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Today it’s my pleasure to welcome over author Giovanna Lagana, author of Begotten, Book One in The Forsaken Prophecies. So grab your favorite cuppa, relax and not only learn more about this fascinating book but read about Giovanna's thoughts on writing.
Genre: Paranormal romantic suspense
Mystery/Thriller
ASIN: B00H0M7PLI
Number of pages: 324
Word Count: 78280
Cover Artist: Ghislain Mallet
GIVEAWAY! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post for a chance to win. Prizes include a $40 Amazon Gift Card and five eCopies of Begotten.
Book Description
In the blink of an eye Megan Johnson’s perfect life turns into a nightmare. Her beloved husband mysteriously dies in a car crash and her fourteen-year-old son, Tristan, runs away with a diabolical cult leader named Vincent Hellion. Her world is spiraling to destruction. She leans on her husband’s best friend, Rhett Foster, for support and help. But when feelings she thought she never had for Rhett begin to surface and unknown psychic powers possess her, she becomes more confused than ever. She tries to push her feelings for Rhett aside and focus on her visions to save her son before it’s too late.
Rhett Foster has loved Megan for so long. But he never confessed his feelings to her because his best friend was her husband. Now that her husband is dead, he struggles with his conscience. Should he tell Megan how he really feels or should he honor his best friend's memory?
Megan's desperate quest to find and free her son sets them both on a path of love, danger, and renewal. If they return, their lives will be changed forever.
Do you see writing as an art or a discipline? I’d say it’s both. But for each author one aspect is more dominant than the other. Once you’ve determined which it is, then you can focus on that and move forward. For me when I was starting out, I saw writing only as an art, not a discipline. It was a means of release for my thoughts and emotions; an escape from all the stress. My stories or poems were my canvases. My mediums weren’t pastels or oil paints, but my imagination and my mind’s eye.
But as I grew as an author, my writing turned into a discipline. I no longer wrote for the sole purpose of creative release. I wanted to make a career out of it. Unfortunately when you as a writer come to a crossroad in your life and take the route of making writing a discipline that means you need to devote most of your day to it. Which also means that you need to write prolifically and can’t afford to get writer’s block.
Getting writer’s block is an author’s nightmare. I suffer from it often, especially with new stories I’m working on. I’ve tried almost anything to get rid of it, but end up just putting the story aside and starting a new one and if it takes off, I’m ecstatic. If it doesn’t, I get cranky. I put it aside and start another hoping this time it’ll get written.
I have so many stories I started and stopped stored in my junk Word folder, I’m too scared to count. It’ll only stress me, because I loved each and every one of those premises and the artist in me wants to see what started in my imagination and in my mind’s eye transported to my canvas and into a completed story. But I try not to harp on those canvases stuck in limbo or I’ll stress myself out. Are other authors like me? Are you?
I guess every author feels like I do. He/she wants to see every one of their premises turned into a completed story. Some writers have gone to great lengths to keep writer’s block at bay. For instance, Honoré de Balzac would wake up at 1:00 in the morning and work until 8:00 a.m., take a short nap and start writing again until 4:00 p.m. John Milton had the Bible read to him daily for inspiration. And Dan Brown works in hourly intervals doing push ups in-between to recharge.
I haven’t gone to these great lengths to avoid writer’s block. Maybe if I did, then perhaps more if not all of my past stories would have been written. My New Year’s resolution is to zap writer’s block once and for all. I know, it’s a harrowing feat, but maybe this time, I’ll get it right. My plan is to hide in a no Wi-Fi distraction zone, once I’m fully awake and caffeinated. I’m going to actually write my detailed outlines and each chapter on paper, like I used to do years ago before I turned writing into a discipline. Then once each chapter is completed on paper, I’ll type it out in the afternoon or early evening. I hope this will be the ultimate remedy for me. Please wish me luck. I’ll need it. :)
How about you? What writing habits have you or will you incorporate in your daily ritual as a disciplined writer in order to be inspired and more productive?
Writing: A Discipline or an Art
Do you see writing as an art or a discipline? I’d say it’s both. But for each author one aspect is more dominant than the other. Once you’ve determined which it is, then you can focus on that and move forward. For me when I was starting out, I saw writing only as an art, not a discipline. It was a means of release for my thoughts and emotions; an escape from all the stress. My stories or poems were my canvases. My mediums weren’t pastels or oil paints, but my imagination and my mind’s eye.
But as I grew as an author, my writing turned into a discipline. I no longer wrote for the sole purpose of creative release. I wanted to make a career out of it. Unfortunately when you as a writer come to a crossroad in your life and take the route of making writing a discipline that means you need to devote most of your day to it. Which also means that you need to write prolifically and can’t afford to get writer’s block.
Getting writer’s block is an author’s nightmare. I suffer from it often, especially with new stories I’m working on. I’ve tried almost anything to get rid of it, but end up just putting the story aside and starting a new one and if it takes off, I’m ecstatic. If it doesn’t, I get cranky. I put it aside and start another hoping this time it’ll get written.
