Stories That Weren’t (or were they?)

May 26, 2015annabowling 2 Comments

I find I have to work on something, even if it’s the wrong thing, for the right thing to come to me. I have what I call nurse-log novels. A nurse log is a dead tree from which new saplings can take root in all that rich decomposing soil. A nurse-log novel is a dead novel, one that I’ll never publish, but that gives life to sapling books.
–Gayle Forman

Somehow, writing Monday’s post on Tuesday doesn’t bring as much guilt if the Monday in question was a holiday. That’s good to know, and an important part of this whole figuring out what I’m doing as a writer thing. I’d never heard of a nurse-log novel before I read today’s quote, but as soon as I did, it resonated, because I do that as well. I’ve learned that I need to be telling some story, or I’m going to drift off into open water, out of sight of land, and nobody wants that to happen. Some might say that it’s counterproductive to work on something nobody else (or only a very few select people) will ever see, and at one time, I would have agreed, but now, I don’t.

random view from my current seat

Most weeks, I don’t set out with a theme for my blog entries, but when I hit on today’s quote, it fell into place. I will accept that gift. Over the last few hectic years, I’ve started book after book, and they all, at different points, peter out. Doesn’t matter how many words I count (I have since understood that’s not how I work in the draft stage) or how long I bash my head against the wall in pursuit of some “should,” if the book doesn’t have life in it, it’s not going to live. Some stories are not viable, and that’s that. Sad thing for any writer to admit, but true, and, I would argue, necessary, though that doesn’t mean that the non-viable story was wasted.

I’ve learned some valuable things from these books-that-wouldn’t. One, Regency is not my thing. I tried. I really, really tried. The whole plot of I Would Know You fits with my brand. Star crossed lovers make it work out in the end, even though they both think the other is dead, and with good reason. There’s a creepy villianess who loves her brother too much and not in the right way, my heroine has a passion in life other than the hero, the connection between them is strong, the plot makes sense…but it felt like moving popsicle stick puppets around a cardboard box stage. As long as I was with my lovers, I was on fire. Regency things come into play, and it was like dumping a bucket of lukewarm water on that fire. A longterm critique partner, finally having had enough of my “why won’t this book worrrrrrk?” whining finally gave me the answer. “You hate writing Regency.”

:blink blink:

Umm, what? Nononono, Regency sells. Regency is the most popular setting. Agent who shot down my medieval said write a Regency and send it to her.

“But you hate writing Regency.”

We had a few rounds of this, with decreasingly vehement protestations from me. She’s right. Regency is a perfectly lovely and popular period, but it isn’t for me as a writer. If that ever changes, fine, but I am now under stern warnings to Not Try To Write Regency or critique partner will come after me with bladed weapons. This story will still happen, though probably in the Georgian era, which seems to be my current default, or possibly Edwardian if I want to try something different by that time.

other random view from current seat

Then there’s the Time Travel That Has Had Many Titles. :long exhalation of breath: I describe this as the book where it and I glare at each other from our separate corners, come together in the middle, beat the crud out of each other and retreat to lick our wounds and glare again until the next round. Maybe I’ve created a supervillian (or hero?) here; I don’t know. What I do know is that I let too many voices into my head here, tried to please everybody and ended up losing my hold on two characters I love like very few others. (Yes, I do have favorites.) Still waiting for the toxins to drain from that one so that I can revive it, which will likely involve chucking everything I previously wrote and starting from scratch. (Those in the know, that scene will stay, though. It’s essential.) It’s not a contemporary romance, it’s not a fantasy novel, it’s not a romantic suspense. It’s a time travel. No, not the hottest subgenre at the moment, but that’s the story the way it came to me, so that’s what it’s going to be.

the *real* Mother Goose? (and bebehs)

There are others, more of a mulch pit than a nurse log. The American Revolution novel that rebelled against me, because I had my hero on the wrong side. I tried, I really did, and it would have had a home, but no matter how glad I am to be an American, my hero wasn’t, and I couldn’t make him. (Honestly, I think they’d both probably rather stay in the islands than go back to that mess.) If I ever were able to master real-life time travel, I’d go back and rescue two collaborations that fizzled due to other life committments, because I do love those stories, and I think, maybe someday…. Who knows? Maybe. Stories started in genres I decided not to pursue go in that mulch pile. Short bits of things written during writing group exercises, an unfinished fanfic that I stopped in midstride because it really wanted to be a historical romance. Okay, a few of them. Writing fanfic helped me accept that historical romance is my home, and I am grateful to it for that.

