NaNo Lessons and Lynn Viehl Giveaway Winner

I wasn't going to do NaNo this year. I'd done it before, won before and not won before, and last year, though I did okay on the word count, also wound up in a mental muscle cramp a good deal of the time and ended up putting a book of my heart on the back burner for all the debris to settle before it's time to revisit that story. Not the ideal outcome, but sometimes, we have to go through such places in our writing lives.

It wasn't until days before the start that I signed up this year, and decided that I had nothing to lose by doing something radically different. For me, this NaNo, this was...not count words. Fired up Zen Writer with a pretty background, did a lot of longhand writing, and decided to do what came naturally. Which turned out to be a) writing longhand first, and b) working scene to scene.

Also helpful was becoming involved in the social aspect of NaNo, something made easier by the fact that the kickoff party was held at my favorite coffee house, literally a two minute walk from my home. I didn't make it to most of the events, but the Facebook group for local NaNo people is still going strong. I met two new friends through the group. While I didn't make fifty thousand words, my goal wasn't a number, but a story, and that's what I got. I got to the end of my draft. I had fun.

The draft I have isn't perfect, and it's going to need some work, but the story is told, and that's a success. Not a NaNo win, but a success. I'll take it, and move on to the next project, with a new set of skills and a better knowledge of what works for me.

Speaking of moving on, let's move on to the big reveal...

Our lucky winner for the Lynn Viehl giveaway is....

:drumroll:

BUNNY Bunny, please contact me at: AnnaCBowling@gmail.com with your mailing address, and Lynn will get that big bundle o' treasures headed in your direction.

40255

I did not win NaNo this year, and I am okay with that. I didn't think I would be. I like to win. If I keep on at the same pace, I will hit 50k on December 7th. Not too bad in that respect, and since I was a rebel this year and worked on a project that was already in progress, I may be there already but I'm not doing that math at this point.

What I did win was A) the new writing schedule fitting itself into place, B) finding out what pace is good for me right now, C) 40,255 more words written than I had on November 1st. Also D) I write big, and trying to ignore that and go for anything else is not going to work.

I learned that the laundromat is an amazingly good place for writing longhand, and that it is possible to get pounced by heartbroken pirates in such a place. He followed me home and I'm keeping him. Since said pirate is fictional, DH is fine with this. I have even volunteered to babysit Housemate's laundry in order to get more writing time.

Bring on December.

Thankful

On Monday, DH wasn't able to go into work due to the strong pain in his left foot. Since that's the foot where his gout flares, we figured that might be it. It wasn't. The usual meds weren't working, so Tuesday was twelve hours in the ER. Mostly waiting, as one might expect. Still not the record holder. (For those counting, that's still thirteen hours with my dad.) At the end, the diagnosis was Achilles Tendonitis, which wasn't treatable in the ER, but we were referred to an orthopedist we needed to see the next day.

Which we did. DH was told to stay off his foot and on some good pain medication. He took the meds but the crutches are still propped in the corner of the bedroom where I put them when we got home. He prefers his shillelegh, which was my grandfather's and then my father's and now his. Tuesday afternoon was DH at home getting some rest and housemate and I driving to unknown territory to get a topical painkiller from a holistic pharmacy. Headed back home, completely exhausted. DH had been up and about while we were gone, which I probably should have seen coming. I know this guy.

While nobody likes Achilles Tendonitis, I'm thankful that's all it was. I'm thankful that DH was able to decide, halfway through the cooking process, that he was going to take over anyway so I could do the last minute tidying and arranging of seating. I'm thankful that DH wasn't in respiratory distress. That his kidneys weren't failing and that we could use the dinosaur spit, as DH termed the topical painkiller, instead of the oral remedy that would have put him at risk for more kidney trouble. I'm thankful that he's able to get around with the shilleleagh and should be cleared to go back to work in a few days. I'm thankful we had the best Thanksgiving ever and, after a wonderful dinner, were able to flop in our comfy chairs and trade battle stories of horrible Thanksgivings past with our guests.

I'm also exhausted. I'm thankful I could be there for DH, but caregiving can rip absolutely every resource out of a person. Glad to do it, glad to rest from it and replenish. We weren't able to do Black Friday this year, and I know for a fact I'm not going to win NaNo this year. Because the Christmas ornaments my family has put up since before I was even born are in the back of the storage unit in another state, we have to get all new for this year, and I really wanted the traditional ones. Won't mind buying new shiny, pretty things, but I miss the cardboard Christmas tree I made in preschool.

DH says he has to admit the dinosaur sit works better than he thought it would, and he's looking forward to getting back to work soon. It's funny looking at getting back to normal when the new normal hasn't been fully formed yet. We still don't know-know anybody in the region, are still finding our way around, but we're home, DH's ER visit was not of the life threatening sort, and I'm thankful for that.


