An Empty Newsletter

By Keith N Fisher

Well, I don’t feel any happier, but I do have a new appreciation of all the blessings I’ve been given. Last week I talked about counting blessings as a way to happiness. I also said I would spend thanksgiving counting mine.

It was a wonderful activity that brought insights and peace. How many of you have been grateful for air to breathe? We had dinner at my brother’s and I spent much of that time reminiscing about my childhood. You see my brother owns a house where the barn used to be, when I was three years old and we lived down there.

The small bungalow my parents rented still exists, but it was moved and sits on blocks in a field behind the landlord’s house.

I remember playing in the water puddles that formed in the road after a rainstorm. I remember so much more, but I don’t want to bore you.

I’ve finished the book I was working on and started on another. I now have one at the publisher and two in editing. This, latest, story wants to be told, but its not anxious to give up the secrets. I’m sweating over every word, trying to get it right.

I also started our annual family newsletter this week. What a daunting task it has become. Do any of you write seasonal greetings? Our newsletter used to be easy. Our lives were full of activities, but as the economy tanked, and funds became hard to scrape up, activities have tapered off.

I get a kick out of other newsletters I read. Some of them, I’m convinced, are propaganda sheets, designed to make me feel guilty about my less than, perfect life. I marvel at how we all become spin doctors, tweeking the truth to make it sound better. This year, I’m afraid I’ll end up saying, “nothing happened last year”.

There are, however, a few pictures I can use. My wife continues to get thinner and I’ve noticed a weight loss on myself. Hey, I just thought of some things I can write. Perhaps with a little spin . . .

Good luck with your writing---see you next week.

Week 4

by G.Parker

Okay - the countdown is coming to an end, and those of you who haven't gotten 30,000 words yet are probably sweating and working those fingers to the bone.

I'm not -- lol.  I actually met my goal on Tuesday!  But, I'm determined to finish the story, so I still have some typing to go.  I'm at 54,000 words, so I could end up closer to 60,000.

Hopefully you all got rested over Thanksgiving, enjoyed wonderful food, lots of company and plenty of distractions.  Now you should be all ready to hit the keys and get those word counts up and finish out the month with a bang!  There are still some write-ins going on in various parts of the country, still lots of encouragement and motivation being tossed out.

Grab those pumpkin pies, a fork and head over to your keyboard, sit down and get typing!  (do I sound like a drill sargent now?)

Type, 2, 3, 4 -- Type!

You can do it.!

Thanks

By Keith N Fisher

Hymn number 241 in the Mormon Hymnbook, caught my eye the other day. I’ve probably sang that hymn thousands of times over the years, but I finally got the point recently, and I thought you might benefit.

The advice in, Count Your Blessings, is clear. If we are burdened with troubles there is freedom. All we need to do is, count our blessings. Name them one by one. Count our many blessings see what God hath done.

According to the song, there are myriad things God has done for us and if we honestly start counting those things, how can we feel anything but grateful? Then with gratitude in our hearts, our troubles seem to morph into manageable annoyances.

That is the promise---happiness through gratitude. Are you willing to give it a try?

In light of the impending holiday, I thought it would be a good time to try the experiment. Each year, we greet our friends with a cheerful “Happy Thanksgiving", and rush to continue our preparations of the great meal. Many people look forward to watching sports on TV. Most of us can’t wait to get reacquainted with relatives. Others wish those relatives would stay away. How many of us actually use the day for what it was intended. How many of us take time to recognize God’s part in our lives?

When I think of my childhood and teenage years, I have much to be thankful for. I realize the many times God saved me. There were times when He, alone, stood between me and impending doom. As I grew older, He helped me in subtle ways. So, I plan to take time on the holiday, tuck my tail between my legs, and give credit where credit is due. I bet I will run out of day before I run out of blessings to count. Either way, I look forward to the promise in the song.

I hope your holiday will be full of family love and good food. I also hope you will take a moment and remember He, who made it all possible.

Good Luck with your writing---see you next week.

Week 3

by G.Parker

I've discovered the biggest thing you want to remember about NaNo is not to compare yourself with others. Unless that's a good way for you to be motivated, you need to remember that what is an amazing count for you is going to be nothing for someone else.

I will get to a certain level, only to notice that someone has already reached 50,000 words. My first thought is that they must not have a life! I mean, how can you possibly write that much in such a short period of time when you have people to take care of, a job to go to, and a home to maintain? It just doesn't seem humanly possible. Of course, I write more and more each year, so perhaps it's just a case of getting the mind going and the fingers moving.

