Solitary Spark

A creative writing blog with tips, exercises, suggestions, and information for aspiring writers of fiction and poetry.

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Photo Prompt: Midnight Train

Where is the train coming from or going to? Is this forest a late-night beauty or something hauntingly sinister? Who is on the train and why? Let your mind run wild!

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Writer's Social Media Toolbox

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Inspiration on Brain-cation

Lost in purchased imagery

of foreign sights and sounds 

     expressing

        voicing 

past thoughts silently suppressed.

A flow of words across the eye

of people, places, and emotions. A

     transformation

        transition

moving picture of the mind.

Hands anchor and trade 

with fingers at the ready to 

     flip

        turn

thumb through to new realities.

Thoughts race at contemplation of motive,

an anticipation of twist

     reveal

        shock

perhaps I knew it all along.

Such daily relaxation forever cheap

a brain-cation

     motivation

    incitation

to pick up my own pen and take a leap.

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Poetry: Understanding Rhythm and Meter

Many people have a difficult time understanding and using rhythm and meter in poetry. I was certainly one of them.  For this reason, when I took a seminar in teaching writing for my master's degree, I included activities to tackle them in my lesson plans. If you find yourself needing extra help, or even a refresher, on rhythm and meter, check out the video below.

Do you try to work in rhythm and meter in your poetry? If you usually stick to free verse, give it a try sometime! It really helps to solidify an understanding of the concepts.

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Writing Prompt: Aftermath

In short story or poetry form, write about the aftermath of a life-changing event in your main character's life, including a face-to-face moment with someone who was directly involved, good or bad.

What follows below is the inspiration for this prompt: a short story I wrote 5 years ago.

I woke with a start, heart racing and head pounding. My eyes snapped to a small white fan spinning overhead, immediately halting the rapid beat of my heart. Nausea bubbled in my throat as I tried to remember where I was and how the hell I got there. Not again, Raelyn, I thought as I prepared myself for another awkward morning and quick exit.

As I sat up and scanned the room for clues, my assumption was at least half confirmed. The small, neat room screamed masculine, but somehow my clothes from the night before were still on and there was no trace of indiscretion on my part. My purse even sat neatly on the end table alongside a glass of water and two small brown pills. Although the gesture was nice, I’d learned that I was far less likely to have a repeat of recklessness if I made myself suffer through the hangover.

After I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, I stilled to listen for signs of life outside the door and let my head stop spinning. Silence filled me with relief. Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly slipped on my shoes, grabbed my purse, and made my way to the bedroom door. The cold knob turned slowly and quietly in my hand as I peeked into the next room. Not seeing anyone, I moved toward the front door. Just as I reached for the knob, a loud snore vibrated my eardrums.

I spun toward the sound and held my breath. Lying on the couch was a mop of messy brown hair attached to a lean torso. The body began to stir and I stood in silence, hoping that it would not turn to face me. To my relief, the man stilled and began to snore again. I waited with hand on knob until the next snore peaked, then quickly opened the door and slipped outside. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed that my apartment complex was right next door; all I could do was hope that the guy remembered as little of me as I did of him.

Glancing at my watch, I realized I had only a half hour until I had to be at work, meaning I had only fifteen minutes to get ready if I was going to make it on time. The strange morning’s adrenaline boost worked to my advantage because I was ready in ten and made my normal fifteen minute walk to work with plenty of time to spare.

Walking in the door of Willow Street Books always calmed me. There was something about the quiet atmosphere and smell of books that drew me in, but that’s not surprising. I’d spent my childhood reading anything I could get my hands on. As I got older, I realized that I could temporarily escape the real world through my favorite books. When I moved to the city six months ago, I was thrilled to find a bookstore so close to my apartment. Since I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t have a car, I spent most of my free time there wandering the rows of novels, flipping through the pages, and enjoying the adventure of finding the perfect book.

