Thirty Days and Thirty Nights of Literary Abandon

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Hello there!

Today is the day to post for Alex J Cavanaugh's Insecure Writers Support Group. This group consists of a ton of bloggers who blog about what they're struggling with, what they've learnt, what they'd like to share, or...what...ever.

I was going to miss posting today but decided to post about what I'm doing - NaNoWriMo. Not everyone agrees with the idea of whipping yourself into a writing frenzy for 30 days, and of course there are negatives as well as positives. I choose to paddle my own canoe and think it's a brilliant idea, gives me the excuse to say 'no' to many onerous commitments etc, so I'll be participating for the fifth time.

Like most things I do, I abide by my own rules. Last NaNo I spent most of the month researching the issues surrounding the Afghanistan Wars. I probably wouldn't have a fraction of that research completed except for the motivation of the month. By the end of November I had what was mainly a 50,000 word knowledge dump, but hey, that's important when you choose to write a novel with big issues that you need to get right, even if you'll never use most of it. I know Alex used a NaNo month in 2010 to work on his second Cassa novel and managed to get the words down on the page. 

And I probably never would have started my first novel, a Harlequin-style category romance, except for NaNo four years ago. I can't just concentrate on one thing at a time, so I have been busy finishing all my NaNo novels. Recently I decided to take the plunge and submit my first novel to HarlequinEscape. A few tweaks to go (which I will be doing in conjunction with writing my new novel, Fijian Princess, which I AM VERY EXCITED ABOUT!) This time I have outlined, researched (well, I had to do something writerly during my 6 weeks in Fiji, lol!) and am going to start with the final chapter, work backwards, (I know how it begins and ends, but the middle will be a surprise) and hope it all comes together.

So I won't be posting often during NaNoWriMo unless something comes up that just can't wait for December. I'll be displaying my Word Meter so you can check on my progress. Failing floods, famines or pestilence (whoops, I shouldn't say that. I live in Australia, the land of natural disasters!), I will write 50,000 words of Fijian Princess and finally complete my first NaNo novel, Ruby, because, you know what--it may not seem so, but I am one very determined cookie when it comes to my writing.

Here is a link to a great list of resources to help you write a novel, courtesy of Nathan Bransford. It'll take a month to get through if you follow all the excellent links, but well worth it, especially for a debut novelist.

As Donna Hole (my co-host) and many of our members are also participating in NaNoWriMo, RomanticFridayWriters will be on hiatus as always during November. We kick off December with a Holiday Spirit blogfest. I hope some of you will join us and tell us what the holiday period means to you - traditions, recipes, celebrations...Click on the badge to learn more...the Linky will be going up soon...

I wish all participants well. I'm 'parisden' if you want to buddy up. 

Now if you have time, click the IWSG badge and read some more posts...

Song of the Humpback Whale - or 'Scientific Research'? The annual whale wars begin in the Antarctic.

Hi friends!

Sitting on the deck at the beach watching the humpback whales (Latin name  Megaptera novaeangliae - 'big-winged New Englander') -  take their annual migration south to the Antarctic, I wonder which of these beautiful creatures is destined to board a Japanese whaler ship bloody and battered as a 'scientific experiment' and which will swim past heading north after its annual feed in the cold Antarctic waters during  the Southern Hemisphere's summer. 

Some whales stay in the mid-Southern Ocean, while others feed at the edge of the pack ice. Their hunters understand their predictable movements, making them relatively easy prey. This annual battle is fought in the Antarctic with the Sea Shepherd and Greenpeace vessels hounding the huge Japanese refrigerated ships. Their philosophy is while the Japanese are fighting them they're leaving the whales alone. All the action is live on our television screens nightly. It's about to begin again...

Whaling has a long and cruel history. Australia itself, even though vehemently opposed to whale hunting today, only ceased to participate in the 1970s. Today it is easy to judge the Japanese who continue to claim they need to kill whales for 'scientific research' and that it's part of their culture, even though many Japanese people have joined in the global protests against this practice, claiming that tons of unwanted whale meat and by products languish in cold rooms.

