Guest blog
Writing Rituals/Superstitions
Thank you for having me as your guest today. I have been asked to talk about my writing rituals/superstitions. When I saw this request, I have to admit I laughed. The first thing that came to my mind was Mimi from the Drew Carey show at a Bingo Night, with all her colorful, wispy haired troll dolls. She’d pick them up one by one and blow on their hair, which took a while because she had several. Drew mocked her until she began to win, a lot! Cut to commercial. When the scene opens again, Drew is surrounded with troll dolls and is shaking them and blowing on their hair, telling them “Come on, Daddy needs a new so-in-so.”
I don’t think I have any superstitions about my writing. I am a Christian Fiction writer though, and I do pray over my writing, especially when I’m writing spiritually vulnerable scenes. I am concerned about writing something that Satan could get a hold of and use for his evil intensions. So I will change my font to red and write a phrase at the beginning of the scene: This scene is covered by the blood of the lamb. It is for God’s glory. No evil intent can touch it or use it in any way. In Jesus’ name, Amen. This, of course, is deleted when the manuscript is ready to be published.
That may seem silly to others, but it makes me feel safe from giving the devil a foot-hold.
As for my daily rituals, (Honestly my life is fairly routine and boring to most, but I love it) I wake and seek out a cup of coffee and toast. I read a daily reading of the Bible, check my email, and Facebook (Yes, I admit that!) and text my kids to tell them “Good Morning.” Then I go to my computer and start writing, editing, or researching; whatever is needed to work on my latest work-in-progress. Today, I’m answering Guest Blog posts and interview questions for this blog tour. Around ten I empty the dishwasher and refill it, at eleven-thirty I make lunch for my mother, who has Alzheimer’s, and my special needs sister (both live with us). I try to run any errands I have after lunch and then get back on the computer for more writing until four or so, when I start preparing dinner. I will continue to write while things are cooking, and after dinner until about seven. That’s when I have “me” time. I soak in a hot bath and do what I call “my pleasure reading.” It’s not work, it’s not critiquing, it’s just a novel I want to read for the fun of it. Then I put on my pajamas and curl up in bed to continue reading until nine or ten, when I turn off the light and try to go to sleep.
That’s it. My extraordinary life! But, you know, it works for me. Now, please don’t think this is always the case. I get a lot of interruptions: the dogs need out, the dogs need in (we have three dogs), my mother needs something, time to feed the dogs, breaking up cat fights (we have three cats), go to a meeting, a rare TV show is on that I like, clean house (blah), … well you get the idea.
But, as often as I can, I’m chase down my muses and work on getting a story written.
Thank you for having me as your guest today. I appreciate you helping get the word out about Thorns of Betrayal. BOOK INFO
Synopsis: His destiny brought them together, but will her past rip them apart?
Ever since her father’s mysterious death, Rose Bauer has suffered with migraines. Visions and voices reach out to her from the intense pain. Is her father’s spirit trying to contact her? Or is she going crazy?
Now is not a good time to be crazy.
Zeke Clayton claims destiny led him to her door. But how strong can destiny bind two souls when one is as tainted as hers? Is his love for her and faith in God strong enough to survive all her secrets? Will justice ever be served against the one who has betrayed them all?
Amazon | GoodReadsExcerpt:
She had to get away from him, away from his lies. She pulled onto the county road. Her tires fishtailed on the wet asphalt and her head banged against the driver’s window. She slammed her transmission into second gear and then third. She could barely see through the downpour. How could she let herself get caught in a spring storm? She knew how bad they could get. Lightning flashed and momentarily blinded her. She blinked and blinked. The residual ball of light obscured her vision. Her VW splashed through a low-water crossing.
She down shifted as her car traveled through the water but returned the gear to third and pressed the gas. He’s lying! That’s what Russell did. He lied! Nobody knew that better than her. Wipers flapped vehemently across her windshield. Her mother did not kill those people. They killed her. Her body shook as she sobbed. Tears poured down her face. She scrubbed a knuckle across her nose. Around the curve a granite outcrop became part of the view. Her little bug dipped and climbed with the contour of the road. She needed to talk to Keisha.
The wipers squealed against drying glass. The downpour had stopped. She reached into her purse for her cell phone. Her car slammed into another low-water crossing and hydroplaned to her left. She jerked her eyes up. Terror shot through her chest. Oh God! Her cell phone crashed to the floorboard and broke apart. She gripped her steering wheel with blanching knuckles, but it didn’t help. The current pushed her little Beetle off the concrete road into the water. It tipped to the left and then righted itself. The Volkswagen bobbled but favored the left side. She leaned toward the center and frantically looked around. Men and women ran from vehicles along the side of the normally dry gulch.
Hysteria barely in check, she pounded the windshield and screamed, “Help me!”
The people were throwing ropes across the river down from her car. Thank God, they’ll catch the car. Her eyes met theirs. They were yelling something at her.
“What?” She rolled down her window.
“Don’t move,” the crew hollered. “Don’t move!”
Three men spilled from a black Hummer. Many voices yelled for her to be still.
A warm sensation cascaded over her like a sheer drape. Her fear flushed out like a drain and peace filled her heart. She would be saved. She sat back in her seat and sighed.
Her VW jerked, and her head slammed against the steering wheel. The ropes had caught. The current roared against the hull, filling her ears, drowning out the people’s voices. A warm trail of fluid ran down her neck. She touched her chin. Blood! Fear crept back and tightened in her throat. Like a terrifying roller coaster, she tipped in her seat. Her car was rolling over! She screamed as it continued to tumble.
Water punched her in the face and shoved past her as it poured into her car, quickly filling it. Panic clawed at her mind as the water engulfed her. Her door opened. She jerked her head toward it. A man! She could get out. She grabbed at his shoulders, his arms, whatever she could get hold of to pull herself out. But she couldn’t get out! She was stuck. He pushed back from her.
Oh No! Don’t leave me!
Her lungs burned. Raw pain tore at her throat. Choking convulsions. Pain…fading…darkness.
About the Author:
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Giveaway Details:
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