Although I haven't really considered myself much of a mystery writer, I have recently discovered that I am writing a mystery. I don't know why I haven't realized this before. In Ethan & Mariah's story I have all the essential elements: crime (murder), victim (Ethan's Stepmother, Mrs. Carew), suspects (at the moment only Mariah), and accusers (the housekeeper, Mrs. Filibree, and the victim's biological son, Jasper Hurst-Carew). I already have the other essential information in my head. I know who actually killed Mrs. Carew (yes she was murdered), that person's motive, and the means. The question is how my characters are going to find all this out.
Yes, I know I should have worked through all of this before hand, but I didn't. I didn't know I was writing a murder mystery until my fleeting moment of clear thought.
However, this shouldn't be a crisis. I am a veteran when it comes to reading about and watching mysteries. I have watched every Hercule Poirot that David Suchet has made. I read all of the original Nancy Drew books in one summer as a teen. I enjoyed the Nero Wolfe series on BBC (I want to own them on DVD someday), and I enjoy reading the occasional mystery novel. I should be able to pull this off. At least that is what I keep telling myself. We shall see. :)
- Rachel Rossano
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
So much to do and so little time to do it in!
Ack! Vacation is supposed to be relaxing. Getting away from work and household chores, visiting friends and family, all of the activites that should be refreshing to mind and body. Well, part of my vacation was relaxing. But now that I have been back for a few days, I have lost every bit of the refreshed feeling. Perhaps it was all the work I left behind, or it could be my hubby's stress level as he tried to do homework for his master's class while we were vacating. Either way, I am not up to my neck in work again and struggling to try to figure out what to handle next. I must have been insane to try to edit four manuscripts at once!
Don't worry. I haven't forgotten Wren or Mariah and Ethan. I am going to be working on them too. Just as soon as I catch up on email and other essential tasks. Well, back to work. :) If I am a bit delayed in getting back to anyone, you know why: I got swamped by something else. I will get back to everyone eventually. :)
- Rachel Rossano
Don't worry. I haven't forgotten Wren or Mariah and Ethan. I am going to be working on them too. Just as soon as I catch up on email and other essential tasks. Well, back to work. :) If I am a bit delayed in getting back to anyone, you know why: I got swamped by something else. I will get back to everyone eventually. :)
- Rachel Rossano
Monday, June 22, 2009
Comments, comments, and more comments please.
One would think that being critiqued would eventually become like an old hat, worn, faded, and familiar. I have been writing for over a decade and a half, and the hat hasn't even gotten dust on it. I still release each chapter, book, or snipet of writing with a eager heart and wait just as tensely for feedback as I did the first day I pushed my first fledgling from the nest. Even now, an old authoress (over the big 30), I still feel like a school girl when I get a nice review.
Now, I don't mean the shy kind, knee-high bobby socks, hair in pigtails, and bangs in the eyes sedately waiting in the corner. I am referring to the giggly kind with bouncy blond hair that laugh at everything and scream while jumping up and down clutching their fellow gigglers at the slightest announcement of something good. Yeah, I feel a little bit like them.
When one of the respected readers that I had asked to comment on Living Sacrifice told me that she "loved" my book, I wanted to jump up and down and scream right in the middle of the auditorium at church. Of course, I squashed the impulse. However, that giggly blond is still in there somewhere doing a happy dance at the fact that someone I respect really likes my book.
So, if you someday happen upon a usually dignified-looking woman, over 30, doing a happy dance off in some corner when she thinks she is alone, it is probably me. It isn't likely, though. I don't even do it in front of my hubby. Only my toddler son, my two dogs, and the kitchen appliances truly know what a nut case I still am. Some parts of us never really die, not that I ever was a giggly sort, really. However, I was a bit of a ham.
- Rachel Rossano
Now, I don't mean the shy kind, knee-high bobby socks, hair in pigtails, and bangs in the eyes sedately waiting in the corner. I am referring to the giggly kind with bouncy blond hair that laugh at everything and scream while jumping up and down clutching their fellow gigglers at the slightest announcement of something good. Yeah, I feel a little bit like them.
When one of the respected readers that I had asked to comment on Living Sacrifice told me that she "loved" my book, I wanted to jump up and down and scream right in the middle of the auditorium at church. Of course, I squashed the impulse. However, that giggly blond is still in there somewhere doing a happy dance at the fact that someone I respect really likes my book.
