Owesome Opportunity *shifty*

Ember in Wrilogonzia

Introduction: Late last week I saw an aye aye, possibly the cutest little creature in existence on Facebook, so I followed the link and saw what is effectively a round robin opportunity... one story teller at a time, the next person claims a spot, and together we are writing a fun little tale. Before you read my little addition today, please check out the introduction, and 2nd and 3rd posts of the story, all linked here:

Ember Explainer, Story Start and Links

Though in summary, Ember has fallen asleep at her computer and is “Jumping” through the blogosphere, so order is only necessary for the links between to make sense after the first.

****************

Ember felt a persistent poking. Three small fingers in the small of her back. She wanted it to stop; she was having such a comfortable sleep.

“Psst. Wake up!” The whisper was urgent.

Poke, poke, poke.

“If you don't wake up you're...”

And it was gone, but that made her lift her drowsy head. The plank table she'd fallen asleep on was being moved. It was Della.

“I'm so sorry Ember, but the Master was rejected this afternoon. Third time this week. When I mentioned you were here, he said he'd rather eat you than meet you.”

Ember spotted the open oven edging closer. “Surely that was a figure of speech!”

“I'm sorry. He's very cruel when we disobey.”

Ember tried to move her legs but they were frozen, petrified, like every nightmare she had ever had. “No! This can't be happening!” Computer. Computer. If only she could reach her computer. She closed her eyes. Screen saver. That's why she couldn't move, her computer had fallen asleep.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, envisioning her hands on the keyboard. If only she could...

S-T-A-R-T

It was only as she hit enter that she saw she hadn't pressed the S. Tart. She was going to be baked into a tart!

But suddenly she found herself immersed in water. Where was Misty when she needed a save? She was a bad swimmer! And who ever heard of a Watery Tart? That made no sense. Finally her legs propelled her through the top of the water.

“There you are!” A llama exclaimed with obvious relief! “I worried you wouldn't get out of that one, but there you pop like Mr. Happy! Though I would have recommended another location.”

“Who are you?”

“Hello! Perhluna? Remember? I spent almost an hour on top of you!”

“But you're a llama.”

Perhluna rolled his eyes, for some reason she was sure the llama was male. “She has rules. The Komosny who visit can only take certain forms. Badgers, otters, squirrels, chipmunks, and innuendo llamas.”

“So why would you choose to be an innuendo llama?” she raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“As luck would have it, it is the only one with the gift of speech.”

Ember was sure now that she was being subject to a grand joke, when suddenly Jack Sparrow approached. “Ember, love! So good to see you again!”

He took her hand and began to suckle each finger.

“Again? I think I'd remember...”

“I'm hurt! You've forgotten! Jerome? We barely escaped...”

“But you used to look like Jude Law?”

“Like the llama said, love. Her rules.” Jack... erm... Jerome, led her to a lounge chair and Aragorn son of Arathorn brought over a tropical looking pitcher and an iced glass. It was only then she realized how warm it was.

“This is sort of nice... tropical... handsome men... drinks...”

“Oh, you'll love it here, love,” Jerome assured her, seating himself on the ground near her chair. She'll make you lose these though.” He tugged at the knee of her pajama bottoms.

She frowned.

“It's part of her trap,” the annoying llama warned. “She makes you comfortable and then it is play, play, play. No work gets done at all!”

“That's a lie!” Aragorn of Arathorn pulled out a very sexy sword from somewhere, though for the life of her, she couldn't see where. He just wasn't wearing enough to have hidden it.

“Just look at all the men waggling their swords around. No decency at all,” the innuendo llama added.

“Llama, I've had enough of you disrespecting the Empress's Ways,” Aragorn had drawn up to the llama and had his sword to its neck.

“Erm...” the llama said meekly, “We'd probably best pay our respects.” He sounded terrified, which in turn terrified Ember.

She shook as Jerome led her to an odd garden, with a waterfall and a mass of scantily clad Cabana boys on one side and books on shelves as high as she could see on the other. In the middle, surrounded by a circle of desks, three with computers, and one with a note pad, was a woman. She appeared to be wearing nothing at all, though the monitors from this distance made that hard to confirm. Aragorn stepped behind her and nibbled her ear, “We've got visitors, love.”

“Ralph! You've come back! And you brought a friend!”

“It's Perhluna,” the llama said irritably.

She waved her hand and said, “Why don't you dance like I like?”

Perhluna began dancing.

“So Ember, how did you find yourself here?”

“You know my name?”

The woman pointed at a computer screen with a cartoon of herself on it. “I do read.”

“But I don't know who you are.”

“Nonsense. You specifically requested to come here. I'm the Tart... the Watery Tart. And I don't let just anybody enter through the pond portal--it's my seat of power, so to speak, but as it was an emergency...”

Ember was disconcerted, but figured she needed some answers. “You don't plan to eat me?”

“Oh honey, I'm straight, but I could probably round you up somebody if that's what you're after.”

Ember blushed so her face matched her hair. “But... what is this place?”

“My little haven, where I rule the world. Eventually I will rule all of it, but for now, this is my little domain.”

“But you're not mad I'm here?”

“Hey, I can share my toys, as long as you play nice, but... you are breaking my primary rule.”

“What's that?”

“No pants. If you're the uptight sort, we can probably find a fern for you to stand behind.”

“But...”

“There is a trunk with bikini's,” Jerome added quietly, “if you're a real prude.”

The llama had moved so he was dancing behind her, grunting quietly, “all part of the trap. You will get comfortable and be stuck here forever.”

“Ralph, if you ever want my help winning Ramona from Xavier, I'd stop with your side comments.”

“You know where Ramona is?”

“Jerome, lead her to her chambers while Ralph and I have a chat.”

Jerome was now kissing up the inside of Ember's arm as he walked her into an airy palace. “Much better than being chased by Gattaca Security, ne?”

“Ne? What's that?”

“Erm... another rule... picking up odd vocabulary here and there. It all adds to the charm though!”

“Jerome, answer me honestly. Is this like the Hotel California?”

“NOTHING like the Hotel California... erm... except the can't leave part...”

“So paradise forever... but... what about my life?”

The Tart was suddenly behind her. “Is your life really so fabulous?”

“It is!” Ember cried defensively.

“I'm not sure I'm buying it. But I'm willing to offer a trade. Do you know a man who could use some... reform?”

“Reform?”

“Someone insufferable. The kind who try to rule you. It's sort of my hobby... reforming bad boys.”

“Well there's my brother Wyndel.”

“Wyndel? I knew a Wendell once. He was rather bendy. Probably not the same guy?”

Ember shuddered and shook her head. She really doubted it.

“You give me this Wyndel's email address so I can haul him in for a month of reform—lingerie training, cabaret dancing—that kind of thing, with them, and I will let you go.” She pointed to a troop that Ember didn't know how she could have missed. They all wore lady's lingerie, high heels and were practicing a complicated line dance. Teaching them, was unmistakably, Lucius Malfoy. (Unmistakably, based on the flashing sign over his head). The Tart saw that Ember was grinning and smiled, “They perform every evening and on my whim. Would you like to see?”

