ISWG: How Do You Find Time to Write in Your Busy Day?

Hope this ISWG post finds everyone well. This month our question was my title: how do you find time to write in your busy day?

Personally, I schedule in my writing since I work a 30 to 36 hour work week.  Scribble time is always in the morning except when I'm off, then I flip it to the evening so I can run some errands  and a get nap in.

Here's what my schedule looks like 5 days a week.

5 AM Get out of bed and take out dogs
5:30 AM Devotion and prayer
6 AM Breakfast
6:30 AM Breakfast for the dogs
7 AM Walk the dogs
7:30 AM Take myself for a walk
8 - 9 AM A house chore- I clean one room a day
10 AM - 12 NOON- I shoot for a 1000 words

From 12:30 to 2 PM, I'm eating lunch and getting ready for work.

Saturday evenings are used to do research for my articles on Freedom Nation News (which I've been slacking on lately) and Sunday evenings are for writing my blogs. And somewhere between all this stuff, I'm reading a book. If I didn't have a schedule, I can't say I would stick to anything.

PROJECT UPDATE: The Lie is halfway done. It's the project I've been working on. That's why I've hardly been around.

Here's the opening line just for fun:

“I’m telling you, she’s not normal,” my mom said, the umpteenth time she’d made that accusation since my divorce from my first husband. “Her vagina looks like a freight train went right through it.”

This post was brought to you by Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Group. It's time to cry, whine, and tell of our insecurities. It's also to  inspire and encourage one another. If you're interested in this group, click on the icon to the top right of your computer screen.

Hugs and chocolate, 

Shelly

26 Days of Crazy Coming Your Way

Hey! Guess what's coming to town in April again? Twenty-six days of  crazy blogging A to Z, skipping weekends. Arlee Bird is the creator.You pick the topic and theme. But I suggest you keep your posts short and turn off your captchas-those are the rudest things anyone ever made.

Go here if you want to sign up for the fun.

As for me, I haven't decided to join in or not. If  I do, my plan is to post one word per the alphabet with a picture. They will be clues to what you will find in my next novel, Killer Stilettos, the second book in Lila's Journey.

I'm still tweaking the dickens out of it.

A couple of Mondays ago I sent the first 300 words over to Mainewords for a critique, which by the way was truly helpful. So I'll be writing my 34th draft of chapter one soon. She's always looking for first chapters to critique and post on her blog. If interested click on the link above.

Also, I'm still playing with making my own covers. Here's one:

But its still not right. Practice makes better though. I'm hoping to prepare a post for next Monday on how to make a basic ebook cover. I'm not a wiz yet. I've already forgotten how to make my own Clip Art, and have to re-figure it out.

Before I go, here's a diddy from Killer Stilettos:

Cynthia’s green eyes flinted to the chair Vinny sat in. “There’s no way in hell that I’m going to pray his soul out of purgatory. Ever.”

Vinny chuckled and plucked petals from the rose. “She loves me. She loves me not.”

Hope you enjoyed. I'll be at the Salon most of this week so I'll be lurking the blog world from my iPhone.

Hugs and chocolate, all!

Shelly

2014 Plans

Before I tell you my plans, I wanted to wish you all a Happy New New. May God be good to us all and grant us our dreams within reason.

Also, thank you all who follow, visit, and comment. Your words of encouragement mean a lot to me. I'm believing that 2014 will be obstacle free for all of us.

Now for my plans. I've been thinking about the goals I set every year. Sometimes I set them too high to reach. So this year I'm keeping them within reach.

Keeping my house clean: I've been cleaning one to two rooms a day. This has been doable and fits right into my writing and working schedule. Not to mention, I always hated cleaning the whole house in one day. Overwhelming and boring.

Exercise: I'll keep speed and interval walking thirty to forty minutes a day. And I'll keep at the light weight training, too. No more over doing it for me. The lesson learned: too much of good thing can be very, very bad.

Writing: Stick with my morning routine of two to three hours. My brain works better at this time versus night. 

Publishing:  Killer Stilettos is next to be out. It's the next book in the Lila's Journey series. And I have a short story already for publishing except for a cover. Samah Ronit. 

Last but not least, I have another project. A novella series to be published sometime this year. White Trash and Pill Heads.

What are your plans for this new year?

Hugs and chocolate!

Shelly

The House on Mendocino Street-Post 3

Hey, everyone! This is the third scene of the story that I’m posting as I write. I’m doing my best to keep it at or under 300 words. It’s based on a true story. Mine. The names of people have been changed to protect the innocent. Also, this has not been edited so it’s not going to be perfect. I plan on expanding and polishing this later on for publication.

If you want to follow the sequence of this story click below:

PART ONE

PART TWO

Have a chocolate-filled day while I’m at work loppity-lopping today.

