Her Last First Kiss

Typing With Wet Claws: Begin as We Mean to Go On Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This week, I have on my metaphorical nurse hat, as Anty is not feeling well. She did not do a video blog this week, although she wanted to, because she got a cold sore the night before she was going to make her video blog. Cold sores are not very pretty, and they make Anty cranky. This is probably because she cannot have tea or pizza or wear lipstick (I have built in permanent lipstick. It is black, which goes nicely with the creamy fur around my mouth. I also have built in eyeliner. Anty says I am lucky that way.) and because she has to replace all lip products that touched her mouth for two weeks before the cold sore. On the plus side, this means she gets to buy new lipsticks, so that is  the good thing in all of this. Anty loves to get new lipsticks.

This is what Cranky Anty looks like. It is fearsome.

This is what Cranky Anty looks like. It is fearsome.

The rest of it is not as fun. It is very bright and sunny today, so Anty has even less energy. She will probably spend more of the day in her nice, dark office or go to the coffee house, which is in a basement and has brick walls. It is also very cool in there on summer days, so it is a plus. Either way, Anty will probably be bringing legal pads, because she is at the legal pad stage of things.

The legal pad stage has begun...

The legal pad stage has begun…

Anty first discovered legal pads while she was helping Uncle, her papa, and her own anty while they were all sick at the same time. She did not always have room in her lap to hold a notebook open, and legal pads fit nicely in her tote bag. Anty likes pretty legal pads. She will use the plain yellow ones if she has to, but the color is not good on her eyes, and plain white is glare-y. She thought neon colors would be too harsh, but with the right pen, they are actually soothing. Paper, in general, is more soothing to Anty than looking at a screen, especially when she is already feeling less than her best.

The day before yesterday, Anty talked to Anty Vicki, her critique partner, on the computer, about how the book was not moving along the way it should (I think it is because there are no cats in it yet, but does she listen to me on this one? No. I do not understand humans sometimes.) Anty Vicki said that it was because the story did not start in the right place.

Anty did not like that answer at first. She already wrote the opening scene. It gets important information out there, introduces the hero’s conflict and his goals and his backstory…and Anty was avoiding it. One thing Anty has learned over her study of her own creative process is that, if she is actively avoiding something, then she knows she has made a wrong turn and does not want to admit it. That is okay, though, because she has friends like Anty Vicki. Anty and Anty Vicki can tell each other when they are not doing the best thing for the story, and not get offended or upset by it. Which is why, when Anty came to Anty Vicki with a sneaking suspicion that the story did not start in the right place, she already knew, deep down, that she was right.

Anty Vicki asked Anty what was going to happen next after that first scene Anty has been avoiding. Anty told her the next scene, and went on for a  while about how that had to happen and it feels like that’s how it should..aha. Anty Vicki knows that when Anty hits a should, what Anty needs to do is punch it in the face (they actually say a different body part that only boys have. Not-fixed boys, that is. I do not know if all shoulds are actually boys, though,  so I will say face.) and do what is best for t he story. This is still a hard lesson to learn, because when Anty has written something, it has been written, and she would like it to stay there and be part of the book. (I told you she was cranky.)

Things do not always work that way, especially for writers who work in layers, like Anty does. Anty Vicki told Anty that no writing is wasted. Yes, Anty did work hard on that scene, and it did happen, but it will come out in a different way. Instead of the readers being there first hand, the hero can tell his version of it when he bursts in on the heroine’s calm, orderly world, while she is having an important conversation with another character. Anty Vicki says this also gets all three sides of the triangle in the same room in the first scene and gets the hero and heroine interacting right away. Anty admits that Anty Vicki is right about that one, so she is now taking the old opening out and putting the new one in. That is going to affect chapters that come after, which is a lot of work, but it is not as much work as avoiding the whole book, so it is okay.

This week, Anty also discovered the Discover Weekly function on Spotify, and found some new songs that she very much likes that way. This one, “Welcome To Wherever You Are,” by Bon Jovi, is going on her Go To Work playlist. She says it is appropriate for what she has learned this week. What do you think?

Anty also gets cranky when I use the computer for too long. I had better give it back to her now. Transcribing the new scene should make her feel better, and we all want her to feel better soon, so that is about it for this week. Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

Until next week...

Until next week…

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

Play in Your Own Sandbox, Keep All the Toys?

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Wednesday’s post on Wednesday – I’m on fire here. Okay, maybe a little cheat-y, doing another video blog, but that’s how it goes sometimes.

