writing

Typing With Wet Claws: Care and Feeding Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. I would have had this posted earlier, but Anty had to help Mama with a very important errand. They did not have to buy my regular food while my tummy was wonky, but it is better now, and I had eaten through what they had of my regular food, so they had to go to the store.

Well. I know it is time for humans to have fun with scary things, but the regular food store not having my regular food is very scary. I am a creature of habit, which means I like for things to be The Same. One time, the store did not have my scent of Febreze, so my humans brought home a different scent. They said it smelled good, but I did not think that at all. I moved my pee spot, so that they would know my opinion of that new scent. They never bought that new scent again, but I still use the new pee spot, because I am used to that now. We will see what happens with this new food they are trying me on this week. I ate some of it before, when my tummy was getting better, so it is not entirely strange. That is a good thing.

this is a good grocery haul

this is a good grocery haul

An even better thing is that I have eaten through almost all of my dry food treat, and my humans had to buy a new bag. Last winter, the humans could not find my regular size bag of treat, and got me the big bag instead. It weighed more than I did. That was a wonderful day. Today will be a wonderful day, too, because Anty and Uncle will probably give me a little extra treat if that will finish off the old bag. Anty likes the pantry shelves to be tidy, and if she can get rid of the old bag, she will be able to put the new bag there in its place.

kitty's got a brand new bag

kitty’s got a brand new bag

I had not tried any new foods for a very long time, because I was used to my regular ones (and my vet said I should stay away from gravy foods. I will not have any more of those for a while, and that is okay. I have plenty of other things I can eat, that do not have gravy.) I did not want to eat for a few days while I was sick, but then the medicine Mama and Anty gave me did its job and I got hungry. I did not want to go to my bowl, so Anty came down on the floor and offered me different foods until I took some. Then, I ate a lot. Now, I am back to normal. I run toward my bowls when it is time for my meals, with my tail up high, because I know that what is in my bowl is going to taste good and help me be a healthy kitty. I need to be a healthy kitty if I am going to follow my people everywhere and fulfill my duties as being a mews.

It is like that with inspiration, sometimes. Sometimes, a human might lose the taste for something that normally makes them happy. This does not mean that they have sick tummies. Well, not all the time. Sometimes, it might, and in those cases, seeing a people vet is probably the best idea. I am not talking about that right now.

What I am talking about is when a writer human does not find the same pleasure as they usually do in reading their regular books or watching regular TV shows and movies and such. That does not mean that those things are bad, but it may mean that it is time for the writer to try taking in something else for a while. That happened to Anty a few months ago. It was hard for her to get into reading a lot of romance novels, and romance novels are something she really loves. That was very frustrating, for her and for me, because I take my cues from my humans.

Thankfully, the library, which is a big house full of books (Anty says it is a wonderful place) has many different kinds of books and movies, so she had other things to investigate for a while. That was how she discovered there are some very good romances in realistic Young Adult novels, and those books can teach her things she can use in writing historical romance, even though they are not historical (well, most of them are not, at least as far as she can tell.) and the romances do not always end with happily ever after. Anty says her old high school biology teacher would call this sort of thing hybrid vitality. The way I see it, if what you are eating does not taste good, it is a good idea to ask for some different food. I do not think any other humans, even librarians (they are the humans who work in libraries, and know a lot about books; they are very smart) would rub a book in anybody’s face to get them to read some of it, but one never knows.

Anty says it is important for creative humans to take in different things that inspire them, so that they will have more tools with which to work. I think she is probably right, because she is reading a lot more now, both older books and newer ones, and all of that is fueling her writing. She has a new Sleepy Hollow recap up at Heroes and Heartbreakers. It is here and looks like this:

look at how they look at each other

look at how they look at each other

This show has some things that are familiar to Anty: it is set in Sleepy Hollow, a town near where Anty lived when she was a people kitten; she is familiar with the story by Washington Irving that loosely inspired this idea; it has history and romance and some spooky things, too. It also has some things that are different from what she usually likes; the Ichabod in this TV series is very different from the Ichabod in the story, but she does not mind that, because it is entertaining. The history and theology do not always make sense, and there is a lot of hand-waving going on regarding those. Usually, those things bother Anty, but here, she takes it in stride, because she is here for the things that she does like. Anty says inspiration is like a buffet: take what you like, and leave the rest. Come to think of it, that pretty much sums up being a cat, as well.

random me picture because Anty likes it

random me picture because Anty likes it

I have talked for a long time, so Anty says I need to wrap it up. She has to work on her novella now, so that is about it for this week. Until next week, I remain, very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Until next week...

Until next week…

That Time of Year Approaches Again, And This Time, I Have a Plan

annabowling 4 Comments

By that, I mean NaNo, and, once again, for me, this year will be NaNot. I love the sense of camaraderie and support, and the mere idea of meeting other writers to get together in person and get some story down, no censors, no edits, etc, gets my motor running. Focusing on word count, however, shuts it off all together. So, not the best program for me, especially when my focus is getting not one, but two, manuscripts to The End.

