The Purple Calla Lilly

It’s About That Time…Again.

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Wed, 07 Dec 2016 23:37:00 +0000

October 06, 2016 / Amy Boukair

In a few precious weeks, the writer’s biggest dream/nightmare will be upon us – NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). The goal of which is to write a complete novel within the confines of the month of November. You can even attempt to finish a Work In Progress if you have one already going.

I have unsuccessfully attempted this feat with several of my novels – Ghosting, Indigo, and Shade. Ghosting is still stalled and sitting on the back burner, Indigo is finished and out in the world, but Shade has been scratching at the back of my mind for months now. I can tell a burst of the story is about to come out, but with NaNoWriMo, there’s an inherent pressure to push yourself to meet the insane timeline. Some people thrive on that initiative, but I often struggle with it.

I’ve always been a moody writer, not able to put a word to paper unless I was intensely inclined or inspired. This would typically put me in the category of hobbyist, and not a true writer, but I’m determined to break out of that box. Another novel under my belt would catapult me (in my mind) into the fully fledged upper echelon of real writers.

I know I want to get a sequel to Indigo out. I have a ton of ideas for that series rattling around my head. And even Shade has a long series possibility.

It will be done eventually. Of that I’m sure.
Can I at least finish Shade?
And will it be done by the end of November?

Stay tuned…

Show Me

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:57:00 +0000

October 04, 2016 / Amy Boukair

Don’t tell me how much money you make; show me how you value the people in your life.

I’m not interested in the books you’ve read, show me what you’ve learned in your time here on earth.

I’m not concerned with discussing your politics; show me your concern for the welfare of all mankind – friend or stranger.

I don’t care what music you listen to; show me what moves your soul; what sparks your passion.

Don’t preach about your religion; show me your compassion, patience, and kindness in any given difficult circumstance.

Don’t brag about your accomplishments; show me how you’ve changed not even THE world, but A world – even if in a very small way.

I don’t care if you can’t dance or sing, run a business, build a bridge, or climb a mountain; show me all of your vulnerabilities, your weaknesses, your faults.

All of what makes you, you. All of what makes us human.

I’m listening.

I’m watching.

Show me.

Stupid Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:56:00 +0000

September 25, 2016 / Amy Boukair

saving myself
is hard.
doing what’s truly best for me
is near impossible

the heart wants what the heart wants
but the heart is weak
the heart has hope

the heart believes what it wants to believe despite the obvious facts
the heart is stupid

chain it up and throw away the key

stupid heart

I'm Good...

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:55:00 +0000

September 08, 2016 / Amy Boukair

I’m good.

I’m really good.

For real.

And it’s nice.

For a change.

Times recently were when things weren't so good.

Things were black.

Blacker than black.

Darker than dark.

A deep hole with no bottom.

I could picture myself falling through that abyss.

That was beyond scary.

But, no longer.

Chemistry is at work.

Balance has been achieved.

I know my limits now.

I know my threshold of bullshit too.

I now know the border of me and the unacceptable.

I now know what I deserve.

And it's definitely better than I've had.

Better than one that only wants the sanity; can't handle the crazy.

Realize that I'm both and all. At the same time.

I don't depend on anyone else so step off. Step back.

It's up to me.

It always has been; always will be.

Grab on for the ride if you want.

Or I'll leave you behind.

I'm off.

I'm out.

I'm on my way up.

I'm good.

Things are really good.

And it's nice.

For a change.

For a while.

For a long while.

For the rest of my life.

Things will be good.

I know it.

Elude The Raven

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:54:00 +0000

August 07, 2016 / Amy Boukair

she often glimpsed the shadowy feathers behind her
in the corner of her eye.
just barely out of sight,
but always there.
in the back of her mind.
unscrupulous. cunning. patient.
a flutter here or there.
an occasional peck or scratch.
rarely fatal.
but only rarely.
never revealing his true power.
his power to compel her weakened spirit,
to deceive her credulous mind;
to make waste to existing wounds of her heart,
scavenging what few slivers remained.
however,

the raven didn’t recognize she was a phoenix:
continually charred,
but repeatedly restored.

never unphased, but more vigilant.
not undamaged, but fortified.

her own brittle feathers a little more flame resistant.

whatever was necessary to survive.

to wake up just one more day.
to see the light of one more sun.
to take in the wind of one more breath.

only to be burned one more time.

A Poem For Tonight

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:53:00 +0000

October 04, 2015 / Amy Boukair

Miles stretch.

Mind flurries.
Relentless uncertainties.
Thousands of insecurities.
Sentinel engaged again.

Hopes stockpiled for a rare sunny day.
Wishes Deferred.
Wait and see.
Wait and see.

