Okay so I've come up with a new opening for my book. I want to grip the reader right away and not let them go. So here's what I've come up with.
Their panicked screams dove straight through the murky waters and to my ears. I wanted to scream back, to reassure them that it would all turn out okay. But I’d be fooling myself to even think that from this moment on anything would be normal again. I didn’t want to imagine what he’d do to them after he was done proving his point with me. My scalp burned, every strand of my red hair screamed for the release from his iron grip. Clawing at him proved to waste precious energy, so I remained limp as a ragdoll. I couldn’t last much longer, and in response my chest heaved, my body was struggling for oxygen. All I could do was let myself go. I was drowning by the hands of a person who should have loved me and watched me grow. Instead, I got to listen to the screams of my best friend, and the guy I never got to really know, swim around my ears until everything went black.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
To self-publish or to not self-publish. That is the question.
I'm seriously thinking about self-publishing my novel "Stalked." Now the journey of researching all my options has begun!! Wish me luck.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Webinars
Last week I listened to my first Webinar on "How to hook your readers in the first three pages of your novel." It was hosted by Sara Megibow of Nelson Literary Agency and it proved to be very insightful. We were allowed to post questions and email our first three pages to be critiqued by Sara. Below I've posted my first three pages and what Ms. Megibow had to say about them. Feel free to make comments.
Stalked by Wendy Nelson
Mothballs and gray hair. I fear that’s all I’ll remember of today, until Sophie strides through the front door of the funeral home wearing a bright red dress and the sea of gray heads all turn to stare. I quickly cover the smile that has popped out on my face, it seems somehow wrong to smile on a day like this.
My grandmother had taken Sophie and I to a movie downtown last year and afterwards we sat at a trendy coffee shop sipping lattes and talking about everything under the sun. She had brought up the subject of funerals and told us that if and when she died we were not allowed to wear black. Sophie appears to have remembered her request. I did as well, but chose a more reserved soft pink dress.
“Nice dress,” I say eyeing her up and down. “My grandmother would approve.” Sophie links her arm through mine. “Damn straight she would have approved, you didn’t think I’d forget did you?”
“You never forget anything.”
“Ha ha, very funny Mya.” But as soon as the words leave her mouth, her smile fades and she turns to look away from me. I grip her arm tighter and we stand there linked together not needing to fill the silence with meaningless chitchat. We’re both feeling the pain of loss. My grandmother was as much in Sophie’s life as she was in mine.
So there we were amidst the black clothes and gray heads looking like we were about to go to a Valentine’s Day dance when I spotted another out of place looking person. He looked to be around our age or maybe older. His baby blue tie caught my eye and when I looked up to study his face I saw that his eyes were the same blue. Our eyes suddenly lock and I turn away embarrassed to be caught staring.
Seconds later I tried for a second peek but he was gone. Maybe I made him up in my head? Why else would a young good-looking guy be at my grandmother’s funeral?
I turn to say something to Sophie but she’s in a conversation with an older man who’s talking to her chest and not her face. Great. Now I’ll get to hear her complain about the fact that she should be able to wear what she wants and not have men ogle her. We go over this at least five times a year. I tell her if she wants to wear clothes that show major cleavage than she has to get used to guys staring. And they won’t always be the hot guys you want to be looking, looking.
I glance around the room. My mom is talking with the funeral director who looks like he could be a hundred years old. When we arrived this morning he greeted us with weak trembling handshakes. He held onto my hand as he explained to us what the order of events would be. I was relieved when he informed us my grandmother wished to have a closed casket. I can almost trick myself into thinking she’s not even in there. Like it’s some kind of hoax and she’ll breeze through the door at any moment. But she doesn’t.
The past three days leading up to today have been extremely hard on my mom. I’ve found her curled up on the couch many times wrapped in the quilt my grandmother made, staring off into space. I bring her cups of tea but they end up growing cold and untouched.
The boxes we cleared from the nursing home are all stacked in a corner of the basement. I’m not sure if my mom will ever go through them. Her work was nice and gave her the whole week off with pay but there wasn’t much for her to do since my grandmother had planned and prepaid for her entire funeral.
She even went as far to have her headstone made up and it was waiting at the cemetery to be placed on her plot. Evelyn Ruth Teeters 1950 – 2010. Short, sweet and to the point, just like my grandmother.
“Did the nursing home find the missing piece to your necklace?” Sophie already done with her conversation, whispers in my ear.
“Nope, they had me fill out a form but I doubt it’ll turn up.” I’m watching the crowd slowly make their way to the front doors.
“Maybe she meant for you to fill it.”
