by April | Sep 5, 2011 | Clash of the Titles, COTT, Dialogue, Expectations, Uncategorized, Writing
Coming Up at Clash of the Titles, October 10-November 4, 2011
The first annual, Tournament of Champions!
Over a FOUR week period, SIXTEEN previous COTT champs will face-off in EIGHT different mini-Clashes.
Only ONE will take home The Laurel Award.
With Clashes, games, and prizes galore, you won’t want to miss this month-long celebration!
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Dialogue lets your characters be heard. It’s their voice; their conversation amongst themselves. It’s how they tell their story. Dialogue is talk. Discussion. Arguments. Jokes. Questions and answers. Foibles. Mystery. Mesmerism. It’s the muscle on the skeleton of the story.
The writer’s ability to conquer natural dialogue comes out of how well we know our characters. The reader’s ability to hear natural-sounding dialogue comes from the depth from which he is drawn into the story.
Using dialogue in a book helps readers see that characters spend time with each other for a reason, even if they’re stranded on desert islands. Tom Hanks had Wilson in the move
Cast Away, after all. Dialogue is more than internal mutterings or their revelations to the reader. It needs to be heard, not just read. The words need to translate immediately to sound in the reader’s inner ear, and thus be natural, no matter the setting.
What can we deduce from these two small pieces of the excerpts in this Clash? Are you in time, in story, in the character’s emotions? Can you cheer for them? Figure out exactly what will happen next, or are you eager to turn the page for more?
“Would you mind if I walked with you?”
“As long as we’re not together.”
“All right.” He strode into the street and spread his arms as wide as his grin. “There. We’re not together.”
“Jack!” she cried…. “Get back up here.” Ruth motioned frantically. “Don’t make me fix you up again.”
OR
“Perhaps you cannot wait for the wedding night?”
Her brown eyes simmered. “Why you insufferable cad!” She raised her hand to slap him.
He caught it and lifted it to his lips for a kiss, eyeing her with delight.
She studied him then released a sigh. “You tease me, sir.” Snatching her hand from his, she stepped back. “But what would I expect from you?”
In a novel, talk must have a purpose. A conversation shouldn’t be talk for the sake of filling time or space. Readers have only until the last page to spend with people in a book, so writers must not waste time. Dialogue is meant to reveal something useful, important to the story line—passion, motive, or confession.
Why Snappy? Characters must speak true to their nature. While snappy it might not describe the personality, it implies action, tension, perhaps a slip of the tongue or a revelation that might even surprise the character, but certainly should surprise the reader.
Clash of the Titles hopes you are intrigued by these little snippets of story and want to find out more about the books and authors.
Stop by and you’ll get that chance! Meet the authors and leave comments to enter the drawing for a free book.
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Lisa Lickel is a Wisconsin writer who lives with her husband in a hundred and fifty-year-old house built by a Great Lakes ship captain. Surrounded by books and dragons, she has written dozens of feature newspaper stories, magazine articles, radio theater, and several inspirational novels to date. She is also the senior editor at Reflections in Hindsight.
by April | Aug 20, 2011 | Chronic Illness, Encouragement, Expectations, Writing
Well, as ordered by my husband, I made it to the Oregon Christian Writers’ summer conference. Because of my troubled health, I had no idea at all how I would go about getting there, or walk around, or last through the day—but God is good and He supplied my need.
I didn’t last out full days, but I didn’t expect to. I went with the hope that I could attend a couple classes, maybe meet with some professionals in publishing, and gain some encouragement and fellowship. All those things happened, and more. This, in part, is a lesson I’m learning. You’ve probably heard the old adage that is somehow supposed to reduce stress: Just let go. Or Let go and let God. Catchy bumper sticker counseling.
I have preconceived ideas about my life and how it will work all stored in my head. So far, I can tick a few things off the expectations list. I married a man who loves the Lord (check). I have two children (check). I always wanted a boy and a girl. They were to be named Lucas and Ashley (twins) and we would live in a white Victorian (cue fluttering rose petals). Achem. I DO have a girl and a boy, but those are not their names and I’m still waiting on the Victorian. I would learn to play the drums (in process, check). I would have a dog (I have two cats, one of which acts like a dog…check?). I would swim with dolphins (eh…not yet). I would be a novelist (working, working, working on that one).
I have to admit, that no where on my list are the words chronically ill.
Honestly, though, platitudes have never done a whole lot for me. Perhaps what that philosophical nugget should say is: Let go of your expectations and hang on to God.
