Back at Last

by Marsha Ward

I'm ba-a-a-a-a-ck. I seem to have been gone a long time, but here I am again. I think the last co-author standing should get a party, don't you?

I've been busy, believe it or not. As I drown in slip-sliding paper falling toward me and my fingers on the keyboard (most of which I could shred, once I extract the odd computer disk, wedding announcement, and hardback book from the pile), it occurs to me that I could share how I keep track of my word count as I write.

Now understand, this can be as complex or as simple as I want to make it. I can use the Excel chart my friend J. Scott Savage sent me several years ago that nags me incessantly, or I can add and subtract words as I write and edit, or I can keep a simple running tally at the beginning and the end of my writing day. I kind of like the simple style nowadays, so I'll tell you how that last thing works.

I love the 9.5 inch by 6 inch one-subject notebooks for this task. They're not so big as to be in the way, and not so small as to disappear amidst the rubble on my desk. I open it up and draw three equally-spaced lines down the page. This gives me two sections of columns to fill up.

In the left-most column, at the top, I put the date. I can put anything else in the nature of notes in that column, like the times I start and end, the scene or chapter I'm working on, and how many hours I work. I see I have a notation saying slippery elm bark and chamomile tea. Ha! I know what scene that one was!

The second column is where I put the beginning word count opposite the date. If I'm starting fresh, this is zero. If I want to, I can add the word count when I do a save, when I get up for lunch, or what-not (I usually only put down the last three digits, or hundreds). The last figure I put in that column is the final word count of the day, unless I want to do a total of words written underneath it. I finish the day with a horizontal line drawn under all the notes for the day, in both columns.

The other section of two columns is for when I get to the bottom of the page. You knew that, right?

How do you find your word count at the beginning and end of the writing period?

If you're in Word, look for a menu item called Word Count. It might be in the Tools menu. That's where I'd look first, because that's where it is in my ancient Word 2003. Before you click it, highlight all your text. Then click Word Count, and you'll have a rough estimate of your words. I say "rough," because it will count every asterisk (*) and Chapter Heading, but it's good enough for starters. Do this again when you quit for the day, and you have the second count.

Or, you can use the software program I now use, yWriter5 (see below for another rapturous account), which tells me at the bottom of the main window how many words I write that day, along with the total of words in the project. I put those numbers in my notebook at start and end of day.

yWriter5 and its antecedents were written by novelist and computer programmer Simon Haynes of Australia. He couldn't find a writing software that suited his needs, so he wrote it. He updates it quite often, sometimes to meet suggestions of users, but it's a lean program written to use few resources of your machine. It even runs off a flash drive, so it's highly portable.

You can find yWriter5 at http://www.spacejock.com (Hal Spacejock is the hero of Simon's futuristic sci-fi series). There are several other useful programs to be found there, as well as a link to the new how-to wiki created by the folks in the next paragraph.

This software is free, not only no-cost, but free of nasty surprises like virii, Trojan horses, and other malware. There's an active community of users in a Google group who support each other. The old hands answer the questions of the newbies, and Simon occasionally pops in, too.

Can you tell I like yWriter5? Let's see how many converts I can make. Let's see, |||...

yWriter5

Remember the novel writing software, yWriter5, that I talked about a couple of weeks ago? I am absolutely loving it. I hadn't intended to begin writing until yesterday, but I started early, and already have put in characters, locations, and notes. Also, the best thing, of course, I have written five scenes, and I'm in the second chapter. Sweet!

Trying out New Writing Software

by Marsha Ward

I've been testing a software called yWriter5 by Spacejock Software for a couple of days now. I'm starting to get the hang of it.

Today I learned how to make the first chapter not a Chapter but Information, and put in the brainstorming notes from my session with Connie Wolfe while we crossed the country a few weeks back. 470 words. Do they count for writing?

A Glimpse at a Character in My Head

by Marsha Ward

Oops! I never should have brought up the subject of my character Elijah Marshall on my Character blog. He's demanding that I introduce him to you. Since I don't think any of The Zion Trail is on disk anywhere, I'll have to wing it from a typescript. Problem is, I have a couple of differing copies. I guess I'll try the one on top. It's probably the latest revision. Ha! From back in the late 80s! With two spaces after a period! I'll try to restrain my Inner Editor as I type. Here goes: Elijah Marshall in all his imperfect First Person glory.

