Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
A NEW TRAILER FOR DEVIL'S DANCE
Last night a trailer for my new book, Devil's Dance, was posted on You Tube. The first one in a set of two, this book will be released in all formats in August. The story continues in The Devil's Due, to be released in September. Thanks to all the friends and family who encouraged me during the fifteen years it took for this to become reality.http://bit.ly/devilsdance
Friday, September 4, 2009
WHAT IF I WAS THE CHARACTER?
I went through so many emotions when writing these two books, it made me step back and wonder "what if I really was this character?" This woman who progresses from terrified teen in A DREAM LOST to a talented woman in charge of herself, determined to get even for what happened to her, in THE DEVIL'S DUE. How would I have weathered the situations I placed Jen in?
Let's start at the beginning.
Somehow we think about horrible experiences as being what happens to other people...not us. But, when you are in the head of a character you've placed in peril, in my opinion, you have to feel what they feel to make them three dimensional. I don't know of a reader who likes learning about cardboard characters. Like an actress or actor, sometimes you have to think about things that happened to you to get in touch with how the character would be affected.
Someone once told me that reactions are strange things. You see someone trip, then fall. Inexplicably, you start to giggle. Why? Not because you thought it was funny, but because you are relieved it didn't happen to you. Think about that? Have you ever done it or something similar? I remember seeing a crash on the freeway and feeling almost giddy...it was their car, not mine.
So how you would really feel if you woke up in a strange room, couldn't move and realized that you were bound hand and foot. Couldn't call out because of the gag cutting into your mouth. Heart pounding, what do you do?
When I'd reached, oh probably the eighth or ninth draft...remember, I worked on this over a very long period of time...I read that first chapter aloud in a writer's group. One of the members said, "It's a good beginning. It grabs you, but you've got it wrong. I was kidnapped and one of the first things I did was move my fingers and toes to make sure they were there. Sounds strange, but it's what I did. I think she should do that somewhere in the first chapter, trying to get a grip on reality. Where is she? Why? Is everything in tact, or has she been hurt? Let the reader feel her terror."
Another member said, "I don't think she'd think in full sentences. Try short bursts. I think that's what I would do in that situation. Hell, I can't picture having the reasoning power to construct perfect sentences when panic is setting in."
I took their suggestions and went back to the drawing board again. Now A DREAM LOST starts like this:
CHAPTER 1
A door slamming makes one jump, but it doesn't make one afraid. What one fears is the serpent that crawls underneath it. Collette, Cheri
CHICAGO, NOVEMBER, 1956.
I didn’t care if I ever opened my eyes again. Had it really been a year? A whole year of forcing myself to go on? Images raced through my mind like the pictures in one of those flip books—the kind that look like they’re moving when the pages are fanned.
As each new image appeared, my feeling of terror built. They sped up, swirling faster and faster.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
Soon the sheet was drenched with perspiration. A non-stop string of panicked thoughts taunted me. Can’t breathe. Arms, legs. Hurt. Move, move. Paralyzed? Please God, not polio. Relax. Breathe. Nightmare. Where’s Mama? Work early? Breathe. Breathe. Judy still here?
Shout!
I tried to cry out, but my tongue slid around something wedged in my mouth, while hot tears welled in my eyes.
Concentrate!
I fixed on bits of dust clinging to a leafy design pressed into the plaster ceiling, thinking they looked like furry caterpillars ready to spin cocoons.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. Not my ceiling! Not my room!
Well, that gives you a little taste of what's to come. The next post will discuss how I moved on from there.
---Arliss Adams
COMING IN 2010
A DREAM LOST
THE DEVIL'S DUE
Let's start at the beginning.
Somehow we think about horrible experiences as being what happens to other people...not us. But, when you are in the head of a character you've placed in peril, in my opinion, you have to feel what they feel to make them three dimensional. I don't know of a reader who likes learning about cardboard characters. Like an actress or actor, sometimes you have to think about things that happened to you to get in touch with how the character would be affected.
Someone once told me that reactions are strange things. You see someone trip, then fall. Inexplicably, you start to giggle. Why? Not because you thought it was funny, but because you are relieved it didn't happen to you. Think about that? Have you ever done it or something similar? I remember seeing a crash on the freeway and feeling almost giddy...it was their car, not mine.
So how you would really feel if you woke up in a strange room, couldn't move and realized that you were bound hand and foot. Couldn't call out because of the gag cutting into your mouth. Heart pounding, what do you do?
When I'd reached, oh probably the eighth or ninth draft...remember, I worked on this over a very long period of time...I read that first chapter aloud in a writer's group. One of the members said, "It's a good beginning. It grabs you, but you've got it wrong. I was kidnapped and one of the first things I did was move my fingers and toes to make sure they were there. Sounds strange, but it's what I did. I think she should do that somewhere in the first chapter, trying to get a grip on reality. Where is she? Why? Is everything in tact, or has she been hurt? Let the reader feel her terror."
