Rushing ~ I Wasted Time and Drive

I so wanted to get my work out that I took short cuts and destroyed my novel openings. Joined a Beta reading group, while I was devastated over the reviews, I did learn some valueable lessons. 

  1. Never take it for granted that your work has been corrected. I trusted a couple of people to format and proof read my work. I got comforatable leaving my success to others and it costed be big time.  So I pulled all my novels down and decided to re-read them again myself. Was I that retarded in writing 4 drafts with language that was so confusing ~ I felt as though someone else wrote the work? After re-reading the novel twice and reading the reviews left by my peers,  I threw it across the table and didn’t look at the computer for three weeks.

Waking up at three in the morning, I gathered the pages placed them in order and brewed a pot of coffee. One of the few time in my life when I so wanted a cig ~ chewed 4 sticks of gum instead and pulled out my 300 soundcloud House Music saved likes and played it. Sorry neighbors. Reading my novel out loud. I’ve made my own corrections thanks to ProWritingAd ~ I know Grammely is the rave, but to me it’s a pain in the ass. So this time once I’m finish I do know of a great formatter and I’m going to replace my works on Amazon and Goodreads. Being bold and resubmit my piece to the same beta reading group. Hiopefull, the reviews will be different. 

Treasure Mine ~ Partial Chapter Sample

A Free Partial Chapter Sample:

THOMAS SLOWLY TURNED the knob of her door pushing it forward wanting to see how loose the door was from the frame. His ear to the door he heard footsteps stop close by. So, she wasn’t sleeping yet, damn. He backed away from the door and headed around the corner holding his breath waiting. Morgana shut down all the lights and tried to look thru the cracks of the door frame. Creeping to the door, no sense trying to look thru the peek hole, she knew someone was on the other side. She saw the knob turn. Grabbing hold of the slugger in her right hand she slid the safety chain off track. Taking a deep breath, she unfastened the lock and pulled the door open, left leg bracing the door the bat in both hands held high. No one was there. Thomas already moving down the stairs outside into the night running towards his car, but not before a pair of yellowish/orange eyes tracked him.

     Stashing the car, changing the plates on it with another set, making sure that no one was in the area he pulled back the plank and entered the abandoned building. He’s pissed that this black-market check and Meth issue was causing such a problem.  I don’t want to hurt the woman, but she saw me now more than likely the police have a positive ID on me by now.  Need to get the hell out of town, I’ve already messed up shooting the salesclerk. Looking for his half-empty bottle of Dewar he settles down on his makeshift bedding. Growl, grrrh, “What the fu…!!!!! Oh, Shit!”  Dropping the bottle, he lunges for the long pole on the ground ~ A damn panther staring right at him. How did it get in? He’s too afraid to make any sudden moves this pole not gonna do shit against this mother. Get to the gun. He moves towards the wall; the beast is right there. Growl, Roarrr, Grrrh. Ok, so not gonna work. The large cat sits down licking its lips, it snaps up his hat and shakes its head from side to side rendering the hat into shreds of rags. Just as quick as it appeared it walks away thru into the darkness.

     It took a little over twenty minutes to get his nerves settle when a strange man walked into his living area metal baseball bat in hand. “Look, man, I have nothing you want no money, no food and no liquor ~ go squat somewhere else.”  This time Thomas made it to the wall area where the gun was hidden. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’ve been busy tonight and I need for you to sit on that crate so we can talk.  This conversation will decide your fate if you have one after we finish speaking.” Thomas stood transfixed next to the drawer that held the pistol he could see it right there within arm’s reach. The problem was he didn’t have the arm, he couldn’t bring his body around quick enough to grab the blasted thing. He did what the man suggested and sat down on the crate. “Do I owe you money or something?” “In a manner of speaking yes you do.” Chandler positioned himself against the wall the bat within reach, he had no intention of using it but it made for a nice deterrent towards stupidity. “This must be the worse week of your life outside of losing your arm that is. You have a drug habit, you shot the store clerk, then you make the mistake of endangering my woman.”

