my books

Typing With Wet Claws: Some Weeks Are Like That Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is cool and rainy today, so I am hunkered down for the duration. Rain will not find me here in my hallway, outside Anty and Uncle’s room. The weather is also gray, like me, which may be why Anty finds this kind of weather very beautiful. Technically, the vet says I am a brown tabby, but all cats are gray in the dark. Anty says the old-timey people in her stories knew that phrase, but it was not talking about actual cats. She says the old-timey meaning was only for grownups, and not very nice ones, at that. Anyway, since I am a kitty, I see very well in the dark, so I win.

Where Anty wins (aside from winning Uncle) is that I have to talk about where to find her writing on the interwebs (apart from here, that is) before I can talk about anything else (which is mostly about her writing, most of the time, anyway, so I do not see what the big problem is, but whatever. Anty is the human, and if she understands, that is good enough for me. ) As always, she was at Buried Under Romance, like she is every week. This week, she talked about what makes a summer read. That post is here, and its link on the main page looks like this:

BURSummerisComing

 

For Anty’s Goodreads challenge, she is now two books behind again, and she is not very happy about that, but I am willing to cut her some slack. Uncle did not feel well for a large part of this  week, and there were two days when Anty did not feel that great, herself. Also there were domestic tornadoes. Anty is making progress on her reading, however, and all of her current reads are historical romance, so I am going to call that good, considering extenuating circumstances. Keep on keeping on, Anty. You can still turn this around. Finish reading two books this weekend, and you are back on track.
I will use the same graphic as last week, since she has only read the same books.

GRreadingchallenge060917

only one more book, and it’s forty!

 

Even though Anty did not write a lot on the interwebs this week, she has been busy writing. This week, she finished chapter ten of her second draft of Her Last First Kiss. Both Critique Partner Vicki and Miss N had some very nice things to say about this version of the chapter, which gets Anty all excited to head into the next one.

Anty also had a Skype conference (I still think they should spell that Skye Pee, but whatever) with Anty Melva, her co-writer on Chasing Prints Charming, and they are ready to embark on editing their completed first draft. Anty Melva has written with another writer before, but Anty has only had solo books published so far. There may be some adventures ahead, as they learn what method of editing works best for them. So far, they are going to take the beginning-beginning, each edit it, with special attention on the parts written by the other person. They have one week to get this done, so we will see how that goes.

Now that Anty’s current projects are moving along, it is also time for her to make some noise about the books she has already written. So far, she has made two teasers. One is for one of her books, Queen of the Ocean. It looks like this:

QueenOfTheOceanTeaser

Note the lack of cats, but there is a bright spot. There is a ship in the story (actually more than one) and old-timey ships always had cats on board, to keep the rodent population under control. They are the true heroes of the sea. You’re welcome.

The other teaser is for Orphans in the Storm, her English Civil War historical romance. That one looks like this:

OrphansInTheStormTeaser

There would be cats on that ship, too.

Anty is still working on teasers for her other books, Never Too Late, and My Outcast Heart. After that, well, she’d better write some more books, or her bookshelf page (that is coming soon) will be very short. She has plans to make teasers for Her Last First Kiss, and Chasing Prints Charming, as well as her postapocalyptic medieval romance, Ravenwood (at least the title has birds in it; that is promising. I like birds. They are delicious.) which may get a different name, but we will see.

Making teasers is fun for Anty, because she is a visual thinker anyway.  Thinking is something Anty has been doing rather a lot of lately, most of it about writing and publishing. Also about putting more cats in her books. I am happy to announce that Drama King, the next contemporary she will write with Anty Melva, does have a cat in it.  He is an orange tabby, and he’s seen some things. I have high hopes for him.

For now, though, it is a rainy day, and Anty has laundry to do, which means a solid hour of reading time, while the clothes get clean and dry. She also promised Mama to read her some of chapter ten, because Mama is looking forward to chapter ten. Mama has not read the whole book yet, but she knows the general idea, and wants a little taste. Maybe Anty will consider giving her other readers a little taste in a while, too.  She is looking forward to making a proper introduction of Hero and Heroine to her readers, so readers will be used to Hero and Heroine’s scents when Her Last First Kiss becomes a real book.

That is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

skyebanner01

skyebyefancy

Until next week…

The Art of Being a Tease(r)

annabowling 4 Comments

This past Saturday,  author Marianne Rice was our guest speaker at our monthly CR-RWA meeting.  The topic? Book teasers. What I knew about them? Zero. Okay, not really zero, but close enough. I knew they were pretty, that I liked seeing them, and the Greek chorus in my head, this time comprised of my dad, a lifelong artist, retired commercial art director; and cover art queen, Elaine Duillo, would not remain quiet. Here’s what they said:

Dad: Advertising is the art of telling people what they want.

Elaine Duillo: A cover’s job is to get the reader to cross the store to pick up that book (paraphrased, from a phone interview that I still fangirl over,  coughety-cough years after the fact.)

