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A late Community Story post today. Been busy, but I’ll have more for you tomorrow on my query letter journey. Now, let’s get right to the Community Story.

No one ventured into the Community Story waters last week, so I’ll just post my next addition.

If you’re new to the Day By Day Writer Community Story, click here for the full story so far. It was started by readers voting on a number of story starts, also submitted by readers. Every Monday I post a new addition, and throughout the week, readers can add what they think should be next in a comment post.

Without further ado, here’s the most recent bits and this week’s new addition.

Bonnie tried to speak, but her throat was dry.

What did this woman want? It had been 13 years since Bonnie had escaped, 13 years since she discovered her so called “cause” wasn’t anything more than an excuse for blood-hungry psycopaths to murder and pillage.

Bonnie gulped. It was so hard to believe she had been part of those horrors. She never regretted leaving. She never regretted telling the police. But then again, she never thought they’d find her again.

Now she had one choice, pretend she wasn’t the whistleblower that broke apart their criminal organization and go along with whatever plans they have in store for her, or resist. She knew her Star Trek well, and although these people weren’t the Borg, Bonnie figured option number 1 was best — for now.

“S’pose you want some water,” the voice said, thrusting a Heinz tomato sauce can in Bonnie’s face. “I rinsed it out first. Don’t have any proper cups.”

Bonnie took it and gulped the water, immediately feeling better. She handed the can back to the woman with a nod for more.

“Good thing we found you,” the woman said. “Gecko’s guys were right on your tail, and they won’t be nearly as forgiving as we will be.”

The woman refilled the can, and Bonnie drank again, feeling her energy returning with every drop.

She looked around. The only door was behind the woman, and the grimy windows were too high and too small for her to crawl through. She wondered where she was. She knew asking would be a waste of time, but she decided to try it anyway.

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice still cracking.

“Over the rainbow,” the woman said. She grinned, revealing yellowed teeth with a gap where one was missing at the front. “They’ll be here soon. Relax. They’ve all missed you.”

What’s next? You decide. Post the next part as a comment and it will be included in the full story next Monday.

Write On!

I must admit, I feel great. I’m on pace to finish my polish by the end of this week, and I can feel the excitement welling up. That excitement seems to also be helping me wake up early to write. I woke up at 6:45 with no alarm on Sunday and 5:45 this morning. It’s good when the writing is flowing.

Of course, that excitement also has a lot of nervousness mixed in, as once I’m finished with this polish — and a few more changes after I get notes from a couple friends who are reading the whole book — I’ll be sending it out to agents and editors for the first time. Shiver.

How is your writing going?

In the meantime, it’s Monday again, which means time to add to the Community Story. If you’re new to this, the Community Story started after readers voted on a bunch of story starters submitted by myself and more readers. Each Monday, I add a paragraph or two to the story, but in between, you can add your own paragraph or two to continue the story. Each Monday, before I add my bit, I’ll put your addition into the story, then continue based on what you’ve written. It’s a fun collaboration. It’s not for publication any where other than this blog, so you can get as silly and as whacky as you want with your additions. Click here to read the full story so far.

Below are the last couple additions to the story, plus my addition for this week.

Bonnie tried to speak, but her throat was dry.

What did this woman want? It had been 13 years since Bonnie had escaped, 13 years since she discovered her so called “cause” wasn’t anything more than an excuse for blood-hungry psycopaths to murder and pillage.

Bonnie gulped. It was so hard to believe she had been part of those horrors. She never regretted leaving. She never regretted telling the police. But then again, she never thought they’d find her again.

Now she had one choice, pretend she wasn’t the whistleblower that broke apart their criminal organization and go along with whatever plans they have in store for her, or resist. She knew her Star Trek well, and although these people weren’t the Borg, Bonnie figured option number 1 was best — for now.

“S’pose you want some water,” the voice said, thrusting a Heinz tomato sauce can in Bonnie’s face. “I rinsed it out first. Don’t have any proper cups.”

Bonnie took it and gulped the water, immediately feeling better. She handed the can back to the woman with a nod for more.

“Good thing we found you,” the woman said. “Gecko’s guys were right on your tail, and they won’t be nearly as forgiving as we will be.”

