Books and Cookies—Book Review: DEFY

Have you ever read a book that inspired you to think about your own writing or maybe a current WIP? Did it cause you to analyze your work a little closer? Or maybe it inspired you to write something new?

I recently read a book that did just that. I have a manuscript I decided to shelve for now until I decide what I want to do with it, but after reading DEFY by Sara Larson, I was inspired to get it back out. It has potential, and while I thought it was ready to be out in the world, I now think it still needs more molding and prodding into shape.

Well, enough about my manuscript, I'm really here to talk about a book review. And boy, do I have one for you!

DEFY by Sara Larson is a YA fantasy adventure filled with action, danger, and a sensational romance.

Alexa Hollen and her twin brother, Marcel, are witnesses to the murder of their parents. In order to save herself from a life in the breeding house, Alexa becomes Alex by cutting her hair, binding her breasts, and earning a rightful place in the prince's guard. As an excellent swordsman, Alex is highly admired. No one knows her secret, or so she thinks. But the prince has secrets of his own and a plan to overthrow his father, the king. But his plan can't succeed without Alex's help. Thrown together in a planned abduction, Alex learns that not only does Prince Damian know the secret of her true identity, he also harbors feelings for her, feelings that she's easily able to return once she doesn't have to pretend to be someone she's not anymore.

I absolutely LOVED this book! I'm such a sucker for kick-ass heroines, and Alexa can wield a sword like no other. She's strong and fearless with just the right amount of compassion and sensitivity that makes her a compelling MC. The writing and descriptions drew me right into this story. And the romance? Ahh, the romance was so sincere and so sweet that it made me melt. Yeah, I'm a sucker for a breathtaking romance too.

And I can't say enough about Prince Damian without sounding like I have a major crush on him—which I probably do... He starts off acting like a spoiled brat but it's all just an act to confuse his father's guards and advisors. He's really a caring, compassionate man who wants to right the wrongs his father has made in his kingdom.

Anyways, I can't say enough good things about this book. And the great news? This was the first book in the Defy Trilogy. Sara's second book, IGNITE, is already out. And the final book, ENDURE, will be released in January. Huzzah!

And now for some cookies...

You can find the recipe for these yummy Molasses Cookies HERE.

Happy Reading!

Books and Cookies—Book Review: Anna and the French Kiss

Over the past couple of months as I've researched different agents for my YA contemporary novel, I typically tune in to their favorite books list to determine if my manuscript might interest them. And one book that is a favorite for many agents is the YA novel by Stephanie Perkins, ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS.

Since I'd never read it, I decided I should check it out to see what all the hype was about. So I did.

Is it worthy of all the praise and references? My answer is a resounding, Yes!

ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS is about Anna, a seventeen-year-old girl who is shipped off to a boarding school in Paris for her senior year of high school. In this beautiful, brilliant city, she meets an eclectic group of friends who immediately pull her into their group and show her the ropes. And, of course, this group includes the beautifully hot British/American Etienne St. Clair. After all, who can resist an accent? Problem is, Etienne has a serious girlfriend who has a serious hold on him. And Anna likes Etienne's friendship a little too much to ever consider rocking the boat. But sometimes, you just can't help who you fall for...

Anna was a comical, fun MC with such a wonderful voice. I could have read her voice for days and weeks. And Etienne is deep and relatable, making him totally swoon-worthy. Add that to the other cast of characters with their unique voices and quirky ways, and you have yourself an all-star cast of characters in this sweet YA contemporary romance.

All the references to Paris and descriptions of the setting put the reader right there. Since I've never been to Paris (yes, it's on my bucket list), I loved that I was able to experience the culture, a little bit of the language, and the romantic Parisian setting right from my own living room. It's a story about falling in love, forgiveness, finding oneself, and being true to who you are.

I give this book 5 stars and would highly recommend it to anyone who likes YA contemporary romances.

Happy Reading!

And now for some cookies to munch on while you read...

You can find the recipe for these yummy Peanut Butter Cup Cookies HERE.

Pitch Wars Contest Info

How many of you have heard of Pitch Wars?

It’s an online contest hosted by the amazingly awesome Brenda Drake. And guess what? It’s happening right now!

That’s right, the Mentor Blog Hop went up on Monday and now those of you with completed, polished manuscripts are invited to explore the various blogs of the mentors to see who might be a good fit for you. These mentors are published/agented authors, editors, or industry interns who are giving their time and knowledge to help make your MS shine.

So, you’re probably wondering what this Pitch Wars thing is all about. Here are the deets:

—Check out the Mentor’s Blog Hop. Each mentor is only responsible for one age category. So, if you write YA, make sure you find mentors that are accepting YA submissions. You can find the blog hop HERE. 

—Choose 5 mentors you want to submit to. An easy submission form will go live at midnight (EDT – New York time) August 17 and remain open for 24 hours. Here is what you will need to enter the form: Your top five mentors, your email address, title of the manuscript, category and genre, your query letter, and the first chapter of your completed manuscript (Word .doc or .docx format). For more information, follow the instructions on Brenda Drake’s website on what and how to submit.

—Wait to see if one of the mentors you chose want to work with you. The mentors' picks will be announced on September 2nd. And keep in mind that they can only pick ONE mentee, so competition will be fierce! Don't let that be a discouragement though.

—If you are chosen, then for the next two months, your mentor will go through your MS and offer feedback and advice. They will help make your MS better and give you the confidence you need to continue (or begin) your querying journey. 

—November 3rd and 4th is the agent round, and over a dozen agents will participate and make requests. The great thing is that there are many, many success stories associated with Pitch Wars. 

So, if you're interested, the Pitch Wars submission window opens August 17th. Be ready to submit your query and first chapter of your completed manuscript. 

Good luck!

Kisses from Yesterday - Final Part

Today I am finishing my critique of the first chapter of Angi Kelly's Adult Urban Fantasy, KISSES FROM YESTERDAY. When we last saw Alexis, she was talking to a strange man in her newly acquired house... 


