Among the Shine Clan

Among the Shine Clan – Part 4

among-the-shine-clan-coverThe mission has hardly begun when strange things start to happen. Without warning, several of the platoon disappear off the scanner. No one can explain it, including Kaz, who is watching the scanner.

“What?” Fiddlestix rounded on Kaz who looked at his computer screen helplessly.

“They were there a second ago, then poof! Gone!”

“Thirty people don’t go poof!”

“They just did!” Kaz was worried and scared, which made him rather surly.

Feeling surly herself, Fiddlestix grabbed the computer from his hands, nearly dropping it. Aside from the three of them, there were no other life forms showing on the screen.

“Not even a squirrel! You can’t tell me on this entire mountain there’s no squirrels!” She stopped, lowering her gun, turning in a slow circle. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if anything happens to my people, there will be hell to pay! I promise you that! Just so we’re clear, we’re here to help you. Or haven’t you noticed you’ve got a passel of crazy, cyber soldiers battering down your back door?”

“Master Sergeant? Are you okay?” Harmony’s dark face was clouded with worry.

“I know they’re watching, or listening, monitoring us somehow! Come on! Show yourselves! If I wanted to cause you trouble, would I march in here like a fool? Cowards! Hiding under your mountain! Come out!”

Spinning in a low, continuous circle, she bellowed for all she was worth. Hurling insults, she castigated the landscape. Harmony and Kaz looked more and more concerned. Kaz gasped suddenly, pointing over Fiddlestix’ left shoulder. She felt a tingling. Moving around so she faced the opposite direction, she kept her hands carefully away from her weapons, motioning her men to do the same. Taking a step forward, she focused on the bracken to the west, waiting.

A moment later, the bushes rustled and dozens of huge men poured forth. Even the smallest of them dwarfed Harmony, who was six foot seven. Their bodies were muscled in ways that Fiddlestix had never seen before. All of them were tall, buff and disarmingly handsome. None of them were smiling.

One man stepped forward, literally toe to toe with Fiddlestix. Well over seven feet tall, he loomed over her. At six three, she was used to looking down on most of her team members. This man made her lean back, gazing at his chin. Despite her irritation and disquietude, her heart fluttered, but not from fear. He was, for lack of a more descriptive term, gorgeous. Built along the lines of a Norse god, his golden blond hair flowed down his back. A tight, narrow braid was knotted with a red strip of leather and tossed casually over his left shoulder. His crystal blue eyes bored into her stormy gray ones.

“I’m here.” His deep, husky, musical voice filled her ears. His Southern accent was strong, flavoring his words like honey. “I can’t say I much appreciate the disparaging remarks about my character, though.” His lips made a firm, tight line. A steely glint flickered in the back of his eyes.

“I need to speak to your leader.”

Fiddlestix folded her arms across her ample chest, eyes flickering around the perimeter of the clearing, taking in the opposition. She counted twenty, but figured there were at least twice that many that she couldn’t see.

“About?”

“I don’t wanna explain twice, so I’d like to talk to him.” She made it clear she wasn’t moving until he granted her what she wanted.

“Look, lady, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but do you know who you’re talking to?” A slightly shorter, but more muscular man detached himself from the group behind the blond god.

He was even more massively built than the other man, dark and brooding. They had to be brothers, there was a strong family resemblance. Especially in that defiant jaw. His eyes were dark brown, the other man’s were a clear, vivid blue with a steely edge.

“I’m Master Sergeant Hannah Braun of the United States Army,” she began confidently. “I demand to speak….”

“Honey,” the dark haired man’s brown eyes danced happily. “You’re speakin’ to him right now. After the noise you made in our woods, do you think anyone else was gonna come? Master Sergeant Hannah Braun, meet General Deacon Scott of the Shine Clan.”

Fiddlestix looked stunned. This was the leader of the Shine Clan? He wasn’t any older than she was! Had she heard right?

“You’re General Scott? We were led to believe that your leader was an older man, in his fifties?”

Deacon’s eyes clouded and his jaw worked fitfully as he tried to control his emotions. “My father was killed recently in a raid. You say you know something about the freaks who took our north gate two days ago?”

