Miranda Bing's Blog
July 23, 2015
The Evolution of IMAGES
I guess I always knew I wanted to be a storyteller.
Growing up in the ‘60s and ‘70s in a country that thrived on dramatic novellas, being a “author” meant you either had to be a literary genius whose printed novels ended up as a reading requirement in schools; or someone who contributed to serialized local language comic book sagas or equally serialized television dramas (with loads of whiplash slaps on the face, evil stepmothers, home-wrecking mistresses and the like). The vast majority of the population read these comic books (think Japanese manga with the thickness of a DC comic book). I didn’t want to add to that mix.
I still remember an activity in school when I was around 9 years old when we were let loose into our library. Most of my classmates grabbed whatever picture book they could. I got my hands on paperback Enid Blyton and sat in a corner. The teacher pointed me out saying “How come she can read a book that doesn’t have colored pictures in it and you guys can’t?” Made me wonder why as well.
I started with Nancy Drew when I was 11, graduating to Mills & Boon romances when I was 12. I was 13 when I read Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” and 16 when “The Godfather” crossed my path. By then I was already pounding out short stories on my grandfather’s 1950’s-era Remington typewriter, single-spaced, single-copies (I didn’t even know carbon paper existed). What I wrote were juvenile, naïve little pieces and, to this day, I am so glad these never saw the light of day and I never had anyone else read them (Oh, the humiliation!). It didn’t help that English was not our lingua franca. But the desire to put the images in my head on paper was there.
That desire never left me.
The story line of IMAGES came to me sometime in 1985. I was single and had calluses on my fingers using that old Remington. I drafted a 15-chapter outline and started writing the story of Simon and Lauren. With school going on at the same time, I only got as far as Chapter 5. It was ambitious, to say the least. I’m Asian and had never gone beyond our shores. Here I was trying to write something set in the UK. I mean, really now. How does one write about something set so far away from home? By then I was already working for a travel agency but staring at travel posters and researching using an outdated Encyclopedia Britannica wouldn’t have helped my story much. I kept the manuscript, put it in the back of my closet, and proceeded with life.
Simon and Lauren never let me be, though. At night I would imagine scenes in my head before going to sleep. Images was like a movie in my mind that kept playing in a loop. Their “meet-cute” in Chapter 2. Variations of the confrontation scene in the Chapter 38 of the finalized book. Simon Anthony Craig was my fantasy book-husband.
If my real-life husband only knew…
I decided to redraft the story again in the mid-90s. By then I had a Mackintosh in the office and would slowly transcribe my Remington-typed manuscript a couple of pages each evening after the office had closed, storing these into one of those 3-inch floppies. Oh, happiness was the Delete button! Good thing I printed as I went along as the floppy disk went the way of the dodo a few years later. And, again, I only got up to Chapter 5. Marriage, work and children took priority. Simon had to wait again in a brown envelope in the back of my closet.
2012 came along and I quit my day job, tired of the daily grind and the stress that came with it. By then my children had all grown-up (two were already working and the youngest was off to college) and I finally had time on my hands. After spring-cleaning my house and organizing years of family photo albums, I was finally reading again. And, lo and behold, I discovered the Fifty Shades of Grey series. I was hooked on the story. The writing, though, made my little juvenile manuscripts suddenly look much better…
In August 2012, I told a friend and fellow Fifty Shades reader that I had a story. I was transcribing Images again, this time storing it in an external hard-drive (Thank God for the Digital Age!). She had me email it to her and, after a night of reading through what I had done, gave me enough good feedback to make me want to finally write the story to the very end, albeit with an update to current times. A second friend got into the picture and – voila! – I had beta-readers.
It took me all of two months to finish the first draft of Images. I had to finish it by mid-October 2012 as I was going to start working again and won’t have the time to write full time anymore after that. I churned out a chapter a day uninterrupted, except weekends when my kids came home. After all, Images was a fully formed story in my mind. I just had to put it down on paper. Goodbye old Encyclopedia Britannica. Hello Internet! Research was a breeze, I just had to know where to google the background data I needed. From the original outlined 15 chapters, the final first draft ended up with 36 chapters. I proofed the book myself, all through March 2013, getting rid of a much typos and mis-phrasings as I could find. After adding a new chapter and splitting up the last chapter into two, I finally finished IMAGES with a total of 39 chapters…28years after I started.
