Howdy!
Wow. Today is the day I finish my novel, My Fair Demon. This was a rough book to write. I love the hero so much but, as he is in the context of the story--stubborn, opinionated, and down write wild at times--he was a hard one to write.
I think that the best characters are the ones that fight you every inch of the way, btw, the ones who sink the deepest in your heart.
Take Blalock, for example. In The Devil To Pay, he was a clever, handsome demon who didn't give a damn about anything except finishing his assignment successfully and getting back to his nice comfy pit, torturing poor souls for all eternity.
Then, the impossible happened.
He failed.
So, the book My Fair Demon is about his punishment. This time, he's human, he's going crazy with human emotions and insatiable lusts, and he has a beautiful woman he must train to trap men's souls. Oh, yeah. Did I mention he's a hottie? An ultra hottie.
Oh, and he's against the the man who's soul he's trying to steal, his mother, the chic that the Devil sends to thwart him, and the Devil himself, of course.
But that's not the worst of it. Oh, no. The heroine is temptation with a capital 'T' and she's got a thang for him, LOL.
Ahem. So, now I'm at the end of the book, where I give him over to his wonderful heroine and a deserving 'Happy Ending.'
Everybody's just peaches.
That is, except me.
I've come to love the guy, too. I'm so going to miss him when the story's over.
So, here's my question to you all. Ever get to the end of a book--one you're writing, or reading--get upset that you have to finish?
I have. In fact, I once put off writing the end of the story for a whole year. But, in the end, I knew I had to finish, because let's face it. Every hero deserves his happy ending.
The best therapy I can think of is to start another book, lol. Of course, I still have revisions ahead of me, so I can hang on to Blalock a bit longer.
Have a great day and Happy Reading!
Pam
www.pamlabud.com
www.resplendencepublishing.com
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Urban Fantasy, an ageless genre...
Hi everyone!
It's been a great week for me, both in my personal life and in my writing life. In addition to my usual full time job, kids, and house stuff, I have managed to attend a high school football game this friday and also spend 12 hours with the high school choir in an all day retreat.
That, in addition to living with two teenagers, sort of makes me an expert in the field of youth, and after finishing my first Urban Fantasy tale, I think I'm up to the job of discussing what I like to think of 'the ageless genre.'
Wikepedia says:
"Urban fantasy is a subset of contemporary fantasy, consisting of magical novels and stories set in contemporary, real-world, urban settings--as opposed to 'traditional' fantasy set in wholly imaginary landscapes, even ones containing imaginary cities, or having most of their action take place in them. Urban fantasy may also refer to more modern versions of 'traditional' fantasy worlds. The modern urban fantasy protagonist faces extraordinary circumstances as plots unfold in either open (where magic or paranormal events are commonly accepted to exist) or closed (where magical powers or creatures are concealed) worlds."
It also goes on to say that it has existed since the 1920's, often in the form of children's fiction, and then became coined as a term in the 1980s. In short, and 'ageless' genre.
While I am not an expert, I can tell you that it's a very fascinating and exciting genre. I have recently finished and I'm now doing revisions on my first urban fantasy novel. I wrote it originally for my younger teen daughter, but I'm finding that it's just as enjoyable and timely as anything I've ever written.
The story, Grave Danger, (working title) is the first of a series, The Blue Star Baby Trilogy, has not yet found a publisher, though I do have one that is very interested in seeing the finished manuscript.
I describe the story as: A post apocalyptic zombie killing love story.
Although urban fantasy, is often billed as young adult, but I think it can appeal to everyone.
After all, who doesn't enjoy a story about a young hero or heroine facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles, evil demons, a downtrodden society, and the possibility of young love?
I know I do. The thing I love best about urban fantasy, though, is it's energy. These books often take place in the future, on an alien world, or even in a vastly different contemporary setting.
Urban fantasy usually is written in a series of stories with one larger arc to tie them together. They can either be a romance, or have romantic elements, and you can be sure the action is nonstop and the story edgy.
But most of all, I like to think of them as ageless energy. IF you're young, then you can totally identify with the fast paced and exciting plotlines, and if you're 'ahem' mature, like me, then you can be sympathetic to the conflicts of the characters.
It's easy for us to identify with, after life itself is a struggle, whether you're the heroine in a futuristic zombie love story, or an overworked nurse trying to get through bad traffic to go home and sleep for five hours before your next shift.
Some really awesome urban fantasy authors? Eve Kenin, Laurell K. Hamilton, Karen Marie Moning, Jim Butcher, and Marjorie M. Liu, to name a few. Check 'em out.