I keep an index card file now, soon to be more than one, with bits of mulch that I can combine to properly fertilize the stories that will go out into the world. This, too, is part of how I work, and the books that do make it will be all the richer for it.

blah blah symbolism, baby ducks, conquer the day, go write…

Typing With Wet Claws: Recalibration Edition

May 22, 2015May 22, 2015annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. We are all catching our breath here, because it was a very big week for the humans. Anty and Mama had to go to where we used to live, to see Mama’s mama, who was at the people vet. The people vet says Grandma is doing well and she does not have to wear the cone of shame. That is a big relief. Also a big relief is that a big challenge that came up this week got resolved. Anty says thank you to those who were concerned and asked how we were doing.

Even when Anty goes on the road to take care of nonwriting things, she still wants to get some writing done. She may need to make a couple more trips before things are settled-settled (or Mama may go on her own if Anty is needed here) so getting a travel version of her home office (which in itself is in flux; that is a fancy human word that means things are changey) is essential. She took both computers with her this time; her regular laptop and her tablet (which is really more kitty sized than human sized, and I could have used it to talk to her while she was gone) as well as some notebooks.

this one is for freewriting

Note the frames drawn around the unlined pages. Anty found that trick on a notebook website when she was not sure she could use unlined pages. Then she read the tip about drawing a box around them, and now she likes them very much. She sometimes draws boxes around lined pages and then makes a big colored band on the outside of the box. This time, it was only a box and no color, and she wrote down what she was feeling about what was going on in life. That helps keep her brain from getting jumbled, so the stories have a clear path. At least, that is how I think it works.

Anty had a new post at Heroes and Heartbreakers this week, recapping the newest episode of Outlander, “Wentworth Prison.” It is here and it looks like this:

not for young viewers

Some people do not like things like the scenes Anty had to recap in this episode, but Anty says they do not make her scared. She finds them interesting, and likes to see what it is that makes humans get through tough times like the humans in Outlander do. My Anty Mary (Mama and Anty got to visit Anty Mary while they were on their trip) reminded Anty that Anty needs to get the first season of Game of Thrones, because Anty will find that very interesting. Anty would like to, and she would also like more hours in the day, but they would probably get filled with laundry and things like that.

Anty also likes when books have people go through interesting things, so she is always glad to find (and write) books where that happens. She was very happy to find some books like that in the storage unit when she went to look for something else. She has read the books on the left and right before, but wanted to have them on the shelf in her office, and she had been looking for the book in the middle for a long time. Finding it in the middle of a tough day made her day a lot better.

I was named for one of these books…

Now that Anty is back home, she is making lists and seeing what needs to be done to get back on track. There is some talk of a new desktop computer arriving in the not too distant future. We will have to see how that affects me. I suspect that it will be scary at first, but then I will get used to it, and Anty will do more of her writing at home. This will probably require me to make some sort of peace with the office carpet. I suppose we all have our challenges.

Until next week…

That is about it for this week, so, until then, I remain very truly yours,

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

Okay Not to be Okay

May 20, 2015May 20, 2015annabowling Leave a comment

Once in a while, life drops a bomb on all of us. That’s what’s happened in our family this week, and I’m not sure how much I want to write about it here, because this is a writing blog, and this isn’t a writing thing. It impacts my writing, of course, as time spent wrangling family stuff is time spent not writing, but it is also, as everything in a writer’s life, going to end up in a story someday. But writing about the thing itself? Ehhhh, don’t know yet. It’s still fresh. Still dealing with the things-that-need-to-be-done-now and making plans and considering contingencies and and and and and…

…there are a lot of ands. A lot of ifs, a lot of maybes, a lot of we could trys, a lot of I don’t knows. Life can be scary sometimes, and it looks like this may be one of those times. Even so, writing remains my happy place. Going into the story world and closing the door behind me isn’t so much an escape -the other stuff will still be there when I come out again- but more of a respite. It’s some time away that fills em so that I am better able to deal with what’s going on when I’d really rather be writing.

One good thing about writing in the midst of chaos, besides the respite, is that it crystallizes things. I want this. I want to keep writing the main focus of my life. I will gaurd it and chase it and hunt it down with a club when I need to, because I need it. There’s a power in knowing this is why I am here, and this is the genre I love and I have stories yet to tell, so what other people call “real life” is going to have to calm down and take a seat so that I can get down to business. Sometimes, that will mean I can hunker down with laptop and go clickety clack on the keys for hours. Sometimes, that means I can scrible in my pocket notebook or on an index card or jot something down on the back of a receipt or napkin and keep on going with whatever else the day has demanded of me, but the main thing remains. I can’t turn it off. Not even if I wanted to, and I don’t want to, so I won’t.

Which brings me to the title of this post. There are going to be times, in life and in writing, when things are going great. There are going to be times, in life and in writing, when things are going the exact opposite way and crawling under a rock sounds like a good idea…but nothing gets done there. What I’ve had to tell myself is that it’s okay not to be okay at times. Let the feelings do their job, but don’ t dwell on them. Feel what it feels like to be angry, afraid, confused, exhausted, exhilerated, at wits’ end, triumphant, defeated, whatever it is. Feel it. Remember it. This, too is grist for the mill, and because we write, because we read, we know the black moment comes before the resolution. If things are at their chaotic-est, that’s probably because it’s the middle of the story.