It’s not possible to think of those two bits of wisdom, without also thinking of the anecdote that prompted the Duillo quote/paraprahse. I’d been perusing the new releases in the romance section of the Waldenbooks (see, I told you this was ancient history) down the street from where I lived at the time. Two little girls arrived about the same time I did, far too young to be romance readers themselves, as in write their ages in single digits young. Girl A pointed excitedly to one cover. “Ooh, I’ll be her,” she squealed. Girl B pointed to another cover. “I want to be her.” Over and over again, through the selection, picking out their favorites, until their big person summoned them, or they ran off on their own; I don’t remember which.  I wanted to pick out my next reads, so their ultimate destination wasn’t my concern, though I suspect they may well have become romance readers, and I hope that they are.

What I do know is that I was those girls when I was their age, and my Aunt Lucy’s visits always included a big brown paper grocery bag full of historical romance novels, as a gift for my mother. My job was to take the bag to the laundry room and de-bag the books, for Mom to look through later. I was forbidden to read them, as I was too young, but those covers were fair game. I spent a lot longer than I strictly needed on that job, crafting stories in my head, based on the cover images and back blurbs, even if I didn’t know what all of the words about the more, ah, intimate, sides of the story, meant. Fast forward coughty-cough years, and I am not only a romance reader, but a romance writer and blogger. I write romance, and about romance, and, though it’s been a while since my last release, I do still have a backlist and several projects in the works, so this workshop on teasers was more than relevant to my interests.

Because I learn best by doing, I was angry at myself for not having brought my laptop to the workshop, as Marianne Rice gave us the opportunity to create a book teaser on the spot, and I love that kind of thing. Both the nifty playing with graphics, and the chance to make something at the drop of a hat, and showing off one of my book babies wouldn’t hurt, either. I tried. Canva is not compatible with my Android phone, so I seethed, then took out a Post-It and sketched a layout. As soon as I got home, I put the new knowledge to the test, and made my first ever teaser:

QueenOfTheOceanTeaser

Now I want to read this again.

Not bad for a first time at bat, if I do say so myself, and there was a very similar feeling when I hit “save” as the first time I saw the first version of the cover. It’s real, or, in this case, it’s still real. My baby is still pretty, and I still want to pump a fist in the air when I think of Mateo and Frances sailing off into the sunset, for real. Okay, the sun was already down, but give me this one.

Queen of the Ocean gave me the chance to play with one of my favorite tropes, reunited lovers, which works super well for novellas, and dip my toes into the waters of one of my favorite eras, the sixteenth century. No Court intrigues in this one, but I still get a delicious shiver when I think of the opening scene, of Frances at the water’s edge, staring down the only way she saw to escape the grim reality of life among a family of wreckers. She clings to the memories of Mateo, her childhood best friend and first love, spirited away by his seafaring father, out of her life forever…until the same sea that took him from her dumps him at her feet when his ship runs afoul of her family’s plans.

All of that came rushing back when I browsed through images free for commercial and personal use.  Add a small blurb, the title, pop the cover in there, and there we have it. My name was the last thing I added, because it hadn’t crossed my mind to do so before, but it’s mine. I wrote it. I’m proud of this story, and if doing something I’d do for fun anyway (playing with pretty graphics) could get Frances and Mateo into the hands of new readers, well, that’s a win for both counts, from where I’m sitting.

For today, my trip back in time takes me not to sixteenth century Cornwall, with Frances and Mateo, but eighteenth century London, with Hero and Heroine, and Her Last First Kiss, because critique meeting is tomorrow, and if I want N’s feedback, I have to have pages to show her. Even so, making the Queen of the Ocean teaser reminded me that I have this lovely graphic, by the amazing Sandra Schwab (who also wrote my favorite gothic, Castle of the Wolf) still waiting for the right text:

rubyrenderschwabplain

Image by Sandra Schwab

The first time I opened the email with this image in it, my first thought was, “there she is,” and there I was, in the scene where she takes out her pistol and aims it at…well, that would be telling. It would also be writing, or in this case, re-writing, because we’re on draft two of this now, Ruby and her hero and I, and every day’s work brings us one step closer to getting that story in the hands of readers, too.  Seeing a visual representation of that journey, even while it’s still in progress, can provide a much needed creative boost. If it whets some reader appetites along the way, well, we’ll take that, too.

What do you like to see in a book teaser?

TheWriterIsOut

 

Do What You Love

annabowling 1 Comment

I’m going to thankblame Rose Grey for this one. I first met Rose a few years back, when we ended up at the same table for one of the meals at NECRWA’s annual conference. The entire table clicked, and we became the Last Call Girls, after the time we shut down the dining room at another meal, because we’d been so involved in our conversation that we did not notice that A) the meal was over, and B) we were literally the only people in the room not employed by the hotel. The staff hadn’t wanted to disturb us because they thought we were having an important business meeting, which we totally were. I’m not going to say what kind of business, but that’s the story we’re sticking to on this one.

Anyway, Rose is delightful in person, and I jump on her new blog entries like a starving hyena  would chow down on an unattended plate of Kobe beef.  Besides blogging and providing fascinating dinner conversation, Rose writes contemporary romance, and she does it at a desk that sounds a lot like mine.  Before I read Rose’s  blog entry on writing rituals, I hadn’t thought much about not having my secretary desk all the way open, all the time. That way, I could always be ready, wouldn’t have to set up anything, but then there were those words about adding a sense of ritual to the writing process, and hmm.

