Editing for this Dummy :)

It is a process for all of that.  It too has a beginning, a middle, and an end.  It helps to have a "Plan of attack."  My first salvo, is to reread the first ROUGH draft.  Just read, no writing anything down, or editing yet.  Then a second re-read I do make notes of the obvious flaws (timeline, keeping the characters names straight).
Next I do the actual outline phase.  This way, I know the way I want to make the story look.  This will be the structure.  For my latest editing foray, I have started chapter 1 4 years after the prologue.  So I did some notes of what transpired in those four years.  The outline functions as a timeline as well.
Plan A was to follow the original draft, fixing the errors.  But I had a huge timeline issue, you could drive a military grade Hummer through.  Actually more like a tank!  So I came up with plan B, which was to have Chapter one begin 10 years after, with the 2nd main character Lucy, fighting to keep her mother alive, to keep her on life supporting feeding.  And it would have fixed the novel somewhat, but then the 3rd main characters would have been screwed.
Why three main characters?  Well, Lucy and Janice would have been secondary, until I realized that they were too strong to be anything but main characters in their own rights.  So it is working out well from that standpoint.  But I'm having to make sure the timelines mix well.  Hence, going back, in some aspects, to be more true to the first draft.
Once that is done, then I make sure that the character names and facts are straight throughout.  Or you have no going against what you has come before.
Finally punctuation, grammer, the nit picky little details that we all hate to have to work with, but make all the difference in comprehension.
Now should everyone follow my way...if it works then yes.  If it doesn't, then take what you need, or move it around so it works for you.  It seems more time consuming, and it is...but it is the way I work most of my editing...but ymmv.

The Care and Feeding of a Muse, or Ode to that most Beautous Creature

The Care and feeding of your Muse....Or Ode to that most Beautous Creature...The Muse.

"What does a muse eat?"  If I had a dime for every person who asked me that question...oh right, I'd have zip!
Honestly, the question never gave me much thought before.  The next question I asked myself, "If they eat...what do they eat?"  The muses were part of Greek Mythology, so maybe something with Feta in it?  Maybe a big honking Gyro?  (And by the way, that is pronounced Euro...made the mistake of calling it a Gy...ro, heavy emphasis on the G sound hard G to a Greek Gyro shop owner once.  He settled me out on it PDQ).
Or maybe ambrosia.  Hmmm....I wonder if they feed on our creative energy, and recycle it into our wellspring of writing?
I do know they are an invaluable asset in our writing endeavors.  They are our partners, our confessors, our breath of energy when we are at our lowest ebbs.  To quote (and pun) a song...they are the "...wind beneath our wings."
But we should not ignore their needs. If we tend them carefully, cautiously, and with GREAT respect... we should get years of partnership from them.  That and camaraderie.  And a jelly donut.
HEY Stop that!!!!!   That last part was not from me!
"Yes it was...I was just picking up on your stomachs thought!"
Uh, good point.  Can't argue with a good Muse!
"Point of order, yes you can...but I wouldn't advise it."
So, do you like this blog?  Does it meet your high standards?"
"Yes."
Good because I'm finished.  I've had my say!  Oh, forgot, they like music (gee wonder where that word came from?) ;)  And chocolate....and an occasional glass of wine.  And pin wheels, and lollipops.
"Don't forget the bright shiny objects."
No, we musn't forget those!
"And rainbows..."
Are you QUITE through yet muse?
"Yea, I think I got it!"
Okay, so the last word is...drum roll please...

MUSE...it isn't for breakfast anymore!

My review of "The Hunger Games" Movie....EXTREME SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!

The Hunger Games Movie Review, by L. Anne Wooley

"May the Odds ever be in your favor."