Alexis’s heart pounded.  She felt its beat in her temple, heard its throbbing in her ears.  She jumped up and stumbled back, preparing to run if he came toward her.  His eyes met hers, and sorrow filled his face as he looked at her.

“I am sorry to have frightened you.  Please, sit back down.”

She stared at him, debating whether or not she was willing to take the risk, connection or no.  He sat down and looked at her, hands upraised, palms toward her.  His eyes were sorrowful, pleading with her.

“Please,” he said again.

Alexis sank back into the chair, her eyes never leaving his face.  Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair.

“Jonathan Crestwood did not commit suicide.  He went into Rebecca’s room that night and locked the door behind him, as he had almost every night since she died.  His tears soaked her pillow as he fell asleep.  He awoke later, not knowing what had wakened him.  He got up and went to the basin to splash water on his face, and then realized someone else was in the room with him.  He knew who she was the moment she spoke.  She came to him, trying to…comfort him, but the type of comfort she offered, he was not willing to take.”

“She wanted to seduce him?”

His eyes were dark as he answered.  “Yes, for lack of a better term.  When he refused her, she grew angry.  She told him he would always be hers, and if she couldn’t have him, no one could.  A man grabbed him and put a cloth over his face, and then he lost consciousness.”

He paused, his eyes unfocused, faraway.  Alexis waited, but when it seemed as though he wasn’t going to say anything else, she leaned forward.  “What happened after he lost consciousness?”

The question seemed to bring him back from whatever memory he was seeing in his mind.  He blinked and looked at her.

“When he awoke, he was tied to the bed and the woman was partially disrobed, straddling him.  She told him he could choose to take her, and then marry her, or he could choose to die.  He told her he would never take a woman such as her for his wife.  She slapped him, and told him she had been the one to arrange for Rebecca’s brutal death.”

He looked at the portrait of Rebecca, and then he sighed, a sound of weariness that seemed to come from deep within his soul.  Anger blazed in his eyes.

“Then, she told him he still had to choose…her or death.  He chose death.  They cut his wrists and watched as his lifeblood drained away, and when he died, they untied him and slipped out through the window.”

“How could you possibly know these things?  I mean, if you know, then why didn’t the authorities know?  They never caught who attacked Rebecca.”

He slammed his fist into his thigh.  “They never even looked twice at the woman who killed Jonathan.  Oh, people around here all suspected it, but no one ever questioned her closely about Rebecca’s death.  The woman eventually married a man who was new to the area and knew nothing about the events.  He later found out about the whole nasty affair, but by then it was too late.  He had already married what he originally believed to be a virtuous woman.”

“Who was this young woman?”

“Henrietta Jones.”

Alexis stared at him.  “Henrietta Jones?  Who was she?”

He nodded, his eyes burning with rage.  “An insane woman who hated Rebecca and wanted Jonathan for herself.”

“How is it you know so much about what happened that night?  It happened over a century ago, and you obviously weren’t there.”

He smiled sadly.  “But I was there, Alexis.  I lived through every horrifying moment of it.  I am Jonathan Crestwood.”

Alexis’s heart seemed to freeze in her chest, and then thudded painfully.  She stood, her fingers white from her grip on the chair.  Her lungs felt heavy, burning as she tried to breathe and couldn’t.  Black dots crowded her vision and dimmed the room around her.  She uttered no sound as she slid to the floor.

***

My thoughts: My first thought is that again I'm going to pick on the dialogue here. All the information that needs to be conveyed is here, but I think it could be conveyed more...gracefully. For example I might revise this paragraph so:

Alexis sank back into the chair, her eyes never leaving his face. He gave a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“Jonathan Crestwood did not commit suicide. He went into Rebecca’s room that night as he had every night since she'd died and fell asleep on her bed, his tears soaking her pillow. When he woke later, he realized he was not alone, that someone else was there. At first his heart soared, thinking that by some miracle Rebecca had come back to him and the horror of her death had been a terrible dream. But as soon as he heard the voice his hope vanished, crushed by [insert some description of her here, perhaps, crushed by the darkness of her eyes, the cold calculating smile, something]. He knew who she was and why she'd come. She'd come to offer comfort, but not the sort he was willing to take."

Of course, this is just my opinion and we all know how subjective opinions are, but I do think this dialogue could be improved to read smoother. I might also suggest reading it out loud to hear how it flows. This always helps me catch places where the sentences stumble a little.

My final thought is that I think this is an intriguing start to what looks like a wicked cool ghost story. A big thank you to Angi for submitting this first chapter and readers, do chime in with any thoughts you might have.

Kisses from Yesterday - continued...

Today I am continuing to critique the first chapter of Angi Kelly's Adult Urban Fantasy, KISSES FROM YESTERDAY. When we last saw Alexis, she was hearing music...

She grabbed the silver candelabra from the table at the head of the stairs, and tested its weight.

Yep, it’s heavy.  Hit somebody with this, and they won’t get up for a while.

She hurried toward the room, stopping just outside the door.  The melody was beautiful, sorrowful and haunting.  Her heart ached and tears welled up in her eyes as she listened.  The melody made her think of loss, something lost through tragedy.  It brought back memories of her parents, their deaths.  She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against her tears as she listened for a few more minutes, her hand resting on the doorknob.  Then, she opened her eyes and eased the door open.  Her breath caught in her throat as moonlight streamed in through the skylight, illuminating a man sitting at the piano.

When she saw his face, a sudden calm filled her.  For some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him.  Curiosity raged through her, but no fear.  Some kind of link existed between the two of them, pulling her toward him, and she stepped farther into the room.  The man didn’t seem to notice her as he continued playing his melody.  The moonlight coated his light brown hair with silver.  He was dressed in a dark suit, but in place of a tie, he wore a blue cravat.  She frowned and bit her lip.  He looked vaguely familiar.  He suddenly stopped playing and looked at her.

