My head is going to explode...

Seriously... so much going on, so much to do! I am absolutely overwhelmed by my life right now. Well, okay, not so much...but it's still so freaking exciting!

The whole book thing? Yeah, like KAPOW! I've had so many welcoming emails from my fellow Entranced authors (we call ourselves "Entrancies"!) and the entire staff - it's like going to a new school and finding yourself in the middle of the BEST group of people evah!!! 

My editor, the amazing Tiffany Johnson, is working on the first round of content edits for Book 1 of the PHASMS series. I can't wait to see how bad I suck - gulp. Hopefully not too bad, but we'll see. I'm also about 20% into book 2 of the series, and have the outline for book 3 completed as well. If all goes according to schedule, book 1 will be out March/April of 2014, book 2 around October of 2014 and book 3 in the spring of 2015. SO exciting!

I've completed my cover design questionnaire for the first book - that was a blast to fill out and think about. I doubt I'm the only author who has visions in their heads of what they want their covers to look like...and the Entranced artists do an amazing job! Stop by their website and see for yourself (click here).

I've also completed an "author" questionnaire, prepared a bio and started thinking about things like book tours and signing events and blog tours and cover reveals and media releases and OMG so many things I didn't even think about before!!! So excuse me if I'm a little spastic these days. 

Also huge on the "Things To Do" list were Author Photographs. You know, the little glimpse of me on the back cover or in the end notes??? The Man Behind The Curtain and I spent time last night in San Diego's Little Italy with the amazing Kate Mills of "Chasing Daylight" photography getting the pictures done. Kate is fantastic, with a beautiful portfolio and just a blast to work with. She has infectious energy and a personality that keeps you smiling until your cheeks hurt. Her eye for contrast, background, setting and light is UH-MAZ-ING! I can't wait to see how the pictures turn out. I may even post my favorites here and let you pick which one I use...that would be fun, wouldn't it? 

I'm also going out on Saturday with my friend CP to do more pics. These will be totally different - looking some industrial, gritty images. We hope to be shooting at a shipyard (what can I say - it's where it all started), some cool and extremely San Diego images and a cemetery. Yes - a cemetery. Why? Well, you'll just have to read my books and find out, right? 

Also coming up - I've joined the FANTASTIC Masquerade Crew to do book reviews - here's my bio and more information than you ever wanted to know (wink, wink)! This is a fun opportunity for me to help other authors and because I read SO MUCH and so widely, I'm a good fit for this fun group.

Wow - I know I'm missing some really big news, but that's all I can think of for now. Keep checking back, as the fun has just begun!!!

And this is how it happened...

Hello my lovelies! I am soooo sorry for neglecting you, but it's been a bit of a whirl the last week. In way of an apology, I thought I'd tell you how my AMAZING THREE BOOK DEAL with Entangled Publishing came about. It's actually quite surreal!

It all started with a little tweet, like so:

#pitmad At 22 Kelsi lost her husband & maybe her mind. Is the dark haired man frm her dreams real? Y dz he look like her new neighbor?
— Barbara Garren (@bak229) May 28, 2013

From this little tweet, I received a request for partial (the first three chapters). From the first three chapters, about two weeks later; I received a request for the full manuscript. Uhhhh...

Yes, I had a completed manuscript. I would never pitch an incomplete story. The problem was, my CP hadn't finished critiquing it and I hadn't completed any of the edits. And oh, by the way, my CP was on vacation in Key West for the week. Perfect timing! Also, I was away from my computer for the week. What WAS I thinking? THANK GOD I always email myself the latest version of whatever I'm working on as a means of back up.

I fired off the most recent copy to CP, she did a wicked good chop on it and I was able to get it to Entranced by Friday. Working off an Iphone is a blast, folks. Just saying.

So, then the waiting begins, and it's like:

Sometimes you wait days. Sometimes you wait weeks. Sometimes, even, you have to wait months. Publishers, agents and others receive TONS of submissions. They try to give an honest evaluation to each of them. If you're lucky, you get something more than a form rejection. And you spend the time waiting for a reply like this:

And if you're really lucky, I mean Really, REALLY lucky, you get something like this:

Hello Barbara,

> 

>We thoroughly enjoyed PHASMS, and I am pleased to be able to offer you a contract for publication. Please take a look over the attached contract; be sure to read the addendum on the very last page. If you find the terms acceptable, sign the document and return it to me. I look forward to hearing from you.

> 

> Best,

> Managing Editor 

> Entranced Publishing 

And it comes to you three weeks after you submitted, while your at work, and you stare at the email. You read it again. You walk around your desk, reading it again. You clean your glasses, because you couldn't have read it correctly. You read it again. And then? Well, then you go all fangirl, bouncing around, biting your knuckles, trying not to scream. And you call your author friend, because you know she's the only person you can talk to who knows how you feel.

And she peels you off the ceiling, calms your ass down, tells you to breathe, lends you a mental shoulder to lean on and suggests you call the Man Behind The Curtain, because he really should be the next person to know.