I love this stuff, so if you have some suggestions on what you like, or even if you have more insight to share feel free to leave me a comment!
Now, back to revisions!
Happy reading, everyone.
It's been a great week for me, both in my personal life and in my writing life. In addition to my usual full time job, kids, and house stuff, I have managed to attend a high school football game this friday and also spend 12 hours with the high school choir in an all day retreat.
That, in addition to living with two teenagers, sort of makes me an expert in the field of youth, and after finishing my first Urban Fantasy tale, I think I'm up to the job of discussing what I like to think of 'the ageless genre.'
Wikepedia says:
"Urban fantasy is a subset of contemporary fantasy, consisting of magical novels and stories set in contemporary, real-world, urban settings--as opposed to 'traditional' fantasy set in wholly imaginary landscapes, even ones containing imaginary cities, or having most of their action take place in them. Urban fantasy may also refer to more modern versions of 'traditional' fantasy worlds. The modern urban fantasy protagonist faces extraordinary circumstances as plots unfold in either open (where magic or paranormal events are commonly accepted to exist) or closed (where magical powers or creatures are concealed) worlds."
It also goes on to say that it has existed since the 1920's, often in the form of children's fiction, and then became coined as a term in the 1980s. In short, and 'ageless' genre.
While I am not an expert, I can tell you that it's a very fascinating and exciting genre. I have recently finished and I'm now doing revisions on my first urban fantasy novel. I wrote it originally for my younger teen daughter, but I'm finding that it's just as enjoyable and timely as anything I've ever written.
The story, Grave Danger, (working title) is the first of a series, The Blue Star Baby Trilogy, has not yet found a publisher, though I do have one that is very interested in seeing the finished manuscript.
I describe the story as: A post apocalyptic zombie killing love story.
Although urban fantasy, is often billed as young adult, but I think it can appeal to everyone.
After all, who doesn't enjoy a story about a young hero or heroine facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles, evil demons, a downtrodden society, and the possibility of young love?
I know I do. The thing I love best about urban fantasy, though, is it's energy. These books often take place in the future, on an alien world, or even in a vastly different contemporary setting.
Urban fantasy usually is written in a series of stories with one larger arc to tie them together. They can either be a romance, or have romantic elements, and you can be sure the action is nonstop and the story edgy.
But most of all, I like to think of them as ageless energy. IF you're young, then you can totally identify with the fast paced and exciting plotlines, and if you're 'ahem' mature, like me, then you can be sympathetic to the conflicts of the characters.
It's easy for us to identify with, after life itself is a struggle, whether you're the heroine in a futuristic zombie love story, or an overworked nurse trying to get through bad traffic to go home and sleep for five hours before your next shift.
Some really awesome urban fantasy authors? Eve Kenin, Laurell K. Hamilton, Karen Marie Moning, Jim Butcher, and Marjorie M. Liu, to name a few. Check 'em out.
I love this stuff, so if you have some suggestions on what you like, or even if you have more insight to share feel free to leave me a comment!
Now, back to revisions!
Happy reading, everyone.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Change is Good!
Hi everyone!
It's Monday morning, Labor Day, and I find myself home and virtually alone. Everyone in my house is enjoying sleeping in--husband, teenagers, dogs, even the Goodfeathers are asleep. (That's the name I gave my cockatiels-T.J. Tony, Chris, Paulie, and Missy.)
Anyway, alone my office, I'm getting ready to plug in the old laptop beside me and start working on edits and it occurred to me that change, whether it's in the depths of a manuscript, our professional life, or even our family life, is just plain hard.
Think about it. We authors spend months, and yes, sometimes years on a manuscript. We tell the story from our hearts, building characters and painstakingly plotting things out, only to have to back through it multiple times, tear it apart, and then piece it back together. Think that's easy? Not by a long shot.
Sometimes, as all writers know, it means we have to get rid of things we really loved for the good of the story. Long, beautiful description, smart, snappy dialogue. Stuff like that.
Or, we may have to add things that weren't in our original vision. For instance, sometimes, we have to decide whether to kill a character or have mercy and let him live. Don't think that's not tough because we love our characters so, and yet, it's really good drama!
In one of my books, I even killed the hero in the first five pages, lol! (See my book: Spirited Away) Of course, I brought him back as a ghost, but as one of my contest judges noted, you must really hate men!
Absolutely not! It was for the drama, and it turned out so well. That book was my first and only (so far) New York sale. But, trust me, by page 5, I had loved him so much it was very hard to have him executed.
