Writers in the Storm

By Sharla Rae Writers live, eat and breathe writing, but imagination and creativity is something that migrates into every aspect of our lives. Here, under the topic of Other Obsessions I’m pleased to talk about one of my other obsessions. My doll collection.    I love my collection because it’s not the usual type with only antiques, Barbies or artist dolls. I collect dolls from all over the world in their native costumes, many handmade. That’s not to say that I don’t have a few of the other types. I do. Another thing that makes the collection unique is that like my writing, it’s from the heart. While some of the dolls are quite valuable now, value or potential value isn’t how I choose them. If a doll touches something inside me, they earn a home in my doll cabinet. Like old and familiar friends, each and every one has its own story. Some, I admit have been gifts from friends who know me and my collection well, but most have arrived via my travels. My husband started the whole thing. He’s Chinese and one day in the autumn of our first year of marriage, he took me shopping at an Asian grocery in Des Moines, Iowa. Amidst the cans of lychee and bamboo shoots, I spied a beautiful Korean doll sitting all by herself. Something about her made me smile and want to dance. She’s in a sitting position with a long string instrument across her lap, and her dainty, individually-sewn cloth fingers lay on the strings. The store owner said she was a wedding singer. Believe it or not, I didn’t purchase the doll. I’ve always been practical and like most newlyweds hubby and I watched our pennies. But a couple months later on Christmas morning, there she was, my first Christmas present from my husband. He’d remembered, and he couldn’t have given me anything I would’ve liked better. I now think of my little wedding singer as the First Lady of my collection which has grown to around 180 dolls representing 44 countries. These include, of course, a few novelties like my Star Trek Barbies, a few antiques and art dolls. I’ll probably be talking about particular dolls once in a while. But right now, I’m going to relax on the sofa with a cup of chamomile tea and imagine great romances for a couple of them. I wonder . . . Is there a mysterious hero hidden behind the one with the ghastly African mask over his face?

The First Lady

By Charlotte Carter  If you’re a writer, sooner or later you’re going to have to pitch your book to an agent or editor. If nothing else, you want to be able to tell your spouse/sibling/co-worker what you’re writing.  And you need to keep it short. All of the above have a very short attention span. Naturally, I have some suggestions that should help you.  First, buy Lori Wilde’s “Conquering the High Concept,” which is available at her Web site: www.LoriWilde.com  ($25 U.S.) Her book is designed to help writers when creating a new story, but it works fine after your story is written. Using her techniques, you’ll come up with a 25-word ‘log line’ describing your story. (Even my brother can pay attention that long.)  Or you can use Dwight Swain’s technique found in Techniques of a Seller Author. Every story has 5 basic elements:

1. Focal character
2. Situation - what moves the character to change
3. Objective or goal
4. Opponent - person, force or any antagonist
5. Disaster - what threatens your character or his goal.

Putting these 5 elements together you can come up with a paragraph that tells your story. Here’s the result I got when developing my pitch for Montana Hearts, my December 2010 inspirational romance from Love Inspired.  A heart transplant recipient travels to Montana to thank her donor family and falls in love with the organ donor’s widower. But does he love her for herself or because he believes his late wife’s heart beats in her chest? That’s it. No extra details. A quick pitch I can do in an elevator (while traveling only a floor or two). The key is brevity. Don’t ramble. Don’t go on so long the editor (or your brother) glazes over.  Hope this helps. Good luck! Charlotte Carter Books from Love Inspired      Montana Hearts, December 2010      Big Sky Reunion, May 2011  Visit my blog:  www.CharlotteCarter.com

