BookGiveaway:
Joan is offering Book 1 of the Legacy of Honor Series, GIULIA GOES TO WAR, to one randomly chosen winner who leaves a comment for Joan. The winner will be announced here on Friday, September 19th, between 5-6 PM EST. To be entered in the Giveaway, please leave your contact information within your comment. Thanks!
Excerpt from Book 3, A BOWL OF RICE:
A BOWL OF RICE by Joan Leotta
Pittsburgh,
May 7, 1970
"Hell no,
we won't go! Hell no, we won't go!" They kept chanting the phrase,
repeating it with more ferocity and fist pumping at each shout. Anna Maria
snaked her way through the crowd of angry college students, some of whom were
standing on the sidewalk. Most were standing and sitting in the middle of Fifth
Avenue, blocking traffic. She ducked into the Pitt bookstore just as two
mounted policemen rode down to the edge of the crowd and maneuvered their
horses to try to move the students out of the street. Even though she had seen
a student swipe at a patrolman who was monitoring the crowd on foot, no one
seemed willing to possibly hurt a horse and so the crowd began to roll back
onto the sidewalk like an ebbing tide.
Anna Maria watched
it all for a few minutes through the plate glass windows of the bookstore. Then
she sighed and ran down the stairs to the lower level where the nursing books
were kept. She had heard that a paperback copy of her favorite nursing
reference was now available and wanted to take that lighter version with her to
Vietnam, thereby shaving a few ounces of weight from her already overstuffed
and heavy suitcase.
When she had
descended the steps she looked around for someone to help her find the book.
Signs for various disciplines and studies were absent from their usual places
at the end of each stack of shelves. "Probably took them for the
demonstration," Anna Maria mumbled to herself. She sat down on a stepstool
by the first set of shelves.
She decided to
rest there for a few moments while she collected herself. Reflecting on the
previous week, Anna Maria sank deeper into her thoughts. What a strange and busy week it had been, she mused. Michael had
decided to avoid Vietnam by defecting to Canada. Meanwhile, she was studying
for finals in the program that would take her to Vietnam as a nurse. The program that, that WILL take me to
Vietnam as a nurse, she corrected herself. I can't let Michael's
decision affect me that way.
A salesgirl
walked by. She didn't speak to Anna Maria although she frowned at her as she
glanced her way. So, she noticed me,
Anna Maria thought, as the girl walked around the corner of another stack of
books, but did not call out to her. She
probably thinks I'm crazy or maybe she thinks I'm just resting here to get away
from the demonstrations outside. Maybe I am. After all, I could've bought that
book at any time.
Anna Maria
looked at her watch. It was only an hour until she was supposed to meet Michael
to discuss his plans. She wondered if he would be on time or not. She imagined
that he was in the thick of the demonstration and had either burned his draft
card already or was running to meet the mounted policemen. Michael was always
in the midst of the trouble. Anna Maria smiled ruefully to herself. No, she corrected herself. Michael is always the one instigating the
trouble. She had to admit that it was nearly impossible to correct Michael.
Even his professors had a hard time denying him. His sparkling blue eyes, coal
black curly hair, and lop-sided grin were hard to refuse. That grin of
straight, even teeth illuminated the room around him and acted as a magnet,
pulling everyone deep into his soul and definitely into his orbit.
Where the
Magic Happens by Joan Leotta
A childhood friend came to visit and wanted to see
my office—which at the present time I am not even using for my writing but
instead, as a sort of a storage area. A messy one. Projects for story
performance (my other and complementary career) ring the floor. Books spill out
from bookcases. My file cabinets are full and there are stacks of papers on my
desk.
I now work in the living room. Although papers
surround the little area around my fave place to sit and work on the laptop, the
mess is deceptive. However, the important information for each project is
carefully tucked into computer folders and or actual folders at my work area.
Books that I have to review and books for pleasure reading are also out here.
Books I have read and have not yet given away are in the "office."
The printer is in the office. Right now, my WIP is the fourth novel of my series with Desert Breeze Publishing and I am late, thanks to being sick for a lot of days, research difficulties, plot rewrite, and bouts of eye strain as I try to hit a goal of 3k per day just on that project.
But the magic does not occur in either place because the writer's mojo needs to come from within. There is no right (pun intended) style or place to write. Rather, the power that infuses the pen or keyboard runs in a direct line from the mind and heart.
Don’t get hung up on where and how and when you
write. Just write!
Be Timely and Write Daily. Being late for a project
is anathema to me. Very embarrassing. I'm a journalist and I put out a lot of
words on projects that help pay for my other writing—associations, meetings,
conferences, etc. If I did not meet those deadlines I would not be a writer.
Fiction can be put on a deadline basis too—as can
poetry. It's not as easy for me to block out those, but let me tell you, the
"magic" is also something that comes when you exercise it daily.
Don’t wait for a muse to ask you to dance. Get out there and boogie along your
keyboard daily. Trust lazy little me. It’s the only way. Often I use words with
friends to rev up my brain or I edit a piece of short fiction or poetry to
jump-start the process.
On days when I am traveling or have houseguests and cannot sit down for a long spell of writing, I try to compose in my head. Or maybe I jot down the first draft of a short poem. Or maybe I simply rewrite something. Or I hunt for future assignments and write query letters. Or look for contests (deadline!) to enter.
Reading for pleasure is not the same as writing. Reading books on writing is not the same as writing, but I do allow that to sometime eat into my writing time.
Marketing my writing also takes time. Sales of
books do not happen by themselves. Again, the only "magic" on my part
is hard work.
So, does that sound dreary to you? I hope not? Because
I find it exhilarating! Yes, I truly enjoy the process of applying word to
paper. I like to see my work in print and online. I like to see others do well
in their writing.
Why Publish? When I write, I want to share what I've
created, hoping it will entertain, educate and encourage someone else. That's
why I publish. And when someone reads what I've written or enjoys a performance
I offer of my original tales, the positive audience reaction, the interaction
of their hearts and minds with my work—that IS magic.
Joan's Ah-hahs To Tweet:
Everyone has a story: Author Joan Leotta shares secret
of writing mojo. (Tweet This)
#BookGiveaway of GIULIA GOES TO WAR by Joan Leotta,
Legacy of Honor Series. (Tweet This)
Author's Bio:
Joan
Leotta has been playing with words with writing and performing since childhood.
Her "motto" is "encouraging words through pen and
performance." Her award-winning poetry, short stories, books and articles
have appeared in many journals, magazines and newspapers. She performs folklore
and one-woman shows on historic figures in schools libraries, museums and at
festivals. Joan lives in Calabash, NC with husband Joe.
Places to connect with Joan:
