Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Writer.

According to the Farmer's Almanac, the dog days of summer follow the summer solstice and last for 40 days.

The lake wasn't far, but walking in the shimmering heat made it seem farther away than usual. As she got closer, the rotten stink of dead fish assaulted her nose. Sometimes when it got this hot the lake would shrink and fish would get caught in the muck and die. She figured this summer was hot enough to kill some fish, but when she got to the lake it didn't seem any smaller. Then she saw the dead fish washed up on the shore. There were a lot of them. "Ew!" She said to nobody.

Prodding one of the dead fish with the toe of her tennis shoe, she watched a little crab scuttle out from underneath it's body and disappear into the murky water. She wondered if the crab had been eating the dead fish or had just been hiding in the shade. Probably, if it had been eating the dead fish there would've been a lot more crabs than just one, like ants on a watermelon rind at Aunt Clara's picnic last year. She shuddered thinking about as many crabs as there had been ants.

"It's the algae in the water."

She spun around and saw an old woman with shaggy, grey hair and a walking stick standing behind her. "What?"

"There's too much algae in the water. It kills the fish." The woman said, nodding down at the dead fish at her sandal-clad feet.

"What's al-gee?"

The woman cocked her head. "It's a kind of water plant."

The girl shook her head. "Plants don't kill fish, animals do. Like...like," she struggled to remember an animal that ate fish, "bears."

"Not many bears around here."

The girl glanced up and down the beach. It was true. She'd never seen a bear eating fish at the lake. Or had ever actually seen a bear. Only pictures in books. Marcus's books mostly. Boy books had way more pictures of animals like bears and sharks than girl books did.

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Writer.

Following the rise of the star system Sirius, the dog days of summer bring sudden, violent thunderstorms, lethargy, drought, mad dogs, fever, and bad luck. (ref. Wikipedia).

She stretched out in the tall grass and watched the cottonwood seeds drift by overhead. Marcus had called it summer snow. She liked that. He'd always had a cool way of describing things. Sweat pooled along her back making her T-shirt stick and her hot skin itch. No doubt she'd be sunburned by the time she got home. A sudden moving itch on her bare leg made her jolt upright and brush a big black ant away. Why did the outside have to be ruined by so many bugs? She and Marcus would've stayed up and caught frogs at night if it weren't for the clouds of mosquitoes. And how many times had they been driven from the shores of Tawny Lake by the biting flies?

She stared out across the field. The wildflowers were wilting in the heat and the grass was tinged brown with drought. Papa said that if it didn't rain soon, he'd have to pay Jonas to irrigate the fields again. Summers that Papa had to pay Jonas meant that she'd have to wear last year's clothes to school in the fall and that she wouldn't have any milk money. She glanced up at the robin's egg sky and frowned at the lack of clouds. If Marcus were still around, he'd probably suggest they do a rain dance or make an offering of spit or blood or piss to the rain gods. It was too hot to dance around, but she considered making an offering. After all, she still had the pocket knife she and Marcus had used to become "blood brothers." But no. She'd already gotten punished for cutting her hand the first time and she was too thirsty for the other offerings.

A bee buzzed passed and landed heavily on a blue flower next to her. She watched it scrounge for nectar and pollen while the stem drooped, then makes its way noisily to the next blossom. Papa once stepped on a bee hive in the back pasture and got forty-two stings before he reached the creek. Mama said he could've died. She wondered how this fuzzy creature bumbling among the flowers could possibly have chased her father from the pasture to the creek. It looked too heavy to even fly from one flower to the next. "It's so slow, I bet I could catch it." She told no one. But what was the point of catching it if no one was there to see it?

She wished Marcus was there to watch her. He'd once caught a fish with his bare hands in the pond. He'd stood very still in the water for a long time with his hands under the water and then scooped up a minnow when it swam over his hands. She'd dared him to eat it, but he'd let it go instead. If she'd caught one, she would've eaten it. There's no sense in catching fish if you aren't going to eat them.

Sweat dripped into her eye and made it sting. Maybe Papa could just hold her over the crops and she could sweat on them. She rose and wiped her damp hands on her shorts. Sitting in the grass wasn't as fun as it used to be with Marcus. Glancing around her, she headed toward the lake instead of home. She wasn't supposed to go there by herself, but now that Marcus was gone she didn't know who would go with her. Mama was busy with washing and cooking and Papa was busy with the crops. Or had he gone into town today with Mr. Butler? She couldn't remember. One hot, cloudless day bled into the other and stretched out as far as she could think.

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Writer.

Been thinking a lot about phrasing lately. There are many ways to say the same thing, but each has a subtle nuance of meaning. To give an example: lovely, secluded, rustic vacation cottage in a verdant stretch of pine forest vs cabin in the woods. These two phrases could be talking about the same place, but evoke a very different response from the reader, namely relaxation vs murder.

Another good example of phrasing is when you're describing a person who committed an error. Are they mistaken or are they wrong? Think about it. Would you rather be told you were mistaken or that you were wrong?

Phrasing is a part of writing that shouldn't be ignored. Was the night moist with a cool breeze or was it damp with a bitter wind? It's a fun mental exercise to come up with multiple ways of saying the same thing that bring to mind completely different images, feelings, or tones. Is the person thin or bony or are they skeletal? Did he say, "this is something my mother would like," (awww) or did she say, "mother would be pleased?" (ewww)

If words paint pictures, phrasing is the shading of those images.

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Writer.

Think I've done a post on this before, but it bears repeating. Ever notice how the last 10% of anything is the hardest to accomplish? That last 10% of recovering from a long cold (cough, cough), the last 10% of your NaNo novel, that last 10% of editing; all way more difficult than the first 90%. Seems like just when you think you're done, something else creeps up or you find more edits or you rush your recovery and start hacking up a lung again.

