Tag Archives: blogfest

Three questions to ask your characters (MC blogfest)

Keep collecting your favorite posts on writing for Writing Wednesday next week!

When I saw Jeannie’s guest post on author Elizabeth Mueller’s blog (another friend!), I knew I had to play along. Normally I’m reluctant to post much about my works (aside from excerpts that have done well in contests), but I’m making an exception today. It’s just three questions, right? And since I’m still working on falling back in love with my story, this seems like a fun opportunity. Plus it’s just three questions.

The character I’m playing with today is Frank Walters. He served in the Office of Strategic Services in World War II and when the story takes place, just after the war, he’s with the Central Intelligence Group (predecessor of the CIA). Physically, he’s based loosely on my husband’s grandfather Walter, who was in the Navy in WWII, pictured here. (Somehow we ended up with his WWII scrapbook. He traveled the whole world during the war, with pictures and postcards from Hawaii, Scotland, Iceland, Morocco, the South Pacific, and I know he served in Japan, too.)

And over to Frank:

What is your greatest fear?

Losing myself to the job. The peace might not be as assured as the general public would like to believe, but I’m here to keep things from falling apart again. At the same time, I need to prove something to myself—that we’ll prevail. That I’m on the right side. That we’re the right side because of our principles, and we don’t have to undermine those principles to do it.

What is your biggest accomplishment?

I don’t know. Standing up for someone who’s weak. Doing the right thing when it’s hard. It takes a lot of those little things like that to make it worth it—and just one failure to wipe it all out.

What is your biggest regret?

After the war, we had custody of a bunch of the Nazis’ POWs, including some Soviets. Some secret deal at one of the Big Three conferences included one little stipulation that we must’ve bowed to: all Soviets would be returned to the USSR.

Some of these men said they’d never even been to the Soviet Union. Some of them had come from there, and they couldn’t bear the thought of going back to the constant terror. After surviving a Nazi concentration camp, they’d be labeled as traitors and German spies. Maybe sent to Soviet labor camps. Maybe executed.

They begged us not to return them, to shoot them instead. Some of them even killed themselves before we handed them over.

But I followed orders. I sent grown men—and boys—begging, screaming and crying for mercy . . . to the slaughter.


Aaand back to me. Of these, question #3 was the only one I’d really worked on in depth before. #1 was there but this helped me refine and crystallize it a little. #2 was by far the most challenging. Isn’t that odd? Shouldn’t it be easier to think of something we’re proud of?

What do you think? What would your characters say? Which question would be hardest for you?

L is for learning style

I was digging through my archives looking for something else when I came across a post that sounded like a really interesting idea. (I can say that because it was a guest post.)

I find that I hit the same senses over and over again, and neglect the others. This happens in writing and in real life, too. I think this has a lot to do with my learning style. During our series on writing the senses last year, somehow I recruited someone with actual expertise to write about how learning styles can affect how we use our senses. Perhaps the most interesting idea is giving our characters different learning styles than we have, and tailoring their sensory experiences to their learning style.

Also beginning with L: this week’s LDS Writer Blogfest. Writers who are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) blogged about their favorite address from the latest General Conference. I participated on my other blog. Read all the participants:

Annette Lyon: “Desire”
Annie Cechini: “The Spirit of Revelation”
Ben Spendlove: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Chantele Sedgwick: “LDS Women Are Incredible!”
Charity Bradford: “LDS Women Are Incredible!”
Jackee Alston: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Jenilyn Tolley: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Jennifer McFadden: “Establishing a Christ-Centered Home”
Jessie Oliveros: “Establishing a Christ-Centered Home”
Jolene Perry: “It’s Conference Once Again”
Jordan McCollum: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Kasey Tross: “Guided by the Holy Spirit”
Kayeleen Hamblin: “Become as a Little Child”
Kelly Bryson: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Krista Van Dolzer: “Opportunities to Do Good”
Melanie Stanford: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Michelle Merrill: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Myrna Foster: “Opportunities to Do Good”
Nisa Swineford: “Desire”
Sallee Mathews: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Sierra Gardner: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Tamara Hart Heiner: “Waiting on the Road to Damascus”
The Writing Lair: “Waiting on the Road to Damascus”

St Patrick’s Day Blogfest!