Now, you might think that's the toughest kind of change, the one the author decides to do on her own. Not so, gentle reader.
If you're like me, you have critique partners who sometimes look at the fruits of your labor and go 'Ugh!' Not a good sign. Or, maybe you've entered your first chapter in a contest and three to five judges mark the text with all sorts of red lines and in red ink have literally left your lovely manuscript looking like it has been sliced to pieces and now it lays bleeding before you.
Then you work to repair the damage, uh thereby making it a better book, and send it to a publisher.
Then the publisher rejects you and if you're lucky they care enough about the book to send you suggestions on... Yes, you guessed it... how to change it! You do it because you want to make a sale and see your lovely little book on the shelf of the bookstore or proudly displayed on a web page.
When you finally make that sale, you are as proud as a new parent, except the editor has things she wants changed. So, sometimes after multiple revisions and edits, you turn it in and she gives you the go ahead...
And then it goes to the copy editor who even finds more stuff that's not right. Again, three more times through the book. (Do you see a pattern here?) More change.
Finally, you hold the galleys of your manuscript, that wonderful story that you've held in your heart forever and ever, and you read it through...three more times.
Now you must find all the typos, misprints, broken texts, ect... and send it back to the publisher, again, all marked up with red pencil.
Even if you're e-pubbed, by the way, the process is the same. Only it's done on the computer. (I've learned you can't cry on the keyboard. It doesn't like tears. And if it's a laptop, uh, tears on the keyboard is death to a laptop.)
Sometimes, you even have to change the kind of story you write, too. You have to expand into other genre's or other kinds of writing. For instance, I went from straight historical to historical paranormal and even urban fantasy. I also started writing short stories. I'm published in both print books and electronic. And, I feel like I'm still evolving.
The long and the short of it? Change is good. Not always fun, not always comfortable, and not always profitable. But, it is good. It challenges us, keeps us fresh, and gives us something to work toward.
Some might say that holding your book in your hand is the ultimate joy of being a writer. That's true, but only to an extent. The fun is not only in reaching the destination, my friend, but also in the journey. There's nothing more awesome than seeing a character emerge from your mind and fingertips to become a living entity on the page--or computer screen.
So in that light, I'm off do do some changing, uh revising. Happy Labor Day everyone! Enjoy the rest you've earned this year.
Happy Reading! Pam
It's Monday morning, Labor Day, and I find myself home and virtually alone. Everyone in my house is enjoying sleeping in--husband, teenagers, dogs, even the Goodfeathers are asleep. (That's the name I gave my cockatiels-T.J. Tony, Chris, Paulie, and Missy.)
Anyway, alone my office, I'm getting ready to plug in the old laptop beside me and start working on edits and it occurred to me that change, whether it's in the depths of a manuscript, our professional life, or even our family life, is just plain hard.
Think about it. We authors spend months, and yes, sometimes years on a manuscript. We tell the story from our hearts, building characters and painstakingly plotting things out, only to have to back through it multiple times, tear it apart, and then piece it back together. Think that's easy? Not by a long shot.
Sometimes, as all writers know, it means we have to get rid of things we really loved for the good of the story. Long, beautiful description, smart, snappy dialogue. Stuff like that.
Or, we may have to add things that weren't in our original vision. For instance, sometimes, we have to decide whether to kill a character or have mercy and let him live. Don't think that's not tough because we love our characters so, and yet, it's really good drama!
In one of my books, I even killed the hero in the first five pages, lol! (See my book: Spirited Away) Of course, I brought him back as a ghost, but as one of my contest judges noted, you must really hate men!
Absolutely not! It was for the drama, and it turned out so well. That book was my first and only (so far) New York sale. But, trust me, by page 5, I had loved him so much it was very hard to have him executed.
Now, you might think that's the toughest kind of change, the one the author decides to do on her own. Not so, gentle reader.
If you're like me, you have critique partners who sometimes look at the fruits of your labor and go 'Ugh!' Not a good sign. Or, maybe you've entered your first chapter in a contest and three to five judges mark the text with all sorts of red lines and in red ink have literally left your lovely manuscript looking like it has been sliced to pieces and now it lays bleeding before you.
Then you work to repair the damage, uh thereby making it a better book, and send it to a publisher.
Then the publisher rejects you and if you're lucky they care enough about the book to send you suggestions on... Yes, you guessed it... how to change it! You do it because you want to make a sale and see your lovely little book on the shelf of the bookstore or proudly displayed on a web page.
When you finally make that sale, you are as proud as a new parent, except the editor has things she wants changed. So, sometimes after multiple revisions and edits, you turn it in and she gives you the go ahead...
