Try talking to an inanimate object.
You once shared an experience that you had which led you to believe you were a male in a former life? Can you tell us more, and how that has affected your writing?
I attended a meeting of Astro Soul many years ago with a friend. She was a firm believer in the afterlife, and I guess you could call me a skeptic. After having a “healing” which released adhering spirits from this life and allowed them to “follow the light,” I came away convinced that had indeed been a brick layer and died from a fall from a castle turret. I had suffered severe neck aches for years, and when the spirit shared what had happened and then left me, the mysterious neck aches ceased. Spirits adhere to those familiar to them from another life. They are a drain on your energy and can cause pain relative to your relationship with them. So, next time you’re driving around in your car and think you’re alone…you just may not be. *smile*
That makes me shiver. You said you weren't fearful, but it sounds scary. Anyway, “Hurricane Warning” is your first story with Muse It Up Publishing, but most of your book have been published by Eternal Press. What made you decide to sign with Muse It Up? People are generally leery of new houses.
Lea Schizas is a respected member of the writing community. I dealt with her as an editor and as a friend and peer. She’s been the driving force behind the Muse On-Line conference which draws hundreds of authors, publishers and readers each year. She’s accomplished so much, and she’s detail oriented with I appreciate. I love her team approach, and I can truly say that I feel instrumental in the success I know we’re all going to achieve with her at the helm.
Yeah, Lea is great. No matter how busy she is (and she is BUSY), I always get a quick response. She's always helpful and especially supportive of new writers.
When I was new and naïve. I thought I had landed an agent who was going to do great things for me. She loved my work, gave me all the right assurances, then secured a contract with an Internet publisher that I could have gotten on my own. She insisted the owner swore her house was not a POD press, but as it turns out, it was, and one of the worst I’ve ever signed with. Luckily, I got my rights back and moved on, but without an agent.
I’ve found my niche with e-publishing companies. I can’t write to word requirements. My characters tell me a story and when it ends, it ends. I can’t see going back and adding more verbiage just to meet someone’s idea of what is considered suitable for a novel. Besides, e-publishing is becoming more and more popular with the ever-growing number of hand-held readers available and I’m happy to be a pioneer with ten years invested in the new revolution of reading.
Six contracts!?
Muse it Up Publishing will release my young adult, Shortcomings, along with my five shorter works. How about some of your Eternal Press releases?
Besides White Heart, Lakota Spirit, most of my backlist can be found at Eternal Press. I guess you could say I’m comfortable there, and they tend to like my writing style. I’m a fan of historical so if you share my passion, then check out Prairie Peace, Sparta Rose, and Sarah’s Journey. My time-travel, Sisters in Time, also has an historical element. I have two more releases coming in 2011: The Locket (a mystery) and Odessa – another historical western.
I've been very happy with Eternal Press as well, and that's where I met you. What has been your most positive writing experience?
Finding out that one of books was named as a finalist in the EPIC Book Contest. Anytime you’re nominated from a field of talent such as those entering the EPIC contest each year, that’s a feeling you can’t duplicate.Which book made the finals for the EPIC? And didn’t you win a “Best of” Award on Love Romances Café last year?
Embezzled Love was my EPIC finalist. The story is based on my sister’s true life experience when she met a man on Match.com and fell in love. I had to struggle hard to find an HEA because the real story didn’t have one, but in fiction, I created what I hoped would happen for her. If you read the book, you’ll see my note at the end and it will all make sense. *Teasing a little here*
In 2009, I was also honored to have Sparta Rose voted the most popular Historical read. To say I was shocked is an understatement.By now readers are going to be beating down your virtual door. How can readers keep in touch?
My author pages at Muse it Up and Eternal Press have all the buy links.
Plus my blog and website: http://www.gingersimpson.com/ and http://mizging.blogspot.com/ Well, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it. The multi talented and very humble, Ms. Ginger.Can you tell us about some of your forthcoming books and what you’re writing about now?
I signed six contracts with Muse It Up Publishing for releases scattered throughout 2011. I’m stoked to have so many new stories being released and I need to get on the promotion bandwagon and get busy. You can find them all listed on my author’s page at Muse it Up.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
My Christmas Medley
Maya's Gingerbread Tree
My "Charlie Brown" Tree
It's been a whirlwind holiday season for me, as usual. My current job does not allow me the luxury of a flextime schedule, which in the past allowed me to take the entire week before Christmas off to finish shopping, wrapping, decorating, and attending a myriad of holiday events.