My only advice here is what I cheer to my niece as she runs around the track: "All the way!" In order to make writing work you must do it "all the way." You must finish writing that story and editing it! One of the biggest causes of rejection from publishers and agents is the 90% finished novel. Don't cheat yourself out of finishing a project right. Stick with it all the way to the end polish and you'll find real victory.

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Write

So, you can probably tell by the lateness of this post that things have been a bit crazy. I don't have much time, so I'll just talk about one of the tips I picked up at Penguicon this year that has become immediately helpful.

The tip: Don't skimp on your secondary characters.

Remember that these are real people too, not just cardboard cut-out fillers. Right now I'm writing two secondary characters that don't even have names! Not good. They should not only have names, but hopes and dreams, and most importantly, a reason for being in your story.

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Write

May the Fourth Be With You.

Okay, okay, so I know I promised a live Friday night post, but we were at the Geeky Burlesque last night and Penguicon is a marathon, not a sprint. What did you miss yesterday besides the Geeky Burlesque? Well, you missed a panel on tropes (where we discussed the anime harem, the magical, flying black man, the dead mom, the love triangle, and white dude saves the world), a fan discussion of Ray Bradbury, a panel on self-editing, makers panels, coding panels, science panels, costumes, ribbons, and lots of geeky T-shirts. Oh there were also a bunch of room parties, including a Harry Potter themed party with butter beer and caldron cakes!

What can we look forward to today? Well, my husband is already up and running a 5K! I'm sadly forced to skip out on BurleXcersice to write this blog and prepare to hear a reading by Michael Cieslak and Nicole Castle, go to a panel on blocking writer's block, give a talk on beekeeping, host Promptapalooza, attend the writer's reception, listen to advice on writing a great query, do a reading myself from my 5-minutes-in-the-future, detective, techno-thriller "Whispers of a Killer" with my pal Leslie (aka Skeeter Enright), maybe do an escape room, learn about psycho-linguistics from buddy Clif Flynt, watch terrible videos from the internet, and make our pilgrimage to the Demon Lobster podcast. Whew! Now you understand what I mean by marathon. This does not include possible room parties tonight!

Anyways, I've got to let you go. It's May the 4th, and Hoth Leia's hair won't braid itself!

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Writer

Coming soon (next week), "Live from Penguicon, it's Friday Night!"

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Writer

So here is your yearly friendly reminder that Penguicon is neigh. This year Penguicon is taking place Friday, May 3rd - Sunday, May 5th. What is Penguicon? It's basically a geek convention complete with science, technology, literature, scifi fandom, cosplay, open source, games, pop culture, and penguins. We've been going for the past 7? years, and have had a blast every time. This year I will be hosting a number of activities including a panel on tropes, a prompt writing extravaganza, a perfect pitch contest, a talk on beekeeping, and possibly a reading from my soon to be published detective techno-thriller. Don't miss out on all the great panels for writers!

Hope to see you there!

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Writer

The trunk banged shut with a resounding boom as he snatched his fingers back as if the lid had suddenly transformed into burning poison ivy. Spinning around, he kicked the candle with his foot, causing it to go rolling and guttering across the floor. In the inconstant light from the traveling candle, he could see an inky figure standing near the overturned chair with its hands on its hips.
 
So, this is another passage from Miles from Manistique close to the passage from the last post. Let’s dissect it a bit.

“The trunk banged shut with a resounding boom as he snatched his fingers back”: Not too bad, though, the “resounding boom” might be a little much. The banging lid certainly made a loud noise, and in this creepy setting it may have sounded louder than it really was, but still, a “resounding boom” is more the work of a rocket than a trunk.

“as if the lid had suddenly transformed into burning poison ivy.”: First of all, there are too many as’s in this sentence. Secondly, the poison ivy being on fire is also a bit too much. I think this sentence would’ve worked better if the trunk had suddenly caught fire OR been transformed into poison ivy.

“Spinning around, he kicked the candle with his foot, causing it to go rolling and guttering across the floor.”: I don’t mind this part. I actually really like the word guttering and it is something that only a candle does. But on second examination, what would he have kicked the candle with if not his foot?

“In the inconstant light from the traveling candle, he could see an inky figure standing near the overturned chair with its hands on its hips.”: Traveling is not the right word here. The candle doesn’t have an itinerary or a passport. It’s difficult because we’ve already sent the candle rolling, and probably don’t want to reuse that word, but what’s another word for rolling? The candle could be spiraling, spinning, turning, revolving, or rotating. I’m kinda partial to spiraling, but even better would be to cut out the clarification that the “inconstant light” is coming from the candle. The reader doesn’t need it. If we know that the only light is from the candle and that the candle has been kicked, then it follows that the light is now inconstant. The next problem is the “he could see.” It’s narrating senses which is generally a no-no. Previously discussed is the inconstant light of the candle, so if we simply said there was an inky figure, the reader can gather that the POV character saw them without having to say it.

The trunk slammed shut with a bang as he snatched his fingers back like the lid had suddenly transformed into poison ivy. Spinning around, he kicked the candle, causing it to go rolling and guttering across the floor. In the inconstant light, there was an inky figure standing near the overturned chair with its hands on its hips.
 
There, that’s better.

Keep Writing and Edit On.
I Write, I Edit, I Write Again. Witness!
We're Making Better Words, All of Them, Better Words.
I Write to Burn Off the Crazy.
A Good Day Writing is a Day Writing.
It Puts the Words on the Page or it Gets the Hose Again.
Just keep writing...just keep writing...writing, writing, writing!
Writing is Magic.
The First Rule of Write Club is You Talk About Write Club.
If You Aren't Writing, You Aren't a Writer