“She could have.” It was the strangest gift I’d ever gotten from my grandmother. Why would someone purposely remove the middle of a necklace than give it to someone as a gift? It was just odd. And the tiny scratches around the edges were still sharp, not worn down like they would be over time.
“We could go shopping for something.”
“Thanks, I’ll think about it.” I finger the rough edges of the pendant and wonder what my grandmother could have done with it, or on the other hand who would have taken it?
Sophie tugs on my arm, “Look at that guy,” she points out a man in a brown suit with gold trim.
“He looks like that magician you had at your eighth birthday party!” The man is watching the television screen mounted on the wall that scrolls through pictures of my grandmother over the years. As a picture of my grandmother and I appears on the screen, he turns and stares at me. His face is leathery and strange looking, almost like he’s wearing a mask. He smiles at me and turns back to watching the screen.
Sophie grips my arm, “That guy is a definite ten on my creepy meter, I wonder how he knew your grandmother.”
“I was just wondering the same thing.”
Stalked by Wendy Nelson
Chapter One
Mothballs and gray hair. I fear that’s all I’ll remember of today, until Sophie strides through the front door of the funeral home wearing a bright red dress and the sea of gray heads all turn to stare. I quickly cover the smile that has popped out on my face, it seems somehow wrong to smile on a day like this.
My grandmother had taken Sophie and I to a movie downtown last year and afterwards we sat at a trendy coffee shop sipping lattes and talking about everything under the sun. She had brought up the subject of funerals and told us that if and when she died we were not allowed to wear black. Sophie appears to have remembered her request. I did as well, but chose a more reserved soft pink dress.
“Nice dress,” I say eyeing her up and down. “My grandmother would approve.” Sophie links her arm through mine. “Damn straight she would have approved, you didn’t think I’d forget did you?”
“You never forget anything.”
“Ha ha, very funny Mya.” But as soon as the words leave her mouth, her smile fades and she turns to look away from me. I grip her arm tighter and we stand there linked together not needing to fill the silence with meaningless chitchat. We’re both feeling the pain of loss. My grandmother was as much in Sophie’s life as she was in mine.
So there we were amidst the black clothes and gray heads looking like we were about to go to a Valentine’s Day dance when I spotted another out of place looking person. He looked to be around our age or maybe older. His baby blue tie caught my eye and when I looked up to study his face I saw that his eyes were the same blue. Our eyes suddenly lock and I turn away embarrassed to be caught staring.
Seconds later I tried for a second peek but he was gone. Maybe I made him up in my head? Why else would a young good-looking guy be at my grandmother’s funeral?
I turn to say something to Sophie but she’s in a conversation with an older man who’s talking to her chest and not her face. Great. Now I’ll get to hear her complain about the fact that she should be able to wear what she wants and not have men ogle her. We go over this at least five times a year. I tell her if she wants to wear clothes that show major cleavage than she has to get used to guys staring. And they won’t always be the hot guys you want to be looking, looking.
I glance around the room. My mom is talking with the funeral director who looks like he could be a hundred years old. When we arrived this morning he greeted us with weak trembling handshakes. He held onto my hand as he explained to us what the order of events would be. I was relieved when he informed us my grandmother wished to have a closed casket. I can almost trick myself into thinking she’s not even in there. Like it’s some kind of hoax and she’ll breeze through the door at any moment. But she doesn’t.
The past three days leading up to today have been extremely hard on my mom. I’ve found her curled up on the couch many times wrapped in the quilt my grandmother made, staring off into space. I bring her cups of tea but they end up growing cold and untouched.
The boxes we cleared from the nursing home are all stacked in a corner of the basement. I’m not sure if my mom will ever go through them. Her work was nice and gave her the whole week off with pay but there wasn’t much for her to do since my grandmother had planned and prepaid for her entire funeral.
She even went as far to have her headstone made up and it was waiting at the cemetery to be placed on her plot. Evelyn Ruth Teeters 1950 – 2010. Short, sweet and to the point, just like my grandmother.
“Did the nursing home find the missing piece to your necklace?” Sophie already done with her conversation, whispers in my ear.
“Nope, they had me fill out a form but I doubt it’ll turn up.” I’m watching the crowd slowly make their way to the front doors.
“Maybe she meant for you to fill it.”
“She could have.” It was the strangest gift I’d ever gotten from my grandmother. Why would someone purposely remove the middle of a necklace than give it to someone as a gift? It was just odd. And the tiny scratches around the edges were still sharp, not worn down like they would be over time.
“We could go shopping for something.”