© 2017 Dellani Oakes

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For More About Dellani

author, Cereal Authors, Excerpts, Fantasy, Fiction, Life, paranormal, Romance, Ruth Davis Hays, Sci-Fi, Uncategorized, YA

So New, It Doesn’t Even Have a Title

A work in progress:

The juice box was definitely against me. Its resistance was punctuated by a taunting titter.  My efforts to open it were futile, it mocked.

 

WIP copyNo, wait. The snickering was not the juice box. It came from down the lunch table.  I didn’t even have to look their way. I knew who was laughing, and I didn’t want to see if it was me they were laughing at.  In my heart, I knew it was.

 

I continued to stab at the little cellophane covered hole with the sadly beveled end of the hard plastic straw like Van Helsing at the climax of a bad B movie. The final strike bent my straw, but rewarded me with a squirt of lukewarm apple juice in the face. An arterial explosion worthy of the best special effects artist in the business.

 

The laughter from the perfectly coifed girls at the other end of the table could not be ignored this time.  My life was not a bad horror movie; it was a comedy and I was the hapless victim of a situational shtick.

 

Staring down at the lunch tray, I watched the juice drown my stale, rectangular pizza slice.  At least, I wasn’t hungry anymore anyway.  My appetite was ruined by the whispered jokes about me destroying the little paper box with my brute strength.

 

I closed my eyes and swore that if I heard one more comment from those four makeup-slathered, social media celeb wannabes about me being a “she-male”, I’d flip this table on their heads.

 

Not that I hold any direct animosity for She-males, or what have you, but I do resent lies being spread about me.  And, I resent those who start the lies.  Namely, Brittany.  My mom says I spend way too much time worrying about Brittany, her crew, and what they think or say about me.

 

Mom says it doesn’t matter what others think, only what I know about myself.  Yeah, she’s full of inspirational poster stuff like that.

 

Sorry, Mom.  But, it’s hard not to see myself reflected in the eyes and jeers of my fellow students.  My peers.  What a joke.  I have so very little in common with them that I hesitate to call them peers of any sort.  Alas, for the next year or so, I must.

 

Of course, using the word ‘alas’ in casual conversation is one of the things these girls would tease me about.  Can I help it if my grandfather read Shakespeare to me for the last fifteen years of his life?

 

The siren-like bell blared from the hall to announce the next class would begin in five.  I gathered my sloshing tray and stood, never glancing at Brittany once.  Fifth period was next.  Gym class, right after lunch.  Brilliant scheduling.

 

When was this nightmare going to end?

*****************************************************************************

I woke up the other day recounting my dream several times as I did to try and remember it. The sights, the feelings, the familiar trappings of high school. I often dream that I’m back in school, but never had I wanted to write them into a story. This one was fun.  Well, to me, running for my life and fighting creatures while possessing an unnatural strength in a dream is fun.  Others may call it a nightmare.  Either way, it spawned this new character. This is a little beginning snippet from what I will call my first Urban Paranormal Young Adult story.

It is such an infant at the moment that it has no name.  Heck, I just came up with the protagonist’s name this morning.  I hope you enjoy!

Among the Shine Clan

Among the Shine Clan – Part 3

among-the-shine-clan-coverFiddlestix and her platoon are on their way. She’s found herself in charge, and isn’t happy about it. Hoping that things will go well, she’s prepared for the mission to go horribly wrong.

CAUTION STRONG LANGUAGE

“I have the feeling I’ve got cross hairs trained on me,” she mused, not voicing her disquiet to her people.

Her attitude was cocky and confident. She was damned if her troops were going to see her scared. Her gut might be tied in knots, but they wouldn’t know it. She’d learned a long time ago that the leader’s worry could transmit itself to the troops.

Less than five miles into Shine territory, strange things started to happen. Kaz contacted her over her headset. He wasn’t very clear, his signal breaking up.

“Uh, Master Sergeant?”

“Talk to me, Kaz.”

“The point team just disappeared.”

“Do you mean you lost sight of them?”

“No, Master Sergeant. They fuckin’ disappeared. Right off my screen. I sent Diaz and Harmony out to look for them, nothing. No sign.”

