possibly pointless blabbering

Time, Place, and Billy Joel

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‎If you are not doing what you love, you are wasting your time.
– Billy Joel

Welp, ten days until Christmas, and I am nowhere near ready.  This surprises me. Christmas has been my favorite holiday since I was but a wee sprog, even more as an adult than as a kid, and, normally, I am in a constant Christmas frenzy from the moment I get up from Thanksgiving dinner.  This year, well, it’s snuck up on me. I’m not sure how that happened.

I’m not sure, for that matter, if it matters how it happened. Fact is that it did, I have ten days until The Day and all I can do is make the best out of what i have. Today’s quote is from Billy Joel, one of my all time favorite musicians, and I’m going to count him as a favorite writer as well, because “Scenes From an Italian Restaurant” is a whole story of everyday genius, and there’s “Captain Jack” and he managed to evoke emotion in “We Didn’t Start The Fire,” which is comprised entirely of name dropping 20th century names, events and places. So yes, one of my favorite writers right there, as writers come in all flavors.

One of the reasons I love Billy Joel’s writing (and music) is that it is intrinsically tied to his voice. First few notes of “Piano Man,” and you’re there, in the bar, breathing the stale smoke and watching the regular crowd shuffle in and do their thing, again and again, day after day, while simultaneously inside the piano player who knows this can’t be his end point. It has to be only a stop along the way. (Pause here a moment to appreciate the storytelling mastery of “Stop in Nevada.“)  It’s a very specific place, and  yet a very universal feeling, and I think that’s why it resonates as much as it does with me.

I’m all about the emotional connection, which is probably a good thing since I write romance, and since I write historical romance, the connection to a time and place is also important. There’s a world of difference between Georgian England and modern day NY, but the same desire, to be known and accepted for the person one already is, that’s timeless. So, all in all, I’m in the right genre, and that’s a good thing to know.

This past Saturday, I sat in a room full of other romance writers and listened to the fabulous Marie Lark share her method of plotting via character motivation (which also works for pantsers. I think I’m somewhere in the middle, but not doing labels at this time.)  Where I’d come into the meeting wondering if I wasn’t off the mark with something regarding the new historical that I oh so greatly love but still didn’t quite grasp yet, by the time we were only a few minutes into the workshop, my characters, once reticent, were blabbering at me faster than I could write.

One of the things I found I tended to do during my wandering around in the woods years was focus so much on the plot that the characters faded. That’s not what I love. What I love is the characters driving the whole story, their needs and wants (especially when the needs and wants are two different things) taking me where we all need to go. This workshop was a great reminder of that, and exactly on time.

Which will be the same with my favorite season of the year. Play some Christmas music. Play some Billy. Write some story. Bake some cookies. Let the lights shine. Prepare the traditional Christmas zombie hand and dangle an ornament from its fingers. My mother used to say, “the more you do, the more you’ll want to do,” and she’s right. The Monday blog post is already up on Monday, I baked brownies, and story things are going to happen. Tree is decorated, gifts are in their process of being created and distributed, and far better to embrace the season with ten days left to The Day than turn Grinchy and let it slip by me completely. Besides, in our family, the twelve days of Christmas start on the 25th, so adding that all in, I’ve got oodles of time. Now where did I put those candy canes?

 

Every Keyboard Tells a Story

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i1035 FW1.1

That’s the keyboard on my actual laptop right there.  Note the missing H key, multiple keys where the markings were rubbed off, fingernail marks carved into the key that used to say “N.” We won’t discuss things periodically cleaned out from in between the actual keys, or things spilled on them and hastily wiped away, usually accompanied by fervent prayer.

This keyboard (and the laptop it’s attached to) has seen three different states, two different homes, been my companion through three distinct phases of my life (before, during and after the bottom dropped out of my world and I went from writer to caregiver to last family member standing to writer once again.) It’s been dropped, fallen from improvised “desks” made from overturned wastebaskets, balanced on knees sweating in summer heat or swaddled in hand-knit afghans (or my special snoflake fleece blankey nobody else is allowed to touch) and seen a plethora of libraries and coffee shops.

