Quiet on Set!

The high point of my holiday season was helping my daughter shoot the first segment of her sketch comedy pilot. I was much closer to the the action than on a project in 2011, when I was craft service (caterer) and she was directing a pilot for a reality show on electric cars. I was craft service and clean up crew, but I also was a driver, dialogue coach, line producer, and script supervisor.

We filmed downstairs. Our family room turned into a German living room, with a small orange couch, matching lamps on side tables made by my son, a low coffee table hiding the microphone and a few props. I turned the camera on and off. My granddaughter operated the sound recorder. Rachel positioned and focused the camera on a tripod. (My eyes are too old to do delicate focusing, and I know nothing about cameras.)

She and our friend Sarah got into costume with 80's wigs we'd ordered several weeks earlier. We'd visited thrift stores for more costume pieces, borrowing some, buying others. I realized with no small degree of admiration how long she'd been collecting things for this project. For two years now, I have cursed the ever-growing clutter created by the couch, props and costume components.

Rachel wrote the script. Five pages means five minutes of screen time. The filming took three days.  We did take after take of the opening sequence. At least fifteen. The first were dedicated to getting the flow of the dialogue. She and Sarah are exotic dancers posing as exchange students to get to the oil fields of North Dakota, where they are sure that money flows.

We finished the front takes, did the right side takes and were moving the tripod to do the left side takes when the camera froze. A desperate Internet search explained this model of HD camera was sold with a factory flaw which could only be fixed if the camera was sent back for repairs. We scrambled to borrow a camera from a relative, and were filming two hours later.

The second day, we had multiple costume and set changes. Some were outdoors; others in other rooms. We ended the day at Burger King, where we shot two scenes surreptitiously--one in the playland and one in their bathroom. The third day, we retook two segments and shot the last new one.

Acting is hard. Actors need to say and do the same things over and over until the director and DP feel they have sufficient footage to edit for a final cut. Crew needs to be infinitely patient while sets and costumes are changed. They also know not to cough, sneeze, pass gas, laugh or breathe heavily while the sound is recording.

All the takes have been uploaded into Final Draft, and synced with the sound recordings. Now Rachel will pick the best micro-seconds of each take and splice them together into a flowing five minute video. She'll add voice-over, finalize the title, font and colors for the credits.

Editing is where the story is made or lost, and it is a solo operation on a laptop. I'll be excited to see it when it is done, and even more excited when it can be sent out for review and sale. I'll keep her from becoming discouraged. Make sure she finishes it and moves on to the next installments.

I want to see her succeed. And maybe get a job in the movie biz.  I've got an idea for a script....

Answers to The Literary Christmas Quiz - and the winners!

 

1. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

Gift of the Magi by O Henry

2. It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas.

A Child’s Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas

3. Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley, where stands the big, rambling castle in which his toys are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the ryls, knooks, pixies and fairies, live with him, and everyone is as busy as can be from one year's end to another.
A Kidnapped Santa Claus by L Frank Baum

4. Christmas isn't just a day. It's a frame of mind.
Miracle on 34th Street by Valentine Davies

5. I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand.
The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle by Arthur Conan Doyle

6. Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for it was New-Year's Eve yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two houses one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but could not keep off the cold. And she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches.
The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen

7. After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

Harry Potters and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K.Rowling

 

8. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr Seuss

 

9. This bell is a wonderful symbol of the spirit of Christmas – as am I. Just remember, the true spirit of Christmas lies in your heart.

The Polar Express by Chris van Allsburg

10. I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens 

 

Many thanks to all who entered. Four entries were 100% correct, so - in the spirit of Christmas - I'm happy to give of a PDF of any of my novels to:

Sue Millard

Lyn Hickey

Lorna and Larry Collins

Glynis Smy

 

Congratulations to you all. Please visit my website http://paulamartinromances.webs.com/ and let me know which novel you would like.

 

And a very Happy New Year to all the followers of Heroines with Hearts - we hope to see you here again in 2013!

We wish you a happy holiday!

Ten Sentences from my WIP

Since I have Jake and Amber on my mind a lot lately...and that's a good thing!...I thought I'd share a short excerpt from their story, "This Feels Like Home". This is the first time the couple meets.

“You look like you’re new in town.” The slow, husky drawl penetrated the background din and distracted her from her task.

She looked up with a frown. The shadow from the brim of his cowboy hat obscured most of the man’s features, but a dimple winked in his cheek when he smiled. A black T-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, and well worn jeans hugged his lean hips.

