What Happens Next? You Decide! Chapter 3

The next segment of “What Happens Next? You Decide!” was penned by none other than writer and blogger John Sankovich. Be sure to check out his own Choose Your Own Adventure  series on his blog at: http://johnsankovich.blogspot.com/ and help Kyle decide what to do next. Hmmm, avoid zombies, or have a slay-fest? Better go find my machete before I vote!

The car rolled to a stop and through the darkness I could see . . .

A hole in the ground. A large mound of dirt sat to one side with a shovel laying across the top.

I looked to Brandon and that same cocky grin that he always used when he knew something was up stood out on his face.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Nothing. Now get out.” He said, keeping the same smile on his lips.

I hated those lips, I hated him for being so arrogant and how I wanted to smash them with my fist.

I crawled out of the truck. The cold air hit my nose bringing tears to my eyes. I didn’t close the door, but he slammed his.

Walking around the front of the truck I noticed the hole wasn’t empty. Inside sat Jack. His eyes gleamed up at me. A grin cracked the caked on dirt on his face. “Hiya there. Ready to party?”

I looked to Brandon, back to Jack and finally eyed the shovel. Things were going to get dirty soon one way or the other…

Okay, folks. What Happens Next? You Decide! Write to me and get your segment posted with a link back to your website and/or blog! Happy writing all!

First Full Friday

Hi all! Just wanted to share the exciting news. I received a full request from a literary agency today and can barely contain my super-duper, teen-girl scream. Woo-hoo!!! Yeah, doesn’t quite cut it, does it? Let’s try it in all caps AND bold: WOO-HOO!!!!!!!!!! (Extra exclamation points helps.)

As a result, I will be off-line for the next several days as I review my manuscript and make sure it’s as polished as it can be before I send it off. After that, I will celebrate with a glass of wine and maybe treat myself to a Kindle (or an iPad, not sure!!).

I promise: I’ll be back. (Insert Arnold Schwarzenegger accent here.)

In the meantime, think of ideas for “What Happens Next? You Decide!” and you’ll be featured as a guest blogger with a link back to your site! Happy writing all!

What Happens Next? You Decide! “Chapter 2″

The following excerpt progresses from the opening section and is crafted by none other than Cynthia Occelli, author of the blog: Life, It Isn’t for the Faint of Heart http://cynthiaoccelli.blogspot.com/ . Cynthia spends her time writing, blogging, and sharing her wisdom about life. And she offers a mad-compelling segment:

I’d never been hit before…

In that instant, I became two people. One was a child deeply wounded by the assault and terrified of what might come next; the other was a young woman filled with searing rage. I sat stunned for several minutes as my two counterparts wrestled for dominance. Two teardrop sized drips of blood fell from my nose.

“Not so cocky now are you T? You need to learn when to stop being such a bitch.”

You are going jail, my brother is going to destroy you, too and wait until I tell the school, I thought to myself.

The pavement became progressively rougher finally turning to hard dirt, this wasn’t the way to Jack’s house. Feeling as though all the blood had drained from my veins, I turned to Brandon. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted that way. I’m sorry.”

Brandon smiled. “You’re scared now aren’t you? Look at you sitting there all huddled up.”

The car rolled to a stop and through the darkness I could see . . .

Kudos and much thanks, Cynthia! Okay, folks. What Happens Next?

(I’m open to suggestions and excerpts!)

Fake It ‘Til Ya Make It

Okay, so we’ve all been in uncomfortable spots, right? Those moments where we wish we could just duck out unnoticed or fade into the background, invisible. Unfortunately, it in those exact times that escape is not an option. Our cheeks flush, our hearts quicken, our voice pinches up an octave or three.

If you think about it, fitting these very situations into a plot thread can do a lot toward building empathy for your characters while also giving a reader some comic relief between bouts of tension-filled action. Those “fake it ‘til ya make it” stories highlight the idea that awkward circumstances can happen to anybody—even the main character. It makes their flaws acceptable. We end up caring more for him or her and therefore become more invested the story.

This particular idea came to me when Pastor shared a rather comical vignette…

The set up: Pastor was asked to officiate the funeral of a long-time church member and friend. The man’s family—traditionally Catholic—requested Pastor give his talk in the Catholic church. Pastor comes from a non-Catholic background, but accepted the request, honored to be chosen for such a solemn occasion.