Moving On

by Cheri Chesley

Last week, about this time, I finished my edits on The Tyrant King. While I wait to hear back from my beta readers about what changes I should make before sending it back to my publisher, I've gotten to sit back and wait for my brain to decide which story to work on next.

It was no contest, really. I just fought it for a bit.

I feel like I SHOULD be working on the third and final installment of The Peasant Queen trilogy. I've started the draft, met my cast of characters, introduced the greatest horse (character based on a real horse) to fiction, and transcribed ALL of my handwritten work to computer.

But that's not going to happen right now.

Consequences is a contemporary YA "coming of age" (though I hate that term) about how, sometimes, we aren't the ones most affected by the consequences of our actions. Sometimes those most affected are people we love dearly, and wouldn't hurt for the world--except we did.

The timely thing here is that Chloe's story is one I originally drafted during a NaNo (National Novel Writing Month--November) a few years ago. It's the story that my brain is drawn to whenever my brain goes "dormant" from fantasy.

It's a story near and dear to my heart, drawn largely from personal experience but placed in a completely fictional situation.

It's a story about growing up.

It's a story about facing your past.

It's a story about reshaping relationships.

And it never fails to make me cry.

It's NOT a conversion story, though it deals largely with the LDS beliefs of forgiveness and love, acceptance without condoning. My character never has that moment where she feels the need to be baptized, but she does come to understand more about her father's church.

It's NOT a romance. Dealing with the mess her life has become, Chloe has no time for boys.

It's my hope to find a publisher for Consequences after the New Year. I'll keep you posted.

Typing

By Keith N Fisher

Like most of those in my generation, I took a typing class in junior high. I recall sitting behind a typewriter, trying to find the “D”. We had a chart on the wall that showed the placement of all the keys, but we weren’t supposed to look at it. I had to close my eyes and try to remember.

I wondered why the letters weren’t just placed in order. You know start at the top with “A” and move down the keyboard until you find “Z”. It didn’t make any sense.

When I found out, however, why the keys were placed like they are, I nodded my head and understood. After the invention of the inline typewriter, proficiency of the users caused a problem. The type bars would often get tangled on the backstroke with the following bar. To avoid the problem of jammed keys the inventors mixed up the keyboard to slow down the typists.

Having spent hours typing on an old manual typewriter, I can understand. Even with the confusing placement, my keys often got tangled with each other. Now, after all these years, I’m vaguely familiar with the keyboard. I also use a computer that reacts to each stroke in quicker time than even my mind can function. I don’t need the “A” in the top left corner, because I’m used to having the “Q” up there.

I still wonder if an inline placement could help though, and some keyboards are laid out that way, but it’s okay. You see, when I’m composing off the top of my head, as if I were speaking, I write pretty fast. My fingers become an extension of my mind and words flow fast enough for me.

On the other hand, I’ve taken typing tests that made me feel like a ninth-grader again. I’m slower than glacial ice. Instead of typing word for word from the test sheet, I tend to read the thing, take time to comprehend it, then type what it said. Sometimes, I even have to visualize the chart to remember the keyboard placement. Well, I hate timed tests anyway.

Now, as if to add insult to injury, designers keep placing the keys closer together. Laptops are getting smaller. We have netbooks that seem to be made for a four-year old typist, or one-handed users. My big fingers feel cramped, and I tend to type the wrong letter. Editing, while writing, seems to be the wave of the future for me. Maybe I should adopt the two-thumb texting, method of writing.

Or maybe, I need to put my fingers on a diet. Perhaps, Mrs. Woodward standing over me with a stopwatch, making sure my eyes never stray to the chart on the wall. Of course in those days, the keys were almost an inch apart. If you wanted to type a letter, you had to mean it. Therefore, your finger muscles had to be strong.

Later, with electric typewriters, they eliminated the need to press hard, but the keys were sensitive. If the user held a finger down too long, the letter would appear more than once. I guess that’s still possible with computers, but the timing has been perfected to prevent accidental doubles.

Yes, writing is not for the faint of heart. If it’s any consolation, most of the classical writers we admire didn’t type. I think I’ll stick to writing from the top of my head, and try to avoid typing tests.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Week 2!

by G.Parker

Well, it's week 2 and your story should be about a quarter through.  You might be running into your first case of writer's block.  It happens about now, when you're going along with the initial plot outline, and then -- bang -- and suddenly you're thinking "where was I going with this??"

