Hey everybody…no #fridayflash this week, but that’s ok. I’ve actually been working more on the first draft of my new project. I don’t have a title yet, but it’s a post apocalyptic faerie story. Sound crazy, but it’s fun so far.

So…what are you all working on lately? Anything interesting. Tell me all about it!

I was thinking the other day about what helps me most as a writer. What have I done that has helped me improve my writing. I broke it down into, reading, writing and feedback.

…Reading not only books about writing, but just books in general. Seeing how other writers put sentences together, weave stories, etc.

…Writing of course…as the saying goes, “Practice makes perfect.”

…Feedback. I feel like I made and continue to make big strides after I joined a writer’s group and got feedback. Not the ‘Oh you’re awesome’ variety,  (because let me tell you, it’s rare!!) but the constructive variety. Here’s what’s wrong with it, and here’s how you can make it better. I don’t know how writers DON’T go to writer’s groups, honestly.

There are other things that help, workshops, etc. but those are my big three.

What are yours?

She sat alone in the still darkness. The only sound was her nervous, raspy breathing.  Steeling herself, she peeked through the crack between the doors of the cramped supply closet in which she sat.  An overturned table, a broken window; the signs of chaos were everywhere though the cause of the chaos could no longer be seen.  The orange setting sun cast long shadows that crept over the floors and walls like spidery fingers.  She pressed her ear to the door and held her breath in an attempt to hear something…anything.  The screams of the living had died out long ago.

The one thing she was certain of was that she could not stay in this closet for too much longer. She’d already been there a day and a night.  Hunger gnawed at her stomach and her mouth was as dry as the Sahara.  The closet provided safety though.  To leave the closet might mean harm…and pain.  If she were going to leave the safety of the closet though she’d have to do it now, while the last few beams of sunlight still hung in the sky.  Leaving her refuge in darkness would be suicide.

There was no way she could last another night without water.  She didn’t know the building at all, she’d just run in here when…

There had to be a bathroom or a water fountain someplace. She could find it, fill up the empty water bottle in her purse and then run back to her hiding place before being noticed.  Part of her was shocked she’d made it this long. She knew they were out there. They were smart and their numbers were many.

She laughed sardonically to herself as she remembered something her father had always told her.

“Most situations give you two options, kiddo.” He’d said.  “Your best bet is the weigh the pros and cons of each option.  Whichever option has the least cons is most likely your better option.”

Good advice. It certainly applied to this situation.  She could leave or she could stay.  Staying would mean death eventually from hunger and no water.  That was a major con in her book.  Of course, leaving could mean death, and from the screams she’d heard, that death would probably be a lot more painful than dying from thirst.  Of course leaving was also her only option when it came to staying alive.  Maybe their reign of terror was over now and they had left.  Maybe somebody would come for her. No. If that was going to happen, it already would have.  If there were other survivors, they would have already ventured out looking for others. That was unless they were all the epitome of indecision like she was…sitting in their little hiding places with their pros and cons scales, weighing out what to do.

Die in the closet or die in the hallway, it would all be over soon one way or the other. Slowly she stood up and took the door handle.

“Are you ready! You better be, because here I come!”  With that she crashed out of the doors and into the empty room.

Her exuberance was a little too much as she slipped on the broken glass of the window and fell on her side.  Fortunately she didn’t cut herself.  That’s all she would need, a huge gash and no doctor to help fix her up.  She stood up and dusted herself off, remaining low to the ground.  The orange had left the sky and it was now a cool gray.  Deciding to peek out the window she stood up and held the water bottle low by her waist so if they saw her through the window it might appear as if she had the gun.

The view out the broken window was terrible.  Carnage was everywhere.  She felt herself go weak at the knees and brought a hand to her mouth in horror at the sight of it all. How was this possible? It couldn’t be.

She remembered the other day when this had all started…when the squirrels first attacked. Thinking it had just been some odd coincidence that had sent these squirrels after her she had run into the nearest building. The one squirrel, no doubt the leader, had taunted her from outside the building.  Soon, more squirrels had gathered, others started to take notice and before she knew it they had started attacking passers by.  The attacks were more than just throwing acorns like it had been with her.  These new attacks were more violent, blood had been drawn and in the end, there had been death.