Photo courtesy of Samuraiantiqueworld

No, I was not playing chess

When I was a teen, and I had an important school paper to write, I had to sit in the antique chair in the front hall and wasn't allowed to move from it until I had the draft done. I'm not sure if that chair made it when we moved things out of my dad's house, but it's not that particular physical chair that's the important part.

Needless to say, I haven't managed to completely distance myself from my own posterior, and the variety of chairs and corners of floor on which it has been parked probably do not bear numbering. Today (well, yesterday, to be honest; I didn't take pictures of where I sat today) I'm parked in the coffee shop again, in what has come to be my regular time for NaNoing. I would say for writing, but that happens in other places as well, as evidenced by the Moleskines that I keep filling, but we're talking NaNo stuff here.

Ask me on any given day how NaNo is going, and you're likely to get a different answer. From yesterday's really good session to today's wanting to curl in a ball and sob for an hour, venting to a nonwriter friend (who is writer-friendly) and then dragging my battered writerly ego back to the keyboard to see what more I can eke out, because if I don't tell this story, nobody else will. This NaNo has, so far, beaten me up more than the others. Today, for example, I had a casualty, ripping a secondary character whom I really like out of the story because everything else having to do with him had been deep-sixed and the things went better if my heroine did what this guy would be doing in this, basically his lone scene left in this version.

Still behind on count, but there's still a lot of November left in which to get things current. It's not always easy, but if the butt is in a chair and the fingers are on the keyboard and my head in the story, then one figurative foot in front of the other. I've done NaNo excited and prepared, trepidatious and only semiprepared, and this year, it's not so much a feeling as a determination. Maybe moving and family colds and all of the rest took up everything else. Whatever the cause, this year's NaNo sessions feel a lot like those papers and the chair in the front hallway.

In both cases, this puppy's got to get done, and nobody is going to do it but me, so onward.

Enthusiastic and Enthralling, said the barista

The barista who served me said his words for the day are "enthusiastic" and "enthralled." He told me he was enthusiastically enthralled to serve me tea, and I replied that I was about to enthusiastically write something enthralling.

This, I should note is not it. Well, probably not. If my ramblings (and random photo from our street) enthrall, then that's serendepity. Which may or may not end up being a word of the day tomorrow.


I'm behind on my NaNo count, the good side of that being that I now know that I did need to reoutline. The bad side is that I am behind on my NaNo count and that makes me crabby. I do not recommend moving to a different state during NaNo or the weeks immediately prior, or during a presidential election. Especially if it's A) the move from two different levels of hell, B) includes more than one anxiety attack, and C) two incidents of Martian Death Cold, one with an upgrade that includes the need to wash down walls and purchase a new bucket.

The new writing schedule hasn't yet solidified, but I am writing daily, making sure that family knows those two hours a day at the coffee shop are *mine* and if the office door is closed, that means I am busy. End of story. Which will go a long way to getting to the ends of stories. I don't expect I'm going to get to the end of an entire novel during NaNo, but fifty thousand words in? Yes, I can do that. Won't be perfect, but it will be written.

I'll be honest, there are, and have been for a while, days when I don't think I can write my own name, when it feels like I'm floundering and it wouldn't matter if I gave up. Thing is, I can't. I've tried to not write. It didn't stick and it made me miserable. Better by far to keep going, even when it's rough. These characters and their lives and worlds and all of that stuff is in my head and it has to get out, even when real life has other ideas. Besides, there is no really good idea section of Barnes and Noble. It's all finished books.

Which is why it's butt in chair and fingers on keyboard and filling notebooks and one foot in front of the other on and on until The End are the last words on the page. That won't happen today, but the pages I write today are that many pages more than if I'd done nothing at all. There will be a schedule in place at some point, but that's not my main concern. So, off to fill some pages. Tomorrow, there will be more.

'Twas the Night Before NaNo

...no rhymes about what's all through this house (the actual apartment or the dollhouse-that-got-moved-instead-of-stored-but-looks-so-good-on-top-of-this-dresser-that-is-in-dining-room-we-don't-mind) but as NaNo does indeed begin tomorrow, I have only in the last 24 hours decided to be a rebel and work on the current WIP, which is to me a new book in many ways, that's what I've got this morning.



The cafe from which I wrote the most recent entry here has been closed for several days, not sure why, so new home away from home is here. No fireplace, but I love the brick walls, the fact that it's in a basement, the comfy chairs gathered around tables, the helpful staff (extra kudos to the nice German gentleman who recommended honey for my lost voice -physical, not authorial) and the fact that they have chai.

New writing routines are still working themselves out. Linda is back in CT for one last haul of her stuff, DH and I are both in the grips of Martian Death Colds, which manifest in different ways for each. I lost my voice completely for a few days but can now croak out a few words. He wouldn't appreciate my sharing his worst symptom, so I'll skip that, but we're both hopefully on the mend. I have found out that when the heat is cranked up the slightest of notches, my office is the snuggest, most comfy place in the whole apartment, and the actual officey stuff is taking shape.

