Wall around my heart

I wrote this song, but can't sing. Anybody out there interested in collaborating? Must have a voice! We can put this on YouTube and share the rewards, if any. I'm good with any style and rewrite, well, rewriting is our business. Also this song can be flipped to the male POV (but you have got to be a guy, in that case).

Wall Around My Heart

by Bob Richard

I’ll build a wall around my heart,
And you’re goin’ to pay for it.
The surf licks your footprints,
But you aren’t really here.
Pretty boys playin,’ flirtin’, wear your face,
You’re gone baby, and that ain’t fair.
Is that you riding a breaker?
Waving bye, baby, bye. I swear.

I’ll build a wall around my heart,
And you’re goin’ to pay for it.

I pick up a shell, hear words of love,
Yeah…the gulls linger, laugh above.
My tears can’t stop falling on the tide,
Just makes sea levels rise.
In pirouette, I bury my toes. It’s galling,
No one to keep me from falling.

I’ll build a wall around my heart,
And you’re goin’ to pay for it.

Yes, you could come back to me,
But you don’t, do you?
Yes, we might dance on sand again,
But you won’t, boo hoo.
Mist tastes of kisses, the breeze of your body,
But you’ll not run back. You woe woe won’t.

I’ll build a wall around my heart,
And you’re goin’ to pay for it.

So, I’ll wonder along this beach for a mile.
A sea lion flashes a wicked smile.
Trip over seaweed, step on tiny creatures.
All I spy are your features.
Wonder if you’ll surprise me, change of heart.
Grab me, thrill me. Yeah, sure, sure, sure.
Maybe you’re over a sand dune with some other girl,
Sand on her bottom. Yeah. Sure. Sure. Sure.

I’ll build a wall around my heart,
And you’re goin’ to pay for it.

I’ll build a wall.
I’ll build a wall,
Around my heart.
[FADE, LAUGH] And you’ll pay, ’cause you miss me.

Santa's Wish

I wrote this for my grandsons because their mom, mu daughter, is battling cancer. I picked up ten-year-old Kai from school and asked him to read it. When he was done I asked him, his opinion. He liked it but said there was a comma missing five lines down: “About a year after Michael died[add comma] her baby started…” He also suggested I supply a reason for why the weight-year-old girl had a big vocabulary. Although Kai is well read, it tickled me because who’s smarter than a fifth grader?

Santa’s Wish

by RW Richard

dedicated to Kai, Ian and Sebastian

Mother and daughter, sipping hot cocoas, stood in a long line for Macy’s Santa. Although a workaholic City Attorney, Holly Lombardy, would always have time for her baby, Michelle. Besides, snow and high winds awaited them for their walk home down Broadway to Chelsea.

“Mommy, you got to.”

About a year after Michael died, her baby started a precocious campaign to get a boyfriend for her mom. Now, about three years after her husband’s death in Afghanistan, her eight-year-old, armed with more reason, became relentless. On top of that, her love of reading and school, Michelle played or read in her mom's home office, often while Holly engaged in complex conversations via phone.

“It’s you have to, sweetheart. Not got to.”

“Do you think of me? I might want a daddy presence in the house.”

Holly smiled. What planet did this little exasperator hail from? Nonetheless, Michelle was her whole world and Holly loved it that way.

“There are such little things, like love, to consider. I still miss and love your daddy.” The line to Santa moved closer to where she could just see an elf’s ear.

“We both know that love is infinitely big.”

“You don’t need to use big. It’s redundant.”

“You aren’t on the point, mommy. It’s called avoidance.”

“You’re called a nuisance.”

Her baby pouted. After Michelle spent some time looking at the train circling nearby, and a boy waiving, they were almost in front of Santa.

“Is he a classmate?”

“He’s just a boy. We need a man.”

Holly burst out laughing.

“Santa will see you now.”

Santa, aka NYPD Detective Sam Samuels, was indeed seeing them now. There she was, that hot shot NYC attorney. That hot everything woman with puckish face and blow-you-away personality. A woman that he admired from afar, being a gutless wonder.

Soon she’d be a little closer and if reindeers had antlers he’d find a way to speak to her.

The red-haired, curly-topped child climbed onto his lap. “What’s your name, little girl?”

“I’m Michelle Lombardy and this is my mom. You can call her Holly.”

Santa peered hesitantly into Holly’s eyes and saw that she was amused by her take-charge daughter. From what he could tell, they were cut from the same cloth.

“Hello, Holly,” he bellowed in his best Santa baritone. “And what do you want for Christmas, Michelle?”

“I’d like Play Station 4 with 1 terabyte and a Ken for my Barbie and Star Wars Legos and two different colored socks and a new dad and a husband for my mother.”

“Ho ho ho.” He belly-laughed. Peeked at Holly. She gave him a thumb up and then the thumb turned downward, as if she were emperor.