The pitch: Pastor, Priest, and Brother of the deceased walk into a bar…no, no, just kidding! They went to a café. Anyway, they planned the funeral itinerary and by the end of the discussion, Priest asked Pastor if he’d sprinkle the coffin with Holy Water. Pastor was open about his lack of knowledge regarding the rituals often seen in Catholic ceremonies, and said: “I’m honored, however, everyone there who’s Catholic would know I have no idea what I’m doing and everyone there from Home Church would wonder what the heck I was doing!”

The Punchline: On the day of the funeral, Priest sprinkled the Holy Water on the coffin and Pastor gave his speech. When the pallbearers took their places to carry the coffin, Priest handed Pastor a golden staff containing Holy Water. Pastor grinned, quite unsure of himself and what he was supposed to do. But he was holding the staff! With a smile, Pastor waved the staff, sprinkling the coffin, and said, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.” In response, the congregation crossed themselves.

It worked! Pastor smiled with relief and rejoiced pulling off something he had no idea he could do, regardless of its simplicity.

There you have it folks. Fake it ‘til ya make it.

Now, try this with any other situation and any other character. I bet you’ll see the angst and anxiety can be teased out while the humorous and awkward can be developed. At the end, look over your work. Do you feel more attached to your character? Did you blush for them? Did you sheepishly grin at their antics? If so, you’ve struck gold. Write on, my friends. Write on.

What Happens Next? You Decide!

Hi gang. Inspiration struck and I’d like to share my idea. You remember those books where you had an option to choose what happens next? The fate of the characters were in your hands. Well, I was hoping to construct a similar game, but on the net, in a more open-ended, “real time” way.

Below you will find an opening vignette of a story. Where it goes depends on you. The greater the number of readers–and responders–the more options for plot twists.

So, let’s see what happens next, shall we? Leave a comment about your idea. I will pick the most compelling one and write it up, posting it at a later date.  (Of course, this has more chance of success if y’all share with your friends, etc.)

CHAPTER 1: I THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE FUN

Red taillights blinked, signaling the driver ahead had engaged the brakes.

“Slow down, Brandon. You’re too close.” I slapped the dashboard with both palms, gritting my teeth against the fear of a potential impact.

“Relax Tamara. I know how to drive.” Brandon glanced at me through his long bangs. A confident grin crinkled his mouth and eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”

I rolled my eyes and focused on the car in front. We’d gotten even closer. So close, in fact, I could see the hair color of the kids in the backseat, illuminated by the truck’s headlights. Two blondes and one brunette.

The other driver tapped the brake again, swerving the car first left, then right. It earned a chuckle from Brandon.

“What an idiot,” I muttered, regretting my acceptance of Brandon’s invitation. Sure, hang out with the gang, have some fun. It’s all good. No worries. Yeah. If we got there alive.

“Come on, lighten up, T.” Brandon tapped my thigh with his hand before letting it rest against my bare skin. Stupid cheerleading uniform. I should have changed into my jeans.

I shifted position so my knees rested against the door. Brandon didn’t relinquish his grip.

“What, you don’t like me touching you? Typical. Tease, then act all shy.” He frowned and rolled down his window to toss out his cigarette butt. Damp, late autumn air whipped around the cab, bringing an instant chill to my skin.

I shivered. “Can you roll up the window please?”

He snorted. “Complain, complain. You’re no fun at all.” The sharp jab of his finger on my shoulder hurt. “Your attitude better improve when we get to Jack’s house. Got it?”

“Take me home. Now.”

A scratchy laugh echoed over the wind. “T, we’re miles from your place and almost at Jack’s. I’m not turning around now.”

“I don’t want to go to Jack’s.”

The back of his hand collided with my jaw. “Shut up.”

Shock numbed my brain and triggered my heart to increase its tempo. My breath came out in spurts as I tried to quell the tears stinging my eyes.

I’d never been hit before.

