A Writer's Frustration

 

If you've ever written more than one thousand words for a project, you should appreciate this...

The McShane manuscript for book four moved along nicely. The first two chapters barely saw a difference between the first draft and the third. Then came chapter three. Almost five hundred words in and I knew it wasn't working.

At All.

I tried to edit by moving the text from the back to the front, deleting a paragraph, rewriting a scene, to no avail. I had to admit. The draft sucked. So, I deleted the whole thing and started from scratch.

The end result of chapter three speaks for itself, although I'll tell you anyway. Fantastic. It moved the plot along nicely. The problem, however, is that it moved the plot in the wrong direction from the original outline. *sigh*

So, I started chapter four with a new direction that either had to be brought to heel and conform to the outline, or rethink where these characters are taking me.

Two thousand one hundred and fourteen words into the fourth chapter and I knew it couldn't be saved. The whole chapter was one long conversation between two characters. While funny in places, and intriguing for the plot line in others, it would not work. If this weren't a novella, and I had to find words to fill space, this might have been an award winner.

But it's not.

So, not only did my time frame get busted, so did my plotline. I really like where I ended with three, but I have to go back and rewrite my outline to conform. Chapter four now has five hundred forty-eight words toward that goal.

With uninterrupted time, I still should have a new draft written in the next few days. But who in the world ever gets uninterrupted?

Wish me luck!

McShane Mini-Mystery - "The Mushroom Murderer"

Chapter One
Party of the Season

Jaw clenched, a fake smile frozen on her face, Summer Autumn Malone McShane fought the scream trying to burst out. The older gentleman before her, whom Mother claimed was a distant cousin, droned on about his life, love, philosophies, travels and travails. She’d tried to reply or add to this one-sided conversation, with little success. She’d walked away once, only to have him follow her. The smile she held was beginning to make her cheeks ache.

Her mother’s voice sang out. “Tod! There you are!” She embraced the old man’s shoulder. Mona Malone had the ability to make everyone feel at ease as if you were family. Even if you really were.

“Tod,” her mother said. “You cannot manipulate all of Summer’s time like this. She has a party beginning in less than an hour and a world of things that need her attention.” Mona turned to her daughter. “Summer dear, Mrs. Lorenzo is looking for you. She said something about Chef Walters being annoyed or some such. You should go.”

The rescue brought a genuine smile, replacing the fake, plastered-on one that Sam had held. She reached out and grasped her mother’s hand. “Thank you so much. If you’ll excuse me?”

Cousin Tod bobbed his head, said, “Bye, Sam!”

She didn’t mind ‘Cousin Tod’ calling her Sam. Everyone did. Except her mother.

“Now, Mona,” Sam heard him say as she walked away. “Tell me what you’ve been doing all these years.”

Sam smirked. Mona Malone had run from the family estate on her eighteenth birthday. She and Richard Malone, high school sweethearts, married the moment the law would allow, much to their parents’ chagrin. After Sam was born, they spent her entire childhood traveling on mission trips, so she never knew many of the extended family members. After this encounter, she understood her mother’s motivation.

Mrs. Lorenzo, the head of household, interrupted her thoughts. “Ms. McShane, you must come to the kitchen with me. Chef Walters is furious over the mushrooms.”

“What’s wrong with the mushrooms?”

 ******************************************************************

Book Four has been taken down for edits, etc. Please subscribe to the JL Mo website so you won't miss a notification on publication dates!

The Mushroom Murderer is coming

I'm working on the finer points of the opening chapter for McShane Mini-Mystery, Book 4, The Mushroom Murderer. This has been fun to write. I hope you enjoy the first chapter,  posted here on January 1, 2016.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Another Christmas Day

Today is December 25, 2015. If you are reading these words, congratulations! Another Christmas Day has been granted to you.

Merry Christmas!

