Make A Decision and Move Forward

December 12, 2018annabowling 2 Comments

Tuesday morning breakfasts with N is always a highlight of my week, and yesterday was doubly so. Yesterday, we got our notebooks out and made a plan to organize our writing for 2019, before it starts. Part of that was kicking around ideas for a second blog, dedicated to planning/bullet journals/related miscellany, and keeping this focused on the journey of the writing life.

Third blog would actually be more accurate, because Melva and I had a long discussion on our Monday night Skype meeting, about what we want our joing author website to look like. What is our combined brand? (Spoiler: “uhhhhh” is not an acceptable answer.) What content do we want the site to have? So far, we are agreed on a bookshelf, with three shelves; Melva books, Anna books, and Melva-and-Anna books. Same with the author bios, and that puts the partnership bio on the top of the to-do list for that one.

Today, after I finish this blog, possibly while I do laundry, I will start getting my notes ready for the first Tuesday in January, where N and I will attack 2019. We both have manuscripts we want to get to The End this year, so we need to plan for after that. I already know the next project Melva and I will tackle, but for my solo historicals (which I am definitely feeling, once again; getting a win will do that for a gal) there are a lot of options. Since I tend to overthink, this is where a logical plan of attack comes in handy. Time to take a step back and get some perspective.

Between now and then, I get to muck around in my imagination, and haul the characters, plots, settings, tropes, etc, that I’ve kept in my writerbrain attic, out into the natural light, and take a good look at what I’ve got. What excites me the most? What would require the most research? What do I still need to connect the dots on before I know what I’m doing? What needs brainstorming? Am I trying to stuff a ten pound cat into a two pound bag, anywhere? (Definitely.) Can two things that aren’t fully fleshed out be combined into one cohesive whole?

Once everything is spread out, we take a good, hard look at it. That’s probably my favorite part of audition weeks on TV talent competitions. Everybody’s good, or they wouldn’t have made it to the week where the judges winnow down the best to the cast of the new season. There’s headshots and notes on performances, and each judge has their own things they look for in a finalist. Is it too much to have three ballroom girls in the top ten? Can the self taught dancer pick up choreography? How does the amazing freestyler do with partner work? I honestly would be thrilled to watch the unedited footage of this part of the process, or be there when it’s decision time.

N has a sign near her desk, that reads “make a decision and move on.” She’s unleashed it a time or two on me, when I get caught in overthinking, and it really does help. Make a decision. Move forward. This or that. Yes or no. Stick in a placeholder and come back to it later, but keep moving. I”ll let you know how it goes. Writer readers, what’s your favorite tip for plannign ahead?

Five

December 10, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

Probably my favorite CRRWA meeting of the entire year (they are all pretty great, though) is the December meeting, where we recognize the achievements of all of our members. “Did not quit writing” is an achievement, as is “started writing for the very first time.” There is recognition for a lot of the hard work that goes into the writing life, especially for those of us who are pursuing it as a career. Get a contract? Yay! Queried, and got a no thanks? Also yay! Published your first book? Yay! Published your twenty-fifth book? Yay! Hired an editor, cover artist, or other professional to help you on the indie publishing journey? Yay! Tehre are lots of other things that matter, and there are milestones to recognize, when reached. This year, one of them was mine.

Meet the five-book water bottle. I’ve wanted one of these babies ever since they first became part of the program. Since I had come into my membership in this chapter with four books under my belt, this goal felt, at the same time, very close, and unattainable. Close, because I came into my membership in this chapter with four titles to my credit, so one more is not that far away. Only, it was, because my life had exploded, and whether one wants to call it writer’s block, or emptiness, or what-have-you, my general connection to writing was, at the time,

There was the time travel I put on the back burner (and is still there) and the Regency I tried to write, but couldn’t connect with, until I admitted I had set it in the wrong period. There was the American Revolution romance I tried oh so hard to write, until I admitted that my hero didn’t want to be on the side of the conflict I had selected for him. I ended up stealing his and his heroine’s (first) names for another project (we are getting to that. There was other stuff, too, that didn’t go anywhere, in terms of getting me to a fifth contracted/published work, but that’s not to say those things didn’t serve any purpose.

Finding out what doesn’t work has value, too, as does taking a risk when that risk feels right. The official story is this: Melva and I were at an NERWA annual conference, and were early for breakfast. We plopped ourselves in a couple of comfy chairs near the breakfast room, so we’d be there when the doors finally opened. We people watched, and talked about how varied romance fiction is, and how those unfamiliar to the genre might think it’s all the same, but look, there’s an inspirational author talking with an author of m/m erotica, and that one writes historical, and that one writes paranormal, and that one writes YA, and that one writes multicultural, and that’s a winner of multiple Rita awards (romance fiction’s Oscar/Hugo/etc) and that person only found out RWA existed yesterday, and, and, and, and….