**What Happens Next?

Writers on Ice

In a lot of ways, refining a manuscript is like carving an ice sculpture. You start off with broad strokes and cuts to create a general outline. Then, as the structure within reveals itself, you need to make finer chips and cuts. The last step involves careful and delicate movements to shave off the remaining millimeters of unneeded ice. It takes time, but it leads to a polished, shiny, spectacular piece of art.

Developing the skills required to create a sculpture takes time. It takes another skill set entirely to make it a masterpiece. The same goes for writing. This lesson I learned quite recently. Today actually.

Let me share. My most recent manuscript is “close” to being “ready.” I’ve checked and rechecked the prose, spelling, flow of sentences, and overall plot, looking one more time for mistakes, holes, and wonky grammar. I’ve considered every comment my beta readers have made. I’ve tweaked my query letter again. I’ve ensured my synopsis is both concise and streamlined.

So, on the eve of wooing agents, I pause. What’s holding me back? Something’s off. But I’m not sure what. I’ve done all I can, right? All the i’s are dotted and all the t’s are crossed (forgive the cliché, but it fits!). So, what is it? Why can’t I see it?

Guess what? Seeing the “obvious” isn’t so easy. Time and time again, I’ve learned the simplest things can often be the hardest. You see, just as finishing off an ice sculpture requires an eye for subtlety, so too, does completing a manuscript.

It means I need to tighten my writing more. I need to eliminate redundancy. I need to bring the reader closer to my characters.

So, what’s my plan to carry this off? I’m gonna listen to the invaluable advice that was just given to me by an experienced, skilled, and wiser writer than I. (She knows who she is! * wink *.) And by doing so, I’m gonna take my writing to the next level.

Bottom line: I’m ready to develop a more discerning eye. I’m ready to see the gleaming sculpture my manuscript can be. Watch out subtlety, here I come.

Washboard Wednesday

Okay, right now I’m in the middle of my umpteenth revision of (please imagine dramatic music and an echoing baritone voice): The Dreaded Query Letter. (Now imagine Homer Simpson screaming.

So, what is it that makes the process so daunting? I could probably give a hundred reasons, most of which are tightly bound to my emotional state, so I’ll refrain. Suffice it to say that it is something I struggle with. And I know I’m not alone.

I totally admire someone who can distill their 70,000 to 100,000 word manuscript to 250-400 words. Especially if they can capture the main character, the plot, the stakes for the MC, and the consequences of their actions while maintaining flow and coherence. It’s an art to make all the pieces fit perfectly together such that the seams are invisible.

It’s a skill I’m still honing. Granted, when I first started writing letters (back in the days of yore), I waxed idiotic about subplots, secondary characters, and I had no idea how to really write a hook. Since then, I’ve learned how to be more “concise” and I think I’ve got some voice. But as far as seemless, eh, still working.

That’s why I thought of washboards. When my mom was a child, wash day (well, it was actually Mondays, not Wednesdays, but heck, I’m taking literary license!) was wash DAY. In a world before washing machines, all clothing, towels, bedding, even cloth diapers—ick!—had to be washed by hand using a washboard.

Bottom line: If I think writing and re-writing a query letter is bad, oh boy, “washboard hands” takes the cake.

All right, so what’s my point? Well, writing is a lot of fun, but it takes discipline. It takes WORK. It takes tolerance of repetition. And it takes tolerance of tearing apart a query letter sentence by sentence, word by word, only to put it back together again. And again. And again. And again…

And again.

Ode to Nabica

Nabica is a colleague of mine. For the past year or so, we’ve been working as part of a team to develop a training curriculum that educates resident physicians how to evaluate patients for substance misuse, abuse, and dependence.

It’s white-knuckled, hair-raising fun, let me tell you.

Anyway, part of our work includes collaborating with a research expert and a computer programmer who developed an online training module. Well, you can imagine what it’s like for a handful of “living in the gray,” “sensitive-feely” types to assimilate with “black and white,” “binary code is the clearest language” types.

Sometimes conflict is inevitable. Resistance is futile. So when it occurs, what can be done?

A common approach involves clashing of communication styles and all around head butting, with neither side listening to the other. We’ve all been there, amen? Of course, it usually leads to grudges and more stand-offs, leading to even bigger hurdles to overcome.

