Nano Diaries: It Happened Again! #NaNoWriMo2017

Writing Banner

I knew it would happen. It always does, just not quite so early into NaNo.

My prep work included five characters:

The protagonist and her boyfriend,

The protagonist’s mother (the antagonist) and her lover,

The protagonist’s mentor.

There are a handful of tertiary characters necessary to move the story along, but nothing more.

The gruff, veteran chopper pilot was only supposed to give the heroine a ride to the commercial airport, but that was just too easy.

The second she’s in the chopper, I become possessed by a fictional character!

He takes over the scene spouting truths and wisdom which actually helped my heroine. I’m doing the typing, but a character I know nothing about is doing the talking. Weird. But, I let the dialogue stand… for now, and I got her out of that chopper!

She continues on her journey to say goodbye to a friend and confront her past when it all overwhelms her.

Fortunately, there’s a strategically placed tourist stand for her to pull over and collect herself.

The grandmotherly owner, who’s a dead ringer for Betty White, is supposed to ring up the heroine’s purchase…nothing more, when BAM! I’m again possessed by a fictional character!

What the…?

But grandma Betty is good, delivering her own wisdom that actually helps and puts the heroine in the right frame of mind for what’s coming.

It’s times like this I wonder why I bother to plan at all.

I have no idea who will show up next, but why should I? I’m just the writer… the characters are the boss of me.

NaNoWriMo Day 4 word count – 3125

Total – 8669/50000

Keep Writing!

#WritingChallenge #Week44

Sacrificial Daughter

52-Week Writing Challenge: Week 44

NaNoWriMo lives! This unedited excerpt is from my 2017 project, Sacrificial Daughter.

Thirty minutes passed before Ana Sellers returned Jeff Russell’s call. Expecting a receptionist or machine, she was surprised when Jeff answered the phone.

“Russell and Peters, may I help you?”

“I’m returning a call to Jeff Russell.”

“Analeigh?”

Pulling the phone away from her ear, Ana stared at it, incredulous. He knew her? Sixteen years had passed since the day she left Corwin without looking back.

“You know me?”

You were a year ahead of me in school.”

The name still didn’t ring any bells so she would have to take his word for it.

“I see. And now you’re an attorney in Corwin.?”

“Yes, my cousin, Adam, and I took over the practice from our dads about seven years ago.”

“And… and why d-do you need to speak to me, Jeff? What is the urgency?”

Silence was his response.

“Jeff? Still there?”

“Yes, I’m here. I’ve been looking for you for over two weeks.”

“Please tell me what this is about and why you’ve been looking for me.”

She heard an exhale escape from him, gruff and harsh.

“Analeigh, Rosie Chastain passed away.”

Ana froze. Rosie? Gone? No. No way. She spoke to her dear friend… three weeks ago. Damn it. Rosie said she was coming down with a cold but was looking forward to flying to Georgia in July to see her good friend and surrogate daughter.

Ana pulled at her chest, trying to ease the pain gnawing at her heart.

“W-What happened?”

“Heart failure. She told everyone she had a cold, but it was pneumonia. Her heart wasn’t strong enough to handle it. Rosie had a heart attack and slipped into a coma. Three days later, she coded. There was nothing the doctors could do.”

Her dear friend was gone. Ana’s skin prickled with anxiety as she fought to keep grief from overwhelming her.

“Jeff, how did you find me? What made you even look for me?”

“Like I said, it took some time, Analeigh. Rosie didn’t get out much the last few years. The few people she did talk to said she was disgusted with the changes and direction of Corwin.”

Ana knew that was true.

She tried to avoid the subject of Corwin when she and Rosie talked. Ana didn’t need memories of the place flashing through her mind, and Rosie said it decayed into nothing more than a political cesspool. The town’s first families — the Burfords, Foleys, and Lakes held all the offices of power. They treated Corwin like it was their personal kingdom and speaking out against them killed social standing and sometimes worse.

“Rosie had no family, and at the beginning, we thought she had no will. After wading through the legalities, we were able to enter her home. We found her will, drawn up by an attorney over in Spradlin. We also found your name and number, but the number was disconnected.”

Damn it! After a mini-battle with her cell provider over dropped calls and shoddy service, Ana switched carriers… and got a new number… four days after she and Rosie last spoke.

