At this time of year everything is about halloween. The shops are all decorated and selling goods and children’s activities are planned in the theme. Even my writing group is embracing the theme.
Two years ago when we first formed, our first activity was to write a halloween short story. We’ve decided to do it again this year.
It’s so difficult to come up with something to write. It can’t be cliché as much of this time of year is. And it obviously has to be different to what was done 2 years ago.
I need to be inspired by the current atmosphere.
Phase one of my editing is complete. Now it’s on to the second phase.
Phase one entailed the editor going through and making adjustments and suggestions and then I went through all those and chose whether to make the changes or not.
It’s enlightening to see the suggestions made. Certain things seem obvious now but when I read through them it seemed ok.
After the next read through is done and everything is as polished as possible I’m going to try resubmit to the only people who were interested in my work and hopefully now it will be up to their standards.
I am taking the next step in my book’s life. Today editing starts on my book by a professional editor.
I have been in touch with an editor who comes well recommended by other authors I know, Sinead Fitzgibbon.
She has spoken at my writing group and helped others in the group with their work.
I look forward to this next step. I feel like I’m getting closer to self publishing.
I have been through it myself countless times, and change something every time. But I don’t know if what I’m doing is right. This will be a good learning experience for me.
A while ago I was asked to write a blog post about an author event that happened at a library I work at. The author was Rowan Coleman talking about her book “The Memory Book.” The blog never got created in the end so my post didn’t go up. But I was thinking about the main theme of my post: memories.
As a psych student I know all about the technical side of memories: how they are processed, stored, and retrieved. But there’s more to memories than the brain activities.
Memories are a person’s entire life. They are an important part of what makes up a person. J.K. Rowling mentioned memories very often and relied heavily on the ability to view other people’s memories in the Pensieve – the sixth book was mostly made up of viewing memories. She understood the importance of the memories. It was this simple act of learning about Tom Riddles’ past that allowed Harry to destroy him.
But what about in non-magical (muggle 🙂 ) worlds? Are memories simply something in a person’s mind and then lost forever when they are? No, of course not. We create our own Pensieves: in journals and photos, art and books, social media and blogs. All these things that we spend our lives documenting are safe and we can look back at, at any time.
So keep writing, capturing, and saving moments.
Writers Write daily prompt
These are the words of a trouble mind. The troubled mind of a student. Why am I troubled? Well, other than the fact that I’m a student worrying about exams and grades, and that the longer I’m a student the more debts I gather, and the fact that I need to study for several years to qualify for my dream career, and, oh yes, once I am actually qualified, the chances of actually getting a job I want – a good job that will pay off my years of accumulated debt – become slimmer as the years pass.
Besides all that?
I’m troubled by the fact that a magic book appeared to me out of thin air.
The light filters through the trees in a green hue. The ground is uneven but a clear path is cut through the wildlife.
There’s a rustling to the left and a squirrel pops up out of the shrubs on the side. It darts across the path and scuttles up the tree on the other side. It pauses at the top and peers down at the strange beings walking through the forest: humans.
The humans are students taking a break from the demands of busy lives. The four students make their way across the forest, commenting on the beautiful flowers and occasional squirrel they find. The boys hold back some low hanging branches for the girls.
“Even the air out here is different, cleaner,” whispers the one girl, grimacing thinking of the crowded city she calls home.
A gentle rushing of water silences any more conversation.
“I wish we could stay here,” sighs the other girl as they cross the little wooden bridge over the stream.
As if breaking the spell, these words bring the rest of civilisation into view. They emerge from the forest and make their way to the buildings that house all the smart academics.
On the bright side, thought the second girl, at least the main building looks like a castle.
This piece had originally been a writing prompt exercise that I did ages ago. I don’t remember which words were the prompt though. I was so happy with this piece that I made it fit into my book.
As she looked out at the predawn darkness, she mused about her life. The darkness of the night used to frighten her and force her to relive all the sorrows of her past. But not now. No, last night she had been as far from her past as the sun was to the moon. Sunrise no longer meant relief that she had survived through the horrors of the night. It meant that she had faced them and overcome them. As his arms tightened around her, the happiness and effervescence bubbled inside her from the love she felt. He had appeared in her life so suddenly and yet he fit in perfectly. They were each others’ equal match. This was her bliss: staring at the sunrise through the dewdrop-covered twigs of the nest, wrapped in his warm embrace. She knew she could face anything with him at her side.
The rest of my book can be read on Wattpad.
I’m now up to chapter 20 of my book both editing and posting.
It’s been good to edit properly again.
However, I haven’t had the response to my book that I was hoping for. I had hoped for a bigger readership. Hopefully it will improve after I’ve put everything up.
I’m happy with my cover now. I like it. I don’t know if others would like it, but I do.
Here it is anyway: http://www.wattpad.com/myworks/26815850-air-fay
Something wasn’t quite working for me with the cover I had made for my book.
I kept the basics of it but added more to it. I think the wings on their own were a good reference for myself but it’s catchier with the sihouette. At least in my opinion.
My book is being posted on Wattpad. I’ve posted more or less half of it up so far:
Pippa jumped at the sound, looking around. There was no one in sight. Looking around more closely, she edged closer and spotted a book lying on the floor. Frowning, she contemplated it. Falling books were not uncommon in a library. Pippa had worked in the library on and off for many years, starting as a teenager and as she moved on into university. The falling book was not what puzzled her. She was confused by where it fell from.
The book was lying in the middle of the library floor, with the closest shelf several feet away. The book could not have fallen off the shelf and landed there of its own accord. The only way it could have landed that distance away was if someone had thrown or pushed it.
As she got closer to the book, she saw the cover. She didn’t recognised it. Of course, Pippa didn’t know every single book in the library, but there was something about this one that didn’t look familiar.
As Pippa bent down and picked up the book, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge and a shiver went down her spine. Perplexed, she gingerly looked at the book. The title was written in elegant, black script. The picture on the front was of shelves receding into the distance, and the edges of the pages were gold. Looking at the spine, Pippa’s eye grew big as coins and she sucked in a breath. The dewey number was 1020.
Pippa gulped and rushed over to the computer. She had to be sure. She quickly opened Google, and typed in ‘dewey decimal system’. The results popped up in seconds and she chose the Wikipedia link. Scrolling down to the actual number categories she scanned the list and as she got to the end at the 900, she yelped.
1020 did not exist, just as she had thought. What is this book? Where did it come from?