Living the Dream

Happy April Fool’s Day! Welcome to the first post in this year’s A to Z Blog Challenge. I hope you’ll join me each day as I work through the alphabet and give you a glimpse of my everyday life, joys, and struggles as an author. Please feel free to follow my blog and comment on my posts.

My first post will be concerning the latest complication for independent writers like myself. A is for Artificial Intelligence. There are several different types of AI available for writers. Most have a free version, but many also offer a paid subscription that’s supposed to be better. Among those most often quoted are Copy Al, supposedly the best one, Rytr, ChatGPT, Word tune, and Write Sonic.

While some authors claim that using AI simply enhances their own writing, I’m not sold on it. At the moment, there are too many unknowns and contradictory points that make it something to be avoided–at least until publishers and the reading public come to a consensus. I find it hard to believe that a computer can replicate the emotions and effort I put into my books. Do they do all the research I do to ensure that the factoids I add to the stories are as accurate as can be? Do they live and breathe the characters the way I do? Can they convey the nuances of a plot as it forms inside my head and transfer it into the story?

I have trouble believing it can when a grammar program can’t even identify context. But, people are using the software to generate books at an incredible speed. In a matter of hours, they produce a book that takes me weeks and sometimes months to create. The more books you have out, the better the odds are that you’ll get recognized, but surely the quality of the book makes a difference, too? My books may take longer to write, but I pour my heart and soul into each one. Unfortunately, while I was in competition with thousands of books written by indie writers, that number has grown exponentially thanks to the AI-assisted authors. Does it matter to the reader if the book is written with AI? Honestly, I don’t know, and that’s also a big part of the problem.

In the end, it means that it’s harder for me to find a reading audience for my works, which results in reduced income and that “Is it worth the effort?” feeling. But, I love to write, and so I’ll continue slogging along and hope that someone will find my books and escape from life if only for a few hours. Of course, leaving a review would be helpful too, but more about that in a later post.

Come back tomorrow for my post on the letter B.

Check out blog posts from other participants here: https://tinyurl.com/w54yupwe

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Mother Nature gave us another quick blast of winter late last week. Luckily, I hadn’t put away my boots and snowscrapers. Still, it’s technically spring in the Northern Hemisphere, so things are bound to settle down sooner or later.

Our word prompt this week is SILVERY. Since this is the last post for March, with Easter celebrated by some this weekend, it’s a fitting time to spice up the story. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones, my Contemporary Paranormal Romance Suspense. The plot thickens.

Rather than leave Raven with James, Marina picked up the kitten and went into the vestibule. She turned on the light, filling the room with a silvery glow. Opening the door, the smile on her face froze in place.

She stared at the stranger, a strong sense of déjà vu filling her. She knew this man, had known him for eons. She blinked, the image of them in bed vanishing as quickly as it had come. Her cheeks burned.

He was as tall and broad-shouldered as James, but his dark auburn hair was cut short, and his beard was little more than scruff although it suited him. The most remarkable thing about him was his hazel eyes that shone gold in the weak light, reminding her of the man at Heathrow. Above his right eye, he had a scar similar to the one Harry Potter was said to have in Rowling’s books.

She smothered a giggle. Talk about an overactive imagination. As if he were a cursed child who’d grown into a wizard.

Regardless of who and what he was, he was a magnificent specimen, just like James, but it was the sense that she’d seen him before that confused her. If she’d met this man, she would never have forgotten him. Raven who kept her distance from James, hissing at him if he came close to her, purred loudly, reminding her to speak.

“Please, come in. It’s not a fit night for man or beast. What can I do for you, Mr.?”

The man stood on the stoop staring at her. The stunned look on his face reminded her once more of the man she’d seen at Heathrow. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and tried again.

“I’m sorry. I’m Dr. Jerome Morrison.”

Relief flooded her. No wonder she’d reacted so strongly to him. Just his picture had enthralled her, and here he was in the flesh. Hadn’t she wanted to meet him? It seemed as if Scotland really was a magical place where dreams came true.

“Of course! That’s why you look so familiar. I saw your picture when I toured Urquhart Castle. I’m Marina Fraser, by the way. I was sorry to hear that you’d retired.” She blinked. “Why are you here?”

