This is Me… *sets mental issue in the light*

Tags

forgiveness, little things, panic, triumph, victory

I had something in mind for this post, but staying true to my pantser nature, I am setting that aside to share with you my triumph.

*cue trumpets*

Now, don’t get excited. It’s a little thing. But for me… today? My victory meant everything.

Today went completely out of whack, deviating from the norm, off the tracks.

The trouble began last night, when I stayed up until 3am whipping a short story into submission.

Or it whipped me… possibly. I refused to go to bed until I had revised the unruly mess, which meant adding in a bunch of stuff and deleting and rewriting the entire ending. And I did! And later when I read through it, we’ll discover what my middle of the night brain actually came up with…

But that isn’t my triumph.

This morning I got up to take the kids to school and was well… TIRED. So when I got home, I went back to sleep.

IT WAS A GOOD DESCISION! I feel much better. However, I got out of bed at 10:30… breakfast should have been eaten, the workout would have been practically over… I would be ready to move on to say… this blog, or the other blog post I need to do for The Midnight Society, or rereading said story.

Cue the moment Kathy crumbles.

When I panic. When I completely lose my mind and give up on anything and everything. When things don’t go as planned, I have problems functioning. I turn to food, a whole other issue I’ll save for later.

For even though I like to think of myself as a go-with-the-flow type of person, and mostly I am, when it comes to my routine… I like my rut.

If this would have happened a week ago, I would have sat my butt on the couch and done the blogs, I would have probably had a few bowls of cereal. I would not have worked out. I would not have taken a shower.

And later in the day I would have cried. I would have looked at myself in the mirror and called myself lazy and not good enough.

I punish myself when I don’t do what I think I should. This happens a lot. I am not proud of this part of me.

However, today I didn’t. I ate breakfast and then did my workout. I took a shower. I ate lunch, which included a vegetable. I did not stress over the blogs. They will get done. My story? *checks files* It’s still there.

This is my victory. My triumph. I didn’t let my panic force me into a dark hole. I didn’t let the fact that I deviated from the plan bring me down.

I set my issue in the sun for all to see. I can only defeat the terrible thoughts if I acknowledge their ever-looming presence.

Life isn’t about what I should do, but what I want to do… what I need to make me the best me ever. Living is about forgiving myself when I walk a different path than what I had initially planned.

What battles have you fought and won lately?

The Power of Little

Tags

balance, content, helping, laughing, little things, power, smiles

Life is full of little moments.

They’re hard to see sometimes, but they’re there. Always moving us forward through our existence, letting us hold onto hope that we can make our lives what we want them to be.

Encouraging words… a smile… laughter.

 

Little things. Except they can make all the difference.

All weekend, I marveled at my contentedness, and not because of this.

Because of little things. Things that have happened. Things that will happen. The numerous things I’ve accomplished and the multitude of what is to come.

The balance I have been trying to find, the way to be a writer, mom, wife, and me comes from being happy… from just being. What gives us that?

The little things.

Laughing with my kids.

Watching track meets and ball games.

Making a friend, who was battling self-doubt, smile.

Sharing encouraging words with writers.

Helping the hubs with projects.

Reading a book.

Watching a movie.

Finding joy in a funny tweet.

Feeding dandelions to the tortoises.

Chocolate.

Search for all the things in your life that make you smile.

Little is powerful. Like tiny glowing lights. If you bring them all together they grow, giving you power.

I salute you, everyone out there living in Monday. Find the little smiles. Share them.

 

 

 

 

Critiques, Revisions, and Edits… *brain explodes*

Tags

#nestpitch, critiqing, editing, inspire, revising, short stories, writing

I am a people pleaser. I want people to like me.

So when I receive critiques, I immediately want to go forth and change everything so everyone will like my words! And that causes major frustration.

Why? Because it’s not only impossible, but VERY VERY WRONG!