“What if,” one of us asked, because all great stories begin with “what if?” a writer thought they could attend a couple of workshops and pound out a romance novel real quick, but then found out it wasn’t that easy?” The other one of us glomped on to that. What if they fell in love? With whom, though? Obviously, the worst possible person would have to be the answer. A huge romance fan, someone for whom this genre is, almost literally, life. What would be the worst possible time for tehse two to meet? Originally, we made it at a pitch session, but we tweaked that, and that’s when Chasing Prince Charming was conceived.

At this most recent meeting, I sat next to fellow The Wild Rose Press author, Ginny Frost, and squealed and giggled, and got to wear a sparkly tiara (as did all members present, even the gal at her very first meeting, ever) as the fabulous K.A. Mitchell played MC, and boasted everyone’s accomplishments. I get to play Vanna White and hand out the prizes -everybody gets one- and the whole atmosphere is so encouraging and celebratory that it is like catnip.

There is no special prize for a sixth book, but there is for making a sale, or publishing independently, so my goal for the next year is going to be that, among other things. Book number five is my first contemporary, and my first co-written with Melva Michaelian, and my first book intentionally written as part of a series. We are about at the 25% mark of the next book, Drama King, and are already talking about what we want to write next, after these first three books are done.

We have also talked about what we each want to achieve this coming year, in our solo work. Cozy roantic suspense, and humorous nonfiction for her, historical romance for me. How do we keep all the balls in the air for our solo and joint work, and how do we handle being a debut author, as two bodies with but a single mind. We both have books out that are just our own, and Melva has co-written before, but this new stuff? Totally new territory.

I look forward to figuring it out. This past Saturday, we had fun. We handed out prizes, applauded each other, snacked, and, best of all, wound up talking in various bunches, about writing and reading and all that goes with it, where we are goimg and where we have been, and, maybe most importantly, where we are right now.

I like having a shiny red reminder of what happens when I ride out the urgh, and keep going. Keep trying new things, that, surprise, make the old things even better than they always were. No telling now, what I’ll be posting here next year, but I know, whatever it is, it will be good, or headed in that direction. Writing readers, what acheivements would you like a pom-pom shake for this year? Leave them in the comments, and I can offer virtual cake.

Typing With Stuffed Paws: It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Planning Edition

December 7, 2018December 7, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

Greetings, foolish mortals. Sebastian Thunderpaws Hart-Bowling coming at you with all the stuff on the week that was. I wanted to call this edition “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Sebastian,” but Writer Chick says this blog is about her writing, not my handsome self. Go figure.

Anyway, best to get the compulsories out of the way first, so let’s get to it. As always, Writer Chick babbles on about something, over at Buried Under Romance, every Saturday, and this one is no exception. Last week, she talked about when a reading slump really isn’t one. What’s that all about? Hop on over here, and find out.

This leads directly into our other update, that of Writer Chick’s Goodreads challenge. Getting down to the wire now, and looks like she might actually make it. As of this writing, she has read eighty-six books out of ninety, which puts her at ninety-six percent of the way there. Four more books, three more weeks; will she make it?

Writer’s favorite read this week was a surprise. It was also How I Live Now, by Meg Rosoff.

Writer Chick says the S mug in this week’s book picture is for Skye, but Sebastian also starts with S, so I’m claiming it. Not right now. Right now, it’s full of tea. The box of lights is mostly there to block out the view of what’s behind the box of lights and the mug, but it’s also a sign that we are moving into a different time of year, and that would be Christmas. Writer Chick loves Christmas. I’m okay with it. For all I know, I was a Christmas present (the exact circumstances of me ending up with this bunch are a little fuzzy. Heh. Fuzzy. Classic Sebastian.) and a first Christmas in a new place is definitely important.

None of the decorations are up yet, but there is a tree, and there are ornaments. I have heard it is traditional to gift the family cat with their own presents on Christmas, and I am going to assume that extends to Cats Regent. It better.

I am going to go out on a (Christmas tree) limb here, and assume, also, that Writer Chick will be receiving planner and/or art journal stuff for Christmas. She is definitely going to use the tucked-away week between Christmas and New Year’s, to get her 2019 planning stuff in order. This includes moving essential stuff from the stripey planner, to the big eyes planner, as well as starting a separate planner that is only for writing. Possibly one for her co-written contemporaries with Melva Michaelian, and then another for her solo historical romances. These are the everyday planners, in which she will be planning how she plans the new year.

Blah blah, different sizes, blah blah, aesthetics, blah blah, DIY, etc. Whatever. She went over the specifics, but I wasn’t listening. Long story short, do what works. Even if it looks weird. Maybe especially if it looks weird. There will be more updates on where Writer Chick is, in her ongoing WIPs, as soon as she figures out how to measure that progress, and updating the Coming Soon section would not be a horrible thing, just saying.