This time, instead of whingeing about how NaNo and I are not a good fit at present, I’d rather focus on what does work for me. Working on multiple projects is a big part of that. If one isn’t working out, I can switch gears, focus on the other and trust that the first one will take steps to sort itself while my conscious attention is targeted elsewhere. What I do for relaxation when I’m not working on novel, novella or articles, is also writing-related, so, basically, I either do not have an off switch or I taped that sucker in the on position at some point.

Which brings me to my next thing – if I’m that busy, why don’t I have elbenty bajillion new release? I could cite the domestic tornado chains that have whipped through our family of late, and that’s part of it, but that’s not a part I can control. What I can control is the fear. Fear that I’m not good enough. That I missed my chance. That nobody wants to read the kinds of stories I have to tell, so shut up, step away from the computer and wet Swiffer the linoleum because people track stuff in on a regular basis, and that all shows on light colored flooring. Well, they (and I) do, and it does, but here’s the rub (pun intended) – housework makes my story brain chug into motion. The trick is getting that motion all the way from Once Upon a Time to They Lived Happily Ever After (though with a few bruises and smoke rising from the ruins of collateral damage.)

One thing I’ve learned from failed (and won) NaNo attempts is that I need to focus on the story, not the writing. Counting words completely derails my brain, reminds me that adverbs are bad, keeps an eye out for the size of my vocabulary pool, seizes on minutiae, and I can’t hear the voice of the story and characters anymore. This is why we can’t have nice things, and by nice things, I mean completed manuscripts. If I shut the inner critic, with her clicker that logs every word in some mental spreadsheet, away, I can let the metaphorical horse have its head. Get the bones down, take notes, as it were, on the movie that plays in my head. Most times, that’s going to be in bullet points, present tense, riddled with (figure this detail out later kinds of notes to myself) and a big ol’ jumbled mess that probably makes sense only to me. Also to Critique Partner Vicki, who is used to this by now.

The other big takeaway I’ve had is that I write best in layers. Get the bones down, add some muscle, add some sinew, add some veins and capillaries and aortas, add flesh and all the rest, and we’re good to go.  Probably not in that order, so good thing I am not employed in the medical sciences. What I’m going for at present is a bare bones draft, done my way. Can I get a scene outlined every weekday? Not counting words, but putting down my bullet points, from the movie screen in my head, onto the page. Laying the foundation, beginning to end, putting the jumbled mass of notes into order (organization! See, already fun, right there. I love organizing things.) I used to number the scenes in my outlines; not sure when I stopped doing that. Whoops, yes, I do, but probably time to give that another go and see where it takes me.

After a long examination of how I work best (at present; process can be an ever changing entity, which only proves that it’s alive) I’m comfortable with my layers, and not so comfortable with the big stack of partial manuscripts that piled on each other in the interim. This doesn’t mean that every partial will make it all the way; some aren’t viable, or need big changes, like transport to a setting that does not make me gnash my teeth and fuss against the bonds of the “shoulds” that come with that particular territory. Instead, it’s time to blaze the trail that gets me where I want and need to go.

Happily Ever After, Epically Speaking

annabowling 1 Comment

First and foremost, Happy Anniversary to Real Life Romance hero. Not our wedding anniversary, which is a different date, but the anniversary of the day we fell in love. We are mushy enough to remember the exact day (having it happen on a national holiday probably helped) and mark the occasion. I will not give the number of years, but I can say it was in another century, in a far off land called Santa Barbara. We were two college students, majoring in things that have nothing to do with what either of us are doing for work at present. Go figure.

This year, we marked the occasion with lunch at home, dragged out of the freezer and microwaved, because it’s the day before grocery day, and we both had stuff to do. Also because one of us cut the amount of bread in the household down to one slice while the other was off doing laundry. In a completely unrelated piece of news, a grilled peanut butter sandwich is apparently delicious but super melty to the point of liquefied peanut butter. I will not say which of us did what, because a good marriage always has some secrets, but it did end up with us dipping things in Malibu sauce (1/2 mustard, 1/2 mayonnaise, whisk together; excellent on chicken) at the kitchen counter and discussing what we thought life was going to be like cough cough years ago.

College majors, once of crucial importance, turned out not to be so much, in the end, for us. RLRH is now in the restaurant industry, and I make up stories, blabber about books, and tell people who kissed on TV. Living in NY state? We’d hoped. Now we’re doing it, in a beautiful apartment in a wonderful neighborhood we never want to leave. We share that apartment with Housemate, who knows all our dirty laundry and loves us anyway (or none of us can afford the blackmail; that’s also a plausible explanation.) Though I studied early childhood education, I did not take the degree, nor have I worked in that field since my last nannying gig in college. A few years in retail, many more in family caregiving, but the writing has always been there, even during the dark years when not much was actually coming. I did not expect those years.

RLRH and I went over a few things we would have never expected, if Present Us had been able to talk to Cough Cough Years Ago Us. Health issues, financial crises, deaths of parents and other loved ones, watching friends become parents, career derailments and changes of direction, changes of interests, the eclectic bunch of friends we’ve accumulated, a kitty who does not climb, jump or cuddle (but she does blog, so that makes up for a lot,) and other things we never would have thought of. We’d cut out on a school activity (not a class) that day, long ago, and threw off the person who’d gone out to look for us, because those two people on the athletic field looked like us, but he and I were not a couple, so that couldn’t have been, person kept on looking. We eventually returned to the event, knowing, from the time we’d spent soaking in the other’s company, that something was different, and always would be.

