Ginger's Six Sentence Sunday

Howdy.  I missed ya'll last week because I had house guests.  It's rude to wander off and play on the computer, so I missed posting and I also missed reading the great snippets I follow each week.  But, I'm back today with another six from my current WIP, Hattie's Hero.  When you finish reading my six, head back to Six Sentence Sunday for more links.  What a great way to spend an afternoon.  :)

The last time we visited Hattie, she had just met with Mr. Franklin who took her home to meet the Mrs.  He wasn't very tactful...and in answer to someone's comment...his attempt at whispering failed.  Sometimes the dratted seventh sentence holds a key.  :) This week, the women are sharing a cup of tea as part of the interview for Hattie to accompany the family on the wagon train trek to California, and she's just been asked if the compensation is fair. 

Here's this week's six:

“Oh, yes ma’am. My expectations are minimal, as are my belongings. I assure you, you won’t be disappointed if you select me.”

“I believe you, Miss Carson, and I like your gumption.”  Mrs. Franklin drained the last of her tea and placed the cup and saucer back on the silver tray. “The first order of business is to make sure you understand this won’t be an easy undertaking. I would hate for you to decide somewhere in the middle of nowhere that you weren’t cut out for the job.”

 Hope you enjoyed my six. The cover I've shared is the proposed cover, but the more I write, the more it isn't fitting as I hoped it would.  I've changed directions, and although the book starts off in the old west, Hattie time-travels to modern day.  I look forward to the comments, which are all usually very encouraging.  I hope you continue to follow Hattie's saga and are as excited as I am to get it finished.  I'm closing in on the ending.  :)

Ginger's Six Sentence Sunday

Time for another six from my current WIP, Hattie's Hero, a western historical time-travel.  The picture is from my western blog logo at Cowboy Kisses.  Isn't he dreamy?

When you've finished leaving a comment (hint, hint), please had back to Six Sentence Sunday for more links.

Set up reminder: Hattie has grown up in an orphanage, answered an ad she found at the mercantile, and has just finished interviewing with the mister of the household and is now meeting the wife.

Mr. Franklin yanked his watch from his pocket again and checked the time. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the matter of caring for the children. I have business to tend involving the sale of the house and furniture.” Stepping closer to his wife, he leaned toward her ear. “She comes from the orphanage with no recommendations. Don’t confuse particulars with pity.”  

Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you'll come back next week.  I love sharing, and I'm definitely hooked on a few of the stories offered by others.

Ginger's Six Sentence Sunday

Hi, and welcome back to Dishin' It Out.  I was on a little hiatus last week, and I sure missed following my favorites on SSS.  Today, I'm continuing with my current WIP, Hattie's Hero, which will  be an historical time-travel if I ever get it finished.  It started with a YA heroine, but I fear she's going to be a senior citizen before long.  *lol* Just a quick reminder; Hattie is preparing to leave the orphanage, answering an ad she found posted at Cronin's mercantile.

Here's my offering, and I hope you enjoy it:

 

[Hattie's] Her palms turned moist the minute she spied a dapper gentleman standing outside the mercantile. He wore the black Coachman’s hat Mister Cronin had indicated he would.

Despite her churning innards, she closed the gap between them on leaden legs and managed a weak smile. His tailored charcoal frock coat, starched white shirt and perfectly pressed trousers indicated a man of means. A thick moustache, broad shoulders, and angular jaw made him quite attractive, but clearly impatient if his tapping foot was any indication. A glance down at her tacky apparel brought warmth to her cheeks. If her employment rested on her looks… 

Don't forget to head back to Six Sentence Sunday and check out the links to more sites.  This is a really fun weekly event, so I hope you come back for a visit.  Don't forget to leave a comment.  You never know when I'll pick a name for something from my backlist.  :)

Ginger's Six Sentence Sunday

Since my site seemed to pick up interest with my time-travel, Sisters in Time, today I'm switching gears to my current WIP, Hattie's Hero which started as a western historical but has shockingly become another time-travel romance.  I'll be adding snippets as I create the story, so hopefully SSS will inspire me to hurry up and finish. As a "pantser", I'm discovering Hattie to be the hardest heroine I've worked with yet, so I appreciate your visit and comments.  Don't forget to go back to SSS and visit other sites where you'll find some great shares.

Set Up:  Planning to leave the orphanage, Hattie stands with a valise in hand and surveys the room filled with sleeping children.  Her heart's heavy, but as the oldest orphan there, it's time for her to begin new memories.

