Nighttime Rose

Finding Treasures

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 26 Jul 2012 19:17:00 +0000

Yesterday, I spent the morning cleaning my kitchen and reorganizing all of the drawers, hutches, and cabinets in sight. A daunting task if ever there was one. I call it daunting because I’ve had one china hutch for two decades or more, since I was a pre-teen and used it to hold my books, toys, and sewing stuff. Of course, it’s changed over the years. I’ve painted it black, lined the drawers, and need to replace some of the hardware because they’ve broken.

While I still use it to hold my herbs, sewing stuff (some things don’t change), and other things, it’s mostly faded into the kitchen and been forgotten. Until I needed more space in the kitchen and decided to clean it up. What I found in some of the drawers though took me back to high school and farther.

Here’s what I found:

LP Records – a language series that I bought to teach myself Hebrew. (Don’t ask why I wanted to learn Hebrew, but I don’t have an answer other than… because I could.)

A Planner for 1996 – the year I graduated.

Programs from two of the Rainforest Players productions I acted in.

Pictures from High School - including a Homecoming picture and a Fork’s Forth of July Royalty picture.

A Handwritten Note from 7^thGrade.

The LP records had me laughing, the pictures were fun to show my kids, and the planner was really amusing as I relived my last year of high school, but it was the handwritten note from middle school I loved the most.

As I read the single page note – which asked me to talk to a boy for a friend because she *really* liked him – I couldn’t stop giggling. This was my middle school experience and for a brief time I got to relive it when I read that page.

At the same time it made me sad too. When I think about the kids in middle school now I realized they won’t ever have that experience of cleaning out an old box or drawer and finding something from their past. How can they when everything is sent via email, twitter, text, or Facebook? They can’t.

On the positive note, I’ve been prompted to write some letters to friends, just because I can.

Pantser vs. Plotter

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 19:33:00 +0000

There are two main styles of writing seen in the author community; Plotting and Pantsing. Plotting is where you outline the plot of your story (like you used to have to do in high school for nearly everything). Pantsing is where you sit down and type whatever will come out.

You can find some wonderful blog posts about these two forms of writing at Writing.Com, Second Win Publishing Blog, and The Editor’s Blog. All three go into detail about what makes a pantser or a plotter. So, if you would like to see how the other side lives you can read all about it.

Personally, I am a plotter. A BIG TIME plotter.

The Editor’s Blog says that “plotters wouldn’t think of beginning a novel without some idea of who the characters are, including knowledge of their goals and motivations; where those characters are going; the challenges that will stand against those characters; major plot events; and the story’s climax and resolution.” All I can say to that is; Damned Skippy.

Maybe it’s part of my OCD or just who I am, but when I want to write something I need to know the meat of the story so I know where it will be going and who will be in it. At home I have spreadsheets of character information, hundreds of note cards with facts, scenes, character motivation, and notebooks full of tidbits of writing. All of them help me to figure out the story and characters.

By having a plan I can twist my plots and add in foreshadowing (something I truly love). My favorite writers and creators have always been plotters and create the most amazing stories. Imagine Harry Potter without all the notes and planning J.K. Rowling had done? Or what about the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Joss Whedon knew main points of his series for seasons and seasons. I love that!

With all that said, there are times when I sit down to write and what I had planned on writing doesn’t happen. It could be called pantsing, but I prefer to think of it as character free will. Sometimes when I want character A to do action A they end up doing action D. This happens because in my writing their motivations change and so their actions change to match those motivations.

Yet, even with this little bit of pantsing I think I would get hives if I tried to sit down and just create a story without a plan or characters. I’ve actually shelved story ideas because I don’t have any details written down or a plot in my head for that idea. I’ve also found I can’t really start writing without knowing certain points in the story like when the MC makes the decision to figure out what is happening, when they decide to lead to the climax, when all hope is lost, and what the climax will be. Film students call this the six stage plot layout. Without those points figured out I just can’t get my mind around the story enough to write it.

Pinterest as a Mood Ring

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 12 Jul 2012 20:18:00 +0000

It occurred to me yesterday that Pinterest is like a mood ring. You can generally tell exactly how I’m feeling by looking at what I’m pinning. For example, I was in an odd mood on Monday night when I started a board called “Zombie Attack Survival Ideas” ( http://pinterest.com/roseglitschka/zombie-attack-survival-ideas/). BTW, I dreamed about kicking zombie butt all night long.

Tuesday I was nostalgic as I worked on adding to my SCA board ( http://pinterest.com/roseglitschka/sca/). You see, for me the SCA - Society for Creative Anachronisms for those of you who don’t know what it is – is filled with wonderfully fond memories. I was a very active member from the time I was 16 until I was 22. It’s fallen by the wayside since then, but I still love it with all my heart. Adding to that board gives me the warm and fuzzes all over.

Yesterday, I added to my Halloween board (http://pinterest.com/roseglitschka/halloween/). Halloween is my hands down favorite holiday. EVER! I’ve hosted Halloween parties since I was a kid and my mum let me do the psycho scene in our bathroom when I was 14 (It took 8 months for the blood to get out of the grout and she never let me do it again). Looking for new Halloween ideas inspires me.

Of course, my first stop every day I go to Pinterest is to the Everything: Geek area (http://pinterest.com/all/?category=geek). Seeing a whole category devoted to geeky fun brightens my day, makes me feel less alone in the world and in my own geekiness.

And when I add to my beloved “My Own Backyard – Washington State” I’m feeling very prideful (http://pinterest.com/roseglitschka/my-own-backyard-washington-state/). As the largest of my boards and the most repined I love sharing the wonders of Washington state with people. I was absolutely thrilled when Snohomish Country Tourism started to repin and follow that board.

My mood ring for Pinterest posting:

Emotion	Board
Bored	Entertaining Party Ideas Foods and Drinks Cakes and Cupcakes Yule/Christmas Entertaining Summer Entertaining Holiday Decorations Seasonal Decorations Dream Home Ideas
Happy	Harry Potter Fun and Games Camping
Odd/Weird	Zombie Attack Survival Ideas Interesting things
Nostalgic	SCA Television shows I like/love Inspiration Books that Have my Attention Movies I love
Inspired	Halloween Geeking Out Places I love!
Inquisitive	Steampunk
Whimsical	Fairy Tale Inspirations
Proud	My Own Backyard – Washington State Washington State Independent Book Stores
Mixed Up	Quotes

Fan Fiction

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 05 Jul 2012 07:10:00 +0000

In some literary circles the idea of fan fiction is a hot topic. There are opinions that go both ways with some authors supporting it, like J.K. Rowling, and others that don’t, like Nora Roberts. But why do we write fan fiction in the first place?

In general, I think people write fan fiction because they feel comfortable in the author’s world and through that comfort find their own voice to write with. Because they don’t need to come up with their own world, which is a daunting task, they can have fun with creating a story, adding characters, or imagining “what if” scenario. This “play writing” helps them to develop their storytelling skills that can be later used on their own works.

Some recent authors, like Marissa Meyer, highlight their fan fiction past (you can read about it on her site http://www.marissameyer.com/id/ ). Meyer has told several bloggers and interviewers about her love of Sailor Moon and how she would spend hours writing fan fiction for the Japanese anime (personally, one of my favorites too).

Fan fiction didn’t start my storytelling or my writing, but I can honestly say it definitely improved my skills. In fact, I’m often sad because some of my favorite experiences in writing came from writing fan fiction with a large group of friends at www.GinnyPotter.com, Working with between 5 and 20 writers at a time to create a single story was AMAZING!

What I miss most about that experience is that we would often bounce ideas off each other. Mixing and weaving our plots to work together until 20 characters moved seamlessly around each other, but with each of them having their own story to tell. It was complicated, hard and sometimes a mess, but it was always fun.

Personally, I think fan fiction is a great way to help others become comfortable with their own voice. Through it I was able to grow and find out who I am as a writer. Without that experience my writing would still lack so much.

So scribble a story, tell a tale, or become a fanatic about something because it can only make you a better person and a better writer.

Do the Research

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 21 Jun 2012 04:35:00 +0000

This weekend the Disney movie BRAVE comes out and while I’ll most likely see it at some point I’m also very irritated by it as well. The premise of the movie is a Scottish noblemen daughter is being auctioned off to other lords as a way to insuring peace. The MC, Merida, is “not your average princess” because she likes to be wild, shoot with a bow, and wants adventure. However, her mother forces her to wear tight dresses, sit straight, and be a lady. It’s a typical plot for any Disney princess movie.