Sigh.

Believe me, because that's where I'm at right now.  I wrote 500 words this morning of pure...nothing.  Ugh.  At least I'm ahead of where I was last year.  My count right now is 29,610 words.  I'm pretty proud of myself, but it's now coming back to bite me.

So, where are you with your efforts?  Are you still going strong?  Have you joined a writing group and sat and written with them?  I was supposed to go to one last night, but was unable to get there.  I get to try another write-in on Tuesday, so I'm looking forward to being way productive then.

So - off I go to get some writing in.  Good luck to all of you, and keep up the word counts!

What is a Book Bomb?

by Cheri Chesley

I received an email last night asking people to participate in a Book Bomb for Rob Wells' Variant. Had to ask myself, What the heck is a Book Bomb? I mean, isn't "bomb" a bad thing?

Consider me educated. You can click HERE for better details, but, essentially, Rob wrote a fantastic book, and while it's circulating among the masses through HarperCollins he's had some personal setbacks. Like being diagnosed with a panic disorder that has cost him his job. You can check out what he has to say about that HERE.

And here's the part where we all get to help. A Book Bomb is where we pick a day to buy one book, and spread the word as much as possible to as many people as possible so they can also buy a copy of the book that day. Today is Variant's day--November 10, 2011. I've bought my copy, recommended it to friends, and am going to head up to the bookstore later (the only bookstore within 40 miles, mind you) and pick up a copy for my kids' school. That I'm using my own income from selling my books to do this should demonstrate how passionately I feel about helping Rob out.

You're not losing out, here. You actually get to spend money to help someone and get a book out of it. A great book, no less.

Here are the links to purchase Variant for your KINDLE or NOOK devices, or you can run out to your local bookstore for the hard cover. AMAZON has a great price if you want it shipped to you, but they've got less than 20 in stock so you might want to hurry. :)

Ghosts, Ghouls, Kim Karshian, and a Great Story

By Keith N Fisher

It’s been a couple of years since I wrote about Halloween. It’s about time, don’t you think? By tradition each year, I sit on my front porch in a festive mood and pass out the offerings. Life is great when the holiday falls on a warm night, but I recall several stormy nights when I would’ve stood in bed if it wasn’t for our daughter’s desire for candy.

When she was younger, we made the mistake of putting her down for a nap before going out, then wondered why she didn’t seem to care. I recently watched the videos and realized she was sleep-walking at the time.

Out of self-defense against those who would steal the whole bowl of candy we left while we went around the neighborhood, I began to stay home. The porch sitting tradition started when I got tired of standing up every five minutes to answer the door. I dressed up a few times, but it scared some of the children. Now, I remain my usual scary self, and I can’t remove my mask.

One year, I tried to read one of the Harry Potter books, but there were too many interruptions. I have tried to write, with the same results. This year, I didn’t try, although I did have my laptop charging on the bistro table. I took pictures, chatted, and philosophized about the different aspects of the holiday.

Also, this year, since our daughter graduated from supervised trick or treating, my wife joined me on the porch. My mother even stopped over.

I went to work later on, that night, and watched the kids who came into the store. Some were dressed in costumes, some weren’t. I remembered some of the teenage antics I played on Halloween, and marveled at the changes in the world.

I wished my daughter could’ve grown up when I did. When neighbors were kind, and they took care of each other’s children. It was a time when we didn’t worry about the dangers kids face today. Parents didn’t need to go trick or treating, but they still worried.

While working, I passed the tabloid magazine rack and read one of the headlines about Kim Kardashian. Now, there is a scary Halloween character for you. Except she never removes the mask. The way I heard it, she staged a wedding & marriage as a publicity stunt and now, after seventy-two days, she’s in the process of filing for divorce. Talk about a circus act. Using smoke and mirrors she has proven she’d do almost anything for attention. It’s becoming hard to tell the difference between fantasy and reality these days. Reality seems to be whatever a press agent says it is.

Later, the radio played I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing, by Stephen Tyler and Aerosmith. The song reminded me of a great story. I heard on television.

Back in the seventies, A model named Bebe Buell, hung out with rock stars. She became involved with Todd Rundgren, a famous lead guitarist and songwriter. After a while, she broke up with him and started hanging out with Steven Tyler of the band Aerosmith. That relationship was short lived, however, because Steven’s drug abuse scared Bebe and she went back to Todd.

