Bewildered Release Week and Giveaway! Day 4: The Story Behind Bewildered

It's day FOUR, already?! This week is flying by! We've been all over the web--meeting new people like The Southern Tablet, Beth Barany, and Liz Schulte, and finding out about the world of Bewilderness, meeting the illustrator, Angie Kwon, and the editor, Ev Bishop, and now it's my turn...

A friend once told me that every story has a story. It's so true. Today, it's my turn to tell you about Bewildered. Not about the story within, but the story behind it.

I began writing Bewildered in November of 2012 as part of a National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) challenge. The goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days—all during the month of November. At the time, I was struggling on a dark YA dystopian manuscript full of gruesome deaths and government conspiracy… and I was stuck. The NaNoWriMo challenge gave me the chance to take a breather and work on something totally different. Thus Bewildered was born.

The idea for the book hit me while sitting in traffic in August, GA. The car in front of me, a Ford Edge, combined with extreme boredom started a neurotransmitted "Super-Storm" wherein a ship fell over the edge of a mid-ocean waterfall and landed in another world. Essentially, melding my loves of Alice in Wonderland with the ocean in a watery rabbit hole—what? You don't think of pirates and imaginary worlds when you're staring into brake lights? I know I'm strange—it's ok.  Anyway, the first draft was named "Edge" and followed an unlikable girl (named Lula instead of Prudence) as she boarded the Unforgiven (then named the Silver Lady) and wound up 65,000 words of a wacky game called "What just happened?"

The rough draft was rough. In fact, I posted about it here. I had to give myself credit…I had done the previously unimagined—which is to say, wrote 65,000 words in one semi-cohesive tale with "the end" on the final page. But it needed a lot of work. So much, in fact, that I nearly tossed it in the trash. Luckily, a friend (thank you Shammy!) read it and convinced me to keep going, that it just needed editing.

Spoiler alert, I did keep going. But quickly gave up on editing what I had written—it was too messy to make sense of. Instead, I rewrote it. From page one. I put the 4-pound copy from Staples in a dark drawer to gather dust while I "retold" the story. A Purple Wizard became the old man with violet eyes, the Destiny Express surprised me, appearing in its magical splendor, and some of my favorite characters such as the Fabrikator and February walked onto the pages. Some elements persisted—Prudence always fell into Bewilderness, and the themes of the book: "believing isn't always seeing," and "trust the heart", were there from the start. In a page-by-page comparison, however, there was hardly anything left of the first draft. One of these days, I'll have to post a before and after comparison…

A lot of people ask if the book was plotted out before I started—and knowing it's the first in a series, I get asked if I know how it's going to end. The truth is: no. I don't have a clue. I believe that the story is there, and if I listen, it will reveal itself. More like the way an archeologist unearths an ancient city—the scenes unfold one at a time and always leave me guessing. Perhaps it would be easier if I plotted it out—I've tried actually—but in the end, the story never turns out the way I expect it too. My muse is stubborn that way.

The road was bumpy. Between fits of self-doubt, children jumping on my keyboard, and tons of shiny things to distract me, getting though the process took all my will power. And now, after all that, the cycle has started over again with book two…then three…then—well you get the idea. But you know, I love every moment of it!

Tomorrow is the last day of the Bewildered Release Tour! My friend and fellow author, Michelle Lowery Combs, will be posting a review and interview on her page tomorrow! The giveaway continues there too (one of the prizes is actually a paperback copy of her book, Heir to the Lamp!)

*the giveaway is at the bottom of the post: a l l  t h e  w a y  d o w n . . .*

Share the word! And from the bottom of my Paper Heart, thanks for reading, following, and sharing the news of Bewildered. 

BEWILDERED

A Bewilderness Tale, Book One

Prudence Parks is perfect. At twelve-years old, she has the world in her pocket. No messy friends. No silly games. Everything is just right—until her father leaves her an orphan. 

