Saturday Snippet: The Cycles of Existence

On By jccasselsIn Black Wing Chronicles, SFFS21 Comments

Welcome to Science Fiction Fantasy Saturday. Snippets of ten sentences or less are yours for the reading!

Today’s snippet comes from Book Two of The Black Wing Chronicles ~ how does THE BROKEN WING sound?

This week’s snippet is the next few sentences that follow last weeks’ snippet in which Blade is still recovering from the hovercycle crash and he’s still on Kah Lahtrec. Tahar, the strange spiritual guru of the Lahtrecki people is still caring for him.

***

Blade’s gaze narrowed as he studied the old man, trying to follow his reasoning. “My fate? What fate is that?”

The old man didn’t reply. He simply stared at Blade with an enigmatic smile on his lips.

“Are you talking about the Prenaha? The cycles of existence? You know I don’t believe all that.” Blade shifted his weight onto his hip and winced at the firestorm that shot through his leg. Unable to help his small grunt of pain, he leaned forward and massaged the tight muscles of his thigh above the brace, silently begging them to release and grant him some measure of ease.

***

That’s the snippet for the week. Thank you for stopping by. Please take the time to visit the other wonderful authors taking part in Science Fiction/Fantasy Saturday!

Patrick Stutzman: Do You Have To Be Female To Write Female Characters?

On By jccasselsIn Author Spotlight, Guest Blog3 Comments

There was so much positive response to a recent post on women and science fiction that when I had the chance to invite a male author who writes strong female leads beautifully, I jumped at it. Here is Patrick Stutzman, author of ALONE ON THE EDGE and his new release ALONE IN PARADISE.

***

Writing can be a lot of fun, but it can also come with its challenges. Among those challenges can be making your story and/or characters believable, getting the story to flow smoothly and logically, and avoiding the pitfalls into which many authors inadvertently fall. My primary problem involves being a man and writing about a woman.

My series of novels revolves around a woman who finds herself left alone, away from civilization, and must cope with her situation to the best of her abilities. I have received compliments from a number of women that I have somehow managed to pull off the ardent task of hitting the nail on the head as far as accurately portraying female characters. Those that don’t know me figure it is because I am secretly a woman or that I am gay. The last time I checked, I am a male; I have guy parts. And, my wife can assure you that I am not gay.
How do I do it? No, I don’t follow Jack Nicholson’s formula in As Good As It Gets where he says, “I take a man and take away reason and accountability.” It all falls down to observation and error-checking.

As a gamer, I liked to play female characters in my games. I create women player characters in my Dungeons & Dragons and Star Wars roleplaying games, and I have a female character in World of Warcraft and Skyrim. Why? Most of the other players played males. I wanted to have women come along on the adventures, too. With characters like Red Sonja, Wonder Woman, Jean Grey, and Sheena as inspiration, women have just as much capability to kick some major butt as the men.

I live in a house with three other women: my wife and my two daughters. Learning what women are like and how they think, though it is still an exercise, comes a bit easier for me because of that. When I create the women in my books, I take what I know from the three ladies in my life and apply parts of them to the characters.

I cannot honestly say that it’s that easy. After I complete the story, my editor steps in and checks my portrayals for accuracy. It really helps that my editor is a woman, too. If something seems askew, we discuss it and make any necessary changes to finalize the character’s depiction.

I am not the only man that creates female characters, but I am willing to bet that I am one of the few that does not make my women damsels-in-distress or really butch. I have always strived to be as realistic as possible in my stories, and having women properly represented is something I am proud to do.

***

Please feel free to visit each blog on the appropriate day and comment about the blog post, the book, me, or whatever you choose. One lucky person that comments on the blog stop that day will win a free e-copy of the book. Spread the word to your friends and come read about the continuing adventures of Anna Foster in the exciting sequel, Alone in Paradise.

A New Day of Infamy

On By jccasselsIn Uncategorized6 Comments

That was the headline on the newspaper the next morning, along with pictures of unimaginable horror.