Soon afterward, Bebe had a baby girl and named her Liv Rundgren. They were a family who socialized with Rock Stars and show people.

When Liv started to grow up, she noticed a resemblance between her and Steven Tyler’s daughter Mia. Now there are two different stories here, but they agree that at some point, Liv confronted Bebe about it and was told the truth. Bebe didn’t know for sure, but Steven was probably her birth father. At twelve, Liv took Steven’s stage name and became, Liv Rundgren Tyler. She has two dads and calls Todd her spiritual dad.

Later, Liv tried modeling, then acting and is very popular. She played Arwen, in Lord of the Rings among other leading roles in other movies. In 1998 she played Bruce Willis’s daughter in a movie called Armageddon. There is a poignant moment in the story when Bruce has to do the heroic thing. He tells his Daughter, Liv, by videoconference, that he won’t be coming home. Liv touches the screen with both hands as his image fades out.

In the music video that accompanied the movie, they put Steven on that screen during the last part of the song. Liv touches the screen as Steven fades out. It was touching.

Isn’t that a great story? Even though it’s an unconventional family story, its true, and unlike Kim Kardashian, Liv Tyler doesn’t display it across the media. She tells the truth and leaves it at that. It would make a great plot for a book if someone could write it without being sued. Have a great week.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

15,000 words

by G.Parker

Okay everyone...it's November 4th.  Where do you stand on your word count??  I decided to accept Nichole Giles challenge and do the 15,000 words in three days.  It was a daunting task...but I did it!  I did most of my words on Tuesday, and then fleshed out the rest on Wednesday and Thursday.

So, how are you going with your word count?  If you haven't accepted anyone's challenge at this point, you should have written at least about 2,000 a day, for about 8,000 words.  Personally I don't write on Sundays, so I try to write more.

There are lots of groups getting together and holding 'write-in's and various locations.  If you have joined in on the NaNoWriMo craziness, then you'll be able to look at regional stuff and see what's available.  If you haven't, you're going to be one of the few sane people this month, so enjoy it!

Personally, it's been going so nice, it makes me worried.  I know there's always a stressed feeling during this month, but if I'm already this far ahead, it sort of takes some of the stress off.  But I was raised on Murphy's law, and that generally operates rather frequently in my house, so we'll see how it goes.

Tonight is supposed to be a big first winter snow storm.  Fortunately I have paper and a pen, in case the power goes out, I can curl up in front of the fire and write.  But I also have a family that I try to let know I'm alive during this time and if I get my writing done during the day, then I spend my evenings with them.  So, I guess as soon as I'm finished writing this I need to get my fingers going on that.  ;)

How do you spend NaNo?  What are your favorite motivations?  Let us know, and keep up the good work! You can do it!

The City of Light, chapter 1 part 3

This week, I'm giving readers a peek into a story I started to develop this fall. I'm not asking for critiques--this is a bare bones first chapter preview. I plan to work on it later. You can find the first part on my AUTHOR BLOG, and the second part of the chapter on my PERSONAL BLOG.

City of Light, continued

Her mother nodded, and Genna wasted no time leaving the room. Sorai followed her to the bedroom she and Aisilyn shared. It was a spacious room with two large beds against opposing walls, and a great window on the wall between them. Genna motioned for her serving maid to put the purchases on the brightly colored blanket that covered Aisilyn’s bed.

Genna moved to the trunk at the foot of her sister’s bed and opened it. Most of her sister’s trousseau had been purchased, but they did find a few more scarves and the material that would serve as her wedding veil. Genna unwrapped these items, folded them and placed them gently on top of the wrapped wedding dress and other items in the trunk. She did not turn when she heard the door open.

“Thank you, Sorai,” Aisilyn said. “You may go now.”

Sorai bowed her head in reply and left the room.

Aisilyn crossed the room to her bed and sat down. Genna looked up at her as she closed the trunk.

“I’m going to miss all this shopping when you marry Jacob,” she said. “We’ve had a lot of fun gathering and sewing.”

Aisilyn reached out her hand; Genna grasped it without hesitation. “Nineteen days,” Aisilyn said. “Jacob and I were to be married in just nineteen days. Then I would have been safe.”