So, if you someday happen upon a usually dignified-looking woman, over 30, doing a happy dance off in some corner when she thinks she is alone, it is probably me. It isn't likely, though. I don't even do it in front of my hubby. Only my toddler son, my two dogs, and the kitchen appliances truly know what a nut case I still am. Some parts of us never really die, not that I ever was a giggly sort, really. However, I was a bit of a ham.
- Rachel Rossano
Monday, June 1, 2009
Flit, float, flutter
Whoa! It has been over a month since I reflected on something on this blog. Scary how time flies. I can barely keep my fingers wrapped around the steeringwheel as it roars along, carrying me with it. It seems like only yesterday I was pregnant and expectantly looking forward to my first baby. Now my baby is a year and a half old and we are praying for another one. The same goes for stories. As I look back over all the novels I have completed, I am amazed as how much time as passed. It seems like only yesterday I was agonizing over where to go in Cecily, about ready to throw Jayne out the window, venting my frustrations with Darius, and thoroughly enjoying torturing Seth. Yes, I tend to torture my characters.
At the moment, though, I am torturing myself. It is a common occurance. I have written a chapter in Wren and I am not sure it works. Sometimes I am just worrying for no good reason. Sometimes I am onto something and there really is something wrong. Either way, it doesn't do me much good worrying about it. That is why I have great readers. It there is something wrong, they will let me know. I am so thankful for their help for that exact reason. If I need to fix something they let me know. If I am just being a ninny, they let me know. They don't actually call me a ninny, but they encourage me to go on. Because of them, I know someone is listening. That by itself is reason enough to go on. :)
At the moment, though, I am torturing myself. It is a common occurance. I have written a chapter in Wren and I am not sure it works. Sometimes I am just worrying for no good reason. Sometimes I am onto something and there really is something wrong. Either way, it doesn't do me much good worrying about it. That is why I have great readers. It there is something wrong, they will let me know. I am so thankful for their help for that exact reason. If I need to fix something they let me know. If I am just being a ninny, they let me know. They don't actually call me a ninny, but they encourage me to go on. Because of them, I know someone is listening. That by itself is reason enough to go on. :)
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
The hard work of writing
I love to write. I love the creation aspect seeing things take shape, worlds appear, and characters develop. I love the sound of a well-written sentence, a catchy phrase, or a witty description. I also love the satisfaction of finishing something, be it a section, a chapter, or a book. I adore feedback. I don't just write for myself, that would be selfish. I write for others. I like to entertain and this seems to be my gift, sort of. I am definitely not a master.
All of these things aside, I am constantly reminded that writing takes work. I must think about what I want to say, the direction I want to take my characters, the goal I want to attain, and the nuances of the presentation. It takes concentration. I have to keep track of everything in my head. Who is where and what they said. Where they are going, and how I want to get them there. What would fit and what wouldn't. It is like improvising an entire play by oneself. If there is a crisis, I am the one that has to dig my characters out of it. If there is a knot, I have to untie it. I am responsible for every word, punctuation, and grammatical technique. It is a big job and hard work.
It also takes discipline. I have to make myself the time to write. If I do not, it will not get done. I must choose to sit down, ignore the email, the TV, the movies, the books, and pretty much everything else for a hour or two. It also takes tenacity. When a character won't cooperate, a scene feels wrong, a plot point appears weak, it is easy to just drop it and walk away. Thankfully, I am hooked enough by this point that the very fact that the job is half done bothers me into picking things up again. Regardless, it still takes a stubborn streak to bang out words even when you know that they aren't any good. Of course, if you keep banging long enough and hard enough, the right words will come. They will line up in formation, flashing their perfection at you until you can only praise the Great Author who made them do that. :)
Yes, writing is hard work. The best past time in the whole world.
All of these things aside, I am constantly reminded that writing takes work. I must think about what I want to say, the direction I want to take my characters, the goal I want to attain, and the nuances of the presentation. It takes concentration. I have to keep track of everything in my head. Who is where and what they said. Where they are going, and how I want to get them there. What would fit and what wouldn't. It is like improvising an entire play by oneself. If there is a crisis, I am the one that has to dig my characters out of it. If there is a knot, I have to untie it. I am responsible for every word, punctuation, and grammatical technique. It is a big job and hard work.