IMAGES finally went live on Amazon.com in time for my 25th wedding anniversary in May 2013. I didn’t know much about marketing. They don’t do that much with ebooks where I am. Sales are dismal but reviews are heartwarmingly good. I told myself that if it sells, it sells. If it doesn’t, at least I can tell myself that I finished it. Simon Anthony Craig is no longer a figment of my imagination. He’s out there, waiting to be discovered. I’m happy.
Now I’m writing my second book. Simon’s no longer bugging me. This time, it’s Alex. And his story is much harder to tell. I hope I don’t take another 28years to let him out.
Growing up in the ‘60s and ‘70s in a country that thrived on dramatic novellas, being a “author” meant you either had to be a literary genius whose printed novels ended up as a reading requirement in schools; or someone who contributed to serialized local language comic book sagas or equally serialized television dramas (with loads of whiplash slaps on the face, evil stepmothers, home-wrecking mistresses and the like). The vast majority of the population read these comic books (think Japanese manga with the thickness of a DC comic book). I didn’t want to add to that mix.
I still remember an activity in school when I was around 9 years old when we were let loose into our library. Most of my classmates grabbed whatever picture book they could. I got my hands on paperback Enid Blyton and sat in a corner. The teacher pointed me out saying “How come she can read a book that doesn’t have colored pictures in it and you guys can’t?” Made me wonder why as well.
I started with Nancy Drew when I was 11, graduating to Mills & Boon romances when I was 12. I was 13 when I read Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” and 16 when “The Godfather” crossed my path. By then I was already pounding out short stories on my grandfather’s 1950’s-era Remington typewriter, single-spaced, single-copies (I didn’t even know carbon paper existed). What I wrote were juvenile, naïve little pieces and, to this day, I am so glad these never saw the light of day and I never had anyone else read them (Oh, the humiliation!). It didn’t help that English was not our lingua franca. But the desire to put the images in my head on paper was there.
That desire never left me.
The story line of IMAGES came to me sometime in 1985. I was single and had calluses on my fingers using that old Remington. I drafted a 15-chapter outline and started writing the story of Simon and Lauren. With school going on at the same time, I only got as far as Chapter 5. It was ambitious, to say the least. I’m Asian and had never gone beyond our shores. Here I was trying to write something set in the UK. I mean, really now. How does one write about something set so far away from home? By then I was already working for a travel agency but staring at travel posters and researching using an outdated Encyclopedia Britannica wouldn’t have helped my story much. I kept the manuscript, put it in the back of my closet, and proceeded with life.
Simon and Lauren never let me be, though. At night I would imagine scenes in my head before going to sleep. Images was like a movie in my mind that kept playing in a loop. Their “meet-cute” in Chapter 2. Variations of the confrontation scene in the Chapter 38 of the finalized book. Simon Anthony Craig was my fantasy book-husband.
If my real-life husband only knew…
I decided to redraft the story again in the mid-90s. By then I had a Mackintosh in the office and would slowly transcribe my Remington-typed manuscript a couple of pages each evening after the office had closed, storing these into one of those 3-inch floppies. Oh, happiness was the Delete button! Good thing I printed as I went along as the floppy disk went the way of the dodo a few years later. And, again, I only got up to Chapter 5. Marriage, work and children took priority. Simon had to wait again in a brown envelope in the back of my closet.
2012 came along and I quit my day job, tired of the daily grind and the stress that came with it. By then my children had all grown-up (two were already working and the youngest was off to college) and I finally had time on my hands. After spring-cleaning my house and organizing years of family photo albums, I was finally reading again. And, lo and behold, I discovered the Fifty Shades of Grey series. I was hooked on the story. The writing, though, made my little juvenile manuscripts suddenly look much better…
In August 2012, I told a friend and fellow Fifty Shades reader that I had a story. I was transcribing Images again, this time storing it in an external hard-drive (Thank God for the Digital Age!). She had me email it to her and, after a night of reading through what I had done, gave me enough good feedback to make me want to finally write the story to the very end, albeit with an update to current times. A second friend got into the picture and – voila! – I had beta-readers.