And you call him. You call your Mom. You call your children. You call your CP and your best friend and your dentist and your hairdresser. You call every phone number you know or have with you, and when you get the pizza place down the street from you by accident, you tell them too, because hey! This is worth celebrating! Sort of like:

You celebrate the shit out of it! You drink Tequila (which you swore off of years ago when your father and God got you out of jail after too much of the stuff) and you drink beer and you dance on the patio and the Man Behind The Curtain puts you to bed where, thankfully, you sleep it all off and wake up hangover free.

You party the next day, because there are people to celebrate with that weren't available the day before, but you're a little smarter this time and you don't get drunk and you still can't sleep at night because you still can't believe it's real.

And then the publisher starts sending you documents to read and Cover Design Questionnaires and asks you for your bio and you get an email from your editor and see the timeline for getting the book ready for publication, all while your working on the second book, because you signed a THREE BOOK DEAL, and sometime while you're working on editing book two you'll have to write book three and it hits you. It really hits you.

You're no longer a writer. You are now an AUTHOR. And this is what happens next:

The names were changed in the writing of this blog to protect the innocent. No animals were harmed during production. Livers, however, were excluded from protection.

The Power of LUV!

I generally try to stay away from the sappy, sensitive, tender sort of thoughts and feelings. It's not that I don't have them, I just feel kind of awkward and weird showing them most of the time. I guess that comes from a lifetime working and hanging with the guys (who, by the way, I've learned are way more sappy, sensitive and tender than I ever could be.)

Yet, every once in a while, the urge to just snergle up and LUV someone breaks through the veneer and leaves me feeling all kind of wet and limp, like a dish towel. The last few days, with the support of the Insecure Writer's Support Group has been like that. Kind of amazing, how much encouragement and support you guys have given me.

And not just them - I've received awesome, supportive vibes from "friends" I've never met, all along the way. Like Val at flyingplatypi who has become a Twitter and Blogger friend and can always be counted on for a hug, a laugh and a shot of Tequila. And a bunch of other folks whose entree' into my life has been eerily well timed and curiously meaningful.

It all started with a fateful weekend at a writer's conference right here in my home time. I went to the conference not sure what to expect - I did some rogue read and critique workshops. I sat in on many, many seminars. I tentatively and nervously spoke to a few agents and to lots of other writers. And fate - or coincidence, or the Muse Fairy or someone looking over me introduced me to two people who would prove to be very important to me.

I met Mark Koopman's at a Rogue Read and Critique. That's where you sit around from 9 p.m. until good knows when in the morning reading your work, listening to other people read their work, and giving each other feedback: the good, the bad and the ugly. And Mark and I just seemed to connect. Maybe it was the fact that he had me read part of his book and I was laughing so hard half way through it the almost had to give me CPR. Maybe it was the crazy, late hours. I dunno. But Mark has become one of those stalwart, pat you on the back and interject good humor and sage words of advice kind of friends that we all need. Don't tell him I said this, but he's a really great guy. And, oh yeah, he's the one that introduced me to the amazing Insecure Writers' Support Group.  So I kind of owe him a drink. Or seven.

The other person I met is my CP, CP. She's my ace, my bud, my little sistah from anotha' mistah. We exchanged contact info at the conference, but I couldn't tell you where at the conference we met or what we talked about, other than possibly doing some critiquing. We didn't even exchange emails for almost a month after the conference, and didn't actually meet for probably another month, only to find out when we did meet that we lived three blocks apart from each other. Like, no shit, three blocks. And had so many, many delightful, engaging quirks in common, the least of which are excess amounts of swearing and alcohol. She's just - well, she's my Bud - and she keeps me keepin' it real.

And there's one more person who's arrival into my small universe has been amazingly well-timed as I venture forward on this writing thing... my friend Justine. I actually met Justine via her blog, via Sarah Fine's blog. She had a post one day that just lifted my soul (yes, I have one of those) at a time when it needed lifting. I sent her an email about it, and she responded. And I sent her another email. And she answered that one. And I read her books, and couldn't wipe the smile of my face. And we emailed some more. And we started following each other on Twitter. And now we are friends...though we've never met. And that really makes me smile.

And Fate keeps swinging along, cuz in May of next year I'm going to RT14 in New Orleans. CP is going as well. And I'll meet Sarah Fine and Stina and Nicole and Jaime and a whole bunch of awesome people I've met online - and guess who my room-mate will be? Yup - Justine.

Yeah. Gonna be a whole lotta love going on in the Big Easy. And all because of a little fate, a dash of coincidence and the power of WERDS!!!

So, here ya go - a well timed verse for Saturday's TOONZ!

How it works....sometimes

GOOOOD MORNING Faithful Followers.

I really wish I had sufficient PC skills to attach Robin Williams voice to that sentence, ala Good Morning Vietnam...

Yes, I know. It's shocking, it's 6 o'clock in the morning and I'm vertical, semi-dressed and almost in a good mood. Please, enjoy it while it lasts - it's like a cloud on a hot, dry day: it can disappear at any moment.

