Monday, September 29, 2014

What do you do when.... You have no time for your muse?

What do you do when.... You have no time for your muse? 

Okay peeps, another ???? for my followers (and trollers :))

I fought this with school but it feels different with my current situation. My job transferred me to another office (twice, technically) and I'm moving into a new house (new to me). This leaves me barely enough conscious time to handle these blogs while I gulp down my healthier lunches. Those who have moved, without the use of a moving company, know that this is a nightmare even with help but using three vehicles (don't forget the small boxes and garbage bags) is over the limits. 

My muse screamed at me during breaks at school but only a few delicate whispers have come from her the last two weeks. I'm still jotting down what I can when I am able to hear her but she's not as vocal as she was the two weeks after I graduated. It just seems strange. You'd think it would have been the opposite but my mental strains must be larger than I had thought.

As I see a light at the end of my transitional tunnel (if I use binoculars). I'm currently going on job interviews plus have my resume out there for the medical world. My rental has to be vacated by midnight on 9/30, so that gives me a small window to situate myself. Sigh, I'd love to have everything out the week before so that I can fix anything minimal before the keys are passed back to the manager. Insert hysterical laughter here.....

Have you guys had this issue with your muses? Did your muse just hush up for the duration of the life stressing moment or did you run into a block larger than H & R? It kinda makes me nervous that I have somehow shut up a part of myself while dealing with the day to day things that happen to be at the bottom of the last box. Are you lucky enough to have one that talks to you on a normal basis, no matter what fan has been covered in poo? Shout out and let me know and what did you do once your issues were clear?

)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Monday, September 22, 2014

Do you read what I'm seeing? Seeing v/s reading - A Writing Excercise

While painting the walls in my new place, I started listening to the audio books that were saved to my laptop. This was a great break from the radio stations that were annoying me and solved the problem that we had no internet for my Pandora stations. In doing this, I got a great idea today and it's the difference between hearing a scene instead of reading one.

Think about it. I'll even give you an example - Beetlejuice.

Remember the scenes where the Maitlands turn into their Scary Selves? You saw Adam bring his nose out to resemble a sub sandwich and Barbara popped her eyes onto her tongue, but could you write that? The music and sound effects go hand in hand with the visuals but how would you translate that onto a page? Would you be able to do it justice? 

 What about the scene where their skin turns into alabaster prunes? Yes, colors are a great way to handle this but is it enough? The sound of the aging process being multiplied has to come through with your choice of words.

Dancing to the tunes of the crazy beat during the dinner party? Can you write as if you are actually hearing the music in your own room? Does the choreography run over your fingers as you jot the moves down?

Is Lydia soaring by the broad shoulders of the ghost football players as the hat boxes play the drums? 

You get what I'm saying, right? As a writer, I need to be able to see, hear, and read the words that are on the page as if they are a fully pixelated movie inside of my head. It needs to pop like 3D and move like a two hour drama. How many of you are going to see what you can do with these scenes? Use it as an exercise and see if you can work some magic. 

)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Monday, September 15, 2014

To Have and Too Bold - extra info

Now that my newest release, To Have and Too Bold, is on Nook and Kindle (plus the Secret Cravings Publishing Website), so I'm going to share a little tidbit with you on what happened to this story.

Ya see what had happened was.....(giggle) this didn't end as I had originally planned. I sent it to my alpha and beta readers (the people who critique your story before you send it to a publisher) and told them that I wanted honesty on how the story ended. I got good remarks on the level of tension plus the closure of the story being fulfilling with no bad remarks on how I handled the characters themselves.

In my original outline, which will not be put here (mwahahaha,) I had it ending with tons of edgy tension and there was blood to be shed. I even had a small sex scene to be placed after the dark moment of the story line. It was more dramatic, sexier, and more suspenseful, like Andromeda

and Just to be Left Alone.