Last weekend I went through four rounds of edits for my short literary horror story PERFECTION, which will be published in DIN, New Mexico State University’s online magazine. Every time I got notes, I immediately went to CHANGE EVERYTHING TO JUST WHAT SHE SAID.

Punctuation. Yes.

Moving that sentence there, or a paragraph there… no problem. It sounds better that way.

Then there are word choices… sentence structure… adding more inner character thoughts. And as I held my finger over the delete key, I paused. Alarms went off in my head.

WAIT! That’s not how I want it to read. But she doesn’t like how it is… I HAVE to change it, don’t I? Is my story turning into something I don’t want it to be?

DING. DING. DING. Give me a prize!

MY STORY!

In the end, I get to choose. So I read her thoughts and had to decide how I wanted my story to go. And sometimes out of the process, I wrote an even better sentence or added another layer, not quite what my editor suggested, but something from out of my brain, something inspired by the story and what I wanted the story to be.

Editors and critique partners aren’t there to rewrite your words, but to push you to dig deeper… TO INSPIRE YOUR WORDS!

Yesterday I went to my writers’ group meeting with the fabulous Summit City Scribes of Fort Wayne, Indiana. And I read my newest short story, a gothic-ish horror called COUNTDOWN. And I had a lot of feedback that my brain is still processing.

I have a decision. What do I want my story to be? Only when I know, can take all the comments and make my story better. (Which I need to do NOW, because submission deadline is Saturday. Yeah. No pressure.)

This is a perfect lesson for me right at this moment. I am waiting (waiting is HARD!) for notes from my editor on my soon to be published book. When that e-mail arrives, hopefully soon (EEEK! *crosses fingers*) I might suffer a heart attack, a slight moment of panic… utter terror!!!!!!

Until I remember that everything she suggests… are suggestions, comments meant to inspire me to make the story flow and make the characters shine. After having tried to make the ms better by myself, I now have a partner, someone who wants my story to be the best it can be, but still wants it to be MY STORY!

So as I critique the words of the #nestpitch members of #TeamEggsellent and send out a few critiques to #nestpitchers who didn’t make it to the final round, I make comments in the spirit of inspiring them to make their stories shine, to add something that maybe they hadn’t thought of. And if they don’t like any of my comments… no big deal. It’s their story.

Let’s celebrate our stories and what makes them ours. Writing is hard. Critique partners and editors, who love helping fellow writers on their journey, should lift us up, make us excited about our words.

We write because we love it, because we can’t do anything else.

And we deserve cookies.

Words… Words Will Keep Us Together

Tags

#nestpitch, characters, critiquing, ideas, jobs, non-writers, querying, Twitter, writing

As I am on this writing journey, odd thoughts and revelations strike.

While out to dinner with our neighbors, they asked how my writing was going, so I shared and she looked at me and said…

“Whoa, writing is a lot of work. It’s like a job.”

Ummm…

Once again, I am hit over the head with the fact that people who don’t write honestly have no idea what writers do.

Heck, when I began writing, I had NO IDEA what I was getting into. I will sit here on my couch and write words and then…

Over the years I have learned SO MUCH! Sure, I sit on my couch and write my words. Stories. Novels. All the strange things that lurk in my brain.

But also… blogs and book reviews.

I found critique partners and discovered yet another element of the job, reading other people’s words, making comments on what works and what doesn’t, finding little mistakes that the author missed, because we can’t see our own story for the words (or something crazy like that). And even though critiquing was scary at first and I had nothing helpful to add, it has now become one of my favorite things!

Reading! Reading books is part of the job. I know, that’s a rough one. Please, please don’t make me read that really awesome looking book…

What non-writers really don’t understand is the voices. The non-stop talking that occurs 24-7 in our heads. Ideas for new stories strike in the strangest of places. New characters pop up to say hi! Old characters like to yell that we aren’t writing their story correctly or like to change their minds halfway through a manuscript (or even after the whole darn thing is written) and decide that they want something else. Fights do happen.

It’s not just the characters, we have to listen to the stories, waiting to be told what needs to happen. Which sounds easy until they stop speaking.

