A Sequel Added to the Process

February 27, 2022February 27, 2022 / jmorise / Leave a comment

I was told, years ago, that it was a good thing to have a sequel…not a guarantee, but a help.

It took many, many years to write my first Manuscript. I just wrote, struggling to get it right. I managed to obtain several critiques from talented, published authors. Later I sought and got more than one beta reader’s input.

Learning HOW to write is very hard work. Although I had lots to learn, I found it to be lots of fun. I still enjoy learning how to write fiction.

While years passed before I finished the first story I believed in, a sequel was nagging at me. Therefore, once the first MS was completed, I pulled out the few pages I had started for the sequel. Fitting it in my crazy, busy life, I started writing it last summer. Presently, I am working on the climax of this second manuscript.

I hope to publish both manuscripts at some point. But that is the rub…HOW and where to publish. I hope to Indie publish with help from a team of professionals who will guide me.

My goal: To tell a story important to me and share my views with the MG reader and a sequel (which is two years later with the same characters) with the YA reader in story form. A story of life, love, loss and freedom—coming of age.

Anyone willing to provide suggestions on how find a good editor for proofreading a 50,000 word YA novel and suggest how to publish will be much appreciated.

Also, how do authors promote their presence and their work?

Social media boggles my mind. My platforms are FB, Twitter, and WordPress. I have blogged for several years, talking about me and often comment on my writing journey…I get a lot of “hits,” a fair amount of likes, but very few responses.

Speaking of Interuptions…

February 6, 2022May 30, 2022 / jmorise / Leave a comment

I’m managing Hubby’s care. He underwent surgery a few days ago. Due to Covid restrictions, I wasn’t allowed inside the hospital.
We have a slew of doctor appointments coming up and wouldn’t you know, thinking I had it “all together,” I planned a sneak appointment for me, in between errands, to get a professional hair trim, and still show up in time for Hubby’s release from the hospital.

So, I went to the grocery, hurried home to put food away, then had a quick lunch/snack. As I was getting ready to head out, something hard as rock presented itself in my mouth.

What?

In a split second I realized what had happened. I was right. And my plans abruptly changed.

A bridge composed of two connected crowns detached from my teeth. The crown covered two teeth. The first two after my canine and a third tooth was a cantileverd molar. The two teeth were in perfect conditionm but were sacrificed to support a bridge and ultimately a sculpted molar. A “floating” molar replaced a molar which had been incorrectly removed from my right upper jaw years ealier by another dentist. (After removal, he said it was a perfectly strong tooth. He had attempted to relieve me of a pain in my jaw and temple. The pain returned after the extraction. Over time, it went away….and I was missing a tooth. Not a happy experience.)

This complicated bridge was installed forty-seven years ago. 47! I was told it could last thirty years—if I was lucky. At that young age, thirty years seemed an eternity. So I agreed to have it done.

The set is polished, and still new looking. I am hopeful a dentist of great talent will re-install the set, even though the first tooth I had sacrificed to make this crown possible had now broken off at the gumline. The second tooth, which was reshaped to accept the crown as well, is still in position. So there will be some serious pain in drilling and poking, I’m sure. Perhaps the last canterlevered molar can be cut off the set, then a tooth implant can be installed in its place, thus giving me a sturdier bite. This idea for the last molar is based on now learning that a cantilevered crown is not a very good setup…it would have ultimately failed over time. Well the time is now and it is a very inconvenient interruption.

Is there ever a good time for interruptions?

However, there is some good news. Hubby is home and slowly getting better. We will be walking within a week or two in our favorite woods path. Our daily habit. That is not an interruption. That is a planned event. I’ll make an appointment to have my hair trimmed some day soon—I hope.

Like and leave a comment. Appreciate it.

Are you a Beta Reader? Want to swap?

November 16, 2020November 15, 2020 / jmorise / Leave a comment

Hello fellow, writers, authors, publishers, readers,

I’ll swap with Beta Readers for my MG, historical, paranormal manuscript. Approx 53,000 words. Want an honest critique. I’ll do the same for you.

Theme: loss, guilt, frustration, anger, love, acceptance, hope and coming of age.

The setting: 1957, New Hampshire, fictional farming town on the Saco River, cradled in the White Mountains.

Tim will be 13 in 4 days. His two friends are 15 and 14. Each has experienced loss.

