Saturday, May 15, 2010

Fast writing

My brain has been working way too fast to match up with my speed typing. It feels like my mind is already telling me the middle of the story and yet my fingers are still typing the beginning of it. So I decided to try the good old fashioned way of writing—using a pen and paper. I use shorthand. I scribble the ideas and main points. Things that are important or what the chapter is about and keep on going. Before I knew it, I actually finished a draft. Of course, when I start transferring it on Word, I’ll end up changing or adding stuff to it. But the fact is, I finished my draft.

I remember doing this years ago when I wrote my story, My Own Knight, which Red Rose Publishing published as Wicked Knight: Knight Brothers Series. I wrote this story in my composition notebook that I carried with me most of the time. It worked and, yes, it worked again. Both times I accomplished the hardest part of writing (in my opinion) a story—finishing a draft.

I don’t know how many of you are still doing this, but it got me to thinking. I should do this with my all of my unfinished drafts. Not only does it give me a sense of accomplishment, it’s also a good reason to stay off the internet. At least for a while. : ) See, I blame the internet for my slow progress. Each time I sit down to write, that big  blue E beckons me to click it. And if you’re an internet surfer like me, you know how fast you can lose your self in that big wide world of Internet.

So now that my draft is finished, I feel inspired and have a renewed interest in getting it out to my publisher before the end of June. A new goal! Yey!

By the way, I received an awesome review from Dark Diva Reviews that made me sit back and think. Could this be the sign that I am ready to try a bigger publisher? Here is the link to the review.

 http://ddrreviews.blogspot.com/2010/05/passionate-bid-by-tierney-omalley.html

Capture Rated 5 Delightful Divas and a Recommended Read----“Ms. O’Malley’s masterpiece, Passionate Bid, is absolutely freaking fantastic.”—AJ, Dark Diva Reviews

 

Tierney

 

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Postcard Competition

Time for a competition! I have racked my brains and come up with something I think you may all like. Okay, here's the deal...Simply purchase a copy of Light of the Body, the second part of the Pembroke Eve series, and I will send you a postcard featuring a lovely kangaroo/koala/Australian native animal. I live in Australia, so yeah, this is the real deal :-)

Easy hey?

I will write a note and sign the postcard, too. All you have to do is send me the receipt from the purchase and your snail mail address and I will do the rest :-)

Hope to hear from you all soon. Thanks! P.S. my email address is: mark alders at yahoo dot com

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Happy Birthday, Dianna!


If I quit writing tomorrow, I'll always be a mother and I have to say, it is truly the best job on earth!

I'm taking a day off from blogging today to celebrate my oldest daughter's birthday. Hard to believe she was a tiny baby in my arms just 14 years ago. Her dad and I were on a date night, watching the movie Twister when I went into labor. She was born the day before Mother's Day. She has brought me more joy than I could ever imagine! She has taught me more than I could ever imagine. True love is when you see your newborn baby for the first time. She'll start high school in the fall and now she's a young lady. Happy Birthday, baby girl! I love you!

Love,
Mommy

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Spirits and Hauntings

It's time for my weekly confession. This week, my absolute belief that there are such things as ghosts.

Hey. Stop looking at me that way. I've not lost my mind, I'm perfectly sane. I even have science on my side. The body is made of energy- when we die the energy has to go somewhere. It doesn't end, it just changes form. Given that the possibility for what happens to that energy is endless, including being trapped in an earth-bound state. Do I think every bump and hiss and crack in a house is caused by something ethereal. No. There are more explanations to be found in the known world than the unknown. Do I think sometimes there are paranormal explanations - sure. Why not.

I'm a devotee to the ScyFy Channel sow Ghost Hunters. So far they are the only program I've seen on TV that actually tries to disprove hauntings rather than the Goober and the Ghost Chaser antics you find on Travel Channel where the people investigating jump and scream at every little noise they hear. I say Goober because they aren't even compatent enough to be compared to the Scooby Doo Gang. As a matter of fact they are so bad, I can't even remember the name of the show in question. Anyhow, my point is I'd rather see a group trying to eliminate the obvious before slapping a label on something that truly doesn't belong. It makes the things they can't explain just that much more compelling.

But I digress.

