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...

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.

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?

Heading into week three of NaNo

According to my page at the NaNo site, I'm already over the halfway mark and will, if I keep on at my current pace, finish on November 28th. This coming before today's update, so it may be sooner after I do. Needed to get brain going, and wanted to apologize for missing Saturday at the Movies this week. More like Saturday at the Pharmacy this week, but DH is well supplied now and if I can avoid catching his cold, we should be in good shape.

But back to the writing. Nothing Short of Heaven has always seemed like a novella to me, though maybe on the long side. Shooting for 50k-ish feels about right. I like the productivity I've been able to regain while hitting (and usually exceeding) a daily word count. I love spending this time with Slate and Melanie and as for the villain of this piece, well, he's one sick puppy. Doesn't matter if I feel "inspired" when I start pounding keys in the morning - if I show up, they will too, and generally do manage to rein me in if I start flopping about aimlessly. Which is also fine, because aimless flopping can be fixed in the next pass through.

Since I'm polishing one ms, pounding out this rough draft of another, and already know that my winter 2011 Book in Six (or Seven, we're not firm yet) weeks project is going to be from the next outline I have on deck, that means it's time to start thinking ahead to the next historical idea. At the moment, I already know...nothing. I do have some ideas, but those are in the "I'm not sure what era this story should be set in and nobody has names" stage, which intersects with the "is this a new story or is it this other story over here but wearing a different hat?" stage.

I whine now, but things will gel when they need to gel. They always do. Butt in chair, fingers on keyboard and some messing about in notebooks on the side and there will be a new couple and their situation to introduce while hunkered inside on snowy days. In the meantime, I have words to make.

On week two of NaNo

This is the first year I've ever done National Novel Writing Month. Probably will not be the last. I've always done well when our local RWA chapter runs its Book in Six Weeks program - always taken the #2 slot for highest page count...except last year when it was #1. I have challenged the gal who normally takes the #1 slot to a race for the crown this year.

I do good under pressure. Scratch that. I do great under pressure. Give me too much to do and an impossible deadline under which to do it, and I will pull it off. Friends and family need only hear mention of a certain outing which included double caregiver duties, people with initials after their names, a Chinese restaurant and playing luggage Tetris in a rental car with its own curfew all while feeling like something worse than poo, to know this is true. If I can do that, I can do my favorite thing - tell emotionally complex stories of love long ago. Easy peasy, right?

My normal NaNo day goes something like this:

*wake to alarm playing the Smurf theme, grumble.
*weigh benefits of beginning day against benefits of remaining next to slumbering DH beneath flannel sheets.
*remember that NaNo does not understand warm sheets and warm spouses and the good seats at Panera fill quickly.
*get out of bed, tend personal needs.
*remember that I am indeed a morning person and become annoyingly chipper.
*survey contents of closet and remind self that everything being too big means I am on track with fitness plan.
*remind self that leaving the house means I can play with makeup and jewelry. Get dressed.
*collect purse and computer and head to Panera
*secure preferred seating area, purchase tea and bagel. Multitask tea preparation and computer setup.
*remind self I do know how to write. Refer to own backlist as proof.
*open file, refer to story notebook if needed. Put *something* on the page.
*pound keys in plodding and meandering fashion. Acknowledge big, hairy mess.
*compulsively check word count. Confidence grows as number gets higher.
*continue pounding keys until time to catch ride. Update word count at NaNo site.
*give screen lingering, wistful look because stopping right now borders on painful. Swear to come back at same level in the morning.
*do other stuff, go home and watch Bones reruns, then fall asleep next to a good book.

Sweet November

No, this is not a stray movie post, and I haven't seen that particular movie. The title reference comes from looking at my schedule for November and going "eep." Thankfully (heh) Thanksgiving plans are firm and at least one pre-Thanksgiving outing with other friends is set. The eep-inducing schedule items include:

• moderating this awesome online workshop on Riding the Writing Life Rollercoaster with instructor Barbara Wallace
• While simultaneously taking another online workshop on voice because that's my focus for the learning-to-be-a-better-writer part of life
• also making all the mumblemumbles for Christmas presents because this is the first time I get to devote to that now that things have (hah) relatively settled down
• I signed up for NaNoWriMo (I'm Unzadi on there; feel free to friend me) to pound out a draft of Nothing Short of Heaven
• polishing two, count them, two projects that have editors or agents wanting a look at them
• plotting out (pun unintended, but what the heck, it fits) my workload for the next year
• including roughing out the level two of my From Fanfiction to Fantastic Fiction workshop
• new art techniques and frequent practice (reference above mention of mumblemumbles)
• read at least one book a week, as if I'm not reading, I'm not writing

Know what? I love it. The more I have to do in this regard, the better I do it. I work great under pressure, but if left to work free-range, as it were, I'll wander off and be found days later with naught but a vintage paperback and a Moleskine notebook filled with incomprehensible scribbles about Moonlight, Lapsang Souchong tea and the fashions of Georgian England. Or in a fetal position under my desk, clutching a half emptied bag of chocolate covered gummi bears.

I bemoaned my crammed schedule to a friend last night, who gave me a knowing look and said "you're going to do it all and it's all going to be great." Since this friend is the pragmatic, sensible sort, I'm betting she's going to be right. I'll still whinge at some points and I do still want the chocolate covered gummi bears, but I'm looking forward to a great November.