It’s seen the starts of novels, completion of a few, fiery deaths of others, while still others slipped into quiet comas. Some of those will come back, some will sail off into the sunset without me, and I am okay with all of that.  Yet more stories are still to come, and I am looking forward to meeting them all. How many more get to be on this particular keyboard or laptop, I’m not sure, but I’m looking forward to the adventure.

There have been games played on this computer; three different iterations of The Sims franchise, four if we count the Sims 4 demo, and a couple of forays into Second Life. Movies watched, countless YouTube videos, episodes of favorite TV shows, pictures composed and edited. New friends met, final farewells said, willingly or not, when certain chapters closed. New hellos yet to say to what’s still ahead of me.

It’s been a wild ride these last few years, and, in a way, it’s fitting to see the machine that saw me through that much coming to the end of its own journey. Not there yet, but the time is coming, and I’m okay with that.  New adventures are ahead.

One of which is blogging. I’ve had this blog for a while, in various incarnations, but I’m still getting the hang of it. While I do blog elsewhere, it’s easier to write about an external topic. Writing about me, about my own writing, that’s a whole different story, pun intended, but I’m here, and I have a brand new keyboard, so we’re good to go, this old friend and me.

i1035 FW1.1

 

So. This is me.

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authorphoto

It’s been rare, in recent years, for me to like any picture of myself. Which is okay; it’s been a funky few years, filled with changes, some welcome, others very much not. Life will do that, and when life does do that, it affects the writing life as well. Maybe I’m not cut out for this, we think. Maybe all of that writing stuff is behind me and taking care of family/doing the day job is where it’s at from here on out. We’ve all had thoughts like that, I’m guessing, from time to time. It makes for a disconnect of sorts, between the worlds in our heads and the world that everybody else can see. Tricky, to say the least. 

This doesn’t apply only to the face in the mirror, but the words on the page as well. It’s a weird place to be, yourself but not yourself. Things should work, but they don’t and it isn’t that the voices in our heads aren’t talking, because they are, but they somehow found a secret language they don’t feel like teaching us for the foreseeable future. It’s the same as looking in the mirror, understanding that yes, that’s what others see, but it’s not us. It’s not real. The problem is, getting the real of the insides of our heads out into the everybody-else-can-see-it world. 

For the physical, this is easy. Take better care of self, learn a new updo, swap out clothes of displeasing colors for those that make us happy. Try a bright/dark lipstick, play with accessories, dress the body you’ve got instead of a past or future one, learn what makes you feel and look good now. For the writing, there’s no foolproof plan. I wish there were. The closest I’ve been able to come is “read, read, read, and write, write, write.” There’s still a part of my brain, equipped with a bullhorn, screaming, “no, you can’t talk about this. You’re not successful enough. You’re not allowed.” This voice needs to be quiet, because this voice is wrong. This voice is looking in the wrong mirror. 

Yesterday, I spent some time with Sue Ann Porter and another friend, in Sue Ann’s beautiful front garden. I needed an author photo for my upcoming From Fanfiction to Fantastic Fiction workshop at Savvy Authors, and I didn’t have one. Well, I did, but it’s old enough to get married or join the military without parental permission. That wasn’t going to do. To quote a sweatshirt marketed at drill sergeants, “sweat dries, blood clots, bones heal; suck it up, buttercup.” I popped my camera in my bag and surveyed the perimeter. 

Fountain, good. I like fountains. Sue Ann and I roped another friend into being my stand-in so I could check the composition, then we took pictures. This picture, I like. This is me. This is a woman who writes romance and writes about romance. This picture can be attached to the work I am doing now, because when I look in this mirror and on these pages, what i see fits. 

 

 

Current Notebooks (general edition)

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general use notebooks

I use a lot of notebooks. A lot. That’s not counting sticky notes or legal pads. Most of the time, I don’t know how many I have in active use as some go through resting periods between uses, but here’s a peek at the current bunch of notebooks for everyday use.