In a way, I like not having things set up yet. My new desk, actually one I coveted as a kid, is about half the size of my old one, which did not make the move with us (by choice.) This means no room for clutter, only what I absolutely love and need. This is also true for books; I brought my absolute classic must haves, and the rest are in storage. This also includes new titles that I have bought but not yet read. Those are all in neatly labeled boxes, and I can pick up one at a time from the unit, read through, trade in/donate those that aren't keepers. (More on that later.)

It's along those same lines with writing. What do I really, really love? Historical romance, heavy on both, thanks. Love that is worthy of record, characters who are people of their time (or times, with time travels, which in my mind count as historicals, at least the way I do them) and taking the hard road to happily ever after. That's enough. NaNo starts tomorrow? Bring it on.

Personal Archaeology

Our family is getting ready to make a much-anticipated move (that's our soon to be dining room in today's picture) which means that we are now in the decluttering and packing phase.

We've been in the same place for double digit years now, so there are a few time capsules to be found now and again. Today was one of them. This morning was rough, and I needed some time before I could face the keyboard, so to the boxes I went. We'd put this stuff away to look at later, and from the dates on the magazines, it looks like this was from slightly before my father's Alzheimer's diagnosis. I found a print galley of a favorite author's second book. Two spiral notebooks and one composition book with black pages, for writing on in white ink. Letters from friends. Printouts of pieces I'd written for fan publications. A big black binder with the printout of my first novel, My Outcast Heart. Handwritten notes from a talk a visiting rabbi gave at our church. Magazines for interests that I still hold and some that I no longer do.

I sorted. I read. I relived, all under the watchful eye of Skye kitty. I sorted into trash/donate/pack. I remembered how fun it was to write the fan pieces, how exciting it was to type THE END on my first novel. Then I signed up for NaNo. November is going to be a big month.

After NaNo, Now What?

I did it. NaNo 2011 has been conquered, and I am ready for National Napping Month. However, that event has not yet been organized, and the holiday season approaches, and I make most of the gifts I give, and then there's that bit about writing being my, umm, job. I was asked recently how one knows when one is a writer. For me, the answer is, "one writes."

That's the easy part. Not that writing is always easy. It isn't. Ask any writer who has been doing this for a while. Though I must put in a caveat; they may give you the stink eye, snarl and return attention to keyboard or paper. In cases like that, put the caffienated beverage down and back away slowly. It's best for all involved.

After a solid month of showing up on time and blundering my way through Tamsen and Alec's world, it's odd to think of not doing that, but time for all of us to take a small breather. I'll go through and make my bullet point lists so that I know where I left off, but now is their time to simmer, and when I know more about this story, I can go farther. This morning, I spent some time with my notebook for last year's NaNo, Nothing Short of Heaven, and it felt like I was never gone. There's also the time travel ms that needs only some polish to wing off to potential agents/editors, and the postapocalyptic medieval needs the romance heightened before it can go out and earn its keep.

The showing up on time and pounding keys, though, that's staying. This rate of output feels like a doable pace for the discovery and first draft stages and blogging about writing feeds writing, so that's going to stay as well. Receiving the most recent issue of Romance Writer's Report gave me some good encouragement and ideas for career planning, so time to strategize there.

For any of you who are in the CT/MA area, I'll be here on Saturday, December 4th, speaking on how to go From Fanfiction to Fantastic Fiction, so time to get handouts and wrangle visual aids for that. After that? Nap. Reading. Gummi bears. Well, maybe after I go over some story notes...

Last Day of NaNo...with Goo Goo Dolls?

Last day of NaNo today, and by their count I need 1985 words to get the 50k. I'm going for it. Will I get it? That's the plan, but if I don't, it's not the end of the world. I played with pirates for a month, learned I can produce at this rate and as an added bonus (or two) I'm blogging more and stretching my graphic art muscles. All good stuff right there.

Text in today's art comes from "Still Your Song" by Goo Goo Dolls. I've been listening to this song on pretty much a continuous loop lately, and there's a story in there somewhere. Lyrics here and listen here:



Honestly, start a song with "Called you up ten years too late" and play it to a romance writer, and you know you're starting something. Music is often a point of entry into the creative quagmire area of my story brain, so this does not surprise me at all. Never mind that I write historicals - it's even better that way, as communications that can only travel by written word via foot, hoof or sail make for some tremendous drama. This song touches a lot for me, as I'm of the firm belief that the lower the valley, the higher the mountain, and I love putting my characters through all of that. Which is exactly where this song and NaNo dovetail rather nicely for me

The lines in the graphic leapt out at me when thinking of what NaNo has been this year. Worn down? Yep. Not gonna lie about that. Are Alec and Tamsen real people? Yep again. Sure, they live in my head, and they need more time to marinate before they trust me with something as intimate as their love story. Still, we felt each other out this month and when the time is right, we will complete our journey together.