She shuddered, knowing her brother would soon be one of them. She didn't really want that visual dancing around in her head, but he could sure use the lesson. THAT was a deal she could live with. She shook her head and wrote down Wyndel's email. The second she handed it over things started to go fuzzy.

And the continuation is here! Written by Tundiel (aka: my buddy Tara)

Objectivity Objections

FOWL! That’s two forms of the same word! It hardly qualifies as alliteration!

Your honor, I really am arguing about what objectivity is… objecting to prior definitions.

Sustained, but get on with it.

First Objection:

So what is blogging etiquette, anyway? A week and a half ago my friend Mari, a Norwegian, posted two blogs about the Nobel Peace Prize, one the day before the award, the other the day of. The first was a charming peek into the country that considers the Peace Prize its own, and how it has been awarded historically over the years, the second an honest and insightful response that I thought was well-thought.

I was shocked, therefore, to find some rather venomous commentary on her Facebook page about it. Yesterday she wrote a careful response (as she was finally back from her travels) and the same…

So that is okay? Where is the line on responding to blogs? Are people free to respond however they darned well please? Are responses welcome only if asked for? Is restraint called for? Can we say rude things so long as we sign in so we can take the heat of responses?

I guess I feel like balance or something might be the answer. “I agree with this, but not that.” Or maybe I don’t object to objections, only rants... “limit your objections to a sentence apiece, please”. I know I love feedback, even that which doesn’t agree with me, but I have veered away from my political views (strong as they are), and only dipped a toe in the religious pool. And probably if somebody told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, I’d be really offended (it’s the downside of being a Know-It-All).

So now I AM ASKING YOU (and want actual honest answers). All you bloggers out there: Where is the line? Am I absurd to think people ought to keep it friendly?

Objection #2:

My son is in the midst of taking the MEAP. Standardized testing… I am a statistician. I am supposed to LOVE standardized ANYTHING. But MAN do I have a problem with high stakes testing. 1) both my kids are at new schools this year, taking tests in October. Their scores are a reflection on their LAST school, yet if they really stink it up, it is their current school penalized. How messed up is that? 2) These tests are the bane of teacher existence. Every teacher we’ve had for years has started the year with ‘reviewing for the MEAP’. They don’t start TEACHING until late October. And on top of that, they don’t seem to be teaching them to LEARN anymore, because there is too much factual material to cram in there. To HELL with the facts! Teach them to process, seek, find, THINK. The objective knowledge a person holds is NOT his or her intelligence. Albert Einstein never knew his phone number, arguing, “why would I? I know where to find it.” EXACTLY! (or maybe that is just the PoV of someone with short term memory issues).

So those are my objections. Object to them if you will!

Naughty N

Most of you probably haven't noticed, but for NaBloWriMo, my intention was to follow a pattern of Alliterative Titles. I like alliteration anyway, but there was a certain rightness to dedicating October to my favorite childhood letter “LMNOP”. You see, until about five years of age, I was convinced this was like 'W'--just one long letter.

My problem is N has not been behaving.

Odd, that. A letter I feel such attachment to because of words like Naked, Nude, Naughty, and Nifty, would come up short for titles. The problem is one of nouns, I think. Naked Nerd might very well describe me, but it doesn't have a lot of page appeal. Naughty nuisance? Nude noodle? The things that go with these words just really aren't all that conducive to alliteration.

Sad.

I suspect O might have similar problems.

I suppose though, I should take my lessons where they find me. The general one here is that if you plan to follow a theme, try to test its plausibility before committing. Some plans just aren't meant to be. That seems true for novels, blogs, home decoration, and family vacations. Even a really good idea can fall apart if you don't check some of the details and test the waters a bit.

Speaking of Shuffling details...

LONG LIVE THE POWER WALK!

Friday I grumbled about book 2 of the Trilogy, [working title COINCIDENCE—it is the only one of the three I'm not really happy with]. A certain main character wasn't behaving. In fact I couldn't get her to fall into regular past tense. Everything was past perfect and contemplative. She wouldn't just DO anything.

Saturday's power walk though, resolved the problem. I was starting too late.

LEGACY ends in a certain place (as books will do) and that is the place I was trying to START COINCIDENCE. But both lead characters haven't spoken much, in fact Andrea is brand new (a few sitings from afar notwithstanding). I needed to start earlier, to give her a chance to lay her own groundwork.

I scrapped all I'd done, putting it in a notes stack, so some might show up later, but I started for her with packing to move to Portland, and with Kade at a significant event during LEGACY. (I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you). He too, needs some emotional and psychological grounding before we get to new stuff.

I still wrote a little from the perspective of Andrea's husband, Jim... you see... she's misattributing... poor gal. So I needed to get a feel for what he REALLY was about.

I've managed a chapter and a half now and it isn't the mad flying circus that LEGACY was, but I think it will now flow...

So LONG LIVE THE POWER WALK!

That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

Happy Birthday!

You know what I love? Well, there are lots of things, but I love a literary trick where things have lots of meanings and to me today, Happy Birthday is multiply applicable.

Joris the Great

I should be careful so it doesn't go to his head, but I have a terrific friend who has a birthday today. He's 21 and I must remind him that NEXT YEAR he will be half my age... and he knows what that means... But this year he is still LESS than half my age. I met him 4 ½ years ago in the Wizard War Forums when we were still anticipating Half Blood Prince and noticed right off how bright he is. Since that time, he's served as my remote memory, since my internal one seems to frequently fail.

He also is a graphics genius, and dozens of times I've said, “I could really use a picture of...” and there it is, in my in box, often without directly requesting it... you see... he's thoughtful that way.


My Auntie M

It's an easy day to remember as it is also my aunt's birthday... an aunt who I doubt is reading, but I will give a shout anyway. Happy Birthday Auntie M!


CONFUENCE

I finished the first, hand-written draft of CONFLUENCE one year ago today. It took another six weeks to type, two months to proof read, a month being read by my writer's group and two more months of editing before it was finally dubbed to long and went BACK into editing... it is STILL not done being edited, but like people, I suppose it just WON'T be DONE until it is stuck on a shelf with a tag on its toe, so I am alright with that.


The Tart as a WRITER

This is a birthday for ME of sorts, and there isn't much I like better than throwing a party for myself. You see, on finishing CONFLUENCE, I also became a writer who had finished a book. A year later I am a writer who has finished two books and the identity is settling in as who I am. I write. I may not yet be published in the fiction world, but I have reached a point where I believe I eventually will be. And I keep writing.

So Happy Birthday All! 

Let's Have CAKE!!!

