Many years ago, I heard a poem. I didn’t know who it was by, I couldn’t remember the words.

I just loved it when I heard it and I couldn’t forget it.

I occasionally looked for it.

And then, doing some scouting for cemetaries to visit, I ran across Wapley, Gloucestershire.

Imagine my surprise when I saw this:

It is almost the full wording of the poem I heard, on a gravestone at the churchyard there.

The words are by Mary Elizabeth Frye.

This is the full version:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

I think you’ll agree, it’s beautiful and incredibly moving.

And Rachel, if you happen to read this — I thought of you when I posted the poem.
I’m sure your Granddad would tell you exactly what this poem does.
It reminds us that no matter who we lose, as long as we are alive and keep them in our heart, they are with us, in every little thing we do, see, feel, experience.

Tags: Mary Elizabeth Frye, Poem

I’ve caved in.
I joined Facebook.

Although I don’t do "Social Networking Sites", I still caved.
I don’t even know why.
I don’t like putting much (personal) info on the net, it’s something that makes me nervous. ID Theft from sites like these are rife and I’ve been burned once already.
However, I’m told that Agents, Publishers and other creatures look for such things, and you’re deemed weird if you don’t "Publicise" yourself there.
Of course, it’s hearsay. They may not care at all.
Still, do I want to take the chance?
I’ll keep it low key though, because it’s not just your friends who look stuff like that up. Prospective employers will browse your facebook page too.
Although what good it does them if you only let friends see it… I wouldn’t add them. I only add people I actually know.

I draw the line at MySpace though.
Not going to happen.
Read my lips: Never.Going.To.Happen. Ever. Ever ever.

At least Facebook has a little class. MySpace… no thank you. I’m not 14 years old, I don’t like Glittergraphics and I really don’t give a damn if Britney went shopping.

Tags: Facebook, Publicity, Social Networks

I was chatting with a friend about descriptions, and something she said stuck with me.

"Work around it."

I thought that was pretty good advice.
She’s right, of course.
I use clichés far too much. It’s an easy mistake to make, and one that can be just as easily fixed — if you notice you used a cliché. Most of the time I don’t.
However, often I just get stuck at how to put the words so they’ll lead to something natural sounding, without boring the reader.
Something to lead the readers imagination, rather than stifle it.
Try giving your characters an edge by the way you describe them. Give them something memorable.
Easier said than done.

I took a sentence from my current WIP, which attempts to convey the sound of the hero’s voice to the reader.

His low voice sent shivers down her spine.

Not too bad, but nothing outstanding. Nothing that makes the reader remember it. And I end it with a cliché, of all things.
I stared at this sentence for hours.
How to make it better, how to get rid of the cliché?
How to turn it into something that gives the reader an idea why my heroine is so affected by his voice? Her first impression of him is shaped by the sound of his voice. She hasn’t seen him yet, so it needs to be powerful. The sentence above doesn’t cut it. At all.

This is the sentence after I thought to give it a bit of pop.

The man’s low voice had a cadence all of its own. He didn’t need to speak loudly, or yell. The resonance of his voice commanded attention, even though he spoke quietly. The sound of it promised dark things, whispered of tangled sheets and decadent pleasure.
A shiver made the hair on Felicia’s arms rise with expectation.

Although he still has a low voice, now we have a bit of an inkling that the guy has an unusual voice. A sexy voice. One that makes the heroine sit up and take note. And squirm.

Try it for yourself some time. Take an ordinary short, boring sentence, and add some snap, crackle and uh… fizz.
Work around it, basically.

Tags: Cliche, Descriptions, working around it

Here is the link, for those who have not registered yet:

MUSE ONLINE CONFERENCE 2009
Last Registration Day: 01 August 2009

I would suggest to register before then. The conference is FREE and there is a ton going on.

Check it out here: 2009 Workshops
 

Tags: Agents, Conference, Editors, Pitching, Workshops

Wordles are… images made with words.
A.K.A. A great way to procrastinate.

So I made one. Or two. Or uh… yeah. Never mind.

Click to see the big version

Tags: Procrastination, Wordle

It’s clearly summer.

It’s hot, humid and uncomfortable.

Naturally, we open the windows.

And moths come to live with us.

So… walking into the bedroom, Paul turned on the lights.
Big moth goes straight for the light, banging it’s head against this artificial sun.
He feels sorry for it, so he turns off the light.

Silence.

*Thud*

He turns the light on, wondering what the noise was. The moth had dropped to the bed.

Alas, that bright sunny thing was on again, so it raised itself from the bed and went back to banging it’s head against the lightbulb.
Paul turns the light off.

Silence.

*Thud*

We’re both grinning at this point. Turned the light on and tried to grab the moth. Paul gets it, and puts it out of the window.
What does the moth do?
Flies straight back in, through the other window.
*whack-whack-whack-whack*

Lights off.

*Thud*

It’s like every time we turn the light off, the moth loses the will to live. (Or has such an immense headache, it can’t fly anymore.)

We’ve left the lights off for now, feeling sorry for it lol.
We’ll evict it later.

Tags: Moths, Summer, Wildlife