Here is the blurb:

Tim’s refusal to accompany Dad cost him his dad.

One year later, desperate to have things back as they were, Tim convinces his best friend to help him find the key—a bear—that could help bring his dad back.

His dad had spoken of the bear. But Tim hadn’t asked enough questions. Where and how can he find this creature? On their quest to the Saco River, searching for the bear, an unexpected storm unfolds.

A girl, and neighbor to Tim, spots the boys’ early morning departure from her kitchen window. Hurt at not being included, curiosity takes over. She follows, unwittingly placing herself in danger. Unable to get back home she is lost. A storm is brewing nearby and it’s coming her way.

The boys are trapped in a cave with little food. How long will it take for the River to recede? How can they find the bear if they are trapped? Tim has to convince his friend to believe in the bear, that it will rescue them like it had rescued his dad years before. Without belief, the bear would not help. But did Tim truly believe?

Tim’s roller-coaster emotions confuse him. Is he angry at Dad for leaving? He doesn’t think so. But then—

The three find themselves in a world that is like theirs—but not like theirs. They befriend a very old Indian couple. Perhaps the old couple knows where the key to Tim’s desire can be found.

Please leave a comment, share and like if you truly like.

Helpful critiques are always welcome.

Thanks for reading.

So what about that Manuscript thing… ?

March 12, 2020 / jmorise / Leave a comment

Oh. River Fork?

I had planned a coming of age, YA story. With a bit of fantasy aka paranormal.

Why did I write it?

As a former teacher, I encouraged my high school students to write. Several of my students had dealt with a major loss. They wrote about it, but no one talked about it.

Neither did I—Mother died in a fire. My sister and I witnessed the event. I was five, sister was seven. We never forgot. We never talked about it. Nor did father. Assumptions and rumors spread.

During my teaching career, a story slowly evolved in my head. Picture book? Children’s book? Family story book? My brain cranked out scenarios. It was a morass of imagery. How would I best present my idea? I wasn’t a writer. I wrote poetry. Still do and tuck it away in a briefcase. But writing a book?

I’m an artist. So, I started with cute pictures and poem-like stories.

The story grew. I dropped the cute — loss is not cute.

I needed a plan, feeling, a theme, a plot, etc… . What did I get myself into?

My head said, put it into words. I began writing, finishing the Manuscript the year I retired because I had more time to myself.

Then I researched the writing craft, improved my writing skills and investigated publishing options. Needless to say, publishing surely changed from when I first put pen to paper.

The story:

Timeline: 1956-57
Theme: the loss of a parent.
Setting: River Fork. A farming and logging community. In the mountains near the Saco River.
Characters: Three neighboring friends: Tim, Charlie and Roach. Tim will be 13 in three days. The others are teens.
It is about coming of age, death, forgiveness, hope and faith. Oh, and there is a budding romance.
There is a bit of paranormal (no magical potions, witches, vampires, violence, etc…)

So, Has Anyone Reviewed It?

The Manuscript has been line critiqued and gone through lots and lots of revisions.

A year ago I found three beta readers.

Results:
I did not write to the YA audience. It is suitable for the Middle Grade audience. Disappointment for sure here.

Okay. I asked for an honest review.

I received three great reviews. Two people pointed out what didn’t work and what could be done to make the story more interesting. One Beta Reader recommended a few resources. With expert advice and suggestions, I learned a lot. I am grateful.

So. I’m doing lots of editing, developing my characters and setting a bit more. And DUMPING stuff that was kind of iffy even as I first wrote it.

If it’s IFFY for the writer – It most certainly will be IFFY for the reader. DUMP IT. Ahhh. Yes. You’ll feel better. I did.

Once this latest revision is complete, I’ll need a couple of Beta Reader(s) again. Then on to an editor and publishing—self-publishing.

tbwavestandbyjo-2017-72dpir

For those who work with me in this endeavor, your name will be mentioned in the credits and you will receive a free digital copy of my novel once it is published.

The sequel—Roach’s story—sits in my laptop. Waiting.

Please like, comment and share this post.

Thanks.

J.M. Orise

So what about that Manuscript thing… ?

July 2, 2018March 12, 2020 / jmorise / Leave a comment

Oh. River Fork?

I had planned it as a coming of age, YA story. With a bit of fantasy aka paranormal.

Why did I write it?