If I closed my desk at the end of a session, I’d be free to do other things. Leave the office, go home, as it were even though my office is already in my home. If the desk were closed, then I could open it at the start of the day. This wasn’t possible with the monitor in front of the cubbyholes,. and I do love my cubbyholes. Combine that with my other friend, H, getting used to her contacts and our resulting discussion on being nice to eyes and how it is a good thing for writers, and double hmm.

Because this desk predates my time on this earth, it has developed a few idiosyncracies over the years. One of which is that the chains which had always held the work surface open finally gave their all, about the time we moved back to New York, and, if I wanted to have a work surface, period, I had to find some other way of supporting it. The answer was close at hand; the drawers beneath it. Open one. Boom, support. You’re welcome. I am not proud that it took me until Monday (as in the Monday that is two days ago) to figure out that, if I opened the left drawer instead of the right one, I would have somewhere to put my legs. Hopefully, I will be quicker on the uptake next time.

Having somewhere to put my legs makes both computer work and handwriting a lot easier, which makes the whole process of writing my morning pages that much easier. Since I’m still early pages into my current morning pages book, I boost the writing surface on the facing page with another notebook, so it’s at the same level as the pages with hundreds of others to support them. This morning, as I put said notebooks away, I noticed I had a theme going on, that I had not intended:

DoWhatYouLoveNotebooks

Do we see a theme here?

Okay, okay, I get it. Message received. This does not surprise me. Since today is #1lineWed on Twitter (I love #1lineWed) I had that on my daily task list, and figured that was as good a time as any to pop the pages from my Monday marathon session into the master document, and then search for my lines that fit this week’s theme. Figured as well, that it was probably a good time to make sure the font is uniform (writers are excellent at finding plausible reasons to procrastinate) and so did a select all so that I could do exactly that. Normally, I don’t count words at this stage of the game, because that is a guarantee that my focus will shift to playing a numbers game, sweating over every keystroke, and, if left unchecked, end up in creative paralysis, which totally sucks, and I do not recommend it. This time, however, the count was there, and…well, the actual word I said was, shall we say, colorful, so I won’t use it here, but the result did surprise me. I’m further along than I thought. A lot farther.

So, how did I get there? It wasn’t that long ago that the bulk of my novel-related writing was me  filling an endless stream of Moleskine Cahiers with some variation of “I can’t do this, why can’t I do this?” My writing soundtrack was my Hypercritical Gremlins singing me the song of their people. While I’m not saying the Hypercritical Gremlins will never find their way back to my office closet, they have been quiet in recent days.

The difference, I think, is in forgetting the shoulds, and doing what I love.  If that means reading decades-old books rather than the new, hot thing, okay. If that means futzing around with my desk, if that means taking the time to pick out pretty paper and the right pens to write with on it,  while my imaginary friends perform their own rituals so they’re ready to meet me when I open desk and notebook, I am fine with that.  I can close the desk at the end of the day, tuck my imaginary friends into bed (often with each other, because, hey, romance writer here) and know we’ll both be in the right place when it’s time to open for business once again.

In the meantime, the ducks in the park probably have babies by now.  I could maybe go look for them, once today’s work is done.

TheWriterIsOut

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Hello Summer Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is not technically summer yet, because the calendar says the official start date is a little while from now, but Anty says that it is close enough, because it is now June, we are past Memorial Day, and, well, it feels like summer. Hopefully without the heat sickness this year, because Anty has Stuff To Do this summer. There is petting me, feeding me, paying attention to me, and also that writing thing. Purr-sonally (even though I do not actually purr) I think she would have a much better time of that writing thing if she got rid of her office carpet so that her mews could be closer at all times. When I say writing times, I mean snack time, feeding time, petting time, okay, and story time, too.

Since the deal is that I can talk about whatever I want after I tell readers where they can find Anty’s writing on the interwebs (besides here) this week, I had better get to that. First, as always, Anty was at Buried Under Romance this week. This time, she talked about the different ways book lovers can organize their treasure troves (by which I mean books.) That post is here, and its link on the main page looks like this:

BURdoityourshelfie

Anty also had a post on Heroes and Heartbreakers this week, and this time, it was about tracking the relationship of New Girl‘s Nick and Jess, one of her favorite sitcom couples. That post is here, and it looks like this:

HHNickAndJess

She also participated in the H&H Bloggers’  best reads of May.  If you would like to know what Anty’s favorite read of the month was (and have not already guessed from reading her blog, or Goodreads) or are curious about what the other H&H bloggers liked best, you can read about that here.

Now, speaking of reading, and because it is the first Friday of the month, we get to check in on not one, but two reading challenges Anty is doing. First, let’s look at the regular Goodreads challenge. Right now, Anty’s challenge looks like this:

GR2ndJune

Anty remains on track this week, which makes me very proud of her. Keep it up, Anty. I believe in you.  Now we will check in on the historical romance reading challenge.

hr-challenge-2016-badge

Anty read one historical romance novel this week, A Lady’s Code of Misconduct, by Meredith Duran. Her review of that book is here. If that seems a little light for her goal of reading more historical romances, we need to look at the big picture. Since the beginning of the year, Anty has read thirty-seven books. Nineteen of those are historical romances, which puts her over the fifty percent mark, so I am going to give her a passing grade on this, but she can still make more of an effort to read more historicals. Keep going, Anty. You are getting there.