Do I know when that will be? Not right now, but this is still their song...er, story.

One (NaNo) Day More

Some days have theme songs. Those that don't probably should, but then again I'm the type who generally has one running in my head anyway. For those participating in National Novel Writing Month, I suggest this:

This is the last full day of NaNo and according to their counter, I have 1978 words per day for today and tomorrow to make it. Since I did make over 2k yesterday, it is possible I could do the same today and tomorrow, but at the same time it's possible that I won't. I'm okay either way.

I've been asked if I'll be working on this story during December and the answer as I see it right now is 'no.' My intent is to put this away, focus on editing and polishing other mss that are ready to go out and earn their keep and let this one marinate for a while. What I have in this file isn't so much a book as background material, and an object lesson in knowing what my process is and how well it works for me. All good stuff. I like pirates and Port Royal and Alec and Tamsen and Cornelis and Lydia, and when we all have a chance to get to know each other in more depth, then maybe we can get together and make this happen.

Being an extrovert, talking my story out doesn't detract from ability to write it; it's more likely to unlock things the more I go over it with trusted writer friends. I need to know far more than will ever make it into the actual manuscript. Rushing the process, like trying to microwave a whole turkey half an hour before Thanksgiving dinner, is not something that's good for me, but when I embrace what works for me, as I did with last year's NaNo, the whole journey is a lot smoother. Lesson learned, and on we go.

I'm looking forward to closing out November and returning to other projects, and the new idea slot will be open for other characters to come find me. When they do, we'll take our time and get to know each other and wherever the story takes us, we'll get there together.

There's a PE teacher in my head, and it's writing related.

Only three days left in NaNo, and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to make the goal. This is not a whine, but an observation. Right now, before today's session, I am at 43833 words, and if I write 2056 words per day for the next three days, I'll sneak in under the wire. Do I see that happening? To be totally honest, no, I don't. What I've learned the most from this year's NaNo is that I do best when I keep to my process. Blorch first, then highlighters, sticky notes and numbered scenes, then outline, then flesh. Assemble story notebook with sections for hero, heroine, villain if needed, history and plot. Images of important things. Soundtracks.

That's what I did last year, and I won. That month spent in Georgian England with Slate and Melanie, two wounded souls with tragic pasts, who find wholeness and healing in each other, and Master, the only villain I've created so far who made me have to get up and walk away from the keyboard because he creeped me out too much, flew by. I still have the notebook at the ready, and as soon as I get the current ms polished and making its rounds, they're up next for front burner treatment.

This year, well, not so much. It's not that I don't like Tamsen and Alec, because I do. It's that I don't know them well enough to tell their story yet, so it's like trying to give a guided tour of a place I've never been to myself. Sure, I had a quick look at the brochure; I know that Tamsen tells far more than she thinks she does by the rings she wears on all fingers, I can see the rolling swagger of her walk and I know that she and Alec are destined to spend their lives together on the high seas in a matter more lawful than she might choose and more risky than he might pick on his own. I do know that they are each other's perfect mate in the nautical as well as romantic sense. I know Tamsen's parents, Cornelis and Lydia, are what I envision as living their happily ever after...and after. I know what a pirate ship is. I know what Port Royal is, and the events of the climactic earthquake...keep eyes peeled for an Unusual Historicals blog post on that for November 30th.

I know the events of the story, and I can pound out the plot points (and dear bullet points, how I miss you with the heat of a thousand suns) but how the romance develops? No, I don't know that yet. I have to live it along with them. With the large amount of words (and I will be thrilled to go back to counting pages in December) left to write and the short amount of time, what keeps me from throwing in the towel and sparing myself the misery? My high school PE teacher, Diane Nappier.

High school was not my favorite part of life, and PE was pretty much tied with math as most dreaded course, as I was not built for either one. Ms. Nappier came at her job with all the passion of someone who's found their calling, and I admired her for that. Though I lagged badly at the lone cross country run our class attempted, I still remember Ms. Nappier pointing something important out to the miserable group of us struggling in the back; the finish line was in sight, and we weren't allowed to quit if we could see the finish line. We could pace ourselves, we could walk if we had to -I did- but once we could see the finish line, quitting was no longer an option.

Every time I think about hitting the delete key and settling into a comfy chair with my e-reader or selections from my TBR shelf, it's Ms. Nappier's voice I hear in my head, and I keep on going. Can't quit when the finish line is right in front of me, no matter how far it seems.

Heroines Don't Get To Quit

It's after ten, and I am only now opening my NaNo file. First, I had to make some art. Having one of those days over here, and it started last night, so things are bound to improve, but my goal in talking about writing in this blog, and the creative process in general, is to be honest. Lay it all out, the good, the bad, and the ugly, because it's all needed to make the end product.

We are now in the last official week of NaNo, and even though some days have a rocky start, each day does find my bottom in the chair and fingers on the keyboard. Normally, I'm beyond excited to get to a project like this, but here's something I've been struggling with whether or not to share. Every single day in this year's NaNo, I've wanted to quit. Every one. I see others zooming on by with higher word counts while my goal is re-teaching myself to produce a certain amount a day, weekends included, and so far, I've been successful. I've also been successful in learning that, for best results, I need to follow my process and come to exercises like NaNo and BISW with my story notebook ready for reference, having ample time to spend following my hero and heroine through the mist and then shaping things into a blorch, and then I'm good to go. Not better or worse than anybody else, but what works for me.

I have also learned that comparison to others is bad and best avoided. Anybody else's goal is not my goal, so if I'm doing what I set out to do, yay me. They're not writing my book, I'm not writing their book, and everybody's life is different. While it's true that at some point during every day this month, I've thought about quitting NaNo, I'm competitive. I need the bragging rights. I get a graphic badge if I finish? Allrighty, then. Lock and load. It's on, baby.

There may come a point in every NaNo writing day when I want to cash in my chips, say 'good enough, this is as far as I go' but writing isn't a matter of want to. It's a matter of have to. Trust me, I've tried not writing and it doesn't work. I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life. November is one month. One month. When I let Alec and Tamsen rest for at least December, there's still Angus and Summer who need my attention so they can get all sparkly shiny polished to go see agents. John and Aline who need their romance emphasized so the wake of the Black Plague doesn't overtake the love story. Last year's couple, Slate and Melanie, are quite insistent that they're ready for me to pay them some attention again, and I am excited for all of the above. Tired from heading into NaNo with insufficient-for-me ammunition, but hey, that's how we learn.

So, is there likely going to be some point in today's writing where toy with flipping over the metaphorical table, muttering an epithet and spending the rest of the day looking for graphic art resources and playing Sims 3? I'm counting on it. I'm also counting on hitting the magic number of words for the day, announcing "Done!" and collecting my Awesome Writer Chocolate Truffle that is reserved only for days that goals are made, and then sticking my nose in a good book.

Week three of NaNo -where's my brain?

see more Lolcats and funny pictures, and check out our Socially Awkward Penguin lolz!

Normally, I love Mondays. Seriously. Specifically Monday Mornings. Sure, Monday evening brings How I Met Your Mother, but it's the mornings that get me going. I am the dreaded morning person, up and doing stuff before the sun, so by the time evening rolls around, it's not uncommon for me to turn into a pumpkin somewhere in the middle of dinner, fighting valiantly to stay awake until the end of a favorite program, and then crash. Mornings, though, I can spring out of bed, head to a local coffee shop, obtain beverage and bagel and start pounding keys.

The difference here is that we're in week three (or four? Are there five weeks in November? Is it really Monday?) of NaNoWriMo. Although my stats page says that if I stick with my current pace, I will finish on time, there's still the anxiety of chipper posts from people announcing they wrote the entire fifty thousand words on their lunch break and want to keep going. New ideas are exploding everywhere and it's oh so fun and oh so fabulous and...yeeeah, about that.

Honestly, if you're reading this and the above applies to you, I will shake pompoms for you with great enthusiasm and if you catch me at the right moment, I will even include a marching band. I greatly admire the super productive and they deserve every bit of acclaim. Maybe some other year, that will be me, but this year, I'm the kitty above. Today, for example (or more specifically yesterday) I left my travel mug in a friend's car, which meant this morning found me rifling through conference tote bags because I thought I remembered a promotional sport bottle in there somewhere. The staff at the coffee shop have my traditional bagel and travel refill order down to a science and I am a creature of routine when it comes to starting the morning's work.

There have been days when I've found myself looking blankly at a friend, only to be told with a fond chuckle that it's okay; I've obviously used all my words for the day. Not, I should mention, because my head is that deep in the book -I love when that happens, though- but because pounding out my daily word quota (and note, I normally count pages, not words) is sucking my brain. I will admit that the discipline is my main reason for doing NaNo this year. Will the NaNo story live past December? Maybe. Too soon to say at this point, but I'm in it for the discipline, so I will do today's words today and deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes. I have learned that I need to do my blorch first, then make my outline, then it's time for actual readable writing. I need to be able to talk to other writers, online and in person, about my characters and story the same as I talk about people we know in real life. My characters are real; they may live in my head, but they are alive, and I need to talk about them. None of this is better or worse than anybody else's process, but it's mine and I embrace it and dance with it, even if it does end up looking like Victor Frankenstein dancing with the reanimated corpse of his beloved in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

Of Nor'easters and NaNo

The last couple of weeks have been interesting. Storm, aftermath of storm, recovery from storm, all in time for the month long exercise in creative insanity known as National Novel Writing Month. Last year was my first, and because of reasons above -and others- I had debated sitting this one out.

Normally, I like to have my story notebook all planned out, a detailed outline, sections for hero, heroine, villain if applicable, history, research notes, pertinent pictures, etc. This year? That didn't happen, and in many ways, it feels like I'm doing the detailed outline for my daily words. I miss my blorch.

Blorch is a word of my own creation, and it means the basic slapping of jumbly words on a page, exactly as it comes to me in my mind. Present tense, hither and yon, jumping around in the story timeline, in and out of POV, talking to myself, referencing TVTropes.org (warning, do not click if you expect to get anything done for the next several hours)A blorch comes before an actual draft and allows me to then go through it with my collection of highlighters, sticky notes and define and number scenes, which then becomes my outline, and then I write. Life is funny sometimes and this year, all I came to NaNo with was a large spiral bound sketchbook with random notes scrawled freeform in multiple colors of Sharpie.

Hence the image you see above. That's a rough concept design of one of a pair of handwarmers (aka mitts, aka fingerless gloves) and it's appropriate for a number of reasons. I am tackling a pirate story this year, so the skull and crossbones is appropriate. The "Deal," though, that's a reminder that no matter how crazy things may seem, we get through them. Appropriate for this fumbling about in the mist of NaNo and recovering from a whomping nor'easter. So far, I'm making my daily word goal and should hit the requisite fifty thousand words by December 1st. Taking this one day at a time and seeing how it goes. If I end up turning out fifty thousand words of horrible trash, well, nobody has to see it but me, and I'll have done the equivalant of half a manuscript in one month. Pretty nifty right there.

So, the whole "deal" part...yeah, that's the thing. Show up at the keyboard. Open the document. Pound keys until the daily goal has been reached (to get 50k by the end of the month, I'm shooting for about 1660ish words per day, which is again different, since I normally count pages instead of words)- then I get a reward. I have found that I am eminently self-bribable. This time of year, cocoa is good. I don't know exactly where I'm going when I start the day's journey, but I have somewhat of an idea. Most likely, this will turn into the blorch, if I can convince myself it's okay to do that here - yes, I know nobody but me is going to see this, but head knowledge vs heart knowledge, mmkay? I'm getting there.

Are you NaNoing? Would you? Have you?

On the dissipation of cold brain and the art of tai ming

I still have cold brain. Waning, to be sure, but still cold brain. For those who play any of the Sims games, you'll understand an action dropping out of queue. For those who don't, well, we've all started to do something, forget what it is or why we're doing it. That happens a lot with cold brain. When cold brain starts to wane, it's not uncommon to have an action drop out of queue and then pop back in when one has started an entirely different action (Sims games don't do that - yet.)

The plan for this cold was to snuggle under some blankeys and make a dent in my TBR pile. Pause here for wild, demented laughter. Cold-influenced reading was more along the lines of A) carefully pick out book. B) Settle in for good reading session. C) Fall asleep in the middle of first page, or D) Read same page fifteen times and complain about book being repititious already. E) Give up and play Sims. F) Since laptop is on, open WIP and poke with metaphorical stick. G) Open Photoshop Elements and make inspirational graphics, as above (optional.)

All in all, not a lot of reading, when there are a heckuva lot of books. Paperbacks, both mass market and trade sized. Hardcovers. Ebooks. Novels. Research books. Other stuff. Even petted a fanzine in my search for reading material, but brain refused to latch on. Which is okay. It's a new TV season, as recent Saturday at the Movies posts detail. I caught most of Tristan and Isolde yesterday afternoon, which fulfilled some of my romance fiction yearning, but since things don't end exactly well for anybody in the Tristan/Isolde/Mark triangle, no HEA. Utterly gorgeous to watch, though, and atmosphere gets an A+++.

But reading. Yeah. I do have my default reads at the ready; Hannah Howell's Highland historicals this time. I know I'll like those, as I've read some of the earlier ones already, when they were first released, and likely out of order, so they will be like new to me again. Book three is on my desk, awaiting its call to duty, and that may be soon. Still, next to my bed, there is a small stack of started and put aside novels. Nothing wrong with them, only a brain that wouldn't track. I do believe that there is a right time to read a particular book, and something that's a "nice, but not right now" can, days or weeks (or longer) later, become "why did I wait so long to read this?"

Comedian Steve Martin once did a bit on the ancient art of Tai Ming, and I think he was onto something. Like the stack of books by my bed and the computer file of ideas that still need to simmer a while longer because I don't have all the ingredients yet, there is a right time to read or write a particular story, and forcing it isn't going to work. I've learned to embrace the "not right now" and focus on the now. Which is something that isn't that hard to do...and does not mean checking Twitter and Facebook like a maniac every five minutes. Nope, butt in chair, fingers on keyboard gets the job done.

NaNo is Coming!

Yes, I know it's the middle of August, but trust me, the picture is appropriate.

