Saturday, October 12, 2013

Someone browsing in a bookshop won't read as much as 100 words

The 100 limit is a great discipline. Someone browsing in a bookshop won't read as much as 100 words, they probably need to be grabbed by the opening line.

* April 1, 2012

,andlike this

Heather Marie

Published Author

Tom, yes, I agree.

Brent, you do have a good point; Western Watch does sound like an interesting book. I have a couple of suggestions.

* Allow your picture to be seen on LInked In - this allows many more people to reach out to you more easily who may not send comments to a non-picture.

* Find another writer here on this thread and send a message asking them to read a chapter from your book (up to 20 pages or so), and give you feedback. You can offer to do the same for them. Make sure you have a copyright.

* Find websites such as Northern Liberty Reviews, an online quarterly journal, who will allow you to send in up to 5,000 words, for example, or ten pages. The last time I checked NLR charged $2 for this.

* Spend your time sending queries to agents and small publishers.

* April 2, 2012

,andlike this


Freelance writer

Thanks for sparking this discussion, Heather Marie.

My book is a collection of short stories called "The Meaning Of Children."

Pivotal underappreciated moments in the world of girls and women, in childhood, adolescence, parenthood, or life as a whole; disparate decades and narrative voices woven together by themes of sex, death, social prejudice, and love, always love.

Since there are 14 stories, there's no one main character

First hundred words:

If I'm sleeping when the arguing starts, their voices will get louder and louder till they break into my dreams. It happened again last night. I woke up and lay there, listening in the dark. Maybe I should have been afraid but I wasn't. For one thing, they never yelled at us kids, and for another, it happened so often that I'd grown used to it. Besides, I learned a lot when they fought. My sister Lisa was awake too, standing in her crib, fingers in her mouth, eyes shiny and round as marbles. I got out of bed and

* April 2, 2012

,andlike this


HI All,

I had posted the openings for 2 of my novels. I was hoping for some feedback. If anyone wishes to email me, please do. Honesty appreciated. If it's not a genre you read and you want to comment, I'm open to that too as long as it's about the writing. Thank-you,

* April 2, 2012

,like this


Independent Training Specialist at Forseng Consulting

Hi Heather:

Hi Heather:

Thank you for the feedback. I actually have not yet completed Western Watch, but it is close. As for pictures, you are correct, but somehow I never seem to get around to having what I would consider a good picture taken. I had not heard of Liberty reviews, I shall investigate. I also had not considered finding someone on the group to read a chapter. I do belong to a writers' group and they are pretty ruthless in pointing out the flaws in my writing (and to be fair, also the good parts).

I do have a question to the group. How does one ensure copyright on an unpublished work? I seem to recall that in Canada one can print a copy, mail it to oneself by registered mail, and keep the unopened envelop. In court (not that anyone really wants to go to court) that would be considered evidence of copyright. I'm not sure if this is true or not. And of course, copyright and copyright enforcement is orders of magnitude more complex in the digital age.

* April 2, 2012

likes this

Heather Marie

Published Author

Brant, that is an excellent question. It is always best to check with your attorney before beginning any business. It's a good idea to take your writing seriously if you want to publish. As a writer, we need to copyright our work to avoid any problems down the road. Serious writers take the craft of writing seriously and believe their manuscript is worth protecting. Registering a literary copyright online is $35, but I don't have the link as of right now. Or you can pay the cost of mailing your manuscript to yourself. Or both. The copyright date you use is when you started writing the book.

* April 3, 2012

,like this


Writer and Editor

Seven Days in Usha Village: A Conversation With Dr. Sebi

Main Character: Dr. Sebi

Seven Days in Usha Village is the culmination of a seven-day interview in Honduras, Central America with herbal medicine specialist Dr. Sebi

Mountains filled with lush, dark green tropical trees and plants surround Dr. Sebi's Usha Village, a healing center in a town called Agua Caliente, 24 miles east of La Ceiba. His thermal hot spring runs from the mountains straight down to the middle of his 14 cabins-he calls them huts. An African mask hangs over the entrance to the yellow hut once occupied by the late hip hop singer Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes. Like others before her, she sought healing and contemplation at Usha Village. Several mornings I stepped outside my cabin and experienced a natural pedicure, as warm waters from the hot spring flowed over my bare feet. I usually use a cream moisturizer on my feet after bathing. No need for that at the village.

