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Write Like a Pantser

Write Like a Pantser

The Day of First Sun - Copy to UseWhat’s a pantser you asked? There are two types of authors, one who like JK Rowling plans her work before she writes. You’ve seen her charts, every detail means something and it all gets into her books. She’s what’s known as a plotter. And then there are writers like me who are known as pantsers, who write by the seat of our pants. I’m not alone, Stephen King has admitted that he too is a pantser, a writer who starts with an idea, a beginning, middle and end and we sit in front of our blank page and just start to write. His view is that he’s like an archaeologist who finds that little piece of a larger artifact and as he digs, he reveals the whole thing.

The point of the explanation is this. I’m a pantser, I have an idea, a beginning, middle and end and when I sit down at the computer, I just write, I let the ideas flow out and onto the page and sometimes, I’m surprised when something happens, just like a reader might. It’s exciting and fun until you have to connect the dots of your books and they just don’t quite fit.

And so it went, I had books that weren’t selling well, bad reviews. I know I’ve told you the story before and in that I rewrote the books, I started over, because as I’ve said, I’m a pantser, I don’t plan through the series, until it no longer worked.

When I rewrote The Day of First Sun I knew what was to come, what I wanted to see in the books though I didn’t quite have a finale planned and I could add a few hints along the way. I’ll admit, the book is much better than it was and saying that, each new book added something to the story and they fit together as if it was meant to be.

I finished book two, coming in January 2017. It took a long time, several years in fact for me to find the right book, the right story to continue Annie and Cham’s journey and I found it in Black Market. And after rewriting the first book, restructuring the series, the story fit. It worked. And that spilled into book three and into book four and gave me the story for book five.

I hadn’t planned on writing a series in which all the books were somehow interconnected. I wanted a fun series with cool, interesting stories. But in the end, I found the connections, small at first, building to a climax in the making.

Was it worth it? Were the extra two years of work getting to this point, the frustration, the miscommunication, is it worth the She Wulf rewrite that I’m taking on to make the timeline fit.

I received a sweet message from a young woman I met at Book Con 2016. I had sold her a copy of The Day of First Sun. She read the book in less than a week and took the time to contact me via Facebook to let me know she loved the book. So what is worth it? Most definitely. I have never been so proud of my work or so excited to share with you what is to come.

Come see what people are saying about The Day of First Sun.

 

 

 

 

What is The Day of First Sun

What is The Day of First Sun

Wheat field in late afternoon rays of the setting sun over Royalty Free Stock Photos

The thing about writing urban fantasy stories, you get to make shit up. I like to base stories on traditional folk tales, stories that are familiar. I enjoy resonating with our collective past. Really, some of these tales are just too fascinating to pass up.

However, sometimes there just isn’t an appropriate existing story that fits well with my plot and that’s when I make shit up. Unfortunately or fortunately for me depending on how you look at it, I’m a pantser, meaning I write my stories with a rough idea of what the story is about, sometimes I have the beginning and the ending, oftentimes they don’t present themselves until a later point in time. What’s great about that is, I get surprised much like my readers would be surprised by plot twists. The downside, I come up with the idea and have to back track, research while in the grips of a great writing session. And that’s where making up stuff comes in really handy. If you think it’s a bad way to write, read Stephen King. He’s one of us too.

I find that with enough careful editing, my stories tend to fall in to place better than if I could actually plot them out. I’ve tried, I just can’t stick to the plan and for those of you who could, you’re known as a plotter, much like JK Rowling. The point though that I’m trying to make is, regardless of your personal style, we get to make stuff up to fit our story the best way we can, whether it’s beforehand or while writing. And in that process, the magical holiday of The Day of First Sun was born.

Excerpt from The Day of First Sun

Magic came to the world with the birth of the first magical child in a mystical clearing of land around 3500 BCE. To this day, that clearing was considered holy land for all magicals born thereafter, both good and evil. Over a millennium later, a battle was fought on the sacred land with devastating consequences.

A portal between Earth and other realms opened, giving vampires, werewolves, and other demons access to Earth. Myths told of a time when the sun did not come out and the beasts freely roamed the planet.

Centuries later, a brave witch fought a second battle on the sacred land, closing the portal forever. The battle, which took place on the first of September, became known as the Day of First Sun. Once the threshold closed, the sun emerged again, but it was too late. The Earth was overrun with supernatural evil.

