Hey Book Lovers,
We have a special guest today. Author Lisa Beth Darling has a special post for all you guys.
So without further adieu here's Lisa...
The Natural By Lisa Beth Darling
For me, it all started in the 4th grade when my teacher gave the class its very first creative writing assignment. The topic she gave us was the first flight of a baby bird. Nice happy little topic, huh? It was supposed to be a nice happy little story too but mine wasn't. All of the other kids wrote about a baby bird spreading its wings and flying through the air happily chirping away. Me? My bird died.
Yep. It up and died. The baby bird flew too high, it struck an airplane, and fell to the ground dead. Mama bird cried. Poppa bird cried. Even God cried as He sent the rain down to Earth. (Mind you, I hadn't even heard of Icarus yet but my little 4th grade tale was pretty parallel!) My teacher took me aside and asked me why I had written my story this way, I said I didn't know. She'd asked for a story and that was the picture that came into my head. She said it was a good story and she gave me an 'A' but told me that I should write about happier things next time.
Bad advice. I'm glad I never took it to heart.In Junior High School (7th-8th grade) I started writing longer stories. They were HOT and EXPLOSIVE and MEATY and…well, they were full of much more than what a 12-13 year-old girl should probably know about life and sex. We had murder, mayhem, demons, ghosts, group sex, rape, torture, and all kinds of goodies like that. Well, it was the 80s! B-grade horror movies were the 'in' thing! I was no exception, my girlfriends and I went every Saturday to the matinee to see 'Jason' or 'Freddie' or 'Michael' or just whoever the Demon of the Week happened to be.
My little stories were eagerly awaited upon by my classmates who would sneak them down to the Mimeograph Room (yeah, that's long before Xerox came along!) and they would copy them and pass them around to anyone who wanted one. That lasted several months until one of the stories ended up in the hands of my math teacher who promptly marched me down to the guidance counselor's office. I sat there nervously awaiting what the counselor had to say when she finished reading part of my very first novel, "Save Me From the Roses".
Her face turned white as she read. Her mouth dropped open several times. She stared at me over the top of her glasses disapprovingly and then called my mother down to the school! Mom was very upset with me at first, I think she was mostly upset at being called to school, and the counselor had many questions for me. The main one was; Where did you come up with this?
I had to look at her and say: "I don't know. It's just the pictures and the voice in my head when I pick up a pencil and put it to paper."
The counselor told me I had talent and that my story was very good but it was too violent and I should try to write about happier things. But happy things aren't the pictures in my head and when I try to write something that's only happy/fluffy/light I get bored to tears and the pictures stop coming and the voice stops talking. Needless to say the counselor thought I required 'therapy', I might have a 'mental problem' if I'm 'hearing voices'. I thought she was nuts! I didn't have a 'mental problem', I didn't need 'therapy' and even at that young age I *knew* there wasn't a darn thing 'wrong' with me.
I wrote more stories my way, finished my first novel by the beginning of 8th grade and all of the kids loved it. I was also called down to the guidance office several more times and so was my mother. At night she'd tell my father about my stories and he would say; leave her alone and let her write whatever she wants. They argued a few times about it but in the end my dad won…thank the Gods! My mother and father told the guidance counselor so long as I wasn't hurting anyone they didn't care what I wrote and neither should she. That's an attitude I took with me to school a few times when I was called to the guidance office with my own daughters for their writings.
Again, I was lucky, my English teachers all stood up for me as well. They understood that passing around such graphic material in school wasn't really appropriate but I was the best writer any of them had seen in ages and they didn't want me to be forced to stop. Thankfully, each one of them also told the counselor there wasn't anything 'wrong' with me. However, to make and keep peace, we all agreed that I would stop passing them around school and I would tell my friends they were not to make copies any longer.
As my teachers, my parents, and my guidance counselor had a loud 'discussion', for the very first time in my life I heard a phrase that made my heart soar and told me exactly who and what I was. One of my English teachers—Mr. DePeter-- heatedly, and rather vehemently, asserted that I was a 'natural writer' and then went on to claim the voice I was hearing and the pictures I was seeing were not 'mental illness' it was…THE MUSE. I looked up at him as though God Himself had reached out to touch me with his Divine Hand.
