QuickJAB

New! The Girl Who Saw Clouds

The Girl Who Saw Clouds is a story of conspiracy, family, and survival.  The novel is available NOW on Amazon in both ebook and paperback.

Link to The Girl Who Saw Clouds on Amazon

Girl Who Saw Clouds Cover 5.5x 8.5 June 1 2018 ebook cover.png

AIMEE LOUISE is a bright, quirky 14-year-old with autism who doesn’t recognize facial expressions, but instead sees clouds that reveal a person’s true intentions. After a cyber-attack takes down the nation’s electrical grid, can her ability to see danger where no one else does expose the secret plot to take over the U.S.?

QuickJAB

How Writing Is Like Making Jam

When I make jam, I pull out the Ball Blue Book of canning and check the recipe even though I’ve made jam dozens of time over the last several years. I crush the berries, dump in the sugar, turn up the gas, and stir. And stir and stir. I don’t use pectin to thicken the concoction, and I don’t have a jelly thermometer. I stir and after 30 or 45 minutes, it feels done. If I quit too early, I have berry soup. If I stir another two minutes, I have berry concrete. It’s all in the timing, and it all comes together—boom!

So this is my Writing blog, not my Farm blog, right?

I wrote a story on January 6, 2017. The story was 727 words. I added a few more words, and the name of my story became Novel Needs a Name. N3 became The Girl Who Saw Clouds last summer.  I have a total of 106 versions of Clouds. Different people have read different versions over the past year. One faithful reader has seen every single one! We’ll refer to her as Saint Rabbit. Writers have critiqued different sections, and I wrote and revised.

I read Don McNair’s Editor-Proof Your Writing and followed his twenty-one steps. Clouds was ready for a copy editor. Not too soon, not too late. Now I have to leave Clouds alone and let the copy editor do his work; otherwise, I’d have Cloud concrete, right?

Yesterday I read Guido Henkel’s Zen of eBook Formatting and made blackberry jam. Today I designed the book cover.  Only twenty more days before the copy editor’s work is due. Maybe I’ll make some more blackberry jam. Boom.

 

 

QuickJAB

Confessions of a Story-Teller

I was born a story-teller. The story words bubbled up inside me and strained to escape. They detoured my brain and flew straight to my mouth or my typing fingers. For years while my words and I struggled to survive in the corporate world, we were feared and labeled frivolous and irrelevant. Wordy, even. My brain suggested I was not a story-teller, and I turned to conforming by slaughtering words. Dark times. I popped the action, sights, sounds, tastes, feels, and detail bubbles. Even when words bolted through the typing exit, very few survived.

My story words and I abandoned the corporate world for the world of fiction. My empowered stories shoot from my typing fingers, leaving room inside for new words to incubate and grow in my brain. First Draft. Second Draft. The only slaughter is Killing the Darlings, but that’s another story.