Thursday, April 11, 2019

Awesome Excerpt Thursday ~ Pygmalion Revisited by Devon Layne

The myth of Pygmalion, the artist who fell in love with a statue he carved, has been a theme for countless authors, singers, and artists over the years. In this volume, author Devon Layne compiles six stories, each with a different take on the ancient myth.

The first is a simple retelling of the myth with “a little meat on its bones” and told in contemporary language. The second, “Lost Wax”, tells the story of a sculptor working with bronze castings whose clay molds begin to shape the model he is working with. “Whittled Away” is the story of an old man who converses with his long-dead wife as he whittles at a block of wood in his cabin awaiting his time to join her. When two artists meet at a Renaissance Festival but have different media for their art, we are left to ask what durable art is and whether clay and iron can mix in “Iron Alchemy”. What if it were the other way around and the art fell in love with the artist? This is the question asked in “Mixed Media”. And finally, an advertising copywriter describes his ideal mate in “A Thousand Words”.

Each story presents a different aspect, sometimes funny, sometimes sad, and always with a touch of romance and erotica.

Kindle eBook and Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071DSBXGQ

Excerpt from “Whittled Away”:

THE MAN who chops his own wood warms himself twice.

“You always have something clever to say when it’s me who’s suffering.” Nonetheless, David set another log on the chopping block and swung his axe. It was a well-practiced swing of the blade and split the log smoothly. He picked up the pieces and tossed them in his wagon. He picked up the next log, almost too small to split. He’d spent the past week cutting the wood to the right lengths with his chainsaw. He’d hauled it out of the woodlot, but the larger pieces still needed to be split or they wouldn’t burn thoroughly. Some wouldn’t even fit in the fireplace.

He stood with the stick of wood in his hand and let the axe idle against his thigh. A limb had broken away from this trunk many years ago, leaving a protruding knob, long-since healed over with bark. The shape of the knot filled his hand with memories.

I was never as firm as that. And never a wooden lover.

“No, my love, but the shape is about right. I held those precious breasts enough times to remember.”

I went to sleep at night with your hands supporting them. I felt so secure.

“I think I’ll stop for now and go sit a spell.”

Don’t forget to drink something. And I mean water, not any of that cider that’s gone hard.

“I don’t drink that stuff.”

Don’t lie to me. I know better.

“I suppose you are spying on me from the grave. I’ll have water first.”

David dragged the two-wheel cart up to the house and stacked the load of firewood, keeping the breast-shaped log aside. He’d just keep that by his chair on the porch for a while. He pumped water and washed his head to cool off. The water was cold. October was already brisk and he was headed for a hard winter. As long as he kept a fire in the firebox, the pump shouldn’t freeze. But he needed to finish splitting that fourth cord of wood and if he was smart, he’d put in another. He drank his fill of the cold water and toweled himself off. There’d been no hard frost yet, so he figured he could do without a fire tonight.

Instead he fixed a simple dinner of rice and beans, cut a sausage into the mess, and sat on the porch with his plate.

Those cans of vegetables you put in won’t do your body any good unless you eat them.

“Always complaining about the way I eat,” he groused.

Just always want you to be healthy, my love. Was I really such a nag?

“I’d give my life to have you here nagging me now.”

I don’t think that was an answer. What are you going to do now?

“Hmm. Sit here.” He rocked in his chair and picked up the log. Maybe he’d whittle a little. He pulled out his Buck knife and carefully began stripping the bark from the block of wood.


Ooh. Like the first time you undressed me.

ISBN-13: 978-1939275622


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Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Writing Warrior Wednesday ~ How to Train Your Writing Dragon

When this movie first came out in the theater I was less than excited. It didn’t interest me. My husband, as a treat to our five-year-old son, took him to see it. 

Taking the kids to see animated movies, with the exception of Pixar, is usually a crap shoot, but we suffer through. In this case, when my husband and son returned that afternoon, our son was bouncing off the walls babbling about how awesome the movie was. This is not unusual. My husband, though, was also very complimentary and kept talking about not only the animation but the main character, Toothless, the dragon. 


Years have gone by and “How to Train your Dragon” is now on Netflix. We recently sat down one night as a family to watch it. 
I loved it, no I will preface this. I loved Toothless. 

Toothless has joined the ranks of my favorite silent characters. These include Wall-E, Silent Bob, R2D2, Sam (Benny & Joon), Pixar’s Lamp, Teller (Penn & Teller), The Red Balloon (from French movie of the same title), Wilson (Castaway) & The Tramp (Charlie Chaplin).

Chaplin, the master of the silent movie, was, and still is considered the master of conveying emotion, or character, without the use of dialog. One of the challenges every author faces is the ability to convey emotion through words. This can be done via dialog or description. An exercise most writers are tasked with in the very beginning of their pros is to write a scene completely devoid of description. The only venue you have to convey your theme is dialog. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, what if you had no dialog as a venue, only description?  As ours is not visual art, this poses quite a challenge. 