Writers are always working, always writing. It’s not something we can turn off, and, let’s be honest, we don’t want to turn it off. It is a part of who we are.

But non-writers don’t understand and most of us are surrounded by non-writers on a day to day basis. And even though we like these people, there are times we need to be with other writers. The idea rings true with everyone, the desire to be with people who like what you like, who speak your language.

Since I began this adventure alone, on my couch, never speaking of what I did… I have learned that I can’t live in a cave.

I joined a writers’ group and WHOA! these people GET ME! I need those meetings. And a friend from there recommended that we all get on Twitter… to get our name out into the world, to make friends and connections. So I did.

And OH MY GOLLY GOSH! The writing family on Twitter amazes me. WE NEED EACH OTHER!

We understand the struggles.

From this…

to this.

From this…

to this.

We can celebrate all the victories, whether writing two words on a day where it was hard to get out of bed, to finishing a ms, to getting an agent, to being published!

We help each other spread the word about our books. We read words for everyone, adding our thoughts hoping to help make the ms better. We enter contests and console each other when we aren’t chosen or cheer for those who win.

And speaking of… #nestpitch has announced teams. The lucky few have been chosen. I did not enter. I am a slushie, charged with helping a mentor choose mss based on the first 300 words and a 35 word pitch. Out of about 160 entries, I picked my top 20 and threw them in the ring. Not everyone on my team loved the same ones. And we, #TeamEggsellent, ended up with a well rounded group of five, a couple of which had been on my list! After the final picks and after #Pitchslam announced their lists (which took some out of the #nestpitch running) I went through my original top 20 and stared at the eight that had intrigued me, but hadn’t been chosen. I will be e-mailing those people. I want to let them know that I liked their words, their ideas.

Not that little ole me and my opinions make a big difference, but all I wanted when I entered those contests was a word from someone, anyone.

If you are reading this and are one of the #nestpitchers that wasn’t chosen, I would love to send e-mails to EVERYONE, but realistically, I just can’t. If you don’t get an e-mail from me, remember…

I have my own likes, I have certain things that interest me, such as YA, sci-fi, fantasy, horror, anything odd.

So many of these pitches were fine, just not my cup of tea. Not that I drink tea… ew.

Keep in mind that because it didn’t grab me, doesn’t mean it didn’t raise the brow of another slushie or mentor.

As we move on with all our emotions, turn to your writer friends. They understand! Swap mss with others. But first and foremost, keep writing. Keep querying. I never made it to the final round of any contest I entered, but a query got me a publisher.

So writers everywhere…

UNITE!

Yes! Like the AVENGERS we can save the world!

Together we are strong. Together we can do anything. I am SO GLAD I came out of my cave and into the light of friends.

 

Comfortable Shorts

Tags

a new path, fear, getting out of a rut, procrastination, short stories, writing

I find myself finished with my movie series and wondering what to blog about. *stares at screen*

However, one subject has invaded my mind.

Short stories.

These marvelous little bits of fiction have taken over my life. Invaded my brain. Become a comfy place to live.

Ten years ago when I began to learn about how to get published… the idea of publishing a short story was introduced to my head. I found a short story competition that called for UP TO 2000 words. BUT I CAN’T WRITE ANYTHING SHORT ARE YOU NUTS?

But I did. And it taught me that every word is important in the telling of the story, that extra phrases bog down the tale. Strong writing isn’t full of words, it pulses with images and emotion.

And I began my journey to being a short story writer.

After two years of rewriting two manuscripts, I wanted a break. Last October I wrote all sorts of flash fiction, my first attempt at anything under 500 words. And had a blast! And realized that I really liked (and was capable) of writing horror.

I wrote WEAKNESS for The Pen and Muse blog. Last November I wrote four stories for the ProjectREUTSway competition, one of which will appear in their upcoming anthology and the other three will appear on their blog sometime this spring and summer. Last March, my short fiction piece CLICK was featured by Julie Hutchings on her blog DeadlyEverAfter.