And so begins the first movie installment of the widely popular trilogy by Suzanne Collins.  I have read all three books of the trilogy twice, and I highly recommend them.  Some movies are close to the books (i.e. Bram Stokers Dracula, however you get sympathy for Vlad in the movie, not so in the book), some are not so close (Harry Potter).
As far as a movie adaptation...this was pretty close to the actual books with some glaring discrepancies.  First, the Mockingjay Pin that Katniss gets, was actually given to her by Madge, the daughter of the mayor.  The movie shows her getting it from (probably)  Greasy Sae.  She gives it to Prim, who gives it back.
Secondly, on the train and in the Capital, Katniss and Peeta are shown stuffing themselves to almost sickness with food.  In the movie, I did not see them touch one scrap.  The book basically shows them using the food to bulk up to survive better in the games, and the fact they never have enough to eat, which should have been brought out more in the movie.
The GLARING screw up, was putting the riot in District 11 in this movie....it happens in the SECOND book...not the FIRST.  The riot happens when Peeta and Katniss are on their victory tour of the districts.  It happens after Katniss thanks Rue, and the other tributes families.  So I have no idea how they are going to handle that when that comes up in book 2's movie.
The scene with Rue was handled exactly as it was in the book....and yes, I bawled.  I'm not ashamed to admit it.  It was very touching.
The costumes were amazing, especially Peeta and Katniss's fire costumes.  Pretty much everything else is very close to the book.  So I was not displeased.
Overall, I felt the movie was well worth the price of admission, and did not soil the book, or sour the book for me.  I give it a big thumbs up!
 

The Ice Maiden for Becca's challenge "Frosty Path"

The Ice Maiden By, L. Anne Wooley

     Act. 1 Scene 1.

     Setting: Washington, DC. Path that runs alongside the mirror pool

     between the Washington, and Lincoln monuments. Winter time late in

     the day.

          Amanda Thornton, a supermodel, is jogging along the path.

          CrunchcrunchCrunchcrunchCrunchcrunch.

          The path below her feet crack under the pressure of her cleat filled tennis shoes. Amanda would run without fail, every day, no matter how bad the weather.

     “John, I have to go to work. Jason is expecting the new novel in a couple of weeks....I sure hope that is what you are working on,” Robert smiled exasperatedly at his lover. He knew better than to push though, John was a workaholic.

     “Just something I'm working on,” John said.

     Robert stepped behind John, and noticed what was on the screen.. “A Screenplay? You've never written a screenplay in your life!” Robert retorted incredulously.

     “Always a first time for everything,” John muttered.

     A heavy sigh was his response. Then he felt Roberts lips on his neck, and he smiled.

     “Don't work to hard on that. You need to finish the novel,” Robert warned. He then turned walking to the door, “Ciao.”

     The absent wave was all he got in response.

     The snow on the ground deterred the other joggers though, and Amanda had the whole trail to herself....well and one other. Unbeknownst to her, someone was up ahead of her, hidden by a tree.

When she reached his position, he stepped out in front of her, arm outstretched, and connected with her neck. She went down on her back. The knife descended too close for her eye to

follow, or to make out a cry. The blood squirted out, and the death rattle came very fast. The blood saturated the snow around the path, and the killer dragged her body deep into the brush.

       John paused. He felt something familiar about the thing. But he felt the need to finish the

Scene. But where to put her body?

      He came through on the other side, and the deepening gloom covered his

movements. He pulled her up, putting his arm around her like he was holding up a drunk. His car was close, and he managed to get her inside the trunk without anyone being any the wiser. There was a plastic liner inside, and he tucked it around her body, like a parent would a child. Except he covered her face last.

     John could not shake the feeling that he knew something about this, the deja vu sense was so strong. He clicked on the Google Chrome Icon on his computer, and looked up the name, “Amanda Thornton.”

His eyes grew big, the first few results were for a model/actress who had been murdered. He remembered the case now. It was big in all the papers, and her body had never been found. The picture of her face came to his mind. Not as it would have appeared when she was alive, rather in death.