Alas, I am frazzled, and missed all the parties, and didn't get to bake cookies. But I did get to my son's holiday concert (he plays first trombone), and my daughter's karaoke dance show. Plus an awesome concert by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra at Nassau Coliseum, complete with both musical and actual. pyrotechnics. Their frenetic blend of classical and rock music, dulcet and discordant, matches my personality in general, and my mood this holiday season.
Anyone who has read my essay "Tis the Season," published last year, might remember details of a particularly awesome effort by the shopping goddess to snag a Wii when there were simply none to be had. This year, there were no armed guards in Toys R Us in the Bronx when I went in to get a Zoobles Razoo's Tree House (use your imagination) for my daughter, and a wireless headset and controller for my son's new X box. In fact, there were not even that many sales associates. Those that were tended to labyrinthine queues of frantic shoppers. I dared approach two who seemed to be available
"Where can I find Zoobles?" I asked.
"Zoobles? What are they?" a dazed young man answered.
"Never mind." I headed for electronics.
"Do you have wireless controllers and headsets for Xbox?" I was hopeful to snag at least something on my list.
After that guy, old enough to know better, stopped laughing, he pointed to the a ravaged display on a back wall with a few tattered packages dangling from crooked hooks.. "You can check that wall." He laughed some more, holding onto his sides and I didn't even kick him.
I headed for Target where a sales associate actually knew what I was talking about. He directed me to an aisle for the Zoobles. On my way there, a woman passed by carrying Razoo's Treehouse! Counting on the empathic bond between frantic mothers, I ran to her.
"Where did you get that?" I was sure she had gotten the last one.
"Right over here." She led me there, and you go, goddess, there was one left, which I clutched close for safekeeping.
Divide and conquer when desperate. Hubby scored the headset in Target as well, and good old Amazon mopped up the operation.
I'll spare the mundane details of the Old Navy and Marshalls experience, but suffice it to say everyone behaved very well on the very long lines. And the cashiers were were efficient and wished me happy holidays.
At work, we play music in exam rooms to offer a bit more privacy to patients, who are often upset and let's just say a bit loud as they share details of their latest travails and heartbreaks. 106.7 FM plays Christmas music from before Thanksgiving, so I know their playlists by heart.
Here are a few snippets of popular Christmas lyrics that have resonated with me over the last month.
I can't buy peace and contentment for all the kids I care for who need comfort as they struggle with poverty, deprivation, neglect, violence, loss and grief that not even many adults I know can fathom. But I do the best I can, one child at time.
From Kenny Chesney's Mama's Shoes
Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time
You see she's been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes would make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight
So I laid the money down, I just had to help him out
I'll never forget the look on his face when he said
Mama's gonna look so great
I knew I'd caught a glimpse of heaven's love
As he thanked me and ran out
I knew that God had sent that little boy
To remind me just what Christmas is all about
This one is for the Republicans, particularly those who opposed the 9/11 Health Care Act, strong armed our not so strong armed President into big tax breaks for the rich, corrupted the Affordable Care Act beyond any measure of reason, turning it into a virtually tasteless, fatty piece of pork, and only voted to repeal Don't Ask Don't Tell because they needed to send the lame ducks home with some dry bread to gnaw on for Christmas.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel,
Mr. Grinch!
You're a bad banana,
With a greasy black peel!
And this stanza goes out to the Catholic Bishops who excommunicated a nun and stripped a hospital of its right to keep the Blessed Sacrament on the premises because they terminated a woman's 11 week pregnancy to save her life. So no one can go to Mass and in that hospital anymore. Hmm. That's an interesting contradiction. More about it here.
You're a monster, Mr. Grinch!
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders.
You've got garlic in your soul,
Mr. Grinch!
Alas, I am frazzled, and missed all the parties, and didn't get to bake cookies. But I did get to my son's holiday concert (he plays first trombone), and my daughter's karaoke dance show. Plus an awesome concert by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra at Nassau Coliseum, complete with both musical and actual. pyrotechnics. Their frenetic blend of classical and rock music, dulcet and discordant, matches my personality in general, and my mood this holiday season.
Anyone who has read my essay "Tis the Season," published last year, might remember details of a particularly awesome effort by the shopping goddess to snag a Wii when there were simply none to be had. This year, there were no armed guards in Toys R Us in the Bronx when I went in to get a Zoobles Razoo's Tree House (use your imagination) for my daughter, and a wireless headset and controller for my son's new X box. In fact, there were not even that many sales associates. Those that were tended to labyrinthine queues of frantic shoppers. I dared approach two who seemed to be available
"Where can I find Zoobles?" I asked.
"Zoobles? What are they?" a dazed young man answered.
"Never mind." I headed for electronics.
"Do you have wireless controllers and headsets for Xbox?" I was hopeful to snag at least something on my list.