Since I was in college as I was writing this, I had to find time in between semesters to dig into Calinda's story. This causes problems with your muse forgetting where the story left off in her mind (Yes, I know she's not real. Sort of). You may have it outlined but is the passion for the tale still there? Time passes and so does your mental processing. 

With my timing being the main issue, I kept reading the outline as I picked the writing back up (every month or three). Then it took a turn that I didn't expect. Vivien (my redheaded muse) decided that this was going to be a Sweet Romance (low heat, no sex) and the ending wasn't to have the espionage of a CSI episode. I never even bothered with writing out the missing scenes that were touched upon in my outline. I just didn't waste the time, unless I saw that my readers weren't satisfied with how the first draft ended. 

I simply wrote as my mind played the images and prayed it would be the right choice. Many writers have the same problem and it's like a Mac truck coming at you in your crowded lane. You either decide to play chicken or you get hit. At least, that's how I see it. Some readers have even gotten mad when you've gone back and told the "real" story of how things were to go (Like the wonderful J K Rowling).  

I've decided NOT to put the alternate ending on here but may actually write it, one day. I have so many other stories to develop that it may stay undercover for the rest of my life. I know that I can replay it in my head, or look over the aged notes from when this started over a year ago, that will suffice. You guys can read what is published and see for yourself. If you read it and want the other info, I may give it to you in an email. Maybe :-)

)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer
(Psssttt, if you want to check it out, look below)

Nook Link:



Just to be Left Alone:


Monday, September 8, 2014

How do you......?

Today I'm asking the question "How Do You Write An Initial Idea?"
What I'm wondering is if you happen to be sitting/standing somewhere and BOOM an idea slams into you like a buggy in the Walmart parking lot. 
I'm usually nowhere near my laptop or a notepad when this occurs, like in the shower or when driving. I do keep a slip of paper in the console so I can grab the pen and jot it down in between red lights but that is the most that I can do. But when you get this idea, do you typically write down the idea and then go back later to flesh it out? Do you pencil out a skeleton outline, get a white board with rainbow markers, or do you start a spreadsheet (like Save the Cat)?
As I'm primarily a pantser, I get a few key words either onto my phone notes or on a receipt, then flesh it out when I have a few uninterrupted minutes. (Insert hysterical laughter here). Some of my ideas come to me in scenes, witty one liners (aka hook lines), or in full blown Dorothy in Oz color. I have better luck getting ideas when I'm being more positive with life issues or if I'm forcing myself to meditate for a session or twelve. (Sometimes three isn't the magic number.) 
Recently, I was driving to work and got one idea so I penned a few main words before I added weight to it in my mind the rest of the way in. I was ten minutes early for work so I had the time it took to get a couple of scanty paragraphs into my phone's notepad for when I had downtime. The next day, I got another flash that was similar to the day before but could be flipped to be two different stories that had a chance of being a series. (where each person gets a story) This was amazing as it was out of the norm for me. Norm??? Yes, the setting on my washing machine. (Haha)
I have friends who push to get ideas out all at one time but others let it gain momentum over a few weeks. I go with what the story dictates. Say that the story starts with a scene and by the time I get to a long red light, it has grown into a few chapters...I jot down what all is included so I don't forget anything when I get to my destination. I probably have six slips of paper in the console right now with these gems saved on them. It's a way of getting them out before I get stuck in traffic or get sidetracked by another errand that needs to be run. Yes, I can be random.
What do you guys do? Do you wait until it's meatier to get it on paper/Word or do you go with what your muse feeds to you? How does the process start for you?  

)))Corset Hugs(((
Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer

Monday, September 1, 2014

Firsts - Lost Sibling

Here's another first but this one comes from a sad place, the loss of my big brother. So, please go back to your (hopefully) paid day off (if this isn't a day for you to feel my pain) but I can promise some sweet lines long the way.