So, yeah, that’s basically what’s going on here at Stately Bowling Manor. Waiting on confirmation, but looks like Writer Chick and Other Writer Chick have cleared a milestone in their draft of Drama King, and are already talking about what they want to do for their combined author website (this one is staying right where it is) so there will be updates on that as they come along.

Peace out,

Thankful

November 21, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

Here we are, the day before American Thanksgiving. Stately Bowling Manor is about as ready for the holiday as it’s going to get. This means that we have some form of the traditional foods, a table at which to eat them, and chairs in which to park our backsides, while we eat abovementioned foods, at abovementioned table. This will be a cozy holiday, with myself, Real Life Romance Hero, and, of course, Sebastian.

There’s not a lot of prep left to do, over here, which suits me fine, because, as great as Thanksgiving food is, it’s not the whole point of the day. I am thankful for my family, very much so, though the absence of a real-life fuzzy buddy does pinch. Next year, we hope to have one or two four-legged family members parked beneath the table, ready to take care of any food that may fall and/or be surreptitiously slipped to them. Maybe we’ll station Sebastian nearby, to fill the gap.

This morning, I had my weekly breakfast with N. After the usual getting current on each other’s weeks, we turned our attention to how writing is going for each of us, and where we would like it to go. This year, I am very thankful for the fact that I am going into this holiday season, as a contracted author, once again. Complete honesty, I needed a “win,” and this definitely counts as one. The fact that I get to do it along with Melva, who has been friend and critique partner for coughty-cough years, makes it even better. Today, it means that I get to finalize (for now) a scene for Drama King, that cranks up the stakes, and leads into the next part of the book.

I am thankful that there is a next part of the book to get into, and that this is the second book in the series. I am thankful for the structure that comes not only with writing a series, with a partner, but for the structure that comes with the pre-publication process. This past week, Melva and I finalized the extra scene we needed, and the manuscript is now moving on to the next waypoint on our journey.

As I’m getting my bullet journal/traveler’s notebook ready for next year, I get to set things up for our progress along the road to release for Chasing Prince Charming. I get to set up a notebook to keep things straight with all things related to this collaboration; who’s writing what, and when it’s due, when edits are expected, what they are, and all of that good stuff. This is going to mean choosing and/or making notebook inserts, and accompanying pens, highlighters, and ephemera.

Though I won’t say I won’t be doing any shopping (especially Black Friday) for any of these items, because I have a decently robust collection of such items, I will say that I am immensely thankful for the huge boost this past year has brought me, in my love of all things pen and paper. For those who have been gently (and not so gently) suggesting I blog more about pen and paper, I will say maybe. The more I play with pens and paper, the more notebooks I fill and pens I empty, the more I want to write, and the more fun writing has become. If that means, along the way, that I pause every now and again, to pet a notebook cover, and stare off into the distance, it also means there is stuff going on in my story brain while I do so. I’ll take that.

I am thankful for my RWA family, fellow romance writers of all ilks, who have been supportive and encouraging, from the first day the new gal with the thousand-yard stare slunk into the business meeting and mumbled something about the time travel that was kicking her butt, to now friends, critique partners, and colleagues. I am thankful to be writing romance, because I get to fall in love every single day, and take a million different paths to happily ever after. Now and again, I get monies for it.

I am thankful for the writer friends I don’t get to see every day. Some, I have never seen as anything other than words on the computer screen. Still, we are family. I am thankful for the romance writers, whether or not we have ever spoken in actual conversation, written or verbally, whose books entertained and inspired me, from the day I first stole my mother’s then-new copy of The Kadin, to an overflowing TBR shelf. Those still keep me going, and are a great carrot on my stick.

I am thankful for the mistakes I have made along the way. As my mother often said, broken bones heal stronger. Would I change some of those, if I could? Probably so. Not all of them. Some. Today, after I get this blog posted, I get to have lunch with Real Life Romance Hero, and then I get to sidle into a too-small billiard room, where flirty banter pings off the walls. After that, I get to reward myself with a good cuddle under a warm, fuzzy blanket, with a good book, a cup of tea, and let a part of my brain drift toward tomorrow.

Not only the part of the day that smells like turkey gravy and hot buttered rolls, but the tomorrow that comes after that (okay, and after Black Friday) and means clearing the decks and making a new notebook for Her Last First Kiss, another for my work with Melva, and look toward the year to come. That’s the year when I will be able to measure the time since my most recently published novel, will be counted in months, not years. I am thankful for new chapters that await, on the page, and the writing life.

Also, pie.