A couple times a year, my RWA chapter does a Book In Six Weeks project. Think National Novel Writing Month, but without a set word/page count and it lasts two weeks longer. Normally, I start planning far in advance, and by the time the actual BISW starts, I have a fully loaded resource notebook with rough outline, character notes and any other guides I would need for flying into the mist. This time, I thought I could wing the whole thing. I was wrong. Oh so very wrong.

No mistakes here, the page counts I turned in for the official record are honest, but instead of coming out of this with a rough draft of a novella, which had been my plan, I worked on assortment of projects. All needed, all good, but what I wanted was to come out of this with a novella I could polish and send out before the end of the year, and that did not happen. Good stuff happened; I finally got out of that mire of polishing the same (expletive deleted) chapter in a finished ms and made significant headway into writing lesson plans for my level two Fanfiction To Fantastic Fiction course (privately called "Fred" until I think of a better name for it) and a rough idea for a possible future could-be-novel-could-be-novella. No novella draft, though, and that drives me nuts.

Which means that with November coming faster than one who is not intending to write fifty thousand words in thirty days might expect, it's idea time. At the moment, I got nothing. This makes me cranky. Currently polishing an ms that has been getting some nibbles, so that's where most of my attention goes, but I like the sprints like BISW and NaNo for getting a novella out. There's something special about getting from once upon a time to happily ever after in a short span of time. Because it's me, that's going to be a rocky, angsty road, but they get there, trust me.

So. It's now August, and I'll want/need time for character work and research before the NaNo starter's pistol sounds. Readers, what kinds of historical romances would you love to see but can't find on the shelves? Future characters, my door is open. You are invited. I'll leave a light on.

The Toddler Awakes

Remember how yesterday I talked about how it's important not to wake the sleeping toddler of my NaNo ms? I caved. Sort of.

Back when I was a freshman in college, I worked as a live-out nanny/au pair for a lovely family. Mother was American, Father was French, and they had two children, Toddler Boy and Infant Girl (if anybody is tempted to mention that those cherubs are now grownups, I will put on my stompy boots and kick you into next week.) The times I was there coincided with Toddler Boy's naptime, during which he did not actually have to sleep, but did have to stay in his room and be quiet until I told him naptime was over. While this nominally was meant to assure that Toddler Boy's naptime coincided with Infant Girl's naptime, Infant Girl wasn't always with the program on this rule and end of her brother's naptime often coincided with the end of Guiding Light.

Where, you may ask, is she going with this? Hang with me for a minute. It's pertinent, I promise. Now where were we?

Often, Toddler Boy would actually nap during naptime. Other times, he would play quietly with toys, "read aloud" to himself in English or French, or other such approved activities. Then there was the day he was too quiet (any parents or childcare workers know what that sounds like) and I went into the room to check. Everything in his room, and I do mean everything, was in a big lump in the middle of the floor. Clothing, books, toys, and even I kid you not, pieces of furniture, on top of a child-sized suitcase.

Me: Toddler Boy, what are you doing?

Toddler Boy: (looks up, picture of complete innocence) Taking my room to show to Grandmere. (bit of backstory; Grandmere was Father's mother and the family was preparing for a trip there to see her. No, they did not take the au pair with them, harumph.)

Me: Okay, let's go see if Infant Girl is awake now and we can all have a snack. (takes Toddler Boy by the hand and closes door to room; parents will want to see the crime scene.)

Then there was the time Toddler Boy was not allowed to play with a desired toy (it was loud) until Infant Girl was awake.

Toddler Boy: Can I play with Desired Toy now?

Me: If Infant Girl is awake. (gets up to check if Infant Girl is indeed awake)

Toddler Boy: (races across hall and into nursery, I hear the whump of crib meeting wall)

Infant Girl: (rudely awakened baby wail)

Toddler Boy: Infant Girl is awake.

(no babies were harmed in the making of this anecdote, but the nanny's nerves were shot)

Stories are like that. NSoH had decided it was done napping and would soon start taking apart its room if I didn't get back in there. Primordial ooze of next historical is a mass of colicky bubbles (the writers reading this are now nodding like bobbleheads - yes, ooze can have colic) and I am still bribable with good European cookies. Point is, it's new words time and I am making new words, so all's right with the world.

In Between Days

In short, I hate them. The plan I had was to let my NaNo project, Nothing Short of Heaven, sit for a few days before I had another look at it, but my brain keeps wanting to go back to Slate and Melanie. Maybe they aren't done with me yet? What I do know is that I have fallen into the habit (okay, deliberately cultivated would be more accurate) of making new words in the morning hours and not having this to work on puts me in a huge funk.

Which in a normal world would mean time to work on the next historical. Only I don't know what that one is yet. As I am one of those people who has to have multiple stuff in various stages, the new-new spot is in need of filling and not having it filled drives me bonkers. There is a vague, extremely rough idea, which leaves me splashing about in the primordial ooze. Nobody has names yet, I have no idea where or when this book is set and it's entirely possible that I will need to ravage the other ms that is on life support to give parts for this one.