By Laura Drake Gary and I had been training for three months, so I had mixed feelings about finally attempting my first organized Century bicycle ride (100 miles in a day.)   On one hand, I was looking forward to not having to spend 8-10 hours a week on that darned bike seat, and was getting behind in chores around the house.  On the other hand, I was dreading it… I had serious doubts about my ability.  How embarrassing would it be not to make it after telling everyone what my goal was?  No such fears for Gary, as he could do this with very little sweat. We decided to spend the night before in Poway, so we would be at the starting line in plenty of time.  After a huge Italian dinner (one of the advantages - you can eat whatever you want the day before the ride) and a good night’s sleep, we were up at 4:30.  I had planned on a big breakfast, but found that I was too nervous to eat much.  When we got to Old Poway Park it was still dark, but the place was soon hopping with 1500 bicyclists.  Who knew there were THAT many crazy people in Southern California?  There didn’t seem to be an official start; no gun going off, or cheering….we just inserted ourselves into the huge herd of bikes on the road.  Police were directing traffic through town and it sure was nice to have someone to stop cars so we didn’t have to wait at intersections.  Within a mile and a half the dreaded “Poway Grade” began.  They’d closed off one of the lanes to traffic for the ride.    4 miles of 9% grade…ugh.  The good news was that we’d come down the weekend before and I tackled the hill, so at least I knew I could do this part!  I hadn’t done it elbow to elbow with 1500 of my closest friends however.  It was scary to be clipped into the bike with people either whizzing by me at close proximity or lugging ahead of me slowly.  I was so hyper alert that I didn’t even notice that the hill was hard!  On to the next 96 miles.  We were lucky with the weather; overcast and a high of 80 degrees.  Gary’s dust wasn’t even visible; I wasn’t sure if I’d seen the last of him for the day – I knew he was up testing his testosterone level against a bunch of young riders at the front.  As the riders spread out, I had a chance to look around.  The land is beautiful: rolling hills, trees overhanging the road, and gated estates.  We went by the Wild Animal Park, Legoland, a thoroughbred racetrack, the ocean.  It’s funny, I only remember “snapshots” of most of the ride; I think the rest of it I was concentrating on the road, traffic and my level of energy (or lack thereof).  The motorcycling skills paid off going downhill, as I was able to whiz along while others heated up their brakes and slowed down.  Saw one wreck along the downhill…a guy had been going too fast to take a turn, and he went off the road - CHP was on the scene.  That slowed everyone down! I caught up with Gary at the rest stops, where he’d waited to be sure I was okay.  He was so happy he was giggling, and by the third one I was a little “testy.”  Okay, to tell the truth, I was snapping at him like a woman in labor.  The last 25 miles were seen through a haze of pain: legs, lungs, and butt.  They had advertised the ride as having 4500 feet of climb, and I kept looking down at the ascent display on my bike computer every few minutes, and when we passed 4500 feet, we still had twenty miles to go.  I thought to myself, “Oh good, now the rest will be downhill – I can do this!”   The the road kept climbing.  At 5000 feet, I realized we’d been duped!  Then I really got bitter.  The route took us along the freeway on a bike trail, with retaining walls on both sides.  We were climbing endless hills, and it was HOT!  We finally rolled back into Poway and I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw the city limits sign.  Gary was ahead, but keeping fairly close at that point, and stopped me from taking a shortcut 3 miles from the end.  Boy he was lucky he was out of earshot from then on!  To Gary’s chagrin, we finished in the bottom third of the riders (obviously not due to HIS lack of ability!).  I was just happy to have finished, and to pull the seat out of my butt.  I hobbled to where they were serving food and sat as far from anyone else as I could….I stunk!  You can’t imagine how filthy you get – You’re slathered in suntan lotion, which picks up road grime and seven hours worth of sweat.  I wanted to burn the clothes I wore, regardless if I was still in them or not. When I got off the bike, Gary said, “Wasn’t that fun?!” He looked so happy that I didn’t hit him.  But I did lay out some ground rules: I didn’t want to hear the word “fun” again, I didn’t want to talk about the ride, or what ride we were doing next, or even LOOK at the bike for at least a week.  By that time I figure the last 25 miles will have faded like the pain of childbirth – or at least that’s my fondest hope.  Final mileage: 104.  Final total ascent: 5700 feet. Am I glad I did it?  Yeah.  Am I going to do it again?  Not sure…it hasn’t been a week yet!