A Missing Peace

Hello Bloggers,

How are we doing today? Hope all is well. Today I want to introduce you all to an author. Please wave and say "Hi!" to Beth Fred.

Beth has written a book I've recently read called A MISSING PEACE. It's about angry, seventeen-year-old Iraqi war refugee Mirriam Yohanna. Stuck in a military base populated by spoiled army brats like Caleb Miller. And when she gets into a heated debate about what life was like in Iraqi versus what Caleb thinks her life was like, sparks fly and they end up doing an assignment together.

Of course Caleb volunteers to be Mirriam's partner in order to win a bet, so he can regain his pride which Mirriam crushed the moment she didn't fall for his charming lines. But working together so closely not only opens up their hearts to each other, it also reveals secrets about their pasts. Uncovering the truth has the potential to ruin lives--- and possibly their futures.

Mirriam has a great heart and so does Caleb. And when their together it's sweet. I really enjoyed the chemistry between these two. I like her relationship with her brother although you don't see much of it. And I kind of wish you did. But when you get some glimpse of it, it's nice. However, I didn't really feel a sense of a forbidden love going on here. Mirriam isn't supposed to date, and she's definitely not supposed to date white boys, but doesn't come off as strong as I would like. Her mother at the hospital doesn't seem so, how would I put this, Going Crazy and in Overprotective mode when Mirriam is with Caleb in the hospital. Yes, she sneaks out a lot, uses the project for reasons to see Caleb, but it's basically lightly touched on subject. All in all the concept is different and a good read.

Now here is a little about the  author herself.

  1. How did you come up with the story?

I had some personal connection to a romance threatened by culture clash, because my husband is from India and I'm from Texas. I'd wanted to write something about a soldier and a Muslim girl for a long time but couldn't figure out how to make it YA. I was brainstorming concepts for a writing class and my husband suggested the son of a fallen soldier and a war refugee without knowing this. The rest was history. 

2.    Did you plot the story out? Or do you not use outlines?

 For the writing class, Nova Ren Suma made us write the query before we started the novel. I'd just had success with a query that centered around the seven plot points of the three act structure. So I came up with seven plot points and that was my outline. But the outline grew the more I wrote. So I started with a one page synop and as I wrote ideas came to me for scenes further in the book. I started keeping notes. 

3.    For writers, what kind of advice can you give them, what do you think is the most important thing you learned?

 The most important thing I learned was hands down the three act structure, but other lessons that I think are vital for writers are to be true to yourself. Find your voice, nurture it and use it. Don't mimic. And don't be afraid to take risks. Know that the industry is changing and don't ignore one option chasing after another.

4.    What is your favorite character in the book?

 Oh this is a hard one! I love lots of characters for different reasons. I'm sorry I can't pick just one. Mirriam is a strong female lead, and I love her for it. But Morgan is so okay with who she is I wish everyone could have a piece of that confidence in high school. And Gade--he's not my favorite character but I have to love him for the role he plays in the book that no one else could quite play. The decision he makes changes everything.

5.    Why are they your favorite?

 LOL. Sorry I got carried away. I think I answered that above.

6.    What kind of novels do you generally write?

 I don't know! It changes every time. A Missing Peace is almost suspense and before it I'd never written anything like this. I'm currently working on a novel with a definite Nicholas Sparks feel and you guessed it. Before this I've written nothing like it.

7.    What kind of novels do you read?

 YA Romance. Clean Romance. And YA not romance occasionally. Every now and then I can enjoy a cozy if it has a strong romantic subplot and every now and then I like a Nicholas Sparks book whatever genre that is.

8.    What are you working on now?

 Oh--wouldn't you like to know. LOL. A book about a boy, a girl, and some dark secrets.

9.    What is your favorite scene out of A Missing Peace?

I don't know! There are a few. Mirriam and Caleb's first kiss for one! I don't want to give anything a way so I'm going to be vague, but there is one scene in the book that is so different from what I usually write and kind of edgy that I love it. Not because of the event that happened (that was horrible) but because of what it meant, and what it said. And because early reviews are telling me people got it.