After two weeks of seeing me almost every day, the owner, Julia, offered me a job. Apparently she had been looking for someone to help her around the store and open or close on days she couldn’t. I didn’t need the job—my parents left behind enough money for me to live off of for years—but I needed the distraction. Julia gave me much more than a job though; she gave me friendship and family.

“Good morning,” Julia smiled from behind the register, holding out a steaming cup of coffee that I gratefully snatched from her hands.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, savoring the smell as I rounded the counter to set my bag down.

“Rough night?” she asked, reaching out to cover my hand with her own as I sat on the stool beside her.

“Could have been worse.” Julia simply nodded, understanding she would not get more out of me today.

Since I started working with her, Julia had been the mother I wish I’d had. Her warm disposition and understanding nature won me over immediately. I’d been here a week when I found myself pouring my heart out to her. She knew my fears. She knew my secrets. She was the only one here who knew anything about my past. Despite everything I said or did, Julia was there when I needed her. She was more than my boss, which was why she deserved a better explanation. Sighing, I turned toward her and took a deep breath.

“I don’t remember much since I left here last night,” I began, shifting my eyes to my hands. “On the way home I stopped at the bar next to my apartment to have a drink. It was a bad night, you know? Like I told you yesterday, the nightmares kept me up the night before. I hoped that a drink or two would help me sleep through the night once I got home.”

Julia nodded in understanding, squeezing my hand to urge me on.

“The next thing I know, I am waking up in a strange man’s apartment.” I waited for a reaction but only saw sympathy in her warm brown eyes. I guess she was used to this story by now. “I was clothed, thank god. He left water and tylenol for me. When I left, he was asleep on the couch.”

“Sounds like he was looking out for you, sweetie,” Julia responded with a smile. “It’s not too often that you come across such gentlemen.”

I gave her a small smile and rounded the counter to busy myself with my morning routine. “I’d been doing so well lately though,” I said, turning away to straighten a stack of books as my eyes began to water. “What did I do to make him think he needed to take care of me? Even though my back was hurting I made sure I hadn’t taken anything before I drank last night. I knew something like this would happen if I did, but I can’t remember anything anyway! What’s the point?”

A set of hands quickly turned me around and grasped my shoulders. Staring me hard in the eyes, I started to sob as Julia held my face.

“You look at me, Raelyn Matthews. Do not let this one night ruin all of the progress you’ve made. When I found you, you were a broken, lost young woman. I didn’t know if I could help you, but I sure as hell was going to try. You have come so far. I am not going to let you go back down that path. I refuse it. You are a good, strong woman. We all heal in our own way and in our own time. Do not forget that.”

Holding on for dear life, I let all my frustration out as I sobbed into Julia’s shoulder. I wished in that moment that my mother was with me, yet I knew our interaction would be far from the same. The thought sobered me. My voice was soft as I thanked Julia, then slowly pulled away to get myself together.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Julia avoided mention of my earlier breakdown, choosing to move on as if nothing had occurred. I couldn’t have been more grateful. We worked all day to clean the bookcases, restock the stacks, and rearrange the displays at the front. Our stream of customers was slow yet steady, but that would soon change as the holidays arrived. The thought of the first Christmas without my parents brought a lump to my throat that I quickly swallowed; another break down at work today would be unacceptable, although I knew Julia would understand.

At the end of my shift I headed straight home. The emotion of the day weighed heavily on me. My mind wouldn’t stop racing and I could feel my anxiety rising as time passed. By the time I stepped into my apartment, my hands were shaking and my chest ached with pressure. The sound of my keys hitting the table made my heart skip. Each step I took down the hallway seemed long and slow. When I entered the bathroom, my shaking hands could barely open the pill bottle. Even though I knew it was not an instant fix, when the medicine touched my tongue I could feel my body relax. All I wanted to do was sleep it all away.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.

***

The next morning I woke to the sun streaming through my windows. Despite sleeping for twelve hours, my body was exhausted. Normally on my days off I choose to make breakfast and sit around the house until the afternoon, but since it was early I decided to walk up the street to the coffee shop.