It also takes discipline. I have to make myself the time to write. If I do not, it will not get done. I must choose to sit down, ignore the email, the TV, the movies, the books, and pretty much everything else for a hour or two. It also takes tenacity. When a character won't cooperate, a scene feels wrong, a plot point appears weak, it is easy to just drop it and walk away. Thankfully, I am hooked enough by this point that the very fact that the job is half done bothers me into picking things up again. Regardless, it still takes a stubborn streak to bang out words even when you know that they aren't any good. Of course, if you keep banging long enough and hard enough, the right words will come. They will line up in formation, flashing their perfection at you until you can only praise the Great Author who made them do that. :)
Yes, writing is hard work. The best past time in the whole world.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Musings of a mother
I know that this is a little off the topic of this blog, but it is what is on my mind this beautiful Saturday morning. I have a son, an adorable, 1.5 year-old son. Usually he has the sweetest temperament in the world, easy going, happy, and content. Recently, however, he has been indulging in bouts of bad attitude where everything I ask him receives the same answer, a sulky "no."
Yes, he has only just starting using that word. I know have had a longer reprieve than most mothers before he reached this stage. However, now that it is here, I am having difficulty communicating the difference between a good attitude and a bad attitude. Of course, it is a difficult concept for even a teenager to grasp, let alone a toddler with the vocabulary of about sixty words. Yet, I must try. It is at these moments, I find myself turning to the Lord more.
He created us with out stubborn tenacity to want independence even when we can't handle it. Yes, we are fallen. I see my own fallen nature in my son, the stubborn streak, the manipulative cuteness (I am told I was quite the persistent manipulator as a child), and the desire to push the boundaries. I also see the potential. He caught on quickly to the basic flow of please and thank you. The other day, he even thanked the nurse that gave him his 18 month vaccines. He paused in his tears to mimic my thanks to the nurse.
I know that the Lord is working on him, just as He is working on me. I pray daily that Jonathan is one of His chosen. I pray that he will meet his Savior at an early age, as I was blessed to do. I pray for his future transforming walk with the Lord. As the sin nature in him uses his new skills to invent new ways to snub his nose at the Master, I pray that He will give me the wisdom to nurture this life and point him toward his Savior.
Yes, he has only just starting using that word. I know have had a longer reprieve than most mothers before he reached this stage. However, now that it is here, I am having difficulty communicating the difference between a good attitude and a bad attitude. Of course, it is a difficult concept for even a teenager to grasp, let alone a toddler with the vocabulary of about sixty words. Yet, I must try. It is at these moments, I find myself turning to the Lord more.
He created us with out stubborn tenacity to want independence even when we can't handle it. Yes, we are fallen. I see my own fallen nature in my son, the stubborn streak, the manipulative cuteness (I am told I was quite the persistent manipulator as a child), and the desire to push the boundaries. I also see the potential. He caught on quickly to the basic flow of please and thank you. The other day, he even thanked the nurse that gave him his 18 month vaccines. He paused in his tears to mimic my thanks to the nurse.
I know that the Lord is working on him, just as He is working on me. I pray daily that Jonathan is one of His chosen. I pray that he will meet his Savior at an early age, as I was blessed to do. I pray for his future transforming walk with the Lord. As the sin nature in him uses his new skills to invent new ways to snub his nose at the Master, I pray that He will give me the wisdom to nurture this life and point him toward his Savior.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Finishing the first draft
It is a strange thing to finish a first draft. In an instant, the flowering story turns from a piece to be nurtured, encouraged, and pampered to a work that badly needs pruning, grafting, and sometimes burning.
It is as though some one's life has come to a screeching halt and it is now time to scrutinize the past with a fine toothed comb. The editing doesn't restrict itself to just the odd typo and the occasional grammatical issue. Instead its spreads its scope to character, plot, and description: quizzing them with a magnifying eyeglass to see if they stand up to scrutiny. If they do, they are allowed to remain, old and solid remainders of the original structure, holding up the framework so carefully crafted. However, should they fail this close examination, they are dissected, probed, prodded, and rearranged. Sometimes they are thrown out all together to be replaced with another scene or piece of dialogue, new words to hopefully do an even better job of explaining, portraying, or describing something essential.
I have always dreaded this part of the process, taking my precious writing apart. But, as mother, I find that I have more practical point of view in regards to my latest creation. I can see that as much as I detest editing, it is vital. Everything has pieces that need to be removed in order for the whole to shine. With children and ourselves, it is the sin in our lives. With the written word, it is the weak scenes, the rambling dialogue, and the wordy descriptions that need my attention. And like every mother, I do not enjoy some aspects of my job, yet I cannot ignore them or let them gather dust. I must attack them at once with energy and prayer. The longer the dishes, diapers, or mess is left to wait, the worse it becomes and the more it settles in to stay.
So, I am setting off. Tackling my least favorite task. With the Lord's help, it will make the novel shine all the brighter for His glory.