Hugs and chocolate,

Shelly

THE HOUSE ON MENDOCINO STREET

Finally, Bob and the realtor pulled into the drive next to Maddie’s mini van. They both came in the real estate agent’s Mercedes. That meant Bob’s pick-up probably broke down again.

Both men nodded a ‘hello’ to Maddie and got out of the car. They walked in front of the mini van.

Bob stopped and gazed through Maddie’s windshield, gesturing for her to hurry. The realtor rounded the north corner of the house toward the front door.

God, there he goes again acting like a traffic cop. Annoying as hell. Maddie got out of her mini van. “I’m coming.”

Bob shoved his hands into his blue jean pockets, looking around her. “Where’s the midget?” A smirk popped on his face.

“In the backyard.”

“Doing what?’

“Exploring.” Maddie waltzed passed him. She stuck her nose in the air. “Remember when you were six?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t aloud to explore.” Bob came up behind her quickly and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Exactly.” That’s your problem, Maddie thought, as she allowed him to nuzzle her neck. “How do you expect a child to grow up normal?”

“Are you saying I’m not normal?”

“We’ll discuss this later. I’m sure the realtor would like to get the show on the road.” Maddie peeled his hands from her waist and walked toward the open front door to the house.

The real estate angent stood in the middle of the large empty living room, peering out the wide front window.

As soon as Maddie’s shoes hit the threshold, a tingling sensation rushed through her, keeping her from going further in. A dark shadow washed over the yellowing walls. The realtor didn’t seem to notice.

Bob caught up to her, pressed his index finger into her back, and pushed her forward. “What are you doing?” His voice sounded agitated.

“Nothing.” Maddie moved into the house to get his finger off her back. She hated his tendency to prod her along in the public eye. It was degrading.

“What do you all think?” The realtor asked.

Bob clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. “Looks---“

What sounded like a back door slapping a wall came from the back of the house.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Niki yelled. She skipped into the living room. “The man in the back yard says I can call him Grandpa Ed.”

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Another Entry: The House on Mendocino Street-Entry 2

 

For Halloween, I thought I ‘d write a short story based on a true story. Mine. Everyday, I will post as short an entry as possible. Hopefully, not over 300 words. Talk about discipline. NOTE: This is off the cuff so there will be mistakes. This is for fun. However, I will end up polishing it for publication eventually.

Hugs and chocolate to everyone,

Shelly

THE HOUSE ON MENDOCINO STREET

Niki made a straight dash toward an opening between a broken chain link fence. Moldy leaves covered the ground of the backyard. The pungent smell clung to the insides of her nostrils.

She stopped in the middle, lifting her head. A giant tree towered over the house. It canopied the entire back of it, including half the roof. A rope dangled from it, beckoning her to swing from it.

The hairs on the back of the little girls neck stood on end. A sudden chill rushed through her, and she shivered, looking around the musty smelling yard. She saw no one.

“Come on, Sylvia,” Niki said out loud to no one apparently there. Her mommy said Syivia was only imaginary, but she believed differently. Her friend went everywhere she did.

A gentle breeze whirled a few leaves up and around in the air. Niki didn’t give it a thought even though it had been a still, hot Florida summer.She reached for Sylivia’s small hand and tugged her toward the dangling rope. “I’ll swing you, if you swing me.”

Niki grabbed the rope, pulled herself up onto it, and wrapped her small legs around it. She dangled from it, waiting for her friend to push her. “I thought you were going to push me.”

The wind whipped up again all around her, but like the first time she gave it no thought. The temperature had dropped to an unusual chill.  It made the skin on her arms break out in goose pimples while she waited for her imaginary friend to push her. “Come on, Sylvia.”

A large but firm, gentle hand touched her back, giving her one big push. “Hello, tiny miss,” a soft-spoken man said. “Does your mommy know where you are?”

© 2013 Shelly Arkon

What I’ve Discovered About Myself and Other Things in the Midst of Crazy

I’ve been trying different things to keep my writing life going while I go through all the craziness surrounding my grandbaby. And I’ve learned quite bit.

1. Early, early morning hours are best for me to write. I need the quiet. I’m too pooped to think straight in the evening.

2. Cleaning one room a day keeps the germs and dust bunnies away. I can do this after baby goes to bed for the night. It’s mindless versus writing, of course.

3. I can fit in a walk anytime. Preferably, I do it before baby goes to sleep. But the Sweetman says, “It doesn’t make sense to take baby out in the stroller since you’ve already given him a bath. It makes his feet stinky.” But the night air helps to put baby to sleep. Besides, who is going to smell his feet under blankets? Ghosts?

4. One cannot depend on babysitters. It doesn’t matter how old they are.

5. The saying about true friends … um …what was that saying? Anyway, the real ones stick around and help you out. Other than that, everyone else, including your family, runs and hides.

6. The State is truly insane. I won’t even go into detail. It would take too long to explain. Just know if you’re a natural MORON, you could get a job with this establishment with no problem.