'Cause it's facts, Jack!

Ten Fun Facts about me:

1. I want to own a koala bear. (a live one. Not a stuffed animal)

2. I love flowers but I've got a black thumb (meaning I kill plants) Sorry!

3. I went to the University of Akron, home of the zips. (It's a kangaroo. I'm not sure why he's named Zippy)

4. The people who name roads I believe some of them are bored, sarcastic, or just way too high to care. (You know some of the names you've seen. They are either really funny, stupid, or just make you wonder what the hell the person was thinking)

5. When I was little, there were only boys in my neighborhood to play with. Okay there were two girls but one was super weird, and the other really stuck up, so needless to say I was a tomboy most of my childhood.

6. Music is my one and only vice against chaos. (I sing all the time without care)

7. I've got a black belt in Tae Kwon Do

8. My eyes change different colors, sometimes it's burnt orange or turns caramel and then green.

9. I didn't like books until I was in seventh grade and needed an escape from my dysfunctional family.

10. I write because there are stories that are in my head and need to be told.


Tell me something about you?

Postpone the matter ...

Usually, I can write a novel without a gentle push or shove in the right direction. Especially if the story is solid in my head. But this is for one story. I'm writing two at the same time. Equally annoying, and all this cluttered chatter in my head, sometimes I sigh audibly because one of my characters are doing exactly that.

Now as crazy people run around in my noggin, I must find a way to get them all out. So how would I do this? I divide up my days, my writing days half the day is dedicated to one story. The other half is dedicated to the other story. Seems simple enough. But I know what you're thinking, well how the heck do you keep them separate?

I outlined both stories. It's been a beast, but it's working. Also, with the outlines you'd think my writing days would be easier. Or that I could get my book done faster, but for some reason since the leg work or really hard part is done. The lay out, plot points and basically the Map from beginning to end it seems I've turned into a lazy writer. I'm only getting about 500 words down when on a normal write day I get about 1.5k to 2.5 K.

Thank goodness for my back-up or I should say my writer support. My writing friends Mandy and Courtney have decided to push each other on Sunday's we have a reach it or break it writing goal day. Every Sunday we tell each other what our goal is. We even do a how many words can we get an hour. And you will not believe how great it is writing on Sundays. I mean the push is exactly what I need.

How do you reach your goals?

And that's awesome

I'm up at 4:00 am. Why you ask? Well in about an hour I'm supposed to be up, getting things packed in order to go this Triathlon. Fun stuff.

My friend keeps trying to talk me into doing one of these things. And I just laugh. Not because I think it's the most ridiculous thing ever. No. I laugh at the image of me running distance. HA HA HA that's so funny I could just pee my pants. I can swim distance fine, that was my thing in HS. Did it in college for fun. I can bike forever. But running, yeah ... I'd die. I can Sprint around a baseball diamond, but if you asked me to run a mile, ha ha ha, I wouldn't make it. I fail at pacing.

Now, I told people this, and some actually said well if you can swim distance you can run it too. Because they think it's the same thing. I try to tell them it's totally different. For me at least it is.

But this got me thinking, When people try to compare writing different novels in different age groups and genres and how it's all the same. And again, I beg to differ.

Just because someone can write a great MG novel doesn't mean they can write a great YA. Reason being this: Voices and actions must match the ages of the character, right or wrong? MG- you're writing for junior high 5th and 6th grade audience. They still think things like Farts, Burps and Turds are funny! YA - This is the older junior high student possibly ready for HS, or just getting out of school forever. All the way up to 17-18 years old. (But even adults read it, like me) We're not finding humor in belches, passing gas, or crapping. (maybe a smidge) but not so much in books. They want to be adults. Do adult things. Explore adult things, without letting go of they're youth totally. They're more into Drinking, Driving, Parties, Exploring bodies, figuring out things, and Life, from living on the danger to being so stressed about your future.
Adult- We've got way different sets of problems from youth. So the novels are going to be different. The language right down to the whole plot line. Why? Because we're not teens. We've got different things going on like house payments, rent, car payments, possibly kids of our owns.