Now it is time to talk about the writing that Anty is currently doing. Anty took this picture by accident one day, while taking her deskscape image, and kind of liked it, so she made it into a banner, but did not know what to use it for, so I will use it to mark where I talk about her everyday writing. I am not sure if it needs words on it or not, but I think it is a decent banner, anyway.

topofdesk

Cat-ption coming soon…maybe.

This week sees Anty entering the double-digit numbered chapters of her second draft for Her Last First Kiss.  She is still learning new things about this book as she goes, mostly how to get more inside the characters’ heads, because that is where the interesting stuff happens. Some of that interesting stuff has involved old-timey underwear, because that is going to come into play in that chapter.

Not only does this mean that Anty has to look for pictures and descriptions of old-timey underwear, but explain it to both Miss N and Critique Partner Vicki, who are not familiar with the underwear of this era, how said old-timey underwear works. This resulted in some interesting discussions, usually including a reminder that people in 1783 would think the underwear people wear in 2017 is as weird as 2017 people find the underwear of 1783. My underwear is built-in fluff, because I am a Maine Coon, and that means I have a double coat. It is a little different for Anty’s imaginary friends.

The chapter Anty is working on right now is one where Hero and Heroine cross one of the points of no return, where they cannot go back to the way things were before, and that is going to make things awkward, because they still have to live under the same roof. I know what you are thinking because of the underwear mention, and you are wrong. It is not that. It is also the point where Anty said some very interesting words when scenes move themselves around. She can’t keep a scene with Hero and Character X in this chapter, because A) it already happened in a previous chapter and B) Character X left in the previous chapter, so now it’s Hero and Heroine thrust alone together when they would really like to go in opposite directions, but then there would be no story.

Some of Anty’s critique partners have said that Anty likes the rewriting that happens in a second draft more than she likes the initial writing in a first draft, and they may not be wrong on this one. By the second draft, Anty knows the characters better, and, sometimes, they have a few things to tell her, that she did not know the first time. That happened with Anty’s writing on Her Last First Kiss this week, and she kind of likes that. She says it means that the story is real and alive. I think being a live is pretty good, so go, Anty. Keep moving in that direction. Also the direction of my food bowl.

That is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

skyebanner01

skyebyefancy

Until next week…

Accidental (Story) Babies

annabowling Leave a comment

This wasn’t the deskscape I intended to post today. The deskscape I intended to post was the usual sort. Desktop wallpaper, cup of tea, couple items in front of the screen. Pink notebook, because I’m going to be making use of that for this session, and Happy Bunny, because, well, Happy Bunny.  It looked, without editing, (except for size) like this:

Deskscape053117a

Meh…

I didn’t want to change out the Union Jack desktop, same as I didn’t want to change out Ichabod and Abbie (refresher below, for new readers)

WritersDeskAug012016

Hey, guys.

but A) it bugs me when all my deskscapes look too much the same, and B) look at that nifty shelfie background, that reminds me of some of my favorite authors, and the sort of books I want to get on to other peoples’ shelves. It was an okay picture, and I fiddled with it some, in editing, but it wasn’t the right picture, because it didn’t tell the whole story.  It didn’t talk about Monday night all-nighters, when it’s me and my imaginary friends, because the rest of the world is asleep, and we slip back into 1784 together.

This header picture comes from me pushing back my chair to either refill my water bottle (not pictured) or feed Skye (probably both) and thinking that the desk I’d been working at for hours looked pretty cool. I took the picture. I didn’t intend to share it.  I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. It was too messy. People would see. There’s a character reference picture on the screen. People will think I “cast” my stories, and I don’t.  They’ll be able to read the text on the screen. They’ll be able to read the text on the pages, both printed and handwritten. They’ll hate it. (My dad’s voice, in the back of my head, whispers, “they’ll steal your ideas.” Thanks, Dad, but that’s not how it works.) They’ll hate me. I’m doing it wrong. Dooooooooooooom.

Uh, no. No to all of that. This is the picture that had to go with today’s blog, because this is the real picture. This is what my working desk looks like. Her Last First Kiss is not the book I intended to write, but it’s the right one. It’s not nice. It’s not comfortable.  It’s late nights and marked-up pages, and more surprises than I had expected as I embark on chapter ten of the second draft, which is what I’m doing today. It scares me.

But, Anna, another, more rational, voice in my head reminds me, you already wrote the book. Thanks, Past Me, but this is different. Now that I have written the first draft, I know Hero and Heroine better, and I know not only what they’ve already been through, but where they still need to go, and it’s…sticky. It’s messy. It has scribbled notes in two different pencils and green Marvy Le Pen ink, sticky notes both Post-It and PaPaYa! Art, and, somehow, “Accidental Babies,” by Damien Rice, became one of this story’s theme songs. I did not plan it that way, but, the first time I heard it, boom, there it was.

The lyrics are very much grownups-only, and may not be a gentle reader’s cup of tea, but, as soon as the opening notes found their way through my earbuds, I-don’t-remember-how-long-ago, the connection was instantaneous. Yes. That. It’s raw. It’s honest. It’s imperfect. It hurts. It’s right. It’s right for the story, and right for the characters, and, as I get myself ready to take that irreversible step into the next part of the book, it’s a big moment for all of us.

