Author: Erin Penn

Writing Exercise: Sharpen the Beginning

Erin Penn

Hay Stock Photo

Photo courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sharpen the beginning.

So the problem with editing, I’ve been told, is over time you start having problems reading for enjoyment. Today was my first powerful example. Reading a (free) book from Kindle. The first three sentences are:

The great beast slid through tall, dead grass. The wind had led him here. It wanted to show him something.

And in my head is my inner-editor screams “a major editor of anthologies told me he often doesn’t make it past the first sentence.” Where did the first question begin – not, “what is the great beast” but “what did the wind want to show him.” That was the hook to encourage a reader to read the next sentence – and it is the third sentence. For the anthology editor and others, this manuscript has already been tossed aside.

So remember, make the first question which draws the person to the next sentence be immediate. Or at least make the first sentence interesting. Do you want your work tossed aside after just a sentence is read? An anthology editor has 14 slots and gets 400 submissions; s/he doesn’t have time to read everything to the end.

WRITING EXERCISE: How would you change these first three sentences to bring more punch?

My example:

Sliding through the dead grass, the great beast followed the wind. It wanted to show him something.

What is yours?

An alternative challenge is take your present work in progress and rewrite the first sentence or paragraph so the reader has an immediate question to answer – Who is this person, what are they doing, what are they running from, etc.

Flash: The Girl at the Window

Erin Penn

Painting: A woman at the Window by Henri de Troulouse-Lautrec

Painting entitled: Woman at the Window
Shared under the Creative Commons attribution

 

“I would like to go outside.”

Eleonora startled but managed to control her movement to complete stowing the dried dinner china on the shelves. After taking a moment to control herself so she would not overreact to the miracle of words, she turned around to face her emancipated daughter. Years of sitting by the window watching other children play had taken their toll.

“Are you sure Merritt?” Eleonora hated to discourage the first sign of life her daughter displayed in years. “It’s dark out.”

A beatific smile molded the young woman’s normally blank expression into something exalted, melting Eleonora’s heart with terrifying hope while her daughter responded. “The world is smaller at night.”

A shudder at the unnatural way the child interpreted everything was quickly suppressed. Grasping at straws to untangle the broken paths of her daughter’s mind, Eleonora searched the painted silk wallpaper just above the child’s blonde head rather than meet her expressionless blue eyes. “And being smaller is important?”

“Of course, mama.”

Sagging against the stays in corset, Eleonora surrendered another battle in a war she lost when her daughter was four. Fifteen words would have to be miracle enough for the day. “Very well. Please keep to the backyard and don’t go beyond the creek.”

Her youngest child blinked once; her face reformed into the nothing mask. Carefully placing each foot directly in front of the other, heel to toe, Merritt walked to the door, stopped, looked down considering the knob, lifted a hand slowly, grasped the doorknob firmly, and tried turning. The doors between her bed room and the piano room and the bath room were always left open. After failing to rotate the knob far enough one-handed, she raised her left hand and added it to the twist, releasing the door slightly. Stepping back, pulling the door with her, she opened it enough to take three heel-toe sideways steps to go outside, meticulously closing the door behind her.

Eleonora released her breath. Merritt hadn’t been outside since their one attempt to attend primary school. After a day of screaming and crying ending with a rocking fit lasting until the next morning, the teachers accused her of coddling the youngster with unnatural and unhealthy affection and demanded she leave the child in their care for the rest of the week. Merritt didn’t even respond to her name when Eleonora fetched the child over Clement’s and the school objections. Bruises from canings and small burns covered her body.

She didn’t play the piano or any other musical instrument for another year because she wouldn’t leave her bedroom. Instead she sat by the front window, wrapped in a blanket day and night…watching.

A cough took Eleonora, choking her throat. Shoulders and legs shaking, she sunk to the wooden floor, skirt floating around her, tears coating her face instantly. Sobs heavy enough to sink a steamship erupted. Exhaustion ceased the outburst long before the emotions had ran their course. Standing up by grasping the counter, Eleonora made her way to the sink. She leveraged the pump, priming it, until water flowed and washed her face before taking the stairs to the master bedroom where Clement was already asleep, careful not to wake her husband.

(words 536 – first published 5/22/2016)

Other Cool Blogs: Magical Words 5/2/2016

Erin Penn

The only place a writer signs a check is on the back

Image acquired from www.cafepress.com
“store” owner is James Macdonald, originator of Yog’s Law
If interested in the T-shirt of like products go here:


Yog’s Law – Money flows towards the author.

A mantra I have heard long and often as I have dipped my toes in the publishing industry, ran away, came back, researched the industry, had life, came back, attended cons, moved, came back … Well, nigh on twenty or more years now.

It made sense, back before Amazon and eBooks, when the publishers ruled. At that time they paid for the marketing, covers, editing, everything. If a writer was paying an agent to “proofread” or a publisher “for marketing costs”, a scam was occurring. James Macdonald became “radicalized” (his word) after talking to one poor new writer who fell for the scammers and likely lost everything. The story is here: https://www.sff.net/people/yog/. At the time Mr. Macdonald Message-board (yes, it is that old – when only message boards were the primary communication) name was Yog. Thus Yog’s Law was born.

