Blog Me MAYbe

Sooooooo, yeah. Blogging motivation?

What the heck is that?

As in . . . this is my *pauses to count* . . . yep, TWELFTH post of the year. It's the middle of April. I mean, seriously? And I've pretty much been talking a big game about getting back into blogging since January. Again, it's April.

*crickets chirping*

source

Office Space FOR THE WIN!!

But that caption's wrong, I DO care. I used to love blogging--it's how I met most of my favorite writing friends and all of you wonderful people. So finally, I'm doing something about it. I'm getting back on track--and if you've been having trouble finding blogging motivation, I invite you to join me (and Katy, Cambria, Jessica, Tracey, Alexandra, Lola, and Alison) in two weeks for Blog Me MAYbe.

Here's the deal:

Banner created by the über-talented Tracey Neithercott!
Feel free to snag it for your own blog, if you want! (Or the button below!)

The purpose: To get back in the habit of blogging by following a weekly schedule for the month of May. (Or if you already post regularly, to have an easy schedule to follow without having to struggle with deciding what to blog about.)

(And if posting every day sounds like too much, or if you miss a few days, or only do a couple posts a week, who cares, yanno?)

What you DON'T have to do: Follow every blog that participates and comment on everyone's posts every day. This isn't a blogfest to gain followers--although maybe that will happen. And of course if you WANT to comment on everyone's posts, feel free. :) 

But really the point of this is to focus mostly on our own blogs and to write posts about things we're interested in that our followers will want to read about. 

The schedule: 

Mondays: May I tell you something about writing?
This can be anything writing-related. A post on craft. A post on your process. A snippet of your WIP, if you like to share. A book on craft that you want to recommend. Things you struggle with. Things you rock at. ANYTHING at all! 

Tuesdays: May I tell you something about myself?
Pretty self-explanatory :) Share something about yourself that your followers might not know. Or maybe they do. It doesn't matter--this is just so people who read your blog can get to know you a little better. 

Wednesdays: May I ask something about you?
Ask your followers something about themselves. 

Thursdays: May I tell you something about someone else?
Make this post about someone else. A writing friend. A critique partner. A person from history who's fascinating. A character from a book. Anyone you want. :) Have a guest poster. Give an interview. Get creative! Just let the spotlight shine on someone else. 

Fridays: May I share something funny?
Fridays = the starts of weekends! BOOYA. Reason to celebrate and laugh on it's own--plus, who doesn't want to see something amusing after a long week?

Two quick side notes: 

1) I don't think I'm going to title my posts "May I tell you something about . . . " I'll just title them whatever fits with what I've written, while following that schedule. And, 

2) I'm definitely not planning to blog every single day after May. No way, dude. I want to get back on that two or three times a week rotation. This is just the jumpstart! 

And while you don't have to follow every blog or comment or anything, in case you're interested in who's participating--or want to let the blogosphere know that you're going to participate, you can sign up below.

Blogs participating in Blog Me MAYbe:

I think that's all. Enjoy the rest of April--I'll see you in May!

PS I prescheduled this post, so if for some reason the link sign up isn't working, check back later--I'll fix it after I've woken up for the day.

Button also created by Tracey Neithercott! 

I Cheated

Writing a PG love scene is IMPOSSIBLE.

Seriously. When I think PG, I think Lilo and Stitch. And you KNOW Lilo's not fishing for trouser trout when she's out with Stitch. Why? Because PG sex scenes do. not. exist.

And yet, somehow, Simon was kind of cajoled into hosting this PG Love Scene Blogfest. And then, in turn, he forced me to participate... Yep, he stuck a gun against my ear until I signed up. I should have just told him to go ahead and shoot me.

So, yes, I cheated. My scene is definitely not PG. I couldn't do it. I went with PG-13 instead. I did stick with the rules otherwise though. (kind of)

The rules were:

• A short love scene between two characters (yes, two, ‘cause if it’s a threesome or better, it sure as hell ain’t PG!)
• The reader needs to understand that the act of love is occurring, but the language must remain MG/PG.
• You may not fade to black because that would be cheating. 

Um, so here's my entry:

When his fingers graze my shin, I know it’s starting. I push up onto my elbows and smile at him, so he understands I’m okay with it. It was my idea, after all. My idea for the picnic. My idea for the secluded spot at the foot of the hill. And my idea to mix vodka into a half empty 20-ounce Sprite bottle—just to see what would happen.

As if we didn’t already know.

