The Blog Hop

The Blog Hop.
Thanks to, Amanda Buxton, for thinking I am interesting enough to be in her blog hop.

What am I working on right now?

I am making the editorial changes to my mystery/thriller Tattered Wings.
It is the story of a young boy who kills and why he feels it is necessary.
All through the story are bits of the lives affected by this boy's actions.
Do we make killers or are then born?

How does my writing process work?

Not like anyone else's from what I read.  I always get a kick out of how people say they write. They make their character list, they develop them, they get their scenes in their heads and off they go putting it all together.
This is how it works for me.
I can't sleep. An idea floats around in my head, then it starts beating against my forehead saying "Get up you lazy bum and write  this down because you won't remember it in the morning."
I drag myself out and transfer everything nagging in my brain on to a piece of paper.  I feel relieved and go back to bed. When I get up in the morning to go into my office. I am flabbergasted at what is on the paper. Here is a sample of what was in my head the other night when the idea for the Murders of Madison Hill came to me at 3:35 am.

“He's dead.”   

            “How do you know?”

            “Allen, you can't mistake dead!” Nate was poking the blue blob with a stick.

 “Come on Nate, I don’t like this. I keep thinkin’ he’s gonna move. Besides, if he’s dead we need to tell somebody.”

            “Allen, we aren't supposed to cut through the woods. Mom said next time we did, she’d  ground us.”

            “Jeez, Nate.  How can you think of that now?  If you don't go with me, I am going alone.”

            Nate didn’t move from his spot. He kept looking, prodding, and trying to turn the guy over, but he needed something bigger.

            It was an adult, and he looked horrible.  There was blood all over the leaves around him and the blue jogging suit he was wearing.  There was a definite whole in his head. The eye Nate could see  was open and foggy. Just as Nate began to turn toward Allen, he heard a rustling sound in the distance. It was rapidly getting closer. Nate pushed his little brother so hard he tripped. Reaching down he pulled the younger boy up, grabbed his hand,and ran toward the nearest clump of trees.  Pushing Allen down again, he threw himself on top, and clamping  his hand over his little brother's mouth, he whispered,  “Shut up. Don't move. Don't breathe.”

            Allen began to cry.

 

Hum, now I have Allen and Nate, where do I go from there? Honestly, I don't know but it will be interesting to find out. I am merely the writer and the thing inside of me that guides me lets me have all the fun.

 

What is the hardest part of writing?

 

Actually sitting down and writing. I seem to have a problem concentrating on it for very long. I like to read and walk around the farm. I visit the animals and pet the dogs. My woodshop calls my name because I like to build things. The only way it works for me it to go to the office first thing in the morning and write. I do most of my writing in my PJ's. If I get distracted early, it is a lost day.

 

What authors do I admire?

 

Mark Twain, Jeanette Walls, J.D. Robb, Joan Hess and anyone else you can spin a tale I can not figure out or that makes me laugh and holds my interest. 

Please stop by www.ambuxton.com and see what Amanda is doing. She is extremely talented.  Also. go by and see how Rob Myers does is at www.ignorramus.com