tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16702398974773968272024-02-20T17:14:50.885-08:00Nikki Stuckwisch's MusingsNikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-39514091638970810302012-12-21T06:36:00.000-08:002012-12-21T06:36:02.005-08:00Who will care for the caregivers?<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's been a week. A week since our collective souls were shattered. Seven days, almost to the minute. None of us will ever be the same. Children. Teachers. Educators. Lost forever. My heart still breaks.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Since then, our country has been debating. Arguing gun control. Should guns be allowed? What purpose does an assault rifle serve in the average suburban home? Is the second amendment still relevant? We've also been talking about mental health. Do we do enough for those among us with mental illness? How can we prevent another atrocity from occurring?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All of those questions are good. I enjoy the conversation. But what I want to bring up is the health of those that responded that day. The police officers. The firefighters. The paramedics. They saw death and devastation that day that no one should ever have to see.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yes, it's what they do. "They're trained for it," you say. But no amount of training could ever prepare someone to see twenty children whose lives have been snuffed. To see the bodies of the educators who gave their lives to save the children entrusted to their care. I'm sure they did a critical incident debriefing. But here's the problem. It's not enough.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">First responders are, by definition, the ones who are on the front lines. On a daily basis, they're out there, seeing blood and guts, literally, observing human drama at its most raw. And they're expected to. No one questions whether or not they're capable. Sure, they're trained. But how do you train the emotions not to respond? No amount of training can stop the nightmares. The panic attacks. The memories.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One physician lost fourteen patients that day. He is devastated, wondering how he's going to comfort the families left behind without losing his composure. Doctors all over the world are offering advice. Some say "Stay strong." Others say "Cry with them." It underscores the fact that first responders and physicians aren't immune to the questions that arise from incidents like Newtown. They're not always sure how to react. They act on instinct, on training, at the scene. But what about when they go home to their own families? They're strong when they pull the bodies from the wreckage, but that strength all to often fades into silent, hidden tears.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have gone to visitations, to funerals, of the patients whose lives I've briefly touched. I've cried when I've learned that the baby I pulled back from the brink has passed on. I've spent sleepless nights, wondering what else I could have done.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I know I'm not alone.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When you think of, pray for, those whose lives were taken, remember those that tried to save them. If you see a police officer, a firefighter, a nurse, or a paramedic, thank them for their service. It may not be much, but every little bit helps.</span></span>Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-25290691043047312302012-12-09T14:02:00.000-08:002012-12-09T14:02:00.555-08:00Goodbye, Bianca
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last week was a rough one.<span> </span>We had to put our 16-year-old cat,
Bianca, to sleep.<span> </span>She pre-dated my
husband, my profession, and my writing life.<span> </span>Needless to say, I <span style="font-size: large;">f<span style="font-size: large;">elt</span></span> very close to her.<span> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Only p</span>roble<span style="font-size: large;">m? S</span>he wasn’t very close to
me.<span> </span>She was a hisser, a scratcher,
and an occasional biter.<span> </span>I still
loved her, but when the time came to euthanize her, I doubted myself and
wondered if I was doing it for convenience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know <span style="font-size: large;">it</span> wasn’t about convenience.<span> </span>She couldn’t jump, couldn’t climb, and
was drinking water out of the shower because she was too weak to hold her head
up over the edge of the water bowl.<span>
</span>She was too tired to hiss when the kids picked her up, too weak to
protest when placed in someone’s lap.<span>
</span>If I didn’t know my cat, I’d say she had become a lap cat in her old
age.<span> </span>But when she yowled at night,
in pain, I knew the time had arrived.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>The
girls took it hard.<span> </span>I did,
too.<span> </span>Even the husband shed a
tear.<span> </span>(Don’t tell him I told you.)<span> </span>I worked that weekend, and several
co-workers asked how I was holding up.<span>
</span>The conversation, being held in an ER, soon turned to humans, and how
some people wished euthanasia would be made legal for their human loved ones.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Person
after person told of a family member with terminal lung cancer.<span> </span>With Alzheimer’s so severe that the
person didn’t remember to eat and needed a feeding tube.<span> </span>With congestive heart failure requiring
oxygen and intravenous medications just to keep the person from drowning in his
own fluids.<span> </span>Some wished that they
could help them on the final journey.<span>
</span>Others felt it was morally wrong.<span>
</span>Conversation<span style="font-size: large;"> became</span> heated.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>Medicine