Neurotic Notes

So I had this dream last night that my daughter had been chosen to be a slayer (you know... a la Buffy?) and my first instinct was to feel slightly disgruntled to have been the skipped generation, then I thought about my mother... clearly at least TWO generations were skipped, unless the life of danger was what LED to her being rather overly controlled about everything. But I digress... anyway, after realizing I was a bad mother to be jealous rather than worried... it occurred to me that that was sort of a fun perspective to tell a STORY from. The only versions I've seen (Buffy and Colleen Gleason's series) have blissfully unaware mothers (at least until season 3 of Buffy) but what would a mother REALLY think (other than my unnatural response... or maybe not completely unnatural...)--thinking I might play with it for a short story.

Speaking of Unnatural Mothers...

Played some more with Andrea last night... she will get there... I wrote a broad story arc for her and found her a fitting job I'm rather pleased with, but the whole book is grandly effortful at the moment. I think I need to write some middle, high tension scenes to get a real feel for her. That worked with CONFLUENCE. I may also toy with the PoVs of some of the other characters... maybe she isn't actually the one to tell this story. Just because she was the first idea, doesn't mean she is the best idea.

LEGACY sneak peak:

While Mari was here she read the typed chapters (all of 5 ½ chapters) and LIKED them! SQUEEEEEE. It definitely MOVES. It's nice to get feedback that that tidal wave of madness though, was not entirely insane.

And On to OVERSIZED Mothers... or rather, the Booktour, Weightloss, Fitness Extravaganza...

Made my appointment with Kara this morning... Acupressure appointment is for Friday! I'm excited! I started keeping track on the Ides (Thursday) which has an instantaneous effect of reducing snacks (ne'er a potato chip since), but I am very excited to have the extra tool available.

And finally...

Thinking it is time to send a couple queries again... back to my routine, which means the editing I had started with CONFLUENCE... So if any super secret agents out there wants to read my manuscript and represent me... you know where I am...

Novel Novel

Or newly novel now that I've finished LEGACY, anyway... I've come back to what my memory told me was a chapter and realized what I wrote last spring was closer to four pages and some character sketches. It's like a childhood sweetheart you have been fantasizing about for years, only to realize he is a foot shorter than you, which is not to say he isn't a great person with gorgeous eyes... he just isn't quite what you expected...


For starters, what was I thinking with PoV? Why is the Realtor telling me her version? [I presume because I needed to get the house story across] (and why does Office Open insist realtor be capitalized? Can't we speak of a non-specific realtor?) Andrea is the Main character's name (the mom of the family buying the house, not the realtor—the realtor is Bitty). One thing Bitty DID do for me though, is confirm that the story of the kids in the wall has been solid since then... no wonder LEGACY went so fast...


So I expanded four pages to eight, but am still feeling more like it is back-story, than part of the real deal... that's okay. CONFLUENCE had a lot of scenes that never made the book. Funny though... LEGACY didn't have a single one... Hopefully this doesn't mean I am back to two chapters a month. I am okay with a compromise... say two chapters a WEEK, but I can't go back to the three years to write a novel thing.

Besides, this morning I began Kade's first chapter and THAT flows fine. No problems whatsoever working with the teen (I'm sure you are all falling off your chairs in shock about that), but the mom's story is interesting... I think I just need to find her voice. She is a little bitter for understandable reasons, but I want to make sure she is still sympathetic... how do you draw that line? I don't want her to be a shrew or a cold fish, but I need those resentful moments to come out from time to time... Hmmmmm.

Oh well, there are worse problems to have. I love character development.

So I’m curious if other writers have had similar disillusionment moments when they come back to something that was intended to be the ‘next WiP’? And I’d love to hear stories about characters who took a while to find their voice and then turned out FABULOUS!

I wish you all a great weekend!

Nearly Nothing New

Except... this is the Ides of October *gasp*

So as soon as Blog is posted, I will be emailing Kara to arrange the Acupressure portion... start journaling and counting points TODAY, though I still have company, so I will be watching it in more a 'see what I'm doing' way today. The Ides after all is a Death Day, not a Birthday--so tomorrow will be the birth of a real plan, with the assistance of the Acupressure to come soon. I did weigh in this morning, and I'm not sharing, except to say I need to lost about a quarter of me...

Mari and I have had an EXCELLENT time though.  It's funny to me, how I am not normally a huge fan of the early stages of friendship EXCEPT those people I really bond with online.  My husband insists anyone could say anything and so it's impossible to know what the truth is that way, but I find in writing, people are more genuine.  My online friends I've met have been like diving in to long established friendships (because of course they ARE--just not physically).  Mari and I originally met about 3 years ago and have been part of the same writer's group for a little over two.  I'd met her once before, and I should probably note we joke about being related.  I have a grandmother whose family came from Norway (the exact city one of Mari's sister's lives in, in fact), though it is the Swedish branch of my family she looks like (shhhh).

In Other News

Visiting the Henry Ford Museum today, swim meets for my daughter tonight and tomorrow night, a weekend of writing a fan fic update or two for people who've been more than patient with me, then BACK to the Trilogy!

And finally... the Burrow has posted our Halloween Feature .  The Burrow, for those of you unfamiliar, is my writer's group, and our website features drabbles (a Monty Python term for a story told in exactly 100 words).  Drabbles are a beautiful test of story-telling, because you must be so precise.  People like me, who like stories in 200,000 words, have great difficulty with it, so it is very good practice.

Back to myself tomorrow!!!

Fair Warning....

Cruella's asleep
Digressing all that she knows
The Tart is asleep
Without any clothes

It's all well and good
When the Tart runs a-buff
and nothing goes wrong
When Cruella thinks random stuff

But when Tarts start digressing
It all goes amok
and when Cruella's undressing'
Then time gets all stuck

Because everyone knows
It's the Tart who goes nude
and when Cruella's digressing
then everything's good

But when Digressionistas
Start acting like Tarts
and Tarts start random thinking
That fine, subtle art

Then all of the people
should run for the sea
because World Domination
is a fact soon to be!

Tricksey Corgy

Joel has learned a mean, dirty trick. My husband and I sleep at different temperatures, so the comforter is only over my side. Joel has decided to take advantage of this half-on-the-floor soft blanket (no issues yet) but he has now begun crawling UNDER it, then rolling away from me, so I am comforter-less and he is a cozy Joel-in-a-blanket, completely surrounded. rolls eyes

Missing: Mischievous Marauders

They were last seen on a train headed for trouble, though the date stamp on the photo is over a year old and is GSS stamping across the pond from where the Digressionista landed just yesterday (the Tart caught her, no worries), according to aviation records.

Rumors have it the Tart and Digressionista are not alone, but being joined by Hart, Mari, Cruella, a Digressionisima, A Naked Chick and two Burrowers.  Since Seven is the most powerful magical number, they are sure to be up to no good with twenty-seven. [only 13 shown here]

The ability of this band of trouble makers to create Mayhem is largely unprecedented, but we have it on good authority the confetti eggs are mostly gone.