I’ve always known romance was my writing home. That was true back then, and it’s even more true now, maybe because I’ve lived the ups and downs of what life has to offer, with RLRH at my side. A lot of romances are courtship stories, maybe even the majority, and that’s fine. Falling in love is romantic, that’s for sure. Everything is new and shiny and overwhelming, and nothing has been like this before, and maybe, maybe…. RLRH and I threw around a lot of “did you ever think we’d…” questions to each other. Some were answered with “yes,” some with “no,” some with incredulous laughter, and, my favorite, a soft “I’d hoped,” from him.

That’s the other level of romance, and one I like to include in my books whenever possible. A lot of the current romances take place over a short period of time, so focusing on the courtship makes sense. That other level, though, the love that has been tried, broken, mended, grown stronger, as broken bones do, that’s also worth celebrating. Those stories also need to be told. That’s one of the reasons I’m studying some of the older historical romances these days, the ones with a bigger scope and taking place over a longer period of time. For me, the very best historical romances, the ones that linger with me years and decades later, are epics. Sagas. Romances worthy of historic record. Those make my blood sing, so that’s where my focus is going these days.

I once described an early work, which I still find satisfactory these many years later, as feeling like I was dancing in a room that was too small. That’s the best way I can put it, even now. I had a sense of restraint then, a keen concern about what I was “supposed” to do. Levels of historical accuracy (I go for verisimilitude now)  and sensuality and which periods are desirable and which are not. Word count is  a big bugaboo for me, useful in marketing and editing, but needs to be firmly locked away during the drafting process. I need to tell the story the way I tell the story and then we’ll focus on the form and all that during the next pass through.

Am I where I thought I was going to be all those years ago? Mostly, no. Am I where I need to be? Probably. Am I where I actually am? Most definitely. One of the questions RLRH and I asked each other was, did we think we were going to be this happy? Life isn’t perfect. It’s not ever going to be, and of course we have some what ifs, but we also have each other, and that’s what this happily ever after thing is all about, in life and in fiction. Onward we go….

Thursday Rambles

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“Be willing to expose yourself to your readers. Plumb the depths of your own experiences and emotions in order to make your stories authentic. Don’t hold back.”

— Madeline Hunter

Wednesday’s post was going to be a special midweek update from Skye, but a domestic tornado chain touched down, here it is, Thursday, and Skye will be able to make her regular Feline Friday post tomorrow, so this one is all on me. Which would be lovely if I had any idea what I had planned to write here in the first place. Keeping the discipline of thrice-weekly blogging is one of my goals, so here I am, and my complete lack of focus means that I am going to babble and trust that some sense will come out of all of it at some point.

I will admit that, in a not that long ago romance writer’s conference, I had the great good fortune to be seated at the same table as Madeline Hunter at one of the meals, but did not get to talk to her. Despite my best attempts to peek at her name badge, I couldn’t get a good view, and the noise level was high, so shouting across a big round table wasn’t the most practical thing to do. Point is, I was at the same table with Madeline Hunter for an entire meal, and did not get to talk to her. This will haunt me to my grave. Either that or until my next opportunity, because these things do roll around again.

Granted, due to the lack of a clear name tag sighting, I didn’t know who the new arrival to our table was, and her only answer to a tablemate’s question of “what do you write?” (universal writer to writer icebreaker there) was “historical.” If I had known, I would have loved to talk with her. I still remember, long, long ago, when Madeline Hunter first came on the scene with well-received medieval romances, and feeling betrayed when she switched to Regency. I’m all for writers writing in different eras, and, in fact, I encourage that. I’d like to see more of it. What hit me hard at the time was the loss of a writer who used the medieval setting in all its grit and glory, leaving for more populated Regency assemblies.

There are multiple reasons a writer might switch time periods. Medievals have been declared dead multiple times since I started reading romance novels, let alone writing them. I don’t recall if it was that same conference, though it may well have been, where I pitched my own medieval, with a working title of Ravenwood, to a very interested agent, who said she loved my voice, quoted my own lines back to me, and assured me she would totally read this book for her own pleasure…but she couldn’t sell a medieval in the current market. Did I have a Regency?

I was working on one at the time, and told the agent that. She said great, send it when it was done, but don’t rush. She wanted the same level of polish as she could see in the medieval. Well, dear readers, I can say that I tried. I love the characters in that once upon a time Regency, love the conflict, love the resolution, but, as Critique Partner Vicki pointed out, I hate writing Regency. Georgian seems to be my natural default these days, so, when I do go back to that manuscript, everything will get bumped back a few decades, to fit within my natural reach. It’s going to take a while to get to that point, as I have the current novel and novella that need my attention, and I’ve blabbered on this subject before, so I won’t belabor the point.