“On my way.”

Using hand signals, she brought her people in to tight formation and sped up. She was with Kaz in less than two minutes. Looking at the screen, she saw he was telling the truth. There should be a readout of all the squad members, but the bars for the point team were blank. Not flat lined, just blank. Not even their names appeared by the bar.

“Shit! Sound off!” she growled into her headset.

For the next thirty seconds, her soldiers stated their names. She came up another three short. That made, with the point team, seven.

“What the hell?”

Something was happening she had no control over and didn’t understand. Was it Shine Clan or the cyber unit? They weren’t finding bodies, so maybe they were still alive. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t have to like a situation to get the job done.

“Sound off every five minutes,”she ordered.

Walking slowly, cautiously, quietly, they proceeded deeper into Shine territory. The hairs on Fiddlestix’ neck danced with nervous energy. The feeling that she was being watched through a powerful scope increased the closer they got. She’d picked up the trail of the cyber unit shortly after the point team disappeared. They might be super soldiers, but they sucked at covering their trail. It occurred to her that they might have done it on purpose to lure them in. Her paranoia increased and she tightened security.

Five minutes later, three more of her people were gone. She called a halt. No one had seen the people disappear. It was as if they melted into the mist that surrounded them.

“It isn’t possible,” she muttered. “Grown people, soldiers, don’t just disappear! It is not possible!”

After the next sound off, four more were gone. Stifling a scream, she called another halt. Anticipating that the Shine Clan had sophisticated surveillance equipment, she ordered her people to stay put.

“Set up a perimeter patrol. No one leaves for any reason. I don’t care what you see or hear. Take cover and stay put. Kazinski, Harmony, you’re with me. Diaz, you’re in charge.”

“Yes, Master Sergeant,” she responded.

“I don’t give a shit what McLain says,” she told Harmony and Kaz. “I’m looking for the Shine Clan leader. If I can talk to the person in charge, I’ll feel better.”

They kept walking and she kept talking. To the men, it seemed like she was babbling, but she was banking on the fact that the Shine Clan could hear her.

“I don’t want my people hurt. We didn’t come here to cause trouble. We want to get the cyber unit and go home, then everyone’s happy.”

Kaz and Harmony looked at her like she was crazy. They knew this, why was she telling them something they already knew?

“Master Sergeant?” Kaz sounded worried.

“What?” She stopped babbling long enough to listen to him, but she kept moving.

“They’re gone.”

“What? Who?”

“The rest of them. Diaz and them. Just like the others.”

“What?” She rounded on Kaz who looked at his computer screen helplessly.

“They were there a second ago, then poof! Gone!”

© 2017 Dellani Oakes

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Article, books, JD Holiday, publishing, Writing Process

Putting a book cover together by JD Holiday

9780981861425-PerfecColor wTextPicBack MatterFOR bLOG]_bakTo put a bookcover together you need to make a template or get one from your

print company. This is a mock-up of the one I got from my printer. The cover must extend to the

outer lines of the template in order for the book to have the trim line which gives the book its

nice neat final look. In other words, the whole area of the template must have the book’s cover color in it, back and front. The area right inside the outer line is called the Bleed area which is cut off at the second line in on the template all the way around the bookcover. That will be the actual book size when it is done.

The front of the book is on your right hand side and the back cover is on the left side.

The spine is the middle area between the back and front covers. The spine size is based on the number of pages and the paper size of the book and that is calulated by the printer.

The red lines (a 1/2 inch from the trim line) on both the covers is the area you must keep all text and graphics in.

~~~~~

Next I painted the front cover and top part of the back cover in Corel Painter Essentials

Then I brought the cover into Indesign CS 3 to work.

~~~~~~

I used Indesign CS 3 to create my book and cover, though I do most of the artwork in art/graphic software.

This is a example of a text frame which using the Text Tool you put in the template and do your typing.

You use the Selection Tool to resize the Text frame when needed by grabbing any of the small squares around the frame and dragging it. You can also copy and paste your text from your word processor into the text frames.

For graphics you would go to File> Place find your picture on your computer (tif) and click Open.