In 2001, I was the Operations Assistant for a company that provided mobile television trucks, mostly for sporting events, but for other remote shoots. Our crews were scattered all over the country. We had people in NYC at the time and one was scheduled to be at the World Trade Center either to pick up or drop off some equipment.

I was in my office prepping my schedule for my daily calls and paperwork when the company secretary leaned in my doorway.

“Lisa just called in, she heard on the radio that a 747 hit the World Trade Center.”

Now, television folk are prone to gossip. Accuracy of information isn’t quite their forte. They tend to get overly excited and do a lot of tail chasing before time and the facts will reveal that the 747 was actually a cessna and it didn’t hit the World Trade Center, it only flew between the twin towers… and the pilot was drunk and is now in custody.

Expecting this to be the case, I wasn’t in any hurry to get up and go see. It wasn’t until our tech guy came through and repeated the information that my curiosity was piqued.

“We’ve got the TV on in the shop,” he said.

I followed him back to the repair shop. There amid the electronics, gutted cameras, audio equipment, monitors and everything else a clever tech would need to frankenstein together a television studio, the TV cart was pulled out into the middle of the room and the senior staff of the company was gathered around intently watching. One burning tower and one intact tower filled the frame.

As I walked in, a jet slammed into the tower.

The human in me was horrified. The television professional in me applauded the camera operator on getting the money shot. I thought it was a replay of events. How fortuitous for the camera operator to have his camera focused on those buildings at that time.

“When did the plane hit?” I asked.

“Just now,” Jim, my boss, said.

“No, I mean that jet they just showed, how long ago did that happen?”

“As you walked in. That was a second jet hitting the other tower.”

My knees buckled. Next thing I know, the guys are helping me onto a stool. I looked up at Jim, a Vietnam vet. “We’re under attack,” I said. Jim nodded.

Jim explained that the jets were cross-country flights loaded with fuel for optimum devastation.

In growing horror, I watched the situation grow more grim for the people trapped in those buildings. Lisa arrived, another stool was found and she and I gripped each other, keeping each other from toppling off the stools as we helplessly watched events unfold.

People like us, whose only crime was going to work that day, struggled to survive an impossible situation. A third jet hit the Pentagon. Unable to stand it, I retreated to my office in tears and switched on the radio. Ignoring the company’s no cellphone during business hours policy, I called my brother, a Sea-Bee reservist serving his duty week. I just knew he was going to be deployed somewhere.

The day wore on and the rumors flew. President Bush, just south of us in Sarasota was being rushed onto Air Force One and spirited away to parts unknown. The Secret Service launched their emergency protocols. The vice-president and speaker-of-the-house were also whisked away to separate locations.

I went outside. Situated between two very busy airports, our office had  a great view of all the jets usually taking off and landing. That day, there was NOTHING in the sky but birds. Nothing until the fighter jets screamed past overhead that is. Growing up in the shadow of MacDill AFB during the height of the Cold War, I found it comforting to see them in the sky overhead.

We tried to go on that day and do our jobs, but our minds were on the events shaping the future of our nation. People with children left early. Those of us with no family stayed behind to go through the motions, numb with shock and fear. We accounted for all our crew, stranded in various cities, including New York, and everyone breathed a little easier. We handled calls canceling shows, baseball games, football games, and I made the calls to the freelancers telling them the bad news. Most of them expected it.

The eeriest part of that day which will stick with me forever is the total absence of contrails and air traffic. Tampa International is a busy airport. That day, nothing moved overhead.  I had never seen an empty sky over Tampa. I pray I never see one again.

In the aftermath, we learned about the heroism of the civilian passengers of Flight 93 who sacrificed their own lives in a scarred field in Pennsylvania, the devastating loss of first first responders who valiantly kept going to try to save one more life, the office workers who carried a wheelchair bound  co-worker down countless flights of stairs to safety. The worst of humanity brought out the best of humanity as in a crisis, the true colors of a people will show.