And then it goes to the copy editor who even finds more stuff that's not right. Again, three more times through the book. (Do you see a pattern here?) More change.
Finally, you hold the galleys of your manuscript, that wonderful story that you've held in your heart forever and ever, and you read it through...three more times.
Now you must find all the typos, misprints, broken texts, ect... and send it back to the publisher, again, all marked up with red pencil.
Even if you're e-pubbed, by the way, the process is the same. Only it's done on the computer. (I've learned you can't cry on the keyboard. It doesn't like tears. And if it's a laptop, uh, tears on the keyboard is death to a laptop.)
Sometimes, you even have to change the kind of story you write, too. You have to expand into other genre's or other kinds of writing. For instance, I went from straight historical to historical paranormal and even urban fantasy. I also started writing short stories. I'm published in both print books and electronic. And, I feel like I'm still evolving.
The long and the short of it? Change is good. Not always fun, not always comfortable, and not always profitable. But, it is good. It challenges us, keeps us fresh, and gives us something to work toward.
Some might say that holding your book in your hand is the ultimate joy of being a writer. That's true, but only to an extent. The fun is not only in reaching the destination, my friend, but also in the journey. There's nothing more awesome than seeing a character emerge from your mind and fingertips to become a living entity on the page--or computer screen.
So in that light, I'm off do do some changing, uh revising. Happy Labor Day everyone! Enjoy the rest you've earned this year.
Happy Reading! Pam
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Trippin down memory lane.
The 70's called, they want their music back...
Hello everyone!
It's Sunday night, the end of my work week, and I finally have a chance to sit back, relax, and do some writing.
The other night my husband and I were both in our office on our computers and I was messing around on myspace and I started playing songs from the files they have there. Next thing I knew I started pulling up music video files. My hubby and I had a blast watching some Brad Paisley stuff and then I suddenly had the urge to listen to some of the oldies.
It all started innocently enough. We watched some Billy Joel, which led to Elton John. The next thing I knew we had the thing turned all the way up with Bohemien Rhapsody from Queen blasting out of my computer. It was so much fun that we then listened to all the Queen stuff we could find. Of course that set off a real longing to listen to the most cool music ever, 70's rock.
I'm sure every generation thinks their music was the best, but we were both teenagers then--a few years after the Beatles music revolution when rock music was coming into it's own. Eagles. Kansas. Journey. It makes me feel 20 years younger just thinking about them.
Then, after all the hours (yes, hours) of listening and remembering, we hit one of the greatest songs ever written. American Pie. Cheesy? I think not. The entire history of Rock-n-roll is in that song, and it was so profound. Call me sentimental, but I swear it's true.
Anyway, my oldest daughter commented the next day, in utter shock, "Mom, were guys listening to Queen last night?" (I hadn't realized I'd had the computer turned up that loud. Turns out it's a huge hit with teenage boys these days. Some things never change, eh?)
Yes, I told her. we sure were. Then, it happened. My daughter, who is fast mowing through her teen years gave me a sign of approval. "Great, stuff, Mom."
Wow, who would have thought it? Now, she's borrowing my Stevie Nick's albums and listening to Eagles on the way to school. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to those old rock tunes. In a world where the youth grow up at light speed and more and more we adults have so little in common with them, I have found a bridge to connect us. Granted, it's narrow and a little shaky at times, but it's a start. And, who know's maybe I'll listen to a little of her alternative music stuff. Panic at the Disco, anyone?
Well, I'm off to work on two writing workshops I'll be giving in the near future, one on dialogue and one on emotion. It's shaping up to be a busy couple of months so far. I've got two book signings coming up, too. I'm about 1/3 of the way through my fallen angel story, and with the next couple of days off I'm planning to be working hard at writing. I'll keep you all posted!
Until then, Gentle Readers, rock on! Oh, and happy reading, too! Pam.
*Check out my webpage at: www.pamlabud.com
Hello everyone!
It's Sunday night, the end of my work week, and I finally have a chance to sit back, relax, and do some writing.
The other night my husband and I were both in our office on our computers and I was messing around on myspace and I started playing songs from the files they have there. Next thing I knew I started pulling up music video files. My hubby and I had a blast watching some Brad Paisley stuff and then I suddenly had the urge to listen to some of the oldies.
It all started innocently enough. We watched some Billy Joel, which led to Elton John. The next thing I knew we had the thing turned all the way up with Bohemien Rhapsody from Queen blasting out of my computer. It was so much fun that we then listened to all the Queen stuff we could find. Of course that set off a real longing to listen to the most cool music ever, 70's rock.