What irks me is this….. It’s not Scottish!

Scottish women were warriors just like their men. They did not wear fancy dresses or sit straight and you would never call one of them a lady to their face. Well, not if you wanted to live.

Why does this irk me? It shows a great lack of research on the part of Disney writers.

Research is a cornerstone of writing.

For the past four months I’ve done TONS of research for my next book. A Steampunk novel set in Londonin 1885. I’d only read one or two Steampunk books before I got the idea of my story, but I knew it would fit into this genre. That meant I had to learn more. Since then I’ve read 8 other Steampunk books, researched what actually happened in London between 1880 – 1900 (to pick the right year), learned as much as I could have turn of the century tech, and re-read the classics that many Steampunk inventions are based off of.

I’ve learned a lot. And I’m still learning as I continue to look things up for locations, persons, and authenticity.

Because this isn’t a historical book I do have some leeway on what to include in my book, but doing the research gives the story the credibility it needs. Sure, Disney can have a Scottish “princess” who needs to act like a lady, but it lacks credibility to people who know how Scottish women acted.

Critiques

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Fri, 15 Jun 2012 18:15:00 +0000

Few people can say they love getting critiques. It’s a hard thing to hear that your baby, the novel you’ve been working on for months, isn’t nearly as perfect as you had imagined. Of course, hearing something good is wonderful, but doesn’t it really help you make your novel better? Not usually.

That’s why I like hard, brutal critiques. Yes, they’re hard to take, but they make me push harder to put into writing the story I already have in my head.

This week I received critiques back from two literary contests I entered and went through the feedback I got from my new critique group. All of it was very helpful and now I’m working on revisions…. Again.

A single critique is really of no use to anyone. It takes more than one for you to see a pattern rather than personal preference. That’s why I’m happy that I have four critiques to look at right now because it’s the things mentioned in all of them that I can focus on.

What would those aspects be?

Spelling (autocorrect changed some of my words)
Passive voice in some sections
Pacing in chapters 2-4

So it’s back to the computer to revise Secrets again and fix these pieces that are dragging it down. In the end I’ll be happy because it will be stronger and that’s what I really want.

Garage Sales

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 07 Jun 2012 06:51:00 +0000

When I think about my grandfather there are a few memories that always surface.

1) The constant smell of smoke.

2) Sports, specifically football, on the TV.

3) A dry sense of humor.

4) His giant RV.

5) A strong stoic figure.

6) Squirrels (his favorite animal).

7) Garage sales.

Any time I see or think about one of these things he is forefront in my mind, which is why when my mum asked about going to some garage sales last weekend and again this weekend I instantly thought of him. So did she.

It doesn’t matter what you call them: garage sales, yard sales, estate sales, we’ve all been through them at some point. Last summer our family had one of our own. A yard filled with clothes too small for the boys, movies we don’t watch any more, books I’ve read and won’t read again, and mounds and mounds of toys. People came and looked around, but mostly it was me laying down on a blanket reading. I finished five books in that single weekend.

For the most part I rarely buy anything at garage sales. But its fun to look and then, occasionally, you find that little gem. Last week it was all six Planet Hulk comics still in their plastic sleeves. I actually squealed in joy.

In my youth my grandfather would take me with him looking at garage sales as well. He was always on the look out for fishing stuff, books, RC cars (he had a track in his backyard), and who knew what else. I still have several of the things I found while out with him all those years back. My favorite is my Funk and Wagnalls Encyclopedia of Folklore. I use it to this day for research and it’s one of my prized possessions.

What I’m trying to say is that sometimes it’s nice to remember the fun and enjoyable things of our youth. Reliving them, even as adults, can bring us a renewed sense of enjoyment.

Fairy tale retellings

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Wed, 30 May 2012 19:50:00 +0000

Recently I’ve been obsessed with fairy tales. It’s not a new thing; in fact I went through a fit of fairy tale reading last summer when I read two dozen books that were retellings of classic fairy tales. The Once Upon A Time series was a great read with interesting and new twists on classic fairy tales. My favorites were Rapunzel and Cinderella.

The stories were very different from the originals, but well told and had all of my favorite elements. They also showcased strong female leads and made the heroines less damsels in distress and more masters of their own fate. Something I love in my books.

Fairy Tale retellings are everywhere and have been around for as long as the fairy tales themselves.

Well known reimaginings like those written by Gregory Maguire include Wicked, Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, and Mirror Mirror. In these stories he changes the point of the view from the original story focusing on another character to tell us to the story. He also changes the setting of the stories, but the core elements remain the same.

There are also new retellings like Cinder by Marissa Meyer where Cinderella is a cyborg from the future kingdom of New Beijing. Additionally, a new movie premiered on Nickelodean this week called Rags which is the story of Cinderella, but gender twisted so that the main character is a boy who lives with his stepfather and two evil stepbrothers.

My own fascination with retellings comes from the possibilities that these stories have and how we can change them, twist them, and completely flip them upside down, but still have the same morals and themes running through them. Cinderella is about someone who works hard and is rewarded for them strong ethics and convictions. Beauty and the Beast is about seeing past appearance to what lays beneath. Snow White is about innocence overcoming wickedness.

This type of retelling is my current work in progress (WIP). Like with most retellings it won’t be a standard fairy tale, but something that has been twisted and flipped on its head. It is also a collaboration between fairy tales and a new genre I have fallen in love with Steampunk.

Look forward to more information about these projects in the future.

Evolution of a Story

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 24 May 2012 22:13:00 +0000

The evolution of a story is a complex thing.

What should you change and why? What should stay the same? Who do you listen to when making changes?

I thought I should share the differences that have happened in my own novel: Secrets in the Woods. There are some elements that have stayed the same in the first chapter and some that haven’t. There are many reasons why, but the main one is because I think it makes the story stronger.

What are your thoughts?

First Draft

Chapter One

Three things went through my mind as I chased mysterious lights in the woods behind my house. Lights that were likely only figments of my imagination created by to many cans of Dr. Pepper and not enough sleep. One, I was certainly going to kill myself running through the forest at two thirty in the morning when I could trip standing still. Two, I had reached an all new level of crazy to think those strange little lights were real. Not to mention the decision to go in after them. Three, if Melanie, my best friend, really saw those same lights up ahead of us, as she claimed, my life was about to get even more complicated.

That was all the time I had for coherent thought before my legs began to burn from overuse and the need for air made me swallow down another gulp of frigid night air. Mel and I had covered most of the gap between the back of my apartment building and the woods already. Down through the blackberry bush trails that led out to the empty baseball fields below. Of course, she was up in front while I brought up the rear. But then Melanie was tall, athletic, and a member of the track team during the spring. My best quality was trying to be invisible, which I had only limited success at.

As I watched her run in strong fluid movements I realized all too painfully how inadequate I was - in every department. She was tall, five nine, with pretty light blonde hair and bright blue eyes. A thin statuesque figure that made you want to hate her on principle. And the coordination to take more than two steps in a row without falling flat on her ass. In other words, my identical twin, if we lived in opposite world. Average, plain, and simple were the only words to describe me. At five feet five inches - the typical height for women in the U.S., I couldn’t see over a freshman let alone anyone else in high school. Add to that fine brown hair that refused to do anything, but lay flat and straight past my shoulders. As well as muddy brown eyes that never sparkled or twinkled or did anything else remotely pretty. No one would call me beautiful. To top it off, I was a klutz. No, klutz was too kind. I was a walking disaster area. As evident by the purple stripped pajamas I wore already being covered in mud with several holes in them from falling twice and running into the wrong end of some sticker bushes. At least, now we were on flat ground again which should improve my chances of staying upright.

Dim floodlights - used to keep the unwanted from gathering in the dark baseball fields - cast a soft glow over the vacant baseball field giving us a little light to see by. Clouds covered what would have been a full moon, but this was the Northwest and we got to see the sky only once in a while. Outside of the baseball field the local park looked menacing at night. Dark shadows cast eerie patterns on the playgrounds as strong breezes pushed at the swings with invisible hands. Mel and I had snuck out of the house a few times before, but somehow tonight everything felt more frightening.

