I’ve given a lot of thought to themes during the process of revising my manuscript these last several months. Every well-written story has at least one, and often more than one theme. The interesting thing about theme is that it usually doesn’t reveal itself until you’ve finished the first draft. Only in the full read-through and revision process does the author begin to see what the story’s really all about. And so it was with me.
Oh sure, I had a story concept in mind when I began: Forced by finances to work on the legal team defending an abusive ex who is charged with murdering his heiress girlfriend, a freelance paralegal sets out to win the high-profile case that will put her business on the map. But is she willing to face the truth about her past in order to win the case that can ensure her future?
When I began writing, I knew how the story would start, I had devised a deliciously twisty ending, and I even knew a couple of surprises that were going to happen in the middle.
What I didn’t know until recently was what this story is about. (more…)
I’ve got a new addiction. #1LineWed on Twitter. All the cool kids are doing it.
One Line Wednesday, or #1LineWed as it’s hashtagged, trends every single week for hours and hours on end. Writers and readers alike have fallen in love with this very simple premise:
Each Wednesday, the Mystery/Romantic Suspense chapter of Romance Writers of America, also known as the Kiss of Death (KOD) chapter (Twitter handle @RWAKissOfDeath), declares a theme for the day. Writers and authors (of all genres, by the way) post one line of their book / poem / work-in-progress containing the theme word and hashtagged with #1LineWed. It’s great fun and, yes, more than just a tad addictive.
Bonus: If you’re a writer looking to build your tribe on social media, this is one terrific way to share your work with potential readers and fans, one line at a time.
In addition to my own #1LineWed posts, I make it a point to seek out the posts of others to like. (Simply type #1LineWed in the Twitter search bar.) The best of them I also retweet.
Bonus-Bonus: Many of those you like and retweet will follow you and like and retweet your posts, too. I love “meeting” and getting to know other writers this way!
Today’s theme was “Back.” Here are my posts, followed by some of my favorites by others today: (more…)
Life is funny. I’m a plug-and-play kind of gal living in a satellite TV vs. Netflix world. In our house, changing between the two is a complex process requiring multiple remotes and knowing which acronym is which (HDMI1? HDMI3?) before you can even begin to look for what you’d like to watch. Needless to say, I am rarely the one discovering interesting or obscure entertainment options.
But today we (and by “we,” I mean the hubs) found “B.B. King: The Life of Riley” on Netflix. And what a great find it was! One of the first things my husband and I realized we had in common when we met is our mutual love of American blues music. We are both long-time B.B. King fans.
But I digress. I wanted to talk about how life is funny sometimes. In the course of this two-hour gem of a documentary, I found out a couple of really interesting things I have in common with The King of the Blues himself: (more…)
The strangest coincidences turn up in my Facebook news feed sometimes. Yesterday, a friend shared a post by Bushmills Black Bush whiskey accompanied by the image below. I don’t drink BBB, but my protagonist’s grandmother has a special tea she prepares sometimes when Riley seeks out Gram’s advice. I was particularly intrigued by the “lost tiara” in the photo and thought this unexpected Message from the Universe might be telling me it’s time to publish another little snippet from the book. So here you go. (more…)
“Forever Marilyn” at Grounds for Sculpture
Marilyn was oblivious to the dead man lying beneath her billowing white dress. Jimmy St. Clair stared, sightless, up the skirt of the twenty-six-foot tall sculpture of the Hollywood icon.
Standing stock-still, I watched as a blur of dark blue uniforms surrounded Marilyn. One of them trained a big flashlight on Jimmy’s lifeless face, and I averted my eyes. The others searched the surrounding grass in ever-widening circles, crazy silver flashes of light crisscrossing in front of them.
Transfixed by the eerie scene, I gasped when a figure stepped out from the shadows on my left. “Riley?”
“Kate! What are you doing here?”
“We took a walk.” She wore Vince’s jacket, which she pulled tighter around her body as she spoke.
Vince materialized out of nowhere and put an arm around her. “We came around the bend and found him there,” he said, waving an arm in the direction of the body. “Gotta give it to ‘em, those cops got here in a heartbeat.”
Sirens still wailed in the distance, singing of reputations to be made and promotions to be earned.
The mist had intensified, laying down a glaze of moisture on my exposed skin. I picked my way over the damp grass and collapsed onto a long wooden bench under the canopy of trees.
“I know him,” I said to no one in particular.
Kate stared down at me, wide-eyed. “You know him? What do you mean, you know him?”
“He’s a client. His name is Jimmy St. Clair.”
I watched as two other uniforms — one a 40ish ex-military type, the other fresh out of the academy — conferred behind Marilyn’s left calf, doing their best to avoid the persistent drizzle that was already starting to wash away clues to Jimmy the Saint’s demise.