     Chandler let these events sink into Thomas’s brain. Looking around the remnants of Thomas’s belongings he doesn’t have much, but his military training hasn’t left him. His clothes are folded as neat as possible he’s used crates as drawers and everything is neat and tidy. The man still had his dignity. He doesn’t get the feeling that this man is a career criminal more like a man that’s made bad choices and just got caught up in the fallout.  Frustrated and defeated by his situation and handicap.

     “Look, man, I wanted to scare the lady, she saw me shoot that clerk, I’d missed my Meth appointment, and all I wanted was money for a fix. Don’t expect you to understand me or forgive me but, It’s the third time I’ve lost my containers. They are going to red flag me and I’d have start the detox program all over again.”  Thomas rises. “you better be shifting your seat to get more comfortable. Trust me you won’t make it over here quick enough to do any damage.” 

     Thomas hears the veiled threat of violence underlining the words. The man’s voice isn’t loud or blustering just cold, deadpan and matter of fact. He’s seen his kind before a power player, this man would deliver whatever he promised. 

     “Listen no need to get violent, I was going for the bottle.”

     “You don’t need the bottle besides I want you sober so you can make the correct choice for your future. I’ve got a proposition for you so pay attention if I were to kill you, my woman, is safe and the police would rejoice ~ case closed. You, however, won’t fair so well and you won’t have any future option for turning your life around.”

     Thomas is still, was there a chance he might come out of this alive? Push comes to shove he wanted to live just not like this, but he’d take whatever he could get. Glimpsing into the man’s eyes Chandler saw a glimmer of hope then the light diminished as if the man realized his plight in life. What good was hope if you had no way to make that dream a reality? Chandler took a square ornate box from behind his back and placed it on the floor between them. “Here’s the deal Thomas.”

     “How’d you know my name?”

     “You wanna hear this or not? You will leave the country never to return if you do I will end your life. No questions asked, no negotiating if I find you: you’re dead.  Go through a detox program of my choice once you have graduated from the program in good standing ~ other provisions will be made available to you. I’m a prominent businessman from out of state, and I have several holdings aboard that could use your expertise in security. I’d be interested in retaining your services for which you will be handsomely rewarded. For instance, the government will only provide you with a standard arm as per insurance. I’m not hampered by insurance protocal. ‘ll consider a designer prosthetic arm.

     Damn, this man knew how to work a boardroom meeting. He was a heavy power player, and deadly yet he walked and carried himself like an average joe. No airs, none of that haute pretentious attitude that most rich people draped over themselves. Thomas looked at him and knew that black ops had nothing on him in the way of combat training. He could write his own book. His lady was lucky to have his protection she also seemed like a decent person. “What’s the box for?” Chandler smiled for the first time since entering the building. He’d have to watch his time it was close to dawn.

     “That’s the game changer Thomas. If you agree to my terms, you’re on my payroll. You’ll pack what you need to take with you, I’ll have some of my people work up a background for you, a new name, we’ll work on your appearance to get through security and you will leave here by tomorrow morning. An asp is inside the box. Upon placing your hand all the way inside you are pledging your loyalty to me and mine. I pledge never to break from you for as long as you pledge never to break from me or mine.”

     Thomas looks at his employer, “don’t tell me. If I do, I’m dead.”

Chandler allowed a grin to appear

“I so appreciate a quick study.”

     Sitting there looking at that box, there’s been many a strange thing tonight, this might be his ticket out of the jam he’d gotten himself into. God, he’d been praying for a break. His mother would know what to do ~ he missed her so much. Longing to have one more day with her to tell her how much he loved her as a parent and a friend.