I'm sure every generation thinks their music was the best, but we were both teenagers then--a few years after the Beatles music revolution when rock music was coming into it's own. Eagles. Kansas. Journey. It makes me feel 20 years younger just thinking about them.
Then, after all the hours (yes, hours) of listening and remembering, we hit one of the greatest songs ever written. American Pie. Cheesy? I think not. The entire history of Rock-n-roll is in that song, and it was so profound. Call me sentimental, but I swear it's true.
Anyway, my oldest daughter commented the next day, in utter shock, "Mom, were guys listening to Queen last night?" (I hadn't realized I'd had the computer turned up that loud. Turns out it's a huge hit with teenage boys these days. Some things never change, eh?)
Yes, I told her. we sure were. Then, it happened. My daughter, who is fast mowing through her teen years gave me a sign of approval. "Great, stuff, Mom."
Wow, who would have thought it? Now, she's borrowing my Stevie Nick's albums and listening to Eagles on the way to school. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to those old rock tunes. In a world where the youth grow up at light speed and more and more we adults have so little in common with them, I have found a bridge to connect us. Granted, it's narrow and a little shaky at times, but it's a start. And, who know's maybe I'll listen to a little of her alternative music stuff. Panic at the Disco, anyone?
Well, I'm off to work on two writing workshops I'll be giving in the near future, one on dialogue and one on emotion. It's shaping up to be a busy couple of months so far. I've got two book signings coming up, too. I'm about 1/3 of the way through my fallen angel story, and with the next couple of days off I'm planning to be working hard at writing. I'll keep you all posted!
Until then, Gentle Readers, rock on! Oh, and happy reading, too! Pam.
*Check out my webpage at: www.pamlabud.com
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Forces of Nurture
Domestic disturbance...
Hello Gentle Readers!
I am a child of the 1950's. Well, late, late 1950's, actually. Because of that I am well and truly cursed. I was born to a mother who had it ingrained in her biology, by her mother in particular and society in general, that one must have a spotless environment.
Like many women of my age, it's a terrible condition I like to call 'cleanthehouseitis.' I have done what I could to stomp down the urge to clean my house to distraction, and I have pretty much been successful. For instance, it doesn't kill me to have a few dirty dishes in the sink. Nor am I constantly fretting the state of the laundry or the fine layer of dust that appears on my furniture and ceramic tile floors.
I have even been able to control the urge to scrub my bathrooms down to the molecular surface of the porcelian and fiberglass fixtures. My bathroom is cleaned thoroughly twice a week and when it needs it.
In spite of it all, I've managed to live a happy life...for the most part. Oh, I'll be honest. When I come home from working a 12 hour shift in the hospital seeing a sinkful of grimy pots and pans I get a little tetchy. And counters that still have the midnight snack's breadcrumbs on it sends me into near catatonia. And the state of my office...well, we won't go there.
Total chaos cripples me.
Floor to ceiling clutter crushes my creative spirit.
An extremely messy house totally depresses me.
I like to say that my home is mostly in a state of flux. Like a black hole, matter seems to be drawn in here, condenses into denser matter, and then disappears. At least that's what I hope happens to socks, important papers I never seem to locate, and my earrings.
All my years of housework avoidance recently came to a screeching halt, though. Last night I was invited to join a couple of friends at a neighborhood 'bunko' game. Although it was confusing at first, this fast paced contest of tossing dice and changing tables was almost totally enjoyable.
Enjoyable except that the hostess' home was huge, beautifully decorated with her own hand made quilts, and overflowing with exquisite decor. Oh, and it was clean enough to build computers. Asceptic enough to perform open heart surgery. Sterile enough to do molecular gene splicing.
The lady who had created and maitained such a spotless home met us at the door with a huge, kind smile and genuine joy at having guests. She served fabulous food complete with a homemade pinapple upside down cake. She was perfect. She made Martha Stewart look like a hag. I should have hated her, but I didn't.
I recognized her type immediately. A very vibrant, gifted woman. Almost a complete twin to my mother when it comes to being a housewife. Like Mom, she is a force of nurture. A shining example of a woman who'd been raised just like I had, with one exception. She's a total success when it comes to home care.
I am a complete and utter failure with domestic stuff. One only has to look at my house to see it. Most of the time I'm not all that bothered by imperfection of my abode. That lady doesn't work outside the home. (Mind you, I didn't say she doesn't work. She does, and probably way harder than I do.) She's creative, too. But her creativity comes out in incredible quilts and in caring for her lovely home. She also writes beautiful inspirational poetry.