Da da da daaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… What will happen next? Add the next part as a comment.

Write On!

A little late on the update today, but here goes.

If you haven’t been following our Community Story, you can find the whole story to date by clicking on the Community Story page link on the left on the Day By Day Writer home page.

For those of you following along, here’s last week’s addition plus a new one from me this week. Don’t leave without joining in the fun. Post a comment with what you think the next word, sentence, paragraph should be.

Bonnie tried to speak, but her throat was dry.

What did this woman want? It had been 13 years since Bonnie had escaped, 13 years since she discovered her so called “cause” wasn’t anything more than an excuse for blood-hungry psycopaths to murder and pillage.

Bonnie gulped. It was so hard to believe she had been part of those horrors. She never regretted leaving. She never regretted telling the police. But then again, she never thought they’d find her again.

Now she had one choice, pretend she wasn’t the whistleblower that broke apart their criminal organization and go along with whatever plans they have in store for her, or resist. She knew her Star Trek well, and although these people weren’t the Borg, Bonnie figured option number 1 was best — for now.

Your turn! Post what’s next and we’ll continue the fun next Monday.

Write On!

It’s Community Story Monday again. But first, a check in with my goals.

Last week, I shortened my revision goal of six chapters a week to four. Then in the week, I only managed three. But I got up early today — I’m not sure why I was having so many problems getting up on time last week, but after losing an hour, I was able to get up at 5:30 — and finished revising another chapter. I’m on chapter 21 now, out of 33.

I also discovered something interesting last week. One scene wasn’t quite fitting in, so I took it out of the chapter it was in with the idea that I would put it back into the novel later when I found a better place. I moved onto the next chapter, and added into the scene a character who had been in the scene I took out. When I was done, I realized the new chapter achieved everything that it was supposed to achieve as well as what the scene I had taken out was supposed to achieve. So I didn’t need the scene I had taken out anymore. Sometimes, it helps to try new things. Most of the times, you’ll be surprised at the results.

Now onto the Community Story. As always, you can post what you think should be the next paragraph or sentence in the comments and they’ll be included next week. Below is the story so far, including Imatk’s addition posted in the comments in last Monday’s post. The last paragraph is this week’s addition from me.

Bonnie’s eyes flickered open as she laid on her back looking up at the sky. She caught a brief glimpse of a person moving away from a ledge 30 feet above her. Slightly dazed, she was not sure if she had fallen or been pushed, but what she did know was that her back was hurt and her head was throbbing from her fall. She lifted her right hand to her head. Wet. She was bleeding, and it didn’t feel like a cut that could be patched up with a Band Aid. It would have to wait, though. She could hear footsteps, and they were getting closer and more urgent.

Wincing against the pain that now radiated from her back as well as her head, Bonnie eased herself up to a sitting position and surveyed her surroundings. She had landed on a patch of soft grass nestled between two rock faces, and to her right was what looked like a drop off. She tried to stand, careful not to make any noise. But as her elbow buckled in pain, her hand knocked a small rock over the edge. She froze, waiting for the sound of the crash to alert the other people. But when no noise came, she looked over the edge and her head began to spin. The drop off was at least a hundred feet, ending in white caps of a rushing river.

Something hit the back of Bonnie’s head and she looked up. A rope had been thrown down from the ledge above her and a head was peering over the side. Panic rushed into Bonnie’s mind. “Climb up!” The head from above was shouting at her. But Bonnie didn’t know what to do. Was the head friend or foe? And really, what other choices did she have?

She grabbed the twisted rope and as she did, a FLASH popped into her mind. Wind rushed into her ears as she flew from the green Cadillac. Two quick glimpses of sky and earth and her face crunched against the rocky Tennessee soil.

That’s right. She had been in a car crash. No, not a crash, she remembered. She had jumped out of the car while it was still moving. But why would she do that? Or was she pushed? “Climb up!” the voice above her insisted again. Bonnie wished she could remember more.