      Her untimely demised rocked his world upside down and inside out. He always told her – her friendliness and unwavering belief in the goodness of everyone would be the death of her one day. She was a loving, god fearing woman, church every Sunday and volunteered at the woman’s shelter. She’d give you the shirt off her back if you needed it. Somehow after dad died, she cared for them both on her meager salary until she got her promotion.  Often working three jobs: she scrimped and saved, paying for his first year of college before he enlisted.   He would often beg her not to believe everything people told her. “God is my Protector and my Shield, this is what I’m called to do Thomas. Be not afraid for me.”  So, one night after leaving the hospital working a fourteen-hour shift she’s waiting at the bus stop to come home.  A woman approached her asking for food she opened her purse to give the woman some money and was hit in the head from behind. She woke up gagged and bound in her own home, several hours later. A man and a woman ransacking her place looking for drugs and more money, they knew she worked at the hospital, she had treated the man two weeks ago in the ER for syphilis. When they couldn’t find what they wanted, they left her to bleed to death, but not before they tortured her with burning cigarettes, boiling hot water, stab wounds from several sized kitchen knives. He came home honorably discharged with the new Jag position already in place. Two weeks early a surprise from Uncle Sam. He remembered fantasizing about the smile and look on his mother’s face as he purchased a bouquet of wildflowers and a stuff rabbit from the local florist. Her pet name for him as she had given him a choice of a rabbit or hare ~ some choice. As he crossed the street entering the building, he never thought he would come home and find her dead broken and discarded in her bed.

     The Medical Examiner informed him she had a trace of the syphilis germ in her body. He used his position within the court system, every available contact and then some to gain access to the ER reports and found the name of the man she treated. It took two years to find both the man and his sister: the woman who approached his mother that fateful night. The fools tried the same scenario in Nebraska. His persistence paid off, he found them and made them pay ~ The Iranians having taught him a few new twists on torture.  Downfall was his carelessness in the cleanup, his mentor having cornered him and giving him an option to leave while he worked on damaged control. Turning in his bar card he walked away and never regretted his actions.  

 

Thank you,

Otelia

 

    

Vol. 3 Phase 1 Completed

My-ro-na!! The first draft of You Can’t Have Us ~ Grace from the Dead Silent Voices Series: Vol. 3, is finally finished. As of 3:14 PM Thursday March 22, 2018. My fingers are so tight and numb, I’ve been here today on the computer since 6 A.M. this morning. One cup of Chocolate Raspberry Coffee and a Blueberry Muffin.  I’m starved and need to move my poor stiff body. Thank goodness for Sound-cloud and my 532 saved House Music favorites. 

Now that I’m over this hurdle, I’ll work on gathering some images and send those to my book-cover creator. Proofreading and editing will be done by me this time around using ProWritingAid. So bear with me as I get working on that next week.  Since this is finishing up, I’m think about either a sequel to Under My Umbrella or something a little more racy, for me anyway. Always wanted to try my hand at an Adult Novella.  

Right now, I’m taking some time out for myself re-decorating my studio, knitting a sweater for next winter, quilting two pillowcases for my jumbo body pillow and giving support to my fellow writers at Voracious Readers Only. So much to do and never enough time to do everything, considering a schedule guide where I just focus on one outside  activity a day. 

In the meantime, don’t forget to look for me on Amazon, Smashword and B&N under this  name T. Otelia Scriber.

Thank you,

Otelia

Need Reviews for Your Written Works?

Every person that uses electronic marketing needs exposure for their business, their novels, their ideas. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to just place something on the Web and hope that it’s going to get discovered.  Marketing on the Web is harder than a brick and mortar business and triple harder for upcoming writers.

Yes, we can self publish our work, but we also need readers, clients that might want to purchase our work. We need EXPOSURE in order for that to happen. Why should I be bothered to read or consider your novel when I readily enjoy Christine Feehan, Sherrilyn Kenyon or Michael Peterson? Who are you?

I was contacted by and organization an I love their concept. Please note this might not be for everyone, but it works for me. Welcome to the Voracious Readers Only List!