THE ZION TRAIL
by Marsha Ward
Excerpt from Chapter One

As I made a half-circle at the end of the row, I pulled the horse to a halt, swept off my old hat, and wiped the trickles of sweat from my eyes with the back of my wrist. I ran my fingers through my dripping black hair to train it back from my eyes before I replaced my hat. Settling the shade once again on my head, my eyes caught a movement far up the road to my right. (Yikes! A big woopsie!)

Across the rows of fresh young corn stalks I saw the dust rising slowly into the air as two figures walked along the dry surface of the lane. I knew them for strangers by their dress, for no one in our area wore a black suit except on Sunday, and this was Tuesday.

Curiosity was part of my makeup, so I leaned on the plow a while, watching their progress and wondering about their errand. They saw me, and hopped the ditch to approach the fence as they came alongside my position.

At fifteen, I had reached nearly my full growth, and I wasn't beyond considering myself a man. I did as much as my father on the farm, except for the planning and the worrying, so I wasn't surprised when they hailed me as a man.

"Hello, Brother. Can you give us a drink?" the taller man called, indicating my water bucket under a nearby tree.

I wrapped the lines around the plow handles and strode to the fence. "Plenty, and welcome." I bent to shoo away a drinking yellowjacket, and lifted the pail to the top of the fence.

The taller man drank first, and I saw that he was older by three or four years than the shorter man. As they slaked their thirst, I wondered how long since they had tasted water, for they drank with great gusto, and an air of thankfulness.

Their suits were covered with the fine dust that abounded on our roads, but they seemed not to mind, giving all their thoughts to dipping water down their dusty throats.

While the shorter man drank, the taller one looked at me and smiled. "It's been a long, dusty walk. We're thankful for the water. I am Nathan Caldwell, and my companion is Matthew Long. We are ministers of the gospel, and would welcome the opportunity to preach in your neighborhood."

I stuck out my hand and pumped his. "My name is Elijah Marshal, and my pa will be glad to see you. He's a God-fearing man, and every man of the Lord is welcome in his house." I squinted up at the sun. "It's nearly dinner time. Come and eat with us."

Mr. Long grinned his acceptance as Mr. Caldwell nodded.

"Just follow the road to the first lane on the right," I directed them. "Tell my ma I sent you. I'll be along with the horse by and by."

They waved their thanks as I hauled the bucket off the fence and turned back to the plow. Old Tom still stood where I'd reined him in, flicking flies away with his tail and standing three-legged in the sun. His ears twitched at my approach, and I patted his flank before I unhitched him from the plow.

"Tom, boy, we've got company. Won't that make Ma's eyes dance!"

Snowbound!

by Marsha Ward

A couple of days ago when I opened my front door, this is what I saw:

That put me in mind of a scene in my first novel, The Man from Shenandoah:

The weather grew steadily colder as the men continued with the logging. James found his creek, and started cutting logs for a cabin for Ellen. Carl chose the wooded bench with a natural clearing in the center for his home site. An artesian spring rose just below the clearing, which became the headwaters of a little stream that ran to join the creek far below his father's home. Carl had staked out a homestead that took in both sides of the stream and down into the valley. Ida would favor the cabin being surrounded by trees, snugly tucked into the forest.

The walls of both cabins were half way to the top, and the Christmas party was ten days away when the good weather broke in late afternoon. White clouds laden with snow rolled down from the mountain summits. A freezing wind blew from the north, forcing Carl, working alone at the cabin, to pull his gray coat collar up around his chin. He saddled Sherando, headed him south, and told the gray gelding, "Take me to Pa's, boy."

The horse started off into the driven needles of snow. Carl hunched his back against the wind, crossed his arms, and stuck his hands beneath them. After a while, the trail lay through the sheltering trees between his cabin site and Rulon's, but at the end, there was still the meadow to cross.