Mel slipped into the woods disappearing into its dark branches. With her out of sight I began to freak out. Hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as my ragged breathing lost any control it possessed. From the corner of my eye I saw something, but refused to acknowledge it. What you didn’t see couldn’t scare you. That was what I kept telling myself as I ran towards the place where Mel had entered the woods.

There was an urgency to find out what was in front of us. Melanie had seen it first, at least that was the story we were going by. I hadn’t told her, and wouldn’t tell her, that I had seen the same lights before. Truthfully, I’d seen them at least a dozen times from my bedroom window. I just thought they weren’t real.

My body ached by the time I reached the woods. Physical activity was not high on my list of daily pleasures. Hide in my room, hang out with Melanie, or a trip to the river definitely, but running for pleasure? No, thank you. That was all Mel. Two things kept me going; my best friend was already in there and she had seen those lights. With that knowledge I plunged in.

Beneath my feet twigs cracked and leaves crunched as I tried to keep up my pace. This was infinitely harder due to the fact that I could only see a few feet ahead. Some of the baseball field’s lights reached into the woods, but not very far. The only other light came from the moon when there were small breaks in the clouds. Shadows loomed everywhere and tree branches reached out to grab at me as they pulled on my hair and clothes.

Deeper into the forest the small, mysterious lights moved farther away. They made an erratic pattern in the dark as they passed between trees and behind bushes. Sometimes they would disappear altogether which left me without any direction. My heart pounded from the run, but more so from the anticipation of what was to come. It was hard to put into thought let alone into words, but there was a feeling that moved through me pushing me forward that I hadn’t felt before. A need to prove, if only to myself, that this was real. It was happening at this very moment.

Mel was nowhere to be seen after I entered the woods. You’d think her blonde hair would stand out against the gloom, but there was no trace of her. I considered calling out to her, but a sense of apprehension stopped me. Sure, she would hear me, but who else might be in here with us? And would I really want to know who else was in the woods with us in the middle of the night? Probably not.

More light flooded into the forest making it easier to see. The clouds must have finally moved over to let the moonlight through, for the moment at least. I took advantage of the additional light and pushed myself harder. It was easier to move through the trees now that I could see them. The ground was still uneven, but you can’t always get everything you want.

Unfortunately, the extra light made it harder to find the little ones I had been chasing. They had been moving deeper into the woods towards the south east, exactly the opposite direction of my house and safety. I could only hope that was the way they were still headed and continued going that way.

Something moved to the right of me which sent me into panic mode. I didn’t want to look. With clenched jaw I refuse to look. If it was a stupid rabbit or even a bear I would rather just keep running and hope it went away. If it was something else I would rather just not know. Whoever said knowledge was better than ignorance didn’t have to live my life. I would trade just about anything for ignorance.

“Elle, over here.”

Her urgent whisper sent me jumping a mile high. So it was no surprise when I lost my footing coming back down and ended up on my butt on the ground. From behind a large, partially barren maple Mel reached a hand down to help me up. I could see her lips moving, but it took a few seconds before I could hear anything over the pounding of my heart. Then another minute before my stomach dislodged itself from my throat so I could speak.

“Start over. I didn’t hear any of that.”

A brief annoyed look passed over her face. “They went that way,” she said pointing deeper into the forest. Even farther from home. “But it’s too hard to see them now. We should keep going this way and maybe we’ll see them again.”

“Are you sure we saw anything in the first place?” I said, not looking up to meet her gaze. Instead, I busied myself by brushing off the leaves that had stuck to my backside.

“Of course we saw something!” she snapped, moving from annoyed to outright irritated. “Don’t tell me you’re chickening out of this. You were just as excited as I was when we climbed out the window.”

After I steadied myself, I looked up. Yep, she was livid. Her blue eyes were tight and narrowed as they stared me down in a way that only she could do. Both hands on her hips had balled up into little fists. Melanie could be down right scary when she wanted to be and right now she was doing a fine job of it.

I held up my hands in surrender. It would be better to back peddle than try to talk her out of this. “Okay, okay. I know we saw something out here. I just don’t know if it’s the smartest thing to be running through the woods in the middle of the night.” Logic should work, right? Nope.

With a roll of her eyes Mel dropped her arms and turned back into my best friend. “You need to stop being such a worry wart, Eleanor.” I glared at her. I hated the way she called me Eleanor like it was a bad word. The look was completely lost on her though as she turned toward the part of the forest the lights had disappeared too. Mel nodded once as if she had made a decision, but hadn’t shared yet. “If you want to go home that’s fine. I’ll come back after I find out what’s out here. Don’t worry about me,” she said, then turned her head to give me a smile before she broke into a run.

I felt sick, stomach all jumpy and upset. I couldn’t leave Mel out here alone, no matter what she said about it. But something told me that I might not want to know what was really out here after all. The anticipation that had been buzzing through me earlier twisted into a different feeling that ranged between fear and hysterics, leaning more towards fear with every moment.

“Damn it. Not again.”

I started after her following her blonde bobbing head about thirty feet in front of me. She weaved easily between the trees and bare branches. Her green pair of pajama bottoms and white tank top both spotless. Why couldn’t I be more like that? Instead, mud covered most of my lower half with a few spots on my purple tank top as well. Not to mention several cuts on my arms where tree branches had gouged me and at least one deep scratch across my left cheek.

The full moon’s light began to dim again which took with it my ability to see. With the lack of light it was harder to find Mel. Her blonde bobbing head had disappeared into the darkness again. My eyes stayed focused on where she had been. If I could get there she might be visible again. That was my theory anyway.

When I reached the spot she had disappeared too there was nothing. Not only couldn’t I see her, I couldn’t see anything else either. Just dark looming shadows of trees that rose up all around me. Their angry branches stretched out like spindly skeleton arms. The beginning of a panic attack had started. My stomach turned as I imagined every bad thought or nightmare I had ever had coming to life. Short shallow breaths were all I could manage. For a moment I felt like Snow White lost in the woods, but that only made things worse because I didn’t want to see seven dwarves coming at me with pitchforks.

To the left there was a loud noise. A scream cut off to quickly? Or was it just an animal that had crashed into a tree trunk? My breath stopped all together as my ears strained to listen. Nothing. Silence filled the woods in an unnatural way. Not even the sounds of branches creaking could be heard. ‘It’s all in your imagination’ I told myself. ‘I’m just over reacting again’. The platitudes didn’t help. Another noise and I ran. What shocked me was that I ran towards the noise, not away from it. But all I could think about was that it could be Mel and she might need me. What the hell I could do if she was hurt hadn’t really caught up to me yet. My mind was focused on getting there and then figuring the rest out.

Everything in my body felt as if it was doing double time. My heart raced, lungs constricted, legs burned, and my mind wouldn’t shut up. I’d already crossed half the distance between where I’d been and where I thought the noise had come from. Just a few more meters and I should be where Melanie was.

Two more feet and she appeared standing directly in front of me which made me skid to a stop before I tumbled into her. But it wasn’t Mel. I didn’t know who she was. She had shoulder length dark hair that was matted down with earth and leaves. Her deep dark eyes quivered. Her skin looked tanned or maybe olive toned. She was in a denim skirt and blue top that hung off one shoulder. No, it was torn on one side which is why it hung off loosely. Tears ran down her cheeks and she had blood on her arms, legs, and face.

I was about to ask her what had happen when she spoke. “Run.” It was barely above a whisper so I didn’t think I had heard her correctly until she said it again. “Run!”

At once, I turned to run reaching back for her hand to pull her along with me, but she was already gone. Not waiting to see where she had gone or why she had wanted me to run, I ran. Sprinting forward into the dark and using every muscle I had, my legs carried me faster than I would have thought possible. The cuts and scratches from branches and bushes didn’t register as they dug deeper into my skin than before. All I could think about was how that girl had looked at me. She had been frightened to death, now I was too.

There was no direction or light to show me which way was out so I went straight. The forest had to end somewhere. I didn’t care if I was ten blocks away when I came out of it. Even the river would do right now. Just so long as I got out of the woods.

The thought was barely made when I saw Mel’s face in my mind. An image of her super imposed over that of the other girl. Mel’s ivory skin spattered with blood, hair matted with earth and leaves. I would not let that happen to her.