Genna sat facing her. “You will still marry Jacob in nineteen days. Nothing has changed that.”

Aisilyn’s sky blue eyes sought hers. “I love him so much, Gen. How can I leave him? I’ll die.”

“You won’t,” Genna said, surprising herself with the conviction in her tone.

“Nothing is going to come between you and your destiny.”

“What is my destiny?” Aisilyn pulled away and rose to pace the floor. “Will I become Jacob’s bride, or the demon’s? What is my path?” She stopped in front of the window. “I can’t explain it, but when I heard the demon’s voice I knew he was talking about me. I still feel it, a certainty deep in my soul. Father and Mother won’t listen. They are blinded by the fear I may be right.”

“But they are right about the demon never before being able to penetrate the barrier,” said Genna. “Maybe this is another of his empty threats.”

“Does it feel that way to you?” Aisilyn turned to look at her.

Genna watched the sunlight through the window play with the gold in her sister’s hair. She looked so much like an angel, framed by the light outside, that Genna couldn’t imagine pairing Aisilyn with a demon. In that moment, Genna vowed it would never happen. No matter what she had to do, no matter the cost, the demon would not have her sister.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Genna said. “I’ve known since Father brought Jacob home that you were meant for each other. Your union will be blessed by God, and will be eternal. Nothing the demon can do can stop that.”

Aisilyn sighed. “I wish I had your faith.”

Genna crossed the room and put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “You do, but right now it’s clouded by fear. Let’s pray together, and then you can rest a bit before dinner.”

Aisilyn nodded. They went back to the side of her bed and knelt together, facing one another. Genna offered the prayer, asking for God to help soothe her sister’s worries, and also to help them know what they should do. When she finished, she kissed Aisilyn’s forehead and left the room.

Her father had sent a runner to the Council building for information. Genna smiled at the thought. He did not hesitate to use his influence with certain officials to learn what was going on, at least not when it came to matters concerning his daughter. Though he may have taken a cautious, practical approach, he still wanted to know what the Council was thinking.

“Genna, dear, will you please help me with dinner?” Her mother asked. “Where is your sister?”

“She’s resting,” said Genna. “I’d love to help. What are we having?”

“Cook has prepared a lovely cut of lamb,” said her mother. “I told her I would see to the side dishes.”

Genna smiled. “What about dessert?”

The knock at the door stopped her mother’s reply. Sorai had been in the parlor and answered it.

The Camping Trip

By Keith N Fisher

Last week, I went camping and re-posted a blog talking about another trip. I’m happy to report the writer’s block I experienced then, didn’t happen this time. I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote the final scene for my work in progress.

It’s interesting to sit in a truck on an almost moonless night and write by the light of your laptop. I’m large enough that my computer sits perfectly between my chest and the steering wheel. I took off my glasses and visited with my character.

On another day, I worked on a new project and did some editing. I got so caught up that my brother knocked on the door and scared my pants off, asking if we were going hunting. I discovered my laptop makes a good flashlight in order to see who is interrupting me.

I learned a few things on the trip this year. One, is that its possible to put your underwear on backwards in the dark while trying to not wake anybody up. I also learned that it’s very cold standing behind bushes and under trees, trying to turn your underwear around.

Later, I learned my cousin has become an avid reader. He stumbled across a book by Nora Roberts while waiting for somebody, and now he reads almost everything he can find. He’s going to be a beta reader for me.

I became reacquainted with the concept of gazing into a campfire and contemplating the deeper meaning of life or the next plot turn. I drank hot chocolate and wrote well, better than I used to. I also put in some hunting time.

It was a having a good time away from real life, wish you were here, kind of weekend. Wish you could’ve been there. Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Are You Ready?

by G.Parker

Okay - I was a slacker last week, and I apologize.  I still can't believe I totally spaced off writing my blog, but then, we have discussed the swiss cheese brain factor, haven't we?

Anyway - today I want to remind you to get ready!  Actually, I'm hoping you're ready and chomping at the bit.  Next Tuesday starts Nano!!

Unless you've been living in a non writing world for the past little while, you should know what NaNo is, but just in case, a brief crash course.

NaNoWriMo (which stands for National Novel Writing Month) is a month long writing frenzy where you try to get 50,000 words written between the first and thirtieth.  It's not for the faint of heart, and it's not for everyone who writes.  But, it's dang fun and it's crazy.  My husband hates it - he threatens to send mail bombs every year.  "Why did they have to pick November for Pete's sake?  It's not like they couldn't have picked March or something."

