tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23887334494566042442024-02-19T23:44:16.869-08:00Musings of a Mad WriterIn which a wannabe author ponders over the writing process with a spot of tea (or a shot of tequila).MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-29875876592851046712013-05-16T12:06:00.002-07:002013-05-16T12:06:14.811-07:00Well kidsIf anyone actually reads this blog... I am moving to <a href="http://a-mad-writer.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">tumblr</a>!<div>
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<strike>because I live there and it's easy to just keep it all together and procrastination man!</strike><div>
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MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-40647428139736874282013-01-16T17:46:00.001-08:002013-01-16T17:47:49.521-08:00Someone understands me!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I really don't think anyone understands how much this pleases me. (<a href="http://www.writerstears.com/?page_id=3" target="_blank">Writer's Tears</a>)MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-56214221582856618222013-01-02T15:15:00.001-08:002013-01-02T15:16:10.774-08:00Another New Year!You probably have some resolutions, right?<br />
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I bet you're probably thinking, "I'm going to send out that manuscript!" Which is awesome, you should do it! Do be careful though when submitting, though, because not all agents or publishers are the same.<br />
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Over on SFWA there is a really nifty article listing things to watch out for when it comes to possible scams, and also a list of questionable agencies. Definitely worth a read!<br />
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<a href="http://www.sfwa.org/for-authors/writer-beware/thumbs-down-agency/">http://www.sfwa.org/for-authors/writer-beware/thumbs-down-agency/</a><br />
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Good luck and may the muses be with you!!<br />
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<strike>P.S. I also resolve to actually update this blog.... maybe. </strike>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-10810732935022786962012-10-03T10:49:00.001-07:002012-10-03T10:51:02.480-07:00Your own worst enemyIt's an interesting thing how, in the end, we are our own worst enemies. Whether you be a writer, painter, singer, dancer, poet, or anything in-between. Actually, it doesn't really matter if you're an academic, an engineer, a student, or a housewife.<br />
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We are our worst critics, and the ones who hold ourselves to the highest standards -- often impossible standards.<br />
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Lately I have been struggling with a motivation killer: self-doubt.<br />
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I don't know where it came from, it just appeared one day and now it's slowly built up to be a giant monkey on my back. I was busy this summer, I think most people are that way, time seems to get eaten away with this thing or that, and work gets pushed aside. I've also dealt with some personal family issues, I mentioned it once before, but I'll mention it again here. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer this past July, and it has been a difficult thing, but we are trying to stay positive.<br />
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At the beginning of the year I spent several months searching and submitting queries to agents... and getting rejections -- as every writer since the beginning of time has gotten. I tried very hard not to let it get me down, because I just needed to believe in myself. Someone out there would like my work and say yes. It only takes one yes, after all.<br />
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I did get a good bite from one agent, requesting fifty pages. I got my hopes up, because I thought if someone would just read the manuscript, I would be in. But I got another rejection. I think normally I would've been able to brush it off, but it just came at the wrong time.<br />
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July had been a rocky month with all the things going on with my mother (who, I should explain, I am extremely close with), but I waited as patiently as I could for a response. The rejection finally came August 8th. August 8th was two days after my mother's first Chemo treatment and she was feeling particularly horrible (since that time things have gotten better with the dosage and the type of Chemo they use, so she has very few side effects now), and it was difficult to watch her go through that. It was also two days before August 10th.<br />
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August 10th is the anniversary of my father's death. He died very suddenly of a heart attack when I was only ten years old. It's been sixteen years since he died, and for the most part I've come to terms with it, but there are times when it still makes me extremely vulnerable. The first part of August is usually one of those times.<br />