I love ghost stories. Reading them, writing them, contemplating them. My latest is part of my erotic fallen angels series. Originally, the heroine was a mortal set up against the fallen angel Malachai. Well, the first two books in the series had the exact same configuration of hero and heroine. I thought I needed to change it up a bit. For some reason the word wraith popped into my head. Even though I'll confess to not knowing the true origin of the word. Of course, this only compelled me to look into the background and figure out how to best use it in my story, because after I had a taste for in my mouth, I knew I had to use it. - So, the definition and origin were pretty damn compelling. Scottish. All right, I like it. Used to describe a ghost. Groovy. One that has separated from their body at around the time of their death to warn or visit their loved ones. Oh, Yes!!! I'm so there. I mean the ideas I can get from are so vast. It actually gave me a good jumping off point for my villians. Let's face it, they couldn't be just any villians either. They had to be special. Enough so that my heroine would want to separate from her body in order to save herself.

Now, here's the rub - or not - how does your hero and heroine have sex if one is ethereal? Does one go for the Dan Akroyd/Donna Dixon scene in Ghostbusters? Or try to find another way around the problem? For me, I have it worked out in my head how it will all go down (oh, yeah that pun was intended). Now, all I have to do is get working on the actual story.

So, what are you contemplating?

Friday, May 7, 2010

Last chance to win a copy of Passionate Bid :)

Visit Romancing the Books ,say hi and you could win a copy of Passionate Bid. Tomorrow, a winner will be announced.

 

PassionateBid-133x200-72dpi

 

clip_image002This is a heartwarming story of an abandoned young awkward untidy wife who turns into an erotic bombshell to put food on the table, a drool-worthy veterinarian who finally learns to love his wife, and a little bug they both love. For two weeks, they live in harmony until a tragedy nearly cost them an irreplaceable young life.

 

Five Cups from Coffee Time Romance --"...I could not put this book down and it gives a reader the hope that they can find their own person to love coffee, no matter how bitter and horrible it is. As a reader I caution you to have a box of tissues by your side and be prepared for strange looks when you suddenly burst out laughing."--Danielle, Coffee Time Romance

 

Here is the link for the whole review: http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/passionatebid.html

 

Available from Red Rose Publishing, Amazon, ARE, Mobipocket

 

*******

Wendy, I already added your pretty cover. If you  guys have a newly released book, let me know and I’ll update the big slideshow. : )

I’ll try to figure out how to link the covers to the buy page. Okay, back to “trying” to finish my new novel. Hopefully, vertigo will leave me alone today.

 

Tierney

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Writer's Workshop: Lesson 2 ~ Make Your Readers Hungry


My daughter was watching cartoons the other day and shrieked her frustration at the television when it went to an ad just as the cartoon was getting really good. She asked me this..."Mommy, why does it always stop when something big is about to happen?" I explained to her that the television station wants her to keep watching even after the boring two minute ads. She asked me why they would do that. She just couldn't understand why her favorite cartoons would leave her hanging, desperate for more. I told her that it made the cartoon more exciting. She seemed satisfied with that answer and sat back down on her Elmo chair, anxiously awaiting her cartoon.

This is something we must all learn as writers. Make your readers turn those pages, begging for more. Leave them hanging with questions at the end of a scene, at the end of every chapter, even at the end of a book if the book is part of a series. Keep your readers guessing. Keep them hungry and they will keep coming back for more. Mystery is a good thing, in every genre. I hate to be spoon fed as a reader so I try so very hard to not under estimate my readers and allow them to think.

Here's an example of my leaving my reader's with something to ponder, taken from my current WIP.