Many thanks to those who have asked about my From Fan Fiction to Fantastic Fiction and On Beyond Fanfic workshops. I love running those, and am working on an updated version I call Play in Your Own Sandbox, Keep All the Toys. In today’s video blog, I’ll take you through an introduction to the live version of my workshop, and will be making the handout available in the near future.

This goes along with my longstanding interest in authorial voice, which really does have a lot of similarities. Our voice is the sum total of everything we’ve done, seen, been, heard, tasted, experienced, heard about, enjoyed, not-so-enjoyed, etc. The common types and tropes that fire our imagination can be found in media that we already love, from music to TV and movies, books, computer games, and a whole lot more.

I know that all I have to hear is that a historical romance has even one scene in Bedlam or Newgate Prison, and I am there, baby. Shut up and take my money. This probably says something about me, but the journey of hero and/or heroine, from that cell in madhouse or prison, to reclaiming their own lives and seizing that happily ever after, gets me every time, and I will never get tired of it. Will I write my own stories including such? Whee doggies, yes. I do have some prison scenes in Orphans in the Storm, where I got to play with some of my favorite aspects of the above, and my heroine’s mother in Her Last First Kiss is in a madhouse when the story begins.

My love of TV shows such as Highlander, New Amsterdam, Moonlight, Forever, and Sleepy Hollow,  all featuring extremely long-lived gentlemen struggling to find their place in the modern world, inspired me to try my first time travel. All I’ll say on that front is that I am still looking for the right angle on that one, but when I find it, watch out. I know Angus and Summer aren’t going to let me leave them idle for too long. Maybe I need to do some more research, hm? Hard task, I know.

What tropes, archetypes or situations will get your interest every time?

Monday’s Blog on Monday and Video Blabber

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Hi, all. Monday again, and, this week, I am determined to stick to my ideal blogging schedule of Monday, Wendesday and Friday. Hopefully more, but at least those three. It does get easier when one can outsource one day of blogging to one’s pet. Definitely worth the extra treats that added service will cost, at least that’s been my experience.

Since today is a lot of stuff in a little time on my to do list, I’m going to leave the bulk of today’s post as a video blog. If there’s something you’d like to see in video, drop me a line in the comments or at annacbowling@gmail.com.

Today, I’m focusing on starting as I mean to go on for the week, which means I need to put in some solid work on Her Last First Kiss (you’ll get a tidbit on that book’s hero in the video) and read over the latest chapter from my critique partner, who is making some awesome progress on her current ms.

I will probably give myself a break to go talk to some ducks in the park later, but work comes first.

Thanks to those who asked about From Fan Fiction to Fantastic Fiction recently. Things are in the works there, so stay tuned. I really appreciate the interest, and if you can write fan fiction, you can totally write original fiction, though it is more than merely filing off serial numbers. You know you’re up for it, though, right? I believe in you.

Okay, I am in full on babble mode now, so will turn you over to the video portion of our show.

See you Wednesday, Liebchens.

Writing Proces Blog Hop (on one year time delay)

annabowling 2 Comments

Oh the things we find in our drafts folders. About a year ago, I was tagged by the lovely  Bonnie J. James, Bonnie gave some interesting questions, and I was delighted to answer them, but then domestic tornado chains ripped through and the draft got buried. Since I am not currently at RWA Nationals, where I can blabber about the writing process with any random person within my line of sight, I can do the next best thing and post my answers here.

1) What am I working on/writing right now?

Totally different answers on this question, one year later, which is as it should be. Currently,  I am working on three projects.

For Her Last First Kiss, K.A. Mitchell suggested the tag line, “My Best Friend’s Mistress,” which really does fit. When a neglected and misunderstood second son of the aristocracy with a talent for pleasing older women finds his soulmate in a practical minded mistress who is more than she seems, he must choose between the love of a lifetime and the respect of his only true friend. This Georgian historical is taking me on quite the wild ride, and I think I like it.

I am co-writing a novella with longtime critique partner and perpetual conference roommate, Melva Michaelian, which I can best describe as historical romance adjacent. It’s been a long time since I’ve collaborated with another writer, but it’s a whole lot of fun. Details coming soon.

Third project is something I’ve been debating for quite some time: an ebook version of my From Fan Fiction to Fantastic Fiction and On Beyond Fanfic workshops. Early days on that one, but I love presenting the workshop, both online and in person, so this feels like a natural extension

2) What have I learned about my writing process over the years?