She bit back a groan and disconnected the call instead of punching in her code. She wasn’t in the mood to be hit on by one of Gail’s 'nice' cowboys, but she plastered a smile on her face. “Not really. I’m visiting my cousin.” She avoided his gaze and took a sip of her drink. The tart flavor slid over her taste buds.


Any thoughts?!

Until next time,

Happy Reading and Merry Christmas!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com

For your holiday reading pleasure:

A Christmas to Remember
Mistletoe and Folly

A Literary Christmas Quiz

Here’s a quiz for you! All the quotations are connected with Christmas or New Year. Can you work out in which book they appear – and the author of each book?

 

1.  Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

 

2.  It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas.

 

3.  Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley, where stands the big, rambling castle in which his toys are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the ryls, knooks, pixies and fairies, live with him, and everyone is as busy as can be from one year's end to another.

 

4.  Christmas isn't just a day. It's a frame of mind.

 

5.  I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand.

 

6.  Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for it was New-Year's Eve yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two houses one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but could not keep off the cold. And she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches.

 

7.  After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

 

8.  What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

 

9.  This bell is a wonderful symbol of the spirit of Christmas – as am I. Just remember, the true spirit of Christmas lies in your heart.

 

10. I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!

 

I'll echo the final sentiments of the last quote - and, as it's Christmas, I'll give a PDF copy of one of my books to one lucky person who sends the correct answers by December 25th. Leave a comment below, but don't write the answers in the comment box! Send your answers to me at paulamartinromances(at)gmail(dot)com, with 'Christmas Quiz Answers' in the subject line.  Good luck! 

Rest Harrow

So I'm supposed to offer words of wisdom about writing, but after Friday, I haven't much felt like writing, and what I have been writing isn't appropriate for this blog. So, I'm taking the easy way out. I'm working on a contemporary romance that was inspired by this gorgeous house my kids and I saw. It's an old Victorian mansion built in 1872. Did I tell you it was gorgeous? If I had a few million dollars, I'd buy it in a second. But I don't. So, after letting it percolate in my head for a bit, and trying not to drool too often, I decided it would be the perfect setting for a book. My working title is the house's name, Rest Harrow. In case you're wondering, it's a type of herb. I'm not sure I'm keeping it, but it works for now. Below is the beginning of the book. I decided NOT to start with the setting (any of you who read this blog regularly may remember a post I wrote a few weeks ago about the importance of setting and how I started my other WIP with a description of the weather--I still like it, but I'm going for something different). Let me know what you think.

The lawn mower wouldn’t start. Again. She sighed and wiped a straggly piece of hair off her forehead, blowing it away at the same time. She yanked the starter cord and grunted. Nothing.

“Stupid idiot!” She kicked it. “Ow!”

“Want me to give it a try?”

She shrieked as she grabbed her foot and hopped. Her heart raced, but whether from pain or from fear, she couldn’t tell.

“Jeez, you scared me. Um, can I help you?”

She’d hopped far enough away from the stranger to give herself the illusion of feeling safe. There were enough tools and sharp objects within arms’ reach that she could defend herself if she had to, but as she looked toward the man standing in the doorway of the barn, she really hoped she wouldn’t have to.  A crew cut showed off the chiseled bones in his face and the cleft in his chin. A white T-shirt clung to his body and emphasized bulging biceps, a well-sculpted chest and what she assumed would be “six-pack abs.” Worn jeans clung to well-toned legs. This guy was not only in shape, he was gorgeous. Her heart skipped again, this time from lust, and she blushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was passing by and heard you yelling. I thought you might need help, although I assumed you were yelling at a person, not a machine.”

He grinned and a single dimple punctuated his cheek. Her face flushed hotter. She hadn’t realized she’d been so loud. And really, if this guy got any hotter, she’d need a shower.

“If you want to beat up the lawn mower for me, I probably wouldn’t object. It’s the most ornery piece of equipment I’ve got. Came with the house. I should just get rid of it and buy a new one.”

“Here, let me give it a try.”

Never too old to learn

I paid attention last week to an RWA University class on 'Author Intrusion' because Sherry Lewis honed in on one of my not-so-great writing qualities:  When I started writing, I wrote like I was describing a movie, which is omniscent POV. It's been hard to write deep POV.