Typing With Stuffed Paws: Snow Day Edition

November 16, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

What up. Sebastian Thunderpaws Hart-Bowling coming at you. There is snow on the ground. A lot of it. Writer Chick loves snow. Like really, really loves snow. This is not dampened by the cold she has had all week. Dude isn’t feeling that hot at the moment, but Writer Chick managed to get a load of laundry done. I, of course, am in favor of fresh laundry, as it is warm, and ideal for napping. Those of us who are of the stuffed persuasion can internalize the heat and stay toasty for hours.

As usual, Writer Chick did the blabbity-blab on Buried Under Romance, on Saturday. This time, she talks about saving a good book for a rainy — or snowy — day. Little did she know how appropriate that would be. If you want to read more, it’s here, and this is the picture if you need to find it that way, or appreciate her book and mug photography skills.

Speaking of reading, which is something Writer Chick is very wont to do, we move now to her Goodreads challenge. Writer Chick has been doing a lot of napping, this cold week, but she did make a respectable library haul, and historical romance actually dominates. That’s for another post, though. Right now, she is ninety-one percent of the way to her goal of ninety books, with eighty-two books read. Skye would be impressed. Me, I just report the numbers. Then I nap.

weekend reading and then some

Besides being a sick week, in which Dude proved himself a pretty decent nurse/personal chef, Writer Chick had her first week as a contracted co-writer. This involved a lot of thinking really hard about getting up and going to the computer. Sometimes, she actually made it. These are usually the times when she managed to get the really strong tea. Anyway, the times she did make it to the computer, she talked with Other Writer Chick, and they talked about Stuff.

Some of that Stuff included a scene that the publisher humans would like them to put into the book, where it was only implied before. All I am going to say is that the action of that scene would require turning around any stuffed animals in the room with the human characters. I have not read the scene in question, but it is my understanding that there are not any. Yet another instance of stuffed erasure in contemporary fiction. W are real, we are cuddly, and we will not be ignored. We’d make more noise about it, but, well naps. Some of us have squeakers, though. That floppy zebra in the other room? Squeaks like a new pair of shoes on freshly cleaned linoleum.

Another thing Writer Chick and Other Writer Chick had to talk about, was who they are, as a writer. Singular. Writer Chick writes historical romance on her own, and Other Writer Chick writes contemporary with a strong suspense element, and humor, on her own, and when the two different writers collide, it makes something entirely new. That comes with a lot of new questions.

One of those questions is about their combined author brand. Both of them had put a lot of thought into their individual author brands, condensed into catchy taglines, that let readers know what kinds of stories lie between the covers. Together, though? That’s something new, and they are working on figuring out exactly what that is. They already know they are going to need a joint website, which means they are going to need to pick out colors, motifs, a look that tells readers what they might find from this particular tag team.

That’s where I got to find out what it sounds like when two different writers make the “uhhhhh” sound at the same time. Writer Chick made some notes, and Other Writer Chick made a suggestion that they get their individual brand statements together and see if they can combine the two. We will see how that goes. Writer Chick is going to give this another go once she has full brain back, which should be in time for their weekly Skype session, but that isn’t even their main concern.

That’s kind of evenly split between working on the expanded scene for Chasing Prince Charming, and moving along with Drama King, because they always have to keep looking at the next book, while this one is getting ever closer to publication. There’s also the matter of keeping each other accountable on their different solo projects, because if they can drag each other through one book, they can drag each other through more books.

Maybe drag isn’t the word, but you get the picture. Thankfully, Writer Chick’s penchant for planning and notebooks is super useful when it comes to keeping things like this straight. She will probably have more to say on that. As long as her notebook covers are soft, and the paper is crinkly, I’m good, and, in the end, isn’t that all that really matters?

Oh look, squirrels.

Love Scene Time

November 14, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

For the last few days, my main occupation has been putting sweaters on, and then immediately taking them off again, then falling asleep in unexpected places. This means one ting. Cold season has arrived. Add massive amounts of tea, many bottles of water, and a blanket that comes with me when I move from pillow pile to couch and back again. Not exactly the way I intended to spend the first week after signing a new book contract, but it’ll do.

This morning, I saw this outside the window:

first snow 11/18

Snow has always been, and will always be, my favorite weather, and the fact that, because we live in a complex now, shoveling is not on the agenda. Every car for itself when it comes to clearing off personal vehicles, but I am still counting this as a win. Skies are clear, so the dusting is all we are likely to get for today. For mid-November, I can take that. Since this is also the day when tat first glimmer of brain pierces through the cold fog, I am taking this 9these, as I mean both the snow and the glimmer of brain) as a good sign.

This means climbing back into the writing saddle. Now that contracts are signed, the clock begins ticking. Melva and I now get to figure out how we write a completed love scene, together, and we have a date when said love scene has to be done. I have never co-written a love scene before, so this is going to be a new experience. I have already accepted the fact that this is probably not going to be possible to write with my fingers splayed across my eyes, horror-movie-watching style.

