What are the
mistakes you see in beginner writers?
Ha! I guess we should start with the
ones I made: sending material out before it’s done, lack of
proofreading, lack of patience. Patience is the big one, though.
Writing takes time. You have to re-write and edit. You have to read
things over and over. You have to be sure about what you’re trying
to say.
I originally sold my book Saving
Mary: The Possession (under a different title) to a large
publishing house (back in 2002/03). Looking back, I see that I had
originally sold a first draft; and as the publishing process chugged
along, I became more and more uncomfortable about my book being
released. It simply wasn’t finished, at least not in the way I
meant for it to be done. My lack of focus (I personally think)
transferred to the publishing house and I was soon faced with a
problem: what I had meant to be a “personal memoir” had somehow
turned into “Christian fiction.” Eventually I was allowed out of
my contract so that I could rework the book as true memoir. You see,
I had changed my name (and the names of most people in the book)
simply because I was uncomfortable with being in a book (I figured
other people might be just as uncomfortable). I didn’t think this
would be a problem since “A rose is a rose, by any other name.”
But it was. First of all, you simply can’t be uncomfortable with
being in a book if you want to write a memoir. You just have to get
over yourself. This is your life: your experiences, your friends,
your view. You have to own it. The second problem was that the author
of A Million Little Pieces had just been scolded by Oprah for
not sticking to the rules of memoir. My publisher wanted to take no
chances and so they switched my book to “fiction.” Without
consulting me. So, with all this being said, make sure you finish
your book, staying true to the vision you see and hear in your head.
The other big mistake I see writers
making is showing their work to the wrong people. Not everyone should
critique your work. Not everyone believes you can succeed as a
writer. And too many opinions can confuse a new writer. Figure out
what you want to say and then work at saying it as best you can.
Deidre D
Havrelock grew up in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada where she eventually
met her husband to be, DJ. It was DJ who initially noticed Deidre’s
dark state and worked to seek out someone willing to perform her
exorcism. Eventually, the newlyweds found their way to the southern
hot spot of Brooks, AB where Deidre began writing. From there the
family trekked across eastern Canada to Moncton, NB where they
learned to love French fries with cheese curds and gravy. Currently
nestled in the hills of Kennewick, Washington, Deidre has two horses,
one dog, three cats and too many rabbits…and let’s not forget her
wonderful husband and three energetic daughters. Her memoir, Saving
Mary: The Possession chronicles
her dark childhood and the path that led to her demonic possession.
She is currently working to finish book two of her spiritual memoir,
Saving
Mary: The Deliverance.
You can find her at www.deidrehavrelock.com
If you’re a fan of supernatural
fiction then you will be captivated by this true story about a
spiritually sensitive girl and the path that led to her possession.
Part one of a two-part series, Saving Mary is the story of a
modern-day Mary Magdalene—the woman from whom Jesus cast out seven
demons.
Deidre Daily is drawn to anything seemingly spiritual, desperately seeking a spiritual existence. But inside this vibrant girl hides a terrified child who sincerely believes she has married the devil. Through a series of spiritual encounters her fear turns into reality, and she ends up possessed.
Deidre’s fascinating spiritual memoir relays her story from childhood to adolescence: invisible eyes leering at her from the corner of her bedroom, horrible nightmares tormenting her, and her desperate attempt to find God—only to end up possessed. It is a candid account of possession from a first-person perspective. This dark memoir brings to light an intricate world of deceitful spirits hell-bent on manipulating and damaging an innocent girl’s life, not only through her dreams, but also through seemingly every-day encounters.
Deidre Daily is drawn to anything seemingly spiritual, desperately seeking a spiritual existence. But inside this vibrant girl hides a terrified child who sincerely believes she has married the devil. Through a series of spiritual encounters her fear turns into reality, and she ends up possessed.
Deidre’s fascinating spiritual memoir relays her story from childhood to adolescence: invisible eyes leering at her from the corner of her bedroom, horrible nightmares tormenting her, and her desperate attempt to find God—only to end up possessed. It is a candid account of possession from a first-person perspective. This dark memoir brings to light an intricate world of deceitful spirits hell-bent on manipulating and damaging an innocent girl’s life, not only through her dreams, but also through seemingly every-day encounters.
