I DARE YOU

   

        

How many times in your life have you heard this taunt? My family moved about every six months when I was a child. For several years, we were transient, moving from one oil field to the next, living in very odd places. This meant I changed friends and acquaintances with every move. I was always "the new girl," until we finally settled in one town and stayed.

             

As the new girl, I had to test the waters, so to speak, waiting and wondering if someone would ask me to play. I wasn't a tomboy, really, but I would take a chance here and there to try something new in order to win friends. Often, a girl or boy would "dare" me.

             

In first grade, no one would seesaw with me, but I stayed close to the seesaws, hoping someone would ask. A boy stepped up and said, "I can walk up one end of the seesaw and all the way down the other side. Want to see?" Of course, I did. I nodded and he demonstrated the daring feat. As he neared the center, he paused, held his arms straight out, and ran down the other side as his weight lowered the seesaw. Then he dared me to try it.

             

Okay. I slowly walked up one side almost to the center, but my leather-soled white high-tops were slick, causing my feet to slide backwards. I fell forward and my mouth landed on one of the big iron bolts that held the seesaw to the iron rail. The fall split my bottom lip, and I fell off, also scraping my knees because I wore a dress. Now blood poured from my lip and my knees. A teacher came running and took me inside to call my mother. A doctor put stitches in my lip and the flesh below. I still have a scar there.

             

But I took the dare.

            

 In another town, a neighbor boy dared me to stand on the edge of the cesspool covered with a loose piece of tin. I did, holding my nose from the stench. My mother came slamming out the back door and yelled at me. She called me to the house and told me a story of a little boy falling into a cesspool and drowning. Sure, that scared me silly…but I had taken the dare.

            

 Another boy invited me to his house to play. (I most often played with boys, I guess.) In his room, he told me he had scary comic books in a box under his bed and asked if I wanted to see them. I said, no, I didn't want to read anything scary. But…he dared me. We spent the afternoon reading scary comic books.

            

 As an adult, at age forty, a friend taught me to play golf. She was a firecracker. Often, I'd want to "lay up" when I approached a water hazard, but she'd always say, "I dare you to go for it." Oh, of course, I did. Most often I failed but at least I tried.

            

 You'd think I learned my lesson over my lifetime of taking dares. But no…I still try new things, sometimes on my own, sometimes at the urging of a friend.

             

Decades ago, my best friend urged me to play hooky and drive to Dallas to see Bruce Springsteen in his "Born in the USA" world tour. I took the dare and we went…and we were the teachers!

            

 In 2004, I had to stay in a recliner much of each day because of a couple of medical problems. Bored to death, I complained I had nothing to do. My husband placed an old used laptop in my lap and said, "Well, write something."

            

 I took the dare and wrote an entire novel, and I'd never written anything in my life. Now, I have a ten novels, six novellas, several anthologies, and I'm still writing.

             

In case you think I'd try anything, don't. I do have limits. I said no when urged to try a cigarette; I said no to boys who wanted to go too far; and I said no climbing the town water tower.

            

 However, taking a chance…or a dare…on something you'd really like to do can be a good thing. Suppose you, as an author, would like to try writing, oh, a space opera romance instead of the sweet girl-next-door romances you prefer, but you don't know where to begin or if you'd be successful. Or perhaps you'd really like to enter one of the most prestigious contests around, but fear a dreadfully low critique.

            

 I believe most authors are risk-takers. Otherwise, we wouldn't send our most beloved manuscripts to strangers, hoping they'll love it. We wouldn't take the chance on a bad review by sending our published novel to the best reviewer we know.

                   

Maybe all authors should write something very different once in a while.

                   

Maybe readers should read something very different once in a while.

                    

Go ahead. Try something different. I dare you.

Celia Yeary

 Note: My newest release is TEXAS DREAMER, my 4th "Texas book," another Western Romance novel. See top of blog, right corner. Available at Amazon, Barnes and Nobel, Sony, and iTunes store. Thank you. 