The scene I’m tackling now is one I’d always wanted to write, before Hero or Heroine ever showed up in my head, before the idea for Her Last First Kiss ever existed. It was one of those “hm, wouldn’t it be fun to do X, but flip the genders?” Yeah, you’re cute, Past Me. Past Me did not know Hero and Heroine when she came up with that scene idea, and she certainly didn’t know that the nameless jeweler in the last couple of chapters was going to get elbowed out of the way by an actual character, who knows other characters. She didn’t take into account that said characters will be talking to other characters, which means that Hero and Heroine are not exactly as alone as she thought they were going to be. Keeping all of that in mind goes a long, long way towards banishing the characters blinking at me from a blank white background.

Kicking Character X out of the previous scene did, in fact, turn out to be exactly what the scene needed to come alive, and now has me awash in a sea of eighteenth century underwear,  lots of virtual old-timey window shopping, fully aware now, that the walls do have ears. I get a shiver when I remember that, and it reminds me that this kind of thing can’t be manufactured. It will, however, show up if I do, and so, I’m here. Well, there. Back to 1784 I go.

 

 

Sticky Scenes

annabowling 1 Comment

Last night, I stayed up until 3AM, working on a scene for Her Last First Kiss. This is a second draft, not a first draft, but it’s still discovery, and I think I’m still discovering, especially with one particular scene. This is the same scene where the nameless clerk apparently didn’t come back from break, and sent an actual character in his stead. I am fine with that. What I’m not fine with is when I get into the middle of a scene, where I (think I) know what’s happening, who says what, to whom, who does what, when and where, coasting along, and then…nothing.

All the pertinent players suddenly stand on a blank stage and blink at me. Uh, guys, what’s going on here? They only blink more. They were hoping I knew. I’m the writer, after all. Well, yes, I am, but it’s their story. Especially those two. Hero and Heroine. You know who you are. I ordered sexual tension. Who has the sexual tension? Why are you just standing there? In case you haven’t guessed, I really, really, really hate when this happens. Like super hate. I know this story. I love this story. I have already written this story, which is why we call this a second draft, so why, for the love of pregnant hamsters on roller skates, are we doing the blinking on a blank stage thing?

Not that blank stages are inherently evil. I love A Chorus Line. The stage show, that is, not the movie. The movie breaks the conceit of the show, and, if they’re going to do that, why not tell a completely different story, because that’s basically what we’ve got. For A Chorus Line, that is, not Her Last First Kiss. Even the most lavishly designed set starts as a blank stage, and I do know what the jeweler’s shop looks like, who my people are, and what they need to be doing there.

This time, though, it felt…crowded. Heroine has a lot going on in her head. She’s still mad at Hero, but there he is, alongside Character X, whom she also does not really want to see right now, but she doesn’t get a choice on that. She’s also faced with the fact that, even though Hero is annoying the crap out of her, he does clean up rather well (she’ll want to put a sticky note on that for later) and she wants to get her errands done, go the heck home, and put her feet up with a book of Russian fairy tales and a cup of tea (I would not mind that, myself, actually) but nooooo. We are only a smidge past the 25% mark, so of course it is time to turn the thumbscrews.

Which is why flat and lukewarm is not what we’re going for here. I slapped it on the page anyway. I’ll show it to N tomorrow (Tuesday got pushed to Thursday this week, due to a sinus headache and accompanying drainage; mine, not N’s) and she will help me sift for nuggets. When I can’t write the actual scene, a thing I’ve been teaching myself to do is to write about it. That’s the pen and paper version of talking things out. I can do the talking things out version with N tomorrow, so I know the solution is on its way, and I can start looking at the next scene, which is when the tension that gets planted in this scene (or should be planted in this scene) bursts into full bloom, Hero and Heroine are alone together but for servants who don’t count in this context (and who are more into each other, anyway, so not much of a help at the moment. Thanks, guys. :slow clap:)

I employed my BFF, caffeine, kept butt in chair, and booted Character X out of the scene, in an incredibly unsubtle “I’m going to leave now, bye” exit, that is not quite “pursued by a bear,” but I’m starting to think the bear wouldn’t hurt. Also, Character X would scream like a little girl at the sight of a bear, but we’re in eighteenth century London, so bears are not exactly plentiful, especially not in a fancy rich person jewelry store. This will not go down on record as my smoothest transition ever, and I am counting on N to have suggestions on how to de-obvious Character X’s departure, but, once I got Character X out of the way, Hero and Heroine at least started talking to each other, and we did get incidental physical contact, so I am going to count that as  a mark in the positive column.

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Recalibration Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Even if this were not Friday, you would have been hearing from me anyway, because Anty is still recalibrating from the last couple of days. For those of you who are new here (first of all, hello) hot weather makes Anty sick, and we had two very hot days in a row. Those were yesterday and the day before. Those days were not fun. Then we had a big storm last night, and now the weather is better, but Anty still needs some time to get back into fighting trim. That is an old-timey nautical word that means ready for battle. Or, in Anty’s case, writing, because she kind of needs her brain for that.

In case you were wondering, I do not like hot weather either, since I have a built-in, full -length fur coat, but it is okay. I know where to go to be cool. The hallway floor outside Anty and Uncle’s bedroom is the best for this, because there is linoleum on the floor and there are no windows, so it is cooler and darker than anywhere else. This is what got me the nickname, Speedbump.  It is not my fault that the humans who built this house in 1890 put the hallway where the humans would have to go through it to get to the good bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchen. It is also where the china cabinet and linen cabinet are (actually, they are the same cabinet, china on top and linen on bottom; if you need dishes or towels/sheets, that is where they all are.) As you can imagine, the humans want to be there rather a lot, but I was there first.

Speaking of first, before I talk about anything else, I have to talk about where you can find Anty’s writing on the interwebs, apart from here, which you already know, because you are reading this now. As always, Anty was at Buried Under Romance on Saturday, and this time, she talked about a conversation she had with my Mama (Anty gave Mama a lot of books for Mama’s birthday; Mama had a very happy birthday) about things that make readers not want to read about characters anymore. That post is here, and its link on the main page looks like this:

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Even though it is hard for Anty to get enough brain, on very hot days, to write, she can still read (especially when parked in front of a fan, with an ice pack) and, this week, she made some progress. Her Goodreads challenge is here, and, this week, it looks like this:

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This week, Anty read:

Road to Riverdale, by Mark Waid, Chip Zdarsky, Adam Hughes, Marguerite Bennett, Fiona Staples (Illustrations) (graphic novel, YA)

and

Follow the Heart, by Anita Mills (historical romance)

This puts Anty only two books behind her schedule, and now it is the weekend, and temperate weather, so signs point to yes for Anty getting back on track. Anty likes books by Anita Mills very, very much, and there are several that Anty has not yet read, as well as many books by Miss Anita that Anty has already read and would like to read again. Not all of them came with us during the Big Move (by accident) so she still needs to fill in some blanks in her collection. Go for it, Anty. I believe in you. Anty is sad that Miss Anita does not appear to be writing at present, but there has been talk that Miss Anita is now involved in animal rescue, so we cannot be angry at her for that. Rescue is how my family and I found each other, so putting pets and families together is still happily ever after in my book. Pun intended.

Okay, I think that is it for Anty on the interweb this week. This week, she mostly wrote on Her Last First Kiss, and a funny thing happened. Not funny ha-ha, because this is not that kind of a book. Funny as in interesting. Anty’s friend, Critique Partner Vicki, asked Anty if Anty’s secondary characters ever changed on her and did something she did not intend for them to do, which made them a different person than she planned. Anty’s answer to that was yes, because that is what happened this week for her.

Without giving too much away (Anty has talked to me about that) Anty wrote a scene that took place in an old-timey jewelry store (Her Last First Kiss is an old-timey story, so everything in it is old-timey.) The clerk was meant to be only a clerk. All he had to do was take out the thing the humans had come to buy, get the human paying for it to sign for it (handing over actual money on the spot would be too lower-class; this is the old-timey equivalent of running the credit card) and then he could go away because the story did not need him anymore. That is not what happened.

Instead, Mr. Solomon showed up. Anty did not plan him; he came in all on his own. Anty says he is a closer, and a master of the upsell. Miss N says he is also a bit of a philosopher, really smart, and she kind of loves him.  Anty kind of does, too. I think he sounds like a cat person. Unless Anty specifically says he does not, I am going to imagine he has cats.

While the nameless clerk who only had to complete the transaction could fill the role, having Mr. Solomon be an actual person cranks up the stakes. Hero’s best friend has to buy something in this scene, that will get him in big trouble later in the story. Hero’s best friend is also rather easily influenced. Put him in with a really good salesman, from Hero’s POV, and we can see the future train wreck (metaphorical train wreck; this story takes place before trains were invented) play out in Hero’s imagination.

Anty says enough of that from me, so I guess that is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

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Until next week…

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Mapping the Wilderness

annabowling 4 Comments

Technically, I am dressed. Technically, I am wearing makeup. Technically, I have a new daily pages notebook, but I think this one is actually for some other purpose. My brain works like that, so I am not surprised.

Last night, I finished reading Follow the Heart, by Anita Mills, a historical romance set in England, New York, and Canada, during the French and Indian War. Technically, I have my third book hangover in the last few weeks. This is not entirely a bad thing, but it does leave me with the “crap, what do I read now?” part of the book hangover, that makes finding a new book, which I may very well love as much or even more than the book that haunts my storybrain, all that much harder. This is where making a reading list can come in handy, and, knowing me, I really should have one of those. At present, I do not.

This surprises me. I do extremely well with lists, and, since I do have a goal of reading more historical romance, especially eighteenth century historical romance, and specifically the kind of historical romance that does give me a book hangover, from characterization, author voice, etc, having a list would be a huge help, but I don’t have one right now. Part of me still wants to go on instinct/intuition on this one, or maybe I haven’t found the right organizational system yet. I don’t know if I can say that’s anything like falling in love with a gorgeous notebook, deciding it will be the perfect thing to succeed my current morning pages book, getting it home at last, and then my brain won’t quit going back to the two other notebooks I also looked at on that same trip.