Oh so very much, and it keeps on going.  Most importantly, that it’s going to change from time to time, and that’s okay.  I’ve learned that there are some constants, though, and that’s okay, too.  I compose best in longhand. Sitting alone in an empty room is not for me. I’m a talker, so if I’m stuck, blabbering about the stuckness to some obliging soul, writer or not, will usually loosen the clog. Focusing on hitting a word count is sure to give me a muscle cramp, but if I focus on telling the story, hey, look at all those pages with squiggly lines on them. I’m learning to trust my own voice, and that writing from the heart works a lot better for me than writing from the head. I’m more of a puzzler than plotter or pantser, though I do like to puzzle my way to a detailed outline that turns into a first draft. I go scene by scene, and if one doesn’t flow into the next one, time to go back and figure out where somebody made a wrong turn. Finding and correcting that wrong turn can be the difference between a finished novel and a partial one.

I love  having sensory input when I write, so I usually have music playing, or sometimes white noise, and I like to make Pinterest boards for various projects so I can refer to visuals. I’ve found that it works best when I keep the board private, so that’s a new thing I’ve learned as well. Mixing images and videos that all relate to the story at hand gives me a boost and keeps things fresh.

Now that I am moving files over to a new computer, I’m pretty much one hundred percent converted from Word to Scrivener, which I once thought I would never understand.

Ask me again next week, and there may be a different answer. Change is a constant.

 3) What is my writing schedule like?

I like to write uninterrupted by domestic tornadoes, so I like to get out of the house for at least two hours a day for concentrated writing time, usually in early afternoon, at a local coffee house or park. I’m a morning person, so getting up before the rest of the household works very well, but if I’m the last one up, I can squeeze in some time there, too. I’m a writing nomad; in a given day, I may work in my office, at the kitchen counter, in the living room, park, coffee house, whatever feels right for the day.

4) What is my favorite book about writing?

The Care and Feeding of the Girls in the Basement by Barbara Samuel. I cannot say enough good things about this book. Warm, wise and challenging, the prolific Barbara Samuel asks us to examine the facets of our individual voices and make sure the girls in the basement have what they need to keep sending up the great story stuff. This book is equally good for a pick-me-up or swift kick in the pants. I love, love, love her idea of Sunday Books, secret projects for our own pleasure, and found that extremely helpful.

For those keeping up with my Not at Nationals whines, here’s day number three:

In case you missed day two, it’s here:

i1035 FW1.1

Putting books I already own on my own chair doesn’t quite have the same effect as finding a new book on my seat at conference meals, but on the other hand, it might be time for a reread….

Typing With Wet Claws: Post-People Vet Editiom

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It has been a week of changes here, and the humans are still figuring out what some of them mean. If they are not sure, you can only imagine how it is for a kitty, but here is what I  know so far.

  1. Uncle is going to be home all the time for  a little while, while he gets better. This is good because I get to be with him all the time (I like that a lot) and he does not smell as sick as he used to smell. Kitties pick up on these things. Uncle’s regular people vet helped him figure out some of the things that made him feel really really bad, and he is doing a lot better already. It will take a little more time, but not very much, as he is learning how to take care of himself and Anty is making sure that he does.
  2. This also means that Uncle is home during Anty’s writing time. She says she can feel it when people are breathing her air. She loves Uncle and she loves the stories she is writing, and sometimes, it is a lot to juggle, so she is figuring out how to do that, especially when she is getting used to new technology.
    new computer in action

    new computer in action

    Merely because her tablet and new laptop are both pink does not mean they automatically share everything, and some files are still on the old laptop, like her Sims. It is complicated, but she is learning. The fact that the tablet and new computer are very portable is a big help. The fact that she cannot pick up Wi-Fi in the park is not that helpful, but there are ducks.

  3. Grandma’s people vets say that Grandma can go home this week, so my Mama is going back to where we used to live so that she can help Grandma get settled. Anty says she is turning Mama’s room into an art studio. That is fine by me, as long as my food bowl stays in the same place. (Sorry, Mama..) Anty could really use a room for her art, but I think she will miss Mama while she is gone.
  4. There are a lot of outside noises, and they are scary. Uncle says the city is making the street nicer, but all I can tell, because I am an indoor kitty, is that there is a lot of noise all day. Lots of loud machines and the ground shakes sometimes, and they took out all the trees on our street. Uncle says the city will put in new trees, and the birds will come back (I really like to watch birds in the morning) but that changes the light that comes in the living room window when I hang out with Anty and Mama at breakfast time.
  5.  Here is a picture of Anty’s latest library haul, except for the bottom book.
    one of these things is not like the others

    one of these things is not like the others

    That one is on the bottom because the cover curled back on itself during the really humid days last week, and she wants it to be flat. You will note that all of the books, apart from the bottom one, are YA, not historical. Anty would really like to be reading historical, but she says her brain will not go there right now, and that bothers her. She likes these books, but misses historicals. She has had a sneak peek at an upcoming historical by Kate Rothwell, whose books she really likes, so that is one thing. Anty thinks there should be more historical romances set in New York. Maybe she should write some. Well, some more. She already wrote one, My Outcast Heart. It was her first book, and there are kitties in it. I was not born yet, so none of them area based on me. The cover is not on Goodreads, which Anty will need to fix, but it does have one.