The pink book, with gridded paper, is by Markings, my all purpose notebook, which lives in my purse and gets pretty much everything. Freewriting to get my brain started/cleared in the morning, to-do lists, notes to self and snippets of story to transcribe later. Since everything goes in there, I use colored pens, highlighters and bullet points to keep different subjects separate. There’s a pocket in the back that holds reciepts, interesting ephemera I find in the wild and sticky notes.

“To Blossom You Must Grow” book is by GreenDesignWorks, has white lined paper (I prefer cream, but I love the cover art.) This is dedicated to a fpurely for play writing project and area of study. Every writing session gets a different color of ink, so that even if I forget to date an entry, I can figure it out.

Kraft Moleskine also has gridded paper, and is my overflow book, in case I don’t want to carry the bigger book with me. I definitely plan to try a gridded hardcover Moleskine at some point, but I like the cahier format very much. The cover is only plain because I haven’t altered it yet.

Small green planner is by PaperBlanks, which I like a lot more than I thought I would. I’m still getting the hang of using this particular planner but I do want to try a PaperBlanks notebook in the near future.

Small kraft Moleskine with altered cover is theoretically my pocket notebook, though lately I’ve found the smaller size to feel too cramped. It has lined pages, and serves the same purpose as my larger kraft Moleskine, but on a smaller level.

These books are the workhorses, the ones that catch my brain droppings and keep me company in line, at the laundromat, waiting for friends etc. I’ve found that the more I use notebooks, the more I want to write, period. Maybe there’s something elemental in the touch of pen to paper, but it connects my brain to the page, and I count that a good thing.

The Moment and The Month That Was: May 2014

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Another month, another adventure begun, so let’s review the Month that was May, 2014:

Writing: 

Yesterday, while copying some information about the current ms into a new notebook (notebooky post coming soon) I had a Moment about the dreaded sticky part of the book that seemed like I’d need to train poodles to jump through hoops of fire to make a certain plot point make sense, and then make those same poodles balance teacups on their noses while dressed in period costume to bring a satisfactory resolution. 

Then, Micron (yes, the kind of pen is important, but pen post coming soon as well) poised over magenta line on white page, I had the Moment. What if I did B instead of A? Well, duh. That…might…work. In fact, it would give the poor (figurative) poodles a break, increase the stakes and mean I didn’t have to write the drudgey parts to explain stuff because stuff would already make sense. Well allrighty, then. Several pages of Micron-ed notes later, I left the coffee house with a springier step and I’m excited about going through the existing ms and tidying my loose ends. This will require some story surgery, yes, but it fixes what had put me off this ms when I made my first pass on it, years ago. Commence work on Pinterest board (still puny, but growing) and let’s do this thing. I’m very happy to have found the right groove for Ember and Gareth, two characters who have been more than patient with me…at least so far.

May was a pretty good month over here. I’ve started hosting Saturday discussions at the Buried Under Romance blog, which is huge fun, and May sweeps meant lots of shippy moments on TV, to blabber about at Heroes and Heartbreakers. Links below: 

Heroes and Heartbreakers: 

Buried Under Romance:

Reading:

I’ve been lazy about keeping track of reading, which I need to remedy, but I’m thrilled to have discovered Alison DeLaine‘s  historicals, starting with A Gentleman ‘Til Midnight, and am re-listening to Juliet, Naked, by Nick Hornby. Third time listening to the audiobook, and I’ve read the paper copy at least twice. I don’t think it’s possible to reexperience a favorite book too many times. 

Watching: 

This was the month I finally gave in and started watching Mad Men. I’d resisted, because, basically, my dad had Don Draper’s job in that era, but boy is it brilliant, and boy is it gorgeous, so there will likely be more blabbering about that soon. 

Also endeavoring to rewatch How I Met Your Mother from start to 9×22, because the finale does not count. 

Okay, June, bring it on. 

 

 

Almost Like Being There

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Time for me to add the “Not at RT” tag to my entries, because it’s that time of year again, Romantic Times Book Reviews’ annual conference.  When I first started this post, I began to blog about not being at RWA Nationals, but then remembered that’s in July, so I was missing out on something else entirely.  I am going to take this as a sign that my head is in the books, and thus other things are going to slip out through the cracks.