Does this post even have a point? Does it need one? It’s written, that’s what, or mostly so, and I’ve had a few discussions, at various places on the interweb, about writing historical and how and why and all that. Defining what makes a particular period appeal to a particular reader or writer is far above my pay grade, so I’m not going to try (today) but here’s what I do know: I need to feel the era. To us, it’s history. To the characters, it’s life. Barring time travel (and I have a time travel waiting to burn off its own bad juju – this may be payback for all the jujubes I inhaled as a kid) the characters don’t know how the war is going to turn out. They don’t know they’re inching up on another ice age, or that the thingamahoozie is going to be invented two months hence, thus changing the world forever. They don’t know any of that.

What they do know is that they want the same things we do; home, health, shelter, food, companionship, purpose, love. All that good stuff. The way they get it, though, that’s where we find the differences, and what historical characters can and cannot do are influenced by any number of things. I find that endlessly fascinating. It’s easier for me to climb into a character’s skin and move around in their world if that world strikes a chord in me and plucks me like a stringed instrument so we can make beautiful music together. No doubt that can happen in any number of settings, and there are probably some I haven’t ever thought I’d employ that, someday, I will. For now, it’s Georgian, and, for today, that’s one blog entry down.

Order of the Golden Curtsy: Call Back the Dream, by Barbara Hazard.

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Write what is wrong if it seems true to you and hang the critics of romance who would have it otherwise.
—Judith Ivory

I have not read a lot of Judith Ivory. I intend to correct that. I’ve read some (and need to re-read that) but this quote jumped out at me, and it is extremely relevant to my interests at present. While it’s been some time since I’ve spent the majority of my writing time scrawling in endless notebooks about how I can’t write, want to write, need to write, but nothing is coming, oh my word, am I all done? Well, no, obviously not, because I would not have a writing blog if I were. I would not be filling out invoices for my work sold to other markets, and I would not be working on current novel, novella and other projects. At the time, though, it felt like it, and that’s a feeling I want to remember. Not relive, but remember, because it has a job to do.

Earlier today, I finished rereading an old favorite historical romance, Call Back the Dream, by Barbara Hazard, which I’ve talked about some before, and likely will do again. This book is one of the special ones, that has stuck with me through decades of reading, held up exactly as I’d hoped it would. It reminds me why I love reading and writing historical romance, and makes me excited to read its companion book, which I have recently discovered somehow got separated from its parent and is in storage. :sulk: No matter, I’ll pick another read from the same bookcase, though I can’t say which right now. What I’m going for is the feel more than anything else, the big, thick bug-squasher historical romance steeped in the spirit of the times (Professor Facos, thank you for introducing me to zeitgeist, probably the greatest gift a professor could give a writer of historical romance.) – the characters think, believe and behave as people of their time, and that drives the plot.

Call Back the Dream by Barbara Hazard

Call Back the Dream
by Barbara Hazard

I. Love. This. Book. So. Hard. It. Hurts. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to know what sort of books I prefer to read, and, ideally, write, and will definitely read it again. During this particular reread, a new thought occurred to me: this book might not have made it to mainstream publication today, and if it did, there would likely be differences. Granted, there are fashions in writing, especially in genre fiction, same as there are in clothes, makeup, hairstyles, etc. It’s also true that publishing does go in cycles, so maybe some of the things that may read as dated now to the very modern reader may be all the rage next year.

Long separations aren’t common in many historical romances published today, but that doesn’t mean it takes away from the romance. Alexander and Camille are separated for fifteen years in this story, by parents who don’t take kindly to mixing classes, and both do marry other people in the interim. Reasons for and outcomes of those marriages make sense in Georgian England, and neither spouse is demonized. I liked that. When Alexander’s first wife dies, there’s pressure to seek another wife, as soon as possible, because he’s not getting any younger, and the title can only be passed down to his direct male descendant. This. Is. A. Problem. Alexander didn’t want to marry anybody but Camille in the first place, but he did his duty, and is willing to do it again. Well, to a point, that is, which I am not going to blab about here, because the scene where he Does A Thing out of strong emotion still makes my skin prickle merely thinking about it. That’s what I want to put into my books, too.

This is not a sexy book. There’s one intimate encounter between Alexander and Camille, and that not spelled out explicitly, but the strength of their love and the bond between them does perfectly fine without going into physical detail. It’s not a inspirational book, though Camille is a vicar’s daughter, her faith affects her choices, and we see her making observances of same. Her first husband is agnostic, and though it’s not gone into depth there, either, their differing views provide for stimulating conversations between the couple. Sex and faith both influence the plot but don’t dominate, though the love Camille and Alexander share, and its obstacles, do. When I read these pages, I ache for these characters and what they need to go through to achieve their HEA. I want to make that.

I love that, when Camille and Alexander do find each other after all those years, it’s not quick or easy. One of them is still married, for one thing, there’s a child involved, and both parties have huge paradigm shifts regarding things they thought they knew beyond any doubt. There’s anger. There’s betrayal. There’s an offer nice people don’t make. There’s consideration of that offer, and consideration of what acceptance of that offer would mean to other people, on an intimate and grander scale. I want to suck this in and soak in it and breathe it and learn from it and make it mine.