The other notebooks had alternating designs on their page spreads, whether two or four variations, and this one (pictured above) has the same pages throughout. Gorgeous, but I’m exactly two weeks away from finishing the notebook I’ve been decorating myself, as it came with plain lined pages. I’ve found I do like the process of customizing the pages, but, if I put decorative tape on the same part of every page, then that adds bulk to that part of the page only, and the middles of the pages sort of cave in. That feels weird when I handle the book, and I don’t need that in my morning pages. Good experiment, glad I did it, but it doesn’t provide the same experience I want in this practice.

What I want in a morning pages book, is a book I can open, see the images already there, and pour out whatever has bubbled to the surface of my brain between waking and caffeine. Such books are out there, even though they may be buried in a sea of books with plain lined pages, and, thankfully, the hunt is part of the fun. It’s sort of like that when I have a focus for my reading, as I do now. That focus for reading is very similar to the focus for writing. Where there is focus, there is organization, and where there is organization, there is, oddly enough, liberty. When I know where the boundaries lie, I can go nuts within those boundaries.

This is one of the reasons I’m excited to greet a new week of writing historical romance. All I have to do is set my story before living memory (anybody here born before 1784? Anybody? Anybody? Bueller? No? Nobody? Going once, going twice…okay, cool. Before living memory, I’ve got.) and ensure that it has an optimistic and emotionally satisfying ending (aka Happily Ever After, or HEA, which, :consults outline and double checks against first draft: Yep, got that, too.) and I am good. I can do anything. An-y-thing.

Pretty exciting, that, and it definitely applies to Her Last First Kiss. This is one of those books that found me, while I was wandering about the metaphorical woods at night, oven mitts on my hands and buckets on my feet, in search of something that could be quickly written and marketable. Yeah, that’s not how things turned out. I wanted Hero to be somebody else entirely, but, thankfully, he didn’t listen to me, and now I have Hero. Heroine, too, looked at my plans for her, snort-laughed, and marched off in her own direction. The two of them found their own way to meet, and, by this time, I have learned that when the characters start mapping their own way through the wilderness, the most logical thing for me to do is to follow them.

Which leads me to today. The scene I’ll be writing was not in the original outline, and it was not in the original draft, but it roared to the surface during last week’s critique session, and has been poking me all through the weekend, when my brain was required for other things. Silly brain. don’t you know by now that the characters are going to make themselves known when and where they will? Today, instead of mucking my way through my imaginary friends sitting around a table and talking, I get to feel Hero’s throat go dry when Heroine shows up at the worst possible place, at the worst possible time, feel the mad flutter of her pulse, because this isn’t any easier for her than it is for him. At this point, it’s nononononononono, they do not want to be around each other, because if they felt the things they might be feeling, this is going to cause big trouble, not only for them, but for a mutual friend caught in the middle, who has no idea they are in the middle, and…:happy sigh: Yeah, I live for this stuff.

Reading the sort of historical romance that I like to write is helpful, even if not always easy, but story in, story out, is usually a good way to go. At some point, after I have my pages for the day written (or on a break in the middle) I’ll pet the spines of my TBR shelf and the still-boxed books from my friend’s visit, and something will come to the fore. If I show up, the books will, too. That’s my story. Pun intended.

 

In The Wee, Small Hours of the Morning

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This past weekend, we saw the removal of old light fixtures and refrigerator, the installment of new versions, other maintenance on our family abode, and welcomed friends-who-are-family from out of state (with juvenile canine, which was a huge plus) so this, again, was not the most writerly weekend, in terms of productivity. Since the only way to get these books written and on their way to readers, is to actually write/revise/submit/publish them, that means butt in chair and fingers on keyboard.

Normally, I like to write in the morning. I am a morning person. Eyes open, feet on floor, caffeine, breakfast, personal maintenance, and let’s go. This doesn’t always work out, in practice. Our family includes two other adults, and one feline, all who come complete with their own needs, schedules, preferences, and habits. All of us have to occupy the same space, often at the same time, so, often, there needs to be a plan B.

This Monday, I shot N a quick email, asking if we could look at some alternative schedules for the week. We’d agreed, last week, to up our goals to two scenes each for critique, and I was having issues with getting one up to snuff. Could we meet later in the week, maybe? Possibly meet twice, so we’d both have time to get the second scene ready? As it turned out, that was not viable, so we agreed on one scene, regular meeting time.

Ulp. This meant burning some midnight oil. In the critique group I’d attended for double digit years, back in the old country, I was known as the only person who had something to read every single time, no matter what. It wasn’t always on the same WIP, and it wasn’t always top of the line, but it always was. My current critique partnership is smaller, only myself and N, but I want to hold on to that title, so there would be pages, by any means necessary.

In this case, any means necessary meant that my butt remained in the chair until three in the morning. The scene wasn’t complete-complete, but I did get it to the point where I could blend it with the one that came after, and, I hoped, eliminate the need for a filler scene I didn’t want to bumble my way through. This is what happens on a second draft for me; dialogue from Scene C really belongs in Scene B, and it should come from Character Y instead of Character X, so that means Scene D is not going to work anymore, and we, instead, get Scene D.2. The jeweler who didn’t even have a name in the original draft of the scene is nowhere to be found, but that’s because Character Z showed up, doing the nameless jeweler’s job, and I kind of want to see him again.