I just kept going. I’M ON A ROOOOLLLLLLLL!

Every time I discovered a call for short story submissions, I thought I CAN DO THAT!

I submitted three others, two of which have been accepted. The third, I decided to sub elsewhere too, just because it’s been a few months. And I have two more (a frozen fairy tale fantasy and a madness, creepy horror) I am working on to submit this month and next.

Whoa… so upcoming… two stories in two different anthologies and another in an online literary magazine. Three more on a blog. And we’ll have to be patient and wait for news of the other three.

I LOVE THIS!

But… am I using short stories as an excuse not to write the thing I should be?

Yup. I do believe so. But in my defense, I am pretty darn good at the shorts. And they are helping to get my name out there. At least my procrastinating was somewhat… good. Right?

We all know, once Kathy is comfy, she is less likely to move.

Shorts are comfy. I know them. But after these two stories, I’m throwing my shorts away. For a while anyway. I do have edits for DOORS that will eventually appear in my in-box. And the sequel waits, forever forming in my brain.

I will crawl out of my rut, even though it is a REALLY nice rut, and try to forge my way through something new.

NOT SOMETHING NEW?!?!?!?!

We all have to do it. What kind of life would we have if we never set foot on a different path? What kind of people would we be if we never accepted a challenge?

I don’t want to know.

So go forth! Try something new!

BE THE BEST YOU EVER!

Rediscovering Childhood Joy… Part 8 “The Last Starfighter”

Tags

80's movies, childhood memories, movie, opportunities, sci-fi, The Last Starfighter

I have reached the final post of my trip down movie-memory lane, of my endeavor to share all these fabulous tales with you.

Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.

Again, a movie I watched so many times, I lost count, heck I never started counting.

The Last Starfighter directed by Nick Castle and released in 1984.

Meet Alex Rogan. He dreams of going to college to escape life in a nowhere trailer park where he lives with his mom and little brother Louis.

And his girlfriend Maggie lives with her Granny in the same park.

When Alex’s mom announces that he didn’t get the money he needs to go to school, he is upset. He’ll be stuck going to the local community college and trapped in he trailer park, forever jumping when anyone needs anything fixed or moved.

Maggie wants to know what’s so bad about staying there. Alex wants more. So he goes to his usual place to cool off… escape. Up at the park’s office is a video game.

One Alex plays pretty well.

Okay. REALLY WELL.

He breaks the high score!

And the trailer park crowd goes wild! Seriously, this is the highlight of their week.

But this is no mere video game. A stranger appears in a very unique car and takes a confused Alex for a ride to explain why he’s there.

Centauri. Quite a smooth talker.

The Starfighter game is a test. And Alex has passed. The game’s story is true. The Frontier must be defended against Xur and the Ko-Dan armada. If it falls to the enemy, even Earth will be in danger.

As they drive, the car turns into a spaceship. Welcome to Rylos and the Starfighter Base.

So Alex can train to join the Starfighters to defend the galaxy. He gets a helmet and uniform all the while suffering from shock.

Don’t worry about his family and friends… an android named Beta is posing as him, having transformed to look and sound just like Alex.

Alex joins the group and takes a seat among all sorts of aliens.

And listens to the briefing. The Rylan Star League is at war with Ko-Dan armada, who have the means to get past the Frontier, an array of satellites creating a protective force field. The only option is to attack. The Gunstars are being readied for the fight.

However, the presentation is interrupted by a holographic message from Xur, the enemy’s evil leader.

Who threatens them all. Join him, stand down… or die. I know. A bit cliché.

Well, Alex has had it. He stomps out of the meeting, looking for Centauri, who he is certain will take him home. He’s no warrior. In his search he meets Grig a navigator.

And they find Centauri, who is flabbergasted that Alex doesn’t want to be a Starfighter! And Grig is appalled that poor Alex had not been given a choice. Centauri reluctantly takes Alex home, muttering the whole way about the boy who doesn’t want to be a Starfighter, even though the boy had scored higher than anyone!