Melva and I have shared a lot over the years, as critique partners, conference roomies, and friends. Put it bluntly, we are both well stocked with blackmail opportunities, but, then again, neither of us could afford said blackmail, and we each know where the bodies are buried, because we helped move them. Writing a love scene together, though? That’s new.

Not that we’re squeamish/prudish. We are both grown women, happily married, and have been reading romance for long enough to, well, know what we’re doing. Granted, my own love scenes have, to date, been of the fade to black, maybe a leetle beyond, variety. Her Last First Kiss is going to require me to follow my hero and heroine into the bedroom, because that’s a part of the character development, and part of the romance. , and not including that part of their story would feel incomplete.

When Melva and I first conceived of (pun very much intended) of the story that would ultimately become Chasing Prince Charming (spoiler: our heroine catches him) we did address the issue of love scenes. Our plan was to cross that bridge when we came to it, and do what came naturally, which we also hoped our characters would ultimately do. Isn’t that the whole idea? We had the option of telling the story in a sweet fashion, without any love scenes whatsoever, but we knew we didn’t want to go in that direction. Meg and Dominic taking the very big step of becoming physically intimate, and what led up to it, were too important to leave out of the story, and, so, love scene time. It’s Meg and Dominic’s first time, true, but it’s also Melva’s and mine.

This is also my first time writing a contemporary love scene, as well as writing with another author. Everybody involved is probably going to learn a new thing or two. Both of us agree that we want the love scene to be exactly that; it’s more about feelings than body parts, and the scene needs to move both the story and the relationship to a new level. Thankfully, since we already have the whole book written and contracted, what we have here is a matter of connecting the dots. That came out more salacious than it was intended, but that’s par for the course when Melva and I write together. There is sometimes unintentional blueness, we are scarily on the same page, and things somehow manage to fall together.

Which is pretty much how things can potentially go in a love scene, the sort where the characters take over, do their own thing, and let us write it down for them. That kind of thing doesn’t feel scary at all. More like business as usual. It also reminds us to keep our brains open, and a notebook on hand (that notebook part may be only me, but when don’t I have a notebook at hand, anyway?) to catch ideas for the couples from subsequent books, because they’re going to need love scenes, too, and this kind of thing is different for every couple, even if they are in the same series.

This also means that I get to start cobbling together a series bible, to keep track of whos where and doing what, mapping out romantic arcs and the like. Since stationery is one of the great loves of my life, a very close second to romance writing, this is also on my list of awesome perks of writer-hood. It will also gibe me topics for a few blog entries, which is, with the current cold-induced brain fog, a very welcome constant.

Writer friends, what’s your best tip for writing love scenes? Reader friends, what makes a good love scene for you? Stationery nerds who are only here for the deskscapes, the turquoise pen is by Jane Davenport.

Writing Lessons From My Art Journal

October 31, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

Happy Halloween, and/or day before National Novel Writing Month, to all who participate. The extrovert in me loves the community of NaNo, and the competitive side of me loves the pounding toward a goal, hell-bent for leather, as my Aunt S used to say, but anxiety is not as thrilled about the pressure, so, for me, doing the slow and steady thing works better, so I will cheer on all who are participating from the sidelines, and keep on going at my own pace..

Once again, we have Monday’s blog on Wednesday, and I am okay with that. Domestic Tornado Season is, hopefully, winding down, fingers crossed. In the meantime, butt in chair, fingers on keyboard and/or pen to paper whenever possible.

Lately, I’ve been using my art journals to destress, and, as usual, they’ve taught me a few things about the writing life. I don’t know how I settled on it, but, in the middle of one of the bigger tornado surges, I took out the nearest art journal to hand, and turned to a fresh page.

First of all, I did not draw anything on these pages. Both pages are stencils, by Jane Davenport, whose art supplies I love, love, love. The notebook cover and insert are both from her collection, as well. No compensation here, just a fan, sharing what works for me.

I’ve tried to start this blog entry many times, and I always get in my own way, so I am going to go ahead and throw whatever is in my head onto the page, which is generally how the best stuff happens, anyway.

Earlier, this week, I grabbed the art journal, pictured above, some face stencils, and a Pitt artist pen, and started throwing stuff down. These stencils have options as to what features I can put, and where. Usually, I start off placing the eyes too high. Moving them around before I actually set down any ink helps, and keeping a small notepad next to my art journal also helps, because working with art stuff is a great way to get my story brain on the back burner, which is when my imaginary friends often do some of their best stuff, while I’m looking at lines and shapes and colors.

Right now, it’s already after 3PM, which means that the ideal posting times have passed for the day, and I could call myself now two entries behind and promise that I’d take care of it tomorrow. I know this is bull, because tomorrow is already booked (no pun intended) and a post written after the ideal posting times is going to get more hits and reach more readers than the post I’m going to write, eh, sometime. This is also the first thing that my recent art journal experience has taught me about writing:

* Put Some Stuff On The Page.