To be continued…

Office Hours, aka Day Camp of the Mind

May 14, 2015annabowling Leave a comment

On my own, I found my place outside the lines.
–Kathleen Bittner Roth

Sometimes, a writer has to bust out. This morning, I escaped the loving bosom of my family and headed for the park, to set up a temporary office on the picnic table beside the lake. I’ve learned that I need to know what I’m doing, and that writing things down means I can put the giant jumble of ideas in my head in some sense of order and then prioritize. This all made sense out in the open air, looking at ducks between bullet points, but now that I am inside and should be able to focus, my brain wants to wander.

getting my ducks in a row…

One of the reasons I’m here right now is that I am committed to blogging three times a week, and if I put off posting until the weekend (after Skye’s post tomorrow) I will be fried. That’s not going to do anybody any good, so I will probably talk all around Robin Hood’s barn, as a high school English teacher used to say (ignoring the fact that Robin Hood did not have a barn; he was an outlaw who lived in the woods, ahem. Maybe he had a barn back at Locksley, but he’s over that now, and it wouldn’t have been one of his priorities, anyway. Now, where was I?) before I get to the point, if indeed there is one. Until then, there are waterfowl. My trip to the park yesterday netted me a peek at the first babies of the season. The Canada geese have spawned, three fuzzy yellow bebehs. The parents wasted no time in letting me know that picture time was over as soon as I got this shot.

Goslings!

I hadn’t expected to make such a connection, but as I settled in at the picnic table, with notebook and pen (after finding out that the sun made it impossible to see much on my tablet screen) it hit me why I liked working from the park in the morning as much as I do. It reminds me of day camp. Odd connection to make, but there it was. Maybe it was the travel mug full of Diet Coke talking, or maybe it was the chance to be seated on weathered wood, under the shelter of shady branches, immersed, as I often was during those long-ago day camp summers. I hated sports, largely because I was A) sun sensitive (still am) and B) nearsighted (still am) and I never fit in with most of the other kids. There was Them and there was me, and no matter how much I wanted to join in, I could never quite make the edges of the puzzle come together. Either I’d hang with the counselors (I was always more comfortable with adults, even as a kid) or I’d stay by myself.

If I couldn’t fit in with my real life peers (though, really, were they?) then I would create them in my head. I didn’t know that was writing, then, and I was surprised and perplexed to learn that not everybody did it. I loved Barbie dolls because they were, to me, tiny actors who never objected to my choice of costumes, roles or situations. Finally, a way to give faces and bodies to the voices in my head. I still remember my parents’ befuddlement when the first thing I did with my Jane and Johnny West action figures (12 inch, fully articulated cowgirl and cowboy) was make them reenact the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. (Signs your kindergartener will grow up to be a historical romance writer for one hundred, Alex.)

I didn’t bring dolls to day camp; I knew enough to do that, but when our counselors took us to the outdoor sunken basketball court and explained their variation on Red Rover, involving an orgre who lived beneath the blacktop and could come out of the storm drain, I soaked that like a sponge and created a princess who wanted to escape the ogre’s clutches, and what was supposed to be normal kids-running-around stuff became a mix of Nordic myth, various fairytales (not the sanitized Brothers Grimm version, not this girl) and probably some mix of whatever cartoon had held my interest at the time. When it came time to head to the pool for swimming, there were mermaids or a trip to Atlantis. A good deal of the time, I didn’t notice when the other kids didn’t want to play because I had friends who lived in my stories. Best of all were the times when I’d find a kindred soul and could entice them to play along.

It’s somewhat like that now, when I head to the park. The characters in my WIPs tag along, and, if I’m meeting reistance in a scene or a concept, it’s usually that I’m trying to force the characters to do something they wouldn’t. While we take a loop around the lake, in search of waterfowl, sipping a cold drink from our travel mug, or set up shop at the picnic table, the restraints fall away. The walls come down, as it were. I’m not sure if this is because the great outdoors is a good equalizer, and more familiar to my historical people than a recliner or ergonomic chair and blinking cursor on a blank screen, but I can’t discount it.

Even in those day camp years, my default story setting was the long ago and usually far away. I can’t explain it, other than the fact that I’m hardwired for historicals. The British Isles thing, I can maybe explain; our closest neighbors when I was little were a lovely Scottish couple, and my mom’s best friend was a British expat. I soaked in the accents and the mannerisms, the folk tales and other bits that I’m sure I didn’t even realize, and they became part of me, part of the worlds I created when the physical one didn’t fit. Some things, I am happy to report, never change.