The footsteps around the ledge were closer now and accompanied by shouts in a language Bonnie didn’t understand. She couldn’t see who owned the voices, but something told her they weren’t friendly. She wasn’t sure about the head above her either, but, as she looked over the hundred feet drop-off at the edge of her ridge, she knew she didn’t have much choice. She was going to have to trust someone — at least for now. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the rope and began to pull.

Every muscle in her body ached as she dragged herself up the mountainside to the ledge above. She could see the head disappearing then appearing again. As she got closer, Bonnie realized there was concern in the person’s eyes. But still, she told herself, that doesn’t mean she can trust them. As her left hand reached for the edge of the ledge, her right hand balled into a fist, ready to strike as soon as she was on steady ground.

A hand reached over the ledge and pulled Bonnie up the last few feet. The head that had seemed so distant from below now looked strange. Bonnie had no recollection of this person whatsoever. She squinted, as though through slits she might get a better idea of who owned this face. A memory just began to poke into her brain, when everything went white and Bonnie collapsed on the floor.

The smell of wet newspaper filtered into her nose, pulling Bonnie from her daze.

Her eyes slid open like withered old windows to reveal a dark wet room of block concrete and hanging lawn equipment.

The only trace of life in this gray room was a small green plant standing as proudly as a three-inch plant could stand, almost as if the plant were in defiance of its terrible living condition.

Bonnie sat up, but her pounding brain quickly pulled her flat on her back again. She lay on a steel table, cold and slightly wet.

Her eyes opened again and then she heard footsteps.

A door creaked open, letting in a spray of bright sunshine that slapped Bonnie’s eyes. Then the door was slammed shut again. Bonnie could hear breathing, then shuffling of shoes on concrete. She wanted to scream. She wanted to get up and run. But her body was completely frozen.

“You awake?” said a voice.

The next part is yours. Post in the comments, what you think will come next.

First about my goals. Had a bad week last week. Only got three chapters done. So, as I’ve missed my goal of six chapters for two weeks now, I’m going to revise the goal to four. I think part of the reason I’ve been missing my goal is too many late nights and not waking up early enough for my morning writing (I actually missed writing on Friday altogether), but also, I’m comparing with the first week of my novel polish when I did nine chapters, but those were chapters that had already been worked through a few times, and the ones I’m doing now aren’t in quite as good shape. So, new goal: 4 chapters a week. That means I should be done in about four and a half weeks from now, so, by the end of the first week in April. My first editor submission deadline from the SCBWI Houston Editor’s Day is Aug. 21, so that’s plenty of time.

And now, onto the Monday Community Story. The whole story so far is pasted below, with my latest addition in the last section. You can decide what happens next by posting a comment with what you think the next sentence or paragraph should be. That sentence or paragraph will become part of the full story next Monday.

Happy Community Storying…

Bonnie’s eyes flickered open as she laid on her back looking up at the sky. She caught a brief glimpse of a person moving away from a ledge 30 feet above her. Slightly dazed, she was not sure if she had fallen or been pushed, but what she did know was that her back was hurt and her head was throbbing from her fall. She lifted her right hand to her head. Wet. She was bleeding, and it didn’t feel like a cut that could be patched up with a Band Aid. It would have to wait, though. She could hear footsteps, and they were getting closer and more urgent.

Wincing against the pain that now radiated from her back as well as her head, Bonnie eased herself up to a sitting position and surveyed her surroundings. She had landed on a patch of soft grass nestled between two rock faces, and to her right was what looked like a drop off. She tried to stand, careful not to make any noise. But as her elbow buckled in pain, her hand knocked a small rock over the edge. She froze, waiting for the sound of the crash to alert the other people. But when no noise came, she looked over the edge and her head began to spin. The drop off was at least a hundred feet, ending in white caps of a rushing river.

Something hit the back of Bonnie’s head and she looked up. A rope had been thrown down from the ledge above her and a head was peering over the side. Panic rushed into Bonnie’s mind. “Climb up!” The head from above was shouting at her. But Bonnie didn’t know what to do. Was the head friend or foe? And really, what other choices did she have?

She grabbed the twisted rope and as she did, a FLASH popped into her mind. Wind rushed into her ears as she flew from the green Cadillac. Two quick glimpses of sky and earth and her face crunched against the rocky Tennessee soil.