“Mel! Mel! Get out of the woods!” I yelled in all directions as I ran. The deep cuts on my cheeks began to string as salty tears trailed into them. “Mel get out!” But I didn’t know where she was or if something had already happened to her. My screams would probably attract whatever had hurt the other girl, but I couldn’t stop from yelling. She had to get out.

I felt it then. A sharp quick pain to my back and then I was flying forward. My arms rushed out to catch me, but didn’t manage in time.

Everything went black.

What do you think? It has merit, but not as good as it could be.

Final Draft

CHAPTER ONE

Bring on the straight jacket and padded room because I’ve completely lost my mind. There was no other explanation for chasing mysterious lights into the woods behind my house at 2:30 in the morning. Seeing little flickering spots had to be part of a mental breakdown brought on by too many cans of Dr. Pepper and not enough sleep. At least, I hoped it was the Dr. Pepper and lack of sleep.

“Are you sure… we saw… anything?” I said gasping for air as I raced to catch up with my best friend Melanie. A difficult task in the middle of the day on flat ground, but in the dark while running through blackberry bushes on a hill it was nearly impossible. Blood already trickled down several cuts on my arms, and my pajama bottoms had more mud than clean surface left. At least I hadn’t fallen yet.

Then I did.

The tip of my shoe caught on something hard and unmovable sending me tumbling down in a pile of my own appendages. My arms flailed through sticker bushes as I tried to protect my face. It was a miracle I hadn’t rolled off the path and into the thickest part of the bushes. Instead, I ended up right behind Melanie with an audible huff.

“Yes Elle, I’m sure. I saw it too remember,” Mel said before turning around to see I wasn’t standing behind her. “What are you doing down there?” she asked looking at me like I’d chosen to sit down on the wet grass because it was a nice night and I wanted to relax.

“Imagining myself back in my bedroom.”

Clearly exasperated at my laziness she shook her head. “This is real, Elle. So stop trying to chicken out. If you don’t hurry up we’re going to lose them.”

She was right. We had to find out what those lights were, if only for my own sanity. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I said slowly standing up to make sure all body parts were accounted for and in the right place.

Whatever the lights were we needed to know. I needed to know. Melanie saw them first, at least she was the first one to see them tonight. I’d told her after she pointed them out that I’d seen the same lights before. Honestly, I’d seen them at least a dozen times. I just hadn’t thought they were real.

They were hallucinations. Delusions. Fantasies. Dreams. Call them what you will, they were born from my twisted little brain. A place even doctors feared to tread. Only that’s not true, because Melanie saw them too, which meant maybe I wasn’t ready for that padded room again. Not yet, anyway.

Across field the flickering spots had disappeared into the woods. We had to go now, and without being seen, or we’d lose them for sure. Of course, Melanie took lead while I brought up the rear, but then she was tall, athletic, and a member of the track team. My best quality was trying to be invisible, though I had limited success.

As I watched her run with strong fluid movements I realized all too painfully how inadequate I was - in every way. She was tall, five nine, with pretty light blonde hair and bright blue eyes. A thin statuesque figure that made you want to hate her on principle and the coordination to take more than two steps in a row without falling flat on her ass. In a twist of fate, she was also my best friend, maybe my only friend.

Average, plain, and simple were the least derogatory words to describe me. At five feet five inches, I couldn’t see over a freshman let alone anyone else in high school. Add to that fine brown hair that refused to do anything but lay flat and straight past my shoulders, muddy brown eyes, which never sparkled or twinkled or did anything else remotely pretty, and scar riddled skin. No one would call me beautiful.

There was also a history of mental illness. Seeing things that weren’t really there, which is why I continually questioned everything I see. Taking visual clues from others if they saw the same thing I had. Otherwise I ignored it. Pretended it wasn’t there. The alternative was Bellevue mental hospital.

At least I could hide that part of me.

There was no hiding my other faults, like being a klutz. No, klutz was too kind. Walking disaster area fit much better. As evident by the mud that covered my purple-striped pajamas, two bloody arms, and a wet bottom. Not to mention my stellar exit from the blackberry bushes a few moments ago. Being on flat ground again my chances of staying upright should improve.

Dim floodlights - used to keep the unwanted from gathering in the dark - cast a soft glow over the vacant baseball field giving us little light to see by. Clouds covered what would have been a full moon: this was the Pacific Northwest and we rarely got to see the actual sky.

Outside of the diamond infield, the local park looked menacing at night. Dark shadows cast eerie patterns on the playgrounds as strong breezes pushed at the swings with invisible hands. Mel and I had snuck out of the house a few times before, but tonight, it somehow felt like another person was with us, watching over my shoulder, ready to jump out at a moment’s notice.

That’s what the doctors called paranoid. Their preferred term for me was delusional schizophrenic. But they were always changing diagnosis.

Across the field and already at the edge of the woods, Mel slipped between two tall evergreens and disappeared. I had barely covered half the field as I ran towards the place where Mel had vanished.

My body ached by the time I reached the woods. Injuries aside, physical activity was not high on my list of daily pleasures. Hide in my room, hang out with Melanie, or a trip to the river: definitely. But running for pleasure? No, thank you.

Two things kept me going forward: my best friend was already in the woods, and she’d seen the lights. Armed with that knowledge, I plunged in.

Beneath my feet twigs cracked and leaves crunched as I tried to keep up my exhausting pace. This was made infinitely harder since I could only see a few feet ahead. Some light from the baseball field reached into the woods, but not very far. The only other light came from the full moon when there were small breaks in the cloud cover. Shadows loomed everywhere and bare tree branches reached out grabbing at me and pulling on my hair and clothes.

Deeper into the forest, the inexplicable lights moved farther away. They made an erratic pattern in the dark as they passed between trees and behind bushes. Sometimes they would disappear altogether, leaving me without any direction. My heart pounded from the run, but more so from the anticipation of what was to come.

Mel was nowhere to be seen. You’d think her blonde hair would stand out against the gloom, but there was no trace of her. I wanted to call out, but fear stopped me. Sure, she would hear me, but what else was out here? And did I really even want to know? Probably not.

I felt sick, my stomach all jumpy and upset. Still I continued on, running deeper into the forest. But there was nothing, just dark, looming shadows of the trees that rose up all around me, their angry branches stretched out like spindly skeleton arms.

The beginning of a panic attack gripped me. My stomach turned as every bad thought or nightmare came to life in my imagination. Short, shallow breaths were all I could manage. For a moment I felt like Snow White lost in the woods, but that only made things worse because I didn’t want to see seven dwarves coming at me with pitchforks.

From the left, there was a loud noise. It was sharp and jagged and set my teeth on edge. My breath stopped all together as my ears strained: nothing. An unnatural silence filled the woods. Not even the sounds of branches creaking could be heard. It’s all in my imagination I told myself. I’m just over reacting again. The platitudes didn’t help.

Another noise and I ran. What shocked me was that I ran toward the noise, not away from it. But all I could think was that it could be Mel, and she might need me. What the hell I could do if she was hurt hadn’t really caught up to me yet. I focused on getting there and then figuring out the rest.

Everything in my body was going double time: my heart pounded, lungs constricted, legs burned, and my mind wouldn’t shut up. I’d already crossed half of the distance between where I’d been and where I thought the noise had come from. Just a few more meters, and I should be where I thought Melanie was.

Two more feet and she appeared, standing directly in front of me, making made me skid to a stop before I tumbled into her. But it wasn’t Mel.

I didn’t know who she was, but there was just enough light for me to see her. She had shoulder length, dark hair that was matted down with earth and leaves. Her deep, dark eyes quivered. Her skin looked tanned or maybe olive-toned. She was wearing a denim skirt and blue top that hung off one shoulder. No, it was torn on that side, which is why it hung off loosely. Tears ran down her cheeks and she was covered in blood.

“Run.” It was barely above a whisper, so I didn’t think I had heard her correctly until she said it again: “Run!”

At once, I turned to run, reaching back for her hand. But she was already gone. Not waiting to find out where she’d gone or why she had wanted me to run, I ran. Sprinting forward into the dark and using every muscle I had, my legs carried me faster than I would have thought possible. The cuts and scratches from branches and bushes didn’t even register as they dug deeper into my skin than before. All I could think about was how that girl had looked at me. She had been frightened to death.