As a former teacher, I encouraged my high school students to write. I found several of my students had dealt with a major loss. They wrote about it, but no one talked about it.

Neither did I—Mother died in a fire. My sister and I witnessed the event. I was five, my sister, seven. Needless to say, we never forgot. We never talked about it. Nor did our father. Assumptions and rumors were spread.

During my teaching career, a story slowly evolved. Picture book? Children’s book? Family story book? My brain cranked out scenarios. At first it was a morass of imagery. How would I best present my idea? I wasn’t a writer. I wrote poetry. Still do and tuck it away in a briefcase. But writing a book?

I am an artist. So I began with cute pictures and poem-like stories.

The story grew. I dropped the cute — loss is not cute.

I needed a plan, feeling, a theme, a plot, etc… . What did I get myself into?

My head said, put it into words. I began writing, finishing the Manuscript the year I retired. Then I researched the writing craft, improved my writing skills and investigated publishing options. Needless to say, publishing has surely changed since I first put pen to paper.

The story:

Timeline: 1956-57
Theme: the loss of a parent.
Setting: River Fork, NH. A farming and logging community. In the mountains near the Saco River.
Characters: Three neighboring friends: Tim, Charlie and Roach. Tim will be 13 in three days. The others are teens.
It is about coming of age, death, forgiveness, hope and faith. Oh, and there is a budding romance.
There is a bit of paranormal (no magical potions, witches, vampires, violence, etc…)

So, Has Anyone Reviewed It?

The Manuscript has been line critiqued and gone through many revisions.

A year ago I found three beta readers.

Results:
I did not write to the YA audience. It is suitable for the Middle Grade audience. Disappointment for sure here.

Okay. I asked for an honest review.

I received three great reviews. Two people pointed out what didn’t work and what could be done to make the story more interesting. One Beta Reader recommended a few resources. With this expert advice and suggestions, I learned a lot. I am grateful.

So. I’m doing lots of editing, developing my characters and setting a bit more. And DUMPING stuff that was kind of iffy even as I first wrote it.

If it’s IFFY for the writer – It most certainly will be IFFY for the reader. DUMP IT. Ahhh. Yes. You’ll feel better. I did.

Once this latest revision is complete, I’ll need a couple of Beta Reader(s) again. Then on to an editor and publishing—self-publishing.

tbwavestandbyjo-2017-72dpir

For those who work with me in this endeavor, your name will be mentioned in the credits and you will receive a free digital copy of my novel once it is published.

The sequel—Roach’s story—sits in my laptop. Waiting.

Please like, comment and share this post.

Thanks.

J.M. Orise

I Remember Stuff Like That

February 17, 2018March 12, 2020 / jmorise / 1 Comment

Why Is Sunday Longer Than Monday?

Every Sunday. Always the same. No one ever moved. Like they ate glue and got stuck. It was so boring.

Why is Sunday longer than Monday?

At six years, Sunday proved the longest day of the week. Once home from church, the hours passed so-o-o very slowly.

Dad napped on the sun-room divan wearing his Sunday suit pants, white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his tie draped over the maple lounge chair nearby. The Sears and Roebuck catalog lay on the floor, inches from his fingers. Mom was somewhere in the house doing Mom things.

Oh how many more hours before the end of the day?

The neighborhood kids vanished. They had been at church, dressed up fancy, boys with leather shoes, crooked neckties, buttons showing. Girls in dresses with pretty flowers and petticoats and shiny patent shoes. This fancy clothing was not for running around at the park up the street from our house where I spent nearly every day of the week. Were the kids pining to be out of doors too or did they have company?

Sitting alone on the front porch, watching cars drive by, what would I do?

One Sunday I decided to wash clothes.

wolverine waching tub and machine

I filled my tiny washing machine with water, begged Mom for a little Tide detergent then gathered my doll’s clothing. There I sat, rhythmically cranking the miniature plungers up and down, dislodging the make believe filth from my sedentary doll’s clothes.

The glass faceted wash tub sporting a mini-wringer, squeezed water from the wet laundry. With laundry suitably clean, I filled the washer with fresh water, rinsing the soap from the fabric. One more wringing and I was done. Afterward, I scattered the wet clothes on the porch floor near the sudsy and rinse water puddles.

