What Can You Do About That?

What do you do if your computer is off limits most of the time and your workspace is disrupted? Can you shift to longhand for awhile? or will all your forward progress die?

I've had to answer these questions for the next couple of weeks.

The Situation:
We live in an "Old Lady House" that needs regular TLC. Check out this old blogpost for some more on the housework.  As you can see, it is always a work in progress.

And the time has come that we must refloor. We don't have a choice. We have to put down new sub flooring, carpet, and tile. The study is one of the rooms on the to do list.

The Solution:
I'm happy to say, I've figured out how to keep working. ; )
The writing desk I use to draft longhand has been moved to the solarium. I have a backlog of writing magazines I need to read and a book on parenting that I need to read for research for FRIENDLY FIRE. Add several other projects I've been putting off, and I'm being very productive while John paints, hammers, and works in the study, living room, dining room, etc.

So, what about you?
Do you have contingency plans for a "rainy day" of writing?

Writer's Block: Scientific Proof

We've all had a bout of Writer's Block--that dangerous time when no words come to mind and the page remains blank. Some prolific writers like Diana Gabaldon claim that there is no such thing. Her method for avoiding the problem is to have multiple projects open at all times. When one slows down, she just switches to the other and keeps on writing.

While I'll admit to having multiple projects--a devotional and 5 novels at last count--I do find that some days none of them seem to be open for business in my front brain. I do write down any idea that comes out of my back brain into the light of day no matter which project it belongs to, but still some days, the door between to two parts of my brain is closed, locked up tight. No amount of effort allows me to find the key.

Now there's scientific proof that Writer's Block exists in the Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis. Check out the following article:
"The Unsuccessful Self-Treatment of a Case of  'Writer's Block' "
If you've every struggled with writer's block, you owe it to yourself to read this article.

Enjoy! ; )

ETA: For more fun with Writer's Block, try this A Word A Day entry. ; )

Head Lights for Dark Roads

A couple of years ago I met an amazing woman at a meeting of the Carrollton Creative Writers Club. Diane Quimby is a survivor of a traumatic brain injury and she had an astounding story to tell. Her perseverance served her well during therapy and during the writing of her memoir. It's been my honor to help her by editing Head Lights for Dark Roads. Now her story is available HERE. You won't be sorry if you read Diane's book. You'll be inspired! All proceeds from the sale of the book will be donated to TBI organizations.

Diane Quimby’s inspiring personal narrative details life with a traumatic brain injury, and invites the reader along on her challenging journey. Along the way, the reader meets fellow patients and shares in Diane’s unexpected life changing spiritual lessons learned on the road to recovery. This is one road trip the reader won’t soon forget.

Head Lights for Dark Roads is a deeply personal account of recovery with a traumatic brain injury. Be prepared to be deeply moved to laugh, cry, or wince…I know I did! This book is perfect for brain injured person, family members of the injured, or for health providers working in the field of brain injury. It provides a necessary context and poignant understanding of the pathway to recovery. Absolutely phenomenal!

Damond Logsdon, PhD

Join Diane on her person journey of survival of a horrific car wreck, injuring both her body and brain, as told in her amazing book, Head Lights for Dark Roads. You will enter the mind of a brain injured survivor through her vivid words of humor and sadness. Her journey will guide you to a brighter future of recovery and an understanding of God’s plan for your new life post traumatic brain injury.

Ann Boriskie, Director & Founder, Brain Injury Peer Visitor Association®

Check out Diane Quimby's blog at Head Lights for Dark Roads.

Three Little Words

source- Amazon.com

Research is a necessity of writing no matter what genre you WIP is. Historicals demand research into the era they are set in. Mysteries and suspense usually need police or detective procedure. SF is based on science in some way and fantasy has myth as its underpinning. It's the little truths that make stories and characters breath.

My WIP is no different. For example, my main character is a retired history teacher and I didn't have to go far to research her background and life since I'm a retired history teacher. ; ) But the character who changes my MC's life is an abused foster child. I've researched the foster care system and interviewed foster and adoptive parents and the case workers who work with them. That left the main research I needed to be from a foster child's POV and that interview would require an entirely different level of sensitivity.

Thankfully, the foster child came to me. The Department of Family and Children Services case worker I've interviewed suggested I read Ashley Rhodes Courter's Three Little Words. Courter is an amazing young woman who spent ten years in the foster care system of Florida. Her memoir is harrowing and revealing. With a foster child's first person testimony to refer to, my plot has deepened. Samantha's reactions have become based in reality. My story's layers have grown in complexity. I'm grateful for the help to make Samantha a more three dimensional character.