“Well, Michelle, you are on my nice list. So, you will be getting much of what you asked for.”

“I don’t want anything if I can’t get a new daddy. He died in Afgan-ah-stand.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But he’s a hero in heaven.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and he loves you so very much.” Holly’s eyes welled over. “At the North Pole where I work, we make toys and gifts for good little boys and girls, but we have never made a person.”

“I know that.” Michelle frowned. “Well, maybe you can use some magic on a lonely but very handsome guy, because my daddy was handsome…who you think would be a good match for mommy.”

“Well,” he looked at Holly for guidance. She threw her hands up and her eyes took in the ceiling. “What do you say, Holly?”

“I’m happy. My baby is all I need.”

“She’s lying. She’s lying. Please Santa, look into her heart.”

“Well, Holly, I’m looking into your heart right now and I see a happy woman, who loves her daughter. I also see a man in your future someday but probably not by Christmas.” He winked, and Holly winked back. “You see, little one, true love is God’s department, and He will know when.”

“Weeell, okay, but if you do find somebody, please put holes in the gift box so he can breathe.”

He thought of the puppy his nephew was about to receive. “Of course, the rules and regulations book specifically calls out breathing as very important. Every elf is properly trained.”

“Thank you, Santa.”

With that and two candy canes, they were gone.

Next morning at 1 Police Plaza, after Sam reported that the ASM, ass-squeezing-masher, did not show at Macy’s the day before, he found his friend, detective, Paul Gottinger. While they talked Sam pulled up Holly Lombardy’s address.

“I’m smitten, Paul. I saw her, yesterday. I actually talked to her and now it’s eating me up.”

“Got a date?”

“No, she was with her daughter and I was playing Santa Claus.”

“So?”

“Well, I was feeling full of eggnog, Christmas cookies. Besides, Mrs. Claus would have a fit if I looked at another woman.”

“Start at the beginning and leave no part out. No part.” Paul flipped out his interview book and chuckled. “Just the facts.” He touched the pencil tip to his tongue.

Sam told the story word for word.

“I know the super at the building she lives in. I’ve got an idea.” Paul said.

When Paul got ideas usually something crazy would go down, but he heard him out.

Early Christmas morning three men delivered a big box to the hallway right outside Holly’s door and then two men left the building. One of them, as planned, would call up to Holly and tell her of the present.

Sam sat legs too-crossed in a box that smelled like his buddies had stolen it from a fish factory. This is not good. He sweated, even though there were plenty of “breathing” holes. He had to admit to a touch of claustrophobia. Just like the time he had chased a perp into the labyrinth of pipes and cables, of and an ever-narrowing access tunnel under the 10^th street subway. It wasn’t the man’s knife that bothered him. The man was small and wiry. Sam was 6’2” and broad-shouldered. He caught the bastard before he slithered down a rat hole. The jewels were recovered.

Sam faintly heard snippets of words by Holly with her daughter’s excited voice mingling.

“Oh my, what have we here?” Holly was not too popular with certain underworld types, so she paused and considered getting her Glock.

“It’s him, It’s my new daddy.”

“Or maybe an elephant.”

“No-o-o.”

Watching her daughter tear at the box, Holly backed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.

“Honey, please move away from the package.” She called her friend Joe, the super, who told her everything she needed to know. A good snitch is hard to come by.

“Michelle, this knife I have,” she shouted into a breathing hole, “can do two things. It can defend against stranger danger and open a box. At this point her nose registered a complaint. Either he’s fishy or he needs out of this box.

“Could Santa’s idea of a boyfriend be that 6”6” Italian, my counterpart in Brooklyn? He’s so good-looking. Could it be the mayor’s son? Not bad either. Or maybe a giant fish.”

“Come on, mom. Open it. Open it.”

“Or maybe, that James Bond lookalike. That detective, Sam Samuels. The shy one.”

“M-ah-om.”

Holly carefully cut through all the tape holding the front of the box and opened the flap. She beheld a beautiful man. A man she had always wondered about. Her baby, happy-faced, held out one hand. The other pinched her nose.

“Why don’t you come in, Sam, and stay awhile.” Yeah, maybe a long while.

Nothing to see here

9.                  Please don’t have something important happen in the first scene or chapter.

Writing gurus call what happens in the first scene or chapter various things, but before I get into the top seven points more completely, I want to explore a common misunderstanding associated with point 1. Writing experts suggest starting a novel in the middle of the action, in medias res [latin].

Some writers think this means that something is left out, like the who, what, where, when, why and how. But grounding your scene and starting in a crucial situation are not mutually exclusive. Of critical importance in retaining an editor or agent is in not making a usual mistake with in medias res. That is, dropping the reader into the middle of a life as usual moment. This is quite often followed by more of the same in following chapters until the writer realizes nothing much is happening and then adds a problem. Nope, this will not get you published. Seriously, if you really want to be published or even read by more than a couple people, don’t ever in medias res your manuscript into day to day events. Don’t worry about important information about your world or even building your world. This should be handled as flashbacks or back-story…and not usually, in any length, in the first chapter or scene.