That’s right. She had been in a car crash. No, not a crash, she remembered. She had jumped out of the car while it was still moving. But why would she do that? Or was she pushed? “Climb up!” the voice above her insisted again. Bonnie wished she could remember more.

The footsteps around the ledge were closer now and accompanied by shouts in a language Bonnie didn’t understand. She couldn’t see who owned the voices, but something told her they weren’t friendly. She wasn’t sure about the head above her either, but, as she looked over the hundred feet drop-off at the edge of her ridge, she knew she didn’t have much choice. She was going to have to trust someone — at least for now. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the rope and began to pull.

Every muscle in her body ached as she dragged herself up the mountainside to the ledge above. She could see the head disappearing then appearing again. As she got closer, Bonnie realized there was concern in the person’s eyes. But still, she told herself, that doesn’t mean she can trust them. As her left hand reached for the edge of the ledge, her right hand balled into a fist, ready to strike as soon as she was on steady ground.

A hand reached over the ledge and pulled Bonnie up the last few feet. The head that had seemed so distant from below now looked strange. Bonnie had no recollection of this person whatsoever. She squinted, as though through slits she might get a better idea of who owned this face. A memory just began to poke into her brain, when everything went white and Bonnie collapsed on the floor.

The next part is up to you! Post the next sentence or paragraph in the comments and it’ll be included in the full story next Monday.

Write On!

Wow, the week passes fast.

It’s Monday again, so it’s time for the Community Story. But first a little update. At the beginning of last week, I was ahead on my writing goal of revising six chapters a week and feeling really good. The end of the week got hectic, however, and I ended Sunday a chapter short (although I had started working on my sixth chapter). This morning I got up early and, I think, figured out how to fix my boring chapter beginning, so I’m back on a roll, and plan to do six chapters this week — preferably seven as I was short last week.

Also, on Saturday, I went to the Houston chapter of the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators Editor’s Day, and I can report it was fabulous. Five editors, great access, candid conversations. I’ll be posting about that later this week. But for now, I’ll say I still feel on a high from it.

Oh, also, we have another interview with a debut author on Day By Day Writer tomorrow. Annette Fix, author of The Break-Up Diet, will stop by on her blog tour and give us some insight into her experiences with self-publishing, a hot topic and a choice that is being explored more and more by authors these days. So stop by for that one.

Now on to this week’s installment of our Community Story. It’s still not too long, so I’ve posted everything we’ve got so far, plus my new addition at the bottom. Leave a post saying what you think the next sentence or paragraph should be:

Bonnie’s eyes flickered open as she laid on her back looking up at the sky. She caught a brief glimpse of a person moving away from a ledge 30 feet above her. Slightly dazed, she was not sure if she had fallen or been pushed, but what she did know was that her back was hurt and her head was throbbing from her fall. She lifted her right hand to her head. Wet. She was bleeding, and it didn’t feel like a cut that could be patched up with a Band Aid. It would have to wait, though. She could hear footsteps, and they were getting closer and more urgent.

Wincing against the pain that now radiated from her back as well as her head, Bonnie eased herself up to a sitting position and surveyed her surroundings. She had landed on a patch of soft grass nestled between two rock faces, and to her right was what looked like a drop off. She tried to stand, careful not to make any noise. But as her elbow buckled in pain, her hand knocked a small rock over the edge. She froze, waiting for the sound of the crash to alert the other people. But when no noise came, she looked over the edge and her head began to spin. The drop off was at least a hundred feet, ending in white caps of a rushing river.

Something hit the back of Bonnie’s head and she looked up. A rope had been thrown down from the ledge above her and a head was peering over the side. Panic rushed into Bonnie’s mind. “Climb up!” The head from above was shouting at her. But Bonnie didn’t know what to do. Was the head friend or foe? And really, what other choices did she have?

She grabbed the twisted rope and as she did, a FLASH popped into her mind. Wind rushed into her ears as she flew from the green Cadillac. Two quick glimpses of sky and earth and her face crunched against the rocky Tennessee soil.

That’s right. She had been in a car crash. No, not a crash, she remembered. She had jumped out of the car while it was still moving. But why would she do that? Or was she pushed? “Climb up!” the voice above her insisted again. Bonnie wished she could remember more.