I’m skeptical of emails from unknown addresses and 9 times out of 10, I automatically delete. Not time to read and not interested. This caught my eye and peaked my interest. In a nutshell sign up to be a Beta Reader for other authors in your genre, review them Amazon, Goodreads, Smashword, Nook and submit a completed work that you don’t mind giving free samples of.  Get your own work reviewed by others.  Not only do you get reviews of your novel, but you might also get a sale if they enjoy it enough to want to keep a copy. I have submitted two of my works so far. 

Who doesn’t enjoy getting new ebooks for FREE to read?

I’m not soliciting any affiliate program. I’m getting getting any perps for suggesting this. As one new author to many merely suggesting this might work for you. It’s worth a try.

T. Oetlia Scriber

Interview with an Editor

Attended a writer’s convention in December 2017, and had the pleasure to interview one of the Guest Speakers ~ Mr. Patrick, who was speaking about the Benefits of the Writing.

THE BENEFIT OF WRITING

It is likely that most adults do not give much thought to the writing that they do – in terms of the amount of text produced, quality of the written work, or the variety of writing tasks in which they engage.

Typically, writing in everyday life tends to be performed for either the mundane tasks of personal and household management – shopping lists, phone messages, reminder notes to the kids – or for work-related tasks, such as inter-office memos, sales reports, or personnel evaluations.

Writing using a computer or smart phone is increasingly common with the spread of technology into all aspects of modern life, although there are generational and demographic differences in the practice of using a computer for writing.

A recent study found that younger, better educated, and employed US adults spent more time writing with computers, while older, less educated, and non-working persons spent more time writing using paper. While the variety of writing tasks adults engage in might be thought of as essential to work and home life, many everyday writing tasks probably contribute little to the overall quality of individuals’ intellectual and emotional lives.

Of course, a significant number of adults engage in extensive and meaningful writing tasks. The most obvious examples are professional writers – journalists, book and short story authors, poets, and essayists, opinion columnists, college professors. The products of their work can be said to contribute to society in important ways: Inspiring and entertaining readers, reporting and analyzing significant political, cultural, and world events, critiquing government officials’ actions, educating children, youth, and adults. Of course, one need not be a professional writer to obtain benefits from writing or to share what they know and think with others.

Even some nonprofessional writers may be prolific, daily writers. Although extended letter writing is less common today, given the ease of text messaging and email for instant communication, some adults remain devoted and adept letter writers

The ubiquity of writing in everyday life raises the question of how – and how much – writing contributes to individuals’ intellectual and emotional development. Numerous studies have demonstrated the benefits of reading, but much less scholarly attention has been devoted to the personal outcomes that derive from writing.

What advantages does writing afford to individuals? How does writing contribute to the development and maintenance of one’s thinking abilities? And, how does writing contribute to emotional well being

  1. Writing Can Help You Think

Writing is necessary to help the human mind achieve its full potential. Writing, for example, allows the writer to concretize abstract ideas and to “connect the dots in their knowledge. Particular kinds of writing tasks may, indeed, be beneficial to intellectual vitality, creativity, and thinking abilities. A study found, for example, that when adults write about significant life events their memory for such events is improved.

Writing enables the external storage of information that can be represented symbolically (e.g., letters, numbers, words, formulas drawings) and which can then be analyzed, critiqued, reproduced, and transformed, among other potential actions.

  1. Writing Might be Beneficial to Cognitive Skills

Writing enables the external storage of information that can be represented symbolically (e.g., letters, numbers, words, formulas drawings) and which can then be analyzed, critiqued, reproduced, and transformed, among other potential actions. Writing might be beneficial to cognitive skills because it requires focusing of attention, planning and forethought, organization of one’s thinking, and reflective thought, among other abilities – thereby sharpening these skills through practice and reinforcement.

  1. Writing Can Help You Feel Good

James Pennebaker, a cognitive psychologist at the University of Texas-Austin has undertaken a series of investigations into the benefits of writing, including its ability to heal emotional wounds.