This is important, because, without that, nothing gets done. The idea stays in my head, and, no matter how many people I tell about it, nobody will get the full experience. Including me. As long as the idea stays in my head, it stays perfect, and I can’t fail. Once I commit ink to paper (or the digital equivalent) the ball is actually in play. If I don’t like what I made, A) nobody has to ever see it, and B) I can open to a new page and start again.

*Use What You Already Have.

I love going to art or craft stores, looking at all the pretty stuff, imagining what I can do with it, and petting the packaging. Sometimes, some of it even comes home with me, which means I can actually use it. I can also actually let it sit there and taunt me with its un-touched-ness, but I don’t get to find out what it can really do, unless I bust it out of the packaging and put it on the page. See first point, above. Those craft store displays and online adverts are very tempting, buuut know what? That box of stuff is right here, and everything in there was the shiny new thing once. It came home for a reason. Time to actually let it fulfill its purpose, or, at the very least, see what it can do.

*Experiments Are Good

When I first started using the traveler’s notebook system of covers and inserts, I was very adamant that I only wanted one particular size, about five by eight inches, because that was the size of notebook I already liked. Two sizes, if we count pocket. Then, I had to have this particular cover, which came with this particular insert, which is standard size, eight inches square, folded in half (my brain is not going to do the math) but this was the insert that came with the cover, and it was marker paper, and I have markers, and what’s the worst that can happen?

In this case, I can fill the entire thing in a record amount of time (I am one spread away from filling the whole insert) and then start making my own, from paper I already have on hand, because I love what my brain does when I am art-ing, which leads to the next point.

*Take Notes

This one, I cannot stress highly enough. My story brain works best in a fertile environment. If I’m making art, I have a pen in my hand already, so, if there is a pretty piece of paper (or the back of an old envelope) nearby, it’s ready to catch any thoughts that pop into my head. I am also usually listening to something while I art, and, recently, that’s included a lot of You Tube videos on writing and/or reading.

This is normally where I want to wrap the post together and relate it directly to writing, but I’m not going to do that right now. I’m going to leave it where it is, hit “post,” and grab a notebook or two.

Intravenous

October 1, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

A few years back, I had several big life changes happening at the same time. A long-time friendship ended, there was a serious illness in the family, and I’d had to helm an interstate move of three adults and one cat who did not sign off on any of this. Needless to say, all of the above did a serious number on the ability to create. I have multiple Moleskines filled with random ramblings, trying to make sense of everything, but fiction? Not so much.

Those changes also did a number on my ability to sleep, so there were more than a few times that I said to heck with it, slip out of bed, and plop myself in my recliner, in the dark of pre-dawn, underneath a hand-knit blanket, and plug in my earbuds. I’d kick back in the recliner, eyes closed, and let the music play, Skye kitty nearby, to send love beams my way.

The songs on that playlist didn’t pertain to any one particular novel project. It wasn’t the time for that. What it was time for, was to feel. There were a lot of sad songs on that list, loss songs, and songs that were just…big. Meat Loaf. Mary Chapin Carpenter. Elton John. Snow Patrol. HIM. Others.

Lying in that chair, under the blanket, one thin wire connecting me to the thing that I needed to have pumped into me, reminded me of sitting with my father during his dialysis sessions. By the time the sun came up, I’d have enough to get up and start doing things. In time, I started writing fiction again.

I remember those mornings, sometimes, when I find myself facing a blank page, or looking askance at my to-do list. On those times, I’ve found that it’s usually time for a creative transfusion. This morning, that included watching Bob’s Burgers, in my pajamas, while eating oatmeal, and then meandering a few feet to the left, to the kitchen/dining room table, and mess around with some of the art supplies that had been sitting in their moving boxes for far too long. watercolor, ink and stencils layered onto the paper, guided by instinct. The language part of my brain went on the back burner, my conscious attention divided between the backlog of TV shows I’d been putting off watching, and the images that composed themselves, as overthinking was the farthest thing from my mind.

And then…because there always is an “and then,” because that is how stories work, the tips of my ink-stained fingers tingled and itched to get at the keys. This entry wanted out of my head and onto the page, because after that (see previous comment about the inevitable “and thens”of every story) it would be time to rad Melva’s next scene for Drama King, and, after that, I can work on my own, and tomorrow, N and I get back on board with our mutual butt-kicking, for my historical and her contemporary. I am keeping one eye on library notifications, because I have some classic standalone historical romances on their way to me, to help stoke this historical fire. By which I mean get me back into historical mindset, because A) as much fun as co-writing the contemporaries is, I need some historical transfusion, and B) we are now in October, which means full superpowers should be going into effect, and I want to go at this as strongly as I can. There is also C) the fact that love beams do indeed come across the Rainbow Bridge, and writing between cats is, in fact, different than writing with a physical furry shadow.

