Dare to Dream

We have studs! No not the fun kind :P This shortly after busting through old sheetrock that had cured to the consistency of concrete. Don't let those home improvement shows fool you, it will not come down in a clean sheet!

In my pursuit of becoming a writer and the excuses that quickly followed, I decided what I REALLY needed was a dedicated space in which I could sequester myself and retreat into a world of my own creation. Mostly, it was a way to delay having to actually write. Now that it has finally started to take shape and I'm on pins and needles waiting for its completion.

When I first started this little room could have been part of the show "Hoarders." Piles of stuff accumulated over the years had found there way out into this tiny corner room in my garage. I kid you not to say if the door had not opened toward the outside, I would never had been able to open it at all. I literally looked into a mass of items as high as my shoulders (okay, I am only 5'4 but still).

It took me the better part of the next few months to sort through that mass of mess and I did find quite a few treasures among things that should have gone straight into the trash. I found catalogs from the 80s and a couple of picture from then too (anyone remember tall bangs and poodle perms *shudders*), needless to say, somethings are best left in the past.

I was so proud when I first laid eyes on that first little patch of concrete. I think that really spurred me on and kept me going. After I had managed to clear it completely out, I  tore down the impromptu bookcases that were attached to all four walls. Now don't get me wrong, I think bookcases are essential, but these took up so much room there wasn't enough room for anything else. I mean the room is barely 7ft by 8ft, so I am not kidding when I say it is more of a writing knook than anything, but it is away from the furbabies and a space that will be dedicated to writing and writing alone.

I do believe that one lesson I learned after losing my job last year was that when you decide to rely making your hobby a job, you must treat it as such. I seriously messed up by not scheduling actual writing hours and having a designated space which to do it in. Being one who is easily distracted, I have to be very diligent about keeping myself on schedule. I have to time myself when accessing social media or I tend to find myself sucked into the vacuumous void of the internet where time speeds by faster than one can blink.

So here I sit, counting down the days until I can reveal my writer's cave to the masses. I hope that it is everything that I envision it to be. I have been dreaming of it for so long now I'm not sure if that it will ever be real, but one can certainly hope.

Coming Soon 

I have planned to do a serial story here on this blog starting next week. It's a little paranormal story I've been toying with, so I am hoping y'all will enjoy it.

~Margie

Congratulations to Laura Andlauer, you've won the $25 Amazon gift card. Please email me at margie2092(at)yahoo(dot)com let me know if you want a physical card or email version and where you would like it sent.

A huge thanks to everyone for taking the time to stop by and leave a comment. I truly do appreciate it. Wishing all a wonderful weekend and remember, never stop believing in your dreams!

~Margie

The Long Road Back

"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; renewed shall be the blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king."

                                                                                                                      ~JRR Tolkien Lord of the Rings

It's been awhile since I have blogged or wrote anything for that matter. It isn't that I haven't had anything to say or that I didn't want to write. I simply was attacked by a bad case of the shoulds. Many of you know exactly what I'm talking about, I should clean the should, I should work out or at least jump on the treadmill for thirty minutes and most of all I should write or blog today. Like many with "authority issues", I instantly rebel against anything I should do and quickly succumb to another dreaded malady,  the Sparklies, which for those of you don't know, is when you are fascinated but whatever you aren't doing at the time.

Anyway, after a while I fell into the trap of thinking I couldn't write or maybe shouldn't write. I sat back and supported many wonderful authors, celebrated their latest releases and although I truly was happy for them (and still am) I was jealous. It is the plain and simple truth. I just couldn't understand how it was so easy for them. How the stories just seemed to flow from a unseen tap. Little did I understand at the time, that ALL authors struggle. Whether it is with self-doubt, plots, stories ideas, revisions, whatever, they all have their moments. We often don't see the downs or maybe they are there but we don't take them to heart, but they have them all the same. In the end, I had to be honest with myself, I just wasn't devoted to my craft. I had a million excuses/distractions, but the simple fact was I didn't write because I was afraid.

I was afraid I would never be the writer I want to be. I still struggle to capture the story I see in my mind. It wasn't until I had another bad workshop experience that I saw I had actually grown some as a writer over the past year. I won't name names by berating a workshop or  instructor but suffice it to say their instructing technique and my learning style were vastly different. This time instead of being thrown into a "I quit" or "I can't write funk" for weeks (months) I simply shrugged and realized we just didn't click. Now, for those of you that really know me, understand what a big accomplishment this was for me (LoL), but it truly was groundbreaking moment.