WHERE HAVE ALL THE HEROES GONE?

Let's face it, heroes these days have a difficult time staying on their pedestals.

Some heroes seem destined to become one, but we, the public, are often to blame for awarding the title to the wrong people or those who don't really qualify.

A hero is an everyday person who can change the world for the better. It could be simple act such as helping one person out or by helping millions.

There are big heroes known for a particular event, and there are small everyday types of heroes.

However, I think we overuse the term so that the word truly has little meaning.

What makes a hero?
Nelson Mandela is a true hero in every sense of the word.

But suppose I say my mother was a hero because she dutifully followed my daddy all over West and North Texas while he followed the work in the oil fields? She kept us fed, clothed, and happy. She went without a home of her own so we'd all be together.
Even though I loved and appreciated my mother, truthfully she does not come close to being a hero in the same category as Nelson Mandela. In fact, few people are.
But to me? She was a heroine, and my daddy was a hero.

Men, women, and even children are recognized all over our country

on a daily basis as being a "hero."

~*~A sick child with a positive attitude.

~*~A man who catches a baby falling from a third story window.

~*~All the firefighters who battle the mountain forest fires.

~*~The SWAT team who rescued hostages.

~*~A little girl who saves a kitten from a drain pipe.

History has given us time to ferret out true heroes of battles, wars, and liberations. Some have been proven to have clay feet after all.

Perhaps labeling a person a Hero lays a burden on his/her shoulders. How can a person live up to being a hero on a daily basis?

In romance novels, the hero is the important character. The heroine has a great role, too, but it's the male hero on which we focus.

Lucky for us, we have a definite list of What Makes a Western Hero.

Courteous, respectful attitude toward women
A loner. No close friends, no personal conversations

Rugged face; seldom smiles
Excellent shot

Brave

One companion, usually his horse

Hates rude people and will put them in their place
Great fighter - uses fists
Brave

Accepts all races

Traits of a typical Hemingway Hero are:

A love of good times, stimulating surroundings, and strict moral rules, including honesty.
The Hemingway Hero always exhibits some form of a physical wound that serves as his tragic flaw and the weakness of his character.

I'm particularly searching for a true modern hero. We expect our politicians, leaders of any kind, military personnel, and some dissenters to be hero material. Goodness knows, we can't expect that across the board.

Where have all the good ones gone?

Maybe I should lower my expectations of a true hero.

In fact, the heroes I create most often are flawed. I've even written one who abused the woman a little, but I redeemed him, and made him ashamed of what he did. Not one reader ever mentioned that perhaps he was not a good hero.

I think we all know heroes are made, not born, and it's not an easy task to expect one to be 100% true to the calling of a hero.

The Road to Publication-Part I

Becoming a Published Author

Recently, I was involved in an on-line discussion titled "What Do You Want From a Publisher?" There were many visitors who had definite opinions, both positive and negative. Without a doubt, the relationship an author has with a publisher is as important as writing the book itself.

When I first began to search for a publisher in 2005, the only names I knew were Avon, Berkley, Dorchester, Kensington, and Harlequin--all New York Publishers. By that time I had five completed manuscripts in my computer files, although my knowledge of acceptable writing was sorely lacking. After spending a good deal of money printing and mailing three chapters and a synopsis for the one I chose as a trial, I realized the project might not work for me.

The rejection letters piled up. Every one of them was a form letter. And I might go broke.

About that time, I joined Romance Writers of America in order to appear more professional, and also to receive their magazine.

The articles opened my eyes to facts I never knew: (1) most manuscripts were never read--only the first page before it was placed in the discard pile, (2) for every manuscript I submitted, that one was in competition with maybe ten thousand others, and (3), while a publisher opened submissions to new and unagented writers, the fact was that to land a contract as such an author was rare, indeed.

I abandoned the plan, and decided perhaps becoming a published romance author was not for me.