There’s also the transfusion of last month’s Connecticut Fiction Fest, this past weekend’s Albany Book Festival (as an attendee, not a participant) and enough pages logged already in my reading tracker to put me two weeks ahead of my goal for October, on the first day of the month. Today, I got a transfusion of cartoons at breakfast, and cop shows at lunch, all the cups of tea I couldn’t have while the cold sore was in town, (totally making up for that now) and the agreement of all family members that now would be a good time to decorate our for-now apartment.

We still plan to find a pet friendly place some months from now. We can spend those months living out of boxes and staring at plain beige walls, or we can have some fun and put our stamp on the place. Expect progress pictures, as we go.

Such is the way a new normal begins. Do what you can, when you can. When it’s a struggle to put out, it’s time to take in, as much as it takes, for as long as it takes. Creative transfusions can come from old favorites, or the most unusual sources. For me, I like to throw it all in there, and see what sticks. Sometimes, the enthusiasm for writing will wane, especially when there are big life changes, even when the desire, or even the need, to write, hasn’t gone anywhere.

Even as the enthusiasm can ebb, it can also flow. Sometimes, that’s at a trickle, and sometimes, after a big enough or effective enough transfusion, crash in like a tidal wave. Usually, it’s somewhere in between. I have a list, in my bullet journal, of things that I know make for good transfusions: Spotify playlists, secret Pinterest boards, favorite movies, books, and TV. Taking the time to set up a Sims world exactly the way I want it, then spend long weekend afternoons, playing through generations. Hauling my beloved antique rocker (I don’t know how old it is, but it’s older than me) out of storage, and setting it up in my corner of the living room. It doesn’t recline, but it rocks, and that’ll do.

Butt in Chair, Pen to Paper

September 25, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

There aren’t a lot of articles out there on how to get back into the swing of writing after the loss of a pet. Personally, I haven’t found any. Hence the left foot right foot approach of putting butt in chair, and pen on paper. I work best in longhand. I always have. Still, there are times when it’s going through the motions. Writers and cats have a special connection, and Skye was, and is, my mews forever. At some point in the next couple of weeks, we will brig her ashes home. When we move, in time, to a pet-friendly apartment, we will add a new cat, or cats, to our family. They will be their own creatures, and I can’t say, before getting to know them, whoever they are, whether or not they will agree to blog for me. I have no earthly idea what Friday’s blog is going to look like, and I am okay with that. Maybe it will take a break for the week. I don’t know yet.

Last night, I had my weekly Skype session with Melva, to talk about Chasing Prince Charming‘s adventures in submission (we racked up a really good “no,” this week, so I count that as good) and where we are going next with its companion book, Drama King. I have a rough scene to smooth out, as soon as the immediate fam sorts out a domestic tornado, and, after I get Melva’s next scene, I get to rough out the scene that comes after that. Those whom I have tasked with needling me about Her Last First Kiss, you are doing a splendid job. That kind of thing works well with me.

For the first couple of days after Skye passed, I didn’t have any energy to do anything but cry, or stare at the bleak, cat-less future. Losing a pet sucks, no question about it. I found myself scrolling mindlessly through the internet. Cat videos have been extremely calming, and looking through all of Skye’s photos also helps. I have spent more time than I would care to admit, scrolling through ranked lists that pertain to a daytime drama I followed avidly in high school and college, but haven’t watched even one episode, since. The teenagers I remember are the parents now, and there may even be a grandparent or two; I haven’t looked. There are some things I do not need to know, especially when I am emotionally vulnerable.

Other things, though, have risen to the surface. Over the past weekend, I had a lot of time to myself. Housemate made a trip to Camp Grandma, Real Life Romance Hero was at work, and I gave myself assignments with a stack of new art supplies. I put pens in a new pen case. Playing with pens is always a sure soothing method, which, for a writer, is also one that is readily at hand.

I read some. Not a lot. Some, though, and there were, in fact, more reading-related activities. I’d been following the worksheets N and I are using to connect ourselves to the projects it’s high time we get out there, when I heard about Skye. Things had been going pretty darned well, actually, and then, in an instant, BOOM. Life will do that to a person.

Melva, also, recently lost a pet, and, in our weekly chat, we tossed around the idea of our two cats on the other side of Rainbow Bridge, plotting something together. Could happen. Who’s to say? We commiserated, gave each other a little more time, and made plans to move ahead.

Which is why this disjointed entry is up here. Melva and I talked about how we need to take our own advice, on writing when dealing with real life plot twists. Adjust expectations. Do what you can, when you can, and, maybe most importantly, remember why you’re doing it.