It took me all of two months to finish the first draft of Images. I had to finish it by mid-October 2012 as I was going to start working again and won’t have the time to write full time anymore after that. I churned out a chapter a day uninterrupted, except weekends when my kids came home. After all, Images was a fully formed story in my mind. I just had to put it down on paper. Goodbye old Encyclopedia Britannica. Hello Internet! Research was a breeze, I just had to know where to google the background data I needed. From the original outlined 15 chapters, the final first draft ended up with 36 chapters. I proofed the book myself, all through March 2013, getting rid of a much typos and mis-phrasings as I could find. After adding a new chapter and splitting up the last chapter into two, I finally finished IMAGES with a total of 39 chapters…28years after I started.
IMAGES finally went live on Amazon.com in time for my 25th wedding anniversary in May 2013. I didn’t know much about marketing. They don’t do that much with ebooks where I am. Sales are dismal but reviews are heartwarmingly good. I told myself that if it sells, it sells. If it doesn’t, at least I can tell myself that I finished it. Simon Anthony Craig is no longer a figment of my imagination. He’s out there, waiting to be discovered. I’m happy.
Now I’m writing my second book. Simon’s no longer bugging me. This time, it’s Alex. And his story is much harder to tell. I hope I don’t take another 28years to let him out.
February 2, 2015
Richard Bach...my undying gratitude for this book.
Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard BachMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
I read this in late 1978, at a time when I was lost and thought I could never find my way back. I cannot say enough and no one can fully grasp how lost I was back then.
I found this little book tucked away in a back shelf at home, forgotten and probably unread.
I don't know why I picked it up but, as soon as I set my eyes on the words of Jonathan the Seagull, I was found.
Suffice it to say that THIS is the book that changed my life.
None other.
It moved me. It grounded me. It anchored me to what mattered.
It gave me a clarity that, at 17, I needed the most.
Without this book, I would not have been the person I turned out to be.
It gave me strength and wisdom, and an understanding of myself that I will forever be grateful for.
Richard Bach, wherever you are...Thank you.
Your little seagull has fulfilled its task.
View all my reviews
February 1, 2015
"J. K. Smith has done it again!"
A Song Interrupted by J. Kaye SmithMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is Book 2 of Sebastian and Mia's story, which began with "When the Music Ends." Book 1 left me wanting more and Book 2 did not disappoint.
With Sebastian conveniently in London (which was for me a coward's way out for him to avoid accepting in his heart that he truly loved her), Mia has started to blossom. From being a repressed, battered victim, Mia has set herself on the path of finding her rightful place in this world as a strong, courageous woman. She will definitely not be the same Mia that Sebastian left behind.
I love Agnes Hafford! She is a gem! And she is the right person at the right time in Sebastian's life; she anchors him and makes him realize what he actually needs to complete himself. I truly wish she makes an appearance again in Book 3 : Adagio. I also wonder if Emilia figures further in the story as well.
J. Kaye Smith does not disappoint. Her characters are as engaging as ever and the pacing of the story moves quite well. I feel Sebastian's confusion and hesitancy; I connect with Mia's motives and decisions. And I do hope nothing ruins Ricci and Maureen's happily ever after.
A Song Interrupted has set the stage for Adagio. It's going to be a great ride towards a satisfyingly fantastic ending to the Bellini Series. I can hardly wait.
View all my reviews
January 3, 2014
"Alexander" Excerpt No. 2...Over Coffee
"Alexander" excerpt...
"So you see, Alex," she said in conclusion, cupping her coffee in her hands, "however much you're ashamed of your past and whatever baggage it is you're carrying - nobody's without baggage, no one's without a past." Her eyes looked into his with a challenge. "We, each of us, have something behind us that we have to deal with in our own way. So, at the end of the day, it's the future you map out for yourself that matters. Don't you agree?"
Watch out...it'll be worth the wait.
"So you see, Alex," she said in conclusion, cupping her coffee in her hands, "however much you're ashamed of your past and whatever baggage it is you're carrying - nobody's without baggage, no one's without a past." Her eyes looked into his with a challenge. "We, each of us, have something behind us that we have to deal with in our own way. So, at the end of the day, it's the future you map out for yourself that matters. Don't you agree?"
Watch out...it'll be worth the wait.
December 4, 2013
"Images" Kindle Countdown Deal!
Cuddle up for an early Christmas with Simon Anthony Craig and experience the anguish and ecstasy of love!
"Images" will be available for very special Kindle Countdown Deal prices on Amazon"s Kindle Store, in Asia starting midnight tonight until 11:59pm on 07Dec ((04Dec 8:00am until 06Dec 7:59am PST for the US & Canada)!