“Thanks, I’ll think about it.” I finger the rough edges of the pendant and wonder what my grandmother could have done with it, or on the other hand who would have taken it?
Sophie tugs on my arm, “Look at that guy,” she points out a man in a brown suit with gold trim.
“He looks like that magician you had at your eighth birthday party!” The man is watching the television screen mounted on the wall that scrolls through pictures of my grandmother over the years. As a picture of my grandmother and I appears on the screen, he turns and stares at me. His face is leathery and strange looking, almost like he’s wearing a mask. He smiles at me and turns back to watching the screen.
Sophie grips my arm, “That guy is a definite ten on my creepy meter, I wonder how he knew your grandmother.”
“I was just wondering the same thing.”
Dear Wendy -
Thanks for participating in the webinar!
Thanks also for sending along these sample pages. Your characters leap off the page - great work!
If anything, what I see in these opening pages is that you are relying a hair too much on "telling." You can slow it down a bit in terms of pacing and show the reader how these two girls are reacting at grandma's funeral. You don't have to "tell" us everything - Sophie and how guys react to her, what mom is doing, seeing a hot boy. It feels a bit frenetic in terms of narrative voice and while I agree that she's likely feeling frenetic, I'd rather see if organically. Maybe she can't sit still. Maybe she's obsessively checking for her iPhone that he mom made her leave at home - things like that. These are great characters and I think the relationships you're developing are going to be awesome enough to really hook the reader. So, let them breathe a bit. Cut some of the telling and show us more.
Thanks sincerely,
Happy writing,
Sara Megibow
Thanks for participating in the webinar!
Thanks also for sending along these sample pages. Your characters leap off the page - great work!
If anything, what I see in these opening pages is that you are relying a hair too much on "telling." You can slow it down a bit in terms of pacing and show the reader how these two girls are reacting at grandma's funeral. You don't have to "tell" us everything - Sophie and how guys react to her, what mom is doing, seeing a hot boy. It feels a bit frenetic in terms of narrative voice and while I agree that she's likely feeling frenetic, I'd rather see if organically. Maybe she can't sit still. Maybe she's obsessively checking for her iPhone that he mom made her leave at home - things like that. These are great characters and I think the relationships you're developing are going to be awesome enough to really hook the reader. So, let them breathe a bit. Cut some of the telling and show us more.
Thanks sincerely,
Happy writing,
Sara Megibow
Just when I get rolling....
It happens every day. Just when I'm on a roll the oven timer beeps. It's time to pick up my two boys from school. Now don't get me wrong, I love my children, and seeing their adorable little faces light up when they spot me from across the playground is priceless. But come on! I just get into my groove and wham! I'm done for the day. Gotta run, the timer just went off.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Where I am right now
So far my novel "Stalked" has been edited up to about chapter 10 by the wonderful Karin Simpson who is the Head of the English Department at Sutton High School. I'm waiting anxiously for her grade eleven's to critique my first five chapters!
I had a bit of a set back last week when my MacBook decided to crash and I lost a week's worth of writing. BOO. But that's what you get for not backing up everyday! I thought every couple of days would be okay to back up my work to our home server but apparently that's not good enough. Now on the advice of my husband I am working in Google Dropbox. It saves all my work online so if my computer ever crashes it's all there.
When my manuscript is all edited and pretty looking I can't wait to start the submission process again. It's not for the faint of heart I'll tell ya. Long wait times and rejection letters are bound to come. I'm ready. Bring it.
I had a bit of a set back last week when my MacBook decided to crash and I lost a week's worth of writing. BOO. But that's what you get for not backing up everyday! I thought every couple of days would be okay to back up my work to our home server but apparently that's not good enough. Now on the advice of my husband I am working in Google Dropbox. It saves all my work online so if my computer ever crashes it's all there.
When my manuscript is all edited and pretty looking I can't wait to start the submission process again. It's not for the faint of heart I'll tell ya. Long wait times and rejection letters are bound to come. I'm ready. Bring it.
I've been chosen!
I've been asked to attend and speak at the York Region Writer's Guild workshop in May. I'll be talking to teenagers who love to write about my experiences so far with writing/editing/submitting/agents/publishers. I'm not an expert by any means but I can tell them what I've been through and we'll go from there! Also it never hurts to try and build a fan base for my young adult novel "Stalked."
Friday, November 26, 2010
They picked me!
The grade eleven students at Sutton District High School picked my book "Stalked" over "Brave New World" as their book of choice!
I've had my first few chapters edited by the wonder Karin and can't wait to start hearing some comments from the students.
I've had my first few chapters edited by the wonder Karin and can't wait to start hearing some comments from the students.
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