Excerpt :
Chapter
Four
Curses
Me and Kelly, we
make plans for sleepovers all the time. We don’t ever sleep at my
house. We sleep at her house. I sleep over at Kelly’s a lot ‘cause
I know there’s no little eyes or ghosts creepin’ around at her
house.
At
Kelly’s house we play in her playhouse. We sit on neatly stacked
bricks, pretending they’re chairs. She’s writing the rules for
our new club. I’m colorin’ the membership cards, tellin’ her
about the little eyes in my house. She calls me a freak. I then
decide to tell her about a dream I had. The one she was in.
“It’s
dark outside. And quiet. The leaves in the trees aren’t moving,
that ugly ol’ Fort Road is empty and the street lights—they’re
dim. Only the moon gives light. It all looks like one of those old
pictures, you know, shadowy and still. The only sound comes from
Angie’s shiny black tap shoes as she moves down the sidewalk.
They’re all, clippity-clop, clippity-clop,
CLIPpITY-CLOP, clippity-clop ’cause of the
echo. Angie isn’t dancing though. She’s just walking, wishin’
her shoes would shut up. We’re all wishin’ her stupid shoes would
shut up. You turn to Angie with your eyebrows pointing to your nose.
The way you do when you’re mad … ”
I
tell Kelly about the church and about the robbers and about how she
hid and how I didn’t hide very good. She says, “That figures.”
And we laugh. Then I say how I was pulled to the altar, how I was
made to get married and how I was kicking and screamin’.
“But
nobody even cared,” I say. I take a yellow crayon, start colorin’
a picture of a bee. Then I tell her how I pulled the robber’s mask
off.
“It’s
hanging from my hand, his mask. And I don’t know what to do now,
and I’m wishin’ I hadn’t done it at all. I look around for you,
hoping you might come out from hiding, but you don’t.”
“What’s
he look like?” asks Kelly.
“He’s
cute,” I say. “With short brown hair. He smiles at me, shaking
his head a little like he’s saying, ‘You know, you shouldn’t
have done that’—pulled his mask off he means. He feels weird.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah,”
I go. “Weird. Nothin’ about him feels right. He’s all wrong.
And he’s got these black eyes that look and pull all at the same
time, so I wanna run away but I can’t.”
“So
what do you do?”
“I
smile, just a little, to say sorry. But I don’t think he cares
’cause he doesn’t smile back. Then I spy around for you. I’m
still hoping you might come out and do somethin’. That’s when he
starts laughing.”
“Why’s
he laughing?”
“’Cause
he knows you aren’t coming, and even if someone did come—it’s
too late. We’re already married. He laughs harder and harder ’til
the laughing changes him.”
“Changes
him?”
“Yeah,
his hair—it starts going all creepy. It’s red now.”
“What’s
creepy about red?”
So
I tell her how his hair’s turned into red-hot flames. How he’s
laughing with his head tilted back. His hair swishin’ and glowin’,
all on fire.
“Does
he do anything else?”
“He
smiles at me—big, really big.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause
he knows I’m scared and he thinks it’s funny. Then his face also
starts changing. Like it’s made of Play-Doh.”
“Play-Doh?”
“Yeah,
like when he smiles the smile changes. It keeps twistin’ itself up
all screwy-like.”
“That’s
more like Silly Putty,” says Kelly.
“Sure,”
I say, “like Silly Putty.”
“Man, I
wouldn’t’ve hid. I woulda beat the crap outta him.”
“I know you
woulda.”
“Geez, Dede. You
married the Devil.”
I nod. “I know,”
I whisper. Then I say, “Kelly, can you divorce the Devil?”
“Don’t
know,” says Kelly. “I guess you’d hafta find God for that.”
I
put down the yellow crayon, pick up a black one and write ‘Busy Bee
Club’ at the top of the membership card. I’ve got a heaviness on
me now. Like when something’s gone wrong and it’s got to be made
right. Just then Kelly goes, whack! hitting me right in the
shoulder; she tells me to get up.
“Let’s
walk to your house, so you can get some clothes for the sleepover,”
she says. Down the alley we go where two big kids stop us and ask if
we want a knuckle sandwich. Kelly pulls her eyebrows down, says,
“No!”
I
say, “Yes.”
They
punch Kelly in the face.
Giveaway
Deidre will be giving away an ebook copy of Saving Mary during her tour, you can follow her tour HERE, and leave a comment for a chance to win.