I couldn’t tell which way was out, it was all one big forest encircling me. But it had to end somewhere. I didn’t care if I was ten blocks away from home when I came out of it. Even The River would be welcome right now, just so long as I got out of the woods.

Then I thought of Mel: An image of her smiling face superimposed over that of the other girl. Mel’s ivory skin spattered with blood. Her hair matted with earth and leaves. I would not let that happen to her.

“Mel! Mel! Get out of the woods!” I yelled in all directions as I ran. The deep cuts on my cheek stung as salty tears trailed into them. “Mel, get out!” I didn’t know where she was or if something had already happened to her. My screams would probably attract whatever had hurt the other girl, but I couldn’t stop. She had to escape.

I felt it then: a sharp, quick pain to my back, and then I was flying forward. My arms rushed out to catch me but didn’t manage in time. Everything began to go black. One last burst of color shot towards me: red and gray like fire and smoke. Then I was out.

Cover Design Contest

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Tue, 08 May 2012 17:34:00 +0000

When three things I enjoy come together there is no way I can resist.

In this case it is a cover design contest hosted by Bookalicious Pam for Coliloquy and Heidi R. King for her new book The Gleaning. A sequel to King’s The Spellspinner of Mela’s County: Witch’s Brew.

Coliloquy is a new kind of ebook. Like the old Choose Your Own Adventure books you get to have a say in what happens. Personally, I always loved those books and still have a dozen or so of them lying around the house.

The two designs I have put together are here:

For these cover designs I took inspiration from the ideas of light and shadow, dark and light, and duality. The mirror image of ourselves has always intrigued me. Two sides of the same coin; one tarnished and the other shiny.

Point of View

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Wed, 02 May 2012 19:10:00 +0000

Recently, as in this week, I had to stop and consider the point of view of a WIP. After 5,000 words I began to realize that a first person point of view wouldn’t work. Yes, it allowed me to be close to the action and get into my MC’s head, but it felt… off.

My problem was that first person is a common and liked point of view for the genre I’m writing in. So if I were to change my WIP I would need more cause than “it felt off”. This lead me to research the subgenre I’m working in and after reading half a dozen books in that subgenre I’ve found that third person limited is more excepted and works better for the description aspects.

Because of this experience I thought I would talk about Point of Views this week.

First, let’s start with a definition of what these Point of Views are.

Point of View is defined by the American Heritage Dictionary as:

NOUN:
pl. points of view

1. A manner of viewing things; an attitude.

A position from which something is observed or considered; a standpoint.
The attitude or outlook of a narrator or character in a piece of literature, a movie, or another art form.

In writing a point of view there are several options broken down into three types of point of view. 1^st person, 2^ndperson, and 3^rd person. This begins at the closest to the actions and moves back with each shift in point of view.

First Person

First person is told from the point of view of a single character, normally the protagonist. It uses words like “I”, “me”, “my”, “we”, and “us”. This intimate form of story telling allows the reader to become very close to the action. Wrapped up in the characters ideas, thoughts, and sometimes misconceptions.

The draw back in this form of story telling is that the audience can not see what the character does not know. Hidden information must be uncovered in unique ways (like mind reading, placing listening devices, or asking questions) or through cliques (like overhearing a conversation, a misplaced letter, or people blurting out information).

Second Person

Second person is the least used for of point of view in writing. This is the point of view of a single character that is not the protagonist and is watching the action slightly removed. It uses words like “you”, “your”, “we”, “us”, and “they”. The benefit of a second person narration is distance and misconception. By using a character other than the protagonist as the narrator you can color the protagonists motives, actions, and dialog. A sweet, innocent girl may appear cruel and actions like love could appear with malice.

The draw back of this point of view is again the narrator has to rely on ways to view the action of the protagonist and hear conversations related to the main story.

Third Person

Third person is the most removed from the action of the story and can be told in two variations including: third person limited and third person omniscient. These variations control how close the reader is to the action and how much the reader can experience.

Third person limited is much like 1^st person point of view with the focus taken back to the point of watching the protagonist on a movie like screen. All emotions, thoughts, and action can be experienced from this point of view, but there is a distance and less urgency to the audience. This is one of the largest used points of view in writing.

Third person omniscient takes the reader a step farther back. From this point of view the reader can experience everything in the author universe. Multiple characters can be followed, their thoughts and actions explored.

Now that we know what 1^st person, 2^nd person, and 3^rdperson point of view are how do we decide which one to use?

Here is a chart that can help:

Besides this lovely flow chart also remember to look at genre standards.

Middle Grade Fiction

Young Adult Fiction

Dystopian

Urban Fantasy

Science Fiction

Horror

Paranormal Romance

Contemporary

Adult Fiction

Romance

Thriller

Suspense

Chick Lit

Adventure

Comedy

Erotic

Historical

Memoir

Political

Religious

Science Fiction

Horror

Western

Each of these genres will have a typical point of view. Of course, you can always use a different point of view if needed, but knowing why something is used in a genre is important.

Character Bio - Jared Moore

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 02:41:00 +0000

Continuing with other Secrets in the Woods characters I am highlighting Jared Moore this week. Jared is super popular, oh-so-yummy, and has a kin interest in Eleanor. He is also on the track team in the spring with Melanie.
Jared has some secrets too.

He is not a character you can get in a single look. You have to keep going back and you’ll see new things about him.

Look out for other bios from Secrets in the Woods including Melanie Matthews, Elle’s best friend, Isabel Anderson, school bitch, Darla Linden, school bully, Devon Smith, the new mysterious transfer student, and Eleanor Price, the main character for Secrets in the Woods.

Jared Moore

The Facts

Age:                              17
Birthday:                     April 30
Place of Birth:             Everett, Washington
Parents:
                                    Jennifer Moore – Mother (Deceased)
                                    Allen Moore – Father

Appearance:
            Height:            5’9”
            Weight:           160, athletic
            Hair:               Shaggy black hair
            Eyes:              Amazing grey eyes
            Skin:               Slightly tanned skin.

Physical traits: A quick smile, a nice word, and intense eyes that change color to match his moods.

First description in Secrets in the Woods:

At five foot nine, he was a few inches taller than me, but Melanie could stand eye to eye with him. Well, she would if she actually looked at him. A runner, he had done track with Mel the year before. Running gave him a trim, athletic body with round shoulders and a chiseled waist. Shaggy, jet black hair looked as if he had always just stepped in from a wind storm. It also made you want to run your fingers through it. But most amazing were his grey eyes that shifted in color to match his moods.

School Grade: Junior
Favorite Class: English
School Nickname: God/Hunk

Personality

Best Friend: None.

Favorite Color: Grey and blue
Favorite Flower: Honeysuckle
Favorite Hobby: Horticulture and Nature
Favorite Book: Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Favorite Food: Fish and Chips
Favorite Sweets: Fresh Fruits

Character Bio - Darla Linden

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 23:20:00 +0000

Continuing with other Secrets in the Woods characters I am highlighting Darla Linden this week. Darla is Isabel’s best friend and meeker shadow. She is also the person who coined the term “void”.

In Secrets you get a few glimpses of who Darla really is. She is more than Isabel’s shadow. Darla is stronger and more confident than people give her credit for. She is also fiercely loyal to her friends.

Look out for other bios from Secrets in the Woods including Isabel Anderson, Eleanor’s personal version of hell on earth, Melanie Matthews, Elle’s best friend, Jared Moore, the school hunk, Devon Smith, the new mysterious transfer student, and Eleanor Price, the main character for Secrets in the Woods.

Darla Linden

The Facts

Age:                            16
Birthday:                     Dec 6
Place of Birth:             Portland, Or.
Parents:
                                    Monica Linden – Mother
                                    Chance Linden – Stepfather

Appearance:
            Height:            5’9”
            Weight:           115, long and lean
            Hair:               Sleek and shiny auburn hair
            Eyes:              Hazel eyes, more green than brown
            Skin:               Creamy ivory skin
            Physical traits: Darla enjoys muted colors and natural light.

First description in Secrets in the Woods:

Beside her, Darla was meek by comparison. Sleek and shiny auburn tresses flowed a few inches past her shoulders. Flawless, ivory skin like cream surrounded sharp, hazel eyes, more green than brown, which studied everything around her. And where Isabel’s body curved like an hourglass, Darla was long and lean.