When she tumbles into a bizarre realm known as Bewilderness, nothing is as it should be. Insects talk, pirate ships sail on sand, and plants are just plain evil. After she’s banished for claiming to be human, she thinks the worst is behind her. She’s wrong. The Match King, posing as an ally, promises to send her home if she can find the Paper Heart, an ancient treasure. Battling her sense of logic all the while, she meets a living ragdoll and her father’s doppelganger, who melts her icy heart and—to her regret—gives the Match King perfect collateral to ensure she follows through. 

Prudence realizes the Match King’s plan to erase Bewilderness from existence, but now she must choose: save the world she has come to love, or find her way home.

BEWILDERED is a middle grade fantasy novel geared toward children ages 9-12. It’s Alice in Wonderland meets Miracle on 34th Street. Set once upon a time in a land far, far away, this story illustrates the importance of friendship, courage, and proves believing isn't always seeing.

Purchase it online at your favorite retailer, or visit your local bookstore!

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iTunes | Smashwords | IndieBound | The Book Depository | Books-a-Million

About the Author

A. B. Harms was born a writer. From a young age, she made her own picture books with crayons and a stapler. As a teenager, she won essay contests. Yet, when she began her career, being an author was the last thing she considered. Finally, after working every job imaginable from waitress to social worker and earning her degree in Psychology, she realized what she was always meant to do--write!

A. B. is from Missouri, has gone around the world and back again, and now lives in Louisville, Kentucky with her family, a pet sloth, who resembles a Great Dane, and a black cat, who moonlights as an assassin. No matter where she hangs her hat, she finds herself at home down the rabbit hole.

And finally, what you've all been scrolling for... 

THE GIVEAWAY! ENTER RIGHT HERE FOLKS! HURRY HURRY HURRY!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BEWILDER-Palooza Finale: CHAPTER ONE!!

Well, folks, this has been a tremendous week. A week of fantastic art. A week of quirky characters. A week of straight-up fun!

You've seen the cover reveal, met some of the good guys: Prudence, the Fabrikator, February, RePeter, and even the bad guys: Captain Bleak, the Mayor, and the notorious Match King! 

Thank you all so much for joining me during BEWILDER-Palooza, but don't worry! There's going to be more fun when Bewildered releases!

Until then, please enjoy the first chapter...

...and don't forget to get enter the drawing for a free ebook- you have until midnight tonight! *at bottom of post

Presenting...

*SAMPLE*

Written by A. B. Harms

Illustrated by Angie Kwon

CHAPTER ONE

In which Prudence Receives an Ill-Fated Telegram

Professor Pinochle's wriggly hand scrawled a collection of markings on the blackboard at the front of his class of twelve-year-olds. The students moved uncomfortably in their seats, and beads of sweat sprouted from their brows. It seemed Professor Pinochle lived under the illusion he still taught mathematics at the university instead of at a small private school for girls. After five minutes of chilling squeaks and rapid chalk scratching, he turned toward the class, his face covered in white dust, his eyes looking as large as plums through his bottle-glass lenses.

"I need a volunteer," he warbled in his ancient voice.

A perfectly manicured hand shot into the air. The class groaned. The only thing worse than Professor P's intense calculations was the student who never missed a chance to show off her brilliance. A girl whom everyone knew but nobody liked.

Prudence Parks.

"My prized pupil, do come forward." Professor Pinochle couldn't hide his pride; his chest puffed out with it. He considered himself quite the educator, though Prudence was the only student he hadn't thoroughly confused. With a smirk, Prudence nearly skipped toward the blackboard.

Professor Pinochle took the time to make the class dislike her a little bit more. "Take note, girls. Keep up with your studies and perhaps you can be like Prudence one day."

"And make everyone want to vomit," someone whispered.

But Prudence didn't hear, and neither did Professor P, who was too busy watching his shining star work the mile-long equation with ease. Thirty seconds later, Prudence was on her way to her seat, her nose too high in the air to notice her classmate's foot crossing the aisle.

Boom. Down went Prudence. "Ouch!" She scrambled up, rubbing her knees where they'd slammed into the wooden floor.

"Oops, sorry. Accident," a girl with bright-yellow curls said with a grin. The other girls snickered.

"Prudence, are you okay?" asked Professor Pinochle, who had missed the whole thing.