Centauri leaves Alex on Earth with a communications device just in case he changes his mind.

Going home, he finds someone who looks just like him in his bed. Beta rubs his eyes and asks why Alex is back. Because… war. Hello. And Beta is slightly relieved… he has not had such a great time dealing with humans, especially Maggie.

They use the device to contact Centauri to take Beta home, but there is a problem. Xur is making plans with Lord Kril. They want ALL Starfighters dead.

The enemy knows about Alex and sends an assassin a Zando-Zan… who really looks like this…

Yeah, cool, isn’t he? Centauri shows up just in time and kills the Zando-Zan, but gets injured in the fight.

Xur has destroyed the Starfighter base and will continue to try to kill Alex, to ensure no one will be able to stop him. Alex is the last Starfighter and the only chance for saving the universe.

But what about his family and friends? No worry, much to Beta’s delight, he will be there to keep the bad guys occupied and the humans safe.

So Alex rides back with Centauri, who dies soon after they land.

Luckily, Grig is still there, alive because he was in a separate part of the base checking on a prototype Gunstar, the last one.

Alex’s training begins.

And Beta has his own problems.

Louis is getting suspicious. And Maggie is confused and upset. When Maggie and Beta come across a Zando-Zan spaceship, which is relaying info to Xur. He convinces Maggie that he isn’t Alex, which involves showing a bit of inner circuitry, and together they plan on taking out the aliens. To save Alex.

They steal Maggie’s friend’s truck and head towards the ship. Maggie jumps to safety as Beta drives the truck into the base, destroying it and himself.

Leaving Maggie hoping Alex is okay.

And he’s not. He’s freaking out. But Grig is positive, they can do it.

With no time to lose, Alex and Grig attack the Ko-Dan armada. Flying and firing, Alex does okay, until the weapons are depleted. The enemy ships approach. So this is the end, right?

No! This is a prototype Gunstar with an untested weapon, Death Blossom. When all the enemy fighters are in range Alex hits the button…

And kerplowie! No more enemy ships.

Slightly upset, Lord Kril orders Xur executed, but the slippery little devil escapes. Their guidance system, hit in battle, fails, sending them crashing into Rylos’ moon.

Alex returns to what is left of the Starfighter base to applause. And Centauri, who wasn’t dead just in a healing stasis.

They need Alex to stay, to help them rebuild. And he wants to! Here’s his chance to be something more than a trailer park fix-it man, but… Maggie. She had been worried about him going away to college, scared that he’d never come back. He always told her he’d return.

So he does.

To a shocked group, who listens to his tale as they stare at the spaceship and his alien friend.

He pulls Maggie aside. Begging her to come with him. They could have a life together. He has to return, for he has found where he belongs, what he is meant to do. But she’s scared. Leave home? Her Granny? Leave everything she knows?

No. She can’t go.

Disappointed, he accepts her answer, tells his mom and Louis good-bye, and heads back to the ship.

But Maggie isn’t happy, watching him ride the platform up to the ship. Finally her Granny tells her to go, to live her life and be happy… and maybe call or whatever they do up there every once in a while.

She runs at the ship, calling and waving.

She has to go, her place is with him.

And together they fly up into the stars.

And Louis races to start playing the Starfighter game.

Is the story all that? No. It’s simple. Everyone knows what’s going to happen.

So why watch it over and over again? The effects were pretty darn cool… for the time. But more than that… it’s about growing up, finding a place in the universe by stepping away from what is comfortable, from what is easy. We must keep our mind open to all the possibilities and be prepared to just say yes when opportunities arrive.

SAY YES!

And this ends my movie round-up.

And I have been reminded of The Flight of the Navigator and Enemy Mine. I did love those, but didn’t watch them a bajillion times. And there is always TRON!

What is it about stories? They speak to us. They teach us. They take up a part of our brains forever, shaping who we are. Maybe this is why I tell stories. Maybe.

