It's NaNo Time!

It's November. What does that mean? It's NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month. For the month of November, writers all over the world channel their enthusiasm and talent (and a little insanity) and challenge themselves to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.

This is my fifth NaNo. Each year I've been a winner - in other words, I finished my novel in 30 days or less. I love doing NaNoWriMo. It's great to challenge myself to write. If I win, I have the satisfaction of a completed novel. If I don't finish, at least I set the goal for myself and can finish it another time. No one stands over me with a whip forcing me to write. The only timetable is self-imposed. The only thing I have to do is find the time to write.

Each year, I've tried to find a new novel that inspired me. Each year, I've been surprised at what I've written.

My first year, I wrote a prequel to my science fiction series. "Wall of Time" traces the life of one of the main characters in the "Lone Wolf" series. A seemingly minor character in the first book, by book three "The Maker", she's a main mover and shaker.

My second year of NaNo, I started with the premise: If you were stranded on a desert island, who would you like it to be? "Deserted" went a very different direction from what I'd anticipated, but I'm still proud of it.

Third year, "The Ninja Tattoo" was born. This story was inspired by something which actually happened to me. It was such an odd circumstance, I felt compelled to write about it. This story also went in a very different direction from what I anticipated.

Last year, I wrote "Undiscovered". This novel was inspired by a segment of a dream my friend Mickey Hoffman told me about. A young woman was showing a condo room and witnessed a crime, thus putting her in danger. From that, my story grew, taking me in yet another direction.

This year's story, also inspired by real life, is called "Full Measure". Someone is embezzling from The Breakwater Clinic and it's up to unprepossessing Daphne Winstead to discover who, how and why. Reluctantly accepting the help of Ralan Hendrix, she follows the leads. Will she be able to find the answers before they silence her? Currently 21, 180 words into the story, I'm pretty pleased with it. But once again, I find it going in a very strange direction.

If there's one thing that writing has taught me, it's that every story has its own way that it wants to be told. No matter how an author wishes to impose their will, eventually, the story will take over, the characters develop free will and then it is, as they say, "All She Wrote"

To find out more about National Novel Writing Month, check out www.nanowrimo.org

Sharing Ideas

I was reminded yesterday of how important it is for a writer to have someone to bounce ideas off. My son's girlfriend is an aspiring author. She's smart and creative and I'm sure she'll go far with it. That excites me. I enjoy talking to her, sharing a little advice and getting advice from her as well.

Yesterday, she had the idea for a new story that she wants to write. It's a sci-fi scenario and sounds really cool! If I were a horrible person, I'd steal it and write my own novel, that's how good it is. She started bouncing ideas off my boys (I was napping) and by the time I got up, things were getting interesting. Brainstorming with a bunch of creative people, whether writers or not, can be a lot of fun. However, there's a danger there.

What's the drawback to brainstorming like that? Being overwhelmed with ideas and seeing the direction you'd thought to take change and warp into something else. Each person sees the story going his or her way, not the author's. The more aggressive insist that it must go in a certain direction. Frustrating in the extreme!

When I first started writing my sci-fi series, I asked for my husband's input. He's been an avid
sci-fi fan for many years. Unfortunately, he and I saw the story going diametrically opposed directions. He wanted to play up some of the sub-plots that really didn't need expansion. He got upset with me when I didn't use his ideas, so eventually I quit asking for his input. Though it made things easier in the long run, it also cut me off from a lucrative source of ideas. I liked the repartee the young people engaged in yesterday, and contributed my own perspective. It was fun and, I hope, helpful to her. Having other writers around to discuss stories with is very important. That sort of back and forth exchange is necessary in the creative process.

Authors are, by nature of their career, somewhat solitary individuals. Even in a group of "regular people", the author is watching, listening, categorizing and cataloging the others, filing them away for future use. However, get a group of authors together and you generally can't get them to shut up. They talk about their characters like they are real and discuss subjects, often in public, that would shock and appall "regular people".

For example, the NaNoWriMo group I attend was discussing killing Cliff Brooks. This is one of the challenges presented by the NaNo boards and several of us like to take the challenge every year. Each of us had a particularly grisly, horrific end planned and we discussed it loudly and excitedly in the Panera dining area as we sipped coffee and ate cinnamon rolls. Other patrons actually got up and moved. I guess they thought were were either crazy, demented or serial killers. (Or a combination of the three) It was funny, at least to me.

One reason I love doing my radio shows so much is that I have the opportunity to talk to authors from all over the world. Regardless of our background, genre or country of origin, or writing style, we all have one thing in common--We look at life from a unique perspective. It's that outlook that sets us apart, making us who we are.

To Buy Dellani's Books

NaNoWriMo -excerpt

NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is in full swing. I started on my novel and it's really coming together for me. I'm very pleased with it. I thought for this week's excerpt, I'd post a bit from "Undiscovered". Cadence Stuart just finished showing a condo to a young married couple when shots ring out. She steps into the hallway to see a tall man dressed in baggies, T-shirt, mask and gloves run down the hall and into the stairwell. She gets a good look at him, but he also gets a good look at her. Detective Walter Scott (no kin to the famous Sir Walter Scott) stays at her apartment to protect her in case the guy comes looking. He sleeps on the couch. Fortunately, it's a quiet night. This conversation takes place the next morning.