If you see people wandering Naked, Misattributing, or Digressing pointlessly, or more frightening still, Digressing themselves into poignancy, you may be sure that the work of these people is done.

We will try to catch a group photo of all twenty-seven of them.  You do the same.

Manuscript Madness

I'm a bit of wound up nerves this morning. You see, last night I finished my first draft of LEGACY. Friday I thought I had 5 ½ chapters left, but on Saturday, Athena, the little minx, dived right into trouble instead of giving the villain his full-on chase. It has ended up far creepier, therefore I hope better—not the ending I originally envisioned exactly, but it made way for Athena to get to clean house a little as the novel wound up, and to set up one of my OTHER characters, who will be featured in PoV next novel, to have some ANGER ISSUES.

 I can't believe the speed with which this book has fallen out of my pen.  CONFLUENCE took nearly 3 years (once I actually got to WRITING the thing--it simmered for 4 years before that).  This one got a vague plotting (of what is now book 2) last winter--character profiles for people in two families, and then in August, this Athena character started bugging me, poking me, prodding me, and drove this INSANE writing pace.  She wasn't even planned!  But she IS central... you see, she ties everything together... connects me to the bad boys...  LEGACY is 310 hand-written pages.  Typing thus far indicates I lose about 10%, so 280 pages, when typed.  My son assured me that is far more reasonable than my 800 page CONFLUENCE.

So what is LEGACY about? In brief... (and this is my first shot at this, I think, so nowhere near query ready... then again I don't even plan to EDIT until the Trilogy is done)


A young boy, watching through the vents, witnesses his father's execution-style murder. A thirteen year old girl cowers in the closet as her mother tries to trade her daughter's virginity for a drug fix. Peter Nayev and his siblings retreat to hidden rooms in their family home, and Athena flees to the streets to escape the dark legacy their parents have cast upon them. By chance, a meeting in Portland's Pioneer Square, brings these children together, and makes them realize their lives have been intertwined since before they were born. Together they try to solve some of the mysteries, just hoping they can find a way for the world to be safe again.



This book was from the PoVs of Peter (8) and Athena (13). The next one will be Kade (Peter's older brother, 14) and ___ (the mother from the family who buys the Nayev house), and the final one might go back to Athena but then will feature the mother of the Nayev kids (she has disappeared as of the beginning of LEGACY)

That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.


Meeting Mari

And then I'm ALSO excited to pick Mari up from the airport tonight (SQUEEEEEE!)and take a few days off work (SQUEEEEE!) showing her the thrills of Ann Arbor. Ann Arbor is not a 'destination' kind of place. People don't come here to vacation. But it is a quaint and sometimes quirky town, and I think we can definitely find enough to do to keep busy for a couple days. It will be interesting too, to show somebody who has read CONFLUENCE the places that the idea originated from.

So I suppose I will be taking a few day hiatus from writing, but that is okay, because the novel is DONE! Woohoo!

Mysterious Medley

So I've gotten across my hatred of cleaning, ne? I thought perhaps to illustrate this, I'd give you a list of the items I swept off my basement floor.

Remnants of the spilled Sewing Basket
Straight pins (43)
Needles (2)
Buttons (3)
Minuscule beads (8057)
Bigger beads (17)
Satin rose bud (1)
Thimble (1)
Sewing machine thingamabob (to hold needle in place)-for machine I got rid of 2 years ago (1)
Rhinestones (12)
Piece of pattern (1)
String

Toys:
Nerf 'bullets' (7)
Small rubber frog (de-limbed) (1)
Markers (3)
Shirts (2)
Bag of fabric scraps for mysterious future need (only large enough pieces for doll clothes or quilt)
Cat whisker, white (1)
Cheap costume ring (1)
Tack (1)
Evidence my mother is insane (24)
Hotwheel (returned to freezer)
Hooey (stick toy... hard to explain)
Bubble wrap
Game pieces (2 checkers, a 'peg' and a backgammon scoring die)
“grow a crystal Christmas tree kit”
Animal hair (equivalent of 6 animal years)
Various instructions and one warrenty
Composition notebook
Mysterious plastic rod of no identifiable use, but as it is 5 feet, I will ask my son
Light saber
Hefelump (a dog toy)

I think only a few of the beads escaped the sweeping... And the string... I gave that to the cat, so it will probably be back by the time Mari arrives.


For the record. Things my husband won't do:

Vacuum the stairs
Scrub the floors (he will mop, but he doesn't grasp the stubborn needs scrubbing thing)
Catch a bug and put it outside (I try, for 6 leggers to do it, and for spiders smaller than my pinkie nail—any larger or more legs and I kill 'em too)
Clean the stove or refrigerator top, or move anything when cleaning the counter top.
Put laundry away (except his own)
Stop nagging.

Mess Manipulation

[note: this is an online find and NOT my actual house... just demonstrating...]

There are very few things I hate as much as housecleaning, but it needs to be done. Fortunately, I have external motivation. My Digressionista and Fellow Burrower is coming to visit next week and it provides me a motivation I can't seem to pull from within. My PROBLEM is we live in a shoe box. There are four of us and each of us has stuff we HAVE to have and not nearly enough space.

My husband had toilet training issues. At least that is what Freud would tell us about HIS opinion on the matter. “Everything has one place, and one place only, it belongs. After using it, said item should always be returned to exactly that spot.”

Oddly, my ten-year-old son is the only OTHER family member capable of living by said protocol. And I really should confess, not only am I incapable of following this goal, I don't really buy into it. I happen to think the places things 'go' are more like guidelines, really. And worse (in his opinion) I organize by stacking. Things I need to respond to go in one pile, bills in a stand-up thingamabob on the counter, things to be typed next by my laptop, things I am writing in the bathroom. There is at least one stack in every room. Drives him NUTS. My claim remains, there is no place to put them that they would not be forgotten (this is where a memory dig comes) and I have too little time to sort them every night (and here is a grumble about my bath/writing time—I could MAKE time, he says.)

So now my weekend goal, is to move the mess in a sufficiently sneaky way so that it appears we don't actually HAVE one. I know Mari loves me anyway... the husband though, has some issues and I feel like the houseguest is the perfect time to try to do what he thinks I should do daily.

That said, I have intentions of writing 3 ½ chapters this weekend. We'll see how that goes. I will finished chapter 28 last night and started 29. There should be a total of 33 chapters when I'm done, so I am nearing the finish line.

I finished CONFLUENCE on October 18 of last year, so it is possible these two works will have the same birthday.

Wishing a great weekend to all!

Motley Medley

Well... I suppose Elizabeth isn't Motley. Maybe if I start with her, I will buy myself some legitimacy...