The conference hangover is still strong from NECRWA, and my tea is from my lovely gift basket, its gorgeous peacock themed box now in its place of honor in my office. I’m working on two historicals at the moment, and some only-for-fun writing that serves no purpose but to make me happy on the side. Today, I have the apartment to myself, and am taking advantage of some excellent advice from the very talented K.A. Mitchell. In her presentation to CRRWA a few months back, she gave two gems: open the file, and change your seat. Maybe not in that particular order, but they work. I’m not stuck today, but got the urge to change my seat anyway, so am now seated at the kitchen counter. I don’t write at the counter much, but it’s a beautifully overcast day, the window that gives me a view of our neighbor’s window is open enough to catch a breeze and I’ll have a front row seat to the rain if we get any. There’s a thirty percent chance.

I’d love to be at RT, but this wasn’t my year. Some other year will be, and it will be the right one. I’m not feeling deprived this year, or that I’m missing out, which is new, but again, still have conference hangover, drinking conference tea, talking to conference friends, and my real life hero and I spent the weekend at the local Tulip Festival, so my people-meter is pleasantly full. Being around big groups of people, especially those who love what I love, energizes me and gives me a boost. That’s two boosts in two weekends, so time to spend some of that energy by writing.

I won’t be at RWA’s national conference, either. This year, Bertrice Small is getting a lifetime achievement award there, and, since she’s the reason I became a romance writer in the first place, if i could only attend one National conference in my life, that would be the one I’d pick. I knew, under my parents’ guest room brass bed, with my flashlight and my stolen-from-Mom’s-nightstand copy of The Kadin, that I’d found what I wanted to read and write for the rest of my life, so of course I’d love to be there to cheer with all the other fans, and witness a retrospective of a stellar career. I would love to see her son, Tom, accept the award on her behalf, charming, articulate and full of pride and love for his mother. I’d love to hang out with other Small fans and jabber about their favorite books of hers, un-favorite books of hers, and her influence on individual careers and the industry as a whole.

Thanks to the internet, I can peep along and read others’ experiences, see what they see, and if I want to talk favorite books or authors, there’s no end to the opportunities for that, either singly or in groups. For lovers of all forms of historical romance, I’ll slip in a plug for my own Facebook group, The Lion and Thistle. Thanks to all the people who live in my head, there are stories yet to write, to keep me plenty busy while the conference and the rest of life are going on, so that, no, I do not feel deprived at all this year. That’s new, and I think I like it.

 

NECRWA Recap, Part Two: The Workshops

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This year, I attended six and a half workshops, moderated two, have a batch of handouts to preserve in binders and lots of useful tools to add to my writerly toolbox. 

Friday: 

Though Melva and I arrived at the conference mere minutes too late to attend Katy Regnery‘s workshop on boutique and small publishing, we were right on time for T.L. Costa’s “An Agent Wants to See Pages, Now What?”  Ms. Costa’s infectious energy whisked us through the essentials of polishing manuscripts, use of active voice and making white space our friend. She put us to work with a Cards Against Humanity-like exercise, randomly pairing unique characters and settings. to come up with openings to hook agents, editors and readers. My assignment was “seventy-six year old man with a broken hip” and “p*rn convention.”  My exercise may have included the phrase “lifetime achievement award.” 

Next up was my first ever time moderating a workshop in person (I’d been online workshop chair during my tenure at Charter Oak Romance Writers) I’d already heard Leigh Duncan’s Book It, Dan-O on a recording of last year’s national conference, and found it extremely helpful. I’m still a paper gal at  heart, so learning how to use a good old fashioned binder to organize my research and plotting was right up my alley. Leigh couldn’t have been more gracious, or put me more at ease. To access Leigh’s handouts at her website, click link above. I’m going to have to try some of these for my own notebooks. My only disappointment was that Leigh’s workshop was opposite Cathryn Parry‘s Rediscovering the Joys Of Writing, which I also heard on last year’s National recording. I have handwritten notes aplenty from my multiple listenings, and would love to catch Cathryn present it in person in the future. 