‘ello, ducks…

Cranky Day, Lessons Learned, and Random Waterfowl

May 12, 2015annabowling Leave a comment

It’s not even one o’clock, and I’m cranky. It’s one of those days. We were promised thundershowers. I am looking at brilliant sun through the clouds. I did not ask for brilliant sun. It burns. Yesterday was productive, I was looking forward to more of the same today, and yet…ugh. Hit the wall. Not my favorite thing to do, but writing a blog entry gets at least one thing knocked off my to-do list.

Since I am grumpy today, but want to get this entry up, I am going to be lazy and draw from yesterday’s productivity. I had my all purpose notebook with me and did some writing on Things I Have Learned about the way I, personally, write. These may or may not be of use to anybody else, but if I get this entry written, I get to bribe myself with a walk, which should bust me out of my funk, so here we go:

The goal/task list I make on Monday mornings is my set of goals for the week, not the for the day. I do not want to say how long it took me to realize that, but I finally get it now.

I need to write stuff down, or I will lose it. Writing it down also means that I get to play with pens and paper and highlighters. I am a visual person. If I like looking at the page, I will want to spend time there.

Bullet points are life. That’s how my brain works best when getting stuff out.

I don’t count words when writing a first draft. That completely paralyzes me, and I’ll shut down. Not going there again. Let me tell the story, though, and watch me fly. I think in terms of scenes. Bullet point draft the scene, smooth it out, get feedback, move on.

Yes, I do need to talk about the WIPs. I have tried, very hard, to follow respected advice to keep mum, and, for me, that kills the story. I’m talking flatline. It’s dead, Jim. Pinining for the fjords. An ex-story, as it were.

I don’t mean talking the story to death, which I have also done. I have a time travel romance that I really, really love, like crazy love, on life support. It’s been there for years now, and I still can’t pull the plug. Still waiting for all the toxins –too much advice, from too many people, who wanted the book to be things other than what it was, and still is, often contradictory and mutually exclusive- to filter out of its system. Then we’ll see what we can do, but lesson learned.

The happy medium is, for me, finding one or two trusted writer friends (and not always the same ones for every project) upon whom I can unleash my verbal onslaught, over cups of tea or instant message (or both at the same time) and keep it at that. For me, thinking and talking often happen at the same time. If I’m stumped by blank page or screen, talking it out is a lifesaver. Sometimes, I don’t know what I’m saying until I’ve said it. Then I’m good, and I can get the story down.

I don’t know how many times I’ve started a conversation with “I have no idea where this story is going,” then spew my verbal sludge at a writer friend, only to be told that’s the whole outline right there. Often with extraneous details filed off, but one of these days, I will get smart and record these blathers. Probably when I can get someone else to transcribe them for me, because I’m one of those people weirded out by their own voice on recordings. Speech to text software is also an option.

One of the CRRWA members asked, at this past weekend’s meeting, how it is that I’ve met my personal goals (self set, shared with the group and accounted for at meetings) every month since we began the program. What I said at the time was something along the lines of, “um, I like writing?” but that was also the portion of the day where being asked my favorite TV show stymied me to the point I could only mumble something about Bones, and that after some prompting. (For the record, currently How I Met Your Mother, but not the finale, which I refuse to acknowledge, though if we’re talking only shows in current production, The Walking Dead. Those choices probably say something about me, but I don’t want to examine it too closely. Said choices may change tomorrow, but those are they at the time the question was asked. )

What I would have said if not caught on the spot, would be more along the lines of:

Set realistic goals (aka know what you can do.)
Word them vaguely when you need wiggle room.

That’s about it for now, as it’s time for walkies.

Canada goose, eh.

Typing With Wet Claws: Up All Night Edition

May 8, 2015May 8, 2015annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all, Skye here, for my regular Feline Friday. This picture is from yesterday’s sunbeam session, because I am spending today under the bed. Mama’s bed, to be specific, although I usually hide under Anty and Uncle’s bed when I want to be really really safe. I thought I’d change it up today.

Sometimes, when humans have a lot to do, it takes a long time. Sometimes, that means they use up all of the daytime and go into the nighttime. Those of you who know kitties know that we can be nocturmal creatures, but you may not know that sometimes, writers are, too. Sometimes, that is because they have something called deadlines. When Anty has to tell people who kissed on TV, she has to take notes while the show is on and then make sure her notes make sense, and that they are the right legnth. When she first started doing this, she would make her notes in longhand, on a legal pad, and then go into another room and put them on the computer to make them make sense. Now, she makes them right on the computer, which makes it go faster. Still, it takes a while, and, since the shows are on in the evening, that means she is working in the evening.