If you don’t expect anything
You Won’t Be Disappointed.

It’s no way to live.

Fortitude tested.
Compassion maxed.
Trying to bend without breaking
and shattering into a million agonizing shards.

Leaves are starting to plunge to the earth.
The world around me is fading.
It’s the natural progression of things.
It’s the way of everything.

Everything.

I Remember

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:51:00 +0000

September 11, 2015 / Amy Boukair

I remember the long and frantic evacuation of Terminal Tower and most other buildings in downtown Cleveland into a crowded and chaotic Public Square. Lots of questions were asked, but no answers were readily available. Little did we know then that just miles above us, the passengers of Flight 93 were revolting against their highjackers and making a brave stand against terrorists on a plane headed to the nation’s capital.

I remember forcing my co-workers to let me drive them to their homes and cars as I didn’t want them on public transportation since we didn’t know exactly what was happening. I still have the ticket stub from the parking garage that day that I never had to pay. It was the easiest I have ever left the downtown area; people yielding, allowing others ahead, waiting patiently for pedestrians to get to their own destinations and escape pods. I remember the fear of hearing powerful jet engines near the airport that we knew were no ordinary passenger planes, and wondering if we too, were under attack.

I remember desperately trying to reach my family via cell phone, and mercifully getting through to tell them I loved them amid the pandemonium and apparent doom.

I remember a lot of shock, fear, and crying.

I remember gas stations jacking up their prices in the uncertainty of events. Trying to find a newspaper the next day was near impossible. The rush on grocery stores forced some to close due to the onslaught of people and demand.

The thing I remember most is the change in the landscape of America that lasted a short time afterward. There was a camaraderie among Americans; a unifying of the country that I don’t think has ever happened before or since. A solidarity of intent and purpose to not be trodden upon by outsiders. We stood as One Nation for the only time I’ve seen in my lifetime. We not only comforted each other in our time of need, but we also supported each other in our effort to get through it. That feeling and time was fleeting but important for us as a country to pull through as strongly as we did.

I would later meet, work with, and become friends with someone who was in the World Trade Center on that horrible day. We basically shut down our office one afternoon to hear her story. She described the terrible events she personally experienced with courage and generally dry eyes, most likely out of necessity and our benefit than anything else. She answered our tentative probing questions with grace and poise; never flinching at our interrogation. Even as she spoke, I couldn’t imagine living the horror that she went through. To this day, she has my utmost respect for carrying on and embracing life as she has since then. I’m honored to call her a friend.

Every year on this date I reflect on the events of 9/11 and how it affected not only me but everyone in America.

On this day of reflection, I hug my son a little tighter. I’m a little more polite to strangers though I should be polite all the time. I’m a little more stoic; a little more introspective; a little more thoughtful.

Many days have passed since with their own burdens and pains, but I will always remember 9/11.

I will never forget.

Why Writing Is Hard.

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:50:00 +0000

June 05, 2015 / Amy Boukair

My writing process in a nutshell:

Write a paragraph.
Internet break.
Rewrite paragraph.
Internet break.
Scour iTunes to find the “perfect” writing music.
Internet break.
Delete paragraph and start over.
Internet break.
Rewrite paragraph again.
Internet break.
Refill coffee.
Internet break.
Rewrite paragraph, yet again.
Internet break.
Consider writing a completely different novel, in an entirely different genre.
Internet break.
Refill coffee.
Consider never writing again.
Internet break.
Write next paragraph.
Internet break.
Repeat.

Le sigh...

The Genre Jumble

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:49:00 +0000

July 25, 2014 / Amy Boukair

I’m beginning to feel Diana Gabaldon’s pain when trying to classify my novel, INDIGO. Is it a romance? Sure – there’s lots of romance in it. Is it science fiction? Yes – it has time travel elements in it, but it’s not too “sciency.” Is it fantasy? Hard to say – time travel could be categorized as fantasy as well. I should note - this is where Diana Gabaldon’s novels end up, though I’d personally be more likely to categorize her as historical romance. It’s a conundrum to say the least.

I’m In A Similar Quandary At The Moment As INDIGO Is Officially In Audiobook Production (Yay!); As I Filled Out The Book’s Vital Information, The Question Of Genre Again Came Up. WHAT IS IT?I Even Put The Question Up To My Facebook Followers, And Received The Following Answers:

Science Fiction
Science Fiction Romance
Definitely Romance
Romance

Weep In The Corner? It’s An Option…

While participating in Ohio Author Day last weekend, I was put on the spot to introduce myself and my book to the local cable access channel – and was fairly gobsmacked to try to pigeonhole the genre of INDIGO. It’s NOT just one genre. It’s in fact several. I stumbled around my usual sound bite, “It’s a romantic suspense novel, with a little bit of time travel thrown in for good measure…” or something similarly nonsensical. What does one say when their book crosses multiple genres?