His hand works its way up past my knee and I find I can’t meet his eyes anymore, so I lay back on the blanket to stare at the sky. A few puffs of grayish white speckle an otherwise pale blue. And far in the distance are darker storm clouds, but they won’t reach us for a while. It’s not perfect, but it’s close enough.

I can’t quite figure out what to do with my hands, so for now they go behind my head. He’s scooting closer, at the same slow speed as his hand traveling along my leg. I want to look at him, but my eyes refuse to move in his direction. He reaches my thigh and the pressure is just a little too much. I giggle. I can’t help it—I’m ticklish. He laughs too.

I know he’s looking at me. I can feel his gaze on my face. A moment passes, and then another. I watch a cloud wander by overhead. I feel the change in pressure a second before he starts to pull his hand away, so I catch it with mine and slide it closer to the hemline of my skirt. I leave my hand on top of his, for a second, enjoying the warmth. It seems to match the liquid heat working its way down my stomach.

The wind picks up a bit and the trees begin to sway. I watch the branches dance and wonder if they’re really moving in perfect rhythm or if the vodka’s helped the tango tempo playing in my mind.

And then he’s kissing me and my hand weaves into his hair. His kiss is messy, but not sloppy; relief mingles with regret when his fingers work their way over my skirt instead of under it. But then his hand grazes my hip and rests at my side, his thumb stroking my stomach through my shirt. And next my ribs. He rolls his fingers across each one, like a piano. I wait for the laughter to choke my throat—but it never comes. Why doesn’t this tickle? The thought disappears as soon as it flits through my mind, though, because he begins to trace lazy figure eights around my collarbone. I suddenly can’t remember out how to swallow. When I do, it sounds like someone stepping in mud—so loud—and now mortification mixes with…whatever else this is I feel. Need?

A shift in weight and he’s laying beside me, sliding his hand back down the way it came. When his lips travel to my throat, my eyes open, for a brief moment, in shock at the electricity bouncing across my skin. I notice, distractedly, that the storm clouds are closer now, faster than I thought they’d be. But when his fingers slide under my shirt, when he smoothes his hand along my skin, everything hazes into a bright white and I stop seeing anything at all.

I realize, at some point, that I’m moving. With eyes still closed, it’s almost like floating in the ocean. Waves rolling under my back, lifting my hips and washing over my toes.

And he rides the same current—shares each crest. When the first fat drops of water splash from the sky—we’re too busy floating together to notice.

But after, when I lean my head back against his shoulder, I open my mouth to catch the rain.

PS. To read everyone else's entries, click here.
PPS. Alexandra posted about duets--music for writing--over the weekend, make sure you don't miss it because it's the first in a series =) (click here)


♥ Sara

An Almost Kiss Scene...

Frankie Mallis, of Frankie Writes, is hosting today's No Kiss Blogfest. (Click the link to find the other blogs participating!)  In her own words:

Totally inspired by Sherrinda, I'd like to announce The No Kiss Blogfest! We'll be posting scenes from our WIPs, favorite books, movies, and tv shows that show the almost kiss-- the rising, crushing, excruciating, longing, tension that comes from when two characters get oh-so-close to kissing that you can just feel it....and then...they don't! 

I had so much fun with Sherrinda's Official Kissing Day Blogfest, (my post is here) that of course I jumped at the opportunity to participate in today's blogfest as well!

I usually only write with past tense POVs. So for today's blogfest, I wrote a new scene and used it as an excuse to push my boundaries of a writer. It's written from two different POVs and it's present tense... (So bear with me, as I've never written this way before!) (And, also, thanks to Shannon for some last minute proofreading!)

###

(Abby)

Logan is dead. My brother. He’s gone. I don’t understand.

Last night, he ruffled my hair while we watched a movie. I was annoyed. Annoyed! So I tripped him when he left and he slammed his elbow into the corner of the doorway. It was his turn to be irritated—but only in that “you’re such a pest, but I still love you because you’re my little sister” kind of way. At least we grinned at each other before the door closed... at least there’s that.

When Reed knocks at the door, I open it to let him in. His deep gray eyes are as red rimmed as mine and we stand, for a moment, in silence. He’s Logan’s best friend. His roommate. And he’s the skeleton in my “I secretly love you, always have and always will” closet.