If it seems I’ve neglected mentioning the Pentagon, it’s because that loss impacted my family most of all. The man who saved my husband’s military career and helped him turn his life around was killed in his office there. My husband keeps a picture of his tombstone on the wall of his classroom as a constant reminder and as a continuing memorial to all who lost their lives that awful day. Let us never forget them.

Saturday Snippet: Hero And Holy Man – Old Man’s Folly

On By jccasselsIn Black Wing Chronicles, SFFS11 Comments

Welcome to Science Fiction Fantasy Saturday. Snippets of ten sentences or less are yours for the reading!

Today’s snippet comes from Book Two of The Black Wing Chronicles, quit asking me about a title!

This week’s snippet is the next few sentences that follow last weeks’ snippet in which Blade is still recovering from the hovercycle crash and he’s still on Kah Lahtrec. Tahar, the strange spiritual guru of the Lahtrecki people is still caring for him.

***

“You’ll forgive an old man his folly,” Tahar said, breaking through the haze of pain that settled over him. His eyes met Blade’s.

“What folly, Tahar?”

The old man shook his head. “I have watched you die many times. I could not sit quietly and watch it happen again.” A slow, sad smile touched his lips. “I am Tahar. If I cannot interfere in your fate, then I am not worthy of my title.”

***

That’s the snippet for the week. Thank you for stopping by. Please take the time to visit the other wonderful authors taking part in Science Fiction/Fantasy Saturday!

Readers Want SEX!

On By jccasselsIn Writing43 Comments

“Put a lot of sex in your book. It’s what readers really want now. The more graphic and taboo the better.”

“We’re looking for erotic stories.”
“We’re looking for ménage…”
“We’re looking for BDSM stories. They don’t have to have HEA, but at least HFN.”

“Fifty Shades of Grey has sold more than 40 million copies worldwide, topping best-seller lists all over the world and set the record as the fastest-selling paperback of all-time…”

Fifty Shades tops youngsters’ summer reading lists…

Of all the things I just typed, I find the last one the most disturbing.

I’m not a prude by any stretch of the imagination. I cut my teeth on romance novels by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, Rosemary Rogers and Janelle Taylor. I rolled my eyes over Heather Graham’s time in the spotlight, but I read her books despite her “delicate, shell-like” ears and the “quicksilver” that seemed to run through everyone’s veins.

Even as a high-school student, what made those authors palatable to my mother was the fact that, aside from never having to explain the facts of life to me, these heroines were having awesome sex in a loving, monogamous, often married – or soon-to-be – relationship. The sex in these books was reasonably graphic in a purple prose kind of way and the language was seldom vulgar or crass but filled with flowery euphemisms that communicated the gist of the action quite effectively. The kinky, degrading sex acts were the purview of the villains. Heroes never treated a heroine with disrespect. Heroes cherished the heroines and their lovemaking reflected that.

It made an impression on me. So did my parents’ often Victorian sensibilities. To this day, I believe that some things are personal and private, and not meant “for the titillation of the masses,” to quote my own hero.

I originally wrote SOVRAN’S PAWN as an erotic science fiction novella in answer to a submission call from an editor I admire and wanted to work with. I read other novels and novellas that she’d edited for an idea of the kind of story she was looking for, and I crafted my book accordingly.

I finished the second draft and something odd happened. I remember being curled up in my office rereading the manuscript and noticing that my characters had subtly changed. The basic nature of who they were was different…harder…more brittle and infinitely less likeable. Blade Devon, my hero extraordinaire was a cruel misogynist who took particular delight in humiliating his soul mate. My strong, feisty heroine had devolved into a rabid bitch in heat who didn’t care how degraded she was, she wanted it and him all the more.

The coup de grace for this storyline occurred when my 78 year-old father picked up my printed pages and started reading aloud to my step-mom and husband. He paused, lowered the manuscript and peered over the tops of his glasses at me. The last thirty years slipped away and I was a teenager once again, slinking in after curfew. He didn’t have to speak to make his disapproval felt. To be honest, I was ashamed of myself anyway.