Gentle Cycle- Dry Flat

Elizabeth Spann Craig posted a BRILLIANT metaphor yesterday, Dry Clean Only Books, equating them to laundry. You should all go read it, or what I'm going to say might not make sense. I confessed there in my comments to the Dry-Clean Only books being the ones that stayed with me, but while I am writing, only really having enough brain power left for the Wash-n-Wear.

I should probably confess here to WANTING to be the kind of person who reads the Dry-Clean kind all the time. I just can't do it. I read a lot of Juvy fic (books my kids have loved). I guess that helps me stay a little connected, and maybe I am hoping for the next Harry Potter to spiral through. I wonder if that is why my teen voice seems to be my strongest, even though the content is NOT FOR KIDS.

My point though, is that I definitely don't write Dry-Clean-Only books. I think those are written by the MFAs who've been formally trained and work much harder than I do at thinking about every single word, inserting things like parallel sentences in beginnings and endings for people who are reading that closely (which is mostly other MFAs)--though the Half Blood Prince used it beautifully with Dumbledore and Harry traveling together in dangerous times:

At the beginning: I don't think you need to worry, Harry, you are with me.
At the end: I am not worried, Harry, I am with you.

As parentheses to the book in which Dumbledore passes on so much wisdom to Harry, this was very poignant, and many Harry Potter nuts probably noticed it, no MFA needed.

Okay, so I didn't get to my point yet. I aspire not to be quite so inapproachable as many Dry-Clean-Only books because I want to be read, and I just know myself well enough that I may have a moment or two like that in my books, but I am not OCD enough to write the whole book that way. I write because I LIKE it. I wouldn't like that. But I am probably not Wash-n-Wear either. My plots are complex—several woven together. The stories are long. The relationships and psychological development are important. I think Wash-n-Wear is faster paced and can maybe have one or two of those features (probably not the long part) but not all. Probably right now I am writing Gentle Cycle books and I think I aspire to Hand Wash...

On Self Improvement Advice

I typically have little patience with self-improvement books (or seminars, videos, articles, or suggestions of would-be-helpful family members). After all… what’s to improve? But seriously… this has more to do with a collision of my ‘already know everything’ personality, and a perception that these activities are nothing more than annoying narcissism, and I’d prefer to take my narcissism in other forms.

The notable exceptions are my willingness to soon try acupressure because the stuff I ‘already know’ seems to not be working anymore (hello, 40s), and writing/publishing stuff.

So my coworker sent me a link last week to a writing book, and I thought I’d give it a try. It is ‘Reading Like a Writer’ by Francine Prose and started off very promising. The first chapter was very much an essay on thinking about the words you use, making them all count. I was all set to go back to CONFLUENCE and reconfigure my opening (and still might)… but then I started chapter 2. Sentences. We all need them. The trouble is mostly I completely disagree with her view on the matter. She keeps holding out these long, drawn out sentences as examples of brilliance. She has said (of one of these with 187 words) ‘she could have said this in about 12 words but it wouldn’t have been as brilliant and witty and yadda yadda yadda. Now I don’t take issue with using more words to give a feel rather than just getting across the point. What I am NOT grasping, is WHAT IS WRONG WITH PUNCTUATION? Virginia Wolfe would not have been any less brilliant or witty with about 4 periods in there. So I don’t know if my patience for this exercise in self-improvement will take… I will read a little farther, but it is hard to read someone’s advice when you disagree with them on such a core point.

Memoria

A friend recently commented on my amazing memory, something I haven’t heard in AGES, since I seem to be in the midst of memory failure, and it got me thinking about some psychological theories on memory that I think might play a role in making books memorable, which, for the first time I am thinking might be important to think about as a WRITER.

Primacy: What comes first holds a special place in memory because it is where all thoughts about a certain thing start to build. There is a reason we remember first loves, first impressions, first times for pretty much anything we come to enjoy a lot.

Recency: The LAST we see of something is also memorable—it is the most accessible for temporal reasons.

Repetition: Anything that comes up several times, eventually makes its way into memory—it is why we use repetition as an intentional memory technique.

These ideas can all be useful in writing a memorable book. I think of A Tale of Two Cities shows both Primacy and Recency brilliantly. Word-wise, that is the best beginning and best ending of any book I’ve ever read. Repetition is useful in a number of ways. Ideas can be repeated so people remember, items can be repeated as clues, themes can be repeated as foreshadowing, and I think repetition can be used to set mood (think Edgar Allen Poe here—he is a master at using repetition to send chills down our spines).

I think I’m going to see what I can do with these thoughts… CONFLUENCE, I believe, has a very good final ending (last couple lines), but it is possible I can improve the start, and repetition is definitely something I can think about there.

Mysterious Moderation

When I was a kid I would listen to Goldilocks and the Three Bears and hear the phrase 'too soft' and stare in bafflement. What on earth was ‘too soft’? There was (and remains today) no such thing as 'too soft'. Mama Bear had it MADE, in my opinion (except that cold porridge thing). And I guess that expounds the way I live my life. If I like something, there ISN'T a too much. I eat too much. I drink too much. I exercise a lot (see,
the good stuff too—just like with my FOMS). At the moment I probably write too much and network too much. (My family seems to think so, anyway).

But HING, Bloody HING if I'm not only a week away from trying to do something about at least the parts of too much that effect my size and health. It may be madness, but like everything else, I am capable of working a program 'too much'. (I drive those around me nuts, I think). But it is time for the 'too muches' to make a tectonic shift in that direction… get ready, personal plates, for the CHANGE in obsessions!

Calling all Karas!!! Okay, maybe not all of them, but one of them, who hopefully can HELP me with this moderation thing. Hear that, Chica? ONE WEEK.


[*mutters* I HATE MODERATION!]

I already exercise—walking to and from work (about 2 ½ miles each way) and then I TRY to power walk, jog, or use the elliptical machine four mornings a week at a more intense pace. I SHOULD add some weights in there (that used to be an after work thing; now mysteriously [read: pretty darned understandably], I am typing my manuscript after work *scratches head*. I guess the conclusion is that I only have time for so many obsessions, and I don't want to let the writing one go. My stack of typing already grows at a steady rate because I write more each day than I type.


Self Talk Session

You are a Goddess.
Goddesses can learn new tricks.
Moderation is the tricksiest trick there is, so you ought to be able to master it.
Hmph.


But it other non-Moderate Matters...

I finished chapter 27 of LEGACY last night—six chapters to go, should the final action not detour too badly.
Sent a query and got a rejection this week, but my requested twenty pages are in somebody's hot little hands, so there is HOPE.
ANOTHER round of editing CONFLUENCE is under way and seems to be going smoothly. Might actually get it under 150K words (instead of just the 'eh, almost' that I've been CALLING 150K). Say... since 154K has been parading as 150K, can I call 149K 145? Seems reasonable to me.--that blasted moderation thing again.


So I will leave you today with an unModerate Tartism:  If cleavage is good, Naked is divine.