* April 3, 2012

,like this

Michael A. D.


From Drive-In to Hard Drive: My Movie Journey (thus far)

I grew up five minutes' drive (or a considerably longer walk) from a drive-in movie theatre. This one had the added allure of being a seaside drive-in, so the pounding Caribbean surf was often a welcome counterpoint to the score and soundtrack of the particular film being shown.

Sadly, the seaside location that was such a boon for the aesthetics, was also the key element in it's downfall. Deadly Hurricane Gilbert, which ravaged the island in 1988, did not spare the property, and with the cinema world moving toward the multiplex and -inexorably -to the digitally produced and displayed films of today, the owners, who enjoyed (and still do) a virtual monopoly on commercial film exhibition, decided against reviving the drive-in.

* April 4, 2012Joyce E.


Front Desk by Joyce Johnson: The fun and scary adventures of a front desk clerk in a Resort in Montana. "Tendrils of steam slid and curled up off the surface of the hot springs pool. Molly Longfellow stood at the edge mesmerized by the reflection of the sun dancing on the bottom; it looked like living crystal. The pool was half Olympic size, the biggest hot tub around, and perfectly pristine new mineral water poured in constantly.

She took a deep breath and stretched her arms up, then bent her knees, swung her arms back and sprang out in a racing dive, cutting into the water with a slap. It was indescribably satisfying to be the first to break its calm surface."

* April 6, 2012

,andlike this


Transmedia Writer-Director-Producer & Film Story & R.O.I. Consultant (Films, Games, TV, Novels, etc) at JT Velikovsky

Novel title: A Meaningless Sequence of Arbitrary Symbols.

Main character: Oscar

One sentence summary: "An 18 year old videogame-addicted American slacker discovers that God is a Game Designer.

What's it like? "The Catcher In the Rye meets Breakfast of Champions"

First 100 words:

Okay then Doods and Doodettes, here's the deal:

First of all, my name is Oscar J. Velikovsky (no relation), and I'm 18, and I'm an American - but of Russian extraction - and also, part German-Jew (and yes, I'm kinda conflicted about that) and part-Chinese (and proud of it, back off), so I'm kind of, pretty random.

Like, an EveryDude, or whatever. I always just wear a baseball cap, and jeans, and an old t-shirt - and last of all (and this becomes important, later in the story) - I'm dead.

In light of these three things, I must ask, please -

(ok so - that's 100 words.)

That was fun, thanks Heather Marie!

Any feedback on this - mucho appreciato


* April 6, 2012

,andlike thisSteve


Til We Meet Again - Charley Howard - Thirty two year old Charley Howard struggles to put her life back together after the tragic murder of her husband and the death of their unborn son.

Charlotte Howard threw open the executive suite door and marched toward the front entrance of the First Commerce Bank of Millburn, New Jersey. She was followed by the president of the financial institution, Harold Loomis. "Charlotte, wait " She kept walking with her chin up, lips pressed tightly together, portfolio clasped in one hand and her purse swinging from the other. Her heels clicked on the marble floor, as she hastened past the ornate pillars lining the lobby. Heads turned to watch the normally cheerful business woman defiantly walk out the door. Outside the bank, she paused to exhaled loudly and draw in a deep breath. The bright July sun instantly slapped a hot blanket around her.

* April 7, 2012

,andlike this

Charlotte Henley

Writing Quirky Fairy Tales for Grown-ups

From Maven Fairy Godmother-just released. My first book, written as an exploration of fractured fairy tales:

The Veiled Threat

"Good bye, my friends." Maven Morrigan held a short stack of CDs, all ancient hippie rockers. She needed gas money and there wasn't anything else left to pawn, but these reminders of her misspent youth. The van's CD player had long since conked out.

In her mind, her mother's voice reminded her of the waste of time and money she'd spent on college instead of getting a husband, babies and then, maybe, a real job. The last unemployment check was gone, spent on rent, gas, peanut butter and crackers. She was even out of instant coffee.

* April 7, 2012

,andlike this


Author, Artist, Advocate

"I Lie: A Journey through Mental Illness"

Work in Progress

A Memoir of my life. This is an inspirational autobiography about living with mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder and multiple personalities.


What animal walks on four feet in the morning,

two feet at noon, and three feet in the evening,

yet has only one voice?

* The riddle of the sphinx.