Carl halted Sherando before he left the trees to let the horse rest. He dismounted and stamped his feet to restore circulation, beating his hands together to warm them.

"Sherando boy, this storm can't last long. I've got to get that cabin built before Christmas." Climbing into the saddle once more, Carl urged the gray into the biting wind. "It's only a quarter mile," he told the animal. "It's mighty cold, but you're tough, Horse."

The moaning wind blew his words away as the icy blast hit them. On every side, Carl could see only swirling white ice crystals. He gave the horse its head, trusting its instinct to reach the cabin.

Sherando moved slowly, fighting the cross wind as he headed west up the meadow. The wind increased and tugged at Carl, almost dislodging him from the horse's back. Ice caked his hair and snow sifted down into his collar. Then they passed the bulk of Rulon's cabin on the right, and Sherando changed direction to cross the creek.

The horse paused at the log bridge spanning the water, and Carl saw that ice was forming at the sides of the stream. He shivered, and urged the tired horse to step onto the bridge.

"Come on, boy," he shouted over the keening of the wind. "Them logs are set solid."

The gray stepped tentatively onto the slippery surface of the logs, then skittered hurriedly across.

"That's a boy," Carl shouted triumphantly.

Snatched by the wind, his voice carried to his father's cabin, and a light shined out into the white yard as the door opened.

James blocked out the light as he came through the door and caught Carl, who was sliding off the gray's back.

James called out, "Clay, grab them reins and take care of the horse. I'll get Carl into the house."

"You're well nigh froze, son." His father helped James assist Carl across the doorsill. "That blow came up mighty sudden. It's a wonder you made it back here."

Carl shivered, then said, "It's my fault I got caught. I want that cabin up so bad, I let the storm take me by surprise."

***

Morning came without a change in the weather, and Clay had to lean heavily against the door to crack loose the ice binding it to the jamb.

"Pa, that storm's still a-blowing, and the snow's piled up next to the door. How am I going to get out to feed the stock?"

"There's always a way for a man to feed his animals." Rod went over to the door. He tugged it open and faced a wall of white. "Fetch me a stick," he told Clay. "Maybe it ain't packed down tight."

Reaching as high as he could through the doorway, he flailed the stick into the snow. "It's still loose. Get some pails, boys."

Rod buttoned on his coat while Clay and Carl brought the buckets. "Clay, keep that second pail until I need it. Carl, you empty the full ones into the washtub."

Rod scooped out a pail full of snow at the top of the doorway and handed it over his shoulder to Clay. Taking the other bucket, he scooped again. Repeating the process until he had a hole big enough to crawl into, Rod then wiggled his way out the door and entered the icy cavern. "Clay, give me that stick again." His voice boomed in the confined space. "We'll see how deep this drift is."

Thrusting the stick into the snow above him, Rod felt a light resistance. He coughed as a load of snow fell into his upturned face. "Get me a longer stick," he commanded, angry at the elements.

Carl handed him Julia's broom, and Rod took it with a jerk. He stabbed it upward and broke through into the howling morning. New snow burst into his cavern, blinding him for a moment. Then he broke loose more of the crusty roof, and packed the snow down on one side to make a ramp to exit the hole. Triumphantly, he pulled himself out into the storm, floundering in the cabin-high drift.

"By gum, Colorado does everything in a big way," he shouted down to his family. "I have never seen a blow like this before."

Of course my door wasn't iced shut, nor does the drift reach the door top, but we do have about two feet of snow in a location where four inches is considered a good snowfall. I can truly better empathize with my characters now.

Trials of Trail of Storms

by Marsha Ward

I've had a novel in the works for quite a while, entitled Trail of Storms. It seems to me that this book has an important purpose to someone somewhere, because I've been undergoing various trials in getting it published. I believe in an Evil One who doesn't not want me to succeed.

Among the trials I've experienced this past month: pretty severe depression, problems with Internet Explorer crashing and finally not loading and having to convert to Firefox browser usage (including finding all my favorites and bookmarked sites), problems with the iUniverse site timing out during uploads then not opening the author section, my manuscript getting corrupted and my having to revise margins and insert tabs

FOR.EVERY.SINGLE.PARAGRAPH!