“Alexis Conrad.  So, we finally meet.  How do you do?”  He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head slightly as he studied her.

She raised her eyebrows at him.  How do you do?  A man I feel I know breaks into my house, and one of the first things he says to me is, “How do you do?”  What is wrong with this guy?  Anger flared, warming her skin.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

“You know who I am, if you’ll think about it.  As for what I’m doing here, I came to you for help.”  Raising his eyebrow, he inclined his head toward her hand.  “I assure you, you have no need of that.”

She glanced at her hand and saw she was still clutching the candelabra.  She set it on the floor and took a deep breath.  She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.  “My help?  What do you mean?”

“That’s a long story.  Won’t you sit down?  I’ll tell you a little more about this house.”

She hesitated.  She had to be insane to consider sitting down and having a chat with this guy.  She should run to her suite, lock herself in, and call the cops.  But somehow she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

The ghost of a smile touched his lips, but shadows haunted his eyes.  “Please, Miss Conrad.  I’ve no intention of doing you any harm.  I only wish to talk with you.”

Something in his voice, something lost and lonely, called out to her.  Before she knew what she was doing, she pulled one of the chairs closer to him.  As she sat down, he smiled gratefully.

“Thank you.  I haven’t had companionship in quite some time.”

Alexis smiled and fiddled with the sleeve of her robe, twisting the fabric around her finger.  “I can’t imagine why.”

His face darkened.  “Oh, there are many reasons, which I will reveal to you shortly.  Now, Miss Conrad—”

“Please.  Call me Alexis,” she said, hoping her invitation would prompt him to introduce himself.

“Very well.  Alexis.  Forgive me, but I must wait until I’ve told you a little more about this house before I reveal my name to you.  Do you know who that young woman is?”  He gestured to the painting.

Her heart lurched painfully, as it did every time she looked at the similar face, and she shook her head.  “No.  I think she is one of my ancestors.”

“Yes, she is, although not a direct ancestor.  You look very much like her.  That young woman is Rebecca Eugenia Carrington.  She was a beautiful and astonishing young woman.  Her portrait hangs there because she was quite accomplished at the piano and this room was hers, where she played for friends and family alike.”

His gaze turned inward, thoughtful.  After a moment, it returned to her.

“You’ve already heard much of the story about the tragedy that befell poor Rebecca, have you not?”

“Yes.”  Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.  “It was quite tragic.  I was also told her fiancé was so overcome with grief he committed suicide in her room.”

“That’s not true!”  He sprang to his feet, startling her.  His eyes were wide.  The muscle in his cheek twitched, as if he were clenching and unclenching his jaw.

***

My thoughts: My first thought is that the dialogue between Alexia and piano man could be improved. One thing I find when I re-read my dialogue is that I often have extra words or phrases that don't quite jibe with the rest. For example, in this bit, piano man says he needs her help:
“My help?  What do you mean?”

“That’s a long story.  Won’t you sit down?  I’ll tell you a little more about this house.”
To me, that's not what should follow here. What should follow is him telling her how/why he needs her help. I assume that the reason has to do with the history surrounding Rebecca and shortly that turns out to be so. I'd consider cutting this sentence. My second thought is, Yay! A ghost! At least, I'm pretty sure he's a ghost. He didn't offer her his hand and I think that's why. Must read on to confirm...

Readers, any thoughts or comments for Angi?

Kisses from Yesterday - continued...

Today I am continuing to critique the first chapter of Angi Kelly's Adult Urban Fantasy, KISSES FROM YESTERDAY. When we last saw Alexis, she'd discovered a portrait of a woman who likes like her...

Alexis stumbled back, and almost tripped over her own feet.  Then, she frowned as she studied the portrait more closely.

Not me, after all.  I’ve been watching too many horror movies.  She rolled her eyes.

The young woman’s face was a little fuller, but other than that, they could have been twins.  Dizziness swept through her and Alexis closed her eyes to steady herself.  After a moment, the dizziness passed, and she looked at the painting again.  She thought it was only natural there was some resemblance between the two of them.  They were related.

“Who were you?” She said aloud, as if expecting an answer.  Curiosity filled her, and she wondered what the young woman had been like.

She opened the door on the other side of the room, and another corridor stretched before her.  The south wing.  Closing the door, she left the room, pausing to glance back at the painting.  Through the skylight, she saw darkness was falling, so she decided to save the rest of her explorations for later.  She went back to her car and slid behind the wheel, tapping her fingernails as she gazed toward the cemetery she had seen when she arrived at the estate.  She wondered which of her ancestors were buried there.  She would definitely explore the cemetery and research the names she found there to discover where they fit in her family tree.  Or rather, where she fit in theirs.  She was tired of not belonging anywhere, but maybe this house would give her the stability and belonging she so desperately wanted.  Maybe she could belong here.  With another sigh, she started her car.

Time to meet the caretaker.

* * * *

The past two weeks had been busy.  She had moved and started settling into her new home, and had found surrogate parents in Albert and Amanda Jenkins.  They welcomed her with open arms and seemed to have adopted her as one of their own.  Their dinner that evening had been wonderful.

Alexis returned home full of Amanda’s excellent cooking, tired and overflowing with happiness.  She had quickly bonded with the Jenkins’ children and their grandchildren.  She hadn’t enjoyed herself like that since before her parents passed away.  She had made lifelong friends in the Jenkins family, and a warm, contented glow filled her.

A tingling sensation drifted across the back of her neck as she walked into her sitting room.  Goosebumps spread across her arms.  She looked around.  Was that something in the corner?  No, just a shadow.  She shook her head as she walked into the bathroom.