But while it's here, let me tell you that this week has been exceptional. Ex-Cep-Shun-All! A bit like...

Hmmm - senese a theme going on here? Might have been the gaggle of Marines that were hanging out in front of my office yesterday. Yes, God gifted me with Marines. Ooodles of them. They were scrumptious, yummy even! Tasty, like savory cupcakes without too much sweet frosting. MMMM, mmm, mmm. 

Aw, there I go digressing again. 

So, you ask, why was last week all "Good Morning, Vietnam," besides the fact it's one of my favorite movies of all time? Well, because it was a bit of good and bad, bitter and sweet. 

First, work was tough. Really tough. I can't go into specifics cuz I need to keep my job until I sell millions of books and become rich, but it just was. Stupid problems that should never have occurred, abject failure to follow policy and a lot of whining and complaining. And that was just on the government side - let's not even get into the contractors!

But, writing was good. My muse, the Valkyrie, must have swallowed mushrooms or got laid or something. She was soaring all week, higher and higher, bringing back the good stardust and sprinkling on my head and hands. She was generous and effusive and before I knew it I had 26 pages of a new novel safely tucked away, another 13 pages on the almost new story, 40 pages of the first novel revised and a 4,000 word short story completed.  

"Wait," you ask, "What do you mean a 'New Novel'? Weren't you already working on a new novel? And what's this 'almost new story'?"

Well, that's why I'm going all Adrian Cronauer on you... Let me try to explain.

1)  Book One: I finished it around the first of the year, shopped it around, got some nibbles, got a request for full, got turned down, sent it to my friend and author Justine and got four pages of tiny, tiny font feedback so I could go fix it. Which is what I'm doing now and I'm about a third of the way.

2) Then came Book Two: I finished it a couple months ago, didn't shop it around, was working on revisions to it with my critique partner CP, stupidly entered PitMad on Twitter, got a request for partial, got a request for full, made CP madly finish her critique, dashed off all the corrections and sent it in. And am waiting for results. And went ahead and submitted to a few other folks cuz why the hell not, I'm a writer, that's what we do.

3)  Short Story One: dashed off after dashing around the block with the dog one day. Submitted to about a dozen magazines, turned down by all but three, those three still pending. If they decline, I promise to publish here. 

4)  New story one, or "almost new story" was an idea I wanted to explore in a voice I hadn't used before. Girl after my own heart with much tequila, surfing, sex and general fun.  The Pro-tag cusses like a sailor (gee, go figure) and eats like a teenage boy. She's smart, stubborn, OCD and will make you snort coffee out your nose. Yup. She's me - back in the day. Story was coming nicely and I new where it was going to go as well. Probably about 10% written.

5)  Short Story Two: I'd been turning this around in my head since March, unsure how to actually get it started, but it finally found it's way out and I've sub'd to a small handful of magazine's to see if they are interested. It's pretty weird, which means it's pretty authentically me. It's not all snergly and there's almost no cussing, but it's still pretty "me."

Then along came New Story. THE story. It started with a single, completely out of context line as I was laying in bed the other night. I mean, the sentence could have gone anywhere, or nowhere. But between thinking it as I dozed off and waking up the next morning, the story had formed and was just dying to escape. I wrote the first chapter during lunch at work that day. And it kept coming. It's still clamoring at the tips of my fingers, begging to get out. It's AMAZING too! ROAR!

I can't wait to sub it out, 'cuz I have confidence this one is going places. And it's so damn fun to write - I even get to make up words and lot's of other cool things. I can't tell you much, but it's a mash-up of genres and the feedback so far is GOOD!  This is the one that had me crawling out of bed three times last night to add a line here, a paragraph there. I finally decided to just leave the damn computer on so I wouldn't have to wait for it, thereby risking the precious WERDS that were trying to make it out of my head. 

So, there you go. That's the sort of week it takes to make me feel this way. Not so hard to understand, right? I think, with that, I'm gonna take The Terrorist for a walk, so I can get back to writing.

Peace out, Ya'll! Here's your Saturday Tunes - make it a good one!

Mornings - FAAAAAAACK!

Yaaaa -eeeaaaaawnnnn.

Have I told you how much I dislike mornings? I would say "hate," but being a hater is on my list of things deemed socially unacceptable. Yes, I have a list. My husband updates it for me on a regular basis. I'm not the most socially adept person out there. Guess that's why I write.

So, mornings - yeah. One of the reasons I don't hate them is 'cuz I figure any day on the right side of the grass is a good day. One of the reasons I do hate them is 'cuz it takes me about 3 cups of coffee before I'm sure I won't bite the heads of small dogs and children.

I am the definition of "Not A Morning Person."

Well, except for one particular activity - which I have to say is always best in the morning.  But don't make any mistakes; this is NOT me int he morning (or anytime, for that matter):

If you've been reading along, which I KNOW you have because you love me and find me totally awesome in all my drunken drivel, then you know I was supposed to start driving in to work even earlier then the totally FAAAACKING insane hour my job requires. 