in America is different than medicine in other countries.<span> </span>Death is seen as a disease, a condition
to be avoided, a failure.<span> </span>In other
places, death is part of life.<span>
</span>It’s not something to be feared.<span>
</span>Doctors aren’t sued when it occurs.<span> </span>Money is spent to make sure death is honorable, honest, and
free from pain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>When
I took the Hippocratic Oath, I swore to First Do No Harm.<span> </span>While I don’t think euthanasia is the
right answer, I do think we need to spend more time making death something that
is free from pain.<span> </span>Something that
is part of the journey, not an end to be feared.<span> </span><a href="http://www.healthcarechaplaincy.org/palliative-care-key-facts.html">Palliative Care</a> is such an important field that does good
work.<span> </span>I just wish we used it more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>When
my own father passed, some in my family criticized that we didn’t send him to
the hospital.<span> </span>It’s true.<span> </span>We didn’t.<span> </span>We didn’t put him on antibiotics.<span> </span>We didn’t put him on intravenous fluids.<span> </span>Instead, we gathered around his
bedside, lit a candle, and reminisced about the man who was leaving us.<span> </span>He wouldn’t have wanted it any other
way.</span></div>
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Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-12337325444949951402012-12-04T06:22:00.000-08:002012-12-04T06:22:29.398-08:00I've been a baaaaad, baaaad blogger...And boy, do I feel sheepish. (Sorry, recent pun wars with my brother-in-law have left me making puns where no puns should dare to tread.)<br />
<br />
My crazy year, you ask? It just keeps getting crazier. The new job I took this summer? Quit. The old job I quit? Back in. I'm staying home during the week with the kids, working in the ER on weekends, and writing like a fiend. And I'm loving every minute of it.<br />
<br />
I just finished NaNoWriMo as a winner. I wrote 50,596 words in thirty days. Crazy, but true. I have no idea if they make sense or not, but I like where the story is going, and I can't wait to finish it (which will probably take me another 20,000 words). Then I'll dive in, edit the heck out of it, and start submitting. Unless, of course, I've got an agent by then. Here's hoping.<br />
<br />
My question on my last blog post went unanswered by myself for months. Sorry about that. But it's kind of a moot point right now, since the words are flowing out my fingertips. And I'm loving that, too. It feels good. Sometimes I have a tough time forcing myself to write, but NaNoWriMo showed me that I can do it. I wrote every day except one (sick kid kept me from getting to the computer-- really didn't want to get vomit on my keyboard), and there were days I didn't feel like writing, but I did it anyway. I'm finding that this writing thing is really important to me. I hope someday to say I'm a published author. But even if I'm not published, I can truly say I enjoy the journey.<br />
<br />
After months of writing, form rejections, and dashed hopes, it's a powerful thing to believe that writing just to write is OK, too. Crazy, no?Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-92021571330538410912012-06-08T13:21:00.000-07:002012-06-08T13:21:41.894-07:00Writing: easy peasy or blood, sweat and tears?Talk about a wild year thus far. My old job went belly-up, I had to find a new job (which has yet to start), and I've been writing two works in progress. *Whew* I've come up with some great ideas for a couple of novels, and slowly but surely I'm pecking away at them. These aren't coming out as easily as CODE did, and I'm not sure why.<br />
<br />
What about you, dedicated writer? Do you find that the words just flow from your fingertips? Or is it a struggle to get those sentences out on the page? Are some works easier than others? Why do you think that is?<br />
<br />
I'll share my thoughts in a day or two. Until then, let me know what you think.Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-15038213764803755072012-01-09T05:57:00.000-08:002012-01-09T05:57:23.030-08:00A public service announcementWell, it's that time of year again. RSV is here. Influenza is here. And in a cruel trick of microbiologic proportions, there's a gastrointestinal bug here that is absolutely vicious. At one point yesterday, 7 of my eight patients were puking. It wasn't pretty. And one patient needed three bags of IV fluids, just to be hydrated enough to pee. THREE. That's dehydrated, folks.<br />
<br />
So here's a friendly reminder to wash your hands. Wash them every time you think about it. Carry hand sanitizer with you. Use it. And make sure to moisturize your hands, too. You don't want bugs crawling into the cracks that inevitably form when you wash your hands within an inch of their lives. <br />
<br />
Here's to a healthy and happy 2012!Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-13559408872117377642011-11-02T16:05:00.000-07:002011-11-02T16:05:20.139-07:00NaNo madness!All this NaNoWriMo craziness has made me realize that I'm probably one of ten writers I know who aren't participating. Do I feel left out? A bit. But I made a conscious decision not to participate, and here's why.<br />
<br />
NaNo is great for getting you started. 50,000 words in a month is huge. If I didn't already have two WIPs I probably would have done it. But I've got 21,000 words of one written, and almost 15,000 of the other. It's not fair to start NaNo in the middle of a WIP. And it's not fair to my WIPs to shelve them while I start on something completely new.<br />
<br />