As a youngster, I watched my brother and envied some of the things that an older brother got to do. I was an annoyance to him as he felt that he couldn't do anything without me watching or wandering what he was up to. This ended up in several damages on my side as I had doors shut in my face or was shoved out of his personal space. Back then I could scurry away or tell  my mom that I was offended by his lack of compassion for my curiosity.

As he grew older, he became more comfortable with his zany ways and I was envious of that. He was creative, had an ear for music, and an eye on comic book story lines. As a matter of fact, my favorite character in the comics was the first one he introduced me to Magique (with Daredevil). He would make sure that I wasn't sitting outside of his room when he would play his Prince records, as it "wasn't age appropriate". Seriously, you were only a couple years older than me. To this day, Prince, Toto, and Depeche Mode will always make me think of my brother and his teenage antics.

Growing older, I had crushes on his friends as they were close to my idol plus had the cool factor that I admired. Sadly, this went as well as a stuffed bikini top at the local swimming pool. Not well. One of them was supposed to take me to the 8th grade dance but happened to forget. OUCH! (Side note: as I "grew up" he supposedly apologized to me through old friends about how that night had turned out. It in itself is a whole other story....first heartbreaking crush.)

A pattern was set as I was the aggravating sister who wouldn't leave him alone and he was the coolest thing I could think of for a unique brother. Yes, we had tons of squabbles but that didn't change my devotion to him. When I got married, he had already run off with his wife. The great part was that he became really tight with my hubby. I stayed in the background as I was told not to "ruin his life" by adoring him, but I was proud of all of his achievements. We even went to visit him and his new family when he was stationed in Alabama and had a wonderful days as we all played cards.

The friendship got even tighter over the last few years and at one point I was told that I no longer had custody of my brother as he was officially my husband's brother. I was fine with that because although I wasn't his fav to hang out with, he was there for me to love from my quiet corner. We were there for the days he moved, some of the last minute get togethers he threw, motorcycle trips, and hours spent working on broken vehicles.

More recently he was going to help us move into the house that we were buying and attend my RMA (registered medical assistant) pinning ceremony. That didn't happen. I ache for what did occur. You see, my brother fought a mental illness that wasn't diagnosed when we were younger. It does explain how he handled things and how he felt about my shadowing him. I understood and backed away as to show my love in a different light. It was the best that I could do.

The night before my pinning we got the call that stopped time for me. My brother was no longer with us. The tears were non stop as my hubs and I tried to piece together what could have taken away such a vivacious warm person. He loved his wife to the point of saint hood, cherished his kids so madly that he sold cars to get them the things they needed. Why had God taken away the brother that had just accepted me as a more important part of his life? I still don't understand and I probably never will.

Even with it being a month ago, I will suddenly start crying as one of his famous lines or a character he would invent popped into my mind for a brief visit. Now, I fight the stream of tears while I think of him imitating Robin Williams who also imitated people. Robin himself died right after my brother's memorial so that made it even harder as people were mourning all around for the same type of spirit being taken from our view. They were so much alike that I re-experienced it all as if the tears hadn't just stopped.

I went to my pinning anyway, without him, and thought of him most of the time that I was celebrating my evening. You can imagine that the tears of joy for my accomplishment were actually for the loss that I was feeling in my heart. I played it off well. My teacher and husband were proud of him for not losing it that night. We bought that house that he was going to put some of his gear at. He isn't there to paint or to give some outlandish opinion on how the bathroom should be decorated in some garish scene. His spare riding gear won't be in the closet and his tools won't be spread in a corner of my garage. Not in reality. In spirit he is with me as I listen to Depech Mode sing Shout, while I watch the memorials on Facebook about the standup acts that Robin Williams did in the eighties, and in the motorcycle (that looks like his) in my garage.

Even if the ringing phone isn't him, he's in my heart as the wonderful man that I shadowed through our lives. This was one man who wasn't afraid to laugh at life's little humor as he would normally joke right back, He was a hero to me, no matter how many flaws a human could point out. That was my brother. I miss him.

you never know when God will need them more than we do.

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer