Jude-Marie Green

OUTLINE A NOVEL!   Join me on my breathless attempt to actually plot a 100k word novel rather than pants it out. Will I succeed? Will I fall on my (haha) pants?  Even I don't know!

The project is CHANGES, a Clarion West 2010 short story (written during the Ellen Datlow week) that is honestly a novel first chapter. I have reached out the development editor Rebecca Inch-Patridge for advice and guidance and I fully expect this story to sizzle off the page. Maybe literally: it is set in Los Angeles during Fire Season. 

GINAMARIE (Ginmar) is a werewolf being hounded (haha) by the utterly incompetent Van Helsings, who are not associated with or even aware of the multitude of other Van Helsing societies. Because of their bumbling she has been targeted by the UM Group, a much more competent agency that wants her skills for their nefarious purposes. And all Ginmar wants is to live peacefully with her cats and occasionally worship the moon. That, and to figure out why, in her dreams, she has wings. 

I don't get the money you donate but it does benefit Clarion West. I attended in 2010 and met amazing authors among my coworkshoppers (Mike Alexander, KC Ball, Zander Odell, Cassandra Clarke, Jack Graham, among others) and industry professionals that tutored me up and polished me down. 

Support this good cause and encourage my novelling. 

Thank you.

(that profile is a piece of art that I created for the new cover of my first collection, GLORIOUS MADNESS.  My second collection, WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, is also available on Amazon.)

Methodology

By Jude-Marie Green

    "For christ's sakes." I shrugged my irritation away. "Let's try it again."

    Moody sat on the cold sidewalk, the denuded flower stalk in his hand, a tear in his eye.

    "She doesn't love me!"

    I handed him another daisy, yellow and fresh-snipped from the decorative hedge behind us.

    "Like this." I held up my own daisy, slightly damp with - no, not dew, not here, but water from the sprinklers. I pulled a petal from the flower.

    "She loves me."

    I pulled out another petal.

    "She adores me."

    Another.

    "She thinks the world of me." Pluck. "She's never known anyone as smart as me." Pluck. "She loves me." Pluck. "She knows that I love her." Pluck. "I love her." Pluck. "She loves me."

    A drift of petals decorated my left shoe. I kicked them away.

    "You see," I told him, my friend, the newly-hopeful Moody, "love is what you make it."

The End

Just a little doggerel, a poem, an ode (actually probably none of these, I'm not up on poemics) about the dog in my house.

DRAWING LILLY

If I could draw that dog I'd

limn her sweet and straight,

Eyes waiting always waiting

For a scritch or a pat or a

GOOD DOG

Pyramid ears while playing

Purse ears relaxing

Right paw on my arm, making contact

Be with me, see me, I'm a

GOOD GIRL

Shed hair on every surface

Wafting through the air

I'm sneezing and she's shaking out

Flechettes of fur everywhere and 

Because it's Lilly, it's

GOOD

I've sold a lot of short fiction  Here's the list I just put together to join SFWA: (it's not close to exhaustive. I was, after I put together this list.)