Grab your copy now!
http://www.amazon.com/Images-Miranda-...
"Images" will be available for very special Kindle Countdown Deal prices on Amazon"s Kindle Store, in Asia starting midnight tonight until 11:59pm on 07Dec ((04Dec 8:00am until 06Dec 7:59am PST for the US & Canada)!
Grab your copy now!
http://www.amazon.com/Images-Miranda-...
November 25, 2013
First look into "The Redemption of Alexander"
Alex knew his grandmother was missing her friends, who had all gone before her and had passed away. Beth was the last of her peers and the inevitable loneliness was setting in. He knew she was simply being realistic when she told him that she had outlived her usefulness, even if her family was telling her otherwise.
"I'm getting too old. I don't want to be a relic," she pouted at him, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "Or a history book that people refer to when they want to know more about an earlier time."
"You're not that, Beth," he tried to reassure her gently, but knowing behind his words that she was right.
"I only want to live long enough to see you finally happy, Alexander."
The very first sneak peek into "The Redemption of Alexander."
Coming your way soon!
"I'm getting too old. I don't want to be a relic," she pouted at him, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "Or a history book that people refer to when they want to know more about an earlier time."
"You're not that, Beth," he tried to reassure her gently, but knowing behind his words that she was right.
"I only want to live long enough to see you finally happy, Alexander."
The very first sneak peek into "The Redemption of Alexander."
Coming your way soon!
November 8, 2013
Writing is never easy
"Easy reading is damn hard writing." - Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804 - 1864)
So anytime you read something that flow from word to word, scene to scene, emotion to emotion - trust me, the author bled for you to feel this.
Writing is never easy.
If you felt every emotion the protagonists felt, the author went through the same hell and so much more.
Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying through his teeth.
So anytime you read something that flow from word to word, scene to scene, emotion to emotion - trust me, the author bled for you to feel this.
Writing is never easy.
If you felt every emotion the protagonists felt, the author went through the same hell and so much more.
Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying through his teeth.
October 6, 2013
Synonym
"A synonym is a word you use when you can't spell the other one" - Baltazar Gracian (1601 - 1658)
That's what a Thesaurus is for...
Oh, yes...and the Urban Dictionary if you want to stay current.
Of course, there is no other word that can match "f*ck" in syntax and expression.
And don't tell me you can't spell that... even if you're aren't allowed to say it!
That's what a Thesaurus is for...
Oh, yes...and the Urban Dictionary if you want to stay current.
Of course, there is no other word that can match "f*ck" in syntax and expression.
And don't tell me you can't spell that... even if you're aren't allowed to say it!
October 3, 2013
Staring out the window...
"What no (spouse) of a writer can understand is that a writer is working when he's staring out the window." - Burton Rascoe (1892 - 1957)
Your eyes look empty when you stare out but your mind is a-whirl and turning like mad...with visions of your scenes playing out like a movie in your head.
How they move...every gossamer breath on naked skin, every gentle touch, every fluid motion.
How they talk...the inflection of each word, the emotion behind each sentence said.
The glint of moonlight on a bare wooden floor...
The scent of pine and the cold touch of a mountain breeze...
The warmth of a crackling fire in a glowing hearth...
Yeah, right...and they think you're just sitting there doing nothing!
It is never nothing.
Your eyes look empty when you stare out but your mind is a-whirl and turning like mad...with visions of your scenes playing out like a movie in your head.
How they move...every gossamer breath on naked skin, every gentle touch, every fluid motion.
How they talk...the inflection of each word, the emotion behind each sentence said.
The glint of moonlight on a bare wooden floor...
The scent of pine and the cold touch of a mountain breeze...
The warmth of a crackling fire in a glowing hearth...
Yeah, right...and they think you're just sitting there doing nothing!
It is never nothing.
October 1, 2013
Let your story breathe
"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." - William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
...and let your story breathe for you.
With gasps of amazement, pantings of passion, gulps of dismay and deep inhales of acceptance.
All that your heart can bear...
Breathe life into every word, feel every nuance, experience every emotion.
And let it come alive, spread its wings and soar!
That is the only way.
There is no other.
...and let your story breathe for you.
With gasps of amazement, pantings of passion, gulps of dismay and deep inhales of acceptance.
All that your heart can bear...
Breathe life into every word, feel every nuance, experience every emotion.
And let it come alive, spread its wings and soar!
That is the only way.
There is no other.