Last year for St. Patrick’s Day, we dispelled some Irish myths. I learned a lot about modern Irish culture as I wrote about Irish characters. Once, they even got to be the villains—and that’s what we get to see today as part of The St. Patrick’s Day Blogfest hosted by Colene and Alexia!

In this (never ever edited and heavily compressed) excerpt, Mark is trying to find the bomb Grace and Pearse have planted on a St. Patrick’s Day parade float the night before the parade. Mark has been investigating them separately for a while, using different cover IDs with each of them (one of which is Southern).

That’s about to come back to bite him.



They could kill hundreds of people tomorrow. Thousands.

On the second row of parade floats, Mark spotted a pile of clutter in the pristine warehouse. If he found the bomb, the bomb squad could be here by the time he finished his sweep. It’d take two minutes to check. It was only a small risk.

He jogged to the toolbox and tools. They were definitely coming back. He glanced at the float. Along the bottom edge, clothespins held a few inches of long green fringe around a small, white translucent plastic cube.

They’d started installing it. Mark jammed his gun into his waistband, grabbed a flashlight from the toolbox and slid beneath the float. The wires hung there, exposed. He could end it now.

He crept from under the float, but before he moved, Mark heard a gasp behind him. He drew his gun, but a flashlight blinded him.

“Jason?” Grace.

A less experienced operative would’ve broken cover and confessed all. A better operative would play his cover even harder. “Grace, what are you doin here?”

“I should be askin’ you the same thing.”

“What’s this, then?” A man’s voice rang out behind him—Irish accent, familiar.

Pearse? Mark turned around and was again blinded by a flashlight.

“Jimmy?” Definitely Pearse.

“Now, y’all, let’s don’t go jumpin—” A blow to the back of his head cut Mark off mid-sentence.


And it gets worse. Hooray!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Romance Blogfest is on!

The Romance Blogfest is closed. Thanks to all who participated!

How to participate (and rules)
1. The theme is Love at first sight . . . or not so much. Post a first meeting between two characters who will fall for each other (even if it doesn’t look like they will at the time!).

You may write a new scene on the topic, OR you may post a scene from your WIP. [This doesn’t preclude completed works. Because, after all, no work of art is ever finished, only abandoned.]

This should be a given, but all scenes should be clean (i.e. no sex [what kind of first meet is this?], limited violence and language [again, what kind of first meet is this?]).

2. Post your scene today, and link your post back to the blogfest here so your readers can read other entries, too. (The easiest way to create the link will be to cut and paste the code for the badge below into the Edit HTML tab on your post.)

3. Add your to the Mr. Linky below. Use your name (or your name@your blog’s name, or your blog’s name), and the link to your post (i.e. http://myblog.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-post.html) and NOT your blog (i.e. http://myblog.blogspot.com).

4. Read, enjoy, and comment on other entries! Scroll down (or up if you’re in a feed reader) to see mine and use the list of links to find others’!

Want the badge? Copy this and paste it in the HTML of a blog post or your sidebar:

<a href="http://jordanmccollum.com/romance-blogfest/" title="Romance Blogfest. Photo by José Carlos Norte" style="text-decoration: none;"><img src="http://i192.photobucket.com/albums/z41/MamaBlogga/airomance.png" width="300" alt="romance blogfest badge" /></a>

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Sign up here!

Use your name (or your name@your blog’s name, or your blog’s name), and the link to your post (i.e. http://myblog.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-post.html) and NOT your blog (i.e. http://myblog.blogspot.com).

(If you signed up on the announcement post, please add the link directly to your post here on this new Mr. Linky! Your link is still up on the announcement page.)

