On Blogfests…

Okay, so I’ve done a few of ‘em. Blogfests, that is. Actually, I may have lost track at some point. Let’s see: the No-Kiss Blogfest, the Fight-Scene Blogfest, the Whoops! Blogfest, the Love at First Sight blogfest… have there been more? Oh, yes. Who can forget the PG Love Scene Blogfest. Yeah. wasn’t that one spiffy? *facepalm*

Anyway, the point of this post wasn’t to talk about how many blogfests I’ve entered. Rather, I wanted to talk about  how blogfests can be good for you as a writer. Okay, stop giggling. I can hear you, y’know. (Let’s assume it’s you, and not the voices in my head, okay? Okay.) They can be good for you. Really. Why, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you… (He’s going to tell, he’s going to tell… Stop that, stop that! No singing!)

Uh… where was I? Oh, yes. Blogfests. Here’s the deal: I see them as valuable in two ways. First, they’re pretty damn effective at widening your blog’s audience. Especially if you’re just starting out on your blogging/platform building journey, this kind of networking is invaluable. Post a good entry to the blogfest, and you can watch that little Friend Connect Widget expand quite dramatically. This, writer-friends, is awfully nice for us writer-types with glass-fragile self-esteem. They like me, they really like me! *sob*

Second, blogfests offer a chance for you to stretch into genres of writing you’d never have tried otherwise. Since I started doing blogfestie stuff, I’ve written my first ever fight scene, my first ever YA effort, my first ever first person present tense narration from the point of view of a young girl (huh?), and my first ever story written from the POV of a blind woman (yeah, thanks, Laurel, for that one…). Seriously, I’ve expanded my repertoire a bit with all these challenges (with varying degrees of success, of course). Either way, stretching the ol’ writing muscles is one of those Very Good Things for aspiring authors.

So, having made the case for blogfests, here’s a few that are coming up in the next couple of weeks. I don’t know if I can do all of these, but I’d encourage you, dear readers, to give it a shot. You’ve got nothing to lose, and only experience and blog-followers to gain.

• Livia Blackburne’s Alternate Verson Blogfest, 4/1. Post a short snippet of your work, then a rewrite of it that completely changes the tone/genre/whatever of the piece. Think changing your YA romance into hard-boiled noir, or something.
• Kelly Lyman’s First Page Blogfest, 4/2. Post the first page of your WIP, or some of your writing, for everyone’s delectation and delight (and a teeny, tiny bit of self-promotion…).
• Anne Riley’s Murder Scene Blogfest, 4/10. This one’s self-explanatory. (Sometimes I worry about that gal. Should we stage an intervention?)
• Melissa Dean’s First Kiss Blogfest, 4/10. Melissa was inspired by my, uh, PG Love Scene Blogfest, apparently. This one’s considerably tamer, though. This is a Good Thing. :)
• Tara Fouts’s Bar Scene Blogfest, 4/11. This kind of thing is about perfect for me, methinks. My characters are always drinking anyway….
• Charity Bradford’s 50 Followers Baking Blogfest, 5/1. A scene where your MC bakes something (or attempts to bake something). I wonder how dark and twisted I can make this one. A retelling of Hansel and Gretel, gone horribly wrong? *cough*

Anyway, there you are. Blogfest away, writer-friends. See you there!

Critique Group Love

My critique group got their first look at the first three chapters of my novel last night. I’m counting it a minor success that none of the ladies slapped me directly in the face for making them read my angst-ridden opening. Yes. Definitely a plus.

Now, the group’s pretty eclectic, as far as writing preferences go. And rather female-dominated. For me, this is kind of a good thing, since a majority of avid readers is female, and if I can please my CPs, make them want to keep reading my work, then I feel I might have a shot at capturing the interest of at least some of the vast, faceless mass that is the reading public.

The other thing that was fun last night was that—more than once, mind you—Laurel would make one critique, and then another gal, whom we’ll just call “Kory” (she’s shy) would almost immediately dissent. It happened about three times, and amused me more each time. So where Laurel thought I needed hints of the Chapter 3 conflict right up front in Chapter 1, “Kory” said she didn’t think that was necessary at all. Both ladies, mind you, are excellent, close readers, so neither opinion was better—they were just different.

