Editing is for May :)

So, I had to get a WP ID in order to make the stats function on my website work. Instead of just getting an ID I got a blog so I could follow some of the WP peeps I've been wanting to follow and can't through google feed anymore. Well, I was unable to. But, I have the blog, it's the same addy as this one, but instead of blogspot.com it's wordpress.com and I'll be doing duplicate blogs on both. I really dislike WordPress, but since Blogger changed, I really dislike it as well. So might as well join up, eh?

I'm very excited about all that's happening in my writer life. I'm feeling so much better after rereading a couple of books. One thing, I'm waiting for editor friend of mine to post her head hopping versus omniscient POV post then I'm going to link the shit crap out of it.

I get frustrated when I see head hopping comments because sometimes, I KNOW it's an omniscient POV book. That makes it hard as a writer. It's like the passive voice thing. Yeah, we want to avoid 'was' but 'was' is not passive verb in a lot of cases. It's context you have to look at for passive voice. Same with omniscient and head hopping. just cuz you can see more than one person's thoughts, doesn't mean they're head hopping. They're telling a full story!

Grrr. I keep running into that as I'm writing cuz of my own omniscient one I'm editing right now. I started trying to fix the back and forth when I realized I'd sent it to an editor and head hopping was not an issue, ie it is omniscient. So, at least until I finish this, I'm going to be angry about all the head hopping comments/blogs etc that I read that made it hard for me to remember the difference between that and omniscient.  A lot of well off, bestseller writers, write omniscient. (Kay Hooper for example)

Also, did I mention that my "secret" project was accepted J It's a short, partially inspired by my friend Branli on twitter and a drunken night w/ him and his friend Jon, via twitter! I love my twitter friends!! They really do inspire me more than many people can understand.

On the mother front, had a wonderful time watching my son at baseball practice last night, even if it was across a soccer field. He's improved so much! That was only his fourth practice and he's hitting it really far!! Like to the fences J Now if I could get him to work on his school work as hard…

Edward had a blast walking all over with his dad while they went camping J So I think both boys had a good time the last couple of days. Makes it harder to get them moving on to school though. That's what's happening right now. They've done home ec (a lesson on making tomato soup out of paste and how to whip butter) and had grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. But now comes the boring work…

Isaac is on a terror this AM. He's getting into EVERYTHING so I think he and I will have to do a round of Old McDonald's Farm and work on his animal recognition. Wish me luck as this is a new song I introduced to him during baseball practice last night.

I have felt icky when waking up these last few mornings, but I still ran on Monday with the boys (they did 1.1, I did 2.0)  and today. I'm so glad I went today. I did a personal best of 2.5 miles!! I'm so excited. When I started the couch to 5k (approx 3 miles) I didn't even think I could run a mile, but I did 1.2 miles the first day! Now, I'm consistently 2 or over, so I don't think that going for 5 miles by end of summer is out of the question. I've lost weight, although I have no idea how much, and inches. I know it's inches cuz I can't wear some clothes without them falling off. It was rather distracting this morning, trying to hold my britches up. :P

Yesterday, I had a very productive day on the writing front, editing the short story that's out on Smashwords, then getting it out on kindle with the grammar issues fixed. I also edited 70 pages on another story I'm getting ready for submission. I'm trying to get all these loose ends done so I can concentrate on my novel for Splintered Lands. May do the NaNoWriMo camp in June. That'll help me focus on words again. Anyways, with all I've learned editing The Ulfric's Mate, and Barely There, I've been on a major editing kick. Works great if you have things to edit like I do, but makes it hard for word count as my internal editor is a lot harder to turn off.

I have lots to edit, so I'm kind of making May my edit month here. I'll rerelease Cerisa's Quest (Fantasy) and The Winds of Fire (militaristic romance thriller) by end of June, I think. Hoping to have Cerisa's Quest in next two weeks. It needs the least amount of work. I'm going to go through The Winds of Fire. I'd intended on it being omniscient limited and someone said I was head hopping, so I changed things. Now have to do a little more research into the limited aspect and reread a really good blog, then edit it how I'd intended it to be. Have to find that blog first :P LOL So off to work I go! Hi ho, hi ho…

Friday Excerpts--Gal Friday Noir revamped to 1st

I know I'm a little early for west coasters, US, but my other friends in Europe are already into Friday :)

I'd like to thank everyone who helped me in my transfermation from third to first. This is early in chapter one. I think the first paragraph here is about the fifth in chapter one.

