Tag Archives: fiction

Yay! Books!

I just got back from the book sale at Ilion Free Public Library.  Yay!  Books!

Picture taken last year when I went to the sale.

I heard about the sale yesterday, at the Ilion Village Board of Trustees meeting.  Regular readers may recall my side hustle of covering some meetings for Sentinel Media.  I like to include a picture with the story so thought a couple pictures of the book sale would be nice.  The fact that I could also purchase books was strictly by the way.

Lots of books!

The books are donated by patrons, not just discarded books from the collection, so there are a lot of new and like-new books available.

And the price is right!

Last year I found some biographies of famous figures from the American Revolution.  This year I lucked out on fiction.  I try not to read a whole lot of fiction, because I have a hard time putting it down once I start reading, but I love it.

Another angle.

The sale continues through Saturday, Nov. 22.  They keep putting out more books as books sell, so even if you have stopped by, you might like to check back.  I hope to do so later in the week.

Ilion Free Public Library is located at 78 West St., Ilion, NY, phone number 315-894-5028.

 

Do Not Enter? Ha!

Hello and welcome to another Tired Tuesday Post.

Oh dear, I typed in that one sentence, and now I am blank.  A result of being tired?  Let’s pretend it is.

Spoiler Alert: I entered.

When I took my walk this morning, I went down the street pictured above, purely for the sake of entering where it said not to.  Regular readers know I am a great fan of doing that.   I have been trying to walk every day, at least for a short time.  Really, I do not know how I went from training to run a 15K to struggling to complete a 20-minute walk, but so it is.  I went as long as 40 minutes on Sunday and felt pretty good about that.

After more than ten years at it, it seems I am also struggling to make daily blog posts, and when I do make them daily, to make them interesting.  However, with writing as with running (and, let’s face it, most things), I feel one must persevere.

A little inspiration to encourage my perseverance .

I looked in my Media Library for another picture to pep things up and found this profound thought.  I am trying to get back to writing more fiction, beginning with a couple murder mystery scripts then perhaps getting into a novel.  Can it all start with a blog post?  I think so.  Persevere, Cindy! Persevere!

 

And I Made a Blog Post

Oh, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday! Do I have to define that every time? I would think regular readers would get tired of hearing how I feel inclined to swoon onto a handy chaise lounge, dramatically posed with the back of one wrist to my forehead (predictive text certainly expected me to type it). I still have not acquired that elusive chaise lounge. My house is such a mess these days I would be hard pressed to find a place to put it. Some days I struggle to find a bare area to swoon.

I must confess I spent most of the day reading a Victoria Holt novel. Holt is a mistress of the kind of exciting, mysterious romances where the heroine is in love with an arrogant, exasperating, devastatingly attractive dude that may or may not be a murderer, usually of his wife. You can judge me for reading this sort of potato chip fiction, but hers are very well written. On the vaguely productive side, I went running in the morning and currently have a load of laundry in the drier.

It has long been my contention that it is useless to try to get anything done on a Sunday. It has also long been my practice to try to get something done anyways, or at least beat myself up for failing to do so. If beating oneself up burned calories, I would handily meet my weight loss goals.

I do not know where I thought I was going with this blog post. I guess I just hoped to rattle on for 200 words. Score! I guess that makes three things I got done today.

Writing About Writing for a Change

Looking through my notebook for something else, I came across the following I had written on an unknown date, and I do not believe I have used it.  Since the only thing I can come up with now is more writing about not writing, I thought this would be a nice change of pace.

Having decided to concentrate on my writing once again, I further decided to start a new novel and finish it quickly. This is hazardous, given my long history of starting novels and NOT finishing them, but I am always one to take a chance.  In my further defense, I did write the closing scenes of the last novel I vowed I would finish, so one could argue that I finished the first draft.  However, I am no hand at argument.

So I was wondering what kind of a novel to write, and I had this idea to write a tale of romantic suspense.  I enjoy some of those Gothics, you know, the ones that show a castle under a full moon with a woman in a long dress running away.  Victoria Holt is the mistress of that genre. I love her.  I do not feel equipped to write a real period piece, but romance and suspense, I can do, or so I think (perhaps I flatter myself, but let’s not disillusion me at this point).

I know romance publishers often have strict guidelines, so I did a Google search of romantic suspense publishers.  I have been having better luck with Google lately, and I did find something.

One publisher said they wanted strong, smart heroines.  I can do that.  I hate having a weak, wimpy lead character (NEVER MIND how I may act in real life; I am not writing an autobiography).  They want her to have clearly defined goals and meet with real obstacles. Hell, that’s just good fiction.  What does your character want?  What keeps her from getting it?  Another thing they like is snappy banter, like from 1930’s screwball comedies.  I love those old movies!  And I am good at writing dialogue, even if I do say so myself.

Things they don’t want:  when the only obstacle to love is fear from previous bad relationships.  OK.  Men who condescend or are meant to woman.  Well, that’s good.  I hate it when women fall for those creeps!

