The HEA Cafe

I know because I have a lot of stuff due. A revision that’s not cooperating, a blog today–oh that’s this one–a blog on my own blog–that’s easy–I got pages yesterday so I plan to boast! But the thing I want to talk about is how panic reaches for us as we try to do our best.

I wonder how you react to it? Are you and I the same? Can you feel it out there, reaching for you with long arms–electrified arms? I’m picturing a cross between a squid and a Barbara Cartland-type boa, each feather charged like a taser, because I sure get a jolt every time one soft frond brushes against me.

I’m working every day and night on the revision, but the book was so off the first time that I’m suffering from self-doubt. You’ve met Self-Doubt? Panic’s heinous stepsister? So, I’m writing this couple and I’m trying to fill my own heart with the ache of their need to be together. I see them dancing as I am with Panic, but they get to have a happily ever after if I’m just good enough for them as a writer.

I’m doing the other stuff, too, showing up at the blog, slipping only the occasional note into the notebook I wasn’t supposed to take to the air show the other day, chatting away at dinner last night, even though my only thoughts were for my hero and heroine, who are not aching quite enough yet.

So, what do you do with Self-Doubt and Panic? I’m ignoring doubt. Giving in would be crazy if I intend to reach the happily ever after I need as much as my hero and heroine.

And what do you do with Panic? I’m circling. Occasionally, I give my companion a little shove, without actually acknowledging it’s there, without letting it touch me. We’re dancing, and it’s not pretty, but I have no time for panic. Gotta get to that HEA!

For the past few years I’ve looked forward to November and to participating in the NaNo (National Novel Writing Month ) experience, but something always transpires to stop me registering – day job commitments, online workshop participation, submission deadlines, visitors.  Regardless, I always battle with myself whether or not to register anyway. I’m one of those people who take on too much, never happier than when I’m overwhelmed with things to do - excessive is my middle name.

I’ve just suffered through one of my husband’s regular “you can’t take anymore on right now” speeches (affectionately known in our house as the “talk-downs”). He’s absolutely forbidden me to register for NaNo, which, of course, makes me want to do it even more.

Why do I want to put myself through the NaNo experience anyway? Because I want to try writing a first draft in a month – no editing, no layering, no perfect prose, just a basic first draft of the whole story in a month. I’ve tried doing it on my own but, while I start off with all these wonderful intentions of just writing, it’s not long before the old internal editor jumps on my shoulder and starts cracking her whip.

My internal editor is an old crone – a wise old girl who doesn’t let me get away with much.  She tells me I’ve started the story in the wrong place, that the POV is all wrong, that I can’t get away with passive sentence structure and I really should change it right now. This minute. Ignoring her doesn’t work, she just gets more persistent, nastier. She’ll start on the “you can’t write anyway” or “you really haven’t learned a thing in all the years you’ve been writing, have you?”  She’ll keep going until I eventually give in and start the editing process just to shut her up - then bang goes all my good intentions.

I figure if I had the support of fellow writers doing the same thing, at the same time, under the banner of NaNo, I’d have some ammunition to use against the old crone when she starts with the “let’s improve this load of junk right now, shall we?” speech.  I’d just tell her I’m officially registered to write a load of junk for one month, and she can go take a hike until December. 

Ah, well … maybe next year.

I absolutely love this time of year–the cool breeze, the falling leaves, and all of the sweet little ghosts and goblins that I will soon see lining the streets.  Ah, wonderful Halloween!

As Halloween draws closer, I find myself thinking more and more about the paranormal.  (Okay, I write paranormal stories, so I generally always think about the supernatural realm to some extent but…) Lately, I’ve started to focus my attention on hauntings.
Growing up in Alabama, there were always stories circulating about ghosts and haunted houses.  There was actually a road not far from my home that boasted a haunted plantation, a haunted cemetery, and a haunted bridge. The bridge was given the name “Cry Baby Bridge” and the rumors said that if you went to that bridge at midnight, you would hear the sad cry of a child.  I never went at midnight (big coward that I am!) so I never got to listen for the cry, but I always wondered…

I recently had the pleasure of meeting two professional paranormal investigators, and the stories they told definitely gave me a few goosebumps.

Have you ever experienced a supernatural encounter?  Every had a moment when the air chilled and, even though you were supposed to be all alone, you could swear you felt the presence of someone or something else?

Cynthia Eden

www.cynthiaeden.com

Come and chat with us on Thursday night from 9pm to 10 pm EST. Our author guests will include, Deborah Cooke, Lori Devoti, Cara Carnes and Marly Mathews! We will be discussing our books and the paranormal, futuristic, Sci-Fi and Fantasy genres. Doorprizes include, an ARC of Deborah’s Kiss of Fire, a signed copy of Lori’s Nocturne release, Unbound and a signed copy of Marly’s Twilight’s Kiss!
Get ready to have some magical fun!

Click on Tinkerbell to go to our Public Chat Room!


Your Enchanted Chat Divas,
Marly and Jenna

I’ve recently been reoutlining a story that was basically already written.  The first draft at least.  It needed work, editing and some revision, but it was pretty much complete.  Only when I dove into the editing I realized something wasn’t working.  The story was there, but it just felt clunky.  I blamed it on the heroine and her history.  She just felt off to me.

While I was trying to force some answers out of her, I was left with one really huge question.  A question which had nothing to do with the heroine, but everything to do with the hero.  I thought I had him all figured out.  Turns out I didn’t.  As I pushed a little harder and dug a little deeper, I realized he was the culprit to my heartache with the story, and the real reason everything concerning this story was out of sorts.

He was doing things with so much conviction I knew there was more to him than he told me.  So I pushed him to open up.  At first he refused, but I eventually got him to spill his guts.  Wow.  It was an eye opener for me, and I’ve been digging in and enjoying every minute of his revelations.  Even the research and fact I’m going to have rewrite this story hasn’t bothered me in the least.

For me, the joy of writing comes from the characters-their history, emotion and depth.  When they open up and tell me their story instead of me telling it to them is more inspiring than anything else ever could be.  I love to hear their voices and share their experiences.

I am a plotter and I probably always will be.  However, this is only true to a point.  I like to outline the story and the basics of the plot.  The real magic occurs when the character’s take the outline and show me how to wield it into their story.  Even if it means going back and reoutlining the entire story and starting over.  In the end, it’s worth it and where the real joy is at.

~Tess Harrison