I’m a mom of daughters. I’m a grandmother of granddaughters. I wouldn’t want my 16 year-old granddaughter reading what I had written. I wouldn’t want her mother reading it either! Everywhere I looked the books that were getting the most publicity and the sales had lots and lots of graphic (and kinky) sex in them. It appeared that to sell my book to a publisher, I had to sell my soul as well.

After my father went home, I stared at the manuscript, trying to reconcile my own values with those the publishing industry seemed to give preference to. By accident I stumbled across a blog post titled “Killing the Porn Muse.” The author put into words what I’d been feeling. As writers it’s up to us to define relationships. I wanted to model for my girls what a loving, committed relationship looked like from the inside out, after all, that’s what I’m blessed enough to have found for myself. It’s what I want for them.

I’m not saying that being adventurous in the bedroom runs counter to that, quite the contrary. I think that in a loving, committed, trusting, monogamous relationship, a couple is only limited by their own imaginations and sense of propriety. What I am saying is that I don’t think the glorification of sex without the accompanying emotional attachment does anyone any good.

For myself, the intimacy of lovemaking between two people who are deeply in love is intensely personal. I can’t write a graphic sex scene without it being either too clinical, or too pornographic. It just feels too personal and I don’t see the need for it. Aside from that, for my children and grandchildren, I don’t want to advocate entering into a sexual relationship without first having a committed monogamous and loving relationship.

I will write you adventure. I will write you banter. I will give you nail-biting fight scenes and hovercycle chases. But do not expect me to invite you into my characters’ sex lives. You know they’re doing it. You don’t need to stand on the sidelines with a scorecard.

If you do find yourself in the bedroom with them, don’t expect to see anything glistening or heaving. This is one instance when I will tell, not show, what is going on. Innuendo is an art. I intend to practice it well.

Victor’s Last Walk in the Woods

On By jccasselsIn Uncategorized7 Comments

This past weekend, we had to say good-bye to a loyal friend and trusted companion. Here to tell their story is Victor’s best friend and mine, my husband, Dale.

It was late summer 1996. I was listening to a swap shop radio show on WMOX in Meridian MS at work at NTTC. An ad came on for a mixed breed hound dog puppy, free to good home. It was almost lunch time, so I decided to go check it out. My daughter Tamica had just lost her Collie, Rex, who had been hit by a car and had to be put to sleep. She had been expressing interest in getting another dog, and I thought this might do the trick.

When I got to the house, it was a turquoise green ranch house with a chain link fence around the back of the house. I rang the door bell and when an old man answered the door, the smell of urine and feces nearly knocked me over. He was smoking a cigarette and had a beer can in his hand. I asked him about the puppy and he said it was around back in the dog house near the fence.
I went around back and saw a little white puppy with black spots. His sibling was lying dead between the dog house and the fence. I picked the puppy up by the scruff of the neck to give him a once over. He was skin and bones and was crawling with fleas. When I checked his gums they were ash gray and the consistency of wet tissue paper.
I thought to myself that he might not be the dog I was looking for, but he was not staying at that house another day.
I put the puppy in the bed of my truck and stopped at Wal-Mart on the way home to pick up dog shampoo, worm medicine and some food. When I got home I handed the puppy to Tamica.  I told her not to let that little flea bag touch the floor until she had washed him at least twice.
We named that little puppy Victor because he looked like the RCA dog. Tamica complained over the first few days that he wouldn’t eat his food. I was afraid to worm him because he wasn’t strong enough. Over the first few days, I followed him around to check his stool for worms. I then discovered why he wasn’t eating. His stool was full of bug carcasses. He had been surviving at that house eating beetles!
Over the years he has been the best dog I have ever had. His job was protecting the girls. If they went outside to go to the freezer or the washer, Victor followed them. If Tamica had a boyfriend over, Victor made sure the boy had one hand on his head. If one of the other dogs barked, I would roll over and go back to sleep. If Victor barked, I got my flashlight and my pistol and went to see what was going on. He was as loyal and good natured as any dog ever.
When (JC) and I got married and we merged our packs, she had three dogs and I had two. I explained to her about Victor’s and his “job” of protecting the women. He would follow her everywhere, even to the bathroom. Tamica once expressed a desire to take him with her when she moved out. I said he needed room to run outdoors and would not do well in an apartment. She reluctantly agreed and Victor stayed with me.Since we moved to Georgia, Victor enjoyed the good life. He caught many squirrels and worried quite a few more.
These last couple of years have been hard on him. When my mom passed away I ended up with her two dogs. Max is an alpha male Dachshund who gave Victor a hard time. They had a tenuous relationship at best.
Victor had several strokes and was having a hard time getting around. He was almost totally deaf and practically blind. I wouldn’t have bet that he would’ve made it to Christmas 2010. His will to live and to cope with his infirmities was amazing. The survival skills he’d learned in the yard of that turquoise house were strong in him.
When I took him to the vet this morning to have him put to sleep, I almost couldn’t do it. We sat on the tailgate together waiting for the vet to come out with the shot. He never saw the squirrel, but he waited patiently with his head in my lap. I couldn’t talk to the vet to answer her questions, but I did manage to go back inside and pay the bill.
I buried Victor in the backyard in the shade of an old pecan tree that the squirrels escape into near the garden plot. It was some hard digging. I was listening to the Labor Day 500 countdown on the radio as I dug the hole. As I laid Victor in a sleeping position in the bottom of the hole, Rod Stewart was singing “You’re in my Heart”.
RIP Victor. We will go squirrel hunting again one day. Wait for me at the edge of the pines boy.

