Something Woo-Woo This Way Comes (Penny Rader)

In honor of Halloween and the spooky, the strange, and the weird, I searched the Internet for articles and resources to aid in the writing of paranormal or supernatural tales.

I hope you find something in the snippets I've included that appeals to you and makes you click the links to read the entire articles.

billnwmsu http://bit.ly/1dPSPTQ
Creative-Commons Licensed Content

A Dark and Stormy Night: 10 Tips for Writing a Paranormal Mystery (Wendy Webb)

• Real world or new world?
• Once you've created your world, make your readers want to live there. And then pull the rug out from under them.
• Even implausible situations must be plausible.
• The "dark and stormy night" cliché isn't a cliché for nothing. 
• Adapt The Hero's Journey.
• Create vulnerability or danger that the lead character doesn't see for awhile, but the reader does.
• Give your readers breaks in the suspense. 
• You've got to believe.
• Was it just my imagination?

Hartwig HKD http://bit.ly/17ydGav
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How Paranormal Fiction Is Like Garlic (Kait Nolan)

…the paranormal includes phenomena and manifestations that lie outside the range of normal experience and cannot be scientifically explained or proven.

• Powers
• Creatures
• Angels/Demons
• Witches
• Ghosts
• Fairies/Pixies/Other fae folk
• Gods/Goddesses
• The just plain weird

An Introduction to Writing the Paranormal Novel and Supernatural Elements (Courtney Carpenter)

Paranormal novels…need some element of magic or the supernatural that’s so deeply integral to the story that the entire novel would collapse if you removed it.

People have been telling supernatural stories from the beginning of human civilization. Such stories form the basis of every mythology that ever existed.

Supernatural stories feed the human desire for escape. We can pretend we’re riding that magic carpet, making those three wishes, or swinging that sword because we know (deep sigh) it’s never going to happen for real.

How to Write a Paranormal – 7 Tips to Remember (K.A.E Grove)

• Originality in your writing
• Create a solid mythology
• A strong female heroine
• Hero
• Conflict and Villains
• Violence
• Stills needs a happily-ever-after

NightHawk24 http://bit.ly/1cnhVpa
Creative-Commons Licensed Content

Writing about Magic in Your Paranormal Romance, Part One (Lisa Whitefern)  and Part Two 

Logic and consistency are important.

Make magic relevant to your story, and a meaningful part of the conflict within the characters.

Consider what is important to your character, and associate the cost of using the power with this important thing.

Writing rules for magic systems:

• Establish a set of rules.
• Have someone (or something) deliver the rules of the magic system to your character.
• Create scenarios in which to put your characters that test these very rules.
• Create situations in which the cost of using magic is something that risks what the character holds dear. 

Types of consequences for the use of magic or limitations to magic:

• Time sensitive 
• Can be blocked
• Can be painfully overwhelming
• Unexpected
• Exhausting
• Can only occur under specific conditions
• Can only be used a certain number of times
• Restricted
• Corrupts
• A price
• Requires a recipe

JMiu http://bit.ly/Hvrisq
Creative-Commons Licensed Content

Bonus Material for sticking with me – Resources to Check Out: 

Encyclopedia Mythallica (all things mythical)

Encyclopedia Mythica (mythology, folklore, religion)

godchecker (gods and goddesses)

Irish Fairies

Myth and Legend from Ancient Times to the Space Age

Paranormal Research & Resource Society

Paranormal Vocabulary

Psychic Research – PRISM Paranormal Research

Religions and Myths

Rosemary Ellen Guiley’s Library (check out the left side of the screen)

Sacred Text (religion, mythology, folklore)