He showered, but hesitated to shave. His chin and cheeks were tender to the touch. He decided to forgo it. If anyone hassled him, he could say he was growing a beard. He used the aloe lotion once more, slathering it on before he got dressed. He liked being a detective. As long as he was clean cut and neat, he had some leeway on what he wore. He'd chosen a loose fitting linen shirt in pale yellow and a pair of light beige chinos. A hemp necklace and a sunglasses, he looked like he'd walked in off the streets of Miami.

A steaming mug of coffee and a huge plate of food landed in front of him as he was sitting down.

“Timed it just right. I hope you're hungry.”

“Always. And I could eat.” He cursed himself silently for the none too subtle slip up. It was something he and his buddies said all the time. Standard, smart ass comeback number one. “Sorry.”

“What for? Being honest? Male cousins, remember?”

“Gotcha. You said your dad was a cop and some of your cousins? Any of them with DBPD?”

“Yes. Dad's retired. He worked in Orlando. My family's spread all over. You know Jake McMurtry and Sara McTeague?”

“Yeah. Good officers, both of them. There are some McMurtrys in Edgewater too. You kin to them?”

“Oh, God, am I ever. I'm related to most of Volusia County. I practically have to go out of state to find a boyfriend.”

“That'd seriously suck. I'm from Georgia.” He realized that might sound like a come
on and mentally kicked himself. “We moved here when I was sixteen.”

“Did you go to school at Atlantic?”

“We lived in Deltona. Mom moved when I got the job here. Her husband passed and she wanted to be near me.”

“Sorry about your stepdad.”

“Don't be. He was a prick. If he hadn't died when he did, I'd be in prison by now cause I'd of killed him.”

“That bad?”

He nodded. “Better left unsaid.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“My family is so dysfunctional., it has its very own zip code.”

“My family's pretty normal—well, if you define normal as being huge, crazy and redneck.”

He laughed, nodding. “Compared to mine, that sounds pretty normal. My mom and sisters have managed to find the biggest sacks of man shit ever to drag their knuckles on the pavement. I've got a full time job running the bastards off.”

“I should introduce them to my cousins. They're good men, all of them. Not just saying that because we're kin. If we weren't related, I'd date them.”

“How's your track record with men?”

“Aside from the lasagna loser? Not bad. I've had my share of jerks, but mostly I've done well. Best ones get away, you know how that is.”

“Unfortunately. Maybe just not best for you.”

“They end up marrying my friends a lot, so I guess not. My one cousin, that happened to him forever. Every girl he dated ended up married to his friends.”

“I'd have to kill somebody....”

“Yeah, ditto. You'll love this one. One woman said she aborted his baby, but she didn't. She married another man and let him think the kid was his. Doesn't look a damn thing like him, okay? But....”

He got very quiet.

“I'm sorry. I said something that hit a nerve.”

He shrugged. “Not like you could know.” He swallowed his coffee, saying nothing for as long as he could. He had to explain.

“Something like that happened to you?”

“Yeah. Only the bastard knows the kid's not his. He knows and yet my daughter calls him daddy. I've never even seen her.” He swallowed more coffee, hoping his throat wouldn't close up on him.

“That's terrible Scott.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I'm no better at choosing women than my sisters are at choosing men.”

“What it shows us is that there are a lot of shitty people out there.”

He laughed quietly. “Unfortunately. And I deal with them on a daily basis.”

“At least you're getting them off the street.”

“What? Hell, no. I mean the dirtbags I work with.”

That got her laughing and what could have been a very tense moment eased into something more comfortable.

“So, what will they do with me?” She asked suddenly.

“As far as protection? No idea. Sometimes they take you to a hotel somewhere. Other times, patrol the neighborhood. Different levels of protection.”

She nodded, sniffling as she cleared her plate. “I want to thank you again, Scott. I know you didn't have to do what you did.”

“Can't have my star witness scared and alone, can I?” He stood, bringing his things to the sink.

Cadence turned quickly, finding him directly behind her. She hadn't heard him walk up. She was in tears again. Scott put his plate on the counter and took her in his arms. She pressed her face to his shirt, crying softly. He held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring comfortingly in her ear. Not quite sure how it happened, he found himself kissing her. Mouth closed, at first, nothing special about it. Just your average kiss.

She opened her lips, her tongue diving into his surprised mouth. That was all the encouragement he needed. They stood there for several minutes, consuming one another. She clung to him desperately as he possessed her. His phone ringing broke the moment. Cursing, he looked at it. Nessa. He flipped it open, trying not to sound as pissed off and horny as he was.

And Away We Go!

It's Halloween Night and NaNoWriMo participants all over the world are watching their clocks waiting for midnight so they can start officially writing their novels. Like Halloween costumes, NaNo novels are decided on well in advance, sometimes starting as of December first.

I heard about NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, four years ago when a friend asked me if I planned to participate. I'd never heard of it before and decided to investigate. After checking out NaNoWriMo.org, I decided to give it a try.