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So between all of that, the rejection letter -- while very pleasant and over all positive -- was a hard blow. I took it far more personally than I should have, I'm certain. And since then that little bit of self-doubt has been gnawing away, growing stronger with each passing day.<br />
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I haven't been submitting queries, I haven't even been writing. I have many things I do that involve writing, some are rather geeky. But I have projects that are just for me, I have things for friends, I have an RPG, I have my book series (the first of which I am trying to get published now), and I have new projects. All of these things have been lacking, have been a struggle. Even this blog, which is just a collection of my thoughts. It's hard for me to put words to paper (or screen, but you get the idea).<br />
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It's hard for me to find the joy in writing because of this self-doubt. I dislike most everything I write lately and I wonder if I'm truly good enough. I am in the middle of a self-imposed writers block. It's not that I don't have the ideas or the time, it's that I wonder if it's worth it. If <i>I'm</i> worth it.<br />
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I've slowly been pulling myself out of this funk, of course the doubt remains, but I am trying to remind myself of the joy I find it writing. Not everything is meant to be perfect, not everything is meant for the eyes of others. Somethings are meant just for me, and it's okay for them to be silly or bad or nonsensical.<br />
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And I must keep reminding myself not to be my own worst enemy. Unfortunately this is something everyone struggles with, no matter what it's in relation to; career, school, or personal issues. I think artists might suffer more than others; we have to be critical enough so we can get better at our craft, but believe in ourselves enough to put our work out there. It's a very fine line, a bit like a tightrope, and if you stray too far to one side you fall. In a perfect world there is a net to catch you, and then you climb up and try to cross the tightrope again. I fell, now I need to climb.<br />
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I wish I could say I had some grand point to this entire thing, but I don't really. I guess I just hope, whoever you are reading this, that you will try to climb your own ladder. Climb it rung by rung, no matter how hard it is, and cross that tightrope to your dreams. No matter what they are. It might take a couple tries, a little practice, but you can do it. And so can I.<br />
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But before I start my climb though, maybe I'll but some bananas to appease that monkey on my back. Or maybe I'll just leave a trail toward a cliff and give it a good shove....MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-13568840904060413222012-08-08T14:02:00.000-07:002012-08-08T14:02:19.686-07:00Would ya look at thatSo yesterday I posted about an agent who had requested 50 pages and a full synopsis, and how I was hoping to hear back any day now.... well she emailed me this morning.<br />
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She declined to rep the book. Kind of bummed, but all in all it's okay... I will continue on!<br />
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Back to <a href="http://www.writers.net/" target="_blank">WritersNet</a>, <a href="http://www.publishersmarketplace.com/" target="_blank">Publishes Marketplace</a>, and <a href="http://www.agentquery.com/" target="_blank">Agent Query</a> I go...... tra la la!MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-77068964566660025942012-08-07T12:07:00.000-07:002012-08-07T12:07:45.970-07:00And sometimes life kicks you in the ass...So this is an update with more personal that professional things.<br />
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First on the professional front -- I got a request from an agent for the first fifty pages of my novel and a full synopsis. So that's good! They take 4-6 weeks for reply, I'm within the 6 week mark... and I am hopeful for a response of some kind soon. Maybe. Please?<br />
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On a personal note my writing has been completely lax, but I do have a couple reasons. Firstly, I am recovering from a horrible case of adult chickenpox -- which is truly as horrible as everyone claims it to be. It's taken me three weeks to feel human again. Secondly at the beginning of July my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, and she will be starting Chemo soon. I am extremely close with my mother, have been all my life, and this has been a huge blow.<br />
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The doctors are optimistic about the outcome with the Chemo, so that's good. Still it's scary and upsetting and has given me little time to focus on the getting published thing.<br />