That said, I have nothing but admiration for those who do NaNo. And I hope to do it next year. I just need to have my WIPs done by then!Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-11973850810896661842011-10-02T12:55:00.000-07:002011-10-02T12:55:41.902-07:00Ten Things about MeI was nominated to do this 10 Things thing going around the internet by <a href="http://lisalregan.blogspot.com/2011/09/10-things-and-contest-reminder.html">Lisa L Regan</a>. According to her post, I'm supposed to tell you ten things you might not know about me, and nominate a few other bloggers to do the same thing. So without much further ado:<br />
<br />
1. My children are the greatest accomplishment of my life. I went through hell to have them (infertility treatments, surgeries, and in vitro fertilization) and wouldn't change a minute of it.<br />
<br />
2. I was in an improvisational comedy group in college, called Just Add Water. Yes, I was funny at one point in my life. On a side note, we chose not to bring Demetri Martin into our group. Yes, THAT Demetri Martin. The stand up comic with his own show on Comedy Central. Good choice, no?<br />
<br />
3. When I was running for class president my senior year of high school, I wore a sandwich board depicting a giant duck asking for votes. And I won. Probably no thanks to the duck board.<br />
<br />
4. I love all kinds of music. Classical, hard rock, country, rap, it doesn't matter. If it's got a beat, I'm down with it.<br />
<br />
5. I can play piano, harpsichord, and pipe organ. Unfortunately, I don't play them well anymore.<br />
<br />
6. I can't stand white sauce. Alfredo sauce, sour cream, cream cheese, ranch salad dressing all earn a big "yucko" from me.<br />
<br />
7. I like banana flavored things, but can't stand bananas. It's the texture, people.<br />
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8. I broke my left arm when I was four. I tripped over my own feet and fell down a hill. My parents thought I was fine, until I woke up the next day with a giant, purple wrist. I still remind my mom of her neglect on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
9. I found our current house while driving my sleeping child around in the car. I didn't care that gas was almost 4 dollars a gallon. She only slept while I drove, so drove I did. I saw the house and fell in love with it, before I'd even seen the inside. I hope I never have to move again.<br />
<br />
10. I hurt my knee wearing stiletto heels and dancing. Apparently, grace is not my strong suit.<br />
<br />
And now, to the people I'd personally like to learn more about.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://blog.genniferalbin.com/">Gennifer Albin</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://falenformulatesfiction.blogspot.com/">Sarah Ahiers</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://melindawriter.blogspot.com/">Melinda Williams</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://me1ka.blogspot.com/">Meika Usher</a><br />
<br />
Hope you all join in the fun! I certainly enjoyed it, though it was difficult to come up with ten semi-interesting things. Did I succeed? Comment if you'd like!Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-1135629223130474842011-09-29T14:35:00.000-07:002011-09-29T14:35:56.293-07:00I've been nominated for a Liebster award!<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 24px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Many thanks to <a href="ttp://joanna77juliet.wordpress.com">Joanna77</a> for the nomination. It's an honor to be thought of, so thank you, Joanna77. Here's a little more information on what the Liebster Award is all about:</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 24px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">‘The Liebster Award is said to have originated in Germany and translated to English, Liebster means “beloved.” The Liebster Award is meant to bring more attention to blogs with fewer than 200 followers and has four rules.</div><ol style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: decimal; margin-bottom: 24px; margin-left: 1.5em; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Show your thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.</li>
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.</li>
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Post the award on your blog.</li>
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Bask in the love from the most supportive people on the Internet. So I have decided to nominate the following five favourite blogs:</li>
</ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;"><a href="http://melindawriter.blogspot.com/">Melinda Williams</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif;"><a href="http://crazyladywithapen.blogspot.com/2011/09/its-on-like-donkey-kong.html">Darian Wilk</a></span></div><div><a href="http://lisalregan.blogspot.com/">Lisa L Regan</a></div><div><a href="http://www.tracykraussexpressionexpress.com/">Tracy Krauss</a></div><div><a href="http://alexdjuricich.blogspot.com/">Alex Djuricich</a> (full disclosure-- Alex is my husband, and he needs more blog followers. I do like his blog, though.)</div><div><br />
</div><div>Visit these blogs and follow if you like them. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!</div>Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-75372664628122915532011-09-11T06:14:00.000-07:002011-09-12T05:27:46.571-07:00September 11, 2001The day dawned bright and sunny. A perfect day to be outside. Too bad I was stuck inside at work. I worked in a small ER in southern Indiana, where pick-up trucks ruled and hunting was taught at birth. The first plane had just hit the WTC when we got the call.<br />
<br />
A man, out hunting with his buddy, had just been shot. He had buckshot from neck to knees and was in pretty bad shape. They were bringing him to us, hoping against hope that the injuries weren't as severe as they appeared.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately for the man, the injuries were quite severe. I placed a tube in his chest to reinflate a lung collapsed by the shotgun blast. I told the man we were going to get him to a trauma center as soon as possible, and to hang in there.<br />
