Thursday’s Children May 30, 2013

Inspired by Bedrooms…

A weekly blog hop where writers share their inspirations. Please join us!

A weekly blog hop where writers share their inspirations. Please join us!

Alright, alright, get your minds out of the gutter, I’m talking about what bedrooms look like, not what takes place in them. To date, all my books have been YA. Teens usually don’t have much say when it comes to how a house is decorated, with the exception of their own bedrooms. A bedroom is a private domain, sometimes a refuge from what happens in the rest of the world. This room is also the one that is most likely to reveal the interests and fundamental traits of its teen inhabitant.

Writers can exploit this sneaky way of “showing” the reader facets of a character’s personality.

From UNQUIET SOULS

Here’s what my MC has to say about her own room…

I found I had a strong opinion about what color to paint my room. I’m not sure who was more surprised—me, or Mom. Instead of going along with the bright pastels she preferred, I insisted on a color which she named Dismal Drab. It was neither blue, nor green, not gray, but a soft misty tone that hovered somewhere in the middle. Like me, it was vague, nondescript, elusive.

9781588167392_int_190-207.qxp

She is obsessed with a boy named Sam. Here’s what she has to say about his room…

He slid what looked like an old barn door along its track, revealing a spacious, airy room inside. A row of windows at the back looked out at the sea. Mounted on the walls were several skateboards, a surfboard, antlers, a longbow, stone arrowheads in a glass-fronted case, and shelves holding the skeletal remains of numerous small animals. Suspended from a branch in one corner was a huge paper wasps’ nest. Long planks ran under the windows, forming a desk covered with scattered papers, drawing pencils, shells, and feathers. Comic books, skater magazines, CD cases, and hunks of driftwood littered the floor. So. This is where Beauty lives. It was perfectly imperfect.

photo from ebay

photo from ebay

photo from pbase(dot)com

photo from pbase(dot)com

In my book FOOLISH, the MC’s mom is a hoarder. Sparrow’s room is her safe haven and it’s neat as a pin. An OCD pin.  She has laid down the law. Phil (her name for her mom’s hoard) is not allowed entrance.

Do you use decor to help readers learn about your characters? Which rooms do you like describing?

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Thursday’s Children May 16, 2013

Inspired by fog…

A weekly blog hop where writers share their inspirations. Please join us!

A weekly blog hop where writers share their inspirations. Please join us!

Last week, Jessika Fleck’s TC post about snow sparked my idea for this post, in addition to time at the beach, during which I snapped these photos.

Photo by R. Wynn-Nolet

Photo by R. Wynn-Nolet

Photo by R. Wynn-Nolet

Photo by R. Wynn-Nolet

When I was in high school I wanted an airbrush, just so I could paint realistic mist and fog. Last week, on my way home, the sunny skies five miles inland gradually gave way to a thick fog blanket at the coast. It took only a few wisps drifting across the road to make my pulse race.

Fog is…atmospheric…transforming…disorienting…the sky brought down to our level. Otherworldly.

Sometimes, at the beach, people materialize out of the fog, right in front of me, like magic.

Fog makes an appearance in almost every book I’ve written.

Here are some excerpts about fog (which will also demonstrate that I don’t always write from a dark and twisty POV).

Unquiet Souls

The muffled sounds of waves lapping the shore enveloped us as we walked along the path. Clammy, salty-tasting mist turned the evergreens into feathery shadows. Our feet made almost no sound on the pine needles.

A slight puff of air on my right hand, like someone’s breath, raised goose bumps on the backs of both arms. I glanced behind us, but saw nothing.  Somewhere in the woods beside me a twig snapped. 

And later in that scene…

We kicked off our shoes and sat on a big boulder, above the seaweed line marking high tide…Droplets of moisture, like tiny crystal beads, collected on his hair. If only this moment could last indefinitely, the two of us in a cloud world, isolated from everything and everyone else.

If TENDRIL were actually a real book, mist might drift out from between the pages. It takes place in a fog-bound Maine town.

TENDRIL opening…

Sporadic blasts of the foghorn heralded our arrival at the lighthouse. The headlights illuminated the mist shrouding the island but couldn’t penetrate it. Once we were out of the car, fog clung to my skin like a veil. The air was thick with the smell of sea creatures, both living and dead.

Later in the book (“Pegasus” refers to her rickety bike)…

The fog was so dense I could taste its saltiness. Between the island and the mainland I flew among clouds, riding through the sky on my elderly Pegasus. The bleating of the foghorn and the disembodied cries of Canada geese seemed to come from the mist itself. I could see no more than a few feet in front of me… Had I not traveled the same route so many times I might easily have gotten lost.

Still later, in the voice of the male protagonist-

“Wait. Will you go out with me on Wednesday?”

“Yes…if I can…then I will.”

The way she said it gave me goose bumps. The bad kind. “What does that mean?”

“Well, you know, if I’m…free. There’s a chance I might not be. Goodbye, Dylan.” Before I could think of what to say, she disappeared into the fog, almost like she was part of it.

So, as you’ve read, I love the way fog can set a mood…ominous, romantic, mysterious. I think I need an “I ❤ Fog” bumper sticker. Or as we say here in Maine, bumpah stickah. Here’s a photo I took last fall. Those are my editorial assistants, getting a closer look at the boat.

Photo by R. Wynn-Nolet

Photo by R. Wynn-Nolet

Does fog appear in your writing? Do you like fog?

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