I was reading a friend's blog http://leftbrainwrite.blogspot.com/ and saw Linda had meme-ed me. Or she said she had. I don't know where I find the meme. LOL. I will list my five writing strengths. That's what I think I'm supposed to do.
1. I'm willing to start over, and over and over until I get it right.
2. I'm honest when I critique other people's writing and it excites me and I love letting them know when they've done something magical. I'm humble enough to learn from their brilliance.
3. I'm very creative, a real right brainer. A painter before I became a writer, I live in my imagination a good part of each day. It helps me create the world my characters live in. I actually see them, the town, hear them talk, etc.
4. I'm not afraid to fail. Enough said.
5. I'm willing to take criticism for what it is-an opportunity to make my writing the best it can be.
OK, now I'm supposed to meme two people, but I don't know how. Anyone reading this that knows how to do so, please let me know. :)
Writer's thoughts from her farm about life with horses, dogs, and living in the world of Mother Nature
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
A Tiny bit of Painted Black
OK, I've decided to start posting a paragraph from the mystery novel I'm working on once a week. The book is titled Painted Black. Only one paragraph, taken out of context will be posted. Just some samples of my writing. Let me know what you think. Thanks, Deborah
Ok, here goes. This paragraph is from Chapter Two
“I don’t suppose you know who I am?” He drew in his already concave stomach and hitched a thumb in the black studded belt he wore. “I’m in charge around here. Got that baby ready for you.” He nodded toward the jeep. Brown juice oozed from between his teeth when he smiled. His breath had the sour smell of whiskey, and his eyes became silver slits, sharp as knives. “Name’s Peter Lynch.” He cocked his hips. “Big Peter most women call me once they get to know me.” His weak chin rose. “Want anything you come to me. I make the decisions.”
Ok, here goes. This paragraph is from Chapter Two
“I don’t suppose you know who I am?” He drew in his already concave stomach and hitched a thumb in the black studded belt he wore. “I’m in charge around here. Got that baby ready for you.” He nodded toward the jeep. Brown juice oozed from between his teeth when he smiled. His breath had the sour smell of whiskey, and his eyes became silver slits, sharp as knives. “Name’s Peter Lynch.” He cocked his hips. “Big Peter most women call me once they get to know me.” His weak chin rose. “Want anything you come to me. I make the decisions.”
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