You see where I’m going with this…the genre ultimately is reader specific. There are main genres, and now there are also a gazillion subgenres. AND, those subgenres can crossover as well. What’s an author to do when their novel doesn’t fit neatly into any single box?

Another option is to look at the novel as objectively as possible; to think like a reader about the overarching theme of the book. In the case of INDIGO, I think I have to sit in the romance box. The overall theme is love, and how far one would go to claim and protect it. Yes, there is the time travel element, but I don’t think it overtakes romance as the main theme, I think it only enhances it.

What else can an author do to resist being genre pigeonholed?

Summertime…And The Writing Is Easy-Ish

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:48:00 +0000

May 30, 2014 / Amy Boukair

Summer is here! Well, at least warmer weather is here. I’m finally able to sit on my patio (my favorite writing spot) and write to my heart’s content. I guess technically I’m a seasonal writer. I just can’t sit in my office, even though there are two fairly bright windows, and be creative. I work from home for my real-life job, so I tend to consider that my “work only” space. But now that the temps are rising, I’m able to go to my creative space and write.

Having a dedicated writing space really helps to get the creative juices flowing for me. I’m sure there are plenty of authors that can be creative anywhere, but I’m certainly not one of them. While I may get idea inspiration from various locales, I need my ‘writing spot’ to put fingers to keyboard in any meaningful sort of way.

Even my writing spot has its own challenges though - my patio rafters have been commandeered by a family of sparrows, including a nest of hungry babies incessantly crying for sustenance; neighbors noisy lawn mowers; a constant flow of planes overhead (I’m near a small teaching airport); and even the house sounds that carry in through the back door of my son listening (and singing) to his music or playing video games. It can be hard to shut out all the noise, and I often resort to wearing headphones and listening to movie scores as I write if I can find one that fits the mood.

It sounds like I’m a temperamental writer, huh? That’s because I am! While I have gotten over having to “be in the mood” to write, I still need to get over the challenge of my creative environment. It can usually be done with minimal effort, but it’s still an effort.

I’m planning to finally finish Ghosting this summer (a paranormal thriller), and am very excited to see where this intriguing story takes me. Indigo was such a fun ride – I can’t wait to feel the accomplishment of typing –THE END – one more time. It’s definitely a feeling that can’t be compared to.

Here’s to a great summer! Let the writing commence!

Top Ten Things I Learned From My Mom

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:47:00 +0000

May 11, 2014 / Amy Boukair

1.      I can do anything I put my mind to, so long as I do the work.
2.      I can be anything I want to be; no dream is too big.
3.      If I don’t expect anything, I won’t be disappointed – but not to give up hope.

4. I am strong willed, and strong minded, but also strong hearted.

5. My life will be hard, but it’s okay for me to be weak sometimes.

On the lighter side:
6.      How to play bridge (she was a Life Master ranked player, and unfortunately I’ve already forgotten how to play).
7.      A love for sports, books, word games and trivia (she encouraged me to try out for Jeopardy!; which I did).
8.      How to gamble and smoke (yea, yea, not the highest compliment).
9.      How not to cook (she was passable at best, and never used a spice other than Mrs. Dash).
10.   How to be a night owl. (I would regularly stay up with her to watch Johnny Carson. For the longest time, I couldn't get to sleep without hearing “Heeeeeeeeeeeeere’s Johnny!” To this day I prefer nocturnal activity to diurnal).

As with all Moms, there was good mixed with bad. It’s part of the human experience. As I get older and nostalgia kicks in, the bad starts to make less of an impression than the good - which is how it should be. Not a Mother’s Day goes by that I don’t miss her terribly.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom

The Ginormous Online Retailer Vs. The Indie Author

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:46:00 +0000

March 14, 2014 / Amy Boukair

Once upon a time there was a Ginormous Online Retailer (“GOR”) who was friendly to independent authors, and encouraged them to sell their books in various mediums through their platform in exchange for a modest commission in return. They even created a separate company to help the independent author publish their books in print so they could hold physical copies of their hard-wrought words in their own hands. It was a land of milk and honey for the independent author; they could sell their books to their readers, and the readers in turn would share their honest opinions about those books for all to see. Other book lovers could see these reviews and decide whether it was worth spending their own money. It was a happy place for an independent author to focus their marketing energy, and see their sales rise as people left reviews of what they thought of the work. Everyone was a winner: GOR, the independent author, the reader, and the shopper.

