WAG #20 "Like a Virgin"

It's good to talk 'big'. It builds up your spirit, increases your drive, strengthens your heart.

The unfortunate consequence is if you talk 'big' to yourself too convincingly, the tumble back to reality just hurts that much more.

When it comes to talking big, no one is supposed to be better at it than a new writer sending out her first query, an experience I just 'enjoyed' starting on Wednesday when I shot off a couple of emails for my contemporary romance The High Bridge.

It was an interesting experience, writing that letter. I've been playing with my hook and my mini synopsis for several weeks and thought I had it down to a pretty eye-catching couple of sentences. But then came the dreaded "Why Are You The Best, Most Qualified Person To Write This Book?" paragraph at the end.



I put it down as best I could, although I suspect it came across sounding a little "You're not good enough to write this book, so I have to do it myself" kind of attitude. If you want a romance story that involves back-country travel of abandoned railway right-of-ways through bear/mountain lion country, I'm your girl! Do you think Jackie Collins is going to know that the old Willys jeep is really pronounced "WILL ISS"? No! Will Nora Roberts know much about falling off a dirt bike when lightning strikes a nearby tree? N--- well, maybe, with some research.

The point is I know a lot about what I write for a novel. I don't know a lot about making ME sound like the only person qualified to do so.

You only have to make love once to no longer be a virgin. I've already received word (the dreaded "Dear Author" letter) that I'm no longer a virgin to the agency rejection system. I just don't want to be a rejection slut.

Time to rewrite the query letter, methinks. Need to learn a new way to talk 'big'.

WAG #20: The First Time” Everything we’ve ever done had a ‘first time’. Think of an activity (either of your own or something you observe of someone else) and write about the first time of that experience, and perhaps even compare it to subsequent experiences. Maybe even pick a moment that might have looked mundane from the outside, but made a significant change to the person experiencing it. Not a lot of rules, as usual… just let your imagination flow! www.indiadrummond.com


WAG #19 Pick a Pocket

WAG #19: Pick a Pocket” Let’s do some people-watching for this one! Pick someone out of a crowd and describe what (you imagine) is in their pockets (Unless you want to be brave and ask them!) Give us both meaning and physical details, and don’t forget to let yourself be surprised. (This week’s topic inspired by WAG founder India Drummond's son Bear.)

I hate waiting for freight trains.

There are a lot of grade crossings where I live in Colorado. The beef can't walk to market, after all, and the various ores from the mountains aren't transported by 20-mule teams. Trains are ubiquitous. And necessary.

The drivers in Colorado seem more patient than those I saw (and was) when I lived in Illinois. Maybe because the scenery is better or the sky bluer; I don't know why. In Colorado, people wait quietly for trains or traffic lights or other delays.

In Illinois it was an insult to a driver to be stopped for any reason besides a twenty car pile up, and I can recall once getting stopped by the Indiana Harbor Belt and sitting in the same spot for what seemed an eternity. I glared around at my fellow travelers, accusing them of plotting to be in my way and preventing me from making a U-turn.

As I glanced around, my eyes fell on a little old man, standing in front of the pharmacy I was halted by. He had a knowing little smile on his face as he rocked back and forth, from heels to toes - forward and back, forward and back. This caused his hips to swing to and fro, forward and back. His twinkling eyes found mine and his little smile broadened.

I'm certain I turned fifteen shades darker of crimson because of what I noticed. Very near the fly of his light-colored trousers was a hard bulge that tightened whenever his hips swung forward. He slipped his hand deep into his pocket and his smile grew even wider.

"Grampa!" came a childish yell, accompanied by little shoes tapping on the sidewalk.

The old man gave a glad cry and pulled a round lollipop from his pocket for a little girl.


See What Happens When You Slow Down?

I just found out that a writing conference coming up in July isn't $125 per day; it's $125 for the whole THREE days! That changes things quite a bit! I wasn't going to go because I'd have to sell both kidneys to afford it, but since I need only sell ONE kidney, it might be do-able.

Speaking of writing conferences, I'm going to AWP this weekend. Poor old David is gonna have to take care of himself. Pizza and beer and the bachelor life for him. He'll probably spend the entire weekend watching war movies on TV.


Well THAT didn't go so well...

Okay, so I was supposed to do a monthly "resolutions" list, but I didn't fare so well.

Hmmm. Go figger.

I do need to keep writing, however. Apart from the fact that I enjoy it immensely, it's just something I SHOULD do, even when I'm not in the mood. Or uninspired. Or completely positive that no one is reading.

Well... enough whining; get on with it.