Saturday Snippet: Hero And Holy Man – Campfire Compadres

On By jccasselsIn Black Wing Chronicles, SFFS14 Comments

Welcome to Science Fiction Fantasy Saturday. Snippets of ten sentences or less are yours for the reading!

Today’s snippet comes from Book Two of The Black Wing Chronicles, quit asking me about a title!

This week’s snippet is the next few sentences that follow last weeks’ snippet in which Blade is still recovering from the hovercycle crash and he’s still on Kah Lahtrec. Tahar, the strange spiritual guru of the Lahtrecki people is still caring for him.

***

Chagrined to find himself so infirm that he’d need the help of a frail old man to get to his feet again, Blade swallowed his pride and carefully eased his aching body down onto the terrace across the fire pit from Tahar.

“Aren’t there supposed to be chairs or benches over here?” Taking a deep breath, Blade adjusted his immobilized leg, looking for a position that didn’t cause stabbing pain through his hips and back.

“I removed them.” Reflected firelight glittered in Tahar’s dark eyes. Shifting shadows danced across his face, playing chase in the deep grooves time had etched into his skin. His smile faded. His expression grew distant as he stared into the flames. Leaning forward, he studied them intently.

***

That’s the snippet for the week. Thank you for stopping by. Please take the time to visit the other wonderful authors taking part in Science Fiction/Fantasy Saturday!

Goodreads SOVRAN’S PAWN Giveaway Winner Announced

On By jccasselsIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Congratulations to Tiffany Johnson, the winner of the Goodreads SOVRAN’S PAWN Giveaway!! Your autographed copy will go out ASAP! Thank you to all 812 people who entered!

If you entered and didn’t win, please check out the “Buy My Book Here” link at the top of the page. There is a special discounted offer available for fans and friends – you can STILL get your autographed copy!

Girls Don’t Like Sci-Fi! Do They?

On By jccasselsIn Writing16 Comments

Sometimes it’s hard to remember how far we’ve come until you look back at where we’ve been.

When I was a kid, growing up on STAR TREK, WONDER WOMAN, SPACE 1999, THE SIX MILLION DOLLAR MAN, THE BIONIC WOMAN and BUCK ROGERS women were still pretty much objects to be kidnapped, tied up, held for ransom and eventually rescued by the big strong man. While women and girls were fans of science fiction, it wasn’t really written for us, with us in mind. The general consensus was that science fiction fans were primarily male, intelligent, between the ages of 12 and 40 and virgins living in their parents’ basement.