Sherry said,  "When you write from omniscient point of view, you’re acting as a reporter rather than allowing the characters to tell their own story. That means that you, the author, are is present in every sentence on the page as you report the action that’s taking place. You’re telling, not showing."

Then she gave a solution: write emotional segments in first-person, then transfer to third person. In first person, you have to access the inner perspective of the heroine--her hopes, fears and memories, her backstory. Actions--or non-actions-- are explained and justified from her POV. No more itemizing 'she did this and then did that,' or 'she felt this or that.'

Sherry said, "I do encourage you to write from first person and then edit your scenes until writing from inside the character becomes more natural to you."

I am going to do it. 

Still At It

I've been working on a second round of revisions on "This Feels Like Home" for a couple of months now. When I first got the e-mail asking for more revisions, I really didn't know what to do. After reviewing the editor's comments (several thousand times or so it seemed) I went at what I thought she was looking for. I made some progress. But the flow didn't seem quite right. So I left the mss alone for a while.

Later I went back to it and got into a little bit of a flow. But nothing was really shouting out at me to really keep working on the project. So I stopped looking at it again.

Recently, I've been back at it. Ideas are flowing, and I'm having those "Aha!" moments even when I'm not sitting in front of my computer. That's a good thing.

In theory.

Trouble is, we're in the middle of the Christmas season. And between work, shopping, Advent services, wrapping, baking cookies, and Christmas cards, I haven't found much time to work on the mss. So what's bumming me out is I feel like I've finally found a direction (I hope) to go in, but I have no darn time to work on it.

I'm almost there. It's almost ready for a read-through. My goal is to have the revisions done and to the editor by the end of the year. TWRP does an end-of-the-year shut down...think back to your school days and Christmas break. With this, I finally caught a lucky break. It reopens January 2, which means I have the whole week after Christmas (because I'm on vacation) to do some final polishing before sending it off (again). All of the shopping, wrapping, baking, etc. will be done, and I can devote my time to this.

It's like a Christmas miracle!

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com


For your holiday reading pleasure:
A Christmas to Remember
Mistletoe and Folly - a FREE read

Publicity - and its effects?

At the beginning of November, I sent a brief press release to the local freebie newspaper about the publication of my latest novel. Just over a week later, I had a phone call from one of the reporters who asked me a lot of questions about my writing and I gave her my (somewhat rambling!) answers in return. A short email ‘conversation’ followed a couple of hours later and I sent her a photo.

 

The following week, my automatic ‘google alert’ for my name picked up some press releases, and I found the article about me on the newspaper’s website. Okay, that was good - except that I doubt many people actually visit the website. They wait for the freebie paper to be delivered, just as I do.

 

Two more weeks went by, but the article didn’t appear in the printed edition of the paper, which is delivered every week (either Thursday or Friday) to every house in my local area.

 

Oh, hold on, did I say it was delivered every week to every house? Yes, that’s usually the case. I get the paper every week - except for last week.

 

On Friday evening, about 9.30pm, a friend called -“Hey, you’re famous!”

 

“Am I? Why?”

 

You’ve guessed it. The one week I don’t get the paper, the article about me appears!

 

On Saturday, I rush around trying to find a copy (they’re not available in the shops). Daughter’s copy hasn’t arrived, friend who called me is out…I finally tracked one down mid-afternoon.

 

Here it is:

 

The paper goes to about 6,000 homes in the area (hmm, except mine of course, and presumably the others on that particular paperboy’s round!). So let’s say a rough figure of 5K houses (excluding other houses that might have been missed last week.)

'Great publicity!’ everyone says.

Yeah? By now everyone will have dropped the paper into their recycling box.

And the effect on sales? Okay, I didn’t expect millions, but one or two would have been good. Instead - zilch, zero, nada, nothing, not a single download and no queries on my website (the link was at the end of the article).

So much for publicity!

The only slightly positive result was that I took the report into the local independent bookstore on Monday (the one that wasn’t interested when I took my first book in, over a year ago). The owner there agreed to take a couple of copies of my latest book on a sale or return basis. A couple – two books! Not to go on display, you understand but ‘just in case anyone asks for them.’

Now I’m wondering how many people I can bribe to go into the shop and ask for my books!

Anticipation Is The Worst!

I hate research. I hate thinking about it, and I even hate writing about it, which is why I’ve been avoiding this topic for a while now. J To me, research means going to the library, finding unwieldy books, trying to figure out things that make little sense, and then writing about them in ways others will understand. Blech!