  1. Jordan McCollum
  2. Nichole Giles
  3. Joyce DiPastena
  4. Carol J. Garvin
  5. Tamara Hart Heiner
  6. Canda Mortensen
  7. Rachel Rossano
  8. Don Carey
  9. Krista Lynne Jensen
  10. Rebecca Shelley
  11. Gail Zuniga
  12. Heather Justesen
  13. Angie
  14. Lisa Asanuma
  15. Christine Bryant
  16. RaShelle Workman
  17. Carolyn Frank
  18. Danyelle Ferguson
  19. Rebecca Blevins
  20. Regina Andrews
  21. Andrew Rosenberg
  22. ali
  23. C. Michelle Jefferies
  24. Debbie Davis
  25. Robbin Peterson
  26. Marsha Ward
  27. Marta O. Smith
  28. Andrew Williams
  29. Erica aka Mightymouse
  30. Sharon Gerlach

Stay tuned for our series on emotion in writing!

Blogfest badge photo by José Carlos Norte

Love at first sight (or not so much)

It’s the Romance Blogfest! The official post should immediately follow this one.

For the Romance Blogfest, I knew exactly what scene I wanted to share: the original opening scene from the manuscript I’m now calling Saints and Spies. This is now my fifth published novel, Saints & Spies!

This is kind of a deleted scene: I decided it would be better from the heroine’s POV. Now it’s the third scene of the manuscript. You can see how it’s changed in the excerpt from the award-winning first chapter (it’s now the third scene).

Please note this is basically an unedited rough draft! And I’m resisting the urge to polish it. *tic*tic*tic*


Zach took a deep breath of the musty air of the small church. It was nothing like the chapels he was used to, of course, but he had act like this was his new home.

“Father?” A woman’s voice came from behind him. Dublin accent. Zach closed his eyes for a moment, briefly reveling in the once-familiar sound, before realizing she was addressing him.

“Yes, my child?” He turned around and found the most beautiful Irish woman he’d ever seen—and that was saying a lot, considering he’d lived in Ireland for two years.

As if they knew exactly how to tempt him.

“You’re Father O’Leary?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise, and her expression showed off her deep blue eyes.

“I am.”

“Oh, but you’re so . . . young.”

Zach smiled sheepishly. “Some of us heed the call earlier than others.” He tried to keep his expression unchanged as he scrambled to remember how long seminary was supposed to last.

Four years after college. So at twenty-eight, he was not only a menace to society but also old enough to be a Catholic priest. Of course, he’d only spent two weeks in seminary. Unless you counted four years of early morning seminary in high school.

Somehow, he didn’t think that would count for this parishioner. “And what was your name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, how silly of me. I’m Molly.”

“Pleased to meet you, Molly.” Zach offered her a hand and she shook it. This would probably be easier than the mission. After all, as a priest, he could still hug members of the opposite sex.

Then again, that might not be any easier. And he’d been home from the mission for seven years. This mission might well be completely different.

“Now, Molly, is there something I can help you with?”

Molly laughed and Zach couldn’t help but smile in return. “I believe I should be askin’ you that—I’m the parish secretary.”

“Oh, good—I guess this is all a little new to me still.” Understatement of the year, at least.

That was probably enough of the commentary on how weird it was to be a Mormon—and an FBI agent—posing as a Catholic priest. If all he could do was think about how funny this really was, he was never going to take this mission seriously.

“Well, what would you like to see first?”

Zach glanced at the suitcase at his feet. “I suppose the rectory would be a good place to start—there is a rectory, right?”

“There is.” She smiled again, but her smile quickly faded as if she were suddenly self-conscious. Zach realized he was returning her smile with perhaps a bit too much charm. He wasn’t supposed to be flirting with her, no matter how pretty she was. He was a Catholic priest now.

And he wasn’t Zach Saint, either. He was Father Tim O’Leary. For now.

“Have you spoken with Father Fitzgerald yet?” Molly asked as she led Zach to the rectory.

“No, I’d only just gotten here when you found me.”

“We’ll introduce you.”