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We called for the chopper. By this time, the second plane had hit the tower, and the pentagon was in flames. Nothing could fly. Not even a medical helicopter all the way out in Indiana.<br />
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We sent the man by ambulance, but the ride took over an hour. By the time he got trauma center, he was already infected with bacteria from the wounds in his abdomen. Three days later he was gone.<br />
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Why do I tell you this story? Because 9/11 didn't just hit NYC, DC, and Pennsylvania. It hit all of us. Some of us were affected in big ways, others in small, but it profoundly changed the lives of all Americans forever.<br />
<br />
I will forever remember the man I resuscitated on September 11, 2001. I will always add another number to the accounting of dead from that day.<br />
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Take a moment today and remember those who are gone forever.Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-85774188850602588652011-09-05T05:59:00.000-07:002011-09-10T19:13:32.525-07:00Campaign Assignment Numero Uno<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Here's my first assignment in the <a href="http://rachaelharrie.blogspot.com/2011/09/first-campaigner-challenge.html">Rachel Harrie Campaign</a>, something I've never tried before-- Flash Fiction! Here's the actual assignment:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><i>Write a short story/<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flash_fiction" style="color: #7e1644; text-decoration: none;">flash fiction</a> story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open” These four words <u>will </u>be included in the word count.</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><i>If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: "the door swung shut." (also included in the word count)</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><i>For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY!</i></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><i></i></span> I don't know how it'll turn out, but I had fun doing it. I managed to complete all three aspects of the challenge, all before having coffee, which is pretty incredible for me. So, without further ado, here it is!</span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The door swung open, revealing the chaos within. No light existed in this vacuum, the light from the hallway bulb fighting to illuminate the space. The stench of something long forgotten wafted up from the floor, assaulting nostrils and offending sensibilities. I feared what I might find as I contemplated the unthinkable: entering.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Perhaps I was over thinking things. As far as I knew, no one had entered the door and failed to return. All I had to do was go in, complete my task, and get out. Simple, right?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But I didn’t do well with small, enclosed spaces. I didn’t do well with manual labor. And this job combined the two in a place that scared me. It needed to be done, though. I rolled up my sleeves, took a deep breath, and entered.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I looked around the area. Games were on the top shelf, clothes were stuffed into every conceivable corner, and an old bowling ball of my dad’s threatened to fall off a shelf in the corner. One small bump is all it would take. It would land on my foot and break it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Enough. I was out of this closet. Behind me, the door swung shut.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">That's it. Questions? Comments? Ways to improve? All are welcome. My entry is number 17-- don't forget to "like" it if you do, in fact, like it. </span></span></div>Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-31880858881341141582011-08-29T21:37:00.000-07:002011-08-29T21:37:53.875-07:00I joined the campaign!I joined the Third Writers' Platform Building Campaign, and am looking forward to networking with other authors and writers. It's a great event, where writers of all stripes get together, work together, and build online presence together. I'm hoping to learn a lot from the other participants. If you're interested in learning more, go <a href="http://rachaelharrie.blogspot.com/p/writers-platform-building-crusade.html">here</a> and check it out. But fair warning-- she's closing the site to new participants on Wednesday, so go soon!<br />
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My thoughts are with all of those out East, especially in Vermont and the Catskills, who are dealing with catastrophic flooding right now. We're keeping you close to our hearts.Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-57620786085828527752011-08-25T08:19:00.000-07:002011-08-25T08:20:26.769-07:00The worst part of the writing game...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">... is the waiting. I feel like I've been waiting for responses from agents and editors for months. And it's because I have. Here's how the game goes:</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">1. Write a book.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">2. Write a query.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">3. Send said query to thoroughly researched agents.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">4. Wait.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">5. Wait some more.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">6. Wait for it...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">7. Either a rejection or a request arrives. If it's a rejection, file it away. If it's a request, send the material.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">8. Wait.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">9. Wait some more...