This week, big kissy things happened on two shows that Anty watches. Her recap of New Girl’s season finale is here, and looks like this:

I liked the part with the kitty…

I think New Girl is a very good show, because it has a kitty in it. The kitty’s name is Ferguson, and Ferguson got a present in the very last scene, which ends the season on a high note.

The Big Bang Theory does not have any kitties in it, but it has fun nerdy things, and a lot of romance, so Anty likes it. Big things happened for two couples on this season finale. Anty’s recap is here and looks like this:

Needs cats…

When Anty stays up late, she ends up writing a lot, even if it is not for publication. Sometimes, she writes in books to think on paper. This week, she finished writing in two more notebooks. The small one is by Markings, and it lived in her computer tote. The big one is by Picadilly, and was her purse book and then her living room book before it finally landed in the kitchen. She says nobody wants to read what is inside them, as it is mostly rambling and sometimes lists of things to do, but I am allowed to show what they look like. They look like this:

the old guard

The new books look like this:

new kids on the block

The small book is by Potter Style, which is new to Anty, and came in a pack of four, all themed around Jane Austen novels. Anty says this is very appropriate for a historical romance writer, although she does not write in the Regency period. Shocking, I know, but it does take all kinds. She started the small book a while ago, but stopped using it in her pen pouch shortly thereafter. It will now be her computer sleeve book. The big book comes from WalMart and has no markings whatsoever, so she thinks it was made especially for them. She is not sure what color sticky notes she wants to put in it permanently, but she carried these over from the old blue book:

temporary stickies

I do not think I shared pictures of what she did to the old blue notebook, but she put old maps on the endpapers. I think that was a good idea, but she is out of old maps now, and does not know what sorts of endpapers she wants for this new book, if it needs any at all. The maps looked like this:

show me the way…

In addition to writing, Anty likes to read when she is awake late into the night. She finished reading Where She Went, by Gayle Forman, early this morning. Now she is grumpy that the story is over. Anty loves second chance at love stories for star crossed lovers, when they make it work at last (oops, did I spoil it for anybody? Sorry. Forget I said that. Kitties are not reliable sources of literary criticism. Unless there are cats in the story. Then we are.)

If Anty stays up in her comfy chair, I like to curl into a ball at her feet and keep her company. It is the very least that a mews can do. Well, that and filling in when the human wants to delegate blogging. I am happy to do that, too.

Well, that is about it for this week. It is a good thing my new computer is small enough to fit under the human beds. Hm, maybe I could make my own office down here. What do you think? Feel free to let me know in the comments.

Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

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

Typing With Wet Claws: The Kids Are All Right Edition

May 7, 2015annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for a special Thursday edition of Typing With Wet Claws. I am writing to you today from a sunbeam, where I am practicing my selfie game. Camera angle is everything, Anty says. I think she may be onto something.

Anyway, this has been a busy week for Anty. I will tell you more about that tomorrow, because then there will be more links. It is season finale time, so there are more people kissing on TV than usual, which means Anty gets to talk about all the TV kisses. She is also reading a lot, and working on both her novel and collaborating on a novella. Which means I may need to pitch in more with the blogs for a while. That is okay. I could use the practice.

Today, Anty is keeping her head down and eyes on her own paper. She has a post to write for Buried Under Romance, a novel timeline to create (she will tell you about that later) and there will be important kissy things on Big Bang Theory, so she will probably have to write about that later tonight. She is also reading her way through a big stack of books from the library. Here is the current read:

Reading now…

Anty has been reading a lot of young adult books lately, though her focus is still historical romance. She wasn’t sure at first why she was reading these books, this much and this fast, but they come in from the library and go out again, very quickly. She is still reading historical romance, as you can see from her currently reading list on Goodreads (are you Anty’s friend there? She likes to have friends there.) so it is not instead of her favorite genre, but along with it.

It took her a few books to catch on to what she’s reading for here. Anty loves a strong authorial voice (this means the way the human writes, not when a human reads a book aloud, although she does like to listen to books on audio, so sometimes, it is both) and there are some excellent ones in YA at the moment. Some of her favorites are: John Green, Rainbow Rowell, and Gayle Forman. Alongside the voice, the other thing she found that the books she likes have in common is the intense emotion involved when young humans first fall in love (with other humans, that is, not with kitties, although some of these books do have kitties in them.) These are both things she would like to see more of in historical romance as a whole.

Anty will do this from time to time, latch onto some seemingly random source of information and study the, um, word Anty says is not nice for kitties to type. We will say “stuffing” instead. She studies the stuffing out of it and then she has a new tool to put in her toolbox and tell her stories even better than before. Some of these sources come up after big life events, and Anty can trace this to last year, around this time. She took Fangirl, by Rainbow Rowell, out of the library and read it while in the waiting room of the people vet, and something clicked.