Research can take so many different forms.

Where do you get your little truths to layer into your story?
What is your dream research source that you need to make your story real?

I can only wish that you find as good a source as I have. Happy digging!

Dream a Little Dream with Me

Zan Marie Steadham copyright 2010

To write is to dream....

That is how my morning pages started off this morning and what followed was an outpouring of understanding of how my stories are all connected. Cherry Hill is a lovely town, but hiding in it's streets and houses are all flavors of nightmare, abuse, and wounds unhealed. And all of this comes from a simple dream of a retired teacher meeting an abused child during a church-hosted party for foster children. There's so much fertile ground for my books. All the Cherry Hill stories come from that dream. When Laura Grace met Samantha in that dream, I found a town full of hidden stories. Stories that had been hidden for various reasons.

Laura Grace tries to hide how much pain she has lived due to grief for her husband and childlessness. Samantha hides from a life of abuse. To feel would be beyond painful, but to hide means the wound isn't open and subject to further damage. But it isn't open to healing either.

Rosemary hides abuse because if she admits it's happening, she will have to say that the appearance of domestic bliss is all a lie. If she can hide the pain behind the perfect family facade, she thinks she will be able to control it. Her son Dean hides his abuse because to show fear invites a heavier load of it from his father and older brothers.

Mack hides long ago abuse among the memories of combat and his grief for Sandra. It's another pain that can't heal until opened to sunshine and new love.

I could go on with several more of my characters' hidden hurts.

What about you? Have dreams influenced your stories?
Do your characters have a few dreams or nightmares that need exploring?

Beware! Image Copyrights

There's been a flurry of interest in blogging circles about copyright of images used from the internet. Check out Roni Loren's post about her law suit over use of images on her blog. Another great summation of the problem and some creative methods of using images can be found at Denise Covey's L'Aussie Writer.  I know I don't have the expertise to add to their wonderful info. Both suggests using Creative Commons or other photo sharing sources.

You may have noticed some changes on In the Shade of the Cherry Tree. Gone is the main image of sunlit cherries on a tree. I've replaced it with my photo of leaves from my own tree with some store-bought cherries. This version is on my mahogany dining table. I've took several different versions and some that are just a plate full of cherries to use in various ways. I've also taken down the pics I've used throughout my blog. I think the one I hated losing the most was the Marines in their dress blue uniforms. There is some question about badges for awards and blog contests, too. I don't know the answer to that yet. If I hear a definitive word, I'll let you know.

That said, I wholeheartedly believe in copyrights. I depend on them for my words and I can't fault photographers and other artists for wanting the same for their creative output. So from now on, unless I can take the picture myself, I'll forgo using an image.

What have you heard about this issue?
Do you have any ideas about sources of images that are okay for use?

Awards Season

I saw the Prime Time Emmy Nominations last Thursday morning little knowing that I was in Award Season myself. ; ) Both Deniz at The Girdle of Melian and Lara at Romance with an Edge have awarded me lately. Thanks to both of them for thinking of me. ; )

First up is the The Booker Award for blogs that talk about books, reading, or writing at least 50% of the time. The recipient must share their five favorite books, and pass the award along to five other awesome blogs!

• The Outlander series (Yes, all of them) by Diana Gabaldon
• The Vorkosigan series (Yes, again, all of them) by Lois McMaster Bujold
• The Challion series (You know the drill by now) by Lois McMaster Bujold
• On Folly Beach by Karen White
• The Skolian Empire series by Catherine Asaro

So sue me, there's more than five books in the list. ; )

Next, is the Be Inspired award. This award comes with 10 questions

1. What is the name of your book? FRIENDLY FIRE

2. Where did the idea for your book come from? A dream--I'm not kidding! I woke from a nap with the first scene fully laid out in my mind.

3. In what genre would you classify your book? That's a hard one. It's either mainstream or women's fiction. I'll have to fine tune it later.

4. If you had to pick actors to play your characters in a movie rendition, who would you choose? Laura Grace is Kathy Bates and her romantic interest at the end of the book is Paulo Szot.

5. Give us a one-sentence synopsis of your book. Those closest to us inflict our deepest wounds, and none are so obvious as the ones of Samantha Smith, an abused foster child, or so hidden as those of Laura Grace Chandler, the retired widow, who will help her adopted daughter heal, finding healing for her own wounds as well. (I've been told that the first clause should get lost!)