According to the anti - whaling 'terrorist' Sea Shepherd captain, Canadian Paul Watson, alongside Japan, other countries and tribes continue to whale hunt. There's Norway, the Inuit in Alaska, USA, the Yupik in Siberia, Denmark, along with aboriginal groups in Canada and Iceland. 

Where there's whales there's birds aplenty.

Whaling is a topic dear to my heart. I have explored this issue in one of my novels. I found this poem for the frontispiece:

           Song of the Humpback Whale

From oceans huge with time the whales surface

and plunge in a rolling of hills. The curious soft

indigo explosion of their cries

that trail like comets in the night are heard as

trumpet-calls, submerged, sharp, shuddering,

as the spatial music of gulls, as sounds of blunt

tugs nosing mournfully through eternal mist.

It is a salt-white sorcery: they sing

of artic pilgrimage, the bleak migration

ordained by the rhythm of seasons. Buffeted

by surface storms of their known world, they flow

as we ourselves in terrible formation,

trapped each a lifetime in compelling seas,

plunging half-blinded, calling one to another

from green-scarped waves, set on divergent courses

but frozen, frozen to our destinies.

From Song of the Humpback Whales, Selected Verse by Jill Hellyer - open copyright

I am currently applying the final layer of nail polish to my first NaNo novel, Ruby, aimed at the HarlequinEscape market. This novel is a love story between a French girl, an Aussie sea captain and humpback whales. This scene is taken from Chapter Eleven where the heroine Ruby confronts a Japanese whaler. (I wanted to give both sides to the story). He addresses the diners at Ruby's hotel restaurant:

‘My name is Izuru Ito. I was brought up in a tiny fishing village in Japan. Everyone was involved in whaling, including my whole family. You must understand. It was our life for generations. I followed my father before me, becoming a scientist, then a whaling ship’s captain. But it was different for me.

‘My voyages to hunt the whales started my love affair with the Southern Oceans. I fell in love with the wildness, the vastness, the remoteness. The different breeds of whales–from the humpbacks to the majestic blues–took my breath away with their haunting whale songs. To hear them singing amongst the icebergs changed my life.’

The restaurant was quiet–no one lifted a knife or fork–no one swallowed–all were mesmerized by Ito's story.

‘My voyages through this great ocean overwhelmed me. There life is in its rawest, most primal form.’ 

To Ruby it was a Moby Dick tale. She leaned closer.

‘It took me many expeditions, but I came to appreciate how fragile and utterly beautiful life and the natural environment really are. Seeing whales harpooned became an ugly paradox. I had to make a choice. I chose life over death. I still hunt whales, but as an object of beauty, not prey.’

Some of the guests were dabbing their eyes. A slow clap began, picked up by everyone. Ito looked around, humbled.

‘Tomorrow will be an experience none of us will ever forget. The whales await. They are close. Tonight gave us a glimpse. Tomorrow, the conditions will be perfect. For those of you who have never seen whales up close, prepare yourself. It is a most spiritual moment.’ He gave them the thumbs up. ‘Thank you for listening to my story.’ 

He stood and bowed politely.

And was gone.

Guess my character's age blogfest! Can you suggest improvements?

If you're looking for my book review post, it's the next one down!

Guess my character's age blogfest!

Brenda Drake is hosting a blogfest!Here are her instructions:

Post the first 250 words of your finished, or not quite finished, manuscript (any genre) to your blog. This contest is about voice--whether or not your character's voice matches his or her's age. So if you mention the age or school grade in the first 250 words, please edit it out or block it out for this contest. Don't list the genre or title on your posts. If your 250 words falls in the middle of a sentence, continue to the end of the sentence.

From December 8th-9th hop around each others' blogs and try to guess the age of the character, give critiques, or praise. Revise your entries, if you want, and email them to me by 11:59PM (EST) December 10th. (If you want, you may skip the blogfest/critique portion of this contest and just enter the contest.)