So the critiques I got last night were very good. There were things I needed to clarify in my opening chapter that are pretty essential for the reader to grasp right up front. Plus, I need to mitigate one particular character’s bitchiness shrewishness, so readers can have some sympathy for her at the outset. But I’m not doing any of those revisions right now. See, I want to get all the way through my first draft before I go back and revise heavily. I need to know where the hell these characters are going, and how they’ll get there, before I muck around with how they start out. It’s a process, right?

Tonight, then, it’s back to the grind. (After I do my taxes. Whee!) I’ll be diving back into the manuscript and trying to force my way through another chapter or two. Wish me luck, bloggie-friends. This story’s a beast. Plus, I need 5K this week or Mercedes’ll make me write haiku odes to Twilight or some such painful thing.

* * * * *

Oh, there’s one more thing before I go. Iwanted to mention a few contests going on in the blogosphere you might be interested in. Here’re the links. Go enter and stuff, huh?

Laurel’s Eleventy-One Followers Contest – Ends 4/4

Write a 700 word or less, dialogue-driven scene to win books and critiques/line-edits from Laurel. She’s good, folks. Really. You want her to line-edit your stuff. So enter.

Summer’s Does This Make Me an Author? Celebration – Ends 3/31

Just follow her blog, tweet, comment, and enter. Win tea, pens, flower seeds, and stuff.  Oh, and chocolate. Y’hear that, ladies? Chocolate. ;)

Tamara’s Super Followers Contest – Ends 4/3

Just follow and leave a comment for a gift certificate or critique. Extra prizes if she hits 150 followers during the contest. Tell ‘er I sent you, huh?

Anything I’m missing? Do let me know. I don’t mind pimping contests at all, folks. I’m easy like that. Yup.

Aaannnd I'm back.

Whoa. Taking an enforced internet break for a couple of weeks is an interesting experience. I think I got the shakes a few times. Is that normal?

Okay, it wasn’t a total break. I still checked e-mail and posted Facebook status updates. But I checked not one blog, and tweeted only a handful of times. I came back to 500-odd posts stacked up in Google Reader, pretty much all of which I’ve resigned myself to not reading.

The sad thing is that it wasn’t just an internet break. I didn’t get a whit of writing done while I was away. First, it was the annual industry conference, with the obligatory drinking networking. Then, a crushing deadline for work (brought on by epic procrastination and never-before-seen levels of ennui) had me working full-on from Friday through mid-morning on Monday, tweaking and editing reports for a major customer.

And then the family vacation, during which, like, the family wanted me to pay attention to them, and stuff. Thankfully, it was a fairly mellow family vacation, and the kids loved playing with their cousins, so cuteness abounded. Also, junk food abounded, so I may have gained some weight. I now look like Jabba the Hut, minus the tail. Or maybe that’s just how I feel. I need a purge….

Anyway, I’m back from journeying in the deep south, through dry counties and teetotalling relatives’ homes, and am ready to return to my hard-drinking, hard-writing, snark-filled lifestyle back here in more northerly climes.

So to celebrate my coming back from 70-degree, springtime sun to a 50-degree, late-winter rain, I’ve gone and guest-posted over at Michelle Davidson Argyle’s The Innocent Flower blog, on the subject of butterfly collecting. Wait. Uh… no. It’s about flash fiction. So go read it.

And in other news, Mercedes has kicked my ass a couple of weeks running in our #NovelChallenge. (For those of you who don’t know,  that’s a hashtag. It’s a Twitter thing. Don’t worry about it.) Her most recent consequence for me not making my weekly word count (what? I was on vacation!) is for me to write a sonnet singing her praises. Sheesh. Good thing I’m fluent in iambic pentameter.

But this means that I have to get off my ass and write more. And since I’m home, and itching to get back to the novel, there will be no more losses, do you hear me, Mercedes? No more! With that in mind, I leave you with a little Lacuna Coil to brighten your day. I’m talking to you, Merc…

The Blogfest Continues Apace...