Analeigh didn’t bother to wipe away her tears when she realized by the time she activated her new number… Rosie was already gone.

“Analeigh?”

“I’m here, Jeff. Just trying to take all this in.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you like this, Analeigh.”

“It’s alright. I do appreciate the call, Jeff… and thank you.”

“Wait, Analeigh. I didn’t hunt you done just to tell you Rosie was gone. In her will, she left everything to you. Her home and the store.”

The buzzing in Ana’s ears roared over Jeff’s voice. Analeigh Sellers sat there overwhelmed and in shock with a sense of dread taking over.

Image from ThinkStock

©Felicia Denise 2017

NaNo Diaries: Distractions #NaNoWriMo

Writing Banner

On any given day, you’re sure to find a post or comment by someone saying they can never find the time to write.

Yes, if you work a fulltime job, have a spouse and children, friends and family, a hobby…any semblance of a LIFE, most days, your time is not your own.

But. Think about it. How many times have you sat down with your device of choice with a task in mind—paying bills, checking test scores, researching a future major purchase, book travel plans, etc.—and found yourself opening your email, checking any or ALL of your social network accounts, watching a video of a sloth eating a grape or taking a quiz to find out which Avenger you’re most like?

Distractions.

You’re not alone. We all have the pretty, shiny object that so easily pulls our attention away from the task at hand.

Pinterest is my downfall.

I can pull up the app in search of a photo of a land mass or mountain range to match a location I’ve written about, and two hours later, I have no photo of my location… but I do have three recipes for Pad Thai, a new pattern for an afghan, fifteen more coffee memes, and a detailed infogram on how to turn empty toilet paper rolls into a decorative Christmas centerpiece.

I am weak and in need of help… and probably intense counseling.

In my last NaNo Diaries post, I mentioned I’d jumped on the AlphaSmart bandwagon. No Internet connection, no wifi—just me and a sturdy little word processor that I purposely use away from all my other devices, including my phone. My adult children hate that.

But there are still times when I need to be online and around all my favorite distractions, and that’s when I use an Internet blocker. I have the paid version of Freedom.to. I can set it for any amount of time I chose, from minutes to hours, and the Internet is gone. Can’t open a browser or app. (Yes, I’ve tried.)

There are quite a few other Internet blocking apps available, but not all have free versions.

Anti-Social (In the process of merging with Freedom.to but love the name!)

Cold Turkey (Free Version Available)

Rescue Time (Free Version Available)

FocusMe

These are great little tools to have to help you block online distractions, but the writing part is still up to you. Sorry.

I started coming down with a head cold yesterday and had to struggle for word count… but I got it! For NaNoWriMo Day 3, I’m at 5544/50000.

Today is NaNoWriMo Double-Up Donation Day. Check it out. Make a donation and double your word count for the day.

I’m going to give it a shot… even though I can’t stop sneezing and my head feels bigger than Wyoming.

Keep Writing!

NaNo Diaries: Editing? Nope! #NaNoWriMo

Writing Banner

One of the first things you’ll learn during a NaNoWriMo challenge is do not waste time editing.

We’re told to turn off our inner editor. Bound, gag and toss them into a closet. Send them on vacation. Put your inner edit on IGNORE.

Editing slows you down. While you should be moving on to the next scene or chapter, you stare at what you’ve written and it just isn’t quite… right.

So, you futz around trying to rebuild the world, or block the scene, or build the suspense and an hour later, the page still sucks, you have a total word count of 537, and you just want a drink or your bed…or both!

Save your sanity and sobriety and don’t edit.

True, it’s easier said than done. But, when you think of the time wasted on editing text that will be re-edited several times in the coming weeks and months after NaNoWriMo, self-editing while you write becomes less of a problem.

In most writing programs and apps, the screen can be modified so only a few lines of text are visible at a time. If self-editing is a big problem for you, it would benefit you to investigate how the process works in your particular writing program.

I’m trying something different this year.

A few months ago, I saw several authors post about the Alphasmart, a writing tool used in schools and computer labs in days gone by. They’re no longer in production, but after a bit of research, I found there are still tons of them around, new and refurbished, and the company still supplies and support. #WIN

I ordered one from Amazon and OMG! The sky is blue, birds are singing, and I’m sure I saw a Unicorn walk past my window!