He stared at her a second or two longer then seemed to pull himself together.

“Lady Fraser, you aren’t at all what I expected.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Time is streaking by. This week, our word prompt is MARK. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. And the plot thickens. Enjoy!

Raven chose that moment to introduce herself. She jumped down from the couch, tumbling ass over tea kettle, before approaching Maeve, and rubbing against her legs.

It was odd how the animal stayed away from James but seemed to befriend everyone else.

“Look at you.” She turned to Marina. “What’s her name?”

“Raven. We found her huddled against the building when we arrived.”

Maeve reached down to pick up the kitten. She opened the animal’s mouth and smiled.

“’Tis an unusual name for a kitten. I doubt she’s more than ten weeks old. She weighs about a kilo and still has her baby teeth. She’s not one of our cats. None of our queens have kittened yet, although when Mab disappeared last week, I thought she might have, but she was back within a couple of days as pregnant as ever.”

Marina cocked her head. Queen Mab? It had a familiar ring to it.

“You call your pregnant cats queens? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Aye. It’s the term given to an unspayed female cat, especially when she’s expecting kittens. As to the provenance of this wee one, we do have a few feral ones in the area, but eventually, those are adopted by one of the locals. I’ll wager someone from town dropped it off as soon as it could leave its mother.” She shook her head. “It’s not the best way to get rid of unwanted kittens, but we see it often enough, especially black ones. The fools don’t understand the role cats play in keeping the mice and rats at bay.” She held it up and smiled. “You’re a special kitty, aren’t you?”

Marina frowned. “What do you mean?”

 James stood back with his arms crossed. He reminded her of a pouting child who wasn’t getting the attention he wanted.

“See that wee, white mark on her chest?” She turned the kitten so that Marina could see the spot. “She’s Cat Sith and belongs to the fairies, most probably a gift from them to welcome you home and keep ye safe. She may be tiny, but she’ll have powers of her own.”

She set the cat down.

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Our word is SWALLOW. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones.

The woman shook her head. “The electrical is working just fine at my place and even in the little but and ben we fixed up for our granddaughter.”

Marina cocked her head. “But and ben? What on earth is that?”

The woman grinned. “I forgot you’ll not be aware of the meaning of many of our terms. My granddaughter has come to learn the trade, but she wanted some privacy. The laird let us renovate one of the outbuildings we no longer use. It’s just two rooms and a bathroom, but it suits her well. She’s decorated it to suit her personality. She found an old one and converted it into a sofa bed.”

“I see. Are there many of these but and bens on the estate?”

“Nay, but there’s a croft that sits empthy and has for almost thirty years. “Twas where you lived wiith your parents before…” She sopped speaking as if afraid she’d said too much. “And you say the electricity is out? Have you checked the power box? Brian was replacing lightbulbs yesterday, but most of those are in the guest wing. Let me check the power box—”

“Wait!” Marina interrupted the woman. “Who are you?”

The woman laughed and smacked herself in the forehead. “Ach! What an idiot I am. I’m Maeve MacIsaac. I’m the housekeeper here. My husband, Donald, is your estate manager. My daughter Anya works with me while her husband Brian Lennox is your handyman.” The woman stopped speaking and stared at her. “I knew your mother and considered her a friend. Your resemblance to Alice, your grandmother is startling. Your eyes are so like hers … and your father’s, of course. I was just a wee thing when she passed, but the whole estate mourned her loss. It tore the heart out of your grandfather and his brother who blamed the man for her death.”

Marina swallowed her shock. “I don’t understand. Why would Great-uncle Angus do that?”

“That’s right. You probably don’t know about the sorrows. Sadly, we’ve had more than our fair share. Let me check the power box and once I have that fixed, I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Welcome to this year’s A to Z April Challenge Blog. As I did last year, this year’s blog will focus on aspects of writing. Last year, I wrote about the various literary devices, and how I used them in my writing. This year, I intend to focus on other areas of the craft, including finding ideas, creating a voice, writing the story, editing and re-editing, marketing, and all the other minutia of growing as an author.