I was going to go straight to work, thereby avoiding all the traffic in the morning and go for a run. We have showers at work. We have coffee at work (if you want to call it that). We have no traffic at 0400 in the morning at work. 

Right? What the hell was I thinking? I haven't made it yet. I tried, but my ass was so firmly glued in bed all week, it was NOT happening. I'm sure it was pretty funny to watch as I shoved my work out clothes on to the closet floor and hit the snooze button. Several times. Because...

FAAAAACK. Oh, said that already. Sorry - still on that first cup of coffee.

I do actually plan on trying again this coming week. Hopefully things will fare better and I have a little less stress on the writing front. Speaking of which, here's where things stand:

First Book - received four pages (in minus 16 font) of questions, comments and revisions from an esteemed colleague that I am trying to incorporate. I'm about a third of the way through on that.

Second Book - thanks to the considerable effort and talents of CP, book 2 has been sent to the industry professional who requested it. Cross your fingers!

Short Story 1 - no takers yet. I have three more submissions pending and if they don't pick it up, I will *as promised* publish here.

Short Story 2 - yes, there is a short story 2. I just wrote it the other day. Needs some polish - and I'm sending it to CP so she can rip it to shreds (she's good at that, she's like a Komodo dragon on word steroids or something), then I'll shop it around.

I have a third story I'm dying to get to - got a few pages down so I can keep the *feels* before I get the chance to work on it. It's going to be fun, too - a real ball-busting riot, so I can't wait to go to work. I'll probably play with it later on today. After I've had more coffee. And some Scotch. 

Meanwhile, The Terrorist is growling and fanning me with his tail, which means he either needs coffee or a walk. So, that's it for now.

Oh, except for Saturday Faves! Happy day - I'm going to hook up the caffeine I.V.!!!

Careful what you wish for...

This whole week has been screwy.

Not in a "slightly off kilter, can't get my feet on the ground" way, but in a "what the fuck did I think I was doing?" way. Add auditory hallucinations and you've got screwy.

It didn't start out that way. In fact, it started out pretty normal. Like, June Cleaver normal. You know, kind of a mash-up of Brady Bunch, Gilmore Girls, It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia? Because that's how my life rolls, most of the time.

Work was normal. My minions attempted to tell me how well they were managing and I conveyed my usual faith in their abilities.

My husband was overworked, overstressed and overly horny, and I employed my always hugely supportive tactics to help him relax.

And I continued on in my normal, professional and efficient way ...

So, what's so screwy about that? Well let me tell you: I got another request for a full manuscript. At 5 o'clock in the morning. I know, what the hell am I doing up at 5 a.m.? Honey, if I have to explain my normal biorhythms to you, you ain't been readin' my blog enough!

Anyway - so, there I am, reading this request, freaking out because I only pitched it on a whim and totally didn't expect to get a request for a full (there's a serious life lesson there, folks!) and my CP is off partying her brain to slush while I've got a manuscript to polish. 

No, I don't blame CP - well, except for not taking me with her, but that's another story. 

I've got six loads of laundry to do, toilets to clean, a dog to walk, victuals to procure and oh, by the way, I'm hearing random buzzing sounds throughout the house. 

Like, bee buzzing sounds. 

Have I told you I'm allergic to bee's? As in, "free trip to the hospital" allergic? 

And before you ask, hell no, I do not have one of those cute little Epi-pens because in 52 years of living I've only been stupid enough to get stung once. Hence the awareness of the allergic reaction. Yeah - makes me look all: 

So - yeah, it's a weird fuckin' week. And I'm sitting here, trying to ignore the buzzing sound, trying to polish my manuscript before I submit it, wondering how long I can delay sending it in and, oh yeah - I'm outa scotch. 

Fuck. It's going to be a bitch of a weekend. 

Late breaking news: The Man Behind The Curtain has returned from slaying dragons, bearing bottles of scotch and rum. My attitude (and the buzzing in my head) has melted away. 

Of roller coasters, hipster boots and Whore Awards...

So, first of all, not only did I totally crap out on you and not post yesterday; I crapped out on the Insecure Writers Group as well. See, at least you're in good company!

Mea Culpa.

Yesterday was just one of those days when I couldn't find my ass with two hands and a flashlight. Yes, I know, an object that big should have landing lights, but they wouldn't have helped either. It was just one of those days - and it kept getting better.

In fact, the last thing I did yesterday (before crawling into a corner with my bottle and a pillow) was absolutely the worst and the funniest - I guess it got all the stupid out of me, because today was sooo much better. Not really, but that's another story. At least it wasn't as bad.

So, about last night: I met my Critique Partner, CP; for dinner. Nothing out of the norm there. We were talking about different things and somehow we started talking about sex scenes. See, my current WIP doesn't have one. Nary a pube in sight. HOWEVER, my last book has what I would deem an awesome, totally 'wait for the significant other to go to bed or read it in the bathroom' sex scene. So she demanded insisted asked I send it to her as soon as I got home. And I did.