But publishing has changed in the last twenty, last ten, heck … it changed from yesterday. A writer is often self-published until an agent or publisher gets interested. During this time the author is writer, marketing, and publisher. And while the writer should never pay, when the publisher’s hat goes on money flows out for the cover art, editing, and marketing just like in the old days under big presses. An author may be able to cut corners if they know art, or website production, or any of a number of skills. But each time the author is working under a hat other than writing, they are not writing. 

Having a press take 35-70% of the income from writing isn’t bad when adding up the actual expenses of wearing the publisher’s hat. In fact after the first successful publish, if an author continues to self-publish,  I would recommend putting 75% aside from each royalty check until the next book and then use that portion as the “publisher expenses”. That should cover all the overt expenses; there are still a lot of passive expenses, such as time not spent writing.

Excellent blogs to better understand the law can be found below:
Gail Z Martin – Magical Words – “Yog’s Law—It’s More of a Guideline” – 2/24/2016
John G. Hartness – Magical Words – “Making Money Mondays – Yog’s Law” – 5/2/2016

Author Spotlight: Vera Nazarian

Erin Penn

Book Cover for Compete

Cover from Amazon

Vera Nazarian is a Russian immigrant, now American citizen, presently living in Vermont after leaving Los Angles, which she obviously remembers fondly (or maybe not) considering some of the things which happen in Qualify, the first book of The Atlantis Grail series. Compete is the second book of the series and Ms. Nazarian’s most recent publication. The third in the series, Win, is due out shortly.

She has previously published the Cobweb Bride series, several stand-alone novels, a couple novelette, and a myriad of short stories. Ms. Nazarian runs the small press of Norilana Books.

Bobbing along, minding my own business, trying to find some fictional romance stories based on Hades and Persephone after coming out of my own private six months the dark underworld of Taxes, I discovered the Cobweb Bride and was blown away. The layers of world building, the unique characters, the lyrical language – it’s like Ms. Nazarian is specifically writing for all my “love” buttons.

I had to find more.

Since then, I have gobbled two more short stories and both of the published books of her Atlantis Grail series. All her books contain the wonderful love of language; some readers claim she dips into “purple prose” – but I do not find this to be the case. Purple prose is page after page of description; Ms. Nazarian balances description with action and dialogue. Anytime my inner editor starts speaking up saying “this type of writing – narrative or dialogue – has been going on too long”, the very next sentence switches the mix up.

If you want non-stop action, then she is not the writer for you. But if you rub against books for the texture of the velvet described (right before the knife is slid through the silk doublet), then you will enjoy her writing.

The novels I have read have a lot of characters, casts of dozens to hundreds. Somehow Ms. Nazarian makes each a unique character. Often when you first meet them, it is like in real life; you instantly categorize the person by the environment and situation you meet them in. But as time goes on, and you get to know them, the characters don’t stay in their nice little categories. No one does exactly what you expect, but everyone does what is within their character.

I hope you take a moment to explore this incredible storyteller. She has a few free items available on Amazon.

Her website can be found here: http://www.veranazarian.com/

 

Flash: My Seat

Erin Penn

Empty Airplane Seats In The Cabin Stock Photo

FreeDigitalPhotos.net photo by jk1991

Someone was sitting in my seat. Every year, upon returning from the family reunion, I would immediately make a reservation for the next year, choosing the middle seat on the row with the emergency wing exit. One of my many plans. I didn’t want the responsibility of opening the door; I wanted to be the first one through in case the plane was on fire. Always safe and always careful.

Until the accident. My gently used Volvo and a run-away truck had an argument. I lost.

My family returned the seat for the refund months ago. I’m just hanging around following my plans. I attended the last of my college classes. Went to all the job interviews I planned during spring break so I would have a job as soon as I graduate. Attended graduation and the three June weddings of friends. The list goes on. All my beautiful plans.

I haven’t seen any other ghosts. I am not sure I am a ghost. Or what the rules are. I like rules and plans. Everything has a structure.

Everything SHOULD have a structure.

I’ve been very annoyed Saint Peter isn’t available as a gate guard or guide.

My best guess, since I seem to be drawn to everywhere I had made commitments and plans, is I am stuck here until my last plan deadline is past. I hope my hypothesis is wrong, since I had everything worked out including retiring to Florida like my grandparents did and had even given thought to which part of the Diocese’s cemetery plots I would be buried in.

My family cremated me.

I am looking forward to what would have been my 30th birthday. My plan was to go to New Zealand if I didn’t marry before then and use it as the honeymoon. In fact, I had been returning from coming back from getting my passport when the truck hit me.

The stewardess finished showing everyone how to work a seatbelt. Can’t believe that is still part of the take-off spiel, but I guess it calms nerves. It’s a full plane so there are a lot of nerves to calm, especially at the start of a three-hour flight.

Someone was sitting in my seat. … I wonder what would happen if I sat in his lap?

(words 383 – first published 5/15/2016)