</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You get the picture. The worst part about it is, there's no one to blame. The agents and editors are slammed with work. They've got clients with whom they're working, they've got submissions to read, and they've got the slush pile (that's unsolicited query letters to the non-writer folk out there) to wade. While I think it would be fun to read as much as agents read, I get that it could get really old, really quickly.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So what does one do when waiting? Well, I've got my day job. I've got children with whom I can play. And I've got another baby: my work-in-progress. I've added a couple thousand words a day for the past week, and it's starting to really shape up. I might even come up with a plot instead of just characters soon. It certainly beats staring at the computer screen.</span>Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-10091825591114208792011-08-11T07:21:00.000-07:002011-08-16T04:23:33.721-07:00When life gives you lemons...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So my lovely minivan got crunched yesterday by a beverage truck. The front end is smashed, the car is not drivable, so I spent a good portion of my afternoon in a tow truck. Luckily it wasn't a hit and run, so I have the other driver's info, and hopefully I won't have to pay a deductible. Said beverage truck hit my parked car while I was inside a building at an appointment. I wasn't even in the car. Couldn't be my fault, right? Well, you'd think so, but the driver's insurance is likely going to contest my claim. Wonderful. And it wasn't even a Budweiser truck. At least that would have given it better story value.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then I called to get a rental car. It could be several weeks before my mom-mobile is fixed, so I need a car. You'd think a rental car agency would have cars. But again, you'd be wrong. No cars, no vans, not even a scooter. So I had to wait until this morning to get a car.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It gets better.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My choices this morning? A smart car or a hearse. Now, the smart car would have been OK, except that I need to put two booster seats in it. And you can't put a kid in a booster seat in the front seat or a hatchback.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The hearse it is.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Now, it's a perfectly functional car. I'm not going to put the type, just 'cause I don't want to get sued, but it's black, it's long, and it looks like I'm transporting corpses. It uses flexfuel, so at least I'll get good gas mileage while towing the dead. Bad enough that I don't have a garage door opener and won't be able to put it inside. No, this hearse will be waiting outside my house for everyone to see.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Even better? I work in a hospital. In an ER. This car will be parked outside of said ER. What kind of message does that send? "If we don't make you better, hey, at least the funeral home journey will be quick!" or "Bring out your dead!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Monty Python's got nothin' on me.</span><br />
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Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-89037091982278398802011-08-09T13:57:00.000-07:002011-08-09T13:57:04.552-07:00I CAN say no!So can someone tell me how in the hell I ended up with five bags of clothes, empty containers of Dairy Queen, and a time share in the Dominican Republic?<br />
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I really can say no. I did it today, in fact. I said no to my daughter when she wanted a dress three sizes too big just because it was white satin and looked like a wedding dress. I said no to the lady at Kohl's who wanted to me to sign up for yet another credit card in order to get 20% off. And I said no to going to Target to do yet more shopping. (Aren't five bags of clothing enough?)<br />
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But that's small potatoes. The time share? That's huge. But I fully blame my husband for not saying no to my begging. After all, don't we need a place in the Caribbean to go when life gets to be too much?<br />
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Looks like my main character is going to be going to the Dominican Republic for a medical missions trip. I need the tax write off!Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-8513907481630040392011-07-10T11:31:00.000-07:002011-07-10T11:31:48.638-07:00ThrillerFest lives up to the hypeWhat an amazing weekend. I've been to conferences in other industries before, but have never felt the sense of community as I did in New York City. Who would've thought such a big city could create such a cozy sense of belonging?<br />
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I was starstruck at first. Come on, we're talking Steve Berry, John Sandford, Karin Slaughter here. The first day, I just sat with my jaw hanging open as they taught what they knew at CraftFest. Talk about learning from the masters. I'll just say that I have almost an entire legal pad of notes, and I didn't even make it to the conference until Wednesday afternoon. (Silly day job.)<br />
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But I was soon talking to other authors, which is totally out of character for me. I met a wonderful woman from New Zealand who is going to be my new critique partner. I met another quite nice lady from New Hampshire who practiced pitching with me. I walked up to another author (a NYTimes best-selling author, by the way) from Indiana and introduced myself. I pitched agents without soiling myself. And I went up to Karin Slaughter, one of my idols, and said hello. She even said hello back.<br />