Authorial voice is difficult to explain for a human, so I, who am a kitty, am not even going to try. Basically, you will know it when you hear it. Or read it. If Elvis Presley, Luciano Pavarotti and Justin Beiber all sang the same song (not at the same time, please) it would not be neccessary to announce who was singing when. It is the same with writing. Each writer has a distinct way they tell their stories, a combination of everything they have ever heard, seen, read, done, etc. The really good ones cannot be imitated, but can inspire others to find what they recognize within that voice and let it fuel their own.

That is what Anty is looking for here. Strong voice, intense emotion and also how to use some Very Hard Things in life within an emotionally satisfactory love story. Not all of the love stories end happily in YA novels (but that is okay, because the humans are very young and have lots of time to find a mate that is right for them) but some of them do. Some even take more than one book to tell. Where She Went, for example, is the second installment of another book, If I Stay. The first book was told from the female human’s point of view, and the second from the male’s, a few years later, after A Bad Thing Happened. This author has done the same thing before, in a different pair of books, and Anty finds this extremely interesting. Romance novels usually do have both points of view, but they are all in one book and take turns in different chapters. Having all of one point of view in one book and all of the other in another is new and interesting.

She is also listening to a lot of music by a band named Fun, which also gets into some intense emotions, so do not let their name make them sound fluffy. Right now, she is looking at me and tapping her foot, so I think that is all of my computer time for today. I will be back tomorrow with my regular post. In the meantime, you can see a list of some of the YA books she has liked here. If you know of any other books like this Anty might like, let her know in the comments.

See you Friday….

Until then, I remain very truly yours,

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

Flipping the Switch

May 4, 2015annabowling Leave a comment

Some days, the writing comes easy. Other days, it’s not. Then there are the days where getting to the writing place is a bigger challenge than making the story happen. This may be one of those days. It’s been one of those weekends. Possibly weeks. Hard to tell, sometimes. Things like this are going to happen to every writer, at one time or another. If it hasn’t happened yet, wait.

Real Life Romance Hero is back home, and we’re settling into the post-hospital, get-back-on-feet phase. Funny thing about that phase, it’s rarely the same twice, and yet it’s consistent. Caregiving is a different mindset from writing historical romance, though both are fueled by love.

On the caregiving front, there are medications to dispense, things to watch for, ways to help the loved one get back in their game. Some are physical, some are emotional. A lot of them take a lot of energy out of the caregiver, even when it’s given gladly. In most cases, things are more orderly in story world, the characters (usually) exactly where the writer has left them, and if they move, most times they will leave a forwarding address. Funny thing about the times when writing has to go on the back burner; sometimes, story problems work themselves out while the writer is tending to other things. Sometimes this has something to do with those other things, and sometimes, all the story needed was some time and space to do its own thing.

By now, I’ve found there is a pattern, at least for me, to switch between the two modes. No big surprise, it involves stationery.

My park boyfriend?
(considering that he swam away, probably not)

One of the best pieces of writing advice I ever received was from K.A. Mitchell:

Change your seat.
Open the file.

Okay, that’s two, but they go together. This morning, after not enough sleep and too much stress, the fact remained that it was still Monday, and nobody else is going to write my stories, blog entries, etc. So. This means writing must happen, even if brain wants to crawl under the covers and pretend it is eight years old. That’s where the sage advice comes into play. I filled my purple cup with ice and water, loaded my hobo bag with notebook, pen pouch and camera and headed for the park. No idea what I was going to do when I got there, but:

Change your seat.

*not* the view from my recliner

It’s been said that time + distance = perspective, and I do find that to be true. In this case, a walk around the lake (lack of mallard boyfriend notwithstanding) puts me in a different head space than the same four walls I see every day. I also noticed that I saw only the male ducks, which lets me know the gals may very well be tending their nests, which means bebeh duckage in the not too distant future. That alone is a mood booster, and the physical act of walking around the lake and peeping at blooming things does get the mind in a different frame.

boys, boys, boys

Which is the right place to be for:

2. Open the file.

In this case, the notebook. I’ve learned that, for me, when I’m staring at a blinking cursor, or don’t know what file to open first, the answer lies in good old pen and paper. Big notebook is by Papaya Art, small notebook is Moleskine. There’s something special in touching the smooth paper (will probably do another post on the Papaya Art books later) and deciding which color gets to come out and play when I freewrite.

Part of the freewriting is making lists. What projects do I need to work on this week? Which ones are time-sensitive/have a deadline? Which do I feel most capable to take on in my present state? Which ones need some time and distance? What specific tasks do I need to complete to make progress on said projects?