Each genre is unique, and the same voice will not work with all genres. So when switching genres, remember research, and keep it as real as possible.

Breaks ... Laziness ... and Summer Fun

I've been working, or poolside for most of this summer. But I've also been a little lazy on my writing. Which isn't a bad thing because during the end of August- June I'm writing. I can conquer at least two books in that amount of time and start a third.

But in the summer middle of June until the second week of August, I'm mostly a relaxing sort of person. I just want to chill. Clear my head. And type for hours without being disturbed. That's why I've been making a writing time schedule. Because in the summer, I'm lazy. I want to sunbathe instead of type. I want to swim instead of write a chapter. And really I could be getting more books done if I just wrote a little more. So, I decided to write for two hours every monday, wednesday, and friday. Leave the others days for other things.

How's your writing coming in the summer?

Change ...

My writing has changed over the years. I knew I would grow, learn more information, and get better at writing, but I never thought that in doing so my writing would end up changing. I can say it's for the better. How about you? Has your writing changed and if so how? Here is a sample of how one of my stories has completely changed and to be honest I love it.

 This is from the Original Runaways: 

 I’m innocent. I’ve had to remind myself this at least a thousand times, while locked away inside this damp, dark cell. My parents, all my teachers, hell even my friends thought I was a murderer. Why would anyone else think differently? Ten minutes. That was all it had taken for my world to flip. I had left the room and came back to a dying roommate. The image of Zeth’s body replayed over and over inside my head. Her eyes were huge and pleading help. She whimpered softly. I rushed down the hall to find someone that can help her. Her pulse was weak, but she was barely hanging on by a thread. By the time I’d returned she was lifeless. In an instant, I was tossed inside this tiny cell. My trial was the next day. Pacing was the only thing I could do without going insane. I heard water drip from a far corner, drip- drop-drip-drop. It was far worse than a clock ticking off in the distance, counting down the mere seconds of when I’d finally have my freedom. Outside the dungeon, I heard the sounds of wooden soles clanking against the stone steps leading to the cells. Two guards stopped in front of the iron bars with my best friend Derek standing alongside them. Everyone was safe from me and my powers because of the shimmery blue force field surrounding the bars. Derek’s sandy- colored hair flickered gold in the candle-light, and his lips curled into his famous lopsided smile; I secretly loved it. Without hesitation, I ran to him and pressed myself against the bars. The magic hummed between us, and it was agony to stand there so close, but I needed contact. He wrapped his hand around the iron separating us and I whispered in a choking sob, “What are you doing down here?” It was a stupid question on my part. I haven’t seen anyone besides my parents and the guards who brought me food since I was locked in here. It’s been three days since I’ve seen a friendly face. “Well, I was just dropping by to see a friend, and since I was already in this…” He paused and looked around probably searching for an appropriate word then he laughed, “I was going to say splendid place, but that wouldn’t be fitting enough.” Normally I’d laugh at his sense of humor. His sarcasm usually made even my worst days of doom brighten. Today, I must’ve been all tapped out. Not even a small snicker came from me, and his face frowned. “Summers,” he sighed. He always called me by my last name. “I’ve known you since you we were nine. There is no way in the world you did what they say you did.” I sighed and backed away from the bars. But he continued, “I know that. I believe it. Tomorrow you will see… everything will be fine. They will test your blood and you will be back upstairs before you know it.” I simply nodded. There was truth in his words. I told myself the same thing over and over again didn’t I? They would test my blood. One drop was all they needed and it would show everything. Every feeling, thought, action, and secret I’ve shared or kept. It would show them I just found her, that was all. He took a seat on the cold dark floor, and rambled on about what I was missing out. From the lunchroom gossip that was three floors above this cage they had me in, to the latest tests we had coming up in some of our defense classes. When I was starting to get used to the sound of his voice, and almost felt a sense of comfort, the guards returned to take him away. It was like they sensed me dropping my walls, and almost believing there was hope, this nightmare would soon be over. That wasn’t the case though. In fact this nightmare was far from over.