After getting my coffee and bagel, I walked across the street to the park and settled under a large shade tree. The weather was just cool enough to need a jacket and with a cup of coffee the temperature felt just right. I leaned against the trunk of the tree, eating and sipping my drink until I was full. I then pulled out the real reason I decided to visit the park.

It was a perfect day to sit in the shade and read. As the sun rose in the sky, I lost myself in a fictional world. Time stood still for me as the day wore on, which wasn’t unusual for on my days off. I left behind the stress of the day before. I escaped the constant torrent of thoughts that normally assaulted me. I didn’t have to be me in those moments, and it was sobering to know that’s what I loved most.

It wasn’t until my stomach growled that I realized the sun was beginning to set and the temperature was turning cold. I grabbed my things and stopped by the grocery store on the way home. As usual I struggled to carry my bags the five blocks to my apartment, but I had no other options. By the time I reached my street, my tired arms threatened to give out. I adjusted my hold as I rounded the last corner and the next thing I knew I was on the sidewalk.

The reason my dinner was scattered across the ground stood above me gaping. His tangled brown hair looked uncomfortably familiar, but his face I couldn’t place. Snapping his mouth shut, the man quickly reached his hand out towards me.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, running his other hand through his dark hair. “I didn’t see you coming around the corner.”

I smiled tightly, placing my hand in his and allowing him to help me up. “It’s okay,” I said as I bent down to collect my things and straighten my clothes. I sighed as I noticed my spaghetti sauce staining the concrete. “I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

When I didn’t receive an answer, I glanced up at the man to see him gazing at me curiously. He shook himself from his thoughts as my eyes caught his and began rambling.

“I’m sorry. I’d be happy to buy you dinner. Or spaghetti sauce. Or just give you the money for the sauce. I didn’t mean to ruin your night. I’m Jackson, by the way.”

I held my hand up to stop him. “Don’t worry about it,” I answered, waving him off as I picked up my bags and stepped around him. I had a gut feeling this was the man whose apartment I was in and I sure as hell did not want a reunion. “Have a good night.”

I began to walk home but halted when I felt his hand gently grip my upper arm.

“Raelyn.”

Pushing his hand off me, I spun toward him and took a step back. My gaze hardened as I met his concerned green eyes.

“It’s as simple as this. I don’t remember anything from the other night and I’d like to keep it that way.”

The man simply stared back at me as I eyed him seriously. Taking that as a sign of acceptance, I turned to continue on my way.

“Raelyn,” he spoke softly once again.

His reluctance to leave me alone lit a fire inside me. My fists clenched as I slowly turned to face him again. All interest in being nice evaporated the instant I saw him looking at me as if he expected I would relent.

“I don’t know you and you sure as hell don’t know me,” I spat.

“But I do,” he stated simply. “At least, I know more than you think.”

My mind raced as I tried to remember anything from that night at the bar. In my drunken state there was no telling what I told him. I eyed him suspiciously. What the hell is he getting at?

“Look, I was drunk. You don’t know if anything I said was true or if it was just drunken rambling. Don’t expect us to be great friends just because I slurred a few heartfelt words to you.”

I turned quickly and started off, dismissing him and signaling an end to the conversation.

“Wait!” I heart him yell. I heard his footsteps getting closer as I sped my own pace. As I reached the stairs to my complex, his steps stilled.

“I found them.” Just as a sarcastic reply was about to leave my mouth, he spoke his next words.

“I found you, Raelyn. Eight months ago. I saw the car as…” His voice trailed off as I was lost one of the many nightmares I relived every night.

I woke as squealing tires, crashing metal, and three separate screams filled my ears. My body was thrown around like a rag doll as our SUV began flipping. I could hear my own screams drowning out those of my mom and dad until at some point I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes next, I saw someone leaning over me. I could feel the cold, wet grass beneath my body in stark contrast to the pain and fire that lit various parts of my body. I tried to move, but the pain caused me to cry out. The man with me spoke softly, urging me to stay still. As the world around me blurred, I reached for his face and felt myself smile softly.