From what she could see out the window, she was definitely lucky to have made it this long.  A noise from outside shook her from her thoughts. She stepped to the door and backed up against the frame and looked over her shoulder down the hallway, TV cop style.  A water fountain stood about fifty feet from where she was now.  Silently giving herself the one, two, three count she sprinted down the hall and to the fountain.  She pushed on the button but no water came out.  She pushed it again. Nothing.  Then she noticed that as it grew darker outside, there was no light on in the hallway.  Had they cut the power? Was that possible?

It didn’t really matter. She couldn’t stay in this deserted building forever. Her action decided, she took a deep breath, and strode outside…come what may.

Laila loved the dandelions, especially when they went to seed. She called them “puffballs” and I never corrected her because I never knew what they were really called, anyway.Laila was six that spring and I thought it was the perfect age. Her easy smile and rapture with the world around her breathed life into me, when my own was dwindling. Though I didn’t know it yet.

It was the spring after we’d left her father. He wasn’t a nice person, I’d always known it, but stupidly I stuck around anyway. I can take a lot, always have, but once he started in on Laila , well, I wasn’t going to let that happen. The first four years of her life he was nice enough, but as bills mounted and he started blaming her for our problems, I knew it was time to go. She deserved better, so I squirreled away money until we were able to rent a small house on the edge of town.

We spent that spring in our backyard, amongst the dandelions. The lawn was filled with them. Laila would pull them from the earth and blow the puffballs until clouds of seeds drifted in the cool early spring air. The Weed-Gone guy stopped by more times than I care to think about, begging us to get the yard sprayed, but I kind of liked the splash of color in the grass and once Laila understood that he meant to kill the dandelions, she made me promise I’d never kill the “fairies.”

“Fairies?” I said. “Honey, they’re just flowers, weeds at that.”

“No, Mommy. They’re fairies. Don’t let them die.”

This kind of whimsy wasn’t unusual for Laila. She saw fairies in everything. Sparks from a campfire, mist rising off a lake, dandelion seeds…they were all fairies. Why shouldn’t a six year old get to see fairies? Besides, it had started when her father had started to show her his darker side, so I figured it was something that kept her happy through the sad times, just like watching her play among her “fairies” kept me happy.

It was also that spring that I knew something was wrong with me. It started out as just fatigue. And who wouldn’t be tired after working three part time jobs? But I knew it was something more, something darker, even if I didn’t want to know what it was.   Even Laila noticed something because she kept telling me to rest. She said she’d be ok, she’d go play with the fairies and she’d fix this. I had no idea what she meant to fix, but that became our afternoon ritual. I’d lie down and she’d go in the backyard and play.

And then one day, she disappeared.

I woke up later than usual. I’d set the alarm clock, but the blinking numbers told me we’d lost power at some point.

“Laila?”

No answer.

“Laila, honey?”

Silence.

I flung the light blanket off of me and raced through the back door. My stomach lurched as my mind went through all the horrid possibilities. Had she run off? Had her father taken her? Had somebody else? I looked under all the bushes, in the shed, everywhere she might hide. I raced through the yard, screaming her name. Dandelion seeds clung to my sweaty skin, wove into my hair and clothes as my pulse pounded and finally, my body gave out. I lay in the grass, staring up at the blue sky, knowing whatever it was that had been eating away at me for the past year was here to finish me off.

Dandelion seeds floated all around me and then I saw them. I saw the fairies. I actually saw them. Their slender bodies danced and glided on the breeze. Their shocks of white hair twisted around them as they smiled down at me. I smiled back, thinking in the back of my mind, that I’d finally lost it. Is this how it ends? My daughter is kidnapped and I die in the backyard thinking I’m seeing fairies? My daughter…

“Laila?” I said, but it didn’t come out any louder than a whisper. I wanted to sit up, but my body didn’t move. The fairies were still there. Hell, since I was seeing them anyway, maybe they could help. “I need to  find Laila. Please.”