Mis-Mapped Meanderings

For my current Work in Progress (WiP for those of you new to this network of writers thing) I had a great brainstorm for the WHERE of the start of my final action sequence. I've started writing it, but I went yesterday to Google Maps to get some specifics... streets, parks, churches... boy am I glad I did. I had about a dozen mistaken premises and found some GEMS that will make this not only more 'possible' but also more gripping.

The Challenges I KNEW About

This action is occurring in a part of Portland that, when I moved there in 1988, was considered 'bad, dangerous, etc.' (it was poor and high crime, and unfortunately, it was largely black—I say unfortunately because I think it is too easy, when there are problems, to look to what is VISIBLE as the cause, rather than looking at the underlying stuff—I don’t think the problems were black problems; I think they were poverty problems). By the time I left in 2000, it was gentrifying (see park pics—before and after for the North Albina Triangle Park), or at least starting to, but I gotta say, when you LIVE someplace, you sort of get into routines on where you go and don't go, and I only had a handful of causes to go to North Portland. Punchline: unlike the other parts of this book/trilogy, this part occurs in an unfamiliar area.

This action also occurs in the mid-1980s. Google maps is FABULOUS in real time, but old maps and pictures dating from a certain time period are a lot harder to come by—in fact I haven't found any appropriate maps. I found the before and after pic from a gentrification program called the I-5 Corridor Project and I found a couple histories, though honestly, the most useful piece I found was a Realtor description of the Boise Neighborhood. She was touting the gentrification, which by definition means she had to say where they started

What I Didn't Know I Didn't Know

I was SO under-informed about Vanport! I knew Portland had an ugly time in its racial history when blacks couldn't live in the city. And I knew Vanport had been a city on the Columbia River where the blacks lived. And I knew something about a flood... those were the ONLY facts I had right. During World War II (1942 to be specific) the largest Public Housing project in the country was completed at Vanport, Oregon. I'm willing to bet (now that I've read a little, though I didn't see this, specifically) that the call for it was because of the white men gone to war and the need for reliable labor—so give people a place to live nearby, so they can come work. Vanport was 40% black—Oregon's first integrated community—1942, you can imagine, means it was early for integration more generally. But the building was shoddy. In 1948 there was a breach of one of the Columbia River dams and the equivalent of the levy breaking during Hurricane Katrina brought enough water down on Vanport to FLATTEN it. Fortunately, time of year and time of day meant it was fairly empty—school children and workers gone to their schools and jobs. Only 16 people died (amazing considering more than 16,000 lived there). I am schooled enough in history however, to know people only count when they 'count' and so it would not surprise me to hear numbers were greater, but if nobody is looking for somebody... you get what I mean. But even with a relatively low loss of lives, those people lost everything.

Anyway, thus began the absorption of blacks into North and eventually Northeast Portland (Northeast being where I lived—a relatively diverse part of town—one of few I've seen that has multiple races living all together in largish numbers, rather than just two, or else one dominant with tokens of others.)

Needless to say, I didn't even mean to and I learned some stuff, and it is likely to make the book better. There is some stuff you just can't make up... like historically registered roadside landmarks: see Paul Bunyon, put up in Kenton in 1959 for the Oregon Centennial.  Oh yeah... he's in the book.

Mandy's Motherly Musings

I haven't paid homage to Monty Python lately, and that's just a darned shame, so I thought on this fine (read: too freaking cold) Tuesday, I would offer up some words of wisdom and see if I might twist any of them to be applicable to writing.

Who the heck is Mandy?

The Life of Brian, second best movie ever (to The Quest for the Holy Grail) is about a case of mistaken identity. So if the world has mistaken Brian for Jesus, that would make Mandy... erm... the holy Madonna... An unlikelier person for the job could never be found. Played by Terry Jones in his repulsive, cross-dressing best, Mandy is a trollop who does sexual favors for the Romans in exchange for... erm... a luxurious life... (read: slum apartment and enough chump change to buy a fake beard and rocks to throw at Stonings.) [Probably not surprising it was banned in several places at the time for being blasphemous, but to me that just adds to the appeal]

“Myrrh? What Kind of Gift is that for a Baby?”

Indeed she has a point. Wikipedia describes it as a resin from the sap of several trees and it is used in embalming. What about a nice rattle? But for us writers, I think the point is, what is perfect for one baby... erm... agent/publisher/audience, might just go rudely unappreciated by another—there is no pleasing everyone. And even if Brian might have liked a nice embalming, the gatekeeper just couldn't seem to appreciate it, so Brian would never even know...

Cross Dressing Might Help Your Cause

Women aren't allowed at Stonings... It's unseemly... so you know who goes to Stonings? Women dressed as men (disguised by nothing more than bad fake beards). My recent request for a partial was addressed to “Mr. Hart Johnson”. I recognize Hart as ambiguous, and take no offense, in fact, there is a part of me that KNEW Hart was ambiguous and it might help my case. Hart Johnson is my pen name, two of the parts of my real name, but I've dropped the feminine first (mostly because in my scientific publications I'd prefer to still be taken seriously, and I don't know where this road of fiction might lead). Anyway, JK Rowling, in interviews, has said that her publisher suggested she drop Joanne and use initials because it sounded more 'blokey'. So there you have it... I am effective cross-dressed except when announcing tartism all over the place. (Are there male tarts?)

“Huh, sex, sex, sex, that's all they think about, huh?”

I suppose this is just a note to keep things exciting... a little intrigue, mystery... erm... sex? I'm told it does sell...

“He's Not the Messiah, He's a Naughty Naughty Boy!”

Lesson: no matter how high you rise, there will be somebody who has always loved you who is willing to tear you back down again.

“Go Ahead. Be Crucified. See if I care!”

Our loved ones can be great cheerleaders... or not. My husband can say a nice thing now and again if good things are happening, but honestly? He doesn't want to hear me grumble and complain. He feels like he's already DONE his job, just by keeping the complaining to a minimum that this writing business is cutting into chores, family, and brain time. (you see, my memory is shot, or rather, I think, my brain is full).

So there. I guess in conclusion... if you can find something useful in Mandy's advice, you can find it ANYWHERE...

Literary Lore

As I have grumbled about this agent process, and read the articles by the pros, you hear again and again, “It's who you know.” This has an intuitive feel to it... that a connection might get a foot in the door. Certainly a 'real contact'--one you know well enough to ask for a read or a personal favor would help the process. But that is really depressing for those of us in the middle of nowhere, literarily speaking. [Did I just say that from the town where Borders is headquartered? I actually KNOW people who work in Borders marketing—but the BUYING and promoting already published things seems so far—and these people are parents of my children's schoolmates. Frankly, I just don't have enough brass to ask them for that kind of favor, and I don't really know that it would help.]

So being a good nerd, I got all excited on Saturday to run across this Article on statistics of first novels (via Nathan Bransford, Kristin Nelson and THEN this blog).