There’s something different about writing in the wee small hours, when the rest of the two-legs in the house are sound asleep. Skye seems to approve of me burning the midnight oil. No choices needed over which human she wants to shadow, as the others are abed, and I am the only one doing interesting things. If I’m listening to quieter music as I work, I can take out my earbud (desktop earbuds are now singular earbud; will fix that soon) and we can listen together, without waking the house.

When I gave N this week’s pages, I told her most of them were written in the middle of the night. She said I should keep it up, as it seems to be working. Huh wuh? I’d worked on last week’s pages in the wee, small hours as well, which I had forgotten, or at least pushed away from conscious thought. N may be on to something. If the middle of the night is where I can get more writing time, then I want to take it. This may be one of the things I find out while doing the left foot, right foot thing through this whole writing process journey.

Like my mother used to tell me, “the more you do, the more you’ll want to do.” Since I was a kid when she told me that, of course I thought she was full of, um, stuff, and merely wanted a few minutes of peace (which, to be fair, she probably did,) but, as an adult, I am more inclined to believe she is right. The creative muscle, like any other muscle, gets stronger with exercise. The more times I can write, the more I can write, and then I get to jabber about fun things like book releases and cover reveals and all that good stuff.

First, though, comes the less glamorous part. First comes the late nights of squinting at the screen, refilling my travel mug full of ice water, and using the walk to the cat food dish as my chance to figure out what would happen if I moved this dialogue from one scene to another, and turned one of the extras into a supporting player.

Missed (Fictional) Connections

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I am a planner. I need to know where I am going, and how to get there, or I will spend an inordinate amount of time circling the metaphorical roundabout, looking for the on-ramp, until I run out of gas and abandon the car entirely and head off on foot. From there, I will probably wander the moors, my lantern held aloft in the whipping wind. In the distance, a wolf howls. In short, this never leads to anything good.

Especially not in the whole area of a sustainable writing career. Which means time to plan. Conventional wisdom, right now, at least as it applies to historical romance, is that the best chances of success (as in financial/sales/building reader loyalty) are with connected books; at least three books in the same story world, preferably five. The most marketable setting right now seems to be Regency England (not my cup of tea) followed by Victorian England (same; I suspect I was born without the nineteenth century gene) and :drumroll please: Georgian England. Georgian England, I can do.  Since I’ve already set my focus, for the time being, on eighteenth century romance, this gives me a place to start, and a foundation on which I can build.

My natural bent, and still my preference, after all these years, is still my first love, the standalone romance. One pair of lovers, one story, one HEA, wave them off into the sunset and then on to something else entirely. Basically, “Well, medieval France was nice :dust palms: I’m thinking…:drums fingers: Gilded Age New York next, and maybe pirates after that. Who’s with me?” That last bit might be best read in David Tennant’s Tenth Doctor voice. Go back and read it in that voice if you’d like. I’ll wait.

I also have a strong preference for selling books over not selling books, so this means it is an opportunity to learn new skills. Last night, I sat in my uncharacteristically quiet office, the window open, no music playing, only the sound of the rain on the street outside, and looked over some options. While I browsed blog archives by other, more successful, historical romance writers, I also poked around my private Pinterest boards regarding projects currently on the back burner. I opened the board I’d kept for my Regency crash-and-burn, and de-Regencied the whole thing in one go. Wiped out every single pin that pegged this story as taking place in that particular era, no exceptions, and, immediately, I felt…relief. Now, what about reimagining this story as a Georgian? Possibilities there. I think it could work. I’d have to move some things around, but the hero and heroine wouldn’t have too drastic changes, and their love story stays the same.

Which got me to thinking about other orphaned manuscripts, set aside at various stages. Would it be possible to take the most viable of those orphans and stick them in the same story world? Now that I’ve accidentally found out how to include pictures in Scapple, I can throw my various people on the same page, along with a bunch of things that inspire me in a more general sense, and start making connections.

This is new for me. Melva Michaelean and I have planned out two more books in the same world as Chasing Prints Charming, but this is the first time I’ll have taken on something like this on my own. It’s an adjustment, and a challenge. Can I make things work together? How are the characters going to fit together, when they’ve been in their own corners up until now? The only answer I have at present is that I will soon find out, and that I will likely surprise myself on more than one level. Thinking in terms of “and,” not “or” is a big help here. I can still write my standalone stories, and I am fully aware that those may be a tougher sell, or present a smaller return than linked books. I am fine with that. It’s a good balance.

The next step here is creating that world. Part of me thinks this could be fun and the other part already has a headache.  To bring this back full circle, I am a planner. I want to know what I’m doing while I figure out what I’m doing, and, at the same time, I want some of the connections to make themselves. That’s probably part of the whole flinging everybody on the same electronic whiteboard process. I already know I’m going to have more than one artistically inclined character, and probably more than one of the gents will wear or have worn regimentals at one time, but those are places where connections can start to form. Where they go from there, remains to be seen.

Last night, while poking around my desk, I found the bunch of index cards, pictured above, with chapter headings written on the top line of each card. I have no idea what project these were meant for, but rather fortuitous that they surfaced when they did. Maybe it’s a sign. What do you think?

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