Over time, GOR grew and grew; buying up bookclub and review sites, and an audiobook site to further the perception that they really were book friendly.

Then all of a sudden - and without the independent author, the reader, or even the shopper knowing - GOR started to erase the reader’s reviews. Hacking and slashing them from the internet forever, despite the cries of the authors and the readers who left the reviews. No matter how many times they tried to discuss the disappearing reviews with GOR, the independent authors were met with a stone wall. “We won't be able to provide further insight or assistance with your request,” was all GOR would say, leaving the independent author bereft and without a solution – and without the lost reviews. They were gone forever, never to be seen again.

-The End-

In all seriousness, what’s the deal GOR? (Amazon for those that haven’t caught on) For a company that at least used to claim to be book and independent author friendly – how does arbitrarily removing customer reviews help anyone? And doesn’t it in fact hurt everyone involved? We independent authors live and die by our reviews – both good and bad. By removing reviews you are hurting our sales, which in turn hurts your own bottom line. Where is the logic in that? I don’t claim to have business acumen at the level of an executive at the “World’s Largest Retailer” but even I know that makes poor business sense.

It is a rare person that buys anything online without reading the reviews first. It is part and parcel of online shopping experience. It is up to the buyer to decide if the reviews have merit, or even the owner of the product – not the platform merely displaying them. Buyers are savvier than you are giving them credit for.

Readers especially rely on reviews of books when deciding what to read next. We are a close-knit community who enjoys sharing our opinions and passing the word on what books we like, and what we don’t. And believe me, if we don’t like something we will advertise it to the world. We are both that savvy, and that fickle. Removing reviews is censorship of the worst kind – it’s a slap in the face to those that actually took the time to not only read a book, but then the time to sit at their keyboard, log onto your site and leave their honest opinion for the world to see.

Apart from trying to directly reach our readers to repost their reviews, there is little we authors can do to combat this. Attempts to deal with Amazon directly have had zero results. There is rumor that the reviews being removed are only those that state they received a book for free in exchange for a review, or that “ARC” is somehow targeted – this is untrue. As far as I can tell the review removals are completely and utterly arbitrary.

If someone out there in cyberworld has had success in having their reviews restored – please contact me and explain your black magic ways. In the meantime, apart from this blog post – I will be trying to directly reach out to those who have reviewed my book, begging them to repost their reviews if they can find it in their hearts to do so.

Way to stick it to the little guy Amazon.

-Amy L. Boukair

Water.

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:45:00 +0000

February 11, 2014 / Amy Boukair

There are so many water analogies that can translate to life experiences: you can ride a wave of happiness, or you can crash onto the rocks of despair. The tide can be high or low in sync with your moods, or you can be cruising along without a care. You might be mentally drowning, or treading water, or just trying to stay afloat. You can feel as though you’re in a fog. Actions have rippling effects. There are emotional droughts and floods.

I had recently been riding a pretty big tidal wave of excitement with the initial release of Indigo, when I received news that brought me crashing onto those metaphorical rocks. The news (still as yet private - sorry), even though it was anticipated to eventually become a reality, rocked me to my core. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it and understand all of its implications before I can even speak about it directly in public. It just totally knocked me out of the general complacency that we all tend to fall into - that things will go on the way they always have; that things won’t change. Well, I’m here to tell you, things ALWAYS change. And sometimes they change quicker than you’re ready for them to.

So what’s the first thing I want to do? Write about it of course. Well, at least get some of these emotions out of my system. The tears fell yesterday when the news came, and still a little bit today, I admit. For me to continue being the “strong” person that I’m going to need to be, I had to get the weakness out of the way as early as possible. Today was a research day – something I tend to do a lot of when facing new challenges. I’m a firm believer that an educated person is a well-prepared person. I’m only scratching the surface of what I’ll ultimately have to deal with, but I’m at least on my way.

The point of this blog post? Expect the ‘maybe someday’. The unexpected will always be just that, unexpected. Not much you can do about that. Can you prepare at all for the ‘maybe someday’? Perhaps. But if you tried to count or even acknowledge all of the ‘maybe somedays’ that are out there, you wouldn’t have much time left to do anything else now, would you?

The ultimate point of this post is this: Life is short. Shorter than you can even imagine. In the blink of an eye your entire existence can change. What you hold dear can slip from your grasp in a heartbeat. Don’t let the contentment of everyday life interfere with prioritizing what is truly important.

Somebody cut you off on the highway? So what. Someone in the Express Lane with more than 12 items? So what. Don’t have the newest SmartPhone? So what. Nobody liked your latest selfie? SO WHAT.