Usually, I’m nervous, tense, what have you, when I go to meet with the professionals who have looked over my mini-proposal and hold my fate in their hands (drama). But, do you know what? When you are as fatigued as I am, you have no energy at all left to be tense. Was I worried? No. Did I relax and have a nice time? Yep. Note to self: remember this lesson!
There’s an often quoted verse in Jeremiah where God is speaking to the people of Israel. A lot of people take comfort in that God has plans for them. But, I think sometimes they forget the verse is about what God is hoping and planning for them, not what they are planning for themselves.
I’ve been invited to submit full proposals to a couple places. That feels nice and hopeful (although, I’ve been here before, so I’m not getting giddy!). We’ll see what happens.
Jeremiah 29 11:14 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity. (Read it in context here).
by April | Feb 20, 2011 | Encouragement, Food Allergies, Gluten, Writing
I started off writing this blog about seven weeks ago. I’d had a cold, was getting over it, and felt discouraged because it didn’t seem like I could keep up with life. There are so many people out there promoting their writing better than I do, turning out more stuff, and some how keeping their lives in ship shape order. I shared my insights with a friend who reminded me that my family lived at a different level than maybe other people’s families do. I didn’t understand what she meant.
She reminded me that in the past few years, we’ve gone through a lot with all our different health ailments. She took me down a long list of things we’ve survived and it took me aback. It seems, over the course of time, we’d adjusted to these things, moved the bar, so to speak. I hadn’t thought of that. She suggested I might be putting too much pressure on myself (who me??) and I should rather appreciate how God has helped us adjust to this new normal in our life, and cut myself some slack in the expectations department.
I’d thought about that phrase before. A new normal. Our normal has changed. We’ve gone from a carefree, grab a meal out here and there, spur of the moment family, to one that has to consider ever aspect of food, preparation, time and energy. We have to take a lot into consideration when planning an outing, or making a commitment. I think, even though it’s been a very hard adjustment period, we are better for it. I think. On days when I’m exhausted and just want to get takeout, I don’t feel that way so much–but we all have our moments.
So, where was I? Oh yeah…planning this blog. SO, while I’m thinking about our new normal, and health issues, I get pneumonia. Again. Weeks have gone by, and now that I’m getting my energy back, I realize I never posted my blog I’d begun so many weeks ago. Maybe I needed a refresher course? Okay, so here’s what I learned this time:
My family has learned to pick up the slack when mom is down and out. They know how to really dig in and take care of things. We’ve been here, done that, and are good to go with the flow. I don’t dig my heels in and complain when struck silly with illness, as once I did. Rather, I look and think and wonder what God might have in store for me this time. I used to rail and whine with each bout of illness that came our way, now I’m like, “huh…well, okay. We know how to do this.” I now feel fairly (notice I said fairly) comfortable telling people, “No, I can’t do that.” Because I know the limits on my energy. I don’t fear.
I liken it to fire drills. Or emergency preparedness. If you do something often enough, then you get kind of used to it. Am I comfortable being ill? Not hardly. But, I know that God will provide for our needs. He’s shown us again and again and again. When I go down, I’m not alone. He’s here, providing comfort in the sense of His being, through others, through family.
Some of my favorite passages are in Romans. One that get’s used an awful lot, found on stationary, door knockers, you name it, is Romans 8:28 And we know in all things that God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Is that an easy platitude to give someone going through a hard time? No. I think it’s often taken out of context. First, it’s a promise to those who belong to God, His children adopted by God through our great Savior, Jesus. Second, it’s a promise that no matter what we face, if we are submissive to Him, He can take all the trials of this life and work them out to further His plans, for our good. It’s a verse I hold dear. But, put in context, it’s ever so much more powerful:
26 In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. 27 And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God. 28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[i] have been called according to his purpose. 29 For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. 30 And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.
Paul goes on to say, if God is for us, who can be against us? Who indeed. If we belong to Him, then NOTHING can separate us from the Love of God that is in Christ Jesus. If you haven’t read this passage of Romans completely in a while, or maybe never–please do. It’s so much more than a platitude for those hurting. There is beautiful power in the Word of God. Here’s the link Romans 8.
by April | Oct 24, 2010 | Short Stories, Writing
Liz straightened the napkins around her place setting for the fourth time, aligning and realigning the silverware, whispering a mantra to herself. “It’s just for dinner and then I can go home to my family. It’s just dinner.” She tucked the fork down, pulled the spoon up and slipped the package snugly under the edge of her plate. A new group of people entered the restaurant, but there was no sign of Sherri.