Also, having to re-center each chapter heading and every three-asterisk scene break, several late nights that wreaked havoc on my eyes, electrical power failures at crucial times, etc., etc., etc.

Oh, did I mention all my italics were gone? I had to compare the manuscript side-by-side with a previous version to find them, and I certainly hope I found them all.

Among the tender mercies of my Heavenly Father, I count my wonderful friends who have literally saved me from sliding into deep despair, a son who traveled over 100 miles to fix my leaking roof, and God's hand in keeping my Internet connection going during the 2 hour and 49 minute upload of the photo file. I know He had His hand in the works, because I kept hearing the ominous click that signals the modem shutting off, but the connection maintained a live status and the photo kept uploading throughout. Not three minutes later, I lost the connection.

!

God lives, and He loves His Children!

Merry Christmas!

by Marsha Ward

So I took my strained back on a walk (cold therapy, right), though the ice and snow drifts to the community mailbox array. On the way I dropped two garbage bags off in the park's collective bin (I'd call it a Dumpster, but that's yanno, a trademarked name). I didn't want to have them sitting around during the next storm, which I could see coming in from the west.

The mail had collected over the last couple of days, and since my box is the standard 4- x 6-inch slot, it can get filled up with junk mail pretty fast. I knew I had to make this trek, pain or not.

It was worth it. There was a key in my box along with sundry Christmas cards, ANWA renewals, and sad economic missives. In one of the big boxes reserved for packages, I found what I didn't expect to come until after Christmas: my Christmas present to myself.

Firefly!

I never saw the series until it was off the air, but my son converted me, and I've become a fervent fan since he did. After all, it IS a Western. With great writing.

I know Joss Whedon doesn't believe in God, but Merry Christmas to him and to all my friends everywhere.

(You may substitute your favorite seasonal holiday, but I'm a Christian, so "Merry Christmas" is my first choice of greeting at this time of year. Almost no one I know minds.)

Writing Again

By Marcia Mickelson

So, I took a few weeks off from writing. I watched a few movies. I read Stephenie Meyer's Breaking Dawn. (Go to my blog if you'd like to read my review.)

Now, I'm back to writing mode. It feels good to be off editing mode and back to writing mode. I have 38,352 words written in my work in progress. So far, I don't like my working title. It needs a little work.

It feels good to be back to writing. And, I'm working on a fairly new project. I started it in April during Book In A Month and am so happy to pick it back up. I've been working on old stuff for so long. It feels good to be working on something new.

I'm trying to write at least 1,000 words a day. So far, the month has gone okay. Thanks to Tristi Pinkston for once again sponsoring a BIAM for August. I hope to actually add to the word count this time. Last BIAM, I used for editing and my word count diminished rather than increased.

Once school starts, I think I'll be more successful because the kids' bedtime gets more regular. I would love to have this thing finished by October. Then, it's back to editing mode. Yuck. I don't like editing.

Chatting with my Characters

by Marsha Ward

*Last week, I found out that some characters from my novels were camping out on the Mogollon Rim. Because it was so rainy, I invited them to ride down into the hamlet where I live and take advantage of the empty mobile home I own, as a much drier sleeping arrangement. They agreed, and the first problem I had was finding a place to put up the horses for the night. After I made a few telephone calls, a neighbor let the men stake out their animals in her orchard. I ferried saddles and gear and men back to the trailer, and introduced them further into the 21st Century.

ME: Here we are. Let me unlock the door and show you around.

CLAY OWEN: The door's made of glass?

ME: It's called an Arcadia door, and it slides open.

(RULON OWEN affectionately ruffles his younger brother's hair): Keep your mouth shut, little brother, or you'll collect a heap of flies. I 'spect that won't be the only wonder you're gonna see.

ME: A lot of things will seem strange. You've leaped past quite a few years.

CARL OWEN: That's so, ma'am. After we passed under the rainbow, we noticed a passel of oddments, like that vehicle you use. We saw some like yours, and others with an open bed in the back.