Prudence glared at the girl. She knew it hadn't been an accident. This kind of thing happened all the time. Gum magically got stuck in her silky black hair, her shoestrings miraculously tied themselves together under the dining table, and inkwells couldn't help but spill over her freshly pressed dresses.

Always, she heard the same line: "Oops. It was an accident." No, it wasn't. It was on purpose because everyone was jealous. She hadn't asked to be perfect, but it was a responsibility she took seriously. Though it won her no friendships, Prudence was proud as peaches of her genius and wouldn't trade it for the world.

Besides, today was special. Today her father was coming home.

"I'm fine, Professor. Just clumsy." She glared at the curly headed girl and took her seat. As she admired her handiwork on the board, the x's and decimals in all the right places, she beamed. No amount of "accidents" would bother her today.

It had been months since her father had left for the deserts of Africa, but she was used to his absences by now. He—Orville Parks—was a writer and adventurer, and when he got it into his head to do something, nothing could deter him. His latest quest? To find the Sandman.

"There's no such thing as the Sandman, Father," Prudence had told him. She suspected he was crazy, but that didn't make her love him any less.

"We'll see about that," he had replied, his blue eyes sparkling. Though they had the same eye color, her father's eyes had some quality Prudence never saw in her own reflection. What it was, she could never figure out. Eyes were eyes, weren't they?

"It's fairy dust," he told her. She always shook her head at that. How silly could someone be? There were no such things as fairies. Or giants, or pixies, or talking animals. Some things just didn't exist, and the world was fine without them. But still he had left her, in search of something that wasn't even real. As always when saying good-bye, he'd kissed her on the forehead, once on each cheek, then on the tip of her nose, and recited, "My heart, my soul, and even my skin, I'll be broken until we're together again."

She was broken, too. Like a little part of her heart was missing, and though it could still beat and pump her blood as it was supposed to, there was always a tiny ache deep inside. Thankfully, it would feel normal again soon. And just in the nick of time, too. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand undiluted time with Mrs. Godfrey, her plump and excitable nanny. Mrs. Godfrey meant well, Prudence knew, but still, she was worse than Prudence's father—blaming late-night creaks on ghosts, missing socks on gremlins, and her stories of wish-granting fish? Well, it was all more than Prudence could bear most days.

"Ms. Parks?" Professor Pinochle said, "Prudence Parks!"

Prudence started. The room was empty. Had she been daydreaming? Her cheeks went hot at the very idea.

"Class is dismissed," he said, clearly annoyed.

"Yes, of course. Good day, Professor." Prudence scooped up her books and left the room with as much dignity as she could muster. Finally it was time to go home.

Ah, home. Where she could be herself. Where she hung her clothes according to weather and hue. Where her dressing table held her grooming tools in the order she used them each day. Home. Where even her plate was a place of order with exactly the right amount of food from each of the food groups, never mixing, and always eaten in clockwise order.

Prudence stepped into the foyer, which was much quieter than usual, and went down the hallway. Mrs. Godfrey was at the large wooden table in the breakfast nook, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with a scrap of paper. Prudence tried to tiptoe past. Probably some neighborhood news had sent her into a tizzy. Or maybe her prized roses had been used as a litter box again.

Prudence knew better than to get involved, but the woman's eyes missed nothing. Mrs. Godfrey rushed to the doorway and clutched Prudence to her oversized bosom.

"Oh, Prudy . . . " She could barely speak as she handed over a soggy telegram. In Mrs. Godfrey's suffocating embrace, Prudence read the message.

Prudence twinged. "This can't be right. No, Mrs. Godfrey. It's a mistake."

Her father? Dead? It didn't make sense. But her nanny only cried louder.

In her room, she assured herself he would be back in three hours, as scheduled, and her routine would go on as usual. French on Friday, study sessions all day Saturday, and a father/daughter picnic at the park on Sunday.

Three hours came and went. Then a day. And another. Still, her father didn't come.

Prudence moved about her life in a trance. Professor Pinochle couldn't rouse her from her seat, no matter how difficult his equations became. She didn't notice when she drank salt in her tea instead of sugar, much to her classmates' dismay. Then on Sunday, instead of sitting on a blanket while her father reenacted his adventures, she followed Mrs. Godfrey around the market in a confused and awkward silence. Four days passed.