“You saved me,” I whimpered as I felt his warm hand cover mine. His words became less clear as he replied, but I felt comforted knowing I wasn’t alone.

Before I lost consciousness for the final time, I saw his face clearly before mine for the first time.

“It was you,” I murmured. He simply nodded and smiled softly while I stared quietly at him.

“You saved me,” I stated. Again, he nodded and let me process the information before speaking.

“When I found out that you had not one left, I couldn’t get the way you looked at me that night out of my head. I came to see you at the hospital whenever I could when you were in ICU. I spoke to you while they had you in a coma because I wanted you to know that despite everything you were not alone. Then they moved you I couldn’t find you or get any information since I wasn’t family—or even a friend. When I saw you in that bar the other night..”

I cut him off. “Why didn’t you just let me die?”

The question seemed to shock him. He stood there staring at me wide eyed. “I couldn’t just let..”

“Yes, you could!” I screamed as I lunged for him.

“You should have let me die!” I began sobbing over and over again as I beat him with my fists. He allowed me to let my rage out until I didn’t have the energy to move.

As I sank down onto the concrete, Jackson held me against him. My fists ached. My eyes hurt. My throat was dry. I felt completely numb.

I barely remember him picking me up. I don’t know how he figured out my apartment number. The only thing I remember clearly after my breakdown was his face looking down at me as I drifted off in my bed.

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Writing Prompt: Time Travel

Write a short scene or poem where your characters travel back in time to their hometown 50+ years prior. Describe what it looks like. Give it a purpose. There are no other rules!

“You won't believe it!” Kim waved at me excitedly.

Wading through the mounds of moth-eaten clothes, books, and boxes, I found my sister cross-legged with eyes glued to a pile on the floor. A huge smile graced her face as she patted the only empty spot in the room.

“You know we only have a few hours to finish this mess,” I teased, sliding to the ground. “Dad and Uncle Jim are over halfway through with the other rooms.”

“Please! We got the junk room! Besides, this is where all the good stuff is. Did you see the photos of grandad? I've never seen half of them.”

“Nan kept always him near, but I think it hurt too much to speak of him even after all those years,” I spoke honestly as Kim nodded in agreement.

Pointing at the collection of neatly folded papers, Kim grinned and handed me the first. The sheet felt fragile in between my fingers as I gently unveiled the beautiful curves of Nan's script. A sweet floral scent drifted toward my face—the perfume Nan wore for the entirety of my memory. My heart caught in my throat as I read the first word.

Henry,

I'm counting down the days until you return to me. Mother and I are almost done planning. We finished sewing my dress last week and Reverend Smith is free the day after you return home. Your mother is even helping me learn to cook your favorite meals. Our time apart has really helped me get to know your family and although I'd rather have you with me, I am thankful that I have a part of you here with me in them. I am also so very thankful that Uncle Thomas gave you work even if it was away from me.

I've told you how shocked we were when the post office burned to the ground, but you will be even more shocked when you see Main Street. You remember the tree in the middle of the road by the smokehouse? Now when you drive toward Sandy's store, the road runs straight. They cut it down! They put the road right over it after some young men crashed into it and died. I guess it was only a matter of time before something like that happened.

So much has changed. When you turn onto Main Street from the house, you see beautiful pink and white crape myrtles lining the road as far as the eye can see. A few street lamps dot the street here and there now. A couple of houses are sprouting up near our turn and they've built a line of storefronts a mile down, near Phil's Crossroad and across from Sandy's store. It's still fields and trees beyond that, but Mayor Bright says “by sprucing up Main Street we will draw all sorts of good things to town”. We're hoping we get the new mill instead of Prattville. Maybe then you could work there instead of with Uncle Thomas and we won't have to move.

Write soon. I'll be waiting to hear from you and maybe father will bring me to visit before you come home.

Yours,

Lizzie

“Wow,” I breathed.