  This is from the Current Runaways:

 Mr. Weaver’s last words to me were, “Save it for the police!” before he shut me in this cell located at the basement of the school. That’s not the worst of it though. For three days, I’ve been surrounded by bars. The only visitors I’ve had are the guards who patrol the school at all hours of the day and my parents dropped by, a visit I’d love to block out. My mother sobbed the whole time. My father on the other hand was a rock, and that’s not really a good thing. In a cold voice he said, “They’ll test you. You’ll prove your innocence or your guilt. Either way, we’re disappointed that you even got yourself into a mess like this.” My trial is tomorrow. I’m jittery just thinking about it. There’s a leaky pipe in the corner of this drafty dungeon. The sounds of drip-drop-drip-drop seem to be my only companion through the night, well, besides the limited human interaction with the trays of food brought to me. It’s enough to drive a sane person crazy. Clanking of shoes beating on the stone steps, pull me from my dark thoughts. I’m exhausted and should sleep, but it’s impossible. Every time I shut my eyes, her dead body is all I see. How can anyone possibly sleep with an image like that replaying itself on repeat? My heart races with hope when the sounds of footsteps grow closer. Please be Fredrick. Surely, he wouldn’t leave me down here to rot like some kind of dangerous criminal. The only crime I’m guilty of committing was cheating on an eight-grade Physical Science test. He knows I’d rather die than hurt my best friend or anyone for that matter. My jolt of hope drops into the pit of my stomach as two guards stop outside my cell. They aren’t alone. Derek, my only guy friend stands alongside them. Behind these thick slabs of iron, everyone’s safe from my supposed killer ways. Derek’s sandy color hair flicks gold under the lighting. His lips curl into his famous lopsided smile, which I secretly love. Without hesitation, I run to him and press myself against the bars. He wraps his hand around the iron separating us and I whisper in a choking sob, “What are you doing down here?” It’s a stupid question on my part. However not one friend has come to see me. They say being thrown in the slammer changes people, and this might be true. In my case, this experience makes me question my choice in friends. “Well, I was in the neighborhood, and decided to drop by this …” He pauses and looks around probably searching for an appropriate word and then he laughs, “I was going to say splendid place, but that wouldn’t be fitting enough.” Normally, this kind of stuff makes me laugh. His sarcasm makes my worst days, feel brighter, but today I’m all tapped out. No smile, not even a small snicker comes from me. He frowns. “Summers,” he sighs. He always calls me by my last name. “You look like shit. You’ve got to get some sleep.” My eye sockets ache beyond words. He keeps talking, “Hey, I know you didn’t do this. Don’t worry, tomorrow they’ll test you and you’ll be back upstairs before you know it.” I shudder at the thought. Would they make me stay in that room again? God, I hope not. Slumping down on the cold floor, a straggled breath leaves me. There’s truth in his words. Tomorrow they’ll test my blood, and all will be right. One drop and they’ll see I found her, that’s it. What if they decide to punish me for the truth detector? They might hold me as partly responsible and I’ll still piss away thirty years of my life in a prison cell. God, all of this sucks. “Hey whatever you’re thinking, stop. It’s making your forehead all wrinkly. So, please…stop thinking. I told you everything is going to be fine.” “I know. But I can’t stop seeing her face. Those soulless eyes. Derek it’s all I see …” tears pour down my face, dripping off my chin. “Even if I do get out of here, there’s no way I can go back to life as if nothing happened.” Derek presses his hand against the bars. “What do you mean if? They’re going to let you out. And as for the other matter, no one will expect that from you. Only psychos would act like that, but therapy, lots of it could eventually get you to that point.” We both take a seat on the cold dark floor. He’s close to the bars. I’m close to my, what I’d call a toddler size bed, and he rambles on about the things I’ve missed. From lunchroom gossip that’s three floors above this cage they have me in, to the latest tests we have coming up in some of our classes. We share three classes, not including lunch because that’s not a class. “How’s Fredrick?” I manage to ask. Derek’s stare turn dark. This is a sore subject between us. Always has been ever since I started dating Fredrick. He says it’s because Fredrick is clearly a player at heart, but I don’t listen to his petty rants when it comes to who he thinks Fredrick is. “He’s just fine. Why? Hasn’t he come by?” I swallow hard. “He’s probably busy.” “Yeah. Maybe.” I don’t call him out on it, but I can tell there is something Derek is keeping from me. But we change the subject and time seems to slip away. I’m starting to get use to the sound of his voice. I almost feel a sense of comfort inside this claustrophobic space, and then the guards return to take him away. It’s like they sensed my walls dropping, and almost believing this nightmare will just be that a nightmare, nothing more. My life would be normal as soon as I woke up. That isn’t the case though. In fact, this nightmare is far from over.