- Rachel Rossano
It is as though some one's life has come to a screeching halt and it is now time to scrutinize the past with a fine toothed comb. The editing doesn't restrict itself to just the odd typo and the occasional grammatical issue. Instead its spreads its scope to character, plot, and description: quizzing them with a magnifying eyeglass to see if they stand up to scrutiny. If they do, they are allowed to remain, old and solid remainders of the original structure, holding up the framework so carefully crafted. However, should they fail this close examination, they are dissected, probed, prodded, and rearranged. Sometimes they are thrown out all together to be replaced with another scene or piece of dialogue, new words to hopefully do an even better job of explaining, portraying, or describing something essential.
I have always dreaded this part of the process, taking my precious writing apart. But, as mother, I find that I have more practical point of view in regards to my latest creation. I can see that as much as I detest editing, it is vital. Everything has pieces that need to be removed in order for the whole to shine. With children and ourselves, it is the sin in our lives. With the written word, it is the weak scenes, the rambling dialogue, and the wordy descriptions that need my attention. And like every mother, I do not enjoy some aspects of my job, yet I cannot ignore them or let them gather dust. I must attack them at once with energy and prayer. The longer the dishes, diapers, or mess is left to wait, the worse it becomes and the more it settles in to stay.
So, I am setting off. Tackling my least favorite task. With the Lord's help, it will make the novel shine all the brighter for His glory.
- Rachel Rossano
Monday, April 6, 2009
Oh Fickle Muse
To be completely honest, I don't truly believe in a fickle muse. However, having worked so long to capture on paper "that moment" as I have recently heard it described, I do find my goals as a writer sometimes elusive.
Unlike the suffering poet or artist I have read of, though, I have not given up to wallow in self-pity and despair. On the contrary, I have found that I possess a very stubborn nature. If I cannot obtain what I wish on the first writing of a page, I shall continue to strive. And even if I do grasp a bit of that certain something that defies description, I am still not completely satisfied. The editor in me will return repeatedly to go over, cut, add, mull, criticize, and final leave it alone still unfinished yet again.
To be a writer is to always feel like your work is unfinished. Even when the plot is portrayed on the paper, the character of the main cast is clear, and the prose relatively error free, there are still nagging issues, points, items, details, descriptions, etc. that could have been done differently and perhaps better. Writing is an imprecise art, driven by mood, whim, and elements only half grasped. Yet still I sail, like a sailor with a broken compass on an ocean with a hazy mist obscuring the stars, hoping that I am piloting my ship in the right direction knowing only that I will get somewhere at sometime and wondering why I ever left dry land.
At the same time, I know I must leave dry land. I must take the risk. Like a sailor who has the sea in his blood, I must return to my wandering.
- Rachel Rossano
Unlike the suffering poet or artist I have read of, though, I have not given up to wallow in self-pity and despair. On the contrary, I have found that I possess a very stubborn nature. If I cannot obtain what I wish on the first writing of a page, I shall continue to strive. And even if I do grasp a bit of that certain something that defies description, I am still not completely satisfied. The editor in me will return repeatedly to go over, cut, add, mull, criticize, and final leave it alone still unfinished yet again.
To be a writer is to always feel like your work is unfinished. Even when the plot is portrayed on the paper, the character of the main cast is clear, and the prose relatively error free, there are still nagging issues, points, items, details, descriptions, etc. that could have been done differently and perhaps better. Writing is an imprecise art, driven by mood, whim, and elements only half grasped. Yet still I sail, like a sailor with a broken compass on an ocean with a hazy mist obscuring the stars, hoping that I am piloting my ship in the right direction knowing only that I will get somewhere at sometime and wondering why I ever left dry land.
At the same time, I know I must leave dry land. I must take the risk. Like a sailor who has the sea in his blood, I must return to my wandering.
- Rachel Rossano
Monday, March 23, 2009
Writing again...
It is strange how this fascination with writing returns just as strong regardless the time I have been away. Here it has been almost two years. A time filled with good things, pregnancy, parenting, and many other great and important events. Yet, now that I have figuratively picked up the pen again and continued the stories that I have laid aside, the passion that has always been blossoms once again without restraint. As before, I dream of stories, plots, characters, and how to capture them with words. And, also, I find that a fire in my very being drives me onward despite the fear that my work will not be worthy. Still I must try. Even though these books will most likely never be read by masses of people, I am compelled from the depths of my being to put word to paper. All I can say is "to God be the glory" and give my very best.
- Rachel Rossano
- Rachel Rossano