“I know, right?” Kim wiggled in her seat and eagerly handed me the next letter. Shaking my head, I smiled softly and turned toward the door.

“Dad! Uncle Jim! Come quick!”

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Dialogue: How to Hear Voices in Your Head

One of the hardest parts of writing is getting the dialogue right. You ask yourself question after question, debating line after line:

Does that sound natural?

Would she really say that?

This is the stiffest argument I've ever read.

Oh. My. Goodness. Why did ever I think that sounded right?

Pffttt. Who is he? Homer? No one would phrase it like that in 2016!

I've found that many times I just cannot connect with the dialogue in some books that I read, leading me to reflect on my own dialogue style. It seems that sometimes when trying to make something sound realistic, it's easy to try too hard. So how do we fix that? How do you make dialogue a strength?

One of the more interesting resources I came across was Nadia Kalman's TED-Ed original titled "Three Antisocial Skills to Improve Your Writing." Check out the short video below and find out how eavesdropping, imagination, and muttering to yourself may help to improve your dialogue skills. As Kalman puts it, it shows "how to hear voices in your head" and improve your writing.

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We're Moving!

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11 Reasons Writing Is the Worst, But Nothing Else Is Better

Some days there's nothing good about writing. Everything you type stinks...if you even get that far. Other days, everything flows right out, racing like a storm-ravaged stream onto the page. Next time you're having a day full of "writer's block," self-doubt, and extreme self-criticism, remember that you're not alone and take a moment for a laugh or two before taking a deep breath and diving back in. Because the only way to fix it is to write, right? 1. You're completely fickle about what you write...

2. ...but that's when you actually write...

3. ...and stop getting distracted by online "inspiration." Or Facebook.

4. Of course, you spend a lot of time doing legitimate research and are full of a ton of random information. It's always great to drop a "fact" bomb later when all that research becomes relevant to real life...

5. ...but then you worry that you're on a government list somewhere since you just researched things that could be considered dangerous in the hands of the wrong people, such as your characters.

6. You have to keep a notebook, or your phone, on your nightstand because the perfect character, dialogue, or plot twist always strikes in bed.

7. Of course, when it's time to write it later, your mind goes blank; you should have got up to write right instead of sleeping. 

8. That moment when everything you planned goes out the window and your characters take you in a direction you never expected.

9. When you have to make the hard decisions to stay real and keep your readers on their toes.

10. You love to start a new book, you but find yourself very critical of the character development, dialogue, and plot in everything you read. 

11. Depending on the day, it's both the hardest and the easiest thing you do!

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Writer's Toolbox: Nimbus Note

One of the most frustrating things for me while researching for my novel has been keeping up with all of the information I need. I've had tons of Word documents. I've used a notebook full of notes. I have tons of websites saved and some emails sent to myself. When I want to save something for later, I don't want to take the time to write it all down or copy and paste a ton of things into a Word document that I then need to format and rearrange. I want to save it quickly and move on. But how do you do that in an organized fashion without purchasing writing software? It's been rather hard finding something that really works for me when I'm tossing around ideas, building up the best and eliminating the worst. That is, until I found Nimbus this week!

Nimbus Note is an excellent note taking application that you can access from your web browser; download on your PC, Android, iPad, iPhone, or Windows Phone; or add as an extension in Google Chrome. Any note you save is easily synced to your account, allowing you to access information from all of your devices. There are numerous features that help to organize your writing research:

Basic text editing tools, including adding links and photos

Tags for quick search and better organization

Share your notes with password protection

Source links saved automatically

To-Do tasks for future reminders

Add attachments to your notes

Print notes

The most useful tool for me is the Chrome extension. While researching this week, I simply was able to highlight the information I needed, whether it was a full article, a photo, or a paragraph or two, and with a quick right click, I sent exactly what I needed to my notes. 

