Gina G writes

 I give it one star. Out of respect for the author, I am NOT including the title.  I ordered the book online because I liked the title and the blurb, plus I am interested in anything that is against trophy hunting. This one was written as a memorial to the horrible death of Cecil the Lion by a rotten man who lured the lion into a hunting zone, shot him, and left him to die until the following morning. Men like this and even women who get a kick out of killing for "fun" are not good people.  The book "...Hunted..." was a payback to Trophy Hunters. I have already written about the lack of editing that was needed in this book. This is the sad part. IF the author had edited the book ... IF the author had added emotion ... IF the author had added the five senses ... and IF the author had fleshed it out, this would have been a GREAT READ. But it wasn't.  I wanted to shake some sense in the author and tell him to pick up a thesaurus. You can describe the same word in d...

To Edit or Not to Edit Okay, seriously, it's not even a question. Edit. I ordered a book the other day. The title and blurb sounded promising. I liked the subject matter. Amazon did not give me the option to read the first page. If it had, I would not have bought the book. Hindsight. I received the book in the mail and eagerly unwrapped it. The author spent the first four and a half pages telling me about the character. It was all "he did this, he liked this, his wife did this, and his children did this."   Example 1: "Dick turned off the alarm clock and got out of bed. He smelled coffee. His wife Jane was making breakfast. He loved his wife. The breakfast smelled good. His children were laughing. He loved his children. It was sunny outside. He needed to finish packing for his vacation. Maybe after breakfast." Don't tell me, show me. Show the character's life. Example 2: "The alarm clock jarred Dick from his dream. Groggily, with one eye half open, ...

 The Struggle Is Real I have been staring at the same page in my WIP for the past two weeks, erasing everything, rewriting everything, and rewording everything, and it still doesn't feel right. This is the life of a writer. I am in a tight scene—a very emotionally charged scene. It's an IMPORTANT scene that needs to convey a lot of information without sounding like an info dump or a bunch of heads talking.  It's driving me crazy. I may be overthinking it, trying too hard to get it right, and need to write it down, move on, and polish it when the story is finished.  I stare at the words and think ... what is essential? Setting: Kolob Mountain. Fall. Year: 1964. Situation for this chapter: The hunters and their dogs are tracking down a bear that is NOT responsible for the killings. Jack, the park ranger must convince them the bear is not responsible. The men have set out. Jack is following behind with the sheriff. They arrive at a clearing where the men and dogs search for ...

 Tomorrow  by Damien Dibbens Anyone who loves dogs should read this book. Tomorrow is a beautifully crafted story told from the dog's perspective. He has been given eternal life along with his master/owner. Tragedy happens, and the dog spends two hundred years waiting for his master/owner to return.  Love, devotion, friendship, loss, and the journey of self-discovery are intricately interwoven in this narrative, creating a poignant and magical 'tail' of the unbreakable bond between two souls. One of my favorite characters in the book besides Tomorrow is his friend, a rangy dog named Sporco. Not to give the story away, but here is one of my favorite passages concerning their friendship. He recounts their meeting and says, " That dog became my friend. My best friend. And that is why I would follow that dog throughout the realms, to any place on earth. Into a furnace, I would follow him." Just rereading the paragraph makes my heart ache. I give it five stars. ***** T...

 The Joys of Editing You have done your part. You wrote the story. You went back, revised it, rewrote it, and polished it up. It is your new baby, and you are ready to present it to the world. But no ... first you must edit this baby. You MUST edit the story. You may not want to and may go straight to self publish but trust me ... editing is the best thing you can do.  Here are some glaring issues I found in several books. In one, the main character's name changed halfway through the book. On one page, it was Alison; on the next, it was Sarah. Two, the writer used the word "suddenly" every time something surprising was going to happen. (Words ending in "ly" are not the best ones to use. ) a sentence that reads: "Suddenly George stopped," is rather boring compared to "George came to an abrupt stop, holding his hand out to keep me from running into him."  Another one repeated the same word five times in the same paragraph. The time on the clock...

  The American Dream When I was growing up in the eighties, the dream was simple: find a job you are happy with, get married, and buy the dream house. Most people I knew also dreamed of having children, but that one was not on my list. Dogs, yes; cats, yes; children, not so much.  I did want the house, though.  My dream house was a Swiss Chalet style with wood trim back then. It morphed from that into a log house. I wanted rustic splendor with cedar-planked walls, hardwood floors, and large windows overlooking a forested area. I didn't get either one. My first house was a single-wide trailer on five acres of land in Washington State. It cost under $100,000 and was a forty-five-minute drive from work. My second house was a split-level, four-bedroom, two-bathroom house with a nice-sized yard, hot tub, and full-size deck. It was (I believe) 140,000, and it was five minutes from work. (I learned that with pets, you want to be close to home.) My third house...

How It Begin   I knew I wanted to be a story teller when I was a child. See once upon a time there was a library in an old stone building downtown. Stone steps lead to a large doorway where the children's area was. It was like a dungeon, a castle. Inside the walls were gray stone lined with shelves. The shelves were filled with books upon books upon books. Old glass windows--the kind that were rippled--let in light. When it rained the room smelled like water. I discovered dragons, unicorns, dinosaurs, and magic in this room. The feel of the pages, the words, the pictures, all called to me.  My mother encouraged our imaginations by reading out loud to us, drawing pictures and making up stories. She would play the piano and tell us the light higher notes were a fairy princess trapped in a castle trying to get out. The deeper notes were a monster climbing the stairs and searching for her. Hmm ... and she didn't want me telling my siblings scary stories? To keep my sister Ami...