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So what's the take-home point? Conferences are all about networking. They're not about creating a hierarchy, or about pointing out who is successful and who is not. They're about creating a tight-knit community of like-minded people who need one another to get to the next level. That's the real reason for conferences. I'll do well to remember that the next time I attend one.<br />
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Oh, and as for ThrillerFest? If I can't attend next year, I think I'll cry.Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-53387254632643470192011-07-02T09:12:00.000-07:002011-07-02T09:12:07.453-07:00Twitter made me thinkOn Twitter today, an agent asked "What would you like to tell an agent?" That got me thinking. There's so many things I'd like to tell/ask an agent that I'm just going to get some of them out here.<br />
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First off, I love when agents give me a "yes" or "no." I hate being left hanging for months on end. I'd much rather know it's a "no" than wonder if I might, possibly, get to yes. At least, after a month or so. (I can take the wondering for a while.) If it's too difficult to respond to everyone, which I get is quite likely, at least have an auto-responder that let's me know that my query got to your inbox. I'm always wondering if I got filtered like spam. If I got an auto-response, I know I'm in the cue, and if I don't hear anything in eight weeks, I'm almost certain it's a no. And that closure does wonders.<br />
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I also like it when an agent's website clearly delineates what he or she is interested in. It also helps if it says that the agent has a "no response= no" policy (see above paragraph). Plus, it's fun to read what the agent represents, what he or she is working on, and what he or she is reading for fun. Websites are such a great resource for writers, and I love it when an agent has a good one.<br />
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What I'd like to know: How cool is it to read books for a living? I can only imagine how fun it would be. Granted, you have to get through a lot of slush to get to the gems, but finding those gems must be such a rush. If I lived in NYC, I think I'd be looking at a change in occupation. It sounds like hard work, but fun work for someone who loves books. <br />
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How do you pick what you read? I'm sure that there are times when the query and the book perfectly align, but that can't be common, either. I hope my query accurately represents my manuscript, but I wonder if other writers even care, or if it's a "get my book read at any cost" game. I don't like playing games, and I'd bet most agents don't, either. It must be difficult.<br />
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On that note, I'd like to thank the agents for all the hard work that they do. Wading through slush can't be fun all the time. Dealing with editors can't be fun all the time. And dealing with writers who don't know how to take "no" can't be fun, either. So, thank you, agents.<br />
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Now, please sign me!Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-3949868263525776432011-06-24T16:12:00.000-07:002011-06-24T16:14:40.460-07:00ThrillerFest part deux<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I try not to cover the same topic twice, but I just can't help myself. I'm way too excited about ThrillerFest, CraftFest, and AgentFest. I'm excited to go to New York again, where I haven't been in years. I even went shopping today to get a new outfit in which to pitch agents. Can you tell I'm thrilled? (Pun intended again. And the rules of comedy say I have to make the same joke three times if I make it twice. Don't say I didn't warn you.)</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But I'm also petrified. I posted my query on a PitchU Pitchfest, but couldn't bring myself to record a pitch. Instead, I've been practicing on my husband. I think he's getting tired of hearing about CODE. Or maybe he's tired because our girls keep sneaking into bed with us in the middle of the night. Could be a combination. Who knows?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The query review went well, though. The agent to which I directed it was interested, so yay! Now to go through the manuscript one more time and make sure it is beyond perfect. (Yeah, right...) The enemy of great is good enough. So it's not good enough. Not today, anyway</span>.Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-80713110719340370262011-06-21T17:36:00.000-07:002011-06-21T17:36:32.095-07:00I'm going to THRILLERFEST!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm so thrilled! (Pun intended.) I was able to switch a couple of shifts, and now I've got the ability to go. I'm working the night before, but so what? I'm going to be in the same hotel as Ken Follett, Diana Gabaldon, Michael Palmer, and R.L. Stine. How freakin' cool is that?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But this also means the clock is ticking. I've got to finish my revisions before I go, so I can pitch agents at AgentFest. I need to practice pitching so I don't sound like an idiot. Heck, I've got to come up with a pitch. Easier said than done, right? And I need to research which agents to pitch.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Looks like I've got a lot of work to do.</span>Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-90468252924197195792011-06-17T13:28:00.000-07:002011-06-17T13:28:48.781-07:00They say you have to kill your darlings...But I never realized it would be so difficult! After receiving some feedback this week, I decided that my novel needed a major revision. Suffice it to say that my word count will go down, but the quality will go up, and it needs to be done. The only problem is, it means cutting some scenes from the point of view of my teenaged girl.<br />
