I am thrilled to guest post today! I thought I would talk a little about the way I write and how I worked out Finding Alice.
I use a program called Dragon Naturally Speaking. The idea of speaking to my computer and it actually understanding me was difficult to grasp let alone to consider using!
I love to write long hand, the feeling of lead crushing on a page or the ink leaking from the pen with a flick of your wrist. If my hands would let me I would sit and write for days on end without sleep.
My process is simple; I do what feels right when I write. I start with long hand almost always. I sit somewhere comfortable maybe a coffee house and write until I can’t write any more. Once my story has begun and truly has somewhere to go I usually turn to my computer. I type much faster then I write and I am more likely to get more done before my hands and wrists begin to protest.
This is the messiest part of my writing. I usually create a timeline of the book with the things I would like to happen and the order for which I would like them to. In my Finding Alice folder there is hundreds of post it notes, stray papers, receipts covered with ideas all over them, timelines and old versions.
software you ask? Well sometimes while
I’m writing the first draft. I throw the headset and microphone on lean back in
my chair, close my eyes and just tell my computer a story. I find that the more
I use it the less errors occur. I also had it learn all of my previous
documents so it learned my writing style. (Yes it can do that.)
time to use the Dragon software is during revisions. I always print my first
draft. I love my computer but machines are fickle and I am not losing my entire
manuscript on a malfunction so I print for safety and sanity. During revisions
I sit comfy and read my most recent and edited version to the computer in a
completely new document. This way I can read it in my head and out loud and
change it easily by telling the software to, “delete last line” or “scratch
that.” To me this cuts down on my revision time. I’m more likely to make big
necessary changes right off the bat this way.
Finding Alice (Alice Clark Series, #1)
raised in Michigan, she still resided there with her son. Andrea has always
been a writer at heart. Over the last decade she has written, starred and
directed in many screenplays. She recently in the last few years decided to
venture in writing novels. She hasn’t looked back since, giving
it her full attention. She is very excited to share
the wonderful words she creates, with the world.
Book Title – Finding Alice
Alice is cursed with
an intense version of empathy; she runs from a wasted life to start a new one
somewhere no one will know her, Hell, Michigan. Alice works at a
hole-in-the-wall bar in the middle of nowhere mostly keeping to herself to
avoid the overwhelming emotions of those around her. Alice allows her best
friend to convince her into taking a few college classes without realizing it
would drastically change her life forever. From her first day of class she was
hooked on him; his scent, his eyes, the way he talked to her inside her head.
Throughout her struggles she learns about true
love, true pain and the truth of her own heritage. Alice must quickly find out
who she is because after all everyone else is out to find her. With Angels and
Bounty Hunter’s in constant pursuit she finds protection within a group of
Fallen Angels. These Fallen Angels vow to do anything to protect her; for it is
their belief she will save their kind and all of mankind.
Click below for excerpts:
town to town for a short while, working random jobs just to pay for my next
move, until I found a place that felt like home. It was a really odd feeling
for me, never having felt that before, but this place just drew me in like a
magnet. This, for most people, would seem like lunacy. No sane person chooses
convinced the owner to hire me. By “convince,” I mean I played him in a game of
pool for it. He was actually pretty good—must come from owning your own bar—but
I hustled him. I’ve been working there for over a year now. I spend most of my
day reading or drawing, and sometimes I work extra shifts just to pass the
She was absolutely stunning to look at. She had brown hair with highlights that
looked golden and her skin was pale but flawless. Her legs looked longer than
they were due to her overly short shorts and the tower of heels she wore. She
definitely didn’t belong in a bar like this but just the same, she loved it
here. She went to a community college and came here to get away. She says she
works better with a few drinks in her. Somehow she convinced me that I should
go back to school, that I was too antisocial and needed to get out of this town
every once in a while to mingle with real people, or something like that. I
used to just laugh at her, but I began deeply considering it.
fight a few months back. An overly large biker came and challenged one of our
regular drunks to a game of pool. I’m assuming it was for a decent chunk of
change, because when he lost to Jake, he almost killed him. There I was minding
my own business at the bar when this giant ass of man pulled out a pistol.
Camille flew out of her seat, attempting to run toward the door, but this guy
shifted his aim at her, stopping her dead in her tracks. Jake just stood there
blank, refusing to give in to him, pushing Camille behind him protectively. I
heard the click as the biker readied his gun. Next thing I knew, I was standing
next to him with his gun in my hand, pressed against his cheek.
ass out of my bar?” I barely recognized my cold voice leaving my lips.
watched her eyes busily recalculating the last few seconds. I felt all the
other patrons watch in terror. He spit on the floor, threw his hands up and
left. Jake let out a sigh of relief and hugged me, flashing one of those “Way
to make me feel like a pussy” grins. I pushed away from the hug quickly and
noticed Camille leaning toward a single black feather on the ground. I snatched
it up and stuffed it into my pocket. I watched for her reaction but she didn’t
Camille never asked me how I got there so quickly, how I grabbed the gun
without anyone seeing me actually do it. That is why we are such good friends.