Prioritize These Things: Hug your kids often. Be kind to strangers; you have no idea what anyone else is going through at any given time. Tell your loved ones that they are loved – and tell them often, even if it makes you or them uncomfortable. Be kind to your animals; you’re all they have. Be patient. Offer an unexpected kind word. Be brave when you don’t want to be. Do the right thing, always – even if nobody’s looking. Be thankful and gracious.

One of my favorite RED songs (the one that inspired my latest tattoo) features the following lines:

As I burn,
As I break,
I can't take it anymore.
I return to the place,
Where the water covers over everything.
Rescue me somehow.

I meant to ask the meaning or location of “where the water covers over everything” when I met them last autumn, but think I know what it is now - and it’s two-fold: It’s where yes, you can feel like you’re drowning, but it’s also a peaceful place. When you’re under water, you don’t hear all the noise that life can make. You’re not distracted by the peripheral chaos. You can focus on what’s really important.

I’m jumping into that water now. It’s time to focus. Life is short.

Ramping Up

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 06 Dec 2016 06:44:00 +0000

October 23, 2013 / Amy Boukair

I've spent the last couple of weeks working on peripheral projects for Indigo . I've completely revamped my website, and switched to a new host - Squarespace, which has some pretty cool templates that are fairly easy to work with. I think it's a more cohesive approach since my blog is now integrated into my site.

Unfortunately, the majority of my Beta Readers seem to have fallen off the planet, and I'm still waiting for the graphic designer to send me her cover ideas, but I'm still hopeful that things will come together quickly for my projected January 2014 launch date. The countdown is on, and I'm already starting to feel the pressure.
With that pressure though, comes excitement. I'm SO excited to finally have a novel to even release! I'd originally planned to not edit anything until I had feedback from the Beta Readers, but think I may just have to dive in head first and just do the best I can with it. It might be time to print it out and red pen the crap out of it again.
Doing so will most likely change my attitude about Indigo from this:

To this:

Can't wait!!!

The Sweetest Dance

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Sat, 24 Aug 2013 20:19:00 +0000

I did it.

I wrote a book.

I can't believe I freaking did it! Indigo is DONE!

Oh yea...

Well, almost.

Now comes the truly excruciating part - editing. I've just completed my first front to back read-through and I am internally cringing at some of the things I'm finding. One thing that glaringly stands out - I am the Queen of 'slightly.' I'm actually amazed anyone gets anything done in this book with everything they do being so slight.

"...he says, moving slightly."

"I force my eyes open slightly, taking a peek..."

Argh!!!!!!

Another thing that stands out are all of the cliche's I tend to use. I didn't count how many times it shows up in the book, but things are always 'bubbling to the surface.' Really, Amy? Sigh.

With all of the times I've changed the PoV and tense, I'm still finding errors there as well. Good times. Good times.

I'm nowhere near publishing-ready; I still need to have my Constant Readers give it a look and help me round out the characters and fill in potential plot holes. I always know in my head what I mean, but that doesn't always translate onto the page, so hopefully they can help with that.

Regardless of the work still to be done on it, I accomplished something I honestly never thought I would. I wrote a book.

When I typed "-END-" at the bottom of the manuscript, my hands were shaking. I sat and stared at the screen for a few minutes and just cried. Whether they were tears of joy, or relief, or pride, I don't know. After three years of toiling on this book, they could have come for lots of reasons. Once the tears stopped, I grabbed the Shua for a very happy celebration dance in the living room. It's our thing. It's what we do when good things happen.

Even compared to the 11 years of dancing recitals I participated in as a child, or the numerous school dances, or any other dance for that matter - the celebratory dance that happened in my living room on the night of August 21, 2013, was definitely the sweetest dance I've had by far.

The Yellow Balloons

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 16:19:00 +0000

Like many Americans, I was transfixed to my television yesterday as news of the bombing at the Boston Marathon unfolded. The initial explosion was replayed countless times until I couldn't look anymore. I had thought that through constant watching, I would somehow numb myself to it, but instead only became more distraught each time the concussive blow went off. The one thing that caught my eye amid all of the chaos, and kept me watching, was the bunch of yellow balloons.

There is an initial jarring, and movement forward, then immediate release up to the sky as the holder of those balloons’ life changed forever. One can’t help but wonder if it was a child holding those strings tightly and possessively as children do of things full of wonderment and delight, only to have it ripped away. It’s a disturbing thought; and one I can’t seem to get out of my head. Life can change in a nanosecond, in the best but more often, worst of ways. It’s how we respond to these tragedies that make us who we are as a nation.

And the responders were many.