As an example, let’s look at the beginning of Susan Elizabeth Phillips’ Natural Born Charmer.

It wasn’t everyday a guy saw a headless beaver marching down the side of the road, not even in Dean Robillard’s larger-than-life world. “Son of a…” Dean slammed on the brakes of his brand-new Aston Martin Vanquish and pulled over in front of her.

The beaver marched right past…

I get a lot out of this number one best seller’s start. He’s rich and bored. He likes women. The beaver intrigues him. This book will be fun, which is (often) a conscious promise to the reader from the author.

This first scene, as it develops, shows you what you need to know about the book and these two characters to want to continue reading.

This scene starter is also called the cute meet or meet cute. A cute meet is an unusual scene which often thrusts the hero and heroine into each other’s lives often in a humorous way.

We have in medias rex, and the cute meet. Writing experts expect the first scene to include one or a combination of the following:

1.      In medias res.

2.      A cute meet.

3.      A story question or story hook, also known as a story problem.

4.      An external, internal or both event that changes the life of a character or characters and induces the character or group to make a journey or quest. Also called the inciting incident.

5.      A promise to the reader.

6.      Readers bonding with your characters. A writing craft issue, of which there are many more. These craft secrets that agents, editors and good writers know will be summarized and explained in a later chapter. For now, regarding bonding, I’d recommend Save the Cat! by Snyder. Basically, the writer needs to show the humanity of the character when confronted by a small or large dilemma that challenges her beliefs, abilities or understanding of the world.

7.      Foreshadowing.

There are exceptions to beginning a novel using a combination of the big 7 above. But not if you want an agent or editor to call you. Oops, I forgot, this is a book on how not to get published. So do none of the above 7 points. The exceptions, if you must know, so that you can buck convention and write your own way can be found in Hooked by Edgerton on pages 96-117. It will be a cool day in hell… Remember the agencies and publishers are flooded with submissions. They establish rules for their interns to follow so that the massive pile up of paper or mostly these days, emails can be avoided.

The book Hooked exceptions are:

1.      The calm before the storm opening.

2.      The fish-out-of-water opening.

3.      The essential context opening.

4.      The frame story opening.

To be fair, if you meet face-to-face with an editor or agent and you explain why you chose one of the four above, you’d have a better chance. But remember they then, in-turn, have to tell their reader (intern) to allow for the technique.

Writers are loners (and their own worse enemy).

How not to get published, point 5.

Please do not join writers’ groups or go to conferences

When you want work done around your home many ask their friends for recommendations. It’s who you know. People do business with people they know. The same goes for writing.

They call it the slush pile for a reason. Slush has a negative connotation, as if you were wading through melting snow. Imagine wading all day long. You’d lose your feet. As said before, agents and editors and the people they hire to read are inundated. Perhaps they dread the slush. It’s a job.

You can get lucky. My first book, a unique story about wolves and men, before there were dogs, immediately got an agent. She was stymied with the editors she tried to get on board, perhaps because they didn’t know me or take the time to know me. My agent, who wasn’t that into her agency, I found out later, wasn’t good enough to qualify as the friend that recommends a home repair person.

It was at this point, I all alone, realized I needed help. First, I joined critique groups. I might have been a tad too sensitive to criticism. No worries, this is a common condition if you are a loner or that ivory tower genius. That helped me grow and become receptive to other people's ideas and suggestions, but still no bites, by qualified agents or editors. Then I joined a writing organization (RWA) and went to their monthly meetings and then conferences. Soon I was interviewing with agents and editors in person and they nearly always asked for my work. This increased my chances for success. Accepted or not you will often receive feedback that will help you improve. By the way, I was a male romance writer at the time, so sometimes I received doses of reverse discrimination. Basically, “you’re a male, why are you writing romance?” I just grew stronger.

My point is email off your query as a stranger and your chance of an agent or editor asking for more are somewhere between 1::100 to 1::1000. Meet people and your chances of their asking for material are better than 80%. I base this percentage on interviews with other writers at the same meetings or conferences. These odds are stunning.

The problem with joining things and flying to conferences, for many of us, is money. I get that. Do what you can. Critiques groups are cheap or free. Finding other writers to swap manuscripts with can be a tad more expensive if you join national organizations which could cost around $100. By surfing the net you may share with other writers typically for free.

Here’s a sample of useful sites:

www.absolutewrite.com
www.writerscafe.org
www.forwriters.com/group

If you are a recluse or loner or you can't get out, at least connect online and let people know your situation. You'll find kindred spirits.