  6. Anty has discovered a new site for writers, called The Fearless Writer. They have also discovered Anty, and include some of these blog entries (not mine, so far, but maybe they are waiting for The Fearless Writer’s Cat to start, but then again, I am not exactly fearless) in their newsletter so that more people can find this blog. There are other things in it, too, but none of those people feed me, so I do not have to mention them. Put some treats in my bowl, and we’ll talk.
  7. It seems like there should be a seventh entry, because there are seven days in a week, and I blog once  a week, unless Anty needs my help more often, which she might, because of above reasons. Anty is hoping to get to watch Poldark this weekend, because it is set in the same era as Her Last First Kiss and she would like to soak in some atmosphere. If any of you know of other movie set in the 1780s, please leave them in the comments and I will tell Anty to watch them. That might help her not be so cranky about having to give season two of Game of Thrones back to the library before she has seen all the episodes.

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

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

Until next week...

Until next week…

In the Pink

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I didn’t set out to have pink electronics. Strictly speaking, the notebook, made of paper, is not electronic, but it does live the same tray with pink laptop, pink tablet, pink camera case (camera itself is silver, but case, not pictured, is pink. Okay, the jump drive stuck into the new laptop is orange (conference freebie, much appreciated) and the mini-mouse that’s out of frame is metallic red. Pink and orange fit under the red umbrella (yep, artist’s kids learn color theory early on; thanks, Dad.) This post isn’t about pink, though.

New laptop has joined the family, an HP stream. She’s light, she’s portable, she swims in the big blue sleeve that I always had to fit the old laptop into, and her new sleeve, when I find it, may very well be pink, though a skull or two couldn’t hurt. We’re still getting acquainted, she and I, and it’s a different experience from having to juggle a bigger laptop with an external keyboard. She starts and shuts down without a complaint, has a battery that isn’t dead, is, so far, bug-free, and despite the fact that we’ve been working together for less than a week (she came home on Wednesday) I think we’re getting along fairly well.

Not that there aren’t adjustments. She doesn’t have a CD drive, for one thing, which had me blinking in surprise for a moment. Time does move on, and so does technology. That’s fine. I can still Sim on the old laptop (though I did accidentally delete a huge chunk of custom content and then empty the recycle bin before I’d noticed what I’d done) and I have the DVD player for watching movies. I’m good there. What gave me a slight case of the heebie-jeebies was the lack of Word. Eep.

I’ve written in Word forever, ever since WordPerfect stopped being a thing. The mere thought of writing without it brought some uncertainty, but now, less than a week later, I can safely say I have almost entirely switched to Scrivener, the same program that had me turn off the tutorial after two minutes because it was too scary and complicated. Go figure.

What I like about Scrivener is that I can work on each scene in its own document, and still have them be part of the whole. Discovering, through my own poking around, the document note and sratch pad features, was something akin to magic. Finally, a screen divided the way I blabber in my head, where I can look at what I blorched out and make notes about what works and what doesn’t. I didn’t know I needed that until I got it, and now the thought of working without it makes me nervous. I love that I can label and color code text so that I can see at a glance what’s a draft (and what number,) what’s notes, where the character notes are, etc. So far, I have not used any pink backgrounds for full screen mode, but that all depends on the individual story, so it may yet happen.

I’d been feeling weary at the thought of migrating all of my Word files over to new laptop, and to Scrivener, which was a sign. I didn’t. Only active projects made it over, which brings a sense of relief. I don’t have to haul the corpses of dead novels around while I’m tending the new babies. It’s easier to focus, especially for my maximalist magpie brain (and the backgrounds in full screen are paradise for those of us who need something besides a blank page to look at.) The others are still there, waiting for their turns, and it’s okay if some of them don’t get turns after all. Not every story start makes it all the way, and some were started by people I no longer am. That happens.