       Then he sat back clicking open the document he had started writing in, and then he dove back into the narration.

      He drove for three hours, humming absently to himself, the George Washington Highway led him quickly out of town, he headed towards the Virginia mountains. His cabin was at a higher altitude and secluded.

     His harem was getting larger. He turned off a few hours later, the gravel

drive was slippery with the ice.

     His car navigated the slippery slope, and made it to the top of the driveway. He parked in front of the barn, and the cabin sat to the

right of that.

     He turned off the motor, the adrenalin of getting away once again,

coursed through his veins. The high he got from a successful

slaughter was better than sex.

      John, started looking at Google Earth. This region of the Appalacians was one he was familiar with. His parents cabin was there. He had not been there for ten years; the time that her murder occurred.

     The crunch of his boots on the snow sent chills through his body

and the air was coming out in white puffs. He moved around to the

trunk and opened it. He pulled the bag covered body, placing it over his shoulder,

and walked it into the barnwhere his tools awaited. There was a tractor in it,

and an attached flat bed trailer. He deposited Maggie's body on top of it,

and looked over to where the hacksaw was hanging on the barn wall.

<killer moves over to the wall, where he takes the hacksaw

down from the wall>

               John remembered the tangy scent of blood. He stopped writing, and picked up the phone... “Hello 911....I know where Maggie Thornton and the others are.”

The Wolf and the Crow Flash Fiction for Bony Fingered Limbs Contest

The Wolf and the Crow By, L. Anne Wooley

     Kai sat, legs crossed as he breathed in the peyote smoke. He ignored all the voices that had taunted him. The voices that said he would fail again, even his best friend. He centered himself, using his Grandfathers voice, instructing him in the vision quest. He felt the earth below his body, and the sky above him, as if they were physical beings. The fire in front of him flickered and sizzled. He watched the flames, first they slowed, and then then they stopped. His heart beat slowly, like the drums, and then the dark moved in to surround him. He heard a noise behind him, and turned quickly. He saw ...glowing eyes.

     He leaned slowly to his right, feeling for his knife. He touched the metal comfortingly in his hand. He picked up the hilt and curled his hand around it. He held it slightly in front of him.

The great beast moved into the light of the fire. Its coat was silver, and touched with frosty white edges. Kai looked into it's eyes, knowing breaking contact might mean his death. The two solemnly regarded each other. The wolf blinked but otherwise never broke eye contact.

Kai poised, ready for defense. He felt fear course through his veins, but tried not to let it show. Somehow, he knew the wolf knew.

       The wolf sat, and regarded Kai solemnly. "Well boy, are you going to kill me?"

       Kai jumped about a foot up in the air, he shook his head as if he was hallucinating.                                                                                                                      

       Then another voice broke in, "Yes, are you going to kill the wolf? Because, I would really like some wolf meat. Mighty tasty....mighty tasty." Kai glanced quickly to where the voice was coming from, and he didn't see anything but two glinting eyes. They were closer to the ground.

        "You be silent crow," the snap came so quickly the crow almost did not see it. It jumped back quickly.

       "Oh my, I'm so scared."
      "You're Father Crow." Kai stated.

      "Well spotted boy."

       The wolf sighed. "Human, this is your vision. What do you gain from it?"

       Kai was surprised. He thought he understood that the vision was supposed to tell him, not the other way around.

      "It does not work that way human. This is your vision."

      Kai looked surprised...”You can read my mind?”
      “Of course we can...that's part of the deal,” the crow sounded smug.

      "So I can control it?"

      "To an extent," the wolf responded.

      “So what am I supposed to learn? Why have you never come to me before?” Kai looked puzzled.

      "Human you have much to learn about patience. If you are to lead your tribe, you need patience, wisdom, and courage."

      "And cunning...don't forget the cunning," the crow butted.

      "Cunning has it's uses, but one should never rely on it solely in all situations."