6. Is your book already published or represented? No, I've got to finish it first--that and the three other books that follow it in the Cherry Hill series.

7. How long did it take you to write your book? Can I get back to you on that one? So far, four years and counting.

8. What other books in your genre do you compare it to? Or, readers of which books would enjoy reading yours? Some of Jodi Picoult's books or The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh

9. Which authors inspired you to write this book? That's hard to narrow down. For the short list, I have to include Diana Gabaldon.

10. Tell us anything that might pique our interest in your book. FRIENDLY FIRE is set in a small Georgia town, but the problems its citizens face are universal--abuse in all it's many forms. That healing is available is the real lesson.

Last, but not least is the Fabulous Blog Ribbon. There are 3 sets of 5 questions for this one: 5 of your most fabulous moments, 5 things you love, and 5 things you hate.

5 most fabulous moments:

-my wedding day 35 years ago

-meeting one my all-time favorite author

-holding my two devotional books in my hands for the first time

-snuggling with kitties and puppies

-retiring so I could write

5 things I love:

-my husband

-my mother

-books

-tea

-writing

5 things I hate:

-migraines

-fatigue

-bugs

-weak wrists

-that there are only 24 hours in a day

Finally, here are the blogs I'm tagging for all these awards:

Women's Fiction Writers

The Quintessentially Questionable Query Experiment

Dispatches After Midnight

Past Perfect

S. P. Bowers



Setting--Finding Cherry Hill (And a new blog to check out)

Not matter how great a character is, he or she has to be somewhere. That's where setting comes in. Much of the time, the setting isn't a real place. So, how do you describe a town that isn't there? I got the chance to hear Patricia Sprinkle talk about this very craft point on Saturday at the Turner Cassity Literary Festival. Here's a summary of her points:

• Novels need to be about a small community even if set in a large city--the apartment building, or a work place, etc.
• Be sure to include all the senses in the description
• What's unique about the setting?
• What contemporary issues impinge on the characters?
• What universal themes are the characters facing?

All of these help define the setting.

I've been working on Cherry Hill, the small town in which my WIPs are set for some time now. It's a combination of three towns in my area--Carrollton, Temple, and Villa Rica--with a pinch of Cartersville thrown in for good measure. If you know Georgia, you have a good idea where Cherry Hill is located. ; )

Two years ago, I was the facilitator for a house party at Books and Writers Forum. In the Writers Exercises, we regularly spend time in a setting created by one of us and have a mad ad lib writing session. Sometimes we discover deep motive in our characters. In the Cherry Hill House Party, I hosted other writers in my setting. After a bit over a week we created 180,000 + words set in my little town and I learned a ton about Cherry Hill. If you want to read a bit of that story, take the link above, but I warn you, you'll be drawn into a wild and wonderful ride.

Lately, I've been using the settings I created for the house party and repurposing them for my WIP. I thought a taste of Cherry Hill on the Fourth of July might be a good way to show "describing a town that isn't there." You might notice a certain Master Gunnery Sergeant in the crowd. ; )

What's unique about your setting?

Do you have any suggestions or resources on setting?

Also, I'd love to announce a new blogger--Joann Dunn at Dispatches After Midnight. Go by and check her out. You'll love her humor.

           The antique bell clanged as I let the door shut behind me. Sweet vanilla, cinnamon, and all the aromas of fresh baked cakes, cookies, and pastry welcomed me.

“Momma, it smells just like home!” Samantha’s voice rose on the heavenly scented air, but her eyes clouded just a minute.

I couldn’t blame her. I hadn’t baked since May. That was one of the doctor’s orders. I didn’t have to like them, but I had to abide by them. My daughter needed me. Joy rose as the thought hugged me along with the scents of the bakery. “The bakery hasn’t changed in the fifty years.” The dark wood paneled walls enclosed over two dozen wrought-iron tables and chairs with curling heart-shaped backs. The wood seats were worn shiny by use.

I stepped up to the counter with its old curved-glass fronts that displayed dozens of choices—six different kinds fudge, thumb cookies with pastel spots of icing in their centers, cream horns, brownies, and petit fours.

“Do they have the little cakes, the ones with the rose buds?” She leaned on the glass, looking for them.

“Yes, there on the end.”

Samantha traced the etching on the glass of the case. It was old because the name was the original—Cherry Hill Bakery. “Why did they change the name?”