Learning a new computer, and new writing software, goes a long way towards relearning how to write. With learning how I write now.  We learn a lot about ourselves when we pack to move, be it physically or virtually . That’s certainly true here. Spotify had to go on this computer; that was one of the first things, as my playlists are part of the process. Pinterest, too, for the inspiration boards. Sims are probably not coming to this laptop, as it’s for work, but a new/used gaming computer can come later. Photoshop Elements, too, is staying on the old computer (again, no CD drive, so that took the decision out of my hands.)

This one is for writing. This is where I will rip the guts out of what I have on Her Last First Kiss and rebuild it because now I have the technology and know the story better. This machine, not puddle jumping from semifunctioning laptop to semifunctioning desktop via flash drive, is where the novella will be written and two voices smoothed into one. She’s a lean, mean, romance writing machine, and that feels right. Writing is my happy place. I want to concentrate on that and do it my way. Much easier on body and brain than switching around and making do. Getting to know a new computer helps me to better know my own process. What do I naturally do with a fresh start? Sometimes I surprise myself, and that’s a good thing

Roadblocks and Detours, pt 2

annabowling 2 Comments

I’d had a plan for this entry, and had hoped to post another video blog, which will happen, but not today. After yesterday’s chaos, which Real Life Romance hero summed up as a “crawl underneath the covers head first and pretend The Walking Dead is real” day, I was looking forward to getting everyone off to work, so I could get down to work. Blog, scene due to collaborator, desperately yearning to get out plot board and fix my historical outline, long-neglected emails that have had only a series of “I’ll get to you ASAP” promises because domestic tornadoes keep swiping through, but today…today was going to be The Day To Get Stuff Done. Laughing yet?

Anyone who has been a caregiver long enough knows the “we’re going to the hospital” feel in the air. Easier trip this time than most, quickly seen, quickly sent home, well medicated, hospital-goer now resting and fed, me settled in with Housemate’s computer (aka the family computer until we can remedy the situation) and a cup of tea, because what else would one be having on the last day of June? Ready to write, but what? It’s another unexpected turn in the road, to be home this early on a hospital day, a very good thing, but goes to show how quickly we can become accustomed to routines, even stressful ones.

I’ve told Real Life Romance Hero that I don’t know if I’m going to know what to do with myself when I’m working on a computer where everything works, nothing has to be switched around, and I do not have to rest the keyboard on my :ahem: self when I need to access the touchpad. Actually write books and posts, one would hope. At least that’s the plan, but if I’ve learned one thing about plans, it’s that an old favorite Dutch proverb is of use here: Man plans, God laughs. I’m also reminded of a favorite Polish proverb, “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” which origin story I would love to find out from someone who was there at the time, but I digress.

Digression fits with the whole roadblocks and detours theme. Roadblocks are those things that plop themselves down in our way, cutting off the progress we thought we were ready to make. Detours are the ways we get over, under, around or through them. When we meet a roadblock, we have two options; turn back and end the journey right there, or find a detour. We can choose to get where we want to go by taking another way there.

Sometimes, we learn things by taking a different way there. Maybe we find a better route, or a more scenic one. Maybe we find that the route we never thought we would take is the one we’d like to make the regular one from then on, but never would have even known it existed if the roadblock on the route we always took wasn’t there. Roadblocks aren’t always bad. Sometimes, they’re a clear sign from something/someone bigger than ourselves, saying, “no, not this way,” and sometimes we grouse and kick and scuff our shoes in the dirt, because, dammit, we wanted to go that way.

When I first knew I was a writer, I honestly thought that the only genres open to me were mystery and hard science fiction. Neither are a good fit for me. Romance, though? That’s my home. But I didn’t think it was “allowed.” So I tried and tried and beat my head bloody against a mental brick wall, trying to drum up some enthusiasm, but nothing. So okay. Not those things. Romance. Romance, good. Romance natural. Historical romance as natural as breathing. Even though a good chunk of my current reading is realistic YA, every single time, there’s a part of my brain thinking “this would be amazing set in Prior Era; how would that affect Plot Point or Character?” That’s how I’m wired. So, that’s what I do. Pretty much anything I take in is going to get filtered that way, and I am fine with that.

When I first knew I wanted to pursue writing as a career, I honestly thought there was One Way to do it and it was some trade secret, accessed only to a privileged few. Time and experience taught me that was about as well informed as the only two genres rule above, which is to say, not at all. Must pants, because that’s true creativity. No, must plot, because that’s the only way to have structure. Must count words because that’s what Real Writers Do. Must write linearly because, well, just because, all right. That works for some, but if it doesn’t work for an individual (like the individual writing this blog post, for example) then that’s a big ol’ “detour” sign. If X doesn’t work, try Y. As K.A. Mitchell says, change your seat. Do something else.