But then I sat down and thought about it for a few minutes and I realized something. Research doesn’t have to be that way. There are many ways to go about researching a topic:

• Library
• People
• Photographs
• Travel
• Computer

I know my friend and co-blogger, Paula, does a lot of her research for her books by travelling to different places. I’ve been inspired by my travels as well. My uncle has a house on Block Island and whenever I’ve visited him there, I’ve always thought it was the perfect place to set a story. It also happens to be a perfect place to retreat to in order to write.

For one of my books, I had to research what it would be like to be in a wheelchair. For this, I found Yahoo groups and spoke to people who were more than happy to talk to me, despite the awkwardness of some of my questions! For another book, I needed information about make-up artists. Again, a computer group helped me to learn about the types of artists there are and the equipment they use. And the social aspect of this method was a bonus!

I once went to fascinating photography exhibit. The photographer took pictures of abandoned buildings that had been part of Ellis Island at one point. He put them together with information about what immigrants experienced and the result was amazing! Photographs provide insight that some descriptions just can’t convey. When I eventually write the historical novel that’s percolating in my head, I know this exhibit is going to help me tremendously.

I guess what I’ve learned is that whatever method I choose to use, and ultimately, I’ll probably have to use all of them, if I’m interested enough in the topic (which I’d better be if I’m going to write about it in such a way so as to engage my readers), the research may be a lot easier than I anticipate.

Continuing My Education

I like taking writing classes. Through them I have learned about POV, characterization, plot development, powerloading sentences, and many other tricky craft skills I am still mastering.

I am taking an interesting class right now: food writing for historical novelists with Camryn Rhys.
We just had our first homework assignment-- a first-hand account of a real-time food experience. I wrote 512 words about cooking and eating fried eggs and toast.  I had to compose details that showed:  Taste. Touch. Sound. Sight. Scent.

The next assignments will be trickier: incorporating them into my story in a way that "creates an important pause in the emotional arc."

For example, to compose sensory details of taking a shower, I could describe how the water feels--its temperature, the spray, is it slippery soft or hard. The shower stall--walls smooth, shiny hard. How the water tastes; the shampoo tastes--and smells. How it looks and sounds on the shower curtain or door before we enter. Once we are inside, how the water and soap bubbles run off my body and down the walls, down the drain. The scent of the soap. The texture of a washrag. The squeakiness of my hair after I rinse out the shampoo.

Once I have these options, I would pick ones that mesh with the emotions of the scene. Is the heroine distraught over a lost love--the spray could feel like knife cuts. I could describe how she feels through her experiencing the spray. Use the few words of a sensory detail to show how a character is feeling.

Or an essential memory. What if my character as a young child was scrubbed harshly by a mother whose husband had just smacked her around?  What if she remembers playing happily with her younger brother in a tub--and now she'd just learned he drowned?  What if she is in the shower with her lover and he slips on the soap--something she has always feared could happen.

I like writing these evocative details. I can see that I can't just list five or six of them to create the mood of my setting. I need to choose the details that I can link directly to the emotion in the scene.

More good stuff to learn.

Starting something new

Jennifer wrote yesterday about getting ‘stuck’ with her writing, and wondered how to get unstuck. I’ve been in the same situation recently, with a story I seem to have been writing forever. In June, I left it on the backburner while I returned to the story I’d written for NaNoWriMo last year. At least the whole story was there, and although I had to change several scenes and add others, I managed to complete it and submitted it at the beginning of November this year (it’s been accepted, by the way!)

 

In mid-October, once I’d completed that one, I turned my attention back to ‘Different Worlds’, but if you remember my post last week, again I got to the stage where I felt it wasn’t working. Someone read it (as least as far as Chapter 10) and says she loves it, which has given me a little more confidence. But after adding only 25 words one evening, and only about 100 the next, I decided I needed another break from it.

 

But what to do now? My mind went back to an article I’d seen recently about an apartment in Paris which had been unlived in and untouched for over 70 years. The lady who owned it had fled to the south of France on the outbreak of war in 1939, and had never returned. When she died, the apartment was discovered exactly as it had been left, and there was also a link to her grandmother and a 19th century artist.

 

The story stuck in my mind, so last weekend I thought more about it, and the inevitable ‘What if?’ cogs started to turn. As a result, I started to compile a ‘family tree’ linking the grandmother to a 25 year old in 2012. Working out all the dates of the different generations, and also what happened when and why, was complicated, to say the least!