The Selection Tool in Indesign will become loaded and you just click the place in your template or frame that you want the picture or graphic to go.

I rotated the cover to the left and typed in the spine text.

Adding all the items needed  I created the book’s cover!

author, books, Cereal Authors, Fiction, JD Holiday, Truth, As Strange As Fiction

Truth, As Strange As Fiction: Man With A Gun

   Truth, As Strange As Fiction: Man With A Gun496515016

    by JD Holiday

 

              Back in the mid 70’s, I was the sole provider for my family. It was me and three year daughter named Jennifer while my husband, Angelo, interned in a hospital for a job in the Nuclear Medicine field.

              Up until this time I was a cashier in a supermarket but I could not make enough money to pay the bills. Not knowing what else to do to find a job where I would make enough, (I knew at the time, your months rent should be the same as your weekly salary,) I bought the newspaper every day.

              Looking back it seemed it wasn’t long, and only about five job interviews, until the right job came along that I thought could make what I needed to make ends meet. It was $40 short of the rent but I would get a raise after a trail point to make this happen.

              My new job was as a sample girl for a cosmetic factory. My jpb would be making samples for the customers and taking bacteria samples and sending them for quality control. I haven’t a clue how I was to be a success as a sample girl, but they wanted me and I went for it. Part of my job was to get to know all the likes and dislikes, and the dos and don’ts of make-up for each and every one of their customers, which included many cosmetic companies world wide. You would have been surprise to know which ones, especially when one very famous company was suppose to have its make-up made in France and not in a rural town in New Jersey.

              I joined the chemical lab techs (a place ripe for stories and some I will pass along here as well!) and soon, I must say proudly, I had all the customers products down to memory. Mind you, I was not to deal with the customers directly but make the two bosses, who were also brothers and had inherited half of the cosmetic factory, look like they care for each and every one of these moguls of the make-up industry. It wasn’t long before I stepped into a position equal to that of the lab manager, a pill popping woman named Bromilda, where I bypassed her and making any conversation with her exposive, and dealt only with the two bosses.

              The lab itself was really just cheap kitchen cabinets along the four walls of the room with two rows of the same cabinets occuping the center back to back. My station in the lab was in the far corner against a wall and behind the make-up formulas filing cabinet that hid me from sight and blocked anyone from seeing me from the company office door on the other side of the filing cabinet.

              About four months into the job a young man about my own age was hired to join the other lab techs and was given the station next to me. He was tall and attractive and seemed sociable. He laughed alot. And he found he could find something funny in everything. I did not like him. To me not everything is funny or amusing. I have found people who do, just might lack empathy and even sympathy for others.

              On his third day he came in and stood at my station looking down at me. He stated, “I want your station.”

              Not even hello or a smile. He placed his coat on the back of my chair. “I need my back to the wall,” he added and reached to his coat pulling open one side still staring at me.

              My stare went from his face following his arm to the inside of his coat to see an extremely large gun. At the time I had no knowledge of guns other than they are used to kill.

              Without a word, I opened my stations drawers and cabinets and removed everything. We silencely moved together as in a strange dance of sorts to changed stations, my thoughts in a turmoiI. What was to happen with this strange and dangerous guy. I had to work this job everyday with him right next to me, were my thoughts.

              I found the whole thing surreal. A nightmare really. And stranger still that no one ever ask me way the change! Afraid, I never said. The only time I knew someone notice was the first time one of the bosses came in, looked at my station with a startled look. I put up my hand, his smiled and stepping toward me without a word about it.

              For two months I wondered what others thought about this man.Did he seem normal to the others? I guess he was not theatening to anyone else. Could that be? The only thing he did wrong that was noticeable, in my opinion, was to be late almost every day. And then one day the factory manager, Manny, who I did all the bacteria sample for and I knew well, came running through the lab and straight into the office. Later, he was to tell me the ‘man with the gun’ was selling drugs in the parking lot to factory personal.

              The next day, we were all told the those who are late three time within a two weeks would be fired.