Breaking it down that way is a lot more manageable than looking at the big looming wall of Things To Be Done. I’m intuitive, but like order, so sometimes, it’s asking myself which task feels like it wants to be done first. Things usually look like this:

make bullet point outline for scene X in Project A
blorch (aka babble on paper) for scene Y in Project B
visit sites C, D and E to research Project F
respond to latest email from Collaborator on Joint Project

Maybe research is what I can do at the moment, or maybe I want to dive into the wilds of a blorch, where it’s gloves off and anything goes, where getting it all down as fast and true and messy as possible is what’s needed. Putting things down in pen and ink can be like putting a cage around the Tasmanian Devil whirling at will through my brain space. Contained, he’ll tire himself out, settle down, and we can have some fun together. Thing by thing, what do I need to make each thing happen?

Not that different, after all, from caregiving. Maybe some of this is taking care of those voices who live in my head. Maybe not, but what I do know is that it’s a pretty reliable way to flip the switch that opens the door to story world, and I’m glad it’s there.

Writer friends, how do you flip your switches?

Conference Recap, Part the Second: Saturday

April 30, 2015annabowling Leave a comment

Note to self: take more pictures next year.

view from our room

Spring is absolutely on here in the northeast, and perfect atmosphere for day two of NECRWA 2015. Though Friday certainly has its share of workshops, Saturday has always felt like Workshop Day to me, and this year did not disappoint. First, though, allow me to state that conference breakfasts with endless tea are basically Extroverted Morning Person Disneyland. Caffiene! Breakfast food! People who want to talk about what I want to talk about! Free book on my plate! :runs about room, trailing streamers:

breakfast food breakfast food breakfast foooooood

By this time, the usual suspects had formed an entourage, and most of us ended up at the same table to continue the conversations of the night before, with some new blood injected, business cards handed around and schedules compared. If I’d had a parrot on my shoulder for this weekend, a) that would have been an awesome icebreaker, and b) the first phrase he would have learned would have been “how many seats am I saving?” because traveling to workshops en masse is fun. I will not mention at which workshop somebody I have hung out with at more than one conference spilled coffee on me, but no staining occured, so all is well in that department.

First workshop of the day was Susan Vaughn‘s presentation on the conflict box, which was a new concept for me, and an intriguing one. Biggest takeaway there was to have hero and heroine’s actions each drive the other’s conflict. :rubs hands together and cackles with glee: I think I can have some fun with that.

I’ve seen Megan Ryder‘s presentation on storyboarding before, and jumped at the chance to see it again. Okay, the use of sticky notes was a big draw. I bought a trifold board for this exact purpose after seeing Megan present this a while back, and was interested to see if there would be any new information this time around. Sillly Anna, of course there was. The mere idea of drawing a permanent chart on the board gives me the heebie-jeebies. I’d rather slap the sticky notes up there willy-nilly and then put them in order as they start to make sense, which, as it turns out, is a perfectly fine way to handle things. Of course I knew that, but it’s always good to have reinforcement. Also, I need to buy more sticky notes, because shapes and colors.

After that, it was time to hear from Jackie Horne, another NECRWA chapter sister, on using the Meyers-Briggs personality typing system to build not only characters, but plot romantic arcs. I love any sort of personality typing, as I’m definitely character-led, so hearing how to use this to enhance the love relationship kept me on the edge of my seat. Breaking down personality types into four different functions, ranked from lead to least got my idea hamster running like crazy on its wheel. How to use each character’s personality to find out what both attracts them to their true love and how their true love drives them crazy? Right up my alley. I’ll be using this a lot.

As the lovely Melva was in high demand and her presence required at another engagement, I was not able to attend Gail Eastwood‘s presentation on author voice, another topic I could talk about endlessly, but, through the magic of networking, my luncheon seatmate happened to be a friend of Gail’s and asked if I’d like her to ask if I could have the notes. Mention angels and one appears – Gail happened by to say hi, we explained things, and she graciously agreed to email me her notes and the handouts. Very much looking forward to those.

All too soon, it was time to go, but, as so often happens, a seed was planted. Melva and I had started talking while waiting for breakfast, and before too long, a novella idea had formed. I haven’t collaborated with another writer in a very long time, but once the ideas started, they kept on coming. Melva and I would both blurt out the same thing at the same time, and that’s how I come to today’s featured picture. My first assignment was to write down all the stuff we’d brainstormed at meals and the car ride back. As the plethora of sticky notes shows, there was quite a bit. Stay tuned for updates.

Now, how long until next year?

Traditional post-conference sundae

Conference Recap, Part the First: Friday

April 28, 2015April 28, 2015annabowling 2 Comments

In more ways than one, but we’ll get to that. NECRWA’s annual Let Your Imagination Take Flight conference was this past weekend, and while I’d planned to blog about my experience immediately, life reminded me there is more going on than writing – but it does remind me how much I want it, so that’s all good.

