by Sarah | May 3, 2012 | Books, Changing Tracks, Writing
I was made aware of this competition through some friends. My novel is complete, and with a gentle (or not) shove from them I decided to give it a try. I was thrilled to make their narrow signup window and get my piece into the fray.
Changing Tracks has been a labor of love – and I’m very proud of this book and what it has become.
This contest is a wonderful chance for writers, so please make sure you click that picture over there and go visit some of the other talented people in this competition!
Many thanks to those running this amazing contest: Cupid, Monica, Brenda, and Krista.
Now, without further ado, my submission to the Cupid’s Literary Writer’s Voice post.
My novel is a 94k Historical Western Romance called Changing Tracks. It’s set in the Colorado Territory, 1871.
*~*~*~*
The Query:
There is nothing simple about forgetting your past.
Cole Mitchell runs the busiest saloon and brothel in DominionFalls. He makes time with his women, makes a killing gambling, and exerts his power how he pleases. One thing he never does is let anyone in.
Until the day she falls into his saloon bleeding and near death. He saves her from the pine box, and finds he can’t walk away. The problem is, if he lets her get close he could relive his past – and he worked too hard to forget it.
She wakes with no memory, only the firm belief that someone wanted her dead. With no name she keeps ‘Jane Doe’ and tries to carve out a life. She finds herself drawn to Cole, and they start a fiery relationship that sets the whole town talking. Their pasts – her lack of, and his buried – keep them from admitting the depth of their feelings, but they find they only trust each other.
Through the chaos of renegade Indian raids, an abandoned husband and her recurring nightmares they fight to find the truth of what happened to her. She soon learns that sometimes the truth is the last thing you want to learn, and she starts to think it may be best to leave the past where it is.
That past isn’t that willing to let go. A stranger proves that he’s willing to kill to keep his secrets safe. If Jane doesn’t remember soon, everyone she loves will be in danger.
*~*~*~*
First 250 Words of the Manuscript:
Drip. Drop. Drip.
A drop of scarlet hung from the ragged ridge of flesh. White bone poked out, muscle red and oozing around it. The red drip shivered before falling in slow motion into the growing pool of crimson.
White snow cradled the hand like a pillow in the middle of the tracks. Bile rose in her throat, threatening to spill over when a finger twitched.
Her eyes remained glued to the sight, knowing if she looked up she’d see him – the rest of him. Murmurs around her started to sink in, saying she’d pushed him. In an instant time raced forward.
With a gulp she lifted her eyes to the mangled mass of man left over, his blank stare ripping her heart out through her gut. A cold sweat broke on her forehead and she unleashed a terrified scream.
Wrenched deep from her soul, pulling on seven years of horror, suffering, anger, regret, and intense fear – a scream unlike one she’d ever heard. She wanted them to worry, to fear, to take her away and hide her from the continuing evil. They could kill her and it would be less painful than this never ending torment.
The murder had been her undoing and she welcomed the end, letting her screams echo until her voice grew hoarse and not ceasing even then. The sharp sting of a syringe followed by the burning heat of medicine is the only thing that brought silence. That ended the tortured scream.
by Sarah | May 2, 2012 | Shorts, Writing
[flickr id=”5980079990″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]I like words.
Lots and lots of words.
My first novel came out to about 200,000 words when all was said and done. I had to chop it in half to even query it. Granted, looking back now I cry big tears at the quality of the work, but quality isn’t the point here.
I really like words.
I like layers in my stories. Complications and layers that make writing anything less than 90k seem an impossible dream.
Want to paralyze me with fear?
Tell me I have to write a short story. No more than 5,000 words. I swear my hands are shaking at just the thought. Trying to narrow a story down to just that space. To tell what I need to tell in that tiny space?
Flash fiction? Sure, I can handle that. I just wrote 500 words of a totally creepy piece that I’m totally nuts about. It’s a scene, I can handle a scene.
A story in 5k? A full, well rounded story in 5k?
This fear has held me back for a long time.
So I am going to dive in. Not get my feet wet, but dive in. I have a few ideas of how to start, and the scariest part is that I think for once in my life I have to pre-plan the whole thing out. Free writing won’t cut it this time around. Free writing is my crutch, because no one is telling me I have to stop. So I don’t. EVER.
Wish me luck. I’m going in.
I’m going to learn to embrace, and even love, the short.
Even if it kills me.
What about you? What’s your biggest ‘eek’ zone in writing? Is it a genre? Or a story length?
by Sarah | May 1, 2012 | All About Erik, All About Kennedy, Random
[flickr id=”7082668411″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]This morning the littlest angel could not be pleased.
Food – rebuffed.
Clothes – put on only after being directly ordered.
Hair – brushed through crocodile tears streaming down the angelic cheeks.
Finally we pushed, what was wrong with our Kennedy? Did she not feel good? Could she be tired?
“No.” Kennedy sniffed. “I don’t want Daddy to leave.”