Megan Crewe's Blog

It definitely doesn’t say ‘contacts are no good, poo on the contacts!’ but it DOES give hope to those of us who have none.

Methods: (or what I can surmise of them)

Participants: 270 published authors (51% adult/49%YA). I’m guessing this is skewed here because I think in the overall book biz, YA is a percentage closer to 25-30%--totally pulling that off the top of my head, but I can’t believe for a minute it is near half. HOWEVER, it isn’t so skewed that I don’t think this is all meaningful, AND results are broken down and separated, so it doesn’t matter all that much anyway.

Agenting:

Only 55% of people had an agent when they first found a publisher. (Say what?) That’s right, 45% of people had NO agent the first time they got a publisher. Some of the non-agented then went and GOT agents, publishing offer in hand, but they went to (and succeeded) with the publisher first.

BUT there are ginormous differences by genre.

[copying and pasting here. This is directly from Megan]: 86% of the picture book debuts sold without an agent, followed by 54% of the adult genre, 36% of the middle grade, 25% of the adult literary/mainstream, and 16% of the young adult.

My take home from this is: artwork sells itself. And actually, based on what I’ve read elsewhere, this breakdown with genre fic doesn’t surprise me at all. The thing I’ve seen is that there are publishers who specialize by genre and there are genre SECTIONS in book stores, and there are dedicated genre READERS who don’t browse reviews. They just go to the section of their genre and read the backs of books, so a good cover pic and description sells the book with nearly no marketing. Commercial or mainstream adult fiction requires a ‘guide’ if you will, to get a book decent placement and publicity, or it will not break out of the large pack it is running with. Apparently that competition is even fiercer for YA.

Now here is the piece that is heartening to me (who is selling commercial, and therefore committed to the agent process): 62% of people who had agents, had no connection to that agent. They got their agent through cold querying. Now this means 38% had a connection… no small number when we think of the numbers probably out there looking. I’m willing to bet the total number of people TRYING to get agented and published is far more skewed… I bet 80%-90% have no connections (pulled that number out of the air, but considering agents seem to all be in New York, Denver or San Francisco… and what portion of writers are?). I think the chances are better if you know someone.

But the important point, is the chances are not NIL if you DON’T know someone. I believe what a connection helps with is getting read. Your query may not have to be so polished because you will get the benefit of the doubt. But in the end, the agent is a business person who is going to want what is good, and reject what is bad.

Editors:

The who you know seems to be even lower here. 72% of published first works went to an editor with whom the author had no connection (28% cold, 44% via agent). I am more skeptical here though. I am willing to bet those agents DID have connections, so really only 28%... which… when looked at with the numbers above… if 45% had no agent, and 28% got through with no connection, 17% must have had a publisher connection… but I think not all the numbers are here. I think the important one is the 28% of books get published with a cold send to a publisher… (that isn’t actually very high if you then apply the skewing above—picture books and genre fic… Hmmmmm)

Caveat:

What is not clear here, and I couldn’t figure out how to find, is how participants were chosen and invited. Were they randomly selected from some list? Or was the poll posted on some social networking site? Maybe people with connections don’t need to BOTHER with social networking? You can see why this might give an inaccurate picture.

That said, I believe this is a hopeful image. At the very least, it gives hope that I will really find an agent one day soon…

Lovely Linda

My beautiful aunt should have turned 58 tomorrow [seen here with my uncle at my cousin's wedding]. Sadly, she died just before her 50^th birthday, due to a medical condition and (I believe) the incompetent medical care available in Moscow, Idaho. But Linda wouldn't want bitterness to be a part of the memory, and really it's not.

It's funny. Writing fictional characters, we put such pains into adding flaws, making our characters interesting and giving them strands with which real people identify. It makes you forget that in real life, most people have such glaring flaws that we almost don't see them. People are selfish (*raises hand*), greedy, self-serving, pedantic, superior, neurotic. Everybody has their tics and for the most part we only grumble about them when somebody is really out of line (which only happens when we care about people deeply, or there has been a head on interaction in which they can't be ignored.)

We forget, until we find one, the exquisite experience of meeting a person who is truly and deeply beautiful, clear to her soul. There is no second guessing of motives, no worry about gossip, no feeling that you don't measure up, just the pure joy of knowing someone who lives on a higher plain than we do.

Linda wasn't perfect. I remember clearly her telling me (when I was pregnant the first time) that she weighed as much as she had at the end of her second pregnancy—she was never fat, but she always struggled. And she wasn't a meticulous housekeeper. In fact I am guilty of holding her up as an example to my mother to prove the case that it was the meticulous people with issues, and the more casual housekeepers who had their priorities right.

But in all the ways that mattered, she was a fabulous woman. I remember meeting her. I was four and spent a lot of time at my grandma's. My uncles were several years younger than my mom, and so still living at home. They brought home friends, some of them female, and mostly they flitted through like exotic butterflies—maybe saying hello, but not particularly interested in the curious pre-schooler. Linda was different. She sat down and asked me questions about what I liked to do, watch, read. And she remembered and asked again at other times. She was the unique person who asked questions not to be a conversationalist, but because she was interested.

She was a wonderful mother, never yelling, always sharing, passing on a combination of emotional serenity and love of life to her kids. I just wish she'd gotten to be a grandmother. She was born for that roll.

My uncle has remarried a wonderful woman, and there would be nobody happier about that than Linda, but periodically I find it helpful to think about what makes such a person—what qualities we should all strive for. I miss you, Linda!

Like Lost Lovers?

You've heard me mention the permanent attachments I hold. Facebook has connected me with at least three people I pined deeply over (all before the age of 16) and a handful more for whom there was once a spark, or even brief fireworks.

Each connection, in spite of my (mostly) happily married status, brought a small thrill at the connection. Oh, don't worry. Nothing threatening. I just think the ashes continue to smolder, even when you are fully attending the main fire.

But that's not really what today's Blog is about. Psych!

I fell in love again yesterday. A letter from a man I'd never met, a note really... in email.

Dear Mr. Johnson,

I would like to see a 20 page sample of Confluence. Please mail it to the address below:

(note the cross-dressing thing is working for me. Hart is gender ambiguous... more blokey, just like the JK of a certain genius. I HATE that it matters, but suspect it does—women reading from both men and women equally, but men much less frequently crossing sexes for authors they read [/digressional rant for another day])

You got it! Poor CONFLUENCE, relegated to back burner since mid August, replaced in my heart by LEGACY, has won me over anew. Adrenaline rush. Butterflies. I AM SMITTEN!

He didn't ask for much, and process-wise, I think that was helpful. Had he asked for fifty or a hundred pages, I likely would have just printed an already prepared file. But my six weeks or reading blogs, participating in discussions, and writing another work had me feeling like I maybe had some tools to make that the hardest hitting 20 pages possible. I sat down to clean it. I shortened chapter 1 by 250 words, and unlike my LAST shortening, I feel like this made it better.