“New house jitters.”  She frowned, trying to convince herself that was what it was.  It had been happening a lot lately, this feeling of being watched.  It was something to be expected when someone moved into an old house, but it was really creepy.  Especially when she thought about the story Albert had told her about the deaths of Rebecca Carrington and Jonathan Crestwood, which had taken place in Rosedawn.  Rebecca had been brutally attacked a few days before her wedding to Jonathan was to have taken place and had died two days after the date of what would have been the happy event.  Sometime after her death, Jonathan had committed suicide on Rebecca’s bed, which was still covered with the bloody sheets she had died on.  After Jonathan’s death, the family hadn’t even changed the sheets on the bed before locking the room up.

“Maybe it’s the ghost of Rebecca.  Maybe she doesn’t like me being in her house.”  She grabbed a towel and set it on the marble counter.  Then, she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the tub.  She stood under the spray, relishing the way the water relaxed her tired muscles and soothed away the stresses of the day.

As she soaped her body, she decided she would go to the kitchen for something to drink, and then she’d curl up in bed with a good book until sleep overtook her.  She rinsed off the suds, and turned off the water.  She dried off, slipped into her robe and headed for the kitchen.

The faint notes of a piano greeted her when she reached the stairs.  Her heart skipped a beat as she turned and looked down the corridor.

The music room!

***

My thoughts:  My first thought is that even though darkness was falling I would've wanted to explore the whole house - assuming there was electricity of course! My second thought is that I'm not wild about the transition between her checking the house out and two weeks later. I'm fine with time passing but I think there's a better way to do it. I was also bothered by her sudden bonding with the Jenkins family. Maybe it's because we don't actually meet them or maybe I got the sense it happened too fast. The transition between that and her getting the tingling sensation is also a little jarring but I like that we're getting back to the house and all that's in it. What makes her think that Rebecca might not like her in the house? Can't wait to see who's playing piano...

Readers, any thoughts or comments for Angi?

Kisses from Yesterday - continued...

Today I am continuing to critique the first chapter of Angi Kelly's Adult Urban Fantasy, KISSES FROM YESTERDAY. I have included the last paragraph from yesterday for the sake of continuity.  

She left the kitchen and decided to explore the main upstairs first, and save the two wings for another time.  She paused on the staircase as a tickling sensation crept across the back of her neck.  Her heart constricted and she took a deep breath.  She turned around and looked back down into the foyer, expecting to see someone watching her, but there was no one.  She looked back up to the top of the stairs, where old family portraits hung on the wall, and she laughed nervously.

“Well, that’s who’s watching you, silly.  Everyone knows creepy old portraits always seem to watch you.”

She studied the faces of her ancestors, who looked back at her from their portraits as though judging her.  Shivering slightly at those disapproving stares, she continued down the corridor and entered the first room she came to.

The room was another office.  On her right was a large hearth with a painting of an older man hanging above the mantle.  He held himself with the self-assurance of one who knew who and what he was, who had no doubt about his place in life.  A small brass nameplate at the base of the portrait identified him as Thomas Carrington.  She recognized the name as one Mark had mentioned as her ancestor and the last of the family to actually live in the house.  She sighed, wishing his confidence had carried down through the generations to her.  She was still trying to find her place in life.

“Well met, Thomas Carrington.”

Two large wing-back chairs sat in front of the fireplace, with a small, ornately-carved table between them.  A brandy snifter sat on the table, evaporation marks indicating the glass had contained liquid when the family departed.

She pulled out one of the unmarked books in the bookcase, carefully turning the brittle pages.  A ledger.  As she put it back, a thick, leather-bound book caught her attention, and she pulled it out.  It was a journal, written in the bold strokes of a man’s script.

This might be interesting to read.  Maybe it can shed some light on why I never knew about our connection to this place.

She set it on the desk, and then sat in the chair.  Opening the top drawer, she saw the general clutter she expected to find in a desk drawer.  As she started to close the drawer, a red ribbon caught her attention.  Frowning, she pulled it out and discovered the ribbon was looped through a small brass key.

“Well, now.  I wonder what you unlock.”

In another drawer, she found an old scrapbook-type photo album, which she also set on the desk.  A quick inspection of the other three drawers revealed nothing of importance.  She tucked the key into her pocket, and grabbed the album and journal as she left the room.  The next four rooms turned out to be a cloakroom, and guest bedrooms.

The door at the end of the corridor opened into a parlor.  A domed skylight let in the waning light from outside.  A piano sat in front of the windows, close to the hearth.  A sideboard with linen napkins, china dishes and silver utensils arranged neatly sat against the wall to her left.  She frowned.

Were the Carringtons preparing to entertain when they left so quickly?  And why did they leave?  She wondered if she would be able to find out what had happened to make the family abandon their home so quickly and leave almost everything behind.

A portrait hung over the mantle, a young woman seated at the piano in this very room.  She was beautiful, with red hair swept up on top of her head, ringlets framing the edges of her face.  Her expression hinted at an aristocratic haughtiness, and yet there was also much love and kindness in her expression.  Innocence radiated from her.  The gown the young woman was wearing was a rich hue of green, with a beautiful garnet brooch placed between her breasts.  Something about the painting tugged at the edges of Alexis’s mind, teasing her, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it.  Her eyes were drawn back to the face of the young woman.  It was somehow familiar to her.  Once again, she regarded the green eyes, the heart-shaped face, and then she gasped.  The young woman in the portrait was her!

***

My thoughts:  "She studied the faces of her ancestors, who looked back at her from their portraits as though judging her.  Shivering slightly at those disapproving stares, she continued down the corridor and entered the first room she came to." Why does she think they're judging her? Is it because of their expressions or because of how she feels? Either way, maybe the description of their disapproving faces should come before her thought that they're judging her. 

I like how the impression of Carrington as knowing his place contrasts with Alexis' feeling of still trying to find hers, and the way she addresses him. I am also curious as to how the house has come to her. Have her parents died recently? Someone else in the family? I'll be interested to find out.

Finally: "The young woman in the portrait was her!" If I saw a portrait that looked exactly like me I think I'd recognize it immediately, unless there were obvious differences like eye color or hair color, then it might take me longer. Also, is the portrait her, or does it merely look like her? An important distinction though not one that needs to be revealed yet...