There are some books that we read. There are some books from which we learn. There are some books in which we see ourselves, as we are or as we would like to become. Long ago, I had the idea of starting a feature, on my previous blog (or the one before that?) to ramble about my favorite-favorite historical romance novels, but I never did it. No idea why, but no time like the present, and so I induct Call Back the Dream by Barbara Hazard as the official first member of the Order of the Golden Curtsy. Time to show respect to a mistress of the genre.

Mandatory Midweek Post

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I want to know that there’s something just beyond MY ability, that I can eek (sic) out one day that can move people like I’ve been moved.

–Ben Folds

I’m grumpy today. Kitty with tummy trouble will do that to a gal, and coming on the tails of a Monday and a half, especially with a gorgeously cool and rainy day that I would love to spend reading, especially (yes, two especiallies in one sentence; it’s that kind of day, and it’s my blog, so hush) now that we have a comfy cushion on our windowseat, the temptation to give this day a certain digit and slack off is strong.

Here’s why I’m not. In a word, discipline. I am the first one to turn into a whimpering ball of jelly when I look at the publication date on my most recent book. I am also the one in charge of the publication date for my next one. I have a novella scene due to my collaborator tomorrow, so I need to get that down today, at least the bare bones. I can do the bare bones, even when I’m grumpy and have one eye on kitty doings. Not consciously drawing on Anne Lamott’s one inch picture frame, but it’s similar.

Organizing and making lists works incredibly well for me. I don’t have to write the entire book today. Shoot, I’m only writing part of the book, because Collaborator Melva kicks writing butt and we are so much on the same page (pun intended) that it’s scary. It doesn’t have to be perfect. If I’m off, she’ll tell me, and we’ll fix it, together. What it has to be is written. That’s it. Bullet points are fine. Present tense is fine. I can fix bad, but I can’t fix blank. (Thank you, Nora Roberts, for that one.)

“Do what you can do, when you can do it,” is  a phrase I learned while caregiving, and it applies to writing as well. Life is going to happen. Cats are going to throw up, phones are going to go to the great charging station in the sky, and grumpy days are going to happen. These are the times I like to focus on what I can do, rather than what I can’t, or haven’t, or didn’t. One of the items on my bare bones to do list was write today’s blog entry. I had nothing when I started, unless fretting pet-aunt mode was an option  (on a writing blog, it usually isn’t) and Skye is currently hanging out in her regular rainy day spot under the bed in the master bedroom. She has a bowl of water, and I’ll keep an eye on her. The other eye has to be on the writing.

This isn’t my favorite entry. I’m blabbering, but it’s honest. It’s where I am. That’s something I’m working on strengthening, in both fiction and nonfiction. I have Ben Folds’ new album playing, a mix of his usual music and a symphonic orchestra (my love for pop/rock combined with an orchestra knows no bounds, really it doesn’t) because his work is always good for jump-starting my own. Getting to those deep emotions and the insecurities characters like to hide from the world, because those are things that will prove them weak, get them rejected, make them vulnerable. Those are my jams. I love that stuff. In romance, I can throw basically anything at my characters, as long as they end up happy and together at the end. Since I write historical, that means I can use wars and natural disasters and political upheaval, and all of that ready made good stuff to cause bumps in the road to Happily Ever After.

Being a character focused writer means that I can play with the voices in my head when I don’t know what we’re going to be doing today. That’s a good jumpstart again. If I don’t know how they’d react to X, then that means I don’t know them well enough, most likely, and we are going to need to have some tea and a good long talk, them and me. We’ll get through it. Bullet point by bullet point. There will be another day when I blaze through multiple scenes without breaking a sweat. Taking this day for what it is, doing what I can, and then refilling the well is the best way to get to that new release, the next article, and hey, look right there. I wrote a blog entry. Cross that puppy off the list and let’s get back to that novella scene.

Monday Junior

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Focus on writing the story you want to tell. Don’t worry about how many words, what genre, and especially about people who tell you that you will never make it. They’re not important. Finish the thing and try to do your story justice.

–Ilona Andrews

 

Today  is Tuesday, but I am calling it Monday Junior this week. To best explain this, here is a short rundown of my Monday evening:

  • hit same place on head on corner of shelf and corner of dresser, in two separate incidents.
  • found a bug in my crushed pineapple, and remembered, hours later, that this serving had been broken down from a bigger container earlier, so I did at one point eat half a can of pineapple that had a bug in it.
  • decided to make tea to counteract the buggy pineapple, only to have tea infuser open (this may be because the kitchen light was out, we have prewar ceilings and no ladder) and float my last bit of Earl Grey throughout the water. Tea dumped, because now not drinkable.
  • Real Life Romance Hero  washed my mug (into which I had flung aforementioned bug) which I used to make that cup of tea, which had to be dumped out, but I only found out there was still soap in it after I started drinking said tea.

It wasn’t a total waste, as today’s picture evidences. Real Life Romance Hero had received a gift card to a swanky restaurant near our apartment for his birthday a month and a half ago. Yesterday, we finally got a chance to put it into use. Got dressed in real Grownup People Who Eat in Swanky Restaurant Clothes and everything. Food was amazing, atmosphere was perfect, and we had the place to ourselves, so that made for a special afternoon. I went for a walk in the park to ponder over some current writing projects while Real Life Romance Hero watched the news, and came home, expecting a lovely evening of writing.