However, those RWA magazines opened another door. I learned that some contests were offered to unpublished authors, and most importantly, I could submit online. In addition, I would receive three critiques for each manuscript.

But the most important fact I discovered was some publishers were called "small electronic presses," and the contests were open to anyone who paid the fee. I invested a certain amount of money and began entering selected contests.

The contests opened the door. One of my contemporary romances, "The Stars at Night," won third place in one of the contests, and my name was published in an issue of Romance Writers of America.

Two good things came out of the contests:

(1) I made spread sheets of the positive and negative comments taken from the judges' sheets, thereby discovering my strengths and weaknesses as a writer. At last, my scientific background paid off. I used the negative comments--which were consistently the same--and began a steep learning curve.

2) I discovered numerous electronic publishers and a whole new world of opportunity.

Next Step: to land a contract with an electronic press.

Coming Friday--stayed tuned.

Becoming a Published Author
Part II: If It Doesn't Fit, Don't Submit  

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
My Website
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How Physics Helped Me Become an Author



MY FIRST NOVEL

Remember all those math courses you were required to take for your high school diploma and/or your university degrees? How many times did you wonder, "What good is all this math? I'm not planning on becoming a mathematician, and besides...I have a calculator." The same was true with Physics. All right, I admit the science of physics might possibly help you as a human being with some Law of Physics that might pop up in your everyday life.

Physics, though, almost did me in. I was an Education major, with biology/science as a teaching field. I took all the biology courses I could, knowing that Physics was also on my Required Courses List for my degree. I could not graduate without it.

A PHYSICS PROFESSOR BUT NOT MINE

The first day of class for this horrendous subject rolled around all too soon. I entered the elevated lecture hall that held three hundred students. I spotted an empty seat five rows up. Excusing myself halfway down the row, I sat down, flipped the desktop over my lap, and placed my books and notebook there.

The year: 1968--I was 28 years old with preschoolers at home. And way out of my element.

Enter the professor, who looked to be about thirty years old and resembled a young Steve McQueen. Not very tall, blonde, cute, fit. He announced his name and said:

"I intend to be an astronaut one day, but in the meantime, I will teach you everything you need to know about physics. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I will give my first lecture, complete with drawings on the chalkboard. Listen carefully--if you do not understand this elementary problem when I finish, pick up your books, walk out, and proceed to the registrar's office and drop this course. You cannot pass if you do not understand what I do today."

A VECTOR FIELD

So, he proceeded filling up the chalkboard with a lesson on Vectors. Remember Vectors? When he finished, several students began to pack up and walk out. I sat there perspiring, with my heart beating too hard, and very close to crying. I HAD to have this course to graduate.

He might as well have titled his lecture "MAN FROM MARS SPEAKS GOBBLEDY-GOOK TO EXPLAIN VECTORS."

Next to me, the blond young woman--probably twenty years old--actually did begin to weep. I said, "I guess you didn't understand the lecture."

"No," she said, wiping her eyes, "and I must have this course to graduate."

"Me, too," I confessed.

"Well, are you going to drop?"

Taking a deep breath, I said, "No. I'll try as hard as I can to pass. I don't even know enough math for this. But I can learn and work hard, and so, I'll give it a go."

"Will you help me? Be my lab partner?" she asked.

I suggested she might get some young engineering student as a partner--not someone like me who knows zip about this. But she wanted someone to feel secure, she said, so we sealed the deal.

To make a long story short, in the labs I developed a way to work backwards with the apparatuses we were manipulating. Don't ask me how I did it...but since I knew the problem and the desired outcome, instead of going from the beginning, I set up the outcome, then worked backwards. Another student--who was taking the course a second time--gave me some advice. He said, the lab professor is quite old, and tired, so when you write up your lab report, write as many pages as you can and include numerous drawings. He goes by volume, not so much content. Well, you should have seen my lab reports. I--and my little friend--made A's in lab. The lecture exams were another problem, but I did know enough to get by. With the lab grade averaged with my lecture grades, I came out with a C the first semester. I cried--well, I'd only made A's in my courses, and I never expected a C in anything. But realizing I was lucky, I worked harder the second semester and made a B. I thanked God for those grades.