The footsteps around the ledge were closer now and accompanied by shouts in a language Bonnie didn’t understand. She couldn’t see who owned the voices, but something told her they weren’t friendly. She wasn’t sure about the head above her either, but, as she looked over the hundred feet drop-off at the edge of her ridge, she knew she didn’t have much choice. She was going to have to trust someone — at least for now. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the rope and began to pull.

Every muscle in her body ached as she dragged herself up the mountainside to the ledge above. She could see the head disappearing then appearing again. As she got closer, Bonnie realized there was concern in the person’s eyes. But still, she told herself, that doesn’t mean she can trust them. As her left hand reached for the edge of the ledge, her right hand balled into a fist, ready to strike as soon as she was on steady ground.

All right! The next part is up to you! Post a message and say what you think will happen next. Who is this mystery head? You let us know. Your contributions will be included in the full story next Monday.

Write On!

It’s that time again. Let’s jump right in.

No additions from readers last week — come on, join in, the water’s fine — so here’s the whole story so far plus the last paragraph is my addition for today. Post what you think should come next in the comments, and they’ll be joined to the story next Monday.

Bonnie’s eyes flickered open as she laid on her back looking up at the sky. She caught a brief glimpse of a person moving away from a ledge 30 feet above her. Slightly dazed, she was not sure if she had fallen or been pushed, but what she did know was that her back was hurt and her head was throbbing from her fall. She lifted her right hand to her head. Wet. She was bleeding, and it didn’t feel like a cut that could be patched up with a Band Aid. It would have to wait, though. She could hear footsteps, and they were getting closer and more urgent.

Wincing against the pain that now radiated from her back as well as her head, Bonnie eased herself up to a sitting position and surveyed her surroundings. She had landed on a patch of soft grass nestled between two rock faces, and to her right was what looked like a drop off. She tried to stand, careful not to make any noise. But as her elbow buckled in pain, her hand knocked a small rock over the edge. She froze, waiting for the sound of the crash to alert the other people. But when no noise came, she looked over the edge and her head began to spin. The drop off was at least a hundred feet, ending in white caps of a rushing river.

Something hit the back of Bonnie’s head and she looked up. A rope had been thrown down from the ledge above her and a head was peering over the side. Panic rushed into Bonnie’s mind. “Climb up!” The head from above was shouting at her. But Bonnie didn’t know what to do. Was the head friend or foe? And really, what other choices did she have?

She grabbed the twisted rope and as she did, a FLASH popped into her mind. Wind rushed into her ears as she flew from the green Cadillac. Two quick glimpses of sky and earth and her face crunched against the rocky Tennessee soil.

That’s right. She had been in a car crash. No, not a crash, she remembered. She had jumped out of the car while it was still moving. But why would she do that? Or was she pushed? “Climb up!” the voice above her insisted again. Bonnie wished she could remember more.

The footsteps around the ledge were closer now and accompanied by shouts in a language Bonnie didn’t understand. She couldn’t see who owned the voices, but something told her they weren’t friendly. She wasn’t sure about the head above her either, but, as she looked over the hundred feet drop-off at the edge of her ridge, she knew she didn’t have much choice. She was going to have to trust someone — at least for now. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the rope and began to pull.

What will happen to Bonnie next? You decide. Upload your sentence or paragraph as a comment on this blog post and it’ll be added to the Community Story next Monday. Tune in then for more Community Story fun.

Write On!

I talk a lot about the importance of writing every day and for some, I understand that it’s not the way they work. But for me, I can tell you, I need it. Writing is like a drug, and I feel as though I’ve been jonesing for a fix for the last few weeks.

A few weeks ago, I finished the revision of my novel and made a new goal: finish reviewing my friend’s novel, then finish our taxes, then start polishing my novel from the beginning again. It was a good idea to give myself a break from the novel, so that when I start again, I’ll have a new perspective and be able to see more than if I had gone straight to through it after I’d just finished. And it was a necessary goal, because, as with all of us, I always have way too much on my plate and I needed to get a couple things off.