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Now, don't get me wrong, she's just a character. But I like her. I mean, I realllllllly like her. I like her voice, I like her spunk. I don't know if that will come through from another POV. But it needs to be done. So I'm killing my darling, getting rid of Jess's POV segments, and rewriting them from the POV of my main character.<br />
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It's hard to do. It means I'm going to have to re-imagine some scenes. I'm also going to have to get rid of the segments from the detective's POV, which will prove even more difficult. He's the one who figures out who the bad guy is and rushes to save the damsel in distress. Lucky for me, my heroines have a lot of pluck and can get themselves out of trouble. They don't need the man to save them. So it'll all work out. It's just going to take some doing.<br />
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Guess I'd better get off of my blog and get to work!Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-11326776044528164092011-06-11T12:54:00.000-07:002011-06-11T12:54:15.718-07:00Submitting is addictiveI feel like I'm on something (which I've never really been, by the way, I just imagine this is the way it feels). My heart palpitates, my palms get clammy. My breath comes in short bursts, and I sit, poised over the keyboard, preparing to hit "send."<br />
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Yes, submitting is like a drug. Querying has the same effect, but not as extreme. I don't know what it is about it that makes me feel so weird. Could be that I feel like I'm putting my life (and life's work) in someone else's hands. Could be simple nerves. Whatever it is, I'm starting to like the feeling.<br />
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That's kind of scary. I know I come from a line of addictive personalities, so I've never let myself do much that could lead to an addiction. I drink rarely, I've never done drugs, and I won't let myself gamble. But querying and submitting? If I want my book out there, I don't have much of a choice. And I do want my book published. I really, really do. So I'll keep querying, and I'll keep submitting.<br />
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And I'll keep feeling the rush.Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-2060739042241314172011-06-10T12:10:00.000-07:002012-12-04T13:05:40.602-08:00Being impatientThis query process is NOT for the impatient, which makes it a tough fit for me. I've been delaying gratification for my entire life, and now I want what I want and when I want it. That's not the way this process works.<br />
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Take, for example, a request I got today. It had been almost two months since I queried this agent, but I'd written her off long ago. Then, low and behold, a request for a full today! I'm over the moon. I'd be beyond thrilled for her representation.<br />
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So what have I learned? Yes, you may ask. I've learned to tread more slowly. I've learned that this process moves at its own pace, not at mine. And I've learned that I need to be methodical when it comes to getting published. What am I going to do? I am NOT going to send out the submission today. I'm too tired after a night shift, and I want to do this right. I'm going to wait (yes, that's right, WAIT) until at least tomorrow. I'm going to go over my manuscript with a fine-tooth comb. Again. I'm going to check my resources on manuscripts and their submission. Then, and only then, I'm going to submit to this agent.<br />
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And then I'm going to have a glass of wine. :)Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-64267348019333361182011-06-09T18:02:00.000-07:002011-06-09T18:02:24.228-07:00Forgot to post my new, improved first page!Thanks to everyone for their comments. This is the first page I entered in the contest:<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"> The woman lay naked on the old barn door, arms tied out from her tiny body, making her look like she was being crucified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her long blonde hair coiled under her head, which was taped down to the rough, splintered boards beneath her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tube snaked into her lungs and fogged with each breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She struggled with her bonds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spotlights had been hung in the corners, and the beams focused on the woman.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her scrubs were piled in the corner, white coat crumpled on top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A young man bent over the coat and pulled off a pin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The diamonds that created a shape of a bone sparkled in the bright light of the barn.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He pocketed the pin and went over to a box in another corner of the structure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulled out a brown bottle and a scalpel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He placed a surgical mask over his mouth and nose and walked over to the woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She screamed against the tube in her throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No sound emerged.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He stood to her left side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She squinted in the bright light shining down on her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He opened up the brown bottle and poured the liquid onto the woman’s left side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman’s breast and chest were stained amber under the solution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reclosed the bottle and set it aside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hoisting the scalpel, he examined the blade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman squeezed her eyes shut.