Indiegogo: The Month of Writing Dangerously

The Month of Writing Dangerously campaign has kicked off at IndieGoGo

I'm raising money to take a one month leave of absence from work, and write a book.

Come see what goodies are available. Everything from $1 to $10,000 contributions will be rewarded.

An idea I want to remember

This is what we call Irish Planning.

I have been awake for almost 36 hours. If this still makes sense when I wake up, I'll take it under consideration.


Kickstarter or Indiegogo Campaign:

The Year of Writing Dangerously

The goal is to raise enough money that I can live on it and write books, to be published through Inkstained Succubus for cost effectiveness.

Steps:

1) figure out how MUCH money. Living Expenses and publishing expenses. Convention Travel expenses.
2) Figure out rewards.
3) Make video
4) Set up Livejournal/Blogger for the contributors to talk to.

During this year, defined as 12 months, I must write 3 novels and 6 short stories. That's about 200,000 words, which isn't quite 1000 words a day.

Reward ideas (Each level includes all the previous rewards):

Included in the dedication
Early releases
Paperbacks
A vote on which story comes next
A book signing in your city.
My backlist


So I throw this out to you, my loyal readers, friends and fanbase: Do you think I could potentially raise about $60,000 for expenses and publishing and travel?  Do you have ideas for rewards?

Guest Blog: HC Playa

Please welcome HC Playa to the Gazebo as she talks about first and third person and shares a bit of her paranormal romance, Fated Bonds, with us.

First vs. Third

One of the most important parts of writing a story begins with point of view (POV). I’ve heard that some feel that first person POV is “amateurish”. I disagree. Granted, I’ve read some horrid books that did not pull off the POV well, but I’ve also read some great books from the first person perspective. Personally, I think it is far more difficult to write in the first person than in third. In first person POV the focus is very tight, very narrow, which newer writers often have a difficult time sticking to.

In first person, the reader immediately is thrust into the primary character’s life. A lot of YA literature is written in first person for exactly this purpose. It engages the young reader’s emotions as quickly as possible. Karen Marie Moning’s Dark Fae, definitely not a YA series, is written in first person. Steven Brust’s Vlad Taltos series is another non-YA series that comes to mind. Moning used the POV to emphasize the character’s growth. Brust used the POV to effectively relay humor and attitude. It can also allow for a greater degree of suspense and mystery, because the reader is limited to the knowledge that the main character discovers. This can be done in third person as well, and many, many novels written in third person limited accomplish the same thing. When it is he or she versus “I”, there’s that sliver of divide between the reader. First person invites an intimacy that almost feels as if we the readers are slipping into the character’s skin.

Third person, either limited or omniscient, allows for alternate character viewpoints. It can be used to let the reader in on information that the main characters do not know. The key to writing third person well, is to use active voice and only switch points of view if it serves a purpose. A story told from ten different character points of view will end up disjointed and confusing.

While I have a published short story, What Autumn Leaves, written in first person, my novel “Fated Bonds” is written in third person. I’m sure some authors sit down and analyze which point of view will better serve their purpose. I confess that I’m not one of those authors. While a story might begin its life as a nebulous idea, it takes its first breath the moment I visualize the main character. In a way he or she speaks to me. That voice is what comes out on the page. Sometimes that story plays out visually, with me “watching” as the third person and other times the character whispers his/her story. To date, only a few of my short stories have played out as first person stories, likely because the story is focused on one person. No matter who else appears in the story, it is entirely about that character. My novels tend to have several major players, and it only feels fair to give them all a bit of the stage, so to speak.

I encourage any new writer to try writing in a different point of view now and again. Stretching beyond your comfort zone helps you grow as a writer.

As a treat, here’s an excerpt from Fated Bonds, my newly released novel:

She balanced the plate on the glass for a moment to open the door and then grabbed the plate before it took a nosedive to the floor. She opened the door with a bump from her hip and stood in the doorway, glaring at her guest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Bathroom,” he growled through gritted teeth.