What movies spoke to you as a kid? Or even now? Which ones do you watch over and over again?

 

 

 

 

 

Rediscovering Childhood Joy… Part 7 “Willow”

Tags

80's movies, anything is possible, believe in yourself, childhood joy, faith, fantasy, hope, memories, movies, Val Kilmer, Warwick Davis, Willow

Released in 1988, story by George Lucas and directed by Ron Howard, this movie is one of my all time favorites. It has everything. Humor. Sword fights. A great cast of characters. A fantasy world. A powerful message. And magic.

And it begins with a prophecy. That a child will bring the downfall of the evil Queen Bavmorda, who lives in Nockmaar Castle.

 

So, as all bad guys do, she has her daughter Sorsha and General Kael to round up all the pregnant women and search each child for the mark so she can banish it to the Nether realm where it can’t take her power.

The child is born and ordered to be brought to the queen. But the nurse smuggles the baby out. When the evil army finds her, she sets the baby afloat on a river.

 

Where she is found by two children.

 

And taken in by a Nelwyn (a race of little people) farmer Willow Ufgood and his family, who live in a small village. Willow has his reservations. First of all, she’s a Daikini (a race of big people, as they call them). Second, the next day is a big one. He will go to the festival and try to become the apprentice to the High Aldwin, a sorcerer.

But he does not succeed… he doubts himself. Amidst the fun, dogs from Nockmaar attack and it seems they are looking for a baby.

Fearing for his family, Willow brings the found baby to the council, who decides it’s best to be rid of it.

A small group of Nelwyns set out to give her to her own kind at the Daikini crossroads.

Willow says good-bye to his wife Kiya… promising to be careful and to return.

And the reach the crossroads.

 

Where they meet Madmartigan (Val Kilmer) locked in a cage.

“Give me water, peck, or you die!”

Well, that’s enough for most of the group. They vote to give the baby to him and leave. Willow and his good friend Meegosh aren’t convinced, so they stay overnight. But every Daikini that passes ignores them. The King’s army passes, but refuses to help saying they have to battle Bavmorda’s forces. So Madmartigan makes his plea. Free him, he’ll take the baby. He’ll care for as if she were his own…

He seems like he would take care of her… maybe. They could leave her with him… The idea of going home sounds pretty darn good.

So they set Madmartigan free, give him the baby, and head home. They’ll be heroes! Just as they start celebrating a bird flies over them with a crying baby in its grip. A small voice yells, “I stole the baby!”

And Willow calls, “Hey, that’s my baby!”

They follow the bird and are trapped by the Brownies.

 

And taken to see the fairies and their queen Cherlindrea.

Who gives Willow a mission. The baby Elora Danen is a princess and needs to survive. With the fairy queen’s wand, Willow must find the sorceress Fin Razel and then travel to Tir Asleen where a good king and queen will protect her. So he sends Meegosh home and sets out to save Elora because he loves her.

Two Brownies Franjean and Rool are his guides. I love these guys. I shall put them in my pocket so they can amuse me all day.

 

After traveling for a while and needing to get out of the rain and find some food, they stop at a tavern.

“Beer!”

Where they find Madmartigan. “Not you!” Willow cries.

 

Madmartigan grabs Elora to pretend to be a woman to trick the husband of a woman he had been sleeping with. Bavmorda’s daughter Sorsha shows up with the guard searching for the baby… chaos follows. Willow, the Brownies, Madmartigan with Elora in tow take off in a horse-pulled wagon.

Chasing. Fighting. But they get away. Madmartigan agrees to go with them to find the sorceress. They arrive at the island where she has been trapped… Madmartigan waves good-bye. But we all know he’s starting to care. Yup.

Willow finds Razel… but she’s not very intimidating.

“Bavmorda transformed me.”

She’ll need a bit of magical help to get back to true form, and it’s up to Willow, who admits that he’s not quite a sorcerer. Oh dear.