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So that is the state of the Mad Writer.... I am assuming updates will be few and far between (as if they weren't already), but I have started a <a href="https://twitter.com/aMad_Writer" target="_blank">Twitter account</a> because I'm obviously insane.MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-20008211787932986232012-06-13T13:08:00.001-07:002012-06-13T13:10:27.347-07:00Long time no postSo I basically abandoned this thing because I hate all the changes in the blogger interface.... yes, I am petty. I never claimed to be otherwise. But I shall endeavor to suppress my qualms and post more.... because you all have been waiting for that, right? HA HA HA!!<br />
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In the meantime, let me use this post as way to pimp some things. Because I can! Yay!<br />
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First of all: <a href="http://www.writersrelief.com/" target="_blank">Writer's Relief</a>. It's a great blog with tons of helpful advice, you can also sign up with them to get help finding literary agents and publishers. Love this site.<br />
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The second thing is way less helpful, but just as cool!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK10hMG2ASJPYJhg5L9wxTEdUQSCVWLSb_YbZZ_wTw7nIdBmlTg5UhPi6JusQOx7sjPl9hVqa3e05XW8qJKcB7Y0c4fFIv4WnVjktusl2kMD0XEsmLaRVmDg_WxupKBenYie2j3FdGPfNe/s1600/book+passion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK10hMG2ASJPYJhg5L9wxTEdUQSCVWLSb_YbZZ_wTw7nIdBmlTg5UhPi6JusQOx7sjPl9hVqa3e05XW8qJKcB7Y0c4fFIv4WnVjktusl2kMD0XEsmLaRVmDg_WxupKBenYie2j3FdGPfNe/s320/book+passion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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That kids, is <a href="http://steidlville.com/books/1312-Paper-Passion.html" target="_blank">Paper Passion</a>! That's right, a perfume that smells like freshly printed paper. I have a great need for this thing.<br />
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Alright..... so.... that's it for now. I will hopefully see you soon!<br />
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Peace out!MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-82023346885290742282012-03-24T12:41:00.002-07:002012-03-24T12:41:19.885-07:00It's funny because it's true.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41mLpm0lhSDn2jEIM58xC8ItQdqwITKW185qjeVfRE3tpRibk_s3o1bXIG_DAN6HJnDzr3wIhL8BdV1J8JxKha16V8IkyJm3Ig7tFc1ykDyNgBJsnwNU1gpNubNmnKmjMSSgzZS1ZCT8u/s1600/writers+block.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41mLpm0lhSDn2jEIM58xC8ItQdqwITKW185qjeVfRE3tpRibk_s3o1bXIG_DAN6HJnDzr3wIhL8BdV1J8JxKha16V8IkyJm3Ig7tFc1ykDyNgBJsnwNU1gpNubNmnKmjMSSgzZS1ZCT8u/s1600/writers+block.jpg" /></a></div>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-6463426381758167902012-03-04T14:44:00.000-08:002012-03-04T14:44:17.390-08:00Sh** Writers Say.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/wUgSTM1Z2Dw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Pure brilliance!MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-72044328906414045352012-02-28T13:44:00.001-08:002012-02-28T13:44:27.805-08:00Here, have a pointless short story.<b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tomorrow - By Kate Ingram</b><br />
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He didn’t know why she was back so early, especially considering all of the time she had spent getting ready; all he knew was that he was glad she was.<br />
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She was wearing the quintessential little black dress: thin straps, exposed back, and a hem that fell just above her shapely knees. Her silky hair was swept up in an elegant twist, and her makeup was flawless.<br />
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He watched as she flitted around the apartment losing various bits of clothing; the strappy heels had been first, then the stockings. She had gone into the bathroom to dispose of her earrings and necklace, and judging by the hint of mint in the air, she had also brushed her teeth. <br />
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He continued to watch as she absently danced to the music flowing through the speakers and realized she was drunk. Now he really wanted to know why she was here and not with her ‘wonderful’ boyfriend. He had to call her name several times before she finally raised startled eyes to him. <br />
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“Why are you home? Shouldn’t you still be out?” <br />
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“I guess I should, but the dinner was winding down and he has an early day tomorrow. So I’m back here. You don’t mind do you?” she asked with teasing smile.<br />
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“Of course not, I’m always up for the company. But honestly, if you were my girl, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight. Especially looking like that.” He gave a slight waggle of his eyebrow for effect. Her only response was a giggle while she pulled the pins out of her hair, causing it to tumble softly down her back in waves. <br />
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“You really think I look nice? He never notices.” She twirled for effect.<br />
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“Of course you do. You always do.“ Came the honest reply. She sat down next to him on the couch and grabbed his drink off the coffee table and took a long sip. <br />