My creativity comes out in the form of paperback novels--stories that I've yearned to write since I was old enough to read. It's a consuming passion that's only at it's pinnacle when I type the words 'the end' at the bottom of the page. It's Nirvana when I hold a book in my hands that has my name on the cover, my words on the pages inside.
I had to hold back a grin when my hostess remarked that she couldn't waste her time sitting in front of a computer all day. It was as if she thought I did nothing but stare at a blank screen. I mentioned that I did 'work' at the machine but I didn't say anything more. The night was her chance to shine, her time to show off the fruits of her labor.
I didn't mind letting her have her moment. My fufilment comes when I begin to put words on the page, when my friends and readers tell me how much they enjoyed journey we took together in the story.
After all, I'm able to push back that force of nurture most of the time and live my passion. So what if my house is messy. Writing makes me happy. It's as simple as that.
Until next time, Gentle Readers, may you find your passion and be blessed with the time and ability to enjoy it! Happy Reading, Pam.
Hello Gentle Readers!
I am a child of the 1950's. Well, late, late 1950's, actually. Because of that I am well and truly cursed. I was born to a mother who had it ingrained in her biology, by her mother in particular and society in general, that one must have a spotless environment.
Like many women of my age, it's a terrible condition I like to call 'cleanthehouseitis.' I have done what I could to stomp down the urge to clean my house to distraction, and I have pretty much been successful. For instance, it doesn't kill me to have a few dirty dishes in the sink. Nor am I constantly fretting the state of the laundry or the fine layer of dust that appears on my furniture and ceramic tile floors.
I have even been able to control the urge to scrub my bathrooms down to the molecular surface of the porcelian and fiberglass fixtures. My bathroom is cleaned thoroughly twice a week and when it needs it.
In spite of it all, I've managed to live a happy life...for the most part. Oh, I'll be honest. When I come home from working a 12 hour shift in the hospital seeing a sinkful of grimy pots and pans I get a little tetchy. And counters that still have the midnight snack's breadcrumbs on it sends me into near catatonia. And the state of my office...well, we won't go there.
Total chaos cripples me.
Floor to ceiling clutter crushes my creative spirit.
An extremely messy house totally depresses me.
I like to say that my home is mostly in a state of flux. Like a black hole, matter seems to be drawn in here, condenses into denser matter, and then disappears. At least that's what I hope happens to socks, important papers I never seem to locate, and my earrings.
All my years of housework avoidance recently came to a screeching halt, though. Last night I was invited to join a couple of friends at a neighborhood 'bunko' game. Although it was confusing at first, this fast paced contest of tossing dice and changing tables was almost totally enjoyable.
Enjoyable except that the hostess' home was huge, beautifully decorated with her own hand made quilts, and overflowing with exquisite decor. Oh, and it was clean enough to build computers. Asceptic enough to perform open heart surgery. Sterile enough to do molecular gene splicing.
The lady who had created and maitained such a spotless home met us at the door with a huge, kind smile and genuine joy at having guests. She served fabulous food complete with a homemade pinapple upside down cake. She was perfect. She made Martha Stewart look like a hag. I should have hated her, but I didn't.
I recognized her type immediately. A very vibrant, gifted woman. Almost a complete twin to my mother when it comes to being a housewife. Like Mom, she is a force of nurture. A shining example of a woman who'd been raised just like I had, with one exception. She's a total success when it comes to home care.
I am a complete and utter failure with domestic stuff. One only has to look at my house to see it. Most of the time I'm not all that bothered by imperfection of my abode. That lady doesn't work outside the home. (Mind you, I didn't say she doesn't work. She does, and probably way harder than I do.) She's creative, too. But her creativity comes out in incredible quilts and in caring for her lovely home. She also writes beautiful inspirational poetry.
My creativity comes out in the form of paperback novels--stories that I've yearned to write since I was old enough to read. It's a consuming passion that's only at it's pinnacle when I type the words 'the end' at the bottom of the page. It's Nirvana when I hold a book in my hands that has my name on the cover, my words on the pages inside.
I had to hold back a grin when my hostess remarked that she couldn't waste her time sitting in front of a computer all day. It was as if she thought I did nothing but stare at a blank screen. I mentioned that I did 'work' at the machine but I didn't say anything more. The night was her chance to shine, her time to show off the fruits of her labor.
I didn't mind letting her have her moment. My fufilment comes when I begin to put words on the page, when my friends and readers tell me how much they enjoyed journey we took together in the story.