The only thing I had to go in and change was the titles for organization; every bit of information was saved for future reference, and I was able to tag my notes for quick searching. It made collecting my research information quicker and so much easier! Keep in mind that the Chrome extension does not have as many features as the full Nimbus app; however, for me, this doesn't matter. It takes a second to head to the Nimbus website if for some reason I need more than the basic text formatting, copy and pasting, and link insertion features, which is rare.

If you're looking for an easy way to organize research material, or even just notes and ideas, definitely check out Nimbus. It has just the number of features you need, and if you're like me, nothing's better than being able to access your notes anywhere, anytime inspiration strikes.

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Photo Prompt: Old Letters, Memories in Time

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Thank You, Harper Lee

Whether or not To Kill a Mockingbird ranks on your list of favorite novels, there's no denying the impact Harper Lee's popular, and many times controversial, book left on readers young and old. I remember gulping it down as a young student, excited to write my report and explain my take on Boo Radley and Tom Robinson's trial. (Yes, I was one of those students. That never changed.) The reality of the themes of racial injustice and loss of innocence didn't hit me so hard then because I, too, was still innocent in many ways, having read it in 6th grade, but the impact was still strong on my developing mind. Perhaps that's why PBS calls it one of the "most challenged and banned classical books," a statement that is not surprising, but I wish it were.

Credit: Kristin via CC

Looking back on it now, though I guess I can understand the (misplaced, in my opinion) sensitivity regarding the content and language, I can't imagine why someone would desire to ban a book that to myself, and I'm sure so many others, helped solidify a love for literature and really helped me begin to open my eyes to the reality of the world. I remember the sadness and outrage I felt at Tom's fate and the sympathy I felt for Boo. I remember loving Scout's independence and admiring Mrs. Dubose's strength before she died. When I said previously that the theme of racial injustice didn't hit me then, it's only a statement that I didn't so much realize that it was still relevant at the time of my reading it, and of course still is; there was never any doubt of the horror of Tom's plight, all because of the color of his skin. I also didn't comprehend the real implications of a rape allegation at that age; it was very wrong, of course, but it was hard to imagine what that really meant pre-puberty. Does that mean I didn't get anything of value from reading it then? Absolutely not. As Ilan Mochari wrote yesterday, it was a masterful lesson in empathy.

Scout's loss of innocence more than just that of her own; young readers lose some of theirs, too, as they learn the same lessons throughout the novel. As many books as I read growing up, and I always had a book in my hand, this is one that has always left a mark. Frankenstein, Of Mice and Men, A Raisin in the Sun, and Night are just some of the many works I loved in school, but the memory of To Kill a Mockingbird is the clearest because it was the first to deeply influence me. It was the first book I remember that really pushed me to think outside of the literary bubble and apply its lessons and themes to the world around me, even if the depth of that had to grow as I aged. Readers within a reasonable age range should get to go on that same journey with Scout, and hopefully one day this will no longer be in question.

Today, I value To Kill a Mockingbird even more than back then with my understanding all of the underlying themes and truths, from race and class to gender roles and injustice. There's a reason this is a classic and controversial, but isn't that the norm with all the best works? Those controversial elements are what make it the powerful piece it is and cement it in the minds and hearts of readers of all ages. With the news of Harper Lee's passing, there's no doubt that it will once again get much attention and that many readers, such as myself, will pick it up once again to revisit Scout's coming of age story, remembering the role Lee's novel played in their own journey to adulthood. 

So, thank you, Harper Lee, for your enduring contribution to American literature and the powerful influence your work had on readers young and old, on people like me.

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5 Writing Tips to Beat the Hectic Holiday Season

'Tis the season! It's that time of year for decorating, shopping, attending holiday parties, and all-around preparing for those precious 24-hours at the end of December. The holidays get everyone in a tizzy! However, while it brings us together, it also tends to eat up much of our free time. As a writer, it's easy to let the holidays sidetrack you and put a quick halt to writing. Perhaps you'll use this time for a welcome break, but if you want to stay on track, try these five simple tips to avoid holiday-induced diversion.