You go to the site, you log in, and create your author page.  Then, you write.  Of course, you can't really write until the first, because everything you write before then doesn't count.  And you want EVERY word to count. I would still recommend that you flesh out your plot idea before hand, that makes it easier to just write, but whatever it takes, you should do this.  Because it makes the creative side in you grow, drives everyone around you crazy and will bring you more stress than you've ever known.  Hm....well, just keep a large supply of chocolate around and you'll be fine.  I always have a pep talk with my family ahead of time to remind them of whats happening and that they had better not expect too much interaction if I'm at the computer.

So, the blogs for the rest of the month of November are going to be about me and my fellow writer's progress.  Be sure and let us know if you've signed up.  We want to know how well you do!!

And the Movie Was?

The other night I sat down with the hubby and watched an old film noir. Love that stuff. This was a Barbara Stanwyck—love her—flick about a woman who wakes up in the middle of the night and sees a murder out her window. The problem is, the murderer does such a great job hiding his crime that the police find no evidence. No one believes her. Rather than let the matter drop, she pursues it, determined to make sure the crime is uncovered and tied to the killer. At the same time, the killer is determined to make her the least credible witness ever. To that end, he orchestrates a sequence of events that even get her committed to a hospital for “observation.” She struggles finding someone to trust, even the detective-turned-boyfriend, Larry.

The plot wasn’t complicated, and it was a pretty straight forward flick. Not Oscar-winning or anything, but that kind of movie isn’t supposed to be. What I particularly enjoyed was the villain was a writer—a published author—which put a fun twist on it for me. Once he declared his Nazi sympathies, of course, you knew he was going to get his in the end. Movies of that era were really clear on establishing justice for the truly evil bad guy. For a second at the end, though, it looked like our heroine was going to die, too.

As you can tell, the movie kind of stuck with me. The killer was an author, but not a bestselling one. In fact, his book didn’t do well at all, something that they made a point of saying. I guess a bad author is more likely to be a killer? :)

In truth, I’m having one of those days where I doubt myself, my direction, my ability. The only way to get past it is to write, but that’s the hardest part. It’s something like knowing scripture study and prayer will help with a problem, but not feeling worthy to do it. Writers are complicated people. We feel deeply; we think deeply. We ponder perhaps more than is healthy. While this can be great when it comes to plot detail and story lines, it tends to bite back in the form of doubt in the real world.

Call it a super power. And what was that Uncle Ben said? “With great power comes great responsibility.” Thanks, Spiderman.

Re-Posting From the Archive

By Keith N Fisher

I’m going camping and I won’t be here on Saturday. Also, things are hectic right now, so I decided to re-post an article from 2006. I’m not sure if this will appear on time, but if not I’ll be late. I did a little editing because I’m a better writer now. I hope you like it. I’ll see you when I come down from the mountain.



Writers Block at 9,000 Feet

By Keith Fisher

I couldn’t bring my computer. Well, I guess I could’ve but I’m one of those who didn’t know you should remove the battery from a laptop while on house current so it only lasts about 50 minutes. Because of my daily writing habit I wondered if I would go crazy without my electronic crutch.

In an attempt at appeasement, I brought a wire bound notebook. I figured I could at least, make notes of the ideas I might have. I had a priesthood lesson to plan anyway.

My brother had a different kind of hunting permit than I did, but I didn’t want him to go alone, so I went camping. As it turned out, my dad went too, but he stayed in his trailer with my brother. So, I had a lot of alone time in mine. During the day, I got to shoot the bull with my dad. We solved the problems of the world, and my brother went hunting.

Have you ever tried to concentrate on a plot while chatting with someone? I put down my notebook and talked. I didn’t get my writing done.

After we ate the Dutch oven food I cooked, and we said good night I went into the trailer and opened my notebook. Nothing happened. I tried to make notes for my lesson but I couldn’t keep my mind on it.

I realized if I had a generator, I could’ve brought my computer. At least I could Edit, or watch a DVD. What do you do when you’re camped at 9,000 feet during your writing time and nothing comes to mind? Did I mention I was alone in a camp trailer? No distractions, what a great set up. I was having the weekend that most writers can only dream about, but my mind wasn’t co-operating. What would you do? I gave up.