On the fifth day, Prudence paced in her room. She stared at her personal library, not seeing the thousands of books. There was no pleasure in riding the ladder around the perimeter of the shelves. Even the Prudence-shaped imprint in her favorite study chair couldn't make her feel right. Everything was . . . off.

The staff bustled in, out, and around. They hung white sheets over the handcrafted wooden furniture and packed a trunk on Prudence's behalf, which sat leering at her from the middle of the floor like a dark stranger. Where was he? Why hadn't he come back?

The house became a revolving door of weepy-eyed visitors offering head pats and "poor little dears." Words like "condolences" and "loss" were uttered in hushed tones. But Prudence wasn't pitiful. She was too strong for that! She was angry. How could something frail and papery cause so much destruction?

That witless telegram. How dare it presume anything!

She was forced to skip Latin class on Monday to sit in a depressing parlor filled with portraits of her father and listen to people she rarely saw as they spoke of his greatness.

Not great. Selfish, that's what he was. If he were great, he wouldn't have left her. He would have come back.

By the time she missed chess on Tuesday, she was furious—but things were going to get worse.

In a law office downtown that reeked of furniture polish and hair oil, Prudence sat in a cold leather chair and was informed that, with no living relatives, she had to leave her house of bricks and sensible cream rugs to live in a home for foundling children.

An orphanage? Prudence's fuming mind pictured unruly monsters with frayed hair and unkempt dress, fighting over bowls of gruel.

Her life, her home, and her perfect schedule were ripped away. In her mind, her screams shattered glass, but outwardly she was stone. Without a word or so much as a solitary tear, she accepted a passenger ticket and a small, rectangular box wrapped in brown paper—her only inheritance.

***The End of Chapter One***

Thank you for joining me this week for BEWILDER-Palooza! Look for the release of the ebook by 2/14/14 and the print versions (hardback and paperback) by 2/28/14.

NOOK OWNERS:

SPECIAL NEWS!

For a limited time only, you can PRE-ORDER the eBook version of "Bewildered" for $0.99 at the following retailers:

Barnes and Noble

BEWILDERED

A Bewilderness Tale, Book One

Release Date: February 2014.

PRICE: 3.99

Enter to win an ebook copy! Contest ends at midnight tonight, 1/24/14!! 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BEWILDER-Palooza!!! Day 4: REPETER

"She knew RePeter wasn't her father, 

but he really was the next best thing." ~Bewildered, chapter 25

RePeter. He's a doppelganger.

From the moment we meet Prudence, she's pining for her father. As much as his wiley antics make her eyes roll, she loves her father more than she'd ever admit aloud. When she gets the telegram about his death, she's devastated and winding up in Bewilderness only makes Prudence feel worse.

But then she crosses paths with RePeter, and who is he but her father--Orville Peter Parks's--doppelganger!

With the exception of their eye-color, the two are practically twins. One from our world, and the other from Bewilderness. They share a lot in common, especially their love for Prudence. As soon as Prudence finds RePeter, she's torn. Does she continue searching for the Paper Heart to get home...or does she abandon the Match King's quest and stay with RePeter in Bewilderness forever? It's a tough choice, to be certain. What will she do? You'll have to read to find out!

Check out the cover reveal from Friday's post, and in case you haven't already, meet Prudence, the Fabrikator, and sweet little February. Don't forget to come back tomorrow to meet a couple of the "bad guys": Captain Bleak and the Mayor!

BEWILDERED

A Bewilderness Tale, Book One

Release Date: February 2014.

PRICE: 3.99

SPECIAL NEWS!

For a limited time only, you can PRE-ORDER the eBook version of "Bewildered" for $0.99 at the following retailers:

Barnes and Noble

Enter to win an ebook copy! 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BEWILDERED: COVER REVEAL and more...!

Today is THE DAY!!! 

A day to fulfill promises and offer surprises. Are you ready?

Perhaps you've been waiting as long as I have, or perhaps you have heard of A. B. Harms (me) or BEWILDERED for the very first time. No matter--you have arrived at just the right moment. Because this is a pivotal time, the crossing of a threshold, a time of transformation, because this is the exact moment when...