Well, that and she is so rational, I don’t have to deal with her emotions
overloading my mind. I couldn’t explain it to her even if I wanted to. I
couldn’t even explain it to myself.
like fruit. I rubbed my eyes, attempting to see. I looked at the sky; it
bounced with shades of purple, red, and dark gray. It was gorgeous and I was
obviously dreaming. I walked through this large, empty field, feeling the
warmth of the day on my skin slowly evaporate. I could hear what sounded like
voices coming from the dark woods in front of me on the other side of this
amber field. It’s a dream. It’s safe to
check it out. I walked toward the blackness and trees, glancing back at the
field behind me that was well-lit from the sun setting. I stood on the edge of
the woods line, debating my entrance and my sanity at that particular moment.
“It’s not real,” I said to reassure myself. I entered the woods, cautiously at
first. The voices grew loud enough that I could almost make out what they were
saying, but there were so many, the words were tangling together. My head began
to ache and I turned to run back, but I couldn’t figure out which way was back
any longer. I picked up the pace until the voices were roaring in my head. I
started into a full-on sprint, running through the darkness and barely able to
see a foot in front of me, trusting myself not to run straight into a tree.
voice was coming from and ran straight toward it. I felt the warmth on the back
of my neck. It was not the same as before. This felt haunting. Concentrating, I
singled in on one voice in particular. “Keep going,” he said. I was moving so
steadfastly, I felt as if I was floating through the air. My feet came to a
dead halt when the smell of sand and freshwater climbed up my nose. I made it. I looked out to the water and
saw the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I stared in
amazement as the moon beamed off of his toned torso, so elegant. In one
glorious flex, these incredible charcoal wings escaped his back. I gasped in
complete silence but he didn’t even notice me. They extended at least five feet
in each direction. Each feather twitched as if they were filled with
his eyes piercing almost into my soul. I closed my eyes and breathed in his
Part of me was relieved it was a dream. The other part of me was yearning for
it to have been real. I rubbed my head in frustration and reached out in a full
body stretch. My arms flopped to my sides; I dragged them back up to my pillow
and felt the softest touch against my skin. My eyes fully adjusted to the
darkness and searched the space around me. My entire bed was now covered in
twirled my hands through them and fell back asleep.
I walked up my driveway without a memory of the drive itself. I walked in,
locking the door and shoving the table in front of it. I stumbled up the
stairs, first aid kit under my arm, while juggling three bottles of vodka in my
bashed up hands.
I turned the shower on and climbed in with the vodka. I slowly started peeling
off my blood-soaked clothes, flinching, wishing I was numb. I poured a little
vodka on my body wounds and down my face in between chugging some to deaden the
pain. I opened the second bottle, doing more drinking than cleaning. I looked
down at myself and found bruises starting to form on almost every inch of my
body. Head to toe, my skin was covered with blacks and purples, reminding me of
my box of feathers. Tears filled my eyes and for the first time in my entire
life, they were my own. I sat curled up on the floor of my shower, wishing the
salt I was tasting was from the scent of ocean that radiated from Cole. I
drowned it out with more vodka.
I spent the next day in bed, coddling
my last bottle of vodka. Camille called several times to see if I was working.
Her last text message read, Are you okay? Max called me and said some anonymous
caller called the cops and said they saw two guys break into the bar and then
kick the crap out of each other in the parking lot. Max is freaking out. Call
me. I’m worried. I ignored them all. Max called a few times as well. I texted
him back with, See you Thursday. He replied with an Okay and left it at that.
Around four am, I dragged myself out of bed. I walked to my front door to find
it still covered with furniture, as if an intruder couldn’t get past it. I
clutched the most recent bottle of vodka I had become so attached to and
finally set it down. I struggled to push the furniture to the side and opened
the door. I love the smell of four am. I walked cautiously to my car to pull
out my art supplies. I attempted to ignore the giant dent while painfully
dragging my supplies in the house. Just to be safe, I returned the furniture to
its spot in front of the door, snatching the vodka before taking off for the
I dumped everything onto the floor
and dug through it for my iPod. I plugged it into my stereo system and cranked
it up, loud enough to feel the vibrations rush through me. I reached down,
almost collapsing in agony, to grab my charcoal. There were no canvases left in
the house so I shoved my extra couch away from the wall and started rubbing the
charcoal onto the wall. Music, vodka, and art were not a cure, but they soothed