Leave? What of this leaving? Where is Daddy going?”
“I don’t want Daddy to go to work.” ~insert dramatic sobbing and flopping onto my lap.
The girl – she has found her love of Daddy. After a few years where she sometimes acted as if Daddy was crap and Mommy was all that…we have had a turn. Everything is for Daddy, ‘like’ Daddy…and can she sit with Daddy to watch TV. Or snuggle. Or…
Either way, she will have to learn – Daddy has to go to work, and she has to go to school.
Meanwhile I just sit to the side and smile. I knew this day would come, now I get to watch Daddy enjoy the affections for a while.
by Sarah | Apr 30, 2012 | All About Denver, All About Erik, All About Kennedy, All About Me, All About Molly, All of Us, Crap, Random, The Teenager
[flickr id=”5888961016″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]We have had birthday parties, track meets, doctor appointments and chaos the past few days. While I try to get my head on straight (and work on the blog redesign ~cough~) I’m going to have a little fun with some random subjects of note.
* Thank you for all of your well-wishes for Erik. The doctor appointment went really well. While he does have to go back next year for another endoscopy, the doctor isn’t overly concerned with the findings. As far as Erik’s continuing symptoms we are on a “Try a little of this…then try a little of that” program. We’re hoping to find something that works and eases his symptoms.
* Yesterday I finished the (final) self-edits on my novel ~insert cheering and mad boogie dancing on my part~. That means I will begin work on the site redesign pretty hard-core in the next couple of weeks. I plan on a new round of submissions and I want this site to shine by then. The first changes I make will be mostly cosmetic changes. After that I’ll be working on more functional changes, but they’ll happen once the feel of the site has been updated.
* Teaching a teenager accountability and empathy is HARD ~insert whining here~.
* My Kennedy has proven finally that she comes from the husbands blood line She may look just like me…but lately she has been obsessed with cleaning. That is SO not me.
* We had the girls family birthday party yesterday. They got so many cute clothes…I’m so jealous! My SIL and MIL got them a ton of new little outfits – and then both my Mom and SIL on my side got them clothes too. We have full closets and the girls cannot WAIT for the warm weather to come back so they can start wearing the skirts upon skirts that they got.
* Hubby bought an elliptical. I hate the elliptical…but having it sit in my little house, I actually use it because I feel crappy if it just takes up all that room for nothing. Between that and my continuing love/hate relationship w/ Jillian Michaels & her exercise DVD’s I may just start feeling good about myself again. Maybe.
* I swear, I will be talking about the Bloggy Boot Camp experience soon, after all it is a 45X45 item…but between my straight focus on my novel the past week & the fact that I’m still trying to process everything that went on that day, it’s been relegated to a “Very soon” post. Hopefully before the end of the week.
* I have a new job application sitting in my kitchen. It’s a job I’m certain I’ll be able to get (I’m super friendly w/ the managers at this place). It’s just a matter of “Can I” and “Should I”. This time I have to very carefully weigh all of the factors and not forget one like I did last year when I tried to work. I have some new factors to consider this time around, ones that may seal the deal.
*Speaking of jobs, I also have a chance at another possible opportunity. It’s something that I have to write up a proposal for and see where it goes. It would be helping out someone local and that really excites me. I just need to sit down and write…especially since that’s part of what I’ll be doing for her…writing. LOL.
* Did I mention that raising teenagers is HARD?? ~headdesk~
by Sarah | Apr 28, 2012 | Changing Tracks, General, Writing
[flickr id=”6367108607″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]I’m not schizophrenic, I’m a writer. ~Me.
A handful of years ago, before I started writing toward the goal of publication I took part in another form of creative endeavor. That’s how I met Jess, and how I got introduced (properly) to my muse. A group of us would sit around brainstorming, and one night one of us took it upon themselves to name all of our muses. I had to laugh at the muse she assigned me, Terpsichore. The muse of music and dance. Considering my previous life as a dancer/singer/theater person and the fact that I’d been in love with the musical Cats (where they mention Terpsichorian powers) – I thought it was perfect.
Since then Terps has been my (relatively) constant companion. When she’s not off getting drunk or high in Mexico, she’s presented me with some insane stories, and some awesome ones.
Along the way, a couple others have joined. The two ‘others’ are sort of shared between Jess and myself. As we often write together, they alternate who they wreak the most havoc with.
The older of the two is one we affectionately named Canada. Why? Because whenever the craziest crap went down in our stories we’d start singing “Blame Canada.”
The other is newer. Even more chaotic than Canada. And far more moody than every other muse. This one? This one appears to be a male and his name is simply “NoName.” Yes, you read that right. Never thought I’d see the day a man was moodier than a woman, but NoName pulls it off rather well.
In turns these creatures have inspired and terrorized me. Left me in tears and filled with joy. They are a part of me and speak to me as much as (if not more) than the characters they help me bring to life.
What about you? Have you named your muse? Do you have more than one?