But that’s the least of their problems, for here comes Sorsha and the guards with Madmartigan in chains. Captured, they will be taken to Bavmorda. The Brownies left behind. Madmartigan meets Fin Razel, which doesn’t thrill him. And finds a new hatred for Sorsha.

The fuzzy sorceress tries to teach Willow magic as they travel so he can transform her, which he tries as they sit in a cage when the army sets up camp.

 

Unfortunately, he changes her into a bird. But the Brownies arrive to pick the lock and set them free!

 

However, Madmartigan gets hit with the fairy dust of broken hearts, which puts him in a daze. They sneak into Sorsha’s tent to steal Elora back, but the dust causes Madmartigan to fall in love with Sorsha.

 

Which confuses, but possibly excites her. Madmatigan, having proclaimed himself a great swordsman, gets his hands on a sword and they fight their way free.

 

Grabbing Sorsha as a hostage, they head out on horseback to Tir Asleen.

 

The fairy dust spell wears off, but maybe Madmartigan and Sorsha are attracted to each other…

On the way, Sorsha escapes, and the rest arrive at Tir Asleen only to find the place under Bavmorda’s spell. Madmartigan finds an armory and starts fortifying the castle and himself.

 

Willow tries magic again to transform Razel, who ends up as a goat. But there’s no time to worry about that, Bavmorda’s troops are on the way. In trying to help with preparations, Willow runs into trolls.

 

He uses the wand, transforming one troll into… well, ew and kicks it into the water where it grows into a monster, adding another element of fun to the fight.

Trolls…

 

A two headed beast…

 

and Bavmorda’s army lead by General Kael…

 

There is a very funny scene where Madmartigan does his war cry as the monster erupts from the water behind him. The bad guys run away. Madmartigan thinks he’s awesome until he notices the thing behind him and flees, ending up in the midst of the evil army.

 

Anyway! To fighting!

 

The Brownies return with help… the King’s army we met before! Madmartigan fights everyone, protecting Willow and Elora, rushing to his friend’s rescue when the soldiers attack, and kills the beast.

 

All the while, Sorsha watches. Intrigued by his willingness to fight for love instead of for approval like she has done, trying to make her evil mother love her.

 

Madmartigan falls to the ground finding Sorsha’s blade pointed at him, yet in a swift move she pulls him to his feet and…

 

Oh dear. Kissing. And she joins the crew, who wouldn’t? Bleeding, Willow stumbles out crying for Elora, for General Kael has taken the baby. They don’t give up, riding to Nockmaar Castle, with their new army.

 

Bavmorda is preparing for the ritual to banish Elora, when the army arrives. She is not impressed and turns them into pigs.

Razel (the goat) and Willow use the wand to protect themselves from the spell. But now… NOW is the time for Willow to change her back… it takes a lot of effort…

She changes from one animal to another, but eventually he succeeds! And together they return their friends to human. And form a plan.

The next morning, Razel and Willow stand at the gate.

Busy with her spell…

Bavmorda sends Kael and her forces to kill them.

But the King’s army isn’t gone, just hidden in large holes under the tents. As soon as the gate is open, they attack, driving their way into the castle. Madmartigan, Sorsha, Willow, and Razel race to save Elora.

Sorsha pleads with her mother, who throws her daughter across the room.

While Razel and Bavmorda have an epic sorceress dual, Madmartigan kills Kael in a bloody battle.

Willow sneaks into the room to take Elora as Razel falls. Bavmorda turns to him, unafraid and unimpressed as he declares himself to be a great sorcerer. Using slight of hand, he makes the queen believe he has sent Elora to a dimension where evil can’t touch her. Shocked, Bavmorda stumbles into her own spell and is destroyed in a swirl of red smoke.

Razel crawls from the rubble, pleased when Willow pulls Elora from her hiding spot.

Madmartigan and Sorsha go to Tir Alseen, now released from Bavmorda’s spell, to stay and look after Elora. Willow says good-bye and prepares to go home.

Where he is welcomed as a hero.