Here's my six from the opening chapter:

She [Hattie] had no recollection of life before coming to the orphanage and very few pleasant memories. The meager belongings she’d packed consisted of a second gray smock identical to the one she wore, another pair of stockings, well-worn pantalets, and a chemise yellowed with age. The only shoes she owned were on her feet. She stared down at the scuffed toes and sighed. The paper thin soles provided little protection, and she’d mended one of the laces by knotting the break. Would she ever own a pair that hadn’t been worn by someone else?

Thanks for coming by, and I hope you'll be back with encouragement to forge on with Hattie's journey and what lies ahead for her.

To The Jolly Fat Man in the Red Suit

Dear Santa,

I know it's last minute and all, but I wonder if you can bring me the thing I really need most right now...my muse.  While you're at it, can you please bring a leash so I can keep track of her...or him.  The sweet little darling keeps wandering off and leaving me and Hattie, high and dry.  My muse is what/who keeps story ideas flowing, and usually speaks through my main character.  Since I'm a pantser...what? You don't know what a pantser is? It's said that we in that category write by the 'seat of our pants' instead of plotting out our stories.  In other words, I sit at the computer, fingers poised on the keyboard and wait for my heroine to tell me her story.  I'm not hearing anything and that's not good.

Hattie either stepped on a rusty nail along the Oregon trail and got a severe case of lockjaw, or I'm stalled again.  I've been trying to 'show' this story...oh, I've probably confused you again.  As an author, we 'show' our readers the story, rather than telling it.  In my books, you'll smell the gingerbread, feel the wind against your chubby little cheeks, enjoy the warmth and crackling of the fireplace...oops...maybe that's not a good idea at this time of the year.  Don't want to sear those other chubby little cheeks.  *lol*

But I digress.  I've been trying to show this story for months now.  Even have the cover art ready, but fat lot of good it'll do me if I can never finish the first draft.  You know, I'm not getting any younger here, and neither are you.  Thought about retirement yet?  Let me tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be.  I was more productive when I had a career...and more organized.  Last year I had a ton of new releases, this coming year...nothing, nada, zip, nil, zero!

So, if you have room in that big ol' velvet bag of yours, can you please cram my muse on top and schedule it for drop off here in Gallatin?  Although I don't set goals for the new year, I do hope to jumpstart Hattie again and keep her moving.  At this rate she's never going to get to California. Why don't I set goals, you ask?  Past experience shows failure to meet them depresses me. Why set myself up for more stress?  Oh, and speaking of stress, a little Xanax too, if you have room. 

I guess it would be rude of me not to include my best wishes for a joyous holiday season, although it doesn't sound like you're going to get much best until the 26th.  Happy flying and Feliz Navidad.  (listening to the song on Pandora.)

When is Enough Enough?

Becoming an author did nothing to enhance my joy in reading.  In fact, as I've learned rules to apply to my own style, I find glaring examples of said faux pas in the writing of other's.  What used to be an enjoyable pastime has now become a struggle to turn off my internal editor and stop looking for problem areas.

I know other authors suffer the same dilemma, but I have to ask, how do we stop that infernal red pen that lives in our head?  Does it ever run out of ink?

Funny, I can't seem to self-edit with any degree of accuracy, but if another author uses passive voice, head hops, or duplicates words within a paragraph, I'm on it like white on rice.  *smile*  New rules crop up every day, it seems, so I always have new things to seek and bitch about.

The biggest complaint I have recently, is when is enough enough?  Do we really need to tell the reader our character clenched his teeth IN FRUSTRATION, or is the fact that he's clenching his teeth a hint to his emotions?  Authors tend to ignore the rule...one I did even know existed until it was explained to me...RUE=Resist the Urge to Explain.

Stories are fraught with more information than readers need to figure things out, but is that a bad thing.  Does it really distract them from the story...do they come to a skidding halt and widen their eyes at "slowly limped" when no one really limps fast?  As writer's we are encouraged to avoid "ly" words and use stronger verbs to show action...example, "she excitedly said" might be "she yelled.  Instead of having her raise her hands in frustration, I might decide to have her clench her fists until her nails dig into her palms.  There's always a variation, and some call it style or voice.  Often, there are times when an "ly" word lends clarity to the situation, and in my opinion, enhance the story.  You can't always find that right word that convey your meaning.  Do readers actually keep count?

The biggest dilemma for me as an author is keeping up with the never-ending rules that continue to crop up everyday and then decide which ones work for me and which don't.  Of course, writers are also governed by house rules.  Some publishers limit the number of exclamation points you can use, some forbid internal thoughts, some encourage them.  Life just keeps getting more and more confusing.  Am I the only one who feels this way?  If you really want to be confused, join a critique group and be exposed to the rules everyone has learned.  How does one decide which suggestions merit thought and which are which coming from someone who hasn't been around long enough to know better?  Don't use "she," use the character's name, "don't use the character's name, use a pronoun.  Geez Louise!