Insert maniacal laughter here. Normally, a pina colada sundae is the perfect cap to any day. I love pineapple. I love coconut. I love ice cream. Mush them all together, and we should have something special. Add a dead bug (though I suppose dead bug is better than live bug, but not by much) and we have the exact opposite effect. Bleh.Try and follow that up with a soothing cup of tea that fails, not once but twice. Surely, Tuesday has to be better.

i1035 FW1.1

Did I do that?

Well. I will start off by mentioning that Skye kitty puked at my feet while I was making my list of Monday horrors. It was not her first time today. She’s fine; it’s hairball season. This happened at the same time Housemate arrived several hours earlier than we expected her (always good to see her, and it is her house, too, but surprise factor was high) and RLRH, who had been sleeping in, rose at that exact moment, doubling the surprise factor for me, plus cat puke. I am about to give this day a jaunty salute and retreat into Sims 3 and adult coloring books.

Before the cat puke and flinging open of multiple doors at once, my Tuesday so far includes:

  • the two pens I normally keep in my computer bag, for specific purposes, are not in my computer bag, nor are they in my computer sleeve, and I have run out of logical places they could be, which leaves “lost” as the most likely suspect. Not earth-shattering, as they are easily obtained at Dollar Tree, and I am subbing Pilot Varsity fountain pens (there is something about subbing a fountain pen for a dollar store pen, but I am too Mondayed to examine that at present) but still enough to jangle in my current state.
  • Aforementioned festival of doors flinging open, with my opinion asked on a conversation whose topic completely eluded me.
  • New (additional, that is; Critique Partner Vicki is not going anywhere; I love and need  her and she can’t afford the blackmail, so she has to stick around) critique partner not only pinpointed specific issues with project she’s looking at with laser accuracy and helpful suggestions with which I totally agree can make this story So Much Better but also nailed the overall goal I’m going for in my writing, which I had not mentioned to her yet; reclaiming my melodrama, which I love and dearly miss, buried under should and expectations and nonwriting concerns.

This last one is where I’m going to focus, because it’s a good place and an uncomfortable place. It’s good because this is what I want, this getting back in touch with my natural voice and working those writing muscles until they give me some resistance, which is the signal that they are getting stronger. Uncomfortable, because, well, change is uncomfortable. Resistance is uncomfortable. Looking at what we could do better and where we’ve fallen short is uncomfortable. It’s also a necessary step in the journey, and, sometimes, we need to tread that particular path more than once.

So, on a day when I’d hoped to make up for the day before, (though I did get some work done before RLRH and I had our adventure) instead, I’m digging up bones, fleshing out, refining, reexamining, restoring, tearing down and building up until what’s on the page is what’s in my head. My characters deserve that. My readers deserve that. I deserve that. In that perspective, all the crud is worth what it takes to go through, to make the best possible story and the best possible me. Remind me of that when I grumble, okay?

Typing With Wet Claws: Autumnal Equinox Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This has been a big week. Anty is okay, even after the bulletin board fell on her head. That is not the reason they did not want her at jury duty, but she did get a blog entry out of it, so that is one good thing. She still has not put it back up yet. She will need Uncle’s help and input first, and she will probably take everything off and start all over, anyway. She was not working on specific things (apart from the time travel, which was already a mess by then) when she put the board up, and she is working on different projects now.

Since the Autumnal Equinox has arrived, it is now officially fall. That is Anty’s favorite season (but when winter comes, that will be her favorite, too) and the time of year when she gets her super powers back. Her super powers mainly  (or Maine Coon-ly, because I am a Maine Coon and also her mews) involve telling stories. I think those are very good super powers. Life would be very boring without stories. Now that fall is here, the leaves are starting to turn colors, the air is crisper, the weather is cooler, and the sun sets earlier. Anty sometimes phrases this as “the darkness returns” and follows that with a creepy laugh. She also likes that skull themed things are much more easily available and stocks up now for her year round needs.

This is also the time of year that new TV shows come back, and sometimes, Anty writes about them for Heroes and Heartbreakers. This week, The Big Bang Theory came back, and Anty recapped it. The post is here and it looks like this:

Dr. and Mrs. Hofstadter request the honor of your presence...

Dr. and Mrs. Hofstadter request the honor of your presence…

Anty is also looking forward to writing about Sleepy Hollow when it comes back, and also writing about books and other articles, but what she loves writing the most in fall (or any other sesason) is historical romance (and historical adjacent romance, but that is another topic.) With jury duty and some other things this week, Anty had a rough couple of writing days, but, yesterday, she packed up her computer and some legal pads and went to the Panera across the street from the hospital and settled in for the long haul. That means a few hours, in Anty time. She got a cookie, which meant she was there to get down to some serious business.

This is Anty's serious writing business face. Please note pen in mouth and staring off into places that only exist in her head.

This is Anty’s serious writing business face.

If you see Anty with this expression (pen in mouth is a good giveaway) it is best to put down the gummi bears and back away slowly. If you do not have gummi bears, go get some, then put them down and back away slowly. This expression means she is facing down that point in the story where a perfectly good scene has stopped and won’t get moving again. She hates those scenes, and, yesterday, she was faced with two of them, at the same time.