So, now I'm back; back to writing, back to being a supportive friend and contributor and hopefully back to entertaining you with my quirky sense of humor and often odd outlook on life. I will be posting ever Friday and hope that we can have some fun and make this adventure to publication an interesting journey. I will be trying on many different genres and posting excerpts for your pleasure and opinion.

Now let's see who read this whole post. I will give away a $25 Amazon gift card to one lucky person who leaves a comment. To be entered you must say what your favorite genre is (ie: mysteries, thrillers, chicklit, paranormal, erotica etc) before midnight on Thursday the 24th. The winner will be drawn at random and will be announced on May 25th.

Elven Dreams and Things

Last night I had this little story begin to nag at me. It all started with me looking out into the woods which were concealed in a thick fog. It almost appeared as though you could wander into another world if you were just brave enough to venture outside into that mystical misty veil.

So here is my work in progress, Elven Dreams. I hope you like it :)  ***note: it is still in it's roughest stages ***

Elven Dreams

My morning started like any other countless days. I woke up at six and went for my obligatory run through my neighborhood woods. What with the big four zero approaching; I, Madelyn Carver, was going to fight gravity and those extra pounds with every ounce of strength left. Some women are afraid to run through the forest, especially before the sun is really up. It isn’t for everyone, but I love nature and the rough terrain really kicks my ass. Not to mention by being surrounded by all that foliage your mind can really motivate you to run harder. Nothing quite like a strange noise to really make you pour on the speed or run that extra distance.

A mile into my five mile run, my mind clear, I was enjoying the crisp smell of the dew soaked earth mixed with the freshly blooming honeysuckles. This was the scent Glade and Yankee Candle tried so hard to capture, but failed. As I crested the hill, the terrain grew a bit tricky. Leaves covered the ground and the evening rain had made the ground soft and slick. This mixed with a steep incline made it a struggle to maintain my footing. Twice I had slipped and narrowly missed eating a mud muffin for breakfast.

The morning sun barely broke through the heavy canopy of trees. My mind harkened back to the fairytales of my childhood. The sound of my dear uncle’s voice whispered in my ear reminding  me of the stories of children who wandered into the woods alone. I could sense a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“If only it were true. I would love to meet an Elven prince or even a warrior. Sadly, I gave up on love long ago, both real and imaginary.” My words echoed through the trees and magnified my solitude.

I couldn’t help but sigh as I rounded the corner and lost my footing. This time there was no recovering. I careened down the hill at an ever quickening pace. My only thoughts were to dig my heels in to attempt to slow myself by down and use my hands to try to steer myself away from the trees. All it managed to do was to throw me end over end, in a nauseating tumble.  I squeezed my eyes shut in hoping to quell the sickening sensation coiled in my stomach.

The sudden and terrifying stumble ended as abruptly as it had begun. I slammed into something solid, but not as unforgiving as a tree.

“Goddess be blind,” a strange male voice uttered in the tone that meant it was a curse.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you. I…I fell down the—”

I turned to point to the hill, but the ground was as flat as a prairie. Confused, I spun back around to explain myself and was dumbstruck by what stood before me. I was in center of a beautiful little town, cottages and stores lined the road with strange flowers flanking both sides. There weren’t any cars or trucks, just horses. It was just like a fairytale village. I half expected to see foxes walking upright and holding conversations with a fellow badger.

“But…but this can’t be real.” Sputtering, I looked up and finally saw the man who had stopped me.

He stood six foot four, solidly built, the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Piercing eyes, the color of the Summer sky, sun-kissed tan skin, and hair so dark it had a bluish hue to it. My eyes were drawn to the tips of his ears that broke through his wind tousled hair…they were pointed.

~***~

Contest Week #2

  I hope you enjoyed this little excerpt of my latest work in progress. This week's giveaway is for five lucky winners. I am giving away your choice of any one of the following pieces of jewelry. As an added bonus the piece will then also be named after you too. To enter all you have to do is leave a comment. Winners will be announced on February 13th by 10pm est.