One of them drifted closer to me. She was a little bigger than the other ones. Her white hair was streaked with every shade of yellow. She had an air about her, something regal. When she spoke, her voice was soothing, like cold lemonade on a summer day. “She’s here. She’s fine, and you will be fine too.”

“I’m dying.”

“Yes, you are, but Laila has asked us a favor, and we have granted it. She saved us when so many others mean to do us harm. This is no small kindness. We owe her a great deal.”

“What?” I tried to say more, but by lungs refused to take in air. Whatever dark thing had hunted me, was now here for me and it wouldn’t leave empty handed.

“Mommy?” Laila’s voice rang in my ears. I knew it was her, but I looked around and she wasn’t there. “Mommy, it’s going to be ok.” Just then, another fairy drifted in close to the older one. She was small, and the most beautiful of all the ones there. I squinted to look closer and it was Laila. Her blond hair glowed like sunbeams as she grinned down at me. She was so radiant, tears came to my eyes. “I fixed it,” she said. Then she came closer to me and whispered, “Close your eyes.”

I did. And then I was floating. My body was still in the emerald grass, bursts of gorgeous yellow dandelions all around me. Laila and I drifted on the breeze with the other fairies. We were part of their world now and we were free.

Hey everybody! Today really is a happy Tuesday as I am very happy to introduce, author, mom and creator of ‘PROMO DAY,’ Jo Linsdell.

V.R.L: Thanks for being a part of our Featured Writer Series, Jo! You, like our previous guest Cheryl Malandrinos, are a super busy lady! First off, tell us how you got started writing?

Jo: Thanks for having me. I’ve always liked writing. Even when I was very young I would enjoy creative writing exercises in English lessons at school. When I became a teenager I started writing poetry as a way to vent my thoughts and clear my ideas. It was very therapeutic. However, my writing career started after I moved to Rome, Italy.
I did a job where I was writing articles about the dental industry and then later wrote research articles with the Department of Neurology at the Umberto I hospital here in Rome. During this time, the feeling of wanting to write about topics that interested me and to create my own pieces grew. I submitted my first article to ‘The Florentine’, an English language newspaper in Florence in June 2005 and they printed it straight away. Despite having been a writer for some time, this was when I realised I was one.

You are the author of two non-fiction books, “Italian for Tourists” and “A Guide to Weddings in Italy.” You also run two very successful blogs, and just launched another one, 1st Time Mums. Can you tell us a little about your various projects?

Jo: I came to Italy in 2001 with the intention of staying just 3 days in Rome. I’m still here. Needless to say I fell in love with the city. At the beginning I didn’t speak a word of Italian and although there were lots of phrasebooks on the market, most contained too much information and got confusing or contained information that wasn’t of any use.
After I’d been here a few years and had become bilingual, I decided to write Italian for tourists. The idea being to create a phrasebook that was easy to use and covered only the words and phrases needed by tourists. Since then I’ve written an updated version in pocket format.
A guide to weddings in Italy came about when I got married in 2006. Italy is not the easiest of places as far as documents go. Processes tend to be slow and things can be very confusing. A book like this would have been of great help to me back then and so I figured would also be appreciated by others planning on tying the knot here.

My first blog http://astheromansdo.blogspot.com covers anything and everything related to Italy. http://writersandauthors.blogspot.com is a site for people in the writing industry where I post interviews with other members of the industry, book reviews, features about useful websites, events and contests.
http://1sttimemums.blogspot.com is my new blog that I launched in March this year. The idea is to create a community for 1st Time Mums whilst offering information and advice. My son was born in December 2007 and I often get asked for advice from pregnant friends or other mums. The website has it’s own fan page on facebook and welcomes guest posts from other mums. 1st Time Mums often have questions they’re afraid to ask because they think they’ll sound stupid or are too embarrassed to talk about. This blog will try to answer all of them.