The winners will be chosen from the list of twenty semi-finalists by our fantabulous guest judge ...

Gabriela Lessa, editor

Here is my 257 word beginning of revised Chapter One of my first NaNo novel. How old is Ruby?

The moment Ruby stepped outside the observation lounge she saw him.

He was leaning against the deck rail watching the humpbacks. Mon dieu! The glorious creatures frolicking in the Pacific waters took her breath away, but the sight of the captain in his white uniform delivered the knockout blow.

He turned, saw her and smiled. She was lost in eyes that had the ocean in their depths. His long lashes were the colour of sand, no doubt bleached by days at sea. Blond curls peeked from under his captain's hat.  

She stepped towards him.

A wave slapped against the boat, spraying them in froth. ‘Merde!’ Ruby yelped as she slipped, sliding towards the rail.

He was beside her in an instant. ‘Steady on!’ He lifted her, drawing her towards him in one smooth movement.

‘Thanks.’ Ruby laughed as she wobbled in his arms, glad she hadn’t sprawled on the deck and landed at his feet, although that could have been interesting.

‘You okay?’ he asked, leading her to the deck rail.

‘Yes. Foolish of me. Sorry.’

‘Nothing to be sorry about. Decks can be deadly. I’m glad I was here to help.’

‘So am I. You’ve no idea.’

He laughed, a rollicking sound, perfect in the primeval setting of ocean and whales. ‘What a glorious day.’

‘Oui, yes, it is very beautiful.’

 ‘Oh, you dropped something,’ Ruby said, reaching for a small book lying in the puddle at her feet. She turned it over.

‘Aha, Moby Dick. What else would the captain of a whaling boat read?’

• Critique, comments, suggested improvements welcome!

#Romantic Friday Writers story - this week's theme - Heart Stopper!

Romantic Friday Writers is a blogfest every Friday co-ordinated by myself and Francine Howarth. It is a fun event, showcasing the work of many fine writers who write romantic flash fiction or poetry under 400 words to a given theme. Click on the icon in my sidebar or the link at the end of my post to check out others participating today or join the blogfest yourself. You will be most welcome. We are also found on twitter @RFWER. Each week we choose a runner up and a Featured Writer. 


Today's extract from my WIP is set at a party celebrating the opening of Ruby's hotel in Noosa Heads. Ruby, the heroine, has been romanced by Ito, a Japanese businessman, after her break up with the hero, Michael. Ito, of course, is up to no good...

The sensual tug of Van Morrison’s Days Like This percolated through Ruby, potent as the champagne she’d tasted earlier. Ito’s hand lightly clasped hers, the other warmed the arch of her back. She moved where he guided her, surrendering to the music and the dance.

She relaxed into him. His hands moved to cradle the back of her neck as he pulled her closer. When their lips met everything moved in slow motion as the velvety tones of the singer's voice filled the room and her head.

‘Ruby, I must have you tonight,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve been patient. Will you come to me when the dance is over?’

An answer trembled on her lips. Ito moved closer, then turned rigid in her arms. The music stopped. Silence held like a shaken heartbeat.

Ruby pulled away from Ito and turned towards the entrance.  She stood on tiptoe to see, shaky in her high heels. Her heart stopped its fluttery beat.

Framed in the doorway Ruby saw a vision glimmering in black silk, eyes like huge pools of liquid chocolate scanning the room. Her dark hair was swept upwards in a dramatic style that showed off the perfection of her face and the slender length of her creamy neck, smooth as alabaster. Diamonds glittered at her ears and throat, catching the light as she scanned the crowd.

Ruby shivered.  

This chiselled marble perfection must be Ito’s wife.

She had come for him.

Imperious head held high, the woman moved across the floor towards where Ruby and Ito stood rooted to the spot, clutching hands like doomed sailors. Couples parted like the Red Sea as the graceful creature slid by like a proud ship. As she drew closer to Ito and Ruby, Ruby recoiled from eyes as cold as black ice, cruel lips drawn in a scarlet slash.