Anty likes to work on more than one project at a time, because switching between them keeps her energized. If one is not working, she can work on the other, and then, by the time she is ready to go back to the first one, it usually has solved its own problem. If not, she can try something else. I think petting me is a good something else. Sometimes, she does, too, but sometimes that means going for a walk or working on a different project.

For Anty, the best way to work out a story problem is to talk about it. Yesterday, she talked with Critique Partner Vicki in email about one sticky point, and found out she still does not know enough to write that scene. That irritated her, because she wants to write this book, and write it fast, but she also wants to write it well, so that means making sure that all the foundations are laid before she dives in and forges ahead. She has had too many books fizzle out because she doesn’t know what she is doing. This is one point where the gummi bears are useful. She cannot grumble if she has gummi bears in her mouth. Tea is also good for this, plus she can have hot tea again because it is fall, and look at the different colored leaves out the window. Soon, she will be able to swaddle herself in sweaters and hand mitts, which enhance her super powers.

At the same time Anty was online with Critique partner Vicki, she had one of her legal pads at hand, to free write about what was bothering her about the other scene. For Anty, free writing is like talking to herself on paper, and often helps her figure out what she is thinking when her mind is jumbled. In this case, she’d had a scene she wanted to write, but it would get to a certain point and stop. This frustrates her, but it is not a lost cause. What she has found works best is to go back to the last point the scene worked and make a different choice for what comes immediately after that. In this case, it meant taking out a character’s reaction that she liked a lot. It ought to work, and, in theory, it would, but when she got it on the page, everything ground to a halt. So, she deleted it. Maybe that deleted bit will end up elsewhere, but taking it out got things moving once again.

Anty feels better about moving forward with both projects today, and would like to get to that, so that is about it for me this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Until next week...

Until next week…

Beautiful Mess

annabowling Leave a comment

Before heading off to jury duty on Monday morning, I wanted to make a copy on my printer, but A) the printer jammed, and B) my bulletin board fell on my head. Literally.

Imagine this dropping on your cranium.

Imagine this dropping on your cranium.

For that one endless “what just happened here?” split second, I stood, bent over, stock still. Um, whut? Oh. Right. There is a big, heavy, flat object with pointy things sticking out of it on my head. I should probably move it. Which I did, and set it back atop my secretary desk, to lean it against the wall. The judicial system needed me (until it didn’t) and I had to be off, because Real Life Romance Hero and I had a bus to catch. Which we also did, and, to be honest, I hadn’t given the bulletin board that much thought since then, because jury duty and dead phone and errands and writing and critting and such. Today, though, I was determined not to whinge about my phone for two days in a row.

This board is vintage, and has been in place since the day we moved in, and I asked Real Life Romance Hero to remove the mirror that was already there, because I didn’t want to look at my own face all day while I wrote. (We will not mention my current penchant for my laptop’s camera; I had neither penchant nor laptop at the time.) So, up went the bulletin board, and, for the longest time, it had nothing on it, or precious little. I’d wanted the board to be packed full of inspiration, but, at that time, I was deep in my slump. Inspiration was basically nil. I put up some random crud. Wrappers from tea bags, the front of a tea box (hey, I like tea.) Greeting cards from friends? Sure. (Note: I love getting snail mail and cherish such, from friends old or new.) Pretty pins that aren’t even holding anything? Eh, why not?  My printer at the time was down, so no way to print new things that reflected what was really going on inside my skull, even if a lot (okay, most) of it was an incomprehensible jumble that wasn’t producing much.

The only intentional item on the board from its original incarnation is this:

I *will* write Angus and Summer's story at some point. Still in the resting phase at the moment.

I *will* write Angus and Summer’s story at some point. Still in the resting phase at the moment.

The central image of this partially-printed printout of a collaged folder is most of the inspiration image for the original form of the time travel romance that has been, at various points, Endless Summer, Wild Highland Waltz, and a couple of other things. It was originally-originally The Boys of Summer, after the Don Henley song and video that was part of the impetus for the original idea. A more marketable title would probably be something along the lines of MacLaren’s Lady, but Summer would hate that, and she is a strongly opinionated character. She’d probably kick butt in a postapocalyptic story, but Angus is definitely a man of his time (16th century Scotland) so I have no idea what the final form of their true story will end up being, but I do know that they will get their HEA, once they’re done simmering. Trying to write too soon, before I know my story people and their world as fully as I need is a bad habit I a currently learning how to break. Angus and Summer are only resting, probably burning off some bad juju, or letting some voices that didn’t need to be in my head, evaporate.

Inspiration and reminders...

Inspiration and reminders…

Current bunch of stuff in the middle of the board is two of those random things, and a printout of a calendar page by my all time favorite romance illustrator, Elaine Duillo. Illustration is also the cover of one of those amazing lush historicals that fuel my fire, but author and title are escaping me at present. The figures remind me so much of my own current hero and heroine, though, that it had to go up, and counts as the first intentional addition to the board since its inception. Go, me.