Readers, what did you think of this second bit of chapter one? Any thoughts or suggestions for Angi? I'll be back tomorrow with another installment :)

Kisses from Yesterday - continued...

Yesterday I critiqued the Prologue of Angi Kelly's Adult Urban Fantasy, KISSES FROM YESTERDAY. Today I'm critiquing the beginning of Chapter One...

Chapter 1

Nashville, Georgia

Present Day

How do you live somewhere most of your life and not know the local haunted house belongs to your family?  Alexis wished she could ask her parents that question.

She opened the door and felt around for the light switch, hoping Mark Walker hadn’t been misinformed when he said Rosedawn had electricity.  She found the switch and gasped when the interior of the house sprang into view.  A chandelier hung overhead, revealing a wide foyer.  In a parlor to her right, a huge oil painting hung over the mantle, a portrait of a young woman standing in front of the very fireplace over which it hung.

In front of Alexis and to the right was a staircase with steps that curved up to the landing.  The ceiling was vaulted, and a balcony encompassed the second floor, leaving the center open.  She crossed the room to a doorway near the staircase, and went inside.  It was an office with an old roll-top desk against one wall, and a bookcase filled with books lined another.  She ran her hand over the wood of the desk, admiring the intricate details carved into it, and then she slid the top up.  Papers were scattered on its surface as though someone had just left the room.  She picked up a piece of paper that was crackly, brittle.  She lightly traced her finger over the writing, marveling at the old style.  It was a letter.  Her eyes were drawn to the inkblot near the middle of the page.  The writer never finished it.

“I thought the house would be empty, but this looks as though someone just stepped outside.” [Are these Alexis’ thoughts or did she just say this out loud? Just asking.]

She placed the paper back on the desk and left the room.  As she explored the downstairs area, she found a breezeway and followed it to an enormous kitchen.  Her mouth gaping open, she turned around in circles, trying to take it all in at once.  It was a harmonious blend of history and the modern day.  Set into the wall to her left was a huge stone fireplace, still containing the cauldron one might expect to see in a castle in medieval Europe.  The old semi-circular ovens used by the original inhabitants of the house were also still there, but their modern counterparts were set into the opposite wall.  A large island counter with two ranges dominated the center of the room, with copper pots and pans hanging over it.

“This is huge.  You could prepare a meal for an army in here.” [For some reason her speaking her thoughts out loud is jarring to me] 

A century and a half and the house looked as if the previous owners would return any minute.  The house was a moment frozen in time.  What would that moment tell her about its inhabitants?

“It seems so odd to realize no one has lived here for such a long time.  The way it looks, you’d think someone had just stepped outside.  I could move in right away.  Mark told me the caretaker and his wife have kept the house up inside and out, but he didn’t tell me about all the stuff left behind.”

She left the kitchen and decided to explore the main upstairs first, and save the two wings for another time.  She paused on the staircase as a tickling sensation crept across the back of her neck.  Her heart constricted and she took a deep breath.  She turned around and looked back down into the foyer, expecting to see someone watching her, but there was no one.  She looked back up to the top of the stairs, where old family portraits hung on the wall, and she laughed nervously.

***

My thoughts: How do you live somewhere most of your life and not know the local haunted house belongs to your family? What a perfect way to connect the past with the present and make the prologue relevant. Nicely done. Bonus? There's a haunted house and I love a haunted house story! The description of the house was also excellent and I got a vivid picture in my mind of that entry. The only thing that bothered me was Alexis talking out loud to herself. I may be alone in this and if so, readers, do speak up! But I think I would try to incorporate Alexis words into her observations, have her think that the kitchen is large enough to feed an army and how odd it was that no one had lived in the house for so long, and that she could move in right away if she wanted...You get the idea. But, again, that's just me and maybe Alexis is the sort of person who talks out loud to herself. Regardless, I can't wait to see what else Alexis is going to find :)

Readers, I hope you'll chime in on this first part of Chapter One, KISSES FROM YESTERDAY. Tomorrow, I'll be back with more.

First Chapter Critique - Kisses From Yesterday

This week I have a first chapter crit for you all, which I will post over the course of this week. A big thank you to Angi Kelly who submitted the prologue and first chapter of her Adult Urban Fantasy, KISSES FROM YESTERDAY.

Prologue

Nashville, Georgia

1861

Mists swirled up from the ground as early morning fog blanketed the area, hiding most of the house from view.  Dew fell on leaves—eerie, heavy plops in the silence of predawn.  Smoke curled from the chimneys as the smell of cooking permeated the land and the house itself seemed to stretch as the first streaks of dawn brightened the sky.  Saria’s heart was heavy as she trudged through the dew-laden grass, the water in her bucket sloshing against its sides.  A sense of foreboding rippled through her, prickling the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck.  She paused, looking up at the house, studying it to try to locate the cause of her unease, but nothing stood out.  Still, something was wrong.  She felt it, a heaviness that weighed on her skin.

The death of Rebecca had placed an oppressive air over the plantation that was still felt by everyone, but this…this was different.  Saria raised her eyes to the roof and gasped.  A black aura hovered over the house like a low storm cloud, covering the upper floors.  She closed her eyes against the sight as a shiver coursed through her.  Others might sense it in an abstract way, but Saria knew she was one of only a few who would actually see it.  She opened her eyes, looked back up at the aura and muttered a prayer as she hurried into the house.

She gave her bucket to Callie and frowned.  “Have you seen Mama Elsey?”

Callie nodded, glanced over her shoulder and turned back to Saria, her voice little more than a whisper.  “Prowlin’ the house.  Prayin’.  She got her powder with her.”

Saria widened her eyes and her heart thumped against her ribs.  For Mama Elsey to have her powder with her could only mean she knew about the aura.  It also meant she knew something was terribly wrong and was trying to protect those within the house.  She turned away from Callie and headed for the stairs.