Perhaps you get the point of my ramblings today. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I could write a story and get it published as a novel. Actually, the thought never occurred to me. However, after a few incidents in my life, I found myself writing and working hard to polish a manuscript enough to submit to an editor.

There were those unfortunate tries at submitting, but even though New York kept rejecting me and suggesting I get an agent, I continued on my set course of publication. By then I discovered electronic books and found an entire new world and way of accomplishing my goal.

I still thank The Wild Rose Press for my first published novels. They opened the door and believe me, I rushed in. Today, I marvel at the number of works published with Celia Yeary-Author on them. It's still a thrill, just as it was when I received my degree from Texas Tech University, claiming I had successfully completed ALL required courses.

Anything I can do, you can, too--that is, if the desire is there, in your heart and your mind.

What was your inspiration for forging ahead against all odds?

My Publishers:
The Wild Rose Press
Wings ePress
Whimsical Publications
Victory Tales Press (Western Trail Blazer)
Desert Breeze Publishing
Whiskey Creek Press
Willow Moon Publishing

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
 My Website
My Blog
Sweethearts of the West-Blog
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IN DEFENSE OF THE ROMANCE NOVEL

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!
On a recent trip to the library, an acquaintance walked up to me and said, “I heard you write romance novels. Do you really read that stuff?”


Mmm, I mused, how often have I heard that question?

Taking my usual bold stance—on quivering legs—I replied, “Sure, I do. Why not?”

I’ve learned one important thing in my mature years. If I don’t particularly like the question, I’ll ask one of my own. It’ll throw the person off track every time. Well, usually.

“Why not?” my casual friend asked. “Well, for one thing,” she stammered, “they’re…trite, with the same plot in every single book. A learned person wouldn’t waste time on them.”

Of course, by the time I arrived home, my busy brain had made a list of “why I read that stuff, and particularly why I write it.”

Answer Number One: Defending romance novels falls in the same category as defending myself. If I probe for a real answer, the person might say, “A reader of romance usually doesn’t have a life of her own, or a poor love life at best, or she reads to live vicariously through a character.” My reply might be, “Statistics show that 75 million people read at least one romance novel last year. So, you’re saying you know how all these readers feel?”

Answer Number Two: Some romance novels are better than others. True, the first romance novels were written differently from those today, but one might say that about all fiction in general. Advice to my friend-of-the-moment: “Try a romance novel. Begin with a few of the tried and true authors: LaVyrle Spencer (my all-time favorite), Susan Wiggs, Penelope Williamson, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Judith McNaught, Kathleen Eagle, and Karen Robards. Neither you nor anyone else needs to waste time on any bad book. That applies to romance novels, as well.”

Answer Number Three: Perhaps readers and writers of romance are actually readers….period. To my detractor, I might reply: “Oh, by the way, if you’re looking for a good book, you might want to try Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Societies; The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society; Plainsong; or The Dust Bowl Years. I highly recommend them.” Would that be tacky of me?

Answer Number Four: A simple statement. Reading and writing romance novels are my inalienable rights under the constitution. After all, this is a free country.

Answer Number Five: I’m easily entertained. When I choose a movie, I do not need to select one that has garnered critically acclaimed praise over the entire globe. The same is true with my reading material.

Answer Number Six: In response to the statement “Romance novels are just fairy tales, stories that never happen in real life.” Maybe, maybe not, but I might reply, “Sometimes, I just like to escape reality.”

I’m not the first writer to pen an article titled “In Defense of the Romance Novel.” I Googled the title and found quite a few. By the time I finished reading several, I realized the question, “You don’t read that stuff, do you?” has been asked many times.