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“Mmm” she hummed while setting empty glass back down.<br />
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“Yeah, I would hope that’s good, it was the last of my Maker’s.” He gave her a sidelong glance. She blushed and gave a sheepish smile.<br />
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“Sorry, I’ll get you some more.”<br />
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“It’s okay, we still have some Jack. Want one?” he asked while rising from the couch. <br />
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“Sure,” she smiled. He nodded and made his way slowly to the kitchen; the same kitchen he had shared with her for a little over a year. <br />
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‘Amazing,’ he thought, while mixing up the drinks. He glanced out into the living room and watched as she bobbed her head to the music. ‘I’ve been pining after her for a year. One day I’ll have to tell her that I love her, maybe when she finally dumps that loser. He’s not good enough for her…. of course I’m not good enough for her either, but at least I would treat her right.’ <br />
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Shaking his head slightly, he picked up the glasses and walked back to the living room. Handing her the drink, he took up his spot next to her on the couch, and they sat in comfortable silence while the music played in the background.<br />
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“We broke up,” she blurted after a few moments. He turned to look at her, but she was staring straight ahead with her glass clutched protectively against her chest. He noticed her knuckles were white from the death grip.<br />
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“We had a huge fight, again. He said that he was tired of competing for my attentions; I told him that was a farce and that I was tired of competing with his damn job. Then I asked him what the hell he meant.” She paused and took a rather large gulp of her drink. <br />
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“And?”<br />
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“He said that it was growing more and more obvious that I wasn’t in love with him. If I ever was. He said that it was over and that I needed to realize my true feelings--” she stopped suddenly and took another drink.<br />
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“What did you say?” He couldn’t help but ask when it seemed obvious she wasn’t going to continue.<br />
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“I told him,” she turned to look at him fully, “that he is a selfish idiot, and I don’t know why I wasted six months of my life on him. Then I stormed out, caught a taxi and here I am.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand.<br />
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“Hmm. Sounds like an interesting evening. But what did he mean about your true feelings?” He was sure there was more to the story than what she was telling him, and he couldn’t help the little flame of hope burning inside his chest. <br />
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“Oh, I know exactly what he meant. And he was completely right; I love someone else, but I can’t do what he thinks I should do. It’s just that… life doesn’t always work out that way.” Sighing, she drained the rest of her glass and stood. <br />
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“I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave him a small smile, and headed toward the hall, but before she left the room completely she turned and gave him one last glance. <br />
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One slightly longing glance. Then she was gone.<br />
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He leaned back where he sat and gazed down the hallway she had disappeared.<br />
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“Does that mean.. that she…?” He drained his own glass and looked back down the hall. “Tomorrow, I’m telling her tomorrow.” He stood and wandered to his own room all the while planning a romantic breakfast in bed accompanied by even more romantic words.MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-40355848511586809142012-02-16T18:53:00.001-08:002012-02-16T18:55:28.373-08:00Seems legit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBB_NLu9_KnU9dziGShFHYHshymLfvrEpi7pguf86Y3orXopU3qkb86YJCA-LxCqo9Q6qovTRxFub5MRSeypnJMbOtUQzjXbbMpw9_HokwW5rWbeW_5vxkmf1a4fI3-TjKm3IEWRc51skd/s1600/writer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBB_NLu9_KnU9dziGShFHYHshymLfvrEpi7pguf86Y3orXopU3qkb86YJCA-LxCqo9Q6qovTRxFub5MRSeypnJMbOtUQzjXbbMpw9_HokwW5rWbeW_5vxkmf1a4fI3-TjKm3IEWRc51skd/s1600/writer.jpg" /></a></div>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-84787840518245754172012-02-09T11:28:00.000-08:002012-02-09T11:28:12.423-08:00I just want to live here....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://bibliojunkie.