My first novel, entitled "Wall of Time", is a prequel to my sci-fi series. The first novel, "The Lone Wolf", is due in December 2010. This novel gives insight on one of the minor, but very important, characters in "The Lone Wolf", explaining her origins.

My second novel, "Deserted", didn't go as planned. I started with the idea "If you were stuck on a desert island, who would you want to be stranded with?" It was a good story, but far different from what I envisioned at the beginning of the month.

Last year's novel, "The Ninja Tattoo" is one I'm the most proud of. I got the idea from it from an odd incident that happened to me on the way home from a friend's house one October morning. It struck me as so odd, I decided to put the incident in my novel and the story grew from there.

This year, I plan to write a mystery/ romance combination called "Undiscovered". The basic premise is that a young woman who is showing a condo to a couple witnesses a man running from the scene of the crime. She becomes a target of violence after the police speak to her about the incident.

Below is an excerpt from my 2009 NaNo Novel, "The Ninja Tattoo". This is the opening scene from the novel.

Early morning sun set the sky on fire, glistening off the water, momentarily blinding him. He flipped down the visor then dug his sunglasses out of the glove compartment, sliding them up his nose with one hand. He'd chosen the scenic route to work just so he could enjoy the sunrise. The river looked like molten silver shot with gold strands. The sky was a cheerful blend of rose, lavender, azure, peach and plum. The sun peeping over the horizon was tinged with red, indicating the start of another scorcher. Hot weather was not unusual in Florida, but wasn't the norm for early October.

Teague McMurtry waved to the few pedestrians out at this hour. He knew some of them slightly, since many of them were his neighbors. Working the odd hours he did, he rarely saw anyone. However, since moving a month ago to his small house on Riverside Drive, his neighbors had made a point of coming over to introduce themselves. It was by far the friendliest neighborhood he had ever lived in.

The road was empty as he drove south toward his job site in Oak Hill. He had an estimate to do down there and had to be in New Smyrna by 10:00, leaving him a couple hours in between. By the time he got to the police station in Edgewater, only a few blocks from his home, he had joined a convoy of sorts. In the lead was a bronze Ford F150. Directly in front of Teague was a guy on a motorcycle. Behind him was another motorcycle, a red Jeep and, he thought, a third bike behind the Jeep. It seemed odd since the road had been so empty before. He couldn't quite remember noticing when he came upon these others, but figured they all had the same idea, keeping out of slow school zone traffic on US-1.

The pickup was going the speed limit, which was a little frustrating. In fact, the driver went 25, then 20, 30 and 15. Teague wanted to lay on his horn, but didn't want to startle the biker, so he kept his frustration to himself. The biker didn't look any happier with the truck than he was. From time to time, he glanced behind him, trying to see around Teague's white Dodge Ram. Apparently, the motorcycles were traveling together and somehow Teague had gotten in between them.

At the turnoff for 442, the guy ahead of Teague gestured with his left arm, motioning as if he were turning. Teague slowed, anticipating the right turn, but the biker sped up, his black and white Ninja, following the truck as it continued past the intersection. Instead, the red Jeep, followed by another biker, turned right and headed up 442. This left the Ford truck, Teague and two bikers. It seemed strange to him and he began to wonder what was going on. His overactive imagination clicked into high gear and he started imagining scenarios.

Maybe the guy in the truck is with them and he's giving directions to the guy on the white Ninja? He thought that over, wondering how they were communicating. The guy ahead of him was probably about his age with short, sandy brown hair. He had on a T-shirt, baggies, skater shoes and sunglasses. He wasn't wearing a helmet and he didn't have a cellphone out. So that was probably not the case. The biker behind Teague was also on a Ninja, this one bright blue, He wore a white helmet with a dark visor. He was wearing clothing similar to the man ahead of him. What characterized them both was the fact they were heavily tattooed. What Teague had first taken as a tan or sunburn, on closer inspection, revealed itself to be elaborate tattoos on neck, arms and legs.

The road turned right, coming to an end at US-1. Stopping for the light, the man ahead of Teague leaned back on his bike, glancing at the man behind Teague, he pointed left. The other fellow nodded, giving the lead biker a thumbs up. The light changed and the white Ninja followed the truck while the blue one followed Teague. Feeling a bit paranoid, he moved over to the right lane, anticipating that the biker would go around him. It didn't even occur to him that the other man would stay behind him, but he did. He didn't ride Teague's bumper, rather stayed at least two car lengths back, shadowing him. If Teague changed lanes, so did the biker.

The hairs on his neck stood at attention. Something was decidedly weird. This man's behavior negated everything Teague had ever seen bikers do. They generally crowded until they could pass, then buzzed around the other vehicles way too fast, disappearing suddenly as they sped up. Approaching the subdivision near Oak Hill, Teague signaled his turn. The biker looked ready to follow, but continued down the highway. As Teague checked in at the security gate, the biker slowed, making a U turn at the next intersection, then he continued back up US-1. Once he was cleared, Teague drove to the house whose yard he was landscaping. He tried to put the bikers out of his mind, but their odd behavior was so out of the ordinary, he couldn't.