AlphaSmart NEO2

This is not a high tech piece of equipment. It’s strictly for word processing. There is NO way to connect it to the Internet. It holds up to one hundred pages of text. It’s lightweight and has a battery life unrivaled by any device–more than seven hundred hours from three AAA-batteries. (I’ve been using mine daily for over two months and the usage line on the battery meter is so small, I can’t measure it.)

And word count? My word count is rockin’! Only four lines of text are visible (with the font setting I use) so I can’t see my WIP and languish over words already written when I should be writing new words!

For Day 2 of NaNoWriMo, I wrote 1914 new words. I can live with that!

Word count total – 3815/50000.

Save

NaNo Diaries #NaNoWriMo

Writing Banner

NaNoWriMo2017… here we go again! Good lord, I think I’m addicted!

Why else would a sane (by most accounts) person put themselves through this?

The adrenaline rush of November 1st morphs into self-doubt by the 15th, and by the 20th when validation begins, NaNoWriMo seems like the stupidest thing to come along since Big Mouth Billy Bass, the singing fish.

And yet, we trip over ourselves to register every year. Gluttons for punishment (like me) even enter the camps in April and July.

But it is SO worth it!

I’ve learned a lot. Writing voice, writing styles, show vs. tell, passive voice… are more than simple phrases authors throw out to sound smart. (Um…I’ll leave that alone.)

These are just some of the elements needed to write an interesting book.

NaNoWriMo also reinforces the point that even pantsers need a plan. (Calm down, pantsers!)

I was a die-hard pantser–and it worked for me for years. But then, I was writing for myself, church bulletins, PTA newsletters, and fanfic.

Pantsing almost worked for during my first NaNoWriMo challenge. But after reaching 38K, I was like, “Uh…I got nothing.”

I learned the benefits of prepping and for this challenge I began in August.

NaNo Prep

While I may not plot out every location, scene or dialogue, I do write an outline, character sketches, and scene outlines.

Does it work for me? To some extent. But after one day, two scenes, five pages and 1901 words, I already have TWO full pages of changes.

On to day two.

Wordless Wednesday

Serenity

Image from Pixabay

Giving Back #WritingChallenge

Medal of Honor

52-Week Writing Challenge: Week 43

An excerpt from Heartburn (formerly For Worse), last year’s NaNoWriMo project, releasing early in 2018.

For almost forty years, the Chase-Holland Veteran’s Outreach Center warmly welcomed military veterans from all over the country.

Named for Graham Chase and Lawrence Holland—two twenty-one-year-old Army privates killed in action during the Vietnam War, the center never charged veterans for any services received, and they never turned anyone away.

As a twenty-two-year-old Army clerk, Richard Chase, who was ten when his older brother was killed, found out Graham and another soldier, Lawrence Holland, had sacrificed their lives by drawing fire away from a small group of women and children fleeing an attack on their village.

An unpopular war with much of the U.S. in the sixties, countless acts of courage and bravery were never acknowledged.

After leaving the Army two years later, Richard Chase enrolled in college full-time. While studying to become a history teacher, he began a campaign tell the story of his brother, Holland, and so many others who made the ultimate sacrifice while serving in Vietnam. A university professor who’d lost an older brother in the Korean War joined Richard’s campaign and steered his influential friends and university alumni to Richard. What started out as an idea for a book grew into a fund for a memorial.

When it was learned the growing homeless population included veterans, Richard knew what his ‘memorial’ would be… a center where vets could go anytime—day or night— and receive a meal, a place to rest, and assistance to end their homelessness.

Two wealthy brothers heard about the campaign and wanted to help. One made a sizable cash donation and the other donated a piece of property just outside of West Hollywood.

The Chase-Holland Veteran’s Outreach Center opened its doors in March of 1990 and served tens of thousands of veterans over the years by helping them find housing, apply for vet benefits, and get medical and psychological treatment.

Quinn Landon was relieved to find street parking in front of the center. More than a few car doors and fenders had received nicks, dents, and scratches in the tiny center parking lot located behind the building.

“Hey, Fred. Our girl is back.”

Grinning, Quinn didn’t have to turn around to know who was shouting from across the street–Noel Adams, Vietnam war vet, cancer survivor, dialysis patient and recently, diagnosed with diabetes.