Visual expression, as brilliantly shown in the character Toothless, is astounding in the ability to have such an impact. The emotions attached to a silent character run a different, deeper, path than those who have a voice.  Another impressive modern example of this is Kurt Russell in the movie “Soldier” released in 1998. While this film was released with little attention from the populace, it is a touching and powerful example of expression without words. 

But how do we as writers describe the emotional expression of a character and exactly the same results? How do we describe anger, love, hate, frustration without words?

This, of course, leads us back to the #1 rule of fiction writing, show, don’t tell. 

One of the things I have started to do is to watch these characters and then describe their facial movements, their stance, and their eyes, trying to dissect what emotion is coming across, and how. 

So here is an exercise for all those who are interested in exploring this facet of our world. Here is a picture of Toothless. Use words to describe the scene and what is happening, the emotion involved in the scene.  Basically, recreate the picture in words. When finished you should be able to read the description and form the same image without the picture. 


Share it with us! I am excited to see what you come up with!


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Tuesday, April 9, 2019

Teaser Tuesday ~ Sneak Peek Outsider in Oklahoma

The shadows grew longer. She estimated only a few hours remained until sunset. Raised in Pennsylvania, she wasn’t a stranger to farm life and their open fields, early evenings and mornings that began before the sunrise. Living across from a dairy farm as a child, she saw the farm hands work the cattle and the fields. It was a hard life, but not without satisfaction for those who loved it.

Maybe that was why she couldn’t picture Aidan here. His passion had always been with the publishing world, the big city and working with clients. Particularly the trends that defined sales, spikes, marketing and the future of the publishing landscape. Since working with him she’d grown to appreciate his passion for the methodology and chaos of it all. Aidan Durrant was an amazing man, and part of the reason she’d worked with him all these years.

The center of activity played out away from the house. Following a gravely, dirt path, the herd of cattle milled around the largest of three enclosures. She heard the familiar sound of a horse whinnying to her right and discovered the smallest enclosure corralled several sturdy, tall horses. A cowboy brandishing a black hat conversed with a second man while examining one of the horses.

Tess watched the pleasurable interaction between them. She hooked her elbows on the top rail of the fence, like a little girl at a rodeo she didn’t want to miss a moment.

The discussion about the horse ended in agreement. The man in the cowboy hat nodded in her direction. She couldn’t help but admire his muscular body. The worn dungarees and cotton work shirt silhouetted against the sun outlined a fine specimen of a man. Cowboys certainly knew how to stay in shape. The cowboy she’d been admiring gave her a wicked grin and Tess’s knees went weak, realizing beneath the hat was a familiar pair of green eyes, Aidan. Oh, God, I’ve done it now.

She had a weakness for alpha males, cowboys, the man’s man. In her childhood fantasies, her prince would kick ass and take names before rescuing her. Now, as an adult, she liked to think she could kick some ass of her own.

Aidan strutted across the enclosure; his expression mesmerizing her, and she couldn't help but blush. This wasn’t the same man she’d spent the last seven years with. No way. Aidan Durrant’s timeworn boots stopped a few feet away. When his green eyes flashed gold, her breath caught in her throat.

"Nice hat, " he said.

"I like yours better."

One dark eyebrow rose.

Who are you, and what have you done with my boss?

"How are you enjoying the fresh air?"

"I am perfect."

"Always have been."

Tess bit her tongue, but inside, she smirked.

"Something wrong with the horse?" Tess quickly turned the subject.

"Nothing we can’t fix with rehabilitation."

"I don’t remember seeing horses earlier."

"There weren’t any."

"Another surprise from Daniel?"

"My brother seemed determined to run up debt." Aidan scratched his head. "Wonder if he realized we were so far in we’d never crawl our way out?"

"Maybe he wanted to do something good for once." Her words were out of line and she knew it. "I’m sorry…"

"No, maybe you’re right." Aidan motioned her to follow him and locked the gate behind them. "You must be starving."

"And you must have heard my stomach protesting."

His hand landed on the small of her back. He leaned into her and pointed to a building across the path. "I need to finish with the Vet and get cleaned up. I’ll meet you in the dining hall in a few minutes."

"Sounds like a plan," Tess said, acutely aware of the warmth flowing from his hand into her back. Aidan smiled and rejoined the vet who was loading a horse onto a trailer. Tess leaned against the fence, puzzled by her reaction to his touch. They’d brushed shoulders a million times over the years. So what was different about this time?

Shaking the thought from her head, she wrote it off to the relaxed ambiance at the ranch, the fresh air. She’d always been aware of his beauty, but it never seemed as pronounced as now. Had she been so buried in her job, she never appreciated the finer things about Aidan Durrant? With that question lingering in her mind, she turned toward the dining hall.

***

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