That was when I got tired of writing about writing and started taking notes on the novel I wanted to start.  Full disclosure:  it petered out before I got very far.  However, now that I have typed all that in, I am anxious to try again.  I’ll be sure to keep you posted as to how it goes.

 

The Million Dollar Question Is…

You know, I am really, really sick of Facebook memes that ask if you would do something for a million dollars: live without the internet, stay in a haunted house, slap your cousin (watch out, Mary Beth!).  You would be amazed at all the stuff you can supposedly get paid a million dollars to do.  OK, now everybody, even though you have already spent your millions (I’m guessing most of you would do more than one of the above-mentioned or other chores), listen to me carefully, I’ll put it in bold caps, in case you need the emphasis:

NOBODY IS GOING TO PAY YOU A MILLION DOLLARS FOR DOING ANY OF THOSE THINGS!!!!!

Yes, I felt it needed all five exclamation points.

I have expounded in this space before about my abhorrence of hypothetical questions.  If only I could remember the titles of any of them, I could make a ping-back (something I have become very adept at doing) (Under the heading It Takes So Little To Please Some People: I get so proud of myself whenever I can do anything on the computer).

I know, I know, these questions are conversation starters, meant to stretch our brains in unaccustomed directions.  I guess it seems kind of silly for an alleged fiction-writer such as myself to rail against asking a questions that have no basis in reality.  After all, what is fiction but finding different answers to questions that begin, “What if…?”

Well, I stand by my grumpiness regarding the million dollar question.  For one thing, on no Facebook post I have seen has it ever, EVER engendered a lively conversation, just a whole bunch of people saying, “Yes,” “F***, yeah,”  etc.  The last time I saw it (today), the million dollar task was to stay in a haunted house.  I commented, “You are more likely to find someone willing to charge you big bucks for you to stay in the purportedly haunted house.”  Everybody ignored me, as, indeed, they ignored other affirmative answers and both silly pictures (a Ghost Busters t-shirt and an actual ghost).  I’m not miffed at being ignored; I’m just pointing out that this was no conversation starter.

Anyways, this is my blog post for today. You will note:  I did not whine about not being able to write a decent blog post.  I contend that I did not whine at all, grumpiness notwithstanding.  I’m going to call it a Bad Attituesday and drive on.

 

Further Analysis on a Silly Song

I confess that I like my own writing.  I don’t care to look at my face in the mirror or in pictures, I sure as hell don’t want to hear my voice on a tape recorder (does anybody even use tape recorders any more?), video of me? Yikes!  But to go back and read previous blog posts, I find that kind of fun.  One of my all time favorites of my own blog was called “I’ll Say the Lights Went Out.”  It was about one of the all time dumbest popular songs: “The Night the Lights Went out in Georgia.”  As you see, I put a link back to it, in case anyone is interested in reading it.

That post and the song that inspired it were brought back to my mind a few days ago with an “On This Day” post on Facebook.  I had thought of something that explained the whole song.  You’ll need to know the song for the rest of this post to make sense, by the way.  And the more I think about it, the more I think,  THAT’S IT!!!

The narrator was in love with Andy.  Think about it: it’s the only way things make sense.  She killed the wife first, in hopes Andy would turn to her.  That’s why she hid the body and made it seem that the wife had left town.  It is unlikely that Andy was the kinky sort who would fall for his lover’s murderer, although I guess you never know.  We already figured Andy was not the brightest star, even given Georgia’s dark firmament.

Furthermore, Little Sister no doubt blamed her brother for the whole Andy/Cheating Wife hook-up.  After all, if Brother would have been a better husband, Wife would not have strayed and Andy would have been available.  This, of course,  accounts for her willingness to let Brother take the fall for Andy’s clumsier murder.  IN FACT, and I think of this right now as I type this:  Little Sister probably hurried over to Andy’s and said, “You’ve got to get out of here!  My brother is coming to kill you!”  She figured once she saved his life in this fashion, he would fall into her arms, happy ending, yes.

But, no, Andy spurns her.  He still thinks Cheating Wife left town and will someday return to him.  Little Sister shoots him in a vindictive rage.  In the meantime, Brother is “slipping through the backwoods, quiet as a mouse”  with his heirloom gun with the intention not of killing Andy but of confronting him and demanding the full story, complete with dirty details.  He plans to threaten Andy with the gun, perhaps frighten him and make him pee his pants, then demand to know where Cheating Wife is, because she probably sent her lover a post card.  That explains why he loses his head and “fires a shot” to summon the police.

Ah, it is so satisfying to spin a tale.  What an enjoyable time I have had writing this post.  If only I could use my powers for good.  Thank you for tuning in.

 

Why Wuss out Now?

Earlier today I was afraid this would be a Wuss-out Wednesday post and, well, here we are.  I don’t have any excuse, although I suppose I could make something up. In fact, perhaps I ought to make something up.  It would exercise my fiction muscles.