I was frustrated that there was precious little out there that depicted kick-ass women as heroic figures. So I started writing my own. That’s how Bo Barron was born. Even then, I realized that it would be impossible to find a market in the male-dominated science fiction market. I was ready to give up the idea and bow to pressure to go to college to be an English teacher. Fortunately, I found the Rissa Kerguelen series of books by F.M. Busby and held fast to my original plan.

Until I sat down to write this post, I’d pretty much forgotten those books, which is a shame, considering how many times I read and re-read them in high school. It was 1984, Bo was already cutting a wide swath through my friends who clamored for more of her adventures. It was a stinky boy who told me no one would ever buy a science fiction book about a girl warrior. College loomed. I had to declare a major. While browsing in a bookstore I found Rissa. She was so different from Bo and while I tried to really like her, something about her fell flat. I later came to realize that was because she was written by a man, from a man’s perspective. But what kept me going was knowing that here was a character who had a lot in common with my own. If she could see the light of day, so could Bo.

Over the years, I heard over and over that “women just don’t read science fiction” and “women aren’t into science fiction.” I did and I was. What was I? Chopped liver? I would argue with whoever held still long enough that the reason more women weren’t into science fiction was because men were writing science fiction for men. If more women wrote science fiction, more women would read it. But it was the 1980’s and gender lines were still clearly drawn.

The movie ALIEN started things changing. Ripley was a kick-ass heroine that men loved and women related to. It was a slow process, but by the 1990’s, the sub-genre of Science Fiction Romance was on the rise and traditional romance publishers were taking a chance on it. However, the mainstream SF publishers still didn’t want anything to do with it. Hard SF, cyberpunk and technothriller were all they wanted to see. Space Opera? Forget it.

The stereotype of the awkward, but brilliant male adolescent SF fan living in his parents’ basement was still the target market of SF publishers. Funny, but during that time Romance sales soared and SF sales did not. Film and television tapped into the female market with shows showing women in heroic roles like SPACE: ABOVE AND BEYOND and BABYLON 5 and STARSHIP TROOPERS. In fantasy and other genres there was XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS, NIKITA, and even the X-FILES, which switched the gender roles with the skeptical scientist played by Gillian Anderson and the wild-eyed paranormal expert played by David Duchovny.

Fast forward to the 21st Century. SF Romance still struggles to find a market as Romance publishers are reluctant to deviate from their formula and require Happily Ever After endings or at least Happy For Now, and Science Fiction publishers are more reluctant than ever to sully their reputations with that tripe. Of course, the beautiful thing is, SF authors are no longer dependent on the hallowed halls of traditional publishers to get their work in the hands of eager readers. There is an awful lot of self- small- and indie-published SF out there, a lot of it Space Opera and SF Romance.

You see, the nasty little secret that mainstream SF publishers never realized is that no matter the situation, be it war, politics, or business, no matter how complicated it is at the outset, all you have to do to really screw it up is to throw a woman and romantic element into the mix. It doesn’t necessarily make it a romance, but it does complicate your story nicely. That’s the kind of thing women love to read. Even Homer understood how women can complicate and cloud the issue. After all, he told the story of the Trojan War, which, according to Homer, was all for the love of a beautiful woman.

As for women being fans of Science Fiction, just take a look at current trends in cosplay.

Yeah. Women love SF. Women love a good story. Women don’t necessarily need a Happily Ever After. If we did, GONE WITH THE WIND wouldn’t have sold so many copies and CASABLANCA wouldn’t be considered one of the most romantic films EV-AR!!

***

What do you think? Are girls into SF? Has traditional Science Fiction publishing met the needs of female fans? Or are they hopelessly still operating on an outdated business model?

Is Ignorance Truly Bliss?

On By jccasselsIn Update, Writing23 Comments

I miss the good old days before I supposedly knew what I was doing.