I cut and pasted it right into an email and sent it straight to her. At her work account. With the Government. Doing highfalutin, extra secret spy stuff. With a sex scene in her inbox. Bwah ha ha!

She did NOT finding it amusing. Well, she sort of did. I re-sent it right away to her home account. Thank god there are no anatomically correct body parts listed in the entire scene. Except 'breast.' And 'butt.' And to think, I almost put "porn" as the subject line. THAT would have been freakin' hilarious!

Ahem. CP did not find that part amusing. At All. She did, however, greatly enjoy the scene itself, which she took a helluva long time reading. In the bathroom. While her husband slept. And then emailed me this picture:

So, I'm guessing she liked what she read. But I digress. Not really, but I like saying that: "I (pause for affect) digress!"

Where was I? Oh, yeah: what I'm saying is, even if I'd had the time (which I didn't, unless I skipped that first double-Scotch. Like that's ever going to happen) I didn't have any ideas for the blog post due yesterday. 

And today, as a comment left on yesterday's completely unsatisfactory "hey, I'm screwing you out of your Wednesday reading material" post, Kelly at dysfunctionallyfun gives me the Whore Award (see it, in the upper right corner? Awesome, right?) and the following visual prompt:

Now, what the hell am I supposed to write using that? I could go so many directions with this, none of them rated "G"! I'm gonna have to take a couple days to wrap my brain around this one (get it: corkscrew, round-wrapping rollee coastee picture and brain?). So, no. You still aren't getting THAT post. Check back Saturday. I should either be drunk enough Friday night or hungover enough Saturday morning to make something of it. Evil bitch from the depths of hell. 

Crap - did I write that out loud?

Now, on to the award, which is so totally awesome, even though I could never get my made-for-supporting-bridges-and-tunnels legs into them. 

Dum Dum DUMMMMM: The Whore It Up Award

Yes, there are rules. Even whores have scruples or guidelines or something. Don't worry, I checked with the muse (that slatternly slut) and she says they're cool:

Rules:

1. Upon receiving this award, you will receive a prompt. You are to write about said prompt. (Whenever you feel like it)
2. Link back to who gave you this award and include the picture of the award in your post.
3. Pass it to just five bloggers. (You can tag back if you want to read what your presenter has to say about the topic you come up with.)
4. Come up with a prompt for the five bloggers you chose.
5. When you do finally get around to writing the prompt, let the blogger who presented you this award know. So they can read it.

Now, for my victims awardees:
1. My CP, CP at n00bishdelight - cuz she's my bud and she's into Zombies and shit!
2. Stacey at maplesyrupland - because she's smart, funny and likes has plays with balls
3. Sporkchop at roflinitiative - I thought it would be hilarious to see a guy in these boots - maybe with something else on but not necessarily, and he posts some weird shit I really like.
4. Valerie at flyingplatypi - hey, anyone that licks anything like she does DESERVES these boots! Git yer mind out of the gutter and read her blog, damn you!
5. Summer at fizzygrrl - cuz since I started following her on Twitter, my life hasn't been the same. In a good way. Unless you have an issue with snorting coffee out your nose.

And here's your prompt: You just swallowed the most potent aphrodisiac known to womankind (no, it was not an American Express Centurion card). It lasts 72 hours MINIMUM. You are trapped in a room at the North Pole, with one other person. There is no hope of rescue, no place to hide. It's one big room. What happens?

Here's your companion:

Could be worse. Could be Taylor Swift.

Muah ha ha!

The Muse slept in...

Yup. She's running late. She's doing it on purpose, you know? She's mad at me. Having her little temper tantrum, dropping vowels and double dipping into the punctuation bin.

I don't know why she's acting like this. Is it my fault I have two books in revision? Is it my fault I went away for the weekend with The Man Behind The Curtain and left her at home? Is it my fault she got into the printer toner, sucked up all the good ink and was left with the hangover from hell?

I mean, come on, she's all pouty and sick and she missed the trash can and now I'm stuck cleaning up her mess? Where's the loyalty and respect in that? She acts like I can throw down a new storyline every time she wants to get some action.

She's all ...

It doesn't work like that. She may be all hot and lathered, but I need a little more foreplay - a touch of romance even. I can't just jump on the keyboard and start pounding away at her any, uh. Where was I?

Oh, yeah - the keyboard. Typing away at her ideas whenever she feels like dropping them off. It's like a teenager returning with loads of dirty laundry at the end of the college term.

IT'S NOT MY PROBLEM.

And she's such a bitch about it too. She gets all up in my temporal lobes, filling my nights with weird dreams, then she busts down the door to the occipitals and mashes in a bunch of equally weird visions and hallucinations.

Helloooo? Try driving much while images flash by like a slide show on crack?

I would tie her up and lock her in the closet but she'd like that. Bondage: it's her thing.

So, instead I try and dash a few notes down here and there. Story ideas, character sketches, scenes from bars and diners and beds that... Well - I'm just glad no one else has access to my computer.