ME: Mine is called an automobile. Or a car. It's for getting people around, like a buggy or a coach. Those others you saw are trucks. They're best for carrying gear or goods. (I pause and look at my characters standing around the living room, dripping on the rug.) It's odd to hear you call me "ma'am."

RULON: We took a vote, ma'am. We know you're by way of being our "mother," but it don't seem fittin' to call you "Ma." We have a fine ma already. Well, you know that. You made her up.

ME: Yes, years ago. (I gesture around.) This is called a living room. Sort of a parlor. That's the kitchen, but the stove is very different than any you've seen. I'll show you how to work it later. (I shepherd them through the house.) This is the bathroom. It's more than an indoor privy. It's also a washroom. (I turn the faucet on, then off.) You wash your hands here. This tap turns on the cold water, and this one is for hot.

CARL: Hot water?

ME: Yes, there are taps like these in the kitchen, too. I have sort of a boiler outside that heats up the water. Then it's piped in to the taps. (I turn around and indicate the bathtub.) No buckets here, folks. Hot water on tap for your baths.

(CARL bumps Clay's arm): You're overdue.

CLAY (bumping back): Rulon's the oldest. He always says he gets the tub first.

ME: Um, you don't all need to use the same water. See this little hole? And this lever? (I work the lever.) The water goes down into a big pipe that takes it away down yonder. When each of you is finished, you can drain your water and the next man can start fresh. Or you can bathe in the waterfall.

CARL: Out on the creek?

ME: It's an indoor waterfall. (I demonstrate the shower, and the men make appropriate sounds of disbelief.) We call it a shower.

RULON: All these things are miracles to us, ma'am. What's this white chair for?

ME: That's the privy part. (I lift the lid.) We call it a toilet. You answer Nature's call here, then flush it away with this lever. If you're not going to sit, lift the seat and (I feel my cheeks beginning to burn) aim low. Here's the toilet paper.

(CLAY stoops over to examine it): It's a whole roll of soft paper, Rule. (He tugs, and TP unrolls onto the floor.) Oh, sorry, ma'am!

ME (laughing): Just wind it back up, Clay. It comes apart when you need to use it for cleaning up after yourself.

CLAY: Comes apart?

ME: Look at it. It's perforated into squares. Perforated means not quite cut apart. You hold here and pull here, and there you have a square or two. (I hold up two sections of TP.)

(CLAY's face is still red as he winds the TP back on the holder): Thanks for the instruction, ma'am.

ME (looking after RULON and CARL, who have wandered on into the bedroom): It's small, but it's cozy.

RULON: Ma'am, I reckon we all can sleep in that there bed.

ME: I thought you could spread your bedrolls out in the Arizona room, but if you prefer . . .

CARL: We're used to the ground, ma'am, but a bed! We ain't seen such a nice puffy one before.

ME: The house is yours until you need to go back. Do what you want. Except, I really am uncomfortable being called "ma'am." I understand your feelings about not calling me "Ma." You can keep that for Julia. How about calling me "Mom"?

RULON (tries it out): Mom. Mom. What's it mean . . . Mom?

ME: It's short for Mommy! I guess that's not a Southern form of address.

CARL: We use Mama and Ma, or Meemah, ma'am--Mom.

CLAY: I like it.

ME: It's better than calling me "Marsha."

RULON (nods): Yes ma'am, that's not fittin', ma'am, I mean, Mom.

ME: Let's go see the Arizona Room.

CLAY: Why's it called that?

ME: I believe it's because of all the glass to let the sunshine in. Folks think Arizona is hot everywhere, but that's not true. Up here in the forest, the sunlight is welcome.

CARL (looking around): Where's the fireplace, Mom? We can't build a campfire on this purty rug.

ME: You won't need a fire. You'll be warm here.

CARL: We need to cook our supper.

ME: I'll show you how to operate the stove. (We go back into the kitchen and I turn a knob.) This fire comes from piped-in gas. You can make the fire hotter by turning the knob a bit more. Just make sure you turn it off when you've finished cooking!

RULON: Much obliged, ma--Mom. This is surely a wonder!