No matter your religious belief, this is the time of year to be near those you love. To express gratitude for having them in your life. Too many families have been ripped apart by jealousy, suspicion, anger, and resentment. While those jealous, angry, resentful words spoken cannot be erased, they can be rectified. For, as long as both parties breathe, words can be used to heal, just as they can to hurt.

One day, you will wake up, and the people you love will be gone. Whether the passing was a hard fought blessing, or a sudden punch in the gut, the fact will be they’re no longer there to laugh with you, hold your hand, or hear your words.

So, reach out. Connect. Apologize. Forgive. Don’t be stingy. Share your love.

Remember, Christmas is a celebration of life. Make the most of this opportunity. Laugh, love, dine, sing and dance. Today. Now. For there is no promise for tomorrow.

Make merry this Christmas. And I pray you hold onto that merriment throughout the New Year.

The Mushroom Murder is coming

Keep an eye my blog for the upcoming post of Chapter One, the new McShane Mini-Mystery Series installment The Mushroom Murder. I hope to have  it posted here on January 4, 2016.

I'll be adding a chapter each Monday. Since, as my readers know, there are only five chapters to each book, the draft of this novella should be complete by February, 2016. This will be the fourth book in the series. If you'd like to catch up on the first three, you can find them on my JL Mo Amazon Author Page

I am certain you'll enjoy the return of reluctant billionaire, Sam McShane.

Gator Patrol

Proving criminals are not the brightest humans, a burglar hid in a pond after robbing a home in the area. An 11 footer swam up from his pond-home, and perhaps thinking it was delivery, ate him.

Karma. She's a bitch.

 

 

(meme from Florida Police Officers and Sheriff Deputies)

Nana likes Dungeons and Dragons

The Adventure Begins

Welcome. My name is Menelin. I am a Wood Elf. If you’ll take the time to speak with me, you will know that I possess a caring heart. I’ll commiserate with you and your current plight. You’ll open up to me, and feel a comfortable connection between us.

And that’s what I want you to feel. I will say what you need to hear, be the listening ear you need, and steal your coin purse while doing so. That’s what a Rogue does.

Truly, I don’t care if you trust me or not, or if you like me or not, or even if you care or not. All I care about is me. Well, mostly.

The only person I do quasi-care about is my friend, the human cleric Ailsa. I call Ailsa ‘A’, because human names are so odd. She once saved me when I needed saving, and that isn’t very often. My weapons are quite reliable, thank you very much. But, there are times. So, I’ll stick close to her when I feel like it. A has another fan that sticks closer to her than I do. Elspeth, a half-orc with a pleasant enough outlook on life. But don’t piss her off. I picked her pocket once and the other half of her lineage, the barbarian half, let me know that she’s not as easy-going as she appears. I’ve been made to swear to never do that again. It wasn’t that difficult an oath to take, as I’ve grown fond of my head and didn’t want it caved in.

A hangs out with a gnome wizard by the name of Nyx. Not sure why. The little thing wants to test for magic in everything! If we pass a rock that catches her eye, she wants to stop and test it. So frustrating. But, like most things, there are benefits. On occasion those rocks do hold a magic trap, and I have to admit she was right. Not out loud, of course.

Then there’s Nimue. I try not to stare when she’s around, but she is one sexy beast. A full elf, she’s chosen the path of Ranger. She can shoot a fly off of an orc’s claw, and leave the finger intact. It’s part of the reason I don’t carry the bow. Why should I? When she’s around, I look like a child playing with an oversize toy. Even my hand cross bow, which I’m quite proficient at, seems ludicrous. I only use it when Nimue’s not around. She encourages me to continue my practice with it, but I’ll stick to my daggers. Only then, if my rapier won’t do the trick, I’ll use the cross bow. But that’s rare.

The five of us have gathered for a festival in this small town. They’re to dedicate a church that had been built to replace the last one, which had burned to the ground. That’s why we find ourselves in this little hole in the wall bar, enjoying one other’s company.

Then we heard the screams…

***

 IRL I'm a...

Please go to my new JL Mo blog to continue the story. Thanks!