Well, I made a mess of the porch. But the sun would take care of that for me. Besides, I had something else I wanted to do. I wasn’t sure what that was yet? It had to be something fun to make this gosh-darn-long-Sunday go away.

The dog. Where was the dog?

Sorry, kid. Sunday is sleep day. Go wash some doll clothes or something.

“Tiny!” I called, leaving my naked doll sun-bathing, patiently waiting for someone to pick her up, perhaps dress her in her nice, clean clothes. I suppose Mom did her Mom thing, cleaning up the front porch while I searched for Tiny. Don’t quite remember that part.

Never knew what happened to the little wringer washer. It disappeared somehow.

Leave me naked one more time and I’ll… !

wolverine washing machine toy

Anybody out there remember those long Sundays or perhaps that little Wolverine washing machine? I found a picture of it tonight. It is just as I remembered.

I hope my memories last longer than those gosh-darn-long-Sundays of long ago.

Sleep well my friends.

I think tomorrow is Monday. Yess!

Please leave a comment and share.

Thanks.

A House Full of Boxes – Where Is That Key?

June 16, 2017March 12, 2020 / jmorise / 1 Comment

The world’s greatest packer here.

All boxes taped solid, each box marked—contents, how to handle and where to deposit.

I like order!

Contemplating the move from New Hampshire back to Maine, advice came in from all quarters:

Hire a mover.
Get a large box truck.
Sell it all.
Have an auction.
Hire my friend—and his truck—and his friends.
Pack books by theme and organize them—like a library.
I’ll be there, just call me.
Buy moving boxes and white wrapping paper. No newsprint!
I got a trailer you can use. It’s an open trailer, pack it all at once and move everything in a day—just be sure it doesn’t rain.
Move it all into the garage and move it out later.
Rent a storage unit.
Leave it all behind.
$9-10,000 is a good price for all you got to move. That should be the worse case scenario.

Sheesh!

Hubby and I stopped talking and got busy.

What! You’re moving it yourself?
Hire someone to pack. You don’t have to do that.
You’re too old to do all that work.
Hire a mover!

No one asked what we wanted.

Our concern? Others packing would be a disadvantage—our not knowing where things were. That “good price” was too steep. We’d moved before—no one helped unless we begged at the last minute. Those buyer walk-through days had been met each time. We were successful this time too! The house was empty in ten days!

Day two, we packed an open trailer and a relative hauled it leaving it in our new yard. Arriving a few days later with a very heavy load in our box trailer and pickup, Hubby and I unpacked both trailers and truck. The next day, we were off again to NH.

What made it work for us was a special condition agreed to by the buyer—leasing the garage at closing. We moved out of the house ten days, in time for closing. Now we had thirty days to clear out the two-story, four bay garage. We made it in twenty-nine days! We now have thirty days to clear out the sawmill building. At the end of this month, we will be home free! Done! C’est tout finis! Finiti! Terminado! Back to painting and writing!

Okay! Calm down.

Why so long? Hubby and I were the crew. We spent days sorting, packing and going to the recycling center (I call it “the dump”) to dispose of unwanted stuff. We sold a few big items by hauling them to dealers for consignment. Each trip was three hours, sometimes more. Back pain was excruciating. It was difficult and exhausting.

Advice was replaced with “I told you so” comments! A few poked fun at how we just loved to move the hard way. Why not be happy for us? Why not congratulate us for what we accomplished—by ourselves?

We didn’t know how in the world we could carry the heavy furniture into the house and up a flight of stairs. We had struggled to move it to the trailer from the house. While dreading how to move our last heavy piece of furniture to the trailer, our young neighbor volunteered! He was fantastic. Later, he informed us of his bad back gotten while on duty in Afghanistan, but not to worry! He was glad to help. Bless his soul. At the other end, we hired two high school boys who gladly moved furniture upstairs and down with ease! Youth and strength go hand in hand. One hauled lobster traps with his dad, that explained his ability to pick up what we could not. Bless their souls! And very nice too.

My step daughter is very good at cleaning out barns and selling ‘stuff’ of interest to

Time for a break.

collectors. I snapped several photos to help promote the sale of the ‘stuff’ left behind.

One of the items we decided to sell was my old snow blower. They ignition key is packed in one of the boxes labeled KEYS. She needs that within a few days.

“Hmm. Hun, have you seen the box marked Keys?”

Hubby stares at the jungle of boxes.

No response.
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