Molly opened the front door to the rectory—unlocked, naturally—and admitted Zach. The living area wasn’t much, but it was better than any apartment he’d had on the mission.

“Be sure to let me know what you’ll be wantin’ for your meals.”

Zach turned back to Molly, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, are you the cook, too?” He belatedly turned down the level of flirtatiousness in his smile.

“Well, in a manner of speakin’.”

“Is that really in your job description?”

Molly shrugged. “Father Patrick says—said,” she corrected herself, glancing down a moment as if to memorialize the slain priest, “that it was more important that he and Father Fitzgerald tend to their ministries than spend their time cookin’ and cleanin’.”

“You clean the rectory, too?”

She smiled shyly and looked away.

“Molly, you won’t—you don’t need to do that for us. For me, anyway.”

She nodded and changed the subject. “Father Fitzgerald’s mobile phone number is by the phone.” She pointed to the kitchen wall where the telephone hung. “And the desk number. Just call me if you’ll be needin’ anythin’.”

“That I will.” Zach glanced back at her, but she was already gone.

Focus. It wasn’t like he’d never had to work with a pretty girl on a mission.

Granted, he’d never had to work with a pretty Irish girl.


Read the rest of the Romance Blogfest entries!

Romance Blogfest Coming Up!

Ready to participate? Sign up here!

Just so you have no excuse this year: Valentine’s day is two weeks away! Now, naturally, for the real people in your life, you’ll probably want to commemorate this some way. You know, flowers, chocolates, . . . promises you don’t intend to keep, et cetera.

But with all that love in the air, you know you’re going to be planning something special . . . on your blog. Here’s a chance to find an automatic topic, and get lots of visitors to your blog—and find great new blogs to read yourself! That’s right, it’s a BLOGFEST!

How to participate (and rules)
1. The theme is Love at first sight . . . or not so much. Post a first meeting between two characters who will fall for each other (even if it doesn’t look like they will at the time!).

2. You may write a new scene on the topic, OR you may post a scene from your WIP. [This doesn’t preclude completed works. Because, after all, no work of art is ever finished, only abandoned.]

3. This should be a given, but all scenes should be clean (i.e. no sex [what kind of first meet is this?], limited violence and language [again, what kind of first meet is this?]).

4. Post your scene on February 14, 2011, and add it to the Mr. Linky (on my post that day, though you’re free to sign up below, too). Link your post back to the blogfest on here so your readers can read other entries, too.

5. Read, enjoy, and comment on other entries!

Want the badge? Copy this and paste it in the HTML of a blog post or your sidebar:

<a href="http://jordanmccollum.com/romance-blogfest/" title="Romance Blogfest. Photo by José Carlos Norte" style="text-decoration: none;"><img src="http://i192.photobucket.com/albums/z41/MamaBlogga/airomance.png" width="300" alt="romance blogfest badge" /></a>

Want it bigger or smaller? Change the number at width="300" to adjust the size.

Thank you for signing up in advance:

Blogfest badge photo by José Carlos Norte

Yet another blogfest

Okay, this’ll be the last for a while. Today I’m participating in Secret Story’s Bar Scene Blogfest.

Set up: Special Agent Zach Saint is undercover as a Catholic priest after the parish mob murdered the last priest. This is his first week in the parish, and he’s joined one of the parish mobsters (Cally Lonegan) at the local bar. Zach doesn’t drink. Ever.


The bartender placed fresh glasses in front of Zach and Cally Lonegan. Zach took a tentative sip of his; it was bitter and alcohol-free as his last four drinks. Lonegan had guzzled 90-proof gin as fast as Zach could down his tonic and limes.

Lonegan reached for his tumbler, but looked away at the last second. The momentary distraction was timed perfectly for Lonegan to knock the glass over and spill the juniper-based spirit in Zach’s lap.

Great. Sighing, Zach grabbed a towel from across the bar to mop up the mess. Oblivious, Lonegan was busy flagging down a friend. “Doyle!” Even with the crowd, his shout was twenty decibels too loud. But it wasn’t the shouting that had Zach’s attention—was this Murphy?