If one computer doesn’t access the internet, then that isn’t the internet computer, easy as that. If there’s no H key, get an external keyboard (or only use words without the letter H, which I am sure can be done, but not by me.) Real Life Romance Hero said earlier today that he’s proud of me for slogging through when getting the job done means jumping through electronic hoops, and I am grateful to him for that, but I think the explanation is easy. I don’t have give-up in me when it comes to this writing thing.

My original plan for writing Her Last First Kiss was to make an outline, write the scenes, get a draft done by Date X and…well, no. Man plans, God laughs. Instead, I learned how I’m not really a plotter or a pantser, but a puzzler, and a layered one at that. Find a new thing about story or characters and go back and factor that in and that changes this, which changes the other thing, and that only proves that the story is alive. I can’t drive it to the end, like I’d planned to do, and I can’t let it drag me behind it, but we can work together, this living story and I, going over, under, around and through whatever life throws at us.

Roadblocks and Detours, pt 1

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I’m intoxicated and turned on by people who are really honest about themselves. 

-Neil Patrick Harris

This is not the entry I’d originally planned on, which fits the theme rather well. I am writing now on Housemate’s laptop, because mine now flat out refuses the internet except on increasingly rare occasions. I wrote the actual entry for today on that computer, put it on jump drive and planned to to a really easy copy and paste, only…there’s always an only…there is no Word on this computer. Wordpad refuses to cooperate, and there’s gobbeldygook before and after the actual document. I know when to give up on things like this, because I have enough crazy in my life and want to save some brain for actual writing.

I’d thought of bringing up the window and retyping the original post here, but I’m not going to do that, because, well, I don’t want to. This is my space where I can talk about what writing is like for me, and right now, it’s aggravating. I don’t want to retype what I already wrote. Going over and over and over the same thing because I once put those words on the digital page and therefore am obligated to…no. Not doing that. Well, maybe in part, but I’ll paraprhase, because I am cranky.

Paying attention, this year, to my own process, not what “should” work or what others think I “should” be doing, but what actually works for me (and by that, I mean gets and keeps me writing) has reminded me that, when something doesn’t work for me, that’s because it’s not right for me. Not that it or I am wrong or bad, but merely that square pegs do not fit in round holes, and no amount of pounding and cursing and forcing is going to make that happen. Put the square peg in the square hole, round peg in round hole, and we can all get on with our days, happier and more productive, and with a lot less cursing. Probably.

There’s a new session of Camp NaNo going on (coming up?) and…I will not be camping. Am not camping? Either way, for me, it’s a no this time, because Her Last First Kiss needs me exactly where I am, on the floor with my legal pads and sticky notes, elbow-deep in the guts of a story and cast of characters that are taking me on the sort of adventure I’ve wanted to get back into for years. Breaking up the fallow ground of what a story “should” be and letting the characters lead me. Taking a shovel to that ground and digdigdigdigdigdigdigdigdig until I hit the vein of the story, of the characters, of the journey we’re going on together.

It’s an interesting one, to be sure. Wrangling domestic tornadoes and dealing with persnickety electronics remind me how much I want this, and exactly what I am willing to do to get this story, and the novella, all the way to The End and out in the hands of readers. Some of those things are things I didn’t expect.

I’m not reading a lot of historical romance at the moment, which bothers me, but doesn’t. I am inhaling a ton of realistic YA, my story brain craving the deep emotions and intimate voices. I’ve seen four episodes of the first season of Game of Thrones, which makes my heart sing and do happy dances from the sheer beauty, the high stakes, the fact that nobody is safe and nobody is nice and the story world is wide, wide open for anything to happen. I still prefer my romantic couples not to have met in the womb, but watching this gets me excited and invigorated. I want that energy to carry over to historical romance, those rough edges, the sense of high emotional stakes and a grand scale. This morning, I finished reading We Were Liars by E. Lockhart, and wow. Brilliant, brilliant book, and, though it absolutely has its feet in a contemporary setting, it read like a historical, a little brown about the edges. GoT has the same feel for me; yes, it’s fantasy, but it “reads” like historical for me, and that’s where I’m watching from when I go into it.

All of these things go into the idea soup that feeds what I’m working on now, and what I’ll be working on after that. I need to take in what I mean to put out, easy as that. Trying to please every reader is not going to work out, but pleasing my readers? That, I can do. So I do what I know works for me. I write in layers. I talk. I have big furry messes of sticky notes and legal pads and cross things out and write things in and oh no, well, that changes everything, let’s backtrack and get it right…and that’s where the magic happens. I’m not beating my head bloody against a brick wall, but telling my stories, my way, and that’s actually fun. Even if I have to jump around among four machines to get a single document into gear. I know why I’m here; I’m  a storyteller, and the stories need to get from my head to readers’, so that’s going to happen, whatever roadblocks present themselves.