After that guy, old enough to know better, stopped laughing, he pointed to the a ravaged display on a back wall with a few tattered packages dangling from crooked hooks.. "You can check that wall." He laughed some more, holding onto his sides and I didn't even kick him.
I headed for Target where a sales associate actually knew what I was talking about. He directed me to an aisle for the Zoobles. On my way there, a woman passed by carrying Razoo's Treehouse! Counting on the empathic bond between frantic mothers, I ran to her.
"Where did you get that?" I was sure she had gotten the last one.
"Right over here." She led me there, and you go, goddess, there was one left, which I clutched close for safekeeping.
Divide and conquer when desperate. Hubby scored the headset in Target as well, and good old Amazon mopped up the operation.
I'll spare the mundane details of the Old Navy and Marshalls experience, but suffice it to say everyone behaved very well on the very long lines. And the cashiers were were efficient and wished me happy holidays.
At work, we play music in exam rooms to offer a bit more privacy to patients, who are often upset and let's just say a bit loud as they share details of their latest travails and heartbreaks. 106.7 FM plays Christmas music from before Thanksgiving, so I know their playlists by heart.
Here are a few snippets of popular Christmas lyrics that have resonated with me over the last month.
I can't buy peace and contentment for all the kids I care for who need comfort as they struggle with poverty, deprivation, neglect, violence, loss and grief that not even many adults I know can fathom. But I do the best I can, one child at time.
From Kenny Chesney's Mama's Shoes
Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time
You see she's been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes would make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight
So I laid the money down, I just had to help him out
I'll never forget the look on his face when he said
Mama's gonna look so great
I knew I'd caught a glimpse of heaven's love
As he thanked me and ran out
I knew that God had sent that little boy
To remind me just what Christmas is all about
This one is for the Republicans, particularly those who opposed the 9/11 Health Care Act, strong armed our not so strong armed President into big tax breaks for the rich, corrupted the Affordable Care Act beyond any measure of reason, turning it into a virtually tasteless, fatty piece of pork, and only voted to repeal Don't Ask Don't Tell because they needed to send the lame ducks home with some dry bread to gnaw on for Christmas.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel,
Mr. Grinch!
You're a bad banana,
With a greasy black peel!
And this stanza goes out to the Catholic Bishops who excommunicated a nun and stripped a hospital of its right to keep the Blessed Sacrament on the premises because they terminated a woman's 11 week pregnancy to save her life. So no one can go to Mass and in that hospital anymore. Hmm. That's an interesting contradiction. More about it here.
You're a monster, Mr. Grinch!
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders.
You've got garlic in your soul,
Mr. Grinch!
I go to work in the dark, come home in the dark, and am feeling rather dark these days. My Dad is sick, Mom is failing, and there always seems to be something lurking in the shadows waiting to jump out and waylay me.
Here's one for my ex, if he's reading anything I write these days. Dan Fogelberg's Auld Lang Syne always reduces me to tears, conjuring memories of the wonderful Christmases we spent together as high school and college sweethearts, in the days when things were simple, and life was filled with endless possibilities.
The beer was empty and our tongues were tired, running out of things to say. She gave a kiss to me as I got out, and I watched her drive away. For a moment I was back in school and felt that same familiar pain. As I turned to make my way back home again, the snow turned into rain.
All the shopping got done, the tree is up. Christmas Eve was a great celebration for two birthdays--Jesus' and my husband's--beginning with Family Mass and continuing to after midnight with my Jewish friends.
The beer was empty and our tongues were tired, running out of things to say. She gave a kiss to me as I got out, and I watched her drive away. For a moment I was back in school and felt that same familiar pain. As I turned to make my way back home again, the snow turned into rain.
All the shopping got done, the tree is up. Christmas Eve was a great celebration for two birthdays--Jesus' and my husband's--beginning with Family Mass and continuing to after midnight with my Jewish friends.
Christmas Day was spent at my sister's. Talk about awesome, she and my brother-in-law still hosted, though their house was hit by a huge tree in a windstorm two weeks ago and there is hole in the roof. It's all about my mom and dad, and we all need to be with them, even if it's under a tarp instead of mistletoe.
It's snowing today, the ground is already covered, and it promises to be a big storm. Mother Nature has concealed the dead leaves I never got a chance to rake up and brightened my world and black mood. I'm defying the dire warnings and headed to dance class to work off those cookies for breakfast extra pounds. Then I'll hole up for the rest of the week to clean up, catch up, finish that novel, and get ready for the new year and all the good, bad, and ugly it might bring.
I wish you all the greetings of the season, no matter what you celebrate.
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