I've not started any real edits yet so it's still pretty raw. But the first person is really rockin' in this story. Tell me what you think :)



Gal Friday Noir

The blue suit, as I think of the slightly shorter, more dour of the partners, holds my file. I identify it from my stint in the military hospital after some freak biological substance leaked in my neighborhood. I recognize the special symbol on it.

That was back when I was still married--I put an abrupt stop to that train. It left the station a long time ago. I stub out my cigarette in the small old-fashioned glass ashtray on the desk. They obviously don't have an updated dossier on me or they never would've left me with such a hand weapon, much less matches.

I keep my hand hovering over the ashtray, in a seemingly idle gesture. I resist the urge to blow the hair out of my eyes or any other gesture they may take as nervousness. I listen to his voice drone out the basic facts.

Name, Serena L. Rouge formally Hartson at the time of hospitalization. Age, thirty now. Occupation, writer. I smile wide when he reads that in incredulous tones. I can hear the wheels turning as to how some peon of a writer gave him a black eye and broke his partner's nose.

Black suit, the one with the broken nose and truly atrocious attitude glared at me from behind puffy eyes. He speaks as if he has a bad cold due to my resistance in the parking lot. But really, is it my fault they don't do their homework before kidnapping me?

"Hey, this is serious," blue suit says as he notes my smile.

I only smile wider at his cranky tone. Needling assholes never gets old. "Since you haven't bothered to explain why you've kidnapped a citizen with no outstanding warrants or other reason to be summarily arrested, I'm not sure why you think I should take you seriously. Is that a spot of dirt under your eye?" I ask facetiously.

My anger is barely suppressed as I think of my children at school. Or home for all I know. I don't know what time it is thanks to these fuck heads and I can barely control the urge to hurt them again. It's only my extreme need to keep my secret life a, well secret, from yahoos like these that keeps me sitting in my pseudo-relaxed position.

"If you're so innocent, then why did you fight us?"

I stare at him. Is he really completely stupid? Where did the government get these guys? No wonder the zombies are winning. "Duh. Every woman is told to fight to prevent being kidnapped. You were abducting me for fuck's sake. What did you expect!"

I lit another cigarette for something to do with my hands. Plus to have a weapon ready. I notice that black suit doesn't like it. Definite plus in my book.

I know they can't possibly want the writer person, yet they seem unaware that I possess other skills. I'm confused regarding their intentions. However, any way I look at it, it smarts to be kidnapped by such as these two bumbling idiots. But they'd stuck me with a needle of something and down I went. I need to know what the hell they were using. It's hard to bring me down--ever since the accident.

Friday Excerpts--Gal Friday Noir

Okay, I did something. My critique partner suggested I try my story in first person. I'm not a big fan of the first person. In fact, my initial blase attitude regarding Twilight had to do with the first person POV. (BTW, in case you missed my earlier post regarding this, no author bashing here on my blog. I will erase the post. Constructive criticism only, please.) I told my critique partner this, and being the brave soul that she is, she said, "It would be good exercise anyway." So I did it. Instead of a "new" chapter, I rewrote the last chapter, and did it in first person. Here is an excerpt.

PLEASE comment, give your opinion constructively. (The no author bashing rule applies to me too!) This is a little long because I need some feed back on the first person and this chapter is full of dialogue. Enjoy :D

"I don't think they meant to. Only one other person knew I was taking those days before I left the office. I was kidnapped on my way home. Since I live alone, there's no one to report me missing unless I don't check in today."

"Nice," I said. "I bet you pissed off someone. They can't say a word and all their careful planning is backfiring because you had a whim for a few days to yourself."
He grinned at me and I could see some color returning to his face. "Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it?"

My kind of man. "Pissing people off always makes my heart glow." I glanced quickly his way and smiled. "So, their mole isn't likely to be your boss, or he could have called off the kidnapping. That is, if the intended result was to have you pulled from the case."

"You're scary when you smile like that," he said, approval lacing his voice. "What training have you had?"

Surprised, I glanced over at him again, then shrugged. "Here, there. Mostly local people." Some dumb luck and experience is how I learned most of my survival lessons, but that would lead to lots of questions I have no intention of answering. Besides, those experiences are what made me seek out self-defense lessons.

"I can't imagine how you'd be if you had any formal training." He shook his head then dropped the subject. Smart man. "But back to the problem. I agree with you. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure they intended to have me taken off the case. I need to find out why. And who."

"What's the next step? This is way past my skills." Even my private investigator training wasn't enough to deal with a mole in the FBI.