I like to write a lot about identity, about characters who get to a place where they don’t let others tell them who to be, but find confidence and strength in who they actually are, who they actually were all along. Works for me.

Critical Mess

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You just write everything down that you can dream up about the story. Don’t worry if the early drafts don’t make sense. You need to write and write until you understand the characters and what wonderful and horrible experiences they’re having, as well as what their relationships are like and how all those things change their lives. Once you’ve nailed that down, start revising so that the scenes unfold in a logical and satisfying order.
-Laurie Halse Anderson

Monday morning is here again, and that means another week of wrangling the big fuzzy mess of what’s in my head into some semblance of order. Today’s quote speaks to me deeply, because that’s where I am in the writing of two different projects. Characters and relationships and backstories and settings and people and places and things and all of that good stuff bubbles around in the cauldron of my mind, the characters begin to trust me enough to tell me that they’d really rather not X, thank you; they’ll Y instead, and I get an urge to put all of this mess in order. I’ve only recently discovered Laurie Halse Anderson, first through her amazing YA, The Impossible Knife of Memory, where teen heroine Hayley has to navigate her way through her single dad’s PTSD after he returns from military service, and, from the first page, I was knocked flat on my back with her use of language and emotion. Definitely stuff I would like to have flavor my own work. Finding out that she also has historical fiction, set in a period adjacent to the events of Her Last First Kiss both excites and frightens me a little, so I am only going to peek at those books on the library shelves through my splayed fingers for a while.

Shoulds are formiddable enemies. We don’t always know where they come from, but we know the stark terror they can bring about in a writer, the paralyisis, and even the death of perfectly good characters, plot points and even entire books, because, well, things should go like ABC, and this thing I’m working on here doesn’t, so…yeah…better put that away. Be a good little do-bee and follow the crowd, because all those publishers and all those readers and all those industry insiders must be right. I’m not sure if Shoulds are more like walkers from The Walking Dead or white walkers from Game of Thrones (maybe both? I’m only now getting into GoT; late adopter, I know.) They tell us we have to follow Big Name Writer’s process to the letter, when, really, we don’t, because we aren’t Big Name Writer. Maybe we’re not even in the same genre. We don’t come from the same place, geographically, psychologically, or what have you, so, really, it’s a ridiculous assumption to say that one size fits all. It doesn’t. I keep saying that because I keep needing to hammer it into my own head. Tough lesson to learn, but an important one.

This past week, the heroine for HLFK revealed something about herself that I hadn’t taken into consideration, but it makes perfect sense, makes her more interesting and makes writing this book feel a lot less murky. I think this might be my week for my hero to make a similar relevation, and I hope he does. That would make my job a lot easier. Though I’ve usually said I’m a plotter when asked if I’m a plotter or a pantser, I have learned that I need to take a third option. I’m a puzzler. Everything comes at me in one big blob of stuff, and I scramble to get it all down. In the past, I’ve felt I should have all my ducks in a row in my head before a single word hits the page, but now I know that I don’t work that way. I need the mess. I revel in the mess. I thrive in the mess.

I’ve been afraid of the mess, because it’s big, and, well, messy, and I like order. Which is okay. I can let the mess reach critical mass, then step back and start sorting it into some logical sense of order. Events fall into chronological order, which means a timeline will probably be useful, and actions have reactions, which spawn more actions, and on and on until we reach the end. The most useful piece of writing advice I’d recieved for many years was that a story can be defined as a character’s journey from wanting something to either getting it or realizing that they will never get it. When one of those things happens, then the story is over. Since I write romance, that usually means my hero and heroine are going to get that thing they want. Even if they don’t, they get something better, and, of course, they get each other. If they have each other, they can get through anything.

This is the part of the process where the magpie has most of the stuff in her nest (most of it; there will always be gathering) and now it’s time to put it all in order. I won’t lie; I wish I could get an idea and bloop, put it all on the page, exactly as is, in a set number of words per day (because, man, is that a hard Should to shed) but that’s not me. I need to splash around in the shallows, grab some of this and some of that and what-am-I-even-doing and oh-that’s-what-I’m-doing and there comes the moment when all falls in line, and yes, that’s right. Now make story.

Will do, brain. Will do.