Saturday: 

Another favorite workshop started off the day, Patricia Grasso’s Plotting With Panache. I always get something new out of this workshop, which applies the estimable Ms. Grasso’s plotting techniques to two classic movies: Jaws and Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Bonus points for handwritten handouts, including a blank plotting chart to try out this method on our own. I was thrilled to moderate this one, as Ms. Grasso has long been a favorite, and her workshops are not to be missed. Definitely need to get current on her backlist, as this workshop reminded me how much I enjoy her voice. 

My half workshop was the Ann DeFee half of “From Monty Python to Michelangelo,” by Linda Cardillo and Ann DeFee, but Melva proved her friendship by snagging me handouts for the whole thing. Though my pitch session didn’t allow me to hear Linda Cardillo’s approach, Ms. DeFee’s voice came through loud and clear as she gave helpful pointers for keeping comedy true to the authorial voice. Bonus points to both presenters for dressing as a team, in gorgeous jackets, identical in design and complementary in color. Now that’s commitment to team teaching. 

Terri Brisbin taught us how to be happy hookers…in the writing sense, that is. Standing room only for this one, though I did snag a seat when another attendee left for a pitch session, and Terri promised to send pdf files of all handouts to any who didn’t get the paper version. Along with Terri’s handouts on different plotting techniques and how to hook readers, she also gave us Deborah Hale’s adaptation of The Hero’s Journey to romance specific writing, titled The Lover’s Journey. There’s another workshop I’d love to attend, if Ms. Hale were to present it. I have a few Brisbins moving up the ladder on my TBR pile as well. 

Barbara Wallace spoke on Busting Through Writer’s Block, detailing different sorts of blocks, brainstorming ways around them, and would you believe there’s even a case for neuroscience having a hand in this? Surprisingly (or not,) there is. No easy cures, alas, but this workshop offers some useful tools in getting back in the writing groove, whether the cause is medical, situational or creative. 

Final workshop of the weekend had my ears perked, as former Harlequin Presents powerhouse Sandra Marton spoke on her transition to self-publishing and presented (pun unintended) the pros, cons and cautions of  taking the independent route, as well as some blunt talk about money along the way. In short, with great power comes great responsibility, but oh how sweet freedom can taste. Short-short version, self publishing isn’t for sissies, but can be a viable route for those willing to work hard. 

I wasn’t able to attend all the workshops, alas, so am still looking forward to Devon Ellington‘s workshop on building a series, Madeline Hunter‘s workshop on books that write themselves (wouldn’t that be handy?) and the other intriguing offerings at future events. 

 

 

 

 

NECRWA Recap, Part One

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Back home now from NECRWA 2014, bags unpacked, laundry done, swag photographed (pictures to follow as I find a way to convince my camera and laptop to talk to each other) and mostly sorted, and I am full of tales to tell. Let’s start with the personal experience.

The ride to the conference, with dear friend and traveling buddy,Melva, went  smoothly, without our traditional getting-lost-when-almost there, and the funny feeling of not being encumbered by too many bags proved to be only that I have finally learned how to dress and pack for a conference. Room was comfy, buffet style meals meant that I was able to eat, even with my allergies, and the swag was plentiful.

This was my first year volunteering, and I ended up moderating two workshops, Leigh Duncan‘s Book It, Dan-O, which covers organization and plotting, and Plotting With Panache, by Patricia Grasso. I also had the chance to help set up before breakfast on Saturday, dropping books on chairs, which actually turned out to be fun, and with three of us working at the same time, went fast.

My pitch appointment was with Louise Fury of the Bent Agency. Though she said very lovely things about the sample pages I’d sent in, of my postapocalyptic medieval romance, Ravenwood, she did not ask to see the full ms. She did, however ask if I had anything else, and when I mentioned I am working on a Regency, she asked me to send that when it’s complete. That, I most certainly can do, and Louise was gracious enough to suggest some alternative routes for getting Ravenwood to readers, adding that is is a story she would totally read for pleasure.  So, while it wasn’t the outcome I’d hoped for with that ms, still very encouraging, and we even got to talk makeup for a bit.