To get back to my ode, Nabica does a fantastic job of “joining up” with a person stiffly holding onto their opposing viewpoint. (Yes, I borrowed the term from the Horse Whisperer. No, I do not mean she switches sides to agree with “other side.”) She makes the person feel understood and then softens them to another idea closer to the middle. Instead of employing the Art of War, she employs the Art of Negotiation.

Hint: Jedi mind tricks DO come in handy. Yes, it’s true. All shrink types use the force.

(Disclaimer: The opinion of the above statement does not reflect the opinion of the blog as a whole.)  * cheesy grin *

To get back to my original point, Nabica is one of my favorite people to look up to. Her style is calm, humorous, and open. She voices her opinions honestly, without condescension and judgment. Oh, and she’s so freakin’ intuitive I have the feeling she just “gets” it.

Not to get gushy here, but I have told Nabica how much I appreciate working with her. Sometimes it falls short. I don’t think she really knows just how much I’ve learned from her even through simple observation.

I must say this holds true to the people I’ve connected with through writing and blogging. Fortunately, I’ve found the “supportive ones.” At the same time, they don’t shy away from telling me directly what needs to be improved. They are, as the cliché says, worth their weight in gold.

Role models and mentors usually give their time and knowledge willingly and for free. Bonus! In what other situations can you get so much without making your wallet significantly thinner? Nowhere.

So how do we keep the spirit of goodwill, learning, and service going?

By giving back what we’ve received. A wise someone once said, “There’s three types of relationships each person should have. First, a teacher—someone to look up to and receive knowledge from. Second, a peer—someone at your level to exchange equal information with. And third, a student—someone to impart the knowledge you’ve gained, thereby passing on the gift of information and skill.”

Final thought: It is important to let our role models know we look up to them. It is important to share information with our peers in an open exchange of thoughts and ideas. It is crucial to sacrifice our own time to pass on the knowledge we’ve gained.

Tell me, who has had an influential role in your life and what have you done to show your appreciation, not only to him or her, but to your peers and your “students?”

Attitude Matters

This past week, I have seen this idea at work in the three major spheres of my life: Work, Spirituality, and Writing.

Awesome Pastor tripped off my thoughts and I reflected on how it applies to my life. I know each person’s belief system is personal and up to them, so I won’t get into the details here, but the upshot is he spoke about the motivation with which one gives. Not only does the amount (money, time, etc) mean something, but so does the reasoning behind it. I don’t have to go on to say that the topic of “giving” is apropos to the astronomical need in Haiti right now. Every day, I witness people’s generosity. It’s fantastic!

Moving on, in my work with patients, I have come to understand just how important attitude can be. Environmental stressors, biologic factors, and all around “bad stuff” notwithstanding, a person’s attitude can make all the difference.

I thoroughly acknowledge that when life looks negative, it’s almost impossible to see the positive. Sometimes it’s as if “good things” never existed. The world is black. Dark. Empty. Hopeless. Is there a way out of the pit? In the throes of depression, it’s hard to figure out a reason to care.

On the flip side (and this usually occurs after some hurdle has been overcome or a sense of mastery over one’s life/perspective has been obtained), one could think instead: Life has been tough. Traumatic experiences have happened. Nightmares and flashbacks still pop up. But…

Please know I’m not advocating people take on a fake mask of joy. In some sense, that is more dangerous than acknowledging “real” feelings. However, flipping things to the positive softens the blow, makes optimism easier, and fosters hope.

I’ve met people who have encountered horrible tragedies, endured tremendous abuse and torture, found themselves hurdling headlong toward their grave. A particular population of patients I work with has taught me more about focusing on the positive than I ever could have imagined. They literally have been brought back from the brink of death to be given that rare “second chance at life.” Sure, they get down from time to time and good days are mixed in with the bad, but they continue to strive to improve themselves every day. There’s nothing more inspiring than that.

Lastly (thank you if you’ve hung in ‘til the bitter end, I’ve got a bit long-winded), let me discuss how attitude has affected my writing. This week I tuned into a Tweetchat hosted by St. Martin’s Press for their New Adult contest finalist announcements. Back in November, seventeen other writers and I were chosen out of 383 submissions to be “winners.” Surprised and quite in shock, I sent off my partial manuscript for further review, hoping they would then request the full.