#1

 #2

  #3

  #4

  #5

  #6

  #7

  #8

          

The Lure of Romance

I’ll be the first to admit, I was one of those who turned their nose up at the whole genre of Romance. I believed that women, in particular, were setting themselves up for heartache by reading such "perfect romances"—that real life would never be able to compete. The idea that romance novels would create a standard that no man could possible achieve. I’m glad to admit that I was wrong. I made an assumption based on the few people I knew who read them. I thought it set up an environment that encouraged people to fall in love with love, and to hell with rationality or reason.

I’m pleased to say the genre of Romance is so much more than falling in love with your "perfect" soul mate. In today's world, you don't just have your "Happy Ever Afters," you also have "Happily For Nows." You can find stories filled with life lessons on learning to let go, how to forgive, second chances and most of important of all, learning to love yourself. Now that I’ve taken the plunge and started writing romance, it has really opened my eyes to the complexities of love, lust, and obsession.

I’ve learned that there is strength in being a hopeless romantic. To believe so strongly that love will win out above all else. The damsel isn't always helpless. The knight isn't always the one in the shining armor coming just in time to save the day. Sometimes, he is the one standing right next to you in line at the coffee shop. You know the one, he gives you a smile even when you're having a bad hair day and you forgot to put on mascara, but still he makes you feel beautiful.

 There’s poetry in the subtle movements found in a romance novel. The give and take is like a perfectly choreographed dance that, once completed, makes you want to stand up and cheer. That’s what I want to do, the kind of stories I want to write. The ones that heal the wounded and gives the embittered hope. I wish nothing more than to touch someone and make their world a better place. A world where Beauty is able to see past the Beast’s appearance, his gruffness, and discovers the man of her dreams. In romances love is forever, and all people have a perfect someone who never hurts them or leaves. What’s so awful about taking a walk in a world like this?


This week's giveaway is a $25 giftcard from Amazon.com. I will be giving away four gift cards on Sunday so all you have to do is answer the question by posting a comment and you may be one of four lucky winners to be chosen at random (thanks to random.org)


My question to you:


What do you love (or hate) about romances?



*Winners will be announce at 10 pm est on February 7th*

Come back each week for more chances to win :)


February 8th - February 14th (winners announced the 14th at 10pm est)
February 15th - February 21st (winners announced the 21st at 10pm est)
February 22nd - February 28th (winners announced the 28th at 10pm est)

Life After NaNo

     Well, the fury has finally come to an end. I completed NaNo a few days ago. ***Throws confetti and blows horn*** Now what? I still haven't finished my story. I am nowhere close to being able to call it a wrap. 

     A lot of it has to do with the way I write. I bounce from scene to scene in no particular order. It helps prevent me from getting bored. I have a loose rough outline to keep the characters from completely taking over, but for the most part, I let them run free.

     Some people complain about the time of year that NaNo takes place. I know the holidays are a tough time for most, but if you look at it in another way it just makes sense.

     This is the last part of the year. By having NaNo in November those that finish have a sense of accomplishment. The one year they managed to do an inconceivable amount of writing in an impossible span of time. Second, the stupor you often feel after completing it is akin to the state you feel after a good holiday meal. My third and final point is that you can put your manuscript away without too much guilt since you need to get ready for Christmas. After the hoopla of the holidays you will be able to look at your manuscript with fresh eyes and be able to polish it til it shines.

     I am in that numb creative stage. I can’t seem to do much of any real writing. My muse Tallulah tempts me with vivid scenes. The more I resist the more she shows me. Maybe if I ignore her long enough she will break down and do the writing for me. LOL. (Note : Tallulah says: Pffffffbt! and then gave me the finger.)  Oh well, a gal can dream.

     So now, I have six, count them, six projects that are in the wings, seven if you count my NaNo piece. Ah, the dangers we encounter after we open the floodgates.  Story ideas have never been a problem for me (Tallulah curtseys). My bane shall always be in the follow through and as much as I would love to blame Tallulah, I know the fault is all mine. For now, I will kick back and relax a bit until the urge to write becomes overwhelming.

     I want to thank all my friends who put up with my whining and complaining. I really don’t deserve to have such a supportive groups as y’all and y’all don’t deserve to have to listen to me b*tching all the time. I love y’all more than I can ever express.