Looking back at my life from childhood through early adulthood is much like peering into a kaleidoscope. At one angle, there are only hues of white and gray. At another, the symmetrical images radiate so many colors and shapes, that I cannot make out what they are reflecting. I try to disseminate and understand the images as they appear to me, knowing that they are only truths as I perceive them.

In 1963, I was born in an army hospital on the west coast. My father was a Marine, serving in the Korean war. My mother divorced Dad while she was pregnant with me. There were four of us girls, myself being the youngest.

My mother loaded my sisters and me into her station wagon and drove to Kansas from California when I was two years old. We stayed with my grandparents on their farm for a couple of weeks, then lived in a house in Conway Springs. We later moved to a small town east of Wichita, Augusta, to live with friends of my mom's, then Mom rented a small house on Euclid Street when I was three.

* April 8, 2012

,like this



My Book is called, Children of Annwn: The Promise

It's a YA romantic fantasy.

My first 100 words.

Mia knows that many mysterious things happened when the darkness consumed the light, it had always been so. She stared out across the endless glossy water and her hair danced wildly as the fury of the wind whipped against her. She captured Ryder's hand and sunk her feet into the silky grains of white sand, her toes curled in the cold waters of the great sea. With her feet firmly planted and her back as rigid as an iron rod, nothing could move her. Not the howling wind or the coming storm, her mind was set

Thanks x

* April 12, 2012

,andlike this


Strategic Sales Specialist & Writer

I haven't named the book yet. Main character: 4 young boys.

4 young boys embark on a journey that teaches them about manhood through the eyes of an old knight.

No matter how fast he ran, it wasn't fast enough. He was constantly being chased by some hideous creature. He was out of breath, but he pushed on. It seemed miles that he ran. But this monster behind him would not give up. He ran in and out of trees, through weeds in the open field, over creeks, and over rocks. Wherever he ran, there it was right behind him, on the prowl, lurking, chasing.

He couldn't take it anymore. He was out of breath, suffocating under the weight of his own chest.

* April 12, 2012

,like this


Gateway Drugs


The question stuck me as a punch. the emergengy room doctor - finely piecred features, opaque skin, sans make up. In stark contrast to her tightly held curls, bright in reddish tone. Pale blue eyes peering through dark rimmed glasses asking pointedly again.

"So you're Indigent?" No she was no mean about. It was direct honest question posed to a woman before her in a questionable state. "Am I Indigent Am I?" Repeating the question. As the ER doctor continued to ask questions. I had been here before, when I was the other me. With a sick child. Caring for my dying father. I did not think Indigent was a word used any longer and now how did it belong to me.

* April 17, 2012

,like this


Novelist, Professional Writer, Author

Chocolate Lenin.

A crazed but brilliant scientist in a Russian chocolate factory recreates Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, and restores him back to life. A clever but quirky security team is formed to stop him before revolutions starts again.


* April 17, 2012

,like this


Adult Entertainment | Writer


On one side of the road, a sheer cliff that descended into a rapid and boulder strewn river some few hundred feet below. On the other, the mountain continued up. I couldn t concentrate as much as I wanted on driving the vehicle as I was too hot and the shirt I wore stuck to me from perspiration. Annabelle seemed unmoved by anything around her and stared out of the window in a way that I could tell she was avoiding looking down. She had always hated heights. In mountains I normally feel free but here the heat, road, Annabelle, all conspired to irritate me and stop me from relaxing.

* April 18, 2012

,andlike this


Writer / Author of Death of Heaven / Blogger* April 18, 2012

likes thisMarty

Independent Author

From "Raindrop Races," chapter one "The Boy with his Back to the Fence"

Although I never considered myself to be a businessman, I'd just completed a business meeting in California - a long way from my southern Illinois home. It was a good meeting, but I had the afterthoughts that frequently show up for me following such meetings. I typically thought that so much more could have been accomplished than what actually was. But I got over it. I tossed my work folders on the back seat of the rental car, carefully placed the directions to that night's rest on the front seat next to me, and pulled onto a four-lane street that would take me to the interstate.

* April 18, 2012

likes this


Independent Author

From "Phoenix to LA," prologue "My Father's War."

I finally got the call I hoped would never come. I had just checked in at a nice downtown hotel where I was planning to get a little dinner and prepare myself to give a morning workshop on treating people with brain injuries at the prestigious Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago. I had yet to turn on the lights in the hotel room as I dropped my suitcase on the floor, plunked my briefcase on the dresser, and sat down on the end of the bed. My older brother's voice over the cell phone shattered my best-of-well-made plans for the evening.