Before he looked around, the full case file flashed through Zach’s mind. The crime scene photos of the last underling Murphy had had executed sprang to the forefront. He turned to follow Lonegan’s gaze.

Eyeing Zach, a man who carried his weight like he was used to being obeyed approached the bar. He looked just like his file photo: tall, hefty, and subtly menacing. “What kind of company you keeping now, Cal?”

“Who, this?” He punched Zach in the shoulder harder than necessary. “This is Father Tim. Salt of the Earth, that’s for sure!” Lonegan roared with laughter.

“Doyle Murphy.” The newcomer—the resident mob boss—settled at Zach’s left. Well, that was easier than he expected.

As long as he didn’t end up like the last guy who Murphy didn’t trust. The blood spatter on the sedate floral sofa hung in his mind. The Bureau believed the guy had been an hour late to deliver a shipment.

And then there was Father Patrick.

Zach fought back his racing pulse and shook the mobster’s hand. He’d been this close to vicious killers before. Worked with them, even. But a nagging feeling in his gut said ingratiating himself to this control freak over the next weeks—months, maybe—would be the most dangerous assignment he’d faced yet.


Yes, there’s more to the scene—but that’s where the chapter ends.

As always, read, participate and comment here!

Photo by Silus Grok

Murder Scene Blogfest

I’m still on a blogfest kick, with one for today and one for tomorrow. Today is the Murder Scene Blogfest, hosted by Anne Riley, and here’s my entry! (Note: it’s been trimmed here.)


In ten hours, they would be married. A mix of anxiety and adrenaline surged through Scott as he turned on to Abby’s street.

Squad cars idled in front of her building. His stomach turned cold. She was all right—she had to be. It could be anyone. It could be the building next door. It could be a traffic stop.

A traffic stop with three sets of flashing lights?

Scott sped up, scanning for a parking space. He’d missed her call last night thanks to his dad and his dreaded pre-wedding lecture. She hadn’t left a message. Was something wrong?

No. They wouldn’t keep three cars with flashing lights on the street overnight, unless—

He pulled alongside one of the squad cars, got his badge from the glove box and sprinted to the nearest uniform.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ll have to move along, sir.”

Scott shook his head. He flashed his badge. “What’s going on?”

“Murder.” The officer looked back toward the entrance to the parking garage beneath Abby’s building.

Fear grabbed his heart. “Who?”

“The guy who called it in couldn’t ID the body.”

“I know some people in the building. I’ll take a look.”

The officer glanced back at the ramp that led to the shadowed basement. “Don’t tell ’em I was the one that let you in.”

Scott nodded and started down the ramp. Each step tightened dread’s grip on his chest. By the time he reached the first level, he was almost sprinting.

He’d come here for an early morning run, but this wasn’t what he’d intended.

The plainclothes detectives clustered near Abby’s parking spot, and a darkening blood pool on the asphalt. A black body bag—full—sat on a gurney, waiting to be loaded into the coroner’s van. Scott stopped short, the fear freezing in his veins.

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not on their wedding day.

“Who let you down here?” one of the detectives demanded.

Scott kept his eyes on the body bag as he approached and pulled out his badge. “FBI.” Normally, he said it with force, but his voice sounded like a hollow echo ringing in his ears.

A grizzled detective threw up his hands in mock-joy. “Tell me the feds want this one. I have three hours till my shift’s supposed to start.”

“Have you IDed the body?”

The graying detective shook his head. “You live here?”

He nodded. Close enough.

The coroner’s assistant nodded at the detective’s signal and unzipped the body bag. He pulled back the flap before Scott could even brace himself.


(I think I should clarify here that when I hear the words “murder scene,” I automatically think of a crime scene, not a scene in which we watch someone be murdered. The murder here actually does take place “on screen” in the scene before this, but I have to rewrite that, so I went with this.)

Read, participate and comment here!

Photo by Mac