Short-term, focused writing can, benefit anyone who is dealing with terminal illness, victims of violent crime, or new college students struggling with the transition from high school.

Treasure Under My Umbrella

Well, the novella is finally edited, I do apologize for the delay. Unfortunately, I was pressed into sending the script out again for some revisions.


So, what do you think?

  1. What do you think Officer Mitchem’s fate should be?
  2. How will Asheré respond to Xiulan’s surprise?
  3. Will Darnell and Morgana form a working relationship?
  4. Should the driver accept Chandler’s proposition?

 

 

Which Story line is Better?

Ok, so I’m contemplating another storyline and I’m brainstorming ideas.

Weep Not 4 Me { Scenario 1}

Wanda was lost in thought alighting from the Qn 114 bus trying to think of all the chores that she needed to finish by the time her boss arrived for the conference this morning. She came upon a crowd gathered in front of an electronic store. The store window home to several TV screens all broadcasting the 7 O’clock News.

Police are looking for Mrs. Jay Tee Wheatena, a missing Afro American elderly woman possible mid-sixties, Salt n’ pepper hair worn in a French roll, black-rimmed glasses, wearing a grey/blue plaid light coat with medium grey pumps. She was last seen carrying a large brown tote bag with her companion inside ~ a Pekinese dog wearing a red sweater with a matching little red bow barrette in its hair. If you have seen this woman, please call the Missing Person’s Hotline 1800-555-6610. 

The attendant left her in the living room of her home for two minutes to get her medicines and settle her for the evening. When the attendant returned she found the front door opened and Mrs. Wheatena was gone. She called the police immediately. Mrs. Wheatena is insulin dependent and suffers from dementia she wandered from her home attendant last night after attending a benefits gala.

Wanda gave a little scream as she realized the woman was a passenger on the bus she just left. The woman smiled at her as she took a seat right across from her, talking to the pooch feeding the dog snacks. The pup was mannerable, head crocked to side listening to the lady’s voice, laying comfortably in her lap, inside the tote bag. She scrambles for her cell phone frantically dialing the number and turning around to look at the bus now six blocks away moving fast.

Weep Not 4 Me { Scenario 2}

Mrs. Jay Tee Wheatena was sorry for the trouble that she might cause Kimberly her attendant for leaving in the middle of the night, but she couldn’t stand one more day taking medications that left her disorientated and didn’t work. The pain was unbearable, her bone cancer was progressive, and she just wanted it to end. Attending the benefit gala was her last social event. At least she’d have one special night to remember before she closed her eyes.

She was a proud Afro American woman mid-sixties, Salt n’ pepper hair worn in a French roll, black-rimmed glasses, wearing a red sweater dress under a grey/blue plaid light coat with medium black pumps. She had to take Mizzy with her or she would have cried all night. Dressed in a matching color outfit like her mistress, Mizzy laid comfortably on top of her special quilt in a spacious black canvas tote bag. She was a beautiful tan and white Pekinese dog wearing a red sweater with a matching little red bow barrette holding a tuff of hair in the middle of her head. Mizzy had been her mistress’s companion for seven years, they were inseparable.

Mrs. Wheatena, took the Qn 114, bus that would take her to the beach, so she could walk watching one more sunrise paint the day with its rays of bright red, orange and yellow. Mizzy would be alright running up and down the beach until someone noticed her without an owner. Inside the tote bag was her last will and testament. She was leaving all her property and Mizzy to Kimberly who had taken excellent care of her for three years. She knew that Kimberly had two children ages ten and seven that she left every day with her cousin to come and care for her. Hopefully, this would compensate her for her dedication and sacrifice.

She breathes easier comfortable with her decision the disease robbing her of her quality of life, but it would not steal how she ended it, her only regret was leaving Mizzy behind. Well, she had sixteen more stops to the beach looking at Mizzy with love, she spoke softly to the dog and rubbed her head affectionally.