Being a writer and a mother, your obviously very busy. What is a typical day like for you?
With an energetic two year old, I don’t really have a typical day. What I manage to get done will depend on him as he is my first priority. Luckily I’m a good multi-tasker and quite well organised. I normally try to get house work, shopping and other chores done in the morning. Weather allowing a trip to the park after lunch is always good as my son gets to play with the other kids and helps to tire him out a bit. He’s then calmer in the afternoon and will happily draw, play with playdoh or watch a cartoon, giving me an hour or so to get some work done.
I try to break down my to do list into bite sized tasks. This makes it easier to tick things off my list but also means I can easily take breaks between each task to play with my son. I deal with bigger tasks when my husband is home so he can take care of the little one and allow me to concentrate on what needs doing.

You are the organizer and founder of PROMO DAY, which is coming up in May. Please tell us about that.

PROMO DAY is an annual online event for people in the writing industry that takes place at http://jolinsdell.tripod.com/promoday. This year it will be on Saturday 15th May. It’s free to attend and open to all. No registration necessary. Just turn up on the day and join in the fun.
I’ve got some fantastic workshops lined up for this years event. All times listed are in Central European Time.

Sandy Lender- Virtual Tours- 4pm-5pm
Reno Lovison- Video trailers- 5pm-6pm
Carolyn Howard Johnson- Queries- 7pm-8pm
Lillian Cauldwell- Interviews and internet radio- 8pm-9pm
Joyce Anthony- Blogging- 10pm-11pm
Janet Elaine Smith- Turning work into fun (marketing) – Time to be confirmed
Karina Fabian- Making promotional materials- Time to be confirmed
I’ll also be presenting a workshop about social media.

There will be forums on the site where writers can promote their work and post their links. There will also be sections of publishing companies, services for writers e.g. virtual assistants, illustrators, editors etc, job listings, for posting writing samples and more.
I’m very happy that this years event is sponsored by ‘Pump up your book’. I hope that thousands will take advantage of this opportunity to promote, network and learn.

Where can we read more about you and your work?

My main website is http://jolinsdell.tripod.com here you can find more information about me and links to my various projects.
My books are available at www.lulu.com and www.amazon.com
I’m on various social media sites, including to name a few; twitter, facebook, LinkedIn, myspace and ning under ‘Jo Linsdell’. Please feel free to add me.

Ok, so I’ve been toying with the idea of participating in the #fridayflash phenomenon. (Pardon the slight alliteration. Couldn’t be helped.)

A couple of my writerly friends do it and are quite good! Here are two of them:

Weezel

G.P. Ching

I’m truly amazed that they can come up with new stories every Friday, but more importantly, GOOD ones. It’s inspiring.

So, for those of you that participate in #fridayflash…has it helped you? Do you enjoy it? What have your experiences been?

For those who have not…why not? Would you want to give it a try?

Ernest Hemingway, Kenya, 1953

One of my favorite authors is Ernest Hemingway. In my opinion, he was a brilliant writer, but let’s face it…he had some issues. Ok, lots of issues and based on quotes like this, he was aware of it:

That sounds like a better choice.

As a writer, or any artist really, you get a lot of opinions thrown at you. Art is subjective. Your work will hit everybody a little differently. Your close friends and family will most likely err on the side of being positive about your work, which for a baby artist, can be nice. After all, nobody wants to get shot down before they even start.

But there comes a time, when you have to leave that safety zone and open up your work to the opinions of *gulp* strangers. Not unlike your child’s first day of school or later teaching them how to drive, this can be one of the most exciting and terrifying experiences you will ever have.

I remember the first time I went to my local writer’s group, we read our pieces aloud for each other and then were given a critique. My physical reaction to reading my work to a bunch of strangers for the first time was rather like going in for a job interview that I wasn’t sure I was qualified for. Sweaty palms, guts in knots, that sick burning in your stomach like you’re going to barf. (And this was supposed to be my idea of fun?!) The cup of coffee I slugged down while waiting for my turn didn’t help. But at the end, I managed not to run to the bathroom and barf, and lo and behold, the comments were mostly positive. The criticisms were constructive and helpful. That was over 4 years ago and I STILL consult these people when I write. I know they will be honest yet gentle with their criticisms.