ME: It is. Modern conveniences have come a long way since your era. (I look around.) I think that's all you need to know for now. There are clean towels in the cupboard in the bathroom. Get cleaned up and I'll wait for you in the parlor.

TO BE CONTINUED

*This is a work of fiction. I don't really talk to time-traveling characters from my novels. I do like them a lot, though, and am glad they passed under the rainbow to visit me in my own place and time. To order my novels, The Man from Shenandoah and Ride to Raton, visit my website at marshaward.com.

Home Alone...Almost

By Tamra Norton

This week is very unusual for me because I'm almost home alone. Yeah--that NEVER happens for me. As a homeschooler and mother of seven, with all college kids home this summer to boot, I never get to be home alone. And this week, I'm still not home alone exactly...but almost! Confused?

Lemme 'splain...

My 48-year-old works all week (well, he gets Friday off). My #1 and #2 are working full time this summer--they're never home during the day and basically do their own thing anyway. My #3 is spending 2 weeks with cousins in Oklahoma. My #4 is at EFY (a church youth camp) all week. My #5 is at Boy Scout Camp all week (and I hope he's not turning into a tomato). That leaves #6 (age 9), #7 (age 6) and ME (Age 29 and 177 months).

What to do? What to do?

Well, I'll tell you exactly what I'm doing. I'm WRITING! And it feels great. I've set some goals. I've put the family on notice. And I've told everyone that THIS IS MY WEEK FOR WRITING.

So far so good. I've been quite productive, and REALLY hope to finish my "fairy tale." It's coming along great!

Stay tuned next week to hear how things went.

Up for the Challenge?

By Tamra Norton


I've done a few challenging things in my life...

When I was seventeen I climbed to the top of Huayna Picchu--that mountain peak you see here towering over the ancient Inca ruins of Machu Picchu, located in Peru. It took approximately an hour to hike to the top. It was an incredible and challenging experience--one I'll never forget.

I've given birth seven times...naturally (see evidence to the right--aren't they cute?). Didn't even take a Tylenol. And three of the seven weighed in at 8 lbs. 10 oz. Amazing I can even walk upright today! Yeah, I'll admit, childbirth has probably been the most difficult, yet most rewarding accomplishment on my "challenging things to do" list.

I've run three 10K races...a long time ago.

In the summer of 2000 I lost 23 pounds using the Body-for-Life training and diet system. (I've since gained it all back and then some. That wasn't challenging at all.)

I've served as assistant nursery leader at church for 2+ years ('nuff said).

Over the past 6 years I've written and had published 4 LDS YA novels and 2 middle-grade novels. And while some would say (including myself, at times) that this was a challenging endeavor, as with all of the previously mentioned "challenging things," the experiences have simultaneously brought me the most happiness!

There's that old saying: "No Pain. No gain." And while I don't really like the negative connotation that goes with it, I do believe, however, that many of the most worthwhile things we will accomplish in this life come with a whole lotta work! Writing is no exception, but I do it, because I love it.

And as with so many other challenging things in life, the rewards are priceless!

Side Tracks

by Marsha Ward

I sent off my novel manuscript, laid back for a bit of down time, and was enjoying my Memorial Day weekend when I got a frantic call from Son, who needed some paperwork, if I had any, relating to an urgent personal matter.

Well, that put the kibosh on a leisure weekend. I've been looking for said paperwork ever since. Making a little progress, but not enough. I'll keep looking.

In the meantime, today I pulled up a manuscript I've had on the back burner. Tonight is my writer's group meeting, and I need something to read. Since this is the next manuscript I'll be working on, it's about time to dust it off and get back to work. You'll probably be hearing more about "Slim" in the weeks to come.

Wish me luck--both with the manuscript and the paperwork search. Thanks!

Creating Villains

By Tamra Norton

I've written six published novels and each one has at least one "villain" or "bad guy." They've ranged from mean girls and bullies to prissy prom queens and bad boys looking for nutin' but trouble. Basically, you could identify the "bad-guys" from my books within any given elementary school playground or high school cafeteria.