THE MUSE! YES! That was exactly what it was.
I continued writing and writing and writing and writing to the point my arm hurt and my parents finally bought me an electric Royal typewriter. I loved that thing! My fingers could finally keep up with my brain! I banged out two novels on that sucker before it up and died. By that time, I was in 11th grade and the poetry editor of my high school literary magazine. I wrote poetry, short stories, quick quips, and all kinds of things but my first love is novel writing. I love to tell a long involved story.
I'd like to say that after high school I went on to college and got all sorts of degrees but that's not true. Shortly after high school—two months after graduation, actually—I met and fell in love with my husband. We welcomed our first daughter into the world a year later and we've been inseparable ever since. That was 27 years ago. I don't think I missed out on anything by skipping college and going straight through the School of Life, in fact I think I gained quite a lot. Education, as good as it is, is no substitute for experience in the Real World. I would have been bored to tears if I'd have to go through four more years of schooling.
I raised my daughters, and I wrote. I wrote articles for the local newspaper on topics from Gun Control, to City Government, to Open Adoption Records, and the Occult. I also wrote two more novels as they were growing and then, after they entered school, I wrote six more novels plus 30some short stories. I did it all with The Muse (or The Big Guy as I call him) at my side and in my head. I can't imagine living without him and I never want to try.
Writing isn't something I chose to do. I didn't wake up one day and say; Oh, I think I'll try my hand at this writing thing, it looks easy enough. It's my vocation. My calling. My God-Given Talent and the thing that connects (and sometimes disconnects) me from everything around me, I would be hopelessly lost without it and The Big Guy.
BLURB:
Inside the Heart of every Warrior breathes the Soul of a Hero--even within The Heart of War.
Meet Ares God of War, the greatest Warrior the world has ever known. He's moody, grumpy, dominant, ravenously sexual, and above all, built like a Greek God. Suspected of killing his Daughter in-Law, Psyche, and long in exile from Olympus, the solitude of Ares' secluded Greek Isle is interrupted when Magdalena MacLeod a plucky little Fey washes up on his shore after believing she's been shipwrecked. It's not mere fate that has brought the unlikely couple together yet it may be what tears them apart.
Branded with a golden chastity belt bearing the mark of Cernunnos, Celtic God of the Forest and Death, Alena has been on the run from her husband the Great Horned God for 200 years.
When the Olympians discover her presence on Ares' island, they send Apollo to the island while Ares is away with orders to bring her to Olympus. With nowhere to run and strikes a bargain with the God of War--her virginity for his protection.
Ares sees a sweeter deal; her in his bed and himself back in his rightful place on Olympus among the Gods. If it means turning Alena over to Zeus afterward, well that's of no consequence to him...is it?
After Alena proves herself to the God of War in battle and in his bed, the Ares must choose between his Divinely Dysfunctional Family, his pride, and Alena.
Get lost in this sweeping dark saga of lust, rage, revenge, and redemption. Battle Ancient Gods while falling in love with Ares God of War and Alena MacLeod. They share a love that will rock the world from the heights of Olympus to the Celtic moors.
Thank you Lisa for such a wonderful post and glimpse of your book. Keep an eye out book lovers we'll be doing a review on The Heart Of War in the next few weeks. Here are some links to buy this awesome book.
BUY LINKS-
Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/Heart-
$9.95 until July 31, 2011
Kindle http://www.amazon.com/The-
Nook http://productsearch.
iBooks http://itunes.apple.com/us/
Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/
All Romance EBooks http://www.allromanceebooks.
You can find out more about this novel by going to http://www.moonsmusings.com/
Trailer:http://www.youtube.
Author links: website- http://www.moonsmusings.com/
Blog- http://lbdarling.wordpress.com
FaceBook-http://facebook.com/
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/
I loved reading about your writing experiences. Thanks a ton for sharing. :-)
ReplyDeleteHi Sherry! Thanks so much for coming by today. I'm glad you enjoyed the post. I never know what to say or what not to say in these things so I just go with the truth and let it fly. :-)
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