A glance at her watch told her Sherri was twenty minutes late. All that rushing to get here for nothing. She shouldn’t have agreed to meet her in the first place. She had finally cast Sherri out of her life three years ago, shaking her friendship off like dust from her sandals. The moment had been the most freeing and refreshing she could remember. It was like the spring breeze blowing in over the ocean on the first warm day at the coast, sweet and salty, cold but not bitter. She wasn’t sure where she ever got the courage to do it, but she hadn’t regretted it once.
The waiter interrupted her thoughts. “More water?” His calm demeanor didn’t match the irritation in his eyes.
She shifted in her chair, guilt building around her for tying up a table during the dinner rush.
“Yes, thank you.”
“And more breadsticks for madam?”
Liz locked her eyes on the empty breadstick glass, not recollecting eating the last one.
“That’d be nice. You know, I’m sure my friend will be here soon.”
“Of course.” He turned his back on her and went to another table, his tone now friendly and light as he filled their wine glasses and offered them coffee and desert.
He probably thought she was one of those people who ate the free bread and left without buying a meal.
There were a hundred reasons she shouldn’t be here waiting for Sherri, but when she’d invited her for dinner, she’d caved and said yes. Liz could never stand up to her. Well, except that last time when she cut off communication. Sherri, apparently having not noticed Liz wiping her hands of their friendship, insisted on this meeting, and was now probably standing her up and making her look the fool once again.
Liz reached up and tucked a straying clump of black unruly hair behind her ear, and fiddled with her earring back, twisting and twisting. Panic set in—was her earring right side up, or upside down? Flustered, she extracted her spoon and covertly looked at her cockeyed reflection. She was upside down, so was left still left, or was it right? Before she could wrap her brain around that confounding bit of physics, she heard voices near the entry of the small restaurant.
Loud, cheery talk drew everyone’s eyes towards the seating host, and the lovely woman who engaged him. Liz noted the cut of her maroon dress, high up the leg, low in the back, and her perfectly styled hair before she realized she was admiring Sherri. The bite of breadstick she had nibbled two seconds prior solidified in her throat and she grappled with her glass of water, gulping it down, in attempts to push it along. She swallowed hard, realizing too late that she had taken in too much. A resounding ache filled her throat and chest as it dislodged the plug, and her eyes teared in sympathy.
Sherri flipped her auburn hair, laughed at something the host said, and touched him on the arm before leaning in to whisper something conspiratorially. Liz tensed as she remembered Sherri giving her orders as if on some kind of training mission, “If you want someone to like you, to do things for you, get them on your side. Empathy and touch do nicely.”
She had always felt Sherri had been quoting from some early Fifties self-help manual, but it appeared the advice still worked. She was never one to reuse an unsuccessful technique. The host personally walked her over to Liz’s table and pulled out Sherri’s chair for her. He offered her a complimentary bottle of their house wine.
“Aren’t you kind?” Her voice overflowed with silky warmth.
Liz’s stomach clenched into a tight knot. He hadn’t pulled out her chair, he had only pointed to the corner and said, “how about there?” He hadn’t offered her wine. On the contrary, the only thing he’d given her was accusing looks.
After tucking Sherri into the table, as if into bed, he handed her a menu with a flourish and a wink before leaving them alone.
Sherri’s rapt attention swung away from the host and settled gently on Liz, like a dove lighting on a newly budding tree.
“Liz, darling.” She reached her perfectly manicured hand across the table and squeezed Liz’s arm. “You look wonderful.”
Liz heard the forced compliment, felt the touch, saw Sherri lean as the empathetic shift of her attention enveloped her.
She knew very well how she looked: tired, haggard and frazzled. Jason had misplaced the iron, so the black blouse she wore was wrinkled; there was a run in the toe of her stalking, creating a large hole encircling her middle toe and cutting off the circulation—it was most unfortunate that she’d worn open toed shoes. In the end, she had barely made it out of the house without food on her slacks when the twins rushed her, their hands encrusted with peanut butter and crackers, to hug her goodbye.
Despite the truth, she sat up a little taller, and felt a surge of pride at being honored by Sherri’s attention. Within seconds, the fallacy of those feelings was realized and replaced by a familiar tickle of tension. Duped again.
The waiter returned with house salads. “May I recommend the scampi?”
“Sounds lovely. What about you?” She pointed the waiter in Liz’s direction.
“Steak and cheddar potatoes.” She had meant to order the low-calorie vegetable soup, but her brain had locked in on the cheddar potatoes and couldn’t seem to let it go. To cover for her mistake, she tried to make small talk.