I finally decided to go to bed, thinking I would at least get some sleep. Well, that was the plan, anyway. I began to obsess over a dry throat and dust in the furnace. I didn't want to wake up with a cold. Perhaps a little hot chocolate, I thought.

When my hot drink was ready, I sat down and thumbed through previous notes made in my notebook. It got me thinking about the characters in a different book than the one I was working on. Suddenly, and without forethought, I was writing again. I still missed my computer screen, but the notebook was working fine.

Three cups of hot chocolate and four hours later, I decided that I’d better go to bed. I was happy when my head hit the pillow. I forgot about the dust in the furnace while I dreamed about plot lines.

I spent the rest of the weekend writing the story I never intended to work on. I learned to be flexible with my writing time. I also learned that even though it sounds crazy, characters are like children. If you pay attention to one, the other will get jealous and try to take center stage. If I listen, perhaps my writing will turn out better.

I’d forgotten the joy of quietly putting ink on paper. It was nice to reacquaint myself. Although, reading what I wrote, is another matter.




As I said, this blog was written in October of 2006. That was three laptop batteries ago. I now have a cigarette lighter cord for my computer, and I take a notebook.

There are several projects percolating in my brain in case of writer’s block. I’m also writing a cookbook, so my camp kitchen is packed and ready. I’ll see you when I get back.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Moving Forward

by Cheri Chesley

Thank you to everyone who gave me input about my problem last week. It really helped. Thanks in part to the encouragement, I've been able to figure out a solid way to rewrite the story. It will take time, but I've already written a scene. That's a good step, right?

All writers experience growth and change in their writing. It's part of why you almost always hear a well known author lament how "terrible" their first novel is, even if it is published. I don't know a single person who can't give me the title or description of one awful published novel they're come across. They're out there: usually they're the ones that make us ask, "If this garbage can get published, why can't I?"

This is where finding joy in the journey comes in. Not everything we write will be awesome, but it will help us learn, if we're open to teaching.

Killing the Independents

By Keith N Fisher

I watched a documentary on Public Television the other day. It was called, Paperback Dreams and it lamented the demise of two San Francisco Bay area book stores. Cody’s Books, in Berkely, California, and Kepler’s across the bay in Menlo Park.

The narrator talked about their beginnings and how they became Mecca for the free thinkers and counter-culture radicals of the sixties. Cody’s even served as a medical first-aid station in nineteen-sixty eight during a Telegraph Avenue anti war protest. The police & National Guard used tear gas and clubs to disperse the crowd. So, a group of former army medics who’d been in Vietnam, offered to help those who were injured.

Many famous people, writers and musicians cut their proverbial teeth in those stores. Joan Baez talked about the time she spent in Kepler’s and what she learned. Even the Grateful Dead, hung out there. Roy Kepler, the founder, used to complain that they always played the same song, and stole the ashtrays. Over the years, there have been many writers who read their work at Cody’s and Keplers and left a signed photograph for the wall. Those places were filled with literary tradition.

The show explored the different ways those two stores have struggled to survive. The economy will always be a problem for book sales, but the real threat started when reading fell victim to visual media. Book sales dropped, but the trade paperback, with the cheaper price, saved the business and gave those two stores their start. Then, came the threat from big box stores, like Walmart, Costco, and Target. They are still cutting into the market, but online, discount booksellers have devastated the industry. The latest attacks on independent bookstores have come from e-books and print on demand and it’s killing bookstores.

As writers, we selfishly plot and scheme. We look to our bottom line to find the best way to get our work published. We embrace the brave new world in our attempt to market our careers and sell books. After all, that is the point, right? Technology is the wave of the future, isn’t it? I wonder how many of us consider what the brave new world is doing to the independent bookstore.

We search for places to launch our books and moan the loss of independents, but forget to patronize those stores during the rest of the year. We buy each other’s books online and as e-books. Who can afford to do otherwise?

During the closing of one of the stores in the documentary, one of the customers claimed she used to come into the store three times a week. In a private response, the owner of the store wondered, if that were true, where were the sales? It’s the bottom line that closed the store.

With the routine closing of independents and now, national chains, like Borders, we are losing a way of life. The exchange of ideas and independent thought of the sixties are gone. Meeting at Borders for a cappuccino and a quiet place to write is going away, too. Did you ever walk into a small bookstore and breathe in the aroma of freshly printed books? You won’t get that at Amazon. Well, the warehouse workers might, but thumbing the pages and fingering the spine is impossible with e-books.