While you're waiting on those holiday cookies or treats to bake, take a few moments to write. Make every spare moment count.

Waiting on family or friends while they shop? Bring along a journal or break out that phone! Grab a cup of coffee and write while they get things done.

Don't take on too much! Decorate, attend some parties, and do some shopping online to save time, but keep your holiday fever in check. People often don't take the time to really enjoy the holiday season because they're so busy. Apply this to writing, too! Take time for you this season.

Choose a special time daily, before bed or early in the morning, to sit down and write. Use an alarm to remind you if needed.

Set a weekly goal. Even if the holidays may distract you from writing every day, having a weekly goal will let you catch up and stay on track.

Happy Holiday Writing!

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Writing Software: StoryMill

When I was researching scientific information for my novel, I found that my typical journal technique simply became a mess as I scratched out ideas that won't work and kept jotting ideas around the margins. I like neat notes and I like physically writing my ideas, but writing them quickly became a bigger mess than ever before. That's what happens when you write a complicated, detail-necessary work! How do I get organized? How do I make it easy to find my ideas without a ton of Word files in my research folder? I'm still trying to find a good solution that works for me, and during this process, I've come across quite a few writing tools that sound interesting. The first one on the list: StoryMill.

StoryMill is one of a few software packages by Mariner Software that work to help writers. While StoryMill is dedicated to various aspects of overall novel writing, Persona (character management) and Contour (story outline) are two other options that focus on specific areas of novel development. I'll be honest: Contour is not something I'll try because I am not the type of writer who outlines in any detail whatsoever. I have a general idea, pit stops along the way, and an endgame; however, my characters direct me better than any outline I've ever done. In other words, you won't see a review of it here because it won't be unbiased. With that being said, Persona is on my list because it has what I wished StoryMill did for characters: detail, detail, detail!

Character Screen

This is one of my problems with StoryMill. The most you have under the info block is what you see above: role, height, hair, race, weight, and eyes. You can add photos, tags, links, and blah blah blah, but the majority of your information is going to be typed in a blank word-like document. It's not very organized other than being under the name of the character. This is why I'll be testing out Persona for my characters; however, if I'm going to drop money on software ($40 a pop!), I don't want to have to buy something else I would think should be included. It does have some simple planning features that make Contour unnecessary for many writers. The main screen for "Scenes" gives you a list of your scenes and the ability to pull up a timeline of your novel's scenes:

Scene Main Screen

In each scene's page, you can write the scene, make notes, add photos, select the chapter, choose the characters in the scene, pick the location, and choose the date and time it starts and ends.

Individual Scenes

When going back and adding the information for my novel, the most helpful parts for me were the chapter, date, and time. I was able to get a timeline going and really think about the amount of time that was passing in each scene and how plausible certain things were in the scheme of that time frame. On the other hand, the timeline feature is only so helpful. Rather than stacking scenes chronologically for each date, everything falls in a line to scroll horizontally no matter how short of a time frame you select.

Timeline

Notice above that the first time shows "The Ex....Dealing". This is because there are multiple scenes in that time period. It would be much more helpful if it was more of a calendar format where each day's scenes stacked in a straight line and then you could scroll right for the following days.

Locations

The locations option is helpful but still basic. You can add pictures, take notes, create tags, save links for files or websites, and see which scenes are related to the location. This is helpful for keeping together information for each location, but there's nothing special about it. The research tabs are similar. The only difference is that the "scenes" tab is missing. You can also create a list of tasks that you want to complete and use tags for them. There are a lot of small features having to do with formatting, exporting, etc., but they are what you would expect from writing software. A few mop-up features of interest:

Word Frequency - See how many times you use certain words in each chapter or the novel overall.

Progress Meter - Set a word count goal and you'll see a meter at the top of the screen that shows your progress to the selected goal. It can be progress for the current session or the whole novel's completion.

Highlight Cliches - Find possible cliches in your writing.

Snapshot - Take a snapshot of your work before you make big edits or changes.