But last week, as I was feeling stressed (my day-job has been crazy too), I suddenly realized why I was feeling out of sorts — I wasn’t writing. I confessed to my husband, who said, “Get back to it!”

I’m happy to say that I did finish my friend’s novel and our taxes, so I will be getting back to 5am wake up times as soon as I get over this cold (uggg). But this taught me something, a lesson I’ve actually learned a number of times and am always surprised when I learn it again. I need to write. It’s as simple as that. When I’m writing, no matter what else is happening in my life, no matter how tired I am from my 5am wake ups, I can get through anything. Writing seems to center me and put everything else in my life in perspective, so I can better handle the stress.

We all need outlets of some kind. For us writers, writing is that outlet, and whether we’re doing it for profit or for fun, the need to do it is the same.

Although I needed the time off to do my friend’s novel and our taxes, next time I’m in this situation, I will change my goal. I’ll still give myself time to let a project sit between revisions — it can help enormously — but during that time, I’ll write something else.

So, on to some writing, of the community kind. Still no takers on the Community Story, but there are readers, so we’ll continue. Who will be the first to add a sentence or paragraph? Come on, don’t be shy.

Here’s what we have so far, plus my addition for this week. Post your addition in the comments and they’ll be listed next Monday.

Bonnie’s eyes flickered open as she laid on her back looking up at the sky. She caught a brief glimpse of a person moving away from a ledge 30 feet above her. Slightly dazed, she was not sure if she had fallen or been pushed, but what she did know was that her back was hurt and her head was throbbing from her fall. She lifted her right hand to her head. Wet. She was bleeding, and it didn’t feel like a cut that could be patched up with a Band Aid. It would have to wait, though. She could hear footsteps, and they were getting closer and more urgent.

Wincing against the pain that now radiated from her back as well as her head, Bonnie eased herself up to a sitting position and surveyed her surroundings. She had landed on a patch of soft grass nestled between two rock faces, and to her right was what looked like a drop off. She tried to stand, careful not to make any noise. But as her elbow buckled in pain, her hand knocked a small rock over the edge. She froze, waiting for the sound of the crash to alert the other people. But when no noise came, she looked over the edge and her head began to spin. The drop off was at least a hundred feet, ending in white caps of a rushing river.

Something hit the back of Bonnie’s head and she looked up. A rope had been thrown down from the ledge above her and a head was peering over the side. Panic rushed into Bonnie’s mind. “Climb up!” The head from above was shouting at her. But Bonnie didn’t know what to do. Was the head friend or foe? And really, what other choices did she have?

That last paragraph is this week’s addition. Post your additions in the comments and we’ll see where the story goes. Enjoy!

Write On!

As promised, here’s the next installment of the Community Story. No one was brave enough to add a continuation last week, so you’re getting another one from me.

But, first, congrats to local (local to me, at least) first-time author Jenny Moss, whose debut novel, a middle-grade book called Winnie’s War, is apparently getting rave reviews. The book will be out Feb. 3, and Moss is doing a book launch at our local Barnes & Noble on Feb. 7. Good luck to her. It’s wonderful to hear about new authors getting their books into shelves.

And now for the Community Story. The first paragraph is from last week, with my addition below. Add your ideas for the next sentence or paragraph in the comments:

Bonnie’s eyes flickered open as she laid on her back looking up at the sky. She caught a brief glimpse of a person moving away from a ledge 30 feet above her. Slightly dazed, she was not sure if she had fallen or been pushed, but what she did know was that her back was hurt and her head was throbbing from her fall. She lifted her right hand to her head. Wet. She was bleeding, and it didn’t feel like a cut that could be patched up with a Band Aid. It would have to wait, though. She could hear footsteps, and they were getting closer and more urgent.

Wincing against the pain that now radiated from her back as well as her head, Bonnie eased herself up to a sitting position and surveyed her surroundings. She had landed on a patch of soft grass nestled between two rock faces, and to her right was what looked like a drop off. She tried to stand, careful not to make any noise. But as her elbow buckled in pain, her hand knocked a small rock over the edge. She froze, waiting for the sound of the crash to alert the other people. But when no noise came, she looked over the edge and her head began to spin. The drop off was at least a hundred feet, ending in white caps of a rushing river.

