MY FIRST LOVE

This is my first blogfest. I'd like to thank Alex J. Cavanaugh for the opportunity.

There are four areas specified by this blogfest: books, movies, music, and people. Since I'm new at this, I'm only going to choose one.

I intended to choose a lover/boyfriend/unrequited love but, in thinking back, I remembered my very first love of all. Memories popped out at me with images so clear and striking and heart stopping, I felt as if I were there.

The years melted away in a heartbeat and I was five years old again waiting for the front door to open. Like a wriggly puppy unable to physically contain my joy, I would run to him the moment he stepped inside the house and be swept up in his big, powerful hands, tossed into the air to my exhilarated squeals, heart pounding wildly. He'd catch me like a football, hands around my belly, then fly me through the front room, Peter Pan style.

"There's my girl," he'd say as he carried me into the kitchen where mom burned dinner in her 1950s apron and gingham house dress. They would hug and kiss with me squeezed between them floating in the cocoon of love they wove around me. Safe in my cozy little world.

Yeah, it may be cliche, but my first love was my daddy.

That safe little world is gone now. I'm sixty, just got laid off and feeling deeply alone and vulnerable in the harsh reality of a hostile world. My father is almost ninety now, stooped and frail with cloudy eyes, a failing heart and a mind that struggles to be some small part of what it once was, but sometimes I still see him through the eyes of that little girl--tall and handsome and strong and with love shining bright in his blue, blue eyes.

He was my first hero. He flew me to bed so I could feel like TinkerBell. He read me stories of wonder as I fell asleep. When I wanted to touch the stars, he stood me on his steady shoulders to help me get closer and told me to reach. And when I asked questions he not only answered them but set up demonstrations and drew diagrams. He was never too tired or impatient to listen. He's the man I've compared all others to in my life.

He's my dad and he was my first true love. I am and will forever be his little girl.

Love ya, dad.

MY HERO

Heroes in romance novels vary widely but they mostly seem to be handsome, physically powerful, intelligent and wealthy.

This must be what most women are attracted to, but I'd be more likely to fall in love with the everyday hero. The kind of guy who stands up to life's challenges without complaint, who has plenty of support to give no matter what he's going through, and isn't afraid to be vulnerable.

My hero doesn't have to be drop-dead gorgeous or have six-pack abs or bulging biceps. He doesn't have to be rich or witty or really even all that smart. My hero is a little off-beat, makes me laugh and is there for me, always.

Okay, maybe I wouldn't turn down a spin with a great-looking guy with six-pack abs and loads of money. Throw in a little angst, smoldering eyes and unruly dark hair and I'm all in, at least for awhile.

A Layered Writer

Trying to meet a deadline for the Nocturne Cravings pitch at eHarlequin.com has taught me a few valuable lessons about writing.

First, I'm a very slow writer, even when I'm trying to free write. When I was younger, words flowed out of me like a river over a waterfall; those days are apparently over. The river has dried to a trickle. I can accept that as long as the water is still there.

Second, writing can be fun, but it can also be work. Before this, I had never had a real writing deadline. I wrote when I felt like it. If it wasn’t fun, I didn’t do it. To make this deadline, I must write for several hours every day on one project. It’s like having a second job. Don’t misunderstand; it’s hard but it feels good, like I’m seriously accomplishing something worthwhile.

Third, where once I was a one draft wonder, I am now a layered writer. I’ve discovered my mind can no longer see/write everything at once. I now need to layer my stories in multiple drafts. My first draft consists of description and action. This is how the characters look and this is what they do and say. In my second draft, I work in thoughts and emotions. These are the reasons the characters do what they do and say what they say. My third draft is for mechanics: grammar, spelling, style. And, so on.

So, even if I don't get my novella done in time for the pitch, I have discovered a renewed enthusiasm for writing. After the writing hole I've been in for so long, it feels amazing to actually enjoy writing and to look forward to it instead of avoiding it.

My Next Writing Tool

Since I've decided I'm going to outline before I write, I've found my next writing tool: Outline 4D. It sounds like a great program for outlining just about any writing project, including screenplays and novels. It integrates with popular programs like Word. I'm not sure if it works with Final Draft though, but I can get around that. They even have a website tutorial for it: (http://www.learnoutline4d.com/index.html).

Is anyone out there familiar with Outline 4D for the PC?

First Gentle Sex Scene

I'm writing my first gentle sex scene. I've put it off because I thought it would be a no-brainer. I've written hardcore sex before, this should be easy. Man, was I wrong! I'm not a prude. I like sex. I've had sex. I read sex. I even like talking about sex. It doesn't embarrass me.

So why can't I write about normal sex?

This concerns me because my chosen genre is erotic romance. Sex scenes are mandatory. My first attempt at heterosexual, loving sex read like an instruction manual--no passion, no inner dialog, no feeling. My second try was too much inner dialog and no action. I tried putting the two together but I can't make them flow. It's like switching between the Science and Soap channels.

I tried getting some refresher experience with my significant other last night. Unfortunately, we both have colds and had dosed ourselves with NyQuil. We ended up falling asleep on each other.

I now have a higher regard for writers who write successful sex scenes.

A-Z Blogging Challenge

I've joined a blogging challenge for the first time. It begins in April. Bloggers have to blog every day, except weekends, and each day has to be on a subject starting with a letter of the alphabet, A to Z.

I know what you're thinking: Just what Lisa needs, another way to spend time not writing her novel.

Well, you might be right. On the other hand, writng is writing.

I'm planning on being through the first draft of my novel by then. And if I'm not, I look on this as a writing exercise. Twenty-six subjects in twenty-six days. In alphabetical order. That should get my creativity flowing. And if I keep the posts short and on a subject I'm familiar with, it shouldn't be too time consuming. I'm hoping to use it as a warm-up to working on a WIP.

We'll see!

Goodbye, Moe

A good friend died last week. He was the father of my first boyfriend. Even though Tony and I broke up in junior high, Moe remained a friend to my parents. I didn't really get to know him until after I graduated high school. He was at my parents' house almost every evening for dinner so he became like a second father to me. He helped me when my parents couldn't. I have him to thank for some of the best memories of my life. My parents used to call him the Vampire of the Dawn because on weekends he would sometimes show up for breakfast after having been out all night partying. As he grew older, he left the wild life behind and became a student of religion. He was on his way, in his 80s, to getting a bachelor's degree in religious studies.

He didn't want a funeral so there won't be a gathering of friends and family. No way to say goodbye. It's  not important, really, but I still feel the need to say it. There will be a get-together but not until August because his death was so sudden and his son lives in Alaska.

August is too far away. So, I'm saying goodbye to him here.

Goodbye, Moe. I loved you, though I don't think I ever said it.  I regret that but I hope you knew.