After all, I'm able to push back that force of nurture most of the time and live my passion. So what if my house is messy. Writing makes me happy. It's as simple as that.
Until next time, Gentle Readers, may you find your passion and be blessed with the time and ability to enjoy it! Happy Reading, Pam.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Still blogging the night away!
Hello, Gentle Readers!
I just wanted to make another stop along the blogging trail. So far, I've blogged at myspace--www.myspace.com/romanceauthor, and at Live Journal, http://www.pamwriter.myjournal.com, (I think that's the address).
Next, I'll be going to my Authors Den site, www.authorsden.com/pamlabud. Check 'em out if you get the chance!
I hope everyone is having a great week so far. Things here have been good. I've not done a thing! Seriously lazy, that's me. But now I'm back at it. Yay! My other posts tonight have been about the importance of taking time to rest and then the end of the Sopranos.
For this one, I think I'll address the importance of prioritizing things. First things first. It's important in my life, first as a wife and Mom, then as a nurse, and especially as a writer. As a wife and Mom, it's pretty easy, because everyone in my household, including the dogs and birds, lol! keep my on my toes. When it's time to eat, when I can't navigate from my office to the kitchen, and so forth, and of course when they all gang up on my bed to watch movies and share some good family time. Well, the kids and dogs. The birds just add their presence by screeching in the other room.
For work, prioritizing is tantamount. As a nurse, I have to see to my patients needs first. Are they okay? In pain? Need emotional support or, (gasp!) a bedpan? Then, as charge nurse, I must help the rest of my crew get their jobs done. Sometimes it means going to staffing meetings or helping with a proceedure or test. Things like charting and bathroom breaks sometimes just have to wait. Such is the life of a nurse. Any nurse, just ask them.
As a writer, priority is job one, as well. This means you, dear writer, must have a plan. You can sit at the computer and pound on the keyboard all you want, but if you don't have a plan, you're just performing a task, and not writing. Simple as spit, really.
This means setting goals, large and small. Let me tell you, any author worth their salt will tell you about goal setting. Ask yourself the important questions. What do you want to accomplish? Set a time limit--in a year? A month, A day?
Not only that, but a plan of your writing. This can be as detailed as you want. Some writers free write the first half of thier timed sessions and then do revisions the second half. Some of us do the famed 'book in a week.' which is all freewriting without looking back, and then spend weeks working on revisions. Some revise as we go. Some have detailed synopsii or outlines, others start on page one and just go where the writing takes us. Experiment, but at least have some idea of where you want to go. Put in simple terms: Know your story's beginning, have an idea about the middle, and decide where you want to end up. If you go on a trip, you have to know your destination, right? This doesn't mean you can't change direction when you need to, either. Go ahead, give it a try. It works, you'll see.
Well, that's about it for now. I hope you all have a good rest of the week and a smashing weekend. Happy Reading! Pam.
I just wanted to make another stop along the blogging trail. So far, I've blogged at myspace--www.myspace.com/romanceauthor, and at Live Journal, http://www.pamwriter.myjournal.com, (I think that's the address).
Next, I'll be going to my Authors Den site, www.authorsden.com/pamlabud. Check 'em out if you get the chance!
I hope everyone is having a great week so far. Things here have been good. I've not done a thing! Seriously lazy, that's me. But now I'm back at it. Yay! My other posts tonight have been about the importance of taking time to rest and then the end of the Sopranos.
For this one, I think I'll address the importance of prioritizing things. First things first. It's important in my life, first as a wife and Mom, then as a nurse, and especially as a writer. As a wife and Mom, it's pretty easy, because everyone in my household, including the dogs and birds, lol! keep my on my toes. When it's time to eat, when I can't navigate from my office to the kitchen, and so forth, and of course when they all gang up on my bed to watch movies and share some good family time. Well, the kids and dogs. The birds just add their presence by screeching in the other room.
For work, prioritizing is tantamount. As a nurse, I have to see to my patients needs first. Are they okay? In pain? Need emotional support or, (gasp!) a bedpan? Then, as charge nurse, I must help the rest of my crew get their jobs done. Sometimes it means going to staffing meetings or helping with a proceedure or test. Things like charting and bathroom breaks sometimes just have to wait. Such is the life of a nurse. Any nurse, just ask them.
As a writer, priority is job one, as well. This means you, dear writer, must have a plan. You can sit at the computer and pound on the keyboard all you want, but if you don't have a plan, you're just performing a task, and not writing. Simple as spit, really.
This means setting goals, large and small. Let me tell you, any author worth their salt will tell you about goal setting. Ask yourself the important questions. What do you want to accomplish? Set a time limit--in a year? A month, A day?