“Sherri, you look lovely.” She fought the urge to squeeze Sherri’s arm and lean in. Was her smile forced or natural? Did she sound as convincing as Sherri had? She had only been in Sherri’s presence for one minute and already she had begun to second-guess herself.
“Oh, I’m all right I suppose.” She shrugged. “It’s been ages. I’m so glad you could come. I’m sorry it can’t be for a longer visit—I’ve so much to do while in town.”
Liz nodded in mock understanding. Sherri was an attorney, very busy and dedicated to her clients. But, Liz also knew she wasn’t in the middle of a case. She wasn’t home to do anything but visit with her family. It was her parent’s fortieth wedding anniversary. To some, this would be a large affair, but not in Sherri’s family. Blood was always thicker. No, setting aside a few hours for Liz was all she could manage.
Liz caught her thoughts. She hadn’t wanted this meeting at all, and now she was grousing because Sherri didn’t ask to spend even more time with her. Why do I care?
The waiter returned with their food, placing the dish before Sherri with a flourish, and plopping Liz’s down with a thud. As Liz unfolded her napkin, her silverware ratted against the plate, drawing looks from those nearby their table. Ignoring them, she began cutting her steak into small bite-sized pieces before she realized what she was doing—there were no tiny mouths to save from choking hazards here. She pushed the meat around on her plate, to mask what she’d done. Since Sherri didn’t have children, she probably wouldn’t notice.
“So, tell me,” Sherri began, drawing out the word me, “how have you been?” Her brown eyes blinked slowly and she settled her chin on her hands, giving Liz her complete attention.
“Oh, well, fine.”
“Come on now. How are your twins? The last pictures you emailed me were adorable. They could be models, absolutely.”
Email? Oh blast that fool address book. She must have mistakenly sent Sherri the last set of photos. No wonder she was calling her. Wait, did she just say models?
“Oh, thanks. You know, they’re both so quick to learn. Lila is reading and Lucas is so spatially gifted. He remembers street names and people and places months after we’ve visited. For five, they really are amazing.” Liz could hear herself gushing, but couldn’t seem to stop. “They did the funniest thing the other day,” Liz paused feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.
Her companion smiled and nodded before taking a bite of her salad, breaking eye contact as if she were bored to pieces. Liz grumped. Sherri could always get to her, drawing her out and then shutting her down just as she was beginning to feel comfortable. She felt seasick from riding the wave up and down so rapidly.
It was then she noticed Sherri had quit eating; in fact there was little evidence she had eaten anything at all—except perhaps from the gloss of oil and vinegar residue on her forgotten fork.
Liz peered down at her own mostly empty plate and swallowed the bit of cheddar potato she had been enjoying but which now lay like dust on her tongue.
“Anything the matter?”
“Oh, no—just getting full.” Her lips thinned into a smile and she moved her napkin to the tabletop signaling the waiter to remove her plate.
The food was delicious and Liz hardly ever got to eat out without the kids. It was heavenly not to defend her meal from tiny invaders, to eat in peace—or at least relative peace. And yet, she couldn’t eat another bite. Even now she could feel the waist of her size fourteen slacks digging into the skin of her stomach.
Well, that’s why she’s a size six and you’re a fourteen. She knows when to stop. Six and fourteen? Am I really over twice her size? Does it work that way? No it couldn’t be; our wrists are practically identical.
“Liz?” Sherri’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“What?”
“I asked how your husband was.”
“Oh, he’s fine. Business is good.” Liz kept her guard up. She knew very well that Sherri didn’t like Jason. He was the first decision she had made without asking Sherri’s opinion—permission rather. She changed the subject.
“How’s Henry,” Liz countered.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine.”
Liz frowned. “You’re sure?”
“Well, he’s moved on you see, so there’s no way I could really know. I suspect he’s fine.” Sherri sipped her wine.
“Moved on?” Her voice echoed in the cozy restaurant. She lowered it. “Do you mean he’s left you?” Liz was aghast—in part shock that her friend was divorced, and in part out of a strange respect for Henry.
“Yes. His secretary was spending more time with him than I was, so he decided he should just be with her instead. It was much more—convenient.”
“Convenient?” Liz laughed at the idea, then sobered when she saw Sherri wasn’t joking. “You’re serious?”
“He’s into efficiency.” She shrugged as if she had just said he was into football.
Liz imagined Henry letting Sherri go, as if he were firing an employee. She could picture it easily, Henry dry and pragmatic, all angles and ugly, smiling down his nose at Sherri. “It makes more sense, it’s much more convenient.” And then his handing her a severance check and a letter of reference for her years of dedicated service.