Back in the last Century, at the end of the 80’s, I was a happy wannabe writer. A new invention had sprung up and I was having oodles of fun using my secretarial skills that I’d made a point to learn in the 9th grade to help me in my future career as a writer. My skills as a touch typist landed me clerical jobs and my boundless curiosity drove me to learn various computer programs. My dad enlisted my help keeping the books for his company on his brand-new TRS-80 computers. One of the perks was that I could have one of those 8” floppies to store my writing on, and print it up on his dot matrix printer for editing and archival! Those computers spoke TRS-DOS and I became proficient with the language. (If you’ve read SOVRAN’S PAWN you’ll understand the significance of that.)

In those days, I just told stories. I didn’t worry overly much with “hopping heads” or “pacing” or “plot reversals.” I just threw things at my characters and let them deal with them, developing along the way. It was raw and it was fun. It was also very, very bad writing but I didn’t care. Ignorance was bliss.

The 90’s rolled around and computer disks shrunk. WYSIWYG replaced dot matrix, and a magical little thing called Windows appeared on the horizon. That was when I lost my innocence. I went to my first writer’s meeting and I had my very first critique – not only by published authors, mind you, but authors whose books I had read and enjoyed. I was intimidated and terrified. By the time they finished their very gentle, but honest critique, I felt stripped bare, humiliated, dejected and a complete failure. I wanted to crawl away and lick my wounds in private.

I will be forever thankful that my then-husband had the foresight to accompany me to that meeting and sit through the critique at my side, listening to every word. When it was over, he could see how shattered I was. Putting his hand over mine, he leaned forward and said, “May I ask you a question?”

I cringed. He wasn’t exactly the most diplomatic sort. At their nods, he picked up my submission and set it on the table in front of him.

“Please be honest. Do you think she has talent to pursue writing, or do you think she’s wasting her time?”

The question took them by surprise, I think. They looked from me to my husband and then to one another, shifting uncomfortably in their chairs. Slowly the nodding began.

“She has talent…”

“This is an excellent beginning. She only needs to learn a little more about storycraft.”

Then they explained to my husband and to me, because I hung on every word, that the things they had pointed out in the critique were common among newbie writers. I was guilty of passive voice, shifting from one POV character to another within a scene, letting the reader stay just outside the action as an observer and not a participant, telling and not showing.

That was the beginning of my professional writing career. Starting that day, I threw myself headlong into learning everything I could about story craft. From that day, the sheer joy of writing and spinning stories diminished a little more every time I sat down to work. Now I spend more time thinking of my writing as rising and falling action, goal-conflict-disaster-repeat, scene and sequel, plot points, inciting incident, dark moment, resolution, reward, than I spend just telling a story.

I do hate the middle part of the story. That’s where you torture your characters to prepare them for the grand finale. You have to move them ever onward towards that grand decision that makes the climax worthwhile.

Fast forward to 2012. SOVRAN’S PAWN is the first book in a series. It’s Act I and as such, was fun to write. BARRON’S LAST STAND is the Final Act. The big finish and also a lot of fun. Book Two (let’s try out the title THE BROKEN WING) is Act 2 in the overall series arc. I hate the second act. This is where story craft is vital and plot and pacing are of primary importance. The action MUST rise and fall. The plot MUST reverse at the right time or the reader will lose interest.

I stared at my storyboard until my eyes crossed. I filled index cards with scenes and notes until I ran out of them. I had a beginning and an ending, but a convoluted path between the two, with holes large enough to fly a Tau-class cruiser through. I was beginning to despair ever making sense of this story when the advice came in from another writer to stop planning and just let the story unfold.

So simple, yet sitting on this side of the last twenty-two years, it’s much more difficult than it used to be. I sat down, put my notes aside, and just started writing, letting my characters tell their story without worrying about how many words I was racking up or how passive the voice. Since I started doing that, I’ve added more than ten thousand words to the manuscript and I’m falling in love with the characters again. I know much of it will be cut and revised in the editing process, but for now, the story is unfolding and it’s poignant and funny and lovely and sad. I hope I can stay out of my own way long enough to tell it all the way through.

***

How has learning the “proper” way to do things changed your outlook on your work or hobbies?