Ruby felt Ito shudder as he dropped her hand.

Why didn’t someone wake her up from this nightmare? Ito stood beside her, his arms stiff, his face stony. Ruby wanted to run but her legs could scarcely hold her up. She shook like Marie Antoinette at the guillotine, waiting for the blade to drop.

‘And who is it this time, Ito-san? Which pretty little birdie have you snatched from the nest? Does she know you have a wife and children in Japan?’ Her pitiless gaze moved from Ito to Ruby.

‘Tell me, little red-headed girl, am I in time or am I too late?’

 Word count: 409  FCA.

To read more flash fiction of 400 words or less, with a romance element,  go here.

 

#RomanticFridayWriters challenge - my story, 'Coming Home.'

If you're looking for the Wendy Marcus interview, go to the previous post.

It's great to be home again after a wonderful trip. I always suffer from jet lag (try 21 hours on a plane), but this time it's combined with a vicious virus as I explained in my previous post.  So here's my first post for Romantic Friday Writers which I set up before I left. I knew I'd be rubbish all week. I look forward to getting around and visiting all your wonderful blogs as soon as I get my land legs again.

Now to #RomanticFridayWriters post for Friday 22 July...The theme for the week is 'Coming Home' in honour of my return.

My entry is an excerpt about three-quarters of the way through my first (unpublished) novel called 'Ruby', genre, Sweet Romance. 

The hero and heroine had broken up. The hero, Michael, had left for Antarctica to join the anti-whaling movement, while the heroine, Ruby, had been busily running her boutique hotel at Noosa in Queensland. She is stunned (and delighted?) to find him on her doorstep at three in the morning…

COMING HOME

The steady throb of a motor bike crunching the gravel woke her. She glanced at her mobile. Three a.m!  

Who could it be? If she screamed, would anyone hear? Having her own quarters next to the hotel had its downside.

She hadn’t locked up, so comfortable was she in the sleepy resort town. She stumbled out of bed, tripping over her slippers. Merde! She reached the door, turned the lock, then grabbed her phone and started to tap in ‘000.’

Someone knocked. Softly.

‘Who…who is it?’ she called, before she hit the final ‘0.’ The phone fell, she snatched her robe and slipped it on. She ran her hands through her hair, and stood, trembling.

‘Ruby. It’s Michael. I’m back.’

 Michael was back? But he was never coming back.

She ran to the door and fumbled it open. She stood, her eyes full of him.

‘Michael.’

‘Yes, it’s me.’

‘I’m not dreaming?’

‘No, here I stand. The one and only.’ He flipped his palms outward.

His face had carved into hard angles, his eyes like cold crystal. Where had the warm ocean gone? A soft gasp whispered from her throat.

‘Why do you look like a homeless person?’

‘Oh this?’ He lifted his battered Akubra and slapped it onto his crumpled cargo shorts. His hair now fell to his shoulders and hadn’t been combed for sometime.

 ‘I’m sorry I don’t meet your dress code for middle-of-the-night assignations. I forgot I was wearing rags, but I couldn’t wait to see you.’

Sudden panic gripped her.

‘Michael, why are you here? Has something happened?’

He stepped forward, reaching up his arms, leaning them against the doorframe, enclosing her.

‘Look at you,’ he whispered, his eyes raking up and down her body, ‘your mop of curls, your lovely face, your silly robe.’ He flipped the belt. ‘I haven’t seen you in this get up before either,’ he chuckled. ‘But I don’t see any scars. I thought you might be left with some scars.’

Scars? Is that why he was here? He couldn’t know about the fire, surely.

‘For God’s sake, Michael, give it to me straight. Why are you here?’

‘I just got off the boat. I’m an uncivilized cretin. I must have scared you. Sorry my darling.’

These were the words she’d dreamed of hearing.

‘Michael,’ she whispered, as she reached for him and drew him inside, ‘you’ve come home.’

***

I hope you enjoyed my #RomanticFridayWriters story.
Click on the image to read more short stories...

398 words.