Even as an adult, you still remember the "villains" from your childhood and teenage years. If you're a writer you've likely written them into every story, and take great pleasure in creating ways for your main character to get even.

Sad, slightly satisfying, and true.

For my current work-in-progress I'm actually creating an honest-to-freaking-goodness, scare-your-pants-off, out-of-this-world, evil villain (or villainess--no spoilers here!) and I'm having so much fun!

And unlike my other stories, this evil villain starts out about as unassuming as a turnip in vegetable garden. The reader has no idea--for a while--that the kitty is actually a saber tooth tiger. Oh, there are some gradual hints along the way, but they are subtle, kind of like a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos--always leaving orange gunk on your fingers that you can't help but lick off, and then dig in the bag for more, more, more. Muahahahahahaaaaa....

Don't forget to check under your bed tonight before you go to sleep!

I Have Finished Trail of Storms!

by Marsha Ward

I don't know for sure how it is with other writers when they finish a project, but for me, completing Trail of Storms this evening brought elation, tears, and a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift of creativity, in that order.

Thank you, all you readers and critiquers who have put your souls into giving me advice. It is well and truly appreciated.

I already have a one-sentence summary written. I will write the one-page synopsis tomorrow, and then I WILL SEND IT OFF!

Now I've got to let the emotions drain out of my fingertips. I feel very weak, and very humbled.

Whew!

by Marsha Ward

Wow! It's been crazy around here.

Last week I was consumed with getting my novel broken down into chapters in the right places. I've been sadly absent from the blogosphere. I didn't even put up any author interviews. Perhaps tomorrow I can fix that.

Today was the deadline for members of the Whitney Academy to vote for the best examples in novels written by LDS authors. I'm glad to say I got my vote in before midnight!

Also, there must be some kind of twitching going on in the Internet, since two of my email accounts have been going haywire.

That matters to me because I began a new job that depends heavily on my ability to receive and send files back and forth to my employer. As a last resort, I had to utilize my third email account. Boo-hoo-hoo! Things will be better tomorrow, or as I heard Scarlett O'Hara say when I caught the last 45 minutes of Gone With the Wind the other night: "Tomorrow is another day!"

Love that movie! Love that musical score! Wish I'd seen the other three hours and fifteen minutes!

7 Things About Me

by Marsha Ward

Stephanie Black's "7 Things About Me" tag from the Six LDS Writers and a Frog Blog continues:

1) One of the great things that I've discovered about Blogger is the "Post Options" feature. It allows a poster to customize his or her delivery date and time. So, although I'm posting this a day late, to you it will appear that I'm a normal, on-time sort of person, with all my faculties, instead of an ADD-afflicted klutz. Ha!

Hmmm, I'll go back and make that Number 1. Heh-heh.

2) I finished the manuscript for my next novel yesterday, um, today, er, make that on Wednesday!

3) This is the third time I've "finished" it. It's a totally different book now than it was the first two times.

4) Now I can continue in the frantic novel-reading segment of time that, I suspect, will become a January and February Tradition.

5) That's because I'm a member of the Whitney Academy, and thus a judge in the final round for the Whitney Awards.

6) I'm a member of the Academy because I'm a member of LDStorymakers, Inc.

7) I need to send in my dues. Today! Thank goodness for PayPal!

Lost that Lovin' Feeling

I've been at this writing thing now for six and a half years. And I've always been a one-project-at-a-time writer. I wrote this way through my first five novels--and it worked well. I simply wouldn't start into a new project until I'd finished the current WIP (work in progress).

But life can get complicated. It did for me. I was asked to write a non-fiction book on homeschooling by a different publisher (which will hopefully be released in 2008--fingers crossed). I started into a picture book project (which will hopefully be released in 2008--fingers crossed). I went on a month-long book tour in 2006. I went on an agent quest in 2007, with several prospects that eventually fell flat. And school visits.... And marketing.... And more marketing.... And throughout all of this "other stuff" I managed to get half-way through two different manuscripts--one middle grade, and one LDS YA. I seriously felt like I had writer's ADD. I simply couldn't focus because I had so many "spoons" in so many different "pots," and yet there was still no dinner on the table!