I can't remember where I put my car keys at any given moment, but I'm supposed to recall which publisher allows what, who wants twelve point fonts as opposed to fourteen, when to use "Chapter One," or just "One", or if it's Tuesday, is it alright to post to Romance Cafe or Coffee Time.  Honestly, no wonder dementia strikes so many seniors.  It's protection from all these blasted rules.

Just to test the water...here's an excerpt from my latest WIP.  Did I tell too much, did I confuse you, have I mastered anything at all in ten years of writing?  Trust me, I know better than to expect everyone to see my style as their cup of tea.  No matter what you write, some will gush over it, some will hate it.  There's just no making everyone happy.

Excerpt from Hattie's Hero:

Hattie rode until the rocking wagon lulled the children to sleep then slid over the tailgate, intent on walking a while.  The sun beat down with relentless heat, making her thankful for the wide-brimmed bonnet from Abby.  An occasional breeze rifled the knee-high grass and brought momentary respite, but sweat adhered her gingham dress to her like cloying hands.  How the children slept inside the stifling confines of the wagon puzzled her. At least, outside the air moved, and she enjoyed the break from care taking. Lost in thought, she trudged onward.

A horse’s snort blew moist air on her neck, and she jumped.  She gazed up into the warm brown eyes of Tom Wainright.

He doffed his hat.  “Good day, Miss Hattie.”

At the deep timbre of his voice, goose bumps peppered her arms despite the midday heat.

“Good day, Deputy.”

“It’s a mite warm to be walkin’, would you care for a ride?”

As inviting the thought of being cradled in his arms or sitting behind and hugging him might be, she was warm enough already.  Besides, she probably didn’t smell like a budding rose at the moment.

“No, thank you.” She smiled up at him. “I enjoy walking.  I don’t get much time away from the children, so this is my opportunity to reflect.”

“Oh…then I’m sorry to intrude.”

She stumbled on a stone, but kept her balance.  “N-no, you aren’t intruding.  I simply wanted to explain why I wasn’t accepting your generous offer.”

“Speaking of offers, I wonder if you might like to dine with me this evening.  I’m not much of a cook, but I can whip up some bacon and eggs, and the fellas I’m travelin’ with tell me I make a mean cup a joe.”

Her heart hitched.  She scanned the area for Billy.  Would he be upset if he saw her talking to Tom?  Probably, and that concerned her.  Then, Abby’s words echoed in her ears, reminding her Billy hadn’t actually asked for her hand. Stood to reason she wasn’t spoken for. So why did she feel so awkward?

Six Sentence Sunday

I apologize for not reciprocating visits last week, but I wasn't feeling well again.  I promise to do my best today.  I'm going to share another six sentences from my western historical WIP, Hattie's Hero, as it encourages me to write more, and faster.  I need to finish this story and get it published.  Hattie's wasted time by being silent and she's finally talking to me again.  Yippee!

Remember, Hattie is young, naive and experiencing new feelings around boys.  She's grown up in a orphanage and has always been the older child.  Now, striking out on her own as caretaker for the three Franklin children on a wagon train to California, she's attracted to Billy Monroe, the young man  Mr. Franklin has hired to accompany the family for extra protection and help.  Enter another handsome young man in the form of Deputy, Tom Wainright, and Hattie is even more confused...especially about why she is drawn to Tom when she likes Billy so much.  Here's one of the latest scenes between her and Billy after she's met Tom:

 

Billy side-stepped away and removed his arm from around Hattie.  He flashed a sheepish grin, wondering if she would say anything about his bold move.  The redness in her cheeks and the manner in which she shifted from foot to foot showed her uneasiness without her muttering a word.  He steeled himself and gathered his nerve.

“I thought he was payin’ a little more attention to you than he should have.  I wanted him to know that someone is lookin’ out for you so he didn’t get any notion that you’re…."

For more snippets from other authors, click back to Six Sentence Sunday and enjoy yourself.  I'm number 125 this week, and the number is still growing. You'll get addicted, so watch out.  :)  Want more?  Come back next week.

That Which Does Not Kill Us...