Another member said, "I don't think she'd think in full sentences. Try short bursts. I think that's what I would do in that situation. Hell, I can't picture having the reasoning power to construct perfect sentences when panic is setting in."
I took their suggestions and went back to the drawing board again. Now A DREAM LOST starts like this:
CHAPTER 1
A door slamming makes one jump, but it doesn't make one afraid. What one fears is the serpent that crawls underneath it. Collette, Cheri
CHICAGO, NOVEMBER, 1956.
I didn’t care if I ever opened my eyes again. Had it really been a year? A whole year of forcing myself to go on? Images raced through my mind like the pictures in one of those flip books—the kind that look like they’re moving when the pages are fanned.
As each new image appeared, my feeling of terror built. They sped up, swirling faster and faster.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
Soon the sheet was drenched with perspiration. A non-stop string of panicked thoughts taunted me. Can’t breathe. Arms, legs. Hurt. Move, move. Paralyzed? Please God, not polio. Relax. Breathe. Nightmare. Where’s Mama? Work early? Breathe. Breathe. Judy still here?
Shout!
I tried to cry out, but my tongue slid around something wedged in my mouth, while hot tears welled in my eyes.
Concentrate!
I fixed on bits of dust clinging to a leafy design pressed into the plaster ceiling, thinking they looked like furry caterpillars ready to spin cocoons.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. Not my ceiling! Not my room!
Well, that gives you a little taste of what's to come. The next post will discuss how I moved on from there.
---Arliss Adams
COMING IN 2010
A DREAM LOST
THE DEVIL'S DUE
Friday, July 24, 2009
WHERE DID THE WEEK GO?
My goodness. In only twenty minutes it will be Saturday. Where did the time go? It seems like it was Monday a day or so ago. It's been one of those weeks when a lot was accomplished, and nothing was accomplished. One day fully wasted, trying to figure out what was going on with AOL, only to discover that once again they made a change without really letting subscribers know. Oh well, all's well that ends well, but they stole one of my days.
When I was writing the first draft of what was then "Dance Ballerina Dance," (now A DREAM LOST and THE DEVIL'S DUE) I didn't worry about the internet. It was around 1995, and e-mail was still something most people didn't have. The fax was the big thing. Right about that time, I was pulling together the pieces of a puzzle that would eventually become my first attempt at fiction.
I had the story of the kidnapped ballerina, I had some of what happened to her afterwards, but there were so many directions it could go. I just didn't know which fork in the road to follow. Finally I decided that I would use those first bits as the nucleus of the story. From there it could go anywhere my mind wanted it to, unlike writing magazine articles about specific things. I wouldn't have to adhere to the truth. I could create places, people, scenes, obstacles, triumphs and all of the other elements that make up a good fiction novel.
The problem was I'd never written fiction. I was an avid reader, but all of the nuances that I should have picked up from wonderful writers, skipped right past me. Oh, was I ever off base. First of all I thought it had to be big in order to sell it to an agent or publisher. How does 600 pages sound? Ridiculous for a first time fiction author--that's how it sounds to me now. But that was then. Use an outline, a time line, plotting sheets? Why? Just start to write. Let those creative juices flow.
Anyone reading this who is a seasoned writer, probably senses big problems on the horizon right about now. But did I know I was starting down a fourteen year road? You bet I didn't. "Probably knock it out in six months or so."--that's what I told myself, and told myself and told myself as months turned into years.
Over the next several posts, I'll talk about how Shawn (can't even remember the last name I gave her) became Jen Connor. And, how very much I learned from Jen.
That's it for tonight.
--Arliss Adams
When I was writing the first draft of what was then "Dance Ballerina Dance," (now A DREAM LOST and THE DEVIL'S DUE) I didn't worry about the internet. It was around 1995, and e-mail was still something most people didn't have. The fax was the big thing. Right about that time, I was pulling together the pieces of a puzzle that would eventually become my first attempt at fiction.
I had the story of the kidnapped ballerina, I had some of what happened to her afterwards, but there were so many directions it could go. I just didn't know which fork in the road to follow. Finally I decided that I would use those first bits as the nucleus of the story. From there it could go anywhere my mind wanted it to, unlike writing magazine articles about specific things. I wouldn't have to adhere to the truth. I could create places, people, scenes, obstacles, triumphs and all of the other elements that make up a good fiction novel.