     Happy Holidays to all! 

Muses and Other Sadistic B*tches

         My muse is named Tallulah Belle and she is every inch the Southern Belle. She is headstrong and extremely vocal. When she wants me to write something, she will not give me a minute’s peace until I at least sketch it out. I have to appease her or she will just not shut-up. She will flood my dreams with scenes from the story, often involving tasty snippets of some very hawt men. Let’s face it, the b*tch knows what I like and she know just what I need to get me hooked.

          I am in the middle of my second year participating in National Novel Writing Month, affectionately known as NaNo. I have a set story that I am desperate to finish. It has plagued me for months. I am finally making good headway with it, but Tallulah seems to have other plans. She waits until I start writing my story, then she will show me a scene and try to tempt me away. So far, she has shown me four distinctive stories. They vary genres from two YA stories (one mystery, one paranormal) both could easily go into series, one erotica, and one murder mystery.  I don’t believe she has stopped in her attempt to derail my progress.

          Now, I know this sounds like a bunch of hogwash. I will fully admit that before I started writing I would hear an author speak of their muse talking to them, working out their stories.  I would roll my eyes and think, “Boy, what a bunch of crap! If you don’t want to tell me where you get your ideas that’s fine, but seriously!” I have since fallen down the rabbit hole, stepped through the mirror, said goodbye to sanity and joined the league of muse-controlled writers.

          It is a love/hate relationship. She taunts and teases. She disappears when I need her most. She pouts and pitches a fight when I refuse to listen. Worst of all the b*tch has no sense of time. She will wait until I am almost asleep to think of a solution to a certain scene or come up with a plot that I’ve been struggling with for days.

          I will head to bed. Get all nice and comfy. My body starts to relax as the tensions of the day slowly leaves my body.

Tallulah:   Hey Mags. You asleep?

Me: Hmmm.

Tallulah:   Oh…Too bad, I was thinking and you know how you had the guy falling down the cave entrance. Well, I was thinking that maybe he should first ALMOST fall first. You know sort of builds the drama don’t ya think.

Me: *sigh* Tallulah, it is 1 am and I have to be up in 2 hours. Can this wait til morning.

Tallulah: Well excuse me, missy. I was just trying to help, but if you’re going to bite my head off then I’ll just shut up and leave you alone. It’s not like I don’t have other things to do. *huffs loudly**

Me: Thank you. *rolls over*

Tallulah:   I mean it’s not like I enjoy thinking of your dreck every minute. I mean seriously some of the things you expect me to fix! I would expect a little more gratitude from you, but I guess that is asking way too much.

Me:  At 1 am? Yes, it is way too much to expect. Now, if you’d wait until the morning I will be more than happy to hear your take. Seriously, are you trying to make me so sleep deprived that you can just take over and write the d*mn thing yourself?

Tallulah:   Hmmm, is that possible?

Me:  I was kidding. Now let me sleep…please.

Tallulah: Oh alright. Goodnight.

15 minutes elapses

Tallulah: Had enough sleep yet?

Me:  NO!

Tallulah:  You want to write. You want to write. You want to write.

Me: WTF?

Tallulah:  Trying to take over your body. I dunno, it seemed interesting and I thought I’d give it a try. It’s not like there is a manual you know.

Me: Who’s Emmanuel?

Tallulah:   *exasperated, she sighs* A manual. A book on how to—oh never mind, go back to sleep.

Me:  *snicker*

          I want to say, I don't always win these battles. Truth be told, she wins far more than I do and I hate to lose. The only thing that stops me from getting truly bitter is I know that by losing these battles with my muse, I actually win. It illustrates the old adage, "sometimes you have to lose the battle in order to win the war."

         I have come to enjoy my talks with my muse, even when she jumps from subject to subject like a rat on crack. It is always an exciting exchange full of endless possibilities. Life is good and my muse is chatty. To say that my relationship with my muse is complicated is an understatement. I will ride this wave as long as it last and be thankful for the inspiration, even if it means little sleeps and whispered voices at inopportune moments.  It is the price I pay for my creativity and I happen to think it’s worth it. J

         I'm blogging over a the Para posse blog tomorrow on what draws us to paranormal romance. Come by http://paraposse.blogspot.com/ and comment for your chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card.