Before I even started Hattie's Hero, I had an stock image I'd cherished for quite some time that I'd purchased for use.  Years ago, I had a mishap with a publisher, and in the blink of an eye,  my new cover, featuring that image, was stripped from me, and I was banned from the group.  I still can't tell you what happened except that my name was mentioned in an email that was sent to the loop by mistake.  Nothing big...just nice support from other members who realized the moderator didn't set a welcoming tone.   I was new to the group and hadn't had much experience, so the whole thing left a really bad taste in my mouth, and that of the several others who got caught up in the whole mess.  Luckily, the phrase, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger," is true.  I almost threw in the towel, but I didn't.  I'm still here.  :)

Last year at the Muse It Up Conference, I used that awful experience to conduct a one-day workshop on the Pitfalls of Publishing.  I urged, and still do, all authors to research their publishing choices before they sign on the dotted line.  Getting out of a bad contract can be more work than getting a divorce,and there are some publishers who aren't really ready to work on behalf of those they sign.  At best, making a bad deal can make you question your own worth. Thankfully, today you have even more choices because the world of e-readers has encouraged many talented writers to self-publish, and the stigma involved with doing that has faded.  I'm considering that option for Hattie's when I've finished.

I've had three bad experiences.  Not because I'm a bad risk, but because those who contracted me didn't have their ducks in a row and should never have gotten into the business. I fault myself because I should have done what I'm urging you to do. I'm not naming names, just warning new authors who are considering going the contracted route to talk with those in the know--the authors who have gone before you.  If they signed, are they happy?  Would they sign again?  Authors who are involved with the publisher are you best source of real information. They probably won't offer, but when asked, I've never been denied "the scoop."  Don't rely on a second-hand gossip; there's too much of it circulating.

Another helpful venue is using your search engine.  History really doesn't die.  Google (Chrome, IE, or whatever you use) the name of your prospective publishing company and the people involved.  You can find tons of information, good and bad.  I've found that places like Piers Anthony and Preditors and Editors can be just as harmful as they are helpful because they often carry reports from disgruntled authors or very little information at all, as evidenced by Muse It Up Publishing on the P&E site, which is one of mine and seems to be thriving. No matter where you go, you'll find at least one, so don't  rely on talking to just a solo person...expand your horizons.  It's your life, and trust me, you want to be in control of it.

After ten years, I'm still learning the process.  I don't know everything, but I've certainly learned a lot, and there are things I definitely would have done differently.  Number one...I wouldn't have let myself be bullied about using an I-Stock photo that anyone can purchase.  Threats of a lawsuit turned me timid, and I gave up something I loved...not once, but twice.  Well, not again.  I'm happy to share the beautiful cover my talented friend, cover artist, and fellow author, Dawne Dominique, created for me. She's amazing, talented, and reasonable, and probably really busy since she's done all the majority of my Eternal Press Covers and those of others there.

  Presenting with great pride and anticipation... imagine a drum roll.  Now all I have to do is finish the book.  *lol*  Yes, it's another western historical, this time using YA characters who grow into their own through the experiences they share.

Six Sentence Sunday

Comments in my blog the other day indicated I might have made a boo boo in identifying today's blog as SEX Sentence Sunday.  It surely was a slip of the finger, but I decided to leave it since the majority of the snippets I've read are laced with desire, sex, and lots of heat.  Me, I'm better at sweet romance with a hint of allure and desire, so with that said, I'm sharing six sentences from Hattie's Hero.  Until very recently, Hattie and I weren't speaking, and finally, after way too long, she and I have restarted our journey together to end this novel.  I feel confident the storyline is going to be one to hold your interest. 

Let me set the scene:  Hattie is traveling with a family to California via wagon train.  She's grown up in a local orphanage and nabbed the job of helping out with the three small Franklin children as her way to escape and get a life of her own.  Billy Monroe has also been hired by to accompany the family, adding extra security and assistance for the mister.  Of course, Hattie is naive and inexperienced, and Billy has been on his own for quite a while.  Right when they are discovering the pleasantries of keeping company, another young man shows up and threatens to stop their romance dead in its tracks.

Here are my six sentences:

He sauntered into camp, rivaling Billy in every way. Sun kissed skin, dark hair, broad shoulders, narrow waist…even the rugged good looks.  Rather than sky blue eyes, sparkling chocolate ones peered from beneath the dust-powdered brim of his hat. The light reflected from the gold star pinned to his shirt. Hattie slid Zachary off her hip and stood him on the ground.  She smoothed her skirt with dampened palms and flashed a nervous grin.  “H-hello.”

 If you want to read more, visit Six Sentence Sunday and click on the authors' links.  You're bound to get addicted.  Thanks for coming back this week and I hope you'll come back again.  I can't wait to finish Hattie's store and share it.  I already have a stunning cover and I'll be sharing that too as I get closer to completion.

Blog Hop Thursday

Today's Blog Hop question is:  Do you write in logical order?