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/wien_nb_prunksaal_12.jpg" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KszTmawBz9Vn_WhJoJseu5QSyHEo8U4zvNfp8gfurRJdK2ArMo8C9cvRtILQbnnpe4401-uPIOxyHI4WQbXLuTFKQHUzLZailwcl5Yn0rE6pzQwa3UrtWxMQT-iK74jblqc5VnRd_LSG/s400/bookcase1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/13/Austrian_National_Library_-_State_Hall_-_Bookcase_LXV_-_July_2009.jpg" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiit_oP9tThQ0sx59TKOYxqClUFun5afFkvOxO7DVhQzCt5z68I2IzwCfBVcBxCv_zlcbV6essN4hHIUhbJTHxeRyS2J6PO5g5gttJGXFME_jCPCaMn2IptcWwViId-VVOTBpS7mBq6j0/s400/bookcase2.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">~ Austrian National Library</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> </span>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-78820825874233562682012-02-07T23:53:00.000-08:002012-02-07T23:53:52.947-08:00This will never stop being amazing!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4tV3XTaYa4v10RmQg905NHkzTAU_JE96sqQNQB4v3h-Lhtmy1Nxu4qel5c7QqqjaTejiztV3-psIqTs30NSBXyV9VueX4AoJnNY_PyUepMg-3WDrMUiJOj9Hd48IZnOUS9sK2RLEwsL8/s1600/butterflybook1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4tV3XTaYa4v10RmQg905NHkzTAU_JE96sqQNQB4v3h-Lhtmy1Nxu4qel5c7QqqjaTejiztV3-psIqTs30NSBXyV9VueX4AoJnNY_PyUepMg-3WDrMUiJOj9Hd48IZnOUS9sK2RLEwsL8/s400/butterflybook1.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLTaLMfjb1rsYf-xm_peTSWpMpsgwUtNuJ0NcO4qQrIOYPoFsVWPNe9mkfS2vOZnIJtIcmbJCEINb0wu8fG8CGobuukPKFEIQueMxMzByLd-ZnnBasj2LnfRQLJmKsI26Up_0LVJOeBWg1/s1600/butterflybook2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLTaLMfjb1rsYf-xm_peTSWpMpsgwUtNuJ0NcO4qQrIOYPoFsVWPNe9mkfS2vOZnIJtIcmbJCEINb0wu8fG8CGobuukPKFEIQueMxMzByLd-ZnnBasj2LnfRQLJmKsI26Up_0LVJOeBWg1/s400/butterflybook2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<blockquote>Artist David Kracov was commissioned to create an award to be given in honor of, and named for, the late director of Chabad’s Children of Chernobyl.<br />
Called the “Book Of Life,” it was inspired by the extraordinary life of Rabbi Yossi Raichik, a man who saved thousands of children’s lives from the devastating effects of the Chernobyl disaster. The metal sculpture has pages filled with words from those he touched, and also features a flurry of butterflies, each representing the 2,547 children he helped save and give new lives.</blockquote><blockquote><a href="http://www.davidkracov.com/special-projects/77-special-project-1.html" style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" target="_blank" title="David Kracov"><span style="color: black;"><br style="margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;" /></span></a><em style="outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;">The Book of Life</em>, by <a href="http://www.davidkracov.com/special-projects/77-special-project-1.html" target="_blank">David Kracov.</a></blockquote>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-26790575199947644202012-02-06T11:49:00.000-08:002012-02-06T11:49:41.620-08:00Not deadReally, I'm not.<br />
<br />
Nor was I abducted by aliens (although that would make an<i> interesting</i> story, I'm sure). Nor am I currently hiding underground from the Russian Mafia or the Yukuza.<br />
<br />
I just suck.<br />
<br />
I was in a funk, a big funk. A non-writing funk.... I am only slowly coming out of it now. And my soul was eaten by a video game. Sad, I know. But it really puts things into perspective when you play a video game (an RP by the name of Dragon Age: Origins) and realize that the characters and their stories and backgrounds are better written and more thought out than a lot of novels you've read.<br />
<br />
Really, I love this game more than I can say. It's a sick, sick obsession.<br />
<br />
But it was helpful for the funk... to be able to escape.<br />
<br />
So yes. Not dead.<br />
<br />
Just incredibly lazy and antisocial and uninspired and feeling totally meh.<br />
<br />
I <i>hope </i>to get back on track now... write... submit... update... write... read... write. Did I mention write?MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-8928797579700550912012-01-21T11:08:00.000-08:002012-01-21T11:08:50.577-08:00I want this library for my own:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfUFCHc9UBVsm_EB8jdv6FEjkKnY97lR0m0VJ59vbqRCdW4Jm5oDTVu0NQDWfkFzBjD4sqHc7pBa7LiOgVok9kwQMAjLgalo8TdFgZReGIfTG-TZmgqq-NsXgzrGKmCrRj92TflqMkp42/s1600/library.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfUFCHc9UBVsm_EB8jdv6FEjkKnY97lR0m0VJ59vbqRCdW4Jm5oDTVu0NQDWfkFzBjD4sqHc7pBa7LiOgVok9kwQMAjLgalo8TdFgZReGIfTG-TZmgqq-NsXgzrGKmCrRj92TflqMkp42/s640/library.jpg" width="536" /></a></div>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-64360853981647603852012-01-18T12:33:00.001-08:002012-08-09T09:37:52.491-07:00What d’ya write?I write… things…. stories. Yeah, stories.<br />
<br />
My major project, the thing I am shopping now, is what I like to call “Book 1”-- the <i>real</i> title for now is A Highlander‘s Duty, but I prefer to call it Book 1--because there will be more, a series.<br />
<br />
A series I like to call “The MacLeod Chronicles”. Sounds interesting, yeah? <br />
<br />
Not really? Damn.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
It’s a historical fiction that’s part romance, part adventure (with a dash of comedy, because really life is full of comedy if you look for it!) following clan MacLeod (gee, you don’t say?). Different people from different generations. It’s all good fun!<br />