It compelled me to revisit CONFLUENCE once again. [note: accompanying map was an early iteration—I need to redo it, but my naked dancing has failed to call for my art muse again.]

The bad news is computer time is finite, so while I will continue WRITING LEGACY, probably the typing of LEGACY will take a hiatus. It may not be Mari-ready by the time Mari reaches Michigan. I should still be able to get the first 10-15 chapters done because typing, unlike editing, requires little thought, and sometimes I just prefer to disengage my brain, but my concentration time will be geared at a full clean up of CONFLUENCE.

I completely grasp that a first request for a partial is MILES away from a book contract, but to me it's like completing the swimming portion of a triathalon... it's only one mile out of 37, but it was the mile that might have killed me. And now it's over with.

MY BOOK IS NOT CRAP!!!!

Location Location Location!

I was researching (read: asking co-worker) interesting things to do in Ann Arbor yesterday for the pending visit of my Digressionista, Mari—you see, said co-worker has no children, spouse or book she’s writing, so she gets out more. Specifically, I was asking about Fairy Doors. Apparently in the mid-90s, a group of Fairies, tired of rural life, began to take up residence in a home here in town. The family was accommodating, allowing Fairy constructions around their home: doors, windows, stairways… The trouble was, the Fairies liked it so well that they told their friends and there were soon too many for the one house (or so I’ve concluded from what I can find). So the house owner began petitioning local businesses to allow the Fairies to use THEIR spaces. And you know what? This is Ann Arbor, so there were quite a number of takers…

You know what else… You couldn’t WRITE this stuff. If you wrote a town that bought into one man’s vision of artistic insanity to the degree that they would leave offerings for Fairies on a daily basis (I kid you not—I walk by one of them on my way to work, there is always a little something outside the door)… it is just WAY too charming for fiction. Nobody would believe you. (note: the one in the picture is in the district library—there are windows in the books even) There are even pretenders! [Goblin Door]

It all got me to thinking about writing. (big surprise there)

Clear Springs

The location inspiration for CONFLUENCE originated in the Eberwhite Woods in Ann Arbor, so a lot of the setting details stem directly from Ann Arbor’s physicality. The second story line though (community split by divided philosophies—a scientific/religious divide) required a change of venue—you see, Ann Arbor doesn’t allow Republicans. I had a perfect model though, in my own home town of Moscow, Idaho. Moscow has a University, and therefore liberal balance to the reddest state in the country. People from both tails of the political spectrum coexist, mostly in a friendly way, but it planted seeds… that led to using the surrounding geography and local lore—it gave CONFLUENCE its flavor. But every setting detail required some thinking, some decisions (map drawing). Which place modeled what?

Portland

I have Athena to thank for Portland. My ‘spy novel’ was set in a Midwest college town until Athena decided to live on the streets of Portland and edge her way into said spy novel. And you know what? I am SO GLAD she did. I lived in Portland for twelve years, from college graduation until 2000—a time in my life when I was mostly pre-children. My husband sold his car to buy me an engagement ring in 1990, and since then, all but two years we have only had one car (and when I say WE had a car, I mean I made payments and he drove it) so I know Portland streets, buses, and hang-outs in a way only a pedestrian, young, professional can. It has opened avenues and given me ideas, and I believe helped LEGACY fall out of the pen as fast as it has. My only ‘work’ on setting is things like checking the timing for when Union Avenue became Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard (in the story, it is still Union and MAX and Pioneer Square were BRAND new). The REALLY nice thing, is in a real location, I can use real quirks, real details, and real knowledge, allowing for a much more heterogeneous fiber to the city.

Anyway, I am curious how other writers approach location: real, total fiction, combo?

Limed Lemmings

Lemmings are lame. Followers, the lot of them…well… except the one in front, but for the most part. Lame. A friend of mine, I’ll call her Tara, lectured me on lemons once, and assured me lemons are also lame, but there was a surefire way to unlame a lemon… you lime it. So I am going to make an attempt here to lime lemmings.

Bear with me. I’m probably insane, but co-morbid conditions aside, there is a reason for my lemmingness in many instances that I think makes it less lame.

DIAGNOSIS: FOMS

I have dueling drives that have resulted in this diagnosis.

1) Far be it for me to miss out on some great experience just because nobody else has tried it.
2) Far be it for me to miss out on some great experience just because everybody else is doing it.

I’m not a follower so much as I simply refuse to miss out on anything.

FOMS=Fear of Missing Something

I’m the first one at a party and the last one to leave. I did everything I was supposed to in high school (student council, math through calculus, heck, I was even a Junior Miss, but don’t tell them or they may come to revoke it), AND I did everything I WASN’T supposed to do… all the parties, boys, parties…

It’s not a bad résumé for a writer, though you probably won’t see me running for office (too many witnesses), but I’d rather be wagging the dog anyway.

[Do you HAVE a point?]

Do!

NaBloWriMo

Some of you have probably heard of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) where thousands of apparently independently wealthy people write a book in a month. I used to not believe it was possible, but after my LEGACY whirlwind, I now believe it could be done. But even with major inspiration and mojo, that book will have taken me… probably two months for the bulk of it, not to mention all the plotting I did last winter while my writing peeps were critiquing CONFLUENCE (at which time I also wrote the first chapter of what will now be book 2).

But it has been an INSANE pace. No way I could write a whole book in ONE month while still holding a day job (never mind my family).

So for those of us unable to drop life for a month, we’ve been offered a reprieve with NoBloWriMo (which wins hands down for the innuendo alone—exactly the kind of thing a Tart gloms onto). But it STANDS for National Blog Writing Month, whereby a group of us commits to writing a blog every day for the month of October.

If you want to check out ALL the writers blogging for this event, this is where I saw the idea, and Amy has linked us all at the side (and I see two of my Burrowers have joined too! *squeeeeeee*) NaBloWriMo

So I am committed to a daily blog. The only obstacle I foresee is Mari’s visit, as we will be having too much fun, but pic and a paragraph should suffice for a few days. And since she is participating, I figure we can sit in the basement for half hour a day, parallel blogging.

As I prepare to dive in, I’m excited at the prospect of a group activity. I love my other social networking, but only my closest friends check up on me if I disappear (not that I disappear… FOMS, you know…) But my writer’s profile passed 600 friends on FB last week, and it is feeling more anonymous—plus, that isn’t the same level of commitment to all doing something together.


Accounting Tart is an Oxymoron.

It’s true. Probably because my mother is an accountant. I don’t even balance my checkbook (oh, I try. I do STATISTICS , not adding and subtracting. Especially when there is so little adding involved.)

But accountability is another thing altogether. I finished my first novel length work as a fan fiction because people were WAITING for it. Make no mistake… rebel or not… I still don’t like to disappoint. So this group activity is PERFECT, and I think adequately limes the lemmings!

[note to my pre-blogging friends: It’s a good time to dive in! The water is TART!]