Hey, folks. Just wanted to say a quick hi, and to tell you I'll be traveling for work the next few days, so I won't be able to surf through all the entries to the ol' Blogfest until maybe Wednesday. I tell you what, though, I've been wicked impressed with the talent I've seen from everyone who entered. Thanks so much to everyone who took this challenge on! It's been a blast reading the entries I've been able to get to so far.

Okay, I'm out. Be good while I'm away, okay? Don't do anything I wouldn't do....

PG Love Scene Blogfest: Arranged Marriage

Go ahead, all me a wimp. I don’t care. The fact is, I couldn’t see my way to writing a sex scene with younger characters unless I dropped back a few hundred years to a time when teenagers were expected to marry before their 15th birthday. And yes, I know MG is supposed to involve characters between 8 and 12 years old. I may have gone a bit higher than that with this scene. I’m fine with that.

But seriously, don’t ask me why I chose to write from a young girl’s point-of-view, ‘cause I can’t answer that. It’s just the story that came to me. It is what it is, and what it is may well not be MG, nor even PG, but I’m going with it, ‘cause it’s all I’ve got.

And once you’re done reading this little gem-o’-embarrassment, do swing by the Blogfest home page and follow the links in the Mr. Linky widget to read the other entries. I guarantee they’ll be interesting!

* * * * *

Father says it has to be this way, for the sake of the kingdom. I asked Mother if that was true, and she just told me it was a great honor for me to be chosen. I wish it felt more like an honor. I’d rather be at home again, with Nana and my sisters, instead of here in this castle that feels like it needs about sixty extra logs in the fireplaces.

This dress is silly too. I wish I’d been allowed to choose my own. The new maidservants told me it’s traditional to wear all this lace and chiffon, but I think it’s too much. I like the cotton dresses back home. I almost tripped over the train about ten times today.

At least I can finally take my hair down. They had it pulled back so tight it almost gave me a headache. It’s nice just to brush it while I wait. It’s easier to concentrate on brushing out the tangles.

The door opens behind me. I glance in the mirror, and there he is. I wish he was more handsome. I suppose he’s not ugly, just… nothing like I expected a prince to be. His nose is a little big, and he always looks like he’s frowning a bit. He does have nice eyes, though, and his hair’s cute tucked back behind his ears like that.

He clears his throat, and I finish one last brushstroke and put the brush down on the dresser. He walks over to stand behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I smile at him in the mirror. He offers a small grin in return. I do like it when he smiles.

I rise, and he takes my hand, leads me to the bed. We sit together on the edge. The mattress is softer than mine at home, and the bed is much bigger. The gauzy curtains hanging from the top rail tickle my shoulders. I wonder if his servants talked to him about what’s supposed to happen the way mine did. It doesn’t sound so bad, the way they said it.

He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. I turn my head, and he puts one hand to my cheek. His lips are soft and warm. I feel a little flutter in my belly.

His other hand is at my back, at the buttons lining the back of the dress, and I pull away and turn my back to him. He unbuttons the dress slowly, every now and then leaning in to kiss my neck. It makes me shiver when he does that. It seems like a long time before he reaches up and slips the dress off my shoulders. I stand and shrug out of the smooth fabric, push it over my hips and step out of it. The light cotton shift I’m wearing underneath isn’t enough to keep me warm—goosebumps raise on my arms, and I wrap them around myself as I come back to sit on the bed.

He’s taken off his robe and waistcoat, and his trousers, and now he’s sitting in just his long undershirt. He leans in to kiss me again. “You’re so pretty,” he says against my lips. I smile, and the flutter in my belly returns.

We lie back on the bed together, and he pushes the hair away from my forehead. I squirm my way backward until I’m in the middle of the bed, and he crawls until he’s leaning over me. His blue eyes are on me. He’s kind of handsome right now, actually. It’s almost cute the way he’s breathing fast through his nose. He pulls my shift up.

He kisses me again, and I gasp against his lips. I squeeze my eyes shut. It hurts a little. He raises up on his arms, takes a deep breath. I lie still, biting my lip. The maids said it might be like this, that it might hurt the first time.