</div><!--EndFragment-->Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-31685342367494539262011-05-29T19:02:00.000-07:002011-05-30T09:30:26.443-07:00You asked for it, you get it!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm entering a "first-250-words" contest run by Shelley Watters, so followers of my blog get to read part of my prologue. Let me know what you think. Just know, this is a thriller, so the scene gets rather graphic. This part isn't bad, but if you don't enjoy that sort of thing, I'd stop reading now. Just FYI. CODE is a 67,000 word medical thriller.</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> The woman lay naked on the bench, arms tied out from her tiny body, making her look like she was being crucified horizontally. Her long blonde hair coiled under her head, which was taped down to the rough, splintered boards beneath her. A tube snaked into her lungs and fogged with each breath. She struggled with the bonds tying her petite arms and legs to the boards they lay upon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Her scrubs were piled in the corner, white coat crumpled on top of the pile. A young man bent over the coat and pulled off a pin. The diamonds that created a shape of a bone sparkled in the bright light of the barn. Spotlights had been hung in the corners, and their beams focused on the woman on the bench.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> He pocketed the pin and went over to a box in another corner of the structure. He pulled out a brown bottle and a scalpel. He placed a surgical mask over his mouth and nose prior to walking over to the woman. The woman tried to scream against the tube in her throat. No sound emerged.</span></div><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> He stood to the left of his patient. The woman squinted in the bright light shining down on her. He opened up the brown bottle, and poured the liquid onto the woman’s left side. The woman’s left breast and chest stained amber under the solution. He reclosed the bottle and set it aside. He hoisted the scalpel, checking the blade for any nicks. It was perfect.</span></span>Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-24216925866526102562011-05-20T12:52:00.000-07:002011-05-20T12:52:52.412-07:00Take it up a notchGot my first request for a full this week. Yippee! I was so excited I spilled my coffee, then called my hubby, then spilled some more coffee. (Luckily, said spills were in no way near my computer.) I was waiting on feedback on my first few chapters so I decided to wait until I got the feedback to send CODE to the agent. I knew that wait would only be a day.<br />
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The feedback was positive-- looks like I've got a good grip on voice and POV, and all my reviewers loved my story. I didn't have to change a thing!<br />
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Still, for completeness, I decided to read through the entire manuscript again. I found a few things to change, but not much. Good, right?<br />
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So why was I paralyzed when it came time to send my novel? I was so excited that I literally could not push send. I was so afraid that I was about to make a mistake. Not with the agent-- don't get me wrong, I would be thrilled to be represented by him! I was just afraid that my novel wasn't the best it could be. I've worked so hard, so long on it. I know I'll keep working on it until the day my agent and editor tell me to stop. But I also know it's ready. So why the fear?<br />
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I think it's just fear of the unknown. This felt so real. Someone, a complete stranger, wants to read something that I wrote. He wants to see if it's something he wants to represent. How awesome is that?<br />
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My hubby finally talked me into pushing "send." I did it and felt instant relief. Now all I have to do is wait for the agent to respond. I'm getting pretty good at waiting. In the meantime, I'm off to work on my next work-in-progress-- MERCY.Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1670239897477396827.post-56579627337793408262011-05-15T07:48:00.000-07:002011-05-15T07:48:05.417-07:00Query Practice<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Yes, I know everyone says that the more you write, the better you get. I thought I got it. Then I discovered, today, that that goes for query writing, too.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I've been working on my query like crazy, and I couldn't figure out why no one was helping me. I figured I should start helping others, too, instead of just posting comments, but I didn't think I was qualified to help. Decided to jump in anyway, and low and behold, I find that the query-writing process is getting easier! Who would've thunk it? It's also fun to think about the books of other people. I've been too wrapped in my own manuscript. I need to start reading more, especially now that my class is winding down and I've finished reading "The Imperfectionists" for it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So instead of stressing about my own query, I'm going to try to help others with theirs. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> I'm going to read other people's books. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm going to let my query sit for a while, then come back to it later. Then, I'll ask for query help again, and see what I get. It's sure to be a smarter way to approach the process. Not to mention more fun!</span>Nikki Stuckwischhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06275363743773567047noreply@blogger.com1