Celia Yeary-Proud to be a Romance Author

JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU'RE SAFE

My writing career, if I may call it that, began in 2004 on an impulse brought about by severe boredom. Soon, I had a novel-length story written. Smugly, I said, “It’s a wrap!” Well, no, it wasn’t at all. I knew nothing about the intricacies of writing fiction. The knowledge I had would fit into a thimble, and even that, I based it on my experience with writing scientific research papers.

The first big shock was something called Point of View. Since I’d only been a reader of fiction, rather than a writer, POV puzzled me. I talked with two would-be-authors and asked about this term. Each of them explained…and explained…and showed…and finally told me one day it would just click, like a light bulb turned on. Actually, this happened, but alas, I dealt with only two POVs—the hero’s and the heroine’s in third person.

Since I’ve always been a self-learner, I began to rely on "How to Write Fiction" books for enlightenment. One neat little book was totally devoted to “mastering point of view.” Just what I needed. Do you know how many Points of View exist? At least six: Unlimited POV, First-Person POV, Inner Limited POV, Second-person POV, Outer Limited POV, and Combo POV. Then the writer may combine any of the six with “Multiple POVs and Challenging Perspectives.”

How did I deal with this conundrum? I pretended only two categories existed. Since I wrote romance, I felt fairly confident. So far, not one editor has asked me why I mixed Inner Limited POV with Unlimited POV.

My second learning experience was Passive Writing. Although I didn’t know the term, I did learn that all of us had probably studied it in high school, and knew it as Voice--with action verbs or without. Well, I took care of that right away by going to the Spell Check Options in Word, opening Check Grammar, and making certain every little box contained a little blue check, especially the one titled “Passive Writing.” From my first editor, I discovered the Find button, typed in the insignificant word “was,” indicating a passive sentence. In my first editing experience with this real editor, she located 972 times I’d used “was.” That’s a close approximation. Why did the publisher ever take such a messy manuscript?

The third, and last, learning episode for now is Formatting. A new phenomenon is sweeping through the e-presses community. Earlier, the guidelines stated only a few requirements: a particular font, double-spaced, one-inch margins, and page numbers. Now that I’m working with several publishers, I’m wondering why e-presses don’t standardize their formatting requirements? Each one has a long, detailed list of tasks the author must accomplish. (I do appreciate the publisher stating “do the best you can—we don’t expect you to be an electronic genius.) I admit I spent two entire days trying to change my “curly quotes” to “straight quotes.” When I learned how, I shoved my desk chair back, stood, punched my fists into the air, and yelled, “Yeeesss!” My husband came running to make certain I had not lost my mind. No, I had not lost anything. I’d found a valuable tool.
Celia
TEXAS PROMISE: The Cameron Sisters-Book I
*Love Romances Café-Best Historical Romance 2010-Honorable Mention
*The Romance Studio-Five Hearts
*Love Western Romance-Four Spurs
*Sherry Gloag, Reader-Five Hearts
*Steph Burkhart, Reviewer-Five Hearts


Celia

HOW MUCH DO WE REALLY NEED TO KNOW?

I, for one, am happy to learn not everyone in the world needs to know Calculus. A professor of mathematics claims that the common man on the street—or woman in the boardroom—has no need for calculus or any higher mathematics beyond algebra (which I claim we don’t particularly need, either) to live a good life.

So, why do some mathematicians and educators attempt to embarrass the general public concerning their lack of knowledge about how to “calculate” certain bits of useless numerical facts?

 To sell something—that’s why. After the Sputnik scare of the fifties, the pundits bemoaned the fact that we were “a nation at risk,” setting up a scenario in which publishers of mathematical educational materials flooded the market. Every college and every public school bought the programs and set to work turning our students into mathematicians. The idea hasn’t worked yet.

Oh, probably some of us believe an elite mathematician performs daily chores and routine tasks on a much higher plane than the rest of us, but really…can a calculus expert read the newspaper any better than I?