The problem was I'd never written fiction. I was an avid reader, but all of the nuances that I should have picked up from wonderful writers, skipped right past me. Oh, was I ever off base. First of all I thought it had to be big in order to sell it to an agent or publisher. How does 600 pages sound? Ridiculous for a first time fiction author--that's how it sounds to me now. But that was then. Use an outline, a time line, plotting sheets? Why? Just start to write. Let those creative juices flow.
Anyone reading this who is a seasoned writer, probably senses big problems on the horizon right about now. But did I know I was starting down a fourteen year road? You bet I didn't. "Probably knock it out in six months or so."--that's what I told myself, and told myself and told myself as months turned into years.
Over the next several posts, I'll talk about how Shawn (can't even remember the last name I gave her) became Jen Connor. And, how very much I learned from Jen.
That's it for tonight.
--Arliss Adams
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
SHAME ON ME - ABOUT COMMITMENTS
Well, I made a commitment to myself to post on this blog almost every day, and I blew it! Here it is the 21st, and I haven't posted anything since the 16th. Yeah, I know, things come up, other priorities, but it would be far too easy to say that and get away with it.
I have the time to read e-mails...some of them total spam; I have the time to find inconsequential things to do. So why couldn't I find the time to post for the past four days? No excuse, ma'am. I'm guilty and will try to be better in the future.
Yesterday I got the "go" signal from L&L Dreamspell for the second book, THE DEVIL'S DUE, and signed the contract. Now it's a reality. In some ways, it's sad, though. The end of something I've lived with for over fourteen years. There was always that manuscript to edit, changes to be made, errors to be discovered. From this point on, there will be a few go-arounds of the publisher's edits, reviewing the galley, and then...and then...holding both books in my hand.
Hmmm, if I had to choose between a never-ending round of rewriting and holding those books, it would be a no-brainer. Holding the books, of course. It means I can go on to other projects, knowing that I've learned so very much from the journey I started with a first-time fiction novel entitled "Dance Ballerina Dance" to the polished end result. Most of the versions exist somewhere in the stacks, file drawers, floor, and other receptacles in my office, and with each one there is a new element. A new title, a new character, a new understanding of Jen's voice, a new cruel twist...it's all there on floppy disks, CD's and DVD's. A history of how I learned to write fiction.
Along with that memory, are all of the people who had a hand in it along the way. On-line groups, conferences, writer's groups, author friends, reader friends, family...they're all there in the history of the books.
I was going to write more about how the story evolved today, but went off on a tangent again, so I guess that will be reserved for tomorrow. Today I'm just going to take the time to appreciate everyone who helped me achieve the dream of telling the story...sharing it and hopefully pulling at readers' heartstrings and their joy...their sense of protectiveness and their anger. Those are the emotions swirling around in this work. Sometimes I would be sitting at the computer crying as I wrote, because I'd gotten so into the character. When people reading the manuscript tell me they cried, too, I know I accomplished what I was aiming for.
More tomorrow, I promise.
--ARLISS ADAMS
I have the time to read e-mails...some of them total spam; I have the time to find inconsequential things to do. So why couldn't I find the time to post for the past four days? No excuse, ma'am. I'm guilty and will try to be better in the future.
Yesterday I got the "go" signal from L&L Dreamspell for the second book, THE DEVIL'S DUE, and signed the contract. Now it's a reality. In some ways, it's sad, though. The end of something I've lived with for over fourteen years. There was always that manuscript to edit, changes to be made, errors to be discovered. From this point on, there will be a few go-arounds of the publisher's edits, reviewing the galley, and then...and then...holding both books in my hand.
Hmmm, if I had to choose between a never-ending round of rewriting and holding those books, it would be a no-brainer. Holding the books, of course. It means I can go on to other projects, knowing that I've learned so very much from the journey I started with a first-time fiction novel entitled "Dance Ballerina Dance" to the polished end result. Most of the versions exist somewhere in the stacks, file drawers, floor, and other receptacles in my office, and with each one there is a new element. A new title, a new character, a new understanding of Jen's voice, a new cruel twist...it's all there on floppy disks, CD's and DVD's. A history of how I learned to write fiction.
Along with that memory, are all of the people who had a hand in it along the way. On-line groups, conferences, writer's groups, author friends, reader friends, family...they're all there in the history of the books.
I was going to write more about how the story evolved today, but went off on a tangent again, so I guess that will be reserved for tomorrow. Today I'm just going to take the time to appreciate everyone who helped me achieve the dream of telling the story...sharing it and hopefully pulling at readers' heartstrings and their joy...their sense of protectiveness and their anger. Those are the emotions swirling around in this work. Sometimes I would be sitting at the computer crying as I wrote, because I'd gotten so into the character. When people reading the manuscript tell me they cried, too, I know I accomplished what I was aiming for.
More tomorrow, I promise.
--ARLISS ADAMS
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