Not only that, but a plan of your writing. This can be as detailed as you want. Some writers free write the first half of thier timed sessions and then do revisions the second half. Some of us do the famed 'book in a week.' which is all freewriting without looking back, and then spend weeks working on revisions. Some revise as we go. Some have detailed synopsii or outlines, others start on page one and just go where the writing takes us. Experiment, but at least have some idea of where you want to go. Put in simple terms: Know your story's beginning, have an idea about the middle, and decide where you want to end up. If you go on a trip, you have to know your destination, right? This doesn't mean you can't change direction when you need to, either. Go ahead, give it a try. It works, you'll see.
Well, that's about it for now. I hope you all have a good rest of the week and a smashing weekend. Happy Reading! Pam.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Monday, Monday...
Hello Gentle Readers!
I'm one of the few people who love Mondays. Why? Because I work weekends. Or rather, weekend nights. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday every single week of the year. I do this because I have a family who need me during the week and it helps cut down on some of the chaos in my house.
Technically I'm off on Sunday morning at 7:30. But, since I must sleep, I don't count it as a true day off. I usually get up in the late afternoon and do some house stuff and collapse somewhere around midnight.
Ah, sleep. I remember what that is. A whole 8 hours at night like 90% of the rest of the world. But, night shift people are different because we have to stay awake until daylight and that means every night spent in our beds is a gift.
Because of my job I also work 12 hours instead of the usual 8 or 10. It's better this way because it means more days off. More days to write my stories and run my kids everywhere and generally keep my house together. I am woman, hear me snore, uh, roar. Whatever.
I work the graveyard shift. It's called that because back in the old days a huge fear was premature buriel. People were paid to sit awake all night in a graveyard and listen for the little bells that were rigged up at each grave site. If someone was buried prematurely, then they could wake up, ring the bell, and get to rejoin the world of the living.
Of course, during modern times that never happens. Well, almost never. A nurse I know who is the educator for the hospital I work at tells a story about when she was younger and had taken a corpse to the morgue late one night. As she pushed the angel cart, "(yeah, for real. It's a covered stretcher that's used to transport the recently expired to the morgue without the hospital occupants seeing the evidence of a body. Cool, huh!) Ahem. As she pushed the angel cart into the morgue, a very frail woman's voice sounded: "Excuuuusssse me? Excuse me...do you have a blanket? It's very cold in here...!" Poor thing had been discharged to the 'eternal care unit,' a bit prematurely.
Needless to say, the nurse got the shock of her life. That's what's cool about being a nurse. You never know what to expect.
Well, I'm off to write my next blog. Until next time...Happy Reading! Take care, Pam.
I'm one of the few people who love Mondays. Why? Because I work weekends. Or rather, weekend nights. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday every single week of the year. I do this because I have a family who need me during the week and it helps cut down on some of the chaos in my house.
Technically I'm off on Sunday morning at 7:30. But, since I must sleep, I don't count it as a true day off. I usually get up in the late afternoon and do some house stuff and collapse somewhere around midnight.
Ah, sleep. I remember what that is. A whole 8 hours at night like 90% of the rest of the world. But, night shift people are different because we have to stay awake until daylight and that means every night spent in our beds is a gift.
Because of my job I also work 12 hours instead of the usual 8 or 10. It's better this way because it means more days off. More days to write my stories and run my kids everywhere and generally keep my house together. I am woman, hear me snore, uh, roar. Whatever.
I work the graveyard shift. It's called that because back in the old days a huge fear was premature buriel. People were paid to sit awake all night in a graveyard and listen for the little bells that were rigged up at each grave site. If someone was buried prematurely, then they could wake up, ring the bell, and get to rejoin the world of the living.
Of course, during modern times that never happens. Well, almost never. A nurse I know who is the educator for the hospital I work at tells a story about when she was younger and had taken a corpse to the morgue late one night. As she pushed the angel cart, "(yeah, for real. It's a covered stretcher that's used to transport the recently expired to the morgue without the hospital occupants seeing the evidence of a body. Cool, huh!) Ahem. As she pushed the angel cart into the morgue, a very frail woman's voice sounded: "Excuuuusssse me? Excuse me...do you have a blanket? It's very cold in here...!" Poor thing had been discharged to the 'eternal care unit,' a bit prematurely.
Needless to say, the nurse got the shock of her life. That's what's cool about being a nurse. You never know what to expect.
Well, I'm off to write my next blog. Until next time...Happy Reading! Take care, Pam.
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