Now it’s your turn. Add the next sentence or paragraph in the comments and check in next Monday for the next installment.

Write On!

I finally finished my novel revision on Saturday, only three days past my end-of-year deadline. At least it’s finished. Next up, finish editing a friend’s novel, do our taxes (ugg) and then back to my novel for a good polish.

Even though I’ve just finished the revision, I actually can’t wait to start from the beginning again. The characters are still alive in my mind, and I’ve been writing down notes of ideas to consider in the next revision. But I’m holding myself back for two reasons: first, I really need to get these other things done, and second, time away from your work helps you see it in a new perspective, see the flaws, the mistakes, the typos spell check won’t find. So, I’m sticking to my guns, but hopefully, it won’t be long until I’m back in that world.

And, it’s the new year (HAPPY NEW YEAR!), and so, time to start the Community Story. I meant to write this on Sunday, then yesterday, but time ran away with me (he’s funny like that).

As a reminder, the Community Story is something that I’ll moderate on this blog but we will all be able to contribute to. Kind of like regular writer prompts, but with a running theme. We’ll start by voting for the story start from the ones submitted by readers (listed below), then, in the comments, you can add your suggestions for what should come next in the story. Each week, I’ll post the next sentence or paragraph for the running story and we can continue to add to it and see where it goes. How fun!

The Community Story is not for future publication outside of this blog. It’s just for fun, something to keep our creative juices flowing. When you’re stuck or need a quick break, you can check here for the latest in the Community Story and add your own next piece.

So, here are our Community Story beginnings. Please vote in the comments.

Thanks to Mand for this entry: It wasn’t the first time Derek had been swimming, but it was the loudest.

Gratitude to Shane for: Bonnie’s eyes flickered open as she laid on her back looking up at the sky. She caught a brief glimpse of a person moving away from a ledge 30 feet above her. Slightly dazed, she was not sure if she had fallen or been pushed, but what she did know was that her back was hurt and her head was throbbing from her fall.

Kudos to Jamie for: Rain spat down the window as he watched his mother’s ‘67 Impala drive away.

Gracias to Jennie Wong for: Sherry fought the urge to drink away her troubles, but it was especially hard given her job as a wine critic.

Merci to Layne for: Erika pulled her hood over her head as she boarded the red line to Bethesda. She drew the note from her pocket, re-reading the instructions for the thousandth time. Who was this man, and what did he want with her? “I should have brought a weapon,” she thought.

Thanks to KC for: Abraham followed the acrid stench to the door at the end of the hall.

And lastely, from me: Sarah knew all about ice. She knew it happened when the air got really cold and your breath turned into smoke. She knew it was hardened water and would melt in the spring. She knew it could make icicles that were as sharp as needles. What she didn’t know, until now, was that a face could be buried in it.

Vote On!

Got another two chapters done today. Goal achieved! Tomorrow, chapter 23 and 24.

Also, thanks fo Layne and Jennie who posted story starters for the community story I’ll be starting in the new year. There’s still time to post one. I still haven’t even done one myself. Click here and post in the comments. After the holidays, we’ll vote on the best one and start our community story.

Finally, here’s part 2 of the Day By Day Writer interview with Ellen Booraem, author of The Unnameables. I posted part one yesterday. Thanks again to Ellen for giving us all this great info.

How did you find your agent, Kate Schafer Testerman, and could you tell us about the partnership you have with her and had with your Unnameables editor?

My query letter never did work. Fortunately, I live in a part of Maine that sees a lot of creative people from New York in the summer. After I’d written the new version of Medford and the Goatman, I showed it to Bill Henderson, founding publisher of the Pushcart Press, and his wife, novelist Genie Chipps Henderson. Bill and Genie sent the manuscript to Kate, who at that time was working alongside Bill’s agent at Janklow & Nesbitt.. And, fortunately, she liked it!

I love working with Kate and with Kathy Dawson, who’s my editor at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. They’re patient with my ignorance and utterly committed to making my books as good as they possibly can be. Neither has ever suggested a change “because that’s what the market wants.”