      Kai nodded. "So you are not real, and I don't need to worry about you eating me?"
      "Didn't say that human."

      "What. that you aren't real, or that you won't eat me?"
      "Stupid human. I would have to be real to eat you, now wouldn't I?" the wolf growled and the crow cawed its laughter.

      "Of course not. Sorry," Kai felt very disconnected.

      "You are real if I make you real. My mind controls the vision."

      "You're getting it human," the crow sounded surprised.

      "Now I get it. You are guides, my spirit guides."

      "The boy has some redeeming qualities after all," the wolf admitted reluctantly.

      "You are teaching me a lesson," Kai stated.

      "What lesson are we teaching?" the crow asked.

      "Well wolves are pack animals, much like a tribe," Kai began to work it out in his mind. "There is an alpha wolf that is like a chief. The older wolves train the younger ones, so they are like the shaman."

      "Good human," the wolf nodded, its whiskers rippled in the wind.

       "And what am I then boy?" the crow impatiently broke in.

      "You are the trickster, the cunning one. You wait for the prey to come to you. Or rather their leftovers from the ones who killed them."

      "So far so good."

      "Father Crow, you are the wisest of the guides. What would you have me do?”

      “Only you can find your path, Spirit Walker.”
      “I'm to be a Shaman?” Kai whispered in awe.

      “Yes, Spirit Walker.”

      The crow squawked in response, “You will be the greatest of your tribe.”

      Kai woke to the sunlight on his face....no sign of the wolf or crow.

******

      He walked into his village, and up to the teepee of his Grandfather. His grandfather waited, “I left my village as Kai, and return to you as Spirit Walker.”  

Writing a Story

People ask me "What is your process in writing a story?" Which is usually followed up by the dreaded question..."Where do you get your ideas?" The answer to the first question is pretty much straightforward...though on the surface, maybe not so much. One answer is, however it dang well wants to be written. In other words, whatever works for that project is what I do. The same process may work well for one project...but not for the next. But pretty much there is a method that is shared by all, but maybe not in the same order, is what I should say.

I'm not much of a formula type person. Or much of a form type person either. Though form can be really cool, and there really is one even if it isn't apparent. For last years Nanowrimo novel, I did prep work for it. I did the character sketches/interviews; research on Julliard (setting is like Juliard but not Julliard), and a basic outline. Though I didn't necessarily follow that outline. But I had a basic knowledge of my characters, and plot.

For a short story, especially where there is a prompt like a picture...then brainstorming comes in handy. The problem with prompt writing, is that a lot of people will write the same kind of story. It is really hard to come up with something at times, that other writers aren't doing. It's still a valuable asset to have. There are differences between short stories and novellas/novels, but there are also similarities.

For short stories, I do a rough draft "free-write" where I just get the words down. The structure comes out of that, and then I rewrite/edit from there.

Now as to where I get my ideas... they come from everywhere. Something I read will sometimes spark ideas, writing prompts also do...the news. Snippets of conversations...pictures. Pretty much everywhere. Even people bouncing off their ideas at me, will give me an idea that I can use. But to make the idea unique, that is the hard part.

http://www.facebook.com/groups/LAnneWooley/doc/251585594922057/

Day 4 song headache

Day 4....nuff said.

Okay so Funky Town/Car Wash didn't faze it a bit! My friend Laurie had one that was stuck for a week....”What would you do with a Drunken Sailor.” Which is infinitely much worse than Selena Gomez on the grand scale of things. Btw aside....who makes up the Grand Scale hmmm???? Gotta slap em. Anyhow I digress. See what happens when a mind is invaded by song headaches.

It really wouldn't be too bad if it were like “Unwritten” or ABBA. I love them. I would love them to be in my head pretty much 24/7. Also wouldn't be bad if it were more than the chorus of Selena's song stuck in my head. I did like the rest of the song. 

I don't know of any more drastic measures to employ...guess like a migraine, I have to wait it out!