* April 18, 2012

,like this


Paranormal Author at Eternal PressI truly believe he started off with good intentions. But, then he lost his job, started drinking and I became his personal punching bag. After the third miscarriage I was told I could never have children. At that point, I really didn't care if I died.

* April 18, 2012

,andlike this


Author, film extra, medical school role player

Title: Crossing The Line

Main character: Nick Kiriacos

Brief synopsis:This is the story of a family's struggle to cope with their young son's special talent and the fight against those who wish to exploit it. Their journey is a painful one and a chance revelation threatens to break the family bond forever.

The two suited men stood shoulder to shoulder as they watched the dawn of a new age. Charles Hamilton broke the silence as they observed this great moment in scientific advancement. The strategically positioned CCTV allowed them complete anonymity and an uncluttered view.

'Ron, today, our names will go down in history. We will be remembered as the innovators, the pioneers; our children will read of our success and so will our grandchildrenA proud moment; don't you think ?'

'Oh yes a very proud moment.' His reply was not nearly as emphatic as it should have been, all things considered.

* April 18, 2012

,like this


Freelance writer

I'd like to give you an entire story, rather than just a few lines. It's from "Pie," a story that's gotten mountains of feedback. First Prize in Gemini Magazine's Flash Fiction Contest, a commendation from the UK's Aesthetica Magazine.

Here are the first 100 wordsOh, and it's one of 14 stories from my award-winning story collection "The Meaning Of Children." Kindle version now on sale for $0.99 (they told me not to but I've done it!)

Some folks say your hands can tell the story of your life. Well, my hands cain't talk, but they've made so many pies, I bet they could do it themselves if you cut 'em off and gave 'em the right ingredients, I sure do.

'Course, I ain't made pie in going on forty years now. But for me, pie's like ridin' a bike: it's something I'll never forget.

It's the crust ever'one frets on. You got to measure out two cups of flour exactly, and a teaspoon salt. Eamon liked to tease me about this. He'd say, "Been making pie long?"

And I'd go, "My whole life entire."

And he'd say, "And you still measuring?"

There's things I did by feel. Mothering, for instance. Baking, I measured

* April 18, 2012

likes this


Where eagles (NOT EGOs) fly, Don (Greywolf) Ford Native American Storyteller

Death & Taxes* by Don Ford

It is a shock to be sure, when you suddenly find yourself clutching at your chest. You

saw some early warning signs and shrugged them off. The stress, the physical work, the lack of sleep, and the poor fast food eating habits have caused you to reach a breaking


Your body puts its foot down: "stop now before it's too late." And standing there in the

doorway, knocking, is an ominous figure. This person stands with threshing instrument

in one hand and an hour glass in the other. All you can think is: 'don't answer the door.'

*Thirteen stand alone poetry and prose pieces. Topics like Suicide and Bullying are included. More than half are true and the others are made up and true to life.

Where eagles fly,

Don (Greywolf)

Native American Storyteller

* April 18, 2012

likes this


Bestselling author of SINCE TOMORROW, a novel of post-apocalypse Vancouver


A Kindle book available from Amazon

Main character: Frost

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic setting an old man and his followers struggle to survive.

"They stopped - the three wagons and their drivers, the guards, the four dogs - at the cusp of the bridge. Already the noise of the market reached them. Shouts. Shrieking. The workhorse that was harnessed to the lead wagon turned its head and looked back at the driver. Noor said to it "No, we're goin'. You know damn well we're goin'." She set her mouth and twitched the reins and gripped the handbrake. They started down the long slope of Frost's Bridge."

* April 19, 2012

,andlike this


Award Finalist & Bestselling Author: Book Coach and Developmental Editor to Aspiring & Seasoned Writers

She stared at the bodies' win'ing with carnal indulgence in the carnival-like atmosphere as music blared from the huge speakers. The gyrations and the beat of the music caused a sudden throb beneath the pale azure and white charmeuse skirt she wore for the special occasion.

"Anneliese, the music, it tugs at your toes doesn't it?"

Her feet stopped tapping as blood rushed to her face. She broke into a quick smile hoping her grandfather didn't notice her gawking at the dancers. He referred to her as Anneliese ever since--
Full Post

No comments:

Post a Comment