 

I was still thinking of having the setting in Paris, but then realised my recently accepted novel has a Paris setting, so I thought it better to have a change from that. How about the Lake District? No, I’ve already set two novels there (plus the one that isn’t working). Where else then?

 

The answer came easily. Ireland, of course, since I’ve been there so many times during the past few years. Now I had to adapt the family tree, and invent a different kind of backstory, because of course there was no need for the family to flee at the outbreak of war, as Ireland was neutral. The whole thing became somewhat complex, as it also involved the hero’s family history too.

 

On Saturday evening, I wrote over a thousand words (more than I’d added to my other story in more than a week!), then changed the setting from Paris to Ireland, and I’d finished the first chapter (just over 3,000 words) by yesterday evening.

 

The ‘other’ story is still turning over at the back of my mind, but for the moment I’m feeling considerably less ‘unstuck’ than I was at this time last week! 

Getting Unstuck

Owl: I say, are you stuck?

Winnie the Pooh: No, just resting, and thinking, and humming to myself.

Owl: You, sir, are stuck. A wedged bear in a great tightness. In a word, irremovable.

                Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, 1966

I’ve been stuck in a rut with my writing for a while now. Currently, I have one first draft done of a manuscript, which is being critiqued as we speak. I have three other story ideas percolating in my head. One has about 5,000 words written, another has about 7,000 words written, and a third has about 1,000 words written.

The 7,000-word manuscript is the sequel to the manuscript that’s out for critique. I really should work on it, because if I ever get it out to editors, and by some miracle, it gets accepted, I’m going to have to continue the series. I love the series. I love the premise and the uniqueness. I love the characters. I can see the whole series in my head. Getting it down on paper is a different story, however, because try as I might, I’m not inspired by it right now. I think part of the problem is that I’m disappointed by the first story in the series and I need to get that into better shape. Maybe when I finish the second draft, inspiration will strike again. So in the meantime, other than a few sentences here or there, I move onto other stories.

Like the the 5,000-word story. It was inspired by a house. I walked through a gorgeous 1873 Victorian mansion that’s for sale in a nearby town. They had an open house and my daughters and I went for fun. We all fell in love with the place. If I had a few million dollars to play around with, I’d buy it in a heartbeat. In the meantime, I dream about it. And in my dreams, I came up with a great storyline. So I started to write it down. I’m 5,000 words in, and I’m stuck. There are pivotal scenes that I have down and running through my head, but I can’t get past them, even though I’ve written them out—the 5,000 words are not necessarily the first 5,000 words. I know the whole plot, the character arcs, the GMC. I know the who and why and everything! But I can’t get past this one scene in my head and when I sit to write the rest of the story, I get frustrated and walk away. So, I move onto story number three.

Story number three has only 1,000 words. It’s going to take a huge effort to write. It’s a story I’ve always wanted to write because it’s based on my family’s history. It’s got a bit of a mystery in it and I’ve come up with a solution that seems plausible. The problem is, it’s going to take a ton of research. I’m talking library research. College-type research. Just the thought of it exhausts me. So I move back to the first completed draft to work on corrections.

The problem is, that draft needs a lot of corrections. The little stuff is easy. Deleting and changing words, adding commas, all the little stupid things—those are easy. It’s the revising and rewriting and filling in that I keep putting off. I know I need to show more emotion in chapter four and I need to further develop the characters in chapter six. But I’m not sure I can do that. Or that I even want to.

Like I said, I’m stuck in a rut. What I really need is some inspiration. Either that, or a swift kick in the butt.

So tell me, what do you do to get unstuck?

Am I crazy?

My birthday was last Thursday, and all week my husband kept asking how I wanted to celebrate. He was so earnest (a quality that has flowered as he's grown older), I didn't have the heart to tell him my fondest wish was to work on my WIP.
After work, we went out to dinner with our youngest daughter at the new Mexican restaurant. (I live in a small tourist town--new restaurants are big news in the winter.) The food was good and surprisingly authentic. I had a real chile relleno, and the complimentary salsa was loaded with yummy fresh cilantro.
Afterwards, I helped my daughter do the nightly cleanse of her healing (Yay!) breast tumor wound and watched a movie with my husband. It was a nice night, but I sorta wished I was sitting in front of my laptop wrestling with my WIP.
Am I crazy?