With the loss of independent booksellers, our world is changing.

I’ve lamented the coming of E-books and print on demand before. I certainly don’t want to harp on something that is inevitable. I just wish we could hold-on to the better parts of our society.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.

Friends in High Places

Well, perhaps that's not the right title, but it's what came to mind.  I had dinner with a couple of women last night that all have the same birth month as me.  October.  It's a great month to have a birthday in - I know I'm prejudice that way, but I happen to love October.  Anyway - one of the women is a young mother who is trying to write and get back to writing in a consistent way.  She hasn't written for 10 years, and feels like she's way behind in the curve.

She remembered talking to me and how I'm a writer and thought I might be interested to know she had just joined a writers group and thought I might like to join with her.  I thanked her for thinking about me, but told her I'd been a member of a critique group for several years, and yes, it's a wonderful thing.  Isn't it funny how I wrote about critique groups last week?  I think it's interesting how these things seem to come circling around.

I also think it's admirable that she's realized she needs outside input to get her writing going.  That is pretty smart, something it took several years for me to pick up on.  So, I think she's way ahead of the curve, and her writing can only improve with effort.  She said that her first meeting made her feel very behind, as everyone else's writing was wonderful and her's was awful.  I doubt there was that big of a difference, but I also remember how one of the newer members of my group went home and bawled because she'd had such a hard time listening to our suggestions.

Having someone critique your baby is hard.  Not only is it a part of you out for the world to see, but you want so desperately for someone to like it, to validate that you're a writer.  When they say sure, but you need to fix this and that, it's like saying "yeah, we can save you but it will cost your leg and part of your arm.  Can you work with that?"

I salute those who have realized that they need help and want advise.  It takes guts to realize you can't do it on your own, no matter how good you.  How many of you have gone out there and found that group after last week??  Roll call!!

The Best Laid Plans

by Cheri Chesley

A few years ago, I wrote a story for my niece as a birthday present. I've always been happy with it, in memory, and loved the concept of the story. How fun would it be, I thought, with Halloween approaching, to release this story as an ebook since it's a fun little ghost story/mystery. So I emailed the girl who'd been working on the cover for me, and set a release date for tomorrow--October 14, 2011.

Then I realized I need to authenticate the story, set in Scotland, by doing some research into the area and culture. Not all facts will make it into the story, I reasoned, but I needed to have a clear picture in my mind in order to project a clear image on paper.

At last, I sat down to edit the story and get it ready to publish.

And realized it's terrible.

Don't get me wrong, the plot is solid. It's actually a really cool mystery set over 500 years. But the writing, what I remembered as being so good at the time, is really awful.

First of all, there's almost no showing. It's all tell, all the time. Secondly it's incredibly trite. The way the characters talk to one another is forced and unnatural. I'm embarrassed to think there was a time when I thought it was good.

I know I'm not the only person this has happened to, and I'm sure you all have stories to share. While I'm trying to figure out if this one is worth salvaging, I'd like to hear from you. I definitely could use a little boost. :)

Looking Literary

By Keith N Fisher

I attended the Book Academy this week. It’s a one-day conference put on by the UVU Continuing Education Department. There were four breakout sessions, a panel of book reviewers, book signings, and Dan Wells was the keynote speaker. Breakfast was great and lunch was delicious. I’ve attended for three years now, and I’m still impressed.

Anyway, I sat in the ballroom getting ready to eat and someone joined me. We talked about writing and whether I was published yet or not. The man told me I look like an author. When I asked why, the subject of my beard and long hair came up.

Hmm. I didn’t know I was unkempt in order to look literary. I thought it was because I work at night and haven’t been able to connect with my barber. I had been self-conscious since I would be talking with Kirk Shaw from Covenant. I didn’t want to make a poor impression since I’m waiting to hear from them about one of my manuscripts. Now, whenever I look at myself in the mirror, I see Hemmingway or Vonnegut. I might have something here. Do you think I could be a famous author just by looking like Walt Whitman?

No, I write LDS fiction so, don’t think it’ll work. Maybe, it’s national market time? Maybe, it’s easier to just get my haircut and beard trimmed.

I learned some things at the conference and met some new friends. It’s surprising that more people don’t attend. Many of those I see at Storymakers would also love this one. Mark it on your calendar for next year. Jessica Day George will be the keynote speaker.

Good luck with your writing—see you next week.