SURPRISE!!
BEWILDERED'S COVER IS REVEALED!

Oh, you thought I'd just post it right here? I will, I will. But first, let me tell you, there's...

A SECOND SURPRISE!

I know, I know. And if that wasn't tantalizing enough, there's....

A THIRD SURPRISE!!!

That's how much I love you all...and Bewildered! So, let's get on with the show. 

Lights. Camera. ACTION!

BEWILDERED is a middle-grade fantasy novel, the first to be set in the wild world of Bewilderness. It's packed with action, adventure, odd-ball characters, and of course, MAGIC! Here--read the blurb!

Prudence Parks is perfect. At twelve years old, she has the world in her pocket. No messy friends. No silly games. Everything is just right—until her father leaves her an orphan. 

When she tumbles into a bizarre realm, known as Bewilderness, nothing is as it should be. Insects talk, pirate ships sail on sand, and plants are just plain evil. After she’s banished for claiming to be human, she thinks the worst is behind her. She’s wrong. The Match King, posing as an ally, promises to send her home if she can find the Paper Heart, an ancient treasure. Battling her sense of logic all the while, she meets a living ragdoll and her father’s doppelganger, who melts her icy heart and—to her regret—gives the Match King perfect collateral to ensure she follows through. 

Prudence realizes the Match King’s plan to erase Bewilderness from existence, but now she must choose: save the world she has come to love, or find her way home.

Sounds pretty fun, amiright!

After over a year of writing and some serious editing, I teamed up with Angie Kwon, who, by the way, is not only a kick-butt artist, but a total sweetheart, and FINALLY saw my dear Bewildered in living color. Now so can you...!

I present....

[drumroll........]

THE COVER...

OF THE MUCH ANTICIPATED...

BEWILDERED!!

A BEWILDERNESS TALE, BOOK ONE

TA-DA!

Ohmygosh! Isn't it wonderful!! There's Prudence right there in the front, and then her entourage: The Fabrikator, RePeter, and of course, dear little February (you'll meet them, don't worry). They're all just PERFECT! 

Ahhhhhh...I never get tired of staring at this, can ya' tell?

Angie did such an amazing job stuffing as much imagery and meaning into one little rectangle, it just boggles my mind...

See those clockwork bugs? Yeah- they have meaning.

See that raven? Yep- you'll meet him too.

The locket around Prudence's neck? The color of the sky? Yes, yes, all in the story. And if you have super-fantastic-CSI sight, check out the ring on the Fabrikator's finger...I'll give you a second...

It's a pin cushion, with teensy-tiny pins! Yessir, it's in the story. I'm telling you, Angie Kwon is superawesomesauce. Let it be known to all.

Ah, now we can get on to...

BIG SURPRISE NUMBER TWO!

You've read the blurb, you've seen the cover, and now you wonder:

WHEN CAN I GET MY PAWS ON IT???

In honor of our FEBURARY, the adorable living-ragdoll, BEWILDERED will be released in all it's many formats (ebook, paperback, and hardcover) from all major (and lots of not-as-major) online retailers (Amazon, Smashwords, iTunes, Sony, Barnes and Noble, KOBO, Flipkart, and more!) during the month of...

FEBRUARY 2014

*that's next month, yo!*

NOOK OWNERS:

SPECIAL NEWS!

For a limited time only, you can PRE-ORDER the eBook version of "Bewildered" for $0.99 at the following retailers:

Barnes and Noble

OK...I know, I know. I said there was a third surprise, and what kind of "cover reveal hostess" would I be if I didn't offer....DOOR PRIZES!

BIG SURPRISE NUMBER THREE!

BEWILDERED EBOOK GIVEAWAY!!

Because it is better to give than receive, I am running a giveaway all this week in celebration of Bewildered!

Though Rafflecopter, you can win an ebook copy of Bewildered!

Entering is easy, just use the Rafflecopter thingamajig below and boom! you could win this amazing book!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

this party lasts all week long...