Another thought I had while watching the terror unfold was of people’s response to the event. You see some running away in fear, and some rushing in to help. I even asked myself the question: What would you do? Would you run away? Or would you run in to help? I’d like to think if I didn't have my son with me, I would run in to help, but I can’t know that for sure. Can anyone know what they would really do? Is there anything wrong with running in fear? Of course not. There was complete chaos and confusion. It’s human nature to want to protect yourself and your loved ones. That being said, it’s practically unnatural to run towards mayhem instead of away, but yet people did it. The sight of volunteers, police, National Guard, and even just bystanders ripping that fence away to get to the wounded was inspiring, and shows the true heart of our nation.

This attack, from whoever it was, was not the first, and unfortunately most likely won’t be the last. We are all reminded of previous events that have tried, but failed, to shake our resolve. We are a free country. We have an open society. And the world is a dangerous place. It is a hard fact to live with, but somehow we do. We go on; a little thicker skinned, and a little more wary.

Tragedy can strike anywhere, and anytime, but I am heartened in light of those yellow balloons lifting untethered to the heavens, that there are courageous souls willing to run in to help.

Do It Anyway

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 23 Oct 2012 21:10:00 +0000

You've all probably seen this in one form or another, I'm sure. I ran across it the other day and felt the need to post it here. It's most commonly credited to Mother Teresa, but there are other sources for it as well. Whoever wrote it, it's message stands true still:

Do It Anyway

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

Start From the Dark

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Mon, 06 Aug 2012 19:39:00 +0000

Between work, travelling, buying a new car, trying unsuccessfully to get my son into an adult day program, my two (or three) World of Warcraft raid nights, random karaoke nights, following the London Olympics, catching up on Doctor Who, and all the other run-on-sentence-adding adventures, I’ve had no time to write. Even in my down time, I find myself either reading or vegging out on the TV, or now – God help me – playing SongPop on Facebook (It’s addictive. You’ve been warned); and Indigo sits, patiently twiddling his fictional thumbs.

My new Baby.

I will get there. Trust me. It’s been approximately two weeks now that nothing new has gone into Indigo, but I do sense some new material on the not-too-distant horizon. A quick break can be a good thing - giving the mind time to relax a little from the pressure of telling an intense and complicated story. I can now go back to it a little fresher, with a more objective eye. That’s the goal anyway.

Being busy for me is a good thing. It helps lift my mood. As my sis-in-law said today: A non-busy me makes my mind do “dark things.” It was really an apropos way to put it.

One of my favorite Europe songs is “Start From the Dark,” and if you think about it – it truly is a good place to start. When you have "dark things" in your mind, no matter what they are - they can be a seed for creativity; a launching board for brighter things.

Here are the lyrics, they’ve always hit home for me:

Thought you were ordinary

Would not amount to much

I guess they never knew you

You found the place they couldn't touch

Said you were nothing special

Always kept to yourself

You had to fight your own way

There's always been touch too much at stake.

What you gonna do?

'Cause you're just like me

What you gonna do?

Tonight, this is where we go

To find out who we really are

We've got nothing left to lose

Tonight, this is how we breathe

To put some strength back in our hearts

We've got nothing left to lose

We start from the dark

You'll never pass for someone

Who'll find a place in line

You'd sooner take that last breath

Than give away your heart and mind

What you gonna do?

'Cause you're just like me

What you gonna do?

Tonight, this is where we go

To find out who we really are

We've got nothing left to lose

Tonight, this is how we breathe

To put some strength back in our hearts

We've got nothing left to lose

We start from the dark

Start from the dark

Now it’s time to take Abbey to the vet. Yay…

Here’s to keeping away the “dark things.”

Chew ‘em Up. Spit ‘em Out. Pass.

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Tue, 10 Jul 2012 02:14:00 +0000

Not quite two weeks ago I sent the first 60 pages of Indigo to a critiquing service for a paid manuscript review. I will not be promoting this service by giving out their name here, but if you would like to know who it is, feel free to message me personally. The service was to notify me that:

they received my manuscript;
who it was assigned to for the critique; and
the turnaround time.

I did not receive that information as promised. When I followed up within a week of submission, I was told they don’t give out the name of the person performing the critique “due to other work agreements that they have,” and that the turnaround time was 4-6 weeks. That was last Thursday.

In the interest of full disclosure, and as you may be able to tell from my tone – the review was not good.

I received my critique in less than a week, and the critique itself had spelling errors in it. I’m still shaking my head that a paid editor doesn’t know the difference between desert and dessert. Really? And I paid real money for this? Also, the anonymity of this so-called editor is still bothering me as well – what were their credentials? How am I sure they even have an interest in the genre I’m writing? How do I know they have any credentials at all?