Before I go, here’s a diddy from Killer Stilettos:

“What’s going on out there?” I had to ask even though I already knew the answer to my question.

The guy set the tray onto the small table, removed the silver cover from the tray, and tucked it under his arm. He reached for the silverware rolled in a white cloth napkin. “Someone offed Nurse Holly,” he whispered, and handed me a fork. “Clunked her in the head and then suffocated her with a pillow. But don’t tell anyone I told you that.”

“I won’t.” Wide-eyed, I took it from him and poked at the yellow scrambled eggs piled in the upper half of my plate. Mind you, my appetite at this point was pretty knell. “Any idea who would do such a thing?” A picture of a faceless, curvaceous woman flashed into my mind. Like a strange a silent movie, Oshun flashed into it next, twirling around in her bright yellow dress being greeted by my mom. They both shook hands. My stomach did its strange intuitive tweak and a chill shivered through me.

“Hey!” the food service guy said. “Rumor has it she had a jealous boyfriend.” Spittle flew out of his mouth when he pronounced the ‘f’. Some fell into my breakfast plate and the rest dribbled down the bright read zits scattered on his chin. I couldn’t help but think about all the germs that had now showered my food. The seen and unseen.

I blinked my eyes two times at him trying to keep my cool over his spit and Nurse Holly being found dead. “Oh.” But last night’s episode with Oshun before Julio and I astral projected flipped into my head. She almost succeeded in strangling me before Gram appeared. Thank God, Gram came when she did or I would be a dead psychic-medium along with the nurse.

“You okay? You’re not afraid are you?” the guy asked, giving me a quirky grin, even though concern creased his blemished forehead. Thankfully, he swiped the dangling drool from his chin with his hairy bare arm before it landed in my orange juice. It would’ve been a straight shot. Totally grody.

I shook my head and picked up a piece of toast cut into long triangles. With my cloth napkin, I wiped it off before I nibbled on the crust. Hopefully, cleaning it off cured it from any airborne germs that may have landed on it. There was no way I could wipe my scrambled eggs clean. The soft texture probably already absorbed this dude’s saliva. The thought made my insides cringe, and I put my piece of toast down.

The guy scratched at his greasy hair stuffed in a black net. I couldn’t tell if his hair was black or brown. Grease had a way of making everything look darker than it really was. “Anyway, everyone around here knew she was doing one of the doctors in the broom closet daily.” Now, he was giving me way too much information. I had grown to like Nurse Holly in the small amount of time I had gotten to know her in. It’s not like I needed to know her personal stuff.

Hope you enjoyed this. Now, I’ve got to get ready for a day of loppity-loppings.

Hugs and chocolate,

Shelly

PS November 1st, I’m releasing another short and needs help announcing. Let me know in the comments below if you’re interested.

A to Z Challenge, Day 16: R is for Research

About four years ago, I attended a mini writing conference. And one of the speakers was a used-to-be- lawyer-turned-bodice-ripper-writer-to-suspense-bodice- ripper-thriller-writer who is a NYC best seller. She gave some really bad advice. And no, I’m not mentioning her name. Like I said she used to be a lawyer.

Anyway, one of her tidbits of advice was ‘just bullshit your way through a scene or a description. You don’t need to research for details. Most readers don’t know any better’. Smack me in the forehead, yes, we do need to research. And yes, the reader knows better.

My critter’s found scenes I had wrong. They were gun related. I learned that a gun is not just a gun but that there are different ones. They even shoot and hold differently. And they don’t all require the same kind of ammo.

When I sent my MS to beta readers, one found (Lorelie Bell, author of Vampire Ascending and Vampire’s Trill), that I had lots of things wrong with driving a semi. So she enlightened me. To this day, I’m so grateful for her suggestions and knowledge on the subject.

And since I’m a hairdresser by trade, I always have opportunities to discuss how my clients feel about reading books.

One of my questions I posed was this, ‘How would you feel if an author bullshitted their way through a scene?”

Their answer was always the same. “We’d put the book down and never finish it because it would make us mad. People aren’t stupid.”

So, yeah, researching topics on how to do something or historical facts is vitally important.

Before I leave, I leave you with a diddy. Maybe two:

“It’s not stopping!” The dash looked daunting. There were at least twelve gages and ten switches. “What’s all this stuff for?!”

“I don’t know but you need to find the clutch. It’s somewhere near the brake,” Cynthia said. “I sure hope you remember not to do anything your mother suggests ever again.”

I shifted my foot left and slammed it onto the clutch, grabbing the gear shift. My little hand could barely hang onto the softball-sized shift. “How many gears is on this thing?” I wiggled it front, then to the right, and then left. The engine made a grinding noise.

“Ten forward ones and two reverse.”

DISCLAIMER: No one may use this written content. It belongs to Shelly Arkon.