Overall, I give it 3 out of 5 stars. It's got a lot of basic features that help with organization and bring it up a notch from a normal text editor. Instead of having multiple files based on research topics, novel text, and outline notes, you have a neat list of scenes, chapters, characters, and research topics. There are many areas I'd like to see improvement, such as the character details and timeline organization; however, this is a decent starter software if you just need something to organize your work. StoryMill is available for download on Mac or PC. Test it out for 30 opens with the demo, and if you like it, you can buy it for $39.95. Upcoming Reviews: Persona, Scrivener via Blogger http://ift.tt/1LhzmYs

[solitaryspark]

Book Review: Blackout (Breakers 8) by Edward W. Robertson

  A new ship hovers over the water, eyeing the Dunemarket and spreading an ominous electric charge throughout the city. Raina's tasked with preparing her people for a new war. Sebastian gives Ness a look "like he'd just stumbled into a mass grave." Lowell decides to flee with Randy. Walt steps out one last time to take down the second ship. In a world where people are scattered about and many aren't beholden to anything but their closest friends or family, even the most reluctant step up for a final stand against the Swimmers. Live or die, they're determined to show the Swimmers that they messed with the wrong planet.

The final installment of the Breakers series, Blackout brings together all of the familiar characters on the west coast in an effort to destroy the Swimmers once and for all. While they're all working toward the same goal under Raina's command, nothing is easy or goes according to plan, of course, and it throws the characters in different directions that requires them to take risks and go into the heart of danger. The novel wouldn't be complete without a fight aboard the new ship, Walt going rogue, or Raina coming two seconds from death. The final Breakers book gives readers everything they want and more, doing every character justice with an edge-of-your-seat pace we expect from Robertson's work.

One of the most interesting parts of the novel is the character development, especially with Raina. While Walt is Walt and Ness continues to run into danger while crapping his pants, Raina shows more range of emotion in Blackout than in any of the other novels. Where readers know the hard-nosed, odd-ball does what it takes to keep her people safe, you see the stress of the war begin to crack her hard exterior, and it only makes you root harder for her to succeed. Nothing's simple with our little firecracker though. Her worry, her pain, and her sorrow all simply fuel the fire behind her eyes. By the end of the book, Raina appears to be the fully rounded leader she should be to keep the Dunemarket safe and oversee her people during peaceful times. She lets that hard shell show wear while keeping a level head, proving once again why she is so respected by her people and why Mauser is right to attempt to keep her as safe as possible.

As action packed as Blackout is, it's easy to imagine that readers might have a hard time following the movement and layout of a rapidly changing fight. There were a couple of times, particularly when Raina's troops infiltrate alien walls, that some of the scale was hard to imagine. When there are so many walls, sometimes it's hard to envision who's doing what at this wall or that wall or simply referring to so many walls makes the reader pause to try to break down the scene visually. Overall, however, Robertson does a masterful job of keeping confrontations clear and moving at a quick pace. After all, it's our main characters that we're really worrying about and that means that sometimes their surroundings are less important than the fact that Swimmers are shooting at their heads, alien tanks are rolling forward, or fighter jets are lighting their path on fire. The action shines throughout the novel, and no big battle disappoints.

If you've never read Edward W. Robertson's Breakers series, you're missing out. Blackout is the final of 8 books that take readers around the world fighting Swimmers and each other. The series taps into the threat of outside invasion and the threat of humans with power. It makes readers think about how they would adapt to a world that must rebuild and wonder if they could be as brutal as necessary to survive. It takes you through heartache and loss as well as thrill and triumph. It's a truly wild ride, and in the end, Blackout brings it all together in a conclusion that would actually be satisfying if only readers weren't still begging for more.

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[solitaryspark]

Photo Prompt: Weathered Barn

"Weathered Barn" by Rodney Campbell via CC 2.0

Try this as a setting for your next poem or short story. How does it inspire you? 

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[solitaryspark]

Lesser Known Literary Terms: Polyptoton

Can you think of other famous examples?

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