School Grade: Sophomore
Favorite Class: Art
School Nickname: Sidekick

Personality

Best Friend: Isabel Anderson
How she relates to Eleanor: Enemy/School bully

Favorite Color: Gold and Brown
Favorite Flower: Sunflower
Favorite Hobby: Drawing and Art
Favorite Book: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Favorite Food: Three Cheese Tortellini with Pesto
Favorite Sweets: Dark Chocolate

Then and Now

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 01:04:00 +0000

I’m taking a brief break from my bio posts to share this recent thought with you.

As I was reading Divergent by Veronica Roth, a brilliant book, I was struck with a question that has been flouting around Twitter. Which fraction are you? Much like Harry Potter’s Hogwarts test children are divided into fractions or houses based on personalities. This got me thinking about where I would belong.

In Harry Potter house tests I’ve always gotten Gryffindor, which I agree with. In a fraction test I got Dauntless. This would make sense because both groups value courage and bravery. As a loud, outspoken person who has learned to make her own path I would agree with both of these.

However, I began to think about what would have happened if I would have taken these tests when I was 11 or 16. At these two ages I was a completely different person. Not just younger and more naïve, but my core philosophies hadn’t yet formed. Those came from life experiences that shaped me into who I am. So why, in books, do we expect kids and teens to have everything all figured out?

This has made me re-evaluate who I was at 11 and 16.

At 11 years old, I was in fifth grade and living in Everett, Wa. Shy, quiet and just learning to enjoy books I was an introvert. Talking to people freaked me out, but I was very protective of the few friends I had and my family. My mom was my idol because she worked hard and took care of three of us all by herself. Self esteem was not something I possessed and I tended to blend into the background and enjoyed it that way.

With these things in mind I think I would have ended up in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor. This change would have shaped me into a different person than who I am today.

At 16 years old, I was in 10^th grade and living in Forks, Wa. I was beginning to come out of my shell a little, but shy and quiet could easily have described me still. Add to that the fact that I hated school. Not learning, but the environment of high school. A torture inflicted on every child so that we can learn to deal with trauma before become adults. Sarcasm was a foreign concept to me at this stage in my life.

That pile of hair is me at 16 while living in Forks, Wa. Told you I was shy.

So which fraction would I have chosen? I lied to much for Candor, didn’t really appreciate knowledge so Erudite is out, liked to put others first but only sometimes and not all the time so Abnegatine is removed, bravery was no where in my vocab so dauntless is out, and I distained the color with such hatred it remains today so I would never be Amity. Most likely, I would be whatever my family was because I couldn’t break the mold yet.

Then and now.

I’m glad I never had to chose who I would be when I was younger because I would have been wrong. Like Buffy Summers says in Chosen from seventh season “Okay, I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming whatever the hell it is I'm gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and... maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies.”

Character Bio - Isabel Anderson

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 05:23:00 +0000

Continuing with other Secrets in the Woods characters I am highlighting Isabel Anderson this week. Isabel is Eleanor’s school bully and the goddess of Everett High School. She is a spoiled rich girl who likes to get her way and is used to pushing others aside without a problem.

Isabel is a great character because she is more than any one action or description. She is popular, spoiled, and a real bitch. However, she comes to the aid when needed and is a fierce friend.

Spoiler: there is more to Isabel than meets the eye. You will see her evolve and get a glance behind the mask as time goes on.

Look out for other bios from Secrets in the Woods including Melanie Matthews, Elle’s best friend, Jared Moore, the school hunk, Devon Smith, the new mysterious transfer student, and Eleanor Price, the main character for Secrets in the Woods.

Isabel Anderson

The Facts

Age:                             16
Birthday:                     March 28
Place of Birth:             Los Angeles, California
Parents:
                                    Kathleen Anderson – Mother
                                    Donald Anderson – Father

Appearance:
            Height:            5’8”
            Weight:           120, curvy
            Hair:               Thick black hair
            Eyes:              Hard brown eyes
            Skin:               Cooper tanned skin like sunlit honey.
            Physical traits: Red lipstick, high heels, expensive name brand clothing, and a laugh that is “a deep throaty laugh that sounded entirely inappropriate for a high school student”.

First description in Secrets in the Woods:

Even now, standing in front of a crowd she captured the eye. Raven black hair fell in ripples to the middle of her back. Copper tanned skin glowed like sunlit honey. Hard brown eyes with thick black lashes glared out at the world from under heavy lids. Ruby red lips smiled wickedly, pearly white teeth just beneath their surface.

School Grade: Sophomore
Favorite Class: English
School Nickname: Goddess

Personality

Best Friend: Darla Linden
How she relates to Eleanor: “Eleanor’s personal version of hell on earth.”

Favorite Color: Red and Black
Favorite Flower: Rose
Favorite Hobby: Shopping and Social Media
Favorite Book: The Last Goodnight by Connie J Jasperson
Favorite Quote from Book: “'There is no such thing as a fair fight, only winners and losers”
Favorite Food: Chicken Carbonara
Favorite Sweets: Godiva Chocolates

Character Bio - Melanie Matthews

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 19:17:00 +0000

This week I thought it would be fun to get a closer look at another character from Secrets in the Woods, Melanie Matthews. Melanie is Eleanor’s best friend and the catalyst for change in Elle’s life. It’s because Mel sees something that Elle thought was only in her head that spurs Elle into action. Together they take the first step that begins an adventure for both of them.

Melanie (Mel for short) is one of six children in the Matthews brood. She is the second oldest and the oldest still at home. Her older sister, Cynthia, is attending Western Washington University.

As a former popular girl, Melanie has a lot of things going for her. She is pretty, smart, and athletic with a curiosity that could kill a cat. Eleanor thinks of her as a roller coast because Mel can be excited one moment and down in the dumps the next.

My favorite characteristic about her is Melanie’s eternal optimism.

Look out for other bios from Secrets in the Woods including Eleanor Price, the main character, Jared Moore, the school hunk, Devon Smith, the new mysterious transfer student, and Isabel Anderson, Elle’s personal version of hell on earth.

Melanie Matthews

The Facts

Age:                            16
Birthday:                     August 25
Place of Birth:             Everett, Washington
Parents:
                                    Lisa Matthews – Mother
                                    Paul Matthews – Father

Brothers and Sisters:
                                    Cynthia Matthews – age 20
                                    Brian Matthews – age 14
                                    Beth Matthews – age 13
                                    Shawn Matthews – age 7
                                    April Matthews – age 4

Appearance:
            Height:            5’8”
            Weight:           110, athletic
            Hair:               Golden blonde hair
            Eyes:              Bright blue eyes
            Skin:               Sun kissed with fake tanners.
            Physical traits: Fluid movements and strong legs, both from running track for years. She also has great coordination.

First description in Secrets in the Woods:

As I watched her run in strong fluid movements I realized all too painfully how inadequate I was -- in every way. She was tall, five nine, with pretty light blonde hair and bright blue eyes. A thin statuesque figure that made you want to hate her on principle and the coordination to take more than two steps in a row without falling flat on her ass. In a twist of fate, she was also my best friend, maybe my only friend.

School Grade: Sophomore
Favorite Class: Science and Math
School Nickname: Void

Personality

Best Friend: Eleanor Price

Favorite Color: Purple
Favorite Flower: Rose
Favorite Hobby: Looking through magazines
Favorite Book: Anything romantic
Favorite Food: Blood Oranges and Honey Crisp Apples
Favorite Sweets: Red Velvet Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

Character Bio - Eleanor Price

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 20:34:00 +0000

This week I thought it would be fun to get a closer look at the Main Character of Secrets in the Woods, Eleanor Price. As an MC, she is struggling to deal with the events unfolding in her life. Events she sets in motion by making a choice and then dealing with the consequences of that choice.

I love Eleanor (Elle for short) because even though she’s had a hard childhood it’s shaped the person she is today and she knows that. It’s easy to say you would change your past, but to do that you would change who you are today.

Another thing I love about her? She can take a hit. If you read below you’ll see her hit totals for Secrets in the Woods. Honestly, I didn’t do a total until last night and I was amazed by how much physical pain I put her through.

Look out for other bios from Secrets in the Woods including Melanie Matthews, Elle’s best friend, Jared Moore, the school hunk, Devon Smith, the new mysterious transfer student, and Isabel Anderson, Elle’s personal version of hell on earth.