Zoe woke in the dead of night. There was movement outside her cage and no light. The creatures didn’t need it to see but rarely did they enter at night. She knew they were nocturnal and instructed servants to tend to her mostly during the day. She made sure to pay attention to all their conversations, realizing long ago that it might help her escape one day. She sat up and strained to see, blinking. Nothing. It was pitch black. The hair on her arms stood on end. She could feel many around her and could tell by the clinks on the cold stone floor that they were in wolf form, their nails clicking as they passed. She heard low grunts and groans and knew they were shifting, thankful for the veil the darkness provided. She’d never get used to watching them change. She heard a match strike and knew they were lighting the lamps. Ever so slowly, she opened her eyes, surprised to see females. She had yet to see a female since her capture. And they were smiling at her.
Zoe stood, wrapping the sheet around her, shivering, squinting into the dim night. She watched as one of the females pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked her cage.
“Don’t worry,” the blonde female whispered. “We’re here to bathe you.”
“Bathe me?” Zoe managed to squeak out the question. She could certainly bathe herself but usually a male filled her tub and left her alone. This was most odd.
The female nodded and smiled again. “We must prepare you.”
“Prepare me?”
A red headed female spoke next. She seemed older and in charge. “For the Unleashing.”
Zoe shook her head and cleared her throat. “The what?”
“Our master has chosen you for his haremlik.”
“His haremlik? Who is your master?”
“You will take part in the Unleashing in an hour. We must prepare you.”
“I don’t understand…I don’t understand your words.”
“Our words?” The redhead giggled as she removed the sheet from Zoe and guided her to the tub.
Zoe wracked her brain, trying to think of a way she could tell them that she just didn’t understand their lingo. “Your vocabulary. The terms. I don’t know what they mean.”
“You soon will,” the red head assured her as she helped her out of her night gown and into the tub.
“You won’t tell me?”
Zoe watched the females exchange glances and thought she caught a twinge of pity but she couldn’t be sure.
“We are not permitted to do so but don’t worry. You will be safe.”
“Am I going somewhere?”
The red head looked her in the eye and smiled. Zoe took that as a yes. It was all she could do to not whoop and holler.
“Am I to be freed?”
She searched their faces and saw sadness, pity. Her heart sank as the two females bathed her. Three other females moved around her, carrying clothes, laying out make up, lotions, a hair brush. Where was she going if not home? Why would they take such trouble to bathe, clothe and primp a prisoner? The blonde whispered something Zoe didn’t catch. She listened harder.
“You’re wrong. I think she’ll be the Moonswan,” the red head explained in a rushed whisper.
Zoe peered at them both from beneath lush lashes. She watched the face of the blonde female light up.
“Do you think so?” she asked, dragging a sudsy sponge over Zoe’s arm.
“Yes, I do. Why else would our master choose an enemy? I think he’s in love with her.”
Zoe couldn’t help but comment. “Are you talking about me?”
The red head shook her head. “No. Just our master and his haremlik.”
“What is this haremlik? I’ve never heard the word.”
Again the redhead smiled at her. “I wish I could tell you but don’t worry.”
“So, this is not a bad thing?”
“Oh no! It’s a very good thing. An honor. And you were chosen first.” The redhead leaned over and whispered into Zoe’s ear. “We do this in secret. There are guards outside to alert us of our Lord’s coming, should he find out.”
Zoe’s eyes flashed open wide and she sat up, bubbles drizzling down her full breasts. “Someone has ordered you to prepare me for this haremlik without the king’s consent?”
The blonde hissed. “Yes. Shh!”
“You’ll all be punished. Are you not afraid?”
“The only one to suffer might be our master but we don’t think so,” the blonde explained.
“Why not? What makes him so special? It is a him I presume?”
The females snickered as they each shaved a long leg while Zoe held herself up by gripping the sides of the tub. “Oh yes. It’s a him all right. You’ll soon see. Now, hush. We cannot say another word. We’ve told you too much.”
“Will I ever be free?”
The redhead took her hand and squeezed, looking her straight in the eye. “I would bet my life on it that after tonight, you’ll never wish for your former life.”
Zoe blinked. Never had she felt such fear of the unknown. What was bliss to females able to shift into wolves in mere seconds may not be bliss to her. She closed her eyes and resigned herself to her fate. She was amazed she was still alive. Just the shock of living as a prisoner of wolf people was disturbing enough. Sometimes she wondered if she’d died back in those woods. Wondered if she was a vegetable lying in a hospital bed somewhere with only her delusions to keep her company. When would this nightmare end? But what did it matter? She had died long ago when she’d lost her husband and child.
Zoe groaned as they washed her hair, their long fingers massaging and scrubbing her scalp with care. The warm water rushed over her and her mind drifted to thoughts of Jack. Where was he? He seemed to be the only male who cared at all for her safety. The rest of them treated her like garbage, even kicking at her to wake at meal times. She slept constantly. It was a way to escape if even for a while. She had dreamed of Jacob last night. Even though he died as a baby she was watching him grow up in her dreams. He spoke to her. Told her that he was happy with daddy. They were playing in a park and it had felt so real to her. She smoothed the fine, blond hairs out of his eyes when the wind tossed them about. She held him to her and smelled him. It was all too real. He told her he loved her and soon they’d all be together.