The service was to include the following:

12-16 pages of detailed notes on premise, plot structure, pacing, characters, dialogue and marketability
A graph-based "Emotional Response" chart
A rating on the "Pass, Consider, or Recommend" scale
A one-page synopsis to use as a "leave behind" when you get that all-important meeting

It was NOT to include this:

Rewrite or revise for you, except in the case of providing an example of how to revise on your own.
Correct grammar, mechanics, and spelling. (Our *** service does correct grammatical errors, including punctuation, capitalization, verb tense, spelling and sentence structure.) However, the story analyst will point out any patterns of surface-level error that may pose a significant problem for you.
Correct for Industry-Standard Formatting. However the story analyst will point out general and repetitive formatting errors throughout the manuscript.
Provide any fact-checking.
Provide answers or advice on legal issues

What I did receive:

Barely 12 pages of notes, 4 of which were lists of minor grammatical errors
Instead of a one-page synopsis to "leave behind" when I get that all-important meeting, I got a two page book report giving a blow-by-blow account of each chapter
One paragraph on concept
One paragraph on pacing
Absolutely nothing about marketability

Disappointed? You betcha.

Mind you – they did have some good points in their critique. In my constant changing of PoV and tense, some grammatical mistakes were left in. Okay – mention it and move on – don’t give me four pages listing out each one.

There were a couple questions/suggestions regarding the storyline and characters that were worth my consideration – but not worth what I paid for this crap.

I think the main problem here (and I could be wrong because I’ll never know who the editor is), is that the person who read this was expecting a full-blown science fiction story, when I clearly stated in my submission that it was ROMANCE/sci-fi/fantasy. It’s barely even sci-fi really, as it’s a character driven suspense story, not a science driven story. They even say in the overall notes: “…the romantic tension between our hero and heroine is palpable (and very satisfying for readers).” DUH! That’s the point of a romance novel you twit!

When I first read the critique I was pretty devastated. My writing is crap yet again. The second time through I noticed their grammatical errors, and the apparent haste at which the critique was prepared. As I continue to analyze it, I see that what I’ve written is completely outside of their element and experience. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not completely dismissing their review because it was negative. As I mentioned, there were some good points given, and they’ve been duly noted. I just don’t feel that I received what I paid for. And that is truly disappointing.

With all that being said, my writing may still be crap – but I don’t think the person that got paid to critique my work was necessarily the best to judge that.

Oh, and by the way – here is my ‘graph-based "Emotional Response" chart’:

Not bad for the beginning of a suspense novel I’d say…

The New Blog Do

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Thu, 28 Jun 2012 03:48:00 +0000

Just like my emotional hair, I got bored with the way my blog looked, so I changed the template. I initially started looking at WordPress templates, but didn’t want to bother with actually working on something new. I’m in too lazy a mood to muck around with learning. Luckily Blogger has added some new templates that don’t look totally stupid. So, here it is.

I do miss my calla lily picture though. But, it’s still on my website, so I guess it’s okay that it’s not here. Kind of makes the name of the blog a little silly now… but you’ll have that. Silly me.

Here she is...

What do you guys think of the new layout?

Oh - and if you're looking at this on a mobile device - you get something totally different... just an fyi. :)

The 3:00 A.M. Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Wed, 27 Jun 2012 07:10:00 +0000

It’s going on 3:00 A.M., and I want to write something. Anything that isn’t Indigo. Don’t get me wrong, it’s going fine and dandy – I just felt like writing something else. I need to get out of my characters’ heads for a while.

There's no one in the place - except you and me...

So is this finally a blog about how well the writing is going? Apparently so. I’ve been on quite a tear the last few weeks. Not making a ton of forward progress, but doing a lot of editing and shaping; fine tuning, if you will. It feels good for a change, and I think it may be because I’m forcing myself to do it. I have a finite set of hours in the evening that I am at least re-reading and editing, if not writing new stuff. Every once in a while I’ll print out a hard copy and take my red pen to the whole thing. It’s amazing what typos or inconsistencies you can find in a hard copy that you don’t see in a digital one. Plus when it’s on paper, it just feels like a book… and it’s getting heavier every week, which is nice.

I did another complete rework of the point of view back to first person, which is just more comfortable for me to write in. It may not be the right way to do it, but it works for me. Also, since the story of Indigo is suspense – being in first person allows for that immediacy that I don’t think you get with a third person point of view. First person is more intimate; and I think, allows the reader to become even more involved in the story – rather than just being a spectator. Again, this is all subjective, and some people hate first person narratives, but then – they don’t have to read my book, do they?