A well-known figure at the center and in the community, seventy-year-old Noel sat in his wheelchair on the tiny porch of his bungalow across the street from Chase-Holland.

Fred Alizo waved to Quinn as she exited her car.

“Woman, if I could run I’d hightail it over there and kiss you.”

More reserved than his neighbor, Fred’s remark surprised both Quinn and Noel.

Shaking her head at her two favorite troublemakers, Quinn crossed the street to hug Fred. She crossed their short side street to hug Noel.

“We thought you’d forgotten about us, young’un.”

Fred spoke up before she could respond.

“What he said was you probably had a baby and mommy-duties.”

Noel flipped Fred off as Quinn looked back and forth between the two men.

The realization her pending divorce no doubt cost her a chance at being a mother flashed through Quinn’s mind. She pushed it aside and chuckled.

“Sorry, guys. Life got busy… Super busy. While I do love my job, I realized I missed doing other things I love too, like spending time with friends.”

The two men beamed.

Leaving Noel’s yard, she backed the few short steps to the corner, still talking to the vets.

“Let me get inside, get caught up and work for a few hours…” Quinn stopped at the corner. “And when I’m done,” she pointed at each man. “…and if you’ve managed to stay out of trouble, maybe I can catch up with you guys… over pastrami burgers.”

“Don’t worry, Quinn. I’ll keep Noel out of trouble.”

Giving Fred the ‘thumb’s up’ gesture, Quinn roared with laughter at the annoyed look on Noel’s face.

She was still laughing as she entered the center.

Another Loss #WritingChallenge

Sunset

52-Week Writing Challenge: Week 42

Another snippet from the upcoming Family Matters. The loss of her longtime protector, mentor, and father-figure, Willis Benson, blindsides Olivia Chandler.

An hour late, Olivia strode past Margot’s desk, her eyes focused on her office door.

Margot watched her pass, unhappy with what she was about to do. Setting her workstation to away status, she followed her boss into Olivia’s office.

Olivia appeared not notice Margot’s presence and fumbled around, pulling out her laptop and opening file folders.

Standing near the door, Margot folded her arms across her chest… and waited. She watched Olivia move folders around her desk several times before placing them in their original positions.

Lost in thought, the attorney remained standing at her desk, head bowed. When at last she looked up, Olivia was startled at seeing Margot.

“What’s wrong?”

“You tell me, Olivia. You’ve been in a fog since you got here… late. You’re never late.”

“We all have off days, Schultz.”

“You don’t. Not when it comes to your job.”

“Well, guess I’m due then, huh?”

“Maybe. Olivia, what’s-”

“How’s the day shaping up? Bowers custody hearing at one, right? Does Louis have the background check done for the Nealy case?”

“Yes, the background check is back… and on your desk,” she gestured at the mess Olivia had created, “somewhere. Mr. Bowers has asked for a thirty-day continuance and Mrs. Bowers isn’t arguing against it. Judge Whelan is ready to grant it as long as you don’t have a problem with the custody arrangement for the kids.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I have no problem with the custody arrangement.”

Margot glared at her boss as her patience wore thin.

“I haven’t told you what the arrangements are yet, Olivia.”

A pained look marred Olivia’s features. She fell back into her chair… silent.

Margot turned and closed the office door. Her brow knitted with worry, she took a seat in front of Olivia’s desk.

“Talk to me. Olivia, what happened?”

“I’m fine, Margot. It’s an off day. It hap-”

“Stop it.”

Leaning forward, the office manager’s voice hardened. Her eyes bored into Olivia.

“You were late. You didn’t take any of my calls or texts. You haven’t taken any of Bruce’s calls and the man is crazy with worry. He drove by your house twice last night and wanted to call the police when you weren’t there. You don’t want to talk about it, fine. But we care about you, Olivia, and we don’t deserve to be treated like we don’t matter.”

Margot stood and walked toward the door, still talking. “Please let me know how you want to proceed after you read the Bowers custody arrangements.”

Olivia’s shoulders slumped, shame bearing down on her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. As Margot reached for the doorknob, Olivia called out but for all her effort, her voice was low, soft and quavered.

“Margot, I’m sorry.”

The offended woman stopped, leaving the door closed but she also didn’t turn around.

“You’re right. I’m being unfair. I-I… don’t know why I have such a problem processing-”

Margot whirled around. “Olivia, dammit! What happened?”