The one thing I’ve learned in my career is that the writing part is actually the easiest, the marketing is by far the hardest, and like the writing environment itself, I’m constantly changing and evolving. When I first decided I wanted to be a writer, there were no computers. I typed my poems and short stories on a manual typewriter, eventually moving up to an electric one, and then later an old Commodore 64 with a dot matrix printer. Needless to say, I never finished anything particularly terrific back then, although I did write children’s stries for our local newspaper.

Life got in the way of my goal to be a published author. I went to university, graduated, got married, started a family and enjoyed the luxury of being a stay-at-home mom for ten years, where I read voraciously in what little spare time I had, never giving up on the idea of being a writer myself. Once the children were all in school, , worked as a teacher, primarily focused on English and literacy.

In the last ten years of my teaching career, I decided to try my hand at writing again and was selected to write and create educational material for the Ministry of Educaction. I loved it and when it was over, I decided to try my hand at writing fiction. By now we had computers and the Internet. I retired in 2010 and found a website for weekly flash fiction. From that, I decided to try my hand at writing a book. I found a call for romance suspense novels and wrote my first book. I sent it in. It didn’t make the cut. Was I discouraged? Damn right, but then a friend convinced me to submit to a new publisher. I did. They rejected the first manuscript but were willing to look at it again if I revised it. I made the changes they wanted and published Fire Angel in April of 2013.

My original idea for the book came from a series of unexplained and unsolved arson cases in our area. To this day, the police have never charged anyone with the crime that saw farmers lose not only their barns and outbuildings but several heads of catttle.

In my story, I envisioned a pyromaniac with a grudge and two people who’d never quite been a couple in the past, but both with their own baggage. When they meet again, those sparks fly, but there’s someone out there using fire as a weapon and it’s up to them to find him and stop him before someone else dies. I submitted the book, edited it according to instructions, and while the book did well for me, it wasn’t the story I’d wanted it to be. Why? Becauser the published only allowed for two points of view–the hero and the heroine. Added to that, there needed to be more romance than suspense.

Long story short, after several nasty experiences with traditional publishers, I was able to cut my ties and get my rights back. That’s when I decided to only publish my work myself. I found a cover artist and she designed a new cover for the book.

Having written and published several books since 2013, I revised the manuscript of Fire Angel, and made it part of a set with a common theme. This time, as I’d originally intended, I included the Fire Angel’s point of view, giving his reasoning, and allowing the reader a peek inside his deranged mind. I added more suspects, just to make it harder for the reader to identify the villain, a bit more detail to the arsons themselves, and gave the book a far more detailed and satisfying ending. While there was more suspense than romance, I found the story to be so much better than the original one, with a definite psychological component that truly showed how people can be shaped and twisted by their environment. But, when all is said and done, love can overcome any obstacle.

During the month of April, I will be blogging daily to give you more insight into my life as an author. Hope you’ll come along for the journey.

You can check out other bloggers and their themes here: https://tinyurl.com/mv4nhbmj

Welcome to the March IWSG Blog post. February was a rough month for me, but looking forward to better days.

March 6th question: Have you “played” with AI to write those nasty synopses, or do you refuse to go that route? How do you feel about AI’s impact on creative writing?

This is an incredibly touchy subject these days. The only AI that I have played with is Grammarly, and I find it frustrating since it doesn’t understand nuances and meaning. It also occasionally messes with my voice. When that happens, I dismiss the suggestion and don’t use it. Within a few minutes, I’ll quit the program. In fact, there are times when its suggested corrections are just plain wrong. I’m content with Microsoft Editor.

My cover artist now uses AI in her designs, and I’m okay with that, but at this point in time, I have no intention of using AI in my writing. There is too much as yet unknown about AI and creative writing. I’ll reserve judgment until all of the quirks have been worked out.

That’s it. Short and sweet this month.

Find more opinions here.

https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Welcome to March and this week’s Tuesday Tales post. Weather here has been crazy. Can’t wait to see what Mother nature tosses our way next.

This week’s word prompt is KICK. I’m continuing with my Contemporary Paranormal Romanace Suspense, Listen to the Stones. Enjoy.

A loud knocking at the door interrupted Marina’s explanation.