The upshot is: I made it to the semi-finals, but not the finals.

I’ll be honest. I was bummed. At the same time, I realized getting that far was an accomplishment. (And the finalists have some pretty awesome stories that I can’t wait to read, so a big congrats to them!)

So, considering the importance of attitude, how do I share this news with others? What behaviors will I express?

My choices are—and I stress CHOICES:

1)    Stew in “failure”—perceived, not actual.

2)    Drown in sorrow. (That’s not melodramatic or anything. * grin *)

3)    Throw in the towel, no more writing for me! * folds arms and pouts *

4)    Enjoy significance of accomplishing something.

5)    Feel excitement about the WIP I’m about to query.

6)    Eat lots of chocolate. (Okay, that goes without saying, amen?)

7)    Other (You ALWAYS need an other category. It’s true.)

Let’s see, I choose: 4, 5, and of course, 6. Guess what? It worked! My confidence didn’t take a nosedive. I didn’t hyper-focus on, “I should have done this or that.” People cheered me on! It brought me closer to others.

Wow. Attitude does matter.

Tell me friends, what are your experiences with and thoughts on attitude?

Is Praying With Patients Okay?

Can we just forgo the fact that I’m not talented at verbal prayer, especially in front of, you know, people? Okay.

Oh, boy, this question has been on my mind for a while. As a psychiatrist, it is important to maintain a safe environment, a containing frame, where patients can talk about anything and everything without fear of judgment and/or feeling shame. (Wow. I rhymed. That’s the closest to poetry y’all will see me come. No, seriously.) I’ve said this before, but it precludes me from sharing personal information about myself—like my religious beliefs! Or the fact that I watch waaaay too much South Park and Family Guy. Really, no self-respecting, well, anybody would do that to themselves. Yeah. Moving on.

Keeping that “rule” in mind, please consider the following: I receive online updates from Psychiatric Times (a popular newsletter sent to shrink-types) and one of this week’s feature articles was titled: Should You Pray With Your Patients? Cool! Something I’m interested in!

Below is a link to the article including a podcast from ethicist and psychiatrist Cynthia Geppert, MD, PhD. Should you be so inclined to give a listen, she discusses situations where it is okay to pray with patients as well as situations where a psychiatrist needs to be careful.

Link to podcast: http://www.psychiatrictimes.com/display/article/10168/1483619?verify=0

The upshot is that primary care doctors (and really all other specialties) do not have the level of boundaries required in psychiatry. In the therapy session, people are vulnerable and every situation needs to be handled with care and empathy. Now, you may say, “What’s the harm in praying?” Well, it is considered a boundary violation (meaning, a crossing of the line). It may lead to collusion with the person’s illness—Ex. What if the patient is delusional or, gasp, hyper-religious from a manic episode? Praying in that case could, in fact, harm the relationship and lead to worse outcomes. Eep! Furthermore, what if the patient isn’t religious, what if the psychiatrist isn’t religious, what if the prayer is about winning the lottery? What if the patient and psychiatrist are of different religious backgrounds? (This is all covered by the podcast, by the way if you have eight minutes to listen.)

Um, as a believing Christian, winding my way through life, navigating the balance between interfacing with secular culture while at the same time sharing my beliefs without sounding like, ahem, Pat Robertson, the situation gets sticky. I don’t stop patients when they tell me about their belief systems and I am quite happy to listen when they bring it up. Actually, a belief system can be a support in and of itself—bonus! Or, it can lead to a lot of guilty feelings (Psst, what if you’re gay or an alcoholic and your religion doesn’t “allow” that?).

So, what to do? What to do?

Confession: I actually started a Bible Study class (haven’t done that since…college, a decade ago), specifically on “friendly evangelism.” Not the shove it down your throat, believe this or else kind of thing, but, hey, this is how I look at things…and why.

Eh, I don’t think it’s appropriate to spout off Bible verses in a therapy session. I’m not a Christian counselor, so it’s outside of my arena. But it is important for me to let people know that I am “working for God.”

How? How?

Ugh… …had to take a break. Checked my e-mail, and here’s a message from a friend:

May there be peace within you today. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

Okay, God. I’m listening. I need to stop fretting it and just keep my eyes and ears open for opportunity. Will do.