Now that you've seen the beauty of the outside, I want to share some of the inside! Every day for the next SEVEN DAYS, I'll post a about a different character--and as a grand finale, on day seven, I'll post the first chapter!
*Follow these links to meet the characters, and even read the first chapter!
The good guys: Prudence, the Fabrikator, February, RePeter
The bad guys: Captain Bleak, the Mayor, and the notorious Match King! 

Wow. 

I need a nap.

Thank you to my daughter, Beatrix, for helping me with this important announcement. <3

The Raven's Last Supper

Source

Upon a thick gnarled branch sat a raven. He was a handsome bird, and not without his faults. His two main vices were: eating berries and thinking too much of himself. The berries he loved the most were inside the landscaped gardens of the large white house on the hill. The people who lived there disliked him very much, and had laid many traps for him to stop his berry eating. But the raven was as smart as he was handsome and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't stop him from stealing the delicious, juicy fruit.

On one occasion, the people had placed a bowl of the sweet berries inside a large birdcage. The raven found the test irresistible. With one strong wing, the raven kept the door lifted as he slurped the berries into his gullet, then sat hidden in the branches of the tall oak bemused as he saw the people examine the empty cage and bowl, scratching their heads in disbelief.

Another time, they installed a fine mesh net over the bushes. After his sharp talons shredded the net, he ate more than his fill out of pure spite. He barely managed to lift his haughty frame into the air as a shovel came whizzing past his head, swung by the lady of the house, who had been gardening nearby. It had been close, to be certain. But as he slowly digested his meal and shined his black feathers with his stout beak, he smiled. The people would never outwit him.

On a particularly fine day, while gazing at his reflection in the still waters of the pond, that aching feeling came over him. Hunger. And when the raven was hungry, there was only one thing to eat- the sweet, red, juicy, delicious berries in the yard.  Over the tops of the trees the raven flew, silhouetted against an azure sky, his mouth watered in anticipation.

From the air, he spotted the bush. It was extra full, nearly folded over with its tasty crop. He dropped lower to the ground, looking for what he was sure would be there- a trap, a puzzle, a new-fangled contraption- something which the people would foolishly believe could stop him, and which he would undoubtedly overcome. But, there was nothing.

The raven drew closer to the ground, still circling. There was no cage, no net, no trip wires, no tape, no sticks, not a single thing standing between him and his supper.

“They’ve given up.” He cawed with glee. “They’ve learned that there’s no stopping a genius raven like me.” A moment later, he was tail-feathers deep in the bush, munching on the berries without a care in the world.

So busy was he, that he didn’t notice the sleek, black fur parting the grass.

So busy was he, that he didn’t see the large, round pupils or long, black whiskers below.

So full of conceit was he, that he didn’t ponder for a moment why the songbirds had all gone quiet.

With a pounce and a momentary rustle of leaves, the berries were safe, and someone other than the raven, was contentedly full from lunch.

COVER REVEAL!!...THE DEFIANCE by A. G. Henley

EEEEK!! Today I have the honor of showcasing the cover reveal for an up-and-coming author in the YA genre, A. G. Henley. Her first novel, The Scourge (Brilliant Darkness Book #1) came out last year. I contacted A. G. when I became interested in indie publishing. Since then, she has been a source of advice, support, and an all-around awesome person to know.

Besides being a total sweetie, her story-telling ability is A-MA-ZING. Fennel's voice, the complex characters, and the gritty and dangerous world of survivors she has created in this series make this tale one of a kind.

Without further ado, here is the beautiful cover and intro to the undoubtedly suspenseful, lovely, and compelling sequel, The Defiance!

Drum roll please......

COMING JULY 29, 2013

THE DEFIANCE (Brilliant Darkness, #2)

Suspicion Trust. Fear Compassion. Hate Love.

Fennel and Peree learned the truth: the Scourge, and their world, is not what it seems. Now they need to convince their people that everything they believe is a lie.

An impossible task, especially when someone seems resolved to try anything—even arson and butchery—to destroy Fenn and Peree’s new bond and crush the frail truce between the Groundlings and the Lofties.

Unable to tell friend from foe and with the Scourge pushing both groups to the breaking point, Fenn must again decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice to ensure the people of the forest’s future.