<br />
As for Book 1 you gots the MacLeods who’ve had this feud with the MacDonalds for a really long time. When this story starts, the Lairds of the clans say NO MORE! And what better way to end a bitter feud in 1680s Scotland? Why marriage, of course! (for the record my Query Letter looks nothing like this…. not sure if that’s good or bad?)<br />
<br />
From the MacLeods three young men are chosen (yes, three, because I like characters--I’m all about character and dialogue because that’s what I like to read, and they say write what you know, right? Well, that’s what I know);<br />
<br />
The Steadfast Champion of the Laird, who quietly agrees to do his Laird’s bidding.<br />
The impetuous young swordsman for whom the wedding is a punishment.<br />
And the Laird’s son, who is quite taken aback and not overly pleased with his father planning his future without his knowledge.<br />
<br />
Upon arriving on MacDonald land to meet their lovely chosen brides, things quickly deviate from the plan.<br />
<br />
For Mr. Champion he thinks his would-be bride is lovely, but he’s totally gaga over this serving maid he just met; who is beautiful and charming and--shite--not part of his plan!<br />
<br />
For Mr. Swordsman, his wifey-pooh is just the most amazing thing he could ever image, unfortunately she’s utterly terrified of him and won’t let him touch her. Oops.<br />
<br />
And for Mr. Future Laird, well, his fiancée (who is the daughter of the MacDonald’s chieftain) isn’t all that great; she’s kinda spoiled and self-centered, but man-oh-man Mr. Champion’s would-be bride is just the cat’s pajamas!<br />
<br />
So there’s, like, a love… shape. It’s not a triangle; it’s more like a bunch of squiggly lines running to and from each other. Some are solid and some are dots. Okay, perhaps this analogy is crap.<br />
<br />
Let’s try again.<br />
<br />
There are problems. Lots and lots of problems. Because Mr. Champion will do his duty, and he will force Mr. Future Laird to do his duty, too. Because it‘s for the good of the clan! Orders are law! Even if it breaks your heart in the process. And, you know, there’s like a war (ooh action!) that disrupts things even further and a conniving clansman who wants to ruin things for his personal gain...... <br />
<br />
<br />
So that’s what I write. In a giant confusing nutshell that I’m sure makes you want to read it, like, RIGHT NOW! Because I am full of awesome and win with my flowing, in depth descriptions, and captivating way of holding your attention.<br />
<br />
*cough*<br />
<br />
*quietly crawls back into hole with a giant chocolate bar*MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-25556503934763741592012-01-16T00:03:00.000-08:002012-01-16T00:03:31.611-08:00Ode To A Spell ChekerNot mine, but it amuses me greatly. I sadly do not know who wrote it, but here's to you, anonymous person! *clink*<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have a spelling checker - </div><div style="text-align: center;">It came with my new pea sea. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It plane lee marks four my revue </div><div style="text-align: center;">Miss steaks aye can knot sea. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Eye ran this poem threw it, </div><div style="text-align: center;">Your sure reel glad two no. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Its vary polished in it's weigh, </div><div style="text-align: center;">My checker tolled me sew. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">A checker is a bless sing, </div><div style="text-align: center;">It freeze yew lodes of thyme. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It helps me right awl stiles two reed, </div><div style="text-align: center;">And aides me when aye rime. </div><div style="text-align: center;">To rite with care is quite a feet </div><div style="text-align: center;">Of witch won should be proud. </div><div style="text-align: center;">And wee mussed dew the best wee can, </div><div style="text-align: center;">Sew flaws are knot aloud. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And now bee cause my spelling </div><div style="text-align: center;">Is checked with such grate flare, </div><div style="text-align: center;">Their are know faults with in my cite, </div><div style="text-align: center;">Of nun eye am a wear. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Each frays come posed up on my screen,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Eye trussed to bee a joule.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The checker poured o'er every word, </div><div style="text-align: center;">To cheque sum spelling rule. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That's why aye brake in two averse </div><div style="text-align: center;">By righting wants too pleas. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Sow now ewe sea why aye dew prays </div><div style="text-align: center;">Such soft wear for pea seas.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-44844381048250980012012-01-14T11:41:00.000-08:002012-01-14T11:41:15.388-08:00I adore this poster<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.demotivation.us/books-1247061.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/393845_275913479135514_138763606183836_794909_322230362_n.jpg" width="405" /></a></div>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-35856813538413122592012-01-13T16:37:00.001-08:002012-01-30T10:32:00.113-08:00So I hear you like jokes about writers....<div>A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"Oh my," said the writer. "Let me see heaven now."</div><div><br />