Eleanor “Elle” Elizabeth Price

The Facts

Age:                            16
Birthday:                     July 13
Place of Birth:             Seattle, Washington
Parents:
                                    Janet Price (Fleming) – Mother
                                    John Price - Father

Appearance:
            Height:            5’5”
            Weight:           125, average
            Hair:               Fine, brown hair
            Eyes:              Brown eyes
            Skin:               Ivory or pale. No freckles, but several scars. Normally has one or more fresh bruises, cuts, or scrapes.
            Physical traits: Doesn’t like to be confined and is afraid of small spaces because of her time in the mental ward. Averts her eyes from things she doesn’t believe others can see.

First description in Secrets in the Woods:

Average, plain, and simple were the best words to describe me. At five feet five inches, I couldn’t see over a freshman let alone anyone else in high school. Add to that fine brown hair that refused to do anything but lay flat and straight past my shoulders, muddy brown eyes which never sparkled or twinkled or did anything else remotely pretty, and pale skin without a single freckle to make it look cute or spunky. No one would call me beautiful. To top it off, I was a klutz. No, klutz was too kind. I was a walking disaster area showcased by the mud that covered my purple-striped pajamas and several holes from where I had fallen twice and ran into sticker bushes once.

School Grade: Sophomore
Favorite Class: History and French
School Nickname: Void

Personality

Best Friend: Melanie Matthews

Favorite Color: Blue
Favorite Flower: Lily
Favorite Hobby: Reading
Favorite Book: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Favorite Food: Oatmeal with honey and brown sugar
Favorite Sweets: White Chocolate

Secrets in the Woods Breakdown

# of Falls: 14
# of Scratches: 11
# of Black Outs: 2
# of Broken Bones: 2
Other injures: Deep gash, dislocated shoulder, concussion, massive bruise, and bruised ribs.
Secrets Kept: To many to count.

Best line:

“You’ve said I’m sorry a lot today, you know that? We’ve been together for maybe ten minutes and I think you’ve said it twice already. Maybe you wouldn’t have to say it so often if you’d stop acting like an ass.”

Query Lessons

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 20:03:00 +0000

There are a hundred or more blogs about query letters everything from QueryShark to AgentQuery Connect and all of them are brilliant resources. They can help you refine your query letter to make it catch an agents eye and hopefully get a request for your manuscript, which is really what its all about, right?

I’m not going to talk about how to write a perfect query letter because honestly I don’t have any idea. I struggle with the query letter just like everyone else. It’s a hard thing to take your entire manuscript and make it fit into a single page letter that also shows your talents while explaining who you are and why you do it.

What I thought I would do is show the process of how my query letter has evolved.

First Query Letter

Dear [Agent name],

Eleanor Price is just trying to be a normal teenager when old and new secrets begin to throw her life into chaos. People are going missing, strange lights are haunting her, and a new boy at school seems to be more than even she can imagine. Before she can make sense out of her life again she’ll need to learn to trust herself and break down the secrets around her.

Part one of the three part series; Secrets in the Woods is a completed 72,000 word young adult novel takes us into a world of secrets, magic, darkness, and danger as we discover the truth about Eleanor and the things happening in the woods around her.

Secrets in the Woods is my first novel.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I would be happy to send you my full manuscript upon your request. I look forward to hearing from you in the future.

As you can see there are a lot of issues.

1) I didn’t really give any details about the story or say anything that would grab the agent.

2) There is a list of things in the book without any reference to how important they are or when they happen. Not a good thing.

3) I also didn’t mention that I’m finishing my MFA or my affiliations with PNWA or SCBWI.

4) There is also a lack of information about me. Why am I the one to write this book and not someone else?

Second Query Letter

My novel, Secrets in the Woods, is a completed 72,000 word mystery/urban fantasy young adult fiction novel set in Everett, Washington. Sixteen year old Eleanor Price knows that secures lurk in the woods behind her house. Perhaps more than she can unravel. But when she is the last person to see a missing girl alive - a girl that no one else believes was really there - she becomes determined to find the answers to all of the questions that surround her life. What are the mysterious lights that go in and out of the woods? Who is taking the missing girls? Does Devon Smith, the new boy at school, have anything to do with the disappearances? Why has Jared Moore, a popular junior, begun to look at her with more than friendship in his eyes? Will she be able to live with the guilt of leaving Yasmine in the woods to save herself and her best friend Melanie? To find the answers she is looking for Eleanor will need to deal with her own deep buried secrets. Ones she has sworn never to reveal.

I am currently completing a master’s in Fine Arts English from the National University in La Jolla, California. My fourth degree and second masters.

Should you be interested in additional information I would be happy to send you the desired pages through either email or by FedEx. Thank you for your time in reading this. I look forward to hearing from you in the future.

A little better, but still has a long way to go.

1) There are too many names floating around the query. Who’s important and who isn’t? Hell, who is who in all of these names? You can’t tell.

2) Everything is just one big chunk. It should be broken up a bit more to make it easier to read.

3) I give too much information that isn’t needed and could sound conceded when it comes to my education (though it is completely true).

As you can see writing a good query is hard and a learning process. I’m still learning as I try to find the right words. Hopefully seeing my struggles help you feel less alone.

Chewy Yummy Goodness

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 01:25:00 +0000

I must admit I have an addiction.

Okay, if I’m honest I have many addictions. I’m addicted to reading, to Facebook games, to pajamas, anything with Eeyore on it, and noise (because quiet is disconcerting). But this addiction is different. It makes me do funny things, act strangely and yes, sometimes break into song.

I am addicted to gummy bears.

Yes, gummy bears.

I don’t know when the addiction started. Maybe when I watched the Gummi bears television series when I was a kid. That doesn’t sound right. But if you remember the television show it was funny!

Gummy bears have been my favorite candy, outside of chocolate and caramel, since I was a kid. Their gummy little bodies in all different colors are chewy and delicious. The best part though? Playing with them, of course.

Recently I saw Star Wars I in 3D in the theater with my hubby and a package of gummy bears. While I like Star Wars there are parts that are slow. Enter the gummy bears!

Gummy bears on Tatoonie!

Gummy bears in Naboo!

Gummy bears in the Gungan City!

Oh, how I love my gummy bears!

Death by Gummy Bears

What a World

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 20:25:00 +0000

World building is an essential part of every novel. Setting up the world in which your characters live and where your action takes place allows the reader to become immersed into the story. This is more than adding details about the surrounding area. Anyone can describe a house or a room. World building goes beyond the room, the house, or even the street to the heart of the country or entire planet if needed. It showcases the morals, laws, social structure, and average individuals who live in the author’s world.

This last week I have read four books which are great examples of world building. The Study series (Poison Study, Magic Study, and Fire Study) by Maria V Snyder and Darkness Becomes Her by Kelly Keaton both have different levels of world building. Yet, the level of world building does not diminish the quality of world building.

In The Study series by Maria V Snyder we see an entire world built up for us. It begins in Poison Study with the country of Ixia where military dictatorship is the form of government and a strict moral code called The Code of Behavior works as a set of laws for all individuals. These two pieces of information start as the bases for the world Snyder creates. It is more than the cell Yelena (the MC) finds herself in and more than the castle she ends up calling home. Because Snyder builds on the physical structure to create a social structure, a government structure, and even a philosophical structure she imbues the world with more depth.

This world building goes on to detail two countries, choices in clothes, customs, education, government, and even how society treats the poor. It is not the amount of details given that makes this such an in-depth world, but the quality and choice of which details to give.

By contrast in Darkness Becomes Her by Kelly Keaton we are not given an entire world, but rather a single area New2. However, this area - which was once Louisiana and New Orleans - has been changed into a post apocalyptic region where life is very different than in the its current state. Once again it is not the amount of details given about New2, but the quality of those details. We learn about the level of education, the form of government, social views, and political ambition.

Both of these writers have created extraordinary worlds, which are very different than our reality. These are the far end of world building.

World building does not have to be this extreme to be powerful. In urban fantasy or realistic fiction we can find a world much like our own with only small or no alternations. In Torn by Erica O’Rourke and Twilight by Stephen Meyer we can see examples of realistic fictions where our own world continues with an additional layer of magic added.