Two smaller piece of paper are quotes. Purple paper’s quote says “The perfect is the enemy of the good,” and is by Voltaire. Cream paper’s quote says, “You’re in the factory. Make the product,” and is more of a nomad, coming from (please correct me if I’m wrong) Chuck Wendig, filtered through K.A. Mitchell, filtered through me.  I won’t go into the minutiae of who, exactly, said what, exactly, but what stuck with me enough to write it down and put it on my board is,  “You’re in the factory. Make the product.” The product here, in my case, is historical romance novels.

Mission statement-ish.

Mission statement-ish.

Page from my much-loved paper mousepad bears two descriptions of the way I want to be viewed as a writer. Top entry came out of Barbara Samuel’s class on writer’s voice, and the other came from my own head some time later, because having only those three lines on that big paper bothered me. To save any squinting:

Complex, intelligent, lushly detailed historical romance that packs an emotional punch
(the “intelligent” being the instructor’s addition, and was not in my original answer to the prompt)

and

“Strong heroes, strong heroines, and a romance worthy of history.”

Either one of those would be amazing review. To get one, however, I need to A) promote my current backlist, and 2) keep writing new books and getting them out there.

Some days, the work comes easy. Some days, the work comes hard. Some days, we literally get hit over the head with reminders of why we’re in this writing business in the first place.

Typing With Wet Claws: Have to go Through It Edition

annabowling 1 Comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This has been an interesting week, but then again, they always are. Otherwise, I would have nothing to write about, and that would not make Anty happy. She counts on me to take care of Friday posts for her, which I am happy to do, because I am a very devoted kitty. I do an excellent job of following my humans around the apartment and sitting in the worst (they say worst, but I think they really mean best) places, right in their paths, to show them how much I love them and want to be wherever they are. Also, if they have to go past or over me, that means they will see me and remember it is time to feed me. It is always time to feed me, because I have a special food schedule. I eat little bits throughout the day. My humans tried giving me only breakfast and dinner, but I was not okay with that. I prefer things my way.

That is something Anty and I have in common. Tailoring the way things “should” be done to the way they actually work can be a very good thing. Like with me. Because of my special paws, I do not climb or jump (but do not worry, I am fine. I can walk and run and play -I love to bat crumpled paper around the hardwood floor- like any other kitty.) so using a litterbox is confusing for me. Anty, Uncle and Mama do not ask me to do that. Instead, I have my pee spot and a couple of poop spots (I have to give them some variety, don’t I? Plus, I don’t like to poop when people are watching.) and always let them know when I did something, so they can clean it right away. No predators have found us yet, so I think it is safe to say my plan is working. You are welcome.

Anyway, Anty has found this is very true in reading and writing, as well as my personal habits. By going with her gut in her reading preferences, she has found she is reading more, like she wanted to be, and does not feel all that pressure to keep up with current releases. Not that she is not abreast (that is my vocabulary word for the day) of current publishing trends and news; she likes knowing what is going on in the market, very much. She is checking the mailbox daily for Romantic Times Book Reviews, so she can see what is going on this month. wwRight now, she is reading a mix of realistic Young Adult novels and classic historical romances. She wishes Goodreads had a classifier for rereading, because that would make updating her status a lot easier. It also would be nice if it did not show books she has already read as books she is still reading, because that bothers her.

I have digressed. Anty is working on a post about how she uses sticky notes, part of which will require her to get out her plotting board. That is fun and scary at the same time. Fun, because she will get to play with sticky notes and move things around. Scary, because then people will see what she is doing and they might not like how she is doing it. Maybe they will not like her. I try to tell her that is okay. Uncle and Mama and I will still love her, but she is a writer human, and prone to these insecurities. Maybe she will make a picture with Scapple, because then she can draw lines between the boxes. She cannot do that with her plotting board, but she could, if she had a white board. She used to have a white board (but it was not white; it was a picture of white clouds in a blue sky) but I do not think it made it with us during the move. She will figure it out.

This week, Anty has had another article on XOJane.com, this time about what it was like to take care of her papa, her own anty, and Uncle at the same time. I do not remember any of that, because I was not born yet, so I cannot tell you anything that is not in the article. It is here and looks like this:

xojane

Anty did not think she would like writing personal experience articles -she is a fiction writer, after all- but she does, and plans on writing more of them. It is kind of like blogging, only more people read it, and publisher humans give her money, which she can turn into cat food. Or maybe other things, like notebooks or maybe another computer, but I think she should get the cat food first. It is important. One important thing Anty has learned from writing these articles is to dive deeper into the emotions. Picking what details to share (Uncle says she has left out a lot of the good parts, but Anty reminds him there is a word count she has to respect with these things.) This means reworking some things in the historical, that she has already written, which does not make her happy, even though she knows it will be best for the book and the characters.

Although Anty would really prefer to have the whole book come from her head to the page, perfectly, the first time, she is coming to understand it does not work like that. The process of writing, like the process of caregiving, or cleaning out her papa’s house, is something Anty has to go through, to get to the other side. If that means making a big mess first, then that is what she will have to do. It is okay. I still love her. And cat food. I love cat food.

Speaking of writing, Anty has to do that now, so she will need the computer, which means that is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain,

Very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Until next week...

Until next week…