It could be worse. I could have my CP's muse. She's been sending her images of Zombie sex and a fat China man who can't - uh - perform.

You, know, in comparison, my muse isn't too bad after all. Maybe I'll take her out for a short story this weekend, just so she feels appreciated.

When I'm bad, I'm better...

I've been bad lately. Really bad. I haven't been writing. I've been playing at editing and revising. I haven't hardly even been reading. Well, except for what I owed my Critique Partners. Yup - I've been pretty lazy about my books lately - and I don't even feel guilty.

Even now, preparing this blog post, I had to make two trips downstairs. I had to get a glass of wine first. I wasn't in the mood for scotch and Lord knows I can't write without SOME sort of beverage.

No, water does not count. I was thirsty, not dirty.

Then I had to get some popcorn. Yes, popcorn. The wine made me hungry. Don't roll your eyes - you've been reading my blog long enough to know that popcorn is one of my four primary food groups.

Now - where was I?

Writing - right. So, I'm a pretty OCD person. I do nothing half way. If I can't go all in, I won't even start. Thus the weirdness of this brief hiatus from writing. Well, I guess this is sort of writing, so I should say from "novel writing" or something more specific like that.

My problem is - well, it's spring. And it's gorgeous out. And I was on travel, and then I had a cold and then I had to catch up at work, which means I also had to catch up at home on things like grocery shopping and laundry and the husband and, and. And?

Yeah - the excuses aren't working are they? It's just that some one screwed up a couple thousand years ago and decided there would only be 24 hours in a day and 7 days in week and 5 of those days are work days. See where the problem lies?

So, it's not my fault there's not time enough to have friends over on Sunday for dinner. It's not my fault there's not time enough to get gas in the car, drop the dog off at the groomer's, get a pedicure and make dinner. It's not my fault there isn't time enough to fit in both a four mile run and four chapters of revisions. Nope. It's not my fault.

I'm not giving up. I'm not quitting or stopping. I'm just "Chillin' Out" while the chillin' is good. Because before I know it, I'll be locking myself up here again for hours on end - finishing revisions, sending a massive amount of queries to agents all over the globe and pounding away at the keyboard when the next great idea hits. But for now? Well, now it's time to just rock a little San Diego Spring! Hmmm - wonder if there's time for that new tattoo I wanted to get???

Critique Partners and Bonus Saturday Happiness!

I'm so lucky. Really - I am.

I have the fun/joy/honor/privilege of critiquing for not one but TWO amazing writers. And they both are amazing, knock your socks off writers! Man - I wish I could tell you their names. I wish I could tell you the names of the books I'm critiquing for them. But I can't. At least, not right now.

So here's the funny thing about the critiquing I do for them: I don't pay any attention to the spelling or punctuation errors. I don't get into the nits and grits of syntax and style. I might point out a word here or there that I think seriously detracts from what they are saying, but mainly I ply them with questions. Things like "why did the cactus hurt?" or "that doesn't sound like something that character would say."

See, they know they need to edit their own work. They know they have to comb through for all the conflicting tense and verb usage. They don't need me for that. They need me (I like to think) to challenge the story itself. To question and poke and prod and point out the bits that don't flow, don't sound true to the rest of the story and don't support the overall plot or character arch. They need me to say "add more here so I know what the character is feeling" or "wow, you over did the emotions/descriptions here and lost the momentum."

They need me to move from draft to final - same as I need them.

As writers, we mostly know when we have a good story. We know how to develop a character and set a scene, how to move the story along or slow it down. But we also can get a little near-sighted and assume our readers have the same point of reference as we do. And they don't. They can't. They aren't us. They haven't lived our lives, experienced what we've experienced or even known the people and places and events that we have experienced.

Many of our readers may come close to mirroring our scope of reference, but none of them will have an identical range of reference in their lives. And this live-long knowledge, this personal collection of experience colors how we read. It allows each of us to feel and visualize and savor a book, a poem, a short story or a photograph in a unique way.

As writers, we need to keep that in mind. We need to ensure our writing provides enough points of reference and sufficient detail to allow all of our readers to grasp the images we are striving to portray. It's a delicate balance - often a difficult one as well. We don't want to put too much detail in, as it can make the reading stilted and cumbersome. Sometimes it even insults the reader - I know I've read plenty of books where I've thought to myself "well duh, I knew that. Why does the author feel they need to explain this to me?"

I don't want to insult my readers - I don't want to leave them with a half-sketched image and I don't want to describe everything in such detail that I end up with a Mitchner-esque tomb. I rely on my CP's to help me keep the balance and keep the story enticing. I rely on them to keep me honest to the craft.

So, here's to my Critique Partners - I hope I'm asking the right questions (should that be "write" questions?) and making the right comments. Now, let's go find an editor!

Bonus Saturday Happiness:

I.O.U.

Okay, I owe you a post. But this ain't it. It's not happening today. Cuz I'm sick.