Screams shattered the stillness, echoing through the house.  Saria’s heart froze in mid-beat.  A second scream set her heart into a frenzied gallop and she ran up the stairs.

Miss Rebecca’s room!

Ice formed in the pit of her stomach and spread outward, freezing her blood and making her feel as if she was running through molasses.  She almost tripped over her skirts when she saw the crowd gathered outside Miss Rebecca’s room, but she caught herself on the wall.  She pushed herself away and walked slowly toward the others.  Mama Elsey stepped toward her, her hands outstretched.

“No, chile.  You doan needs ta see this.”

Saria pushed her hands away and brushed past her.  “No, Mama.  I do need to see.  You know I’ll never believe it if I don’t.”

She pushed past the others crowded into the doorway.  Just as the blood pooled on the bedroom floor and soaked into the bed, Saria felt the blood drain from her face and pool in her feet.  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she closed her eyes against the grisly sight.  An anguished cry tore from her as she crumpled to the floor.  She felt separated from her body as she knelt, barely feeling the strong hands that gripped her shoulders.  She swallowed against the bile in her throat and tried to take a deep breath, but the air in her lungs had rushed out, and she couldn’t draw in enough breath to fill them again.

She opened her eyes and caught the dark gaze of Mama Elsey.  The black pupils seemed to widen and swirl, drawing her in as she struggled to breathe.  They were like black whirlpools, sucking at her mind, drowning her.  They seemed to widen even more, swallowing her as the darkness claimed her.

***

My thoughts: First I'll address the issue of the prologue, which as we all know many people do not care for, including agents and editors. I am not any of those people. I was raised on prologues so I'm okay with them as long as they're necessary. I have a great prologue for one of my novels but no matter how many times I try to reinsert it the story reads better starting from chapter one. So. A prologue must be necessary and make the story richer for being there.

That said I like this prologue. I did a little editing in that first paragraph because at first the house was mostly hidden and then it stretched, which seemed at odds. I might revise to show the fog lifting enough to see the house or maybe have the fog envelope the house but that's just my opinion. The question here is whether the house is important. If it is, I might have it enveloped or framed by the fog, if not, I'd shorten up the whole description but keep the fog and mist and dew falling on leaves. The atmosphere is perfect.

Other things I loved about this prologue: It's historical and I love history. It will be interesting to see how this history plays a part in the story. Mama Elsey and her powders. What kind of powders? I want to know, and who is Mama Elsey? The end. OMG! Who died in Rebecca's room?

 I definitely want to know what's going to happen next.

What about you, dear readers? Any thoughts on this prologue or prologues in general? Any helpful suggestions/comments for Angi? 

Tomorrow I will back with the first part of Chapter One.

Character Development

Character Development

I’ve seen a lot of stories where the story was good, but the characters were flat.  The protagonist is beautiful or handsome and seems to have no flaws.  The antagonist is inherently evil with no redeeming qualities simply because the author needs a villain.  Okay, sometimes the latter works, but usually only when you’re dealing with an entity of some type.  But humans are different.  We’re a psychologically messy and complex breed of animal.  Even the best of us have dark sides.  Geez, even the angels from the Bible have dark sides (really dark sides).  After all, Lucifer was an angel before he screwed up and was cast out of Heaven.

Characters need layers.  We don’t need to see every layer, but scenes should be written with those layers in mind.  You want to make the characters live and breathe for the readers.  You don’t have to drown us in the details, but let us inside the character’s head from time to time.  After all, ninety-nine percent of the time, we’re in that character’s POV, so we’re supposed to be in their head.  We’re supposed to hear the voices in their head when those voices are talking about the scene.

You know what I’m talking about.  When you’re arguing with someone, you’re not just listening to what they’re saying and not reacting at all.  You’re listening, and you might be thinking what a jerk this person is, or you might be in shock or disbelief this person could actually believe the words coming out of their mouth.  You’re likely to be thinking of what you’re going to say next, but you’re not likely to be staring at that person and listening to what they’re saying with drool running down your chin.  Your mind’s not going to be one big blank as they rant and rave and call you an ignorant idiot for the tenth time in two minutes.

So when we listen for those voices in the character’s head and we hear nothing but crickets chirping, it freezes us out.  Now, if the character’s mind is wandering and they’re wondering if the pants they have on makes their butt look big, no, we don’t need to see that.  Unless it somehow pertains to the scene—and I doubt that whether or not the pants make her butt look big is going to be relevant—it’s not something we need to see.  If, on the other hand, she’s fighting the urge to choke him if he calls her an ignorant idiot one more time, that might be relevant (sort of like in Hancock, when Hancock tells someone to call him a certain ugly name one more time, or when Mary tells Hancock to call her crazy one more time.  If these were written scenes, wouldn’t you just love to know what was going on in their heads at those moments?).


Just let us into the character’s head from time to time, show us what they’re thinking or feeling.  Give us opportunities to figure out what makes them tick.  Some writers think letting the readers inside the character’s head means using internal dialogue, but the same can be accomplished in narration or a combination of both.  Just remember to show us instead of telling us, and make sure you don’t slow the pace of the story.  Don’t drag on for three pages as your MC agonizes over all the reasons why she shouldn’t or can’t do this or that.

Relying on Spell Check and Grammar Check

Relying on Spell Check and Grammar Check

No matter what program you use, it likely has one or both of these functions.  However, while both are good things to have, please don’t rely on them.  Spell check can’t tell you that you should have used their instead of they’re.  It can’t tell you that you’ve transposed words.  I’ve even seen cases where the grammar function suggested an author replace “a unicorn” with “an unicorn”, simply because unicorn starts with a vowel, but “an unicorn” is incorrect.  Not only does “a vs. and” rely on whether the word starts with a vowel or not, it also relies on what sound the first letter makes.  Hence, “an hour” instead of “a hour”, “a unicorn” instead of “an unicorn”.  Make sure you read your manuscript during revisions.