"I doubt it. You handled yourself like a pro back there."

"Damn it." That's not what I meant at all. But if he leaked that she was cool under fire and had bested an infected, there's no telling the damage it would do. "Is there any way I can keep that information out of your official report?

"There's not going to be an official report," he said grimly. "Normally, I'd report, they'd pull me as lead, but keep me as consultant. But I don't think that's what'll happen this time. There's something underhanded about all of this that I mean to get to the bottom of. What if they wanted more than to get me off the case?'

His question surprised me, but I immediately knew what he meant. "Like fired?"

"Yes, fired. I've been secretly searching for the mole. The director isn't convinced there is one. I'm sure there is. What if I'm getting too close and they've decided to get rid of me in a non-sensational way?"

"This group seems to enjoy the bloodshed. Why stop now?" I had an inkling of where he was going, but wanted to hear him talk out the process for me.

"Because the death of an FBI agent would cause too many questions. Better for them to try a different route first."

I pondered this while driving, letting the car fill with silence again. After a while, I heard him mumble "What the hell?" and reach in his pocket. It was his cell phone. That worried me. They kidnap him, bloody him up, then leave him with everything, including his phone? Nothing added up.

Granted, I'd interrupted them, perhaps foiling some of their plans when they left, but they'd been there for two days. Simple enough to slip his gun, badge and phone into a pocket or purse. Spinning the scenarios was giving me a bitch of a headache. Normally, I didn't get them anymore, but apparently my body was telling me it'd had enough for the day.

I reached behind the front seat and started rummaging in my pack. Joseph gave me a look and pointed to the road. I sighed in frustration and mouthed "headache" at him.
He nodded and pulled my pack to his lap. While plastering his phone to his ear with his shoulder he poked around in the pocket I'd just been digging in. He came up with my bottle of Motrin.

I popped them with some of the left over soda from McDonald's and surreptitiously watched his features. His face was still somewhat swollen, especially around the eyes. However, fully dressed, the only clue to the recent ordeal were the black eyes.
I wanted to offer him some of her Motrin but figured he knew about them now and could ask or get some if he needed it. I noticed him tensing his jaw which made it difficult for me not to ask "What?" while he talked on the phone. Driving aimlessly for a few more minutes wouldn't kill me. But my curiosity might. I was so busy mocking myself, I didn't notice he'd quit talking on the phone and shut it off.

"I'm not saying anything about my kidnapping and we have to go in to the Bureau. The person I talked to said all calls from me, to me, or regarding me were ordered rerouted to another number--two days ago," he said darkly.

Two days ago. I was incredulous. No way. I'm not buying. "That's a little much for my bullshit meter," I said mildly, not wanting any of his anger directed at me.

"Mine too," he replied.

"I know the director didn't set it up, so it had to come from one of two people. My regular partner is stuck on desk duty from injuries arising out of a hit and run. In light of recent events, I'm beginning to think his accident is related to this case. These people are ruthless and have no morals if I'm right," he said with hot anger in his voice.

Despite knowing he wasn't directing it at me, I flinched at his tone. Even while being tied up and tortured, he hadn't lost his cool. Now he looked ready to take someone out for what happened to his partner. I planned on staying out of his way.

"What happened," I ask him quietly. "And give me directions to the local office so we can take care of that before I check in to a hotel somewhere."

He gave me the directions while he talked. "A month ago, my partner, David, was t-boned on his way to work. He left the Shell Station by the freeway after getting gas and witnesses say a large black truck appeared out of nowhere and smashed the driver's side of his sedate sedan. The doctors said if his car hadn't come equipped with side airbags as well as front air bags, he would have died."

The malice and forethought involved with planning a murder for an Agent only peripherally involved stunned me. Killing someone in that manner was risky at best. You were more likely to permanently handicap them. I had to agree with Joseph's assessment. Chances are that they did it to get David off a current case in the field and stuck behind a desk or worse.

I'm not sure what he thought of my continued silence, but he didn't stay quiet for long. This time I could hear the raw emotions in his voice. "It took two weeks before he was well enough to come to work and sit behind a desk. His color was so bad, I almost made him go home. I don't know how he convinced his own doctors, much less the FBI ones to let him back so soon, but he did."

He started to say more than stopped. I let him contemplate his thoughts on his own for now. I have my own worries to ponder. As I thought things out, I didn't much like the conclusions I came to. Fear is not a comfortable bed fellow. Tended to make people make mistakes and I was no exception. If these people were willing to do that to an FBI agent, how much more would they do to me, a lowly writer?