See, I had to fly to the east coast for work this week. Last weekend, while meeting with my Critique Partner I mentioned the trip. CP, who is my CP (really, her initials are CP) mentioned how much she disliked flying because of being cooped up with everyone else's germs. I scoffed at her remark and boldly stated "I don't get sick." Yeah, you know the rest.

God has a crappy sense of humor.

I made it through the first 2 days of meetings. I actually made it in for the third day of meetings, after stopping at Walmart for some serious cold meds and throat lozenges. I didn't make it in Friday. I barely made it to the plane to fly home today. When Hubs picked me up at the airport he poured me into the truck, drove me home and tucked me on the couch with a hot mug of something (I'm pretty sure there's booze in it) and my laptop.

What a guy - he knows how dedicated I am to you guys and that I hadn't made my normal Saturday post.

So - this is it. This is all your getting today. I'll make it up to you, promise. Soon as I'm done hacking my lungs out.

Revising and Editing...

Okay. I HATE editing. Really. It makes me feel like this:

 

 

 

Don't get me wrong; I do edit. I just don't LIKE doing it. When I write, it's verbal vomit. It all comes out in a rush (or several periods of rushing) and I just go with it. I don't worry about grammar or punctuation or spelling. I let the story and the character and everything else flow out; all the emotion and the world building and the vision exiting my finger tips and magically appearing in black and white on the screen in front of me.

I run spell check. I even run the grammar check tool. But at some point, I have to break out the red pen and read the damn thing. And I still don't mind that part. I do like reading what I wrote. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cringe. Sometimes I even wipe tears from my eyes. It's the pen, and the marks on the paper and the notes asking myself why I wrote something or marking where I need to add more. It's the time that I have to put into the process that I resent. Time taking me away from the creative element, from crafting new stories and tales. That's the part I really hate about editing and revising.

I want it perfect the first time, every time. Like this:

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

But more often it's like this:

 

 

So what's a writer to do? Well, there aren't that many options. Oh, sure, if I had the bucks, I could hire an editor. But I don't. I could subject my Critique Partners to my first drafts. But that's a good way to lose CP's quickly. I could write slower or more carefully or with less Scotch. Naw. We all know THAT'S not going to happen!

So, I'm stuck. And I'm revising. And editing. And learning to appreciate it as part of the overall process. To see it as "IMPROVING" instead of tedious, time-consuming, brain-draining necessity.

And hopefully, in the end, I'll end up here:

 

 

 

But until then, I hate it. Really. And I put it off as long as I can. And even when I do it, I miss stuff. Even when I revise, I feel like it could be better. Or I shouldn't have cut/changed/added what I cut/changed/added. Or like I'm never going to get it done. Get it good enough. Get it out "there." After all - I'm one of them, one of you, one of us. I am, truly, an insecure writer.

 

Guess I'm in the write place.

 

"E" is for Effect...And most people missed it!

Yesterday, as part of the A to Z blog challenge; I purposely skipped the letter "E" and went straight to "F" - and no one noticed. At least, no one said that they noticed. I even tweeted about it, with zero comments.

So, either no-one's reading or no one thought enough about it to say anything. Maybe you thought I had a temporary break from usual pedantic logical self. Not too far fetched, if you really know me, but not the case.

Maybe you found my Fabulous Friday of Musical Fare more entertaining - also unlikely. My Blogger Dashboard shows plenty of traffic yesterday. My Twitter Feed indicates some of you really do read my blather. So what gives?

I can only think you found other fodder on the blogosphere more tempting and comment worthy. And that's OK! I pulled my alphabetical slight of hand for effect, not for numbers and feedback. Because really, as writers, words and punctuation are the only means we have to deliver effect.

I worked with a critique partner a little while ago who didn't get my use of either - I had to drop her eventually. I have my own style, my own means of pacing both the scene and the story, and she was a grammar/punctuation virtuoso who could not cope with my purposeful warping of style. Don't get me wrong, she was very nice, very intelligent. I did garner some excellent feedback from her, but she absolutely could not comprehend why someone would voluntarily bend or break the laws of grammar.

Here's an example. This is a paragraph from my latest WIP, as I wrote it:

        I grab the trash can and start emptying the guac into it. It sticks to the bowl, congealed. Solid. I bang it against the side of the can, but it won’t come out. I throw the entire bowl in the trash. I grab the tuna casserole, look at the glass dish it came in and throw it in the trash on top of the guacamole. I grab the mac and cheese, the salad, the soup and the pie and the jam and the mayonnaise and I throw it all in the trash.

I hear glass breaking and I’ve missed the can and I’m standing in a pile of broken glass and food and bits of foil and plastic wrap and I’m throwing everything in the trash and the tea kettle’s whistling and I can’t stop yelling, screaming, cursing, calling him names and swearing at him and asking him why? Why did he leave me? Where did he go? Why couldn’t he take me with him? How could he leave me? How could he go away and leave me? Why can’t he come back? What do I do now? What the hell am I supposed to do now? How could he do this? How could he be so fucking selfish? I hate him! I hate him! I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care if I never see him again. Where is he? Where is he? Oh God, I need him and he’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone.