He stops, and I open my eyes to see him looking at me. “Are you well?”

I nod and try to smile. He leans down to kiss me. If he’s not moving it doesn’t hurt as much, so I put my arms around his waist and hold him against me. “Wait,” I say.

I press my lips to his, breathe through my nose until the pain stops. I let my arms slide up his back. “All right.”

It still hurts when he’s moving, but it feels good too, a little. I press my teeth against my lip and stare at the carvings on the ceiling. I wonder if this means I’m going to have a baby.

I think I would like a baby.

* * * * *

So there we go. My attempt at a PG love scene. Did I succeed? I don’t know. I need someone who actually writes MG and knows the market to tell me that. If the answer’s a resounding “NO!” I won’t be surprised, but that’s okay.

I will say one last thing before I go, though, and that’s a huge “Thank you!” to everyone who signed up for this ‘fest. Anyone who’s willing to take on this kind of writing challenge is worthy of respect in my book. I applaud you all. You are, quite simply, fantastic.

Blogfest Reminder

I forgot about it too, all right? And now, since someone else brought it up on Twitter, I’ve had hosts of rather miffed @ replies from the Twitterverse taking me to task for not reminding people of the PG Love Scene Blogfest. So here you go. Reminder:

The blogfest is tomorrow. Go sign up if you want to enter. The rules are here.

Now I have to go finish my own entry for my own blogfest. *Sigh*

Nemeses...

This is a small and rather random update to let y'all know that my newly-minted literary nemesis, Sierra Godfrey, has posted a short interview with me on her blog here.

In WIP news, I've got four chapters of the novel drafted, and two more waiting in the wings for me to flesh them out. Progress, baby!

Okay, as you were. I'm off to vacation some more...

Made of win, baby!

Okay, so I’m still on blog vacation, but I have a few small announcements.

First, ‘cause I’m a junkie for it, apparently, and can’t pass up a flash fiction challenge, I entered a contest over at Karen’s Fiction for Dessert blog. We had to write a flash fiction piece of 300 words or less, using the words glockenspiel, purple, and trees. Glockenspiel? Yes, glockenspiel. You can see why I needed to do this.

Well, I won the contest, and my little story was posted today on Karen’s blog. Go take a look, will ya?

Second, I wanted to say a big thank you to Allison over at Borrowing Heaven, Subletting Hell. She recently sold three books at auction, and since my current work-in-progress has a writer character who’s about to break out, I asked if she’d be willing to share her story with me—research, y’know. She was more than happy to, and seriously, folks… it’s a pretty awesome story. We should all be so fortunate (and talented).

Thanks so much for your time, Allison! And those of you who don’t know her yet, go visit. She’s snarky, doesn’t put up with BS, and takes her writing seriously. These are all things I like.

Third, I… wait, do I have a third? Huh. Not sure if I do. Other than that the Oscars bored me nearly to tears last night. And why is George Clooney so humorless? I mean, he’s an actor. Why can’t he act like he’s enjoying himself?

I think that’s all. Have a good week, folks!

See what happens when I go away?

Now, I know I’m supposed to be on blog vacation and all, and I still am, for all intents and purposes. It’s just that stuff keeps on occurring, even with my nominal blogospheric participation. Teh internets is a harsh taskmistress. (Yes, that sentence is incorrect in a couple of ways. No, I don’t care.)

Anyway, just as I’m stepping away from blogging for a bit, to focus on my dark, gritty, discomfiting novel (of which I have now written 5,700 words, thanks), who should crop up but everyone’s favorite femme fatale, Mercedes. See, she’s writing a book too—more in the memoir vein—and decided that raising the stakes for both of us might help light a fire under our figurative backsides, getting us both to the finish line that much faster.

So now Mercedes and I are going head to head with our books—I have to buck up and crank out 5,000 new words a week on mine, and she has to finish a chapter a week on hers (it’s memoir, so word count isn’t as important). The consequences of failure are yet to be determined, but I shall not fail, since a lady who’ll go to a violent crimes evidence exhibit is clearly not one to be trifled with. Not sure what’ll happen if she fails, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something appropriately humiliating with which to punish motivate her.