I will say that I am so happy that the warm weather is at last upon us. I can finally sit in my favorite writing spot (my enclosed patio) and just type away, occasionally glancing up at the various critters around my yard. We get a lot of visits from the neighborhood squirrels, blue jays, and even deer if they’re brave enough. One of these days I’ll live somewhere warm enough to be able to do this year round. Until then, I’ll take advantage of the few months I have. I don’t think I’ll be as motivated just sitting in my office.

Well, that’s enough meandering for one night. Off to sleep; perchance to dream of Indigo and Maya’s next steps…

My Characters; My Friends.

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Mon, 11 Jun 2012 17:59:00 +0000

I’ve finished the first 50 pages of Indigo for the WeBook contest and submitted it for judging. It will most likely be a week or so before I start seeing feedback from readers, and my anxiety is palpable. It’s always nerve-racking to send your creative babies out into the world, but this one is especially difficult for some reason. There is always fear of rejection – I think that’s natural for any author, but Indigo gets my blood pumping so differently than Ghosting did. He’s been in my head for so long, nagging at me to get out, and now that I’m doing that – it’s like telling a deeply personal secret to the world. It’s not as though I’m baring my soul, or standing naked in the middle of a mall, but close - I think that’s a pretty close analogy.

I'm ascerred.

When you spend countless hours thinking, writing, reading, re-reading, and editing the crap out of something, it’s hard not to personalize it. It’s even harder not to internalize the characters. They live in your head – and you’re the biographer telling their story. You want to get it right, and you want to do right by them. After all, they are trusting you to tell it correctly. That’s a big responsibility for an author to undertake.

My own imagination brought them to life, sure. But now that they’re here in my head, they’ve evolved into something somewhat real. They have their own personalities, senses of humor, vices, mannerisms, histories, endearing qualities, and character flaws (pun intended). No, I’ve not gone mad with invisible friends. I don’t talk to them - out loud anyway, but they are always present in some way. It’s hard to explain fully. It truly is one of the wonders of being a writer – the ability to create these completely intangible, yet concrete people and scenarios. And as a writer, you live with them almost all the time, whether you want to or not.

So all I can do now is wait for the feedback and criticisms from the contest reviewers with a mixture of excitement and dread. It’s a horrible combination, yet delicious in its own way. In the meantime I’ll just continue writing as though Indigo is the best thing since Shakespeare penned his first sonnet. Until the bubble gets burst by a critic, it’s a good feeling to have.

Ray Bradbury, 1920-2012

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Wed, 06 Jun 2012 20:29:00 +0000

The writing world suffered a huge loss today. While he hated the term "science fiction" (he preferred "fantasy"), much of Mr. Bradbury's work is classified as such. When you think of science fiction - you think of Ray Bradbury. He invented dystopia decades before The Hunger Games made it popular.

Most people know him from Fahrenheit 451 (required reading for a lot of high schoolers), The Martian Chronicles, or Something Wicked This Way Comes, but he was so much more.

He published at least 27 books, over 600 short stories (he was the KING of short stories), plays, screenplays and teleplays (Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Twilight Zone, The Ray Bradbury Theater to name a few), fiction and non-fiction, and even children's literature. He was quintessentially the writers' writer, and would write at least 1,000 words a day - no matter what.

His impact on the imaginations of readers and writers will be felt for generations to come. His passion for creativity will be sorely missed. In reading about his prolific writing career today, I came upon this quote that should inspire any writer (me included):

"If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling. You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world."

A True Pioneer
(AP Photo/Lennox McLendon)

Indigo

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Wed, 30 May 2012 18:06:00 +0000

Readers and writers both try to picture characters in their heads.

This is my Indigo.

Alex Pettyfer.

You're welcome ladies. ;)

Memorial Day (f.k.a. Decoration Day)

noreply@blogger.com (Amy Boukair) — Mon, 28 May 2012 17:14:00 +0000

Decoration Day

Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest

On this Field of the Grounded Arms,

Where foes no more molest,

Nor sentry's shot alarms!

Ye have slept on the ground before,

And started to your feet

At the cannon's sudden roar,

Or the drum's redoubling beat.

But in this camp of Death

No sound your slumber breaks;

Here is no fevered breath,

No wound that bleeds and aches.

All is repose and peace,

Untrampled lies the sod;

The shouts of battle cease,

It is the Truce of God!

Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!

The thoughts of men shall be

As sentinels to keep

Your rest from danger free.

Your silent tents of green

We deck with fragrant flowers

Yours has the suffering been,

The memory shall be ours.

-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

My thoughts and prayers are with those who have lost loved ones while in service of our country. May the fallen rest in peace with our gratitude for your sacrifice, and theirs.

-Amy