Robin Sparkles, in action

Every conference starts with a road trip. Since my move to NY, this now means two hours with Housemate, en route to MA, where I make the switch to my longtime conference roomie, the lovely Melva Michaelian, who writes on the cozy side of romantic suspense. Two more hours on the road, nattering about works in progress and life in general, and then we get to walk the red carpet (only the literal one, more’s the pity. There was a carpet. It was red. No press, though. It was only a color. :hangs head: We strutted anyway, luggage in tow.) Technically no traffic jams, and we did not get lost, so this was a successful journey.

Since we had forgotten (whoops) that the workshop with Lauren Dane was actually the master class and had needed to be registered for in advance, Melva and I ensconced ourselves in the bar, where we ran into Laurie Gifford Adams, who writes YA, and is a former chapter sister to both of us. Laurie brought along her critique partner and our new friend, Dorothy Callahan, who writes time travel and paranormal. Melva, Laurie and Dorothy headed off soon after for the first workshop of the afternoon, but I had other plans.

Offices happen anywhere

One of the reasons I was excited about bringing the new tablet to the conference was exactly this; writing. A scene pounced me, and since writing is kind of the whole point of being a writer, I sat out the workshop and settled into this lovely hot spot to dip into story world for the next hour. I like the office program that came with the tablet, except for one tiny omission. No quotation marks. None. I only found this out when I opened the document. Curious, that. A hotel full of writers is probably the only place where one will hear, “oh, are you writing? Sorry, catch you later,” in a genuinely happy voice. I think I could get used to that.

Bringing Robin Sparkles (yes, I name my electronics, so will be using her name and the word “tablet” interchangeably) to the conference was like bringing a new baby. Lots of coos over how tiny and pink she is, what she can do, how we found each other, etc. Some good advice from more experienced tablet users on life with tablet, and a good deal of trial and error, though I think we did all right for our first time out. The onscreen keyboard is a lot easier to get used to than I thought it would be, but my fingers are still gigantic, and there is probably a stylus in my future. If you hear any salty language from this corner of the world, that’s me trying to get Spotify to load.

But enough about me. There was, indeed, swag. Pens, bookmarks and postcards abounded, as well as some other creative ideas. I love the small book of sticky notes, and the stress cube is sure to get some use. Letter opener is always useful (for contracts, checks, fan mail, etc, right?) I will never say no to lip gloss, purse-size pack of Band-Aids is essential, but the star of the swag for this year? Flash drive. I’d needed one anyway, and bloop, there it is. Mini size, so it fits in my coin pouch. Perfect. Honorable mention to the pen shaped like a paintbrush, front and center below:

The requisite photo of swag

Just the books:

TBR

Megan Frampton gave a wonderful workshop on the changing rules of the romance covenant. I really wish there were recordings of the workshops available, because there was so much information and discussion that I’d love to be able to go over it again. Does anybody else remember when athlete or rock star heroes were verboten? Now they’re hot. Age gaps, in either direction, characters with histories (or without) and persons of color in various subgenres, and more. An hour really wasn’t enough to cover the topic, but “you can’t do that in romance” can usually be rephrased as “depends how you do it.” If stepsibliing romance can be a thing, I think I’m not that far out there with my historicals (which do not contain romances between stepsiblings, fwiw.) Word is that Victorian settings have now overtaken Regency as the most popular era for historicals. I’d be interested to see the figures on that. Non-19th century historicals are still a harder sell (Challenge accepted!) though there was some discussion of medievals being on the rise. :pets Ravenwood:

Keynote speaker at dinner was the fabulous Sabrina Jeffries. I’m always excited when there’s a historical author as one of the speakers, and was doubly so this year. Her tips on writing through the hard times are a huge part of what kept my head above water when caregiving, grieving and settling relatives’ affairs (not the romantic kind, trust me) threatened to engulf everything else. The woman does know a thing or two about this business, and she has a great attitude. Her talk on creativity and how marvelous it is that we can make up stories and people and worlds all from our own imaginations was a lovely boost of encouragement. I had to give back, and let her know, when I bumped into her at breakfast the next morning, that I actually loved her historical set in Siam, lo those many years back. She said she’s looking to reissue it in ebook form, and I told her I hope she does. I’d love to read it again.

Friday evening wrapped with the second annual fireside gabfest in the lobby. Last year, it was me and Jodi Coburn (that’s us from last year, below,) whom I met over a crowded dinner table when we found out we had the same all time favorite historical romance novel. If that’s not an instant bond, I don’t know what is. This year, we were joined by Melva, Laurie and Dorothy.

There was much chatter about what we were all writing and reading. I drooled over Jodi’s story binder (so stealing her spreadsheet idea) and at one point, we all whipped out our mobile devices to share photos of our furbabies. All too soon, it was time to head to our respective beds, because there was still Saturday ahead of us. Tomorrow, as they say, is another day.

Typing With Wet Nails

for the love of romance

writing