James stood. “Stay here. I’ll see who it is. It’s possible that one of the crofters saw the smoke.”

After a few minutes of lively arguing, James was back with an older woman whose fierce scowl was enough to scare anyone. She carried her umbrella like a weapon, quite prepared to kick James out into the cold and rain along with whoever was with him. Marina stood, ready to defend him if needed. This was her new home, and she had every right to be here.

The woman stopped abruptly, staring at her as if she were looking at a ghost.

“I told you. I’m James MacNish and I work with Ewen MacDonald.” The frustration in his voice was unmistakable. He led the woman over to the sofa. “Lady Fraser arrived early. I picked her up at the airport in Stornoway. See for yourself.”

He stepped aside giving Marina her first good look at her visitor. The woman, not much taller than her, had white hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her many wrinkles testified to the fact that her life hadn’t been an easy one. Her gray eyes were large in her face as she examined her, and heat crept into Marina’s cheeks.

Determined not to be intimidated, she held out her hand.

“Hello, I’m Marina Fraser. There was some confusion about my arrival date, but I’m here now—here to stay,” she added.

The woman covered her mouth with both hands and shook her head. Putting her hands down, she smiled, completely changing her demeanor and curtsied.

“My lady, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here to greet you. Donald will be beside himself, but we were told to expect you tomorrow. He and Brian have gone to Harris to get a new ram for the ewes. The old one has outlived his usefulness. The last crop of lambs was of poor quality and sickly, and he’s hoping a new young stud will improve matters.”

Marina smiled, not sure how to comment on a poorly performing ram.

The woman scowled once more. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“The power’s out,” she explained, confused as to why the woman would even ask. “James found this lantern and lit a fire.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Welcome to the end of February and Tuesday Tales. What can go from -15 C to +15 C in four days? The weather this year! This week will be a tough one for me as we lay my mother to rest. She’ll be reunited with my dad. Eternal rest? Reincarnation? The stuff paranormal romance novels are made of. Will they find one another in a future life? I’d like to think so.

Our word prompt this week is ICY. Is it icy where you are? It certainly isn’t here. The snow from last week is all gone, making things spring-like once more. I’m continuing with my Contemporary Paranormal Romance Suspense, Listen to the Stones. Enjoy.

Some believe that on Samhain, what you call Halloween, the veil that separates the realm of the living from the afterlife is at its thinnest, allowing the souls of the dearly departed and the Cat Sith to cross into this dimension and roam the land once more blessing or cursing people.”

She shivered as an icy draft made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. James was so serious. Just how much of this did he believe?

Marina shrugged. “I’m okay with the blessing, but the cursing? Not so much. How does one get blessed or cursed by Cat Sith?”

James licked his lips, drawing them to Marina’s attention. They were full, rosy, but not unnaturally so. How would they feel pressed against her own?

What’s wrong with me? For years, I’ve been content to lead a solitary life, my bed as virginal as a nun’s, and now I want … damn these hormones.

“It’s actually quite simple,” James answered. “You feed the beast. To be blessed, people need to set out a saucer of milk or cream. Those who do, prosper; those who don’t, risk seeing their cow’s milk dry up among other things.”

Deciding to play along in the hope that her common sense would make a comeback, Marina nodded.

“How will I know if Raven is an incarnation of this Cat Sith?”

He smiled. “The Cat Sith is easy to identify. It’s all black except for a small white spot in the center of its chest … oh, and its eyes glow in the dark.”

Marina laughed. “Now I know you’re teasing me. Since she’s finished her toilette, I can see that she’s black, which is probably why someone put her out in the storm, expecting her to die or be eaten by some predator.”

“There are no animal predators on Lewis, although we do have eagles, but they wouldn’t have been out in that storm.”

She straightened. “Really? No wolves or foxes?”

“Not a one.”

Marina leaned toward the kitten, but since she was now washing her chest, it was hard to see if there was a white spot there.

“As for the eye shine, that’s perfectly natural for all cats. The tapetum lucidum is like a little mirror in the back of the eyes of some nocturnal animals. It helps them see better in the dark and it’s what causes the glowing eyes.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.