Not bad at all, even if my slip did fall off on my way out of the room. Since I was due to moderate Patricia Grasso’s workshop, I picked up my undergarment, stuffed it in my bag and forged ahead. This was not my only mishap of the weekend, as I tore a nail down to the quick when I forgot to let go of the handle when opening my traveling companion’s hatchback as we loaded our luggage on Saturday afternoon. No permanent damage done, but I don’t want to repeat the experience, either.

The conference as a whole, though? Oh yes,  must do this again, and I’m already making plans with friends both old and new for next year. That’s one of the best parts of a conference; people I didn’t know existed on Thursday, by Monday, are now dear friends I couldn’t imagine living without. There’s the chance to introduce friends from my old life in CT to friends from my new life in NY, and finding they mix beautifully. There’s the excited squealing that only comes when two until-then strangers find they have the same all time favorite book and then stay up late into the night, excitedly chattering about the same. There’s checking up on those with whom one shared a pitch session waiting room, and bonding over both getting the same “medievals aren’t selling” line – and vowing to find a home for those books of our  hearts anyway.

Almost forgot (okay, I did, I’m adding this after I hit “publish”) getting the most definitive answer possible to “is Scrivener really for me?” – I won a copy in a basket raffle, courtesy of Jennifer Ackerman Kettell, complete with a copy of her Scrivener Absolute Beginner’s Guide, and an offer of personal tech support. Plus it came in a peacock themed box, with a peacock mug, which alone would have thrilled me, as I am very fond of peacocks.

Next up: the workshops.

 

Camp NaNo in my Rearview Mirror, NECRWA Ahead

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Image

WordPress has stopped reminding me to make my weekly post. Part of me considers that a victory, because I am unique like that. Of course that’s when I actually do blog, go figure. Writing a blog is, at times, harder than writing a book. With a book, I know what story I’m telling, I know where the beginning, middle and end are, and I’m reasonably certain that there are people out there interested in reading it. With a blog, however, there aren’t as many guidelines/conventions. Why should someone take time out of their day to read my babbling? Not quite sure, but plunging ahead anyway.

 

 It’s May, Camp NaNo is now behind me, a new book started, and tomorrow, I head off to NECRWA’s annual conference. I don’t want to count how many years it’s been since I started going, but it’s always an amazing experience. Conferences are like Extrovert Christmas – a chance to see old friends, make new ones, and drink in all the energy of  hundreds of other people who love to do what I love to do. In my case, that’s reading and writing romance.

The free books and swag don’t hurt either, but the big draw for me is the people. It’s a chance to reconnect with former chapter sisters whom I haven’t seen, in some cases, since last year, or before I moved to NY. It’s a chance to hang out with current chapter sisters (maybe brothers, if either of the CRRWA’s gentlemen members are in attendance) and learn from people who are, professionally, where I’d like to be this time next year, or maybe a few years down the line. It’s a time to encourage new writers of romance, who are only starting out on this journey, or  may be new to the genre. It’s a chance to discover kindred souls around the dinner table, over dessert, in the elevator, waiting for a pitch appointment or while wandering the halls because I am liable to get lost at least once. I know me. 

This year, I’m coming off a successful Camp NaNo experience, and two recent Heroes and Heartbreakers posts on two romance authors who have influenced my own work and my love for the genre, Kate Rothwell, and Lynn Kurland. I’m working on a novel I love, and will be pitching Ravenwood, my postapocalyptic medieval romance. I still get nervous, even though I love pitching, but sitting in the holding area, with other writers going through the same mix of nerves and anticipation gives a boost of energy that is more than enough to quell the shakes. 

Saturday night, I’ll drag my exhuastified body home, laden with books and swag, a camera full of pictures (if i remember to take them) and lots of memories. Maybe even a request for a full ms, and possibly a new idea or two. Definitely enough for another entry, with or without WordPress’s reminder.