And to our readers - Enjoy!
Hi Jan,
What a great blog. Thank you so
much for inviting me today. I want to tell the readers and authors how panicked
I was when I first started to learn about the art of writing.
Letting
Go of the Guilt
New writers usually heed the advice
they read on famous author blogs or in the “How to” books they read. When I was
once a newbie I did the same. One piece of advice I had practiced religiously
was to “write every day.”
I learned to discipline myself no
matter the garbage that flowed from my fingertips. After all, some of that
garbage may be useful at another time—or so the books said. Plus, I would not
allow that blank page to daunt me. I told myself, “Just spew on the screen,
gal. There is no such thing as writer’s block, and something will click in your
brain even if you fill up the pages with nonsense. It’s the routine that
matters, and who knows, you may get a usable paragraph or sentence worth
keeping.”
So, I carried my computer on family
vacations and such, and once to the hospital while spending long days with a
recuperating family member.
If I missed a day, oh my, the guilt
overwhelmed me. I’m a writer for gosh sakes, I had to write every day. The
guilt of missing a day due to real life only added to the self-inflicted
pressure.
Guilt feeds on itself and makes the
blank page look even blanker, if that’s possible. When I started filling pages
with my grocery list, or my weekly to do errands—I realized I was losing it. That’s when I finally smartened up.
I gave myself permission not to have to write every day. I told
myself, “You’re indulging in your lifetime passion and this is supposed to be
fun.”
It took a while to believe myself,
but it finally sank in. I write now when I’m in the mood or I have a brilliant
idea for a plot line, or a great character who wants to tell his/her story.
Winnie wanted desperately to tell
her story about the COD club. How her near-death experience gave her the
ability to speak to the dead.
Johnny May needed to tell readers
what happened at the Valentine massacre in Chicago when Capone’s gang wiped
them out.
If I’m writing an exciting scene, I can’t wait
to finish and find out what my characters are going to do next. Or when I’m so
caught up in the story, like “Gypsy
Blood,” I want to get it all down on the pages. Gypsy customs and lore had
me so enthralled I couldn’t wait to share it with the readers.
In the meantime, I’ve learned to
enjoy my family more, take the real life interruptions as they come, and even
take time to smell the roses. My stories are much better for my permission to
take time off, and the guilt, the pressure is finally gone. I can once again
truly enjoy my passion.
~ Blurb from Gypsy Blood ~
Everyone has secrets.
Homicide Detective Rita Moldova has a secret, a crystal amulet from
her Roma bloodline that shows her the last image a victim had seen before they
died. Now, a ritual killer is terrorizing her town and the crystal’s magic has
suddenly stopped.
FBI agent Matt Boulet is sent
to lead the task force and gives the group strange orders. Worse, Rita senses he
is holding back a deep dark secret about the killer.
When she confronts her seer mother’s advice, she learns another secret
about their clan that she finds impossible to swallow.
Rita swims through a whirlpool of confusion as the investigation
continues. Can Rita deny the lore of the ancients? Can she deny her growing
feelings for Matt Boulet?
(Excerpt)
The units arrived and sealed the crime scene.
Matt walked to her. “It’s a wash for tonight,
let’s call in our troops. All the uniforms on the scene will keep our man
away.” He took her hand. “Damn, your fingers are like ice.” He grabbed both her
hands and rubbed them between his, the friction warming more than her fingers.
“It’s late. Let me take you back to your car at the station. You look wiped.”
She let her shoulders slump. “Yeah, it’s been
a long day.”
The SUV’s seat cushioned her sore muscles.
Rita let her head fall back on the warm headrest with a deep sense of relief
and closed her eyes. Matt turned up the heat, and delicious warmth flowed over
her legs. A whisper of breath brushed her cheek, a hand slid over her waist.
Her eyes flew open.
He laughed. “I’m just putting your seatbelt
on. Don’t panic.”
Rita inhaled deeply and caught the faint scent
of spice, pine, and man. His nearness tempted her to lay her head on his broad
shoulder, cuddle, and sleep.
The grin he flashed…well, for a moment she
could have sworn he had read her thoughts. She sighed with frustration.
They pulled up to the station and he walked
her to the Rover. “Lock your car doors. You’re still dressed like you’re ready
for action.”
The chilly car seat sent gooseflesh up the
back of her thighs. With the door open, she quickly turned the key and hit the
heater. When she glanced back up at him, she found his eyes devouring her from
the top of her blonde wig, down her legs, then back to rest where the hem of
her skirt barely covered her bikini panties. She cocked her head. “What?”
Matt shook his head, took a deep breath, and
groaned.
Her gaze strayed to the noticeable bulge in
his jeans. She lifted her eyes to meet his. That sinful smile surfaced on his
lips again.
“Watch your legs.” He shut the Rover’s door
and walked back to his SUV.
*****
For your
reading pleasure of my paranormal/romance/thriller-chiller/action/mystery, here
is the buy site.
Available on
Amazon. http://www.amazon.com/Gypsy-Blood-Born-Romany-ebook/dp/B008190LLK/ref=sr_1_12?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1336600438&sr=1-12
Thank you for stopping by. Read more about my published
works at,
My blog
Facebook
I want to wish all of
you a great New Year. May all your hopes come true in 2013.
Lorrie