“The lousy,” Liz stopped herself before she said how she really felt. Sherri didn’t deserve what he’d done, no one did. Then she heard something she hadn’t heard since they were girls. Sherri laughed—loud and long and real. Liz wasn’t sure if she were having a breakdown or not.
“Sherri?”
“I’m sorry. I was just picturing Henry proposing the arrangement to his secretary.” She cleared her voice, lowering it an octave, “By the way, I’m replacing my wife with you because you’re more efficient,” she paused, “he always was a romantic.” She burst into laughter again, blotting the tears away with her napkin.
“And she said yes!”
“I know, can you believe it? Oh good heavens.” She took a deep breath to stave off another attack of the giggles.
“What settlement did you get?” Liz leaned towards her in anticipation.
“I got the house and his car.” She nodded back.
“And you never liked either!”
“No, they were horrible! I sold them the next day to the first offer I got. I lost thousands.” The laughter had returned, and Liz joined her.
“I bet that killed him.”
Sherri could only nod. Liz watched the glimmer of joy in her eyes fade away.
“I’m sorry.” Liz really was. Sherri was better off without an unfaithful husband—but that didn’t change the facts. The dream of a long, fulfilling marriage had ended in betrayal.
For several seconds Sherri said nothing. “I wanted to call you, you know.”
“You did?”
“But we’d lost contact.” Here her eyes locked on Liz’s. So, Sherri had noticed after all. “I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with. Some people say I’m calculating.”
Liz couldn’t argue with her.
“Henry always said he admired that in me. Considering the source, you can understand why I no longer take that as a compliment.”
All Liz could do was nod.
“When you posted those pictures to me, I guess I took that as an olive branch.” Her voice lifted at the end, as if she’d posed a question.
Liz could hardly admit the email had been accidental. She now wished she’d dealt differently with the situation. “I’m sorry we grew apart and that I wasn’t there for you.”
“You know, I’ve never asked you about your faith.”
“It’s your faith, too. You go to church.”
“I occasionally went to church. You go to worship. There’s a difference.”
“Oh.” Liz had never thought of it that way.
“Anyway, I’m not very good at such things, but I thought you could pray for me. Henry’s leaving was such a surprise—and I really despise those kinds of surprises.”
“Of course.” Not once in her life had she ever heard Sherri say the word pray.
“Good.” She laced her fingers together as if she’d closed a deal. Just then the waiter came by to check on them and showed them the desert menu. Liz was about to tell him no, still feeling the pressure of her pants cutting into her skin, when Sherri grabbed it.
“The brownie sundae with extra fudge, please, and fast.”
Liz’s eyes lit up. “Make that two.”
Copyright by April McGowan 2010
by April | Jul 31, 2010 | Encouragement, Writing
For the past two months, I’ve been working like crazy to get my second novel boosted in word count in order to submit to a publisher at the Oregon Christian Writer’s summer conference. I’ve been working nights, and in between being homeschool mom and wife (and whatever other titles I carry that I can’t remember right now). I’ve just about finished polishing it up and feel pretty confident about it. My proposals are turned in and all I have to do is wait for Monday and have a great time at the conference. Or so I thought.
Last night, my son came down with the stomach flu. This has thrown a kink into my plans. I’m pretty susceptible to…everything it seems. I don’t know where I was when the immune systems were being handed out, but I definitely missed mine.
In order for me to make this conference, God had to work out some pretty difficult things: money, transportation and childcare, as well as the time to boost my story, and to edit it. I have several folks holding me up in prayer, and as all these things were all worked out, I registered and got to work. I trust that He has a plan, and I’m moving ahead in faith. Yet one eye is on my son, who hasn’t turned the corner to wellness, and I’m wondering if I’ll go down in the battle.
It’s hard to keep my eyes ahead sometimes. It’s difficult not to look at my current circumstances and feel overwhelmed when I’ve had very little sleep, washed bedding and clothing all day long, and keep running my child to the bathroom every hour or so. But God calls us to do just that—keep our eyes on Him. So, that’s what I’m choosing to do, and to God be the glory.
Hebrews 12: 1-3
1Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
James 1: 2-8
2Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. 4Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. 6But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; 8he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does.
Using dialogue in a book helps readers see that characters spend time with each other for a reason, even if they’re stranded on desert islands. Tom Hanks had Wilson in the move Cast Away, after all. Dialogue is more than internal mutterings or their revelations to the reader. It needs to be heard, not just read. The words need to translate immediately to sound in the reader’s inner ear, and thus be natural, no matter the setting.