Only this time, the price of peace may be too high to bear.

The Defiance Publication Date: July 29th, 2013

While you're waiting for book 2, take the time to read The Scourge, Book 1 of the Brilliant Darkness series, available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. It won't take you long, I promise. I couldn't put it down!

Author Bio:

A.G. Henley is the author of the BRILLIANT DARKNESS series. Her first book, THE SCOURGE, was a finalist for the 2013 Next Generation Indie Book Award.

A.G. is also a clinical psychologist, which means people either tell her their life stories on airplanes, or avoid her at parties when they've had too much to drink. Neither of which she minds. When she's not writing fiction or shrinking heads, she can be found herding her children and their scruffy dog, Guapo, to various activities while trying to remember whatever she's inevitably forgotten to tell her husband. She lives in Denver, Colorado. Learn more at aghenley.com 

Author Links:

Website | Facebook | Goodreads

Work to Live or Live to Work?

I want to be a...

When we're looking at the world from the backseat window of our parent's car, the world is our proverbial oyster, "What do we want to be when we grow up?" We try our futures on like costumes. I want to be a ballerina, no. A scientist. No. A Rock N' Roll Star!

No one says, I want to grow up and hate my job. Yet, as adults, many of us do just that. We work to live, not the other way around.

Then there's those select few who, even if it wasn't what they thought they'd do, love their work. I've had a job like this. It came out of left field, a job I thought would bore me to tears, but ended up being my favorite job of all time. Why? Because it mentally challenged me and because the people I worked with were pleasant and fun to be around. But was working in a college financial aid office what I was meant to do?

If I'm going to keep my head in the clouds, at least there's a restaurant up here.

My personal goal has always been to have a job I enjoy- didn't care what it was, if I enjoyed the hours at work, I was thrilled. Most of the time, this meant a more enjoyable job over a higher paying one. Nowadays, this philosophy doesn't always help. My resume is a potpourri ranging from social worker to custom art framer to waitress. There's no clear-cut path there. My experience is all zig-zagged- less like an arrow and more like the haphazard way a wasp makes its way through your house- everyone's ducking and god only knows where it'll land. For some reason, employers don't always want to pay top-dollar for that level of expertise. Hm? But now that I have a family, I can't always have my cake in the shade. My choices don't just affect my weekend but the lives of 3 tiny people.

Last year, I decided to be a writer. Through the past 11 months, I have learned a lot about myself and have finally realized what I'm meant to do. It was there the whole time, and until I was 33, I didn't see it. However, my days of clocking-in may not be behind me, after all it takes a long time to build a career for any self-employed profession and there are mouths to feed and bills to pay along the way. BUT I truly believe writing is what I meant to do.

How do we know?

Me and sis and our sweet punch embroidery shirts circa 1985ish

When I was a kid, I played the flute. I wanted to play the violin, but not only are violins crazy expensive, but the flute was before the violin in the sample-an-instrument line the summer before I entered the 5th grade. When there's a million kids and you're hungry, sacrifices must be made. (I'm certain my mother has a different memory of this than I do.) In any case, I was pretty decent at playing that stick. I could toot up a storm and I participated in band every year until I was a sophomore in high school. But, did I practice willingly? No. Did I get mad and frustrated and wish I was the Hulk so I could knot that baby up? Yes. Did I ever want to go pro? Bwahahaha! (No.) Was I meant to be a musician? I afraid not.

It's all good. I tried lots of things out, that's the fun of life. Think you'll like photography? Try it out, take a class, live it for a while. Maybe you'll catch that elusive flame inside that burns for one thing and never dies. Or maybe you'll want to shove your camera down the trash compactor because it never catches what you see in your mind's eye. (A sure-fire sign you should keep searching for your true calling.) But don't despair, if you keep trying, you'll find what you're meant to do. And in the meantime, you can have fun sampling. Life is to be lived.

"warning face punch"

TRY ON ALL THE HATS!

The thing that we're meant to do helps us cope with life, it compliments us, and we do it whether or not we get paid to.  We make sacrifices to ensure we have the resources to do it. We make it a priority over and over. And no matter what happens in life, we always come back to that one thing. And it's not always the thing that we want it to be. We have to be honest with ourselves, which is sometimes the hardest part. Because if we try to force ourselves to be something we're not, we'll never be truly happy.