Today though, for the first time, my heart barely jolts at his touch when he puts his arm around me. I duck my face into his neck yearning for the comfort of his scent. As always, he smells of fresh fallen leaves on the morning after a night of rain. But the calm I search for sidesteps me and, instead, my eyes and nose begin to flow again. I sniffle into his skin and am belatedly embarrassed by the thought of what my snot must feel like against his throat.

(Reed)

Her shoulders shake against my chest and her tears fall silently into my neck. I smooth a few strands of hair that huddle against my chin and let my hand rest against her back.

I’m ashamed at what I feel as Abby’s body presses into mine. She’s Logan’s sister—off limits—and now’s not the time.

Because Logan is dead.

As the thought sinks in, I clear my throat to divert tears of my own. Abby shifts at the sound and pulls back just enough to look up at me. I can’t help myself. I cup her cheek and brush away a tear with my thumb.

Her green eyes are bright with sorrow, and yet still they pierce through my resolve. I force myself to look away and my gaze falls to her mouth. Her lips, just slightly parted, tremble as though in battle against tears. Again, shame floods through me at the temptation to close the distance between us. But the need. Oh, the need is there and it’s stronger than the shame. 

My lips graze her forehead… her right cheek… the left corner of her mouth…

Now my lips tremble. Like a magnet, they’re pulled toward hers. I pause—close enough to feel the shape of her mouth in the sliver of air between our faces. But here, in this instant, she takes a shaky breath. Anticipation? Fear? Grief? Whatever the cause, it jolts me back to reality—to the realization of what I’ve almost done.

 I jerk away from her.

“Christ, Abby, I’m sorry.” I run a hand through my hair, hating myself when her eyes fill once more. “This is the last thing you need. I… It won’t happen again.”

I stride to the other side of the room and resist the urge to punch a wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her reach out a hand, but by the time I turn to face her again, it’s dropped back to her side and she won’t meet my eyes.

###

Thanks for reading!!

On a lighter note, I'll leave you with one of my favorite almost kiss moments... From the MTV awards—I saw it the night it aired, and all I can really say is... SIGH



♥ me

A Writer's Tribute to Mistletoe

Sherrinda over at A Writer Wannabe came up with this super fun concept for writers who blog. Today, December 21st, is the Official Kissing Day Blogfest!!

In her own words,

I thought to myself, why don't we all post a kissing scene from our current WIP? All on the same day? We can hop around to all our friend's blogs and read about some sigh-producing, high-giddy-factor kisses. Who wouldn't love that? So here we go......

And I've decided to participate! The kissing scenes in Shattered were some of my favorite ones to write. But, I get nervous about posting sections from work that I want to publish. (NOT that I think anyone would steal it or anything! But because what if someday I have an agent who has a no posting policy?) So I wrote something new, just for Kissing Day Blogfest! It ended up surprising me--because I pretty much only write YA these days, but this scene came to me with adults in mind. Fun stuff! 

My Kissing Scene

“I can’t breathe... I forget how to breathe when you look at me the way you do.” She turned her head, unable to meet his eyes.

He stroked the side of her face and dragged a thumb across her lower lip, rough but, somehow, also tender.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t.

“Look at me.” He lifted her chin so that she would.

“What are we doing? What is this?” Though no more than a whisper, her voice shook.

He held her gaze. “You know what this is.”

For a moment, silence. It pricked her neck and burned her cheeks. And then she felt nothing except for the pressure of his lips against hers.

The stubble on his chin against her neck, as his mouth traveled the line of her jaw.

The rays of warmth that blossomed in the center of her being, as his hands trailed along her spine... His thumbs, when they traced paths down her ribs to rest at to her hips.

The sharp intake of breath in the moment before his lips met hers a second time.

Only when she felt the wall at her back did she realize they’d moved. It blocked whatever path they’d been on, but didn’t matter.

More pressure. More frenzied. Driven with an urgency previously unexpressed. The last remnants of restraint shattered and she pressed herself against him, into him. Needing the connection. Drowning in it. He pressed back. And so the dance began.

Oh, yes. She knew what this was.

Hope you enjoyed :-) Now I'm off to stalk the other kissing excerpts! (Sike! Truthfully, I prescheduled this post, so chances are I'm still sleeping... BUT when I wake up I will so be reading all of the other excerpts!)

I'll leave you a photo of my own personal mistletoe moment... (From my wedding last year!) 

****Okay - I have to add this. You know how I put everything in wordle? Because I'm pretty much addicted to it? Well the kissing scene was no exception. And look how sweet the word cloud from it turned out:

♥ me