              You can guess what happened. And two weeks later, I moved back to my

station   ~JD Holiday

You can find out more about me on Cereal Authors at:

https://cerealauthors.wordpress.com/category/jd-holiday-2/

My site: http://JDHoliday.blogspot.com

Among the Shine Clan, Uncategorized

Among the Shine Clan – Part 2

among-the-shine-clan-coverFiddlestix’ day isn’t going well. First, she is given a hell of an assignment, then she finds out that Lieutenant Frieze, who was supposed to be in command, is probably malingering. To confirm this, she goes to the infirmary to find him doped up on pain meds.

“He came in complaining of a pulled muscle. Honest, Stix, I couldn’t find evidence of it, no matter what tests I ran. He didn’t have a bump, bruise, strain or—bulge,” his voice caught and he gasped as her hand moved up his thigh. “Nothing, babe, I swear. He’s as healthy as you or me.”

“But yet he’s doped to the gillies, why’s that?”

“He insisted. Low pain tolerance, he claims.”

“Is that in addition to his yellow streak and cold feet?”

Brant chuckled seductively. He held the same opinion of Frieze and McLain that she did. His hand fell on hers gently, holding it at the top of his thigh, moving her fingers between his legs a bit.

“Hey, why don’t you come by later? I get off shift at 1900.”

“Can’t. We’re ready to bug out. I have to go.”

“Will you come by if you get back?” He turned worried gray eyes to hers. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Hannah.” He only used her given name when he was concerned.

When I get back, I’ll come see you.”

“Be safe, Hannah. I know you’re not religious, but I’ll be praying for you.”

Heedless of what others might think of him associating with a non-commissioned officer, he leaned over and kissed her lingeringly. “Be careful. Listen to that little, paranoid voice of yours and do exactly what it says. I’ve never known your hunches to be wrong, Hannah.”

“I’ll be careful, Brant. I promise.”

She left the infirmary, feeling even less confident than before. Muttering and mumbling to herself, she nearly walked into Captain Ingrid Bark. The captain stopped Fiddlestix with one arm, nearly clotheslining her.

“Whoa,” she said sharply, grabbing the other woman by the shoulder. “What’s up, Master Sergeant? I heard your squad is going into combat without Frieze?”

“He claims he’s injured, ma’am.”

“Does he really?” She didn’t like Frieze either.

“Let’s just say that I’m skeptical, shall we?” Never one to gossip, she wasn’t going to start now.

“Do you need me to go?”

“No, Captain. I can handle it. Do me a favor though?”

“Anything, name it.”

“Watch my back. Have me a way out. I don’t like this one, Ingrid. This is not wise, entering Shine Clan territory without asking. It could be construed as an act of war, and that’s a giant we don’t want to wake. We have no idea what their actual manpower is.”

“McLain can’t contact them?”

Fiddlestix shrugged. “Can’t or won’t. Take your pick. I need to go. Thanks for your help.”

“Come back safe, Hannah. I’ll get the ball rolling for you before you lift off.”

Fiddlestix tried to smile, but it was nearly impossible. She ran to the airship just as Kaz was jumping out to come after her.

“What about Frieze?”

“He’s not coming.”

“I got that. Is he really hurt?”

She gave him a level look. Kaz turned away, bellowing at the members of the elite force.

“Heads up! Master Sergeant’s in charge! Sit down, shut up, mind your manners!”

The airships took off, carrying them in stages to the drop point. Twenty miles from the target, they were unceremoniously jerked out the back in a low altitude drop that left Fiddlestix slightly bruised and breathless. After her people regrouped, she did a headcount, ordering everyone to take a few minutes to eat. She would have preferred to take a smaller group, no more than twenty well trained men and women, into the mountains. Upwards of forty were too many to keep track of. They were nervous and that made them unpredictable. Going after the cyber unit was scary enough, but the idea of going into hostile territory to get them made it worse.