Hopefully, at this point your stomach is clenched, your breathing a little faster and you are seriously emoting with the main character.


Now, here is the same paragraph, as she corrected it:

      I grab the trash can and start emptying the guacamole. It sticks to the bowl, congealed and solid. I bang the bowl against the side of the can, but it won’t loosen. I throw the bowl in the trash. I pick up the tuna casserole looking at the glass dish it came in. I throw it, too in the trash, on top of the guacamole. I grab the mac and cheese and the salad, then the soup and the pie and finally the jam and the mayonnaise, throwing all in the trash with the other items.

I hear the sound of glass breaking. I’ve missed the can and now I’m standing in a pile of broken glass.  Food and bits of foil and plastic wrap lie all around me. I was throwing everything in the trash and the tea kettle started whistling.  I couldn't stop yelling.  I was screaming and cursing.  I was calling Jamie names and swearing at him.  I was asking him why he left me? Asking where he went and why couldn’t I go with him? 

        I wanted to know how he could have left me and why he couldn't return to me. I kept asking what I should do now? I hated him at this moment. I didn't care that I would never see him again, but at the same moment I knew all I wanted was to see him again. 

A little flat, right? I mean, not horribly - you still get the intent and the drama, but you lose that emotional gut-check on her sanitized version. And at this point in the story, I need you to have that feeling. I need you to be completely absorbed in the main character's emotions. The story doesn't work without it.

This is the difference when you write for effect - when you consciously choose specific grammar, syntax and punctuation to create the emotional mood or element the story needs. 

In this case, I needed the reader to connect to the main character, to understand the raw power and conflicting emotions that terrible loss can bring to bear. Cleaning up the spelling and adding proper style elements doesn't get us there. We have to write for effect. All. The. Time.

Writerly Resources...

So, I've been trying my hand at this "writing" thing for the last few months and I must say, I like it! I've received amazing feedback and encouragement from family and friends. That's to be expected. We all get the pat on the head and the crooning "that's nice, dear" from parents and spouses.

What I didn't expect was the feedback I received from professionals in the publishing community. People who do this for a living. People who don't have to be nice to me. People who don't even have to talk to me. But they did, and their words fill my head like a comet - I stretch my neck, look up to the heavens and have to ask "did that really just happen?"

Earlier this week I was feeling down in the dumps, but thanks to some folks who have been doing this for a while, I perked right back up and set my gaze skyward again (see previous post). A lot of it has to do with some amazing, generous, talented folks out their on the web. Here's a few of my favorites, and how they helped:

Janet Reid: For those of you who don't know, Janet is the always honest, sometimes painful and mostly humorous Query Shark. A highly sought after agent and advisor, she gives a lot of her time back to those of us still trying to find our way to publication. If you haven't followed her blog or tweets, you're missing out. I had the opportunity to exchange a few emails with Janet, and though she wasn't quite interested in my novel, she loved the bio I included in my query. I had struggled with that part and reading her comments made my day!

Query Tracker:  Even if you don't pay for a subscription to this amazingly helpful submittal tool, the blog is worth reading on a frequent basis. The shortcut to "Essential QT Blog Posts" is a must - filled with helpful resources for any writer. Some of the recent posts I found especially helpful were:

• No Excuses - A post about pushing yourself past that inevitable absence of the muse. You know, that time when, half way through your WIP the entire story falls flat and you don't write anything for days on end? 
• The Heroic Journey of Every Writer - This is actually Part I of a two part post dealing with the journey that finally makes us stick our butts in a chair and start writing and the power we gain from each rejection we receive, if we are only willing to listen to the unspoken AND spoken words of criticism. This was an extremely powerful discussion for me, reminding me why I was writing in the first place, and making me address the real reasons I kept writing.

I could list more, but you really should check the site for yourself!

The Other Side of the Story:  Janice Hardy's blog has a wealth of information, nicely titled and organized on the left side of the page. Well written, well structured, plenty of guest posts and full of information from planning your novel to selling and marketing, Janice does an amazing job helping the other 99% - you know? Those of us still trying to figure it out? Yesterday's post included her establishment of a Yahoo Group to help us find Critique Partners - those necessary and highly elusive helpers we all struggle to catch. Thanks Janice!

Twitter: Okay, okay - I know what your thinking: How can twitter help me stay focused, improve my writing and better my spirits? Here's how: writers write (usually) in solitude. Humans are social creatures. Twitter allows you to combine the two. 

Wait - there's more! Do you check the Profile Summary of someone who's tweets you read? Usually it identifies their web or blog site. Do you go there? You should. How do you think I "met" Justine Dell the other day? How do you think I chatted via email with Janet Reid? You don't really think they happened across my meagerly tweets or blog and decided to come calling, do you? 

Reach out. Explore. Research. Would you prefer typing words to reading them? Sure, most of us would. But the reading will help. Really. How else would you know what to put on the page?