In other news, I apparently have a nemesis now. It was over in Carrie’s comment section, following a post where she revealed that she is engaged to The Rejectionist, is having a torrid affair with Sierra Godfrey, and has acquired a nemesis in Sean Ferrell (that’s a lot of confessions for one post). I, of course, realized I was lacking a nemesis, and said so, at which point Ms. Godfrey decided she was up to the challenge. Now, she did this, I’m sure, without checking my blog archives, since if she’d known what an incredibly strange and twisted mind I have, she’d never have signed on for this. However, she’s had the audacity to call me out on her own blog, and on Twitter already, so… it’s on, baby!

You want a nemesis, honey? You got one. I will break you, you understand. The smack talking is merely the tip of the iceberg. The evil machinations of my evil league of evildoers (not to be confused with the Evil League of Evil—they’re different) will be your undoing, good lady (and I’m using the word “good” in a totally ironic sense, here, in case you didn’t catch that). It’s almost enough for me to pity you, m’dear. I mean, you write women’s fiction! My heart, were it less frozen and stony, would bleed for you. But it’s comet-cold and titanium-hard, so you’re S-O-L. Sorry.

And in a last, nice little bit of news, Roxy of a woman’s write passed on the Quillfeather award to me. This is nice, ‘cause I was thinking, right before my vacation, that I didn’t have enough awards. ;)

In all seriousness, thanks, Roxy, for passing this on to me. I’m honored to be in such auspicious company. Plus, since I’m maybe only a third or fourth generation inheritor of this award, I’ll consider myself in the vanguard of recipients. (‘Course, Carol got it first, like she does with every award. I’m starting to get a complex about it.)

Right. Now I’m off to return to my regularly-scheduled blog vacation. I wonder what else will happen while I’m not around?

Peace. Out.

Okay, there seems to be some sort of blogospheric conspiracy here. ‘Cause I keep trying to take a blog vacation, and people keep running cool contests and giving me awards and stuff. Seriously, folks... you’re making it awfully hard on me, y’know!

I’m nothing if not persistent, though, so I’ll soldier on and get to my leave of absence today. Today, I tell you. Don’t tempt me, blogosphere, you vixen, you!

Before I go, though, let me give a shout-out to Sara over at The Babbling Flow of a Fledgling Scribbler, who’s hosting an awesome March Madness Contest. No, really, it’s very cool! She’s giving away a bunch of books, and I want the Writers’ Digest ones. If you don’t follow her yet (do I know anyone who doesn’t?), go do that, and tell her I sent you so I win stuff, okay? Okay.

Next up is Anne Riley, who very kindly (*cough*) passed on to me the uber-manly Butterfly Award. Yeah. She tried to pay someone to give me the Sugar Doll award, but that didn’t pan out, so she took matters into her own hands, I guess. Er... thanks, Anne? Well, she did say that she thinks my blog is cool, so I’ll let her off the hook. I think. I’m supposed to pass this on, but rules were made to be broken, and all, so I’ll break this one. Just bounce around the people I usually link to or something. You’ll find some cool stuff.

Right. So now I’m really, kind of, perhaps, maybe, almost totally, nearly completely ready to take a blog vacation. Sort of. I need one. I ain’t gotten jack done on my novel for a couple of weeks. I gave myself a bye last week, but it’s time to buckle down and get some friggin’ chapters written. My CPs are anxiously awaiting the next installment of The Great American Novel Written By A Scotsman. Well, maybe not anxiously, but I might receive a virtual smack upside the head, and those are never fun.

Like Carol, though, I’ll still be hanging around a bit. I’ll just be posting less often, saving up scintillating insights for a once-a-week edutainment posts... something like that. And that 200 followers mark? Just so you know, I ain’t hosting a contest until 250 followers. I need some breathing room, folks! Seriously!

Now I’m away. Be good while I’m gone, okay? No wild parties. I’ll feel left out if you have one in my absence...