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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Cereal Authors, Excerpts, Fantasy, Fiction, Ramblings, Ruth Davis Hays, Uncategorized, YA

Realms of Light — A fanfic continued

Again, a disclaimer:  I do not own, nor did I create, these characters. I wrote this as homage to my favorite writers, J. R. R. Tolkien as well as Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. — Ruth Davis Hays

 

Chapter 2

 

Days came and went more merrily for Frodo.  He had met with Tasslehoff every day since the kender had left his hobbit hole.  Together they talked of adventures and times long passed.  They shared favorite paths and favorite habits such as pipeweed and ale.  Frodo introduced Tasslehoff to all his old friends, some the kender had met on his own and some he had simply seen from afar.  Sam joined them occasionally for a long walk and a good talk, though to be honest with himself Sam found the kender rather tiring and he would often make the excuse that Rosie would miss him if he stayed too long.   He was amazed by Frodo’s ability to listen to the kender’s almost continuous chatter.

“He’s a stronger soul than I.” He would say as he would make his way back home to his wife.

In his time with Frodo and Tasslehoff, Sam wondered at the fact that Frodo never mentioned to his new friend about his own great adventure and the important part that Frodo had played in the saving of his own world.  The Ring had been mentioned, but Frodo skimmed over it and talked of others’ adventures and dealings.  The missing finger was never mentioned at all.  Sam tried to tell Tasslehoff once or twice about Mr. Frodo’s amazing journey, knowing that it would rival the kender’s many tales of heroism, but Frodo would quickly switch the topic to either Sam’s bravery or someone else’s part.  This worried Sam.  He felt that Frodo was doing himself a discredit by not telling of how he had destroyed the Ring and saved Middle-earth.

“To be honest, it was Gollum that actually got the ring into the fire, Sam.” Frodo would remind him each time Sam brought the subject up between them afterwards.  Then he would give Sam that knowing look as if to say, “You know this, you were there too.”

Reluctantly, Sam would drop the subject.

 

One afternoon, Tasslehoff popped his head into Frodo’s front window and invited the hobbit to come to meet his cousins.  Frodo, who had been on the verge of dark thoughts, readily agreed.

As they walked under an overcast sky, Tas explained, “I don’t really know if they’re my cousins or not.  We kender rarely keep track of such things as family trees or distant relations.  But, Uncle Trapspringer is Gintilli’s uncle too, so we must be related somehow.”

Frodo simply smiled.  He was growing quite fond of the strange habits and quirks that kenders seemed to have.  They were refreshingly different from his fellow hobbits.  Normally he would have questioned the kender further, but today he was a little distracted.

Earlier that morning, Frodo had accidentally slammed his right hand in the wardrobe door.  The pain had been sudden and over with quickly, but it had succeeded in bringing his attention to his missing digit again.  For a few minutes after it had happened, Frodo felt the ache in the four fingers on his hand, but at the instant that it had occurred he could have sworn that the absent finger had been in pain as well.  He had pondered this for hours.  He had been trying experiments with his fingers to find out if he could really feel anything from that maimed spot or if it had been his imagination.  He had concluded that it was his imagination and this had put him into a sullen mood.

Tasslehoff’s invitation could not have come at a better time.

Though the weather was gloomy looking, it was cooling to the skin and held a certain crispness to the air that reminded Frodo of autumn days in the Shire.  He breathed deeply and emptied his mind of frustrating thoughts.  Half listening to Tas’s chatter, he watched the landscape around them change.

They approached a small, cottage with a thatched roof and a tall, heavy limbed tree towering over it.  Frodo stopped and gaped at the size and sheer beauty of the tree.  Tas stopped as well and noticing the hobbit’s reaction looked rather pleased with himself.

“It’s a Vallenwood tree.” Tas said proudly.  “I made it myself.  It’s a little bigger than the ones back home, but I thought, ‘if I’m going to think up a Vallenwood tree, why not think up the biggest one I can?’ so, Tah-Dah!”

“It’s beautiful.  Do you live in that cottage?”

“That!?” Tas shook his head.  “No, what fun would that be?  That’s where Flint stays.  I stay up there.”  The kender pointed to the branches of the towering tree.  Nestled among the leaves was a sprawling tree house with wandering catwalks zigzagging through the branches.

Frodo gasped in astonishment.

“I always wanted to live in a house like the ones in Solace.” Tas chirped merrily. “I told Gintilli about them once and she thought ‘Why not make one?’  So, we did.  Don’t worry, it’s bigger on the inside than it looks.”