Grief and anxiety won. Olivia wilted deeper into her chair as the first tear fell.

“Willis died last night.”

“The past had scarred them all…”

Free_Kindle_Cell

Leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, Lennie stared across the empty living room. The day Duncan ran from her had been one of her most painful. He had always been a high-spirited child. More prone to wander, break a rule, or lead his younger brothers astray. However, he’d never done anything that warranted more than a time-out. Duncan had never been cruel to anyone or deliberately put anyone in harm’s way. Had someone told Lennie the argument in the high school parking lot with her son would take place, she would have thought them crazy.

But it did happen.

Insistent on not entering counseling, Duncan had run from Lennie. The anger building inside her at his disrespectful tone dissipated immediately at her last glimpse of his eyes.

Confusion.

Pain.

And fear.

The memory of it all in her son’s face made Lennie even more determined to get him to a therapist. She would not allow this to scar his life… not if she could help. Ranard had received no help for the verbally abusive childhood he had because of his father. Lennie knew his failure as a husband and father were directly related to his relationship with his father.

Duncan deserved a better life.

The memory played on rewind in Lennie’s mind.

Sitting in her Chevy Tahoe, still taking glances in the direction Duncan had gone. She wanted him to come back… but knew he wouldn’t. The despair Lennie knew he felt would now be enhanced by the shame of his behavior with her.

Consumed with the situation with her eldest son, Lenore Porter drove home. Pulling her vehicle into the garage, she exited and went through the garage’s rear entrance to her back door… and found Duncan sitting in the old swing near the Sugar Maple tree.

He shook his head slowly without meeting her gaze.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“I’m glad you’re safe, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t have run away like that.”

“You were feeling overwhelmed. Looks like you still are.”

“I’m not crazy, mama… I’m not.”

Lennie’s chest tightened. He had not called her that since second grade. Sitting her bag at the bag door, Lennie walked over and took the swing next to Duncan.

They both silently rocked for a few minutes.

“Most people who go to counseling aren’t mentally ill, Dunc. Life just has a way of dumping too much on us at once,” she touched his hand, “the drowning feeling you mentioned? That’s where it comes from. It happens to us all at some point during our lives.”

“Have you ever felt like you were drowning, mom?”

“Not drowning so much as helpless.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, don’t take this as clinical or anything, but I knew the problem, and I knew the cause. I just couldn’t fix it.”

“Dad.” It was a statement, not a question.

Lennie’s smile was bittersweet. “Yes.”

“He hasn’t been very nice to you, mom.” Taking a deep breath, Duncan continued. “But you never gave up. You’ve always been… mom.”

“Darlin, the obstacle doesn’t exist that could separate me from my Porter Patrol. Good days or bad, you and your brothers always got the best of me, and you always will. I couldn’t give you the stereotyped version of a good family life, but I tried to make sure you have a good life. I don’t think we’ve done too badly. This is a bump in the road, and-”

“Can you make me another appointment with the shrink?”

Duncan laughed at the smirk on her face.

“Okay, okay. Counselor, therapist… whatever. I still don’t want to go, but I’ve let you down enough.” He stared at his feet.

“Duncan?”

Lennie didn’t speak again until he looked at her.

“You have never let me down. You’re sixteen years old and going through a bad time because of the actions of adults. You haven’t done anything wrong. But this is something you have to want. You cannot do it for me, baby. You don’t have to want to go to counseling… you have to want to get better and be your old self again.”

“So, you’ll make the appointment?”

“Well…”

“What, mom?”

“We haven’t missed today’s appointment yet.”

“Huh?”

“I was picking you up from school early… to give us time to talk before the appointment.”

Lennie looked at her watch.

“We’ll just make it. Run in and wash up and change your shirt. I’ll wait right here.”

Nodding, the teen stood and headed for the back door, but turned, walked back and kissed his mother’s forehead. Still silent, Duncan entered the house.

The smile on Lenore’s face faded as Duncan walked away. Her son was angry… and afraid.

The past had scarred them all.

Amazon US http://bit.ly/LindenLane

Amazon UK http://bit.ly/LindenLaneUK

Amazon CA http://bit.ly/LindenLaneCA

Amazon AU http://bit.ly/LindenLaneAU

Goodreads http://bit.ly/FreeANovella