</div><div>A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"Wait a minute," said the writer. "This is just as bad as hell!"</div><div><br />
</div><div>"Oh no, it's not," replied an unseen voice. "Here, your work gets published."</div>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-73591805082760582572012-01-13T13:51:00.000-08:002012-01-13T13:51:19.428-08:00Shit Writers SayI'm seriously contemplating getting a Twitter account (actually I should probably get one for several reasons but we won't delve into those) just so I can follow <a href="http://twitter.com/ShitWritersSay" target="_blank">ShitWritersSay</a><br />
<br />
There's also a <a href="http://shitwriterssay.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Tumblr Account</a><br />
<br />
It is all so true, and so hilarious.MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-43601538004401009172012-01-11T21:05:00.000-08:002012-01-11T21:05:42.287-08:00Simple things that make me happy...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><u><b><a href="http://youtu.be/SKVcQnyEIT8" target="_blank">The Joy of Books </a></b></u></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='640' height='360' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/SKVcQnyEIT8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-61974535770914701272012-01-11T12:21:00.000-08:002012-01-11T12:21:25.723-08:00Wednesday, Wednesday... so good to me!It's update Wednesday! YAY! Only problem is I have no update planned. Oops.<br />
<br />
When I started this thing I had blog posts planned out and partially written, but I blew through those like a gambling addict blows through spare cash in Vegas. At least I have been doing some productive things instead of spending hours upgrading and redecorating my Sims' house (which I haven't done... why do you ask? Okay, maybe I have. But I have a problem, man! Don't judge me!), I did finish out the MS and I have submitted a few Queries (now excuse me while I go breathe heavily into a paper bag).<br />
<br />
So, there's that.<br />
<br />
Also there's been real life stuff... you know that pesky thing that interferes with the writing and the plotting and the playing of computer games. The thing that requires human interaction and stuff.<br />
<br />
Yeah, that thing.<br />
<br />
Even my secondary blog, <a href="http://scottish-love.blogspot.com/">Scottish Love</a>, has been suffering. I'm a horrible, horrible blogger.<br />
<br />
I resolve to have more interesting blog updates (hopefully news about those submissions). I also resolve to post pertinent things.<br />
<br />
Oooh the pressure! Oooh the humanity!MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-70671443115837476262012-01-06T14:34:00.001-08:002012-08-09T09:37:20.077-07:00Flash Fiction FridayWhat madness is this?<br />
<br />
Right, so I <strike>stalk</strike> follow Chuck Wendig's blog <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/">TerribleMinds </a>(which is awesome and everyone should read it) and he does a <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2012/01/06/flash-fiction-challenge-song-shuffle-stories/">Flash Fiction Friday</a>; this weeks theme was a song shuffle. So I decided to play along! Ain't that grand?<br />
<br />
Song/Title: Champagne Supernova<br />
Word count: 500 (or so Gdocs word count tells me)<br />
Rating: PG<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
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Bubbles steadily rising, bursting and popping almost in time with the cheesy music flowing through the speakers.<br />
<br />
New Year’s Eve and all is well, he thinks as he glances to the clock: 11:45pm.<br />
<br />
He takes a swig from his glass; the golden effervescent contents tickling his lip as the sticky, almost but not quite sweet, liquid runs down his throat. He feels nearly giddy as he drains the glass, and wonders if that had to do with the alcohol or the night. A waiter passes by and he quickly exchanges his empty flute for a full one.<br />
<br />
She passes him by, hair sleekly done up in some complicated do that he doesn’t really like that much because he thinks her hair is better down, all flowing and soft. Although with her hair up it exposes her backless dress, and his eyes wonder over the smooth expanse; drinking her up like a man dying of thirst. He wants to talk to her, make witty banter and impress her with his shining intellect--but he won’t, knowing he’d most likely make an idiot of himself like he has in times past.<br />
<br />
The clock is counting down now, people are starting to come in from outside waiting for the ball to drop. He sees her in the crowd, coming toward him and watches, stunned, as she stops next to his side.<br />
<br />
“Hi,” she smiles.<br />
<br />
“Hello.” He inclines his head and tips his champagne flute toward her.<br />