Maybe the females were preparing her for her execution and only trying to decrease her stress level. She had heard the guards discussing her before. She couldn’t be sure because of their hushed tones but she could have sworn they mentioned Axl. She still called him Jack and always would but it was as if the little puppy she saved had also died. She never saw Jack as an animal. There was the one time he had burst into her cage and he was now a full grown man. She knew her punishment was connected to him but why they kept her alive in a cage was a mystery. Why was she still alive and why was she punished for saving Jack? She’d had no choice but to kill his mother. She’d have killed them both. If the Lord of the Wolfen ever spoke to her, she’d ask him. What did she have to lose? She’d lost everything.
The females helped her from the tub and led her to the bed where they rubbed oils upon her skin. They sprinkled crushed lavender, rose hips and gardenia petals over her, making a colorful mosaic on her fresh pink skin. Two females went to work on her make up and hair. Zoe remained silent. She recognized a shimmer of excitement, unspoken electricity shared among the women. It was a good sign. Whatever she was being prepared for had to better than existing inside her cold cage. She’d watch for a way to escape but knew the Wolfen had the caverns locked down tight. Even if she escaped, she was miles from home in the dead of an Alaskan winter.
“She reminds me of Sakti,” said the female brushing her hair.
“Both of them blessed with hair the color of moon glow,” replied the female pressing white powder onto her cheeks and chin.
“That would follow in the tradition would it not?”
Zoe sighed. There was nothing more frustrating than hearing others speak of her and only understanding half of it. And if she asked what they were discussing, she knew they’d tell her very sweetly that she would soon understand but they couldn’t yet explain. Why not? Weren’t they breaking Wolfen law at this very moment? She couldn’t fathom why they all seemed so relaxed about it all. There were guards outside but they seemed to be taking their sweet time. She noticed her hair was being fastened into tiny braids, dressed with crystal beads and feathers. One long white feather tickled her shoulder and she brushed it away. Crushed flowers covered her hands, arms and legs, stuck by the oils. She didn’t think she ever remembered smelling this lovely in all her life. She was almost certain she wasn’t marching to her own death today. The redhead finished painting her toes a shimmering silver and began to braid as well.
Zoe watched as the blonde crushed pomegranates and black berries into a thick oil with her palms. The colors swirled, bright red and black as she mixed them with a tiny brush. “Open your lips,” the female ordered.
Zoe opened her mouth so the female could stain the color onto her pale lips.
“This is an old custom, passed down for generations. Pomegranate for passion. Blackberry for your soul. Olive oil for love.”
Zoe gasped and closed her lips. “Haremlik. Does it come from the word, harem?”
The blonde looked frantically at the redhead who placed a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “Yes.”
“You want to tell me but you can’t.”
The redhead nodded.
“I’m to be part of a harem? Forced to have sex?”
“Not forced but I assure you, you are his first choice. Prepare yourself.”
“I thought we agreed we shouldn’t tell her,” the blonde hissed.
“I changed my mind. As she said, we’re already breaking Wolfen law. If she’s to be the Moonswan, we should prepare her.”
“Moonswan?”
“In your language, it means wife.”
Zoe stood up, the beads in her hair clinking when she did so. “I’m to marry a wolf man and be part of his harem?”
“That’s only for the Unleashing. Usually the wolfen male chooses a wife from his haremlik. The haremlik disbands after the Chase. Once Feral Consummation takes place. Sometimes.”
Zoe squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, covering her ears with her hands.
“You shouldn’t have told her!” the blonde said.
“I had to. What do you think she’d have done during the Unleashing and on national television?”
Zoe opened her eyes and stared at the female. “Wh…what did you say?”
The other females eyed one another. Everyone watched the redhead. She had just dropped a bomb in Zoe’s lap.
The redhead pushed her back gently, guiding her back to the bed. “Listen to me. You need to relax. Take deep breaths. There is no way out of this. If you want to live, you’ll go through this without creating a scene.”
“A scene? Are you telling me I just better suck it up? I’m going to be forced to take part in a nationally televised orgy?”
The female cringed. “Well… it sounds so awful when you describe it that way.”
“It sounds awful to me too.”
“This is a good thing.”
“Will it free me?”
“No.”
“Then I’m confused.”
“How so?”
“Are you serious? You said all of you were going against Wolfen law. I’m the enemy, right?”
“It sort of goes against Wolfen law.”
“What do you mean sort of?”
“Our orders come from next in line.”
“To what?”
“The throne.”
“A prince.”
“Sort of. Uh..yes, that’s a good way to look at it. The prince, next in line to be king.”
“But Lord of the Wolfen is unaware of all this?”
“Yes.”
“Couldn’t he have me killed if this angers him?”
“Certainly. But he won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s made promises, vowed to change the old ways.”
“What old ways?”
“Things like banishment of kin. Besides, Wolfen law dictates that a Wolfen male may choose any female, wolfen or human, for his haremlik.”
“Ah…a loophole.”
“Exactly.”
“So I’m protected in a way.”
“We hope so.”
Zoe wanted to scream. She was tired of the riddles, the talking in circles, the guessing games.
“How could this possibly be televised? Is there Pay Per View porn now?”
“Sort of.”
“Would you stop saying that?”
“Yes, my lady. Forgive me.”
The other females gasped. Zoe was a prisoner, not royalty. This female wolf was playing with her mind.
“My lady?”
“Get used to it. And close your mouths, girls. We will soon be serving her in her wedding chambers. She will be the Moonswan.”
“What if I don’t want to be his wife?”
“I don’t see you refusing him.”
“Why?”
“Because you love him now.”