And as the sweeping score plays, beautiful music by James Horner, I sigh.

Evil has been defeated. In all honesty, it always beats itself, doesn’t it? If Bavmorda hadn’t been so bent on that prophecy… if she hadn’t been so focused on Elora… who knows?

But it isn’t about her. It’s about Willow. A Nelwyn farmer who dreamed of being something else. It took a great journey to show him who he truly is. For all we need is to believe in ourselves.

As the High Aldwin says… “Power to control the universe is in which finger?”

YOURS.

 

 

Nestpitching… Oh the Words!

Tags

#nestpitch, contests, thoughts, writing

Hello! I’m back! Did you miss me?

*waits* *everyone discusses whether I had been gone or not*

Anyway. I want to talk about #nestpitch a contest for writers who are seeking agents. Submissions happened last week. When I returned from vacation (which was fabulous, by the way, thanks for asking), the slush reading had already begun! So I jumped in, trying to figure out where to go to read and what to do when I find one I like. Pretty much hanging on by my little toes, hoping I wouldn’t let my team (#TeamEggselent) down!

I am a slushie in the middle of reading about 160 pitches and first 300 words, searching for ideas that call to me, for characters and description and emotion that draws me in. And I have found quite a few! And have started stalking some of them on Twitter.

But we can only choose so many. This week my team will get our act together and request more pages (I know, some teams have already done that). And do MORE reading to decide on our top four or five. Then critiquing! My favorite.

I have lurked on the other side of these contests as a entrant. I have chewed my fingernails off as I worried about who was reading my words and WOULD ANYONE LIKE THEM? I was never chosen for any contest I entered. Nope. And it did hurt… only A LOT. But I moved on.

Being on this side is odd. I often think of all the people out there waiting for news… a tweet, a hint, ANYTHING. I feel you, my fellow writers!

As I read through all the entries, I can’t help but be struck with one big thought.

THIS IS ALL SO SUBJECTIVE! There’s no formula to use to figure out which ones are the best, which ones will be chosen by an agent. It’s just me and the words.

I have read all of the words. I have picked my top 20. One of my teammates has done the same. Half of my picks match hers and the other half, well, does not. I read all her picks and there is nothing wrong with them. Nothing.

They just don’t speak to me.

And that is the story of a writer’s life.

That simple phrase is why we don’t have an agent or a book deal. Finding the right person or publisher drives us to write, to send out queries, to deal with rejections. It makes us dig through the cupboards for chocolate, doubt every word we type, and, at times, curl up in a corner and weep (not that I have any experience with that… maybe… okay yes).

I keep looking at all the entries. Staring at them. Reading and rereading. Why doesn’t this one pique my interest? There’s nothing wrong with it.

Sometimes the pitch doesn’t do it, but the writing does. Sometimes the pitch captures my attention, and I want more of the writing to see where the story goes. Sometimes it’s the prologue that makes me want more.

I’m a YA girl, and, SHOCKER, most of my picks are YA. I’m a weird, fantasy, horror girl. So the romance and contemporary doesn’t speak to me as much as if there are demons or magic.

That’s okay. This is art. We’re all who we are. We can’t be anything else.

All those rejections I got. Oh well. It wasn’t their thing.

But you roll your eyes… “Easy for you to say! You signed with a fabulous publisher!”

True. But someday my book will be out in the world and some people probably won’t like it, won’t pick it up off the shelf.

And that’s okay.

Because it’s not about the people who don’t like it. It’s about the people who do.

All the nestpitchers out there, if you get page requests or not. Hold your head up high and continue the search for where your words fit. Your ms might have been someone’s favorite, but the team decided to go a different way. I have a few that if they are not chosen, I will probably find the authors and tell them that their ms was in my top picks. Not that it matters, maybe, but I’d want to know.

Through all the trails, all the waiting, all the searching for an agent… remember, you wrote the words for a reason. Out of a need. Out of love. Look for the people who will love it too. They’re out there.