Thank you, Layne, for having me!
Welcome to my
Quick Tips Blog Tour. I’ve put together ten short, easy writing tips to share.
Follow my tour to see them all. Tour stops will be posted on my website: http://booksbymsk.com/?page_id=616
Quick Tip 3:
When I wrote the
first draft of my first book, I could not for the life of me make the
descriptions strong enough. It took a while, but I finally realized what most
writers know: adjectives are simply not good enough sometimes (a lot of the
time).
Finally, finally,
I discovered the power of metaphor and simile.
Consider the
following sentences:
“It was under a
massive, ancient oak, the kind with craggy arms that pushed its blanket of
leaves toward the sky.”
“It was under a
massive, ancient oak with thick limbs and canopy.”
By creating
metaphors and comparing the limbs to arms and the canopy to a blanket, the
image becomes stronger, more powerful. And it creates a certain emotion. The
image of a blanket brings a sense of comfort and making the limbs arms
personifies the oak and makes it feel like a guardian of those below,
protecting them with a thick blanket of leaves.
Read Kindling the Past to find out whose
grave is under the ancient oak…
Kindling the Past
by M.S. Kaye
Kindle is
fighting to survive on her own, to break free from her possessive and violent
ex-boyfriend, and trying not to let her best friend, Anna, know she’s in love
with her husband. Most of all, she fights the visions she sees of the past—she
doesn’t believe in that kind of stuff.
Then Anna is
shot and killed.
In their
grief, Kindle and Ty, Anna’s husband and Kindle’s Taekwondo instructor, grow
closer. Although Kindle is careful never to let him too close, he helps her
learn to accept that her visions are real. Eventually, the truth about Anna’s
death breaks through into Kindle’s visions, and she must find a way not to let
it destroy her.
Author Bio:
M.S. Kaye has several published books under her black belt. A
transplant from Ohio, she resides with her husband, Corey, in Jacksonville,
Florida, where she tries not to melt in the sun. Find suspense and the unusual
at www.BooksByMSK.com.
Contact M. S. Kaye at:
Excerpt:
Prologue
I fought the visions. My mother used to
tell me my expression turned stupid when I had them, but I didn’t care about
that so much anymore. I hated when the visions were true somehow, actual bits
of the past. I didn’t believe in that kind of stuff.
Chapter 1: Fight
“She’s such a snob,” one of the young women whispered on the other
side of the locker room.
I stayed faced away, trying not to hear their gossip. I tugged my
jeans on and pulled my shirt over my head. When I glanced in the mirror to fix
my hair, I barely saw the dark brown framing my fair skin—only the way the
other girls looked at me. I bent over to pick up my shoes.
“The guys don’t even ask her out because she’s so stuck up.”
I didn’t understand why they thought like this about me, but I
didn’t much care anyway. As soon as I had my shoes on, I threw my gear bag over
my shoulder and walked out.
Master Trahem was on the workout floor sparring with Mr. Schmidt.
Master Trahem’s uniform was starting to come open, and sweat glistened on his
well-built chest.
I looked away.
“Bye, Kindle,” Mrs. Trahem said as I passed the front counter. “See
you tomorrow.”
I smiled at her, one of the few people I reserved my genuine smile
for. She was a big part of the reason I came in early to help every day, her
and her atrocious typing skills. She always held her fingers above the keys
like a fisherman wielding a spear, as if expecting them to squirm out from
under her aim.
But honestly, helping with data entry was just an excuse—Mrs. Trahem
was the best person I’d ever known, and I felt calmer when I was around her.
“You’ll be there early, right?” Mrs. Trahem added. She tucked her silky
dark hair behind her ear. There was a grace to her movement. No wonder Master
Trahem had married her so quickly. At twenty-nine, she was a few years older
than me but looked just as young.
“Definitely.” Then I kept walking. Before I gave into the urge to
turn and watch Master Trahem.
The girls from the locker room followed me out into the parking lot.
I sat in my car and started the engine.
While I drove the forty-five minutes home, I fought to stay awake.
At least traffic at nine-thirty at night was thin. I always missed rush hour. I
left my apartment before six every morning and didn’t return until after ten.
Being tired felt normal.
As I pulled up to my building, I examined each car. I knew to whom
each of them belonged, as well as half my neighbors’ friends’ cars. The girl
across the hall traded boyfriends every week. She drove me nuts.
I had no way of knowing what Chris was driving. I had to know which
cars were supposed to be here in order to know if there was a new one. Most of
my neighbors drove beaters like me, and Chris had always liked something
flashy. But with him, I couldn’t depend on consistency. He was smart.
I recognized all the cars tonight. I parked under the streetlight
and kept the door locked while I pulled my gear bag onto my lap and slipped the
strap over my shoulder. Keys ready, I jumped out of the car and jogged up the
steps. I hated apartment buildings in Florida. The halls were open, no security
doors to block unwanted visitors from knocking on your front door, from lurking
in shadowy corners.
Within about ten seconds, I was up the stairs, down the hall, and at
my door. Just being able to move quickly without running out of breath was
worth the cost of Taekwondo classes. I felt more confident, less scared.
My door unlocked, I glanced down the hall one more time then slipped
inside. I closed the door, locked it, and flipped the lights.
I was not alone.
He was right there, tall, thick, and blond as always. I was seeing
as clearly as if through acid. I blinked to make sure he was really there. I
always did that. It was stupid.
Chris was always there.