Paddling Along (and avoiding toxic Shoulds)

annabowling 2 Comments

Plot springs from character… I’ve always sort of believed that these people inside me- these characters- know who they are and what they’re about and what happens, and they need me to help get it down on paper because they don’t type.
– Anne Lamott

Yesterday was not the best writing day I ever had, but it got me excited about writing in general, and Her Last First Kiss in particular. Yesterday was one of those days that wouldn’t. We all have them. If you think you haven’t, wait. They will come. I’d had time on my schedule blocked out for HLFK work, and that was all I could do in that time. Only problem was…nothing.

Opened Scrivener. Yep, those are my words on the screen, and those people do live in my head, but we sat there and blinked at each other, shifting uncomfortably in our seats, answering “what are we doing here today?” with “I was hoping you knew.” Doesn’t matter who said what, when, because it went both ways. Well, okay then, we’ve hit that moment. One of the best parts about relearning my own writing process is learning to recognize the old bugaboos that have stopped too many stories in their tracks. Rolling along, hit a bump or even a wall, and then, well, let’s back up a bit. What went wonky?

Now that I have my office hours blocked out, it’s easier to focus. If it’s not going to be a writing day, it can be a research day. That, too, was a blank, because I’m still figuring out how I research. Leafing through factual history books doesn’t always work, because I end up face down, snoring, all too often. I want to be in that world and feel it all around me. I want the senses of the time, what my individual characters would notice and what would affect their moods, thoughts, choices, etc. That’s because they are in the driver’s seat. They live their lives, I follow them around, sometimes picking up the cryptic breadcrumblike clues they leave in their wake, hoping I’m smart enough to figure it out, though they don’t yet trust me enough to tell me the real stuff and wait for me to puzzle things together.

Yesterday was one of those days. I set up a Pinterest board (private, because all WIP boards have to be private or I lose the scent) which consisted of a couple of character pictures (I don’t normally cast stories, but if a face goes with a character, that’s fine,too) and..ummm…what ele? Clothes, I guess? A house? I am not good at this sort of thing, people. I feel like I should be, but there we are at the toxic shoulds again. Historical romance is my natural writing home, so I should be into research, right? I love books, so I should get all excited about paging through dusty tome after dusty tome until I find the exact umm…something…that will get all my ducks in a row and eh, what were we talking about again? I got distracted. I feel like I should want to read more historical biographies (even the fictionalized ones can be problematic) because isn’t the best way to find out what it was like for someone to live at that time to, I don’t know, read books about actual people who did live at that time? For some, yes. For me, not so much.

There was a time when I would have shaken my finger at my own reflection and scolded myself for this. Something like “bad researcher, no accuracy for you.” I once went on a research trip with two other writer friends to Mystic Seaport. They quite happily settled into the research library, made use of the staff to find books on the events they needed. I thought the library was gorgeous, but weren’t the walls closing in? Oh, just me? Okay. I had to get out. Had to. I didn’t crack a single book that I can recall, but to this day, I remember what it was like to wander the deserted streets of that seaport in the chill gray air and the bracing wind. I still have broken seashells that I scavenged from the shore and stuffed in my pockets. I still remember being the only person in the shipyard, breathing in deep of the scents of salt and sap and sawdust, placing my hand on the ribcage -because that’s what it looked like- of a boat that had been built before my grandfather had been concieved and knowing, knowing why a character in the ms I was working on at the time loved the sea as much as he did and why another wanted to build ships more than anything else in the world. They met me there, and I count that research enough.

Should I have stayed in the library and researched like the others? Debatable. I didn’t know what facts or records I needed for that story (still don’t, which could be one of the reasons that ms is at rest) but I did know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, while walking those empty streets, that I was in the world of Miranda Jarrett’s Sparhawks (okay, maybe a few decades off, but still…) When the wind slammed a heavy glass door into my shoulder when I decided to go into a building and look at an exhibit on …umm, something to do with ships….the pain wasn’t as as strong as “cool, now I know what this feels like. I can describe this.” That got me excited. That’s the way I want to approach research, because that’s what works for me.

I broke for lunch yesterday, after time spent pinning stuff that could have sort of maybe been somewhat related to my people and went to lunch with Housemate. She, kind soul, let me babble, and then dropped a solid gold bomb on me. Well, of course I was stuck on what Heroine would do. Heroine doesn’t like X. She likes Y. Oh. Y. Why didn’t I think of that? So, I gave Heroine Y in my head and darned if she didn’t react totally differently to Plot Point. Okay. I can work with that. She’s dropping breadcrumbs again, and so I must be off.