Let’s see… inclement weather?  A tornado kept me hiding in my basement, where the dampness irritated my sinuses to the point that composing a post became impossible.  Nah, nobody will buy that.  Local readers know the weather has not been bad and non-local readers can check the National Weather Service or someplace.  What else may be keeping me from posting?  A traumatic experience on the way home from work.  I was accosted by brigands.  Or does that mean pirates?  Desperadoes.  No, that’s the Old West.  Common or garden muggers? No, no, I would just write a blog post about that.

Anyways, this is not a fiction blog.  Other bloggers post stories or portions of stories, or veer off into fantasy.  I enjoy reading them, but I have never followed suit. I write fiction in my non-blogging writing life.  Novels, plays, murder mysteries and the occasional children’s story.  And let’s not forget my resume (just kidding; I don’t have a resume).

The fact is, I have not been doing enough writing of any kind lately.  The only cure for that is to Write More.  I shall get right on that and report back tomorrow what all I have written.  As always I hope you’ll stay tuned.

 

I Want My Pork Chop

The weather in the Mohawk Valley has taken a turn towards perfect.  As I type this into our little Acer, I am sitting on our deck, enjoying a lovely breeze.  The two trees in our backyard give enough shade to keep me cool and to keep the sun from really bothering my eyes.  The sunshine is bright enough to make everything in your yard look pretty, and that’s a pretty good trick, since I have not done much yardwork or gardening this season.

My container garden is still in bloom.  Of course some plants have done better than others, but I am seeing bright purple and yellow blooms as well as a enough basil for at least one more good batch of pesto.

In short, life is good.

If only I could write, life would be perfect.  I spent a good portion of the day thinking about my novel (I reiterate that I have the sort of job where one can think about other things and still be productive).  I tried to frame things into “Because THIS then THIS,” with no notable success.  What terrible news.  Fiction MUST have a progression, cause and effect, one thing leads to another.  Otherwise, why would the reader turn the page?

But one must persevere.  I vowed I would finish this novel.  I must either come up with an outline that fits what I have written thus far, and continue to write, or I must start all over again.  This is a daunting proposition, but one which I am prepared to face.

In the meantime, I am greatly enjoying my time sitting out on the deck while my beloved husband cooks supper.

Full disclosure:  Steven finished cooking when I has halfway through the second sentence of the first paragraph.  I stopped composing to eat then continued on,  leaving the headline I had written first, in order to make this Non-Sequitur Thursday.  I hope this blog post meets with your approval.

 

And I’m Missing the Cheesiest Movie!

Yeah, it’s Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  I was afraid it would be.  You see, I started early and had really the best day.  We went to a winery for an art show with music.  It was awesome.  I hope to write a real blog post about it in the coming days, but I just can’t seem to do it right now.

Still, I must write something.  I like to post every day, whether it’s any good or not.  I guess I go through spurts where it’s not very good for several days in a row.  The problem is, it seems one can either be a writer or have a life.  But what a Catch 22 that is!  If you have  life, you don’t have any time to write. If you don’t have a life, you don’t have anything to write about.

Oh, well, I guess that last sentence is not really true.  Apart from this blog, I write fiction.  You can write fiction without having a life, unless it is thinly disguised autobiographical fiction.  I do not write thinly disguised autobiographical stuff; I make things up.  So I could indeed sit home with no friends and no life and write that sort of fiction.

Perhaps I’ll try that one day. Only not tomorrow, because I am meeting a friend to do some fundraising stuff for Team Uncle Leo for the Sitrin Run/Walk to benefit veteran programs.  And I must get ready for the Boilermaker 15K in two weeks.  Oh, and I’m in a play at Ilion Little Theatre.

Stay tuned, when this blog will begin to offer tips on how one can have a life and find time to write.  As soon as I figure it out.

 

In My Defense, It’s Wuss-out Wednesday

So this guy at work got ticked off, because he said I was stalking him.  In my defense, my doctor told me to get a hobby.  Well, I guess it wasn’t MY doctor, but it was A doctor who wrote the article somebody shared on Facebook. At least, I think it was a doctor.

 

OK, the above paragraph is completely fictitious.  None of the guys at work are the least bit bent out of shape about me stalking them. However, I thought of that for possible use as a humorous Facebook post. That is what I think about  when I’m at work (it is the kind of job where you can let your thoughts wander).  I try to think about my novel or blog or any other writing projects at hand.  When I have no thoughts about any of those, I try to think of humorous Facebook posts.

 

Some of my readers who are also Facebook friends may now be saying, “Huh.  She doesn’t share any of those with us.”  How unkind!  I thought I was mildly amusing on occasion.  Unfortunately, sometimes I think of some really good bons mots then can’t recall them when I sit down at the keyboard.

 

The same goes for my blog posts.   However, full disclosure:  today I did not think of a good blog post.  But I thought for Wuss-out Wednesday, a humorous Facebook post would do.