Tala sighed and marched across the room. “I distinctly recall telling you to call me if you needed help.”

Mr. Werewolf stood beside the bed bent over with one hand holding his side and the other gripping the edge of the rickety old nightstand. The empty water glass lay on the floor. Tala shook her head and set his brunch on the nightstand. He shuffled a foot forward and grunted, his breath coming in fast and shallow pants.

“I do believe you could use a hand.” She extended a hand, but he ignored it, shuffling the other foot forward. The nightstand rocked under his weight. She moved in front of him, blocking his path and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to realize he did, in fact, need help. He growled low in his throat, but she stood her ground. “Fast healer or not, if you move too much, you'll reopen that gash. That nasty purple splotch on your side isn't paint. You probably bruised a few ribs, too. It won't break your ego to accept a little help.”

Mr. Werewolf craned his neck from his stooped position to meet her gaze. “Ego?”

Tala cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah. Why else would an intelligent man, who's obviously injured, ignore an offer of assistance?”

“Trust,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Ego has nothing to do with it.”

You can find Fated Bonds on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or order from InkStained Succbus. Also, feel free to check out my blog (hcplaya.wordpress.com), find my on Facebook (HC Playa), or follow my on Twitter (@HCPlaya). If you’ve read the book and liked it, consider leaving a review on Amazon.

My Sexy Saturday: Getting Sexy On

www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com

This week we’re talking about getting sexy on. You know…those slow dramatic build ups to that first kiss…or the foreplay involved with making a great sexy scene. There is nothing like a well written love scene and we want to know just how your characters get sexy on.

From Worth The Woe
http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/WorthWoe.html

Blurb: Giants' Peak holds adventure and love that is anything but typical for Molly Whuppie...

When food supplies run low in their large family, Molly and her two older but less capable sisters are sent away by their parents, forced to fend for themselves. Molly soon realizes she must put her skills to the test in order to save them all, from starvation, from the sinister woods, and from the fierce giants and vengeful giantesses inhabiting Giants' Peak.

But an encounter with three beautiful giant sisters gives Molly hope that not only will she and her siblings survive, but she might also find unexpected love along the way...

Seven Sexy Paragraphs:


Betta just soothed me and led me to the kitchen. Lizzie and Anna
took the giant’s bed, and Betta’s sisters went back to their own. I
stripped the soaked chemise off as Betta heated some water for me to
wash. She smiled to see me standing there in nothing at all.

She came to me, with warm water and a soft cloth, stroking away
the blood and wrack from my face. She smiled then and kissed me, not
taking me in her arms as earlier, but leaning into it like a naughty
milkmaid stealing one from her shepherd lad.

“Thank you, love,” she whispered against my mouth. Her big hands
covered my neck and shoulders and arms, then down my back and
belly. When they came up to clean my breasts, I arched to meet them
and kissed her, wrapping my arms around her. She dropped the cloth,
heedless of my still-fouled legs staining her chemise, and clutched my
breasts as she kissed back, her tongue conquering my mouth with its
slow strokes.

Her thumbs grazed my nipples, sending the same sparkles through
me as her kiss had, only harder and fiercer now, igniting that space
between my legs until it begged to be touched. I kissed her harder,
shoving my hips against her. She slid a broad thigh in between my legs
and I rubbed against it, trying to quell the need that ached all through
me.

All I did was burn hotter, my skin flushing. She cupped one breast
and bent to tongue the nipple. I rubbed hard against her, the nameless
ache shivering all through me.

“Molly, Molly, I love you. From the moment I saw you, I knew you
were mine.” Her words blew warm over my body, teasing the nipple
even more.

I scarcely listened. Such foolishness was unfortunately common
among pampered daughters who believed in love at first sight. But I
wanted… I had no idea what I wanted. I knew that rubbing might get
me there, or it might not. But the ache rode low in my belly, knotted
and twisting.