And please, do not use global replace or replace all unless you’re absolutely certain the word you’re replacing isn’t part of another word.  We don’t really think about it until something draws our attention to it, but so many of our smaller words are contained within larger ones.  For example, say you’re writing a short story where your only character is female.  You decide to make her a guy.  You use replace all to change her to him.  Whoops!  Now all of the chickens on his farm no longer have feathers.  They now have feathims.  This can make for interesting reading, but it’s not a good idea.

In one manuscript I received, I sent the author an R&R because she had a really good story with some minor issues.  One thing I noticed was an odd use of the word “willow”.

Willow breath...

Willow brook...

I finally realized the author probably meant to use the word “shallow”, but since this was in an original world, I decided to mention it in my R&R.  It could have easily been a situation where the people in her world used “willow” in this fashion.  When the author responded to the R&R email, she knew exactly what had happened.  She had been using formal language in an earlier version of the manuscript and decided to make the language less formal to keep the dialogue from being stilted.  She did a replace all on the word “shall”, changing it to “will”.  Hence, “willow breath”.  Darn shame, too.  I kinda liked the unique usage of “willow”!

Watch the video.  It's funny!

Grammatical Errors

It doesn’t cross my eyes any if you have a few instances where you used double quotations when you should have used singles and vice versa, or if you have the occasional homophone confusion.  It happens, and they’re an easy enough fix.  However, if your manuscript is so riddled with errors I’m starting to think you believe:

The exclamation mark is the standard way to punctuate a sentence...

A rose is a flour and flower is what you coat chicken with before you fry it...

That single quotations are the standard for dialogue (unless you’re a British-English author.  I know that’s one of the ways you do it across the pond.)...

That it’s perfectly fine to do this!?!? or this!!!!...

That it’s PERFECTLY FINE TO DO THIS...

And that you seem to have never cracked open a dictionary to check for spelling or meaning...

I’m probably going to reject it.  For example, literally.  While the dictionary does list a figurative meaning for the word now, it originally meant something actually happened.  So if your character says, “My head literally exploded”, you’d better get a mop, because you have a mess to clean up.  Ick.  And if their head literally exploded, how are we even discussing the matter with them?  Unless it’s from the POV of a dead character.  And while that’s been done quite well, it’s a very hard POV to pull off.  The word has been incorrectly used so much in daily language that even the dictionary has been infected.

And yes, I’m guilty of this.  I talk like that.  My head has literally exploded.  My heart has literally stopped.  I’ve literally been scared to death.  So how did I make this post?  I’m literally a ghost speaking to you from beyond the grave, that’s how.  *grin*  The word should actually be figuratively.

My head exploded, figuratively speaking.

But, since the dictionary now gives a figurative definition for literally, I suppose we’re stuck with it and will just have to suck it up and move on.  *sigh*  But there are other words authors misuse because they think the words mean something else.  It’s not uncommon, so I have no problem telling the author I don’t think they want to use that word there.  But when the author uses a lot of words incorrectly, that’s when I wonder if they’ve ever checked the definitions.  It’s easy to read a word in the context of one sentence and get the wrong impression, but you don’t want to consistently identify soup as gruel.  They’re similar, but not the same thing.

It’s easy to overlook a few of these instances, because the mind glosses over things and sees what it wants to, like the difference between reign and rein.  But, if you have a lot of these mistakes throughout the manuscript, you want to clear them up before submitting.  This is even worse if your query and synopsis contain a lot of these errors.

One additional remark about extra punctuation and all caps for emphasis.  Sometimes you do see it in books published by one of the Big Six, and that’s okay.  One, the “rules” of publishing change from time to time.  What was acceptable five years ago might not be acceptable now, and what’s acceptable now might not be acceptable in five years.  Two, it could also come down to the house style guidelines and requirements of the individual publisher.  If you really want to write, “YOOOOUUUUUU!!!!!!”, I’m likely to suggest changing it to “Yoooouuuuuu!” because several houses tell you not to use all caps for emphasis, and not to use multiple punctuation.  You’re better off not doing it.

Your Manuscript Isn’t Ready

This is probably the number one issue I see.  Ninety-nine percent of these manuscripts are rejected.  They’re often riddled with grammatical errors, plot holes, continuity issues, and character development issues.  Some of these are evident in the submission, which is summarily rejected.  Others don’t show these issues until somewhere between chapters two and six, although occasionally you might not see it fall apart until half-way through.  Why am I so specific in saying between chapters two and six?  Because the majority of fulls I rejected for simply falling apart usually did so around those chapters, depending on the length of the book and the chapters.  Like other editors and agents that have commented on this issue, I believe there’s a very simple explanation.  I think it comes from workshopping the query, synopsis, and first few chapters until they shine, and then the author submitting the manuscript without applying what they learned to the rest of the novel.  This was always a disappointment.

However, I will admit this.  I had one manuscript that had a lot of issues.  In spite of the issues, the story itself was wonderful and compelling, and I wanted it.  I put that manuscript through three R&Rs before contracting it, and of course we still had edits after that.  (And before anyone asks—NO, it was not Carol’s.  *grin*)  Would I do that again?  Maybe, maybe not, but I can tell you it would have to be an amazing story in spite of the flaws.  Not just good or even great, but amazing.  I can also tell you this situation was the exception to the rule.  It’s very rare for an editor to do something like this because detailed R&Rs like the ones I sent out for that manuscript take a lot of time.


So my advice in this area is to make sure you revise your manuscript.  Send it out to betas, and if you workshop the first chapter or the first few chapters, make sure you apply what you’ve learned—or revisions you’ve made—to the rest of the manuscript.  There’s nothing stranger than reading a manuscript and learning that when Carla was a child, her mother died.  Then, Carla goes home somewhere around chapter five or six and sits down to a family dinner…complete with Mom.  And no, it wasn’t Mom’s spirit or a step-mother or anything like that.  Mom wasn’t dead in the original draft.  She died because of workshopping suggestions for some reason or another, and the family dinner scene wasn’t revised to reflect this.  Make sure your manuscript doesn’t fall apart because you revised the first few chapters and neglected the rest of it.