I will grumble. I will flail. I will need to gently but firmly be pointed back towards my other story "kids" that still need my attention. I will need to be reminded that I have submissions that have been requested and need to put those big kids on the bus because they are ready to go out into the world. I will need to resist the urge to pick up the sleeping toddler of my NaNo story because if I wake them before they are rested, we will both end up cranky and fussy. I will use this blog as my methadone to keep my fingers moving on the keys and making words in the morning. I will grumble to other writer friends who will walk with me through these in between days as I walk with them through theirs. I will have friends and family press books into my hand because nothing in means nothing out.

The time will come, when I least expect it, of one of these vague outlines of characters will introduce themselves with a name and I'll figure out their era. (A lot of them make me work for it, figuring out when they live from information they work into their babbling, and I have at least once had to hunt down the era going solely by the heroine's hat.) Then things will fall into place and I will be back in blorch stage, racing to get absolutely everything in my head into a file.

But today is in between, at least for the morning. After lunch, it's editing and polishing, and that is far more defined. Until then, Ben Folds, everybody....

Life After NaNo, writing and reading and what's next

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One goal accomplished - NaNo won. A few days early, yesterday largely spent freaking out about corrupted files, but all verified in the end and I have an assortment of lovely NaNo 2010 winner badges to choose from and slap on this here blog space and/or Facebook.

One of my critique partners asked me what I'm going to do with my mornings now that NaNo is done, and I told her that's a good question. After spending every morning of the past month dragged along behind Slate and Melanie as they blazed along their path to Happily Ever After...at least rough draft edition...facing a new course for the mornings is...odd.

Not that I'm out of stuff to write. :pause for maniacal laughter: I'm polishing one complete ms that has been garnering some interest and calendar will be marked for my local RWA chapter's Book in Six Weeks project (same thing as NaNo, but with two extra weeks) when we set a start date for some time in January or February. This means that in the deep freeze of winter, I will be in Regency era England with star-crossed lovers Anthony and Christine and their tale of PTSD, opium addiction, her class conscious family and Anthony's sister who loves him a little too much and not in the right way. I consider that good company. :cackles:

I'm also seriously behind on a project concieved with Evangeline Holland of Edwardian Promenade, but hope to get back on that one soon. Then there's the need to start splashing around in the idea soup of whatever historical is to come next. This one is going to be messy and may involve surgery on another ms that is on life support. Now taking suggestions for undesirable classes of society and/or paralell societies with which a well bred young woman should not mix.

As I am a big proponent of "nothing in, nothing out" this means that I need to keep up my reading to fuel my writing. NaNo didn't leave a lot of time for reading, so I am now ready to plow through the TBR shelves. Most recent conquest there is The Master and His Muses by Amanda McIntyre. I loved that this book didn't pull any punches about life in the world of the Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood, or the complex emotions involved in relationships that don't work out and how those affect the ones that do. Three stories, three HEAs, so these are romances.

Now that that's read, I'm looking at the following:

The Iron Duke - Meljean Brook
Seven Nights To Forever - Evangeline Collins
To Conquer a Highlander - Mary Wine

Confessions of a big meanie

I will confess. I am a mean author. While I do gaurantee HEAs for all my couples, I can't make any promises on what happens to them along the way there. Bad things happen to good people. It's how the characters react to those bad things that make it interesting and an entertaining story. Plus it makes the eventual triumph all the better when it's hard-earned.

In my NaNo book, Nothing Short of Heaven, Slate and Melanie have most recently had to outrun a fire set by the villain who creeps out even me (and I don't creep easily)and are now dealing with some very tough issues. Not their favorite time, for sure, but as a writer, the feeling I get most is delight. Not because I like torturing these people but because I know that when they are on the other side of this, they (and particularly Slate) are going to be so freaking happy that it's all worth it.

The romance genre does require a happy ending, and that's my favorite part. Our hero and heroine have fought all the obstacles in their way, and won. They are on the mountaintop, together at last and for always. It's the struggle up that mountain that is the journey and the part of the story that always has me in a ridiculously good mood when I write it. Since I write historicals, I have a wide range of wars, famines, plagues, natural disasters and shifting political alliances that can throw stumbling blocks in my characters' quests for HEA. Did I mention playing with medical and psychological issues that would be quite different if modern medicine were available?

Not to mention that I love writing complex villains. Said villains do consider themselves the heroes and our heroes the bad guys, so they have their own agendas and have to fight as hard for their desired outcome as my hero and heroine do. Of course since I'm in charge, they don't win, but they can make things interesting.

Readers, what's the meanest thing you've seen an author do to their characters? How did that work for you within the story? Authors, how do you let your inner meanie out? What's the worst thing you could ever do to a character and still give them their HEA?