In short, we live to do it and we do it to live.

Writing is not work for me. It is my job. And sometimes it comes easier than others. But no matter what, I look forward to my writing time. I do not look at my day and try to stack everything up in front of my writing so I can't get to it. I don't bang on my computer and wish my writing time was over already. I cherish every moment I have and if someday I'm able to make a living at it, I will thank my lucky stars and God for helping me find my true love.

What do you think? Have you found your calling? Is it worth it to do what you love over making more money? Either way, I'd love to hear from you!

Up, up and awaaaaay!

Say What? How to Make Your Writing Clearer

Image courtesy of digitalart at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

As a parent, of small children, I'm constantly trying to make myself heard and understood. Also, like most parents, I'm constantly repeating the words, "no," "don't," "stop," and-- "I already said no!"

Then one day I heard this piece of advice. Children hear you better if you speak in the positive. Huh? What kind of loony new age thing is this?

Basically, it's a way to phrase yourself. Instead of saying, "don't run with a sharp ax", you say, "walk." Instead of saying "don't touch my house of cards," say, "keep your hands down."

Image courtesy of Boaz Yiftach at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

So I tried it. And it worked! (when they follow directions, that is) My goal became clear, I have a quarter second of their attention and who knows what I'll be saying when that 1/4 second comes around, so every word has to convey the right idea. If I say "no running" and all they hear is "running," guess who is going to keep running? That's right. But if I say "walk", then we have no issue.

We should always strive to make ourselves easily understood as parents, writers, people. Writers, like parents, also have precious few moments to urge our audience to move forward in the story and wasted words are a great way to wear them out before we get to the punchline.

Image courtesy of Maggie Smith at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

There are a few subtle ways to clean up your writing to convey the story so the writing is clean, comprehensible, and easily digested. After all, we want our audience to get lost in our words, not wonder why there's so many unnecessary ones.

First, use the positive form. When you're writing, make your statements assertive. Using the negative form of writing sounds weaker, less committed.

Example: He was not usually the good looking one.  Change it to: He was usually the ugly one. See how it changes the tone?

Second, use an active voice. Like the positive form, this is clearer and has more of an impact. You want your writing to turn heads, not fuel naps.

Example (and one from my own personal manuscript- oops):
Her clothes were hung according to weather and hue. The clothes are the doing the action here- lame and darn near impossible. Change it to: She hung her clothes according to weather and hue.

Third, get rid of the really, really, just there because you'd use it in real life words. Just because you say it when you're on the phone with your sister doesn't mean it should be written that way.

Example: The guy with the really cool bike was so rich. Unless you're like, writing the screen play for Clueless II, let's not. Change to: The guy with the custom Harley was a billionaire.

Fourth, KILL the adverbs. This is like a game. Find an adverb, wield your 'delete' button or red pen like a sword, and KILL IT! But, you need the adverb? Then your verb isn't strong enough on its own. Find a better one.

Example: She snottily stuck out her tongue as he walked away. You don't have to tell us she's snotty. The action tells us that. Simply omit the adverb. Or, if there was an unusual way she did it, with hatred or malice, show it in the verb, such as: She stabbed out her tongue as he walked away. Ouch.

This is a short list of things that can make your writing transition from convoluted to clear. In every story, there are things to consider when you make edits. Style, dramatic effect, character traits, and using vocabulary and writing style are just a couple of your tools for manipulating these elements.

One thing to consider, and the exception to nearly every rule, is dialog. When characters are speaking, these rules are often broken, for good cause. If it is part of our character's personality, then perhaps the rules must be broken to allow the reader to understand their nuances. And that's okay.

Ultimately, we have the power and right to scribe whatever words we want onto the paper. No lightening will strike, your English teacher will not rap on your door and give your manuscript an F. But, for those of us that enjoy reaching our readers, these elements help them see past the words to the story that inspired them.

For more tips, please read the small, digestible, and infinitely helpful tool, The Elements of Style, by William Strunk, Jr. and E. B. White.