Since I’m up in the boonies of Maine, Kathy’s in New York, and Kate now has started her own agency in Colorado, both relationships are heavy on email. I’ve met Kathy, but have never been in the same room with Kate—I think I’ve heard her voice on the phone about three times in as many years. And yet we feel we know each other pretty well.

You’re a member of Class 2k8. Please tell us about this group and how you got involved with it.

The Class of 2k8 is a group of 27 debut authors of middle-grade and young-adult fiction. We banded together as a group marketing effort, which has included a group web site and blog, an email publicity push, a brochure mailing to libraries and bookstores, and a few group appearances in various parts of the country. I found out about the concept from YA author Carrie Jones, who lives here in Maine. Her first book, Tips on Having a Gay (Ex) Boyfriend, came out in 2007 and she was in the Class of 2k7, which inaugurated the group marketing idea for newbie kidlit writers. Now the Class of 2k9 is about to start its year, and a Class of 2k10 is forming.

2k8 has been a fantastic experience. We have a Yahoo email loop, which was set up for group planning and notices. But half the time we use it just to crow or commiserate, and to share experiences and expertise. I would have been lost this year without my 2k8 classmates.

What did you do to promote The Unnameables and did you find anything that surprised you in that process? What were the easiest and most difficult parts?

I joined the Class of 2k8 because I knew publishers weren’t able to give books as much promotion as they used to. Frankly, the surprise to me was the amount of promotion I did get from Harcourt. I worked with publicists Sarah Shealy and Barbara Fisch (who, sadly, were victims of the early December “Black Wednesday” layoffs that swept the publishing industry). They were an endless font of wisdom, and got my book “out there” far more than I expected.

My own efforts consist of a web site and a blog. I contacted some bookstores and newspapers in Maine, did some local signings and talks, and joined fellow 2k8ers on a panel discussion in several Barnes & Noble stores in Massachusetts. Also I visited Gustavus Adolphus College in Minnesota to talk about writing and related stuff. The blog continues to be difficult for me, because I’ve never kept a journal, don’t enjoy writing personal essays, and can’t persuade myself that anyone out there wants to know what my life is like.

I’ve read that you’re now revising your second novel. Could you tell us anything about it?

My editor has the first revision, and is about to send me her comments. I’m sure I have at least one more revision in my future. The working title is The Filioli. It’s about a relentlessly practical 13-year-old whose family inherits an inn that becomes infested by fairies. The fairies are addicted to luxurious illusions and are debating a change of magic that will eliminate such illusions. The family gets swept into the politics.

That sounds so much fun. I look forward to reading it. Is there something you’ve learned that you wish someone had told you when you started writing?

Get to know your characters as well as you possibly can before you get too far into the plot.

Any other tips you’d like to tell aspiring writers?

Develop as many contacts as you can, and use them at every stage of your process. Whether you use a real-life or on-line critique group while writing and revising will depend on your personality. But once you’re shopping and marketing the book you need every contact you’ve got.

Thanks so much for your time. Good luck for the continued success for The Unnameables and your future books. We look forward to reading them.

Write On!

Checking in, I achieved yesterday’s goal this morning and went further, editing chapter 15 and 16, but they were both straight edits without much reworking needed. Tomorrow’s goal: chapter 17, which will need a bit of a rewrite to fit my new outline.

Also yesterday, I put out the request for starter lines for our community story to start in the new year. Thank you Mand, who offered a great one in a comment on yesterday’s blog. Anyone else got some? I’ll have a think too, and we can vote in a couple weeks.

On the subject of starters, agent Nathan Bransford is holding his second Stupendously Ultimate First Paragraph Challenge.  You can post in a comment the first paragraph of any work in progress for the chance to win your “choice of a partial critique, query critique or 15 minute phone conversation in which we can discuss topics ranging from reality TV shows to, you know, publishing. Your choice. Runners up will receive query critiques and/or other agreed-upon prizes.”

A lot of writers have already posted some brilliant first paragraphs. The deadline is Thursday at 4pm Pacific time and the winner will be announced on Friday (guess what Nathan will be doing Thursday night!). So dig up all those WIPs and post those first paragraphs. I’m going to do mine today.