“Well bakery doesn’t quite cover it all any more now that they’ve added gourmet coffee and tea.” The front glass used the same old-style lettering, but the name was now Cherry and Bean Fine Pastries, Coffees, and Teas. “I swear they’ve not changed the recipes,” I said, and placed an order for my favorite treat—a cream horn and Irish breakfast tea.

Mona Crossley’s withered face greeted us on the terrace when we emerged back into the July heat with our treats. “Ready for the parade?” She patted the table beside her. “Best seats in Cherry Hill are right here.”

I should have known that Mona would be here early finding the perfect place under the shade of the old oak. “Did you save that for us?”

“I hoped you’d come, but I know Doc Bryant’s got you on a short leash.” She grimaced. “Bet he won’t let you bake yet.” Her eyebrows arched.

I shook my head and lifted a shoulder in a light shrug. What could I say that Mona didn’t know about cardiologists and their unreasonable rules. “He couldn’t say no to the parade. Not when he’s going to be in marching in it.”

We had the perfect vantage point. The bakery sat on the high side of the square decked out in red, white, and blue for the occasion. American flags fluttered from every wrought-iron lamppost. People had spread blankets and folding chairs out on the grass around the gazebo that served as Cherry Hill’s main stage. Little kids ran up and down the walks with flags and patriotic pinwheels fluttering in their hands.

The red, white, and blue bunting on the iron rail lifted a little as the breeze freshened.

Samantha had settled into the chair beside me, but she wasn’t looking at the patriotic decorations or the flowers rioting in the beds around the square. Her head swiveled as she watched the people gathering, a slight frown puckering her brows. Then she lit up.

Dean eased his way among the crowd on the bakery’s terrace until he stood beside Samantha. “Hi.”

“I thought you’d never get here.”

He shrugged, then winked at her. “The car was blocked in by all these folks at the parade.” He slipped an arm around her waist and planted a light kiss on her lips.

Surprise washed over me. I hadn’t seen them kiss since New Year’s Eve. Proximity was building the fire Rosemary and I had wondered about. Well, I’d wondered; Rosemary worried. And there she was a few steps behind the kids, her brow puckered with twin lines. She looked at me, nodding at the kids leaning against each other. What could I say? I nodded and shrugged. Her brows rose, her month firming and I got the message—we’d talk later. It wasn’t like we hadn’t talked this one to death already.

Samantha looped her arm around Dean. Looking over the square, she smiled. “Isn’t it exciting? I just love the parade. Especially all the men who put on their uniforms.” She pointed across the square at a short uniformed man.

I followed her gesture to a Marine in full dress blues. His coat was dark midnight blue, trimmed in red. Its white web belt had a gold waist plate buckle. The pants were a sky blue with a red stripe down the outer seams. Ribbons and metals on his chest winked in the sun.

“He’s a Marine, right?” She glanced at me. “He’s got to be hot! Aren’t their uniforms are usually wool? Look at that high collar.”

Before I could answer, Dean leaned over the rail. “The parade’s here!”

I bit my lip and watched the man. He stood back straight and chest out. Something in the line of his shoulders told me he had served a long time. His right, white-gloved hand stiffly rose to the bill of his white cap as the color guard of National Guardsmen from the major branches of service flanked the flag that led the parade into the square. Its red and white stripes and blue star-strewn field flapped, and the gold braid and tassels hanging from the pole swayed with the marching steps of the flag bearer. Sunlight glinted off the eagle standard on top, and I squinted in the glare. People quickly removed their hats and caps, laying their right hands over their hearts. Sprinkled throughout the crowd, military veterans of five wars stood at attention, their hands raised to their brows in salute.

The crowd leaned out and looked down the street as the sound of the band grew louder. Cheers broke out and applause echoed in waves along the building fronts with the high school band’s blaring rendition of the National Anthem.

The first float was greeted with a collective sigh from the crowd. The centerpiece was devastatingly simple—empty combat boots held an upended rifle crowned with a combat helmet. It was the classic honor accorded the fallen in battle. “Freedom Isn’t Free” as the sign on the side said. Everyone here owed so much to those who had fought for the country’s freedom and it was only right that the onlookers remember the price paid for this day of celebration.

I looked back at the Marine. His lean face was set. The float wasn’t a symbolic reminder of sacrifice for him. It meant fallen brothers.

Then the rest of the parade came into the square. Every church, civic group and business in Cherry Hill had tried to out-patriotic all the rest. But the first float was the best—as always.