Werewolves: The Myths and the Truths

Zerotime (vampires and werewolves)

~~~

Are you writing a paranormal story or have a favorite paranormal story? Do you have any tips or resources to share? I’d love to hear all about it in the Comments section.

I'll Do Some Caroling

Here is my gift to my fellow WARA members and any other of our blog followers at this special time of year: A new Blossom story. Also, here is a picture of the "Blossom" Christmas tree in my office.

“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree,” Blossom moo-sang in her loudest voice, swaying her flank—which, she admitted, could stand a little trimming down—from side to side. “At the Christmas party hop.”

For Elsie’s benefit, Blossom did a fancy little hop, first the front legs and then the back legs. Something she’d perfected in the last few days. Much, of course, to Elsie’s continual eye-rolling at her practicing.

Elsie gave her typical harrumph and turned the other way in the field. No “party” mood for Her Highness, Blossom thought with a smile. The cranky Jersey paid as little notice to the whole holiday season from Thanksgiving through New Year as possible. Same thing every year. But not Blossom. Oh no. She loooved holidays, especially Christmas.

“You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singing.” Happily singing away, she strolled off toward the corner of the field where Ferdinand would, hopefully, be waiting to greet her. To heck with Elsie and her sour mood. The same went for the foolish dozen other cows who she knew yearned to be happy and heart-free like herself, yet who were wary of crossing Elsie. She could hold one devil of a grudge. Most cows didn’t want to risk facing it day-in and day-out, but Blossom didn’t mind at all.

“Let’s be jolly.” She did another zippy little hoof two-step, bopping her head around in pure delight. “Everyone’s dancing merrily.” Okay she didn’t know all of the words to the song she’d heard Farmer Sam’s daughters singing occasionally, but did it matter. No.

“Let the Christmas Spirit ring,” she mooed and picked up her pace. The wind really was kind of biting this morning as it blew across the snow-free field.

She shivered and breathed in the cold air. Instinct told her there would soon be snow covering this land. Most of the herd—including Elsie the opinionated—hated snow. Blossom didn’t particularly like being cold when she made her daily round about the field, but she would venture forth in rain, sleet, hail, snow… Well, in most any inclement weather to go see her beloved Ferdinand.

Thinking of her handsome one-ton prime bull had her almost skipping now. “We sing a love song…Your nose is a chilling…We’ll frolic and play…walking in a winter wonderland.”

She hesitated and blinked. Were those words right? Had she combined songs? Did it matter? Nope!

A familiar deep bellow pulled her from her wandering thoughts. Warmth curled through her. Ferdinand.

Donning her most beatific smile, she sped toward him. Her hunka-hunka burning love had already nudged down the weak part of the fence so that she could join him. He stood watching her, proud head held high, anticipation dancing in his large brown eyes. Heat, too. Naughty, naughty bull. She knew just what he was thinking, wanting.

“You should play harder to get.” Elsie’s words of disgust so often spoken to her crawled through her thoughts. “He only wants you for one thing.”

Not exactly true, although Blossom knew he really did enjoy that one thing. So what! So did she. But she also knew he really liked spending time with her. How many times had he stood patiently letting her babble on—and she did have a tendency to babble at times—about this or that? Did he ever make fun of her spinning tales of fancy? No. Did she manage to get him past his stoic, too serious moods with a bout of teasing or tickling that special spot just behind his ear with her tongue? You betcha!
“Last Christmas I gave you my heart…I gave it to someone special,” she sang, her heart fairly bursting with love. Her hoofs danced over the rest of the distance between them.

“Ah, my sweet Blossom,” Ferdinand rumbled, tenderness lighting his eyes. “You own my heart as well.”

As she stepped carefully over the downed fence and snuggled next to him, he heaved a relieved sigh. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

She tucked the words inside her and playfully nibbled at his ear. All was right with her world. “Back at you, my love.”

Writing Makes Me Happy

Some of us have been blogged about the downside of writing, but I'm choosing not to go that route. I admit there are many downers, but I prefer to think positively. I love writing and slipping away into one romantic story after another. I've been writing for many, many years and most of that time I wove together stories just to please me. I still occasionally write little stories simply because I want to try something different. Or I think about some storyline that is just fun to play with. I like to indulge my fantasies.

One of my most enjoyable ongoing storylines involves a cow who has every bit as much imagination as I do, Blossom. So I'm going to share one of my early quickie stories about Blossom, a story that made me happy to write it.

Enlightened

Blossom wasn’t in the mood to trail after Elsie today as she led the herd of blind followers out to the same old field, for the same dull day they always spent. It didn’t matter how many times Elsie turned her big Jersey head to glare back at her, Blossom wasn’t going.

Music drifted from around the side of the dairy barn and she completely put Elsie and the others from her mind. She loved music. It gave her dancing hooves. It made her daydream about other times, other places, being more than just Blossom, the token Guernsey on the farm.

Now that she had some time to herself, she felt inspired to indulge her fantasies. To heck with old sourpuss Elsie. Always telling Blossom to learn to accept she was just a cow. Plain and simple. A cow whose only role in life was to produce milk for their owner. Well, Elsie might be content to spend her days thinking only of what batch of grass to chomp on next, of how full her udder would get in order to please Farmer Sam, but Blossom wanted much more out of life.

The spirit of adventure once more spreading through her, she dropped the hay she’d started munching on and light-hoofed her way out of the barn. She’d had her fill anyway. She’d only been eating out of boredom and habit. Besides, she’d had a little trouble squeezing through the hole in the fence on her last adventure. Losing a pound or two might be a good idea.