<br />
They lapse into silence as people start shouting out the countdown; 10, 9, 8, 7.…<br />
<br />
At the count of six she turns to him slightly and smiles a little wider, her eyes locking with his. He stands, frozen, the roar of the people around them dulled to a muted buzz as blood pumps in his ears and his heart races.<br />
<br />
3, 2, 1--HAPPY NEW YEAR!<br />
<br />
She leans up and brashly plants her mouth against his. His head is swimming and the world seems to tilt, but her lips are soft and she tastes faintly of mint and chocolate--the truffles they’ve been passing around the party all night.<br />
<br />
After a moment, as the giddy people around them start the first straining chorus of Auld Lang Syne, she pulls back. Her lipstick is smeared slightly, but her eyes are glowing.<br />
<br />
“Happy New Year,” she whispers and turns, melting back into the throng of people.<br />
<br />
He blinks once, twice and then drains his glass again. Setting it down he finds another waiter passing by--this time with squat glasses full of amber liquid instead of bubbly gold. He gratefully takes one; relishing the burn of the Scotch as he takes a gulp.<br />
<br />
He can see her now, on the other side of the room, laughing with friends and make up perfectly polished again. She giggles at her friend, but stops and stands a little straighter. Glancing toward him she gives him a wink, but her attention is called away by her friends. He toasts her anyway.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year, indeed.<br />
<div><br />
</div>MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-83129096312417757792012-01-05T11:14:00.000-08:002012-01-05T11:14:04.093-08:00New Year's ResolutionsOkay, so I'm a day late and a dollar short -- I had in mind to update this blog every Wednesday, but that didn't happen. I'm also going to be posting about a subject that's a little behind the times, but in my defense I've been working on finishing my manuscript, but that's done now... so score!<br />
<br />
Anyhoo, New Year's Resolutions.<br />
<br />
There have been many posts about this floating around and some very ingenious ones at that. I, sadly, am not ingenious, so I'll just fake our way through, if that's alright with you?<br />
<br />
First of all I should say, I never make resolutions, ever. So actually saying this a big step for me, but mostly it's something I've been pondering for a while now, so it's just a matter of finally getting into gear.<br />
<br />
Now my New Year's Resolution is quite simple: Put myself out there--which is an important thing for any would-be author.<br />
<br />
That's part of the reason for this blog (the other part is kind of as a log of sorts for my own wandering mind), and stalking all sorts of amazing blogs and websites.<br />
<br />
Also part of that is actually doing the whole submitting thing, which is scary as f***. You're sending off what you hope is a well thought out query letter that will successfully sell yourself and your precious novel.<br />
<br />
But there are a couple things to keep in mind (or least this is what I tell myself); 1) rejection is a way of life, it does not mean failure. 2) just because one person doesn't like it doesn't mean it's crap (although this is a possibility--we're <u><b>not</b></u> going there!). 3) Okay, there really isn't a number three. Um something about drowning sorrow in chocolate cake and white russians, perhaps?<br />
<br />
I'm biting the bullet, basically. I spent most of last winter gearing up for this, polishing the MS, rewriting, researching... now to take the plunge. It's scary, but I think starting anything new should be a little scary, exhilarating. It was scary to actually start writing a novel, it was scary to decide this is what I want to do with my life.<br />
<br />
Other things in life are plenty scary, too. Like buying a house or getting married or bungee jumping. All scary, but all with a little thrill. So I'm going to focus on the thrill and ignore the scary and hope for the best.<br />
<br />
Now, what are your resolutions?MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2388733449456604244.post-68480415934302880392012-01-02T11:30:00.000-08:002012-01-02T12:17:46.191-08:00Don't you just hate it...Don't you just hate it when you get struck with a brilliant idea for a children's book with fairies so you sit down to write out the idea, only to realize you need to name the main fairy.<br />
<br />
You figure you want something botanical, but Buttercup is sooooooooo overused. So you start researching for plant names, maybe looking up their meanings and symbolism and trying to figure if the fairy should have any of those qualities, only to then realize you've just spent two hours scouring the internet with no results and the original idea is slowly starting to fade--it's more like a dying firefly blinking in and out rather than a blazing sun blinding you--and you need to start writing or it will be lost forever, so you close all your tabs, open your word program of choice and start putting down words... all the while calling the main fairy Buttercup; because, hey, it's a cute name, right?<br />
<br />
Yeah, me too.MadWriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10306988788620075454noreply@blogger.com0