Honestly, there is nothing logical about the manner in which I write.  My stories are character driven, meaning unless my characters talk to me and lead me, I have no idea where I'm going.  So far, I'm had a great report with my leading men and women, but Hattie from my current WIP is giving me fits.  I just may have to start another story to show her who's boss.  *smile*

I really like how this story starts and I'd love to see it through, but right now, we're stuck in a Conestoga just entering Independence, MO to join a wagon train.  I think the site of the only other city she's been to has struck her speechless. Just to set the scene; Hattie, born in the local orphanage, has grown up never knowing her parents.  She's the oldest of all the children there and while working part time at the mercantile, she notices an ad for someone to travel with a local family to California and help care for their three children.  Here's a sample from Hattie's Hero:

A blonde woman, dressed in a floral gown with a high collar and fitted waist, descended the steps with elegant grace. Slim but curvy, and only a wee bit taller than Hattie, she approached and extended her hand. “I’m Abigail Franklin. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Hattie ran her dampened palm down the front of her shift before she accepted the woman’s offered hand. “Hattie Carson. And it’s my pleasure.”

Mr. Franklin yanked his watch from his pocket again and checked the time. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the matter of caring for the children. I have business to tend involving the sale of the house and furniture.” Stepping closer to his wife, he leaned toward her ear. “She comes from the orphanage with no recommendations. Don’t confuse particulars with pity.”  His attempt at whispering failed. With a touch to the brim of his hat, Mister Franklin disappeared out the front door, but not before rolling his eyes one more time at Hattie.

She gulped down a swallow and considered leaving.

“Please, come into the parlor and let’s get better acquainted.” Mrs. Franklin gestured toward the airy room to her right. Her friendly smile and face compensated for her husband’s brashness.

Hattie stepped inside and gawked at the blue settee and the armed floral chairs. Their rich mahogany matched the table between them and the mantle above the stone fireplace. Nothing in the orphanage coordinated with such perfection.

“Please have a seat, dear.”  Mrs. Franklin’s voice drew Hattie’s wide-eyed wonder back to the center of the room.

 After the missus sat, Hattie perched on the chair across from her.

“So, tell me why you answered our advertisement.”  Mrs. Franklin directed the question to Hattie, but nodded at the woman who stood in the doorway, wearing a white apron over her drab olive dress. Most of her graying hair hid beneath the white cap upon her head. She entered and deposited a tray bearing a teapot and two dainty cups and saucers on the table between the two women. She left without a word.

Mrs. Franklin poured a cup. “Tea?”  She offered the delicate china to Hattie.

“Yes, please.”  Hattie grasped the edge of the saucer with trembling fingers and struggled not to spill.

After pouring herself a cup, Mrs. Franklin leaned back. “Where were we?  Oh yes, why you’re here…”  She sipped the steaming brew.

Hattie placed her tea on the table and took a deep breath. Her insides felt as knotted as her mended shoelace. “I may as well be honest, as I’m sure your husband just informed you, I’ve lived in the local orphanage for far too long. I have no family that I know of, and I’m anxious for a new beginning. My entire life has been devoted to helping the younger children adjust to missing their parents, so I feel quite confident I can do whatever you need me to do.”

Mrs. Franklin rested her hand on her bosom. “I’m so sorry, my dear. It must have been horrible growing up in such a manner.”

“There were a few bright spots, but not many. Aside from the love I received from the younger ones, there wasn’t much else to cherish.”

“Did you know your family before…?”

“No, ma’am. Sadly, I have no memory of them. In fact, I was named by someone at the Protestant asylum. I bear her last name.”

“My, you do have a story to share, and one I would love to hear. But first, let’s decide if this position really suits you.”

To read more answers or join the Blog Hop visit http://bit.ly/hOZXmu

Don't forget to come back next week.

Six Sentence Sunday

Today, I'm featuring six sentences from my current work-in-progress (WIP) with hopes that Hattie will start talking to me again so I can finish her story.  She's quite stubborn as opposed to my other heroines. I even have the cover ready for this one so all I need is my muse...Come on, Hattie, peel off that Duct tape and talk to me.



Hattie's Hero:

   Despite her churning innards, she closed the gap between them on leaden legs, managing a weak smile. His tailored charcoal frock coat, starched white shirt and perfectly pressed trousers indicated a man of means. His thick mustache, broad shoulders, and angular jaw made him quite attractive, but clearly impatient if his tapping foot was any indication. A glance down at her tacky apparel brought warmth to her cheeks.  If her employment rested on her looks… 

   She clamped the frayed handle of her valise so tightly, her nails dug into her palms.