 

Curious how the Day of First Sun affects the modern-day witch? Join the celebration. To order The Day of First Sun

The Day of First Sun - Copy to Use

 

The Water Churns, and Undulates, Alive with Pain, Anger, Love and Loss

The Water Churns, and Undulates, Alive with Pain, Anger, Love and Loss

I’m writing my memoir, sort of. It’s not an exact retelling of my life and the low, very low experiences that have eventually brought me to this point. It’s a lot of poetry, a lot of essays and a lot of imagery.

That’s not so remarkable. JK Rowling wrote about her depression. She made it a character in her books. Remember the dementors? They were an embodiment of the depression she experienced after her divorce. Mine is an image, its water. Water, something that I bathe in everyday, that I drink all day and use to prepare meals. And yet, since I was about six years old, I’ve been terrified of the water.

I learned to swim in a lake. Dark and dirty, I couldn’t see the bottom. I had a loss of control during one class, the day we jumped off the dock and the instructors kept us under water for what seemed like an eternity. I can still see the sun through the greenish water, a dull ball in the sky. I remember the panic waiting for the teacher to lift me out of the water. From that day on, I never liked being in the water.

I tried to learn over the years. I took the classes in high school, but my fear was so gripping that my teacher, while holding me in the deep end, told me, you are too afraid, I can’t teach you here.” She proceeded to swim me to the shallow end, where I spent the rest of the two-week unit, walking. As if that’s not a waste of time.

As I write about my life, about the death of my daughter, I find myself using water as a representation of that horrible time.

“it beats roughly against the rocky coast.”

“The water churns, and undulates, alive with pain, anger, love and loss. Each harsh wave erodes the rocks, removing a piece forever.”

“I can no longer breathe as the water pummels me, suppresses me, I try to scream but my voice can no longer be heard amidst the roar.”

I found myself writing the second entry and the images waters contained my sorrow, my heart-felt apologies, my fear and anger.

The water doesn’t just scare me. It terrifies me. White knuckle terror. When I took swimming lessons after the birth of my second child, I remember swimming in the deep end of pool. I climbed out still wearing my life jacket and stood above the pool. My teacher told me to jump in. My head understood the command, but my legs were grounded to the pool deck. I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed.

This is the imagery that describes the ups and downs. The white water rapids that describe my life. the way I can deliver my message and have others understand how I view my life.

Water terrifies.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

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Thanksgiving used to be my favorite holiday. I have memories of both sides of my family coming to our house. I always have a sense of warmth. Even as I remember fighting my dad and brother for crispy turkey skin or making stuffing in my pajamas. I have to admit, I don’t enjoy the holiday as much now that I’m an adult. It’s a lot of work and it’s exhausting. But I do hope that when I host it at my house, my children will take away their own special memories of Thanksgiving to pass on to their own children.

I’ve seen people this year expressing gratitude on Facebook. I didn’t participate because some of my things I’m grateful for might not seem as normal as others. But we’re all different and we all have different experiences that make us happy and thankful.

I’m always grateful for my children. They are amazing kids, fairly well-behaved, good students and constant reminders that I should be present in my life, take a little time to stop and enjoy and spent some quality time with them. Sometimes it’s not always easy, sometimes I just have to turn off the computer. Annie and Cham will just have to wait.

I’m thankful for the people in my life. Some you get stuck with, some you let in because you like them. It’s not always easy but they and the experiences you have with them make you who you are whether you like it or not.

I’m thankful for two amazing editors, Kira and Ashley. Not because they edited my books, but because they offered me a level of support beyond what was required and it was that support which kept me writing. For whatever reason they chose to give more of themselves and for that I will always be grateful and thankful.

I may never meet the next in my list but they influenced me in ways that truly shaped me as a writer. I’m thankful all of the writers of Nancy Drew who wrote under the name Carolyn Keene. It was my first time reading mysteries. I loved them and have ever since. To Judy Blume I’m thankful for the lesson in writing about characters you care for. I might not always hit the mark, but it’s always in the back of my head as I try to draw a complete picture of who they are. To Stephen King, I’m thankful for the lesson in imagination, and thinking outside the box. I’m writing fantasy, anything can go, so let it flow. And lastly I’m thankful to JK Rowling for simply writing books that made me happy, but most importantly, reminded me that I wanted to be a writer. Without that little push, I might not have written my own books.

Lastly, I’m thankful for being me. For learning something from all of my setbacks and realizing that with a little belief in myself I might be able to get somewhere good.

It’s always nice around this time to remember what we’re thankful for. I can add so many other things and people and expand beyond my books or career but for now I’ll leave the list where it is. It’s a fluid and ever-changing thing as life moves about.

So what are you thankful for? Happy Thanksgiving!

 

 

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