Because criticism is how we grow and learn as writers. But we can’t get the criticism if we don’t put it out there. A friend who recently discovered that I wrote read some of my stuff and then asked why I kind of kept it a secret. Saying, “fear of rejection” wasn’t a good answer, so I just shrugged. He replied, “This isn’t something you should hide.” How true. Because I promise you, there is always going to be somebody out there that doesn’t like your work, and doesn’t have a nice thing to say about it. So it’s true, if you never put it out there, you’ll never get that rejection. You’ll also never get the compliments or criticisms that will help you grow and become better at your craft. So which is worse?

Hey everybody! Happy Tuesday. I said in an earlier post how Tuesday kind of stunk. Luckily now, we have a way to make it better. For our third installment of our Featured Writer Series, I’d like to introduce you to Susan Mordigal.

VRL: Hi Susan, thanks for your time! Tell us a little about your writing.

I am still a ‘student’ of picture books, meaning I’m still studying the ins and outs and the craft of writing a book for this very young audience.  I have however written many short stories for young people and articles about pets, pet therapy and medical issues.

VRL: Are you currently involved in a writing project?

Yes, I am working on writing and illustrating a picture book about our rescue dog –  his story of how he came to us.  We are a certified pet therapy team and I also plan to write and illustrate a picture book about our adventures in this rewarding cause.

VRL: How do you combat times when you’re uninspired?

Luckily this has never been a problem for me, for writing or illustrating. I literally see inspiration everywhere. I seem to have the opposite problem –too many ideas!  I have a sort of ADD I guess.  I’ll get a great idea, work with it, then I’ll get another one, start it up, then something else inspiring will come along, etc. etc.  It’s sort of like people who have endless craft projects or home improvements in the works.  I try very hard to stay focused, but sometimes it’s a challenge, my biggest enemy is not enough time!

VRL: What interests you about this specific genre?

I have a passion for helping others and for animals in need.  I found pet therapy to be the perfect mix of these two, everyone wins!  In the future, I also plan on broadening my subject matter to wildlife, and children and their loved ones coping with illnesses.

VRL: When can we expect to see your book?

My deadline has to be flexible because of the circumstances in my life right now, but I’m hoping to have a book ‘dummy’ completely ready to send to publishers no later than two years from now.  I am also keeping the door open for self-publishing.

VRL: Where can reader sample some of your writing?

On my blog there are several articles under the category ‘articles’.

VRL: Do you blog about your book?

I blog about the fact that the book is in the works, but do not share any specific passages or illustrations from the book.  I try hard to showcase good artwork and interesting topics on my blog – people seem to like it and I’ve made some wonderful friends!

As writer’s we  write what we are presented with. An idea or characters start to form, and we write it. When that inspiration hits, it’s the best feeling in the world. Birds sing when you walk by, the sun shines a little brighter. For me, seriously, it’s like falling in love.

Then we edit. Some people love it, some people hate it. For me, this is the time in the relationship where the honeymoon is over, and now we’re starting to fight and argue. We fight, we make up…sometimes. But now the scars are there. It’s make it or break it time. If we can make it through the editing process, we can make it through anything, and hopefully we’ll be better and stronger on the other side.

Then, we send it out, get an agent and a huge advance and a multi book publishing deal. We start hanging out with big time authors and having millions of people worship us. For me…ok, I don’t know what that’s like yet, but I’ll bet it’s awesome.

Basically, we write because we love it and we can’t NOT do it. If we’re honest with ourselves, we write for ourselves, NOT for other people. We hope beyond hope that other people, (besides our writing group buddies) like reading our work too, because if we are to make a LIVING off of our writing, it’s essential that other people like it. But, what do readers really want?

As a reader, my must haves are plot and character. Style is important, but secondary. I love a good turn of phrase, but if there’s no plot and character, so what?

As a reader, what’s important to you?

Here’s an interesting article by Salon’s own Laura Miller on that very topic.