A wise teacher friend once told me that a student only needed to learn two things to be successful: how to read and how to write. If one can perform those two tasks proficiently, then he can learn anything he wants. He can live a successful, satisfying life learning and doing what works for him.

I will admit a person should know basic math. Balancing a checkbook, living within a budget, and calculating a percentage are necessary for most of us. After all, we don’t want to go into debt, or pay late fees, or file bankruptcy because we could not do simple math.

 Now I’ll tell you a story. I did not receive an academic high school education. I took “Distributive Education” courses, thereby skipping not only biology, but math any higher than elementary algebra, trigonometry, and chemistry. But because of the Sputnik scare in the fifties, the government offered a National Science Foundation student loan to train teachers in order to outrace the Russians getting to the moon! So, I entered college at age 27 and signed up for....guess what? A NSF loan to major in education and science. I aced every course during my first two years, and earned only one C during the second half of my BS degree. The C was in Bacteriology—more difficult than Physics. Yes, I made B’s in physics by using a trig book to work my physics problems. Sure, I would have loved to know trigonometry, but I didn’t. But…I knew where to find answers.

What does this mean for all of us? How does it affect me?

Now I write romance novels and women’s fiction. You know what a learning curve I had there. Many of us probably entered the writing world in a similar manner: deficient in knowledge about publishers, editors, POV, Active vs. Passive writing, and myriad other necessary elements of style.

So, how are we doing? Can we solve our own problems? If we don’t know how to do some particular thing, do we set out to learn how? Do new electronic gadgets thrill us? Or do they set our teeth on edge because we’ll need to learn one more new thing?

Can you read? Can you write? You bet you can, opening many doors of opportunity.

Will our young people learn to read AND write? Sometimes I worry that the texting business will ruin them. But I still have faith that the majority of them will find a way to do and learn what they need to know to live a happy successful life and be a productive citizen.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com/ 
http://www.celiayeary.com/

New Releases
Texas Promise-eBook-Desert Breeze Publishing
Making the Turn-print & eBook-Wings ePress

Note to Myself, via My Horoscope

“You might be experiencing the sensation of wandering around in a daze, with your feet planted on solid ground, but your head in the clouds.”

So, that’s my problem!

I’ve been in a daze for weeks, now, or so I’ve thought. But what does “daze” mean?

Daze: to become weary, lazy, tired; to stupefy, stun, or bewilder.

Not exactly complimentary, but truthfully, much of this describes how I feel and how I’ve been acting. For the life of me, I cannot figure out my problem. Maybe I have a physical condition of some sort, but no…I don’t think so. I have no pain, I sleep very well, I certainly haven’t lost weight, because I have not experienced a sudden loss of appetite.

The feeling must be connected to something, though, and until I figure out why I’m out of sorts, i.e., in a daze, who knows how long it might continue? If it does continue, I’ll never finish any of the three WIPs that are staring me in the face; I’ll not get through two months of promotion before I leave town for two weeks; and I’ll never write all those blogs that are on my calendar.

In the midst of whining in this blog, I stopped to make a dozen banana nut muffins and ten sausage biscuits for the freezer for my husband’s breakfasts. During that time, the house was quiet, the only sound being the sizzling of sausage patties in a cast-iron skillet, the breaking of one egg into a bowl, the clink and clank of a spoon against an aluminum mixing bowl, and the ‘shhhhh’ of vegetable spray into muffin cups.

These comforting sounds allowed my mind to wander wherever it wanted, and I think I’ve discovered something.

At first, I thought I needed something new, but that’s not exactly it. Here it is: I’m suffering from The Empty Nest Syndrome.

Since late spring, I have worked very hard to find homes for my manuscripts. The effort paid off, because every one of them—except one yet to be determined—now is under contract or already released.

I’m lonely. That’s my problem. All my babies are gone, and while I reared them to maturity so they could live independently from me, I miss them.

So, I need to get busy and finish one of my WIPs or begin a new story. Then I can have that feeling of anticipation of finding a good home for it.