As she rounded the corner, she spotted Farmer Sam’s wife hanging laundry on the clothesline beside the main house. The music seemed to be louder now. It grew even louder the closer Blossom got to the side of the corral. She had a notion it came from the black box on the ground near the clothesbasket. The beat was good. Lively. Her tail began swishing back and forth in rhythm with the sound. Her back end swayed. Definitely a tune you couldn’t resist letting your whole body get into. Perfect. She couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

The wind picked up, which Blossom didn’t mind at all. It kept those pesky flies from bothering her so much. But it also whipped something the woman had been trying to pin to the line away from her. The garment fluttered to the ground and she quickly bent down to pick it up. As she bent over, the woman’s low-cut top struggled to contain the abundant breasts she was blessed with. They looked ready to burst.

Blossom felt herself blushing. She didn’t particularly like it when her udder was so bloated with milk she was near to bursting and Farmer Sam saw her that way. Of course, her body was supposed to get that way. Still, she found it embarrassing at times, and she wondered if Farmer Sam’s wife ever felt that way when someone stared at her breasts.

She shook her head, shaking away the strange thought. Then she caught sight of the red dress at the end of the clothesline. Red, It was Blossom’s favorite color. Immediately she envisioned herself wearing a fine red ballgown, walking on her hind legs beside Ferdinand, that handsome stud of a Charlmaine bull from the neighboring farm. They were going to a barn dance. They’d spend the evening whirling and twirling around the sawdust covered barn floor. She’d bat her long lashes at him. He’d give her that saucy grin of his. And Elsie would be shooting daggers with her eyes at Blossom the whole night, because she had once considered Ferdinand her bullfriend. Not that Blossom could remember Ferdinand ever giving Elsie even more than a bored glance.

“Blossom,” Farmer Sam’s deep voice came from behind her. “Decided not to go out to the field today, I see.” He chuckled. “Well, I reckon that’s not a problem.”

He stepped beside her and gently patted the side of her neck. She was the only cow on the farm he talked to, touched more than to just get milk. She felt special. To show her appreciation, she winked at him as best she could.

He grinned. “You’re a flirt, aren’t you, sweetheart. It’s a dang good thing there’s a solid fence between our place and the Stanton’s. ‘Else I’ve a feeling their old bull would be paying you regular visits. Hot heifer that you are.”

Blossom beamed. Hot heifer. Wouldn’t Elsie just die of jealousy and annoyance if she heard that comment! Well, maybe when the herd wandered back tonight, she just might see to enlightening Elsie with that little tidbit.

Farmer Sam gave her one last pat and walked away saying, “At least you didn’t manage to get into the wine again.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Funniest thing I’ve ever seen. A drunk cow.”

She didn’t care that he was laughing at her for her last misadventure. No, she was still preening about his notion that Ferdinand would find her attractive, hot even. Oh, if only that were true.

A Magic Carpet of Books by J Vincent

Treasure, Magic , Mystery! Do you remember books from your childhood—from 5th through 10th grade? Do you remember what they inspired?

Books were a rare treat as a child. I went to a four room school which had no library. I don’t recall books for reading entertainment being available until about 6th grade when Sr. Agedia (my apologies for not recalling her last name but she was a fixture in Wichita with a variety of programs) became principal and each month brought 30 books from the Wichita Public Library. My world expanded exponentially. I leapt from the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder to Black Stallion and Island Stallion by Walter Farley, Black Beauty Anna Sewell, King of the Wind and Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry. Horse crazy you might say—I even had a collection of ceramic horses—still have a couple of them. But I also devoured Jim Kjelgaard’s Big Red, Irish Red, Son of Big Red, Outlaw Red.

Anne of Green Gablesby Lucy Maud Montgomery told me it was okay to be a tomboy. Who didn’t read Treasure Island and then spend countless happy hours drawing treasure maps and going on treasure hunts? The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C S Lewis said “dream of other worlds, of magic.” Around 8th grade I began to purloin my Dad’s Zane Grey books: Riders of the Purple Sage, Desert Gold, The Light of the Western Stars were but a few. They whispered that you only had to be strong, tough, and never give up and then good would prevail. In the mix was Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. By time I was a freshman (and thought I’d died and went to heaven to have a library available all the time) I had read Gone with the Wind, one of only a few romances I encountered until I met Georgette Heyer and regencies in my twenties.

My reading in the middle school and high school years was broadened and leavened by Reader’s Digest Condensed Books. They introduced me to Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth and the mysteries of China. That led me to her China Sky a love story of sorts set during the Japanese invasion during WW II. I eagerly awaited delivery of the four volumes a year and gulped them down cover to cover as soon as they arrived. I'm listing the books in two volumes: Summer Reader’s Digest 1960 when I was a highschool freshman: The Lovely Ambition - Mary Ellen Chase, Trustee from the Toolroom - Nevil Shute, The Leopard - Giuseppe di Lampedusa, Village of Stars - Paul Stanton, To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee. The second volume is from 1961: The Winter of Our Discontent - John Steinbeck, The Agony and the Ecstasy - Irving Stone, The Making of the President, 1960 - Theodore H. White, "A Lodging for the Emperor" (Japanese Inn) - Oliver Statler, Goodbye, Mr. Chips - James Hilton. Many of therse stories led me to read the origninal work or other works by the same author. Without them I would never have been introduced to such a broad stroke of writing styles and stories.

Perhaps I was just lucky that we didn’t get a television until I was in high school, or was it that my Dad valued reading so highly, or perhaps I was just blessed with an avid curiosity. I was certainly blest to have learned that in books you could be anyone, go anywhere, do anything. What were your favorite authors or titles? Where did they take you? What did they inspire you to do?