I have so many stories I started and stopped stored in my junk Word folder, I’m too scared to count. It’ll only stress me, because I loved each and every one of those premises and the artist in me wants to see what started in my imagination and in my mind’s eye transported to my canvas and into a completed story. But I try not to harp on those canvases stuck in limbo or I’ll stress myself out. Are other authors like me? Are you?
I guess every author feels like I do. He/she wants to see every one of their premises turned into a completed story. Some writers have gone to great lengths to keep writer’s block at bay. For instance, Honoré de Balzac would wake up at 1:00 in the morning and work until 8:00 a.m., take a short nap and start writing again until 4:00 p.m. John Milton had the Bible read to him daily for inspiration. And Dan Brown works in hourly intervals doing push ups in-between to recharge.
I haven’t gone to these great lengths to avoid writer’s block. Maybe if I did, then perhaps more if not all of my past stories would have been written. My New Year’s resolution is to zap writer’s block once and for all. I know, it’s a harrowing feat, but maybe this time, I’ll get it right. My plan is to hide in a no Wi-Fi distraction zone, once I’m fully awake and caffeinated. I’m going to actually write my detailed outlines and each chapter on paper, like I used to do years ago before I turned writing into a discipline. Then once each chapter is completed on paper, I’ll type it out in the afternoon or early evening. I hope this will be the ultimate remedy for me. Please wish me luck. I’ll need it. :)
How about you? What writing habits have you or will you incorporate in your daily ritual as a disciplined writer in order to be inspired and more productive?
Excerpt
Megan closed the door and leaned on it. She began to cry. Fatigue and the doctor’s words took their toll on her.
Rhett hugged her and caressed her long hair. “You heard what the doctor said? Tristan is going to be all right.”
She sniffled. “But what if he gets worse? Mark and he were so close. He lost his whole world a few days ago.”
“He still has you,” Rhett said.
“Yeah, but what if he doesn’t let me in? What if he won’t let me help him and support him? He’s a teenager now, Rhett. At his age, who knows how he will react.”
Rhett stared into her eyes, which she knew were watery, red, and puffy. “Then I’m here. Granted, my relationship with Tristan isn’t anywhere as close as his relationship had been with his dad, but we are still close. If he won’t confide in you, then I’ll try. The kid is tough. You and Mark hit the jackpot with him. He’ll be okay.”
“I hope you’re right, Rhett.”
He pulled out a compact pouch of tissues from his suit pocket. “Here you go.”
She smiled, wiped her teary eyes, and jokingly said, “Thanks, do you have any mascara in there, too?”
He put his hand in his pocket to check. “No, just a small lint remover. Care to use it?”
They both laughed at his joke. Then Megan felt a twinge of guilt for experiencing a happy emotion when she buried her husband just a few hours before. She turned serious. “Why is it that you always know what to say or do? It’s like you can read my mind.”
He smiled as he raised his left eyebrow. “That’s because we’ve known each other almost all our lives.”
“That’s true. There’s nothing we don’t know about each other. We have no secrets. You’re like the big brother I always wanted.”
Looking up into the air, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I know. You always say that.”
“But it’s true. You’ve always been there for me, and for Mark.” A yawn escaped her lips. “What am I thinking right now?”
Rhett winked as he spoke. “Okay, okay, I get the hint. I’ll go now.” With genuine concern, he continued, “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes, I think I’ll go to bed early.”
He opened the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow from work. Bye.” He kissed her cheek and left.
* * * *
As Rhett closed the door behind him, he rubbed his nose. Megan’s soft locks had tickled his cheek. He could still smell her strawberry scented shampoo. He thought about what she had just said as he stood on her porch. “We have no secrets,” she’d uttered. She was wrong.
He had a secret that he kept from her all of these years. He wondered if he should ever tell her the truth. Their friendship would be at great risk if he did.
Rhett got into his car, put on the radio, and tuned it to his favorite station. The Wind Beneath My Wings was playing. He had a flashback of when he and Megan had been seventeen. They were dancing to this song at their prom.
Since they didn’t have any dates, they decided to go with each other. A smile formed on his face as he remembered how they both had two left feet. A spectacle they had made of themselves on the dance floor. Ah, the fun times they had. Megan was certainly someone special. How boring his life would have been if she had never come into it.
He drove off, vowing to protect her and her son in these troubled times. He owed it to Mark and to himself.
About the Author
Giovanna Lagana is a freelance author. Some of her short stories and poems have been featured in magazines like Tales of the Talisman, Short-Story. Me, Static Movement, and Fear and Trembling Magazine, etc.
To learn more about Giovanna and her writing, please check her website at: www.giovannalagana.com
Website: www.giovannalagana.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/G_Lagana
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2 comments:
Hi Sky,
Thanks so much for featuring my post and story on your blog. Really appreciate it. :)
Have a lovely weekend.
Giovanna
My pleasure, Giovanna! :)
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