Excuse me, please. I have work to do.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas

http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com/

http://www.celiayeary.com/

New Releases

Texas Promise-eBook-Desert Breeze Publishing

Making the Turn-print & eBook-Wings ePress

 

HOW MUCH DESCRIPTION IS TOO MUCH?

Remember I am no expert. My knowledge on any writing topic comes from a few years of self-study, and lest you think I know a great deal, let me set you straight. I am no…Sorry, I’ve already said that.

Why am I writing about this boring topic? Lately, more lavish description than is needed or wanted seems to be creeping in some fiction. While our writing instructors tell us “less is more,” and encourage us to omit descriptive phrases, we still feel compelled to endlessly describe.

“Her lovely eyes resembled pieces of emerald, shadowed by long, lush lashes, set in an alabaster face worthy of the most beautiful of angels.” (I made that up.) First of all, this passage must be from the Hero’s POV. How many men do you know, or have ever existed had thoughts like this? “Her eyes sure were pretty, sort of green.” A cowboy might think; or a modern man might say this: “Her eyes were so pretty, I wish I had the words to describe them.”

AVOID detailed descriptions of characters. Elmore Leonard in his Ten Rules of Writing, says, In Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” what do the “American and the girl with him” look like? “She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.” That’s the only reference to a physical description in the story, yet we see the couple and know them by the tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight.

However, I need either some description of the characters in some manner, or none at all. Why? Because I visualize the characters, and unless I have a clue early on I’ll paint a picture of them myself. If an author waits until about the fourth or fifth chapter to finally let me know the girl is petite, buxom, with coal-black hair hanging almost to her waist, I might have her pictured her as tall, lithe, and blond. By that time I have so much invested in my version, the author’s description makes me irritable.

AVOID great detailed descriptions of places and things. We don’t need to impress our readers with the beauty of our story setting. If we go on and on about it, heaping up adjectives and adverbs along the way, we run the risk of losing our readers because they have become weary and slam the book shut.

Again, as a reader myself, I do need to know in some creative way the surroundings or setting of the novel.

Now that I’ve offered this advice, I’m still in the process of “how much description is too much.” Or maybe I should be learning how to include my descriptions without listing everything in one paragraph.

I do love to write. Here’s an descriptive excerpt from a WIP. Someday I hope to finish it. ~~From A Life Worth Living~~

***

“Mama, do we get cake? It’s daytime.”

Teresa said to her daughter, “Yes, I know, sweetie, but sometimes we get cake in the daytime when we have company.”

“Oh.”

Teresa said, “Let’s say grace. Shall we?” She looked at Guy for his approval.

Guy nodded, not knowing what was proper or what was not. It had been a long time since he or anyone else he knew said grace over a piece of cake, let alone one hard biscuit filled with weevils, or one glop of tasteless corn mush for breakfast, eaten standing up, ready to run at a moment’s notice if shells began to explode around them.

“Mr. Reynolds? Would you say grace?”

Guy remained frozen, as terrified as he had been at times when he ran for his life, his rifle cocked and ready, through bombings and gunfire and thick, black, greasy smoke. He sat there, his heart pounding, his head bursting with the sound of weapons and explosions, visibly shaking and looking at the cake, seeing instead, blood, and men’s intestines spilling out, and hearing unearthly groans and screams.

Hell couldn’t be much worse, he thought. But he looked up and sought her beautiful blue eyes, the color of the sky in Brussels when the smoke cleared and the sun shone on the destruction of war that men inflicted on each other. God help him, he thought he would cry. No, he thought, with steely determination, I’ll not let her see my weakness and pain.

“Yes, ma’am. Let’s bow our heads.”

***

Celia Yeary

Romance…and a little bit o' Texas

http://www.celiayeary.com/

TEXAS BLUE-eBook and Print

SHOWDOWN IN SOUTHFORK—eBook

ALL MY HOPES AND DREAMS-eBook and Print

http://www.thewildrosepress.com/