With that, Tasslehoff bounded towards a ladder made of wood and rope.  He stopped only to make sure that Frodo was following him and then scurried to the lowest walkway and waited.

****

Article, author, Fiction, JD Holiday, Writing Process

The Write Dream by J.D. Holiday

Permit your dreams to see the daylight. ~ by Bernard Kelvin Clive

   

           So you don’t think you can write but you have thoughts that could be a story. You can imagine how a scene or two would work. Come on, we all have those times when a story could start with a thought. An imagining. A daydream or even a nightmare. So what’s holding you back?

              Is it your horrible spelling, grammar and maybe it’s you lack of understanding of writing techiques.

              I believe the best tool at your disposal is reading. Read what interest you. Read what you enjoy and especially read the genres you think you would like to write in.

              While reading other author’s books or ones written by your favorite authors, pay attention to how the book is written. From good books you can see what you should do and what you shouldn’t. Learning the skill of writing is in the soaking up of techiques and putting that and your imagined story all into your own words. You want to learn how to show your readers your story using scenes you write so they can feel like they are there in the story with your characters.

              Writers write to express who they are and to tell what they know, to teach and share the stories they see clearly in their imagination. Some write to purge unhappiness or injustices for themselves and others, to entertain themselves first, and then, those readers who find their works. Writing takes you away from your own reality, to places you create. You can forget your immeditate problem taking a brake from it when you write, or read. Use what you know from your life in your stories. If you are writing for children use your childhood and think back to it. Think like you did when you were a kid. I write out my scenes as I see them in my minds eye, and make an outline that I update as I go along.

              You can always get help with spelling, punctuation and grammar. You can always pay someone to edit for you. You should invest in a good dictionary, thesaurus, and books on grammar and writing whether you find them on online sites or books that sit on your desk along side of you, or both.

              So if you have a story to tell, invest some, and read a lot. Give it a go and write it. If you haven’t tried before, the whole experience might take you places you might like.

The best book I’ve read about writing is:

HOW TO WRITE SHORT STORIES by Sharon Sorenson

This book is amount the most valuable books I own. Even if you think you will not be writing short stories you might find that writing chapters is like writing short stories.

The Only Grammar Book You’ll Ever Need: A One-Stop Source for Every Writing Assignment https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1580628559/ 

 

 ~  © 2016 JD Holiday

Character Quotes, Dellani Oakes, Uncategorized

Character Quotes from One Night in Daytona Beach by Dellani

One_Night_in_Daytona_Beach_by_Dellani_Oakes - 200“I’ve missed you, Jamie.”

Shivering, she held his face as directed, giving him a kiss. “Me, too.”

“Seeing anyone?”

“Not really.”

They straddled the bike again, with her in front, holding the handlebars. His long, sinewy thighs clenched against hers from behind.

“Is that a yes or no? I don’t speak Biker Babe anymore.”

“No one steady.”

“Does he think that?”

Jamie blushed, turning her head to look at him. “Why all the questions, Wick? Got some burning desire to know all my secrets?”

Draven nibbled her neck, cheating the angle a little, so he was still camera ready. “I’ve got a burning desire, Humphrey, but it isn’t about your secrets.”

© 2017 Dellani Oakes

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Character Quote: Geordie And The Beam Of Light by J.D. Holiday

Cover Geordie And The Beam Of Light 7-27-16“Well, I have an idea!Geordie said. He hurried back into his studio. Loud noises came from inside before Geordie shouted, I have it!

He came out carrying a sign that read:

DETOUR

PLAY AREA

GO AROUND

“Maybe this will help,” Georgie said. “I have to get back to work. I’m close to a breakthrough. Let me know what happens.”

Cordelia peeked inside the door of the dark studio. She could not see anything. “What are you working on?” she asked Geordie. AAAAAB Geordie Page 5 beam of light racing from the field SMALLER-CLOSER 7x10 SIGN for Online

“The greatest invention ever,” Geordie said. “It will be a treat for all of us.”

Geordie And The Beam Of Light,  Future picture book by J.D. Holiday

http://jdholiday.blogspot.com/p/my-first-picture-for-picture-book-story.html