Those of us writing for publication would like to see a royalty check, sure, but I’m talking now more about capturing that initial spark, the one that turned “I wish I could do this” into “of course I can do this.” As is often the case, thoughts became more clear when I sat myself down with pen and paper, and let the whole matter leak out onto the page.

Back when I was but a wee princess of eleven, I stole my mother’s copy of a seminal historical romance novel from her nightstand, and scurried to my hidey-hole under the big brass bed in the guest bedroom. My mom followed the flashlight beam, but too late. In the first few pages, while the heroine was still an even wee-er (more wee?) princess herself, I was sold. I’d found what I wanted to read and write for the rest of my life.

Big, thick, epic historical romance, that spans miles (sometimes continents) and years (sometimes decades) and drags both hero and heroine through one heck of a lot of trouble, before the triumph of their HEA…that’s my jam. I want to inhale that now, like oxygen. It won’t fill the Skye-shaped hole. I’ll have to heal around that one, and, when new felines come, they won’t fill it either, but make their own places, on their own terms.

There is still grieving. Other cat people understand that. There is also the steady, inexorable need to make story. Writer people get that. Sometimes the two things happen at the same time, and sometimes, they take turns. I am not in control of how they work that out. The only thing I can control is butt in the chair, and pen to paper. It can’t always be gold, but it can always be. That’s good enough.

Breaking Out the Good Stuff

September 19, 2018annabowling Leave a comment

Stuff is going down today. I can tell because A) I am the one who planned said stuff, and B) I broke out the fancy pen. Full disclosure, said fancy pen was broken out for photographic purposes, as a quick test proved that it’s going to require cleaning and re-inking before I can actually use it. The actual pens used in today’s work will probably be one of my workhorse pens, possibly erasable because I know me, and perfectionism is the big boss to defeat before I can get into reconnecting with the meat of Her Last First Kiss, which is my assignment for the day.

Tomorrow morning, N and I will have our weekly breakfast and go over our homework, aka the pages that will enable us to kick each others’ posteriors into gear on our chosen projects. For double-digit years, I was part of a weekly accountability/critique group, that included my contemporary cohort, Melva Michaelian, and I was the only person who had something to read, every single week. There were more times than I’d care to admit, that my pages for that week were written in a white-hot burst, down to minutes before my ride came to ferry me there. There were times when I wrote pages that didn’t have anything to do with a current project, but they were pages, goshdangit, and that was what mattered.

When I moved from CT, to NY, obviously, that was the end of that. I missed it, and still do. I haven’t found a local group yet, though I’ve tried a couple, and I do have local writer friends, whom I meet with individually. I miss the group dynamic, though, so still working on that one.

Writing is often a solitary pursuit. I am an extrovert, meaning that I gain my energy from being around other people, and spend my energy when alone. Communing with other writers is a great way for me to refill that energy reserve. The internet is a great source for that. I will never, ever turn down a chance to have tea and writerly talk, face to face, with a local writer buddy, and have been known to travel, to see writer friends who are farther away than public transportation can connect.

That better have pages thing, though, I’ve been missing that. Last week, when N and I had our first regular breakfast after we both went to separate RWA events, we admitted we could both use some accountability. Hence the homework. Hence the excited skip of my pulse as I write this, glancing over the top of my monitor, at the real life version of today’s picture, only a few feet away. A new cup of tea, a pen in my hand, and it will be time, once again, to dive headfirst into Georgian England, and Bern and Ruby, and all the reasons they shouldn’t and can’t be together, which are nothing compared to the fact that they must. Are they going to admit that, though? Not without a great deal of difficulty, and that, for me, is where the fun lies.

Since I’ve already written the first draft, I know how things are going to turn out. This is for going deeper, for making the book more itself. Making Bern Bern-ier, Ruby more Ruby-licious. This is going to mean finally breaking down and setting up the printer, because I need reference pictures, and family trees, and cheat sheets, and all of that good stuff. This means ripping apart the binder I made over a year ago, that I set up in a specific arrangement, then never used.

Obviously, that arrangement didn”t work. Difference between theory and practice, and all that. This is time to fly into the mist, albeit with a general idea of what I’m doing, and the boundaries of the previous draft and a half, to bump me back when I drift too far afield. I’m excited (if you haven’t picked up on that by now) and am about half super pumped to get back to this story (a huge thank you to those writer friends who have needled me about this, because it super duper helps) and half running around in circles, arms flailing, but at least they are controlled circles.

My table/desk is not going to look this neat by the end of the day, when it’s time to clear away the writing stuff and set up for dinner with the fam. I am okay with that. Probably, at some point, but probably not today, I will do battle with the fountain pens that were last packed when I had a different address, and bring them back into everyday use. That’s another topic, though, for another day.

For right now, it’s time to brew some tea, pick out pens, and make a cover page for the second half of Big Daddy Precious, then start digging.

Typing With Wet Nails

for the love of romance

writing process