In these two books the real world is the bases for the story. However, in these cases the actual building of the world is minimal. In Twilight author Stephen Meyer tells readers about Forks, Washington. That it is a gray, wet place with minimal sunshine a perfect place for a group of vampires hiding from the world. However, beyond the setup as a hiding place the world itself is rarely detailed. The characters enter rooms or buildings which have descriptions, but nothing goes beyond that.

The same realistic setting is done in Torn by Erica O’Rourke. Set in Chicago the world has descriptions of places with additional information about mobsters and the dynamic of the underworld vs. the police. However, the most part the world is limited and not focused on. But the story is strong and brilliant.

The decision to build up the world around your characters and your action should be considered based on the needs of your story. If the world will enhance without distracting from the story it’s a good idea. If it will steal focus from the story it’s better to withhold it.

What drives you?

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 05:44:00 +0000

Are talented people just talented or do the events of their past make them talented?

This week I watched the 200^th episode of NCIS. A surreal experience where everyone talks to Gibbs about who he is the how the choices he’s made have shaped not only his life, but the lives of those around him. The episode shows us what would have happened if Gibbs had made different choices. What would have happened if Kate had lived instead of dying or who Gibbs would have been if he hadn’t killed the person who murdered his wife and daughter?

Throughout this I kept thinking about another television show: Dollhouse. Why? Because of the idea that bad events and troubles shape and push us into being who we are.

Dollhouse is about an organization that can imprint full personalities on the brain of another person. In an early episode the neurologist, Topher Brink, explains that to build a personality you have to take the strengths and the darker weaknesses. Topher says “You see someone running incredibly fast - The first thing you gotta ask is 'Are they running to something or are they running from something?' The answer is always both.”

Would Mozart have been as talented if he’d been able to hear? Or did his disability push him farther than he would have mastered without something to push him into something greater?

My whole point – which is long in coming, I know – is that people, like characters, need to have dark events in their lives that are the foundation for their strengths. Without the pain they wouldn’t struggle for the pleasure. So when you have a sarcastic powerhouse something had to happen in their past to make that character use sarcasm as a shield. If your character is very smart and reads a lot what made them that way? Did they have difficulty reading as a child and over compensated? Did their brothers and sister tell them they were stupid or school bullies call them dumb? If they have the strength to fight a terrible evil what gives them that strength? Did they already overcome a bully? Did their parents teach them to fight back? If so, why did their parents need to explain that?

There is always a reason.

A little background about me….

In first and second grade I had problems reading. It wasn’t until second grade that I was tested and found out I’m dyslexic. My brain doesn’t see things the way it should, which is why the words looked funny. This explains my obsession with learning and reading. I pushed myself to read because it was hard and I was behind other kids my age.

Location is everything

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 08:42:00 +0000

Real estate agents say location is everything. So how do you pick a location for your novel? Some authors pick a city for its culture or background, others pick cities and states based on where they live or grew up. Sometimes it’s about creating a large or small city. Of course, sometimes the cities aren’t real at all.

I knew from the beginning that Secrets was going to take place in Everett, Washington.

From the age of 8 until I was 13 I lived in Everett and many of the places in the book are based on actual locations that I loved during that time in my life. Of course, the places in Secrets aren’t full on factual places. Instead, they are places I remember warped and twisted in my brain into something different. There was a convenience store I used to go to as a kid, but its placement, name, appearance, and workers are completely different. It was the idea of a place I loved to go and felt safe at that I wanted to incorporate into Secrets. The same can be said for other locations like Eleanor’s apartment, Melanie’s house, the river, and the woods. In fact, the woods themselves are not part of Everett at all, but part of my memories from Forks, Washington.

What I love about the woods in that area is that even in winter it’s green. There are bare branches as the deciduous tree loose their leaves, but even on those trees there is moss that grows in thick coats. Ferns litter the ground, fallen trees with more moss, new saplings all creating a carpet of green and brown. It’s beautiful beyond words. Just take a look (see the picture below).

I was shocked this last summer when I went back to Forks and found out that my old apartments have been torn down and half of the forest behind it has been leveled. It’s great for the city as they create new housing, but sad for a nostalgia seeking ex-resident. At least the memories remain and those are what I use in my writing.

Read, read, read

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 21:41:00 +0000

The first advice I got as a writers was to read. Then read some more and finally keep reading. I have to say its good piece of advice and one I would have followed even if I wasn’t a writer.

I love reading, always have.

However, there is more to reading than just enjoying the story. Through reading other people’s work we can refine our own and figure out what we enjoy and why. Is it the characters we’re drawn to? The plot? The world which unfolds for us? Maybe the prose themselves are the appealing aspect. There is always something or we wouldn’t be reading that story. However, there will always be something we don’t enjoy as well. You can’t like everything all the time. It just doesn’t happen.

While reading start to make a list about what you enjoy and don’t enjoy. This will help you in your own writing so that you focus on those points. Below it my own list:

Things I like	Things I don’t like
Action starting right away	Weak females who always need to be saved
Foreshadowing	Slow thinking characters that are written as smart people.
Character descriptions that have fine details	Mean girls without purpose
Fast pace movement	Being clumsy for no reason
Love triangles	An inexplicable romantic connection with a stranger with no explanation
Contradictions in personalities (because we’re never black and white)	Whiny characters
Strong female protagonists	Unrealistic time tables (ie… a books worth of action in two days)
Paranormal elements in the real world	Breaking already established rules without reason or consequences
Intricate plots that overlap
Being surprised/Unexpected plot twists
Characters growing over time

From my list you can see there are a few things that really push my buttons. This is a list of things I avoid doing in my own work. Does that mean you’ll never see? No, you might. But there would need to be a good reason for it. On the opposite side of things you’ll almost always see the good things in my works. Strong female leads and a lot of foreshadowing are two things I love to include in everything I write.

What’s on your lists?

Writing is easy. Revision is hard.

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 20:19:00 +0000

Writing is easy. Revision is hard.

In the past week I’ve read several authors stories about how they wrote their first novel, and first draft, in a week to a month. Then over the next year, or more, they edited it through multiple revisions to make it polished enough to begin to query it. One such blog post came from Marissa Meyer, author of Cinder, who discussed the sale of her novel on Bookalicious. You can read the post here.

Marissa explains how she wrote Cinder in two weeks, but that the revision of it took another two years. During that time new elements emerged, others changed, and pieces were trimmed into a brilliant novel.

When I read stories like this my first question is always the same. How did you determine what should stay in the novel and what should be left out? As I’ve edited my own works those questions replay in my head each time I cut or add to my work. Followed closely by the nagging feeling I might have cut something good when I shouldn’t have. After a day and rereading what I’ve changed the nagging feeling goes away and I feel better about my changes. However, that doesn’t stop the process from happening all over again when I revision the piece again.

With this feeling of loss and uncertainty that comes with revision I was excited to see that Maggie Stiefavter had posted a dissection of her novel The Scorpion Races. This dissection takes us from the first draught through to the final draught. Not only did she do this herself, but she got several of her author friends to do the same. A brilliant idea! To see this wonderful post and those of the other authors just click here.

Reading these posts from several authors and seeing the changes they’ve made was a wonderful insight into their process. It was also an affirmation of my own revision process that gave me a breath of fresh air. Hopefully you’ll have the same fresh air.

Let it snow

noreply@blogger.com (Rose Glitschka) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 03:39:00 +0000

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Western Washington has finally received its first snowfall and boy is it a dozy. In a single week we’ve gotten 6+ inches. This isn’t much compared to when I lived in Columbus, Ohio, but for the Seattle area it’s like an ice age. Of course, the kids are thrilled with the snow and at least two days off from school. I know I always loved a snow day.

For me it’s all about inspiration. I actually went outside and took a few pictures to capture the way the sky looked. It was amazing how the whole world went white. I loved it. The pictures will help me to remember that. Pictures, sounds, television shows, or even a single word can capture a feeling that I want to express at some time in my writing.

Snow is a very versatile element in storytelling. It can be innocence as it dusts the ground, fierce as a blizzard surrounds someone, or compelling as it can move someone to tears. Just think of how snow helped create isolation in The Shining or how it was used as a plot device in Disney’s Mulan. In both cases snow became something more than a weather pattern.

While other elements like rain or wind can also have more than one affect on a story those aren’t meet with the same feelings as snow. Few people look on rain as a good thing. Even if it comes in the middle of a drought rain is only tolerated rather than revered. Perhaps that’s why snow is so powerful.