Editors Who Write

When I tell people I’m an editor and they know I also write, somehow they’re under the impression my own writing wouldn’t need editing.  I can tell you that is false.  Even an editor needs an editor.  A person can learn to self-edit quite well.  I’ve seen plenty of evidence supporting this in the manuscripts I’ve received, both as an editor for Musa Publishing and in my freelance capacity.  I’ve had manuscripts that were pretty much grammatically clean except for the odd misspelling or occasional homophone confusion.  Most of the work I had to do on those manuscripts concerned things like character development, suggesting rephrasing for flow or clarity, or perhaps dealing with continuity issues.  I’ve also seen manuscripts that suggest the author either doesn’t have the first clue about self-editing, or they don’t even attempt it.

Editors who are also writers need an editor just as much as any other writer.  Sure, they may be good at self-editing, but like any other writer, they’re also often too close to the story to see certain things.  For example, motivation.  What motivates this character to do or say the things they do, or react a certain way?  In my current manuscript I had an early scene where two characters were interacting with each other.  My beta made a comment along the lines of, “She’s got a chip on her shoulder about something, doesn’t she?”  That was a bit of a shock, because I hadn’t intended for her to come across that way.  When I looked back at her interaction with the other character, I saw what my beta meant.  I knew why my character was responding the way she was, but the readers wouldn’t.  They didn’t know her yet, not like I did, and it’s likely other readers would have perceived her the same way.  I wanted her to come across as feisty (she is a redhead, after all!), but it wasn’t working at that particular moment.  Needless to say, I corrected the issue.

What does this have to do with mistakes I see in submissions?  Everything.  My point is all writers make mistakes, even writers who happen to be editors.  Obviously, not every writer makes the same types of mistakes, and not every writer makes the same number of mistakes.  Tomorrow I’m going to start listing some of the most common mistakes I’ve seen in manuscripts.  And yes, I’ve made these mistakes myself, but I try to get rid of them during revisions.


Please note that while I have used examples from actual manuscripts and submissions, including my own work, the examples are kept as non-specific as possible to avoid embarrassing the author.  (There are no quoted passages!)  My goal is not to embarrass or ridicule anyone.  In the course of writing, we all make mistakes that make us cringe when we’re called out on them.  These mistakes do not in any way reflect on the story as a whole, or on the quality of the entire manuscript.  Writers learn from the mistakes and triumphs of other writers, which is one of the reasons we’re encouraged to read all we can.  The examples I share are merely intended to illustrate a point.

A Few Last Thoughts and a 2-Star Review

Recently, the writing group I'm a part of on Facebook was talking about a specific review on a book. It was an out there, 1-star review that said, "I hate my EX." While quite amusing, it did spark a conversation on what reviews authors like to see. One point that was brought up was important enough that I thought I'd address it here.

Remember the author has no control over the quality of printed books or the shipping times. The only time they have control is if they're shipping out the books themselves. However, in a marketplace such as Amazon, that's rarely the case. Most independent authors choose to use Amazon's CreateSpace to handle the printing and Amazon to handle the shipping. If the book you receive is of inferior quality, then feel free to mention it in the review. However, and this is important, please do not knock stars off the review because of this. Please rate the book based on the story and the author's ability to write.

I'll admit that idea is backwards, because most of the time we write reviews on products specifically aimed at quality and how well it does what it was meant to do. For example, a bathroom scale. We would review how accurate it is, how it looks, how well it stands up to use, etc. Books are a different animal. What they are "meant to do" is sweep us off to another land, another time, another whatever and let us experience the world through another viewpoint. And that is what we want to review. How well did the author do?

With that in mind, here's the one and only 2-star review I've written and posted publicly. The author did a smashing job writing and editing, but in my opinion, missed with the story line itself.

Brandye Dui-Erâth was born under a blood red moon and in the midst of a fire that claimed his parents’ lives while leaving him untouched. Because of these auspicious beginnings, no one trusted him, not even when his grandfather came to claim him in order to raise him and took him to another town. The story of his birth seemed to follow him wherever he went.
 
Brandye grew up on his grandfather’s tales of a Darkness that claimed the rest of the world, leaving Consolation as the only place where Light still prevailed. Coupled with a curiosity about the world around him, fostered by his grandfather, Brandye grew up in a time when Darkness began to creep across the final bastion of light.

Having found only friends in a single family that didn’t look down upon him and the circumstances of his birth, Brandye grew and became a young man in charge of his destiny.

My Opinion:

I have just done what I swore I’d never do; which is post a 2-star review. I normally keep these silent and contact the author directly. However, this is a different case entirely. The story itself is well-written and there are almost no errors in the manuscript itself. That is impressive. And for many, this book may be great. I read all 250+ pages of it just fine.

As a writer, I’m well aware of the need to create an elaborate back story for characters, especially the main character, in order to be able to show a rich and complete character to the reader. Unfortunately, in my opinion, that’s all this book was. It was the intricate back story that tells us what made Brandye what he is. I kept waiting for the story to fully develop and things to happen. While there are great scenes in the book where I thought, “Here we go, there’s the story,” it would fall short and back up a bit. Those great areas could easily have been worked into a different book as flashbacks, or something similar, so we could see what happened to make Brandye the way he was. When this book ended, I thought, “Now we reach what should have been the first book.”

Do not get me wrong. This entire book was well-written. That is the reason why I’m leaving a 2-star review for the first time. There are plenty of people out there that may very well disagree with me and believe this made a terrific first book to what appears will be a great series. I will admit that I’m intrigued and would be willing to read the second book to see what happens next. There are so many ways this could go from the end point that I’m fascinated to see what will happen.