Happy Writing and Reading!
~Alisha Paige
www.alishapaige.com

(Photos courtesy of Photobucket.com)

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Reviews: The Good the Bad and the Huh?

Take any book you've written that has gotten either a luke-warm or bad review (if you've had any) and compare it to reviews of the same book that were glowing. What's the difference? What was the one essential element the reviewer mentioned that didn't work for them? Was it one, or many? Was it something they just couldn't put their finger on?

I'm asking this question for a specific reason. Today I read a review of one of my novels where the reviewer said as a whole the book didn't work for her. Fine. Fair enough. Different strokes for different folks and all that jazz. Just to be fair the very same book was highly praised on another review site, so I'm running 50/50 on how it's been received. Not a big deal. However, when I got into the meat of the review, I didn't really find anyting specific that didn't work for the reviewer. It seemed the reviewer liked the individual elements, but not the book as a whole. Which had me saying, "Huh?" And it got me to thinking - and that's never a good thing.

Generally, I read my reviews as a learning tool. Especially those with very specific reasons they thought something fell flat, or wasn't fleshed out enough, ect. Of course taking this information with a grain of salt is imperative. I just like to keep it in the back of my mind for when I'm crafting another story. It makes me more mindful of certain aspects I might let fall to the wayside. Let's face it, writing is not for the faint of heart. You are juggling balls and spinning plates while trying to keep your story moving forward, your characters interesting and your plot side-stepping the dredded saggy middle. Sometimes I know I forget one aspect of the equation that might make the entire story read like a dissertation on quantaum mechanics. In other words, there is something important in there, it's just indecipherable.

But this isn't just about my reviews, or one's I've received on my books. If I want to try a new author (new to me anyhow) or read a series I've not any real idea about, I go to the reviews on amazon.com. My experience with that seems to be about the same as with my own reviews. Someone will like the book in question, and someone won't. How then do I find this helpful at all? Because I know what I like. If someone writing the review writes for instance that the heroine is bratty or selfish - I'll generally going to stay away from that book. On the other hand, if I'm reading a review of a sci-fi or epic fantasy and someone says the romance was unneeded, I know I'm probably going to like it. *big smile* Sometimes though the reviews are just rehashes of the blurb. That's not really helpful since it appears on the book page right above the reviews. In that case, I just take my chances if I really want to read the book - or I'll get it at the library.

I know some authors who don't even read their reviews, and others who wrap their world around them. I think I'm somewhere in the middle of the road. I read them, if they're good, I'm glad. It means someone "got me" and my odd view of the world and sense of humor. If they don't - aw, well, whatareya' gonna do?

So, tell me, what's your take on reviews? Do you listen to the good, throw out the bad and scratch your head at the huh? Or do you just strike it up to different tastes?

-Kate
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