Am I alone here? Do you ever get so many writing projects going that you feel like your head is spinning?

So one by one, I finished each project to the best of my ability. I mentioned the hopeful release dates of the homeschooling book, and the picture books (all in the hands now of the publishers), and I finally finished the middle-grade novel, MAKE ME A HOME, which will be released in Feb., 2008.

That leaves me with a half-written LDS YA novel. And there is a reason I left it for last. IT SUCKS! Okay, not really. :) It has many really fun moments. But overall, I think I was trying to write a book that just wasn't ME! And the plot has serious issues. I think I've figured out how to fix it, but it would take a major re-write, which some day, I hope to get to. But overall, I've completely lost that lovin' feeling for this manuscript. I'm not even sure I had it from the beginning. It was more like a blind date that just wouldn't end. I've never before felt like I was "fighting" with a manuscript, like I have with this one. Am I crazy?!!!!

So what do I do?

I keep writing--but NOT on the previously mentioned LDS YA manuscript (we've pretty much broken up at this point, maybe for good). But, please, don't cry for me. You see, I'm head-over-heels-and-tingly-all-over in love with my current WIP--a totally different LDS YA manuscript. And this one is ALL ME!!! I don't feel like I'm trying be some other writer when I work on this manuscript. And it feels pretty dang good. To quote my character, Allie in MAKE ME A HOME, "I feel chocolate-chip cookie good!"

I'm in love again!

(And again, I must ask the question--am I crazy?)

Contract Writing

I love to do contract writing. I've been getting more and more requests lately and it's been a ball. I've done a few keyword articles for people and recently had the opportunity to write a feature article on one of my best friends! You've got to check her site. She's a very talented artist!

Jennifer does what we'd all love to do. She hides out in her basement being creative all day while her husband takes care of the children. Okay, so she only paints a few hours a day, but her husband is able to stay home with her and handle the entire financial end of her business.

Her artwork is fabulous and she's recently got her website online. Check it out at www.jenniferrassmusson.com. She's got an online gallery and just started her own blog, mostly to show what she's working on next.

Anyway, I met with another friend and will be writing some company information for his website as soon as I get back from a writing conference this weekend. I'll post the link when we get the info online ... he's got a great product!

I also get to do a book/DVD review soon. Anyone heard of Rindin the Puffer? It's a brand new children's book/DVD/stuffed animal combo that's supposed to be wonderful for children! My sister raved about it, saying her two year old (who cannot sit still for more than 30 seconds) wanted to sit and watch it over and over. I've invited the entire neighborhood of children over to watch it with us and give me their feedback. I figured I really ought to consult the experts after all.

Well, onto pressing matters that I've postponed long enough today. I've got an author bio to finish and a CD to make with the finished portion of my upcoming novel on it for the writers conference. Anyone else going to the conference in St. George? Maybe we can meet up!

Also - so sorry to be a day late on this one. I went on a research trip for my novel only to realize as the water was cascading from the sky that the steep dirt road I didn't know I'd need wasn't passable in wet conditions. Perhaps another day.

Quiet time to write

This time of year I hear many of my writer friends express their excitement that summer is finally over, the kids are heading back to school, and now they will actually have some quiet time to write. A part of me is envious of this; the only quiet time--ever--in my house is in the middle of the night. You see, we are homeschoolers. We've been at it now for about 8 years...or is it 9?

Summertime is my care-free writing time. During the school year if I want to get writing in, it usually happens after my little ones are in bed (a.k.a. Quiet Time). Sometimes I can sneak off to my bedroom in the afternoon with my AlphaSmart and pound out a page or two. But often, because I was up late writing, I find that I'd rather take a nap than write. (sigh...)

I'm curious. When do YOU find quiet time to write? Do you even need quiet time to write? Do you write listening to music? Or do you need total silence?

Come to think of it, I can actually be quite productive writing in a noisy, busy Whataburger. I think the difference is that no one is tugging on my shirt asking for a cookie or asking me to tell their brother to quit calling them a stinkypoopooface!