The first version is actually what I had for my first chapter. The current version is actually Chapter 2. It used to be a paranormal romance, now it's a futuristic Sci-Fi romance. Like I said before Change, it's sometimes for the better.

I'm just not sure

First off, I'm so not happy with playlist.com. They took away my wonderful playlist. Grr! They changed it up to some radio thing. Yeah not that I don't love radio, oh wait, nope nope I actually don't. I love my unlimited musical playlist that sits happily in one of my cup holders. It doesn't interrupt me with DJ's telling me about some celeb news. Or commercials about weight loss products. I don't want to listen to that while I'm driving. I want music. Just like when I'm writing I want MUSIC not the sounds of commercials. But moving on from my playlist, and onto another thing I'm not even remotely sure about. Reading, Writing, and do you feel like sometimes characters all end up saying and doing the same thing one way or another? I was currently working on my rewrite of Runawys which I've got up to 11k finished. I'm so excited about it. Really, I think it just needed me to step back and retackle with fresh eyes. How long exactly was this step backwards? close to three years. I know, I know, that's a long ass time. But the beginning and follow through with one of the characters motives was NOT sitting right with me. It was ... lost. I couldn't dig through all the slush and pull it out. So, I wrote other things. Bloodshed Fires (still a wip, that's almost finished) Shedding Secrets (Needs a total rewrite and a lot more emotions added) Spoken, Currently working on sequel not sure what I'm going to call it. Point is, I've been keeping myself busy not dwelling or worrying about the work. I knew it would eventually come back. But again, I find myself stumbling upon that question. Do Characters all end up saying or doing the same thing one way or another? I recently seen in books I've been reading the male leads either chase after a girl, or charm the pants off of her, or automatically push her away. And for me, I want my characters to not like each other. I want them to assume terrible things about each other and use that as leverage of not being near them. Or even trying to get to know them. That's what I want. And of course something will change, one will either save the other, or help them in some way and then things will click. They'll begin rethinking things. I don't want my characters to talk the same either. Does this make any sense? Like I don't want the boy to be all charming and dripping sweet like a gentleman from the deep south, or from back in Victorian era, where men said things like Oh are you cold? And hands a girl his jacket. Or oh, let me get the door for you. Now, yes, there is boys still like this, I know that, I dated two when I was 17 and 18. Still, two out of fifteen isn't many. So I want the guys to be genuine. Real. I think that's why I love the mortal Instrument characters, Jace can be such an ass at times and sweet to Clary. But only when the moment is needed. Other